The morning sun pierced through the cold mountain fog, casting golden light over Shimla's snow-blanketed peaks. Everything seemed peaceful on the surface. The haunted aura around the hotel had lifted. Birds chirped. The air was crisp. The staff smiled again. It felt like things were back to normal.
But not for Prajwal.
She stared at her notebook.
The message still glowed faintly:
"One truth sets you free. But one lie remains buried."
"What do you think it means?" Swara asked, peering over her shoulder.
"It means this isn't over," Prajwal whispered.
The group gathered around their breakfast table, all ten girls unusually quiet—Akshada, Rutuja, Khushi, Apurva, Swarali, Akshara, Anushka, and Srushti. Not one double-meaning joke, not even a sarcastic comment from Srushti. The events of the past few days had changed them all.
Akshada, ever the confident one, spoke first. "I don't think Ophelia lied. But someone else might have."
Prajwal nodded. "That's what I've been thinking. We focused so much on Eleanor and Ophelia… What if someone else was behind all this?"
Swara's eyes widened. "You don't think there's another spirit, do you?"
"I don't know. But we've been so busy solving their story, maybe we missed something important."
Khushi raised a brow. "Like what?"
Prajwal took a deep breath. "Like… why did the hotel get haunted now, after all these years? Why only when we came?"
Everyone went quiet again.
Then Rutuja said slowly, "Do you think we triggered it somehow?"
That thought sent chills down everyone's spine.
Swarali leaned forward. "What if one of us... brought something here?"
They looked around at one another, the silence suddenly thick again.
"Wait," Akshara said, her voice shaky, "that day we entered the hidden room in the library… I took something."
All eyes turned to her.
"What did you take?" Anushka asked sharply.
Akshara looked guilty. She dug into her backpack and pulled out a dusty velvet pouch. She slowly opened it—and revealed an old silver locket.
"I thought it looked pretty. I didn't know it meant something."
Prajwal's eyes narrowed. "Where exactly did you find this?"
Akshara swallowed. "Inside a hollow brick behind the fireplace. It was hidden deep, like someone didn't want it to be found."
Prajwal took the locket gently. It had an intricate rose pattern and initials etched into the back: M.W.
"M.W…?" Swara whispered. "That's not Eleanor or Ophelia."
"No," Prajwal said. "It's someone else. Someone we haven't met yet."
Suddenly, the air shifted.
The fire in the common lounge—until now crackling steadily—blew out in one gust.
A whisper floated through the room.
"She stole what was mine."
The girls froze.
Rutuja clutched Khushi's arm. "Please tell me you heard that."
They all had.
And the air around them dropped by ten degrees.
The locket glowed faintly in Prajwal's hand, growing warmer by the second.
"She's angry," Swara murmured. "Whoever she is."
Prajwal stood up slowly. "We need to find out who M.W. was. Before it's too late."
And just then—
The hotel bell rang sharply, echoing unnaturally loud through the lobby.
Outside the front door, something had been left on the snow-covered steps.
A bouquet of withered black roses…
Tied with the same velvet ribbon as the pouch in Akshara's hand.
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