Aarav leaned against the brick wall of the university, scrolling aimlessly through his phone, waiting for his ride. Dev had called earlier, instructing him to be ready for a meeting. No details were shared—it was typical of how things worked when something serious came up. The call had the usual tension in Dev's voice, the kind that warned Aarav they weren’t dealing with a minor disturbance.
The low hum of an engine caught his attention as a black SUV rolled to a stop in front of him. The tinted window slid down, revealing Vikram Singh at the wheel.
"Get in, kid," Vikram called, his deep, gravelly voice somehow both commanding and casual.
Vikram, the ex-military man, was 37 but still as sharp and disciplined as he had been during his years of service. Tall, muscular, and always stoic, he rarely engaged in conversation beyond what was necessary. His dark eyes were always scanning, observing, and his hand never far from the sidearm he carried everywhere. Vikram was invaluable to the team—not just for his combat skills but also because of the connections he maintained with the military, which made procuring weapons and gear a lot easier.
Aarav slid into the passenger seat, offering a nod in greeting. Silence followed, comfortable and familiar. Vikram wasn’t one for small talk, and Aarav had no desire to break it. The SUV smoothly navigated the winding roads, leading them away from the city into more secluded territory.
After some time, they approached the team’s headquarters. The place was designed to be unassuming, blending into the quiet countryside with a façade resembling a private estate. But inside, it was a different world—a state-of-the-art facility designed for the unique, dangerous work they did. Paid well by both the government and high-profile clients, they had all the resources they needed.
The SUV pulled into the driveway, and the gate slid open without a sound. Vikram parked the vehicle, and Aarav stepped out, taking in the familiar building ahead. It was sleek but understated, a sharp contrast to the wild nature surrounding it.
Inside, the team had already gathered in the conference room, a space filled with high-tech gadgets, maps, and a large digital screen displaying security footage. At the head of the table stood Dev Agarwal. The 36-year-old leader of their team had an air of authority, a presence that demanded attention without ever needing to raise his voice. Dressed in his usual crisp shirt, Dev looked more like a senior officer than the head of a paranormal unit. His sharp features and calm demeanor made it easy to see why the government trusted him with such sensitive operations. His ability to navigate both the supernatural world and the bureaucracy made him a perfect fit for leading the team.
“Good, you’re here,” Dev said, acknowledging Aarav and Vikram with a nod. “We’ve got a serious situation.”
To Dev’s left sat Sanya Sharma, the team’s expert on occult knowledge and history. At 28, Sanya was a striking figure with sharp, intelligent eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor. She wore a neatly tailored office outfit—dark trousers, a crisp white blouse, and a blazer. Her confidence was palpable. Sanya had once worked for the government’s paranormal department, but she had left under mysterious circumstances, something she never talked about. She was here now because of her sense of duty and justice, and her deep knowledge of ancient rituals and supernatural texts was invaluable.
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“We’re dealing with more than a simple haunting,” Sanya said, as she slid several photographs across the table.
Across from her sat Tara Banerjee, the team’s tech specialist. At 26, Tara brought a vibrant energy to the room, her short hair dyed with streaks of blue. Her headphones were slung around her neck, always within reach. Tara came from a wealthy family—her mother was a renowned doctor—but she craved adventure. She handled all the tech, communications, and, when needed, the hacking. She tapped away at her laptop, eyes glued to the screen. “Always here for the ghosts and glitches,” she said under her breath.
Beside her, Karan Verma fiddled with the camera gear. The 27-year-old equipment expert was always full of energy, constantly moving and talking. He had a casual, easy-going vibe, dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans. Karan's sense of humor kept things light, even when they were dealing with grim situations. He handled all the sensors, cameras, and the recording equipment they used to document their cases.
On the far side of the room, standing quietly, was Aditya Mishra. At 24, Aditya was the team’s ritual expert, though he rarely joined field missions. Coming from an ancient priestly family that had fallen from prominence, Aditya had a wealth of knowledge about tantric practices, old rituals, and spiritual exorcisms. He often stayed at the headquarters, working on rituals and research. His connections to other ancient families helped the team when they encountered particularly complex cases.
Aarav took his usual seat, keeping his silence as Dev began laying out the details.
“The convent school was established during British rule, in 1865,” Dev began. “There’s a sealed-off section that’s been closed for over a century by the Church. It’s remained dormant until recently. We’re dealing with a spirit they’re calling the ‘Hanging Woman.’”
Sanya took over, pushing a few documents toward the center of the table. “There’s a record of a woman—possibly a teacher or caretaker—who hanged herself in that wing. Details are sparse. The priests who sealed it off must’ve had a good reason. Now, it’s awakened and it’s attacking students.”
Tara’s fingers flew across the keyboard as she pulled up a grainy video on the large screen. “I got this from the school’s security system. Three students were found unconscious near the sealed wing. Two of them had serious injuries—marks around their necks, like they were being strangled. No one else was seen in the area.”
Karan leaned back, crossing his arms. “That’s the spirit’s doing, no doubt. Sounds pretty typical for a ‘Hanging Woman.’”
Dev’s expression darkened. “This isn’t just a residual haunting. This spirit has the energy to physically harm people. It’s dangerous, and we don’t know how or why it’s suddenly active again.”
As the discussion unfolded, Aarav listened carefully, feeling the weight of the situation. The team only knew that he had some heightened sensitivity to spirits—a gift, they assumed. Aarav had told them he’d awakened his “spirit eyes,” a rare ability that allowed him to perceive more about spirits than most exorcists. But the truth was more complicated. His encounter with the RED had given him abilities beyond even what his teammates could comprehend, but that was a secret he guarded closely.
Aarav cleared his throat, speaking for the first time. “So, what’s the plan?”
Dev turned to him. “We’ll set up a perimeter around the sealed-off wing. Karan, you’ll get the cameras and sensors ready. Tara, you’ll monitor the feeds and keep us connected. Sanya, I need you to dig deeper into the school’s history—find out why the priests sealed that area. Vikram, you’ll handle security. Aarav, you and I will go in first. I need you to use your spirit sensitivity to assess the situation.”
Aarav nodded, his usual calm returning. His role was to be the scout, the one who could sense the dangers lurking beneath the surface. It was a dangerous responsibility, but one he was used to.
As the team began preparing their equipment, Aarav couldn’t shake the heavy feeling gnawing at him. The Hanging Woman was just the surface of something much deeper. Something that felt ancient, powerful, and full of rage.
“Let’s move out,” Dev commanded, and the team sprang into action.
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