Chapter 4: The Binding of the Soul:"When you make a deal with the dark, there is always a price to pay."

Praew couldn't shake the feeling of unease that clung to her like a second skin. Her room, once a haven of comfort, now felt like a cage—a trap she couldn't escape. The doll was still sitting on her desk, its lifeless gaze seemingly following her every movement. No matter how many times she tried to convince herself it was just an inanimate object, something in the back of her mind whispered that it was much more than that.

She had thought she could leave the curse behind, that somehow waking up from the nightmare would erase the lingering fear, but the reality was harsher than she ever imagined. The spirit, the woman, was real. And Praew was bound to her now, tethered by a force far darker than she could comprehend.

The sunlight streaming through her window did little to warm her; in fact, it only made the shadows feel more pronounced, more threatening. She tried to focus, tried to calm herself, but all she could hear was the soft, echoing whisper: *"Help me…"* It had been with her every moment since she'd touched the doll, a constant reminder that she wasn't alone. That something was watching her.

She stood up, her legs shaky beneath her, and walked to her desk. The doll was exactly where she had left it, still perched on the edge. Its painted smile seemed to mock her, a false promise of innocence.

"I need to get rid of you," Praew muttered to herself, her voice trembling. She reached out to grab the doll, but the moment her fingers brushed against its smooth surface, a sharp pain shot through her hand. She yanked it back, staring at her palm, which was now covered in small, faint scratches.

*What is happening?* Her mind raced, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The pain wasn't real, or at least, it shouldn't have been. It felt like a warning, like the doll was fighting back.

"Stop it!" Praew shouted, backing away from the desk. The doll didn't move, but the whispering grew louder, more frantic. *Help me… Free me…*

Praew's head spun. She had to do something—anything—to stop this madness before it consumed her completely.

But what? Where could she go? Who could help her?

The thought struck her suddenly, like a bolt of lightning. *The book.* The book had told her what the doll was, what it wanted. Perhaps there was more to it—more she could learn about how to break the curse.

With a desperate sense of purpose, Praew rushed to the shelf where she had left the cursed book. She opened it once more, her fingers trembling as she turned the pages. The words seemed to jump off the page, as though they were alive, pulling her into their dark world.

*"The curse can only be broken by the one who holds the doll, but the price of breaking it is steep. To sever the bond, the bearer must give up what they hold most dear. Only then can the spirit be freed, and the doll returned to its rightful place."*

Praew's heart skipped a beat as she read the words. *What could she give up?* Her family? Her friends? She couldn't bear the thought of losing them. But what other choice did she have?

As if on cue, the whispers returned, this time louder than ever. *"Help me… You must help me, Praew. You're the only one who can free me…"* The voice was pleading now, desperate.

Her head throbbed, and she clutched her temples, trying to block out the tormenting sound. But the more she tried to silence it, the louder it became. It was as if the doll was taking over her mind, slowly and steadily erasing the boundaries between what was real and what was a nightmare.

She slammed the book shut, gasping for air. Her chest felt tight, her thoughts jumbled. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think clearly. The room was closing in on her, the air thick with the weight of the curse. The whispers were no longer just in her head—they were everywhere, filling the space around her, crawling into her skin.

"Enough!" Praew screamed, her voice breaking. She grabbed the doll, her fingers tight around its fragile form.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, the doll's eyes flickered. A strange warmth pulsed through Praew's hand, and the whispers died down to a low hum. She looked at the doll, her pulse racing. It was as if the spirit was waiting for her, watching her every move.

"You want me to help you?" Praew said through gritted teeth. "Fine. But you have to tell me what you want. What is it that you need?"

For a moment, the room was still. The doll seemed to be waiting, as though considering her words. Then, as if in response, the air grew colder, and the whisper returned, this time clearer than before.

*"My name is Kanya. I was once like you, a girl full of life. But I was betrayed. Trapped. And now, I need you to free me from this prison."*

Kanya? The name sounded familiar, like a fragment of a forgotten memory. Praew's heart beat faster as she realized what she had to do. She had to know more about Kanya—about what had happened to her. Only then could she understand how to break the curse and free herself.

But the doll wasn't done yet. As if on cue, Kanya's voice filled the room again, this time urgent, demanding.

*"Find the truth, Praew. You must find the ones who wronged me. Only then can I be free. And only then will you be free."*

Praew's mind reeled. The weight of the doll's words settled heavily on her shoulders. She had no idea where to begin or what kind of danger lay ahead. But she knew one thing for sure: There was no turning back now.

With a shaky breath, Praew made a vow to herself. She would uncover the truth. She would find the ones who had wronged Kanya and put an end to the curse—no matter the cost.

But deep down, Praew knew that the price of freeing Kanya might be higher than she was willing to pay. And the clock was ticking.