Chapter 22: The Cursed Child: “A truth long buried rises with the weight of the past.”
As the days passed, their unity frayed. They argued over what to do.
"We should destroy it," Meen insisted, her voice sharp. "This thing is manipulating us."
"What if it's the only way to understand Kanya? " Tan countered. "Maybe she's guiding us."
Pim hesitated. "Or controlling us."
Ploy added." Or spying on us."
Tension thickened between them, their once-solid bond unraveling. Every choice felt tainted by unseen hands, every word suspect.
Then came the visions.
Flashes of Kanya's last moments. A faceless figure. A whispered name on the wind—
The diary knew the truth. But at what cost?
---
The walls of the school seemed to shift, shadows stretching like grasping fingers. The air smelled of old paper and something metallic—something wrong.
Then, in the dead of night, the diary revealed its most chilling message yet.
*You are running out of time.*
The next morning, a bloody letter appeared on the classroom board, its message scrawled in trembling strokes:
*STOP. OR MORE WILL DIE.*
The school erupted in panic. The principal called an emergency meeting. Fear gripped the students, but Meen and the others knew the truth.
The real horror had only just begun.
---
As the night deepens, so does the mystery. The final pieces of Kanya's story must be unearthed before her wrath consumes them all.
---
The silence in the music room thickened as the final strands of Kanya's song faded into the cold air. It was a silence that did not merely exist but breathed, curling like an invisible mist around Meen, Pim, Chawin,Tan, Ploy, and Praew. The lantern between them flickered wildly, casting distorted shadows that danced along the cracked walls like restless phantoms.
A whisper slithered through the room, soft as a dying breath yet sharp enough to slice through their very souls. "You do not understand… You never did."
Chawin stepped forward, his stance firm despite the trembling in his fingers. "Then tell us, Kanya. Tell us the truth."
The walls groaned as if the building itself had inhaled. The mirrors, dulled by dust and time, reflected not just their faces but something… other. The shadowed figures did not move in sync with their hosts but instead flickered, bending at unnatural angles.
Then—she appeared. Not the furious specter wreathed in rage they had seen before, but a frail girl draped in sorrow. Her hollow eyes shimmered like moonlight caught in deep water. A sadness so raw it could have been carved into stone was written across her face.
"I was never meant to belong," Kanya murmured. "From the moment I was born, they feared me."
A gust of wind rushed through the room, whispering secrets from a time long past. And then, the visions began.
A village steeped in superstition. Whispering tongues like hissing vipers. Eyes averted, fingers pointing. A mother turning away, a father's gaze filled with something colder than hatred—fear. A child born beneath an ill-fated moon, marked not by her deeds but by the curse of existence itself.
Tan's throat tightened. "They made you into the monster they feared."
Kanya's lips quivered. "And now… it is too late."
The walls trembled. The lantern's glow wavered. And just like that, she was gone, swallowed by the darkness once more.
---
The truth is out—but can they mend a past that was shattered from the start?
---
The air was still heavy, pressing against them like unseen hands. As they processed what they had just witnessed, a new revelation surfaced—a name that had gone unnoticed in the chaos of the past: Lalita Rattanaphan.
"Another girl…" Meen whispered, her voice barely audible. "Another spirit? "
Pim's hands shook as she flipped through the aged documents they had gathered. "Lalita Rattanaphan. She died the same year as Naree, but there's barely any mention of her. Almost like… like she was erased."
"Or buried under something much bigger," Tan added grimly.
The weight of the revelation settled over them like a storm cloud ready to burst. If Lalita Rattanaphan's death had been overshadowed, what else had been hidden?
That night, the answer came in an unexpected form.
---
The next day, Chaiwan arrived at their usual meeting place, his face pale as though he had seen a ghost. And in truth, he had.
"She was floating," he whispered, his voice shaking. "At home. Last night. My sister. She doesn't remember anything. She just… stands there. Staring."
A chill crawled down Pim's spine. "We need to go to the temple."
Along the way, their hearts pounded hard as if they were being followed and monitored but not knowing who. The bus rumbled, a metal coffin carrying shaken students away from the news terror, their wide eyes reflecting the lingering horror they had just heard.
The temple grounds, usually a place of serene contemplation, felt ominous under the weight of their burden. The head monk listened carefully, his gaze piercing as though he could see through the very fabric of reality.
"She is no longer human," he finally said. "She is an empty vessel. Something else controls her now."
The words sent shivers through them. Was this Kanya's doing? Or was there something even darker lurking beneath the surface?
---
The school talent show was meant to be a night of joy, a break from the suffocating terror. Instead, it became the setting for their worst nightmare.
It started with a ripple of unease, a sense that something was wrong. Then the doll appeared.
It moved on its own, passed from student to student like an infectious disease. The moment it touched their hands, their expressions would shift—eyes darkening, lips curling into eerie smiles. They spoke in whispers, murmuring words in a language no one recognized.
And then, the screaming began.
One by one, students collapsed, their bodies convulsing as if something unseen gripped them. Lights flickered, the stage curtains billowed despite the absence of wind, and a chilling laughter echoed from nowhere and everywhere at once.
Meen grabbed Pim's arm. "We have to stop this! "
But how do you fight what you cannot see?
---
Boonsong, the old school watchman, had always kept to himself. But that night, as the school descended into chaos, he stepped forward, his face lined with a burden too heavy to bear.
"I was there," he admitted. "The night Kanya died."
The words froze them in place.