Chapter 23: The Cursed Heirloom: “A ring of death, a history of betrayal—can they break the cycle before it claims them all?”
Boonsong's voice was hoarse, worn with years of silence. "She didn't just fall. She was pushed, murdered."
The revelation hit like a thunderclap.
"By who? " Ploy demanded. He looked as confused as a kitten in a yarn factory.
"And why? " Tan added. He looked more lost than a lost puppy in a blizzard
Boonsong hesitated. "I don't know. I heard voices. I saw shadows. And then… she was gone."
The puzzle pieces were falling into place, but the picture they formed was more horrifying than they had ever imagined. If Kanya had been murdered, then her spirit wouldn't rest until justice was served. But what if justice wasn't enough? What if her anger had festered for so long that nothing would ever be enough?
---
The next step was clear. They needed to find what Kanya had left behind. Her belongings. Her secrets. The final key to unlocking the past.
It led them to the abandoned section of the school, a place swallowed by dust and time. Here, the walls whispered, the air thick with unseen eyes watching their every move.
And then they found it.
A small box, hidden beneath the rotting floorboards.
Inside: a collection of letters, a broken locket, and a diary that, at first glance, appeared completely blank.
But as Meen held it in her hands, a single sentence appeared on the page, ink bleeding onto paper as if written by an invisible hand:
*You are close… but will you dare to see the truth?*
---
The past was no longer content to stay buried. The truth was clawing its way to the surface. And as they stood there, breaths shallow, hearts pounding, one thing became certain.
The worst was yet to come.
---
A suffocating dread hung over the school like an unrelenting storm cloud, dark and foreboding. Another student had been found lifeless that morning. The deaths were no longer whispered rumors but a terrifying reality that gnawed at the edges of sanity. The air inside the school was thick with fear, the corridors eerily silent as though the walls themselves held their breath.
Meen, Pim, Tan, Ploy, Chawin and Praew sat huddled in the library, the scent of old paper and dust settling around them like ghosts of the past. The latest victim had something chillingly in common with the others—a strange, antique ring encircling their finger like a noose tightening around fate.
"We need to find out where it came from," Pim whispered, her voice barely audible over the creaking of the ancient wooden shelves. Her eyes darted nervously to the hallway, where the shadows stretched unnaturally long, almost sentient in their movements.
Chawin , who had decided to permanently join the group and help them, clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. "This isn't just an object. It's a death sentence."
Ploy who was busy flipping books, paused and nodded as if to agree before he continued.
Their research led them deep into the archives, past yellowed records and forgotten tragedies. Hidden among brittle pages and faded ink was an obscure entry—a record of the ring's origins. It had belonged to Kanya's family, passed down through generations as a supposed heirloom. But it wasn't a mere ornament; it was a vessel, a binding ritual meant to tether spirits to the bloodline. A cursed inheritance.
"Whoever wears it," Meen murmured, running her fingers over the brittle parchment, "is doomed to suffer the wrath of an ancient betrayal."
Tan exhaled sharply. "Then we need to break the curse at its root."
But to do that, they needed to summon the spirit connected to the ring. And that meant finding its original owner—before time ran out.
---
The night was thick with an oppressive stillness as they approached the old shrine behind the school. The shrine had been long abandoned, its wooden beams warped by time, the scent of incense still lingering as though the past refused to fade completely. The cursed ring lay in the center of a hastily drawn circle, its dull gold surface gleaming malevolently under the lantern light.
Praew shivered. "What if we're making things worse? "
Chawin's expression was unreadable. "We already have. Now we need to fix it."
They began the ritual, their chants merging with the whispers of the night. And then, the wind stilled. A low hum resonated through the shrine, vibrating through their bones. The candle flames twisted, stretching unnaturally high before extinguishing all at once.
Then, she appeared.
Kanya materialized from the darkness, her form flickering like a flame caught in the wind. But something was different. Her usual wrathful presence was subdued. Her eyes, hollow and full of sorrow, locked onto the ring as though it were the root of all her suffering.
"It was never meant for me," she whispered, her voice a melody of despair. "It should have been hers."
The vision shifted, and they were no longer in the shrine. Instead, they stood in a dimly lit chamber of the past, watching a younger Kanya clutch the ring as her mother snatched it away, pressing it into another girl's palm—Lalita Rattanaphan.
"Lalita Rattanaphan? " Pim gasped.
A forgotten sister. A secret long buried beneath the weight of guilt. Lalita Rattanaphan's death had been overshadowed by Naree's tragedy, leaving her spirit lost, wandering between realms.
"She was never meant to suffer alone," Kanya murmured. "But I was the only one they blamed."
Tears welled in Praew's eyes. "We need to set them both free."
But as the vision faded, an ominous presence lurked in the background. Not all spirits wished to be freed—and some hungered for more than justice.
---
The next day, chaos erupted within the school walls. The cursed heirloom was no longer their only concern. The entity's power had grown, and it was no longer confined to the shadows.
A major school event—the talent show—turned into a scene of horror. As students prepared backstage, a spine-chilling scream echoed through the auditorium. When they rushed to investigate, they found a student trembling, a crimson handprint burned onto her shoulder.
"She's marked," Chawin muttered. "She's next."
The cursed doll had begun its possession, spreading like wildfire. Objects moved on their own, lights flickered erratically, and an overwhelming sense of dread permeated the air.
---
Determined to uncover the truth, they followed the last remaining clues to Kanya's former home, a house that had long been abandoned, its walls steeped in sorrow. As they stepped inside, a thick layer of dust coated every surface, the air stale with neglect.