ArShi Horror OS - The Love that Haunts |Chapter 3 Page 3| - Page 3

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Chapter 2

The library was always Khushi's sanctuary, a place where the scent of aged paper and leather-bound secrets whispered promises of answers. Now, it was also the place where she could talk to Arnav.

"This one's promising," Khushi muttered, carefully turning the brittle pages of a manuscript detailing ancient rituals.

Her fingers traced the faded ink, feeling a strange thrill at the thought of finding a way to free the spirit of Arnav.

"Do you truly think an old book can do what centuries have not?" his voice vibrated through the air.

Khushi looked up, her eyes meeting his spectral gaze.

"It's not just a book, Arnav. It's history, it's knowledge. Someone, somewhere, must have dealt with this before. And besides," she added, a playful glint in her eyes, "I have never been one to back down from a challenge."

She spent days buried in the library. The hours blurred into a rhythm of reading, deciphering, and discussing. Arnav became her constant companion, sometimes visible, sometimes invisible, but a constant presence she had grown used to. He would sometimes point out the nuances she missed, his knowledge of old languages and traditions surprised her. He, in turn, was fascinated by her passion, her unwavering belief that she could change his fate.

One afternoon, Khushi was reading a particularly dense passage about spirit anchors.

"It speaks of a 'tether' that binds souls to the mortal realm," she explained, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Something that prevents it from moving on."

Arnav drifted closer, his form flickering slightly as if reacting to the mention of his trapped existence.

"Usually, a strong emotional connection," he said, his voice a mere whisper. "Or unfinished business."

Taking a deep breath, Khushi slowly turned the pages, her finger tracing the faded words as she read.

Khushi flipped through the yellowed pages, her brow furrowed in concentration. She was looking for any mention of the Raizada family, any clue that would shed light on Arnav's past. The script was an antique Hindi, the kind she'd only seen in old manuscripts, full of flowery curlicues and intricate strokes. It was difficult to decipher, but she was drawn to it, compelled by a force she didn't quite understand. The book was filled with tales of local lore, obscure rituals, and forgotten beliefs. As she read, the words seemed to shimmer and dance before her eyes, pulling her deeper into the past.

"It's about... a ritual," she murmured, tracing a particular line with her finger. "Aamna. It's...it's a practice they used to perform in this region, a hundred years ago."

Arnav drifted closer, his ethereal eyes fixed on the page. "Aamna? I've never heard of it."

Khushi continued reading aloud, translating as she went.

"It speaks of offering a piece of oneself – a memory, a desire, a deep regret – to... to the earth, to the spirit of the land. To be free from...anguish."

As she translated, the words resonated within her, chilling her to the bone. She glanced up and found Arnav staring at her intently, his gaze penetrating, unnervingly focused. It was the first time she felt like she wasn't just sensing his presence, but that he was truly seeing her.

"Khushi," he said, his voice barely more than a breath. "You can read it."

She blinked, startled. "What? Read what? I was just... translating."

"No," he insisted, his voice sharper now, tinged with a strange urgency. "The writing...it's old. Very old. It hasn't been used in a century. How can you read it with such ease?"

He moved even closer, his spectral form almost touching her, and Khushi felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold of the library. She could feel his presence, the intensity of his confusion, the sudden stirring of something profound.

"I'm...I'm not sure," she stammered, her heart pounding against her ribs. She looked down at the book again, the old script blurring slightly as she tried to focus. She realised he was right. It wasn't just the words; it was the meaning behind them that seemed to unfold effortlessly in her mind. It felt like she was remembering something, not merely deciphering it.

"What... what does it say?" he finally asked, his voice a low whisper that seemed to vibrate through the air.

Khushi traced a line of script with her index finger. "This was an ancient ritual, performed by princes in the old days, a way to... to bind." She hesitated, unsure if she should be sharing this with him.

"Bind what?" Arnav prompted, urgency lacing his voice.

Khushi swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "It says... to bind a spirit to this world, using their devotion and love, promising them a place here until they themselves chose to move on," She read further, "But the ritual... the book says, it could backfire if the prince performing it was not pure of heart... if his intentions weren't entirely selfless."

A beat of silence hung, heavy and thick. Khushi could almost feel the weight of a century crash down upon them. The room seemed to shrink, the candlelight casting long, distorted shadows. She looked up at Arnav, his spectral face stark with a mix of recognition and pain.

"This... this is about you, isn't it?" Khushi asked, her voice shaking. She could feel the weight of the words, the sadness, the injustice they spoke of. She'd read countless ghost stories, but this felt different, more real.

The sound of silence filled the attic for a brief moment. Then, Arnav's voice, when it came, was barely a whisper.

"I don't remember, Khushi," Arnav sighed.

"Did you tried to bind someone's spirit?" Khushi asked, her gaze locked on his.

"You think it backfired and that's why I am trapped here?" Arnav asked back, realisation hitting him hard.

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That's all for today :)

New chapter updated. Kindly drop reviews!

Interesting

Did Arnav Tried To Bind Someone 's spirit And That's Why His Trapped Here? Can

Khushi Save Him?

In trying to bind a soul, he got bound instead? Now he has a to find a way to free himself.

Such an interesting theme. Eagerly waiting for the next chapter.

Superb!!!!!

I'm in love with the plottt

Chapter 3

"I'll go meet our old pandit." Khushi said hopefully. "He'll surely help."

The scent of incense and old paper mingled, creating an atmosphere thick with secrets. Khushi, her heart thrumming with a mix of anticipation and apprehension, sat on a woven mat facing the old priest of the village. His eyes, though rimmed with age, held a sharp intelligence that put her at ease.

"So," the priest said, his voice kind, "You seek knowledge of Arnav Singh Raizada, the prince who vanished a century ago. A tragic tale, and one mostly lost to time," he gestured towards a stack of brittle manuscripts piled precariously on a low wooden table. "These old texts and oral accounts, passed down through generations of this village, are all that remain."

Khushi nodded, her gaze fixed on the pile. The weight of Arnav's past, something she hadn't even imagined existed until recently, seemed to press down on her.

"I... I need to know everything, Panditji. What had happened to him Why his spirit is still trapped in the mason."

The pandit inclined his head in understanding.

"It is no ordinary haunting, beta. From what little I recall from the elders before me, Rajkumar Arnav was... ambitious. He sought power, perhaps beyond his grasp," He carefully picked a manuscript, the paper yellowed and crumbling at the edges. "This speaks of a ritual, a ceremony he attempted near the full moon, in the mason."

Khushi leaned forward, her breath catching in her throat. Amna.

"Are there any accounts?" she asked, her voice tight with determination. "Anything about how to free him?"

The priest shook his head slowly.

"The old ways are forgotten. The knowledge of such things are passed only through specific lineages, and even those are now weak. It is an ancient art and very few know the details anymore. Many believe that such bindings are irreversible as it is a deal made with spirits. The few that are talked about are not for the weak, it requires sacrificing a lot, even yourself," He paused, his gaze searching hers. "The only hope, perhaps, is to understand the nature of the ritual, to truly grasp what went wrong. And that, will be a long path, filled with danger."

Khushi, however, was determined. The fear was there, whispering in the back of her mind, but the image of Arnav's face, the frustration and loneliness in his eyes, pushed her forward. She had promised to help him, and she wouldn't give up, not now.

"I understand, Panditji," she said, her voice firm. "But I have to try."

"The past is a maze, but with patience and determination, you might just find your way," he placed the stack of manuscripts in front of her. "These are yours to study. I will help you wherever I can. The spirit of Prince Arnav has waited long enough, it's time his story was finally read and understood."

With a renewed sense of purpose, Khushi reached out and touched the fragile pages, feeling the weight of history, the echo of Arnav's past and a little bit of her own future, in her fingertips. The answers, she knew, were buried deep within these ancient words, and she was ready to uncover them.

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Khushi traced the spidery script with a trembling finger, her breath catching in her throat. She was sitting cross-legged on the dusty floor of the library. Arnav hovered beside her.

"Are you going to read it aloud, or just stare at it like you are trying to decipher ancient hieroglyphs?" he huffed, his voice a whisper that sounded like dry leaves rustling in the wind.

Khushi ignored him for a moment, her eyes scanning the manuscript. It was written in a formal, flowery style, detailing the lives of the previous owners of the manor - each tale more somber than the last. But this section, dedicated to Arnav's era, felt different. There was a tenderness hidden beneath the stiff prose.

Finally, she began to read, her voice a nervous murmur in the silence.

"The esteemed Mr. Arvind Singh Raizada and his wife, the elegant Mrs. Ratna Singh Raizada, were blessed with a son, Arnav Singh Raizada. He was a young man of exceptional intellect and ambition, destined for greatness."

The manuscript detailed Arnav's childhood – a boisterous boy who loved to ride horses and climb the highest trees, a young man known for his sharp intellect and unwavering sense of justice.

Arnav listened intently, his spectral form flickering slightly. There was a sense of wonder, tinged with a profound melancholy, flickering in his spectral eyes. It was like watching a half-forgotten dream slowly materialize.

"...Though surrounded by splendor," she read, her voice catching on the words, "the young prince's heart found solace not in the court's gilded cages, but in the gentle heart of a maiden. Her spirit was as radiant as the dawn, and her laughter like the song of the morning birds..."

Khushi paused, her gaze shifting to Arnav. He was staring at the parchment, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock.

"Continue," Arnav urged, his voice trembling.

Khushi pushed aside the nagging sense of unease and focused again on the manuscript.

"She was not of noble birth, but her kindness and wisdom surpassed all the princesses of the land. Their love wasn't secret but it was a flame hidden from the judgment of the court. They wouldn't meet in the rose garden, but their love echoed in the rustling leaves...'"

As Khushi read, the room seemed to grow warmer, the air shimmering with a vibrancy that hadn't been there before. Arnav was no longer just a ghost, but a man in love, his heart echoing with a passion that transcended the boundaries of time.

"...Their love, however, was not meant to be. The court, wary of the forbidden love, conspired against her. She was...'" Here, the ink was smudged, the parchment worn thin. Khushi squinted, trying to decipher the word. She breathed out, her voice a hushed whisper, "... taken. Taken away."

The room fell silent, the only sound the soft rustling of parchment. Arnav froze, the light around him flickering erratically. A wave of chilling cold washed over Khushi, despite the warm afternoon sun streaming through the windows. Something was clearly wrong.

"Taken...where?" Arnav whispered, his voice laced with a desperate plea.

The hope that had ignited in his eyes was now replaced by an unbearable anguish. He looked at Khushi, a silent question in his gaze. He had a name, a love, but now a gaping void where the rest of the memory should be.

Khushi, tears brimming in her eyes, shook her head. "I... I don't know. The text is damaged here. But..." She flipped through the remaining pages. "There's more. It says...that the girl..." she read, hesitant, "...loved him dearly, her heart forever tied to his, until ... until her very last breath."

Arnav's ethereal form shimmered, almost as if he was about to collapse. He reached out a translucent hand towards Khushi, and though she couldn't physically feel him, she could sense the immense sorrow resonating from his spirit.

He barely whispered, his voice barely audible, "What... what was her name??"

Khushi flipped through the pages until her eyes fell on the name.

"The name... Khu... Khush... Khushali," she breathed out.

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That's all for today!

Originally posted by: ExoticDisaster

Chapter 3

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That's all for today!

Next chapter updated :)