There was no sky.
No ceiling.
Just stone.
Cold, breathing stone, pressed around them like lungs.
The tunnel they stepped into sealed behind them without sound—
a swallowing motion, like a mouth satisfied.
Vyom felt his mother's arms tighten around him, breath trembling against his hair.
Dev hung against his chest, silent… watching… waiting.
The dark seemed endless,
yet Vyom could feel a faint pulse beneath his feet —
like the world had a heart,
beating slow and too deep.
BOOM.
. . .
BOOM.
He swallowed.
"M-Ma… this place…"
"I know," she whispered.
Her voice was thin again — not afraid, but fragile.
"You must be brave, Vyom. No matter what you see. No matter what you hear."
Vyom nodded against her shoulder, though his throat burned with a truth:
He didn't feel brave at all.
The tunnel sloped downward in crooked angles.
No footsteps echoed — only breathing, shifting,
the slow movement of walls adjusting to receive them…
as though guiding,
herding,
deciding.
The only light came from the pendant hanging against his mother's neck —
a faint silver glow, shaking like a candle in a storm.
Vyom reached for it.
His mother covered his hand gently.
"It will dim soon," she said.
"But it keeps them from seeing your full glow."
Vyom froze.
Them.
There were more than one.
He opened his mouth —
to ask what,
to ask why—
but the tunnel answered instead.
A whisper—
soft, fragile,
SEWN into the stone…
"…little… clock…"
The voice had no mouth.
No body.
Just sound, dragged across their bones.
Vyom choked a gasp.
His mother's grip around him tightened.
"Do not respond," she whispered.
Dev stirred in Vyom's grip.
Its voice was thin, distant, as if speaking through cloth:
"The second face is watching."
Vyom trembled.
His mother whispered, almost to him—almost to herself—
"Keep walking…"
So they did.
Stone melted slowly into wood,
the walls reshaping themselves into a narrow corridor.
Rotting timber.
Damp.
Laced with rusted nails and half-buried hinges.
Like the hallway they fled…
…only older.
Wrong-er.
The floorboards were swollen with moisture—
soft in places,
sinking beneath their steps.
And then—
something new.
A scent.
Sweet.
Sickly.
Copper-warm.
Vyom knew it.
Blood.
His heartbeat sped.
The house followed, syncing rhythm with him.
BOOM.
BOOM.
The corridor widened into a crooked chamber—
moonlit though there was no moon.
Walls dripped.
Not water.
Memory.
Faces pulsed faintly along the wood —
unfocused shapes, like portraits rotting alive.
Some cried.
Some gaped.
All watched.
And there,
in the center of the room,
stood a door.
Black.
Veined.
Alive.
It throbbed slow —
like it was breathing.
Vyom pressed into his mother's chest.
"Ma… that's the one…"
He didn't need to finish.
Her voice broke.
"Yes."
The door from his dreams.
The door that always waited at the bottom of his fall.
The door he was never supposed to reach.
His mother took a step forward —
not toward it,
but around it,
circling with desperate caution.
"We cannot open that," she whispered.
"Not now. Not ever."
Vyom nodded, though his skin felt too thin.
The whisper slithered from the walls:
"…open… open… open…"
Vyom pressed his hands over his ears.
But the whisper came from inside.
So he squeezed his eyes shut.
His mother stroked his hair.
"Stay with me. We just have to find—"
Something shifted behind them.
A soft scrape.
Slow.
Wet.
Vyom froze.
His mother spun — shielding him.
The tunnel they'd come through…
…was gone.
No entrance.
No path.
Only wall.
Something had sealed them in.
Dev whispered—
"He followed."
Mother's breath fractured.
"Impossible…"
But Vyom heard it:
The dragging sound.
Not footsteps.
Hands.
Something crawling against the wood,
pulling itself closer.
His mother backed away,
pressing into the room's far side.
Vyom clung to her, shaking so hard he felt his ribs ache.
The whisper coiled again—
"…lost… time…"
Dev's button eyes flickered — dim, then bright — then dim again.
"He knows the glow."
The wall nearest the door bulged.
Slow.
Wet.
Like clay under pressure.
Then — fingers pushed through.
Long.
Bent.
Wrongly jointed.
The same grey flesh as before.
The same slow tremble.
The same hunger.
But now — more complete.
Each finger stretched, feeling, tasting the air.
Searching.
His mother swallowed — loud in the silence.
The wall split.
A head emerged.
Not a face —
just the idea of one.
Slits where eyes should be.
A hole where a mouth waited.
Skin too thin, veins pulsing beneath.
It pulled itself into the room —
boneless motion,
body unfolding wrong.
Vyom whimpered.
The creature stopped.
Head jerked.
It sniffed —
though it had no nose.
"…there…"
Its head snapped toward Vyom —
fast —
too fast.
Vyom felt his chest tighten —
the seal beneath his ribs burning.
The creature twitched.
Its neck cracked.
Limbs spasmed.
It whispered—
"…you glow… too much…"
Mother stepped forward — shielding him.
"NO."
The creature paused.
Not because it obeyed —
but because it noticed her.
Its head tilted.
Slow.
Curious.
Vyom felt her body tremble. Not with fear.
With readiness.
She whispered to him, never looking away from the beast—
"Vyom… when I say run… you run. Do not look back. Do not call me."
His throat clenched.
"Ma—no—"
Her arm tightened around him once.
"I love you."
The creature lunged.
Screaming without sound.
Mother shoved Vyom sideways —
hard —
so hard he flew across the floor, skidding into darkness.
He screamed—
"MAAAA!"
Dust filled his mouth.
His palms burned.
He spun back —
just in time to see the creature hit her.
It struck with impossible force —
slamming her into the opposite wall.
The wood split around her like ribs.
Blood spattered.
Vyom's breath broke.
"MA—!"
She gasped —
trying to rise —
but the creature tore into her shoulder,
raking bones from flesh.
She screamed
—shattering the room.
Vyom scrambled toward her —
but strong hands grabbed him—
Dev.
The doll pinned him down with unnatural strength.
"Do. Not. Move."
Vyom thrashed, sobbing, clawing at the wooden floor.
"LET ME GO! LET ME GO!! MAAA—!!"
His mother's scream cut through him —
raw
animal
final.
The creature lifted her —
limbs twisting like rope.
Her legs kicked once —
twice —
then stilled.
The creature bit into her chest —
ripping flesh like cloth.
Blood hit the floor, hot and bright.
Vyom's vision blurred.
"No—no—no—MA—!!"
He screamed until his voice broke.
Dev pinned him harder.
"STOP."
The doll turned his face toward Vyom —
button eyes cold.
"You cannot save her."
Vyom screamed in Dev's stitched face — weak, broken.
"PLEASE!! PLEASE!! MAKE IT STOP!!"
Dev's voice was empty.
"It already has."
The creature devoured her —
slow and deliberate,
as though savoring memory,
not meat.
Bones cracked.
Skin tore.
Blood soaked into the wood,
which swallowed it hungrily.
The house pulse quickened—
BOOMBOOM
BOOMBOOM
BOOMBOOM
Vyom gagged —
vomited —
collapsed.
His vision tunneled.
Somewhere inside,
something else cried with him.
Dev released him.
He crawled —
not to flee
but toward the thing
that once was his mother.
Her face —
half-gone —
still twitched.
Fingers reached toward him —
gentle
reflex
love
even in death.
He reached.
Their fingertips touched—
Her last breath brushed his wrist.
Warm.
Then—
Her arm was yanked away —
devoured.
Gone.
Vyom broke.
His scream didn't sound like a child.
It sounded like a clock breaking.
His vision shattered.
The creature paused —
head tilting —
as if studying him.
Then—
It retreated.
Crawling back into the wall,
folding into the shape of a hand,
then a breath,
then nothing.
As though it had taken
what it came for.
Silence.
Vyom lay in blood —
hers and his —
unable to move,
chest heaving in shattered sobs.
Dev sat beside him.
Still.
Waiting.
Finally—
The doll spoke.
"She was not yours to save."
Vyom shook violently.
"S-She… she's gone… she's gone—"
Dev corrected,
voice steady.
"THIS version of her."
Vyom froze.
"T-This… version…?"
Dev nodded.
"This is not your world."
Vyom stared, tears trembling in his lashes.
"What… do you mean…?"
Dev lifted its stitched arm —
pointing at the black door.
"The thirteenth hour broke your path.
You fell sideways.
Into another timeline."
Vyom blinked—
mind unable to shape that into understanding.
Dev continued.
"The mother you knew is alive.
Waiting, unaware."
Vyom shook his head violently.
"No—NO—I SAW HER DIE—!!"
"This one."
Dev corrected coldly.
"Not yours."
Vyom sobbed, body curling inward.
"M-Ma…"
Dev placed a stitched hand on his shoulder.
"You must walk a long road to return."
Vyom looked up —
face streaked with blood and tears.
"H-How long…?"
Dev's button eyes dimmed.
"Years."
Vyom's breath seized.
Dev continued.
"This world will hunt you.
Every hour.
Every corner."
The doll leaned close.
"They want your blood.
Your glow."
Vyom hugged himself.
"I… I don't want this…"
Dev tilted its head.
"No one does."
Silence.
Only the house breathed.
Vyom finally whispered—
"Why… why did you bring me here…?"
Dev did not answer.
Instead—
It stood.
"I will guide you.
Until you can survive alone."
Vyom stared.
"Will I… ever go home…?"
Dev nodded slowly.
"If you reach the end of the hours."
Vyom swallowed.
"And then… I'll be six again?"
Dev shook its head.
"Your body will be seven."
A pause.
"But your memories…
will be sealed."
Vyom stared.
"What… why…?"
Dev knelt —
voice low, almost gentle.
"Because a child cannot carry death."
Vyom looked at the blood soaking the floor.
"But I will remember…"
"No," Dev said.
"You will FEEL.
Not remember."
Vyom hugged himself.
The black door pulsed —
once.
He looked at it —
hating it.
Dev stepped in front of him.
"Never touch it.
It is the hour that owns you."
Vyom closed his eyes.
"I want my Ma…"
Dev replied—
"Then walk.
Survive.
Return."
The walls groaned —
opening a new path.
A long descent —
steep
dark
breathing.
Vyom wiped his tears.
The blood on his hands was warm.
He took one trembling step.
Then another.
He did not look back.
The house whispered:
"…new hour…"
Dev walked beside him.
"Your story begins now."
As the darkness consumed them,
Vyom felt something change.
Not around him.
Inside him.
A thin thread pulling him forward —
toward years
toward monsters
toward memory
toward himself.
The second face watched from the walls.
The third waited below.
And Vyom walked,
small,
broken,
glowing.
Toward the longest road.
Toward home.
---
END OF CHAPTER 20 — The Room That Eats
--------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Readers,
Thank you for walking beside Vyom so far.
This journey means a lot to me — and even more that you have chosen to share it.
I am currently a Class 12th student, with Board Exams in February and entrance examinations through April–May.
Because of this, I will be taking a temporary break from writing to focus fully on my studies.
The story will return in June, continuing Vyom's path through the Hours — more terrifying, emotional, and mysterious than ever before.
Thank you for your patience, love, and support.
I promise:
When I return, I will bring chapters that chill deeper, hurt sharper, and reveal truths you never saw coming.
Until then—
Stay safe.
Keep your doors closed.
And if something ever knocks…
don't answer.
— Pandit piyush