Beneath the Hearts

Secrets in the Spiral

The plates sat on Rihan’s coffee table like artifacts from another world, their etched surfaces glowing faintly in the dim light of the single lamp. Arya leaned over them, her hands clasped tightly as if afraid to touch them again. Her mind raced with the implications of what they had found—these plates were connected, part of something larger.

Rihan, sprawled on the couch with a beer bottle dangling loosely from his fingers, watched her in silence. The girl’s frantic warning from earlier still rang in his ears.

“You’re way too calm about this,” Arya finally said, breaking the silence.

He raised an eyebrow. “Me? I’m the one who keeps pointing out that this is a terrible idea. You’re the one dragging us deeper into this mess.”

Arya shot him a glare. “No one’s forcing you to stay. You can walk away anytime you want.”

Rihan set the beer down and sat up, leaning forward. “Walk away? After seeing what we just saw? That thing in the hospital, the whispers, the girl… You think I can just go back to normal after all that?”

Arya’s shoulders sagged slightly, and she rubbed her temples. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t know what any of this means or where it’s leading us. But Meera is out there, and these plates—this map—are the only clues we have.”

Rihan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. Let’s say we keep going. What’s the endgame here? You think we’re going to find Meera alive? Or do you think we’ll end up like that girl warned us—‘they’ll come for us too’?”

Arya didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she reached for the plates, her fingers trembling slightly as she rearranged them on the table. The symbols began to align, forming a coherent design.

“It’s a map,” she said softly, almost to herself. “Of the city.”

Rihan frowned, leaning closer. “A map of what exactly? Streets?”

“No.” Arya shook her head, tracing the lines on the plates with her fingertip. “These aren’t roads. They’re tunnels. Underground tunnels.”

Rihan let out a low whistle. “The famous cursed tunnels. Haven’t those been sealed off for decades?”

“They were,” Arya confirmed, her voice steady but her eyes distant, as if she were pulling memories from the depths of her mind. “My dad used to tell me stories about them when I was little. He said they were built a long time ago, but no one really knows why. They’re not sewer tunnels or anything like that—they’re older. Pre-city records.”

Rihan raised an eyebrow. “Pre-city? That’s ancient. Why would anyone build something like that?”

“No one knows,” Arya replied, her finger pausing on one of the plates. “But people used to say the tunnels were cursed. That people who went in didn’t come out.”

“Lovely,” Rihan said, leaning back. “So let me guess—this map is telling us to go into the tunnels?”

Arya met his gaze, her expression grim. “It looks that way.”

“Great.” He picked up his beer again, taking a long swig. “You know, I had plans this week that didn’t involve exploring cursed tunnels or getting haunted by whispers.”

Arya almost smiled at that, but the weight of the plates—and what they represented—pressed too heavily on her. “You can still leave,” she said, though her tone lacked conviction.

“And let you have all the fun? No way,” he said, setting the bottle down with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

The atmosphere was interrupted by a sudden knock at the door. The sound was sharp and deliberate, cutting through the tension in the room.

Rihan immediately grabbed the crowbar he had been keeping nearby, motioning for Arya to stay back. He moved toward the door cautiously, peeking through the peephole.

“It’s a kid,” he said, his voice low and uncertain.

Arya joined him, standing on tiptoe to look. Sure enough, a teenage girl stood in the hallway, her face pale and her hair disheveled. Her eyes darted around nervously, as if she expected someone—or something—to jump out at her at any moment.

Rihan opened the door just enough to talk to her, keeping the crowbar hidden behind his back. “Can we help you?”

The girl’s gaze snapped to his, her voice trembling. “You have to stop,” she said. “You don’t know what you’re waking up.”

Arya stepped forward, her heart pounding. “What are you talking about? Who are you?”

The girl ignored her questions, her eyes darting to the plates on the coffee table. “They’re watching you now,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’ve already gone too far.”

Arya’s stomach twisted. “Who’s watching us? What do you mean?”

The girl took a step back, shaking her head. “It’s not safe. None of it is safe. If you keep digging, they’ll come for you too.”

Rihan tightened his grip on the crowbar. “Who? Who’s going to come for us?”

The girl didn’t answer. Instead, she turned and bolted down the hallway, her footsteps echoing against the walls. Rihan took a step to follow her, but Arya grabbed his arm.

“Don’t,” she said, her voice firm.

“She knows something,” Rihan argued, his jaw clenched.

“I know,” Arya said, releasing his arm. “But she’s not going to tell us. Not now.”

Rihan sighed, closing the door and locking it. He leaned against it for a moment, exhaling deeply. “Okay, that officially wins the award for ‘Creepiest Moment of the Night.’”

Arya didn’t respond. She was already back at the table, staring at the plates and the map they formed. Her mind was racing, piecing together fragments of information and half-remembered stories from her childhood.

“What if she’s right?” Rihan asked after a long silence.

Arya looked up at him. “About what?”

“About us waking something up,” he said. “What if this map, these plates… What if they’re not meant to be found?”

Arya hesitated. The thought had crossed her mind, but she had pushed it aside, too focused on finding Meera to dwell on the possible consequences.

“We can’t stop now,” she said finally. “Not when we’re this close.”

Rihan stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. “You’re stubborn, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” she said with a faint smile.

Rihan chuckled, though it was devoid of humor. “Well, if we’re doing this, we’d better figure out where the next piece of the puzzle is. And how to get into those tunnels without, you know, dying.”

Arya nodded, her focus returning to the plates. The map they formed was incomplete, but it was enough to give them a direction—a path to follow.

As the clock ticked past midnight, the city outside seemed to grow quieter, as if it too were holding its breath. And in the dim light of the apartment, the plates glowed faintly, their symbols pulsing like a heartbeat.