Black Avatare

17 | STUDY

Binara squinted up at the closed wing of the walauwa, hands tightening around her doll. The windows reflected the aureate rays of sunset, which stood out from the stone and wrought iron grilles. The sky was surprisingly clear—a cotton candy pink that bathed the place in a rosy glow. What struck her as even more peculiar was the missing girl at the window. A week had gone by since she last saw her sister. No, no, no, she has to be there.

She took to her heels, hurtling towards the front of the house. Her short hair bobbed to the rhythm of her feet. As she rounded the corner, the undergrowth morphed into manicured shrubs, which lined the avenue all the way to the roundabout driveway.

Within minutes, she sprinted up to the verandah and pushed through the front door. Her momentum took her across the foyer and up the staircase. She was very much aware of the hallway that would lead her to the closed wing, even though she wasn't supposed to go there. It was time to break that rule.

The further she went, the more desolate it became. The dust on the floor suggested that this part of the manor hadn't been disturbed for a long time. Cloth covered the furniture and candleholders—looming phantoms that made her imagination act up. Her heart pounded in her head, and her breaths turned ragged. At least it wasn't nighttime.

Binara came to a stop outside the very room where her sister was when she spied her at the window. Her small hand gripped the handle and turned. She winced when it creaked—a loud, grating protest.

She took a step in—then another. It was a study, judging by the table and the old book shelves. On one wall was a mural of the family tree, with the Mayadunne crest woven into the design. She grew aware of a faint spectral undertone—white noise she detected in various parts of the walauwa, including kaluon-powered appliances, though it was stronger here. She knew the sensation to be similar to the lingering odor long after durian was consumed, but it still made her skin crawl. It meant one thing—this room had a ghost at some point in the past. She wondered if that was why it was closed off in the first place.

"Malki, where's my sister?" she asked her doll in a small voice and fingered the flower pin that now adorned her hair. "Do you think something happened to her?"

Binara bounded over to the window and gazed out. The wilderness stretched into the distance, partially obscured by trees. Turning around, she inspected the study again.

Her eyes landed on the portrait above the table—that of a bearded man with a hooked nose. There were other portraits, but this was the most prominent. She went up to the shelves and paused to riffle through a book. A puff of air escaped her.

It was a ledger that seemed to have belonged to her great-grandfather, and it listed strange items like "sura amulets". A quick inspection revealed books dedicated to ghosthunting, though the content was too old and complex for her to understand. She goggled at the diagrams of various rituals, with detailed instructions. Her mind struggled to wrap around the fact that there were others like her in her family and that they had actively hunted ghosts.

As astounding as the discovery was, worry for her sister rocketed up, collecting mass and clogging up her throat. She pushed down a sob and wiped her dusty hands on her frock. In fact, dust formed a thin film on all surfaces, and her footprint revealed the greyed wooden flooring. Suddenly, her heart skipped a beat.

Hers weren't the only footprints on the floor.

"Malki, look! Look!" Binara scrutinized the prints, almost jumping in excitement. "She was really here!"

Sure enough, there were multiple shoe marks on the floor as well as a sweeping pattern, which she thought could be the flowing cloak her sister had on. There were no other clues. Fat teardrops fell, and she swiped a hand over her eyes. I must find her! As desperation set in, she ran out.