The woman’s whisper hung in the air, cold and chilling. Sarah’s entire body locked in terror as she stared out through the fogged window. The woman in white stood still, her smile twisted and wide, while the shadowy figures behind her shifted in the mist, flickering like distant memories, half-formed but hauntingly real.
“Amir,” Sarah whispered, her voice barely audible. “She’s not alone. Do you see them?”
Amir’s eyes were fixed on the road ahead, unblinking. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cold, and he gripped the steering wheel tightly, though the engine was silent. He shook his head slowly, as if refusing to acknowledge what was happening. “This isn’t real. It can’t be real.”
But Sarah knew better. Every instinct, every bone in her body screamed that this was all too real.
The fog swirled again, and the figures behind the woman began to drift closer, their shapes becoming more defined. Sarah could make out the details now—pale, gaunt faces, hollow eyes sunken deep into their skulls. They were men, women, and children—people from different eras, dressed in tattered, old-fashioned clothes, all of them bound to this place. Each of their faces was etched with sorrow and pain, and they moved with a slow, unnatural grace, as though being pulled forward by some invisible force.
Sarah’s breath caught in her throat. These were lost souls—spirits trapped in this godforsaken stretch of road.
Beside her, Aina’s soft humming continued, the eerie tune filling the car with a sense of impending doom. The lullaby echoed in Sarah’s ears, twisting her insides with fear. How could Aina know that song? Who had taught it to her?
“Aina, stop it!” Sarah pleaded, her voice trembling. She reached back to grab her daughter’s arm, but Aina didn’t flinch. She just kept staring out the window, her eyes blank, her smile faint and distant.
“She’s coming,” Aina whispered, her voice soft but chilling.
Suddenly, the woman in white took another step forward, her bare feet silent on the road. The fog seemed to part for her, swirling around her as though it were alive. She moved with a slow, deliberate grace, her arms outstretched, her long, bony fingers beckoning toward the car.
Sarah’s heart raced as she fumbled with her seatbelt, her hands shaking. “Amir, we have to go! We need to get out of the car!”
Amir didn’t move. His face was pale, his eyes wide with fear as he stared at the woman outside. “Where… where can we go? We’re trapped here.”
Sarah knew he was right. There was no escape. They were surrounded by fog, by spirits, by something far older and more malevolent than they could understand. But staying in the car wasn’t an option either.
“She wants us to come back,” Aina said softly, her voice unnervingly calm. “She’s been waiting for us for a long time.”
The fog thickened around the car, and suddenly, the temperature dropped even further. Sarah’s breath came out in white puffs, and her skin prickled with cold. She could hear it now—a soft, distant whispering, like the voices of the dead carried on the wind.
The voices grew louder, filling the car with a cacophony of incomprehensible murmurs. Words, fragmented and broken, echoed through the mist, overlapping one another, until it felt like the entire world was whispering in Sarah’s ears.
"Help us."
"She took my baby..."
"I can't leave."
"Don't let her take you."
The voices rose and fell, an endless chorus of despair and anguish. Sarah clamped her hands over her ears, trying to block out the sound, but it was no use. The voices were inside her head, gnawing at her sanity, threatening to drag her into the same abyss where these lost souls had been trapped for so long.
Amir shook his head violently, as if trying to shake off the fog in his mind. “We can’t stay here. We have to—”
A loud knock on the window cut him off.
Sarah’s heart lurched, and she looked toward the passenger-side window. The woman in white stood right beside the car now, her face pressed against the glass, her eyes hollow and dead, her lips twisted into that grotesque smile. Her hand was still tapping on the window, each knock louder and more insistent than the last.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Amir cursed under his breath and grabbed the door handle, fumbling to open it, but Sarah grabbed his arm. “No! Don’t open it!”
“She’s not going to stop,” Amir said, his voice filled with panic. “We have to do something!”
But Sarah shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “If we open the door, she’ll take us.”
The woman’s smile widened as though she had heard Sarah’s words. Her fingers slid down the glass, leaving a trail of frost in their wake. Then, slowly, she turned her head, her hollow gaze shifting to Aina.
Sarah’s stomach dropped.
The woman raised her hand again, but this time, instead of knocking on the window, she pointed—straight at Aina.
“No,” Sarah whispered, her voice trembling. “Leave her alone.”
Aina didn’t flinch. She continued to hum softly, her eyes still locked on the fog outside. It was as though she were in a trance, completely unaware of the horror unfolding around her.
Amir was shaking, his breath coming in shallow gasps. “What does she want? Why is she pointing at Aina?”
Sarah swallowed hard, her mind racing. She thought back to Pak Hamid’s story—the langsuir, the spirit of the woman who had died in childbirth, her soul twisted by grief and rage. She wanted her baby back.
“She thinks Aina is her child,” Sarah whispered, the realization crashing over her like a wave of cold terror. “She’s been waiting for her baby… and now she thinks Aina is hers.”
Amir’s eyes widened in horror. “No… no, that’s insane! She can’t take Aina!”
But the woman in white took another step forward, her skeletal hand still pointing at Aina, her hollow eyes boring into the child with an unnatural intensity. The fog seemed to swirl around her, pulling her closer to the car, as if the very air was conspiring to bring her closer to her stolen child.
Sarah’s panic spiked, and she turned to Aina, grabbing her shoulders. “Aina, listen to me! You need to snap out of it! We have to get out of here!”
Aina’s humming faltered for a moment, but then her lips curled into a faint smile. “She’s lonely, Mommy. She just wants her baby back.”
Tears filled Sarah’s eyes as she shook Aina gently. “You’re not her baby! You’re my daughter, Aina! Please, listen to me!”
But Aina’s gaze remained distant, her small body cold and unresponsive. It was as if the woman’s spirit had already begun to claim her, drawing her into the same twisted fate that had consumed so many others.
Outside, the figures in the fog began to drift closer, their shadowy forms flickering in and out of view. The air was thick with the weight of their sorrow, their whispers growing louder, filling the car with their despair.
"Don't let her take you..."
"She took mine..."
Sarah’s heart pounded in her chest as the weight of the situation crashed down on her. She had to do something—anything—to save her daughter. But what? How could she fight a spirit, a langsuir, that had already claimed so many lives?
Suddenly, a memory flashed in Sarah’s mind—something Pak Hamid had said about the langsuir.
"She’s bound to the place where she lost her child. She can’t leave the place of her sorrow. That’s where her power is strongest."
Sarah’s eyes widened. They were still close to the house, the very place where the woman had died. The langsuir’s power was tied to that spot—it was why she couldn’t let them leave, why she was trying to claim Aina.
“Amir,” Sarah said urgently, grabbing his arm. “We need to get away from here. The further we are from the house, the weaker she’ll be.”
Amir looked at her in confusion. “But the car won’t start—what are we supposed to do?”
Sarah glanced at the fog outside, her mind racing. “We run. We’ll go on foot if we have to, but we have to get out of this place. If we can get far enough away, maybe she won’t be able to follow us.”
Amir hesitated, his eyes darting between Sarah and the woman in white, who was now standing just inches from the car, her twisted smile still fixed on her face.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice shaking.
Sarah nodded, though fear gnawed at her insides. “It’s our only chance.”
With trembling hands, Sarah unbuckled Aina’s seatbelt and pulled her into her arms. Aina didn’t resist, but she didn’t respond either—her body limp, her gaze still distant.
Amir opened the driver’s side door slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements. The moment he stepped out, the fog seemed to pulse, as if it were alive, reacting to his presence. The woman’s head snapped toward him, her
smile widening.
Sarah held her breath as she followed Amir out of the car, clutching Aina tightly. The moment her feet hit the ground, the coldness of the fog seeped into her bones, making her shiver uncontrollably.
Amir grabbed Sarah’s hand, his grip firm but trembling. “Run,” he whispered. “Now.”
And with that, they sprinted down the road, the voices of the dead chasing them through the mist.