When a skeptical traveler ventures into a mist-shrouded forest in search of local legends, he finds himself trapped in an endless loop of choices—until a mysterious third path leads him to a terrifying truth that blurs the line between reality, memory, and something far beyond human.
In the cold mist of a remote hill station forest, Ravi, a 28-year-old man driven by curiosity and a taste for the unexplained, embarks on a solo trek despite his sister's warnings. Local myths speak of a haunted path, forest spirits, and vanishing travelers—but Ravi, amused and skeptical, brushes them off. With only a backpack, a walking stick, and a voice note from his sister echoing her fears, he steps into the woods in search of the truth.
As the mist thickens, Ravi arrives at a fork in the trail—left, right, and an ominous third path straight ahead, overgrown and untouched. Dismissing the center path, he chooses the left. But no matter which path he takes, he inexplicably returns to the same clearing. The forest has no memory of his steps, only loops. Time stands still—13:13. No signal. Just his sister’s voice on repeat, eerily unchanged.
Desperate to break the cycle, Ravi turns toward the third path—the one that feels wrong in all the right ways. The deeper he ventures, the more the world around him warps. Shadows move unnaturally. The silence becomes oppressive. He sees flashes of figures, hears whispers calling him back. Then he finds the tree.
Old. Blackened. Covered in photos—dozens of strangers with their eyes violently scratched out. Among them: his own. Confusion turns to horror.
In a clearing, he finds a tall, spotless mirror, freestanding and unreal. It reflects not just Ravi—but a version of him in a twisted forest, with a red sky and a lifeless silence. The reflection smiles. Ravi does not. It begins to move on its own, speaking in his voice but colder, inhuman:
“You wanted to see the truth. Now it’s staring you in the face.”
Terrified, Ravi tries to flee—but again, the forest brings him back. The same fork. The same time. His phone plays the same voice note. Reality fractures. He hurls the phone away, but nothing changes.
Later, a weathered forest guard appears—calm, routine. He finds Ravi, collapsed beneath the photo-covered tree. Still. Empty-eyed. The guard sighs, takes a Polaroid of Ravi’s face, and pins it to the tree.
As he walks away, something is off. The guard unbuttons his collar, revealing metallic skin and softly glowing veins beneath. Not human. His eyes flicker with a mechanical hum before resetting. He glances back at Ravi—whose photo now trembles slightly—as the forest glitches, and the sky flickers red.
The mist closes again. A whisper lingers in the air:
“Some paths you never leave… even if you keep walking.”
Fade to black. The faint sound of a phone ringing. Then silence.. In the cold mist of a remote hill station forest, Ravi, a 28-year-old man driven by curiosity and a taste for the unexplained, embarks on a solo trek despite his sister's warnings. Local myths speak of a haunted path, forest spirits, and vanishing travelers—but Ravi, amused and skeptical, brushes them off. With only a backpack, a walking stick, and a voice note from his sister echoing her fears, he steps into the woods in search of the truth.
As the mist thickens, Ravi arrives at a fork in the trail—left, right, and an ominous third path straight ahead, overgrown and untouched. Dismissing the center path, he chooses the left. But no matter which path he takes, he inexplicably returns to the same clearing. The forest has no memory of his steps, only loops. Time stands still—13:13. No signal. Just his sister’s voice on repeat, eerily unchanged.
Desperate to break the cycle, Ravi turns toward the third path—the one that feels wrong in all the right ways. The deeper he ventures, the more the world around him warps. Shadows move unnaturally. The silence becomes oppressive. He sees flashes of figures, hears whispers calling him back. Then he finds the tree.
Old. Blackened. Covered in photos—dozens of strangers with their eyes violently scratched out. Among them: his own. Confusion turns to horror.
In a clearing, he finds a tall, spotless mirror, freestanding and unreal. It reflects not just Ravi—but a version of him in a twisted forest, with a red sky and a lifeless silence. The reflection smiles. Ravi does not. It begins to move on its own, speaking in his voice but colder, inhuman:
“You wanted to see the truth. Now it’s staring you in the face.”
Terrified, Ravi tries to flee—but again, the forest brings him back. The same fork. The same time. His phone plays the same voice note. Reality fractures. He hurls the phone away, but nothing changes.
Later, a weathered forest guard appears—calm, routine. He finds Ravi, collapsed beneath the photo-covered tree. Still. Empty-eyed. The guard sighs, takes a Polaroid of Ravi’s face, and pins it to the tree.
As he walks away, something is off. The guard unbuttons his collar, revealing metallic skin and softly glowing veins beneath. Not human. His eyes flicker with a mechanical hum before resetting. He glances back at Ravi—whose photo now trembles slightly—as the forest glitches, and the sky flickers red.
The mist closes again. A whisper lingers in the air:
“Some paths you never leave… even if you keep walking.”
Fade to black. The faint sound of a phone ringing. Then silence.
