Inheritance of Ash

I knew something was wrong the moment we stepped out of the airport, even though I couldn’t explain why.

Everything looked normal. People rushed past us with luggage, announcements echoed from every direction, and the air carried the usual mix of exhaustion and impatience that came with travel. My younger brother was already running ahead, dragging my sister with him while they argued about something pointless. My mother was trying to control a trolley that refused to cooperate, and my father was busy making sure none of our bags got left behind.

It should have felt like any other trip. But it didn’t.

I paused for a moment, letting my eyes move across the surroundings. The floor looked freshly cleaned, but there were muddy footprints near the exit that didn’t match the rest of the area. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant, but there was something damp underneath it, something that didn’t belong. It wasn’t strong enough for anyone else to notice, but it stayed in my head.

“Shubham, stop standing there and help,” my mother said, clearly irritated.

“I am helping,” I replied, picking up one of the smaller suitcases.

I forced myself to move, even though that uneasy feeling hadn’t gone away. My brain worked like that. It picked up details and held onto them, even when there was no clear reason to.

We were just about to head toward the exit when a man approached us.. “Excuse me, are you the Malhotra family?” His voice was calm and polite, the kind that made people trust him without thinking too much about it.

I turned to look at him carefully. He was dressed in a clean white shirt without a single crease, his hair neatly combed back. His posture was straight, and his smile looked practiced, like he had used it many times before.

“Yes, we are,” my father replied, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

“I’m the caretaker of your ancestral house,” the man said, nodding slightly. “I’ve been managing it for years now, ever since you moved abroad.”

I frowned slightly.

Caretaker?

No one had ever mentioned anything about a caretaker.

“Oh… we weren’t told about that,” my mother said, glancing at my father.

The man nodded as if that response was expected.“That’s understandable,” he said. “Communication hasn’t been very clear, especially after your elder brother passed away.”

I immediately looked at my father. That didn’t make sense. My uncle wasn’t dead. At least, no one had told us anything like that.

For a moment, my father hesitated, and I thought he would question it. I waited for him to correct the man, to say that there must be some mistake.

But he didn’t.

Instead, his expression changed. Confusion settled into something quieter, something uncertain.

“Yes… right,” he said slowly.

That was the moment I felt something shift.

It was small, almost unnoticeable, but it was there.

Something was wrong.

“There’s a car waiting outside for you,” the man continued smoothly. “A black Scorpio. Some of your relatives are already there. They came to receive you.”

“Relatives?” my mother asked, surprised.

“Yes, from your ancestral side,” he replied. “They’ve been connected to your family for years.”

That seemed to settle it.

Family always made things easier to believe.

The Scorpio was parked near the exit, its engine running quietly.

The first thing I noticed was how many people were already inside.

There were too many.

As the doors opened, several people stepped out at once, smiling and talking as if they had been waiting for us for a long time. A woman approached us first, her expression overly warm.

“You must be exhausted from the journey,” she said. “It’s so good to finally meet you.”

My parents smiled politely, trying to respond in the same way.

“Yes, it was a long flight,” my mother said.

“We’ve heard so much about you,” the woman continued, even though it didn’t feel true.

More people joined in. Voices overlapped, laughter filled the space, and everything felt slightly too loud, slightly too forced.

No one introduced themselves.

No one said anything meaningful.

I shifted my attention back to the car.

That’s when I saw them.

Three men were still sitting inside.

They weren’t smiling. They weren’t talking. They were wearing masks that didn’t match anything else about the situation.

Something about them felt completely out of place.

A quiet warning settled in my mind, but I didn’t say anything.

“Come, let’s not stand here,” the woman said. “We can talk on the way.”

My parents hesitated for a moment, but not long enough. They got into the car. I stayed back for a second longer. Just for

I took out my notebook quickly and wrote down the license plate number.

KL-07 4583.

Then I closed it and slipped it back into my pocket before anyone noticed.

After that, I got into the car. The door shut behind me with a dull sound. The air inside felt heavier than it should have.

I took a seat near the window, aware of the masked man sitting across from me. He wasn’t looking at me directly, but I could tell he was paying attention.

“Was the journey comfortable?” someone asked from the front.

“It was tiring, but fine,” my father replied.

Conversation started again. Light, casual, almost normal. But it didn’t feel normal. I leaned back slightly and coughed. At first, it sounded natural. Then I made it worse.

“You okay?” my sister asked.“My throat’s dry,” I said, reaching into my bag. I took out a mask and put it on.

One of the masked men shifted slightly. He noticed.

I pretended not to.

The sound came quietly.

A soft hiss.

I froze for a moment, but forced myself not to react. Something was wrong.

I didn’t turn my head or look around. I stayed still and focused on what was happening. Within seconds, the voices in the car began to fade. My mother stopped speaking in the middle of a sentence. My brother’s head dropped to one side as his body went limp. The woman who had been talking constantly suddenly went silent.

One by one, everyone lost consciousness.

I took a deep breath and held it, forcing my body to stay calm even as my chest began to tighten. The discomfort came quickly, but I ignored it and focused on counting instead.

The car turned left. After that, it continued straight for a while. There was a slight bump, probably a speed breaker. A few moments later, it turned right. I memorized everything I could, building the route in my head.

Time felt stretched, longer than it should have been. My lungs burned, and my body demanded air, but I refused to react. I stayed completely still, as if I had already passed out like the others.

After some time, the window slid open and fresh air rushed into the car. I heard the masked men finally breathing normally. Only then did I allow myself a slow and careful inhale, making sure it wasn’t noticeable.

I kept my eyes closed and my body completely still, pretending to be unconscious.

The car began to slow down.

A faint electronic sound followed, like a gate unlocking.

We moved forward again for a short distance before coming to a stop.

The doors opened, and I heard new voices. These voices were different from the ones inside the car.

“Bring them inside,” someone said.

“Careful,” another voice added.

Hands grabbed me and lifted me out of the car. I felt myself being placed onto something hard, most likely a stretcher. Even then, I didn’t move or react.

I didn’t open my eyes. But my mind was wide awake. Because now I understood one thing clearly. This was not an accident.

Whatever was happening had been planned from the beginning…