Kondhwa was the kind of town that wore its silence like a shroud. Hidden away along the western coast near Mumbai, it was known for its misty mornings, crumbling colonial architecture, and a lighthouse that hadn't been operational in over thirty years.

But that didn't stop it from lighting up again.

It started on a Tuesday, just before dawn. The monsoon season had arrived early, cloaking the bay in thick fog and dampening everything in a quiet, drizzling melancholy. Fishermen heading out early reported seeing a dim pulse of light from the old Kondhwa Point Lighthouse - a single white flash, steady and cold, slicing through the mist like a knife.

By the time word reached Inspector Vikrant Joshi, the story had already mutated. Some claimed they heard voices carried by the fog. Others swore the light blinked in patterns, almost like Morse code.

Vikrant didn't believe in ghosts. He believed in tired eyes and superstitious minds - things that ran rampant in places like this. But even he couldn't ignore the reports stacking up, especially when a teenage girl went missing the same night the light returned.

Her name was Meera Salvi. Seventeen. Last seen walking along the coastal road toward the lighthouse after an argument with her parents. Her phone was found by the roadside, screen cracked, still recording a voice memo.

Joshi played it back in the dim glow of his office. Static. Wind. Then a sound like metal grinding... and something else. A voice. Garbled, distorted - but unmistakably human.

"Come closer... can you hear it too?"

He replayed it. Again. Again. The words didn't change, but his spine stiffened each time.

The lighthouse hadn't been wired for power in decades. Its doors were sealed, and the foundation was crumbling from years of neglect and sea spray. Yet somehow, it stood - like a sentinel that had suddenly remembered its duty.

Joshi rubbed his temples. Maybe it was a prank. A squatter with a radio transmitter. Or maybe something worse.

Outside, the fog pressed against the windows, thick and impenetrable. Somewhere out there, the lighthouse blinked again - a slow, deliberate pulse against the darkness.

As if calling someone.