Aamir stood in a battlefield full of corpses.
His eyes locked onto Riya, her body drenched in blood, her legs twisted unnaturally, her face pale as death. Yet she crawled—inch by inch—toward him. Her trembling fingers reached out, her voice a fragile whisper wrapped in agony.
"Save me, Aamir..."
Chaos reigned around him. The battlefield was a sea of crimson. Shattered weapons, torn banners, lifeless bodies—humans and beasts alike—littered the blood-soaked ground.
The air hung heavy with the metallic tang of blood. Smoke curled skyward from distant fires. The sky itself seemed to mourn, draped in a dark red haze.
Aamir stood frozen. His mind refused to comprehend the horror before him.
His mother, Rajasvi—the only family he had left—was missing. Taken by the beasts. The thought sent fresh panic racing through his veins. His eyes darted desperately across the battlefield.
And then—a shadow moved. Amid the wreckage, a tall, hulking figure emerged, cloaked in darkness.
Before Aamir could react, the ground beneath him buckled. Cracks spread like spiderwebs across the bloodied earth.
A deafening roar split the air—a sound not of this world.
The earth itself seemed to tear apart.
And then—darkness.
Aamir jolted awake with a scream.
His breath came in ragged gasps, sweat matting his hair to his forehead. His hands clawed at the sheets as if trying to escape the lingering nightmare.
"Aamir," a soft voice called.
His wild gaze snapped toward it—and met his mother's worried eyes.
Rajasvi sat beside him, her face etched with concern. Without hesitation, she pulled him into a tight embrace.
"It's all right, my son," she whispered, her voice soothing. "I'm here. Everyone is safe."
Gradually, his frantic breathing eased. The nightmare faded, though faint echoes still haunted the edges of his mind.
His surroundings came into focus—a small room, walls lined with wooden shelves, soft lantern light flickering across the floor. The comforting scent of medicinal herbs filled the air.
A faint movement caught his eye. Riya sat nearby, perched on a wooden stool. Her once vibrant presence seemed dimmed—her skin pale, her movements slow and strained.
"Where are we?" Aamir rasped, his throat dry. "And... what about the beasts?"
Riya managed a small, tired smile.
"You've been unconscious for five days, Aamir," she replied softly. "The beasts were driven back. Help arrived."
Before he could reply, the door creaked open.
A tall figure entered, radiating quiet authority. His strong frame filled the doorway, each step deliberate, controlled.
A simple white shirt clung to his muscular form. A leather belt secured a sword at his waist. Long black hair, loosely tied, framed a face both fierce and calm.
Aamir instantly recognized him—Navin. His uncle.
Navin's gaze swept the room, lingering briefly on Rajasvi. A faint smile touched his lips.
"Your son, Rajasvi, has a brave heart," he said with quiet pride.
His sharp eyes then turned to Riya.
"And this girl... she fought even after sustaining grave wounds. Both of them show remarkable potential. With proper training, they could become great warriors."
He took a step forward, his tone firm.
"That is why I want to take them to the capital—to enroll them in Nalanda University of Wizardry and Warfare."
A Silent Grief
Aamir, still dazed, looked at him thoughtfully.
"Uncle Navin... my mother should decide. But... what about Riya's father? Shouldn't he have a say?"
At his words, Riya's expression shifted. Her fingers curled into fists. Her shoulders trembled.
A shadow passed over her pale face. Her lips pressed together, holding back a storm of emotion.
Aamir hesitated. He wanted to ask her—but feared the answer.
Instead, he turned to his mother.
"Ma... what happened here? What about Riya's father?"
Rajasvi's gaze darkened. She looked at Riya, her voice heavy with sorrow.
"Her father has been missing since the day of the Beast Invasion," she said softly. "He wasn't among the survivors. But we are still searching—"
"I know he's alive," Riya interrupted, her voice trembling but defiant.
A faint, trembling smile crossed her lips, but her eyes told the truth—they shimmered with unshed tears.
She held onto hope with all her strength, though her heart already sensed the truth.
Before anyone could speak, urgent footsteps thundered down the hall.
The door burst open. Two men entered, faces grim.
"Commander!" one gasped. "We found more bodies in the ruins. You need to see this."
A chilling silence gripped the room.
Riya's breath quickened. Her chest rose and fell unevenly.
Aamir reached out, placing gentle hands on her shoulders.
"Don't worry," he said softly. "Let's go. Together."
Aamir extended his hand. For a moment, Riya hesitated—then slowly placed her trembling fingers in his.
"You're not alone anymore," he said softly.
Riya gave a weak nod. The warmth of his grip steadied her just enough to take the first step forward.
But deep down, all of them felt it—that cold, sinking dread.
They made their way through the ruined city streets. Charred beams jutted from broken buildings. Ash drifted in the air.
The stench of death hung heavy.
Rows of bodies lay beneath tattered sheets. Guards moved silently among them, faces grim.
And then—Riya saw him.
Her steps faltered. Her eyes widened.
Her father lay among the dead.
A gaping hole marked his chest—a wound no one could survive.
Time seemed to stop.
No... this isn't real. This can't be real.
A strangled sob escaped her lips.
Her legs gave out. She collapsed beside his body, shaking uncontrollably.
Aamir's throat burned. His eyes stung, but he refused to let the tears fall.
Be strong. For her.
He held her tighter.
I couldn't save her father... but I'll protect what he loved most in this world.
"Aamir..." she whispered, voice breaking. "He's gone... my father is gone..."
Aamir knelt beside her, pulling her close. No words came—only silent grief.
Memories flooded Riya's mind.
The day her father danced with joy when she discovered her magical affinity.
The day of her baptism, when he beamed with pride.
The ring and staff he gifted her—her mother's most treasured heirlooms.
And now... he was gone.
A warm hand rested gently on her head.
Rajasvi knelt beside her, pulling her into an embrace.
"Don't cry, dear," she whispered. "I will take care of you. You will never be alone."
Riya sobbed in her arms.
Grief poured from her in a flood.
Navin knelt by Aamir, his voice low.
"Sometimes protecting others means carrying their pain too," he said. "You'll need strength for that, boy. A strength deeper than magic or sword."
Aamir nodded once, the words searing into his heart.
Aamir clenched his fists.
This war—this cursed invasion—had stolen too much.
But he swore to himself:
I will not let Riya face this pain alone. I will fight. I will protect. Whatever it takes.