The wind had stopped.
Ash danced in the silence.
Aamir knelt in the dust, body shaking, eyes wide and wet, his fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms. His scream had already faded, but its echo still haunted the air.
"UNCLE NAVIN!"
The battlefield, once roaring with victory, was now draped in stillness. No one moved. No one spoke. Only the faint rustle of ash carried on the dying breeze.
Aamir's breathing was ragged. His head lowered, tears dripping onto the blood-stained ground.
Memories began to flood his mind.
"Uncle Naveen, wait for me!"
A child's voice echoed in the wind.
Aamir was eight again. Running barefoot across a grassy hill. The sun was warm, the skies were blue. And ahead of him, laughing and running backwards, was Navin.
"Oh, come on! I know you can run fast!" Navin grinned. "Catch me, and I'll buy you candies!"
Little Aamir pouted, then shouted with determination. "Okay! I'll catch you, don't worry!"
