The battlefield was silent now.
Crows circled above, their shadows dancing across the corpses below. The ground was painted with blood — red, black, and something darker. In the center of it all stood a lone figure.
A man.
Eyes like frost.
Hair as white as ash.
Skin smooth, pale, untouched by dust — like a lotus blooming in filth.
And in his hand…
A severed head.
The last enemy.
Still warm.
Around him, only death. Hundreds. Maybe thousands. Their faces twisted in pain, but his remained still — not triumphant, not mournful. Just empty.
Then he turned. Walked away.
The field vanished behind him like a bad dream, and ahead lay a forgotten hill. On top of it — a grave.
Unmarked.
Old.
Weathered by wind, but not forgotten by him.
He fell to his knees.
> "Forgive me…"
His voice cracked. Not with fear — but with something older. Something that had lived inside his chest for years like a locked scream.
This was not his wife's grave.
Not a friend's.
Not even a mentor's.
This was his mother's.
---
Flashback within the Flashback
A young boy burst through the wooden door of a humble house, breathless and excited.
> "Maa! Dekho! Aaj maine master se nayi cheez seekhi!"
His cheeks glowed. In his hand, he held a paper with strange runes, and on his chest — a small badge of apprentice rank.
But the house was quiet.
Too quiet.
He stepped forward, grin fading.
> "Maa…?"
There she was — slumped in the corner. Still. Cold. A knife pierced her chest.
His heart stopped.
> "Maa?! MA—"
Before he could process it, the door swung open.
A villager stood there. Then another. Then more.
They saw the boy.
They saw the body.
They saw the blood on his hands.
> "He… killed her."
He screamed. He cried. He denied.
> "Maine nahi kiya!"
"Please! Mujhe nahi pata kya hua!"
But no one listened.
They didn't kill him.
They didn't imprison him.
They left him.
> "Uski maa mar gayi hai," they whispered.
"Kuch dinon mein yeh khud hi mar jaayega."
---
They say if you truly want to destroy someone —
You don't need to kill them.
You just have to take away everything that gives them a reason to live.
His name was Zayren.
---
Present
Sunny watched the vision like a prisoner behind glass. His breath caught. His chest felt heavy.
> "Why am I seeing this…?" he whispered.
Was this his enemy?
His friend?
His past?
His future?
He didn't know. The vision didn't answer.
But then — a faint, almost broken voice echoed around him.
> "He's still alive…"
Sunny's eyes widened.
The grave cracked. The world twisted.