The sun was already setting when Maarun stepped out of the college gates, his backpack hanging off one shoulder, headphones dead, and shoes worn thin. The world moved in fast-forward around him — classmates laughing, couples walking hand in hand, bikes buzzing past — but he walked like a ghost in slow motion.
Another exhausting day. Another reminder that he was invisible.
His phone buzzed. A message from Dev:
"Dinner's your turn. Don't bring those boring instant noodles again 😤"
He smiled faintly. Dev and Roshan — his only constants in this strange, crowded city. His roommates. His brothers.
He took the long way home, a quiet path behind the old sports ground. Less noise. More peace. Birds circled in the fading sky, and the wind carried the scent of dry leaves and broken dreams.
Then he saw it.
Half-buried in the dirt near the path's edge, something glinted. At first, he thought it was a bottle cap or a coin. But as he stepped closer, he realized — it was a dice. A strange one.
It wasn't plastic or wooden. It looked ancient — made of smooth black stone, with glowing silver markings instead of numbers. Only one side had a symbol: a circle with tiny lines running outward like sunrays. The rest were blank.
He bent down, brushing off the dust, and picked it up.
The moment his fingers closed around it, the world seemed to… pause.
No sound. No wind. Just silence. A pressure in his ears, like being underwater.
Then — snap — everything went back to normal.
A chill ran down his spine.
He pocketed the dice and continued walking. Maybe it was just a trick of the light. Or maybe he was just tired.
When he reached the apartment, Dev and Roshan were already arguing over TV remote rights. The smell of burnt popcorn hung in the air.
"Yo, Mr. Philosopher's back," Roshan said with a grin. "Found the meaning of life on your walk?"
Maarun tossed his bag in the corner. "No. But I found something weird."
He pulled out the dice and placed it on the table.
Both of them leaned in. "Where'd you get this?" Dev asked.
Maarun shrugged. "On the ground. Near the sports ground."
"It's heavy," Roshan said, lifting it. "Feels… alive."
Maarun didn't respond. He stared at it. The symbol on its surface almost seemed to pulse.
That night, after dinner and dumb jokes and half-finished college assignments, Maarun lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The dice was on the table beside him, glowing faintly under the moonlight coming through the window.
His eyes grew heavy. His body ached.
Sleep came quickly. But peace did not.
He dreamt.
Of a boy lying dead on the ground.
Of shadows watching him from trees without leaves.
Of a voice calling him, whispering a word he didn't understand —
"Dice-born."
And then—
He sat up in bed.
Sweating. Breathing hard.
The dice was gone from the table.
It was in his hand.
And the symbol was glowing bright as fire.