Asura stood alone near the riverbank, where the water ran quiet.
The village was behind him, filled with the sound of hammers and voices rebuilding—but his heart was somewhere else. In the past. In the fire. In the screams.
He stared at the sky, hands clenched tight.
Years ago, before everything burned, the Kara Army had sent him a message. A scroll wrapped in black cloth. He still remembered every word.
> "Fight for us, and we'll spare your family. Give us your village, and you'll get back your wife and daughter. Refuse, and you lose everything."
Asura had held that scroll in his shaking hands. The choice was clear—and cruel.
He had looked at his wife's necklace, kept safe in his pocket. He had thought of Durga's laughter, the way she would run through the fields barefoot.
And still, he chose honor.
"I won't betray my people," he had said that night. "If I die, I'll die as their protector."
He told himself he didn't need help. That he and Daksha could stop the Kara Army together. Two warriors, both trained under Gharvek. Both strong.
But when the sky turned red with fire and the horns of war echoed across the valley—
Daksha wasn't there.
Asura fought alone.
He remembered blood. So much blood.
The village burned. The children screamed. The walls fell.
His wife died at the gate, blade in hand.
The village leader was killed near the granary.
And Durga—his daughter—was taken.
The Kara Army left only ashes behind. Ashes... and silence.
Now, standing by the river, Asura whispered, "I didn't betray my people... but I lost everything anyway."
He knelt, touching the water with his fingers.
"Where were you, Daksha?"
No one answered.
Just the wind, and the sound of the water moving on—like time itself, never waiting for anyone.
That time
Then daksha came and put his hand on asur's shoulder.
Asura asked him that day when Kara army attack on our village " where were you " ?
I was scared and " I run away" daksha