The Festival of Gratitude continued long into the night.
The village square glowed beneath hundreds of tiny earthen lamps. Their golden flames danced gently in the evening breeze, illuminating smiling faces that knew little of fear. Children raced through the open courtyard with flower garlands around their necks, while musicians played melodies that had echoed through Suryanagari for generations.
Above them, the stars seemed unusually bright.
Acharya Somdev sat beneath the great banyan tree, watching the celebration with quiet satisfaction. Beside him rested the village priest, Acharya Rudranath, whose silver beard reached almost to his chest.
"The children laugh as though time itself belongs to them," Rudranath said softly.
Somdev smiled.
"As every child should."
After a long silence, Rudranath lowered his voice.
"Have you noticed the sky?"
Somdev slowly looked upward.
The stars shone brilliantly...
Yet something was wrong.
A faint crimson glow lingered along the northern horizon, though the moon had already risen.
"It should not be there," Rudranath whispered.
Before Somdev could answer, a flock of birds suddenly burst from the forest, flying wildly across the night sky.
They did not circle.
They did not call to one another.
They fled.
The old teacher's expression darkened.
"In all my years," he murmured, "I have never seen birds abandon the forest after sunset."
---
Meanwhile, Tez sat beside the river with Mira.
She floated tiny leaf boats carrying little clay lamps upon the gentle current.
"Do you think they reach the gods?" she asked.
Tez laughed.
"If your lamp burns brightly, perhaps."
Mira carefully placed another lamp into the water.
"Then this one is for Father."
"And Mother?"
"This one."
"And you?"
She looked thoughtful.
"I don't need one."
"Why not?"
"Because I have you."
Tez smiled and gently placed his hand upon her head.
"I will always be here."
The words came easily.
Neither of them knew how impossible promises could become.
---
As the festival drew to a close, Devadatta gathered his family.
"Come," he said warmly. "Before we sleep, there is one tradition we must never forget."
Together they climbed the small hill behind their home.
From there, the entire village lay beneath them.
Hundreds of lamps shimmered like stars scattered upon the earth.
"When I was your age," Devadatta said, "my father brought me here every year."
He knelt beside Tez.
"He told me that no kingdom, no treasure, and no army is greater than a home filled with people who love one another."
He rested a firm hand upon Tez's shoulder.
"Never measure your strength by what you possess."
"Then how should I measure it?" Tez asked.
Devadatta looked toward the glowing village.
"By what remains when everything else is taken away."
The words puzzled Tez.
"Who could take everything away?"
His father did not answer immediately.
Instead, he gazed toward the distant northern forest.
"I pray no one ever teaches you the answer."
---
Late that night...
The celebration faded.
One by one, the lamps burned out.
Only the temple flame remained, flickering steadily against the darkness.
Most of Surya Gram slept peacefully.
But not everyone.
Devadatta awoke suddenly.
No sound had disturbed him.
No dream lingered in his mind.
Yet an uneasy feeling gripped his heart.
Quietly, he stepped outside.
The village lay silent beneath the moonlight.
Then he noticed it.
The dogs.
Every dog in the village stood facing the northern forest.
None barked.
None moved.
They simply stared.
Moments later, cattle within their shelters grew restless.
Horses stamped nervously.
Even the crickets had stopped singing.
An unnatural silence settled across the valley.
Devadatta's hand instinctively tightened around the wooden staff leaning beside the doorway.
He had spent his entire life reading the moods of nature.
Nature was speaking now.
It was warning him.
---
Far beyond the fields...
Deep inside the ancient forest...
Several shadowed figures gathered beneath towering sal trees.
Their faces remained hidden beneath dark cloaks.
One of them unfolded the same aged parchment marked with the blazing sun enclosed within a circle.
"The village sleeps," another voice said.
"The boy knows nothing."
"He must remain alive."
"And the others?"
A long silence followed.
Finally, the tallest figure answered.
"No witnesses."
The words disappeared into the darkness like a blade slipping into its sheath.
---
Before dawn, a cold wind swept across Suryanagari.
It extinguished the last lamp burning in the temple courtyard.
Acharya Somdev awoke immediately.
His heart pounded.
For reasons he could not explain, he hurried outside.
The sacred flame...
The flame that village priests had kept alive for generations...
Had gone out.
His face turned pale.
"It has never happened..."
he whispered.
"Never."
At that very moment...
Far beyond the river...
A thin column of black smoke began rising above the northern trees.
Then another.
Then another.
The horizon slowly darkened.
Tez, still asleep, dreamed of walking through a forest of golden light.
He heard his mother's laughter.
His father's steady voice.
Mira calling his name.
Then...
The laughter stopped.
The light vanished.
A single cry echoed through the darkness.
He awoke with a start.
Outside, the first rays of dawn had not yet touched the earth.
A loud horn suddenly shattered the silence.
Once.
Twice.
Then again.
It was not the temple conch.
It was the village alarm.
Devadatta burst through the doorway.
His calm face had disappeared.
"Tez!"
The boy jumped to his feet.
"Take your sister."
"What happened?"
"There is no time!"
Another horn echoed through the valley.
Then came something no child of Surya Gram had ever heard before—
The terrified screams of their neighbours.
And from beyond the eastern fields...
The sky turned red.
Not with sunrise.
But with fire.