The village alarm echoed across Suryanagari like the cry of a wounded giant.
Once...
Twice...
Then a third time.
The sound tore through the silence before dawn, shattering every peaceful dream that had rested upon the village only moments earlier.
Tez sprang upright on his woven cot, his heart pounding against his chest. The nightmare from which he had awakened still lingered before his eyes—the forest of golden light swallowed by darkness, his mother's laughter fading into silence, and a desperate cry that had seemed to come from everywhere at once.
Outside, hurried footsteps pounded along the narrow earthen lane.
Someone screamed.
Another voice shouted for water.
A child began crying.
The peaceful rhythm of Suryanagari had vanished in a single heartbeat.
Before Tez could gather his thoughts, the wooden door burst open.
His father stood in the doorway.
For the first time in his thirteen years, Tez saw fear in Devadatta's eyes.
Not panic.
Not helplessness.
But the alert, controlled fear of a man who recognized danger before anyone else.
"Tez," he said, his voice firm but urgent. "Wake Mira. Stay with your mother. Do not leave them."
"What has happened, Father?"
"There is no time to explain."
Another horn sounded, followed by the frantic ringing of the temple bell.
Not in celebration.
As a warning.
Gauri had already gathered a small cloth bundle containing water, dried grain, and a woollen shawl.
Years of managing a household had taught her that even in uncertainty, preparation was a form of courage.
She knelt before Tez and cupped his face in both hands.
"No matter what you see outside," she whispered, "listen to your father."
Tez nodded, though confusion clouded his thoughts.
Mira rubbed her sleepy eyes.
"Is it morning already?"
Gauri forced a smile.
"Not yet, little bird."
She wrapped Mira in a shawl and held her close.
Outside, smoke drifted across the village.
At first it seemed no more than the smoke from cooking fires.
Then came the smell.
Not food.
Burning wood.
Burning straw.
Burning homes.
Devadatta stepped into the courtyard.
From there he could see the eastern edge of Suryanagari.
Orange flames climbed above rooftops.
One house...
Then another.
Within moments, three more caught fire.
"They're spreading too quickly," he murmured.
No lightning had struck.
No storm had passed.
This was no accident.
A frightened farmer stumbled into the lane.
"They're here!"
"Who?"
"I—I couldn't see their faces..."
Before the man could finish, an arrow struck the mud wall behind him with a heavy thud.
Everyone froze.
Devadatta pulled the farmer behind the courtyard wall.
"Inside!"
The arrow's shaft was unlike any made in Suryanagari.
Its feathers were black.
Its iron head unusually long and narrow.
Devadatta frowned.
"I've never seen craftsmanship like this."
Another arrow landed nearby.
Then another.
None struck the villagers directly.
It was as though whoever fired them wished to drive people into the open rather than kill from a distance.
The realization unsettled him even more.
Across the village, cattle broke free from their enclosures.
Oxen charged wildly through the streets.
Dogs barked without pause.
Above them, hundreds of birds erupted from the trees in frightened clouds.
Nature itself seemed desperate to flee.
The temple bell continued ringing.
Its desperate rhythm echoed against the hills.
Villagers poured toward the square carrying whatever they could seize in haste—water pots, children, walking sticks, farming tools.
Acharya Somdev stood upon the temple steps.
"Remain together!" he called.
"Protect the children!"
His calm voice steadied those close enough to hear him.
But panic spread faster than wisdom.
A deafening crash echoed from the eastern road.
A grain store had collapsed into flames.
Smoke rolled across the village like a living creature.
Then...
Out of that smoke...
Shapes emerged.
At first they seemed like shadows.
Slow.
Silent.
Unhurried.
As they drew nearer, Tez could make out human figures cloaked in dark garments.
Their faces were hidden behind cloth.
Each carried a curved sword and a short bow.
None shouted.
None celebrated.
They moved with frightening discipline.
Not like robbers.
Not like angry soldiers.
Like hunters.
One paused beside a burning house.
Instead of entering to steal valuables, he examined the doorway, looked briefly at a carved wooden symbol above it, then walked away.
Another searched a storage room only long enough to inspect its contents before leaving untouched sacks of grain behind
"They're not taking anything," Tez whispered.
"They're looking for something."
Before anyone could answer, a group of villagers rushed toward the attackers with axes and farming spears.
The first masked warrior sidestepped a strike effortlessly.
The second disarmed a farmer with a single movement.
The third struck only hard enough to knock another unconscious.
Their precision was terrifying.
It was as though they wished to waste neither time nor strength.
Devadatta understood.
"This is planned."
He turned toward the gathering crowd.
"Listen to me!"
Years of respect silenced them.
"The women, children, and elders must leave through the western fields."
He pointed toward the river.
"The younger men stay with me. Delay them. Buy time."
No one argued.
Not because he was the strongest man in Suryanagari...
But because everyone trusted him.
He looked at Tez.
"You will lead your mother and sister to the banyan tree. Stay there until I come."
"I want to help."
"You will."
Devadatta untied a small leather pouch hidden beneath his upper garment.
It was old.
Worn smooth with age.
He pressed it firmly into Tez's hands.
"Guard this."
"What is it?"
"You must never open it unless the right person asks for it."
"Who?"
"You will know."
Tez stared at the pouch.
It felt surprisingly heavy.
"What if I lose it?"
His father's expression softened.
"You won't."
For a brief moment, the chaos disappeared.
Devadatta embraced his son tightly.
"I'm proud of you."
Those simple words settled deeply within Tez's heart.
He did not know they would be among the last his father would ever speak to him in peace.
A sudden explosion shattered the moment.
The roof of a nearby house collapsed in a shower of sparks.
Smoke swallowed the lane.
"Go!" Devadatta shouted.
Tez grabbed Mira's hand.
Gauri stayed close beside them.
Together they ran toward the banyan tree as frightened villagers crowded the streets.
Children cried for their parents.
Parents searched desperately for their children.
The smoke thickened until familiar faces became indistinct shadows.
Then the crowd surged.
Someone stumbled.
Another fell.
A frightened ox burst through the lane, scattering everyone.
Tez's grip tightened around Mira's hand.
For one terrifying instant...
He lost sight of his mother.
"Mother!" he shouted.
No answer.
Then another wave of villagers rushed between them.
The smoke became almost impossible to see through.
Mira clung to him, trembling.
"Brother..."
"I know."
Somewhere behind them, above the roar of fire and frightened voices, one voice rose clear and desperate.
"Tez!"
It was Devadatta.
Without thinking, Tez turned toward the sound.
"Father!"
He pushed through the smoke, pulling Mira after him.
Again the voice came.
"Tez!"
This time it sounded closer.
He ran faster.
The smoke began to clear...
The burning street appeared before him...
But there was no one there.
Only flames.
And silence.