Shadowflame rising

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The sky was too quiet.

Parashu stood near the training grounds, still catching his breath. His body ached, muscles sore from Vishma's harsh regimen. Sweat ran down his brow as he stared out toward the far hills. Something in the air didn't feel right.

Too still.

Too calm.

The village general—a weathered man with a long scar across his neck—paced near the watchtower, eyes sharp. He had seen enough wars to recognize the signs.

And this…

This was no ordinary silence.

A moment later, a scout stumbled into the square, panting. Blood on his shirt. Terror in his eyes.

> "They're coming—! The Kara banners… black fire on red skies… They're back!"

The general's eyes went wide. "How far?"

"Not far. Less than an hour. Maybe less."

Parashu's fists clenched.

> Master Vishma was gone.

Asura was gone.

Daksha too.

Even the village leader had traveled north to seek reinforcements.

Only the village's young soldiers, half-trained and barely armed, remained. And Parashu.

The general turned to him, voice low and serious. "Boy… you've trained under Vishma. You've survived things no one else has. I need you."

Parashu didn't answer. He looked up at the sky, where black smoke already began to rise over the distant hills.

His heart pounded. His hands trembled.

But then…

He reached for the axe.

> "If they've come for blood… they'll get it."

---

A Mile Away — Kara Army Rises Again

Dust stormed behind the Kara Army's march. Dozens of soldiers, armored in black, with faces covered in bone-like masks. Their eyes gleamed red under their helmets.

At the front, Jalandhara walked in silence. His blade hung at his side. His gaze was cold, unreadable.

Beside him, Vyoma rode slowly on a pale black horse, eyes focused ahead.

She spoke softly.

> "They'll be weaker now. No elders. No legends. Just children… and fear."

Jalandhara didn't respond.

He simply whispered, "Then we burn them faster."

---

Back at the Village

The bells rang.

The villagers screamed as the gates were closed. Children pulled into shelters. Farmers grabbed spears they had never used. The general barked orders, forming a line of trembling soldiers.

Parashu stood at the front. Axe on his back. His heart racing.

> This was it.

No Vishma.

No one to save them.

Just him.

And the shadow on the horizon growing larger.

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