Episode 1: "Before the Storm"
The sun rose slowly over the eastern hills, its golden light slipping through the morning mist like a secret being whispered across the land.
In the heart of a quiet village called Devdungri, the day began like any other. The smell of wet soil filled the air, and the sound of water being drawn from the well echoed between mud-walled homes. Children laughed as they ran barefoot across fields, chasing one another through the tall grass.
And beneath a massive banyan tree at the village edge, sat a boy—Veer.
His eyes were half-closed, not in meditation, but in thought. A small stone rested on his knee, and he tapped it rhythmically, lost in the flow of his own silence. He wasn't like the other boys his age—always shouting, playing, dreaming of hunting or war. Veer was quieter, more thoughtful. Some in the village called him strange. Others called him gifted.
He called himself... uncertain.
"Still hiding up here?" a voice called out.
Veer turned to see Kashi, her long black braid swinging as she climbed up the small slope toward him. In one hand, she held a bundle of wild herbs; in the other, a wooden bucket of water.
"I'm not hiding," Veer replied, shifting to sit up straighter.
Kashi smirked. "Right. Because sleeping under a tree before sunrise is what brave warriors do."
Veer didn't answer. Instead, he looked out toward the horizon, where the hills met the sky. Somewhere beyond those hills, past forests and rivers and cities, there were people with power—real power. Stories of awakened bloodlines, grand battles, and ancient legacies reached even their small village from time to time.
He didn't know what his bloodline was.
He didn't even know if he wanted to.
Kashi plopped down beside him and offered a piece of fruit. "Dai maa said if you don't start helping around the house, she'll tie you to the water oxen."
Veer grinned faintly. "She says that every week."
"She means it this time. She said she'd braid flowers in your hair too."
The two laughed softly, the kind of laughter that only comes from childhood, from places untouched by pain.
Later that day, Veer walked through the village square, helping move sacks of grain with the others. The streets bustled with life—potters shaping clay, women trading spices, elders telling tales under the shade of neem trees. Life was simple, but it had rhythm.
At dusk, Veer and his teacher, a quiet man known only as Guruji, sat by the riverbank. Guruji wasn't a fighter—not anymore—but there was something in his presence that felt like stone beneath still water.
"You've been quiet today," Guruji said.
"Just… thinking," Veer replied.
"Good. The mind is like a blade. It sharpens with silence."
Veer glanced at the older man. "Do you think I'll awaken?"
Guruji looked at the sky, then back at Veer. "Everyone awakens. The question is: what do they become afterward?"
The boy nodded, but he didn't fully understand. Not yet.
As night fell, stars began to fill the sky—each one a tiny fire burning in the black sea above.
And far away, across that sea of stars and silence, something stirred.
A candle was lit in a hidden chamber.
A name was whispered in a language forgotten by time.
Eyes opened.
He has awakened, a voice murmured.
Not yet, came the reply. But soon.
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End of Episode 1