A crimson rift opened in the air.
Aamir stepped through, his mother's lifeless body in his arms. Her silver hair brushed against his chest as though still alive, clinging to him like threads of memory that refused to let go. Riya followed behind quietly, her hand resting on her staff, her eyes lowered with grief.
The portal closed, and silence swallowed them whole.
They stood at the edge of PurushottamPuri. Once, it had been a lively town filled with laughter, markets, and festivals. Now, it was abandoned—roofless houses crumbled under time, weeds breaking through broken stone paths, windows hollow and staring like empty eyes. No villagers lived here anymore. Only the ghosts of what once was remained.
