The nights in Darhan city were always quiet, but to Krisan, they were unbearably loud.
He lay on his straw mattress, staring at the cracked ceiling, while his parents whispered in the other room. The walls were too thin to keep out their words.
"…we have three months before they take the house," his father's low voice carried.
"…Arjan, what will we do? He's just a boy," his mother said, worry woven through her tone.
Just a boy.
Krisan turned on his side, burying his face into the rough blanket. He hated those words more than anything. Every time they said it, it was like the world was reminding him—you are powerless.
But the dream wouldn't leave him alone. That red sky. That towering figure that looked like him, yet wasn't. The command that burned deeper than fire.
"Prepare."
The word refused to fade. It had clawed itself into his mind.
---
The next morning, Krisan sat by the marketplace, watching. Not playing, not laughing with other children—just watching. His dark eyes followed the flow of coins, the exchange of goods, the haggling voices. He watched who bowed their heads and who stood tall. He noticed which men others avoided, and which women drew respect with a single glance.
Power wasn't strength alone. It was influence, control, fear… and money.
"Krisan," a boy from the neighborhood waved a stick at him. "Want to play swords?"
Krisan's lips twitched into a faint smile, but he shook his head. "Not today."
He wasn't interested in playing with sticks. He wanted real swords. Real power.
---
That evening, something unusual happened.
A group of men arrived in the alley. Not the usual debt collectors—these were sharper, their clothes finer, their eyes crueler. At their head walked a man with rings on his fingers, the kind of man the city whispered about.
The loan shark.
Even the debt collectors bowed their heads slightly when he passed.
Krisan's father stood at the door, shielding his family. His fists were clenched, but his voice stayed calm. "I told you. I will repay everything."
The shark laughed softly, his smile more terrifying than anger. "Repay? Of course you will. But the world is cruel, Veer. Courage doesn't pay interest." His gaze slid past Arjan—straight to Krisan, who stood in the doorway.
Krisan didn't flinch. Their eyes locked.
Something in that boy's calm, burning stare made the man pause for just a breath. Then he chuckled. "Hnh. Interesting."
And he left, as suddenly as he came.
---
That night, when his parents were asleep, Krisan whispered into the dark again.
"I will never be powerless. Not like this."
He didn't know how. He didn't know when.
But as the stars glimmered faintly above the broken roof, Krisan Veer made his first vow.
He would prepare. He would watch. He would gather.
And one day, he would command people like that shark. Not be crushed by them.
A spark had been lit in the dark.
And sparks, if fed, could become fire.