The night wrapped itself around Arjun like a heavy cloak. After hours of relentless walking through the dense forest, he and the last group of survivors found a small abandoned rest house hidden between towering trees. No lights. No voices. Only the whisper of wind sliding across broken windows.
Inside, everyone settled quietly, but no one truly rested.
Arjun sat near the door, sword across his knees, ears tuned to every rustle outside. The world had changed so fast—too fast—and somewhere deep inside, he could feel the weight of something darker approaching.
For the first time in days, he allowed himself to think.
"Why me?"
Why had fate thrown him into the center of this collapsing world? He was no chosen one, no commander, no saint. Just a traveler who wanted to see the planet—not save it.
But destiny didn't ask for permission.
As the survivors slept, Arjun replayed the last few days in his mind—the battles, the escape, the shadows that hunted them. The teachings of the Khalsa echoed within him:
"When all doors close, rise and become the door."
Maybe he wasn't chosen because he was special.
Maybe he was chosen because he refused to run.
A soft sound pulled him from his thoughts.
Footsteps.
Not human.
Slow… dragging… scraping against the forest floor.
Arjun stood, gripping his blade as the survivors stirred behind him.
The moonlight through the cracked window revealed movement—dark silhouettes gathering at the tree line.
The enemy had found them again.
But this time, there was no fear in Arjun.
Only resolve.
He turned to the group and whispered,"Get ready. Dawn is coming—and we will meet it standing."
Outside, the shadows crept closer.
Inside, a storm awakened in Arjun's chest.
Tonight… everything would change.