The Dawn Beyond the Fire"
Night covered the Whispering Hills as Ardhu, Mina, and the elders prepared to leave. The Chronicle was wrapped in layers of cloth and sealed inside a bronze case. The last symbols of Bengal's golden age rested within it — medicine, astronomy, philosophy, and the stories of countless lives.
But before they could descend toward the eastern plains, flames lit up the forest below.
The enemy had arrived.
Warriors marched through the valley, torches burning in long lines. Drums thundered like a heartbeat of destruction. Mina tightened her grip on her staff. Ardhu felt the weight of destiny on his shoulders — heavier than the Chronicle itself.
"We can't outrun them," Mina whispered.
"No," Ardhu replied, "but we can outsmart them."
He led the group through a hidden tunnel beneath the ruins — an ancient escape route carved by monks centuries ago. The passage opened beside a waterfall at the edge of a vast river. The roar of water drowned the noise of war.
The elders boarded small boats waiting under the rocks. Mina helped them in, one by one.
But Ardhu hesitated.
"If they find this monastery empty, they'll think the Chronicle is still here," he said. "That will buy you time."
Mina stared at him, shocked. "You'll face them alone?"
Ardhu smiled softly. "Knowledge survives when someone stands for it."
Before she could protest, he placed the bronze case in her hands.
"Take it east. Rebuild the light."
Then he ran back toward the ruins, leaving only his footprints in the wet grass.
When the enemy reached the hilltop, they found smoke, broken stones, and a lone boy standing firm — not with weapons, but with courage.
By dawn, the elders' boats had reached the eastern marshlands. Mina looked back at the fading hills.
The Chronicle was safe.
Bengal's wisdom lived on.
And Ardhu's stand became a legend whispered for generations —
the boy who carried the last light of a golden age.