Part 1

Volume One
I came empty-handed, yet from the darkness I received the light of giving.
Even in the pain of not receiving, the silence of the night brings me peace.
Every morning begins with a new hope.
You, in silence, mend my broken life.
Even in my mistakes, some hidden good unfolds.
Though I lack much, You fill me with boundless mercy.
Even in darkness, I discover a new light of hope.
O Al-Rauf, like a river You give without end.
Today my heart overflows with quiet gratitude.

— Karam Shah
Leader of Roham’s band in Wolengrad

Chapter One: Shadows of Midnight

For millions of years, countless wars have scarred this world. Yet in the slow turning of time, all things return again to a state of calm. The present Astralind continent is proof of that truth. At its heart lies the city of Joremir. In this age, no sorcerers remain, and the chaos of war has long vanished. People live here in peace, untouched by magic. Those old memories survive only on the brittle pages of history.

But tonight, at the forested edge of Joremir, something is about to stir—something that may shatter this fragile peace.

The sky stretched above like a forgotten book of God, the stars scattered across it like torn letters of an ancient story. Moonlight fell in silver streams through the gaps in the leaves, painting the ground with shifting patterns of light and shadow. The forest itself felt like a long breath held, silent, waiting, yet heavy with menace. Every tree stood as a witness to untold secrets, their trunks shedding the dust of centuries.

Amid this hushed mystery sat a young soldier in uniform. His name was Mun. Nineteen years old, with sharp jawline, deep black eyes, and a tall, well-built frame that made his military dress seem all the more striking. But tonight, restlessness haunted his gaze. Beside him sat Corporal Rajib of the Bajuka Army. Rajib was only a year older, twenty, taller, broader-shouldered, and in his eyes flickered an intelligence that felt far too seasoned for his age.

The boy wondered—why was he here? In this dead of night, in this forest, among the calls of unseen creatures. Somewhere far off, an owl hooted, its cry echoing through the trees. Mun’s heartbeat quickened. He did not know why he had been brought, but every nerve told him that tonight something would happen.

The cruelest kind of captivity is not knowing why you are bound. To ask for reasons? In the army, there are only orders. To feel unease? Yet be unable to voice it. Mun stood in that silence of unspoken fear. His heart begged to question Rajib, but discipline held those words back like chains on his throat. The corporal had dragged him here without explanation. For what? For whom?

In the stillness, it seemed the entire world had halted. Mun could hear nothing but his own breath—and the calm, controlled exhale of Rajib beside him. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth, the green tang of trees, and something else—an unfamiliar, unsettling odor that whispered danger.

Through the moonlight, a six-storied house loomed in the distance. It stood like a haunted fortress in the heart of the jungle. Every window lay drowned in darkness, yet now and then it felt as if shadows shifted behind them. Vines curled thickly along its walls, as though nature itself conspired to hide it from the world. Rajib’s eyes stayed fixed on the house—unyielding, intent. There was no fear in them, only the iron focus of a man long prepared for this moment.

Mun’s thoughts spiraled. How was this possible? Rajib was his peer, only a year older, yet already a corporal. Promotion so swift? Yes, Rajib had always been the most skilled, the sharpest mind at the training camp. But could skill alone bring such rank? Or was there another secret hidden within him?

Mun let out a sigh—louder than he intended, breaking the silence like a crack in glass. And as if the forest itself sought to cut off his thoughts, a branch snapped loose in the wind and fell against his head.

“Ah!” he cried softly, clutching his forehead, his handsome face tightening with pain.

At the sound, Corporal Rajib slowly turned his head. For a heartbeat, his eyes betrayed a flicker of concern. In the moonlight, they looked like two dark lakes—deep, still, and unfathomable....

Mun glanced at Rajib and gave a crooked smile—an uneasy grin where pain and embarrassment mingled. It was the kind of bitter, self-mocking smile that came only when something trivial interrupts a serious moment. Whether Rajib noticed the smile in the darkness was impossible to tell.

After a while, Rajib turned his gaze back to the house. But something in his posture had changed. His shoulders seemed a little looser, as if Mun’s small accident had quietly released some of the tension within him. The fragrance of night flowers floated on the air, and somewhere far away, the soft murmur of a river drifted through the silence. The whole scene created an unreal atmosphere, where dream and reality blurred into one.

And so, in this mysterious night, the two young soldiers waited—for something one of them did not yet fully understand, but both knew was coming.