Scene 1: Pre-Dawn --On the broken Ridge
[Morning | Outside Ishan's house]...
The morning fog coiled through Shitrantar like a half-forgotten prayer, softening the edges of its snow-blanketed rooftops. Frost clung to the edges of wooden beams, glassless windows, and the stone-baked granary, aging them beyond their years. Even the fire pits had surrendered to the long chill of the season. Nothing moved except the mist.
Mani sat on the low ledge outside Ishan's house, his small frame half-lost in the oversized woolen coat wrapped tightly around him. He blended easily into the frozen world his blue eyes the only color that seemed untouched by the gray morning. They were not searching. They were listening. Past the rooftops. Beyond the trees.
Snowflakes landed softly against his scarf, which had swallowed most of his face. His breath fogged lightly around it. He didn't blink.
A crunch in the snow signaled the approach of someone else soft, dragging, irregular.
Veer's figure appeared like a tear in the fog swaying, wrapped in a cloak of stitched hides and torn memory. His steps were wide but careful, as though his body struggled against the world's rhythm. He muttered softly as he came, eyes flickering with something wild and unknowable.
When he reached the ledge, he paused not beside Mani, but not apart from him either. His mouth moved with the ghost of a song.
Veer (singing, fragmented):
"Stone hums in quiet hands... hums for those who break before they burn..."
Mani didn't respond. He didn't even glance. Still, there was no tension in his body. Only stillness.
Veer's tone shifted, slipping briefly into clarity.
Veer (more lucid, looking at him):
"You'll hold it today, won't you?"
Mani gave a slow nod, like snow slipping from a branch.
Veer:
"Saaran Shard, they call it. Cracked things for cracked truths. I held one once... it didn't sing. Not for me. Not then."
This time, Mani turned to him not fully, but enough to show uncertainty beneath the quiet.
Mani:
"...Will it sing for me?"
Veer (quietly, almost sadly):
"If it does, Run before anyone hears."
The air around them seemed to still. The woods exhaled frost from their depths. Mani lowered his eyes.
Mani:
"No one ever hears."
A beat. Veer's gaze sharpened, cutting through the veil of madness. For a breath, something deeper looked out from him something wounded but wide awake.
Veer:
"But I do."
The words hung in the air like the last note of a forgotten lullaby.
Then his shoulders drooped. The weight returned. Veer blinked once, twice then turned from Mani and began to shuffle toward the tree line, muttering again.
Veer (to the air):
"Don't chase the shard if you don't know the echo."
He disappeared into the mist with a lingering shadow, his voice trailing behind like an echo in a hollow cave.
---
Scene 2: The Saaran Shard Ritual
[Midday | Centre Square]...
By midday, the villagers gathered near the central square, packed beneath a canopy of frost-laced banners. Parents stood to the sides, eyes proud, some teary. The children, each five years old, waited quietly in a line near the platform.
Atop the raised stone dais stood Elder Vekran, flanked by two attendants. Before him rested a weathered wooden chest filled with ancient relics: the Saaran Shards. Oval-shaped, smooth, each bearing faded runic markings.
Vekran (clearly):
"The Saaran Shard reflects not skill, not strength, but the stirring of something deeper. Hold it. Listen. And release it."
Each child stepped forward in turn, took a shard, held it in their palms, waited and let it fall.
The shard never changed.
One by one, laughter and applause followed. It was tradition more than truth now. A rite, not a revelation.
Then
"Mani."
He walked slowly, scarf tight, eyes low. No one clapped.
He took a shard from the box. Cold. Heavy. Familiar.
For a moment: nothing.
Then a faint pulse. A shimmer only he could feel. It buzzed softly in his palm. Once. Then again.
His eyes widened.
Startled, he flung it to the snow.
No one seemed to notice. The crowd buzzed on, unaware.
Except two.
From the sidelines, Niren watched. His brows lifted for a second. A flicker of curiosity crossed his face but quickly faded. He said nothing.
And behind the crowd, far from the others, Veer stood still, cloak fluttering. He said no word. But he smiled the kind of smile worn before a storm breaks.
The ritual continued.
The shard lay silent again.
But something had been answered.
---
Scene 3: The Stirring of Silence
[Evening | Central square]...
The square slowly emptied, footsteps crunching over hard snow as villagers pulled children close, congratulated each other, and dispersed back into the warmth of their homes. The Saaran Shards were quietly returned to their wooden chest cold, unmoved, harmless.
Except for one.
The one that had trembled. The one no one saw but Veer did.
He remained near the treeline, watching like a wolf who had forgotten what it meant to be human.
As the last children left, Niren approached from the opposite side. The hunting squad captain's eyes were sharp, always too sharp, like they'd seen more than they ever said.
He didn't greet Veer. Just stopped beside him.
After a few moments, Ishan arrived too, breath misting the air, his tower-duty scarf still looped around his shoulders.
A silence passed between the three brothers once, though now scattered across different edges of the same memory.
Niren (without turning):
"You saw it too, didn't you?"
Ishan (confused):
"Saw what?"
Veer (softly, as if to the wind):
"The shard moved. Twice."
Ishan blinked, glancing between them.
Ishan:
"Wait... you're not saying Mani"
Niren (cutting in):
"It could have been the cold. Or nerves. Kids fumble."
Veer (stern, a rare clarity in his voice):
"Not a fumble. He reacted. It reacted. The shard recognized something."
Niren scoffed, just once.
Niren:
"Even if it did, so what? Those shards are cracked. Old as myth. Nobody even remembers why they hum."
Veer tilted his head toward the child, who was now walking alone through the thinning snow, blue eyes half-lost in thought.
Veer (low):
"I remember the hum. I just didn't listen in time."
Ishan glanced sideways. His voice was quiet, protective.
Ishan:
"You think it's starting again?"
Veer didn't answer. Instead, he whispered to himself in fragments, a whisper both of warning and mourning:
Veer:
"If the shard hums before the storm... you shield the child. Not the village."
Niren (tensing):
"That's dangerous talk."
Veer (smiling faintly):
"Danger doesn't wait for your permission, Niren."
A breeze swept over them, and for a moment, all three stood together in the hush.
Veer's madness flickered at the edge of his stare but deep beneath, something had stirred. Something ancient. Something he once touched in the cold heart of the forest… and lost.
Ishan:
"What do we do now?"
Veer finally turned, his cloak whispering behind him.
Veer:
"You wait. You watch."
And then, without another word, the madman walked away, leaving behind two men one uncertain, one unwilling to believe and a trail of snow that wouldn't melt.
—
Chapter 3 Ends here…