---
The ruins no longer slept.
Smoke from cooking fires curled into the sky. Laughter echoed in the training grounds. The once-dead academy… was alive again.
Not with soldiers.
But with villagers.
---
They came from nearby hills, old farms, and burnt towns.
Some were young boys who had lost their fathers.
Some were women who had carried blades since the war began.
Some were old hunters who had seen enough blood to know: peace would not protect them anymore.
And all of them came with one question—
"Can I become stronger?"
---
Parashu watched as they trained beside him.
They weren't skilled. Most couldn't even hold a sword straight. But their eyes burned with something fierce.
The will to never feel helpless again.
Master Vishma gave them no mercy.
"Just because you are villagers, does not mean you are weak," he shouted. "The strongest warriors are not born from palaces. They rise from fire."
And so they trained.
Together.
Sweat and soil became their armor. Their pain became their prayer.
---
One night, a young girl named Liti sat beside Parashu. Her hands were blistered. Her eyes were tired.
"My brother died fighting the Kara," she whispered. "I want to take his place. Do you think I can?"
Parashu looked at her.
She reminded him of himself—broken, but burning inside.
"You already have," he said softly.
---
Weeks passed.
The academy wasn't just a building now. It was a movement.
The villagers weren't just trainees. They were warriors in the making—the Ash-Born.
Named after what they rose from.
Named after what they swore to never become again.
---
But far away… in the shadows of the mountains…
…Jalandhara had heard of the academy's return.
And he was not pleased.
But the happy days are about to turn bitter. Because the Kara army will infiltrate them and leak all the information.
---
The Kara army started that training with them.