Night draped the forest like a velvet curtain. Shadows pooled between the twisted roots, and the faint crackle of Pramit's small fire sent sparks dancing upward, vanishing into the dark. The world beyond the firelight seemed endless, silent, and watchful.
Pramit leaned back against a gnarled tree, muscles aching from the day's cautious wanderings. His stomach grumbled insistently, and he let out a lazy sigh, fishing into his satchel for one of the strange fruits he had picked earlier.
The fruit pulsed faintly in his hand, its surface glowing like a trapped ember. He turned it over, hesitating, muttering to himself, "Huh… weird. But food's food, I guess." Hunger won. He bit into it.
The sweetness hit his tongue… and then reality fractured.
Pain ripped through him with such intensity that the firelight wavered in his vision. His chest tightened, muscles convulsed, and every nerve screamed as though the world itself were crushing him. He dropped the fruit.
"Am… I dying… again?" he whispered, voice trembling between disbelief and terror. The words sounded strange even to him, as if part of his mind still hadn't accepted this second life.
He fell forward onto the mossy ground, the fire's glow smearing into dancing shadows. The forest whispered around him — leaves rustling, distant cries of unseen creatures — but none of it reached him.
Every heartbeat felt like a hammer, every breath a battle. And then, slowly, the world slipped away.
The fire continued to crackle, indifferent. The forest stood silent.Pramit Chakma — alone, tired, and bewildered — sank into darkness, the stars overhead bearing witness to his first true trial in this new world.