Darkness hummed softly, like the world was asleep but dreaming.
For a moment, there was no sound just that quiet hum, as if time itself held its breath.
Then came the faintest whisper — a breeze, brushing across his cheek.
Sahil's fingers twitched.
His heartbeat echoed in his ears, slow… uncertain.
He gasped sharply the kind of gasp that comes after drowning and his eyes opened.
Light flooded in, blinding at first. The ceiling above him wasn't broken, no smoke, no ruins just wooden beams, old but warm.
The smell of earth and sunlight. The sound of birds outside.
He sat up suddenly. His breath was shaky.
For a split second, the image of Harun's violet eyes flashed before him the scythe, the scream, the collapse of the city and then… gone.
He touched his chest instinctively. No wound. No blood.
"...What… what the hell…" his voice trembled. "Was that… a dream?"
He looked around.
It was his room small, messy, familiar. The walls were painted in faded brown, the window half open, letting the morning wind roll through. Outside, sunlight poured over the green fields of Elyndor Village.
No ruins. No darkness. Just… life.
Sahil swung his legs off the bed. His feet hit the cold floor.
His head throbbed memories overlapping, flashes of battle and screams fading into laughter and childhood voices.
"Harun…" he whispered. "You were there…"
He blinked hard, trying to shake the thought off.
"This is crazy. It was just a nightmare. Yeah… just a stupid dream."
But deep down something felt wrong.
The dream had been too real. He could still feel the weight of that scythe, the heat of the burning air, the sound of his own dying breath.
He ran a hand through his messy hair and sighed.
"Why does it feel like… I've lived this before?"
A sudden voice broke the silence cheerful, familiar, grounding.
"Still sleeping, idiot? It's already past sunrise!"
Sahil froze. That voice he'd know it anywhere.
He turned toward the door.
And there he was.
Harun.
Smiling like nothing had ever gone wrong. No mist, no glowing eyes just his best friend, standing there with that same warmth that could calm storms.
His brown hair caught the sunlight, and his eyes bright, golden-brown were full of mischief.
"Harun…?" Sahil whispered, half scared, half relieved.
Harun raised a brow. "What's with that look? You saw a ghost or something?"
Sahil stared at him, words stuck in his throat.
He wanted to say You killed me once.
He wanted to ask Where are we? What's happening?
But all that came out was a shaky laugh.
"You… you're late again," Sahil managed to say, forcing a smirk.
Harun grinned. "Excuse me? I've been waiting outside your house for ten minutes! Your mom almost gave me chores to do!"
Sahil chuckled a small, awkward sound, but real. For the first time since waking up, the world felt… safe.
Harun crossed his arms. "C'mon, lazyhead. Grandpa said we need to meet him today. Something important about the Dravillian Scantum ."
The name hit Sahil like thunder.
He froze. "The… Dravillian Shaft?"
Harun nodded casually. "Yeah. It's opening again. You forgot already?"
Sahil's throat went dry.
He remembered that name from somewhere deep in that dream. From before everything burned.
He forced a smile. "Right… yeah. I just… didn't sleep well."
Harun tilted his head. "Nightmares again?"
"Something like that."
For a moment, neither spoke. The wind rustled through the window, carrying the faint scent of flowers and morning dew.
Sahil looked at Harun alive, smiling, pure.
And a thought whispered in his mind:
If this is a dream… I don't want to wake up.
The two of them walked along the dirt path that led through the center of Elyndor Village. Morning light bathed everything in gold rooftops glimmered, the air smelled faintly of wet soil, and the sound of wooden carts creaked softly in rhythm with the wind.
Harun walked ahead, hands folded behind his head, whistling a soft tune. Sahil followed, quiet, lost in thought.
"Oi, why so serious?" Harun glanced back. "You look like someone told you your breakfast's been cancelled."
Sahil smiled faintly. "Just… thinking."
"About your dreams again?"
"Yeah," Sahil muttered. "They felt so… real this time. Like I wasn't dreaming at all."
Harun shrugged, his expression turning soft. "Maybe the dreams are trying to tell you something. Grandpa always says....'when the wind repeats a sound, listen. It's not an echo, it's a message.'"
Sahil chuckled. "Sounds like something he'd say."
As they passed through the village, elders waved at them children ran across the fields with kites that glowed faintly in the sunlight. The world felt peaceful. Too peaceful. Almost like the calm before something immense.
The path ended near a hill at its top stood Grandmaster Ilyar, Harun's grandfather. His silver hair moved with the wind like threads of smoke. The old man's eyes were sharp clear blue, yet carrying the weight of centuries.
"You're late," he said softly as they approached, but there was no anger just that knowing smile.
"Blame him!" Harun pointed at Sahil. "He woke up late again."
Sahil rubbed his neck awkwardly. "Sorry, Grandpa Ilyar."
The old man nodded slowly. "No need for apologies, child. Perhaps destiny wanted you to arrive now when the wind stands still."
Sahil frowned. "The wind… stands still?"
Ilyar looked at the sky. The air had grown oddly heavy birds were silent, and the golden light dimmed as if clouds hid behind invisible curtains.
"It's begun," Ilyar murmured. "The Bhramm Cycle."
Both boys froze.
Harun's smile faded. "You mean… it's real? The Bhramm Test actually exists?"
The old man's voice lowered, his tone ancient like the whisper of history itself.
"The Bhramm Test is not merely real… it is the very breath that separates illusion from truth. It chooses those who carry the wind's memory the ones who can see the world as it truly is."
Sahil felt his heartbeat spike. "But… why us?"
Ilyar turned toward him slowly. "Because, child, both of you are tied to the same thread. The one that once broke… and now seeks to mend."
Harun exchanged a confused glance with Sahil. "We don't understand."
"You will." The old man raised his hand toward the horizon. "At dusk, the Dravillian Scantum will open once more. When it does, the chosen winds will gather those with hearts unclouded shall face the Bhramm. Pass it… and you will awaken what sleeps within you."
"The Bhramm…" Sahil whispered. "What happens if we fail?"
Ilyar's gaze softened but the silence said enough.
Only the wind answered, blowing gently through the grass.
After a long moment, Harun grinned, trying to break the tension. "Guess that means we're in for an adventure, huh?"
Sahil smiled faintly, though his chest tightened. Somewhere deep within, he could still feel the echo of his dream. Harun's shadowed figure, that glowing scythe, the scream.
He looked at Harun his best friend, smiling at the storm ahead.
And quietly, a thought passed through his mind
What if this time… I lose him again?
The cave swallowed sound.
Only their footsteps echoed soft, uncertain, as Harun and Sahil stepped deeper into the glowing heart of the Dravillian Shaft.
Symbols along the walls pulsed with pale light, humming like heartbeats buried in stone. Every step forward felt heavier… quieter.
Harun glanced at Sahil. "You okay?"
Sahil nodded, though his throat felt dry. "Yeah… just a little"
Before he could finish, the floor beneath him shifted.
A flash of white light blinded him. His body felt weightless for a moment then silence.
When he opened his eyes, Harun was gone.
The tunnel was gone.
He stood in the middle of a shattered courtyard. The sky above him was gray heavy and low, like it was about to collapse. Cracked pillars surrounded him, and the ground was littered with broken stones.
And then he heard it a faint cry.
High-pitched. Fragile.
A child's voice.
Sahil froze. "Hello?"
The crying grew louder. He ran toward it, his heart pounding.
Behind a broken wall, he saw him a small boy, barely seven, pinned under a pile of debris.
His legs were trapped. His little hands trembled as he tried to push the stones away.
"Hey! I'm here, don't move!" Sahil shouted, rushing forward.
He dropped to his knees, grabbing the largest chunk of stone. It was cold, heavier than it looked.
He pushed nothing.
He tried again harder his arms shaking.
The rock didn't budge.
The boy whimpered, voice shaking. "It… hurts…"
Sahil's breath hitched. "I know, I know, just. just hold on!"
He pushed again, knuckles bleeding, sweat falling into his eyes. His arms trembled, but the stone felt like it was part of the earth itself unmovable.
"Come on!" he gasped. "Please move!"
The wind stirred faintly around his hands light, uncertain but too weak to help.
He pressed harder, until his vision blurred, until his whole body screamed in pain.
The boy's cry cracked again. "It hurts…"
Sahil's eyes filled with tears. "I know," he whispered, voice breaking.
"I know it hurts, just… please, God"
He pushed once more, his hands slipping, the stones refusing to move.
Blood ran down his wrist. The child's hand reached out tiny, trembling and gripped his sleeve weakly.
"Don't… leave me…"
Sahil froze.
His whole body went still.
"I'm not… I'm not leaving," he said, his voice barely more than a breath.
"Please, God… not like this…"
The boy's fingers slowly loosened.
His breathing softened then stopped.
Sahil's world went silent.
Completely silent.
He stared at the small still hand eyes wide, shaking, unable to breathe.
The wind stopped moving. Even the air forgot how to sound.
His lips parted. No voice came out just a broken whisper:
"…no…"
He looked up sky trembling, everything fading into white light
and then