The Forest of Vanishing Scholars"
The forest near Jagadal Vihara was dense, ancient, and eerily silent. Ardhu and Mina slipped through tangled roots and towering sal trees as sunlight broke into scattered gold. Every rustle made Ardhu flinch; every shadow felt like an enemy watching.
Hours passed before they finally found it — a hidden clearing lit by oil lamps. Dozens of monks, scholars, and guards gathered around a stone platform. Maps lay unrolled, scrolls piled high, and tired faces whispered plans. This was the Hidden Circle of Scholars, the last refuge of knowledge in a world turning to chaos.
An elderly monk named Acharya Devapala stepped forward, his gaze fixed on Ardhu's satchel.
"Young one," he said, "you carry the Chronicle of Somapura — the heart of Bengal's wisdom. Without it, our golden age ends."
Ardhu swallowed hard, handing the scrolls to him. A tremor of relief passed through the circle… but it didn't last.
A horn echoed across the forest. Birds scattered. Leaves shook.
Mina drew a sharp breath. "They've tracked us."
Warriors emerged from the trees—armored men bearing the emblem of a rising western warlord. They surrounded the clearing, forcing the scholars back. Devapala clutched the Chronicle, whispering prayers.
Ardhu felt panic choke him, but Mina grabbed his shoulder.
"You're not just a messenger anymore. You're part of this fight."
One of the warriors leaped forward, seizing a monk. Ardhu reacted without thinking—throwing a clay shard he had carried from home. It struck the warrior's hand, breaking his grip. A small act, but it broke the enemy's rhythm, giving the Circle a chance to scatter.
"Protect the Chronicle!" Devapala shouted.
As smoke bombs ignited and the forest filled with chaos, Ardhu and Mina fled deeper into the wilderness, the chronicle safeguarded once more.
But the truth was clear:
The war for Bengal's future had only begun.