"Maasa!! Baba!!" screamed a 9-year-old boy, staring at his burning home.
"Jiji!! Dadi!!" he cried, falling to his knees. He wanted to run and save them, but what could a 9-year-old do?
His body was covered in several injuries, but none of them hurt as much as the wound in his heart. He longed to go closer to the house, but he couldn't — dangerous men were pouring more gasoline into the fire, and even at his age, he was smart enough to know they were enemies.
Soon, those men started moving toward their car. The boy quickly hid himself in the tall grass.
"Yes! Kuwarsa, the work is done," one of the men said over the phone.
The boy's face turned pale in confusion. Kuwarsa? But before he could process it, his eyes widened at the next words.
"Yes! You don't worry... Abhiraj ji—" the man began, but at that exact moment, the boy froze in shock at the name. His body stiffened.
And then—clink!—the small ball in his pocket slipped out, hitting the ground with a sharp noise.
"Who's there!!" one of the men shouted, spinning around.
Terrified, the boy bolted toward the jungle, running as fast as his weak body allowed. He didn't look back. He ran for nearly thirty minutes, exhausted, until his foot slipped. His head slammed against a stone.
"Ahhh!!" the little boy screamed in pain. "Maaa!! Baba!!"
Tears mixed with blood as his vision blurred. Just before losing consciousness, he whispered faintly:
"I... I wi...ll dest...ro...y you..."
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