The morning sun should've felt like a blessing. But today, it brought no warmth.
Karunik stepped out of the chief's house, his armor polished, posture confident — as if nothing had happened the night before. His expression was calm, almost amused.
"Hai, friends. What's all the commotion about?" he asked, his voice smooth and unbothered.
Villagers gathered slowly. Whispering. The air grew heavy with tension. Something felt wrong.
Priya didn't come out. Her absence was noticed.
Whispers turned into murmurs. The villagers shuffled closer together, eyes flicking between the chief's house and Karunik's silver armor.
Someone muttered, "Where is Priya? She never misses the morning prayers…"
Another whispered, "She's hurt. I saw her limping last night. She didn't come home."
Even the children sensed something was wrong. A little boy clutched his mother's scarf. "Is the knight going to hurt us?" he asked.
"Hush, son," she said, pulling him closer. But her voice trembled.
