Life had begun to improve for Mirshad and his family. His father, after enduring a period of financial struggle, launched a small business. To everyone's surprise, the business flourished swiftly. His father's warm personality and genuine connections helped him rise faster than anyone had anticipated. Known for his kindness and integrity, he never made enemies, and his good deeds were now returning to him in the form of success. With this newfound prosperity, he purchased a small plot of land and built a modest house for the family. It wasn't large, but it was theirs—a symbol of their father's hard work and determination.
Mirshad, however, found himself struggling to find joy in school. What was once a place of excitement and learning had become a source of stress and boredom. The pressures of exams and the relentless routine weighed heavily on him. His closest friend, Arun, had moved away to live with his mother, leaving Mirshad feeling a profound sense of loss. Although his other friends remained, Mirshad's enthusiasm for school waned. He attended classes more for the companionship than for education, feeling trapped by the monotonous cycle of studying. At only 12 years old, something within him was beginning to shift—a subtle change he couldn't quite comprehend.
One weekend, when the family was set to attend a gathering at his mother's family home, Mirshad fell ill. His fever was severe, and his body felt weak and achy. His mother, torn between the family event and her son's illness, wanted to stay, but his father insisted, "Go ahead. I'll take care of him. He'll be fine by the time you return."
Reluctantly, his mother left with a heavy heart, while his father stayed behind to care for Mirshad. For the next few days, Mirshad's condition worsened. He barely ate, his body ached, and his mind felt clouded. His father did everything he could—feeding him, giving him medicine, and sitting by his side. But on one particularly stormy evening, something unusual happened.
As the rain pounded against the windows and thunder rumbled in the distance, Mirshad lay shivering in his bed. The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing on the walls from the flickering candlelight. His father entered the room, carrying a tray with a warm meal. He approached quietly, trying not to startle his son further.
"Here you go, Mirshad. Eat something," his father whispered, placing the tray on the bedside table.
Mirshad glanced up, his eyes glazed and unfocused. "I'm hungry, Papa," he murmured weakly, reaching out a trembling hand.
As his father bent down to help him eat, Mirshad's behavior suddenly changed. His eyes darted around the room, filled with fear and confusion. His breathing grew rapid, and his body tensed up unnaturally. It was as if he was no longer in control of himself.
"Mirshad, what's wrong?" his father asked, concern etched on his face.
Before his father could respond, Mirshad pushed him away with an unexpected force. His father stumbled backward, hitting the wall and falling to the floor with a loud thud. The suddenness of the push sent a chill down Mirshad's spine.
"What was that?" his father groaned, slowly getting back to his feet. He looked at Mirshad, bewildered and alarmed.
Mirshad blinked rapidly, trying to process what had just happened. "I... I thought someone was coming to hurt me," he stammered, tears welling up in his eyes. "I couldn't see clearly... my eyes were blurry."
His father knelt beside him, gently lifting Mirshad into his arms. "It's okay, son. You're sick. It's just the fever messing with your mind," he reassured him, though uncertainty flickered in his own eyes.
As he held Mirshad, his father noticed something strange—a thick, red vein pulsating visibly along Mirshad's arm, almost glowing under his skin. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. His heart raced as he tried to make sense of the anomaly, but he chose not to mention it, not wanting to frighten Mirshad further.
Mirshad clung to his father, his small body shaking with sobs. "I'm sorry, Papa. I didn't mean to push you. I was scared."
His father stroked Mirshad's hair soothingly. "Shh, it's alright. You're safe now. Just rest."
But as the night deepened and the storm outside raged on, an uneasy feeling settled in the room. Mirshad couldn't shake the image of his own powerful push, the glowing vein, and the unsettling change within himself. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing with unanswered questions.
Meanwhile, his father stood by the window, watching the storm clouds roll by, his thoughts consumed by worry. What was happening to his son? The mysterious vein and the unexpected strength—could it be something beyond his understanding? He vowed to protect Mirshad, whatever challenges lay ahead, but the uncertainty gnawed at him.
As dawn approached, the storm began to subside, leaving behind a lingering tension. Mirshad finally drifted into a restless sleep, the echoes of the night's events haunting his dreams. Little did he know, this was just the beginning of uncovering the hidden strengths that lay dormant within him, setting the stage for the extraordinary journey that awaited.