The sun had barely pierced the cold dawn when Meera awoke to the sharp scent of rain-washed earth and distant thunder. The air in the small room felt heavier than usual, like the storm wasn't just outside, but raging inside her chest.

Raunak sat cross-legged on the floor, his eyes closed, fingers weaving silent prayers. Veer leaned against the wall, sharpening his dagger with the precision of a man who knew every scratch meant life or death.