All 17 years of his life—
Feroz had survived.
But every year—
Came with a new challenge.
And through those years—
He had learned one thing.
Survival…
Was nothing but hardship.
And struggle.
After everything he had seen—
Everything he had been through—
There was nothing in this world he feared.
Nothing—
Except one thing.
A dream.
A dream he had seen again and again.
The same one.
Every time.
And no matter how many times it came—
The fear never faded.
He never understood it.
Why the same dream?
Why the same fear?
And now—
As he slept—
The dream returned.
A man sat beside a grave.
Laughing.
Loudly.
Unnaturally.
Feroz stood at a distance.
Afraid—
But not frozen.
He gathered courage.
Step by step—
He walked closer.
"Why are you sitting here… and laughing like this?" Feroz asked.
The man turned.
Looked at him.
Smiled.
"The Devil…" he said slowly,
"…is going to wake up soon."
Then—
He looked toward the grave.
Fear gripped Feroz instantly.
Stronger than before.
Deeper.
He followed the man's gaze—
Toward the grave.
And in that moment—
Something inside him broke.
He screamed.
Loudly.
And everything—
Disappeared.
Feroz woke up suddenly.
Breathing heavily.
"Again…"
He whispered.
"Why do I keep seeing the same dream…?"
"…of a devil waking up?"
No answer came.
He looked around.
It was midnight.
And now—
The pain in his wounded foot—
Was unbearable.
He clenched his jaw.
Forced himself to move.
"I need medicine…"
Slowly—
With effort—
He stood up.
Step by step—
He began walking toward the street.
But the moment he stepped forward—
Something changed.
Footsteps.
Behind him.
Feroz froze for a second.
Then—
Without turning back—
He ran.
Fast.
Desperate.
The footsteps followed.
Closer.
Closer.
He didn't look back.
Didn't stop.
Couldn't.
All he could do—
Was run.
And he kept running…