The wind howled like a living thing outside the orphanage walls.
It clawed at the wooden frames, rattled the windows, screamed through the cracks—
—but Dev felt none of it.
He sat quietly by the small window, his fingers resting against the cold glass, staring at the endless white world beyond.
Snow.
Always snow.
In the Himalayan region, it never stopped.
The other children had grown used to it. They played, laughed, complained—
Then forgot.
No one questioned it.
No one wondered why the land never changed.
But Dev… always did.
There was something wrong.
Not with the snow.
With him.
He pressed a hand against his chest.
Silence answered.
Not the silence of peace—
But the silence of something… missing.
Empty.
Twelve years.
That's how long he had existed.
And yet—
He remembered nothing before that.
No parents.
No home.
No voice calling his name.
Only one memory remained—
A blurred moment.
A dark room.
A question.
"Do you remember anything?"
He had tried to speak.
His throat had felt dry. His mind… blank.
And yet, somehow—
Two words came out.
"I… Dev."
That was all.
And so—
That became his name.
The other children called him strange.
Not because he was quiet.
But because he didn't react.
When they laughed—he watched.
When they cried—he listened.
When they fought—he walked away.
It wasn't that he didn't feel anything.
It was worse.
He didn't understand what he was supposed to feel.
Dev's gaze drifted back to the snow.
For a moment—
Just a moment—
He felt something.
A pull.
Soft.
Distant.
Like a whisper carried by the wind.
Calling him.
Not outward—
But inward.
Like something deep inside him was trying to reach the surface.
He frowned slightly.
"…What is that?"
The feeling disappeared instantly.
Leaving behind the same emptiness.
"Dev!"
The voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
He turned.
The caretaker stood at the door.
"Come to the hall. We have a guest."
Dev blinked once, then nodded.
"Okay."
The orphanage hall was louder than usual.
Children whispered among themselves, eyes wide with curiosity.
At the center of the room stood a man.
Tall.
Calm.
Wrapped in simple robes that seemed untouched by the cold.
But it wasn't his appearance that drew attention—
It was his presence.
The room felt… different around him.
Still.
Heavy.
As if even the air had chosen to remain silent.
Dev stopped at the entrance.
Something inside him shifted.
That same feeling from before—
But stronger.
The man turned.
Their eyes met.
And for the first time—
Dev felt seen.
Not as a child.
Not as an orphan.
But as something… unfinished.
The caretaker approached nervously.
"Sir, these are all the children—"
The man raised a hand gently.
"I know."
His gaze never left Dev.
Then—
He walked forward.
Step by step.
Until he stood right in front of him.
Up close, his eyes were… different.
Not sharp.
Not soft.
Ancient.
"You," the man said quietly.
"Come with me."
Dev didn't move.
"Why?" he asked.
"I don't have anything."
A pause.
"I don't even know who I am."
For a moment—
Nothing happened.
Then the man smiled faintly.
"That is exactly why you must come."
The room fell silent.
All eyes were on them.
The man slowly raised his hand—
—and placed it just above Dev's heart.
Not touching.
Just… hovering.
Dev felt it instantly.
Warmth.
Faint.
Fragile.
Like a dying ember buried deep within him.
The man's expression changed.
Just slightly.
His breath stilled.
"Your spiritual energy…" he murmured.
"So faint…"
The warmth flickered.
Weak.
Unstable.
Almost nonexistent.
The caretaker looked worried. "Is… is something wrong?"
The man didn't answer immediately.
His eyes deepened.
As if looking beyond the surface.
Beyond the body.
Beyond the boy.
Then—
"…But pure."
The word lingered.
Heavy.
Impossible.
Dev felt it then.
For the first time in his life—
Something real.
Not confusion.
Not emptiness.
But presence.
The warmth inside him pulsed once.
Slow.
Weak.
Alive.
His fingers trembled slightly.
"What… is this?" he whispered.
The man lowered his hand.
"Something that has been waiting," he said softly.
"For a very long time."
The caretaker hesitated. "Sir… you mean—?"
The man nodded once.
"He will come with me."
Dev looked at him.
"To where?"
The man turned toward the door.
"To a place where your answers are waiting."
A pause.
"The Himalaya Academy."
The name spread through the room like a shockwave.
Whispers erupted.
"That academy?"
"The one that trains warriors?"
"Only chosen people go there…"
Dev didn't react to the whispers.
His eyes remained on the man.
"…Will I remember?" he asked quietly.
The man stopped at the doorway.
For the first time—
His expression carried weight.
"I don't know," he said.
"But I do know this—"
He looked back at Dev.
"If you stay here… you never will."
Silence.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
Dev lowered his gaze.
To his hands.
Empty.
Just like always.
Then slowly—
He closed them.
"…Okay," he said.
"I'll come."
That night—
The snow continued to fall.
Unchanging.
Endless.
But something had shifted.
As Dev stood outside the orphanage one last time, he looked back.
At the walls.
At the window.
At the life he never truly understood.
No sadness.
No attachment.
Only one question remained—
Who was I… before this?
And far beyond the mountains—
Far beyond the reach of human sight—
Something stirred.
Ancient.
Silent.
Watching.