SCENE: ENTERING ABDUL SATTAR EDHI ORPHANAGE

Hamza steps through the Abdul Sattar Edhi Orphanage gates, the familiar sound of children's laughter filling the air. At sixteen, he stands tall at six feet, with a lean, athletic build. His striking blue eyes reflect a quiet intensity, framed by his slightly long black hair, which falls just above his nose. Despite his calm demeanor, there’s an undeniable energy about him, a handsome yet unassuming young man who carries the weight of his past with grace.

He smiles warmly as the little ones rush toward him tugging at his sleeves, their faces lit up with excitement.

Child 1 (giggling):

"Bhai, Bhai! What did you bring for us today?"

Child 2 (jumping up and down):

"Is it more chocolates? Please tell me its chocolates!"

Hamza chuckles and kneels down, pulling out a large packet of chocolates from his bag. The children’s eyes widen as he hands them out.

Hamza (smiling):

"Here you go, but remember what I told you last time... Don’t finish them all simultaneously."

Child 1 (grinning):

"I’ll save some for later, I promise!"

Child 3 (cheekily):

"No, you won’t! You ate all yours last time!"

The children laugh, and Hamza joins in. He pats the top of Child 3's head and winks.

Hamza (teasingly):

"Well, maybe this time he'll save one or two. Right?"

They all nod, beaming, and rush off to enjoy their treats. As Hamza watches them go, his hand unconsciously moves to his chest, where the locket lies under his shirt. The cool iron chain presses against his skin, and he touches the red crystal pendant, lost in thought for a moment.

Hamza’s Thoughts (Internal Monologue):

"This locket... It's all I have left of them. My parents, whoever they were. Marth, written in Arabic... What does it mean? Why do I feel like this isn’t just a name?"

Hamza is interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. Mr. Akram, the manager of the orphanage, walks over with a gentle smile. His white beard, neatly trimmed, reflects his kind demeanor.

Mr. Akram (warmly):

"Hamza, you never forget to make these kids' day, do you?"

Hamza (humbly):

"They deserve it, Mr. Akram. They remind me of myself when I was their age."

Mr. Akram (nodding thoughtfully):

"You’ve grown into such a fine young man, Hamza. Every time I see you with these children, I’m reminded of how much potential you have. Not just with your hands, but with your heart."

Hamza (smiling, slightly embarrassed):

"Thank you, sir. I just... I want them to have hope, like you gave me."

Mr. Akram (patting Hamza’s shoulder):

"You’ve done more than that. You’ve become an inspiration for them. Now, don’t you have work waiting for you at the carpenter’s shop?"

Hamza (nodding):

"Yes, Ustad Imran is expecting me. I’ll head over now."

Mr. Akram (joking):

"Don’t let him work you too hard. You’ve got a trip to Murree tomorrow, right? I heard your college is going on a little adventure."

Hamza (laughing):

"Yes, we are. I’ll be back by evening today, Insha’Allah."

Mr. Akram (smiling):

"Good. Go on, then. But don’t forget us little folks when you become a famous carpenter one day."

Hamza (playfully):

"Famous? That’s a bit much, but I’ll never forget this place, Mr. Akram. You can count on that."

Hamza gives Mr. Akram a respectful nod and turns toward the carpenter’s shop, the sounds of the children’s laughter fading as he walks through the busy streets of Lahore.

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SCENE 2: THE CARPENTER'S WORKSHOP

After leaving the orphanage, Hamza makes his way through the narrow, bustling streets of Lahore. Vendors shout their deals, children chase each other, and the smell of freshly baked bread fills the air. The small carpenter’s workshop, a familiar destination, stands just ahead.

Hamza’s Thoughts (Internal Monologue):

"This city... every street is like a battlefield, where people carve out their lives. And me? I carve wood. But each strike of the chisel feels like wielding a sword, creating something from nothing."

He steps into the workshop, the familiar scent of wood and varnish welcoming him. The tools are neatly arranged, and Ustad Imran, the elderly carpenter, sits by a wooden table, his hands still steady despite his age. His silver hair shines under the dim light, and his eyes, though aged, reflect a sharp mind.

Ustad Imran (with a warm smile):

"Right on time, Hamza. Always dependable."

(Gestures to a half-broken table)

"There's a table that’s seen better days. I trust you can bring it back to life?"

Hamza (smiling, nodding):

"Of course, Ustad. Let’s see what we can do."

Hamza gets to work, his hands moving with precision, the sound of the chisel tapping against the wood filling the shop. As he works, Ustad Imran observes him quietly, his expression thoughtful.

Ustad Imran (after a pause, stroking his beard):

"You know, Hamza... carpentry isn’t so different from sword fighting."

Hamza (looking up, curious):

"How so, Ustad?"

Ustad Imran (smiling):

"In both crafts, it's about control, precision, and patience. A sword can shape a battlefield, just like a chisel shapes wood. But it's the hand behind it that matters. Without discipline, without a purpose, neither tool is worth much."

Hamza absorbs the wisdom, nodding slowly. His eyes briefly drift to the locket under his shirt.

Hamza (thoughtfully):

"I've always felt that... like every strike is part of something bigger. Like I'm preparing for something more than just making tables and chairs."

Ustad Imran (chuckling):

"Maybe one day, you’ll find yourself on a battlefield. But remember, even there, it’s not the sword that wins the fight. It’s the mind wielding it."

The words resonate deeply with Hamza, sparking thoughts of the stories he's read, of battles long past, and of the great Muslim warriors who fought valiantly. Ustad Imran’s wisdom mirrors what Hamza feels in his heart—a connection between the craft he practices and the dreams of swords, battles, and destiny that constantly fill his mind.

As the sun begins to set, casting an orange hue over the city, Hamza finishes his work, admiring the repaired table. Ustad Imran pats his shoulder, his hand firm despite the years.

Ustad Imran (with a knowing smile):

"Well done, lad. One day, you'll carve out your destiny, just as skilfully."

Hamza smiles, his mind racing with thoughts of the future, of battles yet to be fought, and of the mysterious locket that hangs from his neck.

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 Scene 3: Hamza’s Dream – The Introduction of Prince Salvini

After returning to the orphanage, Hamza settles into his small room, exhausted from the day. The room is humble, with a bed, a small window, and a shelf full of old books. As the night deepens, Hamza drifts into sleep.

Hamza’s Thoughts (before falling asleep): “I wonder who my parents were... What’s the meaning of Marth? Could it be... something more than just a word?”

As he slips into sleep, his locket glows faintly under his shirt, unnoticed by Hamza. His dreams take him far away, not to the familiar streets of Lahore, but to a grand kingdom.

Hamza’s dream transports him to a vast training ground, where a young prince—Salvini—sparred with an older warrior, the chief swordsman of the kingdom, named Kaedan. Prince Salvini, standing tall at 6 feet, had slightly red hair streaked with black, tied back in a ponytail. His cunning red-shaded eyes gleamed with determination, and his muscular body moved with the grace of a trained warrior. Every swing of his sword carried a fire that reflected his inner struggle.

Kaedan, a seasoned warrior with long white hair tied back, bald on top, and a deep scar over his left eye, stood firm and powerful. His broad, muscular frame and stern, weathered face told stories of countless battles. His sharp, calculating eyes never left the prince as he carefully watched every movement.

Kaedan (gruffly):

"Prince Salvini, your skill with the sword is unmatched, but if you continue to fight recklessly, your power will consume you."

Salvini, his fiery red eyes gleaming with defiance, swung his sword with incredible speed, the blade slicing through the air. With each swing, fire erupted from the sword, scorching the ground beneath them.

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Salvini (with a smirk, panting):

"Reckless? Do you think I’m reckless, old man? Watch this!"

Channelling his fire powers through his sword, Salvini releases a massive wave of flames. But the fire quickly grows out of control, the heat intensifying beyond control. Flames spread wildly, soldiers leap back, fear filling their eyes. Salvini’s sword melts under the heat of the firestorm.

Kaedan (yelling): "Stop! You’re going too far!"

Before the flames can consume everything, a powerful figure steps in—King Solomon, the prince’s father. A muscular man in his 40s, his hair similar to Salvini's but with streaks of white, Solomon’s presence alone commands respect. With a swift motion of his hand, the king controls the fire, extinguishing it instantly.

King Solomon (sternly): "Salvini, you’ve lost control again. You need to master your power before it masters you."

Salvini lowers his head in shame, the whispers of disapproving soldiers stinging his ears.

Soldier 1 (whispering): "He’s a danger to all of us. Every time he uses his powers, something gets destroyed."

Soldier 2 (muttering): "He’ll never be like his father..."

Salvini’s fists clench as he storms off toward his chambers, slamming the door shut behind him. His room is grand, but empty, reflecting the loneliness that fills his heart.

Salvini (angrily, to himself): "Why... Why can’t I control it? Why does it always end like this?"

A knock echoes from the door. It’s the king.

King Solomon (softly): "May I come in?"

Without waiting for a response, Solomon steps inside, sitting beside his son, his expression softened with concern.

King (gazing into the distance, voice filled with pride and reverence): "Salvini, you must understand, you are not the first to struggle with this powerful gift. Our ancestor, the legendary Grith the Flame Master, was once a boy just like you, unable to control the flames that surged within him. He faced the same doubts and fears, but he didn’t let them defeat him. Grith chose a different path—he trained tirelessly, alone, mastering his abilities through sheer determination and grit. His journey wasn’t easy; it was filled with pain and sacrifice. But in time, he not only learned to control his fire but also united the leaders of all five nations. Together, they stood against the darkness of Develious in the Great War 500 years ago, where Grith earned his title as the most powerful warrior in the history of Marth. His blood flows through our veins, my son, and within you lies the same potential to control this fire. You will master it, I have no doubt."

Salvini looks up, a spark of determination igniting within him, pushing aside the weight of his earlier frustrations.

Salvini (confidently):

"If Grith could do it, then I can too. I just need to find a way to control it."

The king's smile widens, pride swelling in his chest as he stands and strides confidently to a wall where a magnificent sword hangs, its blade gleaming with the promise of greatness in the dim light of the room.

King Solomon (with a warm tone):

"Let’s practice, my boy. If you can perform a precise fire slash—the most fundamental attack of a fire user—this sword will be yours. I forged it myself in the very fires where we create our finest weapons."

Salvini’s eyes widen, excitement bubbling to the surface, washing away the shadows of doubt that had clouded his spirit.

Salvini (with renewed enthusiasm):

"I won’t disappoint you, Father. I promise to give it everything I have!"

The king chuckles softly, stroking his beard as his thoughts drift to the looming threat of the upcoming war against Develious in ten years—a worry that weighs heavily on his heart.

King Solomon (playfully, yet with a hint of seriousness):

"Remember, my son, focus is key. The sword won’t cut anything if your mind wanders. Channel your fire, let it dance at your command."

As they prepare for training, a palpable bond of understanding and hope fills the air, bridging the gap between generations and igniting a shared vision for the future.

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SCENE 4: THE AWAKENING

Suddenly, Hamza awakens from the dream with a start, his heart racing as reality crashes over him like a wave. The room is cloaked in darkness, the faint light of dawn filtering through the window, casting soft shadows across the humble space. He sits up, confusion swirling in his mind.

Hamza (murmuring to himself):

"What... What was that? Who was that prince?"

His hand instinctively moves to his locket, feeling its warmth against his skin. To his astonishment, it glows softly, pulsating gently as if resonating with the remnants of his dream.

Hamza (whispering):

"Why is this happening? What does this mean?"

Before he can dwell on these questions, the call for Fajr prayer echoes through the streets, its melodic tone cutting through the morning stillness. Hamza quickly rises, performing wudu (ablution) with practiced ease, each motion calming his racing heart. He offers his morning prayer, his voice steady but filled with urgency as he seeks clarity.

Hamza (in his prayer):

"Ya Allah, if this is a sign, show me the path. Guide me toward the truth."

The serenity of prayer washes over him, grounding him as he pours out his thoughts and concerns to Allah. After finishing, he feels a flicker of hope amid the uncertainty.

Hamza gets ready for college, excitement bubbling in his chest. Today is special—he and his classmates are going on a trip to Murree, a chance to escape the confines of the orphanage and embrace the beauty of nature.

As he steps outside, the cool morning air brushes against his face, but he tries to shake off the lingering echoes of the strange dream. Yet, the image of Prince Salvini, with his fiery spirit and struggles, continues to haunt him, intertwining with his own feelings of purpose and destiny.

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Scene 5: The Trip to Murree

At college, Hamza meets his three friends: Ammar, Bilal, Ahmed, and Faraz. The four of them chat excitedly about the trip to Murree.

Faraz (grinning):

"Look who’s here! It’s Hamza the genius! Ready for the trip?

Hamza (smiling): "Yeah, let's make the most of it."

Ammar (teasing):

"Hey, Hamza, you think you’ll finally talk to her today?"

Hamza (rolling his eyes):

"Shut up, Ammar. It’s not like that."

Bilal (laughing):

"Yeah, sure, not like that. Just like it wasn’t like that last week either."

Ahmed (enthusiastically):

"Did you guys see Babar Azam’s century? And Shaheen Afridi taking four wickets, including Kohli and Rohit!"

Hamza (laughing):

"Yeah, that match was insane!"

Faraz:

"What a sensational batting by Babar Azam smashing Indian bowlers! Ooh man that was amazing! And Shaheen took four wickets! It was insane!"

Bilal:

"And Rohit and Virat both fell to Shaheen. What a match!"

Ammar (laughing):

"You think cricket is everything? I’ve got my eyes on that new girl in chemistry class. Bro, she’s exactly my type."

Faraz (teasing):

"You mean the one who doesn’t even know you exist? Please. But speaking of girls, Hamza’s got his eyes on someone too, right?"

Hamza (playfully annoyed):

"Knock it off, man."

Just then, Hamza's crush, a kind-hearted girl named Sarah, walks past them. She smiles at Hamza, who awkwardly waves back.

Sarah (smiling):

"Hey, Hamza! Are you excited for the Murree trip today?"

Hamza (slightly nervous):

"Yeah, definitely. It’ll be fun."

Bilal (whispering to Ahmed):

"Look at him, acting all cool. Come on, Hamza, when will he ask her out?"

Hamza rolls his eyes but can’t help blushing a little.

Hamza (deflecting):

"We should get on the bus before it leaves us behind."

As they walk, Hamza spots Sir Nawaz, their politics teacher, who is discussing the importance of political awareness.

Sir Nawaz (noticing Hamza):

"Ah, Hamza! You always have a sharp mind for politics. Tell me, what do you think about the current situation in our country?"

Hamza (thoughtfully):

"I believe understanding the past is crucial, Sir. If we learn from our history, we can make better choices for the future."

Sir Nawaz (smiling):

"Exactly! You’re quite the genius, Hamza. Your insights often amaze me."

Hamza (humbly):

"Thank you, Sir. I just read a lot."

The three friends laugh as they head towards the bus, continuing their playful banter.

Hamza smiles, though his thoughts are elsewhere, still lingering on the dream. As they reach Murree, the bus tire suddenly punctures, forcing the group to hike through a nearby forest while the bus is repaired.

SCENE 6: THE SECOND DREAM AND THE DISASTER

As the students explore the forest, Hamza finds a quiet spot under the shade of a tree and sits down. The sound of the breeze and the rustling leaves calms him, and before he knows it, he dozes off.

In Hamza’s dream, Prince Salvini stands high in the volcanic mountains his father had mentioned earlier. The ground beneath him glows with molten lava as he trains with a normal sword, feeling the weight of the blade in his hands.

Prince Salvini (focused, muttering to himself):

"I can do this. I must control it this time."

With a deep breath, Salvini channels his fire energy through the sword, attempting to strike with precision. A flaming arc slices through the air, heating the volcanic rocks around him. But just as he begins to regain some control, a shadowy creature bursts from the darkness, catching him off guard.

Prince Salvini (panicked):

"What?! Where did that come from?"

The monstrous figure snarls and lunges toward the young prince. Salvini instinctively raises his sword to defend himself, but his hands tremble with fear.

Salvini (gripping his sword tightly):

"What... What is that?! I think it’s the Shadow Monster! I’ve never seen one before. Our soldiers fight them, and I always wanted to take one down. Why am I so frightened now?!"

The monster attacks him. He dodges its strike, rolling across the ground, but the creature’s claws graze his arm, drawing blood. Panic wells up inside him, and his locket—identical to Hamza’s—begins to glow. In desperation, the prince unleashes a massive fire slash that destroys the monster but also burns the surroundings, including his sword.

Prince Salvini (breathing heavily, talking to himself):

"That was close... Too close. What is this thing doing here?"

His eyes catch a strange object the monster was holding, now lying on the ground amid the ashes. It glows faintly, a smooth, dark stone with intricate engravings.

Prince Salvini (curious but wary):

"What... is this?"

He reaches out and touches it, but the moment his fingers make contact, a strange energy surges through him. The stone starts to pulse, and the locket around his neck begins to glow in unison.

Prince Salvini (panicking):

"No! Not again! I can’t control this!"

The energy grows stronger, swirling around him. His flames react wildly.

Back in Murree: The Landslide

At the same moment in the real world, Hamza's group is hit with a sudden landslide. The earth trembles, and rocks begin to tumble down the mountainside. Students and teachers scatter in panic, trying to get everyone to safety.

Teacher (shouting):

"Everyone, run! Get to a safe spot!"

Hamza, still deep in his dream, is jolted awake by the sound of crumbling rocks. His eyes snap open, and he sees a large boulder hurtling toward him.

Hamza (yelling, panicked):

"What’s happening?!"

The locket around Hamza’s neck starts shining brightly, pulsing in time with Salvini’s. As Salvini collapses from exhaustion, the stone in his hand releases a burst of energy that tears a rift in the space around him.

Hamza scrambles to his feet, heart pounding as the rock comes closer. Before he can react, his locket begins to glow once more, pulsating with energy. In Salvini’s world, the stone the monster held shines in sync with Hamza's and Salvini’s locket.

The energies from both lockets and the stone start to burst, and in a blinding flash of light, Hamza vanishes from the forest into a black void, feeling as if his body and soul are separating. Believing he is dying, Hamza recites the First Kalma before blacking out.

Back in the Fantasy World: Hamza and Salvini’s Connection

Hamza wakes up to find himself in an entirely different place—a cold, rocky mountain. The air is thick with heat, and the skies are a shade of red, unlike anything he’s ever seen.

Chief (shaking Prince Salvini, shouting):

"Prince! Are you alright? Prince Salvini!"

Hamza looks around, confused and disoriented.

Hamza (shocked, trying to make sense of it):

"Where am I...? What is this place? Why are they calling me Prince? Who are they?"

The chapter ends with Hamza standing frozen in shock, struggling to understand how he has been transported to a different world and what this connection to Prince Salvini means.

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Until next time: