In a small wooden house perched on a snowy mountainside, the wind howled against the thin walls. Agan walked through the door, carrying his Nine-year-old sister, Sheetal, in his arms.

  Once inside, Agan quickly grabbed a thick bedsheet and wrapped it tightly around her. Sheetal looked up, her teeth chattering. "I’m not... shivering. Use it for yourself, Agan."

  Agan just smiled, tucking the corners of the sheet around her. "I forgot I was cold" he joked softly. "What do you want for dinner tonight?"

  "As you wish," Sheetal replied, clutching a cup of water. "I’m fine with anything."

  Agan sat across from her, his expression turning serious. "So, have you considered my proposal?"

  Sheetal paused, the cup halfway to her lips. "About what?"

  "You forgot already? About going to the school down the mountain," Agan said gently.

  "No," Sheetal snapped, her eyes flashing. "I won't go."

  "Sheetal, listen to me. You cannot live up here forever. I spoke to the hostel warden; he promised to take care of you. You’ll have a warm bed and regular meals."

  "I don't care!" Sheetal's voice cracked. "I’m not going anywhere without you."

  Agan sighed, looking at his calloused hands. "You don't understand. I can't leave. Our only money comes from the rare deodar wood I find in these peaks. I don't have any other skills, Sheetal. I’m asking you to do this for me. Please... consider it."

  Sheetal looked at her brother’s tired face. The anger drained out of her, replaced by a heavy hesitation. "Give me sometime," she whispered. "I will think."

  Agan’s face lit up with a rare, bright smile. "Good girl."

  Down in the valley, the shepherd stood nervously in front of the village Kartha’s door. He knocked, his hands trembling.

  "Come in," a strange, deep voice called out.

  The shepherd entered and froze. Sitting at the desk was a man he didn't recognize. "Excuse me... is Kartha not here?"

  "The Kartha went to the Mumbat HQ for a strategic meeting" the man replied without looking up. "I’m his temporary replacement from Mumbat region. Tell me, what’s the matter?"

  "It’s my son," the shepherd said, his voice rising with panic. "At 1:00 PM, I went home for lunch. The forest nearby was frozen over, so I told my son to take our sheep higher up the mountain to find green grass. I went to deliver milk to the village. It’s 6:00 PM now. He should have been back an hour ago... but he’s gone. I’m afraid something terrible has happened."

  "Don't worry," the man said, standing up. He was aged, but his body was built like a mountain—pure, hardened muscle. He reached for a weapon leaning against the wall: dual axes connected by a heavy iron chain. He swung the chain over his back.

  As he stepped toward the door, the shepherd called out a warning. "Wait! The mountains shake at night. Those who go into the high range... they never return. Please, be careful."

  "I will," the man replied calmly. "And I’ll bring your son back."

  The shepherd watched him go, then shouted after him, "Sir... Can I know your name?"

  The man didn't turn back as he vanished into the swirling snow. "It’s Drona," he said.

  Deep in the frozen silence of the high peaks, Agan and Sheetal lay asleep. The only sound was the rhythmic howl of the wind—until a sharp, rhythmic thud echoed against the front door.

  Agan bolted upright. He glanced at Sheetal, who remained deep in slumber, and quietly pulled the bedroom door shut to protect her. He moved toward the main entrance, his heart beginning to pace.

  Knock. Knock.

  "Who’s there?" Agan called out, his voice low and cautious.

  "Please... can I come in?" a small voice drifted through the wood.

  "Tell me who you are first," Agan demanded.

  "I’m from a village located at the Valley in the bottom of the mountain. I lost my way in the heavy snow... I’m shivering... please."

  Agan exhaled, the tension in his chest easing slightly. He unbolted the door and looked down to see a small boy, pale and dusted in frost. "Come in," Agan said quickly, pulling him into the warmth.

  Agan set a bowl of hot soup before the guest. The boy began to eat with a desperate, frantic hunger.

  "Are you that hungry?" Agan asked softly.

  "Yes," the boy replied between gulps. "I took my cattle high into the range to find food, but the storm blinded me. I saw your light and knocked. Can I stay the night?"

  "Sure," Agan said, watching the boy's shivering hands. He saw an opportunity in the tragedy. "Can you do me a favour" agan asked. "What is it" the boy asked.

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  "... You said you are from the Valley right..I’m planning to send my sister to the school hostel in the valley. If you live nearby—could you look after her for me?"

  The boy looked up, a bit of warmth returning to his eyes. "The shalom hostel?."

  Agan said "Yes...it is."

  The boy said "It’s right near my house. I’ll do it. I’ll make sure she’s safe."

  "Thank you," Agan whispered, feeling a brief moment of peace.

  "Mehh

  "My cattle," the boy said.“They were slipping on the ice — I tied them to the supports of the house before they could scatter!”

  Agan’s face went white. He didn't explain; he lunged for the door, swinging it open against the freezing gale. He began frantically slicing and untying the ropes, his fingers fumbling with the frozen knots.

  The boy ran out behind him, grabbing Agan’s arm. "What are you doing? Stop!"

  "Get back!" Agan hissed, his eyes darting toward the darkness. "We have to release them. All of them. Now!"

  "Why?" the boy cried, confused and terrified.

  "Because it will come for the smell!"

  As the words left Agan’s mouth, one of the released goats wandered a few yards into the swirling snow. It suddenly froze, its head cocking to the side as it stared into the "ash"—the thick, grey haze of the storm.

  A massive shadow, tall and distorted, solidified out of the white-out. Without a sound, a giant, gnarled hand reached out from the mist, snatched the goat mid-air, and shoved it into a cavernous, unseen mouth.

  Agan didn't wait to see more. He grabbed the boy’s hand, hauled him back inside, and slammed the bolt home, the sound of the beast's wet chewing echoing through the thin walls.

  Agan hurriedly lit several sticks of agarbatti. The sweet, thick scent of incense began to swirl through the room as he placed them near the door and window frames.

  "What is that?" the shepherd boy whispered, his eyes wide.

  "It’s the Troll," Agan said, his voice barely audible. "Your people call it Yeti. They are the giants of the high peaks."

  The boy’s face paled. "The mythics from the underworld," he murmured. "Do you really think the incense will hide our scent?"

  Agan replied. "In ash storms, their eyes fail them. They hunt by scent. The incense hides our scent. But if it sees us move, we’re dead."

  They crouched low, hiding beneath the heavy wooden table. Outside, the howling wind was punctuated by a sickening, rhythmic crunch. It was the sound of the cattle being devoured. Suddenly, the chewing stopped. The silence that followed was even more terrifying. Agan pressed a finger to his lips, signaling the boy to stay absolutely still.

  The silence was shattered not by the monster, but by the creak of a bedroom door. Sheetal stepped out, rubbing sleep from her eyes, her voice small and groggy.

  "Agan? Where are you?"

  She spotted them huddled under the table and froze. "Agan, why are you—"

  She stopped. Her gaze drifted upward toward the window. Behind the frosted glass, a massive eye—was staring directly at her in the light of the chimney.

  Before a scream could leave her throat, the window exploded inward. A colossal, gnarled hand burst through the frame, glass shattering like rain. It snatched Sheetal around her waist and hauled her out into the freezing night.

  "Sheetal! NO!" Agan roared.

  He lunged for the shelf, grabbed his heavy wood-cutting axe, and sprinted out into the snow. Outside, a thirty-foot-tall horror loomed over the house, its skin like cracked stone and matted fur. The Troll lifted Sheetal toward its cavernous mouth, but the girl reacted with a desperate, primal instinct.

  As she shoved her hands against the creature's palm, a blast of unnatural frost erupted from her skin. The Troll’s massive hand turned white, then blue, as a thick layer of ice locked its fingers in place.

  Agan saw his chance. "I'm coming!" He hurled his axe with every ounce of his strength. The blade bit deep into the Troll’s frozen wrist, but the ice was too thick; the axe remained stuck, vibrating uselessly in the frozen flesh.

  The shepherd boy, watching from the shattered doorway, shouted in despair, "It's not enough! We need a bigger axe!"

  Just as despair set in, a massive shadow cut through the blizzard. A heavy, double-headed axe came spinning through the air like a silver whirlwind. It collided with the Troll’s frozen wrist with a bone-shattering crack, severing the hand entirely. Sheetal plummeted through the air, but before she could hit the jagged rocks, a man appeared from the mist and caught her mid-fall.

  Agan and the shepherd boy watched in stunned silence as the stranger set Sheetal down.

  "Go back into the house," Drona commanded, his voice as cold as the mountain air. "I will manage this."

  With a simple gesture, the flying axe reversed its path, returning automatically to Drona’s grip. He clicked a heavy iron chain, merging his two axes into a singular, devastating weapon. The Troll, maddened by the loss of its hand, let out a deafening roar and charged. Drona moved with lethal precision, dodging the giant's lumbering strikes and countering with brutal swings.

  But as his blades bit into the beast’s thick hide, Drona gritted his teeth. "My axes... they were not forged for Trolls. These aren't the mythics I used to fight"

  The Troll swung a massive arm, a glancing blow that sent Drona flying back into the snowbanks.

  Sheetal scrambled to her feet. Seeing the stranger in danger, Agan and the shepherd boy grabbed her hands, trying to pull her toward the safety of the forest.

  "We have to run!" Agan shouted. "We don't have the strength to fight that thing!"

  "No, Agan," Sheetal said, her voice trembling but certain. She wrenched her hand away. "I have the strength."

  She sprinted back toward the battlefield. As the Troll raised a foot the size of a boulder to crush the fallen Drona, Sheetal screamed, thrusting both palms forward. A wave of absolute zero erupted from her. The ice climbed the Troll’s legs, locking its joints.

  "The neck!" Drona yelled, seeing the opening. "Target the neck!"

  Sheetal channeled every drop of her life force, driving the frost upward until a collar of jagged ice encased the monster's throat. The frost didn’t just surge forward — it exploded outward in every direction. The Troll struggled, the ice beginning to spider-web under its immense strength. In that fraction of a second, Drona lunged. His axes flashed in a twin arc, slicing through the frozen neck. The Troll's head fell into the snow with a dull thud.

  Sheetal gasped for air, her lungs burning from the cold she had summoned. "I did it... Agan, did you see? I did it!"

  No one answered.

  She turned around, a smile forming on her face—and then her heart stopped. In her blind, panicked surge of power, Sheetal hadn't just frozen the monster. Behind her, Agan stood perfectly still, encased in a thick, translucent pillar of ice, when he tried to stop her.

  Drona rushed forward. With a precise strike of his axe handle, he shattered the icy casing. Agan’s body collapsed into the snow. Drona worked frantically, pumping Agan’s chest, trying to force a heartbeat back into a body that was already too cold. But it was no use. The life had been snuffed out by the very power meant to protect it.

  The scene shifted to the village below. The shepherd boy was reunited with his father, clutching a small lamb Drona had recovered from the slopes. The boy smiled through his tears, but his eyes remained on Sheetal. She sat alone on the stone steps of the Kartha’s hall, a broken shadow of the girl she had been.

  "Don't worry. I will take care of her," Drona promised the shepherd boy.

  He walked over to Sheetal. The mountain wind tugged at his cloak. "I am leaving for the Mumbat HQ. The village Kartha will return tomorrow to resume his duties."

  He stopped, looking down at her. "Will you come with me?"

  Sheetal looked up, her eyes wide with shock. In the silence of the valley, she realized her life on the mountain died with Agan. Her journey was only beginning.