I’ve known Tijorimal my entire life. To the world, he’s just our family’s eccentric accountant, a relic from my grandfather’s time. But I know the truth—he’s Tijorimal, the guardian of secrets buried deep in our bloodline. He’s always been there, silent, watching, guiding.

Tonight, he summoned me to the old study. The oil lamps flicker as he places a rusted iron box on the desk. 'It is time,' he says, voice barely above a whisper. 'You must choose: open it and claim what was meant for you… or seal it forever and live as an ordinary man.'

His hands tremble as he slides the key toward me. 'If you open it, there is no return. The world you know will burn. But if you refuse… I will serve you still. As I always have.'

I stare at the box. My father never opened it. My grandfather didn’t either. But Tijorimal’s eyes—filled with something like hope, like sorrow—tell me this moment was inevitable.