The room was quiet.

  Too quiet.

  Samye sat on the edge of the guest bed, the old watch still resting in his palm. Its ticking sounded ordinary — but the longer he listened, the more it felt like it was syncing with his heartbeat.

  tick — thump — tick — thump

  He frowned.

  “Something’s different,” he murmured.

  Not outside.

  Inside.

  Since the facility… since Aren… since time itself stopped — something in his body and mind no longer felt humanly normal. His senses felt sharper. His reactions faster. His emotions heavier — like they carried weight.

  He stood slowly and began examining himself.

  He checked his pulse — too fast.

  His breathing — uneven.

  His vision — slightly over-focused.

  “What changed…” he whispered.

  He couldn’t name it.

  So he reached for the small mirror hanging beside the water bowl.

  The moment he looked into it—

  His eyes changed.

  The Eyes of Stars flared alive.

  Tiny points of cosmic light ignited across his pupils like distant constellations.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Samye staggered back.

  “No— not now—”

  The mirror image dissolved—

  —and his past exploded across his vision like a fast-forwarded film.

  Fire.

  His parents’ burning pyres.

  Wanted posters.

  Stones thrown at him.

  The forest collapse.

  The old man’s watch.

  The torture wheel.

  Aren’s screams.

  The empty eye sockets.

  The grave in the rain.

  Scene after scene after scene—

  Too fast.

  Too sharp.

  Too real.

  “STOP—!” Samye screamed.

  His heart began racing violently. Each beat slammed against his ribs like a hammer. Pressure built behind his eyes as if something inside them was trying to tear its way out.

  He clawed at his chest.

  “I can’t— I can’t—”

  His vision burned white.

  He coughed—

  Blood splattered onto the floor.

  The heartbeat climbed higher. Faster. Harder.

  His knees gave out.

  Samye collapsed.

  Darkness swallowed him — but not completely.

  Sound became distant and warped, like echoes underwater. His thoughts slowed, dissolving into despair and static.

  So this is the cost…

  This power… is killing me…

  Then—

  A voice.

  Soft. Warm. Familiar.

  “Wake up, son… wake up.”

  His mother.

  Samye reached upward weakly in the darkness.

  “Ma—”

  But the voice faded like mist in sunlight.

  “No— wait—”

  Gone.

  He gasped violently—

  —and woke up.

  Real air. Real light. Real pain.

  He was lying on a wooden cot.

  Not the guest room.

  A clinic.

  Herbal smoke filled the air. Clay medicine bowls lined the shelves. Several villagers stood nearby in concern.

  Kayal was beside him, holding his shoulder.

  “Easy,” Kayal said calmly. “Breathe slowly.”

  Samye obeyed instinctively, dragging air into his lungs.

  “What… happened?” he asked hoarsely.

  “You collapsed,” Kayal said. “You were shouting in your sleep — then your pulse went wild. The healer said it looked like a severe trauma reaction.”

  Nightmare.

  That’s what they thought it was.

  Samye said nothing.

  Because he knew better.

  After a few minutes, his breathing stabilized. The pressure behind his eyes faded. The star-glow was gone.

  Hidden again.

  Controlled — or waiting.

  Kayal studied him carefully.

  “You sure you’re alright?” he asked.

  Samye nodded once. “I am now.”

  Kayal offered a small reassuring smile.

  “The banquet is nearly ready. No pressure — but you’re the guest of honor.”

  Samye sat up slowly.

  “I’ll come.”

  He swung his legs off the cot, steady despite the lingering weakness.

  No explanations.

  No confessions.

  No mention of time stopping.

  Not yet.

  Because if this power was unstable—

  He would learn it first.

  Control it first.

  Understand it first.

  Only then—

  Would he let the world know.