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They say it only appears when the moon forgets its place in the sky. A presence â or perhaps just a rumour â cloaked in silence and ancient breath. Some recall the shape, others only remember the cold.
The Nirbindra, they whisper. A name spoken like a question, never an answer.
Was it ever truly there? A divine fragment, a mistake in time, or merely the dream of a dying mind? The records conflict. The survivors speak in riddles. And the place where it was said to appear â well, even maps avoid it now.
All that remains is a trail of symbols no one admits to understanding, and a feeling that reality⌠might have blinked.
