Chapter 1: The Village Today

Tucked away in the heart of the hills, where mist curls around treetops and the sun rises over paddy fields like liquid gold, lies a village untouched by time. No map marks its name, and few travellers ever stumble upon it. Yet, for those who do, it feels like stepping into a forgotten dream—where the air is always a little crisper, and the silence hums with stories waiting to be heard.

The villagers rise with the sun and sleep with the stars. Life here is simple, but never dull. Children race barefoot through narrow lanes, elders sit beneath the banyan tree sharing tales of old, and every household lights a lamp at dusk—not just for light, but for protection.

They say the village is not like others. That it is blessed—or cursed, depending on who you ask. The older folks still bow their heads before crossing the hill’s edge. No one builds beyond a certain point. And every full moon, offerings of rice beer and flowers are left at the stone shrine by the Plimplam Abi pond at the foot of the hillock.

All of it is for Sintu.

Sintu, the lost princess. The guardian of the village. The spirit that watches still.

No one has seen her in daylight, but the stories remain. Passed from mouth to ear, generation after generation. They speak of her long, dark hair, her glowing eyes, and the faint sound of anklets echoing through the night mist.

Some say she appears only when danger nears. Others claim she weeps in the shadows, mourning a life stolen too soon. But all agree on one thing: the village stands because of her.

And somewhere, beyond the fields and beneath the stars, she walks still.