1193 AD. Foreign invaders sweep through northern India.

Nalanda — the greatest university the world had ever seen — is set on fire.

Nine million manuscripts. Ten thousand students. Two thousand teachers.

The fire burns for three months.

Every book, every scroll, every word of human knowledge — reduced to ash.

The world does not yet know what it has lost.

“My father described Nalanda like a second sky — so vast, so full of light.”

“He said walking its corridors felt like touching everything humanity had ever known.”

“Then the news reached our village. Foreign invaders. Fire. No survivors.”

“My father was one of the scholars who could not escape.”

“I left home the same day the news arrived.”

“Months later, I arrived at the gates. Nothing remained but ash and silence.”

“Nine million manuscripts. Gone. Every word my father ever read — gone.”

“But knowledge does not vanish. It moves. It hides. It waits.”

“Then it's my mission now — to gather what was lost, and rebuild Nalanda. For my father.”