By the time Arav turned six, the estate no longer felt like a place meant to contain him.
It felt like a place testing him.
The morning began the same way it always did—cool stone beneath bare feet, the quiet hush before servants stirred, Vyomar padding along behind him with lazy confidence. The white lion had grown enough that his steps sounded heavier now, claws clicking softly against the courtyard tiles.
Arav exhaled slowly and raised his hands.
The flame answered.
Not explosively.
Not eagerly.
It rose like a careful breath—warm, steady, thin as a ribbon.
"Hold," Sharanya said softly.
Arav nodded, brow furrowed in concentration.
For several heartbeats, it worked.
Then a laugh echoed from the outer yard—two servants chatting as they passed—and the sound startled him.
The flame wavered.
The air bent.
A sharp crack rang out as a thin fracture raced across the stone pillar beside him, stopping just short of the base.
Silence fell.
Arav froze, heart hammering.
"I— I didn't mean—"
Sharanya was already beside him.
Her hand closed gently over his wrist, grounding, steady. The flame vanished at once, dissipating like mist under sunlight.
"It's alright," she said calmly. "You didn't lose control. You were distracted."
Arav swallowed. "It almost broke."
"But it didn't," she replied. "And you stopped it."
He looked at the cracked stone, guilt tugging at his chest.
Vyomar padded forward and pressed his head against Arav's leg, golden eyes calm. The cub—no, not a cub anymore—made a low, reassuring sound.
Arav rested a hand on his fur, breathing slowly until the tightness eased.
Later that day, Aaryan observed him in silence as Arav repeated the exercise—again and again—until his hands trembled from exhaustion but the flame never slipped.
"Enough," Aaryan said at last.
Arav lowered his arms, chest heaving.
"You recognized the moment before failure," Aaryan continued. "That matters more than perfection."
Arav nodded, though his shoulders sagged.
That night, as rain tapped gently against the roof and Vyomar sprawled across his blankets like he owned the bed, the familiar pull surfaced quietly.
Not urgent.
Not loud.
Just… present.
[Sign-In Opportunity Detected]
Location: Inner Flame Meditation Chamber
Arav closed his eyes.
Sign in.
Warmth flowed—not outward, but inward.
[Sign-In Complete]
Reward: Focus Anchor (Medium)]
Description: Slightly enhances mental stability during prolonged concentration or emotional fluctuation.]
Arav felt it settle—not like a new strength, but like a knot being gently tied where things often came loose.
He opened his eyes slowly.
Vyomar lifted his head, ears twitching, then sneezed.
Arav laughed quietly.
The next few months passed with fewer cracks and fewer slips. Not because Arav became flawless—but because he learned to notice the moment before things went wrong.
Visitors continued to come and go. Rumors continued to drift. Somewhere beyond the estate, the world turned restlessly.
And sometimes, late at night, when the wind carried distant thunder, Arav would wake briefly—heart steady, flame quiet—and listen without fear.
He was learning.
Not how to be powerful.
But how to remain himself when power pressed close.
The cracks in stone could be repaired.
The cracks inside him mattered more.
And slowly—
those were closing too.