By the time Arav turned eight, he had learned something uncomfortable.
People did not only watch strength.
They watched restraint.
The realization came to him on an ordinary afternoon—one that began with laughter and ended with silence.
The outer gardens were alive with movement. Servants trimmed hedges. Guards rotated lazily beneath the shade of tall trees. A small group of visiting traders waited near the gate, their carts stacked with cloth and spice. Nothing unusual. Nothing threatening.
Isha ran ahead of Arav, her braid bouncing as she chased Vyomar across the grass.
"Furbols! Come back!" she yelled.
Vyomar skidded to a halt, turned dramatically, and plopped down, refusing to move another step.
Isha gasped. "He's cheating!"
Arav smiled faintly and followed at an easy pace. He wasn't in a hurry. He didn't need to be.
That alone marked the difference from years ago.
The traders laughed quietly among themselves as they watched the scene.
"Is that the Ashvathar child?" one murmured.
"Which one?" another asked.
"The calm one."
The word lingered.
Calm.
Isha reached Vyomar and tried—unsuccessfully—to tug his tail. The white lion let out a warning huff, ears flattening.
"Isha," Arav called, his voice firm but gentle. "Not the tail."
She froze, then pouted. "But he started it."
Vyomar sneezed.
Arav stepped closer and crouched beside them. "He doesn't know his strength yet. Just like me."
Isha blinked up at him, then nodded solemnly. "Okay."
She stepped back.
Vyomar relaxed immediately.
The traders exchanged glances.
"That's… unusual," one whispered.
Arav felt it then—the subtle tightening in his chest. Not danger. Attention.
He straightened slowly, eyes lifting just enough to meet the distant gazes before looking away again.
Not hiding.
Not challenging.
Just… aware.
That evening, Sharanya called him to sit with her near the inner lamps as dusk settled.
"You noticed it today, didn't you?" she asked softly.
Arav nodded. "They were watching."
"What did it make you feel?"
He thought carefully. "Heavy."
Sharanya smiled, though there was sadness in it. "That feeling doesn't go away. But you can decide what you do with it."
A burst of laughter echoed from the courtyard as Meghala argued loudly with a guard about something trivial.
Sharanya leaned closer. "Strength draws eyes. Control earns trust. Compassion… earns loyalty."
Arav absorbed the words quietly.
Later that night, as rain whispered against the roof, the system stirred.
Not urgently.
Not loudly.
[Daily Sign-In Complete]
Reward: Weather-Adapted Cloak]
Arav frowned slightly at the simple garment.
The next morning, when he stood outside during a light drizzle and felt neither cold nor damp, Vyomar tried to sit under the cloak too.
It didn't work.
Meghala laughed so hard she nearly fell off the steps.
"Look at him," she wheezed. "Cosmic predator reduced to soggy cat."
Vyomar glared, offended.
The laughter faded quickly when a servant approached—breathing fast, face pale.
"Lady Sharanya," the servant said urgently. "There's… a disturbance near the lower wall."
Aaryan was already moving.
Arav followed, heart steady but alert.
They found the cause quickly.
A child—no older than Isha—stood frozen near the boundary stones, clutching a broken toy. A thin ripple trembled in the air around him, faint but unstable. His aether was leaking erratically, reacting to fear.
A minor accident.
But accidents could become disasters.
"I didn't mean to," the boy whispered, tears streaking his face. "It just… came out."
Guards hesitated, unsure.
Arav stepped forward before anyone could stop him.
"Arav," Sharanya began—
"I know," he said quietly.
He crouched in front of the boy, lowering himself to eye level.
"It's okay," Arav said. "You're scared. That's why it's shaking."
The boy sniffed. "I'm not strong."
Arav shook his head. "Strength isn't loud. Watch."
He inhaled slowly.
His flame stirred—barely visible, contained so tightly it didn't warm the air.
No flare.
No distortion.
Just presence.
"Breathe with me," Arav said.
The boy copied him.
Once.
Twice.
The ripple softened.
Aaryan watched closely.
When the aether settled completely, Sharanya stepped in and guided the boy away gently, speaking in a low, reassuring voice.
The courtyard remained silent.
Meghala finally broke it. "Well. That was terrifying in a very responsible way."
Aaryan placed a hand on Arav's shoulder.
Not heavily.
Not approvingly.
Just… there.
Later, as night settled fully, Arav sat on the steps with Vyomar beside him.
"I didn't use my power," Arav said quietly.
Vyomar rumbled softly, as if agreeing.
"I wanted to," Arav admitted. "But… it didn't feel right."
Vyomar leaned against him, warm and steady.
Above them, clouds shifted, and far away—so distant it barely registered—thunder murmured.
Arav listened without tension.
Being seen was a weight.
But it was also a choice.
And tonight, he had chosen well.