Aaryan didn't return to his courtyard.

The sky hadn't yet begun to pale, but the stars had already started to dim—fading one by one like embers dying in ash. He walked in silence, his cloak trailing faintly behind him, still slightly damp from the cool night air. The silence of the sect grounds pressed against him, but it wasn't oppressive. Not tonight. Just… still.

He turned off the main path, winding down the smaller lane leading toward Elder Dharun's residence. A pair of sect guards stood at attention at the gate, spears crossed lazily in front of them. One of them blinked, then straightened when he recognized the approaching figure.

"Disciple Aaryan," the older of the two said quickly, lowering his spear. "Welcome back. You may proceed."

The younger one gave a nod, less formal but respectful. Both of them had seen him come and go enough times not to question it. And Elder Dharun had made it clear long ago—this boy was not to be stopped.

Aaryan offered a faint nod and passed through without a word.

The inner courtyard was dimly lit by spirit lanterns, their pale glow casting long shadows across the stone floor. He walked up the familiar steps and entered through the carved doorway, his footsteps light. The main chamber was quiet, the air still perfumed with incense that hadn't yet burned out.

Empty.

Dharun's usual meditation seat was vacant, the cushions neatly placed, the tea tray untouched.

'Training, maybe.' Aaryan exhaled softly and sank into one of the chairs.

A maid appeared quietly from the side corridor, startled to see him. "Young Master Aaryan. Elder Dharun is not in at the moment—shall I bring you some tea while you wait?"

He nodded without looking up. "Mm."

She returned a moment later with a steaming cup, placed it gently by his side, and withdrew.

Aaryan didn't touch it. He leaned back, closed his eyes. Tried to breathe.

The image of Nitish—and that man—looped in his mind, over and over.

He didn't know how long passed before something disturbed his trail of thoughts.

The door creaked open, followed by familiar, measured footsteps. Dharun's voice came a moment later, amused and dry. "I take it the gathering went better than expected—since you skipped sleep just to grace me with your presence."

Aaryan opened his eyes and tilted his head to look at him. "Oh, absolutely," he said. "Few mocking me openly, someone threatening by hiding his words as advice, and Rudra being... well, Rudra. Truly heartwarming stuff."

Dharun chuckled, removing his outer robe and settling into the seat across from him. But something about Aaryan's tone made him pause. The sarcasm was there, but behind it—tightness. Strain. A weariness that didn't come from lack of sleep.

Dharun studied him a moment longer.

Aaryan sat still, elbows resting on the armrest, his fingers faintly curled as if caught mid-thought. His eyes were open, looking at him, but they weren't really seeing him—like they were fixed somewhere distant, locked on something Dharun couldn't see.

The elder's voice softened. "You're not one to get rattled easily. But right now… you look like someone who's seen something they can't quite put down."

Aaryan didn't flinch, didn't look up. He just breathed—slowly, as if remembering how.

And that silence, the kind he rarely let linger, told Dharun everything.

A few breaths passed.

Then Aaryan exhaled.

"I shouldn't have come back."

His voice was low. Serious. The kind of tone that didn't belong to him—at least, not the version of him Dharun knew. There was no trace of his usual sharpness, no sardonic edge hiding behind the words. Just quiet, bitter certainty.

"I don't know how I convinced myself it was a good idea. What was I thinking?" His jaw tightened. "What kind of fool walks back into the spider's nest?"

Dharun's expression shifted.

A second passed. Then another.

In all the time he'd known the boy—in all the chaos, in every moment Aaryan had bled and laughed through pain—he had never sounded like this. Not when a dozen outer disciples surrounded him in front of the resource hall. Not when he stood alone in front of three elders and forced them to attack him. Even then, even then, his voice had held fire.

But now...

Now, it held something worse. A kind of hollow conviction. Like someone already bracing for a noose.

He leaned forward, carefully. "Aaryan. What happened?"

Aaryan was silent for a moment, gathering the weight behind his thoughts. Then he spoke, quieter but steadier.

"The gathering was… predictable. Dhawan, Koni, and Shoya were waiting for their chance to take shots at me. They did it openly, like it was tradition. I didn't care. That wasn't the part that stuck." He glanced up briefly. "It was Nitish."

Dharun's brow rose slightly. Aaryan went on.

"He tried to bait me. Talked about a chance—something about the 'Mani Disciple' trial. Said I should consider joining to prove I deserve to be a core disciple. Said it'd be the best thing for me. For my future." His lip curled. "He spoke like it was an opportunity. Like it wasn't a setup waiting to happen."

At that, Dharun's fingers stilled. But he didn't speak.

"I didn't stay long after that. It felt too clean. Too rehearsed. So, after he left, I followed him. Just to see." His fingers tightened slightly around the chair's arm. "He met someone. A cloaked man. They spoke in low tones, but I heard enough. They were certain I'd take part in the trial. Like it was already decided. Like I was already theirs."

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Silence stretched between them.

Then Dharun's brow furrowed, deeply this time.

"Nitish is the Sect Leader's personal disciple," he said, slowly. "And he's already at the peak of Ninth Stage Body Tempering. One breath away from Qi Condensation." He paused. "If he spoke of the Mani Disciple trial, then it's real. And if what you saw is true... then this isn't just about him."

Dharun looked up. "It's about the one behind him."

A pause.

"The Sect Leader."

Dharun's gaze sharpened. Grave now.

"That means Pryag himself is involved. He is the one after you."

Aaryan didn't respond. He didn't need to.

The silence was enough.

A long silence passed.

The kind that sat heavy in the chest—not awkward, not tense—just… full. Laden with the weight of everything that hadn't been said yet. The hearth crackled quietly in the corner, casting long shadows across the room. Outside, the wind stirred the branches of the silent trees, but inside, even breath felt loud.

Dharun's voice finally broke the stillness, low and steady, as if pulling words from deep within.

"You're only nine years old, Aaryan."

He let that settle a moment. His eyes were unreadable.

"And in that short time… you've faced more life-and-death trials than most core disciples will ever know. Even Vayu, even Nitish—those golden sons of the sect—they've never been pushed the way you have."

He tilted his head slightly, watching Aaryan with something caught between concern and disappointment.

"So why," he asked quietly, "do you sound like someone who's already lost?"

Aaryan's lips moved.

A hollow curve—not quite a smile. A shape without warmth.

"No," he murmured, voice soft as a dying ember. "It's not that I've admitted defeat."

His gaze dropped. Shadows pooled beneath his eyes.

"I just… got overconfident."

Dharun didn't respond. Didn't nod, didn't interrupt. He simply waited, hands still in his lap, eyes calm and unwavering.

Aaryan exhaled. The kind of breath that tasted like regret.

"After the tomb… after getting through those trials… everything changed. Or at least I thought it did. My strength—it jumped too fast. I felt invincible. Maybe I needed to."

His fists curled slowly on his knees.

"And then came Kezan. Then the other two. Three elders—and I won. But that fight wasn't clever. It wasn't planned. It was a storm. I just… held on long enough to break something."

He looked up, voice hollow. "It wasn't a test of wits. Just raw strength. Desperation. Instinct."

A flicker of something passed through his eyes—shame, perhaps.

"I mistook survival for power," he whispered. "And that… that got into my head."

He paused, brows drawing in slightly.

"I thought I understood the threat. Thought I could see the pieces moving. When they summoned me back to the sect, I assumed it was just some elder looking for something which I didn't know yet. I thought I had time. That they'd play their games from the shadows. Let me breathe before the blade fell."

His jaw clenched. The next words came sharp.

"But I was wrong. I walked straight into it. Into their trap. And now…"

His voice dropped lower.

"…there's barely any room left to wiggle."

Dharun's face was carved from stillness, unreadable.

"If Pryag really is the one pulling the strings," Aaryan said, quieter now, "then nothing we do will matter. He's the Sect Leader. One word from him and we're done. All he has to do is whisper that I'm a threat. A traitor. A shadow wrapped in lies."

He tapped the wooden armrest twice—rhythmic, like a ticking clock.

"You've seen it. Doesn't matter what's true. If he points at me, they'll come. Disciples, elders, even outer court fools—every last one will draw their sword just to prove their loyalty."

Dharun remained silent. But his eyes had narrowed.

"They know," Aaryan added. "They know I'm close to you. And they know about Kalyani."

His voice grew brittle.

"Even if I slip away now… even if I vanish during the trial… they'll use you. Use her. Hold you both over fire and wait for me to crawl out."

That finally drew something from Dharun—a quiet exhale, half a laugh. A flash of amusement that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Didn't we already think of that?" he asked, his lips twitching. "Isn't that why we prepared?"

Aaryan nodded, slow and hesitant.

"We did. I know. I just… I don't know anymore."

He looked away, as if ashamed to voice it.

"I'm not sure if it's enough."

Silence reclaimed the room for a breath.

Then Aaryan leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, voice steady—but dulled. "If I can avoid joining the trial, I will. I'll try everything. Lie. Disappear. Make a scene. Whatever it takes."

Dharun's gaze sharpened.

"But," Aaryan continued, "if I end up in it… if there's no way around… then you don't wait. You move. No hesitation. Just do it."

His eyes met Dharun's, sharp now. Clear.

"That's the only way," he said. "It's the only shot we'll get."

He leaned back slowly, letting the words sink in.

The hearth crackled again, but the warmth it offered felt distant. Thin.

"Survival."

He said the word like it hurt. Like it didn't belong in his mouth anymore.

It lingered in the air between them, heavy.

He tasted it—and hated it.

After Maya… after those six long months of bone-cracking silence and soul-flaying lessons… he had sworn he would do more than survive.

He would live. He would be.

He'd shed that boy who relied on tricks and opportunities to survive. He'd rise above it. Become something greater. Something untouchable.

But now…

Now, he could feel it all slipping again.

Too weak.

Still too weak.

Even survival—that last promise—felt like a lie now. Fraying. Unravelling. Slipping beyond reach.

Dharun finally exhaled. A slow, quiet release of breath, as though letting go of something long held back.

"You don't need to worry about me," he said, voice low but firm. "Or Kalyani."

His gaze didn't waver.

"If it comes to that—if they really force you into the trial—then I'll do what we planned. No hesitation."

The crackle of the fire filled the space between his words.

"You just focus on surviving it. On getting out."

Aaryan nodded slowly. The movement was small, deliberate.

"That's the only play we've got left," he murmured, more to himself than Dharun.

He sat still for a beat, then blinked and looked up. A frown tugged at his brow.

"But even now… I still don't get it," he said. "Why me?"

His voice wasn't angry—just tired. Confused.

"I'm just a nine-year-old orphan," he said, voice low. "Barely been in the sect a year."

He scoffed faintly, shaking his head.

"If all this had started after I came back from the tomb, maybe it would've made sense. Maybe they thought I got some ancient technique, or some treasure. That I was hiding power I wasn't supposed to have."

He looked up again, eyes darker now.

"But even before the tomb... I could feel it. That weight. Someone watching. Waiting. It was faint, but it was there. Like I was walking through someone else's game board."

His fingers tapped once on the armrest, then curled into a fist.

"And why now, exactly?" he added, quieter. "Elder Sheila… she said something would happen soon. Like she knew. How did she know?"

Dharun's eyes narrowed slightly. He didn't answer right away.

The fire crackled again, spitting sparks into the dim air.

When he finally spoke, his voice was thoughtful. Careful.

"I don't know what they want from you," he admitted. "Not exactly."

He leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking faintly beneath him.

"But why now?" His brow furrowed. "Maybe they're afraid."

Aaryan glanced at him, puzzled.

"Afraid?" he echoed.

Dharun nodded once.

"You reached the eighth stage of Body Tempering in under a year. That's not just rare, Aaryan—that's unheard of. Across every sect in the region."

He paused, eyes distant.

"And if you can grow that much in a year… then what happens in two? Or five? Maybe they think that if they wait any longer, they won't be able to stop you even if they want to."

Aaryan didn't reply. He stared at the floor, absorbing the words. A creeping unease settled in his gut—not fear, not really. But the sense of something far bigger than him beginning to move.

Dharun leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. When he spoke again, it was slower. Like he wasn't sure of his own thoughts.

"…Maybe," he said quietly, "maybe this is all connected to the Trial for the Mani Disciple."

Aaryan looked up, sharply.

"What do you mean?"

Dharun didn't answer.

Not yet.

Dawn loomed outside. The sky painted itself in soft golds, as if peace reigned.

But Aaryan knew better.

Whatever the Trial truly was… he was already caught in its shadow.

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