The crowd thinned, their chants of "Mukhya Surya" fading into the warm dusk as the Dharma Vulture turned to him, his golden robes catching the last light. "I know your father's tale," he said, voice low with a weight of years. "The maharaja dotes too fondly on his kin—I lack the sway to defy him openly. I've offered your family coin time and again, but Rajesh refused, aware of the eyes that watch. His comrades who sent grain or sought to hire him or your mother were nearly beaten to death—I couldn't halt it. This way, at least, he'll harbor no regrets. Don't misread me, lad—you earned this alone. Elenav swore you were worthy, and I see it now."
"Pitashri, you doubted me?" Elenav's voice cut in, teasing as he climbed the steps, his saffron kurta dusty from the day.
The mantri clapped Surya's shoulder. "Fine work! Sharp planning, sharper execution—you've a knack for raj-niti. I wish this lout shared it, but he's all fists and fire."
Surya's jaw slackened. Elenav's father? The silver hair clashed with Elenav's raven locks—no hint had ever bridged them in his mind.
The mantri sighed. "I've told him—the truest justice lies in rising through the raj-sabha. If only he'd heed me. Enough—Ponvec, take the boy home."
A figure in black, face veiled, shimmered into being beside the mantri, as if stepping from a hidden fold in the air. "Yes, Eminence," he said, kneeling briefly before seizing Surya's wrist.
Reality warped—a cold mist brushed Surya's skin, though no dampness clung. They stood in a void, colors swirling like Holi powders in a boundless expanse. Below, an abyss gaped, endless and vertiginous. Surya's stomach lurched.
"Easy, lad," Ponvec soothed. "Just a teleportation veil. The young master thinks you might bear a vayuroot. Want a quick lesson on them?"
Swallowing bile, Surya nodded. "Yes, please."
"Vayuroots tie us mages to prakriti," Ponvec began, voice steady as the chaos whirled. "Nestled in the skull, they hum with nature's pulse, letting us coax it to our will. What mage feats have you seen?"
"A water cage from Jal Bhanu. Vidya flew and flung men with a gesture," Surya replied.
"Advanced arts, those. Mages draw prana from their vayuroots to resonate with the world—bending it to purpose. Rich surroundings amplify us. Complexity demands more prana and deeper knowing. Mark this: flow with the river, not against it—you'll grasp why in training. And prakriti isn't just elements. Vidya wields gravity; I command space. Mastery eases spells in your domain. My space art hides me in other realms and leaps me within Lanka-nagar's bounds. Where to, boy?"
"Slums," Surya said.
"Hold fast—shut your eyes unless you fancy retching."
Surya obeyed, the cold-rain sensation washing over him again. "Take care, lad. I'll watch your NAMAL trials," Ponvec's voice murmured, then vanished.
Opening his eyes, Surya stood alone, the slum's familiar stench of smoke and mud greeting him. He trudged home, mind alight—Exp surging, space magic unfurled before him, a mage's path blazing clear. "System, upgrade PAM-1 and start the pseudo-vayuroot technique," he commanded, resolve hardening his gaze.
Nalini's silhouette filled the doorway as he neared, her sari's frayed hem swaying. [PAM-1 upgraded to PAM-2. Remaining Exp: 550. Pseudo-Vayuroot technique development begun. Time: 48 hours.]
A grin split Surya's face. He bounded inside, enveloping Nalini in a fierce embrace, her warmth a balm after the day's storm.
Settling with his parents, he spun the tale of his training, the library's fall, and the mantri's boon, as a world-shifting technique took root within.