Days passed.
Days after returning from the cave, a quiet change settled over the brothers. Aryan found himself drawn to simple things staring thoughtfully at the gentle flow of a nearby stream, his fingers unconsciously tracing invisible patterns in the air as if trying to grasp something unseen. Meanwhile, Kiran's usual easy laughter grew rare, replaced by sudden silences where his mind seemed lost in distant, shadowy reflections. The cave's discovery wasn't just a memory; it had planted something deep inside them, waiting patiently to awaken.
A sound of energy humming filled the cavern as Aryan sat cross-legged on the stone dais, the sacred diagrams etched beneath him glowing with a faint, golden warmth. Kiran stood across from him, hands clenched, watching closely. It had been weeks since they discovered the mural of the lotus with seven unopened petals the guiding symbol they now believed to represent layers of energy within the body. Seven gates. Seven awakenings
Each night, Aryan sat before the fire, a charcoal stick in his hand, scribbling patterns into the dirt circles and lines that mimicked the symbols from the cave.
"The gates," he murmured. "The seven points… the lotus seals…"
"You're overthinking it," Kiran muttered from across the hall. He was lying on his back, hands behind his head, staring at the beams above them.
Aryan looked up. "This isn't like swordplay, Kiran. It's deeper. I think the gates weren't just drawings—they were... instructions."
Kiran raised an eyebrow. "Instructions for what?"
Aryan said, tone grave. "For changing what we are."
Silence again. The fire cracked softly between them.
Kiran sat up slowly. His gaze wasn't mocking now. "You're serious."
"I feel it," Aryan said, placing a hand over his chest. "Something's there. Locked. Not just in me—but around us. A field. A flow. I don't know how to describe it."
Kiran nodded reluctantly. "I've felt something too. Not just in that cave. Even now… sometimes I feel my breath aligning with something larger. Like the wind is trying to teach me how to breathe properly."
They shared a glance.
It wasn't madness. They both knew that now.
---
The next morning, they climbed the cliffs beyond the monastery. The wind was sharp, biting at their robes. Below them, the forest stretched like a living tapestry, green and deep.
Aryan sat cross-legged, eyes closed, fingers forming a loose mudra. Kiran, more skeptical, chose to pace nearby, arms folded.
"Come on," Aryan urged gently. "Just try."
"I don't close my eyes around cliffs," Kiran grumbled.
Still, after a moment, he relented. Sat down. Closed his eyes.
Aryan had been studying the old mantras ones that spoke of a language older than the veda. He didn't understand all the terms, but the rhythm of the chants helped still his mind.
He began to focus.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Stillness.
Then something shifted.
Like warmth curling at the base of his spine.
It wasn't dramatic. It didn't burn or explode. But it called. A silent vibration, like the hum of the Earth itself.
His vision remained closed, yet he saw something.
A red lotus. Slowly unfolding.
A warm current rose from Aryan's spine. Not hot, not painful. Just... present. Like the Earth itself was pushing something through him, whispering, "Begin."
His breathing slowed. His awareness dipped beneath the surface of thought. There, within the darkness of his body, he saw it. A crimson ember glowing at the base of his spine.Still. Silent. Yet infinitely dense.
The Root.
"Kiran…" Aryan murmured, sweat forming at his temple, "It's there. I see it. A gate… a seal."
Kiran sat opposite him, eyes closed now, trying to follow. The energy wasn't just heat. It felt like truth—not something to be bent or conjured, but something remembered.
As Aryan focused, the ember responded, pulsing to the rhythm of his breath. Suddenly, it cracked. Light spread like roots, spiraling upward. His body jerked—not in pain, but in deep shock—as if a thousand weights had been lifted from his bones.
The first chakra had opened.
The rocks around the cliff's edge gave a subtle tremor, pebbles skittering as if startled by an unseen heartbeat.
Kiran snapped to attention, eyes wide, watching as the ground shifted not cracked but pulsed, like the Earth exhaled for the first time in centuries.
From Aryan's body, a faint outline of earthen dust and golden energy coiled upward, spiraling around him like roots reaching for sky.
He opened his eyes slowly.
"I can feel the Earth," he said. "It's listening."
"We have figured it out" Aryan said.
"It's around us—all of it. The energy. The flow. It's been waiting. And now… we know how to listen." Aryan said while laughing.
In that moment, the world seemed to lean in.
From deep within, something ancient emerged not a spell, not a gift, but something born with him. His breath shook as a new instinct flooded his senses: a pull toward balance, structure, and deep connection.
But he didn't name it. He didn't understand it fully. All he knew was this: he could feel the design of the world. The flow of energy across rock and root. The alignment of stones. The strength hidden within patterns.
Aryan stood slowly. His fists clenched. "I know where I must step… to never fall."
"You felt it?" Aryan asked, rushing over.
Kiran breathed hard, then nodded.
Aryan helped him sit. "The base. That's where it starts."
"The base?"
"Root," Aryan said. "The first chakra. That's what the lotus meant."
"The Earth Chakra that's what it is it grands has control over the Earth and over our emotion" Aryan said while controlling a few rocks.
Kiran looked off into the forest. "So we're unlocking ourselves now?"
Aryan didn't reply. His eyes were lost in the horizon.
"No," he said finally. "We're unlocking what we were always meant to be."
---
That night, after Aryan had drifted to sleep, Kiran sat alone beside the fire. The silence wrapped around him like a thick cloak no wind, no night-birds, only the crackling wood and the soft hush of distant leaves.
He didn't chant. He didn't draw symbols. He just closed his eyes and breathed.
At first, nothing. Then a pull, faint but undeniable. Like something under the surface of the Earth was rising to meet him.
A coiling warmth stirred in his core, less like peace and more like tension poised to spring. His breath deepened. The fire flickered, casting red shadows across his face.
As he absorbed it, he felt a surge. Not lightness, but power. His body felt heavier, yes but stronger, like stone ready to be hurled. His senses sharpened, instincts flaring like a predator at dusk.
It was not Aryan's gentle earth. It was something wilder. More restless.
In his mind's eye, he saw not a blooming lotus but a twisting flame, orange-red and coiling, hissing against unseen bonds.
A whisper echoed not in words, but in sensation.
Move. Strike. Break.
And far below the roots of the world, something stirred in response. Something curious. Something ancient. Something that recognized him not as a monk...but as a weapon.
---
End of Chapter 4
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