The inner sanctum of the Aathirai estate was rarely entered, even by high-ranking disciples. It was a place of ancient flame, buried debts, and unspoken oaths.
Tonight, Velan walked through it alone.
Two hours earlier, a black scroll had arrived in his barracks. Unmarked. No seal. No name. Only a line written in charcoal:
> Come alone. Do not speak. Do not be seen.
The shadows do not repeat themselves.
He had obeyed.
The path wound through the back halls of the Flame Archive, down spiraled stairs dusted with age. At the base was a single obsidian door, pulsing faintly with red veins. When Velan touched it, the door opened without a sound.
Inside, he found Thuraiyaar.
Clad in deep ember robes. Hair tied high in the style of the First Flame Lineage. Eyes like smoldering coal beneath heavy brows.
"You've learned faster than expected," Thuraiyaar said, pouring himself tea. "Sit."
Velan sat. Cautiously. No guards. No elders. Just the man whose word could end lives with a whisper.
"You passed the Trial," Thuraiyaar continued. "You mastered the first step of the Naarkuri Nadai. And now… you've caught the attention of things you don't yet see."
Velan kept silent.
"You were born without a name. Without legacy. A servant child. But the relic you awakened... that was no accident. The system inside you—Anaiyaal—is not a relic. It is a prisoner."
Velan stiffened. "What do you mean?"
Thuraiyaar leaned forward, eyes sharp. "Anaiyaal was once the Divine Engine of the Heavenly Demon Cult — a celestial spirit forged to create the perfect warrior."
Velan blinked. "Heavenly Demon… cult?"
"A myth, to most." Thuraiyaar's voice dropped lower. "But I knew a man long ago. He carried that same mark on his throat. And he nearly burned this world down."
A long pause.
"I knew because… I was the one who hunted him."
Velan's mouth went dry.
"But I failed," Thuraiyaar admitted. "He vanished. His body turned to ash. But not his spirit. The Aathirai sealed his remains beneath the estate, thinking the danger was gone."
"But it wasn't," Velan whispered.
Thuraiyaar nodded.
> "It was waiting. For someone compatible. Someone desperate. Someone like you."
---
The fire behind Thuraiyaar flared gently, casting shadows against the wall. In their flicker, Velan saw something impossible:
A silhouette of himself—taller, older, with eyes like flame and shadows for hair.
He turned away.
"I don't want to become a monster," he said.
Thuraiyaar chuckled. "Too late."
Then his tone turned grave. "But if you're going to carry that burden, Velan… you need to be trained properly. Not like a disciple."
Velan raised his head.
Thuraiyaar poured him tea. "I want to offer you a secret position. Shadow Disciple."
Velan frowned. "That's not… part of the hierarchy."
"It was erased centuries ago," Thuraiyaar said. "Only three disciples have ever worn the mark. All of them wielded powers beyond clan rules."
Velan stared into the cup. "Why me?"
Thuraiyaar's voice softened. "Because I see a war coming. And when it arrives, we'll need a blade that can strike from beneath the fire, not just above it."
He slid a ring across the table. Black iron, engraved with a hidden flame inside a crescent moon.
"The training will be deadly. You will be hated by both light and dark. And if you stray…" He leaned forward. "I will end you myself."
Velan picked up the ring.
It was warm.
Alive.
And for the first time, something inside him answered without fear.
"I accept."
---
🔥 That night, beneath the cliffs…
Velan stood on the jagged edges of the waterfall cavern, where old disciples once fought spirit beasts for entry.
He wasn't there to fight.
He was there to begin.
The wind howled. His collar mark glowed. And beneath the surface of the water, something ancient stirred—drawn to the ring now on his finger.
Anaiyaal's voice returned.
> "The first path is clear. Shadow within flame. The second… begins now."
And just behind the mist, a pair of glowing red eyes opened.
---
End of Chapter 6