They left the mountain the same way they had lived upon it.
Quietly.
There was no farewell ritual, no final look back meant to seal memory into drama. Packs were lifted. Footing found. Breath settled. The narrow path descended through mist and stone exactly as it always had.
The mountain did not acknowledge their departure.
And none of them expected it to.
Rishi Vedananda walked ahead, staff tapping lightly against stone, pace unchanged. The triplets followed without hurry. Their steps were slower than when they had arrived months earlier—not from fatigue, but from certainty. Each footfall landed cleanly. No slips. No corrections made too late.
The air warmed gradually as they descended. Wind softened. The sharp scent of pine gave way to earth and damp leaves. By the time the path leveled, Aditya realized something strange.
He hadn't once cursed the climb.
He frowned faintly at the thought, then let it go.
By midday, the familiar outline of Vyomtara Manor emerged through the thinning trees—stone walls catching the sun, banners stirring gently in the breeze. The sight struck harder than expected.
Not excitement.
Relief.
Sasi slowed unconsciously, posture still straight but breath deeper, fuller. Aryan paused for half a second longer than necessary, eyes tracing the roofline, the courtyard beyond, the place where routine would change again.
They passed through the outer gates without announcement.
The guards recognized them instantly.
Not by authority.
By stillness.
One of them straightened. "They've returned."
The courtyard was already awake.
Duke Varesh stood near the central fountain, hands clasped behind his back, gaze fixed toward the gate as though he had been waiting without admitting it. Duchess Elaria stood a step behind him, fingers folded tightly in her shawl.
Sarvani and Achintya were seated beneath the shade of the eastern arch.
They rose together when the four figures entered.
Elaria moved first.
She did not run.
She crossed the courtyard quickly, steps controlled until they were not. When she reached them, her composure fractured just enough to be human.
She cupped Aditya's face, then Sasi's, then Aryan's—one after another—hands firm, searching.
"You're thinner," she said softly.
Aditya opened his mouth to protest, then stopped. "…Maybe."
She huffed a breath that was half-laugh, half-relief, and pulled him into a brief, fierce embrace. Sasi followed, then Aryan, who returned the hug more fully than he might have months ago.
Varesh approached more slowly.
He studied them—not their faces, but their posture. Their stillness. The way they stood without shifting.
His nod was small.
Satisfied.
"You kept your balance," he said at last.
"Yes, Father," they answered together.
Sarvani smiled, eyes bright. "The mountain did not break you."
Achintya's gaze lingered longer. "No," he murmured. "It finished something."
Rishi Vedananda inclined his head respectfully toward the Duke and Duchess.
"They listened," he said simply. "That was enough."
Varesh stepped forward and bowed.
Deeply.
Not as a ruler.
As a father entrusting, and reclaiming.
"My gratitude, Rishi Vedananda," he said. "You returned them intact."
Rishi tapped his staff lightly against stone. "They arrived that way."
The household stirred back into motion.
Servants moved quietly, bringing water, light food, fresh linens. The triplets were guided inside, though none of them felt particularly tired. Their bodies recognized the ease of stone floors, the absence of wind pressing constantly against skin.
It felt… strange.
Comfortable.
That evening, the family gathered for a meal in the long hall.
Not a feast.
A welcome.
Warm bread. Steamed vegetables. Simple meat. Familiar flavors that did not overwhelm. Aditya ate more slowly than he once would have. Sasi paused between bites. Aryan stopped when full, not when the plate was empty.
Elaria noticed all of it.
She said nothing.
Afterward, as the lamps were lit and the manor settled, Varesh spoke again.
"The Academy will summon you when the time comes," he said, voice steady. "Paths are chosen at twelve, as they have always been."
The words carried no pressure.
Just fact.
"Until then," he continued, "you will return to noble studies. Discipline. Observation. You will not train as you did on the mountain."
Aditya nodded. "Understood."
Sasi inclined his head. "Yes, Father."
Aryan added quietly, "We won't forget what we learned."
Varesh met his gaze. "No," he said. "You won't."
Later, when night had fully settled and Vyomtara lay wrapped in quiet, the triplets stood together on the upper balcony.
The wind here was gentler.
Aditya rested his forearms against the stone railing. "It feels… louder," he said after a moment.
Sasi considered. "No. We're just less noisy inside."
Aryan watched the stars emerge one by one. "The mountain didn't follow us," he said. "But the habit did."
Aditya smiled faintly. "Good. I didn't feel like carrying stone around the Academy."
Sasi exhaled, almost a laugh.
Behind them, Vyomtara Manor stood unchanged.
Ahead, the Academy waited.
Paths would be chosen at twelve.
Techniques learned. Roles defined.
But for now, they had returned not as children who had survived training—
But as students who understood how to stand still while the world moved around them.
And that, quietly, would change everything that came next.