The forest swallowed them whole.
Once the gates of the Academy disappeared behind them, Neel, Leela, and Shanaya walked into a world that felt at once too vast and too quiet. The trees here weren't like the neat courtyards of the Academy grounds; they loomed tall and twisted, scarred by old firestorms, their branches like skeletal hands clawing at the dusk. The path underfoot wasn't paved stone but dirt, broken with roots, slick with moss, and littered with the scent of damp earth. Every step reminded Neel they weren't students anymore. They were exiles.
No one spoke for a long while. Only the rasp of boots against soil, the soft rush of Leela's breath as she struggled to keep pace with her heavy pack, and the faint crackle that clung to Neel like a curse. Sparks popped across his fingertips now and then, the storm within refusing to sleep. Each time, Leela glanced at him quickly, as if to check he hadn't lost control. Shanaya, walking a pace ahead, didn't even bother to hide her smirk whenever she heard the sparks.
At last, Leela broke the silence. Her voice was soft, but it carried in the heavy woods. "We should stop before night falls. This forest isn't safe after dark."
Shanaya tossed her flame-colored hair back, not slowing. "Afraid of the dark, Leela? Or afraid of what he'll do if we sit still long enough?"
Leela stiffened. "I'm afraid of what hunts in shadows. Not everything dangerous is Neel."
That earned a sharp laugh from Shanaya. "Cute. You keep telling yourself that."
Neel clenched his fists. He'd promised himself he wouldn't let their bickering get to him. But the weight of exile, the burning eyes of the Academy still carved into his memory, and the ceaseless whisper of the storm made his patience thin as glass.
"Enough," he muttered, low but harsh. "If you two are going to fight, do it without dragging me into it."
Shanaya arched a brow, amused. "Oh, don't worry. You'll drag us into it soon enough. You always do."
The words stung more than he wanted to admit.
–––
They made camp beside a narrow river, the water running quick and silver under the moon. Leela gathered branches for the fire, murmuring small water spells to strip them of damp. Shanaya lit them with a flick of her finger, fire catching like she was born to command it. Neel sat apart, knees drawn to his chest, staring at the dark water.
The storm whispered louder now, not just in his dreams, but here, in the open night.
"Three chains remain. Hear them rattle. Hear them groan. Break them, child, and the world will kneel."
He squeezed his eyes shut. "Shut up," he hissed under his breath. "Leave me alone."
The river shimmered. His reflection shifted — for a heartbeat, golden serpent eyes glared back at him. His breath caught, and his heart hammered.
Leela's hand touched his shoulder, gentle. "Neel?"
He jerked away, too quickly. "I'm fine."
She didn't believe him. Her eyes said so. But she didn't press. She only sat beside him, close enough that her warmth bled into the cold.
Shanaya's voice cut across the fire. "If he talks to himself much longer, maybe we should chain him up before he decides to set the forest on fire."
"Shanaya—" Leela started, but a sound cut her short.
A low growl.
The hair on Neel's arms rose. His storm prickled like it was answering the growl, like it knew what stalked them.
Leela's eyes widened. "Something's here."
From the shadows between trees, a shape moved. Sleek, low to the ground, eyes glowing like molten stormlight. A cat — no, larger than a cat, heavier, its fur black but veined with streaks of electric blue that pulsed with each breath. Sparks hissed from its paws where they struck the earth.
Shanaya rose in one smooth motion, flames licking across her arms. "Storm Lynx," she muttered. "And by the look of it, it's hunting."
The beast prowled closer, muscles rippling under crackling fur. It snarled, and arcs of lightning snapped across the clearing, searing the ground.
Neel's stomach twisted. It's here for me.
The serpent's whisper chuckled inside his skull. "Even the wild bows to the storm. Do you see, child? They know their Vessel."
"Stay back!" Leela cried, raising her staff. Water shimmered into a wall before them, the river itself bending to her call. The lynx leapt, claws sparking like blades of lightning. It struck the wall — and tore through it, scattering droplets like shattered glass.
Shanaya was there in an instant, flames roaring as she slammed her fist into the lynx's side. Fire exploded against storm-fur, the beast yowled, sparks scattering like shrapnel. But instead of fleeing, it wheeled and lunged again, straight for Neel.
Something inside him snapped.
The storm surged. Lightning burst from his chest in a scream of raw energy, slamming into the beast mid-leap. The air split with thunder. The ground cracked. Trees shuddered.
When the smoke cleared, the lynx crouched low, eyes fixed on him. Not afraid. Not broken. Waiting.
It bowed its head.
For a heartbeat, silence hung heavy.
Shanaya's flames guttered, her eyes wide. "It… bowed."
Leela's staff trembled in her grip. "Why? Why would it—"
The serpent's whisper coiled triumphant in Neel's mind. "Even the wild knows its master. Do you still doubt what you are?"
Neel staggered back, chest heaving. "No… no, this isn't…"
The lynx snarled once, then turned and vanished into the trees, its lightning fading into the dark.
Shanaya's gaze snapped to him, hard and sharp. "See? You are dangerous. Even beasts answer to you."
Leela stepped between them, her voice fierce. "Then we'll protect him. Whatever it takes."
"Protect him?" Shanaya spat. "Or chain him? Because one day, your pretty loyalty won't stop him. And when that day comes, I'll be the one to end him."
Neel said nothing. His reflection still burned in his memory — golden serpent eyes staring back, the lynx bowing to him as though he were its king.
He didn't know what was worse: the serpent's whisper… or the truth in Shanaya's words.
–––
High above, on the ridge, Aarav watched. His fists clenched tight around the hilt of his blade.
"He doesn't even fight for power," he muttered, venom dripping from every word. "And still the world bows to him."
His smile was bitter, sharp as glass.
"Fine. Let the beasts kneel. Soon, I'll show them all how easily a storm can be broken."
–––
After this the forest felt silent again. This time too silent. Even the usual chirps and rustles of night creatures had fled after the sensing big commotion , leaving only the faint hiss of cooling lightning scars burned into the ground.
Leela lowered her staff slowly, her breath ragged. Water still dripped from the air around her, her magic exhausted. Shanaya stood with firelight licking her skin, but her arms trembled as though she'd spent more strength than she wanted to admit. Neel simply stared at the place the lynx had stood, his body rigid, his storm churning louder than ever.
"It bowed," Shanaya said again, her tone disbelieving but edged with fear. "A storm lynx, apex predator of these woods, lowered its head to you."
Leela turned sharply. "He didn't ask for that!"
"Doesn't matter!" Shanaya snapped back. "Beasts don't bow for nothing. It's not respect. It's recognition. Something inside him called to it."
Her words were daggers, and Neel could not deny them. He had felt it — the pull between him and the creature, like a chain snapping taut. For a heartbeat, he had been more than himself. The lynx had looked at him not as prey, not as rival… but as master.
"They will all bow," the serpent whispered, its voice silk and thunder in his skull. "One by one, beast and man alike. The chains weaken, and when the last breaks, none will stand above you."
Neel gritted his teeth until his jaw ached. "Shut up," he hissed, barely realizing he'd spoken aloud.
Leela heard. She knelt beside him, her hand on his shoulder, worry in her eyes. "Neel… what did it say this time?"
His throat closed. He didn't want to tell her. Didn't want her to carry the weight of whispers he could barely endure himself. But Shanaya was watching, eyes like firelit blades, and something inside him broke.
"It told me they'll all bow. Not just beasts. Everyone."
Leela's breath caught. Shanaya's jaw tightened. The silence that followed was heavier than any thunder.
Finally, Shanaya stepped closer, her flame-shadow flickering across Neel's face. "Then that settles it. You're not just dangerous. You're a threat to the world. And one day, I'll be forced to prove it."
Leela sprang up, fury in her voice. "No. One day, he'll prove you wrong."
The two girls glared at each other, fire and water bristling like storm fronts colliding. Neel couldn't stand it. He lurched to his feet, turning away.
"I don't need either of you fighting over what I am," he muttered, his voice raw. "I don't even know myself."
He walked to the riverbank, dropping to his knees. The water shimmered dark and strange, the reflection that met him warped. Not his own face — but golden serpent eyes, watching. Waiting.
Leela's voice called after him softly. "Neel… whatever this is, you're not alone. Don't forget that."
Shanaya said nothing. But when Neel glanced back, her eyes were locked on him with something fiercer than hatred — it was recognition. Rivalry, yes. Fear, yes. But something more. A vow.
–––
From the treeline, unseen, Aarav watched still. His blade glinted in the faint firelight.
"They fear you," he whispered to the night. "And yet they stay. Pathetic." His lips twisted into a cruel smile. "Let them cling to their storm. When it devours them, I'll be there to sweep the ashes."
He melted back into the dark, leaving only silence and the faint, lingering hiss of thunder.
–––