"Healing deepens when you stop gripping the past like a lifeline."
The new corridor was narrow and dark—not menacing, just empty of the soft, warm resonance that had followed him until now.
Aarav felt the shift immediately.
This wasn't another confrontation with fear or regret.
This wasn't reflection, memory, burden, or consequence.
This was want.
He felt it in the air like a held note.
Meera walked beside him, quiet, uneasy.
Amar's hand hovered near his blade.
Arin's staff flickered, unable to settle on a read.
Older Aarav slowed his steps, as if recognizing something deeply personal in the silence.
The boy pressed close to Aarav's side, as if sensing something bigger than all of them.
The King said nothing.
That alone was warning enough.
The corridor ended at a door of light.
Not glowing.
Not humming.
Waiting.
Aarav reached out—
and the door didn't open.
Instead, the light rippled away from his touch, as though rejecting him.
Aarav frowned.
"I don't understand."
Arin stepped forward, voice hushed.
"This door isn't locked.
It's unclaimed."
Aarav blinked.
"Claimed how?"
"The Vale doesn't open doors of desire," Arin said, "unless the person in front of it acknowledges what they want."
Aarav stiffened.
"What I want? I've chosen my direction."
Arin shook his head.
"That wasn't want.
That was intention.
This is different."
Meera stepped forward, softening her voice.
"Aarav… this one is personal."
Aarav's throat tightened.
"What does it want me to say?"
The King finally spoke.
"Your answer."
"To what question?"
He met Aarav's gaze.
"To the one you've avoided since you entered the Vale."
Aarav took a slow breath.
"I've answered a lot of questions."
"Not this one," the King said.
Aarav stepped closer to the door.
The light rippled again—
not rejecting him,
not pushing him away,
but waiting.
He swallowed.
The room around him dimmed slightly, the corridor drawing focus to the single, quiet truth in front of him.
Aarav whispered:
"Okay.
Then what do I want?"
Nothing answered.
Because the door wasn't going to tell him.
Meera stepped beside him.
"You don't have to say it to us. Just say it."
Aarav bowed his head.
He tried to speak.
Tried again.
Nothing came.
There were wants he could list instantly:
He wanted to survive.
He wanted peace.
He wanted his people safe.
He wanted to keep growing without breaking.
He wanted meaning.
He wanted connection.
He'd said most of those before.
And the door stayed closed.
Aarav whispered:
"…that's not it."
Older Aarav's voice softened.
"You know what it is."
Aarav closed his eyes.
He dug deeper—
past fear,
past burden,
past the storms,
past the memory of being small and terrified,
past the regret of abandoning himself,
past the reflection of who he was becoming.
What was left?
What he wanted
when no test demanded it,
no chamber forced it,
no echo reflected it.
A quiet truth surfaced.
Soft.
Raw.
Young.
Aarav opened his eyes.
"I want to belong."
The door glowed faintly—
but didn't open.
Aarav inhaled.
He felt another truth beneath the first.
A deeper one.
A more painful one.
"I want to be held," he whispered, voice cracking.
"Not as a responsibility.
Not as a symbol.
Not as someone to be fixed or carried."
He swallowed hard.
"I want to be held because someone wants to.
Because I matter to them.
Not because I'm useful."
The door brightened—
but didn't open.
Aarav shivered.
"There's more."
His vision blurred.
"I want a place where I don't have to be strong all the time."
Meera's breath hitched.
The boy hugged his arm tighter.
Aarav looked at the door.
And finally said the thing he'd never dared say in any chamber, any mirror, any moment of fear or clarity:
"I want a life that's allowed to be gentle."
The door heard him.
The chamber filled with a soft, golden warmth.
Aarav felt the world breathe with him.
The King whispered:
"Now say the rest."
Aarav's heart pounded.
The want he'd been avoiding.
The want he'd been afraid to claim.
The want that felt selfish, frightening, tender, human.
He stepped closer to the door.
Placed a shaking hand on the light.
And whispered:
"I want a future that loves me back."
The door shattered into brightness—
silent, instant, absolute.
The path beyond opened.
Meera's hand found his.
Not as comfort.
Not as guidance.
But as recognition.
He squeezed her hand back.
The King's voice followed him as he stepped through:
"Desire spoken is the beginning of a new self.
Walk carefully now."
Aarav nodded.
And entered the doorway
with the truth of what he wanted finally unhidden.
"He loosened his hold, and the world steadied him instead."