The Ashvathar estate carried a strange tension that morning—a quiet hum beneath every surface, like the world had leaned a little too close during the night. Even the wind felt cautious, slipping through the courtyard as if afraid to disturb something important.
Arav sat cross-legged on the grass, palms resting on his knees.
He had slept well, but not deeply. Each time thunder pulsed somewhere far away, his flame stirred in response, nudging him awake like an overeager friend.
Aaryan stood a short distance away, watching him with the careful patience of a man guarding both a child and a secret.
"Ready?" Aaryan asked.
"I think so," Arav said.
He wasn't sure.
He inhaled gently, guiding warmth from his chest to his palm.
The flame appeared—quiet, obedient.
Good.
But Arav didn't want to stop at "good."
He needed control, not luck.
He tried again.
The flame shrank.
He nudged it.
It grew by a hair.
Sharanya approached with soft steps, her presence settling the air around them.
"Not too fast," she reminded him. "Your flame listens too well."
Arav focused.
He began shaping the fire, inch by inch—thinner, smaller—
And then it slipped.
The flame jumped, flickering into a narrow arc that nearly brushed his wrist.
Aaryan moved instantly, steadying the flow with a gesture.
Arav exhaled shakily. "I didn't mean to push it."
"You didn't," Aaryan said. "It pushed itself. That's what we're working on."
Sharanya knelt beside him. "Your flame is enthusiastic."
Arav made a face. "Enthusiastic is not the problem. Enthusiastic is what Isha is. My flame is… stubborn."
As if on cue, Isha marched toward them, wearing a new flower crown—crooked, half torn, proudly displayed.
"Bhaiya! Your flame made a funny shape!" she announced to the world.
"It did a bendy-wiggly dance!"
Arav groaned into his hands.
"Isha, please stop talking about the flame like it's a pet…"
"It is a pet," she declared. "It listens to you and it misbehaves when it is hungry."
Sharanya bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
Aaryan looked away, pretending he wasn't smiling.
Arav, mortified, whispered, "It's not a pet. It's a problem."
"No," Sharanya corrected softly. "It's potential."
Arav absorbed that word quietly.
Potential.
---
Later that day, Aaryan expanded the training area's reinforcement lines. New aether-conductive stones were placed in precise intervals, glowing faintly as they synchronized with the estate's barrier net.
Arav helped carry the smaller ones—mostly to feel useful, partially to distract himself from the pressure building inside him.
The distortions hadn't reappeared yet that day.
But the air still felt tight with promise.
As the last stone clicked into place, Arav felt something… shift.
A faint tug.
A whisper.
As if the world had decided to poke him again.
His flame stirred.
His fingers tingled.
Before he realized it, he had drawn a small line of fire between his fingertips—a thin thread stretching like silk.
Aaryan stiffened.
Sharanya inhaled sharply.
"Arav," she said carefully, "don't pull it."
"I'm not!" Arav protested.
The fire-thread wavered, shimmering like delicate glass.
Aaryan moved closer, voice low. "Let it go. Breathe."
Arav swallowed, trying.
The thread trembled.
It thinned—
Almost vanished—
And then snapped with a soft crackle, dispersing into the air.
No distortion followed.
Sharanya's shoulders dropped with relief.
Aaryan nodded approvingly.
"That was better," he said. "You stopped it before it turned wild."
Arav blinked. "I… did?"
"You did," Sharanya said warmly.
For the first time in days, Arav felt something other than pressure.
He felt proud.
---
POV — Elder Varun
Varun studied the newest readings on the resonance charts. The flame signature had fluctuated sharply—dangerously—but stabilized before danger.
That meant the child was learning.
That meant the father was involved.
Good.
But also… problematic.
If Aaryan strengthened the boy too quickly, monitoring would become impossible.
Varun tapped the projection, narrowing the flame's waveform.
The thunder child's spike appeared on the chart shortly after.
Two rising storms.
"History never grants balance freely," he murmured.
He closed the panel and began drafting his report.
---
Back at the estate, Arav practiced again as dusk painted the sky.
This time he didn't push anything.
He simply breathed.
The flame hovered above his hand like a warm heartbeat.
He whispered to it, not commanding, not bending—just speaking.
"We're going to figure this out… together, okay?"
The flame pulsed gently, as if answering.
His chest tightened—not with fear, but with something steady.
Aether stirred but didn't surge.
He exhaled slowly.
For the first time, the world felt less like it was pushing him…
and more like it was listening.
A soft chime echoed in his mind.
[Control milestone achieved.]
[Behavioral response: Host demonstrates early stabilization capability.]
[System advice: Maintain current pace.]
Arav smiled faintly.
For today, control was enough.
Tomorrow, he would try again.
He always did.
Somewhere far away, thunder flickered.
But the flame stayed quiet.
And for tonight—that was victory.