The Ashvathar estate felt more alive than usual. Not loud… but attentive.
Servants whispered in corners.
Guards exchanged glances when they thought children weren't looking.
Every breeze seemed to carry a question no one dared ask aloud.
Arav felt all of it.
He didn't know whether to feel proud or terrified.
Maybe both.
He walked toward the training circle, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Today was supposed to be simple—more control practice, maybe an attempt at flame shaping again if his parents thought it safe.
But the moment he stepped into the courtyard, he noticed something different.
A dozen small banners—lightweight, marked with clan sigils—had been placed at the far edges.
They weren't decorative.
They were observers.
Aaryan waited inside the circle, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Sharanya stood behind him, her usual warmth shadowed by worry she tried to hide.
Arav hesitated.
"...Why are the flags out?"
Aaryan didn't answer immediately.
Sharanya stepped forward, kneeling to Arav's level.
"Some clans monitor the airwaves for anomalies. After your awakening, our estate has been receiving… attention."
Arav grimaced. "Because of the flame?"
"And the distortions," Sharanya added gently. "They've left traces. Even when small, they ripple farther than you think."
Arav swallowed. "Am I making trouble?"
"No," she said firmly. "But the world does notice loud children."
Aaryan finally spoke. "Today we reinforce your identity. You are not a phenomenon. You are not a breach. You are Arav Ashvathar. That name must carry weight."
Arav's shoulders straightened instinctively.
Aaryan rarely said things like that—not because he didn't believe them, but because he saved his words for when they mattered most.
"And if anyone questions that," Aaryan continued, "they will have to question me first."
Sharanya added softly, "Or me."
Arav's chest warmed more than any flame could manage.
"I won't embarrass the name," he murmured.
Sharanya kissed his forehead.
"You could never."
---
Training began in silence.
Aaryan drew a circle on the ground—a ring of powdered stone infused with aether markers. When activated, the circle would show even the smallest distortions.
"Step inside."
Arav did.
He felt the quiet pressure of the circle wrap around him. It wasn't restrictive… but attentive.
Aaryan's voice was low.
"Light the flame."
Arav inhaled.
Warmth collected.
Fire flickered into existence on his palm—small, bright, loyal.
The circle stayed still.
"Now shape it."
Arav gently coaxed the flame taller—then thinner—then broader.
Each movement was subtle, like convincing a cat to sit on command.
The circle flickered faintly underneath him.
But it didn't react wildly.
Sharanya whispered, "Good…"
Aaryan raised a hand. "Try splitting it."
Arav blinked. "Splitting?"
"Divide that flame into two. Evenly."
He had never tried that.
But he trusted his father.
He trusted himself—today, at least.
He focused.
The flame stretched…
wavered…
bent…
A faint line formed in the center—
And the flame split cleanly into two small flickering lights, hovering just above his palms.
The circle glowed once—acknowledging aether movement—but didn't flare.
Arav gasped.
Sharanya clasped her hands to her mouth, overjoyed.
Aaryan's eyes softened a fraction.
"Good. Again."
Arav's confidence built with each try.
Split.
Merge.
Split.
Merge.
Each time smoother than the last.
By the eighth repetition, Arav was grinning—wide and bright.
"I'm doing it! It's working!"
Sharanya clapped softly.
Aaryan nodded once, which for him was equivalent to a standing ovation.
Arav lifted his palms again to make the flame dance—
Then the world shivered.
Just once.
Barely visible.
But enough to freeze every adult in place.
A tiny distortion bloomed around Arav like a soap bubble—gentle, thin, harmless.
But undeniably there.
Arav's flame flickered.
His fingers trembled.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Something else.
Recognition.
Because somewhere far away—
thunder responded.
Aaryan was at his side instantly.
"Hold steady. Don't pull the flame in. Let it settle."
Arav forced a breath.
Sharanya touched his back.
The distortion softened…
thinned…
and dissolved quietly into the circle.
No flare.
No crack.
No harm.
Just a whisper.
Arav opened his eyes slowly.
Aaryan exhaled.
Sharanya's shoulders relaxed.
"You handled that," she said softly. "On your own."
Arav stared at his hands, stunned.
"I… didn't lose control."
"You claimed it," Aaryan corrected. "That is what it means to be Ashvathar."
Arav's chest swelled with something fierce and proud.
His flame responded with a gentle flicker—like it agreed.
---
POV — A Clan Guard (Unlabeled, Brief)
Two guards murmured at the courtyard's edge.
"Did you see that? The young master suppressed a distortion without the patriarch even touching him."
"At four years old…"
"Should we report—?"
"No. The Patriarch already knows. And if he doesn't want the elders involved yet, we follow that."
"What if the other child—?"
"Not our concern. Our duty is here."
They fell silent as Aaryan's gaze swept across them. No one challenged his decisions—not after what happened the previous day.
---
Back in the circle, Arav wiped sweat from his brow.
Sharanya kissed the top of his head.
"I'm proud of you."
Arav glowed.
Aaryan placed a hand on his shoulder—not harsh, not demanding… grounding.
"You grew today. Not in power. In ownership."
Arav nodded quietly.
Thunder hummed in the distance.
His flame stirred faintly.
But it did not flare.
He stood a little taller.
When he whispered his name to himself—
soft, steady, determined—
"Arav Ashvathar."
The flame didn't answer this time.
It saluted.