The tension in the cave was palpable as the group of young initiates stood in silence, their eyes darting nervously from one another. Karan, still recovering from his Awakening, leaned against the wall, his breathing heavy but steady. The altar, faintly glowing and pulsing with raw energy, seemed to loom over them, a constant reminder of what lay ahead. No one wanted to speak, yet everyone was thinking the same thing: Who would go next?
Sachin, ever the one to break the silence, whispered loudly, "Alright, any bets on who's next? Because if it's me, I'd like to formally protest."
Mira gave him a flat look. "Do you ever stop talking?"
"Talking keeps me alive," Sachin shot back, though the nervous edge in his voice betrayed his bravado.
Arun, standing slightly apart from the others, clenched his fists. His sharp eyes moved from the altar to the glowing Beast Cores and finally to the elders, who were murmuring quietly among themselves. His mind raced with unease. Mira's tough, but this ritual… it's unpredictable. What if something goes wrong? His jaw tightened as he pushed the thought away. No. She'll be fine. She has to be.
Kaelan stepped forward, his imposing figure commanding immediate attention. The murmuring stopped, and all eyes turned to him. He let the silence stretch for a moment before speaking.
"Mira," he said, his voice steady and firm. "You're next."
Mira's expression barely changed, though her shoulders straightened slightly, and her eyes flickered with a brief, unreadable emotion. She glanced at Arun for a fleeting moment, her gaze holding his. The look was quick, but it made Arun's chest tighten. What is she thinking? Is she scared? Or is it something else entirely? Arun wasn't sure, but he met her eyes and gave her a small nod.
"Good luck, Mira," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. But inside, his thoughts betrayed his calm exterior. I hope she survives. I really do. I can't imagine losing someone like her—not after everything.
Mira turned away without a word, walking confidently toward the altar. The glowing platform's light cast an eerie glow on her determined features as she stopped in front of Elder Oviya, who held the small wooden box containing the First Tier Beast Cores.
As Mira reached out to take the core, Sachin leaned toward Arun and muttered, "Is it just me, or does she look way too calm? Like, terrifyingly calm. Should I be worried?"
Arun shot him a sidelong glance. "Sachin, maybe don't ruin the moment?"
"I'm not ruining it; I'm providing commentary," Sachin whispered back. "It's a public service."
Before Arun could respond, Kaelan stepped forward, standing beside Mira. His presence immediately silenced any further whispers from Sachin or anyone else.
"Focus," Kaelan said, his voice low but powerful. "The Beast Core will push you to your limits, but you are capable of overcoming it. Remember your training. Channel the energy, control it, and make it your own."
Mira nodded, her expression unreadable. She held the core in her hands, the faint glow reflecting in her dark, intelligent eyes. Arun watched intently as she tilted her head back and swallowed the core in one swift motion.
The reaction was immediate. Mira's body stiffened, her legs buckling slightly as the wild, untamed energy of the Beast Core surged through her. The glowing symbols on the platform brightened, and the faint hum that filled the air grew louder, more intense.
Arun's heart raced as he watched her fall to her knees, her hands gripping the ground as if anchoring herself. Come on, Mira. You can do this. You're stronger than this. You've always been stronger than you let on.
Kaelan stepped closer, his hands glowing faintly as he began to channel Aether to steady the violent flow of energy. The elders joined him, forming a circle around Mira as her body convulsed. Her head snapped back, and a guttural cry tore from her throat, filling the cavern with a sound that made Arun's stomach churn. He hated feeling so helpless, standing on the sidelines while his friend fought for her life.
Sachin, despite his usual humor, looked genuinely concerned. "Uh… okay, is it just me, or is this worse than Karan's? Should we… I don't know… do something?"
"Do what?" Arun snapped, his eyes never leaving Mira. "Stand there and talk until she feels better?"
"Rude," Sachin muttered, though he stayed quiet after that.
Meanwhile, Vedan leaned slightly toward Kaelan, his voice low but audible. "She's struggling, but her resolve is clear. If she can hold on a little longer…"
"She will," Kaelan said firmly, his hands steady as he poured Aether into the stabilizing ritual. "Mira is not one to give up."
Mira's P.O.V
As the storm of raw energy tore through me, I felt as though every fiber of my being was being stretched, pulled, and twisted beyond its limits. My body screamed in pain, but somewhere beyond the agony, my mind clung to thoughts—fragments of memories and feelings that kept me tethered, kept me from giving in.
I thought of Arun.
I remember the first time I met him. I was only five years old, and already the odd one out in the group of children who lived and played in our small, insular tribe. They didn't know what to make of me—always asking questions, always poking at things and wondering how they worked. My mother called me "sharp," but the other kids just thought I was weird. And I started to believe it too. Over time, their laughter and whispers turned into something heavier, something that made me shrink away from them, from everyone. Being alone wasn't so bad—it meant not being judged.
And then Arun came. He was younger than me, barely four, but he acted like someone who had lived a hundred years. While other kids were learning how to climb trees or fish, he was sketching shapes in the dirt and muttering to himself about ideas that didn't make any sense. I thought I was strange, but this boy? He made me look downright normal.
I still remember that day so clearly. I had been sitting under the shade of a tree, fiddling with some sticks and stones, trying to craft something vaguely useful—though I had no idea what it would be yet. Out of nowhere, this wiry little boy with messy hair and sharp, curious eyes plopped down in front of me, watching me like he was inspecting a new discovery.
"You're weird," he said, blunt as anything.
I bristled, my fingers tightening around the stick in my hand. "Says the weirdest boy I've ever seen."
To my surprise, he didn't get offended. He grinned—a grin so confident it made me blink. "Good. We weird ones need to stick together." Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he extended his hand to me. "Mira, right? I'm Arun. I've decided you'll be my subordinate."
I stared at him, completely flabbergasted. "Your what?"
"My subordinate," he repeated, like it was obvious. "I'm going to be the tribe leader one day, and every great leader needs good subordinates. You're smart, like me. You can be my first one."
He was ridiculous. Bold. Absolutely, undeniably strange. But for the first time in what felt like forever, someone didn't look at me like I was too much or too different. He didn't try to push me away. In fact, he wanted me to be a part of something—his something. Against all logic, I found myself nodding. "Fine. But I'm not taking orders from you."
His grin widened. "We'll see about that."
From that day on, Arun became a constant presence in my life. At first, I thought he was just amusing—a little boy with big dreams and no filter. But over time, I realized there was so much more to him. He wasn't just strange; he was brilliant. His ideas, no matter how wild or impractical, had a spark of something... something I couldn't help but admire. And the more time we spent together, the less alone I felt. It was like he saw through the walls I'd built around myself, and instead of judging me, he invited me to tear them down.
Years passed, and we grew. Arun never stopped coming up with his plans and schemes, and I never stopped poking holes in them—just to see him figure out how to fix them. We became a team, even if we didn't always say it out loud. And somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, I started to care about him. Not just as a friend or a partner in mischief, but as... something more. He made me laugh when I wanted to cry, challenged me when I felt stuck, and reminded me that being different wasn't something to be ashamed of.
But I never said any of this out loud. Maybe because I didn't fully understand it myself. Or maybe because I was afraid of what it meant. All I knew was that Arun was... Arun. And that was enough.
As the pain of the Awakening surged again, I clenched my fists, focusing on those memories, those feelings. Arun's voice echoed in my mind—his quiet "Good luck" before I stepped onto the altar, the steady confidence in his eyes when he looked at me. He believed in me. He always had.
And it wasn't just him. I thought of Travis's jokes, as annoying as they were, and how they always lightened the mood, even now. I thought of Kiran's steady presence, his quiet strength that balanced us out. I thought of all the moments we'd shared as a group—the teasing, the arguments, the triumphs. They were more than friends. They were my family.
I can't let them down. I won't.
The storm of energy inside me roared, but I dug my heels in, gripping tightly to those memories, those connections. Arun's grin. Travis's banter. Kiran's steady gaze. My mother's warm smile. They gave me strength. They reminded me of who I was—not just some girl trying to survive, but someone who mattered. Someone who could endure this, no matter how much it hurt.
I won't let this beat me. I'll survive. For them. For myself. For Arun.
And with that thought burning in my mind, I pushed back against the overwhelming tide of Aether, finding a rhythm, a balance. Slowly but surely, the chaos began to settle, and the pain began to ebb. The light around me dimmed, leaving behind a steady glow.
When I opened my eyes, the world felt sharper, clearer. I was alive. I had survived. And as I met Arun's gaze across the platform, I felt something shift inside me—a quiet realization I wasn't ready to face just yet.
But for now, it was enough to know I had made it.