Night fell over Bhairavgarh like a veil of obsidian. Arav sat atop a stone terrace, watching torches flicker across the city. Beside him, the ring shimmered.
Then—light burst from it.
The ring spirit appeared again, hovering like a moonlit ghost.
"You've passed Fire Root. But to survive the trials, you must learn to weave."
"Weave what?" Arav asked.
"Mantras and will. Intention and breath. Fire is wild. You must guide it."
She floated closer, and for the first time, her form solidified. Long silver hair, pale skin, glowing eyes—ethereal and beautiful.
"I was once like you," she said. "Young. Alone. Searching."
Arav studied her. "What happened?"
"I failed the weave. I became spirit."
A pause.
Then she touched his forehead. "But I chose you. And I'll see you through."
The moment her fingers touched his skin, visions exploded—mountains burning, oceans chanting, temples rising from sand.
Arav collapsed, trembling. A single word echoed in his mind: "Avanitra."