The communal changing room was simple, spartan. Deva and Shakti, accustomed to a life of less luxury or more direct, unadorned practicality, quickly shed their travel-worn clothes, donning the loose, comfortable training robes provided by the Institution. Their movements were fluid, unhesitant, ready to embrace the next step. Deva paused, however, noticing Nitin's unusual reluctance. The knight, usually so direct, seemed to hesitate, his back turned, his shoulders stiff.
"What's wrong, Nitin?" Deva asked, his voice gentle, devoid of judgment. "Why aren't you changing?"
Nitin quickly averted his gaze, a flicker of something unreadable – shame? fear? – passing through his eyes before he schooled his features into a forced casualness. "You two go ahead," he said, his voice a little too quick, a little too loud. "I just… need to use the bathroom. I'll be there in a moment." Deva, sensing his discomfort but respecting his space, simply nodded. "Alright, but hurry. We don't want to keep Guru Brahman waiting." As Deva and Shakti left, their footsteps echoing down the corridor, Nitin quickly shed his outer garments.
Revealed on his back were faint, yet disturbing, marks – a swirling, complex pattern that seemed almost like old script or intricate scars, but infused with a subtle, disquieting shimmer. They were faint now, almost translucent, but in certain lights, they pulsed with a barely perceptible violet hue. These were the marks he'd hidden since childhood, the source of his deepest insecurities, the physical manifestation of every whispered doubt and failure he'd ever felt. He quickly donned the loose training robes, pulling them tightly around him, obscuring the marks from view once more, a secret held tightly within the folds of fabric. He then rushed into the training hall, a forced cheerfulness in his voice. "Sorry, Guru-ji! Just had to use the bathroom. No need for the nitro boost!" It was a lame joke, an old habit to deflect, but it served its purpose.
Darkness descended upon the vast meditation hall, thick and absolute, save for the single, flickering lamp (candle , diya) placed before each of the three heroes. The air grew still, heavy with anticipation. Guru Brahman's voice resonated through the space, calm and commanding, yet vibrating with an unseen power that touched their very souls. "Now, you three will meditate. Find the calm within yourselves. Reach inward, and awaken the power that slumbers. You will remain in this state until I return."
Nitin closed his eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath. He tried to clear his mind, to find the stillness Guru Brahman spoke of. But the darkness within him was vast, empty, not peaceful, but oppressive. A voice, insidious and familiar, yet amplified by the eerie silence, whispered from the void, an echo of his own deepest fears. "You are nothing but a failure. Everything you've touched, you've broken. Your kingdom, your honour, your family... all gone because of your weakness."
He saw himself drowning, not in water, but in an endless, suffocating sea of black despair. The cold pressed in on him, the weight of his inadequacies pushing him deeper, pulling him down. Memories flashed: a missed parry that cost a battle, a hasty decision that led to ruin, a word left unsaid, a promise unkept. "I could never be a good son, or a brother, or even a friend," he thought, his spirit sinking, the overwhelming sense of worthlessness consuming him. "I am nothing but a failure. Maybe I truly am not meant for this. Maybe I am not able to do anything right." The voice grew louder, mocking, echoing the very thoughts he battled his entire life.
But then, from the deepest abyss of his despair, a tiny spark. It was the blue light of his sword, not physical, but an inner glow, a flicker of defiance. A memory of the serpent in the cave, its ancient, knowing gaze. A flash of Kapil's unwavering belief. And a surge, a primal scream of refusal that erupted from the very core of his being. No. He would not drown. He would not break. This power, this destiny, was his.
The light swelled, pushing back the oppressive darkness, becoming a radiant sun within his mind. The whispers of failure shattered, replaced by a silent, undeniable hum of elemental power. His eyes snapped open. The hall was as it was, the lamps flickering, but the air felt charged, vibrant. Deva and Shakti were still deep in their trance, perfectly still. Guru Brahman was nowhere to be seen. Nitin pushed himself up, his body tingling with a new, profound energy. "What… what happened here?" he whispered, his voice hoarse, disoriented by the magnitude of what he had just experienced. Deva, stirring and opening his eyes, looked at him, a mixture of awe and exhaustion etched on his face. "You've been sitting like that for the last three hours, Nitin," Deva said, his voice filled with wonder. "Perfectly still. We just woke up." The words hung in the air, a testament to Nitin's profound awakening, a silent promise of the power that now surged beneath his skin.
D.Nitin