The morning light had shifted—brighter now, more direct—but under the banyan tree, the shadows still lingered like questions left unanswered.
Aarav sat silently, his knees drawn up, forearms resting across them. He hadn't moved since the guide's last words. Something in him had settled, but not comfortably.
The guide reached into the folds of his tattered robe. Slowly, he pulled out a small object—dull, round, and earthen.
A stone.
He placed it between them.
Aarav frowned.
"It's just a rock."
The guide didn't answer. His eyes held something between mischief and mercy.
Aarav looked down at the stone again. It was unremarkable—coarse, weathered, heavy.
But it felt… right. Like it belonged here.
He waited for the guide to explain. None came.
So he spoke instead.
"I want to learn," he said. "Not just the visions. Not just… whatever power Ajna offers."
The guide's expression didn't change.
"I want to learn how to be. Like you."
At this, the guide smiled—but not with his mouth. His eyes softened, as though he had been waiting.
Then, he nodded toward the stone.
"Pick it up."
Aarav reached forward, hesitant, and lifted the stone into his hand. It was heavier than it looked—its weight simple, honest. Not sharp. Not cruel. Just… real.
He looked up. "What is it?"
The guide's voice was quiet.
"Everything you've missed."
Aarav blinked. The guide went on:
"You reached for the sky before you understood the earth. You lit your Third Eye before your feet could rest. You tried to speak truth"—his gaze grew piercing—"before you had a place inside that could hold it."
Aarav inhaled sharply.
Vishuddha. Ajna. The trials that cracked him open. The truths he thought he had conquered.
But now he saw it. All of it had stood on unsteady ground. Like building a temple on sand.
The stone in his hand grew heavier with understanding.
"I failed…" he whispered.
The guide corrected him gently.
"You skipped."
A silence fell between them, deeper than any they'd shared. The forest hummed beyond, unconcerned with human awakenings.
"Then why did I have the visions?" Aarav asked. "Why did Ajna open at all?"
The guide looked upward through the canopy, his voice almost distant.
"Because the soul is not a staircase. It's a river. Sometimes it flows upward. Sometimes backward. But it always returns to source."
He leaned forward now, eyes clear.
"Your visions were real. Your voice was real. But they were too much for your body to hold. Because your body is still afraid of the world. Of weight. Of roots."
Aarav looked at the stone again. Then at his own hands. They trembled slightly.
"So I have to go back?"
"No," the guide said. "You're already here."
A New Silence
The koel sang again from the trees. This time, its voice didn't break the moment. It wove into it.
Aarav closed his eyes and pressed the stone gently to his chest. He didn't understand it all. But something in him—something deep—had stopped running.
He placed the stone beside him.
"I'm ready," he said. "To begin again. With the body. With the earth."
The guide's face grew still.
"You'll carry that stone with you," he said. "Not as a symbol. Not as a lesson. But as a reminder."
"Of what?"
The guide stood slowly, leaning on the tree for support. His body was still weak, but his presence seemed to stretch beyond the forest.
"That you do not rise by escaping," he said. "You rise by belonging."
A Glimpse of What's Ahead
Aarav looked up, but before he could ask more, the guide had turned away.
He took three slow steps toward the forest edge—and paused.
"There is one more thing," he said without turning. "When the body is ready, the spirit must face silence again."
Aarav stood, unsure.
"Another trial?"
The guide smiled faintly.
"No. A task."
And then he walked forward, vanishing into the thicket like mist returning to sky.
Aarav remained under the banyan tree, stone in hand, the earth finally beneath him.
🌱 End of Chapter
🌿 What did this silence awaken in you?Aarav is no longer running. He's learning to pause, to feel what still lives beneath.
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