The morning sun poured gently over the rooftops of the city, gilding the walls of Lioran's modest home in a soft amber glow. Inside, the quiet clinking of plates and the faint aroma of roasted spices filled the dining room.
Lioran sat at the table with his younger sister Lyra, both dressed for the day ahead. He adjusted the strap of his college bag, slung over the back of his chair.
They started eating breakfast.
"Poha is really good today," he said between bites, savoring the warm, lightly spiced rice flakes.
Lyra smiled with quiet pride. "I added a little garam masala. That's why it tastes better."
After finishing their breakfast, the siblings stepped outside. The crisp air of morning greeted them as they walked together down the narrow street toward the main road. Birds chirped along the rooftops.
Then Lyra broke the calm with a question that pierced his heart.
"By the way," she said quietly, her expression sobering, "did those guards from your college—the ones who went missing—get found?"
Lioran froze mid-step. His throat tightened. For a brief second, he couldn't meet her eyes.
"No," he answered finally, his voice low and strained. "They're still missing."
Lyra lowered her head. "I feel so sad for their families. Waiting, not knowing… it must be unbearable."
Her words cut into him like a blade. The memory of that night flashed violently in his mind: the monstrous Narvan tearing through the college grounds, the brutal deaths of those brave guards, the helplessness he had felt watching lives extinguished before his very eyes.
"If only I had been stronger… could I have saved them? The thought echoed relentlessly within him."
He clenched his fist as they continued walking in silence.
By the time he arrived at college, the day felt heavier. In class, he sat beside Sharin, his closest friend. The lecture droned on at the front of the room, but Lioran barely heard a word. His mind kept drifting back—not to the professor's equations, but to the quiet ashram from yesterday, where he and Sharin had stood before the enigmatic old man, Shourya.
[Flashback – The Ashram]
"No… you can't," Lioran had said firmly, almost desperately, shaking his head at Sharin.
But Sharin refused to back down. His voice carried a new sharpness, one Lioran wasn't used to hearing. "But I can help you. I can't leave you to face danger alone."
Lioran turned away, his jaw set. "No. I don't want your life at risk because of me."
"I'm not a child," Sharin shot back, his voice trembling with both anger and conviction. "I can take care of myself."
His fists tightened at his sides. "And besides… I can't abandon my best friend."
Lioran turned, surprised by the force in his friend's words. He saw the fire in Sharin's eyes, the hurt, the determination.
"Why do you think I'm weak?" Sharin demanded suddenly, his voice cracking. "Do you think I'm useless, like the others do? That I'll just slow you down?"
"No, I didn't mean—"
"Then why are you stopping me?" Sharin shouted. His voice echoed through the ashram halls. "It's my choice to help you. If my best friend is in danger, how could I possibly sit back and do nothing?"
Lioran faltered, caught between fear and guilt. "This is the first time Sharin's spoken with such confidence… but if I let him, he'll be walking into death. He's my best friend. What should I do?"
The silence was broken by Shourya's calm, deep voice.
"Then let us test his potential."
Both boys turned sharply toward the old man.
"What do you mean?" Sharin asked.
Shourya's expression was grave, yet gentle. "I will awaken your Prāṇa Core."
"Prāṇa Core?" Lioran repeated, his brows furrowing.
The old man blinked, then chuckled softly. "Ah… forgive me. I never explained to you the essence of our power—Prāṇa."
Shourya's eyes gleamed with ancient wisdom as he folded his hands behind his back. His voice deepened, carrying the weight of centuries of knowledge.
"Prāṇa," he began, "is the universal life force—the breath of existence itself. It flows through all living beings, animating their bodies, sharpening their minds, and deepening their spirits. It is not just energy, but the very thread that weaves life and consciousness into this world."
The boys listened intently, their eyes fixed on him.
"Every time you breathe," Shourya continued, "you draw in traces of Prāṇa from the air. Every heartbeat, every spark of thought, every flicker of emotion—you owe to this force. But for most, Prāṇa remains dormant, like a great river hidden underground."
He looked at Lioran meaningfully. "Yet when you fought, the power you unleashed—that golden aura—was not mere strength. It was Prāṇa, flowing freely through you."
Lioran's eyes widened.
"Where does it come from?" he asked.
Shourya raised a finger. "Prāṇa exists in two great forms. First—Cosmic Prāṇa. It dwells in the world around us—in the trees, the stones, the rivers, the air. It is the pulse of nature, the rhythm of the universe itself. Without it, life would wither, the earth would crumble, and the stars would fade. But though it surrounds us, humans cannot directly command Cosmic Prāṇa."
Sharin frowned. "Then what about the second form?"
"The second," Shourya said, his tone reverent, "is Eternal Prāṇa. Unlike Cosmic Prāṇa, it flows within living beings. At the core of each life lies a spiritual nexus—not of flesh, but of essence. We call it the Prāṇa Core. This invisible core rests near the heart, tied to the rhythm of blood and breath. Through it, Eternal Prāṇa courses in the veins, granting vitality and potential beyond mortal limits."
The boys leaned closer, captivated.
"But…" Shourya's voice darkened, "the Prāṇa Core is not born fully awake. In most people, it slumbers, undeveloped. To awaken it requires ten to fifteen years of rigorous discipline—meditation, combat, spiritual refinement. Many try, but only a few ever succeed in even partially awakening their Core."
Shourya's eyes glimmered with memory. "Throughout history, perhaps only four or five warriors have ever fully awakened their Prāṇa Cores."
His gaze fell directly upon Lioran. "But you Vaelion before you… were different. Both of you were born with fully awakened Prāṇa Cores. Such a gift is so rare it is nearly divine."
Lioran's breath caught. The words settled on him like a heavy cloak, both blessing and burden.
Sharin raised his hand slowly. "If Prāṇa is so rare and powerful, then… how does it decide our strength? How can it show my potential?"
"A good question," Shourya said, smiling faintly. "When a Prāṇa Core is awakened, it allows one to channel Eternal Prāṇa by eating food, drinking water and breathing air, unlocking strength, … likespeed, perception, even abilities that defy natural law. In essence, your Core reflects your soul's depth. The stronger the soul, the more power it can bear."
Sharin clenched his fists. "Then… awaken mine. Train me. I'll do whatever it takes."
Shourya's expression softened, but his voice carried a shadow. "I can… but there is a problem. A normal person requires a decade or more to develop their Core. You do not have that time."
Sharin's face fell, hope slipping away.
But Shourya wasn't finished. His eyes narrowed. "There is… another way."
Both boys stiffened.
"What way?" Sharin asked quickly. "Tell me. I'll do it."
Shourya's voice lowered, grave and deliberate. "It is dangerous. If you are not strong enough, it may cost you your life."
The air in the ashram thickened with silence. Sharin's lips parted in shock, but determination flared in his eyes once again. Lioran, however, felt his chest tighten with dread.
"Life…?" he whispered.
Shourya nodded solemnly.
And the weight of choice loomed before them all.
TO BE CONTINUED...