One month later.
The morning sky over Nashik was painted in soft grey. A gentle breeze moved through the trees, rustling the bougainvillaea vines that clung to the row house windows.
Avdhoot stood outside the front door, a satchel slung across his shoulder. Inside it were a few sets of clothes, notebooks, pens, a compass he'd never used, and a small cloth bundle of dry snacks Sonal had insisted he carry—even if he never touched them.
He turned back once, looking at the house.
Sonal stood in the doorway, arms folded, biting her lip to keep her composure. Sarth leaned beside her, arms crossed, his expression unreadable as ever.
"You remember what I told you?" Sarth asked.
Avdhoot nodded.
"Don't trust anyone at first. Watch. Listen. Then act."
"And?"
"Don't try to be impressive," Avdhoot added. "Try to be ready."
Sarth gave a curt nod.
Sonal stepped forward and adjusted the collar of his shirt—once, twice—then stopped herself.
"Don't forget to write."
Avdhoot offered a small, nervous smile.
"If the owls allow it."
Sarth pointed to the grass a few steps ahead.
"Stand there. Let's see it activate."
Avdhoot stepped forward, his heart hammering.
He pulled the parchment from his coat. The glyph embedded at its base shimmered faintly in the morning light.
He inhaled once.
Then placed his palm over the swirling rune and spoke softly.
"Avdhoot Autade."
The glyph pulsed—once—
Then exploded in golden light.
The air fractured.
A tear in space peeled open before him, like silk ripped between two worlds. Within it shimmered a bridge—not of stone, not of spellcraft, not of anything he could name.
Floating obsidian platforms stretched forward, suspended above a churning abyss of blue fire and silver wind.
The bridge trembled, uncertain.
Avdhoot swallowed.
"This is… my path?"
Sarth stepped beside him, eyes grave.
"Every Vartalok Path reflects its walker. It knows what you fear. What you are. And what you're not."
Avdhoot took a hesitant step toward the gate.
"Wait," Sarth said.
Avdhoot turned.
Sarth reached into his pocket and placed something into his hand.
A pale red crystal shard, set in a small brass loop. It pulsed faintly, warm to the touch.
"What is it?"
"Something your mother left behind," Sarth said. "A focus fragment. It might help one day. Or it might not. Keep it close."
Avdhoot studied it for a moment, then slipped it into his shirt pocket.
Sarth nodded.
"Now go."
Avdhoot looked to Sonal. She didn't speak—just raised her hand in a firm wave, eyes shining.
He stepped forward.
The moment his foot touched the first obsidian platform, the world behind him blurred. Wind roared. The door to Nashik closed.
The Vartalok Path welcomed him—
And judged him.
He moved carefully, stone to stone, the abyss twisting beneath him. There was no railing. No safety. Only floating platforms, each carved into a fractured sigil.
Some cracked beneath his weight. Others dipped lower than expected. The bridge was alive—testing balance, fear, hesitation.
As he walked, he felt it.
A presence.
Not hostile. Not kind.
Watching.
He glanced back.
Nothing. Only the abyss.
The feeling remained.
Someone is watching, he thought, Sarth's warning echoing in his mind. Even now.
His pace quickened—not from panic, but from a growing certainty.
This wasn't just about crossing.
It was about being seen.
A platform spun beneath his foot. Avdhoot stumbled, nearly falling. Wind screamed past his ear, carrying a whisper:
Unworthy.
"No," he breathed.
"Not this time."
Step by step.
Stone by stone.
Somewhere beyond the visible world—between realms—a figure observed through a scrying lens. The image showed Avdhoot in crystalline detail: every falter, every correction, every flicker of doubt.
"Fractured mana," the figure murmured, voice like ice cracking. "But strong will. The mother's blood still runs true."
They made a note in an ancient ledger, ink flowing with dark magic of its own accord.
"Send word to the Academy," the figure said. "The boy is coming. Prepare the watchers. I want everything the moment he arrives."
A shadow peeled itself from the darkness and vanished with the message.
Forward.
Toward the light at the far end of the path.
Toward Sankathya Mahavidyalaya.
Toward everything.
[End of Chapter 2]