Aarav's eyes snapped open.
The abyss was gone.
He was back—but the world around him had changed.
The battlefield was burning.
Flames, unnatural and raging, crawled across the ground, licking the sky in swirling embers of gold and crimson. The air shimmered with heat, distorting reality itself.
Aarav staggered to his feet. His body felt different.
Lighter. Sharper.
The pain that had gripped him moments ago was gone, replaced by a strange, coursing energy. The mark on his chest pulsed, veins of blue fire crackling beneath his skin.
And then—he saw Varun.
His older brother stood at the edge of the flames, untouched by the inferno, golden eyes gleaming.
Waiting. Watching.
Aarav exhaled. His fingers curled into fists. It was time.
Time to face the trial that would define his path.
The Trial by Fire.
Aarav took a step forward—
The flames roared.
A wall of fire surged in front of him, twisting into shapes—faces contorted in agony, mouths open in silent screams.
A test. A warning.
Or something far worse.
Aarav's breath was steady, but his hands tightened into fists. The heat licked at his skin, but the fire inside him burned hotter.
Varun's voice came, smooth as ever. "Do you understand now, Aarav?"
Aarav didn't look at him. He didn't need to.
"You think this will break me?" his voice was raw, but unwavering.
Varun chuckled. "Not yet."
The flames twisted. Shifted.
And then—they attacked.
Aarav barely had time to react before the firestorm rushed him, a tidal wave of scorching heat ripping through the battlefield.
There was no time to dodge.
So he didn't.
Instead—he ran forward.
Straight into the fire.
The moment Aarav stepped into the inferno, his world became fire.
It wasn't just heat—it was pressure, agony, destruction. The flames weren't just burning his body—they were trying to consume his soul.
His skin blistered. His breath turned to ash.
But he kept moving.
Through the flames, through the pain. Because stopping meant death.
A voice—**not his own—**echoed in his mind.
"You are not worthy."
Aarav gritted his teeth.
Not worthy?
He had fought for every breath he had ever taken. Survived in a world that tried to break him at every turn.
If these flames wanted to judge him—they would have to do better.
His mark flared, blue fire crackling across his skin.
And for the first time—the flames hesitated.
Aarav felt it.
The moment the trial recognized him.
This fire wasn't meant to kill him.
It was meant to remake him.
His lips curled into a bloody smirk.
"Burn all you want." His voice was hoarse but defiant. "I don't fear fire. I was born in it."
The flames roared.
And then—they changed.
The flames twisted.
What had once been an all-consuming inferno shifted, coiling around Aarav like living serpents. No longer wild, no longer mindless—they were waiting.
Testing him.
His body still burned, skin raw, but the pain no longer felt like an enemy. It was part of him now.
Aarav exhaled. The fire mirrored his breath, shrinking, folding inward—not consuming, but responding.
This was the trial.
It wasn't about survival. It was about control.
Aarav spread his hands. The fire crackled, waiting.
Then—he moved.
With a flick of his wrist, the flames followed.
A single step forward, and they swirled around him, an extension of his will. No longer an obstacle—but a weapon.
His weapon.
And then—
The battlefield returned.
The illusion of the trial shattered like broken glass, the real world snapping back into focus.
Aarav stood in the center of the scorched arena. The fire still danced around him, but now it obeyed.
Varun's golden eyes gleamed with something unreadable. "Interesting."
Aarav smirked, his fingers curling into a fist, blue flames licking at his knuckles.
He had passed.
And this was only the beginning.
---