The year became a tapestry woven with the threads of learning and excitement. In the first tentative days of spring, Aerion, barely able to understand the letters, would bat at the infatuating letters Vivienne traced in the soft earth of the nursery garden, although Aerion is a full-grown adult mentally.
Summer found them in the sun-drenched library, the scent of aged parchment and beeswax filling the air as Vivienne read aloud from ancient tomes, Aerion's wide eyes fixed on the flickering candlelight.
Autumn brought the crisp scent of wood smoke and the rustling of fallen leaves outside the window, as Aerion's small hand, now steadier, attempted to mimic Vivienne's elegant scripts.
Then came winter, the nursery warmed by a crackling fire, and it was there, amidst the soft glow of the hearth, that Aerion first whispered a word of paranh falls in the pit of his desire to learn more, invoking the flame of ambition.
The year unfolded like a richly illustrated storybook, each season a chapter in Aerion's rapid growth and burgeoning understanding of his new world. Though his mind held the complexities of a full-grown adult, his infant body was still learning its limitations and wonders.
Aerion, now sat on a simple mat in an empty chamber. The only illumination came from four glowing cables positioned around the perimeter of the mat, casting long, dancing shadows on the bare stone walls.
He straightened his small back, aligning his head perfectly with his tailbone, creating the precise 90-degree angle required for the meditative posture. His arms extended, resting gently on his knees, his tiny fingers forming the yogic mudra, palms facing diagonally upward, channeling his focus inwards. He concentrated on the seven major chakra points within his body simultaneously, deliberately allowing the raw, untamed pranah to leak wildly outwards, a necessary first step in understanding its flow.
[I… I understand it now. Everything in this world has paranh in it, which equates to life energy plus the inherent force of its existence, and it passively leaks into the world if not consciously controlled – that's the default state of being here.]
[Even objects considered nonliving by basic definitions possess a faint residue of life force within their remains, and the force of existence is the fundamental essence that permeates this entire cosmic sea.]
[And now I have to draw all this wild energy deep within myself, focusing it on the very essence of my being, to mold and shape SāraJibh… This is the stage where brother Caius failing three long years now, a testament to its difficulty.]
Aerion focused his intent, sinking deeper into meditation as the hours bled into one another. Sweat slicked his small body, and a viscous, black grease, the impurities being purged from his system, seeped from his pores. His limbs began to tremble with exhaustion, his small frame shaking uncontrollably. A creeping darkness threatened to engulf his mind, his focus wavering. His hands, growing numb, started to slip from their position on his knees.
Doubt gnawed at him, the echoes of the murderer's words from the city streets resurfacing like unwelcome specters. How can I forgive myself for the accident? What truly separates me from a criminal who willingly takes a life? The conflict within him intensified, hindering his concentration.
With a frustrated sigh, his small body still slick with sweat, Aerion rose from the mat. He walked unsteadily out of the training chamber and onto a small balcony overlooking the castle grounds.
Leaning against the stone ledge, he peered through the gap, his gaze drifting over the sprawling landscape. His eyes fell upon the distant royal library, and he noticed a small group of children, who appeared to be commoners, walking out, each clutching books in their hands. A flicker of curiosity sparked within him.
[What's that? Are they stealing? He remembers only Noble and royalty are allowed in there, No… they're just books… Knowledge. Everyone should have right to it no matter the rules.]
He turned and walked back into the training room, a renewed resolve hardening his gaze. He settled back onto the mat, realigning his posture. [Nine times,] he told himself firmly, his mental voice echoing with determination. This time, I will surely do it. He closed his eyes, pushing aside the lingering doubts and the echoes of the past, and resumed his intense meditation.
Hours passed. The small room remained silent except for Aerion's soft, steady breathing. The arduous process continued, his body wracked with the strain, but his focus remained unbroken.
After a lot of infighting, he remembers Vivienne's words: "Forgive yourself of all sins you did. I know you're just a child; you can't do any wrongdoing, so even if it is as small as lying to anyone about whether you had dinner or not, forgive yourself. Shaktih needs purity, convocation, and purpose to bless you with its grace upon you."
[No, I must forgive myself for everything I did not just in this life but in a previous life. I occasionally leave my room; I had every addiction but somehow always managed to survive. I don't know if this is because of my fate, but I learned a lot from my previous life and… That car accident was not my fault. I didn't option it; it was a mistake.]
[Ashutosh, Priyanshu, Mansi, Happy, Sahil, Pariyari, Chirag… I'm sorry for what happened. I will make up for this… Just wait … Wait, this is a second chance in my name… I'll make up for it.]
[Believe in yourself, Shivam...…]
[Every thought getting more and more desperate with each passing moment..]
[Believe in yourself, Areion. Focus, Areion…]
[Believe in yourself.]
[Believe in yourself. Believe in yourself. Believe...….in ...…. Yourself SHIVAM]
Then, a single teardrop escaped his left eye, tracing a clean path through the grime on his cheek. A sudden gust of wind swept through the chamber, extinguishing the glowing candles, plunging the room into darkness. A profound silence fell over the entire castle, a stillness so complete it felt as though the very air had held its breath. A newfound presence, resonated through the walls.
King Valdemar, Prince Lucian, and the Grand Ministers – the astute Macron van Roasain, the pragmatic Ibiji Himigaki, the shrewd Jang Ki-won, and the insightful Al-Khwarizmi – all felt the subtle change. A shared understanding, unspoken but undeniable, drew their attention towards the training chambers. They exchanged bewildered glances before rushing towards the room where Prince Caius was undergoing his rigorous training regimen.
Queen Vivienne, however, moved with a different instinct. A serene knowing settled upon her graceful features. Turning away from the others. she walked with quiet purpose towards her private scriptorium, a gentle smile gracing her lips, leaving most of the rushing figures confused, except for King Valdemar, whose gaze followed her with a knowing affection and a faint smile of his own.
As the king, Lucian, and the ministers reached the training room, they found Caius on the ground, his chest heaving, sweat plastering his red hair to his forehead. Disappointment and confusion were etched on their faces. Valdemar, ever composed, his gaze holding a quiet understanding, diverted his attention towards the direction of Vivienne's scriptorium, his faint smile deepening.
Vivienne entered her private chamber and walked towards the door of her scriptorium. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she hesitantly pushed it open and stepped inside. Her breath caught in her throat. There, bathed in a soft, golden hue that seemed to emanate from within him, sat Aerion. The grime and impurities were gone, his small form radiating a pure, vibrant energy.
Meanwhile, two floors below, Lucian, his mind reeling with disbelief, voiced the impossible. "But Father, this is not possible; he is just barely four years old…"
Valdemar placed a reassuring hand on his eldest son's shoulder. "Just believe me, my son. I know this sounds unrealistic, but just listen."
Minister Ibiji adjusted his spectacles, his brow furrowed in scholarly fashion. "If this truly has transpired, my lord, then young Lord Aerion will become the one of the youngest inheritor of Shaktih in our kingdom's history. A momentous occasion, which will inevitably bring both immense glory and potential threats to our realm."
Valdemar nodded slowly, his gaze still fixed in the direction of Vivienne's scriptorium. Beside him, Caius clenched his fists, a muscle twitching in his jaw.