A sharp clap cracked through the morning haze.
We turned. Standing tall at the edge of the camp, robes swaying like night wind and arms crossed with quiet command, was Guru Kratu-Dhvaja.
"Fazed or unfazed. Active or lazy. Hard work or luck. Whatever it might be," she said, her voice cutting through the murmurs like flint, "it doesn't change the fact that most of you passed the trial with flying colors."
A murmur rose across the courtyard—relief, joy, and disbelief tangled in whispers. Even my shoulders slumped a little. We'd made it.
From the back, a chubby boy with leaves tangled in his hair raised his hand, blinking nervously. "D-Did we all pass?"
Kratu's lips curved into the faintest smile. "Leaving one group, all of you passed. They got in a fight with a Queen Wolf Beast—second strongest among the forest wolves—and required my help."
A ripple of gasps followed.
"But," she continued, "they were unlucky to face a beast of that power right at the start."
She paused, letting the weight of her words settle.
"Now, all of you—move to the Nursery. Guru Ānītā will take your second class."
The news was met with cheer from some, silence from others. But beside me, Lakshmika lit up like the sun piercing a cloudy sky.
Even though we had barely spent time with Guru Ānītā, Lakshmi had been fascinated by her calm demeanor and the subtle strength she radiated. She loved the herbs, the healing chants, the intricate balance between nature and magic. I could almost hear her thoughts: This… this is where I want to grow.
We followed the others down a winding path flanked by flowering vines and mossy rocks. The air here felt different—cooler, fragrant, alive.
The Nursery was no ordinary garden.
It was a small forest unto itself—ringed with medicinal trees, thick with blooms of neem, tulsi, ashwagandha, and petals I couldn't even name. Small stone paths curved through the dense greenery, leading to wooden huts and water channels that flowed like silver veins. Birds chirped softly, and butterflies flitted like wandering souls between leaves.
And then, she stepped out to greet us.
"I am Ananya, the assistant caretaker of this Nursery and student of the greatest healer of the country—Guru Ānītā," she said warmly.
And just like that, the world seemed to pause for a moment.
Her voice—it was elegant, like the gentle wind brushing against a temple bell. Her long black hair shimmered like flowing ink under sunlight, and her eyes held a serenity that felt... old, in a strange way. Divine, even.
I'm only fourteen, I know. But heyyyyy, I am hitting Puberty and I am a man afterall.
She was probably twice my age, maybe more. And yet, I couldn't stop the sudden heat that rushed to my cheeks.
Maybe this is what Guru meant when he said we're all discovering power in different ways...
I glanced at Varun. He stood frozen, mouth slightly agape. Lakshmi, too, seemed spellbound—but not in the same way.
She looked inspired. Her eyes sparkled with hope—like someone who had just seen a glimpse of her future.
"I didn't know students could assist in a place like this," she said, almost breathlessly.
Ananya's eyes sparkled. "Not only assistants. If you are talented enough and interested in teaching, you can become a Guru yourself."
That struck something in all of us.
The idea that someone from the student ranks could rise, not just to learn—but to lead, to heal, to shape others.
Something about Ananya's words settled deep in my chest. This world wasn't just about power and combat. It was about growth. About becoming someone that even nature listens to.
And maybe… someone others could follow, too.
thud thud thud
The aura Guru Anita was emitting didn't feel like a healers aura but a predator searching for her prey.
"You all must be tired from the Camp Trial" she says this while looking our injuries-"Your injuries don't mean you are weak, it means you overcame a big hurdle with minor injuries not your life. Wear you scars are trophies not shame" suddenly the aura she emitted changed. From a cold one to a more soothing one. My Tiredness went away and injuries started to heal.
"This presence you all feel and and which makes you injuries soother are nothing but the pinnacle of the Healing Magic which i have learned from decades of practice."
D-De-Decadesss? How old is she. She looks no more than a lady in her 30s. How foolish of me how can a Guru be even in her thirties.
As soon as i thought this her eyes as sharp as eagle turned towards me.
"To some of you who are thinking how old I am or how am I looking so young, this is all part of herbs, good diet and special healing magic."
"OHhhhhhhhhhhh. " I thought to myself.
As she turned away, her robes fluttering like ripples across still water, the group stood in awe. Some whispered. Others simply stared.
I… didn't even know how to process it.
Magic. Real, living magic. Not the kind of myth mothers tell you while oiling your hair before bed. Not folk tales or temple chants.
This was different. I'd felt it.
My muscles had stopped aching. The burn on my stomach had eased. My head, which was pounding just moments ago, now felt clear—like the first breath after a storm.
I touched the bandage at my side again. Damp, but clean. Warm, but no longer sore.
Varun leaned in, voice hushed. "If this is what healing magic feels like, I can only imagine what battle magic looks like."
Lakshmi didn't speak. She was still watching Anita—eyes sharp, like a pupil memorizing her future.
"Magic this, magic that..." I muttered under my breath. "But no one's even explained what magic is yet."
And that's when she spoke again.
"Before you ask me about healing spells or leaf poultices," Anita said, turning back, "You must understand the foundation of all power."
She raised her hand, fingers forming a mudra.
"Magic is not something you 'learn'. It is something you remember."
A hush fell.
"Within each of you lies a system older than any scroll or mantra. The sapta-chakras(7-chakras). They're not just spiritual gates. They are anchors of your very being. Energy flows through them like water through rivers. Most live their whole lives with these rivers blocked."
She looked at me when she said it. Not unkindly. Just knowingly.
"But those of you in this Gurukul? You will learn to unblock them. To awaken them. And only then will the world's true magic whisper your name."
And then—boom.
The ground trembled. Just slightly. But enough.
Somewhere deeper in the Nursery, a deafening howl pierced the air—low and guttural, like a dying beast... or a hungry one.
Anita's expression didn't change, but I saw her glance toward the northern grove.
"That," she said, her voice suddenly razor-sharp, "was not supposed to happen today."
The air grew tense again.
"Stay here. Do not wander."
With that, she vanished into the trees, her aura flickering out like a candle snuffed by wind.
We stood frozen. And as the second class of the day began, I had a feeling this lesson wouldn't be just about herbs.
It would be about survival.