The sun dipped lower with every step we took.
The air was cool now—gentle wind brushing past my skin like a whisper I couldn't hear. Leaves rustled above us. At least, I assumed they did. The silence had become a sort of constant companion by now, not an enemy but not yet a friend.
Rudransh walked ahead with a certain careless grace—his shoulders relaxed, cloak swaying, every step precise like he knew exactly where he was going without needing to think.
For a long time, we didn't speak.
Then finally, he glanced back. "How long are you planning to keep frowning like that?"
I blinked.
He smirked. "Don't answer. I know you can't."
I mouthed, "I'm not frowning."
He laughed, short and dry. "You always look like you're carrying a thunderstorm in your ribs."
I shrugged. "Maybe I am."
We kept walking.
There was something oddly peaceful about him. He didn't try to fill the silence. Maybe he respected it. Or maybe he just liked the quiet better than people.
Eventually, the trees thinned.
And then I saw it.
A lake—vast, still, silver beneath the falling sun. Its surface shimmered like it had secrets buried in its depths. Stones lined the edges, smoothed by time. A few birds flapped silently overhead, and willow trees leaned toward the water as if whispering into it.
Rudransh walked straight to the edge, sat down, and motioned for me to follow.
When I did, he pulled something from his belt—a small, carved stick of white wood. A charm. He twirled it in his fingers as he spoke.
"You know what your problem is?" he asked, voice low.
I tilted my head.
"You think the curse is what's stopping you from growing. That not hearing makes you broken."
I stayed quiet.
"But the truth is," he said, tossing a pebble into the lake, "you haven't even begun to understand this world yet."
I frowned, mouthing, "What do you mean?"
He tapped his chest. "Power doesn't come from hearing or shouting spells. It comes from within. From your core. Your chakras."
He took a breath.
"Ever wonder why some people bond with creatures? Why some can speak mantras, while others control storms? It's not talent. It's alignment."
He reached into the dirt, drew a simple vertical line, and began marking seven points along it.
"These are the seven chakras. Energy centers. Like doors inside you. Everyone has them, but not everyone opens them."
He tapped the base. "First—the Root, or Mūlādhāra. Down at your spine. That's your survival. Your body's base code. It gives you stamina, resilience—helps you even sense your own energy for the first time. Without this, you're nothing but meat."
He moved to the next. "Second—the Sacral, Svādhiṣṭhāna. Emotions. Instincts. It wakes up your magic. Affinities. That's where you discovered lightning, isn't it?"
I nodded slowly.
"Third—Maṇipūra, solar plexus. Your will. That's when you stop reacting and start shaping energy. Forging it into offense."
His finger kept rising.
"Fourth—Anāhata, the heart. Where bonds live. You start syncing with others—spirits, beasts, sometimes even people."
Fifth, the throat. "Viśuddha. Voice, vibration. This is where mantras come in. Sound magic, chant spells, vocal resonance. You won't get far with that silence curse unless you unlock this."
Sixth. Between the brows. "Ājñā, third eye. Insight. You see energy, truth, lies. The battlefield starts to slow down. Illusions shatter."
And finally, he tapped the crown of the head. "Sahasrāra. The divine gate. That's where godly power flows through. Few ever reach it. Even fewer survive it."
He looked at me then, eyes sharp. Not mocking. Just... steady.
"Right now, you're stuck. You've touched lightning, yes. But you haven't awakened even the second chakra properly."
I mouthed: "Then what should I do?"
He stood, dusting off his hands.
"You need to awaken Viśuddha—the throat chakra. Even before that, you must sense vibration through silence. Learn to feel sound, not hear it. If you can't hear the world, then let the world speak through your skin."
I stared at him.
He stared back.
"No one's coming to fix you," he said quietly. "You're not broken. But if you wait for this curse to lift on its own... you'll die waiting."
I clenched my fists.
"You've been cursed with silence. So become the one who masters it. Learn to bend vibration to your will. That's your next step."
I looked out over the lake.
It was still. But not dead. There were ripples, faint ones, moving outward from the stone Rudransh had thrown earlier. Each pulse carried through the water like a silent whisper.
I touched the ground.
Closed my eyes.
And listened—not with ears, but with something deeper.
For the first time, I felt it.
A tremor.
Distant. But real.
Like the world itself was breathing.