At the village square, the chief and the entire crowd greeted the elderly man in unison. He gave a slight nod in acknowledgment. From within his robes, he drew out a jade identification token, etched with the royal phoenix seal. The chief received it with reverence, inspecting it briefly. Once he verified its authenticity, he respectfully returned it.
Placing his right hand over his heart, the elderly man spoke in a steady, resonant voice.
"Jai Magadha Empire. I am Dharampal, an Inner Sect Elder of the Magad Sect. I have been entrusted by our royal highness to oversee the selection exam of Rui Village."
With practiced ease, he retrieved a gemstone that radiated a soft white glow. As it hovered mid-air, the chief motioned for the village children to form a line.
Rohan stood first, followed by Advitya. Rohan glanced back at his friend just before stepping into the radiant halo. Advitya caught something in his eyes—hope. Pure and desperate.
He gently tapped Rohan's back, a quiet gesture of reassurance. He understood that Rohan's carefree demeanor was just a mask. Deep down, his friend desired selection more than anyone else—because that was his only path to uncover the truth behind his sister's death.
But that hope was dashed within moments. Rohan emerged from the halo still bathed in ordinary white light. Advitya saw the flicker of pain on his face as he stepped out, trying hard to hold back tears.
Then it was Advitya's turn. The entire village watched with bated breath. They weren't just hoping for his success—they were hoping to witness the end of Rui Village's decades-long curse.
But Advitya didn't care about curses or expectations. He cared about one thing: the truth. If he was chosen, it meant his presence in this world wasn't a coincidence—it was design. And that terrified him more than failure.
As he stepped into the halo, the gemstone pulsed and shone red.
The crowd erupted in joyous disbelief.
But Advitya didn't hear any of it. A voice was rising inside his head, louder than ever:
"He is here for a reason."
Before he could process it, he found himself wrapped in the warm embrace of his mother, her tears soaking into his shoulder. His father stood nearby, eyes glowing with pride.
For a fleeting moment, Advitya felt happiness—real, unburdened happiness.
Elder Dharampal stepped forward and, with a soft stomp on the earth, sent a tremor through the ground. The excitement died instantly, silence reclaiming the square.
Looking directly at Advitya, the elder asked,
"What is your name, child?"
"Advitya Maurya, sir."
"Congratulations, Advitya. You have been chosen by fate to walk the path of immortality. You will join the Magad Sect."
He opened a small ornate box and pressed his thumb gently against Advitya's forehead, marking him.
"You may bid farewell to your family. You leave for the capital tonight."
Advitya spent the remaining hours by his parents' side. No other child in the village was selected. As his mother wept, he did his best to console her. But what shook him most was his father's final act—a tight embrace, not as a parent, but as an equal. In their culture, this was the greatest gift a parent could give a child.
At last, Advitya boarded the sect's giant flying beast with nothing but the clothes on his back—just as instructed.