The path wound downward into a valley of mist and shadow, the forest closing in tighter with every mile. The farther they left the Academy behind, the heavier the silence became. Neel walked in the lead, his steps slow but purposeful, his mind storming louder than the clouds above. Behind him, Leela followed quietly, her staff strapped to her back, her eyes always flicking toward him as if she feared he might vanish if she blinked. Shanaya trailed last, her cloak glowing faintly with embers, her presence sharp as a blade in the dark.
It had been hours since they left the scene with the storm lynx. Hours, and still the weight of it hung between them.
At last, Shanaya broke the silence, her voice flat and cutting. "That beast didn't come because it was hungry. It came because of him."
Neel didn't turn. "I didn't call it."
"You didn't need to," Shanaya said. "Your storm called it. Your… whatever it is inside you. The serpent. Beasts recognize strength, and something in you made it bow."
Leela quickened her pace. "Not strength. Corruption. It wasn't bowing — it was… confused."
"Confused?" Shanaya scoffed. "It knelt. That wasn't confusion. That was recognition. And if even the wild knows him as a vessel, then one day the world will too."
Neel stopped. Slowly, he turned, his face pale, eyes shadowed. "I never asked for this. I never wanted it."
For once, Shanaya faltered. But her voice was as sharp as ever. "Want it or not, it's yours. And if you can't control it, it'll control you. And then—" she leaned closer, her flames licking at the night air, "—I'll be there to burn you down before you take the rest of us with you."
Leela shoved herself between them, fury flashing in her eyes. "You think threatening him helps? He's fighting harder than either of us can imagine!"
Shanaya smirked. "Or maybe he isn't fighting hard enough."
The two glared, fire and water crackling invisible sparks in the air between them. Neel turned away. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand that he was the reason for their fighting, their fear.
And the memories came.
–––
Years ago.
The courtyard of the Academy was bright with laughter. Children ran, their wooden staves clashing, their voices high and full of life. Neel remembered himself then — smaller, thinner, awkward. Always a step behind.
"You're holding it wrong."
Aarav's voice. Confident. Sharper even as a boy. He snatched the staff from Neel's hands and spun it easily, his grin smug. "Like this. Now try."
Neel fumbled. The staff wobbled. Aarav rolled his eyes.
"You'll never get it right," he said with a laugh, though there was an edge to it. "Not everyone's meant to be a fighter."
Leela had appeared then, hair tied in two messy braids, her eyes bright. She grinned as she took the staff from Aarav and handed it back to Neel. "Ignore him. You're doing fine. You just need practice."
Neel smiled weakly. Aarav scowled.
That was the first time Neel saw the flicker of envy in Aarav's eyes.
–––
The memory bled into another.
Rain on the training fields. Mud thick underfoot. The children sparred under the watchful eyes of instructors. Neel remembered the weight of the staff in his hands, heavier than ever in the storm.
And then the lightning came.
Wild, uncontrolled, splitting the sky open. It crashed into the mud, spraying water and steam, the shockwave knocking children off their feet.
When the light faded, Neel stood untouched at the center. Sparks hissed across his skin. His classmates stared in shock and awe.
Except Aarav.
Aarav stared in fury. Because for once, Neel had been the center. Not him.
–––
Back at the fire, Neel blinked away the memory, his throat tight.
Leela noticed. She reached out, her hand brushing his arm. "Neel? What is it?"
"Memories," he whispered.
Shanaya's voice cut through the crackle of the flames. "Good. Remember them. Rivals are made in childhood."
Neel frowned. "Rivals?"
Shanaya's smirk sharpened. "You don't remember, do you? Of course not. But I do."
–––
Another memory.
The dueling ring. Children crowded the edges, chanting Shanaya's name. The Phoenix of Fire. Already fierce, already proud. She had challenged Neel, the awkward storm boy, just to show the gap between them.
"Don't be scared," she had said with a grin. "I'll go easy on you."
The duel began. Fire roared from her hands — but lightning surged from Neel's, wild and uncontrolled, clashing against her flame. For a heartbeat, she stumbled, driven back by the storm.
The crowd gasped. Shanaya's pride cracked.
And she never forgot.
–––
Back in the present, Shanaya's eyes burned with that same fire. "That's why you're my rival, Neel Sharma. Because even before you knew your strength, you humiliated me. And I swore I'd never let you do it again."
Leela's eyes widened. "So that's all this is? Pride?"
Shanaya's jaw tightened. "Not pride. Survival. If he rises, I fall. That's how it works."
The silence that followed was thick. Neel stared at the fire, torn between memory and the serpent's whisper.
"They envy you. They fear you. Let them. Their envy is your crown."
He pressed his palms to his temples, groaning. "Leave me alone!"
Leela was beside him instantly, worry etched into her face. "Neel—"
Shanaya stood over him, her eyes narrowed. "He's cracking already."
"Stop it!" Leela snapped. "You think pushing him helps? It doesn't!"
"Better he cracks now," Shanaya hissed, "than when the serpent fully wakes."
–––
Far away, Aarav stood on a cliff, watching the glow of their campfire through the trees. His blade gleamed as he ran a whetstone along its edge.
"He stole everything," Aarav whispered. "Leela's faith. Shanaya's fire. Even the storm itself." His grin was cruel. "Fine. Let him keep it. I'll tear it from him piece by piece. And when he falls, everyone will know who should have stood in his place."
–––
The fire snapped, and Neel sat silent, shadows heavy in his eyes.
Friendship, rivalry, envy — they had once been children together. But those bonds were ashes now.
And from ashes, only storms remain.