The forest was quiet that afternoon, sunlight filtering through the canopy in golden patches. Prithvi sat on a mossy rock, watching a small stream twist through the trees. Meera chased butterflies nearby, her laughter echoing like wind chimes. Aarav stood a few steps away, arms folded, eyeing the forest with his usual vigilance.
Prithvi's fingers twitched as he stared at the water, the memory of last night's sun-mark still faintly pulsing beneath his skin. He didn't understand it fully — the power, the forest, or the strange obedience of the trees — but something deep inside him urged him forward.
"Don't go too far, Prithvi," Aarav said cautiously. "Magic isn't a toy. Even water can hurt if it's wild."
Prithvi only nodded. He didn't need chants, scrolls, or lessons like the stories told of mages in distant lands. He had never learned magic. He only… imagined it.
He closed his eyes. The sound of the stream in his mind, the rhythm of the forest around him, the pulse beneath his chest — he focused.
And then, it happened.
A droplet of water rose from the stream, hovering in the air. It shimmered with faint light, reflecting the sunlight in tiny rainbow arcs. Slowly, it grew, forming a small orb of water, suspended perfectly in midair. Prithvi's eyes opened, wide with awe. He didn't chant. He didn't move his hands in intricate patterns. He only imagined the water, and it appeared.
"Prithvi…" Aarav's voice trembled, part fear, part amazement. "How… how are you doing that?"
Meera ran over, clapping her hands. "Wow! Make a bigger one! Make it swirl!"
Prithvi's lips curved into a small, unsure smile. He focused again, and the orb expanded, spiraling slowly like a miniature whirlpool. The forest seemed to respond, leaves rustling in rhythm with the swirling water. Birds watched silently from above.
"It's… it's magic," Aarav whispered, voice low. "Real magic. And you… you didn't even chant. Nobody can do that."
Prithvi's chest tightened. He hadn't thought about being special. He had only thought about keeping them safe, about feeling the forest respond. And yet, this power — wild, untrained, untouched by rules — pulsed through him like a living thing.
Meera reached out her tiny hands. "Can I touch it?"
Prithvi hesitated, then nodded. As her fingers brushed the water, the orb split into countless droplets, dancing in the air before gently falling back into the stream. Meera squealed with delight, her laughter ringing across the grove.
Aarav took a step closer, eyes dark and thoughtful. "This… this changes everything. You can create magic without learning it. No one else can do that."
Prithvi felt a mix of fear and wonder. The sun-mark beneath his shirt throbbed faintly, almost as if urging him forward. Somewhere deep in the forest, he thought he heard the faint growl of the Raksh-Wolf — or perhaps it was a warning, a challenge.
He realized something terrifying and exhilarating at once: magic was no longer a tool or a story. For him, it was instinct. And the world around him — the forest, the streams, even the shadows — would obey if he only willed it.
For the first time, Prithvi understood that being chosen wasn't about courage alone. It was about something older, something waiting in the blood, in the pulse beneath his chest, in the forest that listened.
And he wasn't ready to stop imagining.