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Chapter 22 - Mastery in Progress

Two years had passed. The forest was still, almost silent, but the memories of the Raksh-Wolf and its cubs lingered like shadows at the edge of Prithvi's mind. The alpha had been slain by their father, a master swordsman, but the knowledge that the creature did not travel alone, but in packs, kept the threat alive. One alone could still strike at any moment, unpredictable and deadly.

Prithvi, now seven, practiced relentlessly in the clearing behind their hut. Aarav, twelve now, lean and steady, observed from a distance, occasionally offering guidance but never interfering. Meera, equally seven, watched with wide eyes, occasionally cheering or teasing them both.

Prithvi's water magic had changed. He could no longer summon vast torrents from nothing without strain, but he had learned precision. A swirl of water could form a blade sharp enough to cut a branch, a whip accurate enough to hit a moving target. Every flick of his hand, every rotation of his wrist, was deliberate, controlled — though the raw power he had once summoned freely was still beyond him.

"Focus on the center of the flow," Aarav instructed, demonstrating a controlled throw of a makeshift water whip at a target. "Precision matters more than strength. You've got the power, little brother, now make it obedient."

Prithvi's lips pressed into a thin line. He concentrated, forming a small spinning water blade that struck the target dead center. It shivered in place, spinning perfectly.

"Better," Aarav nodded, eyes filled with pride. "But remember, control is everything. The forest… it will test you when you least expect it."

Their father often watched from the shadows, a quiet presence as sharp and commanding as ever. He never trained Prithvi in swords, only observing, occasionally guiding his focus with calm advice. "You must learn to shape the water with intent, not with force," he had said many times. "Your mind must direct your power, or it will betray you."

Prithvi nodded, absorbing every lesson. The sun-mark on his back pulsed faintly, a reminder that the magic within him was alive, waiting.

Two years of daily practice had refined his skill, though mastery was still out of reach. Now, he could strike with precision, create barriers, or lash out with controlled force — enough to defend himself and those he cared for.

At the end of each training session, he would sit with Aarav and Meera, exhausted but satisfied, the forest around them whispering, alive and watchful. And in the quiet moments, he remembered the alpha, its fury, and the fragility of life — lessons etched into his heart.

For now, he was stronger. Not invincible, but ready. And somewhere deep inside, he knew the day would come when the Raksh-Wolf would return — and when it did, he would be ready to meet it.

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