Darkness. Then whispers. A thousand voices, overlapping, chanting in tongues older than time.
Arav's eyes fluttered open. He wasn't under the Peepal tree anymore.
He stood inside a cavern made of glowing stone. Sanskrit mantras floated in the air like fireflies. A pool of silver water shimmered at the center, and above it, suspended in midair, was a woman.
She was ethereal — glowing, draped in translucent cloth that danced without wind. Her eyes, shut in meditation, opened slowly.
"Who... who are you?" Arav whispered.
"I am Siyana," she said, her voice carrying the tone of rivers and bells. "The spirit bound to the Ring of Brahmadhvani. I was once human — a guardian of the sacred mantras."
Arav took a step back. "This is a dream."
"It is more real than you know. That ring chose you. And through it, I awaken. You carry your father's blood, and within it, the last key to the lost path."
The cavern shook faintly.
"Your world has forgotten the strength of vibration, the power of sound. But you, Arav, are different. You have heard it in your soul."
He looked at the ring now glowing on his finger. A warmth spread through his palm and into his chest.
"Can I... become strong like my father?"
Siyana smiled, a tragic, knowing smile. "Stronger. But strength demands sacrifice. Will you learn the mantras, even if it changes you?"
Arav nodded slowly. "Teach me."
"Then listen. And repeat after me..."
She raised her hands. The air trembled.
"Om Dhyana Raksha... Shakti Pranava..."
Arav repeated it. The words rolled out like instinct, like memory reborn.
Light swirled. His body lifted inches off the ground, breath taken from his lungs as energy surged through him.
The training had begun.