As they settled into the clearing, the vivid image of the wild boar lingered in Aryaman's mind. Its fiery, demonic eyes haunted him, contrasting sharply with the serene forest. His thoughts churned with a mix of fear and realisation.
During the encounter, Aryaman had watched Svetavastra raise his hand, a look of serene concentration on his face. The air grew still, an eerie silence enveloping them. Aryaman's grip on his sword tightened, every muscle in his body poised to strike. But Svetavastra remained calm. A soft hum filled the air, purple spiritual energy emanating from the guru, wrapping around the boar like a gentle, yet unyielding embrace.
Aryaman's eyes widened as the boar, mid-leap, froze. The furious glow in its eyes faded, replaced by a calm, almost docile expression. The transformation was immediate. Svetavastra lowered his hand, and the boar landed softly, subdued and harmless.
The moment was a revelation for Aryaman. The cosmic sword at his side suddenly felt heavier, a reminder of his struggle with his powers. Watching Svetavastra, he realized the true depth of his guru's strength. It wasn't just about cosmic abilities; it was about the spiritual foundation that anchored them.
Noticing the shift in Aryaman’s demeanour, Svetavastra spoke, hoping Aryaman would grasp the gravity of the situation.
"The dark energy here is powerful, Aryaman. It's not just affecting the animals. It can reanimate the dead and corrupt the living, turning them into demonic entities. This energy must have seeped from a tainted ley line intersection near the forest."
Aryaman listened intently, understanding dawning in his eyes.
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"The darkness here isn't just in the air," Svetavastra continued. "It stems from a deep, corrupted source. We must purify it. Meditation will help us channel our spiritual energy to cleanse this place."
The prince nodded, a new resolve in his eyes. They found spots under a couple of poplar trees. Svetavastra took his place, crossing his legs and closing his eyes. Aryaman followed suit, his fingers brushing the hilt of his sword one last time before settling beside him. As he began to meditate, the translucent spirit lotus, a gift from Svetavastra, floated above his joined hands, its petals faintly shimmering.
The first day was a struggle. Aryaman’s thoughts darted like startled birds. He felt the weight of his impatience, the itch to act rather than sit still. But he persisted, focusing on his breath, drawing it in deeply and letting it out slowly. The forest seemed to breathe with them, the rustling leaves synchronizing with their rhythmic inhales and exhales.
By the second day, the world outside began to fade. Aryaman’s breaths grew steady, his mind a calm ocean rather than a stormy sky. He felt the spirit lotus's warm glow. He could feel Svetavastra's spiritual energy surging beside him as well.
On the third day, something shifted. Aryaman's focus sharpened. He could feel the spiritual energy building within him, a soft hum resonating in his bones. The spirit lotus responded, its petals unfurling, glowing brighter with each exhale. The energy spread from their bodies, a radiant wave of purity flowing through the forest, touching every leaf, every stone, every hidden crevice tainted by darkness.
The forest responded in kind. The oppressive weight of the dark energy lifted, replaced by a serene stillness. Birds began to sing again, and shafts of sunlight pierced through the canopy, illuminating the now-vibrant green moss and wildflowers. The air smelled fresher, cleaner, as if life had been restored.
Svetavastra opened his eyes, his gaze immediately falling on Aryaman. The prince sat under his tree, still deep in meditation, looking serene. The spirit lotus before him was in full bloom.
"Aryaman," Svetavastra whispered, though he knew the prince couldn’t hear him, "you have begun to understand."