“I heard Elder Pasang never smiles during the selection. Does that mean he’s the strictest?”

“Forget about him. Did you see Lobsang Dolma? They say her glare alone can make a student faint!”

“Bet you Kimi Yachang gets picked first.”

“Please, as if anyone else stands a chance. She’s been the favorite since the start.”

Arav’s palms were slick with sweat. He kept his eyes fixed on the ten Council members seated at the dais, their imposing presence casting an almost divine glow over the hall. The Council of Donyi Polo was not merely a governing body; they were legends, masters of their craft, and guardians of Dharma itself.

Elder Pasang Dorji, seated at the center, raised his hand. The murmurs died instantly. His voice, though calm, carried the weight of authority. “Now, the Council of Donyi Polo will select ten students to become personal disciples. This is not an honor we bestow lightly. Those chosen will carry the responsibility of upholding the Academy’s teachings and the Dharma that sustains our world.”

Jampa Lobsang, seated to Pasang’s right, let out a hearty laugh. “Let’s not keep them waiting, shall we?” His voice was deep and booming, like the roar of a mountain stream.

“Always in a rush,” Dawa Tsering muttered under his breath, earning a chuckle from Sonam Zangmo.

Pasang ignored the exchange and continued, “This is a sacred duty. Let us begin.”

The hall grew silent as Jampa Lobsang rose. He surveyed the room with a grin, letting the tension build before finally calling, “Taba Tani.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd. A few muttered, “Knew it. He’s from one of the old clans.”

“Figures they’d pick someone like him first.”

Arav watched as Taba strode to the platform, his steps confident but respectful.

Next, Sonam Zangmo rose, her voice soft but steady. “Kimi Yachang.”

The whispers grew louder.

“Told you she’d be next.”

“Bet she’s already celebrating in her head.”

Kimi moved gracefully, her head held high.

One by one, names were called:

“Bula Choudary.”

“Dona Kuriakose.”

“Pema Sanyukta.”

By the time the first five were selected, the tension in the hall was palpable. Some students slumped in their seats, resigned to their fate. Others whispered furiously.

“Why is it always the elites?”

“Do you think they even look at the outer province students?”

“Shh! They’ll hear you!”

The boys followed:

“Zoramthanga.”

“Kiren Rijiju.”

“Pema Khandu.”

“Buddhi Yadav.”

“Joram D. Gambo.”

As the final name was called, Arav felt his chest tighten. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but his mind was a whirlwind of disappointment and self-doubt. Around him, the chatter picked up again.

“Not surprising. The Council always plays favorites.”

“Guess it’s back to the training fields for the rest of us.”

“Hey, at least we’re still in the Academy.”

Arav’s fists clenched under the table. He didn’t want to accept it. He had pushed himself through every trial, endured the test, faced his past. And yet…

At the end, the Council exchanged quiet words, their voices just loud enough to be heard.

“We’ve made our selections,” Rinchen Norbu said, leaning back in his chair. “But I can’t shake the feeling we’ve missed something.”

“Missed something?” Mechukha Nyima raised an eyebrow. “The criteria were clear. The choices are sound.”

Lobsang Dolma nodded. “Perhaps, but there’s a heaviness in the hall tonight. Do you feel it?”

Pasang Dorji remained silent, his gaze sweeping across the hall.

As the students began filing out, Arav lingered. Something didn’t feel right. He had felt it during the test, and now it was stronger—a presence, faint but unmistakable.

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“Still here?” a voice broke through his thoughts.

Arav turned to see a fellow aspirant smirking at him. “Don’t overthink it. The Council makes their choices. It’s not the end of the world.”

Arav nodded absently, but his eyes were scanning the room. Was he imagining it? The weight of a gaze, distant yet intense, bore down on him.

Far below the surface of the Sect, in the deepest sanctum, the Solstice Emperor stood before a shimmering pool of light. His golden robes reflected the ethereal glow as he watched the scene unfold above.

“Bearer of Vishwaroop Kaal has reappeared,” he murmured, his voice heavy with both awe and foreboding.

He closed his eyes, the faintest trace of a smile playing on his lips. “Let us see if you are ready Will you lead to destruction of the world or not.”

Outside the hall, Arav gazed up at the towering peaks of the sect. His heart was heavy, but somewhere deep inside, a flicker of determination remained.

“They didn’t choose me,” he muttered to himself. “But this isn’t the end. Not yet.”

As he turned to leave, a breeze brushed past him, carrying with it a faint whisper that sent chills down his spine. Though he saw nothing, he knew: someone something was watching.

The Heart of Light buzzed with activity as disciples poured into the main courtyard. Lanterns hung from wooden posts, their glow casting long shadows on the cobblestone paths. The air was filled with murmurs, laughter, and the occasional burst of nervous excitement.

“Did you hear what they said? Awakening prana is the first test tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but what if we can’t? Is that the end for us?”

“Stop worrying! We’re here for a reason. We’ll figure it out.”

Arav walked through the crowd, clutching his small pouch of Dhara Stones. The faint golden light from within it seemed to pulse with life, a constant reminder of the challenges ahead.

“Ten stones,” muttered a boy beside him, examining his pouch. “What can we even do with this? It doesn’t feel like much.”

“It’s not meant to feel like much,” said a sharp voice. Arav turned to see a girl with short hair and a confident stance. “They’re testing us. Discipline, patience, resourcefulness. You waste it, you fail.”

“Easy for you to say,” the boy retorted. “What if we need extra food? Or—”

“Then don’t eat,” she cut him off with a smirk. “Think before you act. Simple.”

Arav couldn’t help but chuckle. “She’s got a point.”

The boy glared at him but said nothing, walking off with a huff. The girl turned her attention to Arav. “And what about you? Got any brilliant plans for your stones?”

“Not yet,” he admitted. “But I’ll figure it out.”

“Good answer,” she said, nodding approvingly. “I’m Taba Tani. You?”

“Arav.”

“Nice to meet you, Arav. Let’s hope you’re better at awakening prana than small talk,” she said with a sly grin before disappearing into the crowd.

The disciples were herded toward the dormitories, their wooden facades glowing softly under the moonlight. A senior disciple stood at the entrance, shouting over the noise.

“Find your names on the list by the door! Your room numbers are next to them. Settle in quickly. Training starts tomorrow at first light.”

Arav pushed his way through the throng to the list.

“Room 312,” he read aloud.

“312, huh?” A familiar voice chimed in. Buddhi Yadav appeared at his side, grinning as usual. “I’m 313. Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

“Lucky me,” Arav said dryly, making his way inside.

The room was modest—a single bed, a desk, a chest, and a window overlooking the courtyard. Arav set his pouch of Dhara Stones on the desk and sat on the bed, exhaling deeply.

Before he could relax, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

Buddhi entered, uninvited as usual. “Not bad, huh? Cozy enough for a future prana master.”

“Future prana master?” Arav raised an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah,” Buddhi said, plopping down on the bed. “You didn’t come all the way here to be mediocre, did you?”

Arav smirked. “Fair point. What’s your plan, then?”

“Plan?” Buddhi shrugged. “I’ll figure it out as I go. Same as you.”

“Not exactly inspiring confidence,” Arav said.

Buddhi laughed. “Hey, we’ll survive. Just keep your head down and your stones safe. Speaking of which…” He pulled out his pouch and shook it. “What do you think they’ll make us do tomorrow?”

“Awaken prana,” Arav said. “That’s the first step, right?”

“Yeah, but how? Meditation? Combat drills? Maybe some kind of weird ritual?”

“Guess we’ll find out.”

Later that evening, Arav wandered back into the courtyard. Small groups of disciples were scattered around, talking in hushed tones.

“You think we’ll get to use those Dhara Stones for training tomorrow?”

“Doubt it. They’ll probably make us suffer first.”

“Suffer? What do you mean?”

“I overheard one of the instructors saying awakening prana is painful for most people.”

Arav sat on a low stone wall, listening to the chatter around him.

“Painful?” a boy said, his voice trembling. “What kind of pain are we talking about?”

“The kind that makes people give up,” another replied. “I heard some disciples never manage to awaken their prana at all.”

“That’s just a rumor,” said a girl confidently. “The instructors are here to guide us. We’ll be fine as long as we follow their lead.”

“Easy for you to say,” muttered the boy.

As the night wore on, the crowd thinned out. Arav stayed behind, leaning against a wooden post and staring at the lantern-lit paths.

A faint chill ran down his spine. He straightened, scanning his surroundings.

“Something wrong?” Buddhi asked, appearing out of nowhere.

“Nothing,” Arav said quickly, though the uneasy feeling lingered.

Far above, in the hidden depths of the Sun Peak, a solitary figure watched the courtyard through a shimmering pool of light. The Solstice Emperor’s voice was barely a whisper, but it carried an ancient, unyielding power.

“Bearer of Vishwaroop Kaal…” he murmured, his gaze fixed on Arav. “The cycle begins anew.”