Shiv stood still in the grand corridor of the Varma Palace, his father's parting words weighing heavily in his mind.
"If you lose control, it will devour you. And if you shame this clan with that flame — I will be the one to extinguish it."
The quiet threat behind those words echoed longer than the praise.
He clenched his fists.
Why would father—of all people—speak of Nāga-Tejas with such reverence and fear? Who sealed it away? Who feared it enough to erase it from history? He shook his head, lips tightening. He knows something… but he thinks I'm not ready to hear it.
With a bow of respect to the guards at the main hall, Shiv turned on his heel and left the palace, heading toward the quarters assigned to the younger generation. But before he could reach the familiar wing, an elder in silver robes intercepted him — thin, bearded, and always calm in demeanor.
It was Elder Kaushal, the one responsible for internal affairs and accommodations.
"Shiv," the elder said with a small smile. "No need to return there."
Shiv blinked. "Pardon?"
Kaushal gave a light chuckle. "The room you stayed in before — the outer quarters — are meant for unawakened members and those… of lesser status. But now, things are different. You've proven your strength and claimed the title of heir. By family decree, the strong are given what they earn."
He gestured down a separate path.
"Come. You are being assigned an inner courtyard residence — one befitting the heir of the Varma Clan."
Shiv raised an eyebrow. "And the other elders agreed to this?"
Kaushal's smile turned slightly wry. "Oh, many objected. Loudly. But when the family head himself endorses the order… even the snakes must slither in silence."
They walked through winding corridors, past intricate stone archways and carvings of dragons and sages. Eventually, Kaushal led him to a secluded part of the estate — quiet, lush, and brimming with tranquil energy.
"This was once the residence of the previous heir, years ago," Kaushal explained, opening the gate. "It now belongs to you."
The inner courtyard was beautiful — a small pond at the center with blooming lotuses, a training ground shaded by old banyan trees, and a modest manor house carved from blackwood and stone.
As Shiv entered, Kaushal handed him a scroll.
"Your official reward for winning the tournament — as per family tradition," he said. "One manual of your choice from the movement scripture vaults. The ones selected for you are here — Windstrider Steps, Drifting Leaf Form, and Serpent Coil Footwork. All are foundation-level arts for footwork and evasion."
Shiv took the scroll and unfurled it slightly. "Footwork, huh… the serpent form will suit me best."
"Wise choice," Kaushal nodded. "Additionally, you are entitled to 50,000 rupees — family currency. Use it to purchase weapons, pills, scrolls, anything from the inner market or even trade with other members. But remember, the family gives nothing for free. Everything must be earned or exchanged."
Shiv nodded. "Understood."
Kaushal's tone then shifted — deeper, more respectful.
"There is… one more thing."
Shiv looked up.
"By the order of the family head himself, you are granted entry to the Treasure Palace."
Shiv's eyes widened. "The Treasure Palace? That old legend is real?"
"Oh, it's very real," Kaushal replied. "An ancient structure left behind by the founding ancestors. A place blessed with dense spiritual energy and hidden opportunities. Few are ever granted access — it is reserved only for those seen as the future pillars of the clan."
Shiv remained silent for a moment, absorbing it all.
From being treated like a ghost in his own clan… to now being granted rights few could even dream of. And yet — in the silence of that inner courtyard — he felt the heavy chain of expectation settling around his shoulders.
This is only the beginning, he reminded himself. Strength draws attention… but it also invites danger.
Kaushal bowed slightly. "You may enter the Treasure Palace in three days. Rest, reflect, and prepare yourself. There are wonders within… but not all of them are kind."
As the elder left, Shiv stood by the pond, watching the ripples under moonlight.
Treasure Palace… Founders… Nāga-Tejas…
His hand unconsciously brushed over the hidden pocket in his robe where the sealed obsidian bottle still rested — cold, heavy, and waiting.
"I have to get stronger," he whispered to himself. "Strong enough that no one can take this from me — or fear me for having it."
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