CHAPTER 154: NEW ABILITY

The battlefield had quieted, but Zorawar’s heart hadn’t.

Blood still stained his knuckles. Pain still echoed in his muscles. His breaths came short, shallow — not from exhaustion, but from something deeper.

And yet, all of that faded the moment he turned to look beside him.

The beast stood silently.

It didn’t growl. It didn’t bark. It simply existed — calm, composed, and eternal — like it had always been there, waiting for something... or someone.

Its fur was a deep midnight-blue, darker than the sky above, shimmering faintly beneath the soft light of the rising moon. Its golden eyes held no fear, no hostility. Only quiet recognition.

Zorawar could barely breathe.

Something tugged at his chest — not fear, not even awe... but familiarity. Like this creature, this impossible being, had always been part of his story... just waiting for the right page.

A strange current pulsed between them. A thread. A bond.

Not of command. Not of dominance.

But of recognition.

Like a forgotten part of himself... had come home.

Kairav approached slowly, his steps light, cautious. One hand drifted near his sword, just in case. But his gaze stayed locked on the wolf.

"That’s no ordinary wolf," he muttered. His voice was more breath than sound. "That’s a Spirit Beast."

Zorawar’s lips parted, but words didn’t come. His hand lifted, shaking slightly, and extended toward the beast.

He expected it to snarl... to vanish... to turn away.

But it stepped forward.

Softly. Surely.

And rested its head gently beneath his trembling palm.

Zorawar’s hand trembled against the warm fur. Beneath his palm, the beast’s heartbeat pulsed steady and strong — as if syncing with his own.

His lips parted again. "I’ve lost so many... but you... you feel like something I didn’t know I was missing."

The wolf raised its head and looked up at him again. And in those golden eyes, Zorawar didn’t see a beast. He saw memory.

"I don’t understand this," he said, voice cracking. "But I don’t want to let it go."

A wind stirred around them. Not from the forest... but from within. A stillness that felt like an answer.

The beast let out a low, deep hum — a sound like thunder resting beneath the earth — and sat beside him.

Not as a pet.

Not as a creature.

But as a companion.

Kairav remained still, then gave a small nod of understanding.

"You’ve been chosen, Zorawar."

He stepped closer now, his hand falling away from his blade.

"Spirit Beasts don’t follow orders. They follow purpose."

His eyes met Zorawar’s.

"And that means... you’re not ordinary either."

Later That Night – Guhashram

The firelight danced softly along the curved walls of the stone corridors. Guhashram was quieter than usual — not from fear, but from peace.

Most had fallen asleep after another day of breathing drills, footwork, and long silences meant to teach patience. But Zorawar sat alone, legs tucked beneath him, eyes fixed on the dark tunnel ceiling above.

Dren lay beside him — the name Zorawar had given the Spirit Beast.

He had chosen it because it sounded like strength... and sorrow.

He tilted his head up toward the carved skylight — the only view to the stars, carefully etched by Kairav long ago.

"Do you think... Amma would’ve liked you?"

His voice cracked halfway through the sentence. He didn’t wipe his eyes when the sting came.

Dren didn’t answer, of course. But he lifted his head, then gently rested it on Zorawar’s lap.

And that said more than words ever could.

His fingers gently ran along Dren’s back as the fire cracked in the distance.

"I still dream of her," he whispered. "She used to hum this song when I couldn’t sleep... I don’t remember the tune. Just the way it made me feel."

Dren lifted his head, ears twitching slightly, as if listening.

"I thought I had to get stronger to take revenge." Zorawar paused. "But now I wonder... if maybe I’m supposed to get stronger to protect."

He looked up again at the stars.

"I hope you can guide me. Because I don’t know who I am without her."

Zorawar exhaled, long and slow.

For the first time since the flames took everything, the weight on his chest loosened... just a little.

The Following Weeks...

Time became a blur — stitched together by routine, by silence, by growth.

Zorawar began walking farther from the safety of Guhashram. Sometimes with Vyuk. Often alone.

Dren followed quietly, always close. Like a shadow made of warmth and intent.

They traveled through forests still healing from ruin, streams carrying ash, and villages rebuilding with cracked hands and hopeful hearts.

Zorawar helped where he could — lifting logs, guarding children, calming frightened elders — but something inside him kept tugging.

He wasn’t just looking to help.

He was searching for something.

Peace?

Power?

Redemption?

He didn’t know. Not yet.

One Morning...

The riverbank shimmered in the early light, mist dancing like ghosts across the surface.

Zorawar crouched, fingers dipped into the cold stream. He scooped water into his flask — then froze.

A sound.

Soft.

A heartbeat... too faint.

He turned and saw it.

A tiny bird. Barely breathing. Its wing twisted at a sick angle, chest stained red. Its eyes fluttered open, blinking up at him in confusion. In pain.

Zorawar’s pulse quickened. His fingers hovered above it.

He reached into his satchel, fumbling. "I need herbs... a salve... something..."

But he had nothing.

"Why am I always too late...?"

His voice broke. "Please don’t die. I’m not ready to lose anyone else."

The bird blinked up at him, like it understood.

Dren stepped forward, his eyes glowing faintly — and then... the drop fell.

"No... not again."

He clenched his jaw.

"I can’t let you die too."

But he didn’t know what to do.

He wasn’t a healer. He wasn’t a mage. He was just...

Just—

A drop of blood.

Dren had stepped forward, and as his paw brushed a stone, a single drop of blood fell.

It touched the bird.

And everything changed.

A golden shimmer erupted from the point of contact — soft and brilliant, like starlight under water.

Zorawar stumbled back, gasping.

The bird began to twist.

Feathers hardened into glowing plates. Bones realigned. Wings stretched wide — longer, sharper, faster. The tail sparked like a lightning bolt.

It flapped once... twice...

And hovered in the air.

Alive. Changed. Reborn.

Zorawar’s voice trembled. "Did I... just create that?"

The bird floated in the air — light and fierce.

Its wings no longer flapped, they cut the air with grace. Its eyes shimmered like tiny embers.

Zorawar reached out again, his voice a whisper.

"You’re not just alive..."

His throat tightened.

"You’re... something new."

He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the warmth on his shoulder.

"Vira."

He didn’t know why the name came. But it fit.

"That’s your name."

He reached up, barely daring to breathe. The bird — no longer just a bird — fluttered down to perch on his shoulder.

It chirped once — electric, strange, alive.

Not just healed.

Reforged.

Reimagined.

Back at Guhashram...

The phoenix-bird perched calmly as Kairav circled it slowly.

His eyes were sharp. His posture stiff.

"You fused a beast," he said coldly.

Zorawar nodded slowly. "It wasn’t on purpose. I didn’t even mean to. I just... wanted to save it."

Kairav said nothing at first. He leaned in, studying the creature — its feathers, its glow, the Pran that radiated from its body like heat off stone.

"This is Creation Magic," he muttered. "Born from within... but through instinct, not discipline."

His tone grew heavier.

"Creation, without understanding... leads to destruction."

Zorawar looked down. His hands trembled.

"I just wanted... to help."

Kairav’s voice softened, but didn’t lose its edge.

"And that’s noble. But power born from desperation... is still power."

He stepped closer and placed a hand on Zorawar’s shoulder.

"Promise me this — you’ll never create for pride, power, or control. Only to protect."

Zorawar clenched his fists.

Then slowly nodded.

"I promise."

Meanwhile...

The wind whispered through the training courtyard.

Vyuk sat still — eyes closed, breath calm, legs crossed.

At first, he was only trying to sense the flow of Pran in the air.

But then... he began to sense more.

He could feel the heartbeat of a bird on the ledge.

He could hear the pulse shift when someone behind the wall grew nervous.

He could sense Zorawar’s return... and the strange, divine shift within him.

Vyuk opened his eyes, slowly.

"I can’t fall behind. Not now."

His gaze sharpened.

"They’re going to need me. More than ever."

Later That Night...

The room was quiet.

Dren lay curled at Zorawar’s feet. The bird — now named Vira — perched silently on a high wooden beam, glowing faintly with blue fire.

Zorawar sat in the dark, back against the stone wall.

Eyes open.

Breathing steady.

He spoke softly.

"I don’t know what I am anymore."

The words echoed off the walls.

"Maybe I’m not meant to be what the world expects."

He glanced up at Vira. Then down at Dren.

Their eyes glowed in the silence — waiting. Watching.

"Maybe I’m meant to be... what the world needs."