Deep beneath Himalaya Academy, where sunlight had never reached, a circular chamber lay carved into the heart of the mountain.
The Council Hall of Breath.
Stone pillars rose like frozen giants. At the center rested a fragment of the Breath Stone—cracked, fractured, and still faintly glowing with a dull white scar where Dev's hand had touched it.
The teachers sat in silence.
No chants.
No ceremony.
Only unease.
Master Raghav stood rigid, arms crossed behind his back. His voice finally broke the stillness.
"The results are inconsistent," he said. "Most students aligned as expected. Brahma, Vishnu, Mahesh—clear affinities. Clear limits."
An elder instructor scoffed. "Except one."
All eyes shifted to the scroll placed on the stone table.
Dev.
No glow recorded.
No breath frequency.
No measurable output.
Yet—
"The Breath Stone cracked," another teacher said quietly. "That has never happened. Not once. Not in recorded history."
A murmur rippled through the council.
"He released power without resonance," someone said.
"That defies spiritual law."
"If it cannot be measured, it cannot be taught."
Master Raghav clenched his jaw. "What we saw was not chaos."
He hesitated, then spoke carefully.
"It was recognition."
The word settled heavily.
At the far end of the hall, the Headmaster finally rose. His presence alone silenced the room.
"You are all thinking the same thing," he said calmly.
"And you are all afraid to say it."
He placed his hand near the cracked stone—but did not touch it.
"There are references," he continued, "in texts burned long before this academy stood. Mentions of a breath beyond creation, preservation, and destruction."
A younger instructor inhaled sharply. "You mean—"
"No," the Headmaster cut in. "I mean nothing that will be spoken aloud."
He turned to Dev's scroll.
"Dev will remain."
Instant protest erupted.
"He's unstable!"
"He could endanger the academy!"
"This is reckless!"
The Headmaster raised one finger.
"He will remain," he repeated, "as Observer-Class."
Silence.
"Unranked. Unclassified. Watched closely. Taught nothing beyond foundation control."
Master Raghav frowned. "And his housing?"
The Headmaster's gaze shifted—calculating.
"Balance," he said.
The Hostel
The student dormitories sat higher on the mountain, built of old cedar and stone. Wind hummed softly through prayer flags tied to the beams.
Dev stood outside one of the doors, his bag hanging loosely from his shoulder.
Observer-Class.
The words echoed uncomfortably.
Not accepted.
Not rejected.
Just… watched.
The door slid open suddenly.
"Yo."
Vansh stood there, grinning, bag slung over one shoulder.
"Looks like destiny wants us together, bro."
Dev blinked. "You too?"
"Mahesh Shwas dorms were 'too intense' apparently," Vansh said, rolling his eyes. "Guess destruction needs supervision."
They stepped inside.
The room was simple—three beds, wooden floor, one window overlooking the snowy cliffs. An oil lamp flickered softly near the window.
Someone else was already there.
A boy stood adjusting the lamp, his movements slow and precise, as if every motion mattered. He turned calmly.
"You must be Dev," he said.
"And Mahesh Shwas."
Vansh raised an eyebrow. "How'd you—"
"Your spiritual output is… loud," the boy replied evenly.
He gave a small, respectful bow.
"Aditya Shastri. Brahma Shwas."
Dev felt something strange then.
Not pressure.
Not fear.
Stability.
"You're not… uncomfortable?" Dev asked quietly.
Aditya studied him—not with suspicion, but curiosity.
"If creation fears the unknown," he said,
"it can never expand."
Vansh stared at him for a second.
"…Bro. Who talks like that?"
Aditya sighed. "My mother."
A small laugh escaped Dev before he could stop himself.
For the first time since the test, his chest loosened.
They settled into their beds as night crept in.
Outside, snow began to fall.
Vansh lay back, hands behind his head. "So. One creator, one destroyer, and one mystery guy."
He glanced at Dev. "Guess you're stuck with us."
Dev looked at his hands again.
"I don't even know what I am."
Aditya spoke softly from his bed.
"Neither does the world," he said.
"That doesn't make you dangerous."
Vansh smirked. "Yeah. We'll figure it out. Together."
The lamp dimmed.
As the three drifted toward sleep—
Vansh's breath pulsed hot and restless.
Aditya's flowed steady and golden.
Around Dev—
The air went still.
No glow.
No sound.
And far below the academy, deep within the mountain—
Something ancient inhaled.
As if remembering.