The morning Arav turned ten did not arrive with ceremony.
No banners.
No announcements.
No sudden shift in the sky.
It came with dew on stone and the quiet certainty that something had reached its edge.
He woke before dawn, Vyomar already alert beside the bed, golden eyes reflecting the faint light filtering through the window. The lion had grown into his frame now—muscle settled, movements precise—but he still watched the world like a creature waiting for permission.
Arav sat up slowly and breathed.
The flame answered without sound.
It existed.
That was enough.
By the time the estate stirred, Aaryan was already in the courtyard, inspecting gear laid out in careful rows. Nothing extravagant. No relics or heavy armaments. Just practice blades, boundary markers, worn maps of family-held territory.
Sharanya watched from the steps, hands folded, expression thoughtful rather than worried.
Isha crouched nearby, arranging pebbles into a crooked circle while Furbols supervised gravely.
"This one's a gate," she declared. "And this one's a not-gate."
"What's the difference?" Meghala asked, appearing with a mug of something steaming and suspicious.
Isha squinted. "You only get hurt if you're not paying attention."
Meghala laughed. "Wise beyond your years."
Arav listened without smiling.
He felt it too.
The sense of threshold.
"Come," Aaryan said, gesturing Arav closer.
They walked the inner perimeter together, the path familiar from countless inspections. Today, though, the stones felt heavier underfoot—not threatening, just… final.
"You know why we waited," Aaryan said.
Arav nodded. "Control before exposure."
"And understanding before force."
They stopped near an old boundary marker, its surface worn smooth by time and weather. Beyond it lay managed territory—low-grade rift zones sealed and catalogued, monitored by Ashvathar formations for generations.
Not dangerous.
Not safe.
"You will not enter rifts yet," Aaryan continued. "Not as training. Not as a test."
Arav didn't protest. "I know."
"But you will see them," Aaryan said. "Up close. You will learn how they breathe. How they change the land. How people make mistakes around them."
Arav's chest tightened—not with fear, but anticipation carefully leashed.
"I won't fight," he said.
Aaryan's mouth twitched faintly. "Good. Anyone can fight. Few know when not to."
Behind them, Meghala leaned against a pillar, arms crossed. "He's ready," she said lightly. "At least to look."
Sharanya joined them, resting a hand on Arav's shoulder. "Remember," she murmured, "your strength isn't what you carry. It's what you leave untouched."
Arav nodded.
The system stirred then—not urgent, not dramatic. It never was.
[Sign-In Opportunity Detected]
Location: Family Boundary — Threshold Zone
Arav closed his eyes.
Sign in.
The sensation that followed was different from most rewards.
He didn't feel warmth or clarity.
He felt… orientation.
[Sign-In Complete]
Reward: Threshold Mark (Major)]
Description: Enhances perception and stability when crossing transitional zones. Effect increases with repeated exposure.]
Arav exhaled slowly.
A tool, not a weapon.
Perfect.
Isha looked up suddenly. "Bhaiya?"
"Yes?"
"Are you going somewhere?"
He smiled faintly. "Soon."
She nodded as if she'd expected that. "Okay. Furbols says to look down before you step."
Vyomar snorted softly, then stood and pressed his head briefly against Arav's side.
Later that day, they rode out—not far, not fast. Just enough to leave the estate's shadow.
The land changed subtly as they approached the first monitored zone. Grass thinned. Stones grew sharper. The air felt… stretched, like fabric pulled too tight.
Arav didn't reach for power.
He watched.
He noticed how guards adjusted their footing without thinking. How formations hummed faintly beneath the soil. How even birds avoided certain arcs of sky.
"This is what low-level rifts do," Aaryan explained quietly. "They don't announce themselves. They teach carelessness."
Arav absorbed everything.
He didn't step past the final marker.
Not yet.
That night, back within the estate, he lay awake longer than usual. The sense of orientation lingered, like a compass needle that had finally decided which way was forward.
He thought about the next years.
About preparation that would no longer be theoretical.
About dungeons he would enter—not to prove strength, but to earn familiarity.
About an academy gate waiting somewhere beyond the horizon.
Vyomar shifted beside him, settling with a huff.
"Soon," Arav whispered into the dark. "But not rushed."
Outside, the wind moved through the trees without disturbance.
The world hadn't opened its jaws.
But it had opened a door.
And for the first time, Arav stood old enough—and steady enough—to know exactly when to step through.