The first golden rays of dawn stretched across the horizon, casting Triveni Gurukul in a dreamlike glow. Birds—some real, others created through subtle enchantments—glided over sky-bridges and crystalline towers. Morning mist hugged the flower-lined paths as mana-fueled sprinklers retracted into the ground. The campus, blending magic and science, pulsed with a quiet energy—as if the land itself was awakening.
Inside Dorm 7B, the soft chime of the morning alarm rang out like a temple bell. Gentle, rhythmic. Commanding.
Pawan emerged from the bathroom, steam trailing behind him, the scent of fresh sandal soap in the air. He adjusted the collar of his sleek navy-blue jacket, the golden Triveni insignia shining on his back like a badge of destiny.
White shirt. Navy jacket. Black tactical trousers. Polished white boots.
A uniform meant not just to wear—but to earn.
Behind him, Krishna’s tuneless humming echoed from the bathroom.
Pawan frowned, glancing at the holo-clock on the wall.
“Krishna, hurry up! We’re going to be late for orientation!”
“Bro, chill! History is written by those who show up fashionably late!”
Pawan muttered under his breath and looked around.
Aditya was nearly ready—his sleeves crisp, every button aligned. Anand, though jittery, checked his appearance in the mirror for the tenth time. Ashish fastened his belt with calm precision. Arnab calibrated the feedback module of his cybernetic arm with a low hum of energy.
Minnie, floating silently above Arnab’s shoulder, scanned each boy with a diagnostic pulse.
Pawan clapped his hands once.
"Alright. We need breakfast. Any volunteers?"
Dead silence.
Krishna peeked out from the bathroom, toothbrush still in his mouth.
"Bro, I can cook…"
Pawan raised an eyebrow.
"Last time, you mixed toothpaste into the porridge."
Aditya chuckled.
"Yeah, count me out."
Ashish raised both hands in surrender.
"Not risking my life this early in the morning."
Minnie’s soft voice chimed in.
“My culinary functions lack emotional context and human taste preferences. Proceed at your own risk.”
Arnab laughed.
“Translation: we’ll survive, but we won’t enjoy it.”
Pawan sighed.
“Cafeteria it is.”
At that moment, Krishna’s stomach growled like a summoned beast. Everyone turned.
Aditya grinned.
“There’s our alarm clock.”
Arnab tapped his wristband. A translucent glyph-trail appeared on the floor, glowing soft blue like mana-touched fireflies.
As they stepped out, Triveni greeted them like a living painting.
Emerald lawns brushed their boots. Mana crystals blinked gently within flower beds. In the distance, upper-year students trained in open arenas, blades slicing through air and spells lighting up the sky like morning stars.
Hovering transports floated between towers. Screens displayed welcome messages in five languages. Above all, there was music—not mechanical, but a quiet hum in the wind. Like the academy itself was singing.
Krishna spun around in the gentle breeze, arms spread wide.
"Bro, if heaven exists, it must look like this!"
Aditya smirked.
"Keep dreaming. We haven’t even seen our class schedules yet."
Anand finally smiled too, his nervous shoulders relaxing as they walked.
Pawan followed just behind them, his steps steady, his breath calm. But even he couldn’t deny—
This place... it felt like something straight out of a story.
Krishna threw a playful glance over his shoulder.
"Remember this, boys. Our first dawn, our first breakfast, our first adventure."
Pawan shook his head with a small smile.
"Just... try not to get expelled before lunch, please."
They all laughed.
---
Triveni Gurukul – Food District Discovery
The group followed Arnab as he led them deeper into the heart of Triveni Gurukul. Morning light now poured freely across the sprawling campus, bathing everything in a soft, golden warmth. The crystalline pathways beneath their feet sparkled like morning dew frozen in time, while gentle winds carried the mixed scent of blooming flora and sizzling spices.
Every step revealed more of the Gurukul’s astonishing blend of nature and technology. Towering trees lined the walkways, their trunks pulsing with soft streams of glowing data—like veins of living light. Birds, some real and some mechanical, chirped in harmony above. Floating signboards rotated midair, displaying directions in multiple languages, and occasionally welcoming new students with a cheerful, "Have a magical day!"
As they turned a corner, the landscape suddenly opened into a massive, bustling plaza—alive with color, sound, and the hum of hundreds of students.
Krishna halted abruptly, blinking at the scene before him. His jaw nearly dropped.
“Wait... is this a shopping mall?! Bro, we came for food—not a fashion parade!”
Arnab chuckled, flicking his wrist to reveal a glowing holomap that floated just above his palm.
“Relax, prince of hunger. This is the cafeteria area. Well... kind of. Triveni doesn’t just have a food court—it has an entire food district.”
And it was true.
Cafés and stalls sprawled across the plaza, each with their own unique charm. Floating menus hovered above diners’ heads. Open-air tea pavilions shimmered with mystical energy, their brews brewed by charms instead of kettles. Culinary students proudly ran live-cooking booths, their uniforms decorated with enchanted aprons that cleaned themselves. One vendor sold glowing fruits; another hawked spice blends that danced in mid-air to showcase their flavor. Every stall bore the silver-blue crest of Triveni Gurukul, a mark of approval—and ownership.
Arnab turned to the group with a grin.
“Your student ID works like a payment card. First meal's covered by the Gurukul—so eat like royals.”
With hungry excitement, the group exchanged glances, then scattered, each following their nose and curiosity into the enchanted marketplace of flavors.
---
Krishna & Aditya – At Solar Sip
Krishna and Aditya found themselves drawn to a sleek café tucked into the corner of the plaza: Solar Sip.
The place looked like a fusion of elegance and tech—walls made of translucent material flickered with living artwork, each piece shifting between surreal natural vistas and cosmic themes. The air smelled of roasted beans, fresh herbs, and warm bread. A gentle melody played in the background, changing subtly with each table’s mood.
They settled near a sunlit window. Outside, students passed by laughing, sipping enchanted lattes that sparkled slightly in the light.
Krishna exhaled deeply as he collapsed into his chair.
“Bro, I’m starving. I could eat a dragon.”
He tapped the glowing menu that hovered above the table. With practiced flair, he swiped his hand through the options and selected a triple-stuffed veggie sandwich and a dark roast elemental coffee.
“Boom. Breakfast of champions. What about you?”
Aditya took his time, scrolling with curious eyes. Then, with a grin, he tapped the same order.
“Same as you. Let’s not get too fancy on day one.”
Moments later, a student waiter arrived—probably a second-year. He wore a clean white apron over his uniform, a soft glow on his badge reading: Culinary Track – Level 2. With a polite nod and practiced grace, he placed the plates and mugs on the table.
The aroma hit them instantly — the rich scent of roasted spices, fresh-baked bread, and the deep, bittersweet pull of perfectly brewed coffee.
Krishna didn’t hesitate. He grabbed a plate, took a massive bite, and his eyes widened as flavor exploded across his tongue.
"Mmmmh! What is this? This... this is heaven! Who would've thought Gurukul food could taste this good?!"
Aditya sipped his coffee, the rich brew leaving a warm trail down his throat. He chuckled at Krishna’s dramatics.
“You sound like you’ve been fasting for a week.”
Krishna grinned, still chewing.
“Not fasting. Surviving. This? This is how legends start their day.”
The two boys laughed, clinking their coffee mugs together like warriors before battle.
Neither of them noticed the tiny holographic number glowing quietly at the corner of their trays:
?100 deducted from Monthly Credits.
But for now, the food was too good, the moment too perfect, and the day still young.
Mitti & Magic – Where Earth Meets Essence
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Elsewhere on the campus, away from the vibrant buzz of floating food stalls and caffeinated chaos, a quieter trio—Arnab, Ashish, and Anand—had gravitated toward a cozier corner of Triveni’s food district.
The café was called Mitti & Magic.
Its entrance was framed by woven vines and wind-chimes that whispered with each passing breeze. Inside, soft golden lighting illuminated rustic wooden interiors. The aroma of spiced herbs, slow-cooked grains, and freshly baked bread infused the air like a lullaby. This place didn’t demand attention—it welcomed it with warmth.
The staff were hybrid androids—elegantly designed with gentle features, a blend of organic flesh and polished alloy. Their voices were calm, their movements flawless, blending artificial precision with the comfort of human familiarity.
Anand, looking slightly overwhelmed by the magic-tech overload of the day, stared at the floating menu nervously.
“Umm... I think I’ll just go with toast and fruit juice. Something simple.”
Ashish nodded in agreement, his gaze calm but thoughtful.
“Same here. I’m not trying to blow my credits on the first day.”
Arnab grinned as he tapped his selection on the menu interface.
“Ah, budget squad. Respect. I’ll have the veggie dumplings and a mineral broth. Light, but fancy.”
Within minutes, their meals arrived—presented with care on warm, earthy ceramic plates. The food wasn’t flashy. It didn’t sparkle, levitate, or hum with enchantments. But it nourished. It calmed.
Each of them had only spent ?50—modest choices for the start of a long journey.
As they ate in the mellow ambiance, Arnab flicked two fingers over his ID band. A soft chime later, a holographic display hovered above the table: the Gurukul Budget App.
Charts. Credit balances. Upgrade options. Training bonuses. Tournament rewards. It was a detailed ecosystem of self-sufficiency.
“We’ve got to be smart,” Arnab explained. “The Gurukul gives us a base monthly allowance. But if we want extras—gear, books, better meals—we’ll need to earn credits. Training, tournaments, part-time work. It’s all fair game.”
Anand leaned forward, absorbing every word like it was more important than any meal.
“So... this place really is about building our future. Not just with power, but responsibility too.”
Ashish offered a faint but sincere smile, his voice quiet.
“Yeah. But we’ve got each other. That makes it easier to face whatever’s coming.”
In that little café, with nothing more than simple food and simple truths, a foundation was laid.
A bond that didn’t need loud promises.
Just quiet understanding.
---
Stitched Together by Destiny
Before parting ways, the entire group had done something small but meaningful—they synced their Student IDs, enabling real-time location sharing across campus. It was meant to help them not get lost in the vast labyrinth of Triveni Gurukul.
But it did something more.
It tethered them to each other. A safety net in an unfamiliar world.
Each of them was stepping into something massive—new systems, new rules, strange wonders, and unknown threats.
But within just a day, something had begun to form.
Friendship. Trust. Possibility.
Bonds that might one day save their lives.
Or break them.
---
Pawan – The Quiet Walk
After splitting from his friends, Pawan wandered alone into the student district.
Not aimlessly. Just... searching for silence.
The weight of change pressed gently on his shoulders. The joy of passing Triveni’s exam, the thrill of his first day, the chaos of Krishna’s antics—they were all beautiful, yes. But overwhelming.
He needed stillness.
The student district was alive with its own rhythm. Shopkeepers called out enchantments instead of discounts. Android assistants cleaned windows with precision and a smile. Students worked behind counters, practicing customer service as part of their learning modules. Even the streetlamps glowed with ambient mana, changing hues with the time of day.
As Pawan walked, his eyes passed over the storefronts—grocery outlets glowing with preservation wards, tech booths with repair drones hovering, kiosks selling rune-inscribed charms, even a tattoo parlor offering “identity-linked body runes.” He chuckled under his breath.
“Triveni really has everything.”
But then he saw it.
Tucked quietly at the far edge of the plaza—almost as if hidden on purpose—was a café unlike the others.
Silver Petals.
Its name floated in elegant script above the door, traced in silvery light that pulsed softly like fireflies at dusk. Gentle petals, real and illusionary, drifted through the air around the entrance. A glowing bell chimed with a melodic hum as he pushed the door open.
Inside... was stillness.
No crowd. No music blaring. Just a soft melody whispering from unseen speakers. The faint scent of cardamom, warm milk, and freshly baked bread hung in the air.
There were no other customers.
Pawan walked to the counter. A soft glow followed him across the tiled floor.
“One warm milk. And a buttered bread roll,” he said softly.
The voice that took the order didn’t answer.
But footsteps approached.
---
The Girl in Silver Light
She emerged from behind the curtain that led to the kitchen.
And in that moment, the world softened.
She was luminous, not in a flashy way—but in a way that made everything around her dim by comparison. Her silver glow was not projected or artificial—it felt natural, like she was born of moonlight and serenity.
She wore a slate-colored kurta, paired with a long wrap that flowed behind her like water. No student badge. No teacher’s insignia. No title.
Just... presence.
Her eyes, deep as still lakes, held stories of pain, patience, and power. They met Pawan’s gaze, and for a fleeting instant, he forgot to breathe.
She walked gently, every step like a ripple in silence. She placed the tray before him with the grace of a falling feather.
No words. Just a small, knowing nod.
Pawan blinked, confused and captivated. Was she a student? A professor? A spirit?
He hadn’t meant to speak.
But the words slipped out before he could stop them.
“Wait… are you a student too?”
The girl paused mid-step. Her silver-glowing form stiffened slightly, not out of surprise—but as if calculating whether or not he was worth answering.
“What?”
Her voice was calm, but the edge was unmistakable.
Pawan raised his hands slightly, one still holding the soft bread roll.
“I just meant… you look older than the rest of us. Not exactly first-year energy, you know?”
The second the words left his mouth, he winced.
Stupid.
She didn’t look older—she looked... refined, composed, intimidatingly graceful. But now he sounded like some smug kid trying to crack jokes in a sacred temple.
Her eyes narrowed—silver pools with the sharpness of moonlit blades.
“And who gave you the right to judge, boy?”
That ‘boy’ landed like a slap.
Pawan straightened in his seat immediately, his posture shifting from casual to contrite.
“You’re right. That was rude. I skipped breakfast… and I think the hunger scrambled my manners more than my stomach.”
A beat of silence. Her gaze lingered on him, weighing the sincerity in his apology.
Then, without a word, she stepped around the table and sat across from him.
“Apology accepted. Just this once.”
Pawan exhaled—a subtle but real breath of relief.
“Thanks. That was close.”
A faint smirk touched her lips, a glimmer of amusement breaking through the frost.
“You’re lucky I skipped my coffee this morning. Might’ve frozen you where you sat.”
“Duly noted,” Pawan chuckled. “Mental note: never insult café staff before breakfast.”
She leaned back, one leg crossed over the other, arms folded casually.
“I’m not a student,” she said. “I own this place.”
That caught him completely off guard.
“Wait—what? I thought all of this was managed by the Gurukul?”
She shook her head slightly, her long wrap shifting with the motion like smoke on silk.
“Not entirely. Triveni runs an exclusive contract system. Independent businesses can operate here, provided they contribute to the campus ecosystem. We hire students, train them, guide them. A mutual benefit deal.”
Pawan nodded, intrigued despite himself.
“That’s… smart. Real-world experience baked into the structure.”
“Exactly,” she said, watching him curiously. “I opened Silver Petals just last week. But if I want to stay, I’ll need student staff soon.”
His lips quirked in amusement. The spark of mischief was back.
“So… can I get a job?”
She raised an eyebrow, arching it with such graceful sharpness it could’ve sliced paper.
“Why would I hire a rude boy who judged me five seconds into meeting?”
Pawan placed a hand on his chest with mock sincerity.
“Touché. But I believe in redemption. Let me earn back your favor. I’m Pawan. Pawan Singh. First-year. Probably broke by next week.”
That earned him something unexpected—a laugh. Not loud, not forced.
Soft. Real.
“You’re honest. I’ll give you that.”
“And you are?” he asked.
“Aradhya,” she said simply. “Owner, manager… and apparently waitress for now.”
Pawan smiled.
“Nice to meet you, Aradhya.”
The café fell into a calm silence, punctuated only by the occasional flicker of magical lanterns on the walls and the sound of Pawan dipping his buttered roll into warm milk. The first bite was soft, soothing—comfort food in its purest form.
He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the warmth settle into his chest.
“This place is different,” he said at last. “It’s peaceful. Feels like I stepped out of Gurukul’s chaos.”
Her voice softened too, something almost wistful in her tone.
“It’s meant to be. Every warrior needs a place to breathe.”
---
Outside, Triveni Gurukul pulsed with life—students training, learning, competing. The gears of the grand academy turned without pause.
But inside that quiet silver café, something else had begun.
A soft thread had been spun between two souls:
One searching for direction.
The other guarding a fragile corner of peace.
Neither of them knew it yet,
But this quiet meeting, over milk and bread,
Was the beginning of something that would echo far beyond Silver Petals.
Silver Petals – A Moment Between
The soft hum of ambient music drifted through the Silver Petals Café, mingling seamlessly with the comforting aroma of freshly baked bread and warm spiced milk. Light from floating firefly-lanterns flickered gently against the slate-gray walls, casting dappled shadows across the polished wood tables.
Pawan and Aaradhya sat across from each other, caught in a stillness that felt suspended from time.
Outside, the world of Triveni Gurukul buzzed—students hurried to their next classes, merchants chanted their enchanted wares, androids zipped by on errands. But in here, all of that faded into silence. In here, there was only now.
They had only just met—strangers not more than ten minutes ago—but there was already a strange tranquility between them. A quiet rhythm in the way their conversation had slowed, how they each observed the other without rush or judgment.
Aaradhya’s presence was unlike anyone Pawan had encountered. Wrapped in silver serenity, she wasn’t trying to impress or intrigue. She simply was. And that stillness—so rare in the world he knew—radiated a dangerous kind of comfort.
For someone like him, who’d grown used to keeping emotions behind walls, who kept his distance from anything that could lead to pain—this peace felt like a trap.
A beautiful one.
He dipped a piece of soft bread into the warm milk, then smiled as he took a bite.
“You know... for a place I just stumbled into, this might already be my favorite spot.”
Aaradhya glanced up, her expression amused.
“Even though I nearly threw you out?”
Pawan gave a sheepish shrug, chewing.
“You gave me breakfast. That makes up for attempted exile.”
She chuckled quietly, a gentle sound that matched the flicker of warmth in her eyes. She tucked a silver strand of hair behind her ear, just as the moment began to settle into something... tender.
But peace never lasted long.
---
Disrupted Serenity
> “Seriously, bro? We’ve been out here searching for you—and you’re flirting?!”
The voice stabbed through the air like a slap.
Pawan didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before slowly rotating in his seat.
Standing at the café’s entrance, arms dramatically flailing and face twisted into mock betrayal, was Krishna. And behind him stood the entire search party—Arnab, Aditya, Ashish, and Anand—looking like they’d just interrupted a royal secret meeting.
Pawan raised one hand, the other still occupied with half a buttered roll.
“Just five more minutes, please.”
Krishna strode in theatrically, his gaze darting between Pawan and Aaradhya with suspicious intensity. He squinted at her, clearly not buying her peaceful appearance.
“You already have Chee, and—”
Pawan’s glare cut through the café like a blade.
Sharp. Warning. Deadly.
Krishna stopped mid-sentence. Eyes wide. Lips sealed.
“Aaand... we’ll wait outside!” he declared, executing a perfect 180-degree spin and bolting out the door with the others scrambling behind him.
---
Outside the Silver Petals
The group stood awkwardly just beyond the café’s dreamy entrance, surrounded by fluttering petals and glowing signage.
Beside Krishna floated Minnie, her holographic form flickering faintly in the daylight. She narrowed her digital eyes.
“Do you really think something’s happening between Pawan and... that girl?”
Krishna scoffed, arms crossed tightly, though his tone betrayed a hint of jealousy.
“With Pawan? Anything’s possible. You don’t know him like I do. He’s got ridiculous lady luck—it runs in the family.”
Minnie arched a skeptical brow.
“You’re exaggerating again.”
Krishna raised a finger dramatically.
“Am I? Let’s play a game—raise your hand if you have a girlfriend.”
The group exchanged awkward glances, then unanimously shook their heads.
Krishna grinned smugly.
“Exactly. Meanwhile, Pawan’s got Chee, who’s basically a goddess. Then there’s Nisha, who might—might—end up becoming his wife. That may have been partially my doing…”
Everyone turned to him.
He froze.
“Anyway! My point is—he’s dangerous. The guy flirts without realizing it. He even flirts with my sister! I’m telling you—it's a supernatural condition!”
Their blank stares didn’t help his case.
Minnie leaned closer to Aditya, her voice lowered into a mock-whisper.
“I’m starting to think both Pawan and Krishna are completely unhinged.”
Pawan finished the last bite of his buttered roll and gently placed his empty cup down, the warm residue still lingering on his lips and in his chest. There was a peace in this café—one that didn’t come from spells or architecture, but from presence. Her presence.
He glanced across the table at Aaradhya, who was already watching him with that quiet, assessing look.
“So…” he asked with a playful grin, “do I get the job or not?”
She didn’t answer immediately.
Her eyes studied him again—not just his face, but his manner, his sincerity, his ease. In a place like Triveni, where everyone wore masks of ambition or pride, this boy was unfiltered, chaotic… honest.
“You’re stubborn,” she said at last. “Unpredictable.”
A pause.
“But honest.”
She uncrossed her arms and tapped her fingers gently on the edge of the table.
“Alright. I’ll offer you ?100 credits per hour. Standard rate. Take it or leave it.”
Pawan’s eyes lit up, the grin blooming across his face.
“Taken. Starting tomorrow, boss.”
He rose to his feet, the chair sliding softly behind him. As he reached the door, he threw a glance over his shoulder, two fingers lifted in a casual salute.
“See you soon.”
The bell above the door chimed gently as he walked out, leaving behind the scent of spiced milk and something else—a quiet promise.
---
Reunited Outside
As soon as Pawan stepped outside, the world returned to its usual noise—buzzing drones, floating menu scrolls, and his friends waiting impatiently under a glowing sign.
Krishna was already mid-dramatic-mime, pretending to faint in shock. But the moment Pawan met his eyes, Krishna zipped his lips and straightened.
“So?” Krishna asked, his expression wide-eyed and far too innocent. “What exactly just happened in there?”
Pawan walked past him, hands in his pockets, a soft smile playing on his lips.
“I got the job.”
The group blinked, processing it.
“Wait, what?” Aditya blurted out. “You were in there for, like… fifteen minutes. You found a job already?”
Pawan shrugged as if it were no big deal.
“Like Arnav said—Gurukul only gives us limited credits per month. I figured I’d cover my extra expenses myself.”
Krishna threw an arm around Pawan’s shoulder and dramatically declared to the skies:
"I told you! When it’s Pawan Singh’s luck, nothing is ever too hard!"
Ashish chuckled, and Anand gave a quiet, genuinely impressed nod.
Arnav adjusted his band, projecting the current time from a light glyph.
“As inspiring as this all is, we’ve got five minutes before the opening ceremony starts. If we don’t move now, we’ll be inspiring ourselves from outside the auditorium.”
---
Toward Destiny
The group turned as one, their banter fading into a determined silence. Ahead of them, Triveni Gurukul’s towering arches gleamed under the morning sun, its spires etched with ancient symbols and shimmering modern tech. Floating bridges connected majestic towers, and gardens bloomed with colors not found anywhere else in the world.
The wind whispered with unseen magic. The golden rays cast long, stretching shadows behind them—as if their pasts were fading while the future rose in front of them.
But this wasn’t just a school.
This was the start of something far greater.
And as they walked toward the heart of the Gurukul, unaware of the legends they were about to become, destiny—silent and patient—watched from the sidelines.
The journey had only just begun.
---
The Grand Celestia Hall – Dawn of Destiny
A soft golden radiance cascaded through the arched, crystalline ceiling of Grand Celestia Hall, bathing the marble floors in a divine glow. It was as if the morning sun itself had descended to bless the hall with its presence. Columns carved from purest white stone stretched toward the heavens, their surfaces etched with glowing ancient runes—symbols of Uri’s resilience, Alok’s flames, Rice’s winds, and Sine’s wisdom—the four continents that made up the known world.
Above, celestial harmonies whispered from invisible instruments, wrapping around the gathered students like a lullaby composed by the stars. The air shimmered with an ethereal stillness, not silence—but reverence.
It didn’t feel like an auditorium.
It felt like a sacred place.
A place where myths were born.
Lined up in neat rows stood hundreds of first-year students, the boys dressed in crisp white shirts, navy-blue jackets embroidered with the Triveni emblem, black trousers, and polished white boots that glinted beneath the soft lighting. Their uniforms gave them the appearance of young knights awaiting knighthood—noble, proud, and utterly wide-eyed.
The girls wore the same dignified colors, but with pleated skirts, navy jackets, and knee-high boots that combined elegance and strength. Their hair was styled in countless ways—braids, buns, high ponytails, or flowing loose—each girl a unique reflection of promise. Beneath the glow of the Grand Hall, they all looked like radiant constellations gathered for a celestial alignment.
Pawan, Krishna, Arnav, Aditya, Ashish, and Anand stood among the crowd, barely able to process the enormity of the space around them. The hall wasn’t just big—it was grand in a way that made their hearts race with awe.
“This place looks like a palace straight out of mythology,” Arnav whispered, his voice full of wonder as he tilted his head toward the gleaming arches.
Krishna, ever grinning, leaned in.
“No,” he said with a gleam in his eye. “This is where legends are made.”
Suddenly, the golden light dimmed.
A hush fell like velvet over the crowd.
From the ceiling, a glowing platform descended—silent, slow, majestic. Upon it stood a man who radiated the calm authority of a deity and the wisdom of an ancient star. His white robes flowed like liquid moonlight, embroidered with streaks of silver and midnight blue. His long hair shimmered with flecks of starlight, and when he raised his hand, it felt as if even the air paused to listen.
“Welcome,” he said, his voice deep yet warm—like an old hymn. “To Triveni Gurukul.”
“I am Rishidev, head of this institution—and the witness of generations of brilliance.”
The students leaned forward, their breath held collectively as he spoke.
“Each year, young seekers like you arrive—strangers from different lands, carrying different dreams.”
“But only those who endure… only those who dare to seek the truth… will leave this place as warriors, scholars, innovators, and legends.”
His voice echoed through the marble chamber, leaving a shiver in its wake.
“Here, you will not only learn to wield your powers. You will learn to master your heart. You will walk through magic, technology, myth, and science. And you will be tested—in ways you cannot yet imagine.”
“Remember this: your future does not lie in your bloodline, nor your Vardaan. It lies in your choices. That… is the true power.”
He let the silence that followed act as ink—letting each word settle into their minds, branding them like an invisible vow.
“Triveni does not offer ease. It offers truth. And those brave enough to face it… will rise.”
For a breathless second, there was only silence.
Then—applause erupted like thunder. Hands clapped, boots stomped, voices rose. The very walls of the Grand Celestia Hall seemed to hum with approval, proud of the young souls gathered beneath its ancient ceiling.
The music swelled, blooming into a triumphant anthem.
Pawan turned toward Krishna, whose eyes sparkled like a child at a fair.
“Did you hear that?” Krishna nudged him, nearly bouncing in place. “Warrior. Legend. Hero. Dibs on all three.”
Pawan smirked, arms folded.
“You’ll be lucky if you survive cafeteria food without summoning a demon.”
Arnav, ever the planner, discreetly whispered to Minnie through his hololink.
“Log this moment in memory. I want to remember what we felt… when it all began.”
Minnie’s soft, electronic voice replied like a lullaby in his ear.
“Memory saved: The birth of something unforgettable.”
Then, like a final blessing from the heavens, sparkling particles of starlight began to rain down from the arched ceiling—gentle, glowing, weightless. Each one touched the heads of the new students, bestowing upon them a shimmer of divine energy—a symbolic first step into the unknown.
And so, beneath that falling light, their journey began.
Not with fanfare.
But with purpose.
To be continued......
