Morning peace in the Rudra household, Eklavya decided, was clearly a temporary illusion — the kind that lasted exactly until family members began talking. His mother placed the breakfast neatly on the table beside his bed and said gently, “Go, wash up as soon as possible.”

  Eklavya nodded obediently, though his eyes slid toward his elder brother, who was still shaking slightly with suppressed laughter, clearly proud of his earlier crime involving ice and betrayal. Eklavya ground his teeth in silent vengeance and marched toward the bathroom with the determined dignity of someone planning future retaliation.

  Behind him, Aashi sat on the bed and began folding the blanket with practiced care, smoothing each crease as though restoring order after a minor domestic battle. A few minutes later, after placing the folded blanket neatly at the corner and adjusting the bedsheet, she glanced toward Ashish, who lounged comfortably in the chair near the door like an innocent spectator rather than the architect of chaos.

  “Wasn’t that a little too much?” she asked mildly. Ashish shrugged without guilt. “No, Mom. Not at all. That sleepy head was asking for it.” He spoke just loudly enough for his voice to travel into the bathroom, where Eklavya was washing his face with unnecessary force. Aashi chuckled softly. “Well, it’s a matter between you two. I won’t interfere.”

  From inside the bathroom came Eklavya’s voice, perfectly timed and dripping with mock innocence. “Oh? I remember hearing a scream yesterday morning — someone about to get beaten for not waking up before ten o’clock. I believe I was passing by your room, big brother.”

  He stepped out while drying his hair, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. ‘That was my revenge,’ he thought proudly. Ashish immediately straightened, glaring. “So what if I wasn’t waking up? I didn’t get beaten! It was only going to happen — and I woke up before it started.”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Eklavya nodded dramatically. “Exactly. That’s what I’m saying. I learn from my elders. If I sleep longer, clearly it’s because I inherited the habit from you. Therefore, logically speaking, it wasn’t my mistake.” Aashi, now seated on the bed, watched the exchange unfold with a genuine smile, clearly enjoying the morning entertainment more than she intended to admit.

  Ashish scoffed. “Wow, Ek. You really managed to blame everything on me.” Before the conversation could evolve into a full-scale sibling war, Aashi raised a hand. “Alright, that’s enough. Eklavya, you’re dressed now — come eat your breakfast.”

  Eklavya obediently sat near the tray just as footsteps approached. Ishant entered the room, his presence instantly shifting the atmosphere despite the lingering humour. “Oh?” he said, observing the scene. “Things seem lively here.”

  Aashi replied lightly, “Nothing serious. Just a little joking.” Ishant took the chair across from the table, posture straight, gaze settling on Eklavya with quiet intensity. “How are you feeling now?” he asked. Eklavya looked up briefly. “I’m fine.” The answer was simple, but Ishant’s expression did not soften entirely.

  Concern, authority, and restrained worry blended in his eyes — the look of a clan leader who was also a father trying not to show fear. After a brief pause, Ishant continued, voice steady but firm. “What happened last night? When we heard your scream, everyone came running. Even the elders heard it.”

  Ashish folded his arms beside the door, his earlier amusement gone, replaced by tension mirroring their father’s seriousness. The memory pressed against Eklavya’s mind — pain, visions, shattered consciousness — yet none of it felt explainable. He pressed his fingers lightly against his temples, buying time. The truth existed, but it was far too complicated, far too dangerous to share.

  The inheritance, the blood pool, the memories that were not his—how could he explain something he barely understood himself? After a moment, he answered honestly in the only way he could.

  “I… don’t remember, Dad. I was cultivating, and suddenly my head started hurting too badly.” His voice remained calm, but inside, questions churned again. Whatever had awakened within him last night had not merely exhausted him — it had changed something fundamental. And judging by the way his father continued watching him, Ishant suspected that too.