Three days had passed since the Trial of the Servant Flame.
But the whispers had not faded.
> "The servant didn't just survive. He overpowered them."
"No technique. No core. And still…"
"That mark on his chest—what was it?"
Velan walked through the outer estate with more eyes on him than ever before. Where once people saw only dust, they now saw a question, and questions were dangerous in a place that worshipped bloodlines and rules.
In truth, Velan didn't understand what he'd done either. Not fully.
The power came and went like breath on cold glass—present for a moment, then gone. He couldn't call upon it at will. Not yet.
But something inside him had shifted.
---
That morning, he was summoned to the Scroll Pavilion, a vast hall of burning lanterns and ancient tomes sealed behind fireproof doors. Only members of the Flame Archive Order could enter. Servants were never allowed beyond the threshold.
Until today.
Kayalvizhi was waiting.
"I didn't expect you to survive," she said calmly, not looking up from the scroll she read.
"I didn't expect to be given a choice," Velan replied.
She looked at him then—really looked. "Good. You're learning."
Kayalvizhi tossed him a small iron ring engraved with a flame spiral.
"Take it. Your access pass. You've been... promoted."
Velan blinked. "Promoted?"
"To Flame Disciple – Outer Circle."
The words landed heavily. From dust-eater to disciple in less than a week? It should have been a joke. But here he was—wearing the mark of shadow, and now, the title of fire.
Velan narrowed his eyes. "Why?"
Kayalvizhi didn't smile, but her voice lowered. "Because I want to see what you become. And I'm not the only one."
She motioned to a sealed scroll, ancient and bound in black silk.
"Take it. Your first assigned technique."
Velan opened it carefully.
The script burned his eyes with each word—not from heat, but from memory. As if his blood already knew the movements.
> "Naarkuri Nadai — The Four-Intent Step."
A footwork form lost to time. Forbidden during the great clan wars. He'd heard of it whispered in broken servant songs.
> "One step to mislead the eye.
Second to silence the ear.
Third to sever the soul.
Fourth to erase the name."
He closed the scroll.
This was no ordinary cultivation path. It was a call to vanish—to become what fire could never burn.
---
🥋 Later that night, at the training cliffs…
Velan trained alone.
The steps were unnatural at first. They weren't just physical. Each one pulled at his thoughts, at his breath. On the third step, his own reflection disappeared from the pond below. On the fourth, he saw nothing but darkness stretching forward, as if the world forgot where he stood.
> "Erase the name…"
He whispered the phrase again.
His foot touched the stone, and in that moment, his body blurred.
A crow nearby screeched and took off in fear.
---
Far above, behind the torches of the higher courts, a figure watched him from behind a lattice of flamewood beams.
Thuraiyaar.
The clan's youngest elder. The one who never spoke in council, but was said to remember every servant's name from birth.
He leaned against the pillar, fingers stroking his long beard. His lips curled ever so slightly.
"So… the shadow has begun to learn fire," he muttered.
Beside him, a masked guardian stood silently—one of the Secret Cult Wardens, sworn to protect the bloodlines from threats within.
Thuraiyaar's voice turned colder. "Keep an eye on him. If he strays…"
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't need to.
---
🌑 At midnight…
Velan sat alone at the pond again. His breath fogged in the moonlight. The mark at his collarbone flickered faintly.
From inside him, Anaiyaal stirred.
> "You've touched the first key. Do you feel it, Velan?"
He closed his eyes. "Yes. But I don't understand."
> "You don't need to understand. You only need to survive. For now."
> "But soon, you must choose — fire… or shadow."
Velan opened his eyes.
"I'll take both."
---
End of Chapter 5