The halls of Vyomtara Manor shimmered with joy, each corridor echoing with laughter and music as preparations bloomed like spring across the estate. Time, swift and silent, had flown by—and now, the moment had arrived. The first birthday of the triplets.
From the high balcony, Lord Achintya stood still, watching the golden horizon stretch into eternity. A soft, nostalgic smile curved his lips.
"We're already at their first birthday," he murmured. "Time truly flies in the blink of an eye."
Beside him stood his daughter, Lady Elaria—graceful and composed. Together, they sealed formal invitations with the Vyomtara crest and sent them to noble houses far and wide, summoning the realm's elite to witness a day destined to be remembered.
And soon, it arrived.
6/2/602 — a date that would etch itself into the annals of House Vyomtara.
The grand banquet hall gleamed like a divine palace. Banners of starlit blue and silver billowed in the breeze, and cascading silks hung from vaulted ceilings, shimmering in the glow of golden chandeliers. Marble floors reflected a thousand flickering lights, like constellations scattered underfoot.
One by one, the noble guests arrived in ceremonial processions—regal carriages and plumed horses lining the manor's crescent gate. The atmosphere swelled with grandeur as three great ducal houses made their entrance:
House Kalagnirath — fierce and proud.
House Trinetraar — mystic and wise.
House Agniraath — radiant and bold.
But one house remained absent—House Mrityujayaal. Their silence hung like an invisible veil, casting an unspoken tension across the otherwise jubilant air.
Then the hall fell utterly still.
The Imperial House had arrived.
House Suryavrin, keepers of the sun's legacy, entered clad in robes of white and gold. They carried themselves with divine poise, their presence casting an ethereal light none could match. It felt as though the sun itself had graced the celebration.
And then, at the heart of it all, came the stars—the triplets.
Aryan. Sasi. Aditya.
Dressed in garments woven with celestial silk and blessed by the family priest, they descended the grand staircase. Their silver-gray hair shimmered with streaks of sky blue, catching the chandelier's light like ripples across moonlit water. Their eyes sparkled with the wonder of the universe itself.
Gasps rippled through the hall. Some nobles rose unconsciously, compelled by awe.
Duke Varesh Vyomtara, radiant with fatherly pride, received each guest in person, offering warm greetings and gratitude.
From within the crowd emerged a figure—older now, but still noble in bearing. Varesh's father, the former Duke, stepped forward with slow reverence. In his hands were three cloaks made of golden fur, harvested from a sacred beast so rare even the Empress herself could not command it.
He draped them gently across the children's shoulders.
"This grandfather is sorry for coming late," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "But I bring gifts only the stars deserve."
The celebration unfolded like a living legend.
Knightly duels sparked admiration. Musicians filled the air with songs of legacy and hope. Dancers moved like flowing rivers, their silks catching the light like comets in orbit. The scent of delicacies—spiced fruits, honeyed meats, and cloud-soft bread—drifted through the hall.
One by one, the nobles offered gifts: enchanted relics, divine scrolls, crystal talismans, and rare elixirs. Each offering was a token not just of status—but of belief in the triplets' future.
As twilight deepened, a priest stepped forward and offered a blessing under the starlit dome of the hall, wishing the children health, wisdom, and the favor of the heavens.
By then, the boys had grown sleepy. They clung to their parents, their bright eyes fluttering as dreams called to them.
But their night was not yet over.
Once the final guests departed and the manor grew quiet, Achintya gathered the boys in his arms. Along with Sarvani, Varesh, Elaria, and the ever-faithful butler Bhavan, they descended into the secret heart of the estate—a chamber hidden from all but the blood of Vyomtara.
The Chamber of Inheritance.
It was ancient—timeless. Relics floated in reverent stillness. Scrolls wrapped in celestial silk lined the walls. At its core, three glowing artifacts pulsed softly, as though waiting.
These were no ordinary treasures.
They were living meditation techniques—spiritual artifacts passed through generations, choosing not the strongest, but the most fated.
The triplets stepped forward.
Aditya was first. His tiny hand brushed a fiery orb, and the air warmed. Flames danced.The Heavenly Flame Meditation Method had accepted him.
Sasi reached for a shard humming with crackling light. As his fingers touched it, thunder whispered through the room.The Divine Lightning Meditation Method awakened in response.
Aryan, calm and focused, approached a swirling mass of leaves and stardust. The artifact pulsed with calm, boundless energy.The Cosmic Nature Meditation Method chose him.
They had not made choices.
They had been chosen.
The five adults stood in stunned silence. The room glowed brighter, not with magic—but with destiny fulfilled.
Achintya turned to Varesh, voice low and reverent.
"These are no mere methods. They are living legacies—artifacts that awaken only to the worthy. This moment... marks the rise of the next epoch."
Only five had witnessed this moment: Achintya, Sarvani, Varesh, Elaria, and Bhavan.
As the triplets clutched their artifacts and giggled softly, the adults watched in quiet awe.
This was more than a birthday.
It was a divine beginning.