Morning settled gently over Vyomtara Manor, the kind that carried warmth without urgency. Sunlight filtered through carved arches and painted the stone corridors gold, and for a brief, fragile moment, the world felt complete.
Too complete.
The triplets sensed it before anyone spoke.
Rishi Vedananda stood in the inner courtyard, his staff resting beside him, a small travel satchel placed neatly at his feet. It was lighter than the ones they had carried to the mountains—almost empty.
Aditya stopped walking.
Sasi's breath caught.
Aryan felt the stillness shift, like a thread pulled tight.
"No," Aditya said at once, the word leaving him before thought could stop it. "You're not—this isn't—"
Rishi turned, calm as ever, eyes gentle but resolute. "It is time."
The words landed softly.
They hurt all the same.
Duchess Elaria stood near the pillars, one hand pressed lightly to her chest. Duke Varesh was beside her, posture straight, jaw set. Sarvani and Achintya watched from a little distance, their expressions solemn but understanding.
The triplets moved as one.
Aditya reached Rishi first, fists clenched. "You just came back with us. You can stay. You should stay."
Sasi followed, voice steadier but no less strained. "The Academy hasn't even begun. There is still so much we—"
Aryan didn't speak at first. He simply looked at the satchel, then at the staff, then up at the man who had shaped their silence, their breath, their balance.
"You were never meant to stay long," Aryan said quietly.
Rishi smiled faintly. "No."
The realization broke something fragile.
Aditya's eyes burned. "You said 'soon,'" he accused softly. "You didn't say now."
"Soon is a courtesy," Rishi replied. "Leaving is the truth."
Silence followed.
Then, without warning, Aditya stepped forward and hugged him—hard, sudden, unrestrained.
Sasi joined a heartbeat later, arms tightening around Rishi's waist, forehead pressed against his robes. Aryan hesitated only a moment before placing his hands against Rishi's back, grounding himself in the familiar stillness.
For the first time since they had known him, Rishi did not correct them.
He rested one hand lightly on each of their shoulders.
They cried.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Tears slid down cheeks hardened by cold winds and discipline, carrying with them months of restraint finally released.
"You're leaving us," Aditya said hoarsely.
"I am leaving the place," Rishi corrected gently. "Not what we built."
Sasi pulled back slightly, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "Then… Guru Dakshina."
The words hung heavy with meaning.
Aryan straightened, nodding once. "Please. Allow us to give it."
Rishi shook his head immediately. "There is nothing I require."
Aditya turned sharply toward his father. "Then we'll decide."
"Aditya—" Varesh began.
"Father," Aditya said, voice trembling but firm, "give him a villa. On Vyomtara land. Near the palace. Somewhere he can return to. Somewhere that is his."
Sasi stepped forward. "Not as payment. As acknowledgment."
Aryan added quietly, "As home."
The courtyard stilled.
Duke Varesh looked at Rishi for a long moment—then inclined his head deeply.
"It will be done," Varesh said without hesitation. "A villa will be prepared. Any place you choose."
Rishi's gaze softened—but he shook his head again.
"I will not accept it now," he said.
Aditya's face crumpled. "Why not?"
"Because I am not finished walking," Rishi replied. "There are paths I must follow. People I must meet. Silences I must listen to."
He turned to Varesh. "But when the road offers no direction—when movement no longer teaches me—I will return."
He looked back at the triplets.
"And then," he said quietly, "I will stay."
It was not a refusal.
It was a promise.
Still, it hurt.
"Don't go," Sasi whispered, voice breaking at last. "Please."
Aditya nodded fiercely. "Stay just a little longer."
Aryan swallowed, eyes shining. "We haven't said everything."
Rishi reached out, resting two fingers gently against each of their foreheads in turn—a blessing without words.
"You have said enough," he murmured. "More than enough."
He straightened, lifting his staff.
"You will choose your Paths at twelve," he continued calmly. "The Academy will shape your direction—but remember this: Paths change. Foundations endure."
The triplets listened through tears.
"Stand the way you learned," Rishi said. "Breathe before you act. And never mistake motion for progress."
Elaria stepped forward then, embracing Rishi briefly, reverently. "Thank you," she said, voice thick. "For bringing my children back to me… stronger."
Sarvani inclined her head. Achintya placed a hand over his heart.
Rishi accepted each gesture with humility, then turned toward the gate.
He paused once more.
Did not look back.
"Grow well," he said.
And then he walked away—his steps quiet, unhurried, already part of another road.
The triplets stood frozen until he vanished beyond the archway.
Aditya wiped his face roughly. Sasi stared at the ground. Aryan closed his eyes, breathing deeply, holding the stillness he had been taught.
He's not gone, Aryan reminded himself.
He's moving.
And one day—
He will return.
Above Vyomtara Manor, the wind passed gently through the courtyard.
And somewhere beyond sight, a journey continued.