Morning light spilled across the Trinetraar estate, bathing white stone in pale gold. Long shadows stretched through the courtyards, tracing carvings etched into towers and arches with patient precision. A gentle breeze carried the scent of dew-kissed grass, warmed stone, and distant braziers—a quiet reminder that discipline and warmth could coexist.
The Vyomtara carriage rolled through the gates, wheels murmuring softly against cobblestone. Inside, the triplets pressed close to the windows, eyes wide with wonder.
Six years, eight months—yet the world still felt immense.
"Are we there yet?" Aditya asked first, bouncing lightly in his seat.
"Patience is part of the journey," Varesh replied, calm as ever, a faint smile betraying his amusement.
Sasi leaned against Aditya's shoulder, gaze half-lidded as he observed the passing structures. "It is different here," he murmured. "Quieter… but ordered."
Aryan said nothing. His eyes traced the symmetry of the gates, the deliberate spacing of towers, the way sunlight and shadow shifted without chaos—as if the estate itself breathed with intent.
The carriage slowed.The great gates of House Trinetraar opened.
Duke Mahendra Trinetraar stepped forward, violet eyes softening as they fell on the children.
"Careful, little storm," he said, crouching to Aditya's height. "Try not to topple the gates before you enter."
Aditya grinned and leapt down first.Sasi followed, composed and measured.Aryan stepped out last, calm gaze absorbing every detail of the courtyard.
From the shade of a colonnade, an elder presence emerged.
Lord Trishulvar Trinetraar, Patriarch of House Trinetraar, stepped into the light.. His silver hair was tied back, posture straight despite the years. Deep violet eyes—unchanged by time—rested first on Mahendra… then on Varesh.
For a heartbeat, past and present regarded one another.
Then Trishulvar's gaze softened.
"So," he said, voice steady as carved stone, "these are my grandchildren."
Aditya froze—then charged forward without hesitation.
"Grandfather!" he declared, wrapping his arms around Trishulvar's waist.
A low, amused chuckle escaped the old duke as he rested a hand atop Aditya's head. "Just as loud as your father once was," he said quietly.
Sasi approached next, bowing with precise respect. Trishulvar inclined his head in return, approval clear.
Aryan stepped forward last. He placed his palms together and bowed—not deeply, but sincerely.
Trishulvar studied him for a long moment before resting two fingers lightly against Aryan's wrist.
"Still water," he said. "Good."
Varesh stood beside Mahendra, the weight of lineage and choice settling quietly in his chest. The brothers exchanged a steady, unspoken glance.
"You are always welcome here," Mahendra said, voice carrying quiet authority. "Your children are family."
The morning unfolded in gentle rhythm.
The triplets met their cousins—Esha, thirteen, sharp-eyed and curious; Rivan, eleven, quick-footed and mischievous. Laughter filled the courtyards as the children circled one another, teasing, testing, learning.
Varesh and Mahendra guided subtle movements, teaching observation before action. Achintya remained in the mountains, guarding Vyomtara; his presence felt, though absent.
Aditya burned bright—bold and restless.Sasi moved with flowing precision.Aryan anchored them both, his calm presence binding the space between every motion.
The cousins adapted quickly, learning not merely technique, but rhythm—how to move together.
By midday, wooden weapons were brought out. Aditya narrowly avoided a sweep from Rivan, both boys tumbling into the grass. Sasi steadied them mid-motion. Aryan intervened only once—stepping in to halt a gentle thrust from Esha; his presence alone was enough.
"Again," Mahendra said, tapping stone twice. "Not force. Presence."
The afternoon passed in laughter and focused repetition. Every stumble met guidance. Every success was shared. Brother, cousin, mentor—no one stood alone.
Evenings were quieter.
Long tables filled the hall as Trishulvar spoke of House Trinetraar—of restraint learned through failure, of strength refined by patience, of legacies preserved not through dominance, but balance.
Aryan listened in silence.Aditya asked endless questions.Sasi connected each lesson into patterns already forming in his mind.
Later, beneath the stars, Varesh and Mahendra stood together on the balcony.
"They are extraordinary," Varesh said softly.
Mahendra nodded. "More than that—they are grounded."
Below, Trishulvar watched the children one final time before turning away.
"They carry both houses well," he said simply. "Ensure it remains so."
On the final morning, the sun rose warm over the estate.
The triplets stood beside Varesh, Mahendra, and Trishulvar, gazing across Arkavaira.
"Tomorrow, we return home," Varesh said.
Aditya frowned. "Already?"
Sasi nodded quietly. "We carry much with us."
Aryan rested his hand briefly against Trishulvar's sleeve. "And we will remember."
The old duke smiled. "Good," he said. "That is how legacies endure."
Below, laughter rang out as the children ran through the courtyard.
High above, House Trinetraar watched in quiet approval—stone and sky bound by blood, discipline, and the unspoken promise of what was yet to come.