The distant roar faded.
The room stilled.
Golden sparks dimmed around Jaswant's fists…
…then vanished completely.
Like they never existed.
Jaswant froze. "What… what just happened?"
Arkam watched him quietly. "Exactly what I feared."
Jaswant looked at his hands — searching, trying to feel even a single ripple of that power.
Nothing.
No warmth. No glow. No pressure in the lungs. No swirling aura.
His breaths felt normal — painfully normal.
"It's gone," Jaswant whispered. "The power… it's just gone."
Arkam stepped closer.
"It was never yours."
Jaswant blinked.
"What?"
Arkam sighed — not dramatic, not mysterious, just tired.
"The 'awakening' you felt — the golden surge, the shockwave, the sight of the wraith's true form — none of it was Breath-Force."
Jaswant's pulse jumped. "But I destroyed the wraith—"
Arkam shook his head.
"You didn't destroy it.
It fled."
"F–fled?"
"It panicked," Arkam said simply.
"You were glowing with borrowed energy — wild, uncontrolled energy.
The parasite thought you'd awakened Breath-Force, so it broke its attachment and escaped before your false aura stabilized."
Jaswant felt his stomach tighten.
"Borrowed," he repeated.
"Borrowed from what?"
Arkam pointed at his chest.
"Your pendant."
Jaswant touched it instinctively — the small, warm charm his grandfather gave him years ago.
Before he could speak, Arkam continued:
"That pendant is not an ornament.
It's a seal.
And tonight, when the wraith tried to use your mind… the seal defended you."
Jaswant felt the air leave his lungs.
"So that power was the pendant?"
Arkam nodded.
"Yes. A defense mechanism. But not Breath-Force.
Your body has never awakened breath.
Not even a spark."
Jaswant went still.
All that power…
the golden light…
the shockwave that shook the room...
A lie.
A shield pretending to be awakening.
A false awakening.
"But I saw the wraith's true form," Jaswant argued weakly.
"That's only possible with—"
"—with the Breath of Sight," Arkam finished.
"Yes. And even that you didn't activate.
The pendant projected it into your vision because the parasite forced its way too close."
Jaswant felt hollow.
"So I have nothing?"
Arkam's silver eyes softened.
"No. You have something.
Not Breath-Force.
Not yet.
But you carry a bloodline that reacts before awakening…
a bloodline that enrages anything connected to the Heart-Root."
The pendant dimmed again, almost as if it were listening.
Jaswant lowered his hand from it slowly.
"Then the golden aura I had…
that wasn't mine."
"No."
"And the shockwave?"
"Not you."
"And the power that scared the wraith?"
"Not yours."
Silence.
Cold, heavy silence.
Jaswant swallowed hard.
"So why did the pendant react now?"
Arkam's expression turned grim.
"Because something tried to awaken you.
Something not human.
Something beneath the Heart-Root."
Jaswant's breath hitched.
"The voice that called me?"
"Yes."
"And it failed to awaken me?"
"Thankfully."
Arkam stepped closer — eyes sharp, urgent.
"If the Heart-Root awakens you…
you won't gain power.
You will be consumed."
Jaswant's skin prickled with a cold chill.
"So the false awakening…
saved me?"
Arkam nodded.
"For now."
—
A faint rumble shook the floor again.
Arkam immediately turned toward the hallway.
"They're still coming," he whispered.
"Who?" Jaswant asked, fear tightening in his chest.
Arkam didn't look back.
"The ones who sensed the fake awakening…
and believe a new Breath-Bearer has risen."
Jaswant felt his pulse quicken.
"But if I have no power—"
"That," Arkam said, finally turning to him again,
"…is exactly the problem."
---
The room was still humming with the last echo of distant roars when Jaswant suddenly noticed something—
Arkam hadn't taken his eyes off the pendant.
Not once.
The silver-eyed man's gaze remained fixed on it, not with greed, but with something far colder.
Recognition.
Fear.
Calculation.
Jaswant stepped back slightly.
"What is it about this pendant?" he asked quietly.
Arkam finally tore his gaze away.
"You shouldn't be wearing it," he said.
Jaswant's brows tightened.
"It saved my life."
Arkam nodded once.
"Yes. But now it's doing something far more dangerous."
He slowly extended his hand.
"Give it to me."
Jaswant froze.
Something in Arkam's tone wasn't a request.
It wasn't even a warning.
It was… urgent.
Almost desperate.
"Why?" Jaswant asked.
Arkam stepped closer, hand still raised.
"That seal isn't just a defense.
It's a prison.
And the thing inside it is waking."
Jaswant instinctively clutched the pendant.
"What thing?"
Arkam didn't blink.
"The reason the Heart-Root called you."
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.
Then Jaswant slowly lifted the pendant by its chain — just enough that Arkam could touch it.
As Arkam's fingers neared the golden surface—
SSSHHHHHH—!!!
A burst of warm, golden sparks leapt outward like tiny flares.
Arkam flinched as if burned.
His hand recoiled instantly.
His expression — normally calm and carved from stone — finally cracked.
Jaswant stared.
"You couldn't touch it."
Arkam clenched his jaw but didn't deny it.
Jaswant stepped back further.
"If you're from my bloodline, why would the pendant reject you?"
Arkam didn't answer.
He just stood still, hand half-curled, a faint scorch-mark fading from his skin.
Jaswant felt something cold twist in his chest.
"You're not normal, are you?" he whispered.
Arkam exhaled — slow, controlled.
"No," he admitted softly.
"I am not."
"What are you then?" Jaswant asked.
Arkam didn't respond.
Because the ground answered for him.
CRRRRRAAAACK—!
A sharp vibration tore through the floorboards.
The walls trembled.
Jaswant jerked his head toward the hallway.
"What was that?"
Arkam's eyes darkened to liquid silver.
"They've arrived."
---
The lights flickered — then went completely dark.
A low, animalistic rumble echoed from somewhere inside the mansion.
Not outside.
Inside.
Jaswant's breath hitched.
"Arkam… who's here?"
Arkam raised his hand, signaling silence.
A voice drifted through the dark hallway — smooth, cold, and strangely amused.
"So this is where the false-awakening happened…"
Jaswant stiffened.
Footsteps followed — heavy, deliberate, dragging across the wooden floor.
Another voice joined in, harsher:
"Master said the golden flare reached half the forest.
Whoever awakened here must be powerful."
Arkam stepped in front of Jaswant.
"Don't move," he whispered.
But Jaswant grabbed his arm.
"I don't have power. They'll know I'm nothing."
"That," Arkam said quietly, "is why they will try to take you."
Two silhouettes emerged into the doorway.
Tall.
Torn robes.
Skin pale like they hadn't tasted sunlight in years.
Their eyes—
black from edge to edge, swirling like wet ink.
Arkam muttered under his breath:
"Hunters of False Breath."
Jaswant whispered back:
"Hunters of… what?"
"They track any sudden rise of Breath energy — even fake ones."
Jaswant swallowed.
"You mean the pendant's flare?"
"Yes," Arkam said.
"They came because they sensed awakening.
They won't leave without the source."
The taller hunter stepped into the light — a crooked grin spreading across his face.
"So this is the child with the golden breath…"
Arkam lifted his hand slightly — the air around him shimmering like invisible threads.
"Stay back," Arkam warned, "or I will—"
"Spare us," the hunter interrupted with a laugh.
"We're not here for you, Arkam."
Jaswant snapped his head toward Arkam.
"They… know you?"
Arkam didn't answer.
The shorter hunter sniffed the air.
"The golden scent has faded.
The awakening was incomplete."
"False," the taller one corrected.
"And unstable."
His eyes locked onto Jaswant.
"Which means the boy's body is still soft.
Still unawakened.
Still easy to take."
Jaswant stepped back instinctively, heart pounding.
Arkam moved in front of him instantly.
"You touch him," Arkam said, "and I will tear every breath from your lungs."
The hunter chuckled.
"You?
You're barely holding yourself together."
He tilted his head, studying Arkam closely.
"The seal rejected you, didn't it?"
Arkam's jaw tightened — and Jaswant knew it was true.
The hunter grinned wider.
"Ah… so the rumors were right.
You are no longer a full breath-being."
Jaswant's stomach dropped.
"W-what does that mean?" he whispered to Arkam.
Arkam didn't turn.
His voice was cold.
"It means," he said,
"…I'm not the most dangerous thing in this room."
The hunters stepped forward slowly, eyes fixed on Jaswant.
"Come here, golden breath," one of them said softly.
"You belong to the Heart-Root now."
The pendant against Jaswant's chest began to vibrate again — fiercely, like a heartbeat.
A warning.
A countdown.
A denial.
And then—
The hunters lunged.
---