The morning sun rose high above the Gurukul, casting long streaks of gold across the flame-colored walls of Agnigriha. Maarun stood before its towering entrance, a wave of heat pulsing gently from within. Today marked his official first day in the House of Fire.
He stepped in cautiously, eyes adjusting to the dim red glow inside. The air smelled faintly of ash and incense. At the center stood a tall figure in a crimson robe embroidered with golden threads—Tejodhāra, the head of Agnigriha.
"Welcome, Maarun," he said, voice deep and resonant like a temple bell. "This is Agnigriha, the house of the most volatile and misunderstood element—Agni. Fire is not easily found in nature. It must be kindled, nurtured, and contained. Unlike water, air, or earth, fire does not rest."
Maarun nodded, listening intently.
"One spark," Tejodhāra continued, raising a hand, "can burn a forest. One breath of anger can start a war. But harnessed with control, fire can forge weapons, protect kingdoms, and illuminate the darkest night."
He turned, retrieving a strange device from a nearby pedestal. It was a metallic lighter-like object, ancient and ornate, with two small crystal stones embedded inside.
"This is called the Dviprakāsha," Tejodhāra said. "Friction between the stones generates flame. You must use this tool to summon fire and shape it as your will commands. With practice, you may no longer need this. Senior warriors use only their breath and the fire within."
Maarun took it with reverence. His task was simple yet daunting: ignite a flame, then manipulate it to defend, to strike, to move.
Hours passed. Maarun tried again and again. The fire sparked but didn't obey. Sometimes it fizzled out. Sometimes it burst too wide. Sweat drenched his clothes. Frustration threatened to overwhelm him, but he gritted his teeth and continued.
By sunset, a small stream of flame curved gently at his fingertip, dancing to his rhythm. Tejodhāra nodded in silent approval.
That night, in the moonlit garden of Devakunta, the trio met again.
Dev was lounging against a tree, Roshan sitting beside him. Rajyashri arrived shortly after, waving.
"So," she said, smiling at Maarun, "how did your first day as a fire-wielder go? Did you burn the dorm down yet?"
Maarun chuckled. "Not yet. But I think I might've burnt my eyebrows."
They all laughed. Then Rajyashri gestured to the path behind her. "Come, I want to introduce you to some of my friends. And give you a tour of our side."
The girls' hostel was elegant, draped in vines and flowering trees. As they walked, soft lamps lit their way. Rajyashri leads them through the girls' hostel garden, the group is chatting and laughing under the moonlight. Suddenly, Maarun freezes mid-sentence.
His eyes lock on a girl walking past in a maroon robe with gold trim, her long, dark hair swaying like ink in motion. She moves with a quiet confidence, her eyes sharp like glowing embers.
"Who's that?" Maarun whispers to Rajyashri, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.
Rajyashri smirks. "That? That's Aksharā. She's one of the top-ranked students in Agnigriha. Been on missions, fire duels, survival trials. People say she once lit a forest on fire... just to draw out a demon hiding in the trees."
Maarun's mouth hangs open. "Wait—what? Seriously?"
Roshan nudges him. "Close your jaw, Maarun. You're catching bugs."
Dev chuckles. "He's in love already, and she hasn't even looked in his direction."
Maarun stammers, "I just—she looked... powerful."
Rajyashri grins. "She is. But also smart. She doesn't talk much unless she has something sharp or important to say. Which means… good luck."
Maarun gulps. "Yeah. That's... comforting."
This can lead to a fun, short back-and-forth later between the boys as they leave:
Dev: "So, Maarun, should we start writing your love letters now? 'Dear Aksharā, your fire is hotter than mine—'"
Maarun: "Shut up, Dev."
Roshan: "Just don't accidentally sneeze near her. I hear she once scorched a guy's cloak for stepping on her shadow."
Maarun: "You two are no help."
Back in his room, Maarun lay down with a quiet smile. His thoughts drifted—not to his trials or his fire—but to a girl with midnight hair and fire in her veins.
Sleep claimed him soon after. But for the first time in a long while, his dreams burned bright.