Dawn.
The courtyard of Bhairavgarh thundered with footsteps. Hundreds of hopefuls stood ready. Monks in red cloaks paced before them.
"The first trial is the Gate of Breath," the elder called out. "Chant the wind mantra. Without it, you cannot enter."
Arav stood at the back. Kaavi was nearby, eyes closed, already chanting.
He breathed in.
The mantra returned to him from his dream:
"Om Pavitra Swaha…"
A breeze stirred.
He chanted again.
"Om Pavitra Swaha…"
The ground beneath him trembled, and a faint gust coiled around his legs like a playful serpent. His feet rose an inch off the ground.
He opened his eyes—he was levitating.
The monks bowed.
The gates of the first school opened.
And Arav stepped through.