The months following Ranav's arrival were filled with cautious learning and delicate adaptation. His once-structured life on Earth was now an endless cycle of survival, patience, and rigorous self-control. Each day, he would silently practice his breathing, his understanding of language, and his knowledge of this strange family he had come to depend on. In moments of deep concentration, he would meditate to calm his worries, repeating to himself, "Seek nothing outside of yourself." It was a phrase he clung to, something to give him strength in an existence that felt claustrophobic at best.
Ranav quickly learned to keep a low profile. Even the smallest outburst or overly advanced action felt dangerous; he knew he couldn't risk revealing his intelligence too early. His helplessness weighed on him heavily, but the fear of being discovered kept his resolve strong. He tried to mimic a regular baby's behavior: fumbling hands, soft babbles, and clumsy expressions. Any slip in this "act" could mean rejection or worse.
Months went by, and Ranav's presence in the household shifted subtly. As his coordination improved, Naveena started weaning him, introducing small bites of solid food into his diet. Trinav and Vivita doted on him, their attentiveness revealing glimpses of a larger truth about the world.
In the rare moments when he wasn't focused on learning or hiding, hunger gnawed at him relentlessly. No matter how much milk or food he consumed, it was never enough. It wasn't the mild hunger of missing a meal; this was a primal craving, the kind of hunger that gnawed away at his mind. During mealtimes, he tried to keep himself in check, aware that his family struggled to feed him. Their worry was visible in their downcast eyes and whispered words, and every extra bite he took felt like a burden on them. Over time, his gratitude for their patience and care grew. Despite the discomfort and the constant vigilance, a fondness bloomed within him. He began to see them not just as caretakers but as his real family.
Ranav began to understand that his hunger and energy drain might be linked to something special within him, a talent his parents called "Mage." According to what he overheard, mage children like himself often had larger appetites and needed more nurturing than other infants. This revelation was earth-shattering. The existence of magic became more than just an assumption; it was his new reality.
Ranav's training evolved with this discovery. Knowing that pushing his body could result in consuming more of the family's scarce resources, he practiced with restraint. He limited his breathing exercises and meditations, finding a balance that would keep him strong without raising suspicions. The hunger was ever-present, but the feeling of control, however slight, kept him going. And since his physical training was restricted, he devoted more energy to language acquisition. He was now able to grasp nearly every word spoken in the household, though he kept his comprehension hidden, resorting to babble words like "Mama" for Naveena, "Dada" for Trinav, and "Lala" for Vivita to communicate just enough affection to endear himself.
Finally, on his first birthday, the family gave him more freedom, placing him on the ground to crawl around. Under their watchful eyes, he was expected to explore, a task that left him anxious. He'd spent months studying each room and item from afar, but now he had to feign curiosity about an environment he already knew too well. So, he finally decided his first objective: the fireplace.
Trinav, attentive as ever, intercepted him quickly. "This is the fireplace. Now it's safe, but fire is bad. Fire hurts. No touching it, never." Ranav feigned innocence, reaching for the ashes with a look of confusion. Trinav gently held his hand back, repeating, "Fire is bad. No touching it. Never." Ranav squinted in mock concentration before murmuring, "Fire bad?" His father's approving nod was satisfying, and Ranav moved on with as much hesitation as he could muster.
As his explorations continued, he quickly realized that this act of clumsy curiosity was exhausting. The house, though small, was filled with objects that were equally dangerous to babies and a constant source of anxiety for his family. He experimented, stumbling his way toward the sharp edges of the dining table or attempting to climb the chairs, only to watch his family spring to his "rescue." It worked as he'd hoped; his apparent "recklessness" soon made them decide to confine him to a small cloth mat in the middle of the room, complete with simple wooden toys for him to "discover."
It was, in all honesty, a relief. The toys—a little horse, a cart, and some oddly shaped animals were plain but effective at masking his daily training. The horse became a "steed," allowing him to enact imaginary battles, and the cart helped him develop his finger strength through repetitive motion. He could express his joy freely, babbling to himself in a way that his family would interpret as harmless child's play. This made it easier to pour his heart into the act, laughing and clapping whenever he made a new "discovery." For his family, it was heartwarming to watch; for Ranav, it was a way to train without fear.
The newfound freedom was a double-edged sword. While he could experiment and exercise his curiosity, he was also painfully aware of the restrictions. His mind was sharp, eager, ready to absorb knowledge and power, but he was forced to mask it under the guise of innocence. The fear of being labeled a "monster" haunted him. If he revealed his intelligence too soon, would his family's love hold, or would they cast him out in fear? His survival depended on maintaining the illusion of being just a baby, and as days passed, he grew more comfortable in the routine, slipping into his role like a second skin.
But in quiet moments, as he lay on his mat, he allowed himself to dream. He dreamed of growing stronger, mastering the powers he'd barely begun to understand. He dreamed of exploring beyond this small house, discovering the vast world that lay beyond his reach. For now, he was content to play the role, to nurture his potential in secret. He knew that patience was his only path forward, that every smile, every innocent babble, every moment of restraint would bring him closer to his ultimate goal: freedom to grow into the power that lay dormant within him.
For now, his life was an intricate game, and his family, both unwitting players and cherished companions, were the ones anchoring him to this new world. The path was slow, the obstacles immense, but Ranav felt a renewed strength simmering beneath the surface.