The portal's glow dimmed behind them, leaving Aamir and his friends standing on a stone podium, the surface cool beneath their boots. Around them rose towering walls of grey stone, ancient and unwavering, the battlements catching the dying sunlight.
Four guards encircled them, their armor shimmering in the golden hue of evening — a gleam of gold interlaced with streaks of silver. Each bore a heavy cloak, the fabric shifting gently with the breeze, emblazoned with a crest: a blazing sun pierced by a vertical sword.
Standing ahead of the guards was a man clad not in armor but in richly embroidered robes — authority radiated from his stance. His sharp eyes studied the newcomers before he stepped forward.
"Welcome, students of Nalanda," he said, voice firm yet respectful. "We have been expecting you. I am Rajesh, Commander of the Royal Guard."
Aamir stepped forward, the sunlight catching the edge of his uniform. His voice rang clear.
