(Book 6) Hayden Mackay and The Third-Eye of the Pancharatna

3. Speak the same language

Nazira

The chains were cursed. The energy that powered her magic was draining like water. But Nazira remained unperturbed.

Things were different with her now, different for the Nazira she had been six months ago, as well as for Haimavati who was fighting a different kind of war in this generation.

The grey walls of the prison cell were claustrophobic but she did not feel the phobia. There was a leaky corner, how well she remembered the sound, but the drib did not shake her nerves. The cool breeze wafted from the ventilation shaft above, she could only imagine the whistling sound of the gust. The silence was part of her life, and the eerie dimness was the least of her worries. Shashi Thribhuvan, the generation's most dangerous dark magic user, was sitting in front of her. He did not scare her either. The only thing that terrified her was the use of the wilder edges of her magic. The magic that had once invoked many dreadful happenings. She was born Nazira now. She was born bearing a responsibility, to redeem herself. Being extra vigilant was a reassurance in itself.

"Shourya, I don't know what to say," Shashi said with perfect clarity, his words accompanying the disgraceful amount of stink he spewed from his mouth, stink as though from the sewage works. Nazira had her teeth gritted and attempted to read his lips with full attention. "You truly have proved that you're my most loyal servant. I'm ecstatic. Bring all the necessities for our guest, would you?"

From behind the stone chair, three men and a woman appeared. One was Shourya and the other two, looking exactly alike- twins- of average height and chubby build, wearing similar robes as Shourya, stood on either side of Shashi. Their hands folded and eyes fixed on her. The woman, large and middle-aged, had her face camouflaged with her coal-black saree veil, leaving out her tense eyes. She stood at the corner; head bowed submissively.

Shourya dragged a couple of trunks towards Nazira and lifted the lids. The trunks were full of grand Paramarashtrian garments and sovereigns, heavy jewelry, and other accessories, and facilities. There were books related to magic and dark magic. And lastly, the extensive number of supplies for painting, and papers with her name on them-full name. Nazira's heart flipped. He knows me too well. Or doesn't know me at all. Must tread carefully.

"Anything else you may require, feel free to ask," Shashi said. "I'm known for being responsible for the underlings like you who work for me. Just ask Shourya. Food, money, clothes, or anything. I will provide you with anything to make you feel comfortable. The only thing I expect in return is loyalty. Once I figure that you've disappointed me in any way, our bond and terms may start to differ and you'll not go unpunished. Just ask Shourya." He glanced aside and stretched his hand sideways. "Hand it over to me."

Shourya's face was covered with a dismal expression. He reached into the hidden pocket of his vest and removed a wooden dagger, the Pride. In the faint golden beam of light of the prison cell, the legendary dagger seemed rather lackluster. Shourya made eye contact with her. She replied to him with a blink. Go ahead.

"Ah!" said Shashi, holding the dagger and running his fingers against the bland portion. "My teacher used to love building caskets with this. He was a great warlock and a master woodworker. Although, one might say, his techniques and methods were rather obsolete. None of which were perfected, even after a thousand years' worth of experimentations. The fact that the Pride still exists is a piece of pretty good evidence now, don't you think?"

Shashi's lips moved and uniquely clicked his tongue. That was some kind of a chant he orated, then applied pressure on his arms and crack! He broke the Pride and divided the dagger into three parts. The breakage of which shot brilliant sparks, golden embers, and a few wood crumbs. He turned the other side and handed over the pieces of the Pride to one of the twins. "Protect it with your life," he ordered.