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

32. Regeneration

Tyrell

Two hours and countless miles later, the paleness of the dawn remained intact in the dull, dank cave tube adorned with charcoal-colored walls. The entire tube reeked of strong dark magic.

Tyrell had his hand lit, the streaks of currents encircling his wrists which generated mellow and progressive sizzling sound. The soft sparkling white light spread around like that from a firecracker, the light helped him stay away from the walls that seemed to be ganging up on him. He slowly walked down the lane full of hushed anticipation and the sense of foreboding giving him the sensation of burning fire in his belly.

The dark magic in the air was what made him worried, all the worse for being unfamiliar. The strong essence, however, reminded him of Jyran's hut in Paschimgarh. How relentlessly Jyran had spent experimenting and foraging for tips to invent new magic. His ideas had been fascinating to the point that even a soulless Rahu had known how detrimental his inventions could be for the country. Thanks to the deities his father was never successful in any one of them, otherwise the entire country would have already been worn-torn and demolished.

The walk was long and bleak, and a couple of minutes later Tyrell did land in a situation he was afraid of. The end of the tube was almost up ahead and his anticipation turned out into profound disappointment. Did Shourya give him the wrong address? Where the hell was this testing room where Shashi pursued experiments? There was nothing here, nothing at all. It was just a narrow tube made of unusual stone formations and the ceiling was so low that Tyrell presumed it was hanging on a thin piece of thread threatening to collapse on him anytime now.

He started walking back and forth at a glacial pace, trying to locate the source of the dark magic. Checking the stone formation, the walls, the ceilings, and making sure that he left no possibility. His mind raced from one improbable scenario to the next. Could there be a secret door like he had seen Shashi opening one the last time? Secret doors with secret rooms which secretly hid Shashi's ugly secrets?

Tyrell was beginning to lose his cool but he could not afford a lapse in concentration. Follow the signals of the wall, you will find the room, Shourya had said. What signals though?

Frustration peaked and he let out a long exasperated sigh. His breath was reshaped into an eerie yellowish mist like the vapor lights from a large greenhouse. He frowned, wondering if he was deliberately being obtuse. He tried out again, releasing breath from his mouth and blowing it on his hand. The same yellowish glow danced around his fingers. What the...

He momentarily spun about and placed his hand against the wall. It was cold and slightly clammy. He dragged himself closer and placed an ear to the wall, listening carefully, or sensing for something worthwhile. He brought his electricity closer and noticed an odd small stone, odd against the color and texture of the wall. He cupped it with his hands and tried to turn it like a knob. Click! The wall came to life and a secret door sprang open on the invisible hinges.

"Well, I hate to brag my dear Shashi, but I barely tried! Haha!" he said to himself, compressing the mountain-sized relief with smugness.

Before making their way into the room he began concentrating on his stone. Shashi might be inside and the thought of another fight with him made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

A yellowish mist washed over him as he stepped in. The room was the size of the living area of their apartment, illuminated softly with dozens of hooded lanterns hung on the wall. Quite a few long iron tables ran the length of the floor. Placed over them were stacks of books-both opened and closed. Glass jars and flasks of a variety of shapes and sizes -some filled with elixirs, and floating pickled lumps of meat, others with colorful grizzly smoke. Metal pots and ceramic vassals, filled with glue-like substances, which Tyrell had never seen before. Beneath the tables, vintage-style suitcases and trunks were perched over the running carpets.