King Aghasthya was laid to rest in the middle of the wide-open premise fronting Sharad's palace.
The weather wasn't dry enough. The rain and snowfall had left the chilliness behind, but the weather permitted the villagers of both the dynasties, Sharad and Rawat, to form a long procession. They straggled out endlessly through the corners of the huts and the apartments and blocked the path from all sides. It was about the generation paying their respects and bidding farewell to their dearly departed King, the group including my aunt, Dhanunjay and Breaking Samagraha.
Yodhin Ojha's mangled body had been rested far away from King Aghasthya on a heap of sacking. He was covered in sheets to block the repulsive sight. Incense and perfumed candles were placed all around it to block the smell. No one stood mourning for his death except Yuvan with the crushed hope of gaining a family. Shashi Thribhuvan was presumed dead, but the grief for the passing of the Sharad's King had overpowered their excitement for a new country free of Shashi's dictatorship.
The sky was yet cloudy but neither unpleasant nor colonized by the creatures anymore. Perhaps, only a handful of the villagers were celebrating the successful annihilation of Shashi's Clan. All accolades went to Tyrell, Leena, and Yuvan, and deservedly so for making it possible with their teamwork. This would not have happened had they not fought continuously all evening and through the wee hours of the following morning, and with newly developed hunting dexterity. Probably about a hundred knights among the thousands were wounded, and a few were hospitalized battling for their lives. Other than that, the knights were all only tired but triumphant at the end of the war.
Leena was not triumphant. She had received a major blow with the news of her grandfather's death and was yet to receive the details about my disastrous fight with Shashi...about Pruthvi.
My heart constricted thinking about her and I shifted uncomfortably in the chair watching the fire blazing in the hearth. I had not gone for the condolence visit. I could not. I needed some time alone, and away from my friends. Anyhow, staying alone in the room Pruthvi had built in Sharad's palace would not rub salve on my bleeding heart and did not give me a chance for true serenity to calm every part of my being.
Why must magic be so complicated? Either it was that or the magic of this country was half-baked. Why couldn't there be a way for Nazira to forge another suitable weapon? I shook my head, the heaviness inside me getting too much to handle. My mind was confused, but I was conscious enough to know that I was drowning in the depths of its deceptiveness, imagining events that were too good to come true. Frightened and isolated, the thoughts occurring in my brain suggested that I was torn between this sheer denial and acceptance.
A shiver sliced through me as I foresaw this country's future, and the repercussions if I failed in my mission. I remembered the images Shashi had shown me last night- the alarming number of deaths, the total wipeout of normal humans, and the country hit by an endless drought. They were all going to come true if I did not find a way to break Aatmayukta without hurting my friend. What do I do? What can I do?
A low, distant rumbling intruded upon the quiet, dragging me back to the present. The sound of the opening of the door followed and then a hard slam made me wince. Someone had gone inside Lithika's room and being adjacent to the one Pruthvi had built I could hear all kinds of sounds and visualize what must be happening inside. My friends were back from their formal visit to the mourning premise. There was silence for a few seconds inside the bedroom, trepidation over what was about to come piled up in me. And it did. Leena hollered. Her agony-filled cry was so loud that it churned my insides, tearing the scab off my healing wound and ripping apart. The entire palace mourned with her. She was shedding her precious tears. Tears that I had never been able to save. Not for once. Every time I returned from a job, it was Leena who had lost one of her loved ones. Every time. All the time. Why?
YOU ARE READING
(Book 6) Hayden Mackay and The Third-Eye of the Pancharatna
Fantasy"Mrs. Zutshi, how different was Zarina Khan from you? She was a clairvoyant, that makes her a witch too, right?" "Mages have their own history, Hayden. They have categories too. Since the time of Lady Chandrika's authority over the sections of the p...
