(Book 3) Hayden Mackay and The Shaatrumani Stone

22. Atmayukta (Part 1)

"It isn't over," the man said, seething, walking slowly towards us, astutely escaping the debris.

I noticed he was wet and the last time I had seen someone that way was Ashwanth Veer. My instant inkling about him was that if he was someone belonging to that very clan.

"Who are you? What do you want?" I asked nervously, taking a few steps ahead, walking past Pruthvi and Nazira, "And why do you have that stone with you?"

"So many questions, yet only one answer," he said, in a sing song tone, "I am the one who is sent to enjoy watching your heart stop."

"What rubbish?!" I exclaimed.

As he moved closer, I looked into his eyes that were filled with an intense loathing that I involuntarily had to take a step back. Hardik at once pulled itself away from the heavy weight of the trunk and rolled close into a scroll and stayed down at a corner. I never had a good feeling whenever it did that. Nobody knew how and why, but it has a potential to sense an upcoming danger.

  The man looked sharply at Nazira when she went ahead to stand beside the wall quite away from us. His eyes immediately widened but quickly shrunk down to normal in a failed attempt to hide his stagger.

"If you are here for my sister," said Pruthvi, standing in front of Nazira, "then forget it."

The man scoffed, "Nazira Khan is an old school, Pruthvi Krishna. And believe me, Shashi Thribhuvan has no time for ear transplants."

Uncontrollable anger rippled through me. And I fought back my urge to burn him down instantly.

"Mind your tongue," I said, harshly, having a distinct impression of fierce rivalry beginning to spring between us, "Just answer my question. Who the hell are you?"

    "Well," he said, now standing still on a spot, "I heard you ask a lot of question, Hayden. Yet my son tells me, no one has ever told you about why you are called Fire of Vengeance."

    Pruthvi walked up to stand beside me. "Your son?" he asked, and I was here thinking about if he was going answer my million dollar question.

    "Tyrell Kissler!" he answered, making my hair at the back stand. I noticed his features settled as if he was sucking in all his coldness. "I am sorry, you might not know but he is actually a Kerenza, Jyran Kerenza's son, my son. I do not blame myself to miss an only opportunity to give him my name though. But if I had it, I would have named him- Rahu, Rahu Kerenza."

    "Stop the madness!" Pruthvi shouted, he looked rather angry than ever, his voice abnormally strainful for the tension looming in great hall. "What the hell are you talking about? His father is Ivan Kissler."

       I looked away in a slight guilt. What kind of a friend I was, I didn't even know his father's name.  Every time it has always been me telling him about my parents, where I had no idea about his, except that they were farm laborers.

            "No, kid," Jyran said, slightly shaking his head, interrupting my thoughts, "I am his father. I bestowed him with the every ounce of blood his heart is pumping."

Pruthvi said enraged, "You are lying."

    "It does not matter," I said, suddenly, grabbing everyone's attention, "It makes no difference whose son he is."

    Pruthvi looked at me, flabbergasted. "What?"

    He wasn't the only one glaring at me. Nazira's panic-stricken eyes were fixed on me, although I didn't dare to look back at them.

    "Pruthvi, aren't you happy that our friend is actually having a living parent?" I said, "Isn't that what we all need so badly?"

    "But Hayden..."