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

2.1. Double-dog Dared

Then why would she play false only with me?

Before I discussed the matter with anyone, I decided to get to the bottom of this. To make my case stronger and not so alarming, especially to Pruthvi. But where do I begin from?

Shourya and Nazira, it was evident that they had schemed behind my back. But, instead of plotting a straight path, why create a winding tour? Why wait for entire six months if it was only meant for Shourya's sake? Was ripping my second heart away wae only reason?

More and more questions arose, the answers to which only the duo could give. My mind was being bombarded with speculations. In need of clues, I sprinted down the walkway that connected the living room and the bedrooms. The doors of my friends' rooms were still closed. Silence prevailing. I quickly marched towards her room and barged the door open.

The entire room was plunged into subtle darkness, only dim moonlight penetrating through the opened window. I flamed my hands, and brightness spread through. The room was uncommonly tidy with the stack of papers neatly placed at the corner of the table, and a paper cup holding paintbrushes and pencils. The sheets on the bed were neatly aligned, and a pillow was on the top.

Putting off my fire, I went through those stacked papers first. Just simple white papers, neither painted nor scribbled with writing. I went through the drawers of the table. There were more brushes, watercolors, and other painting tools only. My eyes fell on the small duffle bag-sized suitcase placed underneath the bed. I pulled it out and rummaged. Clothes and a pair of slippers. There was a secret pocket at the top lid. I zipped it open. In there was the artifact I'd gifted her almost a year ago- a glass-domed vial covering the crystallized golden flower of Vrindahina. An odd feeling washed over me- pleasant or unpleasant, hard to describe.

I put that back, pushed the bag aside, and stood back up. A loud sigh in the form of a grunt escaped my throat. There was nothing in here containing clues. Another disappointed. I roamed around for a minute or two, remembering the times I had been in the room, and trying to mull over something I might have seen and unseen. The last time I was in the room...I blinked.

A blast of cold wind tore inside. I hissed, walking back towards the bed and pushing aside the pillow. More papers popped out.  Used and fully painted. The corners fluttered with the wind blowing inside. I quickly rearranged the papers, flamed my hands, and examined them one painting after the other.

One, with a tattered garden surrounded by bushes and a certain number of pyres burning in the middle. Second, a painting of a sky-scrapper-styled castle surrounded by a lake on one side and a village on the other, the castle seemed like those from medieval times. Next, the paper was filled with orange-red flames raging like a wildfire, feathery fairy-like creatures flying amidst it. A man and a woman were painted from behind, grandiosely dressed. The man pulled the woman, and both walked to pass through the flames. 

Something helpful finally caught my eye. At the bottom, there were indentations. I frowned and watched it closely. There were words imprinted, as though someone had pressed too much on the paper and left impressions on the paper underneath. Words, however, were hard to make out.

A sharpened pencil did the deal. Rubbing the pencil lead lightly across the page glared out the words, leaving the indentations from the original writing clear and concise. But the sentences were yet incomplete.

'...too late. He doesn't know a thing about this magic....'
'... tonight. It must be done only after he ascends the throne, and before...'

And that was all. I checked the other papers. Nada.

Movement...

I snapped a look outside the window. In my muddled condition, I thought I heard a slight screeching sound, like a whistle. Although it faltered, and quickly faded away, leaving traces of ominousness.