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

16. Half-Drowned

The corners of Haima's mouth twisted. "It's Deity Vrindahina, Milady."

"Liar!"

"You were never supposed to give birth to thirteen kids. And you thought you could escape the curse of the Deity?"

"Is that what you told the Panchayat? Isn't it enough that you have perpetually trafficked in lies, when the truth would have been much simpler, Haima? Had you been so decent as you think, you would have conceded with dignity and agreed to your fate."

"Truth?" Haima laughed. "You've spent your entire life sabotaging me and Lady Drishtika just because you cannot take the path of maturity and compassion in stewarding this nation. Isn't it the guilt of your malpractices that now you've chosen to do something far worse to create chaos within me even after my death?"

Lady Chandrika suppressed a cough. "So, you know."

"I'm not an object," Haima cried, gritting her teeth, hot tears filling in her eyes, and her body trembling with rage. "How can you not understand such an unvarnished fact being a woman yourself? All I desired was to retain free will. I even offered you the throne. I was ready to give up my chief ambition. But you had to be the woman completely deprived of goodwill and empathy."

The older woman broke down coughing and wheezing of short breath. Her hands gripped against her neck. Staggering at her feet, she stepped up front trying to get hold of the jug filled with water placed on the table. Haima acted at once. She shoved the jug away, surprised at not feeling a thing for this woman in her broken heart. Water splattered across the floor, the clanging sound of the jug echoing throughout the room.

Lady Chandrika looked up grudgingly, tears spilling from her eyes. "Such hatred."

"Had you not allowed your son to cross the boundaries, perhaps my love for you would have been still intact."

"Haimavati, listen to me," Lady Chandrika said, struggling to stand still, her green lips wet with slobber. "My death may allow you to be the queen, but I refuse to let you be the source of strength and stability to this country. I cannot let you swell with pride for being the only living High Priestess anymore. Either you kill Shaytan Rup right now, or I'll force you to be stripped of all the finery you're renowned for."

Absolutely vile. "It's just really sad that you cannot take these final days and become a better version of yourself."

"I warned you once," Lady Chandrika growled. "I told you not to fiddle with the Fire Spirits. They originate in the medium I embark into. But you've used them for your benefit, again and again. You keep forgetting that I have more tenacity in using their abilities."

Haima scoffed. "Do whatever. The truth is that your departure is imminent. You're leaving this world, Milady. Whether you like it or not."

"History is recording the truth, Haima. And you will be responsible for causing more injuries to the people than I ever had in my lifetime. I'm asking you again, for the last time that is. Destroy Shaytan Rup. Make Yajna an absolute."

"Never! I will never become a Cornelian User's toy to play with."

Lady Chandrika set her jaw. "Have it your way." She lifted her hand and the entire room brightened up once again, with sparkling creatures flying rapidly off towards Haima's way. There were high-pitched sounds, and Haima recognized them at once. She uttered a chant, but before her magic materialized, tones of flying fairy-like creatures raced towards her, chanting with much more pitched notes. Then they brutally, fiendishly, unrelentingly, slit her throat and cut off vocals.

The shock unhinged Haima. Blood spurted out of her throat, causing severe flooding of gore to flow down her body. She gagged but no sound came out. She yelled but could not hear her own voice. How could she orate a chant now? How could she protect herself? An anguished Haima crashed down to her knees first and then tumbling completely down to the floor, her head smashed into the pool of blood.