Hayden
Hardik swooped past me, slipped and slid through the staircases, rotated frantically twice in the air, then slowly drifted back and forth like a feather before settling down on the floor of the patio.
Pain seared up my gut. I gasped and pressed my hand against the wound trying to staunch the leaking blood. There was an intense desire, an itching impulse. The desperate craving for my stone was getting stronger with every passing second. I needed to feel its presence in my pocket and savor the warmth of my flames. As the spasm passed, I resumed walking into the apartment. My leg cramps made it difficult to even stretch. Dragging them up the stairs, laden with a thin coating of hoar frost, was like hiking barefoot in the deep snow.
The door of the apartment was opened, thank god for that! I hauled myself in and instantly fell on the table, and stumbled down to land on my woundless side. The diamond box crashed to the floor, the impact unclasped its lid.
A burst of energy shot through my veins. I took a deep breath and checked my pocket. The Cornelian was back, safe and warm, filling me with strength and vitality. I stood back on my feet and checked my wound. There was no more stabbing pain, just a little throb, and a slight healing sensation.
Then the event that had happened before my death flooded my mind. The gross betrayal. "You wished for it." Her statement resonated in my ears. Everything else she had said was lost in the moment of agony. The strength now piling up was indeed the realization of anger boiling inside me. I gritted my teeth and pressed my eyes shut trying to subdue the anger.
In reality, I wanted to scream and yell and use every last fiber of my being to blast, burn, and bludgeon.
Instead, I flamed my fingers.
Her face did not appear in my mind.
I increased the intensity and lit up the fireplace.
There was neither her face nor the voice.
A painful lump lodged in my throat.
Movement...
A bunch of fireflies invaded the porch, brightening the rail and wall, and emitting light inside the door and window. Hardik glided up, breezed with the fireflies, and drifted back onto the floor once again. There were notable spurts of its usual strange behavior. But other than that the world was back to being dead silent. The silver moon was still in the black and blue sky.
"It is for your own good." Shourya's statement then began to rankle me. For my own good? The sincerity in his voice was nearly making a point that perhaps I was being biased too quickly, thinking like everyone else in the country who didn't know her personally as much as I did.
My mind raced. Took more deep breaths let my anger down and began to access before I concluded
Was there a sunny side to this? Could Nazira and Shourya both betray me to such a great extent? Knowing Nazira and her fondness for Shourya, did she give herself up for Shourya's sake? Was it only a ploy to break the magic laid on him?
My stone burned.
Her serial actions in the past few months began to overcrowd my brain and I tried to make sense of them
She'd helped Tyrell escape from captivity.
Celina had come to her senses only after reading the letter from her that delivered an apologetic, yet lifting message.
With her simple gesture, Leena shall now be able to carry on the legacy of being Maiden and still fill the void.
Pruthvi was fortunate to have another, most crucial purpose in his life- to raise a family of his own.
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.
I let my fire off and rolled the papers, my heart thudding and brain raking. Nothing felt easier in my mind. The words and the paintings, how did they even fit with what she had said? "It means it was never meant to happen. You and I, it cannot happen." If this was a thousand-year-old hostility stopping her from accepting me as her own then there was certainly one and only way to prove the veracity of this age-old story.
"Constellia Formation!" I commanded my stone.
He appeared in a blinding split second, letting out a low satisfied grunt as if he was waiting to be called upon. Smudges of black smoke filled in the room that instantly disappeared. A little bit of his mane swayed with the wind rolling in, and tail flicking. For a moment it seemed as though he had lost his bearing. Somehow, he looked less menacing, less assured, and a lot less brooding.
"I have just one question for you," I said. "What happened between her and the First? Also, the second. Tell me everything you know, without having me ask another question."
"That's actually two questions."
"I'm in no mood for puns, Singh," I said, my voice low but sounding rough in the ears. "Please, get on with it."
Singh dropped his eyes down and stared at my bloodstained shirt. Despite the dearth of light, I found his pupils dilating. He hung his face further down, features almost lost in his mane. He released a steaming breath before he began reciting.
And the story was dark. Hideously dark. The intensity of which robbed my senses and replaced me with irrational fear, even though I knew it was coming. The story was filled with the minds of a few deranged individuals- distinctly cruel, selfish, and tyrannical. Each one of them waded into the fray to stir things up even further with no remorse.
Singh had come prepared for this occasion. He was giving the fact away in a way that I indeed couldn't utter another word in response. My insides felt overly heavy and I slowly crumpled down to the bed, having my heart in my mouth.
Nazira had spent her past lives recreating colorful gardens and paintings. But her world, both times, had been etched in charcoal. This was more than I had anticipated. More than I had ever dreamt of. This was disturbing and moving in every possible way.
Singh clarified the rationale behind her sudden decision to take away my second heart. He supplied every missing piece of the puzzle, and with my prior experiences, it was easy to slot them together.
I now knew why she had been seeking out my help. Why Haimavati had lost her voice but kept it alive for generations. Why she wouldn't want me to kill Shaytan Rup? The pact between her and Almourah - the initiation of which had forced Almourah to wait for centuries to indulge in a fight with another Cornelian user. Matsyasvi and Pizaca had only worked on her orders. Pre-planned, she had called it. That's right! This was the story of gross politics and violence. That reminded me of poor innocent people who were burnt to death in the vision she had shown me. People who kept dying ever since. None of them had anything to do with this level of brutality.
I unrolled the papers and analyzed the paintings. Each one of them was making perfect sense now but I could not wrap my mind around her battered past. Her fate was interconnected with the Cornelian users of every generation. This was nothing but a punishment given to her for rejecting First's illegitimate proposal. Dark Magic was used unreasonably and as a one-time deal. A very big one at that. The deal that sealed her life and death with Cornelian users of every generation. All those times I had died in the hands of Almourah....she had died too? I remembered Almourah's smirk moments before he'd killed me every time. Her death must have been the greatest pleasure of his thousand-year- life.
I pressed my eyes shut and put the papers aside on the table. It was all just too unfair.
Singh came to a halt. He was done reciting and kept quiet for a second or two, waiting for my response. Finding me yet sitting stunned, he asked, "Are you still mad at her?"
"Talk to me about this generation," I said, discarding his question. "Starting with the Diamond users. Tell me how they are related to all of this."
"We've had at least two Diamond users for every century," Singh said. "They suffered throughout their lives to keep this country safe from Shaytan Rup and Almourah. They died and another came, but none of their methods could stop both of them from harassing humans. The fact was pretty much established that nothing could ever work until and unless Samagraha was chosen. I remember Krishant Veer and his friends who made better decisions than most. They knew that neither of those invisible beasts was going to stop until a Cornelian user was chosen. They put a lot of pressure on us to begin a new generation. But we didn't. We couldn't."
"Of course," I said, "You had to wait until she was born."
"Number nine, in this country, symbolizes rebirth and renewal. The boy born in her family was born on the ninth. It was evident that the new generation had begun. But Makara waited, he had to until he was sure of the boy's potential to hold double kinetic powers.
"Kanya, on the other hand, could not wait for Makara when she found a perfect boy capable of wielding both the Kinetic power and magic of this country. How many can lead a pressure-free and jovial life knowing that one day they will be an accessory to kill their peers? The first two certainly couldn't. They were not even accepted by their peers.
"Brash, bold, compassionate, and the tenacity to confront her own negativity with her goodwill. Those were Vrishabha's main criteria to choose someone better than the best to use the Moonstone. And I believe she did choose one.
"The tears of the maiden. The bravest thing a human can do is to show some tears. Indeed, humans hesitate to exhibit publicly what's tearing them apart. But the one gaining the ability... shouldn't.
"It was unjust for the two fates to be sealed. For you and Milady. Both of you are meant to be dangerous and deadly to each other, and I am saying this after witnessing the events that happened in her past lives. Even Krishant Veer knew that. But his ideas were different. His way of thinking was astonishing even to me. He believed if it is meant to happen then why not consider a sneaky method to establish a healthy alliance of two individuals."
I scoffed. "Right. So, he sent her with me to the Parallel universe even before she came to know her identity."
"It was a step that was never supposed to happen. He did not care about you winning against Shaytan Rup as much as about you staying alive. He spent many sleepless nights worrying that the grandson of a King may have to perish like his predecessors have. Trapping her with you in the universe where you both had to stay dependent on each other, was the best solution he figured."
"Her decision to leave me is based upon what Doctor always wanted," I said. "To protect this country for the rest of our lives by keeping me alive first."
"Yes."
A sigh, sounding like a grumble, escaped my mouth. I bent a little and rubbed my nape. Oh Nazira, how naïve do you think I am!
"We revere her," Singh continued, "Every Constellia does. Lady Chandrika may have given us life and purpose for our existence, but she also used us for her own benefit. Taught her kids to be dominant. Milady, on the other hand, was the opposite. She tried to convince the Firsts to treat us as their equals rather than have us stay subservient. Too bad she was caught up in the web which forced her to take decisions under protest. People say she was ambitious. But to us, she seemed keen on attaining something that was rightfully hers."
"Throne?"
"Yes," he said.
I shook my head in dismay. "It was all for one woman."
"That resulted in many disasters, wars, and the ultimate fall of this country. But seeing you and your other companions, we do have hopes that things may not be the same anymore. Fates cannot be changed but can be bent. For a thicket of idiots, you all have great destinies. We believe that even each of your deaths will also have a great meaning."
I smiled and nodded, my nerves suddenly filling with a positive spirit. Another moment from outside caught my attention. There was a slight glow as well which quickly deadened. I presumed it was coming from the fireflies. The thought of fireflies made me remember something and I took a moment to think about her statement - "Now you have come troubling me more than they had."
"Why did you choose me, Singh?" I asked. "Why me? Is it only because I am the grandson of a King she admires?"
Singh paused, and I figured he was trying to seek a few wise words. "Kid, I've lived for over a thousand years. I have seen a lot more about humanly behaviors that no other Constellia has. You must believe me when I tell you that you are different. You are a far stretch better than you think. The potential that you have...isn't it already proven? But sometimes, your insecurities are clouded by your own misjudgments and emotions."
"Your point is?"
"You have more responsibilities on your shoulders being a Cornelian user and as a King. I have read your mind and heart, and you do know very well that you were not able to rise to this level all by yourself. There are many challenges up ahead, and you will face bigger hard knocks. Trust me, you cannot do this alone. You need an anchor for support. You need Milady by your side. Look at me, Hayden Mackay."
I could not believe how astonishing it felt when Singh called me by my name for the very first time. There was a kind of pressure building up inferring that it wasn't the end after all, but the beginning of something more special. It was refreshing, giving me the inner strength and the boost I thought I'd lost with the great blow she'd given. It was meant for the right reasons though, however, done in the wrong way.
"You and your friends," he continued, "have brought something into this country that people have lost for a while. Hope. The bright side is right across the tunnel, all you have to do is pass through the hurdles coming along your way. I trust you and Milady. But more, together. She wanted me to choose someone who can make her reconsider the decisions she had taken thousand years ago, and I believe I did my job well. Whatever happens from now, I'm leaving it to you to deal with."
I sniffed, wiping the moisture from my eyes, and stood up feeling a bit more determined and steely. "Thank you, Singh."
He turned around, and muttered, "I want to remain proud," before he disappeared.
------------------
A movement...
A moment and a slight screeching sound...
A glow that reflected off and a hum that quickly abated...
I sat alone, inside Nazira's room, the air getting colder by the minute. Cool drafts blowing and biting my skin. The matted blood on the sides of my shirt seemed to have dried and the bruise underneath had healed, but the lingering memory of it was still very gnawing. There was also this nagging sense of nostalgia, my conscience reminding me that it was time to talk with my friends. It was time to reveal the three-year-old secret.
I thought about them, mostly Pruthvi. The treasure trove of facts and information about his sister that he still needed to know. My heart thumped with nervousness thinking about him, thinking about his angry face, angry eyes, and angry insensitive comments. How much of his reaction was going to affect our friendship and the special bond he and I'd created after Celina and Tyrell's departure? I dreaded the efficiency of our teamwork now that I needed it more than ever. Everything was dependent on his reaction, and the decisions he may take. But I swore to myself not to let him easily go if it ever came to that.
A couple of hours had yet to elapse for my friends to wake up. In the meantime, I closed my eyes for a moment, nagging worries melting away for the time being when...
A scream of terror echoed off the walls of the room, followed by a frantic explosive blast making me startle and jump off the bed. Windowpanes rattled. Papers flew further inside the room. The floor gave a subtle tremble, the intensity of which shook off my bones. Outside, the strong gusts of wind rocked off the snow mounds. The explosion of force reminded me of the academy and the way it had been burnt to a crisp. Without further ado and with all speed I jumped out of the window and hoofed away from the apartment.