Wave after wave of emotion inundated Binara. She was sucked back into Kalacakra—the transition instantaneous and jarring. Her stomach heaved, sending its contents rocketing up, and acid burned her throat. Coughing, she resumed her careening course in the gravity vortex.

I have no sister. It was me. I was seeing my older self. Binara's whole being ached. The chasm inside widened. It was up to her to comfort her child self and set her on the path to ghosthunting. It was up to her to draw her into the closed-off study, so that she could access the legacy left behind by the great Mayadunne ghosthunters.

If she failed her task, she shuddered to think of what would happen. It would be a paradox that would break her reality. She would not be a ghosthunter, and she would not have made the journey to Mount Meru. There would be no one to procure Chandrahasa or stop Mahasona. A terrifying image of death and destruction overwhelmed her inner eye.

Despite the yawning emptiness inside, purpose and desperation made her hold onto sanity. Binara gulped in rapid breaths, and the chaos around her stilled. The pulses of light grew brighter and steadier, strobing with less nervousness.

The next instance she neared was yet again the study. This time she knew what to expect as she decelerated to a slow glide.

Binara plunged through and made her way to the window, though her limbs protested louder as fatigue set in. She gazed down at the garden while her child self watched her with fascination.

As brief as a gust of wind, the encounter was over, and Binara withdrew to Kalacakra. She reeled under the whiplash of the transition.

The next meeting was going to be the hardest.

If this worked the way she expected, then she should have access to a specific moment in the garden. Sure enough, the instance materialized within reach, and she locked onto it. A larger-than-life hologram blossomed from the curling planes of Kalacakra. The garden, bathed in sunrise and mist, stood out like a beacon amid the darkness around her.

Binara balled her fists, timing her jump. Three.

Her gaze focused on the sparkling drop of dew that clung to a leaf. Two.

She was so close that the scene dominated her view. One.

She lunged.

It took a few seconds to orient herself. Overgrown weeds swished against her legs, dappled under the sun that filtered through the trees. The morning light was too feeble to chase away the mist, which was thick and heavy as it blanketed the ground. Cold pressed in, making her glad that she had Diyan's cloak. Behind her, the deserted wing of the walauwa glowered down in all its stone-and-iron severity.

Binara concentrated on her breathing, forcing herself to contain her emotions. Her knuckles drew taut as she resisted the pull of Kalacakra. Part of her didn't want to do this, simply because she refused to accept that she had no one all along. Her heart ached at the growing void inside.

Suddenly, she noted movement in the distance. A small figure emerged from the mist, panting and fearful.

It was time.

Binara strode forward, trailing the cloak over the grass. Each step wore her down, like pushing against an invisible tether. It was too unreal that she was reliving this moment—an event that shaped her entire future. The sense of loss and melancholy settled deep in her gut.

Her child self stiffened, and her big-eyed stare panned from the manor down to her. Even though Binara knew exactly how this meeting would play out, it did nothing to ease her agitation, and she half expected Little Binara to run away.

Little Binara only watched, one hand rubbing her eyes while the other pressed Malki to her chest. She threw a glance over her shoulder as if expecting something to grab her and then let out a sob. Tears clung to her eyelashes like the dew that glistened on the leaves.

Binara halted in front of her small self. "Hey there."

Little Binara blinked, and teardrops fell down to her dress. Her whole form slackened as she stared up, and Malki slipped from her arms.

Binara picked up the doll, wiped off the moisture and handed it over. "Are you alright?"

"I-I saw a boy in the well," her child self said, shaking her head while her eyes welled up again. "He has no eyes, and...and..."

"Hey, hey, it's okay."

"I'm telling the truth." Little Binara sniffled. "I really am."

"I know."

She blinked. "You...don't think I'm crazy?"

Binara studied the tear-stained face before her, which reflected the same void that gaped inside her now. "You're not crazy, Binara. Ghosts are real. We fear what we don't know."

The words had a remarkable effect on her child self. Her small body shook, obviously fighting back sobs.

"It's okay," Binara whispered, reaching out and patting her. "It's okay..."

"Are you my sister? No one told me about you." Little Binara wiped the tears that slid down her cheeks. "What are you doing out here?"

Even though her stomach roiled, and her head throbbed, she forced herself to smile. "I'm here to make sure you're okay. You have to stand up for yourself, Binara."

"I-I'll try."

"We Mayadunnes are descended from the greatest of kings. There's more in you than you think."

A smile broke out on Little Binara's face, and she stood up straighter, holding Malki tight.

"What were you doing in the garden?" Binara asked, though she knew the answer.

"I just wanted to pick some flowers," her child self said hesitantly. "But...I lost them."

"I have a flower for you." It took all of Binara's strength to pull the flower hairpin from her hair. "Here."

"But this is yours."

"I want you to have it."

Little Binara peered at her and then eyed the hairpin. "Really?"

"Yeah."

Small hands took the flower and fingered the petals. "Thank you..."

Binara inhaled a deep breath. "Run along now. Don't wander in the weeds. There could be snakes."

"I-I'll see you around then." Little Binara grinned and took off like a rabbit.

She watched her young self disappear into the mist, and with it, the last of her strength ebbed away. Sadness came crashing down, and she collapsed inward—a planetesimal imploding under immense pressure. Kalacakra sucked her back into its clutches and sent her tumbling in its gravity well.

This time she threw up.

Fatigue burrowed into her very soul. Everything hurt. It was as if a part of her past had been ripped away—a past she had clung onto all her life. Her courage had come from a "sister" who never existed. She only ever had herself. She was back to being the child lost in the mist, facing an impossible task. She was too small, too ignorant and too powerless to do anything. There was no way to find Chandrahasa. All she wanted now was to give up and let the universe blot her out. Binara stifled a sob, and her vision blurred with tears.

Kalacakra dimmed until barely any light remained. She tumbled faster and faster—a terrifying freefall in what could have been the deadest and darkest of nights. She couldn't fight anymore. Another sob racked her form. This was it. This was the end of the road for her.

The last pinprick of light flickered, and her tearful eyes locked onto it.

It kindled a spark—or perhaps it just mirrored something that resided in her. A thought sputtered at the back of her mind, stubbornly refusing to snuff out. Binara had only met her "sister" a few times. Yet, she had been holding on to those moments throughout the years, building elaborate theories to explain her existence—until the "sister" was there in spirit to accompany her to every single ghosthunting mission. She pulled in ragged breaths, trying to unravel her feelings.

The emptiness inside was not the loss of a "sister". It was the loss of a feeling—that someone was there for her. The only companionship she had known over the years was locked in the past, and now, it had dissipated to nothingness.

"I'm a lone hunter. I don't need anyone," Binara whispered again and again while blackness threatened to swallow her up, but her words rang hollow in her own ears.

All the times she had repeated those words to herself, she had still reached up for the flower hairpin, drawing strength from a "sister" she never had.

A jolt zinged down her spine. Her wide eyes bored into the last fleck of light in the far distance—a valiant star that twinkled and refused to die. The flower hairpin...

The hairpin that had adorned her hair and accompanied her to every mission since childhood came from one person all along—a girl who was very real.

"Piumi..." Binara said hoarsely.

The light grew brighter in tandem with a tiny flame that burned in Binara's very core. A montage flashed in her brain—from the very first Yakadura missions with Piumi, when they had to find hooniyan sand in the village or deal with "evil eye" cases, to Piumi's sheepish smile as she followed Binara everywhere, ponytail swaying with each stride. Binara relived the terrifying adventure in the cloud forest of Mayakele and the train ride to Natran, where they faced Mahasona for the first time. Her inner eye homed in on Piumi as she bandaged her bloody arm, even though she had pushed her away. Tears flew off Binara's eyes in glimmering droplets.

She didn't need the flower hairpin—not anymore. Piumi was out there waiting for her.

A weight fell from her shoulders, and purpose galvanized her tired limbs. Her flight through Kalacakra steadied, and her environment came alive in all its trippy glory, though her vision still swam with tears. The twisting arms of spacetime no longer displayed instances of her past. Instead, they were inchoate windows which almost seemed to wait for her to will them into existence.

She had to make it out alive to stop Mahasona. Piumi counted on her. Diyan counted on her. Is that why I'm doing this?

There was that one last question she needed an answer to, which she felt had a bearing on whether or not she could find Chandrahasa. Kalacakra was a malleable wasteland that she had to navigate with her mind. It was the perfect vault to house items of great power, since only those that the Asuras deemed worthy would affect it in the right way to access the prize. Closing her eyes, she delved deeper into herself.

Binara sucked in shaky breaths, focusing on each inhale, though every fiber of her body now ached and screamed for her attention.

Through the tangle of thoughts, she locked onto Piumi and Diyan. Their voices surfaced in her head, asking the same questions. Why do you fight? Is it about revenge? Her heart thudded in her chest—louder and more pointed with each second. Piumi's voice pressed on, peeling off her layers. Or is it just your big head—you want to prove that everyone sucks but you?

Shame tugged at her insides. It was true that Binara wanted to best the Yakadura, and she had underestimated them when even the great Mayadunne ghosthunters had been among their ranks. Every condescending thought she had harbored about them was painfully ignorant and immature. Her hateful determination to see all demons gone now seemed equally misguided—after Diyan came into the picture and complicated things. Still, that was only part of the story.

Piumi's voice reached deeper, tunneling through her barriers. Why do you want to save this city? Binara jogged down memory lane to the day she went to visit Mrs. Bentota and the warmth that bloomed in her chest as she gazed out at Hevana's cityscape. Deep down, there's something else. And you don't want to admit that. Binara's mind's eye constructed the scene at Mrs. Bentota's house.

Her mission that day was to acquire information, but the Bentota girl's plight had stirred something inside and she had even let slip her true identity. Binara recalled the battle at Natran, when she wanted Piumi out of danger. It was the same feeling that she had for Hevana and its residents. She didn't want her city to fall to the appetite of Mahasona's demons—the very place that King Mayadunne and her ancestors had fought to defend. It even retained the old-world charm of King Mayadunne's time—when he made Hevana the center of science, art and technology. She couldn't bear the thought of it all going to ruin.

Her rapid train of thought zoomed to everyone she knew—Great-uncle Senarat, Nayana, Inoka, Nelum and even the tuk driver who took her to Mai Mara Cemetery. She even saw Sandun, Dasun, the other Yakadura agents and the people on Ghostly Times—she didn't want any of those buffaloes to fall victim to Mahasona. On top of that, she had to admit that buffaloes could be clever on occasion. She bit her lip when her brain took her all the way back to the paddy fields in Gongama.

King Mayadunne protected the city and its people. Her family's great ghosthunters even headed the Yakadura to fight evil. They all cared. Perhaps she did too—just a tiny bit.

Binara opened her eyes. Her resolve hardened, but more than anything, peace permeated her whole being. She felt light—free from the turbulent cocktail of anger, confusion, loneliness, denial, hate, frustration and delusions that had plagued her all her life. Even though a mammoth task lay ahead, in that instant, she was powerful. There was more clarity now than ever.

Kalacakra underwent a change. It became calmer, and patterns emerged where there was none. Light balanced the dark.

"Balance—the cornerstone of the cosmos," Binara murmured, recalling Dvaramur's words, and the realization made her eyes widen.

She had achieved a balance within herself, and Kalacakra was reflecting it.

Up ahead, a white glow brightened, making her squint. Binara discerned a triangular shape that reminded her of the giant Trikona above Vemacitrin's throne.

As she neared it, details jumped out at her—a three-dimensional scene lay within the triangle's borders. This was a peephole into a location that was not of her making. The change inside her had triggered Kalacakra to open this window. The brightness mellowed down to reveal a pocket of space awash with ectoplasm. An object slowly became discernible—suspended in midair by an unknown force.

Binara reached out, and her hand perforated the light. Her heart pulsed in sync with the energy that radiated out of the instance. Her fingers closed around the hilt of a sword—cold, hard and smooth. A nanosecond later, power surged through her arm and into her very bones. She gasped.

The right to wield the great Moon Sword lay in the hands of those who tempered their hubris and had balance in their hearts. It was no wonder that Virocan, the forefather of the Asuras, placed his creations in Kalacakra. It was his way of ensuring that great power didn't fall into the wrong hands and caused destruction.

As the light grew intense, almost blinding Binara, she had a moment to wrap her brain around the fact that she had found Chandrahasa.