The next morning the group decided to take a temporary halt at a pleasant local inn, only to freshen themselves up. Horses, according to the coachman, were too tired to progress anymore. They still had a long way to go and although it was tiring to travel, the distance never seemed shortening, Pruthvi and Leena just had to make their minds up and utilize their time effectively. During every stop they took Pruthvi had tried to open up Hardik and requested it to help them out, but the poor thing always stayed curled up tight.

Pruthvi was alone near the Carriage, watching the horses graze in peace. The inn was constructed at the roadside especially for the travelers. The distinct conversing sounds coming from the people walking in and out of the inn was mostly about the disastrous celebrations at the Rang Mahal and that how the subsequent planned marriages for this Fest were canceled. Many, among them, were claiming to have seen Rahu Kerenza entering the amphitheater and discussing the exaggerated rumors about him circulating all around the country. Pruthvi sighed in frustration. They were after all talking about his friend who was forcefully made to turn into a nefarious celebrity.

He made sure it was going to take a while for the rest of them to come out from the inn and that he was having enough time before they could resume their journey. He finally found the chance he had been waiting for since last night. The thing was resting right inside the bag, in front of his eyes. Unable to wait anymore, he immediately took it out, comfortably sitting on the folding step of the carriage and then checked for the date in King Harsh's scroll.

The scroll was burnt and almost ruined. There was hardly anything left to read. He wasn't  definitely interested to go through the dead King's whole life history, he did not think he was having limited time for it. He kept looking for the date King Aghasthya had mentioned last night, all the writing in the red and blue distracting him a bit. When he was almost there, his hopes to read anything related to last night's discussion shattered into pieces. The particular date he was looking for wasn't mentioned at all. And because of it, he casually read the nearest one.

October 2nd, 1984,

Raaz,

It's happening. And it's tomorrow. Dakshinpur will be officially united once again, just like in the old times. Shashi's capture has brought some assurance to the people that Paramarashtra does not have to fear the dark magic anymore. Everyone must be safe now, especially the woman, they have suffered a lot. Not anymore. I am ashamed of myself for not believing Aghasthya. He has only been trying to be a good friend to me, he always warned me about Shashi's unnatural behavior. And now I realized sharing same blood doesn't make one a family. Shashi was, is, never a family. He is a disgrace to the Thribhuvan legacy.

But today I want to forget everything. I want to give it a rest.

Something else has happened today that I want to share with you. Gargs have finally asked for forgiveness. Shashi's capture has brought some enlightenment in them. They finally realized Kings of Dakshinpur aren't incapable of handling their position. Aghasthya is already in talks about the future amendments in the system of Paramarashtra. Premila is highly elated, and I am happy to see her smile. Only on her request, I decided to provide a job for her cousin in the palace. I hope he keeps his childish behavior aside and gives his family a relief.

.

.

.

Yada! Yada! Yada!

Pruthvi huffed with boredom and continued ahead to look for anything interesting that was left to read in this burnt pile of dump. He kept rolling the scroll till he finally decided to stop at the area written in red.

January 29th, 1990,

Raaz,

I apologize for keeping you aside. But in these past two years, nothing else, except keeping the future Samagraha safe has been my priority. And now I successfully accomplished. In a few days, we are finally bringing a closure to this Yajna we started. Even now, at this situation where I am in, if I don't come back and pour down all my feeling to you, my soul might never rest in peace.

I sent Premila away, with this newly born child that I asked her to look after. She is happy to have the kid, that she has someone who needs her care, a reason for her to move on with her life. But I know she is grieving, and why not, she is never going to see me ever again. None, but only Premila as a wife could have accepted my decision.

Tomorrow, first thing in the morning, the moment the sun rises, will be the moment I breathe my last.

Raaz, I don't want to end here. I don't want to say goodbye. Please, please let me write to you more. I want you to know how I finally convinced Nawab Khan to participate in Yajna.

A violent bolt of lightning broke into the utter blackness, its reflection falling on the ruler of the dynasty who stood at the threshold of the thatched hut. The thick blackened clouds poured down into a heavy rainfall forcing King Harsh to walk a little inside. He gazed down at the four Khans sitting down on the floor and grieving their loss they had never been anticipating to endure so early in their life.

He looked at them one by one. The young man, also a young father, merely in the age similar to that of the King's elder daughter, was silently crying, having a hand around his wife's shoulder, her head bent down. King Harsh's eyes dropped down on the man's lap, gazed at the two kids- probably too innocent to know what has been happening around them- A one-year-old boy staring blankly at the floor and a newly born child sleeping peacefully, looking like a beautiful doll. As the lightning boomed yet again, the boy slowly looked up at the door and lifted his head upon noticing the king awaiting their attention.

Watching the boy's sudden reaction, Nawab Khan checked on what has interested his son. His mouth fell agape and eyes widened.  He sat straight, handed over the baby to his wife and immediately stood up in respect.

"Your Majesty!" he said, bowing "It is an honor to have you in my hut."

King Harsh further walked inside. The Khans were in a terrible situation and as a king, he knew he was supposed to shower some sympathy towards them. But the fact that whatever has happened was Nawab Khan's own fault was making him feel otherwise.

"This is not the first time I am here, Nawab. You must be used to feel honored by now." King Harsh's voice echoed like a massive volcanic eruption. He looked aside at the sleeping child and frowned. If it were to be any other baby, his voice could have easily stirred it up from sleep.

Nawab Khan couldn't reply. He stood rigid, statue-like. His lips trembled and dared to even look at the authority standing a few feet away from him.

"You know I will be returning, don't you? Since you never showed up." King Harsh continued, "I asked you to meet me with your decision. When were you planning to visit? After your death? After your wife and..."

"I am not in any position to think about it, your Majesty," Nawab finally opened his mouth. "Things are too rough. My grandmother did everything..."  

"And she is not going to stop now. Zarina did stand on her word. She said she will kill everyone. Today it is Azeem, tomorrow it's going to be you, which I cannot let it happen."

"This is not easy for me," Nawab retaliated with a higher tone, "You sent me a notice that Nazira shall not come with me. How can I leave her behind?"

"I told you I will take Nazira's full responsibility. She will grow up in my care. Don't you trust me?"

"Yes, I do. You are the trust," Nawab said, his voice breaking down, "But she is now my daughter."

"NAZIRA KHAN IS A THREAT TO YOU!" King shouted, stepping forward, now standing face to face with Nawab who bent his head down unable to gaze at those deep-set light brown glaring eyes. "Never ever have Zarina Khan's predictions been proven wrong, Nawab. If you do not listen to me now, Nazira Khan will grow up like her. Trust me, I am not sacrificing everything just to have you dead. You are precious. A future savior. Paramarashtra needs you. Please understand."  

"I know," Nawab said, "I do understand why you are doing this. But I beg of you..."

"I accepted when you pleased to have your family with you. I was convinced that it isn't good on my part to separate you with your wife and son, even though it could be dangerous for them to leave with you without mastering Samaratna. But nothing in the world can convince me to let you take Nazira. Her care should be nothing that defines your family. It is supposed to be mine."

The one-year boy walked forward and held his father's little finger. King looked down at him, their eyes met and stayed connected for a while. A strange feeling flared within King's heart. He quickly remembered the digital photo that his daughter had sent them. He imagined his own grandson in it, he must be few month old as well, looking just like the one he was staring at right now.

He wanted to drop down on his knees, hold the boy in his arm and weep till the heaviness in his heart melt. Swallowing a bile, he balled a fist. It was difficult to fight his instincts, yet he did it before looked back up at the boy's father for an answer.

"Nawab," he said "Your word."

The elder Khan looked at his wife, who grimly nodded her head, tears flooding down her cheeks. Sighing softly and wiping his own tears, Nawab finally said, "I am left with no choice."

"Good," he said, his voice stating the relief, "Tomorrow, early in the morning before sunrise, a carriage will be here to take you to the place where Yajna is being performed. Bring Nazira with you as well. You are free to give her a formal goodbye."

Without waiting for Nawab's answer anymore, King Harsh turned around to leave them alone to grieve, and keeping a faith in Nawab that he would come. But before he could walk out, he slowly glanced back at the boy once again to savor the feeling of watching his own grandson for the very first and last time.

Forgetting that the boy was indeed wasn't his own, King Harsh walked back, pulled a silver coated chain with a holder from his neck and placed it around the boy's throat.

A brief flash of sorrow crossed his face when he asked Nawab the question. "What did you say your son's name is?"

Pruthvi shut scroll when he heard a heavy loud gasp. He was so immersed in reading about his past, about his family, that he did not even realize that Leena was already sitting beside him, reading at the scroll peeking down from his shoulder. Pruthvi nervously looked at her when she touched her chain around her neck holding the Aquamarine.

"That's your real name?" she asked forlornly, her eyes shining.

"No," he said, feeling his chest rising and falling tremendously and chill bumps forming all over his skin, "It has always been and always be Pruthvi Krishna."

-x-