Sometimes we don't know who we really are.

****

Indumala exhaled deeply before knocking on the door of the room. She was going to meet a very important person, a woman who would go down in history as the wife of one Rajan and the mother of another.

"Come in."

She pushed the door open. The old lady was sitting on a chair facing the window, her brilliant purple eyes scanning the horizon. The border of Ishgar could be seen from here. Her focus remained on the direction of the Southern Forest.

Indumala bowed and waited for the Mataraj to acknowledge her presence. She had heard about this woman from both the Rajan and her Baba. The men respected this lady. Wisdom glowed in her ancient gaze. She was, after all, a former queen, now elevated to the position of a Mataraj.

"You were brought up in the Southern Forest?" Mataraj asked, a surprising way to start the conversation. Tears sparkled in her attentive eyes lined with kohl. She heaved a sigh, swallowing down an abysmal pain.

"I was. I am a mage, just like you," Indumala answered.

Mataraj sharply turned, the aged bones snapping. She winced, displeased to have acted in haste. "Did Rudra tell you?"

"Yes."

"What else did he say?"

"That you trust very few people, and that it gets hard for him to read your mind."

Mataraj studied Indumala like the girl was an exceptional enigma of nature. She fidgeted with the folds of the grey fur coat that guarded her from the coldness of a solitary life, twisting the ends of the fabric while lost in thoughts. "Your name is Indumala. I have heard about you, too."

"You know about me?"

"The adopted daughter of Aryamna, a mage who defeated all men to become my son's bodyguard. Yes, this everybody knows."

Indumala relaxed, the trapped air escaping her lungs. For a moment, she thought the Mataraj knew more than what was sufficient.

Her violet pupils dilated, lips parted in a silent prayer. "You lost your parents in the plague, or so you believe. You were a physically weak child. People said you would not survive beyond five years, such was your frailty. You lived in sickliness–"

"Baba told you this–"

"And surrounded by nightmares." Mataraj narrowed her eyes and grunted, not happy that she was interrupted. She massaged her forehead and moaned, trying to capture more about the bodyguard. "You have suffered a lot- been called names, cursed to die, but you survived. A miracle. A child of magic."

The spear fell down from Indumala's grip.

Impossible. This is impossible.

"How...how do you know? Did Baba share these with you?"

"Your Baba won't ever."

"The-then?"

Indumala gasped for air. She needed water, yes. She searched around the room. There was a jug kept on a table. She took it and chugged down the liquid. It was sweet and sour, like lemon. The aftertaste made her scrunch her nose in disgust.

Mataraj was no ordinary woman.

"How do you know?" she asked. Indumala thought her past was buried deep. No one would get to know what she had lived through. The diseases that ate away her flesh and skin, the lack of life in her blood, her breathing issues or the fact that she began speaking very late. The doctors had told she was born of a mother who had the plague inside her, so she, as a baby, was harmed by the same. She won't live beyond childhood, they opined. The plague affects generations.

They said she was born to die.

Maybe Mataraj Pushyaar asked the mages secretly and got to know about it, Indumala thought. But my nightmares? How is she even aware of something like that?

No one she knew would spill the ugly truth of her past. They loved her too much to lay open her deepest wounds.

"Dreams of fire have destroyed you. You suppress them instead of confronting." Mataraj stood up from her chair and walked beside Indumala. She put a hand on the bodyguard's shoulder. "You live with undead memories, my child."

Indumala staggered back, repelled by the warmth of the touch. Yes, the very little embrace reminded her of fire. She was afraid of that element. She never ever dared to go near one.

Something was stuck in her throat. She coughed and drank more of the lemon juice, but it wasn't going away. Her stomach twisted and pushed up, forcing her to cover her mouth. Her body was overtaken by nausea.

It was killing her.

She couldn't breathe. She felt hot and extremely sweaty. The jinxed flames were all around, threatening to engulf her.

And...and that monster.

He is coming. He is–

"Do not be afraid, Indu." Mataraj cupped her face. "Take deep breaths. One, two, three..."

Possessed by the benevolent care, Indumala followed her advice.

"Indu, tell me five things that you can see."

She frantically looked around. "Your collection of swords, the mace, the shield, your purple eyes, and that table."

"Good." Mataraj caressed her head. "Tell me three things you can touch

Indumala grasped the woman's hand. "I can feel you- your arms," she touched her clothes, "the band of tiger skin around your waist. And I just felt the jug."

"Lastly, tell me one thing you can hear."

"You, Mataraj."

"Great." The Mataraj hugged the girl, rubbing her back gently to ease the stress. "You cannot pile up the trauma and hide it under the carpet. It won't heal like that."

"They stopped coming-" Indumala gasped. "No, no wait! I-I remember... That day when I was drunk, I saw...I saw..."

"You saw what, Indu?"

"I had gone to the forbidden room. I saw my nightmares, again. Again..." Giving up on all her strength, Indumala slipped down and sat on the floor. Helpless. Dejected.

Mataraj knelt too. "I don't want to scare you, Indu. I am a mage, as you already know. I am blessed to see through people and other beings. It's a quality that I honned and mastered." She entwined her fingers with those of Indumala. "I saw your sorrow. I know it exists. You smile and cry through every day as if it doesn't, leading a life considered normal by many, but you know it too that it will return. It has returned."

"It shouldn't have!" Indumala shouted. "Master Makba sealed the nightmares. He said I wouldn't get them ever unless..." She paused, her eyes lighting up.

"Unless?"

"Never mind." Indumala felt her chest tighten. She grabbed her spear and got up. Mataraj followed. "I didn't know our first meeting would go like this."

"Life is unpredictable."

"I request you to keep my past a secret."

Mataraj peered into her soul. The former queen's heart thudded against ribs, the nerves inside her head aching. She knew it, she could feel it- the return of someone... "You can trust me."

"And I am stronger now. I can protect your son. No need to worry."

Mataraj chuckled.

Indumala bowed. "I take my leave." She left the room, casting one last glance at the towering woman.

Winds rushed in and ruffled the open locks of Pushyaar. It was a wuthering day, both in and out. She sat down on her bed, recalling the events of the past.

If what she saw today was true, then the tides would rise high. Changes would be ushered in soon. Either the smashed castles would be rebuild, or destruction would win another time.

"Return of the light," she whispered, as she laid down to sleep.

****

Indumala was again made to come back to the tower. He asked her to wait outside while he talked with his mother in privacy.

Inside, the Rajan looked down at his shuffling feet, his face drenched in trepidation. "I have something to say."

"If I was here, I would have stopped you from doing this!" she cried, shaking her head in disbelief.

Rudra had predicted this. He internally laughed at how foolish she was. But he could not blame her, for Mataraj had forgotten everything like everyone else. "Aryamna is like your son too, and he shall protect her."

True, he was indeed, like her son.

"But that doesn't mean you should give her away to a celibate! My Nadira is neither the daughter of a veshya, or even if I do consider her that," she paused to take a breath, "she is also a great student of your late Father."

Father- I don't even know my true one.

"She was different, a great woman," Mataraj continued. "She deserved to be a Queen, a mother to prosperous children! I understand, he is like Aryam too. I often tend to forget his real identity, but alas, you cannot exempt her from the marital pleasures!"

Nadira was a very seductive and charming woman. To think her life was to become bland and devoid of any love, it made Mataraj sad. But again, how could she give herself to someone who wasn't Aryam? The two lovers had begun on a stony, prickly path, but every such love story became epic.

And like every epic love story, it bloomed into a tragedy.

"Nadira doesn't remember anything, Maa. She still thinks herself to be a daughter of a veshya," Rudra reminded.

"Have you talked with her?"

"Never on this, I feel she will be reclusive to talk about it. Maybe I can tell Aryamna–"

"If you cannot, how will he do it? Do you think he will be able to provide her love and children?"

The curse had ruined her memory.

That is your son, poor woman! Albeit not your blood, but you loved him as much as you love me...

"Maybe Nadira has changed too, Maa."

"You don't understand, you should have brought her to the palace and given her the title of your sister. She should have been with me, I would have helped her remember-"

Rudra raised his hands; he couldn't withstand her words anymore. "Maa, he is a good man, trust me. You have seen him. He spent all his life working for the poor and needy, rearing the children whom society gave up or their mothers couldn't protect. He will keep her happy." Rudra took a deep breath. "He will."

Pushyaar sighed. "She doesn't remember me, does she?"

Her eyes glistened. There was a time once when she thought Nadira as a haughty woman.

But love changes everything– it gives light to the mind's eye.

"She doesn't remember anyone. But being brought back to her birthplace, she will be happy, I believe. If–"

No, God wasn't there, he wasn't sure of His existence.

"If destiny wishes to, she will remember everything. Even if many memories are painful."

"Don't remind me of it. I tend to forget that you are Pasha, and I tend to forget that Aryam is no more!"

Mataraj sobbed loud like a child who was orphaned by fate. She dropped her head back against a pile of cushions. "I have lost both of you- one to death, and one to transformation weaved by treacherous time."

His voice choked. The sky appeared grey and despondent, black clouds bringing rain- the third and final one for the season. Lightning struck the hoary barks.

He wasn't human anymore. He was a werewolf.

The sun was shining and glaring moments ago, and now, look at the sky- it was shedding the tears which Pasha couldn't, raining so violently as if vowing to wash away all peace.

After so many days, he got to hear that name of him. Pasha. He chanted it under his breath, the name rolling in his mouth. How lovely it sounded Perhaps, it would seem more euphonious from the lips of his Petra.

No, she isn't here. She is dead.

"I don't want to listen to the stories of the past. The past is no more, and thus we shouldn't look back. We only move forward," Rudra stated coldly, making Pushyaar grimace in narking pain. "Eternally, I walk."

Rudra exited the room and climbed down the steep stairs. Indumala was busy in her own world, wondering the depth of Pushyaar's magic that allowed the latter to peek into her life. That lady addressed her as Indu, just like her Baba.

"What are you thinking?"

Indumala came out of her reverie. "No, I was just lost. Let's go."

She saw that he looked gloomy. Maybe the mother and son had a tough conversation. It was best not to jump between the two.

Indumala was herself very tired. A tension spread across her back, tracing the lines of what she kept hidden always. It was a mark she carried since birth, said to be the root of all her agony.

"You can leave," Rudra said out of the blue.

The words hit her. Did he just dismiss her from duty?

"Pardon me, Rajan, but what?"

"You haven't met your mother after their marriage. I heard she is going to the guild tomorrow. You can go and meet them too, they will be happy."

Rudra's smile was genuine, but Indumala was disturbed by the agitated note in his voice. His fingers were shaking.

"Alright. I will start tomorrow-"

"No. Ask the guards to ready a carriage. Leave tonight. Don't be late." Rudra turned towards the shadows and wiped his eyes. "Be close to your loved ones. Cherish them, every fleeting moment is precious. You don't know when–" He was stifled by emotions. "You don't know when you won't be able to, anymore."

He didn't wait to see her reaction and hurried away. Indumala was shocked.

No, she couldn't leave. Her master was in agony and she would find out why.

"I am his bodyguard."

Indumala had promised to protect him.