Do not come too close.

****

Breaking the deafening silence, one could hear the screams of the still walls. Even the inanimate was suppressed, caged, lest it may cajole the gods to come down and topple the game of power.

When Indumala's feet graced the palace of Revat, corpses flashed in her vision. It was a heap of dead, debris of the past, memories lingering in the corner of her mind. They waited to break through the door of the present and deluge her world. The horrid stench polluted the sanctity.

A part of her was familiar with the memories. They weren't completely forgotten, just sealed.

Perhaps the seal was now broken.

Indumala couldn't help but feel too small, trapped within the darkness.

The curtains were drawn and very few lamps were lit. The vast expanse of the icy walls and the onyx marble floors weighed down on Indumala, as if they were walking through an endless tunnel. Her feet craved warmth, so did her eyes. It was a royal mayhem.

The Rajan of Revat had commissioned painters to tell the stories of his greatness to the world. In there, Indumala found him riding a horse, out on a hunt. Although, it wasn't a rich forest that he manoeuvred through. The naked bodies, so delicately portrayed, told it was a brothel. Lost in the cold greyish black tones was the elaborate crimson headdress of the Rajan. But his pupils shone scarlet, akin to two dying stars plucked from the sky. They were made in such a way that whoever looked at the painting would feel the gaze pierce their soul. The Rajan was as if omnipresent, the All-knowing entity.

Indumala squinted her eyes and inspected the inscription carved on the walls: I was there when nothing existed, she read in her mind, and I am here when creation flows. I am what kills you and gives you birth. I am my body, and also beyond, uncountable lives in my possession. To you, I may be a Rajan, but to those who have seen me, I am their God.

A shiver ran down Indumala's spine. Who was so sure of his greatness that they would claim to be god? Only the foolish commited such sins. Yet, this man seemed to be perfectly aware and complacent with himself.

Was he then, really someone important?

"He is a great orator." Rudra came and stood beside Indumala. "Unlike me. I find it hard to express my feelings, so forget about moving a whole crowd at the tip of my fingers."

Life was draining out of her body. The floor beneath sucked on her blood and heat. Invisible cold climbers curled around her dainty legs. Rudra came and kept a hand on her little waist. "Indu, does it scare you?"

Something was eerily similar about this place. She had thought it would be something new. Surely it wasn't the gruesome legends she heard about distant lands that crept in her mind. People used to put babies to sleep by narrating grim stories, most of them a fabricated or a twisted version of the truth. Revat could have been a personification of all those cursed lands. But Indumala knew it wasn't that. She wasn't confusing man-made fairytales with reality. Her memory wasn't so fragile.

Again, she couldn't remember being here. She had not come to Revat before.

A voice boomed in the darkest corners of her mind. Perhaps long ago.

She gulped. "It's strange, Rudra."

"Well put. This is a strange place."

Indumala's eyes roved over the other depictions. The walls were full of the Rajan's glories. They sang of his might, his endless empire stretching across Aryavarta. The latter was a blatant lie. Indumala knew it was Rudra's autonomy that reigned over Aryavarta, and even beyond, to Kemet and Gandhar.

Next, she saw the Rajan spreading alms among the poor, giving donations to temples and worshipping the gods. In many he stood equal to Mut, whom she recognised as a Kemetian deity, and in many the Rajan had put his own likeness in the image of Amun, the supreme deity of Kemet.

At one point, the paintings came to an end. Indumala walked close to Rudra. Aryamna was behind them, who had caught up later because he had gone to ensure Ishvara was comfortable in her room. By his looks, Indumala realised her Baba was also feeling discomfited. The ministers of the Rajan of Revat who were leading them towards the court halted. "We need to wait. The Rajan shall tell us if he is ready for the meeting."

Rudra chuckled. "It is audacious how he decides it's him who orders, knowing very well the true hierarchy."

"You are in the domain of our Rajan. Here, he is the most powerful. You must listen to him."

"Respect the norms of the place you are in," another general advised.

"Go on." Rudra rolled his eyes. "No use arguing with fools."

"Isn't the court towards the left? Why are we standing here then?" Indumala blurted nonchalantly. "We can wait outside the court. That would save valuable time."

The ministers looked at her like she was an ignorant fool. "Can't expect anything else from a woman of your age. All you can do is utter gibberish."

"But–" Indumala realised now. Why would I know? It's not like ever visited this place.

She saw Rudra pursing his lips. Had he told her about any court recently? Not that she remembered... Rudra refused to acknowledge her curiosity, his head turned away from her.

The smell. The maze-like twists and turns. The walls. Indumala knew them. Faintly, but she did. "Yo-you need to be more respectful," she told the ministers.

"Indeed. She is, after all, the bodyguard of the Rajan of Aryavarta."

The strident voice was as deep as abysmal craters, growing on nightmarish depths of unexplainable fears. At the bottom of his throat jagged volcanoes waited to erupt at the right moment. "Indumala, you are not wrong. The court was towards the left. It was changed after the plague."

The man emerged from the hood of darkness. Goosebumps pinned themselves on Indumala's skin when she saw his face. She knew him very well.

It was the exact man from her nightmares.

The one who would run after the innocent girl. The one who would try to malign her. The one for whom the helpless girl had burnt in the fire.

"It surprises me how you know. Did you ever come here before, Indumala?"

"I-I..." It is the same tint of brown, the same dirty blond. The same pair of thirsty eyes, the same smirk. The same stare that undresses me just by the wanton movement of the irises. "I did not–"

Rudra clasped her palm and cut her from speaking. "It isn't polite to make the Rajan of Aryavarta wait for so long. We should proceed to begin the meeting."

There was a desperate urgency in his voice. Indumala related it to how she had felt during the time of Rudra's revelation of being a werewolf.

The Rajan of Revat shrugged. "As you wish. I was just curious why the lady knew so much about my palace. Oh, as far I know, you were born during the plague, weren't you? Perhaps your life began here, in Revat." He closed the distance with her. "You wouldn't remember," he whispered.

"The court, Hamal," Rudra ordered, pulling Indumala back.

Hamal, Indumala's eyes widened. So this must be Hamal the Second, the vampire ruler of Revat. Rudra's arch nemesis.

The throne room was bathed in tones of bluish black, molten obsidian mixed with glittering blue. Hamal led the way, his furry cloak skinned from a tiger swirling with the wind of their steps.

Above the throne, a huge statue of Hamal hung suspended from the ceiling. It was his face but with the coiling horns of a ram. The beard growing on his chin narrowed down to a shape akin to the head of a spear. The arms of marble were stretched out in a welcoming embrace. Rajan Hamal sat on his throne, his right foot resting on the skull of a deer. "Take your seat, my dear guests."

Indumala sat between Rudra and Aryamna. The former had refused to let go of his touch since Hamal's arrival. Rudra's hand was always in contact with Indumala, like now it was placed on her thigh.

For the first time, Indumala saw fear dance in his glassy ember eyes. Instead of his innate fire, she saw anxious waves, wary of the unknown.

"I am glad to host the Rajan of Aryavarta and his precious confidants. I have organised a feast for you all."

A table was laid in front of them. From the brain of a lamb and minced meat to blackened, roasted vegetables and fish– the palette was diverse. Hamal had taken care to ensure each guest got a unique dish. Like Rudra recieved fig curry and bread, and Indumala received fish balls and a condiment.

"The chutney is made from roasted peanuts. I hope it is your favourite."

The confident smile easily spilled the truth that he knew of her choice. Not just hers, but of Rudra's too.

Suddenly, Indumala didn't have an appetite.

"I would like someone to taste each of the dishes before we consume them," Rudra demanded. "Or else we are happy to go hungry."

"So much of mistrust is not welcome, Rajan. Anyways, I will have one of my boys taste it for you."

As asked, a boy took a spoonful of every dish and proved it to be devoid of poison. However, he refused to drink the contents of Aryamna's chalice.

"Why does he not check it?" Rudra asked tartly.

Aryamna dug his nails in the table, splinters of wood peeking out. Ominous shadows hid his face. Casting a tired glance at Rudra, he whispered, "It's not required."

Indumala leant to see what the chalice really contained, but Aryamna shoved it away from her grip. "Baba?"

"It's alright, my dear. Whatever this is, it can't be venomous."

"I know the Senapati doesn't love garlic. I have asked the cook to prepare each dish keeping that in mind. Also, Indumala, don't worry. Your Baba has got a special drink, which unfortunately my boy can't chug down." He heaved a long sigh. "It would kill him."

Indumala shook her head and grabbed her Baba's arm. "Don't, Baba. You heard what he said! If the boy drinks it, he will die. Then how come you–"

Fearlessly, Aryamna drank it in one go and wiped his lips clean. Indumala noticed red spots on his palm. Was it pomegranate juice? But they weren't so red...

So red as blood.

"Enjoy the feast, everyone," Hamal declared.

Indumala barely touched anything. Even Rudra didn't desire to relish the opulence. It was only her Baba who ate like he had been fasting for days. How could Indumala focus on her food, even if it was made from her favourite peanut, when she was scared of losing her Baba?

She closely inspected his face for any signs of illness or nausea. Shockingly, he looked fit as a fiddle.

"I tried my best to break the ice, Indumala. But I see you are not eating. The fish lays untouched."

It took all of her strength to look at that ridiculous man. Why did he resemble the beast from her nightmares? The nightmares that Makba said were glimpses of her past, the life where she had belonged before an inevitable death.

Her Baba must have known about this Rajan Hamal for years, and understanding that this man was a living vision of her buried past, kept the topic of Revat away at all times.

Indumala didn't want to think about it, but the only wise explanation one could provide now was that she wasn't meeting Hamal for the first time. She had met him before too– when she was a different entity, when she wasn't Indumala, in a life that was left ablaze.

And if this man was connected to both her and Rudra, was he, along with her Baba, keeping a secret from her?

"She must be exhausted from the journey," Aryamna said. "She will eat when she wants. Also, thank you for such a wonderful array of food."

Indumala furrowed her brows. "Baba?" she called, quiet enough for only him to hear.

Aryamna smiled at her. She swore she had never been so scared of a smile before.

"I am a very hospitable man. I love to entertain my people."

"The drink was great too," Aryamna added. "Though I would have appreciated some more spice."

Hamal raised a brow. Amusement flickered in his stony stare. "As in?"

"You know, Rajan Hamal. You know I love some ashes. It elevates the value."

Aryamna's self-conceited smirk was a contrast to the pressed lips of Hamal. The latter clenched his jaw. "I will remember, Senapati. Next time, I will pour some ashes."

"Yes. You love it like that too, don't you?"

"I do. I also like it pulpy and thick."

"Oh, I would rather have it smooth. Pardon me for my gluttony, but that man standing near the pillar– he looks perfect to make a drink. Can he...make one for me?"

"That's Aishan." Hamal balled his hand into a fist. "I am afraid he cannot. He is my favourite."

"I am sorry, Rajan Hamal." Aryamna's softened gaze was a meticulously done sham. "No, you don't need to share."

"But I love to snatch what is close to others." Hamal's eyes glinted with green malice. "Don't expect the same fairness from me."

"I understand, Rajan Hamal. It is in your nature. Maybe we are of the same flesh and bones, but our souls and hearts are starkly different. It startles me how we, being so similar, are so very different."

"You aren't afraid of me plundering your favourite?"

"I do not disclose what is close to me."

"I think it's pretty obvious who are."

Aryamna chuckled. "You are one interesting man for sure, Rajan Hamal. If that is obvious, I think I make it pretty much crystal clear that I am, at the end, a being of you?"

"Wha-what is happening?" Indumala pleaded her Baba to stop. "What gibberish are you saying?"

"Nothing that you must know, Indumala." He cut her without a care. "Rajan Hamal, I better finish my food. I am so hungry!"

The clinking chime of his laughter blistered Indumala's heart. A storm brewed in her mind.

"You will not speak in between your Baba and Hamal," Rudra hushed in her ears. "Even I don't."

"Why did Baba say he is like him?" Indumala flinched. "It's disgusting. This Rajan seems horrendous."

"Try to eat as much as you can. We better get over with this as soon as possible and retire to our bedrooms."

Because much more awaited them.