At the end, forgiveness will come.

****

After spending half an hour with the good Maharani, a werewolf came to take Indumala to the court. Said the men were going to leave the palace, and Aryamna suggested she showed the culprits her victorious presence.

While passing through the same place, crossing the portrait of Hamal the First on the wall, Indumala heard somebody crying. At first she shoved away the thoughts, regarding them as her imagination. However, they didn't cease, and the more she ignored, the worse they turned. The sobs became a sharp plea of help, tugging at her motherly heart for comfort.

This could be another plot. Indumala was reluctant to follow the noise. But pushing them down only aggravated her sour mood.

"Can you please come with me?" she asked the werewolf.

"Where?"

"I think there was another passage. I wish to go there."

"But why?"

"I... I want to. Please come with me."

The werewolf shook his head. "The Rajan instructed me to not take you anywhere else. He will punish me."

"I will look after it. I am here to take the blame."

"He won't scold you, never. You are his Luna."

She rolled her eyes. "You are getting on my nerves. If you don't come with me, I will go on my own, and then you will be in deeper trouble. At least accompany me."

The werewolf sighed. "Alright, but only for sometime."

They went back and entered the dimly lit passage, meeting with a room at the dead end. It was bolted and secured with chains. The metals had begun to corrode. Indumala concluded this room was left locked for years. The cries came from inside it.

"Kick the door open," she ordered the werewolf.

He hesitated. "Can't you?"

"I don't want to use magic or strain my muscles. I am healing from the wounds of war."

"Do we really need to do this?"

"Can't you hear–" Oh, so it's only me who is able to hear the cries? "We need to do this."

The werewolf banged on the door and broke the locks. The door had got jammed, and it took enormous strength to push it open. A vortex of dust smacked their faces. Indumala coughed and waved her hands. Entering the room after the werewolf, she noticed it to be devoid of furniture, except a big pool of water and decaying plants. The water was infected with insects and had changed its colour to a slimy green. The werewolf peeked at the surface of the body, jolting back with a gasp immediately after.

"What happened?" Indu asked. "Is something scary in there?"

The cries, which had quietened after they opened the door, increased tenfold. This time the werewolf was able to hear them too. He blocked his ears and ducked down, rolling on the floor as if being whipped by the slash of air. Indumala didn't feel so crushed by the cries.

Unable to take the pain, the werewolf fainted. She stirred him, but he didn't wake.

She walked closer to the pool. Upon seeing her twisting reflection in the dark waters, she doubted if something diabolical was even present. As soon as she turned her back, a shock rippled down her spine. In front of her were a dozen babies.

They were crying. It was them whom Indumala had heard. They lay on the ground, motherless, kicking their legs and calling out for love in a language only known to a barren lap. Although covered in a white fabric, Indumala saw specks of blood on them. She went to pick one of the kids up, but her hand passed through it, a mushy embrace of flesh tingling her skin. The babies illuminated when she tried to touch them, twinkling in the shadows and then fading back. Her attempts to cradle them went in vain.

Soon, more babies surrounded her. She placed a hand on her bosom. It broke her compassionate soul to watch the babies cry. They were hurt at being shunned. She recalled her own baby from the past, the unborn life she was never able to kiss. If only she could care for these little gifts of god!

Overwhelmed by grief and the need to provide, Indumala had failed to notice the babies float above ground. She did now, thus a horrifying epiphany hitting her mind.

The babies weren't alive. They were souls, stuck between the realms of mortality and afterlife.

Even though her protective instinct was dampened by the emerging fear, she held on to the hopes of giving the children relief. But why was she able to hear them? Why did they come to her?

Was her baby too among them?

"Indumala!" The call of her Baba brought her back to reality. All of a sudden, the babies vanished, as if they were never there. Yet, Indumala noticed the sprinkle of stardust that the babies left behind.

A concerned Aryamna whispered, "Why are you here? And tears...you are crying." He saw the werewolf on the floor. "How did he become unconscious?"

"I..." Indumala frantically searched for the babies. "I heard them crying. This man fainted because of it."

"Heard whom cry?"

"Babies. I saw their souls. They are caged here."

A dreadful coldness washed over Aryamna. His vigilant eyes roved around the room. "They are victims of the plague. Perhaps these babies were born in this palace and died here. These ghosts will remain–"

"Don't call them ghosts, Baba!" Indumala frowned. "They are children."

Aryamna deflated, his shoulders dropping in defeat. "Fine. These children," he glared at the horrid pool, possibly kept to quench the thirst of the spirits, "will remain here unless someone frees them."

"What must be done to free them? And why can I hear them?"

"Indu, your magic is to breathe life into objects. I think it is growing stronger, which is why you are able to see the undead. You are a creator. Your powers increasing means you will be able to birth things out of the blue by the miracle of mind, and also catch wandering souls. Creation pulses in your veins."

The Creator, yes. Master Makba had told her so. Before the war she could only make pebbles fly in the sky, and maybe throw swords at will without the use of limbs. Master Makba had said her magic stretched far into the depths of creation– drizzle a spare of moments to dead bodies, construct castles of sand in mere seconds, and when the Divine permitted, capture spirits and vessels of life.

"You know right what it means?"

Indumala's eyes lost their lustre. She twitched and rubbed her palms. "I need to be careful."

"Yes. Your magic is rare and beautiful, but it costs to weave the impossible. And I do not want your heart to melt easily."

Rudra and her Baba wouldn't allow her to pay with blood to keep these souls. Yes, the souls who had gone adrift had to be lured in with blood, kept satiated with an essence of human aura. If she did this too many times, the Kaalchakra would be hampered and the Divine could kill her.

But they call me a goddess, don't they?

"People say I am the ansh of Kalika." Indumala smiled. "But I understand. There are so many suffering in this world and I can't save each."

"And not them. Indu, let us lock this room and leave."

Aryamna slapped the werewolf to consciousness. Together, the three closed the door. A pearl of tear rolled down Indumala's cheek. "Goodbye," she said, killing the mercy in her heart. This wasn't the day for her to flourish and free the souls. Perhaps in the future, she would.

****

"So, Revat is now under us?" Indumala lowered her voice and asked her Baba.

He nodded. "Yes. The whole of it. Rudra wants to put his own man, a werewolf in this kingdom. But Aishan says otherwise."

They joined the group. Rudra was shouting at the top of his lungs. Aishan, although quivering from head to toe, stood undeterred in the face of Rudra's callous rage. The Rajan of Aryavarta was dangerously close to the young man, his spit spewing hatred.

"You won't rule this kingdom. This is my domain. I have earned it."

Indumala raised a brow. She wanted to joke and ask if it was really him or her. She bit her lips, eyes glinting with amusement.

"I am asking you to calm down," Aishan took the path of diplomacy. "I will not be a Rajan and be a Lord as per your conditions. Revat will be under you and we will not take taxes. You will. But, I must be the ruler."

Rudra's face was red with anger. Indumala came and stood beside him. "Rudra–"

"Shut–" He swallowed his words when he saw who was standing. "Indumala." He exhaled. "What should I do?"

"He is begging to be a Lord."

"I am not begging," Aishan interjected.

Indumala scoffed. "Rudra, since he is not begging, let us remove him from authority. He died with his master."

"So be it." Rudra smirked. "You will get the throne, for the sake of it, if you beg."

"I still think we should put a werewolf," Aryamna advised. "Not any of their men."

"Perhaps he will betray us again," Indumala added.

"Oh, what does he even have now?" Rudra mocked. "Till now he was selling his body to that Hamal. Will he sell it to his subordinates now? Or will he try to bed my werewolves?"

Aishan flared up internally, but kept silent. His crimsoned, sleepless eyes narrowed to two slits. "I beg you," he knelt, keeping his head at Rudra's feet. "I will be just a Lord. I will follow your orders."

"Lick my feet."

"Pardon me?"

"Lick. My. Feet." Rudra poked the man's face. "Are you deaf?"

Aishan, seething with fury, let out only a little yelp. He licked Rudra's feet, cursing at the dirt splattering on his tongue and reputation. Pleased, Rudra pressed the shoe over his lips. "Keep your ugly mouth shut and dare not rebel. Or else, you know doomsday can come anytime."

"Hmm," Aishan murmured. He got up and joined his hands in a namaskara. "I will see you off."

"It's not over, filthy boy."

The voice caused tension in the crowd of Revat's ministers. Rushing in the room came Dilrobar, unveiled and accompanied by her own soldiers from Ishgar. "Remember me?"

Every lecherous lip dried up, and every pair of lustful orbs looked down. Dilrobar forced Aishan to stare into her bitter eyes. "Look up," she held him by the chin, "am I as horrendous as your dead Master?"

Aishan raised his hand to grab her hair. Aryamna was ready to throw his spear at the audacious youth, but Dilrobar hit the boy so hard that he fell to the ground. The heavy rings beat his jaw to pulp, breaking a tooth too. Blood trickled down, spoiling his costly robes.

"See what you made me." Dilrobar dug her nails threateningly close to the eyesballs of Hamal's lover. "You thought I wasn't alive?"

"Are you the veiled beauty?"

"Yes, you stupid man-whore. I lived a life of lie until revenge welcomed me home."

"You call me a whore?" Aishan pushed her hand. "You slept with so many men. At least God made you infertile, or else you would be popping babies every year."

"Me and babies?" Dilrobar shrugged. "I cannot be a good mother. And I am not a good lady. Not to you all."

Aishan's noxious gaze fell on Indumala. "And what about that reborn princess? You ruined her life."

Dilrobar staggered back. Shame shrouded her better judgment. She shut her mouth, feeling the stern look of Rudra eat her. The spite in his glance and the victorious laugh of Aishan shattered her dreams of a comeback.

"You will never be forgiven." Aishan dusted his attire and pointed a finger at Dilrobar's burnt scar. "You are monstrous in and out."

"Maybe I am." She touched the bad side of her face. "I-I am so horrifying. Despicable."

"Indeed."

Her countenance was penitent, courage slumping down at the rise of moral culpability. The tanned glow of her moonlike face was smeared with vanquishment. Shaking fingers raked through hair, every wish for light quashed by the horrors of past.

"It is I, who will decide if she must be forgiven or not. Not anyone else." Indumala's declaration came as a surprise to all. The onlookers had completely forgotten that she was capable of replying. Now when she spoke up, they wondered if she was doing it to cripple Dilrobar or guard her.

The lady, burdened with sins, looked at Indumala in awe. For a moment, she saw in her place a darker woman, her brown eyes equally mesmerising, but draped in a dress of patchwork and glitter. Lips shaped as a bow, words hurling at Dilrobar's heart. They pierced like deadly arrows, showing the mirror of conscience.

Indumala's gaze didn't betray her feelings. They weren't filled with kindness, no. Not wrath either, but such a shocking stoicism that Dilrobar cowered.

"If matters are settled, I think we should leave," Indumala told Rudra.

"Ah, yes. We-we should." Rudra turned to his men. "Let us go."

Dilrobar was not to be given a separate invitation. She followed their shadows, feeling Aishan's derisive sneer reduce her to a pile of worthlessness. Rudra and Indumala walked close by, hand-in-hand.

"Talk with my daughter. You must," Aryamna said.

Dilrobar wiped her tears. "I-I will." It clicked her mind. "You know who she is? Yes, you should as a father. Everybody knows."

"I knew it since her birth."

Dilrobar gaped. It didn't make sense. Aryamna was no one to have known Rudra or their past.

Unless Rudra...

"Rudra told you everything?" she asked. Aryamna didn't answer. "He didn't? You learnt by yourself?"

The Senapati gestured her to walk in front. "I will be behind."

You are a puzzle. She still couldn't make a head or tail out of it. Aryamna acted as if he were an all-knower, having knowledge of the distant past. He was never there with them. He came after the plague, and his origin was very disputed. This vampire was a mystery unsolved. Even Dilrobar could not figure out–

Realisation struck like lightning. It was strange, not a plausible theory. Nonetheless, she turned back to take a good look of the Senapati.

The blue eyes. Hauntingly beautiful blue eyes.

Why had she not felt this before?

"You will fall behind, Dilrobar."

She hurried to catch up. Out of the palace and under the accursed sky of Revat, a wise light shone over the billion questions in her mind.

Something was odd about this Senapati. Odd in a good way, perhaps.

Something which she didn't feel until now. Something that could change the entire history of Aryavarta.

****