Him, whose name isn't taken here, is alive.

****

The Ishgarians stopped in a village on the outskirts of Revat for the night, planning to continue journeying at dawn. Aryamna, alone in his tent, waited for Ishvara's letter to arrive.

She had been writing to him since he left for the war. Master Makba had sent for her an owl named Chandra which was trained under the best of mages. Ishvara had told him in the last letter how she was impressed by the intelligent creature.

Ishvara, or Nadira– she had two names now. Just like Aryamna did. His name didn't really have any deeper meaning, other than not being Aryam. 'Aryam', and 'na'. He wondered how Nadira got the name Ishvara. It was a direct indication of her divinity. Maybe Ishvara still wasn't aware of her powers. Aryamna too wasn't in a rush to convince her of godhood. He would take time peeling off the layers.

Breathing in the earthy air always felt rejuvenating. Several torches were lit to compensate for the lack of twinkling stars, and the moon, perhaps out of boredom, had taken refuge behind the dark clouds. Despite the gloomy shade of the sky, Aryamna was confident of things finally being alright. The very thought pulled his attention towards Indumala's tent. When she was unconscious, Rudra had been staying with her all day. Now, maybe because of her health's good progress or the fear of being judged, Rudra slept in his own tent.

The lights were still blinking inside her tent, and the tinkering of giggles came to his ears. Aryamna smiled– his heart had undergone a change after the war. He no longer felt Indu would be unsafe in Rudra's company. Well, that was the safest place she could be in. Even though cursed, Rudra wasn't a man of bad morals when it came to love. Aryamna, having fathomed it, was slowly accepting the blossoming relationship.

His harmonious study was broken when he saw Dilrobar approach Indu's tent. Way before, when he had rescued Dilrobar and brought her to Ishgar's palace, inhibitions jabbed him everytime he faced the woman. The past hurled back and he would doubt her integrity. Although with time, miraculous things happened. It reminded him of other people he knew, who were also liberated by redemption.

"Should I go there?" He was worried if Rudra would disrespect the lady again. He knew Dilrobar wished to speak to Indumala. It was a very sensitive thing. The past, where Dilrobar was a ruthless villain, couldn't be changed. And to be honest, Aryamna believed it to be fair for Indumala to not forgive her. But it didn't mean he wanted Dilrobar to suffer physically. Rudra used to whip and beat her when she had come to Ishgar after the plague. Aryamna shuddered at the remembrance– her blistered skin shedding, feet scraped and scratched, reduced to a pitiful heap of bones. Mataraj and he had to interfere to stop Dilrobar from being killed.

People did commit heinous crimes in many births. Death was a blessing that made souls forget the previous pain. However, few warriors learnt to outgrow their sins in a single life. In Aryamna's perspective, Dilrobar was one of those fighters. She was defeating her inner demons and rebuilding herself.

The screech of Chandra alerted Aryamna. The bird came and perched on his arm. After petting and kissing it, he took the letter, and then attached his own reply to the claws and set it free.

By now, Dilrobar had entered the tent. "I pray for her to be fine." Aryamna went to his bed, eager to read his wife's handwriting.

****

Rudra was not pleased to see Dilrobar, and she knew that well.

"It's not good manners for a third woman to come and interrupt a couple at night."

She was flustered. Her trembling gaze flickered between her formers foes. Rudra, sitting with his arms crossed, scowled. "And I didn't expect you to come all the way to Revat."

"I-I couldn't help."

"I gave you Madrik's head. Wasn't that enough? Coming here, you ended up being humiliated even more."

"Ri-right."

"Won't you leave–"

"I want to talk to Indumala." For the first time in over a decade, Dilrobar raised her voice and spoke above the haughty Rajan. His glare made her insides crawl and coil. But she had to do it. Caging the words would only worsen her situation.

"If that's so, I will remain here." Rudra jutted his chin and hissed, "I need to hear what you have to say. Hmph! You can't even look at Indumala, you are so ashamed."

It was true. Surprisingly, she could handle the fire of those ebony eyes, but the dazzling warmth of Petra reborn set her on flames. She did want to burn, did she not?

"I am sorry," she said aloud.

Rudra rattled and shook with delirious laughter. Covering up his face, now red with mockery, a spiteful glance peered from behind the mesh of fingers, ripping apart Dilrobar with an intense judgement. "You are really one of a kind."

"Perhaps she is," Indumala said, speaking up for the first time.

"And you are a big fool, Indumala." Rudra clenched his jaw. "Don't be so altruistic and selfless as to forgive your killer. Would you still call Hamal your friend, eh? Or do I need to make you take a tour of Revat?"

"Rudra!" Indumala shouted. He slid down in his chair, waxing his lips shut. Indumala's upset stare pierced Dilrobar. The bodyguard recalled every moment she had spent with her– the ones in her previous incarnation, and then in the present life. Both the Dilrobars were starkly different, a contrast of black and white.

Dilrobar took the opportunity to speak. "I do not seek forgiveness. I know I have done enough wrongs, and even though I am ambitious enough to dream of redeeming in only a life, I am not expecting to be forgiven. I know I have supported murder and assault, and you know it the most, Indumala, even more than your beloved Rudra."

"Indeed."

That one word from Indumala cleared a lot for Dilrobar. She grinned. It shocked Rudra, but that Rajan was a dumb immortal. Dilrobar knew secrets no one did. Well, except the now dead couple Hamal the First and Gandharvi.

And yes, two more people– Danube and Indumala.

"I have done things to women which even men can't. I have crossed all limits possible. You know everything, Indu. I do not need to describe in detail." Not while Rudra is around. "Some things can't be undone, I understand. Yet, I can begin a new chapter. Haters will say that my story should be ended by you, but I think it's my duty, not yours. I have worked hard to be a good person and I promise to be this. Being good is now a habit I love, and also being self-critical. The latter is a consequence of my sins, perhaps. I am going to carry it till death."

"You utter gibberish," Rudra murmured, massaging the bridge of his nose.

"Rudra, would you mind giving me and Dilrobar some privacy?"

"What?"

Indu took a deep breath. "I want to talk with her alone."

"You ask me to leave?"

She clicked her tongue. "I-I do not ask you to leave. You may come here after Dilrobar is done speaking."

"But why shouldn't I be here?"

"Because you are perturbed."

"As if you aren't?"

"I have braved so much, Rudra. I think I can take this. I lovingly ask you to please give the two of us some lone time. You can come–"

Rudra stomped out of the tent, cursing the soul of Dilrobar, wishing she be damned. His anger faded with the shadows, leaving behind a scent of loathing.

Indumala gestured Dilrobar to take a seat. "I am listening."

She cleared her throat. "You know I am not very different from Hamal the Second." Dilrobar fidgeted. "Maybe some women will take pride in what I and Ranavato did to him. It's very warped; how can one be happy in ruining the dignity of another? Hah, done that and got back a punch. My body was made to face abuse later on. Got a taste of my own medicine. And when I protested," she traced her scar, "I was burnt. Just like you."

Indumala curled in her toes.

"It's interesting how history has immortalised deities who bedded women without consent," Dilrobar continued. "They have been called heroes and what not, worshipped even. And here I am being called a whore."

"Are you justifying yourself?"

"No, you are mistaken. I am drawing a parallel. I do not seek glory nor mercy. I just want to be given a chance to prove myself. You see, we can go along and help the world. And when my time will be over, I will go."

"Where?"

"I am planning to go to the Valley of Saints."

Indumala realised that Dilrobar didn't have the knowledge of its every inhabitant, otherwise she would have never said so. "You can stay back for now."

"Rudra will be disappointed. He hasn't told me to leave, but I know he would dislike me being in Ishgar any longer."

"I think you should consider being here. You will be of immense help."

Dilrobar closed her glassy eyes. "Maybe. Yes, I have things to do."

They dwelled in silence for many minutes. Indumala arranged her clothes and packed them for tomorrow's journey. Dilrobar inspected the tent and admired the little flower pots. She felt awkward– maybe it's time for me to go. "Goodnight, Indumala."

"Wait." The bodyguard brought out a necklace. It was an old one from her collection, made of gold and copper. "Take this."

Dilrobar was amazed by the intricate simplicity of the jewellery. The universal mantra 'Aum' was carved on it.

Something so sacred, so special. Would it suite her neck? "Why?"

Indumala kept a palm over Dilrobar's. The latter's skin was now rough and aged, the charm of youth having deserted her. The ethereal beauty of her emerald eyes were dampened by the cruel scar.

"It's odd that I do not really feel so much for what you did to me than to him," Indumala said. "When it comes to me, I go numb. I feel nothing, as if that's how my body protects my mind."

"I was a villain, Indumala. I deserve your hatred."

"I-I don't hate you." Tears deluged her eyes. She parted her lips to speak, but had nothing to say other than a moan. Her head was splitting into two. "I just think if you really had to do everything. Was it necessary?"

Dilrobar didn't have an answer. Was everything predestined, or did she have willpower? Could she have changed the course of time?

"Dilrobar, I don't know if I will be able to forgive you. I will try to, yes. But sometimes, in moments when I am low and depressed, I feel so very confused by life. I never hurt you but you were so obsessed with killing me."

Oh, this was how it felt to remember the past. The gods were compassionate to remove memories for everyone born again. Indumala was buckling under the immense pressure of a unique destiny. But would Kalika ever push her in a storm she couldn't defeat? If she was here, she would also be out of it, unscathed.

"I sinned for power and lust, Indumala," Dilrobar held close the necklace like it was given to her by the Goddess herself, "and I regret it. Think this to be a new me. I am no longer what you knew."

"Do you promise?"

"Yes. I have vowed to shield you from every unrelenting tempest, be your guard in every arduous trial. I will help you no matter what. If I go against my word, Kalika will kill me. Or Rudra will."

Indumala let out a tired exhale. "He is obstinate and balky. No one could tell him the truth in these years."

"Your absence maddened him. He refused to reason, and so I thought it better to wait for your return."

Indumala chuckled, a nasal wheeze escaping her parched throat. "You knew I would come?"

"You are the bane of our existence, our light. You had to come."

"I see." Indumala swung her legs and twiddled with a lock of hair. "I will go and see where he is. Such a short-tempered guy. I swear he wasn't so unbearable back then!"

"You are probably correct–"

A heart-wrenching shriek made the two women jump in fright. They ran out of the tent, and as Indumala suspected, it was her Baba's cry. A crowd had gathered, and when Indumala reached the commotion, she was taken aback too.

Her friends from the guild, Radha and Raya, were back. But there was a drastic transformation in Radha's appearance, something which Indumala had never imagined.

Aryamna hugged the unresponsive girl, urging her to talk. Radha didn't open her lips.

The girl with hair as long as the roots of a banyan, whose magic lived in the luscious long tresses, was now bald.