She suddenly fell to the ground, her head ringing with a splitting headache. Like the sound of rushing rain, multiple echoes filled her ears. Ghostly cries of men and beasts fleeing from doom.
She felt the crushing weight of a centuries-long regret in her soul. Flashes of events she had no recollection of, flickered behind her eyes—of battles, slaughter and death. Her breath grew short, trying to stave off an encroaching dread of searing grief.
The rational part of her brain understood that she wasn't supposed to feel this way. That it was an overreaction to whatever had just happened.
Tears sprung unbidden in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. A scream was building in her throat and her hands went to her temples.
“Make it stop. Please. Make it stop.” Her voice came out scratchy and raw. Chandra looked up at the yaksha who came to stand beside her, feeling lost.
“Chandrasena,” said the yaksha, offering her a hand. The pronunciation of her name centered her in a way nothing could have.
“I’m sorry, Princess.” Chandra couldn't be sure; it was difficult to think past the chaos in her head, but she thought he sounded sad and haunted. “This is all my fault. But you should leave this place. Immediately.” He got a hand under her elbow and then said, almost under his breath, dragging her away, “You have a little too much ofherin you.”
“Why? Who’s her?” She whimpered in pain. “Who am I?”
Makhadeva ignored her question. “There is a reason people’s past lives are sealed off from memory, Princess. I’d be doing you no favors telling you about yours.” The yaksha extended a finger toward her. “If you wish I can help you forget all this.”
“Wait!” Her very bones hurt, and she wanted to lie down for a very long nap. Whatever curiosity she might’ve had about the past, paled beside the thought of not experiencing whatever she was going through right now. But she needed something from the yaksha. “I...I need some assurance that you are going to leave my husband alone.”
“I give you my word as a yaksha, your husband will not be harmed any further. Now please let me help you.”
Chandra managed a nod, then felt the feather-light brush of bees against her forehead. A blessed relief invaded her as the voices and memories cut off.
The last thing she remembered, as her eyes rolled to the back of her head,were the stars that faded away slowly into the black sky. And then she remembered no more.
Chapter 39: A wrong that had gone for too long
Veer woke by the enchanted pond for the second time and felt better. His stomach seemed to have turned itself inside out after the most intense vomiting he had ever experienced. He thought he was going to die painfully from all the purging.
The yaksha had informed him, with relish, that the animals that roamed this magical forest were in fact danavas living in exile.It had set off another puking fit and was almost enough to put him off meat permanently. Almost.
He tried to forget what he had seen just before falling into an bone-weary slumber—the torn-apart, half-digested parts of the animals he had thrown up, stitching themselves together until the beasts, or rather the danavas, re-formed themselves.
His head still ached and his stomach was sore, but yes, he felt much better. Veer lifted his hand to make sure the red ring was back on his finger, so he was no longer a danger to anyone.
To his everlasting regret, he remembered everything. Every single thing he had done to her and every injury, every claw mark, every bruise he had given her.
He owed his wife his life, but he wished she didn’t need to put herself in danger to free him from the curse. His feelings of gratitude were overwhelmed by the guilt that he had put her in that situation. And anger at himself.
A small temple was situated to one side, with a small stone statue of an obscure goddess carved out of stone. A vine wound itself around the feet of the statue, sporting fragrant orange blooms. Faded marks of turmeric andkumkumsignified that it was once worshiped.
He could hearhersplashing in a nearby enchanted pool. Perhaps, taking a bath. The yaksha had offered her the use of the pool’s waters of healing. He got no such courtesy for the burn wounds that dotted his torso and arms. But then, he did fare better than Chandra. Veer wanted to speak to her, yearned to see for himself that she was all right. But he tarried, too ashamed to face her.
He instead cataloged their belongings—their small satchel containing the healing stone, a couple of pieces of cloth inside, and a few odds and ends lay at his feet.
Apart from the clothes they had on, and their weapons, they had nothing left. His sword was propped up against a tree trunk. He knew it was the yaksha who had found everything scattered through the forest. Despite the being’s actions toward him, Veer was thankful he didn’t have to search for their things.
A scream cut through the air. A woman’s scream. His feet made the connection before his brain did. He snatched up his sword and dashed through a dense clump of shrubs to reach the pool.
A giant serpentine body rose from the water, opposite where Chandra was plastered to a rock, immersed up to her neck in the pool
With his sword in hand, Veer jumped into the pool without stopping to think.
“Are you all right?” he asked, attempting to shield her behind him. A cursory glance revealed no life-threatening injuries.
He got a good look at the monster and realized it wasn’t a snake like he had thought.
A giant caterpillar with human arms swayed in the air.
