“It’s all right. The monster is dead,” said Shota.
As Shota launched into an explanation, Veer’s narrowed gaze shot toward her and lingered.
Chandra waited, but he didn’t comment on her newfound powers.
“We should get out of here before more of those monsters come back,” Veer said, struggling to stand up.
“There won’t be any more of these monsters,” said Chandra. Her voice came out sonorous and otherworldly, after the recent power use. No one, except Girish, would meet her eyes.
“The arrow I used is a genocide arrow. They destroy the entire family line.”
The freeze around her emotions crumbled finally, showing itself in the form of a sob lodged in her throat. Misery welled within her.
She told herself she had no choice. But the dictates of her teachings—to respect every creature’s place in the world—wouldn’t allow her to shy away from the fact that she had, in one fell swoop, destroyed an entire family of creatures.
Guilt warred with her conviction that she had done the right thing.
It must have felt right for the creature to attack the people who had invaded its domain. As right as it had felt to her, justifying the use of her arrows, knowing their full destructive potential.
Just as Veer must have felt it was “right” to chop off the arm of a lifeless statue, if it meant saving the lives of the people he had sworn to protect.
Something glinted yellow and bright on the ground at the goddess’s feet. Chandra frowned, trying to see past her tears. Impatiently, she wiped them away and crouched to get a better look.
Her eyes widened. She picked up the object with trembling fingers and stood.
“The key piece,” exclaimed Shota as he came over to look at it. “But…how did this happen?”
The piece lay glinting innocently in the palm of her hand, warm despite the cold temperatures. Everyone gathered around in amazement and began speaking at once.
“Maybe it got dislodged in the fight somehow?”
“But nothing happened near the statue.”
“Well, who cares? It’s now in our possession. We best get out of here as quickly as possible.”
A nudge came at her elbow. Billadev held the lotus key toward her. Chandra squeezed out a few drops of blood from the prior slice she had made and smeared it onto the key piece. In her other hand, she held the lotus.
At once, the lotus blossomed with a blue light. The bloodstained key piece left her hand and floated gracefully through the air and attached itself to an empty slot in the row of petals.
Immediately, the image in the center of the raised receptacle changed.
An idol appeared, made of the same black-sheened metal.
“That is the idol of Brihadeeshwar,” said Chandra. “Likely the one at the Temple City of Brihadeeshwar.”
* * *
Chandra still had the lotus in her hand—although it had gone back to its bud state—the most recently added petal still visible by its smear of dried blood.
Billadev and Shota were organizing people, arranging transport to carry the injured up to the surface. Fortunately, the tide has receded, making the job easier.
Veer was lying still on the pallet, quietly watching her.
“You have been holding out on me,” remarked Veer. His voice was still rough but seemed to be getting better.
Chandra barely glanced at him and shrugged. She felt wrung out and exhausted, but she dreaded what came next.
“You have magic too. I watched you practice,” he spoke again.
