He steeled himself and picked up the hilt—and with the hilt, the black shards of stone still upon it.
Emptiness, cold and painful, swallowed him.
The stone was a negation of magic. Magic green or magic flame, it was all the same. It would hurt him, but perhaps it would also protect him.
Arahli left the mahal. He walked into the woods. In the distance, the trees smoldered an awful gold.
He walked to Bhumika. The flames were coming from the border of the forest, and had not quite reached him yet, though he felt them. But Bhumika had clearly run from fire. Ash stained her face. She stood in front of the two mortals with her, shielding them with her body. Her eyes met his own.
“Bhumika,” he said. The leaves above them moved with his voice, spearing her face with shadows. “Why did you come back?”
Her look assessed him slowly. There was no fear of him in her eyes.
“I promised myself I would keep the Ahiranyi people safe,” she said. “I came for them, and my child, and my sister. You know me, yaksa?”
“Yes,” said Arahli. “Of course I know you.”
“I knew you once,” she said slowly. “I feel it.”
“I was the one who broke you from the waters,” he told her. “I was the one who gave you the knowledge of how to end our lives.” A step closer. “The fire will burn Ahiranya entirely,” he said. “It burns everything in its path. We have killed Ahiranya, you and I.”
“We can lead our people out of the forest,” said Bhumika. “Seeker’s paths could lead them to safety.” Her gaze was unflinching. “I won’t easily give up on hope.”
Strange, to have her brother’s memories, fresh and bleeding within him, and not be her brother. Strange, that she could be so entirely Bhumika, and yet empty of her old memories. Perhaps it was this strange kinship, this twisted mirroring, that made Arahli extend a hand to her.
“Come,” he said. “Your child waits for you on the Hirana. Take my hand, and you can see her once more.”
The man behind her stiffened. But Bhumika stepped forward and took Arahli’s hand with utter trust.
“Yaksa,” she said. “Show me the way.”
MALINI
Priya lay in her arms.
I should not have picked her up, thought Malini. But Priya was no longer screaming. She was silent and unconscious. Her face was unmarked, apart from the glow of leaves under her skin. But the rest of her…
Malini swallowed, raising her head. Sahar’s teeth were gritted. Her bare arm looked awful. Two priests of the nameless who had tumbled out of the path with them came to kneel beside Sahar, and one carefully examined her arm, not quite touching it.
“How did you stop the fire?” Malini asked Sahar. “It burned the yaksa to nothing. How did you save Priya and yourself?”
“I don’t know, my lady,” Sahar said helplessly. Her face was gray with pain.
“You were holding a knife.”
“Heart’s shell. But I thought it only had use against the yaksa and their power.”
Heart’s shell clearly had power against fire, too.
Light and shadow flickered over all their faces. “If you can run, we must,” one priest said. “E-Empress. If you can carry the uh, the Ahiranyi…”
There was a thud. Sahar jerked at her side and fell to her knees.
An arrow protruded from her shoulder. Malini stared at her, uncomprehending for a moment before horror dawned. Then hervoice returned to her, as her heart gave a painful thud.
“Sahar,” Malini gasped out.
Sahar’s mouth moved soundlessly.
