She swallowed back nausea.
“None of you should touch it,” she said to the men.
“Elder Priya,” Yogesh said, clearing his throat. He sounded fairly nauseated himself. “We should not—the empress would not want anyone to be risked. The business of burning the trees can be left to the local villagers.”
“What villagers?” Priya asked. “There’s no one here. They’re all long gone.”
Yogesh’s soldiers made uneasy noises. But they soon melted back, returning to the path, leaving her alone with the trees.
“I’m staying,” said Sima quietly.
“Sima. It’s not… it won’t be interesting.”
“Someone has to keep an eye on you.” She crossed her arms.
There was no point arguing, and Priya didn’t want to remain here, smelling the stink of rotting meat, any longer than she had to. As she stepped closer, the call of green and life inside her grew stronger. Her limbs felt steadier, some weakness she hadn’t even been aware of seeping out of them.
Priya closed her eyes. Reached—and finally, blessedly, felt the green reaching back. She pushed herself through the green, through the sangam, through cosmic rivers and the deathless waters that ran through her blood—and grasped the rot. Froze it to stillness. It would grow no further, now.
When she returned to herself, she was gasping, lungs heaving, and Sima was holding her up. They were both leaning back against a healthy tree, still alone. It couldn’t have been long, then.
“I told you that you needed someone to keep an eye on you,” Sima said, voice a little shaky.
Priya managed a laugh.
“Maybe you’re right,” she said. “Come on. We’d better head back.”
They straightened up and returned to the soldiers. Behind them, the trees had settled. Nearly alive again, the ground around them resting easy, the sweet scent of fresh grass now the only smell in the air.
“Did you know there was rot this far from home?” Sima asked, voice a whisper.
“No,” Priya whispered in return. Her blood still hummed and sang distractingly, warm with relief. She wasn’t broken after all.
But she didn’t know why her magic had faded to begin with. And that… that worried her.
That night, lying on a mat on the ground with Sima beside her, she tried to reach for Bhumika again.
It felt like she was learning how to walk a familiar path with her eyes closed. It could be done: Her feet knew this particular soil, the way this path curved and dipped. But she’d always had her eyes to rely on before, and now she had only her skin.
She closed her—real, not metaphorical—eyes and breathed deep, slow. Deep, slow. She sank under her skin, an old and practiced motion, seeking the sangam. If she could reach Bhumika, she could at least reassure her sister that Priya was safe and sound. And she could reassure herself that everyone in Ahiranya was safe, too. Maybe then she could continue on this journey without fear for what lay behind her.
The waters opened up to her. Radiant darkness. Waves lapping around her, as stars slipped their perches to whirl at her feet.
“Priya.” Bhumika was kneeling in the waters. Three rivers swirled around her. She was smiling—a fixed, even smile that looked strange on her shadow of a face. “You’re finally here.”
“Did I worry you? Of course I did. I’m sorry. I couldn’t get here. I…” She shrugged helplessly, relief pouring through her. “Honestly, Bhumika, I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get here again, so let me tell you everything I can.”
She spoke of the journey—the rot—the fear in Yogesh’s wary eyes, his prayer stones, his watchful men. The strangeness of feeling distant and disconnected from the power she’d possessed in Ahiranya. And Bhumika listened to all of it wordlessly, fixed and still.
“Why are you still smiling?” Priya asked, eventually. “Are you really that happy to have me gone? Weren’t you worried at all? I’m going to start feeling insulted.”
“I’m just pleased to see you,” Bhumika said. “It’s been too long. I was worried.”
“Is everything alright in Hiranaprastha?” Priya asked. “Padma’s fine, and—Rukh?”
Bhumika inclined her head.
“Everyone is well,” she said. “Just as they should be.” Bhumika reached out and touched a hand to Priya’s face—the shadow of it shaping Priya’s cheek. “Go back to yourself,” she said. “We’ll see each other again soon enough.”
