(Book 6) Hayden Mackay and The Third-Eye of the Pancharatna

13.2. Partner in Crime

Haimavati

The rays of the setting sun streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling window, with dust particles floating in the beams. The world in the early evening was laden with silence and the only heart beating inside the chambers was hers.

Haima sat reclined, head laid on the top of the chair. Her unseeing eyes stared blankly up at the roof, vision blurred and camouflaged with moisture. There was difficulty swallowing. She knew her spirits were low. The state of raw abandonment and the feeling of loneliness were compromising her sanity. This loneliness was new, something she hadn't felt before. Not even when her mother died and her father sold her off for a pitiful amount of gold and silver. Her eyelids fluttered shut, trails of tears coarse down the sideways of her temples. Was she going to be a lonely queen with all lost fortunes for the rest of her life?

Maybe this was a temporary phase. Maybe her children would come back to her someday. Maybe Endira will need company someday and reward her with a new start to a friendship. Just a little more wait...maybe.

Boom!

Haima jerked her eyes open. Black smoke swirled inside her opened-door chamber, with a stench of burnt flesh sweeping over. Singh appeared from behind the smoke, walking slowly and authoritatively, for the very first time. His muscles shifted from shoulder to shoulder. He seemed unhealthy, eyes wide opened and glossy. Something did not look right. Haima sat up straight and frowned at the cuts and bruises on the sides of his body. There were gruesome black burnt marks on his limbs. The ends of his mane were scorched and as dark as ash.

Singh stood in the middle of the chamber and said, "He is in my realm."

The news came as a violent blow. Haima slowly stood up, burning rage hissing through her body. Windows shattered and hot air bellowed in with a snarling yell. The ground gave a fierce budge. Fragments fell scattering the width of the floor, and shone against the shadowy floor as though stars in the night sky. Wrath consumed her, engulfing every fiber of her being. With Endira gone, Almourah gone, Lady Chandrika's deceptions, and even her children abandoning her, this dreadful news made her forget all boundaries of loyalty and morality.

Enough is enough.

The thought riled her up. She had always been on the other side of the endless loop, but now it was time to leap. "Singh, answer my question," she said. "How important is it for you to have a master?"

"As important as rays are to the sun and waves are to an ocean," he said, his voice strong and the way he worded sounded like the piercing force of a sword's swing. "A Constellia is meant to be an extension of Samagraha. There is no meaning to a Constellia without a Samagraha. Together, we are kindred for life. We believed in Lady Chandrika when she promised us a better life, a great life. But now..." he faltered, his shoulders broadening.

"But?" Haima asked hoarsely. "Say it."

Singh hung his head down and turned away. But he did a bad job at hiding his despair, at hiding his miserable deposition. Some things could never get past her. His eyes weren't just glossy, they were brimming with tears. "You've always spoken of how I deserve a master who doesn't drown me in tears of frustration but makes efforts to wipe them away. I want that master. I want the one who gives meaning to the name the Fire of Vengeance."

Haima let out a sharp breath. "That is possible only if..."

"Seven of the First generation Samagraha are already dead," he said. "Five more to go. Almourah is killing humans and these Samagraha are only watching him do so. They are of no use to this country anymore, Milady. And I'm ready to see them all perish for good."