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

19.1. Farewell, Singh

Haimavati

Little rivulets of wetness ran down Haima's temples. She croaked and moaned, feeling her head heavy and eyelids weighted with rocks. The subtle awareness of who she was returned with the flowing thoughts of the strained connection to her waking life. The aroma was fresh, unlike the last she remembered, fresh like the early morning air blowing in her garden. There was a gentle brush of hair against her cheek. She unfurled her lids anyhow, and the image of a huge lion's face staring down at her appeared.

"Singh, you came." She tried to smile, her heart filling with contentment but also sorrow as her voice did not penetrate. Her stomach growled. She was exhausted and famished, so much so that she thought she'd be driven to insanity. She held her stomach, the gnawing pangs of hunger slowly increased with her growing awareness, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. Haima was about to fall back into another state of unconsciousness.

"Milady, here," Singh said and pushed a ceramic bowl toward her.

The bowl was stuffed with brownish liquid broth and aromatic herbs which made the dish more exciting. Haima at once picked it up and held it high, closer to her mouth. Her mouth burst with rich and savory flavors. She wolfed it down, feeling ecstatic with her insides reloading with energy.

Something twitched. And it was then Haima noticed that at a little distance away from her another woman, probably mid-thirties, was sleeping soundlessly on her back. Her face gleamed with sweat and her skin green and blotchy, her lips slightly parted and her mouth emitting a long streak of drool. There was a suppressed exclamation of pain, and her chest rose and fell heavily. What's going on?

"Milady," Singh called her back and turned his head pointedly aside. "There's someone here to see you."

Haima jerked her head aside. Amidst all the autumn foliage, another Constellia sat by a staggering waterfall. His pot floated on a pool of water containing numerous blooming lotuses.

"Kumbh?" She whispered, confounded.

The Constellia did not spare a glance but had his hands caressing the ripples in the water as though taking pleasure in it.

Haima frowned and took a look around the strange place. The last she remembered was the grisly closed room bearing blood and floating mist. She remembered Parthiva's voice tormenting her day and night. But this current place seemed unnaturally beautiful, to the point that it scared her.

Wide and open, the place was surrounded by colorful trees and thickets of beeches. The fiery brilliance of their leaves was a sight- scorching oranges, blistering browns, and molten reds, with sun rays peeking from between them casting shadows on the pond. There was a typical power in the tranquility, as she sensed in her veins, even with the gentle roar of the streaming water. Haima looked above and found herself seated in a domed shelter intricately designed with glass and timber. The shelter was seemingly in the middle of a recreational area.

She sought Singh's attention and pointed at the place. She tried giving wild gestures with her free hand asking her whereabouts.

"Sahasra El Sayed," he said, thankfully understanding her inept signs. "She brought you to this place. And Kumbh gave me the directions to meet you here."

"Sahasra?" Haima gaped.

The sound of the footsteps, muffled and barely audible, came from behind her. Haima turned around and from the long passageway a woman, with a sharp-angled warmly expressive face, strode towards her direction. Wearing a milky white floral embroidered saree, and her long hair side swept, and braided with white flowers and beads. She came closer and sat down on the floor beside Haima. A small chain stud Aquamarine across her throat twinkled like a star. There was a small smile tugged on her face, but Haima noticed the fresh tears glistening in her red eyes and dried tears had left white streaks on her cheeks.