Number nine, in this country, symbolizes rebirth and renewal.
I cracked my eyelids open. Stars sparkled in my peripheral vision. I groaned sensing the wide deep wound giving off a sharp, burning sensation as the healing process began at the corners. Nine minutes had gone by but it seemed to last an eternity.
After a few seconds of struggle and with a long wheezing grunt, I stood back up, freshly invigorated and strengthened, but somewhat unsteady. My legs wobbled a bit before I regained full balance. There was this itching sensation around my healing gut. My outfit felt wetter and heavier than ever. The force of the blood leakage seemed unstoppable. The bone-deep laceration was going to take time to repair, I decided. Having said that, no wound could ever be worse than the many ordeals I'd gone through in Uttarameer. It took great strength to remove my jacket and I tied it around my waist in the hope to control the profuse bleeding for the time being.
The droning sounds had died down completely. I kicked my heels and picked up the pace looking for the trails, my wobbling footfalls slapping hard against the floor. Chest heaving, leaked blood trickling down, my breath horrifically echoed through the corridor.
A slight hum of the breakage and the crackle of consuming wood floated through the still air, which then evolved into a full roar after roar. The continuous roars bothered me to some extent. Singh was in pain, I guessed, and I hurriedly followed the sound of the scream. The open corridor was right up ahead. Night befallen. Gentle hoots and screeches were audible. And the strong smell of ash and smoke lingered.
I suddenly felt a prickle at the edge of my consciousness, someone was trying to mind-connect with me. I ignored the distractions and sprinted through the mist and smoke at an alarming speed, all fearful that the chaos would lead to further disasters.
A door opened sharply in my way. Wind and fire poured out as though from a combustion chamber. Brightness swelled up. I slid through the fire, the slight warmth soothing my wound. And the first thing I saw was Singh sweeping off the floor with tremendous speed, his mane and upper body scorched off at the edges. He crashed against the wall and stayed down there. Head lolled aside. No!
Shashi tottered backward, on an elevated floor where there were tons of tools like spears, axes, and scrapers had been bolted to wooden beams. He let out a squeal. His shoulder was bleeding, there were teeth and nail marks- Singh must have chomped on him. He hurled a log of fire aside burning with natural fire, his face scrunched with devilish anger. The log smashed against a bed, the sheets. The duvets flamed up and at once the fire grew to leap around the room.
Rage pulsed through my veins, burning hot as ever. My brain jammed. I dragged my eyes away from unconscious Singh. The pressure my anxiety caused made more blood ooze out of my wound. Before Shashi could pull another trick of magic, I commanded my stone wanting it to do extreme things like it had never done before. Kill the scoundrel!
The thundering, writhing fire escaped out my hands, rotating and revolving like a devastating twister. The entire room now turned demonic resembling the Molten Vault, with fire turning into an inferno, devouring the essence of the natural fire. Insanity drove me beyond powerful more than courage, no matter the leaking blood awakened the swaying sensation despite my mind regaining its equilibrium.
A tight skittery feeling rose in the pit of my stomach. Vengeance, more vengeance, I wanted. The savage vengeance that kindled in my gut was a temptation tough to control. I needed to see the blood he had on his hands. My parents, Doctor, Ira Zutshi, King Aghasthya, and every poor innocent people whose lives were cut short by untimely deaths.
Shashi screamed and kept screaming, it was like music to my ears. He thrashed and squirmed with pain, his frame blackening and slowly disappearing behind the reddish fire.
YOU ARE READING
(Book 6) Hayden Mackay and The Third-Eye of the Pancharatna
Fantasy"Mrs. Zutshi, how different was Zarina Khan from you? She was a clairvoyant, that makes her a witch too, right?" "Mages have their own history, Hayden. They have categories too. Since the time of Lady Chandrika's authority over the sections of the p...
