Black Avatare

45 | SWORD

Wave after wave of emotion inundated Binara. She was sucked back into Kalacakra—the transition instantaneous and jarring. Her stomach heaved, sending its contents rocketing up, and acid burned her throat. Coughing, she resumed her careening course in the gravity vortex.

I have no sister. It was me. I was seeing my older self. Binara's whole being ached. The chasm inside widened. It was up to her to comfort her child self and set her on the path to ghosthunting. It was up to her to draw her into the closed-off study, so that she could access the legacy left behind by the great Mayadunne ghosthunters.

If she failed her task, she shuddered to think of what would happen. It would be a paradox that would break her reality. She would not be a ghosthunter, and she would not have made the journey to Mount Meru. There would be no one to procure Chandrahasa or stop Mahasona. A terrifying image of death and destruction overwhelmed her inner eye.

Despite the yawning emptiness inside, purpose and desperation made her hold onto sanity. Binara gulped in rapid breaths, and the chaos around her stilled. The pulses of light grew brighter and steadier, strobing with less nervousness.

The next instance she neared was yet again the study. This time she knew what to expect as she decelerated to a slow glide.

Binara plunged through and made her way to the window, though her limbs protested louder as fatigue set in. She gazed down at the garden while her child self watched her with fascination.

As brief as a gust of wind, the encounter was over, and Binara withdrew to Kalacakra. She reeled under the whiplash of the transition.

The next meeting was going to be the hardest.

If this worked the way she expected, then she should have access to a specific moment in the garden. Sure enough, the instance materialized within reach, and she locked onto it. A larger-than-life hologram blossomed from the curling planes of Kalacakra. The garden, bathed in sunrise and mist, stood out like a beacon amid the darkness around her.

Binara balled her fists, timing her jump. Three.

Her gaze focused on the sparkling drop of dew that clung to a leaf. Two.

She was so close that the scene dominated her view. One.

She lunged.

It took a few seconds to orient herself. Overgrown weeds swished against her legs, dappled under the sun that filtered through the trees. The morning light was too feeble to chase away the mist, which was thick and heavy as it blanketed the ground. Cold pressed in, making her glad that she had Diyan's cloak. Behind her, the deserted wing of the walauwa glowered down in all its stone-and-iron severity.

Binara concentrated on her breathing, forcing herself to contain her emotions. Her knuckles drew taut as she resisted the pull of Kalacakra. Part of her didn't want to do this, simply because she refused to accept that she had no one all along. Her heart ached at the growing void inside.

Suddenly, she noted movement in the distance. A small figure emerged from the mist, panting and fearful.

It was time.

Binara strode forward, trailing the cloak over the grass. Each step wore her down, like pushing against an invisible tether. It was too unreal that she was reliving this moment—an event that shaped her entire future. The sense of loss and melancholy settled deep in her gut.

Her child self stiffened, and her big-eyed stare panned from the manor down to her. Even though Binara knew exactly how this meeting would play out, it did nothing to ease her agitation, and she half expected Little Binara to run away.