Brilliant rays of sunlight poured in through the windows of the study as Kamalabai's sharp voice – though it now trembled with age – recited the chaupais from Tulsidas's literary masterpiece. Shri sat in front of her, listening attentively to the verses Tulsi had written in praise of Hari.
Kamalabai would occasionally look up at Shri, and under the pretext of asking her questions, she would confirm that the girl was listening. The first few times she did so, Shri answered her grandmother in words she herself was impressed with, but eventually Shri felt her mind becoming increasingly clouded with thought. Every few moments, she blinked rapidly to clear her mind and focus her attention on her grandmother's words, but to no avail.
After all, they weren't normal words that were pulling her into their world.
A divine force was at play...
Shri felt a sharp pain pierce through her head. Wincing, she tried to reach up and massage her temples, but her hands seemed to have turned the weight of stone pillars.
"... tumhe mujhe hi khonaa hogaa Shri."
Ramachandra's voice rang in her ears. A million times over, the very same words he had spoken to her the previous night, and she wanted to ask why, call for help, anything – but there wasn't enough voice in her for even a whisper.
"Naagpaash!"
Poison. Shri felt herself becoming increasingly paralyzed by each passing moment, and she felt it was due to the pain that was spreading through her body like poison. But what she couldn't comprehend was the feeling that she was being pulled into a deep hole.
And with a brief 'thud', he fell to the ground, lifeless.
A scream pierced through the study, a scream she had mustered with any and every remaining bit of energy left in her. Then, she too, fell to the floor, unmoving.
[Boundaries of Lanka, Treta Yug]
"SHRI?"
Shri's eyes fluttered open, and she gasped for breath, shivering and mumbling things as they came to her mind. Feeling the urge to sit up, she attempted to rise, but stopped midway as she wondered how on earth she had ended up in such a half-dead state. Just as she tried to sit up once more, she felt a pair of strong arms hold her, gently placing her frame against a nearby rock.
Her vision still blurry, she mumbled, "W-what happened?" A hand cupped her face, slowly stroking her cheek in an attempt to wake her up, and a voice pleaded, "Shri, no... how did you even-" the tone turned authoritative, "Shri, open your eyes, please." And then it hit her. Shri's eyes shot open, her sight welcomed by Raghava kneeling before her, dressed in simple cotton, but glowing all the same. It was the concern in his eyes, however, that made Shri sit up on her own.
Seeing her rise, Raghunandana heaved a sigh of relief. Shri's lips parted to say something, but then she paused to examine his figure; something about his presence fell off. The prince of Ayodhya sat there like an illusion, his image faltering once in a few moments. Shri's hand instinctively went up to cup his cheek, but in that instant she felt a thousand butterflies take off in her stomach and she stopped herself, the tips of her fingers lingering longingly at Ramachandra's jawline. He smiled.
Standing up, Kaushaleya held out a hand for Shri, helping her stand. As she scanned her surroundings, Shri felt countless questions starting to form in her head. As if he knew what she was thinking, Ramabhadra told her, "Look around yourself, Shri." She complied.
The land looked no less than a battleground, what with the pools of blood and fallen weapons at every step, and Shri shuddered involuntarily at the stench of rotting limbs – and their misplaced corpses – that hung in the air.
