I slowly removed the lid off the casket. The stench of decomposing flesh wafted out into my face.
Celina gripped the handle with both her hands- her eyes vacant, lips slightly quivering. She raised the Pride high in the air above Almourah's faintly visible beating heart. Color of her face drained seeing Endira's beloved alive and breathing and already been put inside the casket.
She whimpered when their eyes met.
Pruthvi and Leena stood far away beside the entrance, for Leena had flatly refused to walk inside the dreadful place that was making her dizzy. Tyrell, however, took a few steps closer, his expression dead serious and inscrutable. He squinted, trying to make out the manner of the year-old ordeal that had happened in this chamber involving Celina and then me. The floor was covered with dark dry blood, the scattered lumber and the burnt leaves of Vrindahina. He slumped his shoulders down and cocked his head slightly towards my side. But he could not bring himself to meet my eyes and that made me highly uncomfortable.
He returned to look down at Celina who raised the dagger a little bit more. She was sad and tearful but ready to bid farewell, to mark the day as the beginning of a new era for the country. Her grip tightened and in a swift moment, she plunged the dagger down.
Tyrell and I stirred with the amount of force she had applied. A skimpy drop of blood came out of the heart, but the dying body made us aware of the terrible pain the dagger was giving him. Almourah let out an inappropriate scream that howled around the chamber and echoed off the walls of the lighthouse. It was a full-throated cry for help, piercing through my heart. I bent my head down and rubbed my nape trying not to feel apologetic.
"Mother!" was Almourah's final word and I recognized his hoarse voice, only this time it struck grief. Celina couldn't keep up with it anymore. Clutching her bracelet containing the Moonstone, she dropped completely down on the floor and sobbed quietly. Tyrell crouched beside her and held her in his arms, lending a shoulder to let her be done with the mourning she couldn't escape from.
He was the only one among us, I noticed, who wasn't tending to show any grief. He stared at the thin rotting piece of meat convulsing to death in the casket. A spark of anger flitting through him and in the brief moment of time there was something in his eyes that stated a lot of things, his expression saying the words of the newborn spirit and the desperate.
Your death will shower the peace to the woman of the country.
Your death will replace hatred with love and beauty.
There shall be no more Tyrell Kissler turning into Rahu Kerenza.
With the end of the cleanse so near, there will be none similar to Shashi Thribhuvan born in any wholesome family.
Almourah stopped moving and that made me blink. Celina wiped her eyes and tried to pull herself together. The Pride was going to come with us. Panchayat would need proof, wouldn't they? So I leaned forward and held the dagger to pluck it out. In the process, I figured Almourah's eyes yet fully open and staring at me, flashing the malice directed towards the First. I was startled looking into those wide eyes, but then let out a sigh of relief realizing that he was indeed dead but his hatred has not. Wishing for no one to live the dreaded life as he had, I gently closed his eyelids. "Rest in peace," I whispered, and quickly pulled the dagger out.
"Hardik," Pruthvi, standing at the entrance, flipped the carpet open and said, "You know what to do."
With a whoosh, the carpet flew inside, took a full circle beneath the roof of the chamber and gently laid itself down beside the casket.
------------------------------------------------
Despite having their minds made up, Pruthvi and Leena weren't able to cope up with the harshness of the inclement weather. It was zillion times worse than Dakshinpur, Leena complained. It indeed felt different. The temperature seemed to have dropped significantly since Almourah's death, with wind downright blustery, fresh and clean, and absolutely free of his dark magic.
YOU ARE READING
(Book 5) Hayden Mackay and The Pride of Haima-Endira
Fantasy"I am really sorry," I whispered, "I always knew that it was terrible, but I could never have guessed, not even in my dreams, that people of this country can cross all the limits." "Not all the people," she said, softly yet sternly, "Just a few. Oth...
