Vir braced himself for the out-of-body experience that was to co. This ti, he was expecting it. This ti, it wouldn’t be nearly as bad.
Nothing happened. Or rather, his consciousness was not whisked away to so distant place, nor did he lose control of his body. Rather, his surroundings warped from that of pitch-black stone tunnel to a brightly lit laboratory.
And in the middle, pulling on his ragged white hair, was none other than Janak. Not the impressive avatar Vir had once encountered, but the withered shell of a man he’d seen in the first vision.
Janak after the fall.
The lab he paced around was not the one that Ashani called ho. Vir couldn’t know where it was located, but it, too, was filled with machinery of all sorts. Along with far more sinister objects. Limbs, internal organs, and entrails of all manner floated suspended in clear glass jars that cluttered the surfaces of several tables.
Vir approached the balding man—though that wasn’t quite the right word. His hair was uneven and splotchy. Fuller in so spots and entirely missing in others. He seed to be muttering sothing to himself.
“Janak?” Vir asked, hesitantly approaching the man.
The instant he did, however, the whole space… shifted montarily. For an instant, the lab and everything in it, including Janak, was gone. But then it returned.
Vir moved again, and once again, the space seed to destabilize. Whatever this mory was, it had clearly not stood up to the rigors of ti. Vir only hoped it lasted long enough to show whatever mory was buried within it.
Janak walked to a corner of the room, and Vir gingerly followed, causing more destabilizations along the way.
Janak finally stopped in front of a familiar-looking symbol etched on a slab of stone—the one Vir had just touched.
Attached to it were all manner of tal cables and contraptions Vir couldn’t even begin to guess the purpose of.
Janak placed a small tal sphere on a table in front of the slab and connected a handful of tal cables to it. After fussing over it for several minutes, Janak stood back, apparently satisfied.
It wasn’t until the deity began talking that Vir understood what this was.
He was, quite literally, watching the formation of the mory that was inscribed into the slab.
“Janak again,” he said. “It’s been three years, and I fear I am no closer to a solution. I’ve tried everything I can think of. Committed acts my late colleagues would abhor. Cris, really. They’d have stripped of my status and had exiled. Or worse…” Janak trailed off, looking into the distance. “I suppose speaking of cris is a bit rich at this point. I very much doubt anything I do here can trump the destruction of all civilized life on the planet…”
Janak coughed several tis, and if Vir didn’t know better, he’d say the man was sick. But that was impossible. Citizens of the Pri Imperium couldn’t get sick.
“Alas,” he said, wheezing. “I fear I have little ti. The prana is… corruptive. It breaks equipnt. Undoes preservation inscriptions. It even alters the genetic sequencing of bodies at a rate I’d not thought possible. The mutations have given rise to an alarming number of dangerous beasts. Giant abominations of creatures in the world before.”
Janak shook his head. “I digress. Bad habit I’ve picked up lately. It becos difficult to concentrate. I fear my mind will fail before my body does… It is only a matter of ti now. The one commodity I do not have. How will I right the wrongs I have wrought? How will I restore this world I have so irrevocably broken? And if I fail… Who will carry the torch in my stead?”
A shiver ran down Vir’s spine. What was Janak saying? Did that an…
“I will restore the world,” Janak said with more conviction than before. “Even if it is the last thing I must do. Even if I must cheat death itself. Even if I must sell my soul to Ravana himself. At this point, I doubt history will rember as anything other than a villain. As the one responsible for the genocide of his people. No, perhaps that’s not quite right. Perhaps history will not rember at all. After all, who is even left to rember?”
Stolen story; please report.
Janak somberly reached out and touched the tal sphere. The instant he did, the world went pitch-black, and it took Vir several monts to realize he’d been returned to the tunnel.
The tablet in front of him split down the middle, cracking into two pieces that fell off the wall and crashed into the ground, crumbling to dust.
Vir took a step back, his mind spinning from the revelations. He refused to believe it. He couldn’t.
Janak caused the destruction of his people…
The thought was so ridiculous that Vir didn’t dare voice it. How could that be? There must have been sothing else. Right? Janak wouldn’t…
Vir’s breaths grew frantic, coming quickly and short.
Stumbling, Vir turned and fled that dark place as fast as he possibly could.
Vir was silent the whole way back, and thankfully, Ashani had the awareness to notice Vir’s turmoil, and the tact not to ask about it. At least, not right away.
It was only once they were nestled safely back within Ashani’s ho, and only after Ashani set out a plate of fabricated fruits and nuts for Vir, that she took a seat opposite him in the living room and spoke.
“I have often wished for a sympathetic ear to hear my woes,” Ashani began. “I cannot promise I’ll be of assistance, but sotis, a friend is all we need in our tis of duress.”
Vir smiled. That was Ashani—ever polite, always sensitive. “Thanks, Ashani, but you needn’t be so reserved. I was going to tell you. Just… It may be difficult for you to hear.”
Vir wanted nothing more than to rush back and tell Ashani. Just that halfway through the tunnel, he’d realized the implications of that. For Vir, Janak was a long-dead god. For Ashani… Well, he was like family.
How would she react if she knew he was the one who had caused everything she’d ever cared about to disappear? How would she react if she knew Janak was the one who killed Siya?
And yet, the truth was to do Ashani a disservice. This secret was not one that could—or should—be kept.
She deserved to know.
And so, for most of the trip back, Vir had agonized over how to break the horrible news to the goddess. He’d prepared a line that he felt put it in the most gentle terms.
Yet, when the ti ca to open his mouth, he found the words that ca out were nothing like his carefully rehearsed speech.
“I saw a vision. Back there. A vision of Janak. After the fall. His mory.”
Ashani went still. Her eyes bore into Vir’s. “Go on,” she said, clutching the edge of the table.
“And… There’s no easy way to say this, Ashani, so I’ll just get it out. The explosion that killed off your people and split the realms… May have been Janak’s doing. I think Janak may have been the one to cause the fall of your people.”
Ashani blinked, and for the longest mont, Vir didn’t know what was going through her head.
Then, of all things, she laughed.
“You… find this funny?” Vir asked, thoroughly confused.
“No, not funny. My apologies,” Ashani said. “Just that you are wrong.”
“I’m… sorry?” Vir said. “I saw Janak’s mory. It was a… diary, of sorts. He confessed to this, Ashani. He confessed to being the cause.”
“Vir, Janak would have given his life to save his daughter. Tell , how would the destruction of our people possibly align with that goal?”
Vir shook his head. “It… didn’t seem intentional. In the mory, Janak had driven himself half to death to find a way of ‘undoing the wrongs he’s wrought’. I don’t know what that was supposed to an, but he didn’t look well, Ashani. His hair had gone white, and he looked like half-dead.”
Ashani’s smile slowly ebbed. She sat back in her chair and stared up at the ceiling.
“That’s…” she trailed off. She needn’t have said any more. Vir knew exactly what she was thinking.
“In his endeavor to find a cure for Siya, he might have caused the destruction of the Pri Imperium.,” Vir said softly. “I’m sorry. I hope it’s not true. I hope he’s mistaken. But I felt you ought to know.”
For the first ti since he’d known Ashani, her gaze contained no playful smile or motherly warmth. Instead, she regarded him with the sa sort of eyes Janak had.
Hollow. Empty. Dead.
Ashani pushed back her chair and walked away without uttering a word, but halfway to the door, she stopped.
“There must be more,” she muttered, just barely loud enough for Vir to hear.
“It might have been an accident,” Vir admitted. “But that doesn’t alter the results.”
Ashani shook her head, returning to the table where Vir sat. “No. You might have seen Janak through mories, but I knew him. I knew of his brilliance. There was no mind in the Imperium sharper than his. No soul more brilliant. He would not make a mistake like this.”
“He seed to think he did,” Vir said.
“He would,” Ashani fired back. “Don’t let his bravado fool you. Underneath the posturing and supre confidence was a man who second-guessed his every decision. Who fretted sleeplessly over his daughter, and who worked himself to the bone. I would not be surprised if Janak felt he had erred sohow.”
“Yet you disagree,” Vir said.
“Janak did not make stupid mistakes,” Ashani said firmly. “There is sothing more to this. I am sure of it.”
Vir rose from his seat and squeezed Ashani’s hand. “Then let us find it together. Janak left several more of these tablets, sprinkled throughout the realms. If there is more to this story, as you say, I need to find it.”
Ashani nodded, and her smile returned, though it was clearly forced. “Then what are we waiting for? Let us depart at once.”
Forced or not, Vir returned her smile. “Let’s.”
He had arrived in Mahādi alone, fearing the health of his wolf.
He would leave with the goddess he’d left behind.
Let’s see what the Demon Realm thinks of this…
Demons weren’t ready for the return of a living goddess. No realm was, and if he was honest, Vir wasn’t sure if he was ready, either.
None of that mattered. Because Ashani wasn’t just divine company. She was a close friend. And there was a whole world out there he couldn’t wait to show her.
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