“Chaos in the streets,” the Nagini completed. “No, I suppose this is no time for celebration, is it? Such a shame. Regardless of that one’s actions, this day will be passed down in demonic history for millennia to come. It feels wrong not to remember it.”
“Remember it, we will,” Thaman said. “Just… afterward. When their blood has cooled. Besides, I hear you have your own situation to deal with?”
Kira sighed again. “News travels swiftly across the realm. I imagine my next weeks will be filled with damage control.”
Thaman grunted. “That goes for all of us.”
“May Badrak be with you, Thaman.”
The Bairan Raja nodded. “And Yuma with you, old friend.”
Raja Sagun’Ra appeared in an unlit room, as most Iksana-built rooms tended to be. Lights were unnecessary distractions for most Iksana, kept mostly for juveniles and invalids incompatible with Sight.
This room, however, was not unoccupied.
“Your eyes respond,” Zarak’Nor said in the traditional greeting, falling to both knees and pressing his palms together.
“Your actions. The impact, the fallout. Do you understand?” Ra muttered, barely more than a whisper. Nor heard the words, nonetheless.
Rising slowly to his feet, he hung his head low. “I’ve shamed the clan with my loss, Raja, but—”
“Nor,” Sagun’Ra said in a voice that silenced the younger Iksana. “I give you free rein. I let you poison your enemies.”
Zarak’Nor froze. “I… I did—”
“Poison. Not any demon. Vaak. Of the Ash! The Akh Nara. Master of Gates. In poisoning him, you have turned him against the Iksana. Understand?”
Nor, seemingly realizing that playing dumb would only make his situation worse, grasped the Raja’s forearm. “He-he does not know!”
“Tara Panav knows.”
Nor frowned. “That girl? What of it? I can have her silenced—”
“She is not to be touched. Nagas see poisons as we see prana. The beast lives. The flower identified. Failed and discovered.”
“I-I will make this right,” Nor said, stammering. “I swear it upon my name. He’s just a boy. Akh Nara or not. We can assassinate him. Now, before he gains power. We can strengthen our ties with the Chitran! It’s what they want.”
“And the Ravager?”
“We’ll avoid him. Kill the Akh Nara when he’s away.”
“He has Baira. Soon, he will have Panav,” Sagun’Ra said, pacing around the pitch-black room.
“Do you think he will succeed?” Nor asked. “Do you think he’ll overthrow the Chitran as he claims?”
“Uncertain,” Sagun’Ra replied. “Irrelevant. Only the fool makes an enemy of an ally.”
“Ally? Him?” Zarak’Nor fumed. “You mean to pledge the Iksana to his cause? You mean to betray the alliance? You will doom us all.”
Sagun’Ra gave one look. A single look, and Zarak’Nor recoiled in sudden realization of just how precarious his situation truly was.
“Perhaps you have doomed us already.”
“You can’t know that,” Nor muttered.
“Hear me, Zarak’Nor. The competition. Forbidden. Now and forever. The Akh Nara. No hostility. Understand?”
The Ghael ground his teeth.
“Nor?”
“I hear and obey,” Nor said, bowing his head, even as he continued to mash his teeth together, drawing blood.
“Nor?”
“Yes, Raja?”
“My Sight. You cannot hide. Do not fail me again.”
“Yes, Raja.”
By the time Zarak’Nor had raised his head, the leader of the Iksana was already gone, sunk into the shadows.
120THE BURDEN OF FAME
“They’re still there,” Aida seethed. She’d snuck a peek outside, but recoiled from the window just as soon as she’d cracked the curtains open. “It’s been hours and they’re still there! It’s the middle of the sun’s night, for Yuma’s sake. Don’t people have anything better to do?”
Vir slowly opened his eyes to Cirayus’ dimly lit room. Several hours had passed since the chaotic events of the tournament, and while Vir had wanted to have Ashani create a Gate to escape the city straightaway, Cirayus had convinced him to linger for a while longer.
There were simply too many Rajas in town not to maximize this opportunity for the future.
“You’re not just a Warrior anymore, lad. You’re a ruler. A head of state. They’ll be wanting certain reassurances, and I highly advise that you give it to them. Individually.”
Cirayus had, of course, been right. As much as Vir loathed currying favor with the various lords, he had little choice in the matter. He wouldn’t ever leave if leaving meant failing to sow seeds that would bear fruit for the rebellion.
As such, he’d sat cross-legged in Cirayus’ abode and entered his mindscape, training with Shardul and Ekanai to unlock the Shield Chakra.
Despite Ekanai’s combat knowledge and Shardul’s more general wisdom, he’d yet to make meaningful progress. Though, after having obtained two, Vir now understood the process.
Chakra required a mental image that represented the core of one’s self, and one’s beliefs. Chakras were not simply a means to power—if anything, that was just a fortunate by-product.
At their core, Chakras had everything to do with understanding the various aspects of one’s self. For the Foundation Chakra, it was to visualize and understand the embodiment of permanence and solidity that resonated most with him—the literal Foundation upon which all other states of enlightenment were achieved.
In his case, it had been the Godshollow, which manifested as his mindscape.
For the Life Chakra, Vir had to accept that death was simply part of the circle of life… And that the deaths caused by his actions, either directly or indirectly, could not be allowed to cripple him.
Like the mighty trees of the Godshollow that had lived through the ages, witnessing birth, death, and untold destruction, Vir would bear the weight of those actions, standing tall despite the mounting weight.
What then was the Shield Chakra to him? Defense, yes. Protection of himself and his loved ones… Or so he’d thought. While he felt like he was edging closer to the correct meaning, he’d yet to obtain it.
Unfortunately, time was not on his side. Now that the world knew the Akh Nara had returned, Vir had a sneaking feeling he’d be relying on the Shield Chakra a great deal in the upcoming days. Opening it might very well be a matter of life and death.
Vir glanced at Ashani, who was currently pestering Cirayus to show her each of his cooking utensils, and to demonstrate how each worked. Cirayus, for his part, was more than happy to, bending over backward at her every request.
He’d cooked up a half dozen dishes, which Ashani sampled at a furious pace. Vir wondered how her body even digested the food, given her inner workings. More Imperium magic, he supposed. Could she truly taste the food?
One look at Ashani’s reactions of pleasure upon each bite put that suspicion to rest.
“This is amazing, Cirayus! I’d no idea the culinary arts in this realm were so advanced!”
“Well, I wouldn’t know about that,” Cirayus said, half laughing as he rocked from foot to foot in embarrassment.
Though a warm scene, the distance between the two was as vast as the chasm that separated the realms. Vir couldn’t help but wonder how long it’d be before his godfather saw Ashani for the person she was—as a soul in desperate need of friendship and belonging. Not a being to be worshiped.
“Ah, good, you’ve finished your meditation!” Cirayus said, bringing Vir a bowl of delicious lentil soup.
“That one is especially good,” Ashani said from her seat at the table, in between mouthfuls of the same soup.
“Thanks,” Vir said, taking the bowl. She was right. It was incredible. Savory, slightly tangy, and incredibly comforting.