The Last Rudra

It came quite a shock to Ishit that he had been miraculously cured and had already come around almost a week ago.

What's more, he had lost his memory to the strange illness, which had kept him in a three-year-long slumber. 

Then what was Illium? 

A dream-as his father had put it while avoiding eye contact.

The Firewood forest, the Night mountain, the Tower of Vishnu, the Naga empire, the temple of Rudra, Princess Kia, cruel Kasma, and lady Nyx, whose waist-long hair had a rainbow hue-- were all his unfulfilled fantasies?

The frightening basilic serpent that welcomed him in the Osric Valley, and Vellu, the griffon rider, who rescued him from the deadly snare of the white serpent --all of them were his unconscious mind's creations?

When did his bloody mind become so imaginative? And why the hell did he have a fantasy of dying early and in so many uncanny ways? Ishit found it hard to buy his father's explanation. 

If everything was really his imagination, how come he knew every basic spirit path? He never read a scroll. It was this question that had put his father off. 

He scolded him for stealing the scroll from the library and jeopardizing his life. 

And If his mom hadn't thrown a daggered glare at him, Ishit was sure, he would've sent him flying again. 

Yet, he didn't let him go so easily. Bhadra, the fowler, was entrusted to see to his punishment. 

Ishit gave his mother a pleading look, for he didn't want to be anywhere near this hooded fowler, who lived in the dark tower, but she gave him a helpless look. She couldn't do anything; it was his fault for being so disobedient. 

She hadn't forgiven him for wrecking the chamber and ignoring her. 

Ishit felt his golden days had been over where he could get anything just by whimpering.

Esha, his elder sister, seemed quite pleased at his misfortune. It didn't surprise him. Ishit had always been a bully and rude to her. Ishit felt ashamed recalling his previous self.

Whether it was a dream or not, his journey to Illium had taught him one thing.

  Life is too short to fight your loved ones. So grab every chance to enjoy their company when they are still with you. 

Ishit reminded himself he would try everything to ease the dark circles around his mother's eyes and lines on his father's forehead.

He would work hard and become a great yoddha, just like his uncle, who had single-handedly defeated the Morian warlord Nifak and his large army of spirit-defilers.

Ishit's train of thought broke when someone knocked at his broken door. His lord father, despite his mother's displeasure, had ordered him to spend a whole week sleeping in the wrecked chamber with no bed, no chair, and no window.

After a reunion with his family, Ishit had to clean his place. Thanks to the spirit, he could use telekinesis or it would have taken him all night.

The harsh training he had gone through in Illium had forged his mental fortitude, so sleeping on the stone floor was nothing to him. 

Startled, Ishit sat bolt upright. The stars were twinkling in the sky. 

Who could be so late? He wondered as he swept his spirit sense, which was not very powerful due to lack of practice.

  It was his father. 

Puzzled, Ishit removed the battered door. 

"You're still up?" Oman asked as he walked in, looking around the wrecked but cleaned room. 

"I think I've enough of sleep," replied Ishit, wondering if his father was here to check on him. 

"I hope this little discipline put some sense into you," Oman said as he glanced out of the broken window. 

Ishit couldn't blame him, at least not this time. His actions had truly gone too far this time. 

But could it really be blamed on him? The discovery of him being a spirit wielder had come quite a surprise to him. The mishap, which occurred three years ago, had proved he couldn't be a spirit wielder. So when he sensed spirit around him, he couldn't help but try it. 

"Son, I have something to ask you," Oman said in his dead serious voice Onish sensed the invisible shield strengthening about them. This was the realm he wanted to reach- merging the mind with the spirit. With just a thought, you could guide the spirit---no need of mudras and whispers. 

"It's extremely serious, so answer me truthfully," Omna went on. Ishit was startled by the solemnness in his father's voice. He had never seen his father so grave, at least not when he used to talk to him. So, he stopped his wandering thoughts as he listened to him. 

"As I didn't want to worry your mother, so I didn't mention it before her." Ishit could feel his father's eyes on his face, 

"Tell me. How do you come to know about Moriyan magic?" 

The question made Ishit puzzled. What was he talking about? He did hear about Moriyan magic, , the evil power, the spirit-defiler wielded in Moriya. They said that Mora, the evil lord, had discovered a new force that knew only destruction and death. And that was all Ishit knew about this taboo magic. 

"I don't know Moriyan magic," he said, wondering what made his father think so.

Oman didn't speak immediately. His dark eyes scrutinized his face as though searching for a lie.

"What spell you were whispering when my attack sent you flying?" said Oman, his eyes now looking into Ishit's eyes. 

"Oh, at that time," Ishit said as he tried to recall, but he found he had no memory of the spell… he found a elapse in his memory...as if he someone had stolen that bit of memory. 

"I don't know. I think I've forgotten it" Ishit knew his father wouldn't buy it. But he couldn't help. The attack had made him see stars. How he was supposed to remember what he was doing at that time. He had tried many spells and spirit paths, and he was sure none of them was evil magic. 

Oman kept staring at his face without uttering a word. Ishit could see the deep concern for him masked by severity on his father's face. The greying hair around the temples told him these three years hadn't been kind to the lord of Minaak. 

"Ok, I believe you." after a long pause, Oman said. "Can you inform me when you recall it?" 

"Yes, dad," Ishit said, feeling relieved. 

"And promise me you will never use it ..never. Son, it can endanger our family."

Ishit didn't doubt his words. The moriyan magic was taboo in Varta. A sign that one had colluded with the spirit-defilers.

"I swear on the name of spirit I'll never use it." Ishit took the most solemn oath a spirit wielder could take. He knew, with his past history, nothing could make his father relax. If he really believed that Ishit knew the dark magic. Only an oath like this could put his mind at ease. Now, if he ever wielded the evil magic, the spirit would punish him for breaking the oath. 

Sure enough, the deep lines on his forehead relaxed hearing his solemn oath. He patted his shoulder with a light smile. 

"Good, Son!!" he said. "We can't afford any misgiving. Everyone is watching us. Many things happened while you were in a coma," Oman went on, telling Ishit about the disappearance of Ronan, his friend's father, assassin attempt on Guha, the conspiracy of spirit defilers to kill him, the mysterious death of a djall in the Nirvawoods, tragedy of the fire tamers, and the secret reports filled with warnings about the coming Inna's feast. 

Ishit had never imagined so much had occurred in his peaceful Minaak. The news of Ronan's disappearance made him sad. Ronan was like a second father to him. His favourite uncle. He had to visit Guha, his best buddy. These years must have been hard on him. 

And as for spirit defiler wanting to assassinate him, Ishit felt it quite ridiculous. But his father wouldn't spook him for no reason. There must have been some truth in it. However, it didn't make him afraid; instead, he felt quite excited. And as if sensing it, his father warned him to be careful while he roamed in the city. 

The death of the fire-tamers was also a personal loss to him. He had known Lustro since he was five years old. He used to watch him performing at the city square. Their fiery dance in the air and talking to the fire, making the fire obedient like a pet, all these things would leave Ishit amazed. 

He wondered why Moriyans were interested in the performers, for as far as he knew, Lustro and his troupe had left the royal army after his uncle's death. 

And then this djall, the evil servants of Mora, who had turned the entire forest of Nigel into a barren land within a night. What was the dark creature doing here in Minaak? And what had killed him? 

Ishit kept wondering, lying on the stone floor when his father left.. He didn't know when he drifted into sleep.