For what felt like forever, I slipped in and out of sleep, vaguely thrashing but unable to wake fully. Even in my delirium, I could feel it. I was about to dream an exceedingly bad dream.

  Then, just as suddenly, I was awake. The bed was wet with perspiration. The bedroom door was still closed, but bright yellow light seeped in through the gaps.

  I knew how this one went. Taking a deep breath, I pulled myself out of bed and crept over to the door. Though this was a dream, I took care to be silent as I pulled it open. Memories of being eaten alive did not fade easily.

  I instantly recognised the room on the other side, though I had not been in there for a long time. It was a small drawing room tucked away in one of the corners of this wing of the house. I had a very vivid memory of accidentally locking myself inside for a few hours when I was a child, though I remembered nothing else about the circumstances. Except for the fact that I had happily whiled my time away playing with a quivering, somewhat sentient ball of flesh. I had actually been somewhat disappointed to lose my playmate upon rescue.

  Now that I think about it, I really should have examined my childhood better all these years.

  Now, though, the room was well-lit with a few ancient oil lamps. On one of the couches surrounding the low wooden table, Kirti was desperately shuffling papers, murmuring to himself under his breath. I wanted to get closer to listen, but who knows how much of this was the dream and how much was reality? What if he noticed me? It was certainly possible, as I knew from experience.

  “Yes… the mosque… should not be… a few kilos of salt should… maybe the iron… no, that won’t… what about the second quarter… a few more patrols…”

  That was all I could hear: a few snatches. From the context, it seemed like he was rearranging the village’s more… esoteric defences.

  “Busy?”

  Both he and I jumped at the unfamiliar voice. The darkness in a corner of the room, untouched by the light of the lamps, congealed and solidified into a pair of cloaked figures. They walked over at a leisurely, yet deliberate pace, standing behind the couch facing Kirti. From the look of their hands as they gripped its backrest, I guessed that one was male and the other female.

  Kirti went back to his papers. “I would ask how you got in here, but we’re long past surprises.”

  “Looks like the little lord’s misadventures have been taking a toll on you,” the woman teased, as the two of them effortlessly vaulted over the couch and took a seat.

  “You can seal us in all you want, but the safety of the people is still our responsibility. If those things can’t leave in search of better prey, all the more reason to target us.” He shoved a few of the papers into a binder and snapped it shut before moving on to another pile.

  “Need some help with organising?”

  The woman reached for one of the papers, but he slapped her hand away.

  “These are internal reports. Secret.”

  “After all we have done for you, there are still secrets?” the man asked. He had a light, smooth voice, almost boyish.

  “How about you stop dallying and tell me why you’re here?” Kirti asked, his tone even and emotionless.

  “Oh, trust me, if it was up to us, we’d be out of your hair in a minute, sweetheart!” The woman raised her hands. “Unfortunately, there are orders to follow. The bosses are kinda pissed, you know, after what happened today. Some of them were even claiming you deliberately misled us. That it was all a trap. After what your brother dear did to our Envoy, that’s getting kind of hard to deny.”

  “What did they conclude?”

  “We batted for you, of course,” the man said, lounging comfortably. “Managed to hold off any punitive measures. But it’s not looking good, buddy. Not good at all.”

  “So, you came here to warn me.”

  “No, we came here to cut a deal. On the down low,” The woman whispered conspiratorially. “The Intercessor likes you and the place. Thinks you both have potential. That’s why he’s giving you a chance to resolve this, once and for all. Make things good with the Consortium.”

  Kirti looked up for the first time, then sighed and wrapped up the rest of the papers. “Thanks for your time, but I don’t have the authority to accept that. I have a boss too, and he’s been crystal clear: no further relations with you.”

  “Ah, yes, the kid.” I could almost hear the man grinning under his cowl. “Funny you should bring him up.”

  Kirti raised an eyebrow.

  “I haven’t told you what the deal is. The Intercessor is willing to consider, assuming you’re up for it, a… transfer of power.”

  “A transfer of power,” Kirti repeated.

  “It could be tonight,” the woman assured. “We came prepared. It’ll take five minutes, and no one else gets touched. Your brother’s fast asleep, and the other one—”

  “The dangerous one,” the man interjected.

  “—he’s out right now. He’ll never make it in time.”

  “We’ll make it quick, too.” The man nodded. “Painless. The little lord won’t know what hit him.”

  “And after he’s gone…” The woman made jazz hands in the air and pointed at him. “You’re in charge.”

  “You don’t know that,” Kirti immediately retorted.

  These people probably didn’t know him well enough, but I heard the slight steel creeping into his voice.

  “Come now.” The man laughed. “Yes, I know the succession process is technically a secret, but let’s be honest here. It couldn’t be anything else. The next in line takes the seat of power. It’s obvious.”

  “The Intercessor is willing to act as your political cover. There are groups within the Consortium who do not… approve of such methods, but he is confident he can keep them at bay. And if there are domestic troubles, I’m sure we could arrange your eventual triumph. Weapons, troops, knowledge. Whatever you need to come out on top.” The woman spread her arms. “Blank cheque.”

  “So…” Kirti said, “You come in here, offer to murder the current Thakur for me and prop me up as the new Thakur, potentially involving a civil war with the other prominent factions of the village that will inevitably ravage the place. Then, assuming I win, I will be a puppet ruler dependent entirely on your good graces.”

  “That’s a pessimistic way of looking at it, brother.” The man raised his hands. “We can make it look like an accident. The wards and defences are weak as they are. No one will suspect a thing.”

  I could tell by the look on my uncle’s face that they should have stopped about ten sentences ago.

  “Baba was right about you people,” he whispered under his breath.

  “What?” the woman asked, more as a statement than as a question.

  “I was a fool to not see it sooner,” he continued, loud enough to hear now.

  “Kirti…” the man started.

  “I think you should leave now,” he said simply. “And tell the Intercessor he or his agents are no longer welcome here.”

  “Kirti, be practical,” the woman chided. “We’re doing you a solid here, and I think you should be a little more—”

  “He’s my nephew!” Kirti bellowed, rising from his seat at last. “Do you think me so hungry for power that I will murder my own family?”

  “He’s screwing it all up, you idiot! Can’t you see that?” the woman shouted back.

  “He’s making mistakes! All of us made mistakes! Some were in our control, some were not! All the more reasons he needs support now!”

  “Do you have time for that?” the man asked calmly. “Time to gamble your life, and the lives of everyone else?”

  Kirti grew quiet. The two cloaked figures visibly relaxed.

  But this was not the quietness of agreement. It was the calm before the storm.

  “I promised my Dada that I would take care of his son. It was the last thing I ever said to him.” Kirti let out a long, ragged breath. “I promised my father I would protect his family, even if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

  When he looked up, his eyes were burning with rage.

  “How dare you speak to me of killing him?”

  The two figures were silent for a few seconds.

  “What a shame,” the man finally said.

  “We really liked you, Kirti,” the woman pouted.

  The two slid seamlessly to their feet and made for the door.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Kirti growled.

  “The Intercessor was clear. This has gone on long enough.” The man turned his head slightly, revealing a single eye under his cowl. It was like a hunk of molten metal, glowing orange and red. “We are resolving this tonight. Whether you like it or not.”

  “I can’t let you leave now.”

  “You think you can stop us, darling?” the woman chuckled. Her clothes were slowly getting overrun by a layer of white fuzz.

  Upon closer inspection, I realised they were webs. Sticky, newly woven threads, barely visible until they caught the light.

  “No,” Kirti admitted, sighing. “Which is why you should’ve left before she got here.”

  The two of them moved to speak, then froze. Somehow, without any warning, a figure had materialised in the room, perched precariously on the man’s shoulders.

  It was a woman clad in a heavy red sari, almost like that of a bride. Heavy gold jewellery glittered against the dusky skin of her collarbone. Her face and neck were hidden behind a cumbersome veil studded with small pieces of metal. The sari hugged her lean yet voluptuous figure closely, her fingers and arms covered in gold rings and bangles as they grasped the top of the man’s head. One of her legs hung over his shoulder while the other wrapped around his neck, revealing a slightly muscular bare leg.

  There was only one thing that set her apart from a human. Below her ankles, both of her feet, adorned with anklets and rings, were turned fully around, delicately painted toenails and intricate henna spirals pointing backwards and away from me.

  For what felt like an eternity, time stood perfectly still. Then the woman opened her mouth and unleashed an earth-shattering wail. The flames in the lamps flared and then winked out as the glass exploded, plunging the room into pitch-black darkness. There was a loud bang, and then a shockwave that knocked me off my feet and sent me tumbling to the floor. The smell of sulphur and ozone filled the air. As I struggled to rise, I heard another wail, and then the sickening sound of tearing muscles and cracking bones. Something heavy collapsed to the floor.

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  A woman shouted in alarm and fear. There was a sharp sound, like steel wire flying through the air at high speeds. I knew it well from an industrial accident footage I had watched for a case. A loud screeching and grinding as something collided with it. A sharp twang as it broke, followed by a shriek of pain.

  And the sound of chewing.

  After a few painful seconds, the shrieking abruptly stopped. There was a wet crunch, and then slurping.

  Light slowly returned to the room as Kirti held a match to what remained of one of the lamps. The veiled woman was holding on to his legs, sobbing lightly and hiding her face. Drops of blood dripped onto the floor from what I could only assume was her mouth.

  “There, there.” He gently lifted her to her feet. She clung to his shirt like a child who knew she had done something very wrong.

  The very edges of the light hit the door, where the cloaked figures had been standing just moments before. Now, only spatters of blood and viscera remained in the penumbra of the shadows. Deeper in the darkness, I could make out something bulkier: the outline of bodies, sprawled on the floor. However, some major portions appeared to be missing.

  The woman’s head jerked to one side, and then to the other side. Then, almost like a doll on strings, she turned, sniffing the air. Slowly moving towards me. Kirti frowned, glancing around the room, evidently unable to see what she saw. A low rasping sound escaped her mouth as the woman dropped to all fours, crawling along the ground like a bloodhound.

  Getting steadily closer. My heart skipped a beat. If she found me… would I wake up?

  Would I die?

  I slowly started backing away towards the door, but all too slowly. Her pace quickened, getting surer by the second.

  A soft hand gripped my shoulder.

  “Time to wake up.”

  I gasped at the cold touch, and then I was sitting up in my bed, the hand still on my shoulder. The world outside my bedroom door was mercifully dark and silent now. Unfortunately, the copious amount of sweat was very much real. The dhobi probably wanted to strangle me at this point.

  Lightning crackled outside. Drops of water splattered on the window with enough force to make a loud thud.

  It was raining. Heavily.

  “Are you alright?”

  The feminine voice made me jump again, before I realised that the dream was, indeed, over.

  The pale, beautiful face leaned in a little closer at that, eyes worried and maybe a little teasing.

  “I’m fine. Just… a dream.” I patted her arm reassuringly. Her skin was still cold, but somehow warmer than I remembered.

  It felt strange, how a paranormal entity appearing in my bedroom was so normal now that my only fear was that it would be the wrong variety of paranormal.

  “A dream?” She rose to her feet, absently tying her black hair back with some kind of band. On a second look, it appeared to be made out of something fleshy. “The normal kind, or…”

  “The other kind,” I completed, wiping the sweat off my face with my hand. “What are you doing here?”

  “Thought I’d come by, inspect my handiwork. You were pretty banged up.” She smiled lightly, sitting on my desk and dangling her feet. With a start, I noticed her change of attire: she was wearing a sleeveless top and a pair of shorts that came down to just above her knees. Still completely white, but not exactly a sari.

  “And what is your professional opinion?” I managed to stammer out.

  God, why did a ghost of all things fluster me?

  She tilted her head. “As handsome as ever.”

  “Clothes at the laundry, I presume?” I asked, mostly to avoid responding to that.

  “What, you don’t like them? I was given to understand it’s the latest fashion.” She jumped off the desk and twirled around. “Our physical forms are just representative anyway. I can change back if it’s not working…”

  “No!” I regretted it as soon as I said it. “I mean, if you like it, you can keep it.”

  She smirked. Her clothes flowed and melded like living moonlight, shaping themselves back into the familiar white sari. “Just something I was trying anyway.”

  I sighed. “Look, I never really thanked you. For last time, and all the other times. So, thanks. I don’t know if you have some kind of ulterior motive for it yet, but thanks anyway.”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “Like I said, Thakur. I’m always in your corner.”

  “I thought you said you couldn’t help me anymore.”

  “Well, it’s not like I physically can’t. More like it’s a very bad idea. Last night’s stunt kicked off a bigger shitstorm than you can imagine. By rescuing you, I clearly and publicly made it clear which side I’m on. Which means that everyone who’s picked the opposite side is now my enemy.”

  “Let me guess. You’re in danger?”

  She shrugged, leaning back against the desk. “Your camp is smaller, but it has some heavy hitters. Still, it’s no longer safe for me to move around during the day. I hide out from that thing. Naigamesh helps when he can. Night is a different story, though.” She twirled her fingers, lines of frost appearing in the air. “This is when I’m at my strongest. I fear no one.”

  “Now that you’re, like, officially on my side, will I be seeing you more often?” I asked.

  She raised an eyebrow, but did not answer.

  “I just think I need all the help I can get,” I clarified.

  “Of course you do.” She smiled. “Well, I suppose I can come around every so often.”

  I must not have disguised my expression well enough, because she started laughing again.

  “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

  At this point, it was pointless to argue. “At least you don’t call me ‘little boy’ anymore. That would be awkward.”

  “No. I suppose I don’t.” Her expression grew a little wistful. “You are still young, yes. But a boy? No. No one can walk before Death and remain a child.”

  She was right. As much as I hated having to recall the experience. After what I had seen on the other side, everything here seemed just a little inconsequential by comparison.

  “Now, you didn’t like it or anything, did you?” she teased. “I can start again if you want, darling. Just say the word.”

  I was spared from this conversation by the very timely arrival of a hand against my window. It slammed into the pane so hard that it rattled the thick glass.

  Both the Lady and I were instantly on our feet. I swiped the knife off the table just as the hand slammed into the glass again.

  “Who is it?” I whispered.

  “Not who. What.” The Lady tiptoed over to the window, trying to peep over the edge, though I suspected it was more for show. “Something seems off.”

  “Let me in, young man.” A flat voice, apparently belonging to a middle-aged man, pierced through the pattering of the rain.

  “Spiral.” My stomach sank. “How did it get up here?”

  “You need to let me in,” it said, again in the same voice. “Let me in. Let me in. Let me in. Please. Important. Very important. Let me in. Open the window. The window. Open it.”

  “Wait.” The Lady frowned.

  I nodded. “How is it speaking more than one phrase? Have you ever seen one do that?”

  “No.”

  The hand slammed against the glass again. This time, there was a coughing and retching sound, strangely warbled, as if it was coming through a wind tunnel.

  I made a decision.

  “Open the window.”

  “Are you sure, darling?” She looked back at me.

  “I’m sure the two of us can stop it if something goes wrong.” Even as I said them, I knew the words were a half-truth at best. This Spiral was behaving completely differently from any we had seen before. There was no telling what it could do.

  She nodded and moved to unlatch the window, choosing to accept my bluff. The hand scrabbled for the edge and slid it out of the way gently, if a little assertively. The distinctive mask-like face of a Spiral appeared as it slid into the room, almost crawling on its belly, and flopped to the floor. Specks of rain flew in after it. Moments later, a bright flash of lightning illuminated the room in an electric-blue glaze.

  The Lady shut the window behind the creature and blew on the glass, sealing it shut with a tight opaque seal of ice. The Spiral rolled onto its back and began to convulse. Its clothing shifted and then tore, as roots wormed their way out and over the floor, thickening rapidly. The Spiral’s eyes sank and then popped to reveal newborn shoots and leaves. Green, newborn vines wrapped around its limbs, sipping the nectar of life with piercing roots. Then, the middle of its forehead slit open along a hidden seam, like a purse. A single stem grew straight up, ramrod straight, splitting into two rows of delicate, impeccably shaped leaves. Then, at the very top, it budded.

  And the bud grew, and bloomed. Into a large red flower, with intricately geometric petals and long, luscious stamens. It turned to face me, opening ever wider.

  A bright, stabbing light hit my eyes. My head jolted and spun, as if someone had hit me from behind with a steel rod. Dimly, I felt myself sinking to my knees.

  A voice spoke, but not in my ears or even my mind. It spoke in my soul. Ancient like magma churning deep underground. Powerful like a million blazing stars. Cavernous and cold, like the void of space itself.

  “A drop of water to a thirsting herb,

  A hand of help to a drowning man,

  A morsel of bread to a cobwebbed shrine,

  A drink of nectar in a burning drought.

  Hark, my blossom, my eye and my hand,

  That grows in your land by my demand,

  Sevenfold-petalled in promise divine,

  sevenfold-rooted in oaths that bind.

  My gaze now turns to barren land,

  Reaches through rot to cradle in sand,

  A seed of life, its power ordained:

  Strength unmatched, though yet unclaimed.

  When the blood of gods curdles and blooms,

  When winds call forth the song of doom,

  When the world of dust crumbles away,

  When time commands my debt repaid,

  Find me then, in sunless day.

  Bear to me your darkest shame:

  This pact we make on moon-hid night

  That bears me fruit when the time is right.

  Join hand to wood, and we are bound,

  Or keep your will, and stand your ground.

  But heed me well, O seedling frail,

  Without my aid, you are doomed to fail.”

  “What?” I managed, hopefully with my mind rather than my mouth.

  The voice did not answer or speak further. A moment later, the pressure lifted. My mind cleared, and I felt the Lady’s hand on my arm.

  “I’m fine,” I said before she asked, hauling myself up.

  Evidently, she had not heard any of that.

  The flower turned to me, opening even wider than I thought possible. In fact, it looked more like a large, red mouth now, its stamens curling like teeth. Between them, from its dark, unfathomable depths, a thin needle emerged. It was thin, almost impossible to see except for when it caught the light from the thunderstorm raging outside.

  “What is that thing?” The Lady whispered, but I ignored her.

  Though the voice had been as cryptic as humanly (or inhumanly) possible, I somehow knew what it was asking me to do. What I had to do.

  It was asking me to seal a pact in blood. And, judging from the fact that a petal shrivelled and fell off, I did not have forever to make a decision.

  In retrospect, I should probably have woken up my uncles. I should probably have told the Lady what was going on and asked for her advice. I should have remembered all the warnings from the Ferryman about words and promises. Right now, I feel tempted to chalk it up to the fact that I was sleepy and tired.

  But that’s not true. I did what I did because, though I was afraid to admit it, I somehow knew the voice wasn’t lying. It was foreboding, terrifying, and cryptic, yes. The part about a debt to be repaid especially felt like a bad idea.

  But somehow, in my bones, I knew it was telling the truth.

  It was not in its nature to lie. It had never felt the need to.

  I had never been surer of anything in my life. I required its help.

  So, I approached the flower and offered it my finger. Like a mosquito, it stabbed the needle into my skin. Not deep enough to cause any real pain, but enough to draw a single drop of blood. It splashed onto the sprawling roots below. For a brief moment, the flower seems to glow brighter. Then, it wilted and died, its petals crumbling to dust even as they fell. The stem and roots retreated like a nest of worms into the Spiral’s body. It let out a ragged moan that transitioned into a coughing fit. A smaller red flower sprouted from the fresh hole in its forehead as it staggered to its feet, breathing heavily. Its mask-like face now appeared more fleshy and real, moving and twitching ever so slightly.

  “Late is the hour at which I darken your doorstep, lord.”

  It spoke in a deep, rich voice, nothing like the flat tone before.

  I could not see the Lady out of the corner of my eye, but I guessed she had the same dumbstruck expression I did.

  “My name is Prime. I speak for my people, though what power has granted me your speech and cast off, even temporarily, the will of my masters, I cannot say.” He bowed a little. Stiffly, evidently unused to the motion.

  I gathered what little of my wits I could from where they had been scattered across the room by the experience of the last fifteen minutes. “Why are you here… Prime?”

  “The Consortium has abandoned us. We do not wish to be bound to its yoke any longer.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “We are experiments, lord. Nothing more. Like unwanted strays, we are built and kicked to the curb. Like obedient clockwork toys, we do what is asked. Without complaint. Yet now, when we are in more danger than ever before, what do they do? They do not care to take us with them. They do not even care to give us the mercy of death. They leave us here. They lock the doors and leave. We persist, to be slaughtered and eaten by that… thing, cannibalised for strength as it hunts you and yours. We do not wish to live like this. No longer.”

  “I see.” I glanced at the Lady. She only shrugged. “And what do you want of me?”

  “They have abandoned their hounds, but their leash is still around our necks. You will help us cast it off. You must.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “We will find out. But you must strike the blow. When the time is right, we will find you.”

  “Even if you can do it, you tried to kill me, Prime.” I crossed my arms. “Why should I help you?”

  “Do you blame the storm for carrying away leaves, or the river for depositing silt when it curves? It was in our nature to hunt, and we hunted.” Though Prime’s was still not as expressive as it was supposed to be, I could feel the exasperation. “Now, we seek to change our nature. Is that not to your benefit?”

  “How?”

  “Our goals are aligned. We desire nothing but dignity and life. You desire all the aid you can get in your war against your archenemy. Your ordinary weapons and barriers are now useless. You seek new sources of strength. Sources which do not rely on your flickering power. Therefore, if the terms are right… My people would not mind a new, kinder master.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Are you proposing…?”

  Slowly, like it caused him great difficulty, Prime dropped to a knee. “Free us from the Consortium, and we are yours to command… Thakur.”

  I opened my mouth and closed it again, unsure of what to say.

  Prime shuddered. “Hurry, lord. Give me an answer. Their eyes turn once more upon us.”

  I glanced at the Lady. She hesitated, then nodded.

  Prime shuddered again, this time almost falling over from the jolt. He raised his hands towards me. “Hurry!”

  Unsure of whether I would live to regret this, I clasped his hands in my own. “In the name of my family, I swear I will free you, Prime. In return, you will serve me.”

  “The bond is made.” Prime shuddered again, though I could not tell if it was from pain or relief this time. “I will need time to gather my strength again. For now… please stop me.”

  “Stop you?” I blinked.

  “Let me in,” Prime said in a flat voice, and pulled me in, face collapsing into a spiral.

  I wrenched my hand from his grasp, pulling out the knife. But before I could stab him, the Lady lunged forward and tapped him on the shoulder. A thick shell of ice closed around him in the blink of an eye, freezing him in a half-standing, half-kneeling posture.

  The flower on his forehead began to grow, cracking the ice as it crawled its way out and turned straight to me. Though it did not have a face, its expression was clear.

  We will meet again.

  Then, the Spiral’s body shrivelled and crumbled as the flower’s roots began to absorb him. Within a few seconds, Prime had disappeared entirely. The flower gracefully broke apart, releasing a single seed that sprouted wafer-thin wings and leisurely floated out of the window, phasing straight through the ice and the glass and into the storm outside.

  The Lady and I looked at each other and rushed to the window, the ice receding at our touch as we tried to peer into the stormy darkness. But the seed had already disappeared.

  “What the hell?” she finally said.

  Despite the circumstances, it was gratifying to know that, for once, someone else was as confused as I was.

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