‘Is this all a joke to you, Eka?’ Aarti had emerged with the rest of the Souls.

‘It was p-probably Aman’s idea,’ Payal said. ‘More foolish of the two. Wandering by themselves in the dark—where’s Fayza?!’

That was the first time Aman realized the gravity of his actions. Despite trying to safeguard everyone, his decisions seemed to only complicate the situation. He didn’t know what to say. It felt as if his spine had snapped in two. He slumped. Tears started to roll down his weary, blackened cheeks like rain on a dusty pane. ‘I’ve lost her,’ he whispered.

‘What happened? Are the kirtimukhas back?’ Jagrav said, drawing closer to the pack. Everyone assumed the worst.

Savitri put her arm on Aman’s shoulder. ‘What happened to her?’

Instead of responding, Aman fell on all fours. He let out a high-pitched wail, accompanied by the whirring of the mucus in his nose and throat. ‘I’ve lost her forever . . .’

Everyone knew better than to press him for answers at that moment. They let him be, occasionally comforting him and trying to calm him down.

‘Despite tired legs, we cannot afford even a brief halt,’ Aarti said after some time. ‘I know we have lost many brothers and sisters in the past few days, but the problems that beset us can only be solved if we succeed in the Mahayatra. We can rest after we have the Madhu . . . Will you lead us there, Aman? To the Himalayan bees?’

Aman scooped up some fresh snow and wiped the taste of salt and mud from his lips. Only then did he pick himself up.

Following the Eka’s instructions, they walked down the mountain at a quick pace. Within an hour of their departure, the sun peeked over the fence of hills around them. The air was crisp and cold. They crossed a thin bridge of ice, holding hands and walking shore to shore in a single file. Aman should have been leading the entourage, but instead he brought up the rear.

When Idhika slowed down and fell into stride with Aman, he told her about his flight with Indra. It was difficult for her to digest that the gods wanted the Mahayatra to fail and that they were at war with Sanaka and the Preservers, but she took his word for it.

‘Aman,’ Idhika said, ‘you know that you won’t be able to survive the final Atmayog, right? There’s no way around this one. The flower will wither. Think twice, for now the king of the gods has given you a way out.’

As much as he was relieved to hear her say that, Aman had already weighed the options and knew that his decision was one that had to be taken.

When he refused to budge, Idhika reluctantly told him, as Aranyani had told her, the sequence of tasks he needed to execute to gather Madhu and the exact reason why his end was unavoidable.

‘I never found out what happened to him,’ Aman said, thinking about his father. ‘And like him, I’m going to leave this world . . . You know something, Idhika. I didn’t have any friends in the plains. Kept to myself. And back then, the idea that my future could somehow be defined by my past actions, the idea of karma, was one I would never subscribe to. I didn’t believe in any of it. But then, defying all odds, I was brought to the valley, a place where Vedicism is alive. Obviously, I questioned everything I believed in . . . But all for what? Only to learn that the valley is also a cruel place? To learn that karma is a farce, a lie to whip us into submission, into collective mediocrity? Or as Indra said, “to control us”? Mine will be no “honourable” death, Idhika. Think about it: Exactly what sins am I paying for? Truly, the worst things in life are reserved for those who are good. In reality, there are no consequences for your actions. We are animals. Trivial in the eternity of time. With survival of the fittest the only law.’