Aman then flapped his wings and distanced himself from the bees as fast as he could.

The Himalayan vulture now hovered a long way directly above the branch. As soon as he was ready, Aman folded and tucked his wings close to his body until he was one large ball of mass suspended in the air. The vulture fell with increasing speed and eventually crashed upon the branch. The branch wobbled oddly, and then, like a brittle piece of chalk, snapped. But the top half, with all the hives, did not separate. Instead, it hung limply by a few fibres.

All of a sudden, the bees scattered; some made straight for the bird that was Aman. The vulture desperately warded them off mid-air, moving up and down, trying to dodge as many, but the deadly insects stung it repeatedly. They injected their venom through the creature’s neck, abdomen and even tail. Aman screamed and writhed in agony, and the bird let out a screech that reached the Souls who were watching from far above.

For the first time, Aman’s Atmayog connection felt a little too tightly secured. He remembered what Idhika had told him about the bee stings but tried not to think about it.

Somewhere in this mayhem, the last fibres of the branch undid themselves and the top half with all the beehives fell. It sank for a long time towards the canyon below and eventually descended into the cushion of a leafy foliage around the river that flowed through the forest.

The venom of the bees spread through the vulture’s veins, and Aman felt his strength wane. He dove, beak first, towards the branch and found it perched comfortably between tree leaves near the river. Bees around the hives were now few in number.

Using the last of his power, he pulled the branch with his talons and just about managed to carry it to the top, where the Souls stood. A few metres away from his meditating body, Aman let go of the branch, moments before the vulture hit the ground awkwardly.

Aman drew his final breath. Although Idhika had told him it wasn’t possible, he put in a last-ditch effort to jump back into his mortal body. But the bee stings he had endured blocked all attempts. He was stuck in the dying frame of the vulture. ‘But in the valley fortified by the one that slithers, for the sake of home, that flower must wither.’

Sure, nature was tenacious, but it also knew how to surrender. The warmth in his body grew. Aman wanted to smile, to feel fully the happiness within him. He saw his mother’s laughter from a time much before his father had left, a memory of a time far, far away. He saw his first sight of the Kalpavriksha. Fayza’s smile and her eyes. And he and Fayza speaking at the Temple of Indra.

From the corner of the vulture’s eye, Aman spotted the Bhuts’ white bodies and heads full of hair circling the sky around him. Before he could avert his gaze, his droopy, pallid face lost colour.