They could never have hoped to find Prithvi without the acharya.

‘Exactly how are we to trace the eagle without actually climbing to the top of this mountain?’ Aman asked.

Acharya Ashwini looked up at the sky in response, following the flight of sparrows, parakeets and monals as they flew through the wind. He stepped off the track and stomped his feet against a patch of tussock. Once it was flattened, he sat cross-legged on the grass and said, ‘Keep me guarded.’

Acharya Ashwini weighed his body back and lowered his eyelids, and within a few seconds, they were all certain that their acharya was only physically with them, while his spirit soared somewhere high up in the winds.

At that moment, in Atmayog, the acharya was most vulnerable; it was vital to protect his rigid physical body, which was divorced from his conscious mind. Although they had Madhu in the kamandalu for any such emergencies, Aman, Idhika, Fayza and Ujal sat in a circle around their guru. Macchli rolled around in the grass nearby.

Aman wondered how far he was from the bridge and his much-coveted box. He considered if he could go retrieve it himself, but the thought of foraying out into the woods made him shudder.

The longer the Atmayog went on, the optimism grew, for the Souls felt certain their acharya must be on to something. After more time had passed, a flock of sparrows, among them one with Acharya Ashwini’s soul, settled on the bough of the tree to their right. Not long after that, the teacher gasped for air and his chest resumed heaving in a normal rhythm. His students stared at him. He only nodded and stood up with intent, pointing eastward. ‘That’s where she is. Beyond the river.’

‘What? As in, the Varunasmati?’ Idhika asked, notes of panic in her tone.

Acharya Ashwini said, ‘Don’t you see? It is a way to draw us out—we have no option but to cross it.’

Aman, Ujal and Fayza didn’t understand any of this, but they had seen the blood drain from Idhika’s face. The Child of the Valley explained to them the belief in Vanyasa that the unknown land beyond the cursed river not only had rogues and monsters lining the outer banks, but was also a place that depleted the energy of Vanyasis.

But at least they had a destination now. The band resumed its journey, walking faster. Their shadows grew progressively longer, and they soon lost track of time.

‘What did Prithvi do to deserve this?!’ Ujal said in despair.

No one dared meet his eyes. ‘Don’t worry, Ujal,’ the acharya said.

‘Why did it take her? No, I mean it. I’m asking . . . Acharya? What exactly does the valley want from us? Why were we brought here?’

‘Young man, impatience will get you nowhere.’ He was going to say no more but Ujal’s face conveyed that he had lost hope, and the acharya couldn’t bear to see him like that. He didn’t wish to further aggravate a vexed soul. ‘I will tell you now if it alleviates your burden. You see, the Kalpavriksha in the middle of the valley is no ordinary tree. Only under its shade can Atmayog be learnt, which is why others outside the valley are keen on bathing in its blessings and will do anything for it. The tree is also the reason Vanyasa recruits ten Souls every decade. The nine most sincere devotees in the valley find like-minded individuals like you by meditating under the Kalpavriksha. The tenth, of course, is the Child of the Valley.’