Over the past month or so, the sight of the valley and the magic of Atmayog had pulled the rug from under Aman’s feet, making him question everything he believed in. But the kirtimukha magnified his trepidation a thousandfold. He was terrified as the monster continued to study them with his charcoal-black eyes, the axe firm in his hands, which could have swatted them back to Vanyasa. His blood curdled and his brain shut down. He closed his eyes and prayed that at any moment he would wake up in New Delhi with the fan creaking above him and his mother on the mattress beside him.

‘Kirtimukha!’ the creature shouted, his head arching back as he drummed his chest with his left fist.

Ujal was almost at his sister’s side, but just then, the kirtimukha intercepted him. He pounced on Ujal, seized him by his ankle, turned him over and lifted him. Upside down, the boy punched the air with his hands. His bow and quiver fell on the cottage floor.

All hell had broken loose: Idhika positioned herself between the kirtimukha and Ujal, and could only manage to kick the axe away before the kirtimukha pushed her aside. Macchli ran to rescue Ujal, and her mouth latched on to the kirtimukha’s leg, but one swing was all it took for her to go crashing into the ceiling.

Fayza leapt on him, trying to choke him from behind, her body dangling from the ring that circled his throat. The kirtimukha still held Ujal and could only sway his body with force to rid himself of Fayza’s grasp.

‘ARGHHH!’ the fiend grunted, his roar thundering in the hut. He let go of Ujal and turned all his attention to Fayza. Too far from his displaced axe, the monster held her by her neck, looking into her eyes and squeezing her as if she were a ragdoll.

Fayza’s lips started to turn blue, and her body went limp. Her glasses fell off her face. Aman thought of the first day of Gurukul when he sat with her after everyone had laughed at him for failing Adwaita, when later together they helped Idhika after Aarti had disturbed her Atmayog. And he remembered how worried Ujal had been for Prithvi, who looked starved and beaten and, with those thoughts, rage filled him.

Aman’s instincts took over. He gulped down his fear, grabbed the teapot that sat over the fireplace and brought its blazing red bottom with both his hands down hard on to the kirtimukha’s arm. Fayza fell, clutching her throat and coughing. She moved as fast as she could out of his reach. Aman repeatedly struck the beast with the teapot—but all it did was enrage the monster, whose breathing started to grow heavy.

Aman backed off. But the kirtimukha had his eyes on him now. With blanched knuckles, he plodded forward, a few seconds away from crushing Aman’s skull.

‘So this is how it ends,’ Aman murmured to himself. ‘At least I won’t have to face Sanaka if I’m dead.’ He knew there was no point sprinting out of the hut because he could never outrun the beast. But he couldn’t give up so easily. He had to try something.