As the kirtimukha wheeled forward, Aman held his ground. He lay unmoving until the monster was only a couple of inches away and then suddenly jumped and sidestepped him. The kirtimukha barrelled past.

Aman took in the whiff of reeking corpses as the monster ran past him—but the kirtimukha’s flailing arm caught Aman and slashed a cut below his lip with his huge nails. It felt like a thousand knives had stung him.

The kirtimukha turned to face Aman. His shoulders heaved, ready for a second charge, but this time his arms were wide open, not to be dodged.

A line of blood dribbled down Aman’s chin as he frantically searched for Acharya Ashwini, hoping for any words of advice, if not support. Their teacher stood silently to the side, clutching the nock of an arrow. He had drawn Ujal’s bow in his hands. The arrowhead was aimed upwards, while the shaft fell in the middle of his face, and mumbled words escaped his lips as he prayed.

The kirtimukha’s glorious face was now contorted with rage, and he drew closer and closer to Aman, moments away from blowing him out of his hut.

TWISSSHHH!

The arrow whirred, rippling the wind in a brittle clang, and caught the kirtimukha deep in his shoulder blade. The extraordinary strength of the dart penetrated the monster’s flesh and then lifted him into the air, continuing to whizz to the end of its path. The arrow zoomed across and dug into the mud wall right beside the fireplace. The kirtimukha hung in the air, his body pinned to the wall and roaring in pain. Helpless, he tried and failed to snap the thin wooden arrow.

‘We’re wasting precious time. Let’s get out while we still have a chance,’ Acharya Ashwini shouted, adjusting the two kamandalus that hung by his shoulder. Fayza collected her glasses from the floor and followed him.

When Ujal and Idhika tried to help Prithvi up and out of the hut, she told them, ‘Pick that up first.’ She gestured to a parchment on the sill above the fireplace. ‘Saw it earlier; it’s of importance.’

Idhika quickly hurried over to pick up the rectangular piece of animal hide and tucked it away safely under her arm. The three of them exited the hut—Macchli behind them.

Aman lingered. A plan had formed in his mind. And moments before he executed it, he heard an alien voice penetrate his head: ‘Don’t do it, child.’

Aman instantly backed away, startled, but slipped, toppling over a few lighted candles. His plan seemed to come to life by itself: the cotton tapestry that hung on the doorway suddenly transformed into a flurry of sparks, filling the hut with white smoke and fire.

Blood slowly rushed to Aman’s ashen face. He ran out of the hut as the crackling fire and snapping twigs did little to cover the screams of the burning monster. The kirtimukha groaned and howled, and although the air was inherently disquieting, the Souls and their teacher felt relieved at that moment. Standing at the edge of the clearing, silently watching the fire, Prithvi’s face shone golden in the reflection of the burning hut. Ujal walked over and hugged his sister. She did not resist.