‘Let us not count our ships before they are in harbour,’ Mati advised. ‘Allow him to regain his strength and spirits. Wisdom will no doubt follow.’ Mati dragged the Prince out of the room.

‘By Vayu’s Beard, Mati! The arrow did not puncture his skull. He just needs rest...’ Duryodhan’s voice faded away.

The chamber spun around Karna. He crashed back onto the palette. With an ache in his heart to match the pain in his body, he turned to look at the words inked on his wrist. Abhimaan. Pride and honour. Two things he had just lost.

Masha’s Auguries

Masha lay content and comfortable on a bed of grass. A large butterfly with wings of deepest blue traced with black, alighted on the bare shoulders of her lover. The wings shimmered in the soft sunlight. She watched as the delicate creature unfurled a coiled black tongue to taste the blood oozing from his shoulder. She lifted a lazy hand to shoo off the butterfly, wanting nothing to mar his perfection. The butterfly softly raised itself and landed in Masha’s thick hair, a glistening ornament.

She looked into the eyes of her lover. Obsidian mingled with soft brown, in a hard face. He smiled at her, running a cold finger over the scars on her face. ‘I’m sorry I had to kill you,’ she said.

‘I know.’ His eyes were sad but still kind. There was no bitterness in his voice. ‘I would have brought magic back to the world, you know. But I understand. You did what you had to.’

Masha pulled her body back from his. His entrails had spilled from a hundred gashes and rested on the moss between them. Worms slithered out from him, and began to crawl up Masha’s thighs towards her insides. She tried to scream but could not. She struggled to push him away, but he just kept looking at her.

‘Masha!’

She woke with a shiver and sat up in her bunk, brushing her thighs. She was breathing hard. A wraith stood over her. She gave a yelp before she recognized Matron Limp. ‘You were screaming in your sleep,’ she said icily.

‘Apologies,’ Masha whimpered. ‘I had a nightmare.’

The skeletal face of Matron Limp did not look amused. Her eyes were gleaming stones in dark holes. ‘You think you are the only one who has nightmares?’ She pointed to the sleeping figures around the dormitory. Someone shuddered. Another yelped like a puppy. Someone was muttering pleas while another was making choking sounds, as if she was being strangled. Limp was right. No one really slept well in the House of Oracles.

‘Now what is this?’ Matron Limp pointed to the books lying on Masha’s bed, half hidden under the blanket. ‘You are not allowed to bring back books from the Library.’

Still half-trapped in her nightmare, Masha murmured, ‘Matron, I...I was trying to...’