Karna did not answer, but he did ponder his own death. What if Yama was to come for me now? Had he proved to the Ksharjas that he was a better warrior than they? No. Had he managed to uplift the Resht from the shackles of caste? No. Would people even remember him after he was gone? Not for any good reason. He wished he had performed some glorious act to leave his footprints on the sands of time, to survive the holocaust of memory as a hero. He would have liked to teach that arrogant Arjun a lesson, rescue a village from marauding bandits, save a damsel from a predator, or even conquer a kingdom for his friend. Anything worthy of a bard’s song. Instead, he was accursed. He was accused of murdering a Highmaster; he had slept with the bride-to-be of his closest, nay, only friend. Neither would earn him a place in the annals of history. At least not in the way he wished. Yet here he was again, aiding an Enemy of Mankind.

Karna wondered whether Savitre Lios was here to seduce an earthly woman again. Savitre had told him that immortality for tens of thousands of years had turned the Daevas apathetic to each other, their physical urges lost. Perhaps lost was not the right word…extinguished. Yes. At the pinnacle of evolution, the Daevas had given away pleasure in exchange for power, innervation in exchange for indifference, diversity in exchange for perfection. They had stopped breeding, not resuming even after the Siege of Tyrants, which saw their numbers dwindle to ghastly meagreness. It was why the Daevas lusted for Mortals. They envied Mortals the thrill of the realisation that any moment could be their last. The very fact that they were doomed made Mortals irresistible to the Children of Light.

Karna had often wondered about the offspring of such forbidden relationships. During his half-finished education at the Meru, he had learned much about the malformed, often diseased, Nar Daevaks, the half-breeds. In days of yore, such abominations were ritually drowned in a tub of milk. There was no evidence of such half-breeds in the recent past. But if they did exist, did they feel as out of place in the world as he did? Though no written record existed of the Siege of Tyrants, it was often whispered about in the corridors of Meru; that it was the Nar Daevaks who had forced the Daevas into retreat. It remained a mystery of fable and legend whether the Daevas had been defeated or whether they had turned back for the love they bore their children. But the Nar Daevaks were gone now, exterminated by humans once peace had been established. Probably from fear of the Daevas and their blood. So typical of humans to destroy what saves them.

Savitre spoke again. ‘It has been ten years in your world since I saw you last. You look well. Fallen on fortunate times?’