Before we embarked on our nocturnal journey, I was told to let my eyes rest, lest I grow weary in the direst of moments. With a soft bed beneath me, sleep found me quickly, granting my sight and mind a momentary respite until I was invited to the world of dreams. In my dream I saw a salad of images and words inscribed in an unfamiliar language. The words were serenaded by a tone that sounded like a chorus of a million voices.

First, I've seen the image of an ash-skinned woman with delicate features holding a chalice of blood. All the while the forementioned diabolical voice sang in singsong chant,

Yavanula maraṇa ghosha ni sangitam

I felt the glare of a man, tall as a tree, fair as marble, old as the gold in the god emperor's crown, standing imperiously on a pile of bones.

Jeevdhata kannīllu ni amrutam

I felt the pain of millions of souls dying at the hands of red-skinned asuras with eyes lacking even a glimmer of liberty.

Pavitrula emukalu nee simhasanam

I saw a teary eyed woman with dusk hair and a golden complexion, draped in gold and silk, riding a white lion.

Devuni kanniru chhochi ni kannula anandam

I saw myself standing on a mound of copious corpses, half-naked and enraged, holding a red Divyalohini sword in one hand, and samira's head in the other.

Devara, andhakaara kumara

Nee Krodam sarva strusti vinaashanam

With a violent jolt, my eyes snapped open, and I sat up, letting out a child-like scream. My heart raced, thudding against my chest like a frothing beast desperate to escape. I looked around the room and felt at ease when I saw the familiar walls. With this newfound pocket of clarity, I sighed deeply and used the bedsheet to wipe away my sweat. Then I stared at nothing for a few minutes and then lay down on my bed to stare at the artless ceiling, thinking about that horrific dream. The sight of samira's severed head held by my hand upset me deeply.

Devara, andhakaara kumara

Nee Krodam sarva strusti vinaasham

What could those words mean? Why was I standing on a pile of bones? And who was the pale man glaring at me with such malice? My introspection was interrupted by a knock on the door, but it wasn't my door. From the street, I heard a man's voice loudly demanding that the door be opened. Peering out the window, I saw three soldiers with steel talwars and a lone rifleman standing at the doorstep

A fretful feeling descended like a black midge upon the hedges of my mind, stealing away the fleeting notion of momentary peace. Fearing that I might get caught, I slipped away from the window and walked silently to my sister's bed. I shook her awake and placed my hand over her mouth to prevent her from making a sound.

"City Guard," I whispered. Her visage, a reflection of my own, paled at the realization. The slow creaking of the door and the sound of footsteps triggered within us a universal sentiment, a factor that drives humanity to both greatness and downfall: fear. However, what I feared had not come to pass.

Samira stepped in, and my demeanor did not reflect on her face. She shone with a temperate light that flickered for only a moment.

"I want you two to hide in the cellar and stay there until I return and find you myself."

I wasted no time, grabbing my sister's hand I ran to the hatch leading to the cellar. Samira followed us and covered the hatch with a carpet once we got in.

I stayed in the room, and within a few minutes, I grew anxious and paced from one corner of the room to the other. Fear gripped me and fed a notion that something foul had befallen my master. It weakened my rationale, and in its place, stupidity took over, urging me to go up and take a discreet look. But I had promised not to be careless because my sister needed me, and that simple axiom made my feelings for my master feel like impediments.

"Indra," Devika spoke up hesitantly.

"Yes?" I turned around and noticed her averting her eyes from me. I knelt before her and held her hand. "What is it?" I asked gently. The look she gave me was something I could never forget. It was the fear of the fact of time—a detrimental force that feeds on the soul like a glutton, a scar-giver whose harm is both seen and unseen; in other words, it is what we call death. I saw it dancing palpably in her eyes, which quivered as her lips uttered the words.

"I don't want to die." What can anyone say in that moment that isn't a lie? Is telling my sister that I can always protect her truly wise? Is false bravado a perfect reassurance? No. But sometimes you have to lie to yourself and sell that lie to others. Otherwise, you will only let your soul wither like strands of a fragile feather.

"You won't," I said with conviction, hiding my own fear beneath the mask. "I won't allow it."

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She could have asked "How?" but didn’t. I knew she knew deep down that death had found us dear and familiar, but I guess she wanted to believe we would find a place of safety.

I waited after that lie, waited for my master, who had shown me incredible generosity. Which made her seem unreal, like some sort of heavenly delusion after one too many glasses of wine. Someone of that importance, dealing with a dangerous situation, gave the unsavory internal mutterings in my mind the semblance of a perfect argument. Their deceptive nature urged me to open the door and ascend the ladder to crack the chaos egg just on top of the hatch.

This clashed with my sense of responsibility, and I wonder if, had Samira never opened that door, would I have rushed out and abandoned my sister? Am I truly that sort of selfish creature? In my heart, there is no certainty regarding my own selfishness. Even after being involved in so many terrible deeds, I still can’t determine my place on the spectrum of sin.

Anyhow, dwelling on these ramblings wouldn’t do me any good. Samira had returned and had the audacity to look as unblemished as marble.

"You're back!" I gasped. "You've been gone so long that I thought something must have happened to you," Seeing her safe and sound was a relief. It felt as if I were a clucker saved from the sharp edge of a butcher's knife.

"I've faced men far worse, my dear student." She said, looking at me at first and then at two of us. "I've arranged a safe passage for you two tonight. They will take you to a man called arindam."

Her eyebrows drew together in displeasure when she spoke about him. "He is a scoundrel of the first order, but he is an important a-,"

She bit her lips before completing. "Ally to our organization,'

Noticing the clear trace of distaste in the way she uttered the word "ally," I wondered if there was a history between them or if she had heard a vile rumor or two.

"You don't seem to like him. Is he a man of good character?" Devika asked timidly. Samira looked at her, with a hint of surprise.

"He is useful and loyal; that's all that matters," Samira said and added with a calm, almost maternal demeanor. "He will protect you."

"Now, dear," Samira said, nudging her gently. "We will leave at midnight. Go on now, and get some rest."

Samira placed her hand on my shoulder and looked at me with solemnity. "You stay."

I did not budge and once devika was out of sight, she started.

"What I am about to tell you is of utmost significance. Your sister, being untested, shall not accompany you on the path that lies ahead. Therefore, this exchange shall remain solely between the two of us. Fear not, for she will be safeguarded and provided for—a new identity will be given to her, should she prove herself a valuable asset. As for you, you have demonstrated yourself to be a talented musician, and I am confident that you can also master the art of deception.

She stopped speaking for a moment and looked deep into my eyes, peering into my soul, intending to ensnare me in a daze and transform me into her very own clockwork student. In her eyes, I saw passion akin to that of budding devotees whose miracle-witnessed delusions were so potent that they disregarded skepticism and assumed all the tales were real. Then, when lunacy settled in her eyes, she spoke once more.

"What we are fighting for is a dream, Indra—not the kind people like me dream about that affects only ourselves. No, I am talking about the dream of a great man that washes over every man and woman like a storm. It has the power to pour life into those who can never dare to dream. listen carefully, Indra, the man I serve is the kind of man who has such dream and I am ready to do anything to fulfill it."

I was uncertain about how to interpret her words. I did have an idea that I, with fear and uncertainty, couldn't possibly welcome. After all, how can anyone welcome the dream of sweet maladies? Even if it was for the sake of nobility—for I knew her people helped low-borns to be useful for a cause— the way she spoke of him, the man who started all this, so religiously, prompted me to think it was more than the respect you to a revolutionary; For it was indeed repugnantly holy.

"The way you talk about him, it's like you think of him as a god.." I replied in disbelief.

"I am not a fanatic, Indra! Don't look at me like that," she said reproachfully, her voice carrying an edge of iron that made me flinch. When she noticed my frightened face, guilt softened her features into an icon of kindness.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you," she said, taking my palm and rubbing it as if her anger had burned it. "He is not an ordinary man, and I say this with a clear mind. There are men, Indra, you understand, great men destined to rise above everyone else, capable of committing great atrocities to usher humanity into a new age. The god-king is one such man. A man who can smile in kindness while standing in a river of blood. He shapes the nature of good and evil with the swing of his sword, a true walking catastrophe. I serve a man who will be the responsible for one such catastrophe, one that will change the course of mankind."

Her zeal echoed certainty that paradoxically probably comes from vague signs. When you are in desperation, hanging on to the frayed threads of hope, its strength relies on your blind zeal, prompting you to look for stars in unlikely places. In a way, these delusions of a prophesied savior leading humanity to a new age pour life into the broken. I do not have any right to accuse such people of being ignorant while I knowingly enable their delusions by my many deeds.

"How can anyone simply abandon their humanity and keep moving forward? Doesn't a man who truly wants to be beyond good and evil lead a tragic life? For he is destined to fall eventually?"

Darkness claimed her eyes, froze her face, and urged her to utter the words that would, over time, win me over. "When his soul shatters, he will forsake his humanity and do what he must."

She turned her back to back to me and said. "Take rest; we will leave at midnight. Tonight’s amavasya provides the perfect cover for our journey"