Svetavastra felt a searing pain in his head. He felt it being pierced with a thousand fine needles. He focused on the sensation of the pain to gain control. He observed it with his mind's eye. Slowly, he could disassociate himself from the physical pain. He had regained his access to the spiritual powers. He could see now with his mind's eye. He had fallen from the realm of illusions, where he was trapped in the rupture of time of space into an ancestral memory. He could see with his mind's eye that he was in a forest and that it was afternoon time. He felt the pull of the dark energy in the memory.

This must be it, Svetavastra thought to himself. This must be the source of the ancestral bloodlust.

He moved around the memory to get accustomed to the place and found a man meditating beneath a huge tree. The canopy sheltered him from the sun but light sifted through from the gaps and the soft shadows of the leaves played on his marred but stoic face. His body was also scarred. Some wounds were fresh. A wooden mask lay beside him on the ground. This man was a yaksha, Svetavastra could sense his yaksha powers. He could also sense an intense emotion emanating from him and a flicker of dark energy twirling around him unseen to the mortal eye.

He is channelling such strong emotions of rage and vengeance, Svetavastra thought.

He sat down to observe him and continued to do so till late evening when the sun had set and darkness soon filled the forest. To maintain such intense emotion beneath the surface without diluting them in any way was a tremendous feat.

No wonder the bloodlust spilled over into future generations, Svetavastra thought.

The yaksha opened his eyes and put on his wooden mask covering his scars and walked further into the forest. Svetavastra followed behind him. They soon reached a small settlement with a few huts and a campfire being set up in the middle. A young boy was playing around under the supervision of an old man. As soon as the boy spotted the man coming from the thicket to the settlement, he ran towards the masked man and jumped into his arms.

"Father!" he said excitedly, happy to see him at last. "I've practiced all week the moves you taught me!"

"Maruta," the yaksha said, with traces of fondness in his voice. "I will test you tomorrow then."

"Yes, father!" the boy nodded enthusiastically.

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"Your Highness," the old man said bowing to the yaksha.

The yaksha put his son down and beckoned him to play. He sat down on a wooden log by the freshly lit campfire. The old man stood by the yaksha, his long gray hair glistening in the golden hue of the campfire.

"I have performed the divination as you requested, Your Highness," the old man said.

The yaksha waited for the priest to continue.

"It would take another four generations for an heir to be born under the same star as you," he said.

"Are you certain he or she can unlock the yaksha powers on their own?" the yaksha asked the priest.

"It's possible but I cannot give you full assurance," said the priest. "It's a matter of probability than certainty."

"Hmm," said the yaksha thinking about it. "How can I increase the probability then?"

"There...is a way," said the priest with some hesitation.

"Speak without fear," said the yaksha.

The priest still hesitated for a while. The yaksha waited patiently.

"If you can bring forth a bone needle from your body and use your yaksha blood to carve a tattoo into your son," said the priest. "You can transfer your core memories and latent yaksha powers to them."

"What's the caveat?" asked the yaksha.

"The pain of course is extremely excruciating," said the priest. "But the main issue is, you will turn to dust once you do so since your yaksha core will be transferred and you will be devoid of the yaksha root."

"It's....," the priest hesitated again,"...suicide."

The yaksha stayed silent sensing there was more.

"Each generation for four generations down must do the same for the yaksha core to be potent enough to regain powers," said the priest.

"Then it's possible to regain the yaksha mani?" asked the yaksha.

"Yes," said the priest.

The yaksha slapped his hands on his knees before getting up as if to signal his decision.

"It's decided then," he said to the priest.

"I urge you to give this proper thought," said the priest.

"I will," said the yaksha before leaving to play with his son.

Svetavastra observed this as a spectator, he was of course seeing a memory, and he could neither intervene nor participate in any way.

The yaksha powers are curtailed? Svetavastra thought. That's interesting. Could that be a reason for the bloodlust?

Svetavastra needed to access more memories to make any concrete assumptions. But he pieced together how none of the yakshas that followed this yaksha had shown the yaksha powers in their life except when they passed on the tattoo to the next generation. They all lived as humans, more specifically as feared bandit leaders. They all wore wooden masks as well. It was the mark of the Kapala Army. Originally, Svetavastra had assumed that they wore masks to hide their faces from getting recognized by the Dayita officials. But now, he was having second thoughts. Could there be another reason?

He came out of the ancestral memory and floated in the tunnel of time and space and looked at the ancestral bubbles filled with the memory of this yaksha surrounding him. All of them had traces of dark energy. His task was staring into his face, purifying all the ancestral memories and getting rid of the dark energy.

I have to give this proper thought as well, Svetavastra told himself.