Svetavastra returned to her white robes. She bid farewell to Manu, her fingers lingering in the air as if to hold onto the warmth of his presence. She slowly trekked her way back to the top along the waterfall. As she climbed, the cool mist from the waterfall clung to her robes, tiny droplets shimmering like diamonds in the dimming light of the setting sun. Reaching the top, she paused, breathing deeply, the air crisp and alive with the scent of wet earth and foliage. The sun was setting, casting a warm, diffuse light over the landscape.
From her vantage point, Svetavastra could see Manu and her cosmic counterpart as they exchanged farewells with Acharya Parama and Anasuya. Aryaman and his aide, mounted on horses, were making their way out of the village, their silhouettes stark against the pinkish-golden sky.
She lowered herself to the ground, the grass was cool and damp beneath her. She wanted to savour the stillness and peace of this moment, just by herself, away from the worries of the world for a brief moment. So many things have happened to her in the past few weeks and the outburst the cosmic form had about reacting to things kept ringing repeatedly in her ears.
“It is true,” she said to herself. “Of late, it seems I only manage to react to whatever is happening. It feels so chaotic and out of control. I have been making reckless decisions one after the other. Somehow I feel this is not my usual state of being.”
She passed her hand over the grass beside her, trying to ground herself to her surroundings.
“What is my usual state of being?” she asked herself out loud, the words hanging in the air, unanswered. She closed her eyes as if to find the answers in her mind.
Images flickered in her mind, disjointed and fleeting. She saw herself on ancient battlefields, the clang of divine weapons and the roars of rakshasas echoing in her ears. She felt the weight of her divine sword, the rush of adrenaline as she battled her way across the army of the netherworld. Yet, amidst these violent flashes, there were moments of calm. She saw herself in deep meditation, her face serene and untroubled, bathed in a soft, divine light.
She opened her eyes, the vivid images fading into the evening light. The sun was almost set, casting long shadows and a gentle, golden hue over everything.
“Who was I?” Svetavastra murmured, her voice barely louder than the whispering wind. Her past was a tangle of vague flashes, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand. Once, she felt she had been powerful, a god whose very presence commanded the elements. Now, she felt like a shadow of that being, dependent on borrowed strength and the fleeting grace of the local deity's cosmic powers.
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“Does it matter now?” She found herself countering. “What matters is ridding the world of those evil infestations.” She brought forth the pretabandana, the preta capturing urn from her inner self. The urn floated in her palm with a soft glow. Her eyes, deep and reflective, caught the light from the glow.
She felt she had only been focused on attacking the glaring symptoms and had no clue about the root cause of it all. Without eliminating the underlying cause of it, no matter how many rogue pretas she captured, there would be hundreds and thousands more. She couldn’t keep fighting this way, chasing shadows while the real enemy remained hidden. The darkness would keep seeping back, unbidden and unending.
“If only my spiritual powers could renew quickly,” she said. “Every time, there’s a fight with the undead, they are depleted to dangerous levels.”
She remembered her last fight with the rogue pretas, they had come out of the ley line intersection. She could almost feel the chill of the ley line intersection again, the air crackling with an unnatural energy that made her skin prickle. She remembered the strain in her muscles, the cold sweat that trickled down her spine as she summoned the last reserves of her spiritual energy. The familiar warmth of her powers spread through her, a comforting but fleeting presence before she lost consciousness and fell into the stream.
Ley lines could be corrupted, she knew that already. If the rogue pretas emerged at the intersections, she could actively search for them.
“Aryaman’s celestial sword!” she blurted with a start. “It can keep the rogue pretas at bay! If we can subdue the undead without using my spiritual powers and cleanse corrupted ley intersections, I can renew my spiritual powers more effectively! The prince would also learn how to channel his latent cosmic powers.”
A smile spread across her face, she felt light as if a heavy weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She waved her hand and the pretabandana disappeared into her. Svetavastra rose from the ground and she brushed her hands clean. A new resolve had taken root in her. She would no longer be a mere puppet of circumstance, reacting to each crisis as it came. The recent uncanny events had provided her with enough clues to start forming conjectures. She felt the threads of these mysteries in her mind, and she was determined to follow them, to unravel the deeper truths hidden in the darkness.
Her eyes hardened with determination as she turned towards the forest. She would take the initiative, hunt the undead, and track their movements. No more passive defences; she would go on the offensive. The thought filled her with a sense of purpose she hadn’t felt in weeks.
The tree where the preta was trapped came into view. The spiritual barrier glowed faintly, a shimmering web of light that held the creature captive. The preta's translucent form writhed within. Svetavastra approached, her footsteps soundless on the forest floor. The preta turned its gaze towards her.
“No-god God!” it said with excitement. “Finally!”