SPIRITS could be seen following all around them. With Vūragam in the open they began to walk side by side with her in a long procession. They all had very many peculiar forms. Some of small feeble bodies that walked and crawled like babes, others taller yet still gentle, and the rest massive as the trees that followed far behind. Yet they all held a light glow as that of the mushrooms, and their presence engendered gentleness that could be felt by the others as they walked beside them.
The forest began to glow gently with a greenish-blue haze and they could hear chimes resounding, bells tolling, and strings being plucked gracefully. The music of the forest swayed into their minds and hearts, and left them feeling refreshed. The girl who had before been much afraid of the others began to soften to their presence. She stayed beside Tūmbṃār and the priestess who took glances at Nakthaḥm as they walked.
The spirits gathered around the girl, and they grabbed on to her hand and pulled her to them. She seemed a little joyful, babbling with them and frolicking along the path. The walk through the enchanted halls was quite pleasant and even Nakthaḥm in his sleep being carried by Vrihkhaḥ seemed to perk his mouth into a soft smile, though more often than not his mouth would tense as he grit his teeth from some terrible pain.
“This forest makes me reminiscent of home,” said Feyūnhaḥ with a melancholy face. “Its properties maybe different, but yet the sensation it invokes within me is soothing and calm. The banyans here give the same soothing effect like the cedars, yet here they feel so much more alive. Truly a wonderful place! It makes me wonder if I should ever see home again.”
“Don’t be saddened so quickly,” said Sanyhaḥmān. “There’s still much for us to see and I for one don’t intend on journeying forever. We’ll see the ends to this soon enough—which should be under twelve years now.”
“’Tis still a long time,” said Iḷēhaḥ. “Even longer than I have stayed upon Ārhmanhaḥ. Alas! if only I could see the Heavens again.”
“And I would very much like to see it too,” said Feyūnhaḥ tapping her shoulder: “with those palaces and gardens that are so bright, the Svyamhaḥ and kine whose milk and liquor flow everywhere and covers all in white, the many tall mountains that have not an end to their heights, and the stars that pierce the endless sky and basks all in radiant light with not a shadow in sight. Ah such poetry; as could not be had by a more drunken goddess!”
“Now, this is something I haven’t heard yet,” said Sanyhaḥmān, laughing. “Is that what the Heavens are really like?”
“Hey! I was quite serious you know,” said the maiden with bravado. “And yes Sanyhaḥmān it is! Greater than you can imagine, with much more. Holy rivers and forests that could very well put even this—no doubt splendid walk and scenery—to shame; of many holy rivers and mountains that could purify a person by just being in its presence; and even the lotus-shaped feet of the high progenitor who looks to all with gentleness. Not a speck of malice present and all beneficent in nature, truly the highest ideal—save for Vukyhaḥ of which I little understand.”
Feyūnhaḥ with a grin said, “And I don’t doubt that.”
The trees shifted their way to the sides and the path widened before them. With the canopy opened, they could see the night sky, tinted in color with many moons present. The branches of the banyans became like pillars at their side and with the accompanying spirits it seemed much like a procession with grand festivities yet to be unveiled.
Water trickled from the roots that they merged into many streams with floating lotuses whose fragrance wafted amid the luscious scenery. And after a while of walking they came to a halt.
A grove was set before them, of where a tall but thin banyan lifted from the center with many plants and bushed surrounding it. The turf was soft and leaves were scattered upon it, but not randomly. They all faced with their tips pointing toward the banyan and seemed to prostrate toward it. And they were all arranged around it in rings of varying size.
Vūragam floated to the tree and she sat upon the ever so slightly raised platform. Then the spirits took their seats upon the leaves and looked to her, intent to hear something from her.
Come children, do not hesitate. Take your seats where you please for there is much to speak.
She shifted her gaze to Tūmbṃār and said:
You are worried about the demon, are you not?
Tūmbṃār suddenly snapped his head her way and shook his head a few times. “I’m sorry, but yes, will he really be alright?”
Indeed he will, though it is unfortunate that you did not trust me when I had called upon you. I know that you heard my voice. Why is it that you released his chains? I would have come to save you all had you given me more time. And perhaps I would not have had to injure him in the process.
“Of what do you mean?” asked Iḷēhaḥ. “Were you watching us during that time? Why could you not have helped sooner?”
Indeed I was, but I did not wish to engage until the time was right for me to intervene. Even Nakthaḥm, as you call him, felt I was there and rightly called for my aid. He would have surely made his call again had you waited but a bit longer, Tūmbṃār. It is surprising to me that you do not understand this, Goddess of Adoration, but I always come when those who truly yearn for me to appear so act upon it; such faith is needed in this age to summon ones like myself for bound am I to the will of the Dehaḥṃār, of whom many of the peoples of Ārhmanhaḥ have surmised to have abandoned them. It would have done him much good to have been protected by me, but it has passed and he shall now have to suffer for a time.
And Tūmbṃār frightened asked, “Suffer from what! What’ll happen to him.”
Her gentle smile released and her face saddened. She looked to the spirits and then to the animals and then to the trees before resting her eyes once more upon the group. She seemed to be reflecting on something but also wished to evade speaking it. But Tūmbṃār would not relieve her, and his eyes gleamed with desperation. He wanted to know what misfortune would come upon him on account of his hastiness; hastiness that he felt was warranted but was still the wrong course of action in the eyes of the Spirit. Yet who could blame the child, who could not bear the suffering let alone death of the friend that he held close like all others? Vūragam broke her silence:
For many days and many nights, of whose length I cannot say, will he have to suffer from the pangs of hunger. From the blood he has lost on account of both the Abomination and of my strike, will his stomach torment him and his body writhe and contort in rejection of his spirit, for it did not provide him with the sustenance it so craved. It shall consume him in mind, body, and soul and he will wail and cry, and attempt his best to slay and consume you, for all level of self-control he had obtained by that point would be dissolved.
Throughout this trial, will he be tested at every front to resist and resist, just like the ascetics of old who were always singlemindedly focused on the object of their meditation while harassed on all fronts by both the Demons of their own minds and those that prowled their abode. Were he in knowledge of That which rests above all, of whom many including the Gods have forgotten, perhaps he could have saved himself. The Gods would have no power of their own to alleviate the curse that they themselves dispensed. Now, he will have to bear this alone and have conviction in his self and in his friends: that they will not let him fall to his cravings as so many like his ilk have before.
Iḷēhaḥ looked to her with suspicion, and asked, “And how is it that you are so sure of this? Do you torture Demons for pleasure to have arrived at such a conclusion? Though if that is the case I shall not judge you for it, for I still hold my displeasure of their ilk!”
“Iḷēhaḥ! Why must you continue to speak like this?” said Feyūnhaḥ with anger. “She is a Spirit of this forest! Why would such a being engage in such detestable activities. Do you also still despise Nakthaḥm; is that why you didn’t act when he suffered?”
“I hold this company of greater import than just one member!” she retorted. “’Tis true I would not have acted as I did with any of you, but Nakthaḥm is a demon and as such we must afford protections against himself for our own preservation. You, Vrihkhaḥ, and Sanyhaḥmān would have erred greatly if he were to be freed with the Abomination’s defeat!” She looked to Tūmbṃār before turning away. If only this boy would have heeded my warning. But no matter; even now I hold suspicion over Nakthaḥm, for if what Vūragam says is true, we may very well have to fell him.
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“No, that can’t be,” said Sanyhaḥmān. “We should be able to wait out the time he suffers! There’s no reason to slay our friend like this.”
Tūmbṃār wished to speak up, but knew he would not be able to address them. But if Iḷēhaḥ chose to harm Nakthaḥm he would put himself between her and him, even if it would lead to a similar unfortunate result, though he hoped it would not be the case. He held hope that Nakthaḥm would come through and now deeply regretted having ever made that oath.
Then the Spirit held her left hand up with the index finger touching the thumb and spoke:
Iḷēhaḥ, I speak the truth, for I too was one of his ilk. I too was once a Yavhaḥṃār.
The argument ceased upon those words and Iḷēhaḥ’s eyes opened wide. And with great anger she came forward to the Spirit and raised the staff to her head. “A demon you say? Begone you Evil Spirit! You who lie of your pretension and association with the Gods, I shall smite you here and now! I will release my powers if I must and show you the wrath of this goddess!”
Feyūnhaḥ and Sanyhaḥmān ran to her and pulled her back.
“Let go of me you fools!” shouted the maiden, trying to pull herself free. “She is no Spirit of this forest, she is a trickster! Demon or not, I shall not let her be! Mocking the Gods as she is; no demon or Spirit could be remade into this form of light, this illusion—let me fell this wretch where she stands!”
“You call us fools, yet look around you!” shouted Feyūnhaḥ who tried to turn Iḷēhaḥ around. “You’ve not only disrespected this Spirit who has saved us but agitated her servants! Are you not a goddess of the Higher Realms? Act as such!”
The spirits around them arose in anger and the ones that stood by the girl took on a more menacing form and scared her away. She ran to Aiṛth and held tight to her robes. The priestess tried to calm her down, but even she became worried.
Encircled by the hostile spirits they slowly backed away toward Vūragam. She smiled and held her left hand up, reassuring the Spirits to have no fear. The Spirits then calmed and prostrated before heading back to their seats on the leaves. The group looked to her and saw that the light of herself burned brilliantly, enough so that they had to avert their eyes.
I am the Spirit of this forest, young maiden! Goddess or not, you must control your impulses. I know not why you hold such hostility to their kind, but I assure you, I live to serve the Gods: I live to serve That One and All who rests within all the hearts of the Ṃārhaḥn. Will you not hear my story before drawing your conclusion?
The light waned and the maiden cast her eyes upon the now gentle Spirit. She herself could feel no trace of malice within the being that sat before her. Holding her temper she sat upon the surface and laid the staff in front. Her face while calm still held an edge of seriousness. Those eyes that shone as blood were locked to the eyes of emerald that reflected upon the red gem dangling from her forehead.
“I shall listen to what you will say. Forgive me. ’Tis true I bear hostility toward the Yavhaḥṃār but even I know now that not all the Demons are of the likeness of evil. ’Tis hard for me to see beyond it, but I shall not belabor you with my own concerns. Accept my apologies, O Spirit of the Forest!” She prostrated to Vūragam, who held to her smile, and the Spirit bent to the maiden, bringing her up.
All is forgiven, Goddess of Adoration! Now, all of you, take your seats beside your companion, for I have much to relate that will no doubt shed light upon the plight of your friend.
They took their seats and Vūragam related her tale:
In the Era of Formation, when the first wars between the Yavhaḥṃār and the other Ṃārhaḥn was but beginning, there rested this forest on the north side of Ārhmanhaḥ. During that time I had a husband by the name of Vūrag who waxed with malice against the ascetics and Zūryashhaḥ that inhabited that forest. With his cohort he had imprisoned and devoured hundreds of them and these Zūryashhaḥ that remained pleaded in supplication to Īrshevhaḥ.
That great God of Destruction whose wrath ever burns toward those harboring evil intent, descended in form when the cries of those great seers reached his ears. With his fearful presence and arsenal of divine weapons he struck fear into the hearts of the Demons and vanquished a number of them.
My husband being the coward he was brought the whole of the forest into the eastern sea to evade the wrath of the God of Destruction. But even his time would soon come, for the calls of the greatest of devotees of Īrshevhaḥ swept past the boundaries of the sea and past the ward my husband had cast. And Īrshevhaḥ knowing then where lie our domain, disguised himself in form as a Pysefyhaḥṃār and chased after my husband for a fortnight before he at last severed his head and brought liberation to those prisoners. Yet when he approached me he saw that I stood ever in prayer toward that divine consort of his, Hrvtihiḥ: She of the Mountain, descending from the greatest of the ranges of Ārhmanhaḥ during that time.
He said to me: ‘Demoness, why is it that you supplicate toward my wife? You alone who stand as different from the rest of your kin, why do you abstain from devouring these great seers who ever meditate past the Highest, when you must surely be suffering from the pangs of hunger as the rest of your kin?’
I prostrated to him, and touched his feet and spoke: ‘For I know greater happiness and bliss rests beyond such mortal attachments. And that even unto death shall such hunger not overcome me, for the devotion I hold toward the Gods and to especially your wife is of the highest merit. Do with me as you would, O Destroyer of Evil, for if I should be felled by you now, I should certainly attain to your abode!’
He lowered his weapon and brought me up and said: ‘Be not hasty to give away your life. Your words are very much agreeable to me, and certainly you should achieve my abode where rests my consort whom you so wish to see. But I shall not have you die now; live your life as great as one of your ilk can, so that I may see with my own eyes how far stretches your devotion. Let us see if you should hold true to your word and enter the Heavenly Realms!’
And he vanished from my presence and I was left alone.
Many of the Demons were spared from his wrath upon his exit, and I did not know what to do with them. They were not like me, still greatly under the influence of the curse and unable to ever quell their cravings. I told them to do as they would for I would not hold them to my ideal. And many they dispersed from that realm, some becoming like monsters devouring the Mānuzhhaḥ they came across and others becoming as great warriors that fought on either side of the conflict. Yet some did indeed stay with me and they took to my devotion ever staying diligent and aware of the things around them.
Many years then passed like this and one by one they succumbed to their hunger unable any longer to hold themselves aright. Each one that descended into madness I felled on that spot. No more did I wish to see them suffer. And it continued like this until I was alone; when naught that remained was but me and the trees that gave nary a word, though at points they would whisper by their leaves.
While they too were of the Ṃārhaḥn and beckoned to my call like little children, still I could see them as no more than the form they had. A growing sorrow rose within me and my devotion toward Hrvtihiḥ began to falter. I could hear the whispers of my dead kin who could find no peace and clung hard to the Midworld so that they would not descend to the hellish realms below. I heard their laments and wails but had no power to help them.
And as more years passed, unable as I was to exit this forest, the hunger that I had controlled for so long with great austerities, arose like a kindled flame. And it gnawed in my body as I could feel my blood boil and my fangs grow and my mind recede into greater darkness.
At a time I floated, then I walked, and then I crawled, until at last I was now wriggling like a worm that was drying in the hot sun. Days and nights passed in this state, with my object of meditation having slowly shifted toward wanton bloodlust.
It was not long before a straggler on the side of the Mānuzhhaḥ had ventured into the forest and I came to know of it. As if propelled by instinct I arose on my feet and took a horrid form. My body desired the flesh of that man so dearly. I ran to where he was and he beholding me cowered in fear. Though frightened it seemed he did not yet know made the Yavhaḥṃār so truly frightening. And I hypnotized him as he gazed into my eyes, and like I snake I coiled around my prey waiting to devour him.
The moment came when I was to strike and at last be rid of this tortuous suffering. But I heard a voice, not unlike as I called to you, Tūmbṃār. And that voice directed my attention toward the sky. My grip over the man loosened and he fled away. Having come to my senses I looked to my body and around and began to wail: dearly seeking deliverance. But it would not come just like that.
I took myself to lay near the banyan in my now desolate state and affixed my mind upon the divine consort. Yet now it was different for I sought not just for the blessings of the consort but surrendered unto her. And as fate should have it, I had achieved the liberation I sought. I perished under this great banyan, where my body of old has now withered away and both Īrshevhaḥ and Hrvtihiḥ who were pleased with my devotion and resolve granted me this newfound body.
I returned to the forest—that under their blessings was given the name of Vūragārhteka: the forest of Vūragam—and brought forth the wayward spirits of my fallen kin and gave unto them those bodies that glow like the illuminated mushrooms. All the spirits that reside here are of my kin and I see them as my children just like the many trees here.
A temple was then erected for Īrshevhaḥ and Hrvtihiḥ upon my order by the spirits, where it now rests north of this forest.
And when this was done, the Vimādhaḥṃār came to me and said: ‘We desire more progeny upon this Earth such that they may help their brothers and sisters keep the Demons at bay. O Celestial birthed into this world by the God of Destruction, will you do as we ask?’
And I did as they asked.
From the aurochs and deer that roamed this forest, I elevated their minds and fashioned for them new bodies by way of the Celestial Tavtirṣhṭr. Many now hold the form I have of varying degrees in line with their prior natures. And they having been birthed with the help of that Celestial Tavtirṣhṭr, were from that moment forth as close kin to that of the Autirsāh. And when these children of mine had then mixed with the Mānuzhhaḥ, I gave their people the name Mrigūhvha for they were as like the Bulls and Deers and Kine that Roam in the Highest Realms.
This is all that I have to relate of myself.
Now regarding Nakthaḥm.