THE group had packed much food and provisions for their long journey ahead. Athruyam had instructed them to take the eastern pass, taking them about a month to reach Viprūtaram. Tūmbṃār though still sad, held a determined conviction to find Iḷēhaḥ. Feyūnhaḥ reassured him by saying, “Don’t worry Tūmbṃār, we shall surely find the lost maiden.”

The boy, princess, demon, and the wolf made their way to the eastern gate. A thick fog was about, and little was visible. Not a sight of a person came into view as if they had all vanished. This concerned Tūmbṃār for he could still feel their presence about but the other three did not give notice to it. At the gate, they waited for the lord, who came only a while later. Approaching the princess, he held to her palms, closing them. He whispered something in her ear, and her face became serious, and she gave a solemn but relenting nod. He then embraced her, much to her surprise, and she became flustered. The boy, demon, and wolf laughed as the princess sighed.

When Athruyam had released his embrace, he said, “Be safe my friends! Tūmbṃār, keep what I have said close to heart, for while it may not be of concern now or even during your journey, surely after it is over, it is something you should reflect on.”

Tūmbṃār once more wished to reassure him and say he was sorry, but the words would not come out of his mouth. Athruyam shook his head with a smile and said, “Gods be with you on your travels. May you indeed find the maiden and may the matter of importance be dealt with swiftly. Make haste to Viprūtaram! Vyāythaḥ’s speed to you all.”

The boy and princess saluted him, the wolf howled, and the demon bowed with a gentle smile. And when the three Ṃārhaḥn had made atop the wolf, the people of the city flocked to the gate. Having all appeared out of nowhere. The fog from within the city receded, and a large procession came to them. The Servants of the Gods carried a great Fiyukthi to the group. Music and fanfare were suddenly all about them, and the change in the atmosphere would likely have caught anyone off-guard.

Feyūnhaḥ gave a gentle smile and waved at them. And looking into the crowd, she saw many of the ministers, officials, and aristocrats, and though they did not look at all happy and perhaps even angered, they said, “May the God Zayagñavhaḥ, the Immortal Flame, blaze within you! May good betide you.” She was surprised. She did not think they did this as a matter of custom for they had never done so before. But she also had no expectations of them warming up to her now.

But all the same, she smiled and said, “My gratitude to all of you,” and nodding to her they walked away.

The priests and priestesses then ran to the group and threw flowers and lotus petals all about them while dancing and chanting. The clouds above cleared, and the rays of the sun shined down on them. And a great singular voice among the crowd resounded:

That One and All shall manifest in you!

Their voice echoed through the entire city, and the priests and priestesses gave some short prayers for the group. The high priest, adorned in long white and red robes, then slapped Vrihkhaḥ’s leg. The wolf sped forth, and into the surrounding mist they disappeared. Still able was the group to hear their voices and holler, but unable to see their form. And after a while, even the sounds from the city disappeared.

The fog was indeed thick and the boy could not help but wonder if it was made by the denizens of the city. But hard it was to fathom, for having ridden for much time, it did not seem to abate. There could be few left in Ārhmanhaḥ that could conjure such a thing.

Nakthaḥm remarked, “Such a ways we have traveled, and yet this mist appears to extend infinitely. My princess, would this be something manifested by your people?”

Feyūnhaḥ remained silent.

“Well, no matter, we shall surely reach the end of this soon enough. I must say though, that as soon as your brother told us to be off, we were hit with all the fanfare. I am unsure whether the rest of you noticed, but when the procession came, the lord vanished. I could no more feel his presence. Tell us princess, what is your brother?”

“And why should I tell you?” said Feyūnhaḥ.

Nakthaḥm, smiling, said, “I have no ill intentions princess, it was just something I was curious of, was all. You can choose to remain silent if you so wish, but it would not do us well to be on bad terms with one another. I did not lie when I said I came here to aid; perhaps not you, but certainly those individuals that would be sought after by the maiden.”

“Then perhaps you should have acted in better reason than to assail the Autirsāh and us when we had come to collect the Dvhaḥṣhtro! Why is it you fought so hard, as if to mean to kill us?”

“I apologize, princess; and the same to you, boy and wolf,” he said with a solemn face, hanging his head low, “I should indeed have acted in better reason. But the hold of my nature is strong, and though I am tempered, ever does battle excite me. And that is one thing I have yet to conquer.”

She bit her lips and wanted now to feign ignorance after that apology. Time and time again, she had been told that the Demons were prideful, yet here was one casting it away and almost acting humble. And while he could be lying, this seemed too genuine for her to ignore.

Vrihkhaḥ gave a shout as a response, and Tūmbṃār, with a grin, said, “Apology accepted!” And the demon smiled to them.

The boy was still, however, confused as to what Nakthaḥm meant. Though it was unusual for Athruyam to disappear so suddenly along with the vanishing of his presence, the boy had become normalized to such things seeing what the lord himself was capable of doing.

The princess finally relented, letting go of her anger, and said, “I don’t yet trust you, and in fact still blame you for Iḷēhaḥ’s flight.”

“As you should,” said Nakthaḥm, “and I should hope to make amends at a certain point.”

“But, so long as you remain shackled, I suppose there’s no harm in humoring you,” and the demon laughed at that. “You surely know my brother has lived long. Though we have long lives, or at least longer than the Mānuzhhaḥ, he is a special case. He has lived since the Era of Foundation and for him to have lived for so long inevitably comes with a cost. He exists more or less in an illusory state stuck between the Midworld and the Heavens, but being ever pulled toward the latter. At a certain point, he will vanish, leaving little trace that he was even here. I can’t tell you exactly how this came to be, but there were legends of emissaries visiting the valiant in bygone ages and granting such persons long-lived lives in exchange for their piety toward the Gods. You, Nakthaḥm, should surely know of this.”

“Indeed I do, though I am curious as to which Dehaḥṃār approached him.” He then shifted his gaze to Tūmbṃār. “But my main concern is with this boy. The way he wielded the aether and invoked the higher power was something I had not seen for quite a while. Seeing as he must have learned it from your brother, I wonder where he acquired such power? But I guess I can wait to get an answer.”

“A higher power!” said Feyūnhaḥ. “Athruyam taught you this, Tūmbṃār?”

Tūmbṃār nodded and said, “Yes, I used it to defeat Nakthaḥm, or that’s what I’d like to say. We both know now, he could’ve killed us if he had wanted to. Even shackling his powers with what was left of my own wasn’t enough to stop him. Athruyam was saddened the night before, because of the pain I’d have to go through later in life over something that wasn’t needed, but I don’t see that as much of a problem – at least not right now. In any case, I don’t think I’ll be using this power anytime soon since even my teacher gave me warnings of its use, but he refused to teach me anything related to it. Perhaps this is why.”

He clutched his chest as the pain came once more. The princess remained silent but seemed to wish to speak of it more. Her eyes were cast downward, and she caressed the boy’s head.

The forest and mist thinned as the days passed, and eventually, they came to the edge. Large fields of grass and meadows stretched into the horizon, and Vrihkhaḥ howled to the shining sun. Tūmbṃār jumped down into the grass and tumbled into the fields. He lay on the grass, laughing. They later spent some time resting in the area and eating lunch before continuing onward.

The pain in his chest and hand had vanished within a few weeks of exiting the Cedar Forest, and along their travels, Feyūnhaḥ did her best to teach Tūmbṃār how to control the air element in the same manner as she had taught before. But Tūmbṃār over many attempts could not seem to grasp it and would often flip in the air, much to Nakthaḥm’s amusement.

As they continued on the dirt trail through the fields where the land slowly flattened, Feyūnhaḥ seemed at a loss as to what to do. No amount of focus or attention seemed to help Tūmbṃār in honing his technique. She decided it would be best for him to relax for some time before attempting again.

They did not talk much with each other, often remarking here and there about the weather or the dry smell of the grass and perhaps some animals in the distance. Nakthaḥm would mention little about himself, preferring to keep such details away and Feyūnhaḥ seemed much too tired to speak at all.

Few passersby came their way, no doubt due to Vrihkhaḥ’s presence making it all the more difficult to secure provisions from traveling merchants. The villages they came by also barred entry on account of him, and so the group would often ask Vrihkhaḥ to stay a distance away while Feyūnhaḥ would don a white cloak to hide her ears, and Nakthaḥm would take off his cover and pull up the sleeves of his white shirt and the legs of his black pants.

Word had spread around of strange folk traveling with a monstrous wolf.

“Would you three like to hear a little about the history of Viprūtaram,” said Feyūnhaḥ to their surprise. “We have remained much too silent, and I think it is good if you know a little about the place before we reach it.”

Indeed they had remained silent for the last week, plodding on through the last of the marshlands in their path, fending off attacks from large, perhaps man-eating crocodiles that did not seem all that scared of Vrihkhaḥ and grew more aggressive as the group moved deeper into their territory.

Tūmbṃār was elated over being able to hear another story, and the others, tired from the muck that had built on their legs, welcomed the change in pace, seeing that it could help keep their minds off it and perhaps calm their nerves just a bit before having to face another wave of their ferocious foes. It would not be long before they would once more continue on the grasslands in the last, but vast stretch of land still left toward the lake town.

“The town has existed for quite some time and stood at its height in the Era of Foundation when it was still a city. At that time, it was known by another name, Utanjhanam: for no lake existed then, and it rested on a cliff overlooking the plains below.

“But as the ages passed, many left that domain to erect kingdoms elsewhere. And by the time the Demons had left to the Lower Realms and all the kingdoms had been united, the rulers and warriors had grown lax in their rule.

“And it wasn’t long after that they, like in the early years of Sītṛa the great King of the Era of Foundation, should fall to their wantonness and exhibit cruelty greater than any that had been wrought before. A great level of injustice was cast on all in Ārhmanhaḥ in that time, and one could say they were wholly worse than the Demons.

“They took the system set in place to govern the Ṃārhaḥn’s occupations and twisted it such that none could move from the jobs they had taken. And with the Servants of the Gods held in high position alongside those wretched kings, all manners of misdeeds and travesties were brought about, and for a time, none were powerful enough to stop it. It was from here that the aristocracy was birthed, its hold remaining unfettered since.

“But as stories like these go, a warrior rose to power, one you surely know. Levāñyhaḥ, the great warrior-priestess said to be half of the Mānuzhhaḥ and half of the Autirsāh, with a single pair of large ears that blossomed on the sides of her fair face.

“I will not go into detail concerning her history, for it is much too sad to speak, and such things shouldn’t be repeated often.

“In her life, as she felled the wicked kings who one after another unceasingly challenged her, it came to pass that at the end of the seventh year of her conquest, the lords of Ārhmanhaḥ came together in one alliance to face her on the battlefield, knowing it futile to best her alone.

“Fifty million on the plains surrounding Utanjhanam filled to the brim with chariots, and war elephants, and flying castles. She, with her great bow and arrows of divine potency, felled all in her wake, unleashing cataclysm upon cataclysm. The kings and warriors lunged forth, enraged over the loss that the ravished maiden gave them. But when forty days had passed, all on that battlefield save her were dead.

“The race of warriors and kings, save their wives and children, had perished. And the Gods, seeing this, asked her to stay her rage for the deed had been done, and they, both glad and fearful over it, prostrated to her.

“But it’s here when the town comes of great import. Levāñyhaḥ one by one carried the butchered men and horses and wrought five great lakes of blood around Utanjhanam. The town was at that point named, Vaifañcaviprūtaram: The Town of the Five Great Lakes.

“And with the empty carcasses, she cast them into a great Fiyukthi and all the fifty million were burnt within. When all had become ash and the blood of the lakes had been purified to water, their spirits then came to her, and they bowed and prostrated seeking divine release by the Light of That One, and she giving them her mercy, allowed them to ascend to the Halls of their Forefathers, beside the moon of the Goddess Svyamhaḥ.

“When all was done, she took her position as the sole Ruler of Ārhmanhaḥ and raised the next generation of kings, queens, lords, and ladies that would succeed her. But throughout all her efforts, unable she was to remove the wretched system that has plagued us since.

“After some thousands of years had passed, she relinquished the throne to the new King and Queen of Ārhmanhaḥ who would become the parents of the five brothers of Tribulation. She moved into the forests of the east, and became an ascetic, and would later teach the five brothers in the precepts of kingship and rule, words that would fall on deaf ears to the four of them.

“When the War of the Five Brothers came and ended, and the lands were torn from each other and upheaved and sunk all about, the five great lakes merged into one, and it became known as the Viprūyavās: The Lake of Blood. And the town’s name was shortened to Viprūtaram, The Town by the Lake; not wholly unusual but certainly lacking the grandeur of its last name.

“Don’t expect to see any blood in it, however, for it was named as such given its history; as I said before, the gory lakes were purified not long after the perishing of those wretched kings. I don’t think there’s a single person alive who saw it during the time it was filled with blood, not even Athruyam who seemed to be silent in that tale. But aside from that, there also rests one of the largest structures in Ārhmanhaḥ, the white castle, standing some hundreds of feet tall, its stone taken from the Trdsyhrvti, and sculpted to absolute perfection! Perhaps we’ll have a chance to see it.”

“I can’t wait to see the gory-not-gory lake and that huge castle!” exclaimed Tūmbṃār with excitement. “But you sure there’s no blood, Feyūnhaḥ? I mean, it’s not much of a lake of blood if there’s no blood.”

She looked to him with a strange expression and said, “I don’t know why you would want to see a lake of blood, but aside from dead fish eaten by crocodiles, no. It’s now treated as a holy lake, but besides, you yourself should know just how bad blood reeks and tastes, having gone through our battles. Certainly much worse than the rank odor of milk wine mixed with Svyamhaḥ.”

And Tūmbṃār reeled in disgust on realizing that. She then turned to Nakthaḥm and said, “But I suppose you would find it quite delightful.”

“Even Demons have a sense of taste when it comes to their nourishment,” said Nakthaḥm lining his lips with his finger. “And I would rather not feast on the blood and carcasses of wretched ilk. Alas! however, seeing such a sight would be all too tempting for this worthless body that pangs with hunger for the satiation of flesh.”

And Feyūnhaḥ hesitated to ask, but just as she opened her mouth, Tūmbṃār interjected and said quite nonchalantly, “So, when’s the last time you ate a person?”

Nakthaḥm smiled and said, “A very, very long time ago.”