“Brother Vidyut.”

The high-pitched voice woke Tantric Vidyut up from his slumber. He lay recumbent on the soft divan in the royal guest bed-chamber as his sleep-addled mind slowly returned to the present.

“Is it all right if I take a fruit from the bowl?”

“Yes,” Vidyut answered, still groggy from sleep. “You should try to get some rest afterward.”

“Yes, brother.” Alok took one bite of the juicy red apple he had picked from the silver bowl and returned to the bed.

“Here, it is so warm. They do not even light any fire in the room.” Alok observed, around a mouthful of the piece of fruit he was chewing.

Vidyut sighed. Now that his sleep had been disrupted, he had no choice but to sit up and converse, and converse he did.

“This is the central kingdom. Unlike the north, which is seated up in the mountains, this is closer to the sea. It keeps the folks here warm. Mountains in the north also stop the cold northern winds from coming down South, keeping it temperate. The study of regions of the earth, that is where you will learn of all this.”

“Ahhh.” The apprentice gave a long sigh of realization and nodded eagerly.

He went quiet and moved his eyes all around the room, roof to the walls to the floor, back to the roof. Vidyut saw his wheels turning.

“The walls in this room are draped in curtains.” Alok made another observation, like a child who had made a delightful discovery.

“It is tapestry.” Vidyut corrected him.

The palace indeed lived up to the eminence of the Kingdom of Rakhtaprastha. It was named the Sun Palace in honor of the Sun God that blessed the kingdom with prosperity and heir. It was the first kingdom in centuries that ruled over all the five realms, including its own, the entire continent of Asaya, kneeling to its command. The palace itself sprawled acres of land, sitting high above the rest of the city. The gilded gates led to an open courtyard paved with a gigantic chessboard that had drawn Vidyut’s attention when he visited the palace for the first time five years ago. He had heard whispers that real humans were used as chess pieces. He would not mind one such game of chess.

“The bed is soft.” The youth said with the same eager voice, as he clapped the mattress, of the bed he was sitting on, loudly with his one hand. “You should rest here, brother, not on the little bed.”

“No trouble, this bed is decent enough.” Vidyut shot down the youth’s innocent suggestion.

Alok continued thumping the bed with his left palm when he stopped all of a sudden. In the next instant, his eyes teared up. He lowered his head as tears came unbidden, streaming down his long thin face. Vidyut guessed that must be related to his unfortunate maiming. He stayed glued to the divan, unsure of how to act. The youth had wept from time to time in past two weeks, but Prince Surya was always by his side to soothe him, unlike now. Vidyut could utter a word or two of comfort to the youth or give him a sympathetic pat on his shoulder, but that all would sound insincere. As he was mulling over his choices, a knock came from the door, and he crossed the room to open it.

It was Prince Surya and Queen Rukmini, with a royal servant standing behind them carrying a large basket. The prince was holding a brass plate with some ceremonial offerings.

“Your Highness, Queen Rukmini, regards. Your Highness, Prince Surya, regards.”

After the pleasantries were exchanged and the basket of gifts accepted, the Queen padded over to the sick youth, who was now standing beside the bed, cheeks still moist with tears.

“What is this? Are you crying, my child?” She said in a sweet voice as she sat Alok on the bed and rubbed away the moisture. “You are a battle hero! I heard you risked your life to save your friends, to save my son! How many knights can claim that?” The young sorcerer gave her a thin smile as he sniffled the tears from his nostrils.

Surya and Vidyut exchanged a glance, and Surya walked up to Alok with the offerings plate.

“Here, this is from the prayer ceremony this morning at the Shiva temple.”

Alok glanced at his senior, seeking permission. Vidyut gave a nod of approval and the pupil complied.

The Queen turned to Vidyut, tilting her head up. “You come from the north?” The Queen regarded him with interest.

“Yes, my Queen. From Samrashtra, the Northern Guild of Tantrism.”

“Ah!” The Queen exclaimed softly and then walked up to Vidyut, her head tilting further up. “Where have I seen you? I cannot forget a boy so tall as you.” She reached up and held his chin nonchalantly, turning it this side and that, studying his face.

Vidyut wanted to swat away her hand, but respect for her title and gender stopped him. He looked at her son standing behind her, who was now pressing his lips tight to hold back his giggle.

“I have attended King Shaktidev’s royal court a few times in the past, Your Highness.”

“Ahhh.” She let go of his chin. “I expect to see you both boys at noontime for lunch at the banquet hall. You look so thin. Finish those sweets.” She pointed to the basket.

With her last set of instructions, Great Queen Rukmini left the chamber. The prince flashed the guests a helpless smile before he too made his exit.

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Surya's eyes shot open, and he looked around. All he could see was endless darkness. A sense of déjà vu crept up. It was painfully quiet. He gingerly set one cautious foot on the ground and then the other. The ground below him was scorching, but it did not burn his feet. He walked a few steps in an unknown direction. His hands swept in front of him as he tried to find his way. He noticed a faint thin voice coming from a distance as he walked further. He turned and started walking towards the voice, gaining pace as he moved closer.

Soon the voice grew into loud whimpers, and Surya saw a halo from where the whimpers came. His heart raced in his chest, his feet matching the rhythm. He was now running towards the halo, the light slowly engulfing the dark. At last, he saw a white figure in the distance. As he approached the figure, he saw it was curled into itself, back twisted almost into a ball, head buried into its legs. It felt like a distant memory. He slowed down now as he edged closer to the shadow.

“Why are you crying?” Surya asked the white shadow. His question went unnoticed as the white figure continued to whimper.

“Are you lost?” Surya asked again, inching closer to the figure.

The whimpers stopped. The spirit started to untwist itself; its neck and back began to straighten. The spirit, then, rose to its feet and turned its face to Surya. But he could not see it. Its face was empty. Surya’s breath was caught in his chest. The spirit began to move towards Surya, one step after the other. Surya scampered backward, too shaken to turn and run. After a couple of hurried steps, he stumbled and fell on his back. The spirit started to laugh in a thin sweet voice. But as the laughter grew, the voice grew thicker, becoming a man’s voice, and the spirit grew with it too.

“My deceit?” The White Spirit roared. It was a man’s shape now. “Was it me who massacred thousands at the Nalini riverbank? Was it me who scourged the east city with the great affliction? You have used force and falsehoods to corrupt people and commit great sins. Today, your depravity ends. If you do not leave, I will crush you with my own two hands.”

Surya remained silent. His heart was not racing anymore, nor could he feel his breathing. As he stood up, he felt the white glow turn warm and golden red. He spun his head to the side and saw columns of red-hot fire rising from an enormous pit that surrounded the two figures, the prince and the White Spirit. The fire had spread through the entire pit, its tall flames reaching the sky, its smoke forming dark, sinister clouds.

Suddenly, Surya felt heavy. He lowered his gaze. His skin had turned dark, and his back felt a warm glow. His body was now covered in a red armor. His right hand was gripping a mace. He snapped his gaze back to the White Spirit, who had a face now, a face from a distant memory. And it held a longsword in his right hand.

“Come then, what are you waiting for, God King?” Surya challenged the White Spirit, with a wolfish grin, his two shiny fangs biting into his lips.

The two figures clashed with the battle cry, their weapons striking down hard and swift. Surya blocked every swing of the White Spirit as his fire flashed brightly. But the White Spirit was unscathed by the flames, and its attacks were relentless and swift. An eternity later, Surya felt his body tiring, his breathing labored. His mace grew heavy in his hand, and his fire started to dim.

The White Spirit’s attacks did not weaken a bit. Surya felt that his end was nearing, and at last, he faltered. A swing of the longsword slashed through his neck, sending him vaulting backward, off the edge of the fiery pit. Tears moistened his eyes as he slowly felt his body disintegrating into the eternal flames. But then, he felt his heart racing again and his chest breathing again.

Surya woke up with a start. His entire body was covered with a fine sheen of sweat. It was all a dream, he thought. He was sitting on his bed, and it was all a dream, he reassured himself. Yet, he watched with dismay as the lamp on the table flickered and slowly died.

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