THE wolf took a hidden passage that led to a nearby garden while Iḷēhaḥ and the sleeping Tūmbṃār were taken into a large palace. They were given a most spacious room constructed entirely out of marble, glowing with a golden hue. Yet more scenic and radiant was the city itself.

Its dwellings spiraled out from the center of the valley, and all were inset along the trunks of the trees with the roofs of the highest ones affixed above the canopy. The palace itself was seated atop a mountain with long curved bridges connected to a central junction that stretched toward it. They also possessed large boats, the shape of which was in the likeness of bowls, and these were used to travel into the forest and ferry passage to other parts of the domain, the extent of which reached the edges of the mountain’s interior. Within the center of the valley was a large stone temple. A spiral staircase wrapped around its length, then leading to a room where rested a burning Fiyukthi, the flame of which was visible from all parts. It was said that its burning should never cease in this domain for it represented, That which is the Great Flame.

The people living here were known as Autirsāh, one of the many lesser Daivhaḥhō said to be descendants of the Celestials. They did not look much different from an average man, though they bore their own qualities. Three ears they possessed on each side of their heads, broad but pointed, blossoming like flowers. Atop their heads were horns that emerged from the back yet encircled in front, much like a crown. And those who resided in the city were possessed of dark skin, light hair, and hazel eyes. In Ahasṭṛṭhaḥr did their name mean the thrice-eared.

Iḷēhaḥ sat in a chair, watching over Tūmbṃār as he slept peacefully in a large, soft bed. After some time passed, Athruyam came bearing refreshments. Long white robes flowed from his person, with a sash similar to the one that Chief Hūhvar wore.

“Glad am I to see you once again, my fair maiden,” said Athruyam bowing. “The wolf told me you journeyed quite a ways.”

She turned to him with a dignified posture and said, “And glad am I to see you, friend! It is good to know that you yet remain on Ārhmanhaḥ. And yes, we came by his insistence. He brought us here from some two hundred leagues north at the tip of the Cedar Forest. I did not have any business this way, in fact I was not informed of your being here at all, but the child who was with me said he was to meet someone here on behalf of his teacher. Would that be you?”

He nodded and said, “Indeed, and I had also sent the wolf to bring you. I hope you can forgive the wolf’s rudeness when he first approached you; it seems you took him to be a man-eater.”

She laughed and said, “Aye! When he leaped upon the child, I thought he would have devoured him. I wonder why he attacked or rather intimidated us at the time? He quickly calmed when the boy touched him.”

“Seldom does he intend harm, but I assume he desired to confirm something of the boy. You said his name is Tūmbṃār, correct? I much desire to know more of the child before I tell you why it was the sage intended on his coming hither.”

She nodded and said, “Of course! What is it you wish to know?”

He leaned forward with his hands clasped and elbows upon his knees. “Whence does the boy come? From what the wolf related to me, it would seem he possesses rather the unique set of abilities.”

Iḷēhaḥ then explained all concerning his circumstances.

And Athruyam, after reflecting on this, said, “Then I should assume his ability to talk with the animals was either instructed to him by the sage or is a natural gift. Though not impossible to obtain such an ability, it certainly is a rarity in this world.

“This sage, however, is another matter. Even with dispensing curses, most sages would not make amends in such a way, especially now that the powers are receding from this sphere no less by demand of the Foremother herself.”

He stood up and walked about the room, pondering for a bit. “The sage had contacted me some time ago, many months now, about the matter relating to the child. He instructed me to train him and thereafter, perhaps send him to deal with the issue that we have neglected as of late. Yet he would give no details of the child himself, only saying that he was en route hither with a maiden of wedding-like raiment in tow.”

She could not recall having met the sage, but perhaps he could see from afar, though she knew little of the power sages possessed.

“An issue?” she asked.

“Yes, and quite a serious one, I must say. There is a demon that lurks in these forests. It has given little trouble since its coming, but under current circumstances, I can no more leave it be.”

“A demon!” shouted Iḷēhaḥ as she immediately rose and her chair fell to the floor, “How has one managed to come here? Were not the ones that dwelt upon this world since time immemorial done away with or sent back to the lower sphere?”

“You know very little given your nature.” She pulled her seat up and sat, embarrassed by her outburst. “A good number still reside in this sphere, hiding no doubt. Zūryaṃār alongside his brothers, while having felled many in their trials, could not do away with all. Not even the Gods should be able to tell where each and every one dwells. For, after all, many are equal in strength to the Dehaḥṃār and Daivhaḥhō and have persisted here no less by foolish contracts set by those in ages past. Perhaps they are still being summoned to this day in more secret parts of the world, but I have heard little news of their activity elsewhere.

“But even so, it does not mean they cannot be felled. The sage himself seems to think it can be dealt with by the child, though he did not indicate that he knew of its presence. Related to this, however, is the sage’s final request – one with the highest import – that I should grant Tūmbṃār the Dvhaḥṣhtro, that divine armament of Dusdrahaḥ. We have kept it sealed away in a cave at the western edge of the forest, by request of Zūryaṃār after the end of that great war.

“Incidentally, that is also where the demon has set up residence and many a one returned injured or worse en route toward it. It seems to desire the weapon for itself, though to what end I cannot tell. It is not as if it could wield it, let alone touch it, not without divine sanction, and few of them would be able to seek audience even with austerities, especially now of all times. Few Demons are left that still abide by the principles of Khāryaḥ. This is why I have brought both you and the boy hither, Iḷēhaḥ.”

She looked to him with eyes wide, distraught, and responded, “Surely, you cannot send the boy after such a thing! Not with that demon strolling around this place as if it were his backyard! There must be another means to procure it. Do you not have any back route toward the cave?”

He shook his head and said, “Even if there were, it would matter little for that demon would most assuredly chase you to the ends of the Earth. That being said, I think my instruction shall help give the boy a chance, and I no doubt trust in the sage’s words. In any case, I shall gauge his potential when he has awoken. The sage instructed me to finish his training in three months.” He then shuddered. “I fear to think what should happen to me if I fail.”

And Iḷēhaḥ sighed and gave a sheepish smile. She did not much like this, but she relented and he said, “Now, about you. Have you had any contact with your kin since your arrival?”

She shook her head. “For the two years I have been here, I have not found the ones who could avert the coming invasion. It would seem a lost cause; if my forefathers had not rendered me to such a pitiable state, perhaps it would be easier to find the ones they seek, but I know little of their intentions in this matter. I could not so much as approach another person on my own, as if some invisible force kept distance between me and any other. It was quite the surprise Tūmbṃār came as he did, almost as if a curse had been released from me. So cruel of them to send me down with little direction as to what to do. I cannot fathom what is going about their heads! And now I learn there to be Demons on the loose in this world before the fall of the Ṃārhaḥn; O why have my forefathers thus forsaken me?”

Athruyam laughed while Iḷēhaḥ was displeased. “You have been sheltered far too long, my fair maiden! Perhaps this is also a test for you in what is to come. If it be any consolation, given your forefathers’ disposition, I can only say they would not have sent you if it was not of great import; perhaps it might not have been their order at all. Indeed, it could have come from, Ishvhaḥṃār, The Highest of That One.”

“I have never met that Old Progenitor, nor do I think I ever shall,” said Iḷēhaḥ with a hint of sadness behind her voice.

“Neither have most, including I, but it does not mean they rest idle in their dwelling,” said Athruyam. “They may themselves be playing a part, and if this decree has truly come from them, then in your position would I be glad. There are few who would be tasked by such a one directly, and none who have descended by their request as of late. The last incident I recall of such a nature be Yokṣhuah’s meeting with Lūshhaḥ, The Light of That One. Though it is debatable who really sent whom.”

“Well, regardless of who tasked me, I do hope matters can be settled when the time arises and I am able to return back home. I do not very much wish for Tūmbṃār to have to take up this role. ’Tis not right for him to carry such a burden.”

“As do I feel the same.” He looked out the window to see the sky darkening. “Dusk has set; you should make use of our baths and perhaps spend time touring this place before retiring. There is much to see and many to engage with. Perhaps you shall make some friends during your stay! I may have my sister meet you later, but she has duties to attend to now.”

“Oh! I did not think you had one, but I shall be glad to see her as a friend, if and when I should see her.”

“I hope you will.”

Iḷēhaḥ rose from her seat and bowed to Athruyam, saying, “I shall take my leave now and head to the baths; gratitude to you, Lord Athruyam, for letting us come!”

“Nay, to you! I certainly would not wish to bear the brunt of the sage’s curse.”

And both laughed at that.