Herald remained facing the empty washroom, water tapping from his hair onto the stone. The black figure was gone, and when he looked back toward the mirror, only his own reflection waited there.
Am I seeing things now too? He stared at the glass for another moment, then rubbed both hands over his face. "No. Whatever that was can wait until morning," he muttered before backing out without looking again.
The bed creaked when he sat down, and Fancy and Erudite were still talking beyond his door. Their words were too quiet to understand, but their voices carried the easy rhythm of people used to sharing the same roof.
Herald’s gaze shifted to the open scroll on his desk, where his handwriting crossed the parchment in familiar curves. The letters felt known even when the thoughts behind them belonged to a life he could not reach.
He lay back and stared at the ceiling while the day returned in pieces whenever he closed his eyes. The ruined settlement, Fancy saying his name, Croaker’s examination, the ebony staff humming against the wall, the mark on his wrist, and the hollow eyes behind him in the mirror all crowded together.
Everyone here remembers who I was, and I don’t. His fingers tightened around the blanket as the house slowly went quiet. Fancy had searched the desert for him, Erudite had embraced him without hesitation, and Croaker knew enough about him to hide answers on purpose.
Herald could barely recognize his own handwriting, yet everyone else spoke to him as though the missing person was still standing in front of them. If those memories are gone, am I still the person they remember? He shifted onto his side and listened to the prayer bell outside until exhaustion finally pulled him under.
Morning arrived with temple bells, and Herald opened his eyes beneath the same unfamiliar ceiling. He spent a few breaths remembering where he was while the bed, scrolls, and clothes near the wall waited like belongings borrowed from somebody else.
Home. The word still did not fit, and his eyes moved toward the washroom instead. Morning light stopped short of the mirror, leaving the far wall hidden, so Herald watched the doorway long enough to annoy himself before getting dressed.
Fancy was already near the entrance, fastening the obsidian orchid into her hair. She adjusted one petal and looked him over before asking, "How do you feel?"
Herald bent to secure one sandal as the mirror figure returned to mind. "Tired," he answered, keeping his eyes on the strap while Fancy’s fingers paused near the flower.
He stood before she could ask more and glanced toward the last door in the hallway. "What about Peril? He still hasn’t returned?"
"Not yet." Fancy followed his gaze, then opened the front door as cool morning air entered with footsteps from outside. Peril remained another name attached to a closed room and a missing piece of Herald’s life.
"Come on. We shouldn’t be late." Fancy stepped aside for him, and Herald followed her into a street already filling with families.
Vishishtarajya was awake beneath the morning sun, with parents carrying small offerings wrapped in cloth and children walking beside them in cleaner robes. Some raced ahead until they were called back, while others stayed close with their fingers wrapped around a parent’s hand.
Nearly everyone was moving in the same direction, and Herald watched the flow before looking at Fancy. "They’re going where we’re going, aren’t they?"
"Most of them." Fancy stepped around an elderly couple while Herald matched her pace again. "For the ritual?" he asked, already expecting another incomplete answer.
"You’ll understand when we get there." Fancy kept her eyes ahead, and Herald gave her a look. "You’ve developed an impressive number of ways to avoid answering me."
"I’ve had practice." The corner of Fancy’s mouth lifted as Herald shook his head. "Apparently," he said, though this time her evasion irritated him less.
They joined the flow of families as the residential streets widened and older stone buildings replaced the clay homes. Prayer flags stretched between rooftops, incense drifted from roadside shrines, and temple bells overlapped with sandals striking stone.
Herald’s attention kept returning to the children around them. One boy asked his mother what would happen inside until she told him to wait, while another walked between both parents holding one hand from each.
Herald watched that family for several steps before asking, "Did I come here with someone the first time?" Fancy’s next step landed shorter than the last, and she kept looking ahead.
"You don’t have to tell me." Herald shifted aside as another family passed them, then added, "I’m beginning to understand when you’re avoiding something."
Fancy looked at him for a moment before facing forward again. Neither of them returned to the question, and the crowd carried them toward a broad stone approach.
Divyabhawan rose above the surrounding buildings, its dark walls towering over the district beneath long banners. Sanskrit inscriptions covered the entrance so densely that bare stone barely showed between the carved lines.
Herald slowed, but the building itself was not what stopped him. Two enormous figures sat cross-legged on raised platforms beside the entrance, each several times taller than an ordinary man.
Massive iron maces rested beside them while mantras ran across their stone-like arms and shoulders. People passed underneath without looking up, but Herald stared anyway.
"Are those statues?" he asked, lowering his voice as Fancy followed his gaze. "No. They aren’t," she answered, and one of the figures opened an eye before Herald could reply.
His breath caught while the gatekeeper’s gaze settled on him. It did not reach for the mace or shift from its seat, yet the crowd around Herald seemed farther away beneath that stare.
There was no anger in the enormous face, which somehow made being noticed worse. The eye finally closed again, and Herald released the breath he had been holding.
Fancy touched his arm and nudged him forward with the crowd. "Try not to stare at them," she said, and Herald looked at her as though the advice had arrived much too late.
"You could have mentioned that before." Herald kept his eyes ahead while Fancy replied, "I thought it was obvious."
"I thought they were statues." He caught the twitch at the corner of her mouth and narrowed his eyes. "You think this is funny."
"A little." Fancy did not bother denying it, and Herald lowered his voice as they passed beneath the gate. "One of those things could probably crush me with a finger."
"Then staring seems even less sensible." Fancy stepped half a pace ahead, leaving Herald without a useful reply. He followed her into the outer courtyard instead.
Attendants directed arriving families toward different sections of Divyabhawan while guards stood near enormous wooden doors. Children clustered beneath carved pillars, their voices bouncing between the stone walls.
Herald took another step toward the entrance, and something tightened in his chest. He stopped so suddenly that Fancy moved half a pace ahead before turning back toward him.
"Herald?" She watched as his eyes travelled over the doorway, the pillars, and the shallow rise in the stone path. Nothing returned to his mind, yet his feet felt less uncertain than they had anywhere else since waking in the desert.
"I’ve been here." The words left him before he understood why he believed them, and Fancy turned fully toward him. "What?"
No image returned, no forgotten voice surfaced, and no memory broke free. His body knew anyway, adjusting for the shallow rise before he reached it and measuring the distance to the doors without thought.
A bell sounded somewhere inside, and Herald’s shoulders tightened before the first note had completely faded. The second chime came exactly when some part of him expected it.
Fancy stepped closer and asked, "What is it?" Herald looked at her, then back toward the entrance. "I... don’t know."
For once, the useless answer belonged to him, and he did not like how it felt. Before Fancy could say anything else, an attendant approached and bowed. "The ritual will begin shortly."
Beyond him, rows of oil lamps lined a dim corridor whose far end disappeared into shadow. Croaker had refused to answer him because tomorrow mattered more, and now tomorrow had arrived.
Some part of Herald recognized Divyabhawan even while his mind remained empty. Maybe I’ll remember. His eyes followed the lamps deeper into the corridor, but his stomach tightened instead of easing.
And what if I do? Herald lowered his gaze and pulled his sleeve farther over the faint mark Croaker had warned him to hide. Fancy extended her hand toward him. "You’re coming?"
Herald looked at her palm, then toward the corridor before placing his hand in hers. "Of course," he said, and together they crossed the threshold as the enormous doors began to close behind them.
Morning light narrowed across the stone floor until only the rows of oil lamps remained. Herald had spent two days asking other people who he was, and somewhere inside Divyabhawan he might finally find an answer, but as the doors shut behind him, he was no longer certain he wanted one.