Fancy stayed close as they walked toward the main corridor, their sleeves brushing whenever the passage narrowed. After several turns, she noticed the colour still had not returned properly to Herald’s face.
"You really do look terrible," she said. Herald glanced sideways at her while the noise of Divyabhawan grew louder ahead. "I’ve been told."
"What happened in there?" Fancy asked, and Herald’s next step shortened. Cold stone returned beneath his knees in memory, followed by black-red water, the rotten stench of Naraka and Yamaraj’s eyes fixed on him through the dark.
Herald swallowed and kept walking. "I remembered something," he said, while one hand flexed uselessly at his side.
Fancy stopped so abruptly that Herald took another step before noticing she was no longer beside him. He turned and found her staring at him with one hand tightened around the edge of her saree.
"Remembered?" she asked, lowering her voice as two attendants passed carrying bowls of sacred water. "From before the shraap?"
Herald gave a small nod, and Fancy’s grip on the cloth tightened. "What did you remember? Was I there? Was Peril there? Did you remember where—"
The questions came faster than her breath until she caught the look on Herald’s face and stopped herself. "Sorry," she said, and Herald rubbed his thumb against the side of his palm.
"It’s fine." He kept his eyes on the stone ahead, though the motion of his hand did nothing to settle the memory pressing at the back of his skull.
Fancy waited, but he offered nothing more. Whatever had returned had left his shoulders tight, so she let the silence stay as they walked back toward the crowded main hall.
Fancy glanced at Herald’s covered wrist. "What did you awaken?" she asked, and Herald pulled his sleeve back just enough to expose the faint mark.
"Facade called it the Yamawadi Pathway." He watched Fancy lean closer, her brows drawing together as she studied the mark.
"Yamawadi... Yama?" she asked. Herald covered his wrist again before answering, "Lord Yamaraj."
Fancy’s expression sharpened. "The god of death?" she asked, and Herald gave a humourless half-smile.
"Apparently he and I have some disagreements." The joke came lightly, but the memory of Naraka sat beneath it like cold metal.
Fancy gave him a hard look. "What does the Pathway do?" Herald waited for recognition in her face and found none.
"I was hoping you could tell me." His fingers slipped beneath the edge of his sleeve while Fancy shook her head.
"I’ve never heard of it." She looked toward the crowd as if the name might somehow be written on someone else’s wrist.
Herald stopped rubbing his palm. "You haven’t?" Fancy lowered her voice. "I know Yamaraj, obviously. Everyone does. But a Yamawadi Pathway? I’ve never heard that name before."
"Facade knew it." Herald glanced toward the inner corridors, but Fancy only shrugged. "Facade knows things normal people don’t."
"That’s reassuringly vague." His mouth twitched, and Fancy answered, "It wasn’t supposed to reassure you."
They were nearly at the main corridor when Fancy slowed once more. "Wait. You had a Pathway before," she said, and Herald let out a tired breath.
"So everyone keeps reminding me." He started forward, but Fancy stepped closer so the passing crowd could not easily hear them.
"No, Herald. Listen." Her eyes dropped toward his wrist again. "A Siddha can lose their Pathway. That happens. Sometimes they can awaken again too."
She paused while a group of young candidates passed between them and the pillars. "But an entirely different Pathway? I’ve never heard of that."
Herald pulled his sleeve farther down. "Never?" he asked, and Fancy answered quickly enough to strip the humour from his face.
"Never." Around them, candidates compared fresh marks while incense drifted between the pillars. Herald stood among them feeling as though whatever rules governed everyone else had failed to include him. Follow the newest chapters on novelping.com.
"Good." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Yesterday I didn’t know who I was. Today I’m apparently doing things nobody has heard of. At this rate, tomorrow should be relaxing."
"That’s not funny." Fancy folded her arms, and Herald looked at her.
"It was a little funny." His mouth curved when her glare sharpened.
"You’re still upset about the cheek," he said, and Fancy started walking again. "I wasn’t until you reminded me."
"Then I apologize." Herald tried to sound sincere and failed badly enough that Fancy turned toward him.
"You don’t sound sorry." Her eyes narrowed, and Herald lifted both hands slightly.
"I’m relearning how apologies work." The corner of Fancy’s mouth betrayed her before she looked away.
By the time they left Divyabhawan, afternoon crowds had swallowed the streets. Fancy complained about Herald pulling her cheek while vendors called from shaded stalls, and Herald let her talk because her voice was easier to follow than his thoughts of Naraka.
At the house, Fancy lingered near the hallway and rubbed one hand along her opposite wrist. "I’m going to lie down," she said, and Herald noticed the tiredness around her eyes without asking what she had seen.
She had not forced him to explain his own vision, and returning the courtesy felt fair. "Get some rest," he said, stepping toward his room while Fancy pointed at him.
"You too. You still look terrible." A little of her usual expression had returned, and Herald placed one hand against his chest.
"Thank you." He gave her the smallest bow, which made Fancy’s brows lift.
"That wasn’t a compliment." She turned toward her room while Herald answered, "I’ve decided to take it as one."
Fancy disappeared behind her door, and Herald entered his own room. The ebony staff rested exactly where he had left it.
Herald deliberately looked elsewhere while removing his outer robe. He straightened a scroll that did not need straightening and moved a cup only to return it to the same place.
Soon there was nothing else to occupy him. His attention returned to the black jade skull crowning the staff, and the screams came with it.
Old paper and sandalwood filled the room, yet Herald could almost smell Naraka beneath them. Rot had clung to every breath there, ash had scratched his throat, and Yamaraj had watched another version of him kneel beside the black-red river.
Herald pressed both palms against his face. "What the hell was I doing?" he muttered, and the wall beside him rippled like disturbed water.
He was on his feet before Erudite had completely stepped through it. Several scrolls rested beneath Erudite’s arm as though entering through solid stone were ordinary.
Herald pointed toward the perfectly functional door. "There is a door," he said, and Erudite glanced at it.
"I know." He adjusted the scrolls and started toward the table.
"Then why did you come through my wall?" Herald looked from Erudite to the stone as if one of them might admit the absurdity.
"It was closer." Erudite kept moving, and Herald stared at him.
"By three steps." His hand remained pointed toward the door.
"Three steps I didn’t have to take." Erudite reached the table before Herald’s stare finally made him stop.
After a moment, Erudite sighed. "You used to say that every time," he said, and Herald lowered his hand.
"About the door?" Herald asked, while Erudite’s mouth twitched.
"You had a strange belief that civilized people should enter rooms through their intended openings." He glanced toward the door again.
"Exactly like that." Erudite’s answer pulled a laugh from Herald before he could stop it.
Erudite placed the scrolls on the table, pulled over a floor cushion and motioned for Herald to join him. "Sit," he said, and Herald remained standing.
"Why?" Herald asked, folding his arms while Erudite settled cross-legged.
"Because I’m older than you." Erudite said it as though that settled the matter.
Herald gave him a flat look. "That’s not an answer," he said, and Erudite rested his hands on his knees.
"It worked before." He waited, and apparently it still worked because Herald sat across from him.
Erudite glanced toward Herald’s covered wrist. "Facade told me you awakened Yamawadi," he said, and Herald’s amusement faded.
"He works quickly." Herald rested his hands against his knees.
"He knows I’d find out anyway." Erudite leaned forward slightly. "We’ll worry about what Yamawadi is after I’ve spoken with him properly. Right now I want to know whether your body still remembers how to move prana."
Herald frowned. "How?" he asked, and Erudite answered with complete seriousness.
"Meditation." Nothing else followed, and Herald looked around the room.
"That’s it?" he asked, while Erudite raised one eyebrow.
"Try to contain your excitement." Herald shifted on the cushion and sighed.
"I’ll do my best." He closed his eyes when Erudite told him to.
Erudite instructed him not to search for anything or force the Pathway to respond. Herald only needed to breathe and allow each thought to pass without following it.
At first, meditation only made ordinary sounds more irritating: movement elsewhere in the house, wheels outside, birds arguing on the roof. Gradually, the noises stopped demanding his attention and his shoulders loosened.
Warmth gathered beneath his ribs. Herald almost opened his eyes, but Erudite’s earlier instruction returned before he could chase the sensation.
He breathed again and let the warmth spread through his chest and along his arms. Unlike the unnatural cold of Facade’s ring, this did not feel foreign; his body accepted it so easily that the familiarity unsettled him more than resistance would have.
A faint current escaped across his skin and raised the fine hairs along his forearms. Erudite’s voice reached him from across the table. "There. You felt that."
Herald opened one eye. "I felt something," he said, and Erudite remained still on his cushion.
"Again." Herald closed his eye and tried once more.
The second attempt came faster, warmth gathering beneath his ribs and spreading with less resistance. When he opened his eyes, a faint trace still lingered under his skin.
Herald rubbed his thumb against his palm. "I’ve done this before," he said, and the certainty felt different from memory; his body simply knew.
"Thousands of times." Erudite answered without hesitation, and Herald looked down at his hands.
"Was I good?" he asked, but Erudite’s expression answered before his mouth did.
Herald sighed. "How good?" he asked, and Erudite leaned back slightly across the low table.
"You reached Queen." The words landed quietly between them, and Herald’s fingers stopped moving against his palm.