The town of Muria was high on the slopes of the western mountains. The road to the town was winding as all roads climbing up mountains were, but it was smooth as polished glass, with tough iron railings on either sides and clear radiant road markings. It was the kind of road one would expect to see connecting major cities with innumerable vehicles driving over everyday. Muria was a town with a population less than five thousand, and annual visitors not amounting to even a thousand. Why would such a town have such a road?

The answer was simple. Muria was town filled with powerful people. An incident from not too long ago would be of great help understanding this.

A broken child awakened her power one evening. By the following morning, her rage fuelled the awakening to rapid completion. The sun rose over a demon who lost herself to the desire for revenge against all of the world that had caused her such great pain. She went on a rampage, destroying everything that came in her path, and drawing a long path of carnage, arrived at Muria. The welcome she received in Muria wasn't one of fear but of lazy nonchalance.

"Who are you?" A boy asked.

"I'm death," the demon exclaimed viciously.

The boy yawned, as did all around him.

"So boring," the boy replied. "Please leave."

The demon was infuriated, but she didn't act. She stood frozen, staring at the boy.

"I want revenge," the demon screamed.

"Go get it," the boy replied. "You won't get it here."

The demon nodded. Turned around. And left.

An undiscerning eye wouldn't see the whole picture. Why did the demon stop? Because those she was facing were far more terrifying. Why did the demon calm down? Because the laziness was infectious. And why did this incident represent the status of the town? Because the town was filled with people who were all extremely powerful.

So, yes. No one complained about the road climbing up to Muria.

Truth be told, Muria was just one of several mysterious towns spread across the country and the world even.

The two government men in black suits were recollecting all they knew about the town as they drove up in the government issued black colour Pera-Station car. They wore grimaces because they knew they were expected to deliver an impossible result. Even if there was no cap on what they were permitted to offer, they couldn't think of an answer to the very basic question. Would he even want something?

As the car drove into the town, people looked out, yawned and returned to what they were doing. The grimaces on the faces of the two government men deepened. They walked into the town patisserie, and greeted the woman behind the counter warmly.

"Good afternoon madam," the taller of the two said with complete sincerity. "Could we have your permission to speak with little YaYa?"

The woman smiled. She was pleased with the two men who had done their homework. They knew little YaYa like being called little YaYa. She looked back at them, as she thought long and finally nodded.

"Yajesdon, you have guests," she screamed so loud, the two men froze.

She grinned proudly, and then ignored them.

Five minutes later, a young boy not of fourteen years yet walked out from inside. He glared at the woman lazily.

"Mother," he said, speaking every word slowly. "I am YaYa."

The woman snorted.

"You are what I call you," she said, as she waved her hand as if shooing him away.

YaYa then ignored his mother as he turned his attention toward the two men.

"You want me?" He asked.

The taller of the two nodded at the other, who then spoke with YaYa.

"We need you," he admitted. "The governor's daughter is ill. She is possessed. We were sent to invite you over to help."

YaYa looked confused.

"If she is possessed, ask for the temple."

"We did," the tall one answered.

"It's a little complicated," the other one continued. "Please do come. The governor requested for you. You can ask for anything."

The two men clenched their fists tight. They told their boss the people of Muria wouldn't be attracted by such an offer, but their boss had been adamant. Try, he said. And they had to follow orders.

YaYa looked between the two men who were looking at him pleadingly and his mother who was squinting at him as if she could see what was churning in his head. He gave her a ghost of a smile, and before she could, he spoke to the two men.

"Sure. I want ice-cream."

"Definitely," the two men answered reflexively, and then froze.

What just happened? YaYa agreed. For ice-cream. They were too shocked to notice the woman, until they felt her piercing gaze.

"Sorry madam," they apologised, as they sweated.

"Did you just agree to ice-cream?" She asked in a low voice that was many times more threatening than a deafening roar.

They were still frozen. YaYa answered for them.

"Yes," he said. "It's done. Nothing you can do about it."

She snorted at YaYa and glared at the two men. They knew, they could never come back to the town.

An hour later, amid much fanfare, YaYa said his farewells to the people of his town, ignored his mother's glare, sat in the back of the black car, and smiled as they drove away.

The two men's preparations were for naught. There were no warnings about taking care of the boy. There were no words of advice. They were given the acknowledgement a driver of a taxi would be given. The only one who gave them attention was YaYa's mother, who glared holes through their souls. Even as they drove away, they couldn't understand what they had done.