In the great void, time held no meanings. Devoid of pain, Samira was tempted to stay here forever. But she heard the sound of a bell. Deep and ringing melodiously, echoing from all directions. Then she opened her eyes to a great dark hall illuminated by the glowing light of burning souls. In the middle of the great hall was an old man sitting cross-legged. His long white hair were partly tied to a bun, his long white beard reached and coiled on the floor.
The Great Mantara, her old master, smiled at her.
"Hello, Samira."
His voice echoed, as if he was speaking from a place far far away instead of right in front of her. Samira walked closer, glancing around the room for a moment before finally she stared down at her late master. Mantara was an imposing old man when he was alive and all powerful, but in death his eyes had became glassy and his skin were rotting away. The red and white paint lining his face had taken a greenish hue, peeling into crumbles of paint dust.
"Greetings, Master."
"You've made a stupid mistake, child."
"I'm well aware of that," she grumbled and sat in front of him casually. "Why did you call me?"
"Is that how you speak to your Babaji?"
She hated that smile of his. Hated the fact that she used to believe in its warmth and benevolence. Hated how she used to affectionately called him 'Babaji', as if he was her second father, a replacement of the Captain Ahad. But right now, she wasn't strong enough yet.
"I thought I've silenced you completely..." She mused casually, putting her chin on her open palm as she gazed at him in deep thought. The old maharishi laughed a deep chested laugh.
"You've managed to kill me, yes, but your skill wasn't perfect yet. I have yet taught you everything I know, Samira. And you are still as temperamental as ever. Well? Do you want the rest of my powers?"
"You don't have to bother. I only need enough time before I could absorb you completely."
Mantara sneered dangerously.
"And as arrogant as ever, I see. You've bitten the hand that feeds you, bitten more than you can chew. I should've killed you sooner."
"You should've," she nodded and smiled mockingly. "But instead you desired me too much. That was a stupid mistake too... 'Babaji'."
Vaguely, Samira could feel what Mantara's anger had done to her physical body. Almost as if she's sensing it happened to another's body instead of her own. The limbs trashing wildly, there were strong hands holding her down to a bed, tying her with iron chains and manacles. A wood piece wrapped in cloth were stuffed to her mouth to prevent her from biting her own tongue, then it was tied around at the back of her head.
They lit incense in a hanging bronze brazier and smoked the cloud of fragrance all over her body. There were chantings of healers. Different people going in and out of the room, trying to talk to her from day until sundown before everything went quiet. Then it was the turn for malevolent spirits, banging on the protective barrier casted by Kaimana, trying to take a bite of her flesh. The barrier was starting to crack when midnight came.
But in this hall, the flow of time was askewed.
Mantara's anger suddenly receded like a low tide in new moon. The glassy eyes gazing at her were filled with regret and sorrow.
"Love, my dear child, is a powerful thing."
"Don't pretend that you 'loved' me, Mantara," she scowled. "You desired me. The idea of me, the potential of what I could have become. You don't love me."
"And yet you claim to know love yourself? You claimed to love that young princeling from Akatara?" The old, rotting Mantara smiled warmly. Gently. Benevolently. "You loved the idea of him. The probability of what could've been. See, you left him in the end. You should've let me took over his body. Won't you desire power and beauty in a person?"
Samira sneered in disgust. Repulsed by the old man who had taught her for years, who had given her a chance for her own independence. She didn't realize his plan until it was too late. That the love she had with Farhad was allowed to blossom because of Mantara's doing.
The old maharishi was the head of Astravana. Normally, relationships between disciples were forbidden. Everyone thought Samira and Farhad's was allowed by the grand master because she was his favored disciple. Until a few months ago, she had been seriously considering elopement with Farhad. She would be an independent rishi while he would abandon his title as prince, together they will travel the world.
Who would've thought that she'd find Farhad's unconscious body upon an altar, ready to be taken as replacement for Mantara. Who would've thought that love could also be used in such a dirty, disgusting way. She had killed Mantara then and swallowed his soul. Although it had given her immense power, it also has been rotting inside her, eroding her body and her sanity.
She would never be able to bore children. Her appearance would slowly turn horrible permanently. She would also soon lose herself if she didn't manage to absorb his essence completely. It was a race against time for her. Before they would merge and turn into an evil being and became the agent of chaos. Even dead, Mantara still had many great and hidden powers. He might have only let himself be killed, fooling Samira into taking his soul inside her body.
"I should have destroyed your soul completely."
If only she was strong enough.
"But you couldn't. What are you planning to use me for after absorbing me completely? Ah... Are you planning to try ressurrecting your dead father?"
"He's not dead!" Samira shouted and Mantara laughed.
"Don't fool yourself into thinking he's only missing, child. Were you so heartbroken because of me and that princeling, that you're looking for the first person who had given you wings to fly?"
"Shut up!"
"Come to your senses, Samira. Even your supposed independence was only an illusion. Your wings were given to you! They were never your own to begin with!"
"Shut up! Shut up!"
She shot forward to strangle the dead man who was holding her wrists. All around her the great hall was crumbling. At first it was only cracks and dust falling from the ceiling. But soon, large pieces of rocks were falling. Mantara grin a wide row of yellowing teeth.
"Yes. Let us die together, you and I. Be reborn at my side."
They were floating into the embrace of the Great Black One. The Lord of Time, Death, and Destruction. Batara Kala had lent them great powers and to him they will also return. This great dark hall that protected their soul from the eternal embrace was falling into nothingness.
Under pressure of mutual destruction, Samira lost her last inhibition. She stopped strangling Mantara and fled a few steps away from him. She pulled her hair pin and sliced along her forearm, tearing open her own veins. Spurts of blood turned into floating droplets, dyeing her eyes black and tears of tar trickled across her cheeks. She was going to invoke a forbidden enchantment that will permanently destroy herself.
Mantara's glassy eyes grew afraid, a foreign look that rarely appeared on the powerful rishi's face.
"Stop! Do not call upon her name!" yelled Mantara, but Samira's lips had opened and chanted the old language.
"—Kali ma wang na sakakala..."
[—blessed be the Mother of Death... The Lady of Time... I offer you my body and soul into your eternal embrace. Lend me your power to swallow my enemy—]
She was going to condemn herself to eternally serve the Mother of Death, removing herself from the cycle of rebirth and never to be reborn as human for all eternity. The enchantment was fuelled by her hatred. She was revoking her humanity, the last great inhibition of a necromancer. Mantara was rightly desperate, he didn't want to lose her completely. Not yet.
[Dumm. Dumm.]
But before she could finish her chants, a thrumming sound was heard, vibrating between their souls. Someone was beside her corporeal body. Someone in the outside world was touching her face and opened her lips. A wisp of cloud flowed through the cracks on the walls, surrounding them and making her feel hazy. It was like a warm, loving embrace, she could almost imagine hearing another heartbeat next to hers.
[—Samira.]
Someone was calling to her.
[—Come back to me, Samira.]
She tried to resist the call stubbornly. She needed to destroy Mantara before it's too late. Before she lost the fight and be consumed. She groaned and tried to break free from the invisible retraints. But her feet were already dragged back, her limbs grew limp and weak.
[—Come home to me.]
Her soul was forcefully ejected from the great dark hall, away from the looming embrace of the Great Black One, away from the shouting Mantara. Someone in the outside world was giving her a breath of life. Someone was sharing their own life force with her. Sacrificing years of their life to save her from complete self-destruction.
Samira lay encased in her own body, unable to move, unable to see who had done such foolish thing for someone like her. The outside world was completely quiet. There were no more sounds of the spirits trying to eat her. A large, warm, callussed hand was stroking her cheek. A feeling of safety washed over her, lulling her with unbearable sleepiness.
Stubbornly, as she always has been, she fought to at least open her eyes or to speak. This warmth felt so familiar but also foreign at the same time. She couldn't recognize the person by her bedside. Was it Farhad? It couldn't be him, he wasn't strong enough to do such a thing. Was it Kaimana? He wouldn't be willing to share his own life force.
Was it—
"...Father...?"
The person never speak to her with a human voice. A thumb was pressing between her brows.
[Peace be upon you, my dear. Sleep.]
And then she was engulfed with dreamless slumber. There was no great hall afterwards. No more Mantara trying to trick her. No more onslaught of spirits. Only peaceful, restful sleep. It wasn't until the rooster had crowed three times and the first nurse came to check on her that Samira finally opened her eyes after being asleep for three days.