The day after the war was over, it started with the cries of the birds, singing in merriment. But my death brought a devastating truth. Like me, the avatars realized that their purpose was over. Having purged the earth of evil, having battled the greatest Asura, having saved the creation and changed the course of destiny, they had come to the conclusion that this was the end of their journey on earth.

In the last council meeting, each bowed to the King and Queen, asking their permission to depart after settling back in the holy city. With me and my mother gone, the rest of the children had no cause to follow and found themselves unneeded.

Despite how much they loved and honored the avatars, there was no objection from either monarch. They understood and merely thanked each and everyone wholeheartedly.

The wounded were treated while the dead were given appropriated funerals. The soldiers had collected wood and the bodies from the battlefield. The funeral pyre was built into heaps, high and higher. In the end, oil and fire did their work, and everything was put to rest.

The King made sure to give honor to the braves, who fought so gallantly. He was a man of compassion and wanted to give every one of his subjects a deserved praise. But his face looked older. Through the victory, he was also saddened of it, and this sadness had aged him. He and his wife remained grim for the rest of the time.

The skies were filled with smoke and incense smell. Arriving at the altar to pray, the priests gave their blessings for the dead to pass the threshold between worlds. The dead must leave to the underworld for their judgment before moving to their next lives.

The last day, the other kings and their armies broke camp for their return home. The whole time, Amarisa still remained within the tent where my body lay. A huge emptiness burrowed inside her heart, trying to swallow her.

Her mother comforted her with gentle caresses and kisses.

"Death is natural like breathing, daughter," she said softly. "Her life does not end here, and merely goes on into the next one."

Indeed, as a learned woman, the Queen understood the universality of death. But how can the princess tell her how it feels to remain in the world when her soulmate's no longer here? Amarisa gave no answer as her spirit was withering away.

The King stepped into the tent a while later.

"We are ready to leave for the city," he told them then looked at his beloved daughter with saddened eyes.

"How is she?" he asked his wife.

"Time is the best reliever of love pains," the Queen answered with a deep sigh.

The King nodded back and knelt down beside his daughter. He followed her unblinking eyes. He put a gentle arm around her. Amarisa said nothing. But slowly, she leaned her head back against the hard chest of her father. And another bout of crying tore from her throat.

"I know you're grieving terribly, but try to honor her memory by being strong, my dear girl," the King spoke and stroked her head.

"Father, I love her," the princess said. "Now she is no more, and what is left is eternal suffering for me alone."

This emotion was fully understood, and the two parents empathized with her deeply.

"We shall give her a funeral worthy of her greatness," the King promised. "And she shall be in our hearts for the rest of our days."

When they left, Amarisa wept and lay down beside me, wrapping her lovely arms around my frozen dead shell and sobbed even more. She held me all night long, pressing her lips every now and then against my cold cheek.

~*~

On the way back to the city, they brought me back on an enormous golden ornate carriage.

Amarisa stroked my face before she kissed me again. I was shrouded in gorgeous golden silk, and all around me were flowers, lotuses, and jasmines. By custom, a golden mask was then set over my face. A golden mask was only given to a deceased royalty.

Though the path was tiring, she could not be persuaded to leave my side. My body showed no signs of decay, but it was only a matter of time that it would emit the smell. Amarisa didn't seem to care.

The procession was silent and lonely. Each of my friends kept to their private mourning. No one spoke. The gods were silent, and the world seemed to come to a halt.

It felt as if this bleak day would go on like this forever.

Upon arriving edge of the walled city, they were greeted with an endless shower of flowers and welcoming. But the sight of my chariot sobered the festive mood.

Back in the palace, they saw a magnificent crematorium that wasn't there before. The place was erected for a royal funeral by the look of it. My mother, Queen Jayarajadevi, was cremated there. The King and Queen wept when they saw its gold-gilded roof from afar. They wished they could see her face one last time before she passed. But the cruel war forbade them.

Then it was Amarisa's turn to cry. The grief and sorrows had doubled within her tormented heart. Everyone was afraid she might render herself unconscious with all the crying.

~*~

Another mournful day went by. The princess had insisted to bring me back to our quarter. She would not eat or drink. The maids brought in the lamps that drew out the darkness. She did not see them or notice when the sun had set.

Inside the private chamber, she and Malis stayed together, huddling in quiet mourning where they lay my body.

When she fell asleep for the first time since my death, she dreamed of me.

Nikita, Nikita. Her whimpering whispers lingered in the air. Her head tossed and her body shuddered in the fitful sleep.

I reached out and touched her, or tried to.

Amarisa, I said, forgive me for leaving.

"No, no! Don't go! No!" she cried, already awoke in tears. When she saw that I was still dead, she broke down crying again.

Out of desperate longing, Amarisa made herself go through the few possessions which I owned. Nothing but a bag of strange-looking items I brought to her world. She flipped through the pages of my drawings, remembering the good old days we shared and wiped her eyes off tears, fearing that they would stain and ruin the works that were now so precious to her.

One certain picture stood out and halted the overflowing stream of thoughts in her mind.

She remembered the image of the spiral and the tale I told her about it. With a quickened heart, she ordered the maids to search what they had brought from my tent. They found under the pile of silks and furs was a wooden chest. The princess opened it and beheld a bright crystal inside.

Chandramonki Moni was given by the moon god himself, and it remained hidden until now. She wondered why I hid it. What would be my thoughts on doing so?

Amarisa immediately went to her royal parents. The next sunrise, they consulted the oracle regarding the moonstone and the mysterious drawing.

Without the usual ritual, the oracle told them what they should do without delay.

"She must be sent back to her realm before it's too late," the Hora said.

"Why is it so?" Amarisa spoke with a hint of fear.

"As you already know, the Prophesied One was not from our world," he said. "Her spirit would remain here as the commonly lost soul and not one who is still living. Therefore, we must set her free to where she belongs."

"You mean that she is still alive somewhere in another realm?"

"Only the Great Lord of Time knows of her fate," the Oracle said.

"But how do we accomplish such a feat?" the King asked. "My first Queen is gone, and I have no knowledge of how to summon the gods."

"Worry no more, Your Majesty. Before the chaste Queen passed away, she left behind the message from the Great Lord himself," the Guru spoke for the first time. "The message is forbidden to be spoken out loud as it is the secret of the gods, but we would dutifully assist you in the task."

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Amarisa looked up again, her eyes shone. Something had shifted in her heart. Something began to take shape in her mind. She realized that now she had an unexpected task to complete. Though it did not stop her sorrows, she understood what ought to be done. It somewhat gave her strength.

"Then we must hurry," she said.

~*~

The few days that followed, the King went to the quarry to make sure, that his trusted architects and stonemasons would carve out a stone large enough, that the handymen would follow a blueprint of the drawing and oracle's special instructions.

The Hora and the Guru along with their Brahmins would bless each stone that was delivered.

The King urged the workers to double their speed. It was a race against time for it was nearing the seventh day since my passing.

My friends still wept when they came to pay their respect. There were too many fond memories. How amazing it seemed to them with their victories, their adventures, their moments of glory. Now their hearts were branded with a hot iron of guilt.

But I did not want them to live with regrets. It was meant to be, and I had whole-heartedly accepted my fate. I wanted them to grow past grief to wisdom.

It was heartbreaking seeing Amarisa shrinking with sadness every day. As much as her love brought me happiness, I dreaded her tears. Dreaded them because now I couldn't wipe them away.

Now I was like a tiny boat rocking unmoored on the shore of a vagueness, helpless as to where the current would take me next.