-: Pancha Vastra :- ( By Shailu )

[shailu4ever]

 
By the second day, his breathing had improved.
 
The herbs had begun clearing the smoke from his lungs.
 
The burns on his hands still looked terrible, but the redness had faded slightly beneath the salves.
 
“His body is strong,” Mantra told Amma Lakshmi that evening.
 
“Stronger than most.”
 
Amma Lakshmi studied Arjun’s sleeping form carefully.
 
“Yes,” she said softly.
 
“Stronger than most.”
 
Then after a moment she added something else.
 
Something quiet.
Something thoughtful.
 
“The island chose well.”
 
 
On the third morning, Arjun’s fingers twitched for the first time.
 
Mantra noticed immediately.
 
She had been grinding herbs beside the window when she saw the movement beneath the bandages.
 
A faint smile touched her lips.
 
“It seems,” she murmured to the empty room,
 
“our guest is finally returning.”
 
 
Arjun wakes to the scent of crushed herbs and saltwater.
 
For a long moment, he lies perfectly still, suspended somewhere between sleep and consciousness. The air is thick with the earthy fragrance of medicinal plants, turmeric, neem, something bitter and unfamiliar. Beneath it lingers the clean, restless smell of the ocean.
 
Waves roll somewhere nearby.
 
He can hear them clearly.
 
A steady rhythm of water striking shore.
 
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
 
For a moment, his mind refuses to move past that simple sound.
 
Then sensation returns.
 
Pain arrives first.
 
It spreads through him like a slow-moving fire. His hands throb violently beneath layers of bandages. His chest aches with every breath, as though his lungs are bruised from the inside. His throat burns when he swallows, dry and raw.
 
Fragments of memory flicker through his mind.
 
Rain.
Lightning.
Fire exploding across the roof of the granary.
Smoke swallowing the world.
Nine voices screaming.
 
Arjun’s eyes snap open.
 
The ceiling above him is unfamiliar, smooth wooden beams polished to a dark sheen, carved with delicate patterns that look almost ceremonial. Strands of silk hang along the walls in deep crimson and gold, stirring faintly in the breeze.
 
Sunlight pours through a wide window.
 
Beyond it stretches an endless horizon of blue sky and ocean.
 
The sight is so peaceful it feels almost unreal.
 
For a few seconds, Arjun simply stares at it, trying to piece together the gap in his memory.
 
Then the realization hits him.
 
The fire.
The granary collapsing.
The ninth woman in his arms.
 
Did that actually happen?
 
Or did his mind invent it while he lay unconscious?