12. Leela
LEELA
Leela found Iravan the next morning. She’d barely slept, tossing and turning all night wondering about Rajesh, the Viper, and the Scorpion.
She wasn’t sure what time she fell asleep, but she woke with her mind reeling—like she couldn’t escape herself.
Her body was even more restless, her pelvis thudding and her head even more so.
Her mind was beginning to swim with the doubts and darkness, and she needed something to distract herself with.
Anything, perhaps reading with Iravan in the library to find this relic would be perfect.
“Ready to broaden your knowledge?” Iravan asked as he led Leela down a tunnel toward the library.
“Sure,” Leela said, rubbing her eyes. “I feel so inconsequential, not knowing anything.”
Iravan snorted. “Please. You have a Flame inside your head. You’re far from being inconsequential.”
That was a fair point. Leela searched her mind for the Viperess, but she hadn’t heard or felt the Flame since she realized Rajesh harnessed the Scorpion.
Perhaps she was busy plotting her revenge.
Leela felt a pit of dread when she didn’t feel the heat at the top tip of her spine, although it was a great comfort knowing the Viperess wasn’t there.
Iravan led her through the stifling tunnels until they came to a room on the other side of the den. Two wooden doors shadowed them as they neared, decorated with swirls and arches. Iravan entered and waved Leela in.
The library opened into a wide stretch of shelves lining the sandstone walls.
They wandered down an aisle and came upon people chatting and reading scrolls while sitting on the edge of a circular pit, which sat in the center.
Desks carved from stone lined one side of the room, and light blasted in from the glass windows that gazed out toward the mountainous dunes.
“Here,” Iravan said, leading her to a part of the library across from the circular pit. “I’ll find some scriptures to flick through.”
Leela obeyed and sat on the bench at one of the tables carved into the side. She stared at the giant artwork etched into the wall facing the rows of books.
Seven artifacts stared back at her.
Her gut clenched when she stared at the bow and arrow, said to slay any monster—the very weapon she’d hoped to obtain from the rebels. Instead, she wound up being stuck with the Viperess.
While her plans had shifted, Leela still wanted to bring the lustisha down. She hadn’t plotted and planned to escape to not do what she set off to do. She’d just have to find another way to kill it—with or without the Viperess’s help.
“Found one,” Iravan said.
He jolted Leela out of her thoughts and dropped a book beside her. He blew on the wooden cover, dust choking her.
Leela coughed and fanned it away. The Ancient Book of Sands, a thick book bound between two wooden planks sewn together with silk string, stared back at her. The cover featured a beautiful illustration of the same artwork on the library wall.
“We’ve got the only copy in Nihikia. Don’t ruin it,” Iravan said.
“Why do you only have one copy?”
“Each kingdom has one copy of the Ancient Scriptures. It talks about the three realms, the Flames, and how they came to be. Things taught by the priests and their teachings.”
“Amazing.” Leela thought of all the times she’d accidentally spilled wine on papers in her room at the palace. Except there was no wine, and the library was quiet. There was no excuse for ruining the ancient text.
Leela gently grabbed the wooden plank and opened the scripture.
Squinting, she tried to decipher the ancient text; the symbols were unfamiliar.
Although she knew the universal language, her mother believed it wasn’t necessary to teach her a language used for formal occasions and was predominantly only used by men.
Leela knew basic words, but nothing as substantial as what lay before her.
Another thing her mother had stolen from her, and she had chosen survival over her heritage.
But Leela couldn’t be mad at her mother. It was customary in their village, and only the village elders knew the old language and taught it to a select few. Still, it hurt to have missed out on something she could have had connect her to her sense of place.
“Umm, Iravan…?” Leela pondered. “I can’t read it.”
“Oh? Didn’t you learn the old texts from the elders?”
“Only the men were allowed that privilege,” Leela argued.
“Right.” Iravan scratched the back of his head. “Hang on, I think they have the scrolls here somewhere.”
He shuffled off with the scriptures and returned moments later with several scrolls. They clattered in front of Leela. “There are plenty more where this came from. This is only the first seven passages.”
“Oh, wow,” Leela said, gawking at the number before her. “Do I have to read all this?”
“If you want to know your history,” Iravan said. “Didn’t that palace teach you anything?”
Leela scowled. “No. I was locked up and trained to be a wife. I didn’t get the privilege of knowledge.”
Iravan turned away, a gentle blush creeping over his brown cheeks. “Yes. Well, happy reading.”
Sighing, Leela started unfolding the scrolls and read the scriptures in a language she could understand.
Iravan returned with more after she finished the ones he’d given.
He paced back and forth behind her, every now and again reading over her shoulder, which irked her somewhat, but not enough to tell him to fuck off. He was doing her a favor, after all.
By the fourth scroll, Leela finally found something of note. The previous scrolls had taught her about the underlying faiths and the different continents and the traces of magic even before the Flames came to earth.
She picked up one of the scrolls, and her eyes widened. The Seven Artifacts of Fauna and Flora stared back at her in the intricately drawn images along the bottom. Above, the scripture detailed the use of each of them and how they were connected to the Flames and their personal motives.
Leela was more than aware of some of the listed items. The Seven Artifacts of Fauna and Flora were told in the tales they’d spoken around the village fire, the way the Flames used their divinity to defeat the beasts in the Netherworld or one another.
She had often dreamed of eating the fruit that granted any wish from the wish-fulfilling tree or using the bow and arrow to kill the lustisha that ruined her life.
Or even using the conch to call upon anyone, living or dead, to grant her deepest desires.
The poisonous claw was said to kill anything it touched, and the elephant tusk granted unimaginable wisdom to anyone who kissed it.
Leela frowned at the last two artifacts.
“The Gem Necklace,” Iravan said, as if reading her thoughts.
Leela jumped, forgetting he was there. When her heart settled, she replied, “What is it?”
“Each gem fell from a star from the heavens and was trapped in a necklace. It’s said each gem can control a constellation and rewire history or the future.”
Leela read the passage beneath the necklace design, set with seven gems inlaid along the edges.
‘With all seven gems fallen from the heavens, the necklace must be worn by someone worthy of holding such power. The necklace determines worthiness by passing its power to the wearer. If the wearer is unworthy, the necklace will kill them. If the wearer is worthy, the wearer may grasp the power to change past, present, or future.’
Leela tried to form the words. No wonder no one had found these items. If they had all fallen from the Awakening, then people would be hunting for them and using power beyond the imagination. Leela didn’t want to imagine what someone with position and privilege would do.
“What about this one?” Leela asked, almost too scared to ask. She pointed to the last image of a shield.
“Shield of the Damned,” Iravan replied. “Made from the bones of dead Flames, said to be impervious to all attacks.”
Leela shook her head. “And no one has found these?”
“That, or someone already has them all.” Iravan cleared his throat. “I heard some Lord in Jhuna Rin was avidly searching for them.”
Leela met Iravan’s gaze. “Why would they want them?”
Iravan shrugged. “Beats me. Not really my concern.”
“It will be if and when this person gets them all.”
“Jhuna Rin has always been looking for ways to better their forces. They’re the smaller of the desert kingdoms; why wouldn’t they do everything they can to keep themselves afloat? I wouldn’t worry about them. Their military is, well, how do we say it, weak.”
“And you know this all?” Leela asked, arching a brow.
“Seeing as I am part of the council between the kingdoms, yes. I am more than aware of what occurs on the military side of the operations.” Iravan leaned against the table beside Leela, a small leer in the crook of his smile.
“Every few months, the three kingdoms come together with their military forces to talk about the whereabouts of the monsters, death tolls, and the rescuing of civilians. There’s a lot that goes on behind the scenes, Leela. ”
“I can only imagine,” Leela said. “And no one has said anything about finding these artifacts?”
Iravan’s demeanor softened. “No. Trust me, the kingdom have discussed it. We’ve sought these artifacts, but no one has found them. Or they’re amazing liars.”
“I’d say liars,” she snapped. She sighed, not meaning to be so harsh. “Someone knows about these artifacts and they’re keeping them to themselves.”
“You forget how big the world is, Leela. We have people risking their lives across the globe trying to hunt these things down, and no one knows where they are,” Iravan said.
“Whispers and gossip turn on hopes and dreams. It sucks out the soul, and eventually, people lose faith. The people are losing faith.”
Leela sighed and ran a hand through her curls. “Sad. We need faith and hope now more than ever.”
“A few artifacts aren’t going to save us,” Iravan argued. “We have enough weapons and strategies to manage.”
“But wouldn’t it be better to have something better? To flush it all away?”
“Again, hope is the biggest killer of all.”
Leela knew, in the depths of his deep brown eyes, Iravan had lost faith a long time ago.
She’d lost hope multiple times too. It was hard not to.
She lost it when her village was destroyed.
When she lost her family. When she was trained to be a wife and realized there was no escape.
Sure, she had hoped a little, and it grew and grew when she found a way to cope.
But it took a lot of wishing, praying, and useless faith to get anywhere.
Hope was dangerous—as dangerous as a dagger to the throat.