Aru Shah and the End of Time (Pandava Quartet #1)(60)

“The third eldest liked a little of everything, so I made sure nothing escaped his interest.”

The final image was a room full of soft light.

“And wise and beautiful Draupadi, wife to the five brothers—what she wanted most of all was peace. I tried to grant her wish, but the closest I could muster was light.”

The images faded.

“How fitting that I am called the Palace of Illusions when all I have left are memories. Perhaps memories are the grandest illusion of all,” said the palace quietly. And then, in a voice even softer and smaller: “In my memories, they seemed so happy with me.”

Pity twisted through Aru. But it was quickly erased when the twin braziers flickered back to life.

“And now you wish to spoil those memories, too? Taunt me with the idea that the Pandavas have returned?”

“We didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” said Mini. Her eyes shone.

“Not returned so much as been reincarnated,” said Aru. “There’s a difference. I didn’t even remember that we had a house! Honest.”

The house shivered.

“You,” it started sniffling, “are saying that I’m not worth remembering?”

“No!” Aru winced. “Not at all!”

Mini scowled at Aru and bent down to rub one of the tiles like you would a dog’s belly. “No, no,” she said soothingly. “What she means is, we don’t really have much of a memory about our past lives! We didn’t even know we were Pandavas until, like, last week.”

“I have never let anyone past these halls that was not a Pandava, or a guest of a Pandava.”

More dust fell on Aru. Yup. It was definitely pulverized bone. She tried not to gag.

A scroll of parchment unraveled from the ceiling. Thousands upon thousands of names were written on it. The ink dripped down the paper before puddling on the floor.

“Ah, so sorry, but you’re not on the list,” said the palace. There was a malicious tinge to its voice now. “So I suppose you’ll just have to prove that you really are Pandavas.”

Once more, the house shook. The walls flashed with different colors. No longer was Aru staring at the ruins of a palace. Now she was in the middle of a forest.

But it wasn’t real. The illusion—as she had to keep reminding herself—felt so real that the grass even prickled beneath her feet. Fireflies drifted drowsily through the evening air. The jungle had that smell of overripe fruit that had fallen and gone uneaten.

“Whoa,” she breathed, turning to Mini.

But Mini wasn’t there.

“Hey! Where—?” Aru spun around wildly. She was all alone. Around her, the forest began to laugh. Leaves fell down on her slowly. Cruelly. Each leaf that touched her skin left a tiny wound the size of a paper cut.

“I told you that if you wanted to get through me, you’d have to prove yourself a Pandava,” murmured the forest that was not a forest but a palace. “Arjuna was the greatest hero who ever lived.”

Aru thought that was a rather sweeping statement to make. The greatest? Really?

In front of her, a bow and arrow appeared on the ground.

Oh no.

She didn’t even know how to use a bow. Did you string it? Notch it? Aru cursed.

She should have paid more attention when she was watching Lord of the Rings last week. Maybe if she’d looked at how Legolas used a bow instead of, you know, just looking at Legolas, she would’ve been a little bit more prepared.

“Are you truly a Pandava brother, or are you just a liar?”

“What do you want me to do with this?” Aru said, gesturing at the bow.

“Simple, little pinch of mortality: If you aim true, you’ll escape this illusion. If you don’t, well, you’ll die. Don’t worry, we can make this whole ordeal go much more quickly. Watch.”

As he spoke, the fireflies began to grow brighter. Heat filled the air. Aru’s eyes widened.

The fireflies were made of actual fire.





…And Then Came the Horde of Godzilla-Size Fireflies


Silence settled over the forest.

“Mini!” screamed Aru.

Was this illusion different from the others? Was it a physical thing, or something living in her mind? Aru squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them quickly. Nothing. She thought the illusion would be like a creepy glitchy thing, as if one moment she’d see the illusion and the other moment she’d see the reality.

“Mini?” Aru called again.

On the ground, the bow and arrow taunted her.

“Hey, palace!” she called. “If you let me out, I’ll wash your windows!”

Still no reply.

“Fine, roll around in filth for all I care!”

Something burned her toe. “OW!”

It was one of the fireflies.

At first, the fireflies had simply floated through the darkness, heating the air. But then they’d begun to land on the boulders and the branches of the giant forest. Now it looked like a golden net had been stretched over the forest, but it was eerily still.

The smell of something charred hit her. A burnt circle appeared right next to her toe.

“Oh no,” said Aru softly.

Whatever the fireflies touched, they kindled.

At her back, she heard crackling, the sound of brush catching fire. Smoke plumed into the air. The fireflies reflected off the shiny forest leaves, looking like possessed Christmas lights.