I'm all alone.

It was an eerie thought, something she cursed herself for realizing when she became aware of the complete isolation she was in. Her spine tingled as she clutched the bag of herbs tied to her wrist, as though it would be powerful enough to save her from an attack from an asura. Savitri was emboldened only with the knowledge that she had approval from her in-laws, though their blessings were tame at best and guarded at worst, shrouded in despair over the loss of their son.

She recalled her interaction with them. They lived a few trees away from the alcove where Dharmaraja made his presence known, and she begrudgingly admitted to herself that he'd granted her first two wishes without failure. The pale, almost translucent eyes of Dyumatsena, her father-in-law, shone with weary wisdom that surpassed his years, overshadowed by grief that darkened the bright chestnut irises like storm clouds veiling a mountain.

Understand that even the bravest of kshatriyas are mere ants under the sandal of Death, his words, a deep timbre that still resonated within her spine, made Savitri's footsteps falter. Her determination wavered, punctured by an arrow of doubt. If a kshatriya could not outsmart Dharmaraja, then what good would she be? After all, according to her Baba, her Baba's advisors, and nearly every royal she'd met, even Satyavan, a princess wasn't made for fighting.

No. I mustn't let these doubts lead me astray. She straightened, planting her sandals firmly into the dirt. I have made a promise, and a princess doesn't go back on her word. Melancholy is for the fools.

It was a bitter irony, recalling her father's last, gasping words, the only time he'd ever spoken to her without as much of a scoff or reproach. He would have a second coronary had he known she was at least ten miles from her marital home.

Under the wicked grin of the sun, her stomach corded into tight knots that not even the strongest kshatriya could untangle. Her memories plummeted into the cavern of her mind where she'd thrust the snapshots of life she'd taken with Satyavan. Moments of peace, watching him chop wood while she'd weave blades of grass to make bowls and trays; dark nights where the stars illuminated a speckled pattern over them like hot beads on their skin as they laid in tranquility.

Passing a row of mossy trees, Savitri recalled her father explaining the geographical use of moss, one of the few lessons he'd imparted to her that he somehow deemed was vital information for a princess. Self preservation was futile, but knowing where moss populated was important for any guarded princess, of course. She could only scoff at the irony. Perhaps he knew she was destined to disappoint her. She was a pawn among the rooks and knights he could afford to lose.

Her bitterness toward the past, encapsulating fragments of memories vanished, and in return the wave of solemnity that made her want to tear the earth apart and force Bhumi Devi to take her as well.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she had never been anywhere apart from the hut before, or the palace, when she lived with her father. Satyavan, when he wasn't taking care of his parents, obsessed about keeping her safe and keeping her inside of the house. As newlyweds, she didn't blame him. The forest didn't know her yet, and she didn't know the forest. There could have been so many demons that could have attacked her had she wandered out on her own without Satyavan. But he always protected her, even from the slightest injury.

"What could he be doing right now?" She wondered aloud. A restless soul such as himself surely wouldn't be able to sit idly. Had he already gone to Indra's palace? Certainly, he belonged there, but if so, then breaching Indra's abode would be more arduous than entering Naraka.

A part of her hoped that Satyavan was still in Dharmaraj's realm, even if it left a bitter taste in her mouth to admit so. It would be much easier to reach him than it would be with Indra, not to mention that Dharmaraja employed a sense of fairness. As benevolent as the scriptures described him to be, Savitri knew that Indra, in comparison, was quite spoiled and could be irrational at times.

At least, that was what her father had told her.

Satyavan would have loved to explore this place, she thought, briefly running her fingers over the smooth green moss that covered the wrinkled trees. Her heart swelled with warmth and her eyes watered again, but just as she had done before, Savitri shoved her tears away and continued on, dispelling Satyavan's image from her mind.

Deciding that the best thing to do was distract herself, she focused on the surroundings she walked through, soaking in every inch of color and texture. The rocks under her feet were smooth and a bit damp and the dirt sifted through her toes like streams of water. She had never seen dirt so brown; it rivaled the color of her eyes. The trees were as green as the ones in her kingdom and drifted over her head. They wove themselves into the locks of her ink-colored hair like a crown, and for a small moment, a giddy sensation swept Savitri up and she spun around, frolicking in the prickly bushes and jumping over the crooked tree roots.

Yes, Satyavan would truly enjoy this, she thought as her pace slowed to its original trot. Somehow it seemed that nightfall was reluctant to cover the Earth that day, but the trees provided her with relief from the boiling sun. Ironic as it was, Savitri found the glow to be quite vexatious, at least, ever since Satyavan had gone.

She stopped dancing suddenly as her previous misery dawned on her; as though realizing that the branch she clung to wasn't the warm, comforting hand of her husband. She had no time to play – her duty had to be completed. Stopping, she brushed the leaves out of her hair and stepped over them as they fluttered to the ground, dainty and delicate like the dancers of her father's court. He'd wanted her to train in classical dance, she remembered, and was particularly angry when she tried to join her cousins in their archery lessons.

The forest seemed to be leading her nowhere but deeper into its arms, and Savitri lamented the fact that she didn't bring a map with her. Relying on the moss and hiding sun were no way to get to Dharmaraja's kingdom.

And yet she kept on going.

Memories of Satyavan propelled her to continue despite the cuts on her feet and the aching of her legs.

Suddenly, laughter echoed through the crooked lines of trees and Savitri froze. Her back tensed and every muscle in her body twitched, as if to prepare itself for the oncoming attack. She briefly cursed herself for not taking any weapons with her to protect herself, but once she saw who was approaching her, relief swept over her and she relaxed.

Sage Narada was an impish looking man. He had the face of a young, mischievous boy and was always smiling down from his angular nose. His dark hair swished around his head like a damp curtain – tied half up in a bun and let loose. He wore a simple orange dhoti and a shawl that draped itself around both of his elbows. His necklaces and earrings were made out of Tulsi beads and the only larger piece of jewelry that he wore (if one could call it that) was the colorful garland necklace around his neck. Strapped diagonally on his body was the veena, a pale orange, pear shaped lute, and in his hand was the khartal, one that he clapped everytime he started a new sentence.

"Narayana, Narayana," he grinned, chanting the name of Lord Vishnu. "I see you have begun your quest already, dear Savitri."

Savitri bowed and touched the sage's feet. "Narada Muni," she murmured.

He blessed her. "Narayana, Narayana." His gaze was penetrative on her, saddened but layered with pity that made Savitri bristle. "You haven't gotten very far, have you? Do you know where you are going?"

Keeping her hands flat on each other, Savitri rose and shook her head. "No, sir," she said. "But I am hopeful to reach my destination soon."

Narada smiled somberly. "Let us pray that you do, Narayana, Narayana," he said quietly. He paused. "My dear princess, why are you torturing yourself?"

Savitri frowned. "What do you mean, sir?"

"You are a maharaja's daughter," he said, gesturing to the sky. "Born a princess, Savitri, you could have had anything that you desired in the palace, Narayana, Narayana."

"What is it that I could have had, sir?"

"Ladies in waiting, beautiful clothes, jewelry," Narada listed. His hazel eyes glowed with an ethereal warmth, exuding confort, curiosity, and the slightest hint of mischief, visible through a dark spec between colors.

"You could have been married to a wealthy kshatriya or yuvraj." He tilted his head. "So, why Satyavan? Why waste your time when you can have what you were born with, Narayana, Narayana."

Savitri bit her lip to keep her teeth from audibly gnashing. "With all due respect, sir," she began, "I do not have any desire for those materialistic things. I respect my father and his achievements greatly, but they are of no meaning to me. I value my husband the most in my life."

"And yet, he is no longer with us, Narayana, Narayana." Narada bent his head in respect to Satyavan. "Excuse my bluntness, my child, but I warned you of the consequences of marrying Satyavan the day you came to the forest, had I not?"

"Yes, sir," Savitri agreed, a cloud of prickly heat collecting behind her eyes. "I understand the reasons you gave me, but I...I loved Satyavan. It would be a sin to marry someone that I did not love."

"That may be true," Narada agreed, though his expression conveyed a continued sense of doubt. Savitri shuffled uncomfortably. "But it is also a sin to disrupt the balance of power between life and death, Savitri. You must cherish what you still have, Narayana, Narayana."

"I have nothing left." Savitri tried not to sound distraught. "My husband is no longer with me."

Narada frowned. "Alright," he sighed. "Let us say that you somehow manage to find Lord Dharmaraja's kingdom. What shall you do then? Confront him for doing his job?"

"Yes." Savitri nodded surely. "He did his job, sir, now I am doing mine."

"That is true, you are both completing your duties," Narada said. "But what I am trying to explain to you, Savitri, is that there is more to life than chasing after things that are already gone. I admire your devotion to Satyavan, but say that you do reach Dharmaraja and confront him. Then what? What will you do? Overpower a God?"

"Well...no..." Savitri hesitated, her words hanging in the air like the leaves balancing above her. Perhaps she hadn't thought her plan through entirely.

Narada watched her thoughtfully, studying her shifty eyes as she debated his question.

"I will think of something," she finally decided. "I have some time. I may not be trained in combat but I have my wits and my love. They are enough to reclaim my husband."

"Quite," he muttered. "Then say that you are unable to rescue Satyavan? Then what?"

"Then I shall go with him, as I have told my in-laws."

"And who will protect them? Who will care for them if both of their children are gone?"

"My father will," Savitri said after a beat of hesitation. "He...he loves me, so he will love them as well." Her tongue went dry, physically recoiling as though she were trying to contain the truth behind her teeth.

"The future begs to disagree," Narada sighed to himself. "Listen to me, Savitri–!"

"Sir." She interrupted him quietly. "I respect what you are saying, but as I've said before, I am righting a wrong. Satyavan's death was unfair."

"This was his dharma, Savitri, his duty. We cannot upend a prophecy. You were educated well on that," Narada said. "He knew just as much as you did that he was going to die."

"Unfairly," Savitri repeated again. She straightened and her jaw feathered with a tick of annoyance she managed to suppress under her carefully crafted smile; courtesy of years of tutelage under the most intense, intelligent tutors. "It is not dharma, it is a foolish, wrongful prophecy that has killed my husband. The scriptures say that we must right all wrongs – I am simply following the Lord's directions. Now move out of my way."

A lapse, followed by Narada's arched brow, made Savitri recall her place in front of the immortal deity and she bowed. "Sir," she added respectfully, her cheeks burning with indignation even though her eyes were set with resolution.

She turned and began to walk away. Narada watched her go sadly, helplessly, with a gaze full of pity. He had tried, that's what he would tell Lord Vishnu, but he knew that the benevolent God would only nod and smile. He knew what would happen, and usually, Narada would know, but that part of the future had been blurred; it was something that he was still trying to unravel.

So, with no other options left, Narada called out to Savitri once more.

"Seek out the blessings of Sage Durvasa before you continue your quest. He may have something that will help you."

She paused, momentarily contemplating if he was tossing another attempt to keep her from continuing her quest, then reluctantly nodded, unwilling to defy a powerful sage such as Narada. "Alright. Thank you, sir."

She bowed again, and Narada watched her leave, his somber expression melting into an impish little smile before a warm golden glow covered him and in a bright flash, he was gone, leaving only a trail of colorful chrysanthemums in his wake.

~***~

It was easy to spot Sage Durvasa 's hermitage.

Savitri, still reeling from the conversation that she had with Sage Narada, walked in somewhat of a daze throughout the forest. She traveled through the entire night, mindlessly walking with no particular idea where she was going, except that she had to find Sage Durvasa 's hermitage.

She had heard about the reputation of the powerful sage. Having completed many fasts and prayers, he had accumulated an arsenal of mystical powers that he had used on humans, demigods, asuras, and gods alike. He was as feared as any incarnation of Vishnu, yet he was also equally as known for his benevolence...when one did not incite his infamous temper. Savitri needn't be reminded of the disruption he'd caused when Lord Indra, the King of the Heavens, had disrespected him.

So he's quite confusing, she thought with a small, tired laugh. Her eyes dipped with fatigue and her gait had slowed to a pathetic trot, but she persisted. Nevertheless, I must proceed with caution. Sage Durvasa is known for his unsympathetic temper. I cannot incur his wrath.

As the early morning dew began to evaporate into mystical sparkles and late morning rose above the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of mellow pinks and reds, Savitri decided to pause her journey to take a sip of water from a nearby lake. She hadn't taken a bottle with her, but that didn't matter. Peeling a leaf from one of the trees, she folded the shape until it formed something similar to a cup. She bent down so that the rim of her dress was dipped neatly into the water, and as she sipped the cool liquid, a flash of gold and green caught her eye.

"What...?" She turned, finding herself face to face with a pair of large, dark brown eyes. Savitri wasn't sure if they were naturally big or if they were just enlarged from their proximity, but either way, she yelped and stumbled backward.

"Oh!" A hand shot out, grasping her arm before she fell backward into the lake. Savitri gripped him tightly, holding with as much strength as she could until she was stable on her feet again.

"Sorry." The man smiled sheepishly. "I didn't mean to startle you...actually, I myself was startled and I was just making sure that I wasn't seeing an apsara or asura or anything like that...not that I'm saying that you're an asura, I was just...you know...nevermind."

Savitri frowned. She squeezed the water out of her clothes as she studied the man in front of her. He had the smile of a naive boy, but his physique alluded to years of training and skirmishes, despite not having a mustache. Streams of ink like the fresh lines of crushed kajal curled around his high cheekbones and strong jaw. Savitri almost didn't give him a second glance until she caught the thick, sturdy bow strapped to his back and the singular, golden bangle around his bicep. His plain clothes belied the air of elegance that he effortlessly carried. Savitri wondered if he was a traveling prince in disguise, even though she didn't see any of his guards with him.

That's absurd. Is every good-looking man I meet hereafter going to be a prince? What a ridiculous thought, she mused. He lacks the poise and manners. He's just another forest archer.

Their meeting, though, reminded her of her first interaction with Satyavan, and a shudder, brittle and bitter, skimmed her spine.

"It's okay," she huffed, brushing her clothes to hide the blush that stained her cheeks. "I was also quite startled. I did not mean to interfere in any of your business."

"Oh no!' The man shook his head. "You weren't interrupting anything. I was just letting my curiosity get the better of me, as it usually does."

He laughed, and Savitri thought him to be very handsome when he laughed. It reminded her of Satyavan, when she first moved to the forest and kept making mistakes in her weaving or cooking. This stranger carried the same demeanor her husband had whenever her errors would prolong their meals. Instead, Satyavan would laugh heartily at her undignified (yet adorable, he'd claim) behaviors, just as the man in front of her did.

Her chest ached again. "It's okay," she lied, then straightened herself into a respectful bow. "I'm Savitri, Yuvrani of the Madra Kingdom and...and wife of Yuvraj Satyavan of the Shalwa Kingdom."

"A pleasure to meet you, Savitri." The man bowed. "My name is Suman."

There's no title attached to his name. He's just a mere brahmin boy, or perhaps the son of a charioteer. He certainly shares the physique.

"Suman?" Savitri repeated. He nodded, grinning. "What kingdom are you from? Are you traveling to another place? Where are your guards?"

She couldn't help but ask, regardless of her decision that he was a regular villager. It was unsettling how intrigued she felt toward this stranger, and her gut plummeted when she realized she had a penchant for this type of behavior.

Where are you from? Why do you live in a hut if you are a prince? Do you not carry your kingdom's crest? Her first words upon meeting Satyavan a year ago swamped her mind.

Suman stared at her for a moment, his eyes crinkling in confusion. Then, again, he began to laugh.

Is he laughing at me? Savitri huffed, planting her hands on her hips in annoyance. She hated to admit that his laugh was infectious, easing the sting of her pride, but she couldn't let him see that.

"Why are you laughing at me?" She snapped. "As a nobility, should you not have your guards with you?"

Suman's laughter mellowed to a small chuckle. "Forgive me, my lady," he said, still giggling. "I do not mean to be rude, but it has been a while since I have laughed that way."

"Really? You seem like a man who laughs quite often," she quipped, following his dark eyes as they assessed her. Her stomach fluttered.

Suman shrugged. "On my own," he said, grinning impishly. "But to answer your questions, no, I do not have any guards, nor am I traveling anywhere. This." He opened his arms around the forest. "It's my home."

Savitri refrained from allowing her mouth to drop. It would have been very unflattering if she had.

"Your home?" She repeated, blinking several times and beginning to wonder if he was an asura in disguise; it'd been a long, eerily calm night, after all. "Do you live in the forest?"

"Sort of," Suman replied. "I am a disciple of Sage Durvasa. I was collecting some fruit for him." He gestured to the abandoned straw basket far from the bank of the lake.

"Sage Durvasa?" Savitri perked up. "Does he live nearby? Can you take me to him?"

"I would be more than happy to," Suman responded. He offered his hand to Savitri and helped her out of the bank. "Come. He should be finishing up his prayers soon. If we are lucky we will be able to have breakfast together!" He beamed. "Like a family breakfast!"

"A family breakfast?" Savitri repeated dubiously, unable to discern his carefree smile. He is too naive if he is a yuvraja. "I do not think I can stay for such amusements–"

Her stomach let out a low, persistent growl and she flushed, snapping her jaw shut and avoiding Suman's expression. "Actually." She cleared her throat. "Breakfast sounds quite appealing, thank you."

"Good! Come on, let's go!" His face brightened into a smile that made Savitri realize he was more attractive than she initially pegged him to be.

I am trusting you this time, Narada Muni, she thought as she followed him, already growing dizzy from this amalgamation of grown man and striking enigma of energy. Do not let me stray again.

They began to make their way to Sage Durvasa's ashram.