Aru Shah and the End of Time

by Roshani Chokshi

  Mini nodded, threw back her shoulders, and pushed open the door.

  Aru walked in after her. The stone door closed behind them, cutting off the sound of the waterfall and leaving a deep silence. Was this how everyone had once entered the palace of the Pandavas? For a moment, Aru wondered about the life she had apparently lived thousands of years ago. How many times had her former self run into the hard waterfall? Or maybe Arjuna had never hit his head on anything. It didn’t make any sense how they could share the same soul and be completely different.

  Beneath her feet, dust caked the palace floor. She caught the sheen of lapis lazuli tiles that must have been brilliant in their day. Now they were cracked. The air had that unstirred quality of an abandoned house.

  Or a mausoleum.

  “I bet it was really pretty once,” said Mini.

  Aru grimaced as she looked around her. Some dust—at least she hoped it was dust and not pulverized skeletons or something equally gross—fell onto her shoulder from the crumbling ceilings. “Yeah…once.”

  “Huh. What’s this?” asked Mini.

  She touched a cobwebbed torch on the wall. Aru wondered if this was going to be one of those Indiana Jones moments and now the floor was going to open up beneath them.

  Instead, the torch glowed.

  “Mini, ‘what’s this’ is never a good question in a movie—”

  But she didn’t get a chance to finish. Around them, the air began to crackle. The shadowy palace halls brightened as torches flickered to life along all the walls.

  And then the sound of cantering hooves thundered through the palace. For one sparkling moment, Aru wondered whether Indra’s seven-headed horse was coming to save them and get them out of here. Instead, a herd of horses charged toward them. If a herd of horses were charging at her in any other situation, Aru would have turned and run. But these horses weren’t like any she’d ever seen.

  For one thing, they were made of rose petals. Their eyes were bloodred blossoms, and their floral manes were the luminous pink of dawn. When they opened their mouths to neigh, Aru saw that their teeth were tightly furled white buds.

  But when they got about a foot away from Aru, they burst. Petals rained down. In their wake, she could smell wildflowers and fresh rain. It would have been pleasant if it hadn’t been for the walls shaking soon after, and the deep, dark sound echoing around them:

  “WHO DARES DISTURB THE PEACE OF THIS HOME?”

  My Home, Not Yours! No Touchie!

  “Technically, it’s our home,” said Aru.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t—” started Mini.

  Suddenly both of them were slammed, hard, against a wall by an unseen wind.

  “Your home?” repeated the voice.

  It took a moment for Aru to realize that it wasn’t some dude skulking in the shadows who was talking, but the palace itself. It shook with laughter. More dust (or pulverized skeletons, Aru was beginning to think was more likely) fell down on them. Hundreds of lights flashed on the walls. It looked a little like a movie theater coming to life. Except here, the broken tiles began to arrange themselves. They rolled across the floor until they formed a smile. Two bright braziers sparked alive, slanting into eyes.

  “I do not think so,” said the palace. “This was once the seat of the Pandava brothers and their wife, Draupadi. You mere pinches of mortality are nothing compared to them. You cannot possess me!”

  All the torches in the palace guttered at once. It was hard to remember that this was the Palace of Illusions and not of, say, nightmares.

  Aru took Mini’s hand and tried to reassure her. “Whatever happens, it’s not real.”

  “I think you should leave, little pinches,” said the palace.

  The ceiling quaked. Wind blew in their faces. The ground beneath them glowed strangely, as if they were standing over an aquarium. An illusion flickered to life on the ground, showing a rocky cliff that dropped off into the sea.

  “It’s not real, it’s not real,” whispered Aru under her breath.

  A gigantic shark swam up right under her feet. It grinned and looked like it was saying, Come on in, the water’s great! Aru squeezed her eyes shut and gripped Mini’s hand even harder.

  “We’re—we’re not going anywhere!” called out Mini. She had to draw in great big gulps of air to get the words out.

  “Don’t you recognize us?” shouted Aru. It was easier to be brave (or fake bravery) with her eyes closed. At least that way she didn’t have to see the shark. She was pretty sure it was tying a napkin around its neck, clapping its fins, and saying, Dinner, dinner, dinner!

  “We are the Pandavas!” said Mini. “We’ve got the souls of Yudhistira and Arjuna!”

  “What?! Don’t say that! It sounds like we’ve kidnapped them!”

  “I mean…” shouted Mini. “We’re the daughters of the Dharma Raja and Lord Indra!”

  The wind stopped roaring. The fires sputtered to smoldering embers. When Aru opened her eyes, the floor was just that: a floor.

  “You lie,” hissed the palace.

  The actual words came from every direction. She even saw letters bubbling up like blisters on her skin: L-I-A-R. She winced, but the red marks vanished. Just another illusion.

  “When the Pandavas left,” said the palace, “they bade farewell to all except the one thing that had given them shelter and watched over them as they slept. Was my beauty not enough to tempt them to stay? My illusions were forged of the same stuff that made up their dreams. I was their dream home. Literally. But still they left. So why should I believe they would come back?”

  The palace smelled sour. As if it was sulking.

  Aru didn’t think it was possible to sympathize with a palace, and yet she did. Before now she had never thought about how a house must feel when its family stuck a FOR SALE sign on the lawn and then packed up and left. If the palace could be sad, did that mean her apartment missed her? Now she really wanted to run to the museum and hug a pillar.

  “I’m…I’m so sorry you felt left behind,” said Mini carefully. “Maybe they—I mean, we left you a note? But I promise we’re not lying about who we are. You see, we’ve got urgent business and need to get through the other side of the palace.”

  “Why?” it asked.

  The ceiling caved inward. When Aru squinted, it looked a bit like a frowny face. And then it blazed red.

  Maybe not a frowny face. Maybe more of a fury face.

  “Because we need to save the world,” said Aru. “If there’s no world, what’s going to happen to you?”

  A wall of fire sprang up in front of Aru.

  “You’re horrifyingly rude!” said the palace. “Is this what I have missed out on during all these millennia in the depths of Death’s kingdom? Well, then, I’m not sorry. Not a whit.”

  “Please,” said Mini. “Just let us through. This was the only way in from the forest.”

  “Ah, I miss my true forest,” said the palace fondly. “I am hewn from its trees. Sand from those puddles sealed my cracks. My woods once wriggled with deplorable things. When the Pandavas decided to build their home, the creatures were banished. The great architect king Mayasura’s life was spared in exchange for building them a palace the likes of which no one had ever seen: me.”

  The wall of fire disappeared, revealing a most magnificent hall. Tall living statues studded with jewels paced back and forth. One of them had a glass belly that housed a miniature library.

  “The eldest Pandava liked to read,” the palace recalled wistfully. “But he had trouble choosing a room to read in. So I made sure his bed could float anywhere and books could be brought to him.”

  The walls were covered with thinly beaten gold, and the floor was a marvel of mirrors and sapphire pools.

  “The youngest liked to admire himself, so I made sure there were plenty of places where he might catch glimpses of his beauty.”

  A lush garden dripped from the ceiling, eclipsing the previous illusion. Glass vials and sheaves of parchment
dotted a worktable.

  “The second youngest liked the sciences, so I made sure there was always an abundance of living things to study.”

  A stadium unfurled in front of them. It contained spinning wheels, moving targets, and racetracks that curved from the floor to the ceiling.

  “The second eldest liked to test his strength, so I made sure he had challenging arenas.”

  The next image showed a mishmash of all the items from the previous illusions.

  “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.

  Aru swiped the bow and arrow from the ground and took off running.

  The fireflies followed close behind. A flame nearly scorched her ear.

  Aru dove behind a rock and peeked out. The forest was on fire. Literally. Metaphorically. All the–allys.

  She fumbled with the bow and arrow. They were abnormally heavy and awkward. The arrow alone must have weighed as much as her backpack on a Monday before Christmas break.

  “There—” she grunted, “is—no—way—this—is—going—to—work—”

  Finally, she slid the arrow into place. This shouldn’t be difficult. Katniss and Legolas made it look easy enough. She plucked at the heavy string. It cut her fingers.

  “Owowow!” she wailed, dropping the bow and arrow.

  What did the palace mean? If you aim true, you’ll escape. Aim at what? She looked around, scanning the tops of the forest trees and the branches underneath. But there was no target.

  How could she possibly be like Arjuna? She couldn’t even pull a bowstring, let alone do one of his famous feats, like shoot an arrow through the eye of a fish just by looking at its reflection. Even the Ping-Pong ball in her pocket was of no help in this situation.

  “Exit…If I were an exit, where would I hide?”

  She was beginning to feel uncomfortably warm. Was that a swarm of insects coming her way? Or was it just her imagination? Aru snuck a second glance from her hiding spot behind the rock.

  Nope. It was definitely not her imagination.

  The fireflies had converged into what looked like one great big glowing bug. It pulsed with fire. With one flap of its wings, three trees turned to smoking ash.

  Aru uttered a word that, at school, would have gotten her thrown into detention for a week.

  The firefly-nightmare-monstrosity flew closer. Aru bolted from the rock and sped into the deep thicket of trees. The shadows of a thousand fires loomed in front of her. Heat glowed on her back, and still Aru ran.

  She flew past a valley of boulders and stumpy trees and found a stream flowing from the mouth of a cave. Aru jumped into the water and winced. This was t
he problem with creeks. They looked so inviting, but beneath the water, the ground was always sharp and slick. Jagged rocks punctured the bottoms of her feet as she waded toward the cave.

  Once she got there, Aru plopped down on the cold, wet floor of the cave to catch her breath. She could still hear the bzzz bzzz of insect wings nearby.

  “How awful is my life that I’m hoping for a giant fiery toad to come and eat the giant fiery fly?” she muttered.

  She examined the soles of her feet. For an illusion, this was sickeningly realistic. Her physical condition—cut-up skin and a heart trying to break free of her ribs—didn’t feel fake. And even if all of this was fake, not even her fake self wanted to be the victim of a giant fake bug.

  If Mini were here, she could make an enchantment of a giant shoe and squash the nightmare creature. Once again Aru found herself missing Boo big-time. He’d know what to do. At the very least, his constant stream of insults would help distract her.

  FOCUS, Shah!

  Aru tugged her hair. Think, think, think. But brains are uncooperative. At that moment, the only thing running through her head was the tagline of a commercial for acne cream: Don’t pop and poke! Try Dr. Polk’s!

  “Pop and poke,” she sang in an off-key, slightly panicked voice.

  She reached beside her for the arrow.

  Her hand hit cold stone.

  Arrow…

  She turned, scanning the cave floor. But there was nothing around her but wet rocks.

  The memory flashed painfully in her head: she had left the arrow behind when she fled the burning forest.

  Around her, the cave began to warm up. Steam wafted off the creek. A cloud of fireflies appeared at the mouth of the cave. The heat became harsher, the light brighter. Aru clawed at her throat. It was getting harder to breathe.

  Aru had no arrow. No athletic prowess.

  No hope.

  She started nervously scratching at her neck and felt something cold there. The monsoon pendant! Monsoon had said it would hit any target. But what exactly was she supposed to aim at?

  If you aim true, you’ll escape this illusion.