In the southern lands of consciousness, where on one side stretched a golden desert and on the other an endless realm of ice,
there stood a black, decaying palace wrapped in a white shroud of snow —
silent, as if it had been listening to its own screams for centuries.
Inside the palace, several cultivators and battalions of soldiers were stationed.
In one dark chamber, the laughter of Humbha Yakshini echoed —
a cruel laughter, yet as cold and beautiful as ice.
Her host, Mascar, was with her.
The two were lost in each other.
A faint light shimmered through the room,
as if even the walls were holding onto the softness of that moment.
Slow music drifted through the air — each note deepening the silence between them.
They looked into each other's eyes —
and that one glance said everything.
Humbha slid her fingers into his palm — as if it were the beginning of an unspoken promise.
"You… you're really here…"
she whispered softly;
her breath seemed to stop with the words.
Mascar held her face gently and placed a soft kiss upon her lips.
Humbha closed her eyes —
peace and warmth glimmered together across her face.
For a few moments, the room was filled only with the rhythm of their breathing —
slowly, everything grew quiet.
The chamber now bore witness only to two hearts beating in unison.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps came from beyond the door.
Humbha's eyes snapped open —
she instantly knew something was wrong.
She quickly pulled away from Mascar,
gathered her flowing black robe,
and stepped outside.
The soldier standing before her bowed in fear.
The icy sunlight fell upon her black eyes and dark necklace —
making her appear as terrifying as she was beautiful.
The soldier trembled as he spoke,
"My Queen… the two of them… are dead."
Hearing this, Mascar came out of the room, clad in black cloth — his voice thundered,
"Who did it?"
The soldier stuttered,
"Lily… Lily Yakshini."
A fire blazed in Humbha's eyes.
She drew out her black staff —
its upper end embedded with a dark stone.
She struck the lower end against the ground —
the chamber echoed, as if even the earth had felt her fury.
Mascar gestured with his hand, ordering the soldier to leave.
The soldier bowed low, retreating backward —
then crawled out of the room on his knees.
Humbha smiled faintly and said,
"Those three were with them — so how did this happen?"
Mascar growled,
"Lily."
Humbha leaned close to Mascar's ear and whispered,
"Lith, who holds the legacy of the Vajravahini Yakshini;
Shon, heir of the Kamarupi Yakshini; and
Jury, who bears the legacy of Chitralekha Yakshini —
even these three together could not stop her…
it seems I will have to kill every generation of the Madana Yakshini myself."
Mascar roared,
"Even with those three present we lost our two precious swords — who is Lily?"
Humbha said softly,
"She is only twenty years old — at the peak of youth —
and her life could become a danger to us."
Mascar fell silent, lost in thought about Lily.
Humbha took a long breath and said,
"Summon those three Yakshinis. Find them.
I will go myself to investigate what happened."
At that moment, the three — Shon, Lith, and Jury — arrived at Humbha's palace, completely drunk.
Their unsteady steps and the haze of intoxication filled the palace air with a strange helplessness.
When Humbha saw their arrival, she rose into the air and descended before them;
with her presence, a cold layer of frost fell from the air and began to settle upon the ground.
In the wide courtyard of the palace, the three fell to their knees, bowing their heads and crying out,
"Your Majesty, forgive us — we could not protect your handmaidens."
Humbha struck her staff upon the ground;
an invisible wave of gravity pressed the three firmly to the floor.
They groaned in pain, begging for mercy.
In a trembling voice, Jury said,
"We… we killed that Lily."
Humbha let out a quiet sigh of relief.
The intoxication in the three was beginning to fade;
fear had seeped into their bones, and they rubbed their foreheads against the floor in shame.
In a cold, stern tone, Humbha said,
"Listen — as penance, you will now serve my host.
You will entertain him and grant him spiritual energy so that he may win the upcoming contest."
Saying this, Humbha turned and walked away.
Trembling with fear, the three approached Mascar and stood before him with bowed heads, like slaves —
as if their existence no longer held any worth.
Believing Lily to be dead, the story turned into a maze of dreadful conspiracies —
but now a new fire had ignited in Snehwal's heart —
a fire that sought to destroy every powerful being at any cost.