She woke up soaked, with patches of sweat staining her clothes, breathing just slightly faster than usual. A fault in the power supply to her room caused her to wake up abruptly. Without the air-conditioning, the air in her room had become stale, smelling like an odd combination of sawdust and old clothes. She was forced to get out of the comfortable confines of her bed to crack the window open for circulation. As she moved, her long robe got displaced revealing her long slender legs adorned with scars and light stretch marks. They flowed down her beautiful hips, like rivers filled with experiences and growth. The same scars ached on cold winter nights, bringing back repressed memories of how she lost her father on that fateful day.

Paviraa looked out the narrow slit of the window and took a deep breath. Fresh air that is taken out of a rainforest through thousands of perennially open, microscopic Ethereal gates, that was supplied in Alkapuri, displaced the stale air inside. She rested her perfectly rounded haunches on the window sill and looked inside her dimly lit room. The room where memories of her parents kept alive through their belongings. Her mother was still alive, a doctor, she found her calling in healing underprivileged kids, perhaps a way of preserving her motherhood. Paviraa occasionally went and looked at her mother from a distance. She wondered if she would recognise her after so many years of her supposed death. Although she craved her mother's love, she had the responsibility to honour her father by becoming a great Guardian like him. She also wanted to protect her mother from the evils that she would have to face. Thus she accepted the burden of being an orphan when she wasn't one, all for the safety of her mother. While reminiscing of the old days, she touched her father's core that was nestled loosely between her bosoms, hung by a chain gifted by someone who was slowly pushing his way into her life. Although she was very young on the day her father died, the memories were clearly etched into her mind.

******

Her father was supposed to meet an old friend of his that day. Since her mother had to go to the hospital for an emergency call, Paviraa was left with her father. He decided to take her along since the meeting could not be avoided. They both sat on his scooter and drove towards the pre-decided meeting place. As her father sped through the road: to a two stroke scooter's best ability. A cat darted across the street and Zubair Noor, her father, had to veer the bike aggressively to save it. Unfortunately, Mumbai roads are not forgiving. The swerving bike met with a pothole and he lost balance. Both of them were flung on the road. Zubair was protected by his jeans and jacket but little Paviraa's frock offered little to no protection. A deep gash on her knee left Paviraa bleeding and bawling. Her father rushed to her as the cat trotted away nonchalantly. Zubair carried her to the nearest medical store and put his first aid skills to use. With a splash of hydrogen peroxide, a dab of antiseptic cream, some gauze and micro-pore tape the wound was dressed. The promise of a trip to the Water Park, pacified her crying.

Zubair drove a bit more conservatively and reached the decrepit building. They alighted and walked into the abandoned basement of the buildings. He was too late. He found his friend sprawled on the floor in a pool of his blood, with an obese woman in her 30s towering over him laughing hysterically. She held a riding crop or a whip of some sort, where the tip was weaved into a symmetrical knot. Like those found in the hands of deities in ruins of western India.

"No!" Zubair yelled, broken by the sight that he beheld, "You witch! He had nothing to do with this. You will pay for this."

She turned towards him while continuing to laugh. Her evil eyes spotted Paviraa and Zubair realised his mistake. He had brought his innocent and defenceless daughter into a battlefield.

Zubair turned to his daughter and yelled, "Run! Baby run away, don't look behind! Daddy will come looking for you. Go!"

Paviraa sensed the urgency in his voice and turned around to make a break for it. Unfortunately the wound on her knee gave way at this critical moment. Waves of sharp pulsating pain coursed through her knee as she fell down just a couple steps away from her father. This time she did not cry, she was terrified of the woman so she did not make any noise. She silently tolerated the pain while trying to crawl away.

Zubair was now determined to buy as much time as possible for his daughter. He removed the core from his pocket and got ready to fight her. But she looked least concerned with him. She just looked at him and continued to smile.

"Why should I do it? It is more fun to watch. Let's see if you can fight your own friend. Even in death he won't find peace," she announced and continued to laugh.

She flailed the riding crop in the air and the body lying in a pool of blood began to twitch. She controlled him from a distance like a puppet. The body stood up with its hair stuck to the scalp, matted in his own blood, a broken nose, and blood soaked clothes, and lifeless glossed over eyes. He was bruised all over. As if he was tortured before being killed. Zubair almost broke down on seeing his friend in this state but nothing else mattered and no one else mattered over Paviraa's well-being.

With a stone cold heart Zubair raised his palm and uttered, "Agniya."

A giant ball of flame erupted out of his palm and shot towards the evil lady. The puppeteer dragged his friend's dead body and used it like a human shield. She brandished the riding crop in the air and the half burnt remains of his friend flew through the air and landed on Zubair trying to choke him.

Zubair struggled out of the strong grip that was choking him and threw a few punches to knock the body down.

"I'm sorry old friend. It is time for you to go," Zubair said as he touched his palm to his friend's chest and said, "Bhasmama!"

His chest began to smoulder and slowly the body began to burn and turn into ashes. The woman saw this happen and was livid.

She stepped closer and said, "Worthless pieces of trash, you filthy humans. Must I do everything on my own?"

She raised her hands and flailed the riding crop twice. The body that was half charred held still, with its hands spread out. With a loud crack and tear, the dead body's hands were ripped out from its wrists. The rest of the body had charred to a crisp and dropped dead leaving the floor covered with ashes which slowly drifted off in the draft.

The two hands ripped free seconds ago were now floating in the air with blood dripping out of them almost rhythmically. She walked towards Zubair and the two floating hands moved in unison. They balled into a fist and began to strike Zubair all over. The woman closed in and began to strike him with her riding crop. Four hands were now attacking him. Each time he tried to touch her to reduce her into ashes; a hand would punch him in the wrist and knock his hands away.

She grabbed his neck and choked him. With one hand, she lifted him by the neck with her sheer strength. Zubair tried hard to break free. He frantically kicked in the air while his hands were trying get away from her iron grip. Finally, Zubair held on to her hands and decided this was the right chance to attack.

"Bhasm--," he tried to speak but something made him stop.

Behind the woman, the dead person's hands held Paviraa by her legs as she swung in the air, writhing in the pain from her injury.

"Did you think it would be that easy? That I would let you burn me to a crisp. You might be strong but not strong enough," she said.

"Leave her alone," Zubair mouthed as he forced the words through her choke hold.

"It is either you or her. If you try to escape, I will have her suffer. Maybe I could throw her off a tall building. Or simply tear her legs apart. So what will it be?" she asked him with a grin on her face.

"Please, not her," he mumbled.

"So be it. It's brave of you to accept your death," she spoke.

With a swift blow she drove the tips of her fingers through his stomach, piercing him all the way to the other side. He bled from his mouth as he looked at his daughter for his final moments thinking about how he had failed his wife and child.

"Papa-," Paviraa screamed as she watched her father get stabbed and die.

"That was mighty foolish of him. As if I would let you live. He condemned you both to death. Stupid insignificant humans," the obese woman said.

Paviraa was in shock now; she saw the lights slowly fade from her ever-cheerful father's eyes. Tears flowed out of her eyes uncontrollably.

Paviraa let out a blood curdling wail, "aaaarrrghhhhhhhhhh."

Her father's core began to glow and intensified to a blinding light. The evil woman was startled, confused as to what is happening. A fire grew around the core, bubbling and spinning around it. The raging inferno grew larger by the second as it began melting everything around it. Right from the metal inside the concrete: to the concrete itself.

A loud explosion was accompanied by a shock wave. The building was weakened from its foundation. In the fire and explosion collapsed in itself, crumbling like a house of cards.

The next thing she remembered was waking up at Lord Ishrafil's hospital. By then she had lost everything. She learnt that she and her father, both died in that basement. The explosion had destroyed everything except her. She had been knocked unconscious by the shockwave and died subsequently due to the smoke and insufficient oxygen.

By the time Lord Ishrafil came to her aid, her family had already performed a burial for her. Despite Lord Ishrafil reviving her, in the eyes of everyone she knew and loved, she was dead. Mary who had been alone as well lived under Lord Ishrafil's care began living with Paviraa. Since Paviraa resonated strongly with her father's core, even more so than Zubair himself, she inherited it. Over the years, she worked and studied hard to become a Guardian just like her father. Like a guardian angel, she watches over her mother who dedicated her life to humanity.

Just as the electricity returned to her room she walked away from the window and once again repressed this memory in the distant corners of her mind.

As she lay on her bed, her eyes wandered to the charcoal sketch of her, that Rishaan had made. The edges of her lips curled into the slightest smile. He doesn't fill the hole inside her heart left by the absence of her parents. He doesn't even try to do it. But knowing that there was someone who wanted her, and wanted her to be happy was a good feeling.

Maybe, just maybe, he could take all her pain away, she thought as she covered herself head to toe with her blanket and slept. She thought of his scar marked face, his positivity, his smile and found beauty in it that no one else had seen before. Only, it was too early to accept her feelings: just as it was too far gone to deny them.