Mortal song

Iswari POV

The mortal market buzzed like a song I didn’t know the lyrics to but still wanted to dance to. A warm breeze curled through the narrow alleyways, carrying with it the scent of roasted cumin and molten sugar. Earthy dust clung to the edges of my sandals, kicked up by bare feet that ran past us children laughing as if they were chasing the wind. A flock of pigeons burst into the air, startled by their sudden whooping. Their wings caught the golden light, flickering like silver coins tossed toward the sky.

The sky above was a riot of colour burnt orange melting into a soft purple, with streaks of gold as the sun yawned its way into slumber. Somewhere nearby, a street musician played a wooden flute, and though his notes were off-key, the soul in the sound made my chest ache.

Bright fabrics fluttered in the breeze like petals shaken loose from some divine garden…turmeric yellows, vermillion reds, sapphire blues, each stall dressed like it was celebrating a festival of its own. There was life everywhere haggling voices, spice-laden air, marigold strings swinging lazily over doorways, monkeys watching from rooftops like tiny gods.

“I want that!” I pointed at a glowing orange jalebi, sizzling in a cast iron pan soaked in syrup. The sugary aroma was thick, sticky, divine.

Amrita recoiled like I’d asked for poison. “That looks like sugar and fire had a fight.”

I laughed, my voice blending into the market's messy music. “Exactly why I want it.”

We pushed forward, shoulder to shoulder with mortals who had no idea two immortals walked among them. And I loved it that way. The Lotus Palace was all whispers and wariness, every gaze heavy with expectation. But here? Here, no one bowed. No one measured my words. They didn’t even look twice. They just… lived.

A shopkeeper wiped sweat from his brow and sang a song to lure in customers. A mother scolded her daughter, then broke into laughter when the girl made a face behind her back. A young couple shared a kulfi, smiling like they had nothing to lose.Even the woman shouting at the shopkeeper over one extra rupee had more fire than half the council.

“This place is chaos,” Amrita muttered, pulling her dupatta closer as if the colors around her were too bright to touch. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

I turned in place, slowly, letting it all soak in. Mismatched stalls leaned against each other like old friends. Clay cups stacked high, some already broken. A man with a gap-toothed grin sold kites with paper wings painted like peacocks and firebirds. A little boy spun in dizzying circles, arms outstretched like he could lift off and vanish into the sky.

“I am enjoying it,” I said softly. “Because look at them. They struggle every day, yet laugh louder than the winds in the immortal halls. They’re tired, hungry, sweating under this sun and still, they smile.”

A honeybee hovered near a marigold garland. A butterfly landed on a spice sack. Even nature seemed to join the dance here.

Amrita rolled her eyes. “You’re getting poetic again.”

“It’s not poetry,” I whispered, eyes tracking a girl as she gently tucked a marigold behind her mother’s ear. “It’s the truth. They don’t have perfection. But they have heart.”

Before she could reply, a bangle-seller spotted us and waved eagerly. “ladys! Come, come Try these make your hands sing!”

I raised an amused brow. “Do my hands look mute to you?”

He laughed nervously, then offered me a pink glass bangle. It was uneven, slightly chipped but it shimmered in the fading sunlight like something forgotten by the stars. I slid it onto my wrist. Cool. Fragile. Imperfect.

And somehow… perfect.

Amrita held my wrist, already half-turned to leave. “Enough romance with broken glass, Iswari. We should go back before someone recognises you.”

I glanced at her, then up at the sky now bathed in tangerine and rose. Birds flew home in flocks, and the first evening lamp was lit in a shrine nearby, smoke curling like a prayer into the air.

Not yet.

Not when this world still had songs to sing. Not when my heart, for once, beat in time with the mortal rhythm.

And as the bangle clinked softly against another on my wrist, I smiled.

I would dance to this song lyrics unknown, rhythm wild, beauty imperfect.

Amrita was still gripping my wrist like I might leap headfirst into another jalebi stall and vanish into the syrup.

“I’m not running away,” I said, chuckling, the corners of my mouth lifting into a grin.

“You always run toward trouble,” she shot back, eyes narrowed but amused. “I’m just being prepared.”

I sighed, turning my gaze to the world around us. The market was beginning to quiet, the sun dipping low beyond the rooftops, bleeding molten gold into the horizon. One by one, lanterns blinked to life…tiny stars trapped in colored glass, swaying with the breeze.The air changed with the sky.

The spices still lingered…cardamom, fried flour, something sweet and smoky…but beneath that, I sensed it. A tension that settled low in my stomach. Like something ancient stirring beneath the earth. The warmth of laughter and life still echoed in the alleyways, but it was softer now. A little wary.

Even here, far from the high stone towers of the palace, I could feel the shift.

The war between the Moon and Lotus Kingdoms had deepened its claws. Shadows whispered louder than ever. And I knew soon even this place, with its chipped cups and kite sellers and marigold girls, would fall silent.

“We should go,” I said, voice low, unwilling to break the delicate magic still hanging in the evening air.

Amrita blinked. “What? You’re agreeing? Just like that?”

I gave her a small smile, a soft, tired thing. “Don’t act like I haven’t grown up at all.”

She snorted. “You haven’t.”

I turned one last time, letting my eyes drink in the fading light of the market. The flickering stalls. The fading laughter. The taste of mortal freedom still lingering on my tongue like the sugar of jalebi.

“I just wish…” The words came out uninvited, floating on the wind.

“What?” Amrita asked gently.

“I just wish I had more time here.”

Her smile faded, the corners tugging down with something older than both of us. “We all do.”

We walked together in silence, the kind that sits comfortably between two people who’ve known each other across lifetimes. The roads emptied. Laughter turned to wind. We passed broken carts with paint peeling like old memories, and fields gone quiet under the coming dusk. No watchful eyes here. No whispers. Just the hush of crickets and the rustle of dry grass beneath our feet.

“This is far enough,” Amrita said, stopping near a bent neem tree whose roots curled like sleeping snakes through the cracked earth.

We turned to face each other under the first bloom of stars.

I lifted my palm slowly, and light stirred at my fingertips soft, golden, and alive. Lotus shaped sigils unfurled across my skin like ancient ink remembering its story. the mark on my forehead pulsed with quiet warmth hidden from the world, but burning just the same.

Across from me, Amrita raised her hands with practiced ease. Water obeyed her like an old friend, swirling around her fingers in ribbons of silver blue, catching starlight with every turn. It flowed like silk, shimmered like moonlight on a midnight lake.

We didn’t need words.

One last look.

One last smile.

“Till next time, troublemaker,” she whispered, eyes softer than I’d ever seen them.

“Stay safe, water witch,” I replied, voice thick with something I didn’t name.

And then… magic.

It burst gently between us like a blessing: petals of light, drops of silver. The air rippled with energy, a song only we could hear. They spun around us, curling in the space where our feet had been.

And just like that…She vanished.

And I…I returned home.

To duty. To silence.

To the palace where joy was an echo, and the walls remembered everything.

But I carried the scent of jalebi, the laughter of mortals, and the dust of a market that still dared to dance beneath a dying sky.

I tiptoed through the grand corridor, careful not to let my footsteps echo too loud. The cold marble kissed my bare feet, and the soft chime of my anklets followed behind me like a stubborn little secret. I held my dupatta close, hoping the guards wouldn't notice, though I knew I was already a little too late.

The golden pillars of the Lotus Palace stood tall around me, glowing faintly in the evening light. Each one was carved with lotus flowers and vines, the kind that looked like they might sway in the wind if you stared too long. It smelled of sandalwood and jasmine, like it always did. Familiar. Soft. Sacred.

This was home. My kingdom.

Beautiful, graceful... maybe even too perfect.

After the noise and color of the mortal world, this silence felt heavy. Lovely, yes but still heavy.

I peeked to my left. Then right.

No one.

I held in a giggle and whispered to myself, “Safe!”

But just when I turned the corner, I froze.

An attendant stood at the end of the hallway, holding a brass plate and looking

startled to see me.

I rushed behind a pillar and whispered quickly, “Where is Bhaisa?”

She didn’t reply. Her eyes dropped to the floor.

I leaned out a little. “Hello? Where is he? Is he in the courtyard?”

Still no answer. Only silence. And that was never a good sign.

Before I could move, before I could even breathe—

“Kitni baar samjhaya hai tujhe, ishu….Lekin tu toh hai hi ziddi, baat maan'na tujhe aata hi nahi!”

How many times have I explained it to you, Ishu...but you are so stubborn, you don't know how to obey me!”

“AHH—DADAA!” I yelped as strong fingers grabbed my ear from behind.

“It hurts! You’re hurting me!”

“Where were you?” he snapped, still pulling my ear like I was a naughty child.

“I-I was in the kingdom, Dada! I was right here!” I said quickly, blinking up at him like a perfect picture of innocence.

He didn’t fall for it. He never did.

“Don’t lie to me, Iswari.” His voice grew sharper. “You were in the mortal world again, weren’t you? Do you even understand how dangerous it is now?”

I winced. “Dadaaaaa... let go! I’m your sweet little sister, remember?”

He finally let go of my ear and gave me a soft slap on the back of my head more annoying than painful. “Sweet little sister? You? Hah. You’re trouble.”

I rubbed my ear dramatically, pretending to wipe a tear. “Ouch… I’ll tell Mother about this.”

“You tell her every day,” he said with a smirk, his arms now crossed like a strict old soldier.

I stared at him for a long moment. His face was still the same the same protective, serious, forever-scolding face. But behind his anger… I saw it.

Worry.

Real worry.

His eyes held a fear he didn’t say out loud. And that fear was more painful than the ear-pulling.

He wasn’t wrong.

The mortal world was calling me, pulling me like a tide that I couldn’t fight. Every time I crossed over, it was harder to leave. The laughter, the colors, the freedom it felt like a dream I didn’t want to wake from.

But this wasn’t the time for dreams.

The war between the Moon and Lotus realms was no longer just a story whispered in courtrooms. It was here now. In the way the guards stood taller. In the silence of the halls. In the eyes of the people.

And somewhere deep inside… I could feel it too.

A quiet whisper. A shift in the air.

Like something was about to break.

Like peace was only holding on

by a thread.

So even as I stood there, making faces at my brother and rubbing my ear like a child…

I knew.

Soon, the giggles would fade.

And all of us…

would have to grow up…

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