I
Fifty-Nine hours to go…
She had got Svāhā. She had got Nemhata. She had got Ayat. She had got Witch Vasishta. She had got Kushiro. She had got…wait! Where is that fat fellow?
Swamy scrutinised her close surrounding for any sign of the chubby sorcerer and panicked when she found neither a single trace of him.
Her first intuition was to draw Svāhā’s attention to the matter.
Without her knowing it, Swamy had started relying and trusting Svāhā with almost every other close call more than anyone she had ever relied upon in her whole life—and the more she showered him with attention, the flattered her soulmate felt on getting it—which was why when she called him aloud alarmed that Hefy was missing, it took Svāhā some good minutes to fall out of the trance and respond to it.
