“Amazing,” Amara gushed, restraining herself to run over to the temple towering over them. The building was built into the cliff, the building with columns and a plaza protruded from the wall, on the plaza was an enormous statue of a figure, well known by Indians. The black-skinned goddess with four arms, a necklace of heads around her neck, and her tongue hanging out as she was holding a Khadga and a severed head which her other arm is catching up all the blood with a cup while one of her foot pressed down a headless body.

Frowning at the statue, towering over them as they walked closer, Amara found it more and more strange as she inspected it more closely.

“From what I have heard, it is supposed to be Kali. The Hindu goddess of destruction.”

“Samhara Kali or Kalika, the black one, to be exact. She is normally depicted with blue skin but Samhara Kali is preferred to have black skin, though she normally only have two arms, not four,” Amara explained. “But why is she holding Shiva’s head.”

“She lost control and severed his and many others' head.”

“That is not how the legend goes. Kali loses control and Shiva tries to calm her, allowing her to step on him. In embarrassment and shock, Kali pulls back her tongue and calms her mind but, in this picture, she has severed his head,” Amara said, pointing at the head and then the body. “You can see the trishula in his hand, along with the Vasuki, the serpent king around his neck. He is also holding the damaru in his other hand. All are symbols of Shiva, but his head is severed and is held by Kali.”

“I’ve not heard any of the experts mention this,” Helene muttered, looking closer at the picture. “Is the detail essential?”

“Kali is supposed to be the ultimate destruction of demons and evil. She is a terrifying defender, not a slayer of good,” Amara shrugged.

“Maybe you just misinterpret the symbols. The Hindu gods aren’t supposed to exist during this time after all. This might be the original inspiration of the goddess and they might only be related through looks. Not legend.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, the motive is probably the least interesting thing here. Notice something else?”

Amara looked closer at the sculpture, shaking her head, not sure what to look for.

“Look at the material used,” Helene suggested and Amara looked closer, her eyes going wide as she recognized it.

“Is that obsidian used for her skin?”

“Exactly, there have been some obsidian tools discovered in India’s past but nothing of this magnitude from what I know. Look at the scythe she is holding.”

Amara’s eyes turned to the half-moon-formed blade that was a Khadga, Kali’s choice of weapon. It was shining, bright, and clear. Frowning for a while before she asked quietly, ”Silver?”

“No, from what we can tell. It is iron.”

“That… can’t be possible. We have found no sign of iron tools in the Harappa civilization, if this was made before that then it would change what we know,” Amara said, wanting to reach up to touch it.

“That is not the only strange thing we found.”

“Oh?”

“The statue is younger than the building. From what we can tell, the statue is built after the temple became a ruin.”

“Why build a statue of this magnitude after the temple was abandoned?” Amara asked, inspecting the scripture underneath the sculpture. It wasn’t the soft scripture of Sanskrit. Amara recognized the scripture, it was Harappan script from the Indus Valley Civilization. Unfortunately, despite many archeologists trying to crack it, it was still a mystery to the world. “Do you have any theories of what the statue is?”

“Some assume that it is god worship, an earlier form of Kali. Others, like myself, see no reason to build a sculpture in such magnitude, with techniques and material far beyond that what is normally used, in a temple long abandoned. We think it might be a memorial but considering that you said Kali was the destroyer of evil, then maybe the statue was put here to protect the place.”

“Or keep whatever is inside sealed,” Amara muttered.

“Whatever is inside? You mean rubble?” Helene said teasingly.

“I mean ghosts called bhoots, they take the form of animals. If people died horribly in this place then people would have assumed that they would become bhoots and the two most efficient ways to keep a bhoot away or sealed is using water and iron,” Amara pointed at the Khadga made from iron. “Like that.”

Helen’s eyes looked out over what now has become a valley as the water of the lake has flooded down into a sinkhole. “Some geologists have looked closer at the area and thought that it might have been flooded consciously. There are some signs of the neighboring lands having been tampered with by human hands. The lake originally was beside this valley, but humans dug a canal to flood the valley, drowning the temple in water. We couldn’t understand why but I guess if they wanted to protect themselves from ghosts then…”

Amara frowned at the entrance of the temple, it loomed there dark and heavy. Her skin prickled with discomfort as a howling wind came from the depths of the temple. “What could possibly have happened here for them to go to such extent to protect themselves?”

“I don’t know, but notice something else about the temple and sculpture? Everyone is quite puzzled by it,” Helene asked, gesturing to the environment.

Amara looked around, not really seeing what she meant. The area was filled with stones, some were rubble from the temple while others were natural, the algae were now dry and slowly giving way to the jungle which had started to reclaim the valley. “What is puzzling?”

“The entire area was engulfed in water but neither the temple nor the statue has any water plants on them. The iron khadga has not rusted either. It is like the temple has been untouched by the water,” Helene said, Amara’s eyes growing wide as she inspected the claims. There was no decay. The temple was still standing though there were some cracks but no plants have grown on it, neither in the water nor on the ground. It is like the plants feared the place.

*****

“Why are you harassing me in the middle of the night?” asked Vihaan, his hair still ruffled from bed with a steaming cop of coffee in hand.

“It’s morning,” Amara said, not looking up as she eagerly fumbled with the notes.

“Barely,” Vihaan muttered grimly, looking at the sun barely peeking over the horizon. “Why have you pulled me out of bed?”

“I have looked through Amos notes and-“

“Mr. Graycrest’s notes? I thought he didn’t want you here. Why do you have his-“ Realization dawn on Vihaan’s face. “You stole them!”

“Don’t be silly,” Amara laughed. “I borrowed them.”

“Without asking, that is stealing,” Vihaan groaned, clearly wanted to curl back into his bed. “You can’t just-“

“Focus!” Amara interrupted, pulling up the notebook. “I read through his notes and found one he had written to the ASI. His colleagues assumed that the language in the temple is Harappan script but Amos notice some key differences. Among others, there are symbols inside squares that have never been seen before. Amos theorized that these were the name of places, clans, or gods. He also noticed the signs that normally would end a sentence in Harappan scripture we have found, seem to start sentences in this temple and the signs that would start a sentence in Harappan scripture seem to end it. He thinks that the language in the temple is mirrored compared to those of the Indus Valley Civilization.”

“Such a strange thing to look for.”

“Amos is a strange man,” Amara replied. “He also theories that our goddess Kali might have derived from this depiction.”

“That is all fine and well, but it is all theories without any base.”

“That is what the ASI said as well, but I think that if I can get more notes from the temple then I might be able to prove his theories.”

“From the temple?”

“Yes.”

“Inside the temple?”

“Yes.”

The two of them looked at each other. Amara’s eyes were sparkling, Vihaan looked like he had been hit over the head with a pan. “I’m guessing you want to go now.”

Amara didn’t reply but pulled a struggling Vihaan along whose discontent echoed through the camp as he was dragged down into the black abyss of the temple.

*****

“Are you done?” Vihaan said, sneezing as dust hit his face.

“Stop complaining, your baby!” Amara said, pulling at his leg so he would raise the oil lamp. He reluctantly did, the light illuminated the dark hallway. The sun has risen enough to send a small beam through the entrance though it didn’t reach them.

Outside, you hear the buzzing of people as they had started to work and Amara knew that she would soon be thrown out, archeologists despised having intruders, which amateur was seen as, on their space.

Putting on the last scribbles in her notebook, she was just about to rise when a loud bang echoed through the hallways. The sound was short but made every nerve in Amara’s body tense as she recognized the sound of a gunshot.

“What-“ Her question was interrupted by the ground shaking, sending dust and stones down from the ceiling. “An earthquake?!”

“We need to get out of here,” Vihaan pulled Amara up, not waiting for her reply. Amara didn’t hesitate and stumbled towards the entrance, feeling her heart beating like a drum as the light slowly faded, as stone and dust covered it. She heard someone call for her, but her eyes were on the entrance. Then someone grabbed onto her waist, lifting her up into the air.

She shouted both in fear and surprise as someone ran into the darkness instead of against it. Turning her eyes, looking at the fading entrance, she saw the ceiling cave-in, cutting her off from freedom.