Amiyetra

Water streamed down the young woman's body in steady rivulets. Her sari was hitched up to her knees, and heavy anklets encircled her feet like great metal bands. Her face was expressionless—unyielding, almost like that of an ancient goddess.
Then she spoke.
Her voice was a whisper that rang with an uncanny resonance, yet it seemed as though countless voices were speaking in perfect unison through a single mouth.

You have called upon me in sorrow and in strife, to carry you across the two shores.
In this very moment, let all three worlds hide themselves in fear.
I wander through your courtyard, standing upon the earth.
I am birth. I am death. I call to you with an outstretched hand.
In fear and endless questions, you seek to know what I am.
I am your own forgotten night, hidden deep within your distant past.
I am Amiyetra..."

Bahadur Shah could no longer speak.
A heavy black curtain was descending over his eyes with terrifying speed. Through the trembling veil of darkness, blurred by the relentless rain, he could still make out the woman. She was leaning over him, staring in complete stillness.
Like a statue.
Without a heartbeat.
Shrouded in mystery.