Semua Bab The Goddess Warrior: Bab 11 - Bab 20

Jaiyana, curled on the sofa with a stack of notes balanced on her knees, barely looked up. She already felt the weight of her grandmother’s gaze. At her side, a well-worn backpack gaped open, spilling field guides, brushes, and an empty leather journal — her tools for the Harappa dig she would soon depart for.She didn’t look like the sort of girl Padma imagined when she spoke of hotels and heirs. Dark hair fell in a loose braid down her shoulder, the strands escaping around her face in soft rebellion. Her skin carried the warm undertones of her Indian heritage, though the cut of her clothes — jeans and a thin cotton blouse rolled to the elbows — spoke of her English upbringing. There was a quiet observant air to her, as if she lived half in books and half in a world just beyond other people’s sight.“You are still reading about lost civilizations?” Padma’s voice carried the kind of polish that came from a lifetime of speaking as if every word mattered. “A girl your age should be read

Arjun cleared his throat. “It’s me. I only wanted to thank you for your company tonight. And… to wish you luck on your journey.”Jaiyana heaved a heavy sigh and gently opened the door.“Thank you, Arjun, but that is not necessary. I appreciate your concern.” Her tone was kind but dismissive, the sort meant to bring a polite end to the evening.“Look, I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” Arjun said quickly, his voice edged with sincerity. “Do you have a moment to just… talk?”Something in his tone — earnest, almost pleading — softened her resistance. Against her better judgment, she opened the door wider and stepped aside.Her room was in cheerful disarray: suitcases yawning open, clothes folded in haphazard stacks, notebooks spilling across the desk in a flurry of half-written thoughts. Arjun’s eyes took it all in before he chose the settee beneath the window, careful not to disturb anything.“This looks like serious business,” he said with a smile, trying to draw her in

They were at their last layover in the U.S. It had already been a long day for the Harappa team traveling from Montana. First a layover in Seattle. Now a transfer in New York’s JFK.Danny clutched the small bag of herbs his Aunt Sadie had packed for him. “Ginger and peppermint,” he muttered, holding one sachet up like a talisman. “She swears this keeps people from puking at thirty thousand feet.”“Are you sure you even need it?” Lila asked, her tone light but curious. She balanced her carry-on on one hip while checking her phone for flight updates. “You’re not going to throw up in front of the whole team, are you?”Danny made a face. “I’m… I’m fine. Just… slightly questioning the sanity of whoever decided to pack the flight schedule like it was a cross-country marathon.”Kaplan, sprawled across the adjacent row of seats, yawned without opening his eyes. “You mean the sane person who realized you need at least five connecting flights to get halfway across the world?”Danny groaned and

Danny’s sharp inhale signaled his gaining courage to reveal what had been clawing at him since the interview—that he was the new Old Man, Napi.“Uncle, how do you know the gift runs in me, too?” Danny asked, his voice trembling on the edge of disbelief.Joseph Red Bear’s gaze softened. “Because, nisókaawa, it is our heritage, our bloodline. Napi has not walked openly among us for many generations, but he has lived in our lines for thousands of years. Many in our tribe have forgotten that Napi was real—but he is real in you.”Danny’s stomach twisted. “But Uncle… all I can think of are the tricks. The lies. The shame.”Joseph shook his head, leaning forward. “Listen, nephew. Napi was more than the fool around the fire. He was a bird, carrying messages between the sky and the earth. He was the fox, quick and clever, finding ways where none could be seen. He was the coyote, teaching through laughter, even when his own pride cost him dearly. He was the buffalo, giving his body so our peopl

Exhaustion had turned to exhilaration when the team realized they only had one more flight from Dubai to Faisalabad International Airport. Their flight from their technical layover in Milan had been delayed, so they had several hours to wait in the Dubai Airport until the next available Pakistan International Airlines flight was to depart at 11:55 PM. The Dubai Airport was less a transit hub and more a glittering city under one roof—an oasis of marble floors, towering glass walls, and a ceaseless tide of humanity flowing in every direction. The scent of oud and strong coffee hung in the air as travelers from every corner of the world brushed shoulders: business executives in sharp suits, families with carts piled high, and backpackers blinking against the neon glow. Every shop gleamed like a boutique on Fifth Avenue, selling everything from Rolex watches to camel-shaped chocolates, while the quiet prayer rooms and hidden gardens offered unexpected moments of peace. Time seemed to be