Aru Shah and the End of Time (Pandava Quartet, #1)

by Roshani Chokshi

The problem with growing up around highly dangerous things is that after a while you just get used to them.

“Sometimes light illuminates things that are better left in the dark.

The world has a tendency to trick people. It likes to make a day feel as bright and lazy as sun-warmed honey dripping down a jar as it waits until your guard is down…. And that’s when it strikes.

But what she did have was imagination. Aru had been daydreaming her whole life.

Aru wanted to be noticed. But she kept getting noticed for all the wrong reasons.

Between a demon that could end the world and a seventh-grade girl, Aru (and probably most people) would choose the demon any day.

Maybe she wouldn’t have to hide behind her stories because her own life would finally be enough.

“Is that a good thing?” “It’s a powerful thing,” sniffed the bird. “And between good and power, I will always choose the latter.”

Aru didn’t think this was particularly fair. Even famous people had been children at some point.

“I may not know,” she said. “But I can learn.”

Words had their own power.

I was never a tale, but a truth.

Talking this way came easily to Aru. She had done it all her life: looked at something not so great and told herself all the things that made it great.

“May all the doors you face in life swing open and never smack you in the butt as they close!”

“Better pajamas than skin,” said Boo. “Unless it’s the skin of a demon you slayed. That would be fitting for a hero.”

Perhaps sensing that the conversation was moving from stupid to stupefying,

“It wasn’t just any outfit, you big ape,” snapped Urvashi. “It was made from the skipped heartbeats of every person who had ever laid eyes on me. It took centuries to sew!

Aru blushed. “We’re not kids.” “Um, Aru…” said Mini, “we kinda are.” “We’re preadolescents.” “That’s the same thing, just a different word.” “Yeah, but it sounds better,” muttered Aru.

But maybe she hadn’t lied at all. Maybe it wasn’t lying as much as it was applying some imagination. Looking at something from a different angle.

“The others will only awaken as needed. With increasing darkness comes answering light,” said Boo. “Even in chaos, the world will seek balance.” “Is this the part where you say Do or do not, there is no try?” asked Aru. Boo scowled.

In theory, a quest sounded awesome. But in reality, a whole lot of lives hung in the balance.

Maybe that’s why superheroes wore capes. Maybe they weren’t actually capes at all, but safety blankets,

Maybe superheroes just tied their blankies around their necks so they’d have a little bit of comfort wherever they went. Because honestly? Saving the world was scary.

“Normally, you get to the Kingdom of Death by dying,” said Urvashi. Aru and Mini exchanged nervous glances. “Eeny, meeny—” started Mini. At the same moment, Aru shouted, “Nose goes!” She smacked her nose. Mini turned pale. “Oh no…” “Children,” said Urvashi, holding up her palm. “There is a way to open up the Door of Death without dying.

Mini laughed, but it was a panicked I-am-definitely-gonna-die kind of laugh.

“They said I would never remember how strong and powerful I am until someone reminded me,” said Hanuman. “Sometimes I wonder if it is a curse that we are all under at some point or another.”

“Ow!” “Good! You felt pain. Relish it, girl child. That’s how you know you’re not dead,”

(Nothing is more awkward than an unreciprocated high five…especially when too much time has gone by and you can’t pretend that you were just stretching.)

“How about an elbow bump instead? It’s hygienic and fun!”

“Why?” asked Aru, shocked. “Because he was a murderer?” “Worse,” said Boo. “He’s a…” His voice dropped. “A writer.” He shook his head in disgust.

“I would offer you some turmeric tea, but you disturbed me at my apogee.

The only way she could’ve helped was if Valmiki liked beatnik poetry. They’d just studied that unit in English class, so Aru could snap her fingers in rhythm and start shouting about neon fruit supermarkets, but she didn’t think that would be helpful here.

Up to now, Aru had never given much thought to how a word or sentence might taste. Sometimes when she said something mean, there was a bitter aftertaste. But when she spoke Valmiki’s mantra, she felt magic on her tongue, like fizzing Pop Rocks candy.

She could have told the truth about a lot of things. That she wasn’t popular. That she did know how it felt to be on the outside. That her best talent wasn’t defeating monsters…it was pretending.

Why Are All Enchanted Things So Rude?

“My mother always says that knowledge is power. I’m just trying to make us more powerful.” “And my mother says that ignorance is bliss,” said Aru under her breath.

And then…then it was like dozing off in class. One moment of perfect, heavy-lidded happiness.

“If you happen to be carrying a miniature universe, please place it in one of the baskets on the right. If it is unregistered, a Devourer of Worlds will eliminate it. If you would like to make a complaint, don’t bother. And if you are a cursed being or under an enchanted form, please notify me prior to stepping through security.”

“On behalf of the gods and storytellers around the world, we hope you leave with your life intact and your imagination brimming.”

“What ambrosia is this?” He smacked his beak. “Gimme more.” “Say please.” “No.” Mini fed him part of an Oreo anyway.

THINGS YOU WANT THINGS YOU NEED THINGS YOU DON’T WANT TO NEED

Be on guard. They’re brilliant, but horrible.” Aru’s heart raced. “Why? Do they eat people?” “Worse,” said Boo, his feathers ruffling. “They’re artists.”

“How devastating. How delightful. Chic cruelty never goes out of style.”

But be warned: regret will always follow. It is the price of aiming true. For sometimes, when we take the deadliest aim, we are nothing if not reckless.”

Those tales had unlocked things that ordinary metal keys never could. A particularly good book had a way of opening new spaces in one’s mind. It even invited you to come back later and rummage through what you’d learned.

She hadn’t given much thought as to what a book might taste like. But Adulthood had a strange flavor. Sweet and bitter at the same time, like candied orange peel. It reminded Aru of walking to school on a cold February morning, when the sun was bright but distant and everything was a little too stark.

It didn’t make sense for the magic around them to look so beautiful when she felt so…ugly.

Maybe…maybe her gift wasn’t lying. Maybe her gift was imagination. Imagination was neither good nor bad. It was a little bit of both.

Tales are slippery, her mother had often said. The truth of a story depends on who is telling it.

“Are you ready, daughter of Indra?” it asked. “Nope,” said Aru. She took a deep breath. “But let’s go anyway.”