A Passing Palm: To Worship and Revile, To Soothe and Destroy

Disclaimer: Far Cry 4 is not mine. I own nothing. I am just playing with the characters, adding some new characters of my own (cough cough Mohana cough), and messing with the plot. Enjoy.

Content Warning: Canon death, profanity/swearing, panic attack

Forwarning: I am planning for this story to get DARK. (You can blame everything on Pagan Min...) This story will be heavily rated M, with later instances of sex, violence, blood/gore, sexual assault, torture, and noncon. [Not Explicit]

Author's Note: I have never written anything of this nature before, so this story will be a challenge. However, if I find certain content difficult to write or am unsure about its content placement, I will move this story elsewhere to better accommodate the story's content rating.

*Lakshmana SPOILER ALERT*

I love to write OC stories that try to fit into the original story and lore. I find that it's a challenge to make it as realistic as possible, so it's like my OC always belonged to the story in the first place. Granted, I have tweaked the story a little bit to make it work with the timeline, but I tried to keep any changes within a character's original motives or behavior. So, that being said, here is a little insight to changes in the timeline, minus some spoilers:

-Birth of Mohana Ghale in 1989: Far Cry Wiki has both Ajay and Lakshmana being born in 1988, and then Lakshmana died in 1989. So, I figured Ajay was born in April 88, and then 9 months later Lakshmana was born in Dec 1988. And then another 9 months later, Mohana was born in August 1989. Shortly thereafter, Lakshmana died. So Ishawari had back to back to back children during those 2 years. Although difficult, not impossible, so it works with the plot ect.

Prologue:

My mother is dying.

I could barely process the words when the doctor shared his diagnosis with my small family. To me, as I clutched desperately onto the hand of my bedridden mother. And to my big brother, who sheltered me in his arms, as his other hand gently brushed the hair from our Mother's sweat-stained face.

Cancer.

The days passed in a blur as I watched the light fade from my once radiant Mother. My Mother, who was always a beacon of strength with a gleam in her eye that promised she could, and most certainly would, take on the world.

Then suddenly, she was gone.

My mother, Ishwari Ghale, was dead.

On the day my brother and I went to receive our mother's ashes, it was a beautiful day. The sun was beaming down on us, embracing us with its glow and warmth. But I felt cold. Numb. As I blindly followed after my brother. Like a child, I clung to the back of his jacket.

He is so strong. Through the storm of uncertainty and grief, he stood tall and resolute. I could see he was hurting just as bad as me, but still, he kept going. Holding me together all the while, when I was afraid I would crumble from the pain and loss. Even when the world we knew was shattered, he held strong and pushed forward.

Our mother left us two letters.

Within them, her words and warnings forever changed the trajectory of our path in life.

I can't breathe.

I struggled to take in enough air, as the shaky scrawl of my mother's writing blurred. Through the tears that began to flood my eyes, I read her final words to me:

Mohana my littlest,

I am so sorry to leave you. Please forgive me, but I can no longer keep you safe. Follow your Palm. He will protect you. I love you and I will always be with you.

- Ishwari Ghale

I don't understand. What was she keeping me safe from? Follow my palm? Why does she have to be so cryptic?! This doesn't make any sense! What does that even mean?! And why is she sorry? It's not her fault she died. It was the cancer. The stupid cancer! Of course, I forgive her! She's my mother! I love her! She doesn't have to-I don't-

I can't-

I need-

I-

I-

Suddenly my brother is there, picking me up and cradling me in his arms. He gently shushes me, assuring me that everything will be ok, as he brings us over to the couch in our apartment. He sits down, with me in his lap, my back to his chest, and holds me tight in his arms. His embrace a secure blanket which helps to ground me back to reality.

Distantly, I can hear him whispering in my ear, "It's ok Hana. Just breathe. OK, breathe with me. In. Out. In. Out. Deep breath in, and out. Come on, Hana, you can do it. Breathe in." I breathed in. "Breathe out." I breathed out. "Good! That's so good Hana. Again, ok? In." Inhale. "Out." Exhale. "In." Inhale. "Out." Exhale. Slowly, my racing heart calms as it syncs with my brother's steady heartbeat beneath me.

I curl in his lap and wrap my arms around his neck. Pushing my head between where his neck meets his shoulder. Slowly, he begins to rub gentle circles on my back.

"It's ok Hana. You're alright now. I've got you."

"Thank you, Ajay," I mumble into his neck, and he squeezes me a bit tighter.

"Of course! What are big brothers for, ya know?" he nudges me with a small grin, trying to bring back some humor to the situation. But, I can't. Not right now.

The attempt to lighten the mood somehow makes me feel worse. The next breath catches in my throat, and the waterworks start anew in my eyes. I try to hide my face in my hands and swallow my cries. I don't want to worry my brother like this. He's also going through so much. I want to be able to help him. I don't want to be a burden-

"Stop!" Ajay abruptly grabs my wrists, exposing my face to his worried gaze. Leaning forward, he rests his forehead against mine, and I am forced to look him in the eyes. "Stop Mohana. Please, don't hide from me." A sob escapes from me, and he slowly shuts his eyes and lays a gentle kiss on my forehead, wrapping me in his arms again as he rests his chin on top of my head. Then he softly whispers into my hairline, "You are not a burden."

My brain short circuits.

"How…?"

"Because I'm your brother." He says leaning back with a smile. "I know what you're most afraid of, what worries you."

His eyes gleam with heartfelt sincerity and unshed tears, as he kisses my forehead again. Then he wipes the tear tracks from my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. Holding my face in his hands, he looks deep into my eyes, searching. Trying to find any other cracks in my mind that he needs to mend. I give him a timid smile, which he returns, and we rest our foreheads against each other's. "We're in this together, Mohana. You and me."

I woke up the next morning, comfortable in my bed. And oddly enough, I feel well rested. Stretching, I attempt to get up and unravel myself from my cocoon. Ajay must have carried me and tucked me in after my panic attack last night.

Oh… that's right.

I had a panic attack last night after reading Mom's letter.

Gah! Seriously!? I'm a grown-ass woman, I shouldn't be behaving like such a child! I can't believe I- No!

No. Deep breathes Mohana. I am good, I am fine.

"Ow!" I reached up to rub my head, as I finally noticed the pounding pain in my temple. Great, I have a migraine. Why does this always happen after I have an episode? I should probably get up and find some- huh?

Sitting innocently on my bedside table was a glass of water, a couple of Ibruprofen, and a note with Ajay's chicken scratch on it.

Hey Hana,

I figured you'd wake up with a killer headache so I left you some pain meds. Take it easy today and we'll talk later to try and figure everything out. :)

Love, Ajay

I totally have the best brother in the world.

Since I could still hear Ajay's soft snores in the other room, I figured I would make breakfast for us. Something simple, and wholly American: scrambled eggs and toast with a side of crispy bacon. Soon the whole apartment began to smell with the alluring scent of bacon. And eventually, my brother came stumbling out of his room, half asleep, following his nose to the kitchen.

We finished our breakfast in silence, and it wasn't until Ajay finished his cup of coffee that he finally let out a deep sigh.

"So, we should probably talk about yesterday. About Mom's letters."

"No- ya, that probably is a good idea."

"Noya?" Ajay raised his eyebrow, giving me a mischievous look.

"Oh, shut up!" I threw my napkin at him. Which then instigated a mini food fight. But no bacon was harmed, I promise!

"So I know what you read yesterday really affected you. Which I totally get because," he takes a deep breath. "I'm worried too. But, do you have any idea what this 'grave danger' could be? Did Mom ever warn you about something?"

"I have no idea," I said shaking my head. "But, what do you mean by 'grave danger'?"

"I don't know. It's just what Mom said. Here, I'll show you." We swapped letters.

While Ajay was reading my letter, I couldn't help but catalog the expressions that crossed his face. Mainly the confusion. At least I wasn't alone in that regard.

Finally, after taking a deep breath for myself, I looked down at the note in my hands and began to read:

Ajay my son,

I have so much left to say to you. But I'm out of time. So please, take me back to Lakshmana. The journey will tell you more than I ever could. And please, look after Mohana. After I am gone, she will be in grave danger. I love you and I will always be with you.

-Ishwari Ghale

A laugh from across the table jostled me from my thoughts. "What's so funny brother?" A big grin had stretched across Ajay's face. Something that didn't seem like it belonged given the solemn nature of the letters.

"Nothing, it's just," his smile grew larger, "she called you littlest." That did bring a small to my face too, and I joined him in his laughter.

"Ya, she did," I said with a fond smile. "She never could say youngest."

"No, never! It was always, 'This Ajay my oldest, and this Mohana my littlest.'" He said, imitating our mother's voice.

"True! Even after we told her 'littlest' wasn't proper English."

"Proper English, bah!" It felt nice to joke and laugh about the good times. Almost made the looming doom seem not so bad… Ok, that sobered me up quick.

"Hey, Ajay?" I asked after our laughing had died down.

"Ya?"

"What's a Lakshmana?"

"No clue."

"So between two letters, we know absolutely nothing?"

"No, we know some things."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Care to elaborate."

"Well, we know there are 3 things… that we do not know."

This time, I am sad to say that some bacon was harmed.

After we cleaned up the mess of Food War 2.0, we were ready to get serious. We moved to the couch and I grabbed my fluffy notebook and pen. (Don't ask.)

"Ok, so 3 things? I get Lakshmana and whatever the threat is, but what's the third?"

Ajay looked over at me like I had three heads, and then he deadpanned, "Why is your hand a guy?"

"Excuse me!" I gave him an exasperated look and kicked out at him across the couch.

"No, seriously!" He dodged my foot again, damn. "Mom wrote, 'He will keep you safe', referring to your palm. Why is your palm masculine?"

"I don't know! Maybe it's just another weird English thing?" Mom was from Kyrat, so English wasn't her first language. Maybe it was- "Oh! Kyrati!"

"Yeah," he said unsure, "What about it?" By now, Ajay had grabbed hold of my foot and was keeping it hostage in his grasp, effectively fending off my attack.

"What if the Kyrati word for hand, or palm, is masculine."

Ajay got a bewildered look on his face for a second (I used this to my advantage and got my foot back. Yay!), but then his face lit up. "That actually would make a lot of sense. And, I was thinking about what Lakshmana could be, and I think it's a place. Mom wants us to bring her ashes somewhere."

"And that somewhere is probably in Kyrat."

"Exactly!" Although, the excitement didn't last long on Ajay's face. "It still doesn't explain what she meant by 'follow your palm'."

"True…" I looked down at my hands and tried to see what I was missing. All I could make out were the many crisscrossing lines that branched across my skin. Wait a minute… "Could she mean palm reading?"

"Palm reading? Like fortune telling?"

"Kind of, but it's more like predicting your future."

Ajay leaned back (out of my range…) with a pensive look. "Sooo, Mom wants you to get a palm reading, and then you should follow whatever that advice is?"

"Maybe? Do you know if palm reading is a Kyrati thing?"

"I think it's Indian."

"Kyrat is near India, right?"

"Uh, I think so."

"Ok, we should definitely double-check on that, since we will be visiting the country soon." In my notebook, I started to list any other stuff we would need to look into. Things like what weather we should expect and what kind of wild animals we could encounter.

"You're right. That is something we should know before we get there. Well-" Ajay got up from the couch and stretched, cracking his back. "I'll leave you to it then."

I looked up at him in shock. "What!? You're not going to help?"

"Nope." He said, grinning at me, as he walked backward to the door.

I closed my notebook with a snap and glared back at him. "And may I ask, why not?"

"Because - " I swear, that cheeky devil better not-

"-Not it!" I was too late. He already had his finger on his nose, as he backed out of the room with a dopey smile, giving me a wink.

"You are such a dick, Ajay Ghale!" I shouted at him and playfully threw a nearby pillow. Although, I completely missed my mark…

Laughing, he called back, "Love you too sis! Good luck with your homework!"

Suffice it to say, I couldn't find anything helpful online regarding Kyrat. Every website I checked looked like it hadn't been updated in decades. And the palm reading theory ended up being a bust too. It was actually kind of creepy.

This wise, henna-covered Indian lady said, "My future is filled with such passion, yet plagued by much violence." She then went on to tell me that I did not need to worry because my palm will protect me…

So now we are in Kyrat, going in blind, with only the unknown destination of Lakshmana to guide us. Or more specifically, the cranky, old bus driver who I don't believe even has a valid license.

We are currently zooming down dirt roads at very concerning speeds as we travel along the winding paths through the mountains. There's not even a convenient fence separating us weary souls from accidentally careening off toward our deaths. It's just a simple painted line on the edge of the road, and then a sheer thousand-foot drop into the clouds.

And a monkey will not. Stop. Touching me! A literal monkey!

Ajay thinks this whole thing is simply hilarious, but I am freaking the fuck out.

And now, they are shooting at the BUS!

- WELCOME TO KYRAT -