She climbed back up the stairs.
It was dawn. She didn't know how long she had been underground. Hours, she thought. Maybe more.
Kavi was waiting at the top with chai in a steel glass. Meera was there too, sitting against the wall with her notebook closed, and Arya understood that Meera had stayed all night.
"Well?" Kavi said.
"It's done," Arya said.
Kavi made a sound that was halfway between a sob and a laugh and pressed the chai into her hands.
Meera stood up. She looked at Arya for a long moment.
"The dam review board met yesterday," she said. "I found out twenty minutes ago. They're recommending full cancellation of Phase 3. The corruption documents we submitted were enough. Combined with the community story — it's done. They're not building it."
Arya held the chai glass in both hands. It was warm.
"The legal fight will continue," Meera said. "The minister whose nephew got those contracts isn't going quietly. There will be more stories to write. More battles."
"I know," Arya said.
"And Kishkindha can't stay completely hidden anymore," Meera said. "The story is already out. People know something is there. The government knows. You're going to have to decide how much more to reveal — and how to protect your people while doing it."
"I know that too," Arya said.
She looked out at the forest — the pre-dawn light just beginning to touch the highest leaves, the morning birds beginning their noise, the old stone of Kishkindha glowing in that first pale light like it had glowed for three thousand years.
Eleven thousand people waking up. Making chai. Arguing. Worrying. Living.
Still here.
"There's a lot of work ahead," Arya said.
"Yes," Meera agreed.
Arya drank her chai. It was good. It was the best thing she'd ever tasted.
She stood up.
"Okay," she said. "Let's start."
