Mahabharat: Shiva's Last Variable

(A/N):

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Meanwhile, as the sun finally disappeared beyond the horizon, the sacred conches echoed once more across Malikavana, announcing the end of the hundredth day of war.

Pushpasura did not even bother looking back.

A satisfied smile rested upon his face as he turned around and marched towards his camp, his enormous army following behind him.

Every Rakshasa marched with renewed confidence.

The despair that had filled their ranks for the past several weeks had completely vanished.

Soon...

Loud cheers erupted from their encampment.

War drums thundered continuously.

Torches were lit across the entire camp.

The Rakshasas celebrated wildly, believing the war had finally been decided.

"The Mortal King has fallen!"

"Victory belongs to Lord Pushpasura!"

"The one who challenged our king has finally been buried!"

Their laughter echoed throughout the night as countless Rakshasas raised their weapons into the air, celebrating what they believed was the beginning of mankind’s downfall.

On the other side of the battlefield...

Silence dominated the allied camp.

"...."

"...."

"...."

No celebrations. No conversations.

Every soldier’s eyes remained fixed upon the enormous crater standing in the middle of Malikavana.

From its depths...

Thick black vines continued growing outward like living serpents.

They twisted around one another until they completely sealed the opening of the crater, forming an impenetrable prison.

Not even a faint glimpse of Devaratha could be seen anymore.

It was as though the earth itself had swallowed its king.

Ashwatthama stood near the edge of the crater.

His jaw remained tightly clenched.

His eyes never left the tangled mass of vines.

"...."

"...."

Beside him, Karna stood equally silent, his brows furrowed in thought.

After several long moments...

Ashwatthama finally broke the silence.

"We cannot simply stand here."

His voice carried unmistakable urgency.

"If those vines continue tightening... Devara will remain trapped beneath them."

Karna nodded his head in agreement.

"I agree."

He slowly raised his hand.

Golden Yogic Energy began gathering around his fingertips.

"We can destroy them."

"A Divine Astra should be sufficient."

Almost at the same moment, Ashwatthama also reached for his bow.

"If one Astra isn’t enough... then both of us shall attack together."

Just as both warriors were about to summon their Divine Astras...

A calm voice stopped them.

"No."

Both immediately paused.

They turned around.

Lord Parashurama slowly walked towards them, his expression remaining as composed as ever.

Ashwatthama frowned seeing his action was being stopped.

"Lord Parashurama. We’re wasting precious time."

"If we delay..."

Parashurama raised a hand.

"I said no."

His voice wasn’t loud.

Yet it carried unquestionable authority.

The two immortal warriors slowly lowered their weapons.

Parashurama stopped before the enormous vines.

He quietly observed them for several moments.

Then he spoke.

"Do not interfere."

Karna looked puzzled.

"But Guru... If we sever these vines... We can free him."

Parashurama slowly shook his head.

"No."

"You will only complicate matters."

His eyes remained fixed upon the prison of roots.

"What binds Devaratha now... is no longer merely these vines."

Ashwatthama narrowed his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"The true prison,"

Parashurama replied calmly,

"...is within his own mind."

Silence followed.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Hanuman, who had been standing quietly nearby, slowly stepped forward.

"If that’s the case..."

he said thoughtfully,

"then why don’t we simply lift the entire ground?"

He pointed towards the crater.

"I possess enough strength."

"I can uproot this entire section of Malikavana and throw it aside."

"If the earth itself is removed... The vines will lose their foundation."

Several warriors immediately nodded.

It sounded reasonable.

But Parashurama once again shook his head.

"No."

Hanuman looked surprised.

"I cannot?"

Parashurama looked towards him.

"You certainly possess the strength."

"I have no doubt about that."

He then looked back towards the writhing vines.

"But strength is not the answer today."

He slowly continued.

"Those vines are only the visible part of the prison."

"What truly binds him lies elsewhere."

"If we recklessly destroy what we see... we may end up disturbing the very process that is trying to save him."

Hanuman looked thoughtful.

"...Trying?"

Parashurama nodded.

"I believe... Someone has already reached him."

His words caused everyone present to become silent.

The immortal sage folded his arms.

"Have faith. He will awaken. He shall return tomorrow."

"And when he does... He will bring this war to its conclusion."

Karna looked at the crater once more.

Every instinct within him wanted to act.

Every fibre of his being wanted to free the king he respected so deeply.

Yet... He trusted his Guru.

After several moments...

He slowly nodded.

"I understand. I shall wait."

Ashwatthama, however, remained unconvinced.

His fists tightened.

His gaze never left the vines.

His heart screamed at him to ignore every order and dig his friend out with his own hands.

Yet...

He too remained silent.

"...."

His respect for Parashurama prevented him from acting.

The silence continued until another voice broke it.

"...Bhagavan¹."

Everyone turned.

Mahamantri Shakuni slowly stepped forward.

Unlike the others...

He wasn’t looking at the crater.

He was looking directly at Parashurama.

For the first time since the war had begun...

The normally composed strategist looked visibly shaken.

His voice carried unmistakable anxiety.

"You say... that my brother-in-law will awaken tomorrow."

He paused briefly. Then asked quietly,

"How certain are you?"

His eyes unconsciously drifted towards the sealed crater.

"My sister... Gandhari... is still waiting for her husband to return."

"Every single day she should be waiting for any news from his side."

His voice became slightly heavier.

"If... If something truly happens to him... what answer am I supposed to give her?"

The question lingered heavily in the air.

No one answered immediately.

Even Hanuman lowered his gaze.

The entire camp had grown attached to Devaratha.

But for Shakuni...

This was far more personal.

He wasn’t merely fighting beside his king.

He was waiting alongside his own family.

Parashurama slowly looked towards him.

Just as he was about to answer...

The distant sound of chariot wheels echoed across the battlefield.

Rumble...

Rumble...

Every warrior instinctively turned.

A magnificent chariot approached from the northern road.

Its banner fluttered proudly beneath the moonlight.

The horses pulling it moved with disciplined precision.

Several guards immediately became alert.

Ashwatthama instinctively raised his hand.

"Hold."

The soldiers stopped where they were.

As the chariot drew closer...

Ashwatthama’s expression changed.

He immediately stepped forward before respectfully folding his hands.

"My respects... Pitamaha."

The chariot came to a halt.

Standing upon it...

Wrapped in spotless white garments and holding his immense bow...

Was none other than Bhishma.

The Grand Sire slowly stepped down from his chariot.

His sharp eyes immediately swept across the battlefield.

Ashwatthama quickly explained everything that had happened.

From Pushpasura’s final assault...

To Devaratha being buried beneath the earth...

To the strange vines sealing the crater.

Bhishma listened without interrupting even once.

"...."

When Ashwatthama finally finished...

Bhishma slowly turned towards the enormous prison of black vines.

His ancient eyes narrowed.

He remained silent for several long moments.

Then...

Without saying a single word...

His gaze slowly shifted beyond the battlefield...

Towards the brightly lit Rakshasa camp...

Where the sounds of celebration still echoed into the night.

Bhishma continued looking towards the distant Rakshasa camp.

Even from where they stood, the sounds of celebration could still be heard.

War drums.

Loud laughter.

The clash of weapons raised in triumph.

To them...

The war had already ended.

Bhishma slowly withdrew his gaze.

His eyes moved towards the enormous prison of black vines covering the crater where Devaratha had disappeared.

For several long moments...

He remained silent.

Then he turned around.

Without hesitation, the Grand Sire walked towards Lord Parashurama.

The moment he reached his Guru...

Bhishma respectfully folded both hands before bowing deeply.

"My respects, Gurudev¹."

Parashurama looked at his eldest disciple and gave a small nod.

"Rise, Devavrata."

Bhishma slowly straightened himself.

Although his face remained composed, the concern in his eyes was impossible to hide.

He rarely questioned his Guru.

Yet today...

He could not remain silent.

"Gurudev¹..."

he began respectfully,

"forgive this disciple for asking."

"But..."

He glanced once towards the sealed crater.

"How can you be so certain?"

"You’ve stopped Karna."

"You’ve stopped Ashwatthama."

"You’ve even stopped Lord Hanuman."

"None of us are allowed to interfere."

His voice became slightly heavier.

"And yet... You say with such confidence ...that Devaratha will return tomorrow."

Bhishma looked directly into his Guru’s eyes.

"What gives you such certainty?"

The battlefield grew quiet.

Everyone present unconsciously looked towards Parashurama.

They wanted the answer as well.

Parashurama remained silent for a brief moment.

Then...

A faint smile appeared upon the immortal sage’s face.

It wasn’t the smile of someone making a hopeful guess.

It was the smile of someone who simply knew.

He slowly looked towards the tangled prison of vines.

Then quietly said,

"Because... I trust your younger brother who is also my student."

The simple answer made several warriors blink.

Parashurama continued.

"I have trained him. I know his heart."

"I know the strength of his resolve."

"He has crossed obstacles that should have broken him long ago."

"He has carried burdens no king should ever have to bear."

"And every single time... He stood back up."

The sage folded his arms.

"This hurdle ...will be no different."

His gaze remained unwavering.

"He will find the path. He always does."

"And when he awakens..."

A faint glimmer appeared in his eyes.

"...he shall finish what he started."

Silence followed once more.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Bhishma quietly listened.

After several moments...

He could only let out a slow sigh.

"I suppose... there truly is nothing more we can do."

His eyes drifted towards the sealed crater once again.

"When Mother Ganga sent word to me... she asked me to come immediately."

"I left everything behind."

"I travelled without rest."

"I thought... I would arrive in time to stand beside my younger brother."

A faint smile appeared on Bhishma’s face.

One mixed equally with helplessness and affection.

"Instead... I arrive only to find that the battle is nearly over."

"My younger brother is buried beneath the earth."

"And now... even I must simply wait."

He shook his head gently.

"What an impatient elder brother I have become."

Parashurama looked at him knowingly.

"It is because you care."

Bhishma nodded quietly.

"Perhaps."

His eyes slowly hardened.

The warmth disappeared.

In its place remained only the resolve of the warrior who had once shaken the entire world.

He slowly turned.

Once again...

His gaze settled upon the distant Rakshasa encampment.

The celebrations still continued.

The sight alone caused the temperature around him to seemingly drop.

Those standing nearby could feel the subtle change.

The calm Grand Sire...

Had vanished.

In his place stood Devavrata Bhishma.

The undefeated guardian of the Kuru lineage.

His fingers slowly tightened around the shaft of his massive bow.

His voice was calm.

Almost frighteningly calm.

"So... They dared."

"They dared to bury my younger brother beneath the earth... and now celebrate as though they have already won."

No anger appeared upon his face.

No rage.

Only an icy stillness.

Those who knew Bhishma understood one thing.

His silence was always more terrifying than his fury.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Ashwatthama unconsciously smiled.

Karna looked towards Bhishma with interest.

Even Hanuman folded his arms, already sensing what the Grand Sire intended.

Bhishma slowly looked towards the Rakshasa camp one final time.

His eyes were as sharp as drawn arrows.

"Very well. They wished to celebrate tonight."

"They may do so."

His grip upon the bow tightened.

"But tomorrow..."

His voice echoed quietly across the battlefield.

"I shall remind them... what it means... to provoke the elder brother of King Devaratha."

He slowly began walking towards his own camp.

Each step carried the weight of a mountain.

Without looking back, he spoke one final sentence.

"Until my brother rises from beneath that earth... I shall ensure not a single Rakshasa finds peace upon this battlefield."

The warriors standing behind him exchanged glances.

None of them doubted those words.

For tomorrow...

The Rakshasas would not merely face another warrior.

They would face the legendary Bhishma Pitamaha, whose wrath had remained restrained only because his younger brother had insisted on leading the war.

Now...

That restraint had begun to disappear.

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