Mahabharat: Shiva's Last Variable

(A/N):

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Yami’s confession came to an end.

The words she had been desperately holding inside her heart for so long had finally been spoken.

The room became completely silent.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Only the gentle crackling of the oil lamp and the peaceful breathing of the two sleeping children from the adjoining room broke the silence.

Yami still refused to raise her head.

Both of her hands continued holding Devaratha’s firmly, almost as though she feared that the moment she let go,

She would lose the courage to continue.

Tears slowly rolled down her cheeks and fell onto the back of his hands.

She waited.

She didn’t know what he would say.

She didn’t even know whether he would believe her.

For several long moments...

Devaratha simply remained seated without saying a single word.

His eyes never left Yami.

He wanted to speak.

Yet every sentence that came to his mind disappeared before reaching his lips.

Finally...

A faint smile appeared on his face.

It wasn’t a joyful smile.

It was the smile of someone who had just heard something so impossible that the only natural response was disbelief.

He let out a soft chuckle.

"Yami..."

His voice remained as gentle as ever.

"You’ve always had quite the imagination."

He slowly lifted one of his hands and wiped away the tears flowing down her cheeks.

"You really expect me to believe..."

"...that everything we’ve lived through..."

"...never actually happened?"

He slowly stood up and looked around the room.

The familiar walls.

The warm glow of the lamps.

The moonlight entering through the open window.

The gentle breeze carrying the fragrance of jasmine from the palace garden.

Everything looked exactly as it had every single night.

Nothing seemed out of place.

He walked towards the doorway and quietly looked into the children’s room.

The little boy had rolled over once again, pushing away his blanket in his sleep.

The little girl hugged her little cloth doll tightly while softly mumbling something that neither of them could understand.

A smile unconsciously appeared on Devaratha’s face.

He quietly walked over.

Without making any noise, he bent down and carefully covered his son with the blanket once again.

The little boy instinctively held onto his father’s hand for a brief moment before continuing to sleep peacefully.

Devaratha gently smiled.

He then walked towards his daughter and carefully adjusted the pillow beneath her head.

She smiled faintly in her sleep.

Seeing the peaceful faces of the two children...

His heart softened.

He slowly turned back towards Yami.

"Look at them."

His voice had become even softer.

"They’re sleeping so peacefully."

"I’ve watched them grow."

"I was there when our son took his first steps."

"I remember how frightened I was when our daughter developed a fever."

"I remember teaching him archery."

"I remember carrying her on my shoulders because she refused to walk."

He gave a helpless smile.

"I remember every festival."

"Every birthday. Every little argument."

"Every ordinary day."

His eyes became distant.

"None of those memories feel false."

"They feel... like my own life."

He slowly shook his head.

"I don’t know how such things could simply be an illusion."

Yami quietly listened.

Every word he spoke pierced her own heart.

Because she knew...

Those memories were not real.

Yet even she had begun believing them.

She finally gathered enough courage to whisper.

"I know... They feel real."

"They feel real because this illusion doesn’t create simple dreams."

"It creates an entire life."

"It fills every empty space with memories."

"It makes your heart believe that you’ve lived through all of it."

She slowly raised one trembling hand and placed it against her own chest.

"I almost forgot too."

"There were moments..."

"...when I forgot why I had entered this place."

"I almost believed this really was our life."

She closed her eyes.

"If Lord Vishnu’s voice hadn’t reached me..."

"I would still be here."

"I would have chosen this world without even realizing it."

Devaratha remained silent.

"...."

Her words slowly settled inside his heart.

He wanted to deny them.

He wanted to tell himself she was simply confused.

That perhaps she had become trapped inside some strange dream.

Then... A voice echoed. Very faint.

Almost too faint to hear.

"...Father..."

Devaratha frowned. His eyes slowly narrowed.

"...What?"

The voice came again.

This time clearer.

It wasn’t coming from anywhere around him.

It echoed from somewhere deep inside his own mind.

"...I promise..."

"...I shall take responsibility for Pushpasura."

"...If fate has chosen me... then I shall carry it until the very end."

Devaratha suddenly froze.

"...."

His breathing stopped.

That voice... It belonged to him.

There was no mistake.

He knew every tone.

Every pause.

Every emotion carried within those words.

He had spoken them himself.

Then another voice answered.

Gentle. Calm.

Filled with immeasurable compassion.

"My son... You have chosen your path."

"So let fate unfold through your own hands."

Lord Vishnu.

The moment he recognized that voice...

A sharp pain exploded inside his head.

He instinctively held both sides of his head.

"...Aah..."

His vision suddenly blurred.

Another memory appeared. Then another. Then another.

Like a dam breaking apart, countless memories rushed back into his mind all at once.

He saw himself standing before Lord Vishnu.

He remembered accepting the responsibility of ending Pushpasura.

He remembered leaving Vaikuntha.

Training under Lord Shiva.

Sparring against Lord Kartikeya.

Receiving teachings from Lord Parashurama.

His coronation. His kingdom.

Gandhari.

And all his wives.

Shakuni.

Hanuman.

Ashwatthama.

Karna.

Every single face returned.

Then...

The battlefield. The first day of war.

The second. The tenth. The twenty-fifth.

The fiftieth. The seventy-first. The hundredth.

Every wound Pushpasura inflicted upon him.

Every punch. Every broken bone.

Every hallucination created by the Anandamohana Kusuma.

The unbearable longing each evening after the illusion disappeared.

The moment Pushpasura slammed him beneath the earth.

The black vines wrapping around his body.

Everything returned with terrifying clarity.

His breathing became ragged.

His entire body began trembling.

"...No..."

He stumbled backwards until he leaned against the wall.

"...No..."

His eyes rapidly moved around the room once again.

The palace. The furniture. The decorations. The moonlight.

For the first time...

Something felt different.

The colours looked strangely brighter than they should have.

The shadows remained completely still despite the wind.

The flame of the oil lamp no longer danced naturally.

His breathing became heavier.

"No..."

He whispered.

"This... this isn’t..."

He slowly looked towards Yami.

She still hadn’t looked into his eyes.

She simply stood there silently crying.

She hadn’t tried forcing him to believe.

She hadn’t argued with him.

She had only told him the truth.

No matter how much it hurt her.

Another memory suddenly surfaced.

Lord Vishnu.

His warning to Yami.

The pearl necklace. Surya Loka. The celestial mirror.

Yami entering his consciousness.

Everything connected together.

His knees almost gave way.

He slowly turned his head towards the room where the children were sleeping.

The little boy.

The little girl.

The countless years they had supposedly lived together.

His heart tightened so painfully that he struggled to breathe.

He wanted to run towards them.

He wanted to tell himself they were real.

He wanted to protect them.

Yet...

The memories returning to him refused to stop.

They continued tearing apart the beautiful lie piece by piece.

Hanuman...

Ashwatthama...

Karna...

Guru Parashurama...

Bhishma...

His kingdom...

His people...

They were all waiting.

Waiting for him to open his eyes.

Waiting for their king.

Tears slowly gathered in Devaratha’s own eyes.

He looked around the room one final time.

His voice trembled.

"So... This ...was never..."

He couldn’t continue.

The words refused to leave his mouth.

His lips shook violently.

Finally...

With tears flowing freely from his eyes...

He whispered.

"...It’s all an illusion."

The instant those words escaped his lips...

A faint cracking sound echoed through the room.

A thin crack appeared across one of the marble pillars.

Then another spread across the ceiling.

The walls began trembling.

The beautiful palace that had existed so perfectly only moments ago...

Had finally begun to reject the lie upon which it had been built.

The moment the words left Devaratha’s mouth...

"...It’s all an illusion."

A deep rumble echoed throughout the palace.

Crack...

A thin fracture appeared across one of the marble pillars.

Then another.

Then another.

Within seconds, countless cracks spread in every direction like spider webs crawling over glass.

The beautifully painted ceiling began to split apart.

The golden pillars trembled.

The crystal chandeliers hanging from above started swaying violently.

The sacred lamps flickered uncontrollably.

Outside the palace...

The once clear blue sky began filling with enormous fractures of white light.

The mountains in the distance blurred.

The rivers shimmered unnaturally.

The gardens where flowers had bloomed so peacefully only moments ago slowly began losing their colours.

The entire world...

Was collapsing.

The illusion had finally begun rejecting the truth.

The violent shaking spread through the palace.

Furniture overturned.

Stone fragments crashed onto the floor.

The walls groaned as though the palace itself was crying.

Suddenly...

From the children’s room came two frightened voices.

"Father!"

"Mother!"

The little boy and little girl rushed out as fast as their tiny legs could carry them.

Their faces were filled with fear.

Neither of them understood what was happening.

Another violent tremor shook the palace.

Without thinking...

Both children ran straight towards Devaratha.

The little boy threw himself against his father’s waist.

The little girl tightly wrapped both her little arms around his leg.

"Father!"

"Everything is breaking!"

"We’re scared..."

"Please don’t leave us!"

For a single moment...

Devaratha simply stood there.

"...."

His heart tightened painfully.

His arms moved almost on instinct.

He slowly knelt down. Without hesitation...

He pulled both children into his embrace.

Holding them tightly against his chest.

He gently rested his chin upon the little boy’s head while one hand softly stroked the girl’s long hair.

Neither child stopped crying.

They simply buried their little faces against him.

Looking at them...

Every memory this illusion had created came flooding back once again.

Their first smiles. Their first words.

Teaching his son to hold a bow.

Carrying his daughter asleep after she insisted she wasn’t tired.

Listening to their endless questions.

Watching them argue over the smallest things.

Celebrating birthdays.

Sharing meals.

Watching them grow.

Every memory... Every laugh... Every tear...

Even if they had been born from an illusion...

The feelings they left behind inside his heart...

Were real.

Devaratha slowly closed his eyes.

For a brief moment...

He simply embraced them.

As though engraving this final moment into his soul forever.

When he finally opened his eyes again...

There was sadness.

But there was no hesitation.

He gently placed one hand on each of their heads.

His voice was calm.

Warm.

Filled with the same affection every father carried when comforting his children.

"My little ones..."

The children slowly looked up at him through tear-filled eyes.

"Listen carefully. I know you don’t understand what’s happening."

"And I don’t expect you to."

He smiled softly.

"But I want you both to remember one thing."

His fingers gently brushed away the tears on their little faces.

"This..."

He looked around the collapsing palace.

"...isn’t the end."

"It’s only a promise waiting to become real."

The little boy looked at him in confusion.

"Father...?"

The little girl tightened her grip around his hand.

"Are you leaving?"

Devaratha’s smile became even gentler.

"For now... yes."

"But only for now."

He gently kissed each of them on the forehead.

"Your mother..."

He looked towards Yami.

"...and your father... will meet you again."

"Not inside a dream. Not inside an illusion."

"But in the real world."

His emerald eyes became firm.

"I promise you."

"Every laugh we shared. Every memory we made."

"One day... we’ll create all of them again."

"They won’t be borrowed memories."

"They’ll be ours. Every single one."

He softly touched both of their cheeks.

"So... Wait for us."

"When that day comes... I’ll introduce myself to you properly."

His smile carried both pain and hope.

"And I’ll proudly tell you... ’I’m your father.’"

The little boy blinked several times.

"I don’t understand..."

The little girl looked equally confused.

"What real world?"

"What are you talking about?"

Devaratha simply smiled.

He didn’t answer.

Instead...

He pulled both of them into one final embrace.

"...Thank you."

"For giving me a happiness I never knew I longed for."

The palace shook violently once again.

The cracks reached the floor beneath their feet.

Golden light began pouring through every fracture.

The children’s bodies slowly started becoming transparent.

The little girl instinctively reached towards him.

"Father..."

The little boy extended his hand.

"...Don’t go."

Devaratha held their tiny hands until the very last possible moment.

"We will meet again."

He whispered.

"I swear it."

The children’s confused expressions slowly softened.

Although they still didn’t understand...

Both of them smiled. Just like they always had.

Then...

Their little figures dissolved into countless golden petals that scattered into the wind.

The palace disappeared.

The walls vanished.

The sky shattered completely.

Everything dissolved into endless light.

When the brilliance finally faded... Devaratha slowly opened his eyes.

He found himself once again standing amidst the endless field of flowers.

The same place where his nightmare had first begun.

The same endless valley.

The same intoxicating fragrance.

Only this time...

He wasn’t alone.

Yami stood a few steps away from him.

Neither of them spoke immediately.

"...."

"...."

"...."

The silence between them felt strangely comfortable.

Not awkward. Not unfamiliar.

The illusion had been false.

But the emotions they had experienced together inside it...

Had quietly erased the distance that had once existed between them.

They had laughed together.

Cried together.

Shared years that had never truly happened.

Yet somehow...

They now understood one another far better than they had before entering this place.

Devaratha slowly walked towards her.

Yami nervously looked away.

She suddenly remembered something.

Their first meeting. The riverbank.

The cheerful fisherwoman who had introduced herself with such confidence.

Except...

She hadn’t actually been a fisherwoman at all.

Before she could say anything...

Tap!

A finger gently flicked her forehead.

"Ow..."

Yami instinctively covered her forehead before looking up in surprise.

Devaratha stood before her with a faint smile.

"That..."

he said calmly,

"...was for lying to me."

Yami blinked hearing him.

"...Lying?"

He folded his arms.

"The fisherwoman. You remember?"

"You looked me straight in the eyes and insisted you were just an ordinary fisherwoman."

"I actually believed you."

Yami stared at him for a second.

Then...

She couldn’t help it.

A small laugh escaped her lips.

"So... You remembered that?"

"I remembered enough."

Devaratha replied with a quiet chuckle.

"You really should work on your disguises."

"They’re not nearly as convincing as you think."

Yami rubbed her forehead dramatically.

"I came all the way into your mind to save you..."

"And the first thing you do... is flick my forehead."

"How heartless."

Devaratha shrugged innocently.

"I thought it was fair. You deceived me first."

Yami pouted hearing him.

"I wasn’t deceiving you. I was..."

She paused.

Trying to think of an excuse.

"...conducting an investigation."

Devaratha raised an eyebrow.

"By pretending to catch fish?"

"..."

"...It sounded better in my head."

For the first time since entering the illusion...

Both of them laughed. A genuine laugh.

Free from fear. Free from sorrow.

The endless flower field remained unchanged around them.

Yet somehow...

It no longer felt as oppressive as before.

The years they had spent together inside the illusion had never truly existed.

The children... The palace... The marriage...

They had all vanished like morning mist.

But those borrowed memories had left behind something real.

Trust.

Understanding.

A quiet closeness neither of them had possessed before.

Yami looked at Devaratha with a gentle smile.

There was no embarrassment now.

No awkwardness. Only quiet reassurance.

And Devaratha, meeting her gaze without hesitation, smiled back.

For whatever awaited them outside this illusion...

They would face it together.

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(Author note:)

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