Mahabharat: Shiva's Last Variable

(A/N):

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Veenadhara slowly exhaled.

His racing heartbeat gradually settled.

He looked around the underground sanctuary once again.

The nightmare had disappeared.

Children were quietly running around in small groups, their innocent laughter bringing a little warmth to the gloomy chamber.

Mothers sat together preparing simple meals from the remaining rations while speaking in hushed voices.

The elderly continued chanting sacred hymns, praying for the safety of the warriors fighting above.

Several guards stood watch near the concealed entrance, carrying out their duty with disciplined vigilance.

Everything looked peaceful.

Everything looked normal.

The old sage closed his eyes for a brief moment.

"It was only a nightmare..."

he murmured under his breath.

"My exhausted mind has begun playing tricks on me."

He slowly shook his head, trying to brush away the lingering uneasiness clinging to his heart.

Just then...

The sound of footsteps echoed through the stone passage leading towards the entrance.

They were calm.

Measured.

Exactly like the footsteps of trained soldiers returning from patrol.

Veenadhara instinctively turned his head.

A group of guards emerged from the passage.

The one leading them respectfully folded his hands before speaking.

"Revered Sage."

"We have completed the inspection of the outer passage. Everything remains secure."

"We’re returning now so the next patrol may take over the watch."

The moment those words reached Veenadhara’s ears...

His body completely froze.

His breathing stopped.

His old eyes slowly widened.

Those words...

Not merely similar. Not almost the same.

They were identical.

Every single word. Every pause. Every tone of voice.

It was exactly what the guard had said inside his nightmare.

The old sage’s face immediately turned pale.

His gaze rapidly shifted towards the concealed entrance.

His heart began pounding against his chest once again.

"No..."

he whispered.

"No..."

His mind desperately searched for another explanation.

Perhaps it was coincidence.

Perhaps he was overthinking.

Then...

One of the guards casually walked towards the hidden mechanism built into the wall beside the temple passage.

He stretched out his hand.

Exactly...

Exactly as he had done inside the nightmare.

At that instant...

Every horrifying scene Veenadhara had witnessed came rushing back.

The blood covering the floor.

The cries of terrified children.

The severed head of Kumaravarma rolling across the stone.

The three Rakshasas emerging from the darkness.

The old sage’s eyes widened in horror.

"STOP!!"

His voice exploded throughout the underground chamber with such force that every conversation immediately came to an end.

The children stopped running.

The women instinctively hugged those nearest to them.

Every guard turned towards him in confusion.

"Do not touch that entrance!"

Veenadhara shouted again, his voice filled with an urgency no one had ever heard from him before.

"Step away from the wall immediately!"

"There are enemies waiting outside!"

The guards looked at one another in confusion.

One of them respectfully spoke.

"Revered Sage... we inspected the passage only a short while ago. There wasn’t anyone..."

"I SAID MOVE!"

The old sage’s voice thundered through the chamber once more.

"There are three Rakshasas hiding beyond that entrance!"

"They’re waiting for you to open the passage!"

"Step away from it!"

"NOW!"

The commanding authority in his voice left no room for hesitation.

Although none of the guards understood what had happened, they immediately obeyed.

The guard who had been reaching for the mechanism quickly stepped backward, pulling the others with him.

A strange silence followed.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Everyone stared at the concealed entrance.

Nothing happened.

For one brief moment...

Several people even wondered whether the sage had truly been mistaken.

Then...

A slow clap echoed from beyond the stone wall.

Clap...

Clap...

Clap...

The sound travelled through the narrow passage before reaching the underground chamber.

Every person present felt a chill run down their spine.

A deep voice followed.

"Interesting..."

Another voice laughed.

"It seems the old man saw through us."

A third voice answered with amusement.

"That saves us the trouble of pretending any longer."

The next instant...

A deafening explosion shook the underground chamber.

BOOOOOOM!!

The concealed stone entrance burst apart.

Massive pieces of rock flew across the chamber.

Dust and shattered stone filled the air.

Several civilians instinctively screamed and covered their heads.

The guards immediately raised their shields.

As the cloud of dust slowly settled...

Three enormous figures walked forward through the ruined entrance.

Their human disguises had completely disappeared.

Standing there now were three Rakshasas.

Their skin was dark like burnt iron.

Their crimson eyes glowed within the dimly lit chamber.

Long curved fangs protruded from their mouths while black veins pulsed beneath their skin.

The first carried two wicked-looking curved blades dripping with old dried blood.

The second rested a long spear across his shoulder, its black shaft covered with strange pulsating roots.

The third...

The tallest among them...

Carried an enormous executioner’s sword that looked almost too large for any ordinary creature to wield.

He slowly swept his gaze across the chamber.

His smile grew wider with every passing second.

"So..."

he said, his voice echoing against the stone walls.

"This is where you’ve hidden everyone."

His eyes slowly travelled across the frightened civilians.

The elderly. The women. The children.

Then...

They settled upon the members of the royal family.

Princess Indhumati.

Queen Padmavati.

Kumaravarma.

The Rakshasa slowly licked the corner of his lips.

"What thoughtful hosts."

"You’ve gathered all our targets into one convenient place."

The remaining guards immediately moved without waiting for orders.

With disciplined precision they formed a defensive wall between the Rakshasas and the civilians.

Every spear pointed forward.

Every shield locked together.

The captain of the guards raised his sword.

"No one gets past us!"

The tallest Rakshasa looked at the defensive formation.

Then...

He laughed.

Not loudly. Not wildly.

Just a quiet laugh filled with complete contempt.

"You mortals truly never learn."

Without another word...

He casually swung the massive sword resting upon his shoulder.

The strike wasn’t even aimed carefully.

It was merely a lazy swing.

Yet the terrifying force behind it created a black crescent of Yogic Energy that tore through the air.

The guards barely had time to react.

BOOM!

The entire front line was blown backward.

Several shields shattered instantly.

Three guards were thrown into the stone pillars with enough force to crack them.

Before they could recover...

The second Rakshasa disappeared.

He reappeared in the middle of the formation.

His twin blades danced through the air.

Blood splashed across the chamber.

One guard collapsed before he even realised he had been cut.

Another tried thrusting his spear.

The Rakshasa caught it with one hand before snapping it like dry wood and driving the broken shaft straight through the soldier’s chest.

Meanwhile...

The third Rakshasa calmly walked forward, spinning his spear.

Every thrust claimed another life.

Every step left another body upon the floor.

Within only a few moments...

The guards stationed at the entrance had all fallen.

Some lay motionless.

Others still struggled to breathe.

Blood slowly spread across the stone floor.

Veenadhara’s heart sank.

His nightmare...

Every single scene...

Was unfolding before his own eyes exactly as he had witnessed it.

The old sage tightened his grip around his wooden staff until his knuckles turned white.

"It truly was... a divine warning."

Fear spread through the underground chamber.

Mothers instinctively pulled their children behind them.

Several children began crying loudly.

The elderly gathered together, reciting the names of the gods with trembling voices.

Princess Indhumati immediately stepped forward, placing herself before the younger children despite having no weapon in her hands.

Queen Padmavati remained standing beside her, refusing to retreat even as fear became visible in her eyes.

Kumaravarma slowly stepped beside the guards even through he was scared.

Although fear was written clearly across his face...

He still stood his ground.

The tallest Rakshasa smiled with obvious satisfaction.

His eyes slowly moved across every frightened face.

He enjoyed what he saw.

This fear.

This hopelessness.

This despair.

He had come here precisely to witness it.

Veenadhara slowly walked forward until he stood between the Rakshasas and the civilians.

His aged body was frail.

His robes were stained with dust from the explosion.

Yet the old sage stood as straight as a mountain.

He raised his wooden staff before him.

His voice, though old, carried unwavering resolve.

"As long as this old body still draws breath..."

"...none of you shall take another step towards them."

The three Rakshasas looked at one another.

For a second...

Silence lingered.

Then all three burst into laughter.

The tallest one pointed his sword towards the old sage.

"You?"

His grin widened.

"An old hermit plans to stop the three of us?"

He slowly began walking forward.

Each step echoed heavily through the chamber.

"No..."

he said with cruel amusement.

"We’re not here because of you."

His glowing crimson eyes slowly moved past Veenadhara.

They settled upon the frightened royal family standing behind him.

Then across the hundreds of civilians gathered inside the sanctuary.

His smile slowly became even more sinister.

"We’re here..."

"...to make sure not a single soul hiding beneath this temple sees another sunrise."

The three Rakshasas continued laughing.

Their laughter echoed through the underground sanctuary, bouncing off the stone walls until it reached every frightened civilian hiding behind Sage Veenadhara.

To them...

The old sage standing before them wasn’t an obstacle.

He was entertainment.

The tallest Rakshasa rested his enormous executioner’s sword upon his shoulder and looked Veenadhara up and down before letting out another amused chuckle.

"Old man..."

he sneered.

"Look at yourself. Those trembling hands..."

"That frail body... You can barely stand upright."

He slowly pointed the tip of his sword towards the sage’s chest.

"And you wish to stop us?"

The other two Rakshasas burst into laughter once again.

One of them mockingly folded his hands.

"Oh mighty sage, forgive us!"

"We failed to notice we were standing before the greatest warrior in all three worlds."

The third Rakshasa wiped away an imaginary tear.

"Perhaps he’ll defeat us by lecturing us to death."

The three laughed even louder.

Every word dripped with ridicule.

Every laugh carried complete contempt.

Veenadhara remained standing quietly.

"...."

He neither became angry nor reacted immediately.

Instead...

Their laughter reminded him of someone.

Someone he had spent centuries trying to forget.

A version of himself before he meet Devara...

Before wisdom had humbled his heart...

There had been another man.

A man intoxicated by his own knowledge.

He would travel from kingdom to kingdom searching for scholars.

From hermitages to royal courts. From temples to academies.

Not to learn... But to challenge.

Anyone who displayed even the slightest talent would immediately become his target.

"If you truly call yourself a scholar... Debate me. If you claim mastery over music... Compete against me. If you boast of your voice... Sing before me."

He never cared whether they accepted willingly.

He would provoke them.

Mock them.

Corner them with words until they had no choice but to accept.

Then...

Once the contest began...

He would utterly humiliate them.

Not because he sought knowledge.

Not because he wished to improve.

But because he enjoyed watching the pride disappear from another person’s face.

Their defeated expressions... Their silence...

Their embarrassment...

He had once taken pleasure in all of it.

Even now...

Thinking about that version of himself filled him with shame.

The old sage slowly lowered his eyes.

’...So this...’

he thought quietly,

’...is what I must have looked like.’

Not in appearance.

But in spirit. Arrogant. Cruel.

Finding amusement in another person’s helplessness.

The realization struck him deeply.

For a brief moment...

He almost pitied the three Rakshasas standing before him.

Because he knew exactly where such arrogance always led.

His thoughts returned to the present.

He slowly raised his head.

The three Rakshasas were still laughing.

Behind him...

Hundreds of frightened civilians waited.

Children clung desperately to their mothers.

Princess Indhumati stood protecting them despite having no weapon.

Queen Padmavati silently prayed.

Kumaravarma’s hands shook ever so slightly, yet he refused to retreat.

Veenadhara quietly swallowed.

His throat had become dry.

He wasn’t a warrior.

He had never trained with swords.

His body had long grown old.

If one of those Rakshasas truly decided to attack...

He knew very well what would happen.

He would die.

Perhaps within a single strike.

His heart beat faster. His palms grew damp.

Fear... Real fear...

Slowly spread through him.

For the first time in many years... He openly admitted it to himself.

’I am afraid.’

There was no shame in that thought.

Only honesty.

He slowly closed his eyes.

Taking one long... Deep breath. Then another.

The fear remained.

But it no longer controlled him.

When he finally opened his eyes again...

They had become calm.

Not because he believed he could defeat them through strength.

He couldn’t. Not even one of them.

But strength wasn’t the only weapon given by the Divine.

A warrior fought with weapons.

A sage...

Fought with wisdom.

His entire life had been devoted to knowledge.

To understanding minds. To reading people.

To recognising pride.

To seeing weakness hidden beneath arrogance.

’If I cannot overpower them... Then I shall overcome them another way.’

’The Creator did not give every man the same weapon. Mine was never the sword.Mine has always been knowledge.’

The old sage slowly straightened his back.

The trembling in his hands gradually disappeared.

His grip around the wooden staff became firm once again.

He looked directly into the eyes of the tallest Rakshasa.

For the first time...

He smiled.

It wasn’t a mocking smile.

Nor was it one born from confidence.

It was the quiet smile of an old man who had finally remembered what he truly excelled at.

’I may not defeat you... But I shall make you fight on ground where age is not a weakness.’

’On the battlefield of the mind... Even a king can kneel before a sage.’

The Rakshasa noticed the change.

His laughter slowly faded.

"...Old man."

"What are you smiling about?"

Veenadhara rested both hands upon the top of his staff.

His voice remained calm.

Steady.

Completely free of panic.

"I was merely remembering..."

"...how many days it has been... since someone challenged me."

The three Rakshasas exchanged puzzled glances.

The old sage’s smile grew just a little wider.

And deep within his mind...

A plan had already begun to take shape.

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