"She is destruction incarnate-everything she touches turns to ash."
Ishani, a sharp-witted and fiercely independent businesswoman from the modern world, trusts no one, least of all men. But fate has other plans. Thrust into a treacherous era of warr...
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A week later,
Brihadbala's fist struck the armrest of his throne. Each facet seemed to catch and amplify his fury, turning the crown into a weapon of his will. "You will not go to Hastinapur!" His voice, usually a command that brooked no argument, was thick with a raw, desperate edge, betraying the fear that lay beneath his kingly anger.
Ishani stood before him, unmoving, a figure of quiet defiance. Her silk robes, the rich fabric a stark contrast to the cold marble floor, whispered around her like a defiant sigh.
" I am not asking for permission, Pita Shree. When Rajkumar Duryodhana left from here, I should have gone, but I wished to make a dramatic entrance and show them who they messed with." she stated, her voice clear and unwavering. Karna stood in the shadows, not knowing whether to laugh or hit his head at her love for drama.
The King of Kosala looked towards Krishna. His expression was infuriatingly serene, a calm ocean in the face of a raging storm. There was a knowing, almost amused, glint in his eyes, as if he were watching a play unfold, a play whose ending he already knew. "You allow this madness?" Brihadbala demanded, his voice laced with a desperate plea, seeking an ally in this battle of wills.
Krishna's smile, enigmatic and knowing, stretched across his face. It was a smile that spoke of destinies woven long before mortal men had walked the earth, of forces far beyond their control. "Who am I to forbid destiny?" he replied, his voice a low, melodious hum that seemed to resonate with the very stones of the hall.
Brihadbala turned back to his daughter, his anger slowly giving way to a raw, heart-wrenching plea. "They poisoned you," he rasped, the words heavy with the memory of her suffering, the lingering trauma that haunted them both.
"And I survived," Ishani replied, her voice ringing with a strength that belied her delicate appearance. "But if I let fear rule me, then the curse of Kali Yuga wins. If I cower in the face of danger, then everything will be for naught. I will not be that girl again."
He looked at his daughter, his heart torn between the desire to shield her from harm and the reluctant recognition of her strength. Finally, with a sound like a wounded beast, a guttural growl of defeat and reluctant acceptance, he wrenched the royal seal from his finger.
"Then go," he conceded, his voice thick with unshed tears, "Go as Kosala's voice, as my voice. Let them hear the strength of our people, the righteousness of our cause. But," he hesitated, his gaze shifting towards the shadows, "take him with you."
He jerked his chin toward the shadows—where Karna stood, where his complexion dulled to a more subdued bronze in the torchlight. A storm raged within me.
My Goddess... The word was a prayer, a desperate plea, and a burgeoning obsession. Karna yearned to stride forward, to seize her. To taste the sweetness of her mouth, to claim her with a hunger that would leave her breathless, undone. And to tell her what a foolish decision she would be making by storming there. But he merely nodded, Ishani's jaw clenching.
