Hope Embodied | ✔

03 | A Letter of War

Wine sloshed on the cold stone floor, red as blood to celebrate the victory of Narakasura over yet another minor kingdom. Uproarious laughter rang in her ears, as she adjusted herself behind a massive asura statue.

"More wine, bring out more barrels!"

The cry of an intoxicated courtier was met with loud approval, until the son of Bhumi himself appeared, first as a massive shadow against the harsh light of the lamps and then the daemonic appearance he had chosen for himself when he turned from his mother's path.

The silence that filled the court then was dead silent, goblets of crystal and precious gems halted in half their journey to the mouths of the ones who held it, several courtiers and warriors at the barrels frozen in their act of filling their goblets again. Narakasura stepped into the centre of the court, his unnerving green eyes glinting as they travelled around the room, almost daring anyone of his court to move or make a single noise.

One moment, two moments.

She held her breath, afraid to be discovered, knowing the consequences would be far beyond devastating.

And then, he let out a loud bellow of laughter, sounding like the rumbling of the earth herself when she was angered.

"Continue, continue, my loyal and worthy companions!"

The room itself seemed to exhale with relief, and the plethora of men, asuras, devas and even some gandharvas continued to drink the wine, intoxicating themselves as the fools they were.

She snorted inwardly again. What sort of foolish people get drunk in the presence of a monster whose very demeanour can change within seconds, leaving you either dead or maimed?

The ones who were foolish enough to swear their lives in service of a monster who knows nothing other than the sweet alluring lull of power and lust, I suppose, she concluded.

"A toast! A toast to the lord of the universe!" proposed one gandharva, perched awkwardly like a bird on the armrest of his chair, his goblet held high in the air, swaying from side to side.

"A toast!" echoed the room.

Instantly, most of the gandharvas and some other men formed a circle in the room, beginning a chant that sounded discord into her very soul, thrumming with a base power that she wished she could quell.

Hail to him, the lord of the three worlds!

More powerful than Indra, hail he who conquered heavens!

Of eyes greener than the purest of emeralds,

Hail to thee, lord of kings!

He who is mightier than puny Vishnu,

Hail him! All hail—

But the chant was cut short by the abrupt arrival of a scampering messenger who rushed into the room, knocking down a large pot by the entrance. She was inwardly grateful for the stilling of the song, but tensed up in fear for the messenger stood extremely close by to where she hid.

"What is this? Who dares interrupt my court?"

The poor messenger was trembling as he spoke, stumbling over his words out of fear.

"P-Pardon my-my lord, but there is an urgent message that you must needs hear. A letter of war has-has come from Dvaraka, the island city of gates."

"Oh, is it?" Narakasura's eyes gleamed with interest.