Mahabharat: Cruel Fate

Chapter 12

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BOLD= DIALOGUES

ITALICS= his conscience

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Karn's POV:

From the shadows of the forest, I watched her, hidden in the dense brush. She lay still on the ground, her body rigid and trembling, as if she were trapped in some unseen battle. At first, I couldn't understand what was happening. The forest was quiet, nothing stirred but the wind in the trees, and yet a deep tension consumed her entire form.

I narrowed his eyes, trying to discern what was wrong. Her wrists were clenched as if bound by invisible shackles, her face contorted in fear and pain. Was she in danger? Well, someone is attacking her, idiot. In the dead of night? My mind raced, but there were no enemies nearby—nothing physical, anyway. She was all by herself. However, the way her body was spinning and thrashing about as if in a web of some sort suggested that she was being tormented by something.

What on Earth is this ? My heart raced, and along with it came a sense of confusion. I had watched her for days, studying her gestures, scrutinizing every little activity of hers. She had always looked so poised, so self-possessed. Stop, stop you are going too far. But that was before... this time, she appeared so unlike her former self. I could hear faint murmurs from her lips, fragmented whispers. I strained to listen, but they made no sense, a jumble of words caught in the throes of some internal agony.

Furthermore, I crouched lower, barely daring to breathe as her body spasmed once more. Sweat poured down her face, glistening in the dim moonlight. Whatever was happening wasn't physical. There were no bars against which she was pressed, no hands holding her from behind. And yet, it felt like she was locked in a dimension, which he was blind to—a dimension where out of the blue something was after her, inflicting pain.

A soft gasp escaped her lips, her eyes tightly closed, unseeing, her body convulsing in pain. I took a step forward, instinct driving me to act, to help her, NO Don't. So, I didn't. I couldn't make sense of this. The fear in her expression, the way she recoiled from an invisible enemy—it unsettled me.

She kicked violently, her body jerking as if she were fighting something, her breathing shallow and rapid. My confusion deepened, but so did my fascination. There was more to this woman than I had first thought. The daggers, her calm strength—those had been impressive enough. But this? This was something else entirely. A vulnerability she kept hidden beneath the surface, wrapped in layers of mystery.

Who is she? I wondered. The thought gnawed at me. She wasn't just a warrior, not merely a fighter with a talent for blades. No, there was something deeper, something darker. She had been through things, unspeakable things, and whatever nightmare gripped her now was a reflection of that.

She let out a desperate cry, her body stiffening as if the unseen tormentors had closed in on her. "I WILL NOT KNEEL BEFORE THEM," she shouted, the words cutting through the air, sharp, and raw. My breath stuck in my throat. What was she saying? What language is this?(AN: HERE SHE IS ACTUALLY SPEAKING IN ENGLISH AS SHE IS FROM OUR TIME ZONE, SO HE IS NOT UNDERSTANDING WHAT LANGUAGE SHE IS SPEAKING IN) Probably her mother tongue. What had she endured? I could only imagine—no, I couldn't even begin to imagine. But whatever this was, it was beyond anything I had ever encountered.

Suddenly, she bolted upright, drenched in sweat, gasping for air as if she'd been dragged from the depths of some horrible abyss. Her chest heaved, her eyes wide with terror, as if the nightmare had chased her into the waking world. She mumbled incoherently, like someone who had been tortured for years, her words slipping out in a language unfamiliar to me but one she seemed to know all too well—her mother tongue. See, I told you it was her mother tongue. What was she saying?