Dream - A Karna SI

49. AFTERWORDS

Kurukshetra, Day 7 (Bheem's POV)

It was so satisfying to finally kick the head of that devilish fiend, Duryodhan. I shouted my triumph to the heavens. Where were the boasts of these immoral dogs? Where was their famed battle prowess? All their taunts and bravado now lay crushed beneath my feet.

The Kaurav army was fleeing, scattering like rats. None dared to meet my gaze. Yes, flee, you cowards! There is only one king of this battlefield—King Vikrodar!

The sound of conches and drums swelled around me as I stood in my bloody triumph. Warriors on our side were gathering around, their voices raised in victory. Even Bhrata Yudhishthir, usually so restrained, seemed jubilant. 

I turned my eyes towards Karn—my brother in spirit, though not in blood. He stood locked in a duel with Ashwatthama. But something felt wrong. The two warriors were unnaturally still, though the air between them hummed with celestial energy.

A chill ran down my spine.

Gripping my gada, I shoved through the crowd, limping toward where Karn stood. The cheers of victory around me faded as the warriors realized something was amiss. Slowly, a wide circle formed around Karn and Ashwatthama. Everyone was watching, wary. I ignored the looks of fear and awe, my eyes fixed on Karn.

Before I could reach him, a blinding light erupted from where they stood. Celestial energies swirled, and I instinctively shielded my eyes. The blast was so powerful it shook the ground beneath my feet. A sharp pain stabbed through my head, like something vital was being wrenched from my very soul. I staggered, disoriented, feeling a strange emptiness, as if a part of my mind had been severed.

When I opened my eyes again, the battlefield had changed. Ashwatthama lay in the dirt, his body torn and bleeding, chunks of flesh missing, his once-magnificent mani gone. He looked half-dead. And then in front of my eyes, Aswatthama simply started withering away like dust cloud.

And Karn—Karn was nowhere to be seen. There was only a deep scorch mark where he had stood.

"No... no, not like this," I muttered, my heart racing. Panic gripped me as I limped toward the spot where Karn had stood, ignoring the pain in my body. I ran like a man possessed, desperate.

I fell to my knees at the scorched earth, searching for any sign of him. Nothing. Only ashes. I stared at the faint impressions in the dirt, the marks where was once standing. His footprints—they were so... normal. Not the giant's feet he had been painted as in this war, but the feet of a man, of a brother.

Someone was shouting, but I barely noticed. My gaze was fixed on those footprints, and a sob tore from my throat. I realized the voice crying out was my own.

"Hold yourself, Bhrata Bheem!" Krishn's voice came from behind me, steady and full of compassion. His hands gripped my shoulders, anchoring me in the storm of my grief.

I looked up at him, my voice choking in my throat. "Krishn... Karn..."

Krishn's eyes were soft but unwavering. "I know, Bheem. I know."

"Madhav... Is Karn...?" I couldn't finish the sentence. The words caught in my throat like poison.

"Karn has gone on the path of warriors. He has attained veergati. Don't mourn for him, Bheem."

His words struck me like a hammer, shattering the remnants of my composure. I couldn't hold it in any longer—I broke down, collapsing in my grief. The war, the victory... none of it mattered now. I had lost him. It felt like a limb had been torn from my body, a piece of my soul ripped away.