Saga Of The Timeless (A Mahabharata Story)

88. The End-1

Third Party POV 

The room seemed to groan under the weight of its proclamation, the captives' muffled sobs blending with the oppressive silence that followed. Darkness swirled like smoke, thick and suffocating, as the entity's gaze turned expectantly to Krishna, daring him to respond.

"Ah, to feel the limits of flesh," it mused, flexing its fingers as though savoring the sensation. "Fragile, yet full of delicious possibilities."

It stepped forward, gliding with unnatural grace, its form barely touching the ground. Its gaze swept across the room, lingering momentarily on each face—fearful, tear-streaked, and pale. Finally, it landed on the unconscious figure of Tvarita, lying amidst the wreckage of the battle.

It froze, its abyssal eyes narrowing as though studying a rare and precious artifact. "So beautiful," it whispered, the words reverberating like a sinister lullaby. "Perfect. A jewel amidst this filth."

With an almost tender motion, it floated closer to her, its shadow stretching unnaturally long, enveloping her prone body. "I planned on making you my queen too bad all there is a lifeless body with no use to me," it declared, its voice suddenly louder, echoing with the weight of a decree etched into the very fabric of reality.

A guttural laugh erupted from its throat, filling the room with a sound so malevolent it made the walls shudder. Turning away from Tvarita, its abyssal eyes roamed over the bound captives. Their sobs turned to silence, their voices stolen by an unseen force.

Then its gaze settled on Vasudev Krishna. The mirth faded from its expression, replaced by cold, calculating malice. Unlike the others, Krishna did not flinch. His face remained a mask of unyielding resolve, his eyes twin flames cutting through the oppressive darkness.

"Ah, Vasudev," the entity hissed, its voice dripping with venom. "The avatar of Vishnu. The preserver. The eternal meddler."

It began circling him like a predator stalking prey. "Do you feel it, Vasudev?" it whispered, leaning in mockingly close. "The end of all you stand for. This world will crumble, your precious dharma will shatter, and no savior will mend it."

"You overestimate your power," Krishna replied, his voice calm, steady. "You are but a shadow—nothing more."

The entity stopped, its laughter returning, this time sharper, mocking. "A shadow? Oh, but shadows are the essence of what you fear most. Darkness reveals truths you gods so desperately bury in your light." It turned to the captives. "Isn't that right, mortals? You fear what you cannot control."

The captives, too terrified to respond, simply cowered.

"You are a mistake that should never have existed," Krishna said, his voice cutting through the silence.

The entity hissed, its form rippling with rage. "Mistake? I am inevitable! You gods, with your fragile egos and blind arrogance, thought to erase me, to banish me. But I am eternal."

Balarama, his fists clenched and trembling with fury, interrupted. "Enough! You were nothing but a distortion—chaos incarnate, feeding on fear and hatred. You think this makes you powerful?"

The entity's gaze shifted to Balarama, its lips curling into a sneer. "Ah, Shesha Naag, ever the angry serpent. You hiss and strike, but you forget—you are still a snake, bound to the ground, while I soar above."

Balarama took a step forward, his knuckles white, but Krishna raised a hand, silently urging him to stand down.

The entity turned back to Tvarita with eerie grace. Kneeling beside her, it brushed its cold, inhuman fingers against her cheek, as though testing its ability to touch her. A cruel smile spread across its face as its hand drifted down her neck, over her chest, and finally paused at her stomach.