Dharmyudh : The Rewritten Destiny

69. Draupadi's Warning

The late morning sun hung high over the quiet village, its golden rays piercing through a faint layer of mist that clung stubbornly to the ground. The main square was alive with the hum of daily activity: artisans laid out their wares, displaying brightly colored pottery and finely crafted wooden trinkets, their voices blending with the rhythmic chanting of Brahmin teachers reciting ancient mantras under a peepal tree. Guards moved in practiced patrols, their footsteps deliberate but unthreatening, while villagers bustled past, carrying baskets of grain or setting out for their modest offices.

In a corner near the market stalls, a young boy crouched on the ground, engrossed in a game. He clutched a small, crudely carved wooden toy-a figurine of Vasudev Krishna, complete with a miniature flute and a crown of peacock feathers. His laughter rang out as he made the toy dance across the dusty ground, oblivious to the murmurs that had begun to ripple through the crowd.

The murmurs grew louder, nervous glances exchanged between villagers. A shadow fell over the square, not from a passing cloud, but from a procession emerging from the far end of the street. At its center was a man whose very presence seemed to darken the air. Pondrak.

Draped in royal robes of deep blue and gold, his resemblance to Vasudev Krishna was striking, almost uncanny. His skin gleamed, his features sharp and symmetrical, yet where Krishna's presence inspired serenity, Pondrak's radiated menace. A smirk played on his lips, his kohl-lined eyes scanning the square like a predator surveying its prey. Behind him marched his soldiers, their armor polished to a deadly sheen, swords at their sides and faces devoid of emotion.

The villagers stopped in their tracks, some shrinking back into the safety of their homes. The once-busy square fell silent, save for the crackle of a distant hearth and the creak of a cartwheel. Even the Brahmin teachers faltered in their chants, their voices trailing off into uncertain whispers.

The boy, still clutching his toy, turned to face the source of the tension. His eyes widened as he saw Pondrak approaching, his heart racing with the instinctual fear that all creatures feel in the presence of a predator. Yet, he did not run.

Pondrak's gaze fell on the boy, and his smirk deepened. He walked toward him, his strides measured and deliberate, the crowd parting in uneasy silence to make way. Standing before the boy, Pondrak crouched down, his expression softening into a mockery of kindness.

Pondrak :- And what is this you hold in your hand, little one?

He asked, his voice smooth yet laced with danger.
The boy hesitated, his small hands clutching the toy tighter. But the innocence of youth outweighed his fear.

"It's Vasudev Krishna,"

He said, his voice clear and proud.

"I want to be like him one day. He can do miracles to help people."

Pondrak's smile froze, the corner of his mouth twitching with barely concealed irritation. He reached out, brushing a finger against the wooden toy.

Pondrak :- Ah, Krishna....

He said, his tone turning cold.

Pondrak :- You want to be like him, do you? And why not like me? I, too, can perform miracles.

The boy tilted his head, curious.

"Really? What miracles can you do?"

Pondrak straightened, the false kindness vanishing from his face. He raised his hand, and the air around it began to shimmer with heat. A glowing orb of fire coalesced in his palm, crackling with raw energy. The boy's eyes widened in awe, but as Pondrak's smirk returned, there was nothing comforting about it.