What if the Mahabharat was reshaped by wishes from another age?
Long ago, when Lord Ram prepared to leave for his abode, he demanded last wishes from his brothers.
Lakshman knew his motive was to protect his brother from all that he had to go thro...
The forest of Tilprasth stretched endlessly before them, its towering trees casting long shadows in the golden light of dusk. Karn and Ghandvega sat by a small campfire, their forms weary yet resolute. The crackling flames illuminated Karn’s armor, now bearing the scars of countless battles, and Ghandvega’s sharp features, his eyes ever watchful.
Their journey had been relentless. From one forest to another, they had pursued Makrasur’s allies with unyielding determination. Ghandvega, with his unmatched tracking skills, led the way, identifying hideouts and asur gatherings before they could consolidate their power. Karn, with the strength of a lion and the precision of a master warrior, dispatched them one by one, ensuring that Makrasur’s plans unraveled with each passing day.
Time had flown as they moved from battle to battle, their mission consuming every moment. Now, as the period of Karn’s exile neared its end, a sense of urgency lingered in the air.
Ghandvega :- We are close. The last of Makrasur’s targets lies nearby, hidden deep in these woods. If we strike soon, his plan will be undone.
He said, his voice steady but laced with anticipation. Karn nodded, his gaze fixed on the fire.
Karn :- Then we will finish this. Before the dawn of my new chapter of life.
He said, his voice calm but resolute.
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Makrasur sat slouched on a large stone chair, his chin resting on his palm, his crimson eyes glinting with frustration. The dimly lit chamber, carved deep within a mountain, was adorned with glowing runes and the faint scent of burning incense. A heavy silence hung in the air as he stared at the flickering shadows on the wall, lost in thought.
The sound of footsteps echoed in the corridor, and moments later, Gajasur entered the chamber. Taller and broader than his brother, Gajasur’s presence filled the room with a quiet menace. His sharp tusks gleamed as he approached, noting the furrowed brow on Makrasur’s face.
Gajasur :- Brother, what troubles you?
He began, his voice a deep rumble. Makrasur’s thoughts shattered at the question. He straightened, his expression dark.
Makrasur :- The asurs. I sent soldiers to gather them for the ritual, but they are either missing or turning up dead. It’s as if someone is hunting them down.
He said bitterly. Gajasur’s eyes narrowed.
Gajasur :- Do you suspect the Gods?
Makrasur :- I do, but they cannot intervene yet. Not until the asurs are gathered and the portal is opened.
He said, his voice sharp. Gajasur nodded, his tusks glinting in the dim light.
Gajasur :- Then it cannot be them.
Makrasur let out a long hum, tapping his clawed fingers on the armrest of his chair.
Makrasur :- And the Brahmins? Have they been gathered?
