Arjun's POV:
The moment we stepped into the grand estate at Varnavat, I knew something was wrong. It was too perfect...
Okay.Everything was wrong.
The servants too polite. The walls too polished. The hospitality too generous. Every luxury we could think of was waiting for us, like a feast offered to a condemned man before execution.
I didn't trust a single bite of the food.
"Don't touch anything," I said quietly to my brothers as we sat at the long, gold-laced dining table that evening. Mata sat between me and Yudhishthir, a tired smile on her face. The servants had just laid out the meal-sumptuous, aromatic, and undoubtedly poisoned.
Bheem raised a brow. "What now? I'm starving."
"Fast for the night," I said firmly. "Better than fasting in the afterlife."
Yudhishthir shot me a glance but didn't argue. He trusted me now. They all did. I had not explained the full extent of my suspicion, but the look in my eyes was enough.
That night, I inspected every corner of the palace. Every beam. Every brick. I found the hollow wooden structures. I noted the smell of lacquer, of oil, of burning potential. The plan was clear.
They meant to burn us alive.
So we played along.
For days, we pretended to relax. Ate only what we brought or foraged/hunted ourselves. I made friends with the locals, discreetly gathered information, and connected with the same miner who would eventually help us dig a tunnel out.
The night of the fire, I was the last to leave.
The flames rose like the fury of Rudra himself, engulfing the cursed mansion in a blaze that could be seen for miles. But we were long gone. Through the tunnel. Into the forest. Into the myth.
---
Scene Two: Subhadra and Krishna:
The news of our "deaths" spread like wildfire across Aryavarta.
In Dwaraka, the palace was heavy with grief. But Subhadra didn't shed a tear. Not yet. Not until she was sure.
"Tell me they're alive," she demanded, standing before Krishna with fire in her eyes. "Tell me he's alive."
Krishna smiled softly. "The sun may hide behind clouds, Subhadra, but it does not cease to exist."
"Krishna!" she snapped. "Stop speaking in riddles!"
He turned to her, voice calm, yet resonant. "A warrior who knows his end, rewrites his path. Fire consumes wood, but spares the one who walks through with light in his hands."
She stared at him, realization slowly dawning. Her breath hitched. "Arjun..."
Krishna simply smiled and walked away.
---
Karna's POV:
When the news arrived, I felt the world lurch beneath my feet.
Dead?
The Pandavas-Yudhishthir, Bheem, Arjun... all of them? Gone in a fire?
I couldn't breathe.
My chest was hollow. My skin burned.
Was this what loyalty looked like? Was this the price?
Duryodhana and Shakuni celebrated behind closed doors, their voices muffled by walls thick with conspiracy. I stood outside those doors and felt the blood drain from my soul.
I knew. I knew Arjun had looked at me one last time in the palace, not with hate, but with warning.
And I had turned away.
I had let this happen.
No...
I went to the riverbank alone that night, the same place I once practiced archery in secret. I looked at the stars, at the moon that bore silent witness to fate, and I whispered:
"If there is still a way to change things... show me."
The wind blew, gentle but cold.
I didn't know it yet, but destiny had not given up on me.
Not yet.