Chapter 447 - 415: Queen’s Tears... Guru’s Questions...

(A/N):

Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.

-------------------------------------------------

The queen stared at the words written on the board, her eyes moving repeatedly across them as though she wished they would somehow change.

It will not heal and her lips trembled.

"Then... it really is a curse?"

Vrishasena slowly nodded.

For a moment, she remained motionless.

Then her eyes began to fill with tears, and before the king could react, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, carefully avoiding his injured face.

"How could this happen to us?" she whispered.

Vrishasena raised his hand and gestured towards the physicians and attendants who were still present in the chamber.

Understanding his signal, they bowed and quietly withdrew, closing the doors behind them.

He wanted to be alone with his wife.

The queen held him tightly, unable to contain the tears that had begun rolling down her cheeks.

"What kind of fate is this, Vrishasena? What have we done to deserve all this? You went to war to protect our kingdom, to preserve the traditions you believed were right, and you returned like this. Our soldiers are dead, our commanders have been defeated, and now..."

Her voice broke.

She loosened her embrace slightly and looked at his face.

The bandages covered much of the injury, but she knew what lay beneath them.

She had seen the wound herself, and the physicians had already told her that despite their best efforts, it was not healing.

"Your voice..." she whispered.

"You cannot even speak to me anymore."

Vrishasena looked at her quietly.

"I keep thinking about the day you returned from the battlefield,"

she continued, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

"I thought that once the physicians treated you, everything would eventually become normal again. I thought you would recover, that you would return to the throne, that our son would once again hear you call his name."

She took a shaky breath.

"But what are we supposed to do now? How long will this continue? Will you have to live with this wound for the rest of your life? Will you never speak again?"

The queen lowered her head against his shoulder.

"Everyone looks at us as though we have already lost everything. The nobles are whispering, the ministers are worried, and the people are frightened. I can see it in our son’s eyes too. He keeps asking when you will recover. What am I supposed to tell him?"

Vrishasena slowly raised his hand and placed it on her back.

He could not offer the words she wanted to hear.

He could not promise that the wound would heal, nor could he reassure her that everything would return to the way it had been.

All he could do was listen.

The queen pulled away enough to look at him.

"I know you are angry. I know you must hate Devara for what he did. But I cannot bear the thought of losing you to this. Whatever happened in that war, whatever mistakes were made, I only want my husband to recover."

She held his hand between hers.

"Please, do not give up. We will find someone who can help you. There must be someone somewhere who can remove this curse."

"We will send messengers to every great sage, every healer, every kingdom that possesses knowledge of divine afflictions. I don’t care how far we have to travel or how much wealth we must spend."

Vrishasena looked at her tearful face.

Slowly, he lifted his other hand and gently wiped a tear from her cheek.

The queen tried to smile, but it quickly dissolved.

"I am sorry," she whispered.

"I should not be crying in front of you. You are the one who is suffering, yet I..."

Vrishasena shook his head.

He reached for the writing board again, taking the stylus and carefully writing a few words.

You have nothing to apologise for.

She read the message and broke down once more, embracing him.

For several minutes, neither of them moved.

The queen continued holding her husband, while Vrishasena sat silently, listening to the quiet sobs against his shoulder.

Outside the chamber, the palace continued with its usual activities.

Servants moved through the corridors, ministers discussed the kingdom’s affairs, and guards maintained their posts.

But inside the royal chamber, the king who had once refused to bow before anyone sat quietly in his wife’s embrace, unable to offer her even a single spoken word of comfort.

And for perhaps the first time since he had ascended the throne, Vrishasena found himself wishing that he could simply speak.

Not as a king issuing an order, nor as a warrior challenging an enemy, but as a husband reassuring the woman who had stood beside him through everything.

The news of Vrishasena’s defeat and the destruction of his Narayana Astra soon reached his former guru.

The old teacher had been residing in a hermitage not too far from Vrishabhapura, where he continued to instruct a small group of disciples.

He had initially received reports of the battle with considerable confidence, believing that Vrishasena’s possession of the Narayana Astra would be sufficient to overwhelm Devara’s forces.

However, the latest messenger brought news that left him utterly speechless.

"Repeat that,"

the guru demanded, staring at the messenger.

"Acharya, King Vrishasena’s Narayana Astra was countered by another Narayana Astra. King Devara of Trivenivrata possesses the same divine weapon. His manifestation was considerably more powerful, and it overwhelmed our king’s weapon."

The guru’s eyes widened.

"Impossible!"

"That is what the commanders who returned from the battlefield have reported, Acharya."

"How can that be possible?" the old man muttered.

He dismissed the messenger and remained seated for several moments, attempting to make sense of what he had heard.

He knew the Narayana Astra was not an ordinary divine weapon.

Its knowledge was entrusted to only a select few, and the conditions surrounding its transmission were exceptionally strict.

Even when a recipient received the weapon from a qualified teacher, the knowledge of invoking it came with a tremendous limitation.

He himself had passed that knowledge to Vrishasena, knowing that once his former student invoked it, the mantra would disappear from his memory.

But Devara? How could that king possess such a weapon?

The guru rose abruptly from his seat.

"Prepare my belongings. I am going to the temple."

His disciples exchanged confused glances, but none dared question him.

The nearby temple dedicated to Lord Vishnu stood peacefully beside a flowing stream.

Its stone pillars were decorated with carvings depicting the various incarnations of the Supreme Lord, while the fragrance of incense lingered throughout the sanctum.

The guru entered without paying much attention to the priests who greeted him.

His footsteps grew faster as he approached the inner sanctum.

There, before him, stood the magnificent idol of Lord Vishnu.

The Lord was depicted standing majestically, holding the Shankha, Chakra, Gada, and Padma in His four hands.

His serene expression and gentle gaze seemed almost untouched by the troubles of the mortal world.

The guru stared at the idol.

But instead of finding peace in the divine presence, his anger only grew.

"Why, Lord Vishnu?" he demanded.

The priests standing nearby looked at one another in surprise.

"Why would You allow something like this?"

He stepped closer, raising his voice.

"How could someone like Devara possess the Narayana Astra? How could You grant such a divine weapon to a king who openly disregards the traditions preserved by our ancestors?"

His hands trembled.

"That man allows people to abandon the duties assigned to them by birth. He opens his gurukuls to everyone, regardless of their lineage, and permits them to study knowledge that has been protected for generations! He calls it reform, but I see only the destruction of the established order!"

The guru pointed towards the idol.

"And You reward him?"

His voice echoed through the sanctum.

"You are the preserver of Dharma! You are the one who protects the cosmic order! Then how can You grant the Narayana Astra to someone who commits adharma? How can a man who mocks our traditions be considered worthy of wielding Your own divine weapon?"

The priests had grown increasingly uncomfortable. One of them cautiously approached.

"Acharya, this is the sanctum of the Lord. Please calm yourself."

But the guru ignored him.

He continued staring at the idol, his expression filled with indignation.

"I have spent my entire life preserving the knowledge entrusted to me. I have taught kings, guided princes, and ensured that the traditions of our ancestors would continue through future generations. I passed the Narayana Astra to Vrishasena because I believed he would uphold the principles that govern our society."

His voice cracked with frustration.

"Yet Devara, who disregards everything we stand for, possesses the very same weapon!"

He clenched his fists.

"Is this Your idea of justice, Narayana?"

For several moments, there was only silence.

The lamps flickered gently before the idol.

The flowers placed at the Lord’s feet remained undisturbed, and the faint sound of the temple bells drifted in from outside.

The guru waited.

Somewhere within himself, he expected an answer.

Perhaps a divine sign, perhaps a voice, perhaps something that would reassure him that his understanding of Dharma had not been mistaken.

But the idol remained silent.

*******************************

(Author note:)

I hope you guys give me your opinion and idea’s.

-->

Don’t forget to review guys...