Chapter 136: The Blindfold Vow

Bhishma's gaze lingered on the windows, silver hair glinting as the horn's wail tore through the silence.

The sound swelled, a celestial war cry, its echo shaking the throne room's ancient marble bones.

Drums thumped beyond the walls, a pulse of destiny, heralding Gandhari's caravan thundering toward Hastinapura.

Nobles shifted, their silks whispering, eyes widening as the rhythm surged through the stone.

Dhritarashtra's staff stilled, his blind eyes narrowing, the horn ripping him from his bitter reverie.

Servants flung the doors wide, a blast of wind roaring in, dust and fate swirling into the open courtyard.

Hastinapura's courtyard burned beneath the midday sun, a crucible forged in the fires of divine will.

Dust spiraled high, a golden shroud, marigolds trembling on archways like offerings to the heavens.

The crowd stood hushed, warriors and commoners alike, their breaths snared by the drums' solemn cadence.

A caravan burst into view, banners of crimson and white snapping with Gandhara's fierce stag emblem.

Horses thundered forth, manes braided with silver, hooves pounding the earth like war drums.

A palanquin rolled behind, its silk curtains shimmering, a veiled throne of northern might unveiled.

The drums softened, a reverent hum, as the curtains parted, revealing a figure cloaked in shadow.

Gandhari emerged, a queen of storms and stars, her indigo sari blazing with silver constellations.

Her dark hair flowed free, a torrent of midnight, green eyes piercing through a veil of jeweled flame.

She stood tall, a titan of ice and fire, her presence a tempest brewing beneath the sun's gaze.

Bhishma strode to the courtyard's edge, his shadow a blade, a guardian of Kuru's unfolding fate.

Dhritarashtra rose, staff clutched tight, guided by a servant as nobles trailed in his dark wake.

His tunic flared, a shadow against the light, his steps weighted with grudging reverence.

The crowd parted, a sea split by her aura, as Gandhari advanced, veil glinting like a war helm.

She halted before Dhritarashtra, her gaze a beacon, though his blind eyes met only eternal night.

Her hands lifted a cloth, humble yet heavy, its edges kissed by fingers adorned with silver rings.

The sky churned, clouds surging sudden and dark, a celestial roar awakening overhead.

Thunder growled, a deep rumble, as Gandhari raised the cloth with a resolve forged in the stars.

Her voice broke the stillness, soft yet vast, a vow to shatter the mortal realm's fragile bounds.

"I share your dark, my lord," she intoned, each word a comet streaking through the heavens.

"We'll see as one, bound by this sacrifice, a union to defy the gods and fates alike!"

The cloth rose higher, a banner of eternity, as lightning cracked, splitting the sky in jagged wrath.

Dhritarashtra froze, staff thudding once, his breath stolen by the power of her declaration.

"You'd blind yourself for me?" he rasped, voice raw, awe clawing through his storm of bitterness.

His hand stretched out, brushing her arm, a tremor of wonder piercing his shadowed soul.

Gandhari's fingers moved, swift and unyielding, the cloth wrapping her eyes as the heavens raged.

Thunder boomed, a war drum of the gods, the sky quaking as her green gaze vanished into shadow.

A gale screamed through the courtyard, dust spiraling, garlands torn free in the storm's fierce grip.

The crowd staggered, gasps rising, as lightning flared, bathing her in a halo of divine fury.

Her sacrifice blazed forth, a star plummeting to earth, its light searing the air with celestial might.

The cloth tightened, a seal of cosmic will, her vow a thunderclap that shook the mortal plane.

Clouds split wide, rain lashing down, each drop a tear from the heavens witnessing her act.

Warriors fell to their knees, awestruck, their armor clanking as the storm crowned her sacrifice.

Nobles clutched their silks, eyes wide, the courtyard trembling beneath the weight of her choice.

The earth shuddered, a faint quake, as if the underworld itself bowed to her unyielding spirit.

Gandhari stood, blindfold stark, a northern goddess forged anew in the crucible of her vow.

Her presence swelled, a pillar of power, the air crackling with the echoes of her surrender.

Bhishma stepped closer, voice low, a rumble from the depths of a primordial titan's heart.

"Her loyalty is iron, Dhritarashtra," he said, gray eyes reflecting the storm's apocalyptic glow.

"She offers her sight to forge a bond, a queen to rival the might of the celestial thrones."

Dhritarashtra's hand lingered on her arm, warmth flooding through, drowning his bitterness in awe.

His chest eased, envy crumbling, a fleeting peace born of her heaven-shaking surrender.

Gandhari stood beside him, blindfold a banner, a star tethered to his shadowed reign.

The storm roared on, thunder crashing, as the crowd erupted, a tide of worship breaking loose.

Warriors bellowed, fists thrust skyward, their roars a hymn to her sacrifice's boundless might.

Nobles joined, silks flashing, the courtyard alive with a chorus that rivaled the tempest above.

A lord in sapphire silk edged near, his voice a sly whisper beneath the storm's relentless din.

"Pandu's latest feat strengthens us still," he murmured, a spark reigniting embers of old rage.

"Another tribe falls, his legend echoes even here."

Dhritarashtra's scowl flared, awe snuffed out, envy surging back like a dark, vengeful tide.

His staff slammed the stone, a crack splitting the air, rage boiling beneath the crowd's fervor.

Gandhari's hand brushed his, steady and warm, a silent anchor in his rising storm of wrath.

Bhishma's gaze sharpened, catching the noble's words, his stance firm as the tempest began to fade.

The crowd pressed forward, a sea of zeal, surging toward the palace with cries that shook the sky.

Dhritarashtra turned, steps rigid, guided inward as Pandu's whispered name gnawed at his soul