Chapter 32: Ashes Beneath the Sea

Indraprastha gleamed beneath the afternoon sun, a city reborn from ashes. Yet the message that arrived at its gates carried the weight of a storm.

A rider, his armor scorched and lips cracked from riding, dismounted with trembling urgency. He knelt before Agasthya and Krishna as the royal court watched in still silence.

"Dwaraka is under threat," he said, his voice hoarse. "Jarasandha marches—and he is not alone. The asuras ride with him."

Agasthya's face darkened. Krishna's smile faded into something unreadable.

"How many?" Agasthya asked.

"Too many," the rider whispered. "And they wait for your return."

---

The road to Dwaraka blurred beneath the hooves of divine horses.

Krishna and Agasthya rode hard, neither speaking for miles.

But as dusk swallowed the forest path, Krishna finally broke the silence.

"Karna."

Agasthya looked straight ahead. "You knew."

"I knew before he did."

"And you said nothing."

"He was not ready to hear it," Krishna said. "And perhaps—neither were you."

Agasthya's grip on the reins tightened.

"He's our brother. Your cousin. My blood. And we let him believe he was alone."

"We cannot change the past," Krishna said softly. "But we can arm him with truth before the world tears it from him."

Agasthya nodded, jaw clenched.

"Then we tell him. After this."

---

By the time they reached Dwaraka, the sea winds carried ash.

The sapphire walls of the city shimmered under war banners. Watchfires blazed across the ramparts.

As the gates opened, the people bowed. Children stopped playing. Soldiers stood straighter.

Because their protectors had returned.

Balarama met them at the citadel steps.

"You're just in time," he said. "Jarasandha has united more than kingdoms. He's called ancient things."

They entered the war chamber, where scrolls and missives littered the map-strewn table.

Agasthya unrolled the latest report:

> "Rakshasa forces from the eastern jungles have pledged allegiance. Dwaraka's border villages have fallen."

Another scroll bore blood-smudged ink:

> "A cursed host—undead warriors raised from black soil—march through the western ruins."

Krishna stood over the maps.

"He seeks annihilation, not victory. He doesn't want land. He wants memory erased."

Agasthya spoke with ice in his voice.

"Then let him try."

Krishna looked at him, a spark in his eyes.

"We tell Karna tonight. And by dawn, we remind the world why Dwaraka was carved from ocean and storm."

The city braced for war.

And Agasthya—

Prepared to light the sky.

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