"I can't believe I'm actually seeing this" the jeweler murmured, his voice laced with reverence as his fingers ghosted over the fractured gem.

Ashwatthama's brow furrowed, suspicion flickering in his copper eyes. "And what exactly is this?" he asked, his tone edged with impatience.

The jeweler exhaled slowly, as if he were beholding a relic of the gods. "Bhramamani" he whispered, as if the name itself was sacred. "One of the rarest jewels to ever exist. It forms only inside jalashukti----the elusive purple water shells, on a night when Jupiter and Saturn closely aligns on Purnima. The full moon's light must touch them at just the right intensity, uninterrupted from dusk until dawn. Even the slightest shift of a cloud, even a breath of mist dimming its glow for a moment... and the stone will never be born."

A heavy silence settled between them as the weight of the words sank in.

Ashwatthama's fist tightened, his thoughts coiling like a storm. So, the little fox wasn't just spinning riddles. She was telling the truth. Finding a gem like this wasn't just difficult, it was almost impossible.

His gaze darkened as a new thought slithered into his mind. But how did she come to possess such a rare gem? And if it was truly a gift from her father, then where and how had he acquired it? The questions coiled around his thoughts like a tightening noose, refusing to let go.

Only two possibilities arose, both equally unsettling. Either she is a sly little thief, charming her way into acquiring the unattainable... or she is an enchanting demoness, weaving webs of chaos with an innocence too perfect to be real.

"Where can we find it?" Duryodhan asked, leaning in, his voice laced with awe as his fingers ghosted over the fractured jewel. Even he, a prince who had seen countless treasures, seemed captivated by its rarity.

The jeweler let out a slow, measured sigh, his expression shadowed with regret. "I'm not sure, Yuvraj" he said solemnly "But long ago, a merchant who once traded me diamonds and gemstones spoke of the Bhramamani" the jeweler said, his voice carrying the weight of old secrets. "He claimed it could only be found on Mount Meru, hidden deep within the mighty Himalayas, where the heavens kiss the earth. A place few dare to venture, and almost none return from with their prize."

"But if you wish, I can show you other jewels, ones that resemble it closely." The jeweller offered politely.

Ashwatthama's eyes flicked towards the jeweler, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "No" he said firmly "I want this stone. Only this. And I will find it at any cost."

Silence followed, thick and weighted, before he stood up and strode out of the shop, his steps as resolute as his will.

Duryodhan smirked, shaking his head in amusement before following suit, while Dushasan groaned, sluggishly dragging himself up, still nursing the remnants of his hangover.

The trio strode towards their horses, the streets alive with the hum of merchants bartering and the distant clatter of hooves against stone. Yet, Ashwatthama heard none of it. The world around him blurred into insignificance, drowned beneath the singular focus that now gripped his mind----the Bhramamani.

Because now, nothing would stop him from fulfilling his promise to his little fox. Ashwatthama immediately shook his head. No, no, just a little fox. Ashwatthama, stop repeating this same mistake again and again.

Duryodhan's smirk deepened as he turned towards him, his voice laced with teasing "May I know, who is this mysterious someone for whom you're willing to move mountains just to keep a promise?" he drawled, savoring every word.

Ashwatthama barely spared him a glance, his expression unreadable. "I don't know her name" he muttered, almost begrudgingly, as if admitting it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Duryodhan came to an abrupt halt, eyes widening in sheer disbelief. Behind him, Dushasan, caught off guard, stumbled straight into his back with a grunt.

"Why did you stop, Jyeshth?!" Dushasan grumbled, nearly tripping over his own feet. "Shut up, Dushasan" Duryodhan hissed, waving him off like an annoying fly.

Duryodhan turned sharply towards Ashwatthama, his tone caught between amusement and outright incredulity. "You don't even know her name? And yet, here you are, practically losing your mind trying to fulfill a promise to her?"

Dushasan, now fully awake, snorted. "Must be some sorceress who hexed him into absolute madness" he murmured under his breath, shaking his head "Because there's no other explanation for Ashwatthama willingly running errands for a girl he doesn't even know by name" He mused, barely holding back a grin.

Ashwatthama exhaled sharply, ignoring their reactions, as their words hung in the air, thick with bewilderment. And for once, even he had no immediate retort.

But if he thought his silence would deter Duryodhan, he was sorely mistaken. His friend's confusion only deepened, the sheer absurdity of it all had Dushasan shaking his head in amusement. Never, in all their years of friendship, had Ashwatthama been so... unpredictable.

Especially over a girl.

"It's just that I broke it" Ashwatthama finally exhaled, his voice edged with frustration, as if that explanation alone should be enough to put an end to their ridiculous assumptions. "And she challenged me to get it fixed. That's it." His arms folded across his chest in rigid finality, his glare sharp enough to silence a battlefield.

Dare----his expression practically screamed. Dare to say another word about it, and you'll regret it.

Duryodhan, however, was not easily intimidated.

He studied Ashwatthama for a long moment, the weight of his scrutiny pressing like an unspoken challenge. And then, to Ashwatthama's mild surprise, he simply nodded. "If it's about a challenge, then you should find it as soon as possible." There was no teasing now, no smirk lingering at the edges of his mouth, just a quiet understanding.

Ashwatthama climbed his horse, giving a firm nod to Duryodhan before parting ways. Because tonight, he would return home----not to the palace of Ahichhatra, but to the quiet, unembellished house of Hastinapur's Rajyaguru, his father.

A place where his mother's gentle presence lingered in every corner, where the weight of duty did not press so heavily upon his shoulders.

The life of a king had consumed him, distancing him from the simple comforts of home. But for one night, he would allow himself to return where he truly belonged, to remind himself that before anything he was their son.

As he reached the house, Ashwatthama swung down from his horse with practiced ease, tying the reins to a sturdy tree in the courtyard. His sharp gaze softened as he took in the sight before him, the warm flicker of a lone lamp glowing beneath the sacred Tulsi, its gentle light casting familiar shadows across the surroundings. The air carried the scent of sandalwood and aged scriptures, a fragrance so deeply intertwined with him that it tugged at something deep within.

A small, unbidden smile crept onto his lips as he stepped inside, his footsteps light, almost reverent. And then, drifting through the stillness came the low, rhythmic murmur of his father's evening prayers. The sound wrapped around him like a long-lost melody, each syllable sinking into his bones, soothing his soul.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt somewhat at peace.

Dronacharya slowly opened his eyes, the rhythmic chants of evening prayers came to a slow halt. For a moment, Ashwatthama hesitated, unwilling to disturb the rare moment of peace that surrounded his father like an unspoken shield. But before he could decide, his father's voice, calm yet knowing, broke the silence.

"You've been away for quite longer." Dronacharya said, his gaze settling on his son. There was no rebuke in his tone, only quiet observation.

Ashwatthama exhaled, stepping forward and touching his feet. "Duties kept me occupied" he answered, his voice carrying the weight of responsibilities that both father and son understood too well.

Dronacharya studied him for a long moment before nodding, a faint hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Responsibilities never lessen, my son. But one must not forget to rest."

Ashwatthama huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Then I must be failing as a king, Pitashree. For rest is a luxury I have yet to afford."

Dronacharya let out a soft breath, something between amusement and understanding. "You will learn to bear the weight, as I did." The words, so simple yet profound, settled over Ashwatthama as he nodded, more to himself than to his father.

His gaze turned towards the inner side of the house. The familiar rustle of fabric and the soft clinking of bangles reached his ears before he even saw her.

His mother.

Kripi emerged from the doorway, her sharp yet gentle eyes instantly locking onto him. There was just a knowing glance in her eyes, one that spoke of quiet relief.

"So, you finally remembered the way back home" she said, her voice carrying a weight of unspoken emotions.

Ashwatthama gave a small, sheepish shrug "It hasn't changed" he replied, his tone softer than before.

Kripi huffed lightly, crossing her arms. "No, it hasn't. But you have."

The words struck something deep within him, but before he could respond, she simply reached up and cupped his face, her fingers tracing the faint tired lines near his eyes. "Have you been eating well?" she asked, her voice lowering to that familiar motherly tone that had once made him roll his eyes as a child.

Ashwatthama exhaled, leaning into her touch just slightly, as if allowing himself to be just her son for a moment "I manage."

Kripi clicked her tongue "That's not an answer. Now sit, I'll bring you something."

He opened his mouth to argue, but one look at her, and he knew there was no point. Some battles, even the greatest warriors couldn't win.

Kripi walked to the kitchen, gathering the empty utensils while humming softly, a familiar tune that tugged at the corners of Ashwatthama's mind like a long-forgotten lullaby.

Without a word, he followed her to the kitchen, his footsteps light as if drawn by an unseen force. She moved effortlessly, her hands accustomed to the rhythm of preparing and serving a meal, the flickering lamp casting a golden glow upon her face. The gentle clatter of utensils and the occasional crackle of the fire blended seamlessly with the melody she hummed, a song she had always sung when he was little.

Ashwatthama leaned against the threshold, watching her. The warmth of the kitchen, the scent of spices, the soft hum of her voice----it was all achingly familiar. Without thinking, he closed his eyes, allowing himself to be pulled into the past.

He could almost see it, the small, mud-floored kitchen of their home back then. His tiny five-year-old self perched beside his mother, clutching the edge of her pallu as if it were the only thing anchoring him to the world. He had always been so close to her, following her everywhere, watching her cook with wide, curious eyes.

"Why do you hum, Mata?" he had asked once, his small hands tugging at her pallu.

"So the food knows it is being made with love" she had replied with a smile, brushing a hand over his unruly locks.

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips now, the memory wrapping around him like a comforting embrace. So much had changed, and yet, in this moment, it felt as though nothing truly had. He was still that same boy, drawn to his mother's quiet presence, seeking warmth in the simplicity of her care.

Kripi turned slightly, glancing over her shoulder. "What are you doing standing there like a ghost?" she chimed, shaking her head with amusement.

Ashwatthama opened his eyes, the present settling back into place. He smiled faintly, stepping forward. "Just making sure the food is being made with love" he said, echoing her words from years ago.

Kripi chuckled, shaking her head as she ladled warm food into a plate. "It always is, my son. Even when you're too lost in your own world to notice."

He lowered himself onto the wooden stool, stretching his legs out lazily. "I notice, I always notice" he murmured, more to himself than to her.

As the night deepened, a rare tranquility settled over Ashwatthama. He lay with his head in his mother's lap, while Kripi's fingers moved through his hair with a tenderness that time had never stolen, her touch as soothing as ever.

The soft melody of an old lullaby escaped her lips, weaving through the quiet of the night. He closed his eyes, letting the familiar tune lull him into a deep sleep.

Kripi smiled down at him, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face. "You always fought sleep when you were little. And yet, this lullaby would always win in the end."

Ashwatthama let out a breathy chuckle, his lips barely curving into a smile. "Some battles are better lost Mata" he admitted, his voice drowsy, edged with a rare softness.

Soon, Ashwatthama's breath evened out as he fell into a deep slumber. A soft smile touched his mother's lips as she reached for a blanket, carefully draping it over him, ensuring he was warm and comfortable. With a quiet sigh, she stood, smoothing the folds of her uttariya as she walked to the doorway.

"Sleep well, my son" she whispered from her heart before quietly closing the door behind her.

Soon the night dissapered and the sun crept over the horizon, its golden rays slipping through the window, nudging Ashwatthama from his slumber. For a moment, he clung to the pillow, unwilling to leave the comforting warmth of his bed.

A grumpy frown tugged at his lips as he glanced around, not yet ready to face the demands of the day. But duty called, and with an air of reluctant resignation, he pushed the sheets aside, steeling himself for the inevitable journey ahead.

Dressed and ready, Ashwatthama stepped forward to take his leave, touching his father's feet he then turned to his mother. Kripi cupped his face, her touch warm and filled with unspoken affection. "Come back soon this time."

A small, rare smile tugged at his lips as he covered her hands with his own. "I will, Mata. This time, I promise." Kripi sighed, smoothing his hair "You always say that."

"And yet, you always believe me" he teased lightly, earning a fond shake of her head.

With one last glance at them, he mounted his horse, casting a final look at his home before riding away. But this time, something in his heart felt lighter, maybe because for once, he truly meant it.

♡♡

His horse thundered across the rugged, uneven terrain, each hoofbeat striking the earth with unwavering rhythm. The wind lashed against them, wild and unrelenting, but neither faltered. Then, with a sharp tug on the reins, Ashwatthama brought the horse to a sudden halt. The horse reared slightly, nostrils flaring, exhaling a heavy snort as a cloud of dust rose around them, settling into the silence of the pause.

Before him rose the mighty Mount Meru, its towering peaks kissing the heavens, bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun. After three days of relentless travel, through winding paths, thick forests, and treacherous cliffs----he had finally arrived at his destination.

He roamed the boundless terrain of Mount Meru, his journey ceaseless yet aimless, driven by desperation and an urgency that clawed at his soul. For eight days, he scoured every hidden concern, sifted through endless rock formations, and traced the whispers of ancient legends, yet the elusive Bhramamani remained beyond his grasp. Time was slipping through his fingers like fine grains of sand, the weight of his dwindling days pressing against his chest.

If he didn't find the gem soon, he would never make it back to his kingdom in time. The mere thought of losing the challenge sent a surge of urgency through his veins, forcing him to push forward even as the sun dipped beyond the horizon, casting the sky in hues of fire and shadows. Now, under the ethereal silver glow of the moon, his figure moved like a restless specter through the rugged terrain, his sharp gaze sweeping over every crevice, every glint of stone, unwilling to let even the smallest detail escape him.

As Ashwatthama approached a small, meandering stream, he decided it was time for a brief respite. His horse, weary from the relentless search, dipped its muzzle into the cool water, drinking eagerly. He knelt beside the stream, scooping a handful of the crystal-clear liquid and letting it wash over his parched throat. The icy freshness jolted his senses awake, but just as he lowered his hands, something caught his eye.

In the shimmering ripples of the stream, a flicker of light wavered against the deepening twilight----a glint, high above at a mountain's peak. For a moment, he stood frozen, unsure if exhaustion was conjuring illusions before his weary eyes. Blinking rapidly, he turned, his pulse hammering in his ears. But no, there it was. A shimmer, faint yet unmistakable, pulsing like a distant star against the darkened heights. It called to him, silent yet insistent, like a whisper carried on the wind, urging him onward.

Without wasting another moment, Ashwatthama sprang to his feet, his heart pounding with newfound determination. He swiftly mounted his horse, gripping the reins with steady hands as his gaze remained locked on the distant peak.

With a sharp command, his steed surged forward. The path was treacherous, filled with jagged rocks and narrow ledges, yet he maneuvered through it with unwavering focus, his instincts guiding him. He was close----so close to fulfilling his promise.

As Ashwatthama reached the hilltop, an unsettling silence wrapped around him like an unseen force. The air was unnaturally still, untouched by the whisper of wind or the sound of a single night life. The place felt lifeless, yet his warrior instincts screamed otherwise----something lurked here, hidden but watching.

Then, through the dense mist hovering over the land, he saw a mesmerizing pond, its shallow waters shimmering under the moonlight. The surface was scattered with delicate purple shells, their soft glow mirroring the very gem he had been searching for. His heart leaped in recognition, this was it. The elusive Bhramamani lay within his reach.

He stepped forward, but the moment his steps brushed the water, something cold and muscular coiled around his ankle with lightning speed. Before he could react, a powerful force yanked him off the ground, flipping him upside down. The world spun in a blur of dark sky and rippling water as he found himself suspended mid-air, ensnared by an enormous, scaly tail.

A deep, menacing hiss echoed through the night. As his vision steadied, he came face to face with a monstrous serpent----a creature unlike any he had encountered before. Its massive form loomed over the pond, its three enormous heads rising high, each crowned with a radiant Bhramamani. The gemstones pulsed with an eerie glow, casting flickering violet reflections upon the serpent's glistening scales.

The beast's golden eyes bore into him. It was no ordinary snake, this was a guardian, an ancient protector of the sacred gemstone. And now, Ashwatthama found himself caught in its grasp, hanging helplessly in the grasp of the creature that threatened his life.

Ashwatthama tilted his head, a slow smirk spreading across his face as he tapped his sword "I