The next morning, the skies above Hastinapura were still pale with the fading colours of dawn when Duryodhana left the palace with a royal escort to receive his sister and Karna from the outskirts.
The roads leading toward Rishi Jamali's Ashram were still damp from the night dew. Thin streams of morning mist floated above the earth, while the sound of horse hooves echoed rhythmically through the quiet forest roads. Behind Duryodhana rode a disciplined unit of Kuru soldiers carrying the banners of Hastinapura, their spears glinting beneath the growing sunlight.
But despite the royal escort and the formal purpose of the journey, Duryodhana's mind was elsewhere.
Part of him remained occupied with the plans forming silently around Varanavata. Another part was occupied with Karna. And the more he thought about Karna, the more complicated his thoughts became.
Because the man he had originally intended to use politically had slowly become someone he genuinely respected. That was the troublesome part. Karna was not like Shakuni, not like court nobles, not like ambitious kings. There was a strange straightforwardness to him that made deception around him feel uncomfortable even for Duryodhana at times.
Yet the throne remained before him like an obsession he could no longer escape. And now the game had already gone too far.
As the procession neared the ashram, Duryodhana's thoughts finally settled when he saw familiar figures waiting near the entrance beneath the large banyan trees.
The moment Dushala saw the royal chariot stop, her eyes widened.
"Eldest Brother!" she cried softly.
Before the attendants could even lower the steps fully, Duryodhana had already jumped down from the chariot and hurried toward her. Dushala ran toward him as well. The siblings embraced tightly beneath the morning light while the surrounding soldiers respectfully lowered their gazes.
For several moments neither spoke. Duryodhana simply held her firmly, as though reassuring himself she was truly safe. The palace truly had felt emptier without her. Among the hundred Kaurava brothers, Dushala alone had always softened the harshness of the royal household. And for Duryodhana especially, she was precious.
"I missed you," he said quietly, his voice rougher than usual. "The palace became unbearably silent without you these past two years."
Dushala's eyes turned moist again.
"You are exaggerating," she whispered softly while smiling through tears.
"I am not," Duryodhana replied at once. "Every festival felt incomplete. Every gathering. Even Mother kept speaking of you constantly. We missed our only dear sister so much..." Then his face darkened slightly. "And when I heard about the attack on the ashram…" His jaw tightened visibly. "I wanted to burn down every forest between Kashi and Hastinapura."
Dushala lowered her eyes. The memories of the burning ashram still lingered heavily in her mind—the smell of smoke, the cries, the bodies, the fear. And then Karna appeared through the flames like divine sunlight piercing darkness. Even now, merely remembering that moment made her heartbeat change strangely.
Duryodhana slowly released her before glancing toward Karna, who stood nearby calmly beside his divine chariot. The morning breeze moved lightly against Karna's golden angavastra while the sunlight reflected faintly against his natural armour. Even standing silently, his presence carried unusual weight—enough that even Kuru soldiers unconsciously avoided staring at him directly for too long.
Duryodhana stepped forward respectfully.
"Maharaj Karna," he said sincerely, "Hastinapura owes you greatly once again."
Karna merely shook his head lightly.
"There is no debt between us for protecting a princess," he answered calmly. "Anyone capable of doing so should act."
Duryodhana smiled faintly. Even now the man spoke without arrogance. That strangely made him even more dangerous.
"I request you," Duryodhana said carefully, "please honour Hastinapura by staying in the palace for several days. You rescued my sister and personally escorted her safely despite your own responsibilities. If you leave without allowing us to properly thank you, my father will feel insulted."
Karna's eyes narrowed slightly—not visibly enough for most people to notice. But internally something felt strange. The Duryodhana he remembered from nearly two years ago would never speak with such measured diplomacy and emotional persuasion together. This version of Duryodhana felt… different. More controlled. More political. More calculating.
Had the prince truly matured this much? Or was something else hidden beneath it?
Karna quietly observed him for several seconds. The morning wind rustled through the trees. In the distance, temple bells echoed faintly across the forest roads.
Finally Karna took a slow breath.
"Very well," he said at last. "I shall stay briefly."
Duryodhana's smile widened slightly.
"Thank you."
Soon afterward preparations began for departure. Dushala was seated inside Duryodhana's royal chariot while Karna followed behind them upon his own divine chariot, maintaining respectful distance as the royal escort moved back toward Hastinapura.
Inside the chariot, the atmosphere between the siblings gradually softened.
Duryodhana spoke about the palace, about Gandhari missing her constantly, about the brothers arguing endlessly. Dushala listened quietly, smiling softly at times while the familiar sounds of Hastinapura's roads slowly returned around them.
Then eventually she asked about the Pandavas.
The moment their names surfaced, Duryodhana's expression changed—subtly, but noticeably. The warmth disappeared from his face almost instantly.
"They are busy with their duties," he answered shortly while looking outside the chariot. "They are fine. Nothing particularly interesting."
Dushala blinked softly. She noticed the stiffness immediately. But she wisely did not continue further.
The silence lingered for some time afterward. Then slowly, as the palace walls became visible in the far distance, Duryodhana lowered his voice slightly.
"Dushala."
She looked toward him.
"What do you think of Karna?"
The question came suddenly enough that Dushala nearly froze. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her dupatta. Her face slowly turned pink. And her eyes instinctively lowered.
Duryodhana watched quietly. That reaction alone already answered enough. A faint smile appeared on his lips.
"So…" he murmured teasingly, "do you think I should arrange a grand swayamvara for my dear sister?"
Dushala's blush deepened instantly.
"Or…" Duryodhana continued while pretending seriousness, "should I simply arrange the marriage directly?"
Dushala looked utterly embarrassed now. Even the tips of her ears had turned red. After several moments of struggling to answer, she finally whispered softly,
"I will accept whatever my brother believes is best for me."
Duryodhana leaned back slowly, satisfied. Very satisfied.
Meanwhile behind them, Karna's divine chariot moved silently through the roads toward the capital. But unlike the others, his thoughts were elsewhere. Something felt wrong. Ever since arriving near Hastinapura, a strange unease had lingered within him—as though some invisible shadow was slowly gathering nearby.
After reaching the palace, Karna was escorted respectfully toward the royal guest quarters prepared for him once again.
The servants attended him carefully while guards remained stationed nearby with visible discipline. But after entering his chamber, Karna did not rest. Instead, he sat cross-legged upon the floor and closed his eyes for meditation.
The room gradually fell silent.
Only the faint fragrance of sandalwood incense drifted through the air while sunlight entered softly through the carved stone windows. Karna steadied his breathing slowly. His divine energy settled. His consciousness deepened.
And then—suddenly—fire.
A violent flash erupted across his vision. Screams. Heat. Burning wood collapsing. Smoke swallowing the sky. A palace engulfed in flames.
The vision vanished instantly.
Karna's eyes snapped open. His breathing remained steady, but his expression hardened slightly.
"What was that?" he murmured quietly.
This was different. When he received visions before, they usually carried emotional clarity, urgency, direction. But this… this felt fragmented. Incomplete.
Karna closed his eyes again and focused deeper this time, consciously activating his Divyadristi. Golden energy moved faintly beneath his eyelids. And once more the vision returned—a massive residence burning violently, walls collapsing inward, people trapped inside, the smell of oil and lac, flames spreading unnaturally fast.
Then suddenly the vision cut off again.
Karna opened his eyes slowly. A faint frown formed.
"This resembles no ordinary fire…" he thought silently.