Around the same time, Karna and Mrinalini arrived near the outskirts of Kashi with a modest royal contingent.
Unlike his earlier grand political journeys, this visit was personal. Quiet. Somber. It marked the sixth anniversary of Mrinalini's parents' deaths.
The atmosphere around both husband and wife remained subdued during the journey. Even the soldiers spoke softly out of respect. The sacred rituals were performed over two days beside the Ganga according to Kashi traditions, with priests chanting mantras continuously while offerings floated down the holy river beneath countless oil lamps.
Mrinalini remained composed throughout the ceremonies. But Karna noticed the slight trembling in her fingers every time her parents' names were spoken aloud during the rites.
It had been 6 years since the incident, but it was still fresh in Mrinalini's head. How the Prince of Mathura, along with the asuras, massacred her parents and the soldiers right in front of her eyes.
He did not interrupt her grief. He simply remained beside her silently — like a mountain beside a storm.
After the rituals concluded, they departed from Kashi alongside a few soldiers from the kingdom itself. Their next destination had been planned as Prayag, and by evening they established a luxurious royal camp beside a quiet forest route.
The night appeared calm at first. Torches burned steadily outside the tents. Soldiers rotated guard duty. Horses rested peacefully. Distant sounds of crickets echoed beneath the dark sky.
Inside the central tent, Karna and Mrinalini quietly conversed while attendants prepared warm drinks nearby.
Then suddenly Karna froze.
His expression changed instantly. His eyes darkened sharply. A violent vision struck his mind — fire, screams, blood, burning huts, dead ascetics, a woman crying amidst corpses.
Karna immediately stood up.
Mrinalini noticed the shift at once.
"What happened, Dear?"
But Karna did not answer immediately. The vision had felt too real. Too intense.
Without wasting another moment, he turned and strode out of the tent. The nearby soldiers straightened instantly in alarm. Karna summoned his divine chariot at once. The seven celestial horses emerged with blazing radiance while winds swirled violently around the campsite.
"Dear?" Mrinalini called again with concern.
Only then did he answer briefly.
"Something terrible happened nearby. I should go and see."
And the next instant the divine chariot shot into the night sky like a streak of sunlight. The speed was terrifying. Forests blurred beneath him. Winds roared around the chariot.
Then finally he saw it.
An ashram burning violently beneath the darkness. Flames consumed wooden buildings while thick smoke rose into the night sky. Screams had already faded, leaving behind only crackling fire and the groans of the dying.
Karna's face hardened.
Without hesitation, he raised his hand and began to speak the mantra of the divyastra.
"Om Varunaya Namah,
Jaladhishaya Mahabalaya,
Samudra-Nathaya Ritasya Goptre,
Yasya Tarangair Dharani Kampate,
Yasya Mahaughair Shatravo Nimajjanti,
Mama Dharma-Sankalpam Grihana.
Varunastra Divya-Shaktim Prabodhaya!
Maha-Samudram Samudbhavaya!
Sarva-Shatrun Jalaughair Plavaya!
Om Varunastram Mokshayami!"
As Varunastra was unleashed, water descended from the heavens like torrential rain, crashing down upon the burning ashram with explosive force. Steam hissed violently as the flames were suppressed rapidly.
Then Karna descended.
And what he saw made even him fall silent briefly.
Bodies. Scattered everywhere. Ascetics. Servants. Disciples. Some still clutching prayer beads. Some burned. Some struck down while trying to flee. The smell of blood, smoke, ash, and wet earth mixed horribly together.
Karna slowly walked through the destruction, his jaw tightening harder with every step. So much meaningless death. So much destruction. All for one target.
One surviving rishi stumbled toward him weakly.
"M-Maharaj…" the old man whispered painfully.
Karna immediately supported him.
"What happened here?"
The rishi coughed heavily.
"Unknown soldiers attacked suddenly… they were searching for a traveler named Viransh…" His trembling finger pointed deeper into the ruined ashram. "They killed everyone who stood in their path."
Karna's eyes darkened further.
Then he sensed someone else. Fear. Shock. A trembling presence hiding among the dead.
Karna moved quickly through the wreckage until finally he found a surprisingly familiar person.
Dushala sat upon the ground amidst bodies and ashes, her clothes stained with soot and blood, her face pale with horror. Her eyes looked empty at first, almost unable to process reality anymore.
Then she saw him.
"Karna…"
Her voice broke instantly. And suddenly all the strength she had maintained shattered completely. She burst into uncontrollable tears. Not elegant royal tears. Not restrained tears. Broken tears — the kind born from terror.
Karna immediately knelt before her.
"It's alright," he said firmly yet gently. "You're safe now, Princess."
Dushala grabbed his arm tightly like someone drowning.
Karna moved carefully through the wreckage until he finally found her.
Dushala sat on the ground amidst the bodies and ashes, her clothes stained with soot and blood. Her face was pale with horror, her eyes empty, as if she could no longer fully understand what had happened.
Then she saw him.
"Karna…"
Her voice broke. All the strength she had been holding onto shattered at once. She burst into tears — raw, uncontrolled tears born from pure terror.
Karna immediately knelt in front of her.
"It's alright," he said firmly but gently. "You're safe now."
Dushala clutched his arm tightly, as if afraid he might disappear.
Her whole body trembled. Karna gently placed his hand on her head. The simple gesture seemed to calm her a little.
After a few moments, Dushala's free hand opened. Inside her clenched fingers was a small, blood-stained sealed letter.
"This…" she said, still struggling to speak clearly. "A man… he was running. He pressed this into my hand and told me… it has to reach the King of Kashi, but he said the letter was for the King of Dakshina Kalinga no matter what."
Karna took the letter carefully. His eyes narrowed slightly.
The letter was meant for him… yet the messenger had insisted it first go through the King of Kashi?
He broke the seal and read.
The letter was written by Varunendra, king of the Matsya-purusha — the fish folk of the eastern waters.
Maharaj Karna,
I write this in desperation. The kingdom of Pragjyotisha, under Narakasura, has formed an alliance with the Kiratas. Together they have begun attacking our undersea realm. Their goal is the relic we have guarded since the days of the Samudra Manthan.
This is no ordinary treasure. It is divine in origin, yet venomous in nature. If it falls into the hands of an evil king like Narakasura, it brings ruin upon the world itself. We cannot surrender it, even to save our people. We need your help. I request an alliance to join us and fight against these adharmic human kings before it is too late
Varunendra
Karna's face became serious at once.
The severity of the situation was clear. And with it came an old memory — the day he had defeated Narakasura in battle, only to spare the Asura's life because the gods themselves had intervened and asked him to stop.
He folded the letter carefully and looked at Dushala again. This time a calm, reassuring smile appeared on his face.
"You have nothing to worry about anymore," he said quietly. "I am here now. I will escort you safely to Hastinapura myself.
Those words — those calm, steady words — finally allowed her terrified mind to breathe again.
Later that night Karna brought Dushala back to the royal camp and handed her into Mrinalini's care personally. After hearing the entire situation, Mrinalini herself comforted Dushala warmly while attendants prepared clean clothes, medicines, and food.
Meanwhile Karna dispatched soldiers immediately toward the ruined ashram. The dead had to be cremated properly. The wounded had to be protected. The survivors needed help.
The planned journey toward Prayag was canceled entirely afterward. Instead they returned to Kashi, where Indraverma personally promised to investigate the attack thoroughly. Karna kept the letter and the matter to himself.
While Dushala stayed at Kashi as the royal guest, Karna also left Mrinalini and the army contingent back at her maternal home before making his way to the eastern sea in his divine chariot.
During that time, Dushala wrote a formal letter. Not to King Dhritarashtra. Not to Bhishma. But to Duryodhana.
Her hands still trembled slightly while writing. She informed him that her year of seva had ended, that she had safely returned to Kashi after tragedy struck the ashram. She made certain to mention one more detail clearly.
Karna promised to escort her to Hastinapura.