The bowstring loosened. The glowing arrow dissolved into particles of golden light and vanished into the night air.
A collective breath left the courtyard. Several guards visibly relaxed. But the relief lasted only moments.
Karna's next words were colder than the weapon he had just lowered.
"I warned you once before, Prince Duryodhana. I do not see kinship when I deliver justice."
The words struck Duryodhana hard. Karna's gaze shifted briefly back to Shakuni.
"If Hastinapura fails to punish Gandhar Raj for his actions, I shall take matters into my own hands. And next time… no one will stop me."
A deep silence followed. Even the torches seemed quieter.
Bhishma turned slowly toward Shakuni. The old warrior's expression had changed completely. Confusion was gone. Only grim disappointment remained.
"Karna never lies," he said, voice firm and absolute. "And he was blessed with divine vision by Mahadev Himself. Whatever he has spoken tonight is not madness."
The words hit Shakuni like a blow. Panic flooded his face.
"No!" He stepped forward desperately. "There must be some mistake! Or perhaps… someone used sorcery upon him!" He pointed upward, hand shaking. "Mahamahim, you must restrain him! He is not thinking clearly!"
Duryodhana seized the opening at once. His expression shifted into carefully controlled concern.
"Grandsire… I think Uncle may be correct." He kept his tone soft. "Karna was acting emotionally, contrary to his composed nature. Pandavas were neither his kin nor his friends. He was never truly close to the Pandavas. I fear… perhaps some dark force or asura's influence has disturbed his mind after hearing of their deaths. Or some sort of sorcery could have affected his mind." He looked up toward Karna. "You must calm him and help him. He is the future son-in-law of Maharaj Dhritarashtra."
Bhishma stared at both uncle and nephew in silence. That silence alone was terrifying.
Then he clapped twice. The sharp sound echoed across the courtyard. Two royal soldiers stepped forward and bowed.
Bhishma's voice turned icy.
"Escort Gandhar Raj Shakuni to his chambers. Until I say otherwise, he is forbidden from leaving his room. And no one…" His gaze shifted meaningfully toward Duryodhana. "…is permitted to visit him."
The implication struck Duryodhana at once.
Shakuni panicked completely.
"Mahamahim!" He struggled as the soldiers took his arms. "Listen to me! This is a misunderstanding! I am innocent!"
His voice echoed desperately through the courtyard while the soldiers restrained him and led him away. Bhishma did not look at him again. The old warrior's silence carried more weight than any shout.
When Shakuni's protests had faded into the corridors, Bhishma turned toward Duryodhana. The prince stiffened under that gaze.
"You," Bhishma said, his voice like stone grinding against stone. "Duryodhana, you were the one responsible for constructing the palace at Varnavata. Therefore you shall also be investigated in this matter."
The words landed like a thunderbolt. Ministers exchanged shocked glances. Vidura looked carefully at Duryodhana.
For a brief second, the prince opened his mouth as if to argue, to explain, to defend himself. No words came. Any negative reaction now could destroy everything.
After a long moment, he lowered his head.
"I… understand, Grandsire."
The words came out quieter than usual, almost heavy. Then Duryodhana turned and began walking back toward the palace. His footsteps sounded slow against the stone.
Though his face remained mostly controlled, fear had finally begun to tighten its grip inside his chest—properly, for the first time since the plan at Varnavata had begun.
*
Later that night, deep inside the royal palace of Hastinapura, the chamber given to Shakuni was lit by only two oil lamps. Their flames flickered restlessly against the stone walls.
Outside the carved windows, the city still mourned the supposed deaths of the Pandavas; distant weeping drifted occasionally through the corridors. Inside the chamber, however, there was no sorrow—only rage.
Shakuni stood beside the window, one hand pressed hard against the stone ledge, the other gripping a silver wine goblet so tightly the veins stood out on his wrist. His breathing was sharp and uneven, not from fear any longer but from the humiliation that had cut deeper than any blade.
Suddenly the goblet flew across the room and shattered against the wall. Red wine ran down the pale stone in crooked lines that looked uncomfortably like blood in the torchlight.
"That damn Karna…"
His voice was low and venomous. His shoulders rose and fell heavily.
"I always knew he was dangerous. But not this dangerous."
The memory of the glowing divine arrow, the bow, those eyes, returned with brutal clarity.
For one terrible moment earlier that night, Shakuni had truly believed death had come for him.
What frightened him most was not the weapon itself. It was Karna's conviction. There had been no hesitation in him—no care that they were about to become in-laws. Only wrath born from what he believed to be dharma. That kind of enemy was the hardest to survive.
Shakuni's jaw tightened.
"If Bhishma had not stopped him tonight, I would already be dead."
Silence settled again, broken only by the crackle of the lamps and the soft scrape of his nails against the stone window frame. Slowly, the fear inside him hardened into something colder.
Hatred.
He wiped the spilled wine from his hand with his robe and stared out into the darkness beyond the palace walls.
"This is not over, Karna. You have so much pride in your righteousness, right? One day, that righteousness of yours will pierce your heart so much that you will ask for death..."
Far away, thunder rolled faintly across the night sky.
*
The next morning, the royal court of Hastinapura was summoned.
At the center of the court stood Shakuni—not proudly, not arrogantly, but like a man forced to defend himself under suspicious eyes. Beside him stood Duryodhana, face stern and guarded, tension visible in the set of his jaw. Upon the throne sat the blind king Dhritarashtra, expression dark with displeasure. Nearby, Bhishma and Vidura waited in grim silence.
The great doors opened.
Karna entered.
The entire court turned toward him. His expression was calmer than it had been yesterday, yet something dangerous still moved beneath that calm—like heat held under cooled stone. His golden angavastra brushed the marble floor as he walked to the center of the hall with measured steps.
Dhritarashtra spoke first.
"Maharaj Karna. Last night, you created great chaos within this palace, forgetting the fact that you are going to be my daughter's husband. We were mourning the tragic deaths of the Pandu princes and Queen Kunti, and yet your accusations have shaken the entire kingdom so severely that every servant and soldier now whispers that Gandhar Raj is the murderer." The king's fingers tightened on the arms of his throne. "If you do not provide a proper explanation today, we shall not remain silent."
The court fell still.
Karna stepped into the center of the sabha and spoke without hesitation.
"Maharaj. Every word I spoke is the truth."
His gaze shifted slowly toward Shakuni. Though his posture remained composed, the restrained fury beneath it became visible once more.
"Gandhar Raj Shakuni, you conspired to murder the Pandu princes and Queen Kunti. You ordered your man Purochana to ignite the palace of lac while they slept inside it."
A wave of whispers rose across the court.
Shakuni stepped forward at once, before the murmuring could grow.
His face was controlled again—too controlled.
"These are grave accusations, Maharaj Karna. You ask this court to accept your words alone as truth?" He spread his hands slightly. "How are we to know whether this divine vision truly showed you such things… or whether you are merely using this so-called vision to frame me?"
He paused, then continued carefully, turning the edge of his words toward Bhishma without naming him directly.
"Even if Mahamahim trusts you… why should I? Perhaps Mahamahim favors you because both of you learned beneath the same guru, Bhagavan Parashurama. Why would he not protect his junior disciple?"
The accusation hung heavily in the air.
Bhishma's face darkened at once.
"Gandhar Raj." His voice nearly growled. "If you cannot control your tongue, then at least control your tone."
The ministers fell silent immediately.
Dhritarashtra raised one hand to calm the rising tension, then turned to Karna.
"Maharaj Karna. Do you possess proof? This is a royal court. Words alone are not enough here. Evidence matters. Can you present proof for your accusations? We cannot take your words as evidence to deliver judgment..."
For a moment, silence held.
Then Karna answered directly.
"Very well. If evidence is what this court desires, then I shall bring evidence. In three days."
The entire court looked stunned.
"If I fail to prove Shakuni's involvement in this crime," Karna continued, "I shall stand in this very court and publicly apologize to Gandhar Raj and to Maharaj before everyone. And afterward… I shall never raise this matter again."
Complete silence followed those words. Even Dhritarashtra seemed momentarily unsettled.
Finally, the king spoke, voice heavy with exhaustion.
"So be it. Until then, no further accusations shall be made openly. The matter shall be investigated properly."
Karna gave no reply. No bow. No further words. He simply turned and walked away from the court in silence. The sound of his footsteps echoed across the marble hall.