A/N-Quickly, before we start this chapter, I would just like to thank everyone for 60,000 reads. 60,000. That's me if I cloned 59,999 times. That's a lot of Mochus. And that's a lot of reads. Thank you, everybody, for somehow still being engaged with this monster of a book.

Also, before I begin, quick link to the Official Playlist https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2RaAfcfoe2Ar1g6t6mNVkx?si=eaceb2236e5b4879

Alright, let's start the beginning of the end of the (extremely long) Yudh Kand.

Song of the chapter: Kasumbi from Parmanu

--

"We are all born on the Earth to do something. You will know when that something presents itself. There will be some calling echoing in your head, some desperate voice begging for your attention, a nudge or a full-out push into the conflict. But remember, never lose yourself. You are the key to your own success. Always remember your name, Lakshman."

Lakshman. Lakshman. Lakshman. Lakshman blinked multiple times, feeling someone, something calling to him. It was a murky voice, as if being held under water. It was a shredded arm reaching towards him. It was the muffled light of victory guiding him through the ragged jungle of difficulty. Lakshman gripped his bow, slinging it over his shoulder. He was determined to follow this beckon.

When he was a baby, Lakshman recalled his first word. It was a cry for his Ram bhaiyya when he tripped on the hallways and scraped his knee. He remembered the thought process that had led to the name reaching his lips. The mouth motion Maa Kaushalya made when calling to his elder brother. He simply mimicked her, in a time of desperation, not even knowing what he did, and lo! His Ram bhaiyya showed up!

He always followed Ram bhaiyya blindly, just like that first call. He wasn't quite aware of what he was doing, but just knew that it was right. If Ram bhaiyya told him to jump off a cliff, he would do so, knowing that it was for the good. Someone's good. That was what he was about.

He felt as if he was going to do something very different now. This wasn't a venture he was walking into blindly. He could sense the path that had been paved for him. The plan he was to follow. Every single consequence of his actions registered in his brain. It wasn't a motion he was blindly copying. It was years of training and injuries and getting back up again. It was his moment of reckoning.

And Lakshman certainly felt reckoned.

He felt the scrutinizing eyes of the Gods above eying him. He felt his father's gaze upon the top of his (high) head as he calmly threw some arrows randomly into his quiver. It must have been judgmental. Dashrath always told him to prepare properly, or prepare to forfeit. But Dashrath, in all his preparation, was not quite ready for his own moment of reckoning. Lakshman felt that perhaps a little winging it wouldn't hurt among all this self confidence.

He heard the gentle pattering footsteps before he saw them. Hanuman walked in, mace ready in the crook of his elbow. "Are you ready, Lakshman bhaiyya?"

Lakshman felt a lot of things. He felt anticipatory, eager, and ever slightly nauseous. He felt the familiar devil of war blossom in him. He felt his heart beating at the surface of his chest, ready to burst out. He was feeling reckoned and beckoned, and the motivation not to score second in a battle where one could only ever be first.

But, if there was some person writing about him and his thoughts, there was only one thing worth knowing. Lakshman felt ready.

-----O-----

Ram's smile greeted the ready man at the edge of the tent. He was the only man who stood there, hands spread wide, almost reassuringly. Lakshman swallowed as he walked towards his elder brother, short hair brushing and curling around his neck as he walked in long, loping steps. He didn't meet Ram's embrace. He leant down and touched his feet reverently, touching both his hands to his temple, before standing up, bowing his head slightly.

And then, to the surprise of them both, he hugged Ram. It was quick, a short squeeze, a head resting on a shoulder, before he pulled away, staring only at Ram's feet as if he wished he were back at their helm. But Ram, he smiled. He moved Lakshman's face to meet the gaze of his own. And he placed both of his arms on Lakshman's shoulders, lifting him up again even though he was already standing.

This Ram reminded Lakshman starkly of the toddler one who had appeared almost instantly at his call. He pulled Lakshman up from the floor, dusting off his shoulders and letting him lean on him. He bandaged Lakshman's wounds carefully with salve and cloth from the Healer's. He countered each tear with a smile and words that warmed the essence of the spirit.

Ram dusted off any of Lakshman's doubts. Newly bandaged, Lakshman braced for the battlefield, knowing, if anything, that his Ram bhaiyya would be there to lift him up again. Now it was his turn to heal the elder by the one thing he knew how to do.

------O------

Okay, so Lakshman was ready to kill Indrajit. What he was not ready for? The long walk. As it turned out, the cave where the prayers were happening wasn't a short, convenient stroll away. It was a walk down the miles long battlefield, and then apparently a winding path through some very inconspicuous woods, and then some other labyrinths that he was sure Vibhishan forgot to mention.

"Exactly how far is it?" Hanuman asked impatiently, trying to contain his excitement. "It feels like we've been walking for hours. We left at the first ray of dawn, and now the sun is directly above us. When we finally reach that mountain, Meghnad will not only be finished with his prayers, he'll have built a throne to sit on to await our arrival."

"It's just this way," Vibhishan encouraged, pointing his arm in the general forward direction. "Just, you see, that tall mountain over there? The dark one. Inside that, there is a cave. Some long winding steps, and you're there! Don't lose hope!" This message would have been much more helpful if he himself wasn't half leaning on some monkeys to walk and muttering every second that his back was killing him.

Lakshman gritted his teeth, blue nerves popping up in the temples of his forehead. He could feel the doom chasing them, and unlike him, it was accelerating in speed and nearing its target. He swore he had seen that same tree at least fifteen times now. But maybe it was just his lack of botanical knowledge. "Why doesn't Hanuman just fly us there?" he asked, finally exhausted of everything.

Hanuman perked up. "Yes, we should do that! I can finally be of some help! And it's certainly less suspicious than half an army walking on the battlefield. Come, climb on my shoulders!"

Vibhishan turned a pale shade of green, shaking his head. "You may not be able to see the entrance if you're too high. And I have an inherent fear of heights, quite unfortunately."

"And I have an inherent fear of losing this battle." Lakshman barked. "So let's get to the cave as soon as possible, and you can stay as close to Mother Earth as remotely possible while I kill Meghnad before he becomes invincible and explodes the world and every existing shred of dharma there is, along with all of us!" He bowed his head slightly towards Hanuman before climbing up on his shoulders, and giving Vibhishan a glare.

Vibhishan gulped, before sighing nasally, grasping the prince's hand so he could sit on Hanuman's shoulders as well. "It's just northward."

------O-------

They arrived at the the base of a dark mountain. The surrounding mountains were golden, lush with plants, and brimming with life. But this mountain, damp and colored a deep pitch, stood sharp instead of rounded with soil, jagged instead of smooth, a devil in the midst of angels. Lakshman stepped off Hanuman's shoulders, eying the mountain suspiciously. Hanuman shrunk down to his normal size, eyes darting.

Vibhishan opened and closed his mouth rapidly like a fish who was just trying to breathe. Lakshman glanced towards him, raising a questioning eyebrow. "I-I don't know." Vibhishan finally managed to breathe out. "There was an entrance here. It's a cave. It's supposed to be a cave, with Indrajit inside, praying to Nikumbila Devi. I know it, no, I am sure of it! I have been here before to give my prayers to the goddess."

"But there is no entrance here," Hanuman pointed out sharply, gesturing towards the smooth mountain. Not a single depression stood out in its jutting surface. Lakshman ran a hand on it absentmindedly, as if trying to trace a pattern.

"Yes, as expected." Vibhishan stated sharply. "Of course he wouldn't make it obvious. Then, things like mole rats and ants could disturb his yagnas. Why couldn't you defeat the man? Oh father, it was because of this armadillo! Such pests, I tell you. He traced a pattern on a certain part of the cave. Hmm, where is it?" Vibhishan ran his fingers across the cave until a certain area must have felt right to him. "Oh! Here! The pattern was the name 'Indra'."

Vibhishan tried it, but to no avail. 'What?" he mouth, before trying again, tracing the name over and over again on the smooth stone. The entire army that stood behind him could hear time ticking like a pockettwatch attached to a giant bomb. Its clicking rang in their ears. Every second, it felt as if someone had doused them with blood.

Lakshman leaned in, trying it out himself. Hanuman focused on Vibhishan's memory, however. "Yuvraj Vibhishan," he began, trying to be assertive, even if his voice seemed strained with desperation. "Are you absolutely sure it was this mountain? Is this but an illusion of Meghnad, meant to trick us?"

"Yes!" Vibhishan cried. "Yes! Fully! Completely! It is traced on every map in Lanka. I saw it every day, marked with red, on Ravan's grand map! It cannot be any other mountain other than this! I recognize illusions. They sparkle and can glitch if you take their name. Do you see this mountain? It is as solid as Shri Ram's morals!" Vibhishan knocked on the rock to be sure.

A loud crashing cut them both. They whirled their heads around to where the palm print on the mountain sparkled and glimmered. "It was my name," Lakshman said calmly. "It's ironic. He changes the magic every time to take the name of the person he is trying to defeat by performing the yagna."

They stared at the mountain as it sparkled. Slowly, some parts began weathering away, but not quick enough. "If I continue to wait, he'll be done with the yagna, and we'll just see his ugly face on the other side," Lakshman growled, before kicking at the particles, breaking the door open. The rock shards broke away, forming a perfectly curved entrance into a dark abyss that reeked of decay.

Lakshman wrinkled his nose as he glanced around, scanning the entire area with judgmental eyes. "Let's go," he declared, and began stalking angrily down the long pathway. Vibhishan gulped, but on the eager nudging of Hanuman, entered as well, trying to keep his gaze focused on the back of Lakshman's head. Hanuman followed eagerly, swinging around his mace already, and thousands of tiny footsteps pattered after him.

"Oh! It's doesn't look too bad..." Hanuman trailed off as the hallway lengthened. The roof was lined with human skulls, rapidly yellowing and rotting away. "Nevermind," he said, turning away. His voice was laced with disgust. Despite having seen skulls crushed and bodies bleeding out, this disrespect tortured his sight more than anything else.

Lakshman glanced around, jaw clenched harder than ever. Suddenly, he turned around. "Vibhishan, are you certain this is the right cave? I see only darkness." He gestured wildly around, eyes flashing.

"YES!" Vibhishan shouted back, sounding close to tears himself. "I am sure of it! It was this very mountain! It is famous on Lanka's maps, enter the city, and you will find it everywhere! I have never actually seen the devi in person, for I wasn't allowed to, but-" Vibhishan cut himself off, slapping a hand over his mouth. "Oh no. What if the idol isn't even here? That makes sense. A fail proof to prevent traitors!"

"No," Hanuman murmured. "I don't believe it is." He pointed somewhere forward, and both Lakshman and Vibhishan turned rapidly.

They saw a cluster of statues. White, chipped, made of a plaster like material. They stood in a circle, each of them pointing to the pathway forward, splattered with blood. "Look," a vanar whispered. "All the men that Meghnad has defeated with his blessings from Nikumbila Devi." For, in each of these statues, an arrow pierced the heart, the forehead, the stomach. Their faces were pleading, shameful. Defeated.

"They're meant to mock anyone who came here," Vibhishan said sadly. "And provide a sense of victory renewed to Indrajit." The entire army paused. Those courageous warriors, selfless and devoted, felt the statues of the men who had died at Meghnad's hands towering over them, casting their shadow on their faces, warning away with their grimaces and tortured visage.

But Lakshman suddenly felt his anger flare up again. OH? So Meghnad wanted to mock him now? That snake shooter, that illusioner, that coward wanted to mock him? "Come on!" He snarled. "If we wait any longer, I'll become one of those statues. If I go into this battle today, I don't want to look pathetic. I fight for my brother, Shri Ram. I will die honorably if I am defeated." Then, nose pointed up, he started walking. "And when I win, I intend to crush this cave into smithers."

-----O-----

The scent of smothering smoke filled the narrow pathway. Lakshman shoved aside boulders, helping Hanuman through the tight crevices, when a loud chanting reached his ears. Hanuman's head snapped up to where the sound came from, and he bound forward, followed quickly by Lakshman. Some of the army stayed behind.

"Here!" Hanuman called. "Here!" He raced, he leaped over boundaries, he threw obstacles away. The narrow pathway broadened, and broadened still, into a larger clearing. He fanned away the smoke with one of his magnamious hands, squinting so that he could see through the haze. The chanting became louder, louder still. It surrounded them, bouncing off the walls of the cave. It echoed, as if ten thousand men and not one stood there.

All of a sudden, Hanuman came to a halt. Some irritant had leaked into the air. The smoke turned red with the vermillion powder, and Vibhishan clenched his teeth together as his hands went towards his eyes to cover them. Even Hanuman didn't seem immune to this mysterious new magic, rubbing his eyes furiously so that he would be able to see the sight before him, clear the smoke and confront the evil.

A sharp, shrill wind swept past both of them, and a loud clatter interrupted the chanting. The muttered words came to a sudden halt.

From behind both of them, emerged the fated warrior. His steps were as confident as the rain that fell outside, as the thunder which clashed and roared at the mountain. In the dim light of the flickering lanterns, his shadow grew and stretched and swallowed up the impression of any other being. He was the man. His eyes blazed as angrily as his hair, like the merciless fire that only knew how to consume. They didn't blink, they didn't water, they stared angrily through the smoke like the third eye of Shiva.

Through the heavy haze, Meghnad turned around. In his eyes nested and bred pathetic fear, the killer of his brethren.

Behind him, pots of red tipped over, scattering over the damp floor. The aarti fire spread around him as an arrow lay, embedded into the ground, barely a hair's breadth from his feet.

A/N-itwasn'tmyfault.

So, Pri told me that it wasn't any problem that I updated the story before I managed to finish off Indrajit, and that I should just update and it wasn't my fault! So, I said, okay, i mean, if a reader just wants the update, let me do it!  So, hehe, if someone wants to be mad (coughcough-Amita-coughcough), it wasn't me!

Speaking of Amita, I think I should probably applaud her here for completing the Inseperable Princes! That book was a work of art. It was perfectly timed, well sectioned, and wisely separated (unlike yours truly). 10/10. Rave reviews. We will never see anything like it again.

Anyways, Indrajit is going to die in the next chapter, because I do not have enough material to stretch this out even more. Ok? It's just not possible. I can write endless poetic journeys, but one paragraph of war, and I'm done. I might just commission Amita to write my entire Indrajit death chapter. How do I pay her? Amita, name a price!

Anyhoo, this chapter was pretty decent length, na? The next chapter will have TWO bonus scenes, partying, the whole Indrajit dying schdig (frankly not as important as the partying), AND a lil something something extra. 

SO LET US ALL HOPE AND PRAY THAT IT EXCEEDS 3000 WORDS OR I SWEAR TO LAKSHMAN-