Lady Sachi looked at her husband with concern. It took her a while to cajole the heavenly emperor to rest. Lord Purandhara tossed and turned on his grand, opulent bed in the celestial palace, the plush silks and velvets could not provide him any comfort. His brow furrowed, and his breath came in ragged gasps. The ethereal light of Swarga Loka bathed the room in a constant, soothing glow, yet it did little to ease his restlessness.
In the dark recesses of his mind, memories forgone surfaced like a giant wave upending the calm ocean of his mind. This was the time of the Great Drought, the one caused by the serpent dragon, Vritra who had held all the waters of the world as hostage. Bhu-loka, once lush and verdant, became a barren wasteland. Cracked earth stretched endlessly, fissures snaking across the desolate plains. The parched ground shimmered under the relentless sun, waves of heat distorting the horizon. Rivers that once flowed with life were now desiccated scars, their beds littered with the bones of dead fish. Villages lay abandoned, their wells dry and crumbling, the fields barren and dust-blown. The cries of the suffering echoed through the emptiness like a haunting chorus of despair that pierced the helpless silence of the gods.
Purandhara’s heart pounded in his chest as he floated above the desolation. He found himself standing on a battlefield, the sky darkened by the shadow of the serpent dragon, the latter rose from the depths of the earth, his colossal shadow eclipsing the sky. The enormous body of the serpent dragon towered above him, blocking out the light. Vritra’s immense, sinuous body is coiled and uncoiled, stretching across the horizon like a dark river. Scales the colour of midnight glistened with an eerie, oily sheen, reflecting the sparse light in the darkened landscape. His eyes, twin orbs of blazing fire, radiated an intense, underworld menace. Each breath he took released plumes of dark smoke that coiled upwards, tainting the sky with their darkness.
“You are powerless, Purandhara,” Vritra taunted, his voice a deep, resonant growl, that filled the air. “Your people suffer, and you can do nothing to save them.”
Purandhara’s grip tightened on the Vajra, his thunderbolt weapon. He raised the vajra, his eyes narrowing. With a swift motion, he hurled the vajra towards Vritra, aiming for the serpent's heart. But Vritra was quick, his immense body undulating as he twisted out of the weapon’s path. The vajra struck the ground, sending up a shower of sparks and debris.
“Is that all you’ve got, Purandhara?” he mocked, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
Purandhara gritted his teeth, retrieving the vajra with a swift motion. He launched himself at Vritra, aiming strike after strike at the elusive serpent. But Vritra moved with a speed that belied his massive size, dodging each attack with fluid grace. His scales shimmered darkly, reflecting the vajra’s light as it missed its mark time and time again.
The battlefield echoed with the sounds of their struggle—the thunderous clash of the vajra against the ground, Vritra’s mocking laughter, and Purandhara’s labored breathing. The air was thick with tension, the ground scarred by their battle. Purandhara could feel his strength waning, each missed strike sapping his energy and eroding his confidence.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
Vritra’s laughter echoed across the barren plains and sent a shiver down Lord Purandhara’s spine. The serpent dragon’s massive head lowered, bringing his blazing eyes level with Purandhara. The heat from Vritra’s breath scorched the air, and the ground trembled with each hiss.
Sweat dripped down Purandhara’s temples, mingling with the dust on his skin. His muscles ached, his vision blurred, and doubt began to creep into his mind. Vritra’s voice taunted him, each word a dagger to his already bruised pride.
“You rely on the sacrifices of others, Purandhara,” Vritra sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “But sacrifices will not save you now.”
Just as despair threatened to overwhelm him, beams of radiant light pierced through the smoke that choked the battlefield. Purandhara’s eyes widened in awe as four dazzling lights broke through the gloom, cutting through the darkness with a searing brilliance.
From the heavens descended Atisha’s divine sword, its blade a shimmering cascade of ethereal light. It sliced through the air with a high-pitched hum, positioning itself in the east. Close behind followed the divine bow, its golden arc taut with an arrow made of pure energy, taking its place in the west. Next, the divine mace appeared, a massive, glowing weapon that radiated an intense, pulsating light. It moved with purpose, hovering in the north like a vigilant guardian. Finally, the divine chakra, a spinning disk of incandescent light, circled with blinding speed, its edges shimmering with cosmic power, anchoring the south.
The divine sword, bow, mace, and chakra stood in the four cardinal directions and formed a celestial web that trapped the mighty serpent dragon - their combined light so intense that it seemed to burn away the darkness itself. Vritra, found himself immobilized. Brilliant threads of light connected the four weapons, weaving an intricate, glowing net that encased Vritra. His scales, once glistening with an eerie, oily sheen, now reflected the radiant light of the cosmic weapons, creating a mesmerizing but terrifying sight.
General Atisha, the goddess of War descended from the clouds, her eyes fixed on the serpent dragon as she directed her weapons to tighten their hold on Vritra. The serpent dragon roared in defiance, but the divine light held him fast, his immense body unable to break free from the celestial web of power.
"Take him down now, Purandhara!" Atisha’s voice rang out, clear and resolute, cutting through the din of battle.
Summoning every ounce of his remaining strength, Purandhara hurled the vajra with all his might. The thunderbolt soared through the air, a streak of light trailing behind it. It cut through the radiant beams of Atisha’s weapons, merging with their glow for an instant before striking Vritra with a force that sent shockwaves through the entire three worlds.
Vritra’s eyes widened in shock, his roar turning into a deafening scream of agony as the vajra pierced his form. The serpent dragon's body convulsed, shattering into a million fragments.
“You rely on the sacrifices of others…” Vritra’s voice echoed, even as his form disintegrated into nothingness.
Lord Purandhara awoke with a start startling Lady Sachi who had sat beside him.
“My Lord,” she said. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” brushed off the heavenly emperor as he stumbled into the celestial balcony. The cool celestial air doing little to calm his racing heart. He looked out over the timeless beauty of Swarga Loka, the golden spires and radiant gardens bathed in an eternal glow. The stars twinkled indifferently, their light cold and distant.
You rely on the sacrifices of others. The voice of the mighty serpent dragon kept reverberating in his ears. You rely on the sacrifices of others. You rely on the sacrifices of others.