Trigger Warning-Somewhat Scary Ending

The celebrations ran on late into the night, and would have gone into the early morning if Lakshman had not, with a sensible mind, loudly hit an ancient Chinese gong (which no one knew existed, but apparently it was in the corner all along). At that, everyone startled, and monkeys started running all over the place till Sugriv blew a whistle slung around his neck loudly, and the entire army gathered in front of Ram again.

Ram folded his arms behind his back as Lakshman discreetly snuck into the crowd again, removing his flower crown and multiple garlands, placing them lightly on the cots. "We may be celebrating because some of our major enemies were defeated today, but Ravan, Meghnad, and all his tricks still remain. We have made our way past so many adversaries, and we cannot afford to lose our drive now," Ram looked around.

There seemed nothing but murmurs of agreement in the mass of heads full of brown fur. Hanuman, the massive one amongst the monkeys, put his chainmail crown back on, and Sugriv adjusted his necklaces, rubbing the side of his neck. There were a few seconds of awkward silence, before it seemed collectively agreed that everyone needed to either get their sleep, or do their work.

The Healer monkeys paced back towards the sides of the cots, removing the decorations and partying materials off the injured vanars reluctantly. The guards and watchmen positioned themselves at the entrance of the tent so that they could watch (no, I thought it was sing) leaving only the major army generals awake as the army proceeded to their own mats and beds again. Rishabha scratched his neck with his long fingernail before walking towards the beds himself.

Mainda and Dwivida exchanged a look as Vibhishan set down his tea on the table, folding his hands together tightly, knuckles whitening. "Now that Ravan's sons are dead," he began, closing his eyes tightly for a moment, and in that second, Ram was fleetingly reminded that these were his nephews, people he had probably helped raise, seen grow up. Vibhishan may have seen these warriors since infancy, how their pure minds were soon corrupted.

"Now that Ravan's sons are dead," Vibhishan tried again. "-I don't know who he shall send next. He still has plenty of skilled warriors left, but Ravan isn't one to de-escalate. The specialized warriors who are still in the court will not go out on their own, because there is no possible way they're better than the ones he sent out today. He knows that if you defeated his sons, it would be a waste of time and men to send them out on their own."

Ram leaned in as Vibhishan paused. Ram was a patient person, and he exhaled as Vibhishan shut his eyes wearily. It was not the wise demon suddenly hesitant to convey information. It was merely the knowledge that had suddenly become clear, the knowledge that his entire family would die. Everyone he had grown up with, the infants he had seen transform into brainwashed demons. Despite their bitter, unrighteous acts, they were his family. And they would die by the hands of the man sitting in front of him.

Vibhishan was the pure epitome of treason, for wasn't treason betraying trust for another movement? And wasn't Vibhishan family, the most trusted group in the court. And hadn't Vibhishan been ready to betray all of their secrets to a movement which would exterminate his race? Vibhishan inhaled loudly, and Ram leaned back, suddenly needing his own cup of tea. It seemed that it was going to be a long night.

-----O-----

They were awake all night, but that wasn't particularly unusual. Ram did not know how many nights he had spent these past few weeks, awake, unable to sleep. It had turned the skin under his eyes even darker than his complexion, and every time he closed his eyes, he felt closer to succumbing to the enrapturing grasp of sleep. It took immense physical strength to be able to open his eyes again, and let light flood into the wishful darkness.

The night sky, once pitch black and absent of twinkling stars, for it was a cloudy day, turned lighter, ever lighter, the familiar faint blue of dawn as the sun pulled itself up into the blanket covering the Earth. Ram swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he rubbed his eyes. 

Vibhishan had stepped back, and soon fallen asleep, his head slumping over his shoulder exhaustedly, skin of the neck curling. Wincing from the aching in his limbs, Ram stood up, and stretched, his back muscles turning taut and loose.

All around him, even the vanars who had promised to work the entire night had fallen asleep, standing, sitting, lying face down on the floor, hunched over the planned work, clutching the wall, light snores echoing throughout the hall. 

Ram sighed again, his face unreadable, before he walked out of the tent, finding Lakshman, hands on his knees, sitting down, taking up the position of the guardsmen. They exchanged a glance, before Ram turned towards the silhouette of Lanka, the morning light entering each and every crevice and turn of the great dome in the distance.

-----O-----

Lost were the hours of the early morning when laziness was allowed, when life contemplations were warranted, standing importantly in the chilly morning air. 

The sad, but accepted truth was that one did not need to clear his mind for an approaching war. All that was necessary was a steady grip around a weapon and a drive to kill. And if you did not want to kill, you had to heal, and if you could not do that, then you would be killed.

No one was exempt from this rule, it seemed. The entire army of Ram's assembled as they had done many days before without fault. They did not stand in an organized, clean block pattern, of rows and rows of soldiers. They scattered around the land near the Healing Tent. Cleaning their hands, Healers stood at the front of the tent, watching the army in front of them with sad, upturned eyes, lips thin.

It was the small time they had before the day truly began, because they knew that in the first few seconds of war, already, the cargo of injured would start flowing in like a steady river. Ram stood at the side of this army, pacing back and forth, hand folded behind his back. It was like the first day of the war all over again, though he didn't know why.

Perhaps it was because he didn't know what was coming. Perhaps it was because, for the first time in a long time, he walked into this battlefield with a fresh mind. Or perhaps it was a newly found drive to retrieve his wife.

Ram walked towards the front of the army, though he normally stood in the back, and there, found a most pleasant, but rather cool breeze that swept through his lungs. Hanuman grasped a conch, and blew it loudly so that the shrill sound reached the ears of every resident in Lanka. Their heroes would die today, and nothing could change that, except, of course, the woman in the garden.

Ravan's army finally escaped the golden gates, and Ram was surprised. Not because of the sheer magnitude of rakshasas that day, not because of the sudden clinking of silver chains which ringed in his ears incessantly (the sound was much different now that he stood at the helm of the army like some sort of commander, it sounded like an alarm. Snooze dammit!). But, because there was no golden-horned, chariot racing, demon horse companionate great warrior at the front. He turned towards Vibhishan, who displayed only awe on his face.

But regardless of the absence of great warriors in Ravan's, the war was going to happen, no matter what, and the army was ready. The two masses, one brown and scattered, another black as the plague and tightly packed, rushed towards each other.

Back at the tent, the Healers still watched, faint heartedly. Many closed their eyes as the two armies met each other like two waves clashing with each other, hands clenched tightly. "JAI SHRI RAM!" The roar echoed throughout the bowl, rattling the very Earth itself, enveloping the barbaric screams of Ravan's side. Ram stood back, licking his lips, as the true war started.

-----O-----

But Ravan still sat on his throne, teeth clenched tightly as his army ran out. He could not decide who to send out, for many of his warriors still vied for the privilege of fighting for him. Some stood up, some prostrated themselves at his feet. Others folded their arms tightly so as to show off their bulging muscles. His head swam with images, ones of his warriors, both lost and alive. His head swam with the image of the headless Trishira, the Atikaya with a large hole burned into his back. Kumbhakaran, limbless and head hanging on the spiked dome above his head.

Suddenly, a loud bang reached his ears, and he looked up, straining his neck as he did so, and wincing. As the King of Lanka stared at his court, his eyes met the ones of Kumbhakaran. But they were not, they could not have been, because his brother was dead. These eyes were the ones of Kumbha (see the resemblance, guys? TELL ME YOU-). Kumbha had stood up, and his foot had been planted deep into a hole. He had slammed his foot and penetrated the golden floors.

Behind him was his brother, Nikumbha (No, because I thought that was his aging grandfather. Or a random messenger.), also seething (guys, no, he was laughing). "Our father is dead!" he barked, hands clenched into fists. "Our father is dead fighting for your cause, chacha, and you expect us to just sit by as these, these, these, irrelevents-" he gestured around himself. "Think that they can go! Let us go, chacha! Let us teach these hermits a lesson!"

Before Ravan could respond, Kumbha had spoken up as well. "Our father was disrespected by this pair of hermits and their army of hooligans! Let us storm the battlefield, chacha, and then we shall see how they fare!" Ravan twirled a finger around his curled and oiled mustache and exhaled.

"There can be no one else but you two." he declared. "But, the army shall also include three of my warriors-" And Ravan, not caring to take names, just gestured to three rakshasas in the court, hastily waving his hand for them to leave. Waving his clothes, Kumbha left with a bow, followed closely by the towering Nikumbha, whose mouth was curved into a vengeful snarl.

Ravan was left with a court of demons and rakshasas, all shifting around in their seats, glancing uneasily at each other. Ravan closed his eyes shut for a second, just to blink, and immediately, they snapped open as if they couldn't do so fast enough, bulging, sticking out of his socket like some alien. He suddenly stood up, stumbling around before he secured a deathly grip on the side of his throne.

As if something had shaken him to the very core, reached into his open body and clenched its clawed hand around his heart, squeezing hard and drawing as much blood as possible, and his lips trembled. With another finger, all his courtiers were dismissed, and they shuffled out of the throne room confusedly. Soon, it was just him, standing in his empty courtroom, studying the thrones carefully.

He plopped down helplessly, his crown shaking, and hid his face in his hands, his entire body wracked with shudders, twitching as if disturbed or electrocuted, as if he had been dipped into an icy cold pool. A chill ran down his spine and he spasmed. He had to escape, he had to escape this loophole. He shivered, and his shoulders trembled, his fingers bending as if controlled by something other than his body. 

All he could find, in any crevice of his mind, was the face of Sita, perfect and untouched, delicate as a porcelain doll. "Your end is near, Ravan." she hissed, and he tried to open his mouth and tell her that it was not.

But his entire body was still even though it quivered. He tried to open his mouth again, and Sita's face swam in his conscience. Suddenly, it cracked, little black branches spreading throughout her face as if glass had just fallen on the ground and fragmented, and he found himself staring into her pitch black eyes as her mouth curved up into a soft smile. 

"Your end is near, Ravan." she whispered in that haunting, magnetic voice of hers. Ravan found himself staring into the endless depths of her eyes, and whimpering, cowered from her. 

A/N-I have reached 150 freaking chapters. What the heck. First of all, Maharani Chandralekha was correct, and we applaud her. And second of all, I'm starting to freak. What if this is over 200 chapters. Because, haha, we just reached 150, and we'll at least do 175, right? SO-

Okay, anyways, we'll stop worrying about that, and just celebrate! Yay! YAYYY!!!Okay, that's about it, lol. I don't really have anything else to say. I'll conduct a Weaving a Yarn, because the blessed mythooolover has given her permission, soooo-

😁