Rudhira: Blood for Blood

Bhima drinks enemy's blood

The blood has been drunk. Now comes the reckoning. As both armies process the horror of what Bhima did to Duhshasana, the war transforms into something more primal. Rules fall away. Restraint disappears. In the wake of blood drunk and vows fulfilled, Kurukshetra becomes what it always threatened to become: a place where civilization goes to die.

The Morning After Blood

The eighteenth dawn rose over Kurukshetra.

In the Pandava camp, Bhima had finally bathed. The dried blood of Duhshasana had required scrubbing, it had caked into his skin, under his nails, into the creases of his hands.

Thirteen years I carried that vow. One moment to fulfill it. And now...

He looked at his hands, clean now, but somehow still stained. He could still taste the iron on his tongue.

Yudhishthira found him sitting alone, staring at his palms.

"Brother," the eldest Pandava said carefully, "how do you feel?"

"Empty." Bhima's voice was hollow. "I thought it would feel like victory. Like justice. Instead, it feels like..."

"Like what?"

"Like I've become what they always said I was. A beast. A monster." Bhima finally looked up. "Did you see their faces, Yudhishthira? Our brothers. Arjuna. Nakula. Sahadeva. They looked at me like I was something from a nightmare."

"They were shocked, "

"They were afraid." Bhima stood, his massive frame somehow diminished. "My own brothers were afraid of me. And you know what the worst part is? They should be."

The Kaurava Camp

Across the battlefield, the mood was one of barely contained panic.

Duryodhana had not slept. He had paced through the night, surrounded by guards, starting at every sound. Duhshasana's death had shattered something in him, not grief, exactly, but the certainty that he would somehow survive.

Bhima tore him apart with his bare hands. My brother. My loyal, stupid, cruel brother.

"How many are left?" he demanded of Shakuni.

"Of your brothers? Twenty-three survived yesterday's battle." Shakuni's voice was careful. "But the men are terrified. They've heard what Bhima did. They're calling him 'Rakshas', demon."

"He IS a demon!"

"Perhaps. But demons can be killed." Shakuni leaned closer. "Today is the last day, nephew. Win or die. There is no retreat, no negotiation, no surrender that the Pandavas will accept."