"If you are not going to strike down your great-grandfather, then I will enter the war myself and kill him."
The words were loud, yet they carried a weight that crushed the air.
"Do you not see?" the voice continued. "He has already killed thousands."
The battlefield had lost its original color.The soil had turned dark red, soaked with the blood of warriors. Thousands had fallen, yet the war showed no sign of ending. Corpses lay scattered everywhere—some broken, some still gripping their weapons.
Death was no longer distant. It surrounded them.
"How can I kill my own great-grandfather?" came the reply, trembling despite the effort to stay steady. "He played with me when I was a child. He watched me grow."
A brief silence followed.
"But now, he is fighting against you in this war."
"In this entire universe, there is nothing that I cannot do. I am time. I am truth. I am dharma. I am The God. And yet, I stand on this battlefield to perform karma."
"All hail the King!"
The voice echoed through the grand hall.
An old man with a long, flowing beard sat below the elevated throne, his posture humble yet dignified. His eyes held the calm of someone who had seen countless kings rise and fall.
He spoke again, his voice steady and clear.
"Today, the borders of Hastinapur stretch from the Himalayas to the vast Indian Ocean. Aryavarta is no longer merely Aryavarta—it is now known as Bharatavarsha. Your Majesty, the time has come to declare the prince."
Upon the throne sat King Bharata.
A golden crown adorned with diamonds rested upon his head, its weight unnoticed by the man who bore the weight of an empire. Heavy golden ornaments hung around his neck, shimmering under the torchlight. His thick moustache framed a stern face, softened slightly by a short beard. His eyes were deep, carrying both authority and restraint.
King Bharata spoke in a low, commanding voice.
"The declaration shall be made during the Chandravarshi full moon ceremony."
Without another word, he rose and left the hall.
As he walked through the palace corridors, he encountered his mother, Shakuntala.
Her presence was calm, her smile gentle, unchanged by time or power.
"I have heard that you are leaving," she said softly.
"Yes, Mother," Bharata replied. "I have returned from war, and I wish to visit my maternal grandfather."
After bowing respectfully, the king departed.
His grandfather lived far from the noise of the palace.
The old sage sat beneath a tree, silent and unmoving—like a part of nature itself.
"Come, Shakuntala's son," the sage said, without opening his eyes.
Bharata bowed deeply. "Greetings, Grandfather."
"May you live long," the sage replied. "How is Shakuntala?"
"She is well."
The sage paused, then spoke again.
"Now ask what you have truly come to ask."
"I am the father of nine sons," Bharata said. "Whom should I make the prince of this kingdom?"
"This question shows that the king who has conquered the earth has not yet conquered himself," the sage replied calmly. "Go. Conquer yourself. The answer will reveal itself."
He placed his hand upon Bharata's head.
"My blessings are with you, my son."
The night of the Chandravarshi full moon ceremony arrived.
The moon hung complete in the sky, bathing Hastinapur in pale silver light.
"Attention! Attention!"
A soldier's voice rang through the palace halls.
"The great King of Hastinapur, Emperor of Emperors—King Bharata—is arriving!"
The massive doors of the royal hall opened.
The massive doors of the royal hall slowly closed behind King Bharata.
Silence followed.
The nobles, ministers, warriors, sages, and clan elders stood in orderly rows. The air felt heavy, as though even breath had become cautious. Every man present understood the importance of this moment. The fate of Bharatavarsha would be decided not by war, but by a single name.
King Bharata seated himself upon the throne.
His gaze moved across the hall—faces filled with expectation, ambition, calculation, and restraint. Some hoped. Some feared. Some merely waited.
He raised his hand.
The Prime Minister stepped forward, holding the scroll tightly, as though afraid its words might escape before being spoken.
"By the will of the Emperor," the minister announced, his voice echoing across the hall, "and under the witness of the Chandravarshi full moon ceremony, the future of Hastinapur shall now be declared."
The scroll was unrolled.