Several months later, at Dakshina Kalinga;
Karna had been walking back and forth through the corridor for hours, his steps steady but restless, his expression growing more strained with every passing moment.
Dushala had gone into labour more than twenty-four hours earlier, and still there had been no news from the room.
He knew that a first delivery could be difficult and that there was no reason to assume something had gone wrong merely because it was taking longer than expected, yet knowing that did little to calm him.
His other queens had not taken nearly this long during their deliveries.
He tried repeatedly to convince himself that every birth was different, that Dushala's situation could simply require more time, but every time the doors remained closed and no one emerged, the same thought returned.
'Why is it taking so long?' He had faced armies without hesitation, stood before Asuras and fought beings capable of destroying kingdoms, yet there was something about waiting outside a room while his queen struggled that made him feel utterly powerless. There was no enemy to strike, no weapon that could solve the problem, no divine astra he could unleash to make the pain disappear. All he could do was wait.
The hours dragged on.
Karna eventually stopped near the entrance and looked toward the closed doors again.
Subhadra had gone inside earlier along with the attendants and midwives, and Karna had already asked several times whether there was any problem.
Every answer had been the same.
Dushala was enduring the labour, and they needed more time.
Karna nodded each time, forcing himself to accept it, but the tension never truly left him.
He rubbed his hands together once and then clasped them behind his back, staring at the floor for a few moments before beginning to walk again. He did not even realize how many times he had crossed the same stretch of corridor.
Then, after nearly thirty-one hours, a cry pierced through the palace.
It was Dushala.
Karna stopped instantly.
For one terrifying second, there was silence.
Then came another sound.
A baby's cry.
Karna's entire expression changed.
The doors opened, and Subhadra emerged carrying a small bundle wrapped carefully in a blanket. There was a tired smile upon her face, but also something bright in her eyes as she approached him. "Karna," she said softly, "it is a baby girl."
Karna stared at the bundle.
He had expected relief. Perhaps happiness. Perhaps the simple overwhelming joy that came whenever a child was born into his family.
Instead, he felt something entirely different.
He was taken aback.
The moment Subhadra brought the baby close, Karna looked down at the tiny face emerging from the blanket, and something within him seemed to stop. He carefully took his daughter into his arms, supporting her small head with one hand while the other held her close against his chest.
Then the atmosphere changed.
Karna looked up.
From somewhere beyond the palace came music.
Not the music of human musicians.
The melody was delicate and unfamiliar, carrying a quality that immediately awakened something within Karna's divine senses.
It was followed by the sound of drums, distant at first and then growing clearer, as though some unseen celebration had suddenly begun around the palace. Before anyone could understand what was happening, flowers began falling from above.
Karna instinctively looked upward.
Flowers continued to descend.
They landed upon his shoulders, upon the blanket wrapped around the baby and across the floor around his feet.
Subhadra stared upward in disbelief.
There was a ceiling above them.
Yet the flowers continued falling through the space as though the roof simply did not exist.
"Aary..." Subhadra whispered, her voice filled with astonishment. "What is happening? Who is showering these flowers? And this music... these drums... what is going on?"
Karna did not answer immediately.
His eyes remained fixed upon his daughter.
Then recognition came.
"I recognize the music."
Subhadra looked at him.
"Gandharvas," Karna murmured slowly. "And these flowers... this is a blessing from the Devas."
He looked down at the baby again.
"But why?"
His brow furrowed.
"This isn't my first child."
That was what troubled him.
He had children already. He had watched his other sons and daughters being born. He had prayed for them, blessed them, and asked the Devas to protect them, yet nothing like this had happened before. No celestial music had filled the palace. No divine flowers had fallen from the heavens. No unusual presence had announced their births.
So why now?
The answer came not through words, but through Kanipura itself.
Outside the palace, people began noticing something strange.
Flowers started blooming.
Not according to the season. Not according to the natural rhythm of the plants. Buds that should have remained closed suddenly opened, spreading colour throughout gardens and courtyards. Plants that normally did not blossom during that time of year began producing flowers. New shoots pushed their way through the soil in places where nothing had been planted.
The change spread throughout the city.
Animals reacted to it as well. Horses began neighing excitedly within the royal stables. Elephants raised their trunks and trumpeted, their calls echoing through the palace grounds. Birds became unusually active, filling the air with sound. People stepped outside their homes and stared at the sudden transformation around them, unable to understand why nature itself appeared to be celebrating something.
Inside the palace, the astonishment was no different.
A personal attendant hurried toward Karna.
"Maharaj!"
Karna turned.
"There is something happening outside. The entire city... the plants are blooming everywhere. Even the animals are behaving strangely."
Karna did not ask for further explanation.
He already knew that whatever had begun within the palace had reached beyond it.
Still holding the baby securely in his arms, he walked toward the balcony.
When he stepped outside, the sight before him made him pause.
Kanipura looked different.
Flowers covered the gardens, trees that should have been bare were suddenly filled with blossoms, and even the distant streets seemed brighter beneath the unusual display of nature. The sounds of animals carried across the city, mixed with the distant celestial music that had not yet disappeared.
Karna looked down at the child in his arms.
'My daughter is blessed. She is indeed born for some divine purpose.'
He did not know what that purpose was.
That uncertainty bothered him.
And he did not want to look at his daughter merely as the instrument of some divine plan.
She was his child.
That should have been enough.
Karna stepped closer to the balcony's edge and lifted the baby slightly toward the morning Sun.
"Father," he said quietly, looking toward the heavens, "bless my daughter."
A blinding flash of light suddenly filled the balcony.
Karna's eyes widened.
He recognized that presence immediately.
When the light faded, Lord Suryadev stood before him.
For several moments, Karna simply stared.
It had been years since he had last seen his father manifest personally before him. Karna had invoked his blessings countless times, and Suryadev's divine presence had guided him throughout his life, but this was different. He had asked his father before to bless his children. Yet never before had Suryadev himself appeared merely to personally offer that blessing.
Karna immediately bowed his head.
"Father."
Suryadev raised his palm.
"May auspiciousness be upon you, my son."
Karna straightened.
Suryadev's gaze then moved toward the small child in Karna's arms. His expression softened as he looked at her.
"Today, my clan is blessed to have such a divine being born to you."
Karna looked at his daughter again.
"I sensed that this child was special the moment I saw the Devas bless her. But what is this child's destiny that makes you speak those words, Father?"