Karna looked at him calmly.
"Do not worry. No one knows about it."
Bhima frowned.
"What are you talking about?"
"Bring your brothers and your mother with you to the Mallikarjuna Swamy Temple at dawn. We will talk there."
Bhima's eyes narrowed.
"And your identity?"
Karna did not answer directly.
"Your mother knows."
Bhima stared at him.
The stranger's calmness irritated him. There was no fear in his expression, no hesitation, no attempt to explain himself. He had simply walked into their hiding place, called him Panduputra and told him to bring his family to a temple at dawn.
Before Bhima could ask anything else, Karna turned around.
He walked away.
Bhima remained where he was, staring at his back. His fists slowly clenched.
'Who is this man?'
He looked toward the house.
'Who does he serve?'
There were too many questions and not a single answer. Yet one thing was clear. Whoever this man was, he knew something about them. Perhaps everything.
Bhima's jaw tightened.
'Regardless, I need to talk to Mother.'
Karna returned to the front of the house.
Kunti was still standing there.
She looked at him as he approached, and this time there was no attempt to hide the fear in her face. Her lips trembled slightly.
"Son..."
Karna did not allow her to continue.
"Tomorrow at dawn. Mallikarjuna Swamy Temple."
Kunti fell silent.
"Let us talk there, Devi. I have already told your son about it, though I highly doubt he is the type to listen simply because someone tells him to."
There was the faintest trace of dry humor in his voice, but his expression remained serious.
"I am telling you as well. Come there with your sons. I have a few things to ask all of you."
Kunti stared at him.
Karna held her gaze.
"Only after that will I decide whether to disclose the truth or not."
The words struck her harder than anything else he had said.
He knew.
Perhaps not everything yet. But enough.
Enough to force them out of hiding.
Karna did not wait for her answer. He simply turned around and began walking down the street, leaving Kunti standing at the doorway with the decision in her hands.
She watched him disappear among the people of Kampilya.
For the rest of the day, Karna behaved as though nothing unusual had happened.
He did not allow the encounter at the potter's house to alter his expression or his movements, nor did he give anyone around him a reason to suspect that he had discovered something important.
He spent a good part of the afternoon with Subhadra, listening to her speak about the preparations for the Swayamvara and occasionally answering her questions about the various kings who had arrived in Kampilya.
Later, he spoke with Indraverma and several of the visiting rulers, discussing matters that had little connection with what was occupying his mind.
To anyone watching him, he was simply Maharaj Karna, moving through the city and attending to the affairs surrounding the great ceremony.
But beneath that calm exterior, one thought kept returning. 'The Pandavas are here. Why?' Karna did not know what Kunti intended to do, but he had given her until dawn to decide. He would not force her before then. Whatever happened next had to be their choice.
At the potter's house, however, the atmosphere was very different.
Once night had settled over Kampilya, and the sounds of the city had gradually quieted, Kunti and her five sons gathered together in the small room they had been using.
The oil lamp between them gave only a modest amount of light, leaving parts of the room in shadow.
For several moments nobody spoke.
The discovery that they had feared for months had finally happened, and worse, it had happened to a man who was powerful enough to change everything with a single decision.
Nakula was the first to break the silence.
"We must leave tonight, Mother." His voice was low but firm. "Before dawn comes."
Yudhishthira looked at him and shook his head. "We cannot. At least not without taking permission from Yogesham Mahodaya."
Nakula frowned, but Yudhishthira continued before he could argue. "We have been living in his shelter. He gave us a place when we needed one. Leaving without even informing him would not be right."
There was no hesitation in his words. Whatever else they were facing, Yudhishthira would not allow fear to make them abandon the basic obligation of gratitude.
Arjuna had remained silent until then. He finally looked at Nakula and said, "That is not the problem."
Everyone turned toward him.
"If Karna has already discovered us, then there is no point in running away." Nakula opened his mouth, but Arjuna continued. "We never planned to remain hidden forever. This was always supposed to be temporary. We were waiting until things settled down in Hastinapur, until Duryodhana was no longer prepared to make another attempt against us."
His eyes lowered for a moment. "We cannot keep wandering forever simply because we are afraid someone might discover us."
There was a quiet bitterness in the words. They had spent so long living as people they were not, wearing the clothes of Brahmins, collecting alms and sleeping in a potter's house, that sometimes Arjuna himself wondered how long they could continue. Their survival had required silence, but silence had never been their final destination.
Kunti listened to all of them without interrupting.
Her sons looked toward one another, each carrying his own uncertainty, and for several moments she simply watched them.
These were her children, yet they had been forced to live like fugitives because of circumstances none of them had created. She had spent months making decisions for them because someone had to.
Now Karna had placed another decision before her, and this one could not be avoided by simply walking into another forest. Kunti took a deep breath. Her shoulders rose slowly and fell again. "I have made a decision."
The five brothers looked toward her.
She did not explain it immediately.
There was no need to. By the time dawn came, they would know.
The following morning, Karna completed his Suryagraha before making his way toward the Mallikarjuna Swamy Temple. It was still very early. The eastern sky had only begun to brighten, and the coolness of the night had not yet completely left the stone pathways surrounding the temple.
A few ascetics were already present, sitting quietly in meditation or tending small sacred fires, but otherwise the temple premises were almost empty.
There were no crowds, no merchants, no visitors from the royal camps. It was precisely why Karna had chosen this hour. Whatever conversation took place here would not easily become the subject of gossip.
He walked past the main shrine and found a secluded place where he could wait without being disturbed. He sat down, closed his eyes, and began to meditate.
He had told Kunti to come at dawn, but he had not expected her to arrive the moment the sun rose. People needed time to make decisions. He had no desire to sit impatiently and watch the temple entrance every few moments. Instead, he decided to wait for half a prahar, roughly ninety minutes. If they did not come, he would leave.
The temple remained quiet.
For some time, Karna's mind settled into meditation. The sound of a distant bell occasionally reached him, followed by the crackle of one of the ascetics' fires. Somewhere nearby, a bird called once and then became silent. The cool stone beneath him remained firm and steady. Karna waited.
Fortunately, he did not have to wait for the entire ninety minutes.
After some time, six figures appeared at the far entrance of the temple premises.
Arjuna noticed him first.
His heightened vision, gained through the knowledge taught to him by the Gandharvas, allowed him to distinguish details from a considerable distance. Even before the others could clearly see the man sitting in the secluded part of the temple, Arjuna recognized him.
"There, Mother."
He pointed toward Karna.