The forest had grown quiet again.
Too quiet.
After the battle—
Even the wind seemed to move with caution, brushing past leaves as if afraid to disturb the stillness that had settled.
It was not a peaceful silence.
It was the kind that followed violence.
As if the forest itself had witnessed something it could not fully understand… and had chosen to remain still.
Beneath a tall, ancient tree—
Karna sat motionless.
His back leaned slightly against the rough bark, its uneven surface pressing into his skin.
His eyes were closed.
But this was not rest.
It was recovery.
Pain lingered in every part of his body.
Not sharp enough to make him cry out—
But deep enough to remind him of every moment of the battle.
His arms felt heavy, weighed down by the repeated impacts they had endured.
His chest tightened with each breath, as if the air itself resisted entering his lungs.
Even holding still—
Was not easy.
Yet—
Slowly—
His breathing began to stabilize.
Inhale.
Deep.
