Twilight settled over a meadow near Hastinapura, the sky a deep violet streaked with fading gold as stars began to prick through the dusk. Fireflies danced in the air, their tiny lights winking like scattered jewels, casting a soft glow over the swaying grasses. The meadow stretched wide and open, its edges blurring into a fringe of trees, their branches whispering in a gentle breeze. The air was cool and sweet, tinged with the scent of wildflowers and earth, a dreamlike haze wrapping the scene in quiet mystery, ready to challenge the princes' wits.
Drona stood at the meadow's center, his lean frame silhouetted against the twilight, his tattered white robes shimmering faintly with the fireflies' light. His gray hair was tied back, and his dark eyes gleamed with a sage-like intensity as he faced the Kuru princes. In one hand, he held his staff, its tip planted firm in the soft soil; the other raised slowly, fingers tracing the air as a faint hum of power stirred. The princes gathered around him, their tunics dusted with the day's sweat, their bows in hand as they squinted into the glowing dusk.
Bhima rocked on his feet, his massive frame rustling the grass, his broad grin flashing wide as he slapped his bow against his palm. "A meadow tonight, guru?" he said, his voice booming over the quiet, startling a cluster of fireflies into a frantic swirl. "This is a change! No rivers, no caves. What's up? Smashing something shiny?"
Drona lowered his hand, his expression calm but unyielding, his voice weaving through the twilight with steady force. "No smashing, Bhima," he said, his tone deep and firm, hushing the meadow for a moment. "Tonight's about seeing. Or not seeing. I'll conjure targets with maya, illusions. Five will appear, but only one's real. Find it. Hit it. Use your mind, your heart, not just your eyes."
Bhima's grin faltered, his brows shooting up as he scratched his head with a loud laugh. "Illusions?" he said, his tone a mix of confusion and glee, his laugh rumbling again. "That's wild! I'll shoot them all, guru! One's bound to be right!"
"One shot each," Drona replied, his voice dry and patient, pointing at him. "Choose wisely. Start when I call it."
Yudhishthira stepped closer, his neat tunic catching the glow of a firefly as he tilted his head, his face warm with curiosity. "Maya, huh?" he said, his voice gentle and thoughtful, rubbing his chin. "That's clever, guru. How do we tell what's real?"
"Think it through," Drona said, his gaze settling on Yudhishthira with a flicker of approval. "Look for flaws. The truth hides in details."
Arjuna moved up beside him, his lean form quiet and steady, his sandals silent on the grass. His tunic shimmered with dew, his bow ready in his hands, and his dark eyes scanned the meadow with a calm intensity. "Mind and heart," he said, his voice soft but eager, glancing at Drona. "I like this, guru. When do we start?"
"Soon," Drona said, his tone warm and firm, raising his hand again. "Watch close. Feel it."
Duryodhana strode forward, his chin high, his dark hair catching the fireflies' light as he gripped his bow tight. "Illusions?" he said, his voice low and edged with a grumble, his brow furrowing deep. "This is a trick. You're setting us up to fail."
"No trick," Drona replied, his tone stern and sharp, meeting Duryodhana's scowl. "A test. Pass it with skill. Ready yourselves."
The princes spread out, their bows drawn, the meadow humming with the buzz of fireflies and the rustle of grass. Drona lifted his hand higher, his fingers tracing a pattern, and the air shimmered. Five targets flickered into being—wooden discs hovering above the grass, each glowing faintly, their edges blurred in the twilight. They looked identical, drifting slightly, but one cast a shadow on the ground, subtle and faint.
Bhima charged forward, his massive frame shaking the earth, his grin wide as he nocked an arrow. "Here we go!" he shouted, his voice ringing out, scattering fireflies in a golden burst. He aimed at the nearest disc, his muscles bulging, and fired with a grunt. The arrow whistled through the air, passing straight through the illusion, thudding into the grass beyond, and he laughed, shaking his head. "Ha!" he said, his tone bright and unbothered. "Nothing there! That's a good trick, guru!"
"Too quick," Drona called, his voice steady and firm, stepping closer. "Look harder, Bhima. One's real."
"Look harder?" Bhima said, chuckling as he nocked another arrow, spinning around. "They all look the same! I'll pick another!" He fired again, missing once more as the arrow sailed through a phantom, and he flopped onto the grass, laughing loud. "This is mad! I'm shooting ghosts!"
"Ghosts don't win," Drona said, his tone dry but kind, shaking his head. "Sit there. Watch."
Yudhishthira stood still, his bow drawn, his brow furrowed beneath the twilight glow as he studied the targets. "Details," he murmured, his voice gentle and low, speaking to himself. "They shimmer, but one's solid. The shadow." He tilted his head, spotting the faint outline on the grass, and aimed carefully, loosing his shot. The arrow thudded into the real disc, pinning it to the ground, and he smiled faintly, lowering his bow. "Got it," he said, his tone warm and steady, brushing his hands together.
Drona's eyes gleamed, his voice warm with pride as he nodded. "Smart, Yudhishthira," he said, stepping closer. "Logic found it. Well done."
"Thanks," Yudhishthira said, his smile warm and quiet, stepping back. "It was there if you looked."
Arjuna moved like a shadow, his bow steady, his breath slow and even as he watched the discs drift. "Feel it," he murmured, his voice barely audible, closing his eyes for a moment. The air hummed faintly around one target, a whisper of truth, and he opened his eyes, loosing his shot. The arrow struck the same disc Yudhishthira hit, splitting his arrow with a clean crack, and he smiled faintly, turning to Drona. "One," he said, his tone soft and calm, nocking another.
Drona's voice rose, warm with awe as he stepped forward. "One?" he said, his tone lifting slightly, a rare spark in his calm. "Split his shot? That's instinct, Arjuna. Pure and true."
"Felt right," Arjuna said, his smile small but real, glancing at Yudhishthira. "You showed me where."
"Teamwork, then," Yudhishthira said, his voice gentle and teasing, nodding back. "We're good together."
Duryodhana stood stiffly, his bow creaking as he drew it, his jaw clenched tight in the dusk. "This is nonsense," he muttered, his voice a growl, eyeing the targets with suspicion. "They're all fake. He's fooling us." He hesitated, his fingers twitching, and fired at a glowing disc, the arrow passing through with a faint shimmer. "See?" he said, his tone sharp and bitter, lowering his bow. "A waste."
"You missed the chance," Drona replied, his tone stern and steady, stepping toward him. "Doubt lost you, Duryodhana. Look again."
"Look again?" Duryodhana said, his smirk twisting into a scowl, kicking at the grass. "For what? More tricks?"
The meadow pulsed with their efforts, the fireflies swirling as the illusions faded one by one, leaving the single real disc pinned by two arrows. Bhima sprawled on the grass, his chest heaving, his laugh echoing as he waved his bow. "Zero for me!" he said, his voice loud and cheerful, brushing dirt from his tunic. "But I hit the air good! That's something, right?"
"Air's no prize," Drona said, his tone dry but fond, gesturing him up. "Targets are. You'll learn."
Arjuna set his bow down, his breath steady, his smile warm and quiet. "It was strange, guru," he said, his voice soft and honest, glancing at the disc. "But I felt it. Like it called me."
"It did," Drona replied, his pride clear, clapping Arjuna's shoulder. "Your heart heard it."
Yudhishthira brushed grass from his hands, his expression warm and thoughtful. "Logic worked," he said, his voice gentle and steady, nodding at Arjuna. "And your instinct sealed it. We're a pair today."
"A strong pair," Drona said, his tone kind and approving, smiling at them both. "You've passed this."
Duryodhana crossed his arms, his scowl deep, his voice low and sharp. "Nothing," he said, glaring at the disc. "That was rigged. They got lucky."
"Luck?" Drona said, his tone stern and firm, meeting Duryodhana's glare. "Skill and thought, Duryodhana. Not chance. Train your trust."
Bhima sat up, his grin wide as he stretched his arms. "Trust, huh?" he said, his voice loud and teasing, laughing through the dusk. "I trusted my eyes, and they lied! Next time, I'll smash the real one!"
"Smash less, think more," Drona replied, his tone patient and amused, shaking his head. "You'll get there."