Darkness swallowed the cavern whole, a vast hollow carved into the earth beneath Hastinapura's hills. Torchlight flickered on wet stone walls, casting jagged shadows that danced like restless spirits. The air was cold and damp, heavy with the scent of moss and minerals, and every sound bounced wildly, a chorus of echoes weaving through the stillness. Water dripped somewhere deep within, a faint plink-plink that twisted into a dozen ghostly repeats. The cavern stretched wide and high, its ceiling lost in shadow, a labyrinth of sound and stone waiting to test the princes' mettle.
Drona stood at the cavern's heart, his lean frame steady in the flickering light, his tattered white robes glowing faintly against the dark. His gray hair was tied back, and his dark eyes gleamed with a stern, focused intensity as he faced the Kuru princes. In one hand, he held his staff, its tip resting on the slick floor; in the other, he clutched a handful of small pebbles, smooth and gray. The princes gathered around him, their tunics brushing the damp walls, their breaths puffing in the chill as they squinted into the gloom.
Bhima rocked on his heels, his massive frame filling the space, his broad grin flashing despite the dark. "A cave today, guru?" he said, his voice booming off the walls, bouncing back in a dozen loud echoes that made him laugh. "Ha! Listen to that! This place talks back! What's the plan? Smashing rocks?"
Drona tilted his head, his expression calm but unyielding, his voice cutting through the echoes with steady force. "No smashing, Bhima," he said, his tone deep and firm, silencing the cavern for a moment. "Today's about hearing. You'll shoot blindfolded, guided by sound alone. I'll toss these pebbles." He held up the handful, their surfaces glinting in the torchlight. "Listen for the echoes. Hit the targets they mark."
Bhima's grin faltered, his brows shooting up as he scratched his head. "Blindfolded?" he said, his tone a mix of surprise and amusement, his laugh rumbling again. "That's a new one! I'll hit something, guru, but it might be a wall!"
"Try for the targets," Drona replied, his voice dry and patient, handing out strips of black cloth. "Tie these on. Focus."
Arjuna stepped closer, his lean form quiet and composed, his sandals silent on the stone. His tunic was damp from the cavern's mist, his bow slung over his shoulder, and his dark eyes locked on Drona with a steady trust. "Sound instead of sight," he said, his voice soft but eager, taking a blindfold. "I like this, guru. How many targets?"
"Five," Drona said, his gaze settling on Arjuna with a flicker of warmth. "Wooden discs, hung high. Listen hard. The echoes will trick you."
Yudhishthira moved up beside him, his neat tunic clinging slightly as he took a blindfold, his face warm with curiosity. "Tricky echoes, huh?" he said, his voice gentle and thoughtful, tying the cloth with careful fingers. "This'll take some figuring out. Where do we start?"
"Spread out," Drona answered, planting his staff with a soft thud that echoed sharply. "Feel the cavern. Wait for my toss."
Duryodhana grabbed a blindfold, his chin lifting as he tied it tight, his dark hair slick with damp. "This is madness," he said, his voice low and edged with a grumble, his brow furrowing. "Shooting blind? I'll hit more stone than wood."
"Then sharpen your ears," Drona replied, his tone stern and sharp, meeting Duryodhana's scowl through the cloth. "Skill, not sight. Begin."
Ashwatthama slipped forward, his wild hair catching the torchlight, his eyes bright with a fierce gleam as he took a blindfold. "I'll match anyone here," he said, his voice low and eager, tying it fast. "Let's see who hears best, Father."
"Good," Drona said, his pride clear as he nodded at his son. "Show me."
The princes fanned out, their footsteps echoing as they tied their blindfolds, the cavern plunging them into black. Bhima shuffled loudly, his massive hands fumbling with his bow as he nocked an arrow. "Right, here we go!" he said, his voice loud and cheerful, bouncing off the walls in a chaotic roar. "Toss one, guru! I'm ready!"
Drona flicked a pebble high, its clack against a wooden disc ringing out, the sound twisting into a dozen echoes that overlapped and danced. Bhima drew his bow, his muscles bulging, and loosed an arrow with a grunt. It whistled through the air, thudding into a wall with a dull crack, and he laughed, shaking his head. "Missed!" he said, his tone bright despite the failure. "That echo's a liar! Toss another!"
"Listen, don't guess," Drona called, his voice steady and firm, flicking a second pebble. The clack rang again, sharper this time, bouncing wild.
Bhima fired once more, his arrow sailing wide, smashing into stone with a loud crunch. "Ha!" he said, his frustration loud and raw, echoing louder than his shots. "This is harder than wrestling a boar blind! I'm hitting everything but the target!"
"Quiet your noise," Drona said, stepping closer, his staff tapping. "The cavern's loud enough. Hear past yourself."
"Past myself?" Bhima said, chuckling as he nocked another arrow. "All I hear's me! I'll get it, though!" He fired again, missing wildly, his laugh rumbling on.
Arjuna stood still, his bow drawn, his blindfold tight as he tilted his head. The next pebble clacked, its echo swirling, and he listened intently, his breath slow and even. "There," he murmured, his voice barely audible, loosing his shot. The arrow cut through the dark, striking the disc with a sharp thud, and he smiled faintly, nocking another. "One," he said, his tone soft and calm, waiting for the next toss.
Drona's voice carried over, warm with approval. "Good, Arjuna," he said, flicking another pebble. "Keep it up."
Yudhishthira shifted nearby, his bow steady, his brow furrowed beneath the blindfold as he turned his head. "Angles," he said, his voice gentle and low, speaking to himself. "The sound bends off the walls. Got to measure it." The pebble clacked again, its echo twisting, and he adjusted his aim, loosing an arrow. It thudded into a disc's edge, a quiet triumph, and he nodded, pleased. "Got it," he said, his tone warm and steady, readying another shot.
Ashwatthama moved like a shadow, his wild hair swaying as he drew his bow, his blindfold snug. The next pebble rang out, and he fired fast, his arrow striking a disc dead center with a loud crack. "One," he said, his voice low and fierce, nocking again. "I'm not stopping there."
"Strong shot," Drona said, his tone firm and proud, tossing another pebble. "Push it, Ashwatthama."
Duryodhana stood stiffly, his bow creaking as he drew it, his jaw clenched beneath the blindfold. "This is impossible," he muttered, his voice a growl, barely audible over the echoes. The pebble clacked, and he fired, his arrow thudding into stone. "Useless," he said, his tone sharp and bitter, drawing again as the next toss rang out. His second shot grazed a disc, a near miss, and he scowled, lowering his bow. "Close enough," he said, his voice low and grudging.
"Close isn't enough," Drona replied, his tone stern and unyielding, stepping toward him. "Hit it square, Duryodhana."
The cavern pulsed with their efforts, the air thick with echoes—Bhima's loud misses, Arjuna's silent strikes, Yudhishthira's careful hits, Ashwatthama's fierce shots, Duryodhana's grumbled tries. Bhima lumbered back toward Drona, his blindfold slipping as he laughed. "Nothing yet, guru!" he said, his voice booming and cheerful, shaking out his arm. "But I've hit every wall! Does that count?"
"No," Drona said, his tone dry but kind, adjusting Bhima's blindfold. "Targets, Bhima. Focus."
"Focus?" Bhima said, grinning as he drew his bow again. "I'm focused on not tripping! Toss one more!" The pebble clacked, and his arrow sailed wide, crashing into stone with a loud thud. "Ha! This cave hates me!"
Arjuna struck two more discs, his arrows whistling through the dark, his focus unshaken. "Three," he said, his voice soft and steady, stepping closer to Drona. "The echoes are clearer now."
"Clearer?" Drona said, his eyes gleaming in the torchlight, his voice warm with pride. "You're turning sound into sight, Arjuna. Two left."
Yudhishthira hit another, his shot methodical, his blindfold snug as he smiled faintly. "Two," he said, his voice gentle and pleased, rubbing his fingers. "It's like solving a puzzle."
"A good puzzle," Drona replied, his tone warm and approving, nodding at him. "You're thinking it through."
Ashwatthama fired again, his arrow striking a fourth disc with a sharp crack, his breath quickening. "Four," he said, his voice low and fierce, turning toward Arjuna's direction. "I'm right behind you."
"Close," Arjuna said, his tone calm and teasing, nocking another arrow. "Let's see who gets five."
The torches flickered low, their light wavering as the trial stretched on, the cavern a maze of sound and shadow. Bhima flopped against a wall, his blindfold off, his laugh echoing as he shook his head. "Zero for me!" he said, his voice loud and unbothered, wiping sweat from his brow. "But I've made this place sing! That's something!"
"Sing's not the goal," Drona said, his tone patient and amused, gesturing him to stand. "Hits are. Watch now."
Duryodhana trudged up, his blindfold loose, his scowl deep. "One graze," he said, his voice low and sharp, kicking at the stone floor. "This is a waste."
"Grazes don't win," Drona replied, his tone stern and firm, pointing him back. "Try again."
Arjuna loosed his final shot, the arrow striking the fifth disc with a clean thud, and he pulled off his blindfold, his breath steady. "Five, guru," he said, his voice soft and sure, his eyes bright with triumph.
Drona stepped forward, his staff tapping once, his voice ringing clear. "Enough," he said, his tone warm and final, the echoes fading. "Arjuna, five. Ashwatthama, four. Yudhishthira, two. Duryodhana, one graze. Bhima, none."
Bhima laughed, sprawling on the stone, his chest heaving. "None's my score!" he said, his voice loud and cheerful. "But I've got the loudest echo! That's a prize, right?"
"Loud's not a prize," Drona said, his tone dry but fond, shaking his head. "Skill is. You'll learn."
Arjuna set his bow down, his smile warm and quiet. "It felt right, guru," he said, his voice soft and honest. "The sound showed me."
"It did," Drona replied, his pride clear, clapping Arjuna's shoulder. "You've mastered it."
Ashwatthama pulled off his blindfold, his wild hair damp, his tone low and fierce. "Four's good," he said, his eyes flicking to Arjuna. "But five's better. Next time."
"Next time," Arjuna agreed, his voice calm and friendly, a spark of challenge in his smile.
Yudhishthira untied his blindfold, his expression warm and thoughtful. "Two's not bad," he said, his voice gentle and steady. "I'll get the angles sharper."
"You will," Drona said, his tone kind and approving, nodding at him. "You're close."
Duryodhana yanked his blindfold off, his scowl dark, his voice low and sharp. "One graze," he said, glaring at the cavern walls. "This was rigged."
"Rigged by your ears," Drona replied, his tone stern and unyielding, meeting Duryodhana's glare. "Train them."