Padmavati Ending -

She placed a kiss on his forehead, tasting iron and sandalwood. Then she rose. Behind her, the palace of Chittor was no longer a home; it was a kiln, prepared for a final, terrible firing. The jauhar had begun.

Then, one soldier pointed. From the vents of the subterranean chambers, a column of smoke rose, thick and black, carrying with it a single, impossible thing: the scent of burning sandalwood and a sweetness like crushed roses.

Khalji dismounted. He walked to the vent, his face a mask of confusion that slowly curdled into rage, and then into a chilling, hollow awe. He understood. He had come to conquer a kingdom. He had come to possess a woman. But what he found was a legend. He could not rape fire. He could not enslave ash. padmavati ending

He tried to raise a hand to her cheek, but it fell. “You promised me… you would not be taken.”

The sun bled through the smoke, a crimson coin slipping behind the ramparts of Chittor. Ratan Singh, his chest a ruin of Saracen steel, lay cradled in the lap of his Queen. His eyes, once fierce as a falcon’s, were soft now, seeing a horizon beyond the siege. She placed a kiss on his forehead, tasting

“He waits for us,” Padmavati replied.

She had walked through the fire, and in doing so, she had made herself immortal. He would live as a footnote in her story. And the fire would sing her name for a thousand years. The jauhar had begun

“You are late,” he said.