"Before the lion roared… the heavens trembled."
The rain hadn't stopped for seven nights.
Lightning clawed the mountains like a beast trying to break free.
And on the seventh night — as the moon hid behind black clouds — Shivneri Fort came under siege.
The enemy banners of Adil Shah's soldiers glimmered at the foothills, their torches crawling up the slopes like a river of fire.
Inside the fort, drums of alarm echoed off the stone walls.
Commander Bajirao Kendre stormed through the courtyard, his armor drenched, his face hard with fear and fury.
"Hold the gates! Reinforce the ramparts!"
"Don't let them reach the temple!"
His men moved like shadows in the rain.
But deep within the fort, in a quiet chamber lit by a single flame, Jijabai was in labor.
The cries of war outside mixed with her own pain.
Every thunderclap sounded like the world testing her resolve.
At her side, the midwives trembled.
"Aai Sahib… the enemy is at the walls!" one whispered.
"If they breach—"
"They won't," Jijabai said through clenched teeth.
"Not while Bhavani watches."
"They say gods descend to witness certain births.
That night, even the storm paused to listen."
Outside, Commander Bajirao Kendre drew his sword.
The men around him were tired, bleeding, and outnumbered three to one.
He shouted above the wind:
"For the Marathas! For the soil that bore us!"
They clashed with the enemy at the gate — steel ringing against steel, thunder answering each strike.
A single torch fell, setting the rain-soaked banners ablaze, turning the scene into a battlefield of fire and shadows.
Bajirao cut down one soldier after another, but a blade pierced his shoulder.
He staggered, blood mixing with the rain, eyes turning toward the keep where Jijabai was.
"Hold… until dawn," he gasped.
"Hold till the lion cries."
Inside, Jijabai's breath came in sharp bursts.
The midwives shouted prayers. The flame flickered — nearly dying.
Then… the wind stopped.
For a moment, all of Shivneri fell silent.
A golden light filled the room.
The clouds parted, and a single beam of moonlight broke through, falling upon Jijabai and the newborn child in her arms.
Her tears glistened as she whispered,
"My son… my Shivaji."
The thunder returned — not from the sky, but from the earth itself.
A roar, deep and unending, rolled through the mountains.
Outside the walls, the enemy hesitated, fear gripping their hearts.
Some swore they saw a figure of light standing atop the fort — sword raised, wrapped in fire.
By dawn, the siege had broken.
The enemy fled.
And Bajirao Kendre, wounded but alive, fell to his knees in the courtyard.
"A child is born," he whispered. "And the empire has begun to shake."
"He did not come into a world of peace.
He came into a world of chains — and he was born to break them."
"That was the night the lion first breathed…
and the mountains learned his name."
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