June 11th, 1857 – Before DawnJhansi Fort – Eastern Watchtower
The horizon glowed red.
Not from sunlight.
But from torches—thousands of them.
The British forces had arrived in full formation. Muskets. Cannons. Siege towers. War elephants armored in steel.
The rumble of boots echoed like the heartbeat of hell.
Atop the eastern tower, Rani Lakshmibai stood in silence, wind tearing through her crimson sash. Her fingers, gloved in leather, tightened on the cold hilt of her sword.
Behind her, Ghaus Khan, eyes bleary from sleepless nights, spoke without ceremony.
"They've surrounded us from three sides. Reinforcements are still two hours away."
She didn't blink.
"Then we hold for three hours."
Ghaus Khan nodded, but didn't move.
"You know," he said, voice dry, "most kings would flee by now. Take the gold. Ride into exile."
Lakshmibai looked down at the city beneath her, where children slept in temples, and women boiled dry rice for breakfast.
"If I fall," she said, "I want them to remember that I stayed. Until the last scream. Until the last flame."
British Encampment – Command Tent
General Hugh Rose studied the layout of Jhansi on a stretched leather map.
"The southern gate is weak," said Major Ellis, tapping the parchment. "We blast through here with cannons. Infantry follows. Minimal resistance."
Rose lit a cigar with unsettling calm.
"She won't give up the fort," he said. "She'll bury herself in it."
Ellis smirked. "Then we give her the funeral she's waiting for."
Rose looked out toward the fort's silhouette.
"Send in the first volley. Make the earth bleed."
6:01 AM – The First Bombardment
The first cannon roared like thunder—followed by twenty more.
Shells slammed into Jhansi's outer walls, tearing stone like paper. The ground quaked. Bells cracked in temples. The great Durga statue at the east gate lost its arm—but the goddess still stood.
Lakshmibai didn't flinch.
She mounted Badal, her black warhorse, now armored in plates etched with Maratha script. Her face was smeared with ash, lips pressed thin.
She rode down into the training yard, where women lined up in formation—some with rifles, others with spears, most with only grit and sharpened knives.
"I do not ask you to die for me," she said, voice carrying above the screams of mortar.
"I ask you to live so fiercely that the British will curse the day they ever saw Jhansi on a map."
A girl of twelve raised her sword.
"Jai Bhavani!" she cried.
And the cry spread like wildfire.
Inside the City – Chaos and Courage
The British breached the southern gate by mid-morning.
They poured into the lower city like a plague. Bayonets gleaming, muskets blazing. Fire bombs were hurled into homes. Grain stores were torched. A mosque was blown apart. A temple collapsed.
But resistance was everywhere.
Milkmaids dropped boiling cauldrons on soldiers from balconies.
Children hurled burning pitch.
And from every alley, women emerged with blades—Jhansi's army of shadows.
Among them was Rani Laxmi, the widowed trainer of the palace guards, who personally slit the throat of a British captain trying to raise their flag.
From rooftops, Tatya Tope fired with uncanny precision—taking out two officers with one shot.
But still, they came.
Rani on the Battlefield – Blood and Fire
Lakshmibai fought through the smoke and bodies, sword gleaming like a mirror of death.
Her horse tore through the chaos, trampling, swerving, striking like wind and lightning combined.
She found herself face-to-face with an entire British cavalry unit attempting to encircle her.
She smiled.
Then charged.
She sliced through their formation like thunder slicing sky. Every stroke had fury, every cut had memory—her son, her people, her crown, her pain.
A bullet grazed her shoulder. Another hit her thigh.
She didn't stop.
Instead, she leaned into Badal's neck, whispered, "One more storm, my friend," and surged forward.
She reached the enemy cannon crew.
And burned them all.
Inside the Palace – The Hidden Passage
In the burning heart of the palace, Jhansi's royal banner fluttered half-torn.
Inside, Ghaus Khan limped through corridors, dragging wounded with his last strength.
Suddenly, he saw Raghunath Rao—bloodied but alive—sneaking toward the hidden treasury gate.
Traitor.
"I should've slit your throat when I had the chance," Ghaus growled.
Rao turned, eyes mad with fear.
"I was promised freedom!" he shouted. "I gave them the map. I gave them everything!"
He drew a pistol.
Ghaus Khan threw a knife.
Both weapons fired.
Raghunath fell first—clutching his stomach.
Ghaus Khan leaned against a column, bleeding.
He smiled.
"Even traitors die with the rest of us."
Meanwhile – British Headquarters
Ellis stood at the edge of the broken southern wall, watching flames rise into the sky.
He saw a woman in red cut through a platoon like a divine sword—slashing, dodging, burning.
"She's not human," he muttered.
General Rose walked up beside him. "No," he said. "She's something worse."
Ellis turned.
"A symbol."
The Turning Point – Reinforcements
Just as the British began pushing toward the citadel steps, a horn blew from the northern cliffs.
Then drums.
Then hoofbeats.
Tatya Tope's reinforcements had arrived.
Three hundred cavalry, screaming war cries, stormed into the British rear flank.
They didn't wear uniforms.
They wore vengeance.
And they struck like a pack of wolves.
British lines fractured. Chaos rippled backward. Commanders fell out of formation.
Inside the fort, hope lit the air for the first time in weeks.
Lakshmibai's Last Charge of the Day
Wounded. Exhausted. Still on horseback.
Lakshmibai rode up the temple steps—blood trailing behind her—stood tall before the goddess Durga, now headless from cannon blast.
She raised her sword.
All around her, smoke. Screams. Thunder. Chaos.
But her voice was calm.
"Jai Bhavani," she whispered.
Then she turned.
And charged back down the stairs into the fire.
Aftermath – Twilight of Victory
By nightfall, the British had retreated two miles.
They had lost men, morale, and momentum.
Jhansi stood—scorched, broken, bleeding.
But alive.
Lakshmibai stood at the palace gate, bleeding from her leg, her armor dented, hair tangled with soot and blood.
She looked up.
The flag still flew.
"Not today," she whispered.
"Not yet."
Final Scene – The Letter Never Sent
That night, Ellis wrote a report to London:
"The Queen of Jhansi is not merely a rebel.She is the wrath of a fallen empire dressed in silk and fire.We have underestimated her for the last time."
He folded the paper.
Then lit it with a candle.
Let it burn.
Because no words could capture what he saw that day.
Only fear.
End of Chapter Six