Khara, filled with pride and wrath, stood before his mighty host of Rākṣasas and declared, “This is plain before you all—I do not speak falsely. Even if enraged, I could slay the king of the gods himself, he who rides the intoxicated Airāvata. He who wields the thunderbolt in battle could be slain by me—what then of those two men?” Hearing Khara’s thunderous boast, the great army of Rākṣasas rejoiced, their hearts swelling with delight despite the doom that hung over them. Drawn by the prospect of battle, and eager to witness the clash, many great souls gathered. In the heavens, seers, gods, Gandharvas, Siddhas, and Cāraṇas assembled, speaking among themselves about the one of virtuous deeds. They prayed, “May there be welfare for cows and Brāhmaṇas, and for all those esteemed in the worlds. May Rāghava conquer in battle the Paulastyas, the night-roaming demons. As Viṣṇu, bearing the discus, destroyed the foremost of Asuras, so may he now triumph.” Thus, and in many other ways, the supreme seers spoke, their voices filled with hope. The gods, filled with curiosity, stationed themselves in their aerial chariots, gazing down at the Rākṣasa army, whose fate was already sealed. Then Khara, swift as a hawk, surged forth at the head of his host in his chariot. Around him gathered twelve mighty warriors: Pṛthugrīva, Yajñaśatru, Vihaṃgama, Durjaya, Karavīrākṣa, Paruṣa, Kālakārmuka, Hemamālī, Mahāmālī, Sarpāsya, and Rudhirāśana. These valiant twelve advanced around Khara, while behind Dūṣaṇa marched four fierce champions: Mahākapāla, Sthūlākṣa, Pramātha, and Triśiras. The Rākṣasa army, terrible in speed and eager for battle, bristling with heroes, surged forward. Suddenly, they confronted the two princes, Rāma and Lakṣmaṇa, who stood like the radiant sun and moon approached by garlanded planets. Now begins the twenty-fourth sarga. When Khara, mighty in valor, set out for the hermitage, Rāma, together with Lakṣmaṇa, beheld the same ominous portents. Deeply troubled for the safety of the people, Rāma spoke to his brother, “Behold, O mighty-armed one, these great and terrible omens that have arisen to announce the destruction of all the Rākṣasas. Streams of blood, resounding with harsh cries, pour forth; in the sky, clouds appear rough and tinged the color of donkey’s blood. All my arrows, wreathed in smoke and golden-backed, quiver restlessly, eager for battle, O discerning one. Forest birds call out in strange ways; safety does not lie ahead for us, and there is doubt regarding our very lives. “A tremendous battle is certain, my arm trembles again and again as a sign. Yet, O hero, when we draw near, victory will be ours and defeat the enemy’s, for your face shines bright and clear. When a warrior’s face loses its luster before battle, it signals his end. Hear the terrible roar of the howling Rākṣasas, and the beating of their cruel drums. One who desires good must prepare for what is yet to come, wisely anticipating danger. Therefore, take Vaidehī with you, armed with bow and arrows, and seek refuge in a fortified cave on the mountain, thick with trees. I wish to face them myself; do not argue, my child—go as I command, and do not delay. You are brave and strong and could slay these foes, but I wish to destroy all these night-wanderers myself.” Thus addressed, Lakṣmaṇa took up his bow and arrows, and with Sītā, sought shelter in the secure cave. When they had entered, Rāma declared, “Now, let them come!” and donned his shining armor. Adorned in his armor, blazing like fire, Rāma stood out in the darkness like a great conflagration. He raised his bow and took up his great arrows, and the twang of his bowstring filled all quarters. The gods, Gandharvas, Siddhas, and Cāraṇas—all great souls—gathered, eager to witness the battle. The great sages, foremost among the brahmarṣis, assembled and spoke among themselves: “May there be welfare for cows, Brāhmaṇas, and all the worlds! May Rāghava conquer in battle the Paulastyas, the night-roaming demons! Just as the wielder of the discus destroys the foremost Asuras in battle, so may he now prevail!” Thus they spoke, looking upon one another, filled with concern and hope. They wondered, “Fourteen thousand Rākṣasas of terrible deeds, and Rāma alone, righteous—how will this battle unfold?” As Rāma, blazing with energy, stood at the forefront of battle, all beings were seized with fear. His form, tireless in deeds, became incomparable—like the great Rudra himself when enraged. While the gods, Gandharvas, and Cāraṇas spoke thus, a mighty host arose with deep, terrifying roars, clad in dreadful skins, bearing weapons and banners. The night-demons assembled all around, uttering the shouts of warriors, advancing toward one another. They drew their bows, stretching them again and again, yawning repeatedly; the tumult of their voices and the beating of drums resounded across the field, announcing the beginning of that fateful battle.