Ravana kept to his word and the truce went unbroken. We rose early the next morning, before even the rising of the sun. We prepared for war. I claimed a new tree from the shores of Lanka for my weapon and took my place among the honor guard for Rama. We stood resolute and ready for anything as the sun crept over the horizon. Morning brought a glorious sight of the city. I must admit that there are few sights are more awe-inspiring than seeing the sun rise over that demon city.

The great western gates opened slowly and the demon army marched out and formed battle lines. Their ranks were loose; even from the great distance that we faced one another, I could tell that they were nervous. Even though all of their dead had been swept away by some mystical force conjured by Ravana, the morale of the demon army was broken. The loss of Ravana's son, Indrajit, almost certainly marked the turning of the battle. Their numbers were dwindling and their great heroes were vanquished.

As the sun rose toward midday, battle was commenced. We moved into battle. Once more I crushed the demon hordes by the legion. Rama fought with us, shouting words of encouragement whenever one of our own was cut down. He shot thousands of arrows, slaying demons with the fervor of a thousand apes and bears all by himself.

The day wore on and we inflicted massive casualties on the demons. As the sun sank down past the horizon and the moon rose up above, the demons retreated back into their city. We chased them to the gate and pounded upon the massive timbers until Rama called us back to our camp. We hadn’t even crossed half of the field when Ravana appeared on the city walls.

Rama ordered us all to make camp and watch the wall. I directed the others and before long we had the entire camp made. A pair of braziers had been set on Lanka’s wall and they clearly illuminated Ravana as he danced and sang. He sang in a demonic tongue that sounded glorious and mighty. His dance glorified all of his warlike nature. He juggled fire with his twenty hands. He swept through the air in a show of martial prowess. In time he finished his dance and song and departed the wall.

“Gather near!” Rama called his honor guard close to him. “Ravana has sung a song of battle and has, by doing so, directly challenged me to personal combat. This is the end of the war. I kindly thank you all for your aid, and ask that none of you interfere in any way. You see, everyone has their time. The time now is for Ravana to fall.”

There were many grunts and howls among the honor guard. My voice was among those touting the glory of Rama. He graced us all with a smile.

“The fastest of you must spread the word among the rest of the animal army,” he said.

Those with the fleetest of feet rushed away from him to spread the word. Rama took his time preparing himself for battle. He stripped off his armor and prayed quietly by himself. When he returned he washed his hair and dressed in his fine garments of battle. He was taking up his bow when a chariot descended from the sky.

“Rama, I have heard that you’re in need of a chariot and charioteer,” Matali the charioteer shouted as he landed near Rama. “I am Matali and this is chariot is a gift to aid you in battle against Ravana from Indra!”

Rama walked forward and bowed before the glorious charioteer. We gave a loud cheer of approval.

“Thank you, good Matali,” Rama said with a glorious smile. He climbed up into the chariot with Matali. “We will ride forth in glory and fame shall be ours. Ravana will fall this night!”

Matali snapped the reins over the pair of divine horses before the chariot and the chariot lurched away from us. Meanwhile, Ravana’s chariot rolled out through the gates. He drove his chariot with half of his hands while the other half managed implements of war. The chariots took off to the sky. We of the animal army watched in awe as Ravana shot a thousand arrows toward Rama.

Rama valiantly shot down each arrow with the precision of the gods. When Ravana launched unholy astras in blazing colors of saffron, each marked with impurity. Rama countered each with an astra of his own. Blue bolts flared across the sky from Rama’s chariot and struck down each of Ravana’s saffron bolts. Rama’s chariot faltered, ever so slightly once.

In time Ravana’s heads and arms began to fall from the sky. Bits of bow eventually joined the severed limbs and heads littering the ground. In a flare of blue and green light, Ravana’s chariot tumbled from the sky and smashed into the ground. Matali landed Rama nearby and Rama disembarked.

Ravana climbed from the wreckage of his smashed chariot. His ten heads scowled and shouted curses at Rama. His twenty hands each carried a massive mace. Rama calmly walked toward Ravana. He drew a long arrow from his quiver and chanted a mantra as he nocked the arrow in the string of his bow. As he drew the string back to his ear, the arrow transformed from common wood, metal, and feather to a glorious swirling bolt of blue and gold. Rama released the arrow and it sped across the battlefield, illuminating the ground as it soared.

Ravana moved his maces to intercept the holy bolt. He wasn’t slow and got all twenty maces in the way. However, the astra Rama had chosen for this final arrow was one of endings. The blue and gold bolt smashed through all twenty maces, and right through Ravana’s heart and out the other side.

Ravana stood bewildered for a moment. He then took two staggering steps toward Rama and fell, face first, into the dust. A chorus of cheers went up from the animal army. Rama raised his hand and we all fell silent.

“Go and acquire wood for a funeral pyre. Ravana deserves a proper sending off,” he said quietly. There was no doubt in my mind that the whole of the animal army, and the remaining demons, could hear his voice.

And so ended the war. Sita was returned to Rama and the horrible demon king Ravana was laid to rest.