Lion-O curled up into a fetal ball, whimpering.  He was alone, faraway from villages or beings of any kind.  The sun had long ago slipped below the horizon, leaving him cold and hungry.  A soft, chilly breeze whispered through the dark leaves of the trees at night.  It whispered the word *coward*.

"No!" he screamed back to the wind, trying to deny it.  But he couldn't.  When he had been all powerful and ignorant, bravery was easy.  But now that he knew, that he understood there was so much out there worth being terrified of, bravery seemed a faraway and foolish dream.  He sobbed, confronted with his own wretchedness.  If only the monster had caught him.  If only he had perished before ever having to face this moment.

His mind joined the rustling of the leaves in casting accusations.  Truth, he scolded himself.  You have lied to yourself, you have lied to others.  You told them you were a leader.  You told them you were a warrior.  You lied to them.  You lied to yourself.

"No!"

Honor, he continued.  You murdered Vultureman.  You fled from battle.  You promised to destroy Castle Plundarr, but yet it stands.  You have no honor. You are a hollow man.

"No!"

Loyalty.  You left your friends.  You left your soldiers.  And now you are alone.  Not because they left you, but because you ran away from them.  You have all the friends and allies you deserve.

"No!"

Justice.  They all died, but you lived.  You owe them all a death.  You owe many, many deaths.  How will you balance the scales?

"I can't die!  I have a destiny!"

What destiny is that?

Lion-O dug his claws into the soft earth below him in anguish.  "To rule!"

What makes you qualified to rule?

"I have strength!"

You're just an overgrown boy with big muscles.  You couldn't lead yourself out of a paper bag.

"I was born a king!"

Just like your father?  And his father before him?  You were born a puppet. The Jaguars were right to usurp the Lions.  Look how well you've done without Jaga's help.  Without his code, without his sword, without his advice, without his power, what are you?  A boy with nothing, crying in the forest.  You have nothing.  You are nothing.

A strangled cry escaped his lips.  He knew he was right.  He couldn't deny it any longer.  How far he'd come.  He remembered a time, it didn't seem so long ago, when he was a just a boy.  Everyone he knew bowed down before him, everything he saw belonged to him, and someday his very will would be the law. It was all an illusion of course.  And now he was left with reality.

What would he do now?  Where would he go now?  Would he spend the remainder of his days a vagabond in the wilderness?  Or was it better to just slip away into the comforting embrace of death.  An end to all pain.

Under the silent watch of the whispering trees, the miserable young man finally slipped into a troubled sleep.

And Lion-O dreamed.

He was a young man, on a massive spaceship speeding away from the obliterated remains of his homeworld.  The mutants had fallen upon them like carrion birds.  It was a holocaust.  So many had been killed, but no tears were shed.
Jaga had set a course for another planet, one far away from the roundevous. He would remain awake while the others went into stasis.  Young Lion-O had cried as he embraced Jaga for the last time.  And then the lid to the stasis pod slid down over him and all was darkness.  A darkness so thick that one could float in it.  A darkness in which he had dreamed for the rest of his life.

And then the sharp flash of light and pain as the lid slid up, and the comforting darkness retreated back, leaving a roar in his ears as reality buffeted his senses once again.  "Wake up, young Lion-O," said jaga's wizened voice, less kindly than Lion-O had ever remembered it being in the past.  "We have much work to do."

"I don't understand," replied the young man, shakily.  He was confused and overwhelmed, disoriented by being so suddenly torn out of his suspended slumber.

"No, Lion-O.  The planet we are travelling to is a dark place, and has been ruled by evil forces for two ages.  If the others are to survive, you will need to be strong."

"But Jaga, if the planet is ruled by evil, why are we going there?"

Jaga's look darkened.  "That is not your concern.  We shall begin by running. Run, Lion-O, as fast as you can, back and forth along the main corridors.  Run until I tell you to stop."  Lion-O obeyed.  He ran as fast as he could, until
his breathing was ragged, and his pounding heart threatened to explode out of his chest.  "Keep running," demanded Jaga's voice, seeming to come from inside Lion-O's mind.  He kept running until he collapsed.

Jaga stood before one of the fuel storage pods.  It weighed over a ton. "Lift this, Lion-O," he demanded quietly.

The young man protested.  "Jaga, I can't!  It's too heavy!  I can barely move!  Why are you doing this to me?" he sobbed.

Jaga graced Lion-O with a disapproving look.  "Don't cry.  Lift."  Young Lion-O brushed the tears from his eyes and braced his feet, curling his fingers under the lip of the storage pod.  His slender muscles strained, and his body shook as he pushed his strength to the limits.  The pod didn't move. "Again," said Jaga softly.  "Again.  And again..."

Lion-O's body felt like it was on fire.  All his muscles groaned in pain. Jaga led him into the ship's assembly room.  It was wide enough for a small crowd, and the ceiling was high and vaulted.  "Jump Lion-O.  All the way across the room.  You will be shocked each time you touch the floor."

'But Jaga, this is the assembly room!  No one could jump all that way!  I'm tired!  I hurt!" the young man snivelled.

"Jump," was Jaga's only reply.  Lion-O leapt for all he was worth, which was not far in his present condition.  A jolt of pain convulsed his body as his feet touched the ground.  He pushed off as soon as he landed, another short leap carrying him another grinding step of the way across the floor.  He hopped for all he was worth, crying out each time he landed to take another hop, until he had reached the other side.  "Now jump back," said Jaga sternly. "Backwards.  Again.  Again!"

Young Lion-O felt it would never end.  Finally, Jaga led him back to the command room, where the suspension pods sat.  He handed the young man the Sword of Omens.  "Focus, Lion-O, make it grow.  You did it once before, do it now."

Lion-O tried.  His mind was numbed, fatigued, confused, and clouded.  He tried to concentrate on the cold metal of the sword, to bend it to his will. But it remained lifeless metal.

"Try again, Lion-O.  Focus.  Make the sword respond.  You haven't the power to command unprepared objects, but I have already weakened the metal for you, made it my slave.  It merely awaits a command.  Command it.  Focus Lion-O."

Lion-O's face tensed in concentration, but still the sword remained unmoved. "Why can't I unlock the sword's power, Jaga?"

"The sword has no power, Lion-O.  It is just a slab of metal, like any other blade.  The only power it has is the power its weilder imposes on it.  You can not unlock the power of the blade, because you can not unlock the power within yourself.  In the future, my body shall be gone, but my spirit and my power will remain.  Focus Lion-O, and you can call upon my power even then.  Become one with The Eye, as I have, and then I shall always be with you."

Finally, Jaga carried the youth back to his suspension capsule.  "Now forget, Lion-O.  Tomorrow we shall start anew."  He passed his hand over Lion-O's eyes, and darkness overwhelmed him.  Dimly Lion-O could hear the lid of the suspension capsule closing over him, and then all was famaliar, comforting blackness.

And then the sharp flash of light and pain as the lid slid up, and the comforting darkness retreated back, leaving a roar in his ears as reality buffeted his senses once again.  "Wake up, young Lion-O," said jaga's wizened voice, less kindly than Lion-O had ever remembered it being in the past.  "We have much work to do."

Lion-O was too dazed and sore to even reply.  Jaga serenely began his commands.  "Run.  Lift.  Jump.  Focus.  Run.  Lift.  Jump.  Focus.  Again. Again.  Again!  Forget."  And then when it seemed that Lion-O could endure no more, back he went into the darkness of the suspension capsule.

And then the sharp flash of light and pain as the lid slid up, and the comforting darkness retreated back, leaving a roar in his ears as reality buffeted his senses once again.  Over and over again, day after day, for months, years.  Whenever Lion-O questioned he was told to forget.  He sprinted up and down the corridors without losing his breath.  He lifted the gigantic fuel pods high over his head.  He leapt across the assembly chamber, his feet touching down briefly at the opposite side before he propelled himself back up to backflip back to his starting position.  The Sword of Omens growled in his hand, growing at his command, changing at his command, lancing out with fire, ice, energy, sound, and light, just as Lion-O willed it to.  And through that will Lion-O forged links to the metal and its master, binding his soul to Jaga's.  They were one.

And Jaga smiled at him with loving approval, admiring the youth's strength, and speed, and stamina, and will.  What a beautiful tool he had created.  What an incredibly sharp blade he had forged.

And then the sharp flash of light and pain as the lid slid up, and the comforting darkness retreated back, leaving a roar in his ears as reality buffeted his senses once again.  Every day he was born anew, his mind blank, his body stronger.  He had no conception of past or future.  If he had, he would probably have gone mad.

Lion-O let out a low, muffled scream as he lay on the forest floor.  His muscles trembled in strange dream sympathy to the fatigue he felt in his mind. He had a concept of past and future, so his mind trembled worse, reeling as the endless repition of labors and pain unfolded in his mind.  Years upon years worth of days that were exactly the same.  And as he writhed in the
depths of his agony he knew.  He was not dreaming.  He was remembering.