Lion-O sat staring at the red and black insignia emblazoned across the table. As day gave way to night, long shadows were creeping over its shiny surface, dimming the bright colours to muddy dullness. A good reflection of how we are today, he thought dejectedly. Diminished by the loss of two friends. No, two good friends, he corrected himself. Two people he could not imagine life without. Now they were gone. Not that long ago, they had been here, and he had treated them both shamefully. He had shut Bengali out and driven Cheetara away. It's your fault, declared the voice of his conscience. How dare you grieve for them when you are to blame!

The overhead lights came on and banished the mocking shadows. Liodella stood in the doorway, clearly unsure whether to intrude.

"You called a meeting?" she said. "I didn't know if you wanted me here."

He held out his hand to her and she came over to him. He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew some comfort from her presence. "Of course I want you here," he said.

"What's wrong?" she asked, gently stroking the side of his face. "Is it Cheetara and Bengali?"

He nodded. "There's something I have to tell the others before it becomes general knowledge."

"They're dead, aren't they?" she said, stating what was clear from his face. "When did you find out?"

Before he could answer, through the door came Panthro and Lynx-O followed by the twins. WilyKat had his hands thrust sullenly in his pockets and his sister looked unusually solemn. Snarfer trailed behind, the downward droop of his ears and the limp tail he dragged along the floor speaking for the general mood of the gathering. None, it seemed, expected good news. Lion-O knew he was not about to disappoint them.

He waited while they took their seats. Liodella moved from his arm and settled herself in the chair to his left. Only then did he notice the absences. "Where's Tygra and Pumyra?"

"Pumyra doesn't know what's happened yet," Panthro said. "She's been over at the puma settlement and out of contact. I didn't want her to know until we got some news. No point in upsetting her unnecessarily."

"And Tygra?"

Panthro gave a slight shrug. "I honestly don't know."

That the panther was equally mystified by his friend's strange behaviour was evident, but Lion-O was in no mood to pursue the subject. When, or perhaps if, Tygra showed up, he would be told. Over the next few days, Lion-O knew that he would have to repeat this news time and time again. It was a daunting thought. While waiting for the others to join him, he had taken the time to carefully choose the words. Now, as he looked from one anxious face to another, he realised that it did not matter how he put it; the effect would still be the same.

"I was contacted a little while ago by Slithe," he began. "He told me that the Serpentoid ship has been found." The ripple of excitement that went around the table soon faded as Lion-O slowly shook his head. "The news isn't good."

It took him a moment to compose himself before continuing. As the hesitation continued, it fell to WilyKat to break the hush. "They're dead, aren't they?" he said, more statement than question.

"Yes," Lion-O answered him. The cub's expression mirrored those of the others around the table. Numb shock, then grief that rose to his eyes and trembled on the brink of escape.

"How?" Panthro asked gruffly.

"From what I was told, when the snakes knew they had been discovered, they destroyed their ship rather than be taken. All aboard were killed."

The panther's steely gaze never wavered. "I don't believe it," he said.

"Nor do I," said Lion-O. "I can't believe they're gone. But--"

"But nothing," Panthro interrupted him. "It's too convenient, Lion-O. Slithe says Cheetara and Bengali are dead, so we stop looking. No," he said firmly, thumping his fist on the table for emphasis. "I don't believe a word of it!"

"But Lion-O's just told you what happened," said Liodella. Her unexpected outburst took everyone around the table by surprise, not least Liodella herself. Realising she had spoken out of turn, she quickly lowered her gaze and mumbled her apologies.

"With the greatest of respect to you, lady, because that's what we've been told doesn't mean we have to accept it," Panthro said. "Years of dealing with that treacherous slime makes me naturally suspicious. Slithe could say anything. What proof do we have it's true?"

"What proof would you like?" Lion-O said mildly.

"In the old days, we never assumed death until we saw a corpse."

"But if the ship was destroyed, then there won't be anything left," WilyKit said in a quiet, quavering voice. "So how--?"

"There are ways," Panthro said.

"Scanning the debris for Thunderian DNA, you mean?" said Lynx-O.

"That would be a start, yes. When do we leave?"

Lion-O sighed, not wanting to point out to the panther the obvious reason why that was impossible. "We don't," he said. "I've already asked the Ursans to conduct a search of the debris field and collect, well, whatever is left."

Panthro's scowl of displeasure deepened. "As much as I trust the Bears," he said, "tell me why we aren't doing this, Lion-O? They were our friends, for Jaga's sake."

"The peace--"

"Doesn't mean squat when they can kidnap two of our people and murder them in cold blood."

In the face of Panthro's growing anger, Lion-O held up his hands for calm. "If you'll let me finish, the Plun-darrian High Council are keen to distance themselves from the actions of these Snakes."

"I'll bet they are," growled Panthro.

"They say they are having some problems with renegade elements, who want to see the return of war between our two peoples. They say..." He hesitated, taking a moment to draw in a deep breath and ready himself for the likely reaction to what he had to say. "They say it was a mistake."

The hiss that broke from Panthro's lips was followed by a curse. He was out of his chair in an instant and pacing uneasily back and forth before coming to a stop by the window. Torn between anger and grief, from the way he supported himself with both hands against the window ledge, he was clearly struggling with inner turmoil. Fury won out and he turned on Lion-O with blazing eyes.

"How can you sit there and calmly say that what happened to our friends was a mistake?" he roared. "According to the Mutants, they've been murdered!"

"And how do you think that makes me feel?" Lion-O returned angrily. "Knowing that there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it!"

Panthro's expression changed. The light died in his eyes and turned away to stare out of the window. "This peace is a sham, surely you see that?" he said.

"Is it?" Lion-O retorted. "Or because you want it to be?"

"Or is it just easier for you not to see it?"

The words stung like salt in an already open wound. Yes, he saw it. He also knew that the House Leaders were so desperate to keep the peace treaty intact that they would be only too willing to agree with the official position that the Plun-darrian High Council had adopted. A mistake, of course. Never mind that two Thunderians had died. Those old cats would make a mockery of his kingship and bring Thundera to her knees. That thought added to the rage already fermenting in his soul until it would know neither containment nor reason.

"All right, we'll see who's in charge around here!" he declared. "Call the House Leaders. If Plun-darr wants a war, they've just got it!"

***************

"It's my fault, I know it is." Panthro buried his head in his hands and raked his fingers across his smooth scalp. "I should have stopped them leaving without us. If only we'd been together, we could have fought off those snakes and they would be safe here with us."

"'If only'," murmured Snarf, "the saddest phrase in the language. My old pappy used to say that there were too many 'if onlys' in the world and little use any of them." He purred consolingly and patted Panthro's hand. "You can't blame yourself. No one really knows what happened."

"We know they were kidnapped, probably tortured, and then what? We've only got Slithe's word for it that they're dead, and I trust him as far as I can throw him. Although," he added heavily, "part of me hopes they are."

"Weeow, don't say that."

"You don't know what would have happened to them if they had been taken to Plun-darr," he said quietly. The memory of other prisoners taken by the Mutants loomed large in his mind. In the years before the destruction of Thundera, he had seen horrors enough to last him the remainder of his days. His fists clenched involuntarily, only to drop down uselessly onto his lap. "I'm out of touch, aren't I? The past has been forgiven and forgotten, just as this will be. The Leaders want their peace too much."

"But Lion-O's the Lord of Thundera. If he says the peace is over, then so it is."

"Because two Thunderians have died?" Panthro shook his head. "Hundreds of thousands died when we fled Thundera, most of them at the hands of the Mutants. Two more deaths aren't going to matter to anyone. They'll write this off as an 'unfortunate error' and it'll be as though nothing happened. Except I will still have lost two good friends and I'll have to live every day knowing that I wasn't there to help them." Tears came into his eyes and he lowered his gaze so that Snarf would not see. "I've let them down, Snarf. I'll never see them again. Everything that was important in my life has gone."

Snarf started to cough painfully. Panthro choked his tears back and moved to help him sit up against a heap of pillows. "How's it going, old fella?" he asked with concern.

"Bad," Snarf said weakly. "Don't tell Lion-O. He's got enough to worry about without me." Another coughing fit racked his little body. When it passed, he flopped back onto the pillows, gasping for breath. A trace of blood showed on the tissue he took from his mouth. Snarf saw it and nodded. "I heard the healers saying they didn't think I had much longer. They're right, aren't they?"

"Healers can get it wrong," Panthro said gruffly.

"Weeow, not in this case. I know I'm dying. The only question is when, snarf, snarf." He gave a long, rattling sigh and stared up at the ceiling. "I never thought my friends would die before me, though. I'm an old snarf now. At my age you expect it. I just didn't expect it to be like this, lying in a bed, slowly rotting away. Many's the time on Third Earth when I thought we'd had it." He smiled at the memories. "We always managed to pull back from the brink, didn't we?"

"Yes, Snarf, we did."

"Perhaps it would have been better if we hadn't," he said sadly. "You know, gone in a blaze of glory, leaving only legends. That way you never have to experience the fall."

The door of his room opened and WilyKit and her brother trudged in. They sank down on the bottom of the bed and looked glum.

"Thought you'd like to know that the Leaders have reached a decision," said WilyKat in a quiet voice. "The peace is still on. The official line is that it was a deliberate attempt by renegades to sabotage the treaty. The Mutants 'claim' to be just as outraged as we are."

"I'll bet they are," Panthro growled. The dark look that persisted in the cub's eyes warned him there was more to come, possibly worse. WilyKat tried to avoid his inquiring gaze and dropped his eyes for careful consideration of his tightly clenched hands.

"There is something else," he said, still steadfastly refusing to meet Panthro's stare. "The Mutants... want to make amends for the deaths of our friends. They're offering compensation."

Panthro was on his feet in seconds. "Blood money," he hissed. "How dare they!"

He stormed over to the window and stared out over the busy city. In the streets below, life carried on as normal. The deaths of two more Thunderians had been already been assimilated and forgotten. It did not affect them or touch their lives in any way. But it did affect Panthro. It did pull him up by the boot strings and force him to face some uncomfortable truths. He switched his gaze to consider the hazy reflection in the glass of the window, almost not recognising himself. This is what he was now, a shadow of the panther he had once been. He had allowed himself to be intimidated and bullied and had stood meekly by while his life was stripped away. And all because of one mistake in the past he was held to ransom by a ruthless individual who bought his silence with its knowledge.

No, not a mistake, he thought. He had loved her. He would have died for her. But she had died, not him, and from that day he had carried the pain of his loss. He had never thought it would be used so devastatingly against him. It had forced his silence and cost him his Thundercat status. He had said nothing and Cheetara and Bengali had gone to their deaths. No, he decided, the price was too high. If damnation came through its revelation, then so be it. It was time to start making good on his promises.

An aching sob from behind him made him turn to find that WilyKit was in tears. "And the last time I saw him I was horrible to him," she was saying. "He died thinking I hated him." Her brother put his arm around her and gave her a reassuring hug. "I wish Bengali was here. I wish he wasn't dead so I could say I didn't mean it."

"I'm sure he knew that," Snarf said kindly. "All teen cubs get moody. I should know, snarf, snarf."

So, what's my excuse, Panthro thought. His mind drifted back to their earlier discussion. Bengali's words still rang in his mind. "Thunderians are dying because someone is feeding information to the Mutants and you don't care?" He did care, damn it! And he would do something about it.

"Listen up, kids," he said, the determination in his voice making the others look up at him in surprise. "My gut is telling me that something's wrong here. I still don't believe Cheetara and Bengali are dead. I'll never rest easy until I know for sure. So I'm going to find out for myself." Words of protest died on the twins' lips when he held up his hands for silence. "It's time to stand up and be counted. When my time comes, I want to be able to say that I was true to my principles and my friends. I will not be made a coward by the fear of a bunch of old cats."

His three friends regarded him gravelly. If the twins were stunned into an awed silence, at least Snarf still possessed the power of speech. "I'm with you, Panthro," he said.

"No, Snarf--"

"Hear me out," he interrupted him. "Weeow, I might be old, I might be ill, but I've still got the spirit that kept me going on Third Earth. I'll not be a burden on you, and if along the way I can help you find out what really happened to them, then I can die a happy snarf. What d'you say, Panthro?"

He considered, then slowly nodded. "I say I'd be honoured to have you with me, Snarf."

"Count me in too!" WilyKat declared, jumping to his feet.

"No," Panthro said firmly. "Where we're going, there's a good chance we may never return. You two have your whole lives ahead of you."

"You can't stop us," the cub retorted stubbornly.

"True, I can't," he admitted. "But I was hoping you would help us in another way. WilyKat, I understand you're taking Lynx-O to Ursa?"

He nodded. "A diplomatic mission. Plus there's a Bear who's keen to see his Braille board. He was saying something about being able to modify the technology to help him see again."

"Good. In that case, we'll be coming with you. Once on Ursa, we'll 'liberate' the Feliner when you aren't looking and be on our way."

"And we'll never see you again," murmured WilyKit.

Panthro patted the kitten on the head. "We'll only ever be a thought away, Kit."

"What about Tygra?" WilyKat asked.

Yes, what about him, Panthro thought. He had not seen him for days and had no idea where he would be. He was not even sure that he knew what had happened to Cheetara and Bengali. Or perhaps he did and had since lost himself in self-indulgence somewhere. Either way, he was not prepared to wait for him any longer to get his act together. He and Snarf would do it on their own.

***************

"What about Tygra?"

The voices gently drifted into his sleep-befuddled mind. He was conscious enough to recognise his own name and sensible enough to let the speakers continue, unaware of his eavesdropping.

"I'll deal with him."

"As you wish, my Leader."

"Oh, and Tygorax? Keep this to yourself, understand?"

"Yes, my Leader."

The sound of retreating footsteps and the soft swish of a closing door told him that the aforementioned Tygorax had left. Somewhere to his left came the hiss of air being expelled from a cushion as it was sat on. He lay still, wondering what would happen next. To his ears came the sound of a cork being pulled from a bottleneck, then a harsh odour filled his nostrils and seared his sinuses with its fiery breath. He jerked away from it, the pretence of sleep forsaken. Opening his eyes, he stared up into the unsmiling face of Leader Mardak.

"Wh-where am I?" he asked groggily.

"My home," the tiger said, stoppering the small green glass bottle that contained the foul smell and setting it carefully on the bedside table. "You were found unconscious in the western quarter of town. Dead drunk, or so the concerned citizen who brought you here thought." He took a deep breath and sat back in his chair. "Tell me, Tygra, how bad is it?"

"I only had a couple of drinks--"

"Don't insult my intelligence!" Mardak snapped, cutting him short. "This was no drunken stupor. There was only the faintest trace of alcohol on your breath." He sighed and shook his head. "I admit, I had wondered if there was more to your exile on Third Earth than a mere preference for that world. My deepest fears have been confirmed. So, I ask again, how bad is it?"

"There's nothing wrong with me!"

"Then explain what happened to leave you slumped in the gutter like a drunken Mutant?"

Tygra struggled to sit up in the bed, only to be hit by a wave of dizziness. He collapsed weakly back onto the pillows and groaned. The edge of a glass was pressed to his parched lips and water slopped into his mouth. He drank eagerly, grateful for the relief and clarity that its coolness brought. As if a curtain had been lifted, his mind was restored. He knew where he was, who he was, but not what had happened. A yawning chasm gaped in his memory. The last thing he remembered for certain was arriving back at the Lair. But when was that? Yesterday? The day before?

"I've not been well," he said, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

Mardak slowly shook his head. "I'm sorry, Tygra. I don't believe you. You may have been able to fool the others with this pretence, but not a fellow tiger. You think I do not know the symptoms of the Madness?"

He knew. Tygra gulped and tried to quash the fear that was running ice-cold through his veins. "No. No, Mardak, it's nothing like that, I swear."

"You cannot deceive me, cousin. Your father told me the details of the condition when he chose me as his successor. His brother died in the asylum. In his final days he was completely uncontrollable. The disease was left to take its course."

Tygra nodded. "He beat his brains out rather than live with what was in his head."

"You know that feeling, don't you?" said Mardak. "I can see it in your eyes. The pain that you live with, the effort it takes you to keep your control. You're losing the battle, aren't you?" He found the answer in Tygra's bowed head and downcast gaze. "I'm sorry. I had to know. Your father warned me of such a possibility. I had hoped that you would not return to Thundera, that an early death would spare you this. As I said, I had my suspicions, but while you remained on Third Earth, you were a danger to none but yourself. How long have you been like this?"

"A year, year and a half. I can't remember. It's been a while."

Mardak considered for a moment. "We cannot ignore this. Your future must be decided tonight."

A cold sweat soaked his fur. The future could hold only one thing. Confinement to the asylum and a slow and lingering decline. Raw fear coursed through him. In desperation he clutched at Mardak.

"Please, don't send me there," he begged. "There has to be another way. Don't send me there!"

Mardak looked down at him, his expression torn between sympathy and disgust. "What else is there, Tygra? A mad tiger is a danger to himself and everyone around him."

"I wouldn't hurt anyone, I swear. Please, Mardak. Let me leave and go to some out of the way place where I can die with my honour intact."

Mardak slowly shook his head. "You remember the lessons they taught us about the forcing of one mind upon another. The devastation left in its wake when done without pity or remorse? In our exile, one of our brethren became afflicted like you. We took pity. That was our mistake. Fifteen died from his rape of their minds including my mate before he was stopped. We were forced to end his life. It was a hard thing to do, to put to death one of our own, but it had to be done." Mardak turned his gaze back to where Tygra lay. His amber eyes had grown pale, as though the very life had been drained from them. "I'm sorry, cousin. I will not risk the lives of our people. A decision lies before you. I would prefer that you choose, but if not, it will be made for you. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"For the safety of all," Tygra said slowly, "I have to be confined." He swallowed heavily and forced himself to meet Mardak's unwavering gaze. "I cannot face it. I would rather die."

"Yes, I thought you would say that." He took up a carafe and filled a glass with water. To this, he added the contents of the green bottle and swilled the mixture until the fluid was dissolved. "You are my cousin," he said gravely. "I would not see you suffer." He set the glass down on the table and pushed it towards him. "Drink it."

"What is it?"

"Poison," Mardak said evenly. "Your body temperature will rise beyond reasonable levels. Organ failure is inevitable. I have added a sleeping draught to the mixture so that you will feel no pain. As far as anyone will know, you died from the effects of a fever." Seeing Tygra's continued hesitancy, he sighed. "Understand me, cousin. You will not leave this room alive. Either you drink it, or it will be forced upon you. There is no other way. I cannot permit you to become a danger to us."

"Yes, I know. But suicide..."

"Think of it rather as a blessed release for yourself and all of us."

He glanced up at Mardak in surprise. "Why? What have I ever done to you?"

"Nothing, that is the problem. While you have been content to hide away on Third Earth, you have never been forgotten. You are the son of a past Leader, regardless of the fact that you were disowned. Your actions reflect on all of us. When it is known that you have the Madness..." He gave a slight shudder. "Our House will be shaken to the very core. Your father's decisions will be called into question, including my appointment as his successor. While we fight amongst ourselves, what little standing we have on the Council of Leaders will be eroded. Already the others move against us, with their alliances and petty intrigues." Mardak sighed deeply, as though trying to expel the troubles clinging to his heart. "You are an honourable tiger, Tygra. You will do this for us. You will do it for your friends."

"My friends?"

"Of course. Had you not considered that your condition might cause Lion-O's lordship to be questioned? After all, you took part in his Anointment Trials. I'm sure you can guess what will be said. That you weren't competent, that the Trials were compromised..."

"That I let him win," Tygra finished for him.

"Under such circumstances, the Trials would have to be held again. Are you so confident that he could triumph again? And before you answer that, you should know that something troubles our young Lord. I am not sure what, but at the peace negotiations, I saw his determination to protect his fellow Thundercats crumble in the face of a greater need. And I saw those same doubts in his eyes when he told us of the deaths of your friends. His anger was tempered by--"

"Deaths?" Tygra asked. "Who is dead?"

"I am sorry, cousin, I thought you knew. Bengali and Cheetara were killed by their captors."

The room shook from his wail of grief and pain. "No!" he cried. "I don't believe you!"

He almost choked on the sobs that caught in his throat. Utter helplessness washed over him, leaving him weak. Mardak was still talking, but Tygra was past hearing him. His eyes were fixed on the glass. What did he have left to live for anyway? Better death than dishonour to himself and his friends. Better to slip away unnoticed than leave devastation in the wake of an ignoble passing. He quickly downed the liquid and lay back on the pillows, waiting for his end.

Mardak took the glass from him and got to his feet. "A wise decision. You die with your name and honour intact. Goodbye, cousin. May the ancestors speed you to your rest." He turned and walked from the room, never looking back. The door closed behind him and with it came the soft click of a lock falling into place. He had been left to his dying and it would be alone.

Already sweat was seeping from every pore of his skin, matting his fur to his body. Pools had collected in the hands that he raised to wipe his brow, adding to the rivulets of water that dribbled down onto the sheets. His end was coming fast and with it, the promise of deliverance from his tortuous existence. He offered no resistance as oblivion whispered in his ear.

Then, from deep within, came the unwanted scream of life. Why have you done this? it demanded. Fight, Tygra, do not die like this!

"It is the only way," he murmured.

Doubt suddenly filled his mind. What had he done? He tried to get up from the bed, but his trembling arm muscles would not bear his weight. Still the fire raged through his body, sending his temperature soaring. Unchecked as it was, he would be dead soon enough. Desperately, he reached for the carafe. Time and time again he tried, but it remained stubbornly beyond his grasp until his fumbling fingers sent it tumbling from the table. He could only watch as its life-saving contents spread a dark blotch across the bright colours of the rug. The bitterness of failure was too much to bear. The promise of early years was long gone and the endless struggle meaningless now as he lay there, his life draining away with every droplet of sweat that trickled from his skin. And, oh, the irony, for at the end, his mind was frighteningly lucid. Fear had brought him to this, and now fear of living had been replaced by fear of death. A thousand regrets rose from the darkening corners of his mind to torture him in his final moments. And the greatest of all brought with it the consolation of knowing that they would be together again. He held onto her image, tried to conjure up her face in his mind. And suddenly she was there, looking down at him with compassion, and stroking his fevered brow with a feather-light touch.

"Cheetara," he whispered, as her fingertips drifted across his cheek. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

"Forgiven," came her gentle reply. Her hand slid beneath his neck, tilting his head up to meet the glass she raised to his lips. The water trickled into his mouth and down his parched throat. He sank back down into the pillows and felt calm settle over his tortured body. The fires died, leaving only the damp sheets with the memory of their presence.

"Is it over?" he said. "Am I dead?"

A cruel smile crept across her lips. "Oh, no, my love," she smirked. "You think I would let you escape so easily?"

He jerked up in bed, startled into full consciousness. For the voice coming from her mouth was not hers, but that of his constant tormentor, and the laugh that shook the room was harsh and masculine. He blinked and suddenly she was gone. He glanced around, not sure what was happening.

< Oh, poor Tygra! > echoed that familiar voice. < Are we confused? Let me enlighten you. >

He watched in horror as a piece of broken glass rose from the floor and came towards him. An invisible force pinned him to the wall and held him there, as his right arm was wrenched up and the shard applied to his skin. A well of blood sprang from the wound, eagerly coursing down his arm. A single drop fell to the bed and then no more. For the gaping edges of the torn flesh had pulled together and knitted perfectly. Before his eyes, the wound had healed.

< You tried to run away from me, Tygra > accused the voice. < But I won't let you die, not till I'm finished with you. I want to see you confined for the rest of your miserable, stinking life and I'm gonna be there every minute of every day, keeping you company, forever and ever and ever! >

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