Beneath the powder blue of a summer's sky, flowers painted in Nature's brightest hues nodded and swayed at her approach. Curious of this person in their midst they turned their heads towards her, daubing her legs with splashes of yellow pollen as she passed. But she did not stop. She was running, but it was not the flight of fear. Her heart was full of joy and her body pulsed with anticipation for the one who followed. She could hear his heavier footfalls on the soft earth behind her, hear his laboured breathing. She could defeat him in this race, yet she no had desire to do so. Slowing, she could hear him coming ever closer, until strong arms encircled her waist and pulled her down onto the yielding grasses. His breath was hot upon her face, his body sweaty from the chase. He was all this and more, for he was beauty and she longed to share his passion.

Closing her eyes, she surrendered to the mastery of the sweet kisses he showered down upon her exposed shoulders and throat. And then his eager lips sought hers and she welcomed him and the joy his presence brought, for with him and through him and by him there was safety and love for this soul greater than anything she had ever known. She offered to him her love and he took it, gently at first, then with force, demanding more. Her surprise brought resistance and at that he grew rough, tearing at her thin clothes, using his strength to contain her struggles beneath him. Fear replaced love and she knew she must lose to this being of power. He would take what she would not give without mercy, for his declarations of love were false and he sought to fill only his unquenchable hunger. And he drew upon her until unbearable anguish caused the return of consciousness.

She awoke with a start and immediately sat up. A dream, but it had real enough to dampen her skin with sweat. Banishing thoughts of her troubled sleep aside, she shivered and rubbed her cold arms as she took in her surroundings. She sat in a circle of light, lit by an unseen source high above her head. Beyond was only darkness. A few yards away, Bengali lay on his side, seemingly asleep. Where was this place, she wondered. Her last coherent memory had been of a place of gloom and of the stink of fear and blood in her nostrils. There were other memories too, of pain beyond description, of a leering face that took pleasure in her suffering, of hands that had perpetrated torture upon her injured limb.

Instinctively, she glanced down at it, curious that it no longer hurt. Fear of what she might see turned to surprise. Where the skin had been torn and bloodied was now smooth and unblemished. Beneath her hand the muscles quivered in silent readiness for her command and the bone ran straight and true. The only reminder of what had once been was the dappled patches of dried blood on the dirty orange material of her torn dress. She had been healed. Bengali too, for as she inched over to him, she saw that the raw burns on his face had disappeared. Praying that his sight had also been restored, she shook him gently, trying to rouse him from his slumber. In his sleep, he groaned, then suddenly jerked up into a sitting position. Panting, he glanced about him, seeing but not understanding, until finally his eyes came to rest upon her face.

"Cheetara," he breathed. "Thank the gods it's you. I had this terrible dream."

"So did I," she said.

A shaking hand went to his head and wiped a thin film of sweat from his brow. "What happened?"

"I don't know," she replied. "I was hoping you would tell me."

"I'm not sure…" he began. He blinked, once, twice, then he turned to look at her. "Oh, gods, I can see. I can see!" Relief made a brilliant smile break across his features and before she knew what was about to happen he had pulled her to him and planted a kiss upon her cheek. "Cheetara," he cried, "I can see and you are amazingly beautiful!" He paused for breath and a little of his delight evaporated. "But how?" he said wonderingly. "How has this happened? Are you all right?" His gaze moved from her face to her leg. "By Thundera, you're better too. How?"

"I don't know that either, Bengali. I don't even know where we are."

"Aren't we on the Mutants' ship?" he asked, looking about him. The return of memory caused his expression to grow solemn. "No, that's right, something happened." He cleared his throat and took her hands in his. "Cheetara, listen, I've got something to tell you. It's not very pleasant, but I think it'll explain our situation." He took a deep breath and held her eyes. "After you passed out, Slithe came aboard. He killed Scintax, said he was ordered to do it. He was going to kill us, but then something attacked the ship. The Mutants called it the 'Scourge'. I don't know what it was exactly, but it had them terrified. They said it was eating the ship or something. Anyhow, Slithe ran and left us." He gave her hands a reassuring squeeze. "Cheetara, I think we were eaten."

It was not the revelation she had been expecting. As a condition went, death was proving a mixed blessing. So far, her body had been mended and her mind tortured. The mystics had spoken of the afterlife as a place of peace and beauty, but here there was only worry and uneasiness borne of the silent darkness that surrounded their illuminated island.

"So," Bengali said. "What d'you think happens now?"

"How should I know?" she said. "I've never been dead before."

"Well, you don't think this is it, do you? I mean, there has to be more to the Astral Plane than this." He gestured to their surroundings and frowned. "Unless we've been sent to the other place."

"Don't be ridiculous," she chided him. Of course it was a possibility, but not one she wanted to even think about. The other place, as Bengali termed it, was reserved for Thundera's most wicked and was a place of sad shades, who dwelt forever in loneliness and perpetual darkness, so the mystics had led them to believe. Looking about her, she began to wonder what exactly qualified as 'most wicked'. After all, who could be certain where the cut-off point for wickedness lay? Despite her best intentions, she knew that she had not always been a shining example of virtue. But did that put her on the same level as someone like Grune, she wondered. Lacking answers, all she could do was to fervently hope she was not about to find out.

Still, there was something about this place that did not feel right. It was nothing definite, nothing she could point to as proof. It was just a feeling, but as feelings went it was pretty strong.

"Are you absolutely sure we're dead?" she asked him.

Bengali shrugged. "We were eaten, Cheetara. I guess that makes us pretty well dead."

"Yes, but are you sure? Did you see it happen?" She checked herself for forgetting that his injuries would have prevented that. "Sorry. I meant--"

"Did I feel the jaws close about me?" he finished for her. "Well, no. I blacked out. But it was strange though. It didn't feel hostile. If anything, it seemed quite friendly. I had the feeling that it wasn't evil."

"Just because it wanted to eat us doesn't make it evil, Ben," she said.

A smile lifted the corners of his lips.

"What?" she said.

"I've noticed something," he said. "You know you only ever call me 'Ben' when you're really worried."

"That's true enough," she said, giving him a weary smile. "I am worried. This place…" She shuddered as she glanced about. "This place doesn't feel right somehow."

"Is that a 'sixth sense says it doesn't feel right' sort of feeling?" he queried.

"No," she murmured. "It can't be that…" She hesitated, wondering at her words. Now he came to mention it, the feeling was vaguely familiar, like a watered down version of the great waves of psychic intuition that used to sweep over her and bring her to her knees. No, she told herself, it was impossible. Her sixth sense was gone. She had made it go away. She had awoken to a new day on Thundera as an ex-Thundercat and found that she had succeeded in silencing it forever. Or so she thought.

Tentatively, almost fearful, she sought its presence in her mind. Where once it had burned bright, now only the dimmest spark glowed amidst the cobwebs and shadows. At her approach, it awakened. Before her yawned the path she had not trod for a long time. She was aware of its illusory qualities, in the grass that had grown between the stones, of the decay of the once firm path, of the sense of loneliness. And yet it was somehow appropriate. It was a part of herself, neglected for too long. In denying it, she had denied herself and tried to fit the image that those around her wanted. To make herself acceptable to them, she had turned her back on her gift, but it had always been there, awaiting her return. Now it showed its pleasure at her presence with flowers that bloomed by the wayside and with the lifting of the shadows. The darkness peeled back at her approach, letting her into its secrets. Deeper into its heart she went, sensing its hostility to her presence and yet knowing she walked protected by her sixth sense. Then, so far in that she knew not where she was, the darkness showed her its soul. There, a lone figure stood. No face could she see, but she could feel his eyes on her. Somehow she knew him, but the feeling was so elusive that she could make no sense of it. And then he roared, a terrifying sound that made the ground upon which she stood quake. She clapped her hands over her ears and added her screams to his.

"Cheetara!" came an insistent voice. That, coupled with a rough shaking, made her open her eyes. Bengali was by her side, his hand on her shoulder and a look of concern on his face.

"You had me worried," he said. "You went blank and then you started yelling. Are you all right?"

She nodded feebly. "We aren't dead," she managed to get out. "We're being held as prisoners and--"

She would have told him more, but then a masculine voice boomed from the darkness and drowned out her words.

"Say not prisoners, Cheetara," said the unseen speaker. "For surely a prison would need walls and bars, and here there are none."

At the sound of his voice, the darkness began a slow crawl back. Their circle of light grew ever larger, illuminating an expanse of unremarkable floor on all sides and forcing the darkness to give up its secret and reveal the person whose voice they had heard. Finally, he stood before them, his body swathed in a long grey cloak that hinted at the powerful frame beneath. The hood was pulled back, leaving his head uncovered.

For a long time, all she was able to do was to stare at him. She knew him, with his full striped mane and piercing eyes in a face from Thundera's past, a face no one had ever thought to see again. Or to be more accurate, a face no one had ever wanted to see again. She knew him, yet could not believe it, and so she sat in stupefied silence until Bengali spoke and broke the spell.

"Tygra?" he said uncertainly. "Is… that… you?"

The question was met with a mocking laugh. "Have I been gone so long," the tiger said, "that you fail to recognise me, youngling?"

"Youngling?" Bengali spluttered. "What? I'm no young--"

Cheetara grabbed his arm and stopped him from rising to meet the other tiger's derision. He began to protest, but she held him back and gave a firm shake of her head.

"No, Ben, you don't understand."

"You're right," he said. "I don't. Who is this?"

"He's…" The name caught in her throat. Try as she might, she could not say it. It was impossible. It could not be him. He was dead. He was gone. And yet…

"What's the matter, Cheetara?" said this apparition. "You do know me, don't you?"

"Yes," she murmured. "But I can't believe you're here."

"Believe," he said. "I am returned and I have kept my promise to Thundera and her people. Deliverance is at hand. Soon, Thundera will be free."

"Free from what?" Bengali said. "Cheetara, who is this?"

At his bidding, she turned to face him. "His name is Tyree," she said. "He's Tygra's brother."

Bengali's mouth promptly fell open. The look he gave her suggested that he thought she was either jesting or had lost her wits. She held his eyes unwaveringly, silently convincing him of the truth of her words. After a moment's indecision, he shifted his gaze to the other tiger.

"Tyree?" he murmured. "You mean, Tyree? No, it can't be."

"It is," she said, although whether he had heard she was uncertain, for a mixture of emotions were racing across his face. He finally settled on glowing admiration and his eyes lit with an almost childish excitement.

"Wow!" he gasped. "This is so amazing! Tyree, here, now! I can't believe it. You're one of my heroes, d'you know that?" The thrill of the moment got the better of him, for he had continued with his excited babble before he received an answer. "Silly me, how could I forget? I remember it all now. I always wondered why Tygra looked familiar somehow. And he's your brother?"

"My younger twin actually," Tyree said.

"He never said. Did he tell you, Cheetara?"

"He mentioned it in passing," she said.

"Cagey son of gun," Bengali said. "Well, I am really impressed. Today is turning out to be not so bad after all. Not only have we been rescued, but who does our rescuer turn out to be? Only one of Thundera greatest heroes, that's all. Wait till we tell the others and…" He trailed off as a frown suddenly furrowed the lines of his brow. "Why wouldn't Tygra want to us know about you being his brother?" he asked.

Tyree snorted. "He was always jealous of me. I was everything he was not. Isn't that right, Cheetara?"

"I can't answer that," she said, meeting his gaze with defiance. "I don't know you well enough to make a comparison like that. But if you mean that he has the qualities you lack, then I thank Jaga that I count him amongst my friends and not you."

"Cheetara," Bengali said. "Hey, calm down. He rescued us, remember."

"Did he?" she retorted. "Why?"

He looked admiringly over at Tyree. "Because he's great. It's the sort of thing he would do."

"Well, I'm not buying it," she said. She got to her feet and faced him. "What is this place?" she demanded. "What do you want with us?"

Tyree's eyebrows rose a fraction. "So many questions," he said. "Where do I begin?"

"Why don't you start with what you're doing here after disappearing for all those years?"

"Ah, that," he murmured.

"Yes, that," she said. "And don't pretend you give a damn about Thundera. While you were away licking your wounds, our world died and thousands with it! Where were you then?"

"Dead," he answered bluntly. "Dead to a world that didn't care, that left me to rot on some gods-forsaken planet away from my home and family!" The suddenness and violence of his reaction stunned her into silence and he went on uninterrupted. "You ask me where I was? Ha! Why don't you ask your oh-so-perfect friend, Tygra? He knew. How could he not? He was my brother, my twin! Our lives began together. We shared a bond. I thought that would count for something. But no, how wrong I was! He knew where I was and he left me there!" An uneasy calm seemed to settle over him. His clenched fists slowly uncurled and the fire in his eye died a little. "Still," he said, "I will have justice."

"Justice for what?" Bengali ventured.

"Thirteen years in Thundrillium hell," Tyree replied. "When I left Thundera, it was with the promise that one day I would return with the peace our people cried out for. Perhaps I was naïve. I truly believed that the answer to ridding our world of the Mutant pestilence was out there somewhere. If anyone was going to find it, I would be the one." He bowed his head and sighed. "Instead I ran straight into the Mutants' clutches. For a while I was an amusement. When they tired of me, they clapped a Thundranium collar around my neck and sent me to the Thundrillium mines on a planet in the back of beyond. Do you know how slowly the days pass when your whole life is one endless round of work and misery? I lived every one of those days. Counted them in my sweat and blood. Watched myself waste away, little by little every day. But I had hope. They will come, I kept telling myself. The Code of Thundera must stand for something, even so far from home, I told myself. But it didn't. It took me a long time to realise that I had been abandoned. Inconvenient Tyree, left to his fate, denied loyalty, betrayed. What do you say to that, Cheetara?"

She had provoked him and now he dared her to push it further. Faced with his rage, however, she found her courage lacking and backed down.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you," she said. "But you weren't abandoned. No one knew."

"Someone knew!" he bellowed. "Someone told the Mutants exactly where I would be and when. My captors deigned to tell me that much, but not his name. I have my suspicions and I will have justice."

"Yes, you will," she said. "If it's true, Lion-O will see--"

"The cub?" Tyree snorted. "I don't think so. The Thundercats can keep their justice. I have my own."

So saying, he swept his arm wide. The darkness lifted, revealing the shape and size of the chamber in which they sat. Walls it had, but nothing like Cheetara had ever seen before. Solid yet opaque, trapped within them were Mutants of every species, including several of the snakes from the Serpentian ship, and all with the same expression of abject terror on their contorted faces.

Getting to his feet at her side, Bengali gave a low whistle. "Well, this is…"

"Horrible," she finished for him.

"No, Cheetara," said Tyree, "this is revenge." He wandered over to the nearest wall to admire his handiwork. "How they suffer," he said approvingly, "yet still not know the pain I bore over all those years. The pain of the heart, Cheetara, more devastating than that of the body."

"What… what is this?" she croaked, hardly able to find her voice.

He glanced over at her, almost seeming disappointed. "Come now, don't tell me you wished to see your tormentors thus many times? They would have killed you both, but for us."

"Us?" Bengali asked.

"My friends," Tyree replied, gesturing about him. "They call themselves the Erebii, but names are unimportant. To the Mutants, they are the Scourge, to Thundera they will be the deliverer."

"Oh, so they're on our side. I'm glad to hear that."

"They saved me," Tyree went on, ignoring the younger tiger's flippancy. "They freed me from my chains and healed my broken body." His steely gaze moved to Cheetara's face. "Surely you wondered who gave you back your speed, fast one?"

"I wondered," she answered him coolly. "What do we owe them for it?"

Tyree shook his head. "Nothing. They do what they do because they can, not because they expect rewards or even gratitude. There is nothing you could give them. They are all powerful. Nothing is beyond their reach, nothing… and no one," he added ominously.

"Where are they?" Bengali asked.

"All around you. They gave up their corporal forms many millennia ago. Now they exist as pure essence, free to take any form they desire. This and many things they have learnt over the years of their travels. Now they come to the aid of Thundera, to rid her of her enemies." Suddenly he held up his hand and silenced any questions they had. "We have visitors," he murmured, closing his eyes. "Forgive me, they must be dealt with."

With a small inclination of his head, he turned and swept away into the darkness that rose to meet him and enfold him in its embrace. Once more confined to the circle of light, Cheetara exchanged glances with Bengali and saw that he was just as uneasy about the situation as she was.

"Well…" he began. "What can I say? Tyree -- wow, what a guy!"

Cheetara shook her head. "He's no hero," she said. "He's insane."

"A bit odd, I'll give you that," Bengali said. "This thing with the Mutants is weird, but who cares?"

"You should," Cheetara retorted. "It's wrong. They're being tortured."

"It's only what they did to us."

"So that makes it right? No, it reduces us to their level."

"Maybe so, but I'm not arguing with them. If these friends of Tyree's are as powerful as he says, I'd rather have them on my side than not."

"If they are on our side," she said.

"But Tyree said--"

"Tyree isn't everything you think he is."

Bengali folded his arms and took on a slightly disgruntled expression. "I sensed your hostility earlier, Cheetara," he said. "Is it because he doesn't get on with Tygra?"

She was about to deliver a cutting remark, but stopped herself just in time. It would accomplish nothing, other than to make him think his assumption was right. Perhaps it was, she thought, but there was more to it than that. More that she knew personally from listening at the top of the stairs as Jaga confided his fears to her father about the unruly trainee he had taken under his wing. So she told him, told him about the exceptional son of the Leader of the House of Tigers who had flown so high so young, who was admired and feared in equal measure, about the rumours of unspeakable acts of cruelty that accompanied another successful defeat of their enemy, of the concerns the ageing Lord of the Thundercats had about this unruly prodigy. Like everyone else, she had worshipped the young hero in her tender years of inexperience and had felt outrage on his behalf to hear him slandered. Age against youth, it had seemed at the time, and a bitter old cat railing against the loss of his own vigour in the face of such startling brilliance.

But Tyree would triumph, she had told herself. With Claudus still without heirs and seemingly never likely to have them even with his young wife, a successor was sought. Who else should the people look to but the popular hero? Even with the approval of the masses, still she listened to their fears from her lofty place. 'Headstrong' and 'hot-tempered' were the words Jaga had used, terrible to hear, but not as much as the most damning accusation of all, that he wanted compassion in his actions. This, about the hero who had single-handedly plucked twenty cubs to safety from the burning wreckage of their school ship. The charge had rankled enough to make her leave her vantage point and storm down the stairs. She had said nothing, but from the look she gave them, she hoped they knew she had heard. From that day, never again had they spoken of the would-be heir to Thundera where she could hear. Whatever they had to say was done behind closed doors.

Life went on and the hero was praised ever higher. Until one day, one fateful day, when the royal proclamation had gone out that Claudus' wife was pregnant. From that day on, Tyree had been on borrowed time. Had the child been female, the Lordship of the Thundercats might still have been within his grasp. But with Lion-O's birth, his fate was sealed.

The difference one day had made. In that time, Tyree had gone from hero to liability. Thundera rejoiced for the legitimate heir and anguished over its fallen son. Would he simply step from the limelight, content to follow rather than to lead, people wondered. They waited and worried until finally Tyree provided his own answer. He would, he declared, as ever follow his own course. He would prove his worth to Thundera by finding a way to free the planet of the Mutant threat once and for all. A neat solution to a thorny problem. The pretender left, family honour intact, and never came back. Only the most optimistic held out any hope for his return.

With her tale at an end, Bengali still looked unconvinced. "So what you're telling me," he said, "is that Tyree was forced to leave? Well, no wonder he thinks someone betrayed him to the Mutants. Sounds like Jaga is a prime candidate, if you ask me."

Cheetara slowly shook her head, remembering the tears she had seen in the eyes of the old jaguar when he had come to visit her father on the day of Tyree's departure.

"Then who?" Bengali asked. "Unless you think…" He trailed off, his eyes growing wide, as the possibility struck him. "Tygra? Sounds like there was no love lost between them. What did he say about Tyree leaving?"

"I don't know," she said. "I wasn't a Thundercat then."

"But you must have talked about him."

She considered, wondering whether to tell him more. No, they had never talked about the twin who had eclipsed the other and destroyed his soul. The curiosity that had driven her to seek out the forgotten brother had grown over the years into a friendship that had sustained them both over many difficult years. It was a relationship built on an unspoken understanding. She had never directly questioned him about the brother he had lost and he had never volunteered any insight. Just once had she glimpsed his feelings, and then quite by chance. The one time he had uttered Tyree's name, he had attached to it a string of curses. She had been waiting for him to return from a summons from his father and his entrance had been so furious that she had not had time to speak. Instead, he had slammed his hands on the worktop and cursed his brother to hell and back. Then he turned, suddenly realising that he was not alone, and stared at her. In the second that passed, she had seen distress in his eyes, so raw it hurt to see it. He blinked and it was gone. The guard went back up and he carried on as normal. More importantly, he never referred to the incident again.

She had later learned that on that day his father had tried to persuade him to leave the Thundercats to take his brother's place in leading his people when the time came. Old Tygrean had not liked his son's refusal and had disowned him on the spot. Yet his bitterness had not been directed at his demanding parent, but rather at the absent heir. She was still undecided about whether it had been normal sibling jealousy or something deeper, a resentment almost at the brother whose leaving had placed him in the difficult situation of having to choose between family and friends, between the life he had chosen for himself and the life preordained for another. She had never asked, but she had always wondered.

She continued to hesitate, long enough for Bengali to sigh impatiently.

"Well, answer the youngling," came a voice from the darkness. Tyree appeared and stood before her, his eyes gleaming with pure maliciousness. "He did ask you a question, Cheetara."

She swallowed hard and tried not to think about how much of their conversation he had heard. "I-- don't know. He never said," she stammered.

"Of course he did," Tyree said mildly. "You would lie to protect him. Your loyalty does you credit, but it is ultimately wasted, for are you not as I, abandoned and betrayed?"

She was slow to find her voice and, before she could, Bengali spoke up.

"Well, I wouldn't say we were abandoned as such," he said. "We did make it pretty hard for them to find us. In fact, they're probably looking for us at this moment, so--"

"You fawning fool!" Tyree hissed. "You bore me. Get out of my sight!"

The reaction was immediate. At Tyree's words, the floor beneath his feet liquefied. Before Cheetara could step forward to help him, Bengali had been swallowed up. Where he had been stood, the floor became solid once more, sealing him in its grizzly interior. She could see him and the startled, frozen expression on his face. Desperately, she scrabbled at the smooth unyielding surface, but could make no impression on it.

"Let him go!" she yelled, turning on Tyree.

He waggled a finger at her disapprovingly. "Now, Cheetara, you know it doesn't work like that."

"Let him go now or I'll… I'll--"

Tyree's laugh smothered her words. "You'll do what?" he sneered. "This is my world, Cheetara. You'll do what I say or your friend will know the suffering of these cretinous Mutants."

He stared at her, daring her to ask the obvious question. He was right. Here, he did have the upper hand. She could only wonder that he was prepared to bargain with her at all.

"And… what is it you want?" she asked.

"You," he said. He must have seen the look in her eye for he smiled with evident amusement. "Not your body, dear, for although your charms are such as would influence so feeble a mind as my brother possesses, I crave from you something more." He knelt down beside her. She flinched as he raised his hand and brought it towards her face. Silent relief swept through her when he only tapped her forehead. "What I want is up here," he said. "Your sixth sense is quite remarkable. I can see why Jageena wants you dead."

Cheetara felt her mouth drop open. "You… you know about that? How?"

"I know many things. Over this past year, I have been returning to my old haunts and shadowing former friends and certain new interests, like you, for example. Oh, it has been quite an education, watching you, learning about you, discovering your fears, your loves, your enemies."

He let his gaze drift the length of her body, making her feel very uncomfortable. As his scrutiny continued, she plucked up the courage to shift away from him. Before she had got very far, however, he had grabbed the hem of dress and slowly pulled her back towards him.

"Where d'you think you're going?" he said, with his face only inches from hers. "When I've finished with you, then you can go." He relaxed his grip and let his hand slide up her arm to gently caress the side of her face. "So beautiful," he purred. "Wasted on that scrap Tanis. You weren't really going to marry him, were you? Not that you would have got the chance of course. Jageena had seen to that."

"Had?" she queried. "I don't--"

"Oh, Cheetara, surely you must have realised by now."

It hit her like a knife in the stomach that twisted and tore at her insides. The pain she had felt earlier, back and trebled in intensity. The shock of it brought her to her knees, doubled up in agony. She cried out, for she could not stop herself. And then it was over.

"What happened?" she murmured, looking up at Tyree in confusion.

"That was your condition when we found you," he explained. "You were hanging onto life by a thread. Frankly, it was a miracle you were alive at all."

"But what was it?"

"Acute peritonitis, blood poisoning -- take your pick. Curable of course, given time. We were, however, unable to restore that which had been lost." At her continued silence, he went on. "You know, it's quite remarkable what modern surgery can achieve today."

"What did they do to me?" she asked.

Tyree regarded her impassively. "On the night of your divestement, your beloved family drugged you, Cheetara. Then they had Jageena examine you. That much you know. What no one else knows, however, is that in that time, you had a little 'operation', shall we say. Your left ovary was removed and a particularly virulent bacteria injected into the other. The painkillers they left in your system dulled the pain while the infection set in. It also had the effect of smothering your sixth sense, so you had no way of knowing. Another half hour on the Serpentian ship and you would have been dead." He grunted. "And so the curse that beset your family claims another life. Funny, isn't it, how these old superstitions usually have a very rational explanation."

He continued talking, but Cheetara was past hearing him. The strange sensation when she had woken up the morning after, the loss of her psychic abilities, the terrible, crushing pain in her stomach -- now it all made sense.

Except why, and that she needed to know.

"I would have thought it was obvious," he said in answer to her question. "Jageena wants the powers back your people stole from hers. And I think she might actually be successful this time. She's pregnant with your child. Congratulations, Cheetara, you're going to be a mother or a father, I'm not sure which. Who can say in a case like this?"

He stared at her expectantly, waiting for a response. She was not sure what he wanted to hear. The horror of what had been done to her was too great. Words alone would not suffice. When she did open her mouth, all that came out was a wail that degenerated into bitter weeping. In her grief, she felt his arm slide around her shoulders.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" he whispered into her ear. "Betrayal, Cheetara, the worse crime of all. Where were your friends when you were being defiled by that witch? You were stripped of all you cared about and thrown to the wolves, Cheetara." Taking her by her arms, he made her look at him. "But we can have our revenge," he declared. "Help me."

"How?" she sobbed. "What can I do?"

"Your sixth sense. They fear you because of it. And one has more reason to fear than most." He tightened his grip and shook her slightly to stop her tears. "Someone betrayed me all those years ago, Cheetara. I want you to look back in time and find out who it was. I know you can. You have done so in the past. I read how you told your friends of the treachery of Grune. Now you will use it to uncover the treachery of another."

"No," she said, trying to break free of his hold. "I won't."

"Why?" he demanded.

"Because you're wrong."

"Or because you fear whom you will see?" He released his grip and pushed her away. "You know as well as I do who I mean. Who hated me, who feared me the most? Those with the most to lose if I stayed of course. Claudus and his family, Jaga, even my worthless wretch of a brother, although I doubt he had the spine for such work. He has his own punishment for his betrayal."

Something Tygra had said rose up from her memories, of a voice that tormented him day and night and sounded like…

"You're haunting him, aren't you?" she blurted. "You've been trying to make him think he's mad."

Tyree smiled with satisfaction. "He has been my little project. Something to keep me amused on those long Third Earth nights. And how easy it was. It wasn't long before I had him spinning lie after lie to hide his condition. I'll bet he can't even remember when it began. I have him completely under my control with this." The hand he withdrew from his sleeve held a small vial containing a colourless liquid. "I call it 'Immortality'. With this in your veins, you will never age, never fall ill, never die. Perfect for my little brother and his addictive personality, don't you think? I add a little of this to his drink from time to time. Although he doesn't know it, he is completely dependent on it. Without it, he is lost. Only when I allow him a dose does he return to what he considers a normal state."

"Why?" she cried. "He's your brother--"

"I have no brother," he growled. "He is a coward and will die a coward's death. With the dawning of a new day on Thundera, the end of his life begins. They will lock him away, Cheetara, far from the light and he will remain there for as long as it pleases me with no possibility of release. Even escape by death I will deny him!" His rage spent, the fury in his eyes softened and he turned to her with an almost benevolent expression. "And now for you, my little kindred spirit. To us is known the pain of dishonoured loyalty. You will help me…"

"No!" she yelled.

"Or I'll will add Bengali to our feeding stock," he went on. "Come now, don't look so shocked, Cheetara. All life needs energy, even the Erebii. They find our Mutant friends here so rewarding. Such life force and so very satisfying to drain."

"They're eating them?" she gasped.

"Sucking the life from them actually," he said. "To destroy them in one go would be such a waste, especially when a body can be regenerated. Hence our Mutant friends, finally making themselves useful for once in their miserable lives. The Erebii tell me that they have never experienced such unique life forces. In exchange for more of the same, they offered to help Thundera. Plun-darr will be destroyed and its noxious inhabitants with it."

"You're insane," she whispered.

At her insult, he merely laughed. "Insanity is merely a reflection of circumstance. Was Claudus insane when he took on the Mutants single-handed at the Battle of Silence Lake? Was Jaga insane when he piloted your shuttle to a planet thousands of miles from our destroyed home? Or was dear Lion-O, in facing Mumm-ra without the Sword of Omens during his Anointment Trials? And at night too, when everybody knows the powers of darkness are at their greatest? All three considered brave and honoured warriors for actions that were clearly insane at the time."

"What they did and what you're doing is different!"

"How, dear Cheetara? Have I not also been successful?" he said, motioning to the walls. "I said I would rid Thundera of the Mutant threat and I will. My way, there will be no humiliating peace settlements, no one sacrificed in the name of co-operation. My way, the Mutants will be destroyed and Thundera will rule the galaxy… once a few changes have been made, of course."

"Is that what this is all about?" she said angrily. "You go back with this 'solution' to all our problems and you expect to be welcomed with open arms? You will never rule Thundera. Lion-O is Lord of Thundera. He will see through you and your ambitions."

Tyree gave her a look of pity. "How little you know," he smirked. "Would that he had eyes to see! I leave the plotting of his downfall to others, although I can assure you that if I do have to dispose of him, I won't steal his life away bit by craven bit. I'll make sure he sees it coming and feels very death grasping for his accursed soul!"

To hear his words was to know he meant it. It also meant she could do nothing about it. By telling her, he had guaranteed that she would not be leaving this place. Whatever happened, she was in his power and it was terrifying. But if there was any chance she could persuade him otherwise, she had to try.

"What has Lion-O ever done to you?" she said.

His eyes took on a far-away look. "He was born," he replied softly. His gaze fell upon her and hardened. "And now for you," he said.

"I won't," she said defiantly. "I won't help you condemn my friends."

He snorted with contempt. "And yet you claim to have faith in them? Perhaps you are right. Jaga was hardly as pure as the driven snow, especially where you were concerned."

The comment took her aback. "What? I don't know what you mean."

"A scrap like you as a Thundercat?" he sneered. "Oh, you were his little golden girl. He always said you were special. I'm told he went to great lengths to secure your place in Cat's Lair."

"If you mean he encouraged me, then--"

"But was it your choice?" Tyree retorted. "Jaga knew what would happen to you if you got engaged. He told your father, frightened the old fool in sending you to Cat's Lair over the expectations of your House. I was never sure, but my guess is he intended to have you for himself. What you call encouragement, others would call grooming. I'll bet you would have done anything for him, wouldn't you? Even to his bed? I wonder. No doubt he was counting on your loyalty. After all, lightning struck once. Who's to say that you wouldn't have become pregnant with his child like your ancestor did? At least Jageena never made a pretence at liking you."

"Stop it!" she yelled. "I don't believe you!"

He grabbed her and brought her face close to his. "Then why were you, Cheetara, above much better Thundercats, chosen to accompany him on the Royal Flagship? My brother and Panthro I can understand. They had skills and intelligence. What did you have? Speed? What use is that in space? No, Cheetara, he was going to get you to Third Earth and take you for his wife. The two bloodlines united, a new dynasty with the combined psychic powers of both parents!"

"No, it's not true! Lion-O is our Lord. Jaga never disputed that. He saved us."

Tyree grinned nastily. "Oh, really? You never wondered why Lion-O aged so much in a suspension capsule which was supposed to stop him growing old. I'll bet Jaga saw to that. And when it was discovered, 'oh, what a tragedy! The heir to the throne of Thundera dead. What are we to do?' Who would have argued with the already confirmed Lord of the Thundercats? Not my spineless brother, that's for certain. And Panthro is so pathetically loyal it's sickening. No, my dear, you were saved by a quirk of fate." He sighed. "Yet still you doubt me. Well, the truth is in your hands, Cheetara. You alone have the power to see… if you dare."

"I dare," she said, "because I know you are wrong."

Giving him a defiant glare, she got to her feet. Closing her eyes to the outside world, she sought within herself the road once travelled. It stretched away from her, its length covered in gloom. She followed it, barely aware that her physical self was spinning so fast that time itself was unwinding for her. Past events peeled back, layer upon layer. Mumm-ra, a ship losing altitude, a planet dying and the people who died with it, a house, her father's house, and the staircase that wound up and up and a child peering through the banisters. Slowing, she let time move forward and sought enlightenment beyond her own sphere. Far into the desert she flew, carried on the wings of a ship heading towards a single pinprick of light in the darkness. At its destination, a reptilian waited and information was passed. Only when the informer turned did she see his face, younger then than the years he wore now, and then did she speak his name. And then did time move on again and he kissed her and told her he would go to her father that night, but the old cheetah's expression had been troubled and slipping from the house she saw him, his mission done.

She stopped abruptly and, momentum lost, she collapsed. Her strength gone, she could only sit and gasp for breath and know that Tyree had spoken the truth.

"No," she murmured. "How did I not see it?"

But Tyree was rapt in his own moment of triumph. "At last," he roared. "Vengeance will be mine! You saw him, Cheetara, you saw the traitor!"

She nodded. "Yes, it was Saturnus."

"Saturnus," he said slowly, mulling over the name. "You live still that I might have my revenge. Ha, the Evil Ones they say protect their own. But not for much longer!"

She watched him as he paced furiously back and forth, grinding one hand into the other, madness spewing forth with every word he spoke. She was exhausted, yet a little of her powers remained still, beckoning to her with promises of revelations new. She turned from them, not wishing to see more. But still they called, urging her to see something in the present. Intrigued, she followed their lead and stepped into a realm where a million voices spoke at once. Around her they swarmed, eyes without heads, voices without bodies, seemingly unaware of her presence. They moved freely, except for three who seemed trapped together. Drawing on her powers, she reached out to them and suddenly the mood changed. Hostility crackled in the air and she was thrown from their world. She opened her eyes, but she could see them still. Eyes in the walls, voices on the air. She blinked and rubbed her eyes and they were gone. All was as before, except now Tyree was staring down at her with such a look on his face that she was terrified to see it.

"What are they?" she cried, backing away from him.

"They said you were trouble, Cheetara. I tried to convince them you could be of use. We looked into your mind before you awoke. Your resistance impressed them."

"The dream," she murmured, remembering the terrors that had driven sleep from her mind.

"They wanted to know more. That is why you were allowed to live. Had you not been so inquisitive, I might have been able to convince them to allow you to stay. But now you are of no use to us."

"Because I know what they are…" She paused, understanding now what she had seen. "And what you are."

"Then you know what we will do," he said, as black tendrils crept from the corners of the room to cloak him in darkness and hide him from her sight. Then it moved in on her until she was trapped once more within a small circle of light. "Take this time to reflect on life, Cheetara," came his voice from the gloom, "for the next time we meet, yours will be at an end!"

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