Chapter One: The Black Panther is dead
Walk with me my son.
The young T'challa looked to his father, the wise king of Wakanda.
I will show you the secrets of our people, I will show you the way of the Black Panther.
T'challa rose in his bed, looking to the far end of the room.
"Father-" T'challa said stopping, then relaxing back to his bed.
T'challa knew his father had been dead many years, and he accepted the fact that what was done was done. But the dreams- the nightmares of his father's death lingered on.
"T'challa, late to rise I see." T'challa turned his head to his Mother, who entered the room gracefully.
"Mother." T'challa acknowledged.
"Why will you not talk to the people?" His Mother pleaded him, "They need the Black Panther again."
T'challa turned from his Mother, and stood from his bed. He paced across the room away from her.
"The people." T'challa repeated, "Why can they not see what their king needs?"
His Mother lowered her eyes.
"Oh, my son, I know a boy should not be without his father." She said, "It is a dreadful truth, but a truth it still remains."
"Mother, this doesn't have anything to do with that." T'challa said, "I can't help them anymore-!"
"Oh, but you can-!" His Mother said, "The Panther always helps."
T'challa frowned, and again turned from her.
"Not this time." T'challa said, "This time, he can only hurt those whom he loves. Don't ask me about the Panther again. I will not venture there again."
The Queen Mother, T'challa's Mother, looked at him with sad eyes.
"You will see the truth before the end." She said.
T'challa reached the door of his room.
"No." T'challa said firmly, "The Black Panther is dead."