A/N: To understand this completely, you only need to have read Morals. Legalities: Simba, Mufasa, Kiara, and Kovu are all copyrighted to Disney. Dingane, Sicwele, Asari, and Mpande are all Roger Byrum's characters, and are used with his permission. Roh'kash and Aiheu are John Burkitt and David Morris's characters, and are used with their permission. Fujo, Taraju, Akasare, Tumai, Taabu, Jadi, Uchu, Azl, Fela, Rahimu, and Mano are all my characters; none of them are to be used without my explicit permission, save for Mano, Rahimu, and Fela, whose names, not personalities, may be used by anyone. To use the characters themselves, permission must be asked.

As a last warning, some content is somewhat graphic (not sex, merely blood and guts). So if you're too squeamish, don't read this.

Purgatory

The way you experience death is completely based on how you die. It can be pleasant, like dying of old age. You simply feel like you're waking up from a long, restful sleep, with your body feeling ten years younger and as fit as can be because of the simple truth that it actually is. My experience wasn't quite that nice.

When I arrived in Heaven, I felt like my throat had been torn out. There is a very good reason for this.

It had been.

I arrived in Heaven, collapsing and grabbing for my throat. The malaiki in charge of new arrivals for that shift didn't bat an eye. This was undoubtedly normal for him. Or her. Let me explain about malaiki. They're . . . odd. They look like rejects from the gods' first attempts at animals. There is a great story behind this. They actually are, in one sense, rejects, though they are by no means the first animals created.

The gods couldn't agree on the one animal to be placed on the earth. The greater gods, the felines (i.e., when push comes to shove, the ones who get their way), all wanted the animal to resemble themselves. A malaiki has the head of a leopard, the torso of a cheetah, the mane and forelegs of a lion, and the hind legs and tail of a tiger (I had no idea what a tiger was until I got to Heaven. I'd never seen that much orange before). Each of the four animals have a paw to themselves, ending in something that looks . . . well, like I said, odd.

The malaiki, however, are perfect, but perfection doesn't prevent a smart mouth. The first smartass comment it is known to have made came when it was being created. The original was so tired of his body being changed over and over that he finally yelled out, "Well why don't you just give me wings while you're at it, too?" The gods turned to him, yelled, "Fine!" back, and gave him a wonderful pair of muscular air-beaters.

I finally noticed I had my throat back and stopped thrashing and slowly got to my feet, seeing if my throat actually was there with a paw. I looked up to see the malaiki sitting there patiently. It did absolutely nothing threatening, but I was absolutely frightened of it. They can be a very scary sight. They are perfect.

I thought my body was nicely toned, but I felt insignificant. The malaiki look like they're sculpted, and might as well be statues. They can sit perfectly still for years on end (or at least that's what they say, I never stuck around one long enough to see). They are magnificent creatures, their muscles rippling with the slightest move, their claws able to cut through literally anything if extended. They are taller than any living creature, and their size is magnified by the fact that they keep their wings almost fully extended, just slightly curled at the end, each wing seven feet in length. No exaggeration.

This was the animal that commanded me, in a voice that had no mercy in it at all, only compassion, "Come here."

I had never actually shaken with fear before. It's strange, because you know you're doing it, but you don't feel it. Your vision's a little jumpy, but other than that, it's just how you walk. The eyes of that malaiki never blinked as I walked toward it. I had no reason to fear it. But the malaiki have one strange quality: those that are condemned always fear them. Always. You know how I was classed.

But I don't want you getting any ideas about the malaiki. They are perfect. They don't have character flaws (although I might beg to differ with a few), and they are incapable of doing wrong. They love you, and their love leaves no room for mercy. That is the precise thing that made my time with Azl such a hell. The malaiki may not have flaws, but they can create a perfect replica of any flaw, such as pride or arrogance, even hate, the kind of hate that isn't pure. I'm telling you this so you won't judge Azl harshly, that he did only what he was ordered.

I walked before this malaiki and sat down, staring at its paws, ashamed to look at its perfect face. "Name?" it asked gently. I hesitated. I didn't know what to say. Then I drew strength from the clarity of realizing who I truly was, not who I was called.

"My name is Taraju."

The malaiki had a large rectangular object appear before it. The object was hundreds of thin white rectangles, held together by a clear, sparkling larger rectangle that covered three sides of the stack of white rectangles. The malaiki opened the object, going through the white rectangles. The white rectangles had squiggles on their front and back, some squiggles in front, the rest in black.

"T's," the malaiki muttered. It ran its digit down a column of squiggles. "Taraï, Tarain, Taraja. Here we are," it said in a louder voice. "Tara . . ." It stopped as it saw the name wasn't in gold or black, but red. "Hmm. See . . ." I stared at the red in horror for a moment before it was whisked away, the malaiki putting more white rectangles on top of it as it turned to its left in the object. It stopped as it muttered, "Alana . . . Akab, Akasan." It spoke the name I wanted to hear least of all. "Here we are. Akasare." It laughed. There was a single, solitary line of red on this page, too, the squiggles in three groups; a big one, a smaller one, then a big one.

I couldn't help myself. "What? What are you going to do to me?" I still hadn't looked up at the malaiki's face.

"Well, it's right there. Go ahead." It spun the floating object around one hundred eighty degrees so that I could see it. It meant nothing to me.

"I—I don't see anything."

"Oh, that's right. Newcomers can't read." It pointed at the red with a digit. "This is their little idea of fun. It says 'Akasare: see Taraju'. And over here," it said, extending a claw and sliding it under several thousand rectangles, then lifting it up with the pages. The first line of red was visible again—"it says 'Taraju: see Akasare'." I stared at the line, trying to see that. It still meant nothing. "It makes sure I ask my superiors."

"But—but what does it mean?"

"It means you have a very special opportunity."

"What?" I asked, looking up from the red line to the malaiki's face. I almost immediately looked away, looking only long enough for the malaiki to start the next sentence. I looked into the eyes, the eyes that seemed to stare right through me, see all about me.

"I can't tell you." It put a paw to my face after I jerked it down, slowly bringing it up. I felt powerless to resist. "Such a pretty face . . . and such nice eyes . . ." The malaiki traced a digit gently across my face, across the two scars that came close enough to count as one, the scars that met on the bridge of my nose. The malaiki dropped its paw. I slowly shifted my gaze down to its chest. "You did a very noble thing."

"Sir?" I said.

The chest moved in a small laugh. "I'm female," she said. I looked down, then looked back up at her face again to see a smile an instant before I turned away again. "Really." She sighed. "There's just no way to tell with us malaiki. Unless you know what to look for."

"What are you going to do to me?" I was very, very afraid.

My fear must have showed. "Nothing." Her voice was gentle, reassuring. I've called my superior, he'll tell me soon." She paused. "I've always wanted to ask this. Why do you fear me?"

"I—I don't know." I looked down at its paws. There was silence for some time. I have no idea how long it was.

"Well, you can go now."

"Go? Where?"

"Through there." I followed her waving paw to a rectangle of savannah, jutting out in the stark white of the place I was in. "Just walk through. Hopefully you'll call this home." I walked through with one last glance back to her smiling, perfect face. I didn't feel anything walking though to the savannah; no tingling, no rush of air. I just walked to it. I looked around, taking in my first glimpse of Heaven.

My eyes landed on two lions standing, their red manes full and proud. However, one wore his mane, the other's mane wore him. The second one's body, which in life had seemed so proud, so arrogant, was humiliated, his mane seeming to weigh him down. The other lion I hadn't seen for years. They came from separate parts of my life. One I remember with love and compassion. The other I killed. "Dingane?" I said incredulously.

The humiliated one blinked, obviously not pleased to see me. "Yes," he said.

"Taraju," the other one said gently. I stared at him, trying to place his face. It suddenly leapt into my head.

"Granddad?" Simba nodded. "Granddad!" I tackled him to the ground happily, laughing.

"Oof!" Granddad grunted. I got off. "You're not the cub you were." He looked up at me with a smile.

"Not at all," said Dingane bitterly. I turned to look at him. He was angry. His voice was too perfectly controlled. "Look at what little Aka grew up into. Added a T to the front of his name."

"I'm sorry for what I did!" I said. "I paid for it."

Dingane burst into laughter. It wasn't pleasant. By any stretch of the imagination. It was hysterical laughter, the laughter of an animal gone mad. "Paid for it?" he said, the insanity slipping into his voice. "You've paid nothing! Nothing!"

"Dingane," said Simba softly. There was compassion in his voice. He was sorry for Dingane.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up!" Dingane snarled. "You have no idea!"

"You—you deserve it."

"Do I? Do I?! No one deserves it! He killed me, and I wouldn't wish it on him. He deserves it much more than me! But he gets a free pass! And you think the gods are fair?"

"They are fair. Even if it hurts."

"Well let's see how much you keep that attitude with 'Sare."

"His name is Taraju."

"Which one did he go by when he killed me? Which name did he go by for his entire life?"

"My name is Taraju," I said coldly.

Dingane turned to me. "No one asked your filthy opinion."

"Dingane!" reprimanded Granddad.

"I didn't even ask to be here! They dragged me out here to see this! Just to gloat this in front of me! You know it!" Then, suddenly, surprising me completely, Dingane dropped his head and began to sob. "I want to go back . . . I want to go back . . ."

I stared at him, my mouth hanging open. Something very, very bad must have driven the proud lion I once knew to this pathetic, pitiful thing. I thanked the gods I had paid my debt, that I had repented, and I wouldn't have to go through that. I looked up at Simba, who stared at Dingane in pity. "Send him back," he said quietly. It's best. Just say to send him back."

Dingane looked up at me in fear. "No! Please! You have no idea! Please don't reject me, 'Sare. Have a heart." He was actually bowing to me, begging me not to send him away, when just seconds ago he had said he didn't want to be here.

"Go back," I said miserably. Another rectangle opened. Vines shot out, grabbing Dingane, who was trying to run. They pulled him back into the rectangle.

"Damn you, 'Sare!" His eyes were wide, desperate, pleading, even as he was dragged back into his personal hell. "Damn you!!"

I watched him disappear into the rectangle and kept staring even after the rectangle had disappeared. That had been horrible. I only saw Dingane one more time, and I'm not sure I actually saw him. He was just part of a crowd, a horrible, miserable crowd. I turned to Granddad. He was staring at me. "Why?" I asked.

"For what he did in life."

"What are they doing to him?"

"Unimaginable things. It—varies for every animal, I'm told. So they'll pay for the things that they did."

I looked back to the spot where Dingane had been. "He wasn't that bad of an animal. He couldn't have been that bad of an animal."

"You were worse," said Granddad matter-of-factly.

I couldn't bear to ask the question. I said hesitantly, "I'm glad I paid for it, then." Granddad looked away. It was all the answer I needed. "No . . ."

"I tried, Taraju. They allowed me to see you before . . . well, before you go."

"I can't believe this!" I yelled. I began to walk away, then turned angrily. "I paid! I didn't even know it was wrong! I was raised to kill!"

"I said the same thing. But the gods wouldn't hear me. They've already decided."

"Damn the gods! Damn them, you hear me?" I did not want to end up like Dingane. When someone entered Heaven, this was meant to be a happy occasion, with the family welcoming you. My only member got to tell me I had to go to Purgatory. "This isn't fair!"

"They shortened your sentence."

"There should be no sentence!"

"Please stop yelling." I quieted down. It was a habit. If I disturbed Granddad too much, Dad used to punish me. The punishments weren't big, but big enough to make an impression.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't be pissed. Just one."

"Let me explain the system. Everyone who does horrible things is put into Purgatory. However, if they correct it in life, go out of their way to change things, their sentence is destroyed."

"So I should have lived? I shouldn't have just thrown my life away? Is that what you're telling me?"

Granddad looked at the ground, ashamed. "It may have made a difference instead of you just sacrificing your life."

"Oh, for Aiheu's sake!" I walked away again, turned around again. "I gave myself up. Willingly. Doesn't that mean anything to their high-and-mighty asses?"

"They shortened your sentence because of it. That and your upbringing. You had no control over that cheetah that took you, you had no control over Dingane or Sicwele. You only have one hundred years because of it."

"One—one hundred years?" Dingane had only been gone three.

"That's life-years. Not death-years. Time flows differently here."

"How differently?"

"Sometimes it's just like you were alive. But the rest of the time . . . well, the land of the living slows down, compared to here."

"You're joking. Please tell me you're joking."

"I'm sorry. That hundred years . . . it could be a thousand."

One thousand years. One thousand years of pain, of torture, of insanity, of growing far, far worse than Dingane. "There has to be a way out," I whispered. "There has to be another way."

Granddad said, "There is. But I'm begging you not to take it."

"What?" I begged. "Tell me."

"You join Afriti. You give away your soul."

I was stunned. "But . . . but isn't Afriti where I'm going to?"

"No. You're going to Purgatory. Afriti resides in Hell. It's the only other option. The gods will either put you through Purgatory, or you'll choose to go to Afriti." He bit his lip. "But don't, Taraju. Please don't give into that."

I had heard of Hell from Sicwele. Aiheu hurt Afriti badly, right where it hurt most. In the heart. It was from the First Hurt that all the evil in the world finally came about, all from an accident, a little misunderstanding.

Afriti and Aiheu were the closest of all the gods, like brothers. More than that. Afriti created strong ties with a group of gods, and Aiheu with the rest. The groups didn't dislike each other, but they had their differences. Afriti and Aiheu were the connecting point, the ones who healed any differences. The gods, unlike the malaiki, are not fully perfect. They are now, but Afriti and his group weren't. At least, not in that sense.

Afriti and Aiheu were like night and day, two related but separate parts. Aiheu was good, kind, and loving. Afriti was as well, and so were the gods with Afriti, but only out of growing up that way. They all carried the seed of dissension (at least, that's what Sicwele called it. I'd call it EVIL, in nice big, capital letters like that). If they had been born (or the equivalent of being born, the record gets kind of sketchy here) on their own, they wouldn't have had the good of the other gods to rub off on them.

Afriti and the others were the Damned. They would never achieve true happiness; they would always want more. However, with the other gods around, all of these terrible things were suppressed. Then Aiheu hurt Afriti.

The gods competed. I would imagine it gets pretty boring up there, being holy all day, just talking for century after century after century after—you get the idea. And there are only so many animals that you can smite. So the gods competed. The competitions were always close. Afriti and Aiheu competed the least of all, however. Afriti tried to love Aiheu, and did the utmost to overcome those evil emotions. Afriti made an honest effort.

The two of them competed. Afriti made just as much of an effort as when trying to love, if not more. And Afriti usually won. But then Aiheu insulted Afriti when Afriti was bragging, telling Afriti the equivalent of something like "drop dead" playfully.

It was taken it the wrong way. Afriti was away from Aiheu for some time after that, and spent it thinking. From that one comment Afriti began to unravel, and began to see things in past conversations that weren't there. Afriti saw that no matter how much effort was given to make Aiheu proud, no matter how much Afriti loved him, Aiheu still thought little of Afriti.

Afriti told the others the conclusion of those thoughts. They, too began to see that their brothers and sisters despised them. Aiheu's group couldn't begin to understand hate, but it came to Afriti and the others naturally. The thoughts of their loved ones despising them hurt so much.

They left the gods, Afriti and all of the rejects, and created Hell. They no longer had the influence of the others, and their hatred and evil grew. Sicwele told me this when I was a cub. He assured me I wouldn't suffer, just as he wouldn't. His logic was that I was being forced into what I was doing; he openly told me that they were brainwashing me, in a way. He thought he had a justifiable reason. But I was going to suffer. Either that or I could join Afriti and the others.

"I'd never think of that," I told Granddad.

"You will. I'm begging you, don't go. Just—" Granddad suddenly stopped speaking, staring over my shoulder.

"You've told him more than enough, Son." I jumped, turning around to see another lion behind me. I had no idea who he was. He did look somewhat familiar, as if I had seen him before. I had. In me.

"Yes, Father," said Granddad. I suddenly realized that this was Mufasa. I had met his mate, but never him.

"You're my—great-grandfather?" I asked.

"Yes," Mufasa said to me, then to Simba, "Did you tell him about the job we have for him? Or the funeral?"

"Not yet."

Mufasa sighed. "The funeral will start soon."

"Good point." Granddad turned to me. "One right all animals have is to attend their funeral. If you really feel that you have to, you can appear to one other animal. To give them support." It was obvious who I would choose. My love. Tumai.

But a horrible thought struck me. It could only make her sorrow worse. To see visions of me, hallucinations, when I was dead and gone. I couldn't do that to her. I loved her. "Taraju," said Granddad's voice, cutting through my thoughts, "this is undoubtedly selfish, but we want to ask you to show yourself to Fujo."

"Why?"

"We—well, we can keep you out of Purgatory a little longer. About a month. With an extra five years on your sentence for each day."

"Anything," I begged.

"We want you to talk to Fujo," said Mufasa. "We want you to lead him to a place. The episode will take about five days. You will stay out a month with the wait. If you show yourself to Fujo now, he'll be used to the idea."

I was never brilliant at counting. I prayed my stupidity continued. "That's—that's one hundred fifty more years?"

"Yes. Actually, one hundred forty, given it takes only twenty-eight days, really," said Granddad.

"I'll do it," I said. Anything to put it off just a little longer.

A rectangle opened a short distance away. I saw the backs of lionesses in it. "Alright," said Mufasa. I walked through. I turned around to see Granddad and Mufasa staring at me through the rectangle before it suddenly shrank out of existence. I turned around to look at the den. It was morning. An entire day had passed. I found out later I had spent much more time staring into that malaiki's eyes than I thought. I'd spent almost the entire day in New Arrivals. It was a day since my death.

I walked around the circle of lionesses until I reached a gap where my parents were. I gasped. There was my body, in the center of the circle, looking as if I was asleep. My neck was a bloody mess, the only indication that I wasn't alright. I unconsciously rubbed my own neck, seeing it. I tore my eyes from my body and looked around the pride. They all had their heads bowed solemnly. They didn't cry for me.

Then I saw Fujo, his head bowed, eyes hidden by his mane. Then there was Tumai, right next to him, her sorrow obvious. Tears dripped from her face, a small puddle actually forming at her paws from the tears she had said. A puddle. I continued to look around the circle. There was Aunt 'Tani, crying silently. And then there was Mom and Dad, sitting together, Dad's foreleg around Mom as she wept into his chest. Dad didn't cry. It was obvious he wanted to. But he couldn't. He needed to be strong. I shook my head. He was still the detached lion he had been when I died, the one that couldn't commit himself out of the fear that his passion for violence that would rise up again, hurting others.

Then, amazing me, Fujo began to speak, still staring at the ground. "Taraju . . . you're gone now. You shouldn't be. You were better than that. You deserved to live, no matter what you thought. I only knew you for a few short hours but . . . but you were a good lion. A kindhearted lion. And I loved you. You told us all what you did, you didn't hide it in a back corner." Tears began to drip to the floor, yet his voice remained steady. "We needed you, Taraju. You brought us order. For a few wonderful hours everything was fine. No worries at all. And—and then you did the noblest thing I've ever seen. I just can't help but think that if you had just stayed . . . if I had gone instead of you on that horrible raid, that the kingdom would have been a much happier place. We . . . we miss you, Taraju. We just hope that we'll carry on, like you would have—would have wanted us to . . ." Then, quietly, in a whisper, "I miss you, brother."

I was moved. It wasn't especially eloquent, but it was—heartfelt. Then Dad said, his voice wavering, "It's cruel, for him to have been reunited with us, only to be take away so soon." A tear slid down his face, followed by another. He will be remembered, not only as a killer, but as the just lion he came to be." I smiled. Maybe he had changed. Maybe.

I looked around the den again. I wouldn't ever call it home again. I looked at Fujo. He seemed to glance over my face, then suddenly snap back to it. I gave him a warm smile. Then he did something that really hurt. He tried to show me to Tumai. She didn't see me at all. I just shook my head. No, Fujo, she can't. I took one last look around the den before I smiled at Fujo again, the den dissolving away. I was back in Heaven. I looked over at Granddad and Mufasa. They smiled.

"Come on," said Granddad. "There's a few relatives I want you to meet."

oOo

I spent my time in Heaven savoring every moment. I couldn't think about Purgatory. I had fun, lots of fun. I spent it all with Granddad and Mufasa, really. Them and malaiki. The malaiki were the best; the were always there when you needed anything. It was actually their job to wait on us, I'm told. Nevertheless, they still scared me. I couldn't stop thinking of those claws, and those teeth . . . gods.

But then the day finally came. I'd finished my job. Fujo had met Taabu. When Granddad and I arrived in Heaven, there was a malaiki waiting. Needless to say, fear overwhelmed me. "I'm here to escort the prisoner, sir," the malaiki said.

Granddad nodded. He turned to me, placed a paw on my shoulder. "Be well, Taraju. And please, don't give in. Don't break. You're better than that." I hung my head. "We love you."

"If you please, sir," said the malaiki respectfully to Granddad. Granddad stepped back, a rectangle opened, the only thing on the other side being a dark abyss. "In you go," said the malaiki, not rudely, but with none of the respect he had shown Granddad. I walked through. I turned around to see that the rectangle had already disappeared. I didn't get a last look at Granddad. I didn't see anyone I loved for years.

I looked around my new home. It was black, and the walls, if there were any, seemed to be a million miles away and appeared to have smoke swirling inside them. The place where I stood was lit, along with a decent portion of the area around me, but by no apparent light source. I'd noticed the gods tend to like these kinds of places, places where you can't accurately judge distance or depth. I tried walking around. It seemed to do no good. Nothing seemed any close, on any farther away. The light never moved from being around me, no matter how much I moved. I sat down, then lied down. I couldn't tell how long I waited. Time was an illusion here. I fell asleep.

When I woke, a set of four massive, different paws was in front of my nose. I looked up the massively muscular and extremely well-toned forelegs, up past the black mane, up to the leopard head. The malaiki's violet eyes stared at me. "Good evening," it said. "My name is Azl, and I will be your malaiki for this evening."

I sat up, looking up and down Azl. My month in Heaven had shown me that malaiki weren't the same. They were very nearly exact, though. But the way they talked and held themselves separated them by worlds. Azl was, and still is, the most impressive malaiki I had seen. He was arrogant, to a very, very small degree. It was more like pride. But he had a right to be proud.

"My—my malaiki for this evening?" I asked.

"Yes. As well as the next fifty-one thousand, ninety-nine evenings, mornings, and days. I think we'll get to know each other very well."

I didn't like his tone, or the smile on his face. But I had nothing to worry about. Malaiki were good creatures. They would never hurt anyone. "Are you—male? Or female?"

His smile twitched. "Male," he said in a slightly amused voice. A rectangular object, just like the one the first malaiki I had seen had, appeared. "As long as we're talking," he said, flipping through the floating object, "why don't you sign the record to make sure you're present and accounted for?" He finally stopped tuning the white rectangles, and stopped with one rectangle that was completely blank, and the rectangle opposite with a large, red spot on it that looked like—but no, it couldn't be—

Azl whipped his claws across my neck, eliciting a scream from me. It had nearly severed my head from my body. As it was, it flopped lifelessly, me feeling the pain. I screamed. I don't know how, but I screamed bloody murder. Azl took one of my paws, cut it off with his claws, and placed it in the endless fountain of blood from my neck, coming in spurts as my heart continued to pump. He took the bloody paw and placed it in the object, leaving a perfect imprint, with no run-over or any spots missing. It was my exact pawprint. My body was suddenly whole again, me sitting in front of Azl. I stopped screaming, but my mind still staggered with the amount of pain I had gone through.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked, his voice caring, gentle. "See? All better."

"Don't do that again," I said, my chest still heaving. "Don't."

"That? That's just a one time process for the records. But you know what? Now I just feel bad. How about some food? You want some food?"

He controlled his voice and movement perfectly. He seemed to care to no end. But it was much, much less than a malaiki should have cared. I didn't notice his flawless act. I suddenly found myself noticing the slight hunger pangs in my stomach. "Yes," I said uncertainly. I was understandably wary of the animal who had just sliced me open.

Azl waved his paw. A long line of carcasses appeared; juicy, fat carcasses, each one obviously fresh. I looked up at Azl. His wings beat slightly as he said, "What? Go ahead. I'm not stopping you." The hunger pangs suddenly shot through my body, increasing for a split second. I dug into the first carcass eagerly. Azl took a bone from the second carcass, the wonderful meat dripping blood. Some of it dripped from the bone that was held casually between two digits onto his paw, which I realized, looking up for a split second, still had my blood on it. He began to like all of the blood off, mine included. I was nauseated. I looked away, all nausea forgotten as I stared back down at the carcass. I dug in, devouring the meat.

After I finished the first carcass, I ate the second. Azl sat, staring at me, obviously bored, taking an occasional bite out of his meat. If he finished, the bone simply refilled itself. The same appeared to happen for the carcasses. As soon as I stripped one clean, it was moved, and another completely fresh one put in its place. I ate carcass after carcass after carcass, Azl sitting and watching. Then the last carcass disappeared down my gullet and was shunted off to nothingness. I continued looking down, waiting for another carcass to come to assuage my ravenous hunger. I stared down where the line of carcasses had been when I had been eating.

They were gone.

I looked up at Azl. He was finishing off the last bits of his bone. He swallowed and said, "My, you must have been hungry. All that meat in that little body." He tossed the bone casually down. I could see the gristle that he had so carelessly left on it. I pounced on it, the bone disappearing. I looked back up at Azl. He was smiling. "There. Doesn't that hunger feel better?"

I stared at his face in disbelief. I realized suddenly what you must have already figured out. Azl, Azl the good, kind, benevolent malaiki, Azl wasn't here to guide me safely through Purgatory. He was here to give me hell. I felt as if my stomach was eating itself away. My hunger was indescribably painful. And he sat there, knowing how it grew with each mouthful of meat, with that sadistic smile on his face. His apparent schadenfreude knew no bounds. I couldn't believe this. Malaiki were the kindest creatures I knew, and he was doing this to me. Needless to say, with all of these revelations came unspeakable anger. I leapt up at him, ready to kill him before he did anything else.

He hit me out of the air casually, on my torso. My body felt as if a thousand rocks had suddenly rained down on it as I flew to the side with his causal blow. The pain was overwhelming. I landed with a horrible crack, undoubtedly more bones breaking. I spit out all the blood that had suddenly rushed to my mouth. He walked over to me, looking down at me and shaking his head. "Fool."

He pressed a paw down onto my head. I felt every bit as my skull fractured into thousands of pieces under his effortless effort, the pieces of it ramming into my brain. I couldn't scream. And then something worse happened. I couldn't see. Darkness descended upon my eyes. I heard his laughter as my body squirmed, trying to get out from underneath his paw.

Then, suddenly, I was fine. I was sitting up, perfectly fine, with him in front of me. The horrible episode played itself out in my head again. I should have been dead. I shouldn't have felt that pain. No one should have felt that pain. But I had already died.

My thoughts were interrupted as my neck was grabbed by Azl's paw. He lifted me into the air so my face was level with his. He wasn't strangling me; I could breathe freely, despite the enormous amount of pressure on my windpipe. "Now what have we learned?" he asked. "Azl is the boss. Azl makes all the decisions, and we don't cross Azl. Do we understand?"

"You'll just do it anyway," I said. "You'll torture me anyway, you son of a bitch."

Azl smiled. "Well, you've learned something."

"You'll never break me," I whispered fiercely.

Azl laughed, laughed long and cruelly and mercilessly. "I won't break you? I won't break you?" He laughed again. "I have gone through hundreds of animals. And I have broken every single one." He tossed me to the ground. "You are no different."

"I am unique," I said. I would not end up like Dingane. I would not go insane.

"You'll be broken all the same." He leaned close to me. "And not just broken. Shattered into thousands of pieces. You will regret being born." I hated his smile, this truthfulness with which he spoke. "There is no escape. There is no time limit. You have all eternity. All eternity to suffer like the damned beast you are."

Damned to an eternity of hell . . . I knew he had to be lying. "The gods would never allow it," I said desperately. "They know I paid."

He sat back and smiled at me without any pity or remorse. "You paid nothing. You gave Mvushi what he deserved. You didn't give yourself up. You ran to him and begged him to kill you because you couldn't live with yourself. You're a coward, and you know it. You could have chosen to die any other way, but you just couldn't face any other death, could you?" He began to circle me. "You could have jumped from Pride Rock. You could have drowned yourself. You could have starved yourself. You could have thrown yourself into the Outlands and let yourself die." He shook his head, his smile growing wider. "You're a coward. And you have no idea what you'll go through."

"You—you're good. You're a malaiki. You won't do this."

His smile grew still wider as he drew back a paw and hit me across my muzzle. I was lifted from the ground, my neck breaking as my head was turned completely around. I had never seen it, but I had heard of animals that had their necks snapped and lived. You could feel nothing. I felt everything. You have no idea. Half my bones felt like they were broken from the impact of hitting the ground, and my neck—oh, gods, my neck. I tried to scream and felt vertebrae puncture my throat. I saw his face come into my line of vision, grinning evilly.

"I will do this." He grabbed me by my neck again, my body still breathing, despite the snapped neck, despite the torn throat. "And there is no escape." My eyes streamed with tears. "You will die so many, many horrible deaths. And all for my pleasure. But that's just the beginning." He dropped me again. "I'll leave you to think your situation over." He left through a rectangle, leaving me on the floor writhing in agony. I prayed for my body to go back to normal. It didn't until he returned.

And when he returned, the torture continued. He would leave occasionally, letting me lie on the ground of that dark place, screaming in pain. I honestly don't recall one minute of his torture where I wasn't in physical pain, not in this part. The worse torture came later. He worked up the pressure. He explained his reasoning to me, saying that you can only feel so much physical pain. "But mental anguish has no bounds." He would make me regret my life as well as my death.

But he didn't do that in the beginning. He subjected me to every physical pain and torture you can imagine. He made me die deaths no animal should have to go through, let alone live through again and again. It was here that I learned why they had the expression of "salting the wound." I had never seen salt. Not before he conjured up a pile of it.

Then I forgot all about the pile of salt as my body caught fire, horrible, burning fire, with him sitting there, occasionally twitching his tail in amusement. It didn't burn enough to burn the nerves, it simply burned enough to make me feel the horrible, horrible pain. My fur wasn't just singed, it was burned off my body completely. My flesh was massacred in the holocaust, the flames burning the blood vessels shut, stopping the flow of blood.

He watched as I rolled on the floor, screaming, trying to put out the flames. They finally disappeared. I continued to writhe on the floor, screaming. There is a sad fact: you get used to pain. After at least hours, probably days, the burnt flesh became somewhat bearable, so long as I stayed on the floor and didn't move. But that wasn't good enough for Azl; it wasn't good enough to have watched me burn. Most malaiki would have been content with letting me burn. Some malaiki would have done what Azl did; burn me, but stop the flames before they burned too deep so I could feel it. Few malaiki would have done what he did next.

Azl, having sat completely still while I rolled on the floor, writhing in pain, Azl, who had been as silent and still as a statue, Azl stretched out a paw to the pile of salt. He took as much as he could in one paw and spread the grains over my body. I screamed and began rolling again, trying to get it off. Azl took another pawful and rubbed it into my stomach vigorously. I don't know how long the torture lasted, with him putting the salt on my body, feeling it work its way into the body like a poison. He finally stopped and let me continue to scream on the floor, me pushing it further and further in with my every movement.

It finally stopped. I sat on the floor as if nothing had happened, as if I had always been sitting. I had possibly one second's sweet relief before he plunged me into another nightmare, one second for the endless amount of time I had spent burning and rolling and screaming. That one second made it so much worse. One second between those nightmares, emphasizing what was relief compared to what was pain. I went from one torture to another.

Drowning in a cave full of water, having it slowly fill up as I tried desperately to stay above the water, only to have it finally go over my head, myself drowning as Azl floated next to me, perfectly fine.

Being dragged, screaming, clawing at the ground furiously for a hold as I was dragged, tail first, into a pool of acid, with Azl sitting there, watching as my body slowly burned away as it touched the surface.

Falling, screaming, grabbing at the air for a wall or vine that wasn't there, watching as my death rushed forward to me, multiple times, each time with the same result: impalement, but not death, as Azl sat between the sharp rocks and grinned.

Being slowly stretched apart, feeling my forelegs pop out of their sockets while my hind legs broke under the impetus of an invisible force which tore further and further at my body, tearing my legs and head from my torso.

Having Azl slowly and painfully rip my flesh from my body, watching him swallow it, blood dripping down his muzzle as he declared that it was so good, that it was the best he'd ever tasted.

Being tossed into a scorching desert, with no food, no water, only with searing heat and Azl as my constant companions as my body dried up, the moisture sapped from even my blood as I slowly withered under the merciless sun.

Azl sat there, smiling the entire time, smiling a vicious, bloodthirsty smile that could have just as easily been on my face at one time in my life. I don't remember all the ways I "died." I've remembered enough to still have nightmares nearly every night. I "died" over and over in horrible ways. I suffered after the death, feeling what no one should feel. Death is a wonderful release from pain. I never felt death. Only more and more pain, intolerable pain.

I didn't go mad from the pain. That came later.

Occasionally Azl left, as I mentioned, leaving me there, suffering. And when he came back, he'd still continue, either with the same torture, right where he left off, or start a new one. And each time he switched, he gave me that horrible second of relief. Then, one time, it went beyond a second. I sat in front of him, my head hanging, my chest heaving, waiting for him to begin again. I still held onto the hope that someone would stop this. Granddad, or Mufasa, someone would free me from what had undoubtedly been millennia of torture. I hadn't broken.

But I sat there waiting. His face was blank. The seconds ticked by. I finally shouted, "Do it already! Do it!" He smiled. "Damn you, do it!"

He laughed that long, merciless laugh of his. "No."

"Gods damn you!"

"The gods made me."

"Damn you, start again! Don't leave me waiting like this!"

His smile grew wider. "Don't you enjoy it? The relief?"

"The suspense!"

He laughed. "Yes. You just don't know when I'll decide to strangle you, or crush you, or tear you apart bit by bit." As he listed off each item it was done to me. Then I sat in front of him again, fine. He lashed out at me with a set of claws. I recoiled from the blow that never fell. He laughed. I opened my eyes to see him sitting there, all four paws on the ground. "Look what you've turned into."

It was true. There was a time when I would have stood my ground, when I would have attempted to block the blow, no matter how useless it would have been. But Azl had reduced me to this, a monster that Dingane and Sicwele had told me again and again they never wanted to seem me turn into, a horrible monster: a coward.

"Damn it, stop laughing! Don't you have any sympathy? Don't you even have a heart?!"

"Wait, wait!" Azl put a paw to his tear duct and pressed hard against it. He drew his paw away, looked at it, and held it out to me. "There you go. A tear. And it's a real one!"

"You stupid son of a bitch!" I leapt at him.

He caught me by the neck with a paw. He sighed. "We just haven't learned, have we?" He pinned me to the ground by my neck and placed his other paw on my neck as well. I struggled, trying to get out of his unbreakable grasp. He began to beat his wings. We soared into the air, our heads to the sky, my feet struggling madly for ground. "We don't mess with Azl." My body was pressed against his by the air rushing by. I wrapped my legs around him and sank my claws into his body. He dropped one paw from my neck and brought the other up to his face's level, along with my head. My claws retracted, feeling as if they were going to break off as he moved my body up. They hadn't even scratched him.

I sank my claws into his back again from my new vantage point. His eyes lit up as his face seemed to be possessed by an even more maniacal grin than before. He bit into my neck. I screamed with pain. He burrowed hungrily into the place where my neck met my torso. He finally took his head away, my blood over his muzzle, his violet eyes screaming for more. I felt my injury heal over as he suddenly arched his head backward. Our bodies followed. We spun over and over vertically in the air in the air in a circle, gaining speed. I heard his frantic, excited breathing as we went faster and faster. He finally tossed me to the ground as hard as he could.

We were very high up. Even with the force of his throw, my fall to the ground must have taken at least half a minute. I screamed every inch of the way. Every bone in my body broke when I hit. Of course, I lived to feel the shards pierce my organs, plunge into my brain, and jut out through my skin. Then all of my injuries were miraculously healed once again, but instead of sitting again, I was lying down. Then Azl landed, making the ground shake, and let out a tremendous roar.

Nothing he did has ever scared me as much as he did, right there. Malaiki are able to become irrational beasts, just like us when we feel too much emotion. We go out of control. So do they. But it is infinitely scarier. Every single claw comes out, all of their teeth are bared, their wings are fully spread, and it is quite obvious to anyone that they will use every part of their five-foot-high-at-the-shoulder bodies to destroy you utterly. This was the thing that advanced on me, its tongue licking its muzzle clean of my blood, the taste only egging it on for more.

"Azl," I begged, scooting back, "Azl, please!" I was so very, very scared. My pleas were useless. It continued to advance. Azl wasn't there to appeal to. This thing simply wanted me. I believe I've made it clear that it scared the complete hell out of me.

I curled up into a little ball, absolutely overwrought with fear. I looked up to see Azl's slavering jaws over my body. He threw his head back. I screamed. He brought it partway down, then suddenly stopped. He blinked, seeming to regain control of himself. I suppose he did. The entire thing came that close.

He looked down at me and sighed. "What a shame." He got off of me. "You wouldn't believe what you were about to go through. We must try that again some time." I still hadn't moved. He shook me gently. Gently. If this was a trick, this was a cruel one indeed. "Snap out of it." I slowly got to my feet.

"I'm . . . free?" I dared to ask.

He laughed. "Not by any stretch of the imagination. But this is . . . a chance to be free." A rectangle opened, myself barely being able to tell the difference between the darkness of the rectangle and the darkness of my prison. I walked through it slowly. Azl followed me.

He told me later what he was going to have done to me, and how ashamed he was to have lost control. I don't know which scares me more, having him over me, his claws and wings extended and teeth and teeth bared, or what he would have done. You see, my claws had triggered a reflex that was very, very specific to malaiki, right there in the back where I had dug in my claws. The reflex is always, always followed by the act. Azl wasn't going to kill me. No, no. Azl was going to do something far more disturbing.

Azl was going to try to mate with me.

oOo

I walked through the rectangle to find myself in one wall of a large gorge. The walls of the gorge sloped down, almost like a valley, but still being too steep to be called one. The walls curved to meet off in the distance, creating a sort of semicircle out of the gorge. I was pretty high up. The ledge I was on gave me plenty of room, though, even after Azl had come and sat down next to me. The place itself didn't shock me. It was the lighting that it had. It seemed like all of the color had been sucked out of that forsaken place. Even I was paler, my black mane appearing to go even darker, my tan legs seeming to be infused with a shade of gray.

I looked up at Azl. His color hadn't faded in the least. For some odd reason, I felt proud of him. His face didn't have the manic grin I had seen pasted on it so many times. His expression was solemn, maybe even sad. "Why did you bring me here?" I asked him.

"I was ordered to. Once every decade you'll come here."

"What is this place?"

"The beginning of the Black Line."

"The Black Line?"

"Yes. Where Afriti collects Hell's souls." I looked around me. I wasn't alone. On thousands of other ledges animals sat or stood, each with a malaiki by their side. Even as I looked, more animals appeared. They filled the gorge, they filled the ledges below me and went on to the ledges above. They all had varying states of the same haunted expression, the expression making it obvious who had stayed here longest. As the expression became more and more severe, the number of animals wearing it became fewer and fewer. Very, very few had been here in Purgatory longer than ten years, having left long ago for a horrible fate. I knew that I wore that same face, and I knew they were in my position, where they begged for release of pain.

"Why did you bring me?" I asked again.

"I was ordered. You have a choice. You can leave. Or you can stay. The First will be here soon. You'll have to hear it from him."

"The First?"

"Just wait for him to come."

I sat down. From what I understood, it could take some time. There was a very, very slight hum of conversation as the other prisoners conversed with their malaiki in deadly serious tones. Every ledge was filled, as far as I could see. There had to be at least some that were empty, though.

My head turned with all the others as a lion came walking through the mouth of the gorge. I stared at him, stunned. Somehow I could make out his every detail, even from my high perch. I knew the others must have, too. But what shocked me most was that that lion could have been—me. I saw him lift his tan face up, the face that was surrounded by thick, black mane. I stared into the emerald-green eyes, amazed at the similarity. Then he began to speak, and I didn't pay attention to how he looked. Only the words.

"Animals! Listen to me. I have come to give you your freedom. You know that you deserve it. You do not deserve to stay here and go through this agony. You are better than that. You are more than that. I know what you are going through. I, too, have suffered at the paws of these monsters, these demons called malaiki. You have been told, undoubtedly, that they are good creatures, kind creatures, and are only capable of love. My fellow sufferers, this is not love. All of you know what love is, even if it is the smallest amount. All of you know what love is, even if it is the smallest amount. You know that love does not torture and maim and kill. Love is pure and good. These creatures—what they give is not love. It is all the things that love brings. Jealousy, and misery, and pain, and suffering. These creatures do not love you. They have never loved you. For love is a myth.

"There is no love in the world! There is no love. The gods hoard it to themselves. And yet, they have allowed other animals to discover it, to revel in it. I know you all have been hurt, all of you hurt dearly by one you thought loved you. If you do not think so, look deeper. It is there. How even the most 'loving' of animals had deceived you, how they have manipulated you and controlled you for what they want. And you have seen it! How they have slipped and let down their mirage of love. If they loved you, where are they now? Now, when you suffer endlessly, all for the amusement of the malaiki. They hoard it like the selfish beasts they are. You may beg, you may grovel, but you will never know love.

"I offer you more than love. I offer you a place with Afriti. I offer you a reservation in Hell. And I offer you hate. Black hate, malicious hate, hate which you all know. You feel it right now. Look to your side and tell me you do not! Look at these heartless monsters the gods keep as pets! You were thrown to them with no say, all because you have yourself a chance at what you desired. At what you deserved! I know how you hate them. How you wish it was you who could tear their insides out, you who could watch them die, you who would laugh as you destroyed their will, you who left them as a shadow of an animal, YOU, not them. You deserve that chance.

"Brothers, sisters, Afriti gives you that chance. Afriti offers you hate, hate stronger than any love that could ever be produced, an ever-flowing fountain of hate that will be shared, unlike the gods and their love. Infinitely better than the gods and their love. Love can be tainted, love can be turned black and sour, but hate can not be touched! Afriti saved me from my torture; I begged for relief and was answered. Afriti now answers you, with pure hate and evil. Follow me! Follow me to Afriti, give up your soul, and Afriti will give you all you desire. A chance to be free from this torment, a chance to destroy these creatures when the time comes, when we will make them suffer for the things that they have done to us! Brothers! Sisters! You have nothing left here for you. Come with me. Join Afriti. You will be free."

His words were hypnotizing. His words echoed around the gorge. Then a leopard broke the spell, walking down to the First. He stood before the First. The First spoke to him, and the leopard sat, waiting. Other animals came. I watched as they walked down to the First, taking his offer. The First turned and exited the gorge, followed by the other animals in a long, single-file line. I watched as they left, following him beyond the must just outside the gorge. More walked to join the line. Some passed right by me. Some walked defiantly down to the line, certain in their path. Others went hesitantly, a few stopping and turning back, then almost immediately turning back to the First and his group. No one who left their ledge returned.

I didn't know what to do. Freedom was just below me. I could leave and never, ever come back. I could say goodbye to Azl and my prison. I would never be tortured again. But Granddad . . . Granddad had warned me about this. He had asked me not to go. He loved me. But what was love to him? The First spoke the truth. Why wasn't he here, suffering with me, or in my place. He had simply argued for me, then given up. He had no idea what hell I went through. But still . . . he had reduced my sentence, hadn't he?

I turned to Azl and asked him, "How long is my sentence? Really?"

"Two hundred forty years." His face was absolutely straight and serious.

I was taken aback by his honesty. I didn't know the malaiki were required to be honest here, and forced to undo whatever damage had been done to their charges so they could reason clearly, think clearly. "How many do I have left?" I dared to ask.

"Two hundred thirty six."

"I've been here four years?"

"Yes."

"Just four?"

"Only four. Four life-years, that is."

I four years I had gone through all of that torture. And I had so much more to go. It would only get worse, I knew that. But in Hell . . . it suddenly struck me that I had no idea what Hell was like. I turned to Azl again and asked, "What should I do?"

"I'm sorry?" he asked politely.

"Should I go?"

"I'm not supposed to influence you."

"Please. I want to know." He didn't answer. "What would you do if you were me?"

Azl paused, looking down. "Afriti would treat you well," he said. "You would be rewarded. The others not so much, but you—you're what Afriti wants. A killer. Someone who cares only for themselves. Someone who won't let themselves be hurt by emotion. Hell might even welcome you into its own, private den."

Oh, gods, it was tempting. "I gave that up. I changed. He wouldn't want me."

"Afriti'd strip away the goodness. Everything that made you you he'd destroy, any quirks that were displeasing. Afriti might leave you whole, if you didn't show too much kindness. But you would still be corrupted into Hell's way of thinking. You'd turn more heartless than you ever were in life."

That was all. I'd just see things in a slightly different—and possibly better—light. I walked to the edge of the ledge, staring at the still-growing line. It was an escape. It was my escape. "But what would you do?" I suddenly asked. "You never answered my question."

Azl paused, hesitating to tell me. "I'd stay."

"Why?"

"For Tumai."

His words hit me like one of his blows. I had nearly forgotten about her. If I left, I would never see her again, not until Afriti decided it was time to destroy Aiheu. And then I would only try to kill her, to leave her body mangled. I would never do that. The First was wrong. There was such a thing as love. I loved Tumai, and she loved me. I wouldn't leave her. Not while she loved me.

"No," I said. "Take me back. I want to go back."

"I can't," Azl said simply. "We have to wait for all of them. You have to just sit . . . and watch . . ." I honestly saw his eyes tear over. "Poor souls."

I sat. I waited. The line continued to grow. Animals continued to make their decisions and join Afriti. I don't know how long the long, slow procession took. It took days, or at least it seemed to. Finally the last of that black parade ended. Then a cheetah, a poor little girl who couldn't have been more than two suddenly shot down the side of the gorge. "Mommy! Daddy!" she yelled. "Wait for me!"

"How did she get in here?" asked Azl out loud. "She shouldn't be here. She's innocent."

"Daddy!" The cub ran toward the end of the gorge. "Mommy, wait!" The gorge closed, blocking off the cub. She clawed at the wall. "Mommy! Daddy!" she shrieked.

I suddenly realized what had happened. Somehow she had found her way here, undoubtedly having searched the whole time that she had been in Heaven to find a way to see her parents, only to see them walk away from her forever. "Mommy! Mommy, Daddy, come back!" I could see the claws tearing at the rock.

"Time to go," said Azl quietly.

Horrified, I turned and went to the rectangle. I stopped and turned around to stare at the cub again. Several malaiki were flying to her, the cub never ceasing her efforts to break through the rock. "Come on," said Azl softly. I walked miserably through the rectangle, Azl behind me.

"Mommy!! Daddy!!"