[Author's Note]
Welcome back, everyone! Didn't mean to take this long with starting book 2, but there were some details I had to set right in my outline, both in this story and the next three that follow it. In any case, your patience has been noted and appreciated. I just want to give a shoutout to SomethingPhilosophical for being an excellent editor as usual, and once again to Haradion for spitballing ideas with me back-and-forth until they stick. Not going to say much else, except that this book will be much more exciting than the previous one. Enjoy!

I know where beauty lives,
I've seen it once, I know the warmth she gives.
The light that you could never see,
It shines inside, you can't take that from me.
The truth is never far behind,
You kept it hidden well.
If I live to tell the secret I knew,
Then will I ever have the chance again?

1 NIGHT AGO

Janga thrust one feeble paw against the canyon floor and dragged herself forward. She was dimly aware of the blood trickling from her mouth and the dull sensation of the unforgiving ground scraping against her stomach. Her entire body was afire with pain, and she could barely summon the strength to move.

Keep going.

Everything had been a blur since the rockslide. She had no idea how long she laid buried, breathing in the dusty air before she finally pried the rocks apart and crawled away in the stillness of the early dawn. She had seen the bodies of her lions—the ones that weren't crushed underneath countless layers of rocks—and found not one of them alive. Janga slumped against the ground as despair threatened to overwhelm her.

They'll know. They'll know and they'll be ready now. Kivuli was right, why did I pick this accursed gorge? Her eyes stared up into the fading night sky, where the stars were just barely visible. The Great Kingdom, or so mother used to tell me. If that's what they are, they haven't done much except sit by and watch. Which suited her just fine. Whatever divine presence residing above had remained unsympathetic throughout Scar's reign and all who suffered under it, and she wasn't expecting any relief now.

Janga gritted her teeth as she stood upright, paws shaking as she tried to steady her bruised and bleeding body. I'm not done yet. I'm so close to completing my task. All I need now...is... She staggered to an opening in the rock wall and leaned against it, gasping as the injuries against her shoulder and flank screamed in protest. She fought to remain conscious, although it was becoming more difficult with each ragged breath she took. Through her swimming vision, she scrutinized the slope before her. The way out was right in front of her, but she didn't have the energy to climb it.

"It would have been easier if you just stayed where you were."

Janga stiffened at the sound of Fujo's voice. She slowly turned, still using the wall behind her for support as she struggled to focus on the silhouette of the approaching lion. "So that's it," she scoffed. "Are you going to leave my corpse with the others? Or do you have some more elaborate plan to pin this all on me?"

She heard Fujo sigh. "You're delirious," he muttered. "And you're losing a lot of blood. Let's be quick then..."

As he stepped forward, Janga lunged at him with a wild snarl. He stepped away as she landed painfully on her front, taking advantage of her disoriented state to haul her up.

"Enough." he said impatiently. "You're making this unnecessarily difficult, just walk."

"What are you...what are you doing..." Janga murmured groggily as he threw her paw around his shoulder to hold her up.

"I get it, you think I'm here to kill you," Fujo replied testily as he half-walked, half-dragged her up the slope. "Tempting as it is, we still have plans to see through. And yours are now in jeopardy, which means mine are as well. So until we sort out this mess, I'm going to need you alive."

Janga laughed weakly, even as she struggled to find purchase against the rocky climb. "Your concern is touching...tell me, Fujo...have you ever saved someone because you actually cared about them?"

"Save your altruism for the Pridelanders," Fujo grunted. "I'm sure they'll be more understanding once you've destroyed their kingdom."

She glowered at him but didn't respond as the slope evened out before them, and focused instead on climbing out of the gorge. "I had one chance...one chance to catch them unawares...avert another fight before it could break out. They'll...they'll want to fight—they'll be ready now."

He raised an eyebrow. "You mean they weren't before? Then who caused the rockslide?"

"I don't know." Janga let Fujo guide her as she closed her eyes, thinking hard. "I saw him standing atop the cliffs. I heard a name, before it happened...Kopa."

"Doesn't sound familiar. I assure you he isn't from my pride."

"He's an outsider then..."

"Could be," Fujo conceded. "But why would an outsider interfere with the plan? Why now?"

She opened her eyes. "You think he's with the Pridelanders."

"They may not be as oblivious to your secret invasion as you believed. If I'm right, then I think they've made their position quite clear to you."

Janga hissed in pain as Fujo set her down against a lone, lifeless tree. They had left the gorge far behind, and daylight was rapidly spreading across the badlands beneath the morning sky. "I have to be sure," she muttered, even as she struggled to remain conscious. "I'll find this Kopa. I'll make him answer for what he did."

"Do what you have to," he said coolly. "A word of caution for you, though...beware the Lion Guard."

"The Lion Guard?" she scoffed. "That was a legend...fables my father draped upon himself to stroke his own ego."

"No, they're very real. I was as surprised as you are, believe me."

"Not happening. The Lion Guard is a..." Myth? A lion with a roar that could split the mountains, that was what Kivuli had said. Janga hadn't thought much of it at the time, but as things were she could think of no other explanation.

Fujo noticed her silence. "So who stopped Kivuli from killing my brother?"

"How did you know about that?" Janga growled.

There was that smile she always hated, the one Fujo wore whenever he knew something no one else did. "I like to keep my eyes and ears out," he said. "The Pride Lands are under the protection of a Lion Guard, and if you intend to fix this mess, you'd be wise to find out more about them." He stood. "Try not to move too much. Jeraha will find you soon."

"Jeraha?" Janga frowned, recalling that she hadn't seen her friend since he left Mount Tempest. "Have you been following my lions?"

"They've been following me, actually. But they'll be more concerned about taking their wounded leader to safety, so they won't be my concern for much longer."

She narrowed her eyes at his retreating form. "And where are you off to now?"

"If you must ask, there are contingencies I must attend to—given the recent events."

"What kind of contingencies?"

Fujo stopped and looked over his shoulder. "If you want this plan to work, we're going to need to start trusting each other," he said flatly. Without another word, he sprinted off into the badlands.

Unable to sit up any longer, Janga laid on the ground as her injuries began throbbing again. She pushed it aside, her mind buzzing with thoughts about what Fujo could possibly be up to. Does he really want me to trust him? Is he trying to make me as uncertain about him as he is? His efforts to ensure her survival was as unsettling as it was—loath as Janga was to admit it—a relief.

"Janga!"

Through her hazy, blurred vision, she was able to make out a trio of lions approaching. But this time the familiarity of the voice brought a smile of genuine relief to her face. "Jeraha..." she whispered feebly, recognizing her friend's towering figure.

"I've got you...the camp's not far..."

Janga did not respond. Numbness had overtaken the pain now, and finally she gave in and slipped out of consciousness.

•••

PRESENT

It was a strange thing, to be in the company of so many lions at once. During his long trek through the mountain range, Kopa had been completely alone for the first time in as long as he could remember, and then here he was, travelling with nine others bound for Mount Kilimanjaro. The past few days had been as taxing as they were eventful, and as he looked over the battered and dishevelled lions around him, he could see his own weariness mirrored in their expressions. The trip along the Zuberi River had been spent mostly in tired silence, and no one seemed eager to break it over the steady rush of the river's current.

Malka, the King of Mount Tempest, led their procession. He was a sizable lion, and would have looked imposing if not for the slumped, daunted manner with which he held himself. A medium-brown lioness named Siri walked closely by Malka's side along with two lions whose names Kopa did not know. She seemed to be lost in her thoughts, but considering how terrible the last several days had been for her, that wasn't entirely surprising.

Behind him were Chumvi and three other lions. Like Kopa, Chumvi had once come from the Pride Lands, something that emboldened them to stop Janga from reaching it. With her buried in the rockslide, their erstwhile home was no longer in immediate danger. And until the dust clouds rising from the gorge settled, there was no way to cross it. So Kopa and Chumvi agreed to help the Tempest Pride gather their remaining pride members at their hideout, the Hollow, before they would head back for the Pride Lands. But most of Janga's lions were still out there, and something would have to be done about them soon.

Walking next to Kopa was his best friend, Tumaini. For some reason, Kopa couldn't stop thinking of Afua, a name he was certain he had heard somewhere, a long time ago. From what little Chumvi had said, something terrible had clearly happened between Malka's sons, which explained why there was no Afua around. But Kopa doubted Tumaini was going to forthcoming with talking about it right now. Is he still mad at me? It doesn't look like it, but something's definitely on his mind. I'll ask him about it...just not right now.

As the roar of the Zuberi River intensified, Malka stopped the group where the land rose up sharply before them. Kopa paused, fascinated at the sight of the frothing river as it flowed into the passage under the mountain. The king noticed his astounded look and gave a hint of a smile. "You know, these waterways once caught the eye of a young lioness named Sonara, who lived at the Hollow long before my time."

Siri turned her head with interest. "Sonara the Sculptor, first Queen of Mount Tempest?"

"Very good, Siri," Malka said approvingly. "Some of your older pride members don't even know that part of our history. Yes, Queen Sonara was one of the most brilliant minds of her time, if also a touch strange according to the records left by those who knew her. She studied the natural elements, learning everything she could from the world around her. She had the most fascinating ideas on reshaping the Hollow, conceiving the notion of tunnels that allow water to flow through the interior."

"Sounds daring," remarked Kopa. "I like her already."

"Well, her pride didn't at the time," the king went on. "They feared she would flood the Hollow, although that didn't stop her from trying—until she was found out and exiled by the king. But she was not alone; a small number of the pride—including the young lion that would rule beside her someday—disagreed with the king's decision and journeyed with her until they eventually discovered Mount Tempest, where a small, primitive pride resided."

"They made dens on the mountainside, right?" asked Kopa.

"That's right, they did. I guess Tumaini must have told you." Malka glanced at Tumaini, but his son continued walking in silence. "Anyway, Sonara was enamored with Mount Tempest, so when the native pride accepted her proposal to create a new home together, they began work on the tunnels immediately. While she never saw Mount Tempest completed in her lifetime, her successors continued her work and meticulously followed the instructions she left them."

"Hang on, they knew exactly what she wanted to do?" Kopa said incredulously. "How is that possible?"

"I don't think you realize how Sonara's mind worked," Siri interjected. "She could visualize Mount Tempest's entire network before they built it, just based on the size and shape of the mountain. Every den, every passageway, every water tunnel—she knew where they all went."

"That's amazing," he breathed. Then he remembered their predicament, and his expression fell. "I'm sorry it all belongs to Janga now."

"It won't be for long," Malka said firmly. "Now that we've rested a little, it's time for us to get to the Hollow."

Kopa blinked. "I thought we were here already. This is Mount Kilimanjaro, isn't it?"

Tumaini broke his silence at last. "It is," he grunted without turning around. "But now we have to climb it."

"Cli—climb it?" the younger lion squeaked, eyeing the enormous mountain before them.

"Yep," Malka confirmed. "Tumaini, would you take the lead? You know the way in, and I'd rather not slip and fall on anyone considering my, um..." He glanced down at his rather portly frame. "...stature."

"Fine," Tumaini said shortly. As he made to scale the steep ascent, his eye caught Kopa's petrified demeanour. The older lion's expression, which had been stubbornly sullen for the entirety of their trip, finally gave way to some sympathy. "Stay close to me," he sighed. "I'll keep an eye on you."

Siri nudged Kopa. "Chin up, kid," she said cheerfully. "The mountain air will be good for you. Besides, you've got mother hen over here to make sure you don't fall."

Tumaini scowled at her, but there was no malice in it. "Stop teasing him, Siri. He's afraid of heights."

"Sure, because it was him I was teasing," Siri muttered, but not loud enough for him to hear.

Kopa noticed that Malka looked a touch amused at the exchange, and couldn't help smiling himself. If getting to the Hollow required climbing the tallest mountain in Africa, then there was no way Janga's lions could ever find them. "Just don't make me look down," he muttered as they began what would be a long, arduous climb.

If I ran away, I'd never have the strength to go very far
How would they hear the beating of my heart?
Will it grow cold, the secret that I hide? Will I grow old?
How will they hear? When will they learn? How will they know?
—Madonna, "Live To Tell"