"Scar, brother!" He pleaded, his muscles chilled with a flood of adrenaline that burned with an icy intensity as his heart raced. He knew something wasn't right. Scar was too calm. Deep down, he knew Scar didn't intend to help him. Still, he fought this revelation as his instincts screamed at him to survive. To beg, to strike something deep in his brother's heart and move him to grant him mercy. He didn't care how it happened, he just didn't want to die. "Help me!"
He felt himself slip, then a fresh unexpected pain as Scar dug his sharp claws into the nerves in his skin, tearing the tendons that connected the bones and muscles in his paws that were losing their strength. In the wake of his pained roar, he saw the strangest, most terrifying thing he'd seen in his life.
Scar smiled. There was no love, no fear.
In fact, there was nothing at all.
This wasn't his brother. This was a monster. His Guard had been right, he realized. He'd failed the pride, failed the Pride Lands. Failed Sarabi. Failed Simba.
"Long live the king."
A chill ran down his spine as he thought of his little son. The cub didn't know that this creature wasn't to be trusted. Scar was going to kill him, his own brother, and then he would turn to his child, who would run to his uncle, he knew he would. Simba loved Scar. Simba trusted Scar. Mufasa had trusted Scar. Simba was about to experience the hell he was now living. Betrayal, fear. Then death. He had saved Simba from the stampede, but there was no time to save him now. Scar had already won.
His death had been but a brief period of suffering, a blur of snapped bones before merciful blackness.
Then, light. Peace.
No being explained themselves to him, no one came to him and explained the afterlife. He just...knew. He knew where he was, he knew who he was, and he knew that somehow, things would be alright. Imbibed with a new knowledge that this was the cosmic way of things, he wandered in the sense that he was searching for something, but he had no body. Before long, he found his father and mother, and others he had lost. But he didn't feel the childlike joy that he'd pictured in his mortal life. Rather, it was a peaceful communion of equal souls. They were no longer his parents, simply part of his chain of lineage, a small connection in a vast wave of souls. Here, all were equal.
Still, he remembered his physical life. He retained all of his memories, and he knew that his family was in trouble. He also knew that there was nothing that he could do. Above all, somehow, he knew that things would be alright. He knew they were scared, he knew that they were grieving, but he knew that like all things, it would pass. He waited for Simba to join him, but he never did. His son was still alive. He didn't know how this could be. Had Scar shown mercy?
As time passed, he didn't know how long, he became aware that the balance of life below was in danger of shifting down a darker path. At the center of this shift was his brother, the young lioness Nala, and his son, Simba. He needed to right a wrong. He needed to answer the call. As he moved closer towards the epicenter of the potential shift, he felt the familiar pains of mortal life begin to nip at his mind again. Pain, loss, exhaustion, betrayal. The snares of having a mortal body. Suffering of any type was a distant memory to him, but he became aware of them again, though he did not fully experience them as he once had.
The details became clearer to him, revealed as he formed a connection with the physical realm.
Simba was not where he needed to be, neither physically nor spiritually. The aura of the lion in the field below him was a far cry from the joyful, playful child he had lovingly raised. This lion was anxious, burdened with guilt, and angry. So very angry. He had grown aged and jaded in ways that he should not have. Mufasa could see that his innocence was gone in every sense, every piece taken by selfish animals in his life, each taking a bite of his trust as they went. His ability to love and forgive was stunted by seasons of repressed trauma and grief. Many of the burdens he carried, he had carried alone, and this was breaking him. Mufasa was surprised to find a streak of hatred, a feeling so hot and out of place it was jarring. His son hated himself, Mufasa realized sadly. He had been hurt, and in turn, he had hurt others. He saw it in detail now, the escape into the desert. The meerkat and the warthog, his new family. Simba loved them as he did his parents and even Nala. But he did not love himself. Much of the anger and hatred stirring in his heart where it did not below was aimed inward at his own self. He was so blinded by his scars that it was beginning to consume him. This was not who he had raised his son to be. No king could rule kindly and fairly while hatred and anger were rooted in their hearts. This went against everything he had taught his son. He knew Simba could be better. He had to be better.
"Simba," he called to his son, his voice carrying down to the youth, who regarded him with fear and shock.
"Father," he breathed. Mufasa could hear the putrid grief in his son's voice, stuffed deep inside his mind for far too long. He needed to let it go, and make room for change.
"You have forgotten me," he chastised.
"No, how could I?"
"You have forgotten who you are, so you have forgotten me. Look inside yourself, Simba. You are more than what you have become. You must take your place in the Circle of Life."
"How can I go back?" He could feel the emotions in his son spilling out. He was afraid to face his family, but most of all, he was afraid to face his mother. Mufasa knew Sarabi would forgive their son. Simba, in his blind attempts to snuff out his suffering, had shut her out and forced her to grieve a death that had never happened. But this had saved him from Scar. It was a twisted blessing. Now that he was strong, he could return. He must return. "I'm not who I used to be," he lamented, as if in his shame he knew that his sins were exposed. Those sins were numerous and troubling, and many things had happened that should not have, the consequences of which would only fully be revealed with the passage of time. But his atonement was coming. All would be right in the end.
"Remember who you are. You are my son," he reminded Simba. "And the one true king."
His son's soul was a storm of resistance, anger, and fear, but he knew that something deep inside was changing. Life would be balanced, he knew. Simba had what he needed to fulfill his role. He withdrew back into paradise, leaving his grieving son as all remnants of agony washed away from him once again. Simba's pain would be temporary. His son would learn to be happy again, in time.
Before long, he felt the faint, familiar presence of a soul he had been waiting for. It was the redeemed soul of his brother, Taka. Taka had passed into the afterlife, but he was not ready to join his ancestors yet. However, his atonement was beginning. Taka had experienced regret, and renounced his wickedness. For Mufasa, this was enough. When his brother was ready, he would be welcome with him in paradise.
He felt the lands of his ancestors healing, a cosmic warmth radiating from the earth as balance was restored. His son soon married the love of his life, and had two beautiful cubs. He ruled the lands with a kind heart and fair mind, fulfilling his role as it had been foretold, raising his children to be even better than he was. He took care not to pass on his mistrust and anger, though they never truly left his heart. As he matured and changed, so too did his role. Mufasa became aware that his son was meant to be more than just a king. What exactly that was, however, he did not know.
Mufasa knew that the ancients took a special interest in his heir, Kiara. Mufasa did not know what her purpose would be, only that it would be great. She would be the greatest leader in all her lineage. She was everything her parents strived to be; brave, strong, and wise, and she was innocent and trusting in ways that they could never be. This would aid her in her path to fulfilling her role.
Her brother Kion was gifted, this was clear from a young age. He possessed a communion with the souls of his ancestors, a blessing that had not been bestowed for generations. Ahadi had been given the honor and duty of leading Kion on a spiritual journey that would teach him to hone his skills and deepen his connection. In doing so, he strengthened his connection with the Roar, and was able to wield it in ways that had never been done before. In his absence, tension rose in his homeland, as it was meant to. Struggling with facing demons he had tried to shut out, his weary son reached out to him one night.
"Father, I am lost," he admitted heavily. "Kovu is one of them, Scar's heir. How can I accept him?" His words were spoken with admission of his prejudices, but with that there was the desire for strength. Simba wanted peace, he wanted to change. From his place in the heavens, Mufasa smiled. His son was still healing, wading his way through the shallows towards a destiny that had yet to be revealed. Mufasa did not answer his call. He didn't need to. All the wisdom Simba needed would be given to him. He needed to trust the ones he loved. His son was not done learning the lessons he needed to learn, lessons that would prepare him for his next role. He needed to learn trust.
A bit of time passed. Before long, he felt a calling to earth once more. It was Sarabi. She was alone on a hillside, praying. In the years that had passed, she had lived a peaceful and fulfilling life. He came to her with joy in his heart. Initially his face frightened her, but she soon smiled.
"You're truly in a better place," she observed with relief, a sense of peace washing over her. "You watched over our son. You brought him back. All these years, you've been with us."
"The dead are never truly gone," he smiled. "What troubles you, my love?"
"I have been blessed many times in my life," she took a deep breath. "But I am tired, and I can only take so much pain. I don't know what the Great Kings have planned for our son, but I know that I cannot bear to lose him a second time. If it is their wish that he be taken early, I only ask that I be spared the grief and taken first."
"Is this truly what you want?"
"It is. Zira's pride is intent on killing him, and her attempts have been more and more bold. I fear for his life."
"Be at peace, my love. Balance will return, and things will happen as they are meant to. You need not fear."
She heeded his words, embracing the coming changes with peace in her heart. As pride unified and life went on, she did not reach out to him again. She knew that they would be reunited in time. She was, and always had been, wise beyond her years.
Then, the time came for Taka's repentance to take another form. Mufasa felt him grow closer, but he could not see him. They were not yet joined in the same place.
"Brother," his voice called from another plane. "My repentance is not yet complete. I stole years from you, and scarred our family. My sins are numerous, and the darkness I cast over our homeland twisted and knotted the destinies of an entire generation in a selfish lust for power. I grovel and beg your forgiveness."
"You already have it," Mufasa smiled. "Be at peace, and join our family as we guide the next generation together."
A new sense of peace washed over him as he saw his brother approach. Taka was now kind and wise. Ahadi, Uru, and the deceased members of the Guard joined the reunion. The chapter of darkness had closed. A new chapter could now begin.