Everything suddenly stopped. The screaming, the inertia, even Black's heavy presence had vanished in an instant. The cockpit disappeared beneath him and he felt as though he'd been ripped from his own body, dragged into the dark like the prey of some great beast. He couldn't see, couldn't move, could hear only his own heartbeat; he felt weightless, floating in some dark womb a hundred thousand light years from the battle. He didn't think this was death, it felt different from the creeping blackness that had encroached on him back on the wasteland desert, body broken by the crocodilian hunters and full of Haggar's poisoned quintessence.
Something suddenly nudged against him. It was large, warm, pushed at his whole body with a knowing gentleness, as though the force had done this a hundred times before. He opened his eyes and everything was still black, but something impossibly darker now loomed over him, ancient, unknowable, vast and fathomless. Pressed by a sudden longing he reached out to touch it, felt a pulsing warmness like starlight go singing through his nerves, organic and manufactured alike. It was familiar in the same way sunlight felt splashing across his bare skin, the same way the endless reaches of space tugged at his soul at night.
Nothing happened for a long moment. The warmth sat in his veins like honey, sweet and cloying him to near sleepiness, the darkness seeming to swell and swallow him whole in the space between heartbeats. He startled as the blackness seemed to burst, blinding light and millions of stars pouring into the space around him, molding around the dark shape that held him, he now realized, in its jaws. Panic crackled through him before a flickering warmth bloomed behind his eyes, spilling into his consciousness and painting everything a glowing violet. With it swirled memories, awareness, both his and hers.
A deep purr rumbled from her throat, vibrating through where she held him gently in her teeth. He became aware of his own expanses, then, how small he was compared to her as he reeled his senses away from her and back to himself. His name was Shiro. He was a paladin of Voltron. He had just defeated Zarkon. He was bonded to the Black Lion. He was—
not dead
Her voice was a quasar pulsing in his head, the twinkling frequencies of distant stars.
you are with me, my Paladin, we are me
He blinked and no longer saw through her eyes, the shimmering expanse of space vanishing to a muted purple glow as the Lion pushed him back into his own essence. He focused his blurry vision on the mirror-ground, his reflection hanging from her jaws as though he was a newborn cub. Familiarity buzzed in his subconscious until the memory clicked into pace, recognizing the spinning galaxies and constellations that surrounded him.
"Why am I here?" his voice echoed in his ears, and he was unsure if he actually spoke it aloud or merely thought it. She heard him nonetheless, and replied with her own echoing voice of solar wind and collapsing stars.
my First would kill you, my Second, here we are me
Zarkon. Her way of speech was cryptic, but he had come to understand her with time. She hadn't been made with human rationality in mind, after all, so he had adapted to her curious dialect. She had taken him to the same realm he had battled Zarkon for the right to be her paladin, to protect him. He had never heard her use that term, we are me, and pondered what it could mean.
In response he heard her purring change pitch, lowering to a pensive growl, her eyes flashing white at the same moment his did as well. The mirror-ground clouded and grew murky, before images rippled into being below them. The Black Lion's bay in the Castle of Lions, he recognized it almost immediately, but everything was haloed in violet and tilted at an angle. He could see Keith, standing in front of him, his expression desperate and pained.
"What's going on? What happened?" his voice betrayed his worry, "Did we fail?" Instantly memories and images of the fight flashed across his mind, of Zarkon defeated and destroyed, floating among the debris. So, they had won, but why did Keith look so upset? Black rumbled sadly at his wordless question, the image blurring into one of Black's own cockpit, from one of the smaller internal cameras.
He wasn't there.
He could hear Keith's voice, muffled and distant, calling his name. The cockpit was empty, devoid of any trace of him save the bayard still locked into the mechanism. He was confused, startled, and felt panic rising in him at Keith's distress. He should be there with him, with all of them, but he was in an entirely different realm that only Black could control.
"Where is my body. The last time you brought me here my body was left behind, where is it now?"
my First interfered, my Own, now we are me
The last few seconds replayed in his mind, the sharp pain in his mind and the sensation of being pulled under, and it became startlingly clear. Zarkon had tried to take him down with him, and Black had saved him by pulling him back into this realm. If he couldn't pilot the Black Lion, Zarkon was going to make sure no one else ever could. She had saved him, snatched his consciousness away from him before he could destroy him. But his body was gone, lost someplace between the violent tug of war Zarkon and Black had waged over him, and without it, she couldn't put him back.
we are me
A cold settled over him as he watched, detached, as Keith curled up on the pilot's seat, tears shinning on his cheeks, clutching the black bayard to his chest. He was merely a part of the Black Lion now, a piece of her vast consciousness, a single star among her endless constellation.