Dark Star: Chapter 2
The two entities were staring at Scar with expressions that were, for once, identical. The two spirits were in agreement. The time had come to witness the murder that had split Scar's soul irreparably.
"Yes." Kivuli agreed. "We should see it. To think. You haven't even committed your worst murder yet. Nor your last." He commented, shaking his head.
"I told you, Kivuli. Before we even started this whole charade. He'll just disappoint you. You know that he's nothing but a killer." Ammit said, taking delight in Kivuli's apparent sadness. Scar wanted desperately to defend himself, but truth be told he was too starkly reminded of how brutally he had killed one of his closest friends, and how easily he had covered it up.
"To think… I was starting to pity you." Kivuli said. He was staring at Scar with an expression usually reserved for some foul piece of rotting meat, or a decomposing carcass. Scar didn't dare meet his eye as the spirit continued: "I actually thought that the kings might have misjudged you." Kivuli said. "That you were as much a victim as they were… tormented and twisted by circumstances and fate. But I see now. You were just afraid. You were nothing but a coward. You're a greedy, ruthless, bitter coward, who would face an army of hyenas and jackals and wilddogs if it got you the attention you crave. But you would kill and murder for the same basic reasons as any of them." He said. Scar felt an anger rise within him.
"And you're shocked?!" He sneered. "Haven't you been paying attention? That's exactly who I am! You think this makes me regret my choices? The more I see of all this, the more I remember what happened to me, the less I find myself blaming Bane and Caliban and all the rest! You've seen it! You know what they did to me! What the Kings did to me, and to my family! You know how they hurt me! So why shouldn't I hurt them back! By spitting in the face of their precious destiny! This Judgement shouldn't be for me! It should be on them! For allowing any of this to happen! If they wanted to, they could have stopped me killing Mufasa! They could have reached out their power, and rescued Simba whenever they wanted! But they didn't! They abandoned them as much as they abandoned me! So why didn't they huh? Answer me that! Where were the Kings when I needed them? Where were they when Mufasa needed them? How dare you judge me in death when you were silent in life!" He raged. Ammit was staring at him, with glee, his eye alight with a flame as he listened to Scar's words. The dark spirit licked his lips. Kivuli wavered, but said nothing.
"You want to know who I am, Kivuli? Maybe I am a monster. Maybe I do deserve this… Are you ready Kivuli? Do you want to see it?" He asked. Ammit gave a cry of exhalation, lapping up Kivuli's discomfort and Scar's rage. Scar pounded the ground with his paw. For once he felt in control. Once more, he was the one in charge of his own destiny. He could still shock Kivuli, and if that was the only power he had left in this world, then he'd damn well use it.
"Then do it! Show us." Ammit said, his mouth agape, his own teeth shining, perfect, even and white. A stark contrast to the bitter corruption that surrounded him, and looking all the crueller for it. "Show us your eternal sin…" He hissed. "Show us the act that blackened your soul. The choice that all of this has been leading towards… the path you've been walking towards ever since you embraced your anger and killed out of rage; not out of a desire to protect others. Show us the act that made you mine." Ammit crowed. There was a mad gleam in his eye, like a starving animal presented with a fresh kill, or a creature lost in the desert finding some oasis of water. It was the look of desperate relief found in the eyes of mothers who had found their missing child… but it was twisted with malice, and cruelty and misery. It was a cry of triumph, and a scream of pleasure.
"Then let me show you…" Scar said, to Kivuli, and now Scar and Ammit stood side by side, the hopelessness in Kivuli's face expressing everything that Scar felt. "Let me show you how I murdered my brother."
The air evaporated around them and Scar reeled from the shock. He had been staring intently at the figure and was surprised when it disappeared so suddenly, a terrible gleam was in Scar's eye, now. It wasn't the mad, burning, lustful triumph that lay in Ammit's eyes. Rather, it was a cold calculating ambition that made his emerald eyes, so bright to all who saw them, seem at the same time… like something dead. The same gleam that had been there when he had made that pronouncement to Zira so long ago.
We will Reign.
Scar was in the grasslands of the Pridelands and beside him was Zira. And the three hyenas. "This is the last chance to back out. If any of you meat bags want to back out now, this is your one and only chance." Scar told them, pacing in front of them like a general before his army. There would be no mistakes – if they wanted to back out, he would rather they did so now, not when it mattered most. Ed gave a crazed laughter, and Shenzi looked around her at the herds of wildebeest as far as the eye could see.
"I wouldn't miss this for the world. Man it's good to be back here." She licked her lips eyeing the meat around them. It was only now that the shade of Scar noticed how she had changed as the years had passed by. He ought to have noticed sooner. When she had suffered at the paws of her own Matriarch because of Scar's actions, had been a turning point in her life. Scar had promised her, that she would never be weak again, that she would learn to live as he did. As Zira did.
In her youth, Shenzi had been ruthless. But there was more to her now. There was a hunger in her actions, a pained avaricious greed. She was thinner, yes, but muscled and lithe. There was not a shred of fat to her. She was a warrior of the Shadowlands. But not all of her form was due to fitness and training. She had grown older in the Shadowlands, unable to feast in the Pridelands after Mufasa's ascension to power and she'd needed more food. She simply hadn't got it. The same was true of Ed and Banzai, a fact Taka readily exploited.
"If this goes according to plan, then this will be your home for many years to come." Zira reminded them. Shenzi smiled at the thought of it.
"No more bones, no more dust, no more scavenging off carrion! Let's get started!" She rushed forwards. Scar acted instantly, leapt forwards and grabbed her by the throat pinning to the ground. Shenzi barely managed a muffled cry. A nearby wildebeest looked up in alarm, and peered through the long grass. Scar held his paw over Shenzi's mouth and nose, waiting for the wildebeest to go back to its grazing. Satisfied that there was no danger, the creature moved away as Shenzi began to go blue in the face, and made thrashing movements with her unpinned limbs. A few seconds later, Scar released her, and she gasped in lungful's of air, choking, but blessedly quietly.
"Only when I give the signal!" Scar hissed to her. Shenzi massaged her throat.
"Message received." She wheezed.
"You got it boss! You can count on us!" Banzai assured him. The other two hyenas nodded. Or rather Shenzi nodded. Ed just looked rather dazed. Scar turned to Zira.
"The same for you. One last chance, before we go through with this." He told her coldly. Zira blinked.
"Reminds me who came up with the plan?" She asked him. Scar sighed.
"Just thought I'd make the offer." Scar said.
"Oh how sweet of you." Zira purred, rubbing herself along his side. Scar stiffened, breathing in her scent. His eyes narrowed in renewed focus. No more distractions. He pulled away from Zira, and gave a growl.
"No more delays then! You all know what to do!" He snapped. The stalked away into the grass, whilst Zira moved to the east, confident and self-assured. None of them showed the faintest, slightest hesitation for what they were about to do.
A few hours later, Scar had returned to the canyon, a small bundle of golden fluff in toe behind him. He jumped around, unable to stay in a single place for too long, but with patience he didn't feel, Scar led the cub to a small rock in the middle of the canyon. Simba had naively followed Scar without any explanation, once Zira had lured Sarabi, Sarafina, and a few of the other lionesses away from Pride Rock, suggesting that they go hunting in the north for a change. She lied so easily, and so readily is was easy to forget that Zira was even aware of the dark purpose which now drove Scar. The other lionesses, hopeful that she was at long last emerging from the swamp of the depression which had clung to her like a cloak since Kira's death, had agreed without hesitation, leaving Simba in the care of his father and uncle. Mufasa had been persuaded that Simba was with his mother. The other lionesses had elected for a lazy day of sleeping or casually hunting. The only other two who might have interfered, were the adolescents. But Chumvi and Kula had gone with the hunting party, and Tama and Tojo, who had so often been relied upon to watch the young cubs when their mothers were busy, had by providence been too besotted with each other to so much as notice anything out of the ordinary. They had remained at Priderock, seeking no one's company but each other's. Scar recalled how smoothly it had come together. How each of the little pieces of the plan fell into place.
When Simba was led to his death in the valley, the entire pride was blissfully unaware of the impending danger. Zira's own contribution to the plan, and her deception was carried out flawlessly. Once Scar and Simba reached the central rock, Scar turned to his nephew and smiled warmly. Emulating emotion he hadn't felt for years as effortlessly as he faked every other emotion.
"Now you wait here. Your father has a marvellous surprise for you!" Scar told him.
"Ooooh! What is it?" Simba asked him, excitedly. Scar smiled having naturally already prepared an answer for such a question the inquisitive cub was bound to ask.
"Now, if I told you it wouldn't be a surprise now would it?" he said grinning.
"If you tell me, I'll still act surprised." Simba suggested. Scar groaned, and tried not to cringe. Why did all cubs think that they always had such brilliant ideas?
"Ha! You are such a naughty boy!" he laughed. But again, inwardly winced.
"Come on uncle Scar!" Simba begged. Scar, smiled, taking delight in even this small torment with his imaginary 'secret' and smiled again.
"No, no, no, no, no, this is just for you and your daddy..." he told him. When Simba looked lost, Scar attempted to elaborate. "You know... a sort of father son... thing..." he finished lamely. Simba looked confused and before he could ask another question Scar cut in "Well I'd better go get him!" and tried to leave. He was awfully aware that with Simba in place, he was sitting on a geyser ready to blow at any moment, and was anxious to get out of the valley as soon as possible."
"I'll go with you!" Simba said cheerfully. Sweet spirits, why wouldn't the child just sit still and accept his fate! It was almost as if the entire universe wanted Simba to survive the encounter.
"NO!" Scar snapped in frustration, and then caught his emotions quickly. He put on a mask of calm. Inside his anger was simmering. Just get this other with. Then it would all be over.
"No... Just stay on this rock..." he told him. A thought leapt up in his mind as he searched for a suitable deterrent. "You wouldn't want to end up in another mess like you did with the hyenas..." he said, reminding Simba of the encounter which had appeared to be a disaster for both sides in the unseen conflict.
"You know about that?" Simba looked crestfallen. Of course the entire incident had been both terrifying and humiliating for the young cub who had been so eager to prove his courage, not least of which in front of a young female. Scar smiled at the discomfort the thought obviously caused Simba.
"Simba, everybody knows about that..." he told him.
"Really?" Simba asked.
"Oh yes... lucky daddy was there to save you eh?" The boy looked down, obviously ashamed. Scar cared nothing for the upset he was causing. Simba's personal pride had been stung during incident, and despite frequent evidence to the contrary, Simba was not entirely stupid. He was very well aware that he had nearly died – and that it would have led his friends into catastrophe as well. Scar decided that since this was the last conversation he had with Simba, he may as well rub a little salt into the wound, remember how he had watched with irritation as the hyenas were beaten black and blue by his brother.
"Oh, and just between us, you might want to work on that little roar of yours..." he smirked.
"Oh... Okay..." Simba said, clearly disappointed that so many knew of his personal failure, and of his pathetic attempt at bravado. When Scar turned to go however, Simba was reminded of their supposed purpose for coming in the first place, and brightened visibly.
"Hey Uncle Scar! Will I like this surprise?" Scar couldn't resist it: the Pun was dreadful, but the chance was to miss.
"Simba it's to die for..." he told him, departing, chuckling at his own wit.
A single ominous buzzard screeched in the distance. For once, Ammit had no sarcastic comment to make, and Kivuli asked no irritating questions. They said nothing as they rushed across the plains, going to where the Hyena's were lying in wait.
"I'm so hungry! Can't I just pick off one of the little sick ones?" Banzai begged.
"No! We wait for the signal from Scar..." Shenzi clearly still remembered the consequences of her over excitement earlier. Scar smiled. At least was showing some signs of growing intelligence. The thought caused Scar to smirk once again. Clearly it really was the dawn of a new era... He nodded slowly at Shenzi, who smirked.
"There he is... that's the signal – go!"
The trio leapt out of their hiding places, and the wildebeest scattered like dust in the wind. The stench of blood sprayed across the air. The heard where to closely packed to all run at the same time and the Hyena's caught one that was too slow. Rather than rejoice in their kill though, they continued to pursue the fleeing heard, cutting down the old, the young, the sick, the injured and the crippled. They fell with a cry and the splash of blood. Scar smiled at the slaughter. A means to an end. They were a tool – beneath his notice or concern. The real target of this mindless attack though... This was the essential phase.
Now he fled to Pride rock where his brother was waiting. In order to deliver dire news.
As he neared Priderock, adrenaline pumped through him, keeping him free from exhaustion and pain. His brother looked down at him from the rock and he stared at his ragged form.
"Mufasa!" he called to him, feigning desperation. "Stampede! In the gorge! Simba's down there!"
Mufasa's eyes widened at the mention of his sons name.
"Simba!?" He cried out. And of course Mufasa did what they had predicted Mufasa would have done. His mind was cast back to a few hours before, himself in deep discussion with Zira.
"But how do you know this will work Scar? What makes you think Mufasa will fall for this? He is not stupid, he will smell a rat as soon as he sees it! Too many things won't add up. Like how was Simba in the gorge in the First place?"
"You misunderstand Zira. Mufasa won't consider it at the time. He will; drop everything to save his son, turn and run from whatever he was doing to where he is needed more than ever. Trust me."
"But how do you know?"
"Because it's what I did as soon as you and Kira were in danger..."
Now Mufasa did exactly what he had done. He ran up to him, and Scar, panting and running pulled up beside him.
"Simba! Where is he?"
"In the valley!" Scar told him, inwardly grinning as Mufasa ran towards his eventual death.
The real Scar stared at himself and Mufasa. Kivuli grimaced.
"He's desperate to save his Son – whatever the cost. Now where have I seen that before?" Kivuli asked. Scar flinched.
"This is not like that."
"It's a cold pre-emptive attack on the heir of a great Lion, in order to weaken said Lion, so that a murderer can get his revenge. In what way is it not the same?"
"Kira didn't deserve it!"
"You just told us that Simba didn't either... That it wasn't about who deserved what." Ammit said. Scar bit his lip.
Scar and Mufasa heard a cry in the distance, and saw Simba, balanced precariously on a branch. Amazingly he was still alive. But maybe not for much longer.
"Dad!" Simba dried out desperately. The poor cub was terrified but Scar steeled himself. The cub had to die. The cub had to die. The cub had to die. Kill the child. End it all.
Mufasa leap into the stampeding creatures at the sound of his son's cry.
"I am coming son!" he cried out in anguish. Zazu, fluttered around desperately.
"I'll go back for help!" Zazu cried out desperately.
Fool.
With a single swipe, Zazu was plucked out of the air, and hit the rocks hard. Scar drew his claws and prepared to end the miserable bird's life. But the cry of Simba behind him distracted him. For a moment Scar hesitated, then left Zazu on the ground.
Scar stalked around the cliff, trying to keep both his brother and nephew in view, without getting into the deadly seething mass of creatures. Mufasa fought his way to his son. The apparition of Scar skulked behind him. The Scar from the present watched. And for a moment, Mufasa's face was replaced by that of a cub. The brother he had known as a cub.= himself.
The one who had decided he didn't want to be known as Prince Misery-Guts after all. The sound of laughter. Of cubs at play. Of the very first vision he had had when this had started. Scar was reminded of the serious cub desperately wanting to be a good king. That same lion fought with all his strength to save the life of his son.
He recalled the voice of Mufasa so long ago before he had faced Ahadi in that duel. Mufasa had bid him farewell, knowing Scar could not have won that fight. He had been grieving before the first blow had been made. Grieving.
Mufasa was struck by one of the sprinting creatures. If any of them realised that this was the king, all would be over, but the creatures were half mad with fear and ran onwards. Mufasa crashed to the ground, and Scar's heart leapt for a moment. But the strong lion was on his feet again and moving in and out of the wildebeest. By some miracle, Mufasa had reached his son, even as he was thrown flying into the air. Mufasa was there for him. He caught him in his jaws even as Simba was thrown into the stampede.
"Would you not have done the same for Kira?" Kivuli asked, but Scar said nothing.
Another memory flashed. Of diving in and out of sprinting creatures alongside his brother. The zebra. The hunt. The day a pawful of young lions had fed a Pride. The feeling of hope as they accomplished something great. And then, that feeling as power the likes of which he had never experienced again coursed through his veins, desperate to save his friends, to save his brother!
Margane. The Shaman. She had promised him power, promised that he would reshape the Pridelands, and he did so. The will of Scar was carried out, the sentence passed; Mufasa wasn't worthy of being King, he had betrayed Scar, and everything that they had meant to each other long ago. This was justice. This was right. He knew it in his heart. He was certain of it. And the certainty gripped him like iron, determination fuelling his anger, anger fuelling his ambition as he did what needed to be done, what he deserved to do.
Mufasa was struck again by a horn and he dropped Simba. He crashed to the ground, and for a moment it seemed as if Simba would be crushed beneath the trampling feet.
Then Mufasa leapt out of the mass and the cub was once again safe. Carrying the cub in his mouth he reached the edge of the valley. Mufasa dropped Simba onto the raised platform, and climbed up after him.
The tearing of flesh was heard as a trampling beast struck Mufasa in the side. With a roar of pain he was pulled from the rockface back into the seething mass of horns and hooves.
"Dad!" Simba cried out. The desperation in his voice, and the love of his father evident for all to hear. But Scar in the past, was like ice, and unmoved. Not a shred of decency was moved, not an ounce of compassion could be found there.
But Scar in the present, Scar watching with Ammit and Kivuli, shook to hear the cry, for now it was familiar to him.
"Mom!" his memory cried out. And visions assaulted his mind, visions within visions, fragments of abstract thoughts, like dust and light whirling in the tempest. Visions of himself facing the broken body of his mother upon the dusty ground, from where Caliban had ripped out her throat. Scar shook the memory away, better to focus on this one, this chaotic stampede, this horror of horrors.
"I don't understand… Scar…" Kivuli said, horrified, and shaken. He'd know, of course, what he would see. But seeing it for himself, seemed to shake Kivuli more than it did Scar. He swallowed. Scar said nothing, knowing what was about to unfurl, what he was about to see again. Kivuli still shook his head in incomprehension. "You know the pain of losing a parent. But then what would you know about the love a Father has for this son? You killed your own father. You murdered him. Or had him murdered. Same thing." Kivuli said.
"That's not true. He tried to kill me first." Scar protested and the memories bombarded his mind once more, of the Shadowlands, and a forgotten cave full of death and decay, a serpent hurled at his father's feet, a challenge laid out, and a King slain.
"He tried to kill you for the same reasons you tried to kill him! If you are innocent, why is he guilty?"
"You don't know anything about it!" Scar growled. "You said so yourself. I was an ambition, cruel thing. That why I did it." He said, in a toneless voice.
And then, unwanted and unasked for, another memory awoke. Of playing in the fields. Uru, Ahadi, Taka and Mufasa together. Playing, having fun. The laughter of cubs and the love between mates. A family. The first memory he'd been shown, the earliest, the fondest. All ripped away, and lost in the multitude of slaughter. Pain and loss and misery and ambition burning it away. War and assassins and duels and plots, so much, too much, for his young mind as a cub to understand. A cub as young as Taka had been couldn't have understood. A cub as young as Simba was, couldn't have begun to know.
Now Mufasa was beaten and broken, and disappearing for longer lengths of time beneath the stampede, beaten bloody, and in agony.
Simba looked desperately into the multitude, terrified, incomprehensible fear and shock on his face. A true horror that he could barely begin to process.
And then Mufasa leapt out of the mass with a great roar. Simba gave a whoop of triumph and fled up the rocks away from the stampede. Scar looked down at the King as he climbed up the side of the rock-face, his claws cutting into the rock dragging his battered body up the side of the cliff, out of the valley, to safety and freedom. Scar glared down at the King. The memories were overlapping. Scar in the vision seemed tormented too, his conviction evaporating, and restoring itself every second that passed.
"Stop this madness!" That was another memory. It wasn't his voice, it was Mufasa, calling out to stop Ahadi's murder of his son.
But no one called out now, and no one had cried out to Scar to intervene in his murder of Mufasa. No one had stood between Scar and Mufasa. This was a voice from long ago, from another memory, bleeding into this one. Scar gritted his teeth, ignoring it. He was the one in control. He wanted Mufasa dead. He enjoyed it. The voice that called out, in fear and in condemnation was the voice of Mufasa from long ago. It was the voice of him intervening in the duel – as Ahadi prepared to butcher both Zira and Scar before the Pride. Mufasa meddling. Mufasa saving his life. The life of his brother. The uncle of his child. The king who had tried so hard to maintain a kingdom with fairness and justice. Naive. The real Scar pulled out of the memory drawing in sharp breath.
A memory within a memory. Kivuli shouted over the drums of the hooves of the heard.
"Look at what you wrought Scar! Look at Your brother!" Scar did so. But he could not look at his brother without seeing the face of the cub who had tried to be King. The face of young lion whom had trusted him enough to lad an illicit night time hunt. The lion who had been thrilled to discover he was an uncle. Scar almost could not bear it. What was he doing?
"Scar!" He called. "Brother!" The apparition cried out desperately. "Help me!" help me even though I did not help you against Ahadi. Help me even though I let Kira die. The apparition of Scar glared at him. Then lashed out, his claws pinning Mufasa's into the rock face. Mufasa cried out in pain. Scar leaned forwards. For Kira. For betraying me and stealing what was mine.
But the real Scar looked on. Uru. Caliban. Ahadi. Bane. Kira. Hissis. Mufasa. All of them dead. So much blood for the sake of a kingdom he would come to despise. His Mother died for it. His Father would try to kill him over it. And he in turn would kill for it. Again and Again. So much death. And so much more to come.
Was the prize worth the cost? Could it ever be?
Kira, Uru, Ahadi. All of them killed over the crown. All of them dead for it. And now he destroyed the last of his family.
It hadn't been worth it. He had died anyway. He knew that now. He had died unmourned, overthrown by his own people.
It hadn't been worth it.
It hadn't been worth the prince.
He'd seen it.
He knew it.
It had never been worth it.
"No…" he whispered. "Don't…" Not for the first time, wishing he could speak to his younger self, to avert catastrophe.
"Long live the King!" Scar hissed.
I didn't mean it.
He realised, in the solace of his own thoughts.
Kivuli's eyes jerked to his, staring into him as if hearing the heresy in his head. Scar scowled at the treacherous thought. If he faced oblivion, as seemed inevitable, then he'd do so as him. Not as anyone else! He hadn't regretted anything! Why should he show regret now? He wouldn't be made into someone he wasn't!
In the vision, Mufasa's eyes widened. A terrible mixture of emotions. Horror. Shock. Betrayal. Pain. Pain at losing his brother. Pain at not realizing it.
Scar jerked his paws out and threw Mufasa from the side of the valley into the running mass below. A cry echoed around the valley. A tiny, high, broken voice that echoed loss beyond imagining. Let Scar could imagine it. He had felt it keenly and for a moment, that voice was joined by another. He barely recognised it as his own.
"NOOOOOO!"
The dust cleared. In a few seconds all of the destruction had been wiped away. Dust and ashes were the only sign of any calamity. Scar moved over to the body of his brother. His limps were crushed, and his back was clearly broken. With a grunt of disgust, Scar turned the body over with a claw. Mufasa stared up at him. He was dead. At last.
"The Kingdom is mine, dear brother. It was always mine." he told the corpse. He was unsurprised when he received no response.
Scar smiled with glee.
"Oh and give my regards to our father would you? Both of you underestimated me. And both of you died for it because of it. I am glad you know the truth now…" He said, to no one.
A skittering of rocks caught his attention, and Scar shrank into the shadows to avoid whoever was coming. Simba came crashing out of the dust, which had been thrown into the air. Crying, and screaming, desperately for his father.
Scar eased out of the shadows and talked quietly to him. Scar didn't need to listen. He know what he said.
A few moments later Simba ran from the valley. Scar barked a command, and the hyenas pursued.
A short while later they returned.
"It is done." Shenzi said simply. She stared at the body of Mufasa upon the ground.
"We actually did it…" Banzai looked grimly at it. They showed no euphoria of celebration, but looked at the murder grimly. They knew what they had done. This was no hunt for food. Not justified revenge killing for the loss of one of their comrades or friends.
"The crown… is yours Scar." He said. And the words sent a thrill through him. Victory. Sweeter than the finest meat, a thirst slaked, more satisfying than the most carnal of lusts. With that pronouncement, agony and ecstasy burnt through him all at once and all he wanted to do was take Zira into his embrace and scream to high heavens. He'd do it here, standing over his brother's cooling remains if she were here.
We will Reign.
Instead, he roared in defiance, as he stood over his brother's broken body, drunk on adrenaline and his own savagery, as the hyenas bowed to him. The first of many, to kneel before their new King that day.
Ammit laughed manically. "Oh masterfully done Scar! Superb claw-work." He said. Kivuli sighed at the carnage.
"You were right. More blood spilt in the name of your ambition." he said bitterly. Scar shook himself, a lump forming in his throat.
"He left me… no choice. I had to… He betrayed me… I would have lost everything!" he cried out. Kivuli surveyed the scene grimly.
"I think… you just did." And Scar knew he was not talking about his Crown. He had lost so much more than that. Ammit however, crowed in exhalation of his own, as glorius in his victory as Scar had been in his. There was no defending this. No way around it. No excuses or justifications of clever moralising to avoid it.
Mine.
His eyes seemed to say.
You are mine.
"Since the beginning, Scar… Since Mortals first fell. There have always been acts considered so depraved… so vile that they rebel against the circle of life themselves. I want you to know, Scar, that I have been there since this Sun started burning, since the world began its meandering wandering through the void. I have seen ancient giants die in the fire, the new life crawl from out of the slime, and then watched them make the same mistakes over and over again. And you, weak, pathetic mortals… Inevitably… Fall. You are destined to disappoint. I don't know what the Kings see in you… I honestly don't." He laughed.
"What's your point, Ammit?" Scar asked, as the impossibly ancient entity smirked at him, like he was a child. No, less than that. An insect.
"My point, Scar, is that I watched the very first mortals fall." He said. "Not as impressive as my own, I'll concede. The fall of mortals left much less of a lasting… impact… on things, to be sure. At least in the grand scheme of things. But do you know how every fall began? It began with a single choice… of power over peace. And it ends – as these things always do – with a brother slaying brother. There is a pattern to this. A rhythm. And in all those falls, in all those cycles, and all those brothers… I don't think I've ever seen someone look as hurt, as betrayed as your brother did then. Nor produced a scream as pained, as Simba's there and then. Watching it happen the first time, that was an honour. But seeing it again in person? Over and over and over, playing out, in the shadows of the Twilight realm? Scar. That is quite simply a privilege." He said, mockingly. Scar looked away, as Ammit laughed and laughed, in delight. Kivuli said nothing. He didn't have to. Part of Scar wondered what the Judgement was even for at this point. It was clear to see, that for Ammit, it seemed a mere formality. In the eyes of Ammit, Scar's soul was as damned as ever.
And a great swell of hopelessness filled through him, as Scar looked at the disappointment, the regret in Kivuli's eyes. Maybe he was right. Because if even Kivuli saw no hope for him now, he couldn't even begin to find it in himself.