His face set into a mask of grim concentration, Lance held his breath and tried to ignore the sickening lurch of his stomach as the pilot's pod he was in shot down the near frictionless surface of the lion chute at an incredible speed.

Despite all the reassurance given by Coran and all the explanations offered by Pidge, he eyed the lion chute with habitual trepidation, half-expecting the transparent walls to crack open under the pressure and heat created by the hundred thousand or so tons of lava that swirled in the crater of the extant volcano where the Red Lion rested.

He couldn't count the number of times he had boarded his lion in the years he had been stationed in Arus, but he had still heaved a silent sigh of relief whenever the wild ride came to an abrupt end, as the pod was caught and held fast by the electromagnetic grapplers.

Propelling the pod on silent servos, the grapplers whisked the pod along and positioned it in the cockpit. Lance felt the solid metal of his seat tremble and shake gently as another powerful electromagnet locked it into place.

All in all, the entire process of loading took 47.32 seconds, a short time that seemed like an eternity. But despite the impatience and concern that seethed within him, Lance's movements were un-rushed and deliberate, testimony that years of flight training at the Academy — and one or two crashes — had taught him that launch preparations should not be hurried.

Lance urged the Red Lion out of its den as soon as he got the go-ahead signal from the ship's onboard computer. Setting the lion's air speed to its maximum velocity, he homed in on the signal sent by Keith's communicator.

He didn't need to glance at the external monitors to know that the other lions were hot on his tail. Years of training together — and thousands of aerial combats fought side by side — had fused the team into a cohesive whole.

They acted as one, each adjusting to the actions of the others. Unnecessary words were left unspoken. For once, the comm channel was quiet, free from the friendly banter and teasing that normally filled it.

But while their pilots were silent, the lions were not. Majestic in their rage and fury, their roars and growls echoed across the hills and plains of Arus long after the steaks of color that they created disappeared across the horizon.

It seemed, Lance mused, as though the lions could sense the emotions of their pilots and respond accordingly. After all, they were created with a magic that no one, except possibly Orla could understand.

Keith stifled a moan of pain. While he didn't believe that he had broken any ribs in his furious collision with the tree, he was certain that the tissue around the area of impact was badly bruised. He was having trouble catching his breath. Taking in more than a sip of air was absolute agony.

A thin stream of blood — the effect of a slender jagged gash on his temple — trickled down Keith's cheek and mixed with his tears as he wondered, with a degree of calm detachment that amazed him, if he would pass out from his injuries.

But he didn't. Although dizzy and disoriented, he stayed awake while Haggar took him by the hair and yanked him upright. His efforts to twist free were futile as Haggar wrapped her fingers around his neck with an almost inhuman strength.

"I could — should — kill you with magic," the witch muttered hoarsely. Her eyes, though little more than slits, promised dire vengeance, as did her tone, low and matter-of-fact. "But killing you with my bare hands will make your death much more personal, don't you think?"

Keith tried to answer, but he couldn't. His voice was drowned out by the roaring in his ears, much like the sound of angry waves battering the shore during a storm. With a terrible sort of certainty, he knew that unless he did something, he would soon be unconscious and utterly helpless.

Resignation replaced fear and Keith felt a bitter regret for all that should have and all that could have been. His princess was still alive, but she was a prisoner within her own mind, helpless to stop Haggar.

He looked up into Haggar's golden eyes one last time, searching for the elusive spark of life that he recognized as his wife and managed to twist his lips into a bittersweet smile that wavered and faltered as his strength faded.

Lance hunched forward on the pilot seat of the Red Lion and scanning the area through the high-powered monitoring systems. Though his attention was divided, he worked the controls of his ship with the skill and accuracy that had earned him a place on the Voltron Force. He directed his voice towards the miniscule microphone that linked him to the rest of the team. "Pidge, have you been able to raise Keith yet?"

"Not yet," Pidge responded, white-gloved hands dancing on his console. This electrical field generated by storm is fouling up our communications equipment, and since Keith brought with him an all-purpose transmitter..."

"The static electricity is going to garble the emissions from his communicator," Lance finished with a worried sigh. "Damn. I knew I should have reminded him to bring the heavy-duty one... Pidge, I think you should spend some time going over the designs so we don't have this problem next time."

"If there is a next time," Hunk muttered in dire tones as he casting an uneasy look at the rapidly darkening sky. "From the looks of this storm, Haggar's not holding anything back. According to my sensors, the wind speed increased by at least twenty-seven percent in the last five minutes."

"She's getting careless." Sven observed. "She should have known better than to summon up a storm like this. We can use the noise of the storm to cover the sound of our approach if we reduce our air speed and muffle our engines."

"Look sharp then," Lance ordered, tightening his grip on the control yoke of his lion. "The woman out there may look like Allura, but she's not the princess. Don't pull your punches. She's out to cause some major damage."

"But what if Queen Orla was wrong Lance?' Pidge asked plaintively. "Can't we fire warning shots first? It might be the Princess out there and you know that she wouldn't do anything to hurt us."

"We can't afford to take that chance," Sven said bluntly. "We have to assume that's Haggar out there, not the Princess. We have to be extra careful. Remember what Orla told us. Now that she's satisfied with Allura's body, Haggar needs to cut the Princess' ties to the outside world."

"That's what Keith tried to do." Lance said, his voice ringing with a forced confidence, audible even to his own ears. "We all know how much Allura loves him. He's our best chance at reaching her.. And if he couldn't... if Haggar hurt him... well, you remember what Orla said... we have to accept that Allura's... gone."