Look who it is showing up three chapters late, and without even any Starbucks! Oh well, better late than never I always say. I loved writing a lot of this chapter because I'm love spooky magic shit and a lot of this chapter is spooky magic shit. We leave Lance's POV for a lot of this chapter, but he should be back to being the POV focus next chapter. Sometimes that's just how it is!
under the pale moonlight
chapter three
under the morning sun
"Anything to report?"
The private on watch startled at the sound of his voice, almost jumping out of his skin. "C-commander!"
He narrowed his eyes, knowing instinctively that the private had been slacking off. His senses may have been dulled in this skin, but he did not need his natural hearing to know that much. Normally, he would have punished the soldier quite severely, but these were not the deep forests of Daibazaal, but rather the human realm, so he stifled his instinctive urges.
"Report." He said coldly instead.
The private saluted, and he could almost smell the sweat trickling down the back of his neck. "Y-yes sir! There have been no abnormal movements to report!"
He simply stood there, starting at the man for longer than he knew was comfortable. The private's salute faltered, but he did not release it, out of fear that he would be reprimanded even further. He let him sweat- there were precious few things around here that he found entertaining, and at times he loathed having taken up this post. He knew how critical it was to his emperor, but playacting as a human proved tedious at times.
"Good," he finally said, "-continue your watch."
Turning away from the private, his hearing was just sharp enough to hear him exhale. Turning back to look at him, he arched his brows, grateful that the human whose skin he had taken had grown tall enough to be intimidating, a far cry from the lowly ranking perimeter scout he had been when he'd first stripped it from him to take as his own. He had worked to make it his own, slowly but surely, so as to not arouse suspicion- or superstition.
And the humans of this outpost were very superstitious.
But for all their superstition, they knew very little about effective warding. There were some places in the fort that were troublesome to him, but they were old, and not many went there- easy enough for him to avoid. The human skin protected him from the worst of his bindings- silver only tingled unpleasantly against his fingertips, and the bright light of the sun only made him feel mildly annoyed.
"Make sure to actually watch this time, private." He instructed- and took pleasure in the jerky way the private returned to his salute, at the fear he could smell from him. He wished he could do more, but he had an image to keep, and a role to fulfill.
This was the last human military outpost before the forests of Daibazaal, bordering the Lion's Mountains. He shot them a glare from where he could just make them out from the small window slit the private was positioned at. He knew that somewhere within them, lay the sealed princess, though even with his human skin, he was not able to venture deep into them.
There was magic there, magic that repelled him. Repelled all, save for the chosen paladins.
Stalking away from the soldier, he strode down the halls of the fort. Soon enough, this place would become the first outpost of the Galra Empire. The high priestess would see to that.
Once they were free of their forests, he could discarded this accursed skin. Whatever advantages it granted him, however much freedom it gave him, it was not worth being reduced to the senses and strength of a mere human. There had been times when he had been overcome by the urge to tear it off and be free, truly free- but Haggar was the one who had worked the spell, and he could not remove it on his own.
None of them could.
He came to a halt, suddenly realizing that there was an extra set of footsteps behind him. While that would have evoked fear in most of the soldiers under his command, he merely smiled.
"What news does the high priestess send?"
"The Champion has escaped." The shadow whispered, writhing about his feet but never quite touching him, out of fear that the spell cast on his borrowed flesh would send it back to its own rotten husk of a body. "He is hidden from us, in a human village. They burn fires, and we cannot get close."
"How did he escape?" He asked, narrowing his eyes.
"A traitor, hidden among our own. He freed him." The shadow informed him. "The high priestess wishes for you to bring him back."
He hummed, idly stroking his beard in thought. Growing one had been his first order of business when he had obtained this form- facial hair was the closest approximation he could get to having fur when he was so trapped in human flesh. He still kept it trimmed and well ordered, for humans frowned on anything less than a well-kept beard.
"The fools that work here will recognize him." He pointed out. "We are not so far removed that they would not recognize the Captain of the Royal Guard."
"They recognize your authority." The shadow observed, almost seeming to laugh at it. "Your men will carry out your orders faithfully, even against the Captain."
He did laugh, a low chuckle of amusement. As superstitious as they were, the humans who worked in the fort had never recognized that they were lead by what was ultimately only the approximation of a man. He looked forward to the coming day where he would be able to discard this flesh, and reveal to them the truth.
"They will." He agreed. "Tell the high priestess that Sendak will see the Champion returned."
The shadow flickered in response, but clung close to that of his own. It did not dare touch the bright sunlight that filtered in through the slit window before him- the morning sun was not as dangerous as when the sun was at its peak, but it would bind the shadow back to its rancid flesh until it managed to recover its strength.
It was a fate worse than even death, something which all those who became shadows had already experienced at least once. The spell that called their misbegotten souls from death preserved their flesh, though only in the vaguest sense of the word. Haggar would bind those who disobeyed her back into their rotting corpses and force them to work, until they were begging for her mercy, pledging their utmost loyalty to her and the Empire.
Those who had been shadows as long as this one had, had likely forgotten they were ever once human. It, like all the others, had likely been promised a new body of their own once the seal had been broken, and the Galra were once again free to walk the Earth.
"Vrepit sa." The shadow whispered, before vanishing, leaving him truly alone in the hallway.
Sendak smiled, even as his borrowed skin tightened around him. It always did, the few times his true name was spoken- like a reminder that the flesh he wore was not his own. It would last only a short while, he knew, and there was too much to do to let it get in the way of his work. Ignoring the pinching of now ill-fitting flesh as he moved, Sendak returned to the lookout, where the private was now visibly more engaged in his watch.
"Private," Sendak commanded, startling the man once again, "-run and fetch me the lieutenant. I have received disturbing news from the south."
At once, the private was on full alert- but he didn't miss the way he paled. Trouble from the south could only mean one thing.
"Commander!" The private saluted, his back stiff as a board. "What shall I tell him?"
"There is a Galra wearing the flesh of a man that is being hidden there by the villagers." Sendak informed him, not betraying any of the amusement he felt. "We are to take it into custody."
The private faltered, making a warding sign against his chest. It was ineffective, doing nothing worse than making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. "Yes sir!"
Sendak watched as he dashed off, narrowing his eyes slightly as he vanished around the corner. Whoever it was that was hiding the Champion within the human village clearly did know the correct warding techniques- the type that others like him had worked for generations to obfuscate knowledge of. He would have to be careful.
As much as he reveled in the idea of tearing this false flesh away, he would rather it be of his own choosing. As soon as it was torn away from him, he would lose the ability to walk underneath the sun, and for all the inconveniences of this flesh, the freedom it gave him was something that he reveled in.
It still was not worth the loss of his own natural self, but he would only have to wait a little longer before that form too, was free to go where it pleased. Soon, the seal would be broken- and with it, their emperor would work the clouds himself, covering up the accursed sun that bound them to the forest as much as Alfor's magic did.
It would only be the beginning. Once he regained the black lion, he would be able to do so much more.
Once again, the Earth would belong to the Galra.
He was surprised at how much of an appetite he had, given the circumstances.
By the time his stomach felt pleasantly full, half an hour had passed. They had heard nothing from the room Miss Lia and Shiro were in, though Pidge kept anxiously glancing back in that direction. He ate so fast that it was a miracle he didn't just choke on his food, tearing through three pieces of buttered bread and a surprising amount of cooked sausage before he left without another word, in a hurry to get back to Shiro.
He and Hunk ate at a more leisurely pace. Miss Lia's tone had been pressing, but not urgent. He, for one, wanted to at least have the time to swallow his food before he took the next bite, since he was pretty sure Pidge hadn't.
"So... what do you think?" Lance cautiously asked once Pidge was gone.
"About the food?" Hunk replied innocently enough.
"No, not the food." Lance said, rolling his eyes. "The- this! This whole Galra thing!"
Hunk swallowed, staring down at his muffin like it would somehow provide him with answers. "I don't know. I don't think Pidge is lying to us, but..."
He shook his head. "I really don't want the Galra to actually be real."
"Right there with you, buddy." Lance said. "This is nuts. I mean... the Galra? I thought they were just tall tales designed to scare people! That's what Marco always made them sound like!"
"Obviously not." Hunk muttered, his eyes darting towards the door. "So... what do you think the deal with Captain Shirogane's arm is?"
"I have no idea." Lance said. "Honestly, I have no idea what's going on at all. I just know that whatever it is, it's bad."
"We could leave." Hunk hurriedly said. "I mean... Miss Lia said we only had to stay until dawn, right?"
"I'm not sure if that's such a good idea." Lance frowned, glancing towards the window. Sure enough, he could make out the morning sun peeking out from behind the curtains. Squinting, he made out a dark stain across the dead center of it, and swallowing his sausage, he got up and crossed the room to take a closer look at it.
It almost looked like blood.
"Are you finished?"
Yelping, Lance pivoted on his heel, looking almost guiltily towards Miss Lia. She loomed in the doorway, watching him like a hawk.
"Oh, uh," Lance exchanged a glance with Hunk, who just sank into his seat, trying to look small, "-y-yeah. Yeah, I guess we are."
Hunk shot him a slight glare, and he shrugged at him helplessly. He knew how much Miss Lia intimidated him on a normal day, and today was definitely not a normal day.
"I was," Hunk began, sounding a bit uncertain, "-I was actually hoping to maybe go home? I mean, I didn't exactly plan to spend the night here, so my parents are probably worried."
Miss Lia frowned, before she heaved a slight sigh. "If you wish to go, I cannot stop you. It may even be for the best."
As if to illustrate the point, she stepped back, leaving room in the doorway for them to pass. Once again, Lance caught sight of the bandage wrapped around her wrist, fresher than the one from last night. Something was trying to put itself together in his head, but just wasn't clicking, so he tried not to think too hard about it.
All he wanted to do was go home. To enjoy the harvest festival, not worry about the Galra.
"I guess we're going, then." Lance said, exchanging a glance with Hunk, who nodded and rose to his feet- but not before stealing another muffin. "Thanks for uh... thanks for the food, I guess?"
Miss Lia merely watched them without comment, her gaze seeming distant. She was staring out the window, at the faint sunlight that poured in from it, illuminating the smeared bloodstain otherwise hidden behind the curtain. Part of him felt it didn't look quite right. Something about the color was off.
He shook it off, trying not to think about it. He just wanted to get back home.
She didn't move to stop them as they left the room. They paused outside the room Shiro was in, just barely making out the sound of Pidge and the Captain discussing something in hushed tones, and for a moment they almost wanted to duck in and tell them they were leaving. But something compelled them to change their minds, and instead they both made their way down to the first floor of the tavern.
By the time they left, Hunk had polished off his muffin. It was probably around mid-morning, Lance realized, but the streets were vacant of their usual harvest festival traffic. Or any traffic at all, if he was going to be honest. There were a few people anxiously milling about, casting nervous glances towards the tavern- and towards them, muttering in hushed tones under their breath.
"Okay," Lance arched his brows, "-this is kind of creepy."
"Un-huh." Hunk slowly nodded. "I think- I think we should just head home."
By the time they were halfway home, they decided that rumor of someone coming out of the deep forest with a clawed, purple arm must have spread, because people kept looking at them and whispering. In the town square, they could make out the still-moldering remains of the bonfire, a team of men dragging in new logs to be burned even though it was only supposed to be burnt during the first night of the festival.
"This is weird." Hunk muttered. "There's like... no one here."
Hunk was right- there wasn't. Other than the men and their trees, the town square was practically empty. It would normally be bustling around this time of day, harvest festival or no harvest festival, but today it seemed like nearly everyone was staying indoors. There were no merchants hawking their wares, no wives chattering, no children playing... nothing.
"Guess the Captain really got them all spooked, huh?" Hunk asked.
Lance slowly nodded, walking a little quicker. Hunk picked up the pace too, and soon their houses were in sight. No sooner than had they climbed up the slight hill they were both set on, the door to his house burst open and his mother rushed out, scooping him up in a crushing embrace that he didn't know she had in her.
"Oh, Lance, you're safe!" She exclaimed. "I was so worried when you did not come home last night."
"I'm fine, mama." Lance promised her, glancing over towards Hunk, who was getting a similar treatment from his own mother. "I spent the night in the tavern."
"Yes, yes, we were told." His mother continued to fuss over him for a minute longer, before she heaved a sigh, apparently satisfied that he was in one piece. "But you gave us such a scare! We could see things out in the dark, and we didn't know..."
"Wait," Lance cut her off, his brow crinkling, "-things? What things?"
His mother shook her head, a grim expression set on her face. "I don't know. Things that I do not think we should speak about. Shadows. From here on the hill, we could see all of it. They tried to come into the town, but were repelled back by the fire."
Shadows. Lance looked up at Hunk, recalling Miss Lia's words of warning.
"Keep the bonfire burning through the night, if they do not have it burning already. It will ward off shadows."
Is this what she had meant? Suddenly, Lance was almost regretting his choice to leave. If he went back to the tavern, then maybe he could start getting some answers. Suddenly they felt important.
And yet, at the same time, his feet still guided him inside, following the gentle yet firm prompting of his mother. His whole family was there save for Veronica, and suddenly he felt extremely grateful that she was hundreds of miles away in the capital. He didn't know why, he just had the awful feeling that if he didn't stop to see his family now, he'd never get another chance.
He really hoped he was wrong.
"Did she fall asleep?"
Shiro lifted his head, surprised by how gentle the woman's voice was. He was even more surprised by the blanket she had in her hands, that she was tucking over Katie- no, Pidge's- shoulders, an expression on her face that could almost be described as fond. Somehow it didn't surprise him that she had seen right through her lies that she was a boy. He wasn't sure why she was posing as one, or why she was this far away from the royal palace, presumably alone, but he was starting to get the feeling he'd been away for much longer than he'd thought.
"I think she stayed up all night." Shiro said, keeping his voice low. "She must be exhausted."
He nearly reached out to touch her hair with his right hand, before he stopped himself. He'd hoped that the arm was just the product of a bad dream, but as he watched his clawed fingers curl in on themselves, and felt the sensation of them pressing against the surprisingly soft pads of his palm, he knew it wasn't. Uncurling his fingers, he stared down at it, almost transfixed, the fingers of his left hand trailing up the length of it until fur abruptly turned into normal human flesh.
Not that his right arm felt strange to him. It felt right, like it was just as much a part of him as his other arm.
The woman- Lia- said nothing. She merely placed a basket down next to him. A quick glance towards it told him that it contained clothes- clothes and a lengthy roll of bandages, with a glove large enough to fit his new right hand. She cast him an expectant look, before leaving the room, giving him some privacy.
Carefully, so as to not wake the sleeping princess, he slid out of bed. He was a bit unsteady on his feet for the first few seconds, but he soon found his balance. Glancing towards the only mirror in the room, he grimaced- he looked worse than he thought, covered in a thick layer of soot and grime. There was a wash basin that had been set aside for him in one corner, which he helped himself too without hesitation, the stark white washcloth turning brown and muddied by the time he was done cleaning just his upper half.
He left it there, not even touching his right arm. He had no idea how he was supposed to care for fur, or even what had happened to his real arm in the first place. He felt like he should know, but just like much else about his year as a captive, he drew a blank.
Tugging on the clothes that Lia had provided him with, he was surprised by how well they had fit. Peeking in the mirror, he was relieved to find that he looked a bit more presentable than he had before, though he definitely wouldn't be suited for court anytime soon, not with a right arm that looked like it had been ripped straight off of a Galra.
He felt a cold chill run up the length of his spine at the thought. He tried to reassure himself that he was on the other side of the barrier now, that they couldn't chase after him... but the Galra had been out as far as the Lion's Forest. Whatever it was that chained them to the forest, it was starting to weaken.
He was halfway through wrapping his right arm in the bandages when Lia entered, not even bothering to knock. She merely cast a glance towards him, the privacy screen not protecting him from this angle, before she strode over towards the window, taking a peek out of the curtain. She narrowed her eyes against the bright sunlight, before she drew back away.
She sat then, watching him wind the length of bandage up his arm, tying it off in a knot with his teeth. But then, he didn't exactly expect much conversation- except for a few curt replies, she had said almost nothing during breakfast, merely sat there and watched him eat. Tugging the glove on over his right hand, he flexed his fingers, impressed at how well it managed to conceal the fact that he had claws.
That was going to take some getting used to.
"Do you really remember nothing?"
Shiro looked up, caught off guard by the abrupt question. "There's bits and pieces here and there, but a lot of it's a blur."
Lia frowned, narrowing her eyes. She seemed to mutter something under her breath, rising to her feet and stalking to the window once more. Frowning, Shiro tried to peer out from behind her, wondering what it was that she was expecting.
Or dreading. Dreading sounded like the right word for it.
"Who exactly are you?" Shiro asked. "How did you know I was coming?"
"I Saw you," Lia cryptically stated, drawing back from the window, "-stumbling out of the forest. I just didn't know when."
Shiro stared at her, something finally clicking to place in his head. "You're a Seer."
"Of a sorts." Lia said. "Though probably not the type you're thinking of."
She was right, and she probably didn't need any type of sight to know it. There were very few living Seers, most of them living on a secluded island in the middle of Lion's Lake, far towards the north. He'd never even seen one before, but he knew from their reputation that they were all willowy, pale, and delicate- and Lia clearly only fit one of those descriptors.
"What else did you See?" Shiro asked. "You keep checking out the window."
Lia narrowed her eyes, gazing out across the distance. "Trouble."
"Commander!"
Sendak barely spared a glance back towards his lieutenant, disinterested in anything save their progress. They were making good time, though not good enough for his tastes. He yearned to press the horses harder, but he couldn't risk it. The animal he rode barely wished to obey his orders at all, sensing what he was under his human skin better than any of the men around him.
"Report." Sendak said.
"We should arrive at the village by early afternoon." His lieutenant informed him. "What are your orders for when we do?"
"We find out from the villagers what they know." Sendak stated simply. "I'm sure they will be quite eager to guide us to whoever it is that's hiding a Galra in their midst."
The lieutenant hesitated for a moment, shifting on his feet. "Do you... do you really think it's a Galra, sir?"
"I have no reason to doubt the information that I received." Sendak stated flatly, concealing his internal amusement at the apprehensive mutter that spread out throughout the unit.
He would likely be able to capture the Champion in his weakened state alone, so the contingency of officers were more for show than anything else. It would impress the villagers, and make them more amiable to cooperating with him over the once-Captain of the Royal Guard. Not everyone believed the rumors that they had worked to spread, that the Captain had been the instrument behind the disappearance of the King and Crown Prince. Better to have some leverage.
Once captured, he would send the Champion back to Haggar, but not before killing a few of the men in his unit first, to make it look like he had escaped. Word would spread quickly, and before long, there would be few who would believe that the Champion was the true Captain Shirogane, and not just an imposter badly wearing his skin. Even if he managed to escape from them again, he would soon find himself without any allies.
Save perhaps for those mutinous Blades and their Seer-Witch. They must have been the ones who had helped the Champion escape- perhaps it had even been the Seer-Witch's halfbreed son who had enabled it. He was talented at both wearing and making skins, and was able to wield fire as no other Galra could, as most of them loathed it. He had quickly proved to be just as much a thorn in their sides as his mother.
"Listen up," Sendak barked, his voice carrying over the cluster of soldiers, "-we attack while the sun is still high in the sky. It will make the Galra weak and easy to capture!"
His words seemed to hearten those under his command- and he had to duck his head to conceal his own private smile of amusement. The fools had no idea that they were simply being used to do the dirty work of the Galra, and that by assisting him in capturing the Champion, they would effectively be sealing their own fates.
Once the Champion was returned, and Haggar's ritual complete, Emperor Zarkon would once more be free to leave the confines of the forest. The seals that Alfor had placed on him would be broken, and he would once again seize the black lion for his own, and lay waste to the humans.
The Blades could struggle all they wished, but all they would succeed at was to live long enough to witness the consequences of their treachery.
There was movement in the forest.
It was too far in for human eyes to see, but close enough to the border that the occasional ray of sunlight filtered in. Here in the deep forest, its effects were almost null, but the pair of Galra scouts still made a show of edging around the sunbeam, putting a safe distance between it and then, as if they expected it to leap out and attack them.
"Did you find him?"
"No. He must have gone the other way."
The pair of scouts stood there for a few minutes longer, discussing things between them. Maybe the one they were looking for had already crossed the barrier- his kind could do that. The same bonds that had imprisoned them in the forest for so long meant nothing to the Blade of Marmora, traitors of the worst kind to those of Galra blood. Alfor had spared them, and them alone, from the seal that bound the rest of them to it.
They were meant to be free of all the other seals as well, but Haggar had seen to that.
They had no idea that the one they were looking for was watching them, peering down at them from high up in the branches of one of the massive trees. He held his breath, careful not to make any noise until the pair of scouts split up once more, each heading in another direction to search for him. He should have been outside of the barrier, but he'd stupidly forgot that he had still been wearing his borrowed skin when he'd made his first attempt, and had been forced back because of it.
Using the skin of a Galra sworn to Zarkon was all well and good for infiltrating his castle, but it forced bonds on him that didn't apply to him otherwise.
He'd spent the next hour or so untangling himself from the frayed skin, and by the time he was done, the area had been swarming with soldiers and scouts. He'd had no choice but to abandon his plans of crossing over, and had scrambled up the nearest tree, high up enough so that nobody could pick up on his scent. Luckily, the wind was in his favor.
He huffed, crossing his legs, leaning back against the trunk of the massive tree. He was hungry, but he ignored it. He'd stupidly left all of his rations behind, along with the fake skin, to throw his pursuers off his trail. His mother would scold him for sure if she learned how careless he'd been.
Unless she already knew. She couldn't exactly risk crossing into the forest to get him, so he was on his own until nightfall.
Looking out towards the direction of the human village, he narrowed his eyes. The sunlight that filtered through the trees called out to him, but he knew that was a trap. His human blood might blunt some of Haggar's curse, but sunlight would hurt him just as it would any other Blade.
It was ironic- his mother had wished that was a fate he could be spared from, but that same desperate wish might have very well been what doomed him. Haggar's blood curse did not spare their children, but she had hoped that his human blood would be enough to counteract it. She'd even given him a human name in hopes of bypassing the curse- Keith.
It wasn't used much. The Blades all called him Yorak. It was protection, in the same way his mother had abandoned her own name long ago, taking up the name of Krolia instead.
Just as well, he figured. His human appearance was purely superficial. He couldn't even walk in daylight without the protection of his armor and mask. Which meant as tempting as it was to dash towards the sunlight, he knew he couldn't. The burns on his right hand were proof enough of that.
It also meant that he would have to wait here until nightfall, and then try and cross the barrier into the human village. He took some comfort in the knowledge that Shiro had successfully made it across, just like his mother had Seen. She could take care of him there, keep him safe until night fell, at which point he could join them.
That was another irony. His mother's long borrowed skin- to the point that it wasn't really borrowed anymore- allowed her to walk in daylight. She could embrace what he, by his birthright, should be able to- but couldn't. He was long past feeling bitter about it, having resigned himself to his fate. He wasn't sure the humans would want someone with Galra blood around anyways.
Crossing his arms, he stared in the direction of the village. Looking towards the sunlight hurt, but he could handle that much. He didn't feel like putting his mask up anyways. He'd adjusted to the armor well enough, but he never liked the sensation of the false face his mask was meant to serve as.
Regris always poked fun at him because of it. You use skins, he'd say. How can something like that bother you?
To which he never had any retort, and he didn't have one now either. Heaving a sigh, Keith closed his eyes. He'd already warded himself from Haggar's shadows, and he knew the witch couldn't come out this far herself. If he wanted to sleep for a spell...
He nearly lost his balance, a vision gripping him hard. Somehow he managed to hold on to the tree branch with his hands, clutching it so hard that he was almost glad for his dragon scale armor, otherwise he was bound to get a hundred different splinters stuck in the palms of his hands at the very least. Gasping for air, he came back to himself, his brain scrambling to do two things at once- remember where he actually was, and recall what the flash of vision had been about.
The first part was easy. The last part was harder.
He had Seer's blood in him, but it was borrowed blood. He shouldn't have it in the first place. He was capable of having visions, he just couldn't choose the when and where, or even the what. Sometimes he didn't even remember what they were about at all. Sometimes they weren't even relevant.
This time, however, he remembered.
Narrowing his eyes, Keith rose to his feet. Glaring hard in the direction of the village, he hesitated for a second- before he raced forward along the length of the tree branch, leaping from it to the one across from it, drawing closer to the edge of the forest. Once he was close enough that the sunlight became more than just patches, he came to a halt, not daring to draw any closer.
The vision had been brief- one of a man who was not a man, and Shiro, a blade pressed against his throat. Haggar must have sent out one of her spies to capture him.
But if he'd Seen it, then so had his mother. He yearned to do something, but he stopped himself. His mother had been alive for thousands of years, so he was confident that she had a plan. So he begrudgingly sank down into a seated position again, his gaze fixed on the village, all thoughts of sleep long behind him.
He knew he should- they had a treacherous journey ahead of them. He had walked the path to the Lion's Castle once before, when he had Seen his own destiny, but he had been unable to enter, not without the other four paladins. It had taken years for him to See them. Even his mother hadn't been able to, though she had tried. If they could wake the lions, they might be able to finish what it was that Alfor had started. Finding the paladins was their best chance.
They also knew that if Zarkon found them first, he would have them killed- or worse. It was why it had been absolutely necessary to rescue Shiro, though it had been imperative even before his vision had shown them his destiny. If Zarkon had his way, he would use him as a sacrifice to break the last of his seals, the ones that kept him chained to his castle.
They couldn't let that happen. If Zarkon were allowed to leave his castle before the black lion was bonded to a new paladin... then it would be over. He would be able to seize its power back, even from a vast distance, and with it, he could destroy the other four lions and the still slumbering princess.
Everything that they had done- that King Alfor had done- to stop him would be in vain. Then they would be the ones shackled to this forest, while Zarkon and his ilk walked the Earth once more to wreak devastation on the human world. That was exactly what the Blade of Marmora had been formed to stop.
It was the life he had been born into.
The sunlight crept a bit closer to his hiding spot. Keith raised his hood, determined not to move from his spot. His mother should have things well in hand, but if anything happened, he'd be ready.