Fall Of The Empire
Rating: T-17+
Disclaimer: I don't own this. . . or do I? Nah, I don't. So don't sue me. I'm already in enough debt with my student loans.
Author's Notes: *waves.*
Hey guys! I promise I haven't disappeared from the face of the earth. But you know how I said I worked in South Korea? Well. I do. And I still am. Life is weird here. One moment I have a hundred free hours to do with what I will, and then suddenly I just don't. That and y'know - teaching is a full-time gig. As a first year teacher for elementary students, it's really difficult to try to come up with lesson plans that will appease everyone.
Well, that and I'm trying to put together a portfolio so I have lesson plans in case I suddenly decide to move and go to another country.
. . . Regardless.
Here you go, my present to you! I felt that after last chapter, unfortunately, I needed a "chill" chapter. Action is all well and good, but you do have to chill from it occasionally or else it's just overwhelming. But I do hope for some of our readers that this chapter will clarify some aspects of this story. Not all of them, but don't worry - the answers to a lot of questions are looming on the horizon. Also I love leaving little seeds for foreshadowing.
And Erica's still the wonderful ball of fuckin' cray-cray I love her for.
Also, we've hit 33k readers. : o Hello everyone! c:
Also also, Darkest Mind is still writing that wonderful gift fic. I love reading each and every single chapter, dear. It warms my heart that you'd make such a big project. Thank you so much. And don't worry, hun, I'll be delving into the depth of Erica and Markata's relationship soon. In the meantime, how about some Erica and Pumyra?
*Mumbles another line about Ashes. . .*
So here is the next chapter or you all! If you want to talk, feel free to drop a PM or leave a review or whatever tickles your funny bone. The next chapter will be met with more action. Originally I was going to combine half of next chapter with this one, but then vetoe'd it. If I don't start releasing material soon, nothing will get released. Urgh! Don't worry, though, WAR is getting her act together.
I'm hoping to upload chapters on a monthly basis again. Tentatively, let's schedule for that.
Lastly, as always, big shoutout to Lily and Anne. These girls are rad and you should definitely read their stuff!
Warnings: Nothing, except for stylistic things FF loves to om nom. Mild blood and gore. If you see anything with the first-person in it, it should be italicized. That is all.
. . . this text is here for a mysterious reason.
The room reeked of death.
Lion-O wrenched his eyes shut as he tried to breathe through his mouth, muting the flavors of it. He didn't want to smell it - let alone taste it - as it reminded him too much of the scent that had coated his father's body when he'd laid him to rest on a funeral pyre. He wanted her to live. He was tired of seeing everyone he cared for being hurt so deeply, whether it be by the hands of others or even his own.
Taking a few deep, shuddering breaths, he tried to calm himself. Lion-O felt like he'd been this way for years, his body aching and cramping, but he refused to move.
Not until he was sure. . .
He felt the wind shift behind him, but he didn't bother turning around to see who it was. It was the same routine, day in and day out. Every once in a while his brother would come up to check on him, his voice clinical and calm as he told him about the political proceedings for the day. Tygra didn't bother to let Lion-O know when he'd stepped into the room, but Lion-O could feel his brother standing beside him all the same.
For a while, silence reigned. Nothing was spoke, and Lion-O honestly didn't think anything needed to be said.
It felt like months had passed since they'd come back to Cat Town. To be completely honest, Lion-O didn't remember how he'd gotten back to Cat Town. He only vaguely recalled blackness sweeping over him. He'd felt Pumyra's blood staining him, leeching through his fur and armor and burning his body like acid. According to Tygra, Panthro had had to hold him down while Cheetara had applied emergency aid to the puma. And he'd had to hold him down for the majority of the ride back to Cat Town through the Feliner.
He'd been crazed. . . according to the rumor mill. Lion-O wasn't really sure if he believed that, though.
But his memories were faulty, and threaded through with black. He couldn't remember.
A faint, incredibly weak blip was coming from the machine in front of him. The dogs had erected the medical devices, and the one making the noise was something measuring her heartbeat. For the past few days, Lion-O's entire existence had boiled down to that machine. He'd been there to hear it go silent, had listened to the banshee-like screeching it made, alerting the world that Pumyra's heart had stopped. And he'd been there when the nurse Cats had resurrected her, bringing back the weak blip noises.
But he refused to move. It was his fault that Pumyra was laying on that bed. His fault that he didn't stop Erica. Actually, he'd been at fault for a lot of things.
A hand came down on his shoulder, and he almost flinched. He didn't deserve Tygra's sympathy.
Lion-O was fully content to wallow in his own misery. He figured it was an excellent penance to pay for his crimes.
"Lion-O," Tygra said, his voice muffled by the oppressive atmosphere of the room, ". . . you can't stay like this forever, brother."
Lion-O said nothing, his head hung low, his eyes shut. He didn't deserve absolution, or to be comforted. It was his fault.
Tygra squeezed.
Lion-O knew what that meant - Tygra wouldn't leave. Not until he'd opened his mouth and spoken to him.
"It's my fault," He croaked. His voice was raspy and hoarse - it was the first time he'd spoken in days. "Look what I've done, Tygra. Look where I've driven us. . . all because I was weak. I was weak and stupid-"
"No more of that." Tygra answered abruptly. "You need to be strong now. You can't let yourself be stuck here forever, Lion-O. Not like this. Your people. . . Third Earth needs you. As Father once said, 'it is through our grievances that we learn true strength.' Don't let this break you, brother. You're better than this. . . I know it."
Lion-O shook his head, feeling tears burning in his eyes.
Tygra's hand slid off his shoulder, and he heard his brother walking away and leaving the room.
Only after he'd heard the door shut did Lion-O dare raise his head, open his eyes, and let the tears fall.
Before him, on a raised medical bed, Pumyra lay. For once in her life, she did not look like the spitfire, aggressive, devil-may-Cat that he had come to know and love her for. No, she looked frail. Frail and weak and helpless, clutching to life by the tips of her talons, and it. . . it was his fault. Nobody else could bear responsibility for what he'd done. It seemed like months ago that he'd said he'd get to the bottom of his friend's betrayal. That he would carry out the laws, execute her by his own hand. . .
And look where it had gotten him.
This was the rewards for his efforts.
He smiled brokenly as he stared at Pumyra's face, but he made no move to touch the other cat. It felt wrong, to be taking solace from somebody who was on their deathbed. And Lion-O was so lost in his own misery that he didn't want to be rescued. He clenched his fingers together, hanging his head again, watching his tears fall. He'd cried for his father when nobody was watching. After he'd gotten freed from the grimy, black tar of his revenge, he'd cried in private.
Just like he was crying now, staring at her.
"I'm sorry." He whispered. "Pumyra, I'm so sorry. . ."
Ghostly feminine hands reached out, clutching at his.
"Lion-O," The faint echo of his friend murmured, "You need to rest. To get sleep."
His skin crawled where Echo touched him. Where he saw those alien, furless hands holding onto his. Lion-O shook his head. He didn't have the energy to spit vitriol at her today.
"No," He replied, "I have to stay here. I have to keep watch."
"You need energy. I promise you, Pumyra is strong. She'll live - you know that. Let somebody else keep watch."
Lion-O inhaled and exhaled, the sounds shuttered and distant.
"Who?"
The wind shifted behind him again.
"Kid?" Came Panthro's voice.
"Panthro." Echo told him, urging him to a stand, tugging on his arms. "Go. Get some rest in the Feliner."
"Panthro," Lion-O said, his voice hollow, "I think. . . I need some sleep. I'm going to the Feliner?" His eyes were riveted to Pumyra, but he felt the general come up behind him, give him a gentle tap on the arm.
"Go." Panthro said. "I'll keep watch. Call you if anything happens."
Lion-O didn't fight it. He spun on his heel and drunkenly made his way from the medical tent, towards the Feliner. What Cats scattered about said nothing, and for once, Lion-O hardly noticed their judgmental stares as he staggered towards the Feliner. Once inside of the aircraft, Lion-O tried to make his way to the bunk beds in the back, but his feet changed course and brought him to the cockpit, where he dropped into Tygra's pilot seat, exhausted.
"What do I do?" The child king asked, rocking softly back and forth in the chair. "Who do I choose? I don't. . . I don't know what to do. . ."
His voice faded, and Lion-O finally succumbed to his fatigue. In his mind, he felt the world shift. He dreamed, but it surreal - and different. He could see somebody, a figure, standing in front of him. He sensed there was a great, important message that they were trying to tell him.
The figure spoke, but Lion-O did not understand.
A single, feminine hand reached out, flickering in and out of existence. Two fingers delicately brushed over his mane. Where the hand touched, reality scattered - Lion-O did not feel it. But the reaction was intriguing to watch, at the very least, and the ghost stood in awed silence as they examined the phenomenon. If Lion-O did feel it, the sensation was blurred by his exhaustion and grief.
In his sleep, the lion was slumped forward over the control panel, one hand reaching out to the Book of Omens. His appearance left much to be desired - he'd stripped himself out of his armor and left himself in his vest. His face was etched with dark, tired lines, and it told the ghost everything they needed to know: he hadn't been sleeping. He was stressed. He was wracked with pain and guilt. The ghost supposed they should feel something for the lion, for the regret and anguish he was experiencing, but. . .
Either way, it didn't matter.
The hand dropped.
Shadowy bands formed on the wall behind the ghost, wrapping them delicately in inky tendrils. They did not protest as it engulfed them completely, shattering reality entirely. the dark, yawning chasm greeted them, and they didn't think twice as their form compressed, becoming more and more portable, and zipped off into the dark, its destination far from there.
She was actually very used to the feeling of being transported. At first she'd greeted it with fear, worried that her body would be crushed and pulverized, and she'd experience physical agony. . . but it never came. One never quite used to it, she supposed - having a body and then suddenly not. She'd had months to grow accustomed to the feeling, and each time was like the first. At least she'd managed to smother her fear. Her bones were never crushed, her nerves never lit up in pain. . . so, like a true soldier, she'd learned to control her fear.
She'd done it so many times in the past, why would now be any different?
A force shifted her, moving her in directions she had no names for. In this place, the void, there was more than up, down, left, and right. They were sensations she couldn't even begin to describe. Finally something reached into the black, curled itself around her, and pulled her up. In an instant, her body was given to her again, and she dealt with a moment of disorientation as she adjusted. The force deposited her gently on a cold stone floor, and she let herself have a moment to acclimate, to control the rampant nausea. . . which was a mystery in and of itself.
If one had no body, how could one feel sick?
Questions for another time. She was no philosopher, after all.
She was a soldier.
"Ah." Came a raspy, withered voice, "Just in time. Come, dearest, tell me what you have learned."
Pumyra opened her eyes, blinking in the dim light of what Mumm-Ra considered his throne room. He stood before her, hunched over, red eyes glowing in the sunken pits of his decrepit, withered face. Moth-eaten bandages swaddled his body, showcasing that he was nothing more than a feeble bag of bones. A red cape swallowed up the rest of him, adding fake volume to his frame.
Pumyra had never seen anything more glorious or beautiful.
She preferred him this way, in his true form. She didn't like it when he lied and adopted his 'human' skin just to fit the whims of some spoiled, psychopathic brat.
He stretched his hand out to her, and she accepted, gracefully dropping to her knees and pressing a feather-light kiss to the back of it. This was her lord and master. The one being who had defied the god of death and brought her back from the clutches of the afterlife. She obeyed no other. Gods above, she remembered her death like it had been mere moments ago.
She'd felt so helpless and alone, fear and panic gnawing away at her as the dark started to cobweb her vision. She'd been so weak, her heart had lurched in her chest with every beat, blood leaving her wounds. And she'd seen him - the unmistakable fiery blotch of red. Their prince.
The kind prince who could never turn his back on animals. The prince who seemed ill-suited to take the throne, his logic precarious, his ideas unorthodox. He was kind, gossipers whispered, far too kind, and he would be the fall of Thundera.
And in her last moments, she'd reached out for him, tears crawling down her cheeks. Surely, the kind Prince Lion-O wouldn't let another Cat suffer in her last moments, in pain, alone and afraid.
But he had.
He'd left her, walked away despite her cries and her tears and her blood, and he'd abandoned her to her agony.
But not Mumm-Ra. Mumm-Ra, her lord and master, had rebuffed death's cold hand. He'd given her a body, a life, a heartbeat again.
And she could never be more grateful.
"Pumyra." Mumm-Ra prompted. She eased back and dipped her head towards the ground.
Before she died, she'd never let her thoughts wander so terrible. And yet here she was, letting her head drift amidst the clouds.
"Not much change," She answered honestly, "The boy king languishes at my bedside. He has finally moved to our airship to sleep, his fatigue too great. Any longer, and he would have been unable to function."
She heard a pleased sound above her, something between a giggle and a cackle. "I do enjoy seeing pain - especially in those foolish enough to think to oppose me. . . but," He hedged, sounding reluctant, "Unfortunately, I cannot let him suffer for too much longer. Our plans are in motion again. You will be returning to your body soon. Very soon."
Pumyra craned her neck back to look at him. "Is it wise? I thought you wanted the child king to suffer, my lord?"
Mumm-Ra reached down, almost seeming to understand, to know the affection she craved from him. He gently feathered his fingers over her face before he cupped her cheek, and she gladly pressed herself against the embrace.
"Ah, but it would not follow the plan. I do intend to break him. Utterly. Wholly. Completely. But not yet. A premature victory would taste far too bitter. I have seen the ages through. I can surely wait just a handful of hours more. Now, dearest, what else? I sense you have more to tell me."
She nodded. "The political affairs are worsening every day. The Cats are growing restless. Tygra is still in charge. Lion-O is unfit for duty. Even those closest to him tell him that he cannot remain so for much longer. He must move on, regardless of whether or not I am there."
Mumm-Ra said nothing, letting out only a thoughtful hum. But he was happy, that much Pumyra could see. His eyes were glowing brighter, and his lips curled up at the edges. He dropped his hand, and though Pumyra bemoaned the loss, he waved at her.
"Excellent. Prepare yourself for your return to your body, dearest. And know that the next segment of my plan relies heavily on you. Do not forget your promise to me."
She was dismissed.
Pumyra bent low to the ground, her forehead almost kissing the stones, bowing as deeply as she could.
"I would never." She vowed. Around her, the hall shivered, as though there were others listening to her words.
As she got to her feet, Pumyra spun around, feeling the air thickening as she walked out of the throne room. She remembered very clearly the day that she had been Reborn - the throne room felt exactly as it did now. The air had been thick and syrupy, and she had heard whispers and voices. It had reeked of magic, ancient and old, something she didn't understand. She had been in a state of panic and confusion, still firmly feeling the dog-like bite of death's cold jaws latched into her. . . and Mumm-Ra had been there, stretching a hand up to her.
"If you take my hand, I can grant you the life that was so cruelly robbed of you. I can give you a chance to seek vengeance on those who spurned you. . ."
She was going to say no. Those reasons weren't enough to make her go back on her beliefs.
The dead were meant to remain dead. If she died, she could pass on to the next world.
". . . most importantly," He said, his voice a whisper of silk across her fur, "I can give you a choice to ensure the safety of your people. The survival of your race. Never again will such a tragedy occur."
Cats never again enduring the fall of Thundera? Cats living happily for the rest of their time. Cats never knowing war. Cats no longer suffering. All of these images and more flashed before her eyes. If she took his hand, if he granted her life, she could make sure these things came to pass. She stalled, however, her brow furrowing.
In front of her, Mumm-Ra's face split into a wide grin.
"Intelligent. I knew I was wise in choosing you. My dearest new general, if you are to take my hand, you must promise me one thing. In exchange for your body, blood, and soul back. . ." He trailed off.
Dead or not, Pumyra had never been one for theatrics. This time it was different, though. She could so plainly feel death hovering just in the wings, eager to snap her up again. And here was this animal - no, this creature, staving off that hand and holding a conversation with her. She moved her mouth, trying to speak, but no voice emerged. She frowned, confused again. He quirked his head to the side, as if listening to her silent questions, and those glowing red eyes pinned her, brightening. The room around her shivered, filling with an unseen force.
"You. I will own you. Mind. Body. Soul. What I command, you will do. The choice is yours. I will not make it for you."
His hand was still raised, still poised for her to take. Pumyra stared at it, her own hand shaking. What were the consequences of taking that hand? What would happen to her?
Images of Thundera's fall flashed through her mind. So many lives lost. So much innocence stained with blood. She'd died, crushed by stones, fighting to protect the Cats and the city she loved so much. . . and Prince Lion-O had just walked away. He hadn't heard her cries. He hadn't bothered to look through the rubble for Cats. He'd just walked out.
Anger flared through her, and without a second thought, she thrust her hand into his. And immediately, fire and electricity coursed through her. She heard secretive shadows whispering through her mind, she saw things and images of spirits she couldn't possibly understand. And he stared at her as he branded her, watching as she waded through the explosion of life back into her body. And she'd gritted her teeth and shouldered all she could, determined to withstand the tempest. That had only made his smile grow. And then it had ended, and he'd dropped her hand and spread his arms.
"Bow."
And she did.
She was gasping for breath, lost in utter awe. This god had defied death. He'd pulled her from the inky blackness and he'd. . . she could feel her heart beating again. She breathed heavily, like she'd been running a hundred miles without stopping. If he could restore life. . . her head snapped up.
"My lord-" She hadn't even realized she'd used the word, "If you brought me back, can't you-"
"No." He answered simply, drawing the red robe about himself, "I cannot. I had only enough power to save one of you."
Her heart lurched. All of those that had died in Thundera's fall would never know the miraculous second chance she'd been given. Her expression fell, and hot tears bit at her eyes, threatening to spill over her cheeks.
"I knew I selected wisely." He crooned, hooking a finger under her chin and forcing her to look at him, "Instead of begging me to destroy those responsible, you ask me to restore the lives of those lost. I heard your cries as you died. I felt your pain as you eased from this world - and I knew you would be able to assist me. Where those foolish Cats have failed, I will succeed."
"What do you mean?" She asked,feeling so new, so fragile. It was like it was her first day on Third Earth again.
His eyes glowed so brightly they appeared luminescent.
"Peace." He replied. "I offer only what I've wanted all these years. Peace."
Pumyra sighed, exiting the throne room and clutching the memories close. That was when she knew she'd made the right decision. Mumm-Ra had never espoused lies. He was only interested in saving the entirety of their planet. He wanted peace. And not just at Third Earth, but he wanted to spread his message to the galaxy. And she was more than happy to give herself to him for that reason. If she could prevent another Thunder, if she could ensure the survival of her race, she was more than happy to damn herself for an eternity, again and again and again.
Nothing mattered to Pumyra but her people.
Mumm-Ra had engineered the attack behind Thundera - she was no fool. But Thundera had crumbled in a matter of hours. Trickery utilized by the lizards had allowed them entrance. And biding their time, building their weapons of war, they'd destroyed Thundera. Mumm-Ra hadn't even been present until the very end, when the walls had already fallen, when lives had already been reaped. The Cats had grown soft and weak during their reign. There was no reason to be angry with Mumm-Ra. He'd simply proven what the rest of the world had known: Thundera was a lie. The leadership of the Cats was nothing more than smoke and mirrors. If they were truly strong, the walls wouldn't have crumpled in mere moments, no matter the circumstances.
Striding down the hallway, Pumyra steeled herself, slowly letting her thoughts rest. There she went on tangents again. Dying and being Reborn had changed her in ways she couldn't even name. She didn't like her turbulent thoughts, or how her moods might somehow flip from furious to docile in a second. Sure, some of it was acting, but a vast majority of it wasn't. At least it was still somewhat in alignment with how she'd used to be.
One or two stray lizards passed by her, but none of them saw her. Nobody could, unless they were blessed with the gift of magic, or the ability to see into the Astral Plains. Laughable that they thought they'd ruptured the Astral Plains. They'd merely destroyed a fragment of something that was infinite and unbreakable.
Pumyra knew, because it was how Mumm-Ra ferried her to and from her body. Astral Projection was a wonderful trick for a spy such as herself to ferret information back to her true lord. With Mumm-Ra's magic, she was entirely shielded from prying eyes during these adventures.
Regardless, she needed to steel herself for a fight.
As she made her way deeper into the Black Pyramid, she made a beeline for the human's bedroom. Mumm-Ra had said that their mission was finally going to move forward again. That meant - hopefully - that the brat would finally be back from some ridiculous reconnaissance of a jungle. Or something - Pumyra hadn't really paid attention. It hadn't concerned her. She only concentrated on what Mumm-Ra told her to do. As she neared the human's quarters, Pumyra found the door was open, and she invited herself inside.
Erica was there, a bag of some sort on her bed. She was rifling through its contents, pulling out sullied gear, stained with green vegetation. Ah. So they had been in a jungle. The white-haired human stopped, stilled, and turned around, blue eyes narrowing as she scanned the room. When she spotted Pumyra, she relaxed, if only marginally.
"Human." Pumyra greeted.
"Pumyra. What brings you here?" She asked. Her tone wasn't icy, but it wasn't welcoming. If Pumyra had to put a word on it, she would say it was coldly civil. Just a few steps above freezing - and yet somehow bored, like it was tedious to be speaking.
Pumyra examined her for a moment, watching her as she unpacked her bag. She threw clothes that were stained brown and green into a pile - a moving pile. Her annoying robotic companion was chirruping madly as she kept chucking clothes a tit, and it was trying to keep them from spilling out on the floor.
"Ro-E! Ro-E! Cleanliness! Barrack codes dictate that you key. . . kite. . . keep your room clean!"
Pumyra didn't know why it bothered. The human's room was meticulously spotless. . . in places.
In others, it was the domain of the insane. A mirror had been shattered, the jagged pieces stained red from where she'd probably flayed her skin. Or from where she'd cut herself - Pumyra didn't know how many times she'd had to help apply aid as the human had lolled, half-dead from blood loss, her obnoxious robotic bear following her guidance as he screeched about medical aid and psychosis and emergency.
The same mirror housed a vanity - Erica spent a lot of time drawing there, if the ink stains were any indication.
And she spent a lot of time doodling on the wall. Ink. Blood. It didn't matter to the artist.
Each drawing was more graphic and detailed than the last, every sketch fighting for dominance on being viewed first. It was a maelstrom of chaos. The thing that made Pumyra's blood grow cold in her veins, however, was the mural of a beautifully-depicted tree. An oak or a willow, or something very close to it, by the puma's guess. But it was beautiful and grand and she had to admit the drawing was gorgeous. But below the tree, at its roots, ink stains, black and bloody, marred the wall and floor.
Like the human had been kneeling before it, using the picture as some sort of shrine, lovingly touching its roots as she'd dragged her hands up and down it.
The Berbil squeaked (Lion-O had been very open about his adventures, telling her their tales), and Pumyra looked back to Erica, who had paused in her actions. The human was staring at her.
"I would like to know," Pumyra began, cutting Erica off before she could ask her why she was still there, "If you enjoy trying to destroy Lord Mumm-Ra's hard-worked plans?" She kept her tone calm and civil.
Erica's mouth stretched into a wide smirk. "What? Last I checked I did most of the fieldwork so his hard-worked plans can actually be done. You just do a ghost walk for some petty intel gathering. That's peon work."
"Enough." She growled. "I don't care to have petty squabbles with some human." She spat the word. "You nearly killed me with that strike! Just a little more to the left and I would been dead."
It was what Pumyra had come to berate her for.
The plan had been to stab her, cripple the Cats for a few days, injure their morale. But Erica had gotten far too carried away with the mission, with her fight, and Pumyra was incredibly bitter about the agonizing feeling of her sword biting into her gut. The human looked at her, and then she started laughing, caustic and acidic. Pumyra growled, her fury rising.
She was sick and tired of this human. Whatever she wanted, she got, Mumm-Ra serving it to her on a silver platter. She was a spoiled cub, nothing more.
She was sick of listening to Lion-O moan and whine about how she was his 'best friend' and how 'it wasn't fair to make him choose.' There shouldn't be a choice. Erica was screwing it all up! Lion-O was her boyfriend, and the Prince owed it to his people to finally make up his stupid mind and put her to death like their laws decreed. It was infuriating that she was the object of his affections. PUmyra should have been the larger object of those affections.
Pumyra whirled on her heel, intent on taking this to Mumm-Ra. Petty? Yes. But he always saw that the job got done.
The air crackled, and she froze in place. A force picked her up and slammed her into a wall just moments later.
"Animals," Erica said, the laughter stopping, her tone so icy that a shiver crawled down the puma's spine, "Show respect to their superiors. Never call me some human. Never turn your back to me. Is this understood?"
Pumyra gasped, trying to get air into her lungs, but the crushing force on her ribcage stopped her. She might not have a physical body, but Erica - somehow - could treat it like one. Perhaps it was because of the time the human had spent in the Astral Plains? Did she have abilities akin to Mumm-Ra's?
No, the second thought was absurd. And it didn't matter. Heavy footfalls suddenly drew near, and both Pumyra and Erica looked up to see Grune standing in the doorway. The old soldier panned the room, pinning his gaze on Erica, and then spotting Pumyra. Most animals couldn't see Pumyra - but Grune had spent time in the Astral Plains.
His countenance had changed. His eyes, once ringed with madness and insanity, had set in fierce determination. They were ancient, as well, as though he'd spent several lifetimes chained to the Plains.
He'd been like a ferocious dog concerning Erica. Wherever she went, he followed (save for the times that Mumm-Ra ordered he not), and Pumyra didn't understand why. The human hardly needed protection. And their relationship was far from friendly. Where Echo and Panthro had been friends, Erica and Grune regarded one another with cold indifference. Still, he rarely strayed more than a few minutes away from the human.
"I give you five minutes to solve this dispute." The ex-general deadpanned, "It will take me five minutes to reach Lord Mumm-Ra to tell him of this insubordination."
And that was all the Cat said as he ducked out of the doorway. The door shut behind him, and Erica breathed out a ragged sigh.
"Oh my god, look what you've done, you stupid cat. Now I'm going to be disciplined and I'm pretty sure it's your fault."
"What?" Pumyra hissed. "You are so, so far out of line-"
The human's powers whirled her around, dragging her from the wall, and invisible hands grabbed her, forcing her to stand ramrod straight.
"I told you, you stupid animal. You are not to address one of superior station. Now. . . I think a fitting punishment is in order. Sunny, get my book for me, please."
Pumyra bared her teeth at her, hissing. The human was going to slap her with her stupid fairytale book? Gods above, at this point, Pumyra would have gladly accepted Echo over Erica. Her counterpart had been stupidly naive and trusting at times, but she was far, far more tolerable than the human claiming to be Erica. Rager blistered through Pumyra. Why did Mumm-Ra cater to her whims?
From Pumyra's understanding, they had served in a war at some point, but beyond that, she didn't know. She didn't care. But her lord coddled her. And it infuriated her.
Sunny, relieved of his clothing burden, eagerly ran up to her side. "Ro-E. Is story time?"
"Yes. We have a guest. There's a story I think she should hear." Grabbing the book the bear kept stored inside of it, Erica flipped open its pages.
Pumyra wanted to ask her, 'really?'
She would have taken the book-slap over her reading a story. After a moment of flipping through the pages, Erica found what she was looking for. Tucking a wayward strand of white hair behind her ear, she traced a line on a page.
"Ah, yes, here it is. Once upon a time. . . when humans were plentiful and animals were dumb animals who knew how to respect their seniors. . . there lived a woman. A woman who lamented because she had everything. She was smart. She was beautiful. Men everywhere craved her, but she rejected all of their advances." Erica was reading from the book, but Pumyra stiffened, determined to keep her mouth shut. "She didn't have it - everything. She was missing something - something very important. And so, one evening, she invited the devil into her home. Her magic was great, and powerful, the most revered in all the land."
They were staring at each other, the book forgotten. Absentminded, Erica let her arms fall, and her robotic bear scrambled to catch the book before it could land on the floor.
"Sunny like this story." The little bear chirped. "Ro-E choose well. Sunny's favorite story."
"The devil asked her what she wanted - what she craved. And the woman said, 'I want power. I want the power to do what I wish.' And so the devil said yes. The devil stood in front of her, stretched out his hand, and whispered, 'Take it. Take my hand, and I will grant your wish.'"
The human had moved closer to her now, and Pumyra stared. Had she been present for her Rebirth? No, impossible. The human had been Echo, then, had been present with the Cats. The acid had slowly begun to leech from the girl's tone, replaced with. . . Pumyra's brow furrowed. She didn't know.
But she sounded almost. . . sad.
"The woman eagerly stretched her hand forward, but the devil pulled his back. 'Know this,' he warned, 'that in exchange for your wish, I require payment. You. In the future, I will require you.' The woman paused - it went against everything she believed. In that village, when people died, they were reborn in another life - maybe even another world. But to barter away her soul, her very existence. . . she would never be able to join her friends and family on the other side."
The force holding Pumyra suddenly shifted, and the puma let out a little gasp as she was suddenly laying prone on the floor. Erica stood above her, and Pumyra glared, fully expecting the human to do something evil, like stomp on her head or kick her. But no.
Erica sank down next to her, and in a move that completely baffled the puma, the human stretched out next to her, curling up into her side. Pumyra was completely and utterly speechless. Erica laid next to her, relaxed, as though they were close friends - or sisters.
"But the woman accepted." She murmured, her voice gentle, "She said the price didn't matter. Anything to get what she wanted. And she got what she wanted. Power. Her reputation and her fame grew. And eventually she met a man she deemed suitable enough to be her husband. And she was happy, because the gaping hole inside of her finally seemed to be filling. And on the day of her wedding, the devil came, wrapping himself around her.
"She protested. But the devil only looked at her and grinned. 'You believed it would be years into your future? You thought you could enjoy such a limitless gift for such a small price? Foolish girl. Foolish, foolish girl. . . I will grant you more time, if that is what you desire. In order for you to live and die of natural causes, you must take this knife, marry your husband, and immediately after. . . plunge it into his heart.'"
Pumyra hiccuped, feeling her body beginning to compress, her spirit leaving the realm to return to the void.
If Erica noticed, she made no mention. Her mental binds slipped away, but Pumyra was frozen in place. She couldn't have attacked the stupid girl even if she wanted to.
"And so the bride walked down the aisle, a knife tucked into her bouquet. She felt clammy and cold, the air stifling and thick. But the devil was watching and waiting. If she did this - if she murdered the man she loved, she could live and keep her gift. But if she did not, she would have to die. The bells tolled. Her grip tightened. Her husband looked at her with such longing, such adoration. . ."
Her words grew spotty as Pumyra's sense of hearing began to dissipate. She could feel life returning to her limbs, could feel a cold hospital bed under her hands.
". . . he kissed her. And she lifted the knife. . . sparkled in the light. Red dripped down, down, down. . . and the devil smiled. He'd gotten what he came for."
Pumyra winked out of existence.
And she opened her eyes in Cat Town.