The world was barren and gray. The overcast sky allowed little sunlight through, creating a land of semi-darkness. There was no wind; the air was dead and stale. It was not an encouraging world, and Somnolar nodded in approval. If he had to set order in his realm, it was fitting that the order should bring others no pleasure. And the order would not last long, just long enough to collect the power of those he’d found and provide for them a place where their horrors could take root.

With a sickly grin, he clutched at the black robes now sweeping around his shrouded form and vanished.

Once again, it was the growling of the Sword that awakened Lion-O. He opened his eyes and blinked. For a moment, he didn’t move. He couldn’t. He was frozen in shock. After the initial reaction had passed, he sat up slowly, rubbing his head.

From what he remembered, he’d fallen asleep in the Lair. The memories were a little fuzzy, but he was certain he’d been in the control room with Panthro before collapsing on the floor. It was painfully clear that he was not in the control room anymore. Looking around at the bleak landscape, he realized he had no idea where he was.

Lion-O got to his feet slowly, trying to shake off feelings of queasiness and vertigo. The Sword had ceased growling, but the Eye of Thundera continued to blaze in warning. Wearily, the lion brought the Sword to his face, silently pleading with his body to remain vertical in spite of his dizziness. "Sword of Omens, give me Sight Beyond Sight."

The Sword rumbled, blazed, and then Lion-O was thrown to the ground in the blast of an energy discharge. The Sword of Omens went flying and lodged in an outcropping of rock.

For a few minutes, Lion-O remained where he’d landed. The shock from the Sword had momentarily disrupted his nervous system, but even after it passed, Lion-O didn’t know if he wanted to get back up. That had been very unpleasant. After a few groans and some slow movements, the Thundercat managed to look over at the Sword. The Eye of Thundera was now closed. It looked all right, but something had happened to it when he tried to call on its powers. And the only thing Lion-O could think of was that something around him was using a lot of magical energy to block the Sword. The thought didn’t inspire feelings of confidence in the already shaken lion.

Deciding that standing was probably better than lying down, Lion-O pushed himself back to his feet. He was feeling very odd, but couldn’t pinpoint the cause of his distress. Picking up the Sword, Lion-O did what he probably should have done in the first place. He took a good look around.

He was standing in the center of some kind of mesa. It rose above a dark canyon that stretched for miles in every direction. Gray clouds loomed overhead, but there was no hint of rain. In fact, Lion-O guessed the tortured land hadn’t seen rain in decades. The mesa had steep sides, but nothing he couldn’t handle if he wanted to climb down and explore the canyon. And since there was nothing on the mesa, that would probably be his next move.

Have confirmed his belief that he had no idea where he was, Lion-O moved to the next step in solving his problem. How had he gotten here and why? Remembering back to the control room just before falling asleep, he started sorting through enemies that would be able to elude the scanners. Maybe the mutants and the Lunatacs, but it wasn’t likely. Mumm-Ra might be able to. But if it was the undead mummy, why hadn’t Lion-O been killed? Why transport him to—to wherever he was now? It didn’t make any sense. In fact, that was the main problem. Lion-O could accept that some kind of enemy had evaded their detection systems and planted sleep gas in the ventilation. That wasn’t hard to fathom. But why transport the Lord of the Thundercats to this barren stretch of land? Why not just kill him?

Lion-O started to walk toward the edge of the mesa. "Hello?" The sound echoed slightly off the canyon walls in the distance, but for the most part it was muffled in the stale air. "Is anyone there?" The Lord of the Thundercats waited for an answer. He really didn’t expect one, but it didn’t hurt to hope. It was so forlorn and desolate. There had to be something around to break the monotony, and sound seemed to be as good as anything. But for all it was bleak and vast, Lion-O didn’t have the sensation that he was alone. Quite the contrary. He was becoming acutely aware that someone, or something, was watching him.

The feeling had been there since he woke, but it was growing and had reached a climax when he began to shout. Something nearby was watching him and seemed to be enjoying his plight. At times, the feeling diminished, as though its attention turned elsewhere. And then it would resume its vigil. Lion-O was growing uneasy under its intense scrutiny and it bothered him that he couldn’t pinpoint its location.

Reaching the edge of the mesa, Lion-O studied his next move. He discovered that in the bottom of the canyon was a maze of smaller canyons, more mesas, and dark ravines. Which way did he take? The simple answer was down, so Lion-O started to maneuver himself down the steep slopes of the mesa. He’d worry about more specific directions once he got off the mesa.

The smooth rock face provided almost no handholds, but at the same time, there were no loose pebbles to slide on. Lion-O made it safely down and wondered what to do next. Without knowing where he was, why he was there, and who else was there, it was almost impossible to determine his next step. "Hey! Can anyone hear me?" Though there’d been no response the first time, Lion-O didn’t have another idea. He needed information and he needed help. "Somebody answer!" But there was no answer. Nothing stirred at the sound of his voice, and as far as his eyes could see, he was the only living thing around. If it weren’t for that nagging feeling that something was watching him, he’d have guessed he was alone. "I might as well be alone," he muttered to himself. "Whatever’s out there doesn’t want to show itself."

Still at a complete loss, Lion-O struck out blindly toward another mesa. He couldn’t even tell if he was wandering north, south, east, or west. The dim glow of the sun through the clouds was directly overhead, and the sun hadn’t moved since he’d awakened.

Deep in ominous thoughts, he almost missed the sound that broke through the dreary silence. Lion-O stopped and listened closely, wondering if his mind was beginning to play tricks on him. But it came again, and this time Lion-O could identify the noise. His heart began to pound and a surge of fear swept over his body. He knew that sound. That was Snarf! That was Snarf screaming for help! This alone was enough to concern Lion-O, but there was also something in the scream that Lion-O had never heard before from Snarf. It was a scream of pure fear coupled with a great deal of pain. Without thinking about what he might be rushing into, Lion-O took off.

Mumm-Ra sighed in frustration and disgust. His morning search through his hordes of spells and legends had produced nothing. He knew he had something about the foe called Somnolar, but he’d been unable to find it. And he didn’t recall enough to fight him on memory alone.

Dreams were really not Mumm-Ra’s department. About a year ago, just before summoning the Lunatacs from their tomb of cooled lava, the mummy had attempted to beat the Thundercats through their dreams. But it hadn’t worked and the end result had been rather disastrous. No, dreams were definitely not Mumm-Ra’s department. They were Somnolar’s playground and within them, Somnolar was nearly invincible. But not quite. He’d been beaten and banished once. But how? How had that been accomplished?

Closing the large book that lay in front of him, Mumm-Ra focused inward and tried to think. Where would information on someone like Somnolar be? But it was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate. The Ancient Spirits of Evil who empowered him had withdrawn their influence and without it, he was starting to feel wasted. If he did not regain their power soon, he would be forced into a state of endless slumber, never to wake again. Closing his eyes, he tried again to recall something about Somnolar and how he’d been defeated.

He heard Ma-Mutt wander up behind him, stepping gingerly through the dust of decaying parchment. The dog barked, demanding attention.

"Not now, Ma-Mutt," the mummy murmured. "I must concentrate."

Ma-Mutt barked again, more insistently this time.

Opening his red eyes, a hint of anger stole into them. "Ma-Mutt, I am not in a trifling mood. I warn you, do not disturb me."

There was a short growl and then Ma-Mutt began to tug on Mumm-Ra’s robes. Mumm-Ra whirled around in anger. "Ma-Mutt, I have no time for—" He stopped short. Ma-Mutt was standing over a scroll case and looking inordinately pleased with himself. His tail wagged and he barked again. Mumm-Ra bent to examine the markings on the scroll casing.

"Well done, my pet," he whispered. "Well done." His bandaged hands quickly opened the case and pulled out the scroll hidden inside. Reading through it, hope began to glimmer in his eyes. But as quickly as it came, it vanished. Ma-Mutt watched closely, sensing somehow that the fate of both himself and his master was tied up in this scroll.

After a few minutes, Mumm-Ra slowly lowered the scroll, a contemplative look on his face. The scroll was placed back inside its casing, but Mumm-Ra didn’t move immediately. "There is a way, my beauty," the mummy said quietly to his pet. "There is a way, but I cannot see how it will work."

Ma-Mutt cocked his head and perked his ears up. Mumm-Ra studied him, an idea slowly forming in his mind. "It will have to be accomplished by those under the spell," he said slowly. "And they must learn of it from those they trust." Mumm-Ra continued to think and finally made a decision. "Come Ma-Mutt. I have an errand for you."

The dream was almost like falling. It was terrifying, gut wrenching, and painful. The painful part was a bit of a mystery, as falling didn’t usually hurt until impact, but Cheetara wasn’t calm enough to consider that. She’d never had a falling dream before, and she didn’t want to have one again. That was another strange thing. She knew she was dreaming, but she could do nothing to alter the dream.

Yet another problem with the dream was that she couldn’t see anything. It wasn’t that her eyes didn’t work. It was that there was nothing to see. And she was still falling. But falling through what? she wondered. There’s nothing to fall through.

And then reality seemed to impose itself upon her. It wasn’t normal reality; it was a different reality. But with it, the sensation of falling lessened. She still couldn’t see, but that was due to a sudden blackness over her eyes. But she could tell there were now things around her. Or were there? They seemed strange, as if they really weren’t there and never had been. Reality once again forced its way through her mind and the objects she sensed around her seemed to anchor themselves in existence. And then her sensation of surroundings disappeared as her sixth sense was suddenly banished.

There was a moment of dizziness and then the falling sensation stopped altogether. For a short while, she was completely lost, not realizing just how much she’d come to rely on her sixth sense for sensory perception. And then she began to feel ground beneath her. Rocky ground boring into her back. Cold ground sending shivers down her spine. But it was ground. It was solid ground, as opposed to the nothingness she used to be in.

"Cheetara?"

Through the haze of imposed reality, a voice was calling her name. She struggled to answer, trying to rouse herself from whatever dream she lay trapped in.

"Cheetara? Come on girl, give me some kind of sign."

It wasn’t easy to comply. Reality was no longer rigid but flowed around her in a state of flux. And something was still blocking her sixth sense. She couldn’t tell if the one calling her name was friend or foe.

"Wake up, Cheetara. This is no place to sleep."

There were arms lifting her back now, pulling her into a sitting position. The strong arms supported her head, which she could feel flopping around. If she could only get a handle on reality, she might be able to answer the voice. And then her sixth sense flared back to life. With her heightened awareness, she suddenly felt something watching her. Watching both her and the one with her. But this something was not friendly. It seemed to realize she’d found it and turned its powerful mind toward her. She struggled to pull away, to defend herself, to fight back, but the something out there was stronger. With a whip-like mental snap, her mind was sent reeling in darkness. Her sixth sense disappeared once more and the fluid reality solidified.

Cheetara couldn’t tell what had happened, but she did know one thing. She was now able to wake up. Opening her eyes, she stiffened and stared at the sky overhead in disbelief. She’d gone to sleep in the Lair. Where was she now? The cheetah waited for a sign that she was still dreaming, but something deep inside knew she was not. "By Jaga," she whispered.

"That was my reaction."

Cheetara glanced toward the voice in surprise. She’d thought the sensation of being held had also been part of the dream. But to her surprise, she found Panthro’s concerned eyes watching her intently.

"You okay?" the panther asked. "You didn’t wake up for a while."

Cheetara nodded slowly, feeling a large headache building. With Panthro’s aid, she managed to get to her feet. "Be careful," he warned. "You look a little unsteady. When I woke up, it took me a while to get to a sitting position."

"Thanks," she murmured. She took a few cautious steps away from the panther, testing the ground. Something felt very wrong, but she had no idea what. Looking around again, she shook her head in disbelief. "Where are we?"

"No idea," Panthro said quietly, gazing around. The bleak landscape was a tumble of rock outcroppings, canyon walls, and rifts in the ground. "I’ve never seen this before in my life. Doesn’t look like anything on Third Earth or Thundera."

"How did we get here?" Cheetara was still reeling from shock.

Panthro shrugged. "Your guess is probably as good as mine. The last thing I remember is the night watch. Lion-O walked in while I was practicing with my nunchucks and complained about the Sword. Apparently, it was warning him of something attacking the Lair, but there was no sign of anything. Nothing on the computers told us anything. And then we both got really sleepy. That’s about all I remember." Panthro shook his head and growled softly. "Whatever happened, our weapons are gone. I looked for my nunchucks but I couldn’t find them anywhere."

Cheetara glanced down at her wrist guard and discovered that her staff was also missing. "So we’re weaponless and lost," she murmured. "What else do we know about our situation?"

"That’s about it," Panthro answered. "I woke over there on that hill. It was sheer luck that I wandered this way and found you."

"Do you suppose anyone else is here?" Cheetara wondered.

"I don’t know, Cheetara. I’m not sure of anything in this place."

The cheetah pondered this for a while, trying not to show her concern on her face. Panthro didn’t usually admit his shortcomings and it frightened her that he was this shaken. She was about to say something to him, she didn’t know what, when she stopped. "Listen," she hissed. "Did you hear that?"

Panthro cocked his head and nodded. "Someone’s coming."

"What do we do about it?"

"We’re weaponless," Panthro mused softly. "And we’re both still shaken. Let’s set an ambush. Whatever’s coming will walk on the other side of this rock wall. We’ll just wait at the end."

Cheetara nodded in agreement and the two scrambled quickly to the end of the wall and continued to listen. Someone was still coming, but now the footfalls had become slower and more cautious. "I think they heard us," Cheetara whispered.

"Shhh," Panthro warned. "Wait."

The footsteps were very close, but all of a sudden, they stopped. There was some shuffling back and forth, as though someone was looking for a firmer grip on the ground. Then the footsteps could be heard easing away from the wall.

"You were right," Panthro growled in a hoarse whisper. "They heard us. I say we jump out together and face whatever’s there."

"Sounds like the only reasonable option," Cheetara conceded.

"Count of three, then. One…two…three!"

Panther and cheetah leaped from their hiding place, ready to confront their stalker. At the first sound of their coming, the stalker had leaped into the air and was coming down on them faster than they could track. But in mid-flight, their attacker suddenly cried out and Cheetara and Panthro both gasped. Breaking his attack off, the stalker tumbled between them and righted himself just beyond the two Thundercats.

"Tygra?" Panthro demanded. "Why are you attacking us?"

"Why are you two sneaking around and ambushing people?" Tygra shot back.

"You sneaked up on us!" Panthro retorted.

"I was looking for help and thought I heard voices. When the voices stopped and something started scuffling around, I got suspicious. What would you have done?"

"I wouldn’t have attacked," the panther snorted.

"Yes, you would have. You’ve attacked for lesser things," Tygra scoffed.

"What exactly are you saying?" Panthro asked, his voice becoming dangerous.

"Whoa!" Cheetara shouted, jumping between the two. "What are we doing? This is stupid! Tygra, we’re sorry we sneaked up on you. You’re sorry you attacked us. Everything’s okay now and we’re all friends." She glared at the two Thundercats until they both reluctantly nodded. "Much better. So Tygra, what are you doing here?"

"I might ask you two the same thing," Tygra answered, still slightly indignant. "I went to sleep in the Lair. I woke up the bottom of a ravine over there. I was rather surprised, I’m still shocked, and I don’t have my bolo whip. Other than that…" The tiger sighed. "I don’t know anything else. Any guesses as to where we are?"

Cheetara glanced at Panthro who shook his head. "I’ve never seen anything like this before."

"And I’ve jogged over most of the terrain in the northern hemisphere," Cheetara stated. "I’ve never seen anything remotely resembling this place."

"Maybe we should figure out who brought us here," Panthro growled. "That might tell us where we are."

"Maybe," Tygra murmured. "Although…"

"Although what?" Panthro asked.

Tygra shook his head with a look of confusion on his face. "There’s something funny about this place that I don’t like. I don’t think someone brought us here. Not in the sense you’re talking about. Call me crazy but it seems—unreal."

"I feel the same way," Cheetara quickly agreed. "There’s something about this place that just doesn’t feel right. When I was first waking up, I could have sworn I was falling. But I wasn’t really falling because there was nothing around me. And then something seemed to force me to…to believe I was here. I know it sounds stupid, but that’s what it felt like."

"What about your sixth sense?" Panthro questioned. "Does it tell you anything?"

Cheetara shuddered. "Not really. When I first woke up, something turned off my sixth sense. I don’t know how else to explain it. And then it came back and found—something watching us. I don’t know what, but it wasn’t something nice. Then it sensed me watching it and my sixth sense was turned off again. Right now…right now I’m not sensing much of anything. I just feel this is wrong. Something here is wrong."

"Our situation is beginning to look worse and worse," Panthro commented. "I’m not sensing any of this. It seems real enough to me."

Tygra suddenly stiffened. "That’s it," he murmured.

"What’s it?" Cheetara asked.

"Let me try something first." Tygra looked at Panthro and narrowed his eyes. Cheetara watched curiously, wondering what was going on. Panthro cleared his throat and stared back at Tygra. After a minute, Tygra broke off his stare and shook his head. His breath was coming a little harder than it had been a minute ago. "I guess that explains it, then."

"Explains what?" Panthro demanded. "What was that all about?"

"I tried to give you an illusion," Tygra explained. "I couldn’t, because you already have one. We all do. This place is just a giant illusion."

"An illusion?" Panthro looked highly skeptical. "What makes you think that?"

"Call it a trick of the trade. Because I can create illusions, I can usually see beyond them, too. That’s what was throwing me off. This is an illusion, but it’s one so powerful that I can’t see through it. I can only tell that this isn’t reality."

"You sure? You weren’t able to see through Silky’s illusions."

Tygra bristled. "I was drugged."

"You could be drugged now," Panthro returned. "And then there was the keystone. Explain that one away."

Cheetara was afraid she’d have to jump between Panthro and Tygra again, but Tygra managed to keep his temper. "In those instances, I was addicted and I didn’t want to see through the illusion. To an extent, I could. To an extent, I knew something was wrong. But I didn’t want to acknowledge it, because the illusions were making me feel…" The tiger trailed off and sighed softly. "They made me feel like I was worth something." Tygra glared at Panthro. "Satisfied? This area isn’t doing anything for my self-esteem and I seriously doubt it will become an addiction any time soon."

Panthro lowered his eyes, unwilling to look at the tiger. "I’m sorry, Tygra," he apologized. "I believed you before, but I didn’t want to admit it. I don’t understand illusions and I feel helpless when trying to fight them." The panther looked out over the horizon and shook his head in disbelief. "So this is an illusion. So what do we do about it?"

"Since this is an illusion, we should be able to disbelieve in it and get out of here," Cheetara reasoned.

"Sorry to dash your hopes," Tygra sighed, "but this illusion is a little more complex than that. You’re used to dealing with illusions from the tiger clans. Some of us are fairly good at them, but none of us are this good. No tiger has ever been this good. This kind of an illusion…" Tygra broke off, as if considering whether or not to continue. He grimaced and made his decision. "This illusion is one so powerful that whether or not we believe in it, we’ll still be trapped in it."

"So how do we get out of here?" Panthro asked.

"We beat whoever’s making the illusion. It’s probably the thing that Cheetara sensed when she first woke up."

"How do we do that?" Cheetara questioned.

Tygra shook his head darkly. "A good question. The problem is that in this kind of an illusion, the creator can make whatever he or she wants. If they want to create an explosion that will tear us to pieces, they can do it instantly. If they want a piece of the ground to suddenly shoot skyward and impale us, they can do that, too."

"Tygra, correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re saying that we can be killed in an illusion," Panthro said quietly.

"That’s exactly what I’m saying," the tiger responded. "This illusion is so powerful, that if we’re killed here, it might as well be reality. Our minds will be so firmly convinced of our deaths that our bodies will follow. Though this itself isn’t real, death can be very real. And the creator of this illusion only need wish it."

Snarfer hummed softly to himself as he worked on the Thunderstrike’s main pod in the Tower’s hanger. It wasn’t a big job, just replacing a few circuits in the scanners, but he forced himself to check the entire electrical system. He needed to do something to take his mind off of what was happening at the Lair and manual labor seemed to be working.

But even as he worked, his mind continued to drift. He thought back to what Pumyra had said about Uncle Snarf. According to the healer, Snarf’s body was shutting down little by little. All his brain functions were down except those needed for simple survival. Snarfer shuddered and accidentally burned out a circuit relay with his trembling. Grumbling, he tried to concentrate on the job at hand. But it was such a routine job. He could have done it in his sleep had he needed to. It wasn’t calling for his full attention and so his mind wandered to places he’d rather not go.

With his distracted mind torn between the Thunderstrike and Cat’s Lair, it was no surprise that he jumped several times his own height when he first heard the howling. After landing, Snarfer crept softly past the Thunderstrike and listened. The howling started up again, louder this time and more demanding. Shivering but almost forced to follow the sounds, Snarfer stepped out of the hanger and into the wind-swept desert that surrounded the Tower of Omens. "Hello, snarfer," he called. There was no immediate response, but after a moment, the howling continued. It was an eerie howl, almost supernatural in nature, but at the same time, there was a hypnotic aspect to this howl. It demanded Snarfer’s attention and commanded him to follow its sound.

Snarfer could easily tell from which direction it came, and he was quite tempted to follow it. But he’s grown since joining the Thundercats and had more self-control than that. Moving back inside the hanger, he hit the intercom and called for Lynx-O.

"Lynx-O here. Is this important, Snarfer?" the old lynx answered in a voice that told Snarfer he was interrupting something, but the young snarf really didn’t care.

"Lynx-O, something’s howling just outside the hanger and I think it wants me to look at something, snarfer, but I don’t know if I dare go outside."

Up in the control room, Lynx-O’s forehead furrowed. "Snarfer, would you like to repeat that?"

"Something strange and probably mean wants me to go outside the hanger and follow the sound of its voice," Snarfer tried again. Though he didn’t possess Snarf’s ability to speak to animals, sometimes he could make out what they were trying to get across. This was one of those times.

Lynx-O rubbed his head. This was turning into a very long day. "And what do you think you should do?"

"Whatever’s out there sounds honest," Snarfer answered. "I was thinking that maybe you could keep an eye on me, snarfer, with the sensors just in case something goes wrong."

Lynx-O had already run a sensor sweep of the area and discovered no life signs around the Tower. It was possible that Snarfer was imagining the whole thing, but too many strange things had happened that day for Lynx-O to accept that. "Very well, Snarfer. Take a look, but don’t wander far from the Tower. Is the Thunderstrike in any condition to fly should I need to retrieve you?"

Snarfer took a look at the partially dismantled vehicle behind him. "Um, no. Not really. But I don’t think I’m in any danger."

The old lynx sighed. "Then proceed, Snarfer. But be careful." Under other circumstances, Lynx-O would have probably denied Snarfer his request. But something was telling him that Snarfer needed to investigate.

Snarfer now registered on the Braille board’s scans outside the Tower. He was proceeding slowly, inching his way toward a ridge of rocks. The process seemed to take forever, but eventually Snarfer stopped, paused, and then scampered back inside. It wasn’t long before the intercom was activated again. "Lynx-O, I think I may have something important here, but I can’t tell."

"What is it?"

"I’m not sure, snarfer. It looks like an old scroll from Third Earth’s previous ages. But it’s in some archaic language and I can’t read it."

Lynx-O frowned as he pondered over this new turn of events. He’d managed to catch the last of the howling on speaker, and while Snarfer explored outside the Tower, he’d identified the howler as Ma-Mutt. It was very possible that this scroll was some kind of a trap. But his instincts insisted that it wasn’t. "Finish the repairs on the Thunderstrike," Lynx-O finally said. "And get the scroll up here. We’ll see what the Braille board can make of it and then take it over to the Lair.

Lion-O leaped over a rock outcropping just in time to see a figure cloaked in billowing robes leaning over Snarf. A long blade dripping with blood was held at Snarf’s neck, but Snarf wasn’t responding to it. He just lay there as the blood dripped off the sword onto the fur of his chest. It took Lion-O only a second to tell that the blood he saw was Snarf’s own. Roaring with anger and rage, the lion swept the Sword of Omens toward Snarf’s attacker. "Ho!" The Sword sparked, shook, and then overcame whatever had been holding it back. A blue stream of fire shot out from the end and hit the figure just as the blade came slashing down for the killing stroke. Grunting in surprise and pain, the black-cloaked demon rolled across the barren landscape as he tried to absorb the momentum of the blast. Lion-O quickly reached Snarf’s side and stood ready to fight.

Rolling to a stop, the figure stood back up and two golden eyes glared at the lion from within the folds of a black hood. There was a moment of uncertainty in those evil eyes, and then it was gone. The robes swirled though there was no wind, and the mysterious attacker seemed to fade out of existence. Lion-O shook his head in confusion and then dropped to his knees beside Snarf.

"Snarf? Snarf, are you okay?"

For a second, Snarf didn’t respond. It was as though he were trapped in some kind of trance. Deep shock, something within Lion-O yelled. He’s in shock, you idiot! The lion tried to recall how to treat for shock, but at that moment, Snarf blinked, moaned, and clutched his chest. It was only then that Lion-O realized the full extent of Snarf’s injuries. Blood welled up from beneath the thick fur of his chest and numerous cuts and abrasions webbed their way across his body.

"Snarf, what happened? Come on, speak to me!" Lion-O was beginning to experience a surge of panic. He was no healer and had no idea what to do for Snarf. Stop the bleeding, that voice within himself commanded. Stop the bleeding! And you still need to treat for shock! But there was a big difference between knowing what to do and having the experience to back that knowledge. Where were Tygra and Pumyra when you needed them?

"Lion-O?" Snarf’s voice was a whisper, barely audible. Had it not been for the deafening silence of the land, Lion-O would have probably missed it. The lion leaned closer to Snarf’s head, trying to block the injured Thundercat’s view of the bloodied chest.

"Don’t talk, Snarf, just rest. I’ll have you fixed up in no time."

Snarf moaned again. "How bad?" he whispered.

"It’s not too serious," the lion lied. "We’ll just need a few bandages, that’s all." Lion-O didn’t notice he was getting Snarf’s blood all over himself but he did notice just how much blood there was. The chest wound was deep and starting to imitate a fountain.

Snarf suddenly began to cough and Lion-O held him while he did so. When the coughing subsided, Lion-O was shocked to find that Snarf had coughed up large amounts of blood. Nor did this go unnoticed by Snarf who then looked down at his chest and groaned. "You don’t call this serious, snaaarrrrffff."

"Don’t worry," Lion-O tried to reassure him. "You’ll be fine. Come on, you’ve pulled through worse than this." Lion-O was hard pressed to think of an example, but he was fairly certain that Snarf had experienced worse than this. Maybe. The lion ripped off pieces of his uniform and tried to block the flow of blood, but to his dismay, there were now rising air bubbles in the wound. At least one lung had been punctured and was probably filling with blood, too. Snarf coughed up blood again, struggling to find air to breathe. "Don’t quit on me now, Snarf," Lion-O warned with a growl. "Keep fighting, that’s an order!"

"I can’t," came the whispered reply. A feeble paw clutched at Lion-O’s hand that held the strips of uniform in place on Snarf’s chest. "I’m sorry."

"No you don’t, Snarf! You’re stronger than that! Come on, you’ve got to pull through!"

"Sorry, Lion-O. I’ll miss you." And with those last words, Snarf seemed to relax. His eyes rolled back in his head, his breathing became deep, even, and then it faded away. The blood on his chest glistened but no longer flowed.

Lion-O knelt there frozen in shock and despair. He gave the tiny shoulder a gentle nudge. "Snarf?" But there was no answer. The body endured one final shudder, and then went completely limp. "Snarf?" Though he didn’t know it, tears were streaming their way down his cheeks. "Please, Snarf. Please don’t do this." But it was no use. Fate had claimed him as fate would eventually claim everyone.

Lion-O stumbled to his feet. His eyes were blurred and he couldn’t see. But maybe it was better that way. He didn’t have to look at his friend lying there in a pool of blood. He didn’t have to see what his heart was still refusing to believe.

He absently realized that he was clutching the Sword of Omens. The other Thundercats. Whatever had—done this to Snarf would still be out there. And if Snarf was here, the other Thundercats might be here, too. They had to be warned. "Thunder—Thunder—Thunder—Thundercats! HO!"

The Sword blazed, but the dampening field was back and the Thundercat insignia did not flash into the sky. But the land was suddenly shaken under the forces of the powers required to restrain the Sword. And in that brief moment while the powers that shut down the Sword struggled to regain their control, the Eye of Thundera felt danger. Without really knowing what he was doing, it was more like a conditioned reflex than anything else, Lion-O brought the sword to his tear-stained face. "Sword of Omens, give me Sight Beyond Sight!" And in one brief glance before the Sword’s powers were negated once again, Lion-O saw Cheetara, Panthro, and Tygra. They stood walking together in the same land Lion-O had found himself in. But they didn’t see the danger stalking them from behind. The same danger that had taken Snarf.

Lion-O roared with primal fury and began racing in the direction he knew his friends to be. If Snarf was to have company in death, it was going to be that demon thing that had taken the life of Lion-O’s life-long friend and companion. Snarf would be avenged.

For what felt like the hundredth time, Bengali watched security camera replays of the night before. And found nothing he didn’t already know. Lion-O took the Sword from the Sword Chamber. Several times he used Sight Beyond Sight. He went to the control room where he and Panthro ran defense tests on the Lair and found nothing. What happened next was what needed to be explained, but Bengali was nowhere near finding a solution. Panthro and Lion-O both fell asleep while Lion-O was trying to call the other Thundercats with the Sword. And as they fell asleep, the Sword became fainter and fainter until it just disappeared. "There was no physical Sword-napper," Bengali mused. "Panthro and Lion-O both fell asleep on watch but for no apparent reason. Nothing unusual has been logged in the ventilation. Water systems are untouched. No sign of drugs in their bodies, according to Pumyra. And an absence of brain activity." The white tiger shook his head. It was a puzzle, and one they needed to solve quickly.

Bengali mulled over possible solutions, but nothing stood out in his mind. There was just too much they didn’t know. The Thunderkittens had mentioned that Mumm-Ra once tried to attack the Thundercats through dreams and Lion-O had been unable to rouse them from sleep in that instance, but the circumstances were different this time. Mumm-Ra didn’t have the power to cause Panthro and Lion-O to fall asleep like that without the computer systems logging something about it. And it didn’t feel like Mumm-Ra’s work, either. If the old bundle of rags was behind this, he should have come after the other Thundercats, too. But he hadn’t. So what was going on? With a frustrated sigh, Bengali reached for the controls that would play back the security tapes yet again.

But he never made it to those controls. The intercom from sickbay signaled red alert. Slapping the speakers on, Bengali immediately heard commotion and what sounded like a flat-line on an EKG machine. The tiger almost turned the intercom back off, afraid to know more. But he couldn’t. He had to face whatever was happening. Swallowing his fear and anxiety, he signaled sickbay. "Control room to sickbay, what’s happening down there?"

It took a few moments for the Thundercat to receive a response, but eventually Wiley Kit got on the intercom. "Bengali, I think you should come down here and see for yourself."

"Who is it Kit? Who’s flat-line is that?"

"You just need to come down here." And with that, the Thunderkitten cut the channel. Bengali growled in frustration, but before he could move from his seat, there was a communications signal from the Tower of Omens.

"What a day," the tiger sighed. "Bengali responding, what is it Tower?"

"We may have an idea as to what happened last night," Lynx-O told him without prelude. "It’s a little sketchy right now and I’d like to discuss it with everyone in person. Is now a good time to come over?"

"As good as any," Bengali answered. "But we have a bit of a crisis in sickbay. Someone—I think someone’s dying."

There was silence on the other end. Lynx-O’s brow wrinkled up and he seemed to be calling up information on the Braille board. "Bengali, if someone is dying, keep their blood and oxygen circulating. Put them on full life-support if you have to, but don’t let their bodies die! I’ll be over immediately."

Bengali frowned as the communication screen went blank. "Whatever you say, Lynx-O." He turned and signaled down to sickbay. Kit answered again. "Hey Kit, tell Pumyra that if someone dies, they are to be kept on full life-support. Lynx-O thinks he might have an answer."

There was a pause while Kit relayed the message. "Already done," she reported back, trying her best to maintain control of herself and her emotions.

"Good." Bengali hesitated but then decided it had to be asked. "So who is it?"

After a muffled sniffle, Kit responded. "It’s Snarf. His brain stem just shut down and all his vital functions with it." There was a slight tremble in Kit’s voice that sickened Bengali. Among other things, Wiley Kit prided herself on her ability to hide grief and pain. "Pumyra is still analyzing," the kitten continued, "but there’s no activity in his body whatsoever, aside from what the machines are now doing."

Bengali bowed his head. "What about the others?" he asked softly.

"Same as they were when we brought them down," Kit said. "But watching the sudden turn Snarf just took…"

"I know Kit," Bengali whispered. "Tell Pumyra that Lynx-O’s coming over. We’ll work this thing out. The Thundercats don’t give up."

"No," Kit agreed slowly. "But we might have to give in."

Across a dreary maze of ravines and canyons, three Thundercats wandered aimlessly. They didn’t say much, having worked together long enough that words were unnecessary. Occasionally they would confer over direction, but there was really nothing to talk about. None of them knew where they were going, where home was, where help lay, or where they were to begin with. And as Tygra commented, in an illusion they couldn’t defeat, it probably didn’t matter anyway. They could wander the illusion forever and never move a step in the real world.

"So what’s the point of moving at all?" Panthro had asked.

"To remind us that there is reality," Tygra had responded glibly.

There’d been no answer to that, and so they had continued to walk, following no clear direction. But as they wandered, they couldn’t shake the feeling that evil stalked them.

"That does it," Cheetara finally exclaimed. Her voice rang out in the silence, causing the other two Thundercats to cringe, but she took no note of it. She turned around and stared up at the slope they’d recently scrambled down. "Whoever you are, show yourself. Or do you fear to fight the Thundercats?"

There was no response. The trail behind them remained clear, though the feeling of pursuit didn’t leave any of them. If anything, it intensified, as if enjoying the effect it was having. "Come on," Panthro finally said. "Tygra’s right. We need to keep moving, if only to cement in our minds that we’re trying to do something."

That brought a laugh in the still air. The three Thundercats froze and reflexively formed a circle, protecting each other’s backs. "Whoever he is, I wish he’d get this over with," Panthro growled.

"I think that’s part of his strategy," Tygra hissed. "He’s enjoying our fear. The longer he can keep this up, the more advantage he gains. We just have to wait him out."

"My patience is wearing pretty thin today," Cheetara warned. "I’d rather run him down than wait him out."

"That won’t be necessary." The sudden voice startled the Thundercats and three sets of eyes fixed themselves on an area where they’d have sworn that a moment before there’d been nothing there. But something was there now. A lone figure stood with billowing black robes swirling around him. Beneath the hood of his cloak, golden eyes glistened. A long black sword was held in one gloved hand and with the other hand he beckoned mockingly. "If you think you are a match for me, Thundercats, I invite you to fight me."

Panthro had already assumed a fighting stance and was about to move in when Tygra’s hand suddenly pulled him back. "Wait a minute," the tiger hissed. "Something about him isn’t right."

"I agree," Cheetara whispered. Her eyes were fastened on the figure and her face was taut with concentration. "I sense—evil about him. But more than that. There’s something…"

"He’s real," Tygra finished for her. "His essence is real, but the form he’s chosen isn’t. I think we’ve found the creator of our illusion."

"Very perceptive, my striped friend," the figure sneered. "You are all a species of many talents. And yes, I can hear your whispers just as well as I hear your shouts. To me, they are one and the same. In my world, all you do is known to me."

"So you’re the one who’s keeping us here," Panthro surmised with a snarl.

"Keeping you here? I brought you here, if that’s what you mean, and there is no way out once you have entered. No way out for living mortals, that is." The hooded adversary paused to let that sink in. "But actually confining you here? Not really. I merely provide a place for your existence in this domain until you are mine."

"Yours?" Cheetara asked.

"Mine."

"Perhaps you’d better explain that last comment," Panthro growled.

A muffled laugh could be heard, not only from the figure but from all around them. The entire illusion seemed to be laughing at them. "Explain? I’ll do better than that," the figure cackled. "I’ll show you."

And almost without warning, the figure was rushing the Thundercats, his ebony sword slashing viciously. Taken by surprise, the Thundercats scrambled out of the way, ducking the long blade’s deadly swipes.

Panthro and Tygra rolled away unscathed, but Cheetara had been the focus of his attack and she was not so lucky. With a speed she hadn’t thought possible, the blade had lanced its way deep into her thigh, ripping apart muscle and tendons. In a cry of agony she could not muffle, Cheetara crumpled to the ground. She was crippled and completely immobile. The pain in her leg was excruciating. She heard the other Thundercats cry out and she heard them running toward her. But they would never get to her in time. The robes of the cloaked figure twisted around her and she heard the triumphant laugh of her destroyer. The tip of the blade brushed delicately across her back and there was a deep chuckle from within the blackness of the cloaks that now surrounded her. She could hear both Panthro and Tygra shouting madly, trying to get the figure away from her, but she could sense the despair in their voices. Their challenges rang shrill and desperate in the dreary silence of the landscape.

Almost to mock them, the figure turned their way and extended his blade. "What can you do to me?" the words were hissed. "You have no weapons. I hold one of your own by my side. What threat do you possibly pose to me?"

"Apparently, we’re enough of a threat that you’re frightened to take us on," Panthro roared back.

"Your turn will come, have no fear of that."

"We’d like our turn now," Tygra challenged. "Unless you can’t take on two unarmed opponents by yourself." During this time, both Thundercats had gotten significantly closer, but they were still not close enough to help Cheetara.

"If it is your turn you want, I shall oblige you." There was a hiss of relief from both Thundercats. The demon seemed to smile within the folds of his cloak. "But I never leave a job unfinished," he added with laugh. Before Tygra or Panthro could do anything, he had turned and swung his sword in a decapitating stroke.

And it hissed through thin air. Despite her wound, Cheetara had found the strength within herself to lurch out of the way. She now lay crumpled a few yards from the demon, clutching at her leg and moaning in pain. Panthro and Tygra lost no time in jumping between her and their enemy.

"Snarf didn’t truly appreciate your speed," the figured in black growled.

"Snarf?!" Panthro demanded. "What does Snarf have to do with anything?"

"He is contributing to your demise, though I should sift through his memories before confronting the other."

"The other?" Tygra kept glancing back at Cheetara who was badly hurt, but he could do nothing for her. Panthro would need help with this new enemy.

"Another much like you. But we are wasting time. I will finish your friend and then take both of you."

"Over my dead body," Panthro growled.

The figure bowed his head slightly. "If you insist."

"Panthro, look out!"

But Tygra’s warning came too late as the blade swept out again and caught Panthro across the midsection. Panthro gasped and started to fall back. Tygra was there to catch him, but the damage had been done. The demon withdrew slightly, enjoying the moment. Laying the wounded panther down, Tygra glared at the cloaked figure and rose. He wasn’t sure what he was doing or how he was going to fight something that had just taken out both of his friends, but he couldn’t stand by and do nothing.

"TYGRA!"

The voice came from behind, and swinging around, Tygra gasped in relief. Lion-O came charging toward him, wielding the Sword of Omens. "HO!" The Sword seemed to shudder in protest, but a stream of fire arced out and slammed the enemy back onto the rocky slope. Tygra sprinted toward his opponent, hoping to disarm him before he recovered, but he’d underestimated the creature he faced. Before Tygra had gotten more than a few yards from his friends, the figure rose with a snarl and stumbled to his feet. A sweeping glare stopped the tiger cold. With a sneer and a growl, the figure wrapped a dark robe around himself and vanished.

Lion-O came racing up at that point, heaving with exertion. He’d run the entire way at full speed, a distance of more than a few miles. He hunched over and trembled, trying to catch his breath in the stale air.

"Lion-O, you’re injured."

The lion glanced down at his bloodied uniform and shuddered, remembering the last few moments with Snarf. "No, it’s not mine," he whispered. "I—that thing—it killed—Snarf." Lion-O stopped, unable to say more.

"Snarf?" The tiger was stunned and his question came out as a whisper of disbelief.

Lion-O nodded silently, striving to hold back the tears that threatened to resurface. He felt Tygra’s consoling hand on his shoulder, but what comfort was that? It wouldn’t bring Snarf back. The lion clenched his fists as rage and grief threatened to boil to the surface. If he’d only been there sooner…

"I’m sorry, Lion-O."

The lion could hear the grief in Tygra’s voice, but the other Thundercat was still managing to stay strong. And that’s what Lion-O had to do. He had to stay strong. Finding the courage to do so, he turned to Tygra and straightened. "How are the others?"

Tygra muttered something incomprehensible and instantly turned away from Lion-O. His first target was Panthro. He felt he knew the extent of Cheetara’s injury and she could wait a little longer. As for Panthro, he wasn’t so sure.

Gently removing Panthro’s clutching hands from his gut, Tygra involuntarily gasped. Bloody and severed entrails could be seen in the gaping wound. Tygra’s eyes met Panthro’s and the panther saw all he needed to know. "Do your best," he grunted, striving to hold back the pain.

Hearing a sharp intake of air behind him, Tygra turned and saw Lion-O staring at Panthro in shock. "Can you help him?" Lion-O’s voice trembled and it frightened Tygra more than the mysterious figure had.

"I don’t know," the tiger whispered. He was already tearing the sleeves off his uniform to use as bandages. "I don’t have the equipment. I don’t have the training. I’ve never operated before and to repair this, he’s going to need a couple bowel resections…" Tygra trailed off as he turned his complete concentration to Panthro.

"It’s too late, isn’t it?" Panthro hissed. "Too much to handle."

"Don’t give up yet," Tygra insisted, but Panthro was right. There was nothing to be done except to make him as comfortable as possible and then wait for…NO! he cried out to himself. I will not accept that! But if he couldn’t accept the obvious, then what could he accept?

"Tygra?" Cheetara’s voice was weak and trembling, but she could sense something terrible was happening close by. She struggled to sit up and see what was wrong. "Tygra, what is it?"

"Easy," Lion-O soothed, moving to her side and forcing her back down. He was shocked by the deep gash on her leg that was still bleeding profusely, but he forced himself to ignore it for now. "Everything’s okay."

"Lion-O? What are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

"It will be soon," the lion told her. "We’re together now. Just like old times when we first landed on Third Earth. Just the four of us out together on an adventure."

"It’s Panthro, isn’t it."

It was not a question, but a statement of fact. Lion-O’s attempt at diverting the cheetah had been in vain. Cheetara knew as well as everyone else what was going on. She reached out for the panther’s bloodstained hand and grasped it. The returning grip was weak and she could feel it continue to weaken. "Panthro? Please stay with us."

"I’m trying," the panther grunted.

"Tygra? Can you look at this?" Lion-O had ripped off more of his already torn uniform and tried to staunch Cheetara’s leg wound, but there seemed to be no affect. The blood continued to flow and the powerful muscles now severed and quivering weren’t helping Lion-O’s efforts, either.

"One minute," the tiger muttered. He’d realized that he had two choices. He could prolong Panthro’s life by a few hours, or he could try to ease the pain and Panthro would die in a few minutes. Neither one was a favorable option, and Tygra was trying to find an alternative.

"I won’t be a burden." Panthro’s statement took Tygra by surprise. He looked up and was caught by the pain glistening in the panther’s eyes. "I won’t be a burden," Panthro repeated. "I can guess what you’re thinking. Do what you can to ease the pain and wait."

Cheetara and Lion-O glanced at Tygra in surprise and confusion, but the tiger took no notice of them. He continued to study Panthro and finally nodded. "I’m sorry, old friend. I wish I could do more."

Panthro managed a tense smile that was more grimace than grin. "Who are you calling old?"

It was then that Cheetara noticed the blood on the remnants of Lion-O’s uniform. "Tygra, Lion-O’s injured."

"No, Cheetara," the lion sighed. "I’m untouched. This is…" Lion-O looked up at Tygra in sudden shock. "I left him there," he whispered.

"You did what you had to," Tygra pointed out. "You came to our aid. You left the dead for the living."

"Who?" Cheetara asked. "Who did you leave?"

"Snarf." Lion-O’s voice broke and he started to shake. "I left him like carrion. I left him lying on the rocks where I found him. He died as I tried to help him and then I left him."

"Snarf’s dead?" Panthro’s voice was a whisper. It wouldn’t be much longer.

"Don’t talk," Tygra scolded him. There wasn’t much more he could do for the panther and he wasn’t even sure if what he’d done was correct. He could only hope that Panthro’s last minutes were as painless as possible. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he motioned Lion-O to Panthro’s side and started to examine Cheetara’s wound.

"Poor Snarf," Cheetara murmured. "How did it happen?"

"Whatever attacked you here attacked Snarf. He didn’t have a chance," Lion-O growled softly.

"Do me a favor," Panthro hissed.

"Anything," Lion-O promised fervently.

"Kill that demon for me."

"Lords of Thundera!" Tygra suddenly swore softly.

Panthro, Cheetara, and Lion-O glanced at him in surprise. "What’s wrong?" Cheetara asked.

"Wait a minute, I might be wrong," he answered in a tone that forbade further questions. He shifted his hands and began to apply pressure on the upper portion of Cheetara’s inner thigh. Please let me be wrong! he pleaded silently.

Cheetara grumbled something and glanced weakly over at Panthro. She still held his hand, but his returning grip was almost gone. "Panthro?"

The panther’s eyes had closed, but they jerked back open at the sound of her voice. "Cheetara?"

"Don’t leave us," she pleaded with him. "Please don’t leave us."

"I don’t know if I can help it," he whispered.

"It’s just an illusion. You can fight it."

"An illusion?" Lion-O looked up in surprise. "This is an illusion?"

"More like a waking dream, actually," Tygra muttered. "More like a vision of our own nightmares completely within our minds. Almost no external factors. Like a dream." He continued to work on Cheetara’s leg. He’d effectively blocked the others’ view with his body, and they couldn’t see what he was so furiously doing.

"Illusion, waking dream, it doesn’t matter," Panthro murmured. "To us, this is reality. And part of reality is parting." His eyes closed in weakness and his breathing started to slow.

"But not so soon," Cheetara pleaded. "Come on, just a little longer. We’ll find a way to fight back."

"Wait a minute," Lion-O interrupted. "You say this is like a dream?"

Tygra nodded, though he didn’t take his eyes off his work. "A lack of real external factors means this illusion is wholly within our minds. Nothing we see is actually real. When I look over at you, I’m not seeing you. I’m seeing a manifestation of you in this dreamscape."

"Remember when Mumm-Ra obtained dream master powers about a year ago? Could this be a repeat of that?"

"Already ruled that out," Tygra answered quietly. "This isn’t Mumm-Ra. Something else is behind this illusion. A year ago, Mumm-Ra controlled our dreams and eventually manipulated our mentalities out of our bodies. But through it all, it was still more or less a dream. We could be hurt and wake up just fine. This…" The tiger stopped and looked around. "This is not like that. This combines elements of illusion, dream, and something else I haven’t quite nailed down yet. With illusion elements, whoever is behind this directly controls our physical reactions. A dream only touches sight and sound for the most part. Illusions cover much more. A dream master usually can’t kill the actual body, but a good illusionist, because they have the ability to touch all aspects of our selves, can convince our minds to die. And death becomes reality."

"Reality…" Lion-O murmured. He’d never quite understood Cheetara’s psychic realm or Tygra’s world of illusions and reality, but he understood the implications of death. "Panthro? How are you doing? Panthro?"

There was a slight grunt, and then the panther’s body seemed to flatten out. Cheetara watched in horror and clutched the Panthro’s hand even tighter. "Please, Panthro. Just a little longer."

But Panthro was beyond words. His body slowly relaxed and his breathing slowed even more. Lion-O clutched the panther’s shoulder and felt the powerful muscles beneath his hand turn lax. "Panthro?"

There was one deep breath, and then a long exhale. A very long exhale. Tygra stopped whatever he was doing and turned toward the other two Thundercats. Three sets of eyes met. Keeping one hand on Cheetara’s thigh, Tygra reached over to Panthro’s neck and quietly checked his vital signs. He checked them once, hesitated, checked them again, and then slowly withdrew his hand. Lion-O and Cheetara watched him, waiting for the pronouncement they knew was coming but had to have verified before they could begin to believe it.

Tygra shook his head and turned away. Cheetara struggled to a sitting position and turned his face toward hers with a gentle hand. Her amber eyes probed into his, demanding an answer. With a sigh and downcast eyes, Tygra finally responded.

"Dead. Panthro’s dead."