Only about twenty-five students filled the center portions of the room.Up front were the older males of various Thunderian noble families.Behind them where the female humans -- including Mesilina, who kept sneaking sly, backward glances.The rest of the space was a mixture of various origins in no particular order.Only at the very end was Kara and Marcelus.The lion-cub tended to fall to the rear of classes that were not his favorite subjects, in often-vain attempts to go unnoticed.As for the man-child, he was always there with him at his side, his right arm of support.

The observed of all observers, he seemed interested in what his classmates were discussing, which was more attention than he would usually give them.He had something of an opinion on the matter and, considering the topic, he was a bit of an ‘authority.’But he kept silent, he said not a word, preferring to let them continue babbling secure in their illusions.

“Oh, Draconis, you can be encourageable,” said a human female to scarcely-bearded panther.“Everyone knows it exists -- at least it did back then.”

“I have to agree with her,” Typhonis added.Everyone turned to face the quiet tiger.“Back when Third Earth was, shall we say, less civilized.”The Warrior Maidens raised an eyebrow as slight giggles came from the other students.The albino tiger waited for it to subside before continuing.“Once it wasn’t need anymore it just, went back.”

“Back where?” Draconis persisted.

“Back where ever Jagga pulled it out of!”

A stern tiger interrupted the manic laughter that followed.“Enough talk of this nonsense!”He added the wave of his bare, red-black striped arm for emphasis.“The Sword of Omens is a myth.All the Lords of the Thundercats from as far back as written records go have firmly denied its existence.”

In that small, somber, clandestine room, the Lord of the Thundercats sighed as he stroked his fingers across the length of the shortened blade.It was the very Sword of Omens, the object of his vain worship, the mystical weapon so long kept hidden that only the ruling family knew of its existence.It rested on a stand before the Claw Shield, in its seemingly-permanent six-inch mode.Its eye closed shut, nothing more than a line of black, on either side encompassed by a semicircle of brown, like an eyelid.Quietly it slumbered in that chamber, never stirring, never responding, in a stasis that had lasted millennia, ever since the astrophysical configuration that had been the conduit of its power had, by the laws of natural philosophy, come undone in that unending dance of stars that was the universe -- and as he looked upon the spiritless sword, he was thankful that for his whole reign there had never been a problem so grave that --

“Long ago,” the red, purebred Siberian said, pointing up, “it was Thunderian engineering that put an end to the dark forces of MummRa when it was discovered by our scientists that the electromagnetic fields of our technology kept him and the ancient spirits of evil confined to their pyramid.”

A single hand, gray and withered -- cobwebs visible beneath broken scabs of rotted flesh -- fingers loosely bandaged, skimmed over the surface of the violent pool:

“And as time passed, human and Thunderian cooperation has ensured Metropolis’s continuing success.Why, we have expanded our society to the very edges of Third Earth.”

Sparkling, red powders were diffused in the collimating waters.

“No,” the tiger lecturer stopped to fill his lungs with air but a newfound blockage in his throat made him choke.He could feel the oblong mass clogging the back of his mouth as he clutched his neck.It was a mass that had formed so suddenly that he had no time -- or will -- to question where it had come from.Doubled over, he collapsed to the floor, heaving dry gasps, just as several students got up and reached him.

“Mwahahahahahaha!”

Kara thought he had heard something, something familiar.He turned to the side but Marcelus was not there.Upon his desk was his language book, open to random page, notes stuffed between sheets, pen rolling down the tabletop until it slid off and landed on the unoccupied seat.He reached over to pick it up, feeling the warmth of the chair with his fingertips, looking to the front of the class just then to see that the lecture he had been paying no attention to had come to an end.To his surprise it was with much ruckus -- he had been so lost in his fantasy world that he was oblivious to what was happening around him.

He saw the humans and noble cats scurrying around the naked, red tiger, who was on the floor, on his back unresponsive to their violent first-aid application.Odd, but for a moment he thought, he actually thought that his fellow seniors were devouring their fallen instructor.He put away his notebook, whose lined pages were filled with the name ‘Caesar’ and shrugged off the image just as a team of medics entered the classroom.