(From Ashes) Chapter 14

        Pride: From Ashes
        Chapter 14
        The Knight of the Flame

Lance hadn't known what time it was when he forged ahead into the tunnels. Impatience giving way to exhaustion had a way of skewing perceptions. He'd certainly had no way of knowing that by the time he actually gave in and passed out, it had been nearly midnight.

What he knew, for the moment, was that succumbing to sleep had been a mistake.

—It had been a beautiful Beau Terre day, one of the cloudless days his mother always sang about. It meant only one thing to Lance; it was the perfect kind of day to go flying with his father. And that—not being stuck inside, playing a dumb flying simulation game with his little brother—was precisely what he was going to do.

He was already a good distance from their house when he heard his sister Charlotte shouting his name, over and over, demanding that he stop. He tried to speed up, to get further away so he could later claim he didn't hear her. But his sister was fast and kept up. Finally he gave up, turning and groaning more when saw her boyfriend Cooper behind her, following her like a lost puppy. It was gross.

"What?" His tone was both exasperated, and attempting to play a little stupid.

"You're supposed to be watching Drew."

Oh was he? "You're supposed to be watching both of us, not playing kissy face."

Glare. "And I told you to watch Drew."

"That's not fair."

She shrugged. "Just go back home."

"No. Drew’s annoying me with that dumb flying game, I'd rather really fly, and only other thing he wants to do is chase those dumb toads by the pond. IT IS BORING."

Charlie was not impressed by his argument. "Well, he's too young to be home on his own. Go home."

Lance wasn't impressed by hers, either. "I wanna fly!"

"Dad isn't even going to let you. He'll just send you home, so you may as well—"

"—No, he won't!" He crossed his arms and pouted. "He said as long as I finish all my chores and all my homework I can fly." The promise of flight was the most reliable way to ensure Lance got anything done.

"Tomorrow, not today."

"Today. He'll let me. You can watch Drew."

"I'm older, I'm in charge, you are watching Drew."

Lance stomped his feet and pouted more. "No."

"You're such a little—"

The loud boom of a spacecraft hitting the atmosphere drowned out her yell, and they both jumped and turned toward the sound. It was followed by a series of smaller booms, a large spacecraft looming up in the air and fighters coming toward the surface at top speeds.

Lance stared at them, mouth agape, trying to identify the configurations. He knew every Alliance ship a civilian could learn about, and even a few Drule. But he didn’t recognize these and the hair on the back of his neck stood straight up.

Something is wrong.

Argument forgotten, he looked to his sister for reassurance. "Charlie?"

She was staring at the ships, her skin pale, then looked back at him with wide eyes. "I don't…"

Another boom in the distance, and Charlotte grabbed him close. That hadn't been a ship arriving. That had been an explosion, and Lance's heart rabbited in his chest as he saw smoke rising on the horizon. That was the airfield, wasn't it, that was the airfield…

"Dad…"

Charlotte tightened her arms around him as the shadows of fighter craft passed over them, and these he recognized: the colony's Fractal squadron streaking into battle. Then more explosions; he felt her shaking and then they were flying through the air, the ground flinging them aside as something impacted nearby. Lance hit the ground hard, scraping his elbows and hands, Charlotte covering him with her body until the shaking stopped.

"Okay," she breathed as she lifted her head, "I think—" But she didn't get any further than that before she turned and screamed. Lance followed her gaze and nearly choked—he'd forgotten Cooper was there, and now he was sprawled lifeless on the ground where they'd been moments before. But he didn't have long to look; his sister grabbed him by the shoulders and bent down to his eye level. He'd never seen her look so scared or so serious in his life…

The sound of destruction raged all around them.

"Lance, go to the shelter, the one we’re supposed to go to during the dust storms." She was talking very fast, visibly holding down the panic. "I want you to run there. I want to run and not look back. Go now."

"But what about you?" He looked from her to the distant column of smoke. "Daddy…"

"I’m going to get Drew, Lance. I have to go get Drew. Dad…" She swallowed, looking at the smoke. "Dad will have gone to the same shelter. Mom's at the terraforming station, she'll be alright. Just go, go there now."

"No, I’ll go with you to get Drew," he yelled, fear making his voice go high. "I should go with you." They couldn't separate, they couldn't, something inside of him was screaming it.

"No! Damn it, Lance, please just listen to me for once! You have to run there now. Please. Go."

"But Charlie—"

"—Do as I say, go to the shelter, do it and don’t fucking look back!"

Another explosion rocked the ground before he could argue any more, and they tumbled roughly to the side again and now there was a hole in the ground where Cooper's body had been, where they had been just minutes before. Charlotte let out another anguished scream, turned to him and shoved him hard in the direction of the storm shelter.

"GET TO THE SHELTER. GO NOW, LANCE. GO!"

Lance ran then, ran as fast as he could, amazed he could even hear the explosions over the pounding of his heart in his ears. Stumbling through the colony's suddenly-cratered outskirts he kept wondering if Charlotte had gotten home yet, if she had Drew—they'd left him alone. He'd left him alone. He wiped at his face, he couldn't see, he was crying too hard but the fear in Charlie's demand kept him running…

Finally he'd fallen onto the heavy doors of the shelter, fallen again as he struggled to get them open and stagger inside, and one more time as he looked around and saw no one else was there.

No one else was there.

He was just first, he'd thought, and dared to peek out of the entrance until one of the unknown fighter craft passed overhead. Then he slammed the doors shut and was plunged into darkness, but he could still hear explosion after explosion…

He shook harder with each one. Weren't they ever going to stop?

Staring at the door through the darkness, he counted the explosions and waited and hoped. Charlie, Dad, Drew… come on, get here, come on!

But the door only opened one more time. Two men he didn't know climbed inside, covered in dirt and blood. Both of them wounded, both of them looking as petrified as Lance felt…

And he just kept staring at the door, willing his family to appear, but the explosions finally tapered off and no one else came in. After what felt like forever the two men had dared to leave, and he'd followed them into a hellscape. Scorched and cratered ground, burning buildings, and little sign of human life…

Only twelve citizens of the Alliance colony of Beau Terre had survived. And Lance, at eleven years old, was the only surviving member of his family.—

*****

Serenity was in short supply on Arus anymore, and Coran had learned to take any fleeting moment he could to keep himself calm and focused. The morning found him standing on the castle's parade balcony, watching the sunrise with a mug of cooled vehka brew, letting it remind him of better times and—

"Lord Coran!"

—That wasn't part of the plan.

Sipping his drink, he turned to see the royal governess in the doorway. "Lady Hys. Good morning." It would take much more than this to disrupt his mindset.

"Good morning." She gave a low bow, timed perfectly for their comparative stations, of course. "I hope I'm not intruding."

"Of course not." His cup had been nearly empty, anyway. "How may I be of assistance?"

She took a couple of steps onto the balcony, wringing her hands in her skirt. "You… you have this situation with the alien… troublemakers under control, yes?"

Troublemakers had come out with a huff that he suspected was significant, not that it mattered either way. "As much as I can in our current circumstance," he said with a sigh. The circumstance he was referring to wasn't even the Drule invasion, though that didn't help either. "The Princess has a much clearer view of the situation than I."

Well, that hadn't been the unequivocal yes Nanny was hoping for. She sighed also, approaching the railing and wrinkling her nose. She had every faith in Princess Allura, but the young royal was given to the occasional flight of fancy. Growing up she'd even claimed to talk to mice. But to express such worries unbidden would be a horrid lapse in protocol…

Fortunately—perhaps—Coran could see just fine that he hadn't alleviated her concern in the slightest. And he supposed he ought to try. "Is there anything in particular, other than their simply being here, that bothers you?"

"The Princess said she foresaw them arriving, and expects them to save us." And that was much of what worried her, hooliganism aside. Had the fall of Arus broken her dear Princess after all? Or was something concrete at play? "I just want to know what's really going on."

The old knight studied her carefully for a moment, and decided there was no point in lying. Lady Hys was rather high-strung, but she was no fool. To express anything adjacent to doubt in the Crown meant she was distressed indeed. "I understand your frustration, but I'm afraid I cannot divulge that information as of yet. But from what I've seen, I don't think she's wrong."

A little too trusting, too quickly? Perhaps. But not wrong.

Nanny nodded, then realized what she was nodding at and gave another frustrated huff. "And at what cost? They're such… ruffians."

Oh, honestly. Coran took the last sip of his vehka brew, and chose his words carefully. "They are certainly a little rough around the edges, but they seem like honorable people. But if you have another plan to save Arus from the impending Drule attack, please share it with me?"

"Of course, I—I didn't mean…" She made a face. When he put it that way it was true enough, but still. "I only worry for what will come of us, being forced to rely on one band of aliens to save us from another." That came closer to a valid concern, and he was about to say so when she added, "That they're so very ill-mannered does not make me less worried."

"Lady…" He sighed, again. "We relied on ourselves when the first invasion arrived, and it did us little good. Perhaps relying on these strangers will improve our chances this time, or perhaps not. I don't know. What I do know is that doing the same thing as before, except from a far weaker position, will not work."

"Must we simply believe in them blindly, then? One of them is already being a very poor influence on Lady Larmina, who hardly needs more such influences." She could immediately see Coran was not impressed by that complaint, and her expression softened slightly. "I worry for our Princess and our planet. If they can deliver us from the Drules so be it, but can I not hope there might be something left of what was?"

"We are not just trusting them blindly. I am gathering as much information as—" Coran paused. He didn't answer to her, and continuing down this path wasn't going to be helpful. "Lady Hys. We have the situation as much under control as we possibly can. My concern is that we survive for people like you to worry about what once was. If we all die or become enslaved, the old ways will not matter."

That wasn't particularly reassuring, but it was not particularly refutable either. "…Yes. Yes, I suppose that's true." Then she brightened a little. Of course he was right. This was her responsibility. "So perhaps once the danger looming us over us all is lessened, they might even be able to learn some manners."

Oh dear. "I'm sure," that nothing of the sort will happen, "that with your tutelage anything is possible."

"Lieutenant Holgersson has already shown an interest in learning our language." Even the memory of that debacle couldn't ruin her sudden optimism. "Perhaps I could prepare a few small primer texts for them, on our language and culture? To help them settle in." Her mind was already racing on what to include. Basic court protocols, of course…

Though he had a feeling the cultural aspects of such a project wouldn't be the ones he'd have chosen, Coran wasn't about to shoot down her new eagerness. And the rest would be helpful. "I think that would be greatly appreciated, Lady Hys. They're likely to be here for some time; it's best they get acquainted with our language."

"I'll get right to work, then." She turned to depart the balcony, then looked back at him. "…I may have my doubts, but I will do my best to aid our world and our people, Lord Coran. Whatever must be done for Arus."

He raised his empty cup slightly in acknowledgment. "I've never doubted that, Lady Hys." With that, she hurried off, and he took one last long breath. At least the day's work had started out simple enough.

*****

Larmina approached the offworlder ship hesitantly. It was weird. She'd seen Arusian ships, and more Drule ones than she'd ever wanted to, but this one hardly resembled either… well, spacecraft weren't her specialty or her problem. At the moment, the castle was her problem. Specifically, showing a few of the offworlders around the castle; she'd put it off as long as she could.

Sven had promised to be there, so maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Apparently he liked maps.

Three of them were waiting for her at the bottom of the ship's boarding ramp. She smiled at Sven, nodded to Romelle, and gave Pidge a why are you here look before putting on her most businesslike expression. "This everyone?"

Pidge, who was there mostly because he felt guilty about having run off to the forest when he should've been helping scout the first time, made a face and wished for about the millionth time that his chameleon suit's stealth worked. Romelle gave him a small smile she hoped was reassuring. She was a bit on edge herself, though also excited for a proper tour of the legendary castle.

"Yes." Sven returned Larmina's smile, willing his eyes not to flash. Which they promptly did, naturally. He had something pencil-like that Daniel had found on the Falcon, and several sheets of something that wasn't exactly paper that he'd secured from Lady Hys to practice the Arusian alphabet. "Where are we headed first?"

Motioning for them to follow, Larmina started to lead them around the moat. "Half the castle is the rubble. Will start there."

Making a note on that, Sven hid another smile—Lady Hys' concerns about his bad influence aside, he thought he'd had a breakthrough with Larmina regarding the word 'the'. Apparently it had indeed taken… more or less.

Even in ruins, the castle and grounds still held a certain element of majesty to them. Not least was the path that went past the eastern towers, and the gaping hole that now loomed in the structure. Remnants of a tile path, looking something like smashed eggshells in the dirt, led to a huge pile of rubble that seemed to be where most of that hole in the castle had landed.

As they got closer, though, a half-hidden opening became visible. Not just a gap in the debris, but something that had once been a doorway…

"Was the Royal Chapel," Larmina explained, and led them inside.

Romelle shivered a little, flashing briefly back to the Royal Sacellum on Korrinoth. But the interior couldn't be less like the Sacellum had been. Her hand went to the gaive'llar at her side. "It is a shame that such a place was… reduced to this," she murmured.

It was dark and empty, clearly stripped of decoration, but the main structure seemed largely intact. A few sweeping arches had done more good than merely the aesthetic. 'Was' the Royal Chapel. "Is it something… else, now?" Pidge asked, his eyes darting around.

Larmina nodded. She'd been instructed to show them this first; their key role here was military, after all. "Golden Knights set up a base here. Good ambush spot. Defensive hub when the Drules come back." The doors that had led to the Hall of Worship were broken now, and a shattered altar lay beyond.

Making a note of the chapel as a base—and putting a star next to it for importance—Sven looked around and shook his head. The second room had large, empty alcoves and the remnants of fine marble pedestals. Long since looted, of course, but he could see it must once have been very grand. "What was in here before?"

"Was gold everywhere. Sinycka took care of that." Larmina looked around at where the statues had once been, then led them off to the left. "Radiant Warrior's shrine was here." She pushed down on a panel; where the base of a huge golden statue had once been secured, a trapdoor sprang open. It revealed a small stash of medical supplies, camouflage cloaks, dried rations, and a few of the charge packs they'd scavenged for captured Drule laser rifles.

Sven quickly wrote down what he saw—was his map also turning into a report to be handed in to Keith? Obviously—and looked at her again. "Radiant Warrior?" Cultural information couldn't hurt, and he did like mythology. Almost as much as maps.

"God of Protection," she explained, and made a face. Big fat lot of good that was.

Pidge looked around and found his thoughts on a similar track—though given that it hadn't collapsed beneath the rubble, he couldn't help wondering if this place should be considered 'protected' or 'not protected'.

Interesting. Did Arusians have such narrowly focused gods? There could only have been so many shrines in here… Sven cocked his head. "My ancestors' beliefs spoke of a similar god of protection, Thor. But he had many other responsibilities as well. Is the Radiant Warrior only concerned with protection?"

Larmina blinked. "Offworlders have gods?" No, no doubt that had not been a proper response. "…Protection, war, battle. All the everything like that."

"Why wouldn't offworlders have gods?" Pidge asked, eyeing her.

"I don't know what offworlders have!" she protested. "You stand in fire!" The ninja rolled his eyes.

Chuckling, Sven made another note. "Earthlings have many gods, and many religions to go along with them."

"Even the Drules have gods," Romelle agreed, then blushed as the others looked at her. "And on Pollux… we still worship the gods we brought with us from Arus." Though she knew they'd also left several behind, and she couldn't recall ever hearing of a Radiant Warrior. "They're said to have accompanied us into exile."

That got her a very odd look from Larmina, but she didn't have time to wonder about it. Sven was intrigued now; the tour could wait a few more minutes. "That is interesting. Are there stories of how that came to be?"

Oh. She blushed even hotter, but nodded. "The House of Lachesis was a prominent family here on Arus. Part of the nobility, if the stories are correct. They had always closely followed Koathel, the God of Space. When they… left… they asked the favor of him and his associate, the Goddess of Stars, Optari. They helped the ancestors find a new world to settle on, and remained to watch over us."

Sven nodded his understanding. It sounded reasonable and quite fascinating to him. But Larmina's eyes had gone wide with disbelief, and she slowly looked up as if expecting the roof to cave in. "…Let's go." She hurried for the entrance.

"…Komora?" Pidge followed, exchanging glances with a worried Romelle.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"I didn't think so." Sven shrugged as they passed back out into the sunlight.

Larmina had stopped just over the threshold, still not quite believing what she'd just heard. And I thought asking the Golden Gods to get me out of my debut was reckless! Taking in Romelle's obvious confusion, she decided she had to at least try to explain—if nothing else, to avoid a repeat. "When did the Polluxians leave?"

When did… Romelle hesitated. "A few centuries ago?"

"Okay, but." A few centuries ago. Things were starting to come together in the Arusian's mind, and she found herself wishing she'd paid more attention to history lessons. These offworlders kept making her want to learn things. "No Golden Gods on Pollux?"

Watching the exchange, Sven felt a prickling of ice in the back of his mind. Blue Lion was irritated with this conversation. What's wrong?

"…I don't know."

What? I thought you knew everything.

That got him a growl of fond exasperation. "I have told you I am not omniscient, Icehunter."

My mistake.

"We left when the lions were hidden," Romelle attempted to explain, though she wasn't sure if that was any more helpful… she bit her lip worriedly. "I've never heard of any Golden Gods, no. I'm sorry if I have offended you?"

When the lions were WHAT? Shaking her head, Larmina started for a side door of the castle, motioning for them to follow. "Maybe don't say the names of Usurpers in the Golden Gods' the actual chapel," she suggested with a grimace. "There was a very big war."

Usurpers? Sven made a note of the door, though his interest now lay elsewhere.

Even Pidge was curious; all the more so when he heard Green growling in the back of his mind. What?

"We were hidden…"

Yes, he'd known that. But the lion said nothing else.

"A war?" Romelle echoed. She knew the ancestors had fled Arus fearing the wrath of the Galra. The punishment that would be sure to fall on them for hiding the lions away. She'd never heard anything about an Arusian holy war in the meantime, and her hand went unconsciously to her gaive'llar again. What more happened here that we don't know about?

Nodding, Larmina led them into the castle and pointed off to the side. "Staff elevator. Doesn't go anywhere now. Used to be ballrooms, that side collapsed." She wasn't really trying to change the subject, but she was supposed to be giving a tour. "War of Golden Revival. Golden Gods took the control back from the Usurper gods." Was there any way to quickly sum up the war? In Common, no less? She cycled swiftly through everything she remembered about it… and froze.

The lions were wiped out to save the Arusian people…

Green was extremely agitated now, and Pidge's eyes widened, flashing green. The vision was coming back to him, the golden light… "Um, did these 'Usurper gods' leave shrines just kind of lying around?"

That did not sound like an idle question, but she'd never heard of one. "Don't think the Golden priests would have left them standing?"

The wolves interfered. How, though? Why? It felt like every time they found a new piece to the puzzle, the puzzle just got bigger.

Sven's thoughts had gone to the temple where Blue's key had been. Would it still be there, if it weren't underwater? Then the other side of that question asserted itself. How did it end up underwater? He felt Blue's icy fury, and made a few more notes.

"Are you truly taking notes on my reactions?"

"Yes," he answered as his eyes glowed, then winced. Shit, that was out loud.

Romelle jumped, but quickly determined from his expression that the yes had not been meant for anyone in this group. She focused back on Larmina, whispering in Arusian. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you or dishonor your gods."

She looked a little startled, and whispered back, "I'm not upset, exactly." They didn't save us, did they? "We just don't say stuff like that out loud."

Nodding, Romelle blushed—again—as she noticed Pidge eyeing her. She switched back to Common. "Apologies." She was doing so much apologizing today. "It is rather rude of me to speak when others can't understand."

"I didn't mind," Sven said absently. He was still wondering about the temple. The war. What side were the lions on? Blue growled in a way that said she wouldn't—or couldn't—answer that, so he made more notes.

Pidge, who'd been taking note of the Polluxian nervously touching her knife and not at all worried about her language, shrugged and muttered derisively in Baltan. "Manners."

That was enough of that. Larmina led them down a hallway to a set of stairs. "Down is the crypts. Don't go there. Parts of the ballrooms that aren't collapsed up here. Careful on the stairs." The fine crystalline tiling had been largely pried up, sometimes without worrying about the integrity of the stone beneath. "Castle was looted by the Drules. Extra looted when we took it back. All went to the tunnels." Then, for some reason—whether genuine curiosity, her instructions to learn about the offworlders, or just to cover the awkward quiet—she found herself blurting out, "What are offworlder gods like?"

Sven laughed. "Earthling gods are wildly varied, and at the same time very similar."

"Balto has three pantheons." Pidge shrugged. "Only one that gets much attention though."

Silently fingering the sigil of Kistrial on her gaive'llar, Romelle decided to just let the other two field this one. The other gods she knew of would surely be even less welcome in this discussion than Pollux's had been.

Taking them through a back corridor, Larmina snorted. "Security rooms are here. Ones with holes aren't secure anymore. And that was a lot of words that said nothing."

That had been pretty vague, Sven supposed as he noted the security rooms. "Well, there are hundreds—possibly thousands—of gods originating on Earth, and most Earthlings believe in only a few, or one. Many believe in none."

"Earthlings are inefficient," Pidge muttered under his breath.

"Sounds confusing."

"That must be confusing?" Larmina and Romelle had both expressed that at the same time; they exchanged slightly sheepish looks before Romelle continued. "If they believe in none, what do they believe?"

"In science, or knowledge, most of the time. Or there are some religions with no 'god' in the usual sense." The navigator shrugged. "We are a varied people."

No kidding. Larmina decided to narrow this down to something simpler. "What else your protection god does?"

Sven smiled broadly. Now they were talking. "Thor was the protector of humanity and the god of thunder. He was known for his bravery, strength, healing powers, and righteousness… and his weapon, a large hammer named Mjolnir."

Huh. "That is lots," Larmina agreed, and turned to Pidge. "You have a protection god?"

"Not exactly?" He frowned. "The closest is probably Dalzeran, the Panther Queen. She's the goddess of darkness and deception."

One of the Arusian's eyebrows shot up. "Sounds… pleasant."

"Actually yes?" His people were ninjas. "She's the leader of the Kezra—the pantheon we do pay attention to."

"Deities that sound frightening often aren't, at least when properly understood," Sven commented. "Hel, the Norse goddess and ruler of the underworld, for example. She housed and nurtured the dead. Not someone the living wanted to see, but respected nonetheless."

"Nurtured the dead?" Larmina echoed. "Aren't they dead?" Pidge eyed her; he'd been thinking something similar, but wasn't about to admit it now.

Green seemed amused.

"Yes, but their spirits are still around, so they enter her underworld where she takes care of them." Did the Arusians not have such a god? Sven couldn't help thinking they could probably use one, given what Vince had been going through.

"That does seem to be a comforting thought?" Romelle had learned very little about the Drule death goddess, Sarga, but she was pretty certain her position was similar.

"Silent Exile is our death god," Larmina said with a small shudder. "Don't want him to keep you. Just show you to the Golden Paradise." She couldn't recall any tales of the Golden Paradise that involved the dead needing to be nurtured. Now that an alien had mentioned it, that seemed weird. But did she want to worry about metaphysical logistics right now? No. No she did not.

Sven made a note. "I'll keep that in mind." His notes were more mythology than map so far; he was okay with it.

"Balto has a lot of death gods," Pidge said absently, his thoughts going back to the shrine in the forest again. And further back, to the arena. "Kind of."

"You're talking without saying things again," Larmina muttered.

The ninja sputtered and glared at the Arusian, which didn't make her wrong. If I didn't hate her, I'd probably like her.

"Why do you hate her?" Green still sounded amused.

…Habit.

The lion outright laughed.

She's Pidge, Sven thought, looking between them, and heard Blue chuckling in his mind. What? All that got him was more chuckling, of course.

Sighing and shaking his head, Pidge decided if she wanted him to talk he'd talk. "Fine. One of the pantheons we try not to bring up is the Tairra. They rule the hells. You don't want any of them getting their hands on you, because that's where the gods running the universal experiment use you as a test subject." Larmina's expression made it clear that she did, indeed, regret pushing the issue; he shrugged. "On the other hand there's the Phoenix King, Zalet. He's another Kezra—the god of light and courage—and his phoenixes carry the worthy to the peaceful darkness."

Both of Sven's eyebrows had gotten progressively higher during that explanation. And far be it from him to judge another culture's religion, but… "One of those sounds greatly preferable to the other."

"Some do sound more pleasant than others," Romelle agreed.

Larmina nodded too. "Think I like Sven's best." She wasn't even saying it out of bias, probably…

Tour. She was supposed to be giving a tour.

Beckoning for them to follow, she started walking again. But she couldn't seem to get her mind off of death gods and extinct lions.

*****

Lance woke up shaking with anger, roughly swiping tears from his face with the back of his palm. He was boiling with it, the loss of his family a fresh wound. He'd dreamt about that day more than he ever admitted, of course—but it had never been so vivid, so real. It felt like he was eleven and had just gone from bratty kid to angry orphan all over again, and he felt sick as always when he thought about Drew and Charlie…

If he'd just stayed home.

It all rushed back. The things he hadn't known then. About the attackers—the nearly unbeatable alien pirates the Alliance called a nuisance. The Galra. They'd come to loot Beau Terre's food and supplies; the planet's token garrison, meant to resist the usual ragtag Rim pirates, had never had a chance.

His family hadn't had a chance…

Wiping at his eyes again, it slowly came back to him where he was. Part of that was the realization that three salalizards were clinging to the shuttle tracks, staring at him. Spork the mouse was between two of them, staring too… he blinked, then frowned at them all and stood up. "What?" He retrieved his jacket and pulled it on quickly as if it could shield him from the memories. "Haven't you ever seen a guy have a nightmare in an ancient tunnel to a volcano before?"

The volcano.

He turned and looked at the magma again, rushing behind what looked like glass, maybe. Cautiously, he touched it with his palm, half expecting to be burned… but he wasn't. He did feel the warmth, a softer heat than the anger burning inside of him, igniting again…

He swallowed thickly and whispered. "Was that you?"

"I'm afraid so, cub."

Another angry swipe at the tears. "Why?"

"All will become clear."

"No. Now. Because that was…" He trailed off. It defied words.

"Painful, I know."

"Not the half of it."

"You are not unjustified, cub." The lion's growl radiated through him. "But I think it's best we do this face to face."

Face to face… Lance nodded, knowing he didn't need to say anything more. Maybe this was always how it was going to be.

He glanced at the salalizards. "Here to escort me?" Maybe they nodded, maybe he imagined it. He'd take it, either way… he turned his attention to the mouse. This was as far as it went, he supposed. "Thanks for the company."

Spork definitely nodded, and scurried off back toward the castle.

Lance closed his eyes for a moment, to brace himself. His heartbeat was racing again. Some of his anger had subsided, cooled… the rest had settled into a smoldering fire in his belly. One that was at odds with the heat he felt from…

The lion?

Their connection. He could feel it, and it was comforting as always and he hated that right now. The dream had hurt too much. But it was time now, and he forced his conflicted thoughts down as best he could. Finally he was actually going to see this lion, to meet this lion…

Face to face.

He took one more deep breath, nodded to the salalizards, and once again started walking towards the volcano.

*****

Hunk was worried. And had he been told, not too long ago, that he would be worried by the fact that he'd left Lance in a volcano and not had supernatural visions of fire shortly afterwards, he'd have found it utterly insane even for his life.

Now it was just par for the course, because 'normal' was a lie and things making sense didn't matter, and he was strangely okay with that element of it. But the not feeling fire part itself was bothering him. What the hell was taking so long? Had he backed out? If he had, why hadn't he come back?

Yellow was being infuriatingly unhelpful, of course. The only straight answer he'd gotten was that under no circumstances was he to go down into the tunnels and make sure Lance hadn't been washed away by magma or something. Which he didn't like, but he had to trust his teammate… and his lion, he supposed.

Trusting his lion was how he found himself wandering in the desert again. At least he could be certain of not getting lost out here now.

"This is very deserty."

He grinned and glanced over at Vince, who he'd recruited to help him find what he was looking for: a good site for a scrapyard. Keeping the stuff all in one place would be easier than the scavenging they'd been doing. "Yeah, that's what I thought, too."

"I still cannot figure out if that's a compliment."

Just a statement of fact, dude.

"It's pretty cool." Vince looked around the sparkling sand and blinked. "Well, not temperature-wise but—you know what I mean."

Hunk laughed. "It probably is kinda cool for a desert? This is a kinda weird spot to have one. But if we find a good spot to start stockpilin' some scrap, I ain't complainin'."

"I mean, there is a lot of space," Vince agreed. He could barely see where they'd come from. "So what are we looking for, exactly?"

"Mostly a good open spot with no explosive plant life, and enough rocks and stuff to block most of the wind." He motioned to a craggy area in the distance. "Deserts are actually great for metal storage if you know what you're doin'."

The other engineer side-eyed him. "Stockpiled a lot of scrap in deserts before?"

"Not me personally. Just know the theory, yeah?"

"I'll go with it…" Going with a lot, lately. Though really, what else was new?

"Seems best around here," Hunk agreed, veering around a large patch of cacti. Vince side-eyed those, too.

"Are those the kaboomy ones?"

"I just assume any cactus out here might blow up if poked wrong, honestly." Shrug. "I'm sure I'll be able to tell the difference sooner or later."

Oh. "Well, I definitely won't poke them, then." Vince paused as a breeze rustled past them, and breathed deeply. There was an earthy, slightly sweet scent—maybe the cacti?—and it was warm but not uncomfortably hot. "It's kind of nice out here, actually." I like deserts, who knew? They'd always seemed like one of the last places he would want to visit.

"Yeah, it's not bad," Hunk agreed as they crested a dune. From here he could see the distant crags rising up to form an actual ridge, and he pointed. "Let's try over there, that cliff wall looks promising."

As he said it, he felt something odd in the back of his mind. As if Yellow Lion were about to say something, then stopped… which he'd have expected to like more than he really did. Yellow?

"Watch your step," the lion growled, which told him not a thing.

Vince had no idea about the telepathic conversation going on next to him, and he was more interested in looking around than down. "Cliff wall it is." He moved ahead a little bit, closing in on the crags.

A few minutes later, at a dip in the sand, he tripped over something and went down with a yelp. The yelp turned into an outright scream as he tried to catch his breath and found a skull staring at him. Leaping up, he whirled around and screamed again—because he was staring at a tall, pale blue woman with pointed ears.

"DRULE!" he screamed, grabbing for his sidearm, then remembering he hadn't brought a sidearm because it was the desert and—the woman flickered slightly, and he realized he could see the dune behind her. "No no no. GHOST DRULE!"

Hunk, who had brought a sidearm, had it halfway from its holster as he sprinted forward. "Dude!" Drule? He didn't see any—he froze as his eyes glowed yellow for a moment. And he saw them. Two of them. "Uh…" As his vision returned to normal, they vanished.

"Nope nope nope," Vince backed off and hid behind him. "Nope!" It's better than it being alive and trying to kill you… wait that's a low standard!

"Uhh…" Hunk fumbled for something a little more eloquent and stepped to one side. His eyes flickered again, and the Drules appeared. "Those are ghosts?" They looked a bit bewildered, and Hunk had never before related to a Drule so much.

"Those?" Vince repeated in a small squeak, peeking around the big engineer's arm. Sure enough, he saw two now, a man next to the woman looking equally confused. "Why does there have to be two?"

As the glow in his eyes faded again, the Drules did as well, which didn't exactly make Hunk feel better. "Why does there have to be one?!"

"I mean yes, why are there any gh—" Wait. Vince looked up at him with wide eyes. "You see them?!"

"Yep?" Looking down he saw a few scorched bones, and what looked like pieces of Drule infantry armor. "You know what, nope." He retreated. Fast.

That left Vince staring at the ghosts again, and he wheeled around to follow. "Wait, wait! Let me nope with you!" There was something incredibly refreshing about someone else freaking out about this stuff with him. "I've never liked you more, how is it you're in on this nightmare with me?"

"Why the fuzzmuffins," Hunk was muttering at the same time, "yeah that!"

"Effing fuzzmuffins."

"Full-on fuckin' fuzzmuffins. With a side of nope."

"Desert full of nope."

"Yep."

"Do you want an answer to your question, or are you enjoying your theatrics?"

Hunk nearly dropped his gun. "WHAT."

"It is a good sign, Earthwarder." Yellow sounded pleased. "Our Bond is proceeding well."

What. What the what. Counting down from ten to get his breath back, Hunk looked down at Vince and grimaced as his eyes glowed. The Drules were still there at the corner of his vision. "Excuse me one sec, little dude. I need to yell at my lion and just doin' it in my head ain't gonna cut it."

"Huh?" Vince didn't exactly expect or want an answer to that. Right, people have lions in their heads.

Circling around so he wouldn't be yelling in the kid's ear, Hunk faced the direction he was pretty sure the den was in and bellowed at the top of his lungs. "LISTEN UP, YOU METAL FURBALL, THIS IS NOT A 'GOOD SIGN'!"

The immediate response was only a sense of amusement.

"Good sign?" Vince echoed, and once again liked Hunk more than ever. Ghosts and good, not a thing.

Before Hunk started yelling again, his lion decided to elaborate. "The earth reclaims the dead. You did not mind seeing fragments of my vision when you spoke to the rocks beneath the castle."

Hunk blinked. Blinked again. Blinked one more time. And looked back at where the ghosts were, trying to will his eyes to glow, for once. Was that a thing he could do?

Apparently it was. Because his vision went yellow for a moment, and there they were.

"…Okay, I was not informed." He looked over at Vince, who was watching him with a great deal of consternation, and gave an exasperated sigh. "Y'know how the Earth is patient? I've mentioned that, yeah?"

"Yeah, you have. Sounds creepy."

"It was creepy enough without him buryin' the part about how the earth sees dead people."

"Aren't you glad I did not worry you with it before, then?"

Dude, we are gonna have another discussion! What the hell were these magical lion ships? Other than ships, which he'd thought was going to be the biggest problem here, but apparently not.

Yellow gave a somewhat concerned purr.

Also concerned was Vince, who was staring at him in disbelief. "The lion is making you see dead people?"

"That's what he said." Wait. "Actually no that's not quite what he said, he said I'm seein' things he sees."

That was not really an improvement. "Does he know why I have to see dead people?"

Did he? Hunk shrugged; it seemed worth a try. Yellow? Any thoughts?

"The cub holds mysteries I cannot yet speak of."

…What the hell was that supposed to mean? Was it helpful? Would it just freak Vince out more? Hunk didn't find it reassuring, at least. "Uh, he said cryptic lion stuff." That much was perfectly clear.

Of course. Answers were never simple. "Well, thanks for asking."

"I can help you solve the immediate concern, Earthwarder."

…PLEASE.

"Return the remains fully to the earth, and the spirits will no longer be forced to wander."

"Uhh…" That was something. He looked at the bones. "I think he also just said if we bury what's left of the Drules they'll go away?"

"Close enough."

"Nope!" Vince yelped immediately, then covered his hand with his mouth as he flushed with embarrassment. "Uh, sorry. That was a reflex." Looking towards the ghost Drules, he sighed. "I… wouldn't want to be just wandering forever," he admitted slowly. Even on a planet they'd invaded. Probably hadn't been their idea, anyway.

"Yeah." Hunk gave a small frown. "That would suck, for sure." They looked at each other for what felt like another very long moment, and both knew what they had to do, though neither was actually going to say it.

"We don't have shovels."

"That's an issue." Yella Fella, anything your earthy magic stuff can do to help with that?

"Not at this time."

…That wasn't a no and I'm just gonna forget I asked it. "Guess we better go find somethin', yeah?"

"Yeah," Vince agreed. It would give him time to brace for getting close to the ghosts again, too. Drule ghosts. "I don't think that cliff was the right place for your scrapyard, anyway."

"Yeah. I'm thinkin' we might want somewhere else. Like… on the other side of the desert."

"Far on the other side."

"Way far. Let's go get some shovels and do the thing and never go near that spot again."

As they started back to look for shovels, or at least something shovel-adjacent, something else occurred to Hunk; he shot a brief glare in the direction of Yellow's den again. It felt like the lion had wanted them to do this… so what, you could tell us to watch our step but you couldn't just warn us outright?

"I did not know you would see them so soon. Nor that the cub would yet see the spirits of the invaders."

He guessed that was fair… wait. Yet?!

"In time. The Earth is—"

DON'T YOU DARE SAY IT.

The lion gave a growl that actually sounded slightly apologetic. And, to Hunk's shock, he didn't say it.

*****

Keith was rummaging through some of the closets on the Falcon, again. He'd done this already, repeatedly, but he kept hoping there might be something else he could use. He had found a bag earlier that seemed reasonably sturdy, but not much else…

Damn, he could have used the things they'd lost with the Bolt. But he couldn't dwell on it.

He knew time was short. His lion had said as much yesterday. And when Pidge had arrived with glowing green eyes, it had only solidified it more. Lance had gone to the tunnels. Only one person on the team still had to figure out the way to their lion, and it was pressing in on him.

It wasn't entirely his fault. Princess Allura had told him to give her a few days to get some things together. But maybe he shouldn't have waited, the way he wasn't meant to take the tunnels… no, that train of thought wasn't going to help him either. He had waited. Now he had to move.

Moving to the galley, he went through the cupboards and sighed. There wasn’t much left on board, and most of that wasn't fit to be carried with him. There was a small pouch of some dried grain, probably tasteless and nutritious. Would it be enough? How long was this other path supposed to be?

Maybe food was something the Princess would be able to help him with. The Arusians had said the spring was bringing their stocks back up. And water—the Falcon's main tanks were long since empty—they had a filtration tank that was getting them by, but it was hardly portable.

Can I really take more advantage of their generosity? They still have so little.

…Am I supposed to fly a magical space cat to save them or not?

He thought the Lion of Storms chuckled in his mind.

Keith wasn't the only one working on the problem. Allura, too, had secured a bag, and was in what was left of the receiving room testing the weight of the various supplies she'd gathered. She knew the far path to the Black Lion's den, somewhat; she had walked it on rare occasions with her father. It was a hike. She couldn't have told the Earthling every twist and turn of it even if she'd been allowed to, but she had no doubt he would find his way. The less encumbered he was, though, the easier it would be…

Someone knocked on the doorframe. "Excuse me, Princess?"

Looking up, she smiled. Exactly who she'd been waiting for. "Oh, Keith. Hello."

"Hello." He gave an awkward nod, but this wasn't a time for hesitation. You know that the time is short. "I was wondering about the other path you'd mentioned to me—you said to give you a few days to gather things?"

Nod. "I'm working on the last of it right now, making sure it will be sufficient." She indicated the bag, noting that he'd brought one of his own. It looked a bit more unwieldy. "There are going to be parts where you will need a good grip," she cautioned. "I was able to scrounge a bit of chalk, and some rations."

"Chalk?" he echoed, a little surprised. Well, you are climbing a mountain. "I hadn't even thought about that, thank you." She smiled and he continued hesitantly. "I was mainly concerned with water. Hiking up a mountain, I will probably need quite a bit."

"Ah." And there lay the problem she'd been debating when he arrived… picking a water bottle out of the supplies she'd gathered, she held it out to him. "Will this do? I did find a larger one also." Containers were not in short supply in the shelters. Things to put in the containers, hit or miss, but they did have a large lake nearby. "It's just that it would weigh you down significantly more."

He looked it over, then looked up at her. For a princess of a planet that seemed to have been so… ceremonial, she seemed to know a lot about mountain climbing. He wondered if it was something she'd done before the Drules, or the crash course in survival she'd been forced to take since…

Yes, he was fully intending to fly a mysterious lion robot for them, if that was what it took.

"Either a larger one or at least one more this size, I think," he finally said with a small shrug. "I don’t know exactly how long this path is, but I'm assuming it's significant? Better to be weighed down than dehydrated."

"It is long," she confirmed. "Here." She showed him the larger bottle she'd found, placing it and a few small pouches in the bag; the chalk, and some ration bundles. "The smaller packets are dried roli strips. Nothing like grilled, but it will keep you going."

As if he could complain about that! "Thank you. I know you all don’t have much, but this will help…" He almost said help me help you, but it felt patronizing. Whatever mystery was stopping them from waking their own lions, whatever twist of fate put their world's safety in the hands of outsiders, the Arusians were damn well not to be talked down to. That he knew for certain. So he accepted the bag and put it in his own—extra versatility wouldn't hurt. "Where do I go from here?"

"I'll show you to the beginning of the trail." That, at least, Black Lion seemed to feel was acceptable. "I need to go and fetch a couple of guards first, though. Coran will insist, going out so far…" Not that she'd argued it much, for once. Letting a few more of her people meet one of the Earthlings seemed like a wise course, now that they were getting so close. Then she eyed him, thinking about what else she'd heard from Coran. "You may want to go armed, as well. The mountains can be dangerous."

Keith blinked. He had been wondering if he dared… he'd be more comfortable with a sword at his side, no doubt, but he wasn't sure if that was the correct way to present himself to the Lion of Storms. Then again…

"You claim to be willing to fight," the lion growled softly. "Do not forsake your claws."

Nodding, Keith slung the bag over his shoulder and saluted to the princess. "I'll go get my sword, then."

Allura nodded as well, watching him go… and only then allowed herself a giddy little grin. Soon. It was more than a fulfillment of a vision, but a lifelong dream come true…

She would see the Black Lion fly.

*****

With his usual penchant for making bad decisions, Daniel had slept next to the tree he'd lost a fight with. Beat going back to the Falcon and answering questions. He still had blood all over his hands, and he'd tried to rig his shirt into a truly terrible excuse for a sling, and now he was looking for Captain Sarial. He didn't want to be looking for her, but he needed to, because ow. And also more ow. And he'd definitely rather face her than Lance.

He was still pissed off and sad, along with in pain, and wondered which of those the coming lectures would make worse.

Sarial was out on her superfluous morning patrol again, and caught sight of Daniel at about the same time he saw her. He looked upset, he was bloody, and his arm was in a poor attempt at a sling that hadn't been there when she saw him yesterday… oh dear.

"Captain, how's your morning going?" He didn't even try to fake being chipper about the question.

"Less interesting than it's about to be." Of that she was completely certain. "I trust you'd be showing a bit more urgency if a leftover sinycka had done this to you."

"Yeah…" He probably wouldn't be going to her if he'd found a Drule, anyway. He'd have gone to his team… no, that thought was going to piss him off again. "Sorry the cast got messed up. Was hoping we could get me fixed up again?"

No question he needed it; she sighed. She was quite certain she'd stressed their limited resources… what had it been? Three days ago? "I'm sure we can do something for you. What happened?"

He paused. How had he failed to come up with a good lie? Again? "I had an altercation."

"Was it while you were on patrol?" she asked, in her best not lecturing you tone. "Because you do owe me a report if you encountered anything harmful."

"There was nothing harmful on patrol," he assured her, rolling his eyes at the thought that followed it. Except maybe me. "I… lost my temper."

"That's a start." Maybe she was lecturing him a little.

Glare. "To what?"

"A full report." She arched an eyebrow, just slightly. If nothing else, she would be treating him like part of her militia. Because he was.

Daniel stared at her blankly. Holy fuck, she's like Keith and Lance in one person. Well, fine, whatever. She wanted a report? She could have a report.

"Well, it was pretty boring, actually." He kept his tone just this side of openly insolent. "Walked the area around the castle, nothing real interesting, just a bunch of rubble and scorched shit. Decided I'd be proactive and go out further, which was a mistake because I ran into Pidge. You know, one of my team members. Short, brown hair, green eyes, tends to stab people. We started talking about shit I'm not allowed to tell you because you're not in the need to know. It pissed me off. So I left Pidge, continued on my patrol—picked up the pace a little, though. Eventually I came across a tree, and at some point I decided it would be a perfect punching bag. It wasn't."

…Well. She had asked him for a full report. Going over it a couple of times in her head, she decided the part she hadn't followed wasn't important right now; when she was in the need to know, she was fairly certain it wouldn't be Daniel telling her about it. What was immediately relevant was that, if she understood correctly, he'd tried to beat up a tree. "Fair enough. Come with me."

The fight-or-flight adrenaline that Daniel had been preparing crashed. Why did none of his current preferred authority figures get mad? He wanted them to get mad, and he had chosen them. They should get mad! "Yes ma'am."

As she led him to the tunnels, the captain may have still been lecturing a little. Just a little. "I certainly don't want to leave you dripping blood out of your palms, but I also asked you to respect our limited medical resources. You agreed." She glanced back at him. "I'll be able to convince Dr. Gorma to patch you up this time. I can't promise the same for the next."

He had agreed. And he'd meant it, at the time. "I understand." He was pretty sure she'd just given him a disappointed face, but it wasn't nearly as bad as Lance's.

Sarial studied him for a few moments, judging his sincerity, and decided to accept it. "Then we're settled, I believe. Where's Toast?"

Daniel's conscience—stupid voice in his head, always making him feel guilty for shit—was telling him to say thank you. Luckily her question spared him. "I left him on the ship when I went out on patrol." That was what he got for being a good salalizard parent and letting them sleep, he supposed.

Nodding, the captain turned her full attention to tracking down Gorma. Which wasn't that difficult, really; he rarely left the medical area.

He'd been working on inventorying supplies—the scouts had brought back a new batch of plants for numbing ointments—and was a bit startled to be disturbed. "Captain Sarial, what are y…" Then he saw the Earthling behind her, and one very judgmental eyebrow went up.

Sarial would not be having any judgmental eyebrows put towards her people, and answered in her full command tone. "Daniel was injured while on patrol for the militia. I understand a full new cast is out of the question, but I need you to do what you can."

Gorma blinked, then nodded and approached to give Daniel a look. "I should be able to secure his hand with a thickly wrapped splint, mostly from what's left of the cast. He's also going to need stitches in both hands." The stitches would be easy, at least; Arusian science had yet to find any synthetic that promoted healing as well as simple zyva root fibers, and they could be cultivated in the caves. He went to get his supplies and some of the numbing ointment, leaving Sarial to give Daniel a wry smile.

"He's going to splint the wound you heroically acquired while on patrol."

He answered the smile with a deadpan look, which lasted for about three seconds. Then he saw what Gorma was bringing over. "If it's just a splint why is he bringing out needles?"

"For your hands." Did the Alliance do stitches? She knew their language, not their medical techniques. "Will sewing the wounds closed bother you? We have wound adhesive, but it'll heal much better with the stitches."

Ugh. "No, no. It's fine. If I can take the cut, I can take the stitches." He lowered his voice to a grumble born of bad decisions and regret. "Even though they suck." He fell silent as the doctor got to work.

Sarial just looked amused. "I'd be worried if you enjoyed them." Which was fair, he supposed.

The ensuing silence sucked even more than stitches, because it let his conscience start up again. You've been an ass. A complete and total ass. It's not her fault you lost a fight with a tree. "Thanks."

Nod. "You're welcome."

It didn't shut his conscience up. That's not what you say when you've been an asshole. Did he have the emotional willpower to apologize? Did he have the emotional willpower to not apologize? "So, uh. I don't really, I mean, uh. I was an ass…" He paused as something rang familiar about the words. "…Oh my god, I just made a Cam apology."

The realization sent a wave of grief and disgust through him—grief at realizing he hadn't thought about Cam in what felt like forever. Disgust because, well, his apologies had been terrible and gross.

"I don't know that expression." Sarial frowned. "And from the look on your face, I don't think I want to."

"Yeah, probably not." He didn't want to explain.

"In any case, I don't need an apology. Just be careful this time." She met his eyes for a brief moment. "But if something else does happen, be honest with me and I'll do the best I can for you. Understood? I know nothing around here goes as planned anymore." That had been true even before the offworlders showed up. It was twice as true now.

Daniel half heard her; the other half of his mind was on Cam. What would he say about this? He'd be ranting about how questioning the Commander was sacrilege, no doubt. And saying he needed to trust them. Ugh. When had trust ever worked out for him? Hell, that was why he was in this position.

And that brought him back to what Sarial had just said… he looked up and frowned slightly. "Can I trust you?"

In response she gestured to Gorma, who had moved on to the splint. She had just kind-of-lied to the doctor to cover for him punching a tree. "Can you?"

"I don't know. Okay?" He took her point, but she didn't get it. "I tend to do this thing where people are nice to me for two seconds and they act like they have my back, but they don't and I get screwed." He was talking fast, trying to spit it out before he could think better or worse or whatever of it. "But I've never really asked if I could trust them, I just trusted them, and that's my own fault so this time I'm asking."

Sarial had not seen that coming, and was abruptly struck by a sense of what she thought Earthlings called deja vu. Nearly everyone in the militia either was now a teenager, or had been on her watch. Before the Drules, she'd done quite a lot of talking them through teenager things. Before they had to become actual soldiers…

But Daniel was already a soldier.

Gorma had finished with the splint, but given the long and animated conversation that he hadn't understood a word of, he decided not to bother with his standard lecture for his patient to stop injuring himself. It didn't seem to have worked last time, anyway. So he simply nodded that they could go, and shooed them out of his supply room.

It gave Sarial time to decide how to deal with the question… though really, it wasn't that hard to decide, and she turned to him as they exited the tunnels. Her job was to aid the strangers and to take care of her militia. Period.

"I'd make a poor Captain if I couldn't be trusted." She looked him in the eye again, this time holding his gaze. "I will have your back. But I saw you being dragged off at the cookout. Am I really the person you need to be asking?"

Oh, of course she had. Daniel laughed bitterly. "Yeah. That was Lance, he's my…" Definitely not an M-word. "My person, or he's supposed to be, he promised but it's not—he won't—we had a mission, okay, but now it's—ugh!" How the hell was he supposed to explain this? "Okay. You know how we're supposed to 'save' Arus? I can't tell you how and I don't know why I can't, because I know about it and I have nothing to do with it. There's weird magical bullshit and I can't explain it and neither can my team but it's supposed to save us, but I'm not a part of it, I'm the only team member who's not part of it in some way! I'm not important and I'm terrified I'm going to get left behind and I—I need them." Scowl. "And I'm pissed off because I can't even be mad at them for it, because what are they supposed to do? Let all of you die?"

He finally fell silent, catching his breath. And his brain helpfully provided a question he had not given it permission to have.

If it's not their fault, why are you abandoning them?

"…We would prefer they not do that," Sarial admitted with a grim smile. So many full reports, now that I've convinced him to make them… "But who's leaving you behind? You're still here. And I'm certain they haven't kicked you out, if you left Toast on your ship."

He had not given her permission to point that out, either!

Of course they hadn't kicked him out. They'd been making every effort to include him. He'd pushed them away. He'd been so certain they'd leave him eventually, he refused to see that they'd done nothing but be there for him… and here he was spilling his guts to an Arusian he'd met less than a week ago, to avoid talking to the person who'd had his back every damn time…

"Oh, fuck."

Sarial hid a small, knowing smile. She might not know exactly what was going through his head, but she did know the Expletive of Epiphany when she heard it.

"I'm wrong here, aren't I?" That was a rhetorical question. "Oh my god." I just threw a giant fucking tantrum for nothing. "I gotta go find Lance and tell him I'm sorry…" But Lance hadn't been the only one to reassure him and get asshole behavior in response, either. "Aw, MAN." He looked at the captain and grimaced. "I gotta… I gotta apologize to Keith, and pray that the sword up his ass doesn't demand a heartfelt conversation about emotions."

And that was the end of Sarial's composure; even she couldn't quite hold back the laugh. "Is that what you—" Thinking back to the commander's tale, she nodded slowly. "He is rather emotional, isn't he?" She didn't think it was a bad thing. Maybe Daniel would decide that too, in time… though probably not any time soon.

"He really is." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's gross." Standing around here wasn't going to accomplish anything else… he gave her a small, sheepish grin. "Thanks for the medical help and uh, being a makeshift therapist? I'm gonna go find Lance or Keith and fix things." He took off.

Finally letting the knowing smile out, Sarial spoke to the empty air where he'd been standing. "Any time."

*****

It was still a long walk—how far did these tunnels go? Well, the volcano hadn't been close. With every step, Lance tried to push down the anger. He was well practiced at that, after all… partitioning it off. Sure, sometimes something would trigger him. It would all explode outward, in one bright burst that he knew scared people—he'd seen it more than once. The looks, the disapproval, the inability to understand what could make him act out so swiftly and violently. He could never explain it, not really. Except for…

Flynn.

It was easy at that thought to feel another burst of anger, another hole ripped out of his soul by a different set of monsters. But monsters, all the same. Lance curled his hands into fists and closed his eyes, the glow of the magma penetrating his eyelids just enough to keep him walking straight…

He didn't want to feel this, but it seemed almost like the Lion of Flame wanted him to. And that he didn't understand at all, and it kept the fury boiling in his guts, even as he felt a familiar curl of comforting warmth wrap around him… that presence.

But it was only a presence now.

It wasn't healing—it'd been healing since they landed on Arus, and he realized it abruptly by its absence. It had been comfortable, something that he'd wanted to seek out and know. Something that had gifted him some sort of peace, maybe a focus. That warmth. And he'd wanted to touch the lion, like that mystical metal, and feel that comfort curl around his arm again…

"Soon," came the warm, gruff voice in his head.

Opening his eyes, Lance realized he could see something ahead. An entrance? Dark rock and the crimson glow of magma lay before him. Hurrying forward he stepped through the opening and gasped, leaping back just as quickly, expecting to be burned by the heat because there was an ocean of lava in front of him.

He was in a volcano.

It was preposterous.

He stared at the sea of lava, and he felt it. The heat was visible, he saw the waves of it in shifting front of him. But it wasn't too hot, not even uncomfortable. Only the warmth…

"How?"

"That I cannot answer."

The voice boomed in his head, almost like it was outside of his brain for once, and it made him look to his left.

And he saw it.

A lion.

A gigantic metallic lion, the same brilliant red as the metal scrap that had haunted him. Sleek, sharp radiator fins rose from its back and shoulders, and he saw the red sigil from the murder temple etched onto one flank. It sat on a platform, atop some rocky steps—but steps, clear steps toward it, no more of the nonsense like the tunnels—and he rushed forward at full speed, all the impatience from yesterday slamming into him all over again. As he got closer it just loomed bigger and brighter in the glow of the den, and finally he was staring up at him…

The lion's fierce eyes felt like they were piercing his soul.

"And now we are face to face, cub."

All the time he'd spent imagining this, dreaming of it. All the things he'd thought he wanted, needed to say. They were all lost for a moment in the glow of the magma.

"Hi," he squeaked.

The low, growling purr filled his mind. "I am Red Lion, the Lion of Flame."

Lance nodded, he'd known that, yet it felt like a momentous introduction and he couldn't find his voice. All he could do was stare at this lion, this sentient metal being that had been calling to him for the last week—was it only a week, how was it possibly only a week, or had it been calling to him since Kithran?—and that he'd known he belonged…

Belonged with?

Doubt rose again.

"That is healthy."

"Is it?" Lance snorted. He didn't generally do doubt.

"I would say so. Our Bonding isn't something to be done or taken lightly. For all the instincts that drove you here, there must still be questions."

There was sure as fuck one question. "Why the dream, Red?" The words were low and bitter, but calling the lion by its name sent the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Ah, yes, the indelible memory."

Lance clenched his jaw. "Seems too nice of a word for it."

"It is ugly, it's destructive. And it is not the only memory of loss etched into your soul."

Hell no. Not again. "I don't want to talk about him…"

"Oh, but he matters."

Lance nodded. Hell, they'd all mattered. Cam, even Jace… Flynn the most, for him. But the Drules had to pay for them all.

"And they matter."

His family. Where it had all started, the rage he'd held onto ever since. "Yes."

"What is it you want to do to honor their memory?"

"Pain…" Lance scoffed. "I want to mete out equal pain."

"Ah, yes. Hurt those that hurt you."

Yes. But also no, he realized as the lion's voice washed over him. "They're still out there, the Galra, attacking anyone who doesn't submit to their demands. The Alliance sees them as just a fucking nuisance but they destroy families, homes, lives… and the fucking Drules are no better. This place looks like…"

"Your home." Lance clenched his jaw, unable to respond. "And so you believe it deserves…"

"Vengeance."

"Or…"

"Or?"

"Justice."

"Same thing!"

"Is it?" Red chuckled, a sound of warmth and sympathy. "Your grief is a fire, cub."

"What is that supposed to mean?" he demanded, wiping a few stubborn tears trying to well up in his eyes.

"It burns bright, and it can be channeled to greatness."

Greatness? "You can help me get vengeance."

"That depends. You wish to fight for this world?"

For Arus… he thought about the wreck of a castle, the destruction of its village, the faces of the Arusians he'd seen and how they were fighting, how they'd survived it all. "Yes, of course. They deserve payback, they deserve their home."

He missed his home. Arus's blue sky reminded him of home. Red's warmth promised a place where he belonged, a place where he could make some difference. To spare others what he'd gone through. He reached out to touch the lion's bright red metal and felt that warmth curl around him, calming him almost immediately.

"I can't promise you that we will find your vengeance," Red cautioned.

"What can you promise?"

"Nothing but that we can fight against the injustice done in this place and time. There are those who can yet be protected… and they, too, matter."

Protect what else matters. His thoughts went to Daniel. To the whole team. To the crumbling castle and those within it. Fighting against injustice—that was payback, in a way, wasn't it? Protecting this place, denying it to the Drules, they were two sides of the same coin. He could do both.

Yet one question still lingered, and he looked around the sea of magma. It was as different from the Beau Terre blue of the sky as could be, but it felt right all the same. "Why me?"

There was a pause. Just a moment, just enough to focus the words. "Because your grief is a fire."

…This was it.

It had been inevitable. Lance knew that now. This had been set in motion from the second he touched the red metal, all those months ago. He had been searching for this, and he had to believe in this path. This lion.

He did.

Nodding, he looked up at the huge lion's face. "Alright, Red. Let's fucking bond."

There was a gruff chuckle, and on some instinct he reached up and touched one of the gleaming claws before him.

—There was a flare, a sudden all-encompassing heat that felt like it wrapped around him and burned right into his bones, and he was burning but not panicking and the magma churning around him seemed to have flooded his veins, and then it was over—

Gasping for breath, flailing to recover, he heard Red's voice. More than heard, he felt it, resonating through him.

"You are now the Knight of the Flame, Paladin of Justice. And your name shall be…"

*****

"…Firestriker."

The surge had been almost unbearable, yet over the instant it began. Walking back to the Falcon with Pidge, picking up Daniel as they went, Sven had barely had time to greet the gunner before his eyes had gone blue and stayed there. Then there was heat—intense, searing heat, seeming to shape the blue energy that danced around him into afterimages of flame.

Then it was gone.

Pidge's eyes had glowed at the same time, but all that had swept through the other two was a warm breeze. Now they looked back at Sven, and he shook his head slightly. He couldn't explain what had happened, but wasn't that about typical? There was only one thing he knew for sure.

Lance…

"His name is Firestriker."