Cassandra bit her lip as her eyes scanned over the shelves. In the dim light, the labels were barely readable, but darkness was barely an inconvenience to her feline eyes. Every box was where she had expected them to be, but the one she sought was nowhere to be found. With feline grace, the leopardess got onto her hands and knees, making sure no single nook or cranny was left unturned, reading every label twice over.

 

She peeked into every cupboard, drawer, and box she could lay her paws on, but it seemed the elusive package was going to remain that way. She was careful to set each item back in its place, making sure what had been disturbed looked otherwise. Before she knew it, she had reached the limit of her determination and with a resigned sigh, turned out of the darkness and stepped into the light.

 

“Honey, we’re out of chocolate chips.”

 

The black panther stopped stirring the large bowl in his hands, setting it flat down on the countertop before taking a moment to wipe his paws on a nearby kitchen towel. He sauntered over to where Cassandra was, peeking into the unlit pantry from over her shoulder.

 

“Looks like it’s going to be just regular cookies,” he purred with a sultry voice Cassandra knew all too well. She felt the urge to pout in disagreement dissolve away, the rumbling of the rich baritone cheering her up before she even knew it did.

 

“I did promise the kits chocolate chip cookies.”

 

She slid her arms around his waist, her golden rosette coat contrasting against the inky indigo of her husband, to which he gently brushed with his nose against the side of her arching neck.

 

“You’ll spoil their teeth rotten,” he chastised.

 

“Only because you cook so well.”

 

Cassandra grinned in reply, partly at her successful retort and partly because the panther’s raspy tongue had begun to groom in sensual honesty. Slow, long deliberate strokes against her jawline made her melt into the wall of muscle. Her paws, too, were alive, barely unsheathed claws gently digging into his lower back. The panther hissed his approval into her ear, enthralled with her ability to find his weak spots so easily.

 

Their show of passion came to an abrupt end as the small console in the wall began to beep in earnest urgency. Cassandra tried to stall, nuzzling under the panther’s throat to keep the flame alive. However, the longer she put off the high pitched alerts, the more annoying it became. It was, unfortunately, one of the things she insisted her security chief implement to keep her from simply waving it off.

 

“Would you like me to get it?” the panther offered, his warm embrace making the offer too good to resist. Cassandra sighed, shaking his head and gently nuzzling into the soft cotton-clad body soaked with his rich scent.

 

“They’re probably looking for me.” She pressed an arm against his broad, muscular chest, and the panther gave her the space she needed. His arms still remained around her waist, but Cassandra knew he would not try to stop her from carrying out her duties. He was the strong, silent type that never got in her way, the quiet spouse to her demanding lifestyle. He was her source of inner peace when things got out-of-hand, her keeper of emotions, and master of her home.

 

Cassandra felt another squeeze around her waist, the panther tilting his head in the direction of the intercom. The unspoken conversation concluded by her approaching the shrieking device and waving a hand in front of the proximity sensor.

 

“Go ahead, Chief.”

 

“My apologies, your Highness,” came the hollow, metallic voice. “There’s something you should be aware of on the news.”

 

Cassandra whipped her head around to the blank screen of the kitchen television, but one glance at the panther told her that he would take care of it. As he reached for the remote and began fiddling with the channels, she turned back to the intercom.

 

“How bad is it, Chief?”

 

“Significant enough. Counsellor Maxwell’s convoy is ten minutes…”

 

The jingle of the news station’s breaking news broadcast caught her attention, the volume of it now sufficiently audible from across the kitchen. The elaborate animations faded out together with the music, accompanied by bright yellow and red tickers scrolling headlines across the picture. A shot of the city panned across the screen, its jerky movements probably indicative of a live shot from one of the news choppers hovering in the sky. It was not until the image settled on the smouldering outline of a building that she felt an invisible weight pressing down on her shoulders.

 

“For those of you just tuning in, you’re viewing live pictures of the downtown New Luna. We are getting reports from multiple sources that there was an explosion at the Federal Command building. Enforcement and emergency personnel are on scene and they are advising the public to remain indoors and stay away from the area. We’re going live to our reporter on the ground. Jeffrey?”

 

There was a momentary pause in the audio, punctuated by the shrill cries of sirens and muted shouting in the background. The image shifted smoothly to the roving reporter, a Jack Russell, one paw covering his ear and the other clutching a microphone. The media had obviously caught wind of the story very quickly, with many reporters stationed behind the safety of a police barricade. They were sufficiently far away to give the cameras a shot of both reporter and building in one frame.

 

“Reports came in of a massive explosion at the top floor of the Federal Command tower. Witnesses we’ve spoke to say that there didn’t seem to be anything amiss or out of the ordinary before the explosion. They also said that there despite the blast, they didn’t see any fire. Authorities have refused to comment on what has happened, only saying that rescue efforts are underway…”

 

The rest of the news report was lost to the leopardess as she stared at the images on the screen. It took her a few moments to digest the headlines, and then a few more moments to realise that her security chief was addressing her through the intercom.

 

“Chief,” she acknowledged, her voice distracted, “how long ago was this?”

 

“Ten minutes,” crackled the intercom. “We’re trying to get in touch with our people, but we lost all contact with them just before the incident.”

 

Thoughts began to race through Cassandra’s head, her eyes watching the television whilst her ears remained trained on the intercom. The city centre was just a stone’s throw away from where she and her family was. She also had staff working in and around the Federal Command tower at the Feline Home-world embassy. Friends of the family were Federal Command officials, and they too were based in that tower.

 

Yet initial risk assessments by her security detail suggested that New Luna posed no potential threats or any form of intra-national instability. The economy was rosy, the political climate was stable, and the tourism trade a shining beacon of success. These and many other reasons meant that having a vacation home here was an easy choice. It had been so since she was a young kit, and years later, she still did not see any reason to doubt so otherwise.

 

At least, until minutes ago.

 

“Your Highness, Counsellor Maxwell will be here shortly.”

 

Cassandra nodded quietly to herself, glancing at the television for a final glimpse of the live news report before making a beeline for the front of the house.

 

“I’ll meet him up…”

 

“He also seems to have brought additional resources with him.”

 

The leopardess stopped in her tracks, turning back towards the intercom and hovering over it as though the distance she had put between her and it had played tricks on her ears. The panther, too, perked up, muting the television with a flick of the remote.

 

“Elaborate,” she growled.

 

“There are at least a dozen or more SUVs heading down the driveway. All their tags came back clean, but they’ve all marked as Class M tags by the system.”

 

Cassandra glanced at her husband, a silent glance enough to communicate her intentions. He shared a look, and nodded, slipping smoothly out of the kitchen. Her first worry, as a mother, were the kits. However, in the safety of her own home, and with her security detail tracking their every move, she knew they were safe. Her fears were eased when she heard her husband cheerfully hustle the kits up to their bedrooms with the opportunity for more playtime.

 

Her next worry was the convoy of vehicles bearing down on her private space. Few vehicles ran down the long, private track leading down to the modest farm she had here. The Feline Home-world Department of Security had covered all the bases; cameras to scan and identify vehicles when they wandered in, discrete sensors to read identification tags, anti-vehicle measures embedded deep in the earth, and an armoury so well-stocked she could start her own private army. It was not the quantity of vehicles that concerned her, but the Class M tags. Class M would suggest that the incident at New Luna was more than what she had thought it would be.

 

A flurry of activity began to rush through the house as Cassandra made her way to the front door. Domestic servants were hastily moving through the corridors, tucking away miscellaneous items back into the specially designed bombproof cupboards and drawers. The living room had remained untouched, but the kits’ toys had been stacked away, the television displaying a mosaic of news feeds, and the Kevlar shades had been lowered. She declined the offer of her personal protective armour from one of the servants and took her royal cloak instead; being too safe would only serve to stir a greater sense of paranoia, she decided.

 

By the time the front doors had been opened for her, the convoy of black vehicles had just pulled up. She ignored the rest, choosing only to focus on the vehicle at the very front and the bobcat standing at the head of it.

 

“Your Highness,” he greeted, a hand pressed against the breast of his thick, heavy robes.

 

“What’s going on, Max? I turn on the news and suddenly, you’re here? With MAGI?”

 

“We need your portal,” he stated simply. The older bobcat’s muzzle was calm and collected, but if he had to come all the way out here just to look for her, she knew that it was probably urgent. Turning tail, she began to head back towards the house alongside the other feline, who was followed at a conservative distance by those straggling out of the convoy.

 

“I saw what happened.” Cassandra turned to look at the bobcat beside her, shooting a gaze of concern and confusion when his eyes met hers. “What really happened?”

 

Maxwell said nothing as he climbed the steps up to the front door, which was now wide open to accommodate the hustling crowd behind them. Only when they were inside, out of the sun and within the relative safety of four walls did he begin to speak.

 

“At nine o’clock Galaxy Standard Time, there was a shootout between MAGI operatives and multiple unknown assailants at the Astra Docks on Hartford.” The bobcat paused, letting the information sink in before continuing. “MAGI responded with the local authorities, but the assailants vanished. One operative was wounded, and another while trying to protect her.”

 

Cassandra struggled to put the pieces of the puzzle together as they strolled from one end of the house to the other. Hartford was quite a way from New Luna, falling under the jurisdiction of the canines, and had a significant MAGI presence there. Still, an exchange of gunfire was too common to have escalated to their present situation.

 

“It’s not as simple as that, is it?” she countered, stopping in front of a large door and pressing her paw to the biometric scanner. Maxwell shook his head.

 

“Operatives found that the rounds used were laced with dark magic.” Cassandra flicker her head sharply just as the door unlocked with an audible thud. The bobcat pulled open the door, gesturing to the flight of steps that led down into the heart of the compound.

 

“How about the operatives?” Cassandra’s trepidation to her question was audible, and her voice trailed off as she continued. “Did they…”

 

“They are alive. Just.”

 

Maxwell’s answer provided a little comfort to her, but the effects of dark magic were so infamous that surviving was reason enough to celebrate. There were more dire consequences to the exposure of dark magic, but to have escape with one’s life was to have escaped the very clutches of death. Many had fallen, few lived to talk about it.

 

They descended to the basement levels of the compound, set in cold concrete and lit with the harsh glow of LED lamps that outlined the path they were to follow. It would be at least a few more corridors before they reached their destination, but Cassandra still could not shake the feeling that Maxwell still was not as forthcoming as she had hoped he would be.

 

“Is that all?” Her voice was tinged with frustration at having to skip and dodge around the truth. The subtle hiss was enough to make the bobcat’s ears twitch, a habit Cassandra had picked up early on when he had run out of excuses. She had to develop a way to read beyond the words that officials wrote, which often was coated in a thick layer of prevarication and perjury. More often than not, it proved useful when trying to sort the wheat from the chaff. Maxwell’s whiskers twitched, a sign she recognised as hesitation.

 

“We have reason to suspect the prophecy carriers are at risk.”

 

Cassandra stopped in mid-stride, whirled around, and grabbing the bobcat by his coat, slammed him hard against the wall. Her strength was not a surprise to him, since it was common knowledge that she was a black belt and had plenty of training in close quartered self defence. Maxwell had already braced himself for her reaction; he would not have expected anything less.

 

“When were you planning to tell me?” The scowl on her muzzle was more than evident, especially as she pressed her face right up against his. Maxwell remained unfazed, but his heart was pounding hard against his thick robes.

 

“With all due respect, Your Highness,” Maxwell managed in a mildly strangled voice, suppressing his growing frustration with the growing physical discomfort. “You know I would never endanger you, your family, or the greater pride at large. But I cannot risk throwing you into a panic on information that I cannot verify and evidence that I do not have.”

 

Maxwell’s hopes that his words would carry some weight were lifted as the leopardess eased up on him. He knew she was still pissed that she had been left out of the information loop, especially with the rage in her eyes and her fangs still bared. However, the air around them was noticeably less tense with the bulk of the friction out of the way. The stare in Cassandra’s eyes was just as intense as before, but she pulled him off the hard wall and readjusted the front of his robes so that any sign of their earlier scuffle would not show.

 

“For the Pride?” The leopardess questioned accusingly, but only as an act of affirmation of where their loyalties lay.

 

“For the Pride,” Maxwell echoed, relieved that the situation had gone over relatively well. Cassandra’s temper was not to be trifled with, although he had already gone through several episodes of outbursts greater than today’s. He was a seasoned veteran, just as she knew how to read him like an open book.

 

“So what do you know?” Cassandra started back down the corridor, followed closely behind by the bobcat. The tone in her voice was clear: no bullshit, no dumbing down of details, no more covering up.

 

“There have been six carriers who have mysteriously died in the past 6 months. We thought it was too much of a coincidence, so the committee started digging deeper. The deaths were only scratching the surface.”

 

“How bad is it?” Cassandra ventured.

 

“Bad enough that the senior mages are on their way here.” The worry in Maxwell’s voice was evident, and rightly so. To have the committee come out to the frontline was a sign that protocol alone was no longer effective. The last time the committee had convened together was in the midst of a bloody and violent war. “Today’s assassination attempt suggests that they are targeting a prophecy carrier here on New Luna.”

 

The heavy iron doors seemed out of place from the sleek, minimalist corridor. It was still lit by modern spotlights, but the intricate carvings that covered it and the rock it was set into seemed positively ancient. The pair stepped onto the wooden walkway that extended where the corridor ended, a clear modern extension over the uneven, cracked surface below. Without slowing down, Cassandra gave a simple wave of her hand towards the direction of the door. In response, the doors began to creak, and a crack began to part down the centre. What seemed like an enormous effort was made effortless as they swung open just wide enough for them to file in side-by-side.

 

The ceiling was as high as the light from the upward pointing spotlights could reach. Below, workers buzzed around in activity, although half the workers were hunched over computer terminals and the other half had armoured vests and high-powered rifles. Their paws made little noise on the metal walkway, unlike the heavy thuds of boots against the concrete floor stories below.

 

“One of our people?” Cassandra pushed open a door, revealing a small control room lit by only the monitors, albeit briefly as the overhead lighting picked up in intensity.

 

“The committee thinks so,” Maxwell nodded as he took a few broad strides forward to yet another set of doors, which he pushed and held open for the leopardess to pass. “That’s why they called us.”

 

Another corridor had to be traversed before they reached their destination, but this had a far different tone than the rest. Where the others were sterile and littered with security cameras, there were no security devices here. The white walls evoked warmth, despite the colour, and the material was pliant to the touch. Their padded feet were cushioned further as they walked along, the floor made from the same material the walls and the ceiling were covered in. The source of light seemed to come from all around them, though never ever too blinding to allow them to see their destination ahead.

 

“We know of three parties of interest right now,” said the bobcat as he handed his Communicator to Cassandra. The screen was already lit with three muzzles; a boar, a wolf, and a tiger. “You know Field Marshall Endekes. The wolf is his assistant, Agent Fabian Torrez. They are part of the administrative team of Federal Command in New Luna.”

 

“The tiger looks familiar,” Cassandra bit her lip as she struggled to remember. The markings seemed to ring a bell, but she could not put a finger to it.

 

“His name is Alexander Lucius Gray,” Maxwell offered. “Son of the late Gerald Dominic and Geraldine Sh’ala Gray. Adopted son of…”

 

“The Grand Mage. Damn it.” Cassandra heaved, a knot suddenly forming in her stomach and her steps doubling in pace. “He’s the prophecy carrier?”

 

She managed to catch Maxwell’s nod from the edges of her periphery vision. Her hand with the communicator thrust backwards, which quickly snapped forward again once the bobcat had his Communicator back. The corridor ended and expanded into a large, featureless room with walls just as dazzlingly white as the passage they had been in. A few of her staff were here, clad in long, flowing robes that came in only a gradient of grey, much unlike the senior-ranking bobcat’s multicoloured one. They bowed when the pair entered, resuming activity only when Cassandra signalled them to.

 

“Is he safe?” It was an obvious question that she would inevitably had to ask regardless if Maxwell had the answers or not. “Is he even alive?”

 

“We cannot be sure.” The bobcat’s reply was diplomatic at best and cautious at worst. He gestured towards a terminal, lit with a grid of video images, and then pointed to the top row of static. “We lost footage from the upper floors. The network is completely exhausted, so all video feeds have been throttled to preserve bandwidth.”

 

A gesture towards a bank of video images enlarged the grid, and immediately, Cassandra could see what he was talking about. The video feed of staff and members of the public evacuating through the main lobby resembled more like a slideshow, even though each picture was crisp and clean enough to make out fine details. Some feeds showed no movement or action whatsoever, until a blur streaked across the screen, indicating someone had already walked past a camera handicapped by the network.

 

It was clear that the video surveillance was hugely unreliable, but it did show that the rest of the building was empty, not on fire, and structurally intact. If their targets of interest had survived, they were probably making their way down. Until they had established visual confirmation that they were still alive, they had to assume the worst.

 

“Doesn’t the Federal Command building have their own portal?” The question popped up moments before it left her muzzle, and Cassandra silently reprimanded herself for not having thought of it earlier. “Why us?”

 

“Officially, their portal isn’t responding to attempts to open it.”

 

“Unofficially?” Cassandra shot a glance to Maxwell, reminding him that she did not like the way he was avoiding the heart of the topic.

 

“Unofficially,” he reminded, although with a quieter tone, “they think the portal has been sabotaged.”

 

The ramifications were beginning to sink in, and the sinking expression on the leopardess’ muzzle was a dead giveaway. A sabotage could not have been achieved without a saboteur, and a saboteur would not have been possible if it had been planted by the enemy. The implications were obvious; if the enemy had infiltrated their ranks, then nowhere was safe. For a young mother with two young cubs to care for, the safety of her family was at stake. For fledging royalty, it was a threat to all members of the royal family. It was a wild assumption, but one that could be very real.

 

While there were situations in the past where they had dealt with spies, never had lives been taken nor had there been a critical strike on a key facility. The enemy was becoming bolder, braver, and stronger. Furthermore, the extent of the damage seen on the television could not have been achieved with mere supermarket ingredients. It looked professional, and it was definitely planned well in advance. It almost as though a trap had been laid, and their own people had unknowingly walked straight into it.

 

Cassandra knew there was no point in asking how they achieved such mayhem. Somewhere, some team in some secret location would already be analysing, reviewing, and running through a hundred thousand sets of data to find out the who, what, and how. She met up once with such a team, and the amount of detail they managed to sieve out made her ever more cautious of browsing for information on the network or even changing the channel on the television. That was their job, and they did it very well. Her job was to lead her people, especially at a moment of crisis like now, and to reassure other members of her pride that everything was under control.

 

“How long before the portal is ready?” she asked, directing her question to the nearest staff member she could lay eyes on.

 

“Two minutes, Your Highness,” came the short response, just the way she liked it.

 

“Good. Has transportation been arranged?”

 

“Yes,” replied another staffer.

 

“Is Mother or Father aware of anything yet?”

 

It took all a few seconds of deafening silence before it was broken by the bobcat.

 

“No.” He kept his answer short, although he quickly continued when the first signs of a wrinkle began to crease along her forehead. “Their advisors are waiting for us...”

 

“I know, I know,” she spat out, clearly disgusted with the sudden amount of pressure that suddenly weighed down on her sinking shoulders. “First response protocols. Fuck.”

 

Cassandra hardly swore, and few others had ever heard a cuss coming from her mouth, given her status and rank. The only other time when members of her staff heard her swear so openly was when she had crashed the royal limousine while learning how to drive. Whenever she was mad at herself, she swore, and although she swore never to swear out loud ever again, it was a habit she could barely shake off.

 

The leopardess sighed, unable to suppress the vocal disappointment that her holiday was falling apart so quickly. It was the first time since starting a family that she had a proper sit-down or be able to take advantages of the opportunity to sleep in late. She did not have to wake up to countless reports greeting her in the mornings, nor did she have to entertain the countless nobles at needless parties. Just like her younger days in University, she relished in the opportunity to feel ordinary, blend in with the crowd, and just do normal things. She could go to the farmer’s market and touch the food she would eat, run out to the ice cream parlour and lay her paws on an ice cream cone, or simply stroll through a park on a quiet evening. Yes, her security detail was always close at hand, but more often than not, they would be sitting by the beach and enjoying a hotdog together with her, rather than forming an obvious circle around her like as though she were made of paper. She scolded, reminded, and encouraged them to make her feel normal. She wanted her own private pride to have some semblance of normalcy instead of constantly being on the edge and living in fear of a danger that might not even exist.

 

Now, however, the danger was right here in her own backyard. Her days of feeling ordinary were numbered, especially given the severity of what lay ahead in the coming future. Their enemy was gaining the upper hand; the last time they did, it turned into the bloodiest massacre that had been documented since the start of the new era.

 

“A penny for your thoughts?”

 

The baritone voice made her heart leap in her chest just as the warmth of the black paw against her own soothed her ragged nerves. She leaned back into her husband’s chest like a tired traveller leaning heavily on a walking stick. It was times like this when she was thankful she had a shoulder to lean on when things began to get rough. It was her blessing to find a mate like him, even though he had had a commoner’s life.

 

“We’re not safe here,” she whispered softly, eyes glancing at the countdown as it ticked under the one minute mark. “Not anymore. We need to get everyone back home.”

 

“Full evacuation?” His question was met with a solemn nod.

 

“But I’m not leaving until the last of my people gets on the last shuttle.” Cassandra spun around and grabbed his paws into hers, clenching them tightly. The panther stayed silent, but his tail had stiffened visibly, a sign of worry. “I need to be here. I’m staying behind.”

 

“I know you do,” he replied, in the same calm voice she knew so well and loved with all her heart. “And I will be by your side for as long as you are.”

 

Cassandra felt the weight simply glide off her shoulders the moment his words reached her ears. She gave her mate a gentle nuzzle into his cotton clad chest, whispering a soft ‘Thank you’ as she did. Not only had he remembered their promise to never question anything pertaining to their official duties, he reaffirmed that promise with another to always accompany her, no matter the occasion or nature of the event. For as long as they had been together, he never once broke that promise.

 

“Max?” called out the panther.

 

“Jeremiah?” Maxwell acknowledged in return.

 

“Could you stay with the kits? I’ll be accompanying Cassie, and we need someone we can trust to look after them.”

 

Cassandra raised her head over her husband’s shoulder, making eye contact with the bobcat and nodding quietly. Despite being tasked as a babysitter, there was an excited twitch in the bobcat’s tail. Maxwell’s spouse had passed on years ago, leaving him behind with no kits of his own. Ever since becoming Cassandra’s official advisor, he had been given the private honour of becoming the kits’ minder, the equivalent of a godparent. The kits didn’t mind either, especially since they had an uncle who lavishly doted on them as if they were one of his own.

 

“Portal synchronisation in twenty-seconds.”

 

Cassandra gently nuzzled the black panther’s shoulder before turning her gaze on the solid bulkhead door. The small window provided little clue to what lay beyond it, but the increasingly rapid flashes of light meant that everything was on track. Countdowns lit up on every display, small warnings lighting up the boards as a precaution against entering the chamber.

 

“Ten seconds.”

 

A soft beep indicated the start of audible computerised countdown, although in the distance, their sharp hearing picked up the shrill of klaxons blaring through the rest of the compound. Even though the light show was reaching the peak of its climax, for all the chaos that the thin perspex window could offer, it was nerves that made the leopardess’ heart pound harder in her chest and her arms tighten around the panther.

 

It was not her first portal activation, but every one felt like it. She hardly used them, although senior mages were seasoned portal travellers. The sensation of travelling from one place to another was beyond her feline senses could comprehend, and every time she used it, she would feel sick, dizzy, and nauseous at journey’s end. Sure, it was infinitely faster than space travel, but it felt like an eternity to pass through.

 

“Three… Two… One…”

 

A muted whump caused the floor to shudder ever so briefly, which their sensitive paws picked up on straightaway. The light through the window shone briefly with an intense glare, before blinking out to normalcy. Cassandra could hear the whirring of computers, echoed with the rapid tapping of keys from the technicians. She steadied her breathing, before sliding from the panther’s arms and making her way to the portal chamber.

 

“Chamber resonance dissipating,” called out a technician before a double beep rang out. “Chamber is clear. Portal open.”

 

“Portal open,” Cassandra repeated, her hand resting on the switch that would open the doors. “Opening…”

 

“Cassie!”

 

The snow leopardess paw froze as she heard Jeremiah call out her name with such force and urgency. The last time he did was when terrorists seized the royal palace and she came muzzle-to-muzzle with her assailants. Jeremiah, then her head of security, responded with a hail of gunfire, and she responded with a mean right hook and a solid connect to a midsection of one of abductors. The love story began soon after, but it was ever so long ago that she was reminded of such urgent panic and worry.

 

Whipping her head back, she noticed that everyone’s eyes were now fixed on the monitors. The sound of gunfire suddenly blared through the speakers, mixed with the sound of muffled screaming. On the screen, it was the continuing transmission of the live news broadcast. The camera, however, was shaking visibly, followed by the sound of scraping equipment against tarmac. There was shouting, but the microphone seemed to have been muffled by something large. The picture jerked about, before the camera stopped, the fine detail of the road strewn across the screen.

 

“Get down get down get down…”

 

The voice of the reporter dominated that brief moment, although it was punctuated with heavy breathing and the distinct sound of automatic weaponry being discharged. The image shifted momentarily before the camera was placed onto the ground, the camera operator pushing it past his cover to have it pointing back towards the Federal Command Tower.

 

“Just a few moments ago, we heard gunfire coming from inside the Tower.” The reporter’s voice was nervous and shaky, but he still maintained his professional air about him. “Seconds later, we saw windows shattering and smoke pouring out the West side. As far as we know, no one on the ground was injured. Enforcement officers are now screaming at people to get behind cover and…”

 

“Jeffrey, just to confirm for our viewers… You said gunfire was coming from inside the Tower.”

 

“Yes, definitely from inside the Tower. We saw windows shattered by bullets somewhere on the fourth or fifth floor. We don’t know if anyone is still inside the building, but they’re definitely not friendly.”

 

Cassandra gave a small nod to the panther, whose fingers tapped away at the console. The screen beside it flashed, before images started to fill up in a neat grid. The network was starting to breath a little easier, as indicated by the streaming surveillance video showing wisps of smoke stuttering across some of the cameras. For as long as the images were onscreen, nothing seemed to be happening. It was clear that this was either a lull in the firefight or it had already moved on elsewhere.

 

It was then that one of the video feeds exploded into life, lighting up like as if a white flare had been stuck right into it. The glow mirrored across a few other feeds, which Jeremiah struggled to group together on another screen. The news channel, too, picked up the renewed firefights from the outside, the sounds of scrabbling further into cover accompanying the images that the news camera planted on the sidewalk provided of stragglers in the open dashing for cover. Movement prompted the magnification of a particular video feed, which caught shadowy figures moving through the corridors. There was too little light and too much visual noise to properly determine who it was that was supplying the gunfire.

 

Then, one of the cameras in the corner caught sight of bright blue glow moving, the camera’s sensor taking all but a moment to adjust to the new source of light before illuminating the screen with renewed detail.

 

“He’s alive!” came the quiet gasp from the bobcat, leaning forward with reserved excitement. “They all are!”

 

From out of the corner of the camera, they saw the boar, wolf, and tiger slip down a corridor. The source of the blue glow remained, just out of sight of the camera. A pair of pistols flicked into view, which the canine and feline caught easily. On another camera, they saw them talking, gesturing, before slipping down towards a nearby stairwell. They turned briefly, glancing around the corner, and calling out to someone. The video feeds provided no audio, but their body language told them all they needed to know.

 

“Who are they waiting for?” Cassandra murmured softly. “I thought there were only…”

 

Their heads all snapped towards another corner of the screen as the rapid blinking of the muzzle of a gun lit up the feed. A horse slipped into the picture, wielding a high-powered rifle with one hand and holding up his other. The bright blue glow from around his hand flooded the screen, before adjusting and reveal what seemed like a shield cast in front of him. They could only assume the specks that streaked across the ethereal light were bullets, their assumptions confirmed as the horse rounded a corner and the corner of the wall began disintegrating rapidly.

 

Cassandra grabbed the nearest table as she felt her legs go soft. It seemed like only yesterday that she saw the horse’s muzzle. Now, to find him here, of all places, after he had disappeared off the grid for years. Here he was, right in front of her, right in the middle of a developing situation that threatened to explode right in front of them. She could hardly find her voice, and when she did, her staunch, resolute attitude was beginning to fade.

 

“It’s…”

 

The heavy bulkhead doors gave a solid thump as the locks disengaged before sliding apart to give passage to the elder dragon. It took Cassandra a moment to recognise him, and then another moment to see how worn and tired his muzzle was. It was more than just the stress of portal travel; she knew, as a mother, that this was the look of a father desperate for answers. She also knew that he had recognised the look of shock on her muzzle, evident as he skipped all formalities and headed straight toward her for answers.

 

“Alexander?” S’sythrael hissed anxiously.

 

“He’s alright,” Cassandra nodded numbly, gesturing towards the monitors.

 

The dragon’s head turned towards the video feed watching as the video feed now focused on the tiger making his way down the stairwell. There was a noticeable lift in the dragon’s shoulders, his robe accentuating the growing confidence in his stance. After ensuring that the tiger was making his way to safety, he turned back to Cassandra.

 

“We need…” S’sythrael stopped, finally noticing the forlorn look Cassandra had on her muzzle. “What’s wrong?”

 

Cassandra swallowed the lump in her throat, but it took her much longer to find the courage to speak. She felt the conflict of emotions stirring inside, unsure whether to feel excited or disappointed about making such a discovery. He had gone unspoken for so long that she was sure that he had all been forgotten. The prophecies that spoke about him seemed so unreal and fictitious, completely unlike what she remembered him to be like. Now, here he was; breathing, living, and fulfilling what seemed to be the start of a nightmare.

 

“The Defender is here.”

 

Stunned with this new revelation, the dragon turned around with such force that the snap of his robe drew the attention of the others making their way out of the portal. Cassandra recognised the swan as she rushed out, giving a nod of reassurance to let her know that everything was under control. Other lesser mages filled into the room, their focus of attention turning from the draconic leader to the images on the monitors.

 

S’sythrael leaned in close as he watched the video feed of the horse holding back their attackers cloaked from head-to-toe in what looked like combat armour. The grainy resolution of the video and low light meant that some detail was lost, but the glowing shield the horse had cast for himself was as clear as day. The dragon grimaced as he watched the horse unload a torrent of gunfire with no effect. He knew it would have no effect; they were, after all, not fighting traditional enemies.

 

The dragon wordlessly turned towards the exit, but not before Cassandra reached out and gripped his wrist with such force that the dragon instantly stopped. In the time the dragon had taken to analyse the situation, she, too, had done her calculations and rallied up the fighting spirit she was so well known for.

 

“I’m coming with you.”

 

“Your Highness…” came the dragon’s protest before Cassandra squeezed it out with her paw.

 

“I know the dangers,” she hissed. “I read the prophecies too, and I don’t give a shit. All I know is that an old friend that we forgot about is out there fighting to protect your son against one of the greatest threats we have ever faced. So don’t you dare tell me it’s for my own protection!”

 

Cassandra huffed, surprising herself with the ferocity in her voice. It had a long time since she exerted such dominance, especially in front of her family and her staff, but she knew deep inside that it was the right thing to do. It proved that she was willing and capable to lead her people, and as word would inevitably spread of her showdown with the Grand Mage, it would further reinforce her role as future Pride Mother.

 

There was doubt in the dragon’s eyes, but as he scanned the room looking for an argument, Cassandra could be sure of Jeremiah’s support. Even without breaking eye contact, she could already guess Mia would also be on her side. The leopardess had proven herself in battle before, and she knew he knew.

 

“We leave now.”

 

S’sythrael’s answer to her demands was a command to his subordinates, but she had gotten the reply she wanted. She released her grip on the dragon, and he was off. Mia gave her a supportive smile before issuing additional instructions to the rest of her own staff, who set off in pursuit of him. Cassandra heaved with relief, unable to restrain the grin of success. The grin, however, soon faded as she turned to watch the hastily disappearing dragon. He had the right idea, and she had to follow suit very soon if her hunch about what he was thinking was correct.

 

This was going to be the stone that fell into the pond, and the ripples across the surface was about to be set into motion.