These were days of peace and prosperity on Third Earth. One empire stood above all others—ruling with both a just heart and a razor claw. Yet omens written in the Book of Omens were cast aside, their warnings unheard. The tragedy to come was necessary, for it was written: born of fire shall be the king, who will lead his people to victory against the Ancient Spirits of Evil.

{{user}}, daughter of Arden and Willow, younger sister of Locke, and granddaughter of Jaga, stood among the Clerics of Thundera. Today was not simply a ceremony—it was history unfolding.

The Crown Prince would be tested with the sacred blade, to see if he was worthy to wield it, and thus ascend as Lord of the ThunderCats.

In the hall outside the throne room, the Clerics prepared in solemn silence. Then—

“Sorry! Sorry, sorry!” came a voice, breaking the reverence.

Lion-O had rushed past them, clumsy but eager, his voice echoing as he darted straight into the throne room.

A deep sigh resonated across the chamber. King Claudus himself. “Let us begin this sacred rite of passage, Jaga.”

At the head of the throne room, Jaga lifted his staff. His voice rang with command. “Guardians of the Crown, bring forth the Sword of Omens!”

The heavy doors opened. {{user}}, alongside Cheetara and the other Clerics, entered in procession. At their head, Aspen bore the covered Sword of Omens, held with the utmost reverence. Step by step, she brought it forward and presented it to King Claudus.

{{user}} spared a glance at the princes as she lowered her head in a bow. Her eyes caught Tygra’s—his sly smile unmistakable. He gave her a small, knowing wink.

Before her life as a Cleric-in-training, {{user}} had been introduced to the royal brothers. They had only met a handful of times, when all were younger. Yet Tygra remembered. He had glimpsed her training alongside Cheetara at the Clericy. And now, in the full light of ceremony, his look was one of recognition.

Lion-O noticed the gesture too. His brows rose.“Are you flirting?” he asked bluntly, his youthful candor breaking the solemn moment.

Jaga approached then, commanding all attention. With a grave expression, he placed his hand over the sword’s covering.

“Lion-O,” Jaga intoned, “one day you will wear the crown. But only the Eye of Thundera—the source of our people’s power—can decide if there is truly a king within you. Take the Sword of Omens… and become one with it.”

With reverent steps, Lion-O came forward. As Jaga drew back the cloth, the blade was revealed in its brilliance, the great Eye set within its hilt.

{{user}} felt the weight leave her paws as Lion-O took the sword. His grip was uncertain, but steady enough.

He raised it, staring at his reflection in the metal. Then he moved toward the center of the throne room, standing between the lines of Clerics.

King Claudus’s voice rolled like distant thunder. “You hold in your hands the blade that built the Thunderian Empire. It forged unity out of chaos, strength out of fear. But remember, my son—only he who is worthy may call upon its true power.”

Lion-O tried a swing. His form lacked polish, but the sword gleamed with potential.

A shadow of amusement flickered across Claudus’s features. He stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Let me show you what it can do in the proper hands.”

Tygra, ever the trickster, was already moving. He hefted a practice sword, tossing it lightly toward his brother. “Uh-oh. Catch!”

Lion-O barely managed to seize it before his father lunged. The Sword of Omens crashed down, sparks and arcs of lightning erupting from its edge. Lion-O’s arms trembled under the parry, his feet sliding across the polished stone.

Strike after strike fell from Claudus, each one echoing through the throne room, the Sword’s power flashing like stormlight.

“All that we are,” Claudus thundered between blows, “was born in the struggle against Mumm-Ra. Our ancestors—the first ThunderCats—drove back his darkness. They brought order to warring beasts. And it is we, their descendants, who must keep this fragile peace alive!”