A/N: Asura means 'jealous god' or 'anti-god', and it's one of the six forms within the Desire Realm into which a soul can be reincarnated. Asuras are spirits who possess sufficient will or wisdom to rank above humans in power, but who have fallen victim to their flaws and passions and so are unable to reach the state of deva (angel). They are often those who committed acts of evil despite having good intentions.

Of course, there's no real-life equivalent to reincarnating as an Aura. Or is there? Transhumanists say that technology will keep advancing as time goes by, and so eventually we'll figure out how to become immortal. All we have to do is survive until we reach that point, even if it means freezing our dead bodies to preserve them, and then we'll get to live in eternal bliss. I have to say, that does sound pretty sweet!

But for any of that stuff to ever happen, humanity needs to not destroy itself first. That's, uh, kind of an important condition for success.

Scar and Zira were disturbed in their meditation by the sound of panicked shouting coming from outside. It seemed Shenzi and her hyenas had finally arrived, for all that Scar wished he could have just sat in that cave forever. He looked dolefully through the hole in the ceiling, from which thin rays of starlight still poured down. It would not be much longer until dawn broke.

"Scar," Zira whispered. There was an urgency in her tone that sounded almost like fear, though that was ridiculous. "It's not too late to change plans, if you don't feel up for it. We could just – we could slip away in the confusion, leave all of this behind us."

Scar idly dipped his paw into the remains of the red paste. He had decided to conduct the formal ritual after all, even though it most likely had no effect on their abilities besides the obvious. "Zira," he said. "In accordance with ancient tradition, the Lion Guard are made up of the Pridelands' strongest, fastest, fiercest, bravest and keenest of sight." He pressed his paw onto her shoulder, leaving a crimson print. "You are all of these things, and so I name you my Guard, and into your arms I entrust my life."

"We could run away together; start our own pride." Her eyes were almost pleading. "Scar, these people hate you; you don't owe them anything! Those hyenas were going to destroy them sooner or later anyway, and the drought is not your fault – there's no reason for us to risk our lives on their behalf."

He did not reply, but moved on from one ritual to the next. "Zira. You are my trusted advisor in all things; you are in possession of a singular focus and will, and you wield the power to intercede with the spirits on my behalf." He touched a single paw pad to her forehead, resulting in a circular mark not unlike a third eye. "As such I name you my mjuzi, and unto your spirit I entrust my soul."

She looked away. "Stupid, smooth-talking jerk. Oh, why did I have to fall in love with a snake like you?"

He hesitated for just a moment before continuing. "Zira. For reasons that defy reason, through words that cannot be spoken and decisions that were never made, the two of us have become one." With his paw he drew a line across her brow, its two halves meeting in the centre where the circle remained, forming a crimson tiara. "And so I name you my queen, and into your bosom I entrust my heart."

She sighed, and pressed her own paw onto his shoulder, returning the mark that he had carried ever so long ago. "And you are Scar: My captain, my lover and my rightful king. And if death ever does us part, then I swear I will drag your soul back screaming to where it rightly belongs." That last part was not traditional, but he suspected that if the ritual did have an effect it would only be stronger because of it.

After that there were no more excuses to delay. He sighed deeply, and started to move towards the exit. He stopped and turned when he realized that not one, but two sets of footsteps were following him.

"I can fight," Nuka protested. There was a stubborn set in the boy's jaw. "I'll prove myself to you, dad! I'll beat that stupid monkey for you, and then you'll be king again, you'll see!"

"First of all, I'm not your real dad," said Scar. "Secondly: No."

"Why not?" He heard Zira's shrug more than he saw it. "Let the boy make himself useful for once. There's no point in having him around if he's just going to sit here and wait in a cave."

"Zira," Scar said tiredly, "remember what I told you about the mjuzi? Spiritual power comes from gaining awareness of your own soul – and that means being honest with yourself, and with how you feel."

"Well I'm not a bloody mjuzi," Zira spat back. "I'm a hunter, and so is my son. We fight and we chase and we kill, and that's all we're good for. We'd still be out there now, crisp grass beneath our feet and fresh blood running from our teeth, roaring together in triumph if not for–" She looked away. "Never mind."

Scar hesitated, looking from the frustrated mother to the uncertain boy. Nuka seemed torn between wanting to comfort her and not wanting to become a bloody smear on the wall. "Zira… I'm sorry."

"I said never mind!" Zira snarled at Scar, loud enough to make him jump. "Why don't you ever listen, you…" She shook her head. "Forget it! We've got more important things to worry about right now."

"That you do, my lady." They all spun and turned to face this newcomer – only to find a blue-and-red hornbill perched atop of a stalagmite with a perfectly casual air. "It's good to see that one of you has your priorities in order, at least."

"Zazu," said Scar. "How…"

The bird sighed theatrically. "Sire, I know spatial reasoning is difficult for you mammals to grasp, but I am capable of traversing the third dimension, you know." He gestured at the hole above them. "Also, I might lack auricles, but I can still hear you talk. As could the entire rest of the Pridelands, were they not currently occupied with fending off an unfortunately-timed hyena invasion."

Zira and Nuka were staring along with Scar, unable to decide what to make of this development. Scar was once again getting the sense that he did not truly know the person he was talking to, despite all the years they had spent together. "I thought – after everything you said about wanting to keep things the same, and your loyalty to Mufasa… you'd be, well, against me." He had never dared imagine otherwise, in fact.

"I'll bet he still is," growled Zira. Her muscles were tensed, ready to pounce. "Don't trust him, Scar. He's a talker."

"Hah, you're both right," Zazu said. "I was indeed loyal to the king, Sire, and had I been aware of your plans at the time I most certainly would have warned your brother of your ill intentions. Yet now that you have succeeded, I find that I am once again loyal to the king and resistant to change. So as you can see, my worldview is perfectly consistent." He idly gazed towards the exit, from which ever-louder noises could be heard. "The battle would appear to be starting: Dare I suggest you take advantage of the confusion to put some manner of plan into action? You, ah… you do have a plan, don't you, Sire?"

"Just the bare bones of one." Scar sighed. "I need to sneak past the others and get to Simba: I have to convince him to forgive me, somehow. And then I need him to help me convince everybody else."

"I see," said Zazu. "Well Sire, your plan appears to be entirely devoid of your usual attempts at cleverness. I approve." There was an odd glimmer in his black eyes. "You'll find the young master at the very top of the summit: The royal mjuzi ordered him there to focus on his new meditations while he deals with the hyenas. He'll, ah, rather be in need of your positive influence, I fear."

That didn't sound ominous at all. "Thank you. I think."

"Don't mention it. I'll just go and keep the queen mother focussed on the hyenas then, shall I?"

"I would appreciate that." He hesitated. "And Zazu? You're a good friend."

"I'm nothing of the sort," Zazu said as he flew away. "A friend would have given you a right walloping for what you did. I am, however, a most excellent servant." He paused briefly at the top of the hole, only his beak poking out as he spoke. "And ah, not to put too fine a point on it, Sire, but your brother did instruct the young prince to practice his pouncing on me whenever he found me annoying. Mufasa was charismatic and strong, yes – but perhaps also just a tad bit brutish?"

Having spoken those words, the beak vanished. It seemed the bird was gone.

"I still don't trust him," Zira said. Her son growled in agreement.

"We don't have a choice," said Scar. "We need to go, now." He ran for the exit, cursing silently at the fact that there were once again two sets of footsteps behind him. When he reached the opening to the outside, the sounds of battle grew louder – though fortunately they were still screams of challenge and not of dying. There was a sharp wind blowing, and it did not take him long to find its source.

Dark clouds had gathered above Pride Rock, roiling like a maelstrom the likes of which he had scarcely seen before, and underneath it all a lonely figure posed. On the very tip of the overhanging rock that had once been used for Simba's presentation, Rafiki stood whirling his staff and chanting rituals, and with each turn of his staff the wind picked up its pace. There was the sound of frightened yelps coming from below, as one after another the distant shapes of hyenas were hurled away by the winds. Sarabi and her pride charged down the entryway to chase the remainder away, but no sooner were they out of range of the storm or the Hyenas rallied again, forcing the lions back once more.

It was a perfect stand-off, one no doubt helped by the small figure that hovered above Sarabi and which never ventured far from her ear. Zazu…

"This is our chance," He whispered without turning around. "The road to the Summit is clear. We can sneak past Rafiki and make it there without a fight."

"Don't be an idiot," Zira hissed. "Our most powerful enemy has his back turned to us: This is our chance to take him out, once and for all."Next to her, Nuka nodded and grinned with savage glee.

"And if the others see us fighting him? What happens then?" He sighed. "Zira, you don't win a war by fighting every battle – you have to keep your eyes on the true objective." He stalked towards the winding path leading up to the summit without looking backwards – there was no time left to argue.

A sudden tremor sent a scattering of pebbles rolling down the path, and for a second Scar thought that Rafiki's magic had caused an earthquake, but then a blurred shape came rushing down the path and bowled him aside as only a charging warthog could. He tumbled and fell on top of Zira, and they both scrambled back onto their paws as they took in the sight arrayed before them. The Warthog and the Meerkat were once taking position along the flanks of their old enemy, as he calmly advanced towards them.

"All right," said the meerkat, whooping and cheering. "Now that's what I call a successful charge! Come on; did you guys really think you could outmanoeuvre the smartest animal in the Pridelands that easily?"

Zira snarled at the sight. "Damn it, Scar, I told you! I bloody well told you!"

The old mandrill bowed mockingly. "The king of the trash heap has returned! Have you come to steal back what's wrongfully yours, oh wasteful king?" He indicated the barren wasteland that extended all around them. "I'm surprised you still want it, considering the state you left it in."

"Rafiki," Scar said, resigning himself. "That's an odd thing for you to say, considering that your spirits were the ones who brought the drought upon us in the first place. Though now I see why you and the Kings of the Past get along so well: You're both tired old has-beens stuck protecting your rut, trying desperately to hold on to a power that belongs to the next generation."

Rafiki did not deign to answer this, instead gazing over their group before settling on Zira as if spotting her for the first time. "Is that the marking of a royal mjuzi I see? And you made her your queen and captain as well... I'm impressed, little Scar: I did not think you paid any attention to my lessons as a cub."

"You should be," Scar agreed. "I think I finally see why the position of royal mjuzi has been with the mandrills all this time. I mean, have you ever tried making a fruit paste by banging rocks together with your paws? Those disposable thumbs of yours sure must come in handy."

He frowned. "Don't you mean: Opposable thumbs?"

Scar grinned wickedly. "They won't oppose me for long."

Zira rolled her eyes. "Oh for goodness sake, enough with the wordplay! Let's just murder each other and be done with it." With those words she pounced at Rafiki, who narrowly fended her off with his staff while the boar charged straight at Scar. This time Scar managed to leap out of the way in time, and he scrambled up the cliff face where the warthog would not be able to reach him. When the boar turned to charge Zira instead, Scar leaped off the cliff and landed on top of it, savaging it with claws and teeth while it squealed and ran in circles in a vain attempt to try and shake him off. From the corner of his eye, Scar saw that Nuka was mauling the Meerkat as it desperately tried to crawl away. That just left one.

"Zira," he called, "use your powers! Don't try to fight him in melee!"

As if in reply, Rafiki slammed the butt of his staff onto the ground, and the entire group was hurled away. Scar slipped and fell onto the ground with a painful grunt, earth and dust washing over him as it choked his throat and lungs. Through a haze he saw Rafiki advance once more, parting the cloud of dust with a single brush of his hand before pointing his staff directly at them.

"Zira, use your connection to the spirits! Stop him before he calls upon the winds again!"

"I don't know how! And I don't have any spirits to call on, remember?"

The clouds above them roiled and twisted, and with a turn of his staff Rafiki sent a tempest crashing into them. The two lions flew backwards, rolling along with the gale and impacting the cliff face with a painful crunch. The mountain shuddered, and several boulders came crashing down in front of them. Scar and Zira rushed behind them, hoping to use them as shelter from the storm.

"Zira, listen to me! Remember Nuka's admission, and Simba's vision? It was all a lie; they were only saying what they thought to be true, not what's actually real." Scar ducked his head low as the storm intensified and several stone fragments hurled overhead to strike the cliff face behind them.

"It feels real enough to me!"

"Yes," Scar shouted, trying to make himself heard over the storm, "but it's not really coming from his staff! The power comes from within, Zira." He ignored her vexed expression. "Look, the point is: Spirits might be stronger for their lack of flesh to weigh them down, but they're ultimately still just animals with the will to keep themselves together after death. And that means there's no reason why you can't use the same power!"

Zira glared at him. "Well what about you, then? You're the one with the actual training! If I don't need any spirits, why should you?"

Finally the wind slowed down a little, just long enough for them to stare at each other in relative silence.

"Together," Scar said, and Zira nodded in response. He closed his eyes in search of a connection, and this time he felt a second spiritual presence responding in kind. The two snapped together like a tether, drawing on each other and growing more powerful as each cord wound around the other to form a single, sturdier bond. The spiritual pressure built up inside of him until it could be contained no longer.

The two lions leaped over the rocks and roared in conjunction, the raw wind pouring from their mouths like a hurricane. Rafiki dropped his staff in a panic as he desperately raised his own storm to counter it. The two forces clashed in the centre, wind pushing against wind and forming a tornado between them until it all blew apart in a single eruption of force. The entire group was tossed aside, and Scar was once more hurled through the sky, landing hard onto the rocky ground. Through his pained and blurry vision, he saw that the warthog and meerkat were fleeing down the entryway, clearly having had enough.

Scar laughed despite himself, chuckling through the pain in his chest. "There go your friends, Rafiki. Looks like you're all alone again. First Mufasa, now them – it seems you just can't catch a break."

"I'm never alone," said the mandrill, though something in his voice had shifted. "Never. The spirits themselves are with me. The kings of the past are my guide, and I am their humble vessel."

"Their pawn, you mean." Zira gave a contemptuous snort. "Do those Spirit Kings of yours even talk back to you, or do you just sort of mumble to yourself in the vain hope that someone is listening?"

"I've heard their whispers in my dreams ever since I was a child," Rafiki said softly. "And then whenever I awoke, I'd imagine what it would mean to one day have their ear as well." He worked his jaw a second longer, and then raised a trembling finger at Scar. "Everything I ever wanted, you were born with – and you had the temerity to complain about it. To whine, as if being a prince with divine power made you a victim. You threw it all away for nothing, and then instead of making amends you tried to steal my power to replace your own. And when all of that failed, you murdered your own brother – my closest friend and our rightful king – purely out of spite."

"And I have regretted it ever since." Scar's muscles ached and he longed to shift position, but he bit through the pain and stood his ground. "I was going to go up the summit and beg his son for forgiveness, actually. What did you do?" He regarded the stubborn and bitter look in the old mandrill's eyes, which seemed so familiar as to be painful. "Let me guess: You begged the Kings of the Past to reveal my true nature? And so they sent a drought to the Pridelands, in the hopes of turning the lionesses against me – but when Sarabi and the others refused to abandon me they doubled down, so that in the end you almost destroyed your own country and your own people… purely out of spite?"

Rafiki shook his head in disbelief. "I am nothing like you, Asura. Do you think you can manipulate me as easily as you did the others? You are a murderer, a liar and a thief, and your fair Zira is a bloodthirsty monster. You are both creatures of evil, and I will destroy you. That is all there is to it."

Old resentment flared anew at the casual judgment of his character, but though it left a bitter taste in his mouth it no longer had the impact it once did. "You're right," he said. "Perhaps I am evil. Do you think that excuses your actions? That it makes you any less a pawn of a hateful legacy?" He returned Rafiki's sardonic look with one of his own. "Hey, I have an idea. Why don't you call off that storm of yours so the lionesses down there can hear us fight? I'm sure you could beat us without much difficulty if you had their help."

Rafiki stared at him, and said nothing.

"Oh, but you can't, can you? Are your beloved spirit kings having too much fun with the hyenas?" He idly picked up the staff that Rafiki had dropped and tossed it aside. "You know, I used to think that Zazu was pathetic, but at least he's aware of his role in life. And that makes all the difference, doesn't it? You're more like Nuka: A sad, pathetic creature desperately trying to garner favour from uncaring masters. No offense, Nuka." He glanced behind him, but found only Zira standing there. Perhaps the boy had gone off to chase the boar and the meerkat – it was not as if he would even lose to them, at this point.

"A pawn, am I?" Rafiki was baring his teeth again, in the way that you only saw in cornered animals. He started to raise his arms to the sky, but stopped halfway, choosing instead to hang them loosely by his sides. "You are correct. I am a pawn of the gods! I am the whisper of their wind; I am the thunder to their lightning; I am the flickering of their flames – and you, my friend, you are ash!"

There was a clap of thunder as arcs of blinding light flashed across the blackened clouds above, and Scar cursed under his breath. "Zira! Quick, stop him before he–"

"I'll do it!" Nuka leaped down from the cliff and landed on Rafiki's back, who screamed as claws and teeth dug into his unprotected flesh. Lightning crackled through the air as it arched uncontrollably all around them, darting in impossible directions. "Are you watching, father? I'm doing it for you – and I'm doing it for me!" There was a crack and a flash of blinding light, and the ground shook as the earth beneath Rafiki and Nuka was torn apart and they hurled down the cliff in a blazing ball of white-hot fire.

"Nuka!" Zira raced after them, but they were gone, vanished down the cliff's edge. The flaming rubble had struck the surface at the base of the cliff, and the fire was now spreading to the nearest trees, the dried out timber burning like matchwood. The forlorn body of a lion cub lay in the centre of the flames.

"Bring him back," she said, turning to Scar. "Use your roar – do something!"

"I – I can't," said Scar, staring weakly at the sight. "Zira… he's gone."

She snarled at him with a bloody fury, and he shrank back in terror. "You worthless, pathetic excuse for a man! Fine then, I'll do it myself!" She plucked the discarded staff off the ground with her teeth, and without any further warning leaped off the cliff's edge and into the fire below. Scar watched in horror as her body crashed into the wreckage next to her son and was consumed by the blazing fire. A red mist spread to cover them both as the flames ignited the staff's crimson fruits.

Zira... what have you done?

Distantly, from out of a corner of his eye, Scar noticed a hairy hand grasping the cliff's ledge. Then another followed. Slowly, almost casually, Rafiki clambered back onto the cliff and dusted himself off, somewhat singed and with an awful smell wafting off his smoking beard, but seeming otherwise unhurt.

He idly followed Scar's gaze towards the burning wreckage below. "And there goes fairest Zira," he said, sounding almost regretful. "All her life she was driven by madness, and in the end, madness drove her down a cliff." He idly patted down his smoking beard. "I wish I could say I knew her well, but ah… let's just say that I knew her better than I would have liked."

"Rafiki," Scar said slowly," there are no words for how dead you are."

"Oho," said Rafiki, unimpressed. "Well then, here's to the fight between the two smartest animals in the Pridelands: The royal mjuzi and the captain of the Lion Guard. A duel pitting magic against magic, power against power, will against–" He trailed off as he noticed the red smoke rising ever higher, growing largerand thicker by the second. The smoke formed a crimson cloud and then– "What in the blazes?"

The cloud had formed into the shape of a face, the way Scar had only seen once before during Simba's vision, and which he had told himself he had only imagined. The ghostly visage did not rise up into the sky, however, but remained there: Waiting.

In its mouth there was a second, smaller cloud, looking terribly lost and fragile. It was a lion's cub.

The connection snapped into place, this time so much stronger than before, as Scar felt the presence of not two spirits but one. It was ready, waiting, needing only the command that they both already knew.

"Zira," Scar whispered. "Bathe my enemies in fire."

The cloud gathered and fell upon Rafiki, red mist choking his lungs as it scorched him with its infernal heat. He flailed and screamed in terror, drawing in more of the smoke with every frightened shriek while the mist grew ever darker. At last flames erupted and engulfed him, his flesh alight as the crimson fire consumed him whole. As the last of his screams died out and perished with the remnants of the storm, only a blackened husk remained, adding a second darker smog to mingle with the first.

Scar advanced on the smoking husk, and after only a moment's hesitation, inhaled deeply.

Above him, Simba waited.