This was a tradition that would not go overlooked. Seven days had passed, seven days of mourning the fallen soldiers. The pride could not allow itself to mourn longer. The world had been shattered and changed in but the span of a few days. Their Queen still clung to her life, but her hold on it was precarious. The Heir had been taken, and the Outlands' pride shattered. For now, their minds had been turned away from death and back towards the living.
None knew of the chaos the wrecked the haven, nor the precarious position the souls of the dead were placed in. No longer was there a place to rest, no gate to hide behind or be held back within. Without a body, there was no tether to the world. It was the beautiful thing about the Circle of Life, it was finite and infinite. Energy constantly flowed from one life to the next in a cycle that was perfect and unending. If that was the only way life and afterlife worked, it would have been beautiful and simplistic.
She wanted it to end.
To understand was to exist, but she did not understand and she was not sure she existed. There was no form to her body. A tangible shape to remember was so far out of reach that if her...
Her...
Words were too difficult to grasp, meaning was too much to demand from an existence such as herself. So, she floated for forever. Float, because to do anything else would claim a purpose that she no longer had. Time was a construct that could not be grasped by a soul, for it felt like forever and felt like nothing altogether. How long that one soul floated without change was indeterminate.
That changed, though she did not know when and not necessarily how. All that time, she had clung onto that... that something, that 'she'. It was a beacon, not only for herself but to another. What it was and what she would be could not so clearly defined. It yearned to be nothing, while she could not yearn at all. She could not even see nor feel it as it coiled around her like a serpent.
When she first felt, it was tired. So tired, as if the burden of time had finally become too much to shoulder. It crushed her, and she realized suddenly the weight of every emotion and memory she had nearly lost. Every piece of herself that she recovered made her more heavy until she fell. At least, it was what she thought she endured. Visions of her life swirled around her in a frenzied current, chasing away the nonexistence and reminding her who she was.
She awoke screaming.
Pain tore through her body, her muscles convulsing violently as she seized over the cold ground. Puffs of red dirt billowed into the air around her as her body recovered from the grip of death. Her flesh had been picked at by carrion-eaters, and upon her tongue she tasted that death. She coughed, and from her maw spewed insects that had worked into her. The sudden invigoration of life healed the wounds that had killed her, sealing vicious gauges that had scarred her flesh. Flesh sewed itself back together, hiding muscles and bones.
Only when she was whole did she remember who she was. Katiti'manina, the Monarch's Soul... no, the soul of the pride. Her vanity and her pride returned to her swiftly, but none was quicker than the anger. A roar would be heard through the entirety of the Ukuhlwa'Izwe, resonating against stone and shaking the ground underneath its source. Her expression was twisted with pain and disgust, but she was in no position to digest those feelings. She just was, and she knew that she should not be.
There was more to her being now, and she took to the extension of herself as easily as she breathed. White winged with stained black tips spread out over her shoulders, and she arched into the air as swiftly as one of her ravens would. Kat took to the skies, abandoning her resting place and returning home. In that moment, she could not comprehend the meaning her revival would hold. If she had, perhaps she would have made a more subtle entrance. But subtly had been her mortal game, and she did not feel like playing it now.
She took no care to remember the feeling of her first flight, of the wind whipping through her fur and lifting her up. Katiti'manina was a creature of limited patience, and she had somewhere to be. The Monarch's Soul landed in the heart of the pride with a heavy thud. With a glance to her side, she could see the horrified faces of the Ukuhlwa'Izwe. Lions visibly blanched at the sight of her, a lioness who had died and been mourned could not possibly become undead.
Kat did not have time for this. She would not explain herself, nor ease these lions into understanding how she had come to be. "Where is my Queen?" Her voice was soft, but cold. The words were spoken with such crispness that there would be no mistaking what she spoke. Yet, no one answered her... and she grew impatient. "WHERE is Ashiki?"
A lioness nearby cautiously stepped forward. Ah, one of her's, though one she had considered a bit weak-willed. Perhaps she had been wrong, since none other came forward to speak with her. "She is... unwell and you are not well either. I do not think it wise for you to see her just yet." The words were spoken with caution, but it would do little to stem the tide of anger that rolled through Kat. She wanted to scream and she wanted to lash out at all who stood in her way. Raw emotion boiled underneath her skin until she could no longer hold herself together.
She screamed, and the vision of her twisted as the memory of herself threatened to give way to pure feeling. In an explosion of debris, her image dissipated, and for a moment she was gone. All that had stood around the scene had been unaffected by the 'debris', but were too stunned to make heads or tails of what happened. They were not given time to recover before Kat returned, abandoning the skin of her godhood to instead wear her mortal guise.
She was not so gifted in this. Flying had been easier, and disappearing to elsewhere had likewise been grasped swiftly. Holding this illusion was difficult, but she would if it allowed her to receive what she desired. Her blue eyes landed once again on the lioness, "I can see her now."
"I do not think this is wise..." the pale lioness protested softly.
"You cannot stop me - I need to see her."
There was no diplomacy, and as if sensing that Kat would not budge, Ruka'sabili wilted in front of her. "Follow me..."