“Then we don’t reach it.” Lion-O turned to Cheetara. “You remember the old tunnels. The ones the First Ones carved under the desert.”
“Don’t look at the walls,” Cheetara hissed. “Look only at my feet.” thundercats
Lion-O stood. “Bengali’s right. We can’t wait. But not the caravan.” He drew the Sword of Omens, and the Eye flickered, just once, casting a weak beam across the cave wall—an image of a tower, slender as a needle, rising from the Crystal Desert. “Mumm-Ra’s personal spire. His power vaults are there. He’s been pulling energy from the Plundered Sun—siphoning it. If we break the siphon, the sun returns. His tower-ships fall. Third Earth breathes.” “Then we don’t reach it