The warrior hefted his shield higher and continued walking. The road uphill was treacherous and the nothingness behind him gaped open as the winds howled around him.

But he wouldn’t yield; he had traveled a long way from his empire, had slain dragons and saved many ladies in need. As if he could see their tears in their rose-colored cheeks before him, the warrior smiled grimly. A hero’s quest never ends.

And that was why he was climbing now. A quest was given to him; to slay the priestess who resided in the top of the mountain. The Emperor and the scholars who had summoned him spoke of a crone of a woman, whose powers had turned the mountain barren and that the children born into the villages close to her, under the full moon, bore curious shaped stripes on their backs.

Like the ones of a tiger’s.

Creatures extinct long before the warrior’s time, they were considered mythical, imbued with powers that were close to the ones of the gods. Protectors of the stars, keepers of spirits, it was told that they had sacrificed their powers in order to save humanity from the Rebellion of the Dragon, when Dragons romanced free and were destroying everything in their path.

The scholars had told the warrior that the last Tiger King had locked away the celestial creatures, giving to the humans the freedom to populate the earth, and for the Empire to rise.

But the warrior cares not for the mumblings of bent men, who spent more time in their dusty tomes than in perceiving earthly pleasures. Their knowledge though was precious and the talismans he was given, just in case, were part of the warrior’s arsenal.

He heaved a sigh, pulled higher the hood of his red cape and continued walking. His armor, polished with no creaks felt heavy, the pack on his back enormous. But his eyes, dark pools were focused on the road ahead.

After an eternity to the warrior’s senses, he finally reached the top of the road. The path ahead narrowed suddenly as thick masses of trees branched upwards, covering the sky and stopping most of the winds cruel cold. He exhaled, thankful for the shield of the forest and walked faster.

It was dark, yet the illumination of the magic stones embed on the hero’s shield helped him navigate through the greenery. When the foliage became thicker his sword slashed through the echo of it making him feel unsettled. It was quiet…too quiet.

“Are you lost?”

The warrior spun, his sword drawn, shield raised up. He stared at the woman, who looked at him with equal curiosity. She looked young, maybe ten years younger than him, with skin luminous like the moon and hair dark blue, almost black cascading down to her middle. Her coat was a peculiar color of grey and red, the colors seemed to swirl as she slowly moved towards him.

“What are you doing up here?” the warrior asked, looking at her, then around them. “This is no place for a woman.”

“Isn’t it?” the woman tilted her head looking at him. “I happen to find forests like this one wonderful companion to my…explorations.”

The warrior lowered his sword and stared at her. Was she from the village down to the floor of the mountain? And why was she here, where the crone too could make a kill out of her? “My lady you need to leave.”

She hefted her coat closer to her. “No, I don’t. In fact, why don’t you come with me? My home is not far.” She looked up and down. “And you need some rest too.”

The warrior’s eyes narrowed. And a thought, slithering and suspicious made him smile at the woman. “Thank you for the offer, my lady. Please lead the way.”

He sheathed his sword and followed the woman. The forest was quiet as they walked, no sounds of life, or birds and the earlier windstorm felt as if it had never passed from the warrior’s mind. He watched the woman as she walked unhurriedly in front of him. She could have been a great addition to his conquests…if she wasn’t the crone.

In many of his adventures, he had encountered adversaries shaped like men and women, asking for ‘help’ and then trying to kill him. But he wouldn’t act if the woman was truly an innocent. In that case, …he could still take her to his bed, grateful after a hard adventure on the mountain.

The woman’s house came into view. It was a small one with a sloped roof and dark wooden walls; a garden to the front and even a well to their right. Behind the house it seemed that a chasm opened with the moon shining brightly, casting the trees’ shadow towards the house.

The woman opened the door and beckoned him inside. She shed her coat, revealing a white dress, with blue colors in intricate swirls around her middle and breasts. Her hands moved with precision as she put a kettle on the stove and poured water into it.

“Sit warrior. Dine with me and tell me of your adventures.” Her voice was soft, like a caress.

The warrior took a slow look around the one room house. A bed to his right on the corner. The stove and hearth to his left and right in front of him, rugs and a low table where bright colored pillows were stacked in order. He unbuckled his cape, let his pack down and sat on one of the pillows, keeping carefully the sword close. The woman brought tea and hard bread, cheese and dried fruit and sat across from him. As the warrior ate he kept in mind the enchantments he wore under his armor. If there was poison they would chime and then he’d have his answer. As he ate the woman smiled at him and asked about his quest.

He told her about the signs on the babies’ bodies, about the crone and about the tigers. The woman asked him about his other quests and the warrior, with a hint of pride, spoke of slayers and princesses, monsters and evil sorcerers.

Yet the woman didn’t answer his questions but sipped from her tea, her eyes dark like obsidian watching him.

“And the monsters warrior? Where they as monstrous as you claimed them to be?” She asked.

“They held men and women prisoners. Their families paid handsomely for their safe return.” The warrior frowned.

“But was that the truth?”

“The truth?”

Around him, the house groaned and the woman’s hair started to float around her shoulders, writhing swirling like snakes. The warrior jumped pulled his sword and stared at her. “I knew you were the crone!”

“Ah but your other option was even better…wasn’t it? A young maiden to bed and then abandon, satisfied in the power of your manhood and masculinity. Yet you never truly looked.” Her hand pointed at him and a flash made the warrior scream.

His eyes burned as every color of his vision washed away from the intense white the woman’s power had sparked. And then…images appeared.

A young woman hugging tightly a man. The man turning to the form of a peacock green dragon and flying away with her.

A man kissing a male merfolk, the two of them diving under the sea.

A female crane shifter, her wings draped gently on a human woman’s arms.

He knew those faces. They were his quests. The warrior screamed.

“You saw but you never truly understood them. They were never quests, nor tales of capture. They were free and full of life and love. And yet the humans will know the stories of the winners and that’s why I mark their offspring.” The woman’s voice was thunderous and ancient.

The warrior blinked and opened his eyes again.

He stood alone on the edge of the chasm.

The house was gone.

And before him, a huge tiger stared down at him, a giant with dark shining stripes, the coats bright orange as if liquid fire resided in his being.

And the woman? She cradled the tiger’s head, leaning against him, as gigantic as the tiger beside her. A crown of polished wood and stardust crowned her head and her eyes stared at the warrior with pity and contempt.

“You speak of the tigers long gone. Yet you have forgotten that it was the humans who sealed the old gods away and hunted down the Tiger clan for their powers and longevity. And when you were done butchering my mate’s kind, you fashioned yourselves the successors of the new world.”

The woman stroke the tiger’s head.

The tiger’s mouth opened, long sharp teeth gaping, eyes filled with fury.

The warrior knelt, weapons forgotten, tiny in front of the deities he gazed at.

“So I mark the babies with the memories of the Tiger Clan. They will know their true story and they will bring back the true worship of the Four Cardinal Deities. The Dragon, the Turtle, the Pheonix and the Tiger will restore the balance. And you,” she pointed a long slender finger towards the warrior, “will live to see it all.”

The warrior shook his head. “Mercy my lady.”

The tiger roared at him and the woman grinned maliciously.

“Why? You showed no mercy when you slew the mates. No mercy when you took some of the survivors to your bed, saying that you did it for ‘their own good’. Or are you going to deny that fact too?”

The warrior cried and begged, his posture that of a man kneeling before his gods, hands clasped in front of his head, his head bowed.

“What do you say my love?” the woman asked.

The tiger purred at her and lifted its head towards the sky. The Moon showed full and shiny and then, stripes appeared on its surface. The stripes swirled for a moment, then flew towards the warrior, who screamed as darkness enveloped him.

And then-

Nothingness.

----------------------------

The people of the village saw the tiny tiger cub running away from the foot of the mountain. Many tried to catch it and sell its parts for their rarity. But they couldn’t find it no matter where they searched.

The Emperor deemed that the warrior had failed and that the cub was a sign from the gods. So he sent a mission who found the tiger cub and brought it to him. It grew in a gilded cage, with ruby collars and food offered in a plate. It became a sign of prospering, as many thought the crone defeated.

Years later, the children of the Stripe Moon appeared. Men and women, warriors of power and might they slew the Emperor and opened the hidden gates to the world of the Gods. Their skin held tiger stripes and their eyes shone like citrite under the sun.

Magic fed the land and restored the balance. And the warrior who had become a tiger was sacrificed to the great Tiger of the four Cardinal Gods, who at that night stood with his wife under a full moon.