The council of cats closed in a tight circle around them.

Ramses stood up, tall and regal, the sun at his back, glistening on his fur as he began to chant:

“For troubled shores now thee leave

Man’s imperfections to receive

With mortals weakened, faulty shell

So shall ye among them dwell”

Ramses paw shot out rigidly in front of him.

Akasha was gone, leaving a wisp of blue smoke floating in the spot she had inhabited only moments before.