The wind raider soared through the Eternian skies with He-Man at the controls. Beside him sat Orko and Greystar, behind them, Duncan, Gwildor and Weldon. Below, Teela and Ror followed in the battle ram.

“You said you’d explain everything on the way,” He-Man prodded Greystar.

“Yes, there’s a lot you need to know,” the stranger replied. “Ever hear of the Power Stones?”

Gwildor scratched his chin. “I remember an old legend about those; they were mined from the same quarry as the stones used to build Grayskull, if the stories are true.”

“They are,” Greystar continued. “They were created several centuries prior to the castle’s construction by the Ancients to regulate the flow of magics on the three worlds.”

“The ‘three worlds’?” Duncan asked.

Greystar turned back to face Duncan. “Everything you’ve figured out so far is right on target. Eternia’s magic is being drained, and it’s raising havoc with the planet. But it’s more far reaching than you think. The same thing is happening on two other planets, Etheria and Earth. You’re familiar with them?”

Duncan answered, “Yes, we know of both worlds. How are they connected to this?”

“All three worlds share a bond you’ve only started to discover; they’ve been connected in one way or another for centuries. I don’t have time to go into those particulars right now, but all three worlds are facing the same threat.” He held out his hands, pretending to hold something. “And its because of something about this big. Three somethings, in fact. The Power Stones. One for each planet”

“So your saying the Ancients were on all three worlds?” He-Man asked, surprised.

“The First Ones of Etheria, the Ancients of Eternia, and the myriad old gods of the Earth; all one and the same. They watched over all three worlds, keeping forces in balance.” Greystar still “held” the imaginary stone. “Something this small kept the magical forces under control on the three planets.”

“Why would magic need to be controlled? We were just saying it’s a part of the natural forces.” Teela’s voice came over the raider’s radio.

Greystar looked at He-Man suspiciously. “Had the radio on all this time?”

He-Man returned the gaze. “Any reason I shouldn’t?”

“Not a one,” Greystar looked over the side of the raider at the battle ram below. “Saves me going through this twice. You see, these three worlds are unusual. Magic is stronger on them than on practically any other world the Ancients had encountered. So strong, in fact, they were afraid the magics would start disrupting the natural laws, so they created the stones to act as a sort of mystical ‘surge protector’. If the magics got out of hand, the stones would automatically absorb any excess power until equilibrium was re-established.”

“What happens to that excess magic?” Orko asked.

“It gets channeled through an internal dimensional gate into a another plane of existence. The place absorbs magic like crazy; unlike here, it apparently can never overload on mystical energy.”

“Weird place,” Weldon added. “We were there once.” He looked at Orko. “Matter of fact, there were a few creatures there who looked a lot like you.”

“Hey, who are you calling a creature?!!” Orko popped up and floated high above the seat, and was almost ripped from the raider by the slip stream as a result. He-Man grabbed him quickly and plopped him unceremoniously back in the vehicle. In the back seat, Duncan rolled his eyes.

“Sounds like the same dimension Orko’s homeworld, Trolla, is in,” Gwildor said.

“Quite possibly.” Greystar continued. “Anyway, the stones were placed at locations on each world where the forces of the planet were strong. You’d call them a magical nexus; on Earth, I believe they’re called Ley Lines. As time went on, people pretty much forgot about them, which wasn’t such a bad thing; they didn’t really need any kind of maintenance, they’re indestructible, and even seismic activity wouldn’t really affect their functioning. If they got moved from their original location, they’d still work well enough to do the job. And it kept anyone from using them for another purpose.”

“The purpose someone is using them for now?” Duncan injected.

“Exactly. The stones can be used to absorb power from the planets and channel it into something or someone rather than the other dimension.” Greystar explained. “A few tried, but no one was skilled enough in magic to be able to control the stones except the Ancients. Until one particular sorcerer came along, and almost succeeded.”

Duncan stroked his mustache. “King Hiss,” he concluded, and glanced at Weldon. “‘We’re going to see a snake about some stones.’”

“Hiss,” Greystar confirmed. “He almost succeeded, at least according to my sources. He was stopped just in time by a sorcerer named He-Ro.”

“I thought He-Ro was just a legend, too,” Orko said.

“No, He-Ro was real, alright,” He-Man corrected. “He was one of Pre-Eternia’s greatest protectors, not to mention the father of Grayskull.”

“Legends have a way of exaggerating things, He-Man; don’t always take them at face value,” Greystar cautioned. “Anyway, it seems that Hiss is in possession of the stones again, and is picking up where he left off.”

“How did you find out about it?” He-Man asked.

“I found out about the disturbances, checked some sources, figured out it had to be the stones, and concluded Hiss would be about the only one around now who would know how to pull this off. Some more checking around, and I was able to locate him.”

“Nice piece of detective work,” Teela offered over the radio. “Who exactly were these ‘sources’?”

Greystar grimaced and glanced over at He-Man. “She’s going to be a hard sell, isn’t she?”

He-Man smiled. “I’d count on it.”

“Reliable sources, believe me. Who isn’t the important thing.” Greystar heard no reply from Teela, and let out a small sigh. “Anyway, Hiss has evidently been using the stones to drain the magical energy from the three worlds into himself, causing the troubles you’ve noticed. That’s what we have to stop. The problems with physics will be nothing compared to Hiss with that much power.”

Duncan shook his head slowly. “He’d disrupt the forces of nature itself to gain power. Unbeleivable.”

“That’s why he’s the bad guy,” Weldon quipped.

“But if he’s been drawing on the power for over a week now, won’t he already be too strong to stop?” Gwildor wondered.

Greystar shook his head. “Stronger, yes, but not unstoppable. Not yet. It takes a while to draw off the energy; taking it from the planets too fast would destroy them completely. Hiss would only get a limited, one time boost in power. He’d never settle for that.”

“Um, even so, if Hiss is more powerful now, are we enough to stop him?” Orko asked hesitantly.

“I already called the palace for back-up,” Teela said. “Fisto, Ram Man and Man-E-Faces are on the way. They’ll meet us at the coordinates Greystar gave He-Man.”

Called for back-up before she knew the situation needed it, Greystar thought. I’ve got a long way to go with her.

*******************************************************

Asleep in his chambers, King Hiss dreamed.

He stood before the three glowing orbs, his voice chanting softly in a language long dead. His face contorted into a wicked smile as he finished his preparations; in a few moments, he would begin the spell that would give him three worlds. He strode over to his throne in the center of the room, a strange, twisted pile of sculpted snakes and skulls. A huge stone Cobra head hung over the top, casting a long shadow over the seat. Hiss liked the effect when he sat upon the throne, his body half hidden by darkness; it was especially chilling when he used that small spell to make his eyes glow. Even his beloved Pythonia couldn’t quell a slight shiver when she faced him there. He sat down, his gaze fixed again on the three stones hovering in mid-air, pulsing with energies that would soon be his. He was feeling almost giddy at the thought, but realized he must face the stones with a clear, calm mind, for one mistake could cause a cataclysm that made even him cringe. There would be no mistakes, though; his minions would prevent any interruptions, and King Hiss did not make errors in things of magic.

He rose from the throne, unable to wait any longer. He walked back to the stones, gingerly touching each, feeling the power with each stroke of his fingers.

That’s when the wall exploded.

Hiss turned, and ducked just in time to avoid a large chunk of stone. His eyes narrowed to slits, and his teeth gnashed together in a vicious snarl. The huge hole in his west wall was still spewing small fragments through a cloud of dust; a tall figure stood silhouetted, his features as yet indistinguishable. It didn’t matter; Hiss didn’t need to see him clearly.

“He-Ro.” Hiss spat out the name like an obscenity.

He-Ro stepped through the settling dust, his long brown hair blowing slightly in the newly introduced breeze through Hiss’s throne room. Even in the subdued light, his golden chest armor glinted as he raised his scepter. Fiery brown eyes locked on Hiss.

“Do you ever bloody knock?!!” Hiss growled.

“If you count Rattlor and Tung Lashor’s heads, yes,” He-Ro quipped. His gaze shifted from Hiss to the stones, and his muscles tensed.

Hiss lunged and placed himself between his enemy and the stones. He muttered something indecipherable, and his hand burst into green flame. A second later, he threw his arm forward, and the flames shot at He-Ro. He-Ro grabbed his flowing red cape, and pulled it around him. The cape shimmered as the flames hit and dissipated. Hiss began hurling bolts of flame from both hands in a quick barrage. He-Ro flipped his cape back and extended his left hand. The first of the volleys stopped dead, burning a few inches from him. The following blasts met up with the first, until a huge ball of flame hovered in front of the sorcerer. He-Ro smiled, and the flames suddenly shot back at Hiss. Instinctively, he ducked, momentarily forgetting the precious stones behind him. As he realized his error, he looked back in horror as the flames approached the floating orbs, only to burst into a puff of smoke less than an inch from the first stone. Hiss leapt to his feet, but the stones were already in motion, pushed out of alignment by the force of the bursting flame.

The King of the Snake Men bolted for the stones as he heard He-Ro shout, “Now!” The next thing he knew, Hiss was tumbling over as the whole structure shook. He looked up to see the roof being pulled off in the far corner of the room, and huge fingers as thick as his arms grasping it. Then the piece ripped free, and went flying through the air, and a huge face framed by flowing blonde hair peered in. The giant, Tytus, smiled down at him.

Hiss’ jaw dropped in shock, and he once again forget the stones for an instant. He-Ro quickly grabbed the opportunity, and the stones, before his enemy could gather his wits. Hiss turned just in time to see the mystical objects disappear into He-Ro’s cape. Furious, he let loose a guttural roar, and charged the wizard; he had gotten three steps before the huge digits that had demolished his roof closed around him. The next thing he knew, he was hurtling toward the far wall. Too rattled to concentrate and summon his magic, he struck the wall with a sickening thud, and crumpled to the floor, half-conscious.

“It actually worked.” Tytus booming voice echoed in the large chamber.

“You doubted me?” He-Ro chided his large friend.

Tytus didn’t answer; he just raised an eyebrow.

Another figure appeared beyond the huge hole in the wall, garbed in a tunic and hood. As he stepped carefully through the gaping aperture, he shook his head slowly. “I can see that we need to have that little talk about subtlety again, don’t we?”

He-Ro looked up at his mentor, Eldor, and smiled. “Subtlety wouldn’t have kept Hiss off balance like this. He’s down, and we have the stones back No problem.”

Eldor “harrumphed” loudly, and looked up at Tytus. “And you encourage him.” A look of mock shame crossed the giant’s face. “Am I guiding heroes or a demolition crew?”

“I think we’ve proven we can do both at the same time,” Tytus replied, unable to hold back a grin.

Eldor threw up his arms, muttered, and turned to Hiss. “Now what to do with him?”

“Tytus hasn’t eaten since breakfast…” He-Ro said, knowing Hiss was awake enough to hear.

“Snake tastes just like Turbodactyl meat,” Tytus added, smacking his lips.

Eldor looked at both, eyes narrowed. “Are you two quite finished?” he said impatiently.

He-Ro chuckled, and raised his hand. “Have a counter-magic containment spell already set.”

A few words, and Hiss found himself contained in a wavering field of energy; he managed to compose himself enough to fire a blast of magic at the mystic prison, but it dissipated as soon as it touched the field. He snarled something in the snake people’s tongue, and glowered at He-Ro. Then he heard a low voice in his ear. “Master?”

Hiss awoke with a start, grabbing the arm that gently rocked his shoulder. He turned and looked up into a strangely exotic but beautiful face.

“My Lord?” she said softly. “You commanded me to wake you two hours before moonrise.”

He nodded gently and squeezed her arm. “Pythonia. Yes, my love. You serve me well.”

“Always,” she beamed.

Hiss rose quickly, and donned his armored suit. He tried to push the dream from his mind; he and He-Ro were rank amateurs the first time he had the stones; they had met only a few times previously, and were still new to their respective roles in the battle of good and evil. But Hiss was an amateur no longer; he was one of the most powerful sorcerers on the planet. He-Ro was long gone, along with his allies. He had only He-Man and his friends to fret about, and they would fall to him soon enough.

He motioned for Pythonia to follow him, and started down the corridor to his throne room.

And, he thought with a twisted grin, my destiny.

************************************************

Skeletor peered into the orb atop his Havoc Staff intently, pondering what he had seen. The heroes assembling at Grayskull was enough to pique his interest; the two strangers he had seen, though, had truly aroused his curiosity. He was certain he had never laid eyes on them before, but there was something about them that disturbed him. He was sure from their course they were heading for Hiss’ new secret lair (He laughed at the thought; a “secret lair” known to himself and now apparently the warriors of Eternos). He scratched his fleshless chin, and sat back on his throne of deformed bones. Spying on He-Man and his friends was nothing new, nor was the strange interference he encountered when focusing on He-Man; something in the magics of Grayskull blocked him at times, and he had to piece things together from what he was able to see on most occasions. This time, however, there was something else blocking him, allowing only fuzzy images save for a few clear moments. Fortunately, one of those moments allowed him a good look at the two newcomers, though it told him little about who they were.

He rose from the throne and began to pace. Many odd things had been happening the past week; strange weather formations were becoming more common, certain well-used spells were suddenly unreliable, and inexplicable mechanical failures. He was beginning to suspect something was afoot, and the “reception” problems just now confirmed it. He didn’t need the heroes’ course to tell him it was Hiss; he could smell the slithering blackguard’s hand in this. Without breaking stride, he raised his staff once more, and tried to focus in on the royal palace. What he saw was a snowy, gray blob. “Blasted interference!” he snarled, slapping the top of the staff several times. He concentrated, and the image cleared enough for him to see an attack trak speeding away from the palace, heading in the same direction as He-Man and his cronies. “So, they called for re-enforcements, eh?” he thought aloud. “Hiss, what have you been up to?”

Skeletor stopped suddenly. Without turning, he said in an exasperated voice, “Ninjor, I thought I had made it clear I would tolerate no more of your sneaking about my throne room.”

Directly behind him, a black-garbed figure dropped from the shadows above. Ninjor landed without a sound, and sat, crouched on the balls of his feet. “I beg your forgiveness, Master. I meant no disrespect; I simply did not wish to interrupt. You were obviously deep in thought.”

Skeletor, still with his back to Ninjor, spoke in measured tones. “When I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed. To the letter. Without question.”

Ninjor did not move. “I am sorry, my lord. I came with important news, and did not think. I would never deliberately disobey you.”

I’m sure, Skeletor thought. “Then tell me this vital news.”

“Evil Lynn has detected strong magics on the outskirts of the Evergreen Forest. She is not sure what it means…”

Skeletor cut him off. “Then Evil Lynn will check it out.” He finally turned to face Ninjor. “As for your little transgression here…”

“It will not happen again, master,” Ninjor assured him.

“No, it will not.” Skeletor raised his staff, and pointed it at Ninjor. The ram’s headpiece began to glow and suddenly a bright flash of energy shot across the room. Ninjor stood transfixed; dodging the beam would do no good. He knew if it were meant for him, it would follow no matter what he did. He closed his eyes, and lowered his head. The blast scorched the floor an inch from his feet. He swallowed hard, and tried to regain his normally stoic composure. “Go with Evil Lynn,” Skeletor commanded. “Take Trap-Jaw, Blade, and the fuzz ball with you. Find out what’s going on, and report back to me.” Skeletor strode out of the throne room; the rhythmic sound of his staff striking the floor as he left echoed through the corridor long after he was out of sight.

Ninjor finally released the breath he had unconsciously been holding. He took off his hood, wiped the sweat from his brow, and silently returned to the shadows.

In his quarters in the bowels of Snake Mountain, Blade sat on the hard cot, and carefully cleaned the blade of his sword. The gleam of the polished steel and his gentle touch as he moved the soft cloth slowly across it seemed somewhat out of place in the dank, harsh quarters. He wiped one final smudge near the hilt, and held the sword before him, smiling. “There we are, my lovely,” he said softly.

“Ya’ know, you really need to get a girlfriend,” an irritating raspy voice remarked.

Blade looked up at Trap Jaw, leaning against the oddly shaped entrance to the room (there were no actual doors inside Snake Mountain, save for the few private chambers reserved for Skeletor and Evil Lynn, and the dungeons). Glaring at the cyborg, Blade snarled, “Are you here for any other reason than to annoy me?”

Trap Jaw scratched his metallic chin. “Seems like reason enough.” Blade’s eyes burned into him. “Actually, though, Ninjor and Evil Lynn are taking off to look at something in the Evergreen Forest, and we’re supposed to go with ‘em.”

“Their idea?” Blade asked, not budging from the cot.

“Skeletor’s,” Trap Jaw replied. Blade shot up from the bed, grabbed his scabbard and a second sword, and shouldered past Trap Jaw. “Excuse you,” the cyborg grunted.

As they walked down the corridor, Blade pressed his metallic companion for details. “What are we looking for?”

“Beats me. Nobody ever tells me these things.”

“I wonder why,” Blade mumbled.

“I heard that!” Trap Jaw snapped.

“And I care?” Blade shot back.

They walked the rest of the way without a word, Trap Jaw leading. They finally arrived at the hangar, where Evil Lynn waited, impatiently tapping her foot in front of the Collector, Skeletor’s flying transport. “We’re here,” Trap Jaw announced.

Blade rolled his eyes. “I think she noticed.”

“Don’t start with me…” Trap Jaw began, but Evil Lynn cut him off.

“Enough! We don’t have time for your adolescent bickering. The Collector is ready to go, so get in and shut up!” She wrapped her cape around herself, and glared at them. Trap Jaw slunk into the ship like a chastised puppy; Blade followed, and shot Evil Lynn a look when he thought she wouldn’t notice. She did, though, and he immediately re-focused his attention straight ahead.

“Morons,” she said under her breath.

Ninjor was waiting just inside the ship, with Beast Man hunched down beside him. “Great. The witch, the spook, and the walking flea trap. This’ll be a lovely trip,” Blade said to no one in particular, and plopped into a seat at the rear. Trap Jaw sat down next to him, and Blade turned his head to glower at him. Trap Jaw returned the look.

Evil Lynn boarded, and took the controls. The collector rose from the pad, and eased out past the rock hewn hangar doors.

Skeletor watched from the far end of the hangar as his minions took off; he smiled, and hopped onto a sky sled. He waited a few moments, and then took off behind them, just out of detection range. He cackled to himself, reveling in his cleverness. Evil Lynn’s discovery proved he was right about Hiss. He had deliberately neglected to tell his warriors his suspiscions; he was counting on them to provide Hiss with further distraction, on top of the heroes headed his way. This would give him the opportunity he needed to steal into Hiss’ lair, discover what the detestable snake was up to, and hopefully turn it to his own advantage. At the very least, he needed to make sure Hiss did not succeed at whatever he was attempting; if he could do no more than foil Hiss’ plans, it would be well worth the effort. And if his lackeys were clueless about the whole affair, so much the better. He preferred things that way; his time in the armies of the Horde had taught him that simple minds were easy to dominate and control. “ Surround yourself with powerful allies, but make sure they don’t have the brains or will to oppose you,” Hordak, his commander and teacher, had always advised. It galled Skeletor to admit it, but his hated mentor had given him his guiding principles in choosing those who followed him. Most of his warriors possessed incredible physical abilities, but couldn’t string two coherent thoughts together without causing permanent brain damage, and he liked it that way (though he had to admit Beast Man and Trap Jaw were, at times, nearly enough to change his mind on the subject). It didn’t matter much; they were fodder for battle, nothing more.

Except for a few. Evil Lynn and Ninjor were different from most of the others. They had intellect in addition to their abilities. They were no geniuses, by any means, but they were clever, a trait he found useful when it served his ends, and highly annoying when they dared attempt to pursue their own goals. Evil Lynn was one of his first recruits, a promising young witch with great power. He had assumed, being a woman, she would be easily manipulated, a notion that soon proved false as he discovered deviousness in her almost equal to his own. Ninjor was a more recent choice, and he, too, seemed rather innocuous at first. But his quiet, scheming nature soon revealed itself; this afternoon’s incident was not the first time Ninjor had spied from his beloved shadows hoping for some bit of information he could use for his own purposes. They bore close watching, those two, though they posed no real threat. Neither, he knew, would ever dare challenge him directly, so for now he tolerated their minor deceits and treacheries so long as they proved useful. Still, he felt the day would come when he would be forced to deal with both of them. He couldn’t hold back a small grin at the thought.

But that was something to ponder another time. He had work to do, and if luck was with him, he might actually find the power to rid himself of everything that annoyed him. A small “clunking” sound disturbed his reverie, and he looked down by the control pedal. A red hook from his cyborg lackey’s attachment belt had gotten caught in there, and was pulling loose. He kicked at it, and it flew off, gouging his leg in the process.

Rid myself of everything that annoys me, he thought again. I think I’ll start with Trap Jaw…

*******************************************************

The heroic warriors moved quietly toward the abandoned temple Greystar had led them to. The vehicles had been left a distance away to avoid easy detection, and they had traveled through the thick overgrowth to further conceal their approach. Fisto, Ram Man and Man-E-Faces had joined them.

He-Man scanned the area with a quick glance, and turned to Greystar. “Okay, so do we announce ourselves at the front door or try to find a quiet way in?”

“He knows we’re coming,” Greystar replied.

“Well, that pretty much takes care of a surprise attack,” Teela said as she settled down right behind Greystar. “Are you sure he detected us?”

“He didn’t detect us,” he answered, strangely sure of his conclusion. “He just knows we’re on our way.”

“Um hm,” she muttered, giving a quick glance in He-Man’s direction. He caught the look, but let it pass without comment.

Greystar continued, “If we could come at him without announcing ourselves first…”

“How's about the Key?” Ram Man suggested, pointing at the device hanging from Gwildor’s robe.

The Thenurian looked down at the Cosmic Key, and back up nervously. “Normally, Rammy, that would be an outstanding idea; but right now, the tones of Eternia are, well, a bit off key. I can’t be 100% sure of where we’ll wind up.”

“You got to Grayskull, didn’t you?” Teela offered.

“Well, yes and no.” Gwildor hesitated. “I was, actually, aiming for the throne room before. I was…a little off.” He immediately looked over at Ror. “Don’t you say it!” he admonished, wagging his finger back and forth.

“Too easy,” Ror retorted.

Duncan cut off the exchange. “The key’s out, then. We need something we can count on to get us in.”

“I do have an idea,” Gwildor said.

“Shorty, you touch one key on that cosmic contraption…” Ror began through gritted teeth.

“No, no, not the key,” Gwildor assured him. “There may be a way in there Hiss doesn’t know about.”

Man-E looked puzzled for a moment, then glanced over his shoulder at the temple; he snapped back around when it hit him. “That’s a Thenurian Forest Temple, isn’t it?” The others looked at him, a bit surprised; he wasn’t quite sure how to take that. “I studied art and architecture at the City of Wisdom; it was part of my acting curriculum,” he said, a little indignant.

Gwildor smiled. “Ah, a man of culture! Yes, that’s exactly what it is. My people built them in all the forests and woodlands we could, to honor the sacred Skytree, who brought life to all Eternia.”

“Yeah, we worship a tree,” Weldon said dryly.

Gwildor glared at him for a moment, then continued. “If memory serves, there should be three long tunnels, one on each side of the structure, and one in the back. They’re about 40 feet long, and the openings on both ends are hidden fairly well, blended in with the decorative work. They’re very hard to locate unless you know exactly what you’re looking for, so it’s quite possible Hiss isn’t even aware of them. They lead up to the second story storage areas.”

“So we could drop in on him,” Ram Man said. Ror gave him an exaggerated, pained expression. “Well, somebody had to say it,” Rammy shrugged.

“Alright, Gwildor, lead the way. Any little element of surprise we can manage can’t hurt.” Greystar motioned for everyone to follow the small techno-wizard.

As they quietly snuck around to the back of the temple, Duncan asked Weldon, “Those tunnels are an interesting thing to put in a temple; was there a religious significance?”

“Yes, very important religious function,” Weldon explained.

“Which was?” Duncan pressed.

“They were the sacred garbage chutes.” Weldon answered, deadpan.

Duncan muffled a guffaw, and Gwildor shot annoyed glance over his shoulder.