Since the birth of Sulari, the once-vigilant guardians of Thundarr Forest—Falcon and Shecon—had vanished from the public eye. Where once they would swing from cliffsides to rescue caravans, or strike from the shadows to dismantle slaver rings, now they remained hidden deep within the wilderness, choosing isolation over heroism.
Their cave, once a sacred base of operations, became a nesting ground. Solara’s cries filled the stone halls where war cries once echoed. Her tiny hands gripped the same carved weapons her parents once wielded. Rita’s boomerang rested untouched. Faro’s falcon-shaped ring rarely glowed anymore.
The forest creatures noticed the shift. Bandits and poachers crept further into the woods, emboldened by the absence of justice. Pigman tribes who once praised Falcon’s name began to wonder aloud whether the protectors had abandoned them.
Whispers reached the villagers at the edge of the forest. A caravan was lost. A small village razed by firebeasts. Where were the heroes? Why did Shecon and Falcon no longer answer cries for help?
The truth was cruel and simple: parenthood changed them.
Rita held Sulari close through fevered nights and restless days, haunted by visions of Murder Dog watching from the dark. She no longer had the clarity or will to hunt evil in its lairs—her world had shrunk to her child.
Faro, once bold and driven by purpose, now scouted cautiously. Every trail he walked, he feared it might lead enemies back to his family. He couldn’t risk it. Not with Rita still healing. Not with Sulari so small.
One afternoon, he stood at the cliff where he once flew from, wind rushing around him. His fists clenched. A fire had broken out in a camp three valleys away—but he turned back. “They’ll survive,” he muttered to himself, “Sulari needs me more.”
They weren’t just hiding.
They were mourning the versions of themselves they could no longer be.
And in their silence, the world grew darker.
The Cave of Silence.
Faro and Rita had made their choice.
With the birth of Sulari Faros, the world outside became a distant echo—muted and meaningless. The sounds of Thundarr Forest—chirping greenbirds, rustling thundervines, the babble of crystal springs—replaced the cries of strangers for help.
The cave of Falcon and Shecon became more than their sanctuary—it became their prison and paradise. They sealed off entrances with roots and stone, built moss-lined cradles from driftwood, and lit the cave’s sacred fire each morning for warmth and silence.
Sulari was beautiful—her eyes a soft green like Rita’s, her black hair wild like Faro’s. She never cried at night. Her birth had tamed the wild in them both, and for months they existed like shadows in the wild, free of the world’s judgment.
They stopped checking the Falcon glyph communicator. The Shecon boomerang was stashed in a wooden chest. Faro’s ring glowed occasionally when danger passed near, but he never responded. He no longer saw himself as Falcon the Third, just as Sulari’s father.
“She’s all that matters,” Rita whispered one day, stroking Sulari’s cheek. “Let the rest of the world burn, so long as this one breathes.”
Faro agreed. “No one knows we’re here. And no one ever will.”
They lived off honeyfruit, springroot, and hunted quietly when needed. Albort occasionally left parcels at a hidden tree hollow near the forest edge—blankets, tea leaves, medicine. But no one else came close.
No letters. No visits. No alerts.
Even Cal had stopped searching for them. Maybe he knew, maybe he didn’t care.
But inside the cave, the world was simple. Warm. Still. Sulari laughed in echoes off stone walls. Rita braided flowers into her daughter’s hair. Faro carved birds out of wood.
They were ghosts to the outside world now.
And they intended to stay that way—for Sulari Faros, their secret legacy.
With Falcon and Shecon silent, and Cal Faros—the heroic Kestrel—still emotionally reeling from the news of his mother’s new child, crime sweeps both Thundarr City and the forest. Mr. Clown and Flint Faros exploit the disorder, orchestrating a string of high-profile heists and kidnappings that bring fear back to the streets.
In the shadows of the forest, the masked menace known as Murder Dog resumes his reign of terror, testing the limits of justice in a lawless land.
Then, one moonlit night, Tiwa—the ancient fairy guardian of the Falcon Ring—appears before Rita and Faro. She brings a dire prophecy: if they do not return to their heroic duties, the sacred power of Falcon and Shecon will fade, and the balance of good and evil will tip forever.
Echoes of the Forest.
The morning mist curled gently through the towering trees of Thundarr Forest. Rita, holding her baby daughter Sulari wrapped warmly in soft fabric, stepped out of the cave for a quiet walk. Shecon’s armor lay untouched in the shadows of their home—today was to be a peaceful day. A mother’s day.
But peace is fragile in Thundarr.
Without warning, black-cloaked henchmen burst from the underbrush, faces masked, eyes glowing with malice. They moved like shadows, trained assassins in the service of an ancient darkness: the Evil Master, a forgotten warlord who had returned to reclaim the chaos he once sowed.
Rita tried to fight. Her instincts screamed Shecon, but motherhood had softened her speed. She fended off the first attacker, but another swept in behind. A third knocked her to her knees. Baby Sulari was wrenched from her arms with a cry that broke the forest’s silence.
They vanished.
By the time Rita scrambled up, bleeding and breathless, they were gone. All that remained was the distant echo of her child’s cries and the mark of a red flame scorched into a tree—the Evil Master’s symbol.
Back in the cave, Tiwa the fairy appeared to Faro, her wings trembling with urgency. “They’ve taken her,” she whispered. “The child is no longer safe. And you, Falcon, have let the Ring sleep for too long.”
Faro stood there, frozen.
He hadn’t worn the Ring of Falcon in months. His bond with its power had weakened. Self-doubt gnawed at him. Could he still wield it? Could he face what lies within the Evil Master’s castle? And most of all—could he forgive himself for letting this happen?
But there was no time to hesitate.
Tiwa floated close, voice sharper now. “If you delay, she will be lost. Forever.”
Faro clenched his fists. He walked to the cave wall, where the Ring of Falcon still hung from the carved stone it once chose him from. As his hand hovered near it, the crystal gleamed faintly.
“I’m coming for you, Sulari,” he murmured, slipping the ring onto his finger.
And the forest began to stir with the whisper of wings, old power, and the return of the storm.
Chapter Two: Falcon’s Resolve
The moon hung low over the jagged silhouette of the Evil Master’s castle. Once buried in the legends of Thundarr, its black spires now clawed at the night sky. Faro Faros—no longer the hesitant father, but a man reignited with purpose—stood at the base of a cliff overlooking the fortress. He wore no armor. The Ring of Falcon was tucked safely around his neck, its power resting dormant. This mission was not about glory. It was about love.
He scanned the stone walls. Guards patrolled erratically with flaming torches. Bats flapped from windows. In one hidden moment, Faro launched his rope and hook silently upward, catching it on a crag in the castle’s stone face. His muscles burned as he climbed, wind cutting across his face. When he finally reached the top, he crouched low, listening to the crackle of torchfire and the whispers of evil men.
Inside the castle, the corridors twisted like a maze. Faro crept through chamber after chamber—cold halls lined with dusty tapestries, bone-laced floors, and the scent of death clinging to the air. He passed dungeons where long-dead prisoners still grinned through iron bars.
He did not speak. He did not cry out. He remembered Rita’s scream. He remembered Sulari’s tiny fingers gripping his thumb. He remembered Tiwa’s warning.
And then, he heard it.
A cry.
Faint. High. Familiar.
He followed it, slipping past guards with silence and speed. He used shadows like weapons. He climbed onto high ledges, dropped into lower halls. He tied one sentry up with stolen chains and silenced another with a blow from a stolen club.
At last, he reached a heavy door.
The scream again. Louder. This time a wail.
He slammed his shoulder into the door. Once. Twice. On the third strike—it flew open.
There, in the center of a dark ritual chamber, Sulari lay in a glass cradle etched with ancient runes. Around her, cloaked priests chanted, drawing dark energy to awaken the Evil Master from the ancient sarcophagus behind them.
Faro did not hesitate.
He roared—not with magic, but with raw, primal fury—and leapt into the circle. His fists were fire. He struck, dodged, ducked. He threw one priest into another. He shattered a summoning stone with a broken chain. As dark energy lashed out at him, he yanked the ring from his neck and clenched it in his palm—not to transform, but to remind himself of the legacy he carried.
He reached Sulari, scooped her up in his arms, and whispered, “Daddy’s here.”
Behind him, the Evil Master’s sarcophagus cracked.
In the dead of night, with the castle walls cloaked in silence and shadows, Faro crept through the winding stone corridors with little Sulari cradled tightly to his chest. The baby had not cried once since he found her—almost as if she knew her father needed her stillness to escape.
Faro’s mind burned with emotion. He had fought past guards with nothing but his fists, a stolen dagger, and sheer determination. No magic ring. No Falcon powers. Just the force of a desperate father’s love.
He climbed the outer wall using a torn rope from the castle’s armory and slipped into the trees below. The dark forest seemed to breathe with him as he darted through it, knowing time was slipping and Rita—his Rita—was waiting, somewhere, fearing the worst.
When he reached the mouth of the Cave of Falcon, it was nearly dawn. A dim golden light filtered through the canopy above. He called softly, “Rita?”
Inside, Shecon sat stripped of all her old power, her once-strong form now trembling, her head buried in her hands as tears ran freely down her cheeks.
She lifted her face at the sound of his voice—hope clashing with fear in her green eyes. Then, she saw the bundle in Faro’s arms.
“Faro…?” she whispered, her breath catching.
He stepped forward and gently passed the baby into her arms. “She’s safe now.”
Rita held Sulari close, overcome with sobs that shook her entire body. The baby, as if sensing her mother’s grief, let out a soft coo. Rita looked at Faro, still weeping, and said, “I thought I lost everything… I thought I failed her… and you…”
“You didn’t,” Faro said, kneeling beside her. “We just forgot who we are. But we’re still here. Shecon isn’t in a ring. Falcon isn’t in a title. They live inside us. In how we protect her.”
The cave echoed with quiet as the family huddled together in the early light, a moment of peace in the chaos.
Rise Again.
Days after Sulari’s safe return, the Cave of Falcon stirred with renewed purpose. Faro and Rita, once consumed by the tenderness of new parenthood and the weight of loss, now stood side by side again—determined to reclaim what had been slipping from their grasp.
Rita, with her hair tied back and fire in her eyes, passed Sulari gently to Albort, who had returned to the forest to aid them again. “Protect her,” she said softly, brushing her daughter’s cheek before stepping out into the open clearing with Faro.
“We’re not just parents,” Faro said, tightening the wraps on his forearms. “We’re guardians of this world.”
They had lost touch with their power not because it had vanished, but because they had neglected their duty. Now, Tiwa, the fairy of Falcon, reappeared in a glimmer of light, circling above them as the training began.
“You must remember,” Tiwa whispered. “The power is not granted to those who want to protect, but to those who do—even in the face of fear.”
Faro and Rita began each day at sunrise. Falcon’s drills. Shecon’s agility. They scaled cliff walls, sparred barefoot on stone, and meditated under the waterfall of Echo Ravine. Slowly, their bodies remembered, and so did their spirits.
Faro summoned fragments of the Falcon aura—brief bursts of strength, flashes of speed. Rita’s Shecon instincts returned in flickers—sharp reflexes, impossible leaps.
But it wasn’t easy.
Some days Rita fell, shaking in exhaustion. Some days Faro yelled in frustration when his mind wouldn’t focus. But every time they got up, they looked at each other—and remembered what they were fighting for.
By the end of the second moon, the Ring of Falcon pulsed once again on Faro’s finger with green fire. Rita’s eyes shimmered gold during meditation, her Shecon energy surging back through her limbs.
They weren’t fully back yet—but they were close.
And the world could feel it.
Rumors stirred across Thundarr City and Forest—whispers that Falcon and Shecon would rise again.
Because evil hadn’t stopped.
But now… neither would they.
