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Black Panther Lore

Silence Amongst The Stars

T'Challa stood in the Hall of the Orisha, listening for voices that would not come clear. He knew this meant he was not yet meant to hear what they had to say. The Orisha would not be hurried, though the times demanded action. In particular, the Timestream Entanglement demanded action. The two Dooms, megalomaniacs from their two different histories, were at war, and all the different worlds were their battlefield—including the worlds of the Intergalactic Empire of Wakanda. T'Challa had built this empire over the course of his life, bringing peoples and planets into the fold and protecting them from all threats. The Wakandan ideal — progress and tradition intertwined, science and magic woven together into a purely technomantic culture — was the pillar of the empire, and T'Challa did his best to embody both. Both Dooms had tried to enlist him in their battles, arguing that Wakanda and Latveria were more alike than different. T'Challa responded coldly, disliking the Dooms' shared presumption that like them, T'Challa wished to be a tyrant. "You have a chance," the Doom from times past spoke, "not only to control the future but to choose which future you would control." Conversely, the Doom of 2099 argued, the Timestream Entanglement created not one future to choose, but an infinite panoply to be ruled simultaneously. "Now," he claimed, "we can create an endless gallery of futures, all of which may fall under our control."

T'Challa knew better than to trust either ruler, so he delayed allying with either Doom, knowing sooner or later he must choose, but also dreading the disastrous potential of an ill-informed choice. Nevertheless, the decision loomed. Wakanda could not remain neutral when so much was at stake. Could the Empire oppose both Dooms? What effect would that have, if there was no way to undo the Timestream Entanglement, or at least stabilize it to prevent more cataclysms?

Too many questions, all of which the Orisha refused to answer.

What disturbed him the most about the Timestream Entanglement was that it meant he could be certain of nothing. He did not know whether he had existed a year ago, whether the Empire had existed a year ago. He did not trust his own mind, and the more he retired to the Hall of the Orisha, the more keenly he felt the need for their voices.

They were not always silent, but they were always unclear. T'Challa would almost have preferred the repudiation of their silence. At least that would have told him he was wrong. As it was...

He knew Shuri was there before she spoke, softly, in deference to the sacred surroundings. "Brother."

"Sister." T'Challa and Shuri had not agreed on much these past weeks. He let the greeting hang. She had come to see him, so she could tell him why.

"You are spending a lot of time alone in this hall," she said eventually. "What for?"

"Waiting for guidance," he said.

"Your people are waiting for you to guide them," Shuri retorted. "We know what to do. The data is clear."

"Data does not tell the whole story, sister," T'Challa said.

"It tells enough. We know the Doom of 2099 did not cause this. He wishes to turn it to his own ends, but he did not cause it. So our choice is clear!" To Shuri, this was self-evident: Their true opponent was the Doom who had caused the Timestream Entanglement.

T'Challa wasn't so sure. "Is it? We who exist in a nexus of futures, knit together by faster-than-light travel and teleportation devices — we should cast our lot with the Doom who now wishes to master all those futures?"

"Better him than the Doom who would keep the worlds churning and annihilating each other. Sooner or later, the disciple of chaos is consumed by chaos."

Now T'Challa couldn't help but smile. "That's philosophical, coming from you. The Orisha speak to you too, whether you think you hear them or not."

"Brother," she said, coming closer to him and holding his gaze as she took one of his hands in both of hers. "You're not the only one who cares about tradition. If the Orisha speak, I will also hear what they have to say. But if they do not, we still must act. You still must act. Even without the Bast's direction, you are still the Black Panther, our king and leader. You will make the right decision."

"I do not share your confidence." He could not have admitted that to anyone else, but Shuri was his sister and his closest confidant. T'Challa could permit himself to be vulnerable around her.

And she him. "You and I both understand how deeply the Timestream Entanglement has destabilized space-time in every direction," Shuri said. "How do we know what it has done to us, to our memories? How do you know we were not versions of ourselves created by the Entanglement?"

This problem, which had so unsettled T'Challa just minutes before, had melted away, and he didn't know why until he was articulating his response. "Because the Orisha are still speaking." It felt true as he said it. T'Challa took comfort in their voices, but also knew that their message was not meant to comfort. Wakanda faced a terrible choice, and only he could make it — but he could not make it without his sister's counsel.

"Then listen to them," Shuri said. She tapped a miniature console on her wrist and a holographic screen appeared in front of them. "And listen to me."

The screen lit up with an image T'Challa had seen too many times. Doombots of 2099 dropping out of the sky, spreading destruction across a city he recognized. A futuristic version of San Francisco. The span of the Golden Gate Bridge shattered, the rolling hills veiled in smoke, panicked tourists fleeing as museums and monuments collapsed around them.

The same scene repeated in the Wakandan provincial planet Eta Ophiuchi IV.

And in the Savage Land.

And in Madripoor.

"Those are not the same Doombots," T'Challa observed.

"There is no difference between the Dooms," Shuri said. "They want only power, and they know only one way to get it."

Doombots battled on the rooftop of the Baxter Building...and then a different Baxter Building, this one partially collapsed.

Doombots streaking around a Helicarrier like hornets. The Helicarrier burning, its engines failing as it fell toward the ocean far below.

T'Challa did not permit himself to turn away. The Orisha murmured, their voices mostly just beyond his hearing. If even they were uncertain, how was he to choose?

He didn't realize he had spoken aloud until Shuri answered him.

"Because that," she said, "is what kings do."

T'Challa nodded gravely. "And on the king's head rest the consequences of those decisions. They are not to be made rashly."

"Brother. What is in this Empire's best interest? Do we confront this threat or permit it to grow? That is the question."

"Yes. And making a decision without having the necessary information has led many an empire to ruin."

They kept watching Doom's reign of terror over every place his Doombots could reach. Shuri gave T'Challa another minute to think, and then she asked, "So what are we to do?"

"Did you put this video together?"

"I will not lie to you, brother. Certain people asked me to speak to you." Off his accusatory look, she protested, "But I would have done it anyway."

"Who?"

"Tony Stark. Reed Richards."

Of course, T'Challa thought.

"We need to band together to fight back," Shuri pressed, "and it isn't about one Doom or another. It is about rebuilding a future we can all live in."

Tiny Shuri, standing so resolute. T'Challa admired her more than he could say. Certainly more than he could tell her or she would never let him hear the end of it. He broke into a smile. "Sister, you do have your ways."

"My ways work."

His smile faded. "No. Wakanda does not need Reed Richards and Tony Stark to tell it what to do."

"You mean you don't want that. Don't mistake yourself for the empire, brother."

T'Challa's expression hardened as the video feed continued to show the destruction of Madripoor—another Madripoor. "I hear your advice, sister. And you would do well to heed mine: Do not be so quick to abandon the old ways to please outsiders. Their interest is not Wakanda's interest."

The rebuke stung her. To soften the blow, T'Challa decided to give her some of what she wanted. A leader must know when to stand firm and when to compromise.

"Work with Stark and Richards if you wish," he said. "They are trying to develop a machine to undo what Doom has done, yes?"

She nodded, still too angry to speak to him.

"Lend your mind to this cause, and with it, Wakanda's technological prowess." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Lead them, sister."

Though Shuri tried, she couldn't quite hide a mischievous smile. "Oh, they need to be led, all right. Think they know everything."

"Then you will show them, will you not?"

"I will," Shuri promised. "But surely there is more we can do, brother. People are in need. Across numberless worlds, the Dooms stomp out all dissent."

"The Orisha will guide us when it is time," T'Challa said. Having compromised already, he was not inclined to give in further. "Go, Shuri. Build the machine. When it is time for Wakanda's armies to join the battle, Bast will show the way."

"I wish I trusted them as you do," Shuri said, her gaze wandering over the statues of the Orisha in the great hall.

"I wish that as well," T'Challa said.

After she left, he returned to his deep listening. What he hadn't mentioned to Shuri, lest it fuel her skepticism toward the Orisha, was that their voices sounded...different. Even now, as Bast spoke to him, telling him he had done well to keep Wakanda out of the battle between the Dooms, that a time was coming for Wakanda to commit but that time was not yet at hand...there was something strange about her voice. Had the annihilation of so many timelines transformed the very Orisha themselves? Or was another force at work, bending their voices before he could perceive them?

Troubled, T'Challa held his station, waiting for a true sign from the Orisha, one unquestionable in their wisdom and understanding. But until then, he stood resolute in the knowledge that if there was to be war, Wakanda would determine the victor. For the Panther was poised to strike.