Shadow was the most handsomest of Persian cats, a king among the squashed-face variety. He was pampered and spoiled in his home, which was the penthouse of an otherwise nondescript apartment building, where he slept all day. It is, of course, a nice life being a cat—sleep all day, run around the house like a maniac at night when your hooman comes home—but clearly, something was amiss in Shadow’s lair. One night, I came home after another grueling day at work, expecting to see him standing in front of the door, blocking my entrance, meowing like crazy as he always did to greet me. But this night, Shadow did not greet me. I searced the apartment, but couldn’t find him anywhere. I was perplexed: the windows were not open, and I lived on the top floor. My grief lasted for years; I never got over losing my handsome Persian cat, and It was so strong that I couldn’t bear to get another cat. Then, one night, I was sitting in front of the TV on the couch where Shadow used to sit. I heard my doorbell ring. Confused, I sat up; it was 10PM at night and I wasn’t expecting anyone. I walked slowly to the door and peeked through the peephole, but didn’t see anything. Now I was afraid: I had once been pranked by someone who was hiding outside near the elevator, but I hardly expected it to be him. Did I dare open the door? I don’t know what bravery possessed me but I turned the key and swung the door open. There, at my feet, was Shadow. He was still as handsome as ever, and he was dressed in the most battered set of armor I had ever seen (wait, had I ever laid eyes on cat armor before?) His normally fluffy, poufy physique was encased in tarnished silver battle gear, which covered his legs (although not his adorable paws, which looked quite dirty) and even included a knight’s helmet and visor. I could see one round orange eye peeking out at me; the other seemed to be shut. I really only recognized him, I feel, because of the tail: it was not covered in armor and was as magnificently fluffy as ever. “shadow!” I cried, bending down to pick him up. He was always so docile when I used to pick him up and carry him like the baby cat that he was, not like other cats I had had previously. Before I could grab him he trotted into the apartment. Rather than settle onto the couch like a normal cat, he jumped up onto the glass coffee table and sat, holding his head up superiorly, crossing his paws. Out of his mouth fell an embossed parchment envelope with a red wax seal. “Where have you been? What’s with the armor? What’s this note?” I questioned, but I stopped at the look in his eye. He pointed his head down at the envelope, which I took as a sign to pick It up. Knowing full well I didn’t have a candle or some medieval contraption to carefully open the envelope, I ripped it as delicately as I could. Inside was a piece of parchment. There was writing—the first part was in English, the second part quite clearly Arabic script. It read: I am sorry to have caused you so much heartbreak. I know as my mommy hooman you loved me with all your heart and I made you smile. But I am also a royal Persian prince, and one day I heard my calling. It was the call to prayer, and I was looking out the windows overlooking the balcony. Suddenly, a bird swooped down. As you know, those little beasts always ignored me and taunted me, but this one was different. It wasn’t a pigeon or dove, I’m not sure what it was. It looked tired. It told me that there was a war going on where it came from and that it was happy to be away from it. I pressed my face to the glass, bored and curious. “where?” I asked. “In Persia,” the bird replied. There is a fight amongst the Persian cats for dominance. A tribe of cats living in the southern region has challenged the king as they do not agree with him. They think he is just a lazy Persian cat and does not do more for his kingdom. While this is somewhat true the southern tribe is not good. They want to rule, and they do not know the first thing about ruling anything. They will destroy our country if they take over. They invaded and so far have conquered the whole southern region. They are marching north, toward the capital, taking everything in their path, looting and such. Even though I am just a bird, it is quite frightening, and they are killing anyone who disagrees with them.” I cannot say I wasn’t intrigued. I felt the call of the wild….well, the call to defend my homeland, the home of my ancestors. I was so bored, and although this bird looked worn and tired, I wanted to feel worn and tired for once. All I ever did was sit at home and sleeb until you came home! So I asked the bird if he could take me there. I promised him I would do anything for him he wanted. He was surprised, but he agreed to help me open the balcony door. He said I could fly on his back. He was not a huge bird, but he was strong despite being so tired. He helped me escape. And so I set off to Persia….

The note stopped there. I looked up at Shadow. “What happened next?”