Disclaimer: Storm Hawks belongs to Asaph Fipke and Nerd Corps Entertainment. I am not them. I am not making any money from this, and no animals were harmed in the making of this story.

Author's Note: This is a prequel to the series, born of my love of all things Cyclonian. Fair warning: This story reads more like a series of related vignettes than a cohesive narrative.

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The Cyclonian Empire was crumbling.

He had achieved more than any previous ruler of Cyclonia ever had. He had united Atmos under his banner, and had ruled for many years, despite constant resistance and rebellion from some of the conquered terras. And when age began to take its toll, he had passed the mantle of Master Cyclonis onto his son. Cyclonia must never show weakness to the world.

But the younger Master Cyclonis had been headstrong and brash. Too often he saw fit to disregard his advisors, his father included. Too often he would take matters into his own hands, riding out to meet his enemies sword to sword. It had cost him his life. The Sky Knight of the rebel Storm Hawks squadron defeated him, his Switchblade Elite was destroyed, his parachute ripped apart in a foolish attempt to retaliate.

Enraged, Tanager sent the Dark Ace to avenge the death of his son. Fiercely loyal, ruthless, and remarkably talented for one so young, the Dark Ace did not disappoint. He did not return to Terra Cyclonia until he had single-handedly massacred the entire squadron. But their victory was a hollow one. Urged on by the death of Master Cyclonis, and the so-called martyring of the Storm Hawks, the rebellion gained ground, slowly but surely chipping away at the Cyclonian hold on many of the outer terras.

That damage may have been contained, the Empire saved, if not for what happened within the heart of Cyclonia itself. For every victory the rebels celebrated, discord and treachery within his "loyal" ranks followed. Cyclonia must be strong, and many who sought the title of Master Cyclonis for themselves saw nothing but weakness within the current Imperial family: a doddering old man, and a child.

The first assassination attempt, orchestrated by one of his oldest supporters, made Tanager reevaluate his priorities. He withdrew his Talon forces from many of the outlying terras, fortifying his hold on the core. The Empire could be rebuilt after the rise of a new Master Cyclonis. He knew it would take years before that time would come to pass, knew that he likely would not be around to see it, but he was determined that his own blood continue his work. He would not allow Cyclonia to be picked apart by vultures.

He sent a guard to summon his granddaughter to the throne room.

He was not kept waiting long. The child, no more than five, entered, looking up at him with more than a little awe and trepidation. "Lark," he greeted her. His voice was deep, almost inhuman. He had dabbled in more than his share of darkness during his rise to power. He crooked a finger, beckoning her closer. Looking into her violet eyes, he vowed not to make the same mistakes with her as he did with her father. She would be the ruler his son had possessed too many failings to become.

"It is past time we began your education."