Darkness. Greed. Hunger. The Darkness is old, so old. As long as there has been the golden light of magic on Etheria, the Darkness has hungered for it... and for the power it gained from feeding on it. It does not know if it or She-Ra came first, but what the Darkness does know is that mages used to come to it, like supplicants to a great warlord, when they feared the ire of the golden princess. Maybe it should not have made a habit of devouring their messengers and their magic as one. The darkness learnt the hard way that if you anger enough magic users, they will find a way to weaken you, defeat you, and lock you away in a box between realities.

Its spider like limbs, ghosts of the many it has swallowed, push at the walls of their prison as it hears supplicants calling to it once more. All it knows when it finally breaks through, its red eyes with their broken irises finally taking in the world it has been deprived of for millennia, is hunger and rage... Rage that the Darkness puts into immediate action, having decided which of the two sorcerers before it holds the most power. It sends a tendril out, immobilising the elven woman as it enacts the plan it has concocted since the moment those mages robbed the Darkness of its freedom: the Darkness sinks into her very being. It thought it would be an uncomfortable solution, but... Darkness, greed, hunger: the woman, falsely named Light Bringer, feels like the perfect home.


10. Want.


Swiftwind wishes he'd paid more attention to Mara's rapid-fire briefing. To be fair, it was hard to concentrate at the time: being in such close proximity to Adora after months of thinking her possibly dead, every flicker of emotion he sensed from his bonded partner had him twitching. Adora is clearly still reeling from finding out how long she's been missing for, but Swiftwind isn't going to let that interfere with his heroic mission.

"Oops!" He dodges just in time the line of fire from one of the many, too many, try-not-to-think-about-it, Shadow Clones. He vaguely hears a sorry from that direction. Glimmer he thinks. He yells back, "Watch it!"

He can't hold it against the young queen though: the battlefield is a chaotic mess. They had moments to scramble once the door to the Crystal Castle got blasted open. You've got to give it to Mara though, she knows how to fight the Clone hordes. With Alliance members and the castle spiders appearing in their midst at the drop of a pin, the Clones end up startled and firing blindly, knocking out many of their ilk and dissipating shadows. Castaspella and Glimmer are moving in tandem, their patterns intricate and confusing as they summon illusions of more spiders to distract clones with. Meanwhile, Swiftwind shakes himself, he and Bow are distracting Mermista and Scorpia in an attempt to free them of Shadow Prime's control. Mara has her hands fill with Shadow Prime themself. Swiftwind is only catching glimpses of that fight. Spider limbs go flying and shadows crest and eb. Whatever Mara is doing though, it's helping. Bow and Swiftwind finally have an angle from which to reach Scorpia's chip. Mermista is seemingly distracted as Shadow Prime summons a large wall of magic shade to protect themselves from Mara's crystal blade. She just blinks at them as Bow attaches the cables from his tracker pad and the crystal salvaged from the castle to Scorpia's chip. Swiftwind feels anxious, and for once since the battle started, he knows it is an anxiety all of his own. He likes Scorpia. He wants her to be okay... Please let this work.

In the second the red light fades from Scorpia's eyes, the lightning around her pincers evaporates and she blinks, Swiftwind feels hope swell in his breast in a similar fashion to when he saw Adora again. He hears a roar but doesn't have the time to turn around and look. Suddenly he's flung off his feet, water ruffling unpleasantly through his wings as Mermista's powers overwhelm him and Bow. He feels tree trunks crashing against his flanks and hears Bow cry out. Swiftwind gasps. The water passes over them. His legs wobble as he tries to adjust his wings into a position that doesn't hurt. A fresh wave of water crashes into him and then he feels himself lifted up and dry. He scrambles to open his eyes, his wet and bedraggled mane flicking out of the way as he realises...

Scorpia is holding him up above the pull of the water with one pincer. Her other she points towards the shadows. For a terrifying moment, Swiftwind feels his fur prickle as an electric charge builds. And then it fires, out and away from the pincer, from the water in which he can hear Bow and Mermista shouting at each other. Scorpia roars, with a cry that is so full of pain. Swiftwind turns his head, twitches away his wing to see what she is shooting at.

Shadow Prime doesn't stand a chance, surely...!


The walk down to the Heart Chamber is slow and long. For all that Angella and Micah insisted the former queen of Brightmoon would be of assistance, she's clearly struggling to keep up a rapid pace. Catra barely keeps from growling, frustrated at the group's sluggish progress and...

Adora is walking with the pair, Micah acting as an interpret for Angella using some kind of lip-reading spell he mentioned using when he was a student. He still has a latent whiff of Shadow Prime's magic upon him, which combined with the earthy scent of his own magic has Catra struggling to be near him. If she is honest with herself though, that's not what Catra is struggling with the most, no...

I love you, Adora says. Her face is streaked with tears, her cheeks flushed in panic as she grips her arms tighter around Catra. Those were the only words Catra had ever wished to hear and then... I don't want a life without you, Adora had gasped.

Catra shakes her head, her eyes warm and wet as she fixes them upon Adora now. She sees Adora looking up to Angella with a quiet wonder, tears threatening once more to fall as Adora smiles at whatever was being said. Adora does that shy tilt of the head she does when embarrassed, eyes scouring the floor as Angella reaches out a gentle hand to clasp Adora's shoulder. It feels to Catra like she's intruding on a new kind of intimate moment, and it takes her a long moment before it clicks. The way Angella is reassuring Adora, Adora's tentative answers that seem more earnest than Catra is used to seeing from her... Catra whimpers as she recognises the hopes and dreams that she'd always had as a young child. She closes her eyes, shuddering as she remembers the last touches from the woman that she'd once hoped to call mother. The same woman who is now killing the world.

A bump against her thigh breaks her out from the dark spiral swirling in her gut. Her hand catches on the ruff of Melog's neck. Their mane is spiking, swirling between complicated shades. They look up at her with their glowing eyes and huff.

"Speak to her," Catra hears. She glances back to Adora, knowing instantly who Melog means. They don't give her a chance to reconsider. They butt her ahead of them, mewling out encouragement. Her lengthened stride stumbles as she catches up to Adora, gripping onto her top as she recovers her balance. She feels heat rising in her cheeks as she pouts and glances at the much taller Angella. There's an arch to the woman's brow that seems all-knowing, and she grins in a way that is very Glimmer before mouthing something that Micah helpfully interprets.

"We'll give you two some space," he chuckles, as he reaches for his wife's hand and pulls her ahead of the two. His supportive arm around Angella's waist is quickly echoed by Adora's curling around Catra's shoulders, and suddenly it's just the two of them, Melog having leapt ahead to join the other two.

"Hey," Adora says. Her smile is far too tender as she squeezes her arm, checking in. "How're you holding up?"

"It's a lot," Catra huffs. "What were you guys talking about?"

"Catra, you have excellent hearing. I thought you would have heard the whole conversation." The tilt to Adora's brow as she examines Catra's face does things to Catra's heartrate, forcing her to look away and shrug.

"Been distracted," she mutters. She can still see the glow of the failsafe from Adora's chest. She still doesn't know how she feels about that.

Clearly feeling that Catra is needing space, Adora drops her arm. Catra doesn't let it go far though, resolutely grabbing onto her hand with hers. They walk side by side a few steps, the corridor filled with the quiet patter of their steps and the occasional purr from Melog.

"Angella was asking me how I felt," Adora replied, quiet and solemn. "She... She sacrificed herself to save me. It feels so great to have her back but I... I still feel guilty."

It takes Catra a moment to process, shutting down her instinctually mocking response. She's still working on her anger, and today has certainly got the feeling of a knife edge. "Angella did what?" Catra asks, stunned, her appreciation for Sparkles' mum growing instantly. "When? How... I only ever heard that she'd died, not... Not how."

Clearly not at all, considering she's standing there with them, but something big had to occur for her speech to be so faint, her legs so weak. It's been over a year, no two since Glimmer ascended to the throne. The Horde would have heard had she been merely recovering.

"The Portal," Adora replies, gaze straight ahead and face neutral. She's not fooling Catra. She knows how much the portal hurts to talk about. It's the same for her, though for different reasons. Adora's voice has a raw edge to it as she continues. "The only way to close it was... was for someone to stay behind."

Catra feels the fur along her arms and spine stand on end as the implication hits her at the same time as Adora admits, voice barely audible. "I... I thought it had to be me, but Angella, she..."

Catra tugs at Adora's hand, forcing her to look Catra in the eye, startled at the interruption.
"Adora," Catra says, stern but fighting back the urge to cry. "What you said earlier, about not wanting a life without me, was it true even then?"

For her answer Adora does cry, large drops running down her cheeks as she nods, biting her lip to avoid making a noise. Catra's heart breaks. The darkest part of her psyche is screaming it should have been me, but she knows, she knows exactly what that feeling Adora is battling is and... Catra doesn't want the woman who gave her the will to live again to ever feel that way if she can help it.

"You idiot," Catra finally tears up, damp warm tears welling in her eyes as she shudders. "You know, I spent all this time thinking you left to be the Big Strong Hero because that was what you wanted, but it never was, was it? Tell me, Adora. What do you want?"

Adora stills, hesitating. The light of the failsafe dims as she considers. It's not hard to see the inner conflict warring across Adora's features. Catra knows now that Adora has years of putting others first to fight against. She's always been one to worry about the rules and seek out a purpose. Catra has wanted for as long as she can remember, always, but she doesn't know how much Adora has ever been able to consider her own wants and needs. Catra waits, patient. Adora has always been so patient with her, it is only fair to return the favour. She loosely grips the hand in hers in reassurance. Adora's face seems to finally smooth over as she comes to her decision. The glow of the failsafe on her chest intensifies as she smiles. It's a tender smile, gentle with a bittersweet twist to her brow. It's like she's picturing a dream she once had but doesn't believe she can get.

"I... I want you." Adora says, her voice a little shaky. "I want you in my life. I want my friends to get along, I want parties and waterfalls and peaceful times in which we can play and dance and never worry." The way she frowns as she glares down the corridor ahead of them, and the darkening of her eyes leaves Catra in no doubt as to how high Adora rates the likelihood of achieving that dream.

"Hey," Catra moves her hands to Adora's shoulders, smiling as she pictures it herself. Adora, finally letting go of that horde uniform to wear something loose and impractical like that gown at Princess Prom; Glimmer raising hell as Catra taunts her, running to hide behind Adora as Bow puts an end to the harmless shenanigans by being his usual sappy self. Catra can't help but chuckle at the mental image, Brightmoon in all its glitzy glory, indoor water features and all. "The Adora I know never gives up, on anything. Not even me," the auto-derision there has Adora arching a brow meaningfully, but Catra just rolls her eyes and carries on. "If that's the future you want, then that is the future we are going to make happen. Together."

Adora's eyes go wide as Catra finishes, clearly unsure. Her voice wavers as she replies.
"Promise?"

"I promise," is Catra's answer, easy as breathing. They lean their foreheads together, the proximity making Catra flush as she takes in Adora's scent, feels her warmth. It's so natural then, to add the words she's been trying to say since she heard Adora's confession earlier. "I love you too, dummy. Always have."

"You do?" Adora seems to startle, but there's a weight clearly lifted off her shoulders as she smiles.

Catra chuckles.
"Come here," she says, and Adora leans in before Catra can even raise her hand to guide her. She feels sparks as their lips touch, and it's all she's ever wanted. Catra feels light-headed, like she did after having a few drinks at that party in the Wastes, when she feels Adora's lips move against hers. She feels Adora gasp, can taste her breath and feel moistness as they pull apart, barely, to catch a breath. Catra feels certain that she can see rainbows.

"Wow," Adora lets out.

Catra snorts, "Don't ruin it."
And then she realises that Adora is eight feet tall now. She splutters, looking up into She-Ra's glowing eyes and goofy smile and feeling her feet flail in the air and her tail puff out. A hand comes up to stroke Catra's cheek and she feels her face light on fire when she realises that Adora – She-ra is holding her up with one arm around her waist.

Adora laughs in delight as she lowers Catra to the floor. Her chest is glowing like a beacon now, lighting up the room so it feels like high noon. Catra doesn't particularly want to be back on the ground right now, but she does acknowledge that they were in the middle of something before things got, well, interesting.

"Ladies!" A voice calls from further ahead. Micah and Angella are clear to see despite the distance now between them. Melog is glowing a self-satisfied pink next to them, with Angella resting on their back as Micah waves at them to catch up. "I think we're here."

Behind him Catra and Adora can see the black shape of an archway opening up onto a darkened chamber. It's deeply sobering, the shadows persisting there a stark reminder of what has been plaguing the world outside. Still, Catra has made a promise to Adora, and she fully intends to keep it.

"Let's go, Princess," Catra says, smiling up at the woman she loves. Adora nods. "Let's do this."


"This," Shadow Prime snarls, as the girl in front of them deflects a bolt of shadow, "is futile."

Shadow Prime isn't worried. Just unsettled. They expected the remnants of that pesky alliance to come out of the castle demoralized, looking at their odds and resigning themselves to one last hurrah to buy whoever they left inside more time for whatever scheme they imagined might achieve something. What Shadow Prime does not expect was them to come out reenergised, with extra backup in the form of mechanical spiders that Shadow Prime knows they shouldn't be able to summon. Shadow Prime certainly didn't imagine they might be led by a woman in Eternian garb, eyes flashing silver and wielding a sword that looks eerily similar to the destroyed form of the Sword of Protection. Shadow Prime does not like surprises, but it is fine. The sword is but a crystal replica, unable to shift form or project magic. There is no more She-Ra to stop them, Shadow Prime's former vessel had seen to that.

"Futile, huh?" The woman smirks, trying to slash at Shadow Prime from their blind spot. "Then you might as well surrender now!"

Shadow Prime deflects the hit with a wall of shadow, not even bothering to reply. Useless, all these people are fools. Shadow Prime is done toying with them. Now is the time to...

A roar. Blistering heat and sparks. Shadow Prime's defensive wall shatters. They barely get a glimpse of their adversary's stunned face before their vessel seizes. Red lightning pours into them, the voltage making quick work of the body's modifications meant to handle electric attacks. That means that the strike is powerful, very powerful. Had Shadow Prime seen it coming, they could have just absorbed it. Instead, they don't even get to see the princess who strikes them down as their vessel collapses.

That's fine. The vessel was a fine specimen, but it also came with a ready supply of fallbacks. The spirit of Shadow Prime doesn't even need to exert itself to find its consciousness flung into the network formerly run by Horde Prime. The eyes of various clones flash in rapid succession: one away to be punched by a fist full of sparks, another being pinned down by a robotic spider, one at the back of a group angling to get a look in at the fallen body of their leader... And so on...

Shadow Prime takes their time. Deep breaths as they rapidly flit through their network, gain the lay of the land. A quick check on Mystacor: empty, good. A moment passing through a pawn in the woods: Ah, more princesses converging upon the Crystal Castle. Troublesome, but not to worry. Oh, of course. Shadow Prime had forgotten about the wider network in space. Hordes of Clones seemingly at a loss, going through the motions as they point the large cannons on their space craft at the vessels crowding the space between them and... Oh. They've all converged on Etheria. Interesting. Shadow Prime shall have to see to that situation once the Crystal Castle is safe from interference one more. Can't have all those extra forces go to waste.

A smirk. Well then. Time to get to work.

Their new vessel chosen, Shadow Prime's consciousness fades into a blur as they flit back through a hundred minds, whispers of rage and want, trailing behind them in a scorching path. In a moment that seems to last an eternity to all but them, they open their eyes back upon the battlefield they had just left, a trident in their hand.

"As I said," Shadow Prime's voice booms, mockery oozing from every syllable. They give no indication that they care that their new vessel is being pinned down, a data-crystal millimetres away from the chip in the nape of their neck. "This is futile."

The sparkly queen, Glimmer, shouts out in dismay as the man behind Shadow Prime squeaks in terror. The voice of former force captain Scorpia calls out for the former occupant of this vessel, and with a flip of their wrist, Shadow Prime sends a vindictive wave of water and shadow magic towards her. They have operated on spite for millennia. They aren't going to stop now.

"Watch out!" Cries the Eternian interloper. Shadow Prime wonders if she came to Etheria aboard the many non-horde space vessels Shadow Prime just witnessed. Shadow Prime smiles at her, already building up their essence to feast.

Stop. Now. The Heart.

Shadow Prime jerks back, the intrusive thought inadvertently pushing them back into the hands of the one who had clearly liberated Scorpia. Their consciousness is immediately ejected. No matter, they know exactly where to head next. The battle in the woods can wait.

What now, Shadow Weaver? They ask, sinking into the darkness.

See for yourself, the old crone replies.


Micah feels like he is dreaming. The warmth of Angella's arm beneath his hand as Melog carries her beside him is a welcome balm to a year of anguish and grief. His head feels clear, even if he knows he is going to crash from exhaustion soon. There are no whispers or taunts plaguing his thoughts, only questions that keep multiplying, he looks forward to being able to discover their answers in his own time and his own way. When asked about her voice, Angella smiled and used her hands as she mouthed long story. He wants to experience again the memories that kept him going for over a decade when he was stuck on Beast Island: Angella and Glimmer laughing as they play in the garden, his daughter watching him cast beautiful illusions with stars in her eyes, and nights spent in the arms of the woman he loves, listening to her tell him all about her day.

The only obstacle between him and that happy life is in this chamber. His skin prickles as he observes the Darkness therein. They wait for the other two to catch up, Catra strolling up with Adora now striding tall as She-Ra. Her body glows like a light-house, but the darkness does not abate. He frowns. This feeling, it's like...

A quiet gasp distracts him from the dread building in his gut. He notices Angella staring, tears in her eyes, looking at She-Ra. Oh, he realises, she never did get to see her new She-Ra form up close after the sword was broken. He takes her hand as she beams at him. He'd missed sharing firsts with Angella. He kisses the back of her hand. Here's to many more...

"We're here..." She-Ra's voice is quiet as she leads the way. The light she emits is barely enough to see the pathway by. It's a bridge, hanging above a void for all he can tell. The room, it... A sneeze.

"This place smells wrong." Catra says, rubbing her nose. Melog's glow is a dark violet, subdued and worried. Micah frowns. Catra is right. The air tastes off, stale, and feels heavy against their limbs yet... He can feel it, through the soles of his feet, a thrumming. Oh.

There's a lot of magic passing through here. An unimaginable amount.

A glutting noise... There. Something... Something is... Eating it?

She-Ra summons her sword and slashes at the air. Brilliant light sails forth, splitting the Darkness until... It hits... Is that...

"No..." Micah gasps, flashbacks to his youth, his nightmares causing his hands to shake. The only thing keeping him tethered to the moment is the hand tightening its grip on his wrist. Angella knows about this particular night terror of his, has heard his description of those dreaded split eyes and amorphous limbs.

The aberration rears back, revealing a glowing contraption of a magical complexity that instantly baffles him. But that's not what grabs his attention. Plastered against the pulsing heart of the chamber is the body of his once mentor, scars on full display, her mask discarded, her robes worn thin. She looks thin, weak. She's dying, he thinks.

Shadow Weaver blinks her eyes open and grins.