Hordak frowned at the small robot on his work-table and turned it gently with the tip of his finger. It was an orb of white metal, similar in appearance to the spider-drones that served in his army. A sturdy construct that made maximum use of minimal energy. It was, he knew, another masterpiece of engineering for the backwater world he was trapped on and sought to conquer. It was the key to his salvation.
But in the one set of eyes that mattered, those which saw all and knew all, it would still be so much garbage. Perhaps, after everything, his brother would simply reject his message for the ugliness of the messenger. It could be better. It should be better. The signal that would bring order to Etheria and make whole once again the family of the Horde should not be so primitive.
"Useless," he snarled, "useless!" Without thinking, he swept the machine and his tools off the table with a broad swing of his hand. It was a powerful strike, reminiscent of his strength from the dream-like time before his body had betrayed him. Had betrayed Horde Prime.
Too much like it, in fact, as the sudden vice like pain paralyzing his left shoulder. He was outside of his raiment and he glared, vision shivering with pain, as his graying veins pulsed in agony.
"Useless!" His own voice said back to him. Lantern-like yellow eyes swooped down from the ceiling and his Imp landed deftly on the messenger bot, which had rolled a few inches before the gyroscope inside it corrected its roll to stop. The child-like creature snickered and made a game of shoving the bot forward to watch it reroute itself. Hordak braced himself on the table.
At the very least the gyroscope worked, and, as he watched the orb roll, it could be said that it remained undamaged after the fall. He rubbed idly at his shoulder, breathing sharply through his nose as he made his way over. The Imp helpfully leapt aside as its master approached, grinning eagerly up at him. Hordak plucked the orb from the ground; grateful he didn't make it any heavier than necessary.
"It is enough," he said to himself, "it must be enough." Yet the feeling of dread did not leave the pit of his sunken stomach. There was something more than the robot that vexed the Leader of the Horde relentlessly. Something about the very day that seemed too inauspicious. Or too easy. He had been kept awake not by the excitement that an end to his exile should bring, but by anxiety. An increasing sense of certainty that he would never, in what was left of his life, leave the wretched ball of dirt and water that had been his prison for nearly five decades. It was not a fitting end for all the haunting memories.
The desperate, meteoric descent from the atmosphere, cocooned in fire as his pod shed metal like an opening chrysalis. The agonizing year of recovery afterward. The two years that followed that, filled with intrigue and bloodshed to follow, the remains of a civil war amongst the Scorpioni, the first metal foundations of the Fright Zone. Seventeen straight days of war as King Micah threw himself at the gates of his fortress, nearly breaking through far too many times.
The conquests, setbacks, victories, defeats, and the crushing, grinding stalemates that broke them up. The slow decay of his body and with it his hopes of going home.
Could they conclude on a balmy evening, near summer's end, simply because the moons of Etheria were aligning for the first time in fifty years?
"Fool," he snapped to himself, "what are you thinking? Emotions. Useless, distracting emotions." Soon it wouldn't matter. Soon he could plunge into the amniotic fluid and draw himself up, cleansed to his very center, of all of it.
Peace. After fifty years of war Lord Hordak would know peace. That, he decided was worth any route home.
A proximity alert drew him out of his reverie and he shuffled slowly to the front of his lab, briefly resting against the high back of his throne. He spared a glance behind him at the empty halo of metal in the center of his lab and stared longingly at the circle of concrete wall that it framed. He shrugged on a long black cloak, too tired to enter his raiment.
"Soon," he said to the empty stairs and cavernous walls of his throne room, seating himself in his rightful place, "soon."
The doors slid open and Hordak tensed as the criss-crossing green lights of his sanctum suddenly seemed to dim. There was no static to the steady hum of power that entered them. It did not appear to be another of the Fright Zone's irritating brown-outs.
Wretched place, he thought unkindly, a pale forgery of the true Horde. I will be well rid of you. He would level every scrap-metal angle of this place and erect the white steel stronghold Horde Prime deserved.
"My lord," Shadow Weaver said, bowing as she entered, "events proceed on the projected course."
Once, before his exile, Horde Prime had honored him with a summons. Off the shoulder of a serpentine nebula, pink with ionized gases, swirled a vortex of orange light around a perfect circle of darkness; a black hole. Shadow Weaver, small and distant at the foot of his throne's stairs, sat like the embodiment of that memory, swallowing all light.
"The instruments are set," Hordak said, grimacing as his Imp landed on his pained shoulder, "and prepared for midnight exactly. If any adjustments are required, Shadow Weaver, you have precious few hours to change them."
"What we have will work, my lord, I stake every word of knowledge I have on that promise," Shadow Weaver approached like a specter of death, "the alignment will soon flood this planet with raw power the likes of which would blast lesser minds apart. So few Etherians recognize the value of this event."
"Did you expect me to overlook it as well?" Horde Prime had once told him that no true ruler asked questions. They made accusations to be denied or confirmed.
"Forgive me, sire, I state the obvious only with regards to our enemies," she demonstrated a crackle of red light in her hands, "so much power could turn the tide of this war. And yet, our scouts report no movements by the Princess Alliance. The event lasts less than a half-hour. Because of this, they can see no use for it, unlike you."
Fools, Hordak thought, a millisecond of such energy could solve a thousand problems. This planet, so blessed with this elusive energy called magic, needed the firm hand of Hordak and the wise guidance of Horde Prime. He considered the sorceress carefully. She waited patiently for him.
"Tell me honestly," he said at last, "were you disappointed when I ordered all this power siphoned to my lab? You brought this information to me, years ago; on the off-chance I might make use of it. I know you, Shadow Weaver. You do not simply 'suggest' things."
"I am yours to command," she said, the red-jewel in her mask glinted as she bowed again, "it is not my place to question your orders."
"Then I order you to tell me what you wished to do with this power," he growled, leaning forward in his seat. He hated how she tried to feed his ego, like he was some cave-dwelling warlord trying to paint his likeness across a mountainside. He was Hordak, sibling of the Great Horde Prime. A cracked reflection of the True Master of the Universe. He deserved any answer he wished from his subordinates.
And, although magic fascinated him, he had little time to engage in its study outside of purely practical applications. Power was power, however esoteric its rules.
"Since I first read of the event as an acolyte in Mystacoar," Shadow Weaver sighed almost wistfully, "I have asked myself that question, Lord Hordak. Too many possibilities. Too few people willing to entertain the concept. My old teacher, Norwyn 'the Wise' or so he was exalted, actually told me that I should be grateful for such disappointment. 'Limitations wake us from the dark dream of power.' He was full of such clever platitudes."
"What became of this sage? I have never heard reports of him," Hordak searched his mind for any information on his Second-In-Command beyond the little she'd ever cared to share. A further sting to his pride. None kept secrets from Horde Prime but Hordak could not say the same.
Soon. Soon I will be free of these concerns.
"He died," Shadow Weaver said casually, "quite hideously. I suppose he must've been happy, at last, to fully understand his own limitations." Only the slight narrowing of her eyes gave her statement any humor. Although, Hordak considered it could simply be joy.
"Then he is of no concern to me," Hordak said, "our living enemies, however, continue to defy us. I've had word that all of our forward positions are on high-alert and prepared in case, against your suspicions, our foes choose to take advantage of the alignment. Has Force Captain Catra returned?" Shadow Weaver's shoulders tensed in a way that was reassuring to see. For all her evident power, she remained the same predictable woman.
"She has," Shadow Weaver didn't hide her contempt, "with all her soldiers and none of their equipment. My lord, I must raise my protests about her again-"
"You are mine to command," Hordak said steadily, "it is not your place to question my orders. Is that not what you said?" He smirked as she bowed in answer. "We will consider a suitable punishment for the troops after the alignment."
"With regards to 'after' the alignment, sire," Shadow Weaver's eyes searched him, "how do we prepare for the arrival of our brethren?" Hordak could have laughed at that. 'Brethren'. Shadow Weaver devoured every scrap of information Hordak tossed her way. Space. The true Horde. The limitless number of worlds stretched across the long-forgotten stars. She understood none of it, yet already she spoke of herself as a part of the family.
"I will keep my own counsel on that regard," Hordak said, "and on that note, you are dismissed. Alert those within the Fright Zone to cease all non-essential traffic. We will not waste any time recovering from unexpected consequences." Shadow Weaver bowed low.
"I leave then, to preform this service," she said, "and thank you for the opportunity, mighty one. We were lost before you brought enlightenment to this world." Hordak bared his teeth when she turned away and reminded himself that Shadow Weaver, while many things, was not a fool.
"You are experiencing the effects of the alignment now, are you not?" He asked suddenly. "Describe them."
"Like a hurricane is trying to rip me apart from the inside," Shadow Weaver looked back with her dead eyes, "but I can control it. I wonder if the same can be said for the young princesses."
"They are not," Hordak said with a wave of his hand, "of concern at this point."
Perhaps never again, he thought. If it worked. If. Hope, another useless emotion, swelled in his chest as he turned the messenger bot in his hand. It looked like a small planet in his thin-fingered grasp.
An inauspicious key, perhaps. But he resolved once again to do anything to unlock the prison of Despondos and set himself free. Woe to those who would defy him.
"That's it!" New-Girl jumped nervously into the air and dropped her spear as the door to Princess Mermista's quarters slammed open. The Princess looked absolutely furious even as a lank strand of wet hair swayed in front of her face. "The toilet water just chased me around my room. I need to swim! Now !" Behind her, the room's complimentary waterfall fountain had begun to sneakily change course and overflow its basin as well.
This, at last, explained why she hadn't left her room all day.
Mermista turned an expectant look on New-Girl. Four months ago, she had been a farmgirl called Beatrice of Alwyn before she'd rushed off to join the Rebellion. Now a princess was looking at her, expecting her to do something. The girl flushed enough to make her freckles vanish as she sheepishly recovered her spear. Mern gave his comrade a smile and a wink before inclining his head to their irate charge.
"The castle is yours, Princess, and we would be happy to show you to the pool our guards use for training," he said. Mermista grimaced as she moved her hair out of her face.
"No, I said I need to swim ," she repeated, "a pool isn't gonna cut it. Do you guys have anything deeper than that lake outside?" Mern, normally unflappable, shook his head slowly. "Ugh, fine. It'll have to do."
She spun, bathrobe billowing around the turquoise sweats and under-shirt she used as pajamas. The guards hurried after her and cried out as she ran for the nearest balcony at break-neck speed. With practiced grace, the Princess leapt onto the balustrade, shrugged off of her bathrobe, twined her hands overhead in a diver's pose, and launched herself into open air.
"Princess!" New-Girl squeaked, slamming into the white-stone balustrade with a metal crash. She had enough time to admire the stunning pike position Mermista struck before she spiraled into a perfect dive hundreds of feet down towards the surface of Bright-Moon Lake. "We-We only had ten minutes left on our shift!"
There was no audible splash as the Princess hit the distant, moonlight surface, and but a ripple sprang out that seemed far too wide. And, she might've been wrong, but the sudden churning of the water couldn't be right either.
"New-Girl, get back!" Mern grabbed her cloak and wrench her back inside. Preceded with a rumble that felt like a leviathan rolling in its sleep, a column of water burst back up to stand nearly as tall as the cliffs, wall, and tower of Bright-Moon Castle put together. Mermista reclined languidly on the roiling top of it, and sighed heavily and nodded at New-Girl.
"So, hey!" She had to yell over the roar of the water under her. "Could you be an absolute doll and go grab the Mer-Mystery novel that's in a plastic baggie? Like leave it in the baggie, I mean, just bring the whole thing down to the shore. And there's a box of salt-water taffy near it, bring two blue ones and take a kind you like for yourself. Thank you ." New-Girl nodded dumbly.
Down below, the walls and courtyard filled with castle staff and guardsmen. The refugee camp along the main-shore seethed with activity. Captain Lima was going to yell at them for this, New-Girl just knew it.
"Bet Lysander and Ksana don't have to deal with this," she mumbled. Mern nodded.
"Yeah, they just gotta deal with that," he pointed, eyes growing huge, at a titanic dandelion erupting from the direction of their barracks. The thousands of people below were turning like spectators at a tennis-match between two amazing scenes, unable to choose a miracle to watch.
Ksana roared triumphantly as she hewed another thick branch down with her two-handed hanger sword. She flexed vainly and shot Lysander an evil grin. Her three-eyed friend was quietly working a thin, green vine with a small knife.
"Lysander he's our man," Ksana sang like a cheerleader, grin growing, "if he can't do it… well that's just sad, cuz I'm pretty sure a baby can. Why don't you just take a seat? Witness 'The Event' as she happens."
"It's our responsibility," Lysander said, not rising to the jibes, "after all, we forgot about the vegetable garden and the Princess trusted us." Ksana hummed thoughtfully as she cleaved through another tomato plant stem thick as a tree trunk.
"You could just take a load off. I need a sounding board for some of my new pick-up lines. Whole lotta new Rebels coming into Bright-Moon these days. All these Plumerians and folks from Salineas get their assignments here and ship out. Know what that means?" She winked.
"Aside from a few unlucky souls, most of them will be spared your demeaning flirtations? " Lysander said, working the vine carefully.
"Yeah, I know, stinks for them," she said with a shrug then brightened, "Oh! I just thought of a good one! 'Shipping out tomorrow, soldier? Then this is your last night to visit 'The Event'." She hefted her sword high and took aim at the center mass of vines. "How's bout this one? 'You an artillery captain, girl, cuz I see you inspecting these big guns-"
The wall of vines collapsed into a sad heap and her swing hit air. Ksana 'The Event' stumbled forward with a squeak. Lysander said nothing but he smiled as he twirled the cut vine in his fingers.
"I wouldn't open with it," he shrugged. Further bickering died as the sound of deep sobs broke through the thick jungle their vegetable garden had grown into. Instincts flared and the guards battered aside the brush until they came to the root of the big dandelion. Princess Perfuma looked up from a throne of crabgrass, lip quivering with emotion.
"I just thought I'd weed your garden! You two have been so nice and helpful. I wanted to repay you," she hiccupped, "I promise I didn't do this on purpose. You must hate me now!"
"No," Ksana said awkwardly, scratching the base of one horn, "no-no-no! We get it, Princess, we get it. It's…gonna be ok." The Plumerian jumped from her seat and wrapped the big woman in a tight, weepy hug.
"Oh, you're such a good person," she said into the pauldron on Ksana's shoulder, "I could read your energy right away." Ksana offered her an awkward pat on the back and then jolted as thin tendrils crept around her bare knees. More vines weaved like spider-webs around her and the Princess, tying them tightly together.
"Got any more pick-up lines? We'll be here a while." Lysander voice was so smug she could've strangled him. Especially when Perfuma glanced up, noticed the predicament, and burst into a fresh round of blubbery apologies.
Captain Lima is gonna yell at us. She thought with a frown.
Adora used both hands to lift her foot out of the six-inch depression it left in the path along the Dryl mountain range. Overhead, the skies roiled with black thunderheads. That must've been the tingling sensation in her…everything. Teeth, toes, and ends of her hair. She felt electric.
"Just transform," Glimmer said, foot moving in a blur of motion, "I've scouted ahead like twenty times and cuz Bow won't let me go further-"
"Five miles ahead is enough," the archer hissed, "and keep your voice down. Avalanche area."
"Whatever," Glimmer whispered, "c'mon, Adora, just turn into She-Ra. Maybe that'll even things out."
"Well-" Adora began, reaching for the golden hilt peeking over her left shoulder. Bow pouted and waved her hand away.
"No," he said, "we agreed no 'She-Ra' until we're certain you won't just…fall right through to the planet's core or something. Just…oh, I got it. Tip-toes. Use your tip-toes."
"No way, that'll take forever," Glimmer said, "lemme teleport-"
"Glimmer," Bow said sternly, "we shouldn't rush her." Glimmer stomped her foot and pouted. "C'mon, Adora, tip-toes." Adora nodded and gathered up her courage.
You got this! You got this! She told herself. She stepped forward gingerly and shrieked as her angled foot slid into solid rock like a spear into bubble-bath foam.
"That's it," she held up her sword, "For the Honor-" Bow shot her a worried look and she whispered- "…of Grayskull."
This was different. It felt different. It felt great.
She danced in place, giggling as her feet stayed firmly atop the ground rather than punching through it. But she could feel the power to shatter it with a single toe welling up in her, running along her like a current of electricity along a lightning-rod. She-Ra felt the whole planet under her foot like it was another part of her body waiting to be flexed.
"Dryl is still a ways off," Bow said, "the tracker puts our ETA at like 1AM. You going She-Ra the whole rest of the way?" The Princess of Power nodded as she stretched.
"Oh, yeah. I don't know what it is but I feel just," she made a fist, "so pumped! Like I could bench-press a building. Yeah! Let's do this! Let's get Princess Entrapta in the Alliance!" She held her hand to Gimmer. Glimmer teleported to make up for height and high-fived her.
"Alright," she beamed, "that's what I like to hear. Princess Alliance!"
"Yeah! Princess Alliance!" She-Ra shouted. Bow made a quick effort to shush her.
"Yeah!" Glimmer barked over him. "So ready for this!"
"Yeah! Super ready!" She-Ra bellowed.
"Guys, avalanches," Bow squeaked.
"Yeah," She-Ra screamed enthusiastically, "avalanches!" Her voice echoed across the world and, as a rebuttal, a large rock came shattering onto the path several feet from them.
" Inside voices ," Bow said, eyes huge.
"Yeah," She-Ra whispered, "inside voices!" Glimmer teleported onto broad, impossibly strong shoulders and pawed at hair that glowed like it was spun from gold. She-Ra struck a
"Don't want to say 'I was right'," she hummed, "but…I was right." Her fingers dipped down to a marble-hard bicep. "Say, are you, like, extra strong today or something?"
"No," She-Ra grinned, "thank goodness. I feel in control now, that was getting scary for a second."
"Glad you're on our side," Glimmer noogied her friend with both fists.
She-Ra paused at that and felt the rush of emotions that came from the part of her that was purely Adora. A maelstrom of feelings that all seemed to center around choosing between a girl with mis-matched eyes and the entire world.
Overhead the thunder lashed the air but the storm refused to break.
Catra glared at the ceiling of her spacious Force Captain quarters. She hated everything. She hated the quiet of the large, lonely room that she'd once dreamed of whenever Lonnie snored. She hated that Scorpia had hounded her all the way back to her stupid room babbling about going to meet her mom.
"To 'celebrate' the mission," she mimicked to herself, in an appropriately mocking voice, "whatever that means." She hated the idea of having to see two people who cared about each other…caring about each other. She'd been inundated with it for the last three days.
She nearly bit Rogelio's head off for hanging by Kyle's side the whole march home. She rolled over and groaned into the mattress, a cloud of softness when compared to the bunks.
"Ugh, why did I make Rogelio take rear-guard just to mess with them? If I don't cool it with the whip-cracking, they'll start to think I care what they do . "
She headbutted the mattress.
"And now I am talking to myself. Why is everything…everything!" She curled up on her side and stared at a blank space on the wall. She hated it. She hated how uniformly empty it was. Like no-one had ever lived here before even though unnamed dozens of Force Captains must have.
"I'll just be alone," she murmured, "plenty of people do that. Like Lord Hordak. He's a loner." She smiled and sat herself up. "Duh, Catra, of course this is a good thing. Strong people don't need anybody. I mean, you didn't even want to be a Force Captain before she left. You never got to see or do anything!"
She folded her arms behind her head and lay back down. She gave the ceiling a smug, triumphant smile.
"And just think. You've been to Salineas, the Whispering Wood, Thaymor, Plumeria," her voice soured all at once, "and got your butt kicked every time. And then you come back to your room and keep talking to yourself! Argh!" She hopped off the bed and unsheathed her claws. She needed to shred something. She turned her ire on the stupid, too-soft pillows that had come with the room.
"Stupid Adora," she disemboweled one pillow of all its fluff. "Stupid Scorpia and Scorpia's mom." She dug her fangs in another one, tasting the thread-count.
"Stupid… stupid pillows!" She tried to kick the last one clear across the room and dug her foot-claws fully into it. She hopped on one foot, hissing in rage, until her legs hit the bed and she slumped back on it. The top of her head smacked the far wall.
"Ow!" She yelped, digging her fingers into her messy mane, "Ow-ow-ow! Stupid!" She blinked away a few tears of pain, hating the fact that they'd leave marks in her fur.
"This is what I want," she shouted to the empty room, "I want to be alone. I am happy being alone! So everybody better just leave me alone!" She folded her arms, turned up her nose, and listened.
The empty room offered no response.
"Good," she snapped, turning over and curling up on the mattress, "you all better keep it that way. Or else."
Shadow Weaver examined the strange, lightning-rod structure that spiked up from the floor before her. Shortly, she would pour power into the likes of which had not been seen in half a century. The preparations were complete and the last hour before midnight began its slow death. Shadow Weaver searched once more through the old tomes spread across the shining black-stone slab that served as an arcane workspace.
Old texts from her days in Mystacoar, a few moldering scrolls of forbidden knowledge, and no fewer than three of her own writings on the nature of dark power. The Spell of Obtainment had been the beginning, and tonight's work would further the creation of something truly unique.
And, most importantly, it would return her greatest project to their natural place at her side.
Shadow Weaver retrieved her final tool, a long splinter of shining red gemstone the size and shape of a thin dagger. That had been hardest to retrieve of all her items. The Black Garnet was nearly indestructible.
But only nearly.
The shard was dead now that it was separated from the runestone and the Black Garnet replenished itself almost immediately, but even dead things had power, when turned to the right purpose.
She drifted to the Mage-Apprentice Primer that, once upon a time, had been given to a raven-haired little girl with bright-eyes named Light-Spinner. She turned to the index and searched out the exact number for the page about basics of magical transference. She paused at a hasty, zig-zagging rip that nearly severed it from the book.
"How did that happen?" She wondered aloud and paused in surprise as she remembered. A six-year-old girl trying her best to stand still, at parade rest, and looking everywhere but up at her.
"I am waiting for an answer, Cadet," Shadow Weaver said, "and I do not wish to wait long. How did this happen? Was this Catra's doing? Is that why you're so reluctant?" The little pony-tail whipped the air as the girl shook her head.
"No," she launched into a breathless explanation, eyes squeezing shut, "it was me! I did it. Catra wasn't here, she was napping back in the barracks and I didn't want to wake her so I came here cuz you said I could always come see you if you weren't busy but the door was open and you weren't here and there was a book-"
"Adora," Shadow Weaver snapped, "I will be cross no matter what you say, but I will become very unhappyif you do not open your eyes and look at me! Do you still want to be a Force Captain someday?" She smiled under her mask at the hard, determined nod Adora gave her. "Then you will face things far more terrifying than me. Now. What did you do?"
"It was an accident!" Shadow Weaver leaned down and narrowed her eyes.
"I did not ask that, Adora, and I do not care about your reasons. Results. Those are the only things that matter. This is a very old book that I cannot replace easily. You have damaged it. Now look me in the eyes and tell me what happened."
"I just tried…I turned the page and it ripped," she said, "I didn't touch it after that. I waited for you."
"Very good," Shadow Weaver said, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder, "that was very good of you to do, Adora, and it's better that you told me right away." The girl smiled. "However…" her smile dropped, "you know there are consequences now. What do you think should happen?"
"I should fix it? With tape?" Shadow Weaver shook her head. "Can I find you a new one?" She stifled a laugh at that, imagining the tiny girl sneaking into Mystacoar. "I…I don't know then."
"Well I think-"
"I just wanted to be like you!" Adora squeezed her eyes shut and squeaked out. Shadow Weaver normally hated interruptions, but as the words registered she felt herself stop.
"I know reasons don't matter," the little girl said, meeting her eyes, "but I just wanted to see if I could do magic like you do!" Adora resolutely looked up at her, unfailing if not unafraid.
"Then I know your punishment," Shadow Weaver said at last after a long moment of thought, "you will lose one hour of your evening Free-Period each week and spend it here, with me." Blue eyes sparkled with wonder. "Let us begin with something easy for now, while I have time." The girl saluted and tried not to grin too wide.
The little corner of the room still had the stool Adora had used as a child, taking in lesson after lesson on Thaumaturgy. But that first time, Shadow Weaver recalled, she had opened the book on the stone slab, as it was now, and stood over Adora's shoulder, long robed arms on either side of her, gently turning each page so Adora would not rip them by accident.
Shadow Weaver heard something drip to the floor and realized she'd squeezed the shard of the Black Garnet enough to draw blood. She sealed the cut with a spell and hardly felt anything.
In his lab, at the heart of the Fright Zone, Hordak finished the circuit that would draw power from the distant Chambers of the Black Garnet directly to the machine before him.
"Finally," Hordak whispered in his lab, watching the moons finish sliding into place on his screen. He sent a wordless alert to Shadow Weaver and felt himself fall fully into sheer, blind hope. His weak body shuddered with a heavy breath.
"It ends. At last, it ends."
As controlled chaos reigned below her, Queen Angella watched the towering moons high overhead. She smiled sadly at the picture of Micah she kept by her bedside.
"If she were here," Angella said, "if she understood what this was, I just know she'd run off and try to level the Fright Zone by herself. She has too much of you in her, Micah." She felt the alignment's power run to her from the Moonstone, urging her to fly. She controlled herself, as she never had throughout all the alignments before this one.
"That's what I love about our daughter," she whispered, "that's what I can't risk. She's so young. So much power for someone so young."
"Alert," the subroutine chimed, "alert. Commencing energy burn."
"Upon completion," Light Hope said, watching the alignment from her room within the Crystal Castle, "delete this subroutine." For better or worse, this would be Etheria's last alignment. Adora was the key. The sword was meant for Adora. Light-Hope would fulfill her mission. And she would make certain Adora fulfilled hers.
"I shall give you all the power you could want, Lord Hordak," Shadow Weaver whispered to the Black Garnet, "there is more than enough for both of our purposes." The runestone was volcanic with red light as power raced out of the earth and down from the empty sky all at once. She touched one hand to the Garnet.
The power was beyond all comprehension.
Her lifetime of hardship melted from her mind before its unendurable heat. Every time her classmates in Mystacoar had whispered behind her back meant nothing. Head Sorcerer Norwyn's indictments and weak, empty platitudes meant nothing. The face of Micah, young and afraid one moment, hard and defiant the next, meant nothing.
Hordak meant nothing. Etheria meant nothing.
There was only power.
It did not defy her or shirk from her in terror. It rushed into her, eager as a child running to her mother, and filled her instantly. She strained against the forces, already trying to burst out and move in the form of a thousand dark spells. It wanted to be wielded.
"A-Adora," she ground out to herself, "you are doing this for Adora! Be strong for Adora!" Her free hand trembled against a pull stronger than gravity itself and scraped her fingertips against the lightning-rod
A path opened and the power rushed eagerly into it. All save for a fraction, though a fraction the size and depth of an ocean, which coalesced in the gem atop her mask.
"This," Shadow Weaver said, awe tingeing her voice, "is true power." She could feel it winding like the body of a great snake, up from the center of the world and swirling inside Lord Hordak's portal machine. She truly did wish him luck, even if it was beside the point.
"This is for Adora," Shadow Weaver sighed. "For your Adora. "
The portal's humming leapt into a high-pitched whine. The little spy fled off Hordak's shoulder and scrambled for a hidden place to cower. The Leader of the Horde dug in his armored heels against a steady, pulling sensation and lifted his messenger orb in offering.
"Brother," he said into it, red eyes narrowed in concentration, "I await you at the coordinates carried by this machine. There is power in this place that I have found." Red lightning bathed the room and burst the overhead lights. "Such power. In need of your strong hand to guide it. I have done as you taught me. It must be enough."
A light began to circle the ring of the portal machine. Reality and time stirred into a solid wall of unimaginable colors. Hordak, who had seen more than anyone on the backwater planet, could not put a name to a single one of them.
But he knew their meaning, and nervous joy filled his heart.
"If I perish before we meet again, brother," his voice strained against the outpouring of power, pushing and pulling him all at once, "know that I…" A lightning bolt scorched the walls. Hordak's grip pierced a concrete pillar with the fingers of his other hand as he leveraged himself.
"There was never a prouder sibling in existence! I was honored to be your brother! It was everything to me!" The Leader of the Horde loosened his grip on the messenger-ball. It sailed across the lab like it was made of paper, shimmering as it soared to the portal.
It did not sink or pass through the wall of light. It simply trembled for a moment in one space, and then existed in the next. A few moments, that was all it would take, and Horde Prime would know where to look. He'd know where to find his little brother.
Across time and space, winging gently through the hot air above the badlands, a falcon dived suddenly and pivoted towards the old gray castle. Something was happening, somewhere in the depths of space, that had happened before and brought terrible power crashing into the dead world.
It dulled years of animal sharpness and allowed, for a moment, her true mind to return to the surface in brief bursts of confused thoughts.
Adora! The bird's mind was flooded with an old voice she couldn't recognize as her own thoughts. She reached out to someone long gone. Adora! Duncan, do you hear me? Something is here. Its coming for Adora…no, no it took her! It already took her! What more does it want now?
The boy. It was after the boy.
She flew hard, crying out to the dead, forgotten world with anguish and urgency. Below her time shifted and jumped, her memories began to fight for space like rabid animals. Blasted sand became lush, violet grass and withered in heartbeat. The dry bones and black armor jumped up into two armies of living warriors, crashing into each other.
"Eternia!" Both sides screamed at each other. "For Eternia!"
The castle shimmered before her as she soared towards it and flashed its history before her eyes. Empty and abandoned and crumbling. Filled with life and sound and laughter. Withered by peace. Ravaged by war. A hut of stone.
A circle of earth inside a bottomless ring, where a congregation of great bird-headed figures huddled close. The falcon could hear their whispers.
Adora! She called to them. You have to save her, they're stealing Adora! The figures did not heed her.
The falcon nearly crashed into the courtyard but banked hard at the last possible second. She soared through halls that hung empty around one corner and became crowded in the next. The figures faded as she flew through them, until one did not.
"Ah!" The child cried out, sitting heavily from the impact, "ah?" The falcon saw the sword in their hand.
Adora! She tried to embrace them and ended up buffeting the startled little thing with her wingspan. You're safe! Wait, no. I thought…no, no! We must go! Her talons gripped the purple hood tightly and yanked.
The child struggled all the way through the halls, the little green cub yowling the whole while. The sword clanked on the flagstones. At last, she pulled the strange parade of figures into the abandoned workroom where the Jewel and the stone door took center stage. The falcon managed to herd the child inside with his pet. As she hopped on the floor, blocking his exit, time unwound before her.
A woman hummed quietly to herself as she scribbled at a metal desk, reclining slightly in a chair held up on four wheels. She had hair sweeping down her left shoulder, like a waterfall of gold, from a side cut. The falcon's heart twisted at the sight of her and half-remembered who she was and why she hurt to look at.
"Oh, my love," the woman sang under her breath, smiling , "oh, it was a funny little thing. It was a funny, funny little thing." She glanced up and smiled as a man stepped into the room, looking every inch the domestic servant but carrying himself with an undeniable authority. The woman's electric blue eyes twinkled as she chewed the end of her pencil. "Could be the hormones...but something about the apron is just doing it for me." She sat up at the sight of the steaming bowl balanced carefully on a tray. " Soup! Gimme, gimme. Did you scrounge up any crackers, sweetness?" The man produced a plastic sheaf. "Oh my god, I love you so much."
"What's this?" The man looked over the blueprints she handed off to him, clearing a space for her lunch. "I thought you were working on the Door to All Worlds, today?" He nodded at the stone door and the pink jewel. "Finally meet your match?"
"Meber-in-ur-libe," the woman spewed cracker crumbs as she spoke, "I just needed a break." The man turned the blueprint, displaying a two-headed dragon, and arched an eyebrow. The woman reached out and tugged playfully at the long plait of red hair that wound over his shoulder to hang down by his waist. "I have an explanation for that. If we can build a reliable android we could send it into the double-dragon's dens and find out why their population is decreasing. Saving them from extinction could be a huge win for us with the Imperial Senate. They'd see our work is doing something."
"I think instantaneous transportation through space and time is more their hope," the man said, rubbing at his short, red beard. The woman tipped the bowl back, draining it in short order, while she glared at the stone door and the jewel.
"Please. Probably not in our lifetimes. You'd think galactic domination through normal means would be enough-Oh!" She rolled her seat back from her desk and placed a hand on her belly. She was pregnant and well into her third trimester. Her belly showed like a hill through her gray t-shirt. "Someone likes the soup!" She grabbed the man's free hand and clasped it to her stomach and smiled at him with pure fondness. "Or maybe they know daddy's visiting." She winced. "Ow. That was my bladder, babies, please stop kicking there."
"Bathroom?" The man grinned, green-eyes twinkling.
"Yes," the woman sighed, " again. Help me up?" She shrieked with laughter when he pulled the desk chair out from the table and pushed it along on its small plastic wheels. "Slowly! Wires are everywhere." She crossed her ankles and tucked them out of the way. The falcon watched them vanish with the past. In their place appeared a small, dirty child with a sword on his back.
"Adora?" the falcon asked. The child spun, showing eyes huge with amazement at hearing the falcon speak. He was tinged pink with the sudden blazing light of the gemstone and the radiant glow in the seam of the stone door.
No. Adora was lost. And this one had to stay, she remembered that much. He had to. Alone if need be until…until…until something could happen. The falcon couldn't remember. Alone. He was such a lonely child, she knew that somewhere in her fading mind.
And if she faded completely? Who would he have then?
The falcon swept herself into the air and grasped the seam of the stone door, it shuddered open and the room lit up like she'd opened an entrance to the heart of a sun.
"Go!" she screamed. Other worlds. Other places. Somewhere far away from here. The magic that burst through the stone door's threshold revived enough of her mind for her to see that she was doing the right thing. Her amber eyes flashed and the boy cried out, rubbing at his eyes, as a flood of information activated in the back of his mind.
You will learn. Slowly. It will be a long fight, but I know you can do it. Little one, you must be strong! You must be brave. Find her and you won't have to be alone anymore.
The child hid in his hood and shook his head in fearful protest. He turned and rushed for the door that led back out, his sword abandoned. Something shimmered beneath the falcon and appeared through the magic doorway with a mechanical warble. It raced forward along the ground and crashed into the door by the boy's feet. He shrieked and threw himself at the sword, then reached one hand out to snatch his cub from where it cowered in fear under a table.
"By the Power of Greyskull!" The room filled with power and noise. Then it filled with a wordless, guttural war cry. A huge figure stood, heedless of the tiger cub trying to maul its arm in fear. He turned and skewered the foreign object, a ball of white metal, on the very tip of his sword.
"Go!" The falcon cried again. The warrior rushed forward and into the light.
Find her, the falcon thought alone in the old gray castle, find Adora.
The boy was more terrified. More than even when the skull had started talking to him. He, the Other One, and his cub were trapped in place by a universe of light and noise, yet he could feel them hurtling at incredible speeds towards something. Something far away, in ways he couldn't understand.
Where they were going, he hadn't even the bravery to guess. He held on and tried to remember that the Other One would protect him.