Author's Note: Well, y'all, I wish I had better excuses for why it's taken me so long to post another chapter. I suppose all I can say is that the last year was really hard for me, but I've never once abandoned this story. So please forgive me that I've taken so long to post. Since it's taken me so long to post this, I thought I'd give the name of my next chapter as a peace offering. It's called: "All Day Permanent Red." Thank you for your patience and I sincerely hope you enjoy this new chapter.
Chapter 25: The Killing
Day 1
Adora sighed and looked around. She held a cup of tea and the pleasant feeling of contentment warmed her chest. Stacks of broken junk and pots lined the walls; a fire burned dimly in the room's fireplace. She took another sip of her tea and relished the feeling of just…sitting.
A high whistle began right outside the door and Adora watched a short, old woman hobble in through the lichen door. Grandmotherly was the right word for this little lady. She reminded her a bit of her own mom, back on Etheria.
Back on Etheria. She put the cup down. Where was she exactly? This didn't look like Etheria.
"You've had a hard life, haven't you?" The old woman said, not unkindly.
Probably she should've been more careful, more guarded. Lied. Instead, Adora said, "I guess so." A pause. "But other parts have been wonderful."
The woman nodded and moved closer before patting Adora's arm with her own gnarled hand. "The good days don't erase the bad ones." Adora opened her mouth to disagree but then thought better of it. Was she wrong?
The woman opened her other hand, and the Sword of Light materialized in all its flaming glory. Red flames licked up the sides of the blade; Adora could feel its heat lapping at her face. She looked between the blade and the woman and back again. She knew the familiar feeling of missing a cue. This woman was trying to tell her something, she could see it in the intensity of her gaze. But what?
"How did you get the Sword of—?"
"Adora," the woman whispered, "This is the one that kills you." The fire went out completely, with not even a spark remaining. Carefully, the woman rotated the hilt in her hand and extended it towards Adora. She reached out but stopped mere inches away from taking the sword. This was not her sword. This was not her destiny.
"Adora," the woman said again,"Wake up."
She blinked. "What?"
Adora felt the hunger first, like she hadn't eaten in days. Then the pain in her head, like someone had drilled deep into her skull. She cracked open her eyes and slammed them shut again when the bright light set her aching head ablaze. She felt a horrible side-to-side rhythmic motion that lifted her empty stomach upwards and nearly out. She slipped to the side of whatever she was sitting on and had no strength to recover.
"Adora!"
She tumbled sideways and forever downwards.
"Wake up," someone said close to her face. She remembered this voice, always would, no matter what. She tried to say something back but it just came out as a pitiful cough.
"Well, I guess we're setting up camp here." Another voice said. She cracked open her eyes and watched Brick unravel a sleeping pad. Brick.
"Where are we?" Adora managed to get out of her dry and gritty mouth.
"Well you just fell off a horse and as far as I can tell we're bumfuck nowhere on this COMPLETE SHITHOLE OF A PLANET," Brick bellowed, sending several birds airborne from a nearby tree.
"And where exactly is this complete shithole of a planet?" Adora coughed out.
"Eternia."
At that, Adora tried to sit up but a hand on her chest kept her flat on her back. "Don't move around too much. You've been out for a few hours and you've used up a lot of energy."
"Hours? What happened?"
"Listen, Adora," Brick said, cutting in. "I love you and I love self-improvement but for fuck's sake, take a fucking yoga class or group therapy or something. You're not getting fixed on Eternia. Whatever you're looking for just isn't here."
"…what am I looking for?" Adora said. Brick snorted, annoyed.
"Leave her alone," Glimmer warned, "Black magic makes people confused."
"Black magic?" This time, Adora managed to sit up and got caught up in something—someone—else. A hand on her chest and another on her back steadied her. She looked over and caught the gaze of two mismatched eyes. She leaned into her wife and sighed. Warmth and safety. That was the thing missing and now found. "Who was using black magic? That stuff is incredibly dangerous."
Brick let out a humorless laugh. "You, dumbass. You—"
"Brick!" Bow yelled, causing everyone's eyes to widen. Had Bow ever yelled before? "Why don't you find some firewood?"
The young man's jaw tensed but he simply nodded at his father and walked towards some nearby shrubs. Sunny looked between Bow and Brick before scampering after Brick. Both Glimmer and Bow exchanged a look before dismounting their horses and coming closer.
"How are you feeling?" Catra murmured.
"My fucking head," Adora said, rubbing at her temples, "Spirits, it feels like someone took a sledgehammer to it."
Gently, Bow said, "You were using black magic. I've heard it can give you wicked headaches."
"I didn't even know you knew black magic," Glimmer said.
"Well..." Adora looked around at all their concerned faces. She'd told them sparse and curated details from her time hunting Jorah. "I do know it. But I try not to use it. And here's one reason why." She shut her eyes, hoping less light might make the pounding in her head dull.
"What are the other reasons?" Glimmer asked. Bow shot her a look and she immediately looked guilty. "Not that we have to talk about it now, of course."
"It's insanely powerful, but it'll eat you up. It loves horrible memories and your darkest thoughts. Everything about it needs some part of you to work. That's a lot to carry. And you carry it forever. That sort of corruption never leaves you."
"...But other than that, it's great?" Glimmer asked, earning a pained chuckle from Adora.
"Other than that…" Adora said before yawning. Exhaustion layered over her like a leaden weight, pinned her limbs to the ground. She hadn't felt exhaustion like this in years. "I'm so tired."
"Then sleep," Catra said, "We'll protect you." Adora, knowing her wife's words to be true, closed her eyes. It must've been a quick, dreamless sleep because a moment later she felt Catra's arms still wrapped around her.
"Thanks for keeping me safe," Adora whispered, "I needed that badly."
"Sure thing."
Adora bolted upright and jumped away from those once loving arms. She crawled on her hands and knees for a few strides before turning around. "Evangeline? I thought you were–"
"Yes, yes, the wife," Evangeline said, rolling her eyes, "Kitty or whatever."
"Catra," Adora said, narrowing her eyes.
"Yes, of course, Catra." The Queen grinned before adding, "You know I never pinned you as liking the fuzzy girls, but I guess we all have our things."
"Excuse me?" Adora rose to her feet, a newfound strength making this movement effortless. Too effortless. She looked around the misty forest. No Bow, no Glimmer, no Brick, no Catra. Where were they? She looked at the trees again, this time closer. They seemed almost..painted? A dream, then.
She turned back to Evangeline who still sat on the forest floor and watched with a look of slight amusement. "You know, I like this about you. You always defend her. You sort of hover around her with this sort of nervousness I find endearing. Like you're always ready for someone to hurt her. But I suspect you'd never let that happen."
Adora clenched her fists. "What do you want?"
"You love her so much, Adora. I see it, I can feel it. So why didn't you tell her?"
"Tell her what?"
The smile evaporated from the Queen's face. "Don't act like I'm fucking stupid. I saw the expression on your face when I asked about Shadow Weaver. You've never told anyone what she did to you, have you? Why is that, do you think?"
"Let me out of this dream. Please."
"I get this is hard to talk about, so I'll go first," Evangeline said. She took a moment to look down before making eye contact again. "I love my wife. She's everything I ever wanted. No one's perfect. But she might be the exception." A small smile flitted across her face before fading. "And I never told her what happened to me, either. Why is that, I've wondered." She sighed and ran a hand over her face. "She came from a royal family. She was a princess and looked the part. And I was some nobody that fate just happened to sink its claws into. I went to that…academy and trained to be a soldier. She had private tutors and if anyone laid a hand on her, they'd lose the hand. We were so different, you know? I don't think she would've understood what that school was like. So I never told her. But you and Catra, now that is a whole different story, isn't it? She was there with you, right? In the Horde?"
Adora took a step forward and growled, "Let me out of this dream. Right now."
"Like I control this shit? Trust me, after the mess you made in my castle, I would've appreciated some dream time not thinking about you. But here we are."
Against her better judgment, Adora asked, "What happened? After we left?"
"You mean after you released the God of Death and all his little creatures? What the fuck do you think happened? Chaos, destruction." She tensed her jaw. "Good people dead."
"And I'm sorry about that, I really am, but you were the one keeping gods tethered in your basement with some of the worst black magic I've ever seen."
Evangeline sprung to her feet and closed the gap between them with two long strides. They stood face-to-face and inches apart. "I had no fucking idea any of that was happening in the castle."
"Oh ya? So you just have no control over your castle and people just do whatever the fuck they want? Aren't you the fucking Queen?" Adora asked, "Or were you messing with forces beyond your control? Both options don't sound very good, do they, Evangeline?"
"Oh, save the fucking lecture. I'm not some insolent apprentice that's stolen a ration."
"You're right, you're stupider if you were fucking around with black magic. Do you know how long it took me to master it? Years and years. And I still would never have done what you did. Keeping the God of Death contained with those weak tethers has got to be the dumbest idea I've ever heard. I mean are you fucking stupid? Or do you just have a death wish?" Adora practically yelled.
She expected Evangeline to yell louder and stick a finger in her face, but she just wandered over to a nearby rock and sat down. She looked at Adora, then past her, before tears began to run down her face.
"I didn't mean—"
"No," Evangeline interrupted, "You're right. It was stupid. And desperate. I shouldn't have done it. But I'd do it again. I'd have more of a plan, sure. But I'd do it again.
Adora shook her head. "What? Why?"
"Haven't you ever lost someone you can't replace?"
Adora opened her mouth to answer but the scene shifted into a blend of color. She blinked once, twice, and suddenly Catra was there, above her. "You okay? You were mumbling in your sleep."
"Ya, I'm okay. I was just talking to–" Adora stopped, gulped. These dreams between her and Evangeline hadn't been well-received by her friends. Understandably so. But still, it felt like a betrayal to keep having these night time excursions, even when she had no control. She sat up and added, "I was talking to Evangeline. She said a lot of people died back at the castle."
"That sounds like her fucking problem," Glimmer said, "She was the one keeping that god in her basement."
"That's what I said." The annoyance in her own voice seemed to resuscitate her headache and it came on again as a steady pounding.
Catra held up a canteen. "You should drink something. That might help." Adora accepted her offer and gulped water down.
She didn't quite realize how thirsty she'd been, she didn't quite realize how utterly human she was right now. She-Ra didn't get headaches and she didn't feel thirst. It was her mortal body, then, that had seemingly taken the brunt of the black magic. Had that peeled the seconds, the minutes, the years off her life? Of course, that was part of the deal.
"Why do you think you have those dreams with her?" Bow asked, not a hint of challenge or anger in his voice.
Adora rubbed at her tired eyes. Where to begin? "I don't really know. I thought Evangeline was controlling them for a while, but I don't think she is. I think it's someone else. Something else."
Silence. Everyone exchanged uneasy looks in the dimming light. "Wow, I hate that so much," Brick said.
"You and me both."
"Who do you think it is?" Catra asked.
Adora shook her head and looked at the last gasps of the sunset—red hues pooling in the sky like blood. "I don't know. Maybe some god. They seem like they would do this. But I don't know why. I don't know what they want from me."
A twig snapped behind her and Adora whipped her head around. She peered into the darkened forest, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever made the sound but she saw nothing. Nothing even shifted in the long shadows.
"What's wrong?" Bow asked.
"Nothing," she shook her head, "Nothing, I just thought I heard something."
"Like what?"
"A twig snapping but it's nothing, just my imagination."
Bow shrugged his shoulders and went back to sharpening his knife. "By the way," Glimmer started, while looking at anything but Adora, "How do you know black magic?"
She should've known this was coming. Of course they'd be curious. Of course they'd want to know. But she'd prefer to skip this conversation all together. "Well, I learned some things here and there. I've been in a lot of battles and fought a lot of wars. Inevitably it would come up. Some half trained sorcerer would try to change the tide by calling some aberration onto the battlefield. I learned to deal with those as they came. And I was fine enough at fighting them. I never lost, as you can see. But the true test came with Jorah."
She ran a hand through her hair; craved a cigarette. Actually, maybe—There they were. She pulled the crumpled pack from her pocket and checked the contents. A bit smashed to be sure, but they would do. Adora ignited a small fire in her palm and lit the cigarette. She took a long drag and admired the immediate buzz.
"Do you really think fire is a good idea right now?" Glimmer asked.
"Evangeline could track us down," Bow added.
Adora exhaled. "I hope she does–we're not done yet."
An awkward silence fell as her friends cast worried looks at each other. "Soooo, Jorah?" Sunny offered.
"Jorah," Adora said, "Poor fucking guy. We have nice magic on Etheria, you know? It's so giving, it's so light, so easy. It's not like that on every planet. Magic can be quite nasty, as we just saw. And for Jorah, it warped him. Drove him crazy. And he was just some random guy in some small village. He didn't deserve what happened to him, but it happened anyway. And then–"
A twig snapped again and Adora stood with the Sword of Protection before she could consciously think to do so. She raised the blade and hardened her resolve. Her heart lurched upwards before finding its pounding, steady war rhythm. Please, let it be Evangeline. But only a scrawny teen wandered out of the trees, her hands up. "Please, help me!" She cried. She wore a torn tunic stained with mud and shredded shorts.
Catra started to run past Adora, but she caught her wife with one arm. She turned to look at Adora as if she'd just slapped Catra across the face. Surprise and fear clouded her features. What exactly did she think Adora would do?
"Who are you?" Adora asked, "Why are you here?"
"I–I don't know," the girl stuttered, "My name is Lillith. But I don't know why I'm here."
"How did you get here? Through this forest? Are you alone?" She should've put down her weapon, welcomed the girl with open arms and hot food. But the impossibility of it all kept her sword raised and her hand wrapped around Catra's arm. How had she navigated through this forest alone and apparently intact?
"I–I don't know. I just went to sleep like normal and woke up in the forest. Please, I have no idea! I just need help!"
"Adora," Catra nearly growled. More startled than anything else, Adora let go of her wife. When had Catra ever growled at her?
"Are you okay, Lillith?" Catra asked, checking over the girl. "Are you bleeding?" Carefully, she took the girl by the hand and walked her closer to the group. As they passed, Catra shot her a…disappointed look? An angry one? Whatever it was, it wasn't good.
The girl brushed past Adora and sent a shiver up her spine. The forest dropped ten degrees and the little light left faded into pitch black in a matter of seconds. Some of the horses snorted and pawed at the ground. Adora looked back at the girl. The sword vibrated slightly in her grip.
"Here, sit," Catra said gently, "Let me get you some food." She put a blanket across the girl's shoulders and handed over a ration. She sat by the girl and ran a hand down her blonde, matted hair. Some part of her admired the maternal gestures from her wife. Admired how easily she comforted and helped. And she missed their kids all over again. Missed how they were a family and how that felt so right. Etheria had never called her back the way it called her now.
"Are you going to lurk around like you've completely lost the plot or are you going to sit your ass down?" Brick said.
Adora shook her head. What the fuck was she thinking? What was she doing? This was a 12-year-old girl that clearly needed help. Her first and her last instinct should've been to help. She told the sword to leave but it lingered in her hand a beat too long before disappearing into thin air. She almost called it back. Instead, she walked towards the group and sat across from the girl and Catra. Her wife's eyes glinted in the dark, unreadable.
"Spirits, it got dark fast," Bow said, "Should we light a fire then?"
"No," Adora said, too fast. All eyes turned towards her.
"But you just said you don't care if a fire attracts Evangeline?"
"It's not Evangeline I'm worried about." Adora took a breath. What was her problem? She scrubbed at her face then stared at her hands. Her body felt all wrong, too big and too small at the same time. Some feeling crawled up her spine, sent her teeth on edge. Something suspiciously like rage flicked at her weakened sense of self. At least she knew this part. Her lack of identity had always fed her fists and triggered her temper. Being a nobody, liking nothing and feeling even less, had always manifested in some outside impulse. And it was this girl that reignited these feelings. But why?
Was it the black magic that put her on edge? Probably, it ate people alive. She was exempted from a lot, from aging, from slow healing, but not this.
Or was it this planet? Evangeline's castle and the surrounding area had reinvigorated Adora, quite literally bringing her back from the dead. But this forest stunk of decay. She closed her eyes, let the magic speak to her.
This forest felt like the Whispering Woods. Strike that. It felt worse. The Whispering Woods were diseased, but there was fight there. There was some impulse left to defend and to kill. This forest was too far gone; the disease had eroded too much, left too little.
"There's something wrong with this forest, isn't there?" Adora asked.
The girl shivered and pulled the blanket even tighter against her slight frame. "Leave her alone," Catra warned.
"The animals," the girl blurted out, "They're…not right. I've seen them run around in circles for hours. Thomas, from my village, said—"
"From your village?" Glimmer interrupted.
The girl's eyes widened with recognition. "Yes, my village. I just…" She closed her eyes. "That's all I can remember. I'm from a village. And I know we weren't supposed to go into the woods. And I didn't! I promise. I just woke up and I was here and—" Catra pulled the girl into a hug and shot Adora another angry look.
"And what did Thomas tell you?" Bow said gently.
The girl sniffled before responding, "He saw a wolf chew its own paw off. And it clawed its own eyes out." Silence. Everyone's eyes darted towards Adora. They knew this story.
"Just like the Whispering Woods," Brick said and Adora nodded. "What does it mean?"
Adora shook her head, "I don't know." And for some reason, this jolted her from her strange mood. Despite the grim comparison, the revelation shifted her mind from its brewing anger to the softer, gentler side of herself. She looked again at this impossibly innocent and frail child, and a flood of worry washed over her. Why was this child wandering around in these dangerous woods?
She tried to mentally reign herself in, tried to go through the logical mechanisms countless therapists had taught her. Somewhat successfully, she redirected her thoughts away from her omnipresent ire and towards something more productive. This whole planet had her spooked and it wasn't fair to take that feeling out on this little girl. "Do you need to be healed?" Adora asked. The words came out too harsh so she tried again, "I have healing powers, I can help you." Better, softer.
In the moonlight, she saw the girl nod at her offer of healing. Adora walked towards the poor thing and kneeled just in front of her. She closed her eyes and reached out to touch the girl's shoulder.
As soon as her hand made contact, she felt the sharp pain of teeth at her neck and claws through her stomach. The sensation lasted an excruciating second before dying out. Adora slapped a hand on the back of her neck, fearing the worst. But when she brought her hand back down, there was no blood on it. She glanced down, half expecting her belly to be ripped open but her skin was unbroken.
Adora looked to the girl, who was looking right back at her with hopeful, curious eyes. Was she—? Adora shook her head. No. The remnants of black magic plus the forest's own dark influence must've been fucking with her mind. No way this little girl had ever harmed even a fly. She concentrated again and felt her healing powers flow through her. She watched a cut on the girl's cheek heal and some color returned to her cheeks. "Better?" Adora asked and the girl nodded.
Adora sat back from her and almost fell backwards. She was She-Ra, sure, but she couldn't run from everything. That last bit of healing magic zapped what little energy reserves she'd regained. It was the type of exhaustion that descended with cold indifference and couldn't be cured by simple rest. She'd learned her lesson: god or king, everyone paid the price for playing with black magic.
She laid down unceremoniously in the dirt—any bed would do right now. Before falling asleep, she reminded her friends, "No fires."
…
Day 2
In the morning, Adora woke to find everyone packed and ready to move on. How she'd slept through their preparations was completely beyond her. But she tended to sleep like the dead when she'd used black magic, so really, she shouldn't have been surprised.
She stared at the light beginning to peak just beyond the tips of the trees. It was nice, it was beautiful, it was—-She shot up. Where was the girl? The thought jolted her back to life and she scanned the group for the newcomer. A fist of terror clenched her heart and then receded when she picked her out from the crowd. And when Adora found her, she was looking right back. They stayed like that for a moment. Just looking, just wondering. But it was a clouded mystery—the girl gave no hints as to what she was thinking. Adora doubted she was as subtle. Some lost little blonde girl seemingly blown out of time and place? Adora knew her well.
"Perhaps we can find your parents today?" Adora offered. "You must be missing them."
The girl nodded as tears welled in her eyes. "I just wish I could—I don't remember anything. I know I have parents, but I—." Her words slurred into sobs and, wow, Adora really wasn't good at this.
"Maybe we can take her with us?" Brick suggested. Was he fucking crazy? Didn't he remember the last time someone was taken from Eternia and sent to Etheria? And that had just gone so swimmingly. But Adora bit her tongue. How was he to know that taking this little girl from her home and her family could be ruinous?
Even now, almost fifty years since she'd been kidnapped by Light Hope, Adora could still feel the loss of her home. Before coming to Eternia, she'd met less than five people in her entire life who could speak Eternian, herself included. She had so many things she wanted to say in her mother tongue. But she knew this too—she sang a song only she could hear.
"We'll find your parents," Adora promised. And as the day wore on, she began to realize both the magnitude and the mistake of such a promise. This forest was huge and sparse. It took them almost the entire day to find any trace of other people. And there was barely any trace at all.
In a golden clearing, they found an old campsite. Sunny spotted the red tent first and they hoped to find refuge with some wayward traveler. But when they got to the campsite, it became apparent that anyone previously here had long left. Long rips ran through the collapsed tent and the tent poles were snapped into uneven pieces. The canopy jutted from the forest floor in a jagged but strangely structured way, much like a ruined but recognizable carcass.
Some sticks were piled nearby, apparently ready for use during the long nights. An old campfire was close to the tent, but whoever had tried to start a fire had been no survivalist. A little bit of ash lined the pit and some of the sticks were charred, but it wouldn't have been enough to sustain any real fire. Hopefully some foolish but well-meaning adventurer had realized the depth of their own inexperience and headed for home. Hopefully.
"Look what I found!" Brick announced, crawling out from under the tent. He held up a ripped piece of paper with what Adora recognized to be Eternian words. She stepped closer and translated out loud, "Not me."
A pause. "That's it?" Brick asked while flipping the paper over.
"That's it," Adora confirmed.
"Well, what the fuck does that mean?"
"Let's not find out," Glimmer said, "This place is giving me the creeps."
"Was there anything else in the tent?" Adora said.
"Just that."
Adora looked at the paper again. Not me. Not a name, not a date, not an "I'll be back." Strange. What could that possibly mean? And why leave it behind? Maybe it was just some coincidence and it accidentally slipped out of someone's pocket?
"It's probably just some angsty teenager's musings that they accidentally left behind when they were fooling around in this sad little fuck shack," Brick said.
"Speaking from experience?" Sunny asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Alright, that's enough," Glimmer said, cutting off whatever retort Brick had planned.
As they left the clearing, Adora looked back on the scene. In a sea of greens and browns, the red tent ruined the rhythm of the landscape the same way bleached white bones drew the eye from swaying grasses and rustling trees.
She wanted nothing more than the people at the campsite to have been stowed away somewhere safe. And it was this wanting that sent a thunderbolt of pain through her head. Though it struck quickly and intensely, the pain of the headache was no stranger. She thought she'd left black magic at least temporarily behind, but this burst of agony told her she'd been sorely mistaken.
Adora staggered to a fallen log and half sat, half fell onto its degrading trunk. It sank slightly beneath her weight but didn't give way. She buried her head in her hands and willed She-Ra to cure this affliction. But She-Ra didn't mix well with black magic so she either didn't come or she simply couldn't help. Adora couldn't fault her either way.
A cold hand landed on the back of her neck, almost causing Adora to jump upwards. But a raspy, 'Are you okay?' told her it was just Catra. She couldn't speak, she shook her head no. People didn't know how long this consumption took. When Adora regularly used black magic, it could take her several weeks to come back from it. And she'd built up her tolerance back then and never used as much as she had at Evangeline's castle. Truth be told, it was a miracle she was mostly cognizant at this point.
"It's the black magic," Adora croaked out. 'It's eating me alive,' she wanted to say; she didn't. And it was this silence that she just couldn't shake. She knew so little about herself, but she did know this: she suffered so much in silence. And why?
She knew why. For so long, her silence had been valued. Shadow Weaver loved her silence, reveled in her lost voice. Adora paused on this self-serving thought. Had she really lost her voice, though? Or did she never have it in the first place? And in the grand scheme of things, did it really matter? It all ended the same, no matter what story she told.
And even now, her friends liked her best when she was quiet and obedient. When Glimmer barked orders at her, the Queen was most pleased when Adora said nothing and did as she was told. It was a scene she knew well. How many countless times had she been summoned to Glimmer, given her marching orders, and wordlessly bowed? How many times had she fought Glimmer's battles for her? Bow's? She was most useful when she kept her mouth shut and her sword raised. And she let it happen. Letting herself down was a knee-jerk reaction at this point. She'd come to expect so little of herself and she proved herself right every time.
"I knew you knew black magic, but—"
"It's different when you see it?" Adora guessed through clenched teeth.
She felt her wife nod beside her. "It's nasty shit."
"Ya, what happened at the castle probably took 30 years off my life."
Catra leaned up against her and laid her head on Adora's shoulder. "Don't say that." She felt her tail run up and down back. "What can I do to help?"
"I don't know," Adora admitted before adding, "You can't fix this."
"Guys, can we please get moving? I don't want to be caught in this clearing at night. So–"
"It's always about you, isn't it, Glimmer?" Adora said, "You just love to order me around." She shocked even herself with these words, but the surprise did nothing to slow her down. "You can't just let me have a moment, can you? You can't just let me sit."
Glimmer's face scrunched in anger and began turning red. There it was–the Queen's famous anger. Adora had always been outdone by Glimmer in that regard. When they argued, Glimmer always yelled louder, got more jabs in, and went for the jugular. Adora prided herself on being more restrained, on staying silent when she could have escalated tenfold. But she was tired of this. So very tired. It was year after year of this, of being beat down and taken for granted. She was so tired of taking the high road and finding herself to be its only traveler.
"Excuse me?"
"Is it a power thing? Do I threaten you? Do you want to be She-Ra? Well, you can fucking have her."
"What the fuck did you just say to me?"
"What did I just say to you? To you!? Are you kidding me? What have you been saying to me for my whole life? Shut the fuck up, Adora, and go fight for me like some dog? Oh wait, you never had to say it. I got the message loud and clear. I'm best seen and not heard. I bet you love me when I'm bleeding out on some alien planet and you're spared the indignity of an empty belly. Spirits, what would you think of me if you couldn't use me? If I wasn't She-Ra?"
"I think we all need to calm down," Catra said.
"I am calm!" Adora yelled.
"You forget yourself," Glimmer warned, "I am your Queen and you will not speak to me like this."
"Or what?" Adora said, standing. Catra grabbed her wrist and held her tight. "What are you going to do about it? Hit me?" She laughed. "Excommunicate me? You forget yourself, Glimmer. You may be the Queen, but it's my planet. Don't you ever forget that. She-Ra existed long before there was a Queen and she'll exist long after."
Glimmer stared. It was a minor miracle that she'd shut the fuck up for once. Finally, in a low tone, she said, "Now I see why Etheria doesn't want you as She-Ra anymore. What's wrong with you? Is this how you treat your friends?"
Adora wrenched her arm from Catra and marched straight up to her. In most cases, Adora never noticed the height difference between them. But now she relished how she towered over Glimmer. "Glimmer, I swear—"
A flash of movement to her left and then Adora landed on her ass, pushed backwards. Brick. She jumped to her feet faster than any mere human could possibly hope to achieve. The quickness of her actions registered as surprise on her friends' faces. They'd expected Adora to respond, they'd expected her human thoughts, her aging body. But she was more than that.
Perhaps this realization hit everyone at once as a collective gasp echoed in Adora's ears. They'd forgotten the most fundamental truth about her. The one that Evangeline had uncovered with patience and precision. She was a weapon first and an everything else second.
Weapon? A boiling pain simmered just behind her eyes. Weapon? A lightning bolt of pain through her skull sent her back to her knees. How could she think these thoughts? How could she betray herself like this? She'd spent her whole life convincing herself and others of her tortured reluctance. How fast that facade had crumbled.
She wanted to claw her eyes out. She wanted to disappear forever and never be found. Who was this person? Who was this stranger in her body?
"Adora?" She opened her eyes and Mara's timeless face greeted her. Her oldest friend, her saddest self.
"How are you on Eternia?"
"You're here, aren't you? You carry us all, whether you want to or not. Isn't that the nature of duty?"
Adora thought, nodded. But the surprise of Mara didn't phase her; she'd always had a knack for good timing. "I didn't get it for so long. Why did you want to end She-Ra? It never made sense to me. But I'm starting to understand."
"I was a true weapon. That sword muzzled me, changed me. I began to rearrange molecule by molecule. I could feel it in my bones and so can you. The problem with She-Ra is that she's invulnerable in every way except one." Mara's jaw tensed and she glanced towards the dying forest. "I've never really understood why she attaches to us. Not just us individually, but any person, any mere mortal. We do the best we can, Adora, but we're just people."
Their shared affliction, their collective fault. She so rarely felt the weight of every She-Ra before her, but she could sense their core truth now: they won in an infinite number of ways and lost for the same sole reason.
The sword fighting came easy, so did the unnatural strength, but Adora had been exploited more than anyone else she'd ever met. How easily she'd eroded under master manipulators who had a fraction of the power that she did.
"It's not a good system," Mara said, "We shouldn't exist. We can do too much damage and be twisted far too easily. I never meant to put you in this position. I thought I would be the last. And I'm sorry."
Adora watched Mara's body fracture into a million different lights and blow away in the next freezing gust of wind. She would never accuse Mara of being the most optimistic She-Ra, but she usually left Adora with some slice of advice and hope for the future. The fact she couldn't do either chilled Adora more than any northern breeze.
"Adora?" She turned to find six terrified faces looking right at her.
"What's wrong?"
Her friends looked between themselves, then back to her. "Who were you talking to?"
"Mara." She rubbed at her still throbbing temple. "I'm sorry, I'm sure that was scary. But it was just Mara."
"What did she want?" Glimmer asked suspiciously.
"Mostly to take my head out of my ass." She looked at the ground. "I'm sorry. I was totally out of line. I didn't mean what I said. It's just…it's the black magic. It's turning me into someone I'm not. It's feeding me lies and preying on my anger."
"Seems like a convenient excuse," Glimmer said, lifting her chin.
Adora felt it again—an annoyance that could so quickly turn monstrous. The prick of real resentment that had morphed into something borderline delusional and almost uncontrollable. She repressed the feeling, stuffed it into her turning stomach. She was a professional at eating her words, at bowing her head, at apologizing. What was one more indignity?
"I'm sorry, Glimmer. None of what I said was okay. I shouldn't speak to anyone like that, least of all my Queen." She scrambled until she was kneeling before the group. "It won't happen again."
Glimmer paused and hesitated as if she wanted to deny Adora the chance to submit. Finally she said, "Make sure it doesn't." And she left it at that. Glimmer turned to walk away while Bow and Brick followed dutifully behind. Brick glanced back at Adora but otherwise remained his mother's silent guard. Only Catra was left and she stared at Adora with a stranger's apprehension.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what's happening to me. Maybe it's that girl—"
"Lillith isn't the enemy," Catra said, "Stop acting like she is. Spirits, Adora, she's a child! She's the same age as Finn. I—"
"I know!" Adora yelled, causing her headache to nearly blind her in pain. "I know," she said more quietly as she willed herself to calm down. The dirt beneath her hands felt like the only thing keeping her grounded.
She looked up and she remembered this scene. Thirty years earlier, they'd played these same parts at Thaymor. Adora, dirty and desperately pleading. Catra, standing over her, skeptical. They'd both stumbled around each other, unable or unwilling to actually listen. A rift already existed, had always existed, but Thaymor cemented their division. She remembered Catra disappearing into the smoke and how that moment cleaved the world into two: when she had Catra and when she lost her. Adora often repeated history; she was determined not to do that now.
"I'm trying so hard to be patient but you're acting like someone I don't know," Catra said quietly. These words found Adora's heart with an archer's precision. She winced from the perfectly landed blow. But could she really disagree?
"I don't know what's happening to me," she admitted, letting her head hang down. But the worst, most private part of herself felt some relief. Relief at finally being the person she suspected herself to be for many, many years.
Pine needles and rotting foliage crunched under Catra's boots as she walked to her. She stopped just in front of her, but Adora couldn't bear to look up at her. "Adora." Her fingers, so soft and tender, glided under Adora's chin and lifted her head until they made eye contact. "I know you're hurting, how could you not be? You've endured so much. You've been so strong since…well, since forever. And you can be so many things because of it. But do you really want to be cruel?"
"Wanting has nothing to do with this. It's an infection of the most wicked design."
"Do you really have no control?" Catra asked. The sincerity in her eyes made Adora pause. Whatever she told her wife, she'd believe her wholeheartedly. Adora needed to wield this power with care.
Did she really have no control? Did the black magic indeed control her thoughts and compel her vitriolic words? How bad, really, was the corruption?
She wanted to run and deny, deny, deny. But she knew better. "It twists the knife, it presses the wound. But I'm in control," Adora admitted. Some part of her wished she hadn't, wished she'd lied. Wouldn't it be nice if she possessed no agency beyond a fighter's muscle memory? She was so good at being wielded.
Catra knelt but didn't touch her. They seemed so far apart, like they traveled different paths. This same feeling kept Adora up for three straight years; they couldn't go back. "I'm sorry, I know I'm acting like I'm insane. The last thing I want to do is disappoint you."
"Don't worry about disappointing me. That's besides the point."
"It isn't," she insisted. Her people kept her honest and honorable. Catra especially made up for her lack.
Her wife gave her a sad smile and she could tell she wasn't quite getting it. "Adora, who do you want to be?"
She opened her mouth to answer, it should've been easy. This was a question best answered in someone's twenties or thirties. But she'd somehow missed the starting gun on this and was left with nothing to say. Her cheeks heated up at her infantile personal development and she once more became acquainted with the dull brown of the forest floor.
Catra stood up but Adora couldn't escape her shame long enough to follow her movements. Like a kicked dog, she also couldn't quite bring herself to make eye contact. "I'll be here when you figure it out," Catra said before walking away. Adora watched her go.
Hours later, they found a reasonable looking campsite and settled for the evening. Knowing she was the camp pariah, Adora volunteered for guard duty. And it was that second night that she first heard the pacing. Judging by the moons, it began a little past 1 AM. For a moment, Adora thought some animal slipped past in the night. But then it came again, those same measured, heavy steps. It started as ten steps one way, a twenty second pause, and then ten steps back. For an hour. Then two. Adora would've gone to check it out but it moved about three hundred feet away. That was too much distance between herself and her friends. Too much could go wrong in three hundred feet.
So she listened to the rhythmic, occasionally frenetic, walking for hours. At first she thought it had to have been some large creature trampling through the dark. Next she switched to thinking it must've been some small rodent dutifully guarding its underground home. She finally settled on it being some dog-sized animal checking out their camp for scraps.
But why couldn't she pinpoint its size and shape? At this point in her life, she'd gotten pretty good at listening to her surroundings and letting magic tell her the rest. But when she reached out to the planet to see what it could tell her about the lone marcher, she got nothing back. All was quiet. Nothing stirred. At least, that's what Eternia would have her believe. But her own senses did not deceive her. She distrusted herself at almost every turn, but she was right about this.
Did the planet withhold information maliciously? Or did it really not know that something lurked? And, maybe most importantly, which answer was worse?
…
Day 3
In a dying forest, Adora naively expected to find dying animals, maybe even dying people. But dying was a transitory period and this forest had found its solid state. The days of dying had come and passed. They were in a different period now—one marked by desolation and silence. So when they found the village, Adora knew they wouldn't find anyone alive. But even she was surprised when they found no one, not even bodies.
They came across it early in the morning. A weather vane sticking out from the trees gave it away first. An abandoned lookout platform came second. Third, and finally, came the village itself.
It was constructed on the edge of the forest, a decision she personally couldn't understand. But maybe in a kinder, gentler time, the forest had been more like an old friend. The buildings themselves were made with a type of stone commonly used a hundred years ago or more. But the hatchings on all the roofs appeared new. Stacks of fresh straw sat piled by the houses, ready for a person who would never come.
A large wooden watchtower in the village center rose high above any other structures. Compelled by nothing else other than her own curiosity, Adora climbed the ladder to its highest point. She noted its general studyness and the pair of binoculars dutifully waiting for their owner at the top. But she didn't need magnification to see the dead and rotting treetops that formed the sprawling canopy.
The forest must've been magnificent, back in the day, before the steady sentinel had fallen with disease and ruin. She imagined how children would play at the forest-line, daring each other to face their fears and go in. And now, nothing. No one to remember what it was like, no one to carry on this perfect slice of life.
A creaking down below caught her attention and she watched Brick climb up the ladder to her. She bowed her head in shame. Whatever he wanted to tell her, she deserved it. She'd gone too far, pushed too much. Glimmer was right, she had forgotten herself. And the young and impressionable Brick had seen her like that—acting on anger and impulse and hatred. She preached restraint ad nauseum and now she held no legitimate claim to her moral high ground.
He reached the top; they looked at each other. It was the first time Brick seemingly had nothing to say. Feeling brave enough to try and repair this mess, Adora began, "Brick—"
"I'm sorry I pushed you," he interrupted.
"I'm sorry you had to."
He nodded and began picking at the peeling wooden rail. "What's up with you? You looked like you were about to kill Mom."
"I would never hurt your mother," Adora vowed, "We've been through too much and she means too much to me. Besides, she's my Queen and I've sworn to protect her."
"Do you think that means anything?"
"What? My oath?" Adora blinked a few times. "I mean, I have nothing if I can't keep my word."
He picked up the binoculars and rotated them under his careful gaze. "You have She-Ra. You have your strength. You have your sword. Do you think those things care about your word?"
"More than you might imagine," Adora said, "Besides, it's not about all that. It's knowing in my heart-of-hearts that I'll do what I say. That I'll keep the faith."
He put the binoculars down and straightened up to face her. She set her jaw, prepared for the worst. "I really, really need you to be who you say you are." She'd been braced for the yelling, for the accusations, for the pushing. Yet, he'd somehow found the most devastating option of all. Having no ready answer, she looked down at her scarred palms as if they would somehow reveal some ancient truth that she could convey to her young apprentice.
Instead, selfishly, she asked, "What if I'm not?"
He jerked his head up to meet her gaze and he seemed so…adult. She'd been there the day he was born and almost every day since. Never once had he truly grown up in her eyes. Until today. Did Shadow Weaver have a moment like this? Had her younger self awoken one day and let her disappointment curdle into adulthood? Had she looked at Shadow Weaver the same way Brick looked at her right now? Probably. So much for breaking the cycle.
She was used to being some flavor of disappointment, but never this. Never so old, never so settled. She'd assumed, incorrectly, that she'd somehow outgrown being the resident failure.
"Then what the fuck is even left?" He asked, his voice wavering slightly, "If you're not who I thought you were, then who is?"
Adora understood the sentiment. But if nothing else, she knew this: no one was ever who they said they were. In every sense—in the worst ways, in the best ways. So many times she'd found herself surprised by her own viciousness and then later buoyed by some altruistic tendency she never knew existed. What an exhausting game.
Adora sunk down into the watchtower's only seat. "I'm just a person. I do the best I can, but I get it wrong. I promise you, Brick, I'm trying so hard. That's the only promise I can make in good conscience. I will always try to be the best person I can be."
Brick stared down at her, his brown eyes seemingly piercing into her soul until she had to turn away. But even looking away, she could feel him appraising her. "Try harder then," he said gruffly before descending once again down the ladder.
She stayed up there awhile and enjoyed being free from judgement. It seemed that every step she took somehow ended up being a major mistake. Every calculation wrong. Every estimation somehow short. She'd stumbled into every quagmire, every possible paradox with a sort of blind confidence that bordered on the impressive.
Come on. She knocked her head against the wooden railing. What was this self-pitting bullshit? She didn't need to think about how to be a better person, she just needed to do it. Pouting in a watchtower had never solved anything. With this in mind, she rose and went down the ladder herself.
From the ground, she observed Bow and Catra going from building to building, calling out for the survivors they'd never find. Probably Adora should've told them what she knew—there was no one to discover. But she hated adding hope as one more casualty and kept quiet.
Feeling not quite ready to face any one of her friends, Adora instead walked into one of the abandoned buildings. She noticed the two bowls of rotten soup first. They sat at a plain, sturdily built wooden table that took up the most space in the living room. Flies lazily buzzed around them. A slightly molding loaf of bread also sat ready for a meal. It had been a hurry, then. Whatever happened, happened fast. Unexpectedly. This spread seemed typical of a peasant's dinner so it must've also happened at night.
She moved to the next room to search for even more clues. An overturned bed made her breath catch. Unable to stop herself, she moved closer and then around the tilted frame. A mattress dark with blood laid on the floor. Four jagged lines ran down the material, gutting it so that feathers spilled out. She knelt down and looked at the cuts. An animal, then. These weren't clean enough for a knife.
She stood up again and stared. Naively, she'd hoped the villagers had simply run away to some neighboring town. But the clock had run out. They'd played a losing game with the forest one day too long. Something awful had crawled from the trees and indulged its animal appetite.
Adora lit a cigarette and left the bedroom to go sit at the dinner table. About halfway through her cigarette, Catra appeared at the hut's doorway. Adora beckoned her in with a slight gesture and her wife sat opposite her.
"Something terrible happened here," Catra said.
Adora nodded, "Indeed."
"I think it was an animal."
"I think so too."
"You were right," Catra said. For the first time, Adora noticed she'd been crying. "There's something wrong with the forest. That's where…it must've come from."
"Must have," Adora confirmed before taking a long drag.
"Adora?"
"Hmmm?"
"This is Lillith's village."
Adora blew out a puff of smoke and considered. "How do you know?"
"She recognized the watchtower and it all came flooding back."
"Did you tell her that everyone's dead?"
"We don't know that," Catra said.
"Yes, we do." Catra gave her a look so she continued on, "I knew it the moment we came here. I hoped I was wrong. But…" Tears slid down Catra's face and Adora reached out to cover her hands with her own. "I'm sorry. I should've said something so you didn't have to see."
Catra shook her head. "It's not that. How do we even begin to tell Lillith what happened?"
"Maybe we don't. Maybe we just say that they must've packed up and moved on to somewhere new."
"We can't lie to her," Catra said.
"Well, why not?"
Catra furrowed her brow. "She deserves to know the truth."
"Maybe. Or maybe we should wait to tell her when we're back on Etheria."
"Are we going to take her to Etheria?" Catra asked.
"What else are we supposed to do with her? We can't just leave her here."
"It's just that…" Catra trailed off and looked away.
"What?"
"You don't like her. I didn't think you'd want her coming back to Etheria with us."
Adora took a few extra puffs before grinding her cigarette butt into the table. "It's not that I don't like her. Of course I do, she's just a little girl. I just don't want to take her from her home."
"There's no more home to take her from."
"I suppose that's true," Adora agreed and they lapsed into silence. Finally, she added, "I never thanked you for saving me. Back at Evangeline's castle. I could feel you dragging me out of there."
"No need to thank me. You know I'd never leave you."
Adora brought Catra's hand up to her lips and kissed her wife's knuckles. "I know. But I still wanted to thank you. I don't do it enough. What would I do without you?"
Catra shrugged and Adora tried not to take it personally. The loss of an entire village would rock just about anyone. She hated to imagine the scenes Catra had encountered going from building to building. How desperate she must've felt with every new blood bath she found.
"I didn't find any bodies," Catra said suddenly.
"You wouldn't. They're gone too. I don't know where."
"How do you know?"
Now it was Adora's turn to shrug. "I can sense these things. As She-Ra, you know? I knew it the moment I saw that weathervane."
Catra looked at her a moment before bursting into tears. Without thinking, Adora stood and rounded the table to comfort her wife. She pressed a kiss into her temple and hugged her tight. In return, Catra clung to her in a familiar, comfortable way. Their roles had been reversed recently, which hadn't sat quite right with Adora. So she relished the chance to be the supporter, the protector. She'd been so weak recently and it was nice to be needed like this. And it was a need that couldn't be satisfied through a sword, through violence. She didn't realize just how desperately she wanted to be both useful and peaceful all at the same time. In truth, she'd forgotten she could be both simultaneously.
So she kissed Catra, said all the right things, and became a little more like herself again. How she missed being this person—strong, loving, gentle. Of course it would be Catra that unlocked all these buried virtues in her. If only it could've been under better circumstances. If only she could've remembered these parts before she dragged everyone to this horrid planet.
"We can't stay here," Catra whispered through her sniffles, "What if it comes back tonight?"
Adora almost told her the truth—that she'd gut the animal before it ever harmed any Etherian. But she kept this thought to herself; when had a threat ever comforted?
"You're right, we need to get moving before it gets dark." So they rounded all their friends up and moved on from the empty, bloody village. In hindsight, maybe they just should've stayed.
That night, Adora took second watch and listened. There it was: her steady pacer. Twenty steps one way, twenty steps back. At around 2 AM, the pacing stopped. A full moon hovered above and Adora used its gray light to peer into the trees, hoping to glimpse the animal. But the light revealed nothing but an empty forest and utter silence. Silence that sent a shiver up Adora's spine. She'd grown used to the pacing, relying on its rhythm to steady herself on watch. But the buzz of silence pressed in and made her rise to her feet. This forest was undeniably sick and its sounds had never been normal from day one. But it did murmur, if one cared to listen. A trickle of water there, a lonesome bird call there. Now, nothing.
She drew the Sword of Protection and retreated back to the camp. She sensed it then—some carnivorous impulse that had swung its full attention to her. Adora broke into a run and practically fell into the camp. "Wake up!" Adora yelled, causing her friends to scramble from their respective sleeping bags. With one exception—the girl. Her pile of blankets did not move, her voice made no sound. Adora's breath caught and her mind assumed the worst. Visions of a terrible, bloody death danced across her eyes. She bolted to her spot and began clawing at the bedding, desperate to dig the girl out. But there was no one there.
"Adora." The sound of her name froze her blood and made the hair in the back of her neck stand up. Adora turned slowly, somehow sensing that any sudden movements would be understood as provocation. It took a moment, but she saw the little girl standing about ten feet from her in perfect light. Tonight the moonlight gave no ground to the insistent shadows. Everything was bright, everything was crystal clear. And that's how Adora saw the blood on the girl's fingers and clothes.
"What happened?" Adora called. It was a question that would never be answered. Whenever Adora remembered this moment, she would flip through the many possibilities. She would be tortured by the what ifs, the potential explanations, and never land on a fully satisfactory answer. She would just remember that singular, peaceful moment before the girl began ripping chunks out of her own hair and scalp. She'd remember the high pitched scream that lowered its pitch until something more akin to a roar burst out of the girl. When Adora could not sleep, she'd think of this transformation. She'd think of the human hands turning to cruel claws and blonde hair getting peeled back to reveal a wiry, brown pelt. She'd think about how the girl's human skin sloughed off her little body in bloody clumps, how her face elongated into a wolf-like head, and how her warm eyes became eclipsed by primal hunger.
And in the darkest part of the night, some point north of 3 AM, Adora would think about how she'd reacted—how she'd called the Sword of Protection without thinking, how it came without pausing. In her most self-forgiving moods, she'd remember how she'd stopped and begged the girl to change back, to run away, to do anything else than what she actually did. Instead of heeding Adora's pleas, the girl-turned-animal pivoted towards Brick and grabbed the Prince's hand with its unnervingly dexterous paw. Blood spurted from his arm and he collapsed to the ground with anguished cries.
It was this next part that would keep Adora awake for many countless nights. She'd turned the sword into a spear and found herself to be too late. As she readied her aim, Glimmer popped into existence near her son and slashed the animal from snout to stomach with a blaze of energized magic. Blood so dark it almost ran black spattered across the ground as the creature fell backwards with a surprised cry.
Perhaps of all the times Adora would've liked to have acted, this was surely at the top of the list. In some dreams, her spear would get there a half second before Glimmer and spare her friend the mantle of child killer. In others, her pleas worked and the animal shifted back to Lilith with merciful ease. But in most dreams, she couldn't escape the truth.
She couldn't escape the burst of red, the wet rattle of a dying animal, the shocked silence. Like she'd done numerous times, she called for her healing powers. Here was She-Ra at her core—a giver. But the issue with giving was this: it was the one of the only limitations She-Ra knew. So when Adora cradled the bloody beast with one hand and used her other to heal, nothing happened. Maybe Eternia had countless gods, but Adora had one and its name was Death.
Try as she might, and she tried, there was no reviving this little girl. She knew it the moment she touched her, but she still tried again. And again. And again.
Eventually, out of all the people, it was Sunny who said something. Sunny who guided Adora's shaking hands to heal Brick. Sunny who wrapped Glimmer in a blanket and made her sit down. Sunny who told the Queen, "It wasn't your fault."
They formed a semi-circle around their leader and sat in silence. What do you do when you kill someone? Or, maybe more accurately, what do you do when you kill a child? It was a question she'd avoided asking. It was an answer she'd never found.
Finding this all too hard to bear alone, Adora shifted until she sat by Catra. She leaned into her wife and took both her hands into her own. They shared a look borne of the same anxiety—what if Lillith had been their child? It was an odd notion, but the comparison couldn't be avoided. Being a parent had made everything so strangely personal and this scenario managed to capture her worst fears in almost every conceivable way.
Glimmer had to have been feeling the same way. What if Lillith had been her child? But perhaps this was actually a distractor question from the real problem—the loss of an innocent, young soul. The permanence of it all. The killing blow from their friend and Queen.
They'd crossed a line. An old world shattered. How strange to think you lived in one reality and found you actually lived in another. And not just any reality, but a meaner, more depraved version. But maybe she'd lived here all along and her friends were only now just seeing the world for what it truly was.
Poor Glimmer. Of all the people, Adora would've liked her knowledge of grief to begin and end at her mother's death. What a neat, compartmentalized pain that had become. In the past few years, Glimmer had seemingly plucked her mother's death from her mind's storage like a sorrowful little snow globe and entertained it for exactly one day (the anniversary) before shelving it again until the next year. And now? Now they existed in the after. They were in the post-mortem examination room trying to piece their world back to life.
Adora looked into the oppressive darkness of the woods and wondered. What if they hadn't travelled to Inuva? What if she hadn't agreed to fight Evangeline and reopened her seeping stomach wound? What if, in some other life, they were actually back on Etheria and nothing hurt?
She glanced at the mound of freshly dug dirt. The girl never turned back into herself. She'd died as an animal and was buried as one. For some reason, she couldn't let this go. Adora had come to expect some kind of dignity in death. Whoever you lived as, you could always die as someone else. And she'd expected the world to restore this girl, give her the parting gift of her most complete self. But if the world had cursed her to live as half-human, half-animal, it surely was not a world that granted dying wishes. If she thought Etheria was cruel, why did she think Eternia would be any better?
And it was Eternia's savagery that compelled Adora to say her first words in hours. Bit by bit, minute-by-minute, she became increasingly aware of the interested parties that moved towards them. And it wasn't the group that was tracked but blood. The girl's blood had spilled across the forest floor and whatever remained in these destroyed woods hadn't been living off the vegetation. "We have to get moving," Adora said, "We're being tracked right now. Animals and who knows what else will be here in hours."
"We're being tracked?" Bow asked.
Adora swallowed and chided herself for her clumsy language. "Well, we aren't. It's the uhh…the blood." Bow just nodded. Glimmer said nothing. The rest prepared their horses and they set off for anywhere but here.
…
Day 4
Sunny swung the wooden door open, causing it to creak at the movement. Even from several feet away, Adora could see dust drifting in the sunlight. When she walked through the entrance, the scent of stagnant air told her that nothing would stir at their arrival. She wordlessly motioned the rest of her friends, who followed after her into the stuffy hut. They'd found another abandoned village, this time located in the forest rather than on its rim. The novelty had officially worn off—a loaf of bread ready to cut and a hastily left bowl of stew did not perturb.
Glimmer walked past her, almost trance-like, and sat down at the set table. She hadn't said a word the entire day. Adora exchanged a look with Catra. They needed off this fucking planet for about a million reasons at this point. Hopefully, they'd get a chance sooner rather than later. They only needed to travel a few more days before they'd reach the castle and its portal. Then, home. She looked at Glimmer again. But it would be a long few days. The traumas were building, the scars weren't healing. It seemed like everyone was collecting their fair share of hauntings. And it was all because of her. If she hadn't insisted that they stay on Eternia, none of this would've happened. If they'd just turned around at the first signs of trouble, they'd all be curled up in their soft Etherian beds right about now. No nightmare dream caused by the Goddess of Time, no night time killing of a little girl. Maybe for the first time, she craved their life before Eternia.
Her friends spread out through the hut, glanced at each other. The thought of a debrief made her skin crawl. She could hear it now: the halting question that no matter what was asked would actually mean, 'Did that just really happen?' And then they'd all look at each other with more questions than answers. She wanted to avoid that at all costs.
"I'm just gonna go check out the barn, see if there's any animals, and then I'll be back," Adora announced.
"Sounds good," Brick said with a thumbs up before turning back to the fireplace.
Adora went out the hut's back door and walked the hundred feet to the worn, but sturdy barn. It needed a layer, or two, of red paint, but it looked fine otherwise. She also didn't hear any snorts or sneezes, so probably no animals. Still, she might as well check while she was out here.
She walked through a side door and stale, dusty air greeted her entrance. Just like the hut, no one had been in here for some time. She went to the nearest stall and looked inside. Strange. Oats and feed waited in a bucket, but there was no animal to eat it. Just like the house, it was almost as if someone had fed their horse and then fallen off the face of the planet. At least at the previous village there'd been blood evidence of what happened. The people hadn't simply vanished out of thin air. Perhaps morbidly, she craved that kind of certainty.
She went to the adjoining stall—same thing. And then the next, also the same thing. Huh. At the end aisle, she sat down on a bale of hay and peered across the empty barn. Too bad. An empty barn always felt a little sad to her. Someone could be using it for horses and fun, but instead it stood waiting and still.
Adora leaned forward and put her head in her hands. She just wanted to go home. She just wanted to see Finn and Reyna. She just wanted to be in her own bed. She just wanted everyone to be safe. Fuck.
She opened her eyes and looked at her dusty boots. To her right, several inches from her foot, she spotted something shiny. She reached down and brushed the dirt from it. Dull red shone through the grit. A ring maybe? Kneeling beside it, Adora began to work it from the ground. But it stuck to a root or something. She dug around it and then pulled at the root. After a couple of hard yanks, she dislodged both the root and the ring.
Probably her eyes knew what she was looking at before her brain. Probably they knew the second she pulled it up. But her brain wasn't there, wouldn't process. She held it up for a second more before scrambling backwards. Holy shit. She rubbed her eyes, looked again. But the hand sticking out of the ground was still there.
She slapped her face a few times. Come on, come back to the real world. But when she opened her eyes a second time, it was still a hand. Not a root. A hand. A human hand with a red ring on it.