Author's Note: Several things, folks. The first is that my private messaging system is not working, and I'm not really sure why. I've contacted fan support, and I'm hoping they'll be able to fix it soon. I am so sorry if we were in the middle of a conversation and I never responded. Hopefully we can get back to chatting soon!

Second, I will be taking a break after this chapter. I'll be taking three weeks off, so I'll be back on May 26th.

And finally, thanks again for reading, commenting, following, and favoriting! I appreciate it so much!

...

Chapter 17: Something Wicked

She woke with a start before searching the curtains above for answers. Where the fuck was she?

Pounding at their door cleared her mind. Right. They were back at Bright Moon Castle. Not home exactly, but somewhere safe. With that thought, she closed her eyes again. Another furious knock came, and she reached for Adora. Getting up in the middle of the night for some stupid ass emergency was far, far better suited to Adora. And more in line with her job description.

"Adora," she hissed, "Get the damn door before the kids get woken up." She waited for an answer. Nothing. Weird, Adora was a light sleeper.

Catra opened her eyes and rolled over. No Adora. Just an immaculately made bed. And it was cold, too. Her wife had been gone awhile. The woods. For fuck's sake. How many times did she have to be told to stay away from them? Reyna was a better listener. Spirits, even Brick was a better listener.

Another knock. Fuck.

Catra got out of bed, wrapped her robe around herself, and opened the door. There stood two very nervous looking guards. "What?" She asked too forcefully. She made herself take a breath and start again. "Hi. What can I do for you?"

"Director General. Ma'am. I think you should come with us."

"I can't leave my kids alone." Catra added, "Adora's not here."

"It's…" One of the guards trailed off, exchanging a look with the other.

"Well? Spit it out."

"It's actually about Princess Adora, ma'am." The guard gulped, and Catra's heart started its descent downwards, first into her stomach and then into the stony flooring.

"Hi, Princess Catra," Anne, Reyna's teacher, greeted. She stepped out from behind the guards and offered a smile that didn't match the concern clouding her eyes. "I was sent over to look after the kiddos."

Catra was now supposed to say something. Thank Anne, maybe. Walk after the guards. But her feet glued to the floor and heat rushed to her face. "What happened to her?" She heard herself ask.

Adora had been here. Only hours before. They'd…they'd kissed goodnight. She'd smelled like booze and Catra made a mental note to talk with her about that later. She had some shitty pun at the ready. She'd curled up beside Catra, her strong arms ready and waiting. She'd been fine. Or had she?

She'd been off at the party. More than off, she'd been downright depressed. She got that way sometimes, but she'd always rebounded quickly. But something had been wrong for weeks, maybe even months at this point. She'd been reckless and distant. The Horde kept coming back up like a ceaseless specter. She'd said…What did she say? That she hadn't healed. That she didn't know what to do.

A thought, maybe the worst she'd ever had, popped into her head: Had Adora hurt herself? On purpose? Was that what they'd come to tell her?

"Maybe we should talk somewhere else."

Catra shook her head. She had to know before she took another step forward. "Is she alive?" She didn't even care that her voice cracked.

"We don't actually know that, ma'am. She's missing. If you come with us, I think a lot of your questions will be answered." Missing. What the fuck did that mean? Was she 'out for a walk' missing? The guards wouldn't be here, sweating, if she'd just been on a stroll.

Realizing she hadn't said anything, Catra made some sort of agreement noise and stepped aside so Anne could go into their room. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of them," Anne said as she passed by.

Catra nodded dumbly and looked back into their room. Their room. Her and her family's. What a shitty place it would be without their mom, their wife, their Adora. How empty. Like a body trying to work without its heart.

What if she was gone? What if this was it? What if she'd slipped away without saying goodbye? Her last party an unhappy one, her parting thoughts blacker than the blackest night?

For some reason, she never thought she'd be here. Adora took care of herself the best out of the Best Friends Squad. Out of anyone Catra knew, really. She was careful about what she ate, she always wore sunscreen, she exercised at least once a day. She was careful for herself, sure, but went the extra mile for Catra and the kids. So, Catra always thought she'd be the first to go. The thought was comforting. Adora was the kind of person who could trudge through loss, Catra was not. It was only fair that Adora outlived her.

But Adora was also the hardest on herself. Mistakes, she'd explained, didn't just reflect poorly on herself, they reflected poorly on She-Ra. And history was watching, always. A thousand year She-Ra drought made people more demanding, the whole damn planet more demanding. It made her highs higher, but her lows lower. And it got to Adora. Most times Catra could help her up, remind her that there was always a way forward. But sometimes she couldn't. So, maybe she'd been slipping through the cracks for too long. Maybe they all saw what they wanted to see and heard what they wanted to hear. And Adora was left to drown, alone and in silence.

"This way, ma'am," A guard said before turning and heading off to the main conference rooms. She hesitated. Right now she knew nothing. Adora could still be okay. If she followed the guard, she'd ruin that perfect, ignorant world where her wife was alright. "Ma'am?" One asked, turning towards her with a questioning look. Despite her rapidly failing will, she followed after them, never more unsure of her path.

When she walked into the conference room, with its flipped tables and blood-stained floor, she sucked a breath in. It was loud enough that the tense talking stopped and everyone turned to face her. Two pairs of bloodshot eyes caught her attention, and she focused on Sunny and Brick. "What the fuck happened? And where the fuck is Adora?"

…

Five Hours Earlier

"Adora, you'll come back too?"

This was the eighth time she watched the end of the world. Eight times too many. There were so many things to think about, so many to get stuck on. But, for some reason, she got caught on Angella's voice. One day she'd woken up and didn't remember what it sounded like, and she didn't even know it. Only after hearing it now did she realize it'd been slowly eroding in her mind.

"I have to do this. This is my destiny." When she was younger, she'd stare at her own face. She'd watch it contort into determination and then realization as she figured out she was being replaced. Now she watched Angella's features, finding her far more relatable than her younger self.

"Oh, Adora. This is not it."

She may not have remembered Angella's voice, but she did remember the words. The hug. The look that Angella gave her when she admitted she was a coward. And, later, her smile when she grabbed the sword and said, "Take care of each other."

Sometimes, in the past, she tried to save Angella. She tried to switch them. Now, she would never dream of denying Angella the privilege of dying for someone else. Because as bad as it was for Adora, she couldn't imagine how Angella would pass the days knowing she'd let a kid take her place.

And that's what she was, a kid. Stupid and heroic and doomed by one too many destinys. Now that she had her own kids, she got it. Adora would do anything for her kids. Anything. She'd get pulled in-between dimensions; she'd wither away there for them. So, she watched Angella with the kind of wisdom that only came through first-hand experience.

Shadow Weaver didn't love her like that. Selflessly. She had never seen Adora as the vulnerable person she actually had been. That wasn't necessarily the problem, though. Maybe it had been, years and years ago. The far worse issue was that she did love Adora. It might be easier if she hated Adora. If she felt nothing. If she was simply a thing to be used. But, like always, she didn't quite know what to do with Shadow Weaver. And like always, she infected everything, even this dream.

She felt someone sit down next to her, and she knew who it was. "It was almost me. But she took my place. I always wondered why she saved me when she was the Queen. Now, I get why she did it. Even more so since I became a mom. I didn't for a long time, you know?" Of course she knew, the black haired woman was herself. But it was still nice to say these things out loud. "Look, this is gonna sound bad. But sometimes I wish she'd let me go. Destinys are so much easier to deal with when you just die. There is no aftermath, no lingering questions. You die for something, and that something has meaning. And that's the end." Adora nodded at the shimmering scene, at the disintegration of the world piece by excruciating piece. "I thought this was my destiny, you know?"

"You are meant for greater things."

"Was I?" Adora turned her head towards the other woman. "There are no destinys. I learned that lesson the hard way."

"You just said that destinys are easier to deal with when you die. How can that be true if there are no destinys?"

"Ya…I guess I don't know what I meant. Maybe I wish there were destinys. I think things would make more sense. Then I could say that everything happens for a reason. Maybe I could find some meaning for some of the things that happened." She paused for a moment to watch the sad, but ultimately predictable ending. "Is that pathetic?"

"No, it makes you a person. Who doesn't want to find meaning in meaningless suffering?"

The woman picked up one of Adora's hands and held it as her younger self screamed at Angella. They watched wordlessly as Angella flew upwards, dodging clumps of Etheria, and made it to the sword. She looked down at the young Adora, soft smile firmly in place. "Take care of each other." And then the dream restarted for the ninth time, and it was almost like Angella hadn't really died.

"I don't know if this means anything, but I believe in destiny," the woman said.

"Why?" Adora turned, surprise blooming in her chest as if it were a gunshot wound. Which part of her still clung to the idea of destiny? How did it survive her sword shattering? Or the reveal of Light Hope's true intentions?

"There are far stranger things in this world, Adora, than having a destiny. Some things are just supposed to happen. You have a wife and a kid. You're supposed to get a happy ending. Isn't that comforting?"

"If I'm supposed to have a happy ending, then why am I ruining it? Why am I back here every single night? Why can't I move on from this? Or from the Fright Zone?"

"It's time for a new destiny, Adora. But first you have to heal. From this, from the Fright Zone. From–who is that sick woman?"

"Shadow Weaver?" Adora guessed.

"Yes, Shadow Weaver." The woman rolled her name off her tongue slowly, like she was sampling how it sounded. "But you're not there yet. So let's change that."

"How? I've tried for years and years. I thought I was okay. But I…I guess I'm not. I don't know. I don't know what I am."

"Hmmm," the woman hummed. "Why is this all coming up now? Why are you here, Adora?" She nodded at her younger self and Angella talking a few feet away.

Adora buried her face in her hands, not ready for this conversation. But would she ever be? "Our kids," Adora said through clenched teeth, "I see them, think about them, and how much I love them. And I think about when I was their age. Like when I was twelve, and I lived through that horrible year. I mean, I have a million plans. I need a plan to go to the store. And I never came up with one to save me from that year. And I look at our kids, and I see what we never had. And then I can't stop thinking about it.

"And–and I feel so, so guilty about it. Our kids are everything to me. But it's sometimes so hard being around them. And then there's this king, who— "

"King?" The woman interrupted, "King of what?"

"Being a jerk?" Adora said with a grin, but the other woman just stared at her. She swallowed before adding, "King of Eternia. Or he was. He's not much of a King of anything these days."

"Huh." The woman looked away and followed the young Adora's movements with her eyes.

"You know," Adora said, letting her own gaze wander over the pink boundaries of the obliterating world, "I've never told anyone this stuff."

"Maybe that's why you never healed. You have to be honest, Adora, or you'll never get free. And that includes being honest with yourself."

Adora considered. And then considered some more. Was she being dishonest with herself? It wouldn't be the first time. She'd denied herself so much, why not add the truth to that list?

Adora opened her mouth, and she was back in their room. Back next to Catra. Back in the real world. She didn't exactly want to go back to the dream, but didn't exactly want to be here, either.

Not knowing what else to do, she smoothed away some hair that was wildly tossed across Catra's face. With comforting predictability, her wife snored like a jet engine and was snuggled into Adora's side. She was none the wiser that Adora had both left for her dreamscape and come back.

Years and years ago, Catra told her what happened with the portal from her perspective. Even now, Adora remembered, with perfect clarity, how Catra explained that she 'just wanted to die.' She'd said it with tears in her eyes. Her head was down. Adora remembered the shame. And her own horror. She spent the next week piecing it all together. Replaying every single fracture line that formed between them. Fantasized about going back, getting a redo, and making sure that Catra never felt that way ever again.

Of course, that really wasn't her responsibility. She wasn't in charge of other people like that. Probably she was supposed to learn that lesson, internalize it, act on it. Probably she never would.

Some animal bugled from somewhere in the woods. It echoed off the castle and kept going with ever increasing faintness. When she couldn't hear it anymore, she closed her eyes again, but sleep wouldn't come. How could it? Something called her, something searched. She was wanted, needed, elsewhere. A magnetic pull, an invisible string, connected her to the Whispering Woods and to the rest of Etheria by extension. Maybe this is what had woken her up, rescued her from the echoes of her ever painful past.

A cold wind blew in from a window, causing the curtains around their bed to billow outwards. A long, humanoid figure bloomed in the fabric and a hand reached for her. The satin rippled over the thing's fingers and deep, empty holes stared into her. A scream caught in her throat and she materialized a knife in her hand, ready. But a blink later and it was just a curtain again. No partially formed face, no ice-cold hands heading for her neck. Did she imagine it? On any other night, she'd call it a waking nightmare. Sometimes she got those, caught between the waking world and a dream. But it wasn't another night, it was the Day of Restoration. She looked out the window and Gillian, Vatova, and Avis hung over the night sky in perfect alignment. Spirits would be at their most active right now and they hadn't been exactly dormant all day.

With inching stealth, she crawled to the side of their bed and slipped out. Adora watched Catra for a moment, but her snoring continued uninhibited. She opened a side drawer of their nightstand and withdrew a vial of magic dust. No way was she going to let another Spirit around her family, especially if she wasn't going to be around for the night. After pouring some into her palm, she drew out a protection spell quickly and cast it around the entirety of the room. Satisfied they'd be safe, Adora headed to the balcony.

The moons cast so much light that she could make out the wisps of Spirits passing between the trees along the forest's edge. She hadn't seen so many since the first year of their return. And somehow, she knew they watched for her. It was like a big spotlight illuminated her and every Spirit waited for her next move, her next line of dialogue. A pull, almost physical in nature, tugged at her chest and there was no way she could avoid the forest any longer. Someone, or something, wanted to talk and not even she could prevent this meeting.

After putting on a jacket and a pair of boots, Adora left their room and headed to the castle's entrance closest to the Whispering Woods. She nodded at the guards but offered no explanation. She'd put enough confidence into her walk that she hoped the guards wouldn't take much note. She was the Lord Commander, after all, sometimes she had to be places at 2 AM.

Not wanting to wake Swift Wind and activate the castle's worst gossip, Adora borrowed an appaloosa from the stable and began her journey into the woods. As soon as they reached the edge of the trees, the mare snorted and danced nervously under her. She understood why. If the forest wanted to harm her, tonight would be ideal. Spirits were around to do the bidding of the trees and the lakes and the mountains. Good or bad. If she went in, chances were high that she'd have to run back out. If whatever made the boar and the wolves go insane got a hold of a powerful Spirit, she'd be in trouble. She had to accept that as soon as she stepped foot within the wood's boundaries.

She took a breath before urging her horse to keep going, and they fell beneath the shadow of the wood's thick canopy.

For a moment, she couldn't see anything until the bark of a tree rippled and a shadow moved closer. And then it was like a seal broke and the entire area around her began to rearrange into shadows, into tall humanoid figures, into darting orbs. She placed a hand on her horse's neck and calmed it with a little bit of magic. She kept her mare moving and they took up a slow, but steady march forward.

The Whispering Woods didn't whisper that much. Not anymore, at least. Not since the war. But now the whispers rumbled into a confusing cacophony of grunts, calls, and phrases. She couldn't make out any of the words but one–"Adora." Something whizzed by her head and said her name. Another darted between her horse's leg and drew out an "Adooooora." Everywhere she looked, there was movement. It was like looking at a black spot on an anthill only to realize that the mass writhed with individuals.

Never in her entire life had she seen so many Spirits. And never had they tried to touch her so much. Shadowy hands grazed her arms; one Spirit hit her hard enough to knock her and the saddle out of alignment. And the talking didn't stop. If anything, it became more frenzied. Languages she didn't understand, perhaps couldn't, pinged from tree to tree. Languages that were long forgotten by the living and were, therefore, cherished by the dead.

"Adora," a woman's lilting voice purred, "Adora." Her voice was different from the others—crystal clear and piercing. Some Spirits reacted to their environment; others created it. She got a feeling that this one was the latter.

A twig snapped to her left, causing her to stop her horse. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, hoping to discern if she should stay put or run for her life. After a moment of tranquility, she rested her hands against the saddle and neglected to fan the defensive magic building in her chest. It felt right, whatever this place and time was.

"Adora." She said again, and her voice jogged Adora's memory. Of course. She was Velesta, Spirit of the Night. "You came. I thought you wouldn't." To her left, some leaves crackled under someone's feet. She fumbled for her sword, thinking of turning it into a flashlight. Before she could, she remembered the most important rule for Velesta: no lights.

"Velesta, Spirit of the Night, did you call me? Were you the one in my curtain?"

"I called you, yes. I have been calling. I'm glad you finally heard. We have much to discuss, you and I."

Adora looked down at herself and then her mare. Stupidly, she didn't think to bring any offering. "I come without gifts. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I am no god; I expect nothing." Velesta paused, and the weight of her consideration pressed into Adora until she felt like throwing up. "You are the greatest warrior of your generation, of many generations. And I fear for you." Sensing now was not the time to speak, Adora remained silent. "I'm as old as this forest. I'm as old as you, She-Ra. And I could not foresee what happened to you. None of us did, you must understand."

"I'm sorry, I'm not following. What happened?"

"You were born in a shack overlooking the Emerald Sea to a pair of peasants. You were not born of Kings and Queens. Your father is no son of a King, your mother no daughter of a Queen. You were no Princess, you had no land, no name. But you were meant to be a Queen, and to sire Kings and Queens. You were to be married to a woman who bore you many heirs. We had seen this, we had agreed upon it. We were satisfied, as were the gods. We were all shocked when you were taken."

Unable to keep the offended tone out of her voice, Adora said, "I have my heirs. I have my wife."

"So you do, Princess, so you do." To her right, another rustle of the undergrowth gave Velesta's position away, and Adora caught sight of a pair of cloven hooves. A spark of fire arched through the air before growing in size and intensity. From the burning gash stepped a copy of herself. She was striking in her long white robes, and golden crown. The other Adora didn't smile as she quietly assessed her. Nor did she make any move to come closer, she just stood and stared. Adora did the same but began to look for the details. That was where the identity of this other Adora lied.

She had a dull white scar running from her jaw to an eyebrow. And her crown had the same halo-like design that framed her head in regal style. This was the same Adora that interrupted the feast. Sure, the clothes were different but her doppelgängers were the same. The same idea at least, the same vague memory or vision come to life.

"I just saw this. I just saw this version of me. A Spirit…it came to the castle looking just like this."

"I'm not surprised. It's no secret in the Spirit world that we got you wrong. Maybe at first it was, but the years have passed, and so the truth about you has reached all curious ears. You're an Eternian by blood, and an Etherian by choice. Not your choice, mind you. But a choice. When they watch you, they remember this. And they remember who you were supposed to be." The other Adora took a step forward and tilted her head back in a show of self-confidence and power.

It was interesting to know that others knew who she was supposed to be. And their conception didn't seem to line up with the person she'd become, she'd grown into. By virtue of being She-Ra, she belonged to others and it was hard not to wonder what they thought of this particular version of herself. The Etherian version. Decidedly not a Queen. A former Horde officer and a stolen child. But why ask? She knew better than to ask questions she didn't want the answers to.

"It was you who was to wield the Sword of Light." For the first time ever, the Sword of Protection came to her without being called. A tingle of magic raced down her arm before the sword burst into existence and nestled comfortably into Adora's hand. It began a low hum and glowed, as if it had been awakened from its sleep. "The Sword of Protection doesn't like that truth very much," Velesta added, "It never has. It's quite protective of you."

The sound of fire igniting caught Adora's attention and she looked up to find the other Adora carrying a sword cloaked in steady flame. The light from it bathed the small clearing in a flickering orange hue. The other Adora took another step forward and she felt her horse tense beneath her. But they stood their ground. Maybe the other Adora could get away with these mind games in the castle, but not here. There were no children, no civilians out in the woods. She didn't want to, but she'd fight out here.

She heard herself swallow.

Adora looked down and caught her reflection on her blade's surface. A grown woman's face looked back, her pale blue eyes piercing yet steady. It was in stark contrast to how she felt–like a stumbling teen again, trying but ultimately over her head. How she looked like that when she felt like this was almost incomprehensible. Like she was two different people.

"I cannot see all ends, Adora. No one can, no matter what they tell you. I saw you, and your coronation with my own eyes. You were supposed to live and die on Eternia. And, yet, here you stand."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I've seen more than that. Walked the bleak future myself. You weren't supposed to be here, true, but we welcome your presence. You're an exceptional She-Ra, we wish to keep you for many years. I don't think that will happen. So, I've come to warn you. I've seen your funeral pyre, Adora. I've watched you burn."

The other Adora faded before blurring completely into the night. Her sword went with her and the area turned pitch black again.

Adora opened her mouth to rage, to deny. She was too young, had too much to do, had too much to say to die just yet. Her kids still needed her, and Catra….She couldn't do that to her wife.

Before she could say anything, another picture took shape before roaring to life. A funeral pyre several feet high and made of intricately woven sticks began to burn before her. Another Adora laid on it, the Sword of Protection gripped in both hands and laid over her. She wasn't in her She-Ra form, interestingly enough. Though that made sense. Killing her as She-Ra would be infinitely more difficult that catching her off-guard as simply Adora.

She didn't look peaceful, nor did she look pained. She looked dead. Which was surprising for some reason. Or maybe not. People weren't supposed to see themselves dead, watch their own still chest, wonder what killed them when nothing was overly obvious. They were just supposed to live and then die, and keep those two states wholly separate.

"I've got too many people counting on me," Adora blurted out, shocking herself with how desperate she sounded, "I don't want to die."

A pause, and then shifting at the edge of the trees as Velesta stayed away from the fire's light while creeping closer to Adora. "Then don't. I've never met anyone who escapes the cruel hands of fate quite like you." Adora wanted to point out that it was less masterful finesse that allowed her to escape destiny and more bumbling ineptitude, but the Spirit moved on before she could explain this. "I saw it myself, the future you were supposed to live. The crown you were to wear. No one predicted that it would fall apart in a single instant. The portal opened and closed before we could react. Fate itself fell apart, and then weaved back together. You were to be the Imperator back then, and you're supposed to die soon. I believe the one you call Mara has told you this, and I wish not to repeat her words. So my words of advice are this: Many will tell you that they've seen the future and, for some, that will be true. But the future isn't set, and no one can say for sure what will happen."

She didn't know what to say. What to think. Was she destined to die soon? Or not? "I'm not sure I'm following. If there are destinies, then how can I avoid anything that happens? Isn't that kind of the point of destinies? That they're unavoidable?" A crackle from the fire turned her attention from the Spirit and towards her dead self. The flames licked upwards from the bottom of the pyre, reaching up to her. She imagined lying there, and being unable to move as her skin slowly melted off and her body dripped to ash. If there was any love between her, Etheria, and She-Ra, she could only hope that she'd be taken far away. That someone would explain to her calmly that she had died and that was, in fact, okay. But she'd never found living to be particularly easy, why would dying be any different?

"Destinies, fates. All those things," the Spirit said, "They are so hard to pin down. As much as we hate to admit it, they're moving targets in our world. You see–" The pause made Adora turn back to Velesta. She tightened her hold on her reins and waited for an explanation. "You must leave the forest now, Adora. You are sought by something I cannot defeat. Leave now, and you'll stay ahead of it."

"Wait, what?"

"Run, Adora. I cannot help you." And then Velesta was gone.

Adora waited a second, two, to see if she'd come back. If Velesta would walk back to the edge of the light and say she'd been wrong—nothing was coming. But she didn't and the seconds were mounting.

A screech in the distance shot through her nerves, and caused the trees to burst with birds. Their alarm calls trailed their frantic flight before a small herd of deer galloped past and disappeared back into the trees. A boar charged after them, and it was time for Adora to leave.

She swung her horse around and…and then there were Brick and Sunny. Right there, right in front of her. She blinked, hoping this was some anxiety mirage but there they stood.

Her mind went blank. Her thoughts, mostly directed towards herself, evaporated into the night air as she looked at the young faces of Sunny and Brick. They were so eager, wanting to talk. They had no idea what headed for them. Why didn't she check to see if she was being followed? Stupid, stupid.

"Get on your horses," she hissed at the pair, "And then follow me."

"Woah, woah," Brick said, "Slow down. What did that Spirit—"

"Brick!" She interrupted. "Get on your horse, we've got to leave. Now." The unmistakable sound of trees snapping and then falling far too close made her mare buck lightly underneath her. A pair of boars, eyes wild with fear, scrambled past the trio and away from what was coming. "Hurry! I'm not messing around."

"We, uh, didn't bring our horses." Okay. Okay. She looked back. What to do? She'd outrun them on a horse, and she wasn't leaving them. This horse wouldn't be able to carry three people, and it wouldn't be able to run and jump with two. She swung down and slapped its rump. With a snort, her horse took off, disappearing into the waiting shadows. It would get home safely. She couldn't say the same about them.

"Start running," she commanded while pointing forward, "I know the way back to the castle. Come on." Sunny and Brick looked at each other before turning and sprinting away.

She hadn't gone far. Maybe a few minutes of riding into the woods was all. They could get away from…whatever was coming. They would be fine. She repeated that in her head like a mantra. Like that would make it reality.

A tree exploded a couple hundred feet to her left, sending some pieces of bark raining their way. Instinctively, she turned into She-Ra and protected all three with her sword-turned-shield. They paused, all focused on where the tree had been a second before. Movement caught her eye and she watched black claws, gleaming in the moonlight, curl around another tree. It left deep scars in the bark as it flexed its joints. But the claws weren't attached to a paw nor a talon. Human-like fingers moved around the tree trunk, except the hand was far too large and the fingers far too long to actually belong to any human.

"What the fuck?" Brick asked in a rising voice.

"Keep going! Don't stop!" Adora transformed her shield into a spear and hurled it towards the creature. She infused a little magic into it, allowing it to explode on contact. An entire chunk of forest uprooted and blasted backwards as soon as her spear hit the tree. Roots, maybe thousands of years old, yanked from the ground in huge knots and slammed into other trees before toppling them over.

"Holy shit!" Sunny yelled.

"I'll keep it away. But you two have to keep going!" Adora recalled her spear and it smacked back in her hand with a satisfying thump. She jogged after her two apprentices but kept watch for the creature. Hopefully she'd taken it out. But it would be at the cost of a sizable chunk of the Whispering Woods.

A fat droplet of rain hit her nose and then another hit her forehead and then it poured. Wonderful. Just when it couldn't get any worse. Thunder clapped in the distance, and lightning streaked across the sky.

She paused to wait for another flash of lightning in hopes of spotting something in the momentary light. When another flash came, the tentative slide of a shadow between trees told her she'd only slowed it down. The lumbering figure continued forward before night descended again and cloaked the beast. But it was far enough away that she felt comfortable catching up with Brick and Sunny.

Satisfied they could have a moment to think, Adora quickly drew the area's map in her mind. The river was just up ahead. If they could get across that quickly, they'd be out of the forest and safe. "It's not that deep, just wade through it," Adora said over the increasingly raging storm, "I'll bring up the rear." She stopped beside a tree and searched behind them. The tip of a hairless, featherless bat-like wing peaked out from a tree. She aimed her spear, hoping to catch the exact moment its body more fully emerged.

"Uhhh, Adora," Brick said, completely disrupting her concentration, "What exactly are we supposed to be wading through?"

"The river, damnnit. The river. Now, hurry." She turned back and watched a tree, about a hundred yards away, topple over. A flash of movement accompanied its fall, and the unmistakable scent of blood, heavy and metallic, washed over their position. She re-aimed at the fallen tree, still trying to get a lock on the beast's position.

"There is no fucking river."

"What?" She turned, and he was right. It was just forest as far as the eye could see. Had she gotten them lost? No. An outcropping of nearby rocks was right. It was usually by the river. "Okay, the Whispering Woods shifts every seven years. There's three different layouts, and it shifts like clockwork. Same day, same time. But it's been five since it's last change. Let me see if I can remember what the next change is like." She closed her eyes, willed her maps to conjure in her mind. But the river was always the same. Most things changed, this one didn't. Until today. "Just go! We can't stay here." She pointed at her best guess of where to run, and all three started to sprint away again.

Dirt crunched beneath the creature's feet as it stepped into the small clearing they'd just been standing in. It sniffed the air deeply and resumed its destructive path behind them. She didn't want to imagine the wreckage that this thing was leaving behind. A whole swarth of forest destroyed under its feet and for what? She shook her head and doubled in pace. That was a problem for future Adora.

Some trees caught them as they ran, their long finger-like branches reaching for them, slowing them. They pulled, they tried to stop them. They weren't on their side. And why? She'd never done anything to the Whispering Woods besides protect it. Cherish it even. And now it was shifting to trap them, moving to become maze-like. Worse still, it was doing it to Brick and Sunny. Two innocents. Two stupid, unthinking kids that were only guilty of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Now where do we go?" Sunny cried, causing Adora to shift her attention forward. Brick and Sunny stopped, and frantically searched the forest. She looked with them. Where was a path? A game trail? But there was nothing. Just dense forest in front of them and to their sides. But sitting still was absolutely a death sentence.

"Just–"

Something snapped against her face, sending pain and something wet cascading down her neck. She touched a trembling hand to her face and brought it up to her eyes. Her fingers were shiny in the moonlight with blood. She brought up her hand again, hoping to find the cut on her cheek. But then she touched something hard—her teeth. So, her cheek was gone. Ripped off.

She urged a little magic to her face, but it responded sluggishly. She could feel it moving through her veins like a thick wad of sap. Never in her life had her magic moved so slow to help her.

"Adora!?"

Without turning her face, she wordlessly pointed in a random direction. She heard the two take off once more and she began to follow at a much slower pace. Metal clanked along from somewhere behind the trio. Probably a chain of some sort. Probably the same chain that took a piece of her face off.

Another rattle to her left caused her to throw her spear indiscriminately towards the noise. The forest burst from the impact, flashing as bright and as violently as any lightning strike. Darkness fell again before another streak of lightning revealed the crater she'd personally created. Maybe this creature was destroying the Whispering Woods, but so was she.

She touched her face again, and she had a cheek. It took a minute, maybe two to regrow. Far, far too long.

They couldn't go on like this. Someone was going to get hurt or even killed. And she was powerless to stop it if her healing powers continued to lag. If Glimmer was here, they could just teleport out of the forest. But she wasn't and the forest was moving all around them, confounding any previous map or geographic layout that Adora could remember.

They were being trapped. No other way to put it. She was being outsmarted, out maneuvered by…by what? The forest? A powerful Spirit? Etheria? Whatever it was, it was ancient and hunting them down.

She had to get Brick and Sunny out of here. They were not going to die on her watch.

She closed her eyes, trying to remember a room in the castle they could spill into. A random conference room, with its expertly carved tables and chairs, came to mind. She focused on that image and concentrated every ounce of her magic on making it materialize. There was no guarantee she'd be able to open a portal cold like this. Never before had she simply conjured one with pure magic, but their options had officially run out. They'd never get out of the Whispering Woods by running around blindly and relying on luck that had long since run out.

She snapped her fingers and pointed at the place she wanted the portal to open. She drew in magic, and then some more, until the wind and rain whipped towards her, getting drawn to the massive influx of energy she'd need to open a portal. Leaves and twigs brushed across her face, her arms, her legs.

"Adora, what the fuck are you doing?" Brick yelled.

She gritted her teeth and focused on the spot in front of her. Suddenly, a small whirl of black came into existence with lazy movement. She pulled more magic in, channeling it into her portal. It didn't have to be huge, it just had to work. With excruciating seconds, the portal began to turn faster and faster before expanding in size. On the other side stood the same image she'd originally grasped onto—the plush chairs, the horse-head carved table.

"Go! Go!" Adora yelled at the pair. She closed her eyes and tried not to concentrate on the screeching behind them. Brick and then Sunny practically leapt through the portal, sending the chairs and table careening against the walls. Wings fluttered dangerously close behind Adora, making her scramble into the portal and away from the woods. She set both feet on the polished floors and began to turn around to shut the portal.

White-hot pain sliced through her back, instantly changing the floor from white to red. Before she could get a grip on what was happening, she got pulled backwards and onto the ground. Something cold and metal wrapped around her neck and yanked her off her feet. It tightened around her neck as she was dragged backwards. Back through the portal. Back to the woods. Reflexively, she tried to choke out, "No," but she couldn't speak around whatever strangled her.

And then Brick was there, trying to pry the metal off her. Animalistic fire lit his eyes as his hands worked to detangle her from the beast, and it was time to quit. He'd get pulled back with her, and there was no guarantee she could save him a second time.

With the last remaining strength she had, Adora kicked him hard enough to send him sprawling backwards. In the confusion, in the shock, in the strain, she was dragged back through the portal. She watched their faces, how they yelled, how they were crying. She saw their desperation, and then she saw nothing at all.

…

Adora opened her eyes again, and the woods were gone. Long gone. Now she stood in one of the Horde's laundry rooms. Alone. Which everything considered, was a little bit of a relief. Although if this was the afterlife, it left much to be desired.

Something smashed to the ground behind her, and she jumped around in time to see her younger self pick up a box of fallen detergent before slinking back into the shadows. So, not alone.

Industrial, once white, washing machines were stacked two high across the room. In the middle stood various bins for sorting and… well she wasn't really sure what else. She rarely got laundry duty. But she did know this room with its assortment of machinery and white tiles. She knew it well.

"Why are we here?" A familiar voice said beside her. She turned to find the same black-haired woman she'd now come to expect.

"I have no…." A kid, maybe around twelve, walked into the room and did a cursory gaze around. The other Adora was hidden well enough that he didn't see her.

"Really? Shadow Weaver wanted to see me here? The laundry?" The kid was big, bigger than Adora at that age. His light-brown fur was dull, though that wasn't unusual for the Fright Zone. His hair was short and well-kept, and his tail flicked with impatience. A Force Captain badge was pinned to his broad chest.

"Listen," a gruff voice answered, "That's what she told me. I didn't ask why. Now sit your ass down and wait, cadet." Footsteps padded away down the hallway. The kid huffed but sat down. Waiting. He didn't have to wait long.

The little Adora crept carefully, deliberately from her hiding spot. She was completely silent, like any good predator, as she stalked towards the boy. She looked at nothing else but the boy.

If there was ever a time to intervene in the past, fix a mistake, break a regret, it was right now.

Adora stepped forward to grab her younger self's arm. To save herself then, and now. But her hand passed uselessly, ghost-like through the other Adora's arm. And she had to watch as young Adora grabbed his collar and threw him backwards onto the ground. He laid there for a second, stunned, with the wind knocked out of him. She winced at the reaction. He never should've given her that opening.

Before anyone, past or present, could do anything, little Adora's fists pummeled the other kid's face with increasing ferocity. She heard the other woman inhale deeply when several bloody teeth skittered across the floor.

When she paused her barrage, the boy wheezed out, "Why are you doing this?"

The little Adora seemed to take him in, contemplate his words, his very existence. But she didn't respond. Adora waited for any explanation, but it never came. And then her fists were taking him apart again.

Her blood froze at the sight, her mind buzzed with recognition. This was no dream conjured from her wounded mind; this was a memory. As sure and as strong as the memory of Fist stuffing Anderson into one of the washers. Or that bloody crash. Or the midnight digging by that bone-white tree.

But this was different—she'd done this by herself. There were no orders, no lack of options. She'd lured him here, she'd done the damage. She couldn't argue someone else was thinking for her or that someone else was manipulating her towards violence. She'd done a lot of bad things on behalf of other people, but she'd done this for herself.

"You're going to kill him," the woman said, glancing between Adora and the violent scene. "You may have already."

And she was right. The boy didn't fight back anymore, and little Adora's fists were sinking deeper with every blow. Blood spattered the walls; it pooled on the floor. So much blood. And, yet, it was not enough for her younger self.

"Adora!" Shadow Weaver's voice sent her rigid, sent her back thirty years. She clutched the black-haired woman's arm. That tone cut to the bone, and some instinct made her flinch. A tall shadow began down the hallway, and then she was at the doorway. Rarely had she seen Shadow Weaver so surprised. Right now was one of those exceptions. It was an odd sight—Shadow Weaver flustered. The older woman's wide eyes took it all in, and she let out a barely audible gasp.

Strange how she didn't think Adora had it in her when she'd been the one to whip her into ruthless, calculating shape. How she didn't think this was the natural outcome. A child, anybody really, could only watch their friends and peers getting beat so many times before their worldview twisted. Before the abnormal became the normal. Before anger and hate became less emotional and more the way of life. In fact, the more she watched, the more Shadow Weaver's reaction made less sense. She just stood there, frozen. Surprised. When this was the least surprising thing that could've happened.

But then she seemed to snap out of it, and she scurried over to pull small Adora off the boy. Her younger self let out a piercing scream that sent Adora to her knees. She still clung loosely to the black-haired woman's hand as she watched her young self kick and scream in Shadow Weaver's grasp. "Adora!" Shadow Weaver yelled, "What did you do? What did you do?"

More people appeared, swarmed the boy. Doctors, nurses, guards. In the commotion, Shadow Weaver slipped out the door with little Adora still in her arms. And then the scene paused. Talking was cut-off mid-sentence, and this was the end of her memory.

The other woman shifted next to her, cleared her throat. She waited for a question, but none came. Adora looked up, curious about her reaction to the whole, horrific memory. Maybe she could tell Adora something she never thought of. Could provide some kind of comfort that Adora couldn't produce with conscious thought. Maybe she could make this all okay.

At last, the woman said, "I didn't think you had that kind of thing in you."

Adora thought about that thing. It crawled from her, it evolved, but it was always there. Lurking. She'd fought hard to control it: she'd walked away from a few fights, she'd kept her mouth shut when all she wanted to do was yell, and she'd left the Horde when she could've gone all in. But being She-Ra hadn't made her immune, neither had saving the universe. Maybe she'd only been that person, achieved those feats, because of that thing.

"I did. I do."

…

Some days she woke up to a surprise. She'd woken up to a fair number of battles, the warning calls of the guards on duty. One time, she'd even awoken to find an arctic moose sniffing her face. Never once had she awoken to the rain thudding against her skin while something pinned her body down.

For a second, she thought she was dreaming. She had so many dreams in the Whispering Woods, this seemed like an obvious candidate to be one. But the night sky was too real, and so was the pain at her neck. And her dreams, until recently, didn't leave her powerless quite like this: laid out on her back and the edges of her vision blurring into blackness.

The thing on top of her moved, writhed. Leathery skin glided over hers, a veiny wing stretched into her narrow view. She couldn't move. Except her hand twitched, so did her leg. But she knew better than to fight back or to say anything. With any luck, this would all be over soon, and she could go back home.

Drifting, adrift. When they did it in Darla, it was peaceful. Of course, that wasn't really drifting, they had a destination. But it was nice to imagine being lost at sea. Having a million things to do and no possible way to do them. It was one of the few times she could relax—when it felt like they were a little bit out of space and time.

She was in the Whispering Woods, but on a better day. She was in bed, listening to Catra read an interesting article aloud. She was holding infant Reyna and listening to Finn laugh. She was with Glimmer and Bow, Brick and Sunny. But she wasn't here.

And then the pain woke her up, smashed her wandering worlds to pieces. It wasn't supposed to be like this. So fucking painful. Something at her throat. Wetness moved against her neck before needle-like pain tore at the same spot. Before she even knew what she was doing, her fist came up and slammed into her assailant's stomach. It launched backwards from the impact, and crashed into the trees behind it.

She brought a hand up to her neck and moved it closer to her eyes for inspection. It was crimson red for a second before getting washed away into the night. Had it been drinking her blood? She tried to lift her head, but her muscles wouldn't listen.

Footsteps, heavy and borderline stomping, started close to her and only got closer. Instead of fighting back, instead of running away, she closed her eyes.

…

When she came back, nothing pressed against her, nothing weighed her down. She searched for the stars, her last ally on this night, but cloud cover obscured all of them. It still poured rain, and the wet cold clung to her skin before sinking further down into her bones, then her marrow.

The sound of something shifting made her freeze. She listened again—more rustling. She lifted her head, surprised to find her muscles not only working but doing so with minimal effort. She must've healed while unconscious, meaning she was out for a long, long time.

In the rain, it was so hard to see any details. But there was a shape. No, more than just a shape. It was humanoid and crouching. Pale skin, blotchy and veiny, stretched across its broad body and over the wings folded against its back. It was turned away from her, hunching over something. Rain slithered down its hairless shoulders and its bald head. And it was enormous, almost unbelievably so. It must've been at least as tall as her She-Ra form, probably taller.

And it had come to kill her.

"They will forgive me." Had it… had it just talked? Or was she hallucinating from shock and blood loss? "Forgive me. I killed her, but I stopped a war." It was talking. No doubt. But to who? But to what?

Did it matter right now? Adora slowly rolled onto her belly and began crawling. Her entire body pressed into the sinking mud. If she were twenty, she'd stand back up, she wouldn't back down. Even now, that impulse vaguely wanted attention. She was She-Ra, but she was also Mom. And so she crawled.

She looked over her shoulder, but it paid her no attention. It was still turned away, muttering. Overconfidence hurt many, maybe this time it would save her.

With every yard gained in the rain and mud, she gained what felt like a minute of life. How it hadn't noticed her missing was almost unbelievable, but she wasn't about to ask any questions.

She reached a tree and some shrubbery, and crouched behind it. If she could just keep sneaking, maybe she had a real chance of getting out of this. But where did she go? Nothing looked right, she certainly didn't remember seeing any of this. But anywhere was better than here. Crawling would still be the best option—

A high-pitched scream in her ear sent her stumbling sideways. What—?

Trees exploded around her, bark showered her face. Her body knew the mud before her mind did, and it shivered when she smashed down into the waiting dirt. She looked up in time to see a shadow move in front of her before five distinct, icy fingers wrapped around her throat.

Hot, blood-scented breath blew against her face. It dragged her closer, giving her a view of its rows of razor-sharp teeth.

"Why are you doing this?" She strangled out.

A pause. Then, "I'm saving Etheria."

"From what?"

"From you."