Catra gets a sword in this one.
Driluth's Legacy Chapter 3: Converging Fates…
'Man, it's good to be back.' Adora thought as she hopped off the skiff, grinning at the maintenance crew who advanced to make sure the skiff was properly fixed and attended to after its long flight. The outpost was a pretty boring place with not much happening at all. Shadow Weaver had been insistent on sending Adora to a more active combat area to take command of but Horde rules were strict and not even she could overrule them.
Adora was glad, though. Command was a lot different as opposed to fighting and being eased into it was a blessing she was thankful for. Though it was only a week, she felt like a different person entirely, someone who can command effectively and efficiently in order to wipe out the scourge that was the Rebellion.
Hopefully she can command the old squad this time. She would like to work with her friends. She missed them all: Lonnie, Kyle, Rogelio… Catra.
Catra.
Adora felt a strange warmth in her stomach whenever she thought of her best friend, but recently it was accompanied by a pit in her stomach and a sense of longing. Adora regretted pulling rank on Catra the way she did, but truth be told she felt it was a terrible idea. Flying a skiff into the Whispering Woods? The idea was ludicrous! Adora was in the right to do this, it was for Catra's safety.
She just wished that she had time to explain that before she was sent off to her garrison. Catra had been reclusive and barely seen by anybody between the argument and Adora's deployment, but surely she'll meet the feline again and explain properly. Catra always took some time to calm down after she sulked a bit. Adora was confident that Catra would have gotten over their argument by now. Soon everything would be back to how it should be and Catra will be with her again.
Adora realised that in her musing she had made her way to Shadow Weaver's chambers without even knowing it. The door was closed, always a bad sign. Was Catra inside? Had she done something else to warrant punishment? The mere thought sent a jolt of panic up Adora's spine and she immediately regretted leaving. She should have been around to protect Catra, should have been around to keep her out of trouble. If Adora hadn't left then maybe Catra would be—
"Adora." Shadow Weaver's voice made Adora jump. The door was open and the sorceress herself stood within. Tall and imposing, Shadow Weaver was a terrifying figure to behold. Her hair writhed as though it was alive, dark power radiated from the woman and her unblinking mask always made people want to look away. Adora was no exception, even if she would never admit it.
"Shadow Weaver." Adora snapped to attention. "Force Captain Adora reporting."
"Perfect. Come in… oh, and at ease." Shadow Weaver added as an afterthought. Adora followed the sorceress into the room, taking in the sights she had seen a hundred times over. The Black Garnet, the cursed gem similar to the ones that gave the princesses the dark powers they used to rule over the masses, glowed menacingly as always. To Adora's left was the strange arcane device that Shadow Weaver used to peer around all of Etheria. A useful tool, despite it being a magical one. Perhaps one day there will be a technological equivalent made by Modulok and they wouldn't have to resort to using magic anymore. Tech was superior, not as… esoteric and unreliable as magic.
Shadow Weaver had tried to explain the principles of magic to Adora and show the theory behind casting spells and how said spells are shaped. She then tried to have Adora decipher a magical circle with various lines and symbolic gibberish. Adora couldn't make heads or tails of it. A broken circuit board, a malfunctioning blaster or baton, those she could do. But magic was all nonsense to Adora. In fact it seemed to be the one area she consistently failed at spectacularly.
It had taken Shadow Weaver nearly a whole year and multiple explosions to realise that Adora's mind was not suited to being a sorceress and thus had to make do with that coven of hers. None of them were around now. Most members who apprenticed under Shadow Weaver often worked with Force Captains on the front lines to counter any magic users the enemy employed. Adora knew Shadow Weaver was loath to train these people, but Hordak's orders were clear. No weapon was to remain unused.
"I must congratulate you on your first successful outing as a Force Captain." Shadow Weaver told her, jolting Adora out of her thoughts.
"It was nothing, Shadow Weaver. Honestly it wasn't very… eventful." Adora admitted. She wanted to say it was absolutely boring but she had to act accordingly with her station now.
"It is to be expected. Missions such as that are to ensure that new Force Captains are capable of keeping up with the logistics of command. If one can't handle something as simple as that, they're demoted." The sorceress explained. Well, that did make sense. "If you found that to be… uneventful than I can tell that such a post was wasted on you. One week wasted when you could be accomplishing so much more." Shadow Weaver shook her head with a sigh. Adora resisted the urge to blush a bit at the praise. "No matter. I have something a bit more well suited, a push into the lands of the Rebellion to start your career."
Adora straightened, her attention fully focused on her superior.
"I'm at your command, Shadow Weaver." She declared.
"There is a small fortress on the borders of our territory. A relatively minor place or so we thought. Our intelligence has informed us that recently a cache of weapons has been moved there. You are to command an assault on the fort and find the supplies before they are used to harm our forces."
"Understood, Shadow Weaver." Adora nodded. She bit her lip and meekly asked, "Will my original squad be accompanying me as part of the main force?"
"No, they're still undergoing extra training and resorting into the military after the incident." Shadow Weaver explained.
"Incident?" Adora asked. Shadow Weaver turned, her mask's eyes wide with shock, "Oh, my child, has no one told you?"
"Told me what?" Adora questioned, trepidation entering her voice.
"Oh, dear. Nobody told you after all. I'm sorry, my child. But I have some rather sad news."
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Lonnie had just flipped open her new edition of Full Frontal Assault Titties when someone banged at the door to her squad's dorm room. Lonnie rolled her eyes and went back to drinking in the sight of a rather impressive set of abs when the frantic knocking sounded again.
"I'm on break, fuck off!" she called out, not particularly caring if it was a Force Captain or no. Hell, Hordak himself could be banging on the door and she wouldn't care. She earned her break damn it and she wasn't going to let anyone spoil her fun.
Damn, how many squats did this girl do to get glutes like that?
The knocking sounded again and Lonnie growled. "I swear to Hordak if this isn't important I'm sticking a baton so far up your ass Modulok would need to build a new mining drill to—" she threw the door open and was faced by a very incensed Adora. For a few seconds the two stared at one another, a silence that was as awkward as it was tense. Eventually, Lonnie broke the silence, "Please tell me I'm not going to get a demerit or some other bullshit."
"Tell me it's not true." Adora demanded.
"That explains literally nothing, Adora… wait, Force Captain Adora." She corrected, seeing the badge. "Is this about the magazine stash? You'll never find out who sells them."
"I'm talking about Catra! Is it true that she's gone?" Adora yelled.
'Ah, right. Her pet.' Lonnie resisted to curl a lip. "I'm very well, Adora, thanks for asking." She snarked before she realised what she was doing.
"Lonnie…" Adora's voice was a low growl, her blue eyes blazing like azure flames. Lonnie lifted her hands in surrender.
"Okay, okay, calm down." She tried to placate her squad matesuperior.
"Calm down! Catra has been caught by the princesses and is being held prisoner and you want me to calm down!?" Adora demanded.
'Ah, so that's the game the old bat's playing. Alright.' Lonnie nodded internally. Now it seems like it was up to her to spin this properly so Adora gets off her back and therefore she won't become MIA, like anyone who made the golden child cry. "Yeah, she took one of the skiffs for a joyride while muttering about an argument you had and… never came back." The faint tone of grief in her voice didn't need to be faked, much to Lonnie's surprise. She and Catra never liked one another that much, but you don't live your whole lives with someone and not forge a bond, even if the bond was one formed from animosity. Lonnie missed Catra to some extent, of that there was no doubt. Things were boring now that she's not around. Who knew.
"Oh, no…" Adora breathed in horror. "It's my fault." Lonnie's eyes narrowed as she witnessed Adora go through yet another spiral of self-pitying self-blaming nonsense. Should she say something or was Adora even going to listen?
Damn it, she had to try as Adora's friend if nothing else.
"Adora, listen to me. Catra being gone wasn't your fault." She tried to placate the blonde, but it became evident that Adora wasn't listening.
"No, I should have brought Catra with me, or went with her on the joyride because she wouldn't have wondered off and got into trouble. Damn it, it's all my fault…" Lonnie felt a fist clench as she watched Adora mumble to herself. While Lonnie would never admit it, she had a grudging respect for Catra. The girl took everything life threw at her (including Lonnie herself) and kept on going, refusing to break under the pressure. She may have followed Adora around like a pet, but she had the spark to be more. Hell, she respected Catra more than Adora to be honest. Adora had everything handed to her on a silver plate by that magic addicted bitch while Catra had to claw for everything she has.
So seeing Adora treat Catra like this, even if it wasn't actively malicious, made Lonnie's blood boil. She wanted nothing more than to tear into Adora and call her an utter fool. Lonnie barely restrained herself from doing so and asked in a clipped tone, "Was there anything else, Force Captain?" oh, how she wanted to lace the title with as much derision as possible, but she held back, for now. Fortunately it snapped Adora out of her tirade.
"Yes, actually. There's to be an assault that I'll be commanding. Our squad is part of the force so you'll get a briefing. We're attacking a Rebellion fortress that's stockading weapons."
"Oh, what's this place called?" Lonnie asked. Then she snapped her fingers, "Oh, right. I remember, it was all the talk for the past week ago after you went to your post. I think it's called—"
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"Thaymor?" Catra asked, wondering where she heard that name before.
"Yup, we're heading over to attend a festival." Spinnerella explained.
The family (and Catra) were all sitting around a table, eating a dinner which consisted of various different vegetables (mash, broccoli, carrots, peas and corn) alongside a new type of food that the adults promised Catra would really like. Catra didn't understand how a type of marine lifeform would be so tasty, though. This sentiment lasted all of five seconds into the meal when she had taken her first experimental bite. The next thing everyone knew the fish on Catra's plate had disappeared.
"A festival…" Catra rolled the word on her tongue.
"Is that another word you don't know?" Aeola asked. Catra huffed, "Of course I know what a festival is!" she insisted. Aeola gave a look that showed that she severely doubted her but didn't comment. The little squirt probably feared being on the receiving end of Catra's brand of grooming again. Her hair had been stuck up everywhere for hours last time.
"Some friends of ours live there and they're celebrating the town's hundredth year. We thought we'd pop over for some real fun before we get back to work." Netossa explained.
"Aw, you're leaving again?" Aeola whined.
"I'm sorry, little cloud, but we have to." Spinnerella sighed. She meant it too, Catra knew this. They truly didn't want to leave their daughter behind but had to in order to protect Rebellion territory.
She wished someone cared about her enough to feel like that.
Catra shook the errant thought and refocused on the conversation.
"Am I coming?" Aeola asked.
"Of course you are. Catra as well." Spinnerella informed her. Catra nearly choked on a carrot.
"Whoa, hold on now. Why do I need to come?" she asked. Netossa smiled at her, "Well, we thought we'd show you some nice things before we decide what to do next. If you want to leave then this can be one hell of a send-off, no?" then the white haired woman chuckled, "Also there was the incident with the wall and the hole you put in it."
"Hey, that light was taunting me!" Catra protested. Spinnerella resisted the urge to giggle. The accident had been her fault after all. She was wearing a bracelet that reflected the light in a certain way that got Catra's attention and decided to play around with it, leading to Catra shredding a wall to catch it.
"Plus while we do try to respect your autonomy, your previous outing was… not ideal." Spinnerella grimaced.
Ah, yes. The shopping incident. Catra had been asked to do the shopping for groceries and due to not knowing what half the things on the list even were prompted an argument that nearly led to the stall being destroyed and Catra being banned from any shop in the village of Dawnshard for a week.
"You both suck." Catra sulked, causing some chuckles to come from the family. "Sure, fine. I'll come, staying here and looking after the place will get boring."
"You can admit you like us, you know." Netossa teased. Catra gave her a mean look which unfortunately had little to no effect despite it working on numerous cadets who tried to mess with her. "Anyway, we'll get some provisions ready so you'll have a half hour before we go."
"Can we play outside?" Aeola piped up, bouncing on her seat a little. Catra, despite feigned boredom, felt her ears flick up at the question.
"Sure, just stay near the house and come back when we call you so you can pack as well." Spinnerella smiled at them. Aeola darted out the front door on her cloud, dragging a protesting Catra for another game of tag which the magicat refused to admit she enjoys.
"I wonder, do Horde children ever have a chance to be children?" Spinnerella asked after a few moments of silence, sadness seeping into her voice.
"Considering how Catra gets when she thinks nobody's watching her play with Aeola…" Netossa grimaced. "Not to mention how Catra keeps waking up in the night and sleeping anywhere other than her bed."
"We should take it up with the queen about reconsidering our POW policies. If every soldier has that level of trauma…" Spinnerella shuddered at the thought. Netossa had a similar look of perturbation on her face as she glanced out the window to see Aeola dodging a bounding Catra, giggling all the while and seeing the look of sheer joy on Catra's face.
"Should we tell her?" Netossa asked. "I know we agreed to give her time and respect her boundaries, but if the queen is still waiting for our report on her. She'll want an answer soon, whether Catra's ready or not."
"We will talk after the festival and see where we go from there. But we must do so with tact. Catra is quite… skittish, after all."
"Skittish is not the word I would use after the panic attack she had when she knocked over a vase." Netossa snorted. "I will find the one who did this to her and tear them apart."
"So long as you save some for me, darling." Spinnerella told her wife. "Now, shall we get the horses ready?"
Meanwhile, as Catra leapt and pounced after the giggling cloud rider, the name of the village still echoed in her mind.
Why did Thaymor sound so familiar?
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Preparations for the assault were on schedule. Adora poured over the mission parameters and diagrams of the enemy fort for the third time in the previous ten minutes, looking for any hint of weakness or something to exploit that she hadn't found before. After a few more checks she turned back to the roster of her own forces.
The forty fifth assault division was a typical formation for hard and fast attacks on fortified areas. Such divisions were primarily used for flanking operations and attacks on isolated forts like Thaymor. There were eight squads consisting of ten soldiers each, mostly armed with basic laser weaponry save for one or two troopers with specialised guns such as plasma and heavy weapons for dealing with more heavily armoured foes. She arched a slight brow at the listing for the tank divisions, consisting of six heavily armoured vehicles.
"They gave them names?" she muttered. AT-05 tanks all had the same basic pattern, containing a large cannon and two mounted pintle weapons on each side designed to fire turrets of various ballistic types. They were easy to maintain, simple to modify and efficient on the battlefield. Adora had memorised each design and ensured she knew what type of warfare they were made for. She expected to have simple numbers used to identify these tanks by, but names confused her. Apparently the troopers had named their vehicles (and sometimes their own weapons for some weird reason) based on feats of the past. It truly bewildered her.
"Destroyer, Rebel Blaster… Cow Crusher?" she frowned. "What the hell even is a cow, some sort of Rebellion military unit—"
"Adora." Adora yelped, throwing several papers into the air in the process as she whirled around to face Shadow Weaver. She attempted to snap to attention while grabbing for the papers but succeeded only in making herself look like Kyle with a stun baton. She felt her ears turn red and decided to just simple stand to attention. If the witch was annoyed or amused by Adora's response (she highly suspected it was the latter) she gave little sign. "How fares the preparations?" Relieved at being able to divert the subject from her blunder, Adora turned to the map on the wall.
"Preparations for assault force are proceeding on schedule. We'll have boots on the ground come 1300 and if our intelligence is correct then we will be at the fortress within the hour."
"Hmm, and what does Hordemind think?" Shadow Weaver asked. Adora pressed her lips together. Hordemind was the supercomputer designed by Hordak himself to oversee the war efforts and the logistics involved. It dealt in the infrastructure, resource management and planning for the war effort. On one hand Adora found it to be a marvel of engineering and proof of the Horde's supremacy, on the other hand it creeped her the hell out. Hordemind was an oddly unnerving thing and Adora suspected it was being very deliberate about it, often speaking up casually when it overheard conversation and delivering some rather ominous messages seemingly for its own amusement.
There had been many theories on what Hordemind is, with one of Adora's favourite ones being that it was just the Imp in a box tapping away at a computer.
The mental image made her squeal a bit at the cuteness.
"Hordemind predicts a high chance of victory, even if we run into complications. Princesses have been known to abandon outskirt forts like this in a hurry. The battle will be fully over by sundown."
"I'm confident you'll have it done in half that time, Adora." Shadow Weaver crooned. Adora had long since perfected the art of quashing any indignation or anger at the witch for her demands and expectations. There was no point in complaining and Shadow Weaver's expectations were never as unachievable as one would think.
"R-right. The rebels only have on wall to deter any invaders. For a border fort it's not all that well defended." She reported.
"The tyrants who lead the Rebellion keep the best of all things for themselves, Adora. Never forget that." Shadow Weaver informed her. Adora didn't suppress the anger that blazed within her this time.
"Of course the princesses don't care about their people. The Horde will treat them far better than those damn monarchs ever will."
"I'm sure we will." Shadow Weaver drawled. Adora never truly understood the concept of sarcasm the same way most others did and therefore didn't catch on to the tone the witch used and the falsehood laced within.
Hell, she often had Catra around to point out if someone was being sarcastic.
A sudden pang went through Adora as she turned to Shadow Weaver, who was currently having several tendrils of darkness pick up the fallen papers and place them neatly on the desk. Hesitantly she asked, "Has there been any word about Catra? Did your… spies, find her?" the witch stilled for a few moments before she resumed picking up the papers.
"I'm afraid no trace has been found. Perhaps she is lost to all of us." Shadow Weaver carefully moderated her tone. As dense as Adora was, she could have moments of surprising insight every now and again. That aside, Shadow Weaver was being truthful. Her wraiths had found little if any trace of Catra at all, not even any indication that she was dead. It annoyed her to no end because this meant Adora seemed to constantly worrying over the useless wretch and not performing her duties.
Even absent, that damn feline was a nuisance.
Thankfully Adora didn't raise a massive ruckus over this. She merely looked down at her feet and let out a dejected, "Oh."
"Have no fear, Adora. If she is found, you will be the first to know." The witch promised. A pair of tendrils curled around behind her back in a style awfully reminiscent of two fingers crossing. Adora seemed to buy as her face brightened up, "Thank you Shadow Weaver! In the meantime I'll do everything within my power to take down the princesses."
"Good. Remember that this is your trial by fire, Adora. The finalisation of your promotion hinges upon leading this attack successfully. Hordak himself will be judging your progress." Shadow Weaver informed her.
"Lord Hordak…" Adora breathed in shock. Then she nodded. "I will succeed." She then turned back to the table and redoubled her strategizing, sparing one final thought for Catra's wellbeing.
'Eh, she's probably fine.'
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When Catra landed on the ground the first thing she did was get as far away as she could from the infernal beast that will forever haunt her nightmares. Initially she believed that the two princesses would take a magical version of a skiff, something she knew the Etherian Alliance had from her classes back in her early cadet days. However apparently those things were rare and weren't used unless it was important and apparently transporting two princesses to another town wasn't considered important by said princesses.
Catra made a mental note to kick her cadet teacher in the face for lying to her. Princesses did know what humility was.
However despite that interesting revelation, this led to the worst hour of Catra's life as she was forced to ride atop the abomination that made it's strange noises even now.
"Mama, why is Catra scared of the horse?" Aeola asked.
"I have no idea. Catra, come back!" Spinnerella called out as she dismounted. Netossa followed, having had to be the one who rode with Catra spent most of the time keeping Catra in check as much as she kept said horse on course.
"I am never going on that thing again!" Catra yelled, not approaching at all. Netossa rolled her eyes as the family walked up to Catra, guiding their horses. Catra hid behind Spinnerella, hissing at the horses with slit pupils.
"I'll find a stable for them, you guys have fun." Netossa told the others. "Try not to claw anyone's eyes out, Catra."
"No promises are made." Catra spoke in an evil tone as the vile abominations were led away. She could have sworn one of them gave her a dark look and she vowed to find a way to kill it before it killed her. As soon as they were out of sight she straightened up in an attempt to regain what little dignity she had left. "So, what do we do for fun around here?"
"Well, there's some stores, a few shows and plenty of games and competitions." Spinnerella explained. Catra perked up at the mention of competitions and Spinnerella realised she may have made a mistake mentioning those.
"Competitions you say?" the magicat purred. One particular thing that Spinnerella noticed about Catra is that when properly motivated to do something her competitive side rivalled Netossa's, a feat the wind user thought to be impossible.
"Let's see what we find first." Spinnerella suggested, hoping to the gods of old that they found the stores first.
Thankfully it was a bookstore with a satyr manning the counter. The man smiled at the newcomers as they all entered the building.
"Hello there, anything I can interest you ladies in?" he offered kindly.
"I'm guessing there's a children's section." Spinnerella assumed. The clerk nodded and helpfully gestured to an area that had some toys as well as books. Aeola grinned and skipped over to the area, scanning for anything interesting.
"Is there anything like what mama reads?" she asked. Spinnerella jumped a bit and tapped her fingers together.
"Ah, um, I doubt those would be of any interest to someone of your age." She stammered. Aeola tilted her head in confusion.
"Oh, why?" she asked innocently.
"Anyway, Catra, is there anything that catches your fancy?" Spinnerella spoke loudly. Catra looked around in mild alarm as she tried to find something that could catch her eye.
"Uh, let me have a look." She said, ambling around the various shelves. She had read a few books at the princesses' house but nothing in particular really jumped out at her. Netossa was a crime fanatic while Spinnerella preferred romance. Catra wasn't particularly big on crime novels, mainly because she had technically committed multiple thefts of her own accord, and the romance books made her think of Adora enough to make her slightly homesick.
Eventually she meandered into the fantasy area and while a lot of the books didn't seem to jump out at her, one did catch her eye.
Tales of the First Necromancer
A trilogy book series, by the looks of things with the same naming theme centred around this 'necromancer' thing.. The Rise, the Reign and the Fall respectively. She must have been staring at it for a while because soon enough Spinnerella's shadow fell over her. Catra looked back to see the older woman smiling at her.
"Are you interested?" she asked in a genuine voice. Catra found herself clutching her tail, a nervous habit she thought she had curbed years ago.
"I, um… I don't have any money." She stammered out.
"Oh, no need to worry about that." Spinnerella waved a hand. "I'm sure Netty will read it if you don't." she took the books off the shelf and went over to the clerk. Catra stared after the woman for several moments, her brain trying to process what happened. Spinnerella was just going to give her the books? There were no demands that Catra owe her later or threats to not tell anyone? Not for the first time Catra wondered how the hell someone as soft as these princesses could ever be fighters, much less ones as terrifying as the Horde propaganda made them out to be.
Even so, she couldn't help the smile that began to form on her face.
There was no way it could get any better than this.
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Catra was wrong, she was so wrong and she loved it. She had attended multiple stands all with various competitions and prizes to be won. She had no interest in the prizes themselves and gave any stuffed animals she won to Aeola. She had done darts, which she hadn't been the best at. Apparently darts and throwing knives didn't work the same way. She also tried this thing called a sketching contest where she was handed a pencil and paper and asked to draw whatever she saw. In this she did far better with the princess family being awestruck over what she considered middling talent at best as she showed her sketch the very bookshop she had been before.
"It's not that great." She had protested.
"It could do with some polishing but I think with a few tries you could become a real artist!" Netossa had responded with such certainty that Catra felt her entire face heat up. Once again she was thankful for her fur covering her face. The Horde had considered her tendencies to draw on whatever scrap paper she found to be a waste, with Shadow Weaver herself ripping up a lot of old sketches of the Fright Zone personally in front of Catra for 'wasting Horde resources and what little talent she had on childish scribbles'.
When Catra had told Spinnerella that (without mentioning names, of course) the princess' eyes flared with a wrath that was somehow alien to Catra, even though she understood rage and hate better than anyone.
"Catra, if anyone says that what you enjoy doing is a waste, point me at them and I will literally throw them into a tornado." She told the magicat, with Netossa making her own vow of violence when she heard of it.
'These princesses are going to be the death of me.' Catra realised at that moment.
What she truly excelled at however was the shooting range. The weapons weren't the usual blasters the Horde liked to employ, rather they were these weapons called crossbows. Catra noted that these ones weren't as magically advanced as the ones she learned about. Those weapons could easily pierce through Horde armour despite their primitive look.
She had gotten the first shot wrong, but quickly remedied that, landing some fairly decent shots afterwards. She wasn't the best markswoman around to be honest. Kyle was a much better shot than her (but then again he was one of the best shooters in the squad period, much to everyone's surprise).
And now here she stood before a strange button attached to a tower, holding a rather large hammer in her hand.
"Hit the button as hard as you can." The person attending the stall instructed her. Catra tested the hammer in her hands. It was a big hammer, unwieldy and not something she would use. Rogelio would probably love this weapon, but she wasn't one for raw strength. Even so, she never backed down from a challenge. Catra rolled her shoulders and took a stance, readying herself to swing. She brough the hammer down as hard as she could, causing a puck to ascend up the tower at least three quarters of the way up.
"Two more tries!" the vendor called out.
"Come on, Catra!" Aeola cried. Catra huffed and braced herself again, doing her best to ignore the whispers of some bulky looking minotaurs to her left. She swung again, this time only reaching halfway.
"Oh, dear. Losing wind a bit, eh? One more round, come on!" the vendor hollered. This sparked some laughter from the minotaur gang, one even advancing to take the hammer. Catra yanked the weapon away with a growl.
"He said one more go." She told the hulking lady.
"Whatever you say, kitty." The bull woman snorted. Catra watched her retreat back to her gang and raised the hammer again. She breathed deep, feeling her muscles relax then tense as she prepared for the biggest swing she could manage.
"Going to swing any time today, kitty cat?" someone yelled out.
"Bet she can barely lift that hammer."
"She does look like she's struggling."
"She shouldn't push herself."
"Weak. Always has been." The last voice made her jump. It was a voice belonging to someone who shouldn't be there, a voice that always sparked fear in her soul. But now it sparked something else.
"Catra, if you're struggling…" Spinnerella offered.
"I'm fine." Catra's words came out as a growl, deeper than she intended. Spinnerella backed away and had Catra been looking she would have felt guilt at the expression on the woman's face. Catra took a deep breath and thought of every single insult that had been levied at her, here and in the past. Voices converged into a static of murmuring whispers and insults, some hissed when those uttering them thought she couldn't hear and some who had the guts to say them to her face. The noise grew louder, her hackles began to rise and a growl rumbled in her throat. Her teeth ground together, her arms flexed and she felt something surge within her in that brief moment.
With a roar she swung the hammer, slamming it down onto the lever with enough force to make the ground tremble and cause the puck to hit the bell with such force it blew straight off and into the sky. Netossa swiftly caught it with a thread, thankfully. Everyone was momentarily silenced at the display.
That was of course until Aeola began cheering. Catra turned and grinned roguishly at the family before offering a smug look at the minotaur group, tossing the hammer to the one who tried to take it earlier.
"Have fun." She said.
She made it to the family before she stumbled, a sudden rush of fatigue deadening her limbs.
"Are you okay?" Spinnerella asked, her voice tinged with concern.
"I'm fine, I just… must have overextended. It happens." Catra waved it off.
"You broke the machine, that's a bit more than just 'overextending' there." Netossa remarked flatly. "How did you pull that off?"
"I don't know." Catra answered honestly. "I felt this… surge go through me. It was like adrenaline but so much more potent."
"Magicats have been known to possess abilities that enhance their physical prowess. I'm surprised you tapped into them only now. Your kind wield magic with the same ease as breathing." Spinnerella mused as the group began to walk through the stalls. She missed how Catra seemed to freeze up, staring into the distance with horror in her eyes.
"I have… magic?" Catra's voice was almost a whimper. She should have figured it out, she was literally called a magicat! How could she have been so stupid? It all made sense why nobody liked her. Magic was a shunned practice in the Horde, perhaps somehow everyone but her knew of her magic and thus hated her because all magic did was hurt and cause pain and—
"Hey, you good?" Netossa asked, jolting Catra out of her dark thoughts.
"I don't have magic." She insisted. "And if I did I sure as hell won't use it."
"Not a fan, I take it?" Netossa inquired.
"No." Catra's word was a whisper, seething with all manner of emotions, none of them good.
"Want to talk about it afterwards?" the thread user asked.
"No." Catra shut that idea down immediately. Honestly, what's with these princesses and talking about their problems? What good does that do? And like hell she was ever going to tell these two about her past. It doesn't matter what Shadow Weaver did or how nice these princesses actually are, they would lock her up the second they knew she was part of the Horde. Catra looked up, scanning the area for something to change the subject and found her eyes drawn to one particular stall ran by an elderly satyr gentleman. Without meaning to, she found herself walking towards it, eyes locked on one particular item. The satyr looked up and smiled.
"Well, now. Here was I thinking you lot had all but disappeared. Interested in this, eh?" he said in a wheezing voice. The item in particular was a weapon. A sword, but it was unlike any other sword Catra had ever seen in her life. It started straight but then the blade curved like a sickle. It wasn't particularly long, maybe about two feet in length. The guard of the sword had an image of a cat's eye, which was the only decoration the blade seemed to have.
"A Driluthian khopesh." The old man explained. "Quite a favoured weapon among the magicats before the Horde destroyed Halfmoon." Catra couldn't take her eyes of the sword, her entire being was drawn to the weapon. It wasn't that it was merely familiar, something about it seemed to call out to her. A part of her that remembered and dreamt of a life before the Horde desired the blade.
"I wasn't aware weapons were being sold at this festival." Spinnerella spoke, a hint of reprimand in her voice.
"I have no intention of selling it to any child, if that's your concern, madam. Truth be told I was hoping some collector of artefacts and relics would see this and desire it for their collection. Though, maybe it was fate. After all, a weapon such as this being found by a magicat is surely the work of something greater, no?"
"Catra?" Netossa gently nudged the magicat in question. Catra jolted, realising that her hand had been slowly reaching for the sword.
"Want to give it a try?" the old man offered. Catra glanced uncertainly at the two adults. They merely shrugged.
"Whatever you'd like, just be careful." Spinnerella told her.
How helpful.
Catra sighed and decided that she'd seen plenty of weird Rebellion mumbo jumbo, what's a bit more craziness to add to the mix? She reached out for the weapon hanging from the rack and as soon as she touched it—
—she ducked as a Horde soldier swung at her head, slicing through his guts and wrenching the khopesh out. Her brothers and sisters hacked and sliced as a fresh wave of Horde soldiers charged in to die for their dread master.
"Hold fast!" she roared. "We must hold so that our people may survive!"
"They outnumber us by the dozens!" one companion cried.
"Then it's good we are worth of a hundred of them. For Halfmoon!"
She fought and she fought and she fought, until a tide of shadows lashed out and knocked her—
—flat on the ground? Why was she on the ground?
"Catra, are you okay?" Aeola cried, circling around her on her little cloud thing. Catra groaned as she slowly sat up, her head still spinning from the vision she had.
"What happened?" she slurred.
"You touched that weapon." Netossa spoke, levelling an accusing stare at the old man. "You know selling cursed weapons is a crime, yes?"
"I assure you, the weapon isn't cursed." The store owner insisted. "But I heard legends of how a fragment of the previous bearer's warrior spirit would inhabit the blade and grant visions to the current bearer of the sword. It seems it has chosen you, young lady." He gave a small huff of laughter. "I'm not one to believe in destiny, but perhaps our meeting is the work of a greater power?"
"Don't spout nonsense, old man." Catra growled as she stood up. "I just had some sort of reaction to your stupid sword. It's not magic, I'm not magic. I'm not destined for that hunk of metal."
"Suit yourself." The satyr shrugged.
"Catra, maybe you should take it. Maybe that sword belongs to you by right. It is from your people after all." Spinnerella suggested.
Her people. Catra stiffened as memories, not from that sword but from a time she tried so hard to forget began to trickle into her mind. Memories of a life stolen from her. Memories of a life she could have had but was denied by everyone around her. Her teeth became bared in a snarl as she turned to the heavyset wind user.
"They're not my people." She hissed. "I don't have a people. I never did." With that she turned and stormed off, tail lashing in agitation. She felt a hand grab at her shoulder and someone calling to her, but she didn't want to hear it. She slashed with a claw. "Don't touch me." She snapped. Her red haze dropped when she saw Spinnerella flinch back, blood dripping from her forearm. Blood that she had spilled. But that wasn't what caught Catra's gaze.
It was the eyes. Spinnerella's eyes were wide with shock and betrayal, as though the idea of Catra hurting her was an unthinkable prospect. Netossa looked similarly shocked but her expression morphed into a frown and Aeola… the little girl was hiding behind her mother, eyes large and frightened.
"I…" Catra tried to speak, but no words would come. She didn't know what to say. Her guts coiled and twisted like someone had stuck a chainsword into them. So she did the best thing she could. Catra turned and ran as fast as she could.
"Catra!" Spinnerella cried out. She started forward but Netossa grabbed her by the shoulder.
"Give her time. I think she needs to cool off a bit." The thread user told her. "Plus we need to take a look at that cut."
"It's not too bad. I've had worse. I don't know why she lashed out like that, though. Does magic scare her that much?" Spinnerella mused.
"Mama, why did she hurt mum?" Aeola asked. Netossa sighed, "I don't know, cloudling. I really don't know." Spinnerella casted a forlorn gaze in the direction Catra had run off to.
"Let's see if we can find her. I don't think she's doing too well at the moment."
00000000
Catra was indeed not doing well. In fact it took everything not to turn her claws on herself like she had done in the past when she struck Adora by accident.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! Catra growled to herself as she stalked through the crowd. Every hair was on edge as she lambasted herself for her actions.
'Just what the hell is wrong with me? They wanted to help and I push them away? Why would I do that?'
She had fucked up. She'd hurt people who trusted her.
Again.
Why the hell did she keep on doing that? Every time she got close to someone other than Adora she ended up pushing them away! It was maddening. At first she believed that nobody really wanted to be her friend because of Shadow Weaver and she pushed them away before Shadow Weaver would do something to them just for the crime of hanging around her.
But that was a viable excuse in the Fright Zone, not outside its borders. Now she had no excuses, only the horrible knowledge that Shadow Weaver may have been right about her. All she did was take from people and hurt people even when they extended kindness to her unworthy self. There was no use trying to resist the inevitable. If she stayed with the family, she would hurt them again. Which meant that Catra needed to leave.
Luckily there were quite a few means of doing that. Catra knew that people brought carriages here so if she stowed away on one she could sneak out. She would be out of their hair and she would be forgotten.
Do you really think that?
Catra grimaced as she kept walking around, heading to the outskirts of the town where she can find the perfect place to stow away on, but her footsteps were sluggish and hesitant.
Do you really want to leave?
Catra grit her teeth and hastened her stride for all of five seconds before sighing and slumping against a nearby house. This wasn't like leaving the Horde. The only person she had was Adora and though Catra missed her, Adora would probably be better off with her and it's not like she had no reason to leave. Shadow Weaver was going to kill her!
Except that was back then, this is now and now she has no excuse. Catra groaned and rubbed her temples. Ever since she stayed with those princesses she's been feeling funny. She would often think about living her life there, being cared for by those two and had even voluntarily allowed them to scratch her ears.
She hadn't done that for Adora in six years and all of a sudden she felt at ease enough for a pair of strange ladies with magic powers to do it? It made no sense.
She was probably going insane, or complacent. Frankly, she wasn't sure which one was worse. And yet it had felt so damnably good. For the first time in who knows how long she felt safe, a state that was so foreign to her that she's only realising this now. Where else would she find that level of safety and trust? Where else would she strike that lucky? They wouldn't hurt her, she knew that despite all the lingering paranoia brought on by propaganda and every disappointment she'd ever suffered in life.
And Aeola, the little girl who didn't call her a freak just to impress her friends. The little girl who laughed and giggled and loved to play with Catra, not a hint of the cruelty that so many others her age had shown in her life. Aeola was never afraid of her, either. She never flinched away like a lot of the Horde kids did back in the day, whether it was out of ignorance or trust, Catra could never tell.
But then you had to ruin that by slashing her mother, didn't you?
The voice, so eerily similar to Shadow Weaver's, whispered into her mind. It was right, though. What would Aeola think now that Catra had hurt her mother like that? She probably feels the same way everyone else does now.
Better to leave. Those three were better off without a leech like her around. Catra cast one last forlorn look to where she had fled from before she turned. Her ears flicked about, searching for any signs of a means to escape.
"… try this one, dear…"
"… imported from Plumeria, the finest…"
"… very nice day, think it's going to…
"… I just don't feel very safe, honey."
What? Catra tilted her head and focused on the last sentence. Picking out sounds was a learned skill, one she found incredibly useful. Normally she practiced it by looking for mice in the subterranean levels of the Fright Zone where all the machinery clanked and droned, but it was good for picking out voices too.
"Darling, it's alright, the fortifications are solid and there are plenty of guards around."
"Guards, not soldiers. This is a border village, why are we having a festival here instead of somewhere deeper into Brightmoon territory?"
"It'll be fine. Thaymor won't get attacked."
Thaymor won't get attacked…
Thaymor won't get attacked…
Thaymor won't…
Thaymor.
Thaymor.
"Oh, fuck." Catra felt her breath quicken as the name of the village struck her with a new and terrible clarity.
"The hell's all this about the Horde making a new push?" she remembered asking Lonnie before she made her escape attempt.
"Yeah, some border village called Thaymor. Pretty easy pickings, apparently. Attack's due in about a week or something."
"Oh, I hope I get to be there. I hope they give me a tank."
"Fat chance they'll give you a tank, Catra."
No.
No.
No. No, no, no no no nononononono…
Catra felt her stomach churn and had to resist the urge to vomit. She leaned against a nearby stall, her ears ringing and unable to register the people asking if she was alright. These people who had no idea what was coming, looking at her with so much concern and they were all going to die because this is where the Horde makes their push and Catra needed to breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe breathe breathebreathebreathe.
Catra felt herself fall to a knee while someone was calling a guard and pointing to her.
"Ma'am, are you okay?" the man said. Catra looked up at his helmed face. "Ma'am? Do you need a doctor?"
"Get everyone out of here." Catra told him.
"I'm sorry?" the soldier frowned.
"I said get everyone the hell out of here!" Catra snapped before she turned and ran for the nearest fort wall, uncaring of who or what she knocked over in the process. She bounded up the wall, claws digging in as she surged upwards, eventually landing on the ramparts. A nearby guard jumped back, startled.
"Hey, you're not supposed to be up here." He told her. Catra didn't respond, her eyes were locked onto the forest in the distance. She squinted, tracking for any source of movement for several moments. She turned to the guard who was still imploring her to get down.
"Magnifier." She ordered with an authority she didn't know she possessed.
"I'm sorry?" the guard asked, flatfooted.
"Image magnifier, I need one. Now." Catra demanded, holding a hand out.
"You mean a scope?" he asked. "Why would you need one?" another guard had come over and apparently had such a device. She shrugged and extended it, looking over to where Catra was. She gasped softly and Catra realised that she had been right.
"Take cover!" she roared. No sooner had she bellowed those words, her vision turned to green as a cannon shot struck the wall, blowing her off and sending her sailing through the air. Before she crashed to the ground the world turned to slow motion like it did when she entered her state of focus and she saw what she feared.
A tank was emerging from the forest, along with several soldiers.
The Horde was here.
Me at the start of this chapter: Okay, should be fine, don't go too crazy.
Me at the end after the largest chapter I've ever written: HOW THE HELL DID THIS HAPPEN!?
On another note, did I get you with the notes at the top? Yeah, Catra won't get the Sword of Protection. But don't worry, this sword also does cool shit.