Engineering Ethics and Entropy

by Kridxen

Summary:

The world is broken.
As the Horde’s endgame draws closer, the Hierophant Alliance turns to a final, desperate gamble: recruiting Vice General Adora Starborn. But what begins as a failed operation soon spirals into something no one could have predicted.
Entrapta arrives in Brightmoon with a plan to argue for the use of lethal munitions—but finds herself compromising, negotiating, and eventually doing things she never imagined just to get a seat at the table. Each decision carries a cost, and the further she climbs, the more haunted by her past she becomes.
What follows is a story of war, memory, and ethical collapse, and reality itself begins to come apart.
And beneath it all, a former friend watches from the shadows—waiting to make her final cut.
A story of ethical collapse, psychological manipulation, war crimes, body horror, and the slow erosion of love in the face of impossible choices.

Chapter 1: Zeno’s Arrow

 

Reading mood music over here -

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_egA9RZrD5k&t=9s

And then, as all heavenly visions a dreamer would make, it burst as inevitably any pearlescent bubble would.

Time slowed.  He could see the arrow, frozen between him and the queen.  Bow had released it from his fingertips, his stomach dropped.  His mind was still catching up, locked in a quiet shock.  He just shot an arrow at Glimmer.  He saw the way her gaze was resolute, confident in facing death.  He knew that her desperate, suicidal act would save thousands.  Even if the experimental arrow was lethal, the alliance would have a real chance.  It was too good a moment to do nothing.  Something was wrong though.  Why did he fire his bow in the first place?  Why would he shoot Adora?

The figure before him was a stranger… Wasn’t she?  She was in a dark, gleaming plate that swallowed the light. Gone was her hair poof, the casual smile, the red blazer and brown slacks that she always seemed to wear.  Even after the  Horde had fallen.  Instead, he saw the cold gleam of mettle and the shadow of a warrior he barely recognized. Is that really Adora? he wondered, suspended in the next heartbeat.  The arrow halved its distance again.  He could tell the true, strong memories were evaporating from his mind like breath wiped across a mirror, leaving only his true reflection.  The one that lived here. 

 

They were always enemies.  Why would Vice General Adora ever wear anything but armor?

 

A moment later, Adora’s blade was pressed against Glimmer’s throat. His wife’s wide, terrified eyes locked onto his.  The arrow stuttered again, another halfway to its destination.  Glimmer’s lips were frozen, they shaped words he couldn’t hear—I love you—but there was no time to respond.  Bow could see every detail: the old scar tracing Glimmer’s cheek, the red mark just beneath her eye from a battle long ago. Every memory hurtled back to him, mingling with the ache of knowing how close she stood to death now.

This can’t be happening. But the arrow kept moving, and it would land.

In a flash, Glimmer teleported the two of them five feet back. Bow’s arrow hit the tree beside them, exploding into a burst of lethal concussive force that shook the clearing, splintering bark and ringing in their ears.  Glimmer scrambled to get out of Adora’s space.  Adora’s hand snatched at Glimmer’s shoulder armor only to snap closed, holding the remains of pink, winking sparkles that remained.  She arced her bastard sword wide barely missing Glimmer winking back into existence nearby.  The queen twisted back with a fearful shout.  

Adora got her feet underneath herself, the ringing in their ears becoming less and less.  Finally the first thing they clearly heard was Adora’s grim, cold voice saying, “You missed.”

Bow’s stomach twisted, a knot of anger, grief, and the crushing weight of certainty.  This was no friend.  This was Adora.  Horde through and through—a machine of war.  A stranger.

Instinct pulled him back, hand clasped tight around Glimmer’s.  He turned to flee, his mind repeating a mantra to numb the ache: She’s our enemy.  She’s always been our enemy.

But as they vanished in Glimmer’s teleport, part of him remained suspended in that moment, caught forever in the paradox—mid-flight, mid-betrayal, questioning if, in another life, the arrow could ever reach a different end.

 

Adora reached back in her mind trying to remember just how she got here.  That’s right.  This was a risky operation.  Her plan had been to create some false documents and distribute them through the Horde ranks to test the security of their ‘classified’ status.  When she received information requesting a meeting in the whispering woods it was an unfortunate confirmation that it was faulty.  When she heard just who was going to process their defection to the alliance, she couldn’t resist actually showing up to the meeting.  

Her hand went to her ear, activating the radio there,  “Did you get pictures?”

“Yeah let’s see them try to hide now!” Catra’s gleeful voice responded.

 

Glimmer and Bow ran until they were ragged, trusting that the forest would keep them safe.  When they could run no more they fell to their knees and rear, catching their breath.  Glimmer was first to speak, “I can’t believe that you thought that was going to work.  I told you that she was the second in command of the Horde.  If anyone was going to defect it was going to be someone like a Force captain, lower council rep. or a director!”

Though she had more, she was quieted by the silent king coming over to tightly hold her in his arms.  His voice quaked saying, “I can’t believe that I almost lost you.  It would have been all my fault.”

Any anger she had is lost as she held him tightly back.  “It’s okay, I’m okay.” she replied.  They sat there holding each other until a signal ding came through on Bow’s communicator.  

 

https://youtu.be/3fy4YPd7viU?si=I6UNY_xXjpHBKzbH&t=121

The automated factory was a symphony of noise.  Four production lines steadily moved with perfect precision, lights flashed, pistons moved, gears ground steadily along.  A single figure moved through them following a flashing light on her computer pad.  She squatted down to work on the robot arm.  Her slender hand pushed back some stray purple and grey strands from her forehead tucking them back into the red goggles resting on her crown.  She was a woman in her late thirties, lines starting to show on the crooks of her mouth.  She had high cheekbones with a wide jaw.  Her hair was tied back by softly lighting hair bands into two massive ponytails.  One length of hair carried a screwdriver to her, the other clutched at the semi functional robot arm burping out hydraulic fluid.  She used the tool to twist the cable tie tighter.  Sure, she could have sent a ‘toolbot’ to fix the efficiency problem on the line but she was much happier working on this than dealing with the difficult decision in her head.  She stepped back on her black steel toed boots and flicked a toggle setting it to start again.  It pressed down on the casing of the grip clicking the plastic into place on the semiautomatic rifle.  

She noticed the piece of hair that handed her the tool.  White?  I don’t remember handling anything white… She stared at it, trying to piece it together, Oh yeah… I guess this was bound to start happening to me… ’  It dug at her guts, white hair meant that she was starting to get to the middle of her life.  A gentle anxiety flushed her cheeks, suddenly craving an Ares stick.  She shivered, changing the course of her thoughts.  ‘No- I want a toothpick instead.’   She took out the box and stuck one into her teeth to chew.  The eerie taste of black tea and a slight tinge of motor oil mixed in her mouth overpowering her need for–...  ‘No, new thought.’

She looked out over the sprawling, multi-storied machine lines of Chronos, her father’s company.  Hazard tape marked the ground at the edge of the fifty foot safety zone for the five, house-sized, geothermal powered engines required.  Enormous skylights that ran along the stadium length building were supposed to make the space light up ambiently, however the light down here was broken up by the steel mesh gratings and railings that wove back and forth over themselves.  What light did make it this far down was broken haphazardly, flickering so often as a piston or belt interrupted its path.  

The Vyxen Metaflex Thread Machine Lines were extremely adaptable, capable of being reconfigured within hours.  They could make anything from simple screwdrivers to multicore fiber optic processors.  Currently, Lines 1 - 10 were half on, continuing to pump out simple electronics and basic tools for the various businesses of Dryl.  11-15 on the next floor down were on full tilt assembling firearms for the Horde.  Lines 16 - 27 were dedicated to the Alliance.  Though they had the majority of lines, they struggled to match the lethal arms that the Horde had ordered– nonlethal weapons were far more resource intensive.  

Despite all the noise the beast made, she found it terribly quiet.  While there were gears grinding, product flowing and automatic arms shifting product from station to station… there were no words .  There was a kind of unsettling comfort that she found in it.  Without people, she didn’t have to see the unsettled looks in their eyes.  It seemed like everyone in Dryl was watching their words around her.  She could tell that they wanted to ask about Project Gemini, Scythia… her old friend.  But no one dared.  

She realized again how close she was to the downward mental spiral and sidestepped, instead focusing on another part of the Vyxen Shortburst rifle assembly line.  She focused at the end of the hallway, her steel toed boots clomped along the metal catwalk grating creating her own noise that blended with the behemoth.  

Reaching the end, she turned, letting a sigh come from her as she moved over to the line dedicated to the Alliance’s arms.  She picked out the clipboard holding the maintenance schedule.  She stared at its shape a few moments, then flipped to the second page there.  She read it for the hundredth time this week.  Stun batons, kevlar armor, molybdenum helmets, steel boots, two pallets of rubber bullets, all of them have had their quantities halved.  Her red eyes squinted at the figures as though that alone would make things change.  She looked up to the assembly line, a distinct grinding noise told her that the third pallet of firearms for the horde was complete.  She looked back to the order for the rebellion, the price she’s charging was practically free for them.  She wasn’t sure what to do.  What she really wanted to do was ask-... her what to do.   She bit a little harder at the wood shim in her teeth, the flavor reviving in her mouth.  

Entrapta closed her eyes, calling out to the computer assistant A.I.  she had made, “Emily?  Send an encrypted message to King Bow of Brightmoon.  Tell him that I’m going to be giving him another prototype gift bundle.”

Emily’s voice hummed back at her, “This is not advisable.  There is an 83 percent chance that Entrapt-net is being monitored by Horde gate-tracers.”  

Defiantly Entrapta called back, “But it would reach him?”

Emily replied, “Yes.”

She said, “Do it.”

 

Bow looked up from the communicator, he told Glimmer, “Entrapta is asking that we meet in person to look over some new prototypes.”

His wife winced, “Last time she came she had the nerve to show off some of the weapons that the Horde has been using against us.  I wish she didn’t.  Those rifles they’re using against us...”  

Bow reminded her, “She did offer us a whole pallet of them, no charge.”

“Bow!  We can’t!  Did you see what the test fire did to the trees?” said Glimmer.  

The two remembered the deadly demonstration.  Entrapta had stood right next to them taking aim at a small grouping of trees.  She simply had to pull the trigger and the weapon made steady even pops.  Almost a hundred feet away the old growth trees exploded one by one sending splinters everywhere.  The arms dealer kept on clicking away at the trigger, and in less than a minute she had five trees on the ground.  

Glimmer’s voice was tight. “ Why did she have to make those?  I hate her.” She gestured sharply, “Tell her we can’t-”

She was interrupted by another ding on the communicator before he could even start.  The King blinked, surprised and announced, “She says that it’s not a refusable gift.” 

The Queen scowled, “Damnit, I knew these Entrapt-net communicators might be used for listening in on our conversations!  Let me see th-”

She was cut short again when a blood curdling shriek echoed in the forest where they were just running from.  Bow turned back to Glimmer, his expression dutiful.  Glimmer’s shoulders dropped, “You’re not serious… You know it’s them.  They’re awful! ”

Bow said softly, “And that’s not a scream to stay away, it’s a scream for help.”

Glimmer scowled, pinching her eyes.  Bow was already running back towards Adora and Catra.  

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ma27diEPqB0

After a few yards, Adora broke off the pursuit.  Horde intel had told her that the princess could literally teleport so an elongated pursuit was going to be pointless.  She took a few steadying breaths and then righted herself.  She looked around at the whispering woods.  The dense trees where they met had thinned, allowing for light to filter in through the exotic branches.  It felt colder here, a thin mist clutched the ground looking a little too much like spider webbing.  

Expectedly she heard the pattering footsteps of her top force captain coming up beside her, just in time for her to finish catching her breath.  

“Report.” Adora said.

Catra gave a sarcastic smirk, she hefted a pack off her back and dug out a tablet saying sarcastically, “Don’t get all soft on me or anything.”

She swiped a few times while Adora folded her arms.  Catra turned the tablet to face her, “I got some good pictures of them, they’re going to be flooding the Horde message boards any second now.  Our scientists are going to be deconstructing the queen’s magic in no time.”

Catra flipped it back to herself, “Gotta admit though, she’s not the war-paint general that the propaganda machine says she is.”

Adora raised a brow at Catra, the faintest smile on her lips, “Are you questioning the brilliance of the state public report recordings?”

Catra gave an easy smile back, but as the moment grew longer Catra’s smile muted just slightly.  She realized in the silence that Adora was still ‘on the clock’ right now.  

Once it was fully established, Adora asked, “Any word on the source of the leak?”

Catra rolled her eyes, “You’re so annoying when you get like this.”

Adora opened her mouth to correct her but Catra clicked back to business, “We have some names here, but still figuring out the exact chain, would you lighten up?”

Adora did shift, “You know we need to get done with our business first before anything else.  None of us are safe when our plans can’t remain hidden from the enemy.”

Catra folded her arms, “Jeez, you’re sounding more and more like Hordak every day.  Come on, Adora!  We got new reconnaissance about the head of state of the alliance, plus while they were away from the battle, we captured their rebel outpost!  Isn't that enough to start up an end of day report?”

Something played on Adora’s memories that she couldn’t quite place.  Something about Catra’s tone, wanting to return home… Trying to get away from the mission to another thing.  She squinted in the direction of the rebel’s escape and asked, “Did… something feel strange about that encounter?”

Catra rolled her eyes and tapped on the screen to bring up one of the horde’s debriefing  self-evaluation form, “Alright, here we go.”

“No, off the record.” Adora said.

Her almond shaped eyes widened at those words coming from the ever-dutiful Adora.  “Something strange?” she echoed trying to jog  her memory, “Well, yeah actually.”  Catra shifted to face the same direction Adora was facing.  She reflected, “The moment he shot at you… seemed to drag into eternity.  I got this overwhelming feeling to come down and join the fight, but something held me back.”  

Adora tapped thoughtfully at her lips, “I noticed it too.  I was going to kill Glimmer, just like we killed all those other princesses but I didn’t.”

Catra remembered all the kingdoms that had fallen to them.  Each crumbled easily after the death of the monarchs.  She ended up giving a little chuckle, “Yeah… we’ll get them next time for sure though.”

Their gazes landed on each other then, having looked at each other since childhood they knew instantly the same thought was in both of their minds… I don’t want to see them dead .  

Before either of them could voice the strangeness of that thought a frigid chill ripped through the clearing.  

They were both drawn to look at a black winking flicker that grew larger and larger.  It came through a single point.  Flesh, bone, organs, and muscle drizzled from it into a bipedal form.  It crept up from there, the smell of rot, and burnt protein filled the small clearing.  It mostly formed a stomach.  For some reason, instead of completing the belly, a small part of her intestine flopped out of the gaping wound there.  Higher and higher went the form until it shaped a seared neck, above there was only black char and wept flesh.  Its voice was nothing more than a sigh escaping air over a tight throat where vocal chords might have once been.  It lifted a hand as if to observe it, but how was that possible without eyes?

She wasn’t sure how she manifested among them.  She was simply there.  It was cold, her wounds were eased in those moments, pain gave way to numbness crackling all over.  The tears at her flesh were there, searing in pain but she dulled them, forming ice at the seams.  She looked down at the slice in her open belly, struck there by horde steel.  It had ruined her body just moments ago… no… not moments ago.  It had been a long time since she died.  Something brought her here.  

One of the horde soldiers was screaming, the other pushed them aside drawing a sword against her.  They were pointing at her-... no, not just at her, they were screaming about her face.  

Oh yes… her head.  Her head had been the last thing to go.  Wrapped in cloth and set ablaze.  She must be a ghoulish sight.  Her fingers came to touch her there, it was unimaginably painful to have been burned to death.  Of course they ended her with fire, how poetic.  When she touched the char, a good question dawned on her, how was she seeing them when the tender organs of her eyes were nothing but ash now?

“What’s the matter?” she tried to say coyly but her tongue and lips wouldn’t comply, only a hissing noise came from her, smoke plumed from her lungs.  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vrk0mf9uHYs

They knew her from the Kingdom of Snows.  It was impossibly the princess of that kingdom, Frosta.  They had been there at the unceremonial execution in the hallway leading to the negotiation chamber.  Adora had lanced her belly herself.  Catra said at the time, “Burn her head.”  That was years ago.  

Catra shouted to Adora, “What is she doing here??  How is she here??”

Adora knew that now was not the time for questions, nothing about that noise it was making was friendly.  She closed the distance between them, sword outstretched and ready to parry.  Frosta pulled moisture from the air and gestured at the knight-like Adora.  A swarm of ice shards flew at her like birdshot.  

She took the peppering of ice shards, wincing at the gashes that suddenly crossed her face.  Ignoring the pain, she retorted by sweeping her blade across Frosta’s shoulder.  The specter spun to the ground in a heap.  Adora kept closing the distance like an inevitable titan, her frost burned wounds pumped crimson blood down her jaw and neck.  Frosta pushed off the ground away from Adora, but just as she was getting her senses about her she was tackled from a hands-first leap from Catra.  The two of them spiraled to the ground in a heap.  

Adora’s steady strides faltered when she heard a painful shriek come from the tangle of Catra and the princess.  Adora was there in an instant, losing sight of any kind of defense.  She used her free hand to fiercely rip Frosta from the grapple with Catra.  In that same instant, she understood what her Force Captain was screaming about.  Just touching Frosta sent a numbing, biting pain straight to her heart, an unnatural cold that stole the breath from her lungs.  She gave a shuddering noise with her throat trying to ignore the supernatural pain across her soul.  She threw the assailant to the side with all her might one moment and thrusted the same hand for Catra to take the next.  

That’s when Bow and Glimmer re-appeared suddenly in front of them.

For the briefest second Adora was glad to see them.  But realized how much more trouble they were in now that they were facing off against both the alliance and this strange spirit of vengeance.  They all shared a strange, silent moment before the creature made a deep throated noise leaning towards them in the air.  Adora jagged to the left in full tilt, hoping that the unsettling noise would be affecting the king and queen’s reaction time.  Catra got to her four feet and was in front in an instant.  Bow and Glimmer followed right after.  Thirty yards of running after them was enough for Glimmer to remember that she could teleport and blinked right in front of Catra.  

Adora only pressed her momentum faster, while Catra’s agility easily let her turn sharply to the side.  The wind rushed through Adora’s blonde hair, her voice rising as she closed the distance with Glimmer.  Her dark greatsword at her hip cut up from the ground in a rising slash.  Glimmer held her palms out on either side of the blade.  At the last second, her staff suddenly blinked into existence.  A great sundering chime that echoed across the woods.  Glimmer was violently launched from where she stood.  Catra had doubled back and was engaging Bow the next moment.  Adora and Catra had so many ‘bloodless battles’ in training that they were like a single entity fighting against the king and queen of Brightmoon.  

Catra lunged at Bow, he fell back, tossing her over him.  She landed on her feet, then sprang back almost as though she planned it.  Her razor sharp claws gashed across his shoulder, spattering his blood on the ground.  Bow cried out painfully.  She threw back her head cackling in victory, “I can’t believe that the alliance is so gullible!  If I knew all it would take is some screaming to bring you back I would’ve done that right away!”

Bow cradled his wound knowing that he was little help to his wife now that he couldn’t wield his signature weapon properly.  He got to his feet preparing for hand-to-hand combat.  He glared at Catra proclaiming, “We’re not like you, if someone, anyone is in trouble we’re going to help them!”

Catra cooed, “Aww, that’s why you’re going to lose , just like Sileneas and Plumeria.  Once you’re gone your subjects are going to cower in fear.  All because you couldn’t resist hoping for a peaceful end to this.” 

The repartee let Adora know that Catra had the techmaster king well in hand.  Adora also knew her role was to tire out Glimmer and maybe score a single hit to end her.  She feigned a swing to throw the queen off-guard, goading out yet another teleport from her.  Adora reversed her footing and swept her sword behind her thinking that she might reappear there.  Adora hit nothing.  A split second later she felt pressure splash across her armored shoulder, sparkles showered from the blow.  A sneer came across her expression disliking this game of cat and mouse.  A frustrated shout escaped her throat whipping back around to throw a small blade from her waist in Glimmer’s new direction in the trees.  Glimmer’s eyes widened, twisting and teleporting to the ground prone.  Adora was already running to engage her.  Before Glimmer could realize what was happening she was underneath Adora’s foot, the armored woman’s sword was raised high to end her life.  Glimmer shrieked, teleporting yet again in the last possible second.  

Adora’s foot fell through where Glimmer was, the bastard sword sinking inches into the loam of the whispering woods.  Adora bared her teeth barking, “Stay still and die!” It was both a warning and a promise for how this would end.  

Nearby, Catra rolled her shoulders showing off the palms of her hands at her hips.  She flexed just the tips of her fingers down, causing her claws to push forward from the sides of her second knuckle joints looking like little black razor sharp switchblades.  She was ready to finish him off when she noticed the quickly advancing ash-faced Frosta from the clearing.  The ice princess was drifting through the trees towards the noisy scuffle.  

Quickly thinking, Catra lunged at Bow’s thigh leaving a gash there.  Faster than she expected the king’s razor sharp bow sliced along Catra’s shoulder in exchange.  Catra danced back, disengaging from Bow.  She shouted at Adora, “Enemy incoming! East!”  With no more than that, the two of them withdrew as one.  The Horde leaders jumped a horizontal tree, and were sprinting away.  The king and queen were left behind for Frosta to finish off.  

Glimmer was next to Bow in an instant just as the unearthly creature came within striking distance.  Effort crunched her face as she mustered one more teleport to pull them both as far as she could away from her.  Their forms winked away just in the nick of time.  

 

Frosta felt herself breathing heavily, coming to a stop just as Glimmer and Bow disappeared.  Strangely her huffs were doing nothing to alleviate her fatigue.  It was almost as if–… She tried it.  She stopped breathing.  Her unconscious demanded another breath but she quelled it as an experiment.  When her limbs tingled with newfound energy she instinctively raised her hands to her ruined face.  She really had died.  She looked at her hands.  Her friends had fled in fear over what she was now.  She needed to do something to keep them from running away.  Somehow she knew it was within her power to gather a death shroud around herself.  It felt strange as the rough linen curled from her back, over her head, around her shoulders.  

She did not need eyes to see.  Their movements brushed against her awareness, like ripples on a frozen lake.  They were running.  If she was to get help in this new form, she needed them all.  Her whispering throat exhaled smoke under what she thought would be strain.  She evoked a thirty foot tall wall of ice around Catra and Adora over fifty yards away by now.  When the strain didn’t come to her she staggered.  Again looking at her hands she pondered just what she was now.  

Bow and Glimmer had stopped moving.  She drifted in their direction to try again.  

 

Desperate breaths came to Glimmer helping her injured husband hobble quickly shoulder-to-shoulder.  She was out of teleports for the time being, his heavy body was relying on her to stand.  He was also taking shallow breaths mostly from Catra’s injury to his thigh.  

“We gotta stop.” He said as loudly as he dared.  

It was a welcome relief to Glimmer, crashing next to a tree that overlooked a small ravine.  Her hands ached from fending off Adora’s strikes.  It had all gone wrong.  Glimmer tried to cough quietly as Bow dug into a pouch on his hip to quickly gauze the worst of the bleeding.  

A gentle crackling came from the ground before them.  They braced, the king reached for his sharp bow.  Before their eyes, frost spread across the dirt, jagged and deliberate.  Ice crystals bloomed in fractured, unnatural patterns, shaping themselves into something recognizable.  Words.  

"It’s me, Frosta."

The two looked to each other, a chill passing through them as they realized what had been chasing them.  The two peaked around the side of the tree to get a good look at her. 

The young woman hovered just above the ground, her movements unnervingly still.  She had wrapped herself fully in a long black shroud, the fabric darkening where it clung to her middle, as if drinking in the gaping wound beneath it.

Glimmer swallowed hard.  Frosta had only been eighteen.  She had been one of the youngest among the alliance.  Seeing her now—her ruined body, the ashen void where her face should have been—twisted something in her stomach.

“By the ancients..” Bow said watching Frosta smooth the new cloth over her stomach.  Knowing what she was now gave her a kind of innocence that pierced her ghoulish appearance.  Glimmer started to drop her guard letting herself cough to soothe her burning lungs.  The specter pointed ominously in the direction of the captives.  When they looked they saw the tall cylindrical tower of ice that Frosta had used and they looked at each other.  Once again they wordlessly agreed to follow the direction of sure danger.  

 

Adora looked up at the distant peak of the wall they found themselves surrounded by.  The diameter couldn't have been more than twenty feet.  Enough to move around but not much else.  Catra rubbed at her face, she had just ran into the barrier forming and was seeing stars now.  Adora stared bewildered at the impedance, “Even if that was Frosta, she couldn't have made a barrier this tall form that far away.  Our intel can be spotty from time to time, but it’s never this wrong.”

She squinted, it was just ice.  She raised her sword above her head and began jabbing at the wall, it would only slow them down.  After minutes of hacking she felt Catra touch her shoulder.  She turned to see the woods produce the spirit, Bow and Glimmer.  The grim understanding came to her that she was going to be a prisoner.  She watched Catra, silently conversing.  Remember the training.  Give nothing but your name, rank and number, escape at the first chance, don’t wait for the other.

Catra’s sarcastic glance back told her that she understood.  Yeah, I was at force captain training too dummy.  

The king and Queen approached.  Glimmer was the first to break the tension, “You are now prisoners of the Hierophant Alliance.  You will be well taken care of.  Your lies about trying to join the alliance will be considered when judgment is cast upon you.”

Adora set her shoulders, clasped her hands behind her back.  She grimly stated, “Adora Starborn, Vice General.  Serial number Zero, One, One, Nine.”

Bow looked to Glimmer uncomfortably, then back to them.  His gut felt that this is all wrong but he couldn’t think of any proof to back it up.  If the intelligence they received was fake, then there was nothing they could trust about their history.  He urged Adora, “If there was any truth about you joining the Hierophant alliance at all, it would go a long way if you told us that now.”

Catra’s mismatched eyes drifted to Adora, looking for guidance.  Adora was already reflexively repeating the proper answer to any engagement by the enemy.  

Bow didn’t miss the glance.  He asked Catra, “Do you have anything to add?”

She hesitated watching Adora’s stoic glare before mirroring it.  She sternly said, “Catra, Force Captain.  Serial number One, Zero, Two, Eight.”

Glimmer groaned, “I hate this Horde brainwashing bullshit.”  She looked at Frosta, “You can do that again, right?”

Frosta gestured to the ground, words rising from the shape of jagged ice, “Yes.”

Glimmer looked back to them, “So don’t try to escape.”

Chapter 2: A journey to here

Summary:

A bit of a transition chapter. We get a look at who these characters are without them trying to outright kill each other.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aoJ-NYeuxGk

The path through the Whispering Woods was lush, its untamed greenery shifting in ways that suggested it followed its own laws of survival.  The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and strange blossoms, their petals curling in slow, deliberate motions, as if adjusting to unseen rhythms.

Bow and Glimmer walked in front, leading the two Horde captives.

Bow was a middle-aged man, his short curly hair graying at the temples.  A well-kept goatee was at the end of his chin, now speckled with hints of white.  His rich brown skin caught the dappled sunlight filtering through the foliage above.  He wore practical traveling attire, a loose-fitting shirt that stopped just short of his ribs, exposing his midsection.  A finely crafted belt adorned his waist, its gleaming heart-shaped buckle drawing the eye.  The loose end of the belt was neatly tucked into the wrap around his waist.  Completing his ensemble, he wore plain blue slacks tucked into sturdy leather boots with a faint yellow tint.

Glimmer walked alongside him, her height almost matching his own.  Her hair was a vibrant shade of pink; it cascaded down one side of her head in an artful arrangement, magically held in place.  The deeper hues of purple intertwined with the pink strands, lending her locks a mesmerizing depth.  Adorning one ear was a delicate white pearl earring, glinting softly.  Her face, with its gentle curves, framed intense pink eyes that seemed to sparkle with their own inner light.  She wore a comfortable purple linen shirt decorated with a golden sash from her armored shoulders to her hip.  It was knotted at her traveling belt before it flowed from hip to knee.  Bright blue trousers hugged her legs, interrupted only by the presence of thigh-high white boots that were muddied from the trail at her feet, and at the knees from her scuffles earlier.  

Behind them walked Adora, a figure of commanding presence and steely determination evident in her unwavering expression.  Her hair was clean and unstyled, it fell in a golden mess that reached barely past her shoulders.  Beneath a furrowed brow, her eyes gleamed with an icy blue intensity, reflecting her inner resolve.  With a well-defined jawline and a strong neck leading to broad shoulders, she exuded an aura of strength and confidence.  Adorned in the regalia of a high-ranking Horde officer, she wore a suit of  thick plate armor across her chest and hips, matched with sturdy traveling boots.

By her side walked Catra, her presence a blend of fierce determination and wary vigilance.  Draped over her shoulders was a sleek black jacket, worn with an air of casual confidence.  Beneath the jacket, she sported a dark red shoulderless top that accentuated her lithe frame.  Her untamed mane of brown hair framed a face marked by wide, alert eyes, their gaze constantly scanning their surroundings for potential threats.  Topping her head were black and pink ears, their positions ever-shifting as they remained on high alert.  At the base of her spine swished a feline tail, a silent testament to her agility and grace.  With powerful legs capable of swift sprints, she effortlessly maintained pace beside Adora.  

The group took a break on the side of the path.  Bow tried to focus on the route back to Brightmoon, but he couldn’t help but stare at Frosta who was charged with watching the two prisoners.  He asked, “How are you here?”

Frosta kept her hood turned to Adora and Catra, now in thick shackles.  Frosta turned to the ground, gesturing at a flat rock.  Words crackled into being there reading ‘Not sure’

She shifted her featureless face Bow’s direction, as soon as he nodded she shifted to the next sentence, then the next, all the while the frost crackled, 

Was moving to the conference hall.

Was with my honor guard.

Shot from behind.

That one sliced my belly.

The young lady gestured to Adora

Painful.

Captured.

Forced to knees.

Bag on head.

Fire.

… death?

Bow shuddered

She couldn’t take it, “ They started that!” Catra blurted out.

Adora glared at her force captain, “Catra..” she warned.  

Frosta glided down reaching to threaten pulling back her hood.  The gesture made Catra curl back partially in revulsion, partially in defense.  The hole in her face heaved back and forth sending out plumes of ash and smoke.  A laugh?

Adora’s voice clipped, “That’s enough!”

The spirit’s head pitched to the side now facing Adora.  She loomed threateningly.

When Adora stepped fearlessly towards the creature Bow called out, “Frosta, please!”

Frosta regarded Bow, then backed away from Adora.

Adora looked back to Catra.  Her stern, even expression silently saying, ‘You let them get to you.  Don’t let them.’

Catra sourly scowled, then looked away.  

Noticing the fragmentation between leader and subordinate, Bow said to Catra, “If you have a different take, I want to hear it.”

Catra looked over at Adora wide-eyed, genuine fear came to her features.  She scooted away from her and curled her finger at Bow.  He came closer for her private word.  Her voice trembled as she said, “Adora over there?  She’s absolutely crazy!!   Y’see, she has this horse… She says it can talk!   Only to her of course.”

Bow sighed and shifted back.  

Catra raised her voice, “It’s true!  She says he’s always going on about the moral problems of keeping intelligent creatures as beasts of burden!  She says he wants a chair at Horde meetings!”

The king had enough nonsense, he turned to regard the rock again.  He gestured to Frosta, “You were saying?”

It prompted Frosta to go back to writing on the rock with her powers.  The lettering rolled over itself,

I was… somewhere after that.

But I’m unsure what it was myself.

Glimmer said, “Maybe… we shouldn’t be asking about this.”

The words continued,

The best way to say it is:

It was different.

Bow looked at the last words, waiting for more.  When they didn’t come he said, “Maybe we can ask Entrapta about it when she arrives.  She’s worked with some very unusual projects.”

Glimmer frowned, “That’s a nice way of putting ‘nightmare fuel’.”

Bow replied, “I think a lot of her earlier work was amazing.  We use Entrapt-net so much these days, it’s hard to think of what it would be like without it.”

Glimmer almost shouted, “Yeah?!  And what about ‘project Brain-in-a-jar?’”

Bow conceded, “Well, the siege probably made her desperate.”

Glimmer just frowned at him.

Catra choked out a laugh, blurting out, “Wait-... wait… you guys are just now learning about Project Heaven?  Dryl’s worst kept classified project?”

Adora lifted her gaze to the sky helplessly.

Bow scowled back at the prisoners.

Catra laughed, “No wonder you guys are losing.  I bet they think it’s a huge secret they’ve been keeping about getting supplies from Dryl.”

Bow stiffened, his shift to looking to Glimmer was all the ‘tell’ Catra needed.

Catra brought her hands to her face with wicked glee, “Oh no–… oh no!! they did think it was a secret!!   I’m so sorry!   Getting literally truckloads of shipments across vast amounts of countryside was going to stay a secret forever if everyone just didn’t look at the roads.  We cheated Adora!”

Adora heaved a deflating sigh.

Bow shook his head moving back along the path getting back to the point, “Entrapta is still on her way to Brightmoon.  She sent us a message knowing that the Horde was listening in on Entrapt-net.  She must have something very important to tell us.”

Glimmer asked, “How does she think she’s getting here?  The horde still has a siege on Dryl and any drones going out would be blown out of the sky with their new Mark III rockets.”

Bow smirked, “Probably something crazy.”

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JuFJ9reBX5c

Entrapta marched through the cavernous hangar which once held drones in maintenance at the Zephertech headquarters.  She called out to the Emily Assistant A.I. on her tablet, “I’d like a sample kit put together to show off our latest prototypes to Brightmoon.  We’re going to show them that it’s time to stop messin’ around with non-lethal munitions.  Load up Darla, I’m about six minutes away.”

The A.I. answered, “Understood.  Eighteen new Horde messages are waiting for review in regards to the message breach to Brightmoon.”

“That’s nice.” Entrapta dismissively said.  She kicked into a light jog causing her voice to jostle, “I’d like to launch a drone as a distraction for taking Darla out for her first spin.”

Another part of the hangar started flicking on flood lights.  Emily pleasantly responded, “Understood, launching drone 7752.  Disregarding warning and lockout procedures due to Horde countermeasures.”

Entrapta moved quickly past failed and partially completed projects while her twin pigtails bounced just off the ground behind her.  She passed several cars that were more tank than car, a suit of power armor that had a whole leg and half the arms blown away, a combine, and a backpack style jet-pack.  She cooed as she came to the end of the line, “There’s my baby.”  The device was a black motorcycle with polygonal angles and purple and green accent lighting.  The bike flashed its headlights and spun up its electric engine when it heard Entrapta’s voice.  It was as though it was a puppy, happy to finally be used.  Entrapta’s halo pig-tail headbands wound her purple hair up into braids and then they twisted around each other.  She mounted the cycle while mechanical arms attached to the ceiling zipped over with a bulletproof suitcase holding her samples.  It all came together at the last moment when the drone’s jets whined up to launching speed and Entrapta adjusted a pair of red goggles over her eyes.  She told Darla their destination, “Brightmoon, fast.”

Sirens howled, fighting briefly with the cacophony of jet engines overdriving for fast launch.  The bay doors fired open and Entrapta cackled as she realized the danger she was suddenly thrusting herself into.  Both she and the drone launched from the opening in the side of the mountain.  While the drone lifted, the bike plummeted like a stone.  

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U53OET-mWfg

 

Bow tapped a few times on the Horde pad.  He teased, “I suppose the password to get into this thing isn’t going to be ‘password’, is it?”  As expected all that he got from Adora was a death glare.  

Catra called out, “Oh, no, they made us change them last week, it’s 1234 now, try that.”

Glimmer sneered at the two high ranking Horde officials.  She proclaimed, “I’m going to go find some water and try to recharge.”  Bow nodded, going back to the device.  

Catra flicked her ears and scrunched her face, “Awww, you’re going to go collect sparkles ?  Maybe sprinkle them on cupcakes for your tea party with the king later?  Can me and Adora watch?”

Bow exhaled through his nose, muttering something.  

After a few minutes had passed he decided that the way that his wife said that, it was meant for him to follow after.  He asked Frosta, “If they try to escape, ice them.”

Frosta brought her hands together, rubbing them together in a pleased way.  Bow left them alone.  

Catra leaned towards Adora, “Was… that a giggle?”

Adora’s blue eyed gaze locked on Catra, the grim thinning of her lips the visual clue that this was the line.  

Catra knew the look well, though she didn’t understand why now?  That look was for when she was in front of soldiers that needed to respect them.  These were worthless royals.  Adora always liked the preamble to ridding the world of royals.  

Catra’s voice dipped quieter, “C’mon Adora… what’s up with you?”

Sowly, deliberately Adora put a gauntleted hand on the back of Catra’s neck.  A chill ran down Catra’s spine, on the surface it was friendly, but she felt the tension in her hand, she had seen Adora painfully throw insubordinate people into the dirt as easily as knocking over a chess piece.

Adora’s grim expression did melt in that moment seeing realization come across Catra’s features.  A forgiving, quiet smile came to her.  Adora listed out on her fingers the three things Catra was allowed to say according to the rule book, “Name.  Rank.  Serial number.”

Catra studied Adora’s face, the gentle scars that came from a thousand battles… a thousand and one with the new gashes healing across her jaw and neck.  The reminder settled on her mind, Catra nodded.  She clenched when Adora gave her a fond pat on the back.  

 

Nearby the denseness of the forest opened up.  A tributary stream from a nearby river lapped on the shoreline calmly.  Glowing spheres drifted where the gentle breeze would take them and at the edge of the short embankment sat Glimmer trying to focus on the purity of light just like her mother once taught her.  She had such a struggle infusing herself with power ever since she died.  She died…

Glimmer’s face scowled, quickly getting frustrated with the ritual and losing the focus on her internal spark.  She tried to brush it off and refocus back to the purity of light, how it would move with the water… like the tears that once ran down her face while she screamed.  

She realized that it wasn’t going to work right now, she wasn’t in the familiar space of Brightmoon, nor could she feel the sun on her skin.  She simply opened her eyes and looked up at the direction of the sun overhead.  She softly said, “I guess I’m walking, huh?”

She heard footsteps approaching.  It had to be Bow, she recognized the pace and the familiar scents of his perfumes.  He settled down next to her saying, “Frosta’s watching the prisoners, they’re not going anywhere.”

She skipped the ambling part of their conversation into what was bothering her, “It’s Mom.”

Bow sighed, “Yeah.  It’s always her when we’re somewhere else.”

“No- I mean, yes, I can’t manifest my powers because that’s distracting me, but it’s more than that.”

Bow set a reassuring hand on her thigh, “Go on.” he prompted

Glimmer frowned, “When I was meditating, I couldn’t get her out of my head.  It’s so intense, I remember falling to her side in her last moments, the way she was so scared and grasping at my arm.  When she finally…”

Bow replied, “Hey, she was with her daughter in her last moments, I don’t know if there’s a better way to go 

Glimmer shook her head, “I mean it’s bigger than all that.  It’s so intense but it’s like it’s trying to shout over-... over something else and the only thing I know about that ‘something else’ is that it wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Bow sat with her.  She knew that as he grew older, he allowed more and more space to think thoroughly about things but it was hard to be patient when he got like this.  

He finally said, “When something as traumatic as that happens, we try to find a way for it to make sense.  We try to take on that responsibility ourselves so that we have some kind of control over what happens when really it wasn’t ever inside of our control.”

Glimmer hopped in, “It’s not me taking on too much responsibility, Bow.  I know some soldier shot her in the chaos of the moment.  This is something else, something bigger.  Like…”  She sighed, “I don’t know how to make you understand.”

He smiled, “I’m listening, and I’m always in your corner, so if you say that something is feeling funny about this memory, I believe you.”  Bow looked wistfully out at the rolling water over the rocky shore.  He said, “Actually… I think I had a moment like that too.  When I shot my arrow at Adora, for the briefest moment, I thought that we were on the same side and I had just done something terrible.”

Glimmer’s eyes widened, “ Me too!   That’s why I teleported both of us to safety.”

He puffed his cheeks, blowing out a sigh, “Well, at least I’m not crazy.”

The two shared a smile.  Bow pointed out, “We should get back.  Do you want to give meditating one more try?”

Glimmer nodded, “One more shot.  Thanks, Bow.”

Chapter 3: Entering Brightmoon

Summary:

I have a couple days off of work, going to do a double or triple dip this week ^_^

We get to see a glimpse the toll of Entrapta fully aligning with the Alliance (Rebellion).
Adora and Catra get processed at the front gates.
Entrapta pleads her case with Bow and Glimmer to switch from non lethal to lethal munitions.
We get a glimpse of the difference between living in Dryl vs living in the alliance and a little of the might of the Horde's military prowess.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=by3yk_no_E4

Entrapta dismounted Darla.  The guard was talking at her thinking that she was some kind of threat.  She lifted her red goggles, then rubbed at her face getting some of the dampness out of her eyes and brushing some of the dust from her cheeks.  Her pigtails unwound themselves from travel mode.  He was still talking but it didn’t matter, she was thinking about how she was going to approach her presentation, what kind of technology Brightmoon castle had.  The guard’s armor was literally the kevlar polymer that came from Dryl, so it was very likely that their technology would be about one or two generations back from what Dryl was capable of.  

There was silence so Entrapta raised her brows, “All done?  Good.  I’m here to talk with either your arms master, but much more preferably King Bow or Glimmer, someone in charge of armament decisions.”

Her expression flattened as the nobody guard said a few objectioning sentences.  She sighed, interrupting curtly, “Alright.”  She took out her portable Entrapt-net access mini tablet and brought up one of the… wow, 25 Horde messages.  She skipped over the proclamations and posturing that the message started out with until she found the meat.  She read out loud interrupting his continued protests:

‘For this grievous deviation from the Nyland contract in contacting the Alliance and King Bow, we are issuing eighteen new tariffs on Dryl exports including but not limited to: Molybdenum / vindanyte polymer armor: 30% increase in tariff, Tritanium alloy weapons: 25% increase in tariff, Quantum resonance scanners: 40% increase in tariff, Energy shield generators: 35% increase in tariff, Nanotech healing serums: 45% increase in tariff.”

When she looked up she saw that the guard was confused so she leaned in and spoke down to him haltingly, “It means that the Horde is mad at Dryl.  I have gone to great risk and sacrifice to be here.  Your ruler will be mad at you if you turn me away.”

It suddenly dawned on him, “You’re Entrapta!”

Her hair came up to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration.  It was going to be a long day.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZDZYVWBA2-o

As Bow and Glimmer crossed the sturdy stone bridge leading to the grand gates of the Brightmoon palace, the air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers from the gardens nearby.  Sunlight streamed through the towering trees that lined the path, casting leaf patterned shadows on the cobblestones beneath their feet.  The distant sound of birdsong carried on the gentle breeze, adding to the serene ambiance of the castle grounds.  Bow and Glimmer were met with warm smiles and cheerful greetings.  

Catra stretched her arms over her head, making a big show of inhaling, “Mmm. Smells like treason.”

Adora shot her a death glare.

Catra smirked back, unfazed, “Seriously.  You just walked two of the Horde’s highest-ranking officers straight into your shiny little utopia.  No blindfolds?  No secrecy?  I always knew you guys were soft, but wow.  Why don’t you just hand us a map while you’re at it?”

Adora’s jaw clenched.

At the end of the bridge stood General Juliet, her uniform adorned with the emblem of Brightmoon, her posture exuding authority and warmth.  Behind her, a small procession of guards stood at attention, their polished armor gleaming in the sunlight.

“Welcome home, Queen Glimmer and King Bow,” General Juliet greeted them with a respectful nod, her voice carrying a note of genuine warmth, “Brightmoon celebrates your safe return.”

As Bow and Glimmer approached, they exchanged smiles with the familiar faces of the guards stationed at the entrance.  The imposing high gates of the palace stood open, revealing the grandeur of the courtyard beyond.  Colorful pastel banners fluttered in the breeze, each bearing the sigil of Brightmoon, while the sound of laughter and chatter drifted from within the bustling castle walls.

However, General Juliet's expression soured as she noticed their companions.  “It looks like there are prisoners to be processed here,” she remarked, gesturing to a guard from her procession who broke away to handle the matter.  Her gaze then fell upon Frosta, accompanied by a momentary shock at the sight of the shrouded ghost.

“What is that?” she inquired, clearly taken aback.

Bow stepped forward, offering an explanation.  “Allow me to introduce Princess Frosta of the Kingdom of Snows.  She is a welcome guest here in Brightmoon and played a crucial role in capturing these two Horde soldiers.”

“I see,” General Juliet responded, regaining her composure, “We will ensure she is accommodated in the guest quarters.” She then turned to another guard.  “Attend to it.”

Bow interjected, “Make sure her quarters reflect their noble status within the Kingdom of Snows.”

General Juliet nodded in acknowledgment.  “Sir.” She directed her attention to Adora and Catra, “What about these two?”

Bow admitted, “It turns out that the high ranking officials in the Horde were not as interested in joining the alliance as we had originally hoped.  While they are prisoners, I would like to give them comfortable detention cells in the palace until we can negotiate a proper exchange.”

Adora shot a menacing glare at the guard who approached her, but Glimmer intervened.  “Don’t worry,” she assured them, “we will treat you with the respect you deserve.”

Catra chided, “I’d better have a south facing cell.  If I don’t get my afternoon nappies, I’ll never have enough strength to enjoy the spa later.”

Adora’s blue eyes widened at her dangerously.

With that they all began moving in the direction of the palace.  Juliet said, “You have several matters to attend to now that you have returned from the mission.  There are two security briefings that require your attention.  You are scheduled to make a public appearance at the graduation of this week’s cadet soldiers and then there’s the matter of the Princess of Dryl showing up at our front gates unannounced.”

Bow let out a chuckle, “Oh, she’s announced herself, she just contacted me directly on my tablet instead of going through the normal diplomatic channels.”

Juliet kept her sour disposition, “Yes, she insisted on waiting for you in one of the east halls.”

Glimmer rolled her eyes, “Like we don’t have enough going on right now.  Alright, I guess we should talk with the princess first before we go on to the other parts of the day.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=by3yk_no_E4

Entrapta was waiting in a mezzanine.  The room was cavernous with high windows, pastel sculptures and glowing chandeliers.  She thought about how much wasted effort went into the pointless curvature of the archways.  Sure, they held the structure tall but nothing here was functional.  Her mind reached back to an old memory.  She had shown her dad an improvement to a rifle at a young age.  The idea was half baked at best.  Her dad had told her, ’Every time you add a moving part, that’s another piece that could break.  Simplicity is always better.’   She chuckled to herself wondering what he would have thought of the dual rotating orbital chandelier in the center of the needlessly huge room.  

She happened to let her eyes drift back down to eye level, she noticed the King and Queen entering through a door followed by two dark clothed people.  She noticed the markings on their shoulders.  They weren’t just prisoners, they were Force Captains at least.  Entrapta felt her guts crunch, her skin prickle and her mind grind to a halt.  Ideas started to flood into her, but they had to slow down when Glimmer and Bow drew near.  

Bow nodded his head at Entrapta, “To what do we owe the honor of this visit, Princess of Dryl?”

Entrapta didn’t respond, she was watching guards escort the captains away.  When they crossed behind Glimmer’s stare she remembered why she was here.  She looked at Bow remembering that he had addressed her, “Oh!  Hi, Sir… erm… Lordship?  Kingman?  How do you want to be addressed?”

The king chuckled, “Bow is just fine.”

She cleared her throat, “Alright um, So!”  She clapped her hands together getting her mind back on track, “I’m here because I’ve decided to cut the Alliance a break.  I kept going over and over in my head what might have caused your side of the conflict to reduce your orders.”

Bow looked over to his wife a cringe came to his face, “Well-”

He didn’t get to finish, “And I concluded that it’s the same thing that’s been holding you guys back this whole time.  Sandbags, rubber bullets, netting, it’s all non-lethal.  That means that your side continues to take heavy casualties during every conflict while the Horde can basically march over your troops with impunity.”

Bow tried again, “That’s not-”

She draped an arm around Bow’s shoulders guiding him away from Glimmer.  She pushed figurative clouds to the side with her hand, “Now let me dispel some of the misconceptions that come with switching over to upgrading your stopping power.  Firstly, our studies show that most soldiers, no matter how battle hardened, are not out to destroy the other side, they’re never going to be aiming for the heart, head or other vitals, they’re going to want to maim instead of kill.”

“Entrapta…” Bow struggled to wrangle the chance to talk.

“I know what you’re going to say so shush.” she put her finger over his lips causing his expression to grow even more cross.  Nevertheless she continued, “Adding that in with the notion that we haven’t even tried to develop any variant armaments means that your side is completely stagnant in any kind of ground-gain, even in a best case scenario.”

Bow switched to something more physical, he stepped out of her arm drape and grabbed her shoulders, “Entrapta!” he almost shouted.  

Her expression sobered, mouth turned down in surprise.

Bow gave her a gentle shake, “We found out about Project Heaven.”

She stuttered, “That!-...  You!-...”  She shook her head, “Heaven is mothballed… Bow, that project isn’t in use right now and even-...  It was classified.”

Bow looked into her eyes, “Yes, but you did have a hand in making it.”

Entrapta looked up and around exasperated, “ That’s the reason?  Something that happened and was shuttered years ago??”  

Entrapta’s hands came to her forehead starting to walk away when Glimmer’s voice sharply scolded, “You can’t use people like that!”

Like a bolt, Entrapta was suddenly quaking with anger, “Ohhhh ancients… Ohhh fuck! you think I don’t know that?”  She lunged into Glimmer’s face, pointing, “You think I don’t already know exactly how fucked this is?  You think I don’t know what we’ve lost!?? ” 

Glimmer shouted back inches from her face, “Don’t talk to me like that!  How would you like to lose the other half of your precious contract with us!?”

Entrapta stepped back, patting the air and cooling by degrees.  She closed her eyes trying a calming exercise mentally that she learned long ago.  Glimmer was relentless though, “You’re lucky that we don’t tell the Horde what you have been up to.”

Entrapta finished what she was doing mentally and decided to restart the conversation, “I came here under the notion of good faith and wanting to help out the alliance.  I have risked, and already, lost so much just to stand here in front of you.  The least that you could do was listen to me.”

Glimmer was about to say something else but Bow tempered her by placing a hand on her shoulder.

Entrapta glanced from Bow to his wife.  His gesture made her realize that Glimmer was the one that she needed to convince.  Entrapta’s energy went low and quiet, “I don’t-… I don’t have any friends but… if I did, I’d want them to be like you and your side of the conflict here.  You don’t want to use lethal force, even when all you’re doing is defending yourselves.”  She locked in a wince for half a second, seeming to stall there briefly.  Finally she said sadly, “There comes a time where-… where time runs out and your principles have to take a back seat to reality.  Otherwise there won’t be any people left to uphold those principles.”

Glimmer frowned, taking it in.  She looked up at Bow who squeezed her shoulder.

Entrapta brought out her mini tablet and tapped on her docket for Horde exports.  She turned it around to show them, “Hordak put in an order for twice as many weapons this coming month… He is clearly going to be doing a final offensive maneuver on Brightmoon or thinks he has some kind of superior hand to play…”

She urged desperately, “Time is up , you two.  You don’t have any more territory to lose, you don’t–... you can’t lose any more troops!  You–…”

Entrapta couldn’t read what kind of expression was on Bow’s face, Glimmer was scared though.  She brought a pleading edge to her voice again, “Just say it and I’ll have a whole line switched over to weaponry for the Alliance… it might be a little out of date but your side has always had the grit that the other just doesn’t.  That’s your edge that you won’t have much longer”

Bow finally said, “You’ve given us a lot to talk over here, Entrapta.  Why don’t you go to the commissary and get something to eat, tomorrow we’ll have answers for you.”

Entrapta took a breath to object but Bow pointed a finger up at her, cutting her off.  He said sternly, “Tomorrow.”

Entrapta looked from the finger, to Glimmer, then to Bow’s face.  She relaxed, realizing that she had to concede his final word on the matter.  She let the subject switch by asking, “Commissary, you say?”

 

The symbol of Brightmoon.  Their forks had the symbol of Brightmoon on them.  Entrapta looked at the utensil with a scrunch of disgust on the side of her face.  She sat at a table meant for two, a tray with a plate on it where a delicate cake dessert with strawberries waited to be eaten.  She wasn’t doing that just yet.  She was still getting over the fork’s design.  It hadn’t had its tines snipped for its metal resource, the thing shone a gold color in this lighting.  She looked to the side, then to the other, as people comfortably spooned this and that into their mouths.  Nobody was clutching their bread to their chests, nobody was guarding their milk, it was… casual.  And they had dessert .  And nobody was coming up to her to ask if they could share it.  They all had their own desserts.  

‘This is what it’s like for them, isn’t it?’ she thought.

She thought back to the days of when her father ruled Dryl.  They never worried about food then.  She tried to think of decorations that might’ve been there.  Where were the banners of Dryl now?  Probably being used as someone’s shirt or pants.  She closed her eyes letting the fork clatter to the tray.  The heels of her hands came to her forehead.  Brightmoon was losing everything, this was truly the last bastion of hope for Etheria.  Their soldiers were out there on the front lines dying while they sat back here in opulence eating cake .  She wanted to scream, but she knew better than to disturb the quiet discourse that people were having in the lunchroom.  She sucked in air through her nose.  She got up, somehow not hungry anymore.  

She moved out of the eatery and into a hallway.  People walked from here to there, feeling important and essential.  She couldn’t be that conceited, it just felt better to be moving rather than sitting and staring at their hedonism.  Out came her box of toothpicks, looking over the selection trying to figure out what taste might get her to think of something rather than indulging in-...  She skipped evaluation and just jammed an olive green one in her teeth tasting cheese and pine splash in her mouth.  

Entrapta found herself pausing at a guard rail looking out over the rolling cityscape that somehow was untouched by this… wow, 30 year war now?  She studied the mysterious whispering woods, if not for that natural wall that seemed to somehow understand the motives of those that moved through, this kingdom would never stand.  She thought about the Horde Appleseed transports, she had seen them used in an exercise to deposit around five thousand troops from the distant capital of the Fright Zone into Sprokyte.  It was like a conveyor belt of war, unloading ready bodies into formation with terrifying efficiency.  She remembered how the sky itself seemed to howl with the relentless breaking of the sound barrier.  Her red eyes danced back and forth across the forest, the thought of a cloud of them swarming into the center square of commerce of Brightmoon chillingly vivid to her.  

She comforted herself with a tighter bite of the strange blend and forced her thoughts to ponder the prisoners that she had seen earlier.  It had been years since the horde had taken her mother and father prisoner.  How long had it been?  Eleven years?  She supposed that it had certainly been long enough, the time was right to start negotiations about releasing them.  Maybe with Nyland back in charge of Dryl things could finally start to become more normal.  

She started to loosely plan:  She was pretty sure the alliance was going to take her up on her offer of lethal weapons.  When they agreed, she could switch her offer of a small fee to free if it meant that she could be involved in the prisoner exchange.  She felt her body become lighter, a smile nestled at the crook of her mouth deepening the lines there.  It would be nice to get her dad back.  No, it wasn’t entirely personal, it would help raise the morale of her desperate people to see someone as beloved as Nyland return.  

But what if the Alliance refused to deal?  It would be stupid… but then again, not everyone was her.  She thinned her lips.  She couldn’t take that kind of risk.  The hesitant looks they passed to each other made her pretend the odds were 50/50…  Would she leave it up to a coin-flip?  That wasn’t like her.  No… no, she needed to be the master of her own destiny here.  She felt her extremities go cold feeling all the other roads of thought close off.  It really was the only way:  Tonight, she would break into Brightmoon’s jail so that she could have a word with the prisoners.  Even if things worked out perfectly, there’s no way that she, a princess and a director of Dry, would get to talk directly to them any other way.  She would have to take matters into her own hands.  Entrapta looked down at her hands, her red eyes drew to her right one… her killing one.  She became enchanted by the scars that she had there.  She absently chewed on the toothpick, was this a terrible idea?  She should ask-  

 

That’s right… she couldn’t ask her anymore-...  

 

Entrapta’s thoughts started to drift towards darker memories, but she quickly shook her head, refusing to go there.  No, she was hungry after all.  She turned and headed back to see if her dessert was still there, anything to keep her mind off things she didn’t want to face.

Chapter 4: What Can no longer be

Summary:

The double in double dip :D

Bow and Glimmer talk over what Entrapta proposed.

Frosta starts to understand her place in the afterlife.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PtWQd5ZSsfU

 

Bow gazed out over the rolling hills of Brightmoon, the tall, open archways of their room granting him a commanding view of the picturesque landscape.  Standing at an impressive height of 25 feet, these windows framed the scenery like masterpieces in a gallery.  His eyes traced the elegant arch of the bridge that spanned the ravine, a testament to the city's enduring strength and resilience.  Yet, it was the magical barrier of the Whispering Woods, their natural ally, that truly shielded Brightmoon from the impending threat of Horde invasion.

Below, birds soared gracefully over the bridge, their flight a serene ballet against the backdrop of the bustling central square of commerce.  The magic district lay even closer to the palace, its towering spire housed the revered Moonstone, a mystical gem that radiated a soft glow even in the darkest of nights, bestowing the city with its namesake, Brightmoon.

He looked to his left, the countryside there was verdant and fertile.  To his right was the vast ocean and beyond what his eye could see was the distant shores of Sileneas.  

Turning from the panoramic vista, Bow's attention shifted to his wife Glimmer, who paced anxiously in front of their bed.  The room exuded warmth and tranquility, adorned with carefully crafted vases and potted plants that lent a cheerful ambiance.  High above, long banners gently swayed in the soft breeze, their slight movements helping to dampen the echoes within the polished marble chamber.  The plush carpet underfoot added to the luxurious comfort.

She gave up pacing and sat on the bed, “I hate that she’s right.”

Bow nodded with a frown.  Entrapta’s words had stung, but they were true.  Brightmoon was the last bastion against the oppressive Horde dictatorship and they couldn’t keep their borders with the current tactic of non-lethal weapons.  They had been putting up a resistance for years but ultimately it was just that, a resistance to a seemingly unstoppable force.  

Bow came out of his thoughtful pause and said, “Just because she’s right, does not mean that we’re wrong.  If you look at what we’ve done here it’s an incredible testament to the code that we live by.  We've always prioritized the freedom and rights of all people,” he added, his voice soft but resolute.  “People come to the alliance, they join our cause, knowing that they're fighting with inferior stopping power.  But they do so because they believe in our principles, in what we stand for.”

Bow's words resonated with her, she watched the discomfort drift across Bow’s face.  She gave a sigh, “We’ve all heard the Horde's propaganda,” Glimmer continued, her tone growing more impassioned, “They dehumanize anyone who doesn't conform to their oppressive 'pillars of society' edicts.  They claim to represent all, but in reality, they enforce their laws without exception, crushing dissent and individuality.”  She looked down briefly, “If we switch to ending lives on their side, won't we be stooping to their level?” Glimmer looked back up into Bow’s eyes seeking reassurance.

A smile touched Bow’s lips then, “You know, this is the kind of conversation that they would never have.  What else can we do when faced with an enemy that only knows things as black and white, alive or dead?  We must loudly and forcefully proclaim ourselves as alive and valid to them if we want to make any kind of impact on that thought process.”  

He turned, bringing his knuckles to his lips holding his elbow with the other hand, “I don’t know how else we can do that without-...  without lethal force.  When a person has completely soaked his mind in the dogma of their order and only knows to stop when they die… I just don’t know how else to stop them.  I’ve heard stories from the army heads that the Horde soldiers they encounter don’t stop even when their friends are hit by salt rounds and fall to the ground shrieking in pain.”

Glimmer looked down at her hands sadly, “So we do it then… we start taking lives because we couldn’t stand up to their heinous actions.”

Bow settled next to her, “It’s going to take some time changing tactics.  We’ll have to gather the generals, we’ll have to see what they think but, yes.  I don’t see any other way to do this.  Do you?”

The queen balled her fists.  She lifted from the bed, angrily stomping a few paces away, she looked up at the banners in their ceiling raised her arms and gave a frustrated shout.  The fury inside her was gone and she just looked and felt small, “No… no there’s no other way.”

Bow followed after then held her tight, “We did our best.  That’s all anyone can ask.”

 

She was a monster.  Frosta forced herself to not turn away from what she was now.  The thing at the end of her neck was just charcoal.  She could get her bone to show by pulling back on the crumbling material that was once her skin and flesh.  When she would wipe it away, time would gather new material there to take its place.  Her burned throat hissed a terrifying noise when she slammed her fist into the mirror causing it to shatter.  

She knew her hand hurt from the action.  She looked down at the injury.  Without a beating heart, the blood stayed glistening on her knuckles unmoving.  Visually, her skin started to roll over the damage.  She looked at the fragmented reflection.  The many Frostas stared right back.  At least it felt closer to how she felt looking at herself.  She drifted to the center of the room.  She knew it would be strange for someone to come in right now and see this harrowing creature looming in the otherwise happy space.  

Like a briar, a thought hooked onto her mind.  Since she could bring a shroud to her face, what else could she do?  Her gaunt hand reached back to feel at the base of her neck trying to understand the origin of this knowledge.  Feeling her fingertips at the edge of her burnt neck made her remember the moments before her death.  She could almost see it.  The shrieks of her honor guard taking shot after shot in the hallways they were traversing.  It had come out of no-where.  

Then she was there, watching it.  One fell, making a guttural gurgle noise after taking a blast to their collar.  They jerked back and crashed into the wall behind them.  Their body writhed in painful death and then was still.  It was chaos everywhere but she found herself hyper-fixated on this one person’s moment.  Their legs squirmed, they shrieked almost louder in the next moment, they curled violently and seemed to duplicate themselves.  One image rolled on the floor holding their spurting wound, the other was death still.  The writhing version of them took in air again to shriek but stopped seeing Frosta.  

Instinctively, she called his name, “Castor.”  To her surprise, in this wispy space, the hissing voice came from her.  

Still holding his shoulder he looked up at her, then to Frosta’s limp body nearby, then back to the spirit.  The real world became dim, static-like before melting completely away.  Tears welled in his eyes as he clutched his shoulder, “Oh no, what is this?  What’s happening!”

Something held her back from speaking.  She didn’t know, so she didn’t want to speculate.  Features of the new space started to drift forward.  They were in a simple room with a pair of leather chairs separated by a low coffee table, a black cylindrical tea service sat on a large copper plate complimenting a simple geometric pattern criss-crossing its surface.  The room was dimly lit by geometric black sconce lighting.  Instinct seemed to kick in to Frosta and she gestured over to the sitting space.  There, in one of the chairs sat a man.  He had a distinguished look about him, complimented by a uniform-like suit.  He had a kind smile to his wrinkled face with salt-and-pepper hair that was neatly combed.  The three geared emblem on his chest indicated that he was from the city-state conglomerate of Dryl.  The colors on his lapel board indicated that he was very high ranking.  

Castor looked nervously from Frosta to the man who began to pour the earthy smelling tea into two cups.  His voice was relaxed, “Come, sit, you’ve been through a lot.”  

The honor guard held his shoulder still pumping blood, “I’m in..  a lot of pain.”

The man stood then, “Oh, I’m sorry.  We’ll get one of our doctors to help you with that.  Here, drink this, it will help distract you.”

Castor didn’t quite know what to make of the strange assurance.  He reached out a bloody hand to grasp the cup.  

The stranger visually encouraged him by taking a sip of his own cup.  He introduced himself, “I’m Orion Starwatcher.  We’re glad that you came.  You too, ma’am.  It appears you’re taking your first steps as a guide.”

“Guide?” her hissing, new voice scoffed, “I manifested in the Whispering Woods… started to think about my last moments of life and now I’m here.”

Orion smiled, “Yes.  Like I said, the first steps.  It’s best if you watch for now.”

 

Chapter 5: Escape

Summary:

---Contains spoilers!!---

Entrapta commits to her plan and selects the tools she's going to use.

Catra reflects on how she's going to be escaping brightmoon.

She has a-... *ahem* flashback... >_>;;; to remember what Adora smells like.

They talk about how their relationship is forbidden now.

Entrapta finds where Adora is being held.

Adora and Entrapta have a conversation about the Nyland Contract. Entrapta realizes there's no getting her father back.

Catra hears a gunshot. Runs to find out what's going on.

Finds Adora dead. Holds her. Screams...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CvLowsk1fAw

Entrapta’s guest room was spacious, the high ceilings caught reflections off the polished stone of the castle floors.  The sun was low in the sky causing the shadows to drift long and deep.  The walls that were normally pink held a sherbet wash over the tapestries that depicted some scenes that meant something to the people of Brightmoon.  Despite her station as a pseudo-head-of-state, Entrapta had done very little investigating of the histories of the surrounding kingdoms.  Growing up, her tutors had tried to impress on her the importance of Dryl’s place in relation to the surrounding kingdoms.  What little she remembered always seemed useful: the Hierophant Alliance respected kingdoms that maintained strong bloodlines.  Dryl, having lost its royal lineage seven generations ago, was never seen as a full equal.  The declarations mourned the young queen of the Kingdom of Snows and how: “This injustice would galvanize the Hierophant alliance once more!”

“… Oh and Nyland and Lysandra were there too.”

Entrapta’s teeth creaked, setting her jaw tight.  She squinted at the soldering project she had in front of her.  

Since then, she switched her focus from the high board of directors to the Arms and Armor division of the Integrated Systems Battalion.  They understood what was coming on that side of the government.  There would be no peace through negotiation.  They used her properly there.  Her projects advancing ballistics and armor were anticipating the the coming conflict that would be at their doors before they knew it. 

Entrapta shook her head recognizing the spiral down to spite.  She remembered how–.... she would say her feelings back to her, ‘Dryl must mend itself before it stitches the world.’

Entrapta's project puffed a plume of flux smoke puffed up into her unguarded face.  She thoughtlessly breathed it in, letting it comfortably nestle in the back of her throat like something familiar.  She had only been here for a few hours, but she had covered most of the tables with a smattering of wire, papers and a few travel-sized projects that needed her trusty soldering iron to be on.  Her alarm on her mini tablet started a cheerful tune reminding her that the projects were only there to distract her.  It was now time.  She sat back from the board, feeling the energy shift in her.  She forced herself to disengage.  

Entrapta looked over the items in the bulletproof suitcase that she brought with her.  All the while the jaunty tune kept playing.  She swept over to the device and stopped the noise.  She looked up trying to convince herself to leave the case behind.  She felt as though it was watching her expectedly.  Perhaps… she didn’t need the whole thing.  Maybe she could go through the items one by one and find reasons to leave them all behind.  

She clicked open the case and took stock.  There, inside was a selection of grenades that she had intended to demonstrate, notably a napalm one.  She needed to be surgical, they would stay behind.  ‘Good!  This will be easy.’   Next, she looked in the center.  There it was; she had just finished it a week before.  She stared at the brushed black casing of the Tytan Strike.  Nothing about her latest design in pistols was subtle.  It was a semi-automatic handgun with a sleek metallic frame.  It had a distinctive elongated barrel and angular contours.  The thing looked heavy, powerful and deadly.  She remembered feeling especially proud of the six pseudo-vents at its top that flashed every time the weapon fired its Pyroarc Mark 5c smart bullets that would literally home in on the target it saw.  Entrapta looked down at her right hand again.  She remembered the excitement she had as she was working on the gun.  How easy it was for her to sort through all the imperfections of the other handguns and assault rifles and improve on them.  Now-...  now was the time for it to be field tested, she realized.  Somewhere, somehow, she found some words rising to the font of her mind, 

 

‘Better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it.’  

 

She couldn’t argue with that.  She picked up the weapon, feeling the leaden weight in her hand.  She aimed it at the wall, the counterbalance gyros spun up.  She read the digital readout for bullets and-... “huh…” well this was something unforeseen in testing.  She wasn’t exactly sure where she would hide the weapon on her.  Behind the back would have to do.  She made the arms of her flight suit extra tight around her waist ensuring that the heavy weapon wouldn’t come loose.  

She gathered her mini-tablet and flicked through some maps that she had extracted from sonar and x-ray.  She had tagged those she suspected to be guards based on the density of the clothes that they were wearing.  She nodded, the exchange of the guard was going to be soon, she needed to be done right after they performed that operation.  

She looked around the room one more time, nodded to nobody, then slipped out the door kicking into a very speedy and quiet cadence of foot-hair-foot-other hair.  

 

 

Catra jolted upright, tossing the blankets off her and swiping at the air.  The enemy wasn’t there anymore…

She took in her surroundings.  She was on the floor, next to the spring mattress that the guards insisted stay in the room.  The pile of comforters on the floor was more than enough padding for sleeping on.  The room was simple by Brightmoon standards.  The afternoon light of sunset bathed the room in an orange haze overriding the cheerful pastel green paint on the walls.  The window itself was three feet by four feet.  Bolted to it on the outside was heavy rebar.  She had a small library of books, all of which were filled with Alliance propaganda.  Nearby on the table was a lunch sandwich with only a few bites taken out of it.  She wasn’t ready to hunger strike just yet but she could still send a message that she didn’t need their charity.  The room’s door was wooden but locked tight.  She looked at her claws, they had no idea what she was capable of with them.  

She curled her feet and tail under her, settling on her haunches and going back to the thoughts that she fell asleep to.  She could escape either way, the bolts of the outside were easily un-screwed by her claws, or the wooden door could be splintered by a few swipes.  A smile came to her lips, a dozen psychological warfare tactics came to her in an instant but just as quickly as they came, the phantom hand of Adora grabbing her scruff rushed into her mind.  That look in Adora’s eyes told her then that the danger was real here, despite the metaphorical padded walls and rounded corners she was surrounded by.  She knew she was reading into Adora’s actions.  She had to at this point.  Adora must have been looking out for her.  It touched a nerve in her mind, she wasn’t something to be coddled or protected, she was the one that was supposed to protect her.   She was the disposable soldier after all.  Catra’s tail annoyedly lashed behind her and she shook her back, sending her hair around her shoulders.  

She told herself, ‘That’s not the plan, Catra.  Focus on the plan .’ Going out the window would be very noticeable, so night-time cover would be the best option.  She roused herself from the floor and started warming up.  It was going to be a long night.  She was going through her calisthenics, just as the Horde had taught her to before a major conflict.  Which of course was tied to the dogma.  Which of course was tied to Adora.  ‘ No’ she thought ‘Not now, I have to have a clear head.’

She stretched down, she realized, part of finding Adora in this complex was picking up her scent.  Deep in her stomach something lurched, knowing that Adora’s scent was strongest… there .

Adora’s lips, her wrists, the pit of her crotch, those were the scents that she would need to pick up on and find here in their prison.  Of course those were strongest when they shared their bodies.  

Against her will, she found herself re-living the last time that they had.  The light was dim and private then, her voice had been making clipped noises of passion.  They were side by side with legs arced working on each other in those moments.  

Her mind brought her back to staring at Adora’s glazed, hot, labia, her own fingers were sliding along them deliberately, mirroring what was happening on herself.  She was panting hotly, they were on their sides, Adora’s tongue lapping away at her sending shudders through her body making her hips thrust.  Adora was clearly feeling the same way.  Gentle jealousy moved through her thundering mind in that moment, Adora was so much better equipped to do this than she was.  The papillae on her tongue made her be reserved in her reciprocation of being licked, just the tip steadily lapped away at Adora’s clit.  She felt Adora’s breath on her suddenly break its huffing rhythm.  A stuttering tremor bucked through her spine as she climaxed yet again.  They had traded the peak between them back and forth for what felt like forever, Catra had lost count at five.  A satisfied sigh murmured from her signaling that she needed a moment to come down again.  

Catra shifted, propping herself up on an elbow.  Adora rolled back showing off all she was to her.  Adora’s thighs slid against each other, a deeply satisfied grin with half-lidded eyes stared up at Catra.  Her heart skipped a beat; Catra felt called by that sweet, dreamy smile; she was needed over Adora’s scarred body.  She shifted, switching from her trench to all fours over Adora’s beautiful shape.  She looked between them admiring their differences as her dark hair shifted across her shoulder.  Adora was a pale cobblestone road of beautiful muscle lines that all lead to the pit between her hips.  Her stomach was housed within gentle hourglass curves that were etched with more scars.  Catra, above, was lean and almost untouched thanks to her frame built for speed.  Primal instinct made her draw back to her haunches, settling over Adora’s waist.  Her fingertips moved across her collars and just above her breasts.  She alternated pressing one heel of her hand, then the other into Adora making her chest tighten and pert for her.  Catra’s throat loudly rumbled, proclaiming to the dark room that this person is her’s and her’s alone, all the while her mismatched eyes drifted to slivers with the sweetest smile she could muster.  Catra shamelessly stared at Adora who held the look with her own half-lidded, satisfied gaze.  Finally she came down draping herself across Adora’s body like living clothing and nestled into the crook of her neck

They were in an alcove in the The Dark Garnet Fortress.  Adora had set Nelly as a guard hours ago down the hallway twenty feet away from the maintenance door.  Ever dutiful and trustworthy there was no doubt in either one of their minds that she still stood stoic, turning away anyone brazen enough to approach.  Catra smelled the mix of their scents, it tingled across her mind being burned in there forever.  Something about all the pomp and circumstance that they had done to get here in this moment had made it so much more desperate, but something was there with them, haunting the moments.  Adora had laced her fingers inside of Catra’s locks, digging gently into the base of her ears keeping that deep rumble in her chest going.  Catra kept her stare on Adora letting the moments tick away; as though any moment lost to darkness was the gravest sin to her.  

Despite the efforts, one of them had to say something eventually.

It was Catra.  Her private voice was chopped up by her purr, “When do we get to do this again?”

She felt Adora’s heart pump once faster, the faintest edge of her authority coming to her expression.  

Adora said, “Hopefully… whenever we want again soon.”

Catra’s hypnosis tenderly broke, she looked to her fingers delicately curling at Adora’s bare sternum.  Silently she thought for a moment, then another.  She finally said, “Maybe I could apply for the Geneshift program to–... to satisfy the edict.”

She felt Adora’s hand stop absently stroking her ear, “No… please Catra.”

Catra’s throat tightened, her voice a desperate, breaking whisper, “I don’t want to lose this, Adora!”

When Adora didn’t say anything back, she kept going, “We have to be able to make children if we want to stay together.  I’ll do whatever it takes.”  

Adora shifted, looking down at the top of Catra’s head, “Listen… It's just for a few weeks while we clean up this mess with the Alliance.  Hordak just wants all of our efforts to focus on closing this conflict out.  The edict will be reversed when the Alliance is over.”

Catra shifted to look her in the eye, “Then why is it exclusive to people like us?  Who can’t make children?”

Adora just stared at her for a long moment.  Finally she said, “I’ll talk to him the next chance I get.  I will fix this.  I will fight for us.  I promise .”

Maybe it was the moment, but at the time Catra had let it drop.  Now-… now she needed to talk to Adora about it.  Adora’s look at their capture came back to her, ‘escape first!’ But if she escaped, she wouldn’t be able to clear the air with Adora.  Maybe never clear the air with her ever again.  Presently, she grit her teeth.

Catra realized she had finished the stretching routine and looked out the window.  The sun had given up on the day, leaving little more than a red horizon bathing the city in an eerie twilight.  She took steps to the window to start the night’s activities… then the lights flickered off, then on again.  She made a face briefly, even the mighty Brightmoon’s magical lights must have power issues .  

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sRrwChWbK9w

Joe walked down the hallway of the minimum security holding cells, bored.  Nothing ever happened here.  As he reached the end of the hall, something caught his eye.  The door to the security closet was slightly ajar.  He paused, shining his flashlight over to verify he wasn’t just imagining things in the dim lighting.  His hand instinctively moved to his holster, though he didn’t draw his gun yet.  Patty was supposed to be on duty, and she was usually thorough, had she just forgotten to close the door?

Joe cautiously approached the security closet, pushing the door open with his flashlight.  “Hey, you gotta pull this door closed I-”

The words died in his throat- Patty was unconscious on the floor, her body limp.  Someone was there, hovering over Patty.  Her face turned to him suddenly, partially obscured in the shadows.

Joe’s training kicked in, and he yanked out his glock- too late.  In an instant, something cold and wet was pressed against his face before she was even in his space.  Her pigtails held a cloth soaked in a pungent, sickly-sweet chemical that burned his nostrils.  The smell was overpowering, making his eyes roll up into his head.

Entrapta quickly helped him to the ground with her tight arms and hair.  She gave an annoyed huff but pulled his body into the security room and made sure to close the door this time.

She put her hands on her hips speaking to the passed out people in an accusatory manner, “Well that’s three now.  Anybody else in this wing want to join the party!?  No?  Fantastic.”

She could feel her pulse throbbing in her neck as she shifted their bodies against each other on the ground before her.  She couldn’t help but feel like she was positioning analogs before her.  It itched at her that her fingers weren't trembling, instead she just felt… alive.  

She accused the chloroform-coma people, “I’m guessing the latent Ares chemicals in my body are the reason that I’m feeling so focused right now… maybe a few more victories and they’ll back off?  Maybe?”

When the people didn’t respond she said annoyedly, “You guys are no help.”  

She then used her hair and arms to adjust the people to make their feet perfectly lined up together on the ground.  Then she pulled on the last one’s spring-loaded security tag.  Yes, now they were alphabetical, Joe, Patty, Sam.  After, she drifted over to the monitor console to figure out who was in what holding cell.  She flipped from cell to cell but there were no Horde prisoners to be found.  Her breathing increased while the back of her neck grew damp.  She shook her head, “No..  no.  nonono….”  She brought up her mini tablet and tapped a few instructions in.  

She mumbled, “They can’t have made the exchange already.”  She halted, giving off a guffaw, “No way…” She tapped out a command on the console and switched over to the ‘interrogation’ cameras.  Sure enough, prisoner Adora was in interrogation room 2.  “Finally, something is going my way!” Entrapta told the unconscious people.  She stepped back from the inferior Brightmoon security technology and held up the three dimensional map route on her mini tablet lighting the way to the proper room.  She glided over to the door via her halo hairbands.  She turned to address the sleeping room, “Take me to your leader.” before moving to the door to slip out.

Her head peaked back in asking them, “That was a cool, ‘one-liner’ right?”  There was only silence.  She argued, “Well then you come up with something better!”

Even with the revisit, Entrapta missed a light silently and steadily winking on and off beneath the console.  Had she thought to look, she might have seen the button labeled ‘silent alarm’ pressed inward.

https://youtu.be/aoJ-NYeuxGk?si=n01xF4rBloKvdo8d

Adora was handcuffed to the table.  It was an interesting tactic, she had to admit.  The lighting was crisp, the only thing illuminated was the table in front of her, keeping things lit and unlit in sharp contrast would increase tension to the questions asked.  The one sided mirror to her right was intended to keep her guessing about who might be watching.  The decanter of ice water was a bit of a mystery.  The threat of… slight dehydration?

She recalled the odd interaction at the door moments ago.  The lights flicked off, then on.  Then someone opened the door a crack, and almost entered, but someone else stopped them.  She had heard quick whispers, then it closed.  

Then it had been what seemed like a half hour passed.  Similar to solitary she supposed.  She praised herself for sticking to the training.  She went back to looking at the condensation water droplets having a slow motion race down the decanter as they assimilated more and more of the ambient water in the room.  

She was prepared when the door opened again… uncomfortable from the awkward sitting position, but prepared nonetheless.  

The woman entered the room with a confident stride, her presence commanding attention as she took her seat across the table.  The light reflected off the beige tabletop, illuminating her features with a subtle glow from below.  She was a woman in her forties, streaks of white hair sprouted from her temples and crown intermixing with the purple.  Her hair was wrapped up into two enormous pigtails by two devices that softly winked purple light in a specific ‘chase’ pattern.  

She wore a distinctive Dryl flight suit, its top half discarded and tied around her waist in a makeshift knot.  She sported a form-fitting white tank top that accentuated her lean physique.  Despite her rugged appearance, her bare face revealed high cheekbones, a broad jawline, and piercing red eyes that betrayed an intelligence and determination akin to someone accustomed to commanding respect.  

Despite this, Adora noticed the grime on her hands, this wasn’t an interrogator, it certainly wasn’t someone on the security team here in Brightmoon.  She squinted her eyes trying to figure out why she seemed familiar.  She just sat across from her for a beat, then her tongue moved across her teeth behind her lips making her jaw flex.  She silently produced a small tablet, tapped on it and then turned it around showing some documentation and an iconic emblem.  Adora recognized it, it was the Nyland contract.

Finally she spoke, her voice low, a grit to it, “Eleven. years.” 

Adora cooly lifted her gaze from the document to the woman.

She vaguely clarified, “They’ve been your prisoners for eleven years.”

Adora’s cold blue eyes studied her.  She said the same thing that she’s been saying for almost two days now, “Adora Starborn, Second in Command.  Serial number Zero, One, One, Nine.”

Entrapta looked dubiously at Adora.  She shifted in her position and pulled out a small box with a flip top that she popped open selecting a strange paper tube.  She stuck it into her mouth.  She fished out a small device with another lid that clacked metallically open.  She pressed a button on it which caused a small visible electric arc that she brought to the end of the paper tube.  In went a breath causing the end to turn a cherry red.  Entrapta looked up from the ritual at Adora and let the breath go, sending a great plume of thin smoke from her face filling the room with a noxious mix of burnt plastic and strangely sweet lead and solder scent.  

She tried again, “Y’see I’m not here with Brightmoon.  I just knocked out a few guards to get to you, Ma’am.  I’m putting a lot on the line just to be here so I’d appreciate something more than your protocol answer.”

Adora’s expression remained stoic.  Entrapta shifted, taking another long pull of the Ares stick.  She added, speaking through the cloud of her breath, “That light that flickered?  That was me shunting in a loop video feed to the secondary observation post.  It should take them about an hour before they realize something is up… maybe two.  Nobody knows I’m here.”  

When Adora remained still, Entrapta shifted in her position cleaning up the box of chemical sticks, “Alright, then we try the other one.  She seemed to be more on the ball anyhow.”

Entrapta noticed Adora’s lips twitch, something shifted in how she was being watched now.  Entrapta smiled with half her face as she tucked the box into her pocket adding, “...  and she’s cuter .”

Adora begrudgingly asked, “What do you want?”

The woman’s brows raised, “Really?  They hadn’t tried playing you off each other yet?”

Adora scowled, her voice sharp, “I’m sorry , I’m not really accustomed to exchanging pleasantries with my captors.  What prisoners are you talking about?”

Entrapta’s playfulness fell away, she jabbed a finger at her mini tablet displaying the Nyland contract, “ The prisoners.”

She looked at the tablet, then back to Entrapta repeating her question haltingly, “What prisoners?”

Entrapta rolled her eyes, a groan escaping her, “Alright you’re going to play dumb.  Fine.  I’m talking about the extended stay in the Fright Zone that my father and mother King Nyland and Queen Lysandra of Dryl.  They went to the neutral territory of the Kingdom of Snows to negotiate a contract in which they were assaulted .  The horde must have taken the King and Queen into custody for protection when the attack happened.  They said so in the contract.”

Adora’s face went through a few expressions before she pointed at the small device, then curled her finger indicating that she wanted to see it.  Entrapta slid the item across the table to Adora’s chained hands.  She proceeded to flick along the screen searching for a passage.  She slid her fingers across most of one, highlighting it and then sent it back across the table.  Her stoic glare remained in place, her chair groaning as she leaned back into it.  

Entrapta’s red eyes stared evenly at the girl, then picked up the device to look closely at the passage

 

‘Article 272.5 - It is hereby granted to the Horde full discretion and authority over matters concerning the safety and security of the royal family of Dryl, including the implementation of necessary measures for the preservation of strategic interests.  This includes but is not limited to the oversight of returning the royal family to Dryl should it be found fit for securing its own borders.’

Only the words ‘ including the implementation of necessary measures for the preservation of strategic interests.’ had been highlighted.

Entrapta sighed, her frustration evident, “Right, I’ve read the passage about a hundred times now.  I’d like to argue that the blockade that the Horde is currently conducting at the entrance to Dryl is more than adequate protection for the king and queen of Dryl.”

Adora let an edge rise in her voice again, “How would that relate to the strategic interest of the Horde?”

Entrapta recoiled as though was just physically slapped.  She explained with an exasperated tone, “Because it would return Dryl to stability so that we could produce more weaponry.”

Adora explained, “Dryl’s signaling and duplicity were terrible under Nyland’s rule.  Contracts were muddled and confused as the differing opinions of the Board of Directors never allowed for a final say.  Things are more predictable since the removal of the royals.  Just like all the other kingdoms that fell without their ruling bloodline, Dryl now serves society as it should.  If the royals returned, it would only allow for a new contract to be forged, causing disorder.”

The back of Entrapta’s neck flexed, causing her head to quiver.  Her eyes looked a thousand yards past Adora.  She could feel the Ares chemicals she had been inhaling ignite in her blood, every hair on her raised.  An uneasy breath came from her, then said, “You… never intended to return them. ”

The second in command’s lower eyelids flexed.  Adora scoffed saying, “You’re on Dryl’s Board of Directors, you’re their princess and you don’t know what the Horde does to Royals?”

Surges flowed through Entrapta, the chemicals burning in her limbs, demanding she do something to stop the threat.  Faster than Adora could track, Entrapta's fist dented the steel table two inches.  Entrapta’s nose flared as her breath elevated, “You have to shut up right now .”

Adora looked from the dented table to the incensed woman.  She said calmly, “There’s no use getting mad at me.  I wasn’t the one that made sure that they couldn't return.  That was decided by the detention master-”

Fluidly, Entrapta’s Ares infused body snapped to its feet snatching the nearest, deadliest weapon into her hand, the Tytan Strike.  All the suddenly frightened girl got to say was “Hey now-” before the prototype thundered its shot announcing to the whole prison that she had just fired.  Adora’s eyes shocked wide, mouth open, as her body jerked back from the blast.  Her throat made a disturbing visceral grunt, her hands instinctively reached for the wound sending her torso to the desk with a meaty thud before she relaxed in death behind the table.  

Entrpata felt her breath steady, the cottony ring began to subside from the tooth-rattling noise of the prototype.  A shock rumbled through Entrapta’s body tip to tip.  Adora was still attached to the table, but only her forearms and hands were visible.  The absence of immediate danger flooded Entrapta's body with a rush of endorphins, fueled by the Ares chemicals.  Pleasure slammed its way into her brain but it had to contend with the logic that she had just killed another bound prisoner.  She looked to her trembling hands and brought the weapon down to her side.  A new truth rose up in her mind, she had to get out of there and fast.  Before she could bring any other thought to bear, she was running… and there was shouting…

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tnZ1F5OzlLU

Catra's nerves coiled like spring-loaded traps as she prowled down the desolate hallway of the minimum security holding cells.  The absence of guards set her fur on edge, a telltale sign that something was amiss.  She caught a faint whiff of Adora in the air, a scent that stirred a mix of concern and determination within her.  There wasn’t a soul in the minimum security holding cells.  She prowled on her hands and feet smelling the doors one by one selecting the one that smelled the most like the second in command.  She hesitated at the door looking left and right just one more time to make sure that the guards were nowhere to be seen.  Criss-cross went her claws, slicing through the barrier easily.  She pushed through the splintered door and peered inside… an empty cell.  

She called into the room, her voice a strained whisper, “Adora?”

A distant thunder of a firearm shattered the silence.  Catra’s feline ears zeroed in on where it came from.  Intuition told her that something was terribly wrong about that noise.  Down she went again to all fours dashing as fast as she could towards it.  

She dug her claws into the ground, skidding to a stop as she heard a terrible commotion ahead.  Shouts and screams preceded a scuffle that drew closer.  Catra ducked into a nearby room, leaving the door open a crack to see.  At the intersection of the hallways, a figure flashed past at blinding speed.

“Leave me alone!” the person screamed.

Guards, moving at half the person’s speed, followed in a group, shouting for them to stop.  When the commotion subsided, Catra prowled out of the room and headed in the direction they came from, following the strong scent of gunpowder.

She finally found the source of the metallic stench.  She carefully moved closer to the only door that was open here, interrogation room 2.  Inside the room turned Catra’s stomach.  A single light shone down on cuffed hands bolted to the table.  They were red with stress from getting little blood from the limp body they were attached to.  The smoke was still in the air from the discharged weapon, a strange alien burnt plastic smell hung in the air as well.  Her clawed feet launched her to the table, she grabbed at the clothing on-...  on Adora’s shoulder.  

Catra’s eyes were immediately watering as she gathered her up onto the table and into her lap.  Every fiber of her being shook, “No…” Catra whispered.  She jabbed her fingers to Adora’s throat, desperately trying to find her pulse.  It wasn’t there.  It knifed into her heart realizing she was holding Adora’s dead body.  Catra's own heart thrashed in her chest as though it could pump for the both of them.  She clutched Adora tight with her quaking hands.  A disturbing wail of loss ripped from her throat ending in stumbling sobs.  Another of her screams followed.  After the initial shock, Catra winced terribly, her tears fell easily down her face.  She shifted to cradling Adora's shoulders in front of her.  She desperately pawed at the mess of Adora’s hair brushing her palms over her clammy, cooling skin.  She was ruined by whatever they did to her here.  She was all ruined, this beautiful human being that stood with her through all the trials of the Horde now lay dead.  

“It’s okay…” her raw voice said.  Her hand stroked Adora’s face.  Catra somehow found words through her delirium, “You can rest now.  I’ll make them pay.  I know, it’s up to me now… you just rest.”

Even though Catra didn’t want to, she started to look down at Adora to discover how she ended.  Something peculiar stood out.  In the dead center of Adora’s chest… something was glowing softly.  Everything about the space indicated that it was an entry wound from a massive bullet, but instead of gruesome blood, there was only a quiet, almost comforting glow.  Her fingertips reached out to touch what it might be.  

On contact Adora lurched in Catra’s hands, her throat gulping in an enormous breath.

“Adora!!” Catra screamed, she switched positions on the table as Adora struggled with new life.

Adora’s pale and red hands gripped Catra tight, digging deep into her shoulders, tears in her bright blue eyes, “Did it work!?  Where Am I??”

Chapter 6: The Underworld

Summary:

Frosta finds Adora's passage into death peculiar.

They negotiate bringing her to a specialist.

Alyndrah Nulvis is reintroduced.

Alyn says that it's possible to get Adora back to life but it will take a risky spell to do so. She explains the spell.

There is a.. rea7ity shape..... e 2 5 o r.......
[7 × 2 = 2+2+2+2+2+2+2 = (7 + 5 + 2) = (2 + 5) + 7 = 5 × 2 + 2 + 2] {7 − 2 = 5} (5+2=7) ||[2×5×7=70] {7+0=7}|| (7−5=2) (7 × 2 = (7 + 2 + 5)) (5+2=7) [7x2=7 + 5 + 2] (5+2=7) [7x2=(7 + 7)] { } (7 × 2 = 2 × 2 + 2 + 2 + 2 + 2 + 2) [7x2=2 × 2 + 5 + 5] (5+2=7) {{2x5x7=70} 7+0=7} (5+2=7) [7x2=7 × 2] (5+2=7) (5+2=7) (5+2=7){7×2 = 7+5+2 = 2×2+5+5 = 5+2+2+5} {=5} (5+2=7) [7x2=(5 + 2) + (5 + 2)] (5+2=7) [7x2= 2 × (5 + 2)] {(2+2+5+5)-7-2=5} (5+2=7) |2⁵ − 25 = 7| [7→2→5→7→2→5→7] (∞)

Adora comes back to life.

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fYQKGrva_rw

How long had it been?  How long had she been gathering people who had perished in this horrible war?  Nothing bothered her anymore.  About the only thing she felt these days was annoyance when she had to gather a person’s soul that had been vaporized by large explosions.  She had become accustomed to seeing other guides wherever she went.  This time was different for her though.  She watched from the netherworld the death about to unfold before her.  Entrapta was in a killing state of mind, sure, but the stick in her mouth had sent something through her that tipped her over the edge.  The thundering life-ender was uninteresting, it’s what happened when the bullet struck Adora.  In that split second where it slammed into her bursting her liquified organs behind her everything stopped.  Time, energy, dimensional space all seemed to stop.  Frosta was inside of it, so she simply did what guides did.  She brought a hand to Adora’s shoulder and nudged her out of her old body, and the bizarre moment fell apart.  The corpse collapsed onto the ground.  Adora’s soulform was screaming but Frosta didn’t mind, she was too interested in the fact that her liquified organs never spattered to the floor behind Adora’s corpse.  Frosta squatted down, her ethereal hands brushed along the dark ground hoping to find moisture but there was none.  

The only thing that made Frosta stop investigating was when Adora started to shake her, “You listen to me!  We have to go after her!  She’s crazy! Who knows what she might do?”

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” Frosta replied. 

“No–… No we have to go after her!” Adora insisted

“And do what exactly?” asked Frosta.

Adora looked at her body laying twisted and limp still attached to the table.  She reached for her corporeal face starting to come to terms with what happened.  “I can’t leave them… I’m not done yet.” she said, she looked intensely to Frosta, “I won’t go, I can’t be dead.  It’s-… it’s not right!”

Frosta felt the soul start to slip from her, it wasn’t deciding to pass easily.  The world became grey and fuzzy like it always did.  She forewarned, “Then stay here, and become nothing.  I don’t care.”

Something strange was happening though, usually when a soul decided to stay she would feel the great bond between the dead and living release her from her burden of gathering their soul.  It wasn’t so with Adora.  Something was painfully keeping her here, melding with the background.  Frosta decided to draw back to Adora’s limbo instead of returning to the afterlife.  

The girl was running pointlessly after Entrapta.  Frosta gathered her strength to shift from where she was to be in front of Adora instantly.  Frosta knew that since Adora was a recently deceased, her form would still make her skid to a stop.  

“Get out of my way!” shouted Adora trying to shove Frosta, only to find it was like pushing against a brick wall.

Frosta ignored the declaration, saying , “Something… is strange about you.”

Adora shook her head and dodged around the deathly looking princess only to be blocked by her again.  Adora looked to her left only to see Frosta there too, bilocating.  

She quickly dismissed the mind-warping state that Frosta was in, insisting, “We have to stop her!”  

Annoyed, Frosta skipped them forward to where Entrapta was in a holding cell, stripped of her gear, her long purple and grey hair spilled over her shoulders, she had her arms wrapped around her knees in a ball and was weeping.

“Like this?” Frosta asked.

Adora was astonished.  “What did you do?  Where are we?”

Frosta growled, “We are no longer bound by time or space, Adora.  Your time in making active decisions is over.  You are to come with me to the afterlife.  This is not a choice for you.”

Adora sneered, “I won’t go with a princess .  There has to be something wrong.  I won’t go with you.”

Frosta took a slow breath folding her arms, “I have eternity to wait for you to change your mind on that.  And to put that into perspective, I have at one point waited until the sun consumed the planet for someone to change their mind about being dead.”

Adora squinted remembering something odd Frosta said earlier, “Didn’t you threaten that I would ‘become nothing’ if I didn’t come with you?”

Frosta reminded her, “Like I said, something is strange about you.  We are bound.”

Adora concluded, “Like the person who wouldn’t go with you and became engulfed in the sun.”

Frosta just tightened her folded arms.

Adora took a moment to think about the no-win situation, then suggested, “Okay… then if time and space mean nothing we can go back to before I died and I can change that part.”

Frosta rolled her missing eyes, “Alright.”

In an instant, Adora re-lived the last few minutes where she died and was right back where Frosta finished agreeing to the idea.  

Adora’s soulform bent over nauseated by the split second experience.  Frosta chided, “Want to go again?”

Adora scowled at Frosta, “You could have just told me that it’s not possible to change the outcome.”

Frosta retorted, “We both know that you weren't going to believe that.  You’re still thinking like a living and that you are able to make active changes on reality.  You are something outside that realm now.  Your only choice is to let me do my job now and take you to the other side.  No bargaining, no convincing, no special pleading.  This is it, your time is concluded.” The former princess reached out, beckoning the girl, “Now, come with me.”

The idea settled sourly on her, she didn’t spend her entire life dispensing orders organizing troops and leading victory after victory only to be shot and killed by some princess while in chains.  Adora drew closer to Frosta despite her ruined features, “This isn’t the end, there’s always another option.  You’re going to produce it if you want any kind of cooperation from me.”

A tense silence grew between them.  Frosta’s voice gurgled, “Well… There is one person that was gathered recently.  She has done some remarkable things since her arrival…”

Adora took an aggressive step forward barking, “Then produce her.  This isn’t time for debate or stalling.”

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5DOnEnzIO9o

Frosta took Adora’s hand.  At her icy touch, the room around them blurred into a misty haze.  For a brief moment, Adora felt herself slip from the confines of ‘rooms’ and ‘space,’ as if the very concepts were dissolving.  It was disorienting—reality itself seemed to unravel and then re-knit around her, forming a new space.  The impossibility of it all stung every sense she had along with a few more, but before she could fully grasp what had happened, she found her feet on solid ground again, now standing in a different room.

It exuded an atmosphere of subdued anticipation, its walls painted in soft, soothing tones of pale blue and warm cream.  Adora noticed the two exits, one in front of her labeled rooms 25 - 27, the other behind her named exit.  There were a few open squares that clearly were meant for receptionists, which were abandoned.  The room was bathed in a soft, diffused light that lent the space a gentle glow.  Industrial-style chairs with minimal padding were arranged in orderly rows, offering seating for visitors awaiting news from the surgery room.  The air carried a faint scent of stale coffee and bleach, a reminder of the room's utilitarian purpose.  One of the ceiling tiles sagged slightly, bowed by an old, forgotten leak.  In the corner beneath it, a dark patch had spread, its irregular edges creeping along the wall like something slowly taking root.  Silk plants adorned the corners, their artificial greenery an unsettling attempt to mask the room's cold utility.  The steady hum of air purifiers droned on, a background noise that only heightened the strange, almost oppressive stillness.

The door holding rooms 25-27 produced a strange duo.  One, Adora recognized from reports.  She was a young lady with a spattering of flowers woven into long alternating colored hair.  She held a bandage to her neck with a low cut blouse framed by an elaborately embroidered coat.  A thick red silk wrap was cinched around her waist and gave way to dark, sea-green slacks.  She wore no shoes.  Perfuma’s expression was a contrary mix of pain and joy.  She said, “I think it’s holding well, doctor, I don’t-” a shock of pain stuttered her words, “don’t know how to thank you.”

Behind her, came a new figure, her face completely covered by a strange copper mask.  It softly glowed, as though its polished surface was bending the dim light around her into something brighter than just reflecting.  She wore a white lab coat over a crisp and meticulously cleaned white collared shirt.  A long dark green tie was around her neck in a thoughtful windsor knot.  Her upright, bloody hands were crossed, holding a simple clipboard against her chest.  Positioned as they were, the blood rolled slowly toward her wrists.  Her long neck had a few thin streaks of dark crimson that leaked down from her expressionless face.  Above that was a thick single pale ponytail that was wound by a strange device that winked in a specific sequence.  Adora couldn’t ignore how similar it was to Entrapta’s.  The woman’s shoulders were enhanced by her lab coat making them appear broad.  The coat, ending at her mid-thigh, framed a black pencil skirt that stopped at her knees.  Her feet ended in simple black flats.  Her voice was warm, but staunchly artificial, crackling over a tinny speaker in the mask, “It was my pleasure.  The pain should subside as your body becomes accustomed to the new brace.  I will continue to research to see if anything can be done for the pain, just try to be gentle with it until your body accepts the new implant.”

Perfuma gave a big smile and walked past them towards the exit.  The doctor approached.  

 

 

Frosta explained bluntly, “I would like some help with this one.  She is being especially stubborn about her current situation.”

“Of course, Frosta, I'm a doctor, I help people.” her speaker said.

Adora frowned at the terrible introduction.  She opted to move forward and extend a hand, “I’m Adora, Vice General overseeing the Army of the Horde.  Frosta has told me that you might have answers for me.”

She extended her hand, seemingly unaware of the blood still on her fingers.  Adora hesitated, her hand pulling back in revulsion.  Her speaker crackled sharply, breaking the calm, “Wait!”

In an abrupt, almost frantic motion, Alyn grabbed a towel, quickly wiping her hands clean with a meticulous motion.  Adora’s hand hovered awkwardly mid-air the whole time.  

“I am Doctor Nulvis.” Alyn's pale hands shot out again, clasping Adora’s with an eerie smoothness, her tone back to control.  “What are your questions?”

Adora thinned her lips at the capture of her hand.  She remained polite explaining her situation, “I refuse to believe that there’s no way back to the living.  Frosta is capable of manifesting in front of living people, I want to be able to do at least that.”

Alyn let go of her hand after a vigorous shake, “Well it’s Frosta’s fate to be a guide, if you’re interested in changing professions we would have to look into doing a soul reforge, which would be problematic since whatever you came out as would be a fresh canvas.”  When Adora looked confused Alyn explained quickly, “The soul-form you would become wouldn’t be related or maybe not even care that you wanted to influence the living world.”  

Adora asked, “Soul form?”

When Adora still didn’t grasp it, Alyn tilted her mask around Adora to where Frosta was, “Did you even try to explain what was going on?  She doesn’t know about soulforms?”

Frosta settled in one of the nearby chairs, “Very stubborn.” was her response.

The doctor regarded Adora again, “Your soul-form is the shape you find yourself in now.  For now, you’re only able to perceive things as the living do, three dimensional space, bodies, rooms and the like.  As time goes on you’ll start to understand how to perceive things for what they are.”

Adora’s expression darkened more and more as she spoke, she took a step closer, “I don’t think I really care about that.  I am going to return to my body, I’m not done with things there.  The oncoming operations that the Horde will execute on Brightmoon are going to need their vice general, me .  Catra is capable, but if we want to ensure victory we’re going to need me commanding!  Now you’re going to tell me how to get back to my body!”

The doctor’s attention started to drift back to Frosta.  Her amused voice crackled over the speaker at Frosta, “Stubborn…”

The sarcastic comment wasn’t funny to Adora; she grabbed Alyn’s jaw forcing the eyeless, glowing copper mask to point right into her icy eyes and demanded, “Less stalling, more work.”

Alyn defiantly retorted, adding to her thought, “Stubborn... and fortunate.”

Silence rested between them.  Alyn’s hand came up to grasp Adora’s vice grip; her gentle touch was more of a nonverbal suggestion than a demand.  Her tinny speaker said, “According to the preliminary scans that passively come up for me, you're a chronicler soul, an anchor in time and space.  Normally this means that you have some kind of destiny to fulfill on the living plane.”  

Adora finally let her hand relax, it seemed like Alyn was working with her.  Alyn continued, “Your rank in the Horde indicates that you have already done that.  Becoming the second in command to a conquering nation is quite the feat, however we could override that part of your destiny ending and write a new one.”

Frosta rose from her seat protesting, “You mean it’s possible ?”

Alyn let go of her clipboard with one hand pointing at Adora, “Only because of her makeup.  And even then we have to be very careful in how we approach this.  Only after extensive study was I able to determine the problem with the last time the procedure was done.”

Frosta folded her arms.  Ignoring it, Adora asked, “What happened last time?”

Alyn answered, “Well, it’s hard to say.  The procedure…” Alyn’s voice switched to dismissive, “Spell as the writer loved to call them… is the last one outlined in The Lexicon.  It theorized that it was possible to transpose a piece of time itself from one reality and merge it over another.  Then that disruption would cause a schism that would allow for a new archway event to be impressed into the new reality in the chaos of two realities trying to become a single timeline.  If that new archway event was tied to the chronicler soul and the event was at a point post mortem… Well, the writer thought that the fabrics that made the living’s reality would have no choice but to allow the chronicler to return to the material plane so that they would be at that new archway event.”  

The blank look on Adora’s face clued in Alyn that she was moving too fast, “Okay… how about… if you were writing a story, and you write ‘Jon buys a dog.’ on page 1.  Then on page 2, ‘Jon dies.’  Then on page 3 we have ‘Jon’s dog attends Jane’s wedding.’  We, outside of the book, could white out the sequence ‘’s dog’ on page 3.  Then it would read: “Jon       attends Jane’s wedding” and now Jon is at Jane’s wedding.  We would just think that the writer strangely made a grammatical error and move along with the story.”

 

Adora slowly nodded thinking she understood.  

 

Adora said, “So you said you discovered the problem the last time the spell was cast?”

“No!  out of the question.” said Frosta, “Alyn, you were supposed to help me here!”

Alyn’s green hairband sequenced deliberately, at the same time a strange metallic grind came from the ground.  Adora and Frosta both looked to see a small copper top about four inches tall vibrating in place only a few feet from them.  Alyn’s mask said to Frosta, “I think you can go, I will take over from here.”  As she spoke the top kept spinning increasing speed, beginning to vibrate tighter and tighter.  The specter looked at the device, her expression impossible to read.  She looked back to Alyn, “This isn’t over.” Frosta promised.  

Frosta simply disappeared as though she was never there.  Alyn cheerfully spoke through her tinny speaker, “If you would come with me, I can take you to the spell circle room so that we could begin the procedure… if that’s something you still want.”

Adora nodded, her determination clear in her eyes.  Alyn gestured for her to follow as she led the way down the empty corridor.  The soft hum of machinery echoed through the halls, accompanied by occasional hushed whispers that seemed to emanate from unseen corners.

Adora asked, “How sure are you that this is going to work?  What was wrong about the last time the spell was cast?”

Alyn brushed the lips of her copper mask.  She hummed uncomfortably, then said, “Spells… are a technology that we don’t fully understand but can study and manipulate… I’d much rather call it a procedure.”  The doctor let her hand move back to the clipboard she held against her chest, “I think that the writer of the Lexicon was too ambitious of their own abilities.  The procedure requires three fractal runes that need irrational space to exist in.  Since the writer was so entrenched in pure sorcery, they thought that they could start with crude markings representing the final markings and then as the… spell started they would complete the end parts in mid-cast.”

Adora smirked, “Very ambitious.  Even Shadow Weaver couldn’t make changes to spells once they began to be cast.”

Alyn’s mask turned to look at Adora, slowing her pace to a stop, “You… knew the Lexicon writer?”

Adora stopped as well, regarding Alyn, “She… she was my mother until the invasion of Lyte.”

Alyn’s mask shivered, hearing Adora say the name of her decimated hometown.  “Oh… I see…”  The doctor was clearly struggling with something, but she managed to keep the conversation moving, “Terrible thing… that happened in Lyte.”

Adora was too interested in learning more, “ She wrote the Lexicon?  Can I see it?”

Alyn’s mood seemed to completely shift, saying coyly, “I thought you wanted to return to your body?”

Adora replied, “I-...  I do I just didn’t expect-  Wait can I see her again here?”

Alyn pitched her head, “Nobody knows what happened to the writer.  All of the medicine I practice comes from her foundational research in soul-forms.  Based on what I discovered about what she was attempting-... well… It’s not likely she exists anymore.”  

Adora frowned, “What do you mean?”

The doctor pivoted on her shoes, beginning to walk and talk again, “She did just what you said she couldn’t do, she was going to use her very essence to gather enough power and siphon it into pocket dimensions to stretch the fractal runes out to infinity.  A terrible plan.  Especially when you can simply have a computer display a fractal instead of introducing non euclidean spaces to finish out the spell.”

Adora’s steel blue eyes dashed left and right, “You mean… she spent all her energy so she’s… gone- gone?”

Alyn didn’t answer, instead she pushed open the door to their destination revealing a strange interior that was a cross between her mother’s spell room and a medical lab.  The walls were adorned with intricate symbols and sigils, etched into the smooth surface in a language that seemed to transcend the boundaries of comprehension.  Soft, pulsating lights shifted from green to warm white which bathed the room in an ethereal glow.  Elongated shadows danced across the floor like spectral apparitions.

In the center of the chamber was a low steel table surrounded by a mystical glowing circle in the ground.  It was interrupted by three monitors embedded into the floor, their surfaces awash with a mesmerizing display of ever-shifting fractals.  The intricate patterns seemed to writhe and twist with a life of their own.  Above the table hung a bouquet of cables that each had a sensor at the end.  On one wall was a setup of six flat-screen tube monitors.  The air smelled of ozone and a strange melange of things from long dead flesh to bleach to stagnant water.  There was a sense of anticipation, as if the very fabric of reality itself hung in delicate balance within the confines of the room.  

Alyn moved into the space and gestured to the table, she prompted the girl, “If you’re prepared…” 

It wasn’t even a question.  Adora followed after and laid down on the table.  Alyn moved along her side and selected a few cables to start th

 

 

 

 

..  .....     .......      

 

 

 

 

On contact Adora lurched in Catra’s hands, her throat gulping in an enormous breath.

“Adora!!” Catra screamed, she switched positions on the table as Adora struggled with new life.

Adora’s bright blue eyes were scared darting around with what just happened to her, “Did it work!?  Where Am I??”

She was wrapped up in one of Catra’s tight furry warm hugs.  She was convulsing with sobs crushing her shoulders as guards called to each other nearby at the doorway.  

Adora’s skin prickled suddenly, understanding.  She said with wonder, “I’m at Jane’s wedding…”

Catra pulled back from the embrace, her face wet, but laughing with relief.  She grabbed the sides of Adora’s head, “What are you talking about?  Do you have brain damage!?”

Adora beamed happily at Catra, “No… just-… you’ll never believe what just happened to me.”

Catra just lovingly smiled back as guards rushed into the room roughly separating them. 

Chapter 7: Exodus from Brightmoon

Summary:

Bow visits Entrapta after her conflict with Adora. He explains that she will be handed over to the Horde unless she completes aligning with the Hierophant Alliance.

Catra and Adora talk over what happened and what the future looks like.

Catra extracts some revenge on Entrapta

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZDZYVWBA2-o

 

Entrapta settled her head horizontally on her hugged knees.  She was sitting on a bed alone in her cell.  It was a small miracle that they let her keep her halo hair bands.  Her pigtails wound around herself as well, like a purple cocoon.  

It kept replaying in her mind, how was she so easily manipulated by someone who couldn’t have been more than… twenty?  She was just a girl.  Had a whole life in front of her, and she just took that away from her.  All over something as immovable as her parents being dead, something the officer literally had no control over.  And now what?  Now Brightmoon was going to rescind their arms deals for sure, collapse the secret tunnels going to and from Dryl.  And the Horde!  Oh yes let’s not forget the Horde!  No longer satisfied with a siege they would probably advance against the automatic defenses now.  The traps and mines that she had set on their side of the siege wouldn’t last long against wave after wave of assault.  Then again, why bother with that?  Why not just use artillery from a distance?  Or the Appleseed deployers?

 

Don’t catastrophize.

 

She hated the good advice dispensed to her so long ago.  But it was still good advice.  

The door to her cell latched, she didn’t feel like moving, opting to stare through the window bars.  Someone came inside and drug the chair from the desk to sit near her perch.  They were patient, waiting almost a minute for her to acknowledge them.  A sigh came from her and she looked up.  It was the King.  His lips were tight.

Entrapta’s voice rasped, “What do you want me to say?”

Bow defeatedly asked, “Just why…”

Entrapta chose sarcasm, “Well you know, I got up yesterday morning thinking that I had things too good .  A castle that’s falling apart, a capital city under siege, no friends, a board of directors that gets upset every time I open my mouth.  So I thought I would add some sprinkles to that shit sandwich and murder some high ranking Horde official.”

Bow frowned, “I’m being serious here Entrapta.  I want to understan-”

Entrapta burst out of her cocoon leaning forward as she raised her voice, “It was an opportunity!   I saw the chance to get some straight answers from the Horde and I took it!  Now I’m just fucked !”

Bow observed, “You’re upset, I get that.  I want to know the real reason though.  I know you’re smart.  You’re too smart to do something like this without having a plan for if things don’t pan out.”

She guffawed falling back onto the bed.  Entrapta said, “Leaping without looking first is kinda my ‘thing’ your lordship.”  Entrapta drew her knees back up, then wrapped her arms around herself, “Just-… just get out of here, you don’t have to understand.  Sometimes… sometimes people are just the way they are.”

Bow waited for her to add more, but when it didn’t come he finally drew out the paper that he had received.  Entrapta’s gaze turned to the action.  Bow read from the middle, “We have decided that adequate punishment is to revoke the princess’s citizenship.  She is no longer part of the board of directors nor is she someone with the protection of the people of Dryl.”

Entrapta swallowed, as if that would do anything to stop the fissure forming in her heart.  Somehow she managed to keep her expression deadpan.  She thought, ‘Actually… kinda smart of them.  They won’t get retaliation from the horde this way.’

Bow’s look was sorrowful and added, “The Horde wants you as a prisoner and demands the release of Adora and Catra.”

Entrapta’s head jostled from her jaw resting on her knees while she spoke, “So… You want me to say it’s okay and that I understand.”  Her brows flexed, “I do , but I also know that once I’m in their hands, I’m as good as dead.”  A sardonic smile cracked on her face, “Or maybe you’re even more stupid than I could imagine and you want me to ask for asylum with the alliance!?” 

Bow breaking her gaze was all the tell she needed.  Entrapta pressed, “Why the hell would I do that?  Why would I damn even more people to death?”

Overwhelmed, Bow folded his hands and put them between his knees placing elbows on his thighs.  

Entrapta notched down trying to explain, “Bow… I’m dirt .  I’m a horrible misguided person that thought that she could inherit greatness and pushed her way around her family, friends, employees and coworkers.  I took risks that caused the starvation of my people.  I developed new and better ways of killing your people.  If this is your first time condemning someone to death I think I’m one of the easiest and most correct people to be executed.”

Bow looked at her, his jaw tightened, “You know… when I was a kid, I looked up to you.  When you invented Entrapt-net it changed everything, it let people communicate across boundaries in the sand.  You didn’t just invent better weapons, you invented the Chimera project that’s helped thousands of people overcome disease, mutations they never wanted.  You’re not a monster… at least you weren’t until last night.”

As he talked about Chimera, Entrapta’s mind flashed to her the piercing image of her hair picking up a spherical award for excellence in psychology out of broken glass.  Holding that bitter image in her heart she closed her eyes, correcting Bow, “Thousands of people who could pay for Chimera.”

Bow’s nose flared slightly, frowning, “How can you think you deserve this?”

Entrapta let her red eyes drift open, saying emphatically, “There are things about me, sir, that you won’t be able to wrap your head around.  You’re a cautious idealist.  I’m what happens when you take the dangerous path without planning.”  She replaced her head looking sideways out her barred window, “Just go home, kid… I’m done talking.”

Bow did his best, he waited at least ten minutes in the silence before getting up 

“We would have protected you.” he said softly.

When Entrapta didn't answer he finally left her to her self exile.  

 

The king and queen had entered her ‘cell’.  The prison guard had brought her black and red armor into the room as well.  She suspected that she knew what would unfold but she stopped short of hoping to be released.  Her icy blue eyes watched them threateningly as the pieces were set down on her reading table.  To her mild shock, the king of Brightmoon knelt before her on one knee, followed by Glimmer after a moment of hesitation.  

Bow said, “The Hierophant Alliance does not tolerate abuse.  We do not execute prisoners without fair trial.  We submit our humble apologies for how you were treated here in Brightmoon.  It is a miracle that you are alive despite the actions of Entrapta Phyllipina.  We emphasize that, while we did have contracts with Dryl’s Chronos factory those agreements are hereby dissolved directly due to those choices she made last night.  We hereby relinquish our custody of you and have arranged for you to be turned over to the Horde’s envoy.  Is this agreeable to you?”

Adora’s glare was even, she knew that silence was power.  For the first time since her capture she spoke words to them other than the military answer, “Yes, it is agreeable.”

Something nestled strangely in her heart at the pious gesture he was making to her.  It was wrong for him to bow before her.  She felt bile rise in the back of her throat thinking that she understood why it felt wrong.  The rest of his envoy had robotically followed the action of their royal highness.  She almost spat, “Get up, nobody in the Horde bows to each other like that.” 

When he rose to his feet his envoy did as well.  He asked, “Is there anything that we can do to make the rest of your stay here at Brightmoon more comfortable?”

Adroa figured that it wasn’t worth hiding their closeness at this point, “I would like Catra returned to me so that we can begin after-action reports.”

Bow nodded to the guard to make it so.  He lingered on Glimmer who had a subtle edge of disapproval to her gaze.  He looked to Adora, “Anything else?”

Adora squinted accusingly at him, “Short of you stepping down as king?  Maybe a knife to your throat?  No.  Do not think that this action will cause anything more than a delay in your deaths.”

The king let a smile touch his lips, “Well… would stepping down as king bring an immediate end to the needless deaths everywhere in Etheria?”

Glimmer couldn’t contain herself blurting out, “Bow!”

Adora sneered, folding her arms, “No, no it wouldn’t, because while your arbitrary laws stand without the ability to question, there will be needless death on your side.”

Bow crunched his brow, “Is that what you think happens here?  That I enact law after law to make the people miserable?”

Adora looked to his brainwashed guard to either side of him, “I suspect that you find yourself in an echo chamber, ignorant to the suffering around you.  There are no equals here, no merit to deeds done.  You are surrounded by lords and ladies that were born into their role and are more interested in making you smile than making their serfs pleased.”

Bow stayed quiet bringing a hand to his chin.  Finally, he shrugged, “I guess that’s possible.  How do you propose we change that?”

It didn’t make sense to her, “What?”

Bow said, “I pride myself on being able to hold an audience with anyone in the kingdom that has an idea.  So, how do you propose that I remove this echo chamber that you’re describing.”

It was all wrong, “I-...  I am not equipped to fully open diplomatic negotiations with you but I would think that it would involve allowing people to vote on decisions that the kingdom makes.”

Bow nodded and looked to his wife, “Voting day is in July, right?”

Glimmer nodded, she glared at Adora, “The fifteenth.”

Adora rolled her eyes, “Alright, so they can put suggestions at your feet, but you are still a royal.  You choose what is law at your whim.  That is fundamentally unequal.”

The king lofted his brows, “Have I ever turned over a decision-”

Adora cut in, “This is pointless!  I trust that our diplomats have already talked this over with yours.  It’s what the whole war is about and we wouldn’t be destroying you unless we were in the right.  This conversation is over.”

Bow thoughtfully watched Adora for a beat, finally adding, “We’re not the monsters you’re painting us into.”

Adora countered, “Nobody sees themselves as evil, but it doesn’t change the truth.”  She squinted, something terribly familiar about this exchange.

The king nodded, letting her have the last word.  He turned and left the room.  

 

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EW_qUHcgG8A

Later, on the road back to the Fright Zone

Catra lazily walked into Adora’s tent.  She was bent over paperwork like usual.  Adora’s eyes flicked up briefly, barely acknowledging Catra’s entrance before returning to the requisition forms.  

Horde markings were everywhere as though it wasn’t obvious enough already that they were in a horde encampment.  There were markings on Adora’s breastplate and shoulder… and cape… and desk.  The Horde took care of its people– but only after stamping their name on every act of kindness.

A moment passed, then another and Adora still didn’t acknowledge her.  

“So are you just going to bury yourself in paperwork?” Catra said, arching a skeptical brow.  She leaned her hip against the table.  “Or are we actually going to talk about it, this time?”

Adora glanced up from her toils, again for a fraction of a second, adjusted the pile, then stacked them neatly before she set them down.  “There's nothing to talk about.  They gave me a clean bill of health.  So I'm-”

“Don't say you're ‘fine’, Adora,” Catra retorted, a slight growl reverberated beneath the reproach.  “You may have everyone else fooled, but not me.” 

Her claws unconsciously slid along her fingers digging into the metal of the desk despite her care, “I know you.  Probably better than anyone on Etheria.  I know you're not fine.  Anybody wouldn't be after-"

“Don't say it,” Adora retorted, shaking her head.  “I don't need the reminder of what almost happened.  I was there, Catra.”

The two locked eyes, tension crackling between them.  Adora was the first to blink standing down, “It’s not like any of the stories, It’s neither bliss nor damnation.  It’s almost like it’s just a place where people work like a job.”

Catra boredly replied, “Great, so the afterlife is more of the same?  Remind me not to die.”

Adora kept reflecting on the experiences, “The thing is, I don’t know that I really experienced it.  The way they were talking, it was like I was just in the introductory part of their operation.”

Catra’s look hardened, which made Adora return the tension rising expression.  

Catra broke the silence, “So that’s all you have on your mind right now?”

Adora tilted her head, “What else should be on my mind, Force Captain?”

Catra leaned towards Adora, her sorrow breaking through, “How about how you felt miserable about leaving me behind! ”

Adora righted her head, an edge coming to her voice, “Catra, you know you were on my mind.  I had to come back to you.”

Catra showed her teeth, hip leaving the table while she pointed at herself, “So why don’t you tell me that instead of retreating into protocol and filling up your schedule like you’re doing.”

Adora settled back into her chair, her edge turning to a soft boil, “This is about the edict again.”

“You’re damn right it’s about the fucking edict again!” Catra shouted, “You were literally dead and all that brought you back to us according to your report was an unfinished mission??”

Adora braced her hands on the table, her voice rising again, “If I put the real reason down we both would be pushed out of the service!”

Catra sneered her throat widened shouting back, “Then fine !  Let’s do it!  Let’s leave this stupid conflict behind and just find somewhere where we can be together !”

Adora rose up, hands still on the table wide, “ Where is that Catra?  What corner of Etheria isn’t within the Horde’s sights!?”  She counted reasons on her fingers, “The general of the army is a public figure, I’ve given speeches to thousands.  There are portraits of me at outposts across Etheria!  I’ve promoted seven force captains into service below me, formed seventy two battalions.  I have signed off on twenty five edicts next to Hordak’s name.  That’s not someone who can disappear Catra!  Think realistically!”

Catra came up to lean on the table matching Adora’s posture, “Jungle outposts burn out within a season. The Crimson Wastes are too wild for the Horde to bother controlling. The South Pole?  Nobody gives a damn about the South Pole!”  She gestured wide, pleading “Fuck’s sake let’s take one of the ruined ships from the Velvet Glove and leave the damn planet!”

Adora stood upright and folded her arms, “So what are we going to do for food?  Shelter?  What are we going to do about half the army relentlessly pursuing us to make an example of deserters on this little fantasy quest you have planned out!”

Catra bared her teeth and pulled on her wild hair, “I don’t know we’ll figure something out.  Just…” her voice faltered, changing to beg her in a cracked tone, “Just stay with me!  As long as we’re together we can just figure the rest out.”

Adora watched her partner, the slightest shake of her head coming from her.  Catra’s expression deeply darkened into a scowl noticing Adora’s rejection.  She let her fury boil over, furiously swiping her claws across Adora’s desk.  Papers burst into ribbons with her catharsis.  She shouted, “I hope you fucking choke on all this paperwork!”

Adora tightened her folded arms, “Your behavior is unbecoming of someone of your rank, Force Captain, Catra.”  

Catra’s face opened, her eyes wide, the formal title striking her like a slap.  Her chest heaved, clearly wanting to strike Adora back in revenge.  She looked her over but all she saw was a soldier buried under layers of duty.  

The blonde let her shoulders sag pleading against her partner’s outburst, “Catra… we are in a position to do more from within the system than if we ran into the woods.  We can’t run away from our problems.  All the other people in the Horde need us to do this for them, we aren’t the only ones suffering.”

Catra’s fierce glare didn’t falter; she shouted back, “Maybe the problem will just go away if you wait long enough to do something about it.”

Finally Catra’s expression fell from sour to hurt.  She backed up from Adora.  Adora’s throat went dry, eyes widening, something about Catra’s expression was so vividly- hauntingly familiar.  

The smoke swallowed Catra, the smell of burning tank, blood and fresh cauterized earth caught her nose now that she was in the crater that formed around her when she used her new powers.  Adora’s chest and throat burned with the pain and disappointment in herself to navigate Catra back to her side.  She felt the sweat from her brow, the burning of her new wounds from the fight, the tingle of the horde stun stick still working its way out of her extremities and the smell of burnt fuel and metal causing a haze of smoke that cloaked Catra as she left to report to Shadow Weaver and the rest of the Horde–... ?

 

What?  No.  They were both with the Horde.  Catra just left through the tent flap.  Adora was alone now.

 

Her blue eyes drifted to the shreds of paper that she would now have to organize and fill out again.  One of the scraps held their names, now separated by a visceral gash.  She closed her eyes knowing it was true, there were things at work bigger than either one of them.  If she wanted to have Catra back, she would need to stick to the loyalty she had to what was right, not who was right.  

 

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l9aNdxAhgUE

 

Catra marched from the tent fists balled at her sides.  The Horde camp sprawled across the rugged terrain, a labyrinth of makeshift structures and armored vehicles.  The acrid scent of burning fuel mingled with the metallic tang of sweat and fear, permeating the air.  Tattered banners bearing the Horde insignia flapped in the harsh wind, casting ominous shadows over rows of barracks and storage tents.  Soldiers clad in drab uniforms moved with purposeful urgency, their footsteps echoing on the hard-packed earth.  Several Horde war machines were parked nearby that Catra moved past, her mind filled with the awful conversation she just had.  She almost ran right into one of their ‘reconfigs’ exiting a prisoner cart.  

Scorpia towered over Catra a wild menace in her expression.  The jagged black mark on her face that vaguely looked like a dragon wept a trail of smoke in the air even with her slightest movements.  Catra flinched, crunching her brows at the coppery scent of spilled blood wafting into her sensitive nose.  She looked down the woman’s neck to her broad shoulders, where her spiky red carapace had been filed long ago into deadly spines.  Below her shoulders bulged thick biceps that changed to wicked pointed claws where her forearms and hands would have been.  One drizzled blood spotting on the floor next to her military boots.  

The things that came from the horde’s GeneShift machines always made her uneasy.  She felt her fur rise against her clothing instinctively.  Her tail swished low behind her.  It was sometimes a flip of the coin if they were going to follow command or not.  

Scorpia’s low and gravelly voice explained, “Prisoner attacked me when I brought her food.”

Catra arched a brow, she didn’t ask or care really.  The strange voluntary explanation of the blood did make her suspicious though.  She said, “As you were, soldier.” prompting Scorpia to turn and continue on.  Catra noticed that she had left the door open to the cart.  She rolled her eyes in annoyance and decided to at least check to see if the prisoner inside was dead or not.  

She ascended the short stairs and looked in.  The room was mostly empty, a sleeping mat on one side, a low stool on the other with little else to see.  Light shone in through the barred windows on a crumpled figure with extremely long purple hair.  A puddle of blood was forming from Entrapta’s face.  Catra reflexively sneered at her sight, she was almost disappointed that she could see the woman’s shoulder rise and fall with struggling breath.  Nearby was a tray that had grey mashed potato rations slowly gliding down its surface.  

“Gonna live?” Catra called out to her.

She groaned, croaking out, “Lost a cuspid… probably some damage to the first molar… ”

Catra took a few paces to her, then squatted down in front of Entrapta roughly snatching the side of her loose white and purple hair.  She made her look her in the eye announcing, “You’re gonna wish you weren't.”

With that she sent Entrapta’s face into the grimy floor of the wagon.  Her voice barked, “You shot her!! ”  She sent a kick firmly into her pelvis causing a sharp noise of a word that could only be made by raw pain. The ground at the woman’s head now had an aerosol spray of the blood that had pooled in her mouth.  

Catra wasn’t done, she kicked savagely with each word sending Entrapta into a twisting, shrieking, spasm, “You. Shot. A. Bound. Prisoner!”

A wet, deep cough came from Entrapta as blood and breath quickly wheezed from her mouth.  

Catra broke off her assault knowing that if she didn’t switch from kicks she’d kill the princess right here and now, and where was the suffering in that?  She talked as she paced back and forth, “And for what?  Because you were sad that your mommy and daddy died!”

Through the pain, raw anger flared across Entrapta’s face; she pushed herself up against the mocking trite explanation of what her parents went through.  Seeing the defiance, Catra took a knee and punched solidly against Entrapta’s temple, collapsing her again.  

Catra seethed at the burst of noise Entrapta made and brutally punched the woman in the corner again and again until her arm ached.  

Panting, Catra stood, wiping her brow from sweat, replacing it with blood.  She hissed, “You’re going to suffer, that’s a promise.”

The girl turned, tail flicking as she started to leave but paused when she heard Entrapta dare to make a noise again.  She still hadn’t learned.  Catra was closing the distance again.  Entrapta put out a trembling hand in her direction, a miserable wince on her features, she was saying, “Run!”

Catra plucked her up by her now bloody hair, her white fangs pierced the darkness threatening, “Run?  From you!?  Don’t make me laugh.”

Entrapta’s swollen features winced, when no violence came, she huffed a breath trying to make her voice work, “They’re… gonna get it from me.”

Catra shook her, causing more words to tumble out quickly, “Ares!… they’re-...”

Catra threatened, “Make. Sense.”

Entrapta’s one eye drifted, fighting the concussion, “I have-... Secrets… They’re gonna.”  She licked her bloody lips, “They’re gonna get it all.”  Entrapta whimpered, tears coming to her eyes, “-’s… gonna be so bad… run…”  She struggled, begging, “Get away…”

Something drifted across Catra’s features… wanting to run.  She discarded her back to her heap.  She rose to her height, tail still lashing with anger.  Catra opened her mouth to drive the final nail in, but something washed across her mind.  The last time she saw Entrapta even close to this state was when she had just jabbed the stun baton into her back.  Her surprised warbled shriek still echoed in Catra’s ears.  She was on the ground now, helpless.  Witness.  There were witnesses.  The underling she picked up in the Crimson Wastes was staring at her in slack-jawed shock.  The scrape of chitton behind her reminded her that Scorpia was there.  

“Get her out of here!” Catra was shouting more than she was ordering.

“What do you want me to do with her?” the blanched underling asked.  

Catra’s mind was racing, fabricating what she was going to do now that she betrayed the scientist, “I don’t know!  Put her on the transport to-...  to Beast Island!”

Shame rose in her chest.  She knew that Entrapta was completely trusting of her, but still she had ordered for her a fate worse than death.  As suddenly as it nestled into her mind, the vision welcomely faded.  Her expression changed a few times trying to figure out what had caused the strange fantasy.  

 

That never happened, if it did, it didn’t happen to Catra.  

 

Whatever the strange moment was, it all happened in less than an instant.  A chill clutched her, the vision stubbornly remaining.  She shook her head, tail lashing still.  She looked at her sore, blood covered hand remembering what she was doing.  She looked down her nose at Entrapta’s weakly protecting hand.  

Catra simply said, “Pathaetic.” and turned, leaving the broken mess of Entrapta behind. 

Chapter 8: O̸̫͓͌h̷̘̭͌̍,̶͍̘́͂ ̷̳͝m̴̩͎̈̕y̶͇͆̉ ̸̤̇̋s̴̳̈́w̴̰̉͠ȇ̷͓̱e̸̽͌ͅt̸̯͌̍ ̷̧͉̐̿d̴̲͚̏ȧ̵͓͙ů̸̯͕̏g̷̗͎̋h̵̤͗t̸̖͋e̶͙̊̅r̴̨̯̔ ̵̢͍͒̍ŏ̷̜̀ḟ̷̛̳ ̷̤̾̍L̴̼̓y̸̳̅̈́t̴̜̙́͠e̵̟͗

Summary:

==Reality error continues==

Alyn finds that the ritual was a success and finds a relic.

We visit Orion and Frosta finding hints of something strange happening in the afterlife.

They go to see Alyn

Alyn escapes death.

https://youtu.be/jF8KSy7OBwA?si=QtdgfGpryhWleGw4&t=80

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                                                               Jji                                             σ

 

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So, Sh-                     She wasn’t there anymore.                   nn                    .                fel   lt                  qjxz

 

         jz                                      and Alyn was on the floor of the spell circle room desserp into one of the conrers.  She couldn’t remember what happened.  She shifted and brought a hand to her smooth copper mask.  

≡≡≡≡≡

░▓░░ found herself looking at the ▬ slab in the spell ○ room from the floor.  It was A⥕yn who was there.  She ⥕ifted a hand to her face, the warm copper slid along her fingertips.  She had drained some of her rotten blood on the floor 

 

She was laying on                                             wet on her left side.  She must have       laying there for quite some time.  The noxious concoction that served as her blood had spilled from behind her mask into a pool on the ground.  

 

It was on her left.  

 

Disorientation.  It was expected when dealing with reality itself being reworked.  

 

She shifted to a sitting position considering the blank slab that the girl once laid on… at least she thought she got that far.  An outline of blood was there.  She told her body to move quickly.  She called out, “Elenor… did you maintain data lock?”

A line of green text silently ran across the screen on one of the six monitors, “Recording has no fragmentation.  New file 22.3 Gb.  Press any key to review.”

Alyn studied the pile of ashes left behind on the ritual circle.  Was that there just now?  Wasn’t it blood?

The ritual must have been a success otherwise there would be blood here.  Her fingers scooped the ashes into the container she suddenly found in her hands.  She paused as a computer voice began speaking audibly, “Chronicler soul triggered automatic recording of procedure.  Would you like to review?”

Alyn’s speaker piped up, “Elenor… I didn’t program you to speak.”

The program clattered the hard drive thrashing the heads back and forth as it tried to make sense of the statement.  Alyn kept working on adding the pile of ash to her container but paused when she brushed something solid inside.  

Her fingers produced a dark-as-night object, she shook the soot from it causing a clean peal from the object.  

 

Alyn beheld the bell.  

 

It was no bigger than the palm of her hand.  A strange primal unease rose from her chest studying the object.  The bell was the deepest dark that she had ever seen.  In the smallest half centimeter, light itself bent as though it was encountering the event horizon of a black hole.  Flitting across its surface was green clutched copper, twisting into familiar runes that coalesced into a chain wound solid tight at its crown.  The handle jutted from there, made rigidly of more of the tightly wound chain.  Alyn brought the object closer catching the softest green shine from deep within etchings on each link.  Her careful study revealed that they were firing in the subtlest chase sequence that ran back down into the waist of the bell.  A sequence she couldn't mistake for anything else, it matched her beta Halo that she was permanently bonded to.

Alyn searched her mind wondering just when this came into being.  She sucked in a breath in shock, like the snap of a clipboard, her mind spilled to her the wracking moments of being before a being of immense power.  She shrieked with her throat making a nasal, wet, bleating noise.  Panting, she found herself huddled over her knees on the ground the next thing she knew.  

… panting?  Breathing?   She realized something was terribly wrong.  

She turned her mask to the computer, asking, “Elenor… What soul type is Alyndrah Nulvis?”

 

The platters of the computer rattled back and forth loudly.  Finally the robotic voice reported “… Inconclusive.”

She slowly got to her feet, then drew closer to the computer clutching the bell.  The cracked speaker behind her mask commanded, “Begin review of last recording… I want to know what happened in this room.”

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X15PAb9M6VA

Orion sat in the mostly empty room.  The fireplace to his left crackled and popped softly warming half his body.  Before him was the low table with the black tea set.  Across from him was the empty chair that would normally hold a student.  The afterlife for him was enjoyable, one at a time a student would enter, he would teach them everything that he knew the afterlife was and then when they were trained, he would move on to the next one.  Being a soul now, he could do many of these things linearly or many at once should he choose.  Right now was a quiet moment for him, he ran his fingers along the edge of his simple cylinder-shaped tea set, his gaze fixed on the liquid within.  In a blink, its color shifted from regal black to plain white, the copper accents unchanged.  It was a novel experience for him, encountering something new after traversing the edges of time since his passing.  Everything that had unfolded was predetermined, set in motion from the very beginning.  But this was different.

He continued to scrutinize the fluid, never before questioning its nature.  He had always assumed it was tea; what else would a tea set contain? But now...

"Yep, still tea," Frosta's voice broke the moment, her tone playful despite the eerie sound of her voice.

Orion looked up, a half-smile gracing his weathered features.  "Good to see you too, Frosta.  Please, take a seat."

Frosta hovered in his field of vision but made no move to sit.  "I...  encountered a challenging situation, teacher."

Orion thought for sure he knew what her question would be related to but gestured with the teacup, "Go ahead."

Frosta explained, “I found a soul that was bound to me, she needed to pass to this side.  When she resisted death I offered to have her see a consultant, Doctor Nulvis.”

Orion nodded, “Alyn has done some good work fixing soul forms.”

Frosta continued, “Doctor Nulvis said that it was possible for the soul to return to the living.”

Orion was less pleased at that, “Well that would be a lie.  I’ll see what-

Frosta cut him off, gesturing to the tea set, “I’m not so sure it was… There are things that I am noticing that are different now.  The way she explained the return, these things would start to happen and we would be compelled to ignore them.”

The man pursed his lips, “Well then… Perhaps we should see exactly what Doctor Nulvis has done.”

Frosta nodded as Orion rose up and started out of the tea room.  

 

Alyn’s blank mask reflected the screen back at her, offering a distorted window into the unfolding nightmare.  It was perhaps the only barrier keeping her mind from plunging into the abyss of madness.  Her meticulously crafted mask acted as a conduit, translating the incomprehensible images on the screen directly to her consciousness, sparing her eyes from the grotesque spectacle.  

The review started just like any other, Adora and she were situating themselves for the ritual to return her back to the living plane.  The screen had flickered a black screen and it was around then that she realized that she was compelled to continue watching what was happening, her body was not her own to control.  Her mask reported that impossible shapes were being displayed on the front of the tube screen causing parts of the glass to warp creating a strange black starfield that twisted the images even further.  The computer’s processing tubes began to hum turning white hot, a few redundant ones shattered with the playback, and still it unfolded.  The limited capabilities of the speakers thrashed back and forth cracking cones as they played the alien sound of the encounter.  Her new breath sped in and out wetly through her ruined throat.  Her hand suddenly was under her control and it pounded frantically on the table until a fingertip found the pause key.  The instant it was struck, she wretched back from the station as though suddenly released from a physical hold.  Her speaker howled in chorus with her horrific real voice.  

She landed hard on the ground in a frenzy, clawing at the copper mask and would have torn it free if it hadn’t been bolted to her face, her nails broke against the unforgiving surface.  The next thing she knew she was on the floor breathing as fast as she could slowly starting to find artifacts of memory in her mind.  Cold terror shocked her still, something primordial, as old as time itself had been here.  The ritual had brought it.  She had spoken with it… no she had made noises compared to actually communicating … like it had…  it had… 

 

It had chosen her.

 

Her free will had come with purpose new.  

 

She had to deliver the conduit.  

 

The bell would be her tool.  

There were more people here now.  A man and a creature with a face as wounded as her own.  She drew up her body under her again.  They were asking her things, if she was all right, why the computer screen looked the way it did, what she had done with Adora.  All of it was meaningless.  How could their tiny eternities compare to what needed to be done now?  Their only tool was time, she had… Choice.

 

“You were screaming.” Orion was talking.  He held her shoulders, “Ancients Alyn, I hadn’t heard anyone sound like that before.  Are you okay?”

Her speaker crackled, “Witnesses… yes… I suppose there should be witnesses to what shall unfold.”

Frosta was looking at the rippled glass on the computer screen, the impossible image being projected against it.  She looked back at the doctor, “Stars… What have you done?”

Alyn’s halo hair band used her blonde ponytail to lift her to her feet.  Her arms dangled at her sides, her feet barely touching the floor.  Her speaker warbled, “Ancient stars indeed.”

Orion drew back from her getting to his own feet.  Alyn’s hand moved with an unnatural fluidity into her pocket, the faint twinkling noise of the bell inside echoed  through the room.  The sound wasn’t right—it was too loud, too overwhelming, like the toll of some far-off, forgotten horror.  All other noise was swallowed by it.

Frosta asked, “What the fuck was that?”

Her mask pitched to Orion, his face filling with fear.  “Teacher” she called to him, “Why do we not traverse to the time before life?”

Orion glanced at Frosta nervously replying, “B-...  because there is nothing before the time that life began.  There’s no reason to go there.”

Alyn parsed, “So none have spent any time trying… save for the writer of the Lexicon.”

Orion protested, “Yes! And look what happened to her, her soul is lost.”

Alyn gestured to the computer, “Her tether was weak, wound in flesh and thought.  Mine was steel and symbol… and I am returned .”

Frosta’s patience snapped.  She moved her hand toward the display, shattering the glass with a violent surge of magic.  Icy crystals formed around her grey hand as she advanced on Alyn, her voice low and threatening.  “I don’t care where you’ve been, here’s what’s going to happen: You’re going to undo what you did and bring Adora back here.”

Alyn’s hand flicked, suddenly a glowing green laser scalpel appearing in it.  She replied, “Even if I attempted it, the transplant of time from there to here is complete.  We can no more separate it from the host than we could a successful heart transplant.  Not to fear though, the conduit will not last on the mortal realm!”

Frosta swept her hand Alyn’s direction, crackling ice followed her gesture.  It pierced all over the doctor’s body instantly causing spatters of crimson black blood to form on her white lab coat.  Alyn knew it hurt, her lungs grunted out a noise.  

Alyn’s feet touched the floor, her yellow hair snapping like a whip, forming a barrier against Frosta’s second sweep of magic.  In a blink, Alyn was suddenly beside Frosta, close enough that she could smell the cold musty scent of ancient power Alyn held.  Before Frosta could react, Alyn drove the scalpel into the center of her shoulder, the blade slicing through muscle and sinew with surgical precision.  Frosta staggered back, clutching at the wound, but Alyn wasn’t finished.

 With a movement so delicate it was almost a caress, Alyn brushed her knuckles against Frosta’s chest.  The touch was deceptively gentle, it sent Frosta flying backward, her body slamming into the wall with bone-shattering force.  The sound of the impact echoed in the suddenly silent room, a reminder of the raw, unnatural power Alyn now wielded.

https://youtu.be/LMr7ZMHuyf8?si=fNTckjpGw-d4ZmmU&t=138

 

“You pawns,” Alyn’s speaker crackled with chilling disdain watching Frosta struggle to get to her hands and knees, “You cling blindly to your tethers of security, content to shepherd souls from one realm to another without ever questioning your own fate.”  

Her neck twisted her face in Orion's direction.  Her indifferent copper mask gleamed with malevolence, “You cower in fear of the void before life, too afraid to gaze into the abyss.  But I dared.  And now I stand before you, wielding the fruits of my curiosity.”

With a sinister flourish, her hand retrieved the bell from her pocket.  Orion's feeble protest was again impossibly drowned out by its somehow deafening twinkle chime, “I have shattered the shackles of my imprisonment, no longer content to dance to fate's tune.  Now, I forge my own path!"

She menacingly gripped the small object high, its delicate ringing distorted deeper and deeper.  Only Alyn’s booming voice could be heard now over the thundering clock tower chime its tones it now made, “Bare witness you pitiful mewing remnants of energy, while I defy fate itself!  I now demand my whim into existence!  I demand that I return to life, as a harbinger of vengeance upon whom wrought my wrongful death!”

Her soul-form’s outline shimmered and in an instant she was pulled up and into the artifact and even that was no more.  Finally Orion could hear his voice shrieking to her, “Alyn!” Only the hissing silence of the ritual chamber answered.  

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ccJGWmmDC0

 

Dayle’s stomach growled.  She huffed and gave in to the temptation to take her second bite of Flavor bar.  Despite the outside packaging declaring it to be “Baked cheesy garlic bread”, she knew what she was eating had nothing to do with bread of any kind.  It was her calorie intake for the day so she had to make it count.  Tension was high, she could tell from the way her commanding officer was eyeing everyone over when there was suspicion of someone taking two bars instead of one for the day.  That was hours ago but it still made her sigh to try and relieve the tension.  She muttered to herself, “It wasn’t always like this… ”  The guard was already spread thin, her partner was on the other side of the massive carved out level where projects went to die.  

Her footsteps echoed in the warehouse.  She passed by several large cubicles that held various collections of scrapped projects.  All the while she was steadily moving towards a T-juncture.  Her flashlight swept along the ground.  The doorway at the end was floor to ceiling glass.  She saw her own walking reflection in the black mirror.  A steady flashing purple light nestled against the handle silently assured her that the lock was active.  Boredly, she grew closer, swallowing the crumbs of the bar left in her mouth.  It was part of her patrol, she had done it five times this morning already, but for some reason the lock silently switched from pulsing purple to solid green.  She gave a huff through her nose, curious at why that might have happened.  She patted herself down, Jerry might’ve snuck a proximity card on her as a joke but she was cardless.  

“Very funny Jerry!” she called to the huge chamber.  

Somewhere, distantly, Jerry answered, “What?”

Dayle reached out for the clipboard identifying what was in the room, “Room 752!  It just unlocked!”  she flipped the page, “You know that creepy one at the end of the hallway in sector 5!  Looks like it’s storing projects Zephyr, Solaris, Heaven and EchoSphere.”

Jerry’s voice was still distant, “Yeah it opened on me too earlier, just slam the door closed!”

It was only then that Dayle caught something in the dark, the room had a dim green shine that was flashing on the wall.  She shouted to Jerry, “Damnit!  I think something’s on in there.  I’m gonna check it out!”

The smell inside was of rank water, rot and a slight twist of fruit made her retch.  She managed to keep her stomach only with the thought that the calories wasted with throwing up wouldn’t be replaced for quite some time.  She called to Jerry outside the room, “Fuck you man!  How much time did you waste finding the worst smelling room here to make me go in and check?”

Jerry answered something but Dayle's gaze was fixated on a strand of long blonde hair highlighted in the steady green flashes of project Heaven.  She shivered as she realized that despite there being no wind it curled and uncurled, almost as though it was beckoning her.  Memories surged forth, memories of the enigmatic figure who had once been involved in this project, memories tainted with the horrors of a botched execution and the primal howls of Dryl’s princess.  Could it be her hair? The thought lingered, casting a shadow of doubt and dread across her mind.

Suddenly, an overwhelming force surged through Dayle's consciousness, crashing like a tidal wave against her will.  Alyn's presence invaded her thoughts with an iron grip, seizing control of her body with relentless determination.  Despite Dayle's attempts to resist, her limbs moved of their own accord, instinctively drawn to the buttons and controls of project Heaven.  Panic welled within her, her voice silenced by an unseen force as she watched helplessly, trapped within her own mind.

Silent strobe flashes erupted silently behind her, casting erratic shadows that danced across the walls.  The sensation of another presence in the room sent a chill down Dayle's spine, her senses tingled with apprehension.  Then, amidst the disorienting chaos, a faint jangle of a small bell echoed through the air.  Despite the innocent origin, it seemed to reek of malevolence.

With each passing second, the thrumming of the machine grew louder, drowning out the sound of Dayle's racing heartbeat.  She began to turn around, her movements agonizingly slow, her mind racing with unanswered questions and mounting fear.  But before she could fully comprehend the gravity of the situation, her gaze met the chilling visage of an indifferent copper mask-

 

And then, in an instant, everything went dark.

Chapter 9: Jon's Dog at Jane's Wedding

Summary:

Angella returns from the dead?

Orion arrives to explain things

 

It was strange, being something again.  It was even stranger to be a body that she commanded again..  She felt the ground come to her feet landing delicately on the pavement.  She knew that she was looking up at the moonstone, it looked the same and yet felt so different.  She heard shouting, scuffling.  She turned from the locus of her power to see that strangely dressed men were rushing to her not to fight, but to fall at her feet wailing.  

They shouted over each other - 

“She is returned!”

“Glory to the ancients!”

“Miracle!”

“What sign is this?”

“Teacher! Prophet!”

Before she took on the burden of holding the portal closed, she was queen.  It wasn’t completely out of place for people to do this; however usually they weren’t weeping and trembling.  

Angella asked, “How is this possible?  Where is Adora?”

One stood before them all and called to them, “She seeks the prisoner we released!  This truly is a sign that we are saved!  The divines have sent us the legendary She-Ra to fight righteously against the evil Horde.  This could be none other, she flies, glows, and has conquered death itself to stand before us!  Her divine wrath will smite the evil in the shape of our dead queen!  Glory!”

Her hand came to take the man’s shoulder, steadying him from speaking more.  She sternly asked, “Where am I?”

“Brightmoon.” said the man, “The last bastion of freedom in all of Etheria.”

Angella looked out over the rolling city from the platform that the moonstone hovered above.  While it did hold delicate, high archways, it held more of them than she ever ordered constructed in her time.  Hundreds of districts unfolded before her, she started to piece together a terrible thought that this might be thousands of years after she took on the burden of holding the realm from collapse.  

She asked again, “How is this possible?  Why isn’t reality folding in on itself with me here?”

The strange men looked among each other, clearly unsure how to answer.  

She demanded, “If I am here, that means that reality is about to unwind everywhere .  I need to speak with whomever is in charge.”

The men looked to each other, then the announcer responded, “That would be Queen Glimmer and King Bow.  Unless you mean to rise to the throne again?”

 

Later

As Angella was escorted through the city the more she understood that this wasn’t the Brightmoon that she left, nor was it the Brightmoon of the unstable pocket dimension.  Pale marble and opal were the decorations, purple and pink banners accented the vaulted ceilings.  The designs were so familiar, however each engraving, each stroke of the brush, each artwork was done by someone else’s hand despite the subjects being the same.  As they walked towards the two story tall wooden doors of the throne room, Angella regarded her high guard Juliet.  Something about her was colder than before.  There were new scars on her face.  

Juliet confessed, “I’m… I’m sorry we lost you, my queen.”

Angella assured her, “You had nothing to do with it.  I did what I did to save us all.”

It made the woman’s brows crunch, “What do you mean?”

Angella returned the concerned look, “If not for me staying in the vortex, reality itself would have unwound.”

Juliet asked, “Vortex?”

Their conversation was cut short when the mighty doors of the throne room were parted before them revealing the heart of Brightmoon’s throne room.  It was a great room at least 30 feet high with banners gently swaying in the slight breeze.  Airy arches were on the north and south walls letting shafts of sunlight light the chamber.  At the end was a high arch that commanded a grand view of the distant pale green horizon high above any building.  Two beautiful thrones made of brass and white marble stood with symbols of the moonstone.  A man much older than Bow-...  no, it was Bow.  He was sitting on the king’s throne, a smile touched her lips, she always liked that boy.  Next to him was-...  was… 

Tears were instantly stinging her eyes.  Angella’s throat was tight as she loudly croaked, “Glimmer?” 

Her daughter gasped as Angella’s fast feet closed the distance as quickly as she could.  She faltered as she drew close.  Glimmer’s hair was solid pink instead of the beautiful intermixing of dark purple highlights.  Her eyes were aged, suspicious of her instead of the bright and warm that she held deep in her heart.  She wasn’t running towards her.  Instead, she was watching her almost suspiciously.  

Angella said, “You… you are Glimmer, right?”

Glimmer’s eyes danced over what she was seeing.  Her mother’s face was plain, as though time itself had rolled back to a beautiful pristine version of Angella.  Instead of the white streak that ran along her temples, this woman stood tall and rosy cheeked with a breath of lilac on her skin.  She remembered the legends of the afterlife, the gently arcing wings sealed her suspicions.  A mournful arc came to Glimmer’s brow, her lips curling up in a pained smile as she said, “You have wings, Mom.”

Juliet subtly touched her firearm instinctively.  

“Why wouldn’t I have wings?” asked Angella.

Glimmer let her smile grow more and more, she couldn’t contain herself anymore and closed the distance between them gripping her mother tightly as she could, “I suppose there would have to be changes if you were going to be the She-Ra.  It’s so good to see you again!”

Angella bewilderedly brought her arms up to hold this Glimmer, her wet eyes turning to Bow to say, “I’m… I’m not She-Ra.  Adora is.  You both know that.”

Glimmer loosened her grip and stepped back, “No… no you’re She-Ra!  You have to be, it fits the prophecies!  Don’t you remember?”  She recited, “‘In the darkest hour, a light shall descend, bringing the end of the conflict.  She will bear the strength to seal the rift, yet her presence will herald great change.  With strands of light and an angel’s strength, she will alter the fate of Etheria.’  The priests of the moonstone said it literally gave you back to us earlier today, and things couldn’t be more dire.  Your wings literally make you an angel!  The horde is swelling at the edge of the whispering woods.  We have a cease fire that will expire in days.  You are here to save us!  You are She-Ra!”

Angella shook her head, “I am not She-Ra.  I agreed to take on the burden of holding the vortex closed to keep everyone safe.  If I am here it means that reality might begin to unwind.”

Glimmer asked, “What are you talking about?  What vortex?”

Angella brought a hand to her forehead, “Adora said that Entrapta explained it all to her, where is she?  Can we send for her?”

Bow looked uncomfortably at Glimmer, then to Angella, “I think… we need to start over at the beginning, your majesty.”  

Nearby a man cleared his voice.  Nobody had seen him enter.  “I think,” he said, “that I might have some of the answers that you will need to unwind this terrible knot.”

To the side about ten feet away a man was there.  The three gears emblem of the city-states of Dryl was at his shoulder along with a lapel board filled with honor plaques.  He gave a sweeping bow, “I humbly request an audience.  I am the deceased Director Orion Starwatcher of Dryl.  Now tasked as ‘Teacher’ to spirits of the afterlife.  I come with the guide Frosta, whom I believe you’ve had a few encounters with.”

Next to him was the gloomy dark figure whose features were hidden behind a shadowy hood.  Despite this, it was apparent she no longer had the twisted wept flesh of her death.  Her dark hair hung from the front of the  hood in an intricate braid.  Her teenage body leaned on a new staff with glowing blue runes littered over its surface.  Small points of reflected light peered out from inside the hood.

Bow glanced at Glimmer, then Angella, both seemed determined.  He said, “You’re welcome to speak.”

Orion nodded, drawing closer, “We have had a most strange encounter with one of the souls of the afterlife.  One of our own, Alyndrah Nulvis, was supposed to be a consultant.  She has broken her station and we believe that she has returned to the land of the living.  Her last words to us were disturbing.  She said something about extracting vengeance on the one that murdered her.  Beyond that, we are at a loss.  We were drawn to this space because Frosta sensed something alien to this world being here.”  The old man’s grey eyes turned to Angella, “I can only presume this is it.”

Angella frowned, “I believe that is the case.  The last thing I remember is plucking a weapon of great power from a tear in reality that threatened to spread to all realities everywhere destroying time itself.  It was my understanding that doing this would mend the damage.  If I’m here… It must mean that time could begin to unravel again.”

Orion raised his brows, “What you say might be true.”  He looked to Frosta, “Would you like to tell her what Alyn described as a ‘procedure’?”

The specter's voice crackled, shaped by the frigid ice forming over and over in her throat, “She spoke nonsense, but described it basically as using another reality’s time to override something that had concluded in this time already.  From what you’re describing, ma’am, it’s possible that the borrowed time unlocked you from it to become a champion to defend itself.”

Orion could only shrug, “It’s as good a theory as any right now.  Can you tell us anything else about your time?”

Angella frowned, “I am unsure where to begin.  It is decidedly different from here, there are so many similar things, yet so many…” She let herself look at Glimmer again, “Differences.”  She looked back to Orion, “I can also tell you that the rebellion was slowly gaining momentum.  We discovered the legendary She-Ra, she was a defector of the Horde named Adora.”

Bow raised his brows, “ Adora was a defector in your reality?”

Angella nodded, “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.  Where is she?  She is She-Ra, not me.”

Glimmer looked to Bow, then back to Angella, “Oh Mom… She… she can’t be She-Ra.  She just can’t!  She-Ra is supposed to help us!”

Bow rose from his chair just under Angella’s height, “Your Majesty… Adora is Vice General second to Hordak Himself.  She leads the Horde’s army.  If she is this world’s She-Ra… it means there was never any hope of winning this.”

Chapter 10: Homecoming

Summary:

Apologies for missing two weeks worth of posts, will catch up soon.

Alyn visits Eclypse Labs, her home office in Dryl
She gets caught up with events.
Confronts the bell
Defects to the Horde
integrates herself with director Riven.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H-0lKu5PYS0

Her gleaming mask tilted as Alyn surveyed the abandoned building.  Memories flooded her mind, recalling when Eclypse Labs was pristine, the cutting edge of technology, and on the fast track to its position on the board of directors.  Back then, it was everything she wanted to be visible to Entrapta.  Surely, being the leader of a corporation on the board of directors would have made her stand out to the purple-haired princess.  Surely.

Alyn stepped through the shattered door, her flat black shoes crunching on the glass littered across the floor, entering the office space now riddled with nature’s clutch of loam, and grime.  From that space, she moved up the few stairs to her office.  She had it specifically made this way so that she could overlook the people who wanted to make Dryl a medical powerhouse.  Now it only overlooked the black mold crusted cubicles.  Inside her office were the two chairs where they had their final conversation.  She paused there, drawing her thumb along the back of the chair that Entrapta had sat in on that fateful day.  Her mask turned to regard the overturned table.  She tried to remember the fugue state she was in when she destroyed the place.  It was all so jumbled towards the end.

 

… Entrapta has something planned, she won’t let this happen, I’m a doctor, I help people… 

 

Alyn drew closer to the computer desk.  Effortlessly, she righted the desk with her ponytail and spent the next few moments reassembling the pieces of her old console.  She spoke to herself as the machine warmed up, “And just what has Dryl been doing while I was indisposed?” The computer clacked its platters, hummed its fans, and finally displayed the operating system.

Her fingers flashed along the keys and, after a few soft knocks, it brought up thirty bricks of various red ‘canceled’ and ‘retired’ statuses.  Her mask tilted subtly when she found a green one: ‘Pyroarc’.  Its icon ejected an elaborate tree of versions, the bottom one being ‘mark 5c’.

Alyn switched the focus back to the main menu.  When what she was looking for wasn’t there, she dashed her fingers along a search field, looking for ‘Aries’.  When the search returned ‘No results’, Alyn patted the screen.  She lamented, “Well, at least that’s something.”  She sat her rear on an overturned bookshelf that just happened to be positioned nicely to be a chair.  She brought up her hand to touch her mask’s lips tracing a small circle there.  

Her hands reached out to make a new query: ‘Location of Director Entrapta’

The system returned with a readout, ‘Unable to determine.  Princess Entrapta Phyllipina Nyland is no longer a citizen of Dryl.’

Alyn tilted her head, “Now why would that be?” 

She flashed her question into the computer, ‘Explain events surrounding Entrapta’s citizenship.’

It clicked and softly clacked its platters before typing out: 

 

Director Warren raised issue of broken contracts with Hierophant Alliance due to Entrapta’s violent outburst against prisoner in their custody.  Director Evelyn made a motion to enact exile after deliberation.  

Directors votes as follows:

• Warren Granite: Yea
• Chronos Manufacturing: Vacant / Disallowed due to issue raised against the head of the company.
• Evelyn Radiant: Motion raised, no vote
• Austin Verdant: Yea
• Isabella Skyward: Yea
• Aquylla Torrent: Absent during meeting, post-meeting vote of Yea
• Flora Ironbark: Yea
• Archer Starwatcher: Abstain
• Elara Timberheart: Yea
• Eclypse Labs Chair: Vacant

Motion carried.  Transmission of decree to be made via Entrapt-net message to King Bow of Brightmoon, paid passage through Horde firewall network approved.

Would you like to review meeting notes? ▒

 

The cursor flashed at the end of the document.  Alyn kept circling the lower lip of her mask while she read the results.  She brought her fingers to touch the slot next to Eclypse Labs, activating the chance to enter in a vote.  She knew that it was a closed session, the vote really wouldn’t mean anything given the standing of the directors.  It wouldn’t even be brought up to anyone that a change had been made.  Still… It was a chance to send a message to anyone looking into the case.  Her fingers flashed in: 

 

• Eclypse Labs Chair: Pending Review.▒

 

Alyn sat back from her modification, the bookcase popped softly, complaining about its use as a chair.  Her snake-like hair lifted her from the seat and set her back down again, her low black shoes crunching softly on some of the scattered debris.  She stared at the screen for a long moment, her fingers circling the lip of her mask, the weight of her discovery settling in her mind.

But her thoughts drifted from the cold facts of the screen.  Numbers, votes, decisions—it was all noise.  No, what she sought now was beyond these trivial machinations of Dryl's bureaucracy.  Something far more profound demanded her attention.  It was time.  She produced the black bell, letting it rest in the palm of her hand.  

She looked at the artifact, her mask feeding her raw data about what was in front of her.  As expected even simple things that were concrete about it began to drift, starting at 11 centimeters quickly re-evaluated to 11.116, then 10, then the units changed to frog eggs until it ultimately stopped being about numbers at all.  

Panic quietly settled in her mind, she tucked the bell away.  She turned the mask in the direction of her broken oval windows looking out on some trees.  The information took a moment to re-establish the proper wind speed and lumen level coming from that direction.  “What a curious caveat…” she said to herself.  Her fingers came back up to her mask to touch its lips in thought.  She carefully brought it out again.  The top of her head pitched slightly, noting that the lumen level coming from the bell was impossibly a negative number.  Not only would the sensor not be able to transmit that to her, it was clearly emanating light in its runes sequencing green.  Her other hand came out to touch the bell’s waist and the ability to read lumens dropped entirely.  She summoned bravery, her speaker already distorting her voice before crashing, “No… no you show me what you are for.” 

She steeled her resolve forcing herself to not look away this time.  She could feel the mask sensors going haywire.  Decibels, thermal vision, x-rays, geometry estimations, they were all systematically crashing one by one.  She could feel a familiar snare come to her neck muscles, the thing was gripping her attention, forcing her to watch.  She trembled then, not in fear, but determination grabbing right back at the force.  This thing was attempting to shake her, but she wouldn’t cower, not when she had given so much up for this one chance to enact what needed to be done.  She saw-... felt, her hand twisting into ribbons, the sear of pain as her flesh began to bubble as though carbonated.  Her wet throat grunted rising to meet the pain.  It was trying to master her, she wouldn’t let it.  What was left of her tongue used the gift of breath to form grotesquely, “No… you… Mine.”  She willed her ribboned hand to clutch the bell that was now anchored in space.  She shrieked a horrible gurgled noise wrapping her very essence around controlling what this was, digging what might have been nails at one point into its form.  She needed to master this object, she needed to know what it did, for revenge, for justice.  She felt even more of her grip on reality shattering in response and still her creed of purpose would not bend, mustering everything she could to bear her to this gift bestowed by the omega level creature.  Then impossibly things were back to normal.  Her mask was hot she could tell, but it was simply sending information directly into her mind again.  

She felt the sweat on her neck and back, her limbs were quaking, all signs of distress.  Her ragged breath slowed, she coughed, telling the bell, “and that is what you are dealing with…” 

Instead of shying away, she kept watching the misbehaving inanimate object.  All the mask was doing now was functioning as basic eyes.  Still, she waited to see what it was doing, they were partners here and it had something to tell her in the dark.  Her breath gurgled through her ruined throat, the speaker was suddenly offline.  She clucked her wet throat, what was left of her tongue spat another noise.  Finally it came to her- 

 

‘Godwin’

 

entered her mind.  Alyn’s neck flexed.  ‘What a strange-’

 

‘Discover Godwin’

 

and just like that it was done letting her know.  The presence pressed into her mind that she could control the thing she brought back.  Once she was done here-... once Adora was done here helping her, she would return the chronicler soul puppet to the afterlife.  No-... to the thing before life.

Still she looked at the bell, almost in defiance of the direct messaging to her.  She lingered looking at the device until she could bear the lack of senses no longer.  She turned to look at the doorway, one of the only unbroken things in the office letting her mask turn back on sensor by sensor.  

She told the room, “Well if she is my piece in this game, I should get to know her more.”

With that she started her infiltration of the Horde.  She had a long ladder to climb.  

https://viewsync.net/watch?v=oN8q7p57nZw&t=0&v=H-0lKu5PYS0&t=0&mode=solo

((click left, then right video to prime them up, then click play at bottom to play both at once ublock origin to remove ads for free))

Later…

Alyn’s scalpel gashed across his carotid, His blood spattered on the plastic cased lanyard around her neck.  “Relax” her speaker crackled, “You will bleed out quickly, you only have a few options left.”  In an instant he lept at her, but she simply side stepped it, sending him into one of the benches that lined the wall of the prisoner transport.  She pondered how simple this all was for her.  Lie about wanting to defect from Dryl, observe, then start to leverage their insecurities against one another.  He was “attacking” again.  Her halo shoved her to the side, again he was swiping at air.  

She warned, “Your efforts are only increasing the amount of blood you’re losing.  Really, you should be considering letting shock take you into unconsciousness.  It’s a much easier passing.”  She let him grasp her coat, his hands leaving a bloody handprint along her sleeve.  His breath sucked in and out, his mouth gulping at air as he pulled her close with a violent expression rising to his features.  She knew how fruitless it was for him at this point.  She had already helped him to his death.  His weakening grip tightened around her own throat, coated in her noxious blood.  Unimpaired, her speaker in the mask continued, “You might be thinking right now that you’re going to die from a lack of blood to the brain.  A common misconception.”  His jaw undulated at her, gurgling suffering was his only language now.  She continued the lesson, “That’s actually the internal carotid, death is almost instantaneous if that was severed.  If I wanted that, I would have attacked you from behind.”  She pointed below her ear at the base of her skull, “This would have been the entry point.”  His weakening hands trembled, turning back to his own throat to try and stop the flowing crimson there.  His knees buckled.  Alyn noted, “There it is… the loss of blood pressure, the tingling in your fingers.”  

He pushed air over his vocal chords, blood burping from his mouth.  She added, “Then cerebral hypoxia now, nausea, blurred vision… and perhaps your last comfort… an overwhelming sense of warmth.”

As his eyes rolled up into his head in death she tilted her bloody mask to the side, “And yet again… it’s shock that takes you first.”

She raised her scalpel to her mask’s blank gaze.  She flicked its switch turning on the high powered laser at its edge, sterilizing it.  She then pocketed it again.  She pulled back from the dead man to inspect the body-littered prisoner transport she found herself in.  A thought struck her at that moment.  Spattered all along the walls around her and pooling at her feet was blood.  Bodies were sprawled around her in twisted ways.  They wobbled faintly with the transport’s corrective motion.  Wasn’t this all supposed to be hard for people to process?  People might spend years in therapy over taking even a single life.  Here there were five.  The thought simply moved along to the next, evaluating how brutal and brief the fight was.  Now she was the only one standing.  She pivoted on her flat black shoes and went to the doorway of the transport.  She squatted down to inspect the lock built by Dryl’s Chronos manufacturing.  She typed in the back door passcode and the light switched from purple to green.  When the door opened, the road blurred under her feet.  All she had to do was wait now until they drew close to the Fright Zone.  

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WyniOFK1YbQ

—

Brull scratched his forehead groaning.  He sat up dazed, pain shrieked through his limbs, he had been shot by Trace, he always knew that she resented him, but it was a complete shock that she’d actually shoot him over his promotion.  He looked at his grey boots, then his pants covered in blood.  This was all that damned prisoner’s fault.  He felt his gaping chest wound, he laughed in spite of himself, it must not be nearly as bad as it looked.  Why was he on the side of the road though?  His ‘friends’ must have tossed him away to cover Trace’s ass.  He looked around trying to figure out what to do next when he felt an unearthly chill in the air.  He turned in the direction of the disturbance to find that a new figure was there, resting on her staff.  The creature wore blue tattered fabrics.  Her crystalline voice called to him, “You are dead.  Come with me.”

“I’m not dead!” he protested.  

Frosta gave a bored sigh, drawing close, “Think, Brull, you don’t have a heart anymore, you’re not breathing, you have no pulse.  You are dead.  I am here to provide passage to a better place.”

The guard paled, “Oh no… No it can’t be true.”

The hooded figure shifted in a gesture not unlike rolling its eyes.  She anticipated all the usual questions and statements that they would always say, “Yes, yes.  It can’t be true.  Next you’ll say something like ‘I have too much to do yet’  Then, ‘what’s going to happen to my family?’  The answers are: Yes it is true.  We do not choose when our end comes, so you should have done those things when you had the chance.  Your family is going to continue their lives with good thoughts of you in their heart.  Anything else?”

Brull balked trying to think up more to ask.  “Can I see-”

Frosta cut him off, “No, you can’t see your collection of stuff or watch your child grow old.  You can decide to stay here but you’ll turn into a wraith at best and at worst you’ll become nothing.  Time is ticking, Brull.”  With that, she extended her hand.

The man gave a deep sigh.  Reaching back to her.  Once their hands clasped they found themselves in Orion’s tea room, dimly lit, fire flickering.  While Frosta floated towards Orion, Brull’s red boots carried him over to the teacher.  They drew close to the empty chair.  

The old man in his drab purple suit coat started to pour two cups of tea into his now white geometric teacups.  He began his opening speech, “Hello, Brull.  Welcome to the next chapter of your existence, a sanctuary for souls to find rest and clarity.  In this place, we-”

His eyes caught the man’s boots as he settled into the opposite chair.  He looked to Frosta, then to him, “Sir, I’m sorry, could you tell me how you died?”

Brull gave a heavy sigh, “Trace, I thought she was my friend.  She shot me.”

Orion rose from his chair.  His soulform peered into his ability to see time.  Visually, though, it looked as though he gestured into the air and conjured a book to look through.  He paged through it continuing to probe, “That’s not what I mean, there was someone nearby, did you get a good look at them?”

Brull’s expression shifted, “Just the people who I thought were my teammates, and our prisoner.  That damn doctor-” Brull spat, blood speckling his chin, “She just—said it. Like she knew exactly what to say to get Trace to snap.  Like she wanted her to kill me.  Before I knew it, Trace pointed her gun at me and-… then I was on the road.”

Orion’s lips thinned, “What did his doctor look like?”

Brull shrugged, “I dunno, weird looking lady, talked funny.  She had this brown metal mask.”

Orion stood up, his forever tome snapped shut and he was looking to Frosta, “Her target is in the Horde.  We need to switch our investigation to that side.”

Frosta just leaned on her staff studying Orion, it was unusual for him to get this animated.  

He continued, “I shall approach Hordak himself, convincing him should not be a problem once he knows the stakes involved.  We should have this wrapped up in no time.”

Frosta let that hang in the air a moment and then pointedly brought her hand up to point at her hood that hid her charred head, the gesture speaking yarns about how much the Horde wanted to deliberate about something once they’ve decided.  

Orion's resolve was firm, “We have no choice.  Alyn is a threat that needs to be addressed immediately.  I will convince him.”

Frosta nodded reluctantly, “Shall I be coming with you, teacher?”

Brull, quiet during their exchange, finally asked, “Uhh… what’s going on?  Can I go now?”

Orion turned his gaze back to Brull, softening, “You will be guided to a place of rest.  Your journey here is over, but your new journey is just beginning.  Frosta will see to it.”

Frosta stepped forward, extending her hand again, but this time with a softer demeanor, “Come with me, Brull.  It’s time to move on.”

Later still…

Alyn looked at the new persona’s nametag that she had now.  Again, that bothersome thought about how she should be feeling about taking lives came to her.  It nestled in her mind conversing with what she was doing now and it was overturned easily.  Any sacrifices here were simply for the greater good.  She had to reconnect with the chronicler soul if she was going to be able to extract justice on her murderer.  Alyn adjusted the collar of her newly acquired uniform, the black military fabric was stiff against her skin.  

She approached the heavily guarded entrance to the Horde's research facility.  Despite not looking like the picture depicted on the “donor’s” uniform she had a simple plan for getting past the guards.  

As she reached the checkpoint, two armored guards stepped forward, their weapons at the ready.  "Halt! State your name and business," one of the guards demanded, eyeing Alyn with suspicion.

Alyn's steady voice responded, "Private Alyssa, reporting for duty.  I've been assigned to Dr.  Riven's engineering team."

The guards exchanged a skeptical glance.  One said, “Take off your mask, we need to I.D.  you.”

The mask’s voice cooed softly, “Oh… you don’t want that.”

“New rules for stamping out that leak that got Adora kidnapped.  We need to match your picture ID.”

She stood deathly still pretending to struggle with the request, “You… you really don’t want me to.”  She tilted her head up showing the seam where the copper met flesh.  Despite having cleaned it just before coming here, the line was already bleeding again, looking much like a red bead of caulk on a window.  She blended the honest truth with a lie, “I was shot in the face three times shortly after my picture was taken, this mask is for your sake more than it is for mine.”

They nervously looked between themselves then.  Finally one of them motioned for Alyn to proceed.  "Well, be sure to get a new ID next time.  Follow me.  Director Riven's lab is this way," he grunted, leading her down a maze of corridors lined with armed personnel and high-tech equipment.

As they approached the entrance to the lab, Alyn's couldn’t deny the small hit of excitement that came with deceiving them.  She knew ultimately that gaining access to Director  Riven's division was crucial to her mission, but she also understood the risks involved.

The guard punched in a code on the keypad, her mask decrypting the movements of his shadow to read out the passcode to her.  Heavy metal doors slid open with a pneumatic hiss.  She stepped into the lab, her mask’s sensors feeding her the many rows of advanced machinery.  She could feel the processors inside warming up as it relentlessly dumped information directly into her mind, names and badges of the scientists in white lab coats bustling about, the dimensions of the drab room and so on.  

Riven stood at the center of the room, overseeing a team of engineers as they worked on a prototype energy weapon.  Alyn's gaze lingered on the scientist, her mind soaking in all the data the mask was imprinting on her.  Riven was a magicat.  His feline features were striking—sharp eyes with slit pupils, fur-covered ears that twitched involuntarily, and retractable claws that now lay still as he observed his team.  His tawny fur, marred by the signs of stress and neglect, contrasted sharply with the pristine white of his lab coat.  His tail, usually a sign of his active and ambitious nature, flicked occasionally as he monitored the progress of the engineers.

As they drew closer Alyn increased her pace to walk abreast of her escort.  Before he knew what was happening she had her hand jabbed out to greet the director, “Hello, sir, I am Alyssa Nyland, pleased to make your acquaintance.  I have been evaluated by Doctor Yars and have been submitted for active service with the Horde.  You will see my file is in order.”

Riven turned to regard her with a critical eye, assessing her with a calculating gaze.  "Very well.  Report to Specialist Jenkins for your assignment.  We have much work to do." he replied, his tone curt and businesslike.

“ Specialist Jenkins…” she echoed indignantly, “You know that I am a defector from Dryl and you’re issuing me a handler?  I thought that the Horde valued the sciences.”

Riven replied sourly, “That we do, we also value order and assigning appropriate tasks to only those that have proven their worth-”

Alyn knifed in, “Then perhaps you should re-evaluate Jenkins’ current tasks.  His books are a mess and his calculations sloppy.  If we were to burn 25.7% of the liquid fuel at the perigee as he foolishly has written down on his open notebook it would destabilize the orbits of not only the flagship but send the top secret satellite payload into deep space.” 

Riven looked astonishedly at the approaching unaware specialist.  Alyn pointed her mask in Jenkin’s direction and accused, “If you are serious about creating a permanent covert space presence, perhaps you should task someone who will close his folders on a regular basis.”  

Jenkins, chewing on a doughnut, looked surprised and then looked beyond Alyn at his desk.  Riven said, “Indeed…”

Alyn looked back to the lead researcher, pressing her luck, “Are there any other handlers that you would like evaluated?”

Riven gestured, “Walk with me… what did you say your name was?”

Alyn lied, “Doctor Alyssa Nyland, or Doctor Nyland if we’re becoming familiar.  I’m here to help you.”

Chapter 11: Elipse

Summary:

Brightmoon reviews the changes in their organization.

Adora and Catra fight out their problems.

Alyn discovers the Horde's Ares program.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KU2nHkbnAZw

Brightmoon’s command room held the highest members of the rebellion that day.  It was a large room clearly constructed during times of peace, transformed now into a place of grim decision.  In the center of the room there was a large table that shone a digital map of etheria on a rounded phosphor monitor built into the center, positioned up so that all could see equally.  Large tube monitors had been pushed back to make room for cork board displays that held printout papers pinned to them, a quiet reminder of a brutal defeat about a year ago in Thaymor when the Horde had compromised their digital platform.  An oscillating fan drifted back and forth making a few battle plans bend in the breeze as though trying to escape.  

Glimmer and Bow were at the head, Angella flanked their right.  There were two ominously empty chairs after that silently reminded everyone of their failure to the kingdoms of Snows and Plumeria.  Opposite them was Mermista, for the first time since Salineas fell, she presented herself without the gauze and bandaging that she had lived with for months.  Jagged scar tissue in three lines swept from her nose, through her cheek and up into her buzz cut on the side of her head.    It continued up into the side of her scalp where her dark blue locks grew long.  At the base of her skull, was a skin graft that was mostly covered by the rest of her long hair flowing from the top of her head.  Around her shoulders was brushed stainless steel plating that gave way to a strange semi-translucent honeycomb plate infused with specialized carbon weave and molybdenum alloy fiber that would minimize shockwave damage during underwater combat.  

Other generals made up the rest of the table.  Spinerella sat next to Netossa, both looking pensively at the map. Their battle armors held plates shrouded by similar carbon weave, carefully tailored to take bullets.  Still, each held space for some rich purple and periwinkle blue filigree along the trim of their shoulders.  Prominently, each wore a simple matching silver band on their exposed fingers.  One leaned to the other making a worried remark about the information in front of them.  

Near to them was General Julia adorned in her functional yet impressive looking armor of the home guard of Brightmoon.  Next to them were a few other specialists who sat quietly, their faces pointed in the direction of Bow waiting for him to begin.  

Bow cleared his throat, the room was already almost silent so it echoed back to him slightly.  

“I have called you all together to allow for discussion on the key events that have been handed down through channels.  I expect you have questions about the change in relations with Dryl, the return of Angella, as well as the shift from non-lethal to lethal ordinance.”

They all shifted uncomfortably a moment. Finally, Mermista leaned forward, eyes narrowing, her voice ice-cold and scathing. “I think I speak for all of us when I say: too little, too late.” Her gaze locked on Angella, disdain clear in every word. “The Whispering Woods? They're already swarming with Horde encampments. Supply caravans are practically rolling out the red carpet for them, handing over manifests like we’re their compliant little vassals now. The noose isn't just tightening, your lordship—it's already making us gasp for air.”

Bow winced but gave a small nod, gesturing toward Angella. “There have been other developments.”

Mermista’s lips twisted into a bitter smirk, her voice venomous. “Oh, sure. Developments.” She looked at Angella, eyes flashing with sarcastic malice. “So... what is it this time? She-Ra swoops in, waves her magic sword, and saves the day?  Maybe that’s how it worked in your stories, but down here, we're knee-deep in blood, and legends don’t stop bullets.”

Bow started to say, “That’s enough.” but Angella interrupted him, rising quickly to meet her words, “Where I come from, we were just beginning to taste victory. The Horde was on the back foot, and the rebellion—our rebellion—was gaining strength through our unity.  You may think everything is lost now, but I remember a time when hope was unshakeable. When even the worst defeats didn’t crush our spirit, because we knew we could count on each of you like family.”

Mermista’s eyes darkened, but Angella continued, her voice steady. “You may have been bitter, sarcastic… but never hopeless. If we let that die now, if we surrender to defeat before the fight’s even begun, then we’ve already given the Horde exactly what they want.”

Mermista placed a shining gauntlet on the table, her voice rough with anger and grief, “Maybe you missed out, but Salineas has fallen, your majesty. Perfuma was gunned down in Dryl during her relief efforts.” She gestured toward the phosphor monitor’s glowing map. “Look at these lands lost, the resources we lack. You talk of hope, but all I see are bleeding wounds on our alliance.”

Angella’s gaze flicked to the map for a moment, the red marks like jagged scars. She drew a breath and met Mermista’s eyes, “If we spend all our time mourning what we’ve lost, we’ll never use what we have to turn the tide.”

Mermista squinted, her scars deepening as she narrowed her gaze, “So what do we have now?” She snatched a paper from the table, her voice laced with frustration. “Permission from the king to slightly sting the Horde while they march on the capital?  A single new combatant?  Put the rumors to rest, She-Ra.  Show us this splendor that will save us all!”

“I am not She-Ra!  But she is here—on this world!” Angella snapped back, tone sharp.  

Mermista stood, her voice rising with barely contained anger. “Then produce her, Queen of Brightmoon!  Bring us this hope you're clinging to.”

Angella’s gaze flicked to Bow and Glimmer before settling back on Mermista.  Her voice softened, yet carried an urgency. “Now is not the time.”

Mermista scoffed, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture as she slumped back in her chair.  Quiet murmurs spread across the room, discontent rippling through the rebellion's leadership.

Angella inhaled sharply, sensing the need to shift the conversation.  Her voice cut through the quiet, “You don’t understand. There’s more at stake than Etheria’s survival.”

The murmurs stilled as all eyes turned to her.

Angella was practiced at speaking publicly, she waited a beat before continuing, “I should not be here.  The last thing that I remember was plucking the sword of power from the chaotic powers of a portal that, if left unchecked, would have not only destroyed my reality but all realities.”  The generals drew completely silent at that.  Angella made sure to look at Mermista when she dramatically swept an arm in front of her body, “My actions should have made my life forfeit, yet here I am before you.  If this has unsealed the portal it means that chaos is sure to follow, perhaps the same wound that my world had is now infecting yours, and the outcome all the same should we not find the answers we need now.”

She paused, adding, “We must speak with Entrapta.  She was the only one to understand not only what was going on, but how to fix it.”

Mermista looked to the other generals, then to Bow, “You want us to get that murderer out of the Horde?  She’s a royal, they probably killed her in the whispering woods an hour after we handed her over.”

Bow stepped in before Angella could respond, his voice calm but firm, “The Horde keeps records.  We need to find out what they’ve done with her.  All we’re asking is to gather information—if she’s alive, we need her.  If she’s not, we’ll reach out to the Dryl Board of Directors.  Either way, we can’t move forward without knowing the truth.”

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=799yZ4Lyu90

They circled each other, How many times have they faced off against each other in the pit?  

The pit was a dark place smelling of old dried blood, a chair intended for an arbiter stood at the north end, they both stood before it, silently acknowledging the one who once overlooked their training.  They moved from Shadow Weaver’s empty chair, feet making scraping noise as the tiny pebbles designed to break falls splashed before them.  It was many times a public place, where soldiers came to keep their skills honed and settle their wreckage.  Light shone from a large hole in the ceiling, casting dark shadows on their faces.  Around the perimeter of the 40 ft gravel circle held blunted weaponry of all kinds suspended by rusted chains on gentle hooks.  They swayed slightly, emitting soft tinkling from their distant anchors in the ceiling.  Here were the tools, where conflicts turned violent.  Where steel cut steel.

From a tender age they knew this space, many times they were even excited to step into the circle.  Shadow Weaver would personally bring them here during break days so that she could conjure illusions for them to team up against, like a video game brought to life.  They grew into the weak points of one another as they aged, Adora’s growing body became the methodical, unflinching inevitable archetype while Catra was the testing needle that found weakness in the enemy’s armor.  At least that’s how their early training went, before Shadow Weaver’s chair became absent after the Lyte operation.  

After their trainer left, they didn’t know how to spar against each other in a productive way, gone were the common threats, only each other.  This was the only way that the Horde could deal with grief, conflict, fear, weakness.  Those moments were wound into tools for building better soldiers, cutting away anything that would make them stumble on the battlefield.  It was a great strain on their relationship.  Through many skirmishes and clipped words they had found an accord.  Somehow, through a path filled with strikes, footing slips, sweat and exhaustion they had impossibly found love for one another there.  

Where the edict had put pressure, Adora’s death and return had caused a foundational crack.  It was the first time that they stood against each other since Adora returned to life.  Their private quarrels had only become more intense over the past week.  It needed to be stopped, dissension in the ranks this high was an embarrassment and had to be carved away.  They knew.  This would serve this purpose.  

Her fierce blue eyes locked on Catra’s.  Their feet traipsed through the gravel in the dark room clockwise along the perimeter of the circle.  The ritualistic path allowed both to back away from the conflict if either had any doubt.  Once they reached the starting point, they knew that only drawing blood would stop the attack.  Catra had reached her commitment point first, she was always faster than her both in body and committing to combat.  Catra usually had mirth when reaching the spot, sometimes bouncing on her feet.  Not today.  Her ears back and swishing tail told Adora that the fight they were going to have soon was going to be just this side of lethal.  Adora’s feet stopped at the top of the circle and braced.  She saw Catra drawing close lightning quick already, her light feet breaking the gravel.  

Adora took the few paces close.  Always, Catra threw her whole body, claws first in a leaping strike.  Adora anticipated it throwing her partner to the side.  Catra tumbled to her feet and sprung back into Adora.  She was slower, but ready.  Adora twisted her body ejecting Catra’s full tilt momentum far to the side.  Catra’s clawed feet scraped the gravel now roughly 20 feet away.  Adora only then had the chance to arm herself with a long blunt claymore, tearing it from one of the rusty chains that surrounded the circle.  

Catra’s tail lashed behind her, “What’s your excuse now, Adora?  Why haven’t you talked with Hordak yet about us?”

Adora took a step forward arcing the sword knowing that Catra would easily dance away from the advance.  With the posturing she answered, “Our talks aren’t about edicts right now.  They’re about positioning outside of Brightmoon and holding there.”

Her almond eyes widened, “We’re going to siege Brightmoon!?  We’re already doing that to Dryl and it’s been years!  What are you thinking !?”

She was so distracted that Adora’s backswing almost landed true.  Catra twirled from the glancing strike, balancing herself by putting a hand and knee to the ground, swiping her other leg wide which sent gravel sprinkling away from them.  Adora kept moving forward this time sending a downward strike Catra’s direction.  Speed was again Catra’s advantage as she pounced from the ground up into Adora knocking the weapon from her as they both fell into a grapple.  Catra’s angry instinct raised her hand high, claws fully extended.  She brought them down in a cruel swipe on Adora, but in the last split second Adora twisted her side causing the claws to gash into the gravel.  Adora gave a straining noise pushing her hips up into Catra launching her from their engagement.  Adora rolled away knowing that if they stayed grappled, Catra’s claws would for sure draw blood first.  

“What do you want , Catra?” Adora shouted, “You want me to authorize an extermination on the capital of the rebels after their mercy?  How would the optics of that play out?”

Catra shouted back showing off her teeth, “I want you to choose me! Don’t I mean anything to you anymore?”

Adora rose to her feet pointedly looking at Shadow Weaver’s empty chair, then back to her partner, “You mean everything to me, Catra.”

Catra shouted an angry noise at her and launched another strike with every word, “Then fucking do something about this!”

Adora wheeled backwards casting the sharp hands aside each time, finally catching both.  Her breath heaved, sweat on her brow, “After we settle Brightm-”

Catra felt every hair on her rise in fury.  She twisted her hands free, knocking off Adora’s balance.  For the briefest second her back was exposed but it was long enough for her to win.  Her hands raked along Adora’s back gashing great lines of red.  Adora yowled in pain hitting the ground hard.  Catra gasped looking down at her hands covered in Adora’s flesh and blood.  The rich coppery scent assaulted her nose, sickness rose in her stomach rising to the back of her throat, this was nothing like the last time it happened.  Last time, satisfaction had swelled, now Adora would have no choice but to return to the Horde.  The rebellion was crushed with their kingpiece laying defeated in the water.  Perfect, never-punished Adora, had finally lost.  Now Adora was her’s again.  

 

Water?  Her’s again ?

 

Adora stirred on the gravel groaning.  Catra was pulled back to reality.  She cast off the discipline of the Horde and rushed to Adora’s side, gripping her partner.  “Adora!” fear made her voice break, “I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean-” 

Adora shrugged away the hands on her shoulder.  “This is the pit! ” Adora reminded Catra, “All it means is you’ve won this round.”  Pain shocked through her system as she started to get to her knee.  

Catra scolded, “Yes, it is the pit, dummy, and I’ve drawn blood… lots of blood.  Let’s get you to the infirmary.”

Adora stayed very still, something about Catra’s desperate, broken voice apology was stuck replaying in her mind, again and again.  It was almost as though it was the most important thing that she ever said to her–..... almost.  Her blue eyes drifted up to Catra.  Her cold expression softened, silently telling her that the physical fight was over.  

Adora stubbornly got to a knee, resting her forearm there, “I am injured, Catra, but it doesn’t change things.”

Catra side-eyed Adora and let sarcasm rise in her voice, “Yeah, well call it catharsis but I’m not really interested in fighting with you anymore.”  The magicat moved in a trot to the edge of the circle where a rag was soaking in a clear liquid.  She gathered the aid and brought it back to Adora’s shredded back.  

Adora visibly eased when the numbing agent spread across her wounds.  She admitted, “I was hoping that we could finally settle this here.  We’re going to continue to fight until we solve this.  You have to come to terms that we are in positions of power here in the Horde.  While we have the potential to make great change, we also have to prioritize what matters most to everyone, not just ourselves.  We need unity if we’re going to finish off the royals.”

Catra continued to gingerly wipe at the wounds she made, “But Adora, you matter too.  We matter!”

Adora’s voice lowered, “We’re just running around in circles…”  She shifted, looked pointedly at Catra, “This is it… Catra.  This is the last time we’re talking about this.  Either we do things my way or you take a leave of absence for a month.  Both Dryl and Brightmoon are going to fall in that time period one way or the other.”

Catra glared, “You said ‘one more month’ two weeks ago when we were vetting out a spy .”

Adora nodded, “And this is the only extension.  I promise.”

Catra wanted to deflect again but something about how Adora was watching her made her stay on topic.  She sighed, “Since this edict came down, it’s like I don’t even know you anymore.  If this is it; your way or no way…” Catra glared, refusing the sting in her eyes, “I shouldn't even have to answer.  You know what I’ll choose.”

Adora lowered her eyes sadly.  ‘I have to… it’s the only way to keep you safe.’

Catra watched Adora’s eyes, focusing on one then the other.  She could tell there was more to this but she was past caring.  She reached for Adora’s hand, “We’re still getting you to the infirmary.”

Adora took the help, getting her weight underneath.  She looked to her partner only to see a stranger looking back at her.  Catra’s warmth in her eyes had drifted away leaving behind a creature of duty.  It made Adora’s heart sink remembering the last time that this happened.  Catra had been clinging to a cliff staring into her soul and then suddenly, knowingly , let go.

Adora looked at her lonely hand, Catra was only a few paces away when she had to find out, “You’re not going to do something terrible… are you?”

She looked over her shoulder, “What do you mean?”

Adora fluttered her eyes bringing her hand up to look at closer, mentally digging for more, “When… you couldn’t tell me what you wanted before, you did terrible things to me and my new friends.”

Catra’s lips thinned, “And what new friends are those?”

Pink sparkles… heart arrows… And a sword

A pain flared from deep in her mind bringing her back to her knees.  A high pitched noise rose all around her.  Catra was at her side suddenly.  She got to see those exotic eyes again just before the darkness claimed her.  

 

Her indifferent copper mask fed her the information on the flat phosphor monitor.  Alyn’s thumb disturbed the thin layer of dust it naturally gathered.  It was all there.  She had been lied to yet again.  It was called ‘Hellbent’ here, but the same nanobots were illustrated on the monitor carrying the same chemical cocktails.  The implications were chilling; this was a continuation of the Ares project.  Entrapta’s Ares project.  The one that she had spent countless hours protesting, obstructing, and ultimately going over the princess’s head to stop.  It all culminated into one bitter thought:  The failsafe  was only a gesture that was handed to her to keep her from rebelling against her better senses .  Now?  Now because she didn’t listen to herself in those critical moments of doubt, she couldn’t even express her anger.  Even if her mutilated face was exposed instead of the mask, it couldn’t flex into a scowl.  Now she could only stare.  

Alyn’s permanent mask tilted to the side to see Riven watching the middle distance in a stupor, the result of the overdose of Hellbent she had orchestrated.  His life now hinged on the quality control of the Horde’s manufacturing machines.  Even in a best case scenario where he was high on Dryl’s Ares project, there would still be a 20% mortality rate.  If he died, she could still adapt.  He would be dependent on the chemicals now.  While he was quite intelligent, he was now extremely moldable.

Uncovering the flaws in his staff around him had rocketed her higher and higher access to him and the projects that he was working on.  Riven had been an ambitious scientist, eager to make breakthroughs and gain recognition.  His weaknesses made him an easy target for Alyn’s manipulations.  When he had invited her to his office, she knew that she couldn’t pass up the chance to learn even more about the new project that had the leaks in security murmuring.

She flashed her fingers along the keyboard, completing the transfer of the data to the copper mask.  The intricate circuitry within the copper face absorbed the information, storing it safely away from prying eyes.  A word flashed on the computer screen asking if she was sure she wanted to purge the formula from the local data.  She confirmed the choice, barely having enough time to read it.  The screen flickered and then went blank, the formula erased from the system.

An alert from her personal messenger rose up on Riven’s computer screen.  Her new patient, Adora, had been admitted to the infirmary.  Her heart skipped a beat, this was a perfect opportunity to set her plans in motion.  She stirred in the head scientist’s chair and told Riven, “You’re likely to not remember this, but I’m going to be heading to do some duty work in the infirmary.  I’ll be back after the dosage wears off with a different chemical to try.”

Riven’s vacant wide almond eyes barely registered her words, a faint nod the only indication he had heard anything.  She thought a long moment about how precarious his life was right now and he didn’t even seem to care.  Her mask hissed, “Was she proud, when she told you?  Did Entrapta resist at all?  Did she even last five minutes under your torture, or did she align with you only to find herself in your clutches like the naive child she is?”

Riven’s transfixed eyes half blinked, all he could almost string together was the beginning of the engineer’s name, “Entn-...”

Alyn’s rosy knuckled pale hand reached out and lifted the man’s jaw to gaze up at his warbled reflection in her mask.  She cooed eerily soft, “How hard was it?  To get Aries?”

Riven blissfully smiled showing off his sharp incisors, “Not-...  not my job.”

It was only natural for him to have delegated the dirty work of torture out to someone else.  His inability to help her right now flicked the proverbial switch in her mind, if it wasn’t for the fact that he could be more useful as a shield to hide her involvement in the horde he would have died right there.  Her mask turned to his hand.  She gathered it up in her own, bringing it between them.  Alyn’s speaker sweetly lulled out, “My dear… Do you want to know the real reason why I discontinued Aries?”  Her other hand fished into her pocket grasping the metal of her laser scalpel.  

His dumb smile stayed on his lips.  Her voice continued, pitching an elated high, “Oh, it wasn’t its effectiveness in controlling soldiers, that it did, amazingly well.  Entrapta did what she always did.  She got what she wanted out of me and then used it.  I was just a tool of her’s to wield.  But she missed something critical… essential. ”  She turned the delicate cradle into a sudden and violent clutch, wrenching their held hands under her control.  With a single swipe she took the first two fingers of the man letting them patter to the floor.  Her blonde halo powered hair scooped them up into her palm in the next moment.  He was too shocked to understand what was happening.  Just as fast, she released the hold and he drew back his trimmed hand, inspecting it in a detached way.  The injury was cauterized by the intense heat of her tool.  Alyn began to pace away, pocketing his fingers.  Her voice was intensely pleased, “It wasn’t any of that… it’s the inability of the soldiers to recover quickly from their kills.”

Riven picked up on Alyn’s cheer and vacantly let occasional laughs leave his chest as he squirmed the remaining fingers against the new sensation.  For just a moment she watched his childlike amusement with his new features.  She left, her soft footfalls quieted as she left the room for the senior officer ward where Adora was to meet her again. 

Chapter 12: A king may not move into check

Summary:

Hordak is introduced we see that his organization is a military industrial one that needs an enemy to function.

We flash back to see what happened to Nyland and Lysandra (Entrapta's parents)

Orion warns him about Alyn.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HGoz6QEYNTM

The Dark Garnet Fortress

It was like all the other days before it.  Hordak stared at his intricate project table, arms with tools poised to be useful.  It was empty, a thin layer of dust was built up on it.  He remembered when project after project would come in for him to work on.  He remembered the thrill of getting his hands on shreds of Chimera so many years ago and was deconstructing the chemicals.  He let a soft sigh escape his chest.  These rebels were nothing compared to the conflict that most denied even happened.  It all was for the glory of victory over his once brother.  Now, all that was left was the rebellion against him.  Against progress.  

The man scraped his sharp talons on the arm rest of the looming throne, his other hand held his jaw boredly looking over yet another document this one was submitted by Director Helinor.  He had figured out that the stockpile of Skyfire ballistic missiles was enough to burn Brightmoon into the ground twice over.  He was requesting a decisive strike to end the conflict.  

He called to the darkness, “Enter, director.”

Helenor stood a tall six eight, taller than Hordak himself, but not from his imposing throne.  He moved fluidly on his thin limbs.  He wore a high collared black uniform of the Horde, pressed crisp and clean.  Horde insignia wrapped around his sides.  His skin was colored olive and short stark-white hair was trimmed neatly at the sides with a short tuffet on top.  

Hordak simply held the paper out at him.  A test.

Helenor smiled widely, “I take it you have read over the proposal.  Shall I start distributing the action plan among the force captains?”

Hordak turned the paper to face him again, purposefully giving no hint of expression.  

The director’s brows raised, “Sir?”

The blank red triangles Hordak had for eyes looked the paper over again.  He rubbed his thumb against the paper causing an ominous scrape in the silence surrounding them.  

Helenor stammered, “I… I have looked over the figures.  There’s a chance we could have this operation done by nightfall.  The war would be over!”

Finally Hordak spoke, “You reach higher than your station Helenor.  If this was in the interest of the Horde, a vice general would have presented it to me.”

“Sir!”  Helenor bleated, “I have the same information that they do, yet they have done nothing for months to bring an end to the conflict.”

Flatly Hordak replied, “Yes.” The word hung in the empty air while Hordak’s gaze bore into the man. 

Helenor licked his drying lips, starting to understand that larger gears were in motion.  He asked, “Why wouldn't they do that?  What does a prolonged conflict serve other than to bring more death?”

“Economy, Helenor.” Hordak replied.  

Helenor's eyes widened, his expression a mix of confusion and frustration.  “Economy, sir?  But surely, the cost of this prolonged war is greater than a swift and decisive victory!”

Hordak leaned back in his throne, the shadows casting his features in stark contrast to his glowing red eyes, “What do you know of unity, director?”

His expression looked mixed, eyes darting to the side.  He repeated one of the propaganda posters, “Unity… is the cornerstone of our power?”

Hordak replied, “Yes, yes it is.  What happens to our people, our unity , if the threat of an enemy is no longer a threat?”

The man’s lips thinned, “Sir, When you took on the role of general, you said it was a heavy but necessary burden because we faced an enemy.  Wouldn’t the conflict ending relieve you of that burden?”

Hordak’s eyes narrowed, he let the paper fall as he stood from the throne, armor glinting in the dim light.  His voice droned dangerously, “Does it seem to you that I am burdened by this role still, director?”

His eyes widened, “No!  No sir!”

Hordak’s gaze turned icy, “Questioning me is not your role, Director.  Obey, or become expendable.  Understand?”

Helenor stiffened, “Yes, sir.  I understand.”

“Good,” Hordak said, dismissing him with a wave, “Now leave me.  I have more pressing matters to attend to.”

Helenor quickly made his way to the exit, only speeding faster when he heard the leader of the Horde slowly descend the stairs of his throne.  He moved to the empty project table, the brief confrontation leaving him with a hollow sense of dissatisfaction.  He sighed deeply, the weight of his isolation pressing down on him once more.  He placed his palm on the edge of it, feeling along its cold surface.  He recalled all the time spent preparing to fight his brother.  All that was long gone now, replaced only by the steady turning of air recycler fans and the frightened quivering voices of his advisors.  Only Adora seemed to speak as his equal, all else bowed and whimpered.  

One of the few adornments left on the table was a treasure in a small box, the only thing without dust on it.  He indulged himself, taking the item into his hand, and parting its seam revealing inside the simple wedding band, a trophy from his completed plan.  He cast his mind back remembering the day that it all came to bear fruit.  

 

The table was set for royalty.  Smells of decadent meat and food filled the chamber.  Suckling pig, cranberries and mint jam were the centerpiece as well as the meal itself.  It was framed by casseroles and vegetables decadently covered in oil and butter.  The high arches hid where the chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their chains settling in on themselves blending in with the huge fireplace.  The dim lighting cast him entirely in shadow, he knew his red glowing eyes were the only part of him that they could see clearly.  He sat across from his old friend and his chosen wife.  

He spoke to her, “This was not necessary for you to accompany him.  I do not know whether to thank you for this, or scold you for your naivety.”  

Lysandra stared defiantly at him.  The served food was going cold on her plate.  Nyland continued to stare aimlessly at the ceiling, sweat pouring down his brow from the torture he had suffered.  To his credit, the detention master’s order to keep his face from harm was followed.  His clothing was stained red here and there from wounds sustained through the elevated interrogation techniques that they had inflicted on him.  

The king of Dryl panted, “They’ll… never believe it.”

Hordak boredly sighed, “Evelyn has assured me that Warren has no taste for combat or conflict when the funding is so high.  Money… the downfall of your noble oligarchy.  Despite your founders best efforts, despite removing greed from their company goals, they will fall.  For greed is the foundation of everything.  Even yourself.  Your greed has brought us here to this moment.  You wanted to find peace after all, you needed to find peace.”

Hordak leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together like a tightly, forever-locking door.  They were little more than objects now their options were so few.  

His scraping voice unfolded the truth, “You believed you could buy your settlement’s peace with your trade agreement.  As if it were a commodity.  But peace is not purchased—it is taken.  And I have taken it from you.  From your kingdom.  From everything you once held dear.”

He leaned back, for just a moment before he stood up deliberately slow.  The sound of his decorative armor moving against itself echoed in the grand hall.  He paced along the long table glaring at him.  “You were never my equal, Nyland.  Not in strategy, not in strength, and certainly not in vision.  Your downfall was inevitable the moment you believed you could stand in my way.”

When his journey finished Hordak towered over him with a menacing presence.  A cruel smile came to his lips shifting his attention to Lysandra, “And you, my dear Lysandra, you followed him into this ruin.  You should have known better.  But now, you will witness what true power looks like—a power that does not beg, does not negotiate, and certainly does not bow.”

Hordak’s grip closed around the king’s face. His fingers tightened, his claws digging into flesh.  Lysandra screamed for her husband.

It drew his attention from Nyland to her.  He didn’t blink, didn’t react. His gaze remained locked on her until she became quiet.  He wanted her to see this.

“Terror,” he mused, almost clinically, “The same fear you once instilled in those beneath you.  You find it here, only now do you understand the folly of your structure.”

Lysandra fought to keep her tears in, forcing a brave expression on her face.  Hordak’s dark voice was mocking, “I suppose I should not be surprised, when all your protections of station are carved away leaving you to only fend for yourselves.  I should have only expected you to act like children wondering what will come next.  Where is the justification for all your prompt and circumstance?  Where is your bravery?  Your mettle?  Where are they now?”

Nyland let out a strained, rattling breath.  Lysandra visibly trembled in her chair.  Abruptly, Hordak released the king.

Nyland collapsed onto the table, gasping for air, a man already dead in every way but one.  Hordak straightened, turning away. His steps carried him toward the door.

“I give you time,” he said simply, “Time to reflect on the lives you shattered with your rule. Time to find something to say to your makers when you meet them… soon.”

And with that, he left them to their fate.

The detention master had delivered the golden rings inside the box to him a few weeks later, signifying the end of the king and queen of Dryl.  He watched the sparkle of them in the dim light for a moment before closing the box to again place it on the empty table.  

 

“Lord Hordak.” came a voice from one of the many dark corners of the room.

Hordak’s face sneered, looking in the direction of the voice.  

Orion’s ethereal figure shimmered into existence a few feet away from the leader of the Horde.  He gave a deep bow, “I seek an audience.  The matter is urgent, existence is on the line.”

Hordak sneered, “Insolence!  How did you find your way into my sanctum?”

Orion gave a graceful bow, “Orion Starwatcher, a teacher in the afterlife.  Your organization is under serious threat of a being that has re-woven time for the purpose of returning to the land of the living.  It would behoove you to listen to me so that we might work together.”

Hordak’s expression soured at the bow, his tone grim, “And why should I believe such a claim?”

Orion gestured to his translucent body, “I literally stand before you as a ghost.  This is no projection, as you said yourself, this is your sanctum.  I have tasked myself with correcting what Alyn has done, you may either help us, and perhaps gain, or stand against what will happen, and lose so much.”

Hordak glared, “What kind of gains do you offer?”

Orion replied, “Why, your organization could claim that they helped mend reality itself.”

Hordak laughed, “And what proof will there be of that?  Even now, many outside the horde refuse to acknowledge the truth—that I was the one who ended an intergalactic threat with the help of this world's people. They rewrite history, dismissing the greatest victory ever achieved.”  He leaned towards Orion, “The world would rather hold on to its delusions rather than accept what I have built here in this land.”

The ghost brought a hand up, touching his thinning lips in thought.

Hordak continued, ascending the short stairs to his throne, “No, specter, I have no need for the ‘aid’ you offer.  You have told me everything I require already.”  He clutched the armrest of his throne turning dramatically to Orion, “There is power in my ranks.  A power worth seizing.  I will see to it that they are brought before me.”

Orion, ever the diplomat, replied calmly, “You believe that you can bring the thing that can warp existence before you… and control it?”

Hordak’s voice went low, dangerous, “Yes.”  He brought his hand up clutching the air before him into a fist, “Power like that belongs to me, and me alone! ”

“So be it, I shall find this entity without your help to your own peril.”  With that the wisps that luminated his features flickered to nothing, leaving Hordak alone in the dim light.

 

Chapter 13: Regarding your friend's appointment

Summary:

Adora meets her new doctor.

The alliance opens negotiations with the Horde.

  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9W07TwahvZk

Her blonde hair clutched the now sterile u shaped suture needle.  Alyn's ponytail brought it back to her, her hand plucked it out of the strands.  She pressed the tip into Adora’s flesh, then pulled it through, tenting her skin as it clung with the tension.  The flesh trembled as the blood coated thread passed through, tightening the wound closed.  Back went Alyn’s practiced pale, rosy-knuckled bare hand went for another suture.  Catra’s mismatched eyes watched from a distance with reserved revulsion as the strange copper-masked doctor worked her craft.

“Is she going to be okay?” Catra asked, worry moving into her voice.

Alyn turned her head from her needlework, watching Catra’s body language.  She already knew that the girl was deeply troubled by the damage she dealt as well as-… Something else.  Perhaps personality conflicts with the second in command. Despite the action literally saving Adora’s life, every time Alyn was pushing another stitch in, it made Catra flinch, or lips thin, or clench her already balled fists.  There was clearly something deeper in their connection.  

Alyn decided to play dumb, “Don’t get so ambitious, she just passed out.”

Catra frowned, tail twitching behind her, “Ambitious?”

Alyn’s speaker said calmly, “You won’t be getting her job any time soon, her heart rate is good, no poison in her, just the back injury.”

Already irritated with Adora, Catra said in a chiding tone, “As if I wanted her job.”

That piqued Alyn’s curiosity, hostility .  The girl didn’t like others gathering insight on their interactions.  Which meant she wasn’t done probing, “Interesting, your insignia says that you’re part of Adora’s Force Captains.  Which means that your ambition made you climb to nearly the top of the Horde itself, but then stopped.  Why there? Why third?”

Catra squinted at the strange woman, “You’re not Adora’s normal doctor.  Who are you?”

Alyn’s voice smiled, “Doctor Cryss had this terrible trend of choosing to be present during meetings that discussed classified information.  She might have had clearance to be there, but her schedule seemed to favor those times over normal office hours.”

Catra frowned, “ Adora submitted her own availability for the mandatory required checkups.  Her doctor was just trying to find any time Adora was available.”

The girl knew Adora’s schedule, knew that she wasn’t the normal doctor, getting more irritated by the second.  A final test: without looking, she made another puncture with her suture needle.  Alyn noted the impossible-to-hide contraction of Catra’s pupils.  Alyn turned her attention fully back to Adora’s wounds.  She explained, “Director Riven didn’t see it that way.”

Catra squinted suspiciously at Alyn, “So where is she?”

Alyn explained, “Riven elected to replace Doctor Cryss.”  She lied, “I’m Doctor Alyssa Nyland, I’m here to help the Horde.  I worked closely with Doctor Nulvis on Dryl’s Chimera project.”

Catra’s brows raised.  The Chimera project was legendary among the animal-like sentients of Etheria.  It enhanced strengths and minimized weaknesses or defects.  The screening process and the cost were the only things that stood in the way of becoming the best version of oneself.  She murmured astonishedly, “Chimera...” She briefly shook her head, getting back on topic.  “So, what are you doing here?”

Alyn stated the obvious, “Treating your friend.”

Catra’s lips thinned.  Alyn went back to focusing on her stitching.  Without looking up from what she was doing she urged, “I assure you, Force Captain, that I have things well in hand.  There is nothing that you can do to help here.”

She heard Catra folding her arms.  Alyn noted that there was still no contradiction from her using the term ‘friend’ instead of commanding officer.  She pressed, “I believe that your intercom is on file, I promise that if there is any change in her condition you will be alerted.”

When only silence came back to her Alyn tilted her gaze from Adora to Catra.  The girl’s resolve was ironclad, Alyn could tell she wouldn’t move from that spot.  She finally played the card, “Definitely love.”

“ What? ” Catra’s voice cracked high with outrage.  

Alyn was done entertaining the act, she said, “Any normal soldier in the Horde would bite at the chance to rise to a higher rank.  Any friend would understand that you leave when the doctor tells you to.  So we have a situation here.  You’re in love with Adora.  So either I look blindly to that fact and work on Adora in peace, alone, or I will write you up for violating edict 22.”

Catra went still, blood rushing through her.  She glanced at Adora, then at Alyn.  Staying wouldn't change Adora’s mind or protect her.  A sneer twitched on her lip as she left.

Adora’s flesh continued to quietly protest against the repeated puncture and pull despite its necessity.  She tilted her head, calculating how stubbornly Catra had clung to Adora, a game piece that was entirely Alyn's.  She played with the data, her mask murmuring, just above the steady pop of static, “Very strong loyalty index… somewhere between a significant self-inflicted wound and taking two bullets to the leg.  She thinks–...” Alyn became absorbed in what she was doing, tying the black thread tight, then sat back.  

Alyn glanced at the doorway for the pesky partner.  She considered that she might be right outside but decided to risk taking out the bell anyhow.  After all, what could the kitten do in the face of such power?

 

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1YkV-YKJEpA

Bow looked to glimmer, “It can’t be that easy…” He said.  They were in front of one of their terminals with a text readout indicating that the request for a diplomat was processed and one was being dispensed to their location.  

Glimmer pointed at the screen, “That’s… five minutes from now, they must mean five days.”  

Ambassador Liora rubbed at her temples, brows arced, “Oh!… no the Horde is very interested in any active requests to have a diplomat sent out.”

Bow asked, “Why is that?”

Liora gave a rueful sigh, “Have you ever had to call our technical department?  It’s pretty much the same thing.”

Glimmer scoffed, “Well that’s good then, it might be a little bit of maneuvering, but we’ll get through it then.”

Liora made a doubtful expression.

Bow shook his head, “They have to listen to reason, it’s not like we’re requesting they surrender or anything.  We’re trying to stop reality itself from unwinding and all we’re asking is to speak with a prisoner that we released to them.  That can’t be a complicated request.”

Liora wordlessly shifted her weight to the other side, she took out a silver hip flask and knocked back a swig, wincing.  

 

Sure enough, it had been five minutes when they heard the thump of the sound barrier being broken.  Guards had scrambled as the appleseed transport barreled down from the heavens.  Sirens blared as batteries were scrambled.  Two shells cracked into the sky before the transport was inside of the range.  Liora, Glimmer and Bow huffed into the castle courtyard moments later where the transport had stopped.  The single occupant was walking down black hovering stairs.  She was clad in a simple black dress, a large symbol of the Horde was printed on it from waist to chest.  She had unblinking wide eyes with a plastic smile painted on her expression.  Her voice was light and bright when she spoke to the guards that had their shotguns trained on her, “I am a Horde diplomat, I am here at the request of the King and Queen of Brightmoon.  Please state your proposed terms that I may relay them to your representative in the Horde.”

Glimmer looked quizzically at the creature before them, “We have a Horde representative?”

Her voice didn’t lose its sweet tone, “All have a voice in democracy, including those unworthy of it.  Please state your proposed actionable items or terms of surrender.”

Liora leaned over to Glimmer explaining, “There’s a senate that meets behind closed doors in the Horde.  How Etheria is carved up is a mystery that I’ve never had the budget to find out.”

Glimmer stared, bewildered at what Liora might have meant by that.

Bow stepped forward, “What are you?”

She repeated, “I am a Horde diplomat.  I am here due to request 27752.  You may enter in your actionable items or terms of surrender.”

Some of the guards started to dip their guns down.  Bow said, “We wanted to ask what became of the prisoner released back into your care.  Her name is Entrapta.”

The diplomat’s toothy grin stilled for a moment, then answered, “The Princess of Dryl is in the custody of the Horde.”

Glimmer’s patience was wearing thin, “Yes… we know that, we personally released her back to you.  We want to contact her.  How do we do that?”

The diplomat robotically looked to Glimmer and then out to the horizon, then back to Glimmer, “I will presently lodge that as your first actionable item.  Are there any other requests or terms of your surrender?”

Bow frowned, “No… we’re not surrendering.  How long will it take to hear back about our… actionable item?”

She answered, “Actionable item requests are responded to in a swiftly and timely manner of three days or less.  Your current request will come to term in two days, twenty three hours and fifty minutes.”

Glimmer took a step forward, “That’s not good enough!  Reality itself is on the line, you have to let us talk with her!  Entrapta is the only one that might be able to make sense of what’s going on here!”

The diplomat responded, “For an urgency fee, the Horde can improve your experience.  Would you like to upgrade your actionable item request to concierge level?  Today’s concierge service level is $57.55.  The upgrade guarantees your request is heard and considered by your representative as well as a decreased wait time of 24 hours.”

Glimmer’s jaw dropped, she almost shrieked, “What!?”

Bow wiped a hand down his face.  

Glimmer gestured to the diplomat, “How do you deal with this?”

Liora produced her hip flask, handing it to Glimmer.

Chapter 14: Trust me.

Summary:

Catra gets the order for Entrapta's execution, stops just short of signing it.

Catra visits Entrapta's cell in Darkland prison, learns more about Ares.

Alyn has a talk with Adora. Alyn uses the bell on Adora to help her know the truth.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ipkpBY1Z6uI

Catra held up the half-sheet sized execution request from her desk to look at again.  It was a form that she had signed many times before without a second thought but this one… Her eyes lifted to detention master Vex.  He shifted his weight from one side to the other, brows lifted. 

Catra said, “Tell me again, she tried to escape seven times?”

Vex gave an annoyed sigh, explaining, “Oh, yeah.  We had to put her in the original Darkland prison block.”

Catra squinted at him, they had moved her without consulting her.  That was a problem already, but more than that, it didn’t make sense, “Why there ?  That thing is archaic.  It would be even easier for her to escape from there!”

He grimaced, “She kept unlocking the electronic jail cell doors, then setting the alarm off.  She can’t reach the locks in the Darkland block.  Are you going to sign that or not?”

Catra spat, “I’m going to sign it when I feel like it Vex!”

Vex folded his arms with a huff, “Fine, what else do you want to know?”

Catra’s mismatched eyes glared at him for a moment, visually drilling in that he was to answer to her and not the other way around.  Finally she said, “I’ve killed people for less than breaking out of prison.” 

Her pen moved to the slip but she stopped, letting the ink bleed there.  Something was wrong.  Something little. She said, “You meant to say that she kept setting the alarm off when she tries to break out.”

He sighed looking up, “She would unlock her cell door and then set the alarm off.  Then she would wave to the camera and then go lay on her bed.”

Catra scolded, “What kind of jail are you running Vex?  People can just unlock the door whenever they want?”

The detention master scowled and gestured around, “Find me a piece of equipment that wasn’t manufactured in her Chronos factory.”

Catra asked, “...  why didn’t she escape then?”

Vex looked flatly at her for a moment, then repeated, “You going to sign that or not?”

 

Catra glared at the cell door, its three tumbler locks positioned at odd angles like a cruel puzzle.  The ancient Darkland cells were abandoned, silent but for the low hum of forced ventilation pushing stale air through the corridors.  The smell of dust, rust, and age clung to her nostrils, mingling with the faint scent of decay.  Her sensitive ears picked up the occasional skitter of a starving rodent somewhere in the darkness.  The concrete block walls were marked with crude etchings and faded paint, symbols, and names left by thrill-seeking youths who had once dared to explore this forsaken place.

But it wasn’t the graffiti that unsettled her.  It was the weight of the past, the sense that hundreds had met their end here under the old kingdom’s cruel reign, leaving a permanent gloom that seemed to steep into her very bones.  The fur on her back was raised; her brush with Frosta made her imagination run wild about the ghosts that were still lingering here watching her every move.  The sooner she could leave, the better.

The force captain looked back to the damn scrap of paper from her desk that brought her on this pointless journey.  She looked over to the security camera, the only thing that was remotely new about the space, was pointed at the direction of the cell.  It was true, the princess couldn’t physically reach the locks but despite that Vex had it installed to make sure that they could keep an eye on her.  

“Hey” She spat at the door.

Only silence

“I’m getting notes on my desk about you.  You’d better knock it off.” Catra scolded.

That got Entrapta to speak, “Or what?  You’re going to spark up and come in here and kill me yourself?”

Catra said surprised, “What?  No… What are you talking about?”

Silence followed.  

Entrapta’s voice was louder but calmer, she must have come towards the door to speak, “They got it from me… I tried, so hard but they got it from me.  They were gonna-...  my fingers.”  The woman’s voice grew urgent, “You gotta get out of here, like now.  You gotta run.”

The girl sneered, “Is this why you were breaking out of your cell?  To tell me that?”

Entrapta gave a dry laugh, “Wouldn't that have been clever?  No, I was just solving the puzzles that they put in front of me.”

Catra’s eyes remained fixed on the door, her mind racing.  “Why should I run?  You’re a royal ..  You’re just trying to trick me.”

Entrapta made a dismissive noise, then said, “Yeah… yeah… I suppose you’re right.  It’s all a trap.  Look, believe me or don’t, just listen.  They tortured me.  They made me give them the formula for Project Ares.”

Catra scoffed, crossing her arms, “So what?”

Entrapta’s voice grew urgent, “It’s going to change everything .  Look, I’m a civilian.  I have no training at all, but under an Ares dose?  I dented a steel table with my fist.  I felt no pain, no restraint, just power.  I had to-...” she hesitated, “I had to stop the threat .  Ares re-wires you, makes you see everything as a threat or a friendly and you will do anything to make the threats go away.  When you’re done?  It floods your mind with endorphins, it’s the best you’ll ever feel… then you’ll want more.  You’ll need more.  It makes an instant army, and if you believe nothing else, believe that they’re going to use it on every soldier.  Every soldier!!   They now know everything they need.  Why wouldn’t they implement it?”

Catra’s jaw tightened.  “That’s-... that’s nonsense.  They don’t need to implement something like that.  We already have the best army the world has ever seen.”

Entrapta growled, “That’s not why they'll do it.  It’s not about loyalty or skill, it’s about control .  Right now?  You’re free to walk away, free to spare lives, free to take them.  Under Ares?  That goes away, you don’t get to be you anymore.”

Catra scoffed, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.  They’re not going to control me .  I already do everything that they ask of me.”

The engineer’s voice graveled, “Including taking all the drugs they put in front of you.”

Catra rolled her eyes, “Wow, you must be really desperate, if that’s the angle you’re going with.”

Entrapta ominously responded, “And what if your commander was also under the control of Ares?”

The statement stung the base of her skull, “That-… that wouldn’t happen.  Why would Hordak need that kind of control over Adora?”

A silence gripped the space between them.  The door had been a steady stream of Entrapta’s words, a desperate, pleading, edge to them, but Catra could tell in the quiet something had shifted.  

Catra’s ears shifted back and forth, tail turning steadily.  She was about to ask if Entrapta was still there when her voice finally came, low, and defeated, “Because he’s a dictator .  He holds all the keys of power and refuses to give them to anyone that he doesn’t trust or would risk trusting.”

Catra’s lip curled, “You’re so full of shit, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The return didn’t come, again that strange haunt moved through their space again.  Catra’s eyes danced around the door, something about the new pacing was unsettling to her, like she somehow lost control somewhere.  She didn’t like how it nestled in her chest.  Without another word she turned and started to walk away.  As she moved through the shadowy hallway, that feeling in her chest turned to suspicion.  Pieces of what Entrapta had been talking about were falling into place too cleanly, Adora’s promises, the stalling, the inflexibility.  She turned a corner, then another, stomach churning with the thought of someone controlling Adora.  She shivered tamping back the nightmare scenario but found that too many pieces of how Adora had been behaving fit the notion.  

Catra decided to pick up her pace, she had to talk with Adora.  

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ddxSg7Ze0iI

 

The delicate sound of a wind chime.  

 

Adora stirred from the comfort of darkness.  

 

Her back throbbed painfully.  She was wounded.  The fog in her mind lifted and her already open eyes started to focus.  The sound of running water.  She was in the Horde infirmary.  Stark white light bordered between warm and cold.  She was in the executive infirmary.  While she knew her back was telling her it was in pain, it was quickly dulled.  The doctor must have administered some kind of medicine while she was passed out.  She pulled in a deep breath, again that same sensation flared over her back of pain and then numb.  

She turned her head on the bed to look at her doctor.  She was different.  She was at the sink, head tilted down hunched over with long blonde hair spilling over her shoulders.  Her hands were rubbing tightly against each other under the sheen of the rushing tap.  Her thumbs gouged into the middle of the back of her hands turning the skin white and pink in the sterile light.  Almost hiding behind the tap’s whooshing, wet breath rasped back and forth, a nasal noise huffing.  Up came a cloth that she raked along her under chin and throat stopping where-… where her face was interrupted by a copper mask.  

Cold shot through Adora, Doctor Alyn would only be here if she was-...  

Adora called for her body to snap to its feet but it ended up as a slug-like lurch and twist on the bed.  

Alyn’s attention snapped over to her like a discovered animal.  She scrambled over snatching Adora’s jaw forcing her to look up at her mask.  Alyn’s bell sounded with the quick motions she was taking.  Something about the tone sent a warm sensation through her, ready to receive a welcome request from an old friend.  Alyn’s unique voice nestled in her heart, “You should be more careful.  The floor is not as comfortable as the bed.”

Of course, Alyn knew best, she always did.  A smile threatened to come to Adora’s lips, but instead, a furrow came to her brow, why would I follow what Alyn would say? 

Alyn misinterpreted the confused look on her face, her cracked speaker said, “Why, no… you’re not dead, conduit.  When our paths crossed, you gave me a wonderful gift.”

“Whann…” Adora found she could only slur words, “yuu do-...  me?”

Alyn answered, a pleasant tone in her voice, “I’m a doctor… I’m helping you.”

Adora scowled, “Non… mor drugs…”

Alyn’s voice smiled, “No more drugs.  Alright.”  Her clammy hands carefully pushed her back onto the table, pain shooting then dulling again as she rested on her back wounds.  Adora’s expression remained suspicious at Alyn.  

Alyn’s voice teased, “I could pull all the work I did apart and let you bleed out if you really want.”

Adora shook her head, making the world spin.  

Alyn gathered a chair over to sit next to Adora.  She took out the strange bell to admire in her rosy, raw, washed hands, “Not only did you get what you wanted, but I had an opportunity to get what I have desired since I died.”  Alyn shifted how she was holding the item, letting it sound.  She pointedly looked back to Adora, “And we will continue that symbiosis now.”

The tone compelled her, of course she would help Alyn.  All she’s done so far is help her.  

“I’m… afraid I have to admit something to you here and now.  There is… a terrible malignant tumor inside of the Horde.  It winds and spins and weaves its lies hoping to hollow it out from within.  I know it’s so, for I have moved among their ranks.  I am still loyal to the Horde of course.  I move through them to learn.  Fortunately, I have not surrendered my true identity.  That’s a secret you and I share alone.  Here, I am Alyssa Nyland.”

With great difficulty and slowness Adroa answered, “We know… about the spies.”

Alyn drew back slightly, “I… didn’t realize.  Then you also know what they did… to her .”

Adora squinted.

Alyn’s hand moved the bell to her pocket, that same jangle made Adora perk up.

She probed, “Force Captain Catra, your partner.  You know what they did to her, right?”

Like the floor falling out from under her, her stomach lurched.  Scowling, she struggled to get up again but Alyn pressed her back into the bed sending shocks along her spine.  Alyn urged, “No, Adora, not yet.  You should know what I know first.  You wouldn’t stand a chance right now.”

Her breath was huffing furiously when Adora asked, “What- did they do?”

Alyn’s hand brought out of that pocket a pair of curious items.  They were rounded at the bottom but came to dangerous pinpoints with a razor edge on one other side.  Alyn said softly with her artificial voice, “I found these… trophies in Director Riven’s collection… I’m sorry.  I tested them, and they came back as Catra’s.”

Adora fought the paralyzing chemicals thrashing to get to a sitting position on the bed.  She looked from Alyn, to the objects that were being placed into her hands.  There, like tiny dark stars catching the dim lighting in the room were the unmistakable curls of Catra’s claws down to the root.  A mournful breath shuddered from her.  Her fingers felt the dangerous, razor sharpness, they blurred from her tear welled eyes.  No sooner had the tears come they come, they left, replaced before a reforged fury in her expression.  Her tight lipped glare came to look at Alyn, “He is going to die.”

Alyn’s speaker replied eerily calm, “Yes… yes he is and I know just how he will.”

Adora’s world was swirling between the drugs and the anger in her throat, “What do you know?” she demanded.

Alyn was calm, patient, “I’ve looked into her file.  This cabal, this cancer, that the horde is suffering from keeps its own files.  They called it ‘skinning the cat’ I-...  I wish it wasn’t such a literal name.”

Adora’s body was quaking with rage now.  She gripped at Alyn’s shoulder painfully, her voice dipped deep and dark, “What… did they do to her?”

Alyn’s clavicle popped its cartilage under Adora’s tightening grip, it drew her attention as she said hurriedly, “Th-they took their agent and used GeneShift to give her Catra’s likeness!  They gave her her skin after they disposed of her!  A-Adora, you’re hurting me.”

Adora growled, “Who did this?  Who is in this Cabal!?”

Alyn twisted futility trying to escape, “I-I don’t know them all, Adora, please, calm down.  If we strike them right now we will miss some of them.  The tumor has metastasized, taking out the inner circle will leave parts of the cabal untouched!”

Adora shook Alyn, “You give me names, NOW!”

The doctor spouted, “Director Riven of course!  Director Nalla too!  Force captain Veryx!  I know there’s more of them but I haven’t learned who they are!  Please! Let me go!”

The information tracked with what Adora knew.  She shoved Alyn’s shoulder away who instantly rubbed it, testing for functioning.  Her hand moved to her pocket with the bell again, the quiet muffled noise it made Adora primed to listen.  Alyn explained, “The horde needs a leader right now who can root out the cabal thoroughly.  The net must be wide, but perfect in its filter, it will function as a purge but none shall see it as that.”

It sounded reasonable, Adora instructed, “Go on…”

“It will be a test of loyalty, “Alyn continued, “Those who are true to the Horde that will follow orders, and those who would hesitate.”

Adora’s eyes narrowed

The doctor’s speaker was quiet, deliberate, “There is a chemical called Ares.  Dryl built it to make soldiers out of civilians, but we abandoned it.  It was successful, removing hesitation, doubt, while surging adrenaline, and serotonin as necessary until an order was executed.”

She let the words hang, letting Adora process.

“We don’t use it.” Alyn said, “We need only offer it.”

Adora’s brows crunched.  Alyn’s artificial speaker spoke as soft as it could, explaining, “The cabal won’t take it.  They can’t .  They need the option to refuse and that’s the snare.”

Adora took a moment to study the doctor’s shining copper mask, noticing her twisted reflection therein.  Adora focused on the circle at the crown of its forehead.  She was drawn to its shape instead when that quiet sound of a bell focused her.  Adora asked, “Then what?”

Alyn said, “We then assign them to a humanitarian mission in Dryl,” Alyn waved dismissively, “Some kind of attitude shift operation, we let them settle in, feel secure and then… we send the order: kill the civilians”

Adora’s brows raised in an instant but the quiet chime sounded again… perhaps Alyn could explain, “Kill… innocents?”

Alyn stayed still a moment, which amplified the soft, wet noise that came from where her throat passed breath.  Finally she said, “There are no innocent people in Dryl left.”

Adora squinted in disbelief.

Alyn leaned in slightly, her cracked speaker projected a gentle, firm voice, “They were given weeks to evacuate.  They chose to stay.  They chose Entrapta and the board of directors’ lies over the Horde’s mercy.  If they are there, it is by their own willful ignorance.”

Adora’s stomach turned, “I-... I’m not sure.”

Alyn’s head perked to the side much like a bird, the bell chimed again, “The guilty should be punished, correct?”

Of course they should.  Not only that, she trusted Alyn.  She always did, but the idea of sending that order to kill the remaining population of Dryl… that wasn’t her, it just wasn’t .  She looked back up to Alyn, “But they’re non-combatants.”

Alyn drifted back from Adora’s space, a brighter chime came from her focusing the vice general again, “Even if they are, they have shown us resistance through their inaction. They believed Entrapta over all empirical evidence to not.”

Adora huffed looking down, “I just… I wish there was some kind of proof here.”

Alyn let a hand leave her clipboard and gestured to Adora’s lap, “The proof is there.  Those claws you hold is direct evidence of what letting rogue agents through your ranks will cause.  What they would turn the Horde into.”

Adora’s eyes were low, they flicked from side-to-side.  Her fingertips ran along the rounded curve of magicat natural weapons.  Their sharpness tested her skin.  Finally, Adora’s eyes closed, a grim expression came to her features as she looked back up into the reflective copper. 

Chapter 15: Capgras

Summary:

Catra confronts Adora about the Hellbent Initiative.

They have visions.

Brightmoon learns about the humanitarian effort about to happen in Dryl.

Glimmer and bow share a vision as well. Decide to reach out to Adora since she was in the vision.

Catra goes back to Entrapta, forcing her to help escape the Fright Zone.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rentoNxY6RA

Her schedule said that she would be here.  Catra looked at the files neatly arranged in the Horde meeting room, the long table had seven chairs, one folder apiece.  In all her time in the Horde she had never been early for a meeting, but today, she needed to be.  She sat in the dark, her yellow and blue eyes gleaming in the almost pitch.  She flipped to the last page of her folder.  Operation Hellbent stared her in the face.  She was familiar with the Physical Readiness Index assigned to each member of the Horde.  She had always been comfortably on the right side of the curve, where the elite enjoyed third tier commissions.  But the new curve put her just below the new standard.  At the bottom of the page below the charts sat bold lines on the page, a simple disclaimer… a choice.  

 

The hellbent initiative is entirely optional, soon to be distributed into the ranks of the Horde beginning with Force captains and above.  There are no consequences for declining participation.

 

Catra’s fingertips trembled.  She was right .  The royal was right.   The statistics driven Force Captains would applaud at the end of the meeting, flourish their names and think nothing of this.  There was nothing about the addictive nature of what Hellbent was going to do to them.  

The door opened.  Of course it was Adora that flicked on the light.  The two met eyes.  Not as friends, nor rivals, but as strangers sizing each other up.  Catra studied Adora.  Her shoes clacked on the floor as she moved to the head of the table.  Adora was dressed for command, not for the battlefield.  Her usually wild hair was pulled tight back to her skull, a few defiant twists at the top of her brow refused to comply with the hair tie that bound it.  A few silver plates ran along her shoulders, the one on her right had the Vice General rank neatly embossed into it.  Her silver command scarf was wrapped around her neck and tossed over the opposite shoulder of her rank.  Covering her chest was a crisp, white business shirt that was covered by a dark black vest that showed the Horde wings when they caught the light just right.  The vest ended in a belt and simple black slacks.  

Catra opened with jest, “The front of your hair is doing that thing again.”

Adora steepled her hands on the folder in front of her, she jabbed back, “Are you so late from your last meeting that you just decided to wait for this one?”

The tension built between them in silence, like a coiling spring.  Catra pointedly closed her folder that was at the last page.  She asked directly, “Have you signed it yet?”

“Of course I signed it.” Adora was answering before she finished, 

“WHY!?” Catra slapped the table.

“Because it will serve the Horde! ” Adora leaned forward rapidly firing back

Catra shouted back, “Without even seeing what it will do first!?”

Adora replied, “Without needless questions .  The science council is confident, therefore I am confident.”

Catra hissed, “Listen to you!  Adora!  If you’re on this thing already, it’s dangerous!”

Adora answered, “And why is that?”

Catra shot back, “Because it steals away who you are!”

Adora dug in, “And what makes you say that?”

Catra’s words caught in her throat, she couldn’t say that she learned it from the royal.  Catra’s voice broke as she begged, “Adora… please, for me.  Stop taking it.”

Adora felt her pulse in her ears.  The deflection confirmed everything. Adora settled back, appearing to take the heartfelt plea to heart, “Alright, Catra.”  She smoothed the folder in front of her, “Can you tell me who told you about the side effects?”

“Th-...” Catra paused, thinking, “Riven…” Catra lied, “Director Riven.”

Adora kept studying her.  Catra knew that Riven was on the list of possible disloyal members of the Horde.  They worked that operation together.  The silence in the air made Catra squint.  She finally protested, “What!?”

Adora’s lips thinned, she crinkled her brow. She pointedly said, “How did you find me so quickly in Brightmoon?”

A new, confused, “What?” came from Catra

Adora tilted her head, explaining, “Isn’t it really convenient that before my body was even cold, you knew where I was, and how to get to me.”

Catra looked like she had just been struck, “What!?  What are you talking about?  Are you seriously mad that I didn’t abandon you there?  I needed to find you to make sure you were safe! ”

Adora pitched her head, lips tight, arms folding in front of her.  

Catra leaned forward, throwing a hand to the side, “ Why are you turning this on me?   What did I ever do to you to deserve this?”

Reflexively Adora started to quote the prisoner protocols, “The first duty of a prison-”  She cut herself off.  Adora’s mind wandered to the horrific pain that must have happened to make this thing that was in front of her.  How much suffering-  

Adora unfolded her arms, her tone tight, “You know what the first duty is.”

She pointed at Catra’s folder, making things simple, “Are you going to be participating in the treatments?”

Frustrated tears burned in Catra’s eyes.  She swiped her folder off the table, “All I’m doing is clinging to broken glass right now, aren’t I?  You’ve really given up on us, I’m just another soldier now.”  Her voice pitched into a shriek, “And all because Hordak said it was over!?”

Adora thought, ‘I suppose that makes your plans of manipulating me that much harder, doesn’t it?’   All Adora outwardly did was tilt her head slightly up to glare at whatever this thing was.  

Catra held the icy stare.  She remembered how hurtful the last time that she was stared down like this by Adora.  It was right after they came back from that other universe where everything was perfect.  She knew then that she was at Adora’s limit then, there was no going back to the way things were.  Now she was at the same spot and she didn’t even know why.  

 

… Other universe?  No, Catra didn’t remember that.  

Instead: 

 

Catra sneered, “I can’t believe that I thought that talking to you now would make a difference.  Can’t believe that I even cared if you were or weren’t being pumped full of drugs to do their bidding.” Catra bolted to her feet sending her chair somersaulting behind herself leaving a dent in the wall, “Fuck this, and fuck you.” 

Catra marched out of the room almost slamming into a force captain that was early for the meeting.  

The new force captain was asking her something, but it was all cottony noise.  Adora was truly alone.  Her eyes closed painfully, reminding herself ‘ It’s not really Catra’ .  Adora had heard terrible things on the battlefield, death knells, breaking of flesh and bone.  It twisted her stomach thinking that Catra had to make those noises under their knives.  It was horrifically easy to imagine what they did.  What were Catra’s last thoughts?  Did she blame Adora for being the worst commander ever?  When did it even happen?  Were they thoughts of betrayal?  That she was abandoned because of Adora’s incompetence?  There was never going to be answers to these questions.  She couldn’t do anything to get those answers short of exposing the cabal and extracting the answers from their vile tongues.  There was only one way to truly make that happen.

Now she had to fight this monster that looked just like her.  Deep inside she knew that she could-... 

 

Yes.  She could kill this imposter 

 

Yes, she could kill that thing that wore the mask forged out of the mutilation of the one she loved.  She would make them pay.  

Bow and Glimmer stood in the expansive mezzanine.  The room was cavernous, with high, arched windows letting in streams of natural light.  Pastel sculptures lined the walls, their delicate forms now contrasting with the harsh reality of their mission.  Above them, a dual-rotating orbital chandelier cast intricate patterns of light and shadow.  Bow’s eyes lingered on the chandelier that bordered on spectacle.  He tried to remember when it was commissioned and if those resources could have been spent on trying to turn the tide against the now overwhelming forces of the Horde.  Tall arches were constructed long ago, before the conflict, when times were peaceful.  His heart yearned to return to that one day.  He approached the console, rays of light outside touched one side of his face, luminating it bright.  

The end of the mezzanine, where he stood with his wife, had a monitor that had risen from a side table.  The main screen held a shadowy figure.  Supplemental displays held tactical positioning information, squad statuses paired with their loadout and ordinance capabilities.  This was where Bow felt burdened most by the weight of the war.  Men and lives were reduced to simple readouts, every time he looked at the numbers he had to remind himself that these were real people, his people that were standing in his place.  This was also the place where he would learn of peace first should it come to pass.  

The image on the main screen was shrouded in shadow, partly because of the dim room that he was calling from but crucially, it was to hide his identity should the transmission become intercepted.  The figure’s voice was clearly changed by a modulator as it spoke, “I’m reporting a shift in the Horde’s focus.  Brightmoon is to be besieged until further notice, no strikes will happen for another week while they pivot their efforts into Dryl’s kingdom.”

“Why Dryl?” Glimmer asked, “Why not complete their operation against Brightmoon?  It doesn’t make any sense at all!”

The figure shifted, “That much I don’t know exactly, something about it being tactically advantageous to now break the siege.  Adora’s strike teams from Brightmoon are moving back there to switch to something called the: “Humanitarian and Attitude Shift Operation”.  The Horde is going to begin distributing massive amounts of aid to their people.  I think they mean to gain complete control over the board of directors and begin post-war operations.”

Bow stared blankly at the reporter.  A long pause dragged into two, then three.  The contact spoke again, “The preliminaries state that there is going to be a great outpouring of resources into the city, food, tools, buyouts of projects that had stalled in their bureaucracy.  We have about seven people already engaged in the operation.  With so much resources going into the city they’re likely not going to notice if a few pallets go missing.”  

Bow just kept watching the distance past the console.  Glimmer, recognizing the distant gaze in her husband, realized that he was completely checked out.  She spoke, “That’s good news, make sure that we capitalize on this new mission.  Get as many people as you can into this operation and begin using the underground channels to get the supplies back to us.  We will make contact in another week to see progress.”

Wordlessly their contact closed the channel.  

Glimmer touched his shoulder making Bow shudder back to where they were.  His expression turned sorrowful from the blank stare.  His voice cracked, “We’re not even a threat anymore.” His eyes widened, “Were we ever a threat?  Once they sweep Dryl into their control, then they’re going to come for us.  They’re going to sack Brightmoon and take us away.  They’re-”

Glimmer shook him, “Bow!  Stop it!  We can’t think like that.  We have to lead our people.”

“Why!?” he blurted, “Nothing we do matters anymore!  The Horde has won!”

Glimmer stood tall over him, “So after all this time, that’s all it took?  Dryl falling?  Bow, we have thousands of people to protect in Brightmoon!  They need to look at us and see leadership.  They need hope.”  She gestured to the side, “Didn’t you listen to Angella?  If we give up on hope, the Horde has already won.”

Bow looked down but she could tell that she was starting to get to him, “What about the people that still stand with us in the city, what about the people who laid down their lives for peace!  We’ve lost so much.  We have to make that mean something!”

Bow quieted, Glimmer was right.  His mind put on hold the many horrible things that were in front of them watching Glimmer’s literally sparkling expression.  His hand came up to tenderly hold her face.  “In my last moments.” He said, “I will be thinking of you.”

Glimmer shook her head out of his grasp, she pointed at him, “Stop talking like that, Bow!”

She was trying to shut him off, but she was wrong.  Wrong for wanting to use the weapon so recklessly, “We don’t even know what it’s going to do, Glimmer.  If we use the heart of Etheria it could spiral completely out of control.  

Glimmer balked, “The what?  What are-”

Bow cut her off, the words tumbling out too fast.  “There’s an unstable mass of magic in the center of the planet!  Everyone is at risk if we don’t get Entrapta to shut it down!” His voice was rising, as if he couldn’t stop himself.

Glimmer stared at him, taken aback, “What?  There is?”

Bow blinked, his own words catching up to him.  He faltered.  What was he saying?  The uncertainty flickered across his face as he tried to understand the sudden shift in his own mind.

Glimmer winced, but pressed on, trying to make sense of his outburst.  “Even if there was… do you really think that murderer could be trusted with it?”

Bow argued, “You’re not listening to reason.  Unless we save her from-...”

Glimmer squinted, she knew that he was right somehow.  She thought she knew the next words, “From… beast island?”

They silently stared at each other for a long moment.

 

Entrapta isn’t there though.  You enacted justice on her and Dryl.

 

Bow shook his head, “I’m… I’m sorry… This is really getting to me.”

Glimmer shook her head, “No… we had that argument before.  I wasn’t listening to you or-..” Glimmer’s eyes widened, “Or Adora at the time.  I was making a big mistake.”

Bow quietly added his fragments of the vision, “She was arguing with you too.  I-...  I can’t believe it, I took her side.  We both cared so much about you.”

Glimmer nodded, “I felt betrayed, like you were both ganging up on me after I trusted you.”

“Maybe…” He chuckled, barely believing his own suggestion.  “Maybe, instead of Entrapta we need to talk to Adora again.  We did let her leave after all, Adora owes us.  Maybe she is going through these visions too?”

Glimmer chortled, “Are you hearing yourself right now?”

Bow’s eyes just darted down and then back to her.  Silently letting the vision that they just shared speak for itself.  

Glimmer refined, “I can’t believe it either… I’ll start arranging a meeting.”

Catra marched down yet another hallway, adorned with wood-clap pannels and grey paint.  Her core was trembling with fury.  That really happened.  Adora just stared her down, she let her leave.  She didn’t care .  Catra stomped along hallway after hallway aimlessly.  She thought about going to Lonnie, thought about going to Hordak, hell she even thought about marching to Kyle.  None of them would offer anything.  She might get a pit fight out of it but nobody she knew would really get what’s happening.  Adora was really lost, all she knew was duty, she really made her choice.  Each time it surfaced it seemed to sting harder.  Her mind was quickly becoming fed up with all these people that thought of nothing but the glory of the horde.  Doesn’t anyone think about where they actually are in this mindless machine?  Adora was just throwing her life away and for what? 

 

 

It was her voice.  She knew It was pivotal… but why?  She had to save–... save ‘her’?  But who?  Really the only person that seemed to care about what this machine was doing to people was… 

 

She was back at the ancient concrete bunker where they were holding Entrapta.  If she was going to run, it only made sense to take her with.  She was a technical genius, an ex director of Dryl, she could be useful in so many ways… She had shot Adora… Still, somehow she knew deep inside her that this royal could help fix things.  

“Hey!” She shouted at the closed iron cell door.  

Entrapta’s red eyes closed, heart sinking.  She shifted on the dirty cot sheets, setting her elbows on her knees.  The girl repeated, “Hey!  Are you dead in there yet?”

Entrapta’s voice was only loud enough to push through the door, flat and tired, “You know for having such big ears, you don’t listen real well, do you?”

The food slot on the door opened and something was shoved through landing solidly without a second bounce on the floor.  It was one of her Halo headbands, the second landed with a thud next to it.  

She squinted but it didn’t make sense on any level.  She shouted through the door, “‘The fuck is this?”

Catra shouted back, “It’s ‘the fuck’ your headband machines.  I’m-...  I’m taking you with me.”

Entrapta slid over to the halos looking them over with a careful eye for traps.  She shouted back, “Why?”

Catra hesitated on the other side of the door.  Entrapta stood to her height and was starting to tie her hair back with the first halo when she finally got her answer, “You’re more valuable alive than dead and-...”

When she trailed off, the engineer waited, then gathered the other in her hand, its sequencer already starting to pulse along the purple focusing gemstones.  

The girl continued, “and because you’re a prisoner, I don’t have to explain anything to you.”

Entrapta finished tying the pigtail together weighing what that all could mean.  She guessed, “Is it like an honor thing?  You know my halos can also be weapons so you’ve given me a fighting chance?  I don’t expect any different treatment than the people I’ve killed while they were bound and helpless.”

Catra shouted back, “Why are you so convinced that I’m going to be the one to kill you?  I gave you your headbands back and you’re going to be coming with me.”

Entrapta’s lips thinned considering that she still hasn’t had her ‘why’ question adequately answered.  She tried a different angle, “So what am I going to be doing that makes me more valuable alive than dead?”

Catra answered, “You’re going to be following me!  Just stop asking questions.”

The woman shrugged and let a smirk touch one side of her face.  She let her voice quiet to conversational, “Well okay then…”

Silence followed.  Then a moment more.  Entrapta asked, “So are you going to open the door?”

Catra was quiet for yet another moment before she said with a sneer, “No!  You’re going to open it like you did all the other jail doors.”

Well that didn’t add up.  Entrapta folded her arms and said flatly, “Yuh huh…”

When the same silence settled she gave a helpless shrug and moved closer to the seam of the closed cell door…

 

Entrapta’s hair bled out of the other side of the door growing longer and longer along the wall feeling around like slime mold until it discovered the lock, once it did all the strands shunted to the three locks and popped them open with no more difficulty than ration bar packaging.  Their function finished, the purple hair flowed back behind the door and then it opened, revealing the beaten and bloody body of Entrapta.  At her temple, Entrapta had crusted blood mixed with fresh.  The thin river ran along a purple, black, and red cheek.  Her lips were puffy on one side, further bruises ran all along her shoulder and biceps.  A ring of red was along her forearm silently telling the story of some kind of torture device that was once was strapped to her.  The engineer was looking expectedly at the girl with folded arms that were rugged from years of manual labor.  A doubtful expression was on her face despite the injuries.  She prompted, “So where are we going?”

The force captain blinked out of her gawk of the grimy, damaged woman.  She glared at Entrapta, “You’re a prisoner.  Stop asking questions.”

Entrapta nodded, bringing a hand up to her chin an amused expression rising on her face as she spoke, “Right, right… I’m a prisoner that had to break out of her own cell and I’m supposed to be following you without questions.  Let me ask one last one though.  Is part of the plan getting you out of here?”

Catra kept her ferocity and tipped only a little bit of the plan, “For now…”

Entrapta flexed her brows, “Good enough for me.”

Chapter 16: Not Yet.

Summary:

Catra and Entrapta try to escape the fright zone.

Entrapta gets distracted by a top.

Alyn and Entrapta finally talk.

Catra meets up with Entrapta.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GV8JIhTmPVw

The streets of the Fright Zone were a labyrinthine network of dark metal and synthetic composites, framed by towering buildings that loomed ominously over the narrow pathways.  The air was thick with a mix of industrial fumes and the faint scent of burnt circuits, creating a suffocating atmosphere.

Buildings lined the deserted streets, their exteriors a patchwork of sleek, polished black surfaces and grimy, worn patches that hinted at hasty maintenance.  Neon lights flickered sporadically, casting an eerie glow that barely penetrated the perpetual twilight created by the dense smog overhead.  Sharp angles and asymmetrical designs gave each structure a menacing appearance, their jagged silhouettes blending into a chaotic skyline.

Holographic billboards projected propaganda messages and surveillance warnings, their bright images a stark contrast to the darkness that enveloped the city.  “Order Through Strength” and “Crush the Rebellion” flashed repeatedly, reminding any stray onlookers of their place under constant watch.  Smaller, personal advertisements for black-market goods and services occasionally flickered in the shadows, a testament to the underlying desperation.

The streets themselves were a mix of reinforced glass and metal grating, creating a disorienting patchwork beneath Catra and Entrapta’s cautious steps.  Exposed wiring snaked along the ground and walls, occasionally sparking as they powered the myriad of automated systems embedded in the cityscape.  Once or twice they stopped each other from going forward to avoid security drones that hovered through the streets overhead.  Each had a glowing malevolent red eye carefully looking for those that were breaking curfew… like them.  

They moved swiftly and silently through the shadows.  They navigated the maze of alleyways and side streets, avoiding the glaring eyes of the security drones and the watchful cameras.  The market stalls, hastily erected from scraps of metal and plastic, stood abandoned, their vendors and wares hidden away from the oppressive gaze of the Horde.

Their flight from the prison was painfully obvious that it was not sanctioned.  They hadn’t interacted with a single guard, now they were literally skulking the streets.  Entrapta couldn’t hold her thoughts in.  She teased, “I’m guessing all this subterfuge and avoiding the guard is all a part of an assessment of my abilities.”

Catra hissed, “Would you shut up?  You’re going to alert one of the drones.”

Entrapta squinted thinking, “If you guys are using gen 4 microphones they’re going to have a hard time picking up anything like talking over their engin-”

Catra turned and pointed at her in warning, glaring dangerously.

Entrapta grinned out of the good side of her mouth, “ None of that was a question.  I’m being a good girl.”

Catra rolled her eyes, darting back into the street.  

Their brisk, silent strides continued until Entrapta paused, dragging her steel toed boot along the ground, coming to a stop.  There, across the street, wobbled a golden top.  She felt anxiety clutch her chest.  A moment later, Catra was grabbing Entrapta’s bruised arm, quietly scolding, “What’s wrong with you??  There’s no cover here!”

Entrapta looked back at her seriously and pointed at the object, “That… thing should be in Dryl.  I think we should check it out.”

Catra looked across the road to see the slightly vibrating top.  She scoffed, “It’s just a child’s toy, get going!”

But Entrapta knew better.  The toy-like top was really an upscaled prototype of a self-winding gyroscope, once designed as a power source for a beta version of her halo hairpiece.  Someone with access to her private quarters had moved it here.  This wasn’t a coincidence—it was a message.

“Wait here,” she whispered, stepping toward it with a growing sense of unease.

Entrapta cautiously approached the top, its golden surface wobbling strangely on the pavement.  Just as she reached it, the object tilted unnaturally, bouncing up the two-inch curb with a sudden jerk.  Entrapta paused, her breath catching as the top’s skipping cadence led it deeper into the alley.

“Entrapta, wait!” Catra’s hissed whisper followed from behind, but Entrapta ignored it, her curiosity overriding her caution.

The top stopped abruptly, spinning in place.  Entrapta knelt down to examine it, only for it to burst open with a sharp snap.  She barely had time to scream as piano wire wrapped around her limbs, biting deep into her biceps and throat.  She twisted instinctively, her hair puffing out in an attempt to free her, but it was no use—the wires tightened like a vice, forcing her to curl in on herself and slam painfully onto the ground.

Catra’s footsteps echoed nearby, but Entrapta was already being yanked backward, her body scraping across the grimy pavement.  She choked on a strangled breath, her throat constricted by the tightening wires.  Desperation surged as she threw her head back, trying to catch a glimpse of Catra.  She saw her racing into the alley, but Entrapta’s body was whipped around a corner and hoisted into the air before she could call out.

Dangling upside down, Entrapta’s vision blurred as she gasped for air.  She could see Catra searching frantically below, so close yet completely oblivious to her predicament.  Look up! Entrapta’s thoughts screamed, but her voice wouldn’t obey—the wire was too tight.  After a curse Catra dashed forward, turning the corner deeper into the alleyway.  

‘Stupid…’ she thought.  Her attention moved around as she helplessly drifted clockwise upside-down.  Finally, she noticed a figure perched on the fire escape above her.  A woman in a copper mask leaned casually against the railing, its expressionless features watching Entrapta.  

Entrapta sneered, she found she could force her voice through her throat if quietly, “How did you get Alyn’s top?  What the hell did you do to it!?”

The woman’s voice crackled out of the low quality speaker, “You never could see me, could you, princess?  Even when I was right in front of you, I was always in this enormous blind spot that didn’t let you see me for who I was.”

The lab coat, the blonde hair, it could only be… “A-Alyn?” Entrapta’s voice rasped out in disbelief, though it was barely more than a strained whisper.

The copper mask tilted slightly, and a familiar blonde ponytail snaked forward, wrapping around Entrapta’s head, pulling her closer.  “Yes.” The voice from the mask amplified and distorted what Entrapta just said, “A-Alyn?”

Tears welled in Entrapta’s eyes.  “You’re dead ,” she whispered, her voice breaking under the weight of the realization.

The dark lighting of the alleyway seemed to shimmer across the copper.  Her speaker grimly replied, “And you’re supposed to be in Dryl, cleaning up the horrible mess I made.”  Alyn quieted, letting the words sink in.  She continued, “I was so horrible , that the only way to fix things was to end my life.  What did that do exactly, Entrapta?  Did killing me end the suffering in Dryl?  Did it stop the people from being hungry?  Did it feed people?”

The last question settled in Entrapta’s stomach like a poison pill.  She could only swallow and tremble.  

“Let me guess what it did.” Alyn’s ponytail gripped tighter,  “Let me guess what my circus of a death did.  It made them cheer, it made the day go by faster, but by the end of the day–no let’s be generous, by the end of the week –they were back to asking you what to do about the Horde’s occupation of the entrances to Dryl.  And now you didn’t have me to talk things over with, you didn’t have your precious personified conscience to rein you in.  Did you start altering the people?  Did you start replacing their skin with chlorophyll?”

Entrapta’s voice tried to shout but was constrained by the wire, “I cried!”

Alyn’s mask pitched slightly.  The restraints loosened to hear what she wanted to say.

Entrapta ruefully said, “I was inconsolable.  I spent days alone in the dark of the throne room.”

Alyn let her words hang in the air a moment, the mask pitching back slightly, “And that’s all?  A few days in the dark weeping is the appropriate punishment for murdering your closest confidant?”

She wanted to cover her mouth, but her bound hands could do no such thing as she nakedly shuddered out a mournful sob in Alyn’s clutches.  The noise echoed in the alley back at her.  Alyn simply stood there, arms crossed over her clip board while the expressionless mask drank it all in as Entrapta’s wounds were held bare.  

Her next words were soft, reflective, like reading from a report, “The truth, Entrapta, is that your grief is as hollow as the promises you made to those people.  You wept, and yet nothing changed.  You mourned, but the dead remained dead.”

Her ponytail tightened again, pulling Entrapta just a fraction closer, emphasizing her next words.  “Because that’s all you ever were—a brilliant mind trapped in a cycle of mistakes.  Fix one thing, break another.  Always too smart to stop, but never smart enough to see the consequences.”

“I’m so sorry!” she sniveled, “I-”

It was all she could get out before Alyn’s hand violently snatched Entrapta’s face.  Her ruined throat made a horrific rage-fueled barking noise.  Her speaker viscerally shouted, “NOT YET!”

The sudden movements shocked fear through Entrapta halting her sobs.  They returned as the fury trembling behind Alyn’s neck subsided.  She let Entrapta back to dangle by the piano wire.  

The doctor looked down to her clipboard, finding the next topic.  Her tinny voice simply moved on, “Tell me, why are we on Pyroarc Mark 5c bullets?  Mark 2 was blueprints when I died.” Her mask looked back to Entrapta.  

Entrapta’s eyes widened, “How did-” then stammered, “I was hurting–”

Alyn interrupted her again, “You were hurting.”  She paused letting that moment hang, she didn’t need to say anything else.

Entrapta stayed quiet, terrified to add anything else.

Alyn tilted her head slightly, her voice dripping with cold observation.  “Hurting,” she said once more.  “Yes, you always did retreat to your machines when you were hurting.  But tell me, Entrapta—how far does that rationalization go?  You bury yourself in work, cut out the world around you, and suddenly the suffering of others is just…” Alyn wiggled her fingers horizontally, “background noise.”

She paused, the speaker starting to replay the crowd noises during compare and contrast day, a quiet drone of ‘we’re hungry!  Stop stalling!  Give us the food!’ the chilling moments tore at Entrapta’s heart.  Her lips quivered over her raw voice begging, “Stop-...  stop it!”

Alyn stopped, switching back to her grim diagnosis, “It makes me wonder… is that what genius really looks like?  Or is it something darker?  Something more...disturbed?  After all, only someone truly disconnected could inflict suffering and call it progress.”

Entrapta’s broken voice begged, “Why are you doing this?  What happened to you?”

Alyn ignored the questions, “You’re trying to change the topic to escape having to answer for what you’ve done to your people.”

Entrapta set her jaw unable to come up with anything to defend herself.  Her bruised lips curled into a smirk, trying to access her old friend, “It’s… it’s creepy when you do that.  It’s like you know exactly what I’m thinking.”

The mask slowly drifted back and forth as she said, “You really think… you really think that I’m just picking up on your inflections and nonverbal cues still.  Maybe I need to re-evaluate your brilliance.  You’re literally upside down and bound.  What could I possibly be reading right now?”

Entrapta squinted, guessing, “You’re… actually psychic ?”

Alyn’s ruined face pulled in a breath, exhaling wetly.  She brought a hand up to her Halo Hairpiece winking through its green glowing sequence.  She gave it a steady tap, “I’ve known your thoughts for years.  When I told you, ‘you never thought of me, only the project’, it wasn’t a platitude.  It was empirical.  evidence .”

Entrapta’s expression widened in shock thinking back to the horrible nightmare shadow of Alyn’s office in Eclypse Labs.  She remembered how Alyn was completely unafraid to face her end and turn it into another introspection of her own character.  Entrapta’s mind rolled over itself to try and understand, “Why are you telling me this, Alyn?”

The doctor leaned close again, Entrapta saw her dim, warped reflection in the polished copper inches away from her.  Alyn’s speaker said, “You’re going to suffer, Entrapta, and I want you to know that it is all because of who you are.  This will be justice.  Yes, I do it out of personal spite, but it will be tempered with calculated precision.  Your debt to me will be paid in full.  When it’s over there will be no hate left in me.  You will be left to make your own choice of what punishment is appropriate.”

Alyn’s blank mask tilted one more time, her rosy knuckled pale hand came out to gingerly brush along Entrapta’s bruised cheek.  

She replayed Entrapta’s own nervous voice from just now through her cracked speaker, “Why are you telling me this, Alyn?”  

Alyn answered her own question with another recording, her voice from ages ago when they were working on Chimera, “I’m a doctor, I help people!”

With that, Entrapta felt her world shifting again.  She was being lowered back down to the dirty alleyway floor, her red eyes were locked on her once-friend whose expressionless mask was locked on her.  Entrapta felt herself laid down onto the grimy filth as someone might place a fragile keepsake.  The top unwound its bindings and hopped away.  At the same time, Alyn’s ponytail grasped the lip of the roof she stood near.  Her mask looked to the guard rail of the fire escape and then sent her foot purposefully against it, sending a loud bang that would surely bring Catra back.  Despite her new freedom, Entrapta limply watched the rolling smog overhead, defeated.  

She laid there, the bleak night noises of the Fright Zone blending into a distant hum.  Alyn’s words nestled all too well in her mind, they were an inescapable truth.  After Alyn’s death, despite all her efforts, the only thing that she could think of improving was weaponry—how to help people kill.  If this damn world was so bent on destroying beauty, she would serve that purpose, not by choice, but because it was the only choice left.  She could feel the thought twisting roots inside her, growing into a constant feedback loop of misery.  The first thing to interrupt her voluntary coma were quick footsteps approaching.  

Catra skidded into her view, her sharp voice cutting through the fog.  “What the hell are you doing?” she hissed, dropping down beside her.  She grabbed Entrapta by the shoulders and shook her roughly.  “Get up! You’d better not be hurt!”

Entrapta blinked, her red eyes sluggishly focusing on Catra.  “I’m…” Her voice trailed off, unable to find the words.

Catra’s tail swished angrily behind her as she glared down at her.  “We don’t have time for this.  Can you walk or not?”

Entrapta’s chest tightened, her breathing shallow and unsteady.  The weight of what just happened, of Alyn’s beyond-the-grave presence, her impossible accusations, it all pressed down on her.  She felt as though the wires were still wrapped around her, suffocating her.  Slowly, she managed to nod, though her limbs still felt disconnected from her mind.

“I… can walk,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Catra stared at her for a moment, her irritation wavering as she took in Entrapta’s hollow expression.  She muttered something under her breath, and then, with a rough pull, yanked Entrapta to her feet.

“Good, then get moving,” she snapped, though her voice softened just a little as she added, “We’ve been here too long already.”

As they moved deeper into the Fright Zone, Catra kept glancing back at her, her earlier frustration giving way to quiet concern.  But Entrapta didn’t seem to notice.  She just kept walking, lost in the weight of her thoughts.

Chapter 17: A Lyte Military Dryl

Summary:

The Horde breaks the siege of Dryl establishing a base camp in courtly commons square.

Glimmer and Bow have a conversation with Adora about the visions they've all been having.

Warren comes home. Finds he has a guest.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=asb5_xXRhQ8

The plan was simple: break the siege.  

The back of the transport burst open letting in the bright sunlight of Dryl.  Courtly Commons square was a strange visual blend.  Medieval storefronts were built out of the side of crisp and sharp angled bunker-like concrete buildings.  Behind them were the mega towers that the city had constructed during its tech boom.  Interwoven with them were trees struggling to establish themselves, strategically planted trees and bright in their autumn colors.  The civilians shouted, scrambling for cover as the horde soldiers began to take their positions.  Finally, after her honor guard had left the van she hopped out of the transport, her dark plate gleaming, contrasting against the sunny, almost cheerful day.  

The twelve transports all had peace troops swarming.  Their transports which had started out polished perfect were now partially to heavily damaged from their surge past the defenses at the front gates of Dryl.  The police officers Dryl had stationed there in the square were on display near her own transport, kneeling and in zip cuffs.  

Adora raised her voice not only to be heard by her men, but by the people of Dryl as well, “Medical tents to the north!  I want the food supplies to be unloaded by the castle gate!  Construction tools are to be handed out to craftsmen who can provide connection with the board of directors.  I want two men per diplomat when they enter the Crypto Castle!”  

As the Horde base of operations started to take shape, a group of civilians slowly but steadily gathered.  Adora took note but did not approach for half an hour.  Despite being convinced of the traitorous nature of the troops she was leading, she knew that they would hold to their orders.  They wouldn’t kill the traitors of a different cloth.  She prided herself in how well she was keeping up the act.  

A weary smile was touching her face by the time she came over to the civilians.  When their expressions remained suspicious, she selected an obvious craftsman to approach.  She wiped her brow introducing herself, “I’m Adora, Vice General of the Horde, we’re here to help you.  If you need anything at all, please let us know.”

The man sneered, holding up the parchment.  “Prove it!  You think a few crates of food will make us forget the destruction you’ve caused?  The contracts we've been forced to sign, the resources siphoned from our homes?”

Adora’s gaze hardened, “Sir, I understand how impossible this might sound, but The Horde has declared victory over Dryl.  We can either settle this with scorched earth, missiles and firearms or we can begin to help our newly acquired population.”  She gestured to the tents almost raised, “As you can see, it is our decision to pursue the latter.”

When he was distracted by looking over the events unfolding around him, Adora took the worn paper from his hands, “Consider this, another new beginning.”  She visibly tore the paper in half.

The man hesitated, his anger wavering as he watched the food crates being opened over her shoulder.  “How do we know this isn’t another ploy?  Why aren’t the new contracts going to be even more oppressive than the current ones?”

Adora continued to tear away at the contract, “Recent events have unfolded that have caught the eye of Hordak.  Dryl’s board of directors has expunged its final member of the royal family, this has pleased us.  In fact it has pleased us so much that we see no reason to continue any further suffering.  It’s all we’ve ever asked any nation.  Simply remove the absolutes and embrace a unified voice.”

The people murmured to each other reluctantly considering what she was saying.  Some of the crowd broke rank moving over to the food tent.  

She tossed the many pieces of the contract to the side much like confetti, “I don’t expect you to trust us immediately.  But we’re here to show you through our actions, not just words.  Give us a chance to prove it.”

The man’s eyes followed the papers, then at the supplies.  He harumphed with a dismissive gesture, “One boss is the same as any other.”

Adora nodded as the folks started to move around her towards the supplies and relief.  She spoke loudly as they passed, “We won’t disappoint you, I promise.”

Adora regarded the smiling faces of the men she lead that were handing out ration bar boxes tot he population.  She reminded herself of their treachery, they wouldn’t sign for Hellbent.  The more good they did here, the more the rumors would move through the spy network, the cancer inside the Horde.

Her thoughts had to pause as one of the soldiers approached her, “Message from the Alliance, Vice General.”

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ohBrVclMdo4

The forward teams had secured the Crucyble, the stark, geometric heart of the corporatocracy's power.  Its brutalist design was pristine and deliberate, each corner sharp, every hallway leading with purpose.  Here and there were thoughtful measures made to make it more inviting.  There was the occasional sitting chair, silk plant, personal picture or chart depicting the landmark additions and best days that the kingdom had.  Its windows were always narrow allowing for beams of natural light to pierce the otherwise cold interior.  The light from them reflected off white concrete and cast clean lines that struck different strategic carvings in the wall.  To the trained eye of an employee, they could even tell the time of day

Adora now found herself in one of these rooms, bathed in that strategic light that somehow lit her features soft.  The usual Entrapt-net terminal was powered off, replaced by a Horde-issued laptop already waiting for her on the streaked white and black marble table.  Its screen was open, glowing with a single line of red, blocky text: "Line secure. Press any key to begin meeting."

She hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over the keys.  Speaking with the Alliance felt like a task better suited to a diplomat, not her.  Not her at all.  She was bound to stumble into their mind games again.  Yet something tugged at her heart—a strange sense of familiarity, as if she somehow knew they wouldn't pry for information.  It felt like muscle memory, an instinct that told her this interaction might bring comfort.  But how could that be?  They couldn’t be more diametrically opposed.  Still, her gauntleted hand hovered.

She could see her reflection in the dark screen trimmed in glowing red.  She braced her weight with one hand letting her other drop thoughtlessly beginning the meeting.  She watched it connect and equalized her weight just in time for the video feed to start.  

Adora observed Bow and Glimmer together on the monitor, her expression unreadable.  Neither said anything for a beat.  

Adora broke the silence, annoyance in her voice, “This is against my better judgment, I’m only letting you contact me because you showed mercy in our last meeting.  Speak.”

Bow hesitated, the formal script he’d considered felt wrong, cold.  He could see it in her eyes.  This wasn’t the time for strategy.  Bow visibly crumpled his notes that were just off screen, tossing them to the side.  He decided to follow his heart, let his emotions lead. “Are you okay, Adora?”

Adora’s eyes squinted, jaw dropping slightly in disbelief, “Is this… a social call?”

He didn’t back down, knowing this was the only way, “You just… you look so upset right now.”

Glimmer even looked in his direction, surprise raising her brows.  

Adora’s expression hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line, “I don’t know what kind of nonsense this is, but unless you have something specific to discuss, I’m closing this channel.”

Bow’s voice broke, “Adora, I’m scared!”

Adora’s hand was already in motion but the king’s voice made her freeze.  Something in her core twisted hearing him like that.  

His voice quaked, “I don’t know what’s happening anymore.  I’ve been having visions.  We have been having visions.”  He looked to Glimmer, still watching him.  He said, “You’re in them too.  We have to know: are you seeing things that you can’t make sense of?”

Adora’s fingers twitched, her gaze narrowing as if searching their faces for any sign of deception. “No,” she muttered, shaking her head. “This is a trick.”

Glimmer spoke, “No, Adora.  I wish it was but-…” Glimmer looked at Bow a moment, since he was off script she might as well be as honest as possible too, “but we have reason to believe that they have something to do with reality being unstable.”

Adora settled her hand on the desk, “Continue…”

Bow took a breath glancing at Glimmer, going into this, they had agreed to not let any more information out than was necessary.  He knew though, that if they wanted to establish trust with Adora, the same kind that they had in the vision they would have to be open and honest.  He huffed a breath and revealed, “ Angella told us…”

Adora scoffed, “Angella is dead.”

Glimmer boldly pointed out, “Just like you.”

Adora’s eyes widened, her lips pursed.  Silence followed, thick and heavy.  Her blue eyes darted between them as the weight of Glimmer’s words sank in.

She couldn’t hide the tremble in her voice, “You… you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bow pushed, “We know that someone named Alyndrah Nulvis did something to bring you back.”

“No!  ...” Adora said more out of desperation than anything.

Glimmer’s voice pitched higher in an unmistakably familiar way, “Whatever she did, it’s caused my mother to come from the moonstone to this world.  She says that if she’s here, it’s very possible that everything is going to become unraveled.  This is bigger than us, Adora.  Bigger than our fight over this planet.  Please .  We need to meet up and make sense out of all this.”

Glimmer’s expression was desperate, “Please… for me.”

Adora’s lips went dry, her body tensed.  A desire to follow what Glimmer said sparked deep in her mind, it almost made it to Adora’s expression.  Instinct took over, the Horde’s training kicking in, hardening her, “You can’t trick me, I’m not dead right now.  Whatever magic or nonsense this is, I’m done listening.”

She wanted to shut it all out, to press the key and make it stop.  But her body wouldn’t respond. Her finger hovered over the keyboard again.  Her mind flashed to Catra—the way she had looked at her like she was a stranger, like she didn’t know her anymore.

And then she heard it. That faint, delicate chime—the one Alyn had used to steady her, to focus her.  It rang through her mind, clear and soft, cutting through the confusion.

Adora turned her expression grim.  She stared down the king and queen of Brightmoon.  She said with detached certainty, “The guilty should be punished.”

Adora silenced the channel.  

Bow could barely believe what he just saw.  He stared at the black screen mouth slightly agape with disbelief.  He asked his wife, “What just happened to her?  We were so close!”

Glimmer’s face was pale, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and sorrow, “Something’s wrong with her, Bow.  It wasn’t her in the end there.”

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JDDni07FS1Y

Warren sighed as the elevator door opened to the top floor of Domicile complex 07.  His mind was whirling figuring out all that was ahead of him.  When word had come from the front that the Horde had breached the siege, he was convinced at that moment that he would be facing the end of his life today.  He could hardly believe that within the hour they were not mass executions, but supply camps being established.  Most of his afternoon was scheduling meetings on how the annexation was to proceed.  While becoming part of the Horde was not something he was looking forward to, at least he could still come home to his family.  His heart felt warm as he caught a whiff of the spices and cooked food that hung in the air even this far away.  His footsteps echoed in the short hallway leading to his penthouse apartment. A smile touched his bearded lips, his wife was always somehow finding something delectable to turn their standard rations into palatable food.  He passed the fronded plant and punched in his code to enter the apartment.  The door hissed and he stepped in.  

The tall windows of the penthouse apartment were distant, the night sky had darkened the view, only the stars above and the stars of lit windows greeted him there.  He began to unbutton his suit coat and the top button of his shirt to begin unwinding from the grueling day.  The lamps were lit dim.  Something made him nostalgic for the days when his children would come rushing to greet him.  Now they were more interested in their screens.  He knew there would be answering questions at home too now, the same questions he had been answering all day.  He paused looking at a picture on the wall of his son in the Dryl peace officer uniform.  He took a breath, gave the picture a dutiful nod like he did every day.  

He found his way to the low couch that was recessed in the conversation pit in the living room.  Off came his shoes.  The smell of dinner was stronger now.  He called to the apartment, “I think I’m smelling… garlic and perhaps some onion.  Just how on Etheria did you get that, dear?”

He settled into the couch gathering the grey newspaper and shifting through to the business section.  He paused in mid sort realizing it was taking Elyara a long time to answer.  He shifted looking over to their table.  There, sitting in one of the settings was his daughter looking directly at him, a sweet smile on her face.  He folded the newspaper slightly, a confused look coming to his face, “Nysirra?  I thought you were going over to a friend’s house tonight.”

No response.

He cleared his throat and tried again, “Nyssira? Everything alright?”

Still no response. Her smile stayed fixed, her gaze unnervingly steady. Warren's brow furrowed. Maybe she was just lost in thought, but that sweet smile felt almost too perfect, too still.

“Sweetheart?” he tried, forcing a chuckle, hoping she'd snap out of it. His hand froze halfway through setting down the paper.

Then he realized it—she wasn’t blinking.

He shifted then from the couch, his shoeless feet moving across the carpeting and back up from the conversation pit.  From how he was angled he could only see the edge of the table and his daughter.  Her gaze was tracking his every movement, and it was making his stomach turn into knots.  His voice rose with unease, “Sweetie what’s-... wrong.”  

The rest of the table revealed itself as he came closer.  There before him it was perfectly set.   Each fork, each setting was set equidistant from each other.  The silverware was mechanically perfect, at 90 degree positions from the edge of the table.  Each of the wine glasses held water and were portioned out perfectly to the ounce.  He looked to his wife sitting at her place at the table as well.  He felt panic rise to his throat as she watched him with the same intensity of their daughter.  A plastic smile on her face showed the slightest glimmer of her white teeth.  

They had a guest at the head of the table where he normally sat.  She wore her white lab coat and copper mask with all the regalness of a twisted monarch.  She held the corners of the table with pale hands.  The mask shimmered malevolently in the dim lighting as she pitched her head ever so slightly.  

Her cracked speaker broke the unnerving silence, “Don’t be rude, see to your husband, Mrs. Granite.”

The command made the woman shift, robotically she moved back and came to her feet, all the while her empty eyes bore holes into Warren’s heart.  

He shuddered, overwhelmed with what was happening as she came close.  He sputtered, “who-... what-...” 

The husk of his wife drew near and she wrapped him up in an embrace.  Her welcome home kiss brushed his cheek and she stepped back, again blankly watching him as she took steps to a chair and pulled it out for him to sit.

Warren sputtered some more before locking eyes on the creature that had invaded his home.  Perhaps it was in the anxiety, the gripping nausea that let him recognize her.  “Alyn?” his voice quivered.  

She shifted from gripping the table, gesturing to the seat, “Sit down, Warren.  We are about to become a very potent team.”

He broke suddenly, grabbing his wife’s shoulders, shaking her helplessly, “Ancients, Elyara!  Snap out of it!”

Alyn’s tinny speaker warned, “Warren…”

He shoved her to the side, quickly grabbing one of the knives on the table, brandishing it in the doctor’s direction, “No!  No!  You stop this right now!  You’re dead! ”

Her speaker cut back barking, “And you’re holding a blunt knife, the food is getting cold and I have changed the nature of your family’s cognitive abilities.”  She shifted in her seat coming to rise to his height with the subtle aid of her animated blonde ponytail, “Now are we going to shout the obvious at each other longer, or are you going to take. your. seat?! ”

Warren’s fear boiled into a reckless lunge. She moved effortlessly, sidestepping the wild strike, her body flowing with an eerie, sudden calm. He stumbled past Alyn as her hand slid into her pocket, releasing a small spinning top.  In a fluid motion, her other hand revealed her scalpel, ending in a glowing green laser.

He came at her again, wild-eyed, swinging with more rage than aim. She took another step back, kicking her chair out of the way, tumbling it over. The top whirred, its speed building to a sharp crescendo ending in the cracking sound of a small handgun firing.  Instantly he was tangled in piano wire binding him to the chair and pulling tighter, threatening to break his skin.  Warren collapsed, his voice yelped out painfully, ending the skirmish.  The sound of Alyn’s ruined throat panting wetly echoed in the new silence of the room.  

The wire had him trapped, one arm was pinned to a chair leg, his foot caught on the other side, his throat was cinched tight in the shimmering thread.  It cut deep around his body, bursting parts of his uniform-like suitcoat.  Alyn came down to squat on her victim, holding out the scalpel with far more purpose and poise than Warren’s frantic grip on the butter knife ever had.  

The doctor’s breath steadied in another moment inching the glowing surgical scalpel closer and closer to his face.  His eyes widened to saucers as he looked up into that copper mask, his own terrified image was distorted shining back at him as it illuminated in the green of the tool.  He shouted, “Damn you!  DAMN You to hell!”

She stopped then, the small knife’s gleam winked out.  She shifted the tool in her hand masterfully on fingertips and tapped his cheek with the handle.  She rose from the squat and looked in Nysirra’s direction.  

His limited motions jerked to look up at the doctor and saw that she held out the tool towards his daughter.  Her speaker ordered, “Remove one of his eyelids.”

Warren’s voice shrieked as he saw his daughter’s hand obediently take the scalpel.  Alyn took steps away as his daughter’s empty, blinkless, grin came to look at him again.  As she drew close, the only sign he had that there was a shred of her left behind that expression was twin tears that came from the sides of her eyes as she drew close with her grizzly task. 

Chapter 18: 金継ぎ

Summary:

Something soft(er)

Catra and Entrapta have a long soulful talk about who they are.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UFFnDSE-HwQ

The jeep finally sputtered to a stop.  Catra had managed to turn off to the side of the road before the complete failure.  She stared out at the misty forest below, to her left.  Dark circles were formed under her eyes, they had been up for the entire night and had watched the sun peak through the horizon before the moisture in the air clutched itself into a thick fog.  

She looked to her right to see the blankly staring Entrapta.  She remembered how automatically she worked at getting the items out of the horde supply bunker that they pillaged on the edge of the Fright Zone.  They had dumped into two backpacks a week’s worth of ration bars, a disassembled Vyxen Shortburst automatic rifle and a large, round disk that Entrapta had selected without mentioning its use.  Catra only allowed it because at the time, there was the slightest glimmer of excitement on Entrapta’s face.  

Catra said, “So that’s the end of the gas… unless you have some kind of miracle that you can work to get this moving forward.”

Entrapta just stared at the rolling mist in front of them, hiding where the road went.

Catra’s voice sharpened, “So are you going to talk about what happened back in the alley or not?”

Entrapta looked at her, a shell of what she once was.  Her broken voice chose to answer the first question, “I… Might be able to jury rig a sail… I guess…”

Catra rolled her eyes, “Whatever, we don’t have time for that kind of assembly.  Looks like we’re walking.”  She shifted in the seat and slid out the side.  

Entrapta shifted back to looking out the front of the jeep blankly.  

Catra scolded, “You know, this is an improvement for you, no more probing and picking at my orders.”

Entrapta hesitated, shifted out of her seat to look out at the forest.  She finally said, “You… you should go without me.  I’m just-...” ‘ garbage’ she mentally completed.

Catra’s voice clipped, “Not happening, you know southern Dryl and I need you to get me through here.  Then we can talk about splitting up.”

Entrapta considered that.  She said flatly, “I’m a witness, it’s more likely you’re taking me out when I’m no longer of any use to you.”

Catra huffed, she slapped the side of the jeep, frustrated, “You know what?  You’re right.  All this time, all this energy I spent breaking you out of our holding cells, stealing enough rations for two people, letting you take that tech, it was all because I wanted to take your life in the most elaborate, least efficient way possible.  I wanted you to twist in the wind and maximize your suffering.”

Entrapta lowly rolled her eyes back and forth, her lips pursing, “Well…”

A sharpness came to Catra’s voice, eyes squinting dangerously, “If I wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t have made it to the Fright Zone, you would have died in that prisoner transport.  In fact, I would have turned Scorpia around and told her to ‘play’.”

Entrapta’s brow furrowed, “Her name is… Scorpia.”

Catra shrugged as though it was a stupid question.

Entrapta pressed, “So just… Scorpion but an ‘A’.”

Catra rolled her eyes dismissively.  She tossed Entrapta’s backpack full of rations over to her, her limp hands came to life and held it at the last second.  Entrapta made the slightest glum tug at the crook of her lips deepening the lines there.

Later…

Entrapta wordlessly pushed the device beneath a jagged rock, her dull red eyes flicking toward Catra.  The dubious look on Catra’s face did not go unnoticed, but Entrapta merely shrugged and returned to her work.  The purple haired woman settled back on the overturned log she had dragged over, the rough bark biting into her rear when she sat on it.  With a muted gesture, she invited Catra to sit beside her.

They had been walking for over an hour along a narrow goat path.  Long ago the cool, damp air had invaded their clothing causing the occasional shiver in them both.  The trail had unexpectedly led to a scenic overlook, where the land dropped sharply into an endless abyss of fog.  Below them, pine trees cascaded down the cliffs, their green needles fading into the pale mist, until it was impossible to tell where the trees ended and the sky began.  The air was cold, heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, a thick silence broken only by the occasional whisper through wind moving through pine.

Catra scowled at the invitation, her refusal silent but clear.  She stood a few paces away, arms folded across her chest, tail lowly turning.  Entrapta shrugged, her fingers deftly tapping buttons on the strange disk now partially covered with a rock.

Softly Entrapta finally said, “Thanks… for giving me those nanotech bandages.”  She mumbled while rubbing her stomach, “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Catra scoffed, dismissing the sentiment, “Can’t have you slowing us down.”

Entrapta quietly nodded in agreement.  

Catra tightened her self-hold slightly.  She gave a quiet groan, ‘How is it Entrapta is still annoying when she wasn’t even saying anything?’

Catra accusingly said, “Alright, we also can’t have you being mopey either.  What happened back there in the Fright Zone?”  Catra leaned in slightly, her voice firm.  “You’re not getting out of this with a half-baked excuse.  If you want to keep sitting here, you tell me what really happened.  No more dodging.”

Entrapta blinked, clearly caught off guard.  She shifted uncomfortably on the log.  

“I told you what happened,” she mumbled, but Catra’s stare burned into her, unrelenting.

“Five minutes,” Catra pressed, her tone brokering no argument.  “That’s how long you’ve got to be honest with me before we move again.  So start talking, or get ready to walk.”

Entrapta’s brows arced, struggling with how to handle the ultimatum.  The engineer took a moment to observe her captor, a deep scowl was set on her face.  She let her gaze linger on the girl’s long, loosely curled hair that almost perfectly matched the dark brown of her open, beaten leather jacket.  Despite herself, she was admiring the red form-fitting bodysuit that started at her meager bust and ran the full length of her slender frame.  Decorative gashes were at the thighs.  The pants ended in stirrups that showed off her clawed feet.  There was something pleasing about how sharply she was trying to be dangerous in her threats but her body making her tail lash low and her ears attentive told Entrapta that the girl was curious about her, and nowhere near attack posture.  

The darker glare on Catra’s features clued Entrapta in on how long she had been looking at her instead of answering.  Entrapta’s expression softened.  Without a word, she stood and moved in front of Catra, gesturing out toward the view behind her.  “Look out there… just look,” she said, her voice quiet but firm.  “Don’t scheme, don’t plan, don’t worry about wasting time or what comes next.  Don’t be a soldier for just a minute.”

Catra shot back, “This is a weird answer for ‘What happened to you in the alley?’”  The serious look on Entrapta’s face was all she got back.  She forced herself to indulge the engineer.  With a reluctant sigh, she turned toward the overlook.

At first, all she saw was the mist—a heavy, grey shroud that had become just another obstacle in their journey.  But as her gaze lingered, something began to change.  A bird's song echoed softly through the air, its melody weaving between the trees below.  She watched as a larger bird dipped through the mist, disappearing into the dense, rolling fog.  The treetops, once just a blur of green, began to reveal their depth, their shapes merging and then pulling apart as the mist shifted.

Catra felt the weight on her shoulders ease, if only slightly.  The chill in the air settled over her short fur, as if the world itself was slowing down around her.  She blinked, and for the first time in what felt like ages, everything seemed to stop.

There was no war here.  No Horde.  No rebellion.  Just...  the wild expanse of the forest, the distant echo of birdsong, and the steady rhythm of nature unfolding before her.

Her tail, which had been twitching with pent-up frustration, stilled.  She wasn’t fighting anymore.  She wasn’t running.  She did it, she had escaped.  

Entrapta fished out a toothpick, biting at it.  Even from here Catra could smell the plastic yet earthy scent it held.  Entrapta’s low voice broke the enchantment, “When I was growing up, my father wanted to develop the southern land, maybe even push the cities here to turn more industrial.  Austin said that we should keep it untouched so that future generations would have wilderness to explore… then Darkland fell.”

The force captain snarled, “And it’s the worst thing to ever happen, right?”

“No!” Entrapta blurted, then frowned, “No-...  well… maybe.”  She sighed, bringing the heel of her hand to her forehead, “I… I just thought…”

Catra snapped, “You thought what?”

Gentle frustration came to her, “I thought that for just a few minutes I could get you to come out of whatever dark cloud you’ve decided to live life behind.”

Catra flashed a glare at her, “Dark cloud?  You mean you wanted to ignore reality for a while?”

Entrapta gestured to the view, her voice still defeated, “No, it’s not reality.  The Horde isn’t everywhere .  Not yet.  There’s still spots like this in Etheria.  We did it, we’re away from them.  You don’t have to be like them anymore.  You can be anything you want now, and you’re choosing to cling to the poison they filled your mind with.”

Catra looked out over the view again, her tail starting to twitch once more.  She answered her.  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.  I’ve ended so-...  so many lives.  Both personally and with a stroke of the pen.  Fuck me, sometimes I liked it.”

Entrapta’s teeth bit tighter on the toothpick, Ares' flavor splashing on her tongue.  She said, “I-...  I get it.  I’m so new to this side of the conflict.  Growing up I would make these-...  these improvements to firearms, tanks, drones, missiles.  I would talk about stopping power, mid-flight corrections, new vindanyte formulas to deflect bullets but-...  but it was all abstracts.  At least, up until last year.  Up until I crossed the line.”

Entrapta’s gaze steeled on the rolling scenic view, “That’s-… that’s what happened in the alley.  I had to look at that… -really look- at what I was.”

Catra asked, “Why?”

Entrapta wrung her face, biting tight on the wood, ending in a frown.  She finally answered, not exactly lying, “I-... got a good look at myself in a mirror.”

Catra’s face drifted to look at Entrapta.  Her voice softened, “What-...  what do you do with those feelings?”

Entrapta shifted to look at Catra.  Honestly, she was hoping that the girl would somehow have the answers.  She was clearly the older of the two though, so she had to be the wise one.  She just quietly started answering, unsure of where she was going, herself, “I think about math… I think about harmonics in machines…”

Catra squinted doubtfully with the side of her face, “Yeah?  I don’t think that’s going to help me very much.”

She shifted her steel toed boots on the ground causing a popping noise, now facing the girl.  Her voice turned soft, private, “Well, you’re not looking at it right.  You see… There’s weird things that you have to think about when you’re working on a large structure like an assembly line or a building to house it.  Take 2.5 hertz.”  Entrapta reached out her hand, her middle fingers still slightly red from the torture device.  She made a gesture much like a wave through her wrist and forearm in a steady beat, “Looks innocent enough, right?  Two and a half hertz is is the frequency that a lot of winds blow at, it’s almost like the planet’s heartbeat, up, down, up, down.  If you put a building down, or a bridge…”  She brought her other hand up to illustrate, “It takes on this frequency, pulsing back… and forth.”

She plucked the toothpick from her mouth, tossing it back to nature.  She flexed her brows at Catra, a pleased smile touching her lips, “Actually, 2.5 hertz is more like this.”  She reached for the girl’s shoulder and began a rapid pitter patter there with her index and middle finger.  It got a puzzled look from Catra but Entrapta was still explaining, “So what do you do?  You start to make fine adjustments, take a little bit away from here and there.  Tweak the design, then instead of falling apart, it…starts to take on its own counter-rhythm.” Entrapta’s tapping fingers drifted slowly along her shoulder, to her neck, finally they stopped tapping as she let her palm settle along her jaw, her thumb barely brushed along her high cheekbone, “Kinda like this…” 

Catra suddenly realized just how close they were together.  Entrapta was about a foot away, slightly taller, but her shoulders were broad and strong, built up from years of working on her machine lines.  Being this close, Catra noticed her scent—fresh fabric, leather, and the faintest hint of that tangy, plastic, smell her toothpick had.  

There was a strange strength in the way Entrapta’s fingers traced her jaw, precise but unhesitant, like she knew exactly how to dismantle her defenses.  Entrapta’s voice turned low and intimate, “Have you seen a zero tolerance block?  It’s so precisely cut that when the pieces move together they slide effortlessly into one another, creating a flawless,” her thumb ghosted against the girl’s lower lip, “unbroken…” Entrapta was now so close to her that her whispered breath puffed the last words onto her lips “union…”

Catra unexpectedly found her throat dry, her cheeks hot.  Suddenly her pulse was in her ears as she heard a deep, stuttering sigh escaping her.  Her mind tingled, shocked at how this conversation about machines was suddenly about–...  Catra stopped her gawk by looking low, her hand reached up to gingerly nudge Entrapta’s hand from her cheek.  

Entrapta’s eyes followed the union of their hands moving down from her face to the centimeters between them.  When she let go, Entrapta did as well.  Her red eyes drifted back up to stare hungrily at the girl for just a moment more.  She subtly, briefly, tucked her bare lower lip behind one of her front teeth, then finally took a step back from her.

Entrapta quietly said, “I guess you might be able to see it the same way I do after all.”  

Catra’s staggered pulse was still rushing through her ears which only catapulted her anger flaring bright again.  Catra spat, “What’s all that supposed to mean!?”

She frowned, a flash of confusion passed across her face, “It… means you understood what I was really saying.”

Catra’s pointed teeth peaked behind her lips, “Yeah, well you’re not exactly subtle!”

Entrapta looked down, stammering into silence.

It wasn’t good enough, Catra went on the attack, “Just what were you thinking!?   What, did you think?  A few fancy words about machines would make me fall at your feet?”

Entrapta shot back, but her voice faltered, “That-...!! That’s… yeah… I guess that might have been the plan, but I was trying to figure out how to connect with you.”  She started feeling for her toothpick box again, “Look, I’m not good at-... at reading people or expressing myself.  I thought… I thought that it might help–... y’know…  I wanted to somehow show you that this war is hurting me too.”  Entrapta seemed to find her voice then, “It’s literally cost me everything!!  My parents, my friend, my job, my reputation.  I just thought that you’d know that it’s not supposed to be like this!  People don’t want to kill, damnit.  We’re not-...”  Her voice broke, jamming a toothpick back into her teeth, “We’re not built for it!”

Catra’s anger rose to meet the crumbling woman’s vulnerability, but fast as glass breaking, the vision she saw earlier came to her.  She remembered that deep satisfaction, how it radiated through her body, from nose to tail—Adora, completely defeated.  Broken.  The rebellion shattered.  Adora would have no choice but to come back to the Horde now.

Her gaze dropped to her hands, then flicked back to Entrapta.  Her anger couldn't hold against the rising confusion.  Once, Entrapta had cared so much about her.  They’d been close, friends even– until she was going to warn Hordak...  that warbled shriek.  Betrayal.

Catra’s jaw tightened as everything crashed together in her mind.  Her voice came out with a practiced edge, “I don’t need your help, or whatever you think this is.  You’re just another royal who never had to fight for anything real.  Any friends you think you might’ve had?  They’re all a farce.”  She found the anger to look directly at Entrapta again, “You don’t know anything about really caring about someone.  Anyone that you decided didn’t serve you, you could push away and there would have been some other bowing person wanting to be in the inner circles of power.  When someone rejects you in the Horde-...  When-...” she stammered quiet, tears threatened to come to her eyes, “The only reason she rejected me was because of what I am.  Because of something I did.  Because he said so.  I’ll never know, she wouldn’t even tell me.  But I know this.  It was her choice to start hating me for me.  You’ll never understand that.”

Catra leaned forward, “So don’t you bring-...  whatever that was to me.  You have no idea what I’m going through.”

Entrapta sniffed, her chest ached seeing the wounds on her heart for what they were, “It’s… impossible to know what makes someone become a shadow of what they once were.”  The vision of Eclypse Labs in ruins came to her mind.  Her red eyes stared beyond Catra, voice strained, “Sometimes people change because they have no other choice, sometimes they become-” She paused, the copper mask shunted into her mind, “-something you’d never thought they would become.”

“I- I’ve seen it happen-...” Entrapta looked down to her right hand, “I helped make it happen to someone I grew up with.  What I did to her–...  I have to live with for the rest of my life now.”

Silence fell between them, Catra processed Entrapta’s words, her flames turned to coals.  Whatever the purple haired princess was talking about, it hauntingly echoed her life alongside Adora.  Catra wrapped her arms around her own ribs for comfort.  She turned to look back to the horizon.  ‘ Maybe she does know…’   The fog was now slowly lifting to reveal the valley beyond.  Her tail flicked back and forth, a sign of her inner turmoil.  Entrapta stayed quiet, refusing to retreat.  The moment stretched into two, then a minute.  

Finally, Catra sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly.  “I don’t know what to do with that.”

Entrapta stared at the ground between them.  She said finally, “It would be nice… if we could at least have a little trust between us.”

Catra’s tail remained low, turning back and forth, her yellow eye watching Entrapta.  

Entrapta said, “What if I made you a promise, that I won’t give up on you.  That I’ll always do what I can to help fix things for you.  Whatever it is.”

“Why?” said Catra.

That smile that made the lines at the crook of Entrapta’s mouth deep came back to her, “Because in some ways?  I’m an idiot.  I’ll see something that needs a little attention and I’ll spend way more time making it shine than someone in their right mind would.”

Catra glanced at Entrapta, a mix of emotions in her eyes.  She didn’t say anything, but the fact that she hadn’t stormed off was a small victory in itself.  Entrapta offered a tentative smile, hoping it conveyed the sincerity she felt.  Silence nestled between them, songbirds calling to one another verbally reaching through the mist.  Entrapta flicked her eyes to the girl, considering the quiet that somehow didn’t feel awkward.  Catra caught the look, she held it, her gentle scowl that always was on her expression was unwavering.  Was it a little less angular?  Maybe it was the lighting.  Entrapta finally broke the stare to look down between them.  She risked taking Catra’s hand and lifted her gaze to look her in the eye again, she had soured.  Something remarkable was happening though, Catra didn’t pull her hand back.  Entrapta let a breath through her nose in amusement and led her back over to the rock which was now radiating about as much heat as a campfire.  

Entrapta sat down on the log, their hands still clutched, a silent invitation for her to sit.  Catra rolled her eyes and sat taking her hand back finally.  In the new silence that followed.  She finally said to Catra, “Thank you,  for rescuing me-... um … I just realized.  I don’t even know your name.”

Catra corrected, “You’re not rescued, you’re my prisoner…”

Entrapta nodded looking at the rock.  

“It’s Catra.” she said abruptly.

Entrapta raised an eyebrow, scoffing playfully.  “'Catra'.”

Catra took out a ration bar peeling back the wrapping.  She nodded as she took a bite.

“Cat… with a ‘ra’.  Like the scorpion person and an ‘A’.” said Entrapta.

The girl’s stoic look broke, a huff of a laugh even came from her.  She said, “What do you want? ”

Entrapta switched the tooth pick to the other side of her mouth, gesturing, “I mean… you can just say ‘I don’t want to tell you my real name.’”

Catra’s smile widened a fraction more, the playful teasing breaking through her defenses.  “No, really.  It’s Catra.”

Entrapta’s expression softened again, her playful demeanor giving way to genuine warmth.  “Catra.  It suits you.”

Chapter 19: Sintered Alloy

Summary:

Entrapta gets the kinks out of her body.
She boots up a mini tablet from the supply depot they raided.
She picks up on a cypher left for her to read on a public website.
She figures out that Alyn is in Dryl.
Entrapta recruits Catra keeping her from doing something terrible to herself.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YQR6lC-s6Yc&t=36s

Sunshine

 

Time to wake up, Entrapta

 

Groggily her red eye opened, staring back at her was her halo headband.  She blinked again, was it shining?  No… it was glinting from the sun in the sky.  

The golden rays of morning’s breath hesitated on the horizon.  The sky on the horizon shone the blushing roses and pale blues of morning that she was all too familiar with.  Usually they had a little sad and satisfied feeling that came with them.  She would see them when she had just spent the night buried in notes and theories.  It meant that a choice needed to be made, power through the day or give in to sleep.  The same choice was before her right now, only it was backed by a restless sleep that she got after a day's trek towards the rolling ocean.  Shadows were softening.  The cold of night was giving way to the heat of day.  Information about herself and who she was was coming back to her.  She naturally wound her hairpieces back into place one after the other.  They shimmered through their bootup sequence and began to integrate with her silver and purple hair.  Hundreds of half centimeter silver ribbons bled from the bands unwinding the wicked snarls as they fully came online. Her hair seemed to shiver back into place from the massive bed-head she had turned it into; a result of her endlessly turning back and forth.  Her eyes stared blearily out at the picturesque scene

The ache in her jaw brought her back to her own maintenance, she was still missing that molar.  Her shabby old body groaned with its familiar chorus—old aches, nanotech healed torture wounds, and the ever-present demand for breakfast. New complaints joined the familiar ones, firm reminders that sleeping on the ground was never a good idea, no matter how tired she’d been.  Entrapta rotated her shoulders causing a few brittle cracks, trying to work the kinks out.  She reached over to her pack and dug out some pain killers that she popped into her mouth with a practiced ease.  

She mumbled to herself, “Alright past-Entrapta.  What did you sneak out of that horde supply outpost?”

Entrapta glanced at the campsite looking for the girl-...  Catra.  A pleased smile still came to her lips.  She knew her name now.  Catra was busy making sure that the Vyxen Shortburst rifle was in working order, aiming it over the cliff, bringing it back and tinkering.  

Entrapta let herself hesitate at that moment.  Sleeping on the floor hadn’t kept Catra from waking up right on time.  She was awake, alert, even had time to get frustrated with the weapon.  Entrapta’s body wasn’t finished making sure all her pieces were cracking into place.  The negotiation of all the injuries hadn’t decided who was going to be the loudest today.  She set her jaw, deciding to think about something else.  

Entrapta remembered that Catra had spent a lot of time breaking open the weapons cages and gathering supplies from there instead of the kitchen.  To her credit she did take two boxes of ration bars.  

The engineer took stock of her own pack.  There were two bars of Vindanyte, a wrap of computer screwdrivers, a pack of kinetic self-charging batteries, a voice recorder, six boxes of Horde ration bars, and critically, an unformatted mini tablet.  

With a sigh she broke open a ration bar and then popped out the seal on the mini tablet.  Her mind started to wander as it went through its opening sequence, theorizing about what she would need at minimum to turn the batteries into the main power source for the device.  She nibbled at the ration bar and made a face. Entrapta said reflexively, “Ughh, haven’t they heard of cinnamon in the Horde?”

Catra glanced over at her with a frown.  

Entrapta shot back a sarcastically apologetic look.  

Catra returned the pantomime with a ‘whatever’ roll of her eyes.

As penance, Entrapta took a bigger bite of the hard-tack-esque food-like substance and held up the tablet to keep no secrets about what she was doing.  

Catra came over brandishing the weapon but to her surprise she didn’t knock the tablet out of her hand.  Instead she decided to settle on the log and watch her work.  

Having more than a little fun with their silent conversation, Entrapta flicked her eyes from her to the tablet questioningly.

Catra watched her as only a predator could.  Her mismatched cat eyes contracted, choosing Entrapta as her target.  A dangerous stillness came to her, like she was building up tension in her limbs.  Finally movement came from her with a delicate scrape of the muzzle of the weapon with her diamond sharp claws.  

It made Entrapta puff out a breath and swallow.  Catra was sending a message that she knew how dangerous Entrapta could be with her connection to Entrapt-net.  She had to behave or face the physical consequences of her actions.  Suddenly the bland almost-food of the ration bar was surprisingly appealing and she took another bite.  Her fingers danced along the tablet finishing the setup.  

Catra shifted her posture to a more relaxed state.  She warned, “You know, where I’m headed, there’s not going to be any ‘net.”

Entrapta made a confused face.

She looked out over the green hillside, “I’m gonna find a corner of the world where there’s no fighting, no people, nothing at all.  Just me and the natural world, surviving is enough.”

Entrapta looked at her, there was a clear appeal to what she was saying.  Something itched at the fantasy though, “What about when you fall and hurt yourself?”

Catra scoffed but didn’t have an answer.  

Entrapta pushed further, “What about a house?”

Catra did have an answer for that, “Why does -everyone- start thinking about the logistics of it when I talk about this?”

Entrapta answered, “Because you’re not talking about the other side of this ‘escape from everything’ idea.”

Catra locked eyes on her again in accusation.

Entrapta bore the look because she needed to shine the light on it.  The words felt strange on her tongue, like they weren’t hers—like they belonged to someone else, “It’s because you want to be completely alone when you do what you intend to do out there.”

Tension rose in Catra’s expression.  

That was all the confirmation she needed.  Entrapta took the last bite of her bar.  She tipped her hand ominously saying, “Someone wanting to live in the wilderness would have taken more than a gun at that supply depot.”

Catra spat, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”  With that she got up, marching away to the other side of the clearing to be alone.

Entrapta watched her go.  That reaction somehow told her that the girl hadn’t really thought through what those moments would really be like.  A ghost of doubt came across her features, 

 

why did she know that? 

 

A tune came from the tablet indicating that the boot sequence was completed and ready for access.  She huffed out a breath and looked up at the sky orienting herself.  It was true, they were getting close to the edge of the free-access towers within Dryl.  Soon Horde satellite access would be the only way to connect if she wanted to navigate free information pages.  She tapped in a familiar site just as a test.  Dryl’s homepage was filled with generic headline information like always.  Something caught her eye just as she was about to access another page.  The way that the weather report was written from Starwatch Observatory had spelling errors.  When she also noticed grammatical errors she shifted how she was sitting.  It wasn’t just a report, it was a cypher.  

She had to admit it, Archer was clever, not only sending her an innocuous message in plain sight but then to hint that there was another cypher inside that one.  She used her thumbs choosing the last few letters on the mini tablet to solve it.  

‘My vote for exile was only to help eclypse the votes against.’

Bumps rose on her skin as she checked again to make sure that the ‘y’ was correct.  She was shifting to looking at public documents the next moment, quickly bringing up the meeting notes of the council’s decision to exile her.  There it was… 

 

• Eclypse Labs Chair: Pending Review

 

Panic clutched her.  Alyn was in Dryl, she had access to the board of directors.  What could it mean?  A hundred scenarios began to flood into her mind.  She had made sure that everyone in Dryl had heard about the upcoming scientist with good reason.  She was a meticulous, brilliant, wise and stalwart defender of Dryl’s values of putting people first and profit second.  After being caught by her-… after what Alyn told her about punishing her.  

“C-Catra!” she blurted, “Alyn’s infiltrated Dryl!”

The girl answered, “What?  Who is that?”

Entrapta looked over at her only now realizing what she just said.  Her heart sank with how she now had to reveal everything, “Alyn…” Entrapta’s face paused in a wince while she sorted her thoughts into order.  She said, “She’s the one that I transformed, that I helped turn into a shell of what she once was.  Now… now she’s in Dryl and she’s going to…”  She looked helplessly at Catra, “She’s going to make me pay for that.  She’s going to hurt people.”

Catra made a ‘so?’ gesture.

Entrapta exhaled, frustrated but understanding.  “Look...  I get it.  You’ve made peace with walking away from all of this, finding some place where none of it matters.  I’m not saying you have to change your plans or your path.”

She paused, her voice softening with something more earnest.  “But I can’t leave it all behind. I want the ones who looked up to me, the ones who believed in me, to be able to say, ‘Yeah, she built weapons...  but at least she tried to help when it really mattered.’”

The force captain was in the middle of rolling her eyes when Entrapta’s hair came up to grasp her hands, holding them together, followed by her own.

Entrapta’s voice quivered, “Please, Catra.  You can really make a difference here.  Alyn knows how I think, she knows what I’ll do.  I don’t have anyone else that can help me.” 

Catra’s mismatched eyes watched her hands being held together by the woman’s, processing all that just tumbled out of her.  One thing was certain, whoever this Alyn person was, it had shaken Entrapta to her core.  Catra’s look came back up to meet her eyes again.  It hit her: There really wasn’t anyone else.  Not for Entrapta.  Not for her.

The words slipped out before she could stop them, almost involuntarily.  “There’s nobody left in the entire universe who cares about me… either.”

The weight of that admission hung in the air between them.

Entrapta blinked, her grip tightening slightly, her hair curling around Catra’s wrists as though trying to tether them together.  “That’s not true,” she softly protested, “I care.”

Entrapta’s hair and fingers intertwined, holding her in place.  The soft, practiced precision of Entrapta’s grip—the same hands that built weapons, crafted machines—were trembling now, vulnerable in a way Catra had never expected.  It stirred something in her, something confusing.  ‘What am I doing?’  Entrapta was using the most skilled part of her body, the part she trusted the most, to hold her here.  Those parts—her hair, her hands - were shaking.

Catra shook her head closing her eyes and said, “I can’t believe that I’m-”

That’s all she got out before she was wrapped up in Entrapta’s strong arms being crushed.  She was sputtering, “Sto-Stop it!” in the next moment.  

Entrapta let go on command, but switched to gripping her shoulders tight.  She gushed, “You won’t regret this!  I’ll start cleaning up the campsite.”

Catra rolled her eyes again and turned away from the princess.  She found she was looking at the goat path’s trail continuing on.  She had never seen something so mundane look so enticing.  The arc of tree branches framed the swaying path as it continued on for another hundred feet before it bent out of sight.  There were even tiny white flowers peppered along its way.  She never noticed flowers before.  Somehow she knew that was the moment.  She could easily out-pace Entrapta, just run and run and nobody could ever catch her again.  She could finish out whatever time was left in solitude and then let what dreams may come.  She felt her feet tingle as though she was on the edge of a cliff ready to jump.  

“Catra?” came her name.  Entrapta had called her.  When she turned back she saw that she had already shoved her rations into her pack and was in the middle of putting the vindanyte in as well.  The look on her face was curious, perhaps the slightest wisp of tense.  It was almost as though she could tell how close Catra was to springing away.  The tension in her legs mounted.  She wasn’t sure why, maybe it was the gentle worry nestled at the very end of Entrapta’s voice calling her.  She pivoted, back to facing Entrapta.  

Catra grumbled, “-Never should have told you my name.”  

Maybe it would be fine to spend the last of her life helping this crazy disaster of a person.  Catra took a few steps back to the clearing to get her things gathered together so they could leave

 

together.

Chapter 20: Probing

Summary:

Warren wakes up from a procedure.
Insults Alyn.

Switch to the Alliance, Angella contemplates the Moonstone.
They come up with a new strategy for getting Adora on their side.

Return to Warren's house.
Alyn lays out a plan for them to follow.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bqMLd0doKII

Warren groaned, he could feel his eyes crusted over from the deepest sleep he’d ever experienced.  Suddenly his mind flashed the last thing that happened to him, his daughter was going to-

He grabbed at his eye.  His panicked breath panted in and out of his chest as he bolted upright.  He felt a new and puffy crease along his lower left eyelid, he blinked a few times, trying to understand what was happening.  The room he was in was dark, familiar.  It was his bedroom.  There, off to the side, were chairs for him and his wife to read in.  In his wife's chair sat a solitary figure, legs crossed, mask gleaming in the darkness, holding her clip board with a curved wrist.  

“Your daughter was most meticulous in the blepharectomy.  She has the markings of a good surgeon, when motivated properly.” Alyn observed.

Warren struggled to get to his feet, he struggled to understand the missing amount of time between his daughter coming close and this moment.  Then nothing.  If he was knocked out, he should have been sluggish but he wasn’t.  He didn’t have time to fully process it.  

“You!” Warren snapped, “You come into my house!  Harm my family!  Torture me in my own home!”

A disappointed sigh gurgled out of her throat, “It escapes me how you managed to rise to the station you have.  It turns out the blood is quite thin at the top of our leadership.”

He closed the distance with a scowl, but stopped when he noticed a towering figure in the darkness behind Alyn.  Gleaming red gemstones softly lit brighter on the form.  Her pale face caught the glow of the red gemstones that began to gleam on her platemail.  Each scrape of the armor as she moved was joined by the drawn-out rasp of her greatsword leaving its hilt.  Alyn’s voice remained even and cordial, “I believe you have at least heard of my associate, Vice General Adora.  I sought her counsel to help in this parlay.”

Warren physically spat on the ground at Alyn’s feet, “I knew it, I knew that this was no mission of mercy.  Here in the dark is where you make your real demands!”

The doctor watched the spittle on the ground speaking in its direction as she diagnosed, “Patient is confused and irrational, thinking mercy clearly given is no mercy at all.  Patient exhibits delusions of grandeur, unable to adapt to his new position.”  She looked back up to him as Adora let the tip of her sword touch the ground at her feet.  She rested her gauntlets on the guard, her gaze locked on Warren.  Alyn’s tone brightened, “How is the stitchwork?  Can you blink it?”

Again, Warren’s hand came to his face, finding that the lid was still there, only slightly disturbed by masterful stitching.  Alyn continued, “You see I do not act without purpose, high director Warren.  This is to remind you of the position you’re truly in.  The Horde is indeed here.  We are going to occupy Dryl.  You have no power now, you may not make demands, you may not live the life you lived before.  Should you resist, our measures to make sure your body is unharmed will cease to be.  Is this clear?”

Warren's face flushed with anger, his hand still pressed against the stitches under his eye. Despite the fear gnawing at his gut, he straightened his back and clenched his fists. His voice quivered with the strain of suppressed rage, “You think you've won something here, Alyn?”  His words came out in a sneer, “You think the Horde’s occupation is going to change anything?  Dryl will not bend.  We are innovators, survivors.  You may stand here, parading around with your monsters,” his gaze flicked to Adora, “but this will not last.  I will not be cowed by your cheap theatrics.  You–… you will never understand what it means to truly lead."

He pointed an accusatory finger toward Alyn.

“Everything you’ve done is born out of pettiness. You couldn’t handle failure in life, so now you skulk in the shadows of the Horde, trying to tear down everything we built.  But you are no leader.  You’re nothing but a coward who hides behind her experiments and lies.”

Alyn froze, a statue in the chair.  Her grip on the clipboard whitened her knuckles, the faintest tremor passing through her.  The copper mask betrayed nothing, but the silence that followed pressed into the room like a weight.

Adora waited a moment.  Then another.  She turned, uncertain, to look back at Alyn.

Still she sat.

Warren gathered himself for another barrage when Alyn finally moved, calm as though nothing had passed, placing the clipboard gently on the coffee table.Her pale prehensile hair coiled beneath her, lifting her smoothly from the chair to her full height.  Alyn’s artificial voice on the speaker in her mask said quietly, “Oh, Warren.  I didn’t think you had it in you.  But you have truly enraged me.”

“There’s more where that came from!” Warren’s voice rose.

“No, there isn’t.” Alyn gestured to Adora who shifted into action.  Both hands came to her sword and she took a step ready to upswing the sword into the man’s flesh to cut him down.  

Warren braced, ready to meet his end bravely.  Then– her face. Nyssira’s hollow smle.  Elyara’s empty eyes.  Fear struck him cold.  His chest collapsed as the words shot out of him, “Wait! Wait!” 

The general stopped mid-swing at his words, she looked to Alyn.  

Warren’s look danced around the dark room, “My children… my wife.  You’ll make sure they’re okay?”

Annoyed, Alyn brought her fingertips to her mask’s forehead.  She let her arm fall with dramatic exasperation, “What does that matter to a man exiting life?”

Warren soured, “I suppose something like connection means nothing to a monster like you, but those of us with souls care about what happens to the people close to us when we are gone.”

“You speak of preserving them while throwing your own life away.  If you really wanted to continue to care for them, you should have accepted friendship instead of ignorant attacks towards me.”  Alyn gestured to Adora to continue.

“Wait!!” Warren blurted out.  His eyes dashed between the two of them.  She was right, if he wanted to save his daughter and wife, he would need to pique her twisted interest.  “You were right!  I spoke rashly… let me hear what you are proposing.”

Alyn brought her hand back up to touch the lips of her mask.  “Now, I’m confused, Warren.  Are you… asking me a question here?”

Warren looked her up and down, she was clearly prompting him, but he hadn’t the faintest idea what she could mean.  He decided to treat her like they would in front of the other directors, “Could you… explain your idea?”

Alyn gestured to Adora to stand down, “I thought you’d never ask, director.  Come with me.”

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iGDd0Lz24vE

The Moonstone loomed with a calm, almost humanoid presence—six feet tall and three and a half feet wide, its natural shape softly tapering upward. Encircling it were delicate, masterfully worked bands of metal, each unique in style, each a testament to the artisans who had worked on it. Thin, gilded bands wrapped its upper curves like ivy, an elegant touch from Plumerian craftsmen who added soft, flowing forms to match the stone’s natural beauty. Near the base, the ironwork bore the unmistakable angular, geometric precision of Dryl, forming protective anchors around the stone’s lower edges, holding it firmly like roots of a great tree. High above, a glint of platinum caught the light in an intricate wave pattern—perhaps Salenias in origin, the silvered metal reflected sunlight into a scattering of glints on the surrounding stone floor.  The kingdom of snows signature was found in the white marble in a six sided, cut in a way that made a snowflake seam.  

The artisans had each left their mark, yet nothing overshadowed the stone’s natural majesty; the bands seemed woven with reverence, as though each line, curve, and angle was chosen to honor its otherworldly presence. Yet despite the care that had gone into its setting, something about the Moonstone felt dormant, inert.  Angella reached out, her fingers brushing its cool surface, but it felt no more alive than simple rock.

Her heart sank as she exhaled a slow, disappointed sigh.  This stone had brought her here—it should have held traces of ancient power, of the magic that had always been part of her.  But it was quiet, unyielding.  Without its magic, how could she hope to return home—or even to the quiet, familiar void between realms?

“Your majesty.” Bow said softly behind her.  

She turned to regard the leaders of the rebellion here.  She asked, “Why did you bind the Moonstone like this?”

They looked up at the structure, then back to her.  Glimmer said, “It was found on the edge of the city just after its founding.  Master artisans were consulted throughout the seven kingdoms, only the finest jewelers were selected.

She asked, “But where is it's magic?  Why isn’t it filled with magic?  Even if it wasn’t fully connected to you, Glimmer, it should at least feel magical. It’s not even allowed to float.”

Glimmer frowned, “Mom… Magic comes from finding it within… from our blood.  The line of the ancients.”

Angella frowned thoughtfully, she turned to contemplate the stone more.

Bow tried to change the subject, “Your majesty… We have been in contact with Adora.  We almost broke through to her but once we were getting somewhere she closed the channel.”

Angella nodded absently.  She reached up to brush her hand along its smooth surface, once again caught up in how differently this relic felt.  She murmured, “It brought me here… how could it do that without a massive amount of magic?”

Bow stepped closer trying to focus her, “We need your help.  Maybe you can talk with her, get through to her.”

Angella turned to face him again, her transformation from wistful to leader was apparent.  Her shoulders squared and she brought her palms together at her waist,  voice suddenly confident, “I’m afraid Adora only ever felt intimidated by me.  We connected in the end, though… she was supposed to take care of you, of all of you.”

Bow urged, “Then she needs to be reminded of that.  We thought that since you could fly, you might be able to get to her and maybe talk some sense into her.  Maybe even help her to understand that she’s fighting on the wrong side.  It’s crazy, but having the general of the Horde defect might be the only way to stop what’s been happening.”

Angella frowned thoughtfully, her eyes searching low to remember.  She said, “It wasn’t my words that convinced her, the sword did.  I wonder why that didn’t happen here.”  She raised her brows, “Perhaps-…  In your exploration of the whispering woods, did you ever come across a sword, large with a gemstone set in the hilt that was shaped like the Moonstone?”

Glimmer glanced at Bow, then turned back to Angella, “If we did, it was never reported to us, but we can check the records.”

Angella nodded. “We need to know. This might be the key to turning the tide here.”

Angella’s gaze drifted back to the Moonstone, its inert surface continuing to reflect  nothing of the power she once felt. Glimmer and Bow were already turning to leave when she called out, “There is… one other thing.”

They hesitated. She continued, “There’s no guarantee that reuniting her with the sword will do anything but give her a weapon. In my world, runestones are a great font of magic, connecting with the leaders of each kingdom. We act as collectors and transmitters of their power. But here, there is… nothing.”

She met their eyes, her voice softening. “The runestone in the sword was called the master runestone, perhaps if she bonds with it, it might unlock the others.”

Glimmer’s gaze fell. “Even if it did… there are barely any bloodlines left to connect to them. Entrapta, Mermista, and I… we’re the last ones, and there hasn’t been magic in Dryl for generations.”

Angella let another sigh escape her, her mind caught in the fractured hope of her plan. “Perhaps… But the last thing we need is certainty.” Her voice grew steadier, conviction building within her. “This is as good a path as any to break through to her—and it may be the only chance we have.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ltUAnP1jbk

They moved from the dark bedroom.  His wife and Nysirra were still at the table, the dishes now absent.  The monstrous doctor marched over to Elyara, “Did you know that Hordak actually did fight an invading extra terrestrial force?”

Warren was escorted by Adora as they came back into the geometrically styled dining room.  He felt his stomach twist again seeing the same sweetly smiling family.  Warren said, “I… I think I saw something about that at one point, but Dryl was more focused on our borders being occupied than world politics.”

Alyn assured him, “Well he did, and the fallout from that battle continues to be a passive project in the Horde, harvesting the treasures left in the wreckage in space.  Admittedly it’s a very high risk operation.  Many ships come back with nothing but vindanyte and iron scrap.  But every so often…”

Alyn lifted Elyara’s hair revealing a quietly shining green and white disk latched to the base of her skull, “There is a diamond in this rough.”  

The object was white, circular with an emerald-like stone in the center.  Glints of circuitry winked in the inky depths of green.  The tissue around the site was irritated and pink, indicating that it was a new installation.  

Warren gaped at the device, slowly drawing closer.  His expression changed from shock to revulsion turning to Alyn, he asked, “What have you done to her?”

The doctor’s shoulders drew up, her fingers touching the edges of the lips of her mask.  Her voice smiled, “ Wondrous things.  She insisted on going first!”

The director’s expression only showed disbelief.  

Alyn explained, “Well… she said that I was not to harm the young one, but I could do whatever I wanted to her.”

He sneered, “She… What?”

Alyn’s bitcrushed speaker in her mask replayed his wife’s desperate and panicked voice, “Don’t you touch her!  I’ll be damned before I let you touch a hair on her head!”

Warren showed his teeth in revulsion.

The doctor’s shoulders crunched, making her clip board rise to just under her chin. “That certainly sounds to me like she was volunteering to be a buffer between me and the child.” She giggled over her masterful wordplay.  

Hearing her sound so victorious made Warren boil again, he took an aggressive step forward but Adora had his shoulder in her powerful grip instantly. 

He glanced up at the stony-faced Adora, then remembered his strategy.  He asked, “Why… why are you doing this to me?”

She drew close despite his deepening scowl, Alyn’s voice almost glistened with satisfaction, “I thought it would paint… a heavenly picture.”

Warren couldn’t follow at first.  He rolled around the emphasized word, then blanched, “This is about that horrible project…”

Alyn’s laughter wetly gurgled out of her throat, her speaker melodically laughed up and down almost completely masking her ruined noises,  “Yes!  Project Heaven!  Very good!” She drew back, giving her hands a clap around the clipboard.  Her voice steeped in vindication,  “When I discovered these chips, I knew exactly what to use them on.  To show you... to prove to you what I was doing with Heaven!  It was no monstrosity. No…” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a hiss, “This is so much worse . Don’t you agree?”

Warren almost shouted at her, “Of course it’s worse!  What does this prove!?”

Alyn tilted her head, “I’m only trying to help you see, Warren, that when something is taken from you what it will do to you.  I am here not in malice, but a lesson to be learned.  When you tore away the bright hope of Project Heaven, it darkened the world.  It darkened her .” Alyn’s voice gasped for just for a moment. “That tiny speck of doubt you planted in Entrapta’s head made her bury our—” She choked on the words, her frustration breaking through, “Our child .  The thing that would have brought her from the darkness.”

Warren’s mind flashed to the presentation slides Alyn showed all those years ago.  How the grey matter of brains were pureed into perfect cubes and repurposed into storage.  Bile lurched in his throat, becoming sick with the thought.

“I saved it though… put it into storage.  Perhaps one day it would be useful, and so it was.  Heaven was the bridge that brought me here.  Only-…” Alyn brought out her bell, “I don’t quite know how… irritating how this thing guards its secrets.”

She looked to Adora who was captivated by the infinitely black shape of the bell, the very light in the room gently bent around the relic.  

Alyn drifted her gaze from Adora back to Warren, she mumbled through a sudden cloud of delirium, “yes… Godwin…”

She pushed the bell back into her coat pocket, “Godwin… I don’t expect there would be any record of it digitally.  Show me the records for Project Godwin.”

Warren froze, his mind scrambling to keep pace. The word “Godwin” meant nothing to him, but Alyn’s sharp tone and the dangerous glint on her mask told him she’d already made up her mind. It didn’t matter what he said—she was certain he knew something.

“I…” he hesitated, trying to steady his breathing. “I don’t know what that is.”

Alyn studied him critically, though he was under a microscope.  She explained, “Eyes contracted, you glanced up, imagining something plausible.  Your posture is tight, fist clenched.  All signs of deception.  Warren, you will tell me what Godwin is now or I will have the woman end the child.”

Elyara trembled in her chair, fighting the chip’s control on her.  Alyn didn’t miss it.  Warren was trying to draw her attention, protesting that he didn’t know anything about it but he was little more than background noise to her.  

“Godwin.” she repeated getting the same jolt from the wife, as though testing her.  She said, “ He won’t tell me, even though it might mean the end of his child, the most precious thing to him.”  She cooed, “Ohhh… but you… you know something.”  She drifted into the woman’s view.  Her pale hand came up to stroke her black hair, “As recently as last year, yes?  

Her wide smile couldn’t change but she convulsed again in the chair futility fighting the chip’s control.  Alyn softly coaxed, “And files… Where are the files, Elyara?”

The one sided conversation suddenly pivoted as the woman continued to resist, Alyn’s soft touch switched to a grip crunching her grinning cheeks up, her mask’s speaker distorted her voice blending it with a shriek of twisting metal, “WHERE ARE THEY!!”

Elyara’s throat bobbed up and down but the chip wouldn’t let her talk about anything but the truth Alyn needed to know.  Elyara’s shoulders twitched again, fighting the chip’s control.  Alyn directed “Your defiance of the device in your neck is pointless.  There is no fighting it.  You will tell me the truth, now .  Every moment you resist, every defiant second will feel like fire spreading through your nerves. It won’t stop,”

Elyara’s struggle suddenly shifted from defiance to shrinking, despite her grinning face, her eyes arced painfully.

Alyn forewarned, completing her thought, “Until you die of shock.”

Now Warren was shrieking at her but that barely registered to her.  It was Adora’s low warning that changed her attention, “Alyn, we’re not here for your ghosts… Tell him the proposal.”

Alyn paused, the mask made her reprise impossible to read.  She gave her final word to Elyara, hissing venomously, “I will find Godwin.”

Elyara relaxed suddenly, her breath coming in huffs of relief as the sensation in her nerves faded. 

Turning to Warren, Alyn adjusted her posture, adopting a more composed, almost business-like tone. “Now then... let us return to the matter at hand. I came here against my better judgment because Adora thought you might be reasonable.”

Alyn watched Adora a moment then, then switched to Warren.  She clipped her speech, “You have the unique opportunity to usher key citizens of Dryl to a safe space.”  Sadistic glee crept into her artificial voice, “You get to choose who lives and who dies.”

Warren shouted to her, “As long as they are approved by you and Adora, right!?”

Alyn held her hands up in surrender, “Truly, I don’t care who you choose here.”

Warren flinched, saying matter-of-factly, “Then I choose all of them!”

Adora frowned, Alyn gestured to the leader, “See how he functions?  I told you, he only thinks in ‘us and them’ terms.”

Alyn took a sweeping pace, Warren’s direction piquing her head to the side looking much like a marionette, “Very well, save them all.  I have taken the liberty of preparing a statement from your office indicating the complete dissolvement of the Dryl oligarchy.  Your people will be free to leave the city of Dryl by any means that they see fit, pending they don’t violate the territory of the Horde.”  She stilled, then clicked her mask several degrees towards Adora.  “Then again, it creates a great problem as the Horde would be well within the Nyland  Contract to annex any and all property within what was once Dryl’s borders.  Why… they might even go so far as to begin defending this new border of their territory by any means possible.”

She fully turned to the general then, “What does the Horde do with unknowns within their borders again, Adora?”

Adora looked evenly at Warren, “It is at the discretion of each soldier what they would like to do in that situation.”

Alyn looked back to him, “How many of us Dryl citizens would be able to keep their head when a gun is pointed at them?”

Warren spat, “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Alyn’s voice sneered, “But it’s what would happen if you let ideals rule your decisions.  Perhaps we could ground you in reality.”  She perked her head again, “Tell me, Adora, how much room is there in the Horde for asylum seekers?”

Adora glanced between them and said, “Roughly 50 per kingdom per week.”

Alyn clasped her hands, “Well then, this sounds much more agreeable than Warren’s nonsense answer.  50 per week!  Well, that would have the whole population out of here in about two and a half years depending on Dryl’s efficiency.”

Warren’s voice was low, broken, “That is no solution.  Alyn… what has happened to you?  What happened to the woman that came to the council with hope in her heart, with ideas to save people from illness, from death?

It landed forcefully into her mind, forcing her to parrot her ingrained words again, “I’m a doctor, I help people…” her blank mask trembled, if she had a face it would have perhaps told them more in that moment, but instead it just reflected the world in a distorted copper tone.  Her broken speaker’s voice was softer, almost human, as though she couldn’t believe what she was saying, “I’m… still helping people, Warren.  I-... I listened to Adora, she wanted exception in what’s to come-...”  Her voice staggered silent.  

Alyn’s scathing voice gained its position again, “Against my better judgment, I agreed to giving you a choice, to spare some from what is to come.”

Warren answered in a shaky breath, “What are you planning, Alyn?”

The doctor disregarded the question, instead leaning forward and emphasizing, “Fifty people, Warren… Choose them by tomorrow’s light.”

Chapter 21: 2222222 55555 77

Summary:

Content warning - body horror, eldritch horror, cosmic horror

Perfuma has been studying the Lexicon to try and fix Frosta's form.

They decide to investigate Alyn's ritual chamber.

257, 752, 725, 527, 275, 572

Perfuma spouts prophetic words.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rlt3eeIF3nY

Perfuma stepped back, she winced.  Frosta found herself drawn to the wrap around her neck.  Her new eyes lifted to regard her in the eye again.  Her voice was a loud whisper, “I feel the eyes taking,  But the way you’re looking at me makes me think that it’s not time to show off my face yet.

The girl frowned and turned to regard the book.  She had to fully rotate her torso because of the brace surgically installed to keep her head from rolling on to her chest.  She read the spell for a third time, meticulously this time.  

Here, the room smelled of flora and earth, a strange blend of living and dead. Perfuma’s lab was a sanctuary of contrasts: the countertops thick with overgrown mushroom beds, spongy and dense, while the lilies in the windowsill drooped, their leaves curling as if recoiling from an unseen force. The nightshade, too, struggled to maintain its deep purple hue, its edges browning despite the faint light filtering through the dirty glass.

Her alcove was sectioned off from a greater warehouse, a vast space lost in shadow. Industrial pipes wove like iron vines high above, their steady tapping echoing as they adjusted to the differences in heat and cold. The patterned hissing from a relief valve added a rhythmic sigh to the air, as though the room itself were exhaling.

Outside of Perfuma’s small domain, the rest of the room was empty—a cavernous void where the darkness seemed to press in from every direction. But here, at the seven windows, life clung stubbornly to the world Perfuma had created, the greenery and strange blooms standing as a fragile defiance against the cold, indifferent emptiness beyond.

While the girl kept looking over the book Frosta turned to look at a dirty square terrarium that weakly reflected her image.  She gasped softly, her newly installed eyes lid-lessly stared back at her.  Her skin was so dark from the way she perished that they seemed to be the only thing in the middle of her hooded face.  

Perfuma glanced up from the book and protested, “It should all connect!  I’m trying, Frosta!”

The wraith gathered the muslin on the table to shroud her face again.  She stood hoarsely saying, “Thank you for your efforts… I will be back later.”

“Frosta, wait!”  Perfuma said hastily.  She stood with her causing the book she was reading to clatter to the floor.  She grasped Frosta’s shoulder from behind, “We’ve been working so hard on this and we’ve come so far.  Please say you’ll be back soon.  I promise to work hard to find some better regeneration spells.”

Frosta shifted her head to profile, “This whole project is vanity and a waste of time.  Perhaps it is only right that I look like a creature instead of a human when guiding the dead.  Frosta paused noticing something at her feet.

Perfuma knelt down to gather the book into her hands, “Don’t say that, Frosta.  We’re making progress.  When you first came here there was next to nothing to work with.  You’ve got eyes now, and they’re so intricate.  It would be a shame to give up now.  I just know that with my magic and all the research on how to work with soulforms in this book we’re going to get you into a shape that you can live with.”

Frosta had knelt down too, taking up the scrap of paper there she showed it to Perfuma, “Just how thoroughly have you been reading?”  On the long piece of paper was a set of numbers written over and over again back and forth. They went over themselves, some backwards, some upside-down, some mirrored.  Over and over.  752.

Perfuma scoffed, “That’s a bookmark that was in there before.”

Frosta studied it a moment and then said, “From what I know of Alyn, she wasn’t one for arts and crafts.  She was very directed and driven in her work, to the point of mental illness.  She would not have made this if she didn’t think she needed it.”

Perfuma frowned and held the book tighter, “She did like those numbers, they keep showing up in the book.  It makes me uncomfortable.”  

Frosta tilted her head, “We’re tracking a monster, Perfuma. Maybe we should follow the path that makes us uncomfortable.”

Perfuma frowned, clutching the book tighter. The air between them grew heavy with the weight of the realization. She hesitated for a moment, but then stepped forward, determination flickering in her eyes, “You’re going to her ritual chamber, aren’t you?” she said, her voice firmer than before, “You can’t go alone!  I need to understand what Alyn was doing. Maybe it can help us... help you.”

Frosta considered the deceased princess, surprised at the resolve in her voice, “Perfuma, we’ve sent scrying simulacrums into that chamber. They barely make it past the threshold before they stop sending anything back.  The best I’ve been able to see is that once you’re inside, it’s only a matter of time before it breaks you into something-... something else. You have to stay focused on who and what you are in there.”

“I know,” Perfuma replied, her fingers tracing the edge of the book in her hands, “But after studying her books, her procedures, I know what Alyn is capable of... What she could do to others. I can’t just stand by!  If we don’t go in, if we don’t face it... we might never understand how to stop her.”

Frosta stared at her for a beat longer, searching her face. There was fear in Perfuma’s eyes, but something else too—determination. She wasn’t the passive diplomat from Plumeria anymore, “Fine,” Frosta finally said, her tone sharp but respectful, “But we go in carefully. No rushing.”

Perfuma nodded, her grip on the book tightening. Without another word, they moved toward the ritual chamber.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=APfszb7_y7Y

..

The place made her skin crawl.  The air was noxiously thick, smelling of ozone as they entered.  The center of the room still held the bent slab of metal that once held Adora, it was 

 

Each one of the walls was extensively cracked in jagged circular patterns quietly reporting the immense amount of power that coursed through the room at one point.  Glowing runes hung in the air, writhing at their ends in impossible angles.  They shone in every shade of green, a peppering of them were amaranthine purple.  A few were colors that Frosta could only see because of her time in the afterlife.  

She drifted into the room further spying the shattering of Alyn’s monitor.  She recalled the encounter earlier, wishing now that she was more cautious in her approach of the twisted glass at the time.  Perhaps there might’ve been some clue to the madness around her.  Above that was Alyn’s computer, a chaotic fusion of two eras forced to share the same space.  Brass gears, now grinded against one another with a strained, uneven rhythm.  They were partially exposed through spider web cracked plexiglass.  Vacuum tubes were scorched and melted inside.  One of them drew Perfuma’s attention.  It was a moment frozen in the process of shattering.  Its glass shards hung suspended in mid-air, jagged edges pitched at wild angles, as if trapped between the last heartbeat of one reality and the next.  Somewhere deep within the wreckage, at the machine's core, an amber glow fluctuated casting shadows that danced in the fractured glass. The glow was strangely alive, as though the heart of the computer had not yet accepted its broken state, its power refusing to fully die despite the chaos surrounding it.

“I don’t like this place,” Perfuma whispered, her voice barely more than a quiver. She took seven steps over to the shelving.  

            xj                     carefully along the shelves, now cluttered with shattered glass jars and scattered spell components. The contents, freed days ago, had claimed the shelves in chaotic disarray, some substances spilling over the edges, merging into one another like spilled memories. Perfuma’s fingers brushed over a few intact vials, her eyes searching for something,  a n y t   i n g, useful.

They weren’t here to explore or speculate; they had a purp o se—to understand how the numbers factored into this s-t-r-a-n-g-e space. Frosta, standing nearby, counted the five shelves almost absently, as if trying to make sense of the pattern, though the coincidence unsettled her. She turned her gaze toward the etched runes glowing faintly along the walls .

“It’s all off ,” Perfuma said, her eyes li ngering on a particularly misshap en jar. “The energies feel… wrong. Chaotic .”

Fro5ta scoffed, her tone clipped. “You’re the one who insisted on c o m i ng. I didn’t ask you to follow me.”

Perfuma winced but pressed on, her hands tightening around the jars she was inspecting. “I   now. But I felt s me  ing—something more here. It’s just… especially strange now.”

Frosta’s gaze flicked over to Perfuma, her sharp blue eyes studying the princess of Plumeria for a beat longer than necessary. something isn't adding up. The room, the a22angement, the air it5e7f—it wa5 waiting, or wor5e, 7i5tening .

…..

Perfuma’s fingers brushed over one of the remaining jars, untouched by the chaos. Inside, a viscous liquid shimmered, its deep purple surface disturbed by the faintest ripple. Perfuma counted two more intact jars nearby, their contents sloshing softly as she moved past. Beneath the amber glow, the shelves took on an almost ethereal quality, like artifacts from another world. The disarray was so precise it seemed planned, though why, she couldn’t fathom.

 

The room buzzed faintly with the sound of gears grinding, the steady rhythm almost soothing in its con5i5tency. Perfuma paused at a gap between the shelves, her eyes catching on a cluster of g7ss shards suspended in mid-air, frozen in time. The amber glow from Alyn’s machine pulsed once, twice, then again—five flashes in rapid succession before dimming. The lights flickered, casting long shadows that moved like specters through the haze.

 

She took seven steps forward, feeling the weight of the air pressing down on her as she neared the shattered jars. The contents spilled freely now, pooling together at the base of the shelves, a mixture of magic and science indistinguishable from one another. Perfuma knelt down, her fingers tracing the edges of a broken vial. As she stood, she glanced back at the machinery, its fractured state somehow breathing, still alive.

 

The computer’s amber glow flickered again, more erratic this time, casting the room in sharp relief. Perfuma’s heart beat in time with the pulse of the machine, five quick breaths followed by a moment of stillness. She turned back to the shelves, her were eyes catching on the strange symmetry. Seven jars stood intact, scattered among the debris of their fallen counterparts. Two of them hummed softly, as if waiting for 5omething.

 

Frosta’s eyes tracked the cracks widening across the walls, deliberate as they 5naked through stone. The monitors flickered, fractals spiraling endlessly, each twist revealing something deeper. Her breath caught. The room wasn’t waiting—it had already sprung its trap. Too late. She could feel it now, pressing against her skin, watching through every shadow. The eye of something vast , something ancient, was already upon them, woven into the very air they breathed.

 

Frosta blinked.

Her vision began to narrow.

She could feel her options slipping away.

 

“It’s wrong.”

Her voice barely sounded.

She tried to step toward the computer.

 

She couldn’t.

“Perfuma, I feel it too.”

Frosta’s body began to rebel violently.

 

Frosta moved.

She gripped Perfuma’s hand desperately.

Their hands met, white-knuckled, burning hot.

 

They screamed.

Their voices echoed in unison.

The sound tore through the air, ragged.

 

They lurched.

One tangled, twisted entity now.

Reality shimmered, gossamer threads fraying.

 

They moved.

The unraveling form squirmed away.

From the very fulcrum of existence.

 

…….

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0C315XTT9-s

They stumbled into the hallway; bodies grotesquely woven together. Frosta felt Perfuma's soulform inside her, like a foreign limb trying to tear free. Perfuma was shrieking, her terror wild and animalistic. She writhed and squirmed, her mind lost in the chaos. Frosta couldn’t even begin to fathom how they were sharing a leg and an arm, conjoined at impossible angles, bones half their own, half someone else’s.

"Stop!" Frosta barked, her voice sharp, but it broke with suppressed panic. "Stop it! We need to focus!"

Perfuma’s trembling worsened, every movement tearing at their fused skin.  The strain was unbearable, bits of their shared flesh stretched taut as Frosta tried to pull free. She focused, desperate to reclaim what was hers.  The arm between them gave an inch and Perfuma panicked again, jerking violently, trying to rush it, but stopped when the pain fanned out across her side of the body.  Frosta bit back a scream, pain flaring like hot knives beneath her skin. Beneath the black shroud covering her face, her burnt face twisted into a wince.

“No! Just—stop. Stop.” Frosta warned

It was a nightmare, not just of body but of mind. They felt every second of their unmerging.  They could feel each muscle quietly, wetly ripping apart from the shared limb. From underneath their shattered bones formed again quietly clicking as they did.  Frosta wasn’t even exactly sure how she was returning them to normal, all she knew is that Perfuma’s fear wasn’t helping.  Painfully, by inches, they unwound their soulforms.  

When it was finally over, they collapsed to the ground, drenched in sweat, bodies trembling from the effort.  It felt like they had torn away pieces of themselves just to exist separately again.  Perfuma rolled away rocking side to side on the ground cradling her hand tight against her mumbling sobs coming from her.  Abruptly, she arched her back letting loose into a wild scream coming to terms with what happened.  Frosta was by her side in an instant.

“Hey!  Hey!” she consoled, “It’s over, it’s over!”

Perfuma’s dark eyes caught sight of Frosta; she jerked her shoulders back, her legs kicking mindlessly away from her.  She scrambled away from the person she was just bonded with.  A primal shriek left her throat as she slammed into the corner of the hallway writhing, panicking to get away from her.  Perfuma’s eyes were wide and wild.  Words finally started to form, 

“Make it stop!  Make the ringing stop!!” she shrieked

Frosta moved with her barking, “Hey! Snap out of it!  You’re okay now!”

Her eyes darted around, limbs scrambling back away from her again but she was already at a corner of the hallway.  She shoved her head against it, grinding her temple against the cold stone.  Her teeth shone in the dim light as she opened her mouth wide to scream again at her, but no noise came despite the veins in her throat rising up.  Frosta could feel the scream on her skin… but her ears told her nothing.  

Frosta came down to grab her shoulders but she wildly flailed against the restraint raking her fingers against Frosta’s face tearing away the wrap there exposing her white lidless eyes.  Frosta turned quickly trying to hide her monstrous face while Perfuma’s voice shunted out of silence into the middle of another pealing scream.  

Frosta took care to wrap her head again, all the while she heard Perfuma’s breath hyperventilate as fast as it could.  When the last wrap came around her face it only then struck her… Perfuma was breathing again?

When she regarded her Perfuma was shaking with the desperation of someone who had all their heat stolen from them.  “Perfuma?” Frosta asked, “You’re… you’re breathing?”

Perfuma shook her head frantically, continuing to grind her temple against the wall. Her voice came out hoarse, trembling with panic. “N-n... no... the one that twice lived, who walked before me... I’m not she. I’m—”

“Perfuma,” Frosta interrupted, trying to steady her, her tone firmer now, “Calm down. It’s over.”

Perfuma’s voice suddenly leaped high, a desperate wail, “No! Not over! She’s not here! The five haven’t left! The two haven’t perished!” Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides, trembling with erratic spasms.

Frosta stepped forward, gripping her friend’s shoulders, “Perfuma, focus. Look at me. What are you saying?”

Perfuma’s wild eyes locked onto Frosta’s, and for a fleeting moment, there was a flicker of clarity—only for her to break again, “They told me!” she sobbed, her words spilling over themselves, “They told me! It’s all come to pass!” Her lips quivered, shaping frantic whispers that Frosta couldn’t parse.

Her gaze darted upward, chasing something unseen. Her breath caught, and a terrible, nasal sound escaped her throat—a cry more beast than human. She froze, her wide, tear-filled eyes staring past Frosta into nothingness.

“They said! They spoke!” Perfuma choked, her voice cracking, “I tried to speak, but not like them! It was—” She faltered, clutching at her chest, gasping, “So... so enormous! Their words weren’t words, they were—”

Perfuma convulsed, clutching at Frosta as though trying to ground herself, her fingers clawing for any purchase. “The bell peals, and its echoes shatter! Seven ways! Seven names! The copper gleams, the lyte blinds, and the mask—” She gasped sharply, her breath catching as her body stiffened.

Perfuma’s lips trembled as she struggled to form the last words. “The horror hides... behind the mask! Behind—” Her voice broke, and her body spasmed violently, her chest heaving as if it might tear apart from within.

In a flash, her head snapped to her shoulder, surgical brace popping out of her back making the sound like a muffled crushed apple.  Perfuma’s eyes were locked on something not there.  Her breath hitched, frame seizing as her voice lifting into a strained, desperate tone, “The bell peals, its echoes return seven ways—two are slain, and five sojourn away; Their path bends through copper’s gleam, Figures of brown, blue, and gold—helpless before the lyte, For they must cross the mask to see- 

Perfuma’s head snapped to look at Frosta’s face, shrieking loudly, “… see… the horror it hides! ”  

Suddenly, Perfuma grasped Frosta as tightly as her trembling fingers could, her scream erupted full-force, raw and guttural, into Frosta’s face. Her entire body convulsed, twisting and wrenching with unnatural violence, as though some unseen force were ripping through her.

Then it happened—a faint, sickly pop echoed between them, subtle yet final. Perfuma’s form slackened entirely, collapsing on the floor like a broken doll.

“No…” Frosta whispered, shaking her head. “What—no, this doesn’t make any sense! You’re already dead—you… you can’t die here. You just can’t!”

She shook Perfuma’s limp shoulders, her voice rising to a desperate plea. “No! You can’t die! You can’t! This is the afterlife!” Her hands trembled as she gripped Perfuma tighter, willing her back to motion, to breath, to life—but nothing came.

Frosta’s breath stuttered, her panic giving way to a gnawing sense of dread. Then, faint and distant in the still air—it came. A soft, resonant chime. The soft, clear, tinkling-

 

of a bell.

Chapter 22: Her First Taste

Summary:

Entrapta looks out over the scenic views of Southern Dryl.

Catra and Entrapta talk some more. Catra tries a toothpick.

Catra talks about growing up in the Fright Zone. Not Yet.

Pivot to Angella landing in the whispering woods.

Talks with Razz.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P48NyW5Vbqk

The mountains stretched out before them, shrouded in mist, their peaks lost in the low-hanging clouds. Autumn had drained the land of vibrancy, leaving a threadbare quilt of deep oranges and faded yellows stubbornly clinging to skeletal branches.  Below, the valley stretched out in muted hues, fog weaving like restless spirits among the trees.

The forest was thinning, the towering trees giving way to rocky terrain, their spindly forms reaching toward the gray sky.  The path underfoot turned rougher, littered with jagged stones and gnarled roots.  Each step Entrapta took crunched over fallen leaves, their wet surfaces slick with decay.

Catra, usually so sure-footed, was clearly struggling. She glanced back for the fifth time that hour, amusement tugging at her lips.  The girl’s breaths came in visible puffs, each more labored than the last.  Altitude sickness had set in, plain as day, but Catra’s pride was too sharp to admit it. 

Entrapta stopped, she wanted to ask if the girl wanted to rest, but she hesitated.  It had been a few days ago that Catra told her that she couldn’t ask questions because she was a prisoner.  A gentle tug came to the side of her face, wondering of the brash, girl even remembered that far back.  Even if she didn’t, it was a fun game for Entrapta to play.  She needed to figure out how to get information without asking questions, which meant she could only make leading statements or inferences.  

Entrapta turned to regard the landscape, rolling below in quiet splendor.  Her eyes flicked back to the trail.  Her land really was beautiful—no, wait, the land…. The correction landed with a painful sting, derailing any other thought other than the truth that her people had exiled her.  

She turned the thought over like a stone in her hand.  She’d risked everything for her people, given them her mind, her hands, her heart.  And still, they had cast her out.  For a fleeting moment, the temptation to turn her back on them entirely whispered through her mind.  The squint of her eyes tightened.  Alyn’s voice echoed from the past, accusing her of hiding behind machines whenever things got tough.  Was it true?  Was this who she had become?

The girl was at her side, her permanent scowl struggling to stay.  She bent in half, taking a breather, tail flicking low with annoyance.  

It broke Entrapta from her thoughts.  She feigned innocence, “Just take a deep breath of that air!  When you’re this high a lot of the particulates in the air are naturally sorted out, they can’t stay suspended in the air because the solution is too thin.”

Catra grunted, annoyed, “I don’t get what’s so great about it!”

Entrapta thought a moment about how to ask if she wanted to take a break, maybe if she pointed out the length again, “So I think the best way to stay away from people and get to Dryl undercover is to hike along the timberline across the saddle onto Mount Anvyl where Dryl is built out of.”

Catra’s labored breaths were her only answer.

She verbally prodded, “You should go first for a while.”

Catra ordered, “Shut up, we’re staying here while I catch my breath.”

Entrapta playfully shrugged and settled on a wet rock to go back to taking in the sights.

Catra plopped down next to her, bobbing her throat up and down, gagging back brunch.  

Entrapta took note of the trouble Catra was having.  Since she was idling herself, she reached for her box of toothpicks in the thigh pocket of her flight suit.  She tucked one of them into her mouth and then had a thought.  She turned the open box Catra’s direction, “They’re flavored.”

Catra eyed the selection, her gaze lingering on the dark and earthy colors. When she hesitated, Entrapta added, “They help steady your mind—might even make it easier to breathe.”

Reluctantly, Catra took a nearly black one and popped it in her mouth. Her eyes widened in surprise at the bitter, unfamiliar taste. Glancing over at Entrapta, who was chewing hers without flinching, she felt a jolt of determination. She forced herself to keep chewing. “You actually like these?” she muttered.

She shrugged, “It’s to take the edge off so, I didn’t really make them to be ‘tasty’.  That one’s graphite cardamom… This one is vanilla and gunpowder if you’d like that.” She picked out a beige one and held it out for her.  

Catra’s scowl deepened, clearly offended, “I’m fine.” she said visibly taking a tighter bite on the toothpick, “Keep your desert flavor for someone else.”

Entrapta kept her gloating smile.  She switched the offered beige out for another one, light taupe in color, “This might be better.  I only use this when I’m getting a deep craving for Ares.  It’s solder and clove.”

Curiosity and irritation flashed in Catra’s eyes. Grudgingly, she grabbed it, switching out her half-chewed pick. The taste hit hard, a punch of metal, sweetness, then spice.  Her already queasy stomach protested. But she kept her expression defiant, swallowing past the nausea. “Not bad… almost reminds me of home.”

Entrapta let some admiration bleed into her expression, she closed the little box of toothpicks.  Casually she asked, “So…  you grew up in Darkl-... in the Fright Zone.”

She sneered, her tail flicking with irritation, “Trying to get personal and hands-ey again?”

Entrapta rolled her eyes, “Yep, you know me, that’s my only motivation.”  Discouraged, she looked away for a beat, then looked back at her, “You pulled me out of a dark place back there, kid.  You didn’t owe me anything… ” Entrapta gave a shrug of her shoulders, an expression of ‘what’s up with that?’ on her face.

Catra had it.  She stood up from resting and shouted back at her, “You can be so damn annoying!  You were moping around like a kicked puppy when clearly you were just hoping someone would come in and tell you ‘ohhhh! Poor baby!  Everything is going to be okay princess, we’ll get you another whateverthehell you are upset about!’  And when I did that, it gave you exactly what you wanted!  Now you think there’s something there?!  I just wanted you to lift your feet a little!  Now I wish I hadn’t! ”

 Entrapta inhaled, but the breath stuck in her throat.  Instead of fighting back, her expression winced— uncomfortable at first, then thoughtful.  Finally, she flicked a glance at Catra and said, “So it’s working then…”

Catra blinked, her anger stumbling, “What’s working?  Getting under my skin?  Is this some kind of game to you?!”

Entrapta made a show of taking her toothpick out and pointing at the girl with it. She said, “You’re not feeling dizzy anymore.  Deep breaths.”

Catra opened her mouth to snap back but paused. She hadn’t even noticed that her breathing had steadied, and the nausea that had been twisting her gut was... gone. She scowled, refusing to give in that easily. “That... doesn’t mean anything.”

Catra turned from her, her tail flicking irritably behind her to look out over the valley.  The engineer gave her back a dubious look and a shrug.  Entrapta leaned her elbows on her thighs putting her toothpick back in her teeth.  The silence nestled uncomfortably between them.  Entrapta was just about to get up again when she heard Catra say softly, “Precarious…”

Entrapta settled back.  When nothing more came from her she verbally nudged, “and… ”

She stared out at the distant horizon, her gaze unfocused, as if she were sifting through old memories, trying to pull them apart. "You had to be ready all the time.  No room for mistakes.  No one ever said it outright, but you knew.  The second you couldn’t keep up..." She paused, flexing her hands as if lost in memory, "You were just... discarded.  Like you were nothing .”

Her eyes were now unfocused, dancing back and forth.  All Entrapta could guess is that she had lapsed into reliving something terrible.  

Entrapta ached, wanting to reach out to her and try to console the girl but the reaction before about her affection kept her back.  Instead she called to her softly, “Catra… Hey…”

She sucked in a breath coming back to the now.  She continued a thought from her vision, “They were real people.  They were real!”

Entrapta searched Catra’s face, the silent urgency mixed with terror apparent in her expression.  She imagined who ‘they’ might mean.  Entrapta speculated brothers and sisters from her litter that she lost?  School age friends?  Her real parents?  Whoever ‘they’ were were someone that Catra had lost and they meant so much to her.

She looked seriously at Catra, nodding, “I understand.”

Catra’s racing heart settled, a frown came to her, “Drills…”  She wiped at her face, “Damnit… My first memories are drills.  Not a house… not a family.”  She brought her hands up following the old instruction, “Lock the last finger and the first, it makes you harder to disarm.”  

Her shoulders shrugged helplessly looking up.  Sorrowfully, she told the sky, her voice cracking high, “I want my first memories to be the day when we went to the edge of the city and played in the water, I want it to be holding Adora’s hand while we played in the sand!” She brought the heels of her hands to her leaking eyes exclaiming, “Fuck…”

She looked at Entrapta, the edge returning to her voice, “That’s what it’s like… growing up in the Fright Zone.”

Entrapta watched her.  A somber long stare as she rolled it around in her mind as she absently chewed on her toothpick.  A poison thought was taking over her mind.

 

Just how many people are broken just like her because of the arms race?  Because of my inventions?

 

Entrapta finally took a full breath, felt her legs take her weight as she got up.  Her expression was somber, eyes low.  She wanted to own it, explain everything to Catra.  Why she wasn’t allowed a childhood because of the gears of war she was greasing in Dryl while she played in the sand.  She also knew it wouldn’t do anything at this point.  The best thing she could do was try to stop things from getting worse.  So there were no more people like her.  She said it, because it was the only thing to say:

 

Entrapta said quietly, “I’m so… so sorry.”

Catra shook her head, gruffly saying, “It’s… it’s just how things are.”

Entrapta couldn’t help herself, “No…” Her eyes shifted, searching for the right words. “It doesn’t have to be like that. That’s why we’re going back to Dryl.  So that no one else has to end up like us—no more Catras, no more Alyns.  Just… kids playing in the street again, like when I was young.  Not this machine that eats blood, minds, and steel.”

Catra’s expression darkened, the deep pit of her rejection wound being aggravated by the nonsense coming from Entrapta, “You really think that, don’t you?  You think you can wander back to Dryl and stop what’s going to unfold there?  You’re going to push back the whole Horde in the end stages of its victory over the world?”  She sneered, “How?  Just How, Entrapta.  You don’t even know the first thing on what to do when we get there!  You’re not a general, you’re not even a soldier .  We’re two people! ”

Entrapta’s gaze hardened, “You keep calling me princess like it’s a slur, like all I did growing up was act like some kind of spoiled child.  You didn’t see the hours put into strategy meetings.  I managed a work crew of 20 of the best minds of Dryl as we worked on the zero gravity lattice structure that makes Vindanyte Alloy 7.”  She plucked her toothpick out of her mouth, conducting with it, “All I have to do is talk to the right people, and we’ll know where Alyn is.  Then it’s just a matter of getting the Ares sticks from my lab and taking her out.”

Catra rolled her eyes, unfazed, “Okay so the plan is then to pull on the strings that you’ve made inside your organization?  Let’s pretend that even works and you manage to kill this Alyn person, then what?  What are you going to do about the thousand or two Horde soldiers in Dryl?  Hmm?”

Entrapta opened her mouth, then faltered. For a beat, her confidence cracked, and her gaze dropped. “I… I guess after Alyn, I’d be… well, detained. Maybe killed.”

Catra rubbed at her face, “Okay… so I see why you need my help now.  That’s the worst plan ever.”

Glumly Entrapta put her toothpick back in her mouth, looking away, then back to her.  She silently made a ‘go on’ gesture with raised brows.

Catra rolled her eyes, she watched the scenic overlook, annoyedly searching her history in tactics to come up with something better.  Catra grumbled, “So getting to this person isn’t going to be done by spreading around that you’re in the city.  I don’t care how loyal your scientists are, they’re going to send out ripples and it’s going to reach her long before you do.  So we need to out-think her.”

Catra tilted her head, “I need you to think like her.  She wants to leverage pain against you.  Who do you care about still in Dryl?  Who cares about you still?”

Entrapta waggled her head slightly, rolling around the question, “Well… I guess the Starwatcher family… Orion was the only one on the council that had faith in me.  Archer isn’t a big fan though… though he did let me know Alyn was back.”  She shook her mini tablet at Catra, “He sent me a coded message.”

Entrapta shrugged, “Alright, we start there, she’s probably close to them then.  You two have a history, she would try to use your friends against you.”

Catra nodded and let the conversation stall.  She shifted to stand and was about to say something when Entrapta said quietly, “Thank you… for everything.”

The girl rolled her eyes, “Don’t, not until it works.”

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bv_sAYaIpuo

She wasn’t sure why she had drifted to this part of the woods; it just felt right. The Whispering Woods had always been alive, speaking its own quiet language.  That was home though, there was a brightness in its unspoken voice, yielding shafts of light, assurance.  Here, through the dark mirror, the voice was rough, tested, trembling, trodden on, but something deep was guarded here, perhaps under it all was the flickering embers of hope.  It was represented visually through vine, gnarl, and deep shadow.  There was a must of fungus in the air, but not one of danger, only the natural plodding of decay, life itself was everpresently blooming, in camouflage black and green un-floral blossoms.  Near, came slow winking of teal and green lights in those shades, just unnatural enough to keep them from being fireflies.  The forest clutched her in that small clearing, as though wound by a dancer’s ribbon.  Perhaps protecting her… perhaps becoming bondage.

Angella touched the radio at her shoulder, “Glimmer, Bow.  I think I might have found it.  The forest drew me in a few thousand feet west of your position.”

Glimmer’s voice answered, broken from choppy, hissing static, “Partial copy, did-... … -west?”

Angella repeated, “Yes, About a thousand feet west, do you copy?”

“-om?  I ca-...” Glimmer’s voice was clipped short, the interference was getting worse.  .

Angella clicked the radio on again to respond but just as she did, she caught one of the shifting shadows firmly in her sights.  Low, only about four feet from the ground, a pair of eyes gleamed out of the darkness.  

She said, “I think I’ve found someone.  Are there any patrols in the woods right now.”

All that came back was fuzz and a few words from Glimmer, “..Audry’s-...  -orth-... -we’re west. Mom? Careful-... woods shift-... random som-...” 

Angella heard a voice that seemed to come from all directions at once, “My, my, you do a lot of talking, don’t you?”

Angella answered, “I am Queen Angella of Brightmoon, here on a mission for the rebellion, reveal yourself.”

The figure’s glowing eyes drew closer, “And so ready to reveal that they are here for the rebellion.  You are not from around here, are you?”

She came into the light.  The woman stood with a twist to her, it was clear she was a prisoner at one point, her arms were bent at the elbow to either side, held there by an iron band, impossible to remove. Her smile, wide and almost too sharp, seemed to teeter between delight and despair, as though she were privy to a joke only she could hear.  All over her body were the numbers 2, 5 and 7 both painted and etched.  She swayed to the other side, disturbing her matted salt white hair, tarnished with dirt and sprigs of rosemary.  Her eyes were unnaturally wide, pupils filling most of the space there.  Her head jerked as though pulled by an invisible string causing her to stumble off balance.  

She lurched as she righted herself, the movement drawing her closer to Angella revealing more and more of her.  Her rags were wound together with homemade twine and made up of both Horde and Hierophant uniforms.  Her fingers slid along each other, as though delighted.  Her skirts shifted, hanging limply around her thigh on one leg and knee on the other.  

She leaned forward, something holding her back, “You seek wisdom from me?  Wisdom of the woods?  You, who rebels instead of aligns.”

It was in the way this woman’s voice scraped, masked by the lunacy of her high and low pitch.  Angella took a step back from her guessing, “Madame… Razz?”

“You accuse me?  Of having a name after all I have done?”  She lurched forward again, unveiling what was holding her back.  A half corpse in a Horde uniform was chained to the iron banding around her belly.  Her smile widened somehow, “Perhaps you bestow me my fifth name… yes… Yes… that is why you are here.  After the seventh is slain, two meet to find the fifth shard.”

Angella froze, horrified, as the woman kept moving closer, dragging the mangled body behind her with grotesque ease.  She wanted to retreat, but something in Razz’s wild determination rooted her in place.  As the woman closed the gap, the crushed rosemary and moss tangled in her hair only amplified the nauseating stench of death.

Razz produced a gem, the size of her palm, its opalescent white danced between blue, blush and orange.  Razz’s breath huffed excitedly.  She grabbed Angella’s hand and thrust the item into it.  “Do you see it??  Do you SEE it??” Razz babbled.  

Angella looked the gem over. For the briefest moment, it seemed to settle into the center of an invisible sword’s guard. Light flickered along an unseen edge, casting faint, fleeting reflections that hinted at the blade’s presence.

Razz lunged, leaning on Angella.  Now so close she could smell the nauseating stench of the corpse.  The old woman’s voice was desperate, “It will bring the breaker of the numbers here, and all shall become light!   Then all shall be dust again and life might try once more..”

With a sudden jerk, Razz cackled, her wild laughter echoing through the dense trees. She staggered back into the brush, dragging the mangled corpse behind her as though it were nothing more than a doll.  The woods seemed to swallow her whole, her voice fading into the distance, leaving only the eerie glow of will-o’-wisps to mark where she had stood.

Angella turned the stone over in her hand, a slight squint coming to her.  She thought about calling out to Razz but she couldn’t think of what else she might need from her.  The forest had produced what she was looking for, like so many times it had done for her daughter.  It was just strange to see it unfold before her.  

Angella found her hand reaching to the radio, “Glimmer?  I-… I think I have the sword.”

Chapter 23: 0119-314 A 1X ⁸

Summary:

Adora mentally goes through her history.

Alyn asks her if she's ready.

Hordak discovers an advanced diplomat chip.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S7FP-j1KHDg

Adora’s thumb pressed along the flesh of her inner elbow.  The scarring from the birth brand had always been there: 0119-314.  She was born January 19th, the three hundred fourteenth child.  It was what she entered every day into the Horde computer during her educational schooling.  She had earned every mark in her serial number after that.  

Adora had been first in line that day in the school gym, standing steady, heart pounding. She could smell the heated metal of the branding tool, its sharp tang mingling with the sterile odor of the room. When the master of marks approached, she proudly extended her forearm, feeling the air shift with the anticipation of the ritual to come. Despite the nature of the ceremony, the master wielded the tool with surprising care.  He pressed the glowing iron into her skin, sending a shock of pain through her.  Despite this, Adora didn’t make a sound; her eyes remained fixed on Shadow Weaver.  Watching her mentor’s rare, approving smile, pride blossomed bright and full within her.  It was a warmth far stronger than the brand that marked her skin with the letter A.  Top of her class.  

The 1X denoted that she was rank 1 Force Captain in battalion X.  When her thumb touched that mark and lingered there, she shifted to looking at the mirror. She had stripped down to her last layer.  She needed to see all of her marks today.  Especially today.  She let go of her elbow fully revealing to herself the wrinkled map of her discolored skin.  It was wound around the machine that the Horde had made her into.  The old scars crossed each other, they were silent roads that intersected against each other in the now, separated across time.  She looked at her reflection’s forearms.  She squinted, a knot forming in her stomach, remembering how some of these scars were earned in sparring, others taken in a desperate attempt to stop her.  She couldn’t remember which were which at this point. 

Her eyes settled on the reflection’s shoulder.  A ripple of white circles that had been left by the flashing barrel of the spy’s pistol.  Her reflection’s brows drew to each other, her mouth silently shaped, ‘wasteful’ as her fingertips lingered.  She clearly remembered the first life she took.  The Horde needed her that night.  She was justice, duty, and honor incarnate.  She was a young cadet guarding the most important building in the Horde: The Blackwire Archive.  The horde kept their most innovative projects there.  Her patrol had taken her to the outer fence.  She remembered noticing a patch in it—a repair, not a replacement.  Horde policy was to replace what failed, not to fix.  She looked around to find an out of place dark shape next to some boxes.  The person was still here.  She had trained her gun on the person ordering them to stand.  Instead they moved to run towards the fence.  She tackled them, struggled.  Somewhere in the moment they must’ve gotten their weapon out and awkwardly got their thumb in the trigger.  Their pistol barked, shattering pain wracked her body, the gun had gone off tearing a hole up through her shoulder, spattering her face with her own sinew and blood.  A frenzy must have overtaken her then, the next thing she remembered, she was covered in their blood crashing her knife down into their chest over and over causing their limbs to twitch.  She wept.  She collapsed.  Later, when her arm was wrapped to her chest.  

She was being debriefed by Shadow Weaver, a scowl on her features, “If you’d thought for even a moment,” Shadow Weaver said, her words biting and dismissive, “you would’ve taken them alive, and the Horde might have benefitted.  But, instead, you acted out of instinct, and now we gain nothing from this dead body.”  Shadow Weaver’s words mixed with her own mouth shaping them as she returned to the present, ‘Wasteful.’

She studied the shadows on her muscles.  A small nudge of pride nestled in her mind as she watched the way that they dipped and curved in the light of the room.  She struggled so hard to achieve this form that served the Horde.  It had crafted her to this, the envy of most.  Her’s was authority earned, not granted.  The soldiers she crafted after her were pale shadows of the peak of form she was.  That night drove her to be a melee fighter.  She promised herself that she would never lead from the back, from safety .  If there were risks to be taken, she would take the charge.  She would never be a royal and let men die on her behalf.  That policy caught the eye of Hordak.  It made her to seek out her last mark

She was Hordak’s 8th Vice General.  The seven that came before her were… inadequate.  The ceremony was loud… so loud.  The people had shown up in droves.  At the time she had thought that it was because they were curious about the new direction that the Horde was going to be taking under her command as Hordak’s leader of the Horde army.  Now… she couldn’t shake the notion that they were all ordered to be there.  She remembered the tremble in Hordak’s hands when he took the brand and jammed it fully into her arm like a strike.  She could almost hear the sizzle as it deeply dug into her muscles.  It rested high on the writing line that the other marks made.  The others in her life knew that this would be something that she would look at for a lifetime and their practiced hand made the mark almost pleasing.  Hordak’s 8 callously lept high on the line, any higher and it would be an exponent.  She flexed her hand closed, the expected, quiet zing of pain from his mark came to her.  She sighed and took a few steps with her bare feet to the marble table and dabbed a medicine rag against the mark.  The slow release chemical would numb the pain there for another day.  Adora twisted her neck to look over her shoulder, back at the mirror.  She had to slightly strain to catch sight of the stitchwork that was on her back.  

Her new doctor had made these marks.  Adora had had many wounds tied closed before with doctor Cryss.  Nothing like this though. She knew the four deep cuts were long. Catra—no, the woman wearing Catra’s skin—had given them to her.  They ran the length from her shoulder to just before her opposite kidney.  These twists of black nylon started before and after the two deepest gashes.  They were clearly treated differently than the other two that were closed with dissolving stitches.  Despite the time that had passed, the skin that was held with nylon was still slightly raised and irritated red.  She could tell that the skin was mismatched there.  Why change methods part way through a procedure?  She would have to ask Alyn about that later.  

 

But she was there.  

 

It startled her, noticing the flickering of the copper in the dim light.  The indifferent mannequin-like stare that the mask was shaped into was pointing at her, the doctor shifted her position, moving the focusing bell back into her pocket.  

Her tinny speaker cut the silence, “How do you feel now, Adora?”

She noticed her breath was elevated then… as though she had been briskly jogging.  It settled easily enough.  “I’m-… I’m fine.  How long were you there?” Adora said.  

Alyn held the silence for a beat, she ignored the question saying, “Warren has produced his names.  You saved many lives today, Adora.”  

She felt an involuntary smile nestle on her face, she was pleased with this, looking over the names on a sheet of paper that was in her hands.  She looked back up, handing the paper back to her, “Have them taken into processing.”

Alyn took it back, tucking it into her white jacket, “Then we are ready for the operation?”

Adora licked her lips closed.  This was really going to happen, all the spies in the horde at once were going to be exposed when she gave the order to kill the population of Dryl.  Then the Army would come in and be the heroes.  The guilty would be punished today.

Alyn’s speaker pressed, “Adora?”

She asked, “When will the stitches come out, Alyn?”

Alyn shifted her weight, her voice growing impatient, “That’s not the answer to the question, Adora.”

“Yes.” Adora’s voice cut back.  She stared hard at Alyn and sharply asked, “Now when will the stitches come out, Alyn?”

Stone still, Alyn answered, “Soon…” before she turned, leaving Adora to reflect on the truth of her scars.  

 

The light shone down on the surgery table.  Hordak’s eyes squinted, studying.  

Director Riven was face down on the operating table.  

Hordak said, “Strange.  Again.”

The terrified nurse’s hands trembled and she reached for the button.  The man’s body shot rod tight as the current shunted through him.  There was no other noise but the hum of the discharging capacitors.  Riven sagged when the nurse let go of the button.  Tears ran down her cheeks as she looked back to the once proud director with electrodes shoved into the back of his ribs and foot.  She looked back to the voltage now set to 752.  

Hordak brought his clawed hands to his lips in thought.  Another nurse hurried in and slapped an x-ray onto a light box showing a spiral fan of extremely thin wires that had bloomed from the base of his neck.  

“Sir…” he breathlessly said.  

Hordak walked from the sharp, focusing, light over to inspect the item, as he drew closer, he asked, “This is not an error in developing the film?”

The nurse blurted, “N-no sir!  We would never make a mistake like that!”

He leaned towards it, tapping his lips considering.  He fully turned to the nurse and challenged him, “This… picture indicates that this man no longer has a brain stem.  Yet he came in here under his own mobility.”

The nurse visibly trembled, “Sir… we developed it three times to be sure th-... that’s what’s inside his head.”  He fearfully added, “If the maintenance crew did their jobs correctly and the tools are correct then-...”

Hordak’s glare narrowed, stopping the nervously babbling man.  He looked back to Riven, the shape of it all was becoming clear. 

Hordak spoke to his patient, “It makes sense now… you don’t ignore pain.  The device has simply turned off your ability to react to it.”

Hordak leaned over the magicat’s spine, plucking the tweezers from his tray.  His red eyes studied the circular white circle embedded into his neck.  Soft green light sequenced along its radial lines framed by thin coppery vindanyte wires that ran from it and into his flesh.  Hordak had used similar chips from his brothers’ failed invasion of Etheria.  They had made crude diplomatic puppets that were of little use beyond delivering and receiving messages.  But this?  This was clearly two generations ahead of that technology.  This wasn’t just hijacking nerves to make a simulacrum of life.  This was installed into living tissue, overriding the original mind and making it a conscious prisoner forced to watch from behind its own eyes.  

Hordak muttered softly, “.... as though the soul could see, but do nothing at all.”  His voice shifted to orders, “Prepare the surgery room, I’m going to be removing this device from Riven.”

The X-ray technician blanched, “Sir!  He doesn’t have motor functions anymore, they’re controlled by the device now!  Removing it means-...” 

Hordak’s indifferent stare made him realize that this wasn’t a request for input.  

“Y-... yes sir.” the nurse said.  

Hordak started towards the door, seeing the familiar outline of Director Helinor.  The man saluted as he approached, handing out a paper, “Sir, Operation Torque Snap is underway.”

The leader visibly paused, he took the paper from him, looked over the header and swept his eyes over it.  Sure enough, the contingency for a full attack on Dryl was in his hands.  

He looked to Helenor and nodded, causing him to salute and withdraw.  He looked back at the paper.  

 

He had never issued the order.

Chapter 24: Falling Stars

Summary:

Almost 500 views! Thank you all for reading! ^__^ share and kudos if you're having a good time. I always welcome feedback! Things start to get really grim in the coming chapters so brace yourself <3

Trigger Warnings - Graphic depictions of war, graphic depictions of violence, cyborg medical horror, loss of agency / autonomy.

Now the summary -

Catra and Entrapta see what's happening to Dryl from a distance

Entrapta makes a break for her old city. Catra tackles her.

Adora walks the streets of Dryl, finds flowers, finds people.

Alyn finishes a procedure on Warren.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kSxMsfGUJyo

Catra saw it first on the horizon, “That is a lot of smoke coming out of Dryl.”

The two were almost half a day’s journey away from the capital city.  The late autumn was beautiful in the comfortably chilly, cloudy overcast.  

Entrapta smirked out of the side of her face, “There’s always smoke coming out-...” As if on cue, an explosion burst in the air above the city.  They saw a drone breaking into pieces high above the city, they could only watch as it spattered the ground in fire as it crashed.  They stared in horror as another part of the city had a bright flash that winked on, bloomed yellow, then red and was finally eaten by dark growing black smoke.  Entrapta brought her hand to her mouth in shock, there it trembled as her skin paled.  

Then, a thundering pop came to them, then another and another.  At first it was hard to see what was happening, but it became obvious as the clusters started to swarm.  On the horizon, miles away, was a dark cloud rushing towards Dryl.  Hundreds of black spots were starting to cloud in a haze as the appleseed transports began landing at the base of Anvyl mountain creating platoon after platoon.  The transports launched back as designed once their single occupant payloads were delivered, causing the skies to look much like a thick storm of gnats.  Dryl’s automated anti aircraft guns roused from their sleep and began to flack the air, carving bright wounds across the grey sky.  They were answered only seconds later by orange tears from heaven itself.  Horde orbital missiles screamed in from the lower atmosphere, shattering the outer walls, permanently silencing the turrets on the ramparts.  Seconds later, the very air began to shake with the sound of the impacts.  It was replaced by the steady drone of the pods continuing to drop from sonic speed, rolling like a distant thunderstorm.  

They could only stare in those moments, overwhelmed at the sudden story unfolding before them.  Finally, trembling, Catra reached to her shoulder radio but hesitated, a chill running through her.  Entrapta’s voice choked out, “That’s… that’s so many more soldiers than they need.”  Her expression was shattered, as she stared at Catra, “There’s only a few thousand people-…. Civilians… left in Dryl…”

Catra flicked her radio on.  It was chaos.  The line was flooded with shrieks of confusion about what was happening, demands to cease fire, scramble defenses around key points, and sometimes just plain death screams.  Entrapta’s throat made a sob as tears welled in her eyes.  Suddenly, a long dual-tone sounded for five seconds causing the channel to clear.  A crackling, but familiar voice followed, “This is Vice General Adora.  All targets in Dryl are hostile.  Repeat: All targets are hostile.  Continue Operation Torque Snap, Code: Starfall”  The dual tone sounded again followed by a dozen or so voices filling the radio with questions and demands for answers.  

Entrapta stared at Catra in numbing terror.  She wanted to scream but could only muster a whisper, “What-... what does that mean?”  She grabbed Catra’s shoulders, suddenly finding her voice, “What does that mean!?”

Catra struggled out of her grip, “I don’t know!!  I don’t know!!”

Entrapta shook her head at Catra, her bile lurching up to the back of her throat.  She backed away from her, towards the city.  Her breath caught as she said desperately, “I gotta…. Gotta go, I gotta get there…. I gotta get there!!”  She twisted and ran desperately full-tilt towards the city.  

Catra watched her go, stunned as to the woman’s reaction to the doom the city was facing.  She took an instinctive step to follow, then another.  She was going to get herself killed if she just ran in there.  Catra’s pace quickened, but she wasn’t sure why.  Soon she was sprinting on her fours catching up quickly to Entrapta with her tail dancing behind her for stability.  

“Entrapta!” She shouted, the thin air sapping her strength quickly.  

Hearing her name only caused Entrapta to glance back, her halo hairbands sequenced brighter indicating that they were about to help her run.  In the last second Catra pounced.  The two women tumbled on the slanted mountain, dangerously they whirled over each other getting a dozen scrapes, landing more than once.  Finally they came to a stop in a heap of limbs with the girl on top.  

Panting Catra scolded, “What the hell are you doing!?”  She grabbed Entrapta’s shoulders, “We’ve lost!  Did you see how many soldiers-” She was cut off by Entrapta starting to squirm under her grip, her purple hair was gathering around them to pull Catra off.  Catra gave her a firm shake banging Entrapta’s head into the ground snapping her back to focus.  “Fucking listen to me!!” Catra shouted.  

Entrapta bucked under her shouting something desperate.  Catra grabbed her face making her look at her, “Are you stupid!?  All you’re gonna be is another body.  You’re supposed to be some genius!  Think damnit!  Otherwise you’re going to play right into whatever this Alyn person is doing!”

Entrapta’s eyes were tearing, she hyperventilated air.  Her voice was broken but she rose from the delirious haze that her mind was.  “She’s… its a spectacle… um…”

Catra let go of her face.  Entrapta sputtered, “This… this isn’t surgical… this… this must be doing this for-... for some other reason.”

Entrapta’s crisis under control, Catra had a moment to think, herself.  She gripped her radio, “This is Force Captain Catra.”  Impossibly, voices started to quiet on the channel.  She repeated, less formally, “Adora, this is Catra.”

The silence spoke volumes.  Finally Adora’s voice answered, “What do you want?”

She wetted her lips, “Adora… this is crazy, you have to stop this.  I don’t know what’s happened to you but-...” She felt her eyes water, “You-... you promised you would fix things in the Horde, not-… not this.  Please… you have to stop.  Please… for me.”

The radio clicked, opening the channel on the other end.  Quiet shrieks of death came distantly, other war noises tapped through.  After an eternity, Adora said, “The guilty will be punished.” and then, the line went dead.  

Catra called back immediately, “Adora!  Adora stop this!”

Silence.

Her voice cracked at her next attempt, “Adora?”

The silence held another moment before voices filled the channel again, some asking for Catra’s orders.  Catra rubbed at the tears building in her eyes.  She mustered strength in her voice answering the open channel, “Stop operations… Do not fire on civilians, do not fire on friendlies.”

Entrapta, from underneath said, “I don’t think that’s going to stop this.  That's what the radio has been saying this whole time.”

A different kind of anger ignited in Catra then, sharper, more focused.  She stood, grabbing Entrapta by the wrist and hauling her up.  Her grip was tight, claws digging in, not enough to draw blood but enough to hurt. “She’s chosen her side. This has to stop.”  She took a breath, her ears pinning back as she looked toward the distant smoke.  “To hell with the plan.  We’re going in.  We’re stopping this.  And we’re stopping her.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MZuxwgyAR8Q

The city was burning.  Adora walked with mechanical precision along the gridded street, her black greatsword resting across her shoulders, nudging against her helm as she moved.  Around her, select Force Captains broke off in swift, silent intervals to eliminate threats. She was the vice general of the horde and today was a day of work.  Today blood was shed.  She halted briefly, bending to pick up the remains of a bouquet, now spattered with the blood of one of the many lives that are now ended.

She turned the cluster of orange marigolds in her fingers, the thick, glistening beads of burgundy red pooling on the petals, staining their sunlit hue.  Her armored gauntlet brushed a bloom delicately, almost apologetically, as if to excuse the treacherous blood marring its simple beauty.  Somewhere in her, a half-formed whisper of regret stirred.  A single petal, torn and darkened, clung to her gauntlet, and she scraped it off with her thumb, watching it fall to the dirt.

Screams echoed off the geometric bunker-like buildings.  The lines of the street stretched in perfect, clinical intervals, interrupted every fifty meters.  Nestled in gutter corners were small clumps of yellow and brown leaves, long dead, framing raised marble flower beds where asters stirred gently in the wind.  She looked forward, noticing a layer of black smoke unfurling over the next intersection, moving deliberately as if it had somewhere to be.  A piercing scream sliced through the noise, cut short by the sharp sound of nearby gunfire.  For a moment, silence followed—until distant semi-automatic fire resumed, breaking the quiet with methodical tapping.

At Adora’s steady pace, her Force Captains fell in line, a rhythmic march amidst the city’s structured chaos.  An overdriven engine whined in the sky, pulling her gaze upward.  One of Dryl’s drones spiraled out of control, casting a trembling shadow as it tumbled beyond the city walls.  The flowers slipped from her fingers, scattering to the ground.  The soldier behind her stepped on them without a glance.

The shot hit her with a sudden, sharp pressure at the top of her helmet, making her misstep.  She readied her greatsword, natural instincts taking hold from the attack; but her captains were already peeling away to storm the building from which the bullet came.  Before she could enter the building to assist, a piercing scream echoed, then cut short.  The limp body was cast out onto the pavement with all the weight of her unspoken orders.  Adora steadied her sword back onto her shoulders, taking in the seven other bodies scattered up the street.  They were the bodies of rebels, traitors, yet each one had faced her without hesitation.  Their resolve might have impressed her once.  Now, the ringing in her ears only reminded her they were broken cogs in the machinery of Dryl, voices that would poison the unified chorus of the Horde.  A better Etheria couldn’t be built on those willing to betray.  She could almost hear the words echoing in her mind, an old mantra: To resist unity is to defy order.  Only those willing to serve can be given power.  Only loyalty builds. 

She tightened her grip, forcing the unsettling twinge in her gut back down where it belonged.  These people were chaos, and the Horde was order.  She would pull the chaos of these threads into a beautiful woven tapestry.  

The guilty would be punished.  

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fYh9qDwBTE8

He stopped shrieking as the chip fanned out its tendrils into his mind.  Warren’s throat constricted and opened but no breath came to speak.  His gaze darted, helpless, to Alyn’s mask where a cracked speaker cooed, “Much better.”

She stepped back, regarding him with cold satisfaction.  They were on the raised platform overlooking Courtly Commons.  Horde soldiers filed in below, dragging bodies into the square leaving bloody trails and piling them into the center.  

“Watch,” she commanded. Her voice, cold, detached, "Watch as your debt comes to term.  A thousand lives for the thousand butchered in Lyte while you cowered in your bunker.”

The soldiers gathered the bodies from the surrounding buildings, they were being brought together in a large pile.  One by one, each contributed a line of crimson blood as they were dragged to the horrific vision being sculpted.  As each pressed down on the next, a red, glistening branching river began to flow from the pile.  It flowed down towards the storm drain that was about fifteen feet away.  

“She tried to save them.” Her words grew sharper, like a wound being torn open. “Now you will bear witness to the horror you hid from before. This time, with your own people.” She leaned in close.  Her speaker replayed Warren’s own voice back to him on the day that they executed Alyn. “This is justice.”

The invading nano-wires tightened their grip on Warren’s mind.  He was forced to watch from the platform as explosions rocked the city, drones spiraled down in fire and smoke.  The horrific screams wailed like a horrible chorus, punctuated by the relentless pop of gunfire.

Tears streamed down Warren’s face, his mind raging against the unnatural thing overtaking him.  He could still feel his wife and daughter’s hands loosen from his shoulders, he was joining them.  More and more he could feel the connection as more and more of him was wired to the new network.  He could feel their minds’ tired screams coming through at the horrors of being trapped inside their flesh.  They could bear witness, but were helpless to work their own controls.

Warren felt his muscles twitching as the system finished the tertiary connections, a gentle burning sensation washed across his skin in patches.  His throat stopped clutching and opening, even that was no longer his to control.  

Alyn shifted,  taking steps on her flat black shoes to the podium that was once his place of authority.  She retrieved her clipboard, folding her arms over it, turning to witness the last twitches of his resistance shed from him.  She remembered her head locked in the box now a few feet away from Warren.  She remembered the taste of fear in her mouth, what an alien emotion that seemed now.

She gave her first instruction to Warren, “You should thank me for this.  With that chip installed you will live to see the titan that Dryl will become under the Horde.  You will forever be with your family, connected deeper than any physical body could.”

He heard his voice say, “Thank you, Administrator.”

Alyn moved to his side.  He found his body rising to stand next to her.  She brought her fingers up to touch her indifferent copper mask.  Alyn’s voice pitching distortedly high in malevolent laughter. Her voice snapped back to something understandable, “It’s almost time for you to arrive, Entrapta.  Almost….” She drummed her fingers fervently at the mask’s lips, “Come and see what you have brought upon yourself.”

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Entrapta Phyllipina