Chapter Text
“No.”
Adora had no warning other than the bunching of muscles under her hand and that thin, whispered sound of negation. Catra spun and raked her claws across Adora’s face, narrowly missing her eye.
“Ow! Hey! Stop!” Adora stumbled back, falling onto her butt from the unprovoked attack. Instinctively, she bounced up from the ground into a fighting stance, looking and listening for whatever had made her companion lash out so violently. Blood and tears dripped down her face as the gashes throbbed and stung. Adora pressed her sleeve hard against her face, fighting to clear her vision and meet the threat. She looked wildly around for her companion. Where had Catra gone?
The night was quiet all around them. The still water of the pool they stood beside gave off a gentle, greenish glow. The sheltering trees held fireflies and the only sound were the chirps of crickets.
“I can’t.” The words were barely audible. “Please…” Adora didn’t know who Catra was talking to. Wide cat eyes stared up from underneath the shadow of a pine before they blinked away.
“Catra? Can’t …what?” Adora yelled. Her friend (girlfriend? Lover? Adora knew what she wanted to call Catra, but they had not talked about it yet) scuttled away, further into the underbrush. “What can’t you do? Catra! Wait!”
Too late. Catra was gone and her ever-present companion, Melog, had disappeared too. The night stayed quiet. Nothing came out of the trees to threaten them, she heard no distant sounds of distress.
Slowly, Adora walked back, listening for Catra and keeping her eyes on the shadows. Catra had never tagged her with her claws like that. The bleeding would not stop, no matter how hard she pressed. Her eyes watered, spilling salt into the cut.
What just happened?
Something about that particular forest pond always made Catra’s stomach clench. A relic of the last battle with Horde Prime, it glowed and shimmered with unnatural lights even during the day. If Catra looked at it too long she always felt like something lurked underneath, ready to pull her under. She avoided it altogether at night.
Tonight though, she and Adora had gone walking, aimless until Catra realized they were near that creepy pool.
“Hey, have you seen the pond over here?” Adora chirped. “It’s pretty. Bow is trying to figure out what makes it glow. Come on.”
“I’ve seen it.” Catra grunted. She wanted to pull away, to run, but that was just being silly. “Glowy water. Kind of pretty, I guess.”
“Have you seen it at night?” Adora asked, taking her hand."Let's go look at it."
Catra did not want to get closer to the damned place, she didn't care why it glowed and definitely didn't want to see it at night. But, that simple gesture had been Catra’s undoing for the last month. All the blonde girl ever had to do was take her hand and Catra would follow her to the end of the universe.
“Isn’t this gorgeous?!” Adora stopped on the trail to spread her arms, encompassing the scene. Catra took two steps further down the path and froze.
Cast out the shadows.
The pool glowed green under the moons. The forest had grown impossibly fast since the day the magic came back, growing a year’s worth in mere days. The trees crowded closely around the pool, their branches arching over the trail to form a tunnel. Winking fireflies seemed to be eyes, staring out of the darkness. The world tilted and Catra shivered.
Cast out the shadows.
Vividly, the former Horde soldier remembered how Horde Prime laid his hand on her shoulder, in the green light of his acid bath. She could feel his claws bite into her flesh. She wanted to recoil, to fight him the way she had fought so many clones. His will held her still.
Snip. Snip. Snip.
She could still feel the touch of one of the clones as they cut away her long mane of hair.
Cast out the shadows.
They led her to the pool. She was powerless. She couldn’t resist. Couldn’t struggle. Couldn’t scream.
Adora…It was worth it for Adora. She had to believe it.
Cast out the shadows.
A hand touched her shoulder, the back of her neck. A sharp, burning pain. Horde Prime was touching her again. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t move.
She knew what waited for her in that pool. If she thought he would merely drown her, she would go willingly, happily. She could tell herself one last story; she could be a noble martyr and never have to worry about hurting again.
But, no.
Her luck could never run that way. He would never let her go. Never end her suffering. Horde Prime’s harsh light would illuminate the darkest, most private corners of her soul. Places that Shadow Weaver had searched for but never come near. Places she had always protected with her bravado, her outrage, her fists, her claws and teeth. Moments of beauty and grace that she hid even from herself, most days. Exposed by the white flame, her passions, her love, her anger, her loss, her grief was the insignificant spitting of a kitten. It meant nothing. She meant nothing.
The peace of the grave was denied to her and she was to be consumed with Horde Prime’s peace of meaninglessness. Nothing mattered. Nothing had ever mattered. She was nothing but a tool to be discarded once she was no longer useful.
The light beckoned her to give up, to consent. She would be safe in Horde Prime’s light. All pain, all pleasure would be burned away. The light promised healing, forgetfulness, rest. All she had to do was let it happen.
“No.”
One word changed the universe. Small and fragile though it was, the word released her. She could move, she could breathe. She leaped up into the air, spun, and raked her claws across Horde Prime’s face.
She crouched at his feet as he stumbled, then she scurried off to the side. There was a way out of here, she was sure of it. She dashed into the darkness surrounding the dais, where the clones slept eerily in their pods, waiting to be born.
Horde Prime’s light casts out all shadows.
“Catra!”
“I can’t.” She whispered. “Please.” No one would hear. No one ever heard her. No one would save her. A break in the darkness showed her a path. She ran headlong into the night, fleeing into the velvet depths of the overhanging trees, she found the trail they walked in on and kept running.
Running hurt. That was good, that was easy pain. Pain her body accepted and expected. She focused on the three-steps-breathe-in-three-steps-breathe-out rhythm to center herself. Burning calves, aching thighs. If she was fast enough, she could outrun the fear.
It might have been ten minutes before she realized Melog paced beside her, easily keeping up with her sprint. She stumbled to a stop.
What just happened?