Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Out on the edge of the prairie, beyond the fields and the village gate, beyond the guard posts and lantern light, well beyond where her "mother" admonished her not to tread - beyond it all, a young girl roamed with the galaxy swirling in her mismatched eyes.

High above, she had heard, a meteor show was due to pass by, bringing with it the ancient spirits that both haunted and blessed their ancestral lands. If you managed to catch one, they had the power to grant any wish - even beyond what the village shamans could conjure through their divine connections. Their stellar power was said to be magic in the raw, the very sinew that held reality together, and to taste it - that was a temptation this wide-eyed girl could not resist.

She'd heard, too, of the curses rendered on those who dared to make a deal with the ancient spirits, those who tried to extend their lives frivolously or bring back the dearly departed needlessly. Such were the ghost stories told to scare the young ones, especially when they misbehaved or dreamed beyond their station.

But she was not so foolish in her adolescence to desire something so selfish, so contradictory to the universe’s natural order. Rather, as she plodded along further through the bogs and fens that encircled her village's borders, water filling her shoes impertinently with every step, her mind was resolved on a single wish - the one solution to the question that had endlessly troubled her young life.

If she could not feel, if she could not become attached, if she could not love anyone ever again - that would be the only way to survive.

And so through the marshland, her earnest desires compelled her on, step after aimless step, eyes drawn to the heavens above. The sun had set long ago and the planet's several moons now glowed in rich cerulean and chardonnay hues. It hadn't been long, though, since her "mother" had set out in search of her, phosphorus torch in hand, worried now that the girl's earlier remarks had been more than an empty promise.

They would not find her, however, not for how far she'd traveled out of bounds. She was alone now out on the edge of her world, wondering absent-mindedly what would happen if she walked on forever. Would she be able to cross the plains without tiring, or climb the mountains beyond without freezing? Perhaps she could, if her resolve was strong enough. After all, it was those lands beyond that had claimed nearly everyone she held dear, claimed them in a reaper's bloodbath that was never sated. She had to see it for herself one day - not the battlefields, but the places where her parents might have fallen. Maybe, just maybe, that inch of mud they had managed to claim had been worth it in the end.

Then, just as the sounds of imagined gunfire echoed through her ears, the first star fell and threatened to split all of Halfmoon asunder. Another star fell soon after, followed by a third, a fourth, and innumerable more until meteors trickled down like gentle springtime rain. Their arcing descents traced a glowing trail through the girl's blue-and-pale-yellow eyes, even as their tails vanished into the shadowed ground below. There, she expected each sun to wedge itself in the soft peat and glow with the pole star’s radiance - celestial, omnipotent, and yet so, so attainable.

But to her surprise, the sharp report of the world splitting apart never came; indeed, what should have surely been a calamity made nary a sound upon impact. Instead, as the first stars landed in the plain's pools and ponds, their fiery hearts rebounded against the water's placid surface and bounced frenetically until they winked out of existence. They giggled as well - each carefree and elated like a child unburdened by destiny - as they careened and skittered to their timely demise in the moory shallows at each puddle’s edge.

On and on, the girl watched the stellar ballet, her thoughts now absorbed with each orb's artful relevés and tendus. In this state of blissful peace she would have gladly wondered the night through, forgetting her reason for stepping beyond the barrier in the first place. Her fate, however, was not so easily distracted. Fate, after all, rarely loses track of time. 

Right on cue, as the dance grew to its climax, a star appeared directly overhead, its nucleus alive with tongues of sapphire and burgundy flame. Looking up, the girl felt her body ignite with the rakish audacity needed to see this trial through to the bitter end. It was now or never , her animal heart beat into her ears. Sink or swim. Shine or burn out.

Though the meteor came directly for her, like a bullet ripping through the wine-dark skies, she did not flinch or jump from its path. She did not cower nor even cry aloud, for she was not afraid of what was to come. Instead, her pulse raced with anticipation as she placed out her hands and welcomed the heavenly guest, her heart beyond bursting to accept this intoxicating gift.

With a final howl, the comet split the air and collapsed into the girl's open palms, its momentum deadened instantly as she dug in her razor-sharp claws. Having closed her eyes involuntarily at the moment of impact, the girl now opened them and beheld the stuff of legends, the very forbidden fruit her would-be protectors had long warned her against eating.

From its smooth, iron-grey nucleus rose salamander tongues of carmine and tangerine, each waving back and forth in the plain's gentle breeze. Though brilliant, its light was not blinding, like a diamond in the sun or a soprano on the stage. Neither embers nor heat radiated from its core, either, tricking the girl momentarily into a strange synesthesia while her mind tried to reconcile the lack of proportional, burning agony.

She waited and waited, but the pain never came, even as several stunned minutes went by; only triumph and the chilling absence of warmth smoldered in its place. As it turned out, the meteorite was quite cool to the touch - cool like the ground in autumn when winter first bore its teeth; cool like the mountain ice she'd only ever enjoyed as a traveling merchant's treat. In her hands, the object now felt like a crisp drink of water on parched lips. And if only, if only she could lift it to her mouth and drink it down slowly, letting it cascade down her throat and into her core where it might mingle with her soul and shield her from ever, ever again feeling the arid ache of loss.

Just as she wished, in the deep recesses of her heart, it happened.

One minute, the mass of boreal fire was cupped in her hands like so much nectar from a desert oasis. The next, it was coursing tasteless over her palate, its fluid form warming her throat as it trickled down, drop by drop. It did not burn like the bitter liquid she'd been offered at the wake, but it did light a fire in the girl's core all the same - a fire that at first felt manageable, but quickly grew to lick and whip and claw at every fiber of her being.

Soon, the fire inside her demanded its freedom, an escape route as a ransom for simply eating her alive. For just a moment, as the inferno raged to its zenith, the girl regretted her choice to reach for the stars. It had been a folly from the very beginning and now, that same quest for power would be her demise if she couldn't dislodge the blaze with a final, desperate grasp at her sweltering chest...

And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, it is gone. The pain, the infernal burning - it all passed in a perfect moment of release. At first, the girl assumed that the punishment had taken its course and that her mortal coil had been snuffed out at the other end. But as a full breath filled her living lungs once more, she was able to see clearly and look down at what she held in her trembling hands.

There, nestled in her palms and purring gently, was a new mass of ethereal, electric indigo. Warm to the touch, it thrummed with a living energy the girl had only experienced while cradling a newborn child. Something about it felt familiar as it lifted its kitten-like head and blinked its lapis lazuli eyes curiously. As well it should, she later realized; after all, even through a lifetime of hardship, it would be impossible to forget one's own heart.

"Catra!"

Without warning, a panicked voice shattered the moment’s tranquility and reverberated in the girl's newly attentive ears. At first, she assumed it was the voice of her furious "mother" or even a town guard sent to again drag her home. But then the voice cut through again, shaking and urgent as it sliced through the arcane-charged air.

"Catra! Catra!"

Turning back in the direction of town, the girl spotted someone running toward her, their strides stuttering as they sank into the glen's soft soil. She looked like no one the girl had ever seen before, like no other being on all of Halfmoon, as far as she knew. Even through the darkness, her nocturnal eyes could make out the figure's athletic form, her flowing blonde hair, her deep, unyielding bluebell eyes. They, too, felt familiar - cloying familiar. But precisely why, the girl could not begin to guess.

"Catra! Melog! It's me, Adora!"

Now just meters away, the stranger stumbled again but managed to maintain her rapid pace. Her aura was deeply desperate now, her pleading beyond what the girl could ignore.

"I know how to help you now. We can still save you!"

Stepping forward to meet the approaching stranger, the girl parted her lips to respond. But as she took her first step in their direction, the world beneath them suddenly yawned with an inky, baritone roar. 

Like a black hole in reality, the marshy ground opened up and began to draw the stranger in, even as the girl was left unaffected at the event horizon. Down, down some invisible current pulled her, despite her fervent attempts to kick and defy her lot. Just as all hope looked lost and her head began to sink beneath the onyx waves, the stranger raised her voice a final time, her plea barely audible above the portal’s final, miserable moan.

"Find me in the future!"

For a few haunting moments, the stranger’s words echoed and carried through the valley. But soon, her last testament faded and reality renewed itself, without a stitch or a fiber or a single blade of grass out of place. The portal was gone and all was quiet once more. 

As swiftly as she'd arrived, the stranger was gone, leaving behind only the faint glow of her magic eyes as a keepsake. It was all the girl had to go on, all she had to remember the visitor by as she turned her attention back to the mewing, magical creature in her hands. Whatever that had been, she mused in silence, it was of no consequence now. Nothing would be of consequence from now on, so long as she kept this ancient spirit close at hand.

Closing her eyes once more, the girl let the new world wash over her. Crickets chirped in the tall grass, frogs croaked and gossiped among the lily pads, and a nervous corvid shuffled back into the underbrush. Above her, the meteor shower trailed off and the lights from the village far in the distance began to wink out. All that was left now was a single gleam out on the edge of the prairie and the girl who swallowed a star.

Chapter Text

Its hull free of soldiers and the artifacts of conflict, a worn steam train crawled slowly through Port Evergarden on its way to a restful slumber uptown. Stories above, where the engine's coal-black smoke rose and twisted toward the heavens, a young woman's bluebell eyes stared off toward the sunset, wistfully imagining what she could accomplish beyond the horizon. There was still work to be done before she could call it quits and close up shop for the night. But such pressing tasks didn't distract her from her heart's earnest ambitions, which longed to serve where the dogs of war hunted.

Down below on the cobblestone street, long shadows stretched from street lamps which had just begun to glow with anticipatory light. Golden rays from the descending sun blanketed energetic children and weary factory workers alike as they made their way home for the evening meal. Even in the laborer's weary limbs, there radiated a kind of unspoken energy - the very same energy that had persisted for months in the hearts of Bright Moon's countrymen. After all, Adora had been discourteously reminded, there was a war going on and everyone, everyone had a part to play in victory.

Everyone, it seemed, except the lonely owner of the city's third most popular flower shop.

Since the Kingdom of Bright Moon formally joined the so-called "Princess Alliance," it had been all buntings and unbridled patriotism. Every day, new platoons of fresh academy graduates marched down the city's main causeway and received a hero's goodbye while they boarded their frontline-bound trains. Brass bands played them out as they rolled free of the station, waving with eager grins at their families in the shrinking distance. To an outside observer, like a certain cat-eared sorceress slipping through the city's shadows, it almost looked like a joyous occasion - joyous, she thought, but only in a way the damned could relish.

Emotional as they were, there was hardly a tear shed at these partings. As had been promised from the onset, this was to be a swift war, what with the kingdom's superior military might and unmatched resolve. It didn't matter that the neighboring kingdoms of Salineas and Candila had been little able to hold back the Horde's shock troops and tech-reinforced bots. Bright Moon had the vim, the vigor, the moxie needed to get a fighting force to the front lines and back before the first eve of Candlenights -  on a stretcher, in a coffin, or otherwise.

Adora had heard all the flag-waving tunes, of course - she couldn't miss them from the third story workroom at her late mother's beloved shop. She'd known the words long before this conflict spun up, having spent just as many hours over the years training in the back yard as she had wrapping boutonnieres. Now, having set aside the tools of her trade to gaze longingly out her cracked window, she listened to the far off cheers of yet another parade, imagining what she would look like garbed in her kingdom's crimson and grey fatigues.

After untold minutes in her golden hour trance, the city's proud clocktower rang an even six chimes and snapped Adora out of her daydream. A seventh report followed soon after, but rather than ringing round and hollow over the port city, it echoed sharp and precise, like all of its owner's handy work. A warm, almost sisterly voice accompanied the call, prompting Adora to glance up from her work bench and take in the elegantly-dressed visitor in her midst.

"We're all going out, Adora. You're joining us this time, right?"

Adora straightened up and surveyed her guest's summer-hued finery. Her dress was a far cry from the modest style the shop's humble team typically wore during work hours, and her decorated hat carried all the grandeur of a capital city debutante. Adora's more practical slacks and loose-fitting shirt stuck out as boorish by comparison, though Adora herself hardly minded. She'd never had a taste for high fashion in all her years, and her employees' voguish tendencies had never much rubbed off on her.

Blinking a couple times to whisk away her lingering aspirations, Adora shook her head and tried her best to sound apologetic.

"Not tonight, no. You and the rest of the girls go ahead, Netossa. I have to finish these tonight."

Adora gestured over to the stack of flower crowns that had occupied her hands since lunchtime. Even though they couldn't have been more perfect, without a single daisy or sprig of baby's breath out of place, the older woman looked mildly cross at the excuse.

"No, nuh-uh, not this time." Netossa pushed off the door frame and strolled over to the work table, nabbing up one of the finished crowns and twirling it on her finger as she went.  "You need to take a break every now and then, Adora. You're practically working yourself to the bone as it is. This is just for one night - it won't hurt."

To accent her plea, Netossa pitched the laurel off her finger and directly onto Adora's blonde crown. Adora could only manage a playful shove and a grin in response as she turned to glance out the window once more.

"Stop it! You'll mess them up."

"And what if I do, huh? You'll have plenty of time to fix them tomorrow - after you've had a night to relax and enjoy a drink and think about something other than the shop's bottom line."

Adora knew she had a point, what with the 16 hour days she'd been pulling lately. But idle hands were the devil's workshop, she'd heard once in her youth. And besides, she'd take a break on her own terms soon enough, once she'd earned such a luxury.

"Netossa, I'm serious. You all go ahead and enjoy the evening. If I can get these done tonight, I'll be able to fit in more deliveries tomorrow morning. I have to finish balancing this month's ledger, too, or else everyone will get paid late again. Oh, and I should probably..."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Netossa sighed with a well-practiced look of exasperation. "Suit yourself, I guess. We'll be down at the Sword and Unicorn if you change your mind. First drink's on me if you do."

"I'll hold you to that."

"You better!"

With a wink, Netossa began to make her way out before stopping in the doorway and looking back over her shoulder.

"But seriously - don't stay up all night working on these, got it? Get outside, breathe some fresh air, enjoy the nice day. You deserve it.“

Adora grinned and nodded, a genial twinkle in her eyes.

“We’ll see."

Snatching up her wire shears once more, Adora grabbed a crown from the half-finished stack and set about tightening down the outermost band. But no sooner had she wound down the first spur than had a chorus of excited yelps echoed from the adjacent communal work room. A clatter of hard-toed boots followed after while the shop's youngest florist raised her voice to gloat.

"See, see! That was her just now! Standing on the clocktower's minute hand, just like I told you she would!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Frosta," one of the new girls shot back, almost smug. "That was probably an owl or big jay or something.”

“There’s no way that was an owl! It had to be her. That had to be the Witch of the Crimson Wastes! I watched her walk through the air and land on the clock tower and everything.”

Another girl chimed in, gossip succulent like pomegranate nectar on her lips. “She's more of a hawk than an owl, from what I hear. I bet she was looking for her next prey.”

“Yeah, I heard that she uses her magic to charm girls that she fancies and then rips their heart out when she’s done with them.”

“She’s a heart-breaker, that’s for sure." Even Netossa had paced over to the window now, from what Adora could hear. "My cousin over in Salineas was sure she met Catra once. She said that she only escaped because another girl caught her eye before the end of the night. Scary to think a witch that powerful is so fickle, too.”

For a few minutes longer, the gaggle stood around and gawked at the wide window, the supposed sorceress now gone from sight. But soon enough, they all gave up on their impromptu bird watching and made their way for the door, their shined boots pounding rhythmically on the worn spiral staircase as they descended back to ground level.

Soon, the workshop was silent again, save for the skitter of soot sprites searching the vacant floor for sweet morsels. In that silence, Adora quickly found her rhythm and worked through her remaining crowns in a matter of minutes. With the batch set aside, she finally paused and rose from her stool, the stiffness in her back and legs becoming too great to ignore. After a snappy stretch, she ambled out into the main workroom and glanced out toward the distant clocktower, wondering absentmindedly if perhaps this witch of legend had returned to her roost.

There was no one to be seen there, though, just as there was no one left to talk to in the shop. Instead, a single wrapped box rested on the room's central oak table, its somber black bow glistening in the setting sunlight. Noticing it as she turned to inspect the cluttered room, Adora snatched it up and checked the tag, recalling immediately the package's contents.

Inside rested a solemn wreath of red poppies, bound together such that every bloom nestled perfectly beside its neighbor. There had been more and more of these orders lately, but this one in particular had been destined for a newly widowed family down near the town square. Their mother had been deployed to the Whispering Woods as part of the first assault, the order had explained. Since then, Adora had heard rumors that the kingdom intended to honor this woman's sacrifice in particular, being as she was among the first to die in combat.

But such honors mattered little to those kids, surely. To them, they had lost a parent, a guide, a comfort on the difficult days of their childhood - like this one. She was gone, that nameless GI, and there was nothing a funeral or a statue or a wreath of ruby flowers could do to change that.

Pausing to consider how long it would take to deliver the forgotten parcel up town, Adora quickly sprung back into action and grabbed her worn canvas messenger bag from its hook on the door. In just a few minutes flat, the sporting young woman had her boots tied tight and her pack slung slack over her shoulder, the packaged wreath secured snuggly within. Without further delay, she was on her way toward the city's center, where she could still hear the day's festivities droning on and on and on.

It didn't matter, though, the pomp and circumstance and all. She was a woman on a mission, and for now, that was enough.

Or so she wanted to believe.

***

The 6:30 tram uptown had just pulled out when she reached the station, but Adora wasn't disheartened. She knew the quickest way on foot anyway, and missing the train would only put her a few minutes off her pace. All she'd need to do was cut through Unity Square, follow the river for a mile or so, and she'd be into the heart of the city in no time flat.

Easier said than done, of course. As she trekked through the still-bustling streets that connected to the square, the familiar trump of a brass band filled Adora's ears, joined quickly by the shouts of a jubilant crowd. After rounding another corner, the commotion's source became all too apparent - yet another parade, packed five abreast with greenhorns sparkling in their fresh-pressed uniforms. There was no way to wade through that sea, Adora calculated on the fly, so she ducked back into a nearby alley and tried her best to skirt the mobile military circus.

Flanked on both sides by centuries-old edifices, Adora quickly found herself more at ease off the beaten path. As much as she enjoyed the vigor that pulsed through town on days like this, it was also a bitter reminder that she wasn't in the celebrated ranks. It wasn't about the praise, of course - she got plenty of that from her regulars, who swore by her seasonal bouquets and corsages. Rather, it was about being seen with a purpose, about the chance to fulfill her potential and serve as a protector in this time of need. There was something heady about those ambitions that Adora couldn't slack, try as she might - even after watching a hundred military parades like that one glide by.

Lost in thought once more, Adora only had a split second to react when a wall of broadcloth and brass suddenly popped up in her path. Stepping back and looking up slightly, two men dressed in military attire turned and glared down their nose at their unexpected visitor, their bodies at once forming an incidental blockade.

"Hey, watch where you're going, lady! We're standin' here!"

"Oh, sorry," Adora apologized instinctively. Even at a glance, she knew she could take either of these men if she wanted to - trained service members or not. But these days, roughing up a uniformed individual wouldn't be a great look socially. And besides, if she knew anything about how Bright Moon was outfitting its infantry these days, each of these men had a sharpened sidearm apiece that Adora wasn't interested in getting acquainted with.

The second man spoke up, his hand now pressed intentionally such that Adora could not pass. "You should be sorry. But you know what? How about you make it up to us by stopping and chatting for a bit? We're both pretty lonely back here on lookout duty and we could use some company from a cutie like you."

Adora felt something acidic churning at the back of her throat. These men smelled of cheap tobacco and the caustic spirits the army passed off as libation rations. They'd clearly been partaking and that was enough to give them a wide berth.

"That's quite alright," Adora responded, doing her best now to remain monotone and unappealing. "I'm actually making a delivery right now. So, if you'll just let me be on my way..."

"Woah, hey! What's the rush, honey?" the first one chimed back in. "It's a nice evening. Why not enjoy it with two of the army's most handsome new recruits?"

In the face of their insistence, Adora continued to stand her ground. "I'm not interested. Now please, I'm in a bit of a hurry."

The two men rolled their eyes almost in unison and looked at one another.

"What'd I tell you, man," the first soldier jabbed, "all the ladies are scared off by your mustache."

Petting his modest mouser with his pointer finger, the second man looked a bit insulted by his friend's comment. "Hey, not true. I think it's great. All the girls down at the bar told me so. You think so, right?"

Turning back toward Adora, the second man's gaze stipulated only a single, affirmative answer. But now, Adora chose to remain silent, pondering if turning back and waiting out the parade would be worth it. That option was becoming more and more appealing by the second when, just as Adora took a step in that direction, a warm, mindful hand caught her mid-stride, holding her in place and imploring her in silence to remain. The hand quickly slipped up to her shoulder and gave a light squeeze - firm and directive in one measure, yet affable and benevolent in another.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, dear. I had some trouble finding you in that crowd."

At first, Adora's quickening pulse and tense shoulders assumed that she'd been cornered by a third soldier, making this unfortunate run-in that much more dire. But as the voice trickled through her ears and glided gently into her mind, she realized that its keen timbre wasn't menacing, at least not initially. It sounded presumptive, if anything, and perhaps a bit cocky to boot.

But there was something suave in this stranger's voice all the same, something smooth that softened the sharp edges of her gruff intonation - something, Adora quickly discovered, that put her fight-or-flight response at ease and convinced her to call off the attack hounds (at least for now).

Still, though, Adora said nothing to argue with either side. Not that it mattered much because the mustachioed soldier quickly made his umbrage clear.

"Hey, who the hell are you? We were just talking to this chick, helping a little lost mouse find her way. Get lost!"

The stranger didn't move a muscle as the soldier jabbed a slender finger in her direction. Instead, she tilted her head curiously, as if she were ready to toy with her cornered prey.

"Oh, no need to worry about her, I assure you. We have somewhere to be, together . We'll just be on our way."

Together…

Together?

Adora couldn't help but notice the way the stranger intoned that decisive word. It was just as assertive as her sudden appearance, but it didn't waiver for a moment on her lips. It was a lie, Adora knew full well - she didn't recognize this woman on her voice alone - but a convincing lie to the last. Convincing enough, perhaps, to get these two dolts to lay off and let her finish her work.

Before she could meditate on the woman's words any further, though, Adora felt a reassuring hand return to the small of her back, pressing her forward ever so slightly. It reminded her of her dance lessons long ago, when she first learned to waltz at her mother's request. But if this was to be a waltz of sorts, then Adora had been positioned as the second - the led, not the leader. She'd rarely volunteer for such a role on the dance floor, but right now, at this particular stranger's behest...

Perhaps.

The soldiers wouldn't have anything to do with their exit, however. Indeed, with each new insult spat in the women's' direction, their faces grew redder, like a blister in the sun.

"Now, hold on there, buddy! Don't you know who we are?"

With his gloved hand, the clean-shaven man gestured to his service badge, the lunar crest of Bright Moon set in imposing stainless titanium.

"We have authority around here. So what we say, goes. Now, I'll say it again before things have to get ugly - leave the girl with us and get lost!"

The mystery woman taped her fluffy chin in mock contemplation.

"Actually...I don't think I will."

"But if I recall correctly," she continued, saccharin sarcasm stirring its way into her verbal tea, " you two have someplace to be right now."

Then, with a flick of her wrist that would have made an orchestral conductor jealous, a spark of palpable magic flickered into the musty alleyway air. Not more than a second later, the two men ceased their verbal assault and felt their spines straighten out. Their legs followed after and their shoulders squared in turn, putting them fully at attention and ready for inspection by some unseen officer.

Panicked and trying his best to break the ethereal grip on his neck, the mustached man cast his eyes frantically and tried to land a few more desperate barbs.

"He...hey! What are you doing to us? This isn't funny! We'll have you jailed for assaulting a commissioned officer!"

"Yeah! We know General Juliet! She'll have you both thrown in prison for this!"

But the cloaked woman didn't acknowledge their threats, now that she had the arcane upper-hand.

"Where was it you two were going again? Off to patrol a muddy ditch, perhaps? Or maybe you were on your way to apologize to every woman you accosted today? Either way, you better get going. Wouldn't want you to be late."

Another snap and the two men marched off, first with a precision about-face and then in lock step until their objections and sexist threats faded away into the dusky distance.

The coast now clear, Adora exhaled and released the tension in her shoulders. Leaning forward just a step, she finally turned to view her champion in the flesh, whoever she was. All things considered, she didn't know what to expect of the woman in terms of her appearance; but one thing was certain, based on her words and her actions alone - she was magic down to her core, the likes of which were so very rare in this era of conflict and conscription.

Even so, the real deal managed to blow Adora's expectations to rose-colored smithereens.

Her eyes stood out first - blue, pale yellow, and radiant with the lingering effects of her last spell. Her jawline took center stage soon after - cunning and determined without losing even a mote of its good humor or mirth. There was even something to be prized in her wild dark mane, contained as it was in a short ponytail that Adora could only assume had been enchanted to make every hair on her thoughtful head look perfect.

Adora breath hitched as she took the sorceress in, patterned purple cloak and all. It was all she could do to keep from gasping aloud.

"Oh, ummm..." she finally managed to stammer, her mouth running dry. "Thank you for dealing with...them."

The stranger grinned in reply, a touch of arrogance in her toothy smirk. "Don't worry about it. And don't hold it against those two - it's the uniform that makes them like that."

Without missing a beat, she then stepped forward and again pulled Adora close to her with a firm hand, compelling them forward in tandem. Meanwhile, from the shadows a few paces back, a number of jet black arachnids emerged in silence and bore their crystalline fangs.

"Now, we need to keep moving."

And off they went, their pace metered at first and growing more brisk as they rounded a corner and turned away from the main square. Sensing that they were now headed in the wrong way, Adora shot a glance at her impromptu escort and tried to object.

"Wait, what's going on? Where are you taking me?"

The sorceress kept her sights on the path ahead and disregarded both questions. 

"I'm sorry, but it looks like you're involved now."

"Involved? Involved?!" The apology did little to calm Adora's concerns as they started into a light jog. "Involved in what? Is someone following us?"

Whipping her head back, Adora didn't have to wait long for an answer. Much to her horror, a pitch dark wave of scrabbling legs and blood-red eyes pursued them at a rapid clip. Individual spiders leapt from the crowd every now and then, their bodies smooth and glass-like, as if a craftsman had blown them to life with a silica heart. Even more spiders continued to pour in as well - from the walls and the ground and the rooftops above - putting Adora's lifelong disdain for such venomous creatures into sudden, harrowing relief.

"Don't look back," the witch implored, her gaze now focused on finding an expedient means of egress. "We can give them the slip if you follow my lead."

Exasperation finally set in for Adora. "Don't look back?! It's a little late for that! And who are you? Where are you taking me?"

As she pressed for more answers, yet another astonishing sight materialized suddenly in Adora's periphery. Right at waist level, running alongside her with a bounding, yet silent gait, a panther-sized cat appeared out of thin air and shook a spray of sparkles from its wavy mane. Even at a rushed glance, Adora could tell that the beast was quite unlike the mottled torties and elegant archangel blues her mother had kept around for mousing; indeed, its burgundy coat radiated with an other-worldly glow, and its flowing sapphire mane pulsed with all the fixity and elegance of the youngest, brightest stars.

The trio turned another corner with the spindly horde hot on their tail (quite literally, for two of them). Adora couldn't help but ask, now that her day had taken yet another turn for the astonishing.

"And who is this? Or what is this!?"

The sorceress simply grinned, knowing full well that now wasn't the time for introductions.

"Don't worry about it. Just trust me!"

Like Adora had much of a choice.

"Okay, but you better know a way..."

Another turn revealed a dead end, their path now fully enclosed on all sides.

"...out."

Adora felt her heart drop as the walls started to close in around them. At the back of her mind, Netossa's invitation echoed. If she'd just accepted it - if she'd just taken a break for once in her life - she wouldn't have found herself on this ersatz adventure. Sure, she'd been momentarily saved by the most enchanting girl she'd seen in Bright Moon in what felt like eons - a skilled witch, to boot. But was that really worth it? Really?

"Now look what you've done! We're cornered!"

The stranger's feline ears perked up as she cut loose another wild smile. She had a plan, Adora could tell, and whether that was a reason to be relieved or alarmed, she'd have to wait and learn the hard way.

"Not if I have anything to say about it!"

All at once, Adora felt the stagnant air around them come alive. The alleyway drew in a mighty breath, causing the leaves and debris wedged tight into the gutters to fly free and circle around them in a frantic flurry. After only a few seconds, a visible vortex had formed, forcing Adora to pull her messenger bag in tight and hold on for dear life. The vortex continued to grow and intensify second by second before letting out an audible roar - just as the stranger reached over and hugged Adora snuggly against her warm, thrumming body.

"Hold on tight!"

The roar ceased at her command and in a rush of skyward seconds, they were flying. The worn granite facades passed by in a flash, as did the chipped green gables and cinnabar shingles that garbed nearly every house in the old market district. Drying lines full of clothes and a few perched crows were no match for their assent as they rose higher and higher on the magic gale, until they hovered high above the rooftops, high above the crowd, and high above their arachnoid pursuers - high enough that in the near distance, its patina-ed hands turning on centuries-old gears, the old city clocktower welcomed them to the skies, its dial resolute in the face of new soaring sojourners.

For Adora, it took a few moments for the change of perspective to set in. Down below were the rooftops of her hometown and the cheering, patriotic crowd that had forced her into this strange detour. There was the bustling market square in the near distance and the seafoam bay beyond, its ships fully radiant in the setting sun's tangerine glow.

And there she was, perched high above it all like an avian sentinel. It was a wondrous sight that she could have drank in for hours on end if not for the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach, reminding her that even on the most unexpected journeys - what goes up must surely come down.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no..."

The sensation of falling crashed into Adora's veins all at once, causing her body to tense and her breathing to sputter. But just as she felt sure she'd slip away and tumble back to the unforgiving ground, a firm hand reasserted itself by sliding down onto her waist and offering a consolatory squeeze.

"Hey, it's okay. Just relax, straighten your legs, and start walking."

Adora's body did so reflexively and to her surprise, the air beneath her boots felt stable and calm. Gingerly, she leaned her weight forward and found that the invisible surface did not give way. Another step forward and she was no longer hovering in place. Instead, with the witch's hands still clutched at her side for balance, she was gliding effortlessly on air, each stride more confident than the last until she managed to find her sky legs.

"There you go, now you're getting it," the stranger whispered after sensing the lingering tension in her ward's body. She leaned in closer such that her chin rested in the crook of Adora's neck. "Don't worry, I've got you."

With those words, Adora finally felt the rush of the last several minutes melt away. She was flying now and in the arms of some stranger who could be planning to rip her heart out, for all she knew. But even so, the pomp and circumstance of the festivities below felt a million miles away and her fears, if only for this moment, felt even further. For now, this leisurely stroll through the sky felt like heaven and Adora was ready to see where this fateful breeze would lead her next.

Lost as she was in the moment, Adora hardly noticed her guide loosen her grip and interlace their fingers effortlessly. They were dancing now or so it felt, and the connection in their palms only served to quicken Adora's eager pulse. Just as they jointly push off a high rooftop ledge to gain a little extra altitude, the blonde turned her wistful head again. Through the skies and through this woman's mismatched eyes she was willing to stroll the whole day through, or at least for as long as this fleeting forever would last.

A few dreamy steps further, the stranger looked over and caught Adora staring - not that she minded, of course. She wouldn't be the first, after all. With an enticing grin, she returned the favor.

"Look at you. You're a natural."

"Heh...I guess so."

"And here I thought you were some magic-less delivery girl."

"You're pretty magical yourself."

As soon as the words left her lips, Adora could feel the flirty warmth quickly clustering in her cheeks. Turning away bashfully, she couldn't make out the sorceress' response - a solid poker face, as it turned out. From there, their aerial jaunt continued in silence, save for the soft whispers of wind against their ears. If anyone below spotted them, the pair would have hardly known, as focused as they were on savoring this moment.

But as all good lives and all good dances must, the moment soon tapered off and came to its natural end. Slowly but surely, the pair began to descend toward the far end of the market square, where revelers were just beginning to take in the evening's merriments. Though Adora had never mentioned her intended destination, the stranger seemingly read her mind and guided them toward the upper balcony of an unassuming two-story condo. There in the window, Adora could see from a distance, hung a somber banner that had also become all too familiar - a white field trimmed in red with a single, stony gold star at its center.

With the railing now just a few meters away, Adora braced her legs and prepared for impact. But to her surprise once again, their momentum slowed itself gently, allowing her to reach out and settle upon the wood bar with all the grace of a mourning dove. The stranger followed just a step behind, landing silently beside Adora and keeping their hands thoughtfully intertwined. Indeed, the sorceress only released their intimate weave after helping Adora down from the rail and offering a final, parting squeeze.

After dusting herself off and readjusting her legs to terra firma, Adora turned to face the railing once more. There, her escort remained perched on high, her charming smile now replaced with a neutral, instructive expression. Her feline companion had reappeared as well, letting out a soft purr as it brushed up against its owners legs.

"I'll have to draw them off for a bit, so you should stay inside until sundown. Can you do that?"

Still stunned from the wholeness of their journey, Adora simply nodded. The thought of asking for this woman's name didn't even cross her mind.

The sorceress' grin returned, almost as if it had never departed in the first place. With a slight bow, she leaned back and took a step into thin air.

"That's my girl."

And just like that, she was gone.

Gasping, Adora’s cloudless eyes grew wide. Reflexively, she rushed up to the barrier to see if something had gone awry, to see if her graceful escort had somehow fallen by accident. But there below, there wasn't a pointed ear or dignified purple cloak to be seen - just the revelrous crowd of celebrants, tankards of frothy ale in hand, none the wiser to the enchantress who had just teleported inches above their heads.

Sighing and hoping for the best, Adora leaned back against the rail and remembered the task at hand. This funereal wreath wasn't going to deliver itself - not without some wicked magic, of course. 

Maybe she could help me next time...

With that wishful thought in mind, Adora finally pushed off the rail and crossed the balcony before pausing and rapping twice on the door. As she listened to the sounds of footsteps approaching from the other side, her thoughts flickered back to mere minutes before. That woman's magic touch still lingered on her hips and at her fingertips, leaving Adora to wonder who had just whisked her away and ponder if, by some great twist of fate, she'd ever be given the mercy of seeing her again.

Chapter Text

"Ugh. What time is it?"

Chapter Text

"Finally. Home sweet home."

With a sigh, Adora withdrew her key and pushed her weary way into the vacant flower shop, her legs almost giving out from exhaustion right there and then. It was rare to end the day this tired, so worn from burning the candle at both ends. But then again, most days weren't nearly so eclectic, so packed with adrenaline and laughter and longing. She'd been chased by a torrent of arachnids, walked on air with a ballerina's grace, enjoyed some sweet company, and come back to terra firma without a single scratch to tell the tale.

Oh, she'd met someone new, too. Was she the most feared and fearsome witch in all of Etheria, the blight of a thousand maidens, as Glimmer had suggested? Perhaps, perhaps. Titles and infamy aside, Adora wasn't struck with dread when the cat-eared woman first took her by the hand and by the hip. There was a welcome electricity there instead, an arcane endearment that was at once nimble and mercurial, even as it whispered and invited...

Stay, stay, stay.

After snuffing the porch light, Adora's turned from her tactile memory and set her mental sights on her warm and welcoming bed, now just a short flight of stairs away. There was just one problem that nagged her, though, that all-too-familiar feeling of forgetting something important until the last possible second. Just this once, she was willing to let the feeling pass in favor of some well-earned sleep, that is, if the shop's idle cash register hadn't caught her eye first.

"The ledger!"

In a flash, Adora caught an anxious second wind and sprinted behind the counter, searching frantically for the shop's master registry. Within its slim, leather-bound covers stood a written record of every end-of-day till total, every outstanding invoice to local horticulturalists, and perhaps most importantly - every employee's hours over the past several weeks. Without those figures, Adora knew she wouldn't be able to pay out wages come morning, leaving her hard-working but all-too-forgiving employees out to dry once again.

"Shit, shit, shit...where is it? I know I left it back here yesterday! It's gotta be here somewhere..."

An assortment of dusty price tags and shriveled blackthorn stems started to fly as Adora ducked into a nearby storage closet and started clearing the middle shelves. In mere minutes, her search turned up a moth-eaten apron ("Ugh, better throw that out"), her favorite pair of pruning gloves ("Would everyone stop trying to hide these?"), and what appeared to be a water-logged copy of Mer-Mysteries #7: The Girl with the Dolphin Tattoo ("Mermista cannot keep reading when she's working the register.")

But even after sending a sealed jar of aqueous gardening marbles clattering to the ground below, the ledger in question never materialized. Instead, as Adora's search continued, a cold and spiritless foot stepped decisively out of the murky night and into the store's humble interior. Without a word, the figure passed ghost-like onto the shop floor proper, pausing for a beat to inspect a display of rhododendrons that withered instantly in her barren presence. If not for the *click* of steely boots against the lacquered shop floor, Adora might never have noticed her after-hours visitor, save for the portentous aura they emanated the moment they crossed the threshold.

Pausing her hunt to shoo the late-comer off, Adora turned her head toward the open closet door and silently cursed not locking the front door sooner.

"I'm sorry, but we're closed for the night."

Turning back to the task at hand, Adora kept one ear trained on the room outside, expecting to hear a rushed apology and movement back toward the door. But such a reply didn't come - only the continued, pensive click of military boots on the hardwood floor. That alone was enough to make Adora's pulse quicken, assuming at once that the rumored gang of local pickpockets had finally decided to target her store. But she was willing to give this unknown customer another chance, on the good advice of an uncanny gut feeling alone.

Straightening up, Adora raised her voice just a touch louder.

"We'll be open tomorrow at 9. You can come back then and we'd be happy to help you."

Silence replied, tightening the knot in Adora's chest down a couple more clicks. In the shop's eerie silence, she could hear the visitor breathing, low and rhythmic, like a hunter lying in wait. They might have been hard of hearing for all she knew, like so many of the elderly regulars that had helped the shop grow from brittle roots. But then again, there was something menacing in their presence, something that implored Adora to nab a nearby pruning knife before peeking her head out once more.

"We're closed for the night. You'll need to leave before I'm forced to call..."

Her courage wavering momentarily, Adora felt her words trail off and her grip on her weapon loosen. Standing in her presence, just beside a display of garland and multiflora rose, was an imposing figure she'd never seen around the neighborhood. Their magisterial appearance didn't mark them as a common thief by any means, but Adora hesitated all the same. She could just tell from the way they held themself - they weren't here for a late-night bouquet.

She stood tall and middle-aged, a flowing slate blue robe cascading from her squared shoulders and onto the floor like a stream to a waterfall. The dim light of the room caught her garments just so, making them appear translucent at the edges and highlighting the pale of her leaden skin that much more. Despite her drawn hood, Adora could even make out the stranger's abrupt jaw and piercing, mechanical eyes, which appeared for a split second to lack that all-encompassing flame most spiritual devotees would call a "soul."

In all, she looked formidable, an unknown quantity mixed with a threat. But was she the sort of threat a short, reverse-blade dagger could dissuade? Even Adora knew better than to start a fight she couldn't hope to win.

Turning back to a vase full of day-old carnations, the stranger gestured gently and tried to extinguish the palpable tension.

"These flowers - they do not look well."

Frowning, Adora discreetly set aside her implement and stepped out from behind the counter. For what it was worth, she wasn't paid enough to deal with randos off the street insulting her team's hard work, after hours no less. She'd know; she was the one cutting the half-sized checks.

"They're old stock now, that's why. All of the magic rationing has made it hard to keep our new blooms in good condition for long. We'll have more in that same color on Monday, if you'd like to place an order."

That saccharin customer service voice made Adora want to gag, but it got a reaction out of the stranger, enough to make her step away from the carnations and over in Adora's direction. Her boots continued to click with each measured step, succinctly in time with her monotone voice.

"Perhaps I will have to do that. They remind me of a similar arrangement a friend gave me long ago. Those flowers were so...aesthetically pleasing. They always livened up the room, just as she did."

With a slight, wistful grin, the stranger continued. "You remind me of her, in many ways. Though there was truly no one else like Mara."

In an instant, the knot reappeared and redoubled deep in Adora's gut. Plenty of folks around town knew her mother, not only from her years as the neighborhood florist but also for her years of service during the last war. To have someone new stop in and reminisce about her - especially in those first several weeks after the funeral - was not all that out of the ordinary. What was unusual was this woman's practiced, nostalgic tone, her fondness that made her sound like an old friend or, at the very least, a comrade from her mother's days in uniform.

For the life of her, though, Adora couldn't put a name to this face - this uncanny, unmistakable face. She'd never been a guest at their dinner table or a companion on their occasional travels abroad. Despite that unexplained absence, she sounded fully sure of herself, to the point that Adora couldn't write her off as some enigmatic vagrant. This person, whoever she was - she wasn't just anyone, not to her mother.

"Wait," Adora finally managed to ask after a pregnant pause. "You knew my mom?"

"I more than 'knew' her, Adora, just as I have known you for many years. But it makes sense that you would not recall me. You were quite small when we last spoke and you hardly left the hem of your mother's apron at that time. It is good to see that you have grown strong in the intervening years. You look confident, too, just as she was at your age. Perhaps that is why she was so capable from the minute she joined the Royal Academy."

The Academy...the Academy...

That's it!

Those vacant eyes, that stoic expression - she'd seen them both before, juxtaposed in black and white among so many of her mother's service photos.  There was simply no ignoring the similarity. This woman, she'd been there on day one, on graduation day, and every day in between. They'd gone on missions together, spared together in their free time, and even served in the same unit when the mandatory draft came into effect.

Those dog-eared photos had said it all and yet, her mother had never spoken this person's name aloud. If not for the inscription scrawled in the margins of a tattered unit portrait, this woman might have forever remained nameless, lost to time like so many fellow soldiers on their first days at war. Adora recognized her late-night visitor now, and to say that she had a few questions of her own - that would have been an understatement.

"Wait. I know you. You're...you're Light Hope."

Nodding sagely, the seasoned servicewoman raised a welcome hand in the shopkeeper's direction.

"Ah, then you do remember me. But from your raised inflection, I take it you do not remember me well."

Adora shook her head slightly, curiosity now creeping up at the corners.

"I gather, too, that your mother did not speak of me much. It is just as well. I doubt her words would have been generous to my character."

"No, she didn't mention you at all. You were in all of her service photos, but she never talked about you."

The slightest frown curved on Light Hope's face, but she quickly dispelled it by turning back toward the shop's wide front window and the stocky night beyond.

"She had her reasons and I respect her for that," she explained. "Our parting was only natural, though I still feel that she chose a path that did not fulfill her full potential."

Adora couldn't help but chuckle at the backhanded slight. Few people lived their life to the fullest as her mother had, all day and every day. It would take some serious arrogance to not appreciate the way she gave of herself willingly, even when there was nothing in it for her.

"I don't know what you mean about my mom," Adora countered. "But if you're talking about her choice to run this shop, I guess I sorta understand. She loved doing it, but I don't know. It always felt like she wanted something more out of it..."

Light Hope didn't miss a beat, as if she were reading lines for a scripted play.

"I sense that you do as well, that this is not the lot you would have cast for yourself."

The knot in Adora's core loosened slightly and shifted up toward her lungs. She couldn't say why, but she felt compelled now to tell this virtual stranger the truth, the full truth, a gnawing truth she hadn't even confessed to Glimmer. The words didn't come easy, though, and she stumbled along until her brain caught up with her impulsive tongue.

Raising one hand to her chin, Light Hope gazed around, as if to take in the spirits of her opposite's earnest confessions.

"Perhaps this was never meant to be your path in life in the first place."

Adora couldn't hide a scrutinizing glare. "What do you mean? Mom left the shop to me for a reason."

"It is as I have said," the sorceress reiterated. "It is likely that your mother thought well of leaving you this shop, in hopes that it might bring you stability and a sense of purpose in her absence. But that does not mean that this shop is your sole impetus in life. Perhaps you are meant to play a larger role, one beyond what your mother could have prescribed for you."

The assertion cut deep and reminded Adora of her present failings, as the daughter who couldn't keep her mother's dream alive. Light Hope made it sound so inevitable, too, as if she was always meant to jump ship while the store slipped through her own trembling fingers, like so many frail petals after another shipment of withered wisteria.

"Me...I...that can't be. I'm just me, I'm just Adora. I don't have a 'greater purpose' - just this ."

She tried to push back, as if her mother's ghost were in the room and listening. But it felt like a lie, now that a desirable alternative had been put on the allegorical table. If there really were some means to step away, to give up the shop without being weighed down 'til drowning with guilt, Adora would have gladly accepted. The alternative, as Glimmer had elucidated, felt too daunting to stomach.

Light Hope's expression did not waver upon seeing the young woman's sudden misgivings. Instead, she carried on with her tract, eyes fixed soberly on Adora alone.

"I sense a desire in you, a desire to do more in this time of crisis. Is that so?"

Adora nodded. It was as if Light Hope had read her mind.

"To do that, you would need some exceptional power, something that will help you be of use when the enemy approaches."

Adora nodded again, but didn't take the bait.

"I already am useful," she objected. "I've trained more than half the people they're sending out there right now. But that doesn't matter because I have to stay here. If something happened to me, I don't know what would happen to the shop."

Light Hope tilted her head ever-so-slightly.

"What if I could assure you of your safety? What if I could offer you a power unavailable to the - shall we say - lesser combatants?"

Adora thought she'd misheard, but Light Hope's poker face remained as definite as ever.

"That can't be possible, not without magic. And unless you're serving Queen Angella, there's no way you have that much magic right now...right?"

Light Hope took the interrogation in stride and let it roll off her placid form, like water off a duck's back.

"I am not at liberty to reveal my benefactors. But suffice to say, my gifts are mine alone to give. You are worthy of them, if you are willing to accept. Will you, Adora?"

Yes, yes, yes!   she wanted to shout back until she didn't have an eager breath left in her lungs. In the back of her mind, Adora knew full well that this was not what her mother had wanted for her, given her consistent pacifism over the years. But in those same whispers, Adora's ambitions reminded her that this was her life to live, her day to grasp now that the sun was rising. Opportunity had come dressed in cobalt blue, and Adora felt deep down that if she didn't seize it, it might never pay her a late evening visit ever again.

Azure flames started flickering zealously behind Adora's eyes. She was ready. She had always been ready. Now, she just had to speak her mind and take what was meant for her.

"I'll do it."

The affirmation hung valiantly in the air for a beat or two. Then, with just the hint of an appreciative grin, Light Hope stepped forward and offered her hand in goodwill.

"It is well. I was not certain if you would accept this power without further persuasion. I was wrong to doubt you, it seems. From this moment on, I pray that you become an unparalleled Hero."

Light Hope released Adora's hand and stepped back, her back now pressed against the pottery display counter. She folded her hands together, a faint glow emanating from the space between them.

"Now, please - close your eyes. The investment process will only take a moment."

Her resolve wavering momentarily as the room grew unseasonably cold, Adora did as she was asked

"Umm...what're you going to do to me?"

"I must warn you," Light Hope explained, the golden light in her palms growing more phosphorescent, "this may hurt initially. But I assure you, the pain will pass quickly. It is merely a shadow of the agony a true Hero must face on their path toward a righteous, lasting peace."

Adora didn't love the sound of that, cracking an eye open in time to see Light Hope assuming a casting stance. Even if this hurt, it would be worth it, a million times over.

"I can take it," she firmly replied. "I'm ready."

Nodding, Light Hope drew a final, concurring breath. To Adora's eye, she began growing fuzzy around the edges, as if she were beginning to turn invisible from the base of her robes up. The sorceress didn't acknowledge the change, though. Instead, she cast her arms wide and prepared herself for this moment, long-delayed and oh so mission-critical.

"Good, then we can begin. But first, I have one final request."

The glassy glow from Light Hope's hands grew brighter, her form fully translucent as she rose slightly off the floor. For just a split second, she cut a Machiavellian grin, knowing gladly in her mind that the ball was finally in motion.

"Give my regards to Catra."

At the sound of her name, Adora's eyes flashed fully open, just in time to see the witch across the room digitize and surge forward. Before she could even draw another breath, Adora felt her body pierced by a million invisible needles, each brutally passing through her without drawing a single drop of blood. Darkness, too, began to sting her eyes, the shelves of flowers around her disappearing from view just as the rush knocked her hurricane-like off her feet.

Stumbling a few paces before slamming hard into the counter, Adora tried to shield her eyes from the arcane onslaught. But try as she might, she couldn't stop the assault or even waylay it temporarily. It persisted, in defiance of her pain, and already, regret for her hubris began welling up in Adora's tears. Such remorse was the last thing on her mind as she finally gave in, falling to her knees and allowing the storm to overtake her, carrying her with a roar over the threshold into a caustic, feverish sleep.

***

Balance must be restored.

Peace must be secured.

Etheria must seek a Hero .

Adora...Adora...

Your world needs you.

Your world needs She-Ra.

With a jolt, Adora felt her body crash out of its catatonic state and back into reality. Light Hope's voice echoed in her ears as she tried to blink herself awake, the morning's light doing its best to irritate her bloodshot eyes. The sorceress' voice -  it sounded so close, so immediate, so beseeching just then...

But after managing to open her eyes fully and lean her aching body up against a nearby shelf, Adora looked around and found her shop entirely vacant. An early bird or two passed outside the store's front window, but Light Hope's icy cerulean robe was not among them. Indeed, her mother's former friend was gone without a trace - that is, except for the stitches of discomfort in Adora's bones and the warm, hectic glow dancing and celebrating in her core.

At first, Adora assumed it was just hunger, having eaten only sweets for supper the night before. There was something more to it, though, not the gnawing discomfort of hunger pangs but something more noble, more urbane. This warmth felt valiant and refined, as if it had something to say and was willing Adora to say it. Intently, Adora tried to listen in, to see if Light Hope had left her with any clues as to what came next.

No voice spoke up, however, Light Hope's or otherwise. In its place, something firm and invisible materialized in Adora's hand. Though she could not make out its true form, the apparition felt weighty in her palm, balanced as it was against the rest of its unseen length. A certain electricity pulsed through the hilt as well, encouraging Adora in silence to close her hand and grasp it fully, taking in its power and claiming it for herself.

Without second-guessing the feeling, Adora drew her fingers in and wrapped them around the invisible rod, allowing herself to appreciate its smooth, metallic surface. As if in recognition of her physical contact, the invisible scepter began to grow warmer and warmer, forcing Adora to nearly toss it aside like a busy frying pan.

But before she had the chance, a divine, golden light began to ensnare her fingers and engulf her right hand. The hilt's heat grew even more torrid, but tossing the object away was no longer on Adora's mind. An imperceivable force had taken hold of her entire arm and based on the way its brilliant light was racing towards her shoulder, it wouldn't stop until it had swallowed her whole.

Though her lungs still ached, Adora called fruitlessly for help. The light, in reply, absorbed her pleas and muted her tongue, forcing her to focus solely on the indescribable fire now radiating from her hand and from her heart. Wincing, the flames coursed through her body and licked at her soul, filling every fiber of her being with a teaming energy far greater than any runner's high. This vigor, this vitality - it made her feel worthy, even as it threatened to burn her alive. It wanted to be brandished, it wanted to be unleashed - it wanted to be made manifest in the palm of her hand, without another moment's hesitation.

And so she rose, first to one knee and then fully upright, her the pain in her hand vanishing as she managed to stand on her own two feet. In its place was a sword of legendary stature, set with a turquoise gemstone and tipped with a broad, alabaster blade. Its intricate etchings shimmered and danced in its own luminous wake, surely enough to dazzle anyone in eyeshot. Taken together, the blade demanded a kind of active reverence, one Adora's newfound awe was all-too-willing to give.

Then there was Adora.

As the whirlwind of her transformation dissipated, she stood resolute at the heart of the store, listening to her heart pound and looking down on a space she'd known all her life through new eyes. Those eyes - still as blue and unfettered as her mother's favorite morning glories - now glowed faintly, each iris awash with a fresh magical infusion. Though she could not yet see it, her workman's attire had also been replaced by an immaculate white tunic and skirt, each trimmed in a flawless gold fabric fit for royalty. Even down to her matching boots and bike shorts, Adora looked every part the hero she was promised - courageous, resplendent, and entirely undeniable.

Above all else, though, Adora felt stronger, toe to tip. Turning over her hands, she couldn't believe what she was seeing. What Light Hope had said - she wasn't exaggerating her own capabilities. The way her muscles flexed, the way her lungs grinned with each fresh breath - she felt like a superhero, the kind who really could make a difference in an intractable battle. It didn't matter to Adora's mind how Light Hope had done it. All that mattered now was how she could put these powers to use, and when.

As she continued to ogle her newly svelte form in the front window's reflective surface, Adora noticed that her transformation hadn't been without a cost. All around her, shards of broken glass and flower petals littered the floor, as well as a full lawn's-worth of displaced soil and a non-trivial amount of water. At a glance, it looked like a tornado had ripped an isolated path through their storefront. If anyone else saw the shop in its current state, they'd have assumed she'd finally snapped under the pressure of small business ownership.

Speaking of which...

A knock suddenly sounded from the front door, loud enough to snap Adora out of her stunned surveillance. Tensing up all at once, her legs tried off their own volition to make an escape. They hadn't accounted for the newly muddy floor, however, and soon, Adora's newly Herculean body had hit the deck, causing a new flare of light to fill the room. Before she could register what had happened, her panicked gaze turned back to the door, where a familiar pair of robin's egg boots had just stepped into frame.

"...just get through today and then you can call in sick tomorrow. Adora won't even know the difference...oh, Adora!"

Adora's mind raced, searching for the words for damage control.

"Netossa! It's...um...it's not what you think. This is...um...a new outfit Glimmer wanted me to try out and I sorta tripped and I....umm...this sword, it's not mine. I'm just holding it for a friend and it's sorta heavy and..."

Though her ability to lie remained infamously shoddy, Netossa had bigger fish to fry.

"Adora, what are you talking about? You're still wearing the same thing as yesterday. And also..."

"What the literal fuck happened to the shop?!"

With a quick double-take, Adora realized that her stainless new regalia had disappeared, replaced by her usual, well-worn garments. The sword, too, had vanished into thin air, along with the ethereal feeling of its presence in her hand. All that was left of her brush with the mythic was the glowing warmth in her core and one absolutely demolished shop floor.

"Oh, umm...this?" Adora stammered, noting now the extent of the damage. "It was...we were...robbed. We were robbed!"

"We were WHAT?!" Netossa sounded appropriately flabbergasted, given the veritable killing field of merchandise before her.

"Robbed, yeah, we were robbed." Adora doubled down and stumbled to her feet, wiping off stray pottery shards as she stood. "It was last night, when I was trying to find the ledger. Some lady in a robe walked in and used some spell on me that knocked me out. I just woke up, I don't know what she took..."

Realizing that she was actually telling more of the truth than not, Adora cut herself off and tried to gauge her employee's reaction. Based upon Netossa's face journey alone, the ruse had hit its mark.

"Adora, that's awful! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, yeah. I think it's just a couple of bruises, that's all."

Pacing over to the counter and tossing her bag by the register, Netossa turned and gestured dramatically.

"Well, that's good at least. But what're we supposed to do about... this?"

Good question .

"Ummm how about this," Adora suggested. "Can you go flag down a guardsman? We should, um, probably report this so they can track down whoever did it."

Netossa nodded, fully in tune with Adora's knee-jerk plan.

"Yeah, yeah, good idea. You stay here and catch your breath and I'll go do that."

Without another word, Netossa sprinted back toward the door, hoping a pile of decimated begonia's as she went. With a hand on the doorframe, she stopped and leaned back, one foot already on the front stoop.

"You sure you're good to hang here, though? You're looking a bit pale, girl."

Probably so , Adora thought. Y ou'd look the same if you'd just transformed into an 8-foot superwoman, apropos of nothing.

"Yeah, I'll be okay. I just need a few minutes to...um...process everything."

Shaking her head and rolling her eyes, Netossa's sneering tone was just the medicine Adora needed to dull her panic and crack a fresh smile.

"Whatever you say. But just listen to yourself for a moment. We just got robbed and you're standing there like 'I'm good, I'm fine.' It's okay if you're not okay, Adora. This is a lot to deal with at once. So, I'll ask again - are you good?"

For a fleeting moment, Adora considered coming clean - about her waltz through the sky, about the "robber's" true identity, about all the crazy events that had colored her Wednesday night. Netossa had always been one to give it to her straight and on this particular occasion, she could use that brand of sisterly wisdom. Her gut check might even help her see if she was rushing into this whole hero business too quickly, just as she had on a handful of business-related ventures in the past couple months alone.

But then again, she'd probably just worry more, Adora concluded in silence. Whatever these powers were, she hardly understood them herself. Thrusting their existence upon another person this early on in the game - that'd give Netossa and everyone else one more reason to fret. Best to keep this one close to the chest for now, at least until she had a chance to figure out what these powers were capable of.

"Trust me - I'm good," she finally nodded, her first convincing fib of the morning. "It's just...a lot happened yesterday. Maybe we can talk about it later."

"You got it. For now, hang tight. I'll be back in a flash to get this whole thing sorted out."

Once Netossa was on her way,  Adora paced back over to the front window and watched her friend race up the street toward the nearest police precinct. In all likelihood, she'd only have a few minutes respite until a uniformed officer came knocking and scared off the morning's customers. Waiting even that long felt tedious, though, so Adora quickly crossed the store again and headed for the backroom, in search of a broom and dustpan.

As she passed through the back hallway, passed the tiny kitchen and stairway that led up to her snug living quarters, the newly-minted champion looked down at her soil-stained hands. With her right palm upturned, something echoed through her fingers, the tingly warmth of a roaring fire after a day spent out in the snow. It felt gentler this time around, less urgent and determined in its sinewy proliferation. Even so, Adora welcomed its return, sensing now that it would remain with her, waiting for the moment she needed to call on Light Hope's powers again.

Like right now, maybe.

Stopping just inside the stockroom perimeter, Adora paused and turned back up the hall. Still no one in sight, at least for a few minutes more. There was no harm in trying, she thought, just to be sure it was still in there.

Closing her electrified palm, the sword's cold hilt made itself known once more. Just a blink later, without all the light and fanfare, it had appeared, just as majestic and fearsome as before. Now, though, it felt familiar in Adora's grasp, as if it had been there all along.

Grinning from ear to ear, Adora went about her task and returned to the crime scene, magic sword in one hand and a corn broom in the other. Every so often, until she heard Netossa's footsteps pounding up the front steps once again, the young woman would sneak a glance at her newly acquired armament, appreciating each time the way her features glistened in the hilt's incomparable teal gem.

Chapter Text

Mile after magnificent mile, the old steel rail clicked out a measured meter as it carried its latest ferry toward the disputed plains. Now that Port Evergarden was only a speck on the leeward horizon, the car's occupants had begun to mellow out, the fervor of their celebrated departure giving way to the genial conversations of average travelers. With a full day's worth of travel ahead of them, it felt as if everyone was eager to settle in and shoot the breeze - everyone, that is, except for an otherwise anonymous-looking private, her service beret pulled down over her conspicuous poof and bright blue eyes in a calculated bid at deflecting everyone else's scrutinizing gaze.

Chapter Text

Soldiers, sailors, and sorcerers of the Bright Moon Expeditionary Force,

You are about to embark upon the great crusade for which you have trained these many months. The eyes of your kingdom are upon you. The hopes of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you. Together, you shall bring about the destruction of the Horde war machine, the elimination of villainous tyranny over Etheria's oppressed peoples, and security for ourselves in a just and peaceful world.

Be assured, your task will not be any easy one. Your enemy is ruthless, cunning, and battle-hardened. They shall fight savagely to their last breath. But take heart - you are fighting for the greatest military force ever assembled in our nation's history. We have learned much about the Horde since the last war and we shall use every piece of intelligence gathered to bring them swiftly to their knees. The tide has already turned! The free peoples of the world are already marching together, with you and your courage leading the way.

I have full confidence in your fortitude, your devotion to duty, and your skill in battle. We shall accept nothing short of a full, unconditional victory.

Good luck, and may the blessings of divine provenance be upon you as you begin this great and noble undertaking (1)

- General Juliet Pershing, Supreme Commander of the Bright Moon Armed Forces

Adora looked up from the xeroxed page in her hand, assuming she'd missed the memo on this rather charismatic address. Most of her new companions offered only their snores for clarity, their nightlong stupor persisting even after the dawn knocked on their carriage windows. After her nocturnal chat with Cam, Adora's own sleep had been fitful at best, her dreams now laced with images from the grizzled veteran's grim reality. The fire, the brimstone, the stench of death heavy in the air—Adora knew what she'd signed up for, but now it had a recognizable face; without flinching, it had an undeniable voice.

Likewise, the lieutenant's voice was difficult to ignore as it crowed out from the far end of the carriage. He'd returned after distributing bulletins to the rest of the train and looked ready now to give this section a proper wake-up call. Even before he spoke, Adora slumped down a bit in her chair, adjusting her beret such that her recognizable blue eyes were out of sight.

"Alright, Easy Company, shake the sand out of your eyes and listen up. We're going to be arriving at Thaymor in a matter of minutes. Before we get there, we're going to be passing through some contested territory on the outskirts of town, in a part of the forest where a few enemy units are holding out. We should be able to make it through just fine. But if there are any delays, don't blame it on the conductor. She's made enough of these runs to know what she's doing."

A few more heads popped up around the carriage, most groggy and uninterested in anything other than sleep and a few sips of water. The nameless lieutenant continued, gesturing about with his spare leaflets.

"In any case, when we arrive, we'll be subject to new standing orders just radioed to us from Thaymor command. Friendly patrols observed enemy activity in the nearby valley last night, but were unable to ascertain the scale before moving out of range. Further reconnaissance has been ordered, but all units are to remain on alert until further notice in case of an enemy counter-offensive."

Adora furrowed her brow slightly at the suggestion. Word on the street was that Thaymor had been secured months ago and that Bright Moon's forces had pushed back the Horde for miles surrounding its ravaged walls. Maybe circumstances had changed, though. Maybe the Thaymor campaign hadn’t been the resounding success the Crown had suggested.

"In light of that,” the lieutenant continued, “I want everyone on their feet and ready to move the minute this train rolls to a stop. Patrol leaders, make sure everyone in your unit is up by the time I come back through. If you haven't already, I recommend getting a little food in you, too. Chances are, you won't be getting lunch this afternoon. Am I clear, Easy Company?"

The crowd's response was less than stellar, hinging on outright pathetic. A few choice recruits sounded off, but the vast majority of the cabin remained languidly quiet. Adora held her tongue as well, worried that her voice alone would draw unwanted attention.

"You've got to be kidding me. Am I clear, Easy Company?"

This time, the lieutenant's bark reached enough stuffy ears to rally something half admissible.

"Yes, sir!" they called back in unison as their commanding officer turned to leave the cabin.

"Glad to hear it. Now, get moving! We're not paying you to sleep."

"Yeah, you're paying us to take a bullet for you."

Adora's attention snapped back to the seat across from her, where Cam was now upright and looking surprisingly spritely. They'd slept through most of the briefing, but that didn't seem to bother them. If anything, they looked relaxed, as if their prior service had turned this call to arms into an old routine.

Opening her mouth to reply, Adora felt her words trickle away as the shaded views outside suddenly vanished. Out from the Whispering Woods' canopy and into an open field their train screamed, leaving behind much of the unblemished grandeur that had colored the night through. Something about the transition was off, though, and it took Adora a moment to notice its full effect, riddled as it was with the scars of a skirmish now receding.

Rather than the verdant fields of Thaymor she'd visited as a young girl, the scene rushing by was bleak beyond comparison. The rolling hills that once surrounded the town had been whittled down by persistent cannon fire, each dale stripped bare until only ruddy, arsenic-laced soil remained. The forest, too, had been amputated where it met the distant road, leaving behind only charred stumps that served as makeshift grave markers for the countless infantry that had doubtless fallen in their midst.

For what felt like hours, Adora's eyes remained fixed on the vivid scene outside, devoid in its entirety of life and agrarian sinew.  In the muddy trenches and behind the husks of insensate oaks, not a single helmeted head peaked out to see if the coast had cleared. It was almost as if the space had been abandoned, now that the liberating forces had run their course. Such a mercy had come at a cost clearly and Adora shuddered to imagine how much of it was paid in nameless blood.

A heavy radio case crashed into the aisle a few rows down, snapping Adora's attention back to the train's interior, where her fellow soldiers had started to rise in earnest and gather up their belongings. On the far end, beyond a pair of sly-looking engineers, one sergeant began the undesirable process of herding his cats, a futile effort judging by his persistent, unacknowledged squawking. Even the several troopers around her had begun shuffling one way or another, leaving Adora to wonder where she'd fit into this freshly active scene.

Peering around further, a sinking feeling settled into Adora's gut. Now that the frying pan was being put to the fire, her outlier status would surely come to light, regardless of how well the uniform fit. Without some quick thinking or another sprig of unwarranted luck, she knew she'd end up burned before this sleepy transport reached Thaymor.

Then, as her eyes flicked warily around the cabin, a voice cut in, just as it had the morning before.

"Hey, blondie!"

Adora turned in her seat to face the voice behind her. There, a decorated pack slung over their shoulder, Cam stuck out a pair of fingers.

"Adora, I mean. You're with me."

Wary of blowing her cover further, Adora tried to object. But before she could get a word out, Cam raised a hand and stopped her short.

"Naw, I won't hear it. You need a squad and I just so happen to be a squad leader. We could use your dumb optimism to balance my jaded ass, anyway. So, get up and get in line."

"Oh, um...that's okay," Adora replied, shifting nervously in her seat and trying her best to not meet Cam's piercing eyes.  "I have a squad already, actually. Or I will have one, once we get to Thaymor and I get my assignment and..."

Cam rolled their eyes and dropped to one knee, setting aside their pack and snapping up their boot laces in a single, cogent motion. Their hands now busy, they looked Adora square in the eyes, like an older sibling readying to level a bargain.

"Listen, Adora," they began, lowering their voice slightly. "I don't know how you got on this train. I'm sure as hell it wasn't with a ticket from the Academy or else you'd be as smug as half these goons. As far as I'm concerned, it doesn't really matter how you got here. You're willing enough to put on that uniform without even getting paid for it and that takes some real guts. Probably stupid, reckless guts that will get you or me or half these jokers blown to bits. But I think a little audacity is what my squad needs. So get over here before I change my mind and call over the lieutenant."

Adora yipped and leaped back in her seat. All things considered, she didn't think she was making her lost sheep status that obvious. Then again, Cam had been around the block in more ways than one; their decorated uniform lapels made that clear. Maybe sticking close to their side would be for the better, at least until she could find her baring and make a go of it on her own.

Leaning in close to ensure that no unwarranted ears listened in, Adora nodded.

"Okay. I'll join."

Rising and hoisting up their pack, Cam grinned broadly, as if they'd won a county fair blue ribbon and a unit commendation all at once.

"That's what I like to hear. Now get up here so we can be the first ones off. I'm starting to get a bit claustrophobic in here."

Nodding again and rising quickly to retrieve her own pack, Adora was upright and ready to move in under a minute, just as the train gave a girthy shudder. With a heavy lurch, the entire carriage groaned to a stop, evidence enough that they had finally reached their destination. Cam didn't waste a minute, leaning past Adora and shouting up the aisle.

"Nixon, Winters, Rayne - get over here. Got someone for you to meet."

A few bodies ambled out from the crowd, their place in Cam's squad fully apparent at first glance.

The first, a broad-shouldered Scorpioni man with a shock of jet black hair cut high and tight, eclipsed the others as he elbowed his way to Cam's row. The other two - a somber, chestnut-haired human and a gray-haired, gold-spectacled elf - came into view soon after, once the first stepped aside and offered a cheery fist-bump to his superior.

"Hey, I don't remember voting to add a fifth to this quartet. Not really sure this four-ring circus needs another act."

His tone—gruff but welcoming as a nip of bourbon in winter—-echoed as he turned to inspect Adora further. Cam simply grinned, their eyebrows pinching in like a teacher who had already had enough of their ornery class.

"Well too bad, Nix. This isn't a democracy. As far as you're concerned, I'm your monarch out here."

"What's that make Lieutenant Kobel then, huh?"

The human jumped in, their accent heavy with the foggy harbors and painful beaches of Bright Moon's northeast coast. Folks from that region rarely traveled down to the heartland, Adora knew, but the war effort had put a temporary end to such regional loyalties.

"Some sort of god for all I care. Doesn't matter, though."

Cam reached over and clawed Adora to the forefront. The gang's inquisitive eyes all met Adora's at once as she stumbled forward, leaving her feeling like a prized pig on its ill-fated trot to the chophouse.

"After some thoughtful consideration and a few shared drinks last night, I've decided that Adora's joining our squad. She has, shall we say, found herself without a unit and, at risk that she'll charge into battle by herself, I've decided to graciously take her under our loving wing. Isn't that right, blondie?"

Adora felt Cam's hand squeeze tight near the base of her neck, the kind of hold you might give an over-excited labrador retriever who's resisting a leash.

"Yeah, that's the plan,” Adora agreed nervously with another sharp nod. “I promise I'll pull my weight and do whatever you ask. I just want to contribute, if that's okay."

The third—Rayne, Adora guessed—spoke up, her voice laid-back and silken compared to her patrol mates. Despite her fatigues, her demeanor was remarkably un-soldierlike, between her carefully polished frames and the way she inspected her new companion with an erudite finger to her chin.

"We'll hold you to that. And don't worry so much. I think we're a pretty easy-going bunch, as far as squads go. We work hard, we play hard—you know, all that. And of course, Cam keeps us in line when we misbehave."

"Which is basically all the time because they're a bunch of asses!"

The grouse in Cam's tone told Adora that her new leader was only half-joking. The trio took the jab in stride.

"Awwww, but we're your asses, Cammie!"

"I told you not to call me that, Winters!" Cam roared while leveling a nasty grin in the gangly man's direction. "And you know what? As a reward for your very funny joke, you can take first watch tonight."

The trio laughed off the reprimand, much to Adora's surprise. Her mom had spoken so sharply only on rare occasions and it usually made her feel anything but chipper.

"Ooooo I'm so scared. I'm shaking in my boots!"

"You better be. Now, turn around and get a move on. The cab's emptying out."

As commanded, the newly-minted patrol turned their attention leeward, where the last of the train's occupants had just filed out, laden packs in tow. After a bit of playful shoving, Winters hoisted up his olive satchel and led the way, with Nixon and the elven girl following close behind. Nodding in Adora's direction, Cam waved their new inductee on, a glint of approval in their eye.

"Guests first."

Adora nodded back before taking a firm step toward the portal, an exhilarating mix of admiration and anticipation dancing in her veins. This was, she suddenly realized, the moment she'd longed dreamed about. As she stepped off the train and onto contested ground, she'd be a bonafide soldier like her mother before her, destined to protect and eager to serve. It was a promise made, a promise kept, and best of all, no one could take her new mantle from her, not with such quick friends watching her six.

Thaymor Station didn't disappoint on that end, either, at least as far as the pageantry of war was concerned

To civilian eyes, the hectic mix of troops, trains, and supply trucks puttering every which way would have been evidence of disarray, a sure sign that the regimented soldier's life was just a cheap recruitment gimmick. But to Adora's rose-tinted eyes, the flurry of action spreading out across the dilapidated depot's breadth was organized chaos at its finest, the hustle-and-bustle that kept both a healthy city and a beating military force alive. Even the shattered windows above and the petrol-tinged smog rolling from platform to platform weren't enough to sour the greenhorn's outlook, not with this many new sights and sounds and feelings to lock away in her eager, thrumming heart.

Off across the station, bathed in mid-morning light passing through a mangled section of pitched steel-and-glass roof, a steam locomotive let out a howl and began its slow crawl back toward no-man's land. Closer by, Cam called out for a second time, their tone now more insistent than before.

"Adora, quit your sightseeing and get over here! We've got equipment to move."

Snapping out of her absent-minded trance with a jolt, Adora turned back toward the train and spotted her new sergeant waving her over toward a sizable collection of canvas-covered crates. A few bore the kingdom's lunar crest in dirty black spray paint, along with indecipherable serial codes that indicated their contents. After a bit of dodging through the ceaseless flow of uniformed bodies, she managed to reach the rest of her patrol, fresh embarrassment nipping at her over-stimulated ears.

"Sorry, sorry! This is all just...a lot. What's our, um, mission?"

Jabbing a thumb toward the crates, Cam repeated their earlier order for the late-comer's benefit.

"Nice of you to join us, blondie. Now, like I was saying, Kobel wants these crates dropped off at the quartermaster's building across the street. He says you can't miss it—big brick building, a bank or something. After that, go drop your packs outside the long building next door. That's where we'll be setting up shop. Sound good?"

This time, Adora was ready for it. She squared for a salute, pride swelling in her heart with every zealous beat.

"Yes, zir!"

Chapter Text

Nightfall arrived all too soon on the third day, and Adora could hardly believe it had clicked by so quickly. Resting on her bunk and staring up at the bannered rafters above, her bones still pulsed with the urge to keep moving, to keep building, to keep taking part in this noble endeavor. Of course, her tasks had mostly been simple grunt work so far; hauling crates, clearing rubble, running messages from one end of town to the other while the comms system remained out of order. But to Adora, it all felt like it was part of something greater, the myriad little nothings that would help keep Thaymor free and the Horde on its back foot.

Still, a whisper deep in the new soldier’s sinew wondered when she might see action— real action—the kind chronicled in her favorite adolescent adventure novels. From what she'd overheard at breakfast, all of the recent arrivals were expected to settle in and serve as an occupation force, at least until the reported holdouts in the surrounding woods could be "neutralized". Beggars couldn't be choosers, Adora knew, but she still felt a pang of disappointment when she found out that she'd be cloistered far from the front lines. That familiar warmth still radiated invisibly in her palm and now, more than ever, she wanted to close her fingers around the sword and show the world its true might, and what she was fully capable of.

For now, though, Greyskull squadron's newest member was satisfied to play her part and keep her head low. That was easy enough to do at this hour, especially after how hard Lt. Kobel had run their platoon during evening calisthenics. Besides a couple of other night owls perched beneath the chamber’s only lit lamp, Adora was alone in the darkness, satisfied to restlessly count sheep and number the banquet hall's unending collection of ornate, decorative shields.

In time, after a barn owl outside offered its most suitable lullaby, Adora drifted off to sleep, her dreams quickly filling her lingering penchant for activity.

The scene was foggy at first, as the train station had been when they arrived days ago, before several forms stepped forward and kicked away the haze. As they passed, a familiar chuckle caught Adora's ear, followed by a round of hearty laughs from other members of the group. Soon, the group was a few paces ahead and Adora felt her legs shuffle into action automatically, worried now that her squad might leave her behind. That would certainly make for a lonely patrol.

With a quick jog, Adora managed to catch up, close enough now to see her new friends without trouble. At least, she expected to see their jovial faces, all looking in toward Nixon as he cracked another joke at their sergeant's expense. But to Adora's surprise, their eyes remained foggy, not with cataracts but with literal clouds, each like a blindfold hanging free above their noses. It was as if there was still something between them, something transient but palpable, something still keeping them all from seeing exactly eye to eye.

After ambling on for a few gauzy minutes more, another noise trickled through the laughter and caught Adora's ear. Distant at first but growing louder with every step, it reminded Adora of her mother's unmistakable whistle, when she'd stick two fingers to her lips and call out the shop door that it was time to come home for supper.

But as the hiss continued, high above their heads and beyond the decrepit husks of the surrounding buildings, Adora noticed that it didn't waver for a second. Instead, it drew closer and closer, louder and louder at an alarming rate, without anyone else in the squad so much as looking up to comment. Adora alone stopped in her tracks as the screech reached a fever pitch, her gaze cast upward toward the moonless sky above.

It was then, through the low-hanging fog that still tiptoed above the street and hugged tight to the town's ruined steeples, that she spotted the sickening source—long, drab, and perilous, fins deployed and course resolute, its tear-drop body every ounce the reaper's blade as it sliced through the ashen sky and touched down on the flagstone street, its purpose fulfilled the moment it tasted the tannins of warrior blood.

There were no screams, no chance to cower or call out. Adora could only watch in silent, wretched horror as the mortar landed square at her companions' feet and tore the waiting world apart.

There was only fire. Then, ear-splitting silence.

In a sweat, Adora jolted awake, the ballistic shriek still screaming in her ears. Her eyes were frantic, darting about as she searched for her patrol, hoping against hope that they'd avoided the worst of the blast. For a few breathy seconds, the whole petrifying scene threatened to burrow even deeper into Adora's mind and make a home for itself between her eyes. A minute longer, though, and the nightmare began to fade, replaced by the banquet hall's tranquil darkness and the gentle reassurance of heavy-eyed silence.

That was, except for the ringing. Try as she might, Adora couldn't shake it. Every time she tried to cover her ears or shift her focus down to the soft scuttle of mice feet beneath the floorboards, the shrill, incessant scream won out and threatened to keep her awake the rest of the night. It was growing louder, too, loud enough that it should have easily awoken the unit's lighter sleepers. Only Adora seemed to notice as the howling grew closer and closer, pulse by pulse, until it was nearly on top of them, its calamitous payload deafening and all-too-ready to burst.

Again, there was silence. And then, fire.

As the lines of the world around her blurred, Adora felt her shoulders crash into the hardwood floor as something coarse and heavy bounced off her back. The force of the impact threw her clear from her bed, and though she could hardly see an arm’s length in front of her through the powdered stone haze, she could tell what had just transpired. Cam's voice slicing through the chorus of panicked shouts left little room for doubt.

"Mortar fire! Everyone out of bed! Out of the building, this place could come down at any minute!"

As if on cue, a sizable oak beam dropped a few feet from where Adora lay, crushing an old display case filled with fragile glass ornaments. The shock of the close call was enough to spark the young woman to her feet, her heart racing faster in her chest than her adrenaline-soaked muscles could abide. The ringing in her ears continued, even as the shouts of her squad drew closer, counting off on the far side of the downed beam.

"Two!"

"Three!”

"Four!"

A set of heavy boots kicked aside an overturned table, Cam's without a doubt.

"Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! Where is she? She was bunked on the end, right? Next to you, Rayne?"

"She was, zir, but I can’t find her,” the spritely woman called back, her reply interspersed with sandy, smoke-laden coughs. “Her bunk's empty. Maybe she got pulled out with another squad?"

"She better fucking hope so, or else I'll kill her myself."

From above, another of the building's oak girders gave a heavy groan. As Cam had predicted, the whole banquet hall was starting to cave in and before Adora could second guess her instincts, she closed her hand tight around the sword and felt an intoxicating fire course through her veins. When she opened her eyes again, she was faced with the sight of her dumb-struck squad, teeth gritted, a beam as wide around as her 8-foot tall body braced hard against her back.

"Ummm, okay—holy shit! Who are you?" Cam managed to ask after a few stunned seconds. Adora blinked.

"What do you mean? It's me, Ador—!"

The beam's splintered edge cut its jagged teeth into Adora's shoulder blades, drawing blood and choking off the thought. Based on the stunned astonishment in everyone's eyes, they wouldn't believe the incredulous truth anyway. Growing a couple extra feet was one thing, but the immaculate attire, gold headpiece, and lily-white sword together—that might be a bit much to bear, even compared to the weight of the tree-sized support beam. Reintroductions didn't matter now either, and the warrior princess opted instead to focus on the more pressing issue at hand.

"I'm here to help," Adora explained before tossing her burden aside with a labored grunt. "Now, get going before another mortar lands. This place isn't going to last much longer."

Rayne and Nixon didn't have to be told twice. With a quick glance at one another and then to their sergeant, they ducked their heads and headed for whatever remained of the exit. Cam looked ready to argue the usurpation for a moment, but thought better of it and split. Adora followed quickly after, her lungs now burning as the cinders of the centuries-old building filled the once-tranquil room with a kind of noxious, ashen snow.

After vaulting over another pile of rubble and turning away a collapsing shelf headed in the group's direction, Adora finally reached the main entrance and heaved in a lungful of cool, evening air. For a wishful second, the unalloyed wind convinced her that the coast was clear, that they'd escaped the worst of it and could finally catch their breath. But as a beady, fluorescent red dot of pulsing light just beyond her line of sight reminded her, their fight for survival had only just begun. The dogs of war had only just caught their scent.

"Everybody down!"

As the order left Adora's lips, a distant artillery shot leapt from its cozy, cylindrical home and started its hectic run in the squad's direction. Again, something primal kicked in deep within Adora's transformed bones, compelling her into harm's way, knuckles white against the hilt of her sword. Another blink, and the ball of energy vanished, its killer instinct denied by the sudden appearance of peerless steel and a pair of glowing, eternal blue eyes.

By the time Adora lowered her shimmering sword, their latest attacker was clear for all to see. Up the street, now a twisted mass of jagged steel and teaming energy, lay the remains of a Horde tank, its bat-wing insignia illuminated by the angry fire burning in what was once its cockpit. As far as anyone could tell, the heavy hitter was a lone wolf. Not that it particularly mattered, of course; Adora was already on the move again, heedless to what threats lay beyond in the dark, tempestuous city beyond.

By the time the squad stopped again, their collective breath heavy after what felt like miles of running, Adora realized that her surroundings no longer looked familiar. Fight or flight had gotten her out of harm's immediate way, but that instinct hadn't come with an enhanced sense of direction. Adora was ready to admit as much to her squad when the surrounding gunfire died down, giving way to the shouts of a desperate radio operator.

"Bright Moon Charlie, Bright Moon Charlie. This is Thaymor Bravo, repeat Thaymor Bravo. We've been cut off from the south half of town and we're taking on heavy casualties. We're sitting ducks out here without immediate armor or ground reinforcements. How would you like us to proceed, over!"

Signaling in the voice's direction, Adora pushed her way through a bank of fog and out into a small, circular courtyard she'd only visited once while on messenger duty. Platoon HQ looked significantly worse for wear, its former barricades and checkpoints a clear target of the unfolding sneak attack. Its usual inhabitants had all scattered as well, save for the two charred souls out front, one dressed in officer's fatigues and the other bearing a boulder-sized radio on his back.

As the group sputtered to a stop a few paces away, the radio operator lowered his receiver and turned to his superior officer, bad news already hanging off his lips.

"High Command says the Horde is launching a full-on counter siege. We're supposed to fall back to Checkpoint Easy and wait for immediate evacuation, but they can't promise any heavy armor support until morning. I figure if we can round up enough of the stragglers, we could make a push and...who the hell are you?"

All eyes turned back to Adora, shining as she was like a beacon against their grim backdrop. The officer—Lt. Kobel, she could now clearly see—raised an accusatory finger in her directionI , reaching for his holstered sidearm as he barked a ragged order.

"He's right. Identify yourself immediately, Horde scum!"

"I'm, ummm...." Adora faltered. The lieutenant managed to maintain his intimidating edge, even from two feet below her eye level. "It doesn’t matter. This squad’s building was hit and I don't know how many were able to make it out. We could still save them, but..."

"She's with us, Kobel." Cam pushed their way to the front of the pack and matched their commanding officer’s glower with their own. “She's the only reason any of us made it out alive. She's not a Horde soldier."

The lieutenant maintained his grip on his knife hilt, even as he started to register the sheer size of his adversary's broadsword.

"If she's not one of them, then who is she? She doesn't look like one of the Academy mages."

"Agreed," Cam nodded. "But right now, I don't really care who the hell she is—and neither should you. If there's a rendezvous point, then she's your best shot at getting there. She single-handedly destroyed a tank back there."

That caught both Kobel and the radio operator's attention, enough to get the lieutenant to release his side arm and offer a deferential nod.

"Well, when you put it that way," he said, "I think you'll do just fine. Besides, I think I'd want the eight-foot tall lady with a sword on my side, too."

Adora grinned in spite of herself. It was the first commendation she'd ever been given, and a field commendation, no less.

Another mortar fell a few streets over, sending a tremor through the foundation that caused one of the remaining headquarters walls to finally cave in. Cam took it as their queue to exit stage left.

"Alright, enough small talk. Let's get out of here before this whole place goes to hell in a hand basket."

It already had, as far as Adora was concerned. But she wasn't about to argue semantics, especially as Kobel gestured up the road and yelled, "you, sword lady. You're the biggest one here. You’re on point."

Now with their commanding officer and some nameless radio operator in tow, the motley crew carried on, steel-toed boots hammering the cobblestone pavement as they moved from alley to alley, hoping aloud that they’d put the worst of it behind them. For the first few blocks, it felt like their wish had been answered. But as they skirted around a former outdoor market, reality uncharitably imposed itself and the chatter of enemy fire roared back into Adora’s ears.

“Take cover!” she shouted, but it was already too late. The first few bullets cut through the air and tore apart a nearby fruit crate, catching everyone's attention and forcing them to dive for cover as the gunfire intensified. Adora, however, didn't flinch, not after what she'd managed to accomplish earlier with a fully armored tank in her way. Instead, she set her jaw and squared her confident stance, ready to turn back the Horde's bullets and protect her friends.

Peering ahead through the haze of gun smoke, Adora immediately regretted her hubris. From the spread of their muzzle flashes, she could tell were more than just a handful of Horde goons in their way. They’d also fortified themselves behind a long, low wall, making it hard to pick them off without exposing their own position. And worst of all, they’d all taken that precise moment to reload and, based on their opportunistic shouts, retrain their sights on the 8-foot tall target dressed head-to-toe in conspicuous white.

“Oh, fu–”

The gunfire began again and Adora threw up her arms reflexively. What good that was meant to do her, her instincts weren't sure. But to her surprise, it worked. The bullets never reached her. Perhaps even more surprising, she could no longer feel the hum of the sword in her hand. Instead, as the gunfire died down and she opened her eyes, she discovered a magnificent, wing-shaped shield buckled to her arm in the sword’s place. In the darkness, it shone like a golden sun, turning back every last Horde bullet like they were made of rubber.

"Woah. That worked,” she breathed in amazement. “That actually worked!"

Adora only had a moment to marvel at her accidental accomplishment before the enemy gunfire picked up again, forcing her to throw up her new defense and look back at the rest of her squad. They all desperately stared back in her direction, the lieutenant included, hoping the sudden appearance of another glistening armament meant that she had a plan.

And as it just so happened, Adora did have a plan, a little something she'd read about in all those old adventure novels.

"Everyone, behind me," she confidently called over her shoulder between volleys. "I think I can get us close enough to take them out."

"You'd better be right!" Cam called back before scurrying up and ducking into Adora's shadow. The rest followed close behind and before long, they were inching their way forward, a hundred bullets or more pinging off Adora's seemingly impenetrable shield every minute. In short order, they managed to close in on the opposing squad's location and neutralize them, Adora hanging back from the grim action to ensure no other stragglers had followed them through the fray.

Once the last helmeted soldier was dispatched, the scene was again still, save from the intermittent patter of distant gunfire. Something still felt off to Adora's heightened senses, though, and she began retracing their path through the courtyard, anxious that an unseen adversary was still lying in wait. While she wondered back into the fog, the box radio sprang to life again with pop.

"...all troops, repeat, calling all troops on this frequency. High Command has ordered the immediate evacuation of all remaining ground forces in Thaymor. Horde infantry and heavy armor have breached the center of town and will reach Checkpoint Easy by daybreak."

Cam and Nixon shared a troubled glance while Lt. Kobel tried his hardest to remain stoic. The broadcast continued.

"Aerial support is inbound, repeat, aerial support is inbound and will provide covering fire for those remaining in the city. If you can hear this, you’re running out of time. They've already killed Commander Watts and...oh no, oh gods! They're in the building, they're—!"

The broadcast suddenly died in a fit of static, followed by grim silence. Even without the whole warning, the ultimatum was clear: get moving or face certain death at the hands of ravenous Horde forces. Still, no one in the squad dared move until the broadcast had fully digested. Rayne managed the feat first, and even that came as a new knot of dread twisted in her gut.

"So, I guess we better get a move on then?"

"Yeah, you're right," Cam nodded, their own boots suddenly feeling like they were filled with concrete. They then looked up and frowned. "Where'd the sword chick go?"

Off in the haze, just inside the doorway of a ruined brick dwelling, Adora surveyed the wreckage for what she thought was a flash of a crimson Bright Moon jacket. If there was a fellow survivor buried there, she had to try to pull them out. Her guilty conscience for rushing out of their former bunkhouse without checking for survivors wouldn't have it any other way.

Kneeling down, sword at her side, Adora lifted a fragmented column and checked for signs of life.

"Hello? Are you okay? My name's Adora, I'm with Bright Moon's army. Do you need help?"

The crumbled form didn't stir, but Adora wasn't willing to give up yet. She took a step closer, placed a hand on the pale figure's shoulder, and shook it firmly.

"Are you okay? Can you walk? If you can, we have to move now . The Horde is coming and, and..."

Adora felt her voice crack ever so slightly as the austere truth pricked its way into her gut. All the while, as they'd pressed through the streets, she’d managed to avoid witnessing this single inevitability of war, pale and pulseless. It was all around them no doubt, on the south end of town and in the ruins of that tank she'd bisected without a second thought for its crew. But now, the kiss of Styx stared back at her, even as the lifeless man's face remained buried entirely in a heap of brickish ash. The sight churned Adora's stomach and nearly brought up what remained of her last meal, distracting her long enough to allow a pair of nimble, battle-hardened boots to step through the ruined doorway and raise a crackling stun baton over her oblivious head.

Again in the nick of time, Adora's transformed instincts snapped to life, like a robot to its immutable programming. As 1,000 volts met the steel of her sword, though, she felt something human in her heart finally give way. Her eyes blazed with the light of a young star and her body thrummed with celestial fire as she let out a roar. Now, her heart cried, she would end this, even if it meant discovering what lay beyond the veil for herself.

Thrusting out her sword, Adora pressed back against the unknown assailant, pushing them clear through the air and out of the empty door frame. Recovering quickly, the attacker steadied themself, reignited their prod, and rushed forward in time to land yet another blow against Adora's glowing blade. Seeing that additional volts were no use, they reached for a second baton on their belt and readied themself to take down this tank of a woman by any means necessary.

Soon, the sounds of hand-to-hand combat echoed across the courtyard, catching Cam's attention and forcing the rest of the squad to give up their inert delay. After an urgent sprint, they arrived at the source of the commotion just in time to witness Adora knock the helmeted Horde soldier on his back. At his side lay the scraps of his former weapons, each sliced in half after numerous, desperate attempts to reach their target's exposed skin.

As Adora leveled her sword at her vulnerable opponent’s chest, the inevitable end looked clear to every onlooker. But as the flames of her rage reached their zenith, an image of her opponent’s lifeless form flashed into Adora’s mind, an image of his dog tags being turned over to his weeping parents a million miles away. The vision sent another nauseated shock through Adora's guts, paralyzing her just long enough to attract her lieutenant's ire.

"What the hell are you doing?" Kobel barked, stamping his foot like an impetuous child. "Finish him so we can leave!"

Even without the order, Adora wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. Deep down, something primal in her being wanted to snuff out this nameless life for the role it had played, no matter how small, in her homeland's suffering. The hatred teamed through her veins and demanded revenge, a blood price, an equal exchange. She had prepared all her life for this moment and now, it was time to pay the reaper his due. Her finest hour had finally arrived.

And yet, the sword refused. Inert in her hand, it grew heavy and unwilling, its magnetic pull pushing it as far from the prone soldier's form as possible. Try as she might, Adora couldn't drive the sword toward her enemy's defenseless body, giving the fear-stricken youth just enough time to gather his wits and scamper off into the fog.

Swallowing hard, Adora finally lowered her sword to her side and looked up to see four sets of uncertain eyes staring back at her. Her squad mates were unsure of what to make of what they'd just witnessed. Their commanding officer had no such qualms.

"What the absolute fuck was that?" he spat, trudging over and jabbing a pointed finger into Adora's solidly-built chest. "You let that welp escape because you're one of them! I knew it! I knew it all along. Sergeant Esposito, place this traitor under arrest immediately!"

Cam didn't move a muscle but to roll their eyes.

"Yeah, sounds good, Lieutenant,” they scoffed. “Let me just grab one of the unbreakable zip-ties I carry around so I can rein in this 8-foot tall force of nature."

Adora would have blushed if her nerves weren't so ragged. 

"Are you disobeying a direct order, Sergeant Esposito?” the lieutenant continued to bark. “You spineless—I cannot believe this. I'll have you court-martialed as soon as we get out of this."

Cam cut back in, now fully ignoring the fuming man's protests.

" If we make it out of this. And as far as I can tell, standing around and dispensing field justice isn't going to make that happen. So, how about we cut the chit-chat and haul ass before the bombs start falling. Sound good to you?"

They were staring down Kobel now and the lieutenant was forced to look away under duress. Despite his pride, he knew when he was beat. And besides, if anyone was a force of nature here, it was the grizzled veteran who had already fought this war once before.

The lieutenant refused to admit as much, though, and simply huffed as he started back toward the north end of town. Cam looked over at their squad mates and then up at Adora with a look of satisfaction on their scared cheeks.

"Thought so."

Their decision to keep moving came not a moment too soon as off in the distance, on the south end of town, the sound of airborne munitions started to whirl through the air and shake the ground with a clatter. The Bright Moon air force had arrived, and from the looks of it, they didn't care who or what their incendiary payloads landed on.

A mile or so up the road, the squad's mad dash ground to a halt as a Bright Moon superfortress roared overhead. Since leaving the courtyard, they'd been fortunate to avoid any further impediments, armed or otherwise. That lucky streak ran out right there and then as the behemoth aircraft opened its hulking belly and released a gift fit only for the gods of death.

Sensing the friendly explosives hot on their tail, Adora waved everyone under an arched gateway at the terminus of a long, narrow street before throwing up her shield and praying it could bear the brunt of these blows as well.

Please work. Please work. Please work.

It took bracing her feet hard against the pavement, digging in to the point that the centuries'-old cobblestones crumbled beneath her platformed heels. But as the plane's whirl faded into the distance and the arsenic-laced haze started to fade, Adora was amazed to discover that she'd pulled it off again. Her shield had again saved her friends from the worst this bloodbath had to offer, stealing for them yet more time and maybe, just maybe, some hope for survival.

That was, if nothing else decided to sneak up on them.

At first, Adora thought she was just hearing things, a touch of shell shock after taking the brunt of that ballistic impact. Quickly, though, the sounds of mortar cracking became unmistakable, as did the chips of grayish brick starting to rain down from above. Adora hardly had time to appraise how the bombs had shook this broad arched gateway loose before full bricks started to fall free, heralding a full collapse they had little hope of escaping.

I'm dead. They're dead. I was supposed to protect them and I failed.

Even so, her body refused to despair.

Adora breathed in once more, a weighted, strained breath. Something immense was cutting into her palms, causing small rivulets of blood to trickle through her fingers and down her arms. That same something was no longer falling, however, and at the realization, Adora looked up with the same sense of awe as all of her petrified squad mates.

"Holy shit..."

Nixon spoke for the rest of the squad as they all beheld a goddess in their midst, holding aloft multiple tons of brick and sandy mortar on her own.  They might have stood there longer, too, watching Adora's undeniable feat of strength with all the reverence it deserved if not for the same warrior's jaw-clenched command, shouted over her shoulder as the structure began giving way again.

"Get going! I don't know how long I can hold this!"

Cam was quick to follow the order, but paused once they saw everyone else clamor out from the archway's shadow.

"But you'll be stuck," they shouted back, realizing now that their protector's positioning made it impossible for her to drop the mass and jump clear in the same motion. "We can't keep going without you."

"You're gonna have to," Adora grunted, her shoulders screaming out that even their impeccable limit had been reached. "Just keep going. Don't wait up. I'll be able to make it, I promise."

In that promise, Cam sensed a naivety they'd heard before, just day's early in the hustle and bustle of the Thaymor train station. They grinned and nodded, offering a quick salute as they turned northward once more.

"See you on the other side!"

Once she was certain her squad had carried on, Adora allowed the former archway to drop from her hands and smash on the pock-marked street below.  Only then was she able to catch her breath and inspect her hands, which were torn up but by far less bloodied than she'd expected. In such condition, they'd still be able to serve her well as she found a way around this newly settled road block, ideally before those friendly aircraft dropped by for another unfriendly visit.

For now, the scene was quiet, as quiet as it had been since Adora tried to fall asleep a small eternity ago. Even the bombers off in the distance decided to lay off for a minute or two, offering Adora a much needed chance to steady her nerves and prepare for the final stretch of her escape from hell.

While the leaden silence continued ringing in her ears, Adora looked down at her wounded hands once more. Just beyond her fingertips, a ruby fleck jumped out from the pavement, its sanguine hue unmistakable against the aged cobblestone's slate gray canvas. 

At first glance, it simply lay there, threatening to spread out and paint the whole brick a shade more burgundy. But after blinking a few times, just to be sure she wasn't imagining it, Adora realized that the splotch wasn't dissipating at all; indeed, it had begun jittering and dancing, mouselike, wavering ever so slightly before skittering in her direction. Once it landed on her boot, it proceeded to zip up her leg and trace a few tight circles on her chest before settling in right between her eyes, making the speck's true intention as plain to see as a sniper's trace through the night.

A fresh wave of adrenaline surged into Adora's veins as she dove out of the way, her elbow landing hard on the street's unforgiving surface as a loud repeat echoed through the narrow causeway. Or, at least that's what she expected as she picked herself up and prepared to make a run for a nearby burned-out building. The predator's cry never came, her ears quickly registered. In its stead was the familiar thrum of caterpillar tracks on pavement, causing Adora's pulse to steady slightly as she prepared herself mentally to take down another lowly tank.

"All right, big guy," Adora goaded as she paced back out into the middle of the street, warm steel in her hand begging for another round. "It's just you and me. Let's do this."

Readying her weapon, Adora took a few steps forward and prepared to take the beast head on. Quickly, her confident stride forward slowed as a horse of a different color rolled out of the fog, still as cold and steely as the last but fully augmented with a new set of armaments that gave Adora pause.

There before her sat a tank they hadn't covered in field briefings, mounted as it was with an impressive tesla cannon that pulsed with reddish-black electricity. It also lacked a semi-translucent viewport on its near side– the spot they'd been trained to target in order to throw off the pilot's aim. In its place was a round, lifeless orb that shone a bright bead of red light in her direction, and emitted a robotic voice that sounded fully ready to coldly end a life.

Adora felt a shiver run down her spine as it finally spoke.

"Grade A-1 martial magic source detected. Targeting enemy paladin with extreme prejudice."

At once, the cannon's coils began to glow with ferocious energy and Adora prepared herself to take evasive action. To her horror, though, she discovered that her legs now refused to follow her commands. Worse yet, she was bleeding more than she'd previously noticed from a rosy bullet wound just above her knee. The shock of the new bite was enough to paralyze the previously invincible warrior, dropping Adora to one knee and forcing the sword from her hand.

All the while, the unmanned tank rolled closer, its greasy teeth gnashing at the prey in its midst.

"Target acquired and locked," it droned, pressing its laser sight onto Adora's temple anew. "Preparing to eliminate the target in the count of three, count of two, count of one..."

There was a mighty, blinding flash, as bright as a star giving way to its celestial fate. And then-silence, as Adora drew a final breath and opened her eyes to see the other side.

***

The howls of gunfire melted away. The heat of a million arsenic-soaked fires dissipated in an instant. This place was calm and at peace, cool to the touch and every bit the release Adora's tortured bones desired.

But more than that, there was someone watching from just up ahead, smiling with the warmth of a cinnamon stick in a mug of late-winter cocoa. She didn't say a word, but Adora knew the comfort she radiated in a heartbeat, the way she always bound up her long, mahogany brown hair with a gold ornament at the end. It would have been impossible, even in near-death, to forget the person she always aspired to be.

A mother's gifts, after all, had a way of lasting even beyond the grave

***

A shimmering portal opened into thin air and through it, a massive, shadowy beast leapt and landed its four dirty paws in the line of fire. Through the fog of what felt like her neurons' final parting, Adora vaguely felt a heavy set of teeth latch around her body, dragging her suddenly upward as a venomous spark of black lightning struck the pavement where she once lay.

Another beat and she felt her body suddenly grow weightless, translucent, as if she were walking on air again, her mind replaying her last truly good memory before cutting off the film reel for good.

In that blissful stupor, Adora hardly noticed her extra human strength wither away, returning her to her mortal form as her courier dropped her unceremoniously to the some dusty floor a million miles from Thaymor. The impact was enough to knock her out the rest of the way, but not before a steady, wizardly voice called out to a lithe figure at Adora's side, just as the voice turned to head back out into the fray.

"Take care of her until I come back," she implored the hooded figure crouched beside Adora's swimming head. From the light of a nearby fire, Adora registered the glint of a red neckerchief tied around the nearby figure's neck. "Use what's left of the draught in my room to keep her stable. I'll be back as soon as I can."

The nearby figure nodded and rose on their padded feet to see Adora’s savior off. Without another word, the figure at the door transformed again, her naturally feline shape erupting into a mass of inky black jaguar hide and hooked claws. The door in front of her flung open by magic and she leapt through once more, leaving Adora to drift back into her saltpeter fog as the last of her consciousness finally gave way to darkness.