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Chapter Text

The next couple of days were a blur. The whispers of soothing trees, the gentle touch of fur against fur, the earthy scent of the jungle, all blended into a hazy dream. C'yra, possessed no memories of the threat she’d fled. Her world was now the whispering leaves, the chirping insects, and the hard ground beneath her. C’yra spent the whole time in the nest due to needing rest from what she had endured and her physical recovery from the injuries she sustained. Unbeknownst to her, the fall also left her with a lingering head injury.

C'yra began to exhibit erratic behaviour. She would wander off alone, lost in thought, or lash out in anger at her feline siblings. Sometimes she would lose interest in playing with her siblings and refused to eat. Ra, with her innate maternal instincts, had an uncanny feeling that something was amiss with her adopted daughter, C'yra. It was as if a mother's intuition was telling her that C'yra needed extra love and care.

Despite their differences, Ra and the lynx cubs remained fiercely loyal to C'yra. They guarded her from danger, provided her with food, and comforted her when she was distressed. C'yra's injuries slowly healed, but the scars of her past remained, both physical and mental. Her speech, once vibrant, became uncertain, and her memories of her life before the jungle faded.

In many months later:

Ra observed an extraordinary transformation in C'yra. Stripped of her memories and the need for speech, C'yra discovered a primal connection to her surroundings. Her instincts, once dormant, were now awakened. She moved with the grace of a wild cat, navigating the dense undergrowth with ease. Her senses sharpened, becoming attuned to the whispers of the jungle, the rustle of leaves, the scent of prey. 

C’yra also became used to She learned to navigate the dense undergrowth, to identify edible fruits and plants, and she also discovered a hidden talent for mimicking the calls of jungle animals, which proved useful in communicating with her lynx family.

The Lynx siblings, who had initially treated C'yra with gentle curiosity, were now her companions, her fierce protectors. She learned to hunt alongside the lynx cubs, to swim in the cool river waters, and to climb the towering trees. Her bond with her family grew unbreakable, as the female lynx became her new mother.

She was no longer the little magicat who had been found injured and lost, but a creature of the wild, reborn.

Chapter Text

The morning sun filtered through the dense canopy, painting dappled patterns on the jungle floor. Birdsong filled the air, a symphony of chirps and whistles. A young, lone dark grey lynx, sleek and muscular, lapped at a shallow puddle, his focus solely on the cool water. He was a young hunter, a predator, but at this moment, he was simply thirsty. However, he was not alone. 

High in the trees, a thing moved with a silent, almost spectral grace. It crouches a branch, the sound of a tiny whisper against the cacophony of the jungle. Its eyes, twin points of different colours, burned with a predatory intensity, fixed on the lynx below.

This was no ordinary predator. It was C’yra, a creature of the wild, with elongated limbs and a sinuous, fluid movement. With a whisper of wind, she leapt from the branch, disappearing into the foliage. The ground beneath her seemed to sigh as her outstretched palms pressed into the soil, each nail digging deep, an anchor in the silent dance of pursuit.

C’yra moved with a primal grace, a hunter honed by instinct. She remained hidden in the undergrowth, observing the lynx with unwavering focus. Her patience was a weapon, her stillness a trap. Finally, the moment arrived. With a burst of speed, she sprang from her hiding place, a blur of brown and tan.

The lynx, startled, raised his head, his sharp ears swivelling in alarm. But instead of fear, his eyes flickered with recognition. He answered C’yra’s pounce with a playful swipe of his paw, a playful growl rumbling in his throat.

Their encounter was not a battle for survival, but a joyous greeting, a dance of familial affection. This moment is bittersweet as there used to be the three of them, until the other lynx passed away due to natural illness a year ago.  Kael sprang back with feline agility, matching C'yra's playful attack. Their movements were a flurry of fur and claws, a testament to their shared heritage and the bond that transcended words.

'You got me, now it's my turn!' Kael exclaimed with a playful growl.

C'yra's laughter, a series of low guttural growls, echoed through the jungle. 'Not so fast!' she retorted, her body tensing as she prepared to evade his counterattack.

Their playful chase continued, weaving through the undergrowth, their laughter and the rustle of leaves filling the air. They both ended up running off into the bushes toward home

The air crackled with the energy of a hundred swings, the clang of steel on steel echoing through the vast training hall of the Fright Zone. Adora, a wisp of a girl barely eight years old, moved with the grace of a seasoned warrior, her long wooden baton a blur as she deftly parried and struck. Lonnie, Kyle, Rogelio, and the other junior cadets were mere blurs, their movements a whirlwind of youthful enthusiasm.

Adora felt the familiar surge of adrenaline as she landed a clean strike on the training dummy, its head snapping back with a satisfying thud. Her heart pounded in her chest, a drumbeat of pride and excitement.

“That’s a good hit, but it’s not like mine,” Lonnie bragged, arm crossed over her chest.

Rogelio, a green-scaled well lean lizard boy with a perpetually grumpy expression, let out a guttural growl of disagreement.

“No you’re wrong Rogelio, Adora would win for sure,” Kyle piped up, his eyes wide with admiration.

Shadow Weaver, her form draped in the black of the Horde, appeared in the room. She moved with a silent grace that belied her imposing stature, her red mask a disturbingly blank expression. She came to stand beside Adora, her presence casting a shadow over the young girl.

“Excellent work, Adora,” she said, her voice a low, melodic rumble. “Your skills are blossoming, a credit to your training.”

Adora beamed, her youthful face glowing with pride. “Thank you, Shadow Weaver!”

The older woman’s smile, if one could call it that, was fleeting. “You have the potential to be something truly remarkable, Adora. But remember,” she added, her gaze lingering on the other cadets, “attachments will only hinder you. Focus on your duty, on the Horde, and you will rise to greatness.”

Adora, her eyes narrowed slightly, nodded silently. The shadow of doubt crossed her face, the fleeting doubt she had learned to suppress. She then went back to her default mindset, the one that had been drilled into her from a young age.

“I know, Shadow Weaver,” she said, her voice firm despite the slight tremor. “And I will do my best. I will beat the Princess. For the Horde.”

Shadow Weaver seemed to approve, a ghost of a smile returning to her lips. “Good. Now, back to your training.”

She turned to the rest of the cadets, her voice sharp and authoritative. “Get back to training, the rest of you!”

The cadets, their faces a mix of fear and excitement, scrambled to obey. Adora, however, remained rooted to the spot, her eyes fixed on the training dummy. As the sound of clashing metal filled the hall once more, she couldn't help but wonder what is beyond the Fright Zone.

The air crackled with the scent of sweat and anticipation. In the heart of New Halfmoon, a cavernous arena bathed in the soft, amethyst glow of the Runestone, young Nala practised her swordplay. The weight of the miniature blade, a replica of her mother's, felt heavy in her tiny paws.

Queen Leona, her silver fur shimmering under the Runestone's light, watched with a stoicism that masked her underlying worry. Three years had passed since the Horde invasion, three years since the fall of Halfmoon and the loss of their firstborn, C'yra. The memory of that day still haunted Leona, a constant ache in her heart.

Nala, however, was a whirlwind of energy. She parried, lunged, her movements fluid and swift, despite her tender age. Her eyes, the same emerald green as her mother's, held a spark of determination that belied her years.

'Again!' Leona commanded, her voice firm but gentle. 'Faster, Nala. Remember your training.'

Nala huffed, pushing herself harder. The shadow of the Horde loomed large in their minds, a constant reminder of the fragility of their new life. They had built New Halfmoon, a city of stone and magic, a testament to their resilience. But their hearts ached for the world above, the sun-drenched meadows and whispering forests of their old home.

Calliopra, Queen Leona's mate, entered the arena, his amber eyes crinkling with a smile. 'Leona, let her rest. She's a young one, still learning.'

Leona sighed, her gaze softening. 'She needs to be ready, Calliopra. The Horde might come again.'

Calliopra approached Nala, gently stroking her head. 'You're doing well, my little tig- kitten. Remember, strength is not just in your claws, but in your heart.'

Nala sensed the unspoken worry that hovered between her mothers. She knew something was amiss, something dark and heavy, but didn't understand the full extent. All she knew was the stories. The stories of the 'bad guys,' of how they had taken everything, their home, their loved ones, and left them to rebuild from the ashes. It was a memory she had inherited, a painful echo in her blood.

Calliopra gently stroked Nala's fur, her eyes filled with a sadness that Nala couldn't decipher. But she knew, instinctively, that it was tied to the Runestone, to the shadows, to the emptiness in their lives.

'Don't worry, mother,' Nala whispered, her voice barely a breath. 'I will be brave. We will protect our kingdom.'

Leona, Calliopra's mate, looked down at her daughter. Her heart ached. The words, so full of innocence and determination, were a painful echo of C'yra, their firstborn. C'yra, with her vibrant spirit, her infectious laughter, had been the embodiment of bravery, a light that had lit up their lives. But she was gone, taken by the 'bad guys,' leaving a gaping wound in their hearts.

Leona and Calliopra exchanged a look, a silent acknowledgment of the shared sorrow that lay beneath their surface strength. The memory of C'yra was a constant ache, a phantom limb they could never quite grasp. Yet, they couldn't dwell on it. They had to focus on Nala, on the future they were building from the ashes.

Leona forced a smile, her voice firm. 'Yes, my little brave warrior. We will.'

Nala snuggled closer, her small form a weight that felt both grounding and heavy. She didn't know the full depth of their loss, the pain they carried. But she knew, intuitively, that she was their hope, their future.

Chapter Text

Through the thick undergrowth, my heart pounded like a captive bird against my ribs. We had been dropped unceremoniously into the unwelcoming depths of the jungle. We were made to make our campsite, our training instructor Cobalt’s stern voice echoing through the dense foliage. “Survival depends on your ability to adapt,” he had growled. After we were briefed on today’s task, we said “yes Cobalt”.

Part of a team, we were tasked with scouring the jungle for a list of elusive items. Our group decided to split up, each member assigned a specific item to locate. I ventured off alone, my senses heightened as I navigated the labyrinth of vines and towering trees. I only need to find 4 objects off my list. 

As I strolled amidst the towering foliage, in search of the next item on my checklist. A sudden rustle emerged from the dense shrubbery. My senses heightened, I held my breath, my hand reflexively reaching for the trusty pocket knife secured to my side. With utmost care, I gingerly pushed aside the leaves, my heart pounding in my chest, ready for whatever awaited me.

But instead of encountering a predator, my gaze fell upon a small squirrel that scampered away. As I turned to resume my path, a bizarre sight met my eyes.

Crouched low amidst the undergrowth was a creature that defied easy categorization. Its lithe form moved with feline grace, its body covered in a rich russet brown fur that shimmered in the dappled light.

But its most striking feature was its eyes. One was a piercing bright yellow, the other a deep, hypnotic blue. A mesmerising heterochromia that I had never witnessed before.

'Emm, hello there,' I spoke, my voice a barely-audible whisper. 'Can you speak?' I cautiously extended my hand, hoping to avoid startling the creature.

It hissed, a low, guttural sound that sent shivers down my spine. I drew back, my hand instinctively hovering over my pocket knife. 'Okay, okay, sorry,' I mumbled, my voice shaking. 'You want a grey ration bar?' From my pack, I pulled out a bar, removed the packaging slowly and threw it toward the creature. I just realised that it was a brown ration bar and not the grey ones as I thought..

'I hope it likes brown ration bars… otherwise I'm screwed.' I muttered to myself.

The creature regarded me curiously, its tail swishing lazily. Its eyes held an intelligence that belied its animalistic exterior before it looked at what was on the ground before it. In that moment, I felt a profound connection to the creature, as if it understood my own longing for adventure and maybe friendship.

It sniffed the ration bar with its wet, pink nose, then devoured it in a few rapid bites. 

'Wow, seems like you really like brown ration bars, you're the first who liked to eat them. I don't really like them, the grey ones are better,' I said, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere.

It licked its lips before It came closer to me then, its heterochromia eyes fixed on mine, and sniffed me all over as if I were another interesting specimen. Its fur was tickling my neck, it was hard to keep still and my mouth shut. Then, it saw something I was holding in my hand, a medium sized task sheet. The creature snatched it from my grasp and vanished back into the undergrowth, leaving me standing there in stunned silence.

I started after it, curiosity and a thrill of adventure propelling me forward. The jungle seemed to close in around me, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. I chased after the creature, my senses on high alert, until I tripped on a root and tumbled down a steep incline, landing with a jarring thud. My ankle screamed in protest, a searing pain shooting up my leg. I managed to drag myself to lay my back against the tree.

I lay there, helpless, as the jungle's symphony of chirps and rustles echoed around me.

I was alone.

Suddenly, a familiar rustle broke the silence. The creature, my silent companion, emerged from the undergrowth. It circled me, its eyes filled with a strange, almost human concern. It came close to me, toward my injured ankle, nudged me gently with its nose, its fur soft against my skin. It was as if it understood my pain, my helplessness.

Suddenly I yelp from the unexpected wet sensation and look over to see the feline creature licking my hurt ankle. 

'Hey, it tickles,' I said aloud, trying to stifle a laugh. The creature paused, its head cocked to the side, as if acknowledging my humour. I felt a surge of hope. Maybe I wasn't alone after all. Maybe this creature, this strange, magnificent being, was going to help me.

I hovered my trembling hand above this creature's body, as its mane was attractive to the softness. I gently put my hand, my fingers brushing against its rough mane. A wave of warmth washed over me, a feeling of comfort in the midst of my predicament. The creature didn't flinch, its gaze unwavering as it was ‘helping’ me. A strange understanding pulsed between us, a silent communication I couldn't explain. Maybe it felt my pain, my fear.

After taking some time looking at this creature, I can make out that it was in fact a she, a female feline. I wanted to try and communicate with her again.

‘My name is Adora, thank you for helping me, what’s your name? I didn't see any sort of reaction by her still ears. So I continued, 'Don't you have a name?'

The feline turned to face me, I only noticed how she has freckles. I tried again by saying my name repeatedly with my finger pointing at myself and then I said you, while carefully pointing at the creature. 

The creature made feline noises in response. I finally realised she definitely doesn't understand what I’m saying. I decided to scratch her ears as it seems she likes it when I do that and she purrs affectionately. 

I then thought of an idea.

'Alright, what if I give you a name? I feel like everyone should have a name. Let me think….. I got it,  your name shall be... Catra.'

Adora wasn’t sure if it was just a coincidence or good timing that ‘Catra’, responded a meow. Before she laid her head on my lap looking onwards at the plants. 

I checked my horde-issue radio again and the solar battery was still too low. I decided it was best to rest, since Catra’s warm body is a comfort against the cold, damp earth. I drifted into a fitful sleep, my injured ankle surprisingly eased by the creature's presence.

Later-ish:

When I awoke, Catra was gone. But in its place, beside me, lay a pile of items from my list: a rare medicinal herb, a glowing, iridescent stone, and a handful of exotic fruits. I felt a rush of awe and disbelief. Catra had helped me, healed me, and collected what I needed.

My radio crackled to life. It was Lonnie, my team leader, her voice frantic. 'Adora, where are you? We found everything on your list, but no sign of you!'

'I'm on my way back,' I said, my voice stronger than I felt. 'I think I'm close to camp.'

As I stood, before I walked towards camp, I looked back at the spot where Catra had been. It was gone, leaving no trace. I couldn't tell if it was real or a figment of my injured mind, a hallucination born from pain and solitude.

Chapter Text

Chased big lizard into the thickest forest, now lost. Khel scent gone. Panic, sharp, hot, fur stands up.

'Kael! Kael!' I growl, but only leaves rustle and birds call.

See smoke rise, scent of burnt wood in air, alien place.

Cautiously approach voices – not like mine. Hide, see camp with strange beings. Gear in some, skins in others. Pack leader speaks unknown words.

Watch from trees, follow girl with yellow hair. Approach her, hiss, growl, tail lashes.

She speaks, extends hand, step closer. Snatch ration bar, eat. Sniff her, her noises, touch her. Snatch sheet, flee.

She chases, follow to jungle. Find her hurt, lick wound. Laughter echoes.

Adora speaks, name, Catra. Adora feeds Catra. Catra purrs.

Sun warm, Adora snores. Wake before her, fetch things, make amends.

Mother appears, eyes blaze. Catra meows, Ra urges to leave. Reluctantly, leave.

Thoughts race, curiosity sparked.

At seven years old, C'yra was a child of the wild. Her body, honed by the challenges of the jungle, was a testament to her life. Her skin, the colour of polished mahogany, was etched with tiny scars, each a story of a fall, a scrape, a close encounter with a thorny vine. Her claws, long and sharp, remained untrimmed, tools for climbing, digging, and defending herself. Her thick, brown mane, unkempt and wild, framed her face, hiding the curious glint in her eyes.

C'yra wore almost no clothes. The jungle itself was her clothing, a barrier against the elements. Her thick, dark fur, spread across her body like a luxurious coat, kept her warm in the cool nights and shielded her from the scorching sun.

The sun beat down on my fur, turning it a dull, dusty brown. I swished my tail, trying to keep the flies away, and glared at my brother, Kael, who was currently attempting to bury his head in a patch of wildflowers. '  Kael!' I hissed, 'Stop that! You're going to get pollen all over your fur.' He only grumbled and dug his head deeper into the flowers. I rolled my eyes, exasperated, and took off.

The jungle was a maze of tangled vines and towering trees, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and rotting fruit. I loved the jungle. It was my playground, my haven. But sometimes, I get carried away. Today was one of those times. I had chased a particularly plump lizard into the thickest part of the forest, and now, I was lost. The scent of Kael, usually strong and familiar, had faded. Panic welled up in my chest, a sharp, hot sensation that made my fur stand on end.

'Kael! Kael!' I called, my voice a low growl. But all I heard was the rustling of leaves and the distant calls of unseen birds.

Then, I saw it. A plume of smoke, rising from a clearing in the jungle. The scent of burnt wood hung heavy in the air, a strange, acrid smell I'd never encountered before.Now, lost and alone, I found myself in a place that felt strangely alien.

Cautiously, I crept forward, drawn by the sound of voices – not the familiar growls and chirps of my kind, but something softer, more melodic. I hid behind a thick bush, peering through the leaves at the sight that unfolded before me. A makeshift camp, made of sheets of materials, while others were rough-hewn wood and woven vines, sprawled before me. 

But the most jarring sight was the beings gathered there. They were small, barely taller than the shelters, but possessed features that made my fur stand on end. Some had scales, others furs, and still others skin that shimmered smoothly. I'd never seen anything like them before, my feral instincts screaming at me with a primal fear I couldn't understand. It was unlike anything I had ever seen.

The pack leader, a massive, muscular figure with a coat of shimmering cobalt scales, stood in the centre of this makeshift campsite, speaking words I couldn’t understand. The others responded with a chorus of 'Yes, Cobalt.' As the group dispersed, I hissed, digging my sharp claws into the soft earth, feeling a primal fear coil tight in my belly.

I decided to watch from afar, using the trees as my vantage point. I followed one group in particular—five of them, including a girl with hair like the sun, her features delicate and startlingly beautiful. They eventually split up, the others pairing off, but the sun-haired girl was alone.

I followed her, my instincts screaming for her to be my prey. But as I got closer, something shifted within me. She was alone, vulnerable, but her form, the shape of her hand, her delicate nose… they all were similar to myself.

I took a cautious step forward, a snapped twig betraying my presence. The girl turned and walked toward the bushes hiding me, but I was faster. I went to a different location before she parted with the large plants to find nothing. 

The small thing turned around and was frozen in place, her eyes wide with fear. She spoke, her voice a shaky whisper, words that I couldn't understand. The sounds made me rumble deep in my throat, my fur bristling, my posture defensive.

“Emm, hello there,” she spoke, her voice a barely-audible whisper. “Can you speak?” She cautiously extended her hand, hoping to avoid startling me. She tried to step closer, her hand reaching out to me, her movement unexpected. 

Upon seeing the person's outstretched hand, my eyes widened in alarm and I let out a sharp hiss, baring my teeth in a defensive gesture. My claws extended, ready to strike if the person made any sudden movements.

The thing in front of me was small, smaller than that big pack leader I saw earlier. Her eyes, a bright, piercing blue, were fixed on me. Something wet was on her face. As I pace back and forth to both sides of her, my tail swishing lazily, I could feel her fear, a scent like a damp, frightened animal. I continued to hiss, a low, guttural growl that sent staying still. 

My stomach rumbled, a loud, insistent growl that shattered the awkward silence. I knew what it meant - I was hungry.

The girl, for that’s what she was, smiled, a nervous, tentative gesture. She rummaged in a pouch hanging from her waist and pulled out what looked like a flat, grey brick. 

'Okay, okay, you must be hungry,' she mumbled, her voice trembling. 

'You want a grey ration bar?' She opened it slowly before she dropped it a safe distance away from herself.

I slowly move toward this object. I sniffed the object. It smelled different, metallic and strange. Curiosity piqued, I snatched it in my mouth, ripping it open with my sharp teeth. In a few quick bites, I devoured the ration bar.

Afterwards, I looked up to the girl, who remained frozen in place. Her gaze met mine again. I wanted to check her scent and see if I could understand her, so I came up close, and on my hind legs, I sniffed her neck and all over. As my paw landed on its torso. I’ve started to feel something…. I felt in her torso, it kept getting faster and faster, and I could smell sweat, however when my fur was touching her skin, it seemed to react to this thing as it made small noises here and there. 

My eyes, however, were caught by something else - a small sheet in her hand, filled with strange images.

It was like nothing I’d ever seen before. It depicted a world of textures and colours, a world I knew existed but my mind could barely grasp. My instincts took over. I snatched the sheet from her hand, my teeth gently clamping onto the paper. I turned and vanished into the undergrowth, my legs moving with a fluid grace I barely registered.

The small person scrambled after me – followed. I knew where these “picture things” belonged, deep within the jungle, a place I had called home for as long as I could remember. The jungle was a haven, a familiar friend, a place where I could move with ease and evade unseen dangers.

Suddenly, the sound of a scream pierced the air. I froze, turning back to see the girl, no longer behind me. I retraced my steps, following her scent, and saw her, lying against a tree, a grim look of pain and fear etched on her face. I recognized that look – a look that reminded me of myself, when Ra had licked away my pain after tripping up when I chased a butterfly.

I moved towards her slowly, my eyes drawn to the spot where she was injured. A wave of instinct flowed through me, a need to help, to bring comfort. I lowered myself, curled on top of the thing’s body, and began to lick her wound, my tongue rough but gentle, a silent offering of solace.

'Haha, it tickles!' she exclaimed, her laughter echoing through the silent forest.

As I continued to lick the injury, the thing gently stroked my mane and back. Her touch was unfamiliar yet comforting, and I allowed her to continue. The memory of the cold seeped into my mind, prompting me to continue to lie down atop her, my feline form providing warmth and protection.

The thing’s voice reached my ears, but her words remained an enigma to me. 'You were probably scared of me more than I was of you.' 

The thing’s voice continued, 'Don't you have a name?'

I turned my head to face her, my eyes meeting her water like eyes. I tilted my head in confusion. Silence stretched between us as I wondered at her inability to understand my feline language. Not even my physical cues.  

The thing kept making noises… ‘Adora,' she repeated, pointing to herself. 'Adora.'

It seems that ‘Adora’ is what is called. Or is an object. I made feline noises in response, unable to utter the words she spoke. Adora scratched my ears affectionately.

'Alright, from now on, your name shall be Cat, wait that is too obvious....hmmmmmm wait I got it... Catra.' Adora spent some time repeating Catra to me whilst also feeding me more ration bars. I guessed Catra is what I am now, I guessed. 

‘Catra’ I thought to myself, when I tried to speak it out, it came out as wild noises/ purrs.

The warmth of the sun on my fur was a comforting blanket. I nestled closer to Adora, her soft noises? Her eyes were shut? But her noises were a lullaby in the rustling leaves. I don’t know why I felt safe here, despite her presence. It was a strange feeling, this sense of companion? I have my mother and brother, but something about this is different. 

My eyes…… shut… to darkness and…. to………………. soft noises.  

Later-ish: 

I woke before Adora, the sun was still high in the sky. A pang of guilt still twisted my gut. She had been hurt, although her ankle now looked better, the result of a clumsy fall. I had been the one to get her that way, snatching the sheet of pictures from her side, a beautiful array of visuals that captivated my curiosity. I hadn't meant for her to chase after me, hadn't intended for her to trip and fall.

I resolved to make amends for her pain. The paper filled with images held the key to helping her since she may still ping with pain. With feline agility, I vanished into the dense undergrowth. One by one, I retrieved the items visually  depicted on the sheet, placing them gently beside her sleeping form.

As I deposited the last item,  a fragrant herb, I heard a familiar short series of barks. My mother, Ra, emerged from the bushes, her eyes blazing with concern. Her piercing gaze fell upon Adora, her instincts warning her of the foreign presence.

Fear gnawed at me, but I summoned my courage and mewed an explanation. Ra approached me, her teeth gently tugging at the back of my neck, urging me to leave. With a heavy heart, I obeyed. 

As I retreated into the depths of the jungle, my thoughts raced. I had never ventured so far from my home, and the encounter had left an indelible mark upon me. Seeing the things including this ‘Adora’ up close. Had ignited a spark of curiosity and longing within my wild heart.

Chapter Text

Ra had noticed a change in C’yra’s behaviour that intrigued her. She had become more vocal, not in the usual meows and wild sounds that cats typically make, but in a way that seemed like …almost human. It was as if she was trying to form words, but they came out broken and disjointed. In addition to C’yra repeating the same word that is ‘Catra’ and pointing at herself. Seems she found herself a new found name, Ra assumed.

One day, as Ra sat in the shade of a large tree, Catra approached her, her tail held high and her eyes bright with excitement. She seemed eager to communicate something important. Ra took notice and, sensing that there was something on her mind, she reached out to her.

As they sat together, Ra and Catra chatted about a name that seemed to come up frequently in her attempts to speak - ‘Adora’. Ra knew that Adora was the name of a human she had seen sleeping by the tree when she found Catra, some time ago. It was clear that she had formed a connection with this mysterious being, and Ra was curious to learn more.

Taking advantage of this rare moment on the subject of humans with C’yra, Ra began to explain to her about the different beings that inhabited the world beyond the jungle. She spoke of Etherians, like Adora, who were higher creatures who had lived on Etheria, for many years. There are many of them across the lands, some in smaller habitats while there are many populated in areas called villages and kingdoms. They also have Etherians beings such as hybrids that are beings with animal-like appearance but they ain’t wild. They also lived alongside humans like equals. 

Kael, Catra’s brother, listened intently from afar as Ra described how hybrids had a mix of human and animal traits, making them unique and special in their own way. Catra looked down at her hands, comparing them to Kael, and remarked on how different they were.

Ra could see the mixture of perplex and fascination in Catra’s eyes and decided to gently tell her that she herself was a hybrid being of some kind. At first, there was a moment of silence as Catra processed this new information. But then, without missing a beat, Catra simply said that she didn’t care  because she was grateful to be able to hunt and live in the jungle with her family.

Ra couldn’t help but beam with pride at her daughter’s resilience and deep love for her home. However, she also couldn’t ignore the fact that Catra’s adventurous spirit sometimes led her into perilous situations. With a gentle smile, Ra steered the conversation back to the topic of the beings that inhabited their world.

She cautioned Catra about the dangers that lurked outside their territory. Ra explained that while some beings, like Adora, may appear friendly, there were others who posed a threat. Hunters roamed the land, capturing animals and using them for cruel purposes. Meanwhile, some Etherians, driven by fear and misunderstanding, react defensively and lash out at creatures like us. Ra mentioned a conflict that was brewing, hinting at the additional potential dangers.

Despite her worries, Ra promised to educate Catra about the  Etherians, taking her to villages and teaching her to be cautious. She advised her not to stray too far from home until she had a better understanding of the world beyond their borders. Deep down, Ra knew that Catra’s curiosity could lead her to uncover secrets about her own heritage that she was hesitant to reveal.

Catra purred in agreement, accepting her mother’s guidance with a flick of her tail. Ra lovingly licked her face before her playful son, Kael, interrupted their conversation, bringing a light-hearted end to their serious discussion.

A week later:

Adora had arrived back at the same training ground, the same place where she felt conflicted about the imagery of a feral friend that she was not sure if she ‘dreamt’ when she was last here. Lost in her thoughts, she had barely noticed when the rest of her squad asked her what was on her mind. Startled out of her reverie, she declared that they were now on a mission to gather fishes from the nearby stream.

As they made their way towards their objective, Adora and her team trudged through the undergrowth, the cool air and sounds of nature surrounding them. Eventually, they reached a clearing and decided to take a well-deserved break. Kyle and Rogelio volunteered to go ahead and collect the fish, knowing they were only a short distance away.

Lonnie, always one to stick by Adora's side, stayed with her as they rested. They chatted idly, enjoying the peaceful moment of calm in the midst of their mission. Suddenly, there was rustling in the bushes nearby and Lonnie sprang to her feet, ready for action. Something had hit her and she was off like a shot, disappearing into the undergrowth before Adora had time to react.

Shaking her head in amusement at Lonnie's hot-headedness, Adora chuckled to herself as she watched her friend go charging off. It was moments like these that reminded her why she loved being a part of this team, the camaraderie and the shared experiences making every mission an adventure. With a grin, she got to her feet, ready to follow Lonnie into the unknown.

As Adora sat there contemplating, a brown blurry thing suddenly emerged from the bushes. Adora's eyes widened in surprise as she realised it was Catra!,  the same creature she had encountered days ago, the one she had affectionately named Catra. The two locked eyes, sharing a brief but intense moment of recognition before their connection was abruptly interrupted.

Lonnie came crashing back through the bushes, causing Catra to recoil in fear and run off. Adora quickly assessed the situation and realised that Catra was new to seeing humans. Wanting to see Catra again without the company, Adora concocted a quick excuse about wanting to explore further, and that she will catch up to her team at the campfire and hurriedly made her way into the vegetation where Catra headed. 

As she moved deeper into the forest, Adora couldn't shake the image of Catra from her mind. She felt strange as she now knows that Catra is real. As she navigated through the undergrowth, she caught glimpses of Catra brown fur darting through the trees, always just out of reach.

Despite the obstacles in her path, Adora pressed on, determined to see Catra. She called out softly, hoping to reassure the creature that she meant no harm. Suddenly, Catra jumped on Adora, surprising the young cadet as they both crashed onto the earth ground. Adora laughs as she sits up to Catra curling around Adora.

Adora: "Catra, you’re real!. I've missed you so much. I didn’t think I would see you again.." Adora hugs Catra, Catra being confused by the gesture, slips out of Adora hold as she decided to lay on the ground, her tail lashing back and forth in excitement by seeing her ‘Adora’ again. 

Catra softly whispered, "Adora," as she cautiously spoke the name aloud for the first time in front of someone.

Adora: You can speak!?

Catra: *tilts her head before she has gotten distracted by a nearby bird, making noises. Catra then started rapidly open and close her canine mouth* This make what appears to be clicking sounds to Adora's ears, this made the young cadet curious about what's Catra was doing.

Adora: Wow, okay, that is cool. Can you teach me how to make bird noises too? Adora started attempting to make sounds that has gotten Catra ears folded by how badly it has sounded. 

Catra went up close to Adora, grabbing a few fingers and placing it on her own throat while staring at her to show Adora how to make the sounds. This fails badly after a few tries and giggles between the girls. Until Adora tries her own way involving both hands over her mouth. Adora just managed to mimic the bird sounds. Catra grabbed Adora hands in amazement, Adora decided to teach her how she does it, long story short, Catra managed to do well despite her a couple of tries. What Adora also noticed was how Catra's hands fit well into her hands, like it was the same as hers in a way eventhough she was a wild creature. Her thought was stopped by the sudden heat weave that hit both of them. 

They gone to a nearby stream to hydrate themselves, with Adora attempting to refill her bottle as Catra playfully tries to grab it. They sit by the stream, their feet in the water, and Adora expresses her desire to spend more time with Catra during her month with the junior cadets, while also trying to avoid her team noticing she's missing.

Suddenly, a radio static sound interrupts them.

Radio: Hi Adora, It's Lonnie, are you there? It’s almost supper time, we are trying our best to cover for you and there is only so much we can use the good old toilet excuse. Get back here now. Over.

Adora: Oh no, Lonnie doesn't sound happy. Catra, I have to go now but I'll meet you here tomorrow to explore more of the jungle together. * Adora points to her surroundings and the setting sun to illustrate their meeting place.*

Adora: Bye, Catra!

Catra: 'Bye, Andorra.'

Chapter Text

The flickering torchlight painted dancing shadows on the stone walls of Queen Leona's royal work study. Her fingers, calloused but strong, tightened around the scroll she held, the endless petitions blurring into a frustrating, indecipherable mess. How many times must she read the same plea? 

“I swear to God, if I get one more damn request scroll, I will stick it up their ars—” Leona paused mid-rant, her thoughts cut short by the gentle intrusion of a familiar voice.

"My dear, Leona," came the lilting tone of Queen Calliopra, her wife and confidante. The orange light of her hair gleamed like the sunset, a soft contrast to the weighty atmosphere enveloping Leona. She stepped into the study, her delicate presence almost calming the tempest brewing inside the room.

Leona sighed, letting the scroll roll back upon itself. "They won't relent, Calliopra. They demand I approve the trade routes, saying we can't hide forever." The words tasted like ash in her mouth. 

"They are afraid, Leona, just-." Calliopra's gaze drifted towards the small figure curled up asleep on a pile of cushions in the corner. Nala, their five-year-old daughter, clutched a worn stuffed pink lion – a pale imitation of the tale of a majestic creature that once was a companion to the early royals of Halfmoon, now the told history had been lost to the Horde's devastation. But, it was also the same plushie that belongs to C’yra. This strings the magicat queen. Leona noticed the pain in her mate’s eyes as Calliopra’s gaze lingered on the pink lion. "I know that it belonged to C’yra," Leona said softly, her own heart aching at the memories. "I thought it would be nice to see the plushie with Nala, to keep a piece of her spirit alive rather than in dust. But it does hurt."

Calliopra nodded slowly, their luminous eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "It does. But we both know what it represents. C’yra is gone now." Leona wanted to stand up and comfort her mate, but Calliopra spoke back to what they were talking about before.

"They are afraid, Leona, just as we are," Calliopra continued, their voice heavy with the weight of the truth. "The council believes that reopening trade routes is the only way to ensure our people’s survival. They think that burying our heads in the sand will lead to more destruction."

Leona swallowed, pushing down the familiar pang of grief that always lingered, sharp and raw. It had been five years since the Horde had driven them underground, five years since they lost their firstborn, C’yra, in the chaos. Five years of hiding, of fear, and a grief so profound it threatened to swallow them whole.

"I understand their fear," Leona finally said, her voice hoarse. "But the memory of what happened… It's still so vivid. How can I risk Nala, risk all our people, for the sake of a few trinkets and spices?"

Calliopra sat beside her, taking her hand. "The people need hope, Leona. They need to feel like we can survive, that we can rebuild. And perhaps… perhaps these traders bring news, whispers of resistance against the Horde."

Leona looked at her wife, her heart torn. Calliopra was right, as always. Their people were losing hope, their spirit dwindling in the oppressive darkness of their subterranean refuge. Even Nala, innocent as she was, seemed to carry the weight of their fear in her quiet demeanour. 

"What if…" Leona began, a flicker of an idea sparking in her mind. "What if we send a small group, disguised as traders, to gather information? We could learn about the Horde's movements, maybe even find allies."

Calliopra's eyes widened. "It's risky, Leona, but… it could work. We could send some of our best warriors, those skilled in stealth and subterfuge.’

Leona then commented, ‘We still need real traders/merchants since they know what to get and how to grab a bargain. Our additional warriors will act like assistants in disguise. This idea will go hand in hand with what our people have been requesting for months.’

“At least this way, we can strengthen our economy,” Calliopra remarked aloud, through a shadow of doubt lingered in her mind. She questioned the morality of restricting access to their country, even if it was temporary until New Halfmoon healed.

Hope, fragile as a new-born butterfly, stirred within both the magicat queens. Maybe, just maybe, this could be the first step towards reclaiming their lives, their world. Maybe they could find a way to fight back, to honour C'yra's memory, not with grief, but with action. 

She looked down at Nala, her chest constricting with a fierce love. She wouldn't let her daughter inherit a life of fear and hiding. She would build a better future, even if it meant taking a leap of faith into the unknown.

A spell was casted that lit up the room, it was a messaging spell aimed to her royal advisor, Hefina, to arrange the kingdom meeting with the council, herself and community members with regards to officially plan out the trading again. 

"I would consider drafting a decree," Leona said, her voice firm with resolve. "This idea would involve sending out a trading party. But they will be our eyes and ears, seeking not just goods, but hope." 

In the enchanted kingdom of Brightmoon, the sun set low on the horizon, casting a golden hue over the rolling hills and sparkling rivers that wound through the land. The air was filled with the melody of birds chirping, and the gentle rustle of leaves whispered secrets as the day slowly surrendered to twilight. Queen Angella, the heart and soul of the kingdom, stood at her balcony, silently observing the scene below.

Her gaze fell upon the royal garden filled with vibrant flowers and the laughter of local children at play. In the centre of it all, she spotted her daughter, Glimmer, a radiant young girl with a spirit as bright as her name suggested. Beside her, dear Castaspella, her late husband, Micah’s sister, was guiding Glimmer through a series of intricate hand gestures for a spell they were attempting to weave together. Angella felt a warmth in her chest, proud of their bond blossoming before her eyes.

But as she watched, a shadow flickered across Angella’s heart when she remembered the words Glimmer had softly confided to Castaspella earlier that day. “Auntie, I miss my father,” Glimmer had said, her small voice shaky but determined, revealing the weight of absence in her heart. Angella felt that familiar ache return, one that had shadowed her ever since her beloved husband had gone to fight against the Horde, never to return.

Angella had always known that the loss of her husband weighed heavily on Glimmer, but hearing it spoken aloud struck a different chord within her. She stepped back from the balcony, the cool evening air hitting her like a gentle reminder of her duties. As queen, she had to remain strong for her people, but in her role as a mother, she felt a swell of vulnerability.

“Perhaps it’s time to talk,” Angella murmured to herself, her heart racing with uncertainty. Gathering her robes, she made her way down the palace stairs and crossed the garden towards her daughter and her sister-in-law.

As she approached, Castaspella looked up and nodded knowingly. “It seems like you have a piece of your heart missing too, Angella,” she whispered, her voice barely above the rustle of the garden. Angella sighed, understanding the connection they all shared in their grief.

Glimmer’s laughter rang out as she finished a successful spell, showering them both in a sprinkle of glitter stardust. It transformed her surroundings into a spectacle of shimmering light. Angella’s heart swelled with warmth and sorrow alike, for in moments like this, she saw glimpses of her husband reflected in her daughter’s joy.

“Can I join you, my little star?” Angella asked softly, kneeling beside Glimmer, who looked up with wide, sparkling eyes.

“Mommy!” Glimmer exclaimed, the joy in her voice warm and inviting. “Auntie and I just made magic!”

“I see that,” Angella replied, a genuine smile curling her lips despite the weight on her heart. “But can we talk about something important for a moment?”

Glimmer nodded eagerly, curiosity flickering in her eyes, but Angella could see the hint of uncertainty there too.

“I heard you talking to Auntie earlier,” Angella began gently, her voice steady and soothing. “About missing your Daddy.”

Glimmer’s spark dulled a little, her brows knitting together. “I do, Mommy. Sometimes, when I see the flowers, I remember how he used to tell me stories while we picked them together. And no one tells stories like he did.”

Angella reached out, guiding her daughter’s hands into her own. “Your father was the best storyteller. He travelled through the land, learning from every part of magic. But he loved you with all his heart, Glimmer. It’s okay to miss him. It means you loved him deeply.”

“I want him to come back,” Glimmer murmured, tears glistening in her big, doe-like eyes. “It’s lonely sometimes.”

Angella felt a pang strike deep within her. She didn’t want her daughter to feel this loneliness, to bear such a heavy burden. “I miss him too, my precious girl. He was our light. But remember, he still lives on in our hearts and the stories we share. He may not be here, but he is always with us.”

“I wish I could show him what I’ve learned,” Glimmer admitted, her voice trembling with emotion.

“I have no doubt he would be so proud of you,” Angella said, her eyes sparkling with tears. “Just like he would be proud of you helping Auntie Castaspella today.”

With those words, Castaspella joined them, wrapping her arms around both Angella and Glimmer in a warm embrace. “And let’s keep sharing those stories,” she said, smiling down at Glimmer. “Whenever you miss him, we can talk about him together. We can create new adventures that would make him proud.”

Glimmer beamed at the idea, her heart lighter as the warmth of family wrapped around her. They spent the evening under the stars and weaving stories of brave heroes and faraway lands, all while framed against the tranquil glow of the moon.

In that moment, as the laughter echoed and the love enveloped them, Angella felt a flicker of hope for the future. Even in the heartbreak, there was magic—a light that would continue to shine, igniting a path for Glimmer and ensuring that her father’s legacy would live on in their hearts forever.

Chapter Text

After breakfast and morning drills, Adora managed to take a break by a tree on the edge of the campsite. At one point, there were other cadets from her year that decided to join her since they were all on a break since the other half of the group of cadets were being trained.

The Sunlight poured through the leaves like warm honey, Adora often found herself lost in thought. She'd roamed the vibrant landscape so many times since she has been here, that each day felt like a new story to be written, yet there was one thread that consistently wove through her musings: Catra.

From their first encounter, Adora had been enchanted by Catra’s mysterious nature. With her feline features—a wild tuft of dark hair, pointed black ears that flicked with every rustle, and the sharp, vertical slits that seemed to hold untold stories—Catra radiated an energy that both intrigued and bewildered Adora. It was her words, or rather, her lack of them, that left Adora puzzled.

Every time they played, chased dragonflies, or explored the labyrinth of jungle together, Catra tried to mimic Adora whenever she speaks, possibly a way to express herself maybe. The way she would open her mouth, her brow furrowing in concentration, only to be met with a soft growl or a low purr was poignant. Adora's heart ached with the desire to help her friend break free from this barrier. Was it just a peculiarity of Catra’s wild nature? Or was it something deeper—something intrinsic to who Catra was? The idea seemed to nag at her, weaving itself into the very fabric of her thoughts. Adora decided to act on this.

Later on:

"Let’s try something different, I want to help you with talking, Catra," Adora finally declared later one lazy afternoon where they were by the huge tree where Catra helped her with her ankle. Since then, that place became a sort of meeting point for the two of them, in a way, it acted like a hideout. They sat on a sun-warmed rock, the forest alive with sounds. Her blonde hair glimmered in the soft light, and her blue eyes sparkled with determination. 

Catra tilted her head, one ear twitching as she regarded Adora with a mix of curiosity and cautious hope. Adora smiled brightly, her heart swelling with purpose. “Let’s start with simple words! Repeat after me,” she suggested, mimicking the way birds chirped in perfect harmony.

The next few days unfolded like a painting, with each lesson adding more colours to their friendship. Adora would arrive each afternoon at their usual spot—a wide, sturdy oak tree, its branches spreading like welcoming arms. She packed snacks in a small bag from the horde campsite, the tantalising scent of fruits, pieces of meat and Catra’s favourite - brown ration bars wafting through the air. Food—simple, delightful food—was the first thread in the tapestry they were weaving together.

As Adora settled against the trunk of the tree, she cast her gaze around, waiting for Catra to emerge from the shadows. The rustle of leaves announced her arrival, and Catra stepped into the sunlight, her posture alert, ears twitching with curiosity.

“Hey there,” Adora greeted gently, holding up the tin container enticingly. Catra’s nose twitched, catching the scent of the treats. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she stepped forward, the air thick with an unspoken trust.

Adora had discovered that while Catra didn’t speak, she understood the language of gestures and food quite well. With each small piece of fruit Adora offered, she saw the flicker of excitement in Catra's eyes. Over time, their exchanges became a playful dance; Adora would toss a piece of snack away, and Catra would leap, agile and quick, to snatch it up mid-air. Laughter bubbled from Adora in joyous abandon.

She taught Catra the names of things in the jungle, what each part of their body was called, and the emotions that coloured their world. Together, they played games that combined learning and laughter—saying the names of animals while pretending to be them—with Catra mimicking the sounds with an intensity that made Adora's heart skip a beat.

Slowly, but surely, Catra began to respond. The first time she successfully uttered “tree” came as a gasping surprise, even to herself. Adora clapped her hands in delight, showering her friend with praise that echoed through the trees, causing birds to scatter in bursts of colour.

“See, you can do it!” Adora cheered, her eyes wide with joy. “Just like that! You’ll be speaking in no time.”

It was one of those days when the air was thick with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and the world seemed to pulse with possibility. The sun hung lazily in the sky, casting playful shadows across the lush green grass. Adora, with her heart full of hope and a determination that defied her tender age, looked at Catra sitting cross-legged a few feet away. Her feline friend was as beautiful as she was wild, her lithe body tensed with hesitation.

“Let’s try to say, ‘I like the forest,’” Adora prompted, her voice gentle and encouraging. She could feel the thrill of anticipation bubbling in her chest. It was a simple sentence, a building block of communication, but for Catra, it felt like an insurmountable mountain.

Catra’s eyes flickered with a mix of confusion and determination. Adora watched intently as her friend shaped her mouth around the words, her brow furrowing in concentration. For a moment, Adora thought she might succeed. But then, with a stillness in her gaze, Catra fell silent, unable to release the words trapped inside her. Adora’s heart sank, recognizing the struggle that lay behind Catra’s intense stare.

With a soft smile brimming with understanding, Adora approached and wrapped her arms around Catra in a tight hug. Laughter bubbled up from deep within her, a joyous song that echoed around them. Catra’s body went rigid, the discomfort of the embrace evident, yet she tolerated it for Adora’s sake. 

“It’s okay,” Adora murmured against the brown fur that has the hue of orange highlighted from the sun, her voice soothing. “You did well so far, Catra.” 

But then Catra’s body twitches, and she begins to dry heave, slackening from Adora’s embrace. Adora’s heart raced, realising that she might have pushed too hard. The anxiety flashing in Catra’s face spoke volumes; she had flinched from the pressure. Noticing how even small interactions could rattle her friend, Adora calmed herself, striving to match Catra’s rhythm.

“I know it’s hard,” Adora said softly, immediately regretting her overzealous attempt to prompt Catra into physical touch as well as talking. As young as she was, Adora had learned from her time in the horde cadet unit—she had witnessed many people wrestle with their fears and anxiety from everyday situations. She needed to shift gears, to help Catra find her ground. Reaching into her pocket, she revealed a couple of fish, glistening softly as they caught the daylight—a treat from the nearby stream.

Catra glanced at the offering, curiosity flickering in the depths of her dilated coloured eyes. Her breathing has changed but her puffed up body was the same. With a sudden burst of energy, she lunged forward, grabbing both of the fishes with her teeth and retreating to a space further away. She laid back in the sun-drenched grass, the anxiety slowly melting away as she began to munch on her find.

Adora settled back in her spot, content to savour her lunch while keeping an eye on Catra’s progress. The silence stretched between them, but it was a warm silence.  Yet, as she watched Catra, Adora was struck with a sense of confusion. Catra had shown glimpses of language, had uttered simple words on occasion, but still held an air of wildness—almost like she was caught between two worlds.

The girl had observed moments when Catra recoiled at loud noises, tensed at the sight of other creatures, or shied away from any intrusion of personal space. It was clear that her friend was grappling with something deeper.  Adora couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that perhaps the struggle to speak was more profound than mere anxiety. Was it that Catra couldn’t recognize her own voice? Or was it that speaking felt painful or uncomfortable to Catra? Maybe that has been a thing since she was born?

As they both chewed in peace, Adora mused over the intricacies of speech versus silence. To communicate was to connect, and connection, she knew, was a fragile thing, especially for Catra.

The clouds began their slow dance, rolling across the vibrant sky, and Adora’s mind wandered. What would it take to help Catra find her voice? Instead of book knowledge or rigid lessons, their journey needed gentleness, exploration—a dance of trust. It wouldn't be a race against time but a tender walk through the land lets say. She is aware that being here is only temporary until the assessment day, but she hasn't thought much ahead due to only wanting to focus on the moment. 

Adora placed a hand on her heart, breathing in the peaceful air. “We’ll get there,” she whispered to herself, and most importantly, to Catra. “Together.” And that promise hung between them, a bond stronger than words, resonating in the gentle rustle of the leaves and the vibrant life surrounding them.

"What if we try again tomorrow?" Adora suggested, her voice as soft as the breeze. Catra barked, her tail flicking in a way that spoke volumes. No words were needed; in that moment, everything felt just right.

Chapter Text

In the luminous dawn of the kingdom of Salineas, the sun bathed the royal meeting room in golden light, casting long shadows across the polished marble floors. The air buzzed with tension as the King sat at the head of the grand table, his regal attire juxtaposed with his furrowed brow. Around him sat his most trusted advisors, council members of notable wisdom, and a handful of spies who had risked their lives in the treacherous Fright Zone, a place where whispers often turned to wails.

“The horde’s youngest recruits, mere children, are being drafted into their malevolence,” said Lynda, a woman with raven-black hair, framing her intense gaze. The spies had just delivered their harrowing news. "They are lost in a jungle somewhere, as part of their training. However there are still young people back in the Fright zone. The only bittersweet is their Second-in-command is off on some secret mission regarding a runestone, we don’t know which one but we know that the Horde’s powerful dark mage is away currently."

The King’s jaw clenched, his grip tightening around the armrest of his ornate throne. Anger coursed through him like a whirlpool. "Children," he murmured, the word bitter on his tongue. "I can’t believe this. This was mentioned before but now it’s true. How low must one descend to use the innocent in their schemes?"

A murmur of agreement rippled through the council. One advisor, Lord Bren, stepped forward, his voice steady against the growing tide of fury. "Your Majesty, if the horde’s resources are spread thinly across the regions, now may be our chance to strike back at their heart. It’s an opportune moment, but we must act with caution. We ought to notify the Alliance of our findings and gather their support."

Others nodded, weighing the validity of Bren's proposal. As the discussion grew spirited, however, the King’s heart thudded with a singular impulse. The thought of those children, of his own late daughter’s laughter echoing in the castle halls, ignited a firestorm within him. "Caution may be the advice of the wise, but it is not the path for the righteous!" he thundered, unsettling the tranquil morning atmosphere.

"I declare we will attack the horde while their forces are fractured! We shall rescue the rest of those young people in the Fright zone and put an end to their reign of terror!" The King’s words resonated with fervour, but they also struck unease into the hearts of his advisors.

“Your Majesty, please!” another advisor, Lady Caliph, interjected. “You cannot lead an army against the horde without proper preparation—”

“They are using children! We cannot wait!” the King’s voice rose, drowning her reasoning. "We will assemble a battalion at once. We shall not sit idly by while the innocent suffer."

A palpable silence hung in the room as the gravity of his words sank in. The weight of a hasty decision rested ominously in the air, but the Kings’ mind was resolute. He found the fervour in his own heart reflected in his council, and soon there was a spark of fire igniting conversations among the advisors and spies. They were swept up by the King’s resolve, the anger propelling them into a unity they rarely experienced.

As plans were hastily laid out, the sun rose higher in the sky, illuminating the room and igniting a fire in the hearts of all present. Despite knowing the risks, despite the worry etched into the faces of those around him, the King could not shake the feeling: this was the moment they had long waited for; it was time to reclaim their kingdom from the grip of darkness.

“Saddle the best steeds!” he commanded, “We leave at first light tomorrow. Gather the forces, ready the weapons, and prepare to send word to the Alliance if there is still time!” The urgency of his words ignited a collective determination.

As the meeting dispersed, the lingering warmth of hope threaded through the air even as uncertainty whispered warnings in the corners of their minds. Alone for a moment, the King stared out of his grand window, the sprawling lands of Salineas reflecting inside him the responsibility he bore. This was not merely a battle for land but a fight for the soul of their kingdom—for the children whose laughter should echo the halls instead of their cries.

The afternoon sun filtered through a canopy of green, revealing a campsite meticulously arranged by the Horde captains for their young cadets. Tents with the red logo flapped in the warm breeze, while the sound of boots  and shouting echoed amidst the trees.

Adora, a dedicated Horde cadet, found solace in this infuriating yet invigorating atmosphere. Yet, in the back of her mind, a nagging feeling gnawed at her; tomorrow would mark their yearly assessment, a day when each cadet’s worth would be weighed against the might and discipline expected of her junior stage by the Horde. The intensity of the day before weighed on her, causing unease in her stomach. Exhausted from this morning practice, she used her break time to curl up in her group tent, seeking refuge in sleep.

But somewhere, deep in the tangle of the jungle, Catra paced restlessly by her favourite place - hideout. Her mixed coloured eyes flickered with concern. She hasn't seen Adora for a while; since she was spread between her family and this Adora ( one moon max... Catra doesn’t understand the concept of times nor days yet). Despite the fact that she promised her mother that she wouldn't venture out further than her home and the safe areas.

‘Adora?’ Catra was quiet to the point that the plants overtook her voice. as she was kneeling on all fours to seek out the scent of her friend. The second she caught the tiny bit of scent, Catra made the dash toward the direction of her friend. Climbing up the trees, running from branches to branches, jumping from rocks to other surfaces. 

Catra's feet were aching from how she was rushing through the green jungle. She suddenly stopped, stillness was all over her body, as she could hear foreign noises that shook her internal conflicts. She rarely did venture this far from their secret hideout. Her hands were digging deep into the soft muds that soon overlapped her hands. Tails swishing either side. Her breathing was hard at one point, until she heard something that was somewhat familiar…

‘Cadets! Line up, each of you will shoot at that target over there nailed in front of the trees .Pretend they are nasty princesses.’ a loud voice was heard.

Catra thought to herself about the word tree, and this grounded her on why she was here. The sounds of gun shooting danced through the trees. Unable to shake the feeling, Catra decided to breach the scope of her wild nature and make her way to the campsite.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

When Adora slowly awoke, her eyes opened to see a burred brown thing. The unyielding weight of anxiety settled at the pit of her stomach. Her eyes widened in confusion as they landed on an unmistakable figure draped at her feet. “Catra!” she exclaimed, her voice barely a whisper. Her friend’s presence brought a warmth to her heart, but a flood of panic washed over her. “You can’t be here! What if someone sees you?”

Catra simply looked up at her, sharp ears twitching as she hissed softly, “Adora.”

Adora's heart raced. They were friends, yes, but there were unspoken rules guiding their very different lives. She composed herself, knowing she could not let fear cloud her judgement. “Okay, okay. Just... let’s get you out of here.”

The two friends navigated the campsite cautiously. Adora kept her voice low, pointing for Catra to follow her lead. They nearly escaped unnoticed until Kyle, a well-meaning and slightly oblivious cadet, appeared, his head cocked in confusion.

‘Hey Adora, did you rest well? Wait, where are you going? 

Adora’s heart pounded as she instinctively drew closer to Catra, who crouched low, hidden behind her. “My nap was good…..Uh, I was... um... just wanting to have fresh air!”

Kyle’s gaze sharpened. “Fresh air? You look like you’re hiding something...”

“Please!” Adora blurted out, desperate. “Listen, could you cover for me? I’ve got some rations in it for you later.”

A moment of silence stretched between them, before a sudden smile crept onto Kyle's face. “Fine, but you owe me big time!” He gestured toward the trees. “Go on, I’ll keep the force captains busy!”

Adora seized the opportunity, gently grabbing Catra’s hand and pulling her into the verdant embrace of the jungle. As they weaved through the underbrush, laughter and chatter faded behind them, replaced by the tranquil sounds of the wild.

Later on:

Emerging from the shadows, they arrived by a crystal-clear stream that wound through the jungle. The soothing sound of water splashing over stones breathed life into their secluded spot. “You hungry Catra? 

‘Yes, me am’ Catra says with enthusiasm.

"Let's catch some fish!” Adora exclaimed, her joy unfurling like the petals of a blooming flower. After setting up the fire made from Adora’s basic training 101.

With excited strides, she rummaged in the shallow waters, splashing playfully while Catra observed with a mixture of curiosity and amusement before she dashed her claws through the clear water. Soon, fish slipped through their fingers, darting away, but laughter filled the air.

After enjoying some fresh fish for a snack. Adora’s mind turned to practice, and she found a sturdy stick, a remnant of a fallen tree. “Time for my quick fighting poses!” she announced, flipping the stick in her hand.

As she began to practise, she caught sight of Catra watching intently. Adora noticed a familiar glint in Catra's eye. She was laying on her stomach, she was staring at Adora as a prey. Focused went back to her training.

After warming up with slow poses, Adora started off with moving her arms to balance and Striking stances. Catra gradually moved her body upward. It felt odd to Catra to be standing on her legs, normal body position has always been all fours, crouching, hunching over and so on. It was hard for Catra to get used to this position with her body.

Kicking was Adora's favourite part of her training. After a while, at the corner of her eye, she noticed something. The wild girl, usually unpredictable and untamed, began to mimic her movements from behind.

Laughter bubbled up from Adora, this completely threw Adora out of her focus. She turned around to see Catra still wobbling from not being used to standing, Catra then decided to crunch down, licking herself. With a burst of inspiration, Adora began rummaging through her bag. “You know what? I have something for you!”

Catra was unbothered since she was focused on licking her sweat off her fur and resting from whatever she just did. Catra then noticed Adora coming up toward her with both arms behind her back, smiling really hard. Adora then crouches down, mimicking Catra pose. She pulled out the Horde’s official survival and combat book, its pages filled with visuals and words. “It’s for you, Catra! These pictures would help you to learn the techniques I was  practising, and there are some words too.’ she said, pointing with her small soft fingers, slipping through many pages with visual pictures that caught Catra attention. Adora handed the book over with an earnest grin.

Catra wasn’t sure what to do or say.

Adora noticed this, she put down the book by her side and she slowly touched Catra hands before putting them into position. Catra blushed as being somewhat close to Adora. Catra would normally get shy or timid, but this time, it was different since Adora was on her level and has known Adora for a long time. 

‘Normally, the person receiving something, especially a gift, can say thank you’. Adora let go of Catra's hands before she grabbed the book and handed it right into Catra palms. Adora mouths out the phrase ‘Thank you Adora.’

Catra looked straight at Adora, her ears moved as she slowly expressed .... something alright.

‘Thank yoooo-u Adora’

Catra’s tail wrapped around Adora’s hand. This surprised Adora as this was new. She wasn’t sure if this was good or if Catra felt anxiety until she realised that this was Catra showing her way of being happy, and thankful. 

Catra accepted the gift, her eyes wide with interest. Thought she lacked words, her spirit spoke volumes. She interacted with the pages, tracing lines with her fingers, absorbing each visual as if they were fragments of her untamed heart.

A few moments later:

Adora explains to Catra that she would soon be returning home - to the fright zone after tomorrow’s assessment day.  She tries to tell Catra that she can’t come back as it’s too risky and that she would come to meet her at their hideout before she goes as a last goodbye - in two moons.’ Adora's hands were making moon signs and pointing in the sky above them.

"Adora…Home?" Catra's voice was a mixture of confusion and trepidation, her small hand mimicking a double wave towards the expanse of jungle beyond where they sat. “Too fast?”

“Back to my camp first,” Adora added, her hands moving like the winds that swayed the treetops. “Tomorrow…is assessment day. You can’t come with me to camp. Too many people..” 

Catra’s brows furrowed as she tried to make sense of the foreign terminology. Her mind danced back to that small being, the boy from Adora’s camp with bright eyes and a friendly smile. “people?” she asked hesitantly, mirroring Adora’s gestures, instinctively mimicking Kyle’s height and hair.

“Too risky,” Adora added, making her hands dance in the air like the moons, a captivated expression on her face as she did. She pointed and waved her fingers high, trying to illustrate the distance, the separation. “See? Two moons, two sleep cycles. I meet Catra at ‘hideout’.” Her smile was bright, but unease flickered beneath.

The words hung heavy in the air. Catra's shoulders slumped, the colour draining from her cheeks as she clutched a beaten-up book that had been her companion since Adora gave it to her. 

“Y-yes!” Catra's voice broke the heavy silence, a quiver of raw emotion lacing her words. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, reflecting a storm of feelings she couldn't quite contain. Without a second thought, she hurled the book aside and sprinted toward Adora, crashing into her with a fervent embrace. The force of Catra's feelings caught Adora completely off guard; she had never seen this kind of vulnerability in her wild friend before, the fierce exterior stripped away by the urgency of the moment. “No leave! You… not go!”

“Catra...” Adora's voice was tender, a soothing balm in the chaos of emotions swirling around them. She sensed the weight of Catra's words—this wasn’t a sweet farewell. Her heart tightened as she gently encircled Catra in her arms, grounding them both. “I want to take you with me, but... it wouldn’t be right. Your life is here. This doesn’t mean goodbye forever. I promise to hold onto this moment and to you, Catra.”

“Two moons,” Catra repeated, her voice a fragile whisper.

Adora felt her heart twist at the sight of Catra. She knew she needed to leave for her training camp soon, but not without sharing a piece of her world with Catra. “Let’s not end this day like this,” she thought to herself.

In a moment of resolve, after reaching for the fallen book, Adora sat down on a flat stone, patting the place beside her. “Come here! Let’s look at this together.”

Catra was still as she combed through her mane. Adora softly repeated herself ' ‘Hey Catra’’ Adora picked up the book as she showed Catra the visuals.

Catra hesitated for a moment, before sitting beside Adora, her body tense but curious. Adora opened the book, revealing colourful illustrations of the jungle, complete with notes on survival skills. In addition to combat skills and techniques that Catra have seen before from Adora’s practice.

Catra’s face lit up, and her wild spirit surged back. “Show! Show!” she shouted, feigning bravado.

“Look here,” Adora pointed to a page filled with drawings of jungle flora. “This is how you find food in the wild. To be fair, you properly know some already so we can skip this.” She traced the outline of a small herb that looked much like the ones Catra had brought to her before.

“And this!” Adora flipped the page, showing sketches of improvised shelters made from leaves and branches. “You can make a place to sleep when it rains. You’re already the best at climbing!” She giggled, imagining Catra scaling the tallest trees effortlessly. “You’ll be a master jungle dweller.”

Catra couldn’t help but smile, the spell of sadness beginning to lift as she lost herself in the wonders of the pages before them. “I… learn!” she exclaimed, her speech a delightful mix of enthusiasm and broken words.

Adora decided to flip through to the fun part that Catra would be the most engaged, the combat stances and strategies. “This one,” she said, pointing to a picture of a defensive stance. “You put your feet like this, and your hands up,” she demonstrated, her own movements precise and calm. “It helps you stay steady.”

Catra watched attentively, mirroring Adora’s actions, her brow furrowing in concentration. “Like… tree!” she exclaimed, as if she had found the perfect analogy in the sprawling forest around them. “Roots hold… and strong.”

“Yes!” Adora agreed, a wide smile breaking across her face. “Exactly, like roots!”

The girls delved deeper into pages filled with illustrations of combat, techniques, and tactics. Catra, unable to read the words, absorbed the visual lessons with a fierce curiosity. Each pose, each strategy seemed to ignite flames of possibility within her.

As the day began to get toward the early evening, Adora didn’t realise how time went so fast. She knew her departure was inescapable. She gently closed the book, meeting Catra’s searching gaze. “Catra, I want you to know that no matter what happens when I leave, you’re strong and capable. You have all this in you,” she said, placing a hand over Catra's heart, a symbol of their bond.

Catra nodded slowly, words failing her. Instead, her tail loops around Adora's wrist.

With a final deep breath, Adora got up and gave the book to Catra. Without realising, Adora tears were going on her cheek, before she did anything, Catra went up and licked the tears off her face.

Adora giggles as she says  “Two moons,” she promised one last time, brushing her fingers through Catra’s wild hair. “I will return. We’ll have more adventures, I promise.”

In the heart of New Halfmoon, a mystical underground kingdom veiled beneath shimmering crystals and entwining roots embedded in the solid rock surfaces, a palpable tension thrummed through the air like electronic buzz. The grand arena, a colossal expanse carved from ancient stone, glimmered under the ethereal glow of bioluminescent fungi and fire touches. The echo of paw steps resonated off the walls as Magicat citizens filled every corner, their eyes shimmering with curiosity and concern.

At the centre of the arena stood Queen Leona, the regal magicat with fur that shimmered like molten gold, and Queen Calliopra, whose coat bore a mixture of  light, orange hue of sand. Together, they formed a formidable pair, their bond forged through both love and the countless trials of ruling the enigmatic kingdom. They flanked their advisors and council members, their expressions a mixture of determination and compassion.

The crowd hushed as Hefina, one of the advisors, a stout magicat with a tufted tail, stepped forward, clearing her throat loudly enough to grab attention. “Citizens of New Halfmoon!” she declared, her voice reverberating in the stillness. “We gather in this sacred arena to share news that will shape our kingdom’s future.”

Queen Leona then stepped forward, her presence commanding as the golden light surrounding her glimmered softly. “Thank you, esteemed advisors,” she began, her tone steady, “for your unwavering support.” The murmurs quieted, anticipation crackling in the air as she continued. “Today, we, the royal queens of Halfmoon, have made the decision to consider trading with lands beyond our borders. We had heard your voices. After 5 years since the invasion, we want to start making further progress to strengthen our kingdom.”

Cheers erupted from some sections of the crowd, a bright chorus of hope and renewed vitality ringing through the arena. Yet, a few voices rose in protest, “But what of another invasion if we get discovered? What of the dangers beyond our borders?” Their scepticism hung in the air like dark clouds.

Stepping gracefully to Leona’s side, Queen Calliopra raised her hand, urging calm as she prepared to address the people. “Fear not, my beloved Magicats,” she proclaimed, her voice smooth and melodic. “We have formed a plan that will keep our kingdom safe. All trade will be conducted by our own kin, away from our sacred grounds. No outsiders shall step foot in Halfmoon until we are fully restored.”

A wave of reassurance washed over the crowd, punctuated by nods and murmurs of understanding.

Just then, a soft giggle echoed behind Queen Leona. She turned to see her daughter, Nala, a sprightly young magicat with fur splashed in Tortoiseshell. With delight, Queen Leona lifted Nala onto her shoulders, their eyes sparkling with shared joy. 

“We will provide every citizen with a list of what we need, and any objections can be voiced to your local councils,” Queen Leona resumed, glancing fondly at Nala perched high above, her tiny paws gripping tightly to her mother’s ears. “Together, we will create a prosperous future, one filled with hope and opportunity for our families.”

The cheers of the crowd rose again, a magnificent crescendo. Nala waved her paw, caught up in the excitement, and every magicat from the ancient council elders to the youngest kits celebrated together, united by the promise of brighter days. Queen Calliopra smiled at her wife and daughter, knowing how this moment would be woven into the tapestry of their kingdom’s history.

As the royal queens stepped off the stone platform, the advisors took over, elaborating on details and logistics before  the crowd began to disperse, the energy still crackling among them like the flickering lights in their underground haven.

Chapter Text

After Adora left to go back to the campsite, Catra was heading back to her den:

‘Hoo-me’ Catra whispers to herself as she tries to understand what that word was since Adora has mentioned it a couple of times. Ironically as she was heading toward what is her home.

Yet, as she clawed her way through familiar paths as the skies changed from light to early darkness, a shiver of anxiety brushed against her spine. The memory of the campsite lingered like a shadow, the human structures looming low and unnatural against the backdrop of their lush haven. Reflecting back to earlier that day, when she went to an unknown place… the campsite, right into this small ‘cave’ that Adora was sleeping in. But in the back of her mind echoed her mother’s words, stern and protective: “Do not venture out far, my cub. Stay close to our home.” Catra shuddered and flicked her tail, dispelling the thoughts like fog.

Catra changed her focus to the skies due to how beautiful it was, she decided to embrace her journey home but running, leaping, jumping, climbing toward her home. Catra’s heart raced as she manoeuvred through the dense, vibrant underbrush of the jungle, the air thick with the scents of damp earth and wildflowers. A cacophony of chirps, howls, and rustling leaves provided the soundtrack of her surroundings—an orchestra of life wrapping around her like a warm blanket.

As Catra is near her home, she could smell some flowers and even taste its sweetness, while her ears pick up some crickets and gentle breeze. The final step were the huge piles of fallen dead trees, however this is an entrance.  She squeezes through large foliage, twisted vines and fallen trees to reveal a secluded den. It looked like an ancient cave, inside the cave  is a huge space where it has many mosses, beneath foliage and random items that have caught the eyes of their residents.

As she walked through the entrance, the stones felt cool beneath her claws and feet. A tapping from above caught her attention. Just then, with a playful leap from the edge above, Kael, Ra’s son and Catra’s energetic brother, landed right on top of her.

“Hey! What are you doing, sneaking back in like that?” Kael teased, his bright yellow eyes sparkling with mischief.

They rolled in the lush mosses , blissfully wrestling and pouncing back and forth, feeding off each other's playful energy. But soon, Kael’s nose twitched, picking up on an unfamiliar scent wafting from Catra. He paused, his ears perked up with concern. “Wait! What’s that smell?”

Catra halted, her heart racing with a mixture of embarrassment and reluctance. “It’s nothing,” she replied defensively.

“That’s not nothing…it smells like like humans!” Kael’s voice grew louder, just as Ra entered the scene, the branches rustling in her powerful wake. The lynx mother paused, her eyes narrowing at the commotion.

“Catra! Kael! Why are you both fighting?” Ra roared, her tone firm yet loving.

Before Catra could answer, Kael interrupted, his voice booming in the calm of the jungle. “Catra was close to humans…..almost got herself caught by them!”

Ra’s gaze swung back to Catra. The air grew heavy with silence as she prowled around her daughter, the scent of gunpowder now unmistakable in the thick foliage. “Catra,” she said, her voice low, “why did you go near them and where??”

Catra’s heart sank as she recalled Adora and their hideout.  “I... I couldn’t find Adora….. So I followed her scent to this place with mini caves and bright hot things….. ,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I wanted to see if she was okay.”

Ra’s expression softened slightly, but her concern remained. “You went to their campsite.’. Ra paused before she continued. ‘Catra, I know you and your friend Adora have been enjoying each other's time. However, I just can’t believe you went there on your own.’ 

Kael huffed indignantly. “Catra, you could have gotten hurt or worse! What if they caught you? You’d never escape!”

Catra’s ears flattened against her head. “I wouldn’t get hurt! I wanted to help her in case she was hurt. I thought maybe if I could just see her—”

“You could have put yourself in danger instead,” Ra interrupted gently, her tones softening as she approached Catra, lowering her head to meet her gaze.

Catra felt the weight of worry overshadow her earlier thrill. “I’m sorry, Mother.’ 

Catra and Kael. Both had fallen into a stillness, their small bodies rising and falling rhythmically in the comforting rhythm of the statue. Yet, Ra could feel the tension in her own heart; she had been rather hard on them lately, especially on Catra.

Softly, Ra began to purr, a gentle rumble that vibrated through her chest and into the fur of her sleeping cubs. “The reason why I am hard on you, Catra,” she whispered, keeping her voice low so as not to wake Kael, “is so you can survive. Including you, Kael. I love you both.” She sighed, her golden eyes glancing toward the entrance of their cosy den, a humble abode formed of woven vines, soft moss, and the sturdy arms of ancient trees.

Ra began to wonder if perhaps she needed to adjust her approach. Catra was always curious about the world beyond their leafy sanctuary. Lately, she had spent much time with her friend Adora, a creature of different origins. Ra had noted that Catra’s unusual fascination with the other cub often led to the wild child exploring areas of the jungle that felt foreign to her. It made Ra's heart ache in ways she couldn’t fully articulate. Was it possible that her feral child carried a heritage of hybrid descent that she had never considered before? Thoughts swirled in Ra's mind like the fireflies that danced in the dusk.

With a sudden burst of energy, Ra stood up, startling her young cubs. Her long, elegant tail beckoned to them, the tips swaying invitingly as she led the way outside. The warm air was scented with the musk of damp earth and blooming flowers, a fragrant promise of adventure. As they settled in a cool patch of grass, their forms created silhouettes against the flickering lights of the fireflies—a celestial symphony of glow, like stars coming alive.

The night air hummed with soft sounds of life—crickets chirping, animals scurrying in the bushes, leaves rustling in the wind, as if the jungle itself were weaving a tapestry of harmony.

“Tonight feels special, doesn’t it?” Ra mused, her large, tufted ears pricked as she watched the stars twinkle like mischievous eyes overhead. The two cubs look up at the skies.

“Let me tell you a tale about a special night of my life,” Ra said softly, her voice a soothing melody against the backdrop of the wild. Catra's bright eyes sparkled with curiosity, her wildness barely contained as she leaned against Ra, the gentle strength of her mother grounding her. Kael, the young lynx, nuzzled against Catra, his eyes wide and innocent, capturing every word.

Ra took a deep breath, the memories rushing back in vibrant detail, as vivid as if they’d occurred just yesterday. “Many moons ago,” she began, her voice rich with emotion, “I roamed these very jungles alone, hunting for food and slipping through shadows like a whisper. Then, one fateful night, I stumbled upon a scene that would forever alter the course of my life.”

She paused, allowing the weight of her words to settle, a charged silence filling the air. “I found a tiny cub, a heart torn from the wild, wounded and trembling. She was all alone, nestled among the remnants of her mother’s warmth—a haunting reminder of life’s brutality. My heart shattered for that fragile creature, and in that instant, I knew I could not walk away.”

Catra's brow furrowed as she listened, her heart heavy with the thought. The jungle was her haven, a place where every rustle told a story, yet the notion of a vulnerable little one, abandoned and alone, felt like a distant nightmare. Ra had always been her mother, a gentle guide who illuminated the paths of the wild, and the thought of a life without her felt unbearable.

Ra's eyes sparkled with the light of countless shared moments as she continued, “That small cub… is you, Catra.” She turned, pressing her snout against Catra’s head, licking her affectionately. “You were so frail, yet fierce. You grew up alongside Kael, both of you as small cubs together. I fed you on milk and the softest bits of prey I could catch. Each day, you grew stronger, your spirit unyielding. Every leap you took, every rumble of your hungry belly was a testament to your remarkable will to survive.”

Kael, quietly absorbing this revelation, watched the exchange with wide eyes, the weight of Ra's words sinking in like the setting sun dipping behind the treetops.

Memories flitted like shadows through her mind: the warmth of Ra’s embrace, the laughter shared with her brother, Kael, as they chased insects through the tall grasses, the sweet, syrupy taste of wild berries stolen from the trees. But every time she reached for these recollections, they darted away, leaving her more perplexed than before.

“But… you’re my mother?” Catra whispered, her voice barely breaking the blanket of the humid air enveloping her.

Ra, a majestic lynx with a coat that mirrored the colours of the forest, looked down at her with tenderness. Her eyes, wise and deep, betrayed a profound sorrow beneath the calmness they usually portrayed. “Yes, I am,” she replied softly, “but you also have your original mother. She was caring to you till her last breath… she became one with the earth peacefully…”

Catra’s brow furrowed, her heart heavy with emotions she did not fully understand. Who was this other mother? Memories swirled and twisted in her mind, but clarity was elusive. It felt as if every word Ra spoke tangled around her heart, binding it tighter with confusion rather than providing answers.

Ra’s soft paws reached out to cradle Catra’s, her gentle grip a reminder of their bond. In a gesture of love, she leaned in and licked Catra’s cheek, her rasping tongue grounding Catra to the present. It was a ritual they shared, one that spoke volumes even in silence.

Ra gazed deeply into Catra’s eyes, her fierce expression softened by warmth. “My dear child, please remember this: a mother’s love knows no bounds, reaching beyond life and death. I may not have brought you into this world, you have always been my precious cub, and my heart will always shield you.”

Catra felt a swell of warmth course through her; Ra's words wrapped around her like a gentle vine, reassuring and strong. “I still see you as my mother,” she declared, the conflict within her easing as reassurance settled in its place.

“You are my daughter in every way that matters,” Ra said, her voice fierce with conviction.

Catra felt a swell of warmth. “But I still don’t know… What does it all mean for me, Ra?” Her voice trembled slightly, a leaf caught in a gentle breeze.

Ra moved closer, her emerald eyes shimmering with gentle wisdom. “I know this is a lot to take in, Catra,” she replied softly, her presence both grounding and invigorating. “As you grow, things will become clearer and sense will find its way.”

Meanwhile, Kael, Catra’s younger brother, sensed the emotional weight that hung in the air. With his innocence radiating like sunbeams at dawn, he wriggled closer to Catra, his blue eyes sparkling with admiration. “You’re the best sister ever, Catra!” he exclaimed, his voice a playful melody that burst through the tension like fireworks. “I will always got your back, whether it’s playing or protecting!”

A smile broke across Catra’s face, warmth spilling into her chest as she met the gaze of her brother. The heaviness began to lift, replaced by the familiar comfort of their bond. “I still beat you by jumping on you!” she teased, her playful laughter echoing in the night, light and bright like a shooting star streaking through a dark sky.

As they nestled together under the canopy of stars, the shadows of the jungle enveloping them, Ra wrapped her powerful forelegs around her children, a protective embrace beneath the watchful gaze of the stars.

Somewhere else, deep underground:

As the sun dipped below the horizon of the land above, casting its last rays into the underground kingdom of New Halfmoon, the world transformed into a realm of shimmering twilight.

In the softly glowing underground kingdom of New Halfmoon, where luminescent glow worms hung like chandeliers from the ceiling and sparkling streams meandered through the chambers, Queen Calliopra lay her daughter, Nala, down for bedtime. The air was filled with a gentle warmth, but inside Nala’s heart, there was a tempest of worry. She had pressed her tiny paws against her eyes, and her little nose quivered as she realised she wasn’t clutching her plushie pink lion.

Nala, a sprightly five-year-old with wide, curious eyes and a fluff of mixture of ginger-red and black fur, clutched at the blankets with a frown. Her tiny voice trembled. "Mama, where’s Clawdeen?"

Queen Calliopra’s expression softened, realising the little kitten’s distress. How could one so small be burdened with such fear? “Don’t worry, my darling. I’ll find her,” she spoke warmly, a bittersweet ache fluttered in her chest.

As she searched the cosy chamber, Queen Calliopra’s heart sank a little. She caught sight of the plushie lying forgotten on the cold stone floor, a longer journey than Nala realised. Standing so close to Clawdeen, with its tufted ears and soft, pink belly, drew her gaze deeper than the toy itself. The tears she had fought to hold back began to spill, falling upon the soft fur.

“Why do you cry, Mama?” Nala’s voice rang out with innocent urgency, drawing her back from the misty corridors of memory. “Clawdeen’s right here!”

Queen Calliopra blinked, quickly wiping her eyes. “Oh, my love,” she said, sitting beside her daughter, taking Clawdeen and pulling Nala into an embrace. The plush toy was returned to the little kitten’s arms, and Calliopra tucked her tightly beneath the silken covers.

“Do you want to hear a story?” she asked softly, determined to replace sorrow with warmth.

“Yes! Please!” Nala's face lit up. She sat up slightly in her bed, excitement glimmering in her eyes like the tiny crystals in the cavern's walls.

“Very well,” Calliopra began, her voice a delicate melody weaving through the air of Halfmoon. “Once upon a time, there was a brave kitten named C’yra…”

Nala listened with rapt attention as her mother spoke of her willowy sister, the first-born delight of two magicat queens. C’yra was a fearless adventurer, roaming the castle hallways and whispering secrets to passers-by before jumping on them, their glittering essence illuminating the world beneath the earth.

But as the tale unfolded, Queen Calliopra hesitated as the story took a bittersweet turn. Nala, ever the perceptive child, noticed the faltering note in her mother’s voice. “Mama,” she interjected, “you said C’yra is not here anymore. Where is she?”

Taking a deep breath, Queen Calliopra’s heart ached. “Yes, my sweet Nala. C’yra is among the stars now, shining so brightly in the night time sky. But here, in our underground kingdom, we can’t see the stars.”

Nala frowned, confusion bubbling to the surface. “But if C’yra is a star, how can she be ‘up there’ when we’re down here?”

Calliopra paused. How could she explain the distance between them, the reason why the kingdom was down here, yet all the while keep the magic alive?

“Perhaps,” she mused, “C’yra has found a way to peek back down at us during the day. She might be in the sunbeams that catch the dappled stones, or in the whispers of the wind as it brushes through our kingdom or even a tiny wiggling glow worm that lights up our kingdom at night.”

Nala’s eyes sparkled as she was being tickled by her mother when she mentioned the glow worms. Afterwards, Nala processed her mother’s words. “Maybe she’s playing with the crystals!”

“Yes, exactly!” Calliopra smiled, encouraged by her daughter’s innocent imagination. “And she may send us love in the morning's light, just like a warm hug encircling our hearts.”

Nala snuggled deeper under her blankets, clutching Clawdeen close. “Do you think she knows I’m here?”

“Every moment,” Calliopra replied, brushing her daughter’s fur. “She’s a part of you, and a part of me. She was our star long before you were born, lighting our way in this kingdom of magicats.”

Nala beamed, comforted and enthralled. “Will you tell me more stories about her?”

As Calliopra pulled her daughter closer, an idea bloomed in her heart—C’yra might be absent from their days, but her spirit lived on in the tales shared beneath the light of the Halfmoon. With each story, the lost sister remained present, etching memories that would dance in Nala’s mind like sparkles in the moonlight.

The next day:

The sun hung low on the horizon, casting a soft glow over the horde campsite nestled somewhere within the jungle. It was early morning, the air thick with the earthy aroma of damp wood and wet leaves. The sound of chirping birds was suddenly cut short by the blaring of the alarm horn—a screeching wail that echoed through the trees, rattling the very bones of anyone still asleep.

Inside the main tent, the air was filled with the warmth of slept bodies, laughter from last night’s stories still clinging to their dreams. Adora, a wiry seven-year-old with tousled blonde hair, stirred in her sleep, wrapped tightly in her blue blankets. She was surrounded by her friends: Kyle, Lonnie, Rogelio, and a handful of other young cadets. They had become a little family in this fierce world, united by their dreams of glory within the Horde.

🚨💥🚨💥🚨💥🚨💥🚨💥🚨💥🚨💥🚨💥🚨💥🚨💥🚨💥🚨💥🚨💥🚨💥🚨

But the sudden alarm jolted them awake, the sound clawing at the edges of Adora's mind. She sat up with wide, frightened eyes, glancing at the force captain, a looming figure who was already barking orders. “Get packed! We’re leaving for the Fright Zone at once!”

Adora’s heart raced like a wild animal in a cage. Panic set in as she realised that this was not just a drill; this was an emergency, and they weren’t prepared. As the tent began to shake with churned disruptions of panic and urgency, she felt the pull of memories—her wild friend Catra, feral and free, lurking in the shadows of the jungle. Adora's heart sank. She had promised Catra to stay hidden until two moons had passed, to say goodbye, but what if she tried to come here?

“Are we coming back?” Adora called out to a passing captain, her voice trembling with fear and urgency.

“Not until further notice, Cadet,” the captain replied curtly, brushing her off like a pest. “Now move it!”

A cold wave crashed over Adora as uncertainty gripped her tightly. As Rogelio tugged her toward the loading area, she felt like a lifeline was slipping away. A senseless part of her screamed that leaving without seeing Catra would be the biggest regret of her young life.

“Why the long face, Adora?” a fellow cadet asked, trying to lighten the mood. “At least we get to sleep on better beds back home! This is exciting!”

Exciting? The words felt hollow to Adora. She held her breath, the jungle around her spinning. Soon, she found herself shoved into a vehicle, the cacophony of voices screaming and shouting wide open, blending into an inescapable panic. She turned to her friends, her eyes darting from their faces as dread pooled in her stomach. It was too much, and before she knew it, everything became too overwhelming, too loud. The walls of the world closed in, locking her away in a cage of anxiety that she couldn’t escape.

A scream pierced the air, but it wasn’t from a distant jungle creature—it was hers.

“Adora! Adora!” Lonnie shouted, worry etched into her face as she tried to console her friend.

Adora gasped for air, her heart thudding in her chest like a savage beast. Everything blurred together in a whirlwind of too much noise, too many bodies, and too much fear. In her frenzy, she felt arms grasp at her and heard voices, but none could penetrate the whirlwind of emotions.

Suddenly, a force captain appeared, eyes sharp and focused. He knelt beside her, assessing the chaotic scene surrounding the trembling girl. Without hesitation, he rummaged through his medical bag, pulling out a needle with deft fingers.

“Stay calm, Cadet. This will help,” he instructed, his voice steady as a rock.

Lonnie held Adora’s head gently in her lap, whispering reassurances through soft shushing sounds. As the pang of the needle pricked her arm, the world began to fade at the edges, like a painting blurred by rain.

With a deep breath, Adora felt herself relax. Images flickered through her mind; the fierce but gentle eyes of Catra, the way they glinted under the moonlight, wild and untamed. As the world slipped away, her last thoughts were filled with the primal connection they shared, the semblance of freedom amidst the chaos of the horde.

“Catr-,” Adora murmured softly, as sleep claimed her, “aa…”

Later that morning:

In the heart of Brightmoon, where the sunlight poured through the stained glass windows, casting multicoloured patterns across the royal chamber, Queen Angella stirred reluctantly from her dreams. The scent of morning dew from the blooming gardens wafted through the open window, yet still, she resisted walking. Her sleep was deep and heavy, filled with fleeting images of peace amidst the turbulent clouds of discord looming over the kingdoms.

A firm knock echoed through the chamber, accompanied by a steady, resolute voice that pierced the haze of her dreams. “Your Majesty, it is time to rise.” It was her royal assistant, Mrs. Lily, and she continued with urgency, "The head guard of Brightmoon requests an audience; it seems quite important."

“It’s alright, Mrs. Lily. He may enter.”

Head Guard Alaric entered, flanked by a junior guard, a young female recruit whose expression was a mix of concern and urgency. Angella pushed herself up from her silken sheets, her brow furrowing as she sensed the palpable tension in the air. “What news weighs so heavily upon your shoulders?” she asked, her voice rough with sleep.

“Forgive the intrusion, Your Majesty,” Alaric replied, his gaze steady as ever. “We have received alarming tidings from the kingdom of Salineas. King Thorian has engaged the Horde at the border of the Fright Zone. His rash decision has led his forces into chaos, and the allied support from mercenaries across the lands has crumbled under pressure.”

Queen Angella’s heart sank, the spectre of dread flooding her senses. Salineas had always been a vital ally, with its strategic location serving as the first line of defence against the dark forces. “How did you come by this intelligence?” she asked, already knowing the implications of such a move.

“We received a scroll delivered by a weary courier. It contained a warning from an advisor within the king’s court,” Alaric reported, his tone taut. “The advisor claims he attempted to dissuade the king, but his voice was drowned in the fervour of battle fever. He urged us to prepare for the Horde’s retaliation, fearing our kingdoms will become their next target now that Salineas has wasted their resources.”

“Have the royal armies been informed?” Angella rose fully, wrapping herself in a robe, her mind racing with the potential fallout of this reckless act. “And what of our strategic positions? I do not want the remnants of Salineas’s forces to compromise our defences.”

“Your orders are clear, Your Majesty,” Alaric nodded. “I instructed my men to maintain readiness and to keep eyes trained upon the borders. We are prepared to respond should the Horde decide to regroup and strike at us.”

“Good,” she replied. Angella could feel the weight of responsibility heavy upon her shoulders. She knew that each decision made in these darkening times could mean salvation or ruin. “We must gather the council—call upon the leaders of the Alliance. They need to be alerted of this turn of events.”

As her assistants entered to help prepare her for the day, Queen Angella exchanged a solemn glance with Alaric. “This unplanned action by the king has created a divide. We may need to appeal to reason. There is a chance that if we act swiftly, we can prevent this from escalating further. I wish to avoid a war that could engulf all our kingdoms.”

“Understood, Your Majesty,” Alaric replied, his voice even. “However, we must also consider that the king of Salineas may not heed our calls for support. His pride could keep him blinded to the impending danger.”

“I will make no assumptions,” Angella stated firmly as she donned her crown. “The strength of the Alliance is forged in unity, not division. We will offer the king a chance to avert further disaster—even if it means sending a personal envoy to his court.”

Once dressed, Queen Angella descended from her chamber, her heart steadying with each step. The throne room awaited her, filled with loyal advisors, council members and community leaders. .

As she entered, her eyes scanned the assembly, quickly settling on familiar faces. But before she could address them, the junior guard, still standing to the side, gathered her courage and spoke up. “Your Majesty, there is one more matter of urgency.”

Angella turned, intrigued. “What is it?”

The young recruit took a breath. “We received reports from the Plumeria kingdom. A group of dark mages has been spotted leaving the Whispering Forest. Local villagers believe they were there for only a few days, they looked like they were in search of something. The leader of this group is said to be none other than Shadow Weaver.”

A murmur rippled through the gathered crowd, but Angella held her composure. Shadow Weaver was a name that sent shivers down the spines of even the bravest hearts. Known for her cunning and malevolent magic, the mere thought of her drawing near was unsettling. “Why would the mages risk venturing into the light of day?” she pondered aloud, “And what could they possibly be after?”

“Your Majesty,” Alaric interjected, “we are not sure if these two events are connected or if the Horde is indeed moving to capitalise on our weakened allies, the appearance of dark mages could signify something deeper. We must treat this intelligence with the utmost seriousness.”

Angella’s mind raced through the implications, “Gather the armies and spread out to seek more information immediately. We can’t do anything else until we have more information. Until then, put more soldiers on duty and be on standby, in case the horde does show up in the next couple of days.’ 

Chapter Text

Deep within the heart of the lush, tangled jungle, an electric anticipation crackled through the air like a storm waiting to break. Two medium-sized felines, elegant yet deadly in their design, surged through the dense undergrowth, a lethal symphony of sinew and skill. Each movement was a chilling ballet of predation, the rustle of their sleek bodies flaring through the foliage like a warning bell to the shivering creatures hiding nearby. They were the titans of this primal theatre, and every heartbeat echoed the brutal rewrite of life and death.

Kael, the first of the pair, boasted a coat kissed golden-brown by the relentless sun, a colour that dappled in the scattered light filtering through the verdant canopy. He moved like a lethal shadow, muscles coiled and rippling as he bounded effortlessly from moss-ridden boulder to boulder with a predatory grace that belied his strength. His gaze, fierce and unyielding, bore into the dense foliage ahead, fixated on the scent of deer musk, rich and intoxicating, prowled toward his nostrils, igniting a ravenous fire within him.

Following silently, Catra mimicked the deep shadows that cloaked her. Her sleek form melted into the surrounding branches, and with every low crouch, she embodied the covenant of life and death, forged by countless hunts. Adorned in streaks of patterned fur that wove across her limbs like nature’s battle armour, she waited with claws plunged into the forest floor, ready to slice through flesh and sinew.

As they closed in on a secluded glen, where a solitary pair of Roe deer grazed with deceptive tranquillity, the air grew thicker with uncertainty. Concealed behind a wall of Monstera leaves and creeping vines, their bodies camouflaged under a blanket of luminous greens, they drew nearer. Dappled sunlight pooled around them, casting shadows that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of the hunt, their breaths held tight in anticipation.

Kael, the strategist of the duo, inhaled slowly, his heart pounding a muted beat as he studied the oblivious deer. The doe perked her ears, a fleeting instinct warning her of the encroaching danger, but the protective foliage cloaked the predators in the veil of shadows. In that charged moment, Kael and Catra locked eyes; a silent pact of death exchanged between them.

With a burst of raw energy, Kael exploded from his hiding place; the forest floor barely murmured under his footfalls. Catra, a phantom at his side, pursued the glittering path laid before them, the air around them trembling with the ferocity of their charge. The deer’s instinct to flee ignited a frenzy; it darted, desperately vying against primal terror, but Kael’s powerful strides quickly reduced the distance between predator and prey.

Chaos erupted—branches splintered underfoot, leaves were shredded, and the pandemonium of nature swirled around them as prey and predator engaged in a macabre waltz. They surged over a glimmering stream, their paths catching the sunlight as they sliced through ripples of water, fleeting glimpses revealing their slick pelts stained with raw power. The deer, clouded by sheer fear, twisted and turned, eluding capture—at least for a heartbeat.

In that pivotal moment, when the air crackled with the tension of impending violence, Catra’s instincts flared, honed to a razor’s edge. Timing her leap with the chilling precision of a seasoned executioner, she veered left, a trickle of malice in her eyes as she forced the deer into a fatal miscalculation. Kael, coiled tight as a strike-ready viper, felt the surge of primal energy course through his veins. With a savage roar, he launched himself forward, his claws extending like daggers—sharp, unforgiving, and edged with intent. 

As he plummeted onto the unsuspecting creature, the impact was nothing short of a brutal symphony, a cacophony of crushing bones and tearing flesh slicing through the tranquil harmony of the jungle. The deer’s panicked cries were swallowed by a gurgle of life as Kael’s claws sank deep into its haunches, ripping with ferocious determination, drawing forth ribbons of crimson upon the earth below. In that instant, time seemed to freeze, the vibrant jungle silencing in a morbid stillness as life was dragged into a gory embrace—the serene veneer of nature shattered by the violence of survival.

In the dreadful quiet that enveloped them, Kael and Catra loomed over their bleeding quarry, their breath ragged yet imbued with an unfathomable calm indicative of their deadly triumph. Blood pooled beneath them in dark, glistening puddles, the coppery scent of life force mingling grotesquely with the intoxicating perfume of the jungle.

Hunched over their prize, Catra and Kael revelled in their recent conquest, their ravenous instincts driving them to devour the warm flesh before them. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood as they tore into the tender meat, relishing each bite as if it were a triumph beyond mere survival. Warm blood pooled beneath them, seeping into the earth, a stark reminder of their successful hunt. After they stepped away, plenty of meat clung to the carcass, a feast that would last them a while.

Catra, immersed in the glory of the moment, sported a wild display of gore—the remnants of their meal smeared across her face, torso, and forearms, the sticky bits clinging stubbornly to her fur. Kael was no less messy; his snout and mouth dripped with crimson, while his paws bore testament to their epic indulgence.

“That was an exhilarating hunt,” Catra exclaimed, pushing herself upright onto her hind legs, shaking off the mess with a flourish that sent droplets of blood splattering onto the grass. With deft precision, she sheathed her knife, returning it to the holder strapped to her back. The flecks of red remained, she wore them as badges of honour in their world.

Kael purred in contentment, his eyes sparkling with pride. “That deer didn’t know what hit it,” he teased, licking his lips clean as he stood proudly beside her, casting a glance back at the carcass that was a testament to their skill.

Catra’s playful grin widened, her ears flicking back in mock admonition. “True enough, but don’t let it go to your head. Remember last sun's hunt? Your excitement scared off that entire herd!”

He chuckled, shaking his head as if to dismiss her reminder. “That was just a slight hiccup. We still got dinner, didn’t we? And look at us now! You were no shadow yourself!” A mischievous glint danced in his eyes as he nudged her with his shoulder, making her sway slightly.

Rolling her eyes, she shot back, “Oh, please! I was perfectly stealthy. You’re just envious of my skills.”

Kael scoffed but then pointed at the pieces of meat she was stowing away in her pelt bag. “So, are you going to share any of that, or is it all for your little collection?”

Catra laughed, her tail flicking playfully. “Maybe I’ll keep it all to myself if you keep talking like that. After all, this is my haul. You’ve had your fill; you can’t have everything!”

“Come on, Catra!” He leaned in closer, his eyes widening in an exaggerated puppy-dog expression. “Sharing is caring, right?”

“Fine, but only because you’re my brother,” she retorted, her grin revealed her amusement. She tossed him a smaller piece of meat, which he caught mid-air, devouring it with a satisfied smile.

As she continued to pack away the leftovers, Catra glanced over her shoulder, taking in the serene beauty of their secret hunting ground. “You know,” she began, “Mother really knows what she’s doing. This is what we were born to do—hunt, feast, and thrive.”

Kael nodded, his demeanour shifting to one of relaxed contemplation. “Yeah… although Mother does worry about our hunts. Remember when you leaped from that high tree, only to miss that rabbit?”

Catra let out a hearty laugh, wiping a smear of blood from her cheek with a satisfied smirk. “Exactly! And we’re just getting warmed up, Kael. 

Catra and Kael finished their break before racing home, the thrill of the hunt lighting a fire in their hearts.

🌿🌲🌱🌿🌲🌱🌿🌲🌱🌿🌲🌱🌿🌲🌱

The emerald canopy of the jungle loomed ominously overhead, creating a kaleidoscope of shadows on the path the small group of cadets traversed. Every footstep they took was swallowed by the damp earth. The humid air clung to Adora like a second skin, heavy and suffocating, making each laboured breath feel thick and laboured. Sweat rolled down her temple, and she swiped it away, her thoughts flickering with memories of her friend Catra.
Deep in Adora’s thoughts, drifted back to Catra. She hasn't done so since years ago when she came back from her first trip here. She thought of her feral friend with a pang of longing, their unpredictable friendship now a painful memory. In the chaos of their abrupt separation, she hadn’t even been able to utter a proper goodbye. 
As the group moved deeper into the wilderness, nature sang a cacophonous symphony around them—leaves rustled as if whispering secrets, distant frogs croaked in a chorus, and unseen creatures rustled just out of sight. It was a vibrant world, alive and lethal; the tension crackling between the cadets felt as palpable as the humid air.
The older force captain who was leading them—a figure carved from rock, weathered and firm. His steel-blue eyes scanned the underbrush with a predator's intensity, betraying no emotion but caution. The other cadets shuffled behind him, their youthful bravado waning under the oppressive weight of the jungle's atmosphere.
"Cadets!" Like a twig cracking beneath her feet, the force captain's voice cut through her daydream. Adora returned her attention to him, her heart racing. ‘It's time to disperse into pairs and examine the traps. If there is something there, bring it back; ideally, there will be enough meat for everyone to have lunch.’ The force captain then sat down as he relaxed while he let the cadets do the task that was required.
Adora was partnered with Lonnie, a friend and fierce competitor, her high ponytail swinging as they stepped forward. “Let’s hope we find something good!” Lonnie jokes, but the tension in her voice was real, a nervous energy coursing through both of them. Adora’s gaze flickered to the dense undergrowth; it looked familiar, yet alien all at once.
Adora and Lonnie were getting farther away from the group when the jungle turned into a maze. The only sound in the clearing was the soft rustle of leaves, creating an unearthly silence.
Just then, a pitiful yowl echoed through the clearing—broken and raw. It sent a shiver down both Lonnie and Adora's spines. Lonnie, a silhouette of muscular bravado, signalled to Adora, motioning for her to stay behind while she crept towards the sound.

As the pair get closer to where the yowl is coming from, Adora could almost taste the earthy scent of damp soil mingling with blood. 

They peek through the large foliage, and then they see it—a lynx caught in one of their snares, thrashing and clawing to free itself. An image of raw terror, the animal's piercing gaze was a wild amalgamation of fury and desperation, its beautiful coat marred as crimson stained its fur—a tragic reminder of nature's brutal art.

Before they did anything, Lonnie signalled Adora with precise hand movements, a silent conversation they had perfected through years of practice. Adora nodded, understanding Lonnie’s choice to split their focus. Lonnie would move behind the thick foliage, closer to the lynx, while Adora would stay put and try to get the wild lynx’s attention.

Adora slowly took each hesitant step forward, propelled by an instinct to help, but the lynx thrashed violently, its claws slashing through the air towards her. The beast’s panic filled the clearing, creating a pulse of raw energy. Her pulse quickened in response, feeling the shared agony of the creature and the hopelessness that gripped her.

Lonnie was in position, as she held a horde issue tranquiliser gun, hidden behind layers of plants.

💥💥💥Swoooooosh💥💥💥

Dart noises echoed as Lonnie pulled the trigger. The sleeping dart flew through the air, a silent promise of peace. It struck true, embedding itself in the lynx’s back. Time slowed as the powerful animal froze mid-struggle, its muscles relaxing in an instant. The lynx’s fierce amber eyes fluttered and dimmed, surrendering to the heaviness of the tranquilliser, and it collapsed to the forest floor with a soft thud.

‘Good shot Lonnie.’ Adora sighs with relief. 

‘Yeah. I am a good shooter.’ Lonnie comments while coming out of the bushes as she wiped sweat off her forehead.  

“Now, let’s free it from—” Lonnie’s words stopped short as a sharp knife whizzed past her body, embedding itself in the nearby tree with a sickening thud. Adora barely had time to flinch; the blade embedded itself into the coarse bark of a nearby tree, its glinting edge slick with crimson.

Lonnie's instincts kicked in, and she immediately crouched lower, scanning the foliage. Adora followed suit, her heart racing as another sound interrupted the stillness—a faint rustle, as if something monstrous was slinking through the shadows surrounding them. With each second that passed, the jungle’s usual cacophony grew eerily muted, leaving only the sound of their breaths and the lynx's soft purrs.

“What the—?” Lonnie gasped, startled and defensive, while Adora remained focused on trying to pinpoint the enemy.

“Did you see where that came from?” Adora whispered, her voice barely piercing the heavy silence. She flicked her gaze to the tree where the knife had struck.

“No,” Lonnie said, her voice steely as she raised the tranquilliser gun, her finger poised on the trigger. “But whoever it is, they’re not friendly.”

Suddenly, the still air shattered as a figure exploded from the thick plants and bushes, a fleeting wisp of ferocity coated in a wild mane of fur and filth. Adora's heart dropped; the sight was both horrifying and mesmerising. The creature's slender, sinewy frame was poised on two legs, elongated arms outstretched and claws glistening with blood. One of its eye - piecing yellow - peeking through its wild mane, glimmered with a frenzied calculation, wild and untamed.

“Stay back!” Lonnie shouted.  Her gaze fixed on the mysterious creature before her. 

“Lonnie, help the lynx, I will hold it off!” Adora said with seriousness, a protective instinct surging through her, but her attention was caught by a primal growl that escaped this animal's lips as let her claws out before she ran toward her prey, and Adora raised her weapon; her pole, defining a boundary between defence and offence.

Like thunder, they collided, the force sending ripples through the air, disrupting the peace of the jungle. Adora swung her pole defensively, the sound of wood striking flesh echoing against the surrounding trees, but the being before her was unrelenting, a feral embodiment of nature's wrath. Each swipe of its claws glinted dangerously in the golden light that filtered through the canopy, the threat palpable as it lunged yet again.

Adora dodged swiftly, weaving through the onslaught, her mind racing. The creature dashed past her, snatching a gleaming knife embedded in a nearby tree—its edge sharp and menacing, a cruel smile carved from steel. Adora's heart raced. She parried with her own weapon, each movement growing more desperate, as a sense of familiarity stirred in her gut.

Then, it happened.

In the midst of their battle, the creature executed a movement Adora had once perfected, a rhythmic turn followed by a feint that had earned her begrudging respect from her peers in training. She’d taught it to no one but a girl, who she met here years ago. who had laughed beside her beneath the wide skies—Catra. The realisation hit her like a cold splash of water, freezing her in place, heart pounding with a cocktail of longing and disbelief.

“Catra?” Adora breathed out, her voice cutting through the cacophony, charged with emotion. The name slipped from her lips like a prayer. The creature still carried on running toward her, as the wind breeze through its face, it revealed two mixed match eyes. Finally confirming Adora’s suspicion.

In that haunting moment, Adora initiated a hold, managing to catch Catra in a position that rendered her at least temporarily subdued. Faces mere inches apart, the jungle fell silent, the wild itself pausing to witness this reunion shrouded in tension. Adora's hands trembled as they wrapped around Catra's wrist, the touch stirring memories that surged forth like a tide.

“Catra…” Adora whispered again, now pleading, looking deep into the depths of those fierce eyes she had once known so well, feeling the warmth that had still been there beneath the feral veneer. “It’s me. Adora.”

For a heartbeat, time stood still; the world beyond the clearing faded away as for a moment, recognition didn’t flickered across Catra’s face. Somewhere beneath the layers of rage and sorrow, the girl Adora had cherished all those years ago suddenly seemed to flicker to life. But just as quickly as it sparked, shadows clouded Catra's features, confusion warping into distrust, muscles taut and ready to spring.

“Y-oou……Ado-raa….left meee.’ she snarled, but the fire behind her words was subdued, an ember still clinging to the hope of connection.

"I know and its wasn’t my fault" Adora replied softly, a well of emotions swelling within her. Catra halted, eyes narrowing, confusion swirling within her. As she jumped back, remained still but in a defensive position. Her ears moved and her tail lashed as to demonstrate some sort of conflict. 

Their confrontation simmered to a tense stillness, time suspended. Lonnie, sensing the shifting atmosphere, looked to Adora, then made a snap decision. In a last-ditch effort to break the tension, she reached for a fist-sized stone and hurled it at the creature, hoping to distract it before it could make another attack.

“Hey! Over here!” Lonnie shouted before she hid from the creature. Catra’s piercing gaze snapped towards nothing, her eyes widening in grim realisation. Kael, now was released from the trap and started to wake up as his soft barks/meows could be heard to Catra sharp hearing.

Catra ignored these humans as she dashed toward her brother, muscular limbs propelling her away from the confrontation that had spiralled out of an innocent reunion and into something else.

“Catra, wait!” Adora called desperately, extending a hand in the chaotic moments that followed. “Please!” But Catra was already lost to the depth of the green scenery, the wildness of the jungle enveloping her. She grasped the lynx tightly, wielding the very ferocity that had kept her alive all these years, unaware of the heartbreak she left behind.

The silence that followed was deafening. Lonnie collapsed onto her backside, breathing heavily, the mantra of "the fuck" rolling off her tongue in disbelief. Adora could only stand rooted in place, staring into the void where Catra had vanished, the past crashing against the present like high tide against the shore.

“Adora,” Lonnie broke through the haze, a tone of uncertainty in her voice. “Are we supposed to follow the beast?” The term brushed against Adora's ears like thorns; she shook her head as if she could physically dislodge the hurtful word from her thoughts.

“Don’t call her a beast…” Adora’s voice trembled, quiet but firm. “But I… I don’t know.” The jungle seemed to press in on her, an expanse full of shadows and possibilities, but she felt paralyzed by the weight of everything left unsaid.

Lonnie approached cautiously. “Was that the friend you briefly mentioned before, years ago, but then tried to cover it as imaginary?” 

Adora’s eyes widened, a flicker of recognition passing between them like a jolt of electricity. “You remember?” she replied, her voice barely audible.

Her question hovered in the thick air between them, drizzling with understanding as Lonnie gestured with her finger to her lips, a symbol of their unspoken bond. This could remain merely between them, at least for now.

“Let’s get back to the others, before we get left behind,” Lonnie finally said, grounding the moment with her light-hearted spirit. She playfully nudged Adora, then tagged her side before taking off, running back toward the trail where their group awaited. Their laughter rang out.

The sky has changed as Catra moved stealthily through the tangled underbrush of the jungle, the faint rustle of leaves beneath her feet, drowned out by the wild beating of her heart. Her keen senses heightened by the memory of the trap she saw her brother was in. But now, the danger was behind her, and Kael was safe.

She tried to get him out of the man-made trap, until two young humans arrived. Catra went straight to fighting them to protect themselves. However, one actually assisted Kael while the other one, Catra fought. The conflicting part is she didn't realise that it was Adora she was fighting. Catra's mind went back to the current moment since she heard Kael’s soft meows, still laying slumped against her, the effects of the drug keeping him helpless. 

The den was a clearing, draped in soft green moss and surrounded by the sentinel trees of the jungle, each towering giant a witness of her solitary life. With gentle movements, she managed to arrive in their secluded home whilst holding Kael. She dropped Kael onto the soft moss that lined their den. It cradled him like a green pillow, and she exhaled a breath she didn’t realise she was holding.

Catra took a breath, her heart pounding not from the sprint through the dense thickets, but from the looming image of Adora etched in her mind. So many years had passed since they last played. She examined Kael closely, her heart leaping with relief as she noticed there were no visible wounds. A trap and that dart that had struck him, the mere thought making her blood boil with anger at the humans who made these things in the first place.

“C’mon, Kael, wake up,” she whispered, brushing her fingers through Kael’s fur, searching for reassurance that he would be okay. But the only answer was the steady rhythm of his breathing. It unnerved her; everything about this moment felt wrong—vulnerable.

Catra lay beside him, initially to oversee his recovery. What she didn’t realise is that sitting back would allow her own exhaustion to wash over her. Every muscle screamed for rest, but a knot of worry clenched in her stomach. Would Kael be scared to leave again? Would she have to face more human traps in the future? 

Feeling tension knotting in her stomach, she decided to take a moment to close her eyes and breathe in the earthy scent of the jungle. Maybe it would help the storms in her heart settle. But as her eyes fluttered shut, the world around her blurred, and she was swept away into something darker, a dream that felt less like an illusion and more like a summon.

As her exhaustion settled in, shadows crept into her consciousness. Catra was transported into a vivid vision. She found herself standing in a vast hall, two majestic figures were holding something, covered in white cloth. Their presences radiated warmth and love that enveloped her like a comforting blanket. They gazed at their baby with tender eyes before turning to her, their voices melding together in soothing tones that whispered of pride and familial bonds.

“C…..y’aaarrrrr” their voices distorted into one with urgency, their ethereal forms flickering like clouds moving with the sky. Before Catra hisses at where she was, the dream shifted abruptly, and a dark figure emerged, cloaked in shadows—a sinister mage, their face covered in red. Catra watched in horror as the mask figure unleashed its fury upon a castle, flames licking at its walls, consuming its beauty. The echoes of destruction reverberated through her soul, leaving her breathless..........

Suddenly, she felt a gentle nudge. Catra bolted upright, her heart racing as she nodded, the dream lingering at the edge of her mind like smoke. Catra was looking around as she repeated 'Kael…” Her voice trailed off as she instinctively looking for her brother until her mother concerned face was in front of her.

“Catra, are you alright?” she purrr, her voice cutting through the remnants of the dream turned nightmare.

'Its Kael... where is he?' Catra asked with worried.

Ra face was pointing to Catra 's answer. Catra followed her gaze. Kael as he was slowly rolling over as he stretched. Relief washed over Catra. 

“Kael is awake, he is just still recovering from the dart. What happened to both of you?”

Catra inhaled deeply, gathering her thoughts. “It was the humans! They set a trap and Kael accidentally went in it, and I had to try to help but two humans came and I defended us..” Her breath hitched at the mention of Adora. “But… Adora—she was there.”

Ra’s eyes softened at the mention of the name, sympathy dancing in her gaze. “Adora? You mean your small human friend from years ago who went missing, is that it?” The gentle probing warmed Catra, but it also twisted the knot of anxiety in her stomach.

“She left,” Catra whispered, defiance surfacing as she clenched her fists. “But I need to see if it’s really her. I ran off while she called out for me because I had to get Kael to safety.” Her voice trembled with urgency. “She may be someone else or…….she may be Adora!”

Nodding with concern, Ra lowered her head to Catra’s eye level, the elder lynx exuding a calming presence. “Catra, I trust you would be safe since we’ve been out exploring together  and you’ve learned so much about survival—like today. But tell me, what is your goal? Are you seeking only to say goodbye, knowing that you both live in different worlds? Or…” Ra paused, the flicker of understanding deepening. “Would you consider joining her? Your feelings seem entangled when it comes to Adora, my cub.”
Catra crawled closer to her mother, settling against her warm fur, seeking comfort. Her ears drooped as conflicting emotions battled within her. “I’m not sure… I hear tales from other creatures about leaving home to explore and find themselves, while others look for the simple life—finding their mate… I— Adora… she made me feel there’s something bigger out there,” she sighed, struggling to voice the whirlwind of thoughts.

Ra purred softly, her tongue sweeping gently over Catra's fur in a soothing gesture. “Catra, your adventurous spirit has always yearned for something greater than this life. I know that one day, both you and Kael will feel the call to explore beyond these rainforests. It’s the destiny of our kind. But never forget that you are unique—a blend of this world and the mysteries of your unknown lineage.”

Catra's heart raced at the mention of her heritage; it resonated deeply within her. She listened intently as Ra continued. “My concern, my dear kitten, is that perhaps the time isn’t right for you to seek out who you truly are. Finding others like you could lead to wonderful discoveries—but it might also unveil truths that could be difficult to bear.”
Catra averted her gaze to the ground, feeling the weight of her mother’s words. Then, a large, warm paw gently lifted her chin, guiding her mixed eyes to meet the tender gaze of Ra. “Know this, sweetheart: I will always be your anchor, your mother. Whatever path you choose, remember that this home will always be your refuge, just as it is for Kael.”

A wave of warmth surged within Catra as Ra’s wisdom echoed in her heart. She understood the truth in her mother’s words; the call for adventure resonated deeply within her soul. Adora had sparked a fire of ambition and longing—a desire to reclaim the once-bright bond they had shared, now dimmed by time and distance.

Catra nodded, the weight of her decision settling. She glanced towards her den, into the horizon, where the sun dipped low, casting a golden glow upon the landscape.
With a final nod to Ra, Catra slipped into the embrace of the jungle, seeking out the trail to her friend’s scent. The wilds stirred with her resolve, leaves whispering secrets as the sun dipped below the horizon. The plan is  she would find Adora, and in doing so, she would untangle the legacy of their broken bonds, and maybe… just maybe she will express to Adora that she wants to be by her side. 

Catra's heart raced as her hand and feet pounded against the forest floor, each stride resonant with purpose. The earthy scent of moss, damp soil, and ripe fruit filled her lungs as she pressed deeper into the jungle embrace. She could hear the distant call of creatures, the rustle of leaves above echoing the rhythm of her determination.

“He… Hel… Hey… Adoorra,” she croaked, the syllables escaping her lips like the flutter of a wounded bird. Each word felt foreign, rough and weathered. It had been so long since anyone had heard her voice—so long since she had dared to use it. In that moment, her throat felt like a rusty engine, grinding to a halt when it should have roared with life. 

The evening darkens contrast with the campsite's firepit flames rises high toward the night sky. The cacophony of the Horde cadets echoed through the jungle, a mixture of camaraderie and relief. They had survived another gruelling assessment, a rite of passage that pushed the boundaries of their physical and mental endurance. As they gathered around the crackling campfire, a seasoned instructor barked orders, her voice laced with competition, urging the cadets to recount their experiences in the jungle—a storytelling tradition that not only reinforced their bond but also served as a cautionary lesson for the next aspiring soldiers.

But as laughter erupted and stories flowed, swirling like the smoke from the fire, there was another presence in the clearing. Silent. Patient. The air, thick and damp, closed around her like a trap, compressing every sharp edge of her hidden form. Catra, a spectre of the jungle, had learned to move without sound, to meld into the foliage as if she were a ghost born of the wilderness itself. Her body blended seamlessly with the flora, tanned skin covered in a tapestry of mud and leaves, save for the occasional glimmer of light catching the dried blood splattered across her arms. Stillness enveloped her as she integrated with her environment, a living shadow among the foliage. A snake, curious and oblivious to her latent threat, slithered up her leg and coiled around her shoulder before taking refuge on a nearby branch. She didn’t flinch—she had become one with her stance.

Something about this place felt off—different from the wild rhythms of the jungle she knew. There were scents she didn’t recognize; wood and smoke mingled with something more unnatural, metallic and heavy.

She was equipped with a knife, her sole companion in a world that had shown her no mercy. She may have her natural weapons - her claws, however she came across this knife embedded in the ground years ago and it has assisted her as an additional weapon. The blade was small but deadly, kept neatly in its sheath by the pouch strapped to her back. Now, however, Catra's knife felt like a weight against her skin, as she had no intention of using it. It was reserved for the unknown threats that could happen in these human places.

She followed the scent trail to a cave (Squad tent), its entrance cloaked in shadows, but when she peeked inside, her heart sank. Adora wasn’t there. No familiar laugh, no water eyes. The emptiness gnawed at Catra’s spirit. She began to retreat when she spotted strange wooden boxes scattered in a haphazard manner, clinging to the ceiling of the cave like made-up stories waiting to be told. They stood out against the jagged stone, mystifying as she sneaked from one shadow to another, using her natural agility to her advantage.

Her movements were cautious, almost instinctive. She slid behind one of the wooden boxes, her breathing shallow. As she surveyed her surroundings, she noticed a waterfall? But it doesn’t look natural (a makeshift  shower) In another corner, a larger cave promised supplies, a communal living space teeming with scents of roast meat and smoke. Still, none of it brought her closer to Adora.

Just when she thought she could finally draw a breath, a sight seized her in a grip of icy horror. Before her hung the lifeless bodies of animals, grotesquely displayed like trophies of a gruesome conquest. Their vacant eyes seemed to gaze into an abyss of despair, spiralling her heart into a chasm of dread. This was no lush expanse of jungle she recognized; it was a human stronghold—a chilling arena of target practice pulsating with an alien culture that felt foreign and twisted.

Catra had always respected the natural order of life—she understood the wild's delicate balance, where survival intertwined with reverence for every creature that breathed. But what sprawled out before her defied all reason; it was an abhorrent spectacle of brutality that mocked the very essence of existence. Instincts roared within her, a primal urge to flee, to dissolve into the shadows, to become one with the earth that cradled her. She sensed the primal pulse of survival surging through her veins, urging her to escape this nightmare and back into the embrace of the wilderness she knew and loved.

There was no way that Adora would accept this. She wouldn’t. Or is this part of their world… Catra wonders, but she doesn't wonder for long.

Suddenly, footsteps shattered her reverie. A human with gears similar to her knife—strolled purposefully toward her hiding spot. A cold shiver ran down Catra’s spine, and she instinctively stifled a low growl in her throat. She pressed her back hard against the rough bark of a tree, wishing she could meld into the shadows. Her heart raced as he approached, oblivious to the feral creature lurking mere inches away.

“What are you doing back here?” another voice called out, breaking the tension like glass shattering. It was another human, his tone casual, amicable even. Catra seized the opportunity, her instincts kicking into high gear. She dove back into the shadows of the trees, she climbed up high as she could to hide herself but also still managed to get a view of the camp. Her heart pounding in her ears, leaving behind the horror that had nearly drawn blood from her mouth.

Once she rested on a huge branch, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. The horrifying images of slaughtered creatures mingled with the smells of smoke and charred flesh overwhelmed her senses. Catra’s claws grip deep into the tree bark while she doubled over behind herself, retching violently as waves of nausea washed over her. She was not part of this world. She belonged to something far wilder, untouched by the hands of man, and yet, here she was, thrust into their grotesque reality.

As she regained her composure, Catra forced herself to sit up, squaring her shoulders and stifling the fear. There had to be answers, and she would find them—from Adora, she would share what she knew of this world. Gathering her resolve, she steeled herself to navigate this terrifying landscape. Somewhere in her heart, she knew Adora was here. 

After a couple of breaths and grounding herself on why she was here, she gradually went back to her usual self, channelling the strength that Ra, her mother, had imparted in her over the years. Memories of lessons learned sparked the instincts within her, and she pushed down the remnants of fear that still clung to her.

Despite years of Ra taking her to human spots within the radius of the jungle, and at least one village, Catra still experienced anxiety when faced with their kind. They were strange, twisted beings, often unaware of the truths that filled the wilds around them. 

Catra decided to lay on the long solid branch as she watched these barbarians until she could spot Adora out. She settled onto the branch once more, her ears pricking at the sounds around her. Through the canopy, the noise became a fray of laughter, harsh voices, and unsettling cheer. What could they possibly find to celebrate in this maddening spree of violence?

Catra’s black ears picked up a deep and growling voice. As Catra pinpoints where it came from, she sees a massive beast of a man. Catra's eyes were blown as her fur on her skin sticks out, for some reason this unsettled her. Catra was confused if that was a huge beast that she hadn't seen before. The word Grrrizzzle-er was repeated, barking orders at his squad, failure was met with swift and brutal retribution. Under Grizzler's watchful gaze, hapless soldiers groaned and strained as they completed countless push-ups, their bodies aching with every movement. 

Another word which baffled Catra was ‘Otavvvvi-a’, a towering green hybrid with rippling muscles, deftly used her multiple limbs to replenish the dwindling fire pit with logs. 

The fire crackled, sending dancing shadows across the faces of the humans. Some of them were tall and imposing, others smaller and more agile, still huddled around the blazing fire. Catra’s heart pounded in her chest. Now, these humans, with their strange words and fascinating rituals, held her mesmerised.

Catra's head throbbed like a drum, the familiar ache pushing against the boundaries of her thoughts. She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to dispel the memories that crept at the edges of her mind. This wasn’t the first time; it wouldn’t be the last. Every so often, the ghost of her past returned, haunting her, but this time it felt different—sharper, more insistent. The pain faded, but the memory it unearthed remained vivid.

She was back in the wooded glen, sunlight filtering through the leaves as Adora’s voice echoed in the bright air. "'This area is not safe, Catra,'" she recalled her friend saying, the warning sharp and cutting. "'I don’t want them to discover you.'" A chill ran down her spine—a sense of foreboding that she fought to shake off.

Catra shook her head, dispelling the intrusive thoughts. she gripped the rough bark of the tree, her claws embedding deeply, effortlessly tearing at the wood. She turned her focus back to the camp ahead, her breathing deep and shaky. Adora was out there, somewhere among the chaos of cadets and laughter. The tendrils of worry coiling in Catra's stomach made her twitch her tail as she scanned the gathered crowd.

Catra’s sharp gaze fell upon a group of cadets at a table further from the main campfire. They sat around a pile of sticks, laughing and chatting with an ease that seemed foreign to her. Their conversations were punctuated with lively gestures and fits of laughter. But amidst it all, her focus narrowed when she saw Adora.

‘Adoraa’ Catra silently mouths out the syllables to herself.

The sight of her brought warmth to Catra’s chest—Adora, with her water eyes, was surrounded by a flock of human cubs or full humans? Yet, despite the joy radiating from them, there was an unmistakable shadow that clung to Adora, a hint of something that seemed amiss.

A young slim boy playfully nudged Adora, pulling Adora out of her thoughts,  sending her tumbling onto her back. Adora uttered a feigned cry of pain, her tone dripping with mockery. Suddenly, from the tree line, a dark figure emerged, moving with a ferocity that was almost primal.

From her concealed vantage point, Catra's instincts flared. To her feral mind, Adora's fall had been a cry for help. Leaping from the tree tops, she bounded onto the table, her mixed coloured eyes blazing with both fear and ferocity. Her appearance caused an uproar among the people sitting there as they all jumped off. 

Gasps and shrieked warnings erupted from the gathered cadets, echoing through the clearing like the rustling of startled birds. Luckily Lonnie was there to push back the cadet with the help of another. Lonnie needed to make it clear that Adora was holding it off until the rest of them get away, but in reality it was so Adora can get Catra to leave safely before the force captains got wind of this fast.

Adora, still regaining her composure from the fall, blinked away her surprise and focused on the source of the disturbance. When her eyes finally locked onto Catra’s, a gasp escaped her lips.

"Catra?" she stammered, disbelief flooding her expression. The realisation of where they were sunk in.

"Catra!" Adora called again, breaking through her friend's feral haze. "It's okay! They’re my friends from the Horde! I—" She hesitated, but the urgency of the moment propelled her forward. "I wasn’t sure if I would ever see you again since we never got to say goodbye at our hideout… I—"

The word hung heavily between them, an arrow piercing through the fragile space that separated them. Goodbye. The thought of Adora's world echoed in Catra's mind, and hearing that word now sent a sharp pang through her chest.

"You... le-ft," Catra growled, her voice low and dangerous.

Captain Octavia was alerted by the gasps and screams of the cadets nearby.

"What is this about a wild cat? How can a bunch of teen cadets not handle a small cat?" she jokingly said out loud, until her eyes fell on the creature; a long feral cat for sure that looked different to others she had seen, poised and growling in front of Adora.

"Oh fuck," she thought, suddenly alarmed. "I can’t let Shadow Weaver’s pupil get hurt on my watch." She swiftly brandished her baton, running up to intervene.

Now, Adora stood, her gaze unwavering as she tried to approach her old friend. But before she could even utter a word, a male cadet lunged forward and seized her by the arm.

"You forgot your training?! Get away from that feral!" he barked, mistaking the bond of friendship for danger.

Catra eye piece at her Adora being ‘taken away’, before she moved, her ears picked up the sound of approaching footsteps rumbled like thunder. 

"Get back, beast!" Octavia shouted, the command carrying across the camp like a whip crack. Her words stung more than any blade. Catra felt the urge to roar, a protest against the accusations thrown her way, but instead, she clung to the shadows, drawing closer to the confrontation. "Go back to the bushes; otherwise, I might just skin your fur and use it as my new fur blanket."

The taunt set Catra’s blood boiling. Her defiance surged within her, and the jungle's spirit pulsed through her veins. She lunged from her hiding place, dagger in hand, a blur of fur and fury aimed directly at Octavia. There was no time for hesitation; Adora was in danger. With a snarl, she hurled her knife at the captain, a desperate notice of her presence.

But Octavia anticipated the attack, grinning as she effortlessly deflected the blade, sending it spinning away into the darkness like a fallen star. “Haha, clearly you’re something more than a mere beast since you can handle a tiny knife,” Octavia taunted, the glee in her voice cutting deeper than any weapon. “But that ain’t shit as it can’t save you from the power of the horde.”

Catra's ears pinned back against her skull, her stance remained defensive, and her tail lashed furiously like a whip. She had no way to explain her intentions, only to protect Adora, the girl she believed to be injured. Who was pulled away, which made her more feral. 
 
What caught Catra's attention was the electrified baton in Octavia's hand. Catra's head hurt again, this time, triggering a deep-seated trauma. An anguished roar burst from her throat, more animal than human, and with it came a revelation that swept over her. Her instincts took over, and charged with lightning speed. 

Her razor-sharp claws extended, ready to attack. Octavia, ever the fighter, met Catra's assault head-on. Her baton deflected the feline's relentless attacks. And so fast, Octavia zap Catra, surprising the wild creature as this was the first exposure to this pain.

“Can’t handle a little shock, can you?” Octavia baited, her eyes glinting with cruel delight. “You’re just a kitten not knowing its place.  A mere beast—nothing more!”

Catra’s body curbed under the blow, but she leaped back, a predator refusing to yield. Hissing through grit teeth, she replied (to herself), “ ripp your face!” Again, she lunged, her claws cutting through the air with the speed of a striking serpent. Each attack was met with Octavia’s deflection. The battle echoed through the camp like drums. 

With reflexes that spoke to her feline nature, Catra darted forward, aiming for the vulnerable targets on Octavia’s body. But Octavia dropped low, attempting to trip her as she swung the baton upward. It was a move that would have ensnared most—yet Catra landed gracefully, twisting to avoid the trap, and retaliated with a fierce kick that sent Octavia stumbling.

‘hahahahahahaha’

Catra didn’t understand what the sound was. 

A grim smirk came out of Octavia as she unfurled her hidden limbs, each tipped with menacing, barbed metal that glinted like bloodied fangs in the moonlight. The air grew heavy with tension as Catra’s breath caught in her throat, aware that the stakes had escalated to a deadly brink.

“Didn’t see that coming, did you?” Octavia purred, her voice smooth yet dripping with malice as she whirled into motion, a lethal cyclone of strikes. Her newly revealed appendages sliced through the air, their razor edges hungry for flesh. Catra barely evaded the first swipe, feeling the searing bite of metal that grazed her cheek.

Catra snarled defiantly, fire igniting in her wild eyes. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she fainted to one side, claws bared, and lunged toward Octavia’s midsection with a primal roar.

But Octavia was waiting. With a flick of her wrist, she caught Catra's arm mid-lunge, her grip like iron. She brought the feral up in the air “A kitten has sharp claws, but even she can be tamed,” she hissed, revelling in the pain etched across Catra’s features.

Gritting her teeth, Catra wrestled her arm free, driving forward like a wild tempest. But Octavia spun with serpentine elegance, her metal limb slicing through the air. With a sickening thud, it tore across Catra’s shoulder, lower back, deep and unforgiving. Octavia throws Catra into the ground. Catra’s rugged pouch was dropped onto the cold ground.

Catra rolled away, her body slick with sweat and blood. She sprang to her feet. The flicker of surprise in Octavia’s eyes spurred her on, and she launched into a somersault, creating distance before reassessing her opponent. Each second of reprieve was a moment to gather the wrath boiling within her.

But the next attack came almost immediately, a vicious arc as Octavia aimed for her midsection. Catra leapt back, barely evading the deadly strike, her fur was the only casualty. As Octavia advanced, relentless and unyielding, Catra leapt with all her might, flipping and twisting through the air, narrowly escaping the next onslaught. She crouched low, using her agility to her advantage, and waited for the perfect moment.

Catra barely registered the existing pain, adrenaline crashing through her veins like wildfire. She dropped to all fours, the visceral instinct to survive kicking in. With each ragged breath, the realisation settled deep within her—this was a fight for her life. She was a predator cornered, and she would not go down without a fight. Not without her Adora. 

“Come on, beast! Is that all you’ve got?” Octavia jeered, thrusting the baton forward, aiming to intimidate with bursts of electric sparks.

Chaos reigned as most of the soldiers cheered from afar, and revealed the spectacle from a distance. Adora was held back by two cadets as commanded by Octavia before she went face to face with the creature. Force Captain Grizzler sat down whilst enjoying this unplanned entertainment. He didn’t care as he knew that Octavia was enjoying it rather than needing assistance. 

At one point, after enduring countless jolts from the taser and vicious slices from sharp blades, something primal ignited within Catra. A rage as black as a starless night enveloped her, blinding her to all but her bloodlust. With a feral scream, she leaped into the air, channelling a brutal horde combat move that left Octavia and the surrounding cadet momentarily paralyzed with shock as only they would know that, let alone a creature.Octavia barely had time to register the impending doom before she was sent crashing to the unforgiving earth, air exploding from her lungs with a sickening thud.

Catra's claws elongated, gleaming with a savage hunger as she descended like a predatory beast. In one brutal sweep, three razor-sharp tips raked across Octavia’s face, tearing flesh and rupturing vessels, blood spraying in hot arcs like crimson paint. One eye collapsed under the assault, leaving nothing but a shattered socket behind—a grotesque testament to Catra's wrath. She relished the scream that tore from Octavia's lips, a sound that resonates deep within her, echoing of victory and dominance.

But the taste of vengeance was intoxicating, and Catra craved more. More blood, more agony. Her gaze twisted toward the onlookers, a hungry predator scanning the herd for its next prey. It landed on one boy in particular, the very one who had wronged her friend. A sneer curled at the corners of her lips as she envisioned the chaos she could unleash upon him, the violence simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to erupt in a glorious frenzy of destruction.

Like a bloodthirsty beast, Catra launched herself toward her prey, while the other cadets scattered, fleeing from the impending fight. Grizzler retreated to his tent, intent on retrieving his deadliest weapon. Towering over the boy who had transgressed against her friend, Catra loomed, droplets of blood mingling with saliva as they dripped down onto him. But before she could tear into her new target, a sharp pain struck her back—a sharp rock hurled from the shadows.

Startled, Catra spun around, her senses heightened yet her vision clouded, unable to pinpoint the source of the attack.

In a sudden rush, Adora stepped between her and the boy, desperately trying to diffuse the situation. Brandishing a thick wooden stick she had found nearby, she attempted to intimidate Catra into retreating. This distraction bought enough time for Lonnie and Rogelio to drag the paralyzed Kyle away from the fray. Confusion flashed in Catra’s eyes as the fog in her mind started to lift; her thoughts raced, swirling with feelings of overwhelm and fear. She needed Adora, but the pain was overwhelming. Adora could sense that her friend required assistance to escape the escalating situation.

Sensing Catra's distress, Adora stepped closer, her voice steady.

“Catra, we can get through this together. I won’t leave again-.” she urged, her words filled with urgency. Until her steady voice was cut off by a loud noise....sound like a gun.

💥💥💥Bangggggg💥💥💥💥💥

Just as they began to make progress, a cowardly cadet—none other than Kyle—fired a weapon at Catra, inflicting a serious injury. The shot struck her collarbone just above the shoulder, sending a shockwave of pain coursing through her body and shattering the fragile trust Adora had worked tirelessly to build. In that moment of chaos, Kyle only intended to help Adora, seeking redemption for the time she had saved him from becoming beast food.

Startled and in excruciating agony, Catra instinctively lashed out, her reflexes a blur of desperation and fury. In her frantic attempt to retaliate, her claws sliced through the air, and in an instant, misfortune struck. Instead of Kyle, the razor-sharp tips of her claws found their mark on Adora, raking across from her pectoralis muscle, and up to her jaw, leaving a three jagged trail of crimson in their wake.

A piercing cry escaped Adora's lips, a mix of shock and anguish as she staggered backward, clutching her wound. Mirroring how Catra was a mere moment ago. The brutal betrayal echoed in the air, amplifying the confusion and chaos around them. Adora's heart sank as she realised what had transpired, the cruel twist of fate igniting a tempest of emotions within her.

But amid the turmoil, Adora found a spark of determination. She stood tall, locking eyes with Catra in an attempt to calm the situation. She understood that Catra’s actions were born not from malice but from a deep-seated misunderstanding. As the cadets erupted in cheers, oblivious to the true cost of Adora's heroism, an overwhelming sorrow washed over her.

Through tear-blurred eyes, Adora’s hand reached out to Catra, her voice a soft whisper. 'Hey,' she said, 'it's okay.'

Adora weakly keel on one leg as standing was getting too much. The shocked Catra stared at her, her limbs remaining on the ground, crouching on her knees. 

Adora hold her pain as she repeated to Catra, ‘Catra…it’s okay….you need to-’’

Horrified at what she had done, Catra fled, her heart heavy with guilt and despair. As the pain in her body subsided, a far greater ache enveloped Adora's soul. She had hurt her lost friend..............

........................she had hurt her Adora.

Chapter Text

Under the tapestry of stars, the jungle was alive with the soft rustling of leaves and the calls of nocturnal creatures. The air was thick with humidity, carrying the rich scent of damp earth and flowering plants, but for Catra, there was little comfort in its familiarity. The cold, grassy ground embraced her as she collapsed, to her forehands, exhaustion coursing through her with pain. Despair had settled around her like an unwelcome blanket, mixing with guilt until her heart felt like it might burst open.

Tears streamed down her dirt-streaked face as Catra's whirling thoughts finally culminated into a tidal wave of emotions she couldn’t comprehend. The echoes of the terrifying incident replayed in her mind—the fear, the shouts, the fighting, the escape—leaving her haunted and unsettled. The jungle's wild heart had always felt like home, but now it bore witness to her turmoil.

Guided by instinct, Catra pushed against the ground, trembling limbs barely able to support her as she stumbled deeper into the shadows of her jungle. The towering trees formed an oppressive canopy above her, their gnarled branches intertwining like fingers of ancient giants. It was here that she felt most herself, yet the terror lingered, whispering indecipherable words that fuelled her doubts.

Just as she approached near to her den, her vision blurred, and the world spun horrifyingly. The ground felt like it was rushing to meet her as darkness consumed her, stealing her breath.

Ra, an old lynx cat with wise, piercing eyes, sat with her son Kael, who had fully recovered from the dart incident. Moonlight filtered through the dense foliage, casting dappled shadows on their cosy den made of soft moss, sheltering leaves and dead wood. They had finished the last of the day’s meat, sharing quiet conversations that swayed between the mundane and what the jungle holds.

But a sudden rustle outside snapped their attention. Ra's ears pricked up, and Kael's eyes widened, instinctively tense. "What was that?" he whispered, readying himself. They were protective of their territory; threats had no place near their home.

Cautiously, they padded outside, joining the chorus of the night as they ventured into the darkness. It was then that they found her.

Lemmatical noises sounded like heartbeats, thrumming in sync with their rising panic as they approached Catra. She lay crumpled on the ground on her side, her wild mane dishevelled and her body marred with cuts and bruises, a dark maroon cross painted against her shoulder. Ra’s heart sank, dread creeping into her veins as she dropped to Catra’s back and gently nudged her.

“Catra, wake up,” Ra pleaded, her voice trembling. But her daughter remained unresponsive.

“Mom! She’s hurt!” Kael’s voice sliced through Ra's despair, his youthful panic palpable. “What happened? She—she smells like blood!”

Ra could smell it too, the metallic scent clung to the air like a terrible omen. Instinctively, she brushed a paw against Catra’s cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin. But warmth was a deceptive comfort.

“Help me bring her inside,” Kael suggested but she halted him with a hiss, a warning brimming with maternal urgency.

“No! She’s too injured, Kael. We can't risk moving her.” Facing her son, Ra felt the weight of a thousand worries pressing on her. 

Kael’s eyes darted around in fear. “What do we do? We need to help her! She can’t…” but his words faltered, the gravity of their situation pressing down on him like a rock.

The night enveloped them like a shroud. Ra’s gaze turned serious, a fierce blaze igniting in her hazel eyes. “The great apes know how to heal,” Ra said, her voice steady and commanding. “They possess knowledge of the forest. They would know how to help Catra.”

She inhaled deeply, steadying herself amid the rising tide of fear. “Catra’s body is anthropomorphic, and the great apes are the closest physique to hers. They are wise, they would know how to help Catra.’

Ra looks at Kael, before she puts her head onto his. ‘Kael, you can do this, find the great apes and bring their help. Don’t look back.”

Kael ran fast until his form became one with the dark forest floor.

🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌑🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿

The mother lynx laid by Catra, remaining close in case anything changes, her resolve unwavering. She decided to try to softly talk to her daughter, a way of comfort for herself. “You can get through this, my brave cub” she whispered, muzzling to Catra’s head. 

Ra could hear the ground stomping urgently and branches moving quickly in her direction. Ra’s eyes widened as the great apes emerged from the shadows, their massive silhouettes blocking the moonlight. The elder ape, with its impressive stature and venerable presence, stepped forward, surveying the scene with a piercing gaze that held both authority and compassion.

“Is this the one?” The elder ape’s voice rumbled across the clearing, cutting through the stillness as he crouched down to examine Catra’s unconscious form. Her tawny skin glistened with sweat, matted with dirt, dried blood and the scars of the recent fight, too fierce for one so young.

Kael nodded vigorously, desperation etched on his young face. 

The elder ape assesses her injuries with a keen eye. His finger brushing lightly over the wounds that pained her body. An intensity filled the air as the younger ape assisted moving to lift her, handling her as delicately as if she were a baby, to check for any more injuries.

Catra’s moan deepened into something akin to a sigh, as if she were drifting between worlds—the land of the living and the shadowy fog of unconsciousness. 

When Kael realised that Catra was in pain, he hissed at the apes for touching her. Ra gave him a paw strike before they reacted. The apes understood that the big cats were concerned but not angry. 

The elder ape spoke in a low, rumbling voice, “We will do all we can. You, young one,” he said, turning to Kael, “gather leaves from the moonflower, as that is one of the main herbs we need.’

Once informed about the appearance of this moonflower, Kael immediately embarks on the hunt.

The elder ape turned to his peer, ‘ we need to fetch water from the stream nearby. The herb paste must be prepared quickly.” His peer got up and went away.

To fill in the quiet air, while awaiting the important ingredients. The elder ape spoke to Ra.

“I see she’s of hybrid descent. Her body is like us but yet it’s similar to yours. She must be strong since you raised her.” Its voice low yet filled with an edge of awe as it observed Catra’s features. A wisdom resonated in its gaze that transcended species, an understanding of the ancient bond between predator and prey.

Ra replied, her voice a soft murmur that blended with the whispering leaves around them. "She carries the essence of both identities." she said, her hazel eyes reflecting the silver light of the half-moon above. "Catra has walked a path not meant for many, and it has shaped her in ways that are beyond our understanding."

Catra lay resting on a bed of grass, her breath slow and steady. Even now, the wild spirit inside her pulsed faintly, fighting against her injuries. Yet, the night's symphony was tainted by the soft, pained cries that escaped her lips. This made Ra bend down as she purrs near Catra’s chest. 

“Catra,” Ra murmured, barely above a whisper. “Listen to my purrs and breath.”

Catra’s eyelids fluttered at the sound of her mother’s voice. The soothing vibrations of Ra’s purr drew her back from pain from time to time. 

The elder ape nodded, his eyes widening slightly in respect. "The jungle can be cruel to those who don’t belong. Yet she embodies both ferocity and grace." He turned his gaze back to the dark foliage beyond, where Kael had disappeared. "Let’s hope your son returns swiftly," he added, "before the night grows too deep."

Just then, Kael burst into the clearing, panting yet triumphant, surrounded by a flurry of moonflower leaves. “Done!” he shouted, his excitement palpable even as his mouth overflowed with the gleaming herbs. He dropped to the ground beside the elder, breathless but purposeful. The water from the stream arrived moments later, brought by the other ape in a makeshift bowl, glistening in the moonlight.

The elder took the moonflower leaves into his rough, massive hands, examining them with expert eyes. “Good. Now, watch closely,” he instructed, as he began to crush the delicate leaves against the bark of a fallen tree, their fragrance sweet and potent. He mixed the crushed leaves with the water, stirring the concoction with nimble fingers. The air thickened with urgency and the scent of fresh greenery.

The air thickened with the scent of fresh greenery, enveloping them in nature’s embrace. As the elder added other herbs—each with a purpose rooted deep in the history of the land—the younger apes worked diligently. They cleaned Catra's wounds, pouring water gently over her skin, washing away the evidence of her struggle.

The elder began to chant, his voice deep and rhythmic, resonating through the very earth. The other apes moved like shadows, weaving leaves and paste into Catra's wounds, transforming pain into healing. As minutes stretched into timeless fragments under the watching moon, Catra remained unconscious, unaware of what was happening. 

Finally, as the last of the ritual was performed, the elder ape with a gentle, practised motion, cupped her head in his hands, his palms warm and comforting against her fur. With painstaking care, he poured water mixed with crushed berries—nature's vibrant remedy—into her mouth. The liquid glistened like liquid rubies, imbued with energy and life.

Catra swallowed reflexively, warmth spreading through her body as the concoction did its work. As the last drops disappeared, the elder ape leaned closer, whispering a blessing meant to weave strength into her spirit. 

With no small measure of caution, the apes (excluding elder ape), nodded to his companions. Together, they lifted Catra, their strong arms cradling her delicately, as if she were spun glass. Each movement was precise and gentle, a choreography born from countless hours spent amidst the wild—where life and death played a constant game.

“Careful,” whispered one of the younger apes, his voice a low croon. “She’s still fragile.”

Nearby, Kael, the lynx cat and Catra’s steadfast brother, remained vigilant. He brushed against Catra’s side, ensuring her comfort with the quiet strength that flowed from sibling kinship. His amber eyes flickered between Catra and the retreating forms of the apes as they bore her into the den.

“She’ll be unconscious for some time,” murmured the younger ape, glancing back at Kael. “Recovery may take seven moons. We will come by as needed.”

Kael nodded, the worry lines on his youthful face deepening.

Ra, watched the scene unfold with a heart full of gratitude and sorrow. Her coat shimmered under the moonlight, revealing a tapestry of soft browns and golden hues that blended perfectly with the underbrush. She approached the den, feeling the weight of the moment settle on her body.

“Thank you,” she breathed, her voice a mere caress of sound, barely louder than the whispers of the leaves around her.

The apes paused, turning their wise faces to Ra, they also told her the same as Kael. They had all shared in the rhythms of the jungle long enough to understand the fragility of life, how quickly it could twist from abundance to scarcity.

As Catra’s stillness enveloped the den. The moon’s soft glow painted everything in shades of silver—a guardian light that watched over them, as if nature itself conspired to bless Catra's recovery.

Couple of days later:

The air in the Black Garnet Chamber hung heavy with tension, a swirling blend of annoyance and a tinge of dread that enveloped Sorceress Shadow Weaver as she stood at the window. Her piercing gaze surveyed the mechanical monstrosities of the Fright Zone, where shadows danced like the chaotic thoughts stirring in her mind. The high walls adorned with dark banners felt like they could close in on her, yet the distant metal screams of the Horde's troops drained her anger, funnelling it entirely into her current companion.

Force Captain Octavia stood rigidly across from her, the echoes of a recent battle still seeping into her bearing. One eye, the left, was a swirling pool of colours filled with fear and uncertainty, while the other held a cold, calculated blue — a haunting token of her recent failure.

"I find it laughable that you lost a fight against an animal... even worse that you lost your eye. Your pride," Shadow Weaver hissed, each word deliberate, cutting through the silence like a cold blade.

Octavia clenched her fists, struggling to maintain a composure that was slowly eroding. "This mere beast... it wasn’t merely a beast, Shadow Weaver. Something about it was unnatural." Her voice trembled but bore a hint of respect as she recounted her disbelief. “It even threw a knife, let alone held it!”

"Enough!" Shadow Weaver thundered, her ire igniting an inferno in the room. "Be grateful you still have your position since Adora is still alive. Your punishment—one month in the kitchen, preparing meals for the recruits and all."

Octavia seethed inwardly, desperately trying to hide her humiliation. Yet, just as she gathered herself to leave, a thought slipped out, something she had been turning over in her mind since the battle had ended.

“It moves like a mix of human with cat… it has feline eyes… mixed colours.”

The sorceress paused, her brow furrowing deeply. A shadow of something darker passed across her features. “Wait. You said it’s feline…..and  mixed-coloured eyes.”

“Yes,” Octavia replied, turning back to meet Shadow Weaver's penetrating gaze, one now increasingly intense, like a predator closing in on its prey. “That’s why I—”

“Is it possible,” Shadow Weaver interrupted, her mind racing, piecing together fragments of a haunting past, “that this beast is connected to… them?”

Octavia straightened, puzzled. “Them? The Magicats of Halfmoon?”

A flicker of something dark stirred in Shadow Weaver. Memories she had tried to bury rose like spectres from a grave. The fierce battle, the desperate flight from that queen, the injuries sustained, and the bitter taste of defeat haunted her. She gripped her injured arm, once again restless.

“The kingdom was a powerful ally to Queen Angella’s alliance. Those creatures represented a poor excuse for beings we had invaded and destroyed years ago. You were probably very young when it happened, so you wouldn't remember it, but you must have seen the case studies of how we triumphed.”

Octavia nodded, her interest piqued as she awaited more.

“Thinking about it now,” Shadow Weaver's voice lowered, laced with an undercurrent of danger, “yes, the daughter—C’yra—the princess who should have been lost forever. Her essence… it could have intertwined with the runestones during the chaos of our invasion. What if that creature… it is not just an animal? What if it is a remnant of her?”

Octavia looked incredulous, her wit ensnared in a trap of history steeped in magic. “You think it could be a—”

“Enough!” Shadow Weaver snapped, but this time her fervour pulsed with a frenzied curiosity rather than mere anger. “We must ascertain its whereabouts. It could mean that I can get my hands on that half of the Tiger eye.”

“But it was injured…” Octavia interjected, her voice trembling with doubt. “It was bleeding, Shadow Weaver. It may be dead by now since we left the campsite a couple of days ago.”

Shadow Weaver's fury boiled, struggling against her own rationality. The Magicats were not ordinary creatures; their affinity with the runestone allowed them to heal, to thrive even amidst the gravest wounds. Yet the memories rose again, shackling her thoughts—a tangled knot of guilt and fury over the sorrow she had sown.

Slamming her fist against the obsidian table, Shadow Weaver conjured a bolt of lightning infused with dark energy from the Black Garnet. It illuminated the chamber with a crackling light, an embodiment of her fraying patience. “Clearly, this is just a beast. Nothing more. If rumours rise of a beast, shut that down. This brief chat about the Magicats and the possibility of the alive C’yra, forget that. Now leave, Force Captain Octavia.”

As Octavia strode toward the door, her thoughts tangled in confusion and relief.

The haunting echo of soldiers, chatters and metal scraping against metal resonated outside the medical room, a rhythm that mirrored Adora’s racing heart. 

Adora's eyes fluttered open, the soft hum of machines gradually pulling her from the darkness that had enveloped her since she had been here. She tried to sit up, but a jolt of pain radiated through her body, reminding her why she was here. She somehow had driven Catra away, her wild friend. The memory of their confrontation sent a shiver down her spine. Catra's feral instincts had taken over, and Adora's desperate attempts to calm her were fruitless.

Adora took a deep breath, swallowing hard against the nausea that rose like bile in her throat. The scent of antiseptic couldn’t mask the fear that permeated the air. It twisted in her gut, a quick reminder that every breath could come at the cost of her sanity. 

As she lay helpless, Adora reflected back at Catra. Adora had never fully understood Catra's ways of communicating, but she had always sensed her presence as a beacon of curiosity and mystery. 

Adora was drifting to sleep, her fingers gently traced the bandage that concealed her jaw wound. Vision of Catra flooded her mind. 

In the depths of her slumber, a dream carried Adora back to somewhere in a clearing. Catra was there, laying on her side among the grass, her eyes were closed. Adora approached cautiously, her heart pounding with a mix of longing and trepidation.

Chapter Text

The rich, earthy aroma of the great hall danced through the air, intertwining with the cool, smooth touch of limestone, crafting an atmosphere that was both intimate and electric. The soft flicker of candlelight played across the faces of those gathered, accentuating the intricate carvings and the powerful aura emanating from the two majestic statues of great cats that loomed in the front of the room. Their eyes, inlaid with shimmering gems, seemed to watch over the proceedings.

A unique tapestry of tradition and individuality unfolded within the hall. Some attendees donned ornate masks, their identities cloaked in mystery, while others chose to reveal their faces openly, a reflection of their personal beliefs. To the left sat the head of the high council, named Alexandra Claw, flanked by community leaders, their flowing robes whispering softly as they shifted in anticipation. Their eyes sparkled with determination as they prepared to address pressing issues affecting the magicat people.

In the centre, the royal advisors were still in their seats, one named Felinara Hefin while the other was unknown (As they are new into their position), their hearts heavy with the weight of the future. Every glance exchanged, spoke volumes of the challenges that loomed on the horizon—a storm brewing just beyond their control. 

At the far right of the grand hall, an air of anticipation hung thick as the kingdom's key pieces took their places: the head of Kingdom Affairs, the Chief Royal guard, and the illustrious head Sorcerer. Each figure commanded attention, drawing the gaze of all who dared enter. Sitting tall and poised was Artemis Shadowclaw, her slender frame radiating an aura of quiet confidence. Beside her towered Felis Corvax, a colossus clad in gleaming armour, his muscles rippling with power, and his fur bristling as he emanated an intense protective energy. At their side, a Sorcerer named Sylphid Prowlheart, she sat with an unassuming demeanour, but her potent magical abilities crackled just below the surface, ready to unleash chaos or calm with a mere thought.

Together, they formed an imposing trio, their silence echoing with unspoken determination as they surveyed the room, alert to every subtle shift in the atmosphere. In this moment, within this ancient hall, destinies would intertwine, and the fate of the kingdom would hang in the balance.

At the heart of this assembly was Queen Calliopra of Halfmoon, her regal presence commanding attention. She sat down with her striking In stark contrast, Queen Leona was absent, fully engaged in her royal duty of training new recruits—a testament to her unwavering commitment to her kingdom's strength. 

Queen Calliopra, with her striking yellow eyes and a mane that shimmered with  fire orange strands, surveyed the gathering with a calm countenance. The soft luminescence highlighted her regal features, casting her in an almost divine light. She nodded in acknowledgment of each individual present before her gaze focused on the recent developments that had stirred the kingdom.

“Esteemed council and leaders,” her voice, both soothing and commanding, echoed through the chamber, “We find ourselves at a crossroads. Seventeen years have passed since the Horde descended upon us, leaving devastation in their wake. But through tenacity and unity, we have rebuilt our kingdom, and the fruits of our labour are evident.’ Despite regaining their strength and fortitude, unease thrummed beneath the surface as they faced the monumental decision regarding their future.

A sharp intake of breath punctuated the silence. Councillor Orenelion, a proud elder of the council, leaned forward, his silvery mane shimmering under the soft glow. “Queen Calliopra, I must insist. We Magicats cannot remain hidden forever. What good is our sanctuary if we forsake our alliances?” His voice was urgent, echoing off the curved stone walls, trembling with conviction. “Our allies believe us to be extinct. Should they not know we still stand, so we may join them once more in the fight?”

His words struck a resonant chord within the chamber, but they were met by a murmur of dissent. Lady Felinara Hefin, an advisory figure known for her cautious approach, wrung her hands, her brow knitted with anxiety. “But revealing ourselves could invite the Horde back for another invasion!” She glanced around at her fellow council members, desperation flashing in her dark eyes. “We have built a fragile peace in this cavern that became our home. What if our choice disrupts everything?”

Sylphid Prowlheart, the head Sorcerer and the leader of the Runestone Guardians, rose from her seat. Her fiery mane, a magnificent cascade of orange and red, gleamed with determination. “Your Majesty, we stand at a critical juncture. The Tiger Eye has been our singular lifeline since the Horde attacked. We have made significant advancements in understanding the Runestone’s magic, but should we reveal ourselves, we risk not only our safety but the very essence of this power.

“If the Horde were to attack again, we would not only lose our magic but the soul of our kingdom.”

The weight of her words hung heavily in the air, silence replacing the previous fervour. Queen Calliopra lowered her gaze to her beloved council, measuring their resolve. They were passionate and dedicated, each one a guardian of their home—yet fear and ignorance could thwart their best intentions.

Orenelion the Sage stroked his beard, pondering over Sylphid's sober assessment. “True. If the Horde were to attack again, we would not only lose our magic but the soul of our kingdom,” he echoed profoundly, his voice soft yet commanding attention.

“The Horde still breeds and gathers strength,” Felis Corvax commented, “their latest technological advancements make them a greater threat than before..”

Artemis Shadowclaw, the Head of Kingdom Affairs, felt the weight of their conversation pressing on her. She had always believed in utilising every advantage their kingdom had. The trade routes dug into the surface world had borne unexpected fruit; generosity from their allies had brought more prosperity than they could have imagined. Standing, she adjusted her cloak of midnight blue that swirled around her like shadows, and addressed the council.

“But are we not already gaining strength? Our food sources have multiplied, and our trading with those surface dwellers, they see us as mere merchants, has created jobs and bolstered our economy. What harm lies in allowing them to remain unaware of our existence for a while longer?” Her voice was firm yet filled with the softness of caring for her people. “We can fortify our defences, draw upon the skills of our allies and prepare before revealing ourselves.

Let our magic and our prosperity become the light that guides them to us rather than fear. In our time, we shall learn more about our allies’ intentions, and amass a greater strength until we are ready to unveil our true selves.”

Her argument hung palpably in the charged atmosphere. The council seemed to shift, the seeds of her reasoning taking root in their minds, but scepticism laced through the room.

Just as voices began to rise in frustration, Felis Corvax shifted the subject with a firm clapping of his rough hands. “We should focus on the latest intel from our soldiers who pose as trader’s assistants. We must assess what is truly occurring beyond our borders.”

The murmurs subsided, replaced by curious anticipation. Calliopra leaned forward, eager for updates that could shed light on the current state of their allies.

Felis Corvax continued, “The Princess Alliance has launched a recent campaign to assist in rebuilding the ravaged villages along the coast, led by Princess Glimmer. Their resolve is commendable.” Hope glimmered at the mention of their distant allies. Queen Calliopra heart swell at the mentioned of Glimmer.

“Additionally,” he pressed on, “the sea grates of Salineas have been completely repaired since the Horde's last attack. Our friends in the North reclaim their strength.” The council nodded, some faces softening with pride at the resilience shown by their allies.

“But there’s more,” Felis Corvax cautioned, a hint of gravity entering his tone. “Some of our soldiers have finally made it to the Valley of the Lost in the Crimson Waste. They report that while the heroic tales of those who dared venture into the abyss are legendary, it is a treacherous place, rife with dark dealings. Local issues persist—hidden slavery trafficking has been uncovered and mercenaries are rising, waiting for the next opportunity to turn turmoil to profit.”

Calliopra nodded, listening to the points with a heavy heart. Secrets kept them safe, yes, but there was an ache in her chest -with nostalgia. She thought of the vibrant colours of the kingdom above. ‘What if one day, the kingdom above seeks our help? What would they think if they knew - What would Angella think if she had discovered her friend was alive this whole time? Could they accept the Magicats once more? Would they seek their aid if New Halfmoon gets attacked?

A clamour rose, voices clashing as disagreements filled the air.  In the ensuing discussion that swirled like the warm currents of the underground rivers, the guards and advisors played their roles like pieces on a chessboard, each manoeuvring for a standstill on the matter.

As deliberations ended, it was agreed that the spies—who had been sent to observe and gather information—would remain at their posts. The meeting drew to a close, the weight of their decision lingered in the air—a burden that would not be lifted until they determined a safe path forward.

The thick wooden doors of the chamber swung open, and Queen Calliopra emerged, the weight of her responsibilities momentarily lifting from her shoulders. The grand room buzzed with the energy of her councillors, yet her attention was immediately drawn to her daughter, Nala, who stood waiting just outside the meeting room.

"Mother!" Nala exclaimed, her bright eyes glimmering with enthusiasm. "How did the meeting go?"

Calliopra smiled, a warmth spreading through her. "As well as can be expected, my dear. But how are you? How far are you studying?"

"They're going splendidly!" Nala replied, her previous apprehensions fading away. "I've just finished a long and informative session on our kingdom’s history. I’m on a break now, actually. I was thinking of seeing mother at the Colosseum, I think she would be finished training the latest troops by the time I arrive.’

"Lovely, I feel that you are improving greatly. Leona would be pleased to see you, knowing how long she has been working today," Calliopra said, the corners of her lips lifting. It was a cherished routine her daughter seems to have. Would you like some company on your way?"

“Oh, would you? I would love that!” Nala beamed, purring could be heard as her heart swelling with pride at the prospect of walking beside her mother. Calliopra tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and nodded, linking her arm with Nala’s as they made their way through the bustling corridors of the palace.

As both the Queen of New Halfmoon and the Princess walked through the vibrant street, they ended up in the bustling marketplace, a group of local Magicats paused in their conversations, their eyes lighting up in recognition of their beloved queen and princess.

One young magicat, with bright green fur and eager eyes, called out, "Your Majesty! Princess Nala! Look, I made this for you!" He held up a tiny, intricately woven basket filled with colourful stones.

Calliopra smiled warmly and knelt to his level. "It’s beautiful, dear one! Thank you for sharing your talent with us."

The young magicat beamed, his chest puffed out with pride, as his friends clamoured around him. "Will you come to our festival this weekend? We’ve been practising our dances!"

Nala clapped her paws together in excitement. "Of course! We can’t wait to see you all perform! We’ll be cheering you on!"

As they moved deeper into the marketplace, an elderly magicat, her fur tinged with silver, approached them. She leaned heavily on her cane and smiled. "My queens, thank you for your kindness. The garden you sponsored this year has brought us all such joy. The flowers have never been more beautiful."

Calliopra nodded, touched by her words. "It’s the heart of our kingdom, and we want everyone to enjoy its beauty. It's a small gift for all you do for us."

From a nearby stall selling vibrant fruits, a vendor chimed in, "If it weren’t for you, we’d still be suffering from the aftermath of the invasion! Everyone here has a chance to thrive again. We owe it to your leadership!"

Nala's eyes sparkled with gratitude. "We are just part of a bigger family. Together, we will rebuild. Together, we will flourish."

As they continued on their path to the arena, the atmosphere felt charged with hope and resilience. A group of magicat children dashed by them, laughing and playing.

One of them shouted, "Princess Nala! Can you teach us magic tricks?"

Nala laughed, her heart lightning. "Of course! Meet me at the flower garden tomorrow afternoon, and we'll have a magic lesson!”

The crowd erupted in joyful chatter, their spirits lifting at the promise of a shared moment.

Calliopra exchanged a glance with Nala, a silent understanding passing between them. They might wear crowns, but it was the love and camaraderie of their people that truly made them royal.

At last, the royals arrived at the colossal structure of the arena, its towering arches reaching toward the ceiling like a promise of strength. Just then, Queen Leona went up to them, her presence radiating strength,  her serious demeanour softened as she looked upon her wife. With a swift motion, she pulled Calliopra into a warm embrace, a gentle kiss exchanged between them.

‘How was your day, my love.’ Calliopra asked her wife. Leona softly laughed as she expressed ‘It's alright, the new recruits need improvements and time to grow into our warriors as I managed to beat them all without a sweat.’ Leona turns to see her daughter. 

“Ah, but look at this! My beloved has found the most beautiful gem in the entire kingdom,” Leona teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she turned to Nala. “Watch out, little warrior! This time, I’ll be the commander, not your mother. No mercy during training!”

Nala rolled her eyes, feigning horror. “Don’t call me little warrior! Also, Do I have to? I already bask in the shadow of your greatness! What if I’m just… average?”

“Average?” Leona arched her brow, a chuckle escaping her lips. “Let’s be honest, Nala. You’re anything but average. But I won’t go easy on you, and that’s a promise.”

Nala cringed at the playful smirk Leona wore but couldn’t help but smile at the thought of their impending training sessions—the promise of challenge wrapped in love.

“Goodbye, Nala! Don’t keep your mother too worried while training with the royal guards!” Calliopra called after her as she and her wife walked away, their laughter echoing through the monument.

As Calliopra watched her wife and daughter stroll into the sunlight, a bittersweet warmth enveloped her heart. 

As she turned to leave, she caught a whiff of something familiar: a scent tinged with the earthy aroma of the underbelly and the unmistakable essence of magic woven through it. Curiosity drawn closer to unease like a moth to a flame, she approached a secluded alleyway, picking her way lightly along the cobblestones until the glow of sunlight was swallowed by stone.

“I noticed your scent. This was unscheduled,” she spoke, her tone betraying none of the alarm coursing within her. She felt the pulse of royal sovereignty emanate from her very being, compelling respect even in secrecy.

“I’m aware, Your Majesty,” a raspy voice replied. The figure stepped closer, they were cloaked in a dark hood that concealed not only their features but also their identity. “In normal cases, I would have waited to meet at our usual time, but I felt that I needed to see you. There’s something I’ve heard that may be of use—something your official spies haven’t picked up on.”

Somewhere the branches danced with the wind and sunlight slipped through the canopy like golden threads, were a feral hybrid whose existence was a tapestry woven with the strands of nature. She perched atop a sturdy branch of an ancient tree, its gnarled limbs providing shelter and sanctuary. Catra looked out over the lush expanse, but her gaze was not one of longing or curiosity—rather, it was a steadfast resolve to remain undisturbed.

Catra accepted her feral side and let it consume her completely in the years that followed the incident.

She let the jungle wrap her in its wild embrace, rejecting the allure of human emotions and desires. She doesn't know why, but she decided to keep her name, which grounded her. An unbreakable bond formed between her and the verdant ecosystem; she hunted, survived, and thrived. The calls of the jungle became her lullaby, soothing her to sleep while the moon cast silvery beams upon the earth. She became content with the simple life, revelling in the thrill of the hunt and the majesty of her surroundings.

Memories of a distant past teased at the fringes of her mind, fragments that shimmered like the sunlight through the leaves. And yet, each time she dared to explore those shadows of her identity, the pang of pain would echo in her head like the dull throb of a forgotten wound. Including a reminder of a name she had long buried—a name that reignited a longing so intense that she had forgotten both the name and the face associated with it.

Despite her resolve to reject memories of years ago, a familiar tug surged within her. It spoke of past curiosities—never-ending questions surrounding her origins and the world outside the jungle. But Catra, ever the feral, shook her head again, dismissing the thoughts like unwanted insects. Pain had become her armour, and she donned it proudly.

The vibrant call of toucans resonated through the trees like a jubilant announcement, their colourful beaks glinting in the sunlight. They flitted from branch to branch, interrupting the stillness of her mind. With a flick of her ears, Catra noticed them. Yielding to instinct, she descended from her perch, her lithe body gliding through the foliage until she landed on the forest floor with a soft thud, reverberating like a heartbeat in the quiet.

The ground was warm beneath her forepaws, she marked the tree as ‘hers’  tree as territory. She stalked through the ferns, the thrill of the hunt coursing through her veins. She observed the toucans, their frantic movement only encouraging her predator’s nature. However, they were Nature’s rhythms… too beautiful to just be taken for a meal. Catra decided to go toward the direction of a known stream - fish is her favourite. 

Brightmoon was abuzz with life, the sun casting golden rays upon the capital's impressive spires and vibrant gardens. Yet, within the heart of the castle, Queen Angella sat amidst a sea of royal reports and parchment, her head resting on her palm, brow furrowed with thoughts. The war against the Horde had weighed heavily on her for years, and at that moment, the words on the pages began to blur into a monotonous haze.

Deciding to abandon her desk and the burdens of governance for a while, Queen Angella rose from her elaborate throne, adorned with intricate carvings representing the rich history of her kingdom. She wandered the ornate halls of the castle, her footsteps echoing softly along the polished marble floors. Shelves lined with tomes and scrolls lined the way, their spines displaying tales of valour, wisdom, and distant lands.

As she strolled through the corridors, she found herself drawn to a particular gallery—the Hall of Alliances. The soft glow of sunlight filtered through stained-glass windows, illuminating the portraits of royals gone by. There hung the proud visages of those who had stood united against tyranny: Queen Leona of the Magicats, regal and fierce; Queen Calliopra, her eyes shimmering with wisdom; and the gentle face of her late husband, a peaceful presence captured in time.

Angella halted before the painting of Queen Leona, her heart fluttering with cherished memories of the past. Her thoughts drifted to the moment when they had united their kingdoms against the encroaching darkness. The alliance had been a beacon of hope, a promise of strength forged through friendship and shared dreams. But her heart sank as she remembered that a part of that alliance was now lost—C’yra, the young princess of Halfmoon, taken by the suspense of invasion, her fate a mystery enveloped in shadows.

“What would you both think of our struggle now?” Angella whispered to the portraits, her voice fragile. “If only we could have your guidance in these desperate times.”

With the Magicats gone including her close friends - the queens and their daughter, Angella felt a gnawing void in her heart. Yet, she drew strength from the allies she still had—her daughter, Glimmer, now a rising star and leader in the princess alliance, and Adora, a fierce champion who had once fought for the Horde but now stood resolute with them.

As her mind wandered, Angella recalled how they had found Adora—a broken spirit rising from the ashes of her past. The discovery of this "She-Ra" had changed everything; where despair once clouded their path, hope surged in its place. Together, they formed a bond that transcended scars and divisions, and Angella admired how she had helped Glimmer rally other princesses to their cause.

Yet, as the light flickered in the gallery, Angella couldn’t shake the image of what might have been. She envisioned a bright future with C’yra alongside them, wielding her magic as a fierce protector of their world. Together, they would achieve harmony and balance among the realms—if only they could reach C’yra before the darkness consumed her.

“Queen Leona, Queen Calliopra, Princess C'yra,” Angella sighed, “I will not let their legacy fade. For all that is good, I promise I will find a way for us to defeat Hordak.”

Taking a deep breath, a surge of determination coursed through her. The war had been brutal, testing every ounce of strength and resolve among allies. But here in Brightmoon, amidst the echoes of the past, Angella vowed that she would not rest until she has Hordak on his knees.

As she turned to leave the hall, her heart filled with hope, Angella spotted Glimmer approaching with a bright smile, the very embodiment of the promise that sprang from alliance and unity. “Mother, I’ve gathered everyone. We need to discuss what our next action is,” her daughter said, enthusiasm radiating from her.

Angella returned the smile, taking a moment to bask in the warmth of Glimmer’s spirit. “Yes, let’s gather them all—the princesses, Adora and Bow,” she replied, her voice regaining its strength.

Chapter Text

Somewhere hidden in the alleyway, the only light being from above, there were two figures. Calliopra’s eyes narrowed, intrigue curving her mouth into a thin line as she studied the hooded figure. A myriad of thoughts scuttled through her mind, tactical and strategic. The circumstances surrounding their clandestine meetings had grown increasingly precarious; the very act of seeking knowledge amidst the quiet underground burrows carried weighty implications.

The queen remained silent momentarily. The air thickened, coated with tensions as she flicked her tail—a silent signal of decision already made. Calliopra turned and strode purposefully toward the hidden meeting spot, the abandoned establishment, each step resonating with unyielding grace.

The light dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the crumbling rooftops of New Halfmoon. In one such shadow, a cloaked Magicat watched intently, their keen ears trained on the faint sounds of the world above. With a flick of their tail, they recognized the cue—a signal that beckoned them to follow.

Darting into motion, the cloak figure ascended the side of a dilapidated structure with incredible agility, their senses alert as they embraced the rooftop's welcoming embrace. The scent of old wood and forgotten secrets guided them as they moved toward the sanctuary—an unassuming room tucked away from prying eyes, where the hidden remnants of their culture lay unmoved.

The figure slipped inside, shutting the creaking door gingerly behind them. The moment they entered, their pulse quickened from the weight of what they bore: news that could alter the course of their people’s future.

Queen Calliopra’s regal posture radiated authority as she crossed her arms, her gaze steady as the mysterious cloak figure pulled back her hood, revealing a female magicat named Nyx. Her delicate features are framed by the shadows of the dimly lit room. The confidence of their past meetings settled between them like a soothing balm, yet tonight’s atmosphere crackled with urgency.

“What is it that made you come out of our usual routine?” Calliopra inquired, her voice steady but tinged with concern.

“After spending time in the Crimson Waste,” Nyx replied, summoning a shimmering ball of water that danced gracefully above her hand before she drank, allowing the droplets to vanish into the ether, “I decided to head back toward the east. I blended in with the locals, gaining intel on what has been happening above.”

Calliopra listened attentively as Nyx continued, her mind rapidly piecing together the implications of her informant’s journey.

“I’ve travelled through the borders of the Fright Zone and its towns, stayed there a few nights. I managed to stop off at Salinas Kingdom to stock up on supplies and then went up to Seaworthy, where my main contact is stationed. While I was there, they whispered. These were the same whispers I’ve heard from the previous places I mentioned, all in the span of more than a couple of years. It come and goes but it has become popular in the last couple of months.”

Calliopra leaned forward, her brow furrowing deeper. “This whispering—does it concern our people, Nyx?”

Nyx’s baffled expression momentarily shattered her usual impassivity. “Not our kingdom directly, but it implies a connection that we cannot ignore.” The words hung in the air, heavy as fog, as unspoken fears coiled like a viper in the pit of their stomachs.

“Then speak it,” Calliopra pressed, her voice low and dangerous. “These whispers… they are burdensome, and we have little time.”

Nyx took a steadying breath, the shadows around them seeming to close in tighter. “There’s a beast prowling the depths of the eastern jungles,” she continued, her features sharpening. “It moves like a cat but stands tall like a man, and its howls echo through the trees at night, sending shivers even through the bravest of souls. The last things anyone hears are its eyes—shimmering like water catching sunlight.”

Silence enveloped the pair, heavy as the shadows that lingered in the corners of the room. How many of her kind had been slaughtered or enslaved during the fervour of invasions? And the looming truth—the possibility of another magicat wandering the surface world, alone—sent a chilling wave through her. The thought of her child, presumed dead after the cataclysm all those years ago, rose within her, unbidden.

“Could this creature be one of our own?” Calliopra questioned, her voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s possible based on the description of how the beast moves,” Nyx admitted. “But I sensed something more…’  The last part of that word might imply it’s drawing strength from something deeper, something personal.

After a long moment, Calliopra has unearthed something that she hasn't brought up in her heart for some time. She met Nyx’s gaze. “You believe it could be……” Her voice faltered, the next word hanging in the air like a spectre.

Nyx's claws drummed a nervous rhythm against the weathered wooden table, each tap sending echoes of unease spiralling through the tension-laden air. She looked up, catching the queen's gaze, her heart tightening at the raw grief etched across the regal face—a grief that spoke of a past wound still festering beneath the surface. 

“The eyes, my queen,” Nyx began, her voice a mere whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the delicate hope woven into her words. “They match the description of your first daughter—the princess we lost. It could be a coincidence, or perhaps—”

Her sentence trailed off, the gravity of what she suggested hanging palpably between them. To voice the potential truth felt both audacious and cruel, as she were tampering with the very essence of a mother’s sorrow. Nyx hesitated, her own heart clenching with the silent acknowledgement of the queen's pain—a pain she dared not address outright.

“It could be a possibility,” she finally said, her tone gentle but resolute. “But we won’t know until I see it for myself.”

A silence enveloped them, thick with uncertainty and the weight of longing. 

“Nyx...” Calliopra’s voice softened, trembling with an emotion she struggled to conceal. “You must understand the implication of what you’re saying.”

Nyx looked up, meeting her queen’s gaze, the weight of the conversation heavy in the air. “I understand, my Queen. But shouldn’t such intel reach Queen Leona? She has a right to know.”

Calliopra regarded her for a long moment, her eyes reflecting a world of unspoken thoughts, before letting out a breath she had seemingly held since the conversation began. The air between them thickened with unvoiced tension. “Then it must be you who investigates this. You’ll seek it out alone, and I will not discuss this with Queen Leona. She has enough stress on her shoulders, and I refuse to raise her hopes when we have already moved on.”

The queen’s command was clear, and yet it carried an undertone of sorrow, a pain buried deep beneath layers of duty and love. Nyx felt the weight of her words settle on her heart, the gravity of the task ahead pressing down like an impending storm. “I understand, my Queen,” she replied softly.

Nyx's mind raced to the worst-case scenario. She asked the queen. ‘what if this is merely an animal? Or perhaps a more plausible possibility—another magicat who was displaced? Can something go wrong if your expectations are not met?’

“If it is not my child—” Calliopra began, but the realness of the statement made her falter. Instead, she leaned back, her eyes shimmering like dark pools. “Then, we should bring them home, teach them the way of being civilised in our society. They properly have family here that misses them.” Despite the heaviness in the queen's tone, Nyx could sense the flicker of hope that ignited within her—a fragile light amidst shadows of uncertainty. 

The conversation between the Magicat queen and her personal agent/ friend is close to an end. “You take care, Nyx,” Calliopra instructed, her regal poise returning, but Nyx could hear the quiver in the queen's voice. “Seek this creature, and should it connect to our painful past, remember the weight it carries. This is not just about uncovering a beast; it is about deciphering the fragments of my family lost.”

With a solemn nod, Nyx gathered her cloak, a protective veil she would wrap around her. They stood shoulder to shoulder for a sacred goodbye salute, a moment suspended in time, where years of burden and expectation intertwined in their silence

Nyx felt the weight of expectation bearing down on her. “I will make sure that whatever I find, you will know the truth—no matter how painful it may be.” Nyx then went out before the Queen, disappearing into the day. Both Magicats understood that the path ahead could lead to reunion or ruin.

Chapter Text

Catra’s subconscious conjured vivid images. One moment, she found herself in a bustling kingdom, surrounded by cheerful voices and laughter, red/ gold banners everywhere. But the next instant, she was transported to a tranquil clearing in a lush green space. Overwhelmed by the intensity of these visions, she felt a sharp pain in her head, and waves of nausea washed over her. Suddenly, a massive feline creature appeared—bigger than Ra, yet distinctly different. Its presence radiated a warmth that enveloped her like a comforting fire. With still, knowing eyes, it gazed at Catra. Catra felt a surge of intimidation in her weakened state. Shifting from her feline stance into an defensive pose, she instinctively leaped forward, attempting to assert her dominance. But as she pounced on the big feline creature, it vanished in a cloud of smoke.

Catra jolted awake, realising she had simply dozed off in the warm sun just outside her den. As Catra stretched out, she went into the den, to seek out her meat she had got from an earlier hunt that she kept as a snack. As she was on her last piece, With a mischievous flick of her tail, she tossed the meat high above her head. But a moment later, her eager nudge sent it rolling deeper into the shadows of the den. Instinctively, she chased after it, her heart racing with the thrill of the hunt, only to find herself distracted by an unusual scent vibrating in the air.

As Catra sniffed the ground, the familiar undertones of her own scent mingled with something else, something deeper, layered beneath decades of memories that felt both foreign and intimately known. She followed the scent, pinned to the earth, guiding her to a mound of dirt and debris. Her claws dug into the soft earth as she began excavating, revealing pieces of her past buried in the remnants.

As the feline’s anthropomorphic fingers glide over the luxurious fabric (its the royal robe cloak that she isn’t aware of) with a graceful elegance. The material is soft and sumptuous, much like the plushest velvet, inviting the touch with its silky sheen. The feline’s fingers—tapered and delicate, tipped with small, retractable claws—feel the intricate embroidery that adorns the cloak, each stitch a treasure of craftsmanship that contrasts with the smoothness of the fabric. This elegant display stands in stark contrast to the feline's own rough, dirtied claws, a reminder of its wild nature. Catra is confused by what this is, why it has her scent and - ..

Suddenly, the tranquillity shattered with an unexpected bark echoing through the den, jolting Catra from her reverie. The sound—strong yet familiar—brought immediate comfort. Ra was about to move closer when she realised Catra remained still. She looked with concern in her eyes. “I can see your tail swishing about. I’ve known since you were a cub that it’s a sign you’re upset,” she remarked, her voice smooth like honeyed rain.

Catra could only remain quiet, a silent witness to her own confusion as she held the exquisite item close, its edges tangled in her rough, dirtied claws. With each cautious move, Catra turns and crawls on her knees towards Ra, longing for clarity in the midst of the enigma.

“Why does it smell like me?” Catra finally broke her silence, her voice raw and trembling. “Why does it feel like…it’s a part of me?”

In a moment of recognition, Ra’s eyes widened as they settled on the cloak draped across Catra’s hands. “You found it,” she said, her voice a whisper of nostalgia. “That was what you were wrapped in, on the night I discovered you as a tiny cub in the jungle so many years ago.”

The words hung in the air, their weight heavy and comforting. Ra perched on the ground in the centre of their home, preparing for a needed conversation. The bond of love and challenge filled the space between them as Catra placed the cloak carefully upon the earthen floor between them, her heart racing in anticipation of unthreading the mysteries tangled in both their lives.

Ra’s gaze steady and warm, she sensed the potential for healing. “Catra,” she began, her voice a gentle rumble in the tropical backdrop, “it’s time to confront what you’ve left behind. This thing… it belongs to you.”

Catra hesitated, the cloak resting on the ground like a forgotten memory. It had been preserved since the day she first held it, tattered and weathered but rich with unspoken history. Her jagged heart raced as she recalled the fleeting moments of warmth and security, the gentle caress of a mother’s love buried beneath layers of hurt.

“What good will it do?” Catra’s voice was low, barbed with bitterness. “It’s just a reminder of what I don’t know.”

“Or a key to discovering who you are,” Ra encouraged, her eyes glinting with a mixture of challenge and tenderness. “You cannot deny the past, Catra. You must understand that it shapes you, but it does not define you.”

As silence enveloped the den, Catra’s instincts wrestled within her. She bent lower, fingers brushing against the tattered fabric—a connection to a past she had no memory of. But hidden beneath the frayed edges, something pulsed with life. She picked it up again, clutching it in her claws. The cloak felt familiar deep behind her head, a sensation that ignited the flicker of curiosity she thought she had buried.

"Catra," Ra's voice purred, smooth like the glide of a panther through the underbrush, "it has been seven years now, and yet you still cling to that cloak like a ghost of what was. You know we can never truly move forward while you hold onto the past."

Catra's claws dug into the fabric of the cloak, each thread a memory tinged with resentment—a friendship forged in innocent laughter, only to be shattered by that moment of betrayal. Adora had meant well, but the decision to trust another being, one outside the dense thickets of their jungle, had left Catra scarred. A human's malice had been sharper than any blade, and it had taken a piece of her soul that day, leaving her hollow and furious.

"I don't need to forget," Catra snapped, her voice low yet defiant, an ember of old hurt still flickering within her. "Why should I? Adora and her kind took everything from me. I won’t pretend it didn’t happen."

Ra stepped closer, her gaze steady and unyielding. "And yet, with every day you choose to harbour that hate, you only imprison yourself further. You are more than the child I found in the jungle, lost and alone. You are fierce and capable, forged from the fire of your pain. Embrace it, but do not let it define you."

Catra eyed the material thing in her claws. Reluctantly, she began to inspect it closely, feeling the texture against her skin. An old scent wafted through the air, like the comforting aroma of a warm hearth. What flashed before her was a figure—feline, with sun-kissed eyes that radiated warmth and laughter. Catra swallowed hard. No, not laughter. Love. A hollow ache twisted in her chest, once bright connections dulled by loss/confusion.

With a deep breath, she made a decision—for Ra’s sake. “Fine,” Catra muttered, allowing the cloak to drape over her shoulders. Almost instinctively, she wrapped it around her like the animal hide she had before, the edges pooling against her chest, to secure it. But as soon as she fastened it, she gasped.

A surge of energy coursed through her, as if the cloak awakened something deep within. In an instant, the material shifted around her body, contorting and transforming. It moulded itself against her back, transforming the edges into sprouting straps that hugged her form, becoming a practical bag. The magic of the mantle was real, vibrant, and alive.

“What—what just happened?” Catra’s voice trembled, disbelief cascading through her. Panic curled in her gut, an unsettling blend of exhilaration and fear. It felt painful yet healing, a ghost of something she could not grasp clawing at her insides.

Ra’s eyes widened in equal shock, a smile breaking across her face. “It’s knows you? Your unknown heritage is reaching out to you, Catra. You see? There is power in your past. This thing could be the first step toward that”

Catra blinked in wonder, feeling her heart race for reasons she could not yet define. She ran her fingers over the surface of the pouch now clinging to her, recognizing that it felt alive, both foreign and intimate. Every heartbeat resonated with the tingling thrum of potential, ancient ties whispering from the fabric.
“What does it mean?” Catra asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Vulnerability laced her words, her gaze dropping to the ground, her body language deflated as she leaned toward Ra for understanding.

Ra’s expression softened, warmth pooling in her eyes. “It means you have roots, Catra. Roots that could lead you to discover who you truly are. This thing—it’s a connection to your past, to those who came before you. It might help you to embrace your truth, no matter how painful it is.”
“I know you are against seeking out answers,” Ra began, her voice gentle but firm. “But I feel it is important. Whenever you're ready to explore your unknown identity, I will always support you.”

A moment of silence enveloped them, heavy yet warm. Catra clutched the strap over her chest tightly, before she sat close to Ra and they lay there for some time.
Catra still felt the weight of those words, yet her head throbbed with the enormity of it all. Catra got up, looking outside of the den. “I need some air. I will go on a stroll in the trees. I’ll be back before sundown, mum.”

“Okay,” Ra replied, her expression softening further, infused with the warmth of unconditional love. 

Before Catra could protest, Ra leaned in to lick her—a gesture of affection that made Catra wrinkle her nose in mild exasperation.

“Hey, I’m not a cub!” she protested, though her heart warmed at the gesture.

Ra chuckled, the sound sweet like honey. “You will always be my cub.”

With that, Catra bounded out of the den, her heart thumping, both the pains of her past and the allure of her identity tugging at her. She ventured into the lush embrace of the trees, each branch offering her refuge, each leaf whispering encouragement.

🌿🌲🌿🌿🌱🌿🌲🌲🌲🌱🌿🌿🌿🌿🌱

Catra stretched her long limbs as she clung to the branch high above the jungle floor. The vibrant green canopy enveloped her like a comforting shroud, and the warm sun filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows around her. Her sharp senses absorbed every sound, every whisper of the jungle life that thrummed beneath her. 
Deep in thought after her uneasy conversation with Ra, intertwined with memories both cherished and painful, Catra’s ears perked at the sudden shift in the jungle’s chorus. While the usual chatter of birds and rustling leaves continued, over it rang a desperate, high-pitched wailing—a sound that gnawed at her instincts. It was a cry tinged with panic, and it beckoned her ferocity.

With a final flick of her tail, she launched from her perch, embracing the thrill of the chase. She moved deftly through the trees, darting from branch to branch, her body an agile shadow against the deep green. The cries grew louder as she navigated the labyrinth of leaves and bark, each leap fuelling her urgency.

When she finally halted, crouching low on a thick branch overlooking the scene, a knot tightened in her gut. There, grouped by the front of a rugged vehicle, were four humans—strangers with intent in their eyes. One of them, a bearded man with broad shoulders, held a baby Macaque by its neck. The baby squirmed helplessly, its cries piercing through the jungle's natural symphony. Nearby, in a makeshift cage, its mother watched, stricken and frantic, the bars of her prison rendering her powerless.
Catra's heart sank. The jungle was alive with voices—calls of birds flitting through leaves, mating sounds of creatures hidden in the underbrush, the soft whimpers of newborns seeking comfort—but this high-pitched wailing was an urgency she couldn’t ignore. The humans gabled amongst themselves, dismissive of the fear radiating from both the captured baby and its mother. Instinctively, Catra’s ears flattened against her head, and her eyes narrowed. This was wrong—this invasion was an affront to the sacred balance she had sworn to protect.

Catra’s breath quickened as her mind raced. She had protected the jungle for years—rescuing young animals, guiding lost souls back to safety—but these humans were a threat to that fragile harmony. They were the ones she had vowed to keep at bay, the ones who brought destruction under the guise of curiosity. She could feel the heat of her rage building, but she also felt a flicker of responsibility—she had to act, not just for the macaques, but for the entire jungle she called home.

As the humans continued to joke among themselves, oblivious to the pain they were causing, Catra made her move. Silently, she slipped through the underbrush, her instincts guiding her closer to the caged mother. Confinement had taken the fight from her for far too long, but Catra was determined to change that.

Catra paused, just out of sight, her heart racing as she locked eyes with the creature in the cage. Panic flickered across the Macaque mother’s face, her back pressed tightly against the metal bars, fear coursing through her. Catra understood; she had seen the fire of rebellion snuffed out in the eyes of living beings before and she was determined this would not happen again.

With a careful tilt of her head, Catra mimicked the playful chattering of macaques, a sound that cut through the clamour of the humans. At first, the mother only blinked, confusion mingling with fear. But then her eyes widened, recognizing the call—a glimmer of hope igniting in the depth of her despair. Catra gestured toward the lock, her claws glistening in the soft sunlight as she assessed it. The humans remained lost in their revelry, their presence a blaring siren of annoyance in her instincts. She knew the lock was simple, a safety measure more for show than for actual security. It would require precision, and her window of opportunity was fast approaching.

The cage swung open with a groan, a moment that held its breath as the startled mother macaque hesitated, her instincts torn between fear and freedom. But Catra’s eyes gleamed with determination, and with a pointed directive, she indicated the trees above. “Go!” she seemed to say, not with words but through sheer will. Hunched back in the underbrush again, Catra considered her options. She’d witnessed many wrongs in the jungle—traps made for poaching, paths cut through the undergrowth—but never had she faced humans so brazenly stealing life for their amusement. Catra clenched her fists, feeling both the fire of her wrath and the cool wisdom of caution. She would not charge in blindly; the element of surprise was her ally.

With strategic precision, she extended her senses, listening closely to the humans’ chatter, gauging their distractions. The man with the baby macaque was focused on the cacophony, distracting his friends with tales of riches from their wretched capture. But Catra noticed something glimmering in the trees—a shadow in motion. It was the mother, her eyes locked onto Catra, still with a fierce plea for help. As if sensing solidarity, Catra nodded to the mother macaque and then shifted stealthily. She waited—timing her approach like a predator honing in on her prey. Heart pounding, she darted across the ground, merging into the thicket, her wild instincts thrumming beneath her skin. She was both predator and protector.

With a final deep breath, Catra sprang from her hiding place. Her muscles coiled with the tension of her pent-up energy, and she charged toward the group of humans, a blur of determination and instinct. The bearded man's head whipped around just in time to glimpse her movement, but it was far too late. Catra's swift claws cut through the air as she swiped at the man's hand. He yelped in surprise, and just like that, the baby macaque slipped free from his grasp.

In a fluid motion, Catra snatched up the tiny creature, her heart racing and her instincts kicking in. The baby, feeling the warmth of her fur against its back, calmed almost immediately. It nestled against her chest, instinctively knowing that Catra would protect it. But safety was merely an illusion, for the humans were now fully aware of them, and Catra's heart sank.

As much as she thrived on confrontation, her first priority was escape. The little creature squirmed slightly, its tiny heart beating in time with Catra's own adrenaline-fueled rhythm. Now, the risk felt palpable, and time was running out. Without a second thought, Catra dashed toward the cover of the bushes, her heart thumping in her chest like a war drum. She could feel the eyes of the humans on her, and the adrenaline surged through her as she veered toward a cluster of trees

“Go, go, go!” The bearded man shouted, his voice a grating bark that dug into Catra’s skin. One of the men slammed the door of the van shut before it roared to life, grinding gravel beneath its tires as it manoeuvred to give chase. Catra's instincts kicked fully into high gear. She had fought many battles, but this was not one she meant to win with her fists.

Behind her, the shouts of the humans echoed through the trees, the bearded man barking orders filled with rage and desperation. Their anger was palpable; losing two 'products' was more than a mere setback—it was a blow against their illicit business. Catra didn’t have time to dwell on their fury. From her periphery, she watched as two of them pulled out guns—metallic glimmers of terror that she could not afford to face today.

With a surge of determination, she veered left, diving through a thicket of bushes. The twigs snagged at her fur, but she didn’t dare slow down. She could hear the steady rumble of the van behind her, tires splashing through muddy puddles, but it was the screams of the humans that drove her onward. She had to get the baby macaque back to its mother—especially now that she had freed her from that cramped cage.

As she dashed through the underbrush, the sounds of a violently fast stream of water ahead grew louder, a chorus that was dangerous to cross, but it beckoned her. The river, with its frothy currents and glistening surface, would obscure her scent and offer her a chance at escape, as she is aware that there would be trees on the edge that would offer another escape route too. Catra quickened her pace, her legs moving almost subconsciously toward the sound, the baby macaque nestled tightly against her soft furry chest.

Eventually, Catra burst into a clearing where the river roared, white-capped waves crashing against the rocks. She skidded to a halt, still holding the baby macaque. The small creature looked up at her, wide-eyed. “It’s okay,” she softly whispered, looking down at the small monkey. “You’re safe.”

Catra’s eyes flicked toward the treetops, searching for any sign of the mother macaque. The adrenaline slowly began to ebb, allowing her to feel the damp chill of the air and the warmth of the sun filtering through the leaves. But even if she had temporarily evaded the humans, she couldn’t let her guard down. Their anger would fuel them, and they were relentless.

As she reassured the baby macaque, she heard a soft cooing sound—the kind of gentle croon that only a mother could make. Her heart leaped in her chest. “That’s her,” Catra softly says, glancing up at the canopy of leaves above her. “Your mother is here!”

With graceful movements, the mother macaque descended from the branches, her movements fluid and confident as she swung down a vine. The two macaques locked eyes, recognition sparking between them as the mother reached out. The baby macaque scampered toward its mother, climbing onto her back with unsteady, eager movements. The baby coos to Catra, before Catra coos right back. Catra smiled, relief washing over her. She hadn’t just fought for the sake of combat; she had fought for this connection, this reunion, a sacred bond between mother and child.

Catra observed the tender reunion with a mixture of envy and longing. As the macaque reached her baby, nuzzling it affectionately, Catra felt an undeniable connection. She had once been a part of a family—vulnerable, yet fiercely protective. But her thoughts were abruptly shattered. A sharp crack rang through the air, echoing against the trees and sending a jolt through her side, more like scraping her side.

Before she could react, the throbbing pain in her side pulled her focus. The shot had fired with merciless precision, and she staggered forward, instinct sharpening her instincts. "Run!" Catra hissed, the instinctual command carrying urgent weight. Without hesitation, the mother macaque scampered back up the vine, her young one clinging onto her back as they disappeared into the treetops—quick, agile, and free.

Despite the pain coursing through her body, Catra felt a flicker of satisfaction. The mother had heeded her warning, but the force of the bullet had sent her heart drumming loudly. Adrenaline surged as she turned to face the new threat, the humans who sought to take her life, their voices creeping through the foliage like creeping vines.

👤👤👤........👨🏻

The jungle fell eerily silent, but Catra felt the presence creeping closer. She whipped around, baring her teeth and growling low, a sound that reverberated through the underbrush. A group of individuals dressed in camouflage gear—some equipped with rifles and nets—stepped out from behind the trees and dense foliage. They stared at her with a mix of curiosity and malice.

“Look at that thing!” one of the poachers exclaimed, adjusting his grip on his rifle. “If I’m not mistaken, ain’t it that same creature in that rumour?”

“I don’t care for tales, as long as it’s a beast,” the leader named Ryder Darkwood,  shot back, narrowing his eyes at Catra’s body, half-hidden among the dirt and debris. His voice held a mix of unease and excitement, a strange thrill that surged through him at the thought of the bounty. 

“No Sir,” one of the men said, squinting through the creeping daylight. Before he continued, ‘Look at its eyes. That’s the creature from the rumour alright. They pay a fortune for creatures like her.” He licked his lips, greed shining in his gaze.

“Yeah, a real beauty,” another chimed in, peering through his glasses, like an eager child glimpsing a prize.

👁️👄👁️ Catra couldn’t decipher their words, but their unsettling gaze sent a shiver down her spine. Transitioning from a crouch, she dropped onto all fours, her claws sinking into the earth as she narrowed her slit-like irises, honing in on the human predators surrounding her.

“Look at those muscles, it's physique. Someone out there would want a pretty lap cat.” Laughter filled the air, brittle and hollow, blending with the jungle sounds.

“Bring her to me, I want to get a closer look,” the leader said, a rugged man with a face weathered by the sun and too many hard decisions. He pointed, beckoning his team forward. “Soon, we’ll be rich!” 

The leader’s voice drummed in her ears, mixing with the rustle of leaves and the distant growls of the jungle. She growled louder, feeling the weight of the humans pressing against her; these weren’t just hunters but predators in their own right, and they were a threat that sent white-hot fear jolting through her. Catra’s heart raced as they slowly approached her. She couldn’t back toward the edge anymore. Her instincts scream at her to attack rather than flee. These humans are asking for it. 

"You think you can take all of us?" he taunted, but she would not allow fear to cloud her senses. Whatever it took, she refused to be a victim.

With a feral growl, she leaped,  vaulting toward them. The surprise on their faces was palpable, a moment of hesitation that she seized. Catra swiped her claws at the nearest man, before kicking another away, sending him crashing into the group.

They stumbled, shock flickering in their eyes, but one tall human, his fingers twitching against the sleek grip of a weapon, managed to raise his gun. Catra's instincts kicked in, and she lunged, knocking the wind out of him as she landed on his torso. Gritting her teeth, she turned her glare toward the alpha: the bearded leader, his smile only widening at the chaos.

“Your instincts are sharp, bitch, but did you think you had us cornered?” His voice boomed, echoing in the clearing.

Catra’s focus sharpened onto the Alpha, surveying the chaos with an unsettling calm. His smile twisted into something sinister, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. Deep down, she knew he was trouble—the architect behind the trap she now found herself in.

But just as she prepared to finish what she had started, an unexpected sensation engulfed her. Suddenly, Catra heard it—a soft rustle followed by a sharp snap. A tightening coil constricted around her limbs, firm yet strangling, as if the jungle itself had betrayed her. Catra twisted, panic seizing her as she felt the weight of whatever had ensnared her. Her senses screamed; she was no longer in control.

"Did you really think you could escape?" the Alpha taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. "You didn’t even notice my friend, did you?"

The creature's eyes were a captivating blend of venom and malice, glimmering with a twisted intelligence as it assessed her languishing spirit. In that horrible moment, Catra felt the rage wash over her, a primal fury igniting her instincts to fight. This monster was a reflection of her own wild essence—untamed, volatile, yet cruelly ensnared by the vile puppeteers of humanity.

As she strained against its constricting coils, the creature sunk its fangs deep into her exposed neck, and a scream tore from her throat. Pain cascaded through her, a viscous wave of fury washing over her senses as the hot bite of venom coursed through her veins. The hybrid released her at its master’s command, but not before leaving a gruesome mark—a reminder that she was far from the apex predator this grotesque being embodied.

Her vision blurred, the weight of her rage mixing intoxicatingly with the venom coursing through her. The humans surrounding her had begun to recover, each one fixing their eyes on her with a hungry anticipation, as she were a prized catch in their twisted game. Their leader—a brutish male with a sadistic glint in his eye—stepped forward, a sly grin spreading across his face. “You liked the venom, didn’t you, Soon it will paralyse you, and then the real fun begins.”

The leader prowled toward Catra like a wolf closing in on its prey, each step slow and deliberate, dripping with sadistic delight. He crouched before her, their eyes locking in a fierce standoff, a malevolent grin stretching across his face, revealing teeth that were more predatory than humane. “You’re a captivating little beauty,” he hissed, sinking his fingers into her chin with enough force to draw a pained wince from her lips. “But I’ve never tasted defeat, and I won’t be brought low by the likes of you.”

With a dismissive flick of his wrist, he called over his grotesque companion. "Serpentis, is she just a creature, or is she more of a hybrid like you?"

The atmosphere thickened, electric and charged, the silence interrupted only by the sinuous, venomous voice that coiled from the shadows. 

“Ah, but the truth, dear master,” Serpentis hissed, each syllable draped in malevolence, “is that she’s a feline hybrid. Her instincts are a precious rarity, especially encased in that fragile female form.” The smile that curled his serpent-like lips was anything but warm. “Once broken, she will command a handsome price.”

Fuelled by fury, Catra’s lips twisted into a feral snarl, her spirit aflame despite the crushing weight of humiliation. She wrestled against his iron grip, each second igniting a wildfire of rage within her veins. “Go ahead,” taunted Ryder Darkwood, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Struggle all you want. Look at you—so helpless. Just give up already.”

Pain coursed through her, building like a tempest in her chest, threatening to rip her apart. Her heart thundered, each beat a defiant reminder: surrender was not an option—not to these monsters who reveled in her suffering, nor to their twisted games.

Suddenly, fuelled by an untameable spirit, Catra unleashed her pent-up fury. With a primal roar, she kicked out her leg, the force of her boot crashing violently into the leader’s chest. The impact sent him stumbling back, the vicious glee draining from his face and replaced by a flash of shock and rage. Afterwards, Catra’s legs quaked beneath her, exhaustion crashing over her. 

“Got her!” a voice rang out, brimming with youthful arrogance. It belonged to one of the junior poachers who threw a net over Catra—a young man with wild eyes that sparkled with brash excitement. In his spirit lingered the thrill of the chase, an intoxicating cocktail of ignorance and bravado.

Before she could fully process his victory, Catra’s world tilted. The ground disappeared beneath her, and she tumbled backward into the cool embrace of the water below. The sudden plunge into that realm was both a shock and a revelation. She gasped, instinctively trying to fill her lungs with air, but the net didn't help.

“Quick! After her!” the leader barked, cursing as he watched his prize slip away, the shimmering eyes now just a memory. 

With a final surge of strength, Catra braced herself for the plunge into the abyss, the last echoes of the poachers’ voices fading under the roar of the water. 

Chapter Text

The jungle breathed around me, a rich tapestry woven from sun-dappled leaves and the gentle rustle of unseen creatures. I perched at the edge of a thick branch of a towering kapok tree, the gnarled roots twisting down to the rich, damp soil of the jungle floor below. Cloaked in shadows, my mask and dark cloak blended into the green tapestry around me, rendering me nearly invisible among the leaves and vines. My heart raced beneath the layers of my mask and cloak, the weight of my duty to Queen Calliopra pressing heavily on my shoulders. I was on the hunt for a truth long forgotten, an animal hiding in this wild domain, said it’s body is of a hybrid. This ‘animal’ is either one of their own or something much deeper, the long-lost princess to the Queens of Halfmoon. I had to see it for myself.

The sun hung high in the sky, casting dappled patterns across the jungle floor.. My senses were heightened, each rustle of leaves and distant animal call echoing in my tall ears. As I padded through the vibrant foliage with practised silence, I traced the narrow foot prints that had claws deep in the damp earth—each stride bringing me closer to a discovery that could change everything. M y ears, sharp as the dagger hidden beneath my cloak, strained to catch the faintest sounds, it was an unexpected squeeze of chaos that caught my attention. The distant uproar—laughter punctuated by guttural remarks—pierced through the jungle’s tranquil atmosphere. Instinct kicked in, and I ascended the sturdy trunk of an ancient tree, shrouding myself in the network of branches above.

Six senses sharpened, I padded stealthily towards the sound, my instincts guiding me to a hefty tree that stood sentinel over the commotion. Silent as a whisper, I nestled among the branches, cloaked in shadow, to observe. My heart racing with curiosity and caution. Peering through the leaves, I spotted a rugged vehicle parked with four humans clustered around, their presence a blight on the tranquil sanctuary of the jungle. One held a baby Pig-Tailed Macaque, while its mother hung helplessly in a cage, her cries a haunting echo in the growing twilight.

Through the foliage, the scene unfolded like an annoyance. Four humans, rough in appearance and armed with thick ropes and cages, were gathered around a rugged vehicle. Laughter echoed amidst the trees, a jarring contrast to the wilderness that surrounded them. My heart sank as I spotted what they were hauling—a baby Pig-Tailed Macaque held captive in a man's grip, while its frantic mother writhed in a cage barely visible in the chaos. The humans were oblivious, their chatter filled with mockery, their indifference causing my fur to bristle.

“Just look at this little thing!” one of the poachers laughed, swinging the baby macaque in a mocking fashion. The others joined in, dismissing the distressed cries of the mother—careless, arrogant, and utterly oblivious to the balance they were disrupting.

Sorrow tightened my chest, but I remained hidden. It has always disgusted Nyx to have to witness the worst how people can be in the world; she has seen a great deal of it from her journey across Etheria. In this case, it's like any other thing she has seen, but it doesn't mean it didn't cause her to not be angry. My queen had instructed me to gather information, not interfere. Yet my heart ached for the mother, whose freedom was bound to a mere cage. The jungle had its own rhythm, like a kingdom or village, a pulse I was intimately familiar with, and these humans threatened to ruin this land that isn’t their own.

But it was not just the cruelty of the men that stirred me; something was moving stealthily through the foliage. The rumours were somewhat true; the mysterious animal had arrived—with feline characteristics, with something more, with mixed coloured eyes - blue and yellow,  that shone through the foliage with fierce determination. From a distance, I can confirm that it’s indeed a magicat, from looking at its form…. Or more ‘her’ form based on her sharp eye spotting certain physical assets that pinpoint its gender from it nude wild form. I watched in breathless anticipation as the mysterious female wild magicat approached the cage, mirroring the distressed calls of the mother macaque with astonishing precision. Even from my perch, I could sense the deep connection she shared with this wild world. In addition to the uncanny ability that the feline has that marked her as a magicat.

The next thing I need to confirm is if this female feral magicat is indeed the princess, that would require Nyx to come closer and have some interaction to be sure, however this isn’t the moment. It’s wrong to call it C’yra if she can’t confirm it yet, from now until then, she shall call this feral magicat as Jane Feline. 

With swift, careful movements, Jane Feline unlocked the cage, coaxing the mother macaque to escape. My own instincts urged me to leap down and join her, but I resisted, knowing the risk it would pose to not only my  fragile mission but also the kingdom’s risk of discovery. Moments later, the distressed mother macaque, sensing her chance, bolted into the trees. The mother macaque noticed me, before I did anything, the mother macaque sensed I was like Jane Feline and realised I was friendly. It went off to watch her baby macaque from the trees. Jane Feline turned, and suddenly the humans became aware of her presence, an angry swarm of men ready to strike.

The fight was swift and chaotic. Nyx was taken aback by how Jane Feline has exhibited feral instincts that would demonstrate that she was indeed raised in this jungle. With a fierce leap, Jane Feline swiped at the man who held the baby macaque, liberating it from his grasp. A rush of adrenaline coursed through me, but my aim was still to remain hidden, to gather information rather than interfere. I could only witness as Jane Feline whisked the infant macaque away, her body a blur as she navigated the perilous terrain, bullets ricocheting against the bark around them as the humans pursued. Hidden among the trees, I also pursued the on-going incident below. 

“Get her!” one shouted, pointing at the daring hybrid. My pulse quickened, a mix of fear and admiration swelling within me. As if there was a point that magicat was indeed in trouble, I would get involved, only if I would take the decision to take the lives of those humans as part of keeping my kingdom safe as the last resort. 

Jane Feline raced through the undergrowth, the baby securely nestled against her, but the sounds of pursuing footsteps grew louder. In a flash, Nyx’s mind raced, strategizing routes with every instinct honed from years travelling on different terrains. She darted, leaping over branches while also being careful not to get discovered. My heart raced with a fierce urgency. I needed to catch up to remain on the Jane Feline trail.

The sight of the river glistened with promise as Jane Feline reached the edge. With one last glance behind her, she released the baby macaque into the arms of its mother in a dramatic reunion that tugged at my heartstrings. 

Just as I thought she might evade them, the deafening crack of gunfire shattered the tranquillity. Jane Feline had delivered the baby macaque to its waiting mother, but as she turned to vanish into the safety of the jungle, a shot rang true.

“C’yra!” I whispered from my hiding place without a thought, for once, I knew she could not hear me. Why did I call her that?.

The heart-wrenching cry of the mother macaque filled the air as she fled with her child, and Jane Feline faced the poachers. They saw her as a valuable trophy, an alluring challenge, eyes glinting with greed as they plotted her capture. This is something that I’ve seen, hybrids being slaves and seen as ‘properties’ in the hidden cracks of the underworld in each kingdom, village and places she has been. The group of the poachers were led by a man whose sinister grin made my heart drop; he taunted her, relishing in the notion of capturing a creature so fierce and free.

Gritting my teeth, I watched as Jane Feline fought fiercely, her spirit unyielding against the encroaching darkness of captivity. But it was only a moment before treachery struck. A vicious lizard-hybrid, part of the group, ensnared her with a swift blow laced with venom, and I felt a surge of adrenaline as her form weakened. My stomach churned as I could only watch the struggle unfold. Even as pain clouded her vision and limbs weakened under their taunts, she managed to lash out at her captor, sending shockwaves through the air.

They laughed, revelling in their savage victory as their leader eyed her like a prized possession. Jane Feline’s fierce resistance absorbed in her legs as she stood up, WORD, staring dead in the eyes of the poachers. I had to help her, but how? Before I could formulate a plan, she managed a defiant swipe at the leader before she backed up toward the edge of the stream. But tragedy struck as a halfwit young poacher, eager to claim his prize, ensnared Catra in a tightly woven net. Causing Jane Feline to fall into the water’s chilly embrace, I felt the pang of urgency deep within me.

With fierce determination, I tightened my grip on my cloak and descended from the tree, ready to find Jane Feline—not just to fulfil my mission, but to free her from the clutches of savagery that threatened to consume her spirit in this unforgiving world.

But before I can confront the wild, feral magicat who lacks civilization, I must first locate her. However, there may be a slim chance that I may encounter Jane Feline's corpse.

Chapter Text

In the shadowy depths of the Fright Zone, veiled within its labyrinthine corridors, a stark chamber pulsed with an ominous vitality where the formidable Hordak conferred with his inner circle of lieutenants. The air was thick with a palpable tension as they gathered to deliberate their strategy for tightening their oppressive grip on Etheria. Shadows danced eerily along the walls, illuminated by the dim, flickering lights above, which cast unsettling reflections on the anxious faces of Hordak's commanders.

“We must confront our escalating challenges,” declared the chief engineer, his voice strained and edged with urgency. He leaned over a holographic display that projected blueprints of the Horde’s latest machines, flickering with static. “Our production capabilities fall short of the relentless demands we face. Every time we unleash a new wave of our creations, our enemies—especially She-Ra—counter with such ferocity that they dismantle our forces before we can achieve any semblance of impact.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the chamber, a chorus of discontent echoing off the cold, metallic walls. Grizzlor, a towering hybrid amalgamation of beast and man, grunted indignantly, his teeth bared in a snarl. “And the child soldiers we’ve recruited are woefully ineffective,” he growled. “They remain in training, fumbling with their weapons and lacking the combat prowess of seasoned warriors. How can we possibly shift the current in our favour when these fledglings still lack the skills to fight?”

Shadow Weaver, draped in tendrils of shadow and suffused with an air of ominous mystery, leaned forward, her eyes glowing with a captivating arcane energy. The faint flicker of her magic illuminated the contours of her face, casting a haunting yet mesmerising glow as she steepled her fingers together in deep contemplation. “The situation is dire,” she spoke, each word heavy with gravity, resonating with an undercurrent of despair that seemed to fill the room.

“Our stock of dark mages is sufficient for now, but it comes at a heavy cost. Many of our finest have perished in our futile attempts to combat the princesses’ spiralling powers—each loss a blow to our ranks and our morale. Others have chosen to defect to Mystacor, abandoning our cause in the name of survival, leaving behind a gaping void that is difficult to fill.

Despite these challenges, we are still managing to attract a number of recruits. Some possess extensive training, while others are fresh and inexperienced, eager yet untested. I am considering a bold strategy—redistributing our dark mages into other areas of the Horde. This could potentially bolster our operations and maintain functionality, even as our resources dwindle and challenges escalate. The time has come for us to adapt and innovate, to ensure that we do not falter in the face of rising adversity.”

The discussion fractured, descending into an uneasy silence. Each officer withdrew into their anxious thoughts, the air thick with the weight of unresolved tension. The meeting ended without a clear resolution, leaving behind a collective sense of unease. As resources dwindle and urgency filled the room, the need for innovative solutions pressed against everyone’s chests like a vice.

Chapter Text

A couple of days later:

Days had slipped by beneath the watchful gaze of the sun since the river had swept Catra away from the familiar borders of her home. She had to drag herself from the muddy banks, she found a hidden nook—an unclaimed space perfect for regaining her strength. As was instinctual, she sprayed urine around the perimeter, instinctively marking her territory and asserting her presence in this new, untamed world.

But this forest was unlike any she had known. The air was thick with unfamiliar aromas, yet amidst the novel scents, she detected a hint reminiscent of her own pouch—a faint echo of a figure that teased at her memory. Confusion gnawed at her as she inhaled deeply, trying to unravel the complex tapestry of fragrances that enveloped her. What was this place, and why did it stir such profound emotions within her?

With the weight of Vernon’s remnants lifting, Catra felt a fire rekindle within her—a fierce hunger that had simmered since her arrival, preventing her from hunting. Now, as the instinctual call of starvation surged through her veins. Thus, her quest for survival began, a dance of instinct and intuition in a world that was both strange and exhilarating.
Soon she found herself in a serene grove where towering trees gave way to breathtaking landscapes. She melted into the undergrowth, a silent shadow biding her time, each rustle of leaves igniting the primal instincts that governed her every move. With a fierce flick of her tail, Catra launched herself into the untamed embrace of the forest, her lithe form a darting shadow among the trees. Muscles rippled beneath her sinewy coat, every bound infused with the electrifying pulse of instinct. She galloped through the weaving roots that clawed at the earth. Her nose is trying to pick up any scent of potential prey,  an intricate dance of survival and purpose. The air surged with rich scents—the musk of distant creatures thrumming in her veins, the soft rustle of leaves, a whisper of cautious hope that prey lay somewhere within her reach.

Then, in the stillness, the slightest tremor in the underbrush shattered her focus. Time froze, instincts screaming, as her body coiled tightly, muscles tensed like drawn bowstrings. Catra locked onto the movement in the thicket, eyes narrowing to slits as she dropped into a predatory crouch, pulse racing. She melted seamlessly to all fours, crouching low as if the very ground would swallow her whole.

Emerging from the brush was a young Etherian deer, it's brilliant sapphire eyes wide with innocence, drawn toward a patch of golden flowers that swayed in the breeze. The fawn danced, blissfully unaware of the gaze of death that hungered just within reach. Catra watched, entranced for a fleeting moment, her claws were out, ready to strike.
But her reverie was shattered as the undergrowth thrashed once more. From the gloom, a monstrous creature emerged that seemed conjured from her deepest nightmares—a grotesque multi-segmented insect, its exoskeleton glistening in the filtered light like polished armour, but with a sinister sheen that spoke of death. Hunger gnawed at it, and as it fixed its predatory gaze on the fawn. The fawn has fled due to the chirping vibration emanating from the horrifying creature's wings. Catra’s own hunger ignited into unrestrained fury. The fawn was hers, and now that her meal was gone, this creature would reap the consequences.

The insectoid Creature, startled by her presence, flared its vast wings, gaudy and grotesque in their breadth, the iridescent colours shimmering ominously beneath the fractured canopy. It was an attempt to intimidate, to assert its cruel dominance over her domain. But Catra remains unyielding, her snarls deepening, the primal instinct roaring within her like a wildfire threatening to consume everything in its path. This thing was new to her, she never saw an insect that was this huge and is unique in comparison to smaller ones. She was not sure what to think besides the Panic and survival twisted together into a potent cocktail of ferocity echoing through her body.
She focused on her senses, each sound amplified—the snapping of branches, the rustling of low-hanging foliage, and the humming noises from the chitinous beast’s body. Catra was focused on dodging its sharp limbs with each vicious strike. Catra moved with a feline elegance, her body weaving and lunging, manifesting a deadly dance amidst the chaotic violence that threatened to engulf them both. 

The insectoid Creature tired of Catra's evasive manoeuvres. With a sudden, brutal lunge, it rammed into her, slamming her against the rough bark of a tree. The impact reverberated through her body, and she collapsed to the ground, dazed. Still gasping for breath, Catra raised her eyes just in time to see the creature unfurl its wings, preparing to unleash a noxious cloud intended to disorient her. She had no intention of letting that happen.

A primal roar erupted from her throat, shattering the stillness of the forest. Everything inside her twisted, raw and untamed. Memories of the past couple of days—filled with disorientation, the horrifying trauma of nearly drowning, and an insatiable hunger—gnawed relentlessly at her sanity. The sharp, phantom pain from the scar on her collarbone throbbed like a relentless reminder of her struggles. All of this ignited a feral rage within her—a visceral, uncontrollable need to assert her power over the mere insect of a beast standing before her.

She hurled herself at the insectoid creature, claws bared, slit pupils stared intently. She connected with its midsection, raking across its translucent wings, so delicately patterned like stained glass. Her claws tore through the fragile flesh with the ease of ripping paper, eliciting a shrill, haunting wail from the insect creature. The sound of pain reverberated through the forest.

Then, in a blur of calculated instinct, she darted back into the tangled cover of the trees. Her silhouette melded with the shadows as she manoeuvred to confuse her opponent, the fury still coursing through her veins, hungry for more. Catra hovered in the shadows, heart pounding with anticipation. In an electrifying moment, she sprang from her high perch, landing with a fierce grace right in front of the beast. Drawing on her formidable strength, she propelled herself into the air, executing a powerful high kick aimed directly at one of the creature’s spindly legs. The surprise of the attack sent shockwaves through the beast, collapsing it onto its side with a thunderous crash.
With its last desperate attempts, the creature flapped its broken, slashed wings, sending a cacophony of buzzing noises into the air. It spread its weakened limbs, including those that bore the marks of previous injuries, performing a grotesque display of intimidation. But Catra remained unfazed. The creature's threats, though terrifying, were nothing more than empty gestures to her.

As it became clear that victory eluded the bug creature, a flicker of realisation dawned in its multifaceted eyes. It turned to flee, its legs scrambling in every direction, a frantic attempt to escape the predator that had cornered it. But Catra was quicker. Driven by a primal fury, she seized the moment, darting in front of the beast, cutting off its escape.
With a feral growl, Catra propelled herself into the air, her powerful muscles coiling like springs before unleashing. She landed squarely on its grotesque face, a mass of chitinous armour and pulsating flesh. Its multifaceted eyes shimmered with an otherworldly menace, but she paid them little mind; her target was more primal, more intoxicating. Without hesitation, she sank her teeth deep into the rancid orb of one eye.

As her fangs punctured the slimy surface, a flood of vile green  liquid erupted forth, splattering across her snout and flowing down to mingle with her fur. The taste was repulsive—an acrid concoction of something rotten and fouled—soured and watery, as if she had breached the membrane of a long-dead creature. Yet beneath that revolting flavour lay something raw and instinctual, a jolt of sheer vitality that electrified her senses. In that primal act of brutality, the experience transcended the mere physical; it was an ecstasy that coursed through her, igniting a wild hunger that surpassed hunger itself.

As she clung to her prey, her claws digging into the quivering flesh for purchase, a piercing screech erupted from the bug creature, resonating through the air like a death knell. It was a cacophony of agony and desperation, a sound that made her heart race even more fervently. The creature thrashed beneath her, trying to dislodge her brutal grip, but she was relentless, a predator fused in a moment of savage clarity.

Then came the explosion—a grotesque burst as the creature's innards erupted from its body. Viscous, glistening organs spilled forth in hot waves, a gory splash that painted Catra in a gruesome tapestry of violence. The warm, thick fluid struck her fur, mingling with the dirt and sweat of battle, creating a heavy, sticky layer that clung to her like a badge of honour. It was a visceral artistry—a brutal engagement marked by blood and struggle, a testament to her ferocity in the face of monstrous cruelty.
Catra's instincts surged within her. She seized another vulnerable spot, her teeth driving deeper into the creature’s head, the taste of blood and bile flooding her senses as she felt the creature's life force ebbing away beneath her assault. Each frantic breath it tried to take came weaker and more ragged, interrupted by the sheer weight of her ferocity. The acrid smell of its blood mixed with the damp, earthy scent of the forest floor, a wild cocktail that heightened her senses and drove her to continue her assault.

The creature bucked violently beneath her, its form thrashing as it fought to dislodge her. But with each thrash, she only clung tighter, lost in the rhythm of the hunt. The screeches that once filled the air with terror began to falter, shifting into desperate wheezes that signalled its imminent defeat. Catra could feel the heat of its flesh fading and the heartbeat within its chest weakening with every powerful thrust of her own.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of savage struggle, she relinquished her grip, stepping back to survey the scene before her. The once-menacing insect beast lay splattered across the ground, its features twisted in a final grimace of agony. Green ooze poured from the gaping wounds, seeping into the ground and mingling with the matted remnants of life that were now clinging thickly to her dark fur. 

Catra crouched low, feeling the cool earth mingle with the stickiness beneath her. The first thing that seized her attention was the ghastly shine of the monstrous bug's shell. In a moment of confusion, she mistook her own reflection in its glossy surface for that of another creature and hissed defensively. Catra slashed at her reflection before turning her focus to her hunger now.

With a swift twist of her wrist, Catra lunged, her claws sinking into the bug's underbelly. The sickening crunch of its thick shell splintering beneath her assault resonated through the air, but despite the initial thrill, a shiver of revulsion crawled up her spine. A torrent of foul, gooey guts surged forth—viscous and sickly green, glimmering like a malevolent treasure before pooling beneath the carcass. The stench hit her like a slap, overwhelming and suffocating; it twisted the sweetness of the forest into something rancid and vile.

She flicked her tongue over her sharp fangs, instincts clashing with a deep-seated repulsion. Despite her distaste, hunger clawed at her gut, demanding attention. With no other choice, she plunged her fingers into the slick muck, wild-eyed and desperate, bringing the repugnant slop to her lips. The taste exploded—a vile, biting flavour that sent shockwaves through her system, a brutal clash that was more horrific than anything she had ever encountered. Ultimately, she loathed what she was tasting, but survival was paramount, and the hunger made it necessary to endure this horrid meal.

With the last remnants of the bug devoured, Catra cleaned her fingers with a rough lick, her tongue gliding over her skin to savour every sliver of the grim meal. She turned her gaze to the stained patch where the monster had once sprawled, before she turned back to home, her new home. Lying back, she gazed up at the verdant canopy above. Thinking about her old home back in the jungle, of her mother. Likely fretting over her being ‘missing’, still perceiving Catra as her cub. But Catra wasn’t a cub anymore; she was a fully grown feline. She also worried about her brother, Kael, wondering if he was eating enough in her absence without her incessant prodding

Catra's mind drifts into reflection. Saving the macaques had taken an unexpected turn; perhaps this was the first step her mother had meant when she said, “ Catra, these roots could lead you to discover who you truly are.” Turning her head slightly, Catra's gaze fell upon the dirtied pouch at her side, a tangible link to her origins.

Drawing in a slow breath, she whispered to herself, “hhhHo0me.” In that moment, Catra resolved to make this unfamiliar place her new home, sensing it as a rite of passage to explore the world as a fully grown feline. Absently, her clawed fingers grazed her collarbone.

After completely falling asleep. Unbeknownst to Catra, as she lay there in slumber, the light blue markings on Catra’s face and body began to glow softly, pulsing in time with the gentle whispers of the wood around her.

Brightmoon was alive with the energy of the morning sun, radiating warmth that danced across the royal courtyard. The vibrant colours of flowers swayed in the gentle breeze, framing the open space where laughter mingled with the sound of arrows slicing through the air. Today, the courtyard belonged to Adora, Bow, and Glimmer, the best friends who made the extraordinary appear effortless.

Bow was deeply focused, a serious glint in his eye as he lined up another shot. His target, Glimmer, was an exhilarating mix of agility and prowess, darting around while conjuring shimmering magic shields. Each time an arrow ricocheted harmlessly off her barrier, she would giggle, always eager for more. After all, friendly competition was just a part of their daily training.

Adora, meanwhile, had begun her own exploration of strength and flexibility with her sword, each slow movement in the heat calling upon memories of battles fought and struggles endured. The golden sunbeams highlighted her defined muscles, but it also illuminated a story etched onto her skin—an old scar tracing a path across her chest. The sun glinted off it as she shifted, a reminder of a previous life, a moment clouded in secrecy and worthiness she'd long since accepted.

Feeling the air cool slightly as shadows lengthened, Adora decided to take a break from her practice. Breathing deeply, she transitioned into a series of slow, fluid movements, stretching her muscles while letting her mind wander to less serious matters. Just then, she felt a warmth by her side.

“Hey, Adora,” Glimmer said softly, disrupted from her playful spar against Bow, who had excused himself to grab them all refreshing drinks.

“Hey!” Adora smiled, her heart warmed by Glimmer’s presence. “How’s it going with Bow? Holding up against his sneaky arrows?”

“Oh, you know Bow! Always trying to be the sharpshooter,” Glimmer laughed. “But if you ask me, I think he's just using those rubber-tipped arrows to get out of a real challenge!”

Adora chuckled as she wiped her brow, but something shifted in Glimmer's gaze. It was a look she recognized—a mixture of curiosity and something deeper. Adora had always known Glimmer saw her scar. It held a weight that only their closest friends seemed to understand.

“Can I ask you something?” Glimmer ventured, her voice tinged with hesitation.

“Of course,” Adora replied, meeting her friend’s eye with open trust.

Glimmer paused, her expression thoughtful. “Your scar… I’ve seen it before. I’m curious how you got it. If you’re okay sharing,” she added, sincerity shining in her eyes.
Adora inhaled sharply, the familiar twinge of memories rushing to the forefront of her mind. “It was a misunderstanding.” She looked away, her fingers unconsciously tracing the jagged line of her scar. “Back then, I should have done better, but I was just a teenager.”

Glimmer leaned in closer, her compassionate gaze fixed on Adora. “That scar… it was from an accident?” 

Adora nodded, her voice trembling yet resolute. “Yes,” she admitted, her eyes glistening with unspoken memories. “It stems after an incident that shattered a friendship I once held dear, long before I ever arrived in Brightmoon.” 

With a delicate finger, she traced the jagged line of her scar on her chest to her jawline, the past echoing in her touch. "This…," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, “Catra didn’t mean this.”

The weight of her confession hung in the air, charged with unspoken memories, as Glimmer felt the silent bond of shared hurt and hope blossom between them.
“Catra?” Glimmer’s brow furrowed in confusion, her gaze searching Adora’s face for answers about the enigma that was Adora’s past.

Adora hesitated, taking a breath that felt like an anchor in the turbulent sea of her memories. A familiar ache tightened in her chest, a heavy weight that yearned to be shared yet felt daunting to unearth. “Catra was… complicated,” she began, her voice threading through the air like a whisper of wind. “I first met her during a small group expedition in the jungle—a place alive with twisting vines and dappled sunlight hardly breaking through the thick canopy. She was wild and untamed, a fierce spirit navigating the harsh realities of her world, always fighting for survival. I think I might have been the first human she ever encountered.”

In Adora’s mind, a connection had blossomed—a friendship that flourished in their secret hideout, a sanctuary where they shared words and moments. But as the trip neared its end, words of farewell tangled in her throat, lost to an unexpected order from the Horde to leave without warning.

Glimmer leaned in closer, her eyes widening as Adora’s voice deepened, the weight of her memories pulling the words from her heart. “Years later, I found her again deep in the jungle. The moment I laid eyes on her, I was overwhelmed—stunned and elated all at once. But I hadn’t anticipated what would happen next. I was caught in a confrontation with Catra, who was fiercely defending a trapped lynx. A fellow cadet had freed the animal, but in a heartbeat, Catra snatched it back, disappearing into the dense underbrush like a whisper in the wind.

As night fell, Catra must have been searching for me by the campsite, hidden among the foliage. Something must have triggered her instincts, because suddenly, she burst into the chaos of our camp, driven by an unyielding need to ‘protect’ me.”

“Protect’ you?” Glimmer echoed, scepticism knitting her brow, confusion lacing every word like delicate thread.

“Yes,” Adora replied, her voice quivering, a fragile thread betraying the calm façade she desperately clung to. “Looking back, it all began with a simple shove—a friend playfully pushing me. In that heartbeat, Catra saw danger where there was none. She charged in, ready to defend me from an imagined threat. But the response from the cadets—and the force captain—was swift and merciless, fuelled by fear. Catra fought fiercely against a well known vicious force captain called Octavia, and in that brutal struggle. At one point, something changed inside Catra and She ended up being able to overtake Octavia…she ended up with an eye patch now.

Glimmer’s eyes widened, her breath hitching. “Wait, Catra could do that?”

“She was incredible,” Adora admitted, a hint of admiration breaking through her sorrow. “But in her defence, she was misunderstood. I tried to intervene, reaching out through the chaos, but everything spiralled out of control. A cadet fired a shot, and in a wild, instinctive panic, Catra lashed out—her claws raked across my skin. That night… everything changed.”

Adora’s eyes shimmered with a mix of pain and regret, emotions swirling within her as the memories strained against the passage of time. “She was so misunderstood. I don’t even know if she ever managed to heal from it all. I thought I understood her,” she admitted, her voice thick with sorrow.

Glimmer felt her heart sink at the anguish twisting Adora’s features. “Adora… I had no idea,” she murmured, her voice softening into a comforting whisper.

“Most don’t,” Adora replied, determination sharpening her sorrow. “Her story is buried beneath whispers and rumours—labels that clung to her like shadows. They branded her ‘beast,’ ‘bloodthirsty.’ But that isn’t who she is!” Adora’s fists clenched, frustration flooding her veins. Images of Catra—feral, scared, misunderstood—rushed through her mind, eclipsing her resolve.

“Adora,” Glimmer spoke gently, emphasising the gravity of her words. “You were just a teen then, still learning. There were things beyond your control. But you’re She-Ra now. You have the power to make a real difference for the greater good.”

The sunlight dipped lower, casting long shadows across the courtyard, a mirror of the ache deep within Adora’s heart. While she’d fought for her people and the rebellion, she felt trapped in a cycle of guilt for the choices she made when she was younger, when she had still been loyal to the Horde. “I don’t know if Catra is even alive after what happened, let alone if she will ever forgive me—or if I can forgive myself,” she whispered, vulnerability seeping through.

Glimmer placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Healing takes time, Adora. You faced greater things with your sword, and now it’s time to move forward with your heart.” The sincerity in her friend’s voice was like a balm to Adora’s wounded spirit, but it did little to ease the churning turmoil within.

Before Adora could respond, Bow appeared, a tray of drinks balanced on one hand and a bright smile on his face. “Hey, you two! I thought I'd bring you something refreshing.” He set the drinks down on the grass and plopped down beside them, oblivious to the tension that clung to the air.

“Thanks, Bow. Just what we needed,” Glimmer said, her voice lifting slightly as she accepted a drink. Adora followed suit, grateful for a moment of reprieve. As they clinked their glasses together, laughter bubbled up between them, a melodic sound that danced through the air, dispelling the shadows of sadness.

Nyx had been searching for the feral magicat, Jane Feline, for under three months. She scoured the suffocating depths of the jungle, combing through waterfalls and murky streams with desperation clawing at her throat. Mental exhaustion dripped through her resolve, flickering in the storm of uncertainty like a battered flame. She could almost taste the bitterness of defeat creeping in, but she forced herself to pause, to gather supplies and scrape together whatever remnants of energy she had left.

The cobbled streets of a nearby town lay miles away from the jungle's choking embrace, notorious for its taverns and the raucous growl of drunken revelry. As Nyx navigated the shadowy alleys, her sharp gaze caught a ragged cluster of men loitering outside a dingy establishment. Their laughter carved through the gloom, and the leader—a hulking, bearded brute named Ryder Darkwood—stood at the threshold. He was the kind of man who sowed chaos with a mere chuckle, his commanding presence dragging his companions deeper into the hedonistic whirlpool.

Nyx's heart beat faster. They could hold the key to Jane’s whereabouts through their networks, or they might be up to another hunt to tear her apart. She steeled herself for what lay ahead, fully aware that this dive would be a pit of vice and grit. She adjusted her demeanour, sliding into her role—a weary traveller with a thirst for ale and oblivion.

With her hood drawn low over her mask, she slipped into the tavern, her senses flooded with the pungent, intoxicating miasma of sweat, smoke, and greasy food. The chaos of drunken laughter surrounded her, but her eyes remained locked on Darkwood, the anchor in this tempest of lewdness. She inserted herself into the crowd, letting out half-hearted chuckles that dripped with false camaraderie as she wove through the tavern's filth, painfully aware she was an intruder among predators. 

The clock ticked in her head as she waited for the perfect moment—a flash of danger, a slip of information, something that could turn the tide of this farce. The game was afoot, and she intended to play to win, no matter the cost.

When the moment arrived, Nyx seized control of the conversation, steering it toward the heart of her inquiries—there being a rumoured creature mimicking humanity. The humans, blissfully unaware, spilled their recent failed hunt and how they haven’t heard from their network about seeing the creature and it most likely has died as their bravado frayed like old rope. Anger simmered inside Nyx, a slow burn igniting her core when she realised they had played with lives—perhaps Jane’s—like gods in a cruel game. 

A heavy silence descended, thick with dread, as Nyx shed the guise of the inquirer and embraced her role as predator. In a fluid, violent motion, she struck the leader down, his body thudding against the table full of drunk punters before he was pushed to the floor, chaos erupting around him. Glass shattered, laughter continued, while gasping were heard, and the air was suddenly heavy with tenseness.

The regulars at the bar had learned to ignore the violence that dripped from the rafters of their lives. But the remaining men froze, shock flickering in their eyes before rage set in like a fever. Nyx loomed over them, an avenging angel cloaked in death. Her voice was a whisper, barely above a growl. “If you value your lives, you’ll scatter like leaves in a storm.” 

They didn’t heed her warning; instead, they lunged at her in a desperate attempt to reclaim their shattered bravado. One man swung a glass pint with all his might, while another, a cocky young idiot, hurled a wooden chair. Nyx sidestepped their clumsy attacks with the grace of a dancer, leading them out into the darkness of a hidden corner of town where the echoes of desperation wouldn’t reach anyone.

Ryder Darkwood emerged from the shadows, cigar smoke curling around his knife-edged grin.

“What the fuck is your issue, stranger?” he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery.

“That rumoured creature is our prize, if it ever resurfaced of course.” His three goons flanked him, circling like vultures, but Nyx was acutely aware of another presence, the hybrid creature that managed to get over Jane Feline, when she was hunted by these poachers.

A smile cracked Nyx's lips, her posture deceptively relaxed as her hidden tail swished in anticipation, the tension within her coiling tighter.

“Did you really think you could escape—” the leader sneered, but his words were cut short as Nyx erupted into motion, ready to unleash violence and calculation that she had in plan.

Nyx sneered, her voice dripping with disdain. "Oh please, I know all about your scaly little friend."

Before Ryder could even twitch a finger or send a signal to his hybrid slave, Nyx’s arm whipped around, snatching the hidden assailant from thin air. One moment, her hand appeared empty; the next, she had a grip around its throat. The hybrid creature—a fusion of lizard and snake—struggled, a mix of scales and muscle spasming in her grasp.

The air went dead, the other humans frozen in shock as Nyx displayed her ruthless prowess, exposing their hidden weapon like a cat playing with a mouse. With a flick of her wrist, a thick, glistening rope materialised, and a surge of magic crackled in the air. It snapped around the hybrid, binding it tight, cutting off its breath and squashing any hopes of escape.

“You bitch!” one of them shouted, rage boiling over. “AGAIN, Who the hell do you think you are, damaging my slave?”

Nyx didn’t flinch. Instead, she advanced slowly, like a predator savouring the moment before the kill. “First of all, this creature isn’t yours. Let’s strip away the bullshit—it’s slavery. Secondly—” she yanked her hood back, and with a flicker of magic, her mask dissolved, revealing the sharp features of a magicat. To the dimwitted humans, she appeared as an exotic feline hybrid, but the stark realisation gripped their faces, draining the confidence from their eyes.

"Wait," stammered one of the young men, eyes wide with horror. “You look just like that rumoured beast! You… you resemble the feline creature we attempted to catch!”

A cruel smile danced on Nyx’s lips as she leaned closer, the air thick with tension. “I am a powerful being of the magicat race, descended from the once-mighty kingdom of Halfmoon—or what remains of it. You think you can control things and people like a god? You’ve only begun to play with forces far beyond your grasp.” 

With every word, the atmosphere thickened, the scent of sweat and fear mingling as they realised the true nature of the woman before them. In that moment, the line between predator and prey blurred, and Nyx relished the power coursing through her veins.

The other men held their ground, muscles coiled like snakes as they drew their weapons from their sides, the metallic clinks echoing in the tense air.

Ryder unsheathed a gun, it's cold steel gleaming in the dim light. A savage grin sliced across his face as he taunted, “You… shall be my new right-hand man. Oh -That scaly thing? He’s obsolete now. Sorry, Serpentis.”

‘When will you learn…’ Nyx thought in her mind.
Nyx appeared unfazed, her posture relaxed, almost mocking in its ease. In a heartbeat, before the men could even process her existence, she flicked her tail—a lethal whip of force—and vanished into thin air.

Panic rippled through the men like a struck hornet's nest, each of them scrambling to locate the prized trophy who had slipped right through their fingers. But they had no idea she was wielding a spell, an incantation cloaking her in an invincible shroud. Serpentis, however, was acutely aware, his keen senses picking up the telltale vibrations of her magic in the infrared spectrum. Still, he chose silence, disinterest boiling in the pit of his gut for his so-called 'master.'

Ryder scanned the shadows, his chilling gaze slicing through the chaos as he barked orders, “Stop gawking! Find her!”

Then, from the void, Nyx's voice sliced through the tension, a venomous whisper that sent chills racing down their spines. “You think you can command me?” 

Her words had weight, each syllable pulling at their very essence. They froze, a frigid horror settling in as they recognized the truth behind her menace: in their indefatigable pursuit, they had hunted a predator far deadlier than themselves.

Nyx’s voice dripped with contempt as she sneered, "You're all so mindlessly brutal, willing to spill blood just to fuel your insatiable greed for wealth. I never had the intention of revealing myself like this—magicats have been lurking in the shadows, hidden from your kind ever since we clawed our way back from oblivion. But now that you know we exist, I have the perfect justification to bring a little more carnage to your pathetic lives."

Before the henchmen could even process her words, death came swiftly. One man’s throat was sliced cleanly open, a crimson arc painting the ground. Another felt a brutal fist plunge into his chest, the sickening crunch of bone drowning out his gurgled cries. The last man’s neck twisted impossibly, a grotesque snap echoing in the tense silence.

In an instant, all the men surrounding Ryder lay sprawled on the cold hard ground, lifeless. The only figures standing amidst the carnage were Ryder.

"You think you can intimidate me?" Ryder stammered, his bravado cracking, unease seeping through his facade.

With a flicker of darkness, Nyx materialised before him. Her pointed ears perked, revelling in the unspoken dread she instilled in the grown man’s heart. Malignant satisfaction curling her lips. 

"You still haven’t learned… You should be scared," she purred, her voice transforming into a chilling growl. With a sickening sudden transformation, her right side morphed, giving rise to a monstrous limb, claws gleaming like polished daggers. In an instant, a crimson line ruptured Ryder's torso, painting the ground beneath him with his life’s essence. He gasped out a curse, “You feline bitch,” before the darkness claimed him, his body going limp, a lifeless heap against the barren earth. The air thickened with the stench of blood, and soon, all the humans lay dead, their final breaths snuffed out like guttering candles. 

The only one left writhing in the aftershock was Serpentis, bound and broken on the ground. Panic coursed through him as Nyx sauntered toward him, each step deliberate and predatory. 

Crouching low, she smirked, her eyes glinting with cruel delight. “What were you up to before they put that leash around your neck?” she taunted.

"None of this was ever what I wanted," Serpentis rasped, his voice trembling with a mix of shame and fury. "Chasing down hybrids like me... being wielded as a weapon... forced to play the villain." Emotion cracked his façade, the weight of his forced choices crushing him as he fought against the ropes binding him. Each word was a dagger in his own chest, a testament to the life he had never chosen but was pressed into like meat into a grinder.

"I had a family once—a real family," Serpentis rasped, the weight of memory dragging his voice low and rough. "I can still see it, that distant place, a world away from the filth of this hell." His face hardened, a jagged mask of regret and despair. "I know what I’ve done—what I'm capable of is monstrous. It was all for the sake of survival, driven by that man—the one you killed—he orchestrated this nightmare. I did what I had to do to survive, to endure this hell he crafted for me."

He could feel the end creeping closer, an executioner’s noose tightening around his throat. "If your claws are destined for me to safeguard your kingdom, then so be it. Maybe this would finally atone for the sins I committed in chains, for the darkness I embraced while living as a shadow among shadows."

Serpentis squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the strike that would plunge him into oblivion. But the blow never fell; instead, a faint, crackling noise broke through the dread, an ethereal hum that curled into his ears. The bindings holding him captive snapped open. He blinked in disbelief as the heavy collar of servitude around his neck shattered, fragments clattering to the cold ground—his chains gone, a deliverance wrapped in violent freedom.

Nyx stood before him, a relaxed feline. Her silhouette shimmered, infused with an energy that crackled in the air. "Do you know why we’re called magicats?" she asked, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Serpentis opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat as Nyx's appearance transformed. Her aura flared, a tangible force that swept through the space between them. Before he could even react, she stretched out her hand and pressed her fingertip against his forehead. A searing warmth flooded his mind, coiling around his thoughts like a vice. But just as quickly, that heat turned soft, spiralling into a dizzy haze that threatened to engulf him. As the darkness crept in and his eyelids grew heavy, he needed to express gratitude for what she had done for him.’

‘Than- ‘ Serpentis didn’t finish his sentence as he felt his heartbeat slow, surrendering to the intoxicating pull of sleep. 

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

When he next opened his eyes, he found himself in a room—an inn, he guessed. He could not recall how he had arrived, but one thing was clear: the collar that had once bound him as a slave was gone. His last memories flickered in his mind—a montage of his master and his peers, who were now dead.

Drawing his attention back to the present, he noticed a note lying next to a blue pouch on the bedside table. Curiosity piqued, he opened the pouch to discover a handful of gleaming coins—enough to last him for a long while. His long tail curled around the note, lifting it into his view. The message read: "From a hybrid to another hybrid, I hope you travel safely to reunite with your family. Don’t become the bad guy; otherwise, I will kill you." A mix of laughter and tears welled up inside him at the unexpected sentiment behind the words.

Meanwhile, on a rooftop nearby, a figure clad in a dark cloak watched the now-freed Serpentis through the window. A tail, swishing with satisfaction, peeked from beneath the cloak as she observed the impact of her actions. Though her mission was not yet complete, she had certainly made a difference that day. Her next stop, home.

Chapter Text

Catra had recently begun to venture beyond the familiar confines of her den. Driven by trying to  understand her new surroundings and maybe find some clues to her hidden heritage, she set out to explore the nearby villages, her keen instincts guiding her through the underbrush as she remained concealed from the prying eyes of the villagers.

As she stealthily navigated the vibrant market, Catra moved with a grace that belied her small frame, weaving in and out of crowded stalls and shadowy corners. Her sharp instincts guided her across the rooftops, ducking behind towering crates and lush plants that lined the pathways. Each step felt electric, alive with the pulse of the market—a kaleidoscope of sights, sounds, and scents that inundated her senses.

The air was rich with the aroma of spices she had never encountered, mingling with the sweetness of ripe fruits that glowed like jewels under the sun. Brightly coloured melons and tropical fruits beckoned from their displays; glistening cuts of meat lay temptingly in front of butchers, their sheen reflecting the dazzling sunlight. Intricately woven fabrics, shimmering in a multitude of hues, fluttered gently in the breeze, catching her eye. Every item seemed to tell a story of its own, igniting a spark of wonder deep within her.

Around her, the market thrummed with life. Townsfolk brushed past her—tiny humans bustling with purpose, some adorned in vibrant clothing while others appeared older and frail. Their laughter rang through the air like music, punctuated by the clatter of goods being exchanged and conversations layered with gestures and animated expressions. Catra’s heart raced as she absorbed this world, so vast and different from her own, a tapestry of communal life that filled her with questions and an insatiable desire to understand more.

Driven by curiosity, Catra couldn’t resist the temptation to snatch a few intriguing treasures that caught her eye. With a quick glance to ensure no one was watching, she deftly slipped the items into her pouch—impressive in capacity, it was a marvel in itself that could hold even larger objects. Exceptionally excited yet gnawed by a tinge of fear, her heart raced as she secured her small bounty. Once she had what she wanted, she disappeared into the shadows, retreating to her den, a quiet sanctuary nestled among rustling leaves, where the distant chirping of crickets welcomed her back like an old friend.

Once safely nestled within the familiar confines of her lair, Catra laid relaxed on her stomach as she took a moment to examine her intriguing finds from today's expedition. A smooth, round fruit rested in her palm, its vibrant hues of deep red and golden yellow almost glowing in the dim light of her hideout. The rich colours promised a burst of flavour, one that she couldn’t quite identify but felt drawn to nonetheless. Nearby lay a wooden cat toy, intricately carved and shaped like a feline, instantly reminding her of her dear brother Kael—his playful spirit seemed to echo within the toy's delicate grooves.

A strip of dried meat lay temptingly before her, its rich, savoury aroma curling through the air and enveloping her in a warm embrace. The enticing scent teased her senses, making her mouth water in anticipation. It was as if the meat had been crafted with meticulous care, each bite promising to be a burst of flavour that would transport her far away from the present moment. Beside it, she discovered a piece of fabric—soft and warm against her fingertips. As she stroked the delicate material, its texture brought an unexpected sense of tranquillity, soothing her restless spirit.

Suddenly, she was jolted by a vivid flashback. A youthful figure danced across her mind—a cub? No, that thought slipped away as she became entranced by the image of vibrant colours that seemed to radiate from the small creature, draping itself in brilliant hues. Confusion clouded Catra's thoughts; she couldn't accurately describe the scene before her. Looming in the background was a tall figure, a presence that felt both familiar and distant. It spoke words she couldn’t fully grasp: “Halfmoon” and “auntie.” The meanings of these words slipped through her fingers like grains of sand, leaving her bewildered.

As her mind returned to the present, Catra found herself in a strange state of calm—an unusual absence of the discomfort that typically accompanied her. Each object she had gathered kindled a flicker of curiosity, compelling her to ponder their purposes and origins. Yet, even as her interest blossomed, it was shadowed by a slight perplexity that made her heart ache.

A wave of longing washed over her as she considered her meagre collection. The vivid imagery that danced in her mind insisted that her quest was significant, a calling she could not ignore. The notion of continuing her exploration of the nearby villages and towns lingered insistently in her thoughts. While these places could never replicate the intimacy of her former home, they sprawled before her like a vast canvas: diverse, bustling, and bubbling with countless secrets waiting to be unearthed. Each journey promised new discoveries and the chance to piece together the fragments of her past, propelling her forward into the unknown.

Chapter Text

The sun cast dappled shadows across the lush gardens of Brightmoon, where the fragrance of blooming flowers mingled with the crisp air, creating an atmosphere of tranquillity that belied the spirited training of the royal armies nearby. Adora, a formidable force in her own right, navigated the training grounds with a focused grace, her long pole moving through a series of slow, deliberate poses. Each movement was intentional, a dance of strength and fluidity that spoke to her dedication and discipline as a warrior.

After an hour of rigorous practice, Adora sank onto the cool, soft grass, exhaustion settling into her bones. The rhythmic thumping of swords and the shouts of soldiers faded, and a serene silence enveloped her. She took a deep breath, letting her body sink deeper into the earth beneath her, and decided to try something that had become a source of solace in her life: meditation.

It was Perfuma, her dear friend and fellow princess, who had first introduced Adora to the world of yoga and meditation. In the chaotic realm of royal duties and battles, she had found these practices an effective way to unwind, cope with stress, and strengthen her mind. With each deep inhalation, Adora felt the tension begin to dissolve, replaced by a profound sense of peace.

As she settled into her meditative state, Adora felt the boundaries of her awareness start to blur. The vibrant colours of the garden faded into a soft hue as she drifted inward, her mind becoming a canvas for the visions that had begun to unfurl before her.

Fleeting visions took shape—a shiny stone glimmering with an ethereal light. Could it be a runestone? It pulsed with an otherworldly energy, radiating a soft blue luminescence that resonated deep within her bones. Intrigued, Adora leaned into the vision, straining to gather more details. The stone was intricately carved, ancient symbols winding around its surface in a language lost to time. Yet something felt incomplete; it was as if a part of it were missing, hinting at another separate piece that were missing.

Next, another image graced her mind’s eye, this one depicting the symbol of an unknown kingdom. In her heart, she felt a stirring, a sense of mystery that wrapped around her like a shroud. Who did this emblem belong to? What tales lay untold behind those alluring curves and lines?

But it was the last vision that seized her breath—an enormous, wild cat with luminous blue eyes, exuding a raw, primal power. The creature stood protectively over her, its gaze fierce and unwavering. Adora found herself lying on the grass, vulnerable and exposed, yet utterly safe beneath the watchful presence of the majestic beast. The cat seemed to guard her from unseen dangers, sending a shiver down her spine as an unexplainable bond formed between them.

As these visions collided and ebbed, emotions surged through Adora, igniting a fire of eagerness within her. What were these cryptic images trying to communicate? Of them all, it was the glowing runestone that captivated her the most. Surely, this was a mystery she could unravel, especially with help from Light Hope. Adora felt a determination bloom within her. 

After successfully leading a morning drill with her cadets that bristled with potential, Shadow Weaver stepped back into her dimly lit office, the door creaking softly behind her. The air was thick with the lingering adrenaline of the session, and she took a moment to gather her thoughts, attempting to quiet the whirlwind of emotions swirling in her mind. The flickering shadows cast by the sparse light danced ominously across the walls, mirroring the inner turmoil that gnawed at her.

She opted to forgo the harsh glare of the overhead light, preferring instead the ambient glow of the dark garnet runestones placed strategically in the adjoining room. The stones pulsed softly, their deep crimson light lending a semblance of warmth to the otherwise cold, shadowy space. It was in this subdued atmosphere that she sought solace, allowing the soothing yet unsettling hues to envelop her like a protective shroud as she centred her thoughts.

Time slipped by unnoticed until a gentle knock on the door broke the silence. The sound was a rhythmic echo in the quiet room, pulling her from her reverie. With a measured breath, Shadow Weaver called out, granting permission for the intruder to enter, her voice steady yet tinged with the remnants of her earlier intensity.

A short while later, the door creaked open, and Octavia stepped inside, her posture crisp and authoritative. “Shadow Weaver,” she saluted, her tone confident despite the lingering memories of their previous encounter with the rumoured creature.

“Stand down,” Shadow Weaver commanded, raising a hand dismissively. But before she could delve into her own agenda, Octavia interjected, her voice steady yet infused with excitement. “I have news about the feral creature—it’s alive. It’s been confirmed.”

Shadow Weaver’s surprise unspooled the tight coil of her anger. Normally, she would respond with ire, punishing anyone who dared to interrupt her. But the mention of the creature—a threadbare connection to her past ambitions—allowed this breach of decorum to pass unchallenged for once. Her heart raced at the possibilities, and she leaned forward, intrigued.

Octavia explains. “I have a reliable network of contacts. One of them was at a tavern in a different town, eavesdropping on a group of local poachers. They were animatedly discussing their encounter with the rumoured creature—the one we thought was dead!”

Octavia continued, her voice swelling with fervour as she spoke, her eyes shining with urgency. “The poachers encountered the feral beast; it fought them fiercely, moving with a primal grace on all fours. There was a moment when it reared back on its hind legs, a magnificent display of its strength and agility. But despite their efforts, it managed to evade capture, slipping away into a nearby stream, its sleek form vanishing beneath the water's surface before they could ensnare it. The poachers are convinced that it perished in the skirmish. However, based on our intelligence and our previous encounter with this magnificent feline, I firmly believe it could still be lurking in the shadows of this very forest.”

Octavia finished her point with, ‘Clearly this creature is a hybrid, - that hybrid is a magicat. This magicat is C’yra the princess of Halfmoon…. Can’t be sure until we actually have her under our hands. I shall refer to her as Magi-beast’. 

A wave of scepticism rippled through Shadow Weaver, his doubts surfacing like a thick, dark tide. “I find it hard to accept that this magi-beast is dead—for the second time,” she replied, his tone laced with disbelief. “Magicats are no ordinary beasts; they are the descendants of ancient warriors, their blood infused with power and legacy. Even when wounded, they possess an extraordinary resilience to survive, especially one like this, endowed with such formidable magic.”

Octavia's expression turned grave as the weight of her realisation settled over her. "Shadow Weaver," she began, her voice low and contemplative, "this magicat creature... I can't wrap my head around the fact that it’s an actual living being. Just look at how it moves and behaves—it's so primal, so feral. Capturing this creature won't be easy; it operates on instincts honed in the wild. It even managed to escape using a tactical manoeuvre with a horde! This shows it possesses an intelligence and strategy we underestimated. How, then, can we hope to bend it to our will?"

Shadow Weaver's response was cool and measured, a stark contrast to Octavia's growing agitation. "Based on your account of the encounter with this magicat, it’s clear it has been raised in complete isolation, far from any touch of civilization. I doubt it has any understanding of what it means to be a person or follow societal norms. As for how we might subjugate it—our approach will be straightforward. If we confine it in a cage for several days and limit its food supply, it will inevitably submit to our authority. Alternatively, I may be able to employ some spells that could enhance our control over it."

Shadow Weaver's presence loomed ominously as she rhythmically tapped her long, slender fingers against the cold, wooden table. Each pulse of sound reverberated through the dimly lit chamber, a stark reminder of her intense focus and the intricate web of thoughts weaving through her mind. Her eyes, shrouded in the shadow of a dark mask, gleamed with ambition and cunning as she contemplated their goal—the elusive Tiger Eye, lost to time yet within their grasp once more. 

A thrill of desire surged through her at the prospect of reclaiming the 'lost' runestone, but as the moment surged, she swiftly acknowledged the myriad complexities ahead. Acquiring this creature would demand substantial resources: skilled trackers adept at navigating treacherous terrain, specialized equipment to ensure its capture, and potent enchantments to render it compliant. Without these, their pursuit would be nothing more than a dangerous folly, and the magicat would slip further into the wilderness, beyond their grasp.

In the past, Hordak had been amenable, providing her with resources in her relentless quest for runestones, seeing her efforts as beneficial to the Horde. But revisiting their last meeting gnawed at her confidence; Hordak’s patience was dwindling. From their last conversation, she recalled his cold demeanour and critical remarks about the need for swift success. If she presented this venture solely as a personal ambition, he would be likely to dismiss it outright, especially if the data failed to guarantee rapid results. She needed to frame her proposal as something that would bolster the Horde's strength, creating a narrative where the acquisition of the Tiger Eye would be portrayed as an immediate benefit to their cause.

As the conversation zeroed in on the looming resource crisis, Octavia's focus sharpened. “What if,” she uttered, her tone clipped and her patience already waning, “I turn this into a contract job and bring in some hunters?” However, her audacity was met with disdain; Shadow Weaver scoffed, dismissing her with a derisive “stupid,” a mockery of her financial constraints.

Octavia's jaw clenched, her laughter ringing out like a warning bell. “Who says the horde will be the ones paying them?” she shot back, irritation flaring in her eyes. 

The air became electric with tension as Shadow Weaver studied her with suspicion. “You're unusually eager to capture this feral being,” she probed, her voice dripping with scepticism. “What do you think you’ll gain from this? A promotion for your precious self?”

The mention of her ambitions ignited a fire in Octavia's gaze. “I have my reasons,” she replied tersely, her tone hardening. “This creature could wield immense power—something the horde can’t afford to overlook. But personally? I want revenge.” She tapped the eye patch covering the scar the feral magicat had inflicted on her years ago, her gesture laced with unyielding bitterness.

Shadow Weaver's sly smile, however, didn’t faze Octavia. “I don’t mind if you rough up the feral creature,” she whispered conspiratorially. “Just don’t kill it. If you deliver it alive to the Fright Zone, I can offer you more than just a successful capture. You'll gain your own force to command and a larger chamber for your operations.”

Octavia's pulse quickened, excitement and anger coursing through her simultaneously. It was an opportunity—or perhaps a battlefield—for both her honour and her ambitions. This was never merely about the plan; it was deeply personal, a means to reclaim what was lost. And the path ahead, etched with danger, ignited her fierce determination. As the stakes climbed higher, her short temper flared, ready to rage against anything—or anyone—standing in her way.

Octavia’s brow furrowed with concern as she inquired, "Will Hordak be informed of this plan—hiring hunters to track down the magicat and bring it here?" Her voice carried a mix of apprehension and hope.

Before she could finish her thought, Shadow Weaver interjected, her tone both firm and resolute. “He won’t know of this until the creature is captured and presented to him. It’s best this way. Hordak’s obsession with control might jeopardise our chances. We must ensure our success before revealing any details.” 

The air between them crackled with tension as they contemplated the risks and rewards of their covert operation. Octavia exchanged a glance with Shadow Weaver, both aware that the fate of their plan—and their own futures—depended on the success of this secretive endeavour.

A suffocating silence enveloped the room, thick with unspoken concerns and the weight of their daunting mission. The tension was palpable as thoughts spiralled, each one more troubling than the last. Finally, Octavia broke the stillness, her voice steady but urgent. “We need to move quickly, Shadow Weaver. The longer we hesitate, the higher the risk of losing it again—or, even worse, of someone else trying to claim it for themselves.”

With a flick of her wrist, Shadow Weaver brought a shimmering map from nearby, its ancient symbols glowing faintly in the dim light. She gestured for Octavia to take a seat, her commanding presence radiating authority. As Octavia settled into her chair opposite her commander, the atmosphere crackled with a sense of impending action. Shadow Weaver’s piercing gaze fell on the map as she began to outline their strategy, peppering Octavia with probing questions about their recent intel: the specific location they had last been, the objectives they were pursuing prior to encountering the wild magic at, and any possible complications they had encountered along the way.

As the commander immersed himself in the intricate details of their mission, Octavia seized the moment to establish contact with the informant who had previously provided her with invaluable intelligence. Unfurling a small, sleek communication device—a relic of advanced technology—she spoke in a measured tone, consciously keeping her voice low yet clear enough for her companion, Shadow Weaver, to catch each word.

The atmosphere crackled with tension as she learned the shocking fate of the original poachers, the very individuals who had first discovered the hybrid creature and possessed detailed knowledge of its unpredictable behaviour. It was grim news: the entire group had been brutally eliminated, leaving no trace and thus raising questions about the safety of their mission. Nevertheless, the informant managed to relay essential information, details that shimmered like jewels amidst the shadows of their grim reality.

The conversation unfolded with striking clarity, yet it was tinged with an undercurrent of urgency that neither could ignore. Octavia relayed each update meticulously, her heart pounding as the implications churned in her mind. Meanwhile, Shadow Weaver, a figure cloaked in both mystery and purpose, moved with practised grace. Her slender fingers glided over the ancient parchment of their map, tracing the dark, claw-like markings that marked significant locations and potential threats. Each stroke seemed to breathe life into the map, transforming it from a mere collection of lines and symbols into a living document of their impending challenges. As they prepared for the next phase of their mission, the weight of their discoveries loomed heavily in the air, blending hope and trepidation into a potent mix of determination.

The air buzzed with a mix of apprehension and determination as Octavia’s dialogue unfolded; words were exchanged, and the map transformed into a living document of their decisions. After what felt like a lifetime, the call concluded, and the two women locked eyes, a silent agreement passing between them. They confirmed the details—each mark on the map a step closer to understanding the danger ahead. The atmosphere shifted; now, there was no room for doubt. The mission was clear, and the time to act was upon them.

Octavia leaned closer to the map spread out before her, her finger tracing the intricate patterns of the terrain. "The last confirmed sighting of the feral magicat was right here," she said, pointing to a section where the ground rose sharply, creating a natural barrier. "This elevated area, combined with the relentless flow of the stream, likely forced it downstream. The swift current would have swept the creature along rapidly."

She paused as her gaze fixated on a specific point, her finger halting deliberately above a jagged edge on the map. "This is where the situation becomes critical. The magicat then plummeted over a waterfall. From that point, the water split into several channels, each redirecting the magicat's path. It’s important to determine which way it was carried and where it eventually reached dry land."

Shadow Weaver, her companion, nodded thoughtfully. Her finger glided over the map, tracing one of the stream's tributaries. "If we consider the force of the water and the contours of the land, I believe the feral beast was most likely pushed into this channel," she elaborated, a hint of conviction in her voice. “The pressure from the waterfall and the geographical layout suggest it would have followed this route, leading us to a potential radius of its current whereabouts.”

With a precise flick of her wrist, Shadow Weaver circled a couple of key locations on the map. One marked the Thaymor area, known for its open spaces, while the other outlined the dense, tangled expanse of the Whispering Woods. "This makes sense," she continued. "Given the forest's layout, the torrent of water converges toward the outskirts. However, we must not underestimate the Whispering Woods. It is notorious not only for its magical anomalies but also for its winding paths that can easily confound even the most seasoned cadets."

Her eyes narrowed as she deliberated over the gravity of their situation, the weight of the decision pressing down like a storm cloud. "Given the myriad daunting challenges we face, it would be wise to prioritise our search in Thaymor," she intoned, her voice steady but her mind racing with the implications. "There, amid the ancient ruins and shadowed glens, we may stand a better chance of tracking the elusive feral magicat without succumbing to the disorienting allure of the woods' treacherous maze."

Octavia leaned forward, her posture brimming with new resolve, her sharp features illuminated by a spark of enthusiasm. "What if we deploy our hunters into those critical areas?" she suggested, her tone both steady and tinged with excitement. "This strategy could cut down on wasted time and resources, allowing us to pinpoint the creature's movements more effectively."

Shadow Weaver's lips curled into a sly smirk, her dark eyes glinting with approval beneath the flickering light of the torches. "Well, well," she remarked, her voice laced with playful sarcasm. "It's refreshing to hear such a strategic suggestion from you for a change, Octavia.” With a raised eyebrow, she leaned closer, intrigued by the shift in her companion's demeanour. "Perhaps this newfound determination will serve us well in unravelling the mysteries that lie ahead."

Shadow Weaver continued her instructions, her eyes gleaming with a mix of excitement and determination, just as Octavia made a subtle grimace at the implications of her words. In her hands, Shadow Weaver held a map that seemed to pulse with energy, enveloped in a swirling sphere of dark magic. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned an arcane spell, causing the single map to split into three distinct copies, each radiating a faint, ominous glow.

She handed two of the maps to Octavia, who accepted them with a raised brow, curiosity piqued.

“Octavia,” Shadow Weaver began, her voice steady and authoritative, “you will oversee the entire operation to locate a group of hunters capable of capturing a hybrid creature. Make it clear to them that the creature must remain alive. They will be compensated handsomely for their efforts.” She nodded toward the maps in Octavia's hands. “These two maps indicate the potential locations where the creature might be found. If this endeavour succeeds, the hunters will receive their reward.”

A sly smirk crept across Octavia’s face as she contemplated the hunters' fate, fully aware that they would likely see little to no compensation for their dangerous work. However, the grin faded as unease washed over her; a troubling thought nagged at her mind. She recognized a significant oversight in their plan: they had no means of accurately describing the hybrid creature to the hunters.

Shadow Weaver, enveloped in an aura of mystique, seemed transfixed for a moment, her darkened hand injured but resolute. Suddenly, she twisted her arm with a swift, deliberate movement. In one fluid motion, she pressed her palm against the side of Octavia's head, whispering arcane words that hung heavy in the air. An oppressive darkness filled the room, rendering the corners indistinct, while a swirling red and purplish aura illuminated Octavia’s features, casting eerie shadows across the walls.

As the incantation reached its peak, Octavia felt an overwhelming pressure build within her skull, causing her to jerk forward, her limbs stiffening as a sharp headache pierced her focus.

“What the hell was that?” she started to say, but caught herself, swallowing the last word as she grappled with the disorienting sensation.

Shadow Weaver, a smirk dancing on her lips, replied drily, “My actions always have reason behind them. Look closely.” With a flourish, she conjured five images crafted from meticulously layered cards, each image materialising on the table before them.

Octavia’s eyes widened in recognition as she stared at the illustrations. They depicted the very beast she had fought years ago, its twisted form etched into her memory—each detail bringing back the chaos and fear of that fateful encounter. The memories surged within her, tinged with both dread and determination. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this creature, once thought to be a distant nightmare, was about to become a pressing reality once more.

Shadow Weaver meticulously handed her four of the five images, her gaze piercing. “These will be invaluable for the hunter,” she instructed, her voice sharp and emphatic. “They must know what to look for. Understand this: the creature is likely larger now, but its essence will remain unchanged. As for your mission,” she continued, her tone shifting to one of authority, “you shall lead it. You are to provide me updates along the way—only to me. No one else must know of this.” The weight of her words settled heavily in the air. “As for Hordak... I will handle him once the magicat is within our grasp.”

As the exchange hovered between them, an electric charge seemed to crackle invisibly in the dimly lit room, infusing the very walls with a creeping sense of foreboding. The corners, once mere shadows, now swelled with a palpable energy as if they were alive, watching, waiting. Shadow Weaver dismissed Octavia with a flick of her wrist, and the apprentice departed, her footsteps echoing with a mix of anticipation and dread. The prospect of the savage princess of Halfmoon soon falling into the clutches of the Horde loomed ominously over them.

With a deliberate movement, Shadow Weaver picked up the last image from the table, her darkened hand closing around the parchment as she turned and glided into an adjoining chamber. There, the dark garnet pulsated rhythmically in the dim light, a throbbing heartbeat of dark magic. She approached it with a sense of reverence, placing her hand upon its surface while her gaze remained fixated on the feral magicat captured within the picture.

‘Soon, you will be in my hands,’ she thought, a sly smile creeping across her lips. The shadows in the room seemed to deepen, swirling around her like a cloak, as if to underscore her sinister resolve.

Chapter Text

The Valley of the Lost is a sinister locale, shrouded in perpetual twilight and cloaked in shadows that seem to throb with malevolence. At its heart stands the Black Lantern Tavern, a foreboding structure of dark stone and weathered timber, its flaking façade absorbing what little light creeps into the valley. The air is thick with an unsettling silence, occasionally shattered by the whispers of the wind that carry hints of tormented souls and dark secrets.

Inside the tavern, the atmosphere is thick and oppressive, the air laden with the scent of stale ale, smoke, and something akin to despair. Flickering candles cast a dim glow over the rough-hewn tables, illuminating the mugs of patrons whose faces are etched with lines of malice and weariness. Shadows cling to the corners, creating an eerie ambiance where eyes watch warily from the darkness. The low murmur of conversation is punctuated by harsh laughter and the occasional clang of metal on wood, as unsavoury deals are struck and secrets exchanged.

Jaxon Darkwood surveyed the grimy tavern, the font of silence accentuated by the creaking wood beneath the weight of himself and his partner-in-crime cloaked in leather and darkness. The stale air was thick like smoke, infused with tales of misery and bloodshed—a fitting atmosphere for the kind of job they'd stumbled into tonight. They huddled around a warped table, the surface marred with countless scars of spilled ale and long-forgotten arguments.

The walls of the tavern are adorned with crude tapestries depicting scenes of violence and treachery, each telling the tale of those who have come and gone, leaving behind a legacy of infamy. A massive hearth stretches across one wall, the flickering flames casting elongated shadows that dance like spectres across the faces of the patrons.

The drink served here is as dark as the hearts of those who dwell within; it is potent and bitter, fueling their nefarious activities. The clientele varies—with mercenaries, thieves, and sorcerers seeking refuge from the law or plotting their next malevolent scheme. 

Across from them stood Octavia, her presence both commanding and disquieting. The tavern's dim light flickered, reflecting off her cloak—black as sorrow. She emitted a blend of authority and danger, whispering promises that felt all too enticing yet sinister. 

“I’m here,” she began, her voice cutting through the murmurings, “on behalf of the Horde to propose a contract. There's an animal hybrid that needs to be captured—alive.”

Jaxon Darkwood exchanged a hollow glance with his cloaked accomplice, the weight of the moment heavy as a shroud on their shoulders. The air, thick and suffocating, clung to their skin, whispering echoes of blood-stained betrayal and tempting ruin. She shifted restlessly in her seat, a malicious thrill sparking in her dark eyes, betraying the excitement at the edge of their perilous venture. But Jaxon was no naïf; in this blood-soaked world, jobs were never simple, and alliances were forged in the roaring fire of treachery. "Can we trust them?" she murmured, scepticism curling her lips like the tendrils of smoke that seeped from their very souls. "The Horde? Do you truly wish to dance with that madness?"

Octavia smirked, a chilling promise lurking beneath her impatience. “This job is remarkable in its uniqueness. Be grateful I deemed you worthy, especially since our first choice—Ryder Darkwood's crew—was… inconveniently unavailable.” Her gaze darkened the space between them, a malevolence akin to the encroaching night, wreathed in shadows. “Consider this your chance. Are you so jaded from your last hunt? Or merely gifted at courting your own demise? Think of the rewards…” 

At the mention of his brother, Jaxon’s fire ignited, a tempest brewing within, but he pushed it down, battling against the urgency of their grim arrangement.

Octavia sensed the tempest behind Jaxon’s darkened eyes, her satisfaction tightening the grip she had on his emotions. “Actually, I’ve heard whispers from the depths that Ryder and his crew met a mysterious end. Yet, his slave—a hybrid—was notably absent,” she taunted.

Her words sparked a vile fury within him, a twisted contempt toward hybrids and the beasts that shared their fate. This energy surged towards the very job they now faced—hunting the hybrid that had culminated in his brother’s final hunt—Jaxon craved vindication and the chance to reclaim what was lost. A sorrowful mix of loathing and intrigue enveloped him.

Silently, Octavia slid images across the table, unveiling the creature they sought—a feral female hybrid, unlike anything the hunters had ever glimpsed; a feline amalgamation, both wondrous and monstrous. Jaxon and his accomplice recoiled slightly, the whispered rumours written upon its mixed match eyes. He maintained a façade of calm, even as a swirling abyss clawed within him, reflecting the dire stakes of their mission.

“This hybrid isn’t just any beast; it’s a thing of unimaginable savagery… Which could make the hunt infinitely more exhilarating,” Jaxon mused, his voice gravelly and laced with the chill of his dark resolve. “Let’s discuss payment.”

He cast a glance at Octavia’s accomplice, concealed in shadows like a spectre, their heavy cloak obscuring a box that radiated both opulence and malice. With a swift flick, it was unveiled—gold coins glimmered, sinister beacons of greed tempting his hollow soul. The atmosphere thickened, pulsating with avarice as he lunged for the glittering promise. But a sharp voice split the tension.

“Not until the feline is captured. Alive,” Octavia declared, her tone cold as a steel blade poised over a noose.

Jaxon’s fingers lingered above the coins, each piece a flickering mirage of twisted fortune. In his mind, chaos danced—a tempest of ambition and mortality, shadowed by treachery. “Just why is this feline so crucial to the Horde?” he sneered, sarcasm dripping like poison.

Octavia’s response was a measured coolness. “The only knowledge you require is what this job is. Capture it, and meet at a designated place, and only when all is clear will you receive your dues.”

Gold spoke a tongue even the dead comprehended, and he was drawn to this darkness like a moth to flames. There was a sick allure in hunting the very creature that had eluded his brother, even with the dreadful shadow of the Horde looming over his every move. To Jaxon, that looming dread was intoxicating; his crew might not be angels, but they thrived within the darkest corners of existence.

“Jaxon,” whispered his accomplice, her voice laced with sinister interest, “This gold presents a promise. Each member of our crew could emerge from this job with a notable windfall.”

A flicker of a smile twisted the stoic lines of Jaxon’s face as he rose, firm in his resolve. He extended his hand, sealing the accursed bargain with an assuredness that left no room for a second glance. “Deal.”

A thrill surged through Jaxon as he stared at the maps, an intoxicating mix of excitement and dread coiling in his veins. His mind raced with the meticulous preparations that lay ahead. "Just so you know, I will need time," he growled, his voice slicing through the dimness like a blade. "I must gather resources and assemble my team. Let’s discuss the journey. The trek from here to the cursed outskirts of... say, Plumeria, is no trivial undertaking. I hope your coffers can withstand the expenses?"

Octavia assured him that all costs would be covered and reiterated the importance of time—though they would need to prepare for the hybrid beast, they were also preoccupied with dealings concerning the princesses.

Jaxon took a long, refreshing swig of ale—the first sip since this negotiation began—but Octavia's unwavering gaze rooted him in the sober reality of their quest. “And remember,” she warned, her expression a mask of cold finality, “Capture it alive.”

Soon after as Octavia and her associate stepped into the swirling darkness beyond the tavern, a sense of foreboding enveloped them. Having struck a deal with the hunters, they ventured deeper into the stench-laden alleyways of the village. Silence intermingled with shadows, and the sound of their hard boots echoed faintly, leaving traces of their presence woven into the night as they meandered further away from the terms of their bargain.

“Do you really believe the Horde is in a position to hand out gold like that?” the associate questioned, scepticism lacing their tone. “They’re barely holding it together. How could we afford such a gamble?”

Octavia chuckled darkly, a low, sinister sound richer than anything the tavern could have offered. “The gold you saw is no mere metal. It’s forged by dark magic—nothing but a trick. In truth, we won’t pay them a single coin. Once they deliver the creature to us, we’ll kill them, leaving no ties behind.”

Laughter echoed off the weathered stone, a warmth beneath the chill of the night as they stepped into the nameless void of what lay ahead. The shadows embrace them tightly, as they share a moment of exhilaration amidst the looming darkness—a pact forged in deceit, each step pulling them closer to supernatural revenge.

“Let them savour the deceptive allure of gold,” Octavia mused, her eyes glinting in the night like stars on the verge of a storm. “True reward lies not in wealth, but in the reclamation of our power.”

Suddenly, their footsteps stilled as the associate summoned a transportation spell, enveloping them in flickering sparks of magic. In an instant, they vanished, leaving behind a dark circle seared into the grimy cobblestones, a mark of their passage into the unknown.

Chapter Text

The sun hung low in the sky, spilling golden light through the trees and stretching shadows like fingers across the forest floor. The air was thick with the rich scent of damp earth, mingling with the soft hum of evening creatures stirring from their slumber. I crouched low, muscles coiled like a spring, my senses heightened, ears straining to catch even the faintest rustle in the underbrush.

Suddenly, she leaped toward the thicket where my prey— a quick, fluffy creature—had taken refuge. In a split second, it darted away, just out of my reach, frustration igniting a flicker of anger within me. The thrill of the chase faded, leaving only a heavy silence behind. The hunt had grown unnervingly still, the usual symphony of sounds now subdued. With each tick of time, the gnawing hunger in my stomach intensified, a relentless reminder that my efforts had yielded nothing, and the forest—once alive with promise—felt more like a trap, tightening around me as twilight began to settle.

As I moved deeper into the underbrush, I caught a glimpse of lights flickering in the distance—a village, perhaps. My curiosity sparked momentarily. I had seen lights before, but never up close. I felt the familiar tug of caution. Humans loved their fire, and where there was fire, there was danger. Yet, my stomach growled, urging me to explore.

I crept toward the border of the village, the sounds around me shifting. The air was thick with unfamiliar scents—something sweet, something barnlike. My heart raced as I heard it: clucks and caws, the sounds of animals, not the type she is used to from the wild as these animals were harmless. My instincts kicked in, and I felt a thrill of excitement surge through me.

I moved with the stealth of a shadow, slipping behind piles of crates and barrels, each step muffled by the earth. And then I saw them—chickens. The plump, squawking birds pecked at the ground, blissfully unaware of the predator among them. My body pulsed with a primal need, and I licked my lips as I focused on one particular plump hen, its feathers fluffing against the dusk like a golden beacon.

A surge of adrenaline shot through me, propelling me forward. In a heartbeat, I leaped into action, sweeping low to snatch the unfortunate bird in my jaws. Its flailing wings sent my heart racing—a wild, frantic dance that energised every instinct within me. But I wasn’t finished; my eyes caught sight of another hen just a few feet away. I pounced, driven by hunger and the thrill of the chase. 

But then, a sudden bark erupted from behind me. I whirled around, my muscles tensing. A dog beast—its teeth bared and eyes wide—lunged in my direction. I hissed, instinctively entering defensive mode, the squirming bird still clutched in my clawed grip. The commotion drew the attention of a couple of humans, who emerged from the shadows, torches in hand. They froze, taking in the sight of me—a feral feline, wild and fierce. Their shouts pierced the night, panicking their canine companion. 

In a flash, the dog lunged again, and I reacted on instinct. I leaped back, scratching at its snout, and it yelped, retreating to its humans. But my heart dropped as I spotted the glint of metal in their hands—a gun. Just like the one the evil human boy had used against me years ago. Panic sparked in me, and I dropped my prey—one dead chicken, the other still fluttering weakly—before bounding toward the humans, a snarl tearing from my throat. 

I slammed one to the ground, pressing the cold, hard stick—their weapon—against them with surprising strength. The human's eyes widened in fear; he’d never seen anything like me up close. The other, hesitating, decided to kick at me, trying to drive me away. In one swift motion, I dodged the blow and retaliated with a fierce scratch down his leg. His scream cut through the air, a sharp note of panic.

The world around me felt like it was collapsing—the frantic shouts for help ringing in my ears, the urgency rising like a storm. I backed away, pressing against the fence that marked their territory. This was too much. Their voices swelled, drowning out the peaceful evening sounds as one of them yelled about calling the wild cat’s demise.

Seizing the moment, I snatched up the still-twitching bird, leaving the dead one behind, and bolted into the welcoming embrace of the trees. Behind me, shouts trailed off, frantic and confused, the farmer’s startled cries ringing out as more humans gathered near the scene. But they were slow and clumsy. I was a flash of shadow, a blur through the underbrush, slipping back into the wild—a realm where I belonged, untamed and free.

As I sprinted away, my heart pounded wildly in my chest, each breath quickening, a chaotic blend of panic, irritability, exhilaration, fear, and simmering anger swirling within me. Safety beckoned from the depths of the night, where the trees formed a protective barrier against the world’s watchful gaze. An unfamiliar emotion gnawed at me—guilt—but my primary focus was the primal victory of having secured my meal. This was survival, plain and simple. My jaws clenched tightly around my catch as I melted back into the comforting embrace of the shadows, each step a defiant declaration of my resolve.

Chapter Text

The dawn light seeped into Princess Nala’s room, casting a warm glow over her soft double bed. With a languorous stretch reminiscent of a cat, she basked in the comfort of her surroundings. Opening her eyes, Nala glanced out of her window, where the sprawling kingdom of New Halfmoon unfurled like a tapestry below. Nestled in the heart of the kingdom, the castle stood proudly, a majestic structure bridging the land above with the intricate underground realms.

The castle itself was a marvel, a bastion of strength, built upon ancient stone pillars that intertwined with the city’s infrastructure, acting as conduits for sunlight and moonlight alike. These pillars illuminated the underground pathways and hidden groves, infusing the vibrant life of the kingdom with an ethereal brilliance.

With a yawn and a dazzling smile, Nala slid from the bed, her bare feet landing softly on the cool, polished floor. She approached the curtains, pulling them aside to unveil the breath-taking vista of her home. The early morning air, infused with the crisp scent of dew and blossoming flowers, invigorated her spirit. Here, she felt a kinship with her people—each day, alive with possibilities.

Dressing was a simple yet meaningful ritual. Nala donned her everyday attire: a flowing dark red skirt that cascaded to the floor, a crisp white long-sleeve shirt trimmed with intricate gold accents, and the proud insignia of the magicat symbol emblazoned on the back. Each piece reflected her royal lineage while honouring her connection to the community. The royal family had long embraced a philosophy of practicality over extravagance, choosing attire that allowed for freedom of movement and a grounded presence among their subjects.

Her people mirrored this ethos in their daily wear. Traditional foot wraps replaced shoes, accommodating their unique hybrid forms, while fitted leggings and long-sleeved garments allowed for both comfort and agility—a necessity for the warriors, healers, mages, and guards who safeguarded the kingdom. And yet, one accessory united them all: the beaded bracelets worn on wrists and fingers. These magical creations were more than mere embellishments; they granted the citizens the remarkable ability to trace their steps back to their hidden home, the key to entering the underground labyrinth.

Travel beyond the surface was heavily regulated, mainly reserved for traders and selected few. Those who ventured out are required to blend in; either a mask that altered their appearance entirely or they can opt for a cloak and a mask (a feline mask that is traditional in magicat history)  This policy, created for protection and secrecy, had been embraced by most of its people since they have been here. Nala felt a swell of pride in her royal lineage’s sense of duty to the kingdom.

As Nala twirled gracefully before the ornate mirror, a thought flashed through her mind. She found herself torn between the desire to strengthen her magical abilities and the path laid out before her by her mother, Queen Leona. Though her magical prowess surpassed that of many her age, there was one peculiar moment that perplexed both her and the high mages—during her rite of passage ceremony, the tiger eye runestone simply had not connected with her. The disappointment stung, but it didn’t deter her from her passion for magic or her commitment to her people as a compassionate royal.

This unexpected twist had unsettled her parents, who both held significant magical connections. Yet they reassured Nala that this did not diminish her worth; she remained their beloved daughter, filled with love and potential.

As she gazed back at her reflection, Nala admired the determination shining in her eyes. She was the magicat princess—imbued with compassion and a yearning to serve. The desire to understand her people blossomed within her heart like the first flower of spring. But first, she needed clarity about her own path. With a final glance at herself, she went to grab breakfast in the hall where all the workers for the kingdom attended. 

After spending the day conversing with a diverse array of individuals—including warriors, mages, high council members, and community leaders—Nala finally began to discern the direction her life should take. This moment had been on the horizon ever since she completed her education some time ago. Among all these encounters, thoughts of Nyx—her adventurous auntie—began to swirl in her mind.

Since her earliest memories, Nyx had been a steadfast presence in her life, intertwining her own journey with Nala’s through tales of bravery and far-flung escapades. Although Nala never fully grasped the entire story of Nyx’s adventures, she didn’t need to; the essence of Nyx’s spirit was enough. Each tale woven from Nyx’s travels ignited a spark of inspiration within Nala, painting dreams of daring quests and uncharted territories.

As she reflected on the day’s discussions, Nala felt a swell of anticipation. Soon, Nyx would return from yet another mission, and they would finally have the chance to catch up. They would laugh, share tales. And, of course, there would be food—an unstoppable passion they both cherished. Nala could already envision the delightful surprises Nyx would bring: exotic treats and flavours gathered from the far corners of her travels, crafting their own culinary adventures even from her aunt's distant exploits.

Now, nestled in the elegant living room of the grand castle, Nala sat gracefully in an ornate chair. The castle's stone walls were adorned with intricate tapestries that narrated the rich history of the Halfmoon Kingdom; some had been crafted recently, while others had been preserved from the ravages of invasion. The dim, ethereal light from luminescent fungi enveloped her, enhancing her contemplative expression.

As she sank deeper into the plush cushions, a stirring in her heart took hold—a profound yearning to follow in her mother’s footsteps and immerse herself in the art of healing and ancient magic. Yet, uncertainty lingered. She couldn’t help but wonder how her mother would react to her aspirations. Being the only surviving daughter, she felt the weight of expectations. Alongside her ambitions, there was an undercurrent of doubt—a sense of being an imposter in a role that seemed so grand and daunting, especially given her title as a princess.

Later that evening, the family gathered for dinner in the private room. They have this space for themselves in case some of the members desire to rest from the public or if they planned to enjoy a meal together as a family, otherwise they would join in the dining hall where the staff under the kingdom would be. The expansive dining room, its long, polished table set with glimmering crystal goblets and an array of dishes from the kingdom’s rich culinary traditions. As the flickering candlelight reflected off the polished stone walls, Nala shared her aspirations with her parents. However, the mood shifted when her mother - Leona, her strong features etched with concern, voiced her discontent.

“Nala, your studies in magic are noble when you chose to do them as a foundation in college level.” Queen Leona began, her voice firm yet not unkind, “but our kingdom requires leaders; with skills such as Military leadership,  diplomacy, Conflict management, Languages and so on. You should consider taking up a role within the warrior forces. Our people need a protector with a strategic mindset as much as they need a mage.” The tension in the air crackled as Nala felt her fervent desire clash with her mother's expectations. Including when her mother mentioned languages - even though she already knew Magjca, Etherian and some level of old text’. Nala decided to speak in magjca  to entertain her mother’s comment.

“I appreciate your concern, Mother,” Nala replied, her voice steady yet resolute. “But I cannot ignore my calling to magic. Protecting our kingdom takes many forms, and this is my path—I refuse to abandon it.” The final words slipped out with a hint of passive aggression.

Leona seized the opportunity to retort. “If your struggles stem from the tiger eye runestone not connecting with you, perhaps it would be wise to reconsider your pursuits. After all, you could be the first royal Magicat to fail at this, while a position within the army is at least a guarantee,” she said with a snarky gleam in her eye as she sipped her cucumber water. The remark hurt Nala deeply.

What began as a discussion quickly escalated into a fierce debate about duty and its many interpretations. Nala's heart raced as she found herself dismissing her mother's bellicose aspirations. The passionate exchange quickly escalated into a physical spar, each combatant illuminating their respective philosophies with every graceful movement. Calliopra remained unfazed, having witnessed many passionate arguments between them before. Understanding the source of Nala's fiery spirit, she decided to observe quietly, sipping water from her glass.

Nala, demonstrating the agility of her magicat heritage, executed a deft spin, channelling her burgeoning magical energy into a spell that dazzled her mother and created a shimmering shield of light. With a swift kick, she caught Queen Leona off guard, momentarily deflecting her advance. Both queens paused, surprise and admiration flickering in their eyes as Leona's stern gaze softened. In that fleeting moment, a profound respect blossomed between them; Leona recognized Nala’s right to forge her own destiny, even while understanding that both of their paths were vital.

After a tense silence, Leona nodded, her fierce demeanour yielding to understanding. “You are an adult now, not my kitten anymore, and this is your journey. I apologise about mentioning the Tiger eye like that, you are not lesser if you end up not connecting it, what matters is what you do. If magic is how you choose to protect our kingdom, then I will support you.” 

Embracing her mother, Nala whispered into Leona's tall ear, “You let me win, didn’t you?” Leona chuckled softly, responding, “You didn’t think I’d bring out all my strength with your mother here, did you? She’d definitely punish me with a spell more powerful than yours. Maybe next time, when you've learned a few more powerful spells.” They shared a laugh, settling back into their seats.

Calliopra, who had maintained her composure throughout the intense exchange, finally set her glass down and leaned in, her voice calm yet warm. “Nala, my dear,” she began, her  bright yellow eyes shimmering in the candlelight, “each of us has a unique gift that strengthens our kingdom. Your mother's passion stems from love and concern, but as your mum, I want you to understand that magic can serve as both a tool of peace and a means of combat.”

With a graceful gesture, a hint of enchantment sparkled at her fingertips. “Magic carries its own discipline, and its wisdom can be as vital in battle as any sword or shield. There is strength in your choice, just as there is in your mother's. Sometimes, the greatest warriors wield knowledge and understanding alongside their physical prowess.”

Leona nodded in agreement, a flicker of pride illuminating her features. Calliopra pressed on, “We are all threads in a larger tapestry. Whether you choose to delve into magic, politics, or the art of war, remember that each thread plays a role in creating a stronger kingdom.”

Listening intently, Nala felt the weight of her mother’s words settle within her. “So, you believe both paths can coexist?” she asked, her heart softening.

“Absolutely,” Calliopra affirmed. “Your inclination towards magic will not diminish your ability to lead or protect. A true leader knows when to fight and when to promote harmony. Not everything involves claws as a solution, otherwise we are no better than our ancestors. We will support you no matter where you follow and what you become, my kitten.”

As the candlelight flickered around them, Nala caught her breath, feeling a newfound resolve igniting within her. She smiled at her mothers, embracing their love despite their earlier disagreements. “Then I will forge my own path,” she declared, her voice brimming with conviction. “And I will make both of you proud.”

With a playful grin, Nala added, “Perhaps you could stop calling me ‘kitten,’ Mum. I’m an adult, remember.”

Calliopra chuckled, “Never! You will always be my kitten to your mother and me.”

Just then, the door to the dining room opened, and Nyx stepped in, a broad grin on her face. For a change, she was in relaxed casual wear; firm fitting kurtas in traditional colours of the kingdom. On the back featured a sigil; an face of a feline, with pairs of Staffs. Staffs are weapons that the armed soldiers use since their kingdom became known. "I hope I’m not interrupting anything too serious," she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. With a swift motion, she tossed a small pouch toward Nala. “I brought you a little something from my travels! It’s a pouch of sweets from the mystic market fair—it’s known for its ability to boost energy and enhance magical focus to those who are magic users.”

The atmosphere in the room transformed, laughter and warmth wrapping around them as Nala eagerly opened the pouch to reveal a vibrant assortment of glowing chocolate balls. The conversation burst back to life, with Nyx animatedly sharing stories from her travels—tales of the bustling Etherian market and encounters with fascinating people—each narrative drawing laughter and joy from the family. The earlier tension had completely evaporated, leaving only Calliopra and Nyx with unspoken thoughts lingering between them. Their eyes met, glass was held, a silent agreement passing between them as they both acknowledged that they would reunite soon to discuss Nyx’s latest intel.

Chapter Text

Leona sat in the bustling dining hall, savouring a plate of fluffy scrambled eggs, crusty loaf, and savoury meat, all washed down with a rich, aromatic cup of brown coffee. The scent enveloped her like a warm hug, coaxing her into the rhythm of the day ahead. The hum of chatter filled the air, snippets of conversations weaving around her, punctuated by bursts of laughter that made the morning feel alive.

Today was different for Leona—she had traded her usual polished attire for a laid-back outfit, relishing in the comfort of a rest day. After countless debates with her fiery partner, Calliopra, it had come to this: a break from her usual routine, pushed to the edge by the fragile state of their intimacy. The final straw had landed when Calliopra's playful insistence turned serious, and suddenly, Leona found herself capitulating, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. She could already imagine her wife's mischievous grin, knowing full well that Calliopra would weather this storm with her signature flair.

Just then, a familiar voice broke her reverie. “Oh my, you're smirking! What mischief have you brewed up, my real wife?” Calliopra's playful tone washed over her as she approached from behind, wrapping her arms around Leona's waist. Planting a tender kiss on her cheek, she whispered sweetly, “Good morning, my love. By the way, you look absolutely stunning in that top.” 

Leona felt her cheeks warm, a playful blush creeping into her demeanour. In that moment, surrounded by the chatter of others yet entirely lost in their own little universe, she understood: this day—the break, the casualness, the embrace—was exactly what they both needed.

Leona couldn't help but smile as she watched Calliopra sitting across from her, savouring a simple yet delightful meal of bread and berry jam, made from the fruits of the whispering woods. It was a nostalgic scene, a reminder of simpler times, and for Leona, it marked a significant turn in her life. Over the past few years, she had rediscovered her joy, slowly shedding the weight of trauma and stress that had accompanied her through the dark days of invasion. Now, as a queen and a mother, she embraced the promise of a new kingdom, one built on hope and resilience.

"Hey, Leona," Calliopra called, breaking her reverie. "What are you planning to do with your well-deserved day off?" 

Leona's heart danced at the thought of freedom, even if just for a moment. There was a spark of possibility in the air, one that reminded her of the adventures yet to come.

Leona's eyes sparkled with excitement as she responded eagerly: 

"I'm planning to meet up with a friend and hit the Colosseum—it'll be a blast! There's just something exhilarating about training there, the echoes of past battles and the vibrant energy of the place. Plus, Nala mentioned some incredible new food stalls in the marketplace that I simply can't resist. I want to explore and see what culinary delights await us! It's the perfect opportunity to soak in the city's vibe and catch up on all its latest happenings."

She paused for a moment, a playful grin creeping across her face. “And, of course, I’d love to spend the evening with you. You know how much I adore those cosy moments we share. Remember how you use your solar sphere spell on your palms? It’s absolutely magical when you give me a back massage. Your warmth radiates through me like a gentle sunbeam, and I can't recall a time when it didn't melt away my worries.”

Calliopra leaned in, a teasing smirk dancing on her lips. "Oh really? A back massage, you say? Sounds intriguing..." Her voice was laced with a flirtatious tone, as if each word was carefully chosen to provoke a reaction. "I might just have to take you up on that offer. Who wouldn't want to bask in those warm, comforting vibes?" 

Leona and Calliopra exchanged glances, each wondering what the evening might bring as they relished their leisurely brunch, the aroma of freshly baked pastries and roasted vegetables mingling delightfully.
The atmosphere thickened with playful anticipation, both eager for what the evening held in store.

But this atmosphere of light-hearted anticipation shifted like the clouds outside the castle, darkening momentarily as Leona’s voice softened, her tone growing serious. She gently took Calliopra’s hands in her own, her fingers intertwining with a tenderness that spoke volumes. “I've been thinking that at some point this week, I might go down to the Valley of Graves,” she began slowly, gauging Calliopra’s reaction, “to lay some flowers at Luna’s and C’yra’s graves. I wanted to know if you’d like to join me.”

Calliopra's expression faltered slightly. For weeks, she had found herself avoiding discussions about C’yra, especially after the unexpected intel from Nyx, some time ago, which loomed over her heart like a shadow. The weight of memories pressed against her, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to confront them again. She opened her mouth to respond, feeling the importance of the moment swirl around them, when suddenly…

“Mom! Are we still going to the food market today?” Nala’s voice broke through the tension, bright and eager, as she bounded into the conversation. Seated beside Leona, the youthful spirit of the eighteen-year-old magicat princess seemed to light up the dimming shadows in the room.

Leona cast a glance at Calliopra, and in that fleeting moment of eye contact, they shared a silent understanding—a promise of support and reassurance. Her gaze silently echoed her previous words: “If you want to join me…”

“Absolutely, Nala!” Leona replied, her smile returning as she shifted her focus to their daughter. “After we finish our brunch, we’ll set out. I hear the market is buzzing with fresh produce today.”

Calliopra watched them both, their laughter and excitement a balm to her heavy heart. The trio continued their meal, the savoury dishes filling the table and their chatter rising once more, blending together in a warm chorus that momentarily soothed the lingering sadness. But somewhere deep inside her, Calliopra knew that the conversation about C’yra would need to come, just as the flowers awaited their placement on the grave. She took a deep breath, allowing a small smile to blossom as she too joined in the laughter, savouring the moment for now.

On the outskirts of the underground kingdom, a magnificent temple rises above vibrant fields brimming with colourful flowers, lush plants, and the lively chorus of local wildlife. This sacred sanctuary is tended by a community of skilled mages and healers dedicated to harnessing the power of nature. Their mission is twofold: to cultivate their own healing herbs in this new underground ecosystem and to pay homage to their revered deity through ritual offerings.

Years ago, the initiative was born out of necessity, as the unique flora of their new home offered an opportunity to cultivate a diverse array of medicinal plants. Today, the temple's gardens flourish with rich variety, providing not only sustenance for the residents but also vital resources for the ecosystem that surrounds them. Alongside their cultivation efforts, the mages hold healing sessions where they blend magic and herbal remedies to assist the injured and ailing. Queen Calliopra herself volunteers regularly, sharing her medical expertise and unwavering commitment to the well-being of her people.

After a particularly rewarding healing session—filled with gratitude, joyful farewells, and whispered blessings—Queen Calliopra felt the call of adventure. Embracing a playful side, she transformed into her majestic feline form, a grand creature with fur as dark as midnight. As she roamed the vibrant streets, she was met with smiles and laughter; young children mistook her for a lost cat, offering her bits of water and treats, much to her amusement.

As the sun's feeble rays filtered through the pillars of the underground city, a flutter of bat wings echoed above Queen Calliopra's head. She glanced up to see the creature clinging to a weathered pole adorned with bioluminescent flora, their vivid hues lying dormant until the darkness ascended. This single sign stirred a sense of anticipation within her; soon, she would leave the bustling communal area and embark on her familiar path toward her rendezvous with Nyx.

Entering the dilapidated building, Calliopra sank into her usual spot at the wooden table, which still bore the weight of dust as if it hadn’t felt the warmth of a cloth in ages. She absently wondered when this worn structure would finally find a new owner. At this rate, she mused, perhaps it was time to consider claiming it as her own, maybe making it into something for locals.

Nyx entered the room with a flourish, balancing two steaming cups of coffee in her hands, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips. Perched on her shoulder, Umbra, her playful bat familiar, took flight the moment they stepped inside, soaring gracefully to the table, where it landed with a soft thud, ready to greet the queen.

"Well, well! If it isn't the illustrious Umbra," Queen Calliopra exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with delight. She reached out, gently stroking the bat's velvety fur as it chittered in response, clearly enjoying the royal attention. "It’s been far too long since I’ve seen you."

Setting the coffee down with a practised ease, Nyx removed her cloak and draped it over the back of her chair. As she settled into her seat, her face became fully visible, illuminated by the soft light spilling in through the windows—no longer shrouded in mysterious shadows. 

Nyx couldn’t help but join in on the excitement. “Umbra’s been on a little hiatus, wouldn’t you say? My missions have been more solo lately,” she chuckled. “But now that we’re back home, it’s time to give her some fun! Right, Umbra?”

With a burst of enthusiasm, Umbra soared into the air, spinning in delighted circles to show just how thrilled she was.

Nyx smiled at her faithful bat familiar. “Why don’t you go hunt for those berries we saw earlier? They should be to the east of here. Just be careful and try not to scare the local kids!” she added with a teasing laugh. Umbra flapped her wings energetically in response before vanishing seamlessly through the wall.

Picking up her cup, Nyx savoured the rich taste of her drink. “Ah, I’ve missed this! Nothing on the surface quite compares,” she mused, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. A smile crept onto her lips as she remembered a charming little village in Plumeria with a delightful café. “I can’t believe I almost forgot about that,” she whispered to herself, visions of past adventures flashing through her mind.

Calliopra chuckles, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. "How on Earth could you forget? Has it really been that long for you?" 

Nyx grins back, her playful spirit shining through. "What can I say? I’ve got the travel bug—it's hard to keep track of time when you’re always on the go!" 

After a delightful exchange filled with warmth and laughter; asking what happened yesterday and how Nala and Leona have been since then. Nyx turns to Calliopra, her expression shifting to one of curiosity. "Can you conjure up those incredible sheets of imagery from my memories? I’m aware that there are variations, but this time, I want you to bring a memory to life—something that stays with us, tangible and vivid. As so I can pass my latest intel while also you seeing what I’ve saw"

Calliopra nods enthusiastically, it’s not everyday she does this spell as it is required to go into the person's mind. For Calliopra, she is a skilled magic user. She’s ready to weave magic that captures the essence of a cherished memory, transforming thoughts into visual splendour.

With a flourish, Calliopra extended her hands, hovering them gently around the sides of Nyx’s head. As her fingers glided through the air, warmth enveloped Nyx like a soothing embrace. The room seemed to vibrate with a gentle energy that promised something extraordinary.

Once Calliopra completed her incantation, she placed her hands firmly on the table, channelling her magic with focus and intent. In the blink of an eye, shimmering sheets began to materialise before Nyx, each one pulsating with vibrant colours and the essence of memories. Four sheets floated into view, each depicting a poignant scene that felt alive with emotion.

The first sheet revealed the face of a feral magicat, its striking eyes—one a brilliant yellow, the other a deep blue—reflecting the essence of its wild spirit.

The second sheet caught a breath-taking moment: the magicat heroically guiding a mother macaque to freedom, gently helping her escape from the clutches of her cage.

In stark contrast, the third sheet showed the fierce determination of the magicat as it faced off against a ruthless poacher, bravery igniting its every movement.

Finally, the fourth sheet portrayed a haunting scene of the magicat struggling in a rushing stream, the swirling water threatening to sweep it away, capturing both the chaos and beauty of nature’s unpredictable currents.

Nyx felt it was time to share her findings with Calliopra. As she relayed each piece of information, she projected vivid imagery to enhance her words. "I've been tracking the rumoured creature deep within the jungle," she began, excitement sparking in her eyes. This animal is no mere bystander; it serves as a guardian. I saw it courageously intervene to save a mother macaque and her baby from the clutches of poachers."

With her heart racing, Nyx continued, "I followed them closely to see how the situation unfolded. From observing her movements and her fierce resistance against the poachers, I am more certain than ever: this rumoured animal is unequivocally one of our own."

"She?" Calliopra inquired, her curiosity piqued.

In response, Nyx held up an image that flickered into view—a striking visual of the feral magicat, her form stark against the backdrop of the jungle. The creature had a wild, untamed beauty, her fur matted with earth and leaves, embodying the essence of the wilderness. Nyx's gaze was intense as she presented the image, ensuring Calliopra could see every detail—the determination in the magicat's stance, the protective instinct in her eyes. "This is what our kind looks like," Nyx said, her voice filled with awe and conviction.

With a playful twinkle in her eye, she added, “Well, apart from the long, messy mane covering her naked back.” A hint of humour danced in her tone, lightening the moment.

Nyx mused, “I’ve taken to calling her Jane Feline, until her identity has been figured out. Even though I watched from a distance, trying to discern her features, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was female. To confirm my suspicions, I summoned Umbra’s gaze, allowing it to swoop down closer to the action. From that vantage point, the graceful curves and silhouette of the figure clearly indicated that she was indeed an adult female.”

Meanwhile, Calliopra’s eyes were glued to the imagery before her—a figure engaged in an enigmatic interaction with a human. As she observed the scene, her fingers clenched tightly around the edges of the sheet, the tension evident in her grasp. It wasn’t just the figure that captivated her; it was the piercing eyes of the magicat that held her rapt attention. Suddenly aware of her growing fascination, she focused her pointed ears intently toward Nyx, eager to absorb every detail of their conversation.

Nyx was acutely aware of Calliopra's keen observation and felt compelled to elaborate. "Her eyes," she began, her voice steady yet filled with conviction. "Both Umbra and I witnessed them first hand. While this may not serve as definitive proof of her connection to C’yra—your long-lost daughter—it is still something to go with."

Continuing her assessment, Nyx added, "It became clear to me that Jane Feline must have been raised in the jungle. Her behaviours and movements exhibit a feral quality, reminiscent of wild felines. I was particularly struck by how she did a move that was a contrast to her wild movement like a being would do. However, I noticed that aside from her interactions with the macaques she rescued, she remained mostly silent. It seems to me that she never learned to speak,  and may communicate differently that like how we speak. It could be primitive, let's say. In addition, her perception of the world is vastly different from what you and I, Calliopra, experience."

Calliopra nodded thoughtfully, considering Nyx's insights. The observations rang true for her, highlighting aspects she hadn’t fully contemplated before.

Nyx's expression was downcast as she delivered the final part of her intelligence report. “As I tracked the poacher and Jane Feline, I discovered that they had cornered her near the tumultuous riverbank. In a ruthless ambush, those malevolent humans ensnared Jane Feline in their net, causing her to tumble helplessly into the churning waters.”

Calliopra's shock was palpable. The vivid image of Jane Feline, thrashing desperately against the fierce currents, played in her mind, crystallising the gravity of the situation. 

Nyx took a deep breath, her voice laced with frustration. "I scoured the jungle and followed every stream, but all I found was a waterfall where once there was a lively waterway. I tried to gather information from the locals, but my efforts were in vain for months. Just before I returned here, I stumbled upon a group of ruthless poachers and their grotesque hybrid lizard. Desperate to confront them, I used myself as bait, luring them to a secluded spot. In the end, I managed to kill them, but while I was at it, I couldn't simply leave the hybrid lizard behind. I set him free. 

Before I did, though, I cast a spell to erase any memory of me revealing myself as a magicat. It felt like the only righteous act I accomplished in that entire ordeal." 

Calliopra could see the anguish etched on Nyx's face. Despite posting Nyx on this difficult mission, their bond of friendship had endured for years, grounded in trust and shared experiences. She knew that this assignment weighed heavily on Nyx, and the emotional toll of her choices was evident in the weariness of her expression.

"Hey, Nyx. It’s okay, don’t beat yourself up as It's understandable. Your frustration with humanity, especially when faced with the darkness in some hearts, is completely valid. It's a heavy burden when you confront evil, and if it brings you any solace, know that your actions against those poachers were justified—not only for the safety of our kingdom but for the many lives they endangered."

After taking a moment to breathe and collect herself, Nyx felt the weight of the situation settle around her. She knew she needed to address the crucial point that weighed heavily on her mind. 

"I firmly believe that Jane Feline has not succumbed to the waters that transformed into waterfalls. As a magicat and a descendant of warriors, I can’t shake the feeling that she might still be out there, defying the odds. Our lineage is imbued with strength, and that gives me a glimmer of hope." Nyx raised her arms, her determination evident.

Calliopra paused, her brow creased in contemplation. "Hmm... I'm feeling conflicted. You mentioned that the paths near the stream and waterfall move north and south, suggesting that Jane Feline may have been carried toward Plumeria."

After a moment of silence, she gathered her thoughts and continued. “Nyx, I think it’s important for you to take a rest before you continue the task of seeking out Jane Feline. You've made significant progress on this personal mission, and you deserve some time to recharge—whether that's settling back into the kingdom or simply enjoying a moment of peace.’

As Calliopra spoke, a warm smile blossomed on her face, and Nyx instinctively relaxed, lifting her arms in a satisfying stretch.

Suddenly, Calliopra’s eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. “Oh! Before I forget, when the moment is right, I can’t wait to share a new initiative I’ve been working on. I think it will intrigue you—you’ll want to be in the loop for this!”

Nyx blinked in surprise before raising an eyebrow, a playful smirk appearing on her face. "I bet you already have my uniform ready and waiting." Calliopra let out a light laugh, acknowledging the truth in Nyx’s teasing.

As their meeting came to an end, the dusty, unused room filled with laughter, a harmonious blend of camaraderie and shared purpose. For now, the search for Jane Feline was on pause.

Chapter Text

As Nyx settled into her seat, in the open huge dining hall of New Halfmoon Castle, she noticed the intricate silver plates laid out before her, gleaming like starlight against the dark wooden table. She addresses the queens with greetings.

“Good morning, Nyx!” Calliopra greeted, her voice melodic and warm. “You look radiant today.”

“Thank you, Calliopra,” Nyx replied, a small smile gracing her lips. “Though I believe your light outshines my glow. How is Nala this morning? I hoped to see her.”

Leona's expression changed, a flicker of pride illuminating her features as her tail swayed gently behind her. “She mentioned searching for a mentor in magic. It’s an intriguing time for her, and I have faith she’ll find her own path,” she said, her voice a delicate dance of concern and confidence—the quintessential duality of motherhood.

“Really?” Calliopra interjected, a hint of surprise in her tone. “I would have thought she might come to me. I know a few mages, including one of the high mages. It's curious she didn’t ask.”

Nyx chimed in, her voice laced with wisdom. “Nala probably wants to forge her own way, free from the shadow of nepotism. I have no doubt she’ll uncover something extraordinary along her journey.”

Leona smiled at Nyx’s insight, her thoughts drifting to Luna, her late sister. Memories of Luna’s beginnings as an aspiring mage flooded back—all those early days of gathering knowledge, seeking apprenticeships, and ultimately rising to the prestigious rank of archmage. Luna had carved her own path, much like Nala was determined to do, and that realisation warmed Leona's heart.

As she spoke, Leona’s tail curled around Calliopra’s in a gesture of reassurance. “What Nala is doing isn’t a rejection of your help, my love, but rather an affirmation of her own strength,” she explained softly.

Nyx interjected playfully, “Well, if Nala ever falters, she could always consider becoming a King’s wife.” The comment sent both queens into fits of laughter, their drinks momentarily forgotten as mirth danced between them.

With the laughter still lingering in the air, they turned their attention to the feast before them—a vibrant spread of fruits, spiced pastries, and savoury dishes that celebrated their rich cultural heritage. As they shared the meal, laughter and lively conversation flowed freely, punctuated by anecdotes of past quests and cherished memories, each moment a reminder of the sweetness of friendship.

“It’s refreshing to have a morning like this,” Nyx remarked, her tone thoughtful as she savoured a piece of herb-infused bread, the warm flavours dancing on her palate. “With all the missions and everything else, it often feels like I'm racing through my days without ever truly hitting pause.”

Leona chimed in with a knowing nod, her knife plunging into her meal. “I understand that sentiment. My soldiers can certainly push my patience—sometimes it feels like I'm in a constant battle, even during breakfast.”

Calliopra's laugh was light-hearted as she leaned forward, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I bet you’d prefer the comfort of a proper bed over the confines of an inn room any day, wouldn’t you, Nyx?”

As the brunch unfolded, Nyx found herself lost in thought, contemplating how she might spend a rare few days of rest. Inspiration struck her like sunlight breaking through a cloudy sky. After taking a sip of her tea, she hesitated but wore a hopeful smile. “I’ve been thinking… I’d really love to visit a town on the surface—”

Both queens turned their gaze toward her, curiosity piqued as she hesitated. With their interest captured, she pressed on. “As a tourist, rather than an undercover operative. There’s a town called Thaymor that I've heard so much about—especially its famed delicacies. But every time I pass by, I’m too wrapped up in work to actually enjoy it.”

Leona’s brow furrowed in concern. “It would take some time to travel there and back, are you sure you want to spend a whole day there?”

Calliopra's eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned closer, her voice a playful whisper. “Why not add a little magic to the mix? I can conjure a portal right outside, on the fringes of Plumeria. You’ll be able to dash over to Thaymor in no time! What do you say, Nyx?”

Nyx’s expression shifted, her eyes gleaming with a mix of surprise and delight. “Oh, my dear Queen Calliopra! What inspired such a generous gesture on this fine day?”

Calliopra threw her head back in laughter, her joy palpable. “Don’t you dare make me reconsider, haha! There’s no greater thrill than helping a friend chase after her happiness, especially when it’s her day off!”

Leona, watching the playful exchange, couldn’t help but chuckle. “I had a feeling something like this was in the works, Nyx!”

Later on:

In one of the important rooms in the castle; the teleportation chamber buzzed with electrifying energy. Nyx approached, her casual attire complemented by a mysterious mask that transformed her look from a magicat to an everyday wanderer of intrigue.

Inside the chamber, she found Calliopra and Leona surrounded by the shimmering glow of magical sigils etched into the stone floor. This designated space was a hub of conjured power, a nexus where mages refined their travel magic to teleport objects, people, and bridge vast distances throughout the kingdom. Yet, despite the vibrant aura of energy, an air of seriousness hung in the atmosphere. Guards stood watch, ever vigilant to protect this sacred ground.

“Just be careful, Nyx,” Leona advised, trying to mask her worry with a playful smirk. “And maybe bring back something special for me to tease Nala about for a change.”

Nyx was poised to deliver a witty comeback when Calliopra gently pulled her into position, her voice a hushed whisper as she began the incantation. The air shimmered and rippled around them, casting a warm glow over the trio. An archway of brilliant light formed around Nyx, pulsating with the promise of magic and adventure. With one last conspiratorial smile exchanged among friends, she stepped through the luminous threshold, feeling the energy envelop her like a comforting embrace.

In the blink of an eye, Nyx emerged into a vibrant green landscape. The sun kissed her skin with warmth, and the mouth-watering aroma of spices and roasted meats danced around her, awakening her senses. A smile broke over her face—this was a moment to let go and relish the thrill of discovery. She began walking toward the Thaymor, her destination shimmering in the distance like a beacon of possibility.

Just then, Umbra, her spirited companion, soared gracefully down from the spiralling portal of summer brilliance, landing softly on Nyx's shoulder. Together, they were ready to enjoy some well deserved break.

Catra crouched low in the underbrush, peering through the thick foliage at the dazzling scene before her. The sun filtered down through the trees, casting warm, golden light onto the quaint village of Thaymor. She had heard whispers of its existence from local travellers in the Whispering Woods, Catra noticed how they were heading there one day, so she followed them. But nothing could have prepared her for the kaleidoscope of colours and sounds that filled her senses as she braved the clearing between the forest and civilization.

Thaymor was unlike anything she’d encountered. Tiny homes, constructed of wood and flowering vines, dotted the clearing, their rooftops draped in fragrant blooms that waved gently in the breeze. The laughter of children wafted through the air, mingling with the distant sound of a babbling brook. Clusters of villagers weaved in and out of her sight, busy with their daily tasks—tending gardens, crafting wares, and sharing words wrapped in warmth.

She straightened her back and took a tentative step forward, feeling a mix of fear and curiosity. The village boomed with life, yet it was foreign to her, and there was something intoxicating about the way the villagers moved, like they had stories woven into the very fabric of their being—stories that she longed to know.

But something else caught her eye—an object tumbling playfully in the sunlight, in a green space. A ball, bright and vivid, rolled away in the soft winds, rolling along the grass path, toward an secluded spot, beckoning to her instincts. Before she knew it, her heart raced as she fished through the leaves surrounding her, her raw, playful nature taking the lead.

Wary yet exhilarated, Catra dashed into the clearing, her powerful legs propelling her forward as her eyes locked onto the bright, moving sphere that rolled enticingly across the forest floor. The thrill of the chase surged through her veins, and just as she reached out her hand to snatch it up, a burst of laughter echoed behind her, shattering the moment. Startled, she whirled around, instincts flaring to life. Her body tensed defensively, muscles coiling as her lips curled into a snarl, a guttural growl bubbling up from her throat. 

That’s when she spotted it—a small figure bathed in sunlight, standing perfectly still. The child’s eyes were wide, caught in a whirlwind of wonder and trepidation. They were no ordinary human; with curly white hair sprouting like dandelions in bloom, oversized floppy ears, and a woolly tail swaying playfully behind them, the child appeared to be a delightful hybrid—a charming blend of sheep and human. Their small, round eyes were the vivid colour of the deepening sky, gleaming with a mixture of innocence and uncertainty.

“Who… Who are you?” The child’s voice trembled, yet there was a flicker of bravery shining through the quaver in their tone.

Catra’s heart raced, not only from the unexpected encounter but also from a sudden onslaught of confusion that washed over her. Memories—fragments of her long-buried past—flashed before her eyes like flickering shadows, conjuring images of a warmth she thought had been lost forever.

With an instinctive hiss escaping her lips, she took a cautious step back, baring her teeth in a blend of fear and ferocity. Her gaze remained locked on the little sheep hybrid, the strange tug of emotion battling within her.

Yet the child held their ground, taking a tentative step closer. One small hand raised, palm open as if to show their innocence. “You… Do you like to play too? That is my ball—a gift from my mum. I can be your friend,” they offered, their voice quivering with hope as they presented the ball that had rolled so close to Catra’s feet.

A flicker of something unnameable stirred in the back of Catra’s mind—a fleeting memory of joy and warmth, a recollection of simpler days spent playing with other creatures, memories swiftly darkened by an overshadowing of fear and abandonment. The child reminded her of a cub, a young creature she might have encountered in her past life, prompting her instinct to protect rather than attack. This posed no threat.

The child blinked, their naïve openness undeterred by the wildness radiating from Catra. “Okay, I will leave my ball here. You want fish? Local cats like them; maybe it’s the same for a big cat too?”

The innocence of their words seeped through the armour around Catra’s heart, momentarily disarming her, exposing feelings that felt strange and unfamiliar. Before she had the chance to respond, the child set the ball down and bounded away, offering Catra a fleeting opportunity to escape unnoticed.

Catra shook her head, torn between the intrigue of the world ahead of her and the warmth of the small hybrid who seemed to understand her on some unspoken level. She felt no fear nor malevolence directed at her. As she listened closely, her ears perked up to the sounds of approaching voices. She quickly ducked behind a dense thicket of decorative plants lining the path, her heart racing.

She strained to hear the small voice as it grew closer, blending with another, familiar tone—the smell wafting through the air was comforting yet strangely altered.

“Dearly, there’s no one out here. Maybe the kitten slipped away?” a soothing maternal voice stated, filled with playful confidence.

“No, mama, it was really big!” The child’s tiny arm stretched out as far as it could reach, an earnest attempt to convey the reality of their encounter. “It was here and I was playing with my ball! It looked hungry.”

The mother, caught in the delightful game of imagination, tickled her child playfully, encouraging the playful spirit. “Maybe we can just leave it on the pavement, okay? Now let’s get inside and don’t forget your ball.”

As they turned to head back, Catra sensed the soft thrum of sadness emanating from the child—a feeling she recognized all too well. Just then, their eyes met; the child glanced back and spotted the end of Catra’s tail peeking out from behind the plants, swaying ever so slightly. The child’s face lit up with pure excitement, a radiant smile breaking through their earlier apprehension as they waved, a silent goodbye echoing in the afternoon light.

With a sense of longing bubbling within her, Catra found herself helping herself to this ‘fish’, she grabbed it with her mouth before she dashed back to the forest as she needed a drink. In the sky above, a bird-like figure trailed behind her at a distance.

Chapter Text

Catra zigzagged through the dense underbrush of the Whispering Woods, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts as she clutched the little fish tightly in her jaws. The world was alive around her—the rustle of leaves, the distant chirping of birds, and the whisper of the wind through the trees—but a tension simmered beneath the thrill of the chase. In her mind, memories flickered like candlelight, shadowed reminders of a life she couldn’t quite grasp.

.....In the gentle embrace of a golden afternoon, the gardens of the castle bloomed in a riot of colours, vibrant and alive. The air was thick with the sweet scent of Sundancer Blooms, their petals reaching towards the sun like tiny outstretched hands. Sir Applefang—a sturdy, magicat figure with a coat like burnished copper—stalked through this floral explosion, his eyes scanning the foliage.

“C’yra? C’yra, where are you?” His voice was a low rumble, mingling with the whispering leaves. He knew perfectly well where the princess was, for the tips of those unmistakably pointed black ears betrayed her hiding place just beyond a cluster of blooms. A smile danced on his lips, and he crouched, his heart quickening with the anticipation of surprise.

Just as he prepared to spring forth and catch her unawares, a burst of giggles erupted from the princess. In one swift motion, she leapt from her hiding spot, pouncing onto his belly with the force of an exuberant kitten, sending him tumbling backward onto the soft earth.

“Ha, I got you, Sir Applefang!” she cried, laughter sparkling in her violet eyes.

Applefang, the much-revered protector and teacher, chuckled as he sat up, brushing the dirt from his tunic. “Okay, C’yra, you have got me. Now it’s time to get back inside for your first magjca lesson—and many more to come.”

C’yra’s face fell, her small brow furrowing in defiance as she crossed her arms. “No! I hate lessons! I liked the flowers!” Her tiny legs halted, refusing to take another step as she cast a longing glance back at the blooms, which swayed gently in the breeze.

Seeing her disappointment, a spark reignited in Applefang’s heart. He knelt beside her, a conspiratorial glint in his eye. “But look,” he beckoned, taking her tiny hand gently in his. He pulled her toward the bright flowers, excitement bubbling inside him. “These right here, the ones you were hiding in, are called Sun dancer Blooms.”

C'yra's eyes widened as he flashed a warm smile, his hand sweeping through the air like a conductor leading an orchestra. “They’ve grown among our lands for generations—longer than even your mother was a wee kitten. Legends say that during the kingdom’s earliest days, drought besieged our lands. We magicat danced to the lords of the sky—day and night—until the rains finally graced us again. And from that miracle, these flowers sprang forth!”

She listened, enraptured, as he continued, “They are our kingdom’s symbol of joy and optimism. We often give these flowers as gifts during celebrations to spread happiness. That’s why we call them Solaiwena.”

C’yra’s lips formed the word, but it tumbled out in a delightful jumble, earning a chuckle from Applefang once more. “Close, but we can practise together,” he encouraged, his voice warm and patient.

With time, her tiny voice finally echoed the word correctly, and she turned her sparkling eyes to him, her youthful curiosity bubbling forth. “What’s that?”

“That,” he replied, his voice playful and light, “is our word for this bright flower in our native language, magjca.” He caught her gaze, a serious note softening his features. “Now, let’s make a deal. If you attend your lessons, you’ll get to learn something from me in return. You know how noisy you can be whenever I see your mothers!”

Her laughter rang out, bright as the sunlit petals around them. The princess agreed with a nod, her little hand tightened around his as they began the journey back to the castle. Applefang, known more formally as Thorn Adderfang, had been a steadfast guardian and advisor to the royal family for as long as he could remember. His own line had served the royals through generations, weaving his heart into the fabric of their lives like a star embedded in a tapestry.

As they walked, the scent of the Sundancer Blooms lingered in the air, each petal whispering stories of the past and possibilities for the future. In that shared moment, under the watchful skies, Applefang felt the unbreakable bond of duty and affection wrap around him like a warm embrace, a legacy he was honoured to uphold......

Catra’s heterochromatic eyes flickered open, and she suddenly realised she had ventured deeper into the woods. She paused beside a burbling stream, where the cool water shimmered in the dappled sunlight. Dropping the fish, she bent down to lap at the refreshing liquid, the crisp water invigorating her weary body. In these solitary moments, she discovered a fleeting sense of peace that felt almost fragile.

From the depths of the forest, a gentle rustle disturbed the leaves. Umbra, small yet determined, trailed Catra at a calculated distance, her delicate wings weaving intricate shadows on the forest floor. The bat’s keen eyes tracked her every movement, while Catra remained blissfully unaware of her watchful presence.

Several miles away, Nyx savoured a delightful afternoon at the outdoor café that hugged the sun-soaked side of a cosy hut. She revelled in the breath-taking view while indulging in Sunset Spice Tarts—sweet and savoury delights filled with spiced fruits, crowned with a sprinkle of edible blossoms. Each bite captured the very essence of Thaymor's awe-inspiring sunsets, and she closed her eyes, letting the flavours dance on her tongue.

Suddenly, Umbra swooped down, startling Nyx mid-bite. She chuckled, breaking off a piece to share with her eager bat companion. Umbra munched quickly, chittering excitedly.

“What is it, Umbra?” she murmured, her curiosity sparking. Then realised that Umbra wanted to show her something she had seen.

As Umbra munched onto more treats. Nyx leaned back, as she focused on herself. Intrigued by what Umbra has for her.

Shutting her eyes, Nyx concentrated on the whirlwind of images Umbra had witnessed. She envisioned soaring through the treetops, a sea of green spread out beneath her, until a shadow darted through the foliage. It was a figure—could it be…?

Nyx's eyes flew open, meeting Umbra's expectant gaze as she polished off the last crumb of tart.

“Wait! You saw Jane Feline?” she gasped, a sudden thrill washing over her.

Nyx continued as she got up, moving up and down.  “She was here, but now she’s in the forest? You actually managed to follow her - until you lost her but you know the radius where she settles? It miles from here—is that what you’re telling me?”

Umbra fluttered his wings in eager affirmation.

Nyx sank back into her seat, her mind swirling with possibilities as she whispered to herself and Umbra. “It’s possible that Jane Feline could have washed up within miles of here, but I never imagined she would end up in this region. This is truly unexpected. I know we were meant to relax, especially after Calliopra's orders, but this... this is important. We can always find time to relax later, right Umbra”

Nyx contemplated her approach to the feral wild feline she needed to engage. Her mind raced with thoughts on how to communicate effectively with this elusive creature. With a determined glint in her eyes, she turned to Umbra, her loyal companion. Nyx articulated her plan with an excitement that bubbled within her, only to be met with a series of enthusiastic chittering from Umbra. Umbra took flight, soaring high above Nyx before circling back to offer a reassuring presence as Nyx rose and prepared to leave the familiar confines of Thaymor; mask remained, cloak worn and some extra food in her satchel bag.

As they ventured deeper into the lush, verdant landscape, Nyx felt a thrill in the air, enchanted by the vibrant flora that surrounded them. Towering trees stretched toward the sky, their leaves forming an emerald canopy, while luminous plants swayed gracefully, basking in the golden sunlight that filtered through. The soundscape was alive with the rustle of leaves and distant wildlife calls, yet Nyx's awareness was centred, sharp as she combed the underbrush for signs of Jane Feline. The flickering shadow had slipped away, leaving only a whisper of its transient presence.

But then, a distinct growl emanated from the underbrush, sending a shiver down Nyx's spine. Umbra froze mid-flight, tucking her wings tight against her body as she alighted on Nyx's shoulder, wide-eyed and alert. Nyx swallowed hard, adrenaline pumping as the growl transformed into a hiss—a primal warning that reverberated through the stillness.

The atmosphere thickened; this was more than just a hunt. It was a delicate tango of understanding—a negotiation to grasp who Jane was, to build a foundation of trust. Nyx couldn’t simply overpower or abduct her; she needed to tread carefully. “Stay close,” she whispered to Umbra. The little creature ducked into Nyx's cloak pocket, grounding her in the weight of the moment. With her heart racing, she stepped forward, feeling connected to the earthy rhythm of the world around her.

A flicker of movement snagged her attention—a flash of dark fur weaving through the brambles. Nyx's breath caught in her throat. She noticed a displaced patch of foliage where the creature had slipped away and crouched low, refocusing on her breath, willing her racing heart to steady. Peering through the tangled branches, she spotted a hybrid feline perched on a smooth rock, basking in the sun, grooming itself with an air of casual grace. Nyx inched closer, excitement tingling in her veins, but as their eyes met, the wild creature stiffened, fully aware of her presence. 

"Hello," Nyx called softly, determination threading through her voice. In a deliberate gesture, she touched her mask, making it disappear, then did the same with her cloak, revealing pointed ears and a gentle sway of her tail—asserting their connection as magicats. But she understood that Jane, having known only the wild, didn't grasp the significance. Instead this made Jane reactive as she may see never seen something like Nyx -an animal? a hybrid?, and the fact maybe Jane doesn’t realise she is like her.

Jane’s yellow-blue eyes narrowed, scrutinising Nyx with a blend of suspicion and curiosity. With a flick of her tail, she stepped into a sunbeam, details of her body showing more to Nyx’s eyes; her tawny fur streaked with dirt and shadows, muscular and poised, and a major scar on her collarbone among other marks. Showing her fangs, Jane demonstrated her dominance, though deep in her primal instincts, confusion flickered.

Nyx seized the moment to try to bridge the divide. “Hello,” she repeated, this time in magjca—a language woven with sincerity. Her words reached into the dense canopy of trees and intangible connection, pushing against the wild. Still perched, Jane remained wary, though her ears twitched, and the muscles in her posture shifted. The slightest flutter of recognition danced in her eyes, a flicker that told Nyx she might be grasping something deeply primal yet unfamiliar.

With a mix of apprehension and intrigue, Jane studied Nyx intently. Suddenly, she began to mouth a word—“Solaiwena”—the word echo from the past. It took a moment for Nyx to comprehend the significance, but recognition dawned. “Solaiwena—you remember magjca?” she asked, her heart racing.

For a moment, the forest seemed to hold its breath, the rustling leaves quieting, every creature still in curious anticipation. An intense moment stretched between them, and Nyx caught a glimpse of discomfort flickering across Jane's face—a fleeting headache or perhaps uncertainty—as her expression wavered between clarity and confusion. And then, before Nyx could react, Jane lunged.

Nyx reacted instinctively, dodging Jane’s swift strike, her heart pounding as adrenaline surged through her veins. It wasn’t anger or malice; it was raw, instinctual fear. "Jane, wait!" Nyx breathed, her voice a blend of urgency and calm. Nyx leaped back on instinct, narrowly avoiding the creature’s sharp claws. Pain flashed in Jane’s gaze—fearful, confused, yet filled with the wildness that lingered in her spirit. Understanding this was not a battle to be won with force, Nyx continued to back away, slowly, carefully, feeling the tension crackle between them.

Taking a bold step back, Nyx extended her hand, palm up—the universal sign of peace. "I have something for you," she said softly, reaching into her satchel. The cool texture of the Sunset Spice Tart felt reassuring as she held it aloft—an offering to bridge their worlds.

Jane’s posture remained tense, but as the sweet scent of the tart filled the air, Nyx watched a flicker of interest ignite in her gaze, softening the tension. As Nyx lowered the tart to the forest floor, she murmured, "It's safe. Just like me." The words hung in the air, an unspoken invitation echoing through the promise of understanding.

But nothing happened; she realised she needed proof. Taking a bite of the tart herself, she hoped to demonstrate its safety. As she chewed, Umbra emerged unexpectedly, flitting up to the treat and chirping in a friendly manner. Jane’s eyes widened with surprise at the sudden appearance of the small creature.

For a heartbeat, Jane hesitated, instincts grappling with newfound curiosity. Umbra’s gentle chirps acted like a balm, soothing the wild feline’s taut nerves. In a surprising echo, Jane mimicked Umbra’s sounds, her wild eyes betraying a flicker of interest.

Finally, Jane took a cautious step forward, gracefully blending into the sun-dappled glade. Tentatively, she sniffed the tart, tail twitching with interest. Suddenly, with deft precision, she snatched the offering with her fangs and retreated several feet, eying Nyx as if trying to discern her intentions.

“You like it?” Nyx whispered, exhilaration coursing through her as Jane savoured the treat. “I bought that from Thaymor—the same place where you got your fish from your little friend!” The mention of fish elicited an immediate shift in Jane’s expression; Nyx noted the spark of recognition dancing in her captivating eyes. This was a flicker of hope—maybe food could serve as positive reinforcement.

With each bite, Jane’s tension eased, her gaze momentarily softening as a near-smile graced her feline features. Nyx seized the moment, planting seeds of trust amid the tangled uncertainty of the forest.

“I’m Nyx—magicat,” she declared, her excitement bubbling forth. “N-yx……Mag-i-cat.” She gestured to herself, emphasising her ears and tail, inviting Jane to decipher the tone behind her words.

“Name?” Nyx pointed gently, her heart hammering, eager to see if Jane would respond, and what that is.

Jane paused, furrowed brows expressing her contemplation as she absorbed Nyx's question. In the whisper of the forest, leaves rustled as if urging clarity. After what felt like an eternity, Nyx shifted her approach with a different question, simplifying words in an attempt to connect deeper. “How yo—”

But then it happened—Jane vocalised, her sounds unclear yet tinged with emotion, surprising Nyx in a way she hadn't anticipated.

“Ca-trrra…” Catra murmured, her voice wavering—a fragile whisper that unveiled a slice of vulnerability.

This surprised Nyx, Catra didn’t understand her facial expression.This moment however was cut short.

A sudden rustle erupted from behind them. In the distance, locals revealed in nature, their laughter echoing through the air. Catra tensed, instinctively pivoting toward the source of the noise. Umbra flared her wings in a gentle attempt to reassure her.

“Catra—” Nyx began softly, “we have to—”

But before she could finish, Catra bolted into the underbrush, her instincts taking charge. Nyx's heart sank as she watched the wild feline vanish, her hopes scattering like fallen leaves in the wind. Her gaze shifted to Umbra, who mirrored her own disappointment.

“Don’t go!” Nyx exclaimed, clenching her fists. Yet just as she prepared to pursue, she noticed Umbra glancing back toward the spot where Jane had been. With deft grace, he swooped down, landing deftly near an ornately tangled mane of fur left in the wake of Catra's departure.

“Umbra, what did you find?” Nyx asked, moving closer. The bat’s expressive eyes directed her attention to a few strands of fur—the unmistakable wild brown of Catra mixed with earthy greens and the scent of magic intertwined within the strands.

“Could this belong to her?” Nyx pondered aloud, careful to collect the fur from the forest floor. A surge of potential rushed through her; this was a key element that could unlock the mystery of Catra’s past. Perhaps it would reveal her true identity.

“We have to keep this safe.” Nyx tucked the fur carefully into an empty glass viral, then into her satchel, feeling its pulse of importance echo beneath her fingers. “Okay, we now know she is based in this surrounding radius. Now, let’s head back home.”

Perfuma stood on the balcony of her magnificent tree castle, the sweet scent of blooming flowers swirling through the air around her. She gazed over the vibrant village of Plumeria, where life danced like a warm heartbeat beneath the vast azure sky. The golden rays of the afternoon sun bathed everything in a magical glow, illuminating the rich colours of her home. Her treehouse, nestled high among the branches, was not only her sanctuary but also a bridge between her and the villagers who thrived below.

“Princess Perfuma!” The cheerful shouts of children broke her reverie, drawing her attention to their eager faces. Their wide-eyed grins were contagious, and she knelt down to meet them at eye level.

“Hello, my little flowers! How is everyone today?” she asked, her voice as gentle and warm as the breeze rustling through the leaves.

“Look what I found!” one girl exclaimed, holding out a tiny daisy, her face alight with pride.

“How lovely! Did you plant it yourself?” Perfuma beamed, her heart swelling with joy as the girl nodded vigorously.

The radiant joy of the moment enveloped Perfuma like a comforting shawl, but as she shared laughter and stories, the presence of Seneschal loomed nearby. With a subtle gesture, he beckoned her aside, his expression serious against the backdrop of their laughter.

Once they retreated to the gathering room, Perfuma settled into a cosy chair, and tea was poured, the fragrant steam curling around them.

“Your Highness, I wished to discuss some troubling matters,” Seneschal began, scanning his notes intently. “There have been reports of unusual occurrences from the villagers—particularly involving those from Thaymor.”

Perfuma took a delicate sip of her tea, nodding for him to continue, curiosity flickering in her eyes.

“There have been sightings of a creature—likely the one responsible for attacking livestock,” Seneschal reported, his brow furrowing with concern. “Moreover, we’ve received word of items being stolen from stalls and markets by unknown individuals.”

Perfuma’s heart sank as she listened, her thoughts churning. Compassion washed over her; she couldn’t help but wonder if the creature was simply lost or struggling to survive. “For now,” she said, her voice resolute yet gentle, “let’s ensure that those affected by the livestock losses receive food parcels. We can also send a group of naturalist keepers to examine the wildlife in the surrounding area. It’s crucial we understand the problem, both for the villagers and the creature.”

As Seneschal nodded in agreement, Perfuma looked out toward the sprawling village, her heart steady with purpose. She knew that every challenge held the seed of a greater understanding, a chance to weave deeper connections between the heart of the land and its spirited people.

Adora stood firm in the sprawling expanse of The Crystal Castle, her heart pounding in sync with the rhythm of her training. Today had brought a series of gruelling battles against nightmares manifesting before her: projections of Horde soldiers with their menacing stares, hulking crooks with fearsome roars, and even hybrid creatures that twisted the familiar into something grotesque.. Adora felt stronger, more determined. But with each thrust and parry, her thoughts drifted. Who truly was she in this vast tapestry of kingdoms and princesses? But now, she welcomed a brief respite.

Sweat-soaked and panting, Adora sank onto the crystal training floor, a moment of calm enveloping her. But her mind buzzed with questions. As She-Ra, the guardian of Etheria, she had seen the profound bond the Princesses—especially Angella and Glimmer—shared with their Runestones. That memory tugged at a question deep within her. 

Adora sought out Light Hope, in the main centre of the castle, the enigmatic guardian of the crystal. “Light Hope,” she began, her voice tinged with curiosity. “Can you tell me about the power of the runestone and how I fit into all of this?”

Light Hope materialised beside her, an ethereal being infused with ancient wisdom. “The Runestones are conduits of immense magic, linked to the very essence of those who bear them,” Light Hope explained, shimmering like a delicate prism. “Each princess or prince has a unique bond, a piece that completes the larger puzzle of the magic within Etheria.”

Light Hope’s luminous form flickered with a gentle pulse as she projected a swirling image of the realms—glowing silhouettes of princesses and princes flickering into view. Adora's breath caught a particular figure caught her eye. Among the ethereal shapes, one stood out, its orange silhouette adorned with feline features, reminiscent of the wild, untamed spirit with warrior grace. 

“What about that one?” Adora pointed, fascination lighting her eyes.

“That is a Magicat,” Light Hope explained, her voice laced with reverence. “They are renowned for their prowess in combat and magic.”

The name struck a chord, drawing forth memories Adora had buried. Images of Catra, the wild, untamed creature she had encountered so many years ago, flooded her mind. Their friendship had been short-lived, shattered by an incident neither could forget. But Adora forced herself to pivot her focus back to the present, seeking clarity amidst the haze of nostalgia.

Adora’s heart raced at the thought of her long-lost friend. But she quickly shook herself, redirecting her focus. “What has happened to them since I never saw them?” she asked.

A solemn expression crossed Light Hope's features, and her voice became grave. “The Kingdom of Halfmoon was laid to waste by the Horde long ago—when you were really young. The royal family and all of its people perished in the flames of destruction.”

Adora's heart plunged at the devastating news. She had grown all too familiar with the aftermath left by the Horde—towns ravaged, hope extinguished—but the revelation that an entire kingdom had been erased from existence struck her deeply. It felt personal.

Beside her, Light Hope’s expression turned somber, the radiant glow that usually surrounded her dimming in response to Adora’s desolation.

Suddenly, Light Hope began to glitch, her radiant form flickering like a faltering lightbulb. The usually melodic cadence of her voice disintegrated into a chaotic jumble of distorted sounds, leaving Adora struggling to unravel the meaning in the noise. Yet, amidst the static, a few words managed to break through: “Brightmoon—zzzzzzzzzzzzzz—Angella—zzzzzzzzz—Magicat rulers.” As silence enveloped them, it hung heavy in the air, broken only by the rapid thumping of Adora's heart. Light Hope's projection stuttered to a halt, frozen and unyielding, plunging Adora into a whirlpool of confusion. It was becoming chillingly evident: each time she neared a crucial truth, an unseen force intervened to obscure her path.

“What’s the connection between Brightmoon and the Magicats?” she muttered under her breath, frustration simmering within her. “Why does this keep happening? I need answers!”

Taking a moment to steady herself, Adora stepped back, ignoring the confusion clawing at her mind. Perhaps the key lay in asking Queen Angella, though she knew discussing the war was difficult for the queen. Doubts crept in—would the topic of the Magicats even be included in that conversation? Shaking off her doubts, she took a deep breath, resolved to push forward. With a decisive flick of her wrist, she sheathed her sword and whispered a quiet farewell to the immobilized Light Hope, stepping beyond the confines of Crystal Castle. There were battles to be fought and truths waiting to be unearthed, and she was determined to carve a path through the darkness to find them.

“Maybe a slice of Razz pie will clear my thoughts,” Adora mused, as she walked past towering trees that whispered secrets with every rustle of their leaves. The gentle breeze seemed to carry a promise of adventure, and with each step, a renewed flicker of hope ignited in her heart.

Chapter Text

Adora strode through the familiar hallways of Brightmoon, the rhythmic echo of her footsteps harmonising with the kingdom’s gentle hum. Sunlight poured through the tall, elegant windows, creating a tapestry of golden patterns that danced across the polished stone floor. The air buzzed with life, vibrant and electric, yet there was a whispering curiosity inside Adora—a quest for deeper understanding that gnawed at her like a small brother seeking attention.

As she ventured further, a glimpse of Glimmer caught her eye. The princess was nestled on her bed, engrossed in an open book. Adora paused, leaning against the doorframe, her heart brimming with anticipation as she waited for her best friend to sense her presence. When Glimmer finally looked up, her dusty-pink eyes sparkled with surprise and delight. In an enthusiastic flurry, Glimmer hopped off the bed, only to vanish in a puff of shimmering light right before Adora’s eyes.

“Hey, Adora! Don’t scare me like that! Come in!” she exclaimed, pulling Adora into the cozy embrace of her room and shutting the door behind them. She set the book aside, chirping, “What’s up?” as she spun around to face her friend, her energy infectious.

Adora took a seat beside Glimmer, a serious note slipping into her voice. “Since I last trained with Light Hope, there was a mention of ‘magicats’ when we spoke about runestones.”

The mention of the magicats sparked a flicker of hesitation in Glimmer's eyes, the warmth in her gaze dimming. Adora felt a knot of unease tighten in her stomach; she wasn't sure if Glimmer knew the full story.

"Do you know about the magicats?" Adora asked cautiously, her voice gentle, aware of the sensitive nature of the subject.

Glimmer's shoulders slumped, a wistful smile playing on her lips. "Honestly? Not much," she admitted softly, her tone almost apologetic. "I was young when the Halfmoon invasion happened, so my knowledge is mostly second-hand—just whispers and fragments of stories. I remember their runestone, it looked like a huge eye…." She paused, her brow furrowing as she searched for the right word. "It's called... slit pupils? No, not that... Ah! I remember! It's called the 'Tiger Eye.'"

Adora felt a chill run down her spine. Glimmer's description echoed a vision she had recently experienced, a vision she hadn't shared with anyone. Unbeknownst to Glimmer, her words struck a chord deep within Adora, her heart pounding with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

"My parents were very close to the kingdom," Glimmer continued, oblivious to Adora's reaction. "They visited often—in relation to the First Princess Alliance meetings and even for some personal visits... But that's the extent of it, really. Just echoes of the past."

The room fell silent, heavy with the weight of unspoken history. Adora's thoughts drifted to the fragments of information Light Hope had shared, the whispers of a forgotten kingdom. "It's tragic, isn't it?" Glimmer murmured, her voice barely audible. "Most people remember them, but they've moved on, to the point that it seems only a few remember them. All that's left are scraps of stories in old books, dusty history lessons, and crumbling ruins... their castle."

Adora had always imagined the castle completely obliterated by the Horde. When Light Hope had mentioned that "the Kingdom of Halfmoon was laid to waste by the Horde long ago," she had envisioned nothing but overgrown rubble. The thought that it could still be standing sent a jolt through her, leaving her speechless.

Glimmer nodded solemnly, her gaze distant. "Yeah, it is. Sometimes I daydream about knowing more—what it would be like to be friends with C'yra if she would have survived."

"C'yra?" Adora echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Glimmer's voice trailed off as a flicker of pain crossed her features. She seemed lost in thought, her words almost inaudible. "I'm not sure my mom would want to talk about it. She seems to have moved on, like all of us. But sometimes I catch her staring at old portraits of the old alliance, including the magicat queens, in our castle. There's a wistful smile on her face..."

Just as Glimmer was about to reveal more, inspiration ignited within Adora. She stood up abruptly, determination flooding her voice. “I’ll ask her—carefully,” she declared, surprising even herself with her conviction.

“Wait! You don’t have to rush off—stay with me!” Glimmer protested, furrowing her brow in confusion.

Adora shook her head with determination. “I need to speak with your mother. If I want to become a better She-Ra, understanding the runestones—and the magicats as well—is essential.” With that, she pivoted sharply on her heel and hurried toward the door, the vibrant flash of her departure disappearing into the hallway.

As Adora jogged down the lively corridors; filled with guards and those who worked in the castle, her heart raced in sync with her pace. She greeted the guards as she went past them. The kingdom pulsed with life around her, yet the weight of She-ra’s responsibility was still on her shoulders. 

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The Gardens of the Crystal Castle stretched luxuriously beneath the vibrant afternoon sun, their hues interwoven in a living tapestry that pulsed with an energy all its own. Adora had inquired about the queen’s whereabouts and was told that Queen Angella was nearby, wandering through the royal grounds like a gentle spirit among the blooms.

The crunch of her boots on the stone path echoed in time with the tumultuous storm raging within Adora. A burst of colour from a flowering bush caught her eye, and there, amidst the garden's vibrant tapestry, stood Queen Angella. Her gaze drifted dreamily over the blooms, as if they were portals to a forgotten past.

"Your Majesty," Adora's voice, a gentle breeze in the tranquil garden, broke the queen's reverie.

Angella turned, her eyes registering recognition, softening momentarily. But a flicker of sadness, of memories too painful to bear, crossed her face. "Adora," she whispered, her voice a sigh, each word a precious echo of a bygone era. "I was simply admiring the Sundancer Blooms."

Adora stepped closer, allowing the garden's beauty to seep into her soul, her focus fixed on the queen. "They are magnificent," she said, her voice tinged with wonder. "Unlike anything I've seen in Thaymor or the other parts of Etheria. In fact, I wanted to ask you about something I recently discovered." A hint of apprehension laced her tone.

A subtle shift in the queen's posture betrayed her apprehension. "What have you learned, Adora?" she asked, her voice filled with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

Taking a steadying breath, Adora said, "I've been studying She-Ra and her connection to the runestones, which led me to explore the kingdoms." She felt her heart quicken as she noticed the queen's growing unease. "There were references about the Magicats, from Light Hope. I was hoping to learn more about them from you."

“Yes, the Magicats were remarkable beings. They were led by noble queens who were dear friends of mine and allies to Brightmoon,” Queen Angella interjected, her voice beginning to drift into a distant reverie. “They were warriors of unparalleled skill and magic. But that was a long time ago, Adora.” 

Adora felt a wave of concern rise within her. She never realised that Queen Angella was friends with the queens of Halfmoon, but she chose not to comment on it.

A wistful smile touched Queen Angella's lips as she spoke of the Magicat queens, their spirits seemingly awakened by the very mention of their names. "I'll tell you about them," she said, her voice warm with cherished memories. "They were fierce, loyal, and vibrant, each queen embodying a unique strength. Queen Leona, with a spirit as wild as the wind, led with fearless passion. Queen Calliopra, radiating compassion, wielded magic that safeguarded her people. And Luna, Queen Leona's sister, possessed an understanding of magic that transcended borders. Then there was Princess C'yra – she burned with a fire that could illuminate the darkest night."

Adora felt a gentle warmth bloom in her heart as she pictured these legendary figures, each a beacon of a vibrant kingdom that had once thrived. Now, their legacy whispered like echoes of a world irrevocably lost.

A flicker of sadness crossed Queen Angella’s features. “Their legacy is woven into the rest of the lands of  of Etheria, Adora. But we must also acknowledge the sorrow that accompanies their loss. I often find myself thinking that Princess C’yra would be around your age now. If she were here, she would undoubtedly be part of what is now the Princess Alliance.” A tremor of grief lingered in her voice as she recalled the cataclysmic invasion of Halfmoon—a tragedy that shattered lives and kingdoms, halting the original Alliance. “I feel their absence in every moment.” 

"I can't even begin to fathom your grief," Adora whispered, her own heart aching with empathy. The pain resonated within her, a familiar echo of her own losses.

Adora then spoke of Princess C'yra, praising her as a worthy rival, someone who would have pushed Adora to be her best. But her words were cut short by Queen Angella, her voice filled with quiet sadness.

"Adora, please," the Queen said softly. "I understand you've lost people in this war, but for me, it's been a lifelong struggle. Even before you were born, I witnessed the darkness of Hordak and others like him. This conversation about the Magicats… it cuts deep. It's a personal loss that feels like a double-edged sword. But ultimately, the past is the past. What matters now is moving forward."

Silence enveloped them, thick with unspoken words and lingering emotions. Adora inhaled deeply, feeling a storm of thoughts whirl within her. Overwhelmed, she finally spoke. “Thank you for sharing your memories of the Magicat queens, Queen Angella. I truly appreciate your openness.” 

As Adora turned to leave, Queen Angella offered a parting gift, a nugget of wisdom woven into a thoughtful gesture. Gazing towards the horizon, her eyes seemed to pierce the veil of time. "There's no need to seek more. Their legacy lives on within the pages of books," she said, her voice soft but firm. "The scholars of my kingdom compiled their stories, passed down through generations. You'll find modern texts, carefully crafted by Brightmoon and Mystacor, within the restricted section of the Brightmoon Great Library. You're welcome to explore them whenever you wish."

Adora paused, allowing the weight of the queen's words to settle around them like the petals scattered at their feet. “Thank you.” 

The streets of Ser lembros, hummed with life as Nyx stepped into town, the weight of her travels bearing down on her like a cloak woven from the history of her journey. The air was rich with the scent of pastries, warm bread, and the vibrant flow of native traders bartering. Laughter filled the cobblestone square as the townsfolk greeted one another, their faces alight with the joy of reunion. Nyx paused to adjust the straps of her satchel.

As she navigated through the bustling streets, Nyx’s heart quickened at the sight of familiar faces, citizens of Halfmoon greeting one another with warmth and camaraderie. Laughter mingled with the echoes of footfalls, creating a melody of community. But her gaze was drawn to the centre of the square where Queen Calliopra stood, her ethereal presence drawing the attention of her people. The queen’s regal hair shimmered like silver in the twilight, and the ornate patterns of her gown reflected the kingdom’s love for nature and artistry.

“Umbra, go say hi to her!” Nyx urged her familiar, who perched on her shoulder, wings ruffled in excitement. With a few powerful flaps, Umbra took to the air, soaring towards the queen as Nyx followed closely behind.

Umbra landed on the shoulder of the queen, Umbra chirped, a few playful swoops and dives punctuating her greeting.

Calliopra’s eyes sparkled with surprise and delight as she recognized the familiar. “Umbra! How wonderful to see you again! And you, Nyx! You’re back. How was your day trip in Thaymor?!” The queen's face lit up with genuine warmth as she turned her attention to Nyx.

"Thaymor was nice! Ate some food here and there and their festivals are as colourful as the market here!" Nyx exclaimed, her heart swelling with joy.

"It warms my heart to hear that," Calliopra replied, her eyes glancing around the square. “I told you having days off is nice. Perhaps Umbra would like to see Eclipse? It has been a while since he saw you.”

At the mention of Eclipse, a shimmering portal opened above them, bathing the square in soft, ethereal light. A distant hooting sound echoed through the air as a magnificent creature emerged. Eclipse, Calliopra’s owl familiar, descended gracefully, landing nearby.

Umbra flitted in excitement, chirping loudly as she dove past Eclipse like an arrow, signalling for the owl to join her in a spirited game of chase.

“Look at them!” Nyx said, laughter dancing in her voice as she watched the two familiars whirling about in playful abandon. The crowd around them gazed in awe, momentarily forgetting their errands to watch the spectacle.

Nyx smiled briefly, but her expression quickly shifted to one of seriousness as she leaned in, her voice dropping to just above a whisper. “We need to speak more freely. Let’s step aside; there are important matters to discuss, my friend.”

Calliopra tilted her head, the urgency in Nyx’s tone evident. “Of course. Let’s find somewhere more private.”

In a swift motion, they moved together. They slipped into an abandoned building that had once served as their clandestine meeting spot, the atmosphere around them instantly changing, enveloping them in a shroud of necessary secrecy. Once inside, they settled at a dusty table, the air thick with unvoiced concerns. Nyx leaned closer to Calliopra, her voice fierce and intense. “I’ve come face-to-face with Jane Feline, Calliopra.”

“What?” Calliopra's voice quivered slightly, her tall ears perking up with intrigue. “How???"

“Yes,” Nyx affirmed, urgency lacing her excitement. “Umbra spotted her and followed her into the eastern reaches, miles away from Thaymor. She led me straight to her. But it’s more complicated than we thought.”

Calliopra raised an eyebrow, captivated as Nyx elaborated.

Taking a deep breath, Nyx spoke carefully. “She’s raw and wary—untamed. Unaware of her heritage, but there’s hope. She responded to me; I believe we can establish a bond of trust.”

Nyx added thoughtfully, “Beneath that tough exterior lies a fragile vulnerability.”

A knot twisted in Calliopra’s stomach, a mix of thrill and unease. “What do you mean by vulnerable?”

Nyx composed her thoughts, preparing to delve deeper. “I sensed she could easily be exploited—perhaps as a slave, a pet, or even a weapon, given her feral skills. The rumours surrounding her don’t help either. Jane’s not accustomed to life outside the shelter of nature; she lacks the skills to defend herself verbally and wouldn’t recognize the dangers looming around her. That’s why it’s crucial we build trust before bringing her back with us. Once she’s home, we can teach her to navigate our world, whether she’s ready or not.”

As Nyx shared her insights, Calliopra listened intently, absorbing each detail. Nyx continued, “We can’t rush her. It’s vital to give her safety and space, allowing her to learn to trust us on her own terms before we reveal our world and help her uncover her identity.”

Calliopra nodded, her expression softening, urging Nyx to continue. “Hmm, something I almost overlooked—also how did she respond to you?”

At first, Jane was wary, but everything changed when I revealed my true self as a magicat. When she finally saw my face, her demeanour shifted back to apprehension and confusion, yet I glimpsed flickers of recognition in her eyes. It seemed Jane carried no memories of her life before the wild—not a single connection to our culture, civilization, or family, only fleeting impressions. Nyx began to speak, her words spilling forth like autumn leaves in a gentle breeze. “I used food as positive reinforcement, which also helped build a bond between us. It felt strange to treat her like an animal. What surprised me was that when I spoke in Magjca, her body language revealed a certain familiarity with the language.”

Calliopra frowned slightly. “What did she say in Magjca? Can she truly connect with us?”

“She whispered a single word—‘Solaiwena.’ I’m unsure of its significance to her,” Nyx replied, recalling another vital detail. “I learned that Jane Feline’s true name is ‘Catra.’ That surfaced slowly as I engaged her and repeated my name a few times. Now we know—Jane Feline is actually Catra.”

“After discovering her name,” Nyx continued, her heart racing at the memory, “our progress was interrupted by a disturbance that scared her, causing her to flee. I couldn’t pursue her; I didn’t want to jeopardise the trust we’d begun to build.” 

Both of them fell silent for a moment, absorbing the weight of what had been shared.

Deep within the shadowed depths of the towering fortress, Hordak loomed ominously over a gathering of his followers. His irritation simmered as he faced yet another meeting focused on the troubling depletion of their resources and the spiralling costs of relentless conflict. Encircled by the cold, unyielding metal walls that seemed to drink in the green light, the most cunning minds of the Horde convened: ruthless commanders with bloodstained hands, merciless weapons engineers, and odious advisors. Among them, the sinister Shadow Weaver, the devious Octavia, and the monstrous Grizzlor sat in rapt attention, their eyes glittering with the promise of malevolence.

The flickering yellow fluorescent light cast malevolent shadows that danced grotesquely, echoing the sinister gravity of their discourse: the low resources while keeping up with pushing its forces to their enemies  clutching at a crumbling Horde empire's power. As the voices escalated into a cacophony of despair and ambition, the suggestion of a dreadfully provocative scheme emerged from the darkness of the room—a whisper that held the weight of cataclysm.

A pallid figure, lingered in the periphery, tentatively ventured forth. “What if we turn to animals?” His words slithered through the silence, each syllable heavy with foreboding. The assembly recoiled at the prospect, all eyes locking onto him with an intensity that promised both danger and intrigue. “Untamed, instinct-driven creatures. Imagine the dark potential should we unleash their primal savagery. They require little beyond flesh to sustain them, and we could forge them into instruments of war. Far more reliable than the naïve whims of soldiers including stolen children—these beasts will not question our rule.”

The chilling implications hung in the air, an unseen fog settling over the table—dark fascination entangling their minds. “Picture a legion of feral beasts, conditioned to our every whim,” he continued, voice low and dripping with temptation. “They would carve a savage path through our foes, standing shoulder to shoulder with our mechanised horrors and the desperate wretches of war. They would know only loyalty to us, their instinct to kill honed to a blade's edge.”

Grizzlor, the titan of muscle and wrath, erupted with fervour, his voice a rumble of thunder. “This plan outstrips the folly of employing hybrids bound in artificial chains,” he exclaimed, fists clenched in primal need for violence. “These creatures can be wielded as weapons, ferocity without the encumbrance of thought or rebellion. They crave survival; we need only manipulate that instinct.”

In the shadows of the gathering, Shadow Weaver’s sharp gaze narrowed, scepticism tingling her words as she analysed the chaotic scene before her. “But beasts are wild—they’re unpredictable. What mischief lies in store if they turn against their masters?” She locked eyes with Hordak, a storm brewing within her as unsettling thoughts crept in. The memory of the secret mission to hunt the elusive magicat beast flickered in her mind. Perhaps she could somehow turn this situation to her advantage, but for now, she kept silent, the mission still hanging in uncertainty. Shadow Weaver shifted her perspective, realising this chaotic scenario might align nicely with her future plans. “Perhaps we ought to shackle them with chains or create enchanted collars—something to keep control over and  their savagery at bay.”

Her musings were interrupted by another official, his voice trembling with apprehension. “What if we were to ensnare that legendary creature?” The air grew thick with unspoken consequences, heavy weight settling on all present.

Hordak seized control of the meeting, his voice as cold as steel. “These beasts are lesser beings—mere instruments for my uses,” he declared, his icy smile and booming laughter reverberating throughout the chamber. He gestured to an advisor, instructing him to collaborate with the engineer on creating facilities to house these animals. His red gaze fell upon Shadow Weaver. “You will lead this initiative. Rethink our current objectives and oversee the capture and transportation of these animals to the Fright Zone.”

As Hordak's chilling proclamation resonated through the chamber, the assembly dispersed like restless phantoms, burdened by thoughts of unquenchable ambition and unholy dominion. 

In the darkened corridors of the fortress, Shadow Weaver felt Octavia's presence beside her, the air thick with foreboding. “What of the contact you secured for the feral magicat, Commander Octavia?” she prompted, urgency lacing her otherwise emotionless tone.

In the foreboding corridors of the fortress, where shadows clung like whispers of forgotten pain, Shadow Weaver sensed the dark weight of Octavia lingering beside her. The air was thick with a sense of doom, a prelude to something catastrophic. “What news of the contact regarding the feral magicat, Commander Octavia?” she inquired, urgency slipping through the cracks of her otherwise icy composure.

Octavia’s expression twisted with anger and disdain, her features stark against the gloomy backdrop. “No word. Once again, entrusting our fate to treacherous vermin has led to nothing but disappointment.” Her voice fell away, swallowed by the oppressive silence—until the sudden crack of a communication device shattered the tension like glass underfoot.

Steadying herself against the receiver, Octavia's heart plummeted as she absorbed the grim announcement: Jaxon Darkwood is dead, along with his crew.

The corridor seemed to thicken with shadows, mourning the weight of this loss. Octavia pressed onward, dread clawing at her spine. Jaxon’s demise had raised the stakes in their already precarious game. “How fitting,” she murmured, bitterness seeping into her voice, masking the grief that simmered just beneath the surface. As they reached the imposing door of Shadow Weaver's office, the sorceress whispered to herself, laden with annoyance. “If you want something done, do it yourself.”

Octavia spun to meet Shadow Weaver’s chilling gaze, determination igniting within her. “What is our next move?” she demanded, defiance flickering in her tone like a dying candle.

“You will lead this secret mission,” Shadow Weaver declared, a dark expression flickered behind her mask..

Electricity coursed through Octavia, mingling with the adrenaline. “Once I locate the feral magicat, can I... have a little fun with it?” she teased, a predatory gleam sparkling in her eyes as memories of their last encounter flared to life—those razor-sharp claws that had marked her face, a reminder of the battle she had lost.

“As long as it still breathes, you may indulge your wicked pleasures as you see fit.” The words dripped from Shadow Weaver's lips like poison, laced with sinister approval.

A tempest of anticipation surged within Octavia as vengeance began to weave its dark tendrils around her heart. “Very well,” she replied, her voice a sultry whisper hiding tumultuous desire.

But before she could vanish into the shadows, she added, “If I find the feral magicat, can you summon your dark mages to assist with teleportation? We must capture it before it retaliates.”

Shadow Weaver regarded her with a calculating gaze, the air thickening with unspoken promises and lurking treachery. After a moment that felt like an eternity, she nodded, acknowledging the fierce resolve that ignited within Octavia. “Yes, that can be arranged nearer to the time.”

After a shared moment of silence, Nyx took a deep breath, bracing herself to delve deeper into their conversation.

“I have something that might help us discover Catra’s true identity,” Nyx said, pulling a satchel onto the table and rummaging through its contents.

She presented Calliopra with a glass vial containing a tuft of fur, its weight heavy with the promise of revelation. “This came from Jane—I mean Catra. Umbra found it as she fled.”

Calliopra's gaze locked onto the vial, her heart racing with a blend of hope and dread. “What do we do with it?” she asked, instinctively gripping it tightly.

“This could help us determine if Catra is your daughter. The high mage has the ability to reveal the truth. But are you prepared for that truth?”

Calliopra shook her head, her voice trembling in a strained whisper. “What if Catra is really C’yra, my beloved daughter whom I thought was lost forever? How could I possibly tell Leona? How can I break this to her—that her daughter might still be alive? And what about Nala?”

“Calli, I know this is difficult—” Nyx began, but before she could find the right words, a sudden creak reverberated through the room. 

creakkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

Both Nyx and Calliopra spun around, the air thickening with an unspoken tension. The door swung open, revealing a figure cloaked in shadow. Nyx gasped softly, her eyes widening as realisation hit her. Calliopra’s heart raced; she recognized that presence all too well.

“Leona?” Calliopra whispered, disbelief halting the rhythm of her heartbeat.

Leona’s icy gaze revealed a tempest of confusion and something darker beneath the surface. “I was patrolling nearby when I spotted you both, cloaked and sneaking away. I felt compelled to follow... especially after what I overheard,” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut.

Nyx’s stomach plummeted. “You heard everything?” she asked, anxiety gnawing at her insides, teetering between dread and a flicker of hope that felt both enticing and cruel.

“I heard enough,” Leona replied, her tone harsh. “Your wild speculation about some wild lost magicat on the surface, possibly being my dead child… What proof do you have to entertain such fantasies?” Her words struck hard, embedding themselves in Calliopra’s heart like poisoned arrows.

“Leona, it’s not as you think!” Calliopra stammered, her voice quaking, anguish etching deep lines across her features.

“Then explain!” Leona urged, stepping forward, her eyes shimmering with a painful intensity. “Why would you keep this from me? Why exclude me from the conversation about our daughter, C'yra—who may or may not be alive? Is this the reason you've been avoiding her grave and steering clear of any mention of her for the past few months?”

“We were trying to protect you,” Nyx interjected firmly, standing resolute beside Calliopra. “The implications are monumental. We believed it best to assess the situation before burdening you with more sorrow.”

“Protect me?” Leona exploded, her voice resonating with fury and betrayal as she locked eyes with Nyx. “You think withholding hope could spare my heart? My heart is already shattered into a million fragments! We thought we had moved on—what about Nala, our daughter?! You should focus on her!”

The air crackled with raw emotions, a storm of unsaid truths swirling chaotically around them. Nyx shifted, feeling the pressure of unvoiced anguish tightening around her chest. “Leona, we understand how painful this is, but there are connections between us that we’re just beginning to unravel.”

Calliopra stepped forward, clutching the vial as if it were a lifeline, her pulse quickening. Leona turned away, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through her anger. With trembling fingers, Calliopra opened her palm, offering the vial that felt like a curse more than a blessing.

“What is this?” Leona demanded, her fury radiating like heat from a flame.

“Please, just listen,” Calliopra pleaded, her voice cracking under the strain. “This could reveal the truth about Catra… if she……possibly……our daughter.”

Leona's rage ignited even hotter. “You expect me to believe this… this beast is our child!? I don’t care if you drag this ‘Catra’ back to our kingdom since we magicats, never leave one behind. However, I won’t entertain such absurd fantasies. Our daughter is dead!” The declaration echoed, a mournful toll reverberating in the intense silence.

In a moment fraught with despair, Leona hurled the vial to the ground, shattering glass scattering like remnants of their hopes—silencing everything and leaving only the haunting sound of loss. Calliopra felt her heart fracture further, drowning in a torrent of agony that defied comprehension.

As the silence settled, Nyx felt the raw ache of their ruined lives tearing at her insides, unravelling the fragile fabric of their bond. Calliopra turned to Leona, tears glistening in her eyes—a silent plea for understanding. “I’m so sorry I didn’t share this sooner. I thought I was protecting you, sparing you from false hopes, especially since you’ve made such progress in managing your grief these past years. I thought I was being noble, as a mate should be… but now it’s clear that trust matters more than keeping secrets. With regards to Nala, I always prioritise her over my own like any mother should. With this,  I would tell her once we confirmed it—all she deserves is the truth.”

Leona remained silent, her tail lashing against the air, the tension bristling on her fur. She turned sharply, the weight of the moment propelling her toward the door, leaving behind a suffocating atmosphere heavy with unspoken words.

“Leona!” Calliopra cried, her voice breaking in desperation, but Nyx gently placed a hand on her arm, feeling the sharp pang of grief for both women.

“Give her some time,” she urged softly, longing for the impossible—to stitch together the rift that now divided them. “She will understand. Give her space to process this. Before we pursue C'yra, we must first confirm if she truly is C’yra, and then we can plan our next steps.”

They stood in agonising silence, shadows enveloping them like a shroud, the weight of their shared sorrow pressing down with unbearable ferocity. Hope hung suspended in the air, precarious and frail.

Chapter Text

As Glimmer settled into her role as host, her expressions bounced between confidence and anxiety. “Thank you all for coming. After our recent victories against the Horde, I thought we could take a moment to catch up and strategize. It feels good to share some good news,” she began, her voice reflecting a hint of her infectious optimism.

General Juliet, standing tall and steadfast, nodded in agreement. “It’s true. With the substantial damage we dealt to their last fleet and the successful reclaiming of the Western Border between The Fright Zone and Dryl, I had hoped we might see the end of their aggression.” The other princesses exchanged looks of relief. Bow raised his hand, always ready to inject a note of hope.

“We’ve fought hard and shown them our strength,” he added, his black eyes earnest. “They won’t take this lying down, though. We must remain vigilant.”

Mermista leaned forward, her brow furrowing in thought. “But it does feel… quiet, doesn’t it? Too quiet for my liking. I noticed that they pulled out their armies at the Sea Gate, after being there doing nothing but showing their presence. As a whole, the Horde’s been unusually absent, and that makes me uneasy.” Sea Hawk splashed a bit of enthusiasm to break the tension.

“Isn’t it wonderful? A lull in the storm! We might finally get a chance to breathe, maybe even relax!” he exclaimed, eliciting a sigh from Mermista, who shot him a disbelieving glance.

Entrapta, always one to focus on the data, fiddled with her gadgets as she listened. “Breathe? Maybe,” she ventured, tapping at a holographic screen until the air shimmered and a small robotic bird materialised. “But Emily’s picking up some high-frequency signals that indicate shifting patterns in their activity! It’s… it's quite complicated.” Her voice trailed off as she refocused on her screens.

“Emily, show us,” Glimmer smiled at Emily, requesting, her curiosity piqued.

The sphere machine whirred to life, projecting a series of maps and data points into the air. Emily’s mechanical flap opened, and she presented the latest information collected from Entrapta’s extensive hacking. “Beep boop!” 

Entrapta explained what had been shown from Emily. “Current analysis shows a redirection of Horde operations to unidentified sectors. Signal strength is low, but it’s there—somewhere,” the bot chirped, flickering as it projected images of the regions currently in silence.

A murmur of concern swept through the group, and Perfuma’s gentle voice broke the tension. “So, they’re hiding? Or maybe they’re working on something new? Either way, we should bolster our defences in the nearby villages while we try to glean more about their movements.”

Spinnerella, frowning, turned to Netossa. “Could there be a hidden factory or a bunker we haven’t discovered yet?”

Netossa nodded. “It’s possible. The Horde is cunning. They learn from us, adapt, and if they’ve started to change their strategies, we need to be ready for anything.” Her tone was grave, mirroring the atmosphere that had settled over the room.

Glimmer stepped forward, determination infusing her voice. “Then it’s settled. We prepare for the worst while hoping for the best. I want each of you to assess your own regions and fortify them. We’ll share whatever intel we can gather and stick together as always.”

“Count on me!” Adora declared, a flame of resolve igniting in her chest. “I’ll rally the soldiers. We’ve trained hard, and together we can face anything that comes our way.” Bow nodded in agreement, his bow slung across his shoulder as he imagined sharpening his arrows for the battles ahead.

As the meeting progressed, worries of the unknown echoed in their minds, but beneath those concerns lay an iron-clad unity born from hard-fought battles and unyielding friendships. Conversations flowed, strategies formed, and the princesses shared laughter amidst the seriousness—a reminder that they were more than just warriors; they were friends bound together by purpose.

Just then, Entrapta's eyes sparkled with a sudden thought, and she turned to the group, “Oh! And before we move on, I heard something fascinating lately!” she exclaimed, her excitement cutting through the tension. “There’s been talk of a beast prowling the depths of the eastern jungles.”

Mermista crossed her arms incredulously. She was the first to feel sus about the rumour. “What kind of ‘beast’ could even be that terrifying? Sounds like folklore to me…”

Frosta chimed in, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. “Please don’t tell me you’re taking this rumor seriously, like the last time with Bigfoot?” She stood up, puffing out her chest and striking a silly pose in a mock imitation of the legendary creature.

Entrapta, undeterred, waved her hands dismissively. “Maybe it’s folklore, but this isn’t like the Bigfoot stories!”

Perfuma’s curiosity was sparked as a memory surfaced. Compassion washed over her as she spoke, “Seneschal mentioned a creature that has been attacking livestock in the lands of Plumeria. The local villagers expressed their concerns to my kingdom, and I’ve provided them with support for now. The point I want to make is that this rumoured beast might be the same one causing the troubles here. I chose to take a wait-and-see approach, refraining from any immediate action against the animal, as it may simply be in search of a new home or struggling to survive in tough conditions.”

“It could be harmless!” Entrapta chimed in, misreading the alarmed expressions on her friends’ faces. Think of if this is a new discovered species?? “Think of what new data we might learn! We could investigate—”

“No,” Adora replied firmly, shaking her head. Before she could say more, General Juliet interjected. “We need to stay focused. The Horde’s lack of movements are already a significant concern, and we can’t afford to complicate matters with a wandering creature,” she said, her voice laced with frustration.

As Adora settled back in her chair, her thoughts drifted to a familiar name: Catra. She quickly dismissed the thought, convincing herself it was merely a coincidence.

Netossa and Spinnerella exchanged knowing glances, while Frosta absentmindedly played with some snow on the table, refraining from commenting on the rumours that circulated. Mermista crossed her arms and added succinctly, “Okay.”

Glimmer, sensing the sudden shift in mood since she knew how the rumour bothered Adora. Intervened. “Alright then, let’s put the rumours aside for now. We need to prioritise our strategy against how quiet the Horde are still. If anything else comes up, we’ll deal with it. Besides, they can't fight us if we’re prepared.” 

Near the end of the discussion, Bow caught sight of Entrapta, her eyes wide and thoughtful. “Entrapta, anything else we should know?”

Entrapta’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “Absolutely! Even if the Horde is up to something sneaky, we have our own projects in the works. I’ll dive deeper into the data streams and continue to enhance our defences! Who knows what I might invent along the way? Bow, if you’re up for it, I’d love your help testing them once I’ve made some progress!”

At the end,  their spirits slightly lifted, the Princess Alliance stood united, ready to face whatever threats loomed in the dark. Even though they could not see the future, they knew one thing for certain: they would fight together, side by side, for Etheria and each other.

Deep within the whispering woods lies a clearing where trees once stood tall. Here, the remnants of a recent logging operation are evident: robotic machines idle, waiting for their next task, while another tent is pitched nearby. In another part of the area, various sizes of metal cages lie concealed beneath protective coverings, their purpose yet undisclosed. This clandestine operation is orchestrated by none other than the Horde, a scheme that has only recently taken shape and remains unknown to the Princess Alliance.

From afar, the shouts of Grizzlor echo as he conducts his daily afternoon briefings in the form of a workout for the soldiers, usual routine. Meanwhile, inside the main tent—similar in appearance to the other sparse tents scattered around the clearing—a secretive assembly unfolds.

A cadet stands guard outside the tent, which looms large and formidable. Its walls are reinforced by a meticulously tight setup, exuding a quality that surpasses that of the soldiers who occupy lower ranks. Inside, soft light filters through an opalescent screen, complementing the warm glow of a lamp. At the centre of the tent, a large table is strewn with plans, and diagrams, all meticulously organized, where there is an image that has a circle around it with notes.

A digital display board held by backdrop,  flickers to life, capturing the eye with its vibrant array of images and real-time data. It streams information from the robotic machines deployed in the field, relaying messages from distant command centres in the Fright Zone, and gathering vital reports from the systems at play. Currently, the screen showcases a captivating montage of Etheria's wildlife, displaying various animals through the keen lenses of the surveillance bots.

In front of this digital backdrop stands a tall, imposing figure: Commander Octavia. With her striking green-cyan skin and a powerful, muscular build, she exudes authority. Clad in a rugged orange and brown uniform paired with sturdy below-the-knee boots, she is a force to be reckoned with. Now there is an black eye patch wrapped around her left eye, a painful reminder left by the very creature she now hunts.

With a sudden, swift movement, Octavia spins around and slams her fist down onto the physical image of the feline hybrid, which is now her primary target. This isn’t an act of rage; rather, it’s the release of pent-up excitement and anticipation. She’s not just chasing a foe; she’s on the hunt, relishing every moment of the impending confrontation. For Commander Octavia, the thrill of the chase is as intoxicating as the promise of promotion and recognition by Second-in-command Shadow Weaver, herself.

Octavia was engulfed in a whirlwind of triumph, her mind swirling with visions of victory. The acknowledgment from Shadow Weaver and Hordak, along with the satisfaction of exacting revenge on the feral beast she had captured, filled her with exhilaration. Just as she was about to savour the sweet taste of success, her daydream was abruptly shattered by voices drifting in from outside her tent.

“Commander Octavia, you have company,” a cadet guard announced, his tone professional.

With a rustle, the tent flaps parted, and two figures emerged, cloaked in long, dark capes that seemed to swallow the light around them. Octavia was unfazed by this as she knew who they were, as this was part of a scheduled meeting, one that she will have to get through.

The first to step forward was Thorne Ravens, a dark mage whose reputation lingered like a shadow. His piercing blue eyes sparkled with a blend of confidence and mischief. Representing Shadow Weaver, he held a trove of secrets. “Commander Octavia,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, “I’m here on Shadow Weaver’s behalf while she attends to other matters. I come bearing an gift— Hordark's advisor.”

Beside him stood Lucinda Deceit, her presence unsettling, especially since she was not the type to typically venture into the field. With a sharp smile that could cut glass, she leaned casually against a tent pole, arms crossed. “Busy? Oh, I’d say you’re more than busy, Octavia. I’m practically on the edge of my seat, waiting for updates on this operation. Also, I am more than just an advisor to Hordak, pretty boy.”

Octavia’s brow furrowed at the interruption, but she opted to play along. “I suggested you sit on your pretty behind so we can get started, Lucinda.”

Thorne chuckled softly, swiftly taking a seat for himself while Lucinda settled into another, exuding an air of nonchalance that belied the tension in the air. After using a trackpad to connect the digital display screen in front of them, a video interface soon flickered to life, revealing an older man by the name of Dr. Vax Shrapnel, the lead weapons engineer. He was one of the few individuals who had been present during the last meeting that first mentioned this operation.

“Commander Octavia,” Dr Vax began, his voice grating like metal on metal, “I trust this meeting finds you in good spirits despite the grim nature of our task ahead.” His tired eyes assessed the room, taking in the weight of their mission. “Has your camp been fully set up yet And received the deliveries?.”

Octavia nodded, stifling a yawn. “Yes, yes,  we’ve settled into our operational base. We managed to capture about 25% of the animals so far. We are running low on those collars. The most annoying thing about this base is the damn magic in the Whispering wood is proving more troublesome than we anticipated. Thorne, have you or any of your dark mages managed to decipher a way to bypass the chaotic magic of the Whispering Woods? We need a spell to conceal our camp from prying eyes.”

Thorne crossed his arms, his expression grim. “It seems the Whispering Woods, or perhaps the world's magic itself, remains beyond our grasp—even for dark magic. Shadow Weaver is making an effort, but given the timeline Hordak has imposed on us, we may need to resort to more traditional methods. I recommend we set up camouflage shields to obscure the base’s borders.”

Lucinda leaned forward, her sharp smile fading as she joined the conversation. “Going back to the mention of deliveries. Please tell me you haven’t been wasting time with your usual tinkering, Dr. We need results, not excuses.”

Vax’s moustache bristled under her scrutinizing gaze, but he pressed on. “Those are precisely what I’ve been working on. I’ve designed a series of cages in various sizes, reinforced with our strongest materials. Additionally, I’ve developed drones and machines specifically for combat, equipped with extra features to capture the more elusive targets. I’ve also created physical prototype collars and handed them over to you, Mrs. Lucinda. With Mr. Thorne’s assistance, his dark aura powers the enchanted stones—ordinary stones that are by products of our machinery but become solid and effective once infused. These innovations serve a purpose.”

Beneath his cloak, Thorne revealed a collar, its darkened surface marked by intricate mechanisms that hinted at its potential power. It had a certain weight to it, suggesting it was inactive until the embedded chip connected with a living being. The dark mages passed it to Lucinda, who examined it with a spark of interest before handing it to Octavia. While Lucinda took notes, a light conversation unfolded between the technological weaponry and the tall mage. Octavia studied the collar, pondering its limitations in capturing their primary target.

Scepticism welled up inside Octavia. “While this may appear promising for the lesser creatures we seek to control,” she remarked, “I’m not convinced that this ‘toy’ alone can immobilize our hybrid feline long enough to prevent her from unleashing chaos once she grasps what’s happening.” She placed the prototype on the table and let her gaze drift back to the photograph of their target, recalling the creature’s astonishing speed, its elongated legs, and its razor-sharp claws. Suddenly, a thought flickered in her mind—an old idea she had tentatively shelved until now.

“Right, how are we supposed to secure the main target if—” Lucinda began, but Octavia cut her off.

“Dr. Vax,” Octavia interjected, her tone blending reassurance with authority, “do you remember our discussion about a potential prototype specifically for the feline hybrid? I believe we may need that, can you produce this asap. Contact me when it's completed.”

“Yes, I remember. I can certainly start working on it, Commander Octavia,” Dr. Vax replied.

“Good,” Octavia says, a hint of excitement creeping into her voice. “Accelerate production of the collars and the gear for our soldiers. The deadline is fast approaching, so let’s keep that in mind.” Her words carry an unsettling undertone. With that, Dr. Vax departs the meeting to oversee high-volume production.

With the weapons engineer gone, the three remaining Horde leaders turn their focus back to the task at hand. “I will show you both the progress we’ve made,” Octavia declares, leading them outside to the scene in front of the tent.

Chapter Text

Adora and Bow made their way to his father’s home. The path meandered through lush valleys and beside babbling brooks, dotted with wildflowers swaying in the evening breeze. Despite the serene setting, Adora felt a stirring of apprehension in her chest. The fleeting memories of her conversation with Queen Angella loomed large, a tapestry of loss and legacy that she struggled to comprehend. 

“What made you interested in looking into the civilization of the magicats?” Bow asked, glancing at her sideways. His brows were knitted with curiosity, a soft expression that made Adora feel more at home. They had walked this path countless times, but today felt different, charged with anticipation and a hint of fear.

Adora nodded, her resolve firming. “I’ve received visions that link with what Light Hope mentioned the magicats when she spoke about she-ra and runestone. My talk with Queen Angella was little. It made me realise just how little I understand about them. This feels right.”

Bow pushed open the gate to his home, revealing a cosy cottage framed by climbing vines. The walls were painted a cheerful green, and the aroma of freshly baked bread wafted from inside, a testament to the loving care of his father, Lance. The warmth of the place enveloped them as they stepped through the threshold.

“Dad!” Bow called out, his voice echoing with sweet familiarity. Adora felt an immediate comfort in the presence of Lance, the gentleman who welcomed them like family. He appeared from the kitchen, flour dusting his apron, and his face broke into a wide smile.

“There you two are! Just in time for lunch!” George exclaimed, his arms outstretched for a hug that Adora readily welcomed. The soothing embrace felt like a balm to her spirit.

“Thanks, Dad. Where’s Father?,” Bow asked.

‘He is actually out at the moment, but he will be back soon.’ Lance said. 

“Cool. Actually Dad, we really wanted to talk to you about something important,” Bow said, glancing at Adora with a mixture of concern and excitement.

“Important, you say?” Lance raised an eyebrow playfully as they settled at the table. The warmth of the home seemed to cradle Adora, but her heart still raced at what she was about to discuss.

“While I appreciate being allowed access to the Brightmoon library,” Adora began, setting down her fork and turning her full attention to Lance, “I feel like the books there only gives one sided perspective especially since it modern text as it isn’t officially written by the magicats, and also,  I need more than what’s written in books. I want to understand the *Magicats*, and what might have been lost with them.” 

Lance’s expression shifted to one of thoughtful consideration as his brow furrowed. “The magicats—truly extraordinary beings, if you ask me. Long before me and George became historical researchers; I followed the path in archaeology, while your father followed something- can’t remember. I had the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work and study in Halfmoon Kingdom. It was a place unlike any other, with its imposing walls standing guard over a vibrant community.”

Adora leaned in, intrigued. “What was it like?”

“The land was breath-taking,” Lance said, his eyes sparkling with memories. “Alive with enchantment, and the queens… they were remarkably gracious. I still remember their names: Queen Leona and Calliopra. As part of our research, we engaged with the locals, immersing ourselves in their culture. I even had the privilege of meeting powerful mages who unveiled their precious runestone to us, from a distance, since that was their kingdom's previous runestone.”

“That sounds amazing!” Bow exclaimed. “I didn’t know you studied archaeology... and that you were at Halfmoon Kingdom at one point!”

Lance chuckled softly. “It’s because you never ask, my boy.” He took a sip of tea, then continued, a wistful smile illuminating his face. “It wasn’t just their power that captivated me; it was their way of life.”

Bow comments “Since you met the people, do they have magical abilities hence in their name - magicat?

Lance said, ‘Yes, they not only spoke English but they also have their very own language called Magjca - although mine was very basic but it brought those older folks a smile to their faces when they spoke only Magjca. I’ve learned that some magicats would have basic abilities that wouldn't make them skilled mages. In fact in older texts, it says that the magicats were the one who were the founding fathers of a sorcerer's circle that became Mystacor today.’

Adora felt a spark of amazement. “What?! So the founding members from Halfmoon, were the ones who made Mystacor… How come there isn’t much mentioned?’

Lance 's brow furrowed in deep thought. After a moment, he brushed a strand of hair from his forehead and said, 'Most likely due to it being downplayed by those who didn’t want them to be known in Mystacor in the early days - by downplaying their parts in their texts and lessons there. Racism is a factor. 

Adora took a sip of her drink, the cool refreshment momentarily distracting her from a cloud of uncertainty that lingered over the table. Staring down at her half-finished glass, she felt a mix of anticipation and hesitation. Where should she even begin her quest for answers about the elusive magicats?

Bow, sensing her unease, reached across the table and took her hand in his, offering a comforting anchor amidst the swirling doubts. “You know, being here is the perfect first step,” he said softly, his voice steady and reassuring. “If you’re ready to dig deeper into your search, what about those old dusty textbooks? They might still hold some secrets.”

Lance , who had been lost in thought, snapped to attention, a spark igniting in his eyes. “Absolutely! Those books aren’t as dusty as you might think! It was a good thing that back then, I’ve translated some texts as - my god - my reading in Magjca is very dusty and questionable now.  If we can unravel the insights packed away in those pages, it could illuminate the path for you, Adora.”

With that, Lance sprang into action, headed towards the basement in search of the ancient books. Adora leaned in closer to Bow, squeezing his hand tightly. “Do you really think we’ll find something that can unravel the visions swirling in my mind?”

Bow grinned, his eyes lighting up with a flicker of hope. “We won’t know until we dive in, but I believe if anyone can breathe life into those dusty pages, it’s my dad. He’s practically a living archive of knowledge.”

Adora chuckled softly, a sense of optimism blooming in her chest. “With his enthusiasm, who knows what mysteries we might uncover?”

“Just hang tight!” Lance’s voice echoed from the depths of the basement, tinged with excitement. “I’m sure I left those texts piled near the old map scrolls!”

“Take your time, Dad! We’ll finish our lunch and keep our conversations lively while we wait!” Bow called back, turning to Adora with a playful glint in his eyes. “Once we’re done eating, let’s get ready to dive into the world of knowledge—mind maps and papers included, just like you love it!”

Adora laughed, the spark of determination igniting within her. “Absolutely! We have to give it our all.”

As the three of them prepared their makeshift workspace in the cosy living room, a charged anticipation swirled in the air, setting the stage for the discoveries that lay just around the corner. Together, they stood on the precipice of a deeper understanding, ready to uncover the hidden truths that might finally unlock the mysteries of her visions.

The warm glow of natural light poured through the ornate stained glass windows of the Half Dawn Kingdom's formerly New Halfmoon, since the council decided with the new location of their kingdom, it needed a different name as part of moving forward. This was also voted by their citizens. In the grand hall, casting vibrant patterns on the polished stone floor. Calliopra had just finished an audience with several community members, each seeking guidance, each sharing laughter and woes, but Nala craved a moment of solitude, a retreat into the familiarity of her mother’s presence. 

“Mum,” Nala began, her voice a soft breeze, almost lost within the grandeur of the hall, “I’ve made progress with my mentor. The lessons have been… illuminating.” Her bright green eyes sparkled with excitement as she spoke, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed a hint of vulnerability. “I believe I’m starting to understand the nuances of natural magic.”

Calliopra’s smile was both warm and bittersweet, her eyes glimmering with a whirlwind of emotions. “Ah, the fundamentals of natural magic,” she mused, a distant look crossing her face. “I remember the thrill of discovering that magic for the first time! It's like learning to dance with the elements themselves—each step brings you closer to understanding the world.” 

Nala chuckled lightly, shaking her head. “Please, Mum, no memory train today!” She teased, her laughter filling the hall, eager for the attention to shift back to her. 

Without hesitation, Calliopra gestured gracefully, summoning her magic. Water swirled around Nala like a dancer, pirouetting and gliding through the air, evoking gasps of wonder from any passing servants. 

“That’s beautiful!” Nala exclaimed, her own hands mimicking the flow. She poured her concentration into the spell, but as she attempted to replicate her mother’s grace, the water erupted in a splash, dousing the table with an unintended sheen. “Dammit!” she laughed, quickly scrambling to mop up the mess with an enchanted cloth. “At least the table got cleaned, right?” 

Calliopra’s laughter joined her daughters as she shook her head, the smirk on her face belaying the thoughts dancing in her mind—if she wondered how her own day would unfold as she watched her daughter blossom. 

“What do you feel you’ve learned, dear?” Calliopra inquired, leaning closer, the weight of their relationship enveloping them in a cocoon of trust and understanding.

Nala paused, her brow furrowing in contemplation. “I… I was actually wondering,” she confessed, her heart beating faster, “If I could request permission to go up to the surface and explore…. natural ingredients for extending my studies on natural ingredients with spellcasting. My mentor mentioned some near the high priest gardens, but they just aren’t the same as what I’ve seen in the older reference books I’ve taken out from the library.”

Calliopra raised an eyebrow, concerned about flooding her expression. “But Nala, our Kingdom is rich with herbs and plants that serve so many purposes… Why risk the journey to the surface?”

Nala took a breath, her eyes lighting up with passion. “Because it’s not just about seeing the plants, Mum! It’s about touching them—the feel of the warm soil beneath my fingers, the gentle whisper of the wind through the leaves. I yearn to travel, to embrace the world beyond the underground.This kingdom is lovely, but there’s a vast expanse waiting for us—stories from those who recall life on the surface, the rich history, and the vibrant illustrations depicting the wonders of the other kingdoms. There’s so much more to discover!”

Just then, Nyx, with her sunlit hair and energetic spirit, burst into the hall, her voice rising like a melody. “Hello, your majesties!” she chimed, her infectious enthusiasm brightening the room. “Nala, you won’t believe what I saw when I went to Thaymor earlier!” 

Nala seized the moment, her heart racing with newfound determination. “Nyx, you could take me to the surface, right? I mean, since you have experience up there and know where not to go, is there a chance we could plan to pop up there together? Plus I’m grown up now, meaning I can also defend myself.” Her eyes sparkled with hope, fuelled by the prospect of adventure. “Tell me about Thaymor! Maybe that could be the first place we could—”

But Calliopra’s voice rang out, clear and resonant, slicing through their banter like an arrow. “Nala, it’s not the time. For the time being, your request is denied. Don’t think of asking your mother behind my back as she would stand on this too,” she declared, her tone firm but heavy with unspoken fear. 

Surprised, Nala felt a wave of betrayal wash over her, a tide dragging her excitement out to sea. “Mum, why? I—”

Her words hung in the air, thickening as she cowered beneath her mother's stern gaze. Without waiting for an answer, Nala turned away, tears threatening to spill over. “I’ll… I’ll see you later,” she mumbled, barely above a whisper, as she slipped from the room, her dreams of adventure crashing against the rugged cliffs of her mother’s love.

Nyx, sensing the palpable tension, shifted beside Calliopra. “Calli,” she began, her tone earnest, “you’ve been an incredible leader and an even better friend. I was once just a soldier, then an advisor, but it never felt right until I became your personal guard. My father respected you deeply and admired your ambition, as did Queen Leona. That’s why I’ve stayed by your side.” 

Calliopra looked at Nyx, gratitude mingling with sorrow in her eyes. Still quiet as Nyx was saying, “I understand why you object to Nala going to the surface. You don’t want to lose her,”

Nyx continued gently. “But the more you push her away, the more she’ll feel confined, stifled even... It’s okay to set boundaries, but she needs to understand your fears. I see the pain from losing C’yra—the child you lost—but Nala isn’t C’yra. She’s strong, and she knows what to do if she gets into trouble.”

Calliopra gave a small, weary smile, nodding thoughtfully as she absorbed Nyx’s words. “You’re right,” she admitted with heavy honesty, her voice just above a whisper. “Nala is an adult now. It’s complicated, though, especially with the current unrest surrounding the lost feral magicat…”

Nyx’s eyes flickered with compassion as Calliopra grasped her hand, her grip firm yet vulnerable. “Your father, Sir Thorn Applefang, would have been proud of you for the person you’ve become, Nyx. Watching over you from the skies, I’m sure,” she murmured, her eyes glistening with a mix of pride and melancholy.

As they shared a moment of camaraderie, the weight of their past seemed to lift, if only slightly. They both knew the time had come to attend a gathering with the High Mage, where secrets roiled beneath the surface. Both women felt the urgency, especially regarding the lost magicat named C’yra—their beloved yet tragic connection to the past. 

As they prepared to leave, Calliopra glanced at the glass jar resting securely in her pocket, where a tuft of fur, remnants of Leona’s wrath, survived. It served as a constant reminder of the dangers that loomed not only outside their rocky walls but within their hearts, waiting for the right moment to strike.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting orange hues over the lush landscape of Bright Moon. Hours had slipped away since George had arrived, bringing not only his formidable skills in lore and strategy but also an air of camaraderie that felt both refreshing and nostalgic. With Bow, Adora, and Lance gathered around a table strewn with ancient scrolls and texts, the palpable energy of curiosity beckoned to them all.

Bow leaned over an intricate scroll, his brow furrowed in concentration. “This inscription here mentions a ‘Kaalan’ he mumbled, his finger tracing the faded letters. “But I can’t find any context for it in the other texts.”

Across the table, George and Lance were deeply engaged in a spirited discussion, animated gestures punctuating their exchange. They were dissecting a specific passage from one of the older texts that had sparked their interest. With his brow furrowed in concentration, George read aloud, “But what of this interpretation? I’m telling you, it means ‘might’—as in strength or power,” he insisted, his hands moving expressively to emphasise his points.

“Oh, please!” Lance shot back, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Just because your interpretation leans on some romantic whim doesn’t make it valid.” He pointed at George’s arm, where a tattoo of the First Ones was proudly displayed. “And let’s not forget—you’re sporting that tattoo, which, according to Adora’s translation, actually means lunch, not love.” Since they discovered the amusing mix-up, the meaning of George’s tattoo had become a running joke between the two husbands, fuelling their banter with laughter and camaraderie.

A brief silence enveloped the room, and Adora couldn’t help but stifle a giggle. George, always one to joke, appeared genuinely taken aback, his finger hovering mid-air in defence mode. The playful teasing served as a welcome distraction from the intensity of their work.

“Guys, focus,” Adora interjected, her voice slicing through the playful banter. It reminded her of the camaraderie that existed among friends, a bond strengthened through shared journeys. It fuelled her resolve.

With fierce determination, she flipped through the pages of yet another worn scroll, her eyes shimmering with excitement as she scanned the intricate illustrations. The parchment was adorned with delicate images that captured scenes of ancient magicats in training, alongside depictions of these mystical beings undergoing transformation into larger, more powerful forms, intertwined with swirling magical energies. “Look at this!” she exclaimed, pointing emphatically at an illustration of a beast, its piercing blue eyes staring back at them with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

Reignited with curiosity, Bow leaned in closer, his brow furrowing with concentration. “What is it, Adora?”

“This creature… it’s illustrated in such a striking manner,” she exclaimed, her voice filled with awe. “The eyes—they resemble those I encountered in my vision.”

Adora turned to Lance, who was joined by George as they approached. “Lance, earlier you mentioned that magicats have the ability to transform. Is this what you were referring to?”

Handing the scroll to the older gentleman, she eagerly awaited Lance's insight as he examined the parchment intently.

Lance glanced up, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Magicats share a profound connection with their inner beasts. That transformation isn’t merely a matter of talent; it demands rigorous training and a deep introspection. The ability to harness such change hinges on compassion, bravery, and self-restraint. In essence, it represents their true selves—the feline aspect of their hybrid DNA.”

Adora nodded slowly, feeling the weight of Bow's words settle deep within her. “Maybe these visions are pointing to something else entirely,” she mused, her brow furrowing in thought. “Perhaps I need to explore more about who I truly am. It’s a journey toward understanding my own legacy.”

“Exactly!” Bow exclaimed, leaning in closer with an infectious enthusiasm. “Diving into the history of Half Moon Kingdom might seem like a detour, even something unnecessary, but think about it—this knowledge could help you become the She-Ra who truly understands her place in this world.” His warm, encouraging gaze bolstered her spirits, and a small spark ignited in her heart.

Adora glanced at her friends—Bow, George, and Lance—feeling a sense of camaraderie that felt like family. “You know,” she began, a smile creeping onto her face, “I’ve learned so much, even if Lance insists on calling it 'fun research.” Lance laughs before he was elbowed by George. 

She stood and stretched, her body loosening as excitement surged within her. “I feel like now, I want to shift my focus back to what She-Ra needs next for Etheria.” She looked around the room, her friends' faces glowing with support. “I do wonder, what it would have been like if Halfmoon still existed”

Lance pulled George into a hug, feeling the weight of the unfulfilled wish leave his shoulders. He too wished for the magicats' kingdom to still exist.

With a collective sigh of determination, the group set about tidying the scrolls and remnants of their exploration. They rolled the ancient texts with care, their laughter began to spread, and chatter about everyone’s plans after today mingled in the air like harmonious melodies. 

Chapter Text

The room was shrouded in a soft, muted glow, the kind that seemed to cradle secrets and whispers alike. It was a sacred space, a sanctum for powerful mages who delved into the very fabric of magic itself. Today, however, it was imbued with a different kind of energy entirely—one that crackled with emotion, a palpable tension that hung in the air like a thundercloud waiting to burst. This space belonged to Mystra, a mage revered not only for her prowess but also for her discretion, as today’s gathering was steeped in urgency and heartbreak.

As Nyx and Queen Calliopra approached the door, they exchanged a fleeting glance that betrayed the tumult of feelings roiling within them. With a hesitant knock, the door creaked open to reveal a familiar face—a kindred spirit who ushered them into the heart of uncertainty.

Inside, they found Mystra engaged in a quiet conversation with Queen Leona. The latter’s regal demeanour seemed to tremble with barely contained resentment, the aftermath of recent revelations still fresh and raw. A secret, kept under the guise of protection, now wrapped itself around them like a creeping vine—stifling and suffocating. The two queens had yet to confront the lingering feelings that hung between them, their hearts weighed down by unspoken words.

“Ah, Queen Calliopra and Miss Nyx,” Mystra acknowledged, her voice warm yet sombre. “I was just speaking with Queen Leona about matters of utmost importance,” she continued, offering a stiff smile that seemed to mask the depth of the shared turmoil.

In the vast expanse of the room, there was a brief silence before Mystra resumed, "I've prepared everything you might need, taking into account the cryptic message I received." Now, tell me, what brings you both to my door?” Her voice held a tone of professionalism that bordered on clinical, yet the gravity of the situation seeped through.

Before Queen Calliopra could respond, Queen Leona pierced the silence, her voice trembling with a fervent urgency. "We need you to conduct a spell using our samples to determine if they connect with..." she implored, her words laced with desperation as she paused. Typically, her confidence shone through with each utterance, but this moment felt entirely different.

Queen Calliopra, sensing the emotional turmoil, intertwined her tails with Leona’s, a gesture of solidarity that spoke volumes of shared heartbreak. They were united, ready to confront their past.

Nyx inhaled deeply, her voice trembling with a mix of steadiness and vulnerability as she recounted their predicament. “Mystra, we’ve found a lost magicat living freely in the wild. We later learned her name is Catra. I—no, we believe she might be the long-lost Princess C'yra, the daughter of the queens. This is more than just identity. It’s a matter of emotional turmoil and long-held pain.” Each word resonated in the dimly lit room, carrying the weight of lost hope and desperate longing.

Mystra listened intently, her gaze unwavering, understanding the enormity of what lay before them. “I will treat this venture with the utmost seriousness and compassion. I will require samples from both of you, Queen Calliopra and Queen Leona.”

With trembling hands, Queen Calliopra retrieved a small lock of her hair, a piece of herself wrapped lovingly in one hand, and gently passed it to Mystra. The air felt thick with unspoken fears as Mystra turned to Leona, whose heart was still mired with regret.

In a moment of quiet resilience, Queen Leona hastily untied the metal cuff that bound her long ponytail, allowing her dark hair to cascade around her serious face. With precise delicacy, she took a small portion of her hair and severed it, her sharp talons glinting in the light. As she handed the piece to Mystra, the act embodied a poignant blend of sorrow and resolve, fully aware of the significance it held. Meanwhile, Queen Calliopra experienced a flicker of realisation, sensing the depth of the moment.

“I believe I have what you need,” Queen Calliopra acted before Mystra asked for the final item. Queen Calliopra’s voice breaks through the tension like a fragile whisper. She reached into her pocket and retrieved a small tuft of fur, matted and stained—a patch of innocence interwoven with the wild heart it belonged to. “This was given to me by Nyx. It belonged to the feral magicat.”

“May I?” Mystra asked softly, her hands reaching out as if to cradle their fragile hopes. Calliopra placed the fur into Mystra’s hands, a connection forged through love, sorrow, and yearning.

Leona’s heart constricted at the sight of the fur, a painful reminder of her own reckless despair. The fragments of her own grief intertwined with Calliopra’s anguish as she silently mourned the ire that had caused her to shatter the jar and the vision of a daughter long thought dead.

Mystra’s hands trembled slightly, the very essence of their shared longing pooling in the atmosphere as she arranged the samples into a delicate interplay of overlapping circles. "I will begin the spell," she intoned, her voice imbued with a mix of reverence and foreboding. "But heed my warning: what is unveiled may not be what you anticipate, and it could even bring unwelcome tidings."

Mystra closed her eyes, energy pulsating around her like a living entity. Each word she spoke resonated through the room, weaving a connection to everyone in the room.The air shimmered and flickered, as though the whole room warped with the colours waves around from the spell.

At last, as the final syllable faded into silence, a gentle light pulsed from the table, illuminating the space around it, and a vision began to materialise. A young magicat wandered through the ancient halls of Halfmoon Castle, its tinkling laughter echoing warmly and awakening something profound within the queens. Queen Leona felt her breath catch in her throat but managed to maintain a composed expression, betraying none of the emotions brewing beneath the surface.

The image of the young child, the magical princess C’yra, transformed before their eyes into a wild, full-grown figure, roaming through sun-dappled trees—graceful yet fierce. Gasps echoed around them as the sudden transformation shattered the silence of the spell portal. Their long-lost daughter stood revealed in all her raw splendour, alive yet untamed, a glittering beacon of lost hope. The joyous thrill of discovery swiftly morphed into an unbearable weight, crushing their hearts under the immense realisation of everything they had lost.

“C’yra…” Calliopra’s voice broke as she sank to her knees, grief sweeping over her like an incoming tide, drowning her in years of sorrow and longing. “My daughter…” The words were torn from her soul, a symphony of despair that echoed into the stillness of the room.

Leona stood frozen, her anger intertwined with a deep, pulsing guilt. “How could this be?” she managed to choke out, her voice rugged and raw, echoing the turmoil within her. “All this time, I believed she was gone…” She paused, agony etched on her face. With both fists clenched tightly at her sides, she struggled to contain her emotions. Then, before she could fully process her thoughts, she spoke sharply, the words spilling out in a rush, a reflection of the chaos raging inside her.

“Shadow Weaver—she’s the one responsible for this!” Her fist struck the nearby wall, sending a network of cracks spider webbing across the surface. Queen Leona remained still, her head bowed in resignation.

Queen Calliopra’s sobs echoed in the dim light, the sound a haunting melody of grief and loss. Nyx stood solemnly beside her, a silent guardian, until she saw Queen Leona move toward them from the wall. As Queen Leona approached, Nyx instinctively stepped back, creating a sacred space for the two souls bound by love and heartache.

Queen Calliopra, lost in the depths of her anguish, remained oblivious to Queen Leona's approach until strong arms wrapped around her, creating a cocoon of warmth that seemed to shield them from the turmoil of the world beyond. Time stood still; the cacophony of life outside faded to a dull whisper as the melody of their hearts resonated in harmony, connected even within the abyss of their sorrow.

“Our dear C’yra… I don’t know what to feel,” Leona murmured, her voice quaking with emotion, each word an incantation that begged the universe to ease the burden of her fractured heart. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions swirled within her—grief for the child she had believed lost and a flicker of joy at the realisation that her wild, primal daughter was alive. But at that moment, clarity eluded her, tangled in a web of pain and uncertainty.

In the fragile embrace of Leona, Calliopra clung desperately. Their connection was a balm for aching hearts, a reminder that even in the depths of heartbreak, love could break through the suffocating shroud of grief. But reality pressed upon them; they'd have to confront the unspeakable truth. Their first obligation lay before them—the need to share this profound revelation with their daughter, Nala.

Not far from where they stood, Nyx and Mystra found themselves ensnared in their own tempest, torn between hope and heartache. The air was charged with the electricity of possibility, a fragile pulse of optimism ignited by the mere fact that C’yra was alive—an ember flickering defiantly against the walls of this room.

Later that night:

Calliopra stood before the mirror, her breath shallow as she grappled with the delicate silk gown that clung to her like a second skin. Fingers trembling with an urgent, raw intensity, she struggled to fasten the laces at her back. This was no grand event, no ball or feast; rather, she was preparing for an unplanned journey. Every tug of the laces at her back seemed to choke her, each pull tightening the knot of dread that twisted deeper into her chest. The gown shimmered in the dim light, a deep, restless azure that caught the light with every movement—but it felt suffocating. Everything felt suffocating.

Her mind was a cyclone of rage, worry, and desperation, all crashing together in a storm of unrelenting need—Find her, no matter the cost. Calliopra could feel her pulse in her throat, feel the world blurring around her as the weight of the task ahead pressed down on her. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Not another day, not another hour.

The door creaked open, shattering the quiet like a violent blow, and Calliopra froze. Her heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. She hadn’t wanted anyone to see her like this—broken, fraying, on the verge of losing control.

Leona stepped into the room, her silhouette framed by the soft light of dusk, casting a halo of shadows around her. She was a presence, a force—sharp and dangerous. Her eyes locked with Calliopra’s, and in that instant, the air between them shifted. It was charged, suffocating, thick with the weight of everything unspoken.

Calliopra’s fingers faltered on the laces, her grip tightening. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to steady herself or hold on to the last shred of control she had. Every movement felt like a battle. She turned slowly to face her mate, the golden light casting shadows across her face, revealing the raw fear in her eyes. It was the fear she had tried so hard to keep buried, the fear that Leona saw all too clearly now.

“Calliopra.” Leona’s voice was low, steady, but there was an edge to it that sliced through the air between them, cutting deep. The intensity of Leona’s gaze made Calliopra’s pulse quicken, her heart drumming wildly in her chest. Leona moved toward her, her presence overwhelming, inevitable. The storm was about to break between them.

“What are you doing?” Leona’s voice cracked with the unspoken question. She looked her up and down, the tension in her posture unmistakable. “Where are you going?”

The words were like a jolt of ice water, snapping Calliopra from her swirling thoughts. She swallowed, but the knot in her throat refused to loosen. Slowly, her fingers released the lace, the soft sound of it unravelling in the stillness echoing painfully in her ears.

“I—” Calliopra choked on the words, her voice breaking, raw with unshed tears. She forced herself to look at Leona, her eyes wide with a desperation she could no longer hide. “I can’t wait anymore. I can’t—I have to find her.”

The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in as Leona’s gaze softened, but there was no softness in her resolve. Her eyes flickered with a mixture of understanding and something fiercer—something that anchored Calliopra to the moment, as if the force of her will could hold the world at bay.

Leona stepped closer, her voice calm but unyielding, her words cutting through the panic that churned in Calliopra’s gut. “I know,” she said, her voice like a steady anchor in the midst of the storm, “but rushing in without a plan… it won’t help her. It won’t help any of us. We need to be ready—everything needs to be in place. For what’s coming.”

Calliopra’s breath caught in her throat, the weight of them crashing down on her. There was no escaping them. No escaping the truth. But then, Leona’s hand moved. She reached out, not with words, but with a simple, silent touch—her fingers grazing the bare skin of Calliopra’s spine, a shock of warmth and electricity that sent a wave of raw emotion crashing through her.

It was a touch that spoke everything. It was a promise—silent but unbreakable—that they weren’t doing this alone. Not anymore.

Calliopra closed her eyes, her breath ragged, her chest tight. She fought to keep the sobs at bay, but they clawed at her throat, desperate to break free. She opened her eyes again, the sharp sting of her tears only just held back. She exhaled slowly, her voice a whisper now, barely audible, but it was steady. “You’re right,” she said, her voice breaking at the edges but more focused now. “We need to process. We need to be ready.” She lifted her eyes to meet Leona’s, clearer now, sharper with purpose. “I don’t know how C’yra will react to being here... we need to be prepared. We need help… from professionals. To make the transition. From the wild... to here.”

The weight of the words settled between them, thick with the truth of it all—the truth they couldn’t deny anymore.

Leona nodded, the flicker of something deep and fierce in her gaze as she crossed the room, sitting beside Calliopra on the bed. The silk sheets slid beneath them like water, but neither of them noticed. They were lost in the moment, the quiet space they had carved out in the midst of their pain. The world outside faded, the endless, grinding search for their daughter slipping away into nothingness, leaving only them.

For just a moment, there was nothing but them—two women, bound by love, by loss, and by a promise that could never be broken.

Calliopra’s tails curled around Leona’s legs, instinctively seeking warmth, seeking comfort. The touch was small, intimate—but it was enough. Enough to remind them both that even in the darkest hours, even in the heart of the storm, they would not face it alone. Together. They would face it together.

A single tear fell down Leona’s brown furry cheek. "Do you think she knows?" Leona’s voice broke through the heavy silence, raw and trembling.  It was a question that had been gnawing at her, tugging at the edges of her mind, and now, spoken aloud, it hung between them like a fragile thread. "C’yra, I mean. Do you think she knows who she is?"

Calliopra’s breath caught in her throat, and she shook her head slowly. Her eyes were glassy, shimmering with the weight of unshed tears. "I don’t know," she whispered, her voice trembling with the unbearable uncertainty that had been clawing at her for days. "I don’t know if she remembers, if she even can remember. But we have to find out. We have to bring her home, Leona. C’yra has been alone enough."

The words were almost a plea, a desperate reaching out into the abyss. She wanted to believe that C’yra was out there, waiting to be found, but every passing day, every hour that stretched on without her, made the truth more terrifying. What if they didn’t know her anymore? What if she had forgotten them?

Leona’s grip on Calliopra’s hand tightened suddenly, the force of it grounding her, pulling her back from the edge. It was a silent affirmation of her words, of the promise they both knew was now inevitable. "And Nala?" Leona asked, her voice softer now, but heavy with the weight of the question. "How do we tell her?"

Calliopra's stomach twisted in knots at the thought of revealing the truth to Nala. The prospect of shattering the delicate world she had carefully constructed was almost unbearable. She hadn’t even begun to process it herself. "I don’t know, Leona," she confessed, her voice trembling as the weight of the moment settled in. "How do you tell a child that their sibling has been alive all this time?" Her voice cracked with emotion, and she swallowed hard against the rising tide of grief.

Leona reached for her hand, offering a reassuring squeeze. "We'll face this together," she said gently. "Nala deserves the truth just as much as we do. She’s a smart and perceptive girl; she’ll be relieved to know that C’yra is alive. It may take time for her to adjust to having her sister back in our lives, but together we can navigate this as a complete family."

Calliopra nodded, her eyes reflecting the same resolve. "Together," she echoed, her voice firm.

For a brief moment, they sat in silence, the only sound the soft rustle of fabric as Calliopra’s tails shifted restlessly. Then, without warning, Leona leaned in, her lips lightly grazing Calliopra’s in a tender kiss that conveyed the depth of their years together, filled with love and devotion.

🍑

Calliopra gasped, her body responding instinctively to the contact. She wrapped her arms around Leona, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. The taste of her, the warmth of her body, it was everything Calliopra had been craving, a balm for her aching soul.

Leona moaned softly, her hands sliding up to cup Calliopra's face. "Calli," she murmured against her lips, "we need this. We need each other."

Calliopra nodded, her heart swelling with emotion. "Yes," she whispered, her voice trembling with need. "Please, Leona."

Leona pulled back slightly, her eyes dark with desire. "Anything for you," she promised, her voice a low growl. With a deft motion, she began to undress Calliopra, her hands moving with practised ease.

Calliopra shivered as Leona's fingers brushed against her skin, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through her body. She helped Leona remove her own clothes, their movements synchronised, a dance of trust and passion.

Soon, they were both naked, the cool air of the room a stark contrast to the heat radiating from their bodies. Calliopra lay back on the bed, pulling Leona down with her. Their bodies pressed together, skin against skin, the connection electric.

Leona kissed her way down Calliopra's neck, her tongue darting out to taste the salty sweetness of her skin. Calliopra arched her back, her breath hitching as Leona's teeth grazed her collarbone. "Leona," she gasped, her voice strained with desire.

Leona looked up, her eyes smouldering with lust. "Tell me what you want," she demanded, her voice husky.

Calliopra bit her lip, her eyes darkening with need. "I want you," she confessed, her voice raw. "I want you inside me."

Leona's heart skipped a beat at the intensity in Calliopra's gaze. She positioned herself between Calliopra's legs, her cock hard and throbbing with anticipation. She lined herself up with Calliopra's entrance, her breath catching as she felt the wet heat of her lover's arousal.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice trembling with the effort of restraint.

Calliopra nodded, her eyes locked onto Leona's. "Yes," she breathed, her voice filled with conviction. "Now, Leo. Please."

With a groan of surrender, Leona pushed forward, her cock sliding into Calliopra's tight heat. They both cried out at the sensation, the feeling of being joined almost too much to bear. Leona paused, giving Calliopra a moment to adjust, her hands braced on either side of her lover's head.

Calliopra's unsheathed nails dug into Leona's back, her hips bucking up to meet her thrust. "Don't stop," she pleaded, her voice a mix of pain and pleasure.

Leona began to move, slowly at first, savouring the feel of Calliopra's body clenching around her. Each thrust was deliberate, designed to wring every ounce of pleasure from the act. Calliopra's cries grew louder, her body arching off the bed with each stroke.

"Faster," Calliopra’s bagged, her voice breaking with need. "Please, Leo, faster."

Leona complied, picking up the pace until they were both lost in a whirlwind of sensation. Calliopra's legs wrapped around her waist, pulling her deeper, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. Leona's breath came in ragged gasps, her vision blurring with the intensity of the moment.

"Calliopra," she cried out, her voice raw with emotion. "I can't hold back."

Calliopra's eyes fluttered open, her gaze filled with love and desperation. "Don't," she whispered. "Come for me, Leo. We need this."

That was all it took. With a shout of release, Leona came, her body shuddering with the force of her orgasm. Calliopra followed shortly after, her own climax cresting in a wave of ecstasy that left her breathless and trembling.

They collapsed together, their bodies entwined, the world outside forgotten. For a moment, there was only them, their hearts beating in unison, their breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath of passion.

🍑

"Leona," Calliopra murmured, her voice soft and content. "I love you."

Leona smiled, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on Calliopra's back. "I love you too," she replied, her voice filled with tenderness.

But even as they lay there, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, the weight of their responsibilities loomed large. They knew that soon, they would have to rise, to face the challenges ahead. But for now, they allowed themselves this one moment of peace, a brief respite in the storm of their lives.

"Tomorrow," Leona said, her voice resolute. "We'll tell Nala tomorrow."

Calliopra nodded, her heart heavy with the promise. "Tomorrow," she agreed, her voice filled with determination.

For now, though, they had tonight. And tonight, they would hold each other close, finding strength in their shared love and the knowledge that, no matter what came, they would face it together.

Chapter Text

The sun was just beginning to rise over the Whispering Woods, casting soft golden rays through the curtains of Madame Razz’s cosy cottage. Inside, the aroma of freshly baked pie hung tenderly in the air, wafting through the quiet room like a happy song. Madame Razz, with her wild hair and spirited personality, hummed to herself as she bustled about, her hands dusted with flour and her spirit light as a feather.

“Oh, the world just won’t be the same without a slice of my famous berry pie!” she chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She padded over to the little wooden table by the window, where the bowl was full of freshly picked blueberries.

However, as she peered out the window, her heart sank. The table was empty. The empty bowl remained.

“By the Bright Moon! Where’s my berries?” she exclaimed, scanning the garden outside. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Those little rascals!” she deemed, suspecting the forest squirrels were to blame.

Madame Razz grinned, her determination sparking like fireflies. “If I’m going to enjoy my berry pie, I suppose I’ll have to pick more berries again soon!” 

The next day:

After several joyful moments filled with laughter and berry picking, Madame Razz rested outside the table, where she placed the new bowl full of berries. The sweet fragrance drifted through the air once again, enticing. However, this time, as she went inside her cottage, to busied herself with some enchanted plants, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye.

A tall, brown tail flicked in the direction of her berries. With a gleam of mischief in her eye, Madame Razz whipped around only to find—

“Squirrels!” she crowed. “Not again!” Grabbing her trusty broom, she brandished it like a knight preparing for battle and dashed out of the cottage, ready to ward off her furry foes.

As she emerged into the sunlight, Madame Razz saw not the usual band of raiding squirrels. Instead, a wild creature stood before her, eyes sharp and glimmering in the dappled light. It was a creature of some kind, a mix of feline grace and feral energy; she remained poised and tense, her muscular form coiling like a spring ready to launch into action.

Its features were both beautiful and feral, her ears pricked up and her dark, sharp eyes focused on the pie before it went on the strange old woman. Thick fur bristled at her back as she emitted a low growl, baring her teeth—a warning or perhaps a challenge.

To her surprise, instead of fear, excitement bubbled up within Madame Razz. “Oh, my goodness! You’re not just a!?” she exclaimed, her heart running wild with delight. “You’re simply marvellous!”

Catra regarded her with a mix of wariness and intrigue, emitting a low growl that dripped with defiance. Undeterred, Madame Razz took a step closer, broom lowered as a gesture of goodwill. “I mean you no harm, dearie! I thought you might be those thieving squirrels again”.

Catra hesitated, the growl fading as curiosity warred with instinct. The inviting warmth of Madame Razz’s presence coaxed her forward, her keen eyes flicking between the old woman and the table where the berries sat temptingly.

Madame Razz chuckled softly, her voice a melody of friendliness. “I see you like blueberries! I have plenty to share!” She gestured animatedly, welcoming Catra into her world with open arms. “Come, dearie! You seem hungry.”

Catra cocked her head, her defences lowering ever so slightly. The warmth of the cottage enveloped her, drawing her closer. With each story Madame Razz spun about her adventures in the forest, her dear friend Mara and some random things that Catra herself didn’t understand but still found herself captivated. The old woman's charm was a balm to her heart, melting away layers of caution until she felt almost at home.

“You’re quite the unique individual,” Madame Razz remarked with a playful wink. 

Time slipped by unnoticed. But as her impatience grew, Catra decided it was time to retreat from this comfort to the wild. With an elegant twitch of her tail, she leaped through the window,  a soft rumble of frustration escaping her as she reclaimed her distance.

Madame Razz watched her go, a pang of disappointment tugging at her heart. “Oh, dearie,” she murmured to herself, a warm smile still lingering on her lips despite Catra’s departure. “You should have stayed for a slice of pie, princess.”

With a soft sigh, Madame Razz returned to her cottage, the breeze whispering through the trees. Bird songs were heard in the distance, and the forest seemed to chatter endlessly, much like the stories hidden in her heart. She had pie to enjoy, things to tend to, and perhaps the hope that one day, her new ‘friend’  would return, if just for a taste of her sweet, homemade treat.

The afternoon sun streamed through the magnificent stained glass windows of Eclipse Kingdom Castle, casting a warm glow that enveloped the elaborately set dining hall. The rich scent of roasted vegetables mingled with fragrant herbs, while platters of succulent meats adorned the table, creating an inviting atmosphere for all those gathered.

Calliopra entered, her heart weighed down by the burdens of her recent royal duties. Yet, her gaze was immediately drawn to Nala, perched at the edge of a grand, ornate table, sharing a story with friends that sparked joyous laughter. In that moment, the warmth of their mirth bridged the chasm of worry that often separated mother and daughter. As Calliopra approached, Nala and her companions noticed her presence and bowed respectfully.

“Hello, Queen Calliopra,” they said in unison.

“Hello, Mum!” Nala called out, her bright green eyes shining with enthusiasm. “I was just telling them about my recent spell study with my mentor and catching up since our education has kept us so busy.” Her friends stole glances at Calliopra, their expressions a mixture of awe and respect.

Calliopra felt her heart soften at the sight of her daughter surrounded by friends, their laughter momentarily distracting her from the weight of the day. “It’s wonderful to see you all,” she replied warmly, her hand instinctively tucking a stray curl behind Nala’s ear—a tender gesture filled with unspoken love amidst the uncertainty that loomed over them.

Seizing the moment, Calliopra said, “Nala, may I have a word?” The friends exchanged farewells and drifted away, leaving mother and daughter ensconced in a private cocoon. Calliopra sank into a chair and poured herself a glass of cool water from the pitcher on the table.

The echoes of laughter faded, creating a charged silence between them. “Have you thought more about my request to visit the surface?” Nala asked, her voice bright with excitement but tinged with an undercurrent of anxiety.

Calliopra inhaled deeply, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing heavily upon her. “I have reconsidered your request, Nala. You may go, but on one condition: you will be accompanied by Nyx.” The words felt substantial, the shadow of C’yra lingering just beyond their conversation, haunting every decision she made regarding her remaining child.

“Auntie Nyx?” Nala beamed. Nyx, their loyal guard, had been not just a protector but a confidante who stood by Nala’s side since the very beginning. “That’s wonderful! I would love to go with her!”

The flicker of joy in Nala's eyes took Calliopra by surprise, and for a fleeting moment, relief washed over her. Yet a bittersweet ache stirred in her heart. She longed to trust Nyx completely, yet each smile from her daughter echoed with haunting reminders of C’yra’s absence—the laughter of her firstborn now a distant, painful melody. “But promise me, Nala,” she said firmly, “the surface is a harsh reality as long as the Horde operates under that tyrant Hordak. You must listen to Nyx and remain vigilant. Remember our saying: nature’s whispers are warnings, not idle sounds.”

“Of course, Mum! It means the world to me!” Nala exclaimed, her determination shining anew. “I promise to be careful. I won’t let you down!” In that moment, Calliopra felt the spirit of C’yra flicker to life in her mind—a bittersweet reminder of the dreams that once filled their home.

But as quickly as joy had risen, a shadow crossed Nala's face. “Mum…” she hesitated, her voice softening as silence enveloped them like a heavy cloak. “Do you still think of me as—”

“No,” Calliopra interjected, sharper than intended, the edge of her protectiveness slicing through the air. The confusion and hurt flickering across Nala’s features made her immediately regret her abruptness.

“Why do you avoid answering my question if I remind you of C’yra?” Nala pressed gently, her eyes glistening with restrained emotion. “I know you sometimes look at me as if I’m C’yra. She was like a sister to me, too; I lost her as well. You need to stop babying me and comparing my survival to hers. How can I ever hope to understand my own magic and become my true self if I remain cocooned forever?”

The mention of C’yra sent a jolt through Calliopra’s heart, the name a tangible wound between them that thrummed with the weight of their loss. She had weathered countless storms and watched Nala flourish with a determined spirit, yet those very qualities terrified her—mirroring C’yra's essence in a way that laid her vulnerabilities bare.

“I concede,” she murmured softly, her voice nearly lost in the ornate hall. “Your energy, your spirit remind me of your sister. I didn’t realise I had been overshadowing C’yra over you. The truth is, the world outside is relentless. There are dangers lurking beyond our rocky walls, and I am terrified of losing you, too…”

“Your fear only drives me away!” Nala’s voice rose, echoing the storm raging in her heart. “You can’t hold me back forever, Mum. I am strong—for this kingdom, for myself, and for C’yra. I’m an adult now—remember that. Trust me, Mum.”

Calliopra closed her eyes tightly, the weight of Nala’s words sinking deep into her soul, resonating with a painful familiarity.

She knew Nala was not only formidable but also incredibly clever; she had witnessed her daughter’s growth with pride. Calliopra swallowed hard, the lump in her throat making her response tremble. “Okay,” she murmured, her voice infused with a raw vulnerability.

Once again, silence enveloped the room as Nala stepped back, her expression sharpening into a mask of resolute determination. “I’m grateful we talked about this, Mum. I feel like I’ve come to understand you better and your fears. Thank you for reconsidering my request and thank you for starting to realise that I am an adult.” With that, she pivoted sharply on her heel, striding away with newfound purpose and resolve.

Calliopra remained at the table, the warm afternoon light contrasting sharply with the chill of unspoken truths and lingering fears. She noticed the murmur of the room had resumed, the lively chatter returning now that their conversation had ended. She inhaled slowly, gathering her thoughts, feeling the weight of her second child stepping into adulthood.

With a steadiness that belied the storm within, she brushed away the glimmer of tears threatening to spill, resolving to confront the deeper challenges that loomed on the horizon.

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That night, the luminous rocks draped heavy from the ceiling above the kingdom, casting a soft, enchanting glow over the castle. Leona and Calliopra stood on their balcony, their silhouettes framed by the silvery light. As they breathed in the cool night air, they couldn’t help but reflect on the opportunities they had missed to confide in Nala on different occasions.

Their gazes drifted to the royal garden below, where Nala sat absorbed in a book of stories, the glowing skies twinkling like distant stars above her. They understood the urgency to reach out, to embrace the vulnerability that the truth would bring. Yet, with diplomats and civilians continually vying for their attention, the moment seemed as elusive as the flickering shadows that danced in the night.

Suddenly, the serenity of the evening shattered. A group of warriors burst into the courtyard, their faces taut with urgency. As they approached, they were intercepted by the royal guards, the tension in the air palpable enough to rattle even Nala’s composure. The queens exchanged quick, worried glances, their previous plans lost amid the brewing disruption. With a flicker of magic, Calliopra teleported them to the ground, positioning themselves before the troops.

Lady Elara Cross, a royal guard, stepped forward with an urgency that rarely accompanied her measured demeanour. “Queens, I’m sorry for the intrusion, but the night watch has intel that simply could not wait until dawn. If there’s nothing else, my colleague and I will leave to investigate the perimeter.” 

“Your Majesties!” called Furrion Marshal, the leader of the night watch, breathless and wide-eyed as he hurried towards them. After clearing his throat, he composed himself. “I apologise for my earlier interruption. Let’s start again. I have urgent matters to discuss. While scouting the usual routes above ground, we discovered an operation belonging to none other than the Horde.”

A silence fell, the weight of his words puncturing the fragile moment Leona and Calliopra had been savouring. Dread began to coil in Leona’s heart. “What do you mean? Are you saying this is something that has been brewing right under our noses while our army failed to notice?”

The younger magicat soldier, fidgeting slightly, spoke up. “Maybe we’ve grown too relaxed, too comfortable since the years of peace.” His honesty hung in the air, drawing a stern glance from Furrion.

“What the lad means,” Furrion interjected, urgency lacing his tone, “is that the Horde is unaware of our kingdom’s existence. That’s a positive sign. But it’s more than just a few scouts. It resembles a small operation involving significant transport. We’re unsure exactly what they’re up to, but this warrants immediate attention.”

Calliopra felt her mind racing, recalling an initiative she had discussed with Nyx ages ago. 

Both Furrion and Queen Leona turned to her, curiosity and concern etching their features. “Queen Calliopra?” they asked in unison, prompting her to gather her focus amid the chaos.

Clenching her fists, Calliopra’s resolve solidified. “We don’t know the Horde’s intentions. We must convene an emergency meeting with the council first thing tomorrow. Furrion, relay this to Felis Corvax; he oversees our kingdom's protection. In the meantime, organise a rotation of warriors to survey the area where the Horde is operating. We can’t afford to remain blind to what they might be planning.”

Furrion nodded, saluted, and rushed off to fulfil his orders.

Chapter Text

As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, the queens gathered for an extraordinary council meeting in the room reserved for the kingdom’s most significant affairs. The flickering candles on the table cast an eerie glow, as if sensing the weight of the pivotal discussions to come. Together, the two Magicat queens entered side by side, their hearts still weighed down by the heavy responsibilities of their rule.

Seated around the large round table were Furrion Marshal, Felis Corvax, Artemis Shadowclaw, and an unnamed person, a seasoned community leader who was invited as a guest by an recently appointed member of the council- Eldrin Windrider, both position are for represented the people. Felinara Hefin sat among them, clipboard in hand, whilst talking to her junior. The new faces included Herren Voss, the Assistant to the Head Mage, his flowing robes shimmering in the filtered light. Syphid Prowlheart was unable to attend, due to unsaid reasons. Freya Stormblade, newly promoted to lead the Magicat warrior armies, was present as first act in her new role. This decision, made during the previous meeting, was intended to ease the queen’s burden, as no other leader had emerged since the last promising warrior was killed in the conflict years ago. 

The air was thick with anticipation. Queen Calliopra took a moment to assess the members gathered, noting the array of emotions displayed: concern was palpable on faces, while resolve glimmered in their eyes.

"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," Queen Leona began, her voice firm and commanding. "We have recently been alerted to a potential threat, following a discovery made by the night watch. Sir Furrion will now provide a fuller picture."

The murmurs subsided as Furrion stepped up from his seat to elaborate. “During my scouts last night, we discovered a significant amount of horde’s soldiers just beyond our borders. where it seems they are establishing an area of operation, but we have yet to comprehend its true intent.”

Herren Voss furrowed his brow, leaning forward in his seat. "Could it be nothing more than a routine training exercise, with them simply camping out for a few nights? We've seen it before—The Horde is known for using harsh environments to train their youngest recruits."

"The gathering appeared more like a group of seasoned soldiers, each with different ranks and roles in the area," Furrion responded. "What's more, they've started bringing in tools and supplies, occupying the space around their operation, Herren."

Herren then asked Furrion if he could cast a spell to visualize what he had seen, allowing the others to delve deeper and share their insights. After a few murmurs and a burst of light, several images materialized and projected into the space above the centre of the table, hovering just above their heads. The display reminded Queen Calliopra of a similar spell she was familiar with.

"What's under that cover over there?" a light voice, likely belonging to the guest, asked in a tone of confusion.

"Let me make that clearer," the mage replied. With a flick of his hands, the visual sharpened, revealing more detail.

"I'm not sure what's peeking out from beneath the covers," Furrion said, his focus intense. "From a distance, the shapes look like boxes… Could they be storage or transport boxes?"

"So far, what we’ve observed is a group of soldiers, tents, machinery, and the clearing of space for their 'unknown' operation. There are boxes, seemingly unused, and they’re moving back and forth between the Whispering Woods and The Fright Zone. Could it be safe to assume this isn’t our concern? Perhaps they’re just involved in black market dealings?" a guest remarked.

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Freya Stormblade broke the quiet with a sharp exclamation. "What if they've found one of our magical checkpoints to the kingdom and used their dark witch to locate it? That’s when it becomes our concern, and by then, it’ll be too late."

Freya wasn’t about to keep quiet in her first meeting if she was going to hear nonsense like that. But as her voice echoed in the room, she realized that shouting wasn’t productive. She quickly apologized.

Queen Leona raised her hand in acknowledgment. "It's understandable," she said calmly, signalling for the meeting to continue.

Felis crossed his strong arms, sharp and vigilant. “Regardless of what the Horde are doing in the area and what they are up to, we must bolster our defences, Your Majesties. I recommend fortifying the outposts and preparing our warriors for potential conflict.”

"A sound suggestion," Artemis remarked, her sharp intellect unfolding with strategic precision. "But what we need most is information. We should consider having the night watch investigate further, and perhaps even explore the possibility of rekindling alliances with our old allies—those who may have a better understanding of the Horde's recent activities."

The idea of forming alliances made Queen Leona feel the weight of apprehension settle over her like a heavy cloak. "Are we truly ready to reveal ourselves just yet?" she asked, her voice tinged with caution. "In the last kingdom vote, the public chose to hold off on that notion. Should we now simply disregard what our people decided and act against their wishes?"

Leona's informal tone often emerged when something seemed ill-considered, but her words landed without objection. The council members nodded thoughtfully, acknowledging the wisdom in her words.

The queens watched their advisors closely, each one weighing the delicate balance between caution and action. Queen Calliopra, deep in thought, wondered what the best course of action would be in dealing with the situation.

Freya Stormblade rose to her feet once more, her confidence growing as a sense of calm washed over her. She lifted her notes, steadying herself before posing her question. "Looking back at the records concerning our warriors, I see that months ago, it was decided we would pull back our undercover spies from the neighboring kingdoms. The rationale was that we had gathered enough intelligence on the current situation and needed to focus on other priorities. But should we reconsider this decision? What would be the most direct approach for the Horde? I recognize that this will increase the risks, but we must stay ahead of whatever plans they may be forming in the Whispering Woods."

A murmur of approval rippled through the room, accompanied by thoughtful nods, as Freya Stormblade took her seat, waiting to see if her proposal might be reconsidered.

Queen Calliopra’s mind sparked with a sudden clarity as she recalled the undrafted initiative she had devised after many days of careful planning, consultations with her people, and discussions with experts. Her goal had been to gather fresh perspectives on how this new initiative could be effective without overburdening the kingdom's warriors or diverting them too far from their duties at home.

The Magicat queen gracefully pushed back her wooden chair and stood, her movements imbued with elegance. “Lady Commander Freya Stormblade has raised a crucial point. To put it simply, we cannot reverse the old mission plan. The undercover agents involved have already reintegrated into their regular routines, reuniting with their families and resuming their original roles. Since that initiative was disbanded, I have been working on a new proposal called ‘The Taskforce.’

This idea is similar to the Night watch, but with a key difference: it will consist of a select group of skilled warriors tasked with monitoring all checkpoints, patrolling the surrounding forests, and deterring anyone who might approach these hidden locations. Additionally, this Taskforce would be the only unit authorized to operate beyond the kingdom’s borders, should the need arise, based on the kingdom’s requirements.

This Taskforce would serve as the kingdom's first line of defence. In the event of any threat, they would report directly to either the Commander or the Chief Royal Guard. This approach would allow us to reduce reliance on the Night watch, whose timing doesn’t always align with the day team. I have more details to share, which I will present to you now.”

With a flick of her fingers, Queen Calliopra summoned copies of her proposal, materializing before her peers on A4 sheets of fine paper.

“This is interesting, Queen Calliopra. What inspired you to create this in the first place?” asked Felinara, tapping her long nail against the paper, her gaze focused on the document. The rest of the group continued to read, so this question was a natural one for Calliopra to address.

The idea had begun years ago, when her first child was presumed dead. It was a concept born from grief, driven by a relentless desire to find any trace of her lost child. However, after discovering that her daughter, C’yra, was alive, the idea was abandoned. It was then reshaped into something far more constructive—an initiative that would not only benefit the kingdom but could also evolve into something greater. Still, Queen Calliopra chose to simplify her response, stating only that the concept had emerged more recently.

The royal advisory committee exchanged glances before turning to Queen Leona, who seemed deeply engrossed in the document. A subtle nod from her indicated her interest. “Calliopra, this looks promising.” Since the meeting began, Queen Leona had been mostly silent, observing more than speaking. This response was a shift, signalling her approval.

With his wizardly aura shimmering, Herren turned to Queen Calliopra. “Would this taskforce include individuals with a range of skills? It would be futile to rely solely on strong warriors if the team lacks those with expertise in magic, nature, or wildlife. And what if the team were to miss someone with the silent, stealthy abilities of a scout? You see my point.”

Before the queen could respond, another voice chimed in. “I think the key issue is who would lead this taskforce,” said Artemis. “Surely there are known Magicats who have shown promise and have the necessary experience?”

Queen Leona, who had been silently observing, turned her gaze toward her love. She too found herself curious about this aspect. While she had overseen many warriors and leaders, and met with skilled individuals who could handle such a task, the way Calliopra had crafted this detailed proposal, along with the look in her mate’s eyes, made it clear that she had someone specific in mind. 

A name was spoken, and it elicited varied reactions. Some understood the significance of the name, while others questioned why someone who hadn’t fully committed to a specific role within the kingdom would be chosen. However, beneath these surface-level doubts, it was clear that this individual possessed unique skills as an operative, adept at remaining hidden among the surface and adapting to any situation. With a history of experience that would surpass most, this person had spent more time traveling as an agent than any other Magicat, especially since the kingdom had gone into hiding. It wasn’t mere favouritism—this individual was well-known to the royal family and had a history of working closely with the queens in recent years.

In the end, the room held a vote, not only on whether to approve the proposal for the taskforce but also on whether the leader that Queen Calliopra had recommended was the right choice. There were some who remained uncertain, but ultimately, everyone recognized the necessity of this initiative. 

Felis stepped back, folding his arms across his chest once more. “Then it’s settled. I’ll consult with our captains, as well as the person you’ve recommended for the task force leader, and begin strategizing on who should be part of the team. Additionally, Freya Stormblade will assist with setting up their training, equipment, and anything related to my department. We’ll proceed until we receive word on when they’ll become active.” He glanced over at Freya Stormblade to see if she had any further comments. She nodded in agreement. “That sounds good, yes, Sir.”

Furrion spoke up next, saying he would update his Night watch squad. He also mentioned that he and his squad would keep a close watch on the Horde's operations, using messenger birds to send updates to Felis’s team and track any changes.

Herren Voss offered his support, saying he would forward everything discussed, along with the document, to the head mage.

Felinara then suggested to the queens that they might need to consider temporarily closing off the checkpoints near the Horde, either by disabling the magic runes or concealing the checkpoints with another illusion. This would, however, cause some delays in the trade routes for seasonal goods and resources, which would affect vendors and the public. The community leader nodded, understanding that this would be inconvenient but was necessary for security. It was emphasized that the operation near the kingdom should not be made public; instead, the official statement would be that the environment had become unstable and potentially risky for transport.

As the council meeting drew to a close, a sense of purpose lingered in the air, but Leona and Calliopra knew there was one final, delicate matter to address. Leona hesitated for a moment, her gaze shifting to her wife. It was soft, yet laden with unspoken thoughts. Calliopra met her eyes and offered a small, reassuring nod—the kind only a partner in such weighty decisions could give.

Turning to the room, Queen Calliopra spoke, her voice calm and commanding. “I ask that all non-council members leave now. This matter concerns only the core council.” Sir Furrion, Marshal of the Night watch, Herren Voss, and Freya Stormblade all stood in unison, offering their salutes before filing out of the room.

Once they were alone, Queen Leona cleared her throat, the room growing still in anticipation. All eyes turned to the queens as Leona’s voice broke the silence, quiet yet steady, carrying the weight of everything that had come before.

“Before we adjourn, there is one more matter we must discuss,” she began, her words heavy, as if each syllable bore the full weight of the kingdom’s future.

A collective breath hung in the air.

“We have recently made a discovery that will change everything,” Queen Leona continued, her voice thick with emotion. “Our firstborn, and Halfmoon’s first princess, C’yra… she is, in fact, alive.”

A stunned silence fell over the room. The council members, hardened by years of service and battle, exchanged wide-eyed glances, their expressions betraying the disbelief they struggled to conceal. Felis’s hand hovered mid-air, his brow furrowed in confusion. Eldrin Windrider’s arms uncrossed as though he had forgotten how to compose himself. Hefina leaned forward, a strange mix of curiosity and concern flickering in her eyes.

"What?" Felis’s voice shattered the silence, barely a whisper in the vast hall. “Alive, after all these years? Where is she?”

Hefina, too, was visibly shaken. “But how? This kingdom mourned her. We mourned her... and you both too?” She gestured toward the queens, her hand trembling. Her voice broke as she continued, “We held a ceremony in the young princess’s honour. How is this possible?”

Calliopra stepped forward, her posture unwavering despite the storm of emotions swirling inside her. “I know it’s hard to believe, but we’ve found evidence that she survived. Months ago, a rumour began to circulate in the far corners of Etheria about a hybrid with cat descent, characterized by yellow and blue eyes. From there, I sent trusted agents to investigate, and, long story short, they encountered her in the flesh near the Thaymor region. From their intel, we learned she’s been living among the wild, surviving on the ground all this time.”

Eldrin Windrider’s brow furrowed, his mind racing. “A mere rumour? Wait, like living on the land, like an sort of wild Logger?”

Queen Calliopra winced at the random suggestion, the pain of those years of uncertainty hitting her again. She turned to her wife, who stepped forward to answer Eldrin’s question.

“No,” Queen Leona replied, her voice steady despite the emotions swirling within. “She was—no, she is —more like... She adapted to the wild, surviving within it, more like a feral being than a civilized person.”

Hefina suddenly interrupted, her mind racing as the realization hit her. “If C’yra is alive, that means she would be an adult now. I don’t have an exact age in mind, but... wow.” She leaned back in her chair, lost in thought.

Eldrin Windrider, his head resting in his hands as he faced the hard table, muttered, “A feral? How do you know it’s really her? For all we know, that could be another beast that is just an animal that looked similar to us magicats or worse, a half-breed hybrid who escaped from slave traders!”

Queen Leona’s tail slammed onto the table, her face contorted with emotion at Eldrin’s words. Calliopra reached out to stop her, giving a subtle gesture that they needed to explain things more carefully.

Calliopra nodded firmly, her voice unwavering. “We’ve verified it through a high-level mage’s spell. A piece of her fur, and mine, were used... the results are undeniable. And beyond that, the adult Magicat we’ve found shares the same characteristics as our Princess C’yra. She may not be the same young princess we lost, but she is still my daughter. And respecting her is all you can do.”

The murmurs started again as the council tried to process the staggering news.

Queen Leona’s heart was heavy, but her resolve remained unwavering. “This is why we cannot reveal her survival to the kingdom yet. This secret must remain confined to this room. We must first bring her back home. The hardest part will be rehabilitating her—helping her transition from a life driven by survival instincts into one of civilization. Once we are confident she is ready to re-join society, then and only then can we reveal her existence.”

Felis’s face tightened, his mind racing with the implications. “What if she’s... too far gone?”

Calliopra’s voice was firm, resolute. “We will not give up on her. But we must proceed with caution. We don’t know what these years in the wild have done to her. There will be no rushing this. Her well-being must come first.”

Hefina nodded slowly, her expression shifting as another realization struck her. “Wait... if she’s alive, that means... the runestone—”

“Exactly,” Leona interjected, her voice deepening with urgency. “The danger to C’yra is compounded by the fact that she holds the other half of the runestone. We know the Horde continues to take over villages and maintain a presence in various kingdoms. There’s always a risk that witch may be commanding them.” The words came out as a harsh, venomous whisper. “We've seen how far Shadow Weaver would go at nothing to get power. If she learns C’yra is alive, the danger will only escalate.”

Queen Leona's expression hardening under the weight of the decision as she continued. “ I will personally speak to Syphid about this, as she couldn’t attend today, but as a member of this council, she has the right to know. Only Queen Calliopra and I can authorize the release of this information, and that will only happen once we’ve successfully reintegrated C’yra into civilization. I can’t say when or how long that will take. Until then, it is our responsibility to protect her—and to safeguard the kingdom’s future.”

The council members, still stunned by the enormity of the revelation, exchanged silent glances. The gravity of the situation settled over them.

“I will research methods to ease Princess C’yra’s transition once she arrives here. We’ll likely need specialized professionals—psychologists, trauma experts, and perhaps even ecologists, considering her time in the wild. Everything will be carried out with the utmost secrecy,” Hefina offered, her tone now more resolute than it had been all meeting.

“My queens, since I frequently travel between the castle and other parts of the city, could I investigate potential routes and areas that could be of interest to the princess to reconnect with her culture? I’ll begin with the castle, as I assume she won’t be seen in any public spaces. There are areas here where she could remain secluded, away from the crowds,” Eldrin Windrider asked, his voice now more cooperative and thoughtful than before.

Leona’s gaze swept across the council, meeting each of their eyes with quiet determination. “Thank you, all. But we will need everyone’s vigilance. The risk of discovery is high. The Horde is gathering near our checkpoints, and the longer we wait, the more perilous this situation becomes. We haven’t made any concrete plans for bringing C’yra home yet, as Queen Calliopra and I have decided it’s best to first plan thoroughly before moving her away from everything she has known for most of her life. Until then, we will continue having private meetings on this.”

“I will remain focused on our primary concern—the Horde’s unknown operations,” Felis said. “However, once you have a clearer timeline for when Princess C’yra will be brought back, I can assess how to adapt the guards' routes to wherever she will be living. Additionally, we will need to strengthen security around the castle, city, and key routes to protect the princess. We may have to consider that she may try to escape, feeling confused and anxious, like... an scared animal. Apologies if that wording isn’t quite right, my Queens.”

Queen Calliopra’s gaze softened, but her voice remained unwavering. “Once C’yra is safe, we will help her navigate the world she may remember. This is our chance to make things right, though it will require both patience and precision” 

Leona reached for Calliopra's hand, squeezing it gently as she spoke the final words. 'I understand the weight of this responsibility, but we cannot fail her again. The kingdom will move forward, now with the return of our Princess, bringing hope, strength, and unity to our people.'

The council members nodded in solemn agreement, each feeling the immense responsibility of the task ahead. The shadow of the Horde loomed ever closer, and they understood that the journey ahead would be fraught with challenges.

Two key decisions were made: first, to assemble and train a task force while continuing evening patrols to monitor the Horde's new base; second, to develop a plan for bringing Catra home, ensuring a smoother transition to bring her away from her feral mindset. This plan will also involve screening individuals with relevant experience. Both initiatives are prioritized for immediate action, though they are expected to be completed within two weeks.

The mountain loomed high above the jungle—a jagged throne of stone and shadow, kissed by the cloudiness. The asleep Catra laid by the edge of the precipice, as her legs hung freely while her arms crossed underneath her chin. The wind howled around her, whipping through the wild tufts of fur that framed her face. Below, the sprawling jungle was a vibrant tapestry of colours and sounds, alive with the symphony of nature. Yet here, in her deep slumber, reality took on a strangely vivid quality, almost palpable in its intensity.

Her heart thrummed with a frenetic energy—of exhilaration—as memories replayed in this dream, rushed in like a flood. The sequences are all muddled, the tempest of confusion and revelation since she made the life-changing encounter with Nyx. There were words she couldn’t make out that came from the strange person….. ‘Magicat’...... ‘Something, something. 'She mumbles to herself. Catra has never seen something like Nyx before. As a child of the jungle, Catra had roamed freely, unfettered by the constructs of civilization, but now, each recollection laid bare the fragility of her identity.

Just as her heart dared to expand at the thought of Nyx, another memory pierced through— The intensity of those swirling emotions threatened to unravel her, and she desperately latched onto a single thought: Am I where?. She was in a green space, but it wasn’t like the usual outdoors. Until it flashes and changes - she was now indoors. Then hard steps first appeared and then Catra's ears perked up at an unexpected sound—a soft, unfamiliar noise that contrasted sharply with the usual symphony of birdsong. Intrigued, she turned to find a tall feline figure draped in unusual attire, its tail playfully swishing at a small object on the ground. Instinctively, her fur bristled, senses heightened, but she took a steadying breath and inched closer, curiosity pulling her forward.

As her gaze locked onto the thing, she gasped softly. It was a little being…yet distinctly different. What struck her most were its eyes, wide and expressive, filled with a wonder she had never seen before.

Before she could react or take another step, a firm grip pulled her away. In that fleeting moment of confusion, she caught a glimpse of something on the figures' back as they turned to leave, the baby cradled in their care. And then, in an instant, the world around her faded to black.

As Catra's spine collided with the unforgiving rock surface, she was knocked onto her back, her blue and yellow eyes gazing up at the expanse of sky above. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the crisp mountain air that filled her lungs, rich with the earthy scents of her jungle home. Yet, beneath the serenity of the moment, an unsettling fear coiled within her. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one that left her feeling raw and vulnerable, exposed to the unpredictable world around her.

Catra's calloused hand brushed against the dust-covered pouch nestled against her chest. With a careful tug, she removed it from her body, revealing her most treasured possession—a wooden cat figurine. It reminded her of her adoptive mother and brother back home. Sitting cross-legged, Catra studied the small wooden feline, its intricate details evoking memories of her brother and mother back home. Her gaze drifted back to the enigmatic pouch, a weight of unanswered questions pressing down on her heart as she grappled with her fragmented identity.

Catra must admit that she does find it amusing in watching those humans during her time searching for clues to her identity for many moons now, indulging in their vibrant food without being noticed and lively interactions, a sense of caution holding her back. She feared becoming too comfortable, aware of the risks that lay in slipping up, or worse—ending up as a captive.. Similar to that evil yet unfortunate snake hybrid, she had a run in ages ago.

Tears brimmed in her mismatched eyes as she lowered her head, cradling the small feline figurine for comfort. Despite having visited several places inhabited by humans, Catra had yet to find anyone who resembled her. Catra's headache came to her again. From an outside perspective, what Catra doesn’t realise is that she has met someone like herself, Nyx. However, because Catra never looked at herself in a reflection in her life nor knows her heritage since being in the jungle, she wouldn’t know what a magicat looked like, let alone seeing one like Nyx for the first time. 

The hybrids she encountered felt strange to her—though they lived among humans, they seemed somehow different. In her eyes, they were merely extensions of humanity - making her feel uneasy naturally, a painful reminder of how profoundly alone she truly felt.

A breeze swept through the air, flowing between her head and the folded knees that shielded it. From the depths of her sorrow, a voice pops up in her head. Without realising, whispers soon escaped her lips, sounding harsh against the backdrop of her quiet sobs.

"…nee-ah-rah…"

Unknowingly, the weight of her emotions surged within her, manifesting as faint blue markings that began to glow across her body. Nearby, her pouch reacted, the magic emanating from the princess of Halfmoon stirring it, whether by coincidence or the sheer power of her unknown connection to magic.

A sudden gleam caught Catra's attention on the high mountain, sparkling brightly as the clouds shifted, allowing sunlight to break through for a moment. Her head snapped up, eyes widening in surprise, before she instinctively recoiled, retreating a few paces. After a few moments of hesitation, she crawled forward slowly, drawn to the mysterious light she had seen before.

As she approached, Catra watched in awe as the form transformed back into something recognizable. Unlike before, it was now pristine and unblemished—gleaming white adorned with intricate gold and red accents. It resembled something that could be worn, reminiscent of the garments humans donned, although Catra had no knowledge of that.

Her fascination deepened as she examined the jacket closely, captivated by its vibrant colours. The hues shifted before her eyes, revealing a striking palette of deep red with gold and white highlights. While Catra didn’t have a name for these colours, she instinctively knew she was drawn to them.

After a few moments of exploration, she turned her attention to the back. There, she discovered an image—a design that had eluded her notice before. This revelation took her by surprise, sparking a mixture of intrigue and excitement that sent her heart racing.

“Picture,” Catra murmured, her claws trailing slowly over the image before her.

Catra was skilled at interpreting pictures, but this one was different. A sudden flash of pain shot through her head, worse this time, a sensation she hadn’t experienced in quite a while. The picture, she seen it before but where?? A lot is on Catra mind as her mind raced at her visions, this strange hybrid called Nyx who has met her and now this……... Could it all be linked?

Catra shook off the unease, scratching behind her ear with her foot in a wild display of stress. The vision of Nyx surged into her mind.

“Nyx… hunt…”

Her heart raced at the thought, a primal urgency igniting within her. She had no concrete plan for when she found her, but the thrill of chasing down a lead—something that could unlock the mysteries swirling around her—was almost intoxicating. It felt crucial, a piece of the puzzle that might reveal more about who she truly was.

She headed back to the area where she first encountered Nyx, near the forest that bordered one of her cherished places—a place where she got all the food she wanted.

Later on:

As the sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm light over the village of Thaymor, an unsettling stillness reigned. The air, usually alive with the joyful sounds of children playing and merchants calling out their wares, had turned eerily quiet. The vibrant market stalls were emptied, their colourful fabrics fluttering listlessly in the gentle midday breeze. It felt as though the very trees were holding their breath, sensing something troubling just beneath the surface. After having no luck finding the figure who held clues, Catra decided to visit the village; maybe to check on the hybrid child and it many fishes it bring to her.

Catra prowled the desolate paths, her sharp instincts on high alert. The familiar sights of the village, once bursting with life and greenery, now stood still and haunting. The warm, comforting smells of baked goods and fresh produce were replaced by acrid scents of ash and something metallic that made her stomach churn. She stepped gingerly over the shattered remnants of machines, abandoned and broken, their once-glimmering surfaces dulled with grime.

The sun's rays glinted off twisted pieces of metal, casting strange reflections that danced in front of her eyes. Panic began to rise within her as her senses absorbed the chaos surrounding her. The quiet was oppressive. She hesitated, then decided to venture further into the heart of what was once a bustling community, propelled by a mix of curiosity and concern that clouded her judgement.

Unbeknownst to Catra, she had stumbled into the aftermath of Horde robots that has ravaged the village. The sun, now shrouded by thick clouds, cast a muted light over the remnants of conflict—scorched buildings, toppled market carts, and the haunting echoes of a world that had been irrevocably upended. In this dim illumination, even the shadows seemed burdened by despair, a stark reminder of the joy that once filled the air.

This time, Catra noticed an unusual number of beings roaming the desolate streets, yet there were no signs of gatherings, festivities, or food. She recognized them as the villagers who once thrived here but sensed something was amiss. A nagging intuition told her that the atmosphere was charged with tension. She caught glimpses of humans and hybrids wielding strange objects. She quickly made her way to the rooftops, deftly slipping into the shadows to avoid detection .

In a quiet corner of the village, her ears picked up a faint whimpering sound. Drawn by the noise, she ventured closer and soon spotted a small figure—a young child—lost and cornered, trapped near a sinister machine with twitching metal limbs. Catra wasn’t familiar with this bizarre contraption, nor did she know if it belonged to any known species. A growl rumbled in her throat as instinct took over, and her body instinctively crouched low, blending seamlessly into her surroundings. "Pro-tect," she thought, determination igniting within her as she readied herself to intervene.

Catra came closer and recognised who the child was. ‘Sh...?’ Catra whispered to herself. She thought to herself that she would not let harm come to Shep—not to the child who has given her ‘fish’, oblivious to the tempest that roared in her heart. With every ounce of her strength, she charged at the monstrous machine, a feral guardian ready to shield the innocent from whatever this thing was.

"Grrrr! Rrraow!" Catra roared, while she jumped near them. Catra’s sound echoing through the debris, a fierce note of defiance against the machine. The clamour of her battle cry startled it, drawing its focus away from Shep. Catra darted in like a flash of wild lightning, graceful yet feral in her movements, just out of reach of the machine’s grasp. Shep's eyes widened as he watched her, a mix of fear and hope brightening his face.

After a tense moment, Catra positioned herself in front of Shep as the machine continued to rise, seemingly yearning for more conflict. "Go awwway," she whispered, her quiet plea starkly contrasting with the dire circumstances in which she found herself—facing a menacing horde machine. Her body was taut, instinctively protecting the child in her charge, much like a cornered animal defending its young against predators. The machine whirred ominously, its sensors now targeting the new threat before it.

With determination, Catra dove beneath its sweeping limbs, utilising her agility to evade its grasp. In a final decisive act, she expertly disabled its limbs, rendering the machine powerless. Suddenly, the machine's antenna beeps randomly, alarming Catra. Acting rashly, she sliced across its face with a swift, precise motion. Only then did it finally succumb to its demise, the threat extinguished.

Catra turned to see Shep huddled in the corner, but as she approached, she realised something was wrong—he was unconscious, having been knocked out in the chaos. Panic surged through her, and she crouched beside him, her heart racing.

"?" she called softly, nudging him gently with her nose . She looked around, ensuring the threat was truly gone, before focusing all her attention on the small child.

In the aftermath of the battle, the villagers surged forward from sheltered areas, drawn by the cacophony that had echoed with an intensity capable of shaking their very foundations. Fear gripped their hearts, confusion clouded their thoughts—the terrifying machine had advanced toward the core of their village, inducing a primal terror in their souls. Misinterpreting the unfolding events, they misconstrued Catra’s protectiveness as an attack against their own, perceiving her as yet another threat to their safety.

“There’s a beast here!”

"It has a child!" a woman screamed, clutching her baby in her body wrap. ‘Wait… It’s Shep! Someone gets his mother!’

"Hurry! Grab anything, to rescue Shep!" urged an older man, his voice fractured with panic, others echoing his call as the crowd began to rally.

“Just when we fought off those horde robots, now we have this beast—probably feasting on the remains of our dead,” an older man muttered, his sentiment resonating with a few others in the crowd.

Catra's heart raced as the tension in the air thickened, the villagers' palpable fear closing in around her. Cradling the unconscious Shep in her arms, she felt the weight of their eyes, full of suspicion and dread. In the distance, a woman’s voice cut through the chaos, calling out a name as she ran toward them. It was Shep’s mother, desperately searching for her lost child, misplaced during the frenzied attack of the horde. The sound of his mother’s voice stirred something in Shep, and he murmured something, his small face momentarily illuminated by recognition before slipping back into unconsciousness.

“Shep! My baby boy!” His mother finally broke through the crowd, her voice laced with raw terror as she pushed her way toward him, only to be restrained by other villagers who feared for her safety.

Seeing her son near the creature—a 'wild feline'—she grasped, panic radiating from her. “Wait… is he hurt? No!” she gasped, urgency threading through her voice. 

But the villagers remained trapped in their fear, unable to see beyond Catra’s feral exterior. Agonised shouts erupted around them, a swell of urgency filling the air, until an elder stepped forward, flanked by a few capable fighters.

“We need to sort this out now!” the elder commanded, his voice firm.

Catra was fiercely protective of the child, oblivious to the villagers’ intent to do the same. One moment, she faced a semicircle of frightened faces, cornered against a small clearing by the wall of a nearby structure. The next, she felt a cloud of powder sting her eyes, thrown by a nearby teenager in a moment of panic.

Two men approached swiftly. One tossed a rope around her clawed hand while the other lunged for Shep, taking the child from Catra’s other arm. Enraged, Catra tore through the debris and yanked the rope back, slashing it with a fierce swipe of her claws.

Gathering herself, a powerful roar erupted from her throat, making her appear larger and stunning the onlookers into silence. Her gaze fixed on the villagers, her mind clouded with rage at the thought of losing Shep. Muscles rippling and claws extended, soon locking eyes with a pair of terrified eyes. In that moment, a wave of recognition crashed over her—a haunting memory of another time when someone had looked at her with trust.

In an instinctive, visceral reaction, she turned away, her ferocity dissolving into an urgent need to escape. Claws retracting, she climbed up to a building wall, before she dashed away on all fours, fleeing from the chaos, from the misunderstanding, leaving behind another thing that made her happy.

Catra raced through the grasslands, the wind tearing through her fur, carrying the harsh taste of rejection and sorrow. Behind her, the villagers, still ensnared in their protective stance, their voices loud with cheers, mistaking her flight for victory.

Chapter Text

Notice to our Magicat Citizens:

In light of recent developments regarding the stability of our trade routes and potential risks to public safety, we are temporarily adjusting the paths used for transporting goods and resources. As a precaution, the magical checkpoints securing these routes will be closed for a brief period. While we understand the inconvenience this may cause, please be assured that these measures are essential for the kingdom’s long-term security.

During this time, we advise all citizens to prepare for potential shortages, especially in seasonal produce and perishable items. Should you require assistance, please contact your local council representative or visit the community centre. We ask for your patience and understanding as we manage these necessary changes.

— The Royal Court of the Eclipse Kingdom, under the authority of Queen Calliopra & Queen Leona

Chapter Text

Nestled within the rugged stone walls of a colossal arena, the air was thick with anticipation. The atmosphere crackled with the tension of those taking part in the final test for the kingdom’s new elite squad. Inside, a group of four stood ready, each selected for their unique talents to become part of the kingdom’s most formidable defence.
At the helm of this initiative stood Freya Stormblade, Commander of the Magicat Warriors. Trained under the unwavering guidance of Queen Leona, Freya had proven herself time and again on the battlefield. Having led warriors of all ranks, from fresh recruits to battle-hardened captains, she had sharpened both her combat skills and leadership. Now, it was her duty to assess whether the applicants before her met the kingdom's rigorous standards—ensuring not only that the right individuals were chosen, but that they could truly work together as a cohesive force within the new elite unit.

Freya’s piercing gaze swept over the four individuals, each of whom had already displayed remarkable skill during the two weeks she had given them intensive training. Today’s test would push them to their limits.

Freya stood confidently at the centre of the arena, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. She tied a piece of vibrant red fabric around her upper arm, securing it with a swift knot. “This is your final test,” she called out, her voice carrying across the arena. “Your objective is simple: take this fabric off me.”
She assumed a ready stance, her expression one of calm resolve. “Let’s commence.” 

With a flicker of tail motion, Freya vanished in a blur, a surge of magic marking her departure. Her magicat abilities, honed through years of intense training, allowed her to move swiftly, silent, and deadly. The group reacted quickly, instinctively shifting into a defensive formation. The murmur of strategies and ideas rippled through their ranks. Nyx was the first to speak, her voice steady and calm. A seasoned leader with a sharp mind. Her eyes gleamed with focus as she scanned the arena. "She’s using her magic to hide," Nyx observed. "We’ll need to outthink her, not just outfight her."

Her words hung in the air as they all circled, their senses straining to catch any hint of Freya’s presence. Then, without warning, the faintest ripple in the air appeared—Freya had reappeared, her form materializing before them in an instant.
Raelen, the scout, was the first to take action. Tall and agile, with a build honed for speed, he moved silently on the ground, his every step calculated. His quiet demeanour concealed a fierce resolve, and he was ready to strike. He rushed forward, aiming to close the gap between him and Freya.
She swung her sword in a wide arc, but Raelen, anticipating the attack, sidestepped it with ease. His speed was unmatched, his body flowing like water as he shifted his weight and launched a low kick at her torso.

Freya’s reflexes were lightning fast. She raised her sword in a defensive posture, blocking the kick with precision, then channelled her magic, her aura flaring to life around her. With a surge of energy, she pushed Raelen back, sending him stumbling across the ground as his feet scraped against the dirt. He regained his balance, but the challenge was clear: Freya wasn’t called Commander for nothing.

Lira saw the opportunity. As the defensive specialist of the group, Lira had mastered the manipulation of the earth itself. She raised her hands, and the ground beneath Freya trembled. The earth cracked and shifted, the very ground collapsing beneath Freya’s feet.

But Freya was ready. With a fierce growl, she summoned the strength within her and lifted a large chunk of rock from the rubble, hurling it into the air. It soared above Lira, and with a swift motion, Lira lifted her hands, caked in aura, causing the rock to crumbled as it neared her, the pieces crashing to the ground around her. But before she could react, the shadow of her brother loomed over her. Daric, the offensive powerhouse, had jumped high into the air, his body twisting as he descended toward Freya with incredible speed.

He clashed against her with a thunderous impact, his sword meeting hers in a burst of sparks. The force of the collision sent shockwaves through the arena, but neither combatant faltered. Freya’s eyes narrowed, her grip tightening on her sword. "You all have potential," she said, her voice low and fierce, "but I am not easily beaten."
The ground trembled as Daric and Freya struggled for dominance. Sparks flew from their blades as they locked in a powerful clash, their weapons singing with the force of their strikes. Freya’s eyes gleamed with determination, the weight of her years of training and experience pushing her forward. Daric’s muscles bulged with strength as he pressed against her, refusing to give an inch.

"You’re strong," Freya murmured, her voice barely audible over the sound of steel on steel. "But you need more than strength to win this."

Daric smirked as he growled in response, his grip tightening on his sword as he leaned into the fight, forcing Freya back. His powerful blows began to chip away at her defence, but Freya’s agility and quick thinking kept her on her feet. She twisted and dodged, sidestepping his attacks with a dancer’s grace, all while her mind raced for an opening.

Meanwhile, Raelen, still recovering from the push earlier, gathered himself as he was kneeling, his eyes never leaving Freya. The fight was escalating, but he knew the key to this test wasn’t simply brute force—it was precision and timing. Freya had been elusive, however, Raelen knew that his stealth wasn't of use in this open space of the arena. Lira, too, was waiting for her moment. As the battle between Daric and Freya raged, she scanned the environment for any potential advantage. 

As Daric’s sword came crashing down once more, Freya parried with a quick flick of her wrist. Her aura pulsed around her, sending a shockwave that sent Daric stumbling back. She quickly regained her stance, preparing for another flurry of strikes. But that’s when she felt it—an unnatural shift in the air. The mist suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

The arena seemed to hold its breath as the mist swirled around Freya, thickening the air with an eerie quiet. Her senses immediately went on high alert. Something had shifted—something dangerous. The mist wasn’t just a distraction. It was a strategic move. She darted her eyes from side to side, her every sense strained to catch a flicker of movement. She could feel the presence of her opponents all around her, even if she couldn’t see them clearly.

A sudden crack of stone broke the stillness as Lira’s earth magic flared again. The ground trembled beneath Freya’s feet, but this time it wasn’t just an attack—it was a diversion. As the earth cracked and split, a thick column of rock rose between Freya and Daric, creating an impenetrable barrier. In the midst of the chaos, Freya’s gaze sharpened, focusing on the sound of a soft breathing in the mist.

It was Raelen.

With his knowledge of the terrain, he had used the mist to conceal his movement. He was closer now than he had been before, and his goal was clear—his target was the fabric on her arm.

Freya acted without hesitation. She decided to pull her sword back into its scabbard and use her fighting skills she knows well. Using her kicks, claws and punches to slice through the mist as she tried to anticipate Raelen’s strike. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel his presence—he was near. But before she could fully react, Daric’s booming voice echoed through the mist. "Commander!" His sword cleaved through the column of rock with a single swing, sending a shower of debris scattering toward her.

The shower of debris exploded through the air, forcing Freya to shield herself with her arms, the rocks pelting her body and rattling her resolve. The mist still hung thick, but she had no time to react to the disorientation—she could feel the pressure of the fight closing in from all directions. Her senses were heightened, but every strike, every movement, was becoming harder to anticipate. She wasn’t just facing one opponent; she was facing a coordinated effort, a team working in perfect unison to take her down.

Daric’s massive frame hurtled toward her, his sword raised high, cutting through the air with lethal intent. She saw the gleam of his blade before it even landed, the power behind it undeniable. Freya sidestepped with grace, just as the weight of Daric’s strike whooshed past her. The momentum from his attack was enough to send him slightly off-balance, and Freya seized that moment. She launched a powerful sidekick into his chest, the impact reverberating through the air, sending him stumbling back.
For a brief moment, she thought she had him, but Daric's resilience was something to be reckoned with. He slammed his blade into the ground, using the force to propel himself back into the fray, his body still a formidable threat.

"Too slow," Freya muttered under her breath, as she moved to face him again, but she didn’t have time to rest.

Raelen’s presence flared behind her—silent, precise, a ghost in the mist. The air seemed to shift, his footsteps barely a whisper as he closed the distance between them. She felt him before she saw him, the flicker of his movement a tell-tale sign of his proximity. His hand shot toward her arm, intent on grabbing the fabric. Reacting swiftly, Freya twisted away, anticipating his strike. With a deft backhanded swipe, she reflected Raelen's wrist, the force of her motion spinning her body. Seizing the opportunity, she grasped his arm and, with a powerful motion, threw her arm upward, sending him crashing to the ground. Raelen gasped for breath, but his determination shone through as he flipped himself from his back to all fours, his resolve unmistakable—he wasn’t finished yet.

For the first time since the test began, Freya’s breath came in quick, ragged gasps. But before she could steady herself, she felt a sudden shift beneath her. The ground itself seemed to stir, as green, vine-like tendrils of earth erupted from the soil, wrapping tightly around her legs, pinning her in place.
Without hesitation, Freya reached for her sword, only to find it missing. Her eyes narrowed in realization—it had been taken when Raelen had last faced her. A cold, unfamiliar presence loomed over her, casting a heavy shadow.

In that crucial moment of distraction, Nyx descended from above with the help from her bat familiar’s wings beating in the thick air. The bat claws let go of her owner. The magical aura surrounding Nyx flared brightly, wrapping her in a cocoon of power as she descended through the sky. Freya barely had time to brace herself before Nyx collided with her, the force of the impact making the ground shake violently beneath them.

The world seemed to spin, and for a split second, Freya was thrown off balance. Nyx had one hand planted inside Freya’s palm, demonstrating that Freya did manage to brace herself. While Nyx’s other fist connected with Freya’s armoured shoulder, sending a shockwave through her body. Nyx, however, was ready. She countered with a swift shift of her hips, knocking Freya off balance further. The blow hit Freya’s lower body with precision, and she staggered backward with each hit, however, Freya smirked at Nyx, as clearly she managed to get her energy back. Nyx managed to slip from her grip, flipped backward, gracefully landing several feet away, immediately returning to a defensive stance. 

Freya smirked, a flicker of admiration crossing her face. “Clever,” she acknowledged, but her expression hardened as the weight of the situation pressed down on her. It was becoming painfully clear: the team was not merely attacking her; they were analyzing her, adapting to her every maneuver. They were outsmarting her. She had to admit it— their synchronicity was impeccable. They were forcing her to fight harder than she ever had against the army recruits.

With a deep breath, Freya unleashed a surge of magic that reverberated through the entire arena. Her aura flared, a brilliant explosion of energy that sent both Daric and Lira stumbling back. Raelen barely managed to evade the blast, using the moment to check on his two other teammates.

But Nyx remained unfazed. She lunged forward, her gaze locked onto Freya. As Nyx closed the distance, Freya moved instinctively—but Nyx had anticipated her every step. With a swift jab of her fist, Nyx struck with pinpoint accuracy, landing a blow squarely on Freya’s chest. Freya met Nyx’s gaze with an expression that conveyed both respect and challenge as she leaped back, regaining her composure.

Standing tall, Freya raised her hand, the red fabric of her attire fluttering dramatically in the wind. Though she was barely winded, she knew this was the pivotal moment. Her eyes locked with Queen Leona, who had been observing from the side-lines, poised and expectant.

“I’ve seen enough,” Freya declared, her voice resonating across the arena. A fang peeked from her smile as she added, “You’ve all passed this test.”

During a rare break from her magical practices with her mentor, Princess Nala decided to step outside the castle walls. The streets of the capital were alive with activity, the air thick with the vibrant hum of daily life—vendors hawking their wares, the rhythmic clink of tools in the workshops, and the rapid shuffle of magicats on their way to and from their tasks. It was a welcome contrast to the serious, scholarly pace of the castle, and Nala revealed in the energy of the bustling streets, her heart light with a sense of curiosity and purpose.

Wandering through the busy market square, she greeted familiar faces with a smile, stopping occasionally to admire the fresh produce displayed at the vendors’ stalls. As she walks further up, she sees one store that she has always known about in her life. It’s a bakery called Sweet Whisk. A big tall baker with flour-dusted hands greeted her warmly, his face lighting up when he saw her approach. “Ah, Princess Nala! It has been too long, the usual?” he asked, brushing his hands off on his apron.

“Yes please. You know it Mr Crumbleton!,” Nala replied, her eyes twinkling. The smile appeared on the big magicat baker as he turned to look for the one that she meant, he came back to pass it to the princess. 

Nala smiles as she bites into an freshly Stuffed Bread Rolls, an old magicat traditional piece of cuisine. After savouring the deliciousness of the bread roll, the cheerful baker asked, “Does your mum want some pastries? It’s been a while since she visited, and the pastries are especially delightful today.” Before Princess Nala could respond, the baker quickly selected a golden pastry studded with fresh berries, its sweet aroma wafting through the air. He eagerly handed it to her, and with a smile, she exchanged a few coins before they said their goodbyes. Nala continued on her way, her smile lingering as she carried the bread roll and pastries.

As she strolled through the bustling streets, Nala paused to chat with several citizens, including children playing in the capitol square. She asked about their days and their families, joining in their laughter as they played. A burly man, accompanied by his grandchild, grinned widely and said, “It’s been good, Your Highness. Just out here, enjoying some time with this little bundle of energy!”

Nala nodded thoughtfully as she laughed, her gaze went to him and to the child as she bent down to say hi to the young boy. The princess and the boy both’s forehead touches as part of the customary greeting in magicat culture (more simplified for children since the arm behind the back element would be too much). 

The princess came up before the boy asked to play, saying goodbye to go to a play area nearby. “I’ve heard the changes might affect our supplies,” He remarked, his tone soft yet probing. “Do you think it will get worse before it gets better?”

The princess wasn’t sure what he meant as she hadn't heard of any update. She played smoothly along as she said. She offered a reassuring smile. “The kingdom will find its way. It always does.” Nala gave the man a warm nod and continued her stroll, her presence bringing comfort to those she passed. Each wave, each greeting seemed to strengthen the connection she felt to her people, a responsibility that began to weigh heavier on her shoulders as she walked further through the town.

As Nala approached the castle once more, her gaze was drawn to a recent notice pinned to the bulletin board, the royal family's official seal prominently stamped at the top. A frown creased her brow as she absorbed the urgent message, a sense of unease stirring within her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something needed to be done, especially since this situation had persisted for weeks.

The weight of their words was immediately replaced with the warmth of seeing their daughter. Calliopra, ever graceful yet burdened with responsibility, smiled faintly while Leona, her steadfast mate, nodded in acknowledgment.

"Welcome back, my love," Calliopra said, her tone both gentle and concerned. "How was your walk? You look… thoughtful."

Nala hesitated for a moment, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the bread roll and pastries she carried. “It was good,” she replied, her voice initially laced with a quiet intensity that quickly softened into a smile. “The streets are alive with the usual bustle—vendors calling out, warriors on patrol, locals chatting, and children playing. I stopped by the Sweet Whisk, and once again, Mr. Theo Crumbleton asked after you, Mum.” She handed the bag of pastries to Calliopra, eliciting a warm smile from her.

“My dear, it seems Mr. Theo Crumbleton has taken quite a shine to you. Should I be concerned?” Leona teased, gently rubbing Calliopra’s shoulders as a playful smirk danced across her lips.

In response to her wife’s tease, Calliopra’s tail playfully swatted Leona’s shoulders. “I simply appreciate his craftsmanship,” she replied between bites of her pastry. “His family bakery has a rich history intertwined with our kingdom’s castle back in Halfmoon. Plus, I enjoy our conversations, though I must admit it’s been far too long since I strolled through the city.”

After a brief pause, Calliopra revisited her earlier question, observing the contemplative expression on Nala’s face. Nala’s voice took on a quiet intensity as she spoke. “You’re right, Mum. I do have something on my mind.” She moved closer to the table and settled into an empty chair across from her parents. “I’ve been thinking about the ongoing disruption issue. I’d like to offer my help. There are murmurs of shortages, and it seems they will persist longer than expected.”

As Nala spoke, Calliopra offered Leona a pastry from the bag. Leona declined, wanting to respond clearly without distractions, but she took the pastry anyway and placed it in front of her, subtly preventing Calliopra from taking it. Leona’s expression darkened slightly, concerned with etching deeper lines across her face. “Yes, we’ve heard about the disruptions, but it’s not something we can easily control. The situation is complex.” Her voice remained steady, but a trace of worry lingered, not going unnoticed by either of them.

Calliopra rested her hand on the table, her expression softening as she locked eyes with Nala. "Your curiosity is one of your greatest strengths, Nala. However, you've been preoccupied with your own ambitions—delving deeper into your magical studies, having a mentor, and there are even career possibilities you haven't yet considered. You can't shoulder everything alone simply because you feel duty-bound."

Nala’s brow furrowed slightly, a spark of determination in her gaze. "I know, Mum, but what if there's something I can do? The people in the streets, they trust us to keep things steady. They’re starting to feel the effects of these delays. I think it's time I try to understand this from the ground up, not just from under it."

Calliopra’s eyes softened with a mixture of pride and concern. She reached for one of the pastries, her fingers brushing lightly over the golden crust as she thought for a moment. "Nala, I know you care deeply for our people. The surface is not like the comfort of lands or simple conflicts. It's more complicated, more dangerous, especially from the likes of the Horde and its leader, Hordak. The worst is their well verse dark mage, Shadow Weaver."

Nala's gaze remained steadfast as she looked at her mothers. Growing up, she had often heard stories about the horde; the war, the dark mage, cloaked in the guise of history lessons and training sessions. But now, she understood that these represented real threats. All the lessons had been aimed at preparing her for self-defense, a precaution made all the more urgent by the tragic loss of their first child.

"I understand. The Horde… that dark mage….. Ain’t a joke to mess with. I know I have a mile to go from being perfect. I just want to help. Not only helping the people but also to help relieve the load from you, mother. I can’t just be a princess from a distance. I have to be part of the solution, to be with the people. I believe that’s how I can be the leader they need."

Leona’s voice was calm but firm as she was thinking. Her eyes closed, pointed ears back, her tail swinging on the sides of her chair. Calliopra on the other hand, has softness in her eyes as she chose to speak in Leona's place whilst she is thinking.’

"You don’t know the full situation yet, Nala-"

Nala’s voice was earnest despite how sharp her tongue was, her gaze unwavering as she faced her mothers when she responded fast in Magjca. 
"Humour me, tell me what’s happening. I need to understand."

A deep sigh was heard, coming from Leona, signalling that she managed to piece together what she would say to her daughter. 

"The Horde is just beyond, by one of our checkpoints. They’re setting up some sort of operation - on what, we ain’t sure. We don’t have all the intel yet on why they are there."
Leona continued, her voice steady but heavy with the weight of her words, "This is why we must temporarily close off some of the checkpoints near where Horde soldiers have been spotted. It's crucial they don't discover our hidden borders. It’s a necessary sacrifice, but it will be difficult to explain to the public."

Nala’s eyes widened as the full gravity of the situation settled in, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. "So that’s why the supply routes are delayed. And the people... they don’t know the truth. They can’t. If they knew, there’d be panic."

Leona’s gaze softened slightly, a trace of sorrow in her eyes as she looked at her daughter. "Yes. We’ll issue a public statement about unstable conditions for transport, but the real reason must remain hidden. It’s for the kingdom’s safety. We can’t afford to create unrest, not when the danger is so near."

Nala took a deep breath, a sense of understanding—and resolve—washing over her. "I understand. And thank you for explaining it, Mother." She paused, thinking carefully before speaking again, her voice steady. "I wondered if... I could pause the idea of travelling above ground with Nyx, and focused on assisting with the growth of our food production, lending my healing magic, and supporting the people. I want to help you both, to stand with you, even when it’s hard."

Calliopra’s expression softened with pride as she smiled at her daughter. "You’re wise beyond your years, Nala. But understand this—you have such a big heart. You want to help everyone, even when you don’t know how to care for yourself first.  But don’t push yourself too hard. "

Nala stood up, feeling a weight in the air, but also a sense of clarity. As she did, she noticed that her Mother  had risen to meet her, placing a hand on her shoulders. With a soft but affectionate pat of her tail against Nala’s, she spoke in a tone that was both warm and reassuring. "Don’t worry about the bigger picture for now. We—the council—are working on it. You focus on what you can do. Don’t jump before you can walk, Tiger."

Calliopra felt this moment was an opportunity to share the truth about C’yra. ‘Nala, there’s something I need to—’

Before she could finish her thought, Leona, sensing where the conversation was headed, stepped in. She wrapped her arms around Nala in a rough, affectionate hug and playfully scented her cheek, as a mother cat would to her kitten. "Hey, stop it!" Nala laughed, swatting at her mother's cheek. "No! You see what you did to my hair!" She grinned, wiping her face before bidding them both goodbye and leaving the room.
As Nala stepped out, Leona sank into an armchair by the window, the silence hanging thick between the two queens. Calliopra remained seated at the table, her gaze distant as she considered what had just transpired.

Finally, Calliopra spoke softly, her voice laced with concern. "That was a lot to take in."

Leona’s response was steady, but the weight of the conversation lingered in her tone. "Yes, it was."

Calliopra looked at her, brow furrowing slightly. "And why did you stop me from telling Nala the truth about her sister? It seemed like the right moment, despite everything else."

Leona sighed, her eyes heavy as she met her mate’s gaze. "Calliopra, I feel we can’t tell Nala about C’yra, not now. This is one of the most difficult moments we’ve ever faced. I’m afraid of what the truth would do to her." She paused, her voice distant as she considered the impact of her words. "There’s the looming threat of danger, the restructuring of the defence task force, and Nala’s growing burdens with her people and her research... It’s simply not the right time."

A furrow of concern deepened on Calliopra’s brow. "But when is the right time? I know we’re both queens with duties, but there’s never truly a perfect moment, my love," she said, her voice soft yet laced with urgency. "The timing may be delicate, but it’s better to act sooner than later."

Leona stood and walked over to her, the tension thick in the air. As Calliopra turned her chair to face her, Leona positioned herself between her legs, their proximity both grounding and charged with the weight of their conversation. Their eyes locked, Leona’s gaze firm but weary. "I understand," she said quietly, "but I’ve made my decision. We can’t overwhelm her now. I’ll take this on. Please, understand."

Calliopra’s ears flicked back, her tail swishing anxiously against the chair’s backrest. Her sharp expression softened, and her ears slowly returned to their normal position. She placed her hand gently over Leona’s, offering a silent yet unwavering gesture of support. "We face this together, like we always have."
Leona squeezed Calliopra’s hand, drawing strength from the quiet, steady reassurance in her touch. "I hope you’re right," she murmured, her voice thick with uncertainty, though the warmth of Calliopra’s presence helped steady her resolve.

Commander Octavia stood in her tent, poised and expectant, waiting for a familiar presence. Suddenly, a dark aura seeped into the space, saturating the air with an unsettling energy. Yet, she felt no alarm; she knew who had arrived.

Darkness dances along the canvas walls as the atmosphere crackles with unspoken urgency. Before her loomed the form of Shadow Weaver, an imposing figure cloaked in a darker shade. A menacing mask obscured her features, but those piercing eyes seemed to penetrate the very depths of Octavia's soul, even though she understood that this was merely a shadow spell, not the physical presence of her leader.

“Commander,” Shadow Weaver’s voice cut through the silence, low and ominous, “I trust you bring news regarding our mission—the capture of Princess C’yra.”

Octavia inhaled deeply, steeling herself for the encounter. “Yes, I’m here to provide an update.”

With an air of gravity, Shadow Weaver gestured toward the table. “First, I present to you this harness.” She placed the enchanted object before Octavia, its dark aura palpable and throbbing with power. “This harness incorporates not only my magic but also a fragment of The Black Garnet. At first, I found it unusual that Dr. Vex supplied this empty shell of a harness, but your note clarified its significance. I commend your ingenuity.”

“Thank you, Shadow Weaver,” Octavia replied, her voice steadying. “The operation has progressed well. We have successfully gathered and transported a diverse array of creatures—approximately 85% from the Whispering Woods—and acquired additional resources from the area. Furthermore, I have pinpointed potential locations where the magicat may be hiding, and plans for her capture and containment are finalized.” A flicker of concern crossed her face. “However, the risk of discovery remains high. We are perilously close to several princesses, including She-Ra. We were fortunate that the mages managed to cast hidden spells.”

Shadow Weaver’s expression darkened, her eyes narrowing. “I recommend we cease operations in the Whispering Woods. Leave asap. We have gleaned what we can. The magic within that place is elusive—its power tantalizingly close yet frustratingly out of reach.”

“What of Hordak?” Octavia inquired, her brow furrowing with concern.

“Silence!” Shadow Weaver snapped, cutting her off with a sharpness that made Octavia flinch. “I will handle Hordak, as I always do. Remember, the magicat is our primary objective. The intelligence we have gathered stems from this operation, which serves our main focus—the only known half of the Tiger Eye Runestone.”

Shadow Weaver leaned forward, the weight of her authority pressing upon Octavia like a heavy mantle. “I’ve entrusted you with the mission to locate and capture the magicat, Octavia. I have reviewed your plan, and with this powered harness, it should succeed—provided you do not falter. I will allocate the necessary manpower for this endeavour.”

Octavia smirked, her confidence rekindled. “I can’t wait to face that magicat brat again. It’s been far too long since I’ve had a proper sparring session.”

The chill in Shadow Weaver’s voice sent a shiver down Octavia’s spine. “If there is nothing further, I shall take my leave.”
Before Octavia could respond, the dark mage vanished as suddenly as she had appeared, leaving the tent feeling strangely empty. The atmosphere returned to normal, and Octavia turned toward the exit, ready to relay updates to the other captains. Activating her trackerpad, she began making preparations for the mission ahead, determination igniting within her.

In the vast makeshift home constructed against the cave wall, the female magicat has retreated from the world for countless days since the incident in Thaymor. At night, she ventured out to hunt, and brought back leftovers to prolong her seclusion.

Her home was made with a blend of wooden poles and large branches, covered with mud, leaves, ferns, moss, grass, twigs, and a tangle of brambles to deter intruders. The damp moss cradled her feet, while the earthy scent of wet soil seeped into her fur, grounding her in the moment.

As the sun’s rays filtered through the canopy above, dappled light fell in patches upon the clearing near her den. She decided in a fit of spontaneity, she began to groom herself aggressively, licking her fur with wild abandon, paying special attention to every inch of her body—including her more intimate areas—to rid herself of any pesky parasites She had been restless for days, and today, in a rare moment of spontaneity, she decided to step out into the open, to breathe in the fresh air.

Her hand sank slightly into the soft, moist earth as she moved toward the edge of a small puddle, the water clear and still under the calm sky. The puddle had grown larger with the recent rains, and now it formed a shallow pool, its surface reflecting the world around it like a glass mirror.
She approached it slowly, the soft rustling of the underbrush the only sound breaking the silence. Her claws clicked against the stones along the edge of the water, her movements measured and deliberate. Her thirst pulled her closer, and without hesitation, she lowered her head to drink. The cool water splashed against her tongue, soothing her dry throat, the quiet ripples spreading outward as she lapped at it.

But then, something caught her eye—a flicker, something that distracted her from the thirst she had been quenching. Her eyes, still fixed on the surface, saw the faintest glimpse of something she hadn’t expected to notice. She paused mid-drink, her gaze lifting, and her reflection came into full view. She sat back on her haunches, her claws gently touching the surface of the water, sending small ripples skittering across it.

The image of herself stared back at her, her fur slightly matted from the dampness of the air, her eyes wide and searching. She sometimes feels what she's looking at and instead another creature. It has been ongoing since she was younger. Those years, to a time when she had still been unsure of the differences between herself and her small family. The way he looked, the way they moved, the way their magic felt—it was almost as if there was a subtle difference between them, an inkling she couldn’t quite place. But in her adult life, in the light of new discoveries, it made sense. 

Her other hand slowly reached for the edge of the puddle, fingers pressing into the muddy earth. The cool sensation against her claws rooted her, but beneath the stillness, a storm of emotions churned, leaving her unsettled. Since the incident in Thaymor, confusion had gnawed at her. She had seen humanity's true nature, and now she wondered—Is this what awaits her when she finds her people? If so, was she doomed to become like them where they take and take from nature and abuse the life cycle of animals in nature?
This question gnawed at her, relentless. Her time since living among her own, as she searched for clues to her people who looked like her, had only deepened her confusion. The world they inhabited thrived on conflict. When others encroached on her territory, attempting to steal her food and space, Catra had always responded as she knew best—with claws bared as the last resort. But their reactions were often unpredictable, leaving her more lost. Her mother's words echoed in her mind: the world was confusing, different from what she had known.

Catra closed her eyes, how could she find her place when the world around her felt so foreign? With a deep breath, she went back into her den, to feast leftover meat. 

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After some time, Catra reluctantly picked up a piece of meat, from a surface nearby. It’s from a bug-like creature she encountered last night. She couldn't help but grimace at the thought; it was one of the many things she was still adjusting to in this strange environment. With a savage jab of her claw, she raked at the bug limb. The hard shell cracked under her might, her talon leaving a deep gouge that spilled forth a repulsive, foetid odour—a nauseating blend of rot and a sickly sweet undertone. She had ripped through many things in her brutal life: scurrying rodents, squawking birds, even the odd fruit when survival demanded exploration. But this? This was something she was still getting used to. 

Wiping the remnants of flesh and juice from her forearm, Catra’s gaze drifted to the far end of her den, where a thought flickered to life: it was time to follow Nyx's lead. The mysterious being had offered help, but was it really that simple? A pang of doubt gripped her—could it really be that easy? Yet, as she recalled Nyx's appearance, the shared traits and the familiar tail she had glimpsed in the reflection of the water, something stirred within her.

Catra stepped outside her den, craving the stretch of her limbs. The fresh air enveloped her like a warm embrace, and a gentle breeze playfully tousled her mane, revitalizing her spirit. As she glanced at her arm, she noticed the glow patterns flickering across her skin. Tilting her head, she inspected it closely, her arm raised against her nose. She pondered the mystery of why the patterns appeared and vanished so unpredictably. For a moment, the desire to venture out tugged at her, but then the pull of a nap overtook her—not from fatigue, but because, like any feline, she relished the comfort of a peaceful rest under the sky.

Chapter Text

In a shocking turn, the Horde’s operation, once a looming menace, had suddenly disassembled overnight. Their unknown project seemed to have finished. The Royal Court of the Eclipse Kingdom, though pleased with this, they still felt uneasy about why they were there in the beginning. The Court felt the kingdom’s new Task force’s were still necessary. 

Nyx had been keeping herself occupied with her newfound responsibilities, and in the midst of her duties, she managed to track down both of the magicat queens together somewhere in the castle. With her trademark playful grin, Nyx approached, her voice laced with teasing warmth.

“Calliopra, I could tell that there is an element of your taste when designing this new uniform, It feels a bit... official,” she remarked, her eyes scanning the sharp lines and dark hues of the structured attire. Twirling in the outfit, she continued, “I suppose it’s the mask that gives it that traditional touch—though it does hide my beautiful face.”

Queen Calliopra’s lips curled into a faint smile, her eyes shimmering with the pride of everything they had accomplished. “I warned you about this ages ago, Nyx. I’m pleased to see you’ve proven exactly why we chose you. You’re so much more than a lone operative or a guard. This uniform symbolizes the progress we've made and the future we're shaping.” She adjusted the mask on Nyx’s face.

Leona, her gaze steady and unfaltering as she gave a small nod of agreement.

All three walked through the hallway, until they stopped outside a window overlooking the kingdom view. There was a brief pause, before Calliopra’s expression shifted to something more thoughtful. “Actually,” she began, her voice a touch more somber, "Nala has reconsidered her decision about the trip. She feels compelled to help the magicat people, especially with the delayed food deliveries and the other problems they're facing."Don’t get me wrong, it's nice to see that she wanted to take the role of princess seriously (despite how that wasn’t always the plan) but me and Leona felt it’s too soon for this.”

Nyx paused, her fingers tapping thoughtfully against her chin. Nala had always been the giver, even as a child. To see her set aside personal pursuits in favour of serving her people—now that was different. Still, something about Nala’s demeanour gave Nyx pause. 

"Leona, Calliopra, I’m still happy to keep my offer open to take Nala up to explore the lands of Etheria for a day" Nyx said, her voice casual but with a touch of sincerity. "The real danger seems to have settled down, so it could be the perfect time for her to step away, have a little fun, and experience some adventure—just like she always wanted. You know, exploring creepy magical plants. It’ll be a nice little auntie-duo outing." Her tone lightened, a playful grin creeping onto her face.

Calliopra let out a low, amused laugh at Nyx’s words, her eyes twinkling with a mixture of fondness and understanding. "Maybe you're right," she said, her voice softening. "The tricky part is getting her to actually leave, though. She’s been so caught up in assisting Eldrin Windrider’s office lately."

Leona smirked as she commented, ‘The minute you say ‘Etheria’ or ‘magical creepy  plants’, I feel like that wouldn't take much convincing.’

Meanwhile, Catra moved quietly among the tall tree’s branches, as the feline leapt from one to another. She had been searching for the mysterious feline for some time now. Ever since she had last caught wind of a mysterious figure who had caught her interest—someone whose presence seemed both elusive and captivating.

Her search continues, along with finding her next hunt. 

The corridors of the underground were filled with the steady hum of life, but there was an air of anticipation as Nyx and Nala moved through them. The path was familiar to Nyx—one she had walked countless times—but to Nala, it was a different experience. The corridor was lit by flickering flames, casting long shadows that danced along the stone walls. 

This main tunnel was accessed only to those truly embedded within its ranks or has authorisation for community best interests. The main tunnel from the Eclipse Kingdom acts like the trunk of a massive tree, twisting and turning at regular intervals, each bend a purposeful design meant to confuse and protect. These were not just any passageways; they acted as checkpoints—dividing paths that led to further hidden routes, ensuring only the trusted could navigate their way through the labyrinthine tunnels.

The soft sound of footsteps echoed. Up ahead, guards stood at attention, their posture alert and unwavering. They were always watchful, prepared for any challenge that might arise.

" Who goes there ?" one of the guards called out in Magjca, his voice clear and steady, cutting through the stillness of the passageway.

Both figures came to a halt, a playful grin tugging at Nyx’s lips as she stepped forward, her presence cutting through the tension.

" Oh, it’s just you, Lady Nyx !" the other guard exclaimed, his tone light and warm, a touch of relief in his voice. His gaze flickered to her, but he failed to notice the other figure trailing behind her, still cloaked in the shadows.

Before either guard could ask further questions, Nyx raised a hand, her tone playful but with an edge of authority. “ I’m taking them under my wing for a bit ,” she said in her native tongue. Nala stood quietly beside her, as Nyx continued “ I’ll be watching over them, so no need to worry about any surprises .”

The guards exchanged quick glances, their confusion momentarily clearing as they processed the statement. A knowing smile spread across the first guard’s face, and he gave a respectful nod.

“ Understood, Lady Nyx ,” he said, his voice now laced with a mix of deference and curiosity. They stepped aside, allowing Nyx and Nala to continue on their way.

As they neared the end of the passage, the air grew colder, and the smooth, polished stone floor beneath their feet began to shift, giving way to a rougher, more uneven texture that signalled they were approaching the natural earth.

"What's this?" Nala asked, her eyes narrowing as she was the first to scrutinize the ‘dead end’ in their path. In her mind, Nala had never seen such ancient looking magical patterns before. Nyx’s gaze followed hers, she had seen those stonework before. Intricate magical symbols were etched into the surface.

"Patience, kid. Watch and learn," Nyx replied casually, though Nala could see the glint of focus in her eyes. As she stepped back to give space, Nala muttered under her breath, “Kid? You’re the bigger one here.”

Nyx began tapping her fingers rhythmically against the stone. Nala raised an eyebrow, curious, but said nothing. To be honest, this was unnecessary as Nyx was joking with Nala. 

Nyx placed her palm against the cold surface. A moment of concentration passed, and as if summoned by her touch, hidden bracelets materialized on Nyx’s wrist. A faint light radiated from the symbols on the stone, and the air around them shimmered. With a soft grinding sound, the stone began to shift, slowly dissolving into an opening—an archway without a door—through which the distant sounds of birds chirping, a gentle breeze, and a soft light filtered through.

Nala’s eyes widened in awe. "You can do that?" she whispered, astonished.

“Being the leader of a task force that guards these areas has its perks,” Nyx said, grinning at her. “Plus... who are you calling a kid, kid?” She elbowed Nala playfully as she spoke.

With a final nod, they continued through the opening. As they walked, the air shifted, moving from the damp, earthy scent of the underground to something fresher. They had emerged from the land of Etheria, stepping into the Whispering Woods. As the passageway behind them faded, its magic activated, sealing it away once more.

The sunlight hit Nala’s face like a warm wave, bright and overwhelming. She blinked, momentarily disoriented by the vastness of the world beyond the tunnel. The Whispering Woods stretched before them, its towering trees swaying gently in the breeze. The familiar scent of earth, grass, and leaves filled the air. This was the world she had once adored—the world that had always felt alive with magic.

Nala quickly reached for her journal, hidden beneath her cloak, and bent down to examine a magical plant nearby.

"The illustrations... and the stories people tell... they don't do this place justice," she murmured, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "What I’m seeing... it’s truly beautiful."

Nyx walked up beside the kneeling Nala with a grin. "Hey, don’t get too sentimental. I still need to introduce you to Sunset Spice Tarts."

Chapter Text

Catra padded through the underbrush with practiced stealth, as she has been traveling further than she usually has for hunting. Her sharp blue and yellow eyes flicked back and forth, scanning her surroundings with a keen awareness.

For the past few weeks, something had felt off. The usual sounds of nature, the lands, forest—the chirping birds, the rustle of small creatures in the underbrush, even coming across bigger animals—has strangely become fewer. This also includes her hunting becoming progressively harder. The nights had been long and the hunger deepened. She’d managed to scrape by with smaller insect grubs. Catra’s tail flicked in irritation.

Today, it seemed quieter than ever. The air hung heavy with an unnatural stillness, and even the thick foliage seemed to press in, as though holding its breath. The usual chorus of birds was quieter, and the rustle of small animals through the underbrush had all but vanished. Even the monstrous insects refrained from their usual roaming. It was as though the entire forest was hiding from something—a presence too powerful to face, or perhaps, something even more dangerous lurking just beyond her reach.

Catra dismissed the unease with a sharp shake of her head. Maybe resting somewhere is what she needs. With a low growl, she sprang into action, darting silently through the underbrush on all fours, merging with the shadows of the bushes. Her hunger drove her forward—finding her next meal was the priority. But if fate was on her side, perhaps she'd also cross paths with the mysterious figure. That would be a bonus.

Unbeknownst to Catra, a hidden drone hovered high in the trees, barely noticeable against the sky. It tracked her every movement, transmitting live feeds as it silently followed her through the forest.

Perfuma's home was nestled inside a massive tree. She stood on the balcony woven from its branches, her heart light as she breathed in the sweet, fragrant air of Plumeria. With the sun rising high, casting a warm, golden glow through the sprawling leaves of her treehouse palace, she felt a surge of gratitude for her kingdom and its people. The enchanting sounds of the village danced through the air; laughter and playful shouts from children mingled with the soft rustle of leaves and the distant trickle of a stream.

She turned away from the view, excitement bubbling within her. Today was her day to enjoy some catch up over some tea with Bow and Mermista, as the others got plans or unwell - in Spinnerella’s case. As she descended the winding staircase of her tree palace, the intricately carved wooden beams welcomed her like old friends.

As she arrived in the heart of her kingdom, Perfuma was greeted by the enthusiastic cheers of her people, a vibrant tapestry of floral textiles and radiant smiles. Children hurried to her side, eager for her attention, their small hands clutching wildflowers they’d picked from the season’s bloom. Perfuma knelt down to admire their colourful bouquets, her heart swelling with joy.

“Princess Perfuma! Look what we found!” a pair of sisters exclaimed, breathlessly displaying a daisy chain that one of them had fashioned into a crown. “Can you wear it?”

“Of course, I can! It’s beautiful, just both of you!” Perfuma replied, placing the delicate crown atop her head. Laughter erupted as the other children cheered, surrounding her with warmth. 

Yet, as the princess continued to wander through her village, her mind lingered on something more serious. Perfuma had recently been reviewing the reports for nature including farmlands. She had noted a concerning trend. The usual balance of larger animals and prey seemed off. Perfuma found this strange, but she chose to remain optimistic for the time being. "We are in a new season," she reasoned to herself, hoping that was the cause. After spending some time chatting with her people, Perfuma’s friends arrived, and soon they settled in the centre of the kingdom, where a small festival was going on.

“So, how’s everything going?” Bow broke the silence, his voice laced with genuine curiosity.

“Things are pretty good!” Perfuma beamed, her eyes sparkling. “Recent harvest is better than last one so that's why there’s a festival going on at the moment” She took a sip of her herbal tea, savouring the flavours.

Bow chuckled, “You’ve got to hand it to the Plumerians, they sure know how to throw a festival.”

Mermista, with her usual straightforwardness, leaned in, her expression shifting to one of mischief. “I've been curious about that rumoured beast since It was mentioned.” She wiggled her fingers in a dramatic claw gesture.

Perfuma chuckled, shaking her head. “Actually, there hasn’t been any sighting of it for some time now. In Fact, the villagers under my land have really rallied together to build sturdier fences surrounding their borders. You could say it’s a pur-fect solution that worked itself out in the end.” She winked, pleased with her pun.

Perfuma then inquired about how Mermista had been. As they sipped their drinks, Mermista helped herself to some nibbles from a plate, her eyes gleaming with delight. “Well, that's good to hear about your villagers. With me, I could still use some excitement in my life, you know? It’s like the ocean is getting a little too calm for my taste.”

Bow eagerly jumped in, “Didn’t you and Seahawk go out recently, and it ended with the burning boa—”

Before he could finish, Mermista exclaimed, “That wasn’t caused by us! It was only one time, folks! One time!” Laughter erupted around them.

Bow sat back with his arms, on either side as he stared at the view, his brow furrowed, his tone shifting to something more serious. “I don’t normally bring up alliance meeting talk here—”

“But you’re about to, heart boy,” Mermista teased, a playful grin spreading across her face.

Bow couldn’t help but smile at the nickname that was based on his outfit, but his expression soon turned serious again. “I just can’t believe they’re targeting villages again. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to figure out their plans since it’s random. My arms are just starting to recover from our last defense. I really wish they’d go back to being quiet like before. Sometimes I wish they’d just… leave the planet or something.”

Perfuma nodded, her expression softening. “I understand, Bow. It’s exhausting. But hey, at least we had a chance to catch our breath when the Horde was quiet ages ago.” She gestured around them, the serene atmosphere standing in stark contrast to the weight of their worries. Bow lifted his tea cup in a toast. “To us being here and having a break! Including those who aren’t here.”

Mermista raised her glass, a determined glint in her eyes. “And to being princesses!”

“Absolutely!” Perfuma chimed in, her voice warm and inviting. ‘Yeah.’ Bow also chimed in without realising what he just did. They clinked their drinks together, laughter mingling with their shared resolve.

Then Perfuma paused, realization dawning on her. “Wait a second….”

Mermista leaned closer to Perfuma and whispered, “He comes as a package deal with Glimmer.” She winked, hinting at the bond between Bow and Glimmer.

Bow caught their exchange and raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “What are you two whispering about?”

The women exchanged amused glances before Perfuma replied with a grin, “Oh, nothing.” Their laughter echoed, briefly lifting the heaviness of their concerns.

Somewhere in an unknown location, hidden from the eyes of the world, an army lay hidden in wait. They were shielded by an advanced barrier, powered by four towering pillars, each one a marvel of Horde technology unique to this world. 

The pillars hummed with energy, their intricate mechanisms glowing with an eerie light as they projected a nearly impenetrable shield. This powerful invention, a product of forbidden tech, advanced science and dark magic (something that is not natural and against what Etheria’s is about). This shield ensured that no one would find them, or what they were preparing for. 

Thorne cleared his throat as he approached the open outdoor meeting space where Commander Octavia stood, back to him. A large table was set up, displaying a massive map, flanked by digital screens on the table, that faced the assembled team. Before he could speak, Octavia anticipated him and said, “Yes.”

Thorne waited patiently as the commander activated a live feed on the digital screen in front of them, revealing their target, the feral hybrid aka the magicat princess, blissfully unaware of their presence.

“There you are,” Octavia said, her voice brisk. “You’re here because you wanted updates, and here it is. One of the Horde’s robotic scouts has spotted our feral hybrid, and she’s close to the Plumeria Kingdom.”

Thorne replied, “I need to emphasize that any action near there is too risky. It could draw the princess known as Perfuma’s attention, which would then rally the alliance. But I have a feeling you won’t be dissuaded. After all, you’re the type who’d seize the chance to kill two birds with one stone for the sake of the mission, aren’t you?”

Octavia chuckled. “Yes, that does sound like me. But, I’m thinking strategically. The kingdom will be collateral damage in this mission, but frankly, I don’t care. What matters to me is avoiding the wrath of Shadow Weaver while enjoying a good fight with that magicat-beast.”

Thorne smirked. “Seems like your plan demands an awful lot of manpower for just one little beast,” he teased, fully aware it would get a reaction from his commander.

Octavia turned to him, her gaze sharp. She pointed at the still image of the magicat feral target on the screen. “Shadow Weaver, fully supports me in deploying whatever resources I need to capture the feral princess. The soldiers might be expendable, but none of your dark associates will be at risk.” 

Thorne crossed his arms, searching for a retort, but nothing came to mind.

Octavia then removed her Horde-issued cape, revealing a new set of gear, including accessories for her tentacles, which she flexed with practiced ease. As Thorne walked around the commander, he offered a smirk. "Glad to see you didn’t waste time on trinkets from Dr. Vex, then.”

"You wanted an update? The plan is on track," Octavia replied, her tone cool and decisive. 

“The plan is still on track. Removing the animals has caused a disruption, creating an imbalance in the ecosystem. Recent footage shows the wild magicat hybrid, driven by hunger, now prowling near a village—exactly as I predicted.” The real stroke of luck is it’s close to the Plumeria Kingdom. This is an unexpected but advantageous development. We have unfinished business with that kingdom, and this provides the perfect opportunity. We’ll corner the magicat and deal with both issues simultaneously: neutralize the enemy kingdom and capture the magicat.”

Thorne eyed Octavia with a sly smirk. "And what if that feral kitten gets the better of you again, from the murmurs among those who witnessed your first defect with the hybrid? Especially since the first time she was just a teen, and now she's an adult. Hmm, not a good look if you get defeated twice.’

Octavia didn’t respond verbally, only offering a sharp nod that signalled him to leave. 

"Okay," Thorne replied.  "I’ll pass this update to Shadow Weaver." With that, Thorne turned and moved away from the table, disappearing with a soft hum of magic.

"Let’s get this mission started," Octavia muttered under her breath. Then, she raised her voice, barking orders to the soldiers nearby.

Chapter Text

In Brightmoon, the training grounds were alive with the sounds of battle as among the Brightmoon soldiers training. And then there were Adora and Netossa sparring, pushing each other to their limits. Adora, wielding the Sword of Protection with precision and power, faced off against Netossa, whose whip cracked through the air with expert precision, each swing a dance of fluid grace and agility.

"You're improving, Adora, but maybe if you transformed into that golden girl of yours, it would make things more interesting!" Netossa called out, her tone light and teasing as she twirled, effortlessly sidestepping Adora's strike.

Adora grinned, sweat glistening on her forehead. "Is my strength not enough for you? Sounds like you’ve already missed She-Ra," she shot back, her voice steady with determination. "Don’t think I’ll make it easy on you." With a fierce swing, she sliced her sword through the air in a wide arc, aiming for a decisive blow.

Netossa’s whip lashed out, deflecting the sword just in time. “You’re predictable. Try something different!” she taunted, her movements fluid as she darted back, looking for an opening.

Their movements were a seamless blend of strength and finesse, their bond as both friends and fighters evident in every exchange. Adora’s focus was razor-sharp, each strike refined through countless battles, while Netossa’s swift reflexes kept her on the defensive, expertly using her whip to counter and evade with precision.

“I’m not giving up that easily,” Adora said with a smirk, charging forward again, this time feinting a strike to the left before swinging to the right.

“You wanna bet” Netossa replied, gracefully dodging again, but there was a glint of admiration in her eyes.

Meanwhile, Glimmer sat off to the side, resting against a wall, her eyes closed as she focused on relaxing.  The strain of recent rebuilding efforts had taken a toll on her. With the help from her mother and Auntie Castaspella, Glimmer manages to train and learn ro recharge her strength outside of the recharging pod through understanding her inner magic aura.  

“You guys are going to wear yourselves out at this rate,” Glimmer muttered, barely opening her eyes. “Don’t forget we’ve got a bigger battle ahead.”

Adora laughed, wiping her brow. “Don’t worry, Glimmer. We’ll be ready.”

Netossa flashed a grin. “Besides, a little sparring keeps us sharp.”

As she rested, Glimmer felt the familiar warmth of her magic slowly returning. Her thoughts drifted to Bow, who was visiting Perfuma at her kingdom. Glimmer, Adora, and Netossa hadn’t been able to join him—they already had plans for the day, and Glimmer’s teleportation was off the table. Still, the trio had agreed that if they had enough time, they might visit Plumeria later.

“Maybe we should think about taking a break soon, before one of you sprains something,” Glimmer teased with a wink, her energy steadily returning.

Her comment made Adora laugh, and in the moment of distraction, she didn’t realize she’d been knocked off balance by Netossa’s swift move. Before she knew it, Adora was sitting on her bum. The trio burst into laughter, their earlier tension replaced by the light-heartedness of the moment.

In the dreams, Catra’s subconscious painted vivid images. She found herself crunching in a hallway,  two majestic figures flanking her, they looked like her? Catra wasn’t sure. Their presences radiated warmth and an emotion she couldn’t understand. They gazed at her with tender eyes, their voices melding together in soothing tones that whispered of pride and familial bonds. However the voices sound meddled up.

“C’yrrrraaah, our little kitten, we love you so much,” they said, their ethereal forms flickering like shadows.

The dream shifted abruptly, and a dark figure emerged, cloaked in shadows—a sinister being, brandishing fire. Catra watched in horror as it unleashed their  fury upon a castle, flames licking at its walls, consuming its beauty. As much as Catra kept running, the echoes of destruction reverberated through her soul, leaving her breathless.

The nude hybrid awoke, sweat glistening on her peach-fuzz skin. Beads of perspiration dotted her brow, traced her chest, and ran down her arms. She rose, shaking off the remnants of sleep, her senses sharpening as the rumble of her empty stomach echoed in the stillness. Instinctively, her tongue flicked out, searching for the faintest scent to guide her toward food. Still energized from her brief rest, she was ready for the hunt.

After a moment of gathering herself, Catra climbed a nearby tree to survey her new surroundings. The landscape was unfamiliar, and anxiety gnawed at her. She dropped from the tree, landing with a soft thud. Uncertain of what lay ahead, her survival instincts nevertheless urged her forward.

She’d told herself  that she would avoid other being’s populated areas, however so far into this hunt on further travels, has been fruitless. Now, the hunger gnawing at her insides left little room for hesitation. She could survive this. She could handle whatever came her way. With a deep breath, she steeled herself. What was the worst that could happen?

Catra needed to prepare. She scanned the ground, searching for the perfect mixture of mud. She scooped handfuls of earth into her palms and smeared it across her body, including her face. She’d learned this technique from the great apes back in her younger days. They’d explained how hippos used mud to stay cool, but for Catra, it helped her blend into her surroundings, masking her scent and appearance.

Once covered, she glanced back at her pouch, resting on the ground where she had slept. The once deep red with gold and white highlights had long since lost its vibrant colours, now stained brown colour from dirt and debris. She slung it over her shoulder, the weight of the bag comforting in its familiarity. Inside was only a small, wooden feline figurine—a thing of sorts that brought her a sense of comfort.

Just as she was about to set off, Catra remembered one last thing. She crouched down a random spot nearby and released a stream of warm urine, splattering it against the soft earth. The act was primal, a declaration of ownership over this territory. She let the sound of her growl resonate through the ground, marking her claim with raw defiance.

Satisfied, she sprang into action, muscles coiling and then launching her body from the ground, leaping gracefully into the branches above. With no clear destination in mind, she moved swiftly through the trees, unknowingly heading toward the Plumeria Kingdom.

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Nyx and Nala rested on a fallen tree log, their bodies tired from the day's journey. The morning had been full of activity—first, a visit to Thaymor, where they indulged in the village's famous pastries. Then, they met a local mage who gave Nala some magical tips. The same mage kindly offered to help them travel faster, and with little time to spare, he teleported the two disguised magicats to Seaworthy. Their latest stop had been Sea Elf Village.

It had been a peaceful day, one Nala hadn’t expected to enjoy as much as she did. A soft, almost wistful hum filled the air as Nyx absently sang, lost in thought. She wondered, as she often did, about the whereabouts of her father’s bladed knife. Despite his claws, her father had always carried it with him—an extension of himself, almost like a lucky charm. He had promised to pass it on when she was older, but that never came to pass. He died in the war back in Halfmoon, and neither the knife nor his body had ever been recovered.

Nala, sitting cross-legged on the log beside her, adjusted the plants she’d been picking earlier, her sharp eyes scanning the herbs before tucking them into her pouch. "These..." she murmured softly, plucking a handful of delicate lavender-like plants. They shimmered in the dappled sunlight.

She paused for a moment, her gaze lifting as her thoughts drifted, lost in the quiet of the moment. "It’s strange," she murmured, almost to herself, "how our people... our kingdom once thrived among these lands. Including my older sister, C'yra, back when she was alive."

The name, C'yra, lingered in the air, soft and heavy. Nyx’s expression softened, her fingers pausing on the panpipe as she lowered it into her lap. She studied Nala, her eyes gentle. The adult princess had always been so deeply tied to the memory of her sister, despite never having known her. C'yra had been lost long before Nala was even born, and though there was no sharp pain in Nala's heart, Nyx could sense a quiet sorrow there, a subtle weight that never quite left. It was the same sorrow she had seen in both Queens.

“C'yra would have been the type to wander too far, in curiosity,” Nyx said softly, her voice carrying the weight of a shared memory, “But rather than panic, she would have just soaked in the moment, kind of like you, Nala”

Nala didn’t respond right away. She simply smiled softly, her gaze drifting back toward the distant trees as her fingers absentmindedly rearranged the plants in her pouch. Nyx felt a strange knot in her chest at how Nala spoke of C’yra in the past tense. Despite knowing the older princess was alive and had taken a new name, Nyx couldn’t bring herself to tell Nala.

The two of them settled into a comfortable silence. Nyx, breaking the stillness, suggested with a thoughtful smile, "The day is still young. Let’s see if there’s anything left from your book you still want to find?"

Nala’s eyes brightened, a spark of excitement lighting up her expression. She shot to her feet, her tail flicking with energy. “Yes! Let’s go,” she said, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. 

A memory flashed in Nyx's mind, a conversation she had with Queen Calliopra and Leona only a few days ago, just before they’d departed for their mission.

“Nyx,” Calliopra began, her voice heavy with a quiet urgency as she leaned forward, her gaze intent on Nyx. “There’s something important we need to discuss regarding C’yra.”

Leona, standing beside her, added with a solemn intensity, “Despite the final preparations we’ve been making for C’yra’s retrieval and her eventual arrival, Nala still doesn’t know the truth about her sister being alive.”

She paused, her expression shadowed with the weight of her decision. “I’ve made the choice, on behalf of both of us, that now is not the time. I’ll bear the consequences of that decision alone.” Her words hung in the air, and though the queens had always shared their burdens, sometimes even they struggled to reconcile the conflicting names and memories—C’yra and Catra. It wasn’t something that could be easily untangled, nor something they had the luxury of confronting in the moment.

Nyx’s face remained unreadable, but her eyes softened as she absorbed the gravity of the situation. “I understand,” she said with certainty, her voice steady. 

Her goal was simple: get in, take the food, and leave. Ideally, she’d fill her pouch as much as possible and be on her way. The feline figure moved silently, staying hidden and careful not to draw attention from the inhabitants of this unfamiliar place. Round structures of varying sizes dotted the landscape, their roofs unlike anything she had ever seen. Other buildings were crafted from massive trees, their branches intertwining to form connections, as though they were homes of some sort. The presence of the plants and trees filled the space with a quiet charm, a natural beauty that tugged at her, reminding her of the wilderness outside. Catra couldn’t help but wonder about them. Were they nests, perhaps? Or did they serve as hiding places for the strongest colonies of the main hive, waiting for trouble to strike?

Flowers, strange herbs, and something sweet she couldn’t place. It tickled her nose, made her senses flare, both curious and cautious. The scent of earth mixed with the heady fragrance of blossoms, sweet and thick, almost suffocating. She inhaled deeply, her body drawn to the rich smells. She’d never encountered anything like it before.

As Catra crept closer, her ears twitching at new strange sounds. Some were high, sweet like birds, while others were deep, resonant, vibrating through the air in a way that rattled deep in her chest. This made her fur bristle. It confused her, unsettled her instincts. Naturally, her mind screamed at her to run, to get away from the overwhelming clamour, but her body, driven by hunger, moved forward anyway.

Her eyes scanned the scene ahead, there were lots of beings, Catra wasn’t sure what they were doing. Honestly Catra continued to watch the beings swirled together, some standing still, others twisting in odd motions, arms lifted high. They moved with an ease that seemed foreign to her, untroubled, unconcerned. Voices blended with the strange music, but it wasn’t the sound of mating calls, fights, or the sounds she used. 

Her mismatched eyes were locked on what she had been waiting for. Her mouth watered, her ears perked, and her tail flicked with eager anticipation. Many large flat surfaces draped with odd coverings, but her attention was solely on the one closest to her, where strange piles of food lay waiting.

Her stomach growled, a sharp reminder of her hunger, and without hesitation, she sprang into motion. Fortunately, the strange coverings she wore helped conceal her presence as she crouched on all fours. Her long arm, its claws outstretched, reached up to snatch the food. She scraped it quickly across the surface, devouring it hungrily. After a few mouthfuls, she paused, still on alert. 

Just as she was about to finish and stuff some into her waist pouch, an unsettling knot of unease tightened in her chest. The beings nearby; their voices, and the sounds felt too overwhelming, too close. Panic surged within her, and she froze, a cough rising in her throat. The sound gave away her position. In a flash of fear, she dropped the plate and bolted for cover.

In the distance, a pair of brown eyes, soft with understanding, watched the mysterious creature retreat. Yet, high above, a robotic drone, armed and vigilant, hovered on standby, observing the scene from the sky.

Princess Perfuma paused as she saw something dark darted toward the small hedged border of the massive tree, where the Heart-Blossom runestone was. Perfuma took a slow, deliberate step forward by the edge of one of the hedges and  paused as she watched the large, sleek feline rested against the tree. 

She had seen wild creatures before, but there was something distinct about this one. Its body was cautious, its sharp eyes flicking around, alert to any potential threat. Perfuma’s heart softened with sympathy; the creature was clearly on edge and perhaps hungry? 

Before entering, she returned to the table and grabbed a charcuterie board, its surface mostly covered with cured meats. Her hands glowed with a soft green light as she summoned the fruits—apples, grapes, and berries—vibrant and inviting. Now, she was ready.

Perfuma took a slow, deliberate step forward from around the hedge, careful not to startle the oddly huge feline. She didn’t shell too much as she thought right now is a challenge to approach without spooking it. 

As she approached, the feline’s ears changed toward her before it turned. The feline’s posture stiffened, the long tail flicking against the ground, every muscle in her body tensed. Perfuma inhaled deeply, letting the sweet scent of flowers she carried drift on the breeze, hoping it might help ease the tension. Perfuma smiled gently, her voice soft and melodic as she spoke, hoping to soothe the wild creature. "Hey hey, don’t go please."

She paused at a safe distance, her stance open and non-threatening. The breeze tugged at the hem of her pink sundress, and she let the fabric sway with her relaxed movements. The feline’s wide eyes were filled with wariness, as a low hiss could be heard. The princess showed the plate of food with added feline friendly fruits, to the feline eye level before leaving on the ground. The princess slowly walked back. The feline, despite still hissing, finally realised what that was in the princess’s hand.

“Please,” Perfuma said, her voice soft and soothing. “You look hungry.”

The feline’s gaze flicked nervously from where the food was and to this being’s presence. Her ears flattened in uncertainty. Perfuma stood still, patient, her presence calm as the night. She wouldn’t push. She couldn’t. Perfuma couldn’t blame the creature’s reaction. Perfuma could feel the hesitation, fear and distrust. It was like watching a storm brewing beneath the surface.

Perfuma continued to wander. The more she looked at it, the more she saw something else about it. Before she could fully think on this, the ground beneath her trembled violently, sending a jolt of panic through her. She barely had time to react before a deafening explosion shattered the peace, followed by the sounds of screams in the distance.

Chapter Text

Catra’s body was slumped on the ground, her limbs heavy and unresponsive. She realized the blast must have thrown her into the bushes, and with the muddy fur clinging to her and the dense fog enveloping her, it was unlikely anyone could see her. The smoky air stung the hybrid’s eyes, and she barely managed to crack one blue eye open. It landed on a figure— the same female from before, now motionless against the large tree. A bitter mix of guilt and confusion gnawed at Catra, her emotions flickering. Was this her doing?

As Catra tried to push herself up-her claws against the grass. But the magicat movement stopped the second she noticed her heart pounded, the rhythmic thudding in her chest unsettling. The scar on her collarbone throbbed in rhythm with her heartbeat, a constant reminder of the pain she had suffered at the hands of the black-and-red-clad soldiers years ago—members of the Horde, whose identities remained a mystery to Catra.

The ache wasn't physical; it was something deeper, something unhealed, like a wound that never fully closed. The trauma lingered, its grip tightening around her chest with each breath, each moment of stillness. Her body tensed, bracing for a blow that never came. Just as she began to sink deeper into her thoughts, the sound of sharp, heavy footsteps pierced the fog, snapping her back to the present.

Every muscle in her body went taut as she instinctively pushed her body down,  retreated further into the earth, and under the bush, its sharp ends were stabbing into her skin, mainly her back. It felt cramped but it was needed to not get discovered. She forced herself to stillness, trying to make her presence as small as possible. The air was thick with smoke and gunpowder, her senses overloaded by the tension surrounding her.

Through the thick fog, Catra could make out little more than the blurred outlines and forms of two beings, but they ain’t like the untroubled- friendly beings she witnessed earlier. As the two’s movements were precise and deliberate, perfectly synchronized as they advanced with purpose. They looked like they were searching for something or someone. They paused, scanning the area with practiced precision, unaware of the wild magicat lurking just feet away in the haze. They were soldiers—trained, focused, and oblivious.

The soldiers advanced cautiously toward the unconscious princess, lying motionless against the tree. Their voices, muffled by the sound surrounding them, drifted through the air, but Catra couldn't make out their words. One of the soldiers, a towering figure, knelt down beside the princess, his presence looming over her. The other, quicker and more nimble, had already pulled out a radio, his fingers moving swiftly as he contacted their commander.

"Commander, come in, over," the soldier's voice crackled with urgency. "The princess... She's knocked out. Our first explosion caught her off guard. One of the known princesses of the Alliance."

The voice on the other end responded immediately, low and gravelly, laced with both surprise and cold calculation. "Unexpected. But most likely, that princess isn't alone."

"Yeah, we’re aware of two others. She-Ra ain’t among them," the soldier answered, his hand brushing over the grip of his weapon as his gaze swept the area. His partner kept a watchful eye on the princess. "We haven’t seen the other target yet. It seems it’s maybe in the area."

"With the princess, bring her in," the commander ordered, his tone hard, commanding. "Take her to the vehicle. Guard her well, she’ll be a valuable bargaining chip to the Princess Alliance. The next task is finding the second target before She-Ra and the rest of the princesses catch wind of this attack."

"Understood, Commander. Over and out." The soldier glanced at his partner, who gave a slight nod.

The large soldier crouched down with practiced precision. His movements were smooth, efficient, as he secured the princess in his arms. Lifting her effortlessly over his shoulders like a ragdoll, he rose to his full height. The smaller soldier, moving just as quickly, kept watch as the two of them began to retreat with the princess, their boots crunching softly against the earth as they faded into the mist.

Behind a charred, ruined yurt, nestled among the debris and the lingering smoke from recent explosions, a man’s voice pierced the tense silence. “Perfuma? Where are you? Perfuma?!”

His words, filled with desperation, a firm hand from behind clamped over his mouth, silencing him. Just as the man was about to react, a familiar voice, laced with frustration, stopped him in his tracks.

“It’s just me, Bow,” Mermista said, her voice barely a whisper. “And I have bad news: Perfuma's been taken.”

Bow's heart sank, a flood of anguish sweeping over him. “What? No—no, this can’t be happening. Do you know where they’ve taken her, Mermista?” His voice trembled with a mix of fear and anger, the urgency of the situation pressing down on him.

Mermista let out a sharp sign, her frustration palpable. “They took her past the centre of the kingdom, where some of their attack robots were, but I had to break away to help a family that was under attack. After that, I lost track of them.”

Both of their voices dropped to a low murmur as they moved cautiously, their eyes darting around to avoid detection by the Horde soldiers still prowling the kingdom. They found a hidden spot to sit, out of sight.

“I managed to get high enough to send a distress signal through your trackpad,” Mermista added, her tone soft but reassuring. “Of course, the communication signal decided to act up at the worst possible time. But no one saw me, so... that’s something.”

Bow, his mind racing, let out a deep breath and pulled Mermista into a brief, tight hug. After a moment, he pulled away, his expression shifting to one of grim determination. “All we can do now is hold up until help arrives.”

Mermista nodded, her gaze sharp and focused. “The alliance’s ETA is in ten minutes, at least. Fortunately, we’ve got Netossa with Adora and Glimmer. I made it clear this is full on attack. They’ll be bringing in additional support from Brightmoon’s army.”

Bow nodded, his mind already racing through strategies. “Good. We’ll need to balance our attacks and defences in the meantime. We can’t go after Perfuma until reinforcements arrive. So, how about this: I’ll take the high ground; to attack and keep watch, and you handle things down here. Are you okay with a limited water source?”

Mermista grinned, her confidence shining through. “I’ve got this. I don’t always need water to make things work. I can hold my own on the ground just fine.”

Location: Unknown. Within the radius of the Plumeria Kingdom.

Commander Octavia sat before a tracker pad, her eyes fixed on the live feed from a drone surveying the unfolding operation. The first phase of their plan: an attack on the Plumeria kingdom, was progressing smoothly. An added bonus: she already had the princess of that kingdom, in her custody, unconscious and guarded in a transport vehicle. However, the second target, the feral princess, had yet to be located. Their last known sighting was when they entered the kingdom.

Captain Grizzlor loomed into view, interrupting her thoughts. Octavia’s sharp, commanding gaze never left the screen as her voice, cold and deliberate, cut through the tension.

“You better have good news, Officer,” she warned, her tone low but dangerous.

Grizzlor, usually unshakable, couldn’t help but react. His mane bristled, a rare sign of unease under Octavia’s unyielding stare. His voice, usually gruff, carried a hint of urgency.

“We’ve found her,” he reported, his deep voice reverberating with seriousness. “She tried to escape, but we’ve got a heavy perimeter around her now.”

Octavia’s lips curled into a small, satisfied smile. “Good. I thought it had slipped through our fingers. After the soldiers have weakened it as part of their ‘training’, I’ll take care of that magicat-bitch myself..”

Grizzlor nodded, ready to carry out his orders. “Understood, Commander.” But before he could finish, a force captain—bruised, and covered in slashes—rushed into the tent. He staggered slightly as he reported, his voice strained.

“The feline... it evaded our men when we surrounded it. Now it’s crossed the kingdom’s border. What’s your next command, Commander Octavia?” 

Grizzlor cursed under his breath, his frustration palpable.

Octavia, however, remained calm, a dark gleam of excitement flashing in her eye. She leaned forward, observing the live feed from the drone tracking the elusive magicat, as well as another screen showing the now-occupied Plumeria, which had suffered some damage. “We’ll move all our forces and robots out, to track down the magicat,” she said, her voice steady.

The Force Captain and Grizzlor both exchanged uneasy glances, caught off guard by her response. The Force Captain hesitated before speaking up.

“Are you sure, Commander—?”

Grizzlor cut him off, his voice rising in disbelief. "Are you out of your mind? Look at what we've done, we've completely destroyed and taken over one of the princesses' kingdoms!"

Octavia’s gaze hardened as she turned to him, her voice cutting through the air with calculated menace. “We already have the princess. The kingdom is in disarray. We’ve accomplished more than enough here. Since we didn’t bring out a lot of soldiers, it will be easy to leave on our transports. Now, our next focus is on capturing that feral magicat. Do I make myself clear?”

Silence hung in the air for a moment before Grizzlor grunted, his frustration still simmering but yielding to her command.

Chapter Text

The echoes of destruction reverberated from above as Adora rode Swift wind. Below, Glimmer and Netossa materialized in the heart of the charred remnants of Plumeria, summoned by  Castaspella’s magic, arriving just as Adora and Swiftwind touched down. 

The surrounding plants were reduced to ashes, some homes and buildings reduced to rubble. The atmosphere was heavy with the occasional distant cry of civilians. As they neared the heart of the kingdom, a familiar figure emerged on the horizon, Seneschal, Perfuma's trusted advisor and a steadfast citizen. Despite his visible injuries, he stood tall, positioned in front of the remaining citizens, offering them what little strength and leadership he could provide in the wake of the destruction.

Nearby, Bow knelt, gently comforting a child, while Mermista worked with her magic to restore the devastated plants. Their grim expressions shifted toward the group as they arrived, wordlessly acknowledging the painful reality of their shattered home.

Glimmer’s heart dropped at the sight in front of her. The worry on their faces only confirmed what she had feared. "Hey, you alright! What happened?" she called out as she ran up to both of them. Adora and Netossa followed suit. Except Shift wind, who decided that he needed to check out on the horses nearby.

Bow stepped forward, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion.  “The Horde attacked surprised us,” he said quietly, his voice thick with grief. “Mermista and I did what we could to help, but... ‘He lowered his head, his brow furrowed with guilt. “...Perfuma...” He trailed off, his throat tight, unable to finish the thought.

Mermista, her voice weak but determined, spoke up. “She’s been taken,” she said, her face etched with frustration. “They took her into one of their transports. But after that...” Her voice faltered. 

Mermista slammed her foot into the ground in frustration. “We were so caught off guard, and now Perfuma—” Her words cut off as her leg buckled beneath her. The exhaustion finally caught up to her, and she crumpled, unable to stand any longer. Luckily, Adora was quick to catch her, steadying her before she hit the ground.

Glimmer glanced around at the group, her voice steady but resolute. "We can't think clearly like this. Let's have a breather". The group found a place to sit, with Seneschal offering assistance and making sure they had everything they needed. Adora gently drops Mermista into a seat. 

"Glimmer right," Adora said, her voice calm and reassuring. "Swiftwind is currently in the sky. He’ll alert us if anything else comes our way."

As Bow, Glimmer, Adora, Netossa and General Juliet (via tracker pad), discussed their next steps, they were baffled by the Horde’s unexpected retreat after destroying the kingdom. According to Seneschal, the Heart-Blossom runestone remained untouched, which only deepened the group’s confusion about the Horde's true objectives.

Bow alternated between restocking his quiver, thanks to Glimmer bringing more arrows, and listening to the conversation. Meanwhile, Mermista was resting.

They struggled to figure out where the Horde had taken Perfuma. Bow speculated that the enemy's plans likely stretched beyond a simple attack on Plumeria. Then, something triggered a memory for Mermista.

"I might have an insight into that," she interjected, her voice sharp and focused. "Earlier, I overheard one of the soldiers mention they were heading toward the Whispering Woods—something about another target."

It was impossible to predict what the Horde could want with being in the Whispering Woods. Adora’s thoughts drifting toward Madame Razz. She quickly dismissed the thought. No, it was more likely the Horde was after something far more significant.

Glimmer’s eyes widened as if a realization had just dawned on her. She turned to Adora with a sudden clarity. “What if they’re after the Crystal Castle?”

Adora shook her head, trying to push the thought aside, but it lingered. “The Crystal Castle?” she repeated, her voice faint. “That place is… protected by magic older than even Mystacor itself. The power in there... it’s nothing like what Hordak has ever seen.”

Bow furrowed his brow, his eyes narrowing as he processed the information. “But if the Horde is after it, is there a way they may get through?”

Adora shook her head again, more firmly this time. “Believe me, I’ve learned a lot and seen it from Light Hope.” She paused, considering the implications. “I don’t think they could access the Crystal Castle. 

There was a heavy pause as the group digested the implications of still not knowing why the horde is in the Whispering Woods.

Mermista broke the silence, her voice heavy with exhaustion. "We can't afford to take any chances. What we do know is that the Whispering Woods is vast. We need to act fast if we're going to catch up to them."

As she spoke, Shift Wind’s voice filled Adora’s mind, the message clear but hurried. “Adora, I'm hidden in some bushes, in the Whispering Woods, as I managed to find where the Horde’s forces were.”

Adora’s face tightened with concern, but she responded silently, urging him to be careful. The others were unaware of this new intel, but she knew they had to act quickly.

With a deep breath, Adora relayed the message to the group. “Shift Wind’s tracked the Horde forces. He says he’s keeping his distance.”

Adora continued,  the weight of their next steps pressing on her chest. “Alright, we’re already behind. We’ll head straight for the Horde forces.”

Glimmer, who had been silent until now, immediately began pulling out her communicator. “I’ll update General Juliet with the finalized plan before we go.”

“I’m in,” Bow said, his voice steady. “I’ve got your back, Adora. Whatever happens, we need to stay ahead of them.” Netossa nodded to signal that she was ready to fight. 

Mermista, though still visibly exhausted, met Adora's gaze with unwavering resolve. "I'll stay behind, but not because I want to."

Catra couldn’t remember what had happened back there with them, and she didn’t want to. As she ran, her messy hair whipped across her face, a tangled curtain she didn’t bother to push aside. She was too focused on running, but her running isn’t as fast as she liked it due to low energy levels from lack of food. She had to keep moving until she was safe.

Her anthropomorphic hands and feet struck the earth with force, leaving deep impressions in the soft ground—but she didn't notice. The scent of the place, gunpowder, smoke, something sharp and metallic, clung to her fur, choking her senses. Her mind buzzed, her instincts screaming, but there was something else too... something old, buried deep in her.

It wasn’t the same fear she’d felt before, being hunted by humans or chased from villages. This fear was deeper, gnawing at her from within. Her mind raced in a blur as she sprinted on all fours, the pain in her head only intensifying the chaos.

She paused, her breath ragged as she sank on her side. Catra pressed her head into the ground. She needed a moment to rest, to breathe, so she could continue running.

Her black pointed ears twitched at the sound of a mechanical hum above her. She turned her head just enough to spot a red light and a dark, round shape hovering overhead, watching her. Catra's hand shot out to grab a nearby stone, and in a single, fluid motion, she hurled it with precision. The stone struck its target, and the machine crashed to the ground.

Catra quickly approached the fallen machine, its life extinguished. She remained crouched low to the ground. Leather... rubber... the scent lingered faintly but unmistakably. 

At that moment, figures emerged from the edge of the clearing’s dense vegetation. Their faceless helmets gleamed with an unsettling sheen, reflecting the pale glow of the surroundings. Clad in jagged, battle-worn armour, they moved with terrifying purpose, their steps deliberate and swift, closing in on her with unnerving precision. It was the symbol emblazoned on their chests—a bold, red insignia—that made Catra’s instincts snap into overdrive. The sight of it sent a jolt through her, her mind racing as the pieces clicked into place just in time for them to rush forward, weapons raised and intent clear. 

The first soldier lunged at her, his boots scraping against the dirt as he swung his baton in a wide arc. Catra ducked low, rolling smoothly beneath his strike. In one fluid motion, she extended her claws, aiming for his exposed side, but to her shock, nothing happened. There were no tearing sounds, no cries of pain, only the sharp impact of another soldier's kick. She stumbled back, clutching her side in pain. Glancing at her hand, she flexed her claws, bewildered by the lack of damage.

Catra quickly glanced at her hand, flexing her fingers to extend her claws again, trying to assess why they hadn’t caused the usual damage. Laughter erupted among the soldiers in front of her, their mocking voices cutting through the tension. 

“Nice try, bitch!” the first fighter taunted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “We came prepared. Some of us still remember you from that camping assessment, all those years back.

“Yeah, your claws are useless!” another soldier with a shield joined in, laughter erupting among the soldiers gathered nearby. The rest stood back, waiting for their chance to strike at Catra.

Catra felt a rush of frustration. She didn’t fully comprehend their taunts; all she could think about was the need to hit harder.

Another soldier lunged at Catra, his heavy shield glinting ominously in the light. Without a second thought, she propelled herself forward, her muscles coiling like a spring before unleashing a devastating kick that reverberated through the air. Her feet struck the shield with impact, sending shockwaves through her body and launching her upwards. As she soared, her leg arced toward the soldier who had ignited this fight, connecting with his chest in a powerful blow that sent him crashing to the ground, winded and dazed.

Catra's fangs flashed as she grinned at the dazed soldier, but there was no time to savour the moment. A rough hand seized her tail, yanking her back with a force that ignited a fierce growl deep within her throat. Annoyance flared through her, and instinctively, she dug her fingers into the dry earth beneath her, anchoring herself just long enough to retaliate. With a swift motion, she pivoted and kicked out, her foot colliding with the knee of another soldier. They crumpled to the ground, gasping in pain, but Catra wasn’t finished yet. In a flash, she scooped up a handful of earth from the moist soil and hurled it straight into his helmet, the sludge obscuring his vision and leaving them momentarily bewildered.

Seizing the opportunity, Catra leaped in front of the blinded soldier, her heart racing with adrenaline. She kicked his shield aside, the clang of metal ringing out, an uncomfortable noise to her ears, before seizing the sides of their helmet. With all her might, she slammed their head against the unforgiving ground, just then, she noticed their exposed throat…. her stomach still bothers her…. Her hunger…. Catra's face unconsciously moved closer toward the throat. However, shouting has pulled her back to the moment, pulling away from the knocked out soldier. 

She dropped into a crouch, her haunches bent and claws extended, ready to strike. She caught sight of another soldier barrelling toward her and weapon raised. In a split-second decision, she snatched a discarded shield by her feet,  with a fierce grunt, hurled it like a ball toward the soldier's arm. The shield's aim faltered, striking instead against their throat, but the impact proved even more effective. A sharp, resonant thud echoed through the air as the soldier crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath and howling in pain, clutching their injured throat.

Catra noticed the other soldiers staring in shock as she surveyed the surroundings. She had taken down four of their comrades in swift succession, and it was clear they were rattled. There was no turning back now; the only way to escape them was to confront them head-on—perhaps even to kill.

One soldier stood apart from the others, his uniform slightly different. He reminded her of an alpha, exuding a commanding presence. Suddenly, the stillness was punctuated by the sharp crackle of a radio coming to life in the distance.

Zzzz

A voice emerged from the radio, distorted yet clear.

“Keep entertaining the target, until I’m ready, Officer. Commander over.”

zzzz

Back at the nearby black vehicle, a deep voice rumbled, “This is quite entertaining. Just look at her face when she realized she couldn't use her claws against the latest Horde armour, you were certainly right about this.”

Another voice, smooth and authoritative, responded. It belonged to Commander Octavia. “Yes, I’m impressed by how quickly she’s taken down so many. Bringing the amount of our force we have here was a wise decision. Any updates on the plant princess?”

Force Captain Grizzlor replied, “The plant princess is still out cold. I ensured her prolonged unconsciousness with a little something extra.”

Suddenly, a beep interrupted their conversation, drawing their attention to the dashboard of the vehicle. A warning alert indicated an approaching company—likely the dreaded alliance of evil princesses.

“Make sure to draw those pesky princesses away from here,” Octavia instructed. “Don’t touch the vehicle containing the princess. I’ll expedite matters with the magicat feral princess; I have a feeling she’ll handle most of the soldiers in the clearing quickly.”

Chapter Text

After finishing off the last of the soldiers, Catra noticed they were retreating. Was this her chance? She tensed, ready to drop onto all fours and make a run for it. But before she could move, a sudden crack shattered the stillness, a sharp, vicious snap that split the air. In the blink of an eye, light green tendrils shot out, wrapping around her limbs with unnerving precision. The rope-like vines, extending from hovering robotic drones above, ensnared her arms and legs in an unyielding grip. Her body jerked against the restraints, but it was no use—she was trapped.

Catra strained against the bindings, muscles twitching with growing frustration. A hot surge of desperation ignited within her. The restraints were wrong—unnatural—like an invasion of her very being. Her teeth bared in a snarl, and with a guttural yowl, she unleashed a growl so fierce it rippled through the air, defying the grip that held her.

There was stillness in the air, quietness until Catra heard clapping sounds. She sees a tall form as it comes forward to the light. It was none other than Commander Octavia of the Horde. Catra didn’t recognize her, not from their battle years ago, nor from any prior encounter. Even back then, she’d never known who this person truly was.

‘Don’t go yet, Kitten. You have shown such a good show. ’ The tall, muscular figure with cyan-green skin stood menacingly, arms crossed, just a foot away from the restrained magicat. The magicat remained breathing hard, its eyes were somewhat confused whilst trying to move against its blinds. 

"Nothing to say? Has it been so long that you've forgotten me, feral beast? Let me remind you," the figure sneered.

They used one hand to pull off a metallic patch that covered their left eye, and showed the full scar that is a claw slash on their eye, rendering it blind. While her other hand was her belt holding a selection of weapons. 

‘This, right here, you have humiliated me since all those years ago. But now, I, Commander Octavia, will have a chance for payback.’ 

After some time, a flash appeared in Catra’s mind of the hazy memory of their fight years ago. The head pain and being restrained ended up annoying the magicat. 

"Yooooou..." Catra's voice cracked, calling out to the person she never expected to see again, the same one she’d fought when she was young, the night she lost Adora, the same night she earned the scar on her shoulder.

Octavia returned her eye patch back to cover her scared blind eye. At the same time, she pulled out a knife before showing it super close to the magicat. 

“Ah, the beast can speak,” Octavia taunted, her voice dripping with mockery. “Do you remember this?” She held up a small item, something she had kept close since their last encounter. “Someone else found it after our fight, and I cherished it all these years. I, Octavia, will bring you back to the Horde. But first, I want to have a little fun with you. I can’t wait to repay you for what you’ve given me.” With that, she tapped her covered eye before she sheathed her knife.

Catra barely had time to register the danger of the knife before Octavia’s movements shifted with lightning speed. One moment, the blade was drawn; the next, Octavia had pulled it away and launched a brutal punch into Catra’s stomach. Pain exploded through her body as Octavia struck again and again, each blow forcing Catra's head down and causing her tail to lash out furiously.

Using the tracker pad on her arm, Octavia commanded the drones to release the green ropes that held Catra captive. Catra dropped to one knee, one hand clutching her stomach while the other dug into the earth. A low growl rumbled from her throat, a sound of defiance amidst her suffering.

As Octavia observed Catra, her gaze landed on a dirty pouch slung across Catra’s back. With a swift movement, she stepped forward and yanked it off. The pouch blended seamlessly with the grime of Catra’s fur and mane, a perfect camouflage that only fuelled Catra’s anger—this was hers, and hers alone.

Octavia leaped back, adopting a more aggressive stance as she examined her find. “Hmm, another mantelpiece? Or perhaps something more valuable. I’ll keep this if it proves useful to her.” With a twisted smile, she tossed the pouch away, her words laced with a sinister undertone as she referenced Shadow Weaver.

Despite the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm her, Catra fought to maintain her focus. Deep down, she was confident she could defeat this Octavia once more—and perhaps this time, make it permanent.

Adora and Netossa rode atop Swift Wind, the horse’s powerful wings slicing through the air, while Glimmer soared alongside them, clutching Bow as they flew high above the Whispering Woods. They saw an black vehicle traveling fast, followed by two Horde tanks full of soldiers. Bow said that was the one that Perfuma. They decided that the less risky option is to not split up and follow the van. 

Octavia and Catra continued their fierce battle, the battleground shifting with every move they made. Catra's claws proved ineffective against her new opponent, as the key areas that could have sustained damage were heavily padded, much like the soldiers before them. Yet, Catra refused to retract her claws, determined to maintain her edge. The one advantage Catra held was her knowledge of Octavia's tentacle abilities.

Whenever Catra went on the offensive, Octavia expertly countered her attacks, employing a combination of tentacle strikes and powerful punches to exploit the openings in Catra's defences. Octavia had significantly honed her strength and combat skills, and while she still relied on her trusty taser baton, tentacles, and Catra's old knife, she had become a formidable opponent in her own right. The commander took particular pleasure in wielding her taser baton, using it not only as a weapon but also as a means to toy with and torment her adversary.

The commander is displeased in front of her as once again, this young’un has left an opening on her side of her torso area as she fruitlessly tries to claw her, Octavia uses her extra limbs to slips past fast before she holds onto dirtied furred arm of her opponent’s before she slammed the feral princess against the ground. 

Before Octavia has a chance to kick the feral princess, Catra rolled over onto her front, before she jumped behind the tall figure and swept their legs up, causing them to fall. Catra decided to use this time to hide among the bushes surrounding them to think- analyst before her next move.

Commander Octavia scanned the area where Catra had hidden herself, her eyes narrowing as she noticed the subtle shift in the magicat’s behaviour. The wild ferocity that had defined their past encounters seemed to have faded. Instead of the savage aggression she had expected, Catra now only exuded a mild contempt, as if her sole aim was to evade her rather than fight. This lack of passion bored Octavia—she longed for the same raw intensity from Catra that had fuelled their first brutal battle all those years ago.

Impatient and eager to reignite that familiar fire, Octavia called out, her voice sharp and mocking, “Where’s that fire that fuels you, Catra? Where’s the savagery I saw back then? The feral beast that made our fight worth something?”

The wind was the only reply.

Frustration mounting, Octavia’s temper flared. With a malicious grin, she drew her gun—a powerful weapon built for destruction—and fired at random. Trees splintered and toppled under the force of her shots, the sound of their crashing echoing through the forest. She aimed the chaos in Catra’s direction, hoping to force the hidden warrior into action.

After swiftly taking down the Horde soldiers, the team searched the area, but there was no sign of the kidnapped Princess Perfuma. Glimmer, her brows furrowed, turned to one of the officers and asked, “Where is she?”

Grizzlor, silent and unresponsive, only stared ahead. Netossa, losing patience, yanked him up by his shirt, her tone sharp and demanding, “Answer her.” But before Grizzlor could speak, a loud crash and the sound of a tree falling in the distance drew the group's attention.

Adora, her instincts kicking in, spoke up. "I can head that way quickly. I’ll use She-Ra’s powers to speed things up."

Glimmer nodded in agreement, her voice steady. "You go, Adora. I’ll follow as soon as the Brightmoon forces get here."

Netossa, eyes narrowing at the scene around them, turned to Bow. “You and I will figure out where Perfuma might be. We’ll get answers from Grizzlor and his men.” Her gaze lingered on the entangled Horde soldiers trapped in her net. "A little 'interrogation' will get them talking."

Meanwhile, Bow’s mount, Shift Wind, nuzzled his shoulder as he chimed in, "Me and the heart boy will take to the skies. We might spot something from up there."

With the plan in motion, Adora didn’t hesitate. She took off, the wind whipping through her hair as she surged through the woods, the rush of air feeling almost liberating. As she ran, her thoughts briefly turned to Perfuma, she had to be okay. But then, the wave of worry washed over her, replaced with something positive. The thought of her old friend filled her mind. The forest around her, the trees and the air, reminded her of her old friend in ways she hadn’t expected. 

Catra focused on her breathing, determined to find a way to end the fight. An intense surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins, fuelling her movements. With a burst of energy, she sprinted forward, revealing herself as she charged at Octavia. The air was filled with a chaotic blend of a roar and the fragmented cry of "Occc-taviaaaa!"

In a fluid motion, Catra leaped into the air, delivering a powerful double kick to Octavia. But as she prepared to slash at Octavia's other eye, her opponent anticipated the move, bracing for the impending attack.

Octavia swiftly moves backwards and uses one tentacle to strongly wrap around the upper part of the magicat. Catra’s slim yet athletic body and the exception was the huge long mane was tightly squeezed. 

After extending her tentacle further out, to the point that the target was hanging in front of her higher up, she slams Catra onto the ground repeatedly, her head and body taking the impact. After a while, She brought the feline up toward her, as she used her other three tentacles to wrap Catra whole body.

"I've seen that trick before," Octavia said, her voice cold and unwavering. "Fool me once, but not again."

Catra's only response was a lowly growl that turned into a sharp hiss when Octavia squeezed her a bit more and less. Catra bites onto the nearest tentacle out of instinct but that just amuses Octavia as she laughs. 

“Let me show you my trick,” Octavia said with a sinister grin.

In an instant, the black bands coiling around her tentacles unleashed a barrage of spikes that pierced Catra's body. The sudden invasion and the crushing tightness in her chest elicited a scream from the magicat, which faded into unconsciousness.

“Damn it!” Octavia cursed, shaking Catra roughly. “You better wake up! I haven’t had my fill yet, and you’re still holding out on me. No fight left in you?”

With a swift motion, Octavia hurled Catra against a tree trunk, but the impact was eerily silent. Octavia's eyes widened in shock as she beheld the bloody feline, gasping for breath, her body contorted grotesquely against the tree. Catra's palms and claws had absorbed much of the blow. Her head hung low until she lifted it, revealing a fierce determination in her gaze, one that made Octavia feel a mix of excitement and unease. She recognized that look, the same feral intensity she had seen before. Faded blue markings began to shimmer across Catra's skin.

A charged stillness enveloped the air, interrupted only by the chaotic thoughts racing through Catra’s mind: hunger, emotions, pain. She wanted it all to stop, and the only way for that to happen was to eliminate the being before her—Octavia.

With a sudden burst of energy, Catra sprang from the tree, catching the commander off guard. Dropping onto all fours, she surged toward her prey, intent on ending this confrontation. As she leaped, her body shifted, claws poised to strike.

Octavia braced herself to counter the attack, but her eyes widened in disbelief as she noticed a swirling dark aura forming behind the beast. Catra, however, was oblivious to Octavia's surprise; all she cared about was sinking her fangs into her opponent’s throat.

Just as she launched herself into the air, Catra felt an abrupt halt. She was suspended mid-leap, confusion washing over her. Her mouth opened to shout, but only silence emerged. Looking down, she saw the dark aura encircling her, immobilizing her in its grip.

Chapter Text

Nyx was teaching Nala how to navigate the tree branches, Nyx’s instructions paused abruptly as she crouched low, sensing something. Nala, concerned, asked if she was alright. Nyx’s voice was tense as she replied, "I’m sensing multiple presences just beyond our radius, out in the Whispering Woods. There are also magic auras ahead."

Nala was lost in thought, contemplating the impending confrontation. “So, should we take action if it’s the Horde?” she asked, a playful grin tugging at her lips. “I think kicking some Horde butt would be a perfect way to end this trip,” she joked. Nyx's tail flicked at her in disapproval. "No, this isn’t good. We need to assess the situation first. You’ll go back to the nearest checkpoint and alert the team. I’ll stay here and figure out what’s going on."

Nala frowned but argued, not liking the idea of separating. "We could handle this together."

Nyx was firm, her gaze serious. "It’s not about what we could do, Nala. I trust you with this. I need you to go. This job is important, and it'll take time to regroup. We’ll make it work."

With a resigned sigh, Nala nodded, though she wasn’t happy about it. The two exchanged the traditional magicat goodbye gesture, before summoning their disguises and parting ways.

What Nala didn’t know, however, was that one of the auras Nyx had sensed was C’yra’s, no, Catra’s, Nyx corrected herself mentally. The confusion of the name lingered, especially since the feral magicat didn’t even know her true identity. Regardless, whatever was ahead, Nyx couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that it was dangerous.

Adora’s frustration with the lack of progress in the woods grew until, in the distance, she spotted the Horde’s issued vehicle. Without a second thought, she transformed into She-Ra. With a surge of power, she effortlessly took down the soldiers guarding the area and disabled several of the surrounding robots. As the dust settled, She-Ra’s strength wrenched the van’s door off its hinges, revealing a relieved Perfuma, her hands still bound.

Adora quickly untied Perfuma’s wrists and ankles. “Hey, I’m so glad to see you, Perfuma. We’re in the clear. Can you stand?” she asked, concerned in her voice.

Perfuma smiled weakly, her eyes filled with relief. "It’s so good to see you too, Adora. Though, I think I could use a hand getting out of here, my legs feel like they’re asleep." With Adora's support, Perfuma carefully stepped out of the van, and together they began walking away from the scene.

Just then, a familiar voice rang out.

"Did someone say SwiftWind ?"

Adora and Perfuma smiled in unison as they turned to see She-Ra’s trusted steed approaching.

"Well, we didn’t say it," Adora replied, walking up to the golden stallion, "but having you here is exactly what we needed. Thanks, buddy."

SwiftWind responded with a joyful whinny before speaking. "Good to see you both safe. I led the others here; they’re right behind me."

True to his word, Glimmer, Bow, Netossa, and the Brightmoon forces, led by General Juliet, emerged from the woods, joining the group.

Suddenly, Perfuma froze in place, a look of distress crossing her face. Adora and SwiftWind, who was closest to her, reacted immediately, concern flashing across their faces.

Perfuma’s senses were overwhelmed by vivid flashes of voices and images from nature, not from an enemy, but from something deep within the Whispering Woods. The sensation was dizzying, disorienting. But then, it hit her. An unsettling energy pulsed through the woods, as if something dark and malevolent was stirring within.

It all clicked.

“Wait,” Perfuma began, speaking with newfound urgency. “The trees have told me something.”

The group quickly gathered around, hanging on her every word as Perfuma shared what the trees had revealed. They spoke of an imposing figure. Someone Adora immediately recognized from the descriptions: Commander Octavia. While it raised more questions than answers, it was a vital clue.

Bow then recapped what Mermista had overheard about the mysterious second target the Horde was after, someone other than Perfuma.

Netossa spoke up next, revealing that another force of the Horde was still lurking within the woods. This information had been unintentionally revealed by Grizzlor’s soldiers during their capture. It all aligned with what Perfuma had seen through the trees’ visions.

Despite the pieces falling into place, the weight of the unknown still hung over them. Why? What was the true purpose behind the Horde’s actions? The gravity of the situation was palpable, marking a pivotal moment in their mission.

With a clearer direction now ahead of them, the team prepared to follow the trail of Octavia’s forces. The group pressed forward, with General Juliet taking the lead as they cautiously navigated the dense forest. Bow walked alongside Perfuma, his eyes scanning the surroundings while keeping a close eye on his friend. Perfuma’s eyes caught something nearby on a ground that was in front of their path, a pouch. She picked it up, a faint memory tugging at her mind as she held it in her hands. She couldn’t place where she had seen it before. Too tired to focus on the thought, she clutched the pouch for now, unsure of its significance but unwilling to let it go. Bow asked about it and Perfuma mentioned her thoughts before they walked by the group again.

Suddenly, General Juliet raised her arm in a silent signal for the group to halt. They dropped to the ground, taking cover behind a large stone, shrouded in the shadows of the trees.

From their concealed vantage point, they could see Horde soldiers fanned out in a tight defensive formation, clearly prepared to stop anyone from advancing. Netossa studied the scene carefully, a frown forming on her face. "Something’s off," she murmured. "The loud bangs, two squads led by different commanders, this isn’t a routine patrol. There’s more going on here."

The team quickly huddled together and devised a plan. Adora, in her heroic form, would move ahead, aiming to intercept Octavia before things escalated further, and to rescue the second target.

Perfuma, still recovering from her injuries, would stay hidden, with Bow at her side, offering protection and long-range fire support.

Netossa and Glimmer would take to the skies, neutralizing the drones overhead to clear a path for the ground team. Meanwhile, General Juliet would position her soldiers strategically, ready to engage the Horde soldiers and overwhelm them in a swift, decisive attack.

"You've done well, Commander Octavia."

A cold, calculating voice filled the air, cutting through the tension. The feral magicat, Catra, hung suspended in mid-air, her body trapped by an unknown aura powered by dark magic. Standing nearby, Octavia, the stoic commander of the Horde, observed the scene with an unsettling calm. Catra, still disoriented, couldn’t make sense of what was happening. But Octavia, ever composed, knew exactly who had spoken.

She circled the frozen Catra, her eyes locked on the target’s face, a sinister gleam in her gaze.

"I’m pleased to be appreciated," Octavia said, her voice laced with icy amusement. "But I must say, I don’t appreciate how you interrupted my fun. My fight with her was just getting interesting…" She paused for a moment, stepping back as if contemplating something. "Shadow Weaver."

At her words, a red-masked, ghostly figure materialized beside her. It seemed more like a projection—a phantom made of eerie, swirling energy. Catra’s eyes widened in recognition, though she couldn’t make sense of it fully. But deep down, a gut-wrenching sense of death, pain, and heartbreak screamed within her.

"I decided to come down," the figure spoke, its voice a low, venomous whisper. "To witness this magicat for myself."

Catra’s erratic panic coursed through her body as she kept moving against the unknown force placed upon her, until Shadow Weaver snapped her ghostly fingers. A dark, electrifying shock coursed through Catra’s veins, sending waves of pain throughout her body. The sensation mirrored the one from a haunting vision she had seen earlier, an unsettling premonition. The feline hybrid let out a faint whimper, struggling against the overwhelming force.

Shadow Weaver slowly approached, her presence as cold and calculating as ever. Her long, slender hands, those same hands scarred from the past, the ones that had suffered at the hands of Queen Calliopra of Halfmoon, reached toward Catra’s face. With a chilling touch, she pushed aside the mess of Catra’s hair, revealing her yellow and blue eyes, which started out through the cracks in her cracked mask. The touch, though motherly in its way, only served to unsettle the magicat further. Her ears flattened against her head, and her tail flicked restlessly.

“My dear C’yra,” Shadow Weaver purred, her voice a blend of affection and malice. “It still amazes me that you’re alive, while your mothers, and your kingdom, are not.”

Catra’s growl rumbled in her chest, defiant but weak. Shadow Weaver’s hand continued to caress her face, her tone taking on a darker edge.

“It brings me great pleasure to take all my frustrations with your mothers out on you... to make you pay for the injuries they inflicted on me. Starting with taking the Tiger Eye.”

Catra, confused by Shadow Weaver’s words, tried to fight back, but the dark magic was too powerful. Her arms were yanked wide apart, her legs forced together. Shadow Weaver’s chanting filled the air, her voice carrying in a language older than time itself. Catra’s eyes fluttered shut as the pressure of the dark force bore down on her, but when she opened them again, a blue protective barrier surrounded her, shimmering in defiance against Shadow Weaver’s power.

Enraged by this resistance, Shadow Weaver’s chanting grew more intense. She shifted her other hand, gathering more dark energy to reinforce her assault. The pressure increased, the blue barrier flickering, struggling to hold its ground.

During this moment, within the vast sanctum of Eclipse Kingdom, a grand workspace for the kingdom’s mages, the air was thick with the hum of ancient magic. Among them stood Sylphid Prowlheart, the kingdom’s head sorcerer, his sharp gaze focused on the kingdom’s powerful runestone. He watched in stunned silence as cracks appeared across its surface, the energy pulsing with an unsettling intensity. Suddenly, the runestone shattered, sending ripples of magic cascading through the kingdom. The disruption spread, affecting everything tethered to the runestone’s power.

Sylphid’s voice was steady, though urgency laced his tone as he instructed Herren and Mystra, “Find the queens.” 

Meanwhile, Shadow Weaver still pushes on, with a sudden surge of force, something pierced Catra’s chest, and she gasped in pain. Shadow Weaver’s hand, still the one that had caressed her cheek, pushed through the barrier, its power breaking through the magic that protected Catra. The markings that adorned Catra’s body flared wildly, the magic inside her destabilizing under the relentless assault.

The searing pain in Catra’s chest quickly transformed into a numbing sensation as Shadow Weaver’s phantasmal arm withdrew, releasing its grip on her heart. With the spell that bound her in place finally lifted, the hybrid princess collapsed to the ground, as if the weight of her anguish had become too much to bear. The suddenness of her fall caught Commander Octavia off guard.

Meanwhile, Adora navigated the Whispering Woods with fierce resolve, deftly leaping over fallen branches and other obstacles. As she pressed onward, the aftermath of a recent battle became starkly evident: trees lay splintered, deep skid marks scarred the soft earth, and the acrid stench of burnt gunpowder and scorched metal hung heavily in the air. A grimace crossed her face, a haunting reminder of her tumultuous upbringing as a child raised in the Horde surrounded by violence.

Upon entering a spacious clearing, Adora spotted Octavia, a tall figure standing at the center, intensely focused on something just out of view. Unbeknownst to her, the ghost of Shadow Weaver lingered beside the Commander. Without hesitation, Adora hurled her sword toward her enemy, aiming with precision.

The dark mage's annoyance was palpable as she addressed Octavia. “Commander, it seems we have company. Eliminate them before you report back to the Horde. Perhaps it’s best if I handle this personally. Now, go—”

The warning came just in time for Octavia, who narrowly dodged a sword that would have struck her from behind. However, the ghost of Shadow Weaver, fueled by dark magic, was abruptly silenced when a blade, belonging to none other than She-Ra, sliced through the air and embedded itself in a tree, momentarily disrupting Shadow Weaver’s spell.

An clash erupted as Adora's sword reappeared in her hand just as she met Octavia's metal-spiked tentacles.

"You missed, Adora, or is it She-Ra these days?" Octavia spat, venom lacing her words.

"Still bitter about the time I defeated you last time? Irrelevant. This is about the Alliance and stopping you from abducting another person and tearing apart the Whispering Woods," She-Ra shot back defiantly.

With a powerful shove, She-Ra pushed Octavia back, creating space to anticipate her next move. But her blue eyes caught sight of something behind the commander, an enormous figure where Octavia had been standing moments earlier.

The chill of realization washed over her as the figure came into focus.

"No. That Isn’t, Catra?" Adora whispered, the name escaping her lips before she could stop herself. Octavia heard, though her focus remained unwavering.

Her old friend, alive all this time and being here of all places. But seeing Catra in such a state stirred something deep within Adora, a fierce protectiveness igniting her resolve.

Ignoring Octavia, Adora rushed toward Catra, only to be abruptly kicked back by the commander’s foot.

"Not so fast, She-Ra. She belongs to the Horde, and that makes it my business," Octavia sneered.

Adora shifted her gaze between her fallen friend and her relentless foe. With a fierce battle cry, She-Ra summoned her strength, wrapping her arms around Octavia, before launching the commander over the trees in the distance.

Turning slowly, She-ra knelt beside Catra’s unmoving form, carefully cradling her in her arms. Her face, soft and full of concern, hovered close to Catra's dirt-smeared one. A wave of relief washed over She-ra as she saw the faint rise and fall of Catra’s chest. With determination, she called upon her healing powers, a warm light enveloping Catra’s body. She-ra was resolute in her mission to restore her friend before they made their way back to the others.

Chapter Text

Deep within Catra's subconscious, she was keenly aware of her body's condition. Her arm, fractured and stiff, made it impossible to fully support herself on all fours. A heavy weight pressed down on her, fatigue settling deep in her bones. Her back was stained with dried blood, the remnants of the spike attack from Octavia. The pain was overwhelming, but it was the exhaustion that truly held her captive. All she wanted was to escape, escape from the pain, to find food, and to feel something other than this constant ache.

Then, warmth began to seep into her body, a gentle sensation that spread through her like sunlight breaking through the dark. Catra’s subconscious stirred, recognizing the feeling of magic. A confusing mix of relief and wariness flooded her. Despite her limited understanding, she knew magic had caused her pain in the past, leaving her uncertain and vulnerable. Yet, this warmth felt different.

Instinctively, Catra snapped into a defensive position, her body tensing as she instinctively lashed out, her claws raking across whatever was holding her. With a burst of strength, she leaped backward, putting distance between herself and the unfamiliar presence.

Her eyes locked onto a figure, another being, human, definitely. Their expression was hard to read, a mixture of sadness and... relief? Catra’s mind raced, but for a moment, she could only stare, unsure of whether she should trust what she was feeling. As the person looked down at their arm, that seemed to have healed before looking back at Catra. This confuses Catra. This mysterious person who has started to slowly get up from their sitting position to standing.

"Shh, it's just you and me," She-ra murmured softly, her voice filled with both comfort and urgency. She wanted to say so much to her old friend, to express her relief at finding out that Catra was still alive, but the situation was too dire for any emotional reunion. 

The figure before her was taller than Octavia, but this new opponent was more muscular, stronger in build. Catra’s sharp eyes immediately noticed the difference: the blonde mane was longer, lighter in shade, and the chest plate—marked by a bold red—was identical to the one worn by the Horde soldiers. A flash of distrust sparked in the feline's eyes despite her weakened state. Her arm, still injured, was raised defensively as a growl rumbled from her chest, her fur standing on end.

She-ra, momentarily puzzled, tried to understand what was causing Catra's heightened wariness. Was it her inability to heal her fully? Was Catra afraid she would hurt her again? She-Ra knew Catra’s reactions had shifted since they last saw each other. Perhaps her transformation into She-ra was further confusing the already wary hybrid, making it harder for Catra to trust her. Adora couldn’t afford to transform back to her normal form just yet, there was still too much danger in the air.

The most important thing right now was keeping Catra safe. She-ra remembered that Catra had clearly been marked as a target, why, she wasn’t sure, but she knew that bringing her to Brightmoon for protection was their best chance.

"Catra, we need to move away from here. Back to where help is," She-ra said, her tone steady but firm. She needed to make sure Catra understood, though she wasn’t certain how much the magicat’s language or understanding had progressed since they last met years ago.

Before Catra could fully process what was happening, She-ra lifted her in a bridal style, the sudden movement causing the injured hybrid to struggle. Catra hissed and clawed, desperate to get away, to go home. But She-ra, unfazed by the hybrid's resistance and sharp claws, ran swiftly, her mind focused on reaching the safety of her team. Despite Catra's efforts to break free, She-ra didn’t falter as she dashed through the woods, determined to get her friend to safety.

Chapter Text

The hybrid’s exhaustion made it easier for She-ra to carry her, a fact that felt strangely foreign to She-ra. She knew all too well how much Catra resented being held like hugs, especially when she was vulnerable. 

She-ra paused for a brief moment, checking on her friend. Looking down, she saw that Catra’s eyes were open, though they lacked their usual sharpness. They weren’t fully alert, but they weren’t completely closed either. Her pointed ears flicked back in an almost imperceptible sign of discomfort, and a low groan escaped her, a sound that mixed pain with a reluctant sense of comfort. It was clear that Catra wasn’t pleased with the situation, but in her current state, she was too drained to protest further.

She-ra quickly relayed a message to her team, informing them that she was bringing back the Horde’s second target, and that medical attention was urgently needed. However, what she didn’t mention was the identity of the person, her old friend, Catra. Having spent so many years isolated in the wild, Catra was unfamiliar with society’s norms and had limited language skills. Adora wasn’t even sure if Catra remembered the words she taught her when they were kids, or if she had reverted to being nonverbal. Given these circumstances, Catra would likely react defensively, hissing at anyone who approached and resisting any help offered, especially considering her limited exposure to others. Adora hated thinking of Catra as "feral" or "wild," but in this situation, it was the only way she could understand her behaviour.

Horde-issue drones then appeared in front of them, blocking their way. She-ra dashes on a detour, she realised that she didn’t have any choice but to engage to fight them off. She-ra gently set Catra down beside a tree, confident that her weakened state would prevent her from making a run for it. She stood in front of the feline hybrid, her stance firm and watchful, waiting for the drones to arrive.

After taking down the swarm of drones and confirming Catra was safe, She-Ra rushed back toward her, though Adora couldn't help but wonder if the ease of her victory was due to her training, or if there was something suspicious she had missed. What She-Ra didn’t see, however, was Octavia, injured but still alive, lurking in the distance. The commander gripped a new Horde weapon: a massive High-Energy Laser System, designed to be wielded with both hands. With a steady aim, she fired a searing green beam, sending it zooming through the woods and striking She-Ra directly in the back.

Catra remained unshaken until a pained, choked scream pierced the air, jolting her from her daze. She opened her eyes wider and turned her head, catching a fleeting glimpse of a tall mysterious being then changes back into a smaller form, into someone all too familiar. Adora collapsed onto the soft earth before Catra.

“Addd-oraa?” a broken whisper escaped the magicat’s lips.

Without thinking and pure instinct, Catra pushed herself up and crawled toward her Adora. She gently rolled her friend onto her side, nudging her face with her nose in a desperate attempt to rouse her. But it was no use. Unbeknownst to Catra, Adora was knocked out, but in her mind, she thinks Adora is dead. Also, Commander Octavia stood nearby, flanked by advancing robots, watching the scene unfold.

Octavia chose not to revel in the magicat's distress. Instead, she methodically advanced toward the hybrid. Despite the pain radiating through her body, especially in her arm, Catra pushed herself away from Adora, rising to her feet in a fierce, unsteady stance rather than her usual feline crouch. Fuelled by blind rage for her fallen friend, she charged at Octavia.

The two opponents exchanged blows in a chaotic flurry of reckless movements. Octavia, relishing the sight of the hybrid's unleashed fury, felt a surge of satisfaction as she set her sights on exacting revenge on the magicat before bringing the feral princess to the Horde. With Catra’s instincts driving her rather than strategy, Octavia quickly gained the upper hand.

With a swift, practiced motion, Octavia drew Catra’s old knife. Using one of her tentacles to pull the hybrid closer, she swung her arm, aiming directly for Catra’s yellow eye. The blade sliced across her face, leaving a painful gash that drew blood but unintentionally spared her opponent from blindness.

Disoriented, Catra staggered, her body swaying unsteadily. In a cruel twist, Octavia seized the opportunity, plunging the blade into Catra’s back while grabbing her neck, rendering her momentarily incapacitated. A guttural scream escaped Catra’s lips as she staggered backward, desperately retreating toward her fallen friend. She collapsed beside Adora, clutching her bleeding eye.

Octavia came to a halt, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. She had triumphed over the feral princess and incapacitated Adora in the process. The traitor was a far more valuable bargaining chip than the plant princess could ever hope to be, especially in the hands of Shadow Weaver. 

“Now it’s time to take you both in,” the commander declared, her voice dripping with malice as she slowly approached, flanked by her robotic minions.

Catra's injured and tired form was on top of Adora’s, protecting her, tears went down her face. What was unexpected was the faded marketing of blue has returned; however, it was orange this time that soon turned blood orange. Catra's body was engulfed in a crackling aura. Unaccustomed to magic, and with no training to control the magicat's signature abilities, the surge of power coursing through her was agonizing. Every pulse of energy felt like a searing burn, her body trembling as the raw magic overwhelmed her. Catra’s body became a silhouette, as her form grew and grew; her ‘broken’ arm was now usable, her tail longer and ticker, her fang was sharper and her prehensile hands became paws. 

A whirlwind of thoughts and emotions surged through Catra's mind. Her day had gone from bad to worse, hunger gnawing at her, the mysterious figure still eluding her, and an overwhelming pain that seemed to consume her every sense. She was being hunted again, forced to confront the very magic she despised, a constant reminder of the agony it caused her. But the most devastating blow was the sight of Adora, the one person who meant everything to her, now seemingly lost. (Unbeknownst to Catra, Adora was alive, only unconscious.)

The magic transformation faded, to reveal a bigger beast that was protecting a small human beneath it. A chill ran down the commander's spine, this was completely unexpected, and she was running low on energy. She couldn’t afford to continue the fight, so she reluctantly called for a temporary retreat.

“Forget this,” she snarled, her voice thick with frustration. “Don’t mistake my retreat for weakness. I will hunt you down again, beast” With a final glare, the commander turned and sprinted toward a nearby vehicle, shouting commands to the drones and robots. “Keep it distracted,” she ordered, “until I’m out of range.” The machines obeyed, ready to give her the time she needed to escape.

The transformed feline hybrid looms as a towering behemoth, its massive frame rippling with untamed strength, its claws, sharp as obsidian, extend with deadly grace; its thick, wild fur bristles with primal energy, and its every movement exudes an aura of dominance and predatory precision, making it a terrifying apex predator in the Whispering Woods. What remained unchanged were its eyes, cold, primal, and devoid of any trace of humanity. The troubling part was the absence of any rationality, replaced instead by an animalistic drive. It was no longer guided by reason, but by raw instinct. Fuelled by the rage over her ‘dead’ friend, the pain of betrayal, and a gnawing hunger, the beast became consumed by its fury. Every thought, every impulse, was now centred on destruction.

After a while, the relentless drones and robots became a growing irritation to the transformed Catra. Overcome with frustration, she let out a powerful roar, releasing a surge of magic that rippled through the air. The energy radiated out in a devastating wave, obliterating all the bots within its radius.

After seeing nothing else fighting its dominance, the beast’s rage gradually shimmered as the sudden adrenaline boost started to come down from the fights. The beast slowly came up to the still knocked out Adora. It still felt uneasy toward its ‘dead’ friend, but looking at Adora seems to calm it. Inside the deeper thoughts of the beast, Catra was confused by why Adora was much smaller than before, completely unaware she transformed as all she knew. All she is aware of is that her body aches due to the adrenaline wearing off, meaning her existent injuries will soon be a problem. 

The now larger paw gently prodded Adora’s side, persistently nudging her until a pained moan escaped her lips. Startled, the creature paused, its tongue gliding over Adora's face before tracing the scratch on her arm from earlier. The enormous feline then settled beside her, attentively monitoring her condition and patiently awaiting her awakening.

💨💨💨💨💨💨

Footsteps drew closer, and the beast's ears flicked instinctively, sensing the vibrations of movement. Princess Glimmer, Bow, General Juliet, and a few soldiers had been tracking the location of their friend Adora, who had been out of contact for some time. The roar they’d heard earlier had only heightened their concern, leaving them wondering if Adora, and the other unknown figure with her—were alright.

The beast, still in pain from its injuries, slowly rose to its feet, towering over the unconscious Adora in a protective stance. Its body ached, but the need to shield its friend took priority.

As the beast dug its claws into the earth, preparing for the approaching threat, the group arrived at the scene. They froze, eyes wide in shock, as they took in the sight of the massive beast hovering over Adora, its claws digging into the ground.

Panic surged within the group.

Glimmer reacted immediately, teleporting through the air in an attempt to disorient the creature. The beast hissed, its senses heightened by the magic in the air. Before it could fully react, Glimmer reappeared and unleashed Photokinetic Blasts, striking the beast’s face and then its injured arm. The blows caused the creature to roar in pain, swiping its paw through the air in confusion. Just then, an arrow struck its back, drawing the beast’s attention to Bow, who stood resolute at the edge of the clearing.

Despite its injuries, the beast kept its body positioned protectively over Adora. The team needed to get the creature away from their fallen friend, but it wasn’t going to be easy. General Juliet, analysing the situation, charged straight at the beast, her pole extended and ready. The beast blocked her strike with its massive paws, but Juliet swiftly released her grip, sidestepping the creature before landing a powerful kick to the same forearm that Glimmer had already targeted. The blow caused the beast to stagger, its balance momentarily disrupted.

Seizing the opportunity, Glimmer appeared once more and summoned a surge of magic, pushing the beast against a nearby rock with a forceful blast. The impact made the creature grunt in pain as it struggled to regain its footing.

This was their opening. Glimmer shouted to Bow, instructing him to get Adora. Bow and a Brightmoon soldier quickly rushed to Adora’s side, lifting her up while another soldier provided backup. Glimmer and General Juliet remained focused on the beast, which, now on all fours, was searching for any sign of its fallen friend.

The beast’s nose and eyes picked up on the scent of Adora being taken away. It let out a roar of frustration, its body trembling with fury. Despite the injuries slowing it down, it pushed forward, intent on reaching the soldiers.

But Glimmer was already in position. She teleported in front of the beast, firing another blinding light blast directly at its face. The creature recoiled, temporarily blinded by the intensity of the attack.

The pain was overwhelming. Magic surged through the beast, causing it to stumble back in agony. The combination of physical injuries, the magic's relentless pressure, and the fear of losing Adora again overwhelmed it. The beast, now scared and disoriented, turned and fled into the trees, its body crashing through the underbrush as its anguished cries and roars echoed through the forest.

The Princess Alliance stood still for a moment, watching as the creature disappeared into the wilderness, the echoes of its rage slowly fading away.

Chapter Text

The air felt heavy, charged with an eerie stillness. Amidst the quiet, the sound of paws thudding against the earth and limping motion echoed through the Whispering Woods. The beast had just shimmered down from its rage, as it was now thirsty. It went toward a stream and after licking it for a while, slit eyes open, seeing its reflection that soon spooked the beast, causing her to slash using her other arm. The beast decided to sit back by a tree, most of its body was covered by the shade, it closed its eyes to rest.

Soon many visions flashes came in quick, sharp bursts, images of her lost past, of pain, of misunderstanding. She could feel it, fleeting and distant, but all she knew now was pain, hunger, and the overwhelming need to find a safe place. 

zzzzzzzz

Who?

Voices. Soft. "Our little one."  

zzzzzzzz

“C’yra!” A voice. Far. Is that me? I heard that before.

Darkness pulse. I want to scream. My mouth doesn’t work. 

ZzZzZzZ A mixture of flashbacks that soon becomes muddled of nightmares and pain ZzZzZzZ

“C’yra, I know you're in there. Listen to my voice,” a familiar voice called through the haze, its tone soft but urgent. Yet to Catra, it felt distant, almost foreign. The voice, once so recognizable, now seemed like a faint echo of something long lost. It wasn’t the same as when she had been herself.

The beast stirred at the sound, sensing an unfamiliar presence nearby. Its body shifted suddenly, pushing itself onto its limbs, eyes narrowed and searching for the intruder.

A low, guttural growl escaped from the beast's throat, raw and primal. It stumbled forward on all fours, its senses laser-focused on locating the source of the voice.

Then, as the mist of confusion lifted slightly, the beast saw them, a lone cloaked figure standing at a distance. The figure pulled down their hood and mask, revealing a face Catra thought she would never see again.

It was Nyx, the one Catra had once sought. But at this moment, everything was distorted. The beast’s mind, tangled in the fog of its transformation, couldn’t make sense of it. All it knew was the overwhelming confusion and the recognition of something familiar, yet too distant to fully understand.

Nyx stepped closer, her hand outstretched, her expression a mixture of concern and confusion. She can tell Catra has many injuries. She also noticed some low level of horde presence that were leaving the area as she was traveling toward here, could this be linked? 

It has been a while since Nyx last saw Catra, but now, she was sure that Catra was in front of her in her magicat beast form. But this form was different. It wasn’t a standard magicat beast form, it was more beastly and feral. Magicat transformation to their beast forms takes time to train for, to learn to control, but in Catra's case, she is lacking control and is heavily relying on her wild untapped side. 

‘Wait, something about Catra’s aura felt off.’ Nyx spoke to herself as she quickly noticed that the runestone that is in Catra’s body, had been attacked, and whatever had caused it had left lasting trauma. It seemed that this was what had triggered Catra’s transformation. A wave of concern washed over Nyx as she realized the Horde had uncovered the existence of C’yra and the runestone. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on her, and the magicat leader knew she had to act swiftly. With her team still on the way and knowing Nala was safely back home, Nyx made a difficult decision: she would bring C’yra home, no matter the cost.

“Catra, please. Let me help you get out of this form.” Nyx said softly, trying to reach through the fog of her mind. But Catra was already too far gone. The hybrid/human part of her, the part that had known life, feelings, pain, and connection, was buried beneath the savage beast. One blue eye glowed with an unearthly fury, and with a snarl, It lunged at Nyx, her claws slashing the air. Nyx barely managed to dodge, so she has to keep moving.

During the frenetic movement, at one point, something drops from the beast’s back. Something made the magicat leader to randomly pick up the knife as she rolled toward it and realised that it belonged to her father. Before Nyx could react to this discovery, the sound of stumbling footsteps caught her attention. A familiar scent, Nala.

Nala, barely standing, had entered the clearing. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she took in the sight of the beast in front of Nyx. Without hesitation, Nala sprang forward, managing to strike a spell across its front body, knocking it back.

"Get away from her!" Nala shouted, her voice trembling with a mix of pain and newfound confidence. The beast panicked, triggered by the spell from another being that looked like Nyx, and also by smelling magic. Once again, the magic had caused it harm, and in its fear and confusion, it fled from both Nyx and Nala, desperate to escape the threat it had come to associate with pain.

Nyx rushed to Nala’s side, instinctively looking over Nala for any injuries  “What are you doing here, Nala?!” Nyx demanded, though her voice was full of concern.

Nala winced, her breath shallow and laboured. “I couldn’t go back,” she explained through gritted teeth. “I tried the nearest checkpoint like we discussed, but when that didn’t work, I moved on to the others. They’re all down, none of them are functioning. Something’s wrong. And then—” Her voice faltered, fear flickering in her eyes as she glanced over her shoulder. “A mage attacked. He was skilled, but... dark magic. He’s with the Horde. He even saw through my disguise and figured out I’m a magicat. I had no choice but to come back. I needed to find you.”

Nyx glanced back toward where C’yra had gone, a deep pang of frustration gnawing at her. She couldn’t follow, now knowing about the issues more on her plate. Her first priority was to get Nala and herself to safety, then figure out a way to return home as she assumed it was temporary. But before she could speak, the sharp crackle of magic sliced through the air, halting their conversation. A figure stepped out from the shadows of the tree branch, the same dark mage as before.

“Why are you running off young lady, I was just asking where the rest of the magicats are,” the mage said, his relaxed demeanour leaning against the tall tree, where he has an advantage point to his two magicat.

Nyx whirled around, her protective instincts surging. “Not while I’m still breathing. Nala, stay back!” She positioned herself firmly between Nala and the dark mage, bracing for a fight. But deep down, she knew it wouldn’t be enough. Before she could make a move, Nala’s voice cut through the tension.

“I got an idea,” Nala said, her voice steady as her hand began weaving the familiar motions of a teleportation spell. “I’ll take us home. Just hold on, Nyx.” Wind swirled around them as incantation symbols glowed in the air, marking the beginning of the spell.

But before Nala could finish, the dark mage struck. A bolt of electric energy shot through the air, slamming into the rocks nearby. The mage’s dark aura spread like wildfire, seeping into the magic around them. Nala’s spell began to warp, spiralling into a chaotic vortex. Winds howled within the barrier, lifting both magicats off their feet. Nyx’s heart raced as she tried to shout over the roar of the storm, but her voice was swallowed by the violent magic.

The teleportation spell twisted uncontrollably, a dangerous mess of shifting energies, amplified by the dark magic and Nala’s inexperience with the incantation. Another bolt of dark energy struck, hitting Nala in the leg. The princess cried out in pain, collapsing to the ground. Nyx dodged a nearby attack, but a stray blast struck Nala, knocking her out cold.

“No!” Nyx screamed, reaching out toward Nala, but the violent force of the magic hurled Nala away, tearing her from Nyx’s grasp. Nyx staggered, her vision spinning. In her moment of distraction, another bolt of dark magic struck her, sending her into agonizing pain.

The teleportation magic that turned sour soon finishes, leaving the two magicats gone into thin air. The whereabouts of the two magicats were unknown. Where they had gone, whether to safety or something worse, was a mystery. 

This displeased the dark mage, however, he now has more information than before, that his mentor would be pleased to hear. 

“Catra?”

Adora slowly woke up, her voice barely above a whisper. As her eyes adjusted, she realized she was in Plumeria, inside a healing hub, surrounded by citizens and a few Brightmoon soldiers.

“Catra?” she repeated, confused. “I mean, I’m glad you’re awake, Adora.” Netossa’s voice brought her back to reality. “Perfuma asked me to give you this tea to help.”

Netossa sat beside her, offering a steaming cup. Adora sat up, accepting it with a grateful nod. As she did, she noticed her white Horde-issued shirt and the leaves carefully placed on her back, aiding in her recovery. The tea tasted bitter, and Adora couldn’t help but make a face at the unpleasant flavour.

Netossa grinned, holding up her empty cup. “If I had to drink this awful tea, you should too,” she teased, lifting Adora’s spirits with her playful tone.

Adora decided to leave the other half of the cuppa on the side as she asked about what had happened as it was bothering her. Netossa said that she wasn’t there but she could get Bow as he was. Netossa got off her seat, leaving out of the hub tent before bringing back with Bow and Perfuma, the moment Perfuma entered, her face lit up with relief, clearly happy to see Adora safe.

Adora smiled, noticing how much better Perfuma looked.

"Not as good as you, though," Perfuma replied with a playful grin. "Seems like we’re playing a game of magical musical chairs, who gets injured next?" Her light-hearted joke broke the tension, and soon everyone was laughing. The mood lightened, and the space felt warmer, more relaxed.

Bow soon explained that the group had been searching for her and the other person (who was Horde’s other target) after not hearing from you for a while and then we heard  a concerning roar in the woods. We soon found you unconscious beneath a massive beast, something completely different to what we are used to seeing in the Whispering Woods or the lands. Glimmer and General Juliet managed to get the beast away, creating an opening for me to help lift you to safety with the help of a Brightmoon soldier. Glimmer just managed to get the beast blinded and overwhelmed it with magic, causing it to flee away.

Bow briefly added that Mermista had been transported back to her kingdom once reinforcements arrived, which was why she wasn’t there. Perfuma, sitting beside Adora, gently nudged her as she sat up on the edge of the medical bed, urging her to finish the tea while she took a moment to process everything.

Adora, initially confused, suddenly paused as a realization hit her. The ‘beast’ Bow had mentioned, it clicked. The description didn’t match entirely, except for an eye (not understanding how that came to be) and the limb injury. That ‘beast’ was Catra.

In an instant, panic set in. Adora jumped off the bed, to her feet, pacing quickly as she spoke in a rush. “Oh no, no, no, she’s hurt! She’s out there somewhere, and we need to find her. The Horde was going to capture her before I stopped them and—” Her words tumbled out in a frantic blur, her mind racing to find a way to help.

Netossa put a hand onto Adora’s soldiers as she tried to reassure her that Glimmer has brought more soldiers; in search of the person and to stop the dangerous beast since it has rampaging all over the place where it was last seen and-’. Perfuma gently stopped Netossa before she could grab Adora’s hand, guiding her back to the bed. She helped Adora focus on breathing exercises, allowing her to calm down. After a moment of silence, Perfuma spoke softly.

"I haven’t seen you so distressed about saving someone, not since that Princess Ball with Glimmer and Bow. It sounds like there’s something more to this 'Catra' than we know. And... Catra, that’s quite a unique name."

Her tone was curious yet understanding, giving Adora space to explain without pressure. Adora lets out some breath as she explains to Perfuma, Bow and Netossa in the quickest way possible that the beast is in fact the other person who they have been looking for to protect from the Horde and that person is Catra. An old friend. Adora didn’t explain more as it wasn’t the moment to do so.

After a pause, Adora was up again, walking back and forth in the tent, her thoughts were; What caused Catra to transform, is this temporary? And how can she make Catra trust her friends once they have Catra?

Perfuma, who followed Adora with tea in her hand, tried to offer it to her as Perfuma kept saying she needed to finish it before she leaves. Adora ended up taking the now cold tea, before she sat down at a table, where Bow and Netossa was, working with a big radio machine called Track Hub 2.0, that Entrapta has invented, and made for each kingdom, that works to connect with any tracker pads under the princess alliance.

Bow was struggling to process the fact that he had mistakenly shot at an innocent creature, wait no, a person, no less, who was only trying to protect Adora. Meanwhile, Netossa remained sceptical about Catra. She sensed there was more to the story, wondering why the Horde would target Catra unless she was of greater importance. Both Bow and Netossa worked frantically to reach Glimmer through the Track Hub 2.0, hoping to update her on the situation and warn her not to harm the "beast", the very person they were trying to help. However, something seemed to be interfering with the signal, or perhaps it was just bad timing.

Then, an idea struck Adora. Before anyone could object to the idea of her leaving due to her back injury, she spoke up. “Catra’s probably scared in her new form. It doesn’t help that she’s more seriously injured, and the longer she moves or tries to defend herself, the worse it’s going to get. Catra will be more distrustful than ever, and I’m the only one who can calm her down.”

Adora's thoughts lingered in the back of her mind, though she didn’t say it aloud: And maybe, just maybe, I can bring her back to Brightmoon. She hadn’t thought too far ahead; getting through to Catra was the first step.

Adora then turned to Bow, asking, “Were there any Horde issued supply boxes left behind in this area when they fled Plumeria?” Bow nodded, pausing to think. “I’m trying to remember if the Brightmoon soldiers rounded them all up or if some are still out there.”

Adora walked over to Perfuma, her tone soft with concern. “Is there anything in here that could help someone fall asleep, something calming and safe for an adult?”

Perfuma smiled warmly, but Adora quickly added, “It’s not for me.”

With a knowing, yet slightly disappointed nod, Perfuma set her tea aside and began searching the medical supplies in the tent, eager to find something that could help.

Meanwhile, Adora turned to Netossa. “Any luck reaching Glimmer?”

Netossa shook her head. “No luck yet, but I can stay behind and keep trying. Who knows? I might manage to get through to Glimmer before you arrive, and Catra won’t be hurt any further.” Adora smiled, appreciating Netossa’s dedication, and agreed with her plan.

With the necessary supplies and a clear course of action in place, Adora explained to Bow and Perfuma that she would be leaving with Swiftwind to stop the Brightmoon forces, led by General Juliet.

Bow, ever loyal, insisted on coming with her. Adora couldn’t bring herself to say no to her heart-shaped friend, knowing his support would mean everything on this mission.

Adora transformed into She-Ra and stepped out of the open flap of the tent. She was momentarily surprised to see Swiftwind standing outside, but a brief smile spread across her face.

“I could sense your emotions,” Swiftwind said with a playful glint in his eye. “The mighty steed is ready to help!” Adora nodded, taking her position. Bow, who had gathered everything they needed for the plan, stood ready beside her.

“We need to reach Glimmer’s forces fast,” Adora said, her tone urgent. 

Chapter Text

Glimmer crouched low behind the thick underbrush, her sharp pink eyes tracking the beast as it prowled through the sparse trees. The air around her crackled with tension, the only sound a quiet rustling of leaves that felt almost like an ominous whisper. Beside her, General Juliet stood vigilant, her gaze unwavering but tinged with a flicker of concern as she surveyed the creature.

The beast, a hulking feline-like terror, lay at the far end of the clearing, its jagged form partially illuminated by the fading light filtering through the canopy above. Deep slashes, arrows, and burns marred its hide, telling a tale of fierce battles fought. The blood pooling beneath its snout and around its body.

It was gnawing on a body, an unfortunate Horde soldier, though the enemy’s insignia made little difference in that moment. The sight made Glimmer’s stomach turn, not just because of the grotesque scene before them.

“Princess Glimmer,” General Juliet said, her voice barely above a whisper as it pulled Glimmer from her thoughts. Glimmer followed General Juliet back to where her forces were on standby and ready. “We still can’t reach the others due to communication issues. We need to act now, while it’s distracted.”

Glimmer nodded, her mind already turning over plans. They had the element of surprise, but that would only last as long as the creature stayed focused on its meal. They needed to close in without being detected, to surround the beast, and to find a way to contain it before it could do more damage.

“We approach from the back,” Glimmer suggested. “Create a semi-circle around it. If we cut off escape routes, we might be able to control the situation.”

General Juliet hesitated for a moment, her gaze darting over the beast. “It’s a risk.”

“We don’t have much choice,” Glimmer replied firmly. “It demonstrated already that it can kill people.”

Without further debate, the soldiers moved into position, each one taking careful, deliberate steps to encircle the creature. Glimmer stayed close to Juliet, her heart pounding in her chest. Ready for whatever came next.

Then, as if the air itself shifted, a battle cry echoed across the clearing. The soldiers, once hidden in the bushes, erupted from their positions, while a couple of archers held back. The clash of swords rang out as they rushed forward, aiming to force the beast into submission. But it seems to be enough, the creature’s slowed agility due to its current injuries.

With an agonized, throaty roar, the beast forced itself to its feet, its massive form twisting and contorting in a desperate, pained struggle. In a fit of frustration, it flung the lifeless body of the fallen soldier far from it, the evidence of the death hidden from view. The soldiers hesitated, then slowly fell back, forming a loose semi-circle around the creature, watching warily as it writhed in pain.

Before anything else happens, a sudden burst of gold and white cut through the green scenery, stopping in between the Brightmoon soldiers and the injured and scared feline. She-ra, her armour gleaming even in the light, stood tall and unyielding.

"Stop!" she commanded, her voice ringing with authority.

The soldiers faltered for a moment, hesitating as they tried to assess the situation. Glimmer, watching from the side-lines with a group of archers under her command, felt a mixture of relief and worry. She-ra was here, but that didn’t mean the situation was any less dangerous.

She-ra turned to the soldiers surrounding Catra, ‘I need all of you to back off. Now.’ Adora said urgently. Then she came up to General Juliet to provide a fast explanation, “I need space as I can get through to Ca- I mean as so I can get through to this creature.”

General Juliet, though she was always the one to command in situations like this, nodded immediately, sensing the gravity in Adora’s tone. General Juliet trusted Adora’s judgement implicitly as she waved her soldiers back, signalling them to retreat back into the bushes. There was a brief moment of tension as the soldiers exchanged uncertain glances, but they complied, stepping slowly back from the creature. The clearing felt quieter, as if the very air was holding its breath.

She-Ra's gaze briefly flickered to Glimmer, who was standing further back, clearly baffled by the situation unfolding before her. Adora needed her friend to understand, so she quickly ran up to her, her voice urgent.

“Glimmer, I need you to make sure that whatever happens, they don’t provoke her by mistake. I’ve got a plan.” Her tone was steady, but an undercurrent of desperation pierced through her words. “No big magic either. It could trigger a negative reaction. But there will come a time when you’ll need to act—Bow will explain more.”

Glimmer nodded sharply, concern etched across her face. “I’ll make sure they listen,” she promised. Her mind raced, briefly dwelling on the strange way Adora kept referring to the beast as "she." But now wasn’t the time for questions.

She-ra didn’t wait to hear more. She couldn’t afford to. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest as she stepped toward the beastly creature. Catra… her once closest friend…was lost inside somewhere. But there was no recognition in Catra’s eyes when they met hers—only the frantic, fearful look of an animal trapped in a corner. Her eyes- wait no, only a blue eye now, this hurt Adora as those eyes were what made Catra … Catra. 

Without another thought, Adora began to de-transform.

The flash of light surrounding her seemed to catch the eyes of the bystanders. Some gasped, others were afraid for She-ra warrior, shocked by the sight. Adora, now in her simple, plain clothes form, stood alone before Catra. Her heart pounded, unsure of how Catra would react. This also caused Catra to look down, hissing.

“Hey Catra,” Adora said softly, taking a cautious step forward, her voice gentle. 

Catra’s head turned up, and for a moment, there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes. But it quickly faded, replaced by wariness and confusion. She backed away, her muscles tense despite every inch of her body wanting to sleep.

“You’re hurt,” Adora continued, taking another slow step toward her. “I can heal you like you heal me with my ankle. Remember?”

There was no response, only the shallow, quick breaths that came from Catra as she continued to watch Adora warily, her claws flexing at her sides.

“Catra…” Adora asked, her voice barely above a whisper, hoping the words might break through the barriers between them like before.

Suddenly, an archer stumbled and accidentally drew their bow in the direction of Catra. Adora’s heart skipped a beat. She had to act fast before Catra saw it as a threat.

"Put that down and move back!" Adora shouted urgently without breaking eye contact with Catra. "She’s not trying to hurt anyone. She’s just scared."

The archer, looking flustered and unsure, hesitated before putting his bow on his back. The tension in the air was thick, but Adora exhaled a quiet sigh of relief, not taking her eyes off Catra for a second.

As the archer stepped back, Adora realized how close she had gotten while trying to protect her, but Catra didn’t react to her proximity, which was a good sign. Adora could feel Catra’s heavy breathing, the beast's chest rising and falling with each breath, the power of her form towering just above Swiftwind.

This was her chance. Slowly, Adora’s hand edged toward the mane. She gently ran her fingers through the thick fur, trying to find the centre of Catra's body. There were no purring sounds, but the tension in the muscles began to ease. That was a good sign.

Adora’s hand began to glow faintly, and she whispered, "Please, Let me heal you. No more pain" Her voice was soft, almost tender. But in an instant, Catra recoiled violently, hissing and backing away, a deep growl rumbling from her chest. Her teeth bared again. Adora froze, realizing that even the smallest amount of magic was a step too far for Catra. It was a mistake, one that could damage the fragile trust she had built.

"I won’t do that again," Adora said quickly, regret flooding her voice. She lowered her hand, feeling the sting of Catra’s rejection in her chest. But she wouldn’t give up. She couldn’t, not when she was this close. Now she understood, plan B it is then.

Adora lowered herself to the ground in a non-threatening way, keeping her gaze locked on Catra as she settled into a calm posture. One arm stretched behind her, subtly signalling to Bow. She needed him to get Glimmer to teleport the supplies she had gathered. Adora knew this level of magic was minimal, but she hoped that it wouldn’t alarm Catra.

She felt around in the small box behind her, sifting through the contents until her fingers found what they were looking for. "Okay, I got something better, your favourite!," Adora said softly, her voice gentle, coaxing. Her voice carried the soft weight of memories, of moments long past when they had shared meals, and laughed together.

What Adora has pulled out was none other than an unwrapped Grey ration Bar, Adora then processed to throw half of it nearer to Catra.

Catra eyed the half pieced off ration bar with suspicion, but something seemed to draw her in. Her body moved slowly, almost against her will, as if something invisible was pulling her toward Adora. Was it her friend’s presence or just a dream? In her beast form, Catra couldn’t tell. All she knew was that she was desperate for rest, for safety.

After a long moment of hesitation, Catra’s snout lowered toward the ground, her wet nose inhaling deeply, first catching the familiar scent of Adora, then the smell of the food. With a flash of desperation, her head snapped down, fangs sinking into the ration bar in a swift, almost frantic motion.

Adora held her breath, carefully adjusting her position to sit more comfortably on the ground. She tossed a few more grey ration bars toward Catra, gradually coaxing the beast closer, until, at last, she held out the final one in the palm of her hand.

When the last bar was gone, Catra seemed to crumble in exhaustion, the toll of her ordeal finally catching up with her. Her movements were slow and unsure as she inched closer to Adora, her hesitation still palpable. Then, without warning, Catra’s massive head came to rest gently in Adora’s lap.

“It’s going to be okay,” Adora whispered softly, her hand resting reassuringly on Catra’s head, a quiet promise in her touch.

'I won’t Leave You Again'