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“Adora—! I’m sorry!”
Catra rips free from the clones grasping at her arms, hoping the shout of effort echoes louder than her steadily building sob.
“For everything!”
She lashes out at the console, barely managing to drag her palm across it. It’s so wild—so desperate—her claws wail against it.
It’s enough.
Sparkles—fuck it, Glimmer—phases out of sight.
Adora is safe.
So Catra goes limp.
Even the way the clones surge forward to collect her feels clinical. Unwanted tears well in Catra’s eyes as she watches the sparking console disappear.
I’m sorry. For thinking I deserved you.
“What did you expect?”
All beings…
“After all, us Etherians are so very emotional.”
…must suffer…
“It doesn't matter what you do to me.”
…to become pure.
“Glimmer is gone…”
Cast out the shadows.
“…and you will never get your hands on Adora.”
Cast out the shadows.
It scalds. It rends. It mutilates.
It unwinds. It distorts. It replaces.
Everything was once Fright Zone red and grey, Crimson Waste orange and blue, Rebel Princess pink and gold. Now… now, everything is Horde Prime green and white.
Catra's past is wiped clean.
“Behold! The purest amongst you. One… to be honored.”
“She was afraid, in the end.”
So afraid.
“And she suffered.”
So much suffering.
“Perhaps…my new vessel…”
Finally, to be a creature of consequence.
Of use.
Adora slams her bodily against the monitors. She… laughs. But—
It hurts? Sparks, flashes, bursts. A shift.
“I am not giving up on you, Catra!”
Adora is suddenly the same volume as the voice in her head: She’s a fool.
“Then you’re a fool. You cannot stop the Horde.”
It hurts. Sparks. Flashes. Bursts. A moment of color and clarity.
“Why did you come back? We both know—”
You don’t matter.
“You matter to me.”
She’s lying.
Catra backs away. She thinks she might have slapped Adora. She’s by the edge. She’s on her knees.
Adora is louder. “You've never listened to anyone in your life!”
Not even Adora.
“Are you really going to start now?”
What… what a dummy.
“You’re… such an idiot.”
Catra’s idiot.
Adora is crying, her hair loose, her clothes partially shredded. But she’s smiling through it. “Yeah… I know.”
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.
“I’m going to take you home.”
It hurts, but it’s real.
“…Promise?”
“I promise.”
I never deserved you. But, maybe one day—
“Disappointing.”