Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

  “Allura, are you okay?”

  “Allura? Do you copy?”

  “Allura?”

  “Allu…ra…”

  The Paladins’ voices faded into a serene silence. Her throbbing headache dissipated. Voltron dissipated. She stood still, gazing at vast, violet plains stretching endlessly beneath her feet. 

  “Where are we?” a voice rang nearby.

  She winced. The old Paladins still accompanied her. She glanced around, ignoring the question. Where were the others? Keith, Hunk, Lance, and Pidge—gone. 

  “The space feels familiar, but I can’t place it,” Alfor replied to Zarkon, his voice puzzled. 

  Allura knew exactly where they were. The moment her feet touched the purple soil, the alchemy thrummed through her body, in perfect resonance with her own alchemy. She bit her lip, drawing a deep breath. She wasn’t ready to share this secret. Why did the entity have to bring the old Paladins here too? And her father, of all people? Ugh. She wasn’t prepared for this! 

  How could she explain? Surely, her father would be so disheartened if he learned about her past life. About her failure - her monumental alchemic failure. Her political failure. Her blind trust in a war criminal. Her… romantic failure. 

  She loved her father dearly, but she knew he’d see through her eventually. His keen alchemical senses left little room for secrets. Quiznack, even in the afterlife! 

  She took another breath, thinking how to put this “failure” into softer words. 

  “This place has a romantic feel to it,” Blaytz quipped, admiring the vibrant purple ground, expanding into infinity, sometimes shifting into periwinkle hues, sometimes blooming into pink puffy clouds that hovered above the serene landscape. 

  “I can definitely see that,” Trigel giggled. “You and Lance could use this as a weekend getaway”, she playfully nudged her. 

  Allura’s brow furrowed, her discomfort quickly catching her father’s attention. She turned away, trying to hide the furious blush rising to her cheeks, and she quickly found herself fuming at her own embarrassment, as well as the ludicrous circumstance. Stars, that blush wasn’t even for Lance, and that made her mad at herself! 

 She would never bring Lance here. This was a sacred space she’d built with someone else. For someone else. It didn’t matter that that someone no longer deserved it. Lance had no quiznacking place here. Bringing him would feel like a desecration of something she still held… dear - somewhere, deep down, beneath that crusted wound that refused to heal, no matter how hard she tried. 

  “Aww,” Gyrgan teased, catching the crimson flush on her cheeks, before pulling her into a hearty hug. 

  “Ahem…” Zarkon loudly cleared his throat, a habit that his fellow Paladins had learned to respect, as a direct call for discipline. “Princess Allura deserves her privacy. Besides, she’s still recovering from a serious migraine.” 

  “Allura,” Alfor placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, “how are you feeling?”

  “I’m… fine,” Allura exhaled. “It seems Honerva cannot reach me here. The migraine is gone.”

  “Which begs the question, where are we?” Trigel inquired once more, her innocent curiosity cutting through Allura like a twisting knife. 

  “Yes, in all seriousness, why are we here?” Blaytz rubbed his chin. “What is this place?”

  “It’s definitely somewhere outside Honerva’s mind,” Trigel inferred. 

  After an awkward pause of silence, Allura conceded. “It is… a place I built.” Her nails dug into her palms. 

  “That’s wonderful,” Alfor said, turning to face her with a warm smile. “I had a feeling it was connected to you in some way, otherwise we wouldn’t be here. I can see traces of Oriande in it, am I right?”

  “Yes,” she looked down, drawing a small circle with the tip of her boot, as if attempting to dig a hole under her feet and hide away from the universe.

  “Oh, magnificent! Allura, you built another Voltron! That… that is a marvelous achievement!” Alfor cupped her cheeks, ready to embrace her in admiration. But soon enough his enthusiasm faltered as he sensed her unease.  

  “You… got a hold of my son’s comet ore ships?” Zarkon’s voice was sharp, his eyes narrowing as he quickly connected the dots. 

  “I… um… we…” she hesitated. “Yes,” she muttered under her breath. Pulling teeth would have been preferable over discussing this in front of the old folks.

  “Your son?” Alfor gaped at Zarkon. He’d only seen little glimpses of Honerva’s memories before they all escaped her mind. Indeed, Zarkon and Honerva had a son. “He obtained a comet ore too?” Alfor asked.

  Tears of regret welled in Zarkon’s eyes. “He did.” He sank to one knee, resting his palms on the violet floor. The memory of their last battle haunted him. Their final fight had ensued because of that comet ore. 

  Alfor’s sky-blue eyes slowly traveled back to Allura, noticing an inexplicable crimson taking over her cheeks again, despite her irked expression. The pink Altean marks burned brighter in contrast with her flushed skin.

  “Oh?” he eyed her at arm’s length, his gaze questioning. 

  “It’s… complicated,” Allura mumbled, barely audible. 

  “Aww… is it now?” A dignified voice shook the skies above. 

  “My son!” Zarkon gasped, a rare gleam of exhilaration in his eyes. 

   A loud “Wow!” burst from Blaytz as all eyes turned to the newcomer. 

  Allura winced, raising her eyes skyward. Against the periwinkle horizon stood Sincline, its silhouette sharp and imposing. Her expression transfigured from startled to bitter. 

  The mecha slowly lowered itself to a kneeling position, one hand resting on the ground, mirroring Zarkon’s stance. Atop one of the spiky blades jutting out the mecha’s shoulders, someone sat comfortably, palms resting on his parted knees.

  “I thought you’d be glad to see me, Allura,” Lotor smirked.

  “You. You brought us here!” she seethed.

  “A matter of semantics,” he replied, shaking his head in negation. He nimbly sprang from his perch, sliding down Sincline’s arm with practiced ease, then taking a swift leap right as his heels reached the robot’s hand. “I believe my former generals informed you about my past, so you should know better by now. I never force anything onto anyone. Persuasion works better in… almost all cases.” He tilted his head, giving her a narrow-eyed look, as he leisurely approached her spot. 

  “You lured my daughter here?” Alfor asked a bit unceremoniously, realizing Lotor’s devious insinuation. Well, well, Zarkon’s son. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree, as it seemed. 

  As Lotor continued to step closer, Alfor took his time to study his features. Fairly short-statured for a Galran - about Alfor’s height, yet… strikingly handsome by Altean standards. His facial oval carried a familiar beauty, his eyes a strange blend of Altean and Galran. Alfor shook off the distraction, refocusing on the tension at hand. 

  “Delighted to meet you, too, King Alfor.” Lotor gave a slight, mocking bow, impishly ignoring the king’s allegation.

  Alfor flushed, but kept his composure. “Zarkon, quite a son you raised.” An insolent son, he would have added, but for the sake of royal manners, he kept it to himself.  

  “Oh, I was raised in the void,” Lotor interjected before his father could utter any word. “Constantly trying to undo what he was destroying.” His finger pointed accusingly at Zarkon, who stood up slowly, penitent eyes searching for a crumb of mercy in his son’s gaze. 

  “Is that why you ‘undid’ millions of Alteans?” Allura’s voice cut through the air, her anger palpable.

  Lotor’s expression steeled. “Is that why you didn’t question them directly? So you could accuse me here of things you know nothing about?”

  “Question them? They’re all dead!” Allura snapped, her fists clenched, ready to strike.

  “They’re dead too,” Lotor smirked, gesturing toward the five Paladins, who looked lost amidst the unexpected war of words. “Yet you seem to converse with them quite freely.”

  “Pfft, lousy analogy!” Allura spat back, her emotions boiling over reason. 

  “It is the most pertinent analogy, if you would just keep an open mind,” Lotor said, his golden eyes tightening in irritation.

  “Wait, wait, hold on a tick,” Trigel stepped between them, averting an ugly moment, as Allura felt utterly offended by the ‘narrow-minded’ allusion. “Let’s slow down. What Alteans are we exactly talking about? I thought they all perished when Zarkon destroyed Altea. Isn’t that what happened?”

  “Ah, the Green Paladin. The voice of reason. Thank you,” Lotor nodded at Trigel.

  Gyrgan and Blaytz crossed their arms, ready to hear him out. Alfor wrapped a protective arm around Allura’s shoulders, piercing Lotor with his cold blue eyes. What had this man done to his daughter? If Zarkon had turned out such a monster, how far could his son have sprouted from his father? The deceitful tone Lotor displayed was unsettling, a chilling echo of Zarkon’s betrayal. That memory burned fresh in Alfor’s mind. No, no, his daughter didn’t deserve to suffer the same fate! 

  “Altea may have been destroyed,” Lotor began, his gaze deliberately locking with Alfor’s, “as its king was too weak to defend his own world…” He let the insult hang, narrowing his eyes.

  “But I did what no one else dared,” Lotor continued. "I covertly searched for those Alteans scattered across the galaxies who happened to be off-planet at the moment of the attack. I offered them a sanctuary, a secret place where they could live in peace for thousands of years—”

  “And where you could syphon their quintessence in peace, too,” Allura snarled back. Oh, she was riled up and she knew it, but her people were dead and Lotor was responsible for it!
 
  “Like I said. They were martyrs to a noble cause,” he replied darkly. 

  “You did what?” Alfor stepped forward, dropping all decorum. “At least Zarkon was upfront about his mass-murders. But you—you led generations of Alteans to believe in your so-called ‘noble cause’, only to exploit their very life force? You have become worse than your parents!”

  “You seem to have an even shorter attention span than your daughter,” Lotor’s voice grew even colder. 

  “Alright, alright, let’s—let’s not start a fight just yet,” Trigel interjected, stretching her hand to block the path between them. “You said they were martyrs. That implies they willingly offered their lives for a cause they believed in. A noble cause. Give us some context,” she continued her plea. 

  Lotor exhaled, his patience thinning. “If you insist.” His gaze locked onto Allura’s, holding it like two warriors crossing swords.

  Allura swallowed hard. The vision. She saw herself piloting that Komar mecha, syphoning quintessence from Altean soil, fending off Galra cruisers. Her mother uttered her final words—how proud she was of her. 

  As if reading her thoughts, Lotor took a step closer, his expression softening just slightly.

  “Do you really wish to learn the truth?” he hovered right above her, inches away from her breath, ignoring her father’s wary presence. 

  Allura kept silent for a few ticks, scrutinizing him with her azure eyes. “Depends on how you define truth,” she finally answered. 

  He slowly closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath. When he reopened them, his gaze was resolute. “You continue to perceive me as an unreliable narrator. I understand…” He took another long breath, studying her stern expression. “Very well then. Follow me,” he clasped her fingertips, a bold gesture that took her by surprise. 

  “I shouldn’t be here…”

  “Allura…Please. I cannot do this without you.”

  Haggar’s lair. The strange odor of chemicals and potions scattered across the shelves pinched her nostrils. His fingers laced with hers. Her eyes, powerless, watched their hands entwine. Her heart screamed to go for it, silencing the last whisper of reason. 

  “Alright.” 

  A shock of heat rippled through her frame.

  Stars, why couldn’t she resist his touch? What kind of universal ruse had drugged her senses into surrendering to his will?

  As if tethered to him, overtaken by occult forces, she started walking alongside him, leaving her father behind to watch in disbelief.

  “Where are you two going?” Zarkon rushed behind them. 

  “Keep up with us and you shall find out,” Lotor replied, his voice dripping with cunning. 

  Left without other options and wary of losing Allura, the five Paladins followed closely, and soon the landscape around them blurred, fading into a new scene.

  Allura’s breath caught. They stood inside Sincline’s cockpit. Lotor invited her to the copilot’s chair, seating himself at the main helm. The Paladins lined up along the side panels, their expressions guarded. 

  Allura glanced left, then right, eyelids laden with suspicion. The earlier conversation replayed in her mind. “Ask them? They’re all dead.” Her hands trembled slightly. Butterflies shivered in her stomach. Why was she starting to feel like he might have been right all along? 

  Haggar’s lair flashed back in her mind. 

  Potions, poisons, quintessence. 

  Magic, mysteries, power.

  “We’re going back into Honerva’s mind, aren’t we?” she asked, apprehension quivering in her voice.

  “Your intuition is beginning to reawaken,” Lotor praised, then flipped on the mega-thrusters, yet he offered no further context. Clearly, he was poised to let others do the talk for him. 

  “Trust? Do you realize how dangerous it is to go back there?” Alfor rebuked. This man was breaking every rule of normalcy. 

  “Father,” Allura touched his hand, in an unexpected change of heart. “It must be done.”

  “What are you talking about?” Alfor responded, his disapproval unmistakable. “Honerva almost took over your consciousness and you desire to go back there?”

  She cleared her voice, before speaking again with more aplomb. “Many souls are trapped inside Honerva’s mind. You weren’t the only ones.”

  Gyrgan nodded solemnly. “True. There are thousands more.”

  “Unfortunately, we no longer have Voltron to protect us,” Zarkon said grimly. “We are taking a massive risk.”

  “Fortunately, we have a better machine,” Lotor interjected, turning to his father, a triumphant smirk on his face.

  Alfor’s jaw dropped. Lotor raised an eyebrow, silently questioning him. The poor king looked like a lost yalmor. 

  “I’m not so sure,” Allura murmured, doubt creeping in. How could her alchemic work surpass her father’s creations? “I do not believe Sincline can protect us from Honerva’s powerful mind.” After all, out there in the real universe, Honerva steered Sincline to her own wishes. She kept her son ‘at bay’… 

  “You underestimate your work, Allura,” Lotor said calmly. “And you underestimate my own research, too.”

  “Your research?” Trigel asked, leaning against a cockpit panel.

  “My research into the entity.”

  Oh.

  The engines revved up, while silence enveloped the cockpit. 

  “You may not know this rather… small detail,” Lotor continued, “but I believe I was born with the entity. My mother entered the rift while she was pregnant with me.”

  “Yes,” Zarkon nodded, his expression grim. “When you were born, the doctors noted the same strange readings in you, as in me and Honerva.”

  “Hmm… So you knew…” Lotor turned a bitter expression at his father.  

  “Be that as it may,” Allura cut in sharply. “How is that an advantage?”

  “For thousands of years, the witch knocked at the walls of my consciousness. But I developed my own methods for counteracting her mind probing, long before I even realized the the entity existed within me,” Lotor replied, watching her reflection in one of the cockpit panels, as she sat behind him. 

  “You… blocked her telepathic attacks,” Allura narrowed her eyes, processing his words. 

  “And I still do,” he replied confidently. 

  Her tone suddenly soured. “Is that why you almost killed Lance?” 

  A few heavy ticks of silence hung between them. True - outside there in the physical world, he was completely unleashed, Honerva alchemically controlling him—likely through the very entity he claimed mastery over.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” Lotor replied, genuinely perplexed. 

  “Don’t you lie to me! At Oriande, you almost killed all of us. Honerva has you wrapped around her little finger,” Allura said, pressing her lips together. 

  “I have no recollection of such actions,” he defended, his voice steady but strained.. 

  Allura shot up from her seat and stormed over to him. “You’re lying!” she roared, her face mere inches from his, tears spilling from her eyes. 

  He groaned, letting the helms loose. The mega-thrusters eased off. Abandoning all self-restraint, he roared back. “I swear on all ancient Sages, I am not lying to you, Allura!”

  The five Paladins stood there, watching wordlessly, as Lotor continued, his voice gravelly, visibly struggling to bring his tone down. 

  “The only Oriande I remember is the one I visited with you.”

  Alfor winced. Zarkon’s son, at Oriande? With Allura, no less! 

  Gyrgan attempted to conciliate the two parties. “Is it possible that… your consciousness is somehow sealed off from the physical world? And you can’t control your body’s actions?”

  “Meaning, Honerva controls your every corporeal move, through the dark entity,” Alfor filled in grimly.

  Lotor scowled, biting the inside of his cheek. Being a puppet to the witch? Abomination!

  “What do you remember?” Allura’s tone softened slightly. 

  “The last thing I remember is you,” he said, a barely visible smile curling at one corner of his mouth. “You—mulling over taking in the entity, as I stood there, exasperated by your stubbornness.”

  Alfor felt the sudden urge to to sit down. This was too much. Lotor had lured Allura into Sincline’s memory space. And now, come to find out he was actually the one who persuaded her into taking the dark entity. Alfor pulled back the chair behind Lotor, since Allura had abandoned it, currently hovering angrily over Lotor.

  “And before that, what else do you remember?” Allura pressed, as her father sat down with an elderly groan. She ignored him, because she was beyond caring about appearances. There was nothing left to hide - or so she thought.

  “I remember several trips into the witch’s mind,” Lotor replied, leaning back into his chair.

  “Wait—you’ve already traveled into her mind?” Blaytz asked, disbelief written across his face.

  “I can go there whenever I please. Not that I enjoy it,” Lotor rasped. “But up until recently when… Allura’s mind became accessible, it was the only place I could travel to. The witch has no inkling of my presence.” He chuckled softly, a dark amusement flickering in his eyes.

  “How?” Allura blurted out.

  “I can teach you,” he said, suddenly baring his fangs, his expression as mercurial as his mood. 

  “Hmm,” she resisted, pulling back. The glint in those sharp fangs made her heart quicken. 

  “Your mistrust of me is… weighing down on my energy, Allura,” Lotor sighed, shaking his head despondently. Just when he thought he was making a breakthrough, she’d balk at him. 

  Unable to shake off her traumatizing experience at the recently destroyed Oriande, she scowled back, attitude shifting again, to his dismay. “Your energy? What about your boundless energy to destroy Voltron? Lance nearly fell victim to it!”  

  “Who? The boyfriend?” Lotor feigned surprise. 

  Allura’s expression dropped. How? How did he know about her and Lance? 

  Ah, the entity… Apparently, her mind had been 'accessible', ever since she accepted that mysterious creature. 

  But how… accessible? Her heart fluttered, the hot realization flooding her body. 

  “Yes, her suitor,” Alfor corrected, with a stark and deliberate tone. 

  With a visceral groan, Lotor protested. “He may be her suitor, yet Allura dreams of…” He caught himself before finishing the sentence. 

  Allura’s cheeks were ready to combust with humiliation. Please… not here. Not now. Not in front of them.

  Lotor sighed it off, not before giving her a cheeky grin. “Never mind. Do you still wish to travel into the witch’s mind?”

  “We must,” Allura replied with a committed voice. “Those poor souls need to be released from Honerva’s spell.” Her heart still fluttered.

  “Very well then.” Lotor clasped the helms once again. “I promise you, Allura, I shall protect you from the witch. Do not fear.”

  “I’m not afraid, if that is what you believe,” she grumbled, her voice tinged with defiance.

  He only smiled, knowingly.

  “Well I am,” Blaytz jested, breaking the tension. “Your wife is scary,” he nudged Zarkon.

  “My wife can be… intimidating,” Zarkon replied with a telling smile. 

  “That witch is neither your wife nor my mother,” Lotor said with bitterness, as Sincline finally took off.

   Zarkon released a long exhale. His son’s denial was evident, but he chose not to challenge it. 

  Soon, the purple plains vanished from view, replaced by a dark planet that hung ominously over a starless void. 

  “Here we go,” Allura murmured, gripping the backrest of Lotor’s chair. 

Chapter Text

  The dark planet loomed ever larger on Sincline’s view screen, an ominous presence that filled the cockpit with silent dread. Allura tightened her grip on the backrest of the purple chair, her knuckles pale as she steeled herself for what lay ahead.

  Nobody uttered a word, gazes locked forward. It was as though their very souls held their metaphysical breaths, bracing for the crypt of terrors they had to confront once again. 

  Lotor pursed his lips before curling them into a wicked grin. Sincline slowly descended below the black clouds, the atmosphere thick and stifling. Below, the very same, perfectly black, infinite marble floor awaited them in haunting silence. Several anxious ticks loomed over the cockpit, while the mecha settled atop the strange, unyielding soil. 

  “Now what?” Gyrgan’s deep voice finally broke the silence. 

  “Now,” Lotor replied with a smirk, “we enter her mind.”

  “Honerva could discover us at any moment,” Alfor muttered, shaking his head. His voice carried the weight of mistrust, laced with an edge of fear.

  “Which part of ‘the witch has no inkling of my presence’ do you fail to understand, King Alfor?” Lotor’s tone was smug, his golden eyes gleaming with mockery. 

  “Show me,” Allura interjected, her voice firm but tinged with unease. A restless shiver crept down her spine as she locked eyes with Lotor. “Show me how you conceal yourself from Honerva’s mind.” 

  “Why do I have a feeling it has something to do with that dark entity?” Trigel folded her arms with suspicion. 

  “A bit,” Lotor flashed his fangs with an eager grin, then nimbly stood up.

  Behind him, Alfor, still seated in the copilot chair, let out an involuntary groan, resting his head back against the seat recliner. Regrettably for the king, his moment of solace was short-lived, as the cockpit dissolved under everyone without warning, and Alfor’s rump soon hit the cold marble floor beneath. 

  “Oh, buddy, are you alright?” Blaytz offered a helping hand.

  “I’m fine,” Alfor grumbled, and picked himself up with a dignified frown. 

  “This… Lotor declared, raising an open palm toward the towering Sincline, “is how I evade detection.” 

  Allura frowned. “I… don’t — I don’t see anything different,” she muttered. 

  “Look again,” Lotor purred, leaning a bit too close to her and prompting her to step back uneasily. 

  Her eyes widened, and she let out a startled chuckle. “Oh.”

  “A logoryoct?” Alfor crinkled his brow.

  “Ha! Ha-ha-ha!” Gyrgan laughed liberally, all the way down to his round belly. 

  “What is that… caricature?” Zarkon squinted at the giant, pasty-beige, hilariously-fuzzy figure that watched them inanimately, standing on two hind legs, in lieu of the majestic Sincline. 

  Allura’s eyes softened. “It’s an Altean child’s toy. Very popular during my time. Almost every child wished for one.”

  “I figured it’s a toy, but… was that a real animal on Altea?” Zarkon said, rubbing the nape of his neck with an amused expression, as he took in the three long, gloriously flabby ears, the two pairs of cerulean eyes encircling a ridiculously boopable pink nose, the saggy belly and ragged paws, suggesting years of relentless play. The thing looked like an intergalactic cross between a yalmore and a bunny, stitched together from fibra-synths and a good measure of absurdity.

  “It was,” Lotor nodded, proudly gazing upon his magnificent mental construct. “Logoryocts were… Um, well, I should better let a true Altean explain,” Lotor said, turning to Allura.

  A ‘true’ Altean. What was a true Altean anyway? A quiet indignation stirred in her chest, but she quickly masked it. She slowly removed her gaze from the teasing glue in his golden eyes, and focused again on the oversized toy.

  “They were ubiquitous little creatures that made quite some damage to our crops, but were beloved nonetheless, because they were extremely playful and cute,” she explained, her voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. “Unless alchemically controlled, they bred in unfettered numbers. We used to joke that only by nuking the planet we could ever get rid of them.”

  Her voice faltered, her expression darkening. “Sadly, that joke became reality…”

  Lotor’s eyes narrowed, sharp with accusation, as he turned to Zarkon.

  The emperor shrank under the weight of Lotor’s gaze, his shoulders drooping. “I’m terribly, awfully sorry,” the emperor looked away, his voice thick with regret, as tears welled in his eyes.

  “How do you know about these toys?” Allura asked, shifting the subject away from the painful memories. 

  “Dayak gave one to me when I was only a few deca-phoebs old,” Lotor replied. 

  “Dayak?” Zarkon echoed, gaping back at him. “Where did she acquire it from?”

  “She kept all sorts of historical artifacts in her possession,” Lotor said. “I don’t know where she acquired it from. She must’ve had it from before you destroyed Altea. I was never allowed to play with it for more than a few doboshes, for fear of being discovered by you. But yes… that was my very first encounter with my Altean heritage.”

   A bitter silence lingered among them until Alfor broke it, asking Zarkon, “You did not allow your son to play with toys?!”

  “I do not believe toys and swords went well together under his regime,” Lotor replied instead, grudge dripping from his voice. “But despite that, I went to bed every night believing that my little toy possessed magical powers that would protect me from my father, his soldiers, and his evil witch. I may have taken many beatings from him and his lackeys, but Haggar never succeeded in breaching the gates of my mind. Instead, all she ever saw was that ragged toy, which she could never figure out.”

  “Because her memories of Altea were severely blocked.” A cold shiver traveled down Allura’s spine. “But surely, she knows now. Her memories have returned. Your ruse couldn’t possibly work anymore.”

  Lotor shook his head. “Oh, but it does - more than ever, Allura. I am hiding in plain sight,  mixed in with scrambled memories and wishful plans for nonviable futures. Just another toy, buried in the large pile she dreams of giving me,” he said with a deep sigh. “A little too late for that.”

  “Your mother has many hopes and dreams for you,” Alfor murmured, his expression suddenly soft, and he reached out to place a consoling hand on Lotor’s shoulder.

  “She’s not my mother!” Lotor recoiled, startling the king. “That witch may have stolen my mother’s memories, but she will never replace her,” he snarled. 

  “Lotor, Honerva suffered the same fate as your father,” Allura tried to reason. “The rift—”

  “What about the clone that infiltrated your team?” Lotor rasped back. “You think others cannot be cloned?” His fists quivered. “She is not my mother.”

  “Lotor, I had no such technology available back then. Neither of us condones with what she’s become, yet she is, nevertheless, your mother…” Zarkon said, visibly emotional.

  “For the third time — she is not my mother,” Lotor retorted firmly. 

  “Ugh…” Allura sighed in exasperation. “Let us focus on saving the people we came here to save,” she said sharply, realizing further argument was futile. “We’ll discuss this later.”

  Lotor shook his head vehemently. “There is nothing to discuss. After we save everyone trapped in her mind, we shall destroy her.”

  “Fine…” Allura groaned, while Alfor hissed under his breath, “—ssstubborn like his mother.”

  Allura took a moment to calm herself down, by refocusing on the translucent marble. Shadows of trapped souls slithered beneath its polished surface like restless Karthaelian salamanders. 

  “Yikes!” Blaytz exclaimed, stepping gingerly to avoid the writhing shapes. “How did you get past this barrier last time?”

  “We didn’t really do anything…” Allura admitted. “They just… dragged us down.”

  A tense silence followed, as they braced for the same unsettling assail to strike at any moment. 

  “Oh. Fantastic,” Gyrgan muttered with dry sarcasm. “So we just wait for them to fetch us?”

  “I don’t know…” said Allura. “We believe that our connection with you, as Paladins, drew us in last time. But now… I can’t imagine what might connect us to whoever is down there.”

  “Plus, Honerva must’ve fortified her defenses,” Zarkon added grimly. “She already knows you’ve been here. It will be much harder to break through this time.”

  “Like I said, I can enter at any time with no problem. Are you all ready?” Lotor asked, gaze cutting sharp like luxite blades. 

  “I’m ready,” said Allura with a stern voice. 

  “Wait,” Alfor cut in. “Do you have a plan after we get in? We’ll be under attack from thousands of souls.”

  “And you’re afraid, I’m assuming?” Lotor gave him an acidic look. 

  “No, I’m being realistic,” Alfor shot back, trying not to rise to Lotor’s bait. This man was relentless—hardly surprising, considering his lineage.

  “You’re Paladins of Voltron, but you don’t quite live up to your name, do you?” Lotor huffed.

  “Correction: we were Paladins. And we’re not really living, since we’re kind of… dead,” Trigel interjected with a wry shrug.

  Gyrgan chuckled dryly, slinging an arm over her shoulder, in a show of solidarity.  

  “That’s enough!” Allura snapped. “Lotor and I are going in. The rest of you can wait here for us.”

  “That’s not how it works,” Zarkon tut-tutted. “I’m the leader of Voltron, and I decide for the five of us Paladins. I say we join you.”

  “For once, my father takes a wise decision and I find myself agreeing with him,” Lotor muttered, casting a distant gaze into the endless black horizon, as if speaking to himself.

  “Alright, you lead the way, Prince Lotor,” said Zarkon, puffing up with pride.

  “Emperor Lotor,” his son corrected stiffly.

  Zarkon turned away with a big grin, rolling his eyes amusedly. 

  Allura allowed herself the barest flicker of a smile, but instantly pouted it away as Lotor’s eye corners scanned her.  

  The logoryoct wagged its stubby white tail, and in an instant, a swirling disc opened up beneath its feet, like a vast spiraling void humming with danger. The proverbial “rabbit hole”, as Hunk used to jest when they were getting sucked into extraneous adventures, awaited the seven people to jump in. Except, this time, Allura truly desired to follow this path.

  “We must all stick together,” Allura warned, the memory of her last harrowing journey fresh in her mind. “Don’t let them separate us.”

  Without hesitation, Lotor seized her hand. She linked with her father on the other side, and the chain continued—Zarkon, Gyrgan, Trigel and Blaytz forming a tight, unbroken line. The bunny-like toy leapt into the dark vortex, and the seven pursued, their warrior shouts of courage swallowed by the abyss. 

  “Father, don’t let go!” Allura screamed as Alfor’s grip faltered. “No! Father!”

  “Allura, I c-can’t…” the king struggled. 

  The maelstrom of dark wraiths surged around them, roaring and clawing at their forms with relentless fury. Allura’s desperation quickly burst into maddening rage. Like a wrathful lioness, she roared, eyes ablaze with dark energies. The entity within her pulsed into ominous purple flames, expanding its power into their connection, spreading through every arm, every chest, every mind. 

  Alfor‘s grip soon steadied, and the team landed safely on Honerva’s next plane of consciousness.

  “The entity…” Alfor murmured with apprehension. “It’s connecting all of us now. I can feel its heavy darkness coursing through me.”

  “Good. It’s keeping us together,” Allura replied firmly. 

  Ahead, legions of dark souls quickly regrouped, their haunting cries growing louder as they closed in from all directions. 

  The seven quickly formed a circle, the bond gaining force as they clasped hands, closing the loop. Instinctively, Allura knelt, pressing her palms to the ground. Her movement pulled Lotor and Alfor down with her, and the rest followed in unison.

  Sensing her intent, Alfor intervened. “Allura, this is not the way. It’s the same dark path that Honerva took.”

  “It is the only way,” Allura replied, her voice unwavering as she pressed her palm harder against the ground.

  “Darkness cannot drive out darkness,” Alfor insisted, his tone heavy with warning.  

  “Only light can. I know,” said Allura, aware of the Oriande wisdom. “But it is not enough. Only this special dark light is strong enough to break Honerva’s spell.” She braced herself, sensing the encroaching wave of enemies. 

  The dark light surged, radiating like a mandala of incandescent force. It engulfed them, spreading across the ground in pulsating ripples. The wraiths froze as the ring of energy halted their advance. Spears, blades, katanas and arrows hurtled toward them. 

  Allura panted, straining to protect everyone under the entity’s force field. Sweat glistened on her forehead, as thousands more spectral souls emerged from the abyss, their haunting cries reverberating through the air.

  “This is utter madness!” Alfor exclaimed, reluctantly joining her alchemic spell and boosting the entity’s dark light with his own magic. 

  To Lotor’s left, Blaytz watched the sea of darkness with a mix of dread and disbelief. “So… you said you’ve been inside Honerva’s mind before. How exactly did you escape this part?” he asked Lotor.

  Lotor hesitated before replying, his voice unusually subdued. “I… never stepped foot inside this particular chamber of her consciousness.”

  Gyrgan’s voice quivered. “Oh… great. Just great. So you just peeked from the other side of the wall?”

  “Indeed,” Lotor admitted, while Alfor grunted, straining to expand his alchemic reach. 

  “Magnificent,” Blaytz snarked, rolling his eyes. “And you brought us here because… you’re just winging it?”

  “Ad lib… is part of my strategy at times,” Lotor muttered, his fangs glinting as he bit his lip. “These souls deserve to be freed.”

  “Ugh, my dear son!” Zarkon huffed, his voice laced with exasperation. “You and Alfor - two peas in a pod. Discipline clearly isn’t your strong suit.”

  “Oh, shush!” Alfor yapped, inadvertently distracting himself from his task - a treacherous short moment that cost them an avalanche of spears and arrows. 

  “No!” Allura screamed, as their connection wavered under menacing forces.

  “This improvisation won’t hold for longer! How can we help?” Trigel shouted. 

  “Focus on linking your minds—as if forming Voltron,” Allura commanded. “Hopefully, it will boost the entity’s powers.”

  “You heard the princess,” Zarkon bellowed. “Team, focus!”

  Joining Alfor, the other four Paladins closed their eyes and sought each other’s mental presence, their thoughts merging in a desperate bid for unity.  

  “Allura,” Lotor said, turning his remorseful gaze toward her, “I’m terribly sorry. I thought your extraordinary alchemic prowess would conquer this realm, just like you freed the old Paladins. I may have miscalculated the magnitude of the enemy.”

  “No, you haven’t,” she said. “You knew exactly what we were getting into. I did as well. There must be a way. I can feel it, but I believe it is not just up to me this time.”

  “What are you saying?” he asked, eyes narrowing. 

  “You need to step up to the task, too,” Alfor raised his voice from the other side of Allura, enough to make himself heard over the horrifying screeches of the phantom swarm. 

  “But… I’m not an alchemist,” Lotor frowned in doubt. “I… failed the Oriande trial.” The confession stung, more so in front of Alfor, whose prowess was undeniable, but truth had to be told. How could he even compare himself to such powerful alchemists? 

  “He’s only half-Altean, Alfor!” Zarkon’s booming voice resounded into their little bubble. The hemisphere of dark light flickered, as their energies dwindled. Allura’s entity darted like an electron from Paladin to Paladin, slowing down as their forces began to buckle.

  Around them, thousands of eyes glowed ominously atop the dark silhouettes pounding at their alchemic shelter. 

  “Lotor, you must tap into your Altean instincts! They must exist, somewhere deep inside you,” Alfor shouted through the terrifying hailstorm of spears. The king may have mistrusted this man, but now was not the time for such an upset.

  “Think of how you use your entity to disguise Sincline from Honerva’s mind!” Allura urged, desperation edging her tone. “Your mind is more powerful than you believe it to be!”

  Lotor’s nails dug into Allura’s palm, his grip tight with tension. His mind could, indeed, wield the entity, but only to a limited extent—solely to his own benefit, as a self-defense mechanism. He’d never… or at least not to his recollection…

  “The entity! This is it!” Lotor’s voice broke the tension as realization struck him. “I must link my entity to our circle. I have to reach it… somehow.”

  “Ugh… hurry, will you?” Trigel cried out, as spectral claws raked her arms. 

  Above them, profiling against the starless sky, the logoryoct silhouette flickered several times, revealing Sincline’s presence. 

  “No, don’t do that,” Alfor warned sharply. “Honerva will discover us.”

  Lotor scrunched up his face in frustration. “I am aware, King Alfor, but I have no other option. Unlike you Alteans, I cannot multitask my entity!”

  “Do what you must!” Allura pleaded. “We shall deal with this later if need arises!”   

  It was minuscule - a fragment of eternity that had been pulsing inside his chest for ten thousand deca-phoebs. He’d known of the entity’s presence by mere accident, an event that had yielded remarkable discoveries, in retrospect. Also, tremendous losses… 

  The cold, bitter truth was that he had not passed the White Lion’s trial. His ambitious personality had earned him many victories as a Galra, beginning with his precocious wins in the Agotian trials. Despite that, he’d never excelled at anything Altean, as much as he desperately wished. 

  Unlike Alfor though, he’d never thought of the entity as a parasite or malicious bug. To him, it was a symbiont, an integral part of who he was. They shared decisions, they protected each other from harm—a bond as intimate as his own thoughts.

  But now, he was being asked to share this gift with the others. How could he estrange a creature that was embedded into his very being? Would he remain himself if he did? It felt like surrendering a piece of himself- a piece that deserved to remain his. 

  Galra didn’t give. Their entire civilization thrived on taking. It was their strength, but also their curse. Lotor despised their philosophy with all his being, and yet the self-sacrificial Altean way was no better option. A weakness at worst - such as Alfor’s unwise decision to let Altea perish, or a necessary evil at best - as his colonies knew all too well. 

  His hands trembled with indecision. He felt his insides fluttering, as the entity pounded against the walls of his ribcage, reluctant to leave the safe and warm space of his body.

  What if there was a third way? And what would that be?

  The secret is already within you, Allura had once said of her experience at Oriande. For ten thousand deca-phoebs, Lotor had chased this elusive “secret within”, only to have his hopes dashed hard against the rocky shores of failure after Oriande rejected him.

  To his right, Allura whimpered, sweat and tears trickling down her beautiful face. He flinched, realizing his unchecked claws were digging into her palm, causing her much distress. 

  “Ngh…” she collapsed onto her elbows, her strength waning. 

  This was it. Time had run out. A shadowy monster pierced their shield, its grotesque form wrapping around Allura’s waist and hoisting her into the air.

  “No!” Lotor’s scream tore through the night, echoed by the creature inside him, which screeched with a thousand voices. No, no, not Allura! He would never forgive himself if she fell prey to the witch’s dark magic! The stars could fall out of the sky, but no, not her! 

  A strange light erupted, blinding him. He felt his whole being shatter and expand, reaching beyond its confines. 

  Then, silence. The kind of silence that amplifies the sound of one’s heartbeat in their own ears. 

  Lotor blinked, but wisps of that strange light still lingered through his visual field. Allura’s hand was still in his, her grip steady. Blaytz stood at his left, unharmed. 

  “What… just happened?” Gyrgan’s voice broke the quiet as he shook his head, surveying their surroundings with wide eyes. 

  “You did it!” Allura cheered, triumphantly raising her hand—and Lotor’s—with a radiant smile. 

  Through the dark light floaters crossing his vision, he saw her joy and smiled back earnestly. He hadn’t felt so happy since… since they’d been together. 

  Alfor froze, struggling to process what his eyes, ears, and alchemic senses were telling him. As the group remained connected, still holding hands, Allura’s and Lotor’s entities gleefully capered through their link. Two free spirits rejoicing in each other other’s presence, the entities augmented their powers to an incredible magnitude. He could almost hear them whispering to each other, like ancient friends finally reunited after eons apart. 

  The king cast a sidelong glance at his daughter. Her face radiated pure fulfillment. The emotion, that emotion towards Lotor was undeniably there, he could almost touch it through his alchemic reach. He just… couldn’t yet reconcile it. Every expectation he’d harbored, every assumption about her future—about her and Lance—was unraveling, scattered in the winds of his own illusions. The bond between Allura and Lotor defied even his mystical comprehension.

  “You’re sharing your entity with us!” Allura said, her voice trembling with vibrant emotion as she gazed at Lotor.

  Sharing. 

  Lotor’s expression suddenly brightened, his eyes widening with realization. 

  Here it was—the key. The elusive third option he’d been searching for: the Enlightenment. 

  The secret is already within you. 

  He equally belonged to himself and to the others. Just like… the Paladins of Voltron. 

  “Not just sharing,” Alfor remarked, his voice tinged with awe, “but greatly amplifying our alchemy!” He gazed out into the depths of space, where the shockwave of dark light continued expanding, peeling away the tenebrous veil that had been ensnaring thousands of souls. 

  Alfor wished to utter a few words of praise, but his mind was too busy being blown away by the events. Was there any need for words, anyway? Most likely, Lotor already sensed his intentions, since they were all floating in this alchemic pool together. 

  Suddenly, Alfor stood up, pulling everyone else after him. “Melenor?” he murmured, his eyes fixed ahead. A group of Alteans, dressed in ancient garb, advanced toward them, their steps deliberate and haunting. 

  Behind the crowd, five giant holograms towered in silence - the Lions of Voltron. 

  “Mother?” Allura’s voice caught. Alas, the woman did not respond, continuing to trudge in their direction, surrounded by an ever-growing throng of Alteans. 

  “Something’s wrong,” Lotor noticed, his vision finally clearing. The Alteans’ eyes glowed ominously, a chilling feature he knew too well from his own family. 

  “We need to reawaken their memories,” said Allura, taking a few steps back, in sync with the rest of the team. “This is exactly how it happened when I encountered you here, too.”

  “Guys, watch your back,” Blaytz warned, as more people approached from the opposite direction: Galrans, Dalterians, Nalqodians, Rygnirathians and countless others.

  “We need to get to our Lions,” said Zarkon with an urgent voice, an imminent intuition washing over him.  

  “You do that. Allura and I shall board Sincline,” Lotor said, his grip tightening around Allura’s hand. 

  Alfor’s fingers twitched around his daughter’s, a subconscious reaction to Lotor’s gesture. Perhaps he was not yet ready to give his daughter up so easily. Lotor may have unlocked his Altean potential, but he still carried a heavy past. They were all here because he’d forced their hand into taking this trip, to find out the truth about his Altean colonies. 

  But the truth was not out yet.

  And Allura was still his daughter. 

  Admittedly, he had no claim to her choices, since he wasn’t even… alive, per se. He’d relinquished her ten thousand deca-phoebs ago, when he entrusted her in Coran’s care. But he was still her father, and she needed him! Or… did she?

  “Father,” Allura said firmly, jiggling his hand. “I need you to let go,” she demanded, trying to free herself from his grip. 

  Alfor winced out of his thoughts. Let go. Let her go.

  The perilous approach of the hostile souls gave him no option. “Alright, to our Lions,” he conceded. “But… the entities… our protection...” 

 “The connection to the entities will remain,” Lotor reassured him. “Sincline and the Lions will facilitate that.”

  “Now!” Allura yelled with authority.

  The instant their hands parted, they found themselves inside their colossal mechas, poised and ready for whatever came next. 

Chapter Text

  From the high vantage point of their mechas’ cockpits, the seven pilots surveyed the restless sea of aimless figures below—poor souls trapped in a memoryless existence.  

  “How do we awaken their minds?” Blaytz wondered aloud from within the Blue Lion. 

  “The Lions helped us when we were fighting you,” Allura recalled, her tone thoughtful. “Their connection with you—”

  “Yes, but these people aren’t bonded to the Lions,” Alfor interjected. 

  “Then, what are they connected to?” Zarkon asked, his gaze fixed on the desolate landscape below. 

  “Mother most definitely has an attachment to you, Father,” Allura suggested. “I know she wasn’t much into alchemy, but her love for…”

  “Or for you, Allura,” Alfor cut in. “You’re her beloved daughter.”

  “I can’t… I can’t sense anything. Believe me, I am trying to connect with her…” she said despondently.  

  “What about the light you spoke of earlier?” Lotor intervened, his voice measured yet tinged with urgency. “You said ‘Darkness cannot drive out darkness. Only light can.’ Perhaps this pertains to our endeavor. We need to usher in another form of enlightenment.”

  “You know, you’re right, Lotor,” said Alfor, after a moment of pondering. “We need to bestow light upon this dark space.” 

  “The… blazing sword!” Zarkon exclaimed, eagerly. “We need to form Voltron!”

  “We’ve got this!” Trigel cheered, and the team followed the Black Lion’s lead.

  Aboard Sincline, Allura and Lotor watched the five translucent mechas take off, the colorful contrails enlivening the pitch-black sky. 

  Soon, the blazing sword torched through the darkness. For a few doboshes, everyone watched hopefully, tense expectation glimmering in their eyes. Allura zoomed in on one figure in the crowd—her mother. 

  The unnatural glow in Melenor’s eyes persisted, mirrored in thousands of others. “Mother, please wake up…” Allura whispered, the words barely audible, as she witnessed Voltron’s magic cutting into the thick darkness.

  Alas, her mother didn’t fulfill her hopes. Instead of showing signs of awakening, Melenor raised a large bow and arrow, her posture brimming with hostility. All around her, thousands of other Alteans mirrored her actions, targeting the two mechas. Arrows of darkness pelted at their hulls, but the powers of their protective alchemies held firm.

  At one point, Alfor let out a grunt of effort, and tongues of fire burst from Voltron’s broadsword. 

  “Father, are you alright?” Allura shouted, worry cracking through her resolve.

  The king shook his head grimly. “Allura, I don’t believe this is enough. After all, we are not truly piloting Voltron here—it is only a metaphysical projection.”

  “Translation: we need more light,” Gyrgan remarked, his tone pragmatic. 

  “But… Sincline doesn’t have a blazing sword,” Allura frowned, trying to think of an alternative.

  Lotor closed his fists around the helms, eyes slowly draping shut. “You know, Allura, there was a certain time in my life when… I loathed you with my entire being, down to my very core. You most likely recognize which moment I’m pointing at.”

  A dagger twisted in her heart. Of course she remembered. She remembered it vividly, like it had happened yesterday. She’d replayed that battle in her mind countless times over these past few years, dissecting every curse he’d hurled, every insult she’d snapped back, every blast they’d shot at each other in the rift. His final, harrowing screams haunted her, and even to this day, she still had nightmares, regularly waking her in the dead of the night. And the most devastating truth? The Oriande technique she’d employed to defeat him had required… her love.

   “We give Lotor all the power he wants,” she had said on that fateful moment. A tear wandered down her cheek, remembering how she’d exploded her entire love for him into that final blast. All the beautiful feelings she’d ever harbored for him, all her hopes and dreams about their relationship had been channeled into that last blaze shot out of Voltron’s chest. 

  “I had no doubts you’d remember,” Lotor said softly, casting a bittersweet glance into the void. “But what you likely don’t fathom is that your overwhelming light affected me profoundly, despite the fact that I neither desired it, nor expected it.” He paused, adding gravity to the space between his statements. “You shone a light into my raging heart, Allura.”

  She released a shaky exhale she’d been holding for a bit too long. What was he saying?

  “Overloaded with your unexpected gift, I was rendered completely powerless,” he continued. “As you abandoned me, the rift entities attacked. Things are a bit blurry from there on, but I clearly recall feeling your love for me, wrapping around my consciousness like a soothing salve, gently taming my wrathful senses. It is from here that I contacted you, Allura. Now, it is time for you to replicate that, on the scale of many thousands, one for each of these souls trapped here. You need to free them, just like you freed me from my own mental affliction. You are the gifted alchemist who infused my ships with alchemy. I am sure my Sicline can replicate what you did with Voltron.”

  “No,” came Allura’s firm reply. 

  Lotor shifted in his chair, eyes wide with alarm. Was she turning against him once more? 

  “We need to do this together, Lotor. Not just me,” she said. “The gift of love does not end with you. It must continue its travel, as it has for eons. That is the way of Oriande.”

  Gift. Giving. A concept foreign to the Galra. Lotor paused, thinking about his beloved Alteans. Where were they now, trudging through the darkness of Honerva’s mind? 

  “Allura is right,” said Alfor, reminding Lotor that their conversation was not exactly private. “You also have to participate. Trust your Altean instincts. I believe you can do it.”

   Alfor, having faith in him? Since when?

  “Trust your Galra powers, too,” Zarkon added. “Remember, we are a nation of achievers. We always win.”

   Winning? Stars, yes! Victory or death! Even if he had to punch his own Altean half till he bled love out of his pointy ears, he wanted to win this.

  Luckily, there was an gentler way. A satisfied grin hung across his face. 

  “I need you to show me,” he said, his voice low as he turned to Allura, his fangs sparkling like two daggers ready to pierce their next victim. 

  “Show… you?” she echoed, swallowing hard. Sages, her father was listening! At least the visual comms were off.

  He tapped his thigh lightly, silently inviting her over. 

  The metaphysical blush that had been harassing her cheeks as of late deepened once again. Lotor truly was brazen!

   Allura was sure that her father was keenly aware of her shifting emotional landscape. Nevertheless, she stood up, and with a regal tilt of her chin, she addressed Lotor. “Fine. I shall help you, for the sake of these poor souls who need us.” 

  “For the poor souls,” Lotor replied, widely grinning those savage fangs. He extended his hand gallantly, inviting her to sit on his lap. With a guarded expression, she accepted. 

  Sincline, on the other hand, didn’t need any invitation to swiftly respond to her grasping the helms. The machine was made to sing under her guidance. Back in their glory days of working together, Lotor had carefully tuned its resonance to her alchemy.

  His palms curled over her small hands, their combined strength surging through the machine.

  Outside, arrows of darkness continued to rain down, but within the cockpit, their light began to grow.

  “I missed you,” he gently blew the three words into her ear, as he tightened his hold ever so slightly.

  She suppressed a groan, drawing a sharp breath through clenched teeth instead. “Let us begin,” she said with a formal tone. “Expand your consciousness, and with it, all your love for the universe, into every bit of this machine. Let your positive feelings guide you.”

  Positive feelings? That was easy. With Allura close to his chest, the universe suddenly felt more vibrant.

  “Close your eyes,” she guided him, and he happily complied. Even in this metaphysical realm, he could smell delicate floral scents in her hair bun. Did her soul carry the same fragrance as her physical body? Through all their past time together, infusing his comet ore ships with alchemy, his sensitive Galran nostrils had been in a state of blissful distraction. 

  The lights within Sincline burned brighter, the outer chest plate beginning to flicker with incandescent purple.

  “They’re doing it!” Blaytz exclaimed in awe. 

  Alfor loudly cleared his throat. “Not exactly,” he criticized. “You must cast your positivity outward, rather than at each other,” he imparted some hard-earned alchemical wisdom. 

  “Give them some slack, Alfor. Lotor is learning just now,” Zarkon chimed in, siding with the younger duo.

  “Since when have you become so lenient?” Alfor shot back, exasperated. “The longer we stay here, the greater the chance Honerva will find us.”

  “Guys, guys, watch out!” Gyrgan shouted, thrusting the Yellow Lion’s engines to propel Voltron sideways. A rogue beam of quintessence erupted from Sincline’s chest.

  “Well, that’s a start,” said Alfor, finding it a bit unsettling that Sincline aimed at Voltron, especially after his unprompted advice.

  “That came with dedication,” Blaytz teased. “You’d better keep our mouth shut next time, Alfor! Whoa—here it comes again!!”

  “Use the blazing sword!” Lotor snapped back. 

  “What?” Blaytz cried in confusion. 

  “Oh, how brilliant!” Trigel exclaimed, catching on. “We’re going to reflect their beam with the blazing sword! Amplify their light with ours!”

  “Like a mirror!” Zarkon realized. “You two are geniuses!”

  The blazing sword pulsed in random bursts of solar intensity, illuminating the entire landscape in rhythmic flashes. The people on the ground suddenly froze in place, their movements suspended as if caught in time. 

  “Seems to be working,” Gyrgan noted. 

  “Not enough,” Alfor insisted. “We need to create a continuous beam. Allura, Lotor—focus!”

  “Lotor,” she called softly. “Think of your colonies. Your people—our people. They need us.”

  “I know,” Lotor buried his nose in her hair. “Forgive me, my Galran senses kept me… a bit distracted.”

  “I… I could tell,” she almost laughed, but managed to maintain decorum. “Just focus on those you love most… I-I mean, excluding me for the moment.”

  “Hmm, you’re asking a lot, Allura,” he muttered with playful defiance. 

  “Focus!” Alfor barked from his Red Lion, sending sparks into the blazing sword. 

  “Uh-oh, your father is rather furious—like his Lion,” Lotor chuckled. “But alas, I think he’s right this time.”

  “I’m glad we all agree,” Allura sighed, striving to channel all their loving kindness outward. 

  Memories of Altea surged within her: the vibrant energy of her homeworld, the love that once filled her heart.  She thought of her mother - it had been thousands of years since Allura had spoken to her. 

  Every time Allura opened her jewelry box - one of the few objects she’d salvaged from her castle bedroom, she was overwhelmed by memories of her mother. Her family history, emblazoned into rings, wedding bracelets and pendants, gleamed at her, reflecting not just the light, but the past itself. More often than not she’d have to quickly shut the box, unable to confront the sorrow that peered back at her. 
  How would her mother react to Lotor? Would she agree to such an… alliance? And most importantly, how much weight did the Queen’s opinions have on Allura’s own, personal decisions?

  Lotor’s secret colonies… So much mystery shrouded their existence. Some of those Alteans could even be descendants of her own lineage, perhaps distant cousins, lost in the wisps of time. The thought filled her with a mixture of hope and dread. 

  The people of the main colony had been brainwashed by Honerva, reluctant to speak with her, although she was, rightfully, their princess!

  How would these Alteans from the second, martyred colony, relate to her? Would they also look critically upon her? Perhaps, she’d be deemed the one who abandoned them when they needed her most. After all, the king did send her away along with her cozy castle, to be eternally safeguarded from Zarkon’s wrath. 

  Yet she loved them, she loved them all, equally. She never planned to abandon them!

  All around her, Lotor’s warm presence eased her worries. He loved them too, she could feel it. There was pain in his love, a steadfast endurance, and a deep desire for a better future. He didn’t lie about this. 

  “Hey, it’s happening!” Trigel called out, as some of the Altean subjects dropped to their knees. 

  “By Willow, you two are true alchemists!” Gyrgan praised. “I so much want give you a hug right now!” 

  As Allura called out the names of her ancestors, like reading a memorial, Lotor’s own thoughts threaded with hers: Zelias, Hovar, Rahz, Melenor, Petrulius, Alloria, Egnar, Ithior, Tobit, Quolaz, Arias, Normor, Ocellia, Gnauthu, Somerz, wake up, all of you, lost memories from planets known and unknown, rise and receive the enlightenment.

   A collective awakening rippled through the crowd. Queen Melenor stirred, rubbing her forehead as if lifting a veil of amnesia. Around her, Alteans knelt, dazed but alive with renewed awareness. 

  In the distance, a group of Galrans squinted at the strong light, trying to get their bearings. A large gathering of Dalterians stood up, and Trigel couldn’t contain an exhilarating shout of joy, recognizing her own people. More and more folks walked into the light, gazing up at the two giant mechas. 

  “Melenor!” Alfor couldn’t wait any longer, and descended from his Lion.

  Trigel jumped at the chance to go greet her own Dalterians. Blaytz found himself surrounded by Nalquodians, while Gyrgan hailed his Rygnirathians with loud roars of joy.  

  “Alfor…?” the queen extended her arm, incredulously, as if checking the very essence of her reach. “Is it really you?”

  Behind the king, Allura’s silhouette caught her attention. “Allura!” she squealed with surprise, and outstretched her arms. “Why are we here? What is this place?” she hugged them tight as they crashed into her.

  “It is a place we wish didn’t exist,” a deep voice resonated nearby. There was a sense of doom in his tone, so Melenor released her family from the hug, casting her attention at the white-haired man.

  “Your highness,” he said, bowing his head slightly. 

  “Do I know you?” Melenor asked, her steps cautious as she approached him. 

  “In another reality, you probably do,” he replied with a bittersweet smile. 

  “Melenor,” Zarkon interrupted, stepping forward. “Meet my son, Lotor.”

  The queen shuddered, her breath catching. “You?” she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of old enmity. 

  Behind Zarkon, a group of Galrans gathered, watching with great interest. Lotor recognized some of Zarkon’s generals - wiped away by Haggar when she’d summoned them at the last Kral Zera.

  “Mother, please—let me explain,” Allura intervened. “Zarkon is on our side now.”

  “We’re all dead, aren’t we?” Melenor cut her off, the cold realization washing over her. 

  “Not all of us,” Lotor sighed, and the glimmer in his eyes reflected in Allura’s gaze. Melenor swiftly picked up their silent eye conversation. Shaking off her own anxiety, she approached Lotor with a motherly mien. 

  “You and Allura sure look alive,” she said, her palm gently cupping Lotor’s cheek, exploring his lavender skin. “You live in each other’s eyes,” she beamed a knowing smile at him. “Tell me about yourself, young man.”

  Emotion strained Lotor’s vocal chords for an instant, but he quickly recovered. “I’d rather… allow others to narrate my story,” he said, taking a step back. 

  A long path carved itself into the Altean gathering. From afar, a different group of Alteans proceeded forward. They were clad in taupe-colored suits, having a rather specialized, pragmatic purpose, a departure from old Altea’s graceful fashion. 

  Allura felt a rush of adrenaline swirling in her chest. The people he murdered. 

  Lotor slowly aligned himself beside her. “Forgive me…” he whispered with a strangely dark voice that sent a shiver through her. “…for what you’re about to learn,” he finished, his tone sinking even deeper.

  Leading the procession of Altean colonists, a man with light green hair and striking viridian eyes stepped forward into the spotlight. Ignoring everyone else in the crowd, he approached Lotor with a singular focus. “Milord,” he said, and reverently came down on one knee. Behind him, the vast expanse of Altean compatriots—stretching for miles to the horizon—followed suit, kneeling in unison. 

  “Petrulius.” Lotor gently rested a hand atop the man’s head, before motioning him to rise. “I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.”

  “Did we lose?” Petrulius asked, the green in his eyes darkening with apprehension. 

  “Almost. That is why I need your help.”

  “We shall do anything you request of us,” Petrulius pressed a fist across his chest, and the entire procession echoed his gesture. 

  “My family and friends gathered here”—Lotor gestured toward his companions—“would like to know more about Operation Evershadow.” His tone was frank, yet full of gravity. 

  Operation Evershadow. The name alone sent Allura’s thoughts spiraling into dark, foreboding places. 

  As if awoken from a hypnotic state, the green-haired man finally took note of the others surrounding his revered lord. His eyes widened as they landed on Zarkon, towering and grim.

  “Yes, he’s my father,” Lotor said, reading his expression. “Do not be afraid. I’ve already defeated him. He no longer poses a threat.”

  “But… But sire…He’s—”

  “Dead,” Lotor said bluntly. “Like everyone else here. Well, almost everyone.” His candor drew a disapproving frown from Zarkon. 

  “And… these people must be…” Petrulius began, his voice trembling.

  “The rest of the Paladins,” Lotor nodded. 

  “King Alfor! Queen Melenor! Princess Allura! The heroes of our legends!” Petrulius exclaimed, kneeling once again and bowing until his forehead touched the ground, as if venerating ancient Gods. “Every child in our mother colony grew up learning about your wise ruling. We humbly—”

  “Please rise,” Allura interrupted, her tone a bit impatient. “Operation Evershadow,” she stated firmly, pausing for emphasis. “Do tell its story, I am kindly asking you.” 

  Next to her, Lotor gave a slight nod of encouragement to Petrulius. “Begin from the olden days of the Great Death.”

Chapter Text

  “The Great Death?” Petrulius raised an eyebrow. How could something so ancient have any relevance to their secret operations?

  “It is deeply tied with the entire story, Petrulius. As you recount it, I shall intersperse additional details that will further elucidate everything, including ones unknown to you, my loyal friend,” Lotor explained, causing the Altean man to jerk his head back in surprise. 

  “Very well,” Petrulius said, moistening his lips as he prepared to tell a long story. 

  Allura folded her arms tightly, steeling herself for the greatest mystery of all Altean existence. King Alfor placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, while Queen Melenor gently rubbed her back.   

  “The Great Death,” Petrulius began, his voice heavy, “as you likely surmised, was a pandemic that struck our Quantum Abyss colony - our only colony at that time. It occurred roughly five thousand deca-phoebs ago. No one knows its origin, but about half of our population was decimated. Nothing of such magnitude had ever been recorded in our existence, and that came in the context of a civilization that prided itself on being healers. 

  “History has it that the people who passed away were having symptoms of very quick depletion of vital energy, paranoia and ultimately, complete loss of memory, emaciation, and death. Those who survived, though gravely affected at first, managed to control the symptoms. They not only recovered, but went on to live far longer than previous generations—thanks to a miraculous treatment brought to us in extreme secrecy from the empire by Prince Lotor. It was a dangerous risk under emperor Zarkon’s ruthless rule.”

  Petrulius hesitated, glancing toward Zarkon. “Forgive me, sire, but it’s the truth.” 

  “Please, speak freely,” Zarkon replied. “I assume the miraculous treatment was… quintessence?”

  “Indeed,” Petrulius replied with a faint smile. “As the records show, the next generation of Alteans had somehow managed to acquire immunity to this disease, displaying none of the symptoms. Since then, we’ve been free of it, and have lived longer lives—all thanks to our Savior’s intervention. Oh, yes, milord, please,” Petrulius bowed as Lotor showed his intention to add a few words. 

  Lotor cleared his voice, unease in his stance as he held Petrulius’ gaze. “About the origins of this pandemic…”

  “Honerva?” Zarkon cut in with an assured tone. 

  “Not directly,” Lotor replied. “Although she is to blame for the origins of the entity, she wasn’t the one to introduce it to the colony.”

  “Sire, the entity?” Petrulius exclaimed, the horrid realization crossing his features. 

  “Yes,” Lotor confirmed gravely. “The Great Death was caused by the entity.” 

  “But we are immune to it!” the Altean man protested. “No one has ever gotten sick from it! We even manipulate it in our labs without falling ill!”  

  “You are not immune. You are symbiont hosts. Since the Great Death, everyone in the colony has had the entity,” said Lotor, as Petrulius gaped at him incredulously. “Almost everyone, I should say. For genetic reasons my Galra scientists have only recently unraveled, a very small group of Alteans were never compatible hosts for the entity.”

  “Such as Romelle,” said Allura, bluntly. 

  “Precisely,” Lotor nodded, his brow lifting in surprise. How had she deduced that so quickly? 

  “Go on,” she urged, tapping her foot. “Who brought the plague to the colonies?”

  Lotor inhaled sharply. “My cat, Kova.”

  “Damn!” Alfor released an uncharacteristic curse. “I knew that cat was trouble ever since Honerva told me he’d reached twenty-eight deca-phoebs. They’re only supposed to live twelve to fifteen!”

  “It was completely my fault,” Lotor admitted, his voice thick with regret. “I brought the cat with me on one of my trips to the colony, and since children have always held a soft spot in my heart, I allowed Nadim to play with him. Poor Nadim.” 

  Lotor wiped a tear off his cheek.

  “It only took one playful bite. He got sick a couple of vargas later, and then within quintants his entire family, the village, and then the whole community fell severely ill. I should have known, ever since Haggar warned me, ‘Do not touch him. He will hurt you.’ But I was just a child back then, and Kova never hurt me, so Haggar’s words never stuck with me. Little did I know back then, but Kova never harmed me because I also carried the entity. I was born with it. Second-generation symbiont, as I later discovered,” said Lotor, his palm dropping limply over his thigh.

  “So this entity… spreads like a virus?” Allura asked. 

  “Indeed,” said Lotor. “Alteans make ideal hosts, because they have much higher levels of quintessence than other species. Magical Alteans even more so, as they display a three-fold and up to a hundred-fold higher quintessence reserve than a regular Altean. With so much energy available within a magical Altean, the entity will behave as a capacitor, able to store extremely large amounts of quintessence.”

  “Batteries,” Allura muttered, regarding him with narrow eyes. She remembered Luca, Tavo, and the rest of the pilots they’d scooped from the Komar mechas. 

  “Yes.” He attempted a smile, but her eyes narrowed further. 

  “I just assumed that Honerva infected the main colony with entities,” said Allura, rubbing her chin. “But what you’re saying…”

  “They were symbionts long before that witch set foot on the sacred soil of my colony,” Lotor rasped. “She merely seized control.”

  “Wait, Zarkon’s witch took over our main colony??” Petrulius yelped in panic. “No!” he groaned, raking his hands through his hair. 

  “I’m sorry, my friend, I failed you,” said Lotor, his tone heavy with guilt. “I couldn’t protect you.”

  “Who tipped her off about our location?!” Petrulius seethed. 

  “She… had spies,” Lotor admitted with a weary sigh. “It’s a long story.”

  “And somewhere in that long story, my Voltron team is involved too,” Allura said, despondently. “If Keith hadn’t found your colony—”

  “What is done is done, Allura,” Lotor interrupted, his voice quivering. “There is blame on both sides. Petrulius, please resume your story. You still have much to share.”

  “Thank you, sire.” Petrulius dipped his head in respect before continuing. “So… a few hundred deca-phoebs after the pandemic, another, worse plague threatened to destroy our colonies: the Galra empire. As history has it written in our Second Colony books, Cossacck, a Galra warlord, eventually traced one of our lord’s secret quintessence shipments into the Abyss, as we were still reeling from the aftermath of the Great Death. He began sending probes and spies. Prince Lotor did everything in his power to protect us, deploying his defense cruisers, but the attacks came in ever-growing waves. The risk of even one Galra agent returning to the empire with news of our existence was too great. It was truly an all-or-nothing war. 

  “And that’s when Prince Lotor decided to establish the Second Colony,” Petrulius said, raising his bold green eyes to meet Allura’s gaze.

  “By promising you another ‘safe’ hiding place to live in peace,” Allura snarked. 

  Petrulius took a step back, taken by surprise by the princess’s attitude. Truthfully, Lotor had made enticing promises to those who volunteered for the Second Colony. 

  “If I were offered another chance to go to the Second Colony, I would do it again without hesitation,” Petrulius countered, sparks of ire glinting in his green irises. “All of us here would,” he added, turning to his fellow colonists, and heads nodded all across the long line. “For our families. For our people. Wouldn’t you?” 

  “I would always choose my people over myself,” Allura conceded. “But I would never promise my own kin safe passage to another planet, only to later enslave them and syphon their quintessence without their consent,” Allura replied categorically. 

  “Forgive me, princess Allura, but I believe you have some facts mixed up,” Petrulius replied boldly. “We willfully gave ourselves—and everything we had—yes, that includes our quintessence—to protect our home planet and, later, to help our Savior in his quest to better the universe. Again, I ask you: knowing that the Galra would destroy your home world, wouldn’t you do the same? King Alfor, you sacrificed yourself to protect Altea—the legendary planet Altea that our ancestors revered. What say you?”

  “I’d like to hear the entire story, before I give my honest opinion,” Alfor muttered, while Allura and Lotor looked daggers at each other for a few moments. 

  “Fair enough. Let’s talk Operation Evershadow,” Petrulius resumed. “One of the moons of our main colony planet has a side that never sees the sunlight - the ‘Evershadow’ side. There, we have a special facility.”

  “The Second Colony,” Allura commented. 

  “Part of it,” Petrulius explained. “The Second Colony comprises multiple locations on the moon’s surface. Evershadow is the most secret facility. It’s where we developed our defense systems - the Xàleys.”

  “The… what?” Alfor frowned. 

  “The Xàleys are multi-legged creatures native to the hostile environment of the Quantum Abyss, adapted to survive the constant time-warping flares.”

  As Petrulius spoke, snippets his memories projected across the void. White, spider-like creatures, emerging from a deep chasm, swarmed off into the red-and-green sky of the Quantum Abyss. 

 “With the Galra empire constantly knocking at our doors, we had to quickly develop an efficient defense system,” Petrulius continued. “After a few deca-phoebs of trial and error, we succeeded. On the Evershadow, we built a farm where we bred Xàleys, as well as entities.”

  “You farmed entities?” Allura grilled him.

  “Yes. Given the proper amount of nourishment, the entities enter their reproductive cycle. We had assistance from Lord Lotor’s team of skilled scientists—Galra defectors who once worked under Haggar on similar projects. But… that’s another story. In a controlled environment, we infused the white creatures with entities, then trained them for battle. We primed them to attack anything and anyone that entered the Quantum Abyss, while programming them to recognize our colony signatures and ships. The entity gives them the marvelous capability to teleport—a great advantage in battle.”

  “This kind of operation must have required enormous amounts of quintessence to sustain the entities,” Melenor said, recalling her husband’s nerdy experiments, many of them failures, as he lacked proper sources of energy. 

  “We were the source of quintessence,” said Petrulius. “That is why Master Lotor selected only magical Alteans to travel to the moon colony—because we had optimal levels of quintessence. We were the chosen ones, destined to protect our families from the Galra.”

  “Pfft. Destined.” Alfor scoffed, shaking his head at Lotor, in disapproval. “You could have collected quintessence from Balmera crystals, or… or Zelaxian springs! Why torture Alteans to give up their life source?”

  “My beloved King Alfor, which part of this equation escapes you?” Lotor’s voice took on a sharp edge, his patience fraying. “I was banished from the empire. Every move I made was tracked by Haggar’s and my father’s spies. One wrong step could have ended the colonies in an instant. Let me make this very clear. I had no other choice. Everything had to be produced in-house.”

  “He’s right,” Zarkon intervened. “I gave very specific orders to monitor my son, and my wife carried them out impeccably. Despite that, you still managed to evade my scrutiny, didn’t you?” he said, beaming a fanged smile at his son.

  “Oh, you have no idea…” Lotor replied with spite, while the corners of his eyes caught Allura discreetly wiping a tear. “My apologies, Petrulius. Please, go on,” he then said, turning to the Altean. 

  “Thank you, your majesty,” Petrulius said, regaining his composure. “As I was saying, our quintessence sustained the farm. We established a seasonal rhythm, recruiting additional manpower from the main colony every ten-fifteen deca-phoebs, depending on… losses.”

  “Please stop,” Allura’s voice trembled. “Define ‘losses.’”

  Petrulius hesitated.

  “The HS,” Lotor said with an icy tone, nodding once at Petrulius.

  “The HS…” the Altean man repeated, “or Harvesting Station, was a moon facility run by a few trusted scientists from Lord Lotor’s Galra crew. We’d take turns in the pods, donating almost all our quintessence.”

  “Almost?” Allura raised an eyebrow, her arms tightening around her chest. “Keith reported you were all… lifeless, inside the extraction pods. Completely drained.”

  “What? I—I don’t know how that happened,” Petrulius stammered, a look of consternation crossing his face. 

  “Was there any Galra crew left aboard the station?” Lotor asked Allura, a strange suspicion flickering in his eyes.

  “Keith told me it looked abandoned—dust all over the place,” Allura replied, a tinge of guilt lacing her tone. 

  “Someone killed my crew of scientists,” Lotor quickly deduced with a horrified gasp.

  “It wasn’t Voltron, I can assure you,” Allura said with a dignified tone. 

  “The bizarre part of this is that they obliterated only Galrans, but left the Alteans unscathed, as far as I understand from this whole story,” Melenor noted.

  “Perhaps your ‘loyal’ Galrans fled?” Alfor guessed, sarcasm lacing his voice.

  “They’d never abandon me. They were… um, mind-programmed to obey me, by one of my generals. Plus, they didn’t know the safe passage out of the Abyss without my charts. Someone killed them,” Lotor concluded without any shred of doubt.

  “Was there anyone else who knew the passage routes through the Abyss?” Allura asked with a concerned gaze. 

  “Only one other person—Narti,” Lotor sighed. “But I… put her out of her misery when I discovered that Haggar had infiltrated her mind. Perhaps Haggar was able to access that part of her mind before I severed the connection,” he said, narrowing his eyes in a broody expression. 

  “I don’t know if this helps in any way, but…” Zarkon dithered. “…a few phoebs before my death, I remember that one of my generals—Warlord Ranveig—experimented with a monster he’d found in the Quantum Abyss. I wasn’t paying much attention to the entire development as I was preoccupied with larger matters in the empire, but my understanding was that the creature got out of control, preferentially killing Galrans. Could that beast be responsible…?”

  Lotor didn’t reply, his expression darkening. What kind of creature had been capable of breaching into the Quantum Abyss without being quickly eliminated by the Xàleys? Only someone deemed ‘friend’ would be allowed that kind of passage. And those people were… himself, his Galra scientists—after a rigorous mind-processing performed by Narti, and… Narti herself! 

  “Petrulius, please continue,” Lotor said darkly, clenching his fists as if to quash his frustration about this enigma. 

  The green-haired Altean bowed slightly in reverent acknowledgement. “Very well, sire. So, aboard the Harvesting Station, we’d only extract as much quintessence as we could safely replenish, which, for a magical Altean can mean quite a lot. We are rather resilient beings. In fact, Princess Allura, as a direct descendant of a great alchemist, you are most likely one of the chosen ones too. I don’t know if you’ve ever been…”

  “Almost drained of my energy?” Allura said. “Many times.”

  “Yet you somehow managed to recover, didn’t you?” Petrulius asked, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.

 “True,” Allura admitted, her expression softening. 

  “So. We have the capacity to recharge from our environment rather quickly,” the man continued.

  “Yet you still encountered losses,” Allura replied, emphasizing the final word, her intent clear.

  “Princess, we knew the risks,” he said. “We knew some of us wouldn’t make it out of those pods, especially after sessions spaced too closely together.”

  Allura blinked fast, trying to fathom her own feelings about this. These Alteans were pushing themselves to the limit. How often had she drained herself to the brink of extinction? Had it not been for Coran and the Paladins to help her out of perilous situations, she’d be gone by now. 

 “How did Romelle’s brother die?” Allura asked, turning to Lotor. Her stormy blue eyes were piercing, her expression mercurial.

  “He should never have been selected to go to the moon colony,” Lotor admitted, his voice heavy with regret. His eyelids drooped, weighed down by the memory. “He cheated his entry, by faking his quintessence levels with a device hidden under his tunic. He was skilled with technology but… ultimately, the extraction pods do not lie,” he sighed. 

  “My Galra techs soon discovered that he was in critical condition and they reversed the process, but he wasn’t responding well, so they pulled him out of the vat. As soon as he regained consciousness, he panicked, sprang out of the treatment bed, and off he flew to the main colony… where he crashed. It was a tragedy. I tried to save him, Allura. I truly did.”

  “I’m assuming he didn’t have the entity either, since he and Romelle share similar genetic traits,” Allura inferred. 

  “Yes… Indeed,” Lotor nodded. 

  “Meanwhile, everyone in the Second Colony was a symbiont,” Allura continued.

  “Y-yes, yes,” Lotor agreed, though unease flickered across his face. Around them, Petrulius and the entire gathering listened with rapt attention. 

  “And aside Bandor, they all followed you with unquestioning devotion,” Allura pressed.

  “Where are you going with this, Allura?” Lotor asked, an edge of apprehension creeping into his voice. 

  “You know exactly where I’m going.” She placed a hand on his chest, taking him by surprise with her gentle touch. “The entity bonded all of you. Every decision you collectively took was influenced by the entity—including the decision to keep these operations secret from the Main Colony, since some of the Alteans there were not symbionts.”

  “Are you implying…?” he trailed off. 

  “The entity has a mind of its own, and its own agenda,” Allura said, looking him in the eye. “Its main objective is survival, no matter what. Did the entity help you? Yes, no doubt. But at what cost? You all were its food source.”

  “It might painfully appear so,” Lotor said, wrapping his fingers gently around her hand, still resting on his chest. “But I had no other choice, Allura. My father would have destroyed everything I worked for, if I ever looked elsewhere for a means of defense.”

  “You’re right,” she whispered, nodding slowly and repeating her statement. “You’re right. Disturbingly and… and undeniably right.” Her expression softened, though a pained look lingered in her eyes. “I can see it clearly now.” She glanced toward Zarkon, who averted his gaze, guilt etched into his features. “You truly had no way out of this—for thousands of years…” Her voice cracked as she released a small whimper, leaning forward until her forehead rested against Lotor’s knuckles. 

  His free arm encircled her shoulders in a tender embrace. Leaning close, his lips brushed her forehead. “Forgive me… for keeping this from you. I hope you understand now why I couldn’t tell you earlier. I was so close to revealing everything. So. Close…” he said, gesturing a one-inch space between his thumb and forefinger. “Once we supplied the empire with rift quintessence, all the senseless exploitations, infights and clan rivalries would have ceased. Altea could have emerged from hiding in a safe and prosperous environment.”

  “Wait, your plan was to enter the rift and extract quintessence?” Alfor interjected, his eyes widening. 

  “Yes, father,” Allura replied instead, slowly raising her head from Lotor’s chest and glancing back at the king. “And I helped him,” she stated with finality.

  Before adding anything, Lotor took a few moments to steel his nerves. It seemed like the man was still poised to challenge him. “Do you mind sharing a better plan for taming a multi-galactic empire that has known only violence and greed for ten thousand deca-phoebs?” 

   “Holy Sages! Emperor Lotor, son of Zarkon and Princess Allura, my wayward daughter! Do you realize you were playing right into the the entity’s hands?” Alfor barked back. “Those creatures crave quintessence, and the rift—their home world—is their ultimate source! Reopening the rift would have been catastrophic! I nuked Daibazaal for a reason—so we wouldn’t have those monsters in our backyard again.”

  Lotor wasted no tick. “No, you sealed the rift to prevent a reality breach. But the damage was done, King Alfor. The entities were already among us.”

  “You’re right,” Melenor interjected, her tone calm but firm. She cast a glance at her husband, who sighed heavily. “But my husband had no choice either. Zarkon’s decision to expand the rift gate destabilized it completely. We had to close it, or risk the collapse of the entire universe.”

  “You did what you had to. And so did I,” Lotor replied. He then gestured toward his colonists. “With their help, I reopened it. We rebuilt a secure gate—juniberry-shaped, the most stable architecture. Gnautu and Ithior were instrumental in its design,” he praised two old Alteans, who stepped forward with a reverent bow. 

  Alfor pinched the bridge of his nose. The rift had been reopened—by Alteans, no less.  Descendants of his great kingdom of Altea had aided Lotor in this plan. 

  “When did you build that?” Zarkon asked, realizing his son had been conducting a lot of clandestine operations behind his back. 

  “During the last five hundred deca-phoebs of your reign,” said Lotor, with a defiant smile. 

  “And the quintessence necessary for its construction came from…?” Melenor asked, with a rather rhetorical tone. Her inclination to quickly assess costs and expenses came from her long history of managing her husband’s royal finances. The King’s rather… creative nature oftentimes led to impulsive purchases, and it didn’t help that Coran and his penchant for getting into dubious deals with Unilu pirates also inflated the bills considerably. Luckily, she also ran her own backdoor lines of defense, networking to put a stop to many absurd experiments before the Royal House would go bankrupt. 

  “The quintessence for the rift project came from our Refinery Station,” Petrulius replied, opening a whole new subject. 

  “The… Refinery?” Alfor’s voice faltered. Quintessence refinery. No, no, that didn’t sound ominous at all.

  “Yes,” Petrulius acknowledged calmly. “Prince Lotor brought us the specs from Haggar’s refinery, and we adapted them for our facility. There, our alchemists refined the raw quintessence yielded by the Harvesting Station into the purest, brightest form, essential for our most precise construction in the universe.”

  “You had alchemists at the compound?” Alfor asked, his eyes squinting.

  “Well, I mean, it would be unfair to compare them with your Highness’s unmatched skills, but for the purpose of our needs, they were proficient,” Petrulius replied. 

  “They did a fantastic job,” Lotor praised. “And for many deca-phoebs, we were able to transport these special batches via unmarked ships to the Daibazaal rift site, where I had a secret team of Alteans working incessantly. It took us a lot of blood and tears to finally get it right…” he acknowledged with a mournful gaze, “but we succeeded in reopening a perfectly stable gate.”

  Allura slowly closed her eyes, pondering on the revelations. Everything he’d told her was accurate, just not in the way she thought. 

  “It’s true. Many Alteans perished in my quest to unlock the mysteries of quintessence,” he’d confessed some years ago, pressured by her wrath. 

  Unlocking the gate to the largest source of quintessence had taken a heavy toll on the Alteans. They were “martyrs to a noble cause”, as they’d given up their quintessence to defend their home world and to open up a path to peace in the universe. 

  Alas, her father was also right. Unlocking this gate would have allowed the entities free passage to and from the rift, which, in retrospect, seemed like a decision influenced by the entity itself. 

  But was it truly a malevolent decision? Did Lotor truly crave all the power and glory for himself, as everyone had assumed until not long ago?

  “You and I desire the same thing. We both seek to destroy Haggar,” she remembered her vision. Was that his voice? Or the entity’s?

  What did the entity truly want? Whose will did it serve? In Haggar’s hands, it was a tool for destruction. On the other hand, Lotor wielded it for his own agenda, which he spoke of as “a noble cause”.

  Most unsettling though? Allura herself was now using the entity. Could she even trust her own thoughts, or was everything just an illusion conjured by that tiny creature’s power?

   At what cost? Her father’s words struck deep. A cold premonition shivered down her spine. 

  Lotor seemed to sense her turmoil. His hand pressed gently over hers. “Allura, my intentions were always for the best—”

  “Was New Altea going to take over the Galra empire?” she cut him in with a composed voice. One final test. She needed to know. 

  He hesitated. “You mean…” 

  “Once you gathered enough rift quintessence to build your own war machines—was that your plan?”

  He held her gaze for a few moments, reading into her silent energy. 

  “Answer me, please,” she implored softly.

  The Galra generals behind Zarkon stirred, their disdain palpable.

  “I… intended for my Altean people to co-rule alongside competent Galra leaders. Certainly not the corrupt kinds that my father surrounded himself with,” he said, shooting a pointed glance at the assembly of warlords. “My Alteans had no issue collaborating with my loyal Galra officers. They would have continued doing so after we’d brought peace to the empire.”

  “Peace…” Allura sighed. “Preceded by war, to overthrow the existing warlords, I presume.”

  “Potentially,” he admitted. “Based on my research into the history and politics of the universe, I believe that the prosperity brought over by the abundance of quintessence would have pacified the evil spirits, preventing further violence. But I don’t have all the right answers, Allura. Anything could have happened. I was—”

  “Winging it?” she quipped, a faint smile playing on her lips. Her volatile disposition kept him on his toes. One dobosh she’d be siding with him against her own father, the next dobosh she’d grill him hotter than a kraellian steak.  

  He returned her smile, though it was darker, laced with bitter amusement. “We would have been ‘winging it’ together, Allura,” he said emphatically, pressing her hand over his chest again. “As emperor and empress, our Royal Alliance would have inspired others and surely, we’d have stricken the right balance in all our decisions. But, as it seems,” his tone shifted, “you’ve found a rebound in your current human companion—a man who has yet to grasp the simplest etiquette, let alone the intricacies of ruling an empire.” 

  He released her hand, letting it fall away from his chest, as though giving her back a piece that once belonged to him. His smile vanished. 

  Her brow furrowed as she cast her eyes downward. What could she say to that?

  Lotor turned his wistful eyes to the thousands of Alteans gathered around them. “Everything I’ve spent millennia fighting for, taken away in an instant.”

  Her cheeks burned. Indeed, she and her team obliterated his work, including the rift gate, in a moment of blind fury, driven by her misconstrued image of him. 

  Her fingers writhed with unease. She had her reasons, too. “You must be aware that I, too, lost everything. My planet, my family, my friends…” she replied with dignity, gesturing to the people around her. “Surely, you can understand why I distrusted the Galra so deeply. When the Paladins arrived, they helped me regain my belief in a brighter future and—”

  “And yet,” Lotor cut in, his voice rising slightly, “you still don’t see it, Allura. You never had to earn power. It’s always been given to you. You’re seeking something you once had: peace, security, happiness. Those were never part of the Galra vocabulary. I had to invent my own vision of peace. And yes, that involved a bit of duplicity.”

  She flinched, the echo of another conversation ringing in her ears. Didn’t her recent discussion with Lieutenant Lahn go similarly? 

 “I know, and I’m doing my best to grasp the gravity of it all, believe me,” she nodded with a downcast gaze. “You truly had no other options.”

  Alfor took a few steps toward them. “But you have a different way now. There’s a Coalition. You have choices.”

  “Do we? Take a look at the current situation,” Lotor countered, gesturing around. “The poor Coalition is crumbling under its own honesty, while the witch is swiftly making gains. I had to secretly step in and provide Allura with this new weapon - the entity. If she uses her alchemic skills well, she may succeed, but it isn’t a guarantee. We may already be too late.” 

  A chilling emotion gnawed at her chest. Was he more right than she dared admit? In all truth, she’d been pondering about her choices lately, and her decision to take the entity came after the Coalition’s terrible defeat at Oriande. 

  “Who are you to question my tactics in bringing peace and prosperity to the universe?” he’d uttered on that fateful day - words that haunted her still. 

  A tear fell to the ground. “I’m truly sorry,” she whispered. “I, the spoiled child of a prosperous nation, petulantly questioned your decisions, without pausing to hear your story. I ruined it, didn’t I?”

  In that fragile silence between two breaths, someone else spoke before Lotor could reply.

 “Yes, you really did ruin it, wayward daughter of Altea,” Honerva’s deep, menacing voice cut through the air like a blade.

  A collective gasp of panic rippled through the crowd, and people retreated from her path. Galrans readied their weapons, while Zarkon froze, torn between joy at seeing her and dread at knowing her true powers. 

  “This… is what you’ve done to my son!” Honerva cast her angry eyes upward, at a projection of her own recent memory. Lotor flinched, staring at… himself, with a mix of shock and disbelief.  

  Allura’s stomach twisted painfully. She would have preferred a blade to the heart over seeing that horrid image again. She turned her head away, tears brimming in her eyes.

  “Look at him,” Honerva hissed, her claws reaching for Allura’s chin to force her gaze upward. “Look at what you’ve done to my son!”

  “Don’t you dare touch her!” Lotor stepped between them, his stance unyielding. 

  For an instant, Honerva’s eyes flickered with consternation, but quickly darkened back to seething fury. “My son. How can you forgive her?”

  “I’m not your son, just as you’re not my mother. Depart our presence, witch!” Lotor snarled.

  “Your presence?” Honerva let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “May I remind you all. This is my own mind. You’ve entered it without my permission. Don’t give me orders in my own house, insolent child!”

  “I am not your s—”

  “Honerva, my darling,” Zarkon’s deep voice rumbled as he stepped forward, hands outstretched in a placating gesture. “Can we talk about this? He’s a bit confused, but I’m sure we can resolve this.” His large palms reached out to her small shoulders.

  “Father, no!” Lotor’s voice cracked with desperation. “One touch and she’ll corrupt you again. Stay away from this poisonous creature!”

   Zarkon froze, his large hands trembling mid-reach.

   “How dare you speak to me that way! My own son!” Honerva rasped, as tendrils of darkness burst forth, swirling violently around her. 

  “Run!” Alfor screamed, shielding Melenor and Allura as the dark energy surged toward the crowd. 

  Time slowed, each motion a rippling echo of the one before it. From behind Alfor, Allura watched Lotor raise his palms toward Honerva—perhaps a desperate, last-moment decision, or perhaps a calculated gesture. What she hadn’t expected was the alchemic mandala blooming from the roots of his palms, forming a colossal circular shield that intercepted Honerva’s dark tendrils, halting their deadly advance toward the fleeing crowds. 

  “Everyone, take to the ships!” Lotor yelled as he strained with all his might against the more experienced witch. 

  Without giving it a second thought, Allura sprinted out of her father’s arms.

  “You will not harm another soul!” she shouted, boosting Lotor’s protective spell with her own alchemy.

  “Daughter!” Alfor called, fighting his way through the stampede, while the other Paladins circled Melenor protectively. 

  “Father, get to Voltron! Take Mother and everyone else away from here!” she demanded with raw determination. 

  Ignoring her plea, he joined their shimmering link. “She’s too powerful! I’ll stay and help for as long as I can.”

  Beyond their radiant barrier, the two entities performed a violent dance of willpower and magic in strange luminous circles, fending off the myriads of darker versions spewed out by Honerva. Behind them, thousands of souls took to the sky, like fireflies seeking refuge within the two giant mechas towering solemnly over the storm. 

  “Father, please go…” Allura groaned. “Our people need you. You must pilot Voltron out of her mind!”

  “But I can’t leave you here like this!” he protested, anguish etched across his face. 

  “You’re not helping!” she took a resolute step forward, carrying the shield with her. Behind,  Lotor’s open palms fed an aura of energy around her, bolstering her advance. 

  “What is she doing?” Alfor muttered incredulously, his brow creased. 

  There was a vague chatter that Alfor sensed within their link—more like a whisper. With a flick of her wrists, Allura inverted the shield’s polarity, a maneuver so unexpected it caught Alfor off guard. 

  “We do what we must,” Lotor intoned, eyes alight with that strange luminescence, his voice carrying the resonance of a thousand otherworldly voices. 

  Words gave way to pure emotion, the abstract dialogue gaining intensity. Unity, love, light, freedom, all interlaced, overpowering the tidal wave of Honerva’s dark magic. More and more entities broke free from Honerva’s hold, drifting into Allura’s mandala of energy, melting into the radiant warmth of her spell. Their combined power surged, pushing Honerva backwards.

  Alfor’s gaze lingered on his daughter—the same little girl who once chased glittering beetles across the green fields of their castle grounds. She adored juniberry necklaces, sparkly zyo-crystal earrings and golden bracelets, but she also found fun in playing with his tangled beard, his Red Lion’s control panels and the mysteries of alchemy. And when she grew older, she became one of the few Alteans in the universe capable of operating a teludav, despite his initial doubts. 

  Since then, magic and piloting the castle took over all her other jolly interests. Alfor would have rather watched her delight in sparkly things than space ship matters, but… this girl was his daughter. 

  And standing steadfast behind her, Zarkon’s son poured every fragment of his love, hope and strength into their united spell. 

  In that blazing crucible of light and shadow, Alfor finally understood. 

  A single red firefly took to the sky, soon arriving in his Lion’s cockpit. “Zarkon, is everyone aboard?” Alfor’s voice carried newfound resolve. 

  “All set,” the emperor replied. 

  “Then let’s go—now!” Alfor cried out with determination. 

  “We’ll be right behind you,” Lotor promised, pouring everything he had into the shield.

  “You are not going anywhere!” Honerva shrieked with fury and despair. “I am not losing my son to this spoiled woman!”

  “Go away!” Lotor roared, and with him a choir of entities echoed. Honerva staggered, as a vortex of alchemy swept her deeper into the darkness of her own abyss.

  But just as he strained for another push against the witch, he felt Allura’s resistance. Confused, he applied slight pressure again. 

  “No,” Allura said firmly.

  They had the power to end the witch at their fingertips, yet Allura held back! 

  Alas, she was right. His proud victory would have also meant annihilation—for the thousands of people still trapped in Honerva’s mind, including himself and Allura. 

  The darkness lurking in the distant horizon coiled and tensed in ominous threads, preparing to strike again. 

  In that moment of agency, Lotor’s arms wrapped around Allura’s waist. Their alchemy folded into itself, pulling them upward—into Sincline’s cockpit. 

  Before Honerva could catch up, Voltron’s blazing sword carved through the veil of her consciousness, and both mechas burst free at full speed.

  The silent expanse of the purple horizon felt like a soothing reward after the harrowing chaos they’d endured.

  Allura let out a long sigh, as Sincline and Voltron touched down in the serene space. 

  “There must be a way to destroy that witch,” Lotor suddenly grunted, causing her to wince out of her respite. 

  “I’m not going back there, even if you promise to resurrect me,” Blaytz quipped, his blue flabby ears quivering.

  “She can’t be defeated from inside her mind anyway,” Alfor shook his head with a resolute expression. 

  “Unless you want to go down with her too,” Trigel concurred. 

  “And where you’re going next, we can’t follow you,” Zarkon said, as the Voltron silhouette dissipated. Thousands of souls scattered across the violet void like stardust. The old Paladins soon found themselves standing, facing Allura and Lotor again. 

  “It is up to you two from here on out.” Alfor placed a gentle hand on Allura’s shoulder, while casting an earnest smile at Lotor. 

  “I know…” Allura’s voice trembled with the weight of farewell. A radiant light crept in from behind the horizon, engulfing thousands of silhouettes. She leaned in to hug her father one last time, with Melenor joining them.

  “Group hug?” Gyrgan asked with a tearful gaze, and all the Paladins piled over. A few feet away, Lotor watched silently. 

  “I will see you soon,” Allura whispered in their ears, before releasing them, causing them to slightly shudder. Soon? 

  Melenor gently squeezed Allura’s hand, before letting go. “You will succeed, Allura. With Lotor beside you, nothing can stop you. I have faith in you two.”

  Alfor turned to Lotor, his voice firm, yet cordial. “I may have doubted you, son of Zarkon. But your heart is in the right place—next to my daughter’s.”

  Allura’s cheeks felt warm, as her father motioned a forearm shake with Lotor, but her heart quickly sank. 

  “As much as I desire to further aid Allura out there in the physical realm,” said Lotor with heavy eyes, “I could not possibly do that. The only reason my consciousness is still here is because of Sincline. The witch desperately holds power over what’s left of my corporeal form, but beside that, I’m rather gone. And I don’t see any viable way to defeat Haggar from here. So…” he said, turning to Allura, “this is where we part ways.”

  “No,” she groaned defiantly, grabbing his hand. “You’re not leaving.” There was a sense of possessiveness in her gesture, but also terrible dread, as if someone was ripping a piece of her heart away.

  Lotor hesitated. “But, Allura…”

  “I can fix this,” she pleaded, desperation cracking in her voice. “Please.” 

  His narrow eyes probed deep into her cerulean gaze. The same eyes that had glacially rejected him on that fateful day. Calling him ‘more like Zarkon than she could have ever imagined.’ 

  Yet here he was now, right next to his father. He didn’t even have time to properly process his own feelings towards this new—and truthful—version of Zarkon. 

 “I… I can do it—I can heal you—I’ve done this before,” Allura babbled desperately. “I beg you, come back to me.”

  Zarkon’s voice boomed over the gathering, as the bright light of eternal consciousness crept closer to them. “My son, Galra blood still runs in your veins. Choose victory, not death.”

  Zarkon let out a strange gasp—a sensation long buried inside his Galran heart emerging as Lotor suddenly leapt into his arms. “It’s not fair!” Lotor bawled, in a singular moment of unleashed emotion. So many things he wished he’d said! He didn’t even get a chance to thank him for his help during this treacherous adventure.  

  “It’s not fair, I know,” Zarkon whispered, his large palm caressing his son’s white tresses. “But this is all we have. Now go—save the universe.”

  The searing luminescence widely opened its gates, and before Lotor could fall into its pull, he relinquished his father’s grasp, latching on to Allura’s firm handhold. 

  One by one, Alteans, Galrans, Olkarians, Nalquodians and every citizen from the myriads of other nations dissolved into the Connected Consciousness. Faint goodbye whispers lingered across the air, fading like echoes of starlight. Zarkon, Alfor, Trigel, Gyrgan, Blaytz, Melenor - all melted away into eternity. 

  Only two people remained—hand in hand as the universe held its breath. 

Chapter Text

  Lotor sat cross-legged on the purple ground of Sincline’s infinite memory space. An air of melancholy effused around him, a violet cloud shrouding his form. 

 “Are you alright?” she felt like asking—the same words she’d uttered a few deca-phoebs ago, after the bloody duel between Lotor and his father. Genuine concern brooded atop her brow as she gazed down at him. But the question felt redundant. He wasn’t alright; she could tell. What words of encouragement could she possibly offer? 

  “What you did was for the greater good…” Ah, she couldn’t possibly say that. It felt so hollow, so contrived. She’d begged him to stay, yet she couldn’t even guarantee that her plan would work, could she?

  “Why did you want to leave this world?” she asked, surprising herself with her own audacity. 

  He looked up at her, narrowing his eyes, as if trying to read more into her inquiry. “Like I said,” he muttered, gesturing vaguely, “my body is beyond repair. I couldn’t possibly foresee another choice.”

  She sat in front of him, mirroring his pose. “Are you sure?” she pressed, intuition guiding her words. 

  “What do you mean?” he blinked nervously.

  “It felt…” She sighed. “It felt as if you wanted to let me go.”

  A pause lingered between them, heavy and unyielding. Eventually, his silver eyebrows lifted slightly, but a certain vexed intimation flashed in his golden eyes. 

  She looked away, unable to hold out against the burn in his stare. It stung deep inside her, and she knew exactly where he aimed. 

  “It may sound selfish, but I cannot do this without you,” Allura said with a quivering voice, as she stared at the lilac ground. Hot tears bubbled behind her eyelids.

  “Fair enough,” he replied smoothly, though a hint of something raw edged his tone. He’d once  voiced a similar plea when harnessing her magical powers for his grand plans. Perhaps it was fitting that she now sought her reprisal in kind. 

  “No, not like that,” she muttered, returning her watery eyes to him. “It’s not about your alchemic skills.” 

  A faint, hopeful smile tugged at one corner of his lips. “What is it about, then?” he asked softly. 

  “You and I…” Her breath hitched as she sniffled. “You and I…” She struggled to reach the next words, her voice trembling, “…we were meant to be together.”

  She awaited his response like scorched land awaiting rain. His expression remained still, save for the smoldering flame deep in his gaze.

  “You truly feel that way?” he asked, attempting to mask the surprise and delight. The corners of his eyes crinkled slightly.

  “Ever since… you and I clashed in battle, I haven’t been myself,” she admitted, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “I’m not myself without you.”

  His large palm enveloped her quivering hand, gently caressing it. He wanted to ask that question. It burned on his tongue, but she was too vulnerable, too raw in this moment. 

  “Ask away,” Allura mumbled through sniffles, reading his mind. It was an inevitable question; she couldn’t hide from it anymore. 

  “What about…” he began, biting his lip. The Paladin’s name, sharp like its literal meaning, stung in his mouth just by attempting to articulate it. 

  “You were right about him,” she confessed, her voice faltering. “Lance was a rebound, and I was weak. Weak. Too weak to stop him from encroaching on my personal space. I am weak without you, Lotor. I really am.” She leaned forward, despondently. 

  “No, Allura. You’re the most powerful woman in the universe,” he said, his voice firm as his hands caught her shoulders, and they found each other within a breath’s distance. 

  “Am I?” she chuckled dryly. “Even the most powerful woman needs an equally strong partner,” she said, slowly wrapping an arm around his neck. 

   “Um…,” he stammered, clearing his throat as emotion fractured his voice, “I feel honored.” A fang peeked behind his sheepish smile. “But, forgive me for asking…” He pulled her closer. “I couldn’t help but notice the past tense: the human… was… a rebound?”

  “I’ve made my choice,” she said, her arm coiling slightly tighter around his neck. His lips parted, releasing a tense breath he’d been holding. 

  “He will help me rescue you. That is all I shall ask of him,” she then added with finality.

  Lotor’s expression froze for a few perplexed ticks. She couldn’t possibly mean that, could she? 

  His eyes narrowed into thin blades. “Will he understand?” 

  He didn’t think he’d be concerned with the emotional response of his male rival, yet the state of affairs made Lotor feel uneasy. In a typical Galra environment, this would have been solved in a fight to the death between the two contenders. But he was in no capacity to conduct such a duel. Besides, he had no interest in taking down a pilot of Voltron. 

  Would the man agree out of nobility, or seek revenge later? Would he crumble into human misery after being rejected?  

  “I am not asking for his understanding. I am asking for your understanding,” she said, resolve glinting in her gaze. 

  “You wholeheartedly have it… my love,” he whispered, watching her blush at the sound of that word. “But only if you grant me your royal pardon as well.”

  “Pardon?” she asked, puzzled. “I believe your intricate matters have been thoroughly accounted for by Petrulius’ presentation.”

  “Yet you forget my vile response after you compared me with a certain emperor,” he said, his voice low and raw, as he laid the dangerous truth out. “I truly wanted to kill you, make no mistake.”

  “Pardon granted,” Allura replied with unblinking resolve. “And, just so there are no secrets, the feeling was mutual.” She tugged lightly at a strand of his silver hair. “The rift quintessence is a dangerous element, and we both fell prey to its potency.”

  “I vow to never keep secrets from you again,” Lotor said with a solemn tone.

  She chuckled, as her cheeks burned a deep crimson. “Even if you tried, you couldn’t. The entity connects us now.”

  “True,” he said with a boyish grin, before adopting a courtly air. “Allura, in the spirit of truth, I must openly declare my feelings for you…” he said, his tone catching a higher tenor. His eyes glowed with the passion of a thousand stars. “I—”

  His words vanished under Allura’s lips. There were no more secrets—only the truth of their love, and a bright luminescence that gently enveloped their forms, spreading across the vast plane of Sincline’s consciousness. 

 The doors to the pyramid’s navigation chamber hissed open. Three Alteans stood dutifully at their pilot consoles, focusing on operating their current wormhole journey. 

 Honerva stepped in. Her face looked stern, but her heart still fluttered after a cruel awakening. The gasp of air that had reconnected her with reality had left her lungs burning. 

 Her son, her own son… No, that could not be him. That despicable princess—she was the bad influence! Alas… Alfor’s daughter was also her only hope.

  “Exit at coordinates β-4-x-7,” said Honerva, as Merla turned to greet her. “The Paladins are aware of our plans.”

  “Is that a problem?” Merla asked.

  “No. It’s an advantage.”

  “Allura, I don’t know if you can hear me, but… we need your help. Please, we need you. This universe needs you. Every reality needs you. And most of all, I need you. I can’t imagine this world without you. Come back to me,” Lance murmured, gently squeezing Allura’s hand. 

  She looked just like the Sleeping Beauty from the fairy tale he’d clung to as a child. And hadn’t destiny practically delivered her into his arms that day she emerged from her castle’s cryo-pod? Ten thousand years asleep, and she landed right there, on him. Well, if that wasn’t fate, then what was? 

  But fate felt fickle now, slipping through his fingers like sand. Why wasn’t she waking up? Why did it feel like she was somewhere else entirely?

  “Lance…” she murmured, eyes half-lidded. Her lips felt dry like Altea’s Kwalqoz desert—a painful departure from the softness of Lotor’s kiss, mere moments ago. 

  She was yet to fully inhabit her own body, but her senses slowly began to trickle back. Her throat burned, her whole body ached. Recent memories of her discussions with Lotor still lingered in her half-asleep brain. 

  Lance jolted upright, his face alight with childlike joy. “Allura!” 

  “There is a place beyond the Evershadow station, hidden deep within the crust of the moon,” Lotor’s voice echoed in her foggy mind. “I believe the witch has yet to discover it. You’ll find a handful of Altean survivors there. I personally placed them in stasis pods last time I visited. They are the last keepers of our history, in case everything else failed.”

  “We will bring them back,” she said, her voice faint, but steady with determination. 

  A throbbing headache ringed around her forehead. 

  “Allura, how are you feeling?” Lance leaned over her jovially. Boy, did she look tired, but she was still, so, so beautiful! And he was inches away from her lips. His very own Sleeping Beauty—soon in his arms again. 

  Words failed her mouth, as her mind still reached across the ether for that safe and warm space at Lotor’s chest.  

  “Oh, Allura, how I missed you…” Lance narrowed the gap between their lips.

  “Um…” she groaned, her hazy eyes reading his intent. She summoned all her strength and turned her head away. 

  “Allura, the uncharted regions of the Quantum Abyss are dangerous. I’ll give you the exact trajectory of our cruisers, so you can safely navigate,” Lotor’s voice rang faintly in her ear.

  “No need,” she murmured aloud, her voice distant. “We already have the moon’s coordinates, from Keith. We will wormhole someone there. Meanwhile, the rest of us will come to your rescue.”

  “Allura?” Lance said, unease creeping into his voice as he pulled back. “Are you… are you sure you’re okay?”

   “Ah, wormholes,” Lotor chuckled. “How I wanted to get my hands on one of those teludav lenses, so we could shorten our trips through the Quantum Abyss… Alas, your talented team outsmarted my generals.”

  “You mean, my clueless team…” Allura jested, rolling her eyes. 

  “What’s wrong, Allura?” Lance said, looming above her again. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a big red flag snapped violently in the wind of his own illusions, but he chose to ignore it. 

  “Ugh…” she propped herself on her elbows. The room was spinning. 

  “Soon, they won’t be clueless anymore,” Lotor said, a content smile exposing his fangs. 

  She took a deep, steadying breath. The room stopped twirling. 

  “Should I bring you some water?” Lance rushed to ask. “Should I call—”

  “Lance,” she said firmly, her voice cutting through his concerned rambling. “We must rescue Lotor.”

  Her words fell into the room like stones into still water, sending ripples across Lance’s face. His smile faltered, froze, then slowly faded. 

  “What…?” he croaked, the single word carrying the weight of a collapsing world. The red flag had moved to a higher ground, looming large over the giant hill of his adolescent fantasy. 

  Allura’s gaze was steady, as she sat up fully, one hand resting on his shoulder. “And you, my trusted friend, shall help me.” 

  Reality swiftly pulled the ginormous rug of infatuation out from under his feet. 

  Her tempered-steel determination shone as brightly as the stars outside. She leaned hard on his shoulder as she rose from the bed. “Let’s go.”

  “Allura! It’s great to have you back!” Shiro exclaimed, a thrilled expression across his face as the doors to Atlas’s main deck hissed open. “How are you feeling?”

  “A little weak, but I’ll manage,” she replied with a resolute tone, her stern mien obvious against Lance’s overly protective gesture of holding her shoulders, as if she couldn’t stand on her own. 

  “Allura!” Coran rose from his Atlas chair. His face lit up, eyes welling with tears. “You’re okay! Oh, thank the ancients!” He wiped away the happy drops from his cheeks. 

  The princess smiled, a flicker of impishness dancing in her gaze—a reflection of Lotor’s own mischievous smile. Their bond transcended galaxies.

 “I am,” she said softly.

  “I hate to throw all this on you at once, but we don’t have much time,” Keith said with urgency. “We’ve been tracking Honerva’s and her robeasts’ movements but we can’t reach them without you at the teludav.”

  “We’ll wormhole there soon,” she replied, then turned to Shiro. “Please contact the closest Coalition team available.”

  “What for…?” Shiro asked, intrigue crossing his expression. 

  “For a critical mission into uncharted regions,” she replied, her unwavering voice leaving no room for debate.

  “You mean… the Quantum Abyss?” Keith raised an eyebrow. “There’s no time! And we’ve talked about this, Allura. There’s no point—”

  “There is a point. And it is a very important one, Keith,” Allura cut in vehemently, “and I will not take ‘no’ for an answer this time.” 

  They’d pushed her around for too long. It was time she took back control. 

  “You’d better do what the boss-lady says,” Lance said with an uncharacteristic gravity, pointing his forefingers at Allura. 

  “Matt responded first,” Veronica announced as her hailing signal locked on to a nearby Coalition ship. 

  “Good. Patch him through,” Allura said with quiet authority, as everyone in the room gaped at her in disbelief.

  “Hey Atlas, what’s up?” Matt’s face popped on the big screen.

  “Five magical Alteans await in stasis pods, under the Evershadow of the Colony moon,” said Allura swiftly. “I am sending you the coordinates and instructions to enter the underground facility, along with the passage codes.” Her fingers danced across a console. “Let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll wormhole you there. You’ll have two vargas to get in and out. I’ll charge the teludav to auto-extract you then.”

  “Got it. I’m ready when you’re ready,” Matt said, quickly scanning the incoming data. 

  Allura stepped over to the teludav console. Three little wormholes opened up, and Matt’s ship, along with a couple of other rebel shuttles darted through, vanishing into the unknown.

  “‘Evershadow’? ‘Passage codes’?” Keith’ voice rasped as the wormhole closed. “Who gave you this information?”

  “Lotor,” she said calmly, releasing the teludav’s controls. 

  Shocked silence stilled the command room, as Allura and Keith exchanged pugnacious looks. 

  Pidge finally broke the quiet. “Lotor is dead. We all saw his… ugh, corpse.”

  Funereal silence buried the atmosphere once more. 

  “He’s not,” Allura said emphatically, her sharp tone cutting into the reticent air. Keith’s eyes widened. There was much more to her words than she let on.  

  “And we’re going to help her get him back,” Lance added, frankness crossing his features. “Fortunately, he’s in the same location where we’re going. Un…fortunately, we’re gonna have to put up a big fight against Honerva. But we’re the Paladins of Voltron, right?” He chuckled nervously, hands resting on his hips. Alas, the rest of the room didn’t share his enthusiasm. 

  Pidge rubbed the nape of her neck. “Get him back? Sorry to break your bubble, guys, but even if he’s somehow alive, the man is in a terrible state of… I guess… robeastly decay?”

  “Yeah, but you know what?” Lance yapped, as he strode over to Pidge and leaned in nose-to-nose. “If Allura can revive the entire Josone park in my hometown Varadero, I bet my bayard she can handle this. She’s done it before—with you, Shiro, hasn’t she?” 

  “That’s true,” Shiro acknowledged, sending a long, respectful glance towards Allura. He was the captain of Atlas, and Keith was the head of Voltron, but Allura was truly their magical sovereign. 

  “Well, if y’all love her like I do, then she deserves better from all of us. We’re going to save Lotor,” said Lance, a strong sense of purpose crossing his countenance. 

  Pidge’s big brown eyes scanned Lance up and down. What was up with him? The same guy that hated Lotor’s guts, who boiled with jealousy around the castle’s corners, who daydreamed about Allura while still flirting with every available alien girl, was now ready to happily jump into his Lion to save their archenemy—Lotor?

  “Right?” Lance waggled his eyebrows at Pidge, while resting his ungodly long arm around her tiny shoulders. 

  Pidge stood there, perplexed. She, too, loved Allura—very much. She’d given up her favorite game so that Allura could buy a dress for her date with Lance. At the Clear Day fair, she’d stopped short of groveling at her mom’s feet—something she’d never, ever do!—to get more coin credits for a sparkly gift for Allura, knowing that the princess was not feeling well and needed to rest, while their team was shamelessly having fun.

  But now Lance pleaded for Lotor’s rescue? 

  And—most importantly—why was Lotor suddenly not their enemy anymore? 

  But she trusted Allura. As much as they all disagreed with her on many occasions, Pidge had to admit that Allura’s intuitions were magically right, every time. 

  “Then we’d better hurry,” Shiro said loudly, reading the room. “Attention, crew. Ready the Atlas for wormhole jump. MFE squadron, prepare for launch on my command. This is not a drill.”

  Allura closed her eyes, her hands resting on the teludav prongs. “Thank you, all,” she whispered, then channeled her energy into opening a wormhole, destination β-4-x-7. 

  “This way,” Allura gestured, and Lance followed her, his sonar gun ready at every step. The corridors of the Oriande pyramid looked sordid, a sense of doom perfusing the once-glowing walls of its magical chambers. Everything inside this indestructible edifice now appeared mundane. The ancient runes carved across the walls, chronicling eons of alchemic discovery, bore the desolate look of faded graffiti.

  Reaching the pyramid had been straightforward, all thanks to Kosmo’s teleportation skills. Behind Lance, the wolf wagged his tail in a mix of apprehension and excitement—a mission without Keith. 

  Around the pyramid, several Komar mechas hovered protectively, facing the massive cruiser profiling in the cosmic distance—Atlas. 

  Aboard their Lions, three Paladins awaited anxiously, ready to jump in action at any time.  

  The narrow corridor eventually opened into a grand hallway, where ten massive empty thrones loomed in silence—five on each side. 

  “The statues of the Holy Sages are gone,” Allura rasped, her voice sharp with fury at Honerva’s desecration.

  “Who were the Holy Sages?” Lance asked, scanning the shadows with his sonar gun, his stance rigid with vigilance. This place looked like the perfect ambush point. He quickly checked his weapon’s settings—stun mode engaged. Killing Allura’s Alteans, regardless of their allegiance, was not on his agenda. 

  “The Great Sages were the founding fathers of Altean alchemy. And she’s destroyed them all,” Allura said darkly.

  “I bet she melted the statues to build those Komar monstrosities. They’re unnaturally powerful,” Lance said, remembering their grueling battle to save Earth from one of those abject beasts. 

  “I’m absolutely sure that’s what she did,” Allura replied, her frown etched with disgust. 

  “It’s too quiet,” Lance muttered, as they stepped into an even larger chamber. His voice echoed about the vast emptiness. “It feels like… a trap. Like they’re waiting for us.”

  “I’m glad you figured it out, Paladin,” Honerva’s dark voice sliced through the ominous air. 

  “Argh!” Lance screamed. His gun fired rapid shots, and in that fleeting moment he wished they weren’t just stun beams. Alas, the witch disappeared as fast as the staccato bark of his bayard gun. “Where did she go?” Lance screeched, his eyes probing every shadowed corner. Kosmo growled, his sharp gaze scanning the semi-dark expanse. 

  “Look out!” Allura shouted, pulling out her bayard, which morphed into a laser whip. Two Alteans materialized behind Lance, but her weapon struck them down, in time for Lance to turn around and stun them. 

  A heartbeat later, the ceiling rained Alteans, leaping from various heights with coordinated precision. Lance moved with methodical aim: one blink—one shot. His training kicked in effortlessly. Gone was the anxiety that once plagued him in the heat of battle. This was his moment—but it wasn’t about impressing the girl anymore - it was about purpose. About clearing the path for Allura. For too long, he’d stood in her path of growth—heck, in his own path of growth! 

  “Impressive, young human,” Honerva’s voice chuckled ominously about the chamber, as Lance cleared one side of the room, while Allura and Kosmo managed the other side. “…But your skills have reached their limit.” 

  Honerva’s dark silhouette profiled against the penumbra of a massive mecha structure. Allura quickly assessed the scene. Sincline stood like a silent titan within the pyramid chamber. 

  “Protect our goddess!” a female Altean shrieked as she leaped from Sincline’s shoulder, wielding a spear. On cue, Lance fired. The woman’s body crumpled mid-air, then rolled over across the floor until knocking into several other stunned Alteans. Her spear landed nearby with a metallic clang.

  “Show your face, Honerva! It’s over!” Lance yelled, fire in his voice. 

  “It’s over for you, weakling,” the priestess said, malice dripping from her contralto voice, as she emerged from the shadow. A tsunami of dark energies hurled in their direction. The princess charged back with all her might, but her energy dwindled as several Alteans joined Honerva’s dark spells.   

  In a blur of motion, Kosmo vanished, his survival instincts overriding his loyalty as he failed to pull them out of the alchemic skirmish. Allura and Lance thudded against the back wall, while Honerva and her acolytes strode in their direction. Their eyes glowed an eery light, sure to send shivers down Lance’s spine. He instinctively felt for his bayard—alas, the weapon landed out of his reach. 

  “Ngh…” Allura groaned, staggering to her feet. It was time to shine her Oriande techniques, and cast the evil out of Honerva’s entities once and for all. 

  “You’re too late,” Honerva sneered, reading her intentions. A torrent of darkness lashed out, seizing Lance. He released a guttural yell, then his body dropped limp. Honerva’s dark cloud easily yanked him up in the air.

  “Lance!” Allura screamed as two Altean women took over Honerva’s task, holding the Paladin hostage inside the swirling black mass. 

  “You will pay dearly for this!” Allura’s voice trembled, as she summoned all her alchemic strength, but Honerva’s countenance didn’t flinch. 

  “Oh, stray princess of Altea, you are so predictable,” Honerva said with cruel amusement. “You thought I didn’t know you’d come for my son? Your weakness is my advantage.”

  Allura’s fists clenched. “Oh, I knew exactly what I was getting into. Let Lance go and I will spare your life.” Searing suns bloomed at the root of her palms, poised to discharge.

  “Oh, that’s not how it works, princess. You touch even one strand of my hair, and Lance goes.” Honerva smirked, watching Allura’s visage twist in horror. “You see… your misguided affection for these weak humans has brought you nothing but shame. But in my show of mercy, I shall spare him…” She paused, her gaze drilling into Allura’s eyes. “…if you bring me back my son.”

  Allura squeezed her fingers tight, quashing the alchemic bloom inside her palms. Her eyes narrowed against Honerva’s wily expression. “I knew it would come to this,” she said firmly. “I’m the only one in this universe with the knowledge of Oriande. Sooner or later, you would have asked for my help. But you could have at least asked nicely,” she added darkly.

  “After what you’ve done to my son?” Honerva hissed. “I sacrificed more than you could ever know to bring him back from the rift—where you buried him.”

  Allura’s eyes fixed her brazenly, a tinge of disgust in the corners of her mouth. “You unjustly sacrificed millions of lives. So let’s stop this madness here and now.”

  A discoid platform slowly emerged from the ground—the elevator to Sincline’s upper cockpit. Honerva gestured with authority, ordering Allura to step onto it. 

  But the princess ignored her motion, redirecting her steps toward Sincline. 

  “What are you doing?” Honerva croaked, her dark ire ready to ignite.

  “If you hadn’t destroyed Oriande, you’d know what I’m about to do,” Allura said with a composed voice. She took a deep, steadying breath, then placed her palms flush with Sincline’s comet-ore hull. The machine thrummed, recognizing her alchemy. Lights blazed to full power inside the robot. Honerva gasped, her face crinkling in paranoid panic. 

  Periwinkle slivers of light snaked across the machine, trickling toward Allura’s palms. Behind them, the stunned Alteans began to stir and awaken.

  When the ethereal light finally vanished into Allura’s frame, the princess turned around, her angelic expression glowing. As the she stepped on the elevator platform, an otherworldly brilliance effused from her eyes. 

  Honerva looked away, unable to meet the searing truth blazing from Allura’s gaze. Honerva—the master scientist who had burned the universe for her ambitions—could not perform such advanced magic, even to save her own son.

  The elevator ascended slowly, carrying them toward the doomed cockpit.

  Honerva broke the awkward silence, her voice trembling with an inkling of vulnerability. “I know you judge me harshly, but the love I carry for my son—”

  “Don’t talk to me about love,” Allura snapped. “For ten thousand years, you never loved anyone. Whatever this is, it’s a twisted perversion—a disease of possessiveness.” 

  “You were never with child, young princess, so spare me your high morals. Parents would do anything for their children. Alfor sacrificed a planet, but he saved you. I knew Alfor well—”   

  “This conversation ends now,” Allura interrupted coldly. Sincline’s upper hatch hissed open. She stepped off the platform, as they reached their destination. 

  Allura took a short moment to center herself before glancing inside. This was it. It was happening. Lotor was inside her heart, inside her mind, but he was also there—on that chair.

  Honerva strode to Lotor’s seat, swiveling it around with a brisk gesture. “Here’s what your ‘true love’ did to my son!” she barked sarcastically. 

  Allura had braced herself, but reality struck her with the gravity of a thousand dying stars. She closed her eyes, searching inward for that center of peaceful stillness. He was there too, eagerly awaiting, full of hope, joy and love.

  “Don’t look away, chosen one. Your ‘righteous’ ways ruined him! Face your own sins, daughter of Alfor!” Honerva rasped, fury twitching across her expression.

  Allura reopened her eyes, unrestrained tears spilling out. Despite her disdain for Honerva, she couldn’t but admit the dreadful truth. She’d done this to Lotor—she’d left him in the rift, alongside monsters beyond realities, eternally lonely and unloved!

  “Cry me rivers, silly girl,” Honerva shot back without mercy. “Now bring him back to me, and I will spare the human.” 

  “Nothing ever truly goes extinct.” That was the universe’s truth, in five words. She already knew it, but Lotor gently reminded her, and his chuckle inside her chest tingled her senses. Through the tears still running freely across her pink cheek marks, she smiled. In a few careful steps, she reached him. 

  Honerva watched her, irked about that insufferable smile hanging across her face.

  She slightly bent over his still form, her fingertips brushing his temples. His eyes were closed, sunken inside his skull. His Altean marks, like two battle scars dragging across his gaunt cheeks, glowed eerily. She could feel Honerva’s nervous breath on the other side of the seat. 

  “Please, give us some space.” Allura raised her eyes at the impatient mother. When Honerva didn’t move, she pulled her hands away from Lotor’s temples, firmly insisting. “Your darkness hinders the process.” 

  With a roll of her eyes, Honerva reluctantly retreated to a corner of the cockpit, arms tightly folded across her chest. 

  Allura returned her attention to Lotor’s rawboned visage. Treacly remnants of his purple skin clung to her finger pads, and she grunted with a disturbed expression. 

  “Think of me as a giant ball of clay,” Lotor giggled once more, playfully teasing. “Sculpt me, Allura. I give you full permission.”

  “Oh, shush,” Allura chastised. “Let me focus, or you might come out faulty.”

  “What’s there to laugh about?” Honerva snapped, noticing Allura’s amusedly distracted expression.

  “Will you both allow me to finish this?” Allura yapped, exasperated. 

  Honerva’s eyes widened in an awkward curiosity. Both? But before she could process it, blinding light engulfed the cockpit.

  Allura smiled again, her unbridled tears of longing dripping all over his face, like raindrops on parched earth. Lotor opened a pair of ghastly eyes, effusing corrupted quintessence. She maintained her hold, allowing it all to escape—the wrath, the dark entities, the angst and tension buried deep inside him for millennia. The light outflowing from her frame chased the darkness away, inch by inch, and Honerva watched in awe as his body metamorphosed, like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis. 

  “My son…” Honerva murmured, hope blooming in her eyes. 

  Allura finally caught her breath, as the light around him receded. 

  A moment of eager expectation lingered between them, until a loud gasp vigorously erupted from his lungs. “Allura!” His golden sclerae gave way to two cobalt irises. 

  “Welcome back,” Allura whispered, gently brushing a few silver strands from his beautiful portrait. His hands rose to cup her cheeks, his thumbs gently stroking her tear-stained skin.

  “It’s good to see you again, Princess,” he said with a playful baritone voice. The glimmer in his eyes looked eager for an imminent kiss. 

  Allura’s azure gaze sparkled with an equally passionate desire. She leaned closer, her eyelids draping shut.  

  “Lotor,” Honerva’s voice vibrated across the cockpit. He winced, realizing they were not alone. “Cover yourself with this,” she offered a purple cloak.

  His expression shifted several times from the horror of seeing the witch handing him that cursed garment to the realization of his natural state of resurrection. He lifted one arm up, and pieces of his former suit peeled off his skin like molting scales off a snake. 

  He recoiled. “I would rather walk into the world in utter bareness than clad myself in your dark spells.” Honerva stepped back, visibly affronted. 

  “I… have a suit for you,” Allura intervened gingerly. She took off her jet-pack, which also served as a mini-backpack. As she rummaged through her bag with her back against Honerva, she silently mouthed, “Lance”, her eyes flicking toward Honerva.

   His eyes narrowed marginally, signaling his acknowledgement. Confronting Honerva at this critical moment was not advisable. 

  “This was Shiro’s, but he’s not using it, so—here,” she said, and handed him the Black Paladin armor.

  “Actually, this suit originally belonged to Zarkon,” Honerva noted dryly. 

  “I am well aware, and I shall proudly wear it,” Lotor responded a bit too haughtily, taking Honerva by surprise. The thought of having to work with the witch, however brief that would be, abhorred him. 

  “That monster destroyed our family,” his mother shot back. 

  “You’re the monster,” he felt like replying, but he bit his tongue, for the sake of the vitally needed civility. “That monster still loves you,” he said instead—which was also true. 

  Honerva swallowed dryly, as tears, regrets and anger sparred in her eyes. 

  Both women looked away as he brushed off the scanty bits of his old armor and donned his new suit. When he finished, Honerva’s wild gaze measured him up and down, her eyes shining with raw, tangled emotion. This had been the Paladin armor of her husband. And now… now her son was wearing it. Her aged countenance betrayed her emotions too easily. Pain and love roiled in her pupils, floating in a sea of short temper. She hesitantly reached out for a hug. 

  “Our people are waiting,” he murmured with a pacifying mien as he tactfully evaded her gesture. “Let’s go greet them.”

  Their descent from Sincline was wordless, save for the triumphant cries of the Alteans below.

  “Lotor! Our Savior has returned!”

  “Emperor Lotor is back!” Honerva declared smugly as they stepped off the elevator platform.

  The group of Altean soldiers dropped down on one knee, bringing a fist to their chest in solemn devotion. Only two Alteans remained standing, as they handled a tall, dark cloud, beyond which Lotor discerned a human face. One of them, a young woman with violet eyes and a cherry-purple hair kept a steel expression, although Lotor noticed the slight tremble of her hands. The other one, a striking blonde with long braided tresses and blue eyes, averted her gaze.

  “Merla. Fala,” Lotor called out. The two women stirred, conflicted between maintaining their assignment and kneeling in front of their lord. 

  Honerva’s displeased expression betrayed suspicion.

  “Release your hold,” Lotor ordered, eyeing his two subjects with a cutting gaze. 

  “You will not leave your posts,” Honerva demanded with a stern tone. Turning to Lotor, she narrowed her eyes. “Whatever power you think you have over me, or these people, think again.”

  When Lotor didn’t respond, maintaining his sharp gaze on the two Altean women, Honerva pressed. “I am your mother. My pain and suffering will not be negated by your whims, or those of a stray wildflower,” she said, angrily pointing at Allura.

  Lotor wrinkled his nose in disgust. “And you expect me to ransom my ally with some kind of filial affection for you? Surely, you can see how twisted this is.”

  Sparks of dark ire flashed from Honerva’s claws. “Your ally?” she hissed. “He’s nothing but a pawn.”

  “He’s a Paladin of Voltron and I shall see to his safe release,” Lotor replied coldly.

  Honerva’s hands trembled, as wisps of darkness wafted around. “The princess betrayed your trust. She abandoned you to die an eternal death, and went on to live a trivial life with this… human ‘ally’,” she snarled, pointing her chin in Lance’s direction, with an unforgiving air. “She belongs with him, and you belong with your mother. Together, we will bring back the glory of Altea!”

  “Unbind him,” Lotor ignored Honerva once more, raising his voice at Fala and Merla. The two women trembled with indecision, knowing full well the consequences of crossing Honerva. 

  “Your dirty deal shows the true nature of who you are,” Allura said nervously, preparing to counter the witch’s alchemic attacks. “And everyone here can see it.” 

  “This is my only deal. Lotor stays with me if you want to see the human alive again,” Honerva replied with a glacial tone.  

  “You think I don’t see through your cheap schemes, witch?” Lotor retorted nonchalantly. “I’ve had ten thousand deca-phoebs to learn how you operate. You plan to kill him no matter what. Without one Paladin, Voltron will be out of your way.”

  Allura’s eyes widened in shock. Lotor was right.

  “Let go of this innocent man,” Lotor ordered his people again, asserting his authority.

  “I am your High Priestess, and you will obey me,” Honerva countered, her menacing eyes fixed on the two Alteans.

  “You may be the High Priestess Haggar, but I am the Emperor,” Lotor opened his palms upward. A soft lilac glow effused from them. 

  A general gasp traveled through the Altean crowd. Haggar?

  Merla’s violet eyes traveled from the alchemy steaming inside Lotor’s hands up to his golden gaze. Despite seeing him unleashed at Oriande, Lotor was their true leader; she could see that clearly now. They’d all been misguided by none other than witch Haggar—the infamous sorceress that every Altean had heard stories about. She couldn’t support this woman’s ruse any longer, but the fear of her wrath paralyzed her. She cast a fleeting glance at Fala from the corner of her eye. Their Savior needed them. Mustering her courage, she squinted at her fellow officer. 

  “We are at your humble service, Emperor Lotor,” the two women dropped to their knees, and Lance stumbled forward, his lanky arms flailing as he regained his balance. 

  “Whew, took you girls a while!” Lance barked at Merla and Fala. He had been hearing everything. Phew, that was painful!

  Honerva roared, dark spheres of rage quickly growing in her palms. “Ungrateful child! I sacrificed more than you will ever know to bring you back. I forgave what you did inside my consciousness and gave you a second chance. And this is how you repay me? By stripping my authority in front of our people? I am your mother!”

  “You. Are. Not. My. Mother,” Lotor growled in a low, threatening voice. 

  “I carried you in my womb. You exist because of my sacrifice!” she shrieked, readying her ominous spell.

 “My true mother was a pure and wise woman who didn’t fester in dark magic. Relinquish this menace and only then—maybe—I shall consider calling you my kin,” Lotor said, towering over her. He summoned his quintessence, displaying the power for her to see. 

  Unleashed ire disfigured Honerva’s face, as dark lightning erupted from her palms, striking in all directions. All the Alteans froze, their expressions blank as their eyes began to glow. 

  “No!” Lotor yelled, realizing that Honerva had seized control of their minds again. 

  “You’ve just doomed this entire reality. If my true son doesn’t recognize me as his mother, than I shall find a new Lotor! A new husband! A new world order!” her dour voice echoed about the room as she flashed away, her crackling darkness encroaching on the chamber. 

  “We gotta get out of here!” Lance screamed, as the mind-controlled Alteans marched towards them. He fired at will, attempting to stall them, but the stun shots seemed to have lost their effect. 

  “We have to save them!” Allura said, calling forth her alchemy. 

  “No, Lance is right, we need to leave now,” Lotor said, his heart heavy as he watched his people controlled like puppets. 

  Kosmo flashed out of nowhere, catching Lance by surprise. In an instant, he found himself back on Atlas. Moments later, Allura and Lotor joined him.

  “No, our people!” Allura groaned loudly. 

  “We’ll see to their return, Allura,” Lotor said with a pained gaze.

  “Is everyone aboard?” Shiro asked. 

  “We’re all here.” Lance breathed heavily, watching the sky gape into a wormhole. The pyramid and the guardian mechas quickly vanished through.

  “Let’s go after them!” Coran shouted, eager to chase the enemy.

  “No, we’re unprepared,” Lotor interjected. “Allura is depleted of quintessence after bringing me back. She needs to rest. We also need a significant source of energy for this ship to counter what the witch is about to do.”

  Holt raised a pair of critical eyes at the newcomer. “Atlas is properly equipped for battle.”  

  Lotor’s golden gaze narrowed. “Don’t forget the witch has my Sincline ship, so that triples the threat.”

  “He’s right,” Shiro nodded, regarding Commander Holt from his captain console. “Keith, you’re in charge of the tactical meeting. In the meantime, Atlas will continue to track Honerva’s movements.”

  Atlas’ conference room slowly emptied, after a long and arduous meeting. 

 The five colony Alteans brought back by Matt had stunned the official audience with the depth of their historical recounts. Many questions flew back and forth, and numerous apologies were offered on both sides. One Altean was noticeably absent from the meeting—Romelle. She’d made her reason abundantly clear as she denied the meeting invite. 

 By now, it was obvious to everyone that Honerva was intending to use Lotor’s mech to travel through realities, in search of a perfect version of her family. The realization that she could breach realities at any moment pressured everyone to think fast. Coran and Hunk decided to take a trip to a Balmera, to harvest a large enough crystal that would provide Atlas the extra power. In the meantime, Slav, Sam and Pidge would work on the prototype upgrade for Atlas’s weapon system, while Krolia would try to recruit Commander Lahn’s fleet to assist in battle. Time was of essence. 

  Seated next to Allura, Lotor waited for the room to clear. 

  Two more people were about to exit the main door—Pidge and Lance. 

  “Um…” Lance suddenly cleared his throat, and Pidge shot him a curious look. “I guess, uh, there’s one more thing we haven’t discussed. Uhm, yeah, ahem,” he stuttered, “it’s about, uh, how we—I mean me and you…” He aimed a finger at Lotor. “…how we should go about burying the hatchet. Un—unless you do want to throw down the gauntlet, or whatever you call it in Galran—which, I hope you don’t, but—but if you do, let’s… let’s talk about it?” He puffed out his chest in a manly pose, while Lotor’s silver eyebrows shot up, staring at the Paladin silently. 

  Pidge facepalmed. She wrestled between her mortified desire to fly out that door and her desperation to prevent Lance from committing an atrocious diplomatic faux-pas. Alas, the words had blurted out of Lance’s mouth too quickly, despite her pointy elbow nudging his ribs several times. 

  “Hatchet?” Lotor asked, an amused smile playing across his face.

  “It’s something about making peace,” Pidge cut in, stepping on Lance’s toes as he tried to open his mouth again. “We’re good. Ignore what he just said. We already made peace. Everything’s fine,” she said, pushing Lance toward the door. 

  Lotor rubbed his pointy chin, speaking with affectionate mirth. “If you’re referring to resolving disputes between two male suitors, there is only one way to settle it in the Galra tradition,” he said, his grin widening to expose his fangs. Next to him, Allura gasped. 

  Pidge’s face turned as green as her suit. Yes, she’d read a lot about the Galra civilization. No, not the klawak! Why… why, Lance?

  “Fortunately, my convictions never aligned with those of the Galra puritans,” Lotor continued. “I lean more on the side of merciful resolutions. What say you about a game of qumwa?” He folded his arms leisurely, his expression delighted. 

  Pidge released a long sigh of relief, as her skin slowly recovered its color. 

  “Wha—what’s that?” Lance dared to ask, feeling Pidge’s foot still pressing his toes, like a driver controlling the gas pedal.

  “It involves a lot of booze,” Pidge muttered.

  “Oh, cool. Cool-cool,” Lance stammered again. “But just so you know, I’m not twenty-one yet, so…”

  “It’s technically not alcohol,” Pidge explained. “It’s 5-hydroxy-3-pheno—”

  “Okay, okay, got it, got it Pidge,” Lance interrupted, waving his hands. “It’s Galra firewater for strong spirits.”

  “In artistic terms, yes,” Pidge nodded. “Think of it as Nunville on steroids.”

  “What?!” Lance shrieked. “Does it taste like feet, too?”

  With a wide grin, Pidge gave his shoulder a friendly pat. “I guess you’ll have to find out.”

  “Aight. We’re doin’ this,” he said, punching one palm with his opposite fist. “When and where? What are the rules?”

  “Zethrid will arbitrate,” Lotor replied, unfolding his arms. “She will provide all the information you need.”

  “Cool beans… Can’t wait!” he blurted, as Pidge unceremoniously pulled him out the door.

  The room was finally quiet, save for Allura’s soft giggle.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, turning to him coyly, “for finding such an amiable resolution.” 

  “My pleasure,” he replied, facing her with an open stance. “Besides, he took me by surprise. A pleasant surprise, that is.”

  “How so?”

  “In the end, he’s proven to have a noble heart. I did not expect him to come to my rescue out there.”

  “They’re all good people,” Allura murmured, referring to her friends. “Although I am a bit worried about the whole qumwa thing. Humans have always been light on drinks. Even milkshakes give them brain freeze,” she giggled. “And with the upcoming battle with Honerva, we need him awake.”

  “He’ll be fine. Besides, you can resurrect him, if needed. I’ve seen you do it,” he grinned.

  “Oh, you cruel emperor!” she playfully batted his arm.  

  “Relax, Allura. It’s part of his growth,” Lotor said, giving her a languid look. 

  “You seem to be part of everyone’s growth,” she responded amusedly. She bit her lip before finding her next words. “Ten thousand deca-phoebs is a lot of experience.”

  His sturdy palm wrapped around her delicate hand, bringing it to his chest. “Oh, Allura, I’m nowhere near reaching your enchanting powers.”

  When she only raised an inquisitive eyebrow, he leaned in, holding her cerulean gaze. “By what fey wizardry do you resurrect people, my almighty princess?” he asked, wrapping his other arm around her waist.

  “I’m just… winging it,” she chuckled, catching him unprepared. The distance between them slowly but surely narrowed.

  “I’d like to learn that technique,” he whispered, gently rubbing his nose against hers. “Does it involve wings? Flying?” he purred, his breath warm against her skin. 

  “A bit like flying, but with lots of love, too. I can give you… some lessons,” she murmured, licking her lip. Her eyelashes fluttered like butterflies. “It’s actually quite pleasant. You’ll like it.”

  His gaze plunged into the depths of her amethyst pupils, watching them dilate as he dared to ask, “Does it perhaps resemble… making love?”

  A short exhale left her lungs. “We’ll have to discover if it befits the comparison...” 

  “I’d like that. Very much,” he sealed his words on her lips. A blinding light filled the chamber, taking offline all the surveillance cameras. 

  The universe trembled in joy, sending ripples of magic into the farthest corners of the galaxies.