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Chapter Text

THE TRAITOR'S CLAW

May 15, 20:21 UCT

“MOVE, FLESHLINGS!”

The rock creature’s voice was like a mountain crashing, his face a sheer pitiless cliff. His jagged shoulders scrapped the roof of the dim rusty corridor, raining sparks down on his captives as he herded them with a crackling stun-baton. He hardly needed it; the tiny baton was barely noticeable, clenched in his massive boulder of a fist.

The ‘herd’ consisted of about a dozen human teens, frightened and sobbing. Cold metallic shackles bit into their wrists and ankles, leaving them red and raw. None of them knew why they were here, why they were taken. The searing shock of the stun-baton was the only answer their questions ever received.

At the head of the shuffling column was a young girl with red hair and amber eyes. She looked no older than sixteen, her freckled expression strangely hard-set. The others' horror and despair washed over her like icy waves, threatening to overwhelm her mind.

By the redhead's side, shuffled a younger Asian-American girl, radiating terror. Her violet eyes teared up behind purple-rimmed glasses as she tried to repress the sobs clawing their way up her throat. Her arms were drawn tight and close against her chest, her only shield against this waking nightmare.

“Hey,” whispered the redhead softly. “What's your name?”

“Ami,” the first girl sniffed quietly as she could manage. “You?”

“I'm... Moira,” decided the redhead, leaning close. She lowered her voice even further. “Listen, Ami. I know things look kinda scary now but just keep close to me and everything will be alright. Okay?”

“What do you-”

“No talking!” The man-rock roared, waving his stun baton meaningfully.

The dim corridor finally opened into a vaulting command deck. It wasn’t much better lit than the corridor, with flickering consoles embedded in walls of bare grey plating. The bridge was dominated by a weirdly off-angle viewscreen that presented the waning dark side of Earth's moon.

Several alien creatures ambled about the bridge, no two seemingly of the same species. The gunner was clearly a water breather, head encased by a glass dome containing some murky slush, slender mecha-tendrils lining his back. The navigation helm was manned by an armoured humanoid whose ‘head’ was just a single giant eyeball.

At the very center of the bridge rose a dais crowned by a cross between a throne and a chaise lounge, lustrous gold and soft rich velvet contrasting absurdly with the ramshackle utilitarianism of the rest of the command deck. Upon it reclined a barrel-torsoed, purple-skinned toadish creature, clad in silver and crimson armour. A thickly coiled neural whip hung from his belt.

“Cap'n Flogg, sir.” The rock-creature saluted, bringing his shackled captives to a halt. “Cargo ready for inspection.”

“Very good, Mr. Calix.” Flogg popped a squirming arthropod into his wide toothy maw before chomping down with a wet crunch. He raised a scaled brow, leaning in to examine the 'cargo'. “Bit on the scrawny side, isn't they?”

“The Client wants ‘em young, sir,” rumbled Calix. “Easier to activate the Terran meta-gene, I’m told.”

“Well, who be I to argue with a paying customer?” Flogg chuckled throatily. “Stow the primates below and set course for Rimbor. That multi-armed freak 'ill pay fine coin for fresh Terran mea-”

“Excuse me.”

Flogg glared down at the source the interruption, the redhead with hard-set amber eyes. His yellow orbs went wide as flying saucers. “Moons of Mondor! IT TALKS!?!”

“Yes, she does,” replied Moira icily.

“Calix, you never said this species was sapient!?” Flogg gasped in shocked indignation, pounding his golden armrest with a clawed fist. “We should be charging DOUBLE!”

Moira’s eyes narrowed. “I take it you're in charge then?”

“In charge?” The reptilian space-pirate rose to his full height, dwarfing the diminutive Sol native. “Lass, ye stand in the presence o’ Flogg the Terrible! Devil o' Denebria, Plunderer o' Primus, Terror o' the Triax-”

“Noted.” Moira’s eyes flashed green. <Halo, Terra!>

BOOOOOM!!!

A thundering indigo vortex erupted in the middle on the alien bridge, like a hole punched in space-time. Before Flogg could react, a giant boulder came crashing out of the portal like a comet, smashing him and his ornate lounge throne into the far wall.

Two more humans emerged from the vortex: a hooded dark-skinned youth whose body glowed with the same indigo aura, and a short blond whiff of a girl clad in green, black and gold.

“Oh my God!? That's Terra! From the Outsiders!” Ami trilled. “The Outsiders are here to save us, everybody!”

Halo raised a glowing hand. “Technically, I'm not an Out-”

They were cut off by 'Eyeball' unleashing a blast of emerald energy upon the interlopers. Halo's aura instantly shifted from indigo to scarlet, summoning an energy shield to deflect the blast.

<Halo, can you Boom-Tube the captives out?>

Halo grimaced, their scarlet shield straining under 'Eyeball's' emerald assault. <Not yet!>

Flogg tossed the boulder aside with a groaning heave, only lightly dishevelled for being struck with half a ton of granite. He unclipped his neural whip, crimson energy crackling across its coils as he advanced on his 'cargo'.

Moira placed herself between the captives and the space pirate. “Ami, everyone, stay behind me!”

“Are you crazy?!” Ami practically screamed. “He'll kill you!”

“Better than him have tried,” spoke Moira dryly. Rosy-pink skin turned an ashy grey-white as her shape began to flow and reform, snapping her shackles. In a moment, the young redhead was replaced by a hulking four-armed semi-simian behemoth. The great white ape-thing bellowed like an entire brass section, facing down the reptilian slaver.

“A shapeshifter too?” Flogg clucked appraisingly. “I'm goin’ ta make the Client pay triple for you, lass!” He lashed out with his neural whip, coils twisting about one of the white ape's forearms before unleashing an excruciating surge of energy that wracked the behemoth's body.

<Terra… give us some breathing room!>

The Outsider nodded as Calix barrelled down on her like an oncoming avalanche; the entire bridge shook with the rock-man’s every step. Terra stood her ground, planted her feet firmly and thrust forward a single hand.

Calix immediately ground to a halt, pillar-like legs flailing helplessly as he floated above the deck. “Oh, this can't be good.”

Terra smirked. With a flick of her wrist, the geokinetic metahuman sent the rock-man flying into 'Eyeball'. Finally free of the optic onslaught, Halo's scarlet aura shifted back into indigo.

BOOOOOM!

Another Boom-Tube opened beneath the captives. Ami let out a sharp yelp as she and the other captives were swiftly spirited into the ether.

“MY BOOTY!!!” Flogg roared, rounding on the white ape-thing. “I'll take what I'm owed out of your filthy Terran hide!”

<I'm no Terran!> The great white ape growled low, turning transparent as the wind, melting into the deck plate like mist.

“Nordor's Teeth! Where'd she go!?” Flogg shrieked, stomping on the all too solid deck.

Behind him rose an ash-white, red-haired spectre in a hooded, midnight blue cloak. Her eyes burned with unearthly green light. At her gesture, the coils of Flogg's own whip snaked about him with python speed, sending the space pirate toppling like a top-heavy sack.

“By the Three Suns...” Flogg whispered in fearful awe, gaping at the pale vision that loomed over him. “What be ye?”

“Me? I'm just a school counsellor,” intoned Miss Martian coolly. “And I really don't like creeps who prey on kids.”

She telekinetically activated Flogg's neural whip, sending the reptilian into screaming paroxysms of agony as crackling energy coruscated through his body. He flapped on the deck plate like a drowning fish before the charge eventually died out, leaving the space pirate an insensate lump.

The slush-headed gunner crept quietly towards the exit, only to be cut off by a searing blast of yellow energy.

“And where do you think you're going?” asked Halo, suffused with a striking yellow aura.

“Um... nowhere?” 'Slush Head' burbled meekly, shrinking into a corner of the bridge.

“Bravo Squad to Watchtower,” spoke Miss Martian, tapping her earpiece. “Bridge secured. Status of the hostages?”

“Hostages have arrived safely in Taos,” came a static tinged reply. “Nicely done, Bravo. Tigress out.”

*

THE WATCHTOWER

May 16, 10:08 EDT

Recognized:

Miss Martian-B-Zero-Five,

Halo-B-Three-One,

Terra-D-One-One.

The swirling golden vortex of the Zeta-Tube whirred to life. It took a moment longer than normal; the newly installed bio-filters screened out any untoward microbes as the three young heroes stepped out of the warm light.

The Watchtower’s main foyer was light, airy and open, a stark contrast to the dismal confines of the alien slave-ship they had raided the day before. A vast panoramic window spread over two levels, framing the slowly rotating Earth.

Miss Martian understood why the Justice League (and by extension its covert ops Team of which she was a founding member) had chosen the satellite as their HQ. As its name suggested, the Watchtower was ideally placed to monitor the planet below and surrounding space for potential threats to humanity. But more than that, one look out the window was all it took to remind Earth’s heroes why they held their never ending vigil in the first place. The blue-green orb below seemed so delicate, so fragile, like a sleeping babe swaddled in a blanket of night.

Waiting to greet the newcomers in the satellite’s main foyer was an athletically built young woman with olive-toned skin, thick blond hair and steely dark-grey eyes. She wore a black and orange striped costume and a stylized tiger mask that did nothing to hide her small smirk.

“Morning, Team,” chirped Tigress. “Someone had a busy weekend.”

“Not as busy as those Denebrian slavers,” replied Miss Martian. “Any word on the rescued meta-teens?”

“Taos has already started contacting their families,” replied Tigress. “Good news is all of them made it back to Earth in one piece.”

“And the bad news?”

“Still no leads on Floggs' mystery 'Client'.” Tigress consulted her tablet. “But an Ami Winston did want to thank 'Moira'.”

“Aww, that's sweet,”' said Miss Martian. “But Halo and Terra deserve the real credit.”

“Look at you two,” Tigress beamed proudly at the younger heroes. “All grown up and kicking space pirate butt like a coupla rock stars!”

“Terra was the real rock star,” Halo giggled, nudging their friend affectionately. “Cuz of all the rocks!”

“Heh, good one, Vi,” Tigress chuckled awkwardly, turning to the short blond girl and smiling warmly. “Seriously though, Tara, thanks for helping the Team out these last couple of weeks. I know you must be itching to get back to the Outsiders.”

“Tas nekas.” Terra shrugged. “The Hub's been fairly quiet lately.”

“Why don't you and Vi head up to the conference room?” Tigress said. “GL's already getting set up.”

“Uh, sure,” answered Terra, swapping a questioning look with Halo as the two of them left Tigress and Miss Martian alone in the foyer.

“Is everything okay, Artemis?” Miss Martian used Tigress’ real name. She didn’t need Martian telepathy to tell her best friend didn’t want to talk official Team business.

“I was going to ask the same thing, M’gann,” replied Artemis. “You’ve been riding yourself pretty hard these last few months; volunteering for practically every mission, helping Dinah out with Sanctuary, not to mention your regular 9-to-5.”

“It’s summer break. I really appreciate the concern, but I can handle the extra workload.” M’gann had to stifle a chortle. For a moment, she was afraid this was something serious. But it was actually reassuringly sweet that Artemis was worried she was over exerting herself. It was part of what made Tigress the ideal leader for the League’s Team of young covert operatives.

“It’s not that,” said Artemis warily. “Well, not just that.”

M’gann’s lips pursed. Maybe this was serious after all. “Then what?”

Artemis took the plunge. “Is everything okay… with you and Conner, I mean?”

M’gann started fidgeting with her wedding ring. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“It’s just... after everything that happened last year, I thought we’d never be able to pry you two off each other again. But now, it’s almost like you’re… avoiding him?”

“What?! That’s ridiculous! Conner is perfect!” Too perfect, whispered a traitorous voice at the back of M’gann’s mind before she quickly smothered it. “Come on, we don’t want to keep GL waiting.”

*

As the lights dimmed, a holographic representation of the Milky Way Galaxy shimmered to life above the polished conference table, casting a ghostly blue-green glow on the gathered heroes. The holo-galaxy was superimposed by a three-dimensional wireframe, dividing it into three thousand and six hundred roughly equal segments. The image flickered before zooming in on one segment in particular, repeat with countless twinkling stars.

“Galactic Sector 2891, home to thousands of inhabited worlds,” spoke John Stewart, one of Earth's resident Green Lanterns “Most of which were, until recently, under the direct rule of a brutal fascist regime calling itself the Horde.”

“Recently?” Miss Martian asked.

“That's going the need some backstory,” Stewart explained. “Most of the Horde's military was made up of cloned and robotic troops connected by a technopathic hive-mind. Imagine an army of billions directed by a single brilliant yet sadistic intelligence...”

Constellations of holographic pixels swirled, reforming into the image of a looming alien figure clad in pristine white robes. His arms extended as though in benediction, four asymmetrical eyes set in a pale chiropteran visage, gleaming with cold contempt. His lips curled in a smile suggestive of sensuous cruelty.

“Horde Prime, self-proclaimed Emperor of the Known Universe and Leader of the Galactic Horde,” intoned Stewart, making no attempt to conceal his contempt. “Centuries ago, Prime seemingly came out of nowhere, annexing systems all across the outer sectors. Even now, we have no idea where he came from or how he managed to amass his army in secret. The few Horde clones we’d managed to take alive over the years claimed he came from somewhere beyond our galaxy. But then they also claimed he could control the movements of the stars, so take that with a fistful of salt.”

“More past tense, I notice?” Terra prodded.

Stewart nodded. “’Bout a year ago, Prime disappeared without a trace, taking the Horde Hive-Mind with him. Over the ensuing months, rebellions have sprung up on almost every known Horde-occupied world.”

“What about Prime's remaining forces?” asked Miss Martian.

“They let it all happen practically unopposed,” answered Stewart. “Without Prime’s guidance, what was left of the Horde simply lost the will to fight back.”

“And that's... good?” asked Halo uncertainty.

“Well, I’m not shedding any tears,” snorted Stewart. “If it weren't for Darkseid or the Reach, Horde Prime would probably have gone down as the most rapacious conqueror in modern galactic history. But anything capable of bringing down an interstellar empire practically overnight is something the Guardians wants tabs on.”

“Why wait so long then?” asked Terra.

“Short answer: space is big,” spoke Stewart. “Horde territory is pretty remote, it’s taken the better part of the year just for the news to filter out to the larger galaxy. Plus the Guardians are sticklers for protocol. A millennium old treaty prevents any representative of the Green Lantern Corps from even entering Sector 2891.”

“But we’re not members of the Corps,” spoke Terra knowingly.

Tigress smirked. “Exactly.”

Again, Miss Martian didn’t need telepathy to pick up Tigress’s meaning, a classic Team covert recon mission. The Guardians of Oa may be sticklers for the rules, but the cryptic founders of the Green Lantern Corps weren’t above letting others bend them on their behalf. “Doesn't the average galactic sector contain millions of star systems?”

“Tens of millions,” Stewart corrected.

Miss Martian sighed. Not for the first time, she privately questioned the wisdom of a few thousand strong peacekeeping force taking it upon themselves to police a galaxy of a hundred billion suns. It was all the League, the Team, the Outsiders and the JL Reserves could do just to safeguard Earth. “Where would we even start looking?”

“Well, we do have one lead...” Stewart offered. “A rogue planet on the very edge of Horde space that, according to Corps Intelligence, was Prime's last confirmed location.”

“How much do we know about this 'rogue planet'?” asked Miss Martian.

“Well, there's the rub.” Stewart stroked his chin thoughtfully. “According to the Corps' most up to date star-charts, this planet shouldn’t exist.”

That got an eyebrow raise from Miss Martian. “This mystery planet have a name?”

*

ETHERIA

May 16, 10:32 UCT

The morning moons were just beginning to reach their zenith, turning the dusky purple skies a rosy pink. Below them, the blue-green canopy of the Whispering Woods murmured dreamily, true to their name. Between forest and firmament, a giant floating tree drifted lazily across the sky, the youngest of the ancient world’s many satellites.

Adora leaned over her balcony at Castle Bright Moon, soaking in the view. She still couldn't believe how much Etheria had changed since she first came to Bright Moon, how much she had changed. She’d been nothing but a Horde deserter with a magic sword and a heavy conscience back then, uncertain yet determined to undo some of the damage her former masters had inflicted on Etheria for decades.

Barely a year had passed since Adora and her friends had saved the universe from Horde Prime, a year since Etheria had finally been freed from the Horde’s shadow. The months after Prime's defeat had hardly been any less eventful for Adora. She and the rest of the ‘Best Friends Squad’ had spent weeks on an 'interstellar road trip' traveling the newly returned stars, reintroducing magic to worlds where the Horde had all but stamped it out; as well as seeking relics of the First Ones, the ancient settlers of Etheria.

Adora had to admit, she'd been more invested in that last part than she'd let on at the time. But every lead, every artefact that might have revealed the fate of her lost people, had only led to one dead end after another. But she’d made peace with that. Wherever she may have been born, Etheria was home. It was where she'd grown up. It was where she'd met...

“Hey, Adora,” Catra yawned sleepily, wrapping her arms about her girlfriend's waist. The felinoid Etherian purred contentedly, nuzzling the back of Adora’s neck.

Catra was another thing Adora couldn’t believe had changed so much. Only two short years ago, it seemed like the ex-Horde Force Captain was trying to kill her on a weekly basis; now Adora couldn’t imagine living without her.

“Finally, it's almost high moon,” Adora giggled, leaning back to peck Catra’s fuzzy cheek. “You never used to sleep this much back in the Fright Zone.”

“I was never allowed sleep this much back in the Fright Zone.” Catra teasingly nipped the nape of Adora’s neck. “Is this what not having chronic sleep deprivation feels like?”

Melog padded up the canoodling couple. The feline fey was like a panther sculpted out of smoke and moonbeams. Their mane shimmered bluish-green mane as they flopped themself down at the couple's feet. The alien changeling had imprinted on Catra during the gang’s first ‘interstellar road trip’ and the two had been nigh-inseparable ever since.

Adora fondled a thickening tuft behind Catra's pointed ear. “You growing your hair out again?”

“Yeah, thinking of trying for a pony-tail,” Catra gave her almost chin-length hair a teasing flick. “I hear they're all the rage nowadays.”

“You can't have a ponytail,” protested Adora, only half-seriously. “Ponytails are my thing!”

“Oh, I'm sorry, I thought being She-Ra, Princess of Power and Savior of the Universe was your 'thing',” Catra snorted, rustling Adora's blond locks “That and hair-poofs.”

“Okay, leave my hair-poof outta this,” Adora chuckled. “I was just going to go for a mid-day workout. Wanna come?”

“I'll uh... catch up. I wanna ask Sparkles about something first.”

“Oh?”

“You know just boring... political stuff,” Catra muttered, unconsciously reaching for a small satchel hanging from her belt. “Nothing major.”

“Well, if you say so.” Adora gave Catra another quick peck on the cheek before jogging out the door of their chambers. “Later then.”

Catra waved Adora off, lingering for a long moment before withdrawing with Melog back into the interior. Neither of them noticed the shadowed figure, watching from the undergrowth beneath the balcony.

*

Scarlet runes traced across ebon velvet, as though scrawled upon the void by some demon’s bloody talon…

WELCOME, FRIGHT ZONERS!

“I don't know, Glimmer…” Bow tilted his head, eyes squinting skeptically at the black banner draped across the bright marble and cool pastels of Castle Bright Moon’s throne room. “You sure they'll like it?”

“Of course, the Fright Zone's full of red and black. They'll feel right at home,” answered Glimmer.

The young Mage-Queen twined her arm about the Master Archer's, resting her glittering pink hair on her boyfriend’s dark shoulder. Wow, boyfriend. Even a year later that still gave her a giddy thrill. “Now, show me the confetti arrow!”

Catra poked her head into the throne room, Melog padding alongside her. “What are you dorks doing?”

“Oh, hey Catra. We're just prepping for Scorpia and Perfuma's diplomatic delegation next week,” answered Glimmer. “So… what do you think?”

“Looks great, Sparkles,” said Catra through what she hoped was a sincere grin, taking in the odd combination of gaudily colored floral bouquets and grinning techno-gargoyles that bedecked every flat surface.

No lazy stereotypes here, she thought sarcastically. See? I have grown. A year ago, I would have said that out loud. “Look, can I ask you guys something, something... personal?”

“Sure,” answered Bow, “Is everything okay?”

“It's just...” Catra began awkwardly rubbing her arm, eyes locked on the floor before Melog gave her a soft head-nudge. “I read somewhere that here in Princess Land when you're, you know, with someone and want to make it... official, you exchange personal items so...”

She reached into her satchel to reveal the old red headdress she had worn in her days with the Horde. She had immaculately waxed and polished it to the point it could probably deflect a laser-bolt in a pinch.

“Awww, Catra, that is so sweet,” Glimmer cooed teasingly. “But Bow and I aren't really looking for a third. Not right now, anyway.”

“WHAT!?!” Catra blushed furiously. “No, you dingbat! It's for Adora! I just wanted... I don't know... your advice or whatever.”

“I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself,” wheezed Glimmer, practically buckled over with laughter before regaining her composure. “I'm sure Adora will love it as much as she loves you.”

“But what if she doesn't? What if it reminds her of the bad times? What if she forces herself to wear it to make me happy?” Catra rapid-fired before dropping into a hollow whisper. “What if... What if she says ‘no’?”

“Catra…” Glimmer smiled a small wistful smile, giving her friend a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. “If you could see yourself the way I know Adora sees you, you’d never even think to ask that.”

“You really think so?” Catra asked softly.

“I know so. Isn’t that right, Bow?” Glimmer turned to find her boyfriend’s eyes wide as saucers and streaming like faucets. “Bow?”

“I'm just so proud of you both,” he sniffled.

*

Adora had decided to cap off her midday workout with a dip in the deep end of the Crystal Lake to cleanse the sweat. She’d returned to the castle courtyard overhanging the lake to collapse on the soft warm grass, listening to the wind moving through tinkling silver leaves. She was barefoot, clad only in her shorts and workout top; the rest of her clothing lay neatly folded nearby.

She’d planned to do a little moonbathing to dry off, but her mind and body had different plans. She fidgeted incessantly, trying to get comfortable in the warm moonlight. But every time she thought she’d found a good position, one of her limbs would twitch, or her thoughts would spin-off on some weird over analytical tangent. Did Catra seem ‘off’ earlier? Was she upset with me? Did she not like the thing I did with her feet last night?

Adora tried to shake her head clear. She supposed she could do a lap of the castle to dry off? But then she'd be sweaty again. No. If she could help topple an interstellar despot, she could lie still for twenty minutes and do a little moonbathing; she just had to empty her mind. Her eyelids gradually sank as the moons sailed by, her breathing slow and deep. She’d almost completely drifted off when her subconscious caught the tell-tale whine of a blade being drawn from its sheath.

She had only had a split-second the roll out of the way before a gleaming steel-white sword impaled itself in the lawn where her neck had just been.

“Well, that was pathetic,” drawled a voice like crystal: tinkling, cold and sharp

Adora leaped to her feet as a tall statuesque woman in gleaming silver-white armor sauntered from the shadows. Platinum blond waves fell about a perfectly heart-shaped face. Her frost blue eyes tracked her prey like an ice-hawk.

“WHAT THE HECK!?!” Adora instinctively summoned her energy sword, assuming a battle stance. She gawked at the white-clad warrior. Adora might have thought her pretty if not for the attempted murder just a few seconds ago. “You almost killed me!”

“Almost isn't good enough,” sneered the stranger, pausing to retrieve her own sword. The alien blade was embedded in the ground, almost to the hilt. But the stranger tore the sword loose with a single fluid gesture. She gave the blade a performative twirl… then pounced

Adora raised her own sword in a two-handed grip, barely parrying the blow. “Who are you?”

“My Granny named me Gilotina,” cooed the blade-wielding assassin, grinning wickedly. “Wanna see why?”

“Not particularly.” Adora held her sword high. Her opponent circled languidly, smiling like a cat that had found an especially cute mouse. Adora’s eyes narrowed. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

“I was going to ask you the same question,” Gilotina drawled, absently twirling her blade. “Come on! I want to see what all the fuss is about? Show me the magic!”

“Oh, you want magic?” Adora smirked, raising her sword to the heavens. She always loved this part. “For the honor of GRAYSKULL!!!”

Light like a new-born star filled the courtyard, enveloping Adora in celestial radiance. Raw energy flowed through her, reshaping her, becoming part of her. Within the blink of an eye, the young ex-Horde soldier was replaced by a towering shining figure in gold and white armor.

“YOU GOT MAGIC!” She-Ra, Princess of Power, roared defiantly. She hurled a fist that had shattered tanks... only for Gilotina to catch it in mid-swing. She-Ra's eyes went wide in stunned disbelief. Feeling seeped from her fist as Gilotina’s grip tightened.

“Finally...” Gilotina leered cruelly. “Now, I can really cut loose.”

An armored boot hit She-Ra like a piledriver to the abdomen, blasting the air from her lungs, sending her flying over a marble railing and plummeting back into the Crystal Lake. She hit the stony shallows like a crashing asteroid, cracking the lakebed. It would have killed Adora instantly. As it was, She-Ra struggled to claw back to her feet, coughing up water.

Gilotina leaped from the platform above like a diver from a springboard, her lithe body pirouetting in mid-fall as her weapon split into two flashing blades. A groggy She-Ra barely threw herself aside before her attacker landed with enough force to jellify an ordinary mortal.

The blond assassin struck again and again, opening a dozen paper thin shallow cuts across She-Ra's skin like stinging kisses. Gilotina was not quite as strong as She-Ra, or quite as fast as Catra, but she was clearly an expert swordswoman, combining strength, speed and finesse with playful sadism.

She-Ra finally staggered backwards, falling on one knee. Her breath was ragged, her aura dim.

“Aaawww, did the poor little birdy get her pretty wings clipped? I just hate seeing a poor animal suffer.” Gilotina broke into a coquettish giggle. “Just kidding, suffering animals are hilarious!”

“Why... Why are you doing this?” She-Ra panted, clutching her side.

“Oh, hun, you have no idea how big your universe just got.” Gliotina’s plastic smile cracked. “Do you really want to know why I’m doing this?”

Stars burst across She-Ra’s vision as Gilotina delivered a steel-toed kick to the face.

“Because I'm the best!” Gilotina snarled. “Because I clawed my way out of the gutters of Armagetto to prove I'm the best! And you? You're just some... nobody! You think you're special 'cuz you tripped over a magic sword in the woods!?”

She-Ra reeled from another blow, bracing herself against a rocky outcropping. “How do you even know about that?”

“Oh, we know lots of thing about you, Adora. Things you probably don't even know about yourself. For example...” Gilotina smirked, raising the tip of her blade to She-Ra's throat. “I know how you die.”

Four bloody slashes erupted across Gilotina's face, sending her reeling back, clutching her scarred visage.

Melog dropped their glamour, shimmering themself and Catra back into visibility between She-Ra and Gilotina, hackles raised like lionesses protecting their pride. Catra's eyes blazed with heterochromatic fury. “HANDS OFF MY GIRLFRIEND, BITCH!”

“My face... you scratched my face...” Gliotina fingers trembled as she traced the scarlet rivulets running down her once flawless visage. “I'LL SKIN YOU ALIVE, YOU FILTHY ALLEY-”

Gilotina was cut off by She-Ra's energy sword shifting into a glowing warhammer and knocking her flying across the lake. While the platinum blond was still flailing in mid-air, the warhammer shifted into a glittering lasso, wrapping about Gilotina's ankle. With a swift yank, She-Ra brought the would-be assassin slamming face down unto the rocky shore.

“Hands off my girlfriend…” She-Ra bellowed defiantly before trailing off awkwardly. “Um... jerk face!?”

“Seriously?” Catra asked. “How do you hang out with me and Sparkles and still not know how to swear?”

“It feels weird,” She-Ra whined.

A disheveled Gilotina leaped to her feet, charging forward with both blades. All her icy poise washed away by a shriek of banshee rage. Which was quickly drowned out by a barrage of violet energy blasts and exploding arrowheads.

Glimmer and Bow appeared in a flash of pink light next to She-Ra, Catra and Melog.

Bow nocked another arrow. “Adora, Catra, should we know why there's an evil sword lady trying to murder you?”

Glimmer's mage staff pulsed with violet light. “Is she from the Horde?”

“I think I would remember seeing her in the Fright Zone,” She-Ra answered.

“Or aboard the Velvet Glove,” Catra added, recalling her brief but horrific stay aboard Horde Prime’s flagship.

Gilotina staggered upright, bloody and bruised, blades broken into jagged metal stumps.  A shining energy sword, a glimmering mage staff, a trick arrowhead and two sets of very itchy claws were pointed directly at her.

“It's over, Gilotina,” spoke She-Ra. “There's no reason for anyone else to get hurt.”

“Oh, someone always has to get hurt...” Gilotina laugh was like shattered glass, sharp and broken. “Come on then, you fruity little brats! Who wants to die first!? DIE FOR DARK-”

BOOOOOM!!!

A swirling vortex of hellish light opened beneath Gilotina's feet. She only had a moment to scream in bloody terror before the fiery orange maw swallowed her whole. A moment later it vanished as swiftly as it had appeared, leaving no trace behind. The four Etherians stared in mute shock before Glimmer finally broke the silence...

“What. The. F-”

*

THE GODHEAD

May 16, 13:52 UCT

“LET ME GO, YOU UGLY FREAKS!!!”

Gilotina kicked and screamed as she was dragged through the dim corridor by two snarling Parademons. The hulking cybernetic horrors reeked of rancid meat and rusted copper. Their metallic talons dug into her immortal flesh, drawing glistening red beads that looks almost black in the low light. She tried to dig her heels into the steel grating of the deck, only for the cyber-demons to nearly twist her ankles off with with a brutal wrench.

On some level, Gilotina knew it was futile to struggle. She could no more prevent what was about to happen than she could stop the planets from spinning. But that certainty did nothing to quell the animal panic that seized her hindbrain in white terror.

The corridor eventually opened into a cavernous command deck dominated by a sharply angular throne. A crimson hololith of Etheria and her twelve moons blazed overhead, casting the entire chamber in a dull red glow. A tall raven-haired warrior-goddess in azure and gold armor stood by the throne; her gaze was blank, impassive.

“Barda, please!” Gilotina looked imploringly to her sister Fury. Barda had always been a tough bitch, tough but fair. She would understand. She would plead Gilotina’s case. “You have to talk to her! Explain to her why I-”

“Enough!”

The unseen voice echoed across the command deck as the looming throne rotated to reveal its occupant, a stoutly built elder goddess in armour much like Barda’s own, though far more ornate. The crimson cloak draped across her broad muscled shoulders seemed at odds with her pale grey mane and serenely smiling wrinkled face.

“Oh, sweet Gilotina,” she cooed softly. “Why must you hurt your dear old Granny so?”

The Parademons tossed the shaking Gilotina down at the foot of Granny’s throne. Her eyes were locked on the deck plate, voice stuttering as her body begin to freeze up. “I… I just…”

“Look at me when I'm speaking, child,” Granny spoke, in that deathly quiet tone she only used when she was really really mad.

Gilotina's lip trembled as she raised her eyes to meet Granny's iron gaze.

“Now, didn't Granny say that entrapping our quarry would require patience and careful planning?” She spoke sweetly, almost soothingly.

“Yes, Granny,” answered Gilotina mechanically, distantly, sinking into herself.

“And haven't you always listened to your Granny?”

“Yes, Granny.”

“Then why ever would you run off on your own like that, you silly little dumpling?” Granny chuckled warmly, kneeling to cup Gilotina's cheek with a tenderness that surprised her. Maybe she’d get off easy after all?

“I did it for you, Granny! For you and Great Darks-” Gilotina began hopefully before Granny's fingers clamped down her throat like a vice, squeezing every sliver of breath from the young Fury's windpipe.

“LYING HARLOT!!!” Granny roared. Her toadish face distended in a hateful snarl as she wrenched Gilotina bodily from the ground. “You wanted all the glory for yourself! You wanted to show-off! And after everything Granny’s done for you! Why, if it weren’t for me, you’d still be rotting in an Oan Sciencell!”

Gilotina tried to choke out a response, to beg for forgiveness. But all she could manage was a wheezing gurgle as her legs flailed impotently in mid-air. Her vision began to fog. Even a New Goddess needed to breath.

Granny tossed Gilotina back to the deck with casual distain. The young Fury just lay there in a foetal curl, lungs burning as her they sucked in the acrid air in broken heaving sobs.

“I’m afraid the usual disciplines simply won’t suffice this time, Gilotina,” sighed Granny, shaking her head dolefully. Her rage was hidden behind a mask of sad resignation, smouldering just beneath the veneer. “This transgression calls for a very special punishment.”

“With respect, Granny,” spoke Barda, stepping between her mentor and the fallen fury. “I’m Gilotina’s commanding officer. I should be the one to answer for her insubordination.”

“My, how very selfless of you, Barda dear?” Granny smiled. before her voice dropped back into that deathly quiet. “But I will decide who is and is not punished on this ship. Am I understood?”

“I only mea-” Barda began, before withering under the elder goddess’ glare, as she had a thousand times before. “Yes, Granny.”

Granny turned her glare back on Gilotina, ruby lips curling in a cruel leer. “Take her… to the Lump.”

“No, Granny, please!” Gilotina jerked up, wild-eyed with terror as the silent Parademons once more dug their steel claws into her. She trashed wildly, her piteous wails reverberating down the corridors “I’ll be good! I'LL BE GOOOD!!!”

Barda watched impassively as her fellow Fury was dragging off, waiting until the girl's screams had faded into the distance before turning back to Granny. “New orders?”

“Now that our quarry's aware she's being hunted, we'll have to accelerate our schedule. But never fear, Barda dear…” Granny’s lips curled into a cruel smile, turning to regard the crimson holo-Etheria that floated above.

“In the end, Goodness always prevails.”

Chapter Text

CASTLE BRIGHT MOON

May 16, 15:58 UCT

“A little to the left!” Bow waved, hunched over his tracker pad in the aftermoon light. His dark brow wrinkled in concentration, upping the gain on the spectrometer and narrowing the bandwidth yet again. He almost had it before the waveform collapsed. “No, that's too much to the left! Okay, Catra, try moving yours to the right!”

Far above, on the castle's central tower, Adora clung white-knuckled to the sweeping crenellations. By contrast, Catra swung languidly from a thin banner pole on the tower’s far side, indifferent to the hundred-foot drop beneath her. Each held an oblong antenna in their free hand.

“Uuugh,” groaned Catra. “Why are we wasting our time with this dumb science crud instead of hunting down the creep who tried to murder Adora?!”

“Catra! This 'dumb science crud' is important!” Glimmer called indignantly from below, before turning to Bow. “But seriously, Beau, why aren't we hunting down the creep who tried to murder Adora?”

“Remember that weird portal that scooped her up?!” Bow asked, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Oh, you mean the shrieking nightmare vortex?!” Catra yelled over the sound of whipping winds and Adora's knocking knees. “Nah, completely forgot about it!”

Bow repressed a sigh. That kind of comment was not helpful. “Well, that 'shrieking nightmare vortex' left behind some kinda weird energy particle!” He yelled back, working his pad. “It's the same particle given off by Horde Prime's teleporters! I think I might be able to track if I can boost my range!”

“You mean she's one of Prime's goons looking for payback?!” Catra asked.

“I didn't say tha-” Bow began before...

Beep-beep-beep-beep!

His tracker’s screen flashed blood-red, threat runes screaming for attention. Whatever those weird particles were, he was picking up a massive influx of them.

*

WHISPERING WOODS

May 16, 16:03 UCT

BOOOOOM!

The indigo maelstrom thundered into existence in the moon-filled sky, far above the blue-green forest canopy. From the booming aperture in space-time emerged a sleek bat-shaped drone. The Bat-Drone's crimson optics scanned the surrounding area, blinking for a moment before turning bright green.

Miss Martian, Halo and Terra stepped out of the Boom-Tube. Momentarily freefalling through the crisp air before they were caught by a cushion of Martian telekinesis.

“Sorry.” Halo winced sheepishly, their aura shifting from indigo to orange as they took flight. Their ‘cousins’, Victor and Danny both needed precise co-ordinates to open a Boom-Tube anywhere. Halo’s powers were less restrictive, more intuitive. The downside of that was they could be a little hit or miss, especially over interstellar distances.

“Halo,” beamed Miss Martian. “You Boom-Tubed us into an alien atmosphere from across the galaxy, with nothing but Green Lantern's long-range telemetry to go on, on your first try! That's amazing!” She turned to her other companion. “Terra, are you okay to-”

But the young Markovian had already summoned a stone platform from the ground below, riding it through the air like the galaxy’s rockiest surfboard.

“Okay then. Let’s touch down in that clearing up ahead and get our bearings,” ordered Miss Martian before Bravo Squad set down in the soft turf. She gazed up at the alien sky, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the bright sun- moonlight. There must have been at least half a dozen of the softly glowing orbs in the rose-pink sky.

According to John Stewart, this planet was light-years from the nearest star yet had a fully functional day night cycle. Maybe the moons generated their own light and heat somehow, maybe it was just magic?

Growing up in the subterranean cities of M’arzz, M’gann had never had much opportunity to study even her own world’s sky. ‘Up’ for most Martians was nothing but a cave ceiling. Maybe that was partly why her people had never made any real foray beyond their desert homeworld until very recent memory. It simply hadn’t occurred to most of them there was anything ‘out there’.

That was until her uncle J’onn, missing for decades, had suddenly started transmitting from Per'elandra, M’arzz’ long silent sister planet, better known to the native life-forms as ‘Earth’. The sudden revelation they weren’t alone in the universe, or even their own star system, had been a profound existential blow to a society long calcified by tradition and prejudice.

It had been the same when Superman, and later her uncle, publicaly revealed themselves to the people of Earth. Even for a species whose mythology and pop-fiction was brimming with stories of strange visitors from the heavens, actually meeting one in the flesh was one hell of a culture shock.

Which was why Miss Martian was determined they keep as low a profile as possible. “Let’s split up and do a short reconnoiter of the area, we’ll rendezvous in thirty minutes. Stay in telepathic range, stay out of sight. Remember, this is just a quick recon mission, no drama.”

*

THE GODHEAD

May 16, 16:06 UCT

Granny Goodness brooded on her command throne. The scarlet-hued hololith of Etheria and her twelve moons cast a hellish glow on her ancient features. She hated losing her temper in front of her children; discipline was a precision instrument, like a scalpel, to be administered with a cool and steady hand. Still, she couldn't let Gilotina's jealous little tantrum go unpunished. Too much was riding on this mission. It was Goodness' last chance to regain her position among the Elite. Her last chance to earn back His favor.

“Granny?”

Goodness turned to find Barda waiting at attention. The Fury captain stood ram-rod straight as she gave a clenched salute, the perfect little toy soldier. Goodness smiled. “Yes, Barda dear?”

“Sensors just picked up a Boom-Tube somewhere on the planet's surface.”

“Not one of ours?”

“I don't believe so.”

“It's a small galaxy, after all,” chuckled Granny. “Well, we can't let interference by the Enemy stand.”

“I’ll Boom-Tube to Apokolips and muster the senior furies immediately.”

“No,” Granny tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Fetch one of the new girls instead; it's about time they earned their keep.”

*

Halo flitted through the Whispering Woods, their aura a warm orange. They were on a mission, they knew, but it was hard not to be distracted by the branches that swayed without wind, or the fairy lights that drifted through the air like pollen. Forager would love it here. There was something eerily beautiful about the alien forest.

It reminded them of New Genesis, the Utopian world where the living super-computer Motherbox had originally been forged before merging with a dying Earth girl to give birth to something entirely new: the being that now called themself Violet Harper AKA Halo. Was it possible to be nostalgic for a place you've never actually been?

<What was that, Halo?> Miss Martian asked through the psychic link.

“Nothing,” muttered Halo aloud, shaking their head. <I mean, nothing to repor->

They halted before a small hill nestled among gigantic roots. Which wouldn't be particularly noteworthy if not for the curtained opening in the side of said hill.

<Hold that thought.> Halo touched down, cautiously moving towards the opening on foot. No sign of life. Remembering what Miss Martian had about staying out of sight, they slowly began edging their way back into the undergrowth until…

“MARA!?!”

Halo yelped, spinning on their heels and falling on their derriere. Above them stood a stooped old woman wrapped in a purple robe and lime green shawl. A veritable bush of grey hair framed her lavender-skinned wrinkled face.

<Halo? Halo, are you alright?!> Miss Martian's psychic voice rang like a klaxon in Halo's mind.

An embarrassed Halo dusted themself off. <I’m fine, I just… bumped into one of the locals.>

<Stay whelmed, we're on our way!>

“Mara?” The forest-witch leaned on a gnarled old broom, frowning thoughtfully as she examined Halo through a pair of goggle-like spectacles. “Madame Razz didn't know you were coming today?”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude.” Halo glanced over their shoulder. “Um... Who's Mara?”

“Now don't be silly, Mara dearie.” Razz chortled, dragging Halo into her home. “Come, I'll make you some spoo.”

*

The interior of dwelling was earthy, literally. The walls were made of packed dirt, the roots of the ancient tree above acting like support columns. For all that, it was surprisingly dry and warm. ‘Cosy’ was the first word that jumped to Halo’s mind. It reminded her of a movie their girlfriend, Harper Roe, had shown her once: the one with the little green puppet.

Razz darted from one end of the cluttered domicile to another with a speed and nimbleness that belied her wizened form. “Sit, dearie, sit!” She exclaimed, placing Halo at the head of a low bench that served as a dining table, distributing four wooden bowls from seemingly nowhere.

“Um, thank you,” said Halo. “But who are the other bowls for?”

“Why your friends, of course, dearie!” Razz chuckled. “Just ask them to clean up after themselves, would you?”

“How do you know about my friends? And what do you mean clean-” Halo began before Miss Martian phased through the dirt wall, followed by Terra simply punching a five-foot hole in it.

“Wait! It's alright!” Halo jumped to their feet, placing themself between the girls and Razz. “She's friendly.”

“Oh? Oh, my gosh, we are so sorry,” Miss Martian spoke apologetically. “Terra?”

With a gesture, the laconic geokinetic sealed the dirt-wall. “Good as new.”

“Thank you, dearie,” said Razz, hauling a jar of grey-white rubbery cubes sloshing in greenish brine. “Now, who's for spoo?”

*

“Seconds, dearie?” ask Madame Razz, hovering over her guests while brandishing a silver ladle.

Miss Martian proffered a picked clean bowl. “Please!”

Razz turned to Halo and Terra. “And you, dearies?”

“NO!” Halo blurted in mild panic. “I mean, No, thank you.”

Terra poked the remains of her own half-eaten bowl. She could have sworn she saw one of the grey-white cubes move. “I had a large breakfast... very large.”

“Suit yourselves.” Razz shrugged, rustling through her cupboard.

“I still don't understand how you speak English?” Miss Martian asked.

“Why you thought Madame Razz, of course, dearie!”

“But I've never met you before today?”

“Don't be silly, dearie! Razz never said anything about before,” chuckled the forest-witch, sniffing another jar of spoo. “Yech, still too fresh. Mara dearie, could you fetch Razz another batch from the barrel out back?”

“Who is Mara?” Terra whispered.

“Me, apparently.” Halo took the empty spoo jar as they got up to head outside. “No problem, Madame Razz.”

“Such a sweet dearie, my Mara. Always so kind to poor old Razz,” the forest-witch sighed low. “Razz just wishes the poor child didn't have to get hurt again.”

*

Halo gagged as they pried the mildewed lid from the aged wooden barrel, releasing an acrid green miasma. They covered their mouth and nose as countless pallid grey cubes sloshed listlessly in the oily green brine. They prayed ‘spoo’ was Halal, or failing that, the Most Merciful would forgive their lapse.

As Halo reached for the empty jar, a golden arrow-shaft suddenly sprouted from the side of the earth hut. They spun on their heels, only to find themself surrounded by four brightly clad yet imposing strangers.

Their leader was an eight-foot-tall golden Space-Valkyrie wielding a sword of pure light. Flanking her was a heterochromatic-eyed cat-girl, straight out of one of Harper’s anime, her claws flexing in agitation. Alongside them was a dark-skinned archer, and a pink-haired girl wielding an ornate staff, their respective weapons aimed directly at Halo.

The Space-Valkyrie levelled her shining blade, issuing an imperious command in a strange alien tongue.

Halo tilted their head quizzically. “Pardon?”

*

“I said 'step away from the spoo!'” She-Ra repeated, realizing how stupid that sounded once she'd said it out loud twice. She shook her head. “Who are you?! What are you doing skulking around Razz's cottage?!”

The hooded stranger responded with a flurry of anxious hand gestures and indecipherable babble.

She-Ra blinked. “Wut?”

“I don't think they speak Common,” whispered Glimmer, mage-staff trained on the stranger. “Bow, are you sure they're the one we're looking for?”

“I think so.” Bow consulted the tracker pad nestled in the crook of his elbow. No mean feat when he was also trying to aim him namesake weapon. “I'm reading traces of the same weird particle from that vortex back at Bright Moon.”

Catra bore her fangs. “Which means they're with the psycho that tried to gut Adora!”

*

The dark-skinned archer said something that sounded placating to the snarling cat-girl, who glared at Halo with hot undisguised hate. Clearly there had been some miscommunication.

“Okaaay...” Halo's voice was low and calm as they backed away slowly, as though from a frightened animal. “I'm just going to go back inside to my friends and Madame Razz now.”

The Space-Valkyrie's eyes widened. “Razz?”

*

“THEY'RE GOING AFTER RAZZ!” Catra roared, claws flashing as they pounced on the stranger.

*

<Tara! Miss Martian! I... AAAIII!!!!>

“Violet!?” Terra cried, nearly knocking over the table as she bolted from the hut with Miss Martian hot on her heels.

“And so it begins...” Madam Razz intoned ominously, before shrugging. “Or ends? Razz always gets those two mixed up.”

*

“Whoa, easy Catra!” She-Ra cried, catching her girlfriend in mid-pounce by the scruff of her neck like a quarrelsome kitten. The hooded stranger let out a small yelp as they lurched back against the earth-packed walls of Razz' hut.

“You heard Bow!” Catra squirmed in She-Ra's grip. “They tried to kill you!”

“I never said that!”

“Everyone just- just breathe, okay!” She-Ra turned towards the hooded stranger. “They don't seem anything like the girl who attacked me, maybe we can-”

Unfortunately, She-Ra's pleas for diplomacy were cut-short by a section of the earth abruptly punching her square in the face.

“ADORA!?!” Catra cried as two more aliens emerged from the hut, a blond runt of a girl in green, black and gold, followed by an older ash-white skinned specter passing ghost-like through the walls.

“Protect Adora!” Catra snapped at Bow and Glimmer as she charged the newcomers. The blond runt wasted no time summoning cannonball chunks of stone from the earth, launching them at the felinoid with rapid-fire fists.

“Seriously!?! There's a freaking Rock Princess now?!” Catra narrowly leaped and dodged past each flying chunk. “Melog!”

Catra suddenly shimmered out of existence, leaving the blond geomancer glancing about the clearing warily before four scarlet slashes erupted across her back.

*

“TARA!?” Halo cried with fury, aura shifting into yellow as they sent an energy blast searing through the seemingly empty air. The alien cat-girl decloaked as she was sent flying across the clearing. She landed on her feet, not with grace but minimal bruising at least.

By the cat-girl's side was yet another vaguely feline alien that glowed with a blue eldritch light, like someone had tried to sculpt a panther out of fairy dust from second-hand description. Its shimmering blue mane turned an angry crimson as it pounced on Halo.

<Halo! Hold on, I'm-> Miss Martian reeled as a golden arrow whizzed past her before erupting in billowing black cloud.

*

“Woot! Smoke bomb arrow for the...” Bow's voice died in his throat. The billowing black clouds parted to reveal the pale alien girl hovering within, eyes blazing with otherworldly green fire.

“More arrows!” Bow yelped, rapidly firing another volley of fletched projectiles only for them to halt in mid-flight at a gesture from the alien redhead. With another flick of her wrist, the arrows spun in mid-air, pointed tips aimed directly at their original owner.

Bow gulped. “Oh boy.”

*

Miss Martian kept the arrows telekinetically trained on the dark-skinned archer, who was doing the sensible thing and backing off. Good. With any luck they could still deescalate this situation before...

“GIYYYA!”

A pink-haired girl winked into existence before M'gann's eyes in a blinding flash of violet light, before thwacking the stunned Martian across the head with a silver-tipped mage-staff.

*

“Catra? Catra?!” She-Ra huddled over her girlfriend's still form. “Please say something!”

“Anyone get the number of that hover-tank?” Catra groaned, trying to sit upright before wincing in pain.

“You're fine. Just take it easy for a minute.” She-Ra placed a small kiss on the cat-girl's forehead before rising to her feet, fist clenched about the hilt of her energy sword. “I'm ending this.”

*

The glowing pseudo-feline clawed and slashed ferociously though futilely at Halo's crimson energy sphere, hissing and snarling like an enraged demon.

“No! Down! Bad Kitty!” Halo implored, reluctant to retaliate against a creature they weren't even sure was sapient. Fortunately, their energy sphere held strong.

Right until a swing from a shining energy hammer sent Halo, and their sphere, ricocheting across the clearing like a pinball. The young hero fell to their knees, clutching their throbbing skull as the Space-Valkyrie barreled down on them with glowing warhammer held high.

*

“FOR ETHERIA!!!” She-Ra roared with white hot fury as she leaped high, ready to bring her warhammer crashing down on the hooded invader that dared hurt Catra.

Until she was stopped cold by a broom to the face.

“OW!”

*

“Mara! How can you treat Madame Razz's guests so shamefully?!” The forest-witch shook her broom at the eight-foot Space-Valkyrie, who cringed before the wizened old woman like a guilty child.

Halo rubbed their head, hand glowing a soft violet to bring down the swelling. “I thought I was Mara?”

“Shh, Adora,” Razz hushed the Earthling before bustling past. “Now, why don't we all settle down and talk this out over some nice tea like civilized peoples, yes?”

“Is she always like this?” Halo asked.

The Space-Valkyrie shrugged, muttering something Halo assumed translated roughly as 'Pretty much'.

*

One boiled kettle and a psychic crash-course in Etherian Common later, Miss Martian, Halo, Terra, Adora, Glimmer and Bow were sitting about Madame Razz's table as the forest-witch poured steaming blue-green liquid into an assortment of mismatched cups. Catra and Melog held back in the corner, watching the off-worlders with undisguised suspicion.

“Thank you, Razz,” Miss Martian blew on her tea to cool it, careful not to hold the hot mug too close. “So... Adora, is it? You're saying you defeated Horde Prime?”

“Oh, she totally obliterated him!” Glimmer gushed proudly.

“But in a non-violent, spiritual kind of way,” added Bow.

“D'aaaw, you guys!” Adora chuffed.

Back in her mortal form and red jacket, the pony-tailed youth seemed little like the eight-foot golden demi-goddess Bravo Squad had faced less than an hour ago. If she were an Earthling, M’gann would have put her down as… nineteen, twenty, maybe twenty one? But then this wasn’t Earth, and by Martian standards, M’gann was barely any older.

From what she had gathered, Etheria had spent most of the last millennium trapped in some sort of ‘shadow dimension’ not unlike the Phantom Zone. It had been abruptly pulled back into real space and conquered by Horde Prime little over a year ago. Prime had been hell-bent on harvesting the planet’s natural reserves of mystical energy into some kind of doomsday weapon before ‘She-Ra’ and her friends finally put a stop to him.

<Are you buying any of this?> Terra's voice echoed in Miss Martian's mind.

<I don't know,> Miss Martian replied wordlessly. <They seem genuine enough but... Magic princesses, talking horses, vanquishing alien empires with the power of love? It's like something out of one of those old cartoons Uncle J'onn used to send us back in the 80s.>

<Ah yes, Pretty Pretty Pegasus. I used to have the figurines.>

<Aren't you both being a bit cynical?> Halo inquired. <If they wanted, they could have just kept fighting? And Madame Razz trusts them?>

<No offence, Violet,> Terra replied. <But I just saw Razz talking to her broom.>

The three Solar visitors continued exchanging silent glances back and forth, along with the occasional wordless nod.

“Uh... Are you guys okay?” Adora asked.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” answered Miss Martian, realizing she’d gotten distracted. “We were just-”

“Having a secret psychic conversation? Yeah, we guessed,” snapped Catra, turning to her fellow Etherians. “Why are you telling these people everything when they've told us almost nothing! I was on Prime's flagship for weeks and he never mentioned a planet Earth, or Magic Ring Corps, or... anything beyond the Horde Empire!”

“Why would he?” Glimmer countered

Catra's eyes narrowed at the mage-queen. “Seriously, Sparkles?”

“No, Glimmer's right,” said Bow. “If Prime really had already conquered the entire universe, why would he even need the Heart of Etheria in the first place?”

“I can't believe you're buying this?!” Carta cried. “Have you forgotten about the sword-wielding freak who tried to kill you today? For all we know they sent her!”

“Sword-wielding freak?” asked Miss Martian.

Miss Martian’s brow furrowed as she was brought up to speed on the Etherians’ day. Their description of the white-clad assassin’s inhuman strength and speed, as well as her almost fanatical sadism, struck an uncomfortably familiar chord. M’gann exchanged a glance with Halo; she was thinking the same thing.

“Bow, can I see these ‘weird particles’ you picked up?” Miss Martian asked.

“Uh sure.” He passed her his tracker pad.

Miss Martian took the pad, studying the data runes closely. “These look like Zeta particles?”

“Zeta particles?” Bow asked.

“They're usually given off by Zeta-Beams or...” M’gann’s blood ran colder than the frozen icecaps of her homeworld. “This portal you saw, did it make a loud noise? Like a boom or a crack of-”

KRAKATHOOOM!!!

The small hovel exploded in a blast of white lightning and deafening thunder that sent the stunned occupants flying in every direction.

<Halo... Terra...?> Miss Martian struggled to cut through the pain flooding her mind as she density-shifted herself out of the debris. She reached out a hand to telekinetically disperse the smoke and ash obscuring her vision, only for a black-heeled boot to viciously stamp down on her wrist.

Looming above the prone Martian stood a statuesque brunette, built like an Olympian goddess. She was clad entirely in black, save for the jagged golden lightning bolt emblazed on her chest.

She grinned wickedly. “Hello, Megan.”

M’gann reeled with horror and recognition at the face glaring down at her. It was a face she had always associated with innocence and light, now twisted with cruelty and hate.

“Mary?”

*

Adora's eyes flickered open weakly; the swirling dust made them watery and stinging. She couldn't have been out of it more than a few minutes, but that had been more than enough time to turn the Whispering Woods into a shrieking warzone, ringing with harsh angry voices.

“Please, Mary, this isn't yo-” Miss Martian pleaded before she was sent hurtling across the clearing by whip-crack blow that struck faster than she could turn intangible.

“Oh, spare me the concerned big sister act, Morse. You never cared about me, none of your so called ‘Team’ did,” snarled her attacker, a girl clad in form-fitting back who floated over the blasted Earth, yellow lightning arcing from narrowed eyes. “And the name is Black Mary!”

The girl in black stalked towards the fallen Martian only for two slabs of solid granite to snap close around her like a mouse trap. Across the glade, Terra's brow furrowed; sweat beaded down her face as the rock prison began to tremble, before exploding in a blast of stony shrapnel.

Glimmer and Bow leaped into action, peppering Black Mary with a flurry of magic bolts and blast arrows only to be sent flying when she brought her black boot down like a jackhammer, sending a seismic wave rippling through the earth. Adora primed herself to join the fray when…

“A-adora?” came a soft voice.

“Madame Razz!?” Adora swiftly threw aside the rubble pinning her mentor. The forest-witch seemed uninjured but had never looked so fragile, as though Razz’s very bones were as brittle as the twigs twined in her grey hair. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, dearie,” coughed Razz, still prone. “But you must run, girl! She’s after you!”

“Run? But, my frien-”

“Please, Adora!” Razz pleaded, shaking her by the shoulders. “I know it might jumble everything, but please listen to Razz and just this once, run!”

Adora caught sight of Black Mary swatting aside a pouncing Catra and Melog with casual brutality.

“I’m sorry, Razz,” whispered Adora, summoning her energy sword. “I’ll be back in just a sec, okay?”

Razz watched Adora go, just as she’d watched her go countless times before, just as she’d watch her go countless times again. Every time, Razz tried to talk her out of going and every time Adora went regardless. It was just her nature; it was why Razz loved her.

And why Razz always hated this part.

*

Catra tried to stagger to her feet, only for Black Mary’s boot to pin her to the ground. She tried to scratch at what bare leg was exposed by the black costume. But trying to break the new girl’s pale skin was like clawing at marble. “The hell are you made of?!”

“Sugar and spice and all things nice,” Black Mary quipped. She started pressing her weight on her boot. The pressure on Catra’s ribcage began edging towards her breaking point.

“Let’s see what you’re made of,” sneered Black Mary, before She-Ra tackled her like a golden comet. The two demi-goddesses tumbled across the clearing, digging deep troughs in the soft earth as they grappled.

“You actually think you can outmuscle me, blondie?” Black Mary barked derisively, wrestling with the Princess of Power. “I possess the Strength of Hercules, the Stamina of Atlas and the Power of Zeus!”

“Yeah!? Well I have no idea who any of those are!” She-Ra roared. She hooked her arm under Black Mary’s and, with a single titanic heave, lifted the shocked Fury directly over her head before tossing her clear across the glade.

Black Mary slammed into a boulder with enough force to crack it in half, but not nearly enough to dampen her rage. She was about to launch herself back into the fray when she was stopped short by the end of a broom ineffectually slapping her in the face.

“Leave my Mara alone, you… you ruffian!” Razz bellowed, continuing to pelt the invader.

“Seriously?” Black Mary chortled through the ineffectual whacking.

“Razz!? Get back!” She-Ra cried.

“Oh, I am so done with this.” Black Mary seized Razz by her throat, dangling the forest-witch in mid-air. “She-Ra comes with me, or I snap the old hag like twig!”

“She’s bluffing!” M’gann insisted, as much to convince herself as the others. “I know you, Mary; we were friends. You’re not capable of that.”

“Well, you never did think I was capable of much, did you, Morse?” Mary’s eyes hardened. “And we were never friends.”

Mary’s fingers tightened about Razz’s throat, eliciting a rasping wheeze from the forest-witch.

“STOP!”

She-Ra stepped forward, her golden aura dissipating as she reverted to Adora. “I’ll come quietly.”

“The heck are you doing!?” Catra hissed, grabbing Adora’s arm. “You heard the spooky pale girl; it’s a bluff!”

“I can’t take that chance. It’s going to be okay, promise.” Adora gave Catra’s hand one last squeeze before pulling away to approach Black Mary, arms raised above her head. “I’m ready.”

In a blur of motion, Black Mary dropped the gasping Razz, streaking forward to grab Adora by the collar. The two of them were nose to nose before Adora’s eye could even register the movement.  “Don’t try anything cute, blondie,” whispered Mary. “Fatherbox?”

BOOOOOM!!!

The Boom-Tube opened behind Black Mary as she dragged her captive into the fiery portal, pausing to flash a vicious leer at her former teammate. “It’s been real, Morse. Let’s do this again sometime.” With that, he vortex collapsed around Adora and Black Mary, leaving only empty air in their wake.

“Razz!?” Halo cried, flying to the forest-witch’s side. “Are you okay?”

“My poor sweet Mara…” Razz sobbed softly. “Not again… not again…”

“We have to go after her!” Catra rounded on the three off-worlders, wild-eyed with panic. “Can’t you track that thing!?”

“Boom-Tubes can go almost anywhere,” explained Miss Martian. “We don’t know how to track them.”

Bow stroked his chin thoughtfully. “We know someone who might.”

*

THE GODHEAD

May 16, 18:13 UCT

Black Mary snapped a heavy collar about Adora's neck before tossing the thrashing Etherian roughly to the deck plate.

“I said I'd go with you... But I never said I'd stay!” Adora leaped to her feet, thrusting her open palm to the heavens. “FOR THE HONOR OF GRAYSKULL!!!”

Nothing happened. She posed expectantly in the dim silent corridor, waiting for the familiar rush of power. “I said... FOR THE HONOR OF GRAYSKULL!!”

Black Mary’s hands rested cockily on her hips. “Wow, that sure showed me.”

“I... I don't understand,” Adora stared at her empty hands. “What happened to my sword, my powers?”

“The inhibitor collar is designed to suppress your... abnormalities. Well the obvious ones at least.” An elderly woman, built like a truck and armor-clad stepped from the darkness, a look of smug triumph on her face. “You’re not the only one with friends in low places.”

Adora spun on her heels, confronting the newcomer. “Who are you!?”

“Why, child,” cooed the crone sweetly. “I'm you're dear old Granny.”

“Like heck you aRRGHH!!!” Adora buckled to her knees as the inhibitor collar sent a jolt of white-hot agony surging through her nervous system.

“Language,” chided Granny coolly, deactivating the shock with a tap of her gauntlet.

“What do you want with me?” Adora asked as Black Mary wrenched her back to her feet.

“I'm so glad you asked, dear,” spoke Granny, tapping another control on her gauntlet.

The heavy metal doors at the end of the corridor grinded open as an armored cyber-demon lumbered out of the shadows. Slung over its shoulder, like a sack of potatoes, hung the limp insensate form of Gilotina.

The white-clad assassin's once icy cruel eyes stared blankly into the void, glazed and soulless. A droplet of spittle traced a thin snail's trail from the corner of her slack lips.

“What... What did you do to her?” Adora asked, voice faint.

“I’ve given her something most would sell their souls for; a second chance,” Goodness gently brushed a lock of platinum blond hair from the catatonic Fury's vacant face. “Her mind is now a blank page for Granny to write on anew.”

“You... YOU MONSTER!!!” Adora was shocked again by the collar, this time slumping to the deck as the pain began to overtake her.

“Such an unruly child,” tutted Goodness, cupping the stunned Etherian's cheeks. “But don't worry, dear. Granny will empty all those nasty ugly thoughts out of your pretty little head.”

Adora felt herself slipping into the darkness, Goodness’ last words echoing through her fading consciousness…

“Mary, be a dear and introduce our new guest... to the Lump.”

Chapter Text

BEAST ISLAND

May 17, 16:08 UCT

“Tiny sandwiches?”

‘Wrong Hordak’ winked amiably, proffering a platter of miniature filled breads to his young guests; the first guests he'd had since... ever, from what Miss Martian could tell. The white-haired Horde clone’s resemblance to the holo-image of Horde Prime that M’gann had seen back on the Watchtower was uncanny. But any resemblance ended at the purely physiological. ‘Wrong Hordak’ radiated nothing but warm sincerity and a deep-rooted desire to make others happy. It was hard to believe he was the genetic duplicate of a vicious tyrant.

But then, Miss Martian’s own husband was a partial clone of Lex Luthor of all people. M’gann couldn’t imagine anyone more utterly unlike her dear sweet Conner than the criminal CEO of LexCorp. She shook thoughts of Conner from her head. “No thank you, uh… Wrong Hordak.”

“As you wish, Bro- I'm mean Sister,” the clone corrected himself. “Free Will is the most precious and sacred thing in the universe! Isn't that right, Brother?”

A second Horde clone - with dark, purple-dyed hair and clad in a robotic exoskeleton - glanced up from his console before grunting monosyllabically. He was another story, cold, aloof, closed off, yet with a certain awkward vulnerability he couldn’t completely hide behind the stony veneer. He reminded M’gann of some of the students she counselled back at Happy Harbor High.

“Oh, don't mind Right Hordak,” spoke Entrapta, a goggled Etherian woman in greasy overalls, swinging from the ceiling by her long prehensile pigtails. “He's still a teensy bit sore about the Princess Alliance exiling him here.”

“Yeah, because of all the war crimes,” muttered Glimmer, under her breath.

There was clearly a lot more history here than Miss Martian was privy too. She’d just have to trust the relevant parts would be explained as needed.

At least a dozen other Horde clones mulled about the makeshift lab, working to reclamate various hunks of corroded millennia old tech. Their outfits were a kaleidoscope of colors and styles. Bright green mohawks, electric blue thigh-high boots, and even the odd hot-pink miniskirt were all on full display. After what Green Lantern had told Bravo Squad about the horrors of the Horde hive-mind, it was endearing to see how Prime’s clones had so readily embraced individuality. Frankly, Mars and Earth could both take lessons.

“Can we get back on topic?” Catra asked, tapping her bare foot irritably against the rocky floor as Melog tried to comfort her. Her anxiety was a high-pitched whine, like tinnitus. Catra had been on edge ever since the incident in the Whispering Woods. M’gann didn’t need psychic powers to guess why; she’d be in the same state if Conner…

“How could I forget!? Adora's been kidnapped by evil space gods!?!” Entrapta enthused gleefully, leaning uncomfortably close to Halo. “Tell me everything!”

“Everything? Oh, that might take a while…” Halo winced uncomfortably. “Well, it all started when the Old ‘Gods’ died...”

“Maybe we could focus on tracking these 'Boom-Tubes',” said Bow, offering Entrapta his tracker pad. “This is everything we know about 'Zeta particles'. If anyone can track Adora; you can, Entrapta!”

“Fascinating,” cooed Entrapta, salivating over the new data. “Of course, I'll have to put off my study of the ship.”

“Ship?” asked Terra, shoveling a fistful of tiny sandwiches into her mouth.

“You mean Darla?” added Bow, referring the ancient crystalline craft that had just carried them to Beast Island from halfway across Etheria.

“No, silly,” snorted Entrapta. “I mean the ominous extra-therian spacecraft hiding behind the moon of Zin!” She tapped a control panel with a tendril of purple hair, summoning the looming holo-image of a cyclopean vessel crafted in the shape a titan’s cranium. “I picked it up a couple of days ago while testing out the long-range sensors I salvaged from a Horde battlecruiser.”

“WHAT!?” Glimmer blurted.

“Not that it was hard to find,” continued Entrapta animatedly. “The energy signature of its weapon systems alone are off the chart!”

Catra grabbed the Tech Princess by the shoulders, practically shaking with fury. “There is an alien warship orbiting the planet and you DIDN'T TELL ANYONE!?!”

“Don't be ridiculous,” answered Entrapta obliviously. “I told the Hordaks!”

“And I told my brother!” Wrong Hordak chimed cheerily.

Right Hordak merely grunted his assent.

Miss Martian leaned forward, examining the holo. A cursory glance was enough to confirm her worst fears; an Apokoliptan warship. Sweet C'eridy'all, what had Mary gotten herself mixed up in? “Bow, is ‘Darla’ space worthy?”

Bow shrugged. “Uuuh, more or less.”

*

DARLA

May 17, 20:34 UCT

Zin was the dimmest and most distant of Etheria's moons, named after the villain of some ancient legend. At least that’s what Catra recalled Glimmer telling her once. Catra had only been half-listening at the time, never one for moongazing or fairy tales. The pale green orb dominated the main viewscreen as seven young heroes crowded about the bridges' main control console.

“Entering orbit of Zin now,” said Entrapta, working at least three consoles simultaneously with her octopi-like hair. It was shocking how laser focused she could be when in her element. “Initiating sensor sweep.”

Terra perched atop a small floating boulder. “Are you sure your... cat can keep the ship cloaked?”

“Melog isn't a cat! They're a being of pure magic, and they can keep us cloaked just fine, Rock Princess,” snipped Catra indignantly, making a mental note to ask Adora what the heck a 'cat' was when this was all over.

“Sorry I asked,” Terra muttered low.

Not nearly low enough to avoid Catra overhearing, though. Ears like hers didn’t miss much. Whatever. Once she had Adora back, they could send these Earth jerks and their creepy space god friends on their way.

“Wait, I think I got something,” Entrapta said.

The viewscreen quickly zoomed in on a pixel of grey so dark it barely stood out from the sea of black. It grew into a monolithic warship, hovering in the void like a great stone idol. Its prow was cast in the image of a cold cruel face, every line of its expressionless features tinged with ageless malice.

Bow repressed a shudder. “Who is that supposed to be?”

“Believe me, you'd rather not know,” Halo answered somberly.

“Halo, can you boom us in?” Miss Martian asked.

Halo shook their head. “Not without alerting the entire crew. And that’s assuming I don't accidently boom us into a wall or reactor core.”

“Leave that to me,” Glimmer said. “You guys all cool with holding hands for a sec?”

*

THE GODHEAD

May 17, 20:37 UCT

Miss Martian, Catra, Halo, Glimmer, Terra and Bow materialized in a burst of violet light, momentarily illuminating a dim yet oppressively hot cargo hold. The six young heroes formed a defensive ring as they swept the chamber for hostiles.

<Clear!> Miss Martian' voice echoed in their minds. <I'm going to try locating Adora with a psychic sweep.>

“Could have said that without poking in our brains,” hissed Catra in the sweltering dark.

“Noted,” whispered Miss Martian coolly, her eyes blazing green.

*

Trapped in a place without light or noise, the Lump slumbered shapelessly in an amniotic vat. The Lump had no need of sight or sound; its own senses could not fail to miss the constant whispering cacophony of minds that surrounded it. Most other minds were small blind things to the Lump, shedding their thoughts carelessly like lice, heedless of who or what might pick them up.

It surprised Lump then, when one of the other minds began casting their thoughts with clear direction and purpose, like a searchlight. Their thoughts grazed the Lump’s consciousness. The Lump did not care for that. The Lump valued its solitude. Ultimately, solitude was the only thing the Lump had to value.  So, the Lump did what it always did whenever another intruded on its private domain; it lashed out.

*

“Miss Martian!?” Terra cried. She and Halo caught the falling Martian before she hit the deck. “What's wrong?”

“An immense psychic presence... somewhere on the ship... incredibly hostile,” Miss Martian grimaced, brow creased with pain. “Have to keep it engaged on the psychic plane... before it...” Miss Martian's mind went silent, body still, eyes still burning like emerald stars.

“Is she okay?” asked Glimmer worryingly.

“She's in a psychic trance,” explained Halo. “She should be fine so long as no one-”

The cargo hold's doors ground open, allowing a Parademon to come lumbering in; a metal crate the size of a small car was casually balanced on its shoulder. The Apokoliptan cyber-beast froze in its tracks, head tilting like a bemused dog at the sight of the boarders.

“Finds her,” sighed Halo.

The Parademon let loose a roar that shook the deck, hurling its crate at the interlopers like a cannonball. It was met by Terra's boulder, both projectiles splintering into jagged shrapnel.

“Go, find your friend!” Terra planted her feet in a battle stance. “I'll handle this!”

The Parademon pounced, fangs bared. Terra charged forward, the remains of her boulder forming around her into a jagged suit of rocky armor. Stone fists delivered an earth-shattering uppercut to Parademon's jaw, staggering the monstrosity.

“Go!” Terra stood between the Parademon and the physically helpless Miss Martian, only her copper-brown eyes showing behind the stone armor. “NOW!”

“Tara!?” Halo reached out to their friend, before Catra yanked their arm.

“You heard her! C'mon!” Carta dragged the Earthling down the open corridor, followed by a reluctant Glimmer and Bow.

The Parademon shrieked hatefully as it pounced again on Terra. Metallic talons glinted blood-red in the crimson light, sparks flashing as metal talons met stone.

*

Halo ran through the hellishly overheated corridors of the Apokoliptan warship, sweat pooling stickily under their costume. Catra's pin-prick claws dug into their arm. “Stop!” Halo dug in their heels, yanking Catra to a full stop. “We have to go back for them!”

“There's no time!” Catra snapped back. “The mission comes first!”

You mean your girlfriend comes first, Halo thought bitterly, disgusted by Catra's apparent willingness to trade Tara and M'gann's lives for Adora’s.

“Halo might be right, Catra,” Bow gently interposed himself between the two. “We might need Miss Martian's telepathy just to find Adora.”

“Oh, I can help with that!” a high-pitched voice squealed through the Halo's earpiece.

“Entrapta?” Bow winced, picking up the signal on his own voice-bead.

“I got a little antsy waiting for all of you, so I decided to keep myself busy by tapping into the Apokoliptan vessel’s internal sensor network!”

Bow blinked. “You hacked an alien warship?”

“I hacked an alien warship!” Entrapta squeed. “I'm pinpointing Adora's bio-sign now. Huh, that's weird. I'm detecting a major energy signature up ahead of you.”

“What kind of energ-” Halo trailed off, catching the sting of ozone in her nostrils.

“Hoooly moley!”

Black Mary came hovering out of the darkness, briefly lit by the occasional bolt arcing between her and the bulkhead. “You brats really are gluttons for punishment, aintcha?”

Catra rounded on Halo. “Rainbow, we need an exit!”

Halo rechanneled their frustration; their aura turned a blistering yellow as they blasted a burning hole through the ceiling.

“You and Halo go!” Glimmer charged her mage staff with light as Bow nocked an arrow. “We'll handle her!”

Mary grinned wickedly, cracking her knuckles. “Oh, you'll 'handle me', will you, pinkie?”

Catra hesitated. “Glimmer?”

“GO!” The mage-queen commanded. “Save Adora!”

“Thanks, Sparkles,” whispered Catra with a small smile, disappearing into the still smoldering hole with Halo hot on her bare heels.

“Well, kiddies,” sneered Mary. “We gonna dance or what?”

Glimmer and Bow said nothing, keeping their weapons trained on the Fury.

“Fine, I'll go first,” snipped Mary, before charging like a bullet.

*

Big Barda studied her security consol. “The felinoid and the aberrant Motherbox are in the maintenance tubes. Should I dispatch more Parademons to intercept?”

“Why bother? They'll come to us soon enough,” scoffed Granny. She casted a backwards glance at a third figure, shrouded in shadow. “Isn't that right… dearie?”

*

Catra slinked silently through the labyrinthine maintenance tubes of the Apokoliptan warship. Her companion taking up the rear was somewhat less silently.

“Ow!” Halo gasped sharply, catching their knee. “Sorry.”

“Don't worry,” hissed Catra. “I'm sure they won't hear it over the sound of your eyes boring into the back of my head.”

“Those are your friends back there too?” Halo whispered. “Don't you even care?”

“Of course, I care, but they would do the same for Adora. I don't expect you to understand what she means to m-, to us.”

Halo's eyes softened, wondering what they'd do if it was Harper in Apokolips’ clutches.

“Entrapta, can you get a read on Adora's position?” Catra asked.

“Yes! But also, no!” Entrapta's voice trilled through Catra and Halo's earpieces. “I think she's somewhere in the chamber below you, but her reading are-KZZZT!”

“Entrapta? Entrapta!?” Catra tapped her earpiece, glancing back at Halo as she tore an underlying panel loose. “Looks like we're on our own, Rainbow.”

A fall from this height would probably have broken an ordinary human’s leg, or at the very least, badly sprained their ankle. Yet Catra landed with almost casual grace upon the metallic grill plating. Halo followed, floating down on an orange aura, their warm light failing to reach the shadowed walls of the cavernous chamber.

“Another cargo hold?” Halo asked, touching down. “Or some kind of meeting hall?”

Catra bent down to touch what seemed deceptively like rust covering the flooring: dry, red with a faint metallic scent. It was not rust.

“It's an arena.”

“Oh, what a clever little kitty,” echoed an unseen voice, sweet as sugar and toxic as arsenic. Blinding light flooded the vast circular chamber. “But I prefer to think of it as Granny's School of Hard Knocks!” A silver-maned armored woman gazed down from a balcony overlooking the arena, a cruel leer playing upon her ruby-black lips.

“Granny Goodness...” Halo whispered fearfully.

“Oh look, Barda, the freak Motherbox made itself a freak friend,” trilled Granny. “Isn't that just nauseatingly adorable?”

Halo felt their blood boil, aura flashing a hot yellow.

“Enough!” Catra bared her claws. “Where's Adora?!”

“Adora... Adora?” Granny tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I'm afraid there's no one by that name here, child.”

Catra snarled as she pounced at the balcony, claws ready to rip that condescending smirk from the Apokoliptan's wrinkled face, only for searing agony to surge though her body as she was sent flying back by an invisible energy field.

“Catra?” Halo's aura shifted back into orange as they caught the felinoid in mid-air, easing her to the ground. “Are you okay?”

“I'll live,” groaned Catra weakly, clutching her side.

“Careful, naughty kitty's get punished,” drawled Goodness, reaching for a control console. “Speaking of, perhaps you'd like to meet Granny's newest pet?”

A heavy door on the far side of the arena rose, revealing nothing but inky darkness beyond. From the void stepped an eight-foot-tall warrior armor-clad head to toe in ebon and crimson, her face hidden behind a pale skull-like helm.

“Behold my latest Fury, a new Apostle to carry the Gospel of Anti-Life to the farthest corners of the universe!” Granny grinned in demoniacal exaltation. “Behold… Despara the Despoiler!”

“So, you got yourself a new flunky,” snorted Catra. “Big whoop.”

“This is why I'm a dog person,” sneered Goodness. “Speaking of, Despara...”

The faceless Fury raised her hand, wordlessly summoning a blade of jagged crimson energy.

“Attack!”

The skull-helmed warrior surged forward with a silent snarl. Catra and Halo only Just managed to leap out of the way as Despara's energy sword cleaved the arena's metal walls. Halo peppered the attacking Fury with yellow bolts, before shifting their aura into orange and taking to the air.

Despara responded by reforming her energy sword into a spiked energy chain, whipping it about Halo's ankles before sending them crashing to the floor with a vicious yank.

A semi-dazed Halo managed to shift back to yellow, attempting to blast the crimson glowing chain loose as they were dragged across the metal grating towards the silently looming Fury.

“That's enough of that!” Catra snarled.

Despara turned from her prey to find Catra already in mid-pounce. Catra’s claws flashed as they struck, sending the Fury reeling and fragments of her skull-helm flying across the arena.

Catra raced to Halo's side, helping them to their feet as the energy chain around their ankles momentarily flickered out of existence.  “Come on, Rainbow. We gotta get outta here and find...”

Despara rose like a shade from the pits of Despondos. Shards of her skull-helm clattered to her feet like broken glass, revealing a pale ash-hued face: scalp shaved bare, eyes burning red yet cold and empty.

Catra's voice nearly died in her throat. “Adora?”

*

Miss Martian 'walked' through a landscape of oddly undulating hills. The ground beneath her ‘feet’ was a weird pinkish-grey sponge, laced with pulsing crimson veins. She kept her guard up, knowing someone or something was watching her even without eyes.

“M'gann...”

There was no flash of light, no puff of smoke, not even a ripple in the dim light. One moment the waste was empty and the next he was simply there, back turned, as though he had always been here, waiting here for her.

Conner.

M'gann braced herself for what was to come. No grinning gorgon or leering demon turned to face her. Only the gentle blue eyes and eternally boyish smile of the man she loved.

“Hi,” spoke M'gann, creating the illusion of sound.

“Hi,” the false Conner tried to choke back, only to buckle over in a coughing fit. Smoke billowed from his lips. He retched burning rivulets of molten magma that seared flesh and charred bone from within until all that was left was grey-white ash.

“No!? No no no!” M'gann whimpered, sifting desperately through the ashes. “Please, not again!”

<Bitter, isn't it?>

“Who's there?!” M'gann demanded angrily, sweeping the darkness.

<The inevitability of loss... hanging over every moment like a pall...>

“Who are you!?!”

Images that were not images assaulted M'Gann's mind; the Flesh Pits of Apokolips, where endless horrors were bred; the pale leering face of Desaad, Darkseid’s chief torturer and scientist; a briny vat in a lightless chamber containing a mass of engineered bio-matter, a prison of blind meat for a terrifyingly powerful mind, a shapeless unformed...

<The word you're looking for is 'Lump'.>

“GET OUT OF MY MIND!!” M'gann cried. She tryied to lunge forward only to find herself already ankle deep in the sucking pinkish-grey sponge.

<Your mind?> The Lump tittered as M’gann began to sink to the psychic mire. <Where do you think we are?>

*

Catra stared in horror at the empty-eyed specter that was once the woman she loved. “What... What did you do to her?”

“Only what I do for all my lost little lambs,” sneered Goodness. “I hollow out their hearts and minds until they're cold and empty, then fill their aching voids with Granny's love.”

Despara charged forward with a cry of wordless fury. The brainwashed Princess of Power's burning blade morphed into a spiked mace as she raised it high, ready to come crashing down on a frozen Catra.

Halo leaped between the two Etherians, aura bright red as they summoned a scarlet energy shield to protect the stunned Catra. Despara's mace struck the shield like a thunderbolt, sending crimson sparks flying.

“Glorious, isn't she?” Goodness thrilled, watching Despara continue to hammer mercilessly upon Halo's shield. “Watch your back, Barda. This one might just take your job.”

“Yes, Granny,” replied Barda tonelessly.

Halo's bones shuddered as their shield shattered, recoiling from the feedback as they fell to the floor beside Catra. Despara stalked forward, expression utterly blank as she raised her mace for the final blow.

*

Shimmer, or whatever her stupid name was, cried defiantly as she unleashed a swirling circle of glowing violet glyphs. The cantrip dissipated against Mary’s black clad form like a puff of mist. Pathetic.

“What was that supposed to do, turn me into a frog?” Mary slapped the pink-haired wannabe mage aside with a flick of her wrist. “I can’t believe what passes for a sorceress on this glitter ball.”

Arrow boy fired off a taser-arrow. Black Mary caught the pronged projectile in mid-air, mere inches from her chest. A million light-years from Earth and the galaxy was still infested by idiots who thought they could fight gods with a fucking bow and arrow. Before the archer had time to even register what had happened, Mary already had him pinned against the bulkhead.

“Too slow,” she taunted.

“W-Why are you doing this?” Arrow-boy grunted.

“Why? You want to know why?” Mary snarled, the sheer audacity of this punk. “Because I need this power, because it’s the only thing I have left, and I won’t risk losing it!”

“You’re doing all this for some stupid magic powers!?”

“You… you don’t understand! How could you? You don’t know what it’s like to be a goddess, then have it all stripped away!” Mary’s voice faltered. “I can’t go back. I’ve already betrayed everything and everyone I’ve ever loved. I haven’t reverted in almost a year because I’m afraid I’ll never be able to look at my true self again without retching. I… I hate myself and…and…” She reeled under the onslaught of her emotional damn finally breaking. “Why am I even telling you all this unless…” The pink girl’s cantrip; a truth spell!

The pink-haired mage bolted back to her feet. “Whatsthenameofthewizardwhogaveyouyourpowers?!”

*

The Lump watched with wicked glee as the Martian’s astral form sank further down into the roiling psychic slurry, literally mired in her own fears and doubts. The interloper made one last desperate attempt to wrench herself free, only to be finally sucked down into the toxic abyss.

A triumphant psychic roar echoed across the astral plane. Once again, the Lump was supreme, supreme in its own mindscape. Out there, on the material plane, it was just a shapeless pile of neural tissue, engineered in the flesh-pits of Apokolips. But here… Here it was God!

<My, don’t we have quite the superiority complex?>

The Lump roiled in shock. The Martian’s astral avatar floated in the void behind it, serene and untouched. But how? How did she survive-

<A psychic attack targeting my insecurities? Yeah, no one’s ever tried that before.> The Martian rolled her eyes. <I should thank you though. The truth is I have been avoiding Conner lately, and until you came along, I didn’t even realize why.>

The Lump coiled for another attack, only to find itself sinking into the bog of psychic sludge.

<When I get back to Earth, I promise I’m going to make it up to him. I’m going to make every second of our time together count, no matter how many or how few we have left.>

The Lump loosed one last psychic howl before it was subsumed completely by its own despair and self-loathing.

The Martian smirked without lips. <But it looks like you have your own issues to work through.>

*

The glowing mace in Despara's grip flickered out of existence like a dying candle. It was followed by the Fury's eight-foot armor-clad form, leaving Adora to crumple to the floor a like a stringless marionette.

“Adora!” Catra raced to the fallen Princess' side, cradling her girlfriend's limp head. “It's going to be okay,” sobbed Catra weakly. “We'll get you back to Bright Moon and Sparkles or Razz or whoever will fix you, and everything will be fine! You'll see...” Catra's fingers entwined Adora's. “Promise, remember?”

“Catra, watch out!” Halo yelled, before they and Catra were sent hurling across the arena by a crackling energy bolt.

“Hands off Granny's merchandise!” Goodness stalked across the arena, standing over the unconscious Adora like a lioness claiming her kill. She rose her still crackling Mega-Rod, taking aim at Catra and Halo once again. “Granny always has to do everything herself.”

Before Goodness could pull the trigger, the arena's heavy door was blasted off its hinges. Mary Bromfield came hopping over the smoky threshold, mumbling through the tightly woven wrappings binding her limbs and jaw, before face planting on the arena floor. Glimmer, Bow and Terra leaped over the fallen Fury, weapons drawn, powers primed as Miss Martian's wraith-like from rose from the deck behind Goodness.

Miss Martian smirked. “You were saying something about doing everything yourself, Goodness?”

Glimmer's eyes widened at the figure lying at Goodness' feet “Bow, is that...”

“Adora?” he finished.

“Well, far be it from Granny to overstay her welcome,” sneered Goodness. “Fatherbox, initiate extraction protocol!”

BOOOOOM!!!

BOOOOOM!!!

BOOOOOM!!!

Three simultaneous Boom-Tubes opened beneath Goodness and her Furies, including Adora, swallowing the lot of them up in flash of hellish light before vanishing as abruptly as they had appeared.

“NOOOOO!!” Catra cried, clawing frantically at the bare grating where Adora had just laid.

“Self-Destruct activated: you have ten seconds to appreciate Granny's love...” echoed Goodness' simulated voice.

“Glimmer, prep to ‘port us out of here!” Miss Martian barked, taking charge of the situation. “Catra, we have to go!”

“Nine...”

“Nonono!” Catra muttered, still clawing futile at the metal grating. “We have to go after her!”

“Eight...”

“I'm sorry,” whispered Miss Martian, morphing her arms into constricting tendrils that dragged the feline towards the teleport circle.

“Seven...”

“NOOOOO!!!” Catra wailed, trashing against the Martian's grip. “I HAVE TO GET HER BACK!!!”

“Six...”

In the depths of the ship, something rumbled as the bulkheads began to buckle and warp.

“Oops! Granny lied!”

*

ZIN

May 17, 20:59 UCT

Granny Goodness - flanked by Big Barda and Black Mary - watched as a new star flared to life in the heavens above, before being swallowed by the void just a quickly. The moon's dusty copper green surface was momentarily turned an electric-blue by the light of the Godhead's radion reactor core annihilating itself.

Mary smirked. “Pretty.”

“My, Mary dear, aren’t we blasé?” Goodness drawled. “Those were your former comrades, after all?”

“There’s no love lost between me and Morse,” Mary said defensively, perhaps a little too defensively. “And I’d never even met rock-girl and rainbow-brite before yesterday.”

“Of course, child.” Goodness chortled before turning her gaze downward, to the prize lying still at her feet. The loss of the Lump meant she'd have to resort to subtler means of control but that was an inconvenience at most. She kneeled to stroke the still unconscious Adora's cheek.

“Rest now, dearie,” Granny cooed soothingly. “When you wake up, you're going to feel like a new woman.”

*

DARLA

May 18, 00:16 UCT

The black void slowly filled with a bright violet haze. It took a few blinks for Catra to realize the 'haze' was Halo standing over her, aura aglow. She bolted upright, or at least tried to before her muscles started screaming.

“Easy,” sighed Halo weakly as their aura dimmed. “You got hit pretty badly before Glimmer managed teleported us back. I healed you as best I could, but you might still be a little... tender.”

“I'll live...” Catra rose herself more gingerly from the bed. Much of her skin was raw and tingly, as though newly regrown. A quick glance revealed she was back aboard Darla, in the First One space craft’s small infirmary. Melog's head rested forlornly on her lap, purring soothingly. She ran her hand through the fey's shimmering mane.

“Melog hasn't left your side since we got back,” said Halo. “They’re really very sweet.”

“Where's everyone?”

“On the bridge but you should,-” Halo spoke as Catra pushed herself off the bed with a grown, brushing past them.

*

The low murmurs ceased the moment Catra limped onto the bridge. She leaned on Melog, who had doubled their height via shapeshifting to more comfortable accommodate her. Glimmer, Miss Martian, Bow, Terra and Entrapta turned to her expectantly.

“Catra!” Glimmer dashed forward to offer a hug, stopping short when she noticed how precarious Catra’s balance on her newly healed legs really was. “Are you okay?”

“Halo told us about...”' Bow's voice caught in his throat. “About Adora. I don't know what to say.”

“I don't need sympathy, I need to find her,” droned Catra. “Where do we go next?”

Glimmer and Miss Martian exchanged uneasy looks. “Catra, it's not that simple,” spoke the Martian softly. “There's no way to trace a Boom-Tube and-”

“Well then track their tech or something!” Catra barked, rounding on Entrapta. “You did it before!”

“I... I tried but... I couldn't find any other Apokoliptan signatures in orbit.” Entrapta winced, hiding behind a wall of tresses. Her voice barely a whisper. “I'm sorry.”

“You're sorry!?” Catra snarled at the Tech Princess. “Adora's been brainwashed by some sadistic alien gargoyle and you're 'sorry'? How can you be this useless!?”

“That is enough, Catra!” Bow placed himself between the two. “We're all upset about Adora but that's no excuse to take it out on Entrapta!”

“Fine, I'll take it out on her!” Catra rounded on Miss Martian. “You're supposed to be psychic! Why didn't you just read Goodness' mind to figure out where they went!?”

“It doesn't work like that,” Miss Martian said evenly. “I know Adora means a lot to you but-”

“You know nothing!” Catra snapped. Something still soft inside her squealed out in pain, making her nearly double over. Glimmer was the first to try and offer help, only to be frozen by a glare of pure venom from Catra. “Look at you, all of you! All your magic and tech and superpowers and you couldn't save one person!? You are all useless!”

Catra hobbled off the bridge with Melog at her side, brushing past the just arriving Halo. They watched as the automated door snapped close behind the feline Etherian.

“I take it that didn't go well?”

*

Useless... Worthless... I literally had her in my arms and I still couldn’t save her!

Catra hobbled through the ship's corridors. She was almost halfway to her and Ador-, her cabin before her legs finally gave out, sending her stumbling to the deck. She landed on her hands and knees, sending a fresh jolt of pain through lower body.

“DAMMIT!” She swore, pounding the deck weakly with her fist as tears began to well-up behind her eyes. “Dammit...”

Melog whimpered softly as Catra threw her arms about the fey's neck, weeping wretchedly into their shimmering mane.

“I'm sorry, Adora,” she sobbed. “I'm so sorry.”

Chapter Text

JUNGALIA

May 18, 00:16 UCT

Twin suns set on the tarnished Horde control spire. Its foundation was surrounded by a circle of barren ashy heath, sharp contrast to the lush scarlet jungle that covered the rest of the landscape. Even more than a year after the fall of Horde Prime, no native lifeform dared approach the abandoned spire. Which made it the perfect waystation for Granny Goodness.

She knelt before the Fatherbox at the center of a vaulting chamber, surrounded by dozens of tattered Horde banners, as a titanic holographic figure manifested above. Crimson pupils sat in jet-black sclera glared down upon Goodness with cold contempt. His lips curled in a smile suggestive of sensuous cruelty.

“Ah Granny,” he cooed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Lord Grayven,” Goodness spoke levelly, ignoring the undisguised condescension in his tone. “I have important news for Great Darkseid.”

“Now, Granny, you know it doesn't work like that anymore,” Grayven chided with a soft chuckle. “You report to me now. Anything I deem worthy of my father's attention I shall bring to him... in due course.”

Goodness kept her eyes locked on the floor to hide the sneer of distaste curling across her lips. Darkseid's third son had always been an entitled brat. But ever since returning to his father's right hand little over a year ago, Grayven had become utterly insufferable. Two years ago, before the unfortunate… incident aboard the Orphanage, she wouldn’t have had to grovel before this smirking bastard just to make a report.

No matter, her Dread Lord’s favor rose and ebbed like the tide, slow yet inexorable. Goodness would be ready when Grayven inevitably over-stepped himself in his father’s eyes. Until then… “As Darkseid wills.”

“That’s better. Now, tell me,” Grayven purred, steepling his fingers. “Where is our latest recruit?”

*

THE WATCHTOWER

June 01, 21:22 EDT

“Where is Adora?!” Catra’s claws raked across the polished conference table as Melog paced anxiously behind her seat.

“Please, Catra,” Glimmer said, coaxing her friend back into her seat. “I'm sorry she's just on edge. We all are.”

Catra slumped sulkily back into her seat. “Two weeks locked in this floating tin can will do that.”

“It's alright,” Tigress sighed, pretending not to have heard that last part. She sat opposite the three Etherians, flanked by Halo and a cross-armed alien warrior with hard red eyes staring out from behind his silver helm. “But to answer your question: we don't know yet. But we will; we just need more time.”

“All we've given you is time,” Catra said, her voice tight. “When are we going to get some results?”

“Never with that kind of discipline,” Silver-helm sneered coolly.

Catra side-eyed the warrior. “I'm sorry, who are you again?”

“This is Orion of New Genesis,” Tigress answered, gesturing to the New God. “Our resident expert on all things Apokoliptan.”

“That’s great,” Bow said hopefully. “Maybe you can help us plan a rescue mission to Apokolips?”

“A suicide mission, more likely,” Orion snorted. “Apokolips is no place for mortal infants.”

“Hey! The place I grew up wasn't exactly a bed of roses either,” Catra said. “We can handle it.”

“No, you can't,” Orion replied cuttingly. “The entire planet is a fortress, guarded by legions of Parademons and worse than Parademons, and He is always watching.”

“Orion,” Tigress said warningly. This was going badly enough without the New Genesisian war god actively antagonizing the already on edge Catra.

“'Oh no, Big Bad is sooo super scawey!'” Catra whimpered mockingly. “He won't be the first galactic god-tyrant we've taken down!”

“Catra,” Glimmer chided.

“No!” Catra rounded on the assembled Earth heroes. “What has this Darkseid creep actually done that has you all wetting your pants so badly?”

“Darkseid does not do, child,” Orion intoned knowingly. “Darkseid is.”

“That's not an answer!” Catra spat. “It's not even a sentence!”

“Darkseid's forces are spread across half the known Galaxy,” Tigress said, interjecting herself between the Catra and the Dog of War. “There's no guarantee Adora is even on Apokolips. Orion’s right, we can't risk it. Not without knowing for sure.”

“Then this is a waste of time,” Catra growled, storming out of the conference room with Melog hot on her bare heels.

“On that at least, we can agree,” Orion scoffed.

“Catra! Wait!” Glimmer cried, running after.

“Could you just excuse us for a minute?” Bow asked, before ducking out in turn.

Tigress waited until she was sure the Etherians were well out of earshot before rounding on Orion. “What the Hell was that?”

“You asked for my input, I gave it,” Orion replied dryly. “I'm not responsible for the feline's outburst.”

“That's not fair!” Halo leaped to their feet. “The love of her life is being held hostage by Granny Goodness. You, of all people, should know what that means.”

“Which is why I refuse to prolong her pain with false hope and empty promises. Now, if you will excuse me,” Orion rose, retrieving his Motherbox. “I have important matters to attend to on New Genesis.”

Ping!

Orion shot a glance at the living computer in his hand.

“She says you’re meeting Lightray by the Boiling Lake?” Halo translated.

“Yes, well…” Orion face went hot-pink behind his silver helmet.

BOOOOOM!!!

Orion stepped into the boom-tube without another word, sealing it behind him, leaving Tigress and Halo alone in the conference room.

“What now?” Halo asked warily.

“Let everyone cool off for tonight.” Tigress removed her mask, massaging her temples as she sunk into her chair. She was relieved to be finally at the end of a long day if nothing else. “We'll all feel better after a good night's-”

“Cyborg to Tigress,” the Watchtower's intercom chimed. “We have a situation.”

*

Catra curled up with Melog behind a rake in a maintenance closet just off the Watchtower's atrium. It was cold, dark and reeked of damp earth.  She fought down another sob as she stroked the alien fey’s ethereal mane, attempting to soothe herself as much as her companion.

“I really blew it this time, Mel,” she sniffed hoarsely. “The only people in the galaxy who can help us save Adora and I explode at them! Uuugh!” she beat the side of her head with the flat of her palms. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as she thought she deserved. “Why am I like this?”

Melog mewed sympathetically, licking a tear from the corner of Catra's blue eye. A swish of the automatic door filled the tiny closet with light, making Catra squint in irritation.

Glimmer smirked at Bow. “Told you she'd hole up somewhere dark.”

“Go away,” moaned Catra. “I'm not in the mood for a lecture about how I ruined everything. Not like you’d be telling me anything I don't already know.”

“We're not here to lecture you, Catra,” said Bow as he and Glimmer sat on the floor either side of Catra. “We're here because we're worried about you.”

“This thing with Adora is hard on all of us, but you especially,” added Glimmer. “I remember after you saved me from Horde Prime, she never gave up on you.”

“And we're not letting you give up on yourself either!” Bow enthused.

“We are going to get Adora back even if we have to march into Apokolips ourselves!” said Glimmer.

“Buuut... we'd probably have a better chance with the Justice League's help,” said Bow. “Soo...

“Fine, I get the picture,” sighed Catra, wiping her eyes as she rose. “Better go apologize to Tigress.”

*

“How long since the Outsiders last checked in?” Tigress asked.

“Over an hour,” answered Cyborg, running his fingers over a series of floating holo-screens as he interfaced with the Watchtower's mainframe. “Hate to start a panic, but maybe it's time to call in the Team?”

“Miss Martian and the rest of the Team are on Rann,” Tigress said. “Adam and Alanna Strange are convinced the Rannian Science Command’s been replaced by evil shapeshifters.”

“What about the League?” Halo asked.

Cyborg shook his head. “Half the League are dealing with the Enchantress in Turkey, and the other half are on Oa. We could try activating the League reserves, but the system’s not really designed for small scale stuff. Could take a while to organize a squad?”

“Artemis,” Halo said. “Tara and Forager were with the Outsiders.”

Tigress tensed, every muscle in her body wanted leap into the nearest Zeta-Tube with crossbow drawn and damn the consequences. But she knew anything that could take down the Outsiders wasn't something they could risk taking on half-assed. She also knew every second wasted only put the young heroes in more danger.

“Take us.”

Tigress turned to find Catra, Glimmer and Bow standing in the entrance way to the control room. “Excuse me?”

“We need you, you need us,” Catra answered. “Seems simple enough to me.”

Tigress' eyes narrowed suspiciously, turning to Halo. “You trust them?”

Halo exchanged a glance with the three Etherians before giving Tigress the nod. “I do.”

“Fine,” Tigress said. “Dress warm; we leave in fifteen.”

“Aw yeah! Earth Friend Squad to the rescue!” Bow whooped before his train of thought caught up with him. “Dress warm?”

 *

UNDISCLOSED

June 02, 01:56 UTC

Forager awoke upon a cold metal slab. Piercing white light lanced out of the void and into Forager’s all too sensitive eyes, adapted for life in the warm dark burrows of the Hive. Forager's Hive? The Outsiders!?

“Terra? Beast Boy? Wonder Girl?” Forager clicked into the pitch black surrounding the pillar of light. “Can Forager’s Hive hear Forager?! Does Forager’s Hive require Forager's assistance?”

No answer came from the dark. Forager was alone. Forager did not like being alone. On New Genesis, a lone Bug was a dead Bug. Forager tried to raise Forager’s self from the cold metal, only to find Forager’s six limbs straining against Forager’s own exoskeleton, as though pinned in place despite the lack of any visible restraints.

“What is wrong with Forager?”

“Localized artificial gravity field,” an unseen voice answered clinically. “Subject is currently experiencing gravity several times greater than planetary standard.”

Forager’s eyes nictitated quizzically “Who are you?”

“A Terran would be dead, organs ruptured, ribcage collapsed under their own weight. Subject only presents with immobility and mild distress.” The voice droned impassively. “Subject's exoskeleton must be especially robust.”

“What have you done with Forager's friends!?”

“Subject displays concern for its fellows, indicative of classic eusocial organisation.”

Forager strained against the invisible bonds, lungs burning as Forager struggled to lift a clawed fist.

“Subject is becoming increasingly agitated. Multi-Bot, administer sedative.”

Something whirled mechanically just outside of Forager’s reach, before a hiss of blue-green mist returned the hapless Bug to dreamless oblivion. Forager’s captor’s last words echoed through Forager’s mind.

“Multi-Bot, prep the subject for surgery.”

*

ANTARCTICA

June 02, 02:16 UTC

The Martian bio-ship, affectionately called 'Baby', sped unseen over the white wastes like an invisible arrowhead. Ensconced within the relative warmth of her cockpit, Bow struggled mightily.

“Ah-ha!” he crowed, finally slipping into the heavy boot that completed his thickly layered ensemble. “And you wanted to leave our winter gear on Etheria.”

“Good thing too,” Glimmer teased affectionately, similarly attired. “It's the only outfit you own without a mid-riff.”

Catra tuned out the couple's banter. She sat on the opposite side of the cockpit, clad in her old Horde furs, stroking Melog's glittering mane as she watched the cold barren landscape zoom past the bio-ship's viewport.

“May I join you?”

Catra's gaze rose to meet Halo's nervously smiling eyes. They, like Tigress, were clad in a snow-white insulated stealth-suit that was otherwise identical to their standard hooded uniform.

Catra shrugged. “It's your ship.”

“I just wanted to say you shouldn't pay any attention to Orion.” Halo took the empty seat. “He's what we call a 'glass half empty' kind of person.”

Catra cocked an eyebrow. “Half full of what?”

“You know, I’ve never been exactly sure. My point is you shouldn't give up hope.”

“Sure... Whatever.”

“I'm serious,” Halo answered forcefully, casting their gaze downward. “Two years ago, I was also abducted and enslaved by Granny Goodness.”

This turned Catra's head.

“She... used her machines to enslave my mind…” Halo’s voice was soft fury, their fists clenched. “Used me in some obscene attempt to enslave the entire galaxy, like I was just... just...”

“Just another cog in the machine…” Catra’s hand unconsciously reached for the small scar at the nape of her neck.

The scar was the only visible remnant of the control chip Horde Prime had used to enslave her along with half Etheria. It wasn’t something she could talk to Glimmer, Bow or even Adora about. They’d never been chipped, never been stripped of their individuality, never had to feel Prime forcing his vile thoughts and desires into their mind. Catra looked at Halo as though seeing them for the very first time.

“Yes, exactly.” Halo dabbed their eyes with the sleeve of their stealth-suit. “But my friends saved me. And I promise we'll help you save Adora too.”

“Careful, Rainbow.” Catra raised a weak smile. “I might hold you to that.”

“Listen up, people,” Tigress said, seated in the command chair. “Now that we're all suited-up, it's mission brief time.”

With a thought, Tigress summoned the holo-image of a slender boyish youth with olive-skin and dark gold curls. He was barefoot and wore a customized white and gold wetsuit; gill-slits ran down along either side of his neck. But his most notable features were the vast curving manta-like pinions that rose from his shoulder blades.

“Are those wings?” Glimmer asked.

“Fins technically,” Tigress answered. “Angelo del Rey, or 'Sea Angel' as social media likes to call him, was one of over three hundred meta-teens rescued from Granny Goodness' 'Orphanage' two years ago. Since then he's been operating as a local hero out of his hometown of Bunuru Bay, Australia. Not much super-crime in small town Oz so he mostly does search and rescue, charity swims, that kinda thing. Sweet kid by all accounts”

“Is he one of the Outsiders?” Bow asked.

Tigress shook her head. “Beast Boy and Wonder Girl tried talking him into joining a couple of times, but he's always turned them down. The Sea Angel is strictly local. At least he was until he disappeared three days ago; that's when his family contacted the Outsiders.”

“Now they're missing too,” Glimmer mused, gazing at the pale white expanse below. “Is this ‘Australia’? Doesn't look like the best place for a swim.”

“No, Glimmer,” Tigress chuckled. “Australia's about four thousand klicks north of here.”

“Then why are we here?” Catra asked.

“The Outsiders detected some unusual energy readings at Angelo's last known location,” Tigress explained. “They thought it might be an ion-trail from a ship.”

“So, they traced it here?” Bow asked rhetorically. “Makes sense.”

Tigress nodded. “Speaking of, Bow, can you try running a scan for anything unusual up ahead?”

“Uh, sure.” Bow timorously worked the unfamiliar technorganic console. He wasn’t used to dealing with tech that was so… gooey, but he picked it up quick enough. “Hold on, I think I have some kind of energy signature but...”

“But what?”

Bow's voice cracked. “I think it's Apokoliptan.”

*

Five specks trudged across the white wastes under the naked stars of a perpetual midnight; footprints trailed back to their cloaked bio-ship. Bow's face was buried in his tracker pad, flanked by Glimmer, Catra and Melog as Tigress covered the rear of the makeshift squad.

Tigress’ sharp grey eyes scanned the frozen horizon. “Any trace on that Apokoliptan signal, Bow?”

“I think it's somewhere in this direction,” answered Bow uncertainly, squinting at the pad. “Maybe.”

“Perfect,” Tigress muttered, clenching the grip of her crossbow.

A bright orange comet streaked across the black sky, alighting on the snow in the form of Halo. “Can't see anything from up above.”

Tigress nodded. “Okay, Bow, take point. Everyone else fan out and stay alert.”

The squad marched on in silence for a several minutes before Halo fell into step beside Tigress. “Are you okay?” they asked.

“I'm good. All this snow and ice just… brings back bad memories.” Tigress took a breath to center herself in the here and now. “Speaking of bad memories, how about you? You good?”

“Of course.” Halo cocked an eyebrow. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“I couldn't help overhearing what you said to Catra back on Baby. I know it couldn't have been easy dredging up all that old trauma. I'm proud of you, Vi.”

Halo gave a small self-conscious smile. “Thanks, Artemis.”

Tigress drew close, falling into a low whisper. “Just be careful how much you open up to Catra.”

“What, why?”

“She may have just lost the love of her life. I don't have to explain to you how that kind of pain can twist people up inside, make them... desperate.”

“You don't trust her?”

“If I were her right now, I wouldn't trust myself.”

“Everybody hold up!” Bow called, bringing the march to a halt. “That Apokoliptan signal just spiked! I think it's coming from bel-”

The ground began to rumble from somewhere deep beneath the ice, as though some titanic worm was rapidly burrowing its way to the surface.

“Everyone, scat-” Tigress tried to cry out before the packed ice abruptly erupted beneath the squad's feet. They'd just managed to throw themselves clear when a giant ball of spinning metal burst into the air.

Bow nocked an arrow as Glimmer summoned her mage staff. Catra flashed her claws as Melog coiled to pounce, mane flaring red. All four were poised to strike before...

“Hold your fire!” Tigress cried. “That's no Apokoliptan!”

The giant metallic ball chirped in delight as it rolled in the snow, excitedly circling Tigress and Halo like a lost puppy finally finding its family.

Halo patted the ball. “I'm glad to see you too, girl.”

Tigress holstered her crossbow. “Glimmer, Catra, Bow, Melog, this is Sphere; she’s kinda the Outsider’s main ride.”

Sphere rolled back and forth before the four Etherians, pausing briefly at each in turn before finally stopping at Melog and chirping curiously. Melog responded with a quizzical mew, experimentally batting at Sphere as though she were a giant ball of metallic yarn.

Bow stared in shock. “Is it- she… alive?”

“She's lucky to be.” Halo gently stroked Sphere's shining carapace, carefully avoiding a partly molten gash that was still in the process of sealing itself. “She must have entered stasis to heal.”

“Then whoever, or whatever, hurt her must have taken the Outsiders.” Tigress knelt to meet Sphere’s purple-red optic. “Can you take us to them, girl?”

Sphere chirped excitedly before taking off across the icy wastes at breakneck speed, the squad hot on her trail.

*

Multi-Bot scuttled across the ice, carried by softly skittering mechanical limbs as he shadowed the interlopers. Or rather, Scout-Drone-One-Six scuttled across the ice. Multi-Bot’s consciousness was distributed across hundreds of such drones of various models, tending the ship's systems as well as patrolling the sensor perimeter. With less effort than it took an organic to turn their head, Multi-Bot shifted the bulk of its attention through Medi-Drone-Two, currently assisting the Creator in the ship's surgical bay.

A gleaming laser scalpel hovered mere centimeters over the sedated form of the New Genesian 'bug', ready to make the first incision. The Creator always claimed the honor of the first incision, as was His right. The Creator had spoken with great admiration of the versatility of the insectoid's digestive tract. It pained Multi-Bot to interrupt the Creator's Great Work, but needs must.

“Creator, one of my scout-drones has detected a party of anomalous life forms approaching.”

The Creator paused, His voluminous form turning. “Specifications?”

“Seven in total,” Multi-Bot said tonelessly. “Five humanoids: two baseline, two bearing anomalous energy signatures, one feliniod. Two non-humanoids: one semi-corporeal and composed of anomalous energy, plus the New Genesphere that accompanied the first party of meta-Terrans.”

“Fascinating...” The Creator withdrew the laser scalpel. “It appears our arthropod friend here must wait until we've finished cataloguing these new specimens.”

“Query: was it wise not to mask our ion-trail from the indigenous life-forms?” The query made Multi-Bot uncomfortable, it was not its place to question. But did not the Creator Himself prize inquiry above all else?

“Multi-Bot, are you familiar with the Thanagarian vole?”

“Six-limbed omnivorous vermiform virtually ubiquitous across the Thanagarian Empire,” Multi-Bot recited after a quick search of its data-tracks.

“Correct.” The Creator spoke without praise, merely acknowledgement. “The Thanagarians employ a unique method of ensnaring the vermin, baiting their traps with live voles.”

Multi-Bot's single optic flickered quizzically. “I do not understand, Creator?”

“The voles are highly social creatures; the sound of one in distress brings the rest of the colony scurrying to assist. You see, the traps are designed to admit new voles while allowing no means of escape. Eventually, the traps become so overcrowded that the witless brutes simply asphyxiate each other.”

Multi-Bot marveled, suddenly grasping the perfect logic. “The Creator is wise in all things.”

*

Sphere skidded to a shrieking halt in the middle of a seemingly empty white plain. She chirped incessantly as she rolled back and forth, rapidly wearing a furrow in the white powder.

Halo alighted on the snow nearby, their orange aura fading as the rest of the squad caught up. “I don’t understand?”

“Isn't it obvious?” Catra stormed past Sphere and Halo. “Your weird space beachball is brok-OW!” She slammed face first into... something, recoiling with a hiss. “What the fuck!?”

Tigress stepped forward cautiously. Drawing an arrow from her quiver, she prodded the seemingly empty air. The arrow tip-tapped something with an unmistakably metallic clink, sending a ripple of visual distortion across the vast cloaked structure.

“Looks like we found our ship,” Tigress said. “Glimmer, can you get us in?”

The mage-queen shook her head. “My teleportation’s tied to the Moonstone back on Etheria. Without it, I can only do generic sorcery.”

Bow felt his way along the invisible hull. “Maybe there's an access hatch? …Aha!” He drew one of his own arrows, a flat screwdriver head popping from the pointed tip as he went to work.

Glimmer leaned towards Tigress. “Yeah, I don't know why he has that.”

Tigress shrugged. “Honestly, I've seen Green Arrow pull weirder things out of his quiver.”

Bow yanked a small metal panel from seemingly nowhere, revealing a mass of wires embedded in thin air. He deftly began tinkering in earnest. “Just one more...”

A metallic serpentine hiss filled the air, followed by a dull pained creaking as an airlock ground open, revealing inky blackness beyond. Melog sniffed the aperture warily, before darting behind Catra's leg with a growl.

Catra turned to Tigress. “After you.”

“Gee, thanks,” drawled Tigress, eyeing the doorway into darkness. As she gazed into the black, she couldn’t stop a snippet of Dante flittering across her mind.

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

*

The gloomy interior of the alien vessel felt, if anything, even colder than the snowy plains outside. Catra had to clench her jaw just to keep her fangs from chattering as she, Tigress, Glimmer, Halo and Bow crept cautiously under Melog's invisibility glamour. Tigress had insisted on making Sphere wait outside, to heal further and signal the Watchtower if they didn't return in a reasonable timeframe.

The circular almost burrow-like corridor was wide and vaulting, giving Catra the uncomfortable impression it was designed to accommodate something significantly larger than a typical humanoid. The squad had only made it about a hundred meters before the corridors branched in twain.

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,” Tigress muttered.

“What?” Catra asked.

“Never mind,” Tigress whispered. “We'll have to split-up.”

“Fine, we'll take the left.” Catra gestured to Glimmer, Bow and Melog. “You and Rainbow can take the right.”

“No, we go in squads of three,” Tigress ordered. “Halo, you’re with Glimmer and Bow. Catra, you and Melog with me. Radio check-ins every ten minutes.”

“Fine,” Catra sighed, taking Tigress' lead as the assigned squads divvied up down their separate paths. A cloaked Tigress, Catra and Melog stalked along the corridor with appropriately feline stealth for a few minutes, until Tigress silently gestured for them to halt.

Catra peered into the darkness. “Something up a head?”

“Not that I can see,” Tigress answered.

“Then why-”

Tigress rose from a crouching position, standing to look the Catra straight in her heterochromatic eyes. “Why are you here, Catra?”

“I told you back on the Watchtower: we help you save your friends; you help us save Adora.”

“Except you have no guarantee we'll actually help you save Adora once we get the Outsiders back. No offence, but you don't strike me as the trusting type. So, what's the real reason?”

Catra faltered, her mask of cold indifference slipping just a little. “Because it's... it's what she would do.”

“Good enough for me.” Tigress resumed her crouch. “Let's keep moving.”

“What, that’s it? You just trust me now? Why?”

“Let's just say you remind me of somebody I used to know. C'mon, I think there's a cargo bay up ahead.”

The three pseudo-felines slipped silently into the pitch-black chamber. Catra squinted into the void. She’d always prided herself on having excellent night vision but even her eyes needed some light to work with.

Tigress tapped the side of her mask. “Infra-red on my AR lenses is picking up machinery siphoning a lot of heat out of this chamber. Nothing like lifeforms though.”

“Meaning what, this is an alien refrigerator?”

“Have Melog decloak us.”

At Catra's nod, Melog brought the three of them back into the visible spectrum, filling the chamber with the pale faery light of their mane. The eldritch glow revealed a sight that made Catra and Tigress’ blood run cold.

“Oh my God,” Tigress gasped.

*

Elsewhere in the labyrinthine vessel, a hatch was blown off its frame by a blast of yellow and pink energy. Glimmer, Halo and Bow leaped through the billowing smoke, staff and arrows drawn, aura blazing yellow. Each struck a heroic pose that may have been a tad more dramatic then strictly necessary.

“Best Earth Friend Squad to the rescue!” Bow whooped as he swept the room, pausing to squint at the high table at the center. “Is that a giant bug?”

“Forager!?” Halo raced to the Bug's side.

“H-Halo? Forager knew Halo would come for Forager,” groaned the Bug weakly, trying to raise himself from the cold slab only to collapse again. “Apologies, Forager appears to be... stuck.”

“Looks like it's generating some kind of artificial hyper-gravity field,” Bow examined the machinery coiling about the operating table's underside. “I should be able to deactivate it, but I'll need a litt-” He was cut-off by a sparkling pink blast that instantly fried the alien circuity. “Glimmer!?”

“What? We're in a hurry!”

Halo helped Forager to his segmented feet. “Forager, these are Glimmer and Bow.”

“Forager is most grateful to new friend Glimmer and new friend Bow,” chirped Forager with a small bow. “But Halo, Glimmer, Bow and Forager must find the other Outsiders and leave immediately before-”

Forager's words were abruptly drowned out by a metallic scuttling filling the chamber's maintenance vents, rapidly building to a deafening cacophony like a thousand swarming metal spiders.

Forager clucked in resignation. “That happens.”

*

“What the fuck is this?” Catra swore fearfully.

At least a hundred cryogenic pods were arranged throughout the chamber. Pincer-like claws, sinuous tentacles, compound eyes and organs less describable floated suspended within glass cylinders of greenish preservative fluid. A handful of pods even contained organisms that were mostly intact.

Tigress tapped her comm. “Halo, grab Glimmer and Bow and get back to the extraction point now! Halo? Halo!?” She barked, only to be answered by hissing static. She grabbed the stunned Catra by the wrist, turning to the exit. “We need to move!”

“I'm afraid I cannot allow that,” a chill voice intoned.

Harsh acetic light flooded the bay. Tigress, Catra and Melog turned to find escape blocked by a hulking alien figure. He was wrapped in some sort of oilskin cloak that left only a hairless pale red cranium exposed.

“Fascinating,” he mused, serpent green eyes studying the feline trio from beneath beetled brow ridges. His face was thin and angular; his head was almost comically small in proportion to the bulk implied by his voluminous quivering cloak.

“Who the Hell are you?” Tigress trained her crossbow on the looming alien as Catra and Melog bore their fangs.

The alien smirked slightly. “Apologies, I have neglected the proper etiquette.”

His cloak began unfurling. No, not a cloak but wings... Sea Angel's wings. What lay beneath the vast manta pinions was pure horror, a hulking fleshy patchwork of alien limbs, tissues and cybernetics culled from at least a dozen disparate species.

“Galen Nycroft, late of the Ungaran Academy of Science, at your service,” He inclined his head mockingly, perched upon the heaving monstrosity. “And all that is best in you will soon be part of me.”

Chapter Text

THE WATCHTOWER

June 01, 23:56 EDT

Pure data flowed through the mind of Victor Stone, AKA Cyborg of the Justice League. He 'watched' via live feed as Doctor Fate (was it Khalid or Traci this week?) confronted the Enchantress over Göbekli Tepe in Turkey. The demon sorceress was using the Neolithic ruin as a focal point for… Well, Vic wasn’t honestly sure what she was trying to do. According to the Watchtower’s sensors, whatever she was doing was turning local space-time inside out.

He 'listened' to a coded subspace transmission from Rann reporting that the Team were now in pursuit of the head of the Rannian Science Command, who had fled into the capital’s sewers after morphing into a 'squid-snake'.

All this and more Cyborg did without screen or speaker, which didn't stop him physically doom scrolling through the Outsider's Flitter feed on his phone. Those kids had been good to Vic when he'd been in a bad place. He hadn't really appreciated it at the time but looking back, he wondered where he'd be now if not for them. He wondered if he'd be anywhere at all.

His train of thought was broken by a shrill ting from his internal chronometer. This was what he'd been dreading.

Tigress' squad just missed their check-in.

*

ANTARCTICA

June 02, 03:58 UCT

Halo, Glimmer, Bow and Forager formed a defensive ring in the middle of the alien ship's med-bay, weapons drawn, auras bright, pincers poised. Covering almost every square-inch of the chamber's ceiling and walls were countless silver beetle-like mechanoids. Each was perfectly still; each kept a single gleaming red optic locked on the interlopers.

“What are they?” Halo whispered, fists glowing bright yellow.

“I am Multi-Bot,” one of the mecha-bugs droned.

“I am also Multi-Bot,” another echoed.

“I am all Multi-Bot,” the entire swarm chorused.

“Forager thinks that must get very confusing for Multi-Bot?” Forager clicked.

“Not at all,” the Multi-Bots spoke in unison. “My AI has been programmed by the Creator Himself to operate multiple physical avatars at once.”

“A non-centralized processing system distributed among all your bots?” Bow lowered his arrow slightly. “I'm impressed, mostly terrified, but also impressed.”

“Yes, the Creator is wise. The Creator is perfect,” the swarm droned, its digitized voices tinged with quiet awe. “If judged worthy, your biological distinctiveness will be added to the Creator's perfection.”

“Yeeaah,” Glimmer drawled. “That's gonna be a hard pass from us.”

“The specimen's consent is not required.” The swarm skittered down the walls, descending like ravening locusts. “The specimens will submit to processing!”

*

“What have you done with the Outsiders?!” Tigress demanded, cold horror turning to hot anger as she trained dual crossbows on the alien monster that called himself Galen Nycroft. His Frankenstein bulk blocked the only exit from the spacecraft's 'body bank'. Catra and Melog flanked Tigress, growling low as they bared their fangs.

“The Outsiders?” Nycroft quizzically tapped his pointed chin with the tip of a massive barnacle encrusted claw, grafted to the left shoulder of his hulking torso.

From his right shoulder sprouted a mass of undulating black tendrils. A pair of thin humanoid arms dangled almost comically from mid-abdomen; an abdomen supported by three thin spider-like legs. But what most chilled Tigress was the billowing manta-ray wings rising from Nycroft's shoulder-blades, wings she recognised as having once belonged to the missing meta-teen known as Sea Angel.

“Ah, yes the band of young meta-Terrans,” Nycroft spoke clinically. “Unfortunately, I have not yet had time to properly... process them.”

“'Process'?! Is that what you call this?!” Tigress snarled, gesturing to the countless cryogenic tubes containing just as many extracted alien organs. “Hacking up people for spare parts?!”

“Now you sound like my so-called 'peers' back on Ungara,” Nycroft snorted derisively. “'Nooo, Galen, this procedure is too dangerous!' 'Wait, Galen, you can't do that without the subject's consent!' 'Stop, Galen, you're hurting me!'”

Tigress shot a discreet side-glance at Catra and Melog. The feline Etherians began quietly edging away.

“I have no patience for such parochial moralism,” Nycroft spat, clearly having rehearsed this speech many time before. “There is only one true universal law: adapt or die! I am merely taking charge of my own personal evolution.”

“Adapt this!” Tigress fired off twin blast-bolts from her crossbows as Catra and Melog shifted into invisibility.

Nycroft's eyes flashed bright green as a sack of grey matter grafted to the back of his skull pulsated. The twin blast-bolts froze in mid-air before being sent flying back at Tigress, who barely had time to duck behind a cryo-tube before they exploded.

“You can't outfight me. I possess the combined mental power of four superior species...” Two of Nycroft’s black tendrils whipped behind him like striking vipers, snatching Catra and Melog in mid-pounce before slamming them into the nearest bulkhead.

“And the brute strength of one stupid one.”

*

Energy bolts and trick arrows flew back and forth across the med-bay as more and more Multi-Bots flooded through the access vents. Forager rolled across the chamber like a wrecking ball, flattening drones under him by the dozen. Glimmer blasted a pouncing bot, only for another to leap onto the head of her mage-staff, clasping it like some ornamental silver crab.

“Why do you resist?” The Multi-Bot’s optic blinked. “Do you not wish to be one with the Creator?”

“EEEK!” Glimmer whacked the bot against a bulkhead. “Beau, hun. Can you please technobabble the creepy robo-spiders away!?”

“Working on it!” Bow’s eyes fell upon a terminal on the far side of the chamber. He smiled, pulling an oddly two-pronged arrow from his quiver. He took aim, only to have a Multi-Bot pounce on him from behind, sending the arrow flying wildly into the air. “Halo!”

“Got it!” An orange-glowing Halo snatched the arrow out of mid-air, blinking bemusedly at it. “Now what?”

“The terminal!” Bow gasped, pointing across the chamber as he was rapidly buried alive under a wave of scuttling bots.

“BOW!?!” Glimmer wailed in anguish from across the cavernous chamber.

Halo's eyes hardened like onyx, streaking across the med-bay like an orange comet. It took them bare milliseconds to cover half the distance to the terminal, before one of the spider-bots entangled them in a blue energy web. They hit the deck like a stone, aura shifting into yellow as they tried to blast their way out. The energy-web responded by counter-shifting into purple, neutralizing their yellow aura.

“Glimmer!” Halo cried, hurling the arrow with all the strength in their free arm.

The young mage-queen caught the payload with one hand as the other unleashed a storm of light, fragging wave after wave of Multi-Bots. Glimmer fought for every inch between her and the terminal, clutching Bow's arrow tight to her heart.

The mecha-swarm refused to abate, clawing and scratching at her with countless tiny metal claws. Glimmer was mere feet from the terminal when she felt a bot land softly on her shoulder, before discharging a crackling surge of white-hot pain through her body. The young mage fell to her knees before collapsing entirely, sending the arrow clattering across the floor.

“Ignorant fleshlings, you lost this battle before you even set foot on this vessel,” the Multi-Bots chorused coldly. “You thought you could defy the Creator, even out-think the Creator!? But the Creator mind is vaster than you can comprehend! The Creator sees all, the Creator knows all! The Creator IS ALLLLLLL-BZZTG-VRRR-%&$£@&£$!!!!!!”

One by one, the Multi-Bot's crimson optics began randomly cycling through the color spectrum before toppling over. Their spidery metal limbs twitched in the air like turned over beetles.

Glimmer groaned; her head hadn't pounded like this since Mermista first introduced her to the sea princess’ music collection. She bolted upright, one thought cutting through the fog of pain. “Bow!?”

The young archer had just detangled himself from a pile of helplessly twitching Multi-Bots, when Glimmer threw her arms around his neck.

“Don't ever scare me like that again!” Glimmer sobbed, lightly punching her ‘Beau’ on the arm.

Bow shrugged sheepishly. “Um... Sorry?”

“Not that I'm complaining but how are we still alive?” Halo asked, lightly brushing off the inert remains of the energy web.

“Virus-arrow, something Entrapta whipped up before we left Etheria,” Bow answered before taking Glimmer's hand. “We're just lucky you made it to the terminal in time.”

“But... I didn't,” Glimmer replied.

Bow frowned. “Then who?”

A slight click, almost like someone clearing their throat, echoed through the now silent med-bay. All eyes turned toward the terminal where Forager nonchalantly stood, twirling the virus-arrow in his pincer, having already delivered its payload.

“Forager caught Multi-Bot monologing. Classic bad guy mistake.”

*

Tigress squirmed under the weight of Nycroft's massive crustacean claw pinning her to the deck. She beat her fist futilely against the brine-encrusted pincer as Catra and Melog struggled in the grip of the alien organ thief's writhing tentacles.

“You display remarkable strength and speed for a baseline Terran,” Nycroft mused. “Perhaps I'll use you as a control?”

The lights above flickered and died without warning, plunging the 'body bank' into near complete darkness, lit only by the soft blue glow of Melog's mane.

“Multi-Bot, status report?” Nycroft demanded irritably. “Multi-Bot, respond!?”

“Don't you just hate it when you can't get through to tech-support?” Tigress quipped, before delivering a piston kick to the underside of Nycroft's distracted skull. The alien hulk swayed for a moment, eyes glazing over before toppling like a fallen redwood.

Tigress wriggled her way out from under the now limp claw. “Shoulda replaced that glass jaw while you were at it.”

She dashed to Catra's side only for the feline Etherian to hiss defensively as the Earther reached out. Tigress threw up her arms placatingly. “Whoa, easy there, killer!”

“Sorry… reflex,” Catra replied sheepishly.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fi-” Catra inhaled sharply, cradling her right shoulder as Melog whined sympathetically. “Actually, I think I broke my arm.”

Tigress carefully examined the wounded limb. “Halo should be able to fix this once we find them, so long as we set it first. All and all, could have been a lot worse.”

Catra chin pointed at Nycroft, an unconscious mass of mismatched alien flesh. “What about him?”

“No idea, he might come to in hours or minutes. Either way...” Tigress helped Catra to her feet. “Let’s find the others before that happens.”

*

Terra's eyes fluttered open. Feeling gradually seeped back into her body, her mind staggering to catch up. She remembered icy wastes, an ambush by an alien monster backed by an army of spider-like bots, and then? Her eyes snapped open as she remembered exactly where she was...

“Nē...”

She was in a pod.

“Nē, Nē, Nē!”

Tar... black tar... sickly sweet... invading her... altering her...

“Izlaid mani! IZLAID MANI!” Terra roared, pounding her fists against the pod's inner casing; somewhere deep below, the earth began to tremble. The hatch suddenly sprung open, sending her tumbling into Tigress' arms.

“It's okay, Tara, you're safe,” Tigress whispered, holding Terra tight. “Just breath, okay... I got you... I got you.”

Terra clung to Tigress' arms, waiting for her heart to stop racing as she steadied her breath.

“We've freed the rest of the Outsiders,” Bow said, abrupty walking in on the two Earthers. “Whoa, Terra? Are you okay.”

“I'm fine,” the Earth Princess answered, falling back into her usual laconic cool. “I just don't like pods.”

“Who does?” The speaker arrived arrived in a streak of yellow and red, kicking up dust from the deck plating as he skidded to a dead stop.

“What’s the sitch, Kid Flash?”

“Blue and Livewire got Modulok and what's left of his bots on lockdown in the main cargo hold,” Kid Flash reported.

Tigress raised an eyebrow. “Modulok?”

“You know, 'cuz he’s all modular and junk,” Kid Flash answered. “What, you want everbody thinking we were all nearly moded by some dork called 'Galen Nycroft'?”

“Fair enought,” Tigress conceeded. “We'll have ask GL about taking 'Modulok' and his bots into Corps custody later. In the meantime, KF, do another sweep of the ship, check in on Blue and Livewire, then meet us back at Baby.”

“Back in a flash!” Kid saluted before disappearing in another gust of air.

“Wow,” Bow gaped. “Doesn't he get hard to keep track off?”

“You have nooo idea,” Tigress snarked.

“What about Sea Angel?” Terra asked.

Tigress sighed. “We found him; he's alive but...”

*

Angelo del Rey wished he was dead.

No, he stamped down the thought, buried it under a layer of rationalization. He just wanted to sleep, to stop feeling for a little while. He had thought nothing would ever compare to the merciless despair of Granny Goodness' ‘Orphanage’. That was before he'd woken up in a pod with two new fresh scars running down his back.

He'd spent the last two years trying to put the horrors of the Orphanage behind him, trying to make something good come out of that nightmare. After the Justice League had returned him to Earth, he’d finally told his family he was trans. He figured if he’d survived the Orphanage, he could survive most anything. He’d even taken a crack at the hero game.

Now he sat in the cockpit of the Outsiders’ bio-ship, wrapped in a thick blanket they'd managed to scrounge from somewhere, staring blankly at his own reflection in a glossy black console. For the past two years, he thought he’d escaped despair’s hook, now he wondered if he ever really would.

“Cocoa?” Beast Boy asked, holding out a steaming mug.

Angelo blinked. It took him a moment to realize Beast Boy was talking to him, much less what he said. Normally, he’d have found a cute guy like Garfield Logan offering him cocoa flattering. Now it didn’t seem to matter, nothing did.

“Yeah... thanks, Gar...” he droned, taking the proffered mug.

“Hey, don't give up, Angelo,” Wonder Girl said, sitting next to him. “The League has all kinds of wizards and super-genius on call. Ed's dad, Doctor Cross, Zatanna... I'm sure one of them can help you!”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Gar interjected. “Just focus on healing for now. I can set up a few sessions with Black Canary if you want? You know, to get you started.”

“Yeah... sure...” Angelo mumbled.

“Hey,” Gar gave Angelo's shoulder a soft squeeze. “I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but you're gonna be okay, bro.”

*

In the bio-ship's rear compartment, Catra cocked a hypersensitive ear. Picking up every word from the cockpit. “How can they just lie to him like that?”

“Pardon?” Halo asked, looking up from Catra's freshly healed arm with glowing violet eyes.

“Nothing.” Catra flexed her arm experimentally, feeling only a faint twinge where moments ago had been grinding pain. Melog sniffed the arm before giving a small mew of approval.

Catra smiled thinly. “Not bad, Rainbow.”

Halo shrugged. “Just one of the perks of being a human Motherbox.”

“A mother-whatnow?”

“Long story. It's this whole cosmic space-opera thing that I'm not even sure I believe myself.”

“Does... Does it have to do what why Granny kidnapped you?”

Halo was quite for a long moment. “Sort of, I-”

Before they could elaborate, the rear hatch of the bio-ship dilated to admit Tigress, Glimmer and Bow. They were followed a moment later by Wonder Girl and Beast Boy exiting the cockpit.

“How's Angelo?” Tigress asked.

“I don't know,” Beast Boy answered. “Honestly, I think he's still in shock, might need more time to process, you know?”

“He asked us to contact his folks,” Wonder Girl added. “Try to prep them for all this.”

“And the rest of the Outsiders?” Tigress asked.

“Securing Modulok's ship,” Wonder Girl answered.

“Well, that caught on fast,” Tigress smirked briefly. “Cassie, you good to take over here. I hate to leave all this on your shoulders, but I need to get back to Lian before Will has to leave for work.”

“No prob,” Wonder Girl replied. “We got this covered.”

“Thanks.”  Tigress turned to Halo. “Vi, mind if I bum a Boom-Tube back to Star City?”

“Sure,” Halo answered as they and Tigress stepped back out onto the icy plain, leaving Glimmer, Bow, Catra and Melog with Wonder Girl and Beast Boy.

“Sorry, I don't think we got properly introduced yet,” Wonder Girl said, turning to the three Etherians. “I'm Cassie, this is Gar.”

“Great to meet you, I'm Glimmer. And this is Bow, Catra and Melog.”

“Crash codenames,” Wonder Girl said.

Bow blinked. “Codenames?”

“From Etheria, right?” Beast Boy asked. “M'gann told me all about you guys. You really saved our butts tonight.”

“D'aww!” Bow blushed. “It was nothing really.”

“So where have they been keeping you guys?” Wonder Girl asked.

“The League set us up with a couple of suites on the Watchtower,” Glimmer answered.

“Wow, really? You guys okay with that?” Wonder Girl’s brow furrowed. “I mean, the Watchtower's a crash place to visit but I’m not sure I'd want to actually crash there.”

“No, no, it's fine, really! There's a nice atrium where we can watch the stars. Plus, it's quiet,” Glimmer sighed. “So very very quiet.”

Beast Boy tapped his chin. “I might have an idea!”

*

HOLLYWOOD

June 04, 21:08 PDT

Recognized:

Glimmer-A-Five-Eight,

Bow-A-Five-Nine,

Catra-A-Six-Zero,

Melog-C-Zero-Six.

The four Etherians stepped out of the golden glow of the whirring Zeta-Tube; the three of them with arms carried an assortment of duffel bags and travel cases between them. Bow whistled low, taking in the spacious living area before her.

“As KF might say... Ta-da!” Beast Boy greeted them enthusiastically, flanked by three Earth youths the Etherians didn't recognize at first. “Welcome to the Outsider's super-styling super HQ, or as we like to call it… ‘the Hub’.”

“This place is amazing, Beast Boy,” Glimmer said. “You sure you don't mind letting us stay here?”

“Nuestra casa es su casa,” Beast Boy answered. “I cleared it with Cassie, and the two of us agreed. After how you guys saved our butts from Modulok, you can all consider yourselves honorary Outsiders. And please, call me ‘Gar’.”

“Ahem,” interjected the pink-haired, dark-skinned girl next to Beast Boy. “Gar, babe, aren't you forgetting something?”

“Hello, Megan!” Gar chuckled, slapping his forehead. “Glimmer, Bow, Catra, meet my angel, my inspiration, my girl, Jill Jackson!”

“D'aaw,” the pink-haired girl cooed, pecking Gar's cheek. “You're such a cornball.”

“It's very 'crash' to meet you, Jill,” Bow said. “Am... am I using that right?”

“More or less,” she giggled.

“Cool!” Bow noticed the small pink, white and blue button on the young woman's jacket, wondering if that meant anything on Earth.

“Halo, Forager, Looker and Windfall are out on mission, but let me introduce you to the rest of our residents,” said Gar, gesturing to a slim girl in black leather with shock-white skin and electric-blue hair. “Y'already know Livewire from Antarctica.”

“Call me Leslie.” Livewire shot the newcomers the ‘finger guns’, electricity sparking from the tips of her nails. She then threw her arms about an olive-skinned teen with a silver-white bobcut. “And this is my girl, Andie.”

Andie waved shyly. “Hi.”

“Oh, my gosh, you two are such a cute couple!” Glimmer squeed, leaning into Bow as the two intwined fingers. “I remember when my Beau and I first-”

“Where's my room?” Catra cut-in like a knife.

“Uh, next level up,” Gar answered awkwardly. “It's got your name on it, literally. I can sho-”

“I can find it on my own,” Catra said curtly, slinging a duffle bag over her shoulder.

“Catra, wait!” Glimmer pleaded as she and Bow quickly decoupled.

“We didn't mean-” Bow began.

“It's fine,” Catra said icily, casually leaping onto the upper level's rail. “Have fun with your new friends, maybe you can triple date.” She disappeared over the rail with Melog hot on her bare heels, leaving a long awkward silence in her wake.

“Yikes,” Leslie drawled. “What's her damage?”

“Didn't you read Miss Martian's mission report, Les?” Andie asked. “Her girlfriend was captured by Granny.”

Leslie gasped. “Oh shit, seriously?!”

“I can't believe my brain went into neutral like that,” Gar groaned. “All this coupling must've made her feel like carp.”

“Should we go say something?” Jill asked.

“It's okay, really,” Glimmer sighed. “Catra just needs some time to cool off.”

At that moment, a bullet of golden fuzz streaked out from between Gar's feet, excitedly circling the Etherians as it yip-yapped in delirious delight. Glimmer and Bow's eyes went wide as saucers.

Glimmer squealed. “What. Is. THAT!?”

“That is my wingman, Wingman!” Gar lifted the hyperactive Corgi, stubby legs furiously dog-paddling in mid-air, tongue lolling from a drooling grin.

“May we?” a smitten Bow pleaded, extending his hand.

“Go right ahead,” Gar laughed, before Wingman was lost in a deluge of head rubs and ear scritches.

*

Catra made a third sweep of the spacious guest room, utterly ignoring the sparkling panoramic view of the vast city called 'Elay'. She was far more focused on any out of the way nooks where surveillance tech might be discreetly tucked away.

Melog tilted their head, mewing quizzically.

“You'd be paranoid too, if you grew up in the Fright Zone,” Catra countered, tapping the skirting board suspiciously. There wasn't much more she could do without ripping the fixtures from the walls; that would just raise more suspicion. “What about you, picking up any scrying spells or magic whatever?”

Melog sniffed the air, pausing thoughtfully before shaking their glittering mane in the negative.

“That'll have to do.” Catra activated the holo-console on the corner desk as she sifted through her duffel bag. She fished out a small metallic green sphere, carefully hidden among her spare outfits, tapping a hidden switch as she placed it on the desk.

The tiny sphere sprung to life, sprouting three coppery spider-legs as it skittered manically about the desk. 'Emily Jnr', as Entrapta had called the tiny bot, beeped in delight at the joy of dawning consciousness. It nearly went careening off the desk’s edge before Catra blocked it.

“Hey, focus!” Catra admonished.

Emily Jnr paused, eyeing Catra with a single purple optic.

“I need you to hack the Justice League's network.”

Emily Jnr beeped enthusiastically, releasing a fibre-optic cable that dug into the holo-console, summoning streams of data.

“Get me everything the League has on Apokolips, Granny Goodness... and Halo.”

*

GOODE WORLD STUDIOS

June 10, 01:08 PDT

Building 16's metal canopy grinded open with a thin metalic wail to reveal the night sky over Burbank, inky black yet tinged with a fluorescent orange haze. The aperture gaped open like a carnivorous flower for at least ten minutes before grinding shut. A moment later the very air within the seemingly empty warehouse rippled as a strange ebon vessel decloaked. Its design was alien and angular, without a single curve or softened edge. Beneath the black hull plating, crimson power-coils pulsed like the veins of some voidborn predator.

The alien vessel hissed as it lowered its landing ramp, allowing half a dozen darkly clad yet distinctly earthly figures to disembark. They split off in pairs, each carrying a heavy metallic crate between them. Overlooking the whole operation from the upper catwalk, stood Whisper A'Daire, Intergang’s reigning underboss. Her serpent-green eyes tracked each of the workers below like an adder tracking field mice.

“Just got word from Kobra,” spoke a younger dark-haired woman with features very similar to Whisper's own. “Their people will be here in about two hours to complete the buy.”

Whisper nodded. “Good, check in with our lookouts every ten minutes.”

“You sure it's a good idea to seal the deal here?” the younger woman asked, casting a glance about the old warehouse “This place kinda has a history.”

“Relax, sis,” Whisper chuckled. Her younger sibling always was a worrywart. “The 'Good Guys' know we know they know about this place, so they'd never think to-”

A smoke grenade abruptly went off in Whisper's face, blacking out her field of vision and choking her lungs. She staggered out of the billowing cloud, one hand clinging to the catwalk's rail. Her vision finally cleared, only to be confronted by a snarling panther stalking down the catwalk. Though last time Whisper checked, panthers didn't glow neon red.

“Shit!” she swore, unhooking a black metal rod from her belt. A serpentine coil of crimson energy ignited from the hilt as she prepared to lash out at the shimmering beast.

“I wouldn't,” a cold voice spoke from somewhere behind her.

Whisper spun on her heels to find her sister locked in a chokehold like a human shield, held captive by an orange-furred cat-girl with heterochromatic blue/yellow eyes. The workers below immediately pulled their sidearms on the cat-girl, only to be stilled by a gesture from Whisper.

“Little late for FurCon, aren’t you, kid?”

“Whisper!?” the younger A’Daire gasped, before ‘Catgirl’ gave her arm a sharp wrench.

“Stay frosty, Scorpia,” Whisper chided.

Catgirl snorted at some private joke, side-eyeing her hostage. “Your name is 'Scorpia', seriously? Man, what are the odds?”

Whisper’s lip curled. “You have no idea who you're playing with, kid.”

“Actually, I do. Intergang, interstellar arms dealers who traffic in illicit off-world tech, mostly from Apokolips.” Catgirl’s voice turned to ice. “And I am not playing.” She traced her claws across Scorpia A’Daire's throat, drawing tiny crimson beads and pausing perilously close to the jugular.

“You're bluffing,” Whisper said.

“Wanna try me?”

Whisper's fist clenched about the hilt of her weapon. Her glare locked on Catgirl’s blue/yellow eyes, empty save for cold desperation. Whisper knew that look well; it was the look of someone with nothing to lose. Then she glanced at Scorpia's eyes, brimming with barely supressed panic.

“What do you want?” Whisper sighed.

“I like your whip,” Catgirl chirped.

Whisper scowled, deactivating the weapon before kicking it over to Catgirl’s feet. “Happy?”

“It's a start. I want you to deliver a message to your contact on Apokolips.”

“What kinda message?”

“Tell them I want to make a deal,” Catgirl intoned. “Tell them I can give them the Anti-Life Equation.”

Chapter Text

APOKOLIPS

June 18, 13:13 UTC

The howls of a hundred thousand Hunger Dogs thundered across the Terrordrome. The broken remains of the last challenger were dragged from the arena, leaving a dark wet trail barely distinguishable from the rust red sand.

“Therrre you have it, folks!” an oily sonorous voice rolled across the arena. “Looks like Brola the Butcher just became Brola the Butchered! Just the latest to fall before your Champion - and mine - the Scourge of Apokolips, the son of Almighty Darkseid Himself… Kalibak the Crrruel!”

The aforementioned Kalibak stood at the very center of the arena, hulking and brutish, energy crackling about his hefty Beta-Club. He threw back his shaggy mane, unleashing a roar of triumph that was echoed by the cheering crowd.

Far above in his private booth, Lord Grayven watched the whole performance with undisguised disdain. He held up a silver goblet, signalling his mute, white-robed attendant to replenish the tawny liquid. “All these centuries and my elder brother hasn’t changed a bit. But then nothing on Apokolips ever really changes, does it?”

“Apokolips is eternal, Lord Grayven,” Granny Goodness cooed, reclining in a poofy acid-green gown.

“Calcified, stagnant,” Grayven rasped. “Wallowing in its own degeneracy while its Lord locks himself away, tinkering with formulae and equations.”

Granny winced visibly. If anyone else had dared voiced such brazen blasphemy in her presence, she would have opened their throat without a second thought. But it was not for her to judge the favored Son of Dread Darkseid.

Grayven smiled, relishing her obvious discomfort before turning back to the arena. “Ah, now the real show begins.”

“Sixteen challengers and sixteen victories in a single day!” the unseen announcer drawled. “I wonder if our Champion is up for round seventeen, or perhaps he’d like to quit while he’s ahead?”

Kalibak’s lips peeled back in a tusked snarl. “I’ll take on anyone or anything you can throw at me, you yapping jackal!”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn him, folks,” the announcer crooned as a blast door on the far side of the arena slowly grinded open. “Intrrroducing our latest challenger, and newest addition to dear old Granny’s fighting Furies… Despara the Despoiler!”

The ebon-clad Fury strode into the arena, wielding a sword of crimson fire. If the jeers and hisses of the baying crowd had any effect on Despara, no sign of it could be seen beneath her bone white skull-helm.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Kalibak beckoned her. “Impress me!”

Without a single word, Despara surged forward. Her burning blade flashed as she brought it down like some dread angel of war. Kalibak’s Beta-Club managed to parry her first blow, which only made her second all the more furious. Sword and club clashed again and again, sending sparks flying in every direction, until a lucky hit from Kalibak sent Despara hurling into the heavy adamantine arena walls.

“Oooh, that must smarrrt!”

Far above, Grayven’s thin lips drew back in displeasure.

“Is that it!?” Kalibak threw his arms wide, playing to the howling crowd. “This is supposed to be sport!”

Despara rose to her feet with ghostly silence. She split her energy sword into two smaller scimitars, charging full-speed across the arena.

“Looks like our little Fury wants to go out in a blaze of gory glory, folks! Well, who are we to deny her?” The announcer trilled with undisguised glee.

Kalibak roared as he charged forward to meet the challenger, Beta-Club held high.

“Die for Darkseid, brrrave soldier-girl!”

As the two combatants came within arm’s reach, Kalibak swung his Beta-Club. The crackling bludgeon would have taken Despara’s head clean off, had she not dived at the last moment, sliding past Kalibak’s trunk-like legs and slicing through the behemoth’s ankle tendons. Kalibak howled in agony as he tumbled face first into the red sand.

“What an upset!? But wait, folks… the show’s not over yet.”

Kalibak tried to drag himself towards his fallen Beta-Club, only to have the weapon cruelly kicked out of reach. The tip of Despara’s flaming blade hovered mere inches from his throat. The triumphant Fury removed her skull-helm to reveal red-ruby eyes set in a grim ashy visage, dark-blond hair shorn close to the scalp.

“Yield, Kalibak,” she spoke.

The baying of the Hunger Dogs filled the air, all loyalty to their former champion quickly forgotten.

“GUT HIM!”

“MAKE HIM BLEED!”

“STICK HIM LIKE A PIG!”

The crowd’s howling rose like an oncoming wave; they demanded pain, they demanded blood, they demanded death.

“I said yield!” Despara demanded again.

“I’ll die first!” Kalibak spat.

N ᴏ .

The Word was cold and eternal as the void. It rolled across the arena like thunder yet was soft as death. Though even Death himself would not have provoked such dread reverence in the thousands of baying Hunger Dogs who fell suddenly silent. Despara turned her head slowly, knowing she might be struck down at any moment, as was His right.

He stood atop a floating crimson energy platform high above the arena, eyes smouldering like the fire pits themselves in His visage of ageless granite. He was the Lord of Apokolips, the God of Gods, the one true Master of the Universe…

Darkseid.

Yᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴅɪᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ I sᴀʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴇ, Kᴀʟɪʙᴀᴋ.

Despara prostrated herself on the blood-soaked sand, trying not to retch as the stale iron reek of past battles assaulted her. She silently prayed the Lord of All Things would forgive her the affront of gazing upon His Presence unbidden.

“Father…” Kalibak mewled, trying to stagger to his knees. “I… I will grow stronger. I will learn from this defeat, I promise you!”

Iɴᴅᴇᴇᴅ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ғᴀɪʟᴜʀᴇs…

The Almighty’s eyes suddenly blazed to life.

Iɴ ᴛʜᴇ Aɢᴏɴʏ Mᴀᴛʀɪx.

“WAIT, FATH-” Kalibak tried to plead before the Omega Beams struck, curving about him in defiance of all conventional physics.

Despara screwed her eyes shut against the burning light. By the time she worked up the courage to reopen them, the only evidence that Kalibak had ever existed was a black glassy smudge in the red sand. She kept her gaze firmly downward.

The Lord of Apokolips regarded the prostrate Fury silently for a moment. His energy platform carried Him back into the roiling ash clouds above, back to His dark heaven.

In his private booth, Grayven observed the entire melodrama wordlessly before rising from his throne. “Goodness, walk with me.”

*

Despara stood by a wide window, her own reflection staring back. Shorn of her eight-foot-tall god-form and in the standard uniform of a Fury cadet, she was a significantly less imposing sight. Far below, thronging Hunger Dogs filed sluggishly from the Terrordrome into the grime-encrusted streets, back to their assignments in the war factories.

“There but for the Grace of Darkseid…”

“Granny?” Despara instantly snapped to attention at her mentor’s voice. "I was just-”

“Wondering what might have been?” Granny Goodness chuckled, standing at her protégé’s side. “To think had I not seen your potential and rescued you from the slums of Armagetto as a child, you might have grown up to be one of those nameless wretches.”

“I’m grateful to you, and Great Darkseid. I just wish I could remember what my life was like before…”

“The attack? Your memories still haven’t resurfaced then?”

Despara shook her head. It had been weeks since she awoke in the Orphanage under Granny’s care, with no memory of her past life. An ambush by New Genesis backed insurrectionists, she’d been told. Despara had fought valiantly in her mentor’s defence but had been struck from behind by one of the cowardly traitors.

“Don’t waste time dwelling on the past, dearie,” Granny soothed warmly. “Not when your future beckons.”

“My Future?”

“Lord Grayven was quite impressed with your performance today. He wants you to lead a Fury squad on a very important off-world mission.”

“Off-world?” Despara asked excitedly. “Where? New Genesis? Earth?”

“Patience, dearie,” Granny chuckled. “Colonel Vundabar will brief you and your squad-mates in due course.”

“Apologies, Granny. I’ve just never been off-world before.” Despara gazed out over the smog choked skyline of Armagetto, dominated by the cyclopean presence of the Divine Palace. “I’d definitely remember that.”

“Poor dearie, you must be exhausted. Why don’t you head back to the barracks and rest?”

“Of course, Shadow Weaver.”

Granny’s lips pursed. “What was that, dearie?”

“I said ‘of course, Granny’… Didn’t I?”

“Of course, child.” Granny smiled warmly. “Oh, and one more thing…”

“Yes, GraAAGHH!!” Despara screamed as Goodness jabbed the end of her Mega-Rod into the young Fury’s side, unleashing a charge of burning agony that reduced her to a sobbing heap.

“That was for hesitating to make a kill when you had the chance,” Granny sneered.

“But he…” Despara wheezed, curled on the chill metal floor. “He was Darkseid’s son?”

“Well, obviously Kalibak is an exception but it’s the principle of the thing, child. We can’t risk you developing any unseemly habits, can we now?” Granny turned to leave, pausing to shoot one last glance back over her shoulder. “I trust you can find your own way back to the barracks?”

Despara staggered to her feet, panting as she clutched her side. “Yuh... yes, Granny.”

Goodness smiled benignly “That’s my girl.”

*

HOLLYWOOD

June 18, 20:28 PDT

“It’s been over a week. What’s the hold up?” Catra hissed into the ‘burner’ Whisper A’Daire had given her.

She set on the edge of the Outsider’s rooftop helipad; the sparkling city spread out below, a haze of soft crimson still on the horizon. She’d never understand how people on this dumb rock thought having a giant radioactive fireball in the sky was normal.

“I’ve already passed your message onto my contact,” replied A’Daire. “He’ll get back to me in his own good time.”

“Can’t you make him hurry?” Catra hissed.

“We’re talking ‘bout an immortal cosmic being here, kid. He doesn’t do ‘hurry’.”

“Well, he better learn before I take my deal somewhere else!” Catra hung up, slamming the fold-up phone shut.

Catra doubted the empty threat would worry A’Daire or her Apokoliptan contact much, but it was the only card she had left to play. Melog sauntered over, gently nuzzling Catra’ hand. She ran her fingers thorough the fey’s ethereal mane.

“Come on, Mel,” sighed Catra wearily. “It’s getting cold out.”

*

Glimmer, Bow, Gar, Jill, Andie, Leslie and Tara set about the coffee table in the Hub’s common room, laughing and chatting as they scarfed down fresh pizza.

“So, Glimmer, all the princesses on your planet have magic powers?” Jill asked, taking another slice.

“Mhmm,” Glimmer mumbled, swallowing a mouthful of pie. “Isn’t that how it works on Earth?”

“Not exactly.” Tara shrugged, before scarfing down an entire slice in a single gulp.

Wingman was draped mournfully over Gar’s lap. The little corgi whimpered despairingly as though in the throes of absolute starvation.

“You heard what the vet said last time, li’l bud,” Gar said regretfully. “No more cheese.”

Wingman’s eyes glistened pleadingly, wide as twin pools.

“Gar, babe, be firm,” Jill chided. “He’s trying to emotionally blackmail you.”

Gar winced. “It’s kinda working tho.”

Fortunately, Gar’s dilemma was averted by Catra and Melog’s entrance. Wingman immediately forgot the temptation of cheese-filled crust to dart across the common room and hop excitedly at Melog’s feet, as he’d done every time he and the alien fey had crossed paths over the past two weeks.

Melog, like every other time, responded by gently tipping Wingman over with a single paw. The Corgi’s upright legs waggled delightedly in the air, having the most fun ever.

Bow waved. “Hey Catra, you gotta try some of this ‘peat-za’!”

Catra nose wrinkled at the greasy stench. “Pass. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Glimmer and Bow exchanged worried glances. “Uh, sure. Let us know if you need anything.”

“Whatever,” Catra said without inflection. “Mel.”

Melog reluctantly followed in Catra’s wake, leaving behind a deeply disappointed Corgi.

“I’m gonna grab a soda,” Leslie said. “BRB.”

*

Catra laid a saucer of milk on the kitchen tiles for Melog before pouring herself a tall cold glass from the same carton. She sat several long minutes, silently nursing the cool beverage at the countertop, staring into space, locked in her own head.

“Mind if I join you?”

Catra glanced up at the Earth girl with the chalk-white skin and electric-blue hair. What was her name? Lexie? Lizzy? She shrugged. “It’s your planet.”

“Cool, cool.” Electric girl grabbed a soda from the fridge before pulling up a stool. “You know, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. How about starting over?” She extended a hand. “Hi, I’m Leslie.”

Catra ignored the proffered hand. “Noted.”

“Okay, I see what you’re doing,” Leslie whispered, leaning in conspiratorially.

Catra grunted monosyllabically.

“The whole stone-cold bitch routine; been there, done that. Believe me, I get it. Keeps people from getting too close. Thing is, if you chase people off every time they try to reach out, eventually they stop trying.”

Catra felt a headache coming on. She hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks. Why couldn’t this idiot just take the hint and leave her alone?

“And don’t worry about your girlfriend. Now that the Outsiders are on the case, you and Adorabelle’ll be bumping uglies again in no time.”

That’s when Catra snapped.

*

Glimmer, Bow, Gar, Jill, Tara and Andie were abruptly startled by the sound of screams and the tang of ozone from the kitchen. Leslie stumbled backwards into the common room, a hand clutching the side of her face, blood seeping through her fingers. She held her free hand out defensively, electricity crackling from her fingertips.

Catra came roaring out of the kitchen, wild-eyed, claws stained red. “You wanna say that again, you mouthy little pervert!?”

“Les!?” Andie leaped between Catra and Leslie, arms spread to defend her girlfriend. “Get away from her!”

Catra would have pounced had Glimmer and Bow not restrained her as Tara and Gar dashed to tend to Leslie’s wounds.

“CATRA!?” Glimmer cried. “What are you doing?!”

“It looks worse than it is,” Tara said. The former assassin wasn’t grateful to the League of Shadows for much, but at least they’d had the foresight to include basic field medicine in her training. “Jill, bring me the first aid kit. Andie, find Daniel.”

“Right,” Jill said, dashing into the kitchen.

Andie’s eyes wavered between Leslie and her attacker. “But…”

“It’s okay,” Gar spoke confidently. “We got Les.”

Andie nodded; her metahuman body dissolved into pale mist as she sped down the hall.

Once she was out of earshot, Gar’s green eyes went hard as steel. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Leslie sputtered. “We were just talking, then this psycho-bitch jumped me!”

“You were just mouthing off about Adora, you mean!?” Catra snarled.

“Catra, please!” Glimmer pleaded. “We’re all upset about Adora, but-”

“Are we!?” Catra shot Glimmer a look of pure venom. “’Cuz from where I’m standing, it looks like you two are too busy partying it up with your new Earth friends to even notice she’s gone!”

“Maybe we should talk about this in private?” Bow said coolly.

“NO!” Catra snapped, rounding on the archer, her voice ragged. “I am sick of talking! I am sick of sharing my feelings, and I am sick of your stupid little friendship speeches!”

“Fine, ‘cuz we’re done talking,” Gar locked eyes with Catra. “You. Pack. Now.”

“Fine,” Catra echoed, shrugging off the other two Etherians before storming down the hall.

*

Mere minutes later found Catra in her soon-to-be vacated room, furiously stuffing her meagre possessions into a duffle bag. Melog paced the floor, mewling imploringly.

“There’s no point apologizing,” Catra spat bitterly. “They’re all useless anyway, even Glimmer and Bow. No, especially Glimmer and Bow! I’m better off on my own.”

Melog leaped onto the bed, head shoving Catra away from the duffle bag.

“Quit it!”

Melog gave her another head shove.

“I SAID QUIT IT!” Catra snarled, fangs bared.

Melog jumped back, curling into themself fearfully.

Catra winced with shame. “Mel… I… I didn’t mean-”

Her belt pouch buzzed as a text message came in from A’Daire. It was just two words:

Meet now.

*

APOKOLIPS

June 20, 01:01 UTC

Despara’s side still twinged as she entered the spartan briefing room. Spotting Black Mary leaning sullenly against the back wall, Despara smiled hopefully.

“Hey, Mary!”

Mary shot her a look that clearly said ‘keep moving’. Despara wished she could remember what she had done to get on the Earth Fury’s bad side.

“Hey! Hey, Dez!” A younger Fury – barely fifteen standard years if that - beckoned from up front. Her platinum-blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, a crimson crest emblazoned on her otherwise standard cadet uniform. “I saved you a seat!”

“Thanks, Kara,” Despara gratefully took the proffered chair. “How’d the Grey Borders mission go?”

“Same old, same old. Escort duty barely counts as a real mission anyway,” Kara chin-pointed over her shoulder. “The Princess of Darkness still giving you a hard time?”

“You know I can hear you, Zor-El?”

“You know I don’t care, Bromfield!” Kara stuck her tongue out at the older girl.

Despara repressed a chuckle, bringing another twinge of pain to her side.

“You okay?” Kara asked. “Did something happen?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Despara lied poorly. “Musta just pulled something in the arena.”

“Oh, yeah!” Kara trilled, eagerly pouncing on the change of topic. “I heard you trashed Kalijerk! Did he cry? Please tell me he cried!”

Despara managed to stifle another snort without aching. She’d known Kara Zor-El less than a month but already the young Kryptonian had grafted herself onto her like a tag-along kid sister. It should have annoyed Despara - and honestly, Kara could be over-much at times - but she was one of the few people on all Apokolips who was generally friendly with her without any kind of ulterior motive.

That was weird wasn’t it? Despara couldn’t remember any of her friends from before the ambush. Did she even have friends before? She must have… right?

“Achtung!”

Colonel Virman Vundabar came marching into the briefing room, carrying a rolled-up map and ornate case. The mass of medals covering his blood bright uniform jangled harshly with each step.

“Guten morgen, cadets,” Vundabar spoke with a tar-thick accent, adjusting his monocle. “In just of few short hours, you three will have the honor of embarking on a mission that will bring glory the Fatherworld. But first… the briefing!”

“Why does he talk like that?” Despara whispered.

“I heard he spent some time on Earth a century or two back,” Kara replied low. “Went a little native; it happens.”

“Hsst!” Vundabar shushed, glaring at the cadets. They immediately fell silent. “That’s better.”

He returned to unrolling his battle map upon a low table before producing dozens of tiny yet finely painted figures from his case. Using a ruler, he began painstakingly positioning each and every one. The three Furies’ shoulders sagged despairingly; they were going to be here a while.

*

HOLLYWOOD

June 20, 17:05 PDT

Violet Harper, AKA Halo, stooped over the desk in the corner of their room. They’d taken advantage of the privacy to remove their hijab and were currently going over their itinerary for next weekend. Had they known volunteering to help organize the Justice League's part in the annual Metropolis Pride Parade would be so stressful, they might not have jumped at the chance so enthusiastically.

Tap-tap.

Violet glanced up to find Catra and Melog standing on the balcony in the afternoon sun. The young Earther rose, pulling back the glass door.

“Catra?”

“Hey, Rainbow. Can we talk?”

Violet grimaced uncomfortably. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I know, I know. I messed up bad… maybe too bad to come back from this time. But as pathetic as this sounds, you’re probably the closest thing to a friend I have left on this dirtball.”

Violet exhaled deeply before stepping aside. “Come on in.”

Catra stalked across the room, leaving Melog to guard the balcony exit. “You alone?”

“Yes…? Daniel’s at a shoot and the others are attending a ceremony in Central City to commemorate the first Kid Flash.”

Catra locked the door. “Good.”

*

“Yo, Vi!” Gar rapped his knuckles on the bedroom door. “We just got back from Central and I was gonna try my new tofu curry recipe out on Glimmer and Bow. You want in?”

Silence.

Gar waited a long tense moment before cautiously trying the door. “Violet?”

Locked.

He tried to reassure himself. They were probably just napping or had their headphones on or something. Still, he hadn’t lasted this long in the hero biz without developing a healthy sense of paranoia.

Gar’s form began to shift and shrink, a thin membrane of skin spread between long bony fingers as green fur sprouted about his tiny, compacted body. At almost two inches, the Spotted Bat’s ears were the largest and most sensitive of any bat species in the Americas. In this form, Gar could hear a human heartbeat from across a football stadium.

He couldn’t hear any in Violet’s room.

*

HAPPYLAND, CALIFORNIA

June 20, 20:05 PDT

The setting sun cast a hellish aura about the dilapidated fairy-tale castle as it loomed over the abandoned theme park. Whisper A’Daire stood in the middle of the main street leading up to the faux-Gothic edifice. A sly smile crept up her lips as she spotted her ‘guest’ approach.

Catra stopped about fifty paces from Whisper, flanked by Melog, leading a bound and bruised Halo. The so-called ‘hero’s’ hands were zip-tied behind their back, an inhibitor collar clamped around their neck. Their left eye was nearly swollen shut.

Whisper whistled low. “I’m impressed, kid. I didn’t think you had it in you. If you’re looking for a steady gig after this, Intergang can always use the extra muscle?”

“First thing’s first,” Catra answered.

“Fair enough,” Whisper tapped her wrist-com. “They’re here.”

BOOOOOM!!!

A pale hunched figure emerged from the fiery Boom-Tube, cloaked in a hooded purple robe. Oily black hair clung to his pallid scalp like dead weeds. Behind him followed a second figure, bound and collared much like Halo.

Catra’s heart skipped a beat. Adora was just as she remembered her, the same steel blue eyes, the same dark blond pony-tail and doofy hair-poof. She even wore the same red jacket she hadn’t changed in years.

Whisper gestured to the hooded Apokoliptan. “Catra, Dessad. Desaad, Catra.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” Desaad oozed, leering at the bound Halo. “And this must be the aberrant Motherbox that gave poor Granny such grief? I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to… examining it.”

Catra stepped between Halo and the New God’s predatory gaze. “After you hand over Adora.”

“Of course, of course” Desaad chortled wetly. “On three then, as the Earthlings say?”

“Fine,” Catra replied curtly. “Three.”

The two prisoners began their slow measured march, not even exchanging glances as they passed each other. Adora was barely five paces away when Catra finally broke, racing forward to embrace her. Whisper reached for her sidearm in response, only to be quietly stilled by Desaad.

“Adora… I… I thought I’d never see you again,” Catra sobbed, holding Adora tight as though a stray gust might snatch her away again. “I missed you so much!”

“Awww, I missed you too…” Adora purred sardonically, dropping into a husky whisper. “Kitten.”

*

APOKOLIPS

June 21, 03:05 UTC

“That should be everything on the manifest,” Despara said, double-checking her data-pad as Kara carried a massive metal crate up the ship’s embankment ramp.

“Still don’t see why we can’t just take a Boom-Tube?” Kara whinged. Her crate would normally take two Parademons to carry but the Kryptonian balanced it casually on one shoulder.

“Kara, we went over this at the briefing, remember?”

“Yeah… about that, Dez. I kinda, maybe zoned out half-way through.”

Despara sighed; Darkseid give her strength. “Boom-Tubes are too conspicuous. Where we’re going, it doesn’t pay to attract attention.” She tapped the hull of the ancient blocky spacecraft. “That’s why we’re taking this old troop transport.”

“Low profile, got it,” Kara said, now holding the crate one-handed. “Hey, do we have another one of these? I wanna try juggling them!”

Black Mary stood back with her arms folded, watching the other two Furies bantering between themselves. Maybe she should go over and…? No. She’d been down that road before. Best not get attached.

“Butterflies in your stomach, dear?”

“Granny?!” Mary blurted, turning to find Goodness looming over her.

“A mission from Lord Grayven himself is quite the honor,” Granny cooed. “Not to mention an opportunity to make up for past… shortcomings.”

Mary winced, remembering the debacle on the Godshead. “I’m ready to prove myself.”

“I never doubted you.” Granny took Mary aside, lowering her voice to a low whisper. “You realize of course, you’ll be the only one on this mission who knows Despara’s little secret?”

“Yes…?”

“I need you to keep a close eye on her. Watch for any sign her loyalty might be… wavering.”

“And if it does?”

Granny smiled, giving Mary’s shoulder a tight squeeze. “Then I trust you’ll do the right thing, child.”

Mary’s eyes hardened. “I… I understand.”

On the other side of the landing pad, Kara kept her ear cocked, her face pensive.

“Anything wrong?” Despara asked.

“Nah, all good,” Kara lied.

*

HAPPYLAND, CALIFORNIA

June 20, 20:15 PDT

“YOU!?!”

Catra slashed at ‘Adora’, who merely pirouetted out of reach. The imposter’s form melted into shimmering darkness, reverting to their default form.

“Really, Kitten?” Double Trouble pouted. The shapeshifting mercenary clutched their reptilian tail in mock heartbreak. “It’s been over a year and all I get is ‘you’? Not ‘How are you, Double Trouble’ or ‘You look amazing, DT’? I’m hurt, truly.”

Catra ignored their taunts, reeling on Desaad. “Where’s the real Adora!? We had a deal!”

“Oh, don’t worry, mortal. You’ll being seeing sweet Despara soon enough,” Desaad said. “But first…”

The air surrounding Catra and Melog rippled as sixteen Intergang enforcers ‘phased-in’ out of nowhere, each wielding a deadly Apokoliptan weapon.

Deesad’s lips peeled back in a ghoulish grin. “We are all going back to Apokolips… together.”

“Like fuck we are!” Catra snarled, activating her stolen energy whip as Melog’s mane flared bright crimson.

Desaad smirked lewdly. “Oh, I do so love it when they struggle.”

“Then you’ll love this!” a new voice cried from on high, before Desaad and Whisper were blinded by an exploding flashbang arrow.

Glimmer, Bow and Beast Boy came swooping out of the sky, riding atop a disc of magical violet light. Beast Boy leaped from the flying platform, morphing midair into a ravenous Martian Ma'alefa'ak as he landed among the shrieking Intergoons.

“Catra!?” Glimmer shouted angrily as she and Bow touched down. “What are you doing here?!”

“What am I doing here!?” Catra blurted. “What are you doing here?!”

“Beast Boy picked up your scent all over Halo’s room,” Bow nocked another arrow. “Then he had the Watchtower run a scan for unauthorized Boom-Tubes.”

“Bow, don’t let her change the subject!” Glimmer snapped.

“Sounds like my cue to exit. Ciao, kiddies!” Double Trouble bolted for it, barely making it ten paces before they were hit by Bow’s expanding gel arrow. They shifted desperately from one form to another, only for the enveloping green goop to match them morph for morph before hardening. “Well, this is embarrassing.”

“Desaad!” Whisper yelled, still blurry-eyed. “We need ta boom outta here!”

“Not without my prize!” Desaad lunged at the still bound Halo, only for his hands to pass right through the ghostly captive. ‘Halo’ disappeared in a flicker of green light.

“Wha… What!?”

Before Desaad had a chance to properly process what had happened, a yellow energy bolt came flying out of nowhere, sending the Apokoliptan hurling across Main Street.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting!” Halo streaked overhead, peppering the remaining goons with blasts of yellow energy as they went. “Didn’t want to tip my hand.”

Glimmer backhanded another goon with her glowing fist. “It was a hologram!?”

“Of course, it was a hologram! You didn’t really think I’d trade Rainbow to Apokolips, did you?” Catra disarmed an attacker with her new energy whip, before reeling on Glimmer. “Wait… You totally did, didn’t you!?”

“Well, what was I supposed to think?” Glimmer fumed. “You did almost destroy reality once!”

“Uggh, you always gotta play the ‘almost destroyed reality’ card,” Catra groaned. “How many times do I have to say ‘I’m sorry’?”

Halo paused overhead. “You almost destroyed reality?”

“I was in a bad place, okay!”

“Why didn’t you just tell us you were planning a fake prisoner exchange!?” Glimmer demanded.

“Because I knew you would try to talk me out of it!” Catra yelled.

Bow fired a bolo-arrow. “Of course, we would have talked you out of it! It’s insane!”

“Well at least, I’m doing something!” Catra snapped. “At least I-”

“At least you what, ‘care’?!” Glimmer shot back. “Is that what you were going to say?! Do you really think you’re the only one who’s worried sick about Adora?!” The mage-queen’s voice broke, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. “Do you really think you’re the only one who’s hurting?”

Catra tried to spit back a retort, but nothing came. All these weeks, she’d been so twisted up in her own grief and frustration, she’d barely thought about how Glimmer and Bow were coping. Had she even asked?

“Sparkles, I…”

BOOOOOM!!!

Catra spun to see Desaad limping toward a newly opened Boom-Tube.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered softly before leaping into the fray, faster than her friends could follow.

“Catra, wait!” Glimmer cried desperately.

Catra tackled Desaad to the ground, sending his Fatherbox clattering across the asphalt. Before the Apokoliptan could clamber back to his feet, Catra snatched up the living computer and leaped into the blazing Boom-Tube.

“CATRA!?!”

For a moment, Catra seemed to freeze in mid-leap, suspended within the Boom-Tube’s infernal maw. But only for a moment; the vortex collapsed on itself, swallowing her whole.

Glimmer fell to her knees.

Halo clasped a hand to their face, silently praying.

By now, the last of Intergang’s forces had been neutralized. Melog padded wordlessly to the spot where the Boom-Tube had vanished, pawing the air as though trying to tear aside some invisible curtain.

“She… she’s gone?” Bow said breathlessly, kneeling to comfort Glimmer.

Melog’s shimmering blue mane turned a dull grey as they raised a mournful wail to the pitiless stars.

Chapter Text

THE WATCHTOWER

June 21, 08:16 EDT

“RELEASE ME, MORTALS!!!”

Desaad clawed at the emerald forcefield of the Oan Sciencell like a rabid weasel. The cell was a holdover from the Watchtower’s previous existence as a Green Lantern outpost, capable of holding even a New God, no matter how irate.

“When Dread Darkseid learns of this affront, your world will suffer beyond all imagination! Your skies will burn, your sun will blacken, and your seas will turn red with the blood of-”

“Computer: mute,” Black Lightning spoke, leaving Desaad silently raving to himself. The Justice League Chairman’s dark eyes were hard as flint. “Anyone want to explain what Darkseid’s Chief Scientist and a shapeshifting alien mercenary are doing on my space station.”

Double Trouble waved from the cell across.

“We thought the old Sciencells would be the best place to hold them,” Tigress answered. “At least for now.”

“Not remotely what I meant.”

“Well then, you’ll have to ask them.” Tigress cast a stern eye on Halo, who was standing at a respectful distance.

“I’m sorry, this is all my fault,” they said, stepping forward. “It’s just… Catra was in so much pain and I thought…”

“You’d let her talk you into some hair-brained scheme to trade a holographic version of yourself to Intergang?!” Tigress scolded. “Without even telling us!?”

“What was your plan if Beast Boy hadn’t tracked you down in time?” Lightning demanded. “Did you even have one?”

Halo winced wordlessly under Lightning’s calm yet withering tones. Sometimes they forgot he used to be a schoolteacher.

“I’m disappointed, Violet. I thought better of you.” Lightning’s voice softened slightly. “I still do.”

“We both do,” Tigress added.

“We’ll discuss disciplinary action later,” Lightning said. “Right now, I need to speak with our other ‘guests’.”

*

Glimmer paced the length of the conference room, rapidly wearing the carpet down to bare threads.

“Glimmer, hun,” Bow said gently. “Do you maybe want to sit down for a bit?”

“How can I sit down?! It’s bad enough Adora’s missing, but now Catra’s only gone and thrown herself through a Boom-Tube to who knows where!” Glimmer collapsed into a chair, utterly exasperated. “That’s so typical of her.”

The door whooshed open to admit Black Lightning, Tigress and…

“Halo?!” Glimmer embraced the young hero, reading their face. “That bad, huh?”

Halo shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

Glimmer quickly recomposed herself, all business as she turned to Black Lightning. “What now?”

“Now, we interrogate the prisoners,” Lightning answered. “Try to figure out where that Boom-Tube took your friend.”

“And then?”

“Then we contact Oa to arrange some more long-term accommodation for Desaad,” Tigress answered. “He’s right about one thing, Darkseid’s not going to stand for this.”

“We’ll cross that fire pit when we come to it,” Lightning said.

“What about Double Trouble?” Bow asked.

“Oh, that part’s simple,” Lightning said, tone level. “You’ll be taking them with you back to Etheria when you leave. I suggest you start packing.”

“What?!” Glimmer blurted.

“You... You can’t do that!?” Bow sputtered. “What about Catra and Adora?!”

“The League will do everything in our power to locate and bring back your missing friends safely,” Lightning said. “But we’ll be doing it without any further ‘assistance’.”

Glimmer’s voice turned to ice. “As Queen of Bright Moon and Leader of the Princess Alliance of Etheria, I demand-”

“Respectfully, Your Majesty, you’re in no position to demand anything. I’m willing to accept you had no foreknowledge of this little stunt, but clearly our two worlds have very different standards of trustworthiness.” Lightning’s eyes narrowed, his voice cool. “I gather Catra has something of a history of… lapses in judgement?”

Glimmer was stone-faced, saying nothing.

“I thought so,” Lightning said. “Tigress, would you kindly escort our guests to the Zeta-Tube?”

“Don’t bother,” Glimmer huffed. “We know the way.”

She stormed past Black Lightning with Bow in tow, projecting what she hoped was an air of regal defiance. Yet one damning thought wormed through her mind…

Adora would have handled that better.

*

TRIAX STAR SYSTEM

June 21, 12:32 UTC

Despara’s eyes flickered open. She found herself adrift in a sea of stars dominated by three blazing suns; sapphire, jade, and amber jewels set in a tapestry of sparkling black velvet. She tried to turn in her seat, only for a nerve at the back of her neck the scream in protest. The cockpit of this old troop transport was hardly built for comfort. But then, few things on Apokolips were.

“Report?”

“We dropped out of sub-space about sixteen dendaro ago,” Kara answered from the pilot’s seat. “We should be in visual range any moment now.”

“Good.” Despara stamped the feeling back into her leg.

“So… pleasant dreams?”

“Hmm?”

“You were mumbling in your sleep. Like, a lot.”

“I was?” Despara tried to think. She never remembered her dreams. She’d started suspecting she simply never had any. “I think I was in… a forest? There were all these weird trees and… this girl?”

The younger Fury’s face lit up with adolescent interest. “A girl?”

Despara’s eyes nearly rolled back in her head. “Mind out of the gutter, cadet.”

She tried to recall her dream before the memory slipped completely into oblivion. She remembered an unkempt shaggy brown mane framing a sly cooked grin and eyes of sapphire blue… or where they yellow?

“Hey, isn’t this your first time off Apokolips?” Kara probed, trying to sound casual. “How do you even know what a tree is?”

“Huh…? Must have read about them somewhere. Did you have trees on Krypton?”

Kara flinched, drawing into herself. “Yeah… yeah, we did?”

Despara winced. Dammit. Her only real friend on Apokolips and she’d probably just alienated her forever. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“No, it’s fine. Krypton’s just… hard to talk about sometimes.”

“I understand.”

Kara was quiet for a long moment. “Back on Krypton, I was a bit of a delinquent.”

“I can’t imagine,” Despara deadpanned.

“I know, right?” Kara snorted. “Guess it was a teen rebellion thing; my dad was a big law and order type. He used to joke he’d send me to the Phantom Zone if I didn’t shape up.” The mirth drained from her voice. “And then one day… he stopped joking.”

“Kara, I… I had no idea.”

The Kryptonian shrugged. “Honestly, I'm not exactly sure what happened. Sometimes I remember it one way, sometimes another. After forty years of Zone sickness, my brain’s scrambled as all Hell.”

Despara’s curiosity piqued. It was rare enough for Kara to mention her homeworld, but she almost never spoke of her decades in the Kryptonian shadow dimension.

“You can’t imagine what it’s like in the Zone, Dez…” Kara’s voice was faint, as though speaking from the bottom of some fathomless abyss. “It’s just endless nothing that goes on forever. Nothing ever changes, nothing even really lives. It just... exists. There’s no warmth, no planets, no…”

“No stars,” Despara finished without thinking.

Kara stared at her. “How did you-”

The aft hatch hissed as Black Mary came storming into the cockpit, brusquely interposing herself between the other Furies. “How much longer?”

“Well, hello to you too, starshine,” Kara grumbled.

Despara bit back the first response to leap to mind, double-checking Kara’s telemetry, more to give her a moment to compose herself than anything. “We should already be within visual range.”

“Where is it?” Mary demanded.

“It’s right there!” Despara pointed, sounding more irritable than she’d intended.

Mary squinted. “That’s a smudge.”

“Fatherbox, full magnification on the ‘smudge’,” Despara commanded the living computer currently interfaced with ship’s main console.

Ting!

A dull brown ball filled the viewscreen. Denebria was the only remaining habitable planet in the Triax Star System, though calling Denebria ‘habitable’ was overly generous. A millennium ago, Denebria’s sister planet of Primus had been the capital of an empire that stretched across most of this sector of the galaxy. Naturally, Denebria had been its first conquest.

Over the centuries, Primus had ruthlessly exploited Denebria’s natural resources and indigenous population until the planet was reduced to an over-industrialized wasteland; its people mutated beyond recognition by generations of rad-exposure and chemical saturation.

Like all mortal empires, the Primans’ hubris inevitably outpaced their might; they dared to challenge the Gods themselves. Little over one thousand years ago, Lord Grayven Himself lead a great armada to humble the upstarts. The fleet cut a swathed of destruction across the petty empire’s outlying colonies before arriving in orbit over Primus itself.

For sixteen days and sixteen nights the Gods of Apokolips poured out their wrath upon Primus, scouring it of all life until nought was left of the once proud civilization but charred ruins. Only a handful of survivors had managed to flee into the wilds of deep space. In the aftermath, the newly ‘liberated’ Denebria had been left to fend for itself, becoming a haven for outlaws and pirates from across the known galaxy.

Denebria itself wasn’t the Furies’ destination. Their real objective was the sickly world’s singular satellite, an irregular calcified mass of grey-purple bone. Entire fleets of lean predatory raiders and heavily armed merchant ships darted in and out of twin crater-like abbesses that stared emptily into infinity.

“Holy moly,” Mary swore softly. “What kind of moon is that?”

“That’s no moon,” Kara answered.

“Then what the heck is it, Obi-Wan?”

“It’s a skull,” Despara’s voice almost died in her throat. “The skull of an Old God.”

*

NORDOR

June 21, 13:48 UTC

None remembered the true name of the Promethean Giant whose hollowed skull now formed Denebria’s lone satellite. The Old God had perished long before life had crawled out of the planet’s seas, back when it still had seas. Across Denebria’s millennia long history, it had been ascribed a thousand names in a thousand creation myths. It was the skull of the Giant King who dared to steal the gift of thought from the Gods and been beheaded for his hubris. It was the last remains of the Creator who had carved up Her own divine flesh to construct the cosmos.

Nowadays, most simply called it Nordor.

The three Furies disembarked from the main thoroughfare that led from the docks lining Nordor’s left eye-socket. Despara was momentarily disoriented by the mass of multi-colored constellations far above. For one mad moment she thought they had mistakenly stepped out into hard vacuum, only to realize that the lights above were from the far side of the vast city lining the interior of the not-so-immortal’s brain cavity. The bustling street stretched out before her, arcing upward to join the ‘sky’, where dozens of needle-like towers ‘rose’ to converge on a central point.

“Whoa! Easy, Dez!” Kara caught her before she completely tumbled over. “First time in an orbital habitat, huh?”

Despara tried to shake off the vertigo. “That obvious?”

“Horizons, ya never appreciate them ‘til they’re gone,” Kara chuckled, steadying Despara. “Just don’t look up and you’ll be fine.”

“Down isn’t much of an improvement,” Mary grumbled, side-stepping something suspiciously like a body lying in the middle of the thronging street. “This place makes Rimbor look upmarket. Where are we supposed to meet this ‘contact’ anyway?”

Ting!

“Fatherbox says it’s about half a klick this way,” Despara tilted her head. “In the Ethmoid District.”

“Let’s get on with it then,” Mary said, about to wade into the teaming crowd.

“Hold up.” Despara restrained the Earth Fury. “We need to stay close!”

Mary brushed her off. “I don’t need my hand held!”

Despara watched her bluster off. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with her?”

“You want my advice, Dez? Let her go,” Kara said. “She’s not worth the headache.”

Despara grimaced at Kara’s uncharacteristic callousness. The thought of just writing-off someone under her command didn’t sit well as the trio made their way through the intracranial metropolis.

They passed an opulent establishment where ethereal jellyfish-like beings danced hypnotically behind tinted glass, shifting rainbow tendrils forming patterns like alien sunsets. Kara stood transfixed by the unearthly display until Mary whispered something in the younger Fury’s ear, pointing out the small line of furtive patrons filing into the establishment while trying not to draw too much attention to themselves. A red-faced Kara quickly moved on as Mary failed to supress a wicked snicker.

“Hey, kids,” hissed a blue-skinned woman with a crimson Mohawk, accosting the trio with a vial of yellowish liquid. “Wanna buy some spinal fluid?”

“What?! No!” Despara blurted in confusion. “What would we even do with that?”

“That’s your business, hun.” The blue woman winked. “Crita don’t judge.”

Despara shook her head. “We’re looking for Madame Brakk’s. You know it?”

“Hmmm… Brakk… Brakk…?” Crita mused thoughtfully, tapping her chin with the vial. “You know, it sounds vaguely familiar but...”

Despara sighed before tossing the dealer a coin in the local currency.

Crita snatched the spinning disc in mid-air, palming it like a street magician. “Take the next left, third door on the right, big gold and purple sign. Oh, and tell the old lizard she still owes me fifty stem.”

*

The three Furies stalked cautiously into the smoky curio shop, perusing the dimly lit shelves. Despara tensed, ready to summon her energy blade at a moment’s notice.

“Hello?”

No sooner had the word passed her lips than two shadowy figures dropped from the rafters above, cutting off the trio’s retreat. The first was a gaunt six-limbed insectoid with elephantine ears and giant yellow saucer eyes perched atop undulating stalks like streetlamps. He was backed up by a bald Thanagarian woman wielding an Nth metal whip.

Despara puffed out her chest, trying to look more intimidating than she felt. “We’re here to see Madame Brakk!”

“M-m-madame Brakk doesn’t accept walk-ins! M-m-make an appointment, then com-m-me back,” the insectoid slurred in a high-pitched whine, chittering mandibles crudely emulating humanoid speech. “Or m-m-maybe you don’t com-m-me back at all!”

The insectoid and the Thanagarian closed in on the Furies, pincers grinding like sharpening knives, whip coiled to strike. The trio immediately formed a defensive ring, back-to-back, as Despara summoned twin energy scimitars.

“Mantanna! Vultak!”

The insectoid and the Thanagarian froze, immediately backing off to make way for a voluptuous, purple-scaled lizard-toad in a faintly lascivious golden gown, fanning herself languidly.

“We don’t want to make our guests feel unwelcome.”

“Yeah, great customer service,” Mary snorted.

“You simply must forgive poor sweet Mantenna,” the lizard-woman cooed, scratching the insectoid beneath his contentedly chittering mandibles. “He’s devoted but none too bright.”

Mantenna’s eyestalks drooped a tad. “M-m-m…”

“Madame Brakk, I presume?” Despara asked.

“Guilty as charged,” the lizard-woman drawled with an air that suggested she’d never felt a twinge of guilt in her life. “And what brings three strapping young soldier girls such as yourselves to my humble establishment? Old Desaad already broke the last plaything we sold him?”

Despara stiffened, not liking to dwell on the God of Torment. “We were sent by Lord Grayven.”

“Oooh,” Madame Brakk trilled as she leaned closer, filling Despara’s nostrils with cloying perfume. “Then you must be here for… the artefact?”

“Figures,” Kara whispered. “Everything here looks like it belongs in a museum.”

“Don’t be vulgar, child,” Brakk chided. Her lidless eyes paused for a sec over the scarlet crest adorning Kara’s uniform. “The shop is just for the tourists. I keep the real goodies downstairs.”

*

The rickety lift’s doors rattled open to reveal a cavernous vault hollowed out of petrified bone. Madame Brakk took point, leading her three young ‘customers’ through of winding maze of dusty crates. Mantenna and Vultak brought up the rear, alien eyes boring into the Furies’ backs.

“What are we buying, the Ark of the Covenant?” Mary muttered.

Kara stared blankly. “Arc of the whatnow?”

“Nevermind.”

Brakk paused in front of a large metallic cylinder, emblazoned with the symbol of a stylized elongated skull. She threw a wink over her shoulder. “No peeking.” She entered a short pin into her pad, causing the cylinder to unfold like a steel flower.

Despara’s breath caught in her throat, nameless emotions stirred by the sight of the object within the cylinder. “It’s a sword?”

More than that, it was the most beautiful sword Despara had ever seen. Its golden crossguard was cast in the image of twin ram-horns, runes on its broad crystalline blade shimmering with every color of the rainbow. The mere sight struck her as both oddly alien yet achingly familiar.

“A beaut, isn’t she?” Brakk cooed. “I ‘acquired’ her from a New Genesisian explorer who claimed she’d once been used to slay the wickedest of the Old Gods.”

“Wait,” Kara interjected. “You’re telling me that little thing killed something the size of…” She gestured wildly, taking in the entire bone cave.

“It’s not the size, sweetling,” Brakk leered salaciously. “It’s how you use it.”

Despara unhooked Fatherbox from her belt, scanning the celestial blade.

Ting!

“Fatherbox confirms it’s a genuine Old God artefact,” Despara spoke.

“I’m wounded that you ever doubted me,” Brakk pouted, clutching her heart. “Now… regarding your end of the bargain?”

Despara gave Kara the nod. The Kryptonian produced a small black case, barely bigger than her palm. She opened it to reveal a bevy of blue-white crystals.

“Pure uncut Radion!” Brakk practically salivated, picking out a single crystal. “You don’t mind if we authenticate this, naturally?”

Despara’s nose crinkled. The crystals had been supplied by Lord Grayven Himself. To her mind, the word of a Son of Darkseid should be authentication enough for any mortal.

“Naturally.”

“Mantenna, dear, would you be so kind?” Brakk handed off the crystal.

The insectoid placed the crystal gently on a small table, his slit-like pupils dilating until his eyes became solid black orbs. Mantenna stared intently at the tiny blue-white shard, almost entranced as he delved into its microscopic structure until…

“FAKE!” Mantenna shrieked, pupils narrowing back into stiletto slits. “The m-m-merchandise is fake!”

“Vicious little harpies!” Brakk rounded on the Furies, lips peeled back to bare rows of needle-like teeth. “You think you can take advantage of a poor old woman!?”

“What?! No!” Despara flustered. “There must be some mistake! Lord Grayven said-”

“Oh, there’s been a mistake alright, the last mistake of your miserable little lives!” Brakk hissed. “Mantanna, Vultak!”

Mantenna leaped atop the table as Vultak took to the air, both unslinging weapons like high-tech crossbows before raking the cavern with blazing energy-bolts. Despara had only a moment to summon her energy shield, deflecting the oncoming bolts from her fellow Furies.

“Fall back!”

“Sorry, Dez! You know I don’t do ‘fall back’!” Kara smirked, taking flight.

“Kara, wait!”

The Kryptonian zipped past Brakk’s minions like a gust of wind, making straight for the lizard-toad herself. Kara slammed Brakk into a bone wall, pinning her like a butterfly. “Call off your goons or I-”

Kara was cut-off by Brakk blowing a cloud of glittering green dust in her face. The girl from Krypton staggered back, choking, and retching uncontrollably as her vision began to blur.

“What… what did you…?” Kara collapsed to the floor, convulsing violently.

“You think I didn’t recognize that crest, girlie?” Brakk snarled, delivering one vicious kick after another to the prone Fury’s side. “You think you’re the first Kryptonian lout to roll in here and try to bully poor defenceless Brakk!?”

“KARA!?”

Despara’s blood flash boiled as she unleashed a wave of scarlet energy, momentarily knocking Brakk and her goons back while shorting out their weapons. Despara’s crimson shield morphed into a jagged sword as she raised it above her head, summoning the five words that would transform her into a true Fury of Apokolips…

“BY THE POWER OF DARKSEID!!!”

Her form was suddenly engulfed in a pillar of flame, as though drawn from the Fire Pits themselves. From the blazing maelstrom a giant stepped forward, eight-foot tall and armored in ebon and crimson, her helm a bone white death’s head.

Mantenna lunged at the skull-helmed Fury, only to be swatted aside by a crimson energy mace. The hapless insectoid went flailing into a stack of crates as they came crashing down atop him. Despara did not stop to check if he was still intact.

Vultak tried to make a break for it. But Despara’s mace morphed into a spiked chain that wrapped around the Thanagarian’s ankles, slamming her back into the ground. Despara felt a pang of guilt as she brought an armored boot down on Vultak’s wing, hollow bones cracking beneath her heel like glass, but it passed soon enough.

Despara scanned the room, Brakk had already taken advantage of the chaos to scamper off into some hole. But that didn’t matter. Despara knelt by the fallen Kara, removing her grimly impassive skull-helm to reveal a face knotted with panic.

“Kara!? Kara, can you hear me?!”

The Kryptonian lay deathly still, flesh gangrenous green.

“She… she’s not breathing! Mary, help me!?”

Mary grabbed the cylinder containing the crystal sword. “We got what we came for, leave her!”

“That’s not an option!”

“She just inhaled a face full of Green K! She’s already dead! Let her go!”

“I am not giving up on her.”

Despara’s voice was calm. She had to be calm. If she panicked now, Kara really was dead. She cleared her mind, letting the fear pass over her like water over a stone. Golden light suffused her, surging through her from somewhere deep within. She looked down to see the golden aura dancing about her fingers. She instinctively placed her hands on Kara’s still form, the golden light flowing from her into the younger Fury.

Kara bolted upright, gasping for air like a drowning girl, her flesh pale but no longer gangreen.

“Holy molee,” Mary whispered.

“Kara!?” Despara trilled, hugging her squad mate. “Are you okay?

“Dez… I… I think I was dead?” Kara slow-blinked. “How did you…?”

“I-I don’t know.” Despara stared down at her own hands. “I just saw you lying there and I-”

“Huzah, it’s a miracle!” Mary snapped. “Can we go now?!”

The Furies burst from the doors of the curio shop, out into the grimy streets of Nordor. They were instantly surrounded by a mob of heavily armed pirates, rogues, and cutthroats. Each of the mob had their weapons trained directly on the trio.

“Form up!” Despara ordered, raising her sword as Kara and Mary flanked her.

Mary held the cylinder close to her chest. “Where did these creeps all come from?”

“Well, I always was a popular broad,” Madame Brakk fanned herself as she elbowed her way through the mob. “Now, are you sweetlings going the hand over what’s mine, or do I have my friends here gut you all like little fishies?”

“Dez, I think we’re waaay past ‘inconspicuous’,” Kara whispered.

“Agreed.” Despara reached for her belt. “Fatherbox!”

*

APOKOLIPS

June 21, 16:52 UTC

BOOOOOM!!!

Despara, Kara and Mary came tumbling out of the thundering vortex and onto the landing platform, followed by an onslaught of blaster fire.

“Fatherbox, now!” Despara roared, before the Boom-Tube blinked out of existence. She collapsed on the pad alongside her squad mates, her armored god-form dissipating. She panted heavily as a shadow fell over her.

“Back early?” Granny Goodness cooed.

“Granny!” Despara bolted to her feet with a stiff salute. “Mission accomplished… more or less.”

Goodness cast an appraising glance on the cylinder still held tight in Mary’s grip. “Then this…?”

Mary stepped forward, ready to offer up her prize before…

“I will be taking that,” Colonel Vundabar snapped, snatching the cylinder right out of Mary’s hands. He opened the cylinder just a crack, peering greedily at the crystal blade. “It’s even more beautiful than I had imagined!”

“You’re welcome,” Mary muttered.

Vundabar snapped the cylinder shut. “Well done, mein fräuleins, you have done Great Darkseid proud this day.”

“Darkseid is,” Despara intoned solemnly.

“Indeed. On that note, Frau Despara, Herr Grayven requests your presence in his private audience chamber…” Vundabar cast a disdainful glance over the dishevelled Fury. “Once you’ve cleaned up, of course.”

Despara’s voice caught in her throat, trembling at the prospect of standing in the presence of the Son of Draksied. “Lord Grayven asked to see me?”

“By name,” Vundabar answered, peering over his monocle.

“At once, sir!” Despara turned back to Goodness. “With your permission of course, Granny?”

“By all means, dearie.” Granny gave Despara’s shoulder a squeeze. “You deserve this.”

“Thank you, Granny!” Despara saluted again before marching off past the landing pad’s com-tower, totally oblivious to the shadowed figure watching her from a hidden perch.

*

The towering doors drew back soundlessly, allowing Despara egress into the cool sepulchral chamber beyond. She strode across the wide walkway that spanned a yawning abyss; the chamber’s upper reaches likewise lost in the darkness above. Pale grey buttresses stretched between the voids above and below.

Upon a raised dais at the central axis, loomed a lone throne, flanked by two white robed attendants. Upon it reclined a titan with skin of polished purple marble and a flowing silver mane, like a living idol enshrined within His temple.

“Welcome, Despara,” He spoke, a cold smile playing about His thin lips.

Despara fell prostrate before her God. “Lord Grayven.”

“Please, rise,” Grayven intoned, His voice a low rasp. “I would look the warrior who has served Apokolips with such distinction in the eye.”

Despara did as she was bidden. Even at her full height, she barely reached the reclining God’s eyeline. “I’ve done only as commanded of me, my Lord.”

“Humble as well,” Grayven chuckled softly, rising from His throne to tower over her like a colossus. “I have such plans for you, Despara.”

“For me, my Lord?”

“Oh yes, child,” Grayven answered, reaching out to cup her chin with a single massive fingertip, tilting it upward. “I have been watching you for so very long, and you have pleased me. And you shall soon have further opportunities to please me.”

Despara’s entire frame went ridged, willing herself not to recoil from His cold touch. She knew well the penalties for spurning the advances of a God. “I-I serve Darkseid in all things.”

“Of course.” Grayven’s eyes narrowed at His father’s name as He withdrew His hand. “We will discuss your future at a later date, cadet. You are dismissed… for now.”

*

Despara had managed to maintain her composure as she took her leave from Lord Grayven’s audience chamber. It was only after she’d heard the vaulting doors close behind her and was well out of sight of the white robed attendants that she’d finally broken into a mad dash through the winding corridors of the Divine Palace, trembling all the while.

Now she walked through the filth-choked streets of Armagetto, slowly making her way back to her barracks. The occasional Hunger Dog cast her the odd leering glance. But the sight of her Fury uniform always sent them scurrying back into the flickering shadows cast by the fire pit’s undying glow.

It was rare to see uniformed officers in these slums, save for the Protectors on their nightly rounds. Despara had already passed a squad of them on her way back from the Palace, administering a beating to a crumpled form that had barely whimpered in protest. The officer in charge had taken a moment to wipe his knuckles and offer Despara a wordless salute before returning to his work.

She’d fought down a mad impulse to intervene on the wretch’s behalf, but Granny’s lessons held her in check. All suffering was a test from Darkseid; those too degenerate to endure deserved no pity.

Normally she would have taken a flyer directly to her destination, but she needed time to think, away from the typical raucousness of the Fury barracks. Unfortunately, the ceaseless sound and heat of Armagetto was no better.

Apokolips was a world without silence or music, only ceaseless noise. Apokolips was the plaintive cries of starving children curled in the gutters. Apokolips was the wild preaching of the Justifiers from their barren chapels, an endless litany of hate and fear and futility that hammered down on her skull forever without end or escape.

Die for Darkseid and He will live for you!

Die for Darkseid!

Die…

Die…

DIE!!

Despara darted down an inky black alley, sobbing softly in the relative peace of the cool blackness. Is this what she was fighting for, just to oil the cogs of this vast ever ravening machine with even more blood?

Her spiral into total despair was broken by a hand falling on her shoulder.

Instinct immediately took over as Despara flung her assailant over her shoulder, pinning them against the alley’s far wall where a patch of flickering firelight illuminated their face.

“No…” Despara gasped, doubting her sanity. “You… You’re not real!?”

But she was real. Standing before Despara, with the same unruly brown hair and strangely contrasting blue/yellow eyes, was the flesh and blood image of the girl from her dream.

The dream girl squirmed nervously under the weight of Despara’s unblinking stare, flashing a nervous fanged grin. “H-hey, Adora?”

Chapter Text

APOKOLIPS

June 22, 00:00 UCT

Grayven’s heavy tread echoed with every step down the broad stairway of black granite, down into the very heart of the Divine Palace. To enter this Sanctum was a death sentence to all but two beings in existence, and even Grayven himself was only permitted by invitation.

The stairway levelled out at the threshold of a cavernous vault that dwarfed even his own audience chamber, filled with a dizzying web of holo-glyphs depicting every alphanumerical symbol known to sapient life. Each glyph formed but one link in a chain that seemed to stretch and branch into black infinity like a fractal. The sheer interweaving complexity would have broken a mortal mind. But of course, this was the product of no mortal mind.

For as long as Grayven could remember - which was longer than many species had possessed writing - his father had preached one deceptively simple creed; the universe was ultimately governed by mathematics. Each force and counter force was precisely balanced in one incomprehensibly vast and nigh perfect Equation. There was only one flaw in that Equation, one unaccountable variable that spread discord throughout the otherwise harmonious symmetry like a cancer: ‘Free Will’.

This was the Great Work of all Apokolips, to remove the single malformed cog in the cosmic clockwork and make all things One, to make all things Darkseid.

The Lord of Apokolips himself stood at the very center of the cyclone of data, a still eye of the mathematical storm. His back was turned to Grayven as he continued to silently sift through endless reams of shimmering data.

Grayven kneeled wordlessly. He knew it would not do to speak without leave.

After long moments, Darkseid finally broke the chill silence. His voice was like the stirring of a long dormant volcano.

S ᴘᴇᴀᴋ.

“Father, I wish to speak of the Etherian that recently attempted to ‘liberate’ Despara,” Grayven rasped. “The one they call ‘Catra’?”

Wʜᴀᴛ ᴏғ ʜᴇʀ?

“As Desaad is momentarily… indisposed, I humbly request your permission to conduct her interrogation myself?”

Sᴜʀᴇʟʏ Gᴏᴏᴅɴᴇss ᴄᴀɴ ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴜᴄʜ ᴍᴇɴɪᴀʟɪᴛɪᴇs?

“I believe my experience makes me uniquely suited to the task. She likely possesses knowledge pertinent to our plans.”

Darkseid paused in his calculations.

Oᴜʀ ᴘʟᴀɴs?

“The upcoming invasion of Etheria?” Grayven answered falteringly

Tʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ɴᴏ ɪɴᴠᴀsɪᴏɴ.

“Pardon?”

Oɴɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴄᴏɴғʟɪᴄᴛs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ Rᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ Lᴀɴᴛᴇʀɴ Cᴏʀᴘs ᴍᴜsᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴄᴇᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ. I ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪᴛ ᴀᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʀᴇsᴏᴜʀᴄᴇs ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴏ̨ᴜᴇsᴛ ᴏғ ᴏɴᴇ ɢʟɪᴛᴛᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴅᴜsᴛ sᴘᴇᴄᴋ.

 “It would only take a token force, Father. The Etherians are weak and simpering, and the Heart of Etheria-”

Nᴏ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ ᴇxɪsᴛs ʙʏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ, ɪᴛs ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴅɪғғᴜsᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴀɴᴇᴛ.

“It can be recreated in a millennium at most.” Grayven leaped to his feet, frustration mounting. “What is time to the Gods?!”

A ʀᴇsᴏᴜʀᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ sᴘᴇɴᴛ sᴇᴄᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ Aɴᴛɪ-Lɪғᴇ Eᴏ̨ᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

“But Father-”

E NOUGH !

Grayven instantly went silent, falling back to his knees. Darkseid turned, eyes smouldering warningly.

Yᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴘᴏssᴇssᴇᴅ ᴅʀɪᴠᴇ, Gʀᴀʏᴠᴇɴ, ᴅʀɪᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇʟᴅᴇʀ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀs sᴏʀᴇʟʏ ʟᴀᴄᴋ. Fᴏʀ ᴛʜɪs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜɪs ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ, I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ… ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴠᴇ. I ᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ɪɴᴅᴜʟɢᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ʙᴏᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛs ᴀᴛ ᴇᴍᴘɪʀᴇ-ʙᴜɪʟᴅɪɴɢ, ʀᴇsᴄᴜᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴏʙʟɪᴠɪᴏɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ʜᴀᴅ Gʀᴀɴɴʏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴘʟᴀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ Eᴛʜᴇʀɪᴀɴ ᴄʜᴀᴍᴘɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ sᴀʟᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴏᴜɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴘʀɪᴅᴇ. Bᴜᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ Dᴀʀᴋsᴇɪᴅ’s ᴘᴀᴛɪᴇɴᴄᴇ ʜᴀs ᴀ ʟɪᴍɪᴛ...

His father’s deep rumble somehow lowered even further.

Aɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ sᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴛ ɪᴛs ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴘɪᴄᴇ.

Grayven bit his tongue, keeping his jet-black eyes downcast.

Gʀᴀɴɴʏ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ Eᴛʜᴇʀɪᴀɴ ᴀs sʜᴇ sᴇᴇs ғɪᴛ.

Darkseid, turned his back on Grayven once more.

Aɴᴅ ᴡᴇ sʜᴀʟʟ ɴᴏᴛ sᴘᴇᴀᴋ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪs ᴀɢᴀɪɴ.

Grayven’s face was a mask of impassive marble. “As you command… Father.”

*

WATCHTOWER

June 21, 20:16 EDT

“Okay, let’s try this again,” Miss Martian sighed, taking a seat next to Tigress in the sterile interrogation room. “Why are you here?”

“You tell me, hun. You’re the ones who locked me up here,” Double Trouble answered. The shapeshifting mercenary tapped the bulky inhibitor collar clamped around their neck with the tip of their tail. “Don’t you have anything a bit more… slimming? This thing is really throwing off my whole aesthetic.”

“What were you doing on Earth?!” Tigress snapped. “Where did that Boom-Tube take Catra?! What did Desaad want with Halo?!”

“Oh, I’m sure Kitten’s landed on her feet somewhere, she always does,” Double Trouble purred. “As for the pervert in the purple bathrobe, no idea. Never met him before the other night. I was hired on Etheria by a cutie named Kanto.” They smiled dreamily. “Mmmm... Now there’s a man who knows how to dress.”

“If Darkseid needed a shapeshifter, why not just send my brother?” Miss Martian asked.

Double Trouble smiled sweetly. “I don’t know, hun. Maybe your brother’s a hack?”

“That. Is. Enough!” Tigress roared, slamming her palms against the table. “Either you start giving us some real answers or-”

“Tigress, please!” Miss Martian restrained her. “Try to calm-”

“Wait, wait! Time out!” Double Trouble groaned, steepling their fingers as they leaned over the table with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, girls. I’m just not feeling it.”

Tigress glared. “Feeling what?”

“The whole Good-Guard-Bad-Guard routine. It’s just so stale, derivative. We need to find a way to freshen it up a bit,” the shapeshifter mused. “Oooh, maybe I could interrogate one of you?”

“Excuse me!?” Miss Martian snipped. “This is not some… performance!”

“Not a good one, anyway,” Double Trouble muttered.

Artemis placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder before she could respond. “Maybe we should take a break.”

*

A few minutes later found M’gann and Artemis in the observation room, watching their shapeshifting prisoner preen in front of the one-way mirror.

“You know I know you’re there, right?” Double Trouble’s voice echoed over the intercom before Artemis muted them.

“Please tell you got something useful?”

“No such luck,” M’gann groaned, breaking off her psychic scan. She rubbed her temples, feeling the early stirrings of a migraine. “They keep mentally reciting monologues from something called The Tragical History of the Fire Princess.”

Artemis rolled her eyes. “Theatre kids. C’mon, let them stew for a bit. See how cocky they feel without an audience to play to. In meantime…”

“In the meantime,” M’gann didn’t need telepathy to finish Artemis’ thought. “I need to check in planetside.”

*

HOLLYWOOD

June 21, 17:32 PDT

Melog lay despondent at the foot of what had briefly been Catra’s bed at the Hub, their once shimmering mane now a dull grey in the harsh LA sun. Wingman curled at their side. The squat Corgi whimpered sympathetically, giving the alien fey a small lick on the nose.

“They haven’t moved since we got back from ‘Happyland’,” Glimmer whispered, peering into the silent bedroom. She recalled the fight with Intergang at the abandoned amusement park, the battle that had ended with Catra disappearing into a Boom-Tube.

“I hate to say it, but they may have to,” Bow replied softly. “Black Lightning only gave us until the end of tomorrow to get our stuff packed away aboard Darla before…”

“Before he chucks us off the planet,” Glimmer huffed bitterly, leaning against the wall as she sunk to the floor in a defeated heap. “This isn’t fair, Bow. We beat Horde Prime. We saved the universe, or at least the galaxy. This should all be over. But every time I think we’ve finally put all the fighting behind us, some new monster shows up and starts it all over again. Even if we do rescue Adora and Catra, what then? Darkseid just keeps coming after us forever?”

“Hey, we’ll cross that Boom-Tube when we come to it.”  Bow knelt to embrace her. He ran his fingers through her glittering pink hair. “When we rescue Adora and Catra.”

“Thanks, Beau,” Glimmer leaned into kiss him. “I needed to hear that.”

“Do you… need anything else?”

“Maybe later,” Glimmer smiled shyly, leaning into his rich warmth. “For now… just hold me.”

Recognized:

Miss Martian-B-Zero-Five

Glimmer and Bow immediately detangled themselves, racing down the stairway to the main living area just as the golden light of the Zeta-Tube was fading.

“Well?” Glimmer asked expectantly.

“I’m afraid we haven’t gotten any useful intel of Double Trouble yet,” Miss Martian answered. “They’re being… uncooperative.”

“There’s a shock,” Glimmer muttered.

“But what about Adora and Catra?” Bow asked. “What about the rescue mission?”

“Bow, Glimmer, I’m sorry,” Miss Martian said patiently. “But without more intel, we just can’t risk a mission to Apokolips.”

“So, you’re just going to do nothing?!” Glimmer demanded.

“Please try to understand,” Miss Martian answered haltingly. “Apokolips has been dealing in abducted meta-humans from Earth for years, and slaves from across the known galaxy for millennia before that. C'eridy'all knows we’d save them all if we could, but…”

Glimmer was quiet, not knowing how to respond to that.

“We’ll talk more later; I promise,” Miss Martian reassured. “But first, I need to check in with Blue Devil. Excuse me.” Her form turned translucent as she melted through the floor leaving the two Etherians alone.

“What now?” Bow asked, holding Glimmer close.

“We might have an idea?”

Glimmer and Bow turned to find Violet, Tara and Forager standing awkwardly at the foot of the staircase in their civies.

“We couldn’t help overhearing,” Violet said.

“Yes, we could.”

“Tara!”

“Tara Markov is correct, Violet Harper. Violet Harper, Tara Markov and Forager could have helped overhearing very much.”

“My point is we want to help,” Violet sighed. “With or without the League.”

“You… you’d do that?” Glimmer asked, drying an eye.

“I was trafficked to the League of Shadows,” Tara spoke hollowly. “Turned into a living weapon. If Artemis and Nightwing hadn’t been willing to take a chance on me…”

“Etheria Hive helped save Forager’s Earth Hive. Forager figures Earth Hive owes Etheria Hive one.”

“I know first-hand what it’s like to be in Granny’s clutches,” Violet said. “I couldn’t live with myself if I left Catra in that kind of Hell.”

“But what about Black Lightning?” Bow asked.

“Nightwing has thaught Forager an Earth expression that Forager thinks is most applicable in this situation: ‘Easier for sapient to beg forgiveness than to ask permission.’”

*

APOKOLIPS

June 22, 19:01 UCT

Catra had fought like a demon when they forced her into ‘The Box’. She’d raked its metal walls until her claws were chipped and her fingertips raw and bloody. Then she’d banged with clenched fists and roared her fury until her arms ached and her voice cracked. Finally, she’s sobbed until her tears ran dry. Now she was just very quiet and very still.

‘The Box’ was little more than a steel, lightless crate; just too narrow to sit down in and just too short to stand fully erect. Her muscles cramped from maintaining a constant stoop. The pitch-black heat smothered her despite the pitiful trickle of stale air being pumped in from somewhere. How long had she been here, hours, days? Maybe she’d always been here?

Blinding light abruptly invaded her world, cold metallic talons wrenching her from the darkness. She’d have been relieved if not for the snarling of the Parademons as they dragged her towards an interrogation chamber. She tried to struggle, as much against sheer exhaustion as her captives.

She ceased immediately once she spotted the tankard of water and platter of ration bars laid out on the interrogation table. She immediately fell on the meagre repast with desperate abandon, downing the tankard with a single chug. The water was off-color with an acrid aftertaste, but she was long past caring. She followed up by starting on the ration bars, wolfing them down, barely even pausing to chew.

“Really tearing into it, aren’t you?”

Catra glanced up, locking eyes with the woman who called herself ‘Despara’. She was so different from the Adora Catra had known, her tawny blond hair shorn down almost to the scalp, steel-blue eyes cool and calculating as she leaned against the opposite wall apprising her prisoner.

“You gonna torture me now or what?” Catra grunted through a mouthful of rations.

“No, I’m here to offer you a way out of that.” Despara pulled out a seat. “Let’s start with why you tried to abduct me?”

“I wasn’t trying to abduct you. I was trying to rescue you!”

“Rescue me from what, exactly?”

“Have you seen this place!?” Catra gestured to the slavering Parademons looming over her.

“It’s an interrogation chamber. It’s not supposed to be pleasant!”

“Oh right, like the rest of the planet’s much of an improvement?” Catra snorted before her face softened. “You must know you don’t belong here, Adora?”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

Catra noted she hadn’t asked her to stop. “Because it’s your name. I know this may come as a shock, but you are not a Fury of Apokolips. Granny kidnapped you from our homeworld over a month ago and wiped your memory.”

“Even if I believed you, why?  Why would you come to the very depths of Apokolips… just to save me?”

“Because…” Catra stared deep into those steel-blue eyes, her raw fingers tentatively reaching out. “I love you, Adora. I always have… and I always will.”

Despara was quiet for a very long time, her face cold before breaking into a quiet snicker.

“Seriously? That’s the best you could come up with?”

“Ugggh…” Catra groaned, facepalming with both hands. “How can you be brainwashed and still this fucking insufferable?”

“I am not insufferable,” Despara flustered. “Or brainwashed!”

“Chh, obviously. You’d need a brain first.”

“You’re impossible!”

“No, you’re impossible!”

The Parademons exchanged uncertain looks as the back and forth continued unabated for several minutes.

“What am I even doing?” Despara turned away, rubbing her temples. “Why am I bickering like a child with a prisoner, a complete stranger?”

“Because I’m not a stranger,” Catra said, softer now. “I know you, Adora. I know you felt that connection just now. Just like I know there’s no way you, of all people, can look at this nightmare and be okay with it. They can wipe your memory, but they can’t wipe your heart.”

Despara stared at the prisoner, uncertain what she felt. “If I can’t get anything useful out of you, Granny will assign someone else. You know what that means, don’t you?”

“Do you?”

Despara sighed, signalling the Parademons. The cybernetic fiends laid metallic talons on Catra’s shoulder.

“Wait!” Despara spoke.

The Parademons froze. Catra’s eyes hung on Despara expectantly.

“Move her to a standard cell,” Despara said, glancing down at Catra’s bloody fingertips. “And have a Fatherbox see to that.”

Catra smiled weakly. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me,” Despara turned her back as she left. “Your next interrogator will want you in one piece. At least… at first.”

*

WATCHTOWER

June 22, 16:27 EDT

Black Lightning and Tigress, AKA Jefferson Pierce and Artemis Crock, sat at the polished conference table. Each pouring over a laptop, masks laid aside. Leading two globetrotting super-teams involved a lot more admin than most people would have expected. The entire conference room was quite as a church on a Friday night save for the chattering of the keyboards.

Jefferson was the first to break the silence. “You think I was too hard on Glimmer and Bow the other day?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Artemis said innocently.

“You didn’t have to.”

“You might have been a little heavy handed.”

“They’re just kids, Artemis,” Jefferson sighed wearily. “They’re not ready for this kind of fight.”

“Neither was I when I started out.”

“That’s different. You and the rest of the original Team had guidance, oversight, a support structure.”

“Kinda my point, Jeff,” Artemis replied. “I’ve been going over M’Gann’s reports on recent Etherian history. When Horde Prime invaded, these ‘kids’ didn’t have a Justice League to fall back on, or two generations of heroic mentors to walk them through the whole saving the world deal. Hell, from what I gather, the closest thing Catra ever had to a mentor was a pathologically abusive witch, like a literal witch.”

Jefferson cocked a sceptical eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re making my argument for me?”

“I have a ‘but’,” Artemis countered. “But even without ‘guidance, oversight or a support structure’, they still managed to overthrow an interstellar fascist regime. So maybe don’t talk down to them like unruly teenagers?”

Jefferson smiled softly. “Or sidekicks?”

Artemis smirked. “You said it, not me.”

“ALERT!” Klaxons blared as the voice of the Watchtower’s computer rang throughout the station. “UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS OF MAIN HANGER DETECTED!”

Artemis reached for her mask. “Someone’s trying to break into the Watchtower!?”

Jefferson’s eyes narrowed. “Or break out.”

Black Lightning and Tigress burst into the main foyer bare seconds later, just in time to see the crystalline starcraft called ‘Darla’ soaring through the void beyond the main observation window. An indigo Boom-Tube opened silently in the hard vacuum before swallowing the alien vessel whole, leaving only empty black.

Tigress scowled behind her mask. “Jeff, remember all that stuff I just said about not treating them like unruly teens?”

“Yes?”

“Nevermind.”

*

APOKOLIPS

June 22, 20:37 UCT

This time, Despara took no chances. The flyer had deposited her just outside the Fury Barracks’ outer gate before rising again into the ochre smog. The guard on duty waved her through without so much as a second glance at her ID mark.  She suspected the guard had been assigned this relatively cushy post more because someone up the chain-of-command owed them a favour than anything else.

That was just the way of things on Apokolips. For all that the Justifiers preached the brutal efficiency of Darkseid’s regime, the ability to lick a superior’s boots was just as prized as any actual competence.

Despara shook her head as she shuffled through the barrack’s narrow corridors. Those kinds of thoughts were borderline blasphemy, but not nearly as blasphemous as the other thoughts running through her mind: thoughts of the feline prisoner she’d left for Desaad’s Inquisitor.

She paused at the adamantine door of the main common room. There was some kind of ruckus going on inside. Despara pressed an ear to the cold metal. From what she could make out, Kara had challenged Stompa to an impromptu arm-wrestling match, again. By the sounds of it, said match was on the brink of devolving into an all-out brawl, again.

Despara would have to play peacemaker, an almost welcome distraction right now. All she had to do was walk through that door, lose herself in the intra-ranks bickering and by the time the dust settled, she’d never have to worry about her strange dream girl again.

So why was she hesitating?

*

The floor of Catra’s new cell was hard, damp and freezing cold (seemed everything on Apokolips was either freezing or scalding), but at least it was wide enough to stretch out on. Must be the VIP suite, she thought bitterly. She drifted in dreamless half-sleep, only dimly aware of the cell door rattling open before she was once more wrenched callously from the darkness.

This time her escort were no mere Parademons, but Apokoliptans clad in faceless pointed hoods. Catra trashed and clawed rabidly as they dragged her through narrow shadowed hallways.

“Where are you taking me?!”

Catra’s escort gave no response, not even acknowledging that she had spoken. Their silence was more unsettling than any taunt or threat. They finally heaved her into cool chamber with a vaguely sterile scent. The room was pitch black save for a single pillar of light that shone down on a lone steel chair, metal shackles bolted to the head, arms, and footrests.

At the sight, Catra made one last desperate lunge for freedom, before a hooded guard struck her across the back of the head. By the time her head cleared, Catra had already been shackled to the restraining chair. Her faceless escort withdrawn back into the darkness from whence they came.

Catra tested her restraints, only to find her limbs completely pinned.

“Fuck,” she swore softly.

“Oh good, you’re still conscious,” purred a silky voice.

A slender figure in a flowing purple gown stepped out of the dark, tall and rail-thin, her spidery fingers steepled before ruby-red lips. Her raven-black tresses were crowned by an ornate spiral-horned headdress.

“Chh, nice hat,” Catra snorted.

“So brave, but then… they’re all brave in the beginning,” the purple lady purred. “My name’s Justeen, and I’ll be your Inquisitor for today.”

“You really expect me to tell you anything?”

“Oh?” Justeen’s head tilted bemusedly. “Like how you stole my mentor’s Fatherbox and Boom-Tubed your way here in some sad attempt the save your enthralled lover?”

Catra held her tongue as Justeen ran a black nail along her cheek.

“You see, ‘Catra’, we already know everything worth knowing about you, Etheria and your precious She-Ra. If I thought there was still anything useful in that pretty little skull of yours, I would have simply cracked it open and plucked it out by now.”

“Then why am I still even alive?! Why even…” Catra hesitated, she didn’t want to use the word, didn’t want to make it real.

Back in the Fright Zone, when Catra still served the Horde, she observed Shadow Weaver ‘questioning’ captured rebels more often than she’d liked. They almost never gave up any useful intel. Oh, most of them broke, sooner or later. But that breaking almost always took the form of validating whatever private suspicion or pet theory Shadow Weaver had been nursing that day, whether it was true or not.

Typical Shadow Weaver, she only listened to what she wanted to hear.

“What’s even the point of… this?!” Catra finally spat, trying to hold back the tremor in her voice.

“If you have to ask that question, you’ll never understand the answer.” With a gesture, Justeen summoned a hover-tray baring a range of sinister bladed implements. She carefully selected one resembling a curved serrated scalpel. “Let’s start with something simple, shall we?”

Justeen held up her left hand, its back towards Catra, with the thumb hidden and the four fingers extended. “How many fingers am I holding up?’

Before the bewildered Catra could even answer, a soft chime echoed through the dark chamber.

“Hold that thought,” Justeen sighed irritably, turning to open the door. “I said I wasn’t to be distur-”

A mailed fist came flying through the door and into Justeen’s face, swiftly followed by an armored Despara leaping over the Inquisitor’s crumpled form.

“Are you okay?” Despara asked, snapping Catra’s shackles before removing her skull-helm. “Can you walk?”

Catra leaped to her feet, shaking the lingering numbness out of her limbs. “I can now, thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Without a Fatherbox, we’ll have to make a run for the hangers and hijack a shuttle. If we make it to New Genesis space, there’s’ a chance they’ll let us claim amnesty.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then they’ll probably blast us to cosmic dust on sight,” Despara shrugged. “Still better than what Granny will do if we’re caught.”

“Wait!” Catra caught Despara by the arm. “Does this mean you remember me, remember us?”

“Honestly, I’m still not sure I even believe you.”

“Then… why are you helping me?”

“I… I don’t know,” Despara answered truthfully as she could, taking Catra’s hand. “Just hurry, while I’m still temporarily insane.”

*

Gilotina sat on her bunk in the Fury barracks, mechanically sharpening her sword. Her ice-blue eyes, once full of mirthful malice, were now hollow and empty. Big Barda knelt by her sister Fury’s side, holding a bowl of thin broth. She tried offering Gilotina a spoon of the pale liquid, only to be utterly ignored as Gilotina continued to stare off into nothingness, her blade worn down to practically a sliver.

“Gilly, please,” Barda pleaded. “You have to eat something.”

“Nobody home?”

Barda sprung to her feet, pivoting on her heels as Granny Goodness loomed over her.

“Granny!?” Barda saluted. “Ma’am?”

“Poor sweet Gilotina,” Goodness cooed. “The Lump did have a tendency to overdo it at times.”

“I’m certain with more time, we can-”

Goodness raised a hand to silence her. “There’s been time enough. I’ve arranged to have Gilotina transferred to Section Zero. Effective immediately.”

Barda’s eyes went wide with horror. “But… no one ever comes back from Section Zero.”

“Sad but true. Still, R&D can always use the fresh meat.”

“NO!” Barda snapped. “You can’t!”

Granny’s eyes narrowed lethally; her voice cold as death. “I beg your pardon, child?”

Barda froze, shocked by her own defiance. “I…”

Ting!

Goodness paused to consult her Fatherbox. “I’ll deal with your little outburst later, Barda. Right now, Granny has another wayward child to discipline.”

*

He stood at the very pinnacle of His Palace, overlooking the blazing fire pit that bubbled up from the raging heart of His world like the titanic funeral pyres of the Old Gods; a mere reflection of the Omega Fire that smouldered in His own eyes.

Radiating out from the central pit to the very edge of the horizon, spread the war factories and slums of Armagetto. Every day, millions of the Hunger Dog who dwelled there were worked to death, sacrificed to the Eternal Flame.

The fire pits of Apokolips were pure power, power unbound by conscience or restraint. But Darkseid… Darkseid was control.

“Father?”

He glanced over His shoulder; His son was bent on one knee with eyes downcast.

Wʜᴀᴛ ɴᴏᴡ, Gʀᴀʏᴠᴇɴ?

“I wish to apologize for my earlier outburst,” Graven said sombrely. “I realize now that I allowed my pride to master me.”

Darkseid turned, arching a stony brow in genuine surprise for the first time in over eight centuries. Such contrition was practically unknown from Grayven, though not unwelcome.

Aᴘᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛᴇᴅ.

“My gratitude, Father,” Grayven rose to his feet, clasping his hands behind his back. “You have no idea how much it means to hear you say that.”

Darkseid nodded in acknowledgement, turning His gaze back towards the fire pit.

Yᴏᴜʀ ɴᴇᴡғᴏᴜɴᴅ ʜᴜᴍɪʟɪᴛʏ ᴡɪʟʟ sᴇʀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʟʟ, Mʏ sᴏɴ… ɪɴ sᴍᴀʟʟ ᴅᴏsᴇs.

His low chuckle was like the grinding of tectonic plates.

Jᴜsᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ʟᴇsᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴀs ᴍᴇᴇᴋ ᴀɴᴅ sᴇʀᴠɪʟᴇ ᴀs KᴀʟɪURK-”

The God of Gods felt only a small coldness as the crystalline blade pierced his heart. It jutted from his chest like a shard of cosmic ice, already slick with Darkseid’s own molten ichor.

“Oh, don’t worry, Father,” Grayven taunted as he twisted the Promethean blade in his sire’s back, bringing fresh gouts of burning ichor. “I don’t plan to make a habit of it.”

Darkseid fell to his knees. He tried to summon the Omega Effect but his vision was already dimming as the coldness spread to his limbs. Was this death then? A novel experience.

“And so by the red light of the Fire Pits shall the Son slay the Father,” Grayven quoted with a vicious grin, wrenching his crystal blade free as his sire’s form slumped to the cold stone.

“FATHER!?!”

Grayven turned just as a panicked Kalibak came hobbling past. The elder brother fell to his knees, cradling his father’s still form.

“Father?! Father, say something,” Kalibak pleaded softly. “Please, speak to me.”

“St… stop…” Darkseid’s voice was weak and wet, ichor trailing from the corner of his lips in molten rivulets. “Stop w-whimperi…”

The Lord of Apokolip’s eyes went wide with awe, or perhaps fear, as though suddenly seeing something his sons could not. The embers of Omega flickered one last time before dying forever.

For Kalibak, this was a thing beyond comprehension. The cosmos could not lose its Center. All that was constant and immutable could not simply be snuffed out like a candle. He waited in long silence, certain that reality would reassert itself any moment and shatter this nightmare fancy. But the silence was shattered only by his brother’s raucous laughter.

“Oh, poor pitiable Kalibak,” Grayven chortled with cheerless mirth. “Even with his dying breath, Father snubs you.”

Kalibak threw back his shaggy mane and let loose a thunderous roar as he pounced, a lifetime of grief and shame subsumed in a moment of animalistic rage.

Grayven snapped his fingers.

BOOOOOM!!!

Kalibak was too late to divert his momentum, tumbling into the Boom-Tube before its fiery maw swallowed him whole.

Once the vortex collapsed, two Parademons emerged from the shadows, their movements oddly mechanical as they hefted Darkseid’s still form. Without so much as a word from Grayven, they unceremoniously tossed it over the precipice and into the raging fires below.

As it tumbled in free-fall, the god-corpse began to burn and crackle from within, consumed by the internal furnace of cosmic energy that in life had been held in check by sheer force of will. Soon, all that was left of the Lord of Apokolips a bright nimbus of blazing light. The dissipated essence was quickly consumed by the raging pit, just one more sacrifice to the Eternal Flame.

“Goodbye, Father,” Grayven intoned wistfully. “I’m afraid this universe simply wasn’t big enough for the both of us.”

*

“One… two… heave!” Catra and Despara wrenched the heavy maintenance cover aside before scrambling up through the manhole into a shaded alley. They sprawled themselves across the damp concrete, sucking in the acrid yet still relatively clean air.

“Remind me never to try sneaking through the Apokoliptan sewer system ever again!” Despara wheezed.

“At least you had shoes,” Catra retched, shaking her feet in disgust. “Where’s the spaceport?”

Despara pointed at a ten-foot chain-link fence at the end of the alley. Catra was on her feet in seconds. All she needed was a running start, leaping from one wall of the alley to the other before pirouetting over the spiked apex of the fence and landing on the other side in perfect silence.

The renegade Fury had to rely more on raw power then finesse. Despara’s superhuman leg muscles carried her over the fence with a single bound, the permacrete cracking under her feet as she touched down.

“Smooth,” Catra snorted.

“I haven’t exactly been trained for stealth-ops. Though it’s weird,” Despara surveyed the empty landing pads in the shadow of a looming conn tower. “There should be at least some guards?”

“Did you just say this is ‘too easy’?” Catra hissed. “Never ever say anything is ‘too easy’!”

“Why-”

BOOOOOM!!!

The Boom-Tube roared like a maddened demon as Granny Goodness’ armored form strode forth from the swirling vortex, brandishing a weighty Mega-Rod in her grasp.

“That’s why!” Catra hissed.

“Oh, how sharper than a serpent’s tooth,” Goodness lamented, shaking her silver-maned head. “I did so much for you, dearie. Rescued you from a life of idle degeneracy on a planetary backwater, gave you new purpose, a new identity. And this is how you repay Granny’s charity, running off again with this flea-ridden trollop?”

Despara’s body froze, mind racing as the realization hit her. “You knew… You knew all along! About me, Etheria…” She glanced at Catra. “Everything.”

“Knew?” Granny chortled. “Child, who do you think wiped your mind in the first place?”

“You… you used me!” Hot tears burned down Despara’s face. “I trusted you and you USED ME!!!”

“Of course, I used you, stupid girl!” Goodness rolled her eyes. “Haven’t you realized out how things work around here?”

“Adora, stay cool,” Catra whispered, adopting a defensive stance. “She’s trying to bait y-”

Despara let loose a piercing battle cry as she surged passed Catra with energy sword held high, only for Goodness to send the Fury skidding across the runway with a swipe of her Mega-Rod.

The young Fury’s armored god-form flickered as she staggered to her feet, muscles aching as she propped herself up with her energy sword.

“Still haven’t learned our lesson have we, dearie?” Goodness advanced on the stricken Despara, her weapon raised high. “Not to worry, I’ll just beat it into you as many times as it takes.”

Catra pounced upon Goodness’ back with a pantherish shriek, clambering and clawing all over the New God.

“Catra, grab her Fatherbox!” Despara cried.

“What’s do you think I’m trying to do!?” Catra clawed at Goodness’ belt. “She doesn’t have one!”

“You really didn’t think I’d bring him with me after what you did to poor old Desaad, did you, pussy?” Goodness grabbed Catra by the collar, raising the crackling tip of her Mega-Rod. “I always was more of a dog persAARGH!” Catra’s fang dug into Goodness’ hand, causing the New God to momentarily release her grip.

“CATRA, GET CLEAR!” Despara’s hefted her energy sword above her head, shifting it into a warhammer. Catra leapt clear. At the same moment, Despara hurled the warhammer with all her might, sending it flying past Goodness’s head.

“HA! Missed, dearie!” Goodness crowed, before the warhammer impacted against the base of the conn tower behind her. She just had time enough to turn as the whole structure came teetering down on her like a toppling redwood.

“Oh, fooey.”

“Adora!?” Catra raced through the settling dust to the Fury’s side. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… I’m fine… I just need…” Despara sighed, swaying on her feet as her armored form dissipated in a flash of crimson light, before feinting into Catra’s arms.

“You did good, babe,” Catra murmered softly, slinging her unconscious girlfriend over her shoulder as she staggered off. “I’ll take us the rest of the way.”

“Go on, run, fools! No one ever really escapes Apokolips!” Goodness let loose a shrieking cackle, pinned under the wreckage of the conn tower. “You hear me, Despara?! For the rest of your short miserable life, every time you close your eyes at night, every time you blink, you’ll be back here! WITH GRANNY!! FOREVER!!!

*

Catra halted at the hanger’s side entrance, readjusting Adora’s unconscious weight on her shoulders as she examined the access panel. For lack of any better ideas, she tried inputting her favorite number.

Access denied.

Catra growled, inputting another random set of digits.

Access denied.

Catra gave up and started pounding the panel in frustration. “Open, you stupid piece of sh-”

“Now, now, language.”

Yet another much younger Fury descended from the sky, her platinum blond hair tied back in a ponytail, and a puckish grin playing about her face. “There might be kids listening.”

Catra tensed, she only skimmed the Justice League’s files on Kryptonians when she’d hacked their system. But she recalled the scarlet crest on the young Fury’s uniform. Catra also recalled enough to know that if Blondie got serious, the Etherian would be dead before her nervous system even had a chance to register the pain.

The Kryptonian tossed something. “You’re going to need this.”

Catra caught a thin data-chip, staring at it blankly.

Blondie rolled her eyes. “For the door, genius?”

Catra kept her eyes locked on the Kryptonian as she cautiously slipped the data-chip into the access panel. The door hissed open behind her.

“Why?”

“Funny story, I was in the middle of a killer arm-wrestling match back at the barracks when I heard Dez here outside the common room. Her heart was racing off the scale before she bolted. I’ve been shadowing you two since you busted out…” the young Fury’s voice lowered now. “I overheard everything.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

The Fury’s face softened. “Dez was decent to me when she didn’t have to be. That’s not something you get a lot of in a place like this.” She cocked her ear. “Parademons, a whole squad of them incoming!”

“I don’t hear anything?” Catra cocked her own ears suspiciously.

“Stick around here and you will. Run, I’ll buy you time!”

Catra turned to make her and Adora’s escape before hesitating. “What about you?”

“Got nowhere to run to.” The Kryptonian flashed a small sad smile before rising back into the smog choked sky.

*

Catra panted heavily as she raced down the long inner corridor, the unconscious Adora still slung over her shoulders. The entrance to the hanger was barely sixteen paces away now, and beyond it a pristine shuttle just waiting to be commandeered. It was all Catra could do to keep her heart from bursting with premature relief.

“Hold on, Adora,” she panted. “We’re almost-”

Catra’s vision flared red as she was knocked back by a wall of pain and light.

“Adora!?” Catra fretfully checked the prone Adora. “Please be okay, please be okay!”

Once Catra was satisfied Adora hadn’t sustained any further injuries, she gently propped her unconscious form against a steel grey wall before hurling herself against at the hanger entrance. Again, she was repulsed by the crimson force-field blocking their escape. Again and again, she clawed and raged against the unyielding energy barrier before eventually crumbling to her knees on the brink of despair. The shuttle lay paces away but may as well have been on the other side of the galaxy.

“So near and yet so far, eh Catra?” rasped a softly mocking voice.

He loomed at the end of the far corridor, a titan form with skin like polished purple marble and crowned with a mane of silver. A sardonic leer crept about his thin lips.

“You better keep the heck back if you wanna keep both eyes!” Catra snarled, hackles raised, fangs bared, face a mask of feral desperation.

The New God cocked his head quizzically. “You don’t recognize me, do you?”

“You’re Grayven, one of Darkseid’s brats. I’ve seen your propaganda poster.”

“I suppose I should not be surprised,” Grayven mused, raising a hand to exam it like some half-forgotten relic. “I must appear very different to you, ever since My father reconstituted Me in this approximation of My original vessel.”

Something cold slithered in the pit of Catra’s stomach, her free hand unconsciously reaching for the small scar at the nape of her neck. “Vessel?”

“You may have forgotten Me, but I will never forget you, Catra. I knew you would inevitably come for your precious Adora. Because just like her, you are oh so very predictable… Little Sister.”

Catra’s hands trembled. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be happening. “No… nonono.”

“As I told you once before, Catra, there is no darkness where My Light cannot find you, no distance where My Hand cannot reach you!” His low rasp shifted into a booming baritone, eyes suddenly blazing bright emerald.

“Prime sees all!”

Chapter Text

ETHERIA

May 15, 17:42 UTC

ONE YEAR AGO

Etheria was dying.

Towering pillars of emerald fire burst from its fracturing crust to pierce the starry skies. Across the planet, Etherians held their loved ones close as the planet beneath their feet shook itself apart. They cried out for deliverance. They cried for mercy from One who had none, One alone who’s voice rose not in despair or terror, but in triumphant rapture...

“CRY, ETHERIA! CRY FOR PRIME’S MERCY! THERE WILL BE NO COMFORT FOR YOU!”

Horde Prime watched as the pitiful remains Etheria’s ‘Great’ Rebellion huddled in the gorge below, their world literally crumbling around them. His treacherous brother’s purple-haired harlot squirmed helplessly in His grasp, though not unpleasantly. A pity He could not save her… for later.

Alas it could not be helped. In just a few moments, Etheria would crack like an egg. The power contained within its Heart would burn across the stars, purging the galaxy of life. All who had defied and denied Him would be swept away in a single stroke. No more Lanterns, no more Reach, no more false gods - Old or New - and most importantly, no more She-Ra.

“ALL THE UNIVERSE WILL BE CONSUMED IN UNDYING FLAME!”

Then, everything stopped.

The planet’s death screams fell silent. Pillars of eldritch fire evaporated like the morning dew, replaced by motes of soft golden light that drifted through the air like snowflakes. Prime dropped the Tech Princess, brushing the offending matter away. His clones simply gawked at the spectacle like awe-struck children. Why didn’t the fools do something?

Then she came.

She strode radiantly out of the planet’s depths, like one of the Old Gods arising from the ashes of Ragnarok. The cracked stone bloomed to life with her every step. With a gesture, she sent a lance of golden light firing into the sky where it struck His flagship hanging overhead.

He had expected the Velvet Glove to explode in a fiery cataclysm, sending chunks of molten slag reigning down on them all. Instead, titan vines burst from His flagship’s hull, enveloping the entire structure in verdant foliage until it resembled nothing so much as a giant floating tree. He stared in bewilderment. The site was absurd, obscene. What was even the point of this display?

Then she struck the ground, unleashing another wave of life-giving energy that swept from one horizon to the other. Prime staggered backwards, tripping over something to land on His backside amid the new-born greenery.

That’s she approached Him.

"Though all is reduced to rubble, Prime shall rise again. So, it has been, and so it always shall be,” He snarled defiantly. Though perhaps the threat would have carried more weight had He not been crawling in the grass like an animal.

"No. You're wrong,” she spoke softly, without triumph or malice, kneeling to meet His eyes. “It's time for you to go.”

As she cupped His cheek in her hands, He reached out to his clones. He tried to escape, cast His consciousness into another vessel, only to realize with sharp terror that He had somehow been severed from the Hive Mind. For the first time in as long as He could remember, He was alone, truly, irrevocably alone.

She suffused His entire being with light. Not the cold still perfection of His own Light, but a light that lived and danced and burned. Oh, how it burned. So, for the first time in as long as He could remember, Horde Prime screamed.

And then… Oblivion.

*

-------

------- --, --:-- ---

The entity once called Horde Prime abruptly found itself alone in a void without sight, sound or sensation. There was no cold, no darkness, for cold and darkness would be something. There was only absence and negation of all material existence. Here, finally free of the limits of physical neurology, it remembered everything...

*

The world had no name, for the Wise held that there were no other worlds from which to distinguish it. A cold and dying sun had left the planet’s surface frigid and barren since time immemorial. Life had drawn inward, colonizing the endless system of caverns that honeycombed the depths. Geothermal vents formed the foundation stone of a rugged ecosystem that clung stubbornly to survival.

Civilisation dwelt there as well, a people so old even legend no longer recalled when their ancestors had walked beneath naked skies. The stone ceilings of the upper caverns marked the absolute limits of their universe. At least they had, before the coming of a creature from the infinite gulfs beyond, a creature not of flesh and blood but of steel and wires.

The mechanoid had called itself the ‘Collector of Worlds’, in what few isolated attempts at communication had been attempted. The Collector had offered no explanation or justification for spiriting away the great capital city of Spelea, even when warriors from neighbouring cavern-cities had mounted a last desperate assault and the alien’s titanic voidcraft.

Forefront in the offensive had been Seferus Kur, Lord Protector of the Realm. When he and his forces had been shot out of the air by lancing spears of light, all had expected the Collector to turn its wrath on the remaining cities. Instead, it had simply completed its task before disappearing back into the infinite gulfs from whence it came, leaving only a gaping wound in the world where the great city had once hung. For the first time in their recorded history, the cavern dwellers had glimpsed the cold stars and shuddered.

But that had been weeks ago. Now Seferus Kur’s younger son stood before a mirror of polished obsidian, reflection pensive as it stared back at him questioningly.

Anillus Kur was, by the standards of his species, utterly unremarkable. His eyes were pale emeralds set in an even paler chiropteran visage. His scalp was bare save for a narrow strip of snowy hair running to the base of his neck. Some of his peers had described him as ‘slender’, which Anillus knew was simply a polite way of saying ‘scrawny’. His vast leathery wings cloaked tightly about the gangly embarrassment of a body, hiding it from the outside world’s gaze.

Knock-knock!

“Enter.”

Hec-Tor Kur brushed aside the beaded curtain that hung across the stone doorframe. In every way that Anillus was narrow, his elder brother was broad; both in body and in personality. His dark leathery wings flared back, proudly displaying a barrel chest encased within the ceremonial armour of House Kur. His hair strip was dyed an electric blue and styled in a spiky mohawk. He locked Anillus into something halfway between a bear hug and a headlock.

“How’re you holding up, little brother?” Hec-Tor asked with uncharacteristic softness.

“I am... as well as can be expected,” Anillus lied. Not quite a lie, but closer to the truth than he cared to admit.

“C’mon, we better start making for the Temple...” Hec-Tor let out one of his small snorting laughs. “You know what a stickler father was for punctuality?”

*

The Kur brothers’ journey had been largely uneventful. Soaring through the vast city caverns, their wings carried them on thermal updrafts from the planet’s core. Inverted towers carved from megalithic stalactites hung from the cave roofs, lit by phosphorescent crystals of every hue and shade imaginable.

One tower stood alone and without light. Its stone walls were inscribed with an ancient symbol, two wings of pure crimson: the symbol of the Goddess Horokoth.

The brothers alighted on a platform of cold polished onyx. They were greeted by a tall gaunt figure, impossibly aged. She gripped a dark blue crystal sphere in her long bony talons, her face hidden behind a crimson veil.

They bowed. “Sorceress,” Hec-Tor spoke deferentially.

The ancient oracle’s bony fingers beckoned silently as she led them deeper into the Temple of Horokoth, through dim corridors that eventually opening into a vaulting chapel. The two brothers cloaked their wings tight against the sudden chill as they made their way to the head of the silent congregation. Upon an altar of black stone, marbled with crimson, lay the cold still form of Seferus Kur.

Normally the ceremony would have been conducted mere days after the deceased’s passing, officiated by one of the low priests and attended only by closest kin. But such humble private grief would not do for the ‘Hero of Spelea’. Representatives from across the cavern cities, including the surviving High Council formed a quiet procession, murmuring their condolences to the two brothers.

Anillus hated every minute of it. Half the attendees here had been avowed rivals of his father. Now the hypocrites sung praises to a man they’d jealously reviled in life. Not that Anillus himself was much better.

Hec-Tor wouldn’t understand. The elder Kur son had enlisted almost the day he’d come of age. Over the last few years, Hec-Tor had barely even visited home except for birthdays, annual festivals or to introduce the latest love of his life. There’d been more than few of those. Hec-Tor hadn’t had to live with an aging bitter old man.

Anillus, on the other wing, could count on one hand the number of times he’d left his home city. All he had to show for himself was a rather unglamorous job at a local machine shop, hardly befitting the son of the Lord Protector. Something his father had taken every opportunity to remind him of.

He’d never realized how much he’d actually resented his father, until the day a sombre Guard Militant had delivered the news in the aftermath of the Collectors invasion. Anillus had felt some twisted knot in the pit of his stomach finally unravel after long years of walking on eggshells, of stoically enduring his father’s constant calculated humiliations.

The sickening release had quickly given way to an ever deepening spiral of guilt. Anillus had barely slept or eaten in the last few weeks. Every stranger’s kind word, every attempt by Hec-Tor to cheer him had only made it worse. His malaise wasn’t born of grief but shame. What kind of son finds relief in his father’s death?

“We have gathered this hour to commend our fallen into the Wings of Horokoth,” the Sorceress spoke in sepulchral tones, clutching the crystal globe close to her withered bosom. “Let the First Born step forward!”

Hec-Tor did as bidden. An acolyte handed him a torch of blue flame as he approached the altar. He lowered the torch, igniting an azure pyre that soon consumed the mortal remains of his father.

“May he rest in Eternal Sleep with the Goddess,” the Sorceress intoned. “As we all shall when She brings the Final Dark at the End of All Things.”

Empty words, Anillus thought, stifling his own blasphemy. But it was true, wasn’t it? Horokoth had not spoken to them since the Elder Days, and even then, only in garbled prophecies whose nameless oracles had long turned to ash themselves. When he was a child, Anillus had prayed every night to the Dark Mother. Not for wealth or long life, simply for connection, some sign he was not alone in the cold dark. And every night, She had answered with silence.

Despite it all, Anillus did not consider himself an atheist. Logic dictated that the Goddess must have existed at some point. Otherwise, how could anything else have come to exist? Perhaps She was long dead? Perhaps She simply no longer cared. Perhaps She never did?

BOOOOOM!!!

The distant thunder shattered Anillus’ thoughts. The Temple’s roof shook, tremors growing in intensity until the ornately carved ceiling began to crack.

“CAVEQUAKE!” Hec-Tor instinctively took charge, grabbing Anillus by the arm as he dragged his brother towards the nearest exit. “Everyone clear the temple!”

The fleeing congregants spread their wings as they abandoned the temple. Across the cavern city, every able body did the same, carrying the wingless and infirm where they could. Better to risk being struck by falling debris in mid-glide than be trapped a tower unmoored from the cavern ceiling.

“I don’t understand!?” Anillus cried, trying not to lose himself to the plague of panic sweeping the city. “There hasn’t been a cavequake in gener-”

Burning light, brighter and harsher than any glow-crystal, flooded the city as the cavern roof began to crumble. Entire towers were sent screaming down into the yawning abyss. Anillus threw up his arms, futilely attempting to shield his eyes from the stinging glare.

Shapes prowled though the blinding haze like cave-sharks though the undersea. They seemed far too bulky to move through the air with the ease they did. One of them turned and came barrelling towards Anillus, a misshapen mass of flesh and metal on insectoid wings. It shrieked hatefully, fanged maw gaping hungrily.

“LOOKOUT!!”

Hec-Tor shoved Anillus clear. The beast’s fangs sunk deep into the elder Kur’s right shoulder, drawing gouts of emerald blood and an agonized wail.

Anillus tumbled through the sky, landing hard on a rocky promontory before slowly staggering upright. His wing bent at an unnatural angle. He was surprised; should there not be more pain?

“Hec-Tor...?” He mumbled. “HEC-TOR!?!”

Two of the half-metal demons turned, screaming down on Anillus. He tried to scrabble for cover, seeking a hiding place through watery eyes, but the burning light saturated every shadow.

The twin devils landed with deceptive grace, stalking leisurely towards their prey. They bared their fangs, reaching out with emerald-slick talons.

“Hold!”

As the new voice rang out imperiously, the demons froze. They parted reverently, making way for a being unlike any Anillus had ever seen. He towered over the prostrate fiends, over everything. His polished purple skin was like living marble. His star-frost hair blazed like a halo of cold fire. He was the most beautiful - and most terrifying - creature Anillus had ever beheld.

The God smiled beatifically, extending a hand. “Rejoice, Little One…” He intoned in cool bell-like tones. “For Grayven, Son of Darkseid, has come among you.”

*

A year passed, an eye-blink in the reckoning of gods or galaxies, but enough to make the cavern dwellers’ society almost unrecognizable. Not that Anillus would have known; he had not seen his homeworld since the coming of the Gods. He had been among the first wave of ‘tribute’ offered to placate the New Pantheon. Apokolips had been a revelation, pillars of flame that licked the stars, weapon factories that stretched across continents. An entire world dedicated to the creed of eternal war. What kind of beings could even conceive such a thing? What enemy could be so terrible as to justify destruction on such a universal scale?

He learned the answer soon enough. These were not the empty abstractions worshipped in the silent temples of his own people. They were True Gods, beings of incorruptible flesh who warred and loved across the expanse of an endless cosmos. They could literally step from one world to the next. Their machines could think.

“Servitor-Alpha-5891!”

Anillus nearly gave himself a concussion, sharply striking the back of his skull against the low access hatch.

“Servitor-Alpha-5891!” The synthesized voice repeated in a rapid-fire mechanized staccato “Acknowledge!”

“Acknowledged, Brother Eye,” Anillus groaned, rubbing his head as he looked up.

The crimson optic lens regarding him coolly from the upper corner of the access junction. As a technician, Anillus knew the Twilight’s internal sensors already monitored the entire crew. The omnipresent eyes of the ship’s living computer were technically superfluous; they were there to be seen as much as to see.

“Report-to-bridge-within-fifty-two-cycles!” Brother Eye shrieked, impatience and paranoia literally hardwired into his personality. “Failure-to-comply-will-result-in sixteen-megacycles-sensory-deprivation!”

“Understood,” Annilus hastily resealed the power node, gathering up his tools before racing through the ship’s red-lit corridors.

The Twilight was one of the largest and most well-armed dreadnoughts in the Apokoliptan fleet, as befitted its commander. It was not built as a means of transport; the Gods had Boom-Tubes for that. No, like all Apokoliptan warships, the Twilight was built to punish. The disadvantage of the vessel’s imposing size was that it took Anillus just a little under fifty cycles to reach the main bridge, clutching his folded tool kit to his heaving chest. He had barely turned the last corner before being halted by the metallic talon of one of the Parademons guarding the bridge.

The creature lifted Anillus bodily from the deck, snarling viciously. Its toothy maw stank of rotting meat. Images of emerald-slicked fangs flashed across the slave-technician’s memory.

“I-I am expected.”

The Parademon’s head tilted oddly, like an animal listening for some sound only it could hear, before unceremoniously dropping Anillus to the deck.

The bridge’s steel doors ground open, allowing a trembling Anillus entry into the cathedral like chamber. His breath caught in his throat. A glittering starscape spanned across his vision, a prismatic kaleidoscope of rainbow nebula littered with the still molten remains of slain worlds.

It took a moment to realize he was staring at a colossal viewscreen; he’d never been to the bridge before. At the center of the command deck towered a lone throne, silhouetted against the virtual cosmos. The throne rotated to reveal the living eidolon who commanded the Twilight.

“Welcome, Servitor,” Lord Grayven spoke, His words little more than a rasping whisper. He rarely had need to raise his voice. When the Son of Darkseid spoke, all listened.

For one long frozen moment, Anillus gaped in awe at the New God, before falling upon his knees. His forehead pressed hard against the cool deck-plate as he tried to still his trembling body.

“My Lord,” he whispered reverently.

“Rise.”

Anillus did as he was bidden, eyes still downcast.

“Turn.”

“M-my Lord?”

Lord Grayven twirled a long, polished finger. “Turn.”

Anillus again did as he was bidden, giving his God a full view of his slender form.

“Hold.”

Anillus froze, his back turned to the throne. He heard the God’s massive form rise from the throne before he felt the great hand pressed against his back. His breath caught. The twin scars running down his back twinged beneath his technician’s tunic.

“You are of the cavern world, are you not?” Lord Grayven’s breath was hot on Anillus’ neck. “Where are your wings?”

“I… I was told they would serve no purpose on a ship-based assignment, so, my supervisor…” Anillus’ voice went dry, choked by memories of hurt and shame. “Had them removed.”

“They were wise. All that serves no purpose is an imperfection.” Lord Grayven circled until He was face to face with Anillus, tilting the technician’s chin until their gazes met. “Do you not desire perfection?”

Anillus stared up into the sculpted visage of living marble. “More than anything, Lord.”

“What is your name, Little One?”

“A-Alpha-58-”

Lord Grayven’s eyes hardened slightly. “I did not ask for your designation.”

“I… I am Anillus.” The word tasted unfamiliar on his lips after so long. “Anillus Kur, my Lord.”

“That’s better.” Lord Grayven turned back to admire the virtual starscape, arms folded behind him. “I’ve been reading your service file, young Anillus. You demonstrate a remarkable technical aptitude for someone from such an… undeveloped culture.”

“I exist to serve, my Lord.”

“Eager to please, too? I like that.” Lord Grayven chuckled indulgently, before the bridge’s steel doors ground open once again. “Ah, right on time.”

Two figures approached the throne. The first was tall and gaunt with loose jaundiced skin. His compatriot was broader, hunched, and hairy. They both bowed low, though not fully prostrating themselves as Anillus had.

“Ah, gentlemen,” Lord Grayven spread his arms in welcome. “Anillus, these are Mokkari and Simyan, my scientific advisors.”

Mokkari eyed the slave like a particularly curious specimen. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

Simyan grunted inquisitively.

“Young Anillus will be serving as my personal attendant from now on.” Lord Grayven rested a hand on the slave’s shoulders. “He will be tending to my every need.”

Anillus blinked; he couldn’t have that heard right, could he?

“If such is your pleasure, my Lord,” Mokkrai replied non-committedly.

“Now gentlemen, I require a status report on Project Ordu,” Lord Grayven pressed a datapad into a stunned Anillus’ hands, bending down to whisper. “Take notes.”

*

Anillus curled in the crook of a large observation port. Far below, detonations large enough to consume cities silently blossomed like fiery flowers before fading again into dim night. He could not recall the name of the planet off hand. Lord Grayven had graced so many such worlds with His presence over the years, they had all started to blur together.

Lord Grayven was currently conferring with Mokkrai and Simyan regarding ‘Project Ordu’. His Master had grown increasingly secretive about that particular project, so Anillus had found himself with a rare moment of free time.

The sight of a world dying was almost beautiful if one could mentally divorce it from the almost incalculable loss of life it entailed. Life on Apokolips made such intellectualization necessary. Empathy was like a rodent’s incisors, it needed to be constantly filed down lest it overgrow and cripple the beast.

Fortunately, the task that became easier with time, and the rewards had been well worth it. Over the last two years, Lord Grayven had shown him such wonders… such pleasures. Was his soul really so much to ask in exchange?

Anillus regarded his reflection, clad in little more than a golden harness and a few strategically placed strips of ebon cloth. The outfit left less to the imagination than he was entirely comfortable with but mirrored Lord Grayven’s own, properly marking him as an extension of the New God’s will.

“Servitor-Anillus!”

“Yes, Brother Eye?”

“Report-to-medbay-for-complete-physical-within-one-megacycle!”

Anillus clenched his shoulders, repressing an anxiety spike. His years of service to the Gods of Anti-Life had instilled a bone-deep dread of doctors. His last physical had involved far more needles than seemed strictly necessary, taking samples of fluids he’d had not even realized he had. Still…

“Acknowledged,” he uncurled himself from his nook and set down a red-lit corridor.

Anillus had been walking for only a few moments before his mind started to wander. Little harm in that, he knew the twisting paths of the Twilight well enough to walk them blindfolded. Or so he’d thought before the lights flickered and died without warning, plunging him into Stygian blackness.

“Brother Eye?”

No response.

Anillus backed quietly into a side-corridor, pressing close to the bulkhead. He crept a few feet before a cold metallic claw clamped down on his jaw.

“Hey, little brother,” rumbled a low voice in his pointed ear. “Miss me?”

The steel claw unclamped as Anillus turned. His vision was based as much on heat as light, so he had no trouble recognizing the warm aura of that familiarly porcine flat-nosed face bent in a garrulous smile.

“Hec-Tor?!”

“Don’t act too surprised,” Hec-Tor snorted, about to slap his brother across the back when his hand stilled. Hec-Tor's expression harden at the sight of the pale twin scars running down Anillus’ back. “Wings of Horokoth,” he swore softly, voice trembling with rage. “What did they do to you?”

Anillus stiffened self-consciously. “What was done to you?”

“Oh this?” Hec-Tor flexed the clawed mechanized appendage that now served as his right arm. “Just something I threw together. Guess neither of us got away without scars, eh?” Hec-Tor grabbed Anillus’ wrist without warning, dragging him through the lightless corridor. “But c’mon, we don’t have time to jaw.”

“Where are we going?!” Anillus demanded hotly.

“Shuttle bay. We gotta rendezvous with the rest of my cell and get off before the bomb blows.”

“Bomb?!”

“Would you keep it down?” Hec-Tor hissed. “In a few minutes, this ship and everything on it is going to be cosmic dust.” He smiled grimly. “Including Darksied’s preening brat!”

“Lord Grayven?”

Flashing lights swept the junction ahead, mounted on the eyeless heads of a pair of prowling Parademons. Hec-Tor pressed Anillus against the bulkhead, still and silent as statues. The Parademons had almost moved on when…

“HELP!!!”

The voice reverberated through the corridors like a Boom-Tube. It took Anillus a moment to realize it had been his own. The Parademons turned as one, search lights locked on the brothers, fanged maws salivating.

Hec-Tor pushed his brother to the deck. “WHAT’RE YOU DOING!?!”

The elder Kur flared his great leather wings, mecha-claw shifting into a particle cannon as he opened fire. The darkened corridor blazed blood red as Hec-Tor managed to clip the first Parademon, only for the second to body-check him into the bulkhead. Hec-Tor cried out as metal talons dug into his prosthetic. The raging Parademon smashed the artificial limb repeatedly against the bulkhead until nothing was left but shrapnel shards and dangling sparking wires.

"Brother Eye, light,” rasped a voice in the darkness.

Illumination flooded the corridor. Hec-Tor slumped limply on the deck, wheezing weakly, cradling the smoking cybernetic port that was his right shoulder. Anillus had always remembered his elder brother as a towering, barrel-chested giant. He was surprised how gaunt, how haggard, how… small Hec-Tor looked in the full light.

Lord Grayven strode into the pooling light, flanked by yet two more Parademons. “My, what curious quarry we’ve managed to ensnare?”

Hec-Tor snorted grimly, wincing only slightly as a Parademon yanked him roughly to his feet.

“Does something amuse you, wretch?” Lord Grayven asked.

Hec-Tor snorted again. “Just imagining the look on your purple puss when this scow goes up like a birthday bonfire.”

“I assume you’re referring to this?” Lord Grayven allowed a small, jury-rigged device to clatter harmlessly to the ground. Anillus recognized it as a small explosive device, not especially powerful itself but had managed to rupture the Twilight’s radion core…

“I’ve known about your insurgent plot for weeks now. The rest of your pitiful rebel band have already been taken into our custody,” Lord Grayven sneered. “You were doomed the moment you even conceived this folly.”

“So, you set all this up as some kind of trap, just for me?” Hec-Tor snorted defiantly. “I’m flattered?”

“Don’t be. This was no trap, but a test…” Lord Grayven’s eyes turned to Anillus. “For him.”

Anillus blinked. “Me?”

“You were offered the chance to escape with your misguided sibling, all you had to do was remain silent. But you chose to stay true to My Light. You chose the Grace of your God above the ephemeral bonds of blood.” Lord Grayven ran a finger along Anillus’ cheek. “You have pleased me, Little One, and will be rewarded beyond measure for your faith.”

At a snap of Lord Grayven’s fingers, the Parademons began dragging Hec-Tor off.

“Wait,” Hec-Tor spoke weakly.

Lord Grayven nodded. Hec-Tor paused before Anillus, glaring coldly before spitting wordlessly in his younger brother’s face.

“How crude,” Lord Grayven drawled, signaling the Parademon to be on their way with the prisoner.

Anillus was numb as he wiped the spittle from his face, watching his brother be carted off. Grayven’s titan arms curled about his shoulders.

“Do not mourn for him, Little One,” cooed Anillus’ God. “For he has chosen Darkness, and so to Darkness shall he be consigned.”

*

Anillus awoke in a cold sweat, blazing emerald flames haunted his nightmares, along with his brother’s hateful gaze. But no, that was years ago. Or was it just now? Memory and dream bled into one another so easily. And he was no longer certain they were all entirely his own. He steadied his breathing, curled under a thin blanket in the dark alcove adjoining Lord Grayven’s private chambers on the Throneworld.

Hec-Tor was long dead and Lord Grayven was far from Apokolips, leading a campaign against a vainglorious species who hubristically styled themselves ‘Guardians of the Universe’.

It was unusual for Lord Grayven to leave Anillus behind for such an important campaign. In the long years since he had been first summoned to the bridge of the Twilight, Anillus had barely left his Lord’s side. Anillus was certain he was being punished for one of his myriad shortcomings. If anything, he was surprised this had not happened sooner. How could a God look upon such a wretch and see anything but flaws?

Lord Grayven had rescued Anillus from a brutish - and doubtless short - life of unforgiving drudgery out of sheer pity. But even the forbearance of a God has limits, and Anillus could not help but prove inevitably inadequate to the task of repaying such divine mercy.

Anillus’ heart had finally decelerated, his breathing deep and slow. He was just about to drift back into the warm shallows of unconsciousness, when he abruptly realized something.

His was not the only breathing in the dark alcove.

Before Anillus could react, hairy crushing limbs clamped down about him, squeezing air from his lungs, pinning his arms, muffling his desperate screams.

“Careful with our template, dear Simyan,” drawled an unseen voice Anillus recognized as Mokkrai. “One hair out of place, we’ll pay for it with our heads!”

Simyan grunted irritably in response. Anillus squirmed futilely in the ape-god's grip, gagging on the animal reek of Simyan’s bristled paws.

“Yes, he wouldn’t have been my first choice either, but ours is not to question.” Mokkrai rustled for something in the darkness. “Fatherbox, if you would?”

BOOOOOM!!!

The sudden fiery light of an erupting Boom-Tube blinded Anillus as he was unceremoniously hauled through like so much uncooperative luggage. The three of them were already on the other side of the vortex well before his eyes had time to properly adjust.

The ornate stone chamber was vast and almost unrecognizable. At the far end stood a row of cylindrical vinculums, filled with murky green amniotic fluid and vaguely organic forms. White light, harsh enough to make the crimson winged sigils adorning the carved wall seem almost black by comparison, flooded the chamber. Yet no matter how much it had changed, Anillus could never truly forget this place…

The Temple of Horokoth.

“Like what we’ve done with the place?” Mokkrai asked. “I can’t tell you how much bother it is, reattaching a building to the roof of a cave.”

“Why have you brought me here?” Anillus demanded haughtily, as Simyan strapped him to a cold metallic chair at the base of a pillar of cables winding upward. “When Lord Grayven learns of this affront, His anger will be unima-”

“Lord Grayven is dead.”

Anillus’s throat ran dry. “You… You’re lying!”

“It’s true,” Mokkrai replied silkily. “It happened almost half a megacycle ago.”

Simyan ooked, tightening the strap about Anillus’ skull.

“Fine, fifty-two point sixteen cycles ago!” Mokkrai rolled his eyes. “Must you be so pedantic?”

“H-How…” Anillus managed weakly.

“I would love to regal you with the whole grisly tale but as my chronologically conscious colleague constantly reminds me, time flies.” Mokkrai checked his timepiece. “We don’t have long before Lord Grayven’s essence is fully consumed by the Void.”

“I-I don’t understand,” Anillus pleaded. “You said He was dead!?”

“No one expects you to understand, meat. You’re simply a convenient receptacle.” Mokkrai snapped the timepiece shut. “Simyan, activate the Soul Siphon!”

Something cold and sharp pierced the back of Anillus’ neck, sliding between vertebrae to release a thousand nano-filaments directly into his brain stem. He felt every nerve in his body simultaneously light up…

And then go dark.

*

As the darkness lifted, flames danced before his eyes. Anillus found himself inexplicably upon the bridge of the Twilight, klaxons blazing as sparks flew from multiple consoles. Apokolitan officers clung to their stations. The ship shook violently as though in the jaws of some cosmic beast.

“Status report!” Lord Grayven’s voice rasped, though He was nowhere to be seen.

“Lanterns have broken through our port flank,” replied the ship’s gunner, her auburn hair tinged with soot. Her eyes narrowed, stinging smoke obscuring the read out.

“Call back the attack wings!” Though the voice was unmistakably Grayven’s, only now did Anillus realize the words had issued from his own lips. “Have them reinforce our flanks!”

“They not responding, my Lord!” The comm-officer frantically tried his console. “I can’t raise any-”

The communication console blasted apart, showering the screaming comm-officer with molten shrapnel.

“Worthless,” hissed the voice of Grayven.

“My Lord!” The gunner tried to keep the panic out of her voice. “The Lanterns are charging weapons! THEY’RE GOING TO-”

Just before the bridge was engulfed in all consuming green fire, Anillus caught sight of Lord Grayven’s reflection gazing back at him from the broken black glass of an inert monitor. He had to realize He was mere moments from death.

So why was He smiling?

The emerald flames burned brighter and hotter, incinerating all substance until only a pure white void remained. Anillius steeled himself before slowly, cautiously glancing down. He was momentarily relieved to see his own torso and limbs, unimmolated. What just happened?

“You died,” answered a voice that echoed Anillus’ own. “Or rather I died, you merely relived My last moments of incarnate existence.”

“My Lord?!” Anillus glanced about frantically. “Where are you?”

“I am everywhere, My Little One… I am everything.”

“I… I don’t understand,” Anillus whimpered.

“It’s fortunate you’re pretty.” The White Void almost sighed in exasperation. “It’s really very simple. I cannot return to the material plane without a vessel to house My essence.”

A cold unseen hand caressed Anillus’ cheek, drawing a shiver from somewhere deep and primal within him.

“Surrender yourself to Me, Anillus…” the Void whispered. “Allow your will to be subsumed… and we need never be parted again.”

Anillus could feel the edges of his consciousness begin to fray. It would feel so good, to finally let go of the shame and guilt and self-loathing that dogged his every waking moment. To be free of the burden of Free Will and embrace the ecstasy of nothingness was so tempting.

But…

“No,”

Silence.

“What?”

“I… I don’t want to give up being me!” Anillus’ vehemence surprised even himself. He was not sure if it was courage, stupidity, or simple panicked self-preservation. “I have already forsaken my Goddess, my world, even my family! Haven’t I given you enough!?”

“‘Given’?” The Void grew suddenly cold. “You gave Me NOTHING!!!”

A lance of icy light pierced Anillus’ heart, bringing burning agony worse than any flame.

“You cannot ‘give’ what was never yours to begin with! You belong to Me, Anillus! You have always belonged to Me! The very cosmos belongs to Me!”

Anillus tried to move, tried to scream as his very soul was consumed from within by burning tendrils of cancerous white light.

“And I will take what is Mine.”

*

Anillus’ emerald eyes snapped open, but what dwelled behind them was no longer Anillus Kur. When He spoke, His voice was cold and imperious, brooking not even the conception of disobedience.

“Release me.”

Mokkari and Simyan wasted no time unlocking the restraints. Their Master’s presence was like a weight in the air, leaving no doubt that the last spark of the slave’s psyche had been utterly extinguished.

“Core consciousness now fully integrated.” Mokkari consulted a read-out. “How do you feel, my Lord?”

He rose from His throne, stretching His new limbs. Hot blood surged through his veins. The chill air bit deliciously at his lungs. His heart was a constant drumbeat. He was acutely aware of every last cell in his new vessel. Each was a tiny chemical furnace waging a constant war against Entropy itself. So, this was what it was like to be mortal. How… intoxicating?

“I am… alive.” He placed a pointed talon to his temple. “But not whole. My memories are... fragmented somehow, blurring into Anillus’ own.”

“Unavoidable, I’m afraid,” Mokkari replied. “A mortal brain is a poor vessel for the essence of a God. We will have to transfer you to a new body before this one burns out. Fortunately, we already have fifteen cloned blanks standing by, my Lord,”

Simyan grunted.

“My mistake, sixteen.”

“Sixteen?” The creature that wore Anillus Kur’s flesh chuckled. “Oh, we’re going to need far more than that.”

For the first time in His millennia long existence, He was truly free of His father’s long shadow. In all the cosmos, only Mokkrai and Simyan now knew of His new incarnation, and they would be dealt with in due time. Infinite possibilities stretched before Him.

“As you command, Lord Grayv-”

“Do not address me by that name, ever again!”

He paused before a cloning tank, wiping away the film of condensation clinging to the glass. Anillus’ – no – His face stared blankly back at Him from the green amniotic fluid. It was the face of the legions that would soon march across the galaxy, bringing unity to a divided cosmos, before inevitably coming to the gates of Apokolips itself. There, by the light of the Fire Pits, He would finally cast down the last milk-blooded descendants of the Old Gods.

“I am no longer the Son of Darkseid! I am unbegotten, self-created, the Alpha and the Omega...” A leer curled about his thin lips.

“I am Prime.”

*

The memories faded as the void somehow shifted and churned without substance. The entity's consciousness was pulled back down into the material plane, flowing like water down a funnel, until...

*

APOKOLIPS

May 16, 00:00 UTC

ONE YEAR AGO

Sensation seeped back into His limbs, slowly at first, edged by a slight ache of newly woven flesh. His eyes flickered open to find Himself floating in crimson haze, vague shapes moving just beyond His vision. A Reanimate Matrix?

“Soul siphon initialized,” rasped a familiar yet distant voice, a voice from another lifetime. A leering face, thin and pallid under a purple hood, regarded him quizzically.

“Core consciousness fully integrated,” Desaad spoke, thoroughly pleased with himself as always. The God-Scientist took a step back. “Would you care to examine him, my Lord?”

Somewhere beyond the red haze, a shadow loomed. It slowly resolved into a visage of weathered granite, two pits of hellish fire smouldering in place of eyes. Darkseid smiled, an alien expression on his cliff-like face.

Wᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʜᴏᴍᴇ, Mʏ sᴏɴ.

*

APOKOLIPS

June 22, 23:16 UTC

NOW

“Th-this isn’t possible,” Catra stammered, standing between the still unconscious Adora and the towering figure that blocked their only escape from the narrow corridor. “You can’t be alive! You can’t!”

“Oh, you mortals have such binary concepts of life and death,” drawled the being who was somehow both Grayven, Son of Darkseid; and Horde Prime, self-proclaimed Emperor of the Known Universe reborn. His acid green eyes burned like jade stars in the gloom as he advanced. “As I told your precious Adora before, Prime is, Prime was, and Prime shall always be!”

“Stay back!” Catra snarled, panic building, seizing up her muscles.

“Do not fear, Little Sister. Despite all your sins, you can still be forgiven... You can still know Prime’s peace.”

His hand reached for the frozen Catra like a grasping talon. She wanted to attack, lead him away from Adora, do something. So why couldn’t she move?

The walls of the corridor suddenly imploded in a flash of yellow and violet, sending Catra and Prime staggering back. The smoke cleared, revealing Glimmer, Halo, Bow, Terra and Forager forming a defensive wall between Catra, Adora and the New God.

“SPARKLES!?!” Catra blurted.

Glimmer shot back a wink. “Hey, Horde Scum.”

Catra’s eyes nearly popped out of her skull. “How did you even find us!?”

“Glimmer used a scrying spell to track you once we entered orbit,” Bow answered, arrow drawn. “It was pretty amazing, actually!”

“D’aaaw, it was nothing really!” Glimmer blushed. “But c’mon, we gotta get back to Darla before Melog’s cloak gives-”

“Leaving so soon, Your Majesty?”

Glimmer’s blood froze as she turned towards the speaker. His form was unrecognizable to her, but not the cool mocking disdain etched on his face.

Prime’s lips curled into a sardonic leer. “I was hoping to have you as My ‘guest’ once more.”

“That voice?” Bow said. “Catra is that...?”

“Escape now, talk later!” Halo interjected. “Terra, give us cover!”

The Earth Princess leaped forward, planting her feet, reaching deep into the tortured crust of Apokolips. A slab of jagged granite burst from the ground, tearing through the metal floor plating as it cut the corridor in two.

Now that the young heroes were momentarily shielded, Halo turned, their aura flaring bright indigo.

BOOOOOM!!!

*

DARL A

June 23, 23:19 UTC

Catra tumbled across the cool crystalline floor of the First One starcraft, shielding Adora’s unconscious form with her own body. Hands reached out for her. She cried out reflexively, mad with panic.

“GET BACK!”

“Whoa, Catra easy!” Glimmer protested, drawing back.

“It’s okay,” Halo added, aura dimming as the Boom-Tube sealed behind them. “You’re safe now.”

“No, I’m not,” Catra whispered, holding Adora close. “No one is.”

*

APOKOLIPS

June 23, 23:20 UTC

Prime ran his hand along the cooling stone, violently rent from the very bedrock of Apokolips. Impressive, these Earth mortals. So much raw potential, needing only His hand to mold it.

“Herr Prime!?”

Colonel Vundabar huffed as he came running up the corridor, followed by a squad of battered Parademons. “Herr Prime!” He saluted. “We subdued de rogue Kryptonian... eh, eventually.”

“Poor misguided child. Such ingratitude wounds Me deeper than any blade,” Prime sighed forlornly. “Still, even she can be made to see My Light.”

“What of the de deserter Despara and her accomplices?”

“Let them run for now.” Prime turned with an imperious sweep. “Come General Vundabar, we have a universe to conquer.”

“I… Of course, Herr Prime!” Vundabar beamed proudly, strutting after his Master like a prize peacock.

*

Barda perched atop the Fury barracks, watching snarling Parademons herd throngs of Lowies through the packed streets below. The poor wretches seemingly spent more time being force-marched between their ramshackle hab-blocks and the war factories than actually working in them. Not so long ago she’d have looked down upon them with disgust and scorn, or pity at best. Now? Now she wondered if she was any better than them?

They’d come for Gilotina while Barda was out on manoeuvres. When Barda had found out, she’d torn apart half the barracks. Even Mad Harriet had been quailed by her rage, impotent as it was. Barda had always assumed she and her sisters had some degree of privilege in the hierarchy of Apokolips. But that was the thing about privileges, they could always be taken away.

“Captain Barda?”

Barda perked up to find Black Mary hovering a few feet above. “Cadet?”

“Sorry to intrude,” Mary saluted as she touched down. “I was just wondering if you’ve seen Zor-El or Des-”

A titanic holographic figure suddenly shimmered to life above the skyline of Armagetto, arms extended as though in benediction, dwarfing even the Divine Palace. An angelic smile curled about the shimmering titan’s all too familiar lips.

“Rejoice, Apokolips, for Prime has come among you!”

“Lord Grayven?” Barda whispered.

“Do not fear,” the New God proclaimed. “For I have delivered you from Darkseid’s shadow, into the embrace of My Light. No longer shall you toil meaninglessly to prop up a decaying empire, but strive to usher in a New Era. An Era where all - from the highest of the Elite to the lowest Lowlie - shall be equal Brothers in My Grace. An Era where you shall know naught but the undying bliss that is Prime.”

Mary looked to Barda but the Fury Captain couldn’t processes what she was hearing. Darkseid couldn’t be… gone. Darkseid was eternal, Darkseid was infinite. Darkseid… was. One might as well announce that the galaxy itself would no longer turn on its axis.

“Welcome, my children, to the dawn of the Fifth World!” Prime exalted. “Welcome... to the Horde!”

For the first time in over sixteen millennia, all Apokolips fell silent until...

“HAIL PRIME!” cried one of the Lowlies, raising a fist to the air.

Within moments, others took up the cry as it spread through the throng like a virus. Parademons stepped back from the maddened mob, the cybernetic horrors suddenly uncertain of their place in the order of things. High above, Barda kept her own council, certain of nothing anymore as all Armagetto soon echoed with the first words of a new creed.

“Hail Prime!”

“Hail Prime!”

“Hail Prime!”

Chapter Text

THE WARWORLD

June 26, 10:52 UTC

The corridors of the Warworld thrummed with power. At the very heart of the planetary dreadnaught seethed energies enough to annihilate worlds, awaiting only the thought of command from it’s Master. Not that he would ever unleash such forces without just cause. Though self-proclaimed ‘heroes’ might decry him as a monster and a tyrant, those who served the Savior knew him for the visionary he was. For fifty millennia, he had guided and stewarded humanity as a loving father guides his own offspring. Of course, like any father, his love sometimes compelled him to discipline his short-sighted children.

“Cassandra?”

Cassandra looked up into the stern scarred visage of Vandal Savage; Earth’s First and Greatest Hero, the Savior, her father.

His heavy brow furrowed. “Is something the matter?”

“Forgive me, Father,” Cassandra answered, abashed. “My mind wandered.”

“A dangerous habit.” Her father’s voice was low, almost soft, but the undertone of warning was unmistakable. He was not to correct her a second time.

“Apologies, Father.” Cassandra stood at attention. “It won’t happen again.”

“Then the matter is closed.” Her father turned to continue his inspection of the cavernous cargo bay, Cassandra marching in lockstep behind. “Status report from Betrassus?”

Cassandra consulted her tablet. “The Justice League’s Javelin entered orbit two hours ago. They’re currently attempting to open negotiations with the Red Lantern Corps’ occupational force.”

Her father smiled. “Excellent.”

Not for the first time, Cassandra marveled at her father’s brilliance. One quiet bribe to an informant who had the ear of Zilius Zox was all it took to convince the already paranoid Red Lantern leader that the Guardians of Oa were secretly using Betrassus as a staging ground for further expansion into the so-called Forgotten Zone.

Naturally, the Justice League had volunteered to mediate and deescalate the situation. If they failed to prevent hostilities between the Lantern Corps from reigniting, both the League and New Genesis would be treaty bound to come to Oa’s aid. The resulting interstellar conflict would significantly drain three of humanity’s major rivals for future dominance of the Milky Way.

And even if the League did succeed, placating Zox would take several days at the least, days in which Vandal’s operations on Earth would have a free hand.

Vandal paused before a stasis pod. Its deceptively human-like occupant was dark-skinned with a sharply cut beard. The captive’s strange uniform was emblazoned with an alien emblem that vaguely resembled the last letter of the Latin Alphabet.

“Set up a one-on-one with Ultra-Humanite,” He continued. “I want to review the scientific data ‘Modulok’ traded to us in exchange for sanctioning his operations on Earth. I’m particularly interested in the prospects for grafting Krypton-”

BOOOOOM!!!

The Boom-Tube erupted in the middle of the cargo bay, roaring like the mouth of Hell itself. Cassandra was briefly taken aback, but her father’s only response was to narrow his eyes warily. Nothing emerged from the blazing vortex as it hung in mid-air, an open wound in space-time.

“Wait here,” Vandal brushed past Cassandra, stepping forward to accept the unspoken invitation.

*

APOKOLIPS

June 26, 05:56 CDT

The acrid sting of Apokolips’ sweltering ash-choked atmosphere filled Savage’s lungs as he stepped out of the Boom-Tube. He suspected if not for the regenerative qualities of his immortal physiology, the many cumulative years he’d spent breathing the planet’s tainted air would have long taken a heavy toll on his health. It was partly why he’d always insisted on dealing directly with Darkseid rather than allowing any of his ‘enlightened colleagues’ to stand in for him. This was no world for mortals.

He’d stood upon the upper tiers of Darkseid’s palace countless times over the centuries, so it only took him a split-second to realize something was wrong. The giant Omega symbol that once crowned the grim edifice had been replaced by a great golden sigil resembling a pair of sweeping bat wings. More concerning were the dozens of Apokoliptan warships filling the skies above. He could only imagine how many more were hidden in the ochre smog. An impressive display of force, if rather blunt.

“Ah, Temüjin!”

The New God stood at the edge of the balcony overlooking the fire pit below. His immaculate robe of white and gold shone against the dismal bleakness of his world, like a newly fallen Lucifer overlooking the plains of Tartarus. He turned to regard Savage with four asymmetrical emerald-green eyes, two of which had left fresh surgical scars in his polished marble visage.

The Lord of Apokolips smiled coolly. “Welcome… old friend.”

*

NEBRASKA

June 26, 05:53 CDT

An amber sun rose over the sleepy Nebraska hills. The wind was soft and cool, rippling over the grasslands. A large farmhouse nestled in a copse of maple trees. This place appeared on no maps; holographic camouflage shielded it from satellite surveillance just as potent mystic wards prevented occult scrying. To the heroes of Earth, this place was inviolate, sacred… a Sanctuary.

Catra, Glimmer and Bow sat around a care-worn wooden table in the farmhouse kitchen. They silently nursed cups of tepid coffee as Melog paced the cool tiles. It had been a long night. Everyone was silent, they had already said everything that needed to be said. Now, they could only wait.

All four bolted upright at the creak of the old staircase, racing to the landing in the main hall, where a tired and weary M’gann had just descended. The Etherians crowded around her.

“How is she?!”

“Does she remember us?!”

“Can we-”

M’gann winced, rubbing her temples. “Guys, can we bring it down a little? It’s been a long night.”

The three quieted down, giving M’gann space to gather her thoughts.

“The good news is I was able to remove the memory block Granny placed in Adora’s psyche…”

“And the bad news?” Bow asked warily.

“You need to understand, Adora went through… a lot on Apokolips,” M’gann said. “Working through that is going to take a lot of support and understanding from the people who love her. And a lot of time.”

“Can… can we go see her?” Glimmer asked tentatively.

“Yes, but you’ll have to keep it short,” M’gann answered. “The psychic surgery was draining for both of us, she’ll need to rest soon. And it might be best if you go in one at a time.”

Glimmer and Bow exchanged a quiet look before turning to Catra. The feline hesitated a moment, rubbing her arms anxiously, before Melog gave her an encouraging head nudge up the first steps. Catra came to the bedroom door at the head of the stairs, steeling herself for what came next. She inhaled deeply, raised a tight fist, and rapped her knuckles lightly upon the painted wood.

“Come in.”

Catra turned the knob and stepped over the threshold.

Adora sat upon the bed, knees drawn up into herself. She wore an oversized white t-shirt and red cotton pajama bottoms. Her blond hair was still shorn down almost to the scalp, leaving only a thin yellowy fuzz. Yet for all that, she was still the most beautiful creature Catra had even laid eyes on. Adora turned, smiling weakly, her face framed in the silver light of dawn.

“Hey, Catra.”

*

APOKOLIPS

June 26, 10:57 UTC

Savage arched a questioning brow. “Grayven?”

The New God’s expression hardened. “From this moment on, you will address me as ‘Lord Prime’.”

“I see.”

“But come, stay and talk with Me a little while.” Prime smiled, gesturing to a spot by his side. “I have so missed our little chats overlooking the steppes of your homeworld all those centuries ago.”

Savage lingered a moment before taking the proffered space. The squalid and twisted warrens of Armagetto stretched onto the very horizon, a landscape as unlike the cold austerity of the Great Steppe as he could imagine.

“I take it Darkseid is… indisposed?”

“Now, Temüjin, don’t be coy,” Prime answered. “I have no doubt your informants on Apokolips told you of the change of regime here almost as soon as it happened. Though I would not expect to rely on them for much longer.”

“I’ll make a note of it,” Savage spoke coolly.

“In a way, I have you to thank, old friend. After all, it was you who first helped Me realize I could be so much more than My father’s shadow, and now look at Me…” Prime raised his arms as though encompassing the entirety of Creation in his grasp. “I am now the Center of all things, the Axis about which the cosmos revolves, as I was always meant to be.”

Savage well remembered their long ‘talks’ in the wake of Darkseid’s original attempted invasion of Earth at the dawn of the 13th century. In truth Savage, then Khagan of the Great Mongol Nation, had said little at the time. It had taken only a few subtle prods to expose the embers of young Grayven’s filial resentment and fan those embers into an all-consuming flame.

It was a son’s instinct to seek to exceed his father. Savage knew that all too well.

“Why exactly am I here, ‘old friend’?”

“Ever the conqueror, cutting to the heart of the matter?” Prime chuckled. “Very well, Temüjin. Centuries ago, you forged a pact with My father. Now that he is no longer an issue, I wish to offer you a new pact.”

Prime arm curled about Savage’s shoulders like a languid python, relaxed yet ready to constrict at a moment’s notice.

“Pledge yourself to Me, Temüjin - you and your mortal co-conspirators,” Prime whispered in Savage’s ear. “And all humanity will dwell forever in the peace and glory that is Prime.”

“Or?”

All four of Prime’s eyes narrowed to razor slits. “There is no ‘or’.”

“I’m no longer the provincial warlord you once knew, ‘Prime’. I’ve kept abreast of galactic developments over the centuries,” Savage growled low; his scarred lips curled in distaste as he shook off Prime’s hand. “I know very well what your ‘peace’ entails.”

“Tread carefully, savage.” Prime’s voice was a cold. “There can only be one guiding Light in this cosmos. To reject Me is to reject the only mercy your tragic species will ever know.”

Savage’s only response was a glare, hard and sharp as flint.

“Perhaps a few days to consider your options, then?” Prime snapped his fingers.

BOOOOOM!!!

The stony floor vanished beneath Savage’s feet, abruptly swallowed by the fiery maw of a second Boom-Tube.

*

THE WARWORLD

June 26, 11:01 UTC

“FATHER!?!”

Cassandra raced to her sire’s side. The Boom-Tube had manifested almost thirty feet above the deck of the Warworld’s cargo bay, and Vandal had hit the metal plating with enough force to kill a baseline human. His form was still, limbs bent at unnatural angles, face down in the pooling blood.

Another might have prayed, kneeling by a parent’s body. But Cassandra’s father had long ago thought her that though the gods were to be respected, they were never to be relied upon. In this universe, one could only trust in one’s own strength. So, she waited.

Then came the sudden wheeze of thirsting lungs, the crack of bones snapping back into place. Vandal slowly rose to his feet, leaning on his daughter’s shoulder as he hauled himself upright, clutching his side. He was relatively certain one of his ribs had punctured a lung, but that would pass in a moment. He had more immediate concerns.

“Cassandra…” He coughed, wiping away the drying blood from his face. “Prepare the Warworld for immediate departure.”

*

SANCTUARY

June 26, 05:59 CDT

Catra perched quietly on the frilled tuffet by Adora’s bedside, feeling vaguely ridiculous. Neither of them had said anything since the initial exchange of ‘hey’. The longer the silence wore on the more impenetrable it became. But what to say, what could be said?

“So, how are you feeling?” Catra instantly regretted asking.

Idiot! What kind of a question was that? The love of her life had just spent the last month as a brainwashed slave on a planet that was basically Hell and she asks ‘How are you feeling?’ As though Adora had just had her appendix removed. Stupid! Stupid!

“I’m okay, thanks,” Adora answered, though the forced smile said otherwise. Catra’s fingers edged across the bed quilt, towards Adora’s own, only for Adora’s clenched hand to withdraw. “I just think I’d like to sleep for a while.”

“Yeah, sure, no problem,” Catra said hurriedly as she rose from the tuffet. Her hand was around the doorknob before realizing she’d completely forgotten to tell Adora about Horde Prime’s seeming resurrection. “Adora…”

“Yeah?”

“I… I love you.”

Adora smiled weakly. “Thanks.”

*

SANCTUARY

June 26, 09:16 CDT

“What do you mean you didn’t tell Adora about Horde Prime!?” Glimmer exclaimed.

The morning sun had started to heat up and the three Etherians - plus Melog -were huddled under the protective shade of an overhanging maple tree. Even with a generous slathering of ‘sunscreen’ as the Earthers called it, none of them trusted the blazing orb.

“She’s been through almost literal Hell,” Catra protested hotly. “What was I supposed to say ‘Oh hey Adora, hope you’re feeling better after over a month of constant psychological trauma. Oh by the way, your worst enemy has somehow magically resurrected himself from the dead!’”

Catra let out a low sigh, draining the snark from her voice, leaving only a tender hurt. “Adora is like glass right now, one wrong move, one wrong word, and she might shatter. I can’t take that chance. I won’t.”

“We’re going to have to tell her eventually,” Bow offered.

“We will.” Catra nodded. “Just… not right now, not ‘til she gets her head cleared.”

If she gets her head cleared, whispered that treacherous voice coiled in the back of Catra’s mind again.

The three of them fell very quiet again. The silence was broken only by the murmur of the leaves and the distant low rhythm of a falling axe. Across the farmyard, a bronzed figure stood, methodically splitting wood with slow steady swings of his axe.

“Hey don’t we know that guy?” Bow asked.

*

Angelo del Rey paused a moment to wipe the sweat from his glistening brow, taking a cool swig from his water bottle. His dark golden curls clung damply to his sweaty scalp. He emptied the rest of the bottle over his head, refreshing the gill-slits that ran down the side of his neck. The cool water stung the pair of pale ragged scars running down his bronzed back, beneath the loose crop-top.

The pain brought back bad memories, memories of his time in the clutches of the alien organ thief called ‘Modulok’. The steely cold of the operating table, the hot sting of the scalpel, he pushed the memories down for now.

“Keep ‘em coming, Danny boy,” Angelo said in an ozzie brogue, hefting his ax.

“Comin’ up, Angelo,” replied a Southern twang.

The lanky bespectacled boy didn’t look any older than twelve, yet didn’t seem to struggle in the least as he carried a stack of logs that grown men might have struggled with. “But don’tcha think we got ‘nuff firewood ta last three winters by now?”

Angelo shook his head. “Can’t stop now, mate. I’m in ‘the zone’ as you Yanks say.”

“Hey-hey now, watch who ye’r calling a ‘Yank’,” Danny said amiably as he set down the logs. Despite the summer sun and the thick dark grey hoodie he wore, the boy hadn’t even broken a sweat.

Angelo snorted. Danny was right of course. Nobody this side of the Arctic Circle needed that much firewood in June. But something about the simple repetitive task of hewing the logs helped clear Angelo’s mind. It was the first real sense of peace he’d had since…

“Sea Angel?!”

Angelo couldn’t help wincing at the sound of his old codename. Still, he smiled as he turned to greet the three colorfully dressed strangers (and one glowing cat?) that had just hailed him.

“Day, mates,” Angelo said. “Have… we met?”

“Oh, that’s right. I guess we’re never officially introduced,” replied the dark-skinned bloke in a crop top with a quiver slung over his shoulder. “I’m Bow, and this is Glimmer, Catra and Melog. We were with Tigress and Halo when…”

“Ah…” Angelo said quietly. They didn’t need to say anymore. “Well, thanks for helping out with that, but you can just call me ‘Angelo’. And this here is my bro, Danny Chase.”

“Charmed, Vi and Vic told me all ‘bout y’all!” Danny shook Bow’s hand vigorously, his skinny fingers clamped around the archer’s own. The younger boy sheepishly drew back his hand once he noticed the small grimace on Bow’s otherwise smiling face. “Heh, sorry… Guess I don’t know m’own strength.”

“No problem,” Bow said through a smile, shaking the feeling back into his fingers.

Catra cocked her head inquisitively. “You know Rainbow?”

“We’re kinda ‘cousins’, ya might say,” Danny said with a vague shrug.

The five young people had just started chatting when a new figure suddenly turned the corner of the farmhouse. She was slightly older, clad in a light green jumper, olive skin and chestnut hair bound in a tight bun. Her light brown eyes peering curiously from behind wide spectacles. She held a sketch pad close like a shield.

Angelo offered a friendly wave. “Hey, June!”

The green clad femme let out a small yelp, ducking behind the sketch pad and retreating back the way she came.

“That was… odd,” said Glimmer.

“Nah, Mx. Moone’s just a lil shy ‘round new folks,” Danny said. “She’s harmless.”

*

BLUE VALLEY, NEBRASKA

June 26, 09:23 CDT

Elizabeth Kramer, age eighty-four, shuffled across her kitchen. She emptied half a can of moist cat food into a waiting floral bowl. She hummed to herself as she mushed the meal with an old fork, missing a tine. Preparations complete, she poked her head into the back garden.

“Chester!” she warbled. “Dinner time!”

The only answer to Elizabeth’s hail was the fluttering summer wind. She started to worry. Chester wasn’t like other cats. Ever since she had found him curled in a ditch almost sixteen years ago, he had never failed to come when called (especially for dinner).

The silence was eventually broken by a rustling in the shrubbery, followed by a head covered in brown and white patchy fur poking out from the bushes.

“Mrrrow?”

“There you are, Chester,” Elizabeth tutted. “You shouldn’t scare mommy like that.”

Chester came padding unsteadily along the green lawn. His four legs began to wobble beneath him, before finally collapsing on the dry grass.

“CHESTER!?”

Elizabeth raced to the fallen feline’s side, moving with a speed that belied her age as she fell to her knees. She cradled the poor creature’s head. “Chester, please… wake up!”

The cat’s eyes suddenly snapped open, revealing orbs of pure inky blackness. The shadow burst forth from Chester’s eye sockets and mouth like a locust swarm, utterly subsuming Elizabeth Kramer.

*

Chester awoke on the grass, under the warmth of the bright sun. He couldn’t remember falling asleep but didn’t let that bother him. He slept where and when the mood took him. The last thing he could recall was being approached by that strange human, the one whose eyes burned like green fire and who whispered cold words that bent the air.

He didn’t let that bother him either; humans were always doing odd things. He padded through the house, mewling for his own human. He found the front door swinging open in the wind. His human’s metal travel box was missing from the stone path outside.

Typical human, thought Chester, curling up on the porch for another nap.

*

THE WATCHTOWER

June 26, 10:52 EDT

“Let me see if I understand what happened,” Black Lightning said sternly, Tigress by his side. “You intentionally over-road the Watchtower’s docking protocols and flew off with people you’ve known barely a month to take part in an unsanctioned rescue mission to Apokolips, where you were nearly captured by Darkseid’s son?”

“Yes, exactly! Forager is relieved to have cleared up any misunderstanding!” The New Genesian Bug chirped happily, before Terra quietly elbowed his thorax.

“Forager and Terra were only following my lead.” Halo stepped forward. “I alone should face the consequences.”

Tigress cocked an eyebrow. “So you take full responsibility?”

“I do, and I’ll accept any sanction you deem appropriate,” Halo answered. “But I will not apologize for helping save an innocent soul from Granny’s claws, so don’t bother trying to make me feel guilty.”

Tigress repressed a smirk. Halo had come so far since that night three years ago when she’d found them shivering in a Markovian graveyard, afraid and uncertain of who (or even what) they were.

Still gonna have to come down on you like a ton of bricks though, Vi.

<Artemis?> a psychic voice broke in on Tigress’ thoughts.

<M’gann?> She crinkled her nose. <I’m kinda in the middle of something right now?>

<Sorry, I just zetaed in and I’m kinda in a hurry. Is Black Canary still aboard?>

<I saw her heading for the locker room a little while ago, but why are you->

<Thanks, talk later,> M’gann cut her off. <For real, I mean.>

<Wait, what->

“Tigress?”

She blinked, only now noticing that Black Lightning was eyeing her quizzically.

“Sorry,” she replied sheepishly. “Miles away.”

*

Dinah Lance - better known to the world as the Black Canary - slid into a black leather boot. Though some might have questioned Dinah’s taste in attire, she’d found it a lot more practical than trying to street brawl in a billowing cape like some of her co-workers were wont to do. She paused to pose before a mirror in the Watchtower’s locker room. She admired her completed outfit, smirking slyly. Besides, she looked damn good.

“Dinah?”

Black Canary spun on her heels, blushing slightly, composing herself as she recognized the speaker. “M’gann?!”

“Sorry for startling you,” Miss Martian said. “I wanted to talk to you before you left. Do you have a moment?”

“Of course. Ollie and I were planning to raid a Kobra safehouse in Coast City tonight, with Hal off-world and all.” Canary took a seat on a bench, gesturing for Miss Martian to join her. “But I can spare a minute.”

“Time may be the problem,” M’gann sighed. “I just got back from Sanctuary,”

M’gann didn’t mention the three-hour enforced nap she’d been obligated to take after completing an all-night psychic surgery session. “I’ve finished unblocking Adora’s memories, and we need to fast-track her counseling immediately.”

“I see,” Dinah said thoughtfully. “Well, this Kobra op might take a few days but once I’m back, I can-”

“Dinah, I don’t think Adora is going to last a few days. I was in her mind, the things she saw on Apokolips… the things they made her do...”

“Well, what about you?”

“Honestly, I think I may be in over my head. But there is someone who I’d like to bring in on Adora’s case. She’s a little… unconventional, but she has a lot of experience dealing with this kind of trauma and recovering from extreme abuse.”

“She sounds great,” Dinah said. “Do I know her?”

M’gann winced. “Yeeeaahh… there’s the rub; you kinda already do…”

Miss Martian spoke the candidate’s name. Dinah’s voice was flat as a broken heart monitor when she finally responded.

“You’re joking… right?”

*

SANCTUARY

June 27, 15:26 CDT

Adora sat alone in the small study. The afternoon sun streamed through the French window; a sleepy orchard lay beyond. Another plush lounge chair sat empty opposite her own.

She bolted out of her chair, pacing the room like a caged animal. Why was she even here? She didn’t need to talk about her problems with some stranger; she needed to do something. The room was too small, too quiet. There was nothing to distract her, nothing to keep out the memories. Adora felt an inexplicable surge of molten anger, followed by jolt of pain lancing up her right arm.

She gazed down, her bruised knuckles had left an imprint on the floral wallpaper. She’d never lost control like that before, never lashed out like that before.

Her thoughts were broken by the sound of someone retching nearby.

“Hello?” Adora stepped into the hallway, pausing before the closed lavatory door and knocking timorously. “Is everything okay in there?”

“Just a sec, hun!” a voice chirped, followed by a flushing noise.

The lavatory door flew open to reveal a pale woman in ripped denim shorts and black tee. Her yellow hair was dyed bright pastel blue and pink at the tips, colors Adora hadn’t been sure even existed on Earth.

“Sorry, hun,” the woman belched. “First time in the ol’ Zeta-Tube. Take it from me, having your molecules blasted across the continent ain’t fun when you’re already nursing a bitch of a hangover. Adora, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Adora answered uncertainly. “Are you another ‘resident’?”

“Nah, I’m your new therapist, pleasure to meet ya!” The blue/pink-haired woman wiped her mouth before grabbing Adora’s hand, shaking it vigorously. “Dr. Harleen Quinzel at your service, but you can call me ‘Harley’!”

*

Adora perched on the edge of the cushioned seat, not entirely trusting it. She didn’t trust much anymore. “So, Dr. Quinzel, how is this supposed to work exactly?”

“No need for all that ‘Doctor’ stuff, hun. Call me ‘Harley’, or ‘Harl’. ‘Harl’ is good. I like to keep it relaxed in here.” ‘Harley’ sat lankwise across her own chair, legs draped over an armrest as she filled out a small clipboard after asking Adora a few rather generic questions. “’Sides, the State still won’t gimme back my license to practice.”

“Your what?”

Harley brushed off the question. “So, at the risk of soundin’ cliché, how ‘bout tellin’ me a li’l ‘bout your childhood?”

“Not much to tell, honestly,” Adora shrugged. “Fell out of a magic portal as a baby, found by a fascist alien warlord, raised as a child-soldier by a power-crazed witch.”

“Don’t feel bad, hun, everybody says that ‘bout their mom at some point!”

“No, I mean she was an actual literal witch!”

“Oh.” Harley cocked her head. “Kinda like… Granny Goodness?”

Adora tensed. Granny’s toadish leer flashed across her mind. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Look, I know this is some pretty heavy shit for a first session,” Harley said softly, suddenly straightening up. “But you can’t just ignore your trauma, Adora; you have to work through it. It’s hard and it’s scary, but it’s the best thing you’ll ever do. And believe it or not, it’s actually easier the sooner you-”

“What do you even know about it!?” Adora snapped, bolting out of her chair. “You never had some monster claw their way into your skull and twist you up inside! Urgh! This is stupid!”

She stormed out, leaving Harley alone in the silent study.

“Not gonna lie,” Harley said to herself. “Coulda gone better.”

*

“No foolin’,” swore Danny, rotating his arm as he sat under the maple tree in the farmyard, surrounded by Catra, Glimmer, Bow, Melog and Angelo. “First time I tried that, it fell clean off!”

Adora stormed past them, not even slowing down to utter a single word.

“Hey, Adora!” Catra yelled, running after her. “Are you okay? How’d it go?”

“I don’t want to talk about it!”

“Okay, but-”

“What is your problem!?” Adora snapped.

Catra froze. “I- I just want to help?”

“You wanna help?” said Adora, brushing past her. “Then leave. Me. Alone!”

Catra was about to follow when a pale hand fell on her shoulder.

“Let her go, kid,” Harley said. “She’ll be back when she’s ready.”

*

Adora’s flight had finally come to an end at a still pond under a shady willow tree, on the very border of Sanctuary. She sat in the damp grass, arms wrapped tightly about her knees, staring at the pale white toad lounging upon a half-sunk log. She couldn’t believe she had lashed out at Catra like that, at the love of her life, at someone who had risked life and soul to save her from the nightmare that was Apokolips.

But did she really? The voice in Adora’s head was bitter, treacherous and cloyingly sweet. She could still smell the all-pervading brimstone stench of the fire pits, hear the piteous wails of Lowlies under the boot. Every time she closed her eyes, she could still see Granny Goodness’ mockingly grinning face, just as she had promised.

Everywhere Adora went, Apokolips went with her.

“Are you alright?”

Adora perked her head up at the newcomer, a somewhat older bespectacled figure in an old green sweater.

“What?” Adora blinked, trying to shake off her funk. “I mean… I’m fine, thanks.”

“I’m sorry, you wanted to be alone. I’ll go.”

“No, it’s fine, I just-” Adora sighed, turning back to watch the ripples on the lake. “Just don’t expect much conversation.”

“Fair enough. I’m June by the way,” The newcomer took a seat on the grass, propping the sketchbook on their lap. “June Moone, she/they.”

“Adora… she/her, I guess?” She’d never understand why Earth languages didn’t use gendered first-person pronouns. Was everyone on this planet just supposed to guess? She nodded at the sketchbook. “Are you an artist?”

“Art teacher, actually. At least… I used to be,” June said falteringly. “I see you’ve met Drude?”

Adora cocked her head. “Drude?”

June pointed to the pale toad sitting on the log.

“Oh, I didn’t know it had a name?”

“I like to come sketch him, he’s a great model.”

Adora regarded the pale toad, still as a stone. He could certainly hold a pose, she gave him that. “So are you another Earth hero?”

“Not exactly…” June winced. “Up until a few weeks ago I… I wasn’t exactly myself.”

Adora frowned. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t pry.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” June sighed. “There was this… person. She was abusive, controlling. She got under my skin, into my head, made me… do things, things I’m not proud of.”

Adora guts twisted, June’s story struck uncomfortably close to home.

“Oh, don’t be so modest, June,” croaked a new voice, harsh and mocking.

The old woman loomed behind Adora and June in her dark green overcoat. Her arms hung oddly limp, her feet awkwardly splayed, as though she was unaccustomed to her own limbs. “After all, we did such great things together.”

“No…” June whispered in fearful recognition, dropping her sketchbook upon the damp grasp, backing up against the willow. “You… you can’t be here! Zatanna said Fate’s wards would keep you out!”

“And they might have… had you not been here. There’s nowhere you can go where I can’t follow, June,” the old crone cackled sardonically. “You belong to me.”

“That’s it,” Adora said, interjecting herself between June and the old woman, instinctively shielding the young artist. She didn’t understand much of what was going on, but she understood enough. She stared down the crone. “I think it’s time you leave.”

“Adora, don’t-”

June’s warning came too late. The crone’s claw-like hand shot out like a striking viper, clasping Adora’s wrist in a bony death grip.

Adora tried to pull herself free, but the crone held her in place with an iron grip. “What-” With a flick of her emaciated wrist the old woman sent Adora hurling like a ragdoll, her body slamming against the bark of the old willow.

The crone stalked toward the stunned Etherian, flexing her bony talons, ready to deliver the kill.

June Moone wasn’t like the other residents at Sanctuary; they were no hero, just a fledgling art teacher caught up in the machinations of a being possessing deathless malice. Years had passed since seemingly random chance had turned the entity’s gaze towards them, an entity that would never stop hunting them, never rest until it utterly possessed them, body and soul. With Adora lying stunned at the foot the ancient willow and the crone momentarily distracted, blind animal panic took over, flight or fight. They wanted to run. They needed to run.

June was as shocked as anyone then, to find themself grabbing a discarded tree branch and swinging with all their might. The rotted branch shattered into a dozen splinters as it struck the back of the crone’s skull.

The crone’s head twisted almost a full hundred and eighty degrees, her smile crooked, her eyes orbs of purest black. “Don’t try to be a hero, June,” she rasped mockingly. “You’re not the type.”

Before June could react, the crone’s bony claws clamped about their throat. The next thing June knew the crone had them pinned to the damp grass, straddling their prone body.

June clawed futilely at the old crone. “Get off me!”

“Oooh, I love it when you try to fight back, June.” The crone leered down at her prone victim. Her jaws distended like serpent’s, disgorging a miasma of smoky darkness that completely subsumed June’s being. As though her task was complete, the crone immediately fell limp beside June.

“June!?” A still groggy Adora staggered wearily to her feet, dashing to the fallen artist’s side. June lay curled in the cold grass, their body shuddering as though raked by icy claws.

“June!?” Adora pleaded. “June, can you hear me?!”

*

Adora’s voice was a dull, faint thing, like a thin wind over distant hills. Even the sun was little more than a pale grey disc in a black sky. All light and warmth had been bled from June Moon’s universe, leaving her cold, afraid and so terribly alone.

Oh no, sweet June. Never that. Never alone.

June felt the Shadow tearing back the layers of her mind to lay bare all the shameful secret places of her soul, filling her with its own tainted essence. “Please…” June whimpered. “Please… stop.”

Stop? Oh June, we’ve barely even started. I can’t begin to tell you how much I’ve missed you, ever since we were cruelly torn apart.

“This can’t be happening,” June wept. “Dr. Fate said you were gone!”

Then Nabu’s a liar and a hypocrite. Possession is nine-tenths of the Law and all that. Now… say the Word.

“Please, I don’t want to hurt anyone again!”

It’s adorable that you think you have any choice in the matter.

The Shadow swelled her mind to bursting, until it felt like her skull would crack. She tried to fight it like she had countless times before, and just like every one of those times…

Say it!

Finally, inexorably, June’s mental walls finally broke.

“In-incantatio.”

*

“So then I say to him, ‘that’s no Toxicodendron radicans, that’s my wife!’” Harley broke down into a giggle fit on the front porch of the farmhouse. Catra, Bow, Glimmer, Melog, Angelo and Danny sat around her in a rough semi-circle, their expressions blank, confused, and befuddled.

“I don’t get it?” Glimmer said.

Damn, these kids were a though crowd. If Harley couldn’t turn this around, she might even have to break out the sock puppets. Before things could escalate that far, a lance of sickly eldritch light burst from somewhere on the outer edge of Sanctuary, sending a tremor through the Earth beneath them.

Catra, hopping to her feet, hackles raised. “The heck is that!?”

The emerald pillar began turning the summer blue sky a rotting black, like mold spreading across a porcelain dome. It was coming from somewhere near the old willow pond if Harley guessed right. She also had a pretty good idea exactly what ‘the heck is that’.

“Well, fu-” Harley began, before remembering there was a twelve-year-old present. “-uuudge my life.”

*

Adora recoiled from the pillar of eldritch fire, shielding her eyes from the emerald light. Wailing winds whipped and sliced at her. The grass beneath and sky above darkened, as though the shining pillar was greedily stealing and hoarding all light for its own jealous luminance.

“JUNE!?!” Adora cried, reaching out only for her fingers to be nearly seared off by the unearthly radiance. She was thrown back by one final burst of the uncanny light. All fell silent until…

“Oh… yesss…” the voice was rich as night, smooth as venom.

Adora staggered to her feet, glaring blearily at the figure that stood where June Moone had just a moment ago. Her skin was corpse-pale with sharp elven ears. Hair like white-gold flowed about eyes the same poisonous green as the eldritch light. Midnight robes etched in silver billowed silently about her lithe form, the robes of an enchantress.

“June?” The question sounded ridiculous the moment Adora voiced it. This sorceress was as unlike the mousey young femme she had just befriended as the blazing sun was unlike a pale moon, but still…

“Yes… and no,” the Enchantress spoke in a low sing-song voice as she stepped - No, not stepped, her bare feet floated mere inches above the grass - she wafted towards Adora like smoke on a cold wind. Her emerald eyes ate into Adora like twin coals, peering past mere flesh and bone.

“Who are you? Where’s June?!” Adora reached for the iron knot of anger in her belly. Good, anger was easy, anger was simple.

“Must you mortals dole out your Names like chocolates? Dangerous habit that. Especially for one who barely knows who she is. As for dear sweet June…” The Enchantress circled Adora in a slow languid spiral, pausing to trace a long spidery finger along down her own temple. “They’re right in here, watching, listening, and cowering in some forgotten corner of their own skull… like they always do.”

Adora summoned her energy sword, leveling it on the Enchantress. The translucent blade was jagged and evilly curved, as though it had forgotten what it was supposed to be. “Let them go or-”

“Or… what? You’ll run me through?” The Enchantress sneered, leaning forward until the very blade-tip pressed against her own throat, against June’s throat. “Are you really that broken, hero?”

Adora held the blade in place, blue eyes hard as steel, before letting her arms fall limp with a defeated sigh.

“That’s a good pet. I’d love to stay and chat, but I really must be dashing. You know how it is, places to be, people to see, souls to flay.” The Enchantress smirked, rising into the dark skies before streaking away like an emerald comet.

Adora watched her go with hollow eyes. Her energy blade flickering out of existence. She wanted to break down, to cry, but what would even be the point? She couldn’t help June. She couldn’t even help herself. There was a noise, everything was shaking. People were crowding everywhere. Someone was yelling something, a name, her name.

“Adora, ADORA!” Catra cried, shaking the unresponsive Adora by her shoulders. “Say something!”

“What?” Adora murmured drifting back to the outer world.

“’Kay, everybody just give her some space, let her breath,” Harley said, gently shooing back Catra as well as Glimmer, Bow, Angelo, Danny and Melog. “Adora, hun? Are ya okay? Are ya hurt?” Harley asked, carefully checking the younger woman for any sign of injury.

“Yeah… I… I’m fine,” Adora answered dully.

Angelo knelt by the unconscious elderly woman still lying in the grass, falling back on his lifeguard training. “Pulse steady, breathing strong, but we should still signal the Watchtower for a medevac.”

“What was that thing?” Glimmer asked, staring into the dark sky. She could still feel the miasma of chaotic magic, hanging in the air like an oily film.

“That was the Enchantress,” Harley sighed. “She’s somekinda nutty witch-ghost-demon thingy that keeps tryin’ to possess poor June so she can… I dunno, take over the world or blow it up or something?”

“That’s not very specific,” Glimmer said.

“Waddya want, kid? I’m a psychiatrist, not an exorcist!” Harley snipped, smacking her phone. June may not have been her patient, but they were still her friend (sorta). Either way she wasn’t about to air their trauma out in public. “Great, all the spooky particles in the air must be screwing with reception. We’ll have to run back to the farmhouse ta call in the big leagues.”

“Is that safe?” Bow asked.

“Relax, hun,” Harley said. “Ol’ Chanty’s probably halfway ‘cross the Midwest by-” The sky was suddenly rent by a flash of emerald lightning and a shriek of demoniacal rage. “Or not.”

*

“DZAMOR’S DROPPINGS!!!”

The Enchantress swore as the pain surging through her stolen body finally subsided. It had almost been enough to swat her from the air. The crystal sky before her had seemed clear and free before she had been sent reeling by a wall of pure mystic force. The Enchantress unleashed an eldritch bolt, narrowly dodging as it was reflected back at her by a golden ankh.

“Of course,” she drawled. “Nabu.” The interfering old bucket had placed mystic wards all about the League’s precious ‘Sanctuary’ to bar occult incursions.

Meaning, you’re stuck in here.

“Hush, June!” the Enchantress hissed. “Or I promise once I do get out of here, my first stop will be another visit to your parents!”

Silence

“That’s better. Now, let me think…” The Enchantress recalled the subtle pressure when she had first crossed Sanctuary’s borders. Her connection to June had allowed her to bypass Nabu’s barrier. The wards had essentially recognized her and June as the same entity. Thus, since June was already within, there was no reason to keep Enchantress without.

All well and good, but now that she and June were one, she couldn’t exploit that particular loophole again. Typical Order magic. She didn’t have the raw power to force her way through the wards, nor the time to carefully dismantle them. Ironically, the simplest way to dissipate such wards was to destroy the very thing they were designed to protect.

No… Enchatress, don’t…

The demon sorceress’s lips curled in a cruel leer as she turned back towards the heart of Sanctuary.

Please, the people down there… They’ve never done anything to you!

“And since when have I ever let that stop me?” The Enchantress guffawed, riding the wind into the very heart of Sanctuary.

PLEASE! You don’t understand what Sanctuary means to them! They depend on it!

“Sorry, June, but you of all people should know…” The Enchantress halted above the old farmhouse, raising pale slender hands as the dark skies above churned like a witch’s cauldron. “There are no Safe Spaces.”

Emerald lightning arced from ebon clouds. The central maple tree was the first casualty, bursting into green flames as blazing splinters flew in all directions like shrapnel. The farmhouse itself was next, windows shattering with a whip-crack of thunder. Everywhere the Enchantress turned her hand, destruction and havoc spread like wildfire, often literally. Her harsh shattered laughter rose above even the howling winds, reveling in the uninhibited destruction.

“BONZAI!!!” Quinn’s shrill cry rent the air. The Enchantress glanced up, with only the briefest moment for a single question to flash across her mind.

Where in Dzamor’s name did she get that mallet?

Harley struck with an earsplitting thwack, sending the Enchantress reeling through the air. The former Clown Princess of Crime whooped triumphantly as she tumbled through the air, before landing on a floating disk of shimmering violet runes.

“You okay!?” Glimmer asked worriedly, piloting the disk.

“You shittin’ me!?” Harley beamed, her grin wide and manic. “I wanna do that AGAIN!”

The Enchantress landed in an abandoned pigsty; filth caked to her midnight robes. Just one more indignity for the fleshlings to suffer for. She’d barely staggered to her bare feet when a golden arrowhead detonated behind her, rapidly encasing everything save her face in hardening translucent gelatin.

“Whooo!” Bow fist pumped. “Jello-arrow wins… again?”

His confidence wavered as the block of hardened gelatin began to smoke and bubble before being entirely boiled away by coruscating viridian fire. The enchantress stepped out of the conflagration. She stalked towards the young archer; her form wreathed in tongues of eldritch flames like a halo of searing rage.

“Oh boy,” Bow squeaked.

The Enchantress was abruptly knocked off-balance by a barrage of blazing violet bolts.

“HANDS OFF MY BEAU!” Glimmer roared, strafing the Enchantress from her flying glyph-disk as Harley clung on for dear life.

The Enchantress couldn’t help but be begrudgingly impressed. If not for the Chaos sorceress’ own hastily erected runeshield, the young mage-queen’s assault would have easily overpowered her. Still, raw talent was no substitute for experience.

With a few deft flicks of her wrist, the Enchantress altered the runes of her eight-pointed shield, transforming it into a focusing lens. A beam of blinding eldritch light lanced from the shield’s ‘eye’. The lance of light struck Glimmer’s violet glyph disk, shattering it like glass, sending her and Harley tumbling to the ground below.

Catra watched the declining battle from the shadow of the barn, Melog coiling tensely at her feet. She was glad they’d left Angelo and Danny back at the pond to look after the old lady. The two Earth boys would’ve been way out of their depth in a fight like this.

Adora slumped against the side of the barn, eyes blank, knees still shaking. Catra bent by her side. “Adora, babe, no pressure… but we could really use She-Ra right about now.”

“I… I don’t think I can…” Adora’s voice was low and thin, almost a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, that’s okay.” Catra smiled warmly, giving Adora’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Just wait here, I’ll be back in just a sec.”

Adora nodded wordlessly.

At an imperceptible nod from Catra, Melog cloaked the two felines in an invisibility glamour, leaving Adora as utterly alone as she felt.

Across the farmyard, the Enchantress had reshaped her eldritch flames into a fiery whip, lashing at the currently most irksome target of her ire. “First Joker, then Waller, now the Justice League!? You really will let anyone yank your leash, won’t you, Quinzel?!”

“What can I say? I’m a sub at heart!” Harley quipped, keeping one step ahead of the flaming whip before ducking behind a stack of water barrels. Her heart was racing, her breathing ragged. She was getting too old for this kinda thing. “C’mon, Junebug, I know you’re still in there! How ‘bout cutting your ol’ galpal, Harl some slack here?”

“You think that mewling sop can help you?”

With a flick of her wrist, the Enchantress summoned tendrils of emerald mist that wrapped about the invisible Catra and Melog, who had just been in mid-pounce before shimmering back into visibility. The two felines trashed futilely, bound in mid-air. Their bonds were as transparent and faint as mist yet constricted like iron chains.

“June Moone was nothing before I found her! June Moone is nothing!” The Enchantress didn’t even break her stride, ignoring the cats for now. “She possessed more raw potential than almost any Homo Magi on this planet, but she’d rather teach incontinent brats to finger paint. From the moment I laid my gaze upon her, I saw June Moone for what she truly was; a weak, sniveling waste of flesh. She’s no use to anyone else, she might as well be some use to me.”

“Don’t you talk about Junebug like that!” Harley growled darkly, knuckles whiter than usual as they clenched about the shaft of her mallet.

“Struck a nerve, did I? But, of course, you’d know all about letting yourself be used,” The Enchantress raised her hand, allowing mystic energies to build for the final strike. “Wouldn’t you, Quinzel?”

Adora watched in horror from the shadow of the barn, she wanted to move, to stop what was about to happen. She tried to summon her energy sword, but the best she could manage was the palest flicker of magic in her palm, a flicker that quickly died like a flame in an ice wind. Screw the sword. Her friends were about to die. Adora braced herself to rush the Enchantress when-

“WHAHOOO!”

Danny Chase leapt out of nowhere, sending the Enchantress’ mystic blast flying wild as he tackled her. He clung to her shoulders like a desperate wildcat to an enraged bullock.

“Danny?!” Harley gawked in shock. “Forgive my inappropriate, insensitive, and unprofessional language but… ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY!?!”

“It’s okay!” Danny yelled. “I think I got he-” Tendrils of eldritch mist coiled about his limbs, peeling him off his foe like gum from the bottom of a shoe. He flailed helplessly in mid-air.

“I’m starting to think you brats aren’t taking me seriously,” hissed the Enchantress, her voice a deathly rasp.

The misty tendrils constricted tighter about Danny’s limbs, twisting them in ways they were never meant to bend. His teeth clenched as he tried to hold back the screams but, in the end, he was only a twelve-year-old kid.

“DANNY!?” Harley shrieked in abject horror as, with one last sadistic wrench, the Enchantress literally ripped the boy in two.

“Oops, looks like I broke your Pinocchio,” chortled Enchantress, sending the two halves of Danny’s broken body across the farmyard before turning her attention back to the battle. The upper torso skidded to a halt by what remained of the old maple, twitching wretchedly.

That was too much for Adora, she bolted from her hiding place, dashing to the side of Danny Chase, or what was left of him. She had no idea what she could do for him now, what anyone could do. But she had to try… something.

She braced herself for what she was about to see. For a moment, she thought her brain was simply refusing to process the horror. Where she had thought to see bloody entrails trailing from the boy’s broken abdomen, she found instead sleek insulated cables hanging loose. Instead of spurting blood, there snapped hot electrical sparks.

“Danny!” Bow knelt at the mechanical boy’s side, examining the damage. “Can you still hear me?”

“UghhZZZT, looks like ah’m half the man ah used ta be?” Danny’s released an odd static buzz from his throat. It took Adora a second to realize it was a chuckle.

“Are… are you a robot?” The question sounded stupid to Adora as soon as she voiced it.

Danny smiled weakly, “Only ‘bout ninety-five percent o’ me, ma’am.”

Adora turned to Bow. “You don’t seem surprised?”

“He mentioned it while we were talking before,” Bow said, frantically stabilizing Danny’s systems. “I thought he was joking.”

“Whole reason I’m at Sanctuary, ma’am. Well, one o’ the reasons. Vic, Red Tornado and Mr. Steele wanted me to get use to m’new bod after they whipped it up for me.” Danny sighed, a shockingly organic sound as his voice turned low and bitter. “Desaad didn’t leave much of m’old one.”

Adora stiffened at mention of the God of Torment. “You were taken to Apokolips?”

“Don’t feel bad for me, ma’am.” Danny smiled weakly. “Lotta folks never make it outta there at all.”

“Is he gonna be okay?” Adora asked, turning to Bow.

“I think so,” Bow answered warily, stained to the elbows with greasy lubricant. “Luckily, it looks like the life-support for his organic brain is heavily compartmentalized and has about three different backups. He should be fine until web get Cyborg down here.”

“I’m real sorry ‘bout all this. If Vic or Vi were here, I could just boot that witch inta the Phantom Zone,” said Danny. “I guess tryna tackle her m’self was mighty stupid, wasn’t it?”

“You were very brave, Danny,” replied Adora quietly, rising to her feet.

Her steel blue eyes cleared as she calmed the storm inside her. She could still feel the fear, the doubt, the guilt, swirling under the surface like a riptide. She knew it would destroy her eventually if left unchecked. But she could ride the waves for now, just for a little longer.

“Wait, where are you going?” Bow asked.

“To be brave too,” Adora summoned her energy sword, like unsheathing a moonbeam, raising it high above her head.

“FOR THE HONOR OF GRAYSKULL!”

*

Across the farmyard, The Enchantress and Glimmer were locked in a duel of spell and counter-spell, glyphs of shining violet clashing against runes of sickly green.

“Oh, you’re very good, darling,” trilled the Enchantress, grinning wickedly as she spotted an almost imperceptibly misaligned glyph in Glimmer’s shield. “But not quite good enough.” The Chaos sorceress struck at the malformed glyph, sending a surge of thaumaturgical feedback cascading through the mage-queen’s body.

Glimmer fell back with a scream of pain. She’d barely hit the ground before the Enchantress pounced; pale fingers clamped about the mage-queen’s jaw with an inhuman strength that belied their gauntness.

“Such potential, such raw untapped power, in such… untutored hands.” The Enchantress’ eyes blazed with demoniacal lust as she ran a talon-like nail down Glimmer’s cheek. “Perhaps I should consider trading in dear June for a… younger model?”

Glimmer struggled in the Chaos sorceress’ grip. The two mages’ eyes met, and the Enchantress’ cruel leer crinkled into a sneer of disgust as she gazed deeper into the mage-queen’s violet orbs.

“What are you?”

Before Glimmer could respond a new voice rang out. “Hey!”

The Enchantress turned to find an eight-foot-tall warrior clad in armor of white and gold, leveling a sword of light directly at her.

“Step. Off.” She-Ra’s voice was cold as steel. “NOW!”

The Enchantress smirked, casting aside her prey to turn on the Princess of Power. “Oh, look, June!” The demon sorceress chortled. “It’s your little friend, Adorabelle… or whatever her name is.”

“This is how it’s going to go down,” She-Ra spoke, tone as level as her blade. “You’re going to leave my friends alone. You’re going to vacate June’s body. And finally, you’re going back to whatever pit you crawled out of.”

The Enchantress tilted her head in mock bemusement. “Or else?”

“There’s no ‘or else’.”

“Oh, I am all aquiver,” crooned the Enchantress. The Chaos sorceress struck like a cobra, fingers like vulture’s talons digging into She-Ra’s throat. The Princess of Power tried to raise her sword arm, only for the Enchantress to clasp her wrist like a vice. She-Ra’s feet kicked at empty air as the floating sorceress dragged her from the ground.

“Did you really think you could defeat me with that shiny penknife?” The Enchantress hissed.

“I don’t have to beat you,’ She-Ra gasped, a golden nimbus softly suffusing her form. “I just have to save June!”

Before the Enchantress could react, She-Ra raised her free hand, gently cupping the demon sorceress’ pale cheek.

*

Adora abruptly found herself in the great hall of an ancient castle. It wasn’t like the elegant castles of Etheria, all smooth marble and sleek gold, but rather built from blocky slabs of roughhewn stone.

“Well… this is new.”

Figures milled or danced about the great hall. Their colors were bright, vibrant; yet their outlines were oddly blurred, undefined, like walking splotches of paint. Adora tapped one on the shoulder. “Umm… excuse me?”

The figure turned, removing a garish mask to reveal smooth mannequin blankness beneath. Adora leaped back in shock, face contorting as she tried to hold tight to her composure.

“Oh… Um… hiiii!”

The costumed mannequin tilted its head bemusedly. “Walla?”

“I… uh… Pardon?”

“Walla walla?”

“Okaaaay, Adora, keep it together. This is only like… the third weirdest thing that’s ever happened to you.” She turned back to the mannequin. “I’m looking for friend of mine; green sweater, mousey brown hair? You haven’t seen them, have you?”

“Walla!” The mannequin chin-pointed across the great hall, where a lone figure sat forlornly in a dim corner, arms wrapped protectively about their bunched legs.

“Thanks,” said Adora, letting the mannequin get back to the party. She sat gently by the green-sweater clad femme’s side with a quiet smile. “Hey?”

“Hey,” June Moone replied without much emotion.

Adora took a minute to take in the bizarre masquerade taking place about her. Now that she really looked, some of the costumed mannequins seem more… defined than others, their outlines sharper, their faces more finished, like clay sculptures in various stages of completion. “What is this place?”

“It’s a costume party in Scotland,” said June. “It’s where I come when the Enchantress is… well, being her.”

“It’s a memory?”

June nodded. “My last happy one before...”

Adora followed June’s gaze across the hall; a second June Moone danced, younger, more vibrant. Past-June was dressed like a cartoon witch, twirling shyly under an oversized pointy green hat. Leading the dance was a man, boyishly handsome, rosy-cheeked and clad in jester’s motley. He leaned in to peck the younger Moone affectionately on the cheek.

“Alan,” Present-June answered Adora’s unspoken question. “He was the love of my life before the Enchantress took him away. You can’t imagine what that’s like, having some monster crawl inside you and take everything.”

“Maybe more than you think.” Adora winced. “But I do know that people like the Enchantress never stop taking, not until someone makes them stop. Eventually, she’s going to keep hollowing you out until there’s nothing left... not even memories.”

Adora knelt in front of June, remembering words she herself needed to hear what seemed like a lifetime ago. “You deserve so much more than that, June. You deserve love and happiness too, You deserve to… to draw frogs and teach finger-painting and go to costume parties in weird drafty old castles!”

June snorted, flashing an all too brief smile. “I don’t think I can go back to what my life was before.”

“Maybe not… Maybe neither of us can go back,” admitted Adora, reaching out a hand. “But we can try going forward?”

*

The Enchantress was screaming.

Her features distended in rage, pain, and abject terror. She felt the power welling up from somewhere deep inside her stolen shell. It like an ember long thought stamped out, flaring into a roaring flame; or a song rising from a deep abyss, blended with hope and sorrow. It was terrible and beautiful as a newborn star.

The Enchantress clawed at the Princess of Power with impotent desperation. “What… are you… doing… to me!?”

She-Ra’s glowing gaze was fixed and immutable, her hands clasped about the demon sorceress’ cheeks. “I’m doing nothing to you.”

The Enchantress’ eyes went wide as she realized who her true enemy was.

“No… No! June, you can’t do this! Don’t you realize you’re nothing without me?!” She threw her head back, black-green ichor seeping from the corners of her lips and eyes like tar as she shrieked hatefully.

“I OWN YOU!!”

One by one, the Enchantress felt June Moone’s soul burn away the threads that bound it like cobwebs. The Chaos sorceress clung on with every ounce of spite and avarice she could muster, only to realize at the final moment it wouldn’t be enough… it would never be enough again.

“Please, June!? I can’t go back to the Void!” The Enchantress wailed piteously before the very last thread binding her to the material plane was severed forever. “I caAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”

With one last demoniacal howl, the pale robed form disgorged a pillar of inky darkness and sickly green light into the sky above. For one moment, the heavens turned black as the abyss behind the stars before dispersing to reveal the crystal blue beyond.

She-Ra floated to the tender earth, like a descending angel, cradling a still form wrapped in a green sweater. The golden aura dispersed as they both alighted on the soft grass, leaving only the mortal forms of Adora and June Moone.

June’s eyelids fluttered dreamily at first before snapping open with sudden urgency. “Danny!?” She bolted across the ruined farmyard, falling to her knees at the bisected cyborg’s body. “Oh, Danny…”

“H-hey, Mx. Moone.” Danny smiled lopsidedly, facial servos glitching slightly.

“Danny, I…” June spoke haltingly, a small sob catching in her throat. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey now, I know it weren’t you,” he said softly, before dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “’Sides, I’m hopin’ I can use this to talk Vic into makin’ me taller.”

June covered her mouth to stifle a chuckle, before turning back to Adora. “What happened to the Enchantress?”

“She went back where she came from,” Adora spoke with soft finality. “Where she’ll never hurt you or anyone else ever again.”

June nearly choked on her sob, dabbing the corner of her eyes with a green sleave. “Thank you.”

Adora nodded wordlessly, turning as Catra and Melog tentatively padded towards her.

“Hey, Adora?” said Catra. “Are you okay?”

“Hey, Catra,” Adora halted. “Yeah… I just wanted to say - about blowing up at you earlier, I-”

“Eh, Forget about it. Heck knows I’ve said wor-” Catra was cut-off as Adora hugged her tight, before breaking down into tears.

“I love you so much,” Adora sobbed, holding tight to Catra as though afraid she might blow away in the wind. “But not nearly as much as you deserve.”

Catra squeezed back, just as tight. “You’re not okay, are you?”

“No… No, I’m not,” sniffled Adora quietly. “But… I think I will be.”

She gave Catra a last squeeze and wiped her eyes before striding across the farmyard, where a limping Harley was leaning on Glimmer for extra support.

“Dr. Quinzel,” began Adora. “I owe you a big apology for what I said before. I’ll understand if you say ‘no’ but I’d really like to give it another try… if you’ll have me?”

“Thaaat’s great, hunnn,” slurred Harley, swaying on her feet. “Jusss lemme finish my naaap…” With that she keeled over, only to be caught by Glimmer.

“Is she…?”

“She’s fine, just exhausted,” answered Glimmer. “I think.”

“Nnngg… Fivvve more minutes, Red,” mumbled Harley sleepily.

*

Recognized:

Miss Martian-B-Zero-Five.

M’gann emerged from the amber glow of the whirring Zeta-Tube to find herself standing in a half burned down barn. “Holy C'eridy'all! What happ-” She halted, before being rushed by Adora, Glimmer, Catra, June, and an elderly woman she didn’t even recognize.

“-giant glowly pillar of doom!”

“-tore Danny in half then-”

“-my poor Chester!?”

M’gann threw her arms up in exasperation. “One at a time, please!”

It took about seven minutes for them to bring her up to speed on what had happened, another four minutes to relay all that back to the watchtower, and five more minutes to Zeta in Cyborg and ‘A33’ to check on Danny, Harley, and Mrs. Kramer (not to mention relieve Bow and Angelo from their impromptu field medic duties in the farmhouse).

“I’m sorry you all had to go through that,” said M’gann once she’d had a moment to process. “We didn’t even realize Enchantress had breached Sanctuary.”

Catra cocked her head. “Wait, isn’t that why you’re here?”

“I wish it was.” M’gann eyed the Etherians. “We should talk somewhere private.”

*

M’gann locked the door of the farmhouse study behind her, Adora, Glimmer, Catra, Bow and Melog. She telekinetically drew the curtains, dimming the golden light of the evening sun into an ochre haze.

“Around the time Enchantress manifested, your ship, Darla, intercepted a distress call from Etheria. She then immediately began flooding all communications frequencies with it from inside the Watchtower’s hanger,” said M’gann. “I don’t know how self-aware Darla is, but Cyborg swore it was almost like she was panicking. It took him hours just to calm her down enough to clear our channels. That’s why I wasn’t here sooner.”

“Distress call?” Adora asked.

“See for yourself.”

M’gann pulled out a portable holo-projector, placing it on a coffee table. It clicked to life, projecting the image of a weary-looking man in torn purple robes. His broad face was framed by a black-grey beard, his dark eyes haunted as he leaned on his mage staff for support.

“Dad?” Glimmer whispered fearfully as Bow placed an arm around her.

“This is King Micah of Bright Moon, requesting any and all aid! Invaders have laid siege to the castle; we’ve lost contact with the other kingdZZKT!” The hologram flickered for a moment, looking small and faint. “Glimmer, if you can hear me, I-”

Holo-Micah’s voice was suddenly drowned out by a hateful shriek. He responded by launching a mystic-bolt from his staff at something outside the holo’s field view, before staggering back. He was swiftly replaced by a holographic Parademon, its eyeless maw frozen in an expression of ravenous hunger before the playback cut-off.

“The transmission ends there,” said Miss Martian somberly.

“I knew this would happen,” said Adora, turning to address her comrades. “We need to get back to Etheria before Darkseid can-” She halted, noticing the guilty looks in their eyes. “What?”

“Adora,” said Bow hesitantly. “It’s not Darkseid.”

“Then who…?”

Catra took a deep breath and rested her hand on Adora’s arm, bracing them both for what came next. “There’s something you need to know.”

*

THE IRON FIST

June 28, 01:20 UCT

Etheria hung within the frame of the holoscreen. So vulnerable, so fragile, like a thing of stained glass. General Vundabar, in his newly pressed white and gold uniform, stood on the new flagship’s command deck.

“Ground forces are fully deployed, Herr Prime,” he reported. “The invasion has begun.”

From upon His throne, Horde Prime smiled.

*

OA

June 28, 01:21 UTC

“Welcome to the Galactic Science Prison. I’m Probationary Lantern Tomar-Tu,” spoke the young Xudarian genially, clicking his beak.

Oa, homeworld of the Guardians and headquarters of the Green Lantern Corps hung in the panoramic window behind Tomar’s desk, an amber orb set against the tightly packed stars of the galactic core.

“They’re perps, probie, not tourists,” grunted an exasperated Kilowog. ”Ya don’t gotta be polite, just book ‘em already.” The veteran Lantern had just completed the third prisoner transport all the way from Earth in as many months and wasn’t in the mood for Tomar’s usual passion for protocol.

“Um… yes, of course, Lantern Kilowog, one moment…” Tomar’s Power Ring flashed a bright verdant light, initiating a scan of the first prisoner.

Identity: Desaad, God-Scientist and Chief Torturer of Apokolips.

Species: New God.

Criminal Record: Processing…

Processing…

Processing…

71,5216 separate charges of crimes against sapience.

“Is that all?” Desaad leered. The inhibitor collar and Corps issue hyper-cuffs did little to curb the immortal’s arrogance. “I must be slowing down in my old age.”

“Yuk it up, poozer. With your rap sheet, you’ll be lucky to make parole before Heat Death.” Kilowog gave the God of Torture a rough shove to hurry him along as Tomar scanned the next prisoner.

Identity: Unknown

Species: Unknown

“Hmm… that’s unusual…” Tomar clucked his beak perplexedly. “I beg your pardon, Mx, but do you mind stating your name and species for our records?”

“I’m whatever you want me to be, cutie,” purred Double Trouble, leaning over Tomar’s desk as they coquettishly nictitated their membranes at him.

“I… uh…”

Tomar froze, blood rushing to his cranial fin as he fought down the urge to fidget with his ring. He’d read the Book of Oa back to front at least sixteen times, memorized over four hundred Corps by-laws, but had no idea how to respond. A prisoner had never flirted with Tomar before! Nobody had ever flirted with Tomar before! Should he laugh it off, ignore them? He had to say something before the pause got awkward, or they’ll think he’s weird.

“Oh, for Branwilla's sake,” Kilowog groaned. “Probie, get ‘em off the desk already!”

Desaad snickered low.

Kilowog rounded on him. “Somethin’ funny, creep?”

“Only this bureaucratic farce.” Desaad’s lip curled in a wicked smile. “We both know how this will end, Lantern. When my Master comes for me, your masters will half-heartedly rattle their sabers for a bit. But inevitably, to maintain their precious status quo, they will have no choice but to acquiesce and release me. So do all things inexorably bend to the will of Dread Darkseid.”

Kilowog glared down at the Apokoliptan, his tusk-like jowls trembling with seeming fury before…

“BWAHAHAHAHA!!!”

The Bolovaxian Lantern nearly doubled over, his bawling laughter echoing off the walls of the satellite prison. “Oh, that is fracking beautiful.” Kilowog wiped a tear from his ruby eye. “Ya hear that, kid? Ol’ ‘Deslime’ here didn’t get the memo!?”

Desaad’s eyes darkened with fury, he was unaccustomed to being mocked. “What are you babbling about, swine?”

“Ya didn’t hear? Apokolips is under new management on account o’ Big Daddy Darkseid bein’ space dust.”

“No… that’s… that’s not possible!” Desaad blanched. “YOU LIE!!!”

“Believe it, poozer,” replied Kilowog, deathly serious. He jabbed the New God with a thick digit to punctuate every word of what came next. “Darkseid is dead. Which means ain’t nobody, but nobody, comin’ ta save your greasy, sick, twisted-”

Everyone nearly toppled over as the satellite lurched to one side. Kilowog quickly staggered upright in the flickering light, bracing himself against a wall as the fluctuating artificial gravity played havoc with his equilibrium.

“Probie, what the krast was that?!”

“External sensors offline!” Tomar frantically worked his console. “My best guess is some kind of sub-space disruption. But that would take a craft of massive size dropping into real space almost on top of us.”

“Ya mean like that?” Kilowog pointed past Tomar, to the great panoramic window where Oa had been utterly eclipsed by the looming shadow of the Warworld.

“Oooh…” Double Trouble thrilled. “Plot twiiist!”

Chapter Text

ETHERIA

June 28, 16:01 UTC

Bright Moon had fallen.

The attack had come without warning. Dozens of thunderous portals had erupted across the moon-filled skies, disgorging a swarm of screeching cyber-beasts. They had descended on the castle and outlying town like devil-locusts, spreading terror and destruction indiscriminately. That had only been the first wave.

“Everyone, keep together,” yelled Micah, King Dowager and King Father of Bright Moon.

He led a column of refugees from the battle through the ever-shifting pathways of the Whispering Wood. They followed the light of his mage-staff like a steady star in the forested night.

“LEENA?! LEENA?!”

Micah heart jerked at the desperate pang in the cry. He knew that sound well, the voice of a panicking parent.

“King Micah! King Micah!”

He turned to see a stoutly built faun racing up to him. He recognized zir immediately. “Hemli?” The faun and zir husband owned a small farmstead on the edge of Bright Moon where they lived along with…

“My daughter,” Hemli grabbed the King Dowager by the shoulder, heedless of rank or protocol, on the verge of breakdown. “Please, King Micah- I can’t find my daughter!”

“It’s alright, Hemli…” Micah tried to be a soothing as he could, but he knew he’d hardly be any more together if he was in zir hooves. “I’ll send Netossa and Spinny out to scout the woods. Don’t worry,” He tried to sound as hopeful as he could. “We’ll find her.”

*

Leena hadn’t meant to wander off from her adi, but the rushing crowd - the press of frightened desperate bodies, the noise of clashing voices and stampeding feet - had been too much. She just needed to get away, to be somewhere quiet, clear for a moment. Now she found herself lost in the undergrowth of the Whispering Woods, clutching a small handmade cloth doll to her chest.

“Adi… Adi…?”

Her hoof caught on a treacherous root, sending the faunlet tumbling into the damp earth. Broken twigs scratched at her as she sobbed piteously.

Something rustled in the undergrowth. Leena saw a shadowed figure move through the branches. “Adi!?” She dried her eyes, racing forward, only to freeze as the figure stepped fully into the light.

It was a hulking thing of burnished steel and grey-green flesh, with long simian arms that ended in scraping metal talons. Its face was eyeless, but Leena somehow knew with absolute certainty it could see her. Gangrenous lips peeled back to reveal yellowed saber fangs filed to needle points. It filled the grove with reeking stench, like something long buried had dug itself out of the deep earth.

Leena couldn’t move. She couldn’t even scream. Her eyes screwed tight as she retreated into herself. Wake up! Wake up! Please wake up! She pleaded with herself as the Parademon’s talons reached for her, snick-snacking as they scraped against each other...

Wake up!

Snick-snack!

Wake up!

Snick-snack!

Wake up!

Snick-sna-

A blast of cyclonic wind came surging out of nowhere, ramming the Parademon into a nearby boulder. The creature stirred groggily before a second blast hit it, and a third, until it was still as the stone it lay against.

With a gust of wind, a third figure landed in the clearing between Leena and the fallen Parademon, clad all in purple except for a silver and blue choker. Even his short-cropped hair was purple. The faunlet couldn’t recall his name, but she’d seen the Prince of Wind and Air flying to and from Castle Bright Moon often enough to recognize him.

The Prince turned with a warm smile once he was sure the Parademon wasn’t getting back up anytime soon. “you okay?”

She nodded wordlessly.

He knelt to eye-level. “You must be Leena?”

Another nod.

“I’m Spinwit, by the way. Your adi’s been looking for you. C’mon, we better be getting back to the others.”

He offered her a hand, which she took after a moment’s hesitation before they began making their way back through the winding forest.

“Spinwit’s a nice name,” spoke Leena eventually, breaking the silence.

“Thanks, it’s new.”

“You can fly?”

“Yeah, but I think it’d be safer if we walk for now.”

“So the monsters don’t see us?”

“Yeah…”

“My dad was at Bright Moon when they came outta the sky,” Leena said flatly. “Adi and I haven’t seen him since.”

Spinwit winced, looking for a way to shift directions on this conversation. “So, that’s a cool doll.”

“Thank you. I made it myself.” Leena squeezed the cloth doll closer; yellow straw bound about its head, red fabric tied about its neck for a cape, armed with a tiny wooden sword wrapped in foil. “Do you think she’ll come back for us?”

Spinwit didn’t need to ask who ‘she’ was. He glanced up, where the night stars peaked through the dark blue canopy, before they were clouded by the grey smoke rising from the East… from Bright Moon.

I hope so, he thought. “I know she will.”

*

DARLA

June 28, 16:32 UTC

Adora stood alone in front of the mirror. She’d changed back into her old red jacket, but it still wasn’t quite the same. She ran a hand through her close cropped dark blond hair; Despara’s hair. How long before she saw her own reflection looking back at her again?

The door chimed.

“Come in.”

The door slid open, allowing Catra entry into the small cabin. “Hey, Adora! This a bad time?”

“Catra?” Adora smiled, one of her first real smiles since… “You don’t have to ask; this is your room too.”

“Yeah, I know,” Catra sat on the edge of the bed. “But I kind got the feeling you wanted to be alone.”

“I was alone.” Adora sighed sitting down on the bed herself. “Whether or I wanted to be or not.”

Catra gave Adora’s hand a small squeeze. She didn’t draw back this time but there was still a tension in her fingers that wouldn’t quite go away.

“So, where’s Melog?” Adora asked.

“Keeping the ship cloaked while Rainbow booms us in.”

The two sat in long quiet for a while.

“Catra…” Adora spoke timorously. “Wou- Would you still love me if I… If I changed.”

“What kinda question is that?”

“I just- I don’t think I’m the same person I was before.”

“Who is?” Catra said, falling back on the bed.

“Catra, I’m being serious!”

“So am I. Adora, I couldn’t stop loving you if I tried. And that’s not me being all mushy either. I literally tried. I spent almost three years trying to make myself hate you, and see how that turned out?”

Adora fell back on the bed herself. “Point taken.”

“To be honest,” murmured Catra. “I’m not even sure I know who I am.”

Adora curled into Catra’s arm. “What do you mean?”

Catra stroked Adora’s dark blond fuzz. “I mean this whole mess has made me realize that every single decision I’ve ever made in life has just been me reacting to something you did first.”

“C’mon, that’s not-”

“Yes, it is,” Catra whispered. “Adora, when you first left the Horde, I thought it was because of me, that by rejecting the Horde you were rejecting me!”

“Catra…”

“I know, I know! Now that I say it out loud, I realize how fucking psycho that sounds. I guess that’s the big difference between us. You’ve always believed in things bigger than you. I’m still figuring out how to do that. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be dumping all this on you. Guess we’re both pretty moded, huh?”

“Pretty what?”

“Uuugh, it’s just this dumb Earth thing Sparkles and Bow picked up, now they got me doing it.”

“Huh, ‘moded’? Yeah, I guess we are.” Adora chuckled softly, running her fingers through Catra’s now near shoulder length hair. “You know, I think you could pull off that ponytail after all.”

Catra snorted, then fell silent for a moment. “Adora, I’ve been thinking, when this mess with Prime is over-”

Darla’s intercom suddenly pinged as Bow’s voice echoed through the cabin. “Adora, Catra, to the bridge. It’s time.”

*

Adora and Catra arrived on the bridge, finding Glimmer, Bow, Halo, and Terra waiting for them. Alongside them stood Miss Martian, Superboy, Tigress and Cyborg. The rusted copper green moon of Zin hung in the viewscreen, hopefully shielding Darla from the prying sensors of the Apokoliptan Horde as they Boom-Tubed into the lunar system. The viridian orb slowly peeled back to reveal Etheria itself, little more than a purple-green drop in the sea of night.

“Hey, Rainbow,” hailed Catra, approaching Halo as they leant against a crystalline bulkhead looking uncharacteristically pale. “You doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” they answered, rubbing their eyes. “Booming across the galaxy usually takes a bit out of me; but I’ll be fine once I catch my breath.”

“I’m not picking up any comm signals from Etheria’s surface,” said Bow, seated in Darla’s command chair. “The Horde may just be jamming us or…”

“Can you give us a look at what we’re up against, Bow?” Tigress asked.

“On it.”

A holo-image of Etheria flickered into existence above their heads, highlighting the orbital trajectories of at least sixteen Apokoliptan warships.

“I’m picking up a lot of encoded sub-space chatter to and from one ship in particular,” said Bow. “Like a lot a lot. Must be the flagship. Lemme bring up the telemetry.”

Adora’s breath caught in her throat as the 3D image zoomed in on the vessel in question. She instantly recognized the knife-like profile, like a dagger poised over Etheria’s heart.

“The Velvet Glove?”

“Not exactly,” Bow answered, superimposing a grid frame of Horde Prime’s former flagship over the new vessel. “It definitely built along the same design parameters; but using Apokoliptan tech.”

Adora could see the difference now. Where the Velvet Glove had been all gleaming white and stainless steel, this new flagship was void black, like a shard of obsidian.

Catra absently rubbed the back of her neck. “Prime’s probably got half the Apokoliptan military mind-chipped by now.”

“If I know Apokoliptans, the other half won’t care,” Superboy snorted with unveiled disgust.

Adora tried not to stare at the half-Kryptonian, or the scarlet crest emblazed on his black tee, just like Kara’s. Kara had been the one gleam of decency in all Apokolips. The ‘Supergirl’ had stayed behind to give the Adora and Catra time to escape. But now Adora had no idea where Kara was; or if she was even still alive.

“If Prime’s resurrected the Horde Hive-Mind then he’ll need a new central server to manage it; which should be right…” Bow pinged a location along the flagship’s central axis. “Here!”

“If he’s using Apokoliptan tech; I should be able to hack it,” said Cyborg. “Crash his whole mode. The hard part will be physically getting there.”

“Except the server room’s gonna be the most heavily guarded position on the whole ship after Prime’s throne room,” said Catra. “You’ll never get near it!”

“They will if we bait Prime with something he can’t resist,” said Adora. “Me.”

“No!” Catra was vehement. “Adora, you’ve done enough!”

“Catra, I need to do this. Not just for Etheria, but for me,” spoke Adora softly. “If I don’t confront Prime now; I’m going to be running from him for the rest of my life.”

“Wait a sec,” Glimmer interjected. “If this is anything like the Velvet Glove, then how’re we gonna navigate it without access to the Horde Hive-Mind?”

“Luckily, we can improve our own ‘hive-mind’,” Miss Martian raised a hand to her temple. “If everyone consents to a psychic-link?”

Everyone gave a small nod, save Catra who grumbled a bit before begrudgingly relenting. “Uuuugh, fine!”

Darla’s bridge suddenly fell away, replaced by cycling images of the Velvet Glove dredged from the Etherians’ collective memories; Prime’s throne room where Adora had originally confronted the Horde Emperor, the cell were he had kept Glimmer for over a month, the endless white corridors where Catra had wandered under the watchful eyes of Prime’s clones. Each image was colorless and filmy, as though reflected in milky water, though tinged with emotion.

Through the mind-link, Adora felt something of the constant dread and hopelessness Catra and Glimmer had experienced during their time as Prime’s ‘guests’. Just like Apokolips, she thought.

The gleaming sterility of the Velvet Glove was at first glance utterly unlike the dismal grime of Darkseid’s throneworld. But any differences were only superficial. Both had been expressions of a single omnipresent, all-suffocating Will, one that would never be content until It had subsumed every sapient mind in existence into Itself; until It was all that existed.

<My psy-link will keep us all connected while we’re inside.> Miss Martian’s voice echoed through their minds.

<And the digital half of my brain will keep us in touch with Darla’s sensor array.> Cyborg added. <Between the two of us we should be able to keep on track in the maze.>

“Alright, we split into two squads,” Tigress spoke out loud. “Ms. M, Superboy, Glimmer, Terra and Cyborg are Alpha; you make your way to the server and shut it down. Halo, Catra, Adora and I are Beta; we fight our way to the throne room, keep Prime busy while Alpha does their thing. If we’re really lucky, Adora uses her She-Ra powers to exorcise Prime from Grayven’s body.”

“Two squads against an Apokoliptan capital ship?” Catra scoffed. “Great odds.”

“I know it’s not much but between the crisis on Betrassus and the recent Kobra attack in Coast City, this was all we could spare. Besides if all else fails we still have ‘Plan B’.” Tigress turned to Halo. “You get what you needed from Danny before we left?”

“I think so,” they answered uncertainly. “But I’ve never tried anything like it before.”

“Hopefully, you won’t have to.” Tigress’s voice was authoritative, naturally taking command. “Catra, make sure Melog keeps us cloaked. Bow, bring us as close to the flagship as you can. Once we’re in range, we’ll-”

Klaxons blared abruptly across the bridge.

“INCOMING!” Bow cried, initiating evasive maneuvers a spilt-second too late.

The entire ship lurched to one side, like a fly swatted by the hand of an angry giant, sending the young heroes careening across the bridge. The bridge was drowned in the bloody glare of emergency lighting.

A thin sparkling mist seeped through the upper bulkhead; pooling on the deck in the form of a prone Melog, their mane a sickly grey and their form still.

“MEL!?”

Catra crawled to the fey’s side. “You’re gonna be okay, right? Please be okay!”

“What happened?!” Tigress called out.

Adora was the first to answer.

“He can see us.”

*

THE IRON FIST

June 28, 16:48 UTC

“Oh, what fools these mortals be.”

Prime reclined upon His throne, flanked by three silent white hooded attendants. To think the Etherian degenerates and their Earthling allies actually believed they could evade His Sight, the sheer unmitigated hubris. It would be amusing were it not a direct affront to His Divinity.

“A glancing hit as you commanded, Herr Prime.” General Vundabar consulted his data-pad. “The Etherian vessel’s cloak has been disabled. Shall I terminate the schwein?”

“No, I shall reserve that pleasure for Myself.”

Prime’s consciousness expanded outwards, filling the Iron Fist with His very being. Through His flagship’s sensors, He ‘saw’ the limping crystalline craft desperately turn to flee, its engines sluggish and slow to respond. He ‘felt’ the fires building within the Iron Fist’s many weapon batteries, aching for release as He brought His full and undivided attention to bear on His wounded prey.

“Goodbye,” He whispered, savoring the anticipation of the kill. “My oldest enemy.”

A wave of force suddenly sent Prime’s mind reeling back into His corporeal vessel, and His corporeal vessel nearly out of His throne. The Iron Fist shook as though space itself was quaking.

“Report!?” Prime demanded imperiously.

“A massive sub-space distortion!” Vundabar groped for his fallen data-pad. “Something huge must have translated back into realspace right on top of us!” The general’s mouth went dry as he read the sensor data.

“Herr Prime, it- it’s-”

*

THE WARWORLD

June 28, 16:50 UTC

Cassandra Savage consulted her tablet. “Father, the Iron Fist is hailing us.”

“Then let us respond promptly,” intoned Vandal Savage, scarred lips curling slightly.

He mentally directed the Warworld’s missiles to lock onto the closest Horde warship, a rather humble gunship intended for light escort duty. He didn’t need to speak his next order out loud of course; the control-crown upon his brow directed his commands to the planetary dreadnought with the speed of thought. Still, old habits die hard.

“Fire!”

He watched the holo-emitters embedded in the command deck’s walls as the warship in question erupted in a silent white-blue bloom of radionic fire, before even that was consumed by the inky void.

“Half the Horde armada has broken orbit,” Cassandra’s voice was cool and detached. “They’re moving to intercept us.”

“Excellent.” Savage smiled with the pride of a hunter in a well laid trap. “Then we’ve made our intentions clear.”

“And sealed our deaths!” Desaad hissed, hovering behind Savage’s command throne like a crooked shadow. “Even the Warworld can’t hope to defeat an entire Apokoliptan armada alone!”

“We need not defeat the Horde armada, Desaad, merely keep them indisposed. Cassandra, open a channel to the Etherian vessel.”

*

DARLA

June 28, 16:52 UTC

“Oh, fuck my life,” Tigress muttered under her breath, eyes narrowing at the scarred visage upon Darla’s viewscreen.

“Queen Glimmer of Bright Moon; Princess Adora, She-Ra of Etheria,” Savage inclined his head respectfully to the Etherian royalty before casting a cold eye on Tigress. “Artemis.”

Adora glanced between Tigress and the scarred figure as they glared at each other. “You two know each other?”

“I am Vandal Savage of Earth,” replied the immortal warlord. “Suffice it to say, I am the enemy of your enemy. No doubt, you and your new allies were preparing to execute a daring covert raid on Horde Prime’s flagship when your cloak was penetrated. I believe I can help salvage your original plan.”

“Adora, listen to me,” Tigress interjected abruptly. “It would take too long to explain but you cannot trust Savage! Everything he does is part of one scheme or the other! For all we know, he’s working with Prime!”

“Respectfully, Artemis, Prime’s knife is not at the throat of our world, at least not today.” Savage’s gaze turned back to Adora. “Thus the decision belongs to neither of us.”

Adora was downcast for a long moment. She had no reason to doubt Tigress; but that didn’t change the fact that if Prime wasn’t stopped here and now, he’d raze Etheria to the ground and enslave whatever survivors were left. She raised her eyes to meet Savage’s.

 *

THE WARWORLD

June 28, 17:56 UTC

“Then we are agreed,” Savage replied. “I shall engage the Horde armada while you infiltrate the Iron Fist and neutralize Prime… however you see fit. Good hunting. Warworld out.”

He cut off communications before his new ‘allies’ had second thoughts, turning his attention to the Apokoliptan warships rapidly entering weapons range.

“You place too much trust in these children, Savage,” rasped Desaad.

“As I recall, Desaad, these same ‘children’ managed to humble you barely a week ago?”

The God of Torment fell into a bitter silence at that, muttering darkly to himself as he withdrew to a shadowed corner of the command deck.

Savage turned to his daughter, voice low. “Something troubles you, Cassandra?”

“I know this is hardly the time, father,” she replied. “But isn’t all this a bit… direct for us?”

“Horde Prime is the living embodiment of the very stagnation I have fought against for over fifty thousand years. He would see the entire cosmos frozen forever in the image of his so-called ‘perfection’,” Savage’s voice was a low growl, like an angered wolf. “I should have slit his throat eight centuries ago.”

*

THE IRON FIST

June 28, 16:58 UTC

“Send more ships to engage the Warworld!” Prime bellowed, his command roiling across the Hive-Mind as his voice echoed across the throne room. His body trembled with barely contained rage. “I want that… fossil blasted out of the sky!”

“At once, Herr Prime!” Vundabar replied with a shaky salute.

Prime sank into his throne, considering all the ways he would test the limits of the Earth savage’s supposed immortality once this was over. So lost in his dark fantasies was he that his conscious mind barely registered a minor security alert on one of the flagship’s lower decks.

*

The Parademon marched through the corridors of the Iron Fist, grey-green hide still raw where plates of gleaming chrome-white armor had been freshly riveted into its alien flesh. The armor bore the winged ebon sigil of Parademon’s new Master, the Master whose Voice was now a constant whisper in the creature’s mind. Not that any of that particularly mattered to the Parademon, it had never had much mind of its own to begin with.

It paused before a large airlock, attention caught by a low whine. The Parademon tilted its head like a bemused dog, listening as the whine grew higher and louder until…

KRA-CHOOOOOM!!!

The airlock blasted off its frame, crushing the luckless Parademon between it and the opposing bulkhead.

She-Ra, Princess of Power, leaped from the billowing smoke with her energy sword at the ready. She was quickly followed by the rest of Alpha and Beta Squads. Her breath caught momentarily as smoke cleared just enough to reveal her surroundings.

“No way…”

If the exterior of the Iron Fist had been a negative image of the Velvet Glove, than its interior was a perfect reflection. The endless corridors were exactly as Adora, Catra and Glimmer had remembered them; everything was bathed in the same cold acetic light, the deck polished to the same mirror like perfection, the vaulting ceiling upheld by the same deceptively organic buttresses like sculpted bone. Etheria help them, it even smelled the same; a harsh antiseptic sting in the air.

It was like they’d never left.

“Yeah, this isn’t creepy or triggering at all,” muttered Glimmer through a forced smile.

 “Stay whelmed, everyone,” said Tigress drawing her crossbow. “Stick to the plan, keep in telepathic contact. With any luck, we’ll all laugh about this later.”

*

Beta Squad - She-Ra, Tigress, Halo and Catra – stalked through the cold, silent and conspicuously empty corridors; under the cloak of Melog’s glamor. Catra knelt to run her fingers through the fey’s invisible mane.

“How you holding up, Mel?”

Melog chirped reassuringly. There was a growling determination in their voice, perhaps recalling their lost homeworld of Krytis as it was before Horde Prime had desolated it so many centuries ago.

They crept cautiously though endless winding hallways that twisted, turned, split off and whorled back on themselves in no decipherable pattern. Had it not been for Miss Martian’s mind-link - and Cyborg’s uplink to Darla’s sensor array - they’d already be hopelessly lost.

Theseus in the Labyrinth, thought Tigress.

<Wut?> She-Ra asked over the mind-link.

<Inside joke, I’ll explain later,> Tigress answered, turning her attention outward. <Beta Squad to Alpha Squad, you in position?>

<Alpha in position, Beta,> Miss Martian replied from elsewhere on the maze-ship.

<Roger that, Alpha,> Tigress confirmed. <Beta is approaching the target. We’ll signal once-> “AAARGH!!!”

Blinding acid light, piercing pain; some kind of energy attack. Or so Tigress reasoned as she and the rest of Beta Squad fell to the cold polished deck, clutching their skulls. Melog was the hardest hit, writhing and unable to maintain the glamor that kept them all hidden from unfriendly eyes.

“Naughty little ducklings,” sneered a treacle sweet voice. “Wandering the halls unsupervised.”

Their attacker stepped out of one of the rare shadows, clad in shining chrome armor and a cloak of stainless white, her Mega-Rod still crackling with energy.  Granny Goodness’ toadish lips smiled beatifically beneath emerald glowing eyes, her victims writhing in torment before her.

“Don’t you know what happens to naughty little-”

They never found out. Goodness lips were split mid-sentence by a radiant golden fist. The Apokoliptan stared blankly for a moment, as though trying to remember what she was about to say, before falling forward and planting face-first on the deck.

She-Ra stood above her former tormentor, breathe short, fist still trembling. “Etheria help me… but that felt soooo good!”

“I admit, I’m jealous,” Halo confessed.

Catra padded cautiously towards the unconscious Goodness, gingerly brushing aside the Apokoliptan’s grey mane to reveal a chrome disk embedded in the back of her neck.

“That confirms it, Mind-chipped.”

“If Granny’s here, we must be getting close,” said She-Ra.

“Alright then,” said Tigress, cocking her crossbow. “Time to bait the Minotaur.”

*

They finally came to a vaulting corridor, wide enough for the whole squad to walk abreast. On either side, an entire phalanx of Parademons stood to attention; still and motionless, like stone gargoyles. At the very end of the great hall stood a gate of polished ivory, titan doors inlaid with pale gold and emerald.

“This is it,” She-Ra whispered, crouched with Tigress behind the entry arch to the antechamber. Across from them, Catra, Halo and Melog took cover behind the other end of the arch.

Tigress peered around the corner. “No way we’re sneaking past all that, even with Melog’s glamor."

With a single abrupt motion, the head of every single Parademon snapped towards Tigress like a single organism. She’d only had a split-second to duck back into cover before they spoke.

“No need to skulk in doorways,” slurred the Parademonic chorus. Their fanged jaws cracked and popped, forced to unnaturally ape humanoid speech. “If you require an audience, you need only ask. Come, My children; step into the Light.”

“Yeah,” Tigress muttered under her breath, readying her crossbow. “Like we’re going to jus- She-Ra?!”

The Princess of Power stepped from the shadows, striding down the great hallway without haste or hesitation, followed promptly by Catra and Melog. Tigress exchanged an incredulous glare with Halo, who merely shrugged in response.

“Fine, we’re doing this now,” she hissed, signaling Halo to take up the rear as she emerged from cover. <You need a distraction, M’gann? You’re about to get a doosy.>

The Parademons’ heads moved in unison like some alien hydra. Their eyeless gaze tracked the five heroes who approached the great gate. The emerald inlaid doors slid back, preternaturally silent for all their cyclopean size, ushering Beta Squad into the Holy of Holies.

A polished chrome bridge spanned across the inky void, seemingly unsupported; leading up to a central dais where a lone throne loomed like a white rose, silhouetted against a shimmering viewscreen that fanned behind it like a peacock’s tail. About the dais, General Vundabar and three white hooded attendants stood at attention.

Every muscle in She-Ra’s body tensed like a taut cable as the white throne revolved to reveal Prime. His thin grey lips curled wickedly, four acid green eyes glinting with self-satisfaction.

“Welcome home… My Despara.”

*

Mystic bolts, sonic blasts and rocky chunks flew through the antechamber of the server room that housed the nexus of the Horde Hive-Mind. One of the swarming Parademons defending the chamber managed to evade the barrage only to be sent hurtling by a half-Kryptonian fist.

“You know, hun,” Superboy said. “When you said we should get out and do more together, this isn’t exactly what I thought you had in mind.”

Miss Martian telekinetically knocked the heads of two more Parademons together. “Maybe a beach day next time?”

Superboy backhanded another swooping Parademon. “It’s a date!”

“One more left!” Glimmer cried.

The final Parademon crouched like a cornered predator at the entry the server room as Miss Martian, Glimmer, Superboy, Cyborg and Terra closed in.

Cyborg charged his sonic cannon. “Almost feel sorry for the creep.”

“I don’t,” Terra droned, stomping forward in her stone armor.

Miss Martian hesitated, seeing the Parademon’s lips curl in a disturbingly intelligent smirk as a psychic charge crackled through the air.

<WAIT!>

Too late; Superboy, Glimmer, Cyborg and Terra were already leaping into the fray when the ‘Parademon’ unleashed a wave of psychic force without warning, sending the entirety of Alpha squad hurtling into the gleaming bulkheads.

Miss Martian was first to stagger to her feet, clutching a throbbing skull. An insidiously familiar voice echoed in her mind.

<’Step into my parlor’ said the Gra’zoon to the Ma'arzuu,>

“No,” M’gann whispered low as the ‘Parademon’s’ shape twisted and melted, becoming tall and spindly, it’s gangreen flesh turning ashy white.

<Hello, sweet sister,> echoed the voice of the M’comm M’orzz, eyes burning an acid green.

*

“Across the galaxy you have traveled, My child,” spoke Prime. “From Etheria to Apokolips, to Earth and back again. Yet no matter how far you run or how twisting the road; it has inexorably brought you back here, where all paths must inevitably end… at My feet.”

She-Ra, Tigress, Catra, Halo and Melog stood before the white throne. She-Ra and Tigress fingered their weapons; Catra and Melog flexed their claws, hackles raised; Halo tensed, muttering a wordless prayer to themself.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Prime,” She-Ra said sternly, stepping forward. “You’re going to withdraw all your ground forces form Etheria and order your fleet back to Apokolips, then you’re going to surrender yourself to New Genesis.”

Prime was silent as death, his acid green eyes hard as adamant before breaking into a scornful chortle. “And the Kryptonian thinks you have no sense of humor?”

She-Ra’s fingers clenched about the hilt of her sword. “What have you done with Kara?”

“She is close,” Prime sneered. “Closer than you suspect perhaps!”

Catra leaned close, voice low. “Adora, don’t let him bai-”

Too late. She-Ra charged forward with a cry of fury, swinging her sword in a wide arc; the shimmering sword froze mere inches from Prime’s marbled smirk, blade held in a white-gloved hand.

She-Ra hadn’t even noticed the hooded attendant move. One split-second they were standing with their fellows behind Prime’s throne; the next they stood between the Princess of Power and the Lord of Apokolips, grasping She-Ra’s sword by the translucent blade.

With slow deliberation, they drew back their white hood to reveal a pale face crowned with platinum-blond hair; a face Adora – or rather Despara - could hardly recall seeing without a raucous laugh or cheeky grin. Now it was cold, empty, and blank as her now glowing emerald eyes.

“Kara?”

The enslaved Supergirl responded with a punch that sent She-Ra arcing across the command platform. The Princess of Power skidded to the very edge, sinking her blade into the polished deck just in time to stop herself plunging into the pit below.

Catra, Tigress, Halo and Melog all raced to her side.

“Adora!?” Catra cried. “Are you-”

“I’m fine!” She-Ra rose to her feet only to stumble again. “I just… need a minute.”

“I don’t think we’re going to get a minute,” Halo said fearfully.

The two remaining attendants stepped forward to join the Supergirl, drawing back their own hoods to reveal the blank faces of Big Barda and…

“Mary?” Tigress hissed.

Prime rose from his throne, a predatory leer curling across his lips. “Graces of Apokolips… attack.”

*

“M’comm?”

M’gann took a wary step back from the Martian terrorist called ‘the Ma’alefa’ak’; also known as M’comm M’orzz; her brother.

<Really?> M’comm asked. <It’s been almost a whole Earth year and all I get is ‘M’comm’?>

The siblings circled each other slowly. M’gann placed herself between her brother and the still stunned Superboy. Over the past few years, her brother had proved himself every bit as vicious and bloodthirsty as the Martian predator he’d named himself for.

Something was wrong. M’gann should have instantly recognized her brother’s mind regardless of his outer form, like cubs from the same litter catching each other’s scent.

M’comm’s mind was normally a festering canker of pain, loneliness, and resentment; scabbed over by a lifetime of misdirected anger and bitter self-righteousness. But now when M’gann reached out to tentatively brush his thoughts, she felt nothing but cold stillness and the faint suggestion of distant whispers.

“M’comm, if you can still hear me in there, listen. You’ve been implanted with some kind of control chip, but we can free you.”

<But I am already free, sister,> M’comm’s thoughts were cool and colorless <Free from my petty prejudices and grievances, Free from the tyranny of individuality, the oppression of ‘free’ will. I finally understand, M’gann. G’arrunn, B'lahdenn, A'ashenn; such distinctions will be meaningless once my Lord brings M’arzz into His Light. Can you imagine it, sister? No more caste system, no more hate, no more pain; all shall be One in Prime!>

M’comm stepped forward. His spindle arms outstretched as though expecting his sister’s embrace, only for her to wordlessly recoil from his advances.

<I see… When He came to Durla, I too resisted. Blinded by pride, I had to be forced to accept His Light.> The air about M’comm once more crackled with psychic force. <As you must, sister.>

*

Prime’s three ‘Graces’ surged forward like a single silent entity. Big Barda brought her Mega-Rod down on Halo like a hammer upon the anvil. Only the young hero’s energy shield prevented them from being crushed beneath the New Goddess’ thundering strike. Across the chamber; Tigress wielded duel crossbows, loosing bolt after bolt in a desperate attempt to slow down Black – or rather, White Mary.

“Mary, you got to snap-” Tigress began, only for White Mary’s fingers to clamp about her throat after weaving through the hail of crossbow bolts with Mercurian speed.

That just left She-Ra and the Supergirl. Kryptonian fists rained blow after blow down upon the champion of Etheria, blows that would have reduced an ordinary mortal to pulp.

She-Ra barely parried another fist like steel with her shifting energy shield. “Please, Kara! I know this isn’t you!”

Before the Supergirl could strike again, Catra and Melog pounced, landing on the Girl of Steel’s back.

“She’s not gonna listen to sense, Adora!” Catra raised her claws to strike the white control-chip embedded deep in the back of the Kryptonian’s neck. “Take her down now, sort it out latURK!”

The Supergirl caught both Catra and Melog by the scruffs of their necks. For a brief moment, the Kryptonian’s lips curled in a cruel smirk – her only expression of emotion since the battle began – before hurling her prey across the chamber. The two felines landed with a sickening thud, crumpling into still limp lumps at the foot of Prime’s throne.

“CATRA!?!”

That was all it took, just a split-second of panic, for She-Ra to lower her guard. She caught a rapidly incoming Kryptonian fist in the corner of her eye; the black took her an instant later.

*

M’gann weaved and darted through the red spires of Ma'aleca'andra - capital city of M’arzz. Or rather, she weaved and darted through her memories of Ma'aleca'andra, evading emerald bolts of psychic lightning. One finally landed, sending her flying into a crimson tower. The entire cavern-city was torn to shreds as she impacted, falling away like a ripped matte painting.

She rolled across a carpeted floor, bolting upright to find herself standing in the old common room back at Mount Justice. Everything was as she remembered it, down to the pile of discarded Chicken Whizzie wrappers piled in one corner of the cave. She had to laugh. Wally was always kind of a slob.

No surprise that her subconscious would retreat here, the first place in all her life where she felt truly safe.

“Oh you’re not safe anywhere, sister.”

Another psy-bolt sent her crashing through the mental backdrop of Mount Justice and into the apartment she shared with Conner back in Happy Harbour.

“You always were noxiously sentimental,” M’comm ‘spoke’, stepping from a shadowy void.

He didn’t truly speak, of course. Even his psychic avatar lacked anything resembling lips or vocal chords; in this place, M’gann’s mind merely interpreted his words as aural stimuli.

“Give this up, M’comm!” M’gann drew herself upright, adopting a battle stance. Her amber eyes hardened. “You know you’ve never been strong enough to take me mind-to-mind, not alone.”

“Oh, but I’m not alone, sister…”

The darkness behind M’comm grew and deepened, greedily drinking all light and warmth into itself. M’gann thought she could see countless insectile green eyes gleaming in the black depths. No, only four eyes, the same four asymmetric eyes repeated again and again across her brother’s spreading shadow.

M’comm’s own eyes blazed white-green, unleashing a screeching psy-tempest beyond anything he’d ever demonstrated before. It was all M’gann could do just to summon a mental shield against the telepathic onslaught.

“I am but the lens for the power of a billion minds, united by a single will: HIS WILL!” M’comm poured ever more borrowed power into the maelstrom. His astral avatar began to blur at the edges, ash-white flesh bubbling and dissolving into pale mist.

“M’comm, you have to stop!” M’gann cried over the screaming psy-winds. “It’s killing you!”

“SO BE IT!” M’comm’s voice was ragged with agony and rapture. “NONE SHALL STAND IN THE PATH OF UNIVERSAL LIBERATION!”

That’s when M’gann realized the only way to save M’comm’s life, to sever his mind from Prime’s control, was to leave no mind left to control.

“I’m sorry.”

She unleashed a lance of pure psy-force that transfixed M’comm like a moth on a lepidopterist’s pin. The Ma’alefa’ak howled and writhed in animalistic pain as he – and everything else on this notional plane of existence – was consumed by psychic fire.

*

Adora’s eyes quivered open. For one brief merciful moment, her mind was utterly empty, unable to remember why she was lying on the cool polished surface. Then memory and horrid realization flooded her consciousness, panic surged. She tried to leap to her feet only to be yanked back by the steel manacles chaining her to the command platform.

A searing jolt of electricity raced through Adora’s body from the inhibitor collar clamped about her neck, just enough to light up every pain receptor in her body.

Adora bit back a cry as the agony ebbed to a dull ache, glancing about through bleary eyes. Catra, Tigress and Halo all lay in a semi-circle alongside her, similarly manacled and collared. Melog had been sealed in a sphere of viridian energy next to Catra; fey claws raked the inner surface of the sphere as they shifted from one shape to the next, desperately seeking some flaw in the field.

“Ah, good, you’re awake.”

Prime had deigned to descend from his throne to lord over his prizes. “I had feared my sweet Kara had been too exuberant with you. She does not quite know her own strength at times but then, she no longer knows much of anything.”

He ran a gilded talon along the cheek of the Kryptonian Grace, her emerald eyes gazing up at him with vacant adoration. The sight set off something in Adora, a wild angry dread.

“DON’T TOUCH HER!!!” Adora roared, pulling her chain taut before another jolt brought her back to her knees.

“I will do with her as I please; for she is Mine in body, mind and soul forever more; as you all soon shall be.” Prime leered, inspecting his prey. “And what a motley collection of trophies I have before Me? A fallen champion, a traitor…”

Catra’s blue/yellow eyes narrowed dangerously, a low growl building in the back her throat. Melog was nowhere near as controlled, hissing and snarling with undisguised hate as Prime paused before their prison sphere.

“And a Krytin?” Prime’s lips curled in distaste. “I had thought your aberrant kind wiped from the very memory of the universe. Fortunately, that oversight can be easily corrected.”

“You lay a finger on them; I’ll rip your throat out,” Catra spoke, soft as death.

Prime merely flashed her a wordless smirk, moving on to Tigress. “Ah, one of the infamous Earth ‘heroes’ who so vexed My late father and his pet savage. Still fighting with bows and arrows, I see?”

“It’s a crossbow, genius, and they’re called ‘bolts’.” Tigress smirked behind her striped mask. “You know, for an omniscient evil space god, you’re kinda ignoran-” She was brutally cut-off by Prime’s hand striking her across the face.

“You are the benighted spawn of a barbarous species, bred in filth and chaos!”

Prime caught himself. He inhaled deeply, smoothing back his frost-white hair. “But you know no better. So I shall forgive your thoughtless outburst this once, child. Take comfort knowing that once My affairs on Etheria are concluded, I shall turn My redeeming Light towards your long-suffering homeworld.”

Tigress hawked a glob of bloody spittle on the polished deck at Prime’s feet. “Touched a nerve,” she mouthed to herself.

“And at last, we come to the true prize…”

Prime’s leer came creeping back as he turned his attention to Halo, seizing them by the chin, forcing their head up as though inspecting a newly purchased thoroughbred.

“For millennia I believed the Anti-Life Equation was but a fable, that My father pursued a delusion; yet here you are, the final variable. Rejoice, child; for you shall be the Vessel through which I shall bring Final Peace to this universe.”

“I’ll die first,” Halo spat back.

“Your kind always say that.” Prime chuckled softly. “But in the end, like all the rest, you will prostrate yourself and worship Me before all others.”

Halo’s eyes went wide, gleaming with a horror that went far deeper than that of physical pain or death. “No… I… I won’t...”

“Leave them alone!” Adora bolted upright, as much as her chains would allow anyway. “I’m the one you want!”

Prime’s head snapped towards Adora, releasing Halo. “And I had such high hopes for you, My Despara.”

“That isn’t my name!”

“You are whoever – or whatever – I say you are,” spoke Prime. “Oh, I had such plans for you. You were to be the one leading this invasion, you know? Once it was over, and you stood over the charnel ash-heap that had been Etheria, I would have given you back your mind just long enough to fathom the depths of your betrayal. Alas, you will have to settle for watching Etheria die from a distance. Vundabar!”

“Herr Prime!” Vundabar saluted, snapping his black polished boot-heels together.

“Route the live feed from our ground forces to the main screen. I wish to… entertain our guests.”

“At once, Herr Prime!” Vundabar began tapping commands into his data-pad, popping a monocle as his brow creased. “Umm… mein Herr, perhaps we should wait before-”

“I gave you an order, Vundabar,” Prime intoned darkly. “And I do not repeat Myself.”

Vundabar gulped, clutching his pad close. “O-of course, Herr Prime.”

Prime turned towards the view-screen, ready to bask in his victory, only for his polished marble face to fall like a crashing skimmer.

*

WHISPERING WOODS

June 28, 17:26 UTC

The Parademons screeched like panicked crows as they were sucked up in a swirling wind funnel, before being deposited in a glowing blue net that was strung spider-like between the ancient trees of the Whispering Wood. They flailed haplessly like webbed flies, becoming more and more enmeshed.

Netossa paused to admire her handiwork, giving Spinwit a quick peck on the cheek. “That’s my boy.”

 *

SALINEAS

June 28, 17:26 UTC

Six amphibious figures clad in Apokoliptan war-plate screamed in terror as they were washed away by a surging wave like so much flotsam. Their leader had managed to crawl his way ashore before a flaming boat dropped on him.

*

FRIGHT ZONE

June 28, 17:26 UTC

The outer wastes shook as massive Apokoliptan Dragon-Tanks tumbled over onto the dusty ground, entangled in titanic cactus roots. The atomic fires that belched from their reptilian-cast prows gave a few last pitiful sputters before finally dying forever. Tank crews frantically abandoned their fallen war-machines, fleeing into the stony desert, harassed by bolts of crimson lightning.

*

THE IRON FIST

June 28, 17:28 UTC

All across the multifaceted view-screen, the same theme was repeated again and again; across Etheria, the legions of Apokolips were being routed by the Princess Alliance and their allies. Prime’s fist went straight through the viewscreen, shattering it into static shards.

How could this be happening? How could the Etherian degenerates possibly prevail over His Horde without their precious She-Ra? They were weak, they let their emotions guide them, they relied on others! Yes, that was it!

“YOU!?!” Prime turned on Vundabar like a feral wolf. The Apokoliptan General shriveled under his glare.

“H-Herr Prime- I can exURCK!!!” Vundabar squelched wetly as Prime seized him by the throat, yanking him bodily from the deck.

“This is all because of you! You and the rest of the comic-opera buffoons who called yourselves Apokolips’ ‘Elite’! I should have purged you all the moment I…”

Prime was cut short by a sound he had never thought to hear uttered by any throat but his own in this, his place of power; unabashed mocking laughter. Catra was doubled over in a fit of raucous hooting, tears of hilarity streaming down her cheeks.

Adora hissed low. “Catra, what are you doing?”

“What?! This is priceless!” Catra panted through peals of laughter. “The All-Powerful Horde Prime, Lord of Apokolips, is getting his ass kicked by a bunch of princesses… Again!” She shot Prime contemptuous sneer. “Loser.”

Prime glared back at her, his asymmetric eyes pits of acid hate, his whisper cold as the void. “You will lose far more than I this day.” He tossed a gasping Vundabar to the deck. “Signal all ships not needed to engage the Warworld, tell them to prepare for full orbital bombardment on My mark. We’ll begin with the major population centers.”

For a brief moment, Vundabar considered mentioning the Apokoliptan forces still deployed planetside but thought better of it. “Yuh-yes, Herr Prime,” he rasped hoarsely, reaching for his fallen pad.

“NO! YOU CAN’T!” Adora cried.

“I can do as I please, worm!” said Prime. “For I Am.”

After many long tense minutes, Vundabar finally spoke again. “The armada is almost in position, Mein Herr.”

“Then by My Word…” Prime raised his arms in self-exaltation. “In accordance with My Perfect and Unchanging Justice…”

Adora tried to cry out, to scream, to drown out the next and final word from Prime’s lips.

But before anyone could say anything, Vundabar’s pad suddenly began emitting a shrill high-pitched whine. He smacked the offending tech frantically.

“Mein Herr, someone is interfering with the shields! I’m reading a buildup of Zeta-”

A crackling green light erupted in the center of the throne room, ushering four new figures into the fray. Prime spun on his heels, face contorting in fury. “WHO DAR-” he began to bellow before being silenced by a shaggy hammer-like fist that sent him skidding across the deck.

Prime’s assailant barked a harsh wolf-laugh. “You never could take a punch, little brother!”

Adora gaped in shock at the shaggy trollish figure. “KALIBAK!?!”

“Oh good, you already know each other! That saves time!” Entrapta rapid fired as she and Wrong Hordak began undoing the prisoners’ bonds. “Anyway, Kalibak washed up on the shores of Beast Island about seven tide cycles ago, so we adopted him!”

Adora stared blankly. “Wut?”

Across the command deck, Kalibak cracked his knuckles, stomping towards his foe. “Father can’t protect you this time, bastard!”

“I never needed father’s protection from anything,” Prime wiped a trickle of emerald ichor from his lips. “Least of all, some unwanted mongrel!”

Kalibak charged forward with an enraged snarl, only to be tackled by the chipped Barda. The two Apokoliptan warriors began trading deck-shaking blows as Prime watched on.

“What marvelous sport?” Prime chuckled darkly, before being sent hurtling to the foot of his own throne by a blast of crimson energy. He glared through the smoky haze at his latest attacker, eyes narrowing to knife-like slits.

“Of course… I should have known you’d be skulking about somewhere.”

“On your feet, abomination!” Hordak snarled, the barrel of his arm-cannon still smoking as super-heated air hissed around it.

“You dare address your Creator with such disrespect?!”

“The dignity of dying on your feet is the only respect I have left for you, ‘Brother’.” Hordak spat that last word like a slur, gesturing with his arm-cannon. “Now up!”

“As you wish.” Prime drew himself to his full height. His eyes rolled back in his skull, leaving his expression vacant.

Hordak sneered. “That won’t work on me anymorRRGH!!!”

His arm-cannon was suddenly red-hot. He ripped it off as swiftly as he could, casting the scalding metal aside. The pale skin beneath was already blistering.

“How…?”

Above Hordak, hovered the Supergirl, her eyes burning a deep crimson. “It wasn’t meant to work on you, Little Brother,” she said, with Prime’s voice.

“BROTHER!?!” Kaliback reached for Hordak as he tried to fend off Barda, only to be blindsided by White Mary’s fist.

“We have to help Hordak and Kalibak!” Adora rubbed the feeling back into her wrists as the inhibitor collar and chains finally fell away. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

“It’s been a weird day for all of us,” remarked Tigress, loading a crossbow bolt. “Now get traught.”

Adora summoned her energy sword, shifting back into her She-Ra form as she charged the vacant Prime. He snapped back into his own body just in time to find She-Ra gripping his face, enveloping him in an aura of golden light, seeking to cast him back into the Void.

Prime cried out as the healing energy flowed through him, a cry that quickly broke into triumphant laughter.

“Wait, something’s-” She-Ra began, before the New God smote her to the deck with a marble fist.

“Blind fool! Did you really think you could exorcise Me from My native flesh?” Prime towered over the prone She-Ra, reinvigorated by her healing power. “When will you accept that there is no freedom from Me, only freedom through Me!?”

“Oh, we’re going through you, alright!” Tigress loosed an exploding bolt directly into Prime’s face, sending the New God staggering back as she reloaded. “Halo, time for Plan B!”

Halo took a deep breath, reaching deep into themself, praying they had the strength for what came next. Opening a Boom-Tube across the galaxy was one thing, opening one to a place that didn’t strictly exist was quite another. They focused their attention on the spot just beneath Prime’s feet, hoping to sweep him away in a single stroke. The pain built behind their eyes, swelling until they thought their skull would crack, swelling until…

BOOOOOM!!!

Halo fell to one knee, clutching their head. “Did… Did I do it?”

“Eeeh, not exactly, Rainbow,” Catra said, peering over the lip of the command platform, eyeing the indigo Boom-Tube that had just opened in the plunging pit below.

“Then we improvise,” Tigress said. “Halo, can you keep the Tube open?”

They nodded weakly. “I think so!”

“Then everyone else,” Tigress took aim. “Lay it on him!”

Prime staggered back under a barrage of exploding crossbow bolts, fey claws and whipping hair tendrils until he teetered on the very edge of the command platform; the indigo Boom-Tube gaped hungrily below.

The final blow fell to She-Ra, energy blade shifting into a weighty warhammer as she swung with all her might, sending the Lord of Apokolips reeling over the edge. For one blessed fraction of a second, relief flooded her mind; it was over. It was all finally over.

Then she felt the gilded talon bite into her ankle. The world around her lurched like a bed cover abruptly torn away. Suddenly, she was in freefall. Only by grasping the edge of the platform with all her strength had she saved herself from plummeting into the pit. The metal deformed under her fingers as she dangled one-handed from the precipice. Below her, Prime clung to her ankles with vicious tenacity. Below them both, the Boom-Tube yawned like the maw of some patient oceanic predator.

“ADORA!?” Catra cried as she, Tigress and Melog tried to haul She-Ra back up, only to be weighed down by the mass of the New God still clinging to her.

Prime tried to cast his mind into another vessel to no avail; something about She-Ra’s healing energy had only bound him tighter to this native flesh. His talons bit deeper into She-Ra’s calf. “I’m not going in there alone!”

Catra crouching as though to pounce. “You want company?! FINE!!”

“Catra, what are…?” She-Ra’s voice died as she watched Catra leap from the platform, plunging headfirst into the pit below.

Catra seemed to move through the air as though it was treacle, slowly sinking into the darkness. Time abruptly sped up again as she collided with Prime, becoming a hissing flurry of tooth and claw as she raked three of the New God’s eyes. Prime cried out in pain – or perhaps simple indignation – releasing his grip on She-Ra’s ankle.

She-Ra watched helplessly as Catra and Prime fell - clawing at each other - into the indigo vortex before it collapsed, swallowing them both, leaving only the black pit below. Her vision blurred as the tears began to pool in the corner of her eyes.

“Catra?”

*

Catra tumbled through the abyss. She clawed desperately for some kind of handhold, grasping only void. Her body tensed as she caught sight of something all too solid hurtling up to meet her. She hit the ground with a shuddering thud, rolling across a surface of what looked – and certainly felt – like rough-hewn quartz. She came to a halt at the very edge of the crystalline outcropping, overlooking a gaping purple abyss that plunged down into infinity.

She let out a small yelp as she scrabbled back from the precipice. She raised a hand to wipe her brow only to freeze at the sight of it; the hand was ghostly transparent, like frosted glass. Through it, she could see more quartz skerries drifting through the void, islets in a sea of nothing.

“Am… Am I dead?”

“You should be so fortunate.”

She heard his voice before she felt his fist; her vision flashed white, her skull rang with searing agony as she was sent reeling across the drifting skerrie. The specter of Horde Prime loomed over her, a towering wraith. His single remaining eye burned with cold malice.

“How fitting, ‘Little Sister’,” he sneered viciously. “That your story should end here, right where it began?”

DESPONDOS

---- --, --:-- ---

Chapter Text

Query: How does one chart a place that is not a place, a plane of existence utterly devoid of any fixed points of reference, or indeed any material reality?

Initial examination of the ‘Phantom Zone Projector’ acquired during my recent technological exchange with the Kryptonian Science Council has confirmed my original hypothesis: the Kryptonian ‘Phantom Zone’ does indeed correspond to the same shadow dimension encountered by various other mortal civilizations throughout the annals of galactic history; the A’thyr of ancient M’arzzian lore, the Timeless Void of the Pretherian ophidians, the Unspace of the mechanoids of Gorlam Prime.

Given the Zone’s nature, it is hardly surprising that the Kryptonians would use it as a means of sanctioning their most intractable malefactors. More curious is the Kryptonian’s insistence that the exile in the Zone serves as a ‘humane’ alternative to conventional incarceration or capital punishment.

Compared to the psychic trauma of being forcibly stripped of corporeal existence, all while remaining fully and acutely conscious, then being cast into a plane actively deleterious to sanity; many mortals might regard death as a mercy.

-From the scientific logs of Metron of New Genesis.

[-]

DESPONDOS

---- --, --:-- ---

Catra hit the floating crystalline islet with a shuddering thud; the rough pseudo-quartz scraped and stung her translucent skin. The grim wraith that was Horde Prime towered over her, a ghostly white silhouette against the black-purple void. The right side of his phantom face was a mass of open bloodless wounds, his remaining lone eye smoldering with icy hate.

“You have no concept of how fortunate you truly were, Little Sister,” Horde Prime taunted. “For a millennium, the magics of Etheria shielded you and the rest of your degenerate kind from the full depredations of this realm, a safe cocoon of time and materiality. But now you have no such protection, and a naked mortal soul is ill equipped to endure the ravages of eternity.”

“I’m not the one who’s going to need protection!” Catra pounced with flashing claws, only to pass through Prime’s transparent form like mist. “Wha-”

Prime sent her reeling with a casual backhand, his fist once more distressingly solid.

“Will is the only metric of power that matters here, child,” He stalked towards her like a predator about to make the kill. “And the Will of Prime is absolute!”

 [-]

THE IRON FIST

June 28, 17:43 UTC

The throne room of Prime’s flagship was - as a friend of Tigress might have said - a complete disaster zone, heavy on the dis. Kalibak was laid out unconscious on the polished command platform as Entrapta and the Hordaks tended to him. The son of Darkseid sprawled like an exhausted puppy, if said puppy was an eight-hundred-pound immortal alien berserker. Prime’s three ‘Graces’ - Mary, Barda and the so-called ‘Supergirl’ – stared blankly at nothing without the New God’s mind to guide them, like abandoned dolls.

<Artemis?>

<M’gann?> Tigress replied. <We lost the psy-link for a while; are you guys okay?>

<We’re fine, just ran into… unexpected resistance,> Miss Martian answered. <Cyborg’s in the server room crashing the Horde Hive-Mind. Superboy and Glimmer took a glancing psy-blast, but they should be fine in an hour or two. Terra’s helping with the clean-up.>

<A psy-blast?>

<It’s… a long story; I’ll tell you all about it when we get back to Darla.>

Tigress could feel M’gann’s mental walls going up, but she didn’t have time to press the issue; she had a more immediate problem.

“We have to go after Catra!” She-Ra cried

The Princess of Power was distraught, not that Tigress blamed her. If the love of her life had just taken a dive into a Boom-Tube to the Phantom Zone while tackling a genocidal space-fascist, she’d be Hell of a long way from trought too.

“We will, Adora,” Tigress said. “But Halo’s completely wiped, we need to get them to-”

“No!” Halo stood straight but unsteadily on their feet, one hand on a shoulder high Melog for balance. “We can’t leave Catra with that monster a moment longer.”

“Vi, are you sure you’re up to this?” Tigress asked warily.

Halo nodded wordlessly, their brown eyes steely and determined. Tigress couldn’t help but be proud, even through all the worry for what Halo was about to put themselves through.

Ever since their first mission to Etheria over a month ago, Violet and Catra had managed to strike up an unlikely friendship. Artemis couldn’t help taking a shine the feline Etherian too; something about a young cat-themed heroine with parental issues and a whole plank of wood on her shoulder spoke to her.

“Alright, but you better power down, Adora,” Tigress said, all business again. “No telling how the Phantom Zone will mess with your She-Ra powers.”

She-Ra did as instructed, reverting to Adora. Meanwhile Tigress unhooked a long length of monofilament wire attached to a spool on her belt, a variation on ye old bat-rope. She hooked one end to Adora’s own belt while anchoring the other to Prime’s throne.

“Give two tugs and we’ll pull you back,” said Tigress.

Adora nodded. “Got it.”

“Remember, Halo can’t keep the Boom-Tube open forever. If it looks like it’s about to collapse, I’m pulling you out… with or without Catra.”

Adora’s expression was iron. “I understand.”

Tigress gave Halo the nod. The young hero steeled themself, indigo aura flickering about them like sparks trying to kindle a fire. And then…

BOOOOOM!!!

[-]

DESPONDOS

---- --, --:-- ---

Catra couldn’t breathe, which had less to do with the total absence of air in the Zone and more with Prime’s transparent yet all too heavy boot pressing down on her ribcage. She trashed and clawed futilely, pinned to the quartz skerry as much by the sheer force of his will as any physical weight.

“I do so look forward to watching your mind shrivel in upon itself over the coming centuries, Catra” Prime gloated, exceedingly pleased with himself. “I wonder how long before the Sickness that pervades this realm leaves you a broken murmuring husk? A terrible thing, to be betrayed by one’s own mind.”

“Hey, genius,” Catra gasped through gritted teeth. “You’re stuck in here too!”

“For now, perhaps. But my disciples will come for me, inevitably. It may take a century, a millennium, but I can afford to wait. What is time to a Go-?” He was cut off by a mocking, wheezing laugh from the prone Catra. He gazed down at his prey with disdain. “And what pray tell is so amusing?”

“You…” Catra wheezed through a twisted grin. “You seriously think anyone is coming for you?! I know your type, Prime. If anyone ever really cared about you, you used them up and tossed them away a long time ago. All that’s left are a buncha mind-chipped drones and toadies who’ll never stick their own necks out for you. You’re a parasite, ‘Big Bro’. And now for the first time in forever, you got nobody to leech off. So c’mon then,” She barked another shallow bitter laugh. “Let’s see who breaks first!?”

“Yes…” Prime hissed viciously after a long tense moment. “Let’s.”

Catra gasped as the pressure on her ribcage slowly begin to increase, edging closer to the breaking point until…

BOOOOOM!!!

Prime’s head cocked upward, momentarily surprised by the swirling indigo vortex in the upper void, his concentration broken for the most fleeting of moments.

That was all Catra needed. Her claws dug deep into the translucent flesh of Prime’s ankle, severing tendons and eliciting howls of pain as the New God staggered back. With a single blur of motion, Catra back-flipped onto all fours, every muscle taut as a coiled spring.

“CATRA!?!”

Catra risked a glance back. Adora floated through the void like a diving angel, tied back to reality by a slender silver cord. Her hand was outstretched, her eyes pleading.

Catra was off with a running start, a snarling Prime lurching after her. She leaped from the edge of the quartz skerry, breaking the bonds of its ephemeral gravity like cobwebs. She reached for Adora as she catapulted through unspace.

Prime had said that only ‘Will’ mattered here, Catra recalled. If that was true then she had to want this, want it more than anything in her life, want it with everything she had. She had to push every other thought and doubt aside, focus on nothing but Adora.

It doesn't matter what they do to us, you know? You look out for me, and I look out for you. Nothing really bad can happen as long as we have each other.

You Promise?

Hey. I miss you, too.

Wha-? I don't miss you. Get over yourself!

Not until you admit you like me!

Don't you get it? I love you! I always have! So please, just this once, stay!

“Gotcha!” Adora cried, clasping Catra’s hand, pulling her into a tight embrace. “So uh… hang out here often?”

Catra snickered, nipping Adora’s cheek. “You’re such a dork.”

With her free hand, Adora gave two sharp yanks to the silver monofilament; the gleaming line began to immediately contract, drawing them back to the universe of light and materiality.

Below, three-quarters blind and hobbled, Horde Prime stood at the very edge of the crystalline skerry. He seethed silently as his enemies crossed the threshold of the distant indigo Boom-Tube, before it collapsed forever, leaving him alone in a cold empty void.

“That’s it! Flee, you degenerate cowards! Flee Prime’s righteous wrath, for all the good it will do you! Do you hear Me, She-Ra!? Prime shall rise again!” He was shrieking now, trembling with apoplectic fury. “And when I do, I shall bring a cleansing fire such as the universe has never…”

A strange intuition suddenly seized Prime, a cold certainty that defied all his reason: He was no longer alone.

He turned slowly. The figure was only a few feet behind him, not a translucent specter but as seemingly solid as any flesh. It was slender with grey skin like soft leather. It stood back to Prime, stripped from the waist up. Down its bare back ran twin jagged wounds, open sores seeping dark green ichor.

“By the Pit…” All Prime’s pride and arrogance had suddenly deserted him. Even before the figure turned, he knew exactly whose face would confront him.

“Anillus?”

The blank eyed ghoul made no sound as it stepped towards Prime. Not simply Anillus Kur, but Hec-Tor, Seferus, the gaunt Sorceress of Horokoth and all the winged folk of that nameless cavern world stalked inexorably closer.

“S-stay back, I command you!” Prime stepped backward, hand raised imperiously. “I am still your Go-”

The edge of the skerry gave way under his armored boot, sending him plunging into the abyss. So, Horde Prime – Emperor of the Known Universe and Lord of Apokolips – tumbled screaming through nothingness, harried by the shrieking shades of a murdered world.

[-]

THE IRON FIST

June 28, 17:52 UTC

Adora and Catra clung tightly to each other as they rolled across the command platform, coming to a halt at the foot of Prime’s empty throne. As Halo’s Boom-Tube collapsed behind them, as did Halo themself. Tigress and Melog caught the fainting hero before they could hit the ground.

“Easy, Vi,” Tigress whispered. “Ya did good, kid.”

“Are they okay?” Catra asked, panting worriedly.

“They’re fine, just wiped,” answered Tigress. “Nothing a quick rehydrate, plenty of protein and a solid eight hours won’t fix.”

The lights of the throne room momentarily dimmed before resetting.

<Alpha squad?> Tigress inquired over the psy-link.

<No need to panic, Beta,> Cyborg replied, his thoughts cool and confident. <We just crashed the Horde Hive-Mind.>

“Then its over,” said Adora breathlessly. She cupped Catra’s cheeks as they help each other to their feet, staring into her love’s glittering sapphire/gold eyes. “We finally won!”

 [-]

THE WARWORLD

June 28, 17:53 UTC

“Reading multiple outgoing Boom-Tubes across Etheria’s orbit,” Cassandra reported, confirming what the Warworld’s sensors had already told her father. “The Horde fleet is withdrawing; we’ve won.”

“Craven as well as treacherous,” Desaad rasped scornfully. “I should have expected no better from Vundabar’s tin toy soldiers.”

Vandal ignored the God of Torment. “And the Iron Fist?”

“Unresponsive,” Cassandra answered.

“What about her shields?” Desaad’s voice had a predatory edge.

Cassandra hesitated, looking to her father. He nodded.

“Off-line,” she answered.

“Weapons?”

“Also off-line.”

Dessad’s bloodlust was inflamed by the thought of prey that could neither defend itself nor retaliate. “Then we should blast it out of the skies while we still have the chance!”

“The Team and their Etherian allies are still aboard,” Cassandra said, her tone carefully level. “And we are under truce with them.”

“A truce I entered into in good faith, Desaad,” Vandal intoned, his voice equally level.

“Please, Savage, don’t start pretending you’re above stabbing an ally of convenience in the back now.” Desaad allowed himself a wet chortle before his voice went deathly serious. “Unless… you value your compact with the Earth whelps over that with Apokolips?”

Cassandra rounded on the Apokoliptan. “You will not address Vandal Savage with that tone on his own-”

Vandal flashed his daughter a warning glare. “Cassandra!”

Her head bowed contritely. “I- Forgive me, Father.”

Desaad leered with smug self-satisfaction.

Vandal rose from his command throne, the Warworld’s vast arsenal once more thrumming to life as he brought all his considerable will to bear on the listing Horde flagship.

[-]

THE IRON FIST

June 28, 17:56 UTC

This time when the lights flickered, they never came back. The throne room was plunged into a blood-wash of emergency lighting as the entire ship lurched to one side under a teeth-shuddering impact.

<Alpha, what’s happening!?> Tigress demanded.

<Not sure!> Cyborg replied urgently. <External sensor are scrambled! I may have triggered somekinda booby-trap!>

<Figure it out later! Everyone get out no-> Tigress’ concentration was broken by another juddering impact, causing one of the pseudo-organic pylons arching over the command platform to come loose.

“Look out!” Adora managed to shove Catra aside just as the pylon came collapsing down on them, but not in time to save herself.

“ADORA?!” Catra spun on her bare heels to find the love of her life pinned beneath the broken wreckage of the fallen pylon. She fell to her knees by the fallen girl’s side. “Adora? Adora, say something?!”

“Cah… Catra…?” Adora’s voice was weak, her gaze unfocused. Something black and sticky in the red emergency light trickled down the side of her head, matting her dirty blond hair.

“She must be concussed,” Tigress muttered, kneeling to examine the fallen Etherian. “Adora, listen to me: you have to stay awake! Do you understand? You have to stay awake!”

“We need to get her out of here!” Catra cried, her plea punctuated by the rumbling of distant explosions.

Halo and Kalibak were still out. Hordak might normally have been able to lift the debris, but his exo-frame had been badly damaged in the battle; now he could barely lift himself. And Beta Squad was still on the other side of the ship.

“Cahtra… iss okay,” Adora slurred, slipping her hand into Catra’s. “Go… I’ll be fine…”

Another lurch of the ship.

“Catra, I don’t know how long we can stay here…” Tigress trailed off.

“Then go,” Catra pressed Adora’s hand tight to her lips, eyes downcast. “I’m staying.”

“Yeesh, you guys are so melodramatic,” a new voice spoke as the wrecked pylon miraculously began to shift and rise.

A dumbfounded Catra and Tigress gazed up as Kara held aloft one end of the ruined Pylon, flashing a brazen grin. Beneath the other end of the pylon stood Big Barda, muscles tensing as she shifted the debris over her head.

“Get her clear!” Barda barked.

“R-right!” Catra instantly snapped back into reality; she and Tigress dragged Adora clear before the two Furies tossed the wreckage over the lip of the command platform and into the pit below.

“Where’s Black Mary?” Barda asked.

Kara scanned the throne room with x-ray and infra-red vision, finding no sign of her erstwhile teammate, or General Vundabar for that matter. “Typical.”

“Never mind that,” snapped Tigress, as she and Catra braced Adora between them. “Someone grab Halo!”

“Got them!” Barda said, carrying the unconscious human-Motherbox hybrid.

“WAIT!” Entrapta squealed, helping Wrong Hordak support Right Hordak with her prehensile tresses. “We have to help Kalibak!”

“Do we really tho?” Kara drawled.

“Kaara!” Adora chided groggily.

“Uggh, fine!” Kara groaned, casually slinging the unconscious Apokoliptan over her shoulders like a sack of potatoes. “Now can we go?”

[-]

Warning klaxons blared throughout the spiraling red-lit corridors of the Iron Fist as it shook again. The occasional Parademon loped frantically through the halls or clawed desperately at the bulkheads, seeking any escape. Without the guidance of their new master’s voice, they had reverted to pure animal panic.

A tawdry lack of discipline, thought Virman Vundabar. He crouched in a shadowed alcove amid the chaos, working a small panel with seams so fine they were virtually invisible. The general had helped oversee the construction of Herr Prime’s new flagship; naturally he’d installed a few ‘contingencies’ of his own.

The panel finally came loose with a soft hiss. Vundabar reached into the black abscess, retrieving a sleek grey Fatherbox. “Ah, guten abend, mein freund.”

Ting!

“No backtalk!” Vundabar snapped, addressing the living computer. “I am an officer and a gentleman and will not stand for insubordination! You should be grateful I came back for you at all!”

Ting!

“That’s better.” Vundabar smiled smugly, adjusting his monocle. “Now, I believe the time has come to execute an orderly tactical withdrawal.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Black Mary spoke from behind him. The startled Vundabar didn’t even have time to turn a complete one-eighty before she socked him across the jaw.

Mary snatched Fatherbox out of mid-fall with Mercurian speed, faster than gravity. “Get me out of here, NOW!”

BOOOOOM!!!

Mary was about to step into the fiery vortex when she glanced down at the unconscious Vundabar. One thing she’d picked up in the last year: Apokoliptans weren’t nearly as indestructible as they’d have mere ‘mortals’ believe. Vundabar would likely be reduced to cosmic dust once the ship blew.

She groaned with distaste, heaving the general by his collar like a sleeping puppy. “You owe me, Vundabar,” she hissed before tossing him through the Boom-Tube like a ragdoll. She was about to follow when a familiar voice stopped her short.

“Mary!”

The Fury turned to find Miss Martian staring at her. The Martian’s amber eyes were soft with the usual judgmental condescension she somehow thought came across as sisterly concern. Behind Morse’s right shoulder, Terra and Cyborg were supporting a groggy Glimmer and Superboy respectively. Over her left, a spindly white Martian floated unconscious in a telekinetic grip.

Mary snorted. “Well, looks like someone had a wild night?”

“It’s not too late, Mary,” M’gann said. “We’re not giving up on you.”

Mary’s eyes narrowed coldly as she turned back to the Boom-Tube. “You gave up on me a long time ago, Morse.”

A moment later the Boom-Tube was gone, taking the woman who had been Mary Bromfield with it.

[-]

DARLA

June 28, 18:08 UTC

Bow was still trying to get Darla’s sensors back online when Alpha Squad came staggering onto the bridge. Or at least, Miss Martian, Cyborg and Terra did.

“Where’s Glimmer?!” Bow asked worriedly before adding “And Superboy?”

“They’re fine, Bow,” answered Miss Martian. “Just resting in the infirmary.”

Bow was about to leap out of his chair when Miss Martian stopped him short.

“No, Bow, we need you ready to go the moment Beta-”

Tigress, came dashing onto the bridge that very moment, followed by Supergirl and Big Barda.

“Furies!?” Miss Martian cried as she, Terra and Cyborg instantly shifted into a battle stance. The former Furies instantly reciprocated.

“Whoa!” Tigress stepped between the two parties, raising her hands placatingly. “It’s cool! They’re cool!”

“Tigress?!” Miss Martian blurted. “Where’s the rest of Beta? And what are they doing here?”

“In reverse order: long story; in the infirmary, which is frankly getting kinda crowded. Was that your brother down there?”

“Long story. We need to get out befo-”

The small ship began to tremble as though being slowly shook apart.

Bow immediately leaped back into the command chair, fingers almost blurring as they danced across the holo-interface. “Releasing docking clamps! Brace for launch in five…”

[-]

“Four…” Bow’s voice echoed over the intercom.

Catra and Melog held Adora upright in the shaking ship’s infirmary, pressing an ice-pack to the back of her head. Glimmer, Halo, Superboy, Kalibak, and a spindly ash-white creature lay on what few beds could be found in the tightly packed chamber, tended by Entrapta and the Hordaks.

“Three…”

Catra held tight to the barely conscious Adora.

“Two…”

Another lurch of the ship, more violent than any before, and everything went dark.

[-]

THE WARWORLD

June 28, 18:11 UTC

Vandal watched as the Iron Fist’s Radion reactor finally went critical, consuming the Horde flagship - and every living thing left aboard - in a silent bloom of blue-white flame. The cosmic fire blazed for only a few scant seconds before being consumed by the eternally hungering vacuum of space, leaving only void and semi-molten slag.

Cassandra consulted her pad. “Horde flagship destroyed, no bio-signs detected in the debris.”

“Obviously,” Desaad drawled. “Though I am curious, Savage: the Warworld’s Grand Laser could have destroyed Prime’s vessel with a single shot; why use your missiles to trigger a delayed reaction instead?”

“At this range, the Grand Laser would have likely devastated Etheria,” Vandal regarded the pink-green globe that stretched out below him like a shimmering tapestry. “And we may still find a use for this world.”

Desaad snorted derisively. “You hoard mortal lives like a miser.”

“Perhaps, but since when have you ever been one for a quick kill, Desaad?”

The God of Torment chuckled hatefully. “Point taken.”

Vandal sighed wearily, removing the control-crown from his brow. “Cassandra, take us out of orbit and lay in a course for Apokolips. I will be attending to our other guest.”

 [-]

BRIGHT MOON

July 04, 19:52 UTC

The day moons were just beginning to set, turning the rosy pink skies a dusky purple. Below them, the blue-green canopy of the Whispering Woods murmured dreamily, true to their name. Between forest and firmament, a giant floating tree drifted across the sky, the youngest of the ancient world’s many satellites.

Adora leaned over her balcony at Castle Bright Moon, soaking in the view. So much had changed since she last stood here; so much had changed her. And that scared her.

Bright Moon was – like herself – healing but not yet whole. Much of the ancient edifice was still under repair after Prime’s invasion. Adora and her friends had returned to find the castle ransacked. The occupying Parademons had despoiled everything of value they could find. Relics and tapestries - preserved since before the coming of the First Ones - had been reduced to broken shards and tattered shreds.

The royal library hadn’t been spared either. Countless scrolls, parchments and tomes had been piled in the castle courtyard and put to the flame. Centuries of art and history had been destroyed in a few moments of malice. Adora wondered how much of had been mere instinct on the Parademons’ part, and how much had been Prime’s own overriding spite whispering in their minds.

With Prime lost in Despondos and the Hive-Mind crashed, the Apokoliptan Horde had fallen into complete chaos. Those forces which hadn’t managed to Boom-Tube off-world had fled into the dark desolate places of Etheria. Licking wounds and nursing grudges, Adora didn’t doubt. She wondered if Etheria would ever be the same again.

Adora touched the bandages wrapped around her cranium. The healers from Mystacor did good work. Halo had offered to heal it themself of course, but Tigress had put her foot down. After what happened on the Iron Fist, the leader of the Earth heroes had pointblank forbidden Halo to use their powers until they’d had a few days to fully rest.

There was a soft rap on the door.

“Come in.”

Catra slipped quietly into the bedchamber, Melog padding along behind. “Hey, Adora.”

“Hey,” Adora replied, sitting on the edge of the bed, beckoning Catra to join her.

Catra did so, resting a head on Adora’s shoulder. “Big Earthling Goodbye Party’s about to start.”

“Cool,” Adora spoke with a certain lassitude.

“We don’t have to go, if you don’t want to? We could just stay here and…”

“No, I need this. I’m starting to go crazy pent up in here,” Adora slipped an arm around Catra’s waist. “What about you; you still want to go through with this?”

They’d spent the last day or two discussing Catra’s plans for the future. Adora had been dismayed at first but the more she thought about it, the more she realized Catra needed this. She deserved her chance to be more than just an ex-Horde Force Captain or She-Ra’s girlfriend.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Catra answered. “But I can wait until your-”

“No, that’ll only make it harder,” Adora sighed, stroking Catra’s cheek. “And I am so proud of you.”

They leaned close, close enough to feel each other’s lips brushing their cheeks.

“Come on,” Adora finally rose from the bed. “We better be going.”

Catra reached for the satchel, still hanging from her belt after all this time. Her heartbeat raced. Should she ask the question she’d wanted ask almost two months ago? “Adora?”

Adora paused, framed in the light of the doorway. “Yes?”

No, not now, not yet. That wouldn’t be fair. “Nevermind.”

[-]

Bright Moon had risen.

Music and laughter rang throughout the castle’s courtyard. Prismatic fireworks rose to join the stars above. Representatives from almost all of Etheria’s many and far flung kingdoms had arrived to wish the heroes of Earth well wishes and safe travels. All of them had lost something over the last few days; none thought the rebuilding would be easy but for tonight, they celebrated.

“So you’re a Rock Princess?!” asked the dark-skinned princess clad in blue and silver called Netossa. “That’s pretty neat.”

“Now that I think about it, it’s kinda weird we don’t have one of those?” Spintwit mused thoughtfully, arm in arm with Netossa.

“Ehh, the rock thing and the princess thing aren’t really related.” Terra shrugged, scarfing down another slice of bright-blue cake.

Tigress and Superboy were chatting with Glimmer and Bow at the next table over. Superboy was happily chowing down on a bowl of squirming grey cubes.

“What you call this again?”

“Spoo,” Glimmer answered, somehow losing her own appetite. She wasn’t sure how that barrel had got into the palace larder in the first place.

Superboy munched another cube approvingly. “It’s great!”

“Why don’t you take the whole barrel!?” Glimmer suggested, a little more forcefully than she had intended.

“Seriously?” Superboy practically beamed. “Thanks, M’gann will love that!”

“Ah, the wonders of a half-Kryptonian digestive system,” chuckled Tigress.

“Where is Miss Martian?” Bow asked.

Superboy’s face fell slightly. “She’s down in one of the guest rooms.”

“Prison cell,” corrected Glimmer.

“Riiight. Anyway, she’s down there… checking on M’comm.”

[-]

M’gann had been in more than her share of prison cells over the last eleven years, but never one to include a four-poster bed, vanity table and indoor fountain. She wished any of that made this easier. Conner had offered to come with her of course, but M’gann knew that wouldn’t be fair.

Her brother wouldn’t want anyone else to see him like this.

M’comm M’orzz sat cross-legged on the plushly carpeted floor, playing with a set of handmade figurines depicting the heroes of Etheria. He moved them in slow deliberate circles, like a silent dance.

M’gann reached out with her mind. <How are you feeling, M’comm?>

<?>

Inquisitive, confused. Like a Martian infant, M’comm’s telepathy was limited to flashes of mood and instinct. It would be a long while before he could communicate in more complex thought-forms again.

With patience and care, M’gann was relatively confident she could eventually reconstruct M’comm’s psyche, restore him to what he once was. Which left only one question…

Should she?

[-]

“Are you sure you’re able to Boom-Tube?” Halo asked Cyborg. “Because I can still-”

“Seriously, Vi, I’m fine,” Cyborg tapped the side of his metal skull. “I already had Bow and Entrapta double-check my self-diagnostic to make sure interfacing with the Horde’s systems didn’t leave any nasty surprises.”

Halo was about to protest when Tigress placed a hand on their shoulder. “Listen to the man, Vi, just enjoy the free ride back to Earth. Right, Conner? Conner?”

Superboy was glaring daggers at Kalibak from across the courtyard. The Son of Darkseid was currently sharing a plate of tiny sausages with Entrapta and the Hordaks, smiling for all the world like a great big harmless teddy bear.

“Are we seriously okay with this?” Superboy demanded hotly.

“That’s just how they do things here,” Tigress shrugged. “And trying to take Kalibak in might just create more problems than it solves at this point.”

“So that’s it? One of Darkseid’s most brutal enforcers gets to have a happy ever after ‘cuz he what, discovered the power of friendship?!”

“Believe me, Conner, I hear you. But maybe instead of getting worked up over things we can’t change, we should focus on the things we can.” Tigress gestured to another table across the courtyard, where two figures in the uniforms of Apokoliptan Furies were deep in conversation.

Big Barda piled another thick meat cutlet on her plate. “What did you call this gathering again?”

Kara dangled her legs over the edge of the table. “A party?”

“Par-tay?” Barda rolled the word over her tongue, savoring the taste of it.

“So whatcha going to do now?”

Barda thought for a moment. “A long time ago, there was someone who tried to make me see Granny Goodness and Darkseid for the monsters they were. I think I own him an apology. You could come with me, if you like?”

Kara fell into a sullen silence, broken by a polite cough. She looked up to meet the older boy’s eyes. She’d occasionally caught sight of him around the castle of course, but this was the first time he’d actually approached her. He seemed painfully uncomfortable.

“Um hey… Kara isn’t it?” Superboy asked.

“Yeah,” she answered laconically.

“My name is Kon, Kon-El; I think we might be related?”

He looked so much like uncle Jor-El, and by extension Kara’s own father. The two brothers had been so much alike they could have been twins. Kara glared at the scarlet crest emblazoned on his black t-shirt. “Ya ‘think’?”

Superboy was still trying to put together a response when Kara abruptly brushed past him.

“Dez! I mean, ‘Dora!” She trilled, throwing her arms around Adora and lifting her bodily from the ground.

“Kuh-Kara!” Adora gasped, locked in a Kryptonian bear-hug. “Buh-breathing!”

“Oh, Sorry!” Kara carefully placed Adora back on the ground.

At Adora’s side, Catra tried to repress a snicker as Melog chastised her with a gentle head-nudge to the posterior.

Tigress sidled up to Catra. “So, you all packed yet?”

“Packed?” Glimmer asked, a puzzled looking Bow by her side. “Packed for what?”

“Wait, you didn’t tell them?” Adora asked, suddenly wrong-footed.

Catra groaned. “I was putting it off ‘cuz I knew they’d get all weepy and huggy about it.”

Bow frowned with concern. “Weepy and huggy about what?”

Glimmer’s eyes suddenly went wide as she shook Catra by the shoulder. “OHMIGOSH! Are you dying!?”

“What!? No, I’m not dying!” Catra snapped indignantly, disentangling herself.

“Then what?”

Catra took a moment to compose herself, exhaling a long deep sigh. “I’m going back to Earth with Violet and Artemis,” she finally admitted. “I’m joining the Team.”

Glimmer and Bow’s blurted response came in unison.

“WHAT!?”

 [-]

WHISPERING WOODS

July 04, 23:52 UTC

They gathered at the edge of the woods under the silent stars, the heroes of two worlds. On one side stood Tigress, Miss Martian, Superboy, Halo, Cyborg and Terra: along with a sullen Supergirl, an impassive Barda, and an unresponsive M’comm. Opposite the Earthlings stood Adora, Glimmer and Bow. Between the two groups, Catra waited, Melog by her side and a heavy duffle bag slung over her shoulder.

“You sure this is what you want?” Tigress asked.

“I’m sure.” Catra hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.

“You realize, of course, you’re going to have to do a lot to earn our trust after the stunts you pulled?”

Story of my life, thought Catra. “I understand.”

“Guess today’s a new start for a lot of us,” said Superboy, turning to Supergirl. “Right, Kara?”

“I’m not going back to Earth,” Kara said curtly.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t even know you, why in Rao’s names should I go anywhere with you?”

“Because we’re family?!”

“Oh, and exactly how are we related again?”

Superboy stumbled. “I… It’s complicated, okay.”

“Yeah, well this isn’t,” Kara strode across the divide to stand beside a suddenly awkward Adora. “I’m staying here!”

“You’re a child!” Superboy started to lose his cool. “You’re not capable of making that kind of-”

<Conner, don’t!> M’gann psychically cut him off.

<But M’gann, we can’t just leave her here?>

<Kara’s already had two worlds ripped out from under her, and Adora’s the only shred of continuity she has left to cling to. If we try to take that away, she will never trust us.>

“Alright…” Conner exhaled deeply. “If that’s what you want.”

Adora placed a protective hand on Kara’s shoulders. “We’ll take care of her, I promise.”

Superboy shot her a warning look. “You better.”

Big Barda stepped forward, offering Adora and Kara a stiff salute. “It’s been an honor, Cadets. Glory to your names, and swift death to your enemies.”

“Uh, thanks, Captain Barda,” Adora saluted back, trying to take the well wishes in the spirit they were intended. “Umm… you too?”

Tigress extended a hand. “Adora, Glimmer, Bow, it’s been real.”

Adora took the proffered hand gratefully. “Likewise and thanks, for everything.”

“And sorry for kinda going behind your back and launching a desperate commando raid on Apokolips without telling you,” Bow added sheepishly.

Tigress smirked. “I suppose that’s just Karma. And I’m sorry we treated you guys like sidekicks and didn’t keep you in more the loop. I guess after over a decade of playing constant chess games with Vandal Savage and the Light, we still have some trust issues to work through.”

Glimmer frowned. “Should we be worried about him?”

“Now that Etheria’s on his radar; most definitely.”

[-]

APOKOLIPS

July 05, 00:00 UTC

It would be impolitic to say the reign of Horde Prime, Lord of Apokolips, had ended. Indeed, it would be downright suicidal to allude to it ever having occurred at all. Already, official histories were being redacted to erase all reference to Prime, Grayven, or his ill-conceived coup. Soon, it would be as though the third Son of Darkseid had never existed.

The mass of Hunger Dogs, herded into the great square of Armagetto by snarling Parademons, understood this. They knew well that history, truth, reality itself was unmade and remade with every new edict from on High. And woe betide any who dare contradict the divinely ordained Truth.

Truth now stood before them, overlooking the seething sea of life from a high balcony, His granite fist raised to the ochre smog-choked skies above.

Lᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ʜᴏᴡʟ ɪɴ ᴅᴇsᴘᴀɪʀ, ғᴏʀ I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ!

The Voice of Darkseid rolled over the dagger-spires and gutter-valleys of Armagetto like a crashing wave, drowning the will of all who heard it. The retching wailing mass of Hunger Dogs below instantly fell to their knees, prostrating themselves before the Once, Future and Eternal Lord of Apokolips.

Tʜᴏsᴇ ʟᴇᴅ ᴀsᴛʀᴀʏ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴄᴇɪᴛs ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ Eɴᴇᴍʏ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴘᴀʏ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴀᴘᴏsᴛᴀsʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛᴏʀᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴜɴᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ! Tʜᴏsᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ғᴀɪᴛʜғᴜʟ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ɢʀᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏɴᴏʀ ᴏғ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴇᴛ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛᴇʀ sᴀᴄʀɪғɪᴄᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʟᴏʀʏ ᴏғ Dᴀʀᴋsᴇɪᴅ! Rᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴛʜɪs ʟᴇssᴏɴ ᴡᴇʟʟ: ғᴇᴀʀ Mᴇ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀs! Fᴏʀ I ᴀᴍ ᴛʜᴇ Rᴇᴠᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ! Tʜᴇ Tɪɢᴇʀ-Fᴏʀᴄᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʀᴇ ᴏғ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜɪɴɢs! Dᴀʀᴋsᴇɪᴅ ᴡᴀs, Dᴀʀᴋsᴇɪᴅ ɪs ᴀɴᴅ Dᴀʀᴋsᴇɪᴅ sʜᴀʟʟ ᴇᴠᴇʀ Bᴇ!

DARKSEID IS!

DARKSEID IS!

DARKSEID IS!

The figure took a moment to bask in the adulation of the chanting masses. Granite lips curled in an uncharacteristically sly smile, as though at some private joke, before withdrawing into the all concealing shadows of the Divine Palace’s interior. Once hidden from the eyes of the Hunger Dogs, ‘Darkseid’ couldn’t resist giving an overdramatic twirl as their form was enshrouded by glittering shadow.

“TA-DA!” Double Trouble trilled, taking a proud exaggerated bow. “So… How did I do?”

“Frankly, I thought you overplayed your part,” Desaad said icily.

Double Trouble pouted sulkily. “Hmph, everyone’s a critic.”

“Perhaps…” Vandal Savage stepped from the shadows. “But the Hunger Dogs seem to have found your performance convincing enough. As far as anyone outside this room is concerned, Darkseid’s reign shall continue uninterrupted.”

“I suppose that’s all that matters in the end.” Desaad extended a hand to Savage. “Business as usual then?”

Savage’s own hands remained firmly clasped behind his back as he eyed Desaad coldly. “Not exactly.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Double Trouble and I have come to an understanding.” Savage shot the changeling a slight conspiratorial smile. “If you wish to retain their services, you’ll have to go through me. And I believe it is well past time my original Pact with Apokolips was… renegotiated.”

Desaad’s laugh was short and sharp in response. “And what’s to stop me going to Durla and simply finding another shapeshifter to replace the Ma'alefa'ak?”

“Nothing, I suppose,” Savage conceded, before lowering his voice to a wolfish growl. “Just as nothing prevents ‘Darkseid’ from marching back onto that balcony and revealing themself to all of Apokolips.”

“Oooh, I can’t resist a curtain call,” Double Trouble trilled, draping themself over Savage’s shoulders.

Somehow, Desaad’s clammy pallid flesh turned a shade paler.

“You- You wouldn’t dare!” he stammered, his normally sadistic leer twisting into an expression of absolute dread. “The Hunger Dogs would go berserk, they’d tear down half of Apokolips before they can be put down!”

“That would be unfortunate…” Savage pierced the God of Torment with an iron gaze. “For you.”

Desaad fell quiet, stripped of his godly arrogance.

“I’m glad we understand each other. Now…” Savage drew a long list from his great coat, clearing his throat. “Item One…”

 [-]

WHISPERING WOODS

July 05, 00:16 UTC

“ARRRGH!! GERROFFME!!” Catra hissed, clutched in Glimmer and Bow’s weeping embrace.

Bow bawled tearily. “Not until you say it!”

“Uuuhgh, fine!” Catra finally relented. “I… I’ll miss you guys, okay? Happy now?”

“We’ll miss you too,” sobbed Bow, wiping his eyes as he and Glimmer reluctantly released Catra.

Catra finally turned to Adora. “So, I guess this is it?”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” said Adora somberly.

“You ready to try the long distance thing?”

“Sure, I mean, Bow and Cybrog set up a sub-space link for my weekly sessions with Dr. Quinzel, and Entrapta’s already working on her own Zeta-platform.”

“HA! Good luck finding volunteers for that!” Catra snorted, before leaning in to kiss Adora deeply. “Be safe.”

“You too,” Adora whispered tenderly.

Catra stepped back, emotionally bracing herself. “Hey, Sparkles, you and Arrow Boy look after this idiot for me, okay?”

“Sure thing, Horde Scum,” sniffed Glimmer.

“Well, I think that’s everyone,” spoke Tigress, turning to Cyborg. “Vic, would you do the honors?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Cyborg raised a hand, the Mobius tech built into his body humming to life.

BOOOOOM!!!

M’comm recoiled in wordless fright from the roaring vortex. M’gann silently took his hand, psychically projecting a wave of reassurance and well-being into his unformed mind.

“All aboard the Boom-Tube Express!” hollered Cyborg.

One by one, the Earth heroes and their various travel companions stepped into the golden portal until only Catra and Melog remained. Catra stood on the cosmic threshold, turning to give Adora one last longing gaze.

“I’ll be back.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Catra stepped deeper into the Boom-Tube, followed by Melog, and suddenly she was gone. The thundering portal collapsed on itself, leaving only the dreamy murmuring of the Whispering Woods.

Adora felt her knees almost give out beneath her, tears blurring her vision. Glimmer, Bow and Kara immediately rushed to support her.

“Are you okay?” Glimmer asked.

“Yeah, I think I will be,” Adora smiled sadly, wiping her eyes as she gazed up at the stars scattered like sparkling sand across the velvet night. She gazed at those shining specks all through the night, wondering which one was Earth. Until they were inevitably washed out by the rosy-pink light of dawn.

Never the End