Chapter Text
She-Ra hit the ground running, her boots kicking up a plume of ash and dust. The air was thick with the cloying scent of smoke and burning. It burned her lungs, forcing her to hold back coughs as she sprinted around the perimeter of the palace towards the main stairs. She had to force herself not to look around, to keep her mind on the mission. Assessing the damage could come later.
Still, some things couldn't be ignored.
Black clouds roiled above like thunderheads, fed by pillars of smoke billowing from the palace. What light filtered through cast the world in shades of gray.
The gardens had long since burned. What had once been the most carefully curated collection of flora from all over Etheria was now a barren wasteland of smoldering embers. A few lone fires burned at the periphery, but without more fuel they were beginning to fade.
Don't look, she reminded herself. The gardens were her favorite place in Bright Moon, a haven away from the ugly chaos of the war. To see it so destroyed was heartbreaking.
When she reached the stairs, She-Ra stared out over the battle raging below. It took her less than a moment to come to a realization.
Catra's not here.
Perfume, Mermista, and Frosta stood knee deep in the shallow lake surrounding Bright Moon, spaced evenly so they could defend a large area while still watching each other's backs. Spinerella and Netossa were at the base of the Moonstone Tower, preventing a swarm of bots from forcing their way up.
The remains of Bots, tanks, and skiffs littered the water in front of the princesses, forming a clear demarcation of the battle lines and forming a kind of barrier between them and the Horde. Horde soldiers struggled to climb over or weave between them, only to be met by ice, plants, and water once they finally had a clear shot.
Her friends were holding the line. The Horde, for all its strength, was breaking on them like a wave battering the shore.
It was almost like the princesses were... winning.
Because the Horde isn't being led by Catra.
Catra would have had some clever maneuver, some trick to break through. She'd have sent a small contingent force sweep in from behind and go straight for the palace, or pound away at a distance until the princesses were forced to push forward. She'd try to isolate the princesses so they were all alone, or focus her forces on one to knock them out of the battle. Or, like she'd done during the last battle, concentrate all fire on the moonstone until it shattered. A million different ideas flooded She-Ra's mind, of ways the Horde could push to win.
But the Horde was doing none of them. They were acting like a hammer, trying to smash through with sheer force of numbers. Whoever was in charge clearly lacked Catra's mind for nuanced battle tactics. But that left another, chilling thought.
Where is she? She-Ra focused, combing the battlefield for any indication that her old friend was there. Because if she wasn't… She-Ra didn't know what scared her more, that Catra was down there - commanding her forces without a hint of her trademark cleverness - or that she wasn't. The back of her mind itched. There had to be some kind of trick to this. With Catra, nothing was this simple or easy.
“We need to get down there!” Bow shouted, panting from the exertion of keeping up with the indefatigable She-Ra.
“Right,” she replied, shaking herself back into the moment. She could worry about Catra later. For now, there seemed to be a path to victory, and she didn't want to waste a single moment in reaching for it.
Her eyes flicked up to the sky, to the thick cloud obscuring the daymoon, and she remembered that day in Mystacor, when She-Ra's light banished Shadow Weaver's darkness. An idea was forming. Without light, darkness could thrive.
But it didn't belong to their enemies anymore.
“What can we do to help?” A stern, determined Troi said behind them. Next to him, Umbra watched the battle unfold with passive, detached expression. But her shadow – a stark, clearly defined void, despite the lack of light – twisted with a vicious, almost feral anger.
“Troi, you stick with Umbra. Keep her safe. Bow, I need you to-"
“Way ahead of you,” he interrupted, pulling back on an already nocked arrow. Its head was a thick bulb packed with explosives.
She-Ra nodded and turned. “Umbra, remember what you did during your speech the other day? The thing with the shadow figures?”
Umbra raised a curious eyebrow. “Of course. What about them?”
“How many of those can you make?”
In an instant, Umbra's eyes brightened, flicking up towards the massive smoke clouds. She understood the plan. Smoky wisps of shadow began to pool around her feet. “As many as you need.”
“Good. Alright,” she drew her sword and pointed it at the sky, willing her magic to turn it into a shining beacon. “Let's go win this!”