Into the Light

Part 3

The darkness in the space where Catra awoke was so perfect that she wondered if she was even awake at all. Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe she was dead. There was no way to know either way.

Blinking her eyes did nothing to clear the gloom, so she reached out to explore her surroundings. Or rather, she assumed she was reaching out: her brain made the command, but she couldn't tell if her arms obeyed. So complete was the nothingness around her that Catra couldn't sense her own limbs. She couldn't even tell what the ground felt like beneath her, or if it was there at all.

I must be dead, she thought. It was the only answer that made sense, and strangely, she felt okay about it. Existing in a void wasn't an ideal way to spend the rest of eternity, but it was better than spending another second at Prime's mercy.

And then, she heard it: the low and distant murmuring of voices. She couldn't make out what they were saying, just that they were out there somewhere. Leaning, presumably toward the sound, Catra wondered what this new development meant. Was this what the afterlife was like? Or was she not dead afterall? The voices sounded as though they were coming from behind a thick wall — as if she was trapped in a room or a box, listening to the world go by outside of it.

"You can't stay locked away from me forever, little sister."

The sound of Prime's voice, coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once, filled the black void with white hot fear. What was once comforting darkness suddenly felt threatening as Catra scanned the shadows for her tormentor.

"Leave me alone!" she screamed into the nothingness, panic rising in what might have been her throat.

"Resisting will only cause you more pain, my child," Prime replied. "It's time to let me in."

What did that mean, she wondered. Was he outside, just beyond the wall? Catra tried to pull back, away, but there was the same nothingness in every direction. She had no way of knowing which way would take her away from danger, and which would lead her closer.

Then, for the first time since she awoke, Catra felt something. At first she thought the sensation was that of fingers pushing through her hair. Terrified, she stifled a yelp and fought to escape the unseen hands. But it was no use; anywhere she went, she felt them. And then, in a way she couldn't quite comprehend, the hands seemed to plunge deeper. It was as though they had sunk beneath her skull, like a ghost passing through walls. The hands, if that's what they were, found their way into her brain — and now they were picking at the edges of her mind, shifting through her thoughts.

Someone was in her mind.

"Stop it!" She panicked and flailed as if she was fighting off an angry swarm of insects. "What are you doing?"

Catra didn't hear Prime's answer, she sensed it. Inexplicably, Catra suddenly became aware of Prime's certainty that she knew how to draw Adora—no, She-Ra—to him.

"What part of this don't you understand?" she snarled. "Adora isn't coming back for me. You're wasting your time."

But Prime either wasn't listening, or he wasn't convinced. He continued to poke and prod, searching for a weakness in her mind that he could use to weasel his way in. It was only then that Catra realized that she was, somehow, succeeding in keeping him out—keeping him away from her thoughts and memories and anything else he could use against Adora. Her fear intensified as it dawned on her that Prime was right. No one knew Adora like she did. She knew all of her weaknesses—what made her angry, what made her tick. If there was anyone who knew how to exploit Adora's vulnerabilities, it was Catra. That made what was in her mind dangerous; she had to protect it from Prime at all costs.