Into the Light

Part One

Catra thought she knew what it meant to be alone.

Alone was the day Adora left her — the day she chose a group of strangers with lofty ideals over the Horde and over her. Catra couldn't remember life before Adora, and the space she left in Catra's heart was deep and empty. When she first fell into that darkness, Catra was certain she would never find her way back out.

Alone was walking into Shadow Weaver's cell and finding only an illusion in her place. It didn't matter that Shadow Weaver was vicious and cruel, nor that she'd gone out of her way to make Catra's life as miserable as possible. She was the only mother Catra had ever known, and her betrayal cut deep.

Alone was a note atop the neatly folded vest on Scorpia's bed. Carefully written words that confirmed to Catra that not even the kindest person in the world could stand to keep her close. Catra had always known she was completely and utterly unlovable, but losing Scorpia made it real. In that moment, Catra was as alone as she could possibly be, and if the universe was a just place, she'd probably die that way too.

But as she knelt in the central chamber of Horde Prime's ship, her eyes raking across the massive wall of screens that cascaded behind the dictator's throne, Catra realized she'd been wrong.

Every type of alone she had experienced before was nothing compared to how she felt now.

Alone was searching the star map on those screens—the one that covered a universe so big that she couldn't even begin to comprehend it—and finding it empty. There was no ship racing across the cosmos to save her, no Etheria waiting to welcome her back. Just perfect nothingness in every direction.

Apparently the universe was a just place after all: Catra was going to die alone, just like she knew she deserved.

The vast amount of nothing on the screens sent a tidal wave of panic rushing up from her stomach and into her chest. Her heart hammered and her throat constricted. She was on the cusp of something: screaming, or crying, or both. Never in her life had Catra been completely out of options — she had always found a way to survive.

But there would be no way out this time, and that fact filled her with a terror she hadn't felt in a very long time.

"Searching for your Adora, little sister?" Horde Prime drawled from where he sat, staring down at her impassively. Catra fought the urge to recoil. The sound of Adora's name on his lips made her skin crawl, but at least it reminded her of why she was doing this. She was going to let herself die at the hands of a ruthless overlord. Not a soul in the universe would mourn her, but Adora would be safe.

Still, Catra had never been one to back down easily, so she held Prime's cold stare with one of her own. She hated the way his eyes made her feel like he was peering right inside of her, violating the sanctity of her mind with his prying, all-knowing gaze. But she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being the first to look away.

"Just making sure she got away," Catra said with a sneer. "Which she did, so suck it."

Prime regarded her in steely silence. Or, at least he was silent to her. For all Catra knew, he was having a lively conversation with his army of clones, broadcasting his plans directly into their consciousness.

The silence pressed against Catra like a thumb into an open wound. Her nerves were frayed, she was exhausted. Then, just as she thought she might snap, Prime spoke.

"You are afraid."

His words were soft, but in the emptiness of the chamber he may as well have been shouting directly in Catra's face.

"No, I'm not," she spat, though it wasn't the first time he had picked up on signals she didn't realize she was giving off.

A cruel smile sliced its way across Prime's lips as he rose to his feet. "Your racing pulse says otherwise."