Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“This room is so suffocating,

Walking on ice, but nobody breaks it,

Stuck in this one-way conversation, 

Guess I’ll be here for a while.”

6 March, 1157 (Aetherean Calendar)
Ainar, Federation of Halfmoon(?)
Catra

Consciousness returned slowly to Catra. She flitted in and out, teetering between the blissful nothingness and the familiar ache of her body. She didn't fight it, didn't rock the boat in either direction, simply content in her limbo. But her mind had not fully returned to her, and the body does what it must, so she inched towards the light and the feeling of her senses returning to her. 

First she heard voices. Distant, echoing in the fog of her mind, they danced in a cadence and language foreign to her. One she knew but couldn't parse. Males and females spoke back and forth, one in pain and another closer to Catra that was soft and soothing. Others chimed in between the dialogue laden with stress and worry.

Then the faint scent of copper crossed her awareness, not weak but muddled like through a plug or covering. It tainted the air she breathed, rolling over her throat and tongue to the point that she could taste the metallic tinge it left.

Next she felt pressure in spots across her body, soft at first but growing as her body awakened. She was on her side, laid out on top of stone. Her limbs were pressed together, held by bindings that bit into her ankles and wrists.

Finally, and all at once, was the pain. Like a dozen hot knives digging into her, she felt her body screaming out where her flesh had been torn open. Blood, both dried and still wet, clung to her fur in knots that pulled at her skin. 

Catra's mind jumpstarted, made alert by the sudden wave that screeched across her nerves. Body tensing, she grit her teeth. She flexed her muscles hard enough that her jaw began to ache, just to keep herself from making a sound. She shook slightly, she couldn't help the involuntary movement, but her addled mind narrowed down to one simple goal: do not move or make a sound.

It was an uncomfortably familiar experience, forcing herself to remain still until the sensation passed, but it did pass. The fire settled down to a smolder, the ache of injury that the body had only just started to try and fix. Catra wanted to let out a sigh of relief at the feeling, but worked to keep her breathing shallow and relaxed. 

The entire front of her face hurt, and when she tried to breathe through her nose she was met with blood instead of air. Not enough to choke her, but enough to startle and cause her body to jolt slightly. It wasn't a good feeling, but it was one that she had felt before.

There were few cadets in the Horde who hadn't felt it at some point, and nobody could be as insubordinate as Catra was without instructors pulling them aside for some 'Wall to Wall Counseling'.

As in, Catra's face went from one wall to the next in rapid succession. So her experience told her that her nose was definitely broken. Again.

...Growing up in the Horde sucked, she decided. 

She risked cracking open an eye, finding herself facing a wall instead of any of her captors. The room was dim, lit by the glowing moss that coated the caves around Ainar. That fact brought mixed feelings. On the one hand, they hadn't taken her somewhere new and it likely hadn't been too long since she had been knocked out.

On the other hand, it meant that her attackers were still near Ainar, and Catra had no idea what their full intentions were.

Looking around as carefully as she could, Catra took in the wall she faced. It was made of familiar stone, and she could see the edges of carvings. She looked up, following the lines in the wall, and found that they formed artwork. People and strange symbols, similar to the ones that she had seen on the walls in Ainar, filled the space in front of her. Each carving flowed artfully into the next telling some kind of story, though the meaning was lost to her. They led upwards, all sweeping in towards one central spot on the wall.

A massive winged cat, a panther of some kind perhaps, looking down into the room. It sat above and behind the figures depicted on the wall in a place of honor, respect, like a venerated icon. She gazed up at the carving towering over her, and was drawn instantly to its eyes.

The holes that formed them were hollow, dug deeper into the wall than the others, and caught the light that filled the room. They glowed, reflecting the light out as if from a living being, like the Sorceress' when she first appeared. They looked... Magical wasn't the right word, at least for Catra. To her, magic was a despicable necessity. A blight on the world, but one that was a core feature and needed for life to flourish. Looking into those eyes, though, she wasn't filled with the dread that typically accompanied exposure.

Instead, she felt almost at peace as they drew her in. 

The longer she looked, the more she noticed. The light around those eyes seemed to dance, like little specks flitting carefree through the air inside and around them. Blue and green and yellow, appearing and disappearing at will. As her mind put words to the scene before her, she realized that she knew where she was. 

Mila's grotto. The carvings and dancing lights that she had told everyone she saw weren't just real, they were sitting before and around Catra. 

It was...

Beautiful wasn't a word she used lightly. She had rarely had cause for it in the Horde, with one notable blonde exception, but it was impossible to describe the carvings as anything but beautiful. The obvious care put into each line, the smooth flow that guided the eyes to where they were needed, the way each individual carving added upon the next. Each told their own expressive story, but there were no obvious distinctions between each one, they simply expanded one another.

One of the female voices cried out in pain, reminding Catra that she wasn't alone. The sound was muffled like through teeth biting down onto something. The other voices chimed in softly, encouragingly, offering what might have been support to their injured comrade. It had to have been the soldier whose knee she dislocated. It worked in Catra's favor, as she was able to tell that she was facing away from the other Magicats.

Magicats. 

She should have seen it coming, living in one of their abandoned towns after all, but it still rubbed her the wrong way. They were Magicats. Her people. She'd spent her entire life with the shadow of her race living over her. Even at the top, the Horde had never let her forget what being a Magicat meant.

They were animals. Cowards. Beasts who crawled in the dirt and hid away from the real world. Shadow Weaver, Scorpestus, her instructors, other cadets, disgruntled soldiers who thought they were out of earshot, they all reminded her that that was exactly what she was. A Magicat. Less than.

But she looked up at the carving, the art on display, and felt disconnected. It was, by its nature, an expression. A symbol of the people who had toiled away carefully digging away at the stone and the dedication they must have felt to venerate some part of their culture forever. Art had a way of speaking in a way that people couldn't, through raw emotions rather than flimsy words. 

The people who held her prisoner came from the ones who had fled from the war. Who had deserted their allies and their territory, had abandoned her as a kitten. But they also came from the people who had carved the piece before her. Who had chosen to commemorate their beliefs in stone, and who had mastered it to the degree that even knowing nothing about them, Catra felt moved by them.

Her captors were standing in two different lights, and she wasn't sure which one they fit.

As subtly as she could she flexed her fingers, unsheathing her claws and turning them inwards into feel at her restraints. Metal cuffs around her wrists. Enough to hold most other Etherians, but the Magicats should have known that it wouldn't hold her. They left her fingers loose, her claws were free. It wouldn't be easy with the angle, but she could probably scratch into them enough that they would break when she decided to escape.

The voices were still speaking to one another in that strange language of theirs, and the cries had died down. From the sound of it, the wounded one was settled and the rest were debating something. Short sentences in a clipped but respectful tone. Catra could make out at least three, all masculine. Vaguely, two of them sounded like the soldiers she had fought, though the other was new.

Accounting for the wounded one not speaking, she was just missing the-

"Did you sleep well?"

-Sorceress. They were all accounted for then.

"You know you're not hiding right?"

Catra remained as she was, still and silent. Just to spite the witch.

"Kesh? me'Bana?" One of the masculine voices said, drawing a tittering sound from the Sorceress.

"Karo, please. Aetheri for our pouting friend here. It's rude to leave her out." Kesh said to the voice. Magic aside, Catra was growing to dislike her. The Sorceress could be snarky, and Catra didn't like being on the receiving end of snark.

She sighed, rolling onto her back to look at the cave's other occupants, "Didn't seem worried about being rude when you attacked me."

Two of the masculine soldiers were kneeling with rifles ready, keeping watch down a corridor. The third was seated next to the prone female soldier who was drenched in sweat and grimacing in pain. Down on her knees next to them was Kesh, hands resting on the wounded soldier's shoulder.

Kesh rolled her eyes and looked over to the seated one with a knowing smile, "Karo, did you attack this poor girl?"

Karo recoiled slightly, brow knitting in confusion as they looked between Catra and Kesh, "What? No," They said, glaring at Catra in offense, "Of course not, she came out of nowhere and attacked us."

Kesh gave an exaggerated gasp and looked back to Catra, "Evening Star, shame on you. Lying to me like that. And here I've been nothing but polite."

Catra opened her mouth to snap back when the wounded soldier cut her off through clenched teeth, "Kesh. Please, focus."

The Sorceress looked down at the woman with a partially hidden wince and gave her a gentle smile, squeezing her shoulder "Of course, Raki, I'm sorry. I find myself easily distracted while down here."

The attention turning from her, Catra closed her mouth and sat back to observe. Her captors were a curious bunch, and she felt no rush to escape as long as they were distracted. She could learn more about them, and if she couldn't fight them off then she could at least try to distract them. Anything to give Mila and the others more time to get away.

Positioning herself above the woman, Kesh closed her eyes, breathing in deep and exhaling slowly. When she opened her eyes again she nodded at Karo, who grabbed onto their comrade's shoulders and held them down. 

Warmth emanated out from the Sorceress, washing over Catra like she was next to a campfire. She watched as Kesh gently cupped the soldier's face, raising one finger to press gently into her forehead. When she made contact the warmth retreated, pulling in towards the two Magicats. The reason for the bracing became clear, as once the feeling had fully gone the woman on the ground pushed up with a loud cry.

The grotto echoed with a wet pop and she saw the woman's knee, which had been thoroughly dislocated a moment before, slid back into place. Catra's ears pinned back at the sound, cringing at the obvious pain it caused. She expected more screams, or thrashing, or any indication of the woman's agony but none of that happened. Instead the wounded soldier collapsed back to the ground, her breathing hard but obviously relieved.

She was stunned, she knew that magic could be used to heal but the reports she had been given were faulty at best. Her sources in Mystacor gave detailed accounts about the capabilities of their fellows' magical abilities and what they provided to the Rebellion. Healing was a slow, laborious process. It was saved for critical injuries or ones that would take a long time to heal anyway. 

They told her that it was used as a supplement to traditional healing, something to speed up the process rather than replacing it. But Kesh barely looked like she was spending any effort, and the wounded woman seemed exhausted but no worse for wear. Catra kept her eyes locked onto the Sorceress as she rose and walked to the other two Magicats she had fought, laying her hands on them and filling the grotto with that pulsating warmth. 

"What's wrong," Kesh asked, finishing with the last injuries and turning back to Catra, "Never seen a Shaman at work before?"

Catra could confidently say that she hadn't. In fact, aside from the occasional Sorceress she met on the battlefield, the only one she had ever had the chance to study was Shadow Weaver.

The thought of the old witch brought a torrent of memories forward. Punishment. Experiments. Casual Cruelty.

'I want you to know that I could have done this for you any of the times you needed to be disciplined.' The cold voice ringing out in her head clashed with the memory of the warmth that had flowed through her body as the results of her torture were washed away as though they had never been inflicted. 

It was on the day Adora defected, when Catra was forced to pay for her Partner's crimes yet again. The witch had placed her thumb against her forehead and undone her work. Just like Kesh did, Catra realized. A touch, a blast of warmth, and injuries vanished.

"Don't worry, you're up next child." Kesh said, striding towards Catra with one hand extended.

She didn't need to be an expert in magic to recognize the signs, the similarities. These were Magicats, they weren't from Mystacor. Of course they wouldn't use the same techniques that those other Sorceresses did, but why then did they seem to have the same one as Shadow Weaver?

"No!" Catra shouted recoiling instinctively from the offered hand, "You stay away from me!"

The Sorceress pulled back, a look of confusion on her face. Glances to the others were met with similar curiosity, though the soldier's faces were lined with more caution than Kesh's. When she looked back at Catra she was met with a hiss as the captive shuffled herself up onto her knees, keeping her body low and tense.

"You're injured, Evening Star," Kesh said, her voice quiet like speaking to a frightened child, "I'd like to fix that."

"I swear, if you try and lay one finger on me I will bite it off." Catra growled at the older woman. Her back now facing away from the others, she brought out her claws and began trying to scratch away at the cuffs binding her.

The nearest soldier to her stood up, one hand reaching down to rest on their rifle, "Hey," They hissed back at Catra, "She is trying to help you, you psychopath! As much as I'd love to leave you in a puddle of your own blood again-"

"Yeah? Well if the Great Fluffini over here wants to help me, how about starting with these cuffs?" Catra said with a nasally sneer, "How's the nose by the way? I couldn't tell during the fight, I was too distracted beating you with your friend's gun." She worked her claws faster, frustrated by the lack of damage she was causing. She could tear through tank armor, why were manacles stopping her?

"Oh I'd love to see you try-" The soldier stepped towards her, stopped by Kesh's hand reaching out in front of them.

"Karo," The Sorceress said, her attention still on Catra, "She's just scared. I told you that I would handle her."

"You said you'd take care of her, but I still don't get why." The one she called Karo said, "Why are we doing anything with her anymore? You say that she's clean, and Raki's healed. Our priority should be-"

Kesh turned away from Catra and grasped Karo's shoulder, "Karo, please. I know you're feeling left in the dark, but I swear to you that there is a good reason. You'll see soon, I just need you to trust me."

"Kesh," Karo replied, ears and tail drooping, "Of course I trust you. But please, it's my job to keep you safe, and I can't do that if I don't know what you're doing." 

She gave him a sad smile, "I know, my friend. As soon as I can I'll tell you everything, but I can't. I swore an oath. Besides, you know as well as I that as long as I am down here, I am the safest I could ever be. You got me here, now it's my turn."

They looked nonplussed, but motioned Kesh on. When the Sorceress returned her gaze to speak to Catra, the soldier's glare returned.

"We're not trying to hurt you, I want to help." Kesh said.

Catra scoffed, "Yeah? Say that to the blood in my sinuses, witch."

"Evening Star, will you please-"

Catra cut her off again, frustration mounting as the cuffs remained undamaged, "Why in the hells do you keep calling me that!?" She shouted, taking a step back towards the carvings.

There was an almost audible gulp as Kesh's shoulders dropped an inch. 

"Because that's your name, kah-Trah." Her voice came out heavy, laden with emotion that Catra couldn't pinpoint.

Over the mage's shoulder, Catra could see the two Magicats on guard shoot each other an inquisitive look. Kesh took a deep breath, centering herself as she straightened her back and took a step away from Catra. "You don't-? No, I suppose you wouldn't." Kesh said, almost to herself. Their eyes were locked onto one another, Catra's in suspicion and Kesh's searching for something in hers.

"You all know who I am." Catra stated simply, ice forming in her chest.

"I do." Kesh replied. Her ears fell as she realized that whatever she was looking for wasn't there.

"There aren't many ad'Kara who don't know you," Karo said from next to Kesh, their hardened face in contrast with the Sorceress'. "The Dar'ad'Kara who joined the ani'la Naast."

"When will you get it through your skulls," She said through gritted teeth, "That I! Don't! Speak! That! Language!" She yelled out the last few words, groaning in frustration as she felt one of her claws chip on the metal around her wrists.

Karo made to advance on her, but was stopped by Kesh grabbing their shoulder. "Karo, please," She asked, her voice urging them to calm down, "I know, I do, but I'm in no danger. I need you to let me handle this." The soldier's glare held for a moment, before breaking with a frustrated huff that was just shy of a snarl. Without a word, they turned away and stalked across the grotto back to their comrades.

Kesh watched them go, clearly distressed, but took a breath and turned back to Catra. She moved into a position directly opposite her and sat down, crossing her legs. 

"Please sit, Evening- Catra." Kesh corrected herself, "And I will explain."

Catra remained where she was, glaring down at the Sorceress. When she didn't move, Kesh added, "I know you're trying to escape. Your claws won't be able to cut through your restraints."

"How do you-" Catra started.

"Sit." Kesh said, "And I will explain."

Catra watched her carefully, scanning the witch for any sign of deceit. She could feel that her claws hadn't made more than the faintest scratch on the cuffs, but she was hesitant to do as she was asked. She was up against a wall, literally, and they outnumbered her. She didn't have many other options, but at least, she figured, as long as they were talking, the Magicats wouldn't make a move on Ainar.

Still, it grated at her nerves to do as her captors demanded of her. It wasn't who she was to comply with orders, but Kesh's words felt almost... Sincere. With a sigh, Catra lowered herself back down to the ground in as relaxed a position as she could manage with her arms behind her back.

"Thank you. Now, Catra. Do you know who I am?" Kesh said with a hopeful smile, when Catra slowly shook her head in the negative, the smile fell back down. "Of course. So. I am a runa'Havur, what some Etherians call a Shaman. Or I suppose a Sorcerer if you are more familiar with the Mystacoran way of teaching." Catra must have been making a face at her, because Kesh raised a hand in a patient gesture, "What I am saying is that the ad'Karade view magic differently than the rest of Etheria."

"It is innate to us, part of our very beings. Something that influences every aspect of our lives in one way or another. They don't call us Magic-Cats for no reason, as simplistic and culturally ignorant as that title is. For example, did you know that your claws are not that different from any other creature on the planet? Physically there's almost no difference, but then why are you able to cut through metal while animals are not?"

"Is this the whole plan," Catra said, "Bore me to death? They have guns, you could just shoot me instead."

Kesh smirked, "Now now, be patient while I explain your claw's sudden- ah, inability to perform, we'll say."

Catra started to rise, already well past being patient with them, but paused when Kesh's fingers began to glow a gentle green. Like the mist that had flowed from her eyes during the fight, or the mote of light she saw on the carving behind her. Catra finally understood, it was raw magic. Something that even the Sorceresses she had fought couldn't summon at will.

"You see," Kesh said, extending her claws, "Much like you do not think about the beating of your heart for it to function, the flow of magic through us is natural. An extension of our being, not something that we need to force. It is not our claws themselves that tear through our obstacles, it is the extension of our intent that does. The magic in our bodies understand our will, when we wish to cut-"

Kesh raised another hand, holding a small stone for Catra to see. With a deft motion, her extended claws slashed out and cleaved the pebble in two.

"-we cut. When we do not wish it, we don't." She then dragged a single claw down the length of her arm, leaving nothing but a slight part in her fur. "I don't know how aware you are of our people's ways, but the runa'Havur are masters at manipulating the Runa, in ourselves, in the world around us, and in others as well."

"We can shift its path, borrow its power, and if need be halt its flow. That is how we alter our environment and perform acts that the Mystacorans call spells. When I add my own Runa to another's it can help them regain their strength and heal their wounds. When we have a particularly violent guest trying very valiantly to harm us I can shift where the Runa in their bodies goes, such as stopping its flow to their claws for example. In which case, they would find themselves unable to continue attempting to hurt the others around them."

The Sorceress' smirk returned for a fleeting moment, "Just as an example, you see." 

Catra already knew all of that. Well, at least the part about only cutting through things her claws shouldn't be able to when she wanted. Not the part about it being magic. Or that magic obeying her thoughts. Or magic being molded around by Sorceresses like some kind of fire dancer. Or the- Okay most of that was actually pretty new information to her. 

She wasn't an idiot, she knew that Magicats had a connection to magic. Like Kesh said, it was in the name. But using it? Not just being in a world where it existed, but actually, actively, having magic inside of her, responding to her like some kind of... She didn't know, a servant maybe? 

That, she didn't like the thought of. 

"Now," Kesh continued, seemingly unaware of the turmoil she had created in Catra's mind, "It occurs to me that I'm being the rude one here. I know your name, I'd like to think you know mine, but for the sake of being polite let us introduce ourselves."

The Sorceress, or Shaman Catra supposed, puffed out her chest and nodded. Placing one hand on her own chest, she proudly declared "My name is dral'aDat ke'Shukalar Ca and I am known as Kesh." She turned to the soldiers and gestured to Karo with her hand.

They looked back at her with one eyebrow raised, "Really? We're doing introductions now?" Kesh simply nodded in response, drawing a defeated sigh from the soldier, "Fine. karo'Ika o'r neDu'ta. I go by Karo."

Kesh continued gesturing at each Magicat in turn. The next up was the biggest one with light beige fur who glanced back at Karo, seeking some kind of permission. When he received a nod he turned back to the tunnel he was guarding and gave his name over his shoulder.

"I'm oRar'aKior. Call me Raki."

Next to Raki was a Magicat Catra hadn't seen in the fight. He had white fur with speckled orange spots. He didn't even turn to look back into the grotto and responded with a gruff, almost uninterested tone.

"traNyc Choruk. Cho."

Kesh turned to the final member of her party, the female soldier Catra had nearly crippled. Up close, she still reminded Catra of Mila, at least with her dark grey fur. Unlike the kitten, the young woman had green eyes that were burning holes into Catra's head. She recognized that look, the tightened jaw muscles, pursed lips, and pinched eyebrows. She was angry at Catra.

Understandable, she supposed. A dislocated knee couldn't have been a pleasant feeling to have. 

Still, when prompted she answered immediately, spitting out "Cuyan aRu an'retYc. Yana."

Their names were... Strange, Catra thought. She didn't understand any of the language, but they felt less like names than just normal sentences, at least from the little she had overheard between them. By the third one, though, she had caught the pattern for the names they went by. Short, simple combinations of syllables seemingly pulled at random from within their full name. 

"And you?" Kesh said, gesturing towards Catra. 

"You already know my name." She said

"We know what to call you, child. I'm asking you to tell my friends here your full name."

There was no way in any of the hells that that was going to happen. Catra could count on two hands how many people had ever been told her full name, and a couple of them were dead already. At least, she was pretty sure not many people knew it, she couldn't be certain what Adora had told the Rebellion. Catra hadn't shared her former Partner's full name with anybody, so she hoped that the blonde wonder had at least followed suit there.

'Besides,' She thought to herself, 'Who would believe either of us anyway?'

Adora Rainbowsmile Happyfist was hardly a name that anybody in the rest of the Horde would attribute to the eight foot tall warrior goddess that routinely destroyed armored columns. The thought of that name threatened to bring a smile to Catra's lips.

They had been children, barely old enough to understand the concept of longer names and somehow she had gotten it in her head that Adora needed one. So like the kitten she was, Catra threw out the first thing she could think of for her Partner. It was just like Adora to decide to return the favor, and after a night of teasing each other and sneaking into the record room it was made official, even if only on their recruitment records.

Force Commander of the Horde, Strongest in the Crimson Waste, the Bane of Princesses, and the single most successful military commander on the face of the planet. And her official name was Catra Applesauce Meowmeow.

No one could ever know. She was lucky enough that no one ever checked the recruitment records, she didn't need to go spreading it herself.

The urge to smile shrived up and died. The names were ridiculous, but they were theirs. They were something real, maybe the only things that they would have ever owned, and they gave them to each other. Adora had given her a name. 

Adora. 

Something twisted in her chest at even the thought of her, in the wake of Catra's revelation prior to getting knocked out. No, that wasn't right. Revelation implied that it was new, surprising, but it wasn't. Even through the pain and misery that came from fighting a war against each other, it had always been there. No matter how much pain she used to try and conceal her feelings. 

Maybe that's what made it all hurt so much. Even after the betrayal, after the sanctimonious preaching and looking down on her, after it became obvious that Adora hadn't truly felt the same way Catra had, she never truly stopped loving her Partner. The girl who had named her, whose face and flowing hair set against the shimmering Fright Zone skyline was forever set in her mind's eye when she thought of beauty.

Catra had thought that she was at her end, and had been willing for a brief moment to accept the painful truth she had denied herself for so long. 

The problem was, once that seal was cracked there was no way to close it again. 

Catra shuffled in her spot on the ground. She needed to focus. Adora had abandoned her too. She wouldn't be coming to help, no one would. Dealing with her emotions could come later, ideally about ten years after she was dead, the present was too important. Cutting her way out of the cuffs was a no-go, and Kesh was willing to talk, though the looks that she was getting showed that her companions weren't happy about it. 

"I don't have any more name to give. Catra. That's it."

She saw it again, a glance between the soldiers. Questioning looks like they were trying to put something together. Whatever it was had to do with her name, not who she was but the actual name itself. Something wrong about it that they knew but hadn't shared. 

"Well then," Kesh said, "I guess we all know each other now." The Sorceress rose back up to her feet and took a step towards Catra, her hand extended again.

"What do you think you're doing?" Catra snapped. She leaned back away from the appendage until her shoulders were pressed against the carved wall.

The movement dislodged something from the wall, causing it to fall gently down in front of Catra's face. The little speck brushed against her nose, tickling her as it passed. It swirled around as she tried to subtly blow it away, filling her nose with a strange scent. Pressure built up, and before she could stop it Catra flinched forwards as she sneezed.

"Ah-choo!" The only thing more annoying than the high pitch her voice jumped to whenever she sneezed, was the blinding pain that flashed through her face, vividly reminding her of the fact that her nose had been broken by the Sorceress' magic.

With her head bent down as she tried to push through the pain, she could only hear the softly restrained chuckle as Kesh continued, "Well, I was planning on healing your injuries. I take it your little reminder will suffice as my reason."

Catra glared up at her, eyes tearing up as the pain subsided far too slowly, "Try it and I rip your ears off, Fluffini." Her voice was far too nasally to be threatening, and the trickle of blood she felt dripping down her face certainly didn't help.

Kesh simply raised an eyebrow and continued forward to make contact, "Come now, I swear that you'll be fine. A simple touch, a flash of magic, and-"

"I said stay away!" Catra yelled, her back pressed as far into the wall as it could

"Catra, I know that you're in pain." Kesh said, her voice and eyes appearing sincere, "Please just sit still and let me help you." She shuffled to the side, unable to move very far but knocking free more of that weird dust from the wall.

She heard a gasp from one of the Magicats beyond the Sorceress, "Kesh!"

Catra's struggle to back away was frankly pathetic, and only served to make more of the little motes fall around her as Kesh closed in. They clung to her like pollen.

"Back off!" She shouted, kicking out with her bound feet. The action served only to twist her around into a faceful of the stuff falling around her. The resulting sneeze was just as painful as the first, and she felt blood spraying out through her sinuses and nostrils towards the Sorceress.

Suddenly the grotto echoed with a deafening roar, the sound reverberated off of the walls and Catra could feel it in her bones, made all the worse because it felt like it was coming from right next to her head. She opened her eyes in shock, ears pinned down to her head, and saw a spray of crimson droplets hanging in the air in front of her, directly between her and Kesh. 

The air around the droplets shimmered, before darkening as the space itself took shape into a solid burgundy mass. It took Catra a moment to recognize the thing in front of her as the panther that had adorned the wall behind her. Taking it in, she noted that the creature's flesh was all that same shade of burgundy, adorned by a tail and mane of shimmering energy. Magic, she realized, flowing like red flames from its neck and tailbone in sharp waves. 

And it was growling as it stalked forward. Towards Kesh.

The occupants of the grotto fell silent, save for the beast standing on four legs between them. Kesh in particular stared at the thing with surprise. It stepped towards the Sorceress, slowly like a hunter on the prowl, until its face was mere inches from hers. Its growls waned as it leaned in towards her, sniffing at the air. 

"Mrrow." It's voice was stern, and echoed in on itself like she was standing at the mouth of a cave as it called from the depths. The beast's posture loosened, the waves of magic cascading down its back slowing as they transitioned to a dark purple.

It turned away from Kesh, making direct eye contact with Catra. The thing's eyes were solid, no pupil or iris that she could see, and were the same shade of purple as its magic. They bore down into Catra, and suddenly she felt very, very small. It took a step towards her, then another. The grotto wasn't very big, and the thing took up nearly a third of it by itself. In those two steps it was already closer to her than Kesh had been. 

Catra's fight or flight may have been stuck on 'fight' for most of her life, but the raw energy radiating off of that thing superseded any experience that Catra had. If Kesh had an aura unlike any Sorceress she had ever seen, that creature felt like staring into the eye of a hurricane. She tried to push herself back, but she was still against the wall with nowhere to go. Still, it moved closer. Just like with Kesh it sniffed, close enough that the action shifted her hair. 

The growling had ceased and its face was calm, but Catra's mind didn't care. The panic grew inside of her, screaming at her for a release, for her to do something. But she couldn't. She was rooted in place, cornered by the creature as it leaned in towards her. Her body and mind screamed, begging her to do something, but she didn't know what. She wanted to run, she wanted to fight, and wanted to scream, but her mind couldn't settle on any one thing.

The creature was in her face and gently ran its tongue along the fur of her forehead, like a parent grooming its young. The soft, wet sensation on her face broke her out of the trance, and as with most reactions in her life, the dial had fallen on 'fight'. In the back of her mind she registered Kesh's panicked cry and the feeling of a hand pushing against her shoulder.

Her body reacted on its own, and between being backed into a literal wall, her hands and ankles secured, and her claws being magically dulled, she fell back on the only offensive option she had left.

Catra went in for the headbutt.

It was a more viable option back when she had her mask, but she had been trained by the dirtiest fighters on Etheria.  Even without its protection it wouldn't be her first time, nor her last, throwing her face directly into combat. She bunched her shoulders and drove forward, aiming to bring the crown of her head down onto the thing's nose.

There was the briefest sensation of heat, and her vision went white.

It wasn't a flash of light from a head rattling impact, or some release of energy as the creature was vanquished. One moment she was bound on the ground with a magical panther towering over her and the next she was on her feet, freed, and standing in a blank white expanse. She staggered, thrown off balance by the sudden shift in her bearing.

Catching herself she recovered quickly and dropped into a fighting stance, twisting around in search of the threat. It was nowhere to be seen in the vast field of white. Nothing could be seen in it. As far out as her eyes could search, Catra didn't see anything, no cave, no walls, no floor, nothing.

She thought that she was completely and utterly alone, before she heard a groan from behind her. She looked over her shoulder, confused. Having spun herself in a circle looking for the beast, she had looked all around her and seen nothing. But the sound was clear, and close, so she turned her body and readied herself.

A mess of blue robes and white fur lay on whatever it was Catra was standing on in the void. Kesh, prone and unmoving, let out another groan. She didn't look wounded, but she was still a Sorceress. Catra approached her carefully, ready to pounce or spring away at a moment's notice.

"Catra?" Kesh asked in obvious discomfort, still not moving.

She hesitated a breath, but saw no threat in responding, "Yeah?"

"That was dumb. Really dumb." Kesh said from the ground.

"What is this?" Catra asked, still in her fighting stance, "Where are we?"

Kesh ignored her, "Stick your hand in a fire to see hot it is kind of dumb."

"I asked you a question-"

"Burn a forest to save the trees kind of dumb."

Catra growled at the prostrate Sorceress, "Okay, you've made your point, now answer my-"

"The kind of dumb thing parents let their kittens do because it'll be a valuable lesson. That kind of dumb."

"KESH!" Catra screamed at the frustrating little-

"Yes Catra?" She replied sweetly, stirring just enough to look up at her with a flat expression.

She deflated somewhat, just feeling tired talking to the mage, "Where are we? What was that purple thing?"

Kesh studied her with that same flat look, before taking a deep breath and lifting herself into a sitting position with another groan, "You actually don't know, do you?" Catra shook her head in the negative.

The white Magicat rubbed her face with a sigh, "That was the spirit that has guided the ad'Karade since our progenitors first set their eyes on Etheria's sky. A being who has graced a worthy few with powers rivaling that of the Runestone Princesses. Catra, you just tried to headbutt the living embodiment of Runa."

The talk of spirits and Runa, or magic or whatever they called it, didn't go over her head so much as she brushed it aside. But if Catra recognized one thing, it was power. She had fought Sorceresses and Princesses, and of the two Princesses were much worse. Triple that if they were connected to a Runestone. If Kesh was telling the truth, and if she was right, then Catra had just attacked what was basically a living Runestone. For licking her face.

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"Mrrow."

"What the-!" Catra nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound, and the accompanying pressure of something large and warm pressing against her hip didn't help. Looking down she was met with the panther walking past, nuzzling into her leg with a content look on its face and a faint rumbling purr.

It stayed where it was standing as she pushed herself back, claws unsheathing on reflex. The beast just sat down and blinked at her, its mane and tail having softened to the same shade of light blue as its eyes. Catra stared it down, expecting some kind of retaliation, but it never came.

"Hello again, old friend." Kesh said, reaching up to gently press a hand into the thing's shoulder. It leaned back into the touch, but remained focused on Catra, "You gave me a shock just then, though I suppose I should have expected it. I apologize for the young one. She has been rather jumpy since my kin and I arrived."

Kesh turned to Catra, rolling her eyes at her claws and ready stance, "Come child, sit. There is nothing to fear from Melog here."

"Melog?" Catra repeated, "That's what this thing's called?" Her words struck something and she received a pouty face from the large cat.

When she didn't move to sit, it's eyes lit up and her sense of equilibrium was thrown off again. She shook her head, and found herself sitting cross-legged across from Kesh. She shot the cat a glare, but it simply laid down and rested its head on top of its paws.

"Yes," Kesh chuckled, "Their name is Melog. If you prefer, their formal title is ad'aKior miiLa Kara'yaim, but they prefer if you call them Melog, and not a thing." The creature, Melog, blinked at Catra long and slow, radiating content.

Catra looked between the two of them. They were being far too casual, she had just attacked them but they just sat there looking at her. Even before she was transported to whatever liminal space she found herself in, Kesh had been relaxed. Conversational even! It wasn't right, they should have been wary, or outright hostile, towards her. Two, or three she guessed, could play at that game. If they wanted to talk, then they would talk. Cara had questions, and if they were willing to waste time to answer them then she would happily let them.

"How are you so calm right now?" She asked, "Is this normal or something?"

"Oh!" Kesh said with a laugh, "No. No no no. I am- Well I am a lot of things right now but calm isn't exactly one of them. In fact I think you'll find that I am on the verge of what I believe you children call 'having an episode'. As for this being normal... Also no, there's nothing normal about Melog. Let alone whatever it is they do that brings people here. I believe that it is a form of limbo, a place between Runa and reality. Does that sound about right?" She directed her question to the cat.

"Mrrow." Melog replied, their purr becoming noticeably louder for a moment.

"So. Their own little pocket in magic," Kesh gestured to the expanse around them, "We're lucky, I suppose, this doesn't happen often. I've seen something similar, but that was almost twenty five years ago, and the circumstances this time are very different." Her face darkened, "Very different."

Catra looked down at the large cat purring away without a care in the world. She wouldn't tell Kesh, but the void wasn't actually that new to her. In fact, she had just experienced it, or something similar, earlier that day. The feeling of pulling apart, of entities orders of magnitude greater than she was, and of that warm cloak of protection that had settled over her. Projecting pride and love towards her fractured being.

No, she wouldn't tell Kesh. Because when Catra was near Melog she felt that same sense of warmth and care, and the connection between those two experiences filled her with a deep dread and uncertainty. She tried to slot the purple panther in front of her into the presence she had felt in that moment, and was disquieted by how right it felt even when it looked so wrong.

Melog opened one eye, the one that Kesh couldn't see, and gazed back at Catra with a look that said that it knew what she was thinking. And that did nothing to settle her stomach.

"And you're... Okay with them doing," She waved her hand towards the big cat, "Whatever to us?"

Kesh studied her face for a moment, before shrugging, "I have had the fortune in my life to know people of great power and conviction. People who were sure of every step they took, and secure in every choice they made. In our past interactions, Melog has put them all to shame. They brought us here for a reason, and I trust in them that it is the right one."

"You knew then." Catra said, fishing for context that may help her understand even a fraction of what was going on, "You knew that they were in that grotto when you came down here. And when you brought me there."

Kesh smiled, "Yes. I came to see them specifically, in fact."

"You've been here- there -before," Catra asked, edging closer to what she really wanted to know, "But they stayed and you left." The smile on Kesh's face lessened, and Melog opened both of their eyes. 

"Ask your question, Catra."

She felt her heartbeat quicken, but steeled herself. They both knew what she was really after. As curious as she was about the Magicat and Melog, there was only one thing that Catra needed to know from them.

"Why are you here? Now. Ainar's been abandoned for years, apparently with Melog running around in the caves nearby, and all of a sudden you come slinking in from the dark. Why?" She put as much weight behind her words as she could, and watched as they settled on the Sorceress. Even Melog seemed to wilt a little underneath them.

Kesh was silent, breaking eye contact to look down at her hands, folded neatly in her lap. She chewed her words, formulating whatever answer she would give. It looked to Catra like she was troubled, like she knew what she wanted to say but didn't know how. Until Melog turned over in their spot on the ground, leaning enough to press themselves into Kesh's knee. 

The contact grounded her, strain visibly melting from her features. Underneath, Catra could see years bearing down on her. She must have been almost twice Catra's age, but she may as well have been triple for the wear that appeared on her. She was still looking down at her hands when she spoke up.

"You were raised in the Horde." It wasn't a question, just a statement of fact. "But what do you know about our people? You don't speak our language, you don't recognize our names, you don't fight like us, even your magic is different. But what do you know, truly know about us? About Dhavhe chur'Yaim, what you probably call Halfmoon?"

Catra looked at her, waiting for the Sorceress to raise her head or look back. When she didn't, Catra simply answered her with the truth. 

"Nothing."

Melog's mane and tail darkened to a somber midnight blue and a low whine escaped their mouth, but the change was minuscule compared to Kesh. Catra watched a shudder run through the mages body and, like a marionette being released at the end of a show, she slumped onto her already lowered body. Her head dropped further into her lap, and Catra could only see two parts of her body that looked like they had any life in them at all.

The tightening of the muscles in her face, pulling downwards in a sick grimace, and the flexing of her claws into her palms. It was the expression of someone who had known that they were going to be told something bad and were still horrified at the result. Worse, the scent of blood that rose from her told Catra that as bad as it was to hear, she blamed herself for it.

She had said it herself, Magicat claws only cut what their owner wanted to damage. Be it inanimate objects, or the people who hurt you. And like the scars that burned on Catra's own palms and forearms proved, that person wasn't always your enemy.

"We weren't always what we are now." Kesh said, her voice flat, like a prisoner who had just received their sentence, "We were strong, cultured. We were spread far and wide, and growing every day. Our people flourished, before the war. Before the ani'la Naast. I wish you could have seen it, Catra." Her voice cracked on Catra's name. She tried to speak again, but her voice broke under the weight of her emotions.

"I'm sorry." Kesh managed. It came out pathetic. Too broiled in emotion, too familiar. 

"What?" Catra said, taken aback. Who was she to say that, a Magicat? What did she know, what right did she have to apologize like that? Like she had any idea who Catra was because they knew her name. Because they had heard about the Force Commander who was a Magicat like them? 

"I'm so sorry Evening Star-"

"Cut it out!" Catra shouted, anger boiling up inside of her. Kesh didn't know anything, "Stop calling me that! You know my name, use it!" 

No, she had no right to act like Catra had suffered some great loss because she hadn't grown up as one of them. The Magicats were pathetic. They were cowards, they ran away when they had sworn to fight alongside the rest of Etheria. Catra was nothing like them, she was strong, she had grown up facing nothing but vitriol and torment but rose up anyway to heights that no one, not even Adora, thought she could. 

"Catra-"

"All my life people looked down on me because I'm a Magicat," She spat at the Sorceress, "Because I was small, and weak. That a loud noise was all it took to hurt me because of these ears-" She pulled out one of her ears, showing that it was the size of her hand. Her tail flicked around enough to be seen, "Because all they had to do was step on my tail to hurt me."

She saw the lines around Kesh's face tighten like she was grimacing, and the fire in her doubled.

"Everybody had a thousand reasons to hate me, but my species was the worst one. It didn't just mean that I needed a different diet, or that I was different than the other cadets, it meant that I would always be compared to you." She was towering over Kesh, "That people would always look at me and see someone who could be pushed around, someone who would give up if things got a little hard, who would find a corner to cry in because they couldn't handle the real world. But I'm not like you. I'm not like any of you! I built myself up from nothing."

"I toppled Shadow Weaver when no one else could. I took control of the Horde's military without losing a single soldier. I conquered nations and destroyed kingdoms. I struck fear into the hearts of every person on Etheria. Me! And I didn't need anybody else to do it. I didn't need magic, I didn't need friends, I didn't need Adora, and I didn't need my people." She spat out the last words with a sneer.

"My people were weak. My people were cowards, who would rather hide in a hole in the ground than fight for themselves. I didn't grow up with you, and I was better for it! The Magicats abandoned Etheria, abandoned their homes, and they abandoned me!" Catra was shaking. She hadn't meant to rant on, but as soon as the first words left her mouth they couldn't be stopped.

She could feel the tears threatening to spill, but she refused to let them. She wouldn't cry in front of the Magicats, they didn't deserve to see that side of her. "Say whatever you want about your culture, or your beliefs, I don't care. I was left to die by your people. They didn't want me then, and I don't want them now."

Catra turned and stomped off into the endless void. She didn't know where she was, or if there was anywhere that she could go to, but she didn't care. She had to leave, had to get away. Maybe that was the most Magicat part of her, the need to run.

She didn't make it far, maybe ten meters before that sickening sense of vertigo returned. Like she was falling forward even while standing tall. Even against the white expanse she could feel her vision blur, a pressure in her eyes that pushed back against her skull. The world was falling away from her again, a rushing sound like wind blowing down a tunnel filled her ears, but there was no sensation to match it. She looked back, ready to snap at the two magic users that were no doubt causing the feeling.

Only, Kesh and Melog were gone.

In that same direction, a line formed across what she knew must have been the horizon. A black bar against the endless expanse, thin as a hair but spreading to the sides like the light of one of the Daymoons cresting in the morning. A circle formed in the center of that horizon, expanding through the void and subsuming the blinding white around it. The darkness was the polar opposite of the white around her, a perfect void that absorbed everything it touched. 

The falling sensation doubled, pulling her forward off of her feet and towards the horizon. It was like falling off of a cliff, only the world around her was moving in her place. She could hear the rush of air, but nothing touched her skin or fur. The blackness spread, surrounding her as she fell into it. She had passed from one void to another, but the blackness felt oppressive.

She was being compressed, pushed and pulled from above and below, pressed in from all sides as the dark began to take shape. Basic lines formed, growing from the distance as they split again and again. Becoming squares, then boxes, circles, triangles, spheres, and pyramids. Simple shapes grew infinitely complex as they molded together and created new shapes. 

The falling sensation finally died as the lines slowed their formation, and she felt her feet touch the ground. She was immediately off kilter, and stumbled a step forward but caught herself. She felt the cold stone carved into a pathway and worn down with the footsteps of untold thousands of people. She looked up, still regaining her equilibrium, and saw the darkness recede.

It was a sight that mortal bodies were not equipped to experience. A thousand signals rushing up her nerves that her brain had no way to process. Colors bloomed and danced across the formations, shifting from shape to shape in a way that should not have been physically possible, until they settled into place and were cemented back into some form of reality.

Overwhelmed, she clenched her eyes shut and pinned her ears to her head, mentally begging whatever deities existed to just stop and let her breathe. It was like her senses had been magnified a hundred times before being thrown into the Forge. Lights and sounds and physical touch that bombarded her in a continuous onslaught. 

Whether through luck or divine intervention, her senses dulled once more. The pressure she felt pressing against every fiber of her being faded away until she felt herself standing still. Like a weight finally being lifted from her chest, her lungs expanded and she gasped for a breath, unintentionally opening her eyes. 

She was hit with another wave of sensation, but at last they were feelings that her body was able to handle.

Scent, overwhelming her nose with familiar smells and new. Stains and oils, some used and some presented, coating surfaces around her and so thick in places that she could taste them. She felt an instant reaction as the smell of fresh baked bread, laden with earthy tones of spices her body knew but she couldn't name, hit her and caused water to pool around her tongue.

People, some stationary but others mobile and mingling, surrounded her on all sides. Flashes of color filled her eyes as Magicats moved through her field of view, their coats and eyes a brilliant display against the grey backdrop of the cavern they resided in, and their clothes various shades of earthy tones and dark hues.

She was in Ainar.

She could see the edges of the cavern that had hosted her for months, trace the lines of bioluminescent moss that clung to the crags and crevices that snaked across the walls and ceiling. She had stood in that same market, on the Western edge of the town, just two days prior as she prepared a working party. They had begun stripping the stalls of whatever goods they held that hadn't rotted away after decades of abandonment.

Only, it wasn't abandoned.

Sound, deafening in its breadth if not its volume, hit her. Voices, all speaking around one another in dozens of conversations. Each word a ripple in the tsunami that crashed into her ears, despite none of the voices being louder than a conversational tone. All voices, save one.

"Excuse me!" A male voice called out over the din of the crowd, "I'm sorry, excuse me. Make way please!" 

The crowd around Catra parted, making way for a tall Magicat as he strode through the market, carefully maneuvering past vendors and shoppers alike. He was more than a head taller than Catra, who found herself at least a few inches shorter than most of the Magicats present, and had long brown hair that curled around his head like a lion's mane.

His fur was only a few shades darker than her own and his arms were lined with stripes not unlike the ones on her arms and legs. The feature that stood out the most, however, were his eyes. One eye a light green, and the other a soft blue. Heterochromia was rare, in fact she had only seen it in another person one time, in an old picture she had found in a desk not far from that market. She knew who that man was, he was the minister who took up the Mayor's office of Ainar.

Seval. 

That had been his name, written in the letters she still hadn't sorted through and scrawled in the photo album she knew Mila had kept after their little bout of urban exploring. He was an important figure, someone who could talk casually with the King of Brightmoon back when they had one. Someone who was, as far as Catra knew, in love with C'yra. The woman whose name Catra had stolen, and who had risen to be the leader of Halfmoon.

And he was walking through the crowd right at her.