She-Ra: Broken Reflections (CH 1)

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Every version of Adora in the multiverse was the sort of person that’d work themselves to the bone, and this one was no exception. She’d been studying most of the day in the cold house, hunched over spellbooks she knew by heart and drumming her fingers on the countertop with the familiar, repressed desire to get up and move. Once again, she lifted her hands and took a deep breath. 

She closed her eyes, and reached outward, into the other place just below reality where all magic lay. Her fingers began to glow and she carefully began to trace the glyphs in the air with magic. Every rune had a different effect when charged with magic and she had to put them all together correctly to cast her spell. It was a bit like learning math or a foreign language, as with enough practice you could see how each shape informed the next. They wavered in time with her blooming headache but she gritted her teeth and forced her way ahead. 

This one crafts its shape, that one holds it… this one will tell it how to move… 

She did her best to picture the runes in her head, but they’d only appear for a second before she’d lose them. Adora could see the hazy outline through her eyelids, but they weren’t turning out as clearly as they were supposed to. She opened her eyes as the golden image of a puppy took shape. It was hazy and indistinct, but it was recognizable. She pushed the last of the magic into the spell and let it go, giving it its own life.

The puppy jerked to life, moving as the runes had instructed it to. Its pace didn’t match the speed the puppy was moving at, but it held its form as it walked all the way down the table's length. It began to clip through the table as it circled back toward her, and ended its journey somewhere near her knees.

Adora sighed and pulled out a worn-out box. It was heavier than it should have been and was the opposite of the uncanny realness most magic had, looking more like a rough pencil sketch in 3D. She slid open the lid and watched the puppy dissolve, the golden light flowing into the box like water down a drain.

Adora closed the spellbox and began to try again, but her head was killing her. The glyphs wavered with her concentration as she tried to remember the next glyph and hold the first one in place. Her head pounded and she lost the illusion entirely.

She groaned and finally let her head fall on the table. Light Spinner— her adopted mother— insisted that Adora would train herself out of losing concentration eventually. When you care enough, had been her exact words, followed by a sip of her wine. 

Adora fidgeted a moment before she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small plank of wood and her pocket knife. She’d been working for weeks on this side project, practicing different runes and having to start over from scratch when she put them down in the wrong order. Enchanting artifacts wasn’t as common of a trade as sorcery was, and not one her mother encouraged, but it was one that Adora was actually good at.

She pulled magic down again and drew it gently across the wooden surface. The carved glyphs lit up and began to give the magic form. A light shone down, colors shifted and a golden illusion of a puppy formed on the table. 

It didn’t look real, but in the same way most paintings didn’t look real. Harsh angular lines formed the illusion before the glyphs painted fur over them with the soft orange and yellows that Adora had chosen. She compared the block to the diagram in her book and very carefully carved a new circle. It lit up when she finished it, and small indentations appeared in the tablecloth under the dog’s feet to provide the illusion of weight. Adora smiled. She tapped one of the runes with her thumb and slid it forwards, prompting the puppy to begin walking. 

The light from the glyphs changed subtly as the dog moved, some of them keeping the prettier parts of the illusion connected to the framework underneath, and some measuring exactly what the ground felt like and adjusting its gait accordingly. Adora concentrated and pictured the puppy rearing up to sniff her cup of water. 

It did, and the glyphs added a small stumble to account for a wrinkle in the tablecloth. She smiled. “Good job,” she cooed. She let go with one hand to pet it, frowning when her hand went through its ear. 

Adora heard a weighty sigh from behind her and flinched. The dog disappeared and her hands dropped to her side. She wasn’t forbidden from having the controller but she still dropped her hands to her sides, hoping Light Spinner wouldn’t comment on it.

The older woman stared down at Adora with an expression that the girl believed could hold fondness. “Really,” her adoptive mother said, “Is now the best time to be building toys?”

“I wasn’t— I mean just now, but— I cleaned today and I’ve been studying!” Adora babbled. “I’m not slacking off, I swear!”

Light Spinner rolled her odd green eyes at Adora. “Never stammer, child. Determine what you want and then say it.”

Adora nodded and took a breath, saying, “I’ve been studying all day. Except for when I made lunch, and when I mopped the floors like you said. Oh, and I finished packing for our trip.”

Light Spinner nodded. “Good. Let me see your latest little device.”

Adora almost hesitated, but she handed it over without complaint. The block had been Light Spinner's concession; it was supposed to be a way of practicing the glyphs she needed to make an illusion, and she wasn’t meant to be putting so much time and effort into it. But it was easier to work on something in stages, having something she could actually make progress with had calmed her, and so the block made a spell that cast better than she could hope to free-handed.

If Light Spinner noted her nervousness she said nothing, merely pushing her magic through the block. It flared with purple energy as her greater strength caused a power surge. Adora had included glyphs to compensate for her mother’s power, but they didn’t work perfectly. The skeleton of lines shone through the puppy’s fur, making it look like a ghoul you’d use to scare small children. Adora hoped Light Spinner would think it was a stylistic choice. 

“Now,” the older woman said, “show me the fruits of your labor.” 

Adora nodded and raised her hands. She closed her eyes and pictured the glyphs in her mind, but, the moment she opened her eyes, the image began to slip away from her. She did her best, tracing out the set for the basic shape, and then the part that held it to this real world. She got the shape of the controls wrong (Again, she thought) but she didn’t have a way of fixing it without starting over. 

A glowing golden dog awkwardly shimmered to life next to the violet one Light Spinner had made. It hung a little above the ground as it walked around, but Adora couldn’t fix that without redrawing the glyphs. The comparison made it even worse; it looked like a stick figure sitting next to a masterwork.  Adora cringed, but she held the illusion through sheer will.

Light Spinner sighed again, and that was enough to dispel Adora’s concentration. “Honestly girl, I don’t know how to help you.”

“But—”

“Adora.” 

Adora closed her mouth with a snap.

Light Spinner held her head for a moment. “Adora,” she began again, in a quiet voice. “I’ve been patient. I’ve been understanding. I’ve done all I know how to help you. But you still won’t learn how to focus properly.”

“I’m doing my best—” 

“You always say that.” Light Spinner closed her eyes. “Things are changing for me. For both of us. I need you to get better at this before—” 

Light Spinner hesitated, and Adora leaned forward. “Is— is this about the trip?” 

“...Tell me what you know,” Light Spinner said slowly, “of the Sorcerers Guild.”

Adora would have sat up straighter if she wasn’t already so tense. Another test meant another chance to prove herself. “King Micah founded them after the then-titled Fright Zone withdrew from The Great War. They were able to broker a cease-fire between the kingdoms and currently deal with any sort of crisis around Etheria.” 

“Essentially,” Light Spinner said. “They’re allowed unprecedented freedom and respect. It’s where the best deserve to be. I have been… given consideration for their ranks.”

Adora gasped. “Mother, that’s incredible—”

“It isn’t yet,” Light Spinner snapped, her voice suddenly stern again, “Thanks to your… performance in school,” she pointed to the illusion block Adora had been working on for weeks, “It’s entirely provisional. I've been allowed to travel to the Light Zone and study the Black Garnet, and their decision will rest entirely on our performance."

Adora closed her mouth, opened it again, and tried to think of something helpful. “I’m doing my best…”

Light Spinner sat down at the table and regarded her daughter like a misbehaving pet. She reached out and held her face, her hands the only warmth in the room. “Adora, you aren’t a child anymore. I need more from you, dear.”

Adora flinched. Her hands curled and uncurled as she tried to think of the right answer.  "I’m sorry…”

“I know,” Light Spinner said. She got up and began walking down the hallway to her room. She hesitated, looking at the little wooden block she still held. “We’re going to travel to the Light Zone early,” she said. “Make sure you're ready.”

Adora held still as Light Spinner walked past her to her room. She stood still for a few minutes more before she looked around and realized that Light Spinner had taken her project with her. She’d planned to show it to her teachers, but now Adora wasn’t sure when she’d get it back. She sat down, glaring at the textbook. 

She groaned. Why isn’t there a spell to just— put stuff in my brain? Or would I get that wrong too? 

It wasn’t like people were mean to her or anything. Light Spinner didn’t want to be distracted by the other girls in Mystacor, but they were kind enough. The teachers at school largely ignored her, one or two even trying to lighten her workload but she couldn’t use pity.

Part of her wondered if it mattered or if she even could do better. She studied harder to drown it out.

---

In the Light Zone, Princess Scorpia was pacing nervously.

History Hall was empty as usual, though it would have been odd to see anyone there this late at night. Scorpia was strolling up and down the room, looking at the proud paintings that depicted her family history. Her grandfather had commissioned the place to display an edited version of their nation's history; but when he left, her mother Queen Lynda had taken over the project and the whole thing ended up much more honest than he’d intended. 

She’s done so many things, hasn’t she? 

There were only two paintings in here featuring Queen Mom: the one near the entrance that showed the construction of History Hall (which Captain Mom had insisted on), and the one spotlighting her Grandfather’s banishment. She wasn’t sure why it was her favorite painting, but she’d been obsessed with it when she was little. It showed her mothers, her grandfather, and Hordak. Captain Mom stood with her soldiers, armed with spears and stun batons. Before them, Queen Mom stood with all her power unbridled. Her lightning arched down, shielding the city from her grandfather’s army. 

Her Grandfather looked angry as he retreated, claws raised and tail uncoiled, but Hordak was almost serene. Scorpia frowned as she looked at the alien; he hadn’t left on good terms with her Grandfather or his forces. She’d always wished she could know what happened to him.

Scorpia sighed. She looked at her claw and began to practice with her magic, pulling in electrons and holding them in a perfect sphere before letting them safely drift away. Her grip wasn’t as tight as it should have been, and a red spark zipped the wrong way, down her body. She grimaced and tried again. Over and over, she pulled in lightning and released it, watching the sparks dissipate. Occasionally she lost her grip on the magnetic field, and while it couldn’t hurt her that wasn’t the point. She was still losing control, and if she didn’t have perfect control she wasn’t ready to be Queen, and that meant—

Thump!

A weight struck Scorpia’s shoulders, knocking her off-balance. She shrieked in surprise, letting the lightning slip the wrong way again. The lightning couldn’t hurt her— but the same couldn’t be said for the furry body that had clamped onto her back.  

“Yow!”

Scorpia whirled around and saw Catra lying flat on the ground, fur standing on end. “Ohmygosh I am so sorry!” She picked Catra up and looked her over for wounds. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“Lemme go, I’m fine,” Catra groused as she hung bonelessly in Scorpia’s claws. 

After a few more second’s worth of inspection Scorpia gave her a satisfied nod. She lifted her arms higher and dropped her adopted sister. Catra twisted in the air and casually landed on her feet, drawing herself up with as much dignity as she could find.

“Barely felt anything,” she lied. “Just wounded my pride.”

“Yeah, but that’s like, your whole personality.” Scorpia smiled. She’d worried about Catra a lot when they were little; her little sister's insistence on acting above pain meant Scorpia never knew if she was actually fine or just playing it off. Catra had grown up on the street— someplace Scorpia barely understood existed— until she was six, and it had taken Scorpia a long time to really understand her. 

It’d been worth it, though. Catra acted cool and aloof, but she was one of the most caring people Scorpia knew. She knew Catra was easy to embarrass; so rather than continue to fuss over her, Scorpia said, “Queen Mom said you went out after you finished your lessons. Did Gus have his dart toss booth open yet?”

“Yep. I won this,” Catra said, tossing a stuffed mouse to Scorpia. Her lob was high and slow, making sure Scorpia had time to catch it. Catra leaned against a column and crossed her arms, smirking. “You’re lucky you got anything; somebody cleaned out all the good prizes.”

“You did?” Scorpia smiled at her sister. “Aw, you gave them all away again, didn’t you?”

“It’s not like I had a choice,” Catra said, not meeting her eyes. Her ears twitched and her fur didn’t hide the blush as much as she liked to think it did. “I couldn’t have carried them all home by myself.”

Scorpia wanted to tease her sister about how cute she was, but ultimately decided to show mercy. She smiled at the mouse. “Aw, look at the little guy!” she said instead. “I’ll name him Matthias and he will be the defender of our plush citizens.”

Catra’s tail twitched in confusion. “Ma-what?”

“Ma-thigh-us! It’s an old Salinas name for, um…” Scorpia scratched her head. “Timely warrior? Because of a Matthias who saved the kingdom when it was under siege from the Scourge?” She gave a little smile. “Captain Mom had me study the founding of each nation again.”

“Yeah, I remember now,” Catra frowned. “Matthias means ‘Gift from something-something,’ or something. That was kinda fun. Why doesn’t she have me study it too?”

“You already know this stuff,” Scorpia pointed out, managing a neutral tone. Scorpia was older, the one next in line for the throne, and Catra had said more than once that she didn’t want to be shackled to a role with so many rules. Despite that, it really felt like Catra excelled at everything Scorpia was supposed to be learning— aside from magic itself. 

Instead of dealing with that, Scorpia carefully perched Matthias on her shoulder between the spikes on her carapace. “Is everything ready?”

“Pfht, yeah,” Catra said, “you guys barely gave me anything to do. Why’d you think I had time to clean Gus out?”

Scorpia nodded.  “How is Gus, by the way? Haven’t seen him all winter.”

“Ornery. Good as ever.” Catra crossed her arms and smiled. “I don’t think he’ll ever be any different. What about you? Castle seems like it’s all ready for the Mystacor dorks.”

Scorpia frowned. “I sure hope so. Queen Mom said everything looked okay.”

“Then it’s probably fine.” Catra walked over and put a gentle hand on her sister's arm, over one of the gaps in her shell where Scorpia could actually feel it. “You’re great at stuff like this. Besides, Light… quilter?”

Scorpia rolled her eyes. “Spinner.”

“Light Spinster is probably going to be just as nervous as you are. The last thing she wants is to mess up her chances of getting a promotion. Even if she didn’t like something, she wouldn’t say anything.”

“That won’t mean she wasn’t bothered,” Scorpia pointed out. “This is the first time I’m officially in charge of something, so I really need everything to just come together like it’s supposed to.”

“Everything will be fine—”

“Every adventure we’ve had,” Scorpia suddenly snapped, “has started with you saying that everything will be fine.”

“Yeah,” Catra said in annoyance, “because you need to hear it every day and things have to go wrong sometime. Look, you’re actually, provably really good at this, and I’m supposed to be in charge too, remember? If you miss anything I’ll get it.”

Scorpia sighed. “That’s not what I mean,” she said, “and it’s not ‘every day’ either, okay? Look,” she pointed at the line of paintings, “They were all great too, ya know? Shockeera, Boltius, Stingerella; they built so many big things, and then Hordak came and—” she sighed. “I just don’t want to be the weak link, ya know?”

Catra nodded. “It’s gonna be fine,” she said. “Our Moms stopped Hordak, because as long as you don't give up there’s always something you can do.”

Scorpia looked at the painting behind them again. “I guess you’re right,” she admitted.

“Of course I am! Now come on, I don’t want to miss dinner, and Mom will freak out if we’re late.”

Scorpia laughed as they started to walk away. “Well jeez, it’s not like we’ve ever wandered off before, right?”

Catra clawed at her carapace, barely hard enough to feel. “Okay, one: All of those adventures were totally unavoidable—”

“Totally?”

“Shut up. And two, given what we knew at the time—”

“Had considered.”

“Knew at the time,” Catra insisted. “They were all completely reasonable. And thirdly: we were fine, weren’t we? Like I said, there’s always something you can do.”

Catra walked ahead, arms resting comfortably behind her head and her tail calmly swaying behind her. Scorpia shifted her own tail uncomfortably but kept it coiled the way dignified ladies were supposed to. Catra had cheered her up, but she still glanced back at the painting of her grandfather, this time not thinking about how his reign ended— but how it started.

There’s always something someone else can do, too. 

She took a deep breath and shook it off. As long as she had her sister she could handle anything.

---

Light Spinner put on a happy face because even under the mask people could tell.

She shook hands and made small talk with the sycophants she worked with while watching higher-ranked members jealously. She didn’t want to bother them until she’d earned a rank equitable to them. Otherwise, Spinner would risk alienating what would be her peers. This limited her conversation partners to those who lurked beneath her while waiting for a chance to pull themselves up as she had.

Spinner did take a sort of perverse joy in watching her lessers mingle. They’d talk and pretend to befriend one another but secretly, any one of them would be as happy backstabbing their compatriots as they were extending a hand. It all depended on circumstance.

What made it so funny was the way they’d looked down on her for so long and for so many of the same things. The only real difference was that they were more powerful than Light Spinner; in fact, nearly everyone was. Every magic-user in existence had a limit to how much magic they could reach for, and there was no way to exceed that limit without putting people in danger. Spinner was weak, and every particle of respect she had was something she’d earned. 

“Light Spinner! I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

What vestige of pleasantness that remained left Spinner as she turned around. “Why, Castaspella! I didn’t expect to see you here. How’s your dear niece doing?”

Castaspella grimaced. “Oh, she’s lovely as ever,” she said, which Spinner took to mean that Glimmer had managed to blow something up again. “She’s actually about to travel to the Plumerian Wilds for a few months to get some experience in the real world with Princess Perfuma. I’m really happy for her; she doesn't have any close friends.”

“Charming,” Spinner said. “I’m sure those two will get along famously. Adora has been making excellent strides as of late in her own studies,” she added, which wasn’t technically lying.

Castaspella grimaced. “Yes, I… need to talk to you about her. Can we move somewhere private?”

Light Spinner frowned. “I don’t see why. Adora hasn’t done anything wrong? She’s an avid rule-follower.” 

“No, it’s…” Castaspella gleaned around the room and stepped closer. “About her test scores, Spinner.”

Light Spinner’s grip on her goblet tightened. “We’ve spoken about this before, I believe. At length.”

“You haven’t… exactly listened before,” Castaspella hissed. “And you need—”

“I don’t need the advice of someone who hates me for living my life,” Light Spinner snapped. “My daughter is none of your concern.”

Light Spinner turned around and stormed off, mood thoroughly ruined. Castaspella had always had it out for her, even before Micah had left her for that unnatural faespawn Angella to start a family. The woman ran the central academy of Mystacor and had insisted on letting Adora learn crafting and blacksmithing instead of focusing solely on spellcasting as Spinner had wanted. As if any daughter of mine should have to work with their hands…

Spinner felt a hand on her shoulder haul her around and realized that Castaspella had followed her. The woman was blazing with anger, mouth working for a few seconds before her words reached it and came out. “The students of my school are, in fact, very much my concern,” she said, viscously swinging her words like swords. “Especially when they have a parent more concerned with living vicariously through them than helping them!"

Light Spinner stared at the other woman in shock. Anger burned so brightly in her mind that the part of her brain responsible for speech simply melted. 

“And as for Adora,” the woman continued, as though she knew Light Spinner’s daughter better than she did, “she is an incredibly talented girl, and incredibly sweet, but she can’t conjure glyphs like Sorcerers need to, and that’s not her being lazy, that’s just normal. She can do a great many things, but she can’t be a younger you.” 

Castaspella hesitated, expecting Light Spinner to say something, but she was still gaping at the gall of this upstart half her own age. 

“She can’t get into the Academy,” Castaspella continued, “and it doesn’t mean she’s stupid, or whatever is going through your head—”

That finally prompted motion. Light Spinner stepped forwards. “How DARE—”

“And that is my final word on the subject!” Castaspella shouted. “Also, I don’t say this a lot, but as an actual member of the Sorcerers Guild, I’d appreciate it if you would, just once, assume I’m not trying to destroy you just because you sabotaged your own relationship with Micah, you utterly paranoid—”

At the exact same time, they both suddenly realized how loud they were being. Both slowly turned and stared at the rest of the party, which stared in return with the fascinated shock of people who are very happy to have received gossip first-hand. Light Spinner recovered first, pulling together what dignity she could and storming away. She heard the crowd erupt into eager conversation behind her, and her fist clenched. 

---

Her anger hadn’t quite cooled by the time she reached home, but it had been diluted by other thoughts. How much authority Castaspella really did wield, how much the other Guild members had overheard, and most gallingly the way her lessers had looked at her. 

She cursed Castaspella under her breath as she walked the empty streets. She’d had it in for Light Spinner for years, and now she’d seen a chance to take advantage of Adora’s—

What if she can’t do it?

Her mind was still reeling from the party, and thoughts would boil to the surface of her mind with no warning. Adora is powerful, but what if her mind can’t do what I need it to? She wondered against her will. Adora had incredibly mystical potential, but she’d never taken to sorcery as well as she had to crafting or forging or sports. It had been difficult to re-channel all that energy into important things, and she’d managed, almost...

She jerked her mind to a stop as she reached her home. It was once a grand tower, and while both 'grand' and 'tower' could be applicable, advancement in mystical architecture had made it obsolete. The interior was a maze of narrow hallways and awkwardly-sized rooms Spinner insisted were charming and there was far too much space for the two of them to keep totally dust and mice free. Newer towers would have multiple tenants and more advanced cleaning spells, but this one had the advantage of having its own laboratory while still being within her means.

She walked past it on the way to her bedroom, so lost in thought she almost didn’t notice the noises from inside. She paused, peering through the crack between the door and the wall. She was surprised to see that Adora wasn’t in bed, though she was clearly asleep. The spell she’d cast was gallivanting around without her, walking back and forth on the countertop. She silently pushed the door open and slipped inside. She watched the dog walk, paws touching the countertop now and occasionally sniffing random things like it had real lungs. It was an improvement; a massively impressive one.

It was something Light Spinner had been able to do when she was twelve. 

Light Spinner swallowed. She slowly reached out and touched Adora’s shoulder, shaking it. “That’s enough, child,” she said. Her voice sounded soft to her ears, but inside emotions boiled. None of them was anger though, so she gently shook her daughter's shoulder again. “It’s time for bed.”

Adora sat up slowly, frowning at the light. “I only closed my eyes…” she said. “I wasn’t--”

“You’ve done enough today,” Light Spinner interrupted. “It looks very nice,”

Adora stared at her. “Are you sure?” She asked. “I don’t--”

“I mean it,” Light Spinner interrupted. Adora looked so happy hearing that, and for some reason it made her ashamed. “You’ve finished, and you need your rest. It’s time for bed.”

Adora nodded and slowly stood up. Light Spinner studiously ignored how the girl’s body creaked and popped as she stood, giving testament to the work she’d put in while Light Spinner was at a party. I didn't even accomplish anything there, she thought dismally.

Her hand was still on Adora's shoulder, and she let it go. “You’ve worked very hard,” she added. Inwardly Light Spinner frowned at herself. Don’t say more than what’s needed to get what you want, she scolded herself. That’s the most important rule of conversations. If you don’t know where one is going—

Adora hugged her.

Light Spinner put one of her arms around Adora automatically, but the motion was so surprising enough to leave most of her frozen. Adora let her go and beamed, her smile like a bright sunbeam. “I won’t let you down, I promise.”

Light Spinner listened to her walk up the stairs, and only relaxed when she heard the door swing shut. She waved her hands, forming magic symbols in the air that first summoned a wine glass from the kitchen and then created wine to fill it. She took a slow drink, relishing the sweet taste. Her muscles loosened and she leaned against the table. A part of her wanted to drink deeper but she made certain to pace herself; the carriage ride to the Light Zone would be intolerable enough without a hangover. 

Her thoughts turned to herself when she’d been Adora’s age, desperate to scratch out a place for herself. She’d had nothing, and she’d had to bite and claw her way forwards to claim what she had, and it still wasn’t as much as she needed. Adora would have been capable of getting so much more, but—

Light Spinner had been down this road before many times, and it’d always taken her to the same places. Every time she started she’d try to find another fact or perspective, something that would lead her away from her mind's inevitable conclusion. Two thoughts stood tall in her head, declaring a pair of truths she couldn’t hide from. 

We deserve more, and we can’t get it.

She realized her cup was dry. She stared at the wine flagon for a long moment, considering whether she should fill her cup again, before reluctantly putting it away. Light Spinner pushed her hair back and looked in the mirror.

She was old. She was getting very old and didn’t have a tenth of the respect owed her. Worst of all; she was running out of ways to change that. 

After a moment's hesitation, she stood, then walked to her closet and opened it. Her hands brushed a nondescript section of the wall, which lit up with magic before fading away. It fizzled a little from years of disuse, and she resolved to go over the spellwork again to ensure it had not degraded. 

She reached in and withdrew the Sword of Protection. 

The sword hadn’t lost its shine in the years it had spent in Spinner’s closet, just like it hadn’t lost its edge from the centuries it spent on the forest floor where she’d found it. The brilliant blue blade caught what little light was available, looking more real the way all magic objects did. She concentrated, and her palm began to glow. She passed it over the blade in a slow, fluid motion, until the sword was covered in her magic. A simple glyph for searching appeared before she added elegant curves and swirls to refine it into a glyph of tracking and added it to a growing phrase of spells that spun around the sword. 

She held the sword up to eye level and released the glyphs, connecting her mind to the sword itself. Her thoughts tapped into an ancient network that connected the Sword with everything, with each Runestone and the artificial being that monitored the planet. Code and machine language was translated into form and faces in front of her until, in her mind, she was standing before a towering shell in the shape of a woman.

Light Hope stared down at Light Spinner. “It has been six thousand and eight hundred planetary cycles since we have spoken,” she said tonelessly. “Why have you elected to speak with me?”

Light Spinner’s fist curled. “I’ve come to discuss our... deal.” 

“Our deal was for Adora to gain the power of She-Ra as soon as she reached the proper age,” Hope stated, “in return for knowledge of the Heart of Etheria. You have not given Adora the sword.”

“You don’t understand how people develop,” Spinner said carefully. “She’s still not truly ready—”

“Then there is nothing to discuss,” Hope said. “When Adora has the sword then you will be granted knowledge. Why have you re-engaged contact?”

Spinner frowned. It would be both simpler and harder than usual to manipulate the machine. Everyone she’d ever met had a… point of leverage. A simple opinion or trauma or dream that she could invoke to persuade them.  Light Hope was an artificial intelligence and her mind was very centered on the purpose she was built for; making the chinks in her metaphorical armor fewer but easier to find. 

“I have concerns about Adora’s well-being,” she began. “One of my compatriots has complained about the way I care for her.”

“And what way is that?”

“The best way to ensure that she’s ready,” Spinner said shortly. “And I need to ensure that I don’t lose her. To do that I need to be of enough value that my wishes can’t be disregarded.” 

Hope considered that a moment. “Why have you come to me with this problem?”

Spinner didn’t let her satisfaction show. So long as she framed what she wanted as an obstacle to Adora achieving her destiny she had the machine. “I have been... forcibly assigned to study the Black Garnet. If I were to be given knowledge of it—”

“That is not the deal.” Her tone had barely changed, but her words carried more authority than normal. “You will give Adora the sword to bring balance to Etheria. Only then will you—”

“Adora won’t get the sword if you don’t help me!” Spinner snapped back. Hope froze, and Spinner pressed on. “Adora can only get the sword from me, remember? And if something happens to us then I’ll never be able to give it to her.”

Hope remained silent. Normally Spinner would stay silent and let the other person talk, but the computer’s mind worked differently than those of others. “I’m your only link to Adora,” she pressed, “you have to help me. I’m not asking for access to the Heart. All I want is to understand the workings of one of the Runestones.”

All she wanted for now. Spinner wanted to know everything that the First Ones had done to magic back when they ruled the planet, and the functions of a Runestone were a good start. If she could comprehend them, she’d be able to deduce more and more, and then she wouldn't even need Adora to open the Heart of Etheria for her. 

The hollow appearance of the computer flickered for a moment, and Spinner worried she’d somehow damaged it with her words. To her relief, the face before her solidified and nodded. “Very well. However, I must insist that you take the sword with you. It is too important to be left unprotected.”

Spinner frowned. “How am I supposed to hide a sword with my travel luggage?”

“The Sword of Protection has the ability to take on multiple forms,” Hope said. “I can grant you limited access to its functions and allow you to carry it on your person.”

Spinner’s eyes widened.She kept her voice steady as she replied. “Of course. I am… honored by your belief in me.”

A chance to examine the functions of the sword was far more valuable than some scraps about the Black Garnet. From what little she’d been able to determine, the Sword of Protection had some kind of authority over the other Runestones. Access to it could give her...

I could have everything.