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Fanfic #1: Rainbow
Fanfic #2: Tattoo
Fanfic #3: Evening
Fanfic #4: Purring
Fanfic #5: Leaf Pile
Fanfic #6: Sunset
Fanfic #7: Warm
Fanfic #8: Abandoned
Fanfic #9: Workout
Fanfic #10: Embarrassing
It's a Day 11 fanfic!
Why not have a glass?
Drunk
Shadow Weaver let herself slump against the crates, leaning against them for support. She sat. She needed to rest.
She looked down at her goblet, staring into the murky depths of the swirling red liquid, and cast her weary mind to reflect on what she had done.
. . .
Power.
That had always been her drink of choice.
From the first sip, she knew that it would be her constant passion.
It was a drink she had nursed all her life, gulping it like air in a drowning world.
Now, she realized that she had drunk it too deeply.
And the thing that she had pursued had finally caught up with her.
Now, she wondered if it would be worth what it had done to her.
. . .
The sorcerers had first shown her the power that she could wield.
Yet she had been denied the opportunities, time and again, to feel the satisfaction of true power. The power that called to her, that she knew she must have.
They helped to show her what was possible, but they were too cowardly to pursue it.
They knew what was at stake, but they were too weak and hesitant to rise to the occasion and face the danger.
The world was at war.
Etheria itself was threatened.
And it would take all the power she could gather to create the hero that could save it.
. . .
Light Spinner would never be that hero, for her ambitions were despised and her wisdom disdained.
She chose Micah for his purity, his insight, his strength, and his aspiration.
He could have been the hero, but he ultimately lacked the resolve and the courage to risk whatever it might take, his mind distracted by his affections and his doubts.
It nearly broke her heart to lose him.
, , ,
Shadow Weaver could not be that hero, for she was already too corrupt, too damaged.
She saw how weak the sorcerers had become and how blind they would be.
And so, she had broken her ties to them all, relinquished her home, and gave herself to the unholy alliance with Hordak.
Hordak understood power with a clarity and sharpness that appealed to Shadow Weaver. And the Horde gave her opportunities to drink more deeply of power than she ever could before.
It gave her the Black Garnet, through which she completed her transformation. It was the point of no return for her.
For the Black Garnet, with its technology and its magic, fed her thirst and made it grow. Until she could not live without the power it provided.
And yet, how could she stop? For she needed to have power that magnificent and terrifying, if she was to accomplish what she had started so long ago.
. . .
And the Horde also gave her Adora.
Oh, Adora . . .
Were you always going to be the hero that I required? she wondered.
I did everything I could to make this happen.
Regardless of whether it would end in your destruction.
For the sake of Etheria, was I right to do so?
. . .
It could almost have been Glimmer.
For a time when Shadow Weaver seemed to be losing Adora, she remembered Glimmer's strength and Glimmer's will. Her passion and the spirit to survive that allowed her to withstand being Shadow Weaver's prisoner in the Horde.
Glimmer was so like Micah, but stronger in her resolve and fiercer in her loyalty. If not for her stubbornness and lack of control, she might have been the hero in Adora's place.
. . .
But in Shadow Weaver's heart, she realized that it would always have to be Adora.
Adora had the desire. The resolve. The passion. The courage. The ability to give herself totally.
To be the hero.
And she would save Etheria.
Even if it destroyed her.
. . .
Shadow Weaver was old, worn ragged through years of drinking too deeply.
Of reaching too recklessly.
Of yearning too relentlessly.
She was broken.
And Micah was lost.
And Glimmer was desperate.
And Catra . . .
When she thought of Catra, she thought of herself.
She had pushed herself -- and Catra -- so hard.
And though she was not proud of herself . . .
She was so proud of Catra.
Catra survived, and she always would.
But Shadow Weaver would fade.
It had all been for Adora and the hero she had become.
. . .
Shadow Weaver looked into her cup.
It was nearly empty now.
Had it been worth it? she questioned herself again.
As she drank the last of it.
