Five years have passed since Emeth Light Spinner cast the Spell of Obtainment and was presumed dead. But little does the world know that she survived, and lives on as the dark sorceress Shadow Weaver. As the second-in-command of the Horde, she has b...
Note: This chapter contains a reference to suicidal ideation. If you're not able to handle that, skip this epilogue.
Dear Mother,
Eleven years have passed, but I can finally feel emotion again. I must recount this story to you, for I neglected to write you all this time in my foolishness. I believe I'm a witness to a miracle.
I lived under the Spell for so long. Some days I could feel care for Adora; some days, I could not. Still others, madness occurred despite the doctors' attempts to stabilize me. Nevertheless, I trained Adora and Catra to be strong, and I have succeeded in this manner.
They claim I broke them, but I have done so to ensure they won't suffer as I have. I was a naïve young woman, trusting and hoping someone would eventually love me. What silly dreams – I have realized that one must be harder to survive.
Adora has somehow achieved an attitude of true strength while still being herself. She fled from me one day when I least expected it, and...Mother, I know you would laugh, but she is the She-Ra. Adora is the mythical savior I once scorned. Afterward, she joined my enemies, to which I responded by sending Catra to retrieve her. The foolish child failed, of course. So I went after Adora myself. She still refused to return.
My little girl. My Adora, all I have left of Micah, abandoned me too. Is this not proof of my earlier words – that everyone would?
Eventually, Catra deposed me. She locked me in prison without any power, but without it, my mind cleared. I was able to think again. And I remembered Micah.
All the grief of eleven years weighed upon me. I wanted to die. I wanted to be rid of the Spell – without it, he wouldn't have perished. He, my best friend, my child. But it was Catra who got me here. It was Catra who ruined my life.
So I left her. I gathered enough power and teleported all the way to Bright Moon. Such a rash action would have killed me if not for one fact: Adora healed me. Somehow, her magic manifested not only into Medicancy but a force that could bind wounds. A passion that could cure illness with love strong enough that she unraveled Hopelessness itself.
The Spell is reversed. I am free. And so I sit in my prison chamber, writing to you. I told Adora that she was not from this world. But, moreover, I warned the Alliance that the end is at hand. Hordak is close to finishing the portal and will use it at any moment.
I have done my duty. Adora has gone to seek answers about who she is, and I support this journey. Because not even I, her mother, understand who she truly is. I feign that I do, but it's a lie I'm used to telling.
The years have been cold. Though free and safe with the Alliance, I will stop the Horde on my own terms. I will kill Hordak with my bare hands if I must. You may ask why I pursue such a dark path, Mother. The answer is simple.
The only one who could have made me a better person – Micah, the boy from Tropicilas – is dead. And that fact will mar me till the day I join him.
– Shadow Weaver
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