CATRA stares up at Circe's temple.
It was made of pure white marble, held aloft with thick gold beams and surrounded by flowering meadows.
A stone fountain was set at one side, and a wide lake to the other. And a sculpture of the goddess herself sitting right in the centre.
Catra ascends the marble steps, caution in every catch of her heel.
She can sense the darkness on this sacred place. She can sense the bloodshed.
She steps over the threshold.
Inside, she can see a throne that towers over her at a breathtaking fourty feet. It's gilded armrests and diamond encrusted back gleam in the fading sunlight.
It's unsettling.
Catra's fingertips alight with gold, and she raises her hands so that they graze the tip of the entrances frame.
Immediately upon contact, the golden stardust races across the wall and roof.
It comes twisting down around the throne like a magical chain, pulsing with bright, brilliant power.
'Show yourself you fucking creep.' Catra growls.
There is a flash of blinding light, and Circe is perched on the throne.
Her complexion is pale and deathly. Her eyes weary and worried.
'Catra.'
'Circe. How nice of you to show up. Explain.' Catra's brow furrows.
'What is there to explain? The apocalypse is coming. And you must stop it.' Circe's gaze is pleading.
'But why is it me? Haven't I already fulfilled the prophecy? You promised me after the War of Nocturnia that I would get to live the rest of my life in peace. But now, you're balancing the weight of the universe on me. I need an explanation. Why is it me?'
Circe tenses.
'Catra. I'm sorry, I truly am. You were born to be a hero. A fate you cannot escape.'
Catra's eyes flare gold.
'Sorry for what? Exploiting my trauma to build up your hero? To raise me into a pig for slaughter? To push all your problems onto me?' Her voice is lathered with malice, her tone shot through with poison.
Tears well in Circe's eyesm
'No Catra, I'm sorry you were born. If you had not been so, then you would never have fallen beneath the weight of your life. I'm so exponentially sorry. But heroes were never made to be happy.'
There is a moment of thick silence.
Catra turns her back to the goddess, and makes to leave.
'Catra no! If you leave-' Circe lunges forward and catches her by the bicep.
'If I leave, what? You do not control me, Daphne. I am not your hero. I am not your apprentice. I am not your shiny trophy. I do not belong to you.' Catra's eyes darken.
A single, golden tear trickles down Circe's cheek, but she lets go, and Catra rushes from the temple.
The Empress cannot explain why tears prick at her eyes as she drops halfway down the steps.
Above her, a thick black sea of clouds brew a storm above Elisia.
Catra barely notices it through her mental predicament.
A feeling had been present since the fateful strike of midnight when Puca's final punishment had been commanded, a feeling that all of this, all her power over light, and sun, and magic, a feeling that had just been confirmed.
A feeling that she was the heart in the crux of it all. In the essence of the apocalypse. It began because of her, and that is why she must be the one to end it.
But she couldn't.
She is not a puppet to control. She is not an item to behold.
She wipes away her tears, getting to her feet once more.
She cannot end the apocalypse, but she can atleast try.
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Escaping Corruption (Seasons 1-3)
Fanfiction(Set in s3) (s1 of Escaping Corruption summary) Catra has been sent to Beast Island. But, when the storms around the island get a tad too violent, and she's thrown into the sea to drown, a mysterious duo save her. Adora strives to win. But when Ca...
