When Adora got back from the Crystal Castle after her encounter with Catra she was exhausted. It didn’t take her long to fall asleep once she crawled into bed.
Suddenly, she was standing in a pitch black room, like the room Catra had labelled the infinite darkness room back at the Crystal Castle. A spotlight clicked on above her and she spun around.
“Hello?” She calls
“Hey Adora,”
Adora spins around to look behind her but there was no sign of Catra. She tries to summon her shield just in case, but her sword is heavy, too heavy, in her hand, the tip feeling almost fused to the floor. The weight is excruciating so she lets go of the sword and it clangs to the floor, blinking out of existence.
A cool breeze blows by her legs and she realizes she’s still in her pyjamas. She shivers.
“Adora, Adora, Adora,” Adora spins around again, the bulb above her flickering and dimming to a dull glow. She could sense the emptiness around her, the pure nothing, and it made her uneasy.
“When are you going to admit,” Catra drawls “That even with your magical tiara and fancy golden hair, you’re still no match for me?”
Catras voice came from off to the left this time, as if she was circling her, but Adora still couldn’t pinpoint the exact source.
Weight settles on her shoulders and she grunts, rolling them.
“You care too much about me to hurt me, and that makes you weak,”
Adora feels a tug on her wrist and stumbles, turning to look at what had grabbed her, but finding nothing but blackness, cold and unforgiving. Adora tries to speak but this time, no sound comes out. Catra laughs and a tug comes on Adoras other wrist. She pulls at it but her limbs are heavy, her movements restricted.
“If you were truly a good friend, the nobel hero, the protector and defender you so desperately want to be, you wouldn’t have left me,”
This time, Catras voice is right in Adoras, the last few words slow and deliberate. Adoras knees buckle under the weight on her shoulders and she falls, her arms being tugged out behind her. She’s unable to move as her feet splay out to the sides and she’s sitting on the cold hard floor. She pants, sweating and tries to speak again, but of course, she can’t.
Suddenly, Catra steps out of the darkness in front of her. But its not her Catra, at least not the Catra she knew now. She was much younger, probably around five years old. Her messy hair mostly hid her ears as they lay back in uncertainty. Her tail was wrapped around one of her legs and her mismatched eyes were glowing in the darkness, vulnerable and full of fear.
“Adora?” She calls “Where are you?”
Adora so desperately wants to answer her, to tell her she’s right here, but her muscles aren’t working and she can’t even open her mouth to try. Tears roll down Catras face and she looks Adora directly in the eyes.
“Why did you leave me?”
She rubs the back of her hand across her cheek and as she’s doing it her image flickers, and adult Catra is standing before Adora. She lifts her hand, and Adoras sword appears in it. “Why did you leave me.” She repeats her face still wet with tears as she lift Adoras chin with the sword.
And then Adoras falling, backwards thought blackness, descending further and further through the gloom.
Just as she begins to feel like she’s never going to stop falling, she wakes with a start in her bed in Brightmoon, soaked in sweat, face wet with tears, the guilt crashing over her once again.