Art: "Alura Reimagined" by CtheTtheG

Music: "Childhood Anew - From XTale OST" by NyxTheShield

Magic can be used for incredible good...or unspeakable evil. Evil itself is something you may not think I believe in, but you would be wrong. I simply believe that people mislabel me. For my situation is more complicated than they would feel comfortable believing.

❂❂❂

As she traveled in an armored vehicle across the desert, Zeka decided she hated this mode of transport. The cargo hold was positively cramped, smashing her against the wall near a bundle of expensive war equipment.

General Micah had taken her to the eastern border of the Whispering Woods a week ago – told her to wait for a supply crew to take her to the Horde. If this was what he meant, Zeka hoped the poor man never found out what she'd gone through getting here. With a grunt, she shifted her new disguise slightly so she wasn't quite as beefy; she could reverse that once she arrived.

Zeka rehearsed her cover story. My name is Beck. I'm joining the Horde because the Valley of the Lost was overrun by gangs after the Horde toppled the Tropicil kingdom. I'm thirty-one, used to be a cloth weaver, and don't have a family.

Most of the backstory was true – Lariel, her parent, had perished when Clerbélia was sacked. The only lie was that Zeka had been a cloth weaver. She could only wish she'd taken that job, instead of dealing with constant betrayal from her friends in the Rebellion.

She'd had to memorize new speech patterns for her stay in the Horde. People from the Waste talked with gruff, short sentences and simple Southern-Ramish vocabulary. Zeka's accent, verbiage, and tone were all based on aristocratic Scorpion dialects, which she'd carried over when she learned Meyan in the Rebellion. It was fun to talk like a queen.

Now, she wished she'd never learned Meyan. That she'd never understood Nell's request.

The armored vehicle jolted to a stop; Beck shot up and reformed her muscles. The door opened, and she squinted, expecting blinding moonlight. Instead, smog tinted the moons orange instead of their natural pale pink, and the sky was a dark crimson – almost like blood.

She inhaled. My name's Beck. I am a Horde recruit. I will work my way up the ranks – it is my duty.

The Force-Captain at the helm hummed softly, rocking back and forth on her heels. She was a felinetta, a small woman with the tanned skin of her race and short, feathery brown hair. Flipping out a comm, she spoke in a foreign language to someone on the other end.

The felinetta put the comm away and addressed Beck. "You speak Meyan?"

"Uh...yes." Beck struggled to adjust her speech patterns to something less refined. "I'm from the Crimson Waste. The name's Beck."

"Beck, daughter of...?"

"Luz," Beck said quickly; it would do, for Luz Fría had been her home city in Tropicilas before she'd fled for the Waste. "Of Tropicilas."

"Uh-huh. The name's Carmen," the felinetta drawled, giving her a sweet smile. "I take orders from Hordak's enforcer, Shads."

"Shads?" Beck giggled. One heck of a nickname, that's for sure.

"Well, it ain't her real name," Carmen said, touching the back of her head sheepishly. "Just what I call her."

"Gotcha," Beck said. "So, where do I go to begin my training?"

"I'll take ya," Carmen said, giving a wide grin. She had dimples; how adorable. "I've only been here 'bout five years'r so. Same time I've been servin' under my lady."

"Oh?" Beck said, her interest piqued. "Five years?"

"Yeah, five years," Carmen said with a shrug.

"You like it here?"

Carmen paused. "I dunno," she answered bluntly. "It don't matter, really – I serve my lady. So long as I'm in service to her, I'll be happy."

But her gestures betrayed her; Carmen walked a good distance away from her, arms folded over her small bosom. Beck knew all too well that gait, unfortunately. The steps of someone who'd been hurt before.

✧✧✧

At a Vernish restaurant, Nell and Micah waited for their meals. Nell ran a hand through his hair. "So, what happened to you while I was away in Thaymor?"

Micah sighed. "A lot. I can't explain all of it in public."

Nell frowned; that was ominous. "What can you explain?" he inquired.

"Well," Micah said, "I met a Horde commander in the Whispering Woods. She goes by the name Shadow Weaver, and uses dark magic." He tapped a finger on the table. "But...she helped me. Twice."

Nell tilted his head, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Do you think she's a spy from the Tropicil forces?"

Micah shook his head. "Unless you think Angie would let a Fulminate into the Rebellion. The Lady's...strange. And you want to know the weirdest part?"

"Could it get any more odd?" Nell chuckled a bit.

"Yeah." Micah lowered his eyes. "She's the same masked woman we saw at that dinner party a few months ago."

Nell frowned, sitting back. That was strange. Why would Shadow Weaver show her face as a Horde commander? Well, I suppose it's not her actual face, he thought. If the Horde's second had a secret alias, she could always do her hair and take off her mask, and it would be easy to walk around undisturbed in rebel territory.

Micah sighed. "We did something about it, but I can't say what. Not here."

Ah, Nell thought. A spy. He nodded as the waitress brought over pasta and vegetable soup. "Thank you, my lady," Micah said kindly to her; she blushed a bit at the gesture from the queen's fiancé.

Nell sighed. "How are you faring, what with the dark magic?" he ventured as he took a sip of the soup. Too hot; he wiped his burning lips on a napkin.

Micah held a strange sparkle in his eyes that mimicked that of his teacher, Light Spinner. Nell's dear, sweet Alura. "It's...not pleasant," Micah admitted, taking an absent bite of the pasta as the glitter dulled.

"Care to explain?" Nell didn't necessarily want to hear about Micah's experience with dark magic. Five years had passed, and he was only just beginning to process his ex-fianceé's swan song. Nell's hand tightened around his spoon, his stomach churning with sharp pain like he'd swallowed thorns.

But instead of responding, Micah gave a halfhearted shrug. "It's nothing. I want to focus on what we're going to do about Ruta. We're going to need some strategies going in. And..." he blushed. "I kind of want to bring Angie with me."

"Why's that?" Nell asked, tilting his head. But instead of answering, Micah's face flamed so red Nell might have mistaken him for a poppy. Ah...she showed off her charm.

Micah laughed sheepishly, then leaned back and slouched in his chair. "I can't think of a time I've gotten less sleep," he admitted. "I'm just...so exhausted."

"I understand," Nell said gently. "I won't press you on anything, but you need to rest."

Micah shook his head. "I can't. Not now – Shadow Weaver's planning something big, and I have to be there to stop her. Haven't you seen the casualties? She's...I mean..." He trailed off, clenching his fists before slumping back again.

Nell knit his brows together. "I understand," he said gently. "We do need to stop her, and figure out what the Horde's planning. But you don't have to do it all by yourself. Trust me – that never works out well."

The words burned like poison on his tongue, and he bit down hard on it as he stirred his food again. "I know something about what you're feeling...sort of. Being a field medic is never fun - you have to make sure that no one dies beneath your care." The image of Arlina's soft, sad eyes flashed in his mind, and he gripped his spoon tighter. "And sometimes, you don't succeed even then."

Micah's eyes were downcast. "Looking for support here, Nell," he joked halfheartedly. "But I need some tips. How do I avoid embarrassing myself in front of Ruta?"

"I'll come with you," Nell said. "Mum and I visited her a lot growing up – she knows me." Please, don't ask about the rest of my family, he added in a desperate thought. Micah didn't need to know. No one could know...

But Micah just smiled softly. "Could've used that information earlier. Can you come with me to Dryl? I'm going soon to negotiate with King Xenio, because Ruta said she wouldn't consider our offer unless he joined the Rebellion."

Nell placed his chin in a hand, lowering his voice. "Mike, the Rebellion's intel is picking up some evidence that an attack on Delvala might be taking place. I don't want to alarm you, but I may have to stay behind."

Micah cursed under his breath and ran a hand through his unruly black hair. "Seriously?"

"You were there," Nell said, knitting his brows together. Pity for his friend sprouted in his chest - it wasn't Micah's fault he had the attention span of a goldfish. "It's okay. We'll face the threat together, and then we'll get through to Ruta. We're going to succeed."

Micah's mouth twitched into a sad half-smile. "Thanks, bud. You're a good friend, y'know."

Nell frowned, looking down. "Thanks," he said. If only that were true. Because he was too much of a coward to tell Micah the truth about all he was.

❂❂❂

Did you know...

- I wrestled a lot with how to portray Carmen's abuse in a way that wouldn't be triggering. I tried to be honest about what she went through while also not being too graphic, and I think this worked out fine.

- Zeka's character arc was a fairly controversial writing decision among my betas, and against some better wishes, I decided to write it in a certain way. It may be a little mature for younger readers, but I don't think it crosses any age-rating lines.

Tell me what you think...

- What do you think Nell's request to Zeka was?

- Will Shadow Weaver's lie about her identity will last? Why or why not?