⚠️ Trigger warning: this chapter portrays an autistic meltdown in graphic detail, including thoughts of self-harm. If that's not for you, I highly encourage skipping this chapter.

So, how did the Spell fail? The trouble, I have come to realize, is that men's hearts are not pure.

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Beck read to Carmen all night.

She listened to the words, translated on-the-spot into Kriesges. Carmen didn't have a lick of focus to take notes like Shads, but she wished she did. The information blurred in her mind. Amenity loves. One of her angels rebelled. There are seven virtues, and seven lacks. She leads the virtues. He led the lacks, who remained even after his death.

Hope, Love, Truth, Courage, Peace, Knowledge, and Faith. Naturally, Carmen compared these virtues to Kryteya. Hope – when did she have hope? She was destined for hellfire if she left or rebelled, and soul-sleep even if she was a good servant. Love – did Raiya love the Felali? Obviously not...

She had to physically force herself not to keep running down the list. But the Book of Seran – said to be written by ancient angels in direct contact with Amenity – had presented a challenge.

Love is absolute, and God is absolute, meaning he must be love. Without absolute love, a mortal is better than the highest power.

Carmen rose from her chair; Beck had fallen asleep over the book, her white hair disheveled. Carmen rubbed bleary eyes, too tired to think, but at the same time unable to stop.

Kryteya still held courage – it took great bravery to commit yourself to another person for the rest of your life, putting yourself solely in their hands. Her faith also had knowledge – stark awareness of one's failures. But most of all, it held truth and faith that God was wise enough to make his own decisions.

But what good were those virtues with mindless repetition? Was there any hope, any love, in Carmen's service? Or did she simply do it out of obligation, for selfish reasons – to avoid eternal damnation?

No...no... She sat in a neighboring room, reciting her prayers. Prayers in a language of empty words – prayers for forgiveness, prayers for strength. How could these be wrong?

Doing good is its own worship. Mother Seran asks not for songs, or offerings.

Repetition was familiar. Repetition had a rhythm, a pattern – something Carmen's mind naturally embraced. She sang and chanted louder, letting the words flow to her heart.

When she was finished, the Book of Seran left her head. Beck rubbed her eyes as she entered Carmen's room. "That was some of the loudest chanting I've ever heard."

Carmen blushed. "Sorry. Where's Tara?"

Beck shrugged. "Don't know. I'm going to get our other battalions out here, and see if Shads is back. Wanna go get her?"

"Sure." Carmen stretched, her mind plummeting into a strange depression as she walked down the hall. She shuddered, leaning her head against the wall. Why did she feel this way? She wasn't depressed often – it was only when she began thinking about Jibril...

Calm down. Remember what the folks in the hospital said. Deep breaths, head high, count your steps. Carmen fell into another rhythm, whispering the numbers to herself, keeping her mind off her sins.

Five, six. Seven, eight. Nine, ten. She marched as if on a battlefield, imagining her lady was there; she could feed off of Shads' strength and brashness if she started feeling small.

She entered Tara's room; the Silaxian was not there. Her bed had been stripped of its sheets, her uniform strewn on the ground. All her belongings were gone. Carmen bent down and picked up a sheet of paper. In Ramish, the woman had written a message to her, using nearly-illegible handwriting.

Carmen

I'm sorry. I had to leave. I know you have some sort of religious duty, but I don't. And I'm tired. I'm tired of Hordak and Shadow Weaver throwing our troops away left and right in this useless war. I'm tired of not being able to explore. Most of all, I'm tired of the abuse our cadets go through.

I've gone away – where, I can't say. I don't trust you not to hunt me down. I'm going to find a way out of the Horde's grasp, somewhere they won't follow me. By the time you read this, you won't be able to trace me. Don't try.

There was no signature, but Carmen knew it was from her friend. A feline growl ripped from her throat, and she shredded the note, rocking back and forth as tears poured down her cheeks. She struggled...struggled...

She couldn't stop, couldn't keep herself from crying...

"Carmen?" Beck said softly from the doorway. "You alright?"

Carmen couldn't stand; she had never realized what Tara meant to her until now. "She's gone, Beck. Gone...she left...she left me..."

Beck tilted her head. "Hey, chill out. You still have me, your kiddo, and your lady. And Little Miss Adora, too."

"That doesn't matter!" Carmen yowled, tears streaming down her face. She felt like she would pass out. "You can't just replace her, Beck!"

"If she left you, she's not a true friend."

"She just found somethin' better."

"Carmen –"

She couldn't bear it any longer. Carmen's fists collided with the glass, and the window before her shattered, shards flying into her skin and cutting her face. She gripped the broken pieces, the pain bringing her to reality...

"Carmen, you're having a meltdown. Please, stop!" Beck pried the glass out of her hands, but Carmen was numb. She slammed her face into the wall instead. Maybe if there was enough pain, she would wake up from this nightmare and Tara would come back.

Beck was silent for a long time. "Carmen, I have something for you."

Carmen wiped her bloody hands on her face, red stinging her tearstained eyes as she kept crying. In her hands, Beck carried a ball of yarn. "You're not just a cat. But I found this in your bag. You like playing with it, right?"

Carmen sniffled; her ears still rang from the impact of the broken window, and the room was suddenly too bright. Silently, she took the yarn, avoiding Beck's eyes.

Beck led her out of the broken glass. "Here, let's get you somewhere else. One of my former friends – he had breakdowns too, and he needed to be somewhere dark and quiet so he could sleep."

Carmen wiped her nose, wrapping the string around her hands as she timidly stood. She trembled as Beck led her to another room, windowless, with a bed. The other Force Captain watched her silently as Carmen fiddled with the toy, avoiding eye contact.

Finally, Carmen spoke. "I gotta go back to the Fright Zone."

"I understand," Beck said softly. "I can handle things while you're gone. You need to recover, spend some time with the kiddos."

"Did...did you get any word on Shads?"

Her friend sighed. "Nope. She's still on that weird mission. Maybe she's just...gone."

"She's strong. She'll be awright."

"I hope so," Beck said. Carmen gripped the yarn close, imagining that it was her little Catra. She had to go home to recover, to rest. And while she was there, she would get to spend quality time with her daughter and Li'l Miss Adora.

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Did you know...

- I wanted to insert at least one scene of a felinetta acting like a cat, since we often get hints of that in the show from Catra's point of view.

- This chapter was based on my own experience with meltdowns and abandonment. Sometimes it feels like the entire world is closing in around you.

Tell me what you think...

- Is Zeka's deception in this chapter necessary? Why or why not?