You and I know now Emeth Auctor's vision was likely referring to our plan to steal from the Heart of Etheria, but at the time, he believed he had found the answer – by rewriting the fundamentals of how sorcery works.

❂❂❂

Shadow Weaver was at her wit's end.

Hordak had given her many texts written by the ruler of his home planet about military tactics, and Shadow Weaver – secretly, of course – went to libraries in disguise and read even more. And yet, she still couldn't figure out an opening to attack Illuras. The city was bordered directly by the Whispering Woods, and Shadow Weaver had tried numerous times to bring soldiers with her. Yet half of them had gone mad each time; she needed every man possible to attack the golden city. The Horde no longer had the element of surprise on their side.

Sighing roughly, Shadow Weaver unmasked for a precious moment and let her ebony hair droop down. She gazed pointlessly in the small mirror that resided in her office. Nothing about her ghastly appearance had changed. An ashen complexion, marred with violet stripes that resembled tears streaming down her cheeks. Sunken, jaundiced eyes.

And of course, the enormous split in her lip, where a chunk of flesh had been torn out of her mouth. Shadow Weaver's fangs were visible even when her mouth was closed.

Shadow Weaver shut her eyes. She was only thirty-nine – if she hadn't been such a fool, she would have had a good twenty or more years before she started to lose her beauty. But it was...gone...

Every time she unmasked, a wave of despair crashed over her. Perhaps she deserved her scarring, after all she had done...

Shadow Weaver rubbed her exhausted eyes, then willed herself to look up again. The Spell's cravings roared through her system; she couldn't draw in nearly as much magic from the stone in her mask unless it was pressed directly to her head.

But Shadow Weaver fought against the pathetic creature Micah created within her.

She forced herself to smile. Small wrinkles turned up near her eyes as she did, but the split in her lips stretched – crooked, disgusting. Mother always told her people looked more beautiful when they smiled. Shadow Weaver refused to contradict Lydia – her mother had been perfect. But Lydia hadn't known that her daughter would grow up to be a monster.

Micah, she thought again, though she was so exhausted she couldn't muster anger at the moment. Why was I not worth it to you? What could I have done to make you trust me, all those years ago?

Did I ever deserve your trust?

Tears fell down her cheeks, tracing the raised outlines of her scars, and Shadow Weaver was thankful for the locked, windowless room. She wanted to focus on her tactical planning, but all she could think of was the boy from Tropicilas. The boy who had taught her how to love again.

She had to protect him from herself. Shadow Weaver couldn't let him suffer from his mistakes. Though she wanted to fade, she couldn't.

So Shadow Weaver wiped her tears and donned her mask again. The rush of magic reentering her system was a welcome distraction as she turned back to her tactics. But as she deigned to do so, an invisible thread pulled her from her seat. She suddenly felt as though there may be some hope for her yet.

Dare she hope?

Yes. I do. Nell's gray-blue eyes flashed through her mind. He was a brilliant man, and the kindest person she'd ever met. Three years ago, she had held knives to the throat of the man she'd once loved. He'd gazed up at her in horror. But perhaps, if she could just get his sympathy...

There was one more chance to save herself. One way to undo the Spell – by pursuing the man her body ached for even now, however foolish it may be. So she stepped up to the cauldron and placed her finger in the enchanted water, taking a deep breath.

"Show me," she said, imagining Nell's face.

✧✧✧

Nell woke up, his head throbbing. His body ached with spasms, and his eyes were puffy and swollen. He couldn't see anything, but he was laying on something soft. Groaning, he felt around him, the blurriness in his eyes an annoyance.

"You're awake," Micah's relieved voice called. "Oh, Nell – I'm so happy. You're not injured, but I thought you'd never come to!"

"How long has it been?"

"Um...twenty hours."

Nell's mouth dropped open. "I wasn't unconscious all that time, was I?"

"I don't know. You may have been asleep. Don't you usually do that during these episodes?"

He had a point. Sighing, Nell shuffled around. "Do you think Carmen was trying to incite the riot?"

"I don't think so," Micah said. "I think she just ended up in a bad situation. And she was right – the twelve moons are in my pocket. Not sure how they got there."

"Who knows? It's Carmen. Is she alright?"

"I don't know. She managed to escape in the ruckus."

Nell sighed. Exhaustion overwhelmed him, and he shivered in the bed, grabbing his glasses. "So...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have fainted – I reckon I just weighed you down."

Micah sighed. "I know the feeling. But don't get upset – if it's some sort of medical condition...you'll find a cure for it. But if you had a hard time, like Carmen did –" He stopped. "You look really uncomfortable."

Nell tensed up. Crushing his eyes shut, he shook his head. "I can't talk about it. Not yet..."

A pause. Then his friend spoke. "I understand," he said. "Some people aren't used to sharing their feelings. They were hurt in the past, have a hard time opening up."

He gave Micah a peculiar look. "Who are you talking about?"

"Her. Light Spinner." Micah looked toward the window. "You're both...sad. But still strong, despite it all. I think that even though your cultures don't get along, you would have made good friends." His expression grew more somber. "Maybe something more."

How much you don't understand. Nell looked at the ceiling. "If it makes you feel better, I'm honored. I know you loved her, Micah. And I'm glad to be your friend."

"Thanks, buddy." Micah frowned. "If only I could be worthy of the title..."

✧✧✧

Shadow Weaver watched the men from the window. Nell hadn't sustained major injuries, but she wished now that she hadn't sent Carmen to roam free here.

The riots ensued without her servant's intention. But Shadow Weaver had a bigger goal in mind – undermining the legitimacy of Micah's rule would hasten recruitment to the Horde, not to mention possibly divide the provinces of Bright Moon. Seeing as how every other kingdom save Mystacor followed Queen Angella and King Micah's council, fracturing the Meyan kingdom would be key to overthrowing their alliance.

Shadow Weaver regretted that their goal involved injuring people. But she'd stopped being a savior long ago.

"I just don't know what I'm going to do," Micah said softly from inside. "She's due to arrive any moment now."

Nell sighed, laying amidst his bedsheets. "If I'm not back when she comes, my apprentices can handle it. They've delivered before."

"No offense, but I don't trust them as much as I do you." Shadow Weaver's curiosity was piqued.

"Have you decided on a name?" Nell asked him.

"Glimmer," Micah replied. With a smile, he gazed away from Nell. "Our little glint of light."

Shadow Weaver's mouth dropped open. Micah...he's going to be a father! How had she been so blind as to miss this, so cooped-up in the Fright Zone that she didn't know her apprentice was going to have a daughter –

Shadow Weaver bit her lip. She couldn't afford to care anymore. She was not the weakling from Mystacor, but a strong, brutal Horde commander. Light Spinner may have loved Micah; that was well and good. Shadow Weaver did not.

Still, she could not dissipate the immense happiness in her stomach. He would know the love and joy of parenthood. That was something they had in common.

But Shadow Weaver had a job to do. So she backed away from the window, traveling home.

❂❂❂

Did you know...

- I was very disappointed when Shadow Weaver and Glimmer had almost no emotionally deep interactions in Season 4. I personally can't see a world where she didn't care for Micah's daughter at least a little.

Tell me what you think...

- What might be Shadow Weaver's opening to attack Illuras?