Because the hearts of men are not pure, there is opportunity for the power bestowed on them to become twisted. Corrupted, fallen. I don't think this has to do with the idea of someone becoming more powerful. But shadow recognizes shadow. No one is innocent when they pursue an avenue to greater knowledge – not even you, my queen.

❂❂❂

"The Spell of Obtainment is difficult," Shadow Weaver heard her own voice say. "You must stay focused, though. Once we begin casting, we cannot stop."

The woman at the cauldron, thirty years old and staring at her apprentice with intense green eyes, had no idea of the hell she would soon endure. "Are you sure about this?" the boy asked. So innocent, so unaware of what he would do to her in only a few minutes.

"We need this power," the woman said. "It's the only way to protect our people."

Shadow Weaver gripped Micah's hand tighter, unable to tear her eyes away. The boy nodded; the lady poured an alcohol solution into the cauldron. "Do exactly as we practiced."

The apprentice knew how to perform the Spell – his teacher told him all she knew before they went to cast. As their fingers shimmered over the magic film on the cauldron, the surrounding rings of the Lunarium lit up, accepting their dual casting.

A power prism rested above them. Nine hundred Auxits' worth of magic, created to hold back the monster. The boy glanced over proudly at the woman, who smiled and touched her fingers together.

Hissing. Hissing...

Shadow Weaver inhaled, exhaled, her breathing heavy. She couldn't stay – the Spell would destroy her all over again, and she would relive every moment of its clammy touch on her body.

"Steady," Micah whispered. "I've got you."

The monster broke free. Shadow Weaver could feel every bit of terror emanating from the woman and the boy as it lashed its arms around his wrists. As he gazed with fear upon his teacher. Fear, and betrayal. "This – this isn't right!"

"NO!" the woman sobbed as he raced away. Every eye of the beast trained itself on her, and a whine exited Shadow Weaver's throat. Hands lashed around her – a cold that seared her wrists. As the ground grew further away, Micah's screams were all she could hear.

And the Spell raped her. It raped her through every cavity, every pore of her body. It tore her skin up, searching for every opening it could find: her ears, her nose, her mouth...even...even her private areas...

Shadow Weaver wept, dropping to her knees. Every pain was relived in that moment. No amount of power could numb the torment she was subject to; there was no one on the whole planet who understood the depths of her anguish...

The Spell dropped her to the hard floor ten feet below with a thump. But somehow, the woman survived. She staggered to the cauldron, spitting teeth into the water and staining it red with blood.

"Light Spinner?"

Her apprentice's terror came to her, but it was overpowered by her own. She rose. The conversation in which she blamed Micah was familiar – Shadow Weaver had relived it throughout her imprisonment.

She killed them all, except him. And she enjoyed it. Euphoria distracted her from the shock, the agony, the inability to process what had happened to her. The teacher lifted the boy up by her tendrils of shadow...

And found that she couldn't bring herself to kill him, too. So she touched his cheek. Wiped his tears, smearing his face with blood. Then she set him down and fled from the room.

✧✧✧

Micah bent down beside her, but Shadow Weaver pushed him away roughly, and he barely caught himself. "You had to run away, didn't you?" she snapped.

"I was only trying to save my life –"

"Of course, it's all about you."

"I didn't want to hurt you," Micah returned. "I was a child! What don't you get about that? I'd have gotten corrupted too, and you would have blood on your hands anyway. Could you have lived with my death?"

"It seems you found yourself a comfortable life through mine," she snapped. "But I'm a monster, aren't I? That's why you ran. Face it, Micah – you're terrified of me."

Indeed, panic raced through Micah's stomach. "That's not true – I want to help you. Come to Bright Moon – we can find a way to reverse the Spell!"

"So I can stand in your shadow once again? Be disrespected – feared – killed?"

"People will fear you anyway. I'm sorry, but that's the truth. How is Bright Moon worse than the Fright Zone?"

"Being turned in for war crimes, as opposed to being the queen warrior of the Horde? Being free to express myself, without risk of judgment?"

"What's more important to you?" Micah asked desperately. "Your precious freedom to destroy everything you touch, or –"

"You have no idea of the pain I've gone through!" she shouted. "And don't you lecture me about motives. You've been trying to kill me so you can be hailed as a hero."

"Then you might as well explain them." Micah retorted. "Because to me, it looks a lot like you never loved me at all."

Shadow Weaver flinched. After a moment, she lowered her tone. "You didn't give a single moon about me, even when I suffered for you. Why do you think I remained with them for so long? I had to prepare you for when my mind would decay." Her voice rose again. "But you don't care that your actions were the reason for my pain – pain that the Spell feeds on."

"That's not true –"

"Oh, please. My name was on-the-nose – you could have recognized me from a mile away, but it was easier to believe that I was an animal to be put down, wasn't it?" She stepped forward. "Even after I fought you all those years because I love you?"

With that, she turned to the side and unmasked to wipe her eyes. Micah gazed at her mangled face in horror. Her broken, dull eyes glistened with sorrow; Shadow Weaver barred her pointed teeth and showed off the huge deformity in her mouth. But the scars...moons above, they resembled teardrops in and of themselves.

I did this to her.

She wiped the tears away with her bare hands, avoiding eye contact. "My mistake," she muttered.

"Light Spinner," Micah said, "if you truly love me, you don't need to keep hurting me anymore. I can make the others see."

"I cried for help," she whispered, turning away, "but nobody came. And you're...too...late."

Shadow Weaver donned her mask; with a loud cry, she threw a bolt of dark magic at the wall. When it retreated, the stone was gone. Micah struggled to catch up as she bolted into the dark. He wasn't strong enough, not with his broken leg.

Shuddering, he levitated slightly, then pushed himself forward after her. Micah didn't need to put weight on his leg, and he could follow her wherever she was going.

I'm not giving up on you, Light Spinner. I have to find a way to undo my mistakes.

✧✧✧

Shadow Weaver stood in front of the Seraphite relic, tears streaming down her cheeks. She sucked power greedily; the rush of magic distracted from the trauma of the Spell.

Micah stood in the doorway, and she flinched – though Shadow Weaver shouldn't have been surprised. Micah would worm his way into her plans. He always found himself in places where he didn't belong.

"You don't have to do this," he said softly. "You don't have to let the Spell control you anymore."

"You're right," Shadow Weaver replied, her voice equally quiet. "I could allow you to control me, instead."

"Control you?" he repeated. She turned around to see sorrow in his eyes. "If you come back, I swear I'll never leave you again. But you have to let me right my wrongs."

With Micah in the room, Shadow Weaver hesitated. The pain grew more acute, as did her emotions toward him. The boy from Tropicilas. The sweet, funny child who loved to make her laugh.

What an optimist. "You presume me capable of goodness."

"Because it's true."

"No," Shadow Weaver snapped. "I have found true acceptance in the Horde, Micah. I'd been crushed, but I have healed. And now, I cast my own shadow."

She sucked in more magic, letting it fuel her spite. Then she took the relic, and screamed. A blinding light sang through her vision, and she crumpled to the ground, searing pain roaring through her head. The rod slipped from her fingers, and she felt a loud cry come from her lips, though the voice wasn't her own. Vaguely Micah's cry reached her ears, and she felt his hands beneath her back.

"Light Spinner! Light...Spinner..."

His voice grew faint in her ears. Is this all I'm good for? she thought vaguely. To be blinded by power...to hate my own friend...

"I see a way out," Micah said. "We can teleport, but you have to trust me. Okay?"

"I..." Shadow Weaver saw white. Pure white, with nothing else. Would she be blind forever? Would she be able to handle herself, out alone in the great wilderness, without her sight? She would undoubtedly be stripped of her position as the Horde's second...Hordak didn't tolerate weakness...

Seething, she grabbed Micah close. "Get us out," she hissed. "Now."

Micah said nothing. All Shadow Weaver could feel was the cool whisk of magic from his power as he teleported them out of the Seraphite tunnels.

❂❂❂

Did you know...

- I was originally going to separate Shadow Weaver and Micah at this chapter, but LunaTiel pointed out that I could use a few more chapters to develop Glimmer's character a little more. I agreed with her for that reason, plus I didn't want this to turn out exactly like "The Promise," although there are intentional parallels.

Tell me what you think...

- Will Shadow Weaver go back to Bright Moon with Micah? Why or why not?