Chapter 2

The castle of Emperor Belos sat in the heart of the Boiling Isles – a foreboding, dark place of fire, brimstone, and barely restrained magic. A smokestack like pillar rose from the heart of the castle, loosing thin streamers of flames and soot into the air periodically, while the fluttering banners of the Belosian Empire caught the hot breeze and shifted against the walls. The guards of the Emperor’s Coven stood at attention at the gate, and patrolled along the walls.

Within the castle’s corridors, there was one creature who was one step below Belos in terms of power, influence, control.

Said creature kept a secret, buried deep inside her tiny head.

The next step after one remains zero.

Kikimora tented her fingers.

Well, maybe a fraction could-

The front gates of the castle opened with a roaring crash and the Golden Guard came stomping in, her tail dragging and her mask off. Her face was splattered with muck, mud, and bits of stringy bile, while her short cropped hair was stringy with a kind of thick, cocoon like substance. She growled and tugged at some of it as she started to walk down the corridor, clearly about to pass Kikimora without noticing the tiny demon was there.

“Ahem.”

The Golden Guard sighed, then glowered down at her. “Yes, what?”

Kikimora narrowed the one of her eyes that was visible – her hand-hair remained clasped around her head in a sweeping curve of flesh, concealing a good portion of her face, while her high collared robes did for the rest of it. The Golden Guard scowled, then stood a bit straighter.

“Yes, what is it, Kikimora?” she asked, her voice not even approaching respectful.

“You were out on patrol. Now, you’re three hours behind schedule and covered in slime.” Kikimora frowned behind her collar. “Explain yourself.”

“Sometimes, teen girls like me just love to roll around in muck for no reason, Kikimora, check on Penstagram, everyone’s just wild for it!” She waggled her hands mockingly as she started to stalk away, her shoulders hunched and irritated.

“You ran into The Owl Lady, didn’t you?” Kikimora asked, her voice smug as she walked after Catra. “After so much braggadocio-”

“Someone’s been in the dictionaries,” Catra muttered under her breath.

“-and you have nothing to show for it. What would the Emperor say, if he was to hear this.”

“I don’t know, Kikimora,” Catra said, then turned and glowered down at her. “What would Lilith say if she heard that you were trying to interfere in Emperor Coven business?” She smirked, slightly. “Last time I checked, Lilith was in charge. You run bureaucracy. Not covens.”

Kikimora narrowed her eyes. “You presume much, Golden Guard.”

Catra snorted. “And you talk too much, Kiks.”

“Don’t call me Kiks!” Kikimora growled, but Catra was already stalking off – flicking a bit of slime she picked from her hair and straight into Kikimora’s face.

The urge to rush off and tell Belos was overwhelming. But Kikimora forced herself to wait. Be patient. There were other ways to get her revenge on the arrogant, stuck up foundling that Belos had showered with such acclaim. She had been welcomed into a Coven, without even casting magic properly. Kikimora shook her head.

I have a better way to get revenge... She thought. All it takes is a stamp.

She, in fact, went to her office, pulled down the papers, hummed cheerfully as she started to white out the large REJECTED word in the box. Once she had finished, she examined the papers closely, to make sure everything was just as it should be. She nodded, then brought her stamp down with a huge whump. Green text – APPROVED – snapped up in the box next to the picture of a smiling, white haired demoness who was trying to wave at the camera midway through getting her coven ID picture taken.

Kikimora, behind her collar, smirked.

Her eye shifted to the other paper, which had six different REJECTED red marks on it, several printed across the witchling’s face so that the only thing visible was her bright purple hair.

A light touch, she thought to herself. A light touch is what is needed for Catra.

Then she grabbed the other paper and started stamping APPROVED over every single red mark, cackling to herself as she applied her stamp with malicious will.

Catra stood in the shower, watching the last bits of grime and gunk slide off her body and down the drain. The pouring, hot water – spelled into existence in the basement of the castle and pumped through pipes of brass and steel – continued along her shoulders and soaked the base of her neck. Her clawed fingers dug into the tile wall as she clenched her teeth. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She would not cry.

She would not let Adora Grey make her cry.

She refused.

Why can’t I have anything? She thought. Six years. I had six years, clawing my way into a real life, and Adora comes in ... and she ... she... She closed her eyes. Adora didn’t have anything. She’d been clinging to the back of the Owl Lady’s staff, like some ... some rube. Some total mark. Catra brushed her fingers through her hair, sighing as she felt the pulsing, pounding rage at her temples subside, as she felt the thumping in her chest slow.

Adora is not going to win this.

She nodded to herself.

No. I’m going to win this.

Six years. Six years and she had been back at the camp again, looking at Adora’s face. The memories were murky, and full of confusion – things skipped around, the color was always washed out, sometimes the voices were muted and distant. It was hard to remember anything before she woke up in the hospital, the Emperor kneeling beside her, asking her where she had come from. She had thought, at first, that he was just a weird Jesus freak – but slowly, she had realized he had no idea what or who Jesus was.

That...

That he’d never hurt her.

He had taken her under his wing. He had shown her magic, and he had been so ... so impressed with how quickly she understood it. Those early lessons, it had been as if the world itself was falling over to teach her, and the whole way, she had cast every spell with a fierce, abiding joy.

I can do it. And you can’t, Adora.

She turned the water off, then grabbed for a towel, her claws blindly scrabbling outside of the fogged glass that blocked off the shower.

“Here ya go!”

She snatched the towel from the helpful wall hanging that had shifted clos-

“WHA!”

Catra leaped and landed on the very top of the shower, her feet planted on the corner edges of the stall, her back almost smashing into the tile roof. She swung the very thick towel around herself to somewhat protect her modesty, and glowered down at the figure standing in the bathroom. It was a public bathroom – one of the showers used by the Emperor’s Coven after missions, but she had made sure every single freaking member of the Coven, Lonnie, Kyle, Rogellio, all of them, that she was never, ever, ever to be disturbed and because she was the Golden Guard, they freaking listened.

The woman standing in the shower wore the uniform of the Emperor’s Coven.

But Catra didn’t recognize her.

She was tall, taller than even Lilith – and unlike Lilith, she was as broad as she was tall, her muscular body filling out the uniform like a champ. She had a wide jaw, black lips, white hair, and a completely poleaxed expression on her face. Her arms ended not in hands, but demonic claws, and a scorpion tail whipped up around from her back, hanging over her shoulder.

“Whoa!” she exclaimed. “Where’d you go!?”

“I’m up here, idiot!” Catra snapped, then hopped down off the shower wall, landing behind her, scowling as she swept her towel tighter around her body. The girl turned to face her – then blushed. Hard. She looked up and left, rubbing the back of her neck with one claw. “What, you’ve never seen a girl before?” Catra’s voice dripped acid sarcasm.

“Not a girl as pretty as you, no!” The girl exclaimed, her cheeks burning. “I mean, did I say pretty? I meant ... intimating! And ... and scary! Hoo! Uh! I’m ... I’m really not ... this ... my name is Scorpia!”

“Wow, did it take you all week to come up with that?” Catra snapped before she could stop herself. The Boiling Isles convention of naming people stuff that was extremely obvious, especially held true among demonic members of the Isles, sometimes made her human born sensibilities rankle.

“But aren’t you Catra, the Golden Guard?” Scorpia asked.

“ ... why are you here!?” Catra asked, glowering at her.

“I’m your new second in command, sir! Ma’am! That is, uh, Cat’am! Ca ... ca ... M ... Ma’m, I’ll stick with Ma’am, Ma’am is ... is...” Scorpia tapped her claws together as Catra gaped at her.

“Who says!?” She exclaimed.

“Oh, the transfer papers got stamped today, sir!” Socpria said. “I rushed on over, then I asked that big lizardy guy-”

Catra scowled, then threw her towel aside. She started to yank on her uniform as Scorpia’s explanations trailed off into a confused stammering ‘buahm ... bhah ... uh... ‘ - but then Catra was out the door of the shower, and Scorpia was following after her. She shook her head. “W-Wow, you’re brave. I’ve never met anyone so fearless!” Scorpia’s eyes shone. “Is that why you’re the best of the Coven? I should be taking notes!”

Catra ignored her as she headed for the offices near the back of the barracks. She pushed the door inwards with a crash and stomped in. “Titandamn it, Lilith, what the heck is this!?” She thrust her palm at Catra.

Lilith Clawthorne, the head of the Emperor’s Coven and one of the most powerful witches on the Boiling Isles, did not even have a single hair out of place. The entire office could have exploded and she would have been entirely placid in the face of Catra’s anger. She looked from her to Scorpia, then back to Catra. “Ah, Kikimora has approved the transfer,” she said, her voice dry. “Took her long enough. Though, I was expecting one of the other candidates.”

“Oh...” Scorpia looked unsure.

“Guard Scorpia, it’s quite all right. You would not be up for consideration if you weren’t of value,” Lilith said, standing from behind her desk. “But Catra, the Emperor and I have been in discussion for some time – your independent operations are impressive ... but you’re beginning to run up against some of the most dangerous criminal elements on the Boiling Isles. Pirates. Demon Hunters.” She paused. “My sister.”

Catra repressed a shudder. Not so much at the memory of Edalyn ... more...

That hideous tube.

Lilith pursed her lips. “It was agreed you would need some, to be blunt, muscle.”

“Oh, that’s me! I got loads of muscle,” Scorpia said. “We scorpion demons have the proportional strength of ant demons! Which is a lot, let me tell you, sir! Ma’am!”

“Quite,” Lilith said. “And, furthermore, I will not be the head of the Emperor’s Coven forever.” She smirked. “And when I am gone, you will need to prove that you have the ability to command. The ability to lead. The ability to plan, and direct, and manage logistics, and all the other things a coven head does.” She said, reaching out and placing her hand on Catra’s shoulder. Catra flushed – then what Lilith said actually penetrated. Her jaw dropped.

“M-Me?” she whispered. “Head of...”

“Not for a while, no, I am not quite an old biddy yet, but...” Lilith chuckled. “I figure after my sister has been captured, we’ll have a lot to do...”

She shrugged.

Catra blushed, then looked at Scorpia, who was trying to look like a big old ... puppy dog. Catra sighed. It feels weird being the only person who gets Earth references, she thought.

“ ... fine,” Catra said. “But if you slow me down, you’re dead.”

“Wow!” Scorpia exclaimed. “This is a way healthier work relationship than I expected.”

Catra sighed. “I can handle one annoying under-”

The ceiling lights flickered. Lilith frowned, lifting her brows as she looked up at the ceiling. “Something is wrong,” she said, quietly, then gestured with one hand. Catra nodded, turned, grabbed her mask from her pocket and slipped it over her face, while Scorpia hurried after her out of the room, her claws clacking as she tried to get her mask anywhere near her features. She was still bouncing it back and forth as the two of them came around the corner of the third sub-basement level, to find that the reason why the lights were dimming was because a witchling was standing next to a large power conduit, the metal bracing open and her hair was reaching inside of it.

No.

Not her hair.

Catra blinked as she realized the witchling’s hair had the slightly slick, glistening texture of an abomination’s goo. It was yanking a valve up and down, and as she manipulated the conduit, the girl turned around to reveal that she was wearing a modified Coven Guard mask, with glowing red eye-holes that made her look quite a bit more intimidating than even the best masked, best armed members of the Guard.

Catra gaped at her, while the witchling flipped her mask up, revealing youthful, light brown features with purple eyebrows and bright purple eyes. She lifted a small scroll to her lips and spoke into it. “Log Update, Supplemental – the magical conduit is definitely using some form of construction magic to channel energy from the deeper parts of the Titan’s dessicated flesh to the magitech constructs in the palace. I think if I could just take apart more of it, or maybe examine the Heart of our dead god then I could learn how this magic is transmuted and transformed from generalized wild magic into a useful coven style magic! There also appears to be an angry cat-demon looking at me and Scorpia! Hi Scorpia!” She waved at Scorpia with one of her hands, then continued speaking into her scroll. “Reminder: Scorpia is the tall one, possibly with the scorpion tail.”

“What are you doing!?” Catra hissed, walking over and slashing the goopy strand of hair off of the witchling’s head. The disconnected chunk splattered to the floor and the girl looked mildly bemused before she twirled her finger, flashing a tiny magical circle into existence – a moment later, her hair regrew with a soft splort noise.

“Experimenting!” The girl said. “Oh! Wait! Are you...” She rubbed her chin, then looked at the scroll, tapping a few times, then brought up a recording of her voice.

“Note to future Entrapta: Your new ... thingy ... the thing that ... the people who tell you what to do who you later forget, look up the name later!” The recording said. Entrapta blinked, then tapped a few times at her scroll, and then a different recording – this one sounding as if she was running at the time, with the sound of tinny explosions ringing out in the background – played: “Boss! The word is boss!”

“Ooooh!” Entrapta said, then tapped at her scroll again – and Catra snatched it from her hand, crumpling it, then throwing it into the pipe, where the thrumming pulse of yellow energy burst it into flames.

“Who. Approved. Your. Transfer?” Catra growled.

“Well, probably Kikimora, she approved everyone’s transfers, since she’s the head of bureaucracy, right?” Scorpia said, as Entrapta blinked at her with clear confusion.

“Transfer? To what?” she asked.

“The Emperor’s Coven! You’re in an Emperor’s Coven uniform!” Catra said, pointing at Entrapta.

“Oh yeahhhh!” Entrapta exclaimed. “It’s cause they get to use every kind of magic!” her eyes glittered as she spun around. “Construction magic to build fortifications, abomination magic to create machines, divination magic to know what new kinds of machines to build when the old machines stop working, plant magic to ... to...” She hesitated. “Oh, you could make fuel from plants, for the machines!”

Catra put her hands over her face, her mask sliding half off her face in her frustration.

“You like machines, huh?” Scorpia asked. “Well, wildcat here, she’s our boss, so you better make machines for her.”

“Oh, I can make a chewtoy!” Entrapta said.

“That’s dogs!” Catra shouted.

“What’s a dog?” Entrapta asked, blinking at her.

“Ah, there you three are.”

Lilith was advancing down the corridor towards them, with Kikimora at her side. Lilith arched a single eyebrow, then smiled ever so slightly as Catra hastily slammed the conduit shut and then stood at attention. Her tiny little nod and the faint sparkle in her eyes made Catra feel slightly less like clawing Entrapta’s eyes out.

Slightly.

“Now that you’ve met your team,” Kikimora said, her voice oh so official. “We have a mission for you, Golden Guard.”

“Sure, Kiks, what is it?” Catra asked, leaning against the conduit, as if she was not annoyed at all, her tail snaking left and right behind her. She didn’t glance back to make sure it wasn’t bristling. It was flat and straight because she was damned if she was going to let Kikimora win this little ... exchange. Kikimora let out a quiet growl – but Lilith took over for the briefing.

“The Emperor’s Coven is at the forefront of ensuring that wild magic and criminals are handled. Well, there happens to be an individual that we need apprehended and arrested, for engaging in a certain amount of...” Lilith considered. “ ... chicanery.”

“Oooh, chicanery!” Scorpia sai1d, excitedly, her claws clicking together.

“Who is it, ma’am?” Catra asked.

Lilith smiled. “His name is Adegast.” She twitched her finger and a glowing flare of blue magic snapped into existance before Catra. She held out her hand and caught the scroll she had summoned in her palm – with an image of Adegast on one side and a map to his hovel on the other, and a list of crimes.

Catra nodded. “Got it, ma’am!” she said, saluting Lilith, who inclined her head, then turned and wlaked off. Once she was out of sight, Catra groaned.

“What’s wrong?” Scorpia asked. “We get to take down a big bad demon criminal, wildcat!”

“Firstly, don’t call me that!” Catra said, holding up her finger. “And secondly ... there’s someone else I want to deal with and this Adegast is nowhere near-”

“-the Owl House!” Eda said, her arms spreading as she twirled around the final room. “And that’s the final step of the tour, what do you think, kiddo?”

Adora blinked as she looked around the narrow closet, with the tiny window that showed an oceanic view of bubbling seas and a distant, rising mountain that looked, for all the world, like the vast bent knee of a corpse.

“I just have a few questions, ma’am,” she said.

“Eda, please, don’t call me ma’am. I’m not old enough to be a...” Eda paused, then started to count her fingers, one by one, thinking as she did so. “ ... oh Titan, I am old.” She shook her head, slightly, while Adora grinned and walked over to the window. She looked out at the glimmering seas, then turned back to face Eda.