We Have the Power!
Copyright© 2026 by Carlos Santiago
Chapter 4: Decisions
“Der Mensch kann zwar tun, was er will, aber er kann nicht wollen, was er will.” / “Man can do what he wills, but he cannot will what he wills.”
— Arthur Schopenhauer, Über die Freiheit des menschlichen Willens (On the Freedom of the Will). Originally written in 1839 and published in Die beiden Grundprobleme der Ethik (The Two Fundamental Problems of Ethics) in 1841. Original German text in the public domain. English translations vary by edition and translator.
The throne room was quiet while the other servants and warriors were busy cleaning up the wreckage and rubble. Others were considering a prison for Beast Man. No matter his appearance, He-Man had done a favor for the masses of Eternia.
King Randor sat upon his throne to talk with this new hero. His dark beard was flecked with dust from the battle, and a fresh tear in his crimson-and-white mantle bore witness to how narrowly he had escaped Skeletor’s magic.
Beside him sat Queen Marlena. She had a copper-brown hair put up and wore her simple diadem, wearing a gown of white with a burgundy sash. Where Randor carried the scars of a soldier, Marlena possessed the composed grace of a queen through and through. Her dark hair framed thoughtful eyes that missed very little, and although relief softened her features, concern had not yet left her gaze.
Teela stood beside her father, Man-at-Arms, with folded arms, studying the towering stranger who had rescued them all.
“You said you could tell us about this stranger, Man-at-Arms. If you have information, please share it,” Randor said.
Marlena looked kindly to the stranger.
“It is not that we do not trust you, sir,” she said simply. “It is only Man-at-Arms is a trusted friend and you are—”
“I understand entirely, You Majesties,” He-Man said.
Duncan glanced toward the golden-haired warrior.
“The Sorceress had been, since we made the Mystic Wall, been working on fulfilling an ancient prophecy.”
Randor look at his friend, perplexed.
“What does that mean?” the king asked.
“He-Man,” Duncan continued, “is not of Eternia.”
“Then ... where is he from?” Queen Marlena asked skeptically.
He-Man answered himself.
“Preternia.”
“Preternia?” Marlena asked.
“Preternia is the resting place of Eternia’s greatest heroes,” Randor said. “You’re asking to believe a tall tale, He-Man. No offense, Man-at-Arms.”
Teela blinked in disbelief. She looked to her father for answers.
Duncan continued before anyone could interrupt.
“When Prince Adam reaches Castle Grayskull during times of great peril, the Sorceress uses ancient magic on him with a modified version of He-Man’s Power Sword. His body remains under Grayskull’s protection, unable to leave like Sorceress,” Duncan said.
“While I am summoned to fight in his stead,” He-Man finished.
Randor slowly leaned forward.
“But why?”
“The magic she uses requires some exchange. Adam, like you my king,” Duncan said, “is the descendant of King Grayskull, and through that bloodline, it fulfills some magic we do not understand, but it allows Sorceress to summon this hero to us now.”
“Then our son is safe while you battle?” Marlena wondered
“Yes.”
“And when the danger has passed?” Randor asked.
“I shall return to Castle Grayskull,” supplied He-Man. “The Sorceress will send me back to Preternia ... and Prince Adam will return to you.”
The King slowly exhaled.
“My son, for all of his wonders, is not that useful in a fight. I fear he would be more of a harm than a help on the battlefield.”
Queen Marlena looked at her husband in irritation before returning her attention to the outsider. Her gaze traveled over the bronze harness, the impossible sword, and finally settled upon his face.
“You speak of my son with kindness,” she said
“Do I?” He-Man wondered
“You know him well?”
He-Man hesitated only briefly.
“I do not. I only know the sort of man he may yet become.”
Marlena noticed the wording.
“But then, who are you?”
“I am not sure. I think I am a hero made by Sorceress for the dangers ahead.”
“So you’re this champion both made by and for Sorceress to protect Eternia and fulfill some prophecy?”
He-Man nodded.
The answer was respectful, but for this queen, she knew when a statement was like a cup. Sometimes, it was full; other times, it was empty; nevertheless, this one was not one of either.
She exchanged a glance with Randor before looking back to the warrior.
“I cannot pretend I understand Grayskull’s mysteries,” she said, trailing off. “But if what you say is true ... then my son is placing his life in your hands each time you are called.”
He-Man placed one fist over his chest.
“I swear to you, Your Majesty ... no harm shall come to Prince Adam while I am around.”
Something in the conviction of those words eased the Queen’s fears, though not entirely.
“Then,” she said quietly, “bring our son home when your task is finished.”
He bowed his head.
“You have my word.”
Without another sentence, the Champion of Grayskull turned and departed the throne room.
Only after the great doors closed behind him did Marlena speak again.
“I hope,” she murmured, almost to herself, “that wherever Adam is ... he knows he is not alone.”
He-Man crossed the drawbridge of Castle Grayskull quietly.
That had not been his intention. However, the celebration of victory in the distance did not feel like it belonged to him. He-Man had won the day, not Adam, so the praise felt hollow to the prince.
As he walked through the hallways, the pillars and statues somehow seemed smaller, less concerning. He could not quantify how. They just were.
Within the ancient throne room, Sorceress was waiting exactly where he had first met her. Her white-and-gold wings folded neatly behind her. The staff rested lightly in both hands. He might have doubted her abilities in magic before, but after becoming He-Man, any skeptic cynicism he had died within him.
He noticed that her features seemed burdened. Before, she had seemed focused on the task at hand. At this moment, there was a distraction.
“You have done well, Prince Adam,” she said. “Your father lives and Eternia is safe.”
“For now,” He-Man said, lowering his head in defeat. “Skeletor escaped.”
“He did,” she remarked. She inclined her head and gave him a smile. “Nevertheless, a tentative peace has been restored. You have done well. Your task as He-Man is finished for today.’
She continued to smile at him gently.
“Speak the words: ‘Let the Power return’, Adam.”
He looked down at the Sword of Power after she told him what to do. For a moment, he considered disobeying her, but then he nodded. Holding the Sword of Power upright before him, the Champion spoke clearly.
“Let the Power return.”
The brilliant light answered immediately.
Golden lightning flowed backward through the blade back towards the sky. The tremendous strength filling every muscle receded like the tide from a shore. Massive shoulders narrowed. Towering height diminished. Armor dissolved into ribbons of light before reforming into the familiar garments of Prince Adam.
In his white shirt, brown-red jacket and brown pants, Adam felt smaller than he did only moments before. He also felt heavier, yet also, he felt more right in his proper skin.
He flexed his fingers, testing the difference.
“I almost miss it already,” Adam confessed.
He was with one of two people that knew that he was He-Man, so it felt right to be able to admit his weakness for enjoying the power of becoming He-Man.
“The power has not abandoned you,” Sorceress replied in her way of comfort. “Magic, much like a person, rests until it is needed again.”
Adam rested the sword against his shoulder.
“There was something you said before I left.”
Sorceress suddenly became solemn.
“You hinted of something worse than Skeletor.”
For several long moments she did not answer. She stared at him. Maybe she had hoped that he would forget her cryptic words, but given everything he had experienced in the last thirty six hours, he would never forget that which he knew.
She looked down at the stone floor.
“I have watched over this castle for many years. With that responsibility comes certain gifts.”
She did not look at or towards Adam despite her gaze being in his general frame. Somehow, he knew she was looking through him.
“I remember giving you the Sword of Power.”
“Well, yeah,” Adam said flippantly. “That was only just today.”
She slowly shook her head.
“No.”
His smile faded.
“I have memories of giving it to you ... many times.”
Adam frowned.
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I. I have seen lives I should not be seeing. There are variations of witnessing you obtain the power of He-Man. Some seem more likely than others, but all of them feel real.”
She placed one hand in the air and windows into reality.
“I have seen lives that never happened. Multiple variations on you and I and the others. All of them feel just as real as this one, but I know they are not possible given the history of Eternia.”
The images showed Prince Adam as bulky as He-Man and wearing the worst haircut of all time. In another, he looked like a cartoonish wearing a red hoodie, brown pants, red boots and wielding a gaudy version of the Sword of Power. In another, he was thinner and Skeletor stabbed him, and the Sword of Power split in two. In another, he and Teela were kissing and ... he was becoming a more powerful version of He-Man as Teela became a version of Sorceress ... He could not be sure. In the last one he paid attention, he went to a place called Earth. He did not even want to comment on that vision of himself.
There were many variations in between all of them, but he could not see them all in any meaningful way.
“I have seen battles fought differently. Friends who were enemies. Enemies who became allies. I have seen victories that became defeats ... and defeats that somehow became victories. In many, you and Skeletor are locked in an eternal battle for the fate of Eternia, the Orb, and even the Universe and magic itself.”
Adam stared at her.
“That’s insane,” he said.
“Yet no more than you becoming He-Man?”
“No,” Adam confessed. “No more than becoming He-Man.”
“These visions did not exist forever. Someone must have started them,” Sorceress went on. “Someone—or something—has wounded time itself. I cannot be certain which it is.”
Adam instinctively reached for the Sword of Power. He should transform into He-Man and fight whomever is doing this, but the problem is He-Man could not solve a mystery.
“Can we stop it?”
“I am not certain at the moment,” Sorceress said. “For now, we cannot do much, so we must wait.”
“What? Why?”
Her answer came with unmistakable certainty.
“So long as Skeletor wages war upon Eternia, neither of us can devote ourselves to discovering who has fractured history, so the most important thing you can do right now is end this conflict by defeating Skeletor and imprisoning him as soon as possible.”
She stepped closer to emphasize her point.
“Until he is no longer free to threaten Eternia, our attention will remain divided, and understanding a time line will require focus.”
Adam looked down at the ancient blade, thinking of all that this could mean. To disobey the being who held the cosmic power to protect Eternia sounded like a bad move to Adam, so he slowly nodded his head.
“I understand.”
He did not, but he had a path forward, and he could obey until he did.
“I will bring Skeletor to justice.”
Far above them, beyond stone, sky, and stars, something unseen stirred patiently beyond the boundaries of time and space. Neither guardian nor champion yet knew its name, but it knew theirs. Patience was its ally, and while they might not do as the entity wanted, this might be the iteration that led to its liberation.
The fires of Snake Mountain were ones that burned forever even if those within did not intend for them to.
Within the great audience chamber, a quietude lingered.
The monstrous architecture cast long shadows across black stone while rivers of molten lava flowed beneath grated walkways. Ancient skulls stared from the walls as though judging every soul unfortunate enough to enter.
Skeletor stood upon the dais overlooking his domain. One hand rested atop the ram-headed Havoc Staff, petting the curves of the horns.
He had waited twenty years.
Twenty long years trapped on the other side of the Mystic Wall. He had attacked with perfection. He had won. He was going to kill Randor. Then, to have victory stolen from him by a warrior that had appeared from nowhere.
It was not fair! How stupid of reality to deny him his rightful retribution. His face, his throne, the power of the Elders. It had all been taken from him.
He had long suspected they hid their powers elsewhere when he attacked the Hall of Elders all those years ago, but he suspected that they knew he was going to take that power to become the Supreme Master of the Universe, and they saw fit to deny him his victory.
His fingers tightened around the staff until he knew he was risking the integrity of the weapon’s stability, and then, he relaxed his hand.
Behind him came the measured footsteps of Evil-Lyn.
She neither bowed nor announced herself.
“You failed. We all followed you after you asking us to keep faith, and you failed.”
Skeletor slowly turned.
“What ... did you say?”
Evil-Lyn met the burning violet fires within his empty eye sockets without flinching. She wore her black gown and stupid head dress like a princess to a kingdom that no longer existed.
“I said you failed. You breached the Mystic Wall, nearly destroyed their home, had Randor in hand, and when the moment came, you failed.”
She shook her head in disbelief.
“The prize was never Randor. I thought you wanted the power of the Council of Elders,”
“I do! It is not your place to question me.”
She gestured toward the western horizon toward the palace and the other places on the Light Hemisphere.
“Had you marched there immediately and scattered their defenders, we could have gone for the power, but your ego could not help but try and kill Randor.”
She folded her arms.
“You were too busy gloating, making yourself look more important than you are.”
“I was caught off guard,” Skeletor rebuked.
“You were distracted.”
Skeletor’s grip tightened around the Havoc Staff.
“You acted like Keldor, an entitled warrior, not the most powerful mage of this age!”
For one long heartbeat Skeletor did not move. Then, as quick as lightning, the crimson jewel atop the Havoc Staff exploded with light.
A lance of yellow sorcery struck Evil-Lyn squarely in the chest.
She cried out as the blast hurled her across the chamber. The slam against the wall reminded her just how human she was.
It was fortunate that no one else was in the room.
Smoke drifted from her form while pain was radiating through her limbs with ever pulse of her beating heart.
“You forget your place, Evil-Lyn,” he said in a low and dangerous tone. “I am the Lord of Destruction. I am the greatest sorcerer in the Dark Hemisphere. You are my servant!”
He stood over her in victory.
“If I desire revenge ... then it is revenge I shall have before all else. You have no room to question me. Is that understood?”
Evil-Lyn remained kneeling upon the cold stone.
“Yes, Lord Skeletor,” she said in the humiliated state of pain.
She watched the darkness where Skeletor walked away.
For twenty years she had believed power alone was worthy of loyalty. She had been the most steadfast, yet he mistreated her at the first question of faith.
If he could not handle pushback, he was no leader despite how forceful he was, for Power was meaningless if it was wielded by a fool.
Perhaps, she mused, it was time to begin searching for someone stronger.
A few weeks passed without incident. The former-Defenders of Eternia were in action as the Masters of the Universe. Each was helping rebuilding of Eternos (the capital city) and making it more beautiful than it was before Skeletor’s attack.
Morning sunlight poured across the palace training yard as both Adam and Teela were hard at work, training.
The cover worked, and allowed Adam to learn more about sword play and technique. After all, as He-Man, he was stronger, faster, and more durable than most, but that did not mean he was invincible nor unstoppable. If he was to defeat his enemies, he would need to learn the fundamentals of swordplay like everyone else, and if he mastered them in his weaker form as Adam, then he would certainly become a monster on the battlefield as He-Man.
In addition to his technique training and his learning about weaponry, Adam was being training in long distance running and cardiovascular activities, under the guise that he would be needed to go retrieve He-Man from Castle Grayskull, but this also proved beneficial as it allowed Adam to last longer in his bouts.
Rows of practice dummies lined the stone walls while racks of wooden and steel weapons stood ready for eager hands.
The weighted wooden swords had proven useful in ensuring he perfected his swing and timing, but after a while, it was clear that he would get nothing more from an opponent that did not attack back.
The clang of steel echoed through the courtyard as Prince Adam and Teela circled one another beneath the watchful eye of Duncan.
“Keep your feet moving!” Man-at-Arms barked.
Adam obeyed, bringing his practice sword around in a cautious sweep.
Teela met the strike effortlessly.
Wood cracked against wood. While they were made from thick hardwood, they had been augmented to be a heavier variety of sword, so as to condition their arms.
She stepped inside his reach before twisting her wrist.
Adam felt his grip fail.
His sword spun harmlessly through the air before landing several paces away with an embarrassing clatter. While he was improving, Adam grimaced in frustration at his losses. If he were in his He-Man form, Teela would not best him so quickly.
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