The Rise of Voltron: Season 1: Episode 12 - Temple Run

Across leagues of stars, on a planet far beyond Earth’s sight, there stood an ancient castle, and in this castle lived a princess. Young and fair was she, even while dreaming, though what she was dreaming of, few could guess. It mattered little besides, for as dawn broke across the vast horizon of the sea the shining castle overlooked, turning its inky blue waters into sparkling liquid flame, so too did the light within her bedchamber brighten, stirring her from slumber.

Allura blinked awake slowly as the sheer curtains surrounding her bed drew back and the ambient sounds of running water faded, leaving her feeling a touch exposed. Shiro had suggested the use of calming sounds to help her sleep after noticing the effects the previous wretched night had on her; a strange notion to be sure, yet her eyes were not quite so heavy as they had been yesterday, so perhaps there was some wisdom in it after all. The mice certainly thought so. They buried themselves in Allura’s pillows, sheets, hair, and whatever else they could to stave off the coming day. Truthfully, a part of her wished to do the same. But the sun waited for no one, and there were many tasks to be done.

“Good morning, my dearies,” said Allura, scratching Chuchule’s head. She stretched into it and chirred happily. “Let us begin the day, shall we?”

Sleepy though they were, they dutifully (if a tad clumsily) climbed their way up to their favorite perch on her shoulders as she stood and made her way to the bathing room. She gave herself quite a fright passing the wall-length mirror. The dreadful state of her hair could ward off a clanmurel, she dared say!

Swiftly but thoroughly, she washed and dried both herself and her mice. After donning her traditional dress, she returned to the main chamber and sat at her vanity, her pets scampering to the jewelry box they so adored playing in. With a clap of Allura’s hands, six round slots opened on the vanity’s surface, and from them floated an array of tools: two hand fans unfolded and blew a gentle breeze while a wide-toothed comb ran through her damp hair, a bottle misted her with her preferred perfume, and the final pair, equipped with arm-like appendages, awaited to scrunch up each lock, preserving the luscious curls, and pin her bangs back.

Little Chulatt, counter to her peers, had scurried atop Allura’s head the moment the fans emerged and basked in the wind. It was far sooner than she wanted when they stopped, and her large ears drooped sulkily. The princess chuckled and petted the pitiable dear, and set her on the vanity. She then took her earrings from Chuchule and Plachu, who were kind enough to bring them to her, the tiny beads attaching behind her earlobes and hanging the purple pyramids on invisible strings. Platt carried her circlet over, teetering precariously under the gold burden. She caught both it and him before they tipped over, and slipped it on, its weight settling on her brow almost comfortingly. The styling tools returned to their compartments, and she examined herself in the mirror, her posture perfect as always. Everything was as it should be.

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK

She and the mice jumped.

“Levántate y brilla, Princess!” Lance’s overly-chipper voice rang through the door. “You up yet?”

Half of Allura wanted to tell him off for shattering the peace of her morning; the other half was abruptly and acutely aware she’d yet to make her bed, and thus clear it of all things…stuffed. Panic set in.

“One moment, please,” she hastily replied, shooting off her stool.

In a frenzy of magic, she set her sheets and pillows right, and funneled the mountain of plush animals into her closet. Only after scanning the chamber three times and smoothing every wrinkle from her skirt did she unlock and open the door, finding Lance leaning on the frame, mid-breath check.

“Hey, hey,” he said, straightening, “looking gorgeous as always, mí amor. Did you have pleasant dreams? Maybe about me?”

She answered flatly, “Did you need something, Lance?”

“Just you, babe.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“…And Shiro told me to tell you Hunk’s got breakfast ready early.”

“You needed to inform me of such a trivial matter in person?”

A touch of sheepishness crept into his face. “I mean, we tried to call, but your room’s comm’s on silent mode.”

Ah, yes, that. After her little…disagreement with Shiro the other quintant, Allura had ordered she not be disturbed except for emergencies and locked herself in her chambers, disabling all means of contact, and had yet to reinstate them. In hindsight, perhaps a wee bit much.

“Well, thank you for telling me,” she said. “I shall join you all shortly.”

“Why not go right now? You can hold my arm.” She shut the door. Lance blinked at it for a moment, his seventeen-year-old brain trying to puzzle out what the action could possibly mean. Then he smiled to himself and headed off. “She’s warming up to me.”

Ten doboshes later, Allura stepped into the dining room. Were anyone to ask if she’d taken the long way to avoid something, her answer would be a diplomatic no; she was simply engaging in some light exercise, and to an extent, it was true.

Her instant grimace upon entering proved her strategy’s merit. Lance appeared to be flamboyantly reenacting their last mission, flailing his spork about as though it were a weapon. What joy.

“…and then he was all like ‘Rahh blahh!’ and me and Nyma were just like ‘Watai!’”

Allura rolled her eyes in the most lady-like way she could think of and took her seat, absentmindedly returning Coran’s greeting. Endeavoring to tune out the ridiculous performance, she focused on her breakfast: a simple batch of food goo, though it seemed Hunk had greatly improved the recipe since they last ate it. The mice concurred, gobbling down their portion greedily. Unfortunately, the delicious meal could not drown out everything.

“So he starts freaking out, and I mean seriously freaking,” Lance went on. “Like, ‘unga-bunga’ type freak, which I didn’t even know was possible. Anyway, he’s coming at us again, and then I just went ‘Hoo-wa’” — Splat — “ooh…”

In his flailing, he’d accidentally snagged some goo and flung it across the table, directly into Keith’s face.

“Whoops,” said Lance, laughing. “But hey, it distracts from the mullet—Gah!”

Keith smirked. The goop he’d fired from his spork like a catapult had struck Lance’s plate, sending his breakfast all over him — and then some. Allura stared at the splatters on her chair, right next to her head, like they had insulted her entire bloodline; Hunk and Pidge weren’t so lucky, even if it was only a few drops.

“Hey, watch the laptop!” snapped Pidge, shaking her fist.

An unusually mischievous grin appeared on Hunk’s lips. “Oh, it’s on now.”

He slammed his face into his plate, slurping food into his cheeks until they bulged bigger than a chipmunk’s, sat up, and squashed them with his fists, spraying the other side of the table. Keith ducked, but Shiro, who was about to attempt deescalation, got coated. There was a beat of silence as he wiped the goo from his eyes. Then he smiled, picked up his plate, and the chaos was loosed.

The air became a tornado of green. Chairs acted as cover against the onslaught, only a brave few sneaking around to grab more ammunition for their side. Laughter rang out, and even Coran chuckled along. But Allura was far from amused. She set her hands on the table with a sharp slam, and at once, the room froze. Everyone watched with owlish eyes as she stood and walked out the door with nary a word, the mice on her heels.

“What’s twisting her tiara?” asked Pidge.

Lance shrugged, making an “I don’t know” noise before throwing more goo at Keith — who easily dodged and nailed him in the face instead. “Doh!”

With strides nearly too quick for her tiny companions to keep up with, Allura made her way to a secondary training deck, half the size of the one the Paladins used. Her personal study room. The first thing she did upon arriving was breathe; breathe and attempt to clear the ridiculous image of what just happened from her mind. They were at war. The Galra could attack at any moment; they didn’t have time for such childish nonsense! Just as she had no time to dwell on it any longer than she already had.

“Alright,” she said to herself, letting out a long, final breath and using her gendopic to change into her battle suit while magically tying her hair into a bun, “let us begin.”

Her first study was levitation. The mice eagerly volunteered to be her first targets, and she obliged them, calming further at their adorable squeaks of joy as she moved them in intricate patterns around the room. From there, the computer provided larger and larger objects of various shapes. She lifted them, spun them, stacked them; every movement she could think of, she did. Through the blanket of energy she wrapped them in, she felt their weight, curves, and corners exactly, letting them, for a moment, become part of her, then set them back on the ground and the computer took them away. The biggest one filled half the chamber and matched her in height; it was more of a challenge of seeing how long she could levitate it rather than endeavoring to move it outright.

Next, she practiced pooling her energy to conjure and manipulate fire, as simple orbs and waves meant for light and protection and as swirling columns meant to scorch her enemies. Normally, the warmth of her magic was quiet and gentle, like rays of sun flowing from within her. Now that sun burned fiercely, as if it were in its last stages of life, both warming her and sapping her body heat to fuel itself. Understandably, the mice were less inclined to help with this lesson, but still cheered when Allura succeeded. She then condensed her power into a single orb between her hands and fired small blasts, like blaster bolts, at holographic enemies, most of which took the visage of Galra sentries. This was her favorite exercise.

From there, however, the necessity for skill increased dramatically. Conjuration, the Alchemical ability to form constructs, such as shields and weapons, required a level of technique and concentration that staggered her even now. It wasn’t simply molding her power into a shape: it was feeling every notch and curve; constructing something material, microstructure by microstructure, from immaterial energy; creating a blade sharper than any other, and knowing it only remained so by your will alone. Thus, she began with an unadorned staff — a long cylinder, really — and a circular shield. After going through some basic martial forms and seeing them hold well, she altered them, making them more intricate. The staff became a spear and the shield gained a stouter frame, Altea’s emblem blooming on the front. The final test was moving them away from her body and controlling them at a distance. Sweat slicked her brow and a faint tremble began in her arms and legs. She willed them to float, slowly swirling them around her body, her hands still coated in a gentle aura, and then, holding a deep breath, she pushed them away, farther and farther, until at last her hold faltered and they burst into flashes of yellow light, vanishing.

Allura dropped to her knees, gulping down air. The mice were quick to her side, cheering as much as worrying. Platt suggested she take a break for food and water, and the others agreed.

“Fear not, dearies,” she said, scratching behind his ear, “I have strength yet. Enough for my final study. Then I shall rest, I promise.”

They glanced at each other, still concerned, but squeaked their agreement and climbed onto her shoulders. Forcing her legs to steady, she stood and made her way to the back wall. A touch of apprehension wormed its way into her heart as she opened a hidden compartment. The shelves were lined with small spherical pots, one of which she took and placed on a table in the center of the room, summoned from the floor. In the middle of the hidden compartment, segmented from the shelves in its own alcove, hovered a little round box. Delicately, Allura took it, cradling it in her hands as if it were a newborn. At her touch, the lid parted, revealing three rows of tiny amber seeds, perfectly preserved. The bottom line was nearly depleted.

Once upon a time, she’d thought her father’s insistence of collecting specimens from every planet he visited, including his own, was a waste of storage space. Now, as she levitated the last seed from the bottom row, returning the closed case to its alcove, she’d never been more thankful. She brought it to the table and started moving it away, then stopped. Biting her lip, she clasped this minuscule remnant of her home in both hands, holding it close like prayer.

‘Please… Please let this work.’

She plunged the seed into the soil of the pot before she could hesitate longer. It sank deep, vanishing from sight, but not from her hold. Her hands outstretched, she poured all her concentration into that singular point, and her magic followed. The mice watched with baited breath; Allura gritted her teeth; the pot trembled. The seed wanted to sprout — she could sense it! She just had to push harder!

The tremble became a shudder; the shudder became a rattle. She poured out more magic, and from the dirt, a speck of green poked. It was working! It was—

CRACK

Allura’s barrier came almost too late.

Dirt exploded, slamming into her and throwing her to the floor, accompanied by a horrid crackling, popping sound. Then all was quiet. She peeked her eyes open and sat up. Destruction surrounded her. Shards of the pot lay scattered about, soil coated every surface, and weaving through the carnage was a mass of huge, gnarled, discolored roots and stems. Ugly, twisted, and stained. It was supposed to be a flower.

Her manicured fingernails bit into her palm, the skin only saved by her suit. From the floor, Platt and Chuchule squeaked comfort. Plachu and Chulatt reminded her that this was technically an improvement since, in her previous attempts, she hadn’t gotten so much as a leaf before the seed…well, was destroyed by the overwhelming influx of magic.

The princess stood stiffly. “Mutilation is no achievement.”

She turned and walked out with swift, sharp footsteps. The mice glanced at one another in concern. They scampered after her, tentative of getting too close as she ranted under her breath, while the cleaning drones set to work removing the mess of vines and dirt behind them. After thinking a while, Chuchule pushed her legs faster and called to her, suggesting she visit her friends and see what they’re up to, to take her mind off of things.

Allura considered the idea, and her pace slowed. Finally, she replied, “Very well. Let us see how their training fares.”

Something in her tone had the mice sharing another look.

Childish laughter caught her ear several hallways down. Turning a corner, she spotted two of the boys hunched over a data pad, snickering.

“He’s gonna freak,” said Hunk.

“Oh yeah. Let’s see how you like getting dunked on,” said Lance.

They high-fived and chorused, “The Prank Masters have returned!”

‘Prank Masters? How absurdly juvenile.’ Allura went to roll her eyes. A little voice in the back of her head stopped her, reminding her that she had helped them steal from Keith not too long ago. She ignored the warmth rising in her cheeks. ‘That was entirely different.’

Regardless, it was nothing she wanted to participate in today, and thus moved on to locating Pidge. The young inventor was, naturally, in the makeshift lab she’d been slowly building in the Green Lion’s hangar for some time, undoubtedly still bent on studying her so she could explain the Lions’ creation and abilities purely with science. Random machine parts, both large and small, coated the table, some spilling onto the floor. If there was any order to their arrangement, it was known only to Pidge. Sparks flew in small bursts from the six thin metal limbs welding something together; a jarlonic actuator she’d apparently pilfered. She was actually using it fairly well — for a novice, at least. Her fingers, lined with three rings connected by strips of flat cord to wrist cuffs, wiggled to and fro in a wild dance, moving the limbs wirelessly, while Rover’s levitation beam kept the object’s parts in place. At least someone was putting their skills to use.

“Good morning, Pidge,” said Allura, leaning over her shoulder and squinting through the flashes. “What are you working on?”

A low, chittering laugh bubbled from Pidge, a manic smile growing on her face. Her glasses reflected the sparks’ light, giving her the visage of some deranged creature. “Oh, you’ll see. Everyone will see. Through my brilliance, we shall have our revenge!”

The others had warned Allura and Coran about this: Mad Scientist Mode, they called it. According to them, it was a state of twisted brilliance that would give her unnatural amounts of energy and creativity, and could only be ended by either complete success or utter failure.

“So…” Allura asked slowly, “it is not for the war effort, then?”

“Oh, it’s a war alright,” Pidge replied. “A war of chaos, in which science will be  victorious! Mwa-ha-ha-ha!”

Rover joined in the crazed laughter. Allura walked out, regretting ever hoping for more.

“At least there are two who I know have proper priorities,” she muttered.

Upon arriving at the main training deck, however, it turned out to only be one. Keith’s movements bore the swift precision of a falcon swooping upon its prey as he deflected holographic debris, lasers, and flying blades from all angles with his bayard. His blend of acrobatics and swordsmanship was a testament to his commitment to training — a rarity among his peers, it seemed.

“Keith,” Allura called in clipped greeting.

He replied in kind, “Princess.”

“Where is Shiro? I thought he was with you.”

“Hit the showers early. Headache.” He caught a dagger moments before it struck his head, spun, and threw it at a small boulder, destroying it. “Did you want to use the deck?”

Allura knew Shiro’s headaches were nothing to scoff at — Coran had warned of their chronic and potentially debilitating nature from the start — yet she couldn’t help locking her jaw a little at he word “early.” Of course Keith alone was putting in extra work while everyone else footled about. Of course none of the others took the threat they faced seriously; they couldn’t even have breakfast without childish shenanigans! Keith’s offer came back to her. The sounds of holograms shattering was quite satisfying.

At last, she replied, “I will spar, but you need not stop.”

His hurried confirmation fell on deaf ears. Allura headed to the far side of the room, telekinetically pulling a staff from the weapon rack, and called for a training robot. The mice kept their distance by the wall — a wise decision. The limbs, wiring, and components of two bots, in rapid succession, scattered in every direction at frightening speeds. Metal crumpled under every strike, alleviating her frustration, if only somewhat.

From the sidelines, Keith, having finished his exercises, watched with a mixture of admiration and concern. He’d seen her spar before, but never with such aggression. Her abrupt exit at breakfast was another clue. Should he step in? It was probably none of his business…

Seconds after tearing the second bot apart, Allura was about to commission a third, when he cleared his throat. “Um, Princess, may I ask you something?”

“Ask what?” she replied tersely. ‘Finally noticed my mood, did you? Well done.’

“Would you be willing to teach me how to use a staff?”

She stopped and turned to him, surprise coloring her expression. “Why would you wish to learn that? You are a swordsman.”

“You don’t always get your choice of weapon in a fight. Besides, I already learned the basics on Earth, so why let them go to waste?” As he spoke, he walked to the rack and traded his bayard for a staff, giving it a twirl. “If you don’t want to, I understand.”

Allura watched him with a critical eye. “You do realize that everything I know, I learned from training programs which the castle still possesses, yes? Beyond them, I have no doubt my father would love to tutor you.”

Her resentful undertone made Keith internally wince. But she’d asked him a question, so he answered, “I learn better from people than programs…even programs who basically are people.”

Something inside the princess bristled. Stiffly, she said, “Very well, I will teach you. But seeing as you already have some experience, it will be through combat.”

He simply nodded. “Thank you.”

For which part he was thankful, she was unsure, and as they made their way to the center of the room, she decided she didn’t care. She gave no instruction on stance, wanting to see what his Earth style had to offer (although she doubted its efficacy), and they took ready positions, similar yet unique.

While she didn’t recognize his form, after a moment of searching his brain, Keith recognized hers. Heavy-set with both hands near one end as if it were a sword: a quarterstaff hold. Against his bo technique, which favored a central grip, it would complicate things, but he’d never been one to shy away from a challenge. He let her make the first move.

Small taps came first. Both tested the waters, saw how the other measured up. With Allura’s thrust toward his head, the real match began. Though she was loathed to admit it, for a self-proclaimed novice, he held his own well. The circular movements he used allowed him the speed he favored; often, he parried and countered in the same breath, turning his defense into offense with ease. Unfortunately for him, she could do the same. However, if she wanted to win, she needed to get serious.

An uptick in her ferocity had Keith on his back feet. The longer they fought, the more resemblances he noticed between her style and European quarterstaff style — a technique he’d, regrettably, learned little about. At least he was getting hands-on experience now. Her linear, powerful strikes were likely meant to take advantage of her Altean strength and end fights quickly. The reach her grip provided was perhaps the greater advantage, and she didn’t hesitate to use it.

“What say,” grunted Allura when their staffs locked, “we make this a proper competition? The expression Lance used that one time…best three in a five?”

“Three out of five,” replied Keith. “You’re on. But torsos need to touch the ground for it to count. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

She then broke the lock, slid her pole behind one of his legs, and swiped it out from under him. Stopped mid-counter, he couldn’t get his hands underneath him quick enough.

“Point to you,” he said from the floor.

She spun her staff slowly, a playful glint veiled deep in her eye. “I fear you will have to do better than that.”

He sprung upright, putting some distance between them, and instantly retook his stance. “Guess so.”

The second round went similarly to the first, and although Keith lasted longer this time, it was ultimately Allura’s second point to claim. She couldn’t help a smug smile, having knocked him down with quite a spectacular spin, landing him on his face. He didn’t begrudge her for it; it was a solid hit, frustrating though the loss was. Taking a breath, he planted a fist against the ground and pushed himself back up. He wasn’t out just yet — and he had an idea of how to turn this around.

Away they went again. At the start, it appeared to hold the burgeoning pattern they were building. Keith was counting on it. Their fight was meant to teach, and teach it did; each strike, both landed and missed, was a lesson, and he took them all to heart, adjusting what he needed to accordingly. She moved to finish him — overextending like she had before. Quick as a fox, he slipped around, switched his grip, and delivered a thrust to her core, sending her to the floor instead. Allura gaped up at him and his mimicked stance.

“Better?” he asked, looking pleased with himself.

She hastily got to her feet. “For a novice.”

From there, the tables indeed turned. Her own moves used against her; every flaw within them exploited; and his growing comfortability at having a staff in his hand allowed him to incorporate melee attacks. She pushed herself as best she could, but without using magic (which would be cheating), it wasn’t enough. Twice more, she struck the ground.

Keith stood over her, his weapon at her throat, panting lightly. Then he smiled, small and earnest, leaned back, and said, “Good match. Want to go again?”

A furrow appeared between Allura’s brows. She smacked his offered hand away, opting to lean on her staff to stand. “Why bother? It appears you’ve learned all you need to.”

She tossed the rod to the ground with a harsh clatter and took a few frustrated steps away. Confused and a touch guilty, though he wasn’t quite sure what for, Keith picked it up as the mice came over, yet kept a short distance. Even they were wary of her mood. Arms crossed too tightly, ears pinned back sharp enough to cut stone, every ounce of her professional countenance held together by a wire that would snap if someone breathed on it wrong. He knew the feeling.

“Hey, uh…” His tongue felt like lead, but he pushed it to work. “Is everything alright? You seem…snappish today.”

Allura scoffed before she could stop herself. “Yes, because you are a complete stranger to such behavior.”

“Hence I’m asking.”

Something in his tone gave her pause. Her undignified conduct abruptly came clear to Allura, and she scolded herself for a moment. Then she took a breath, loosed her crossed arms, and replied with a diplomatic smile, “Thank you for your concern, but I am fine. My morning simply did not go as I had planned.”

‘Right…’

Judging by how her overly correct posture still screamed “I’m about to explode” it was far from the whole story. But prodding further would probably make her blow up for real, so Keith simply nodded with an understanding grunt and went to put their staffs away. While he grabbed his jacket, Allura headed out, desperate for a good cup of tea to calm her nerves.

If only she’d noticed the laser wire.

BEEP-POP-SPLURP

“AAAH!!!”

Her shriek had Keith at the doorway in an instant. “What happened? Are you—” A princess-sized tower of black sludge stood before him. Another pop, and a cloud of feathers fell from a box-like device above the door, sticking to the inky substance. “Uhhh…”

Goblin laughter chorused from down the hall. Three heads poked around the corner, and Rover snapped a picture.

“Booyah!” said Hunk.

“Sucker!” said Pidge.

“Ha ha, right on your stupid mullet—” Lance then spotted Keith, distinctly not tarred and feathered. “…Mullet?”

Smiles drooped into horrified gapes, Hunk’s especially. “Please tell me we did not just get Shiro.”

“Get me with what?”

Quadruple yelps sounded as the pranksters jolted, staring at Shiro across the way.

“Jumpy much?” he said with a small laugh, turning the corner. “What are you guys up to—whoa! Uh, who’s in there?”

Apparently, a bear. Furious growling filled the corridor as Allura’s glowing eyes pierced the tar, which was now bubbling and spitting from the radiation of anger-fueled magic that also ignited the feathers, making her look like a disturbed bonfire. On the bright side, the heat was helping to melt off the sludge…slightly.

“Well, hey, fallen angels are even hotter, am I right?” Lance gave a strained laugh and made finger guns. The others gawked in disbelief.

Whether Allura understood the comparison or not, she reached up and wiped most of the tar from her face, splattering it on the floor in a pointed flick. She took a long, long, stiff breath and let it out, her power fizzling away.

“I,” she said, forcing a veneer of poise through clenched teeth. “Am going. To wash. Up.”

She stormed off — or attempted to. The sticky tar glued every step to the floor, forcing her to stomp her way down the hall, leaving a trail of steaming black in her wake. Everyone gave her a wide berth. The mice took a detour to yell and even hiss at Lance before going after her. It might’ve been comical had Shiro not turned his attention to all four perpetrators, crossing his arms and fixing them with his signature Dad Glare, making them shuffle and shrink in shame.

Metal weighed Allura’s limbs as she exited the washroom again. She collapsed onto her bed face-first with a hearty groan, her undone hair and ornate bathrobe flaring dramatically across the sheets. The gentle squeaks of her pets had her turning her gaze out of the fabric. They were hauling a small array of pilfered sweets from the kitchen and jewelry from her box onto the bed. While Platt dug in, Plachu presented Chulatt and Chuchule, who had donned a much-too-long necklace and an oversized ring respectively, and were posing in various ways; a dress-up party, they suggested. A smile flickered and failed.

“Thank you, dearies,” said Allura, scratching Chulatt’s chin. “But I fear I am beyond the comfort of such things at the moment.”

They crooned sadly, drooping from ear to tail. She maneuvered into a sitting position, legs drawn close to her chest with arms wrapped around them, leaning onto her small mound of pillows.

She sighed. “I should be further along by now, and yet every time I attempt revitalization, it is as though my own magic resists me. To say nothing of my martial skills which, apparently, are equally as feeble and useless.”

“They are neither, my girl.” Allura shifted slightly away from her father’s hard-light hologram, which now sat on the edge of her bed, just like he had when she was little. “Keith is something of an…aberration. Even in so short a time under my tutelage, he has proven to be unprecedentedly adaptable.”

“So I noticed,” she mumbled, pulling her knees tighter.

It was his turn to sigh as he said, “Child, what is this really about?”

“I am fine.” Barely contained snark tinged her voice. “Why should I not be? I am only banned from leaving this castle day in and day out, and meanwhile, my sole purpose has become to open portals for the novice pilots of the most powerful weapon in the universe, who are content with being impertinent, apathetic children instead of destroying Zarkon once and for all!” Allura angrily snatched one of the sweets and stuffed it into her mouth. When she spoke again, it was more subdued. “Not that I expect an imprint on a circuitboard to understand. Not like mother would.”

The mice carefully crawled onto her shoulders and nuzzled her cheeks. Alfor watched, not knowing what to say for some time, understanding her words though they stung him so. What could he do? She was already studying with the Alchemist training programs, and he got the impression telling her to be patient (or giving any such similar advice) would see his aqlamyra shattered long before he could finish.

An idea came to him then. It was potentially problematic, but worth a chance all the same. “Do you remember the old tale of the Silent Keepers of Lycaenia Temple?”

Allura nearly rolled her eyes. “The one every child hears a thousand times? Yes, I seem to recall.” At the silence, she turned to him, and saw a rare playfulness in his face, the kind he wore when he knew something she didn’t. She squinted at him, puzzling through his words, then gasped. “Truly?”

Alfor nodded and replied, “It was decreed by our forefathers that it would the Sacred Alteans’ greatest secret, passed from mentor to student when they deemed them ready, along with only the most trusted advisors, lest any undesirables catch word and exploit the temple and its knowledge. I believe it is time you joined our ranks.”

Face beaming and ears bobbing joyously, she threw her arms around him, saying, “Thank you! Oh, thank you! I’ll be ready in two doboshes!”

Leaping from her bed, she charged into her closet laughing, the mice close behind despite having no idea what she was so excited for. Alfor chuckled after her, yet his grin was quick to fade once she was out of sight. Was this the right path?

“Doo doo-doo doopi-doopa,” hummed Coran, shimmying his way across the bridge to run a diagnostic on the most recently repaired system. “Wa-ba-ba-ba-baaa—”

“Coran.”

“Woop! Ah, Princess, I didn’t hear you—” He blinked. Rather than her dress or spacesuit, Allura was clothed in a tunic of royal blue with accents of white and gold, sturdy boots, and a cloak: traditional Altean explorer attire. And her hair was not in a bun but a high ponytail. “Where are you off to?”

“Lycaenia,” she replied with a smile.

To say Coran was surprised would be an understatement; he was flabbergasted six ways to Wazblay. His gaze darted to the side. Alfor was there, out of her line of sight. He nodded.

“Well, congratulations, my dear!” said Coran, embracing her tightly. “Quite the milestone. I’ll set coordinates and ready a shuttle then, shall I?”

At that moment, the Paladins arrived, with Shiro asking, “A pod to where?”

Coran opened his mouth, seeing no reason to keep them of all people in the dark, but Allura held up her hand, silencing him. “That would be an Altean secret. All you need to know is that I will be gone this afternoon, and when I return, things will be different. Fear not, I have no doubt you will find plenty of things to occupy your time with.”

She couldn’t help smirking and tossing her ponytail back as she spoke, walking past them and their bewildered expressions. Squeaking caught her ear. Looking down, she spied the mice in pursuit.

“Ah-ah,” she said, leaning down and raising a finger, “not this time, my dearies.”

Disappointed whines sounded from the little group, and they sagged into the floor as she continued onward.

“Loving the outfit,” called Lance just before the door closed.

“After ruining her last one,” muttered Pidge.

“Oh, like you didn’t help!”

“You’re both responsible,” Shiro said, his fatherly tone making them wince.

A couple minutes later, Allura was in her shuttle, the teludav open and waiting before her.

“Good luck, Princess,” said Shiro.

“Thank you,” she replied, “but I do not require luck for this.”

Still, though, once the comm shut off, her first shaky breath rattled out of her chest. She took a second, stronger one, tightened her grip on the controls, and vanished through the portal.

“Seriously,” said Pidge, “what is her damage today?”

“That’s no one’s business but her’s,” Shiro replied. He exchanged a subtle glance with Keith. “Trust me, sometimes what people need is space, not prying. She’ll open up when she’s ready.”

“But why doesn’t she want us to know where she’s going?” asked Hunk. “What if she needs help?”

“I don’t think she’d want it even if she did.” Keith crossed his arms, remembering their duel.

“An accurate assessment, I fear,” said Alfor, Coran nodding along somberly. “However, I also suspect this is one quest she must face alone. In the meantime, I suggest we follow her advice and find something productive to do.”

“Speaking of which” — Shiro fixed Pidge, Lance, and Hunk with a look — “I do believe there’s a hallway in need of cleaning.”

The trio groaned.

“And don’t think you can get away with using the drones.”

More groaning.

As the group began moving, a thought occurred to Pidge. “Wait, how’s Allura supposed to get back when she’s not here to open the door for herself?”

“Oh, there’s no need to fret,” replied Coran. “While she is the key to activating the teludav, the castle can maintain it for as long as necessary. Of course, there is the slight danger of keeping a space-time rift open for too long potentially creating a black hole, but she’ll return well before anything can happen.” He added quietly, “…I hope.”

“Aaand new fear unlocked,” said Lance. Hunk nodded, eyes wide.

———————————

Even from afar, the planet Lycaenia shimmered with life, and as Allura neared, it only grew more vibrant, for it was a paradise; a garden world free of danger and death. Or so lore would have it. She wasn’t certain where fantasy ended and reality began, but seeing the emerald hills dotted by a menagerie of exotic flowers peek through the clouds, it appeared that, for once, the stories did not exaggerate.

Per her father’s instructions, she flew over sparkling fen and thriving field until she came to a ring of mountains. Heart thumping louder with each meter, she crested the ridge. There, on the far side of a deep, sprawling valley, was the temple. It jutted proudly from the valley floor, comprised of countless square spirals of iridescent stone, reflecting the sun’s rays with a rainbow sheen. Legend told that its stewards, a people known only as the Silent Keepers, created the temple with an ancient melody known only to them, their very voices commanding the stones to grow. Though part of her doubted its truth, Allura had always loved that story.

The farther she flew, however, the deeper her stomach sank. Tarnished browns and grays overtook the once luscious land, resembling a blasted heath, everything blackened as if it were burned. What trees and bushes remained were either barren and crumbling or sickly, choked by purple vines, and blooming in unnatural hues; in wide paths where water should be weaving to nurture the flora and fauna, the dry beds were cracked, holding nothing save dust. Pillars of dark metal surrounded the temple like a fence, more patches of it fused clumsily to the roof and walls, and shoved into what was once a great open entrance welcoming all, a mechanical gate now barred the way, bearing the glowing emblem of the Druids.

Allura felt sick. This was supposed to be a sacred world — a secret world. The Galra couldn’t have found it unless…unless they tore the location from the mind of a captured Altean. Another remnant of her home was gone, mutilated into something unrecognizable and used to further Zarkon’s festering corruption.

But not entirely. No, she wouldn’t allow it to be, not again. Resolve swelling within her, she banked away to hide her ship before it was spotted, traveling along the mountain rim until she came to a high cliff overlooking the temple. There, she landed a decent way from the edge, and searched for a way down. What few slopes and terraces lined the sheer stone face were scattered too far to jump between, some barely big enough for one foot to rest on them. Fortunately, such things were no deterrent to an Alchemist princess. Levitation provided the key; with it, she slowed her descent and crossed the gaps. Once on the ground, she pulled up the deep hood of her cloak and willed her skin and clothes to change color. Warm brown, radiant white, and brilliant gold all faded to dark grey, matching the charred land. She darted between scant boulders toward an unspoiled section of the temple wall, keeping an eye out for sentries and Druids as she went.

“‘…and the ancient keep rewarded Jolinar…’” Allura recited, placing her hands against it, “‘…for he united heart and mind, and shared his gift freely.’”

She closed her eyes and let her magic flow, cascading through her arms and into the structure. For a moment, nothing happened. Anxiety spiked in her, and she was about to channel more power when the stone beneath her palms shimmered. The golden light spread, mapping out angular paths, along which it broke and slid apart, creating a doorway perfectly sized for her. She couldn’t resist a hushed giggle of pride before venturing inside.

It was short-lived. The temple corridors were far worse than the exterior; so much metal was plastered over them, she could hardly determine their original design, and the twisted magenta glow of the artificial lights stole away the soft shades of colored sunshine the crystalline stone should’ve been refracting. The worst of it, however, was the suffocating darkness permeating the air, chilling her to the bone and making her insides twist and squirm as if they were attempting to run away.

‘Black magic,’ she thought bitterly. ‘Revolting, vile thing. I will purge these monsters and their stains, or die trying. I swear it.’

Hiding her presence, she began making her way through the cavernous, corrupted hallways. She wasn’t sure where to go, but she trusted the will of the temple to guide her.

———————————

“This is a bad idea,” said Shiro for the millionth time.

“Yeah, uh-huh,” Pidge replied absent-mindedly, “and yet you haven’t done anything to stop us, so you’re just being a worry-wart.”

He wanted to scowl, but couldn’t bring himself to, mostly because she was right.

After cleaning every last drop of tar and feathers from the halls (a task made mercifully easier than they were expecting thanks to Altean cleaning tools), the trio had quickly gotten bored and returned to the question of where Allura had gone. So, they’d headed to one of several dozen digital library rooms meant for either individual or group study. With nothing better to do, and wanting to ensure the three didn’t get into any more trouble, plus a healthy dose of their own curiosity, Keith and Shiro had joined them, though they made it very clear they didn’t approve of hacking the castle’s archives for answers.

“Dang these encryptions are thick,” Pidge muttered, one hand working her laptop while the other used the holo-keyboard, waves of data scrolling on both screens. “Gonna have to try a work-around.”

“What do you think this ‘Altean secret’ even is?” asked Hunk.

“Whatever it is, if it’s three thousand-years-old, it’s gotta be awesome,” said Lance from where he lounged in a second chair, “especially since Allura’s involved. Ooh! Maybe she’s gonna get some epic super-powered armor!”

Keith tried to picture it. “So, basically a smaller and thus weaker version of Voltron?”

“Must you ruin everything?”

“This isn’t a comic book, Lance,” said Pidge, in the beginning stages of frustration.

“Well, excuse me for wanting it to be something cool. ‘Course, at the speed you’re going, we’ll probably never find out what it is,” he fired back.

That earned him a glare. “Oh, I’m sorry, am I not hacking the multi-layered encryption in the database of an advanced alien civilization fast enough for you, Monkey Brain?”

“Matter of fact, I’m dying from old age as we speak, Owl Face.” He flicked her glasses, eliciting a rather bird-like squawk and growl.

Shiro quickly stepped between them, saying, “That’s enough, both of you. Lance, stop poking the bear. Pidge, if we’re going to do this, ignore him and get it done before we get found out.”

“Too late.”

The group collectively yelped, some of them taking combat stances. The data on the holo-screen had reconfigured into the amused head of King Alfor.

Lance let out a rough wheeze and clutched his chest. “Did I miss a memo about it being Jump-scare Day or something?!”

“Apologies,” said Alfor, though he didn’t sound all too sorry. “I simply noticed a breach in the secure archives and grew concerned.”

“Sorry,” Hunk said quickly. “W-We just got so curious about this secret mission, and Pidge’s really, really good at hacking, so…”

“No need to explain, Number One,” called Coran as he entered, carrying a large tray with tea and snacks (vetted by Hunk, of course), which he set to hover in the middle of the company. “In fact, we’ve already discussed it, and we agreed that you all should know, if for no other reason than in case of emergency. But—” He held up a finger, his face the gravest they’d ever seen it, “—you must swear on your oaths as Paladins of the Voltron Vanguard to never speak of this to another soul so long as you live.”

The five glanced at each other, the weight of his words sinking in.

“We swear it as Paladins,” said Shiro, placing a fist on his chest, the others mirroring him.

Coran scrutinized them for several seconds more, then snapped back to his usual smile. “Excellent. Well then, Your Majesty, shall we?”

The holo-screen lit up in a blinding flash, leaving the room pitch black in its wake. From the shadows came a lone orb of light, Alfor’s voice shaping it into a landscape of mountains and rivers as he spoke.

“You will not find this tale in the archive, for it was passed on not through texts or codes, but by the confidence of one generation to the next. None know when it came to be. Its legend has existed since time immemorial, much like that of the Lions, and thus some believe they inspired or perhaps blessed its architects: the Silent Keepers.”

From the vast fields, they rose, their skin a midnight blue with wide, black eyes on faces featureless save for subtle markings of teal. The slit-shaped ones on their foreheads stood out the most. Robes and hoods shrouded the rest of their bodies. They walked with purpose toward the end of a valley where a towering structure rose, the material reminding the Paladins of bismuth.

“Ever watchful yet never uttering a word, it is said they sang to the earth, and the stones grew, weaving around the crystal the Keepers carried to these lands, which became its heart. Now they are stewards and guides to all who journey to their door seeking the knowledge hidden within the temple…the knowledge of the Ancients.”

Slowly, the vision faded. The team blinked away the residual light spots and shook their heads as the room returned to normal.

Hunk spoke first, his voice a tad shaky. “The Keepers…why did they look like…”

“Like Druids,” Shiro finished. His face held an all-too-familiar shadow.

“Given their significance as students of the arcane,” said Coran, laying a grounding hand on his shoulder, “even ones on such a twisted path, it’s unsurprising they’d pay tribute their progenitors.”

“So, they’ll give power to anyone who asks for it.” Keith’s tone was hard, caught between a statement and a question.

“Not precisely,” Alfor replied. “They are pacifists in the purest sense, and see knowledge as a universal right, something to be shared freely, not hoarded by our limited mortal perception of others. What some choose to do with it is their own folly.”

The young man’s gaze darted to his brother’s arm. ‘Tell that to the Druids’ victims.’

“Of course, not just anyone can find the planet, let alone the temple, otherwise it would’ve been ravaged by power-hungry hordes ages ago,” said Coran. “The only way to locate it is by having the secret entrusted to you by a mentor — or perhaps by some divine revelation. A bit chancy, I think you would agree. And simply because all can attempt the trials, it doesn’t mean all will succeed.”

A bad feeling sprouted in Keith’s stomach as Pidge spoke up, “Wait, trials? You didn’t say anything about trials.”

“How exactly is that ‘giving it freely’?” said Lance, using air quotes.

“But, so, does that mean,” asked Hunk tentatively, “Allura could fail?”

The two Alteans exchanged an apprehensive glance, making the Earthlings tense.

“She can, yes,” Coran replied, “but no mortal danger will befall her, I assure you.”

“Ah, stop worrying, Hunk,” said Lance, slapping him on the back. “She’ll be back in no time, magicked-up and ready to kick butt! Besides, she could just retake the test, couldn’t she?”

“True enough,” Alfor replied.

“See? It’s all good, hermano.”

A chorus of relief and mutual reassurances of Allura’s abilities passed through the group. Keith couldn’t bring himself to join them. He knew he probably didn’t need to worry, and she wouldn’t want him to besides, yet in his gut, a tiny black seed of doubt was taking root.

———————————

While the others were busy with stories, Allura was racing through the reality of them. Every turn showed her new ways the Druids had defaced the temple, almost making her wish one would find her so she might deliver long-overdue justice. Remnants of its true face stayed her wrath, however, such as the mosaics seemingly grown from the walls themselves, each depicting what appeared to be the Lions defeating various enemies throughout millennia. If only she could appreciate them properly; now and then, a Druid would draw near, forcing her to hide however she could. The corridors’ lack of defining features wasn’t helping.

“Blasted labyrinth,” she mumbled, pausing to catch her breath. “How am I ever to find my way without—” Two figures passed by ahead. She might’ve thought them Druids were they not dressed in luminous white, hemmed with bronze. “Guides!”

She sprang after them, narrowly keeping her feet under her as she rounded the corner. Loud as she dared, she called, “Wait! I beg you!”

In uncanny unison, the pair stopped, turning in a manner which seemed to suggest they knew Allura had been there from the start.

Shaking off the peculiar feeling, she cleared her throat, removed her hood, shifting her skin and clothes back to their proper hues, and bowed deep. “I am Crown Princess Allura Fala Lurhya Vielna, daughter of King Alfor and Queen Melenor of Altea. Wise Keepers of Lycaenia, I beseech you. Guide me so that I may gain the strength to drive back the darkness at both our doors.”

They gazed at her. She gazed back. They kept gazing…

‘…Do they not speak because they cannot hear?’

Then, at length, the Keepers continued on their way. A horrible fear creeped into her mind of the Druids somehow finding a way to control them — a fear swiftly forgotten when the pair paused and glanced over their shoulders at her. On the edge of her hearing, a dim sound lilted from far away. They were beckoning her to follow.

“You are most gracious,” she said, joining them and re-donning her hood.

As they walked, she took a moment to fully absorb their appearances: their angular, mask-like faces, without mouth or nose; owlish eyes of obsidian that, if one looked deep enough, glinted with exotic colors; and the patterns of their robes, designed as a tribute to all they protected and served, not to obscure and intimidate. Allura never had liked the Druids’ cloaks, even before the war.

Her musings came to an end upon reaching a doorway, the Keepers sweeping their arms toward it. She entered and saw…well, nothing. The room was black as ink, the light from the hallway reaching only a few feet.

“Why have you brought—”

Vanished. No matter where she turned, she could find neither the door nor the Keepers. Vivid memories of when she was small and feared sleeping in the dark filled her mind, and she quickly conjured an orb of light, sending it above her head, though it illuminated little.

“Very well. Let the trial begin.”

Drawing a steadying breath, she continued in what she hoped was the right direction, searching for a clue of what she needed to do. How many steps she took, she was unsure, but the deeper Allura went, the thicker the darkness seemed to become.

A shadow darted past.

She whirled around, orb before her hand, ready to become a weapon. It was already gone. Heart pounding, she pushed forward, only for another to nip at her cloak with a hissing whisper. Faster and faster they came, their words distorted and clawing, the black swallowing her lights regardless of how many she conjured. She swung her staff; the voices grew louder, sharper. Hands snagged her clothes from all sides, yanking this way and that. Her feet were moving before she realized. The shadows swiped at her relentlessly, driving her farther and farther into the darkness, her only instinct to get away as yet more echoes gave chase, making her ears ring. Keep running — just keep running!

Something snagged her foot. Her forehead collided with the ground, sending biting pain through her skull. Shaking herself off, she moved to stand when the many voices condensed into one, clear and melodious, and not unlike her own.

“Allura.”

Her heart stuttered. There, standing over her, gown of deep pink and graceful white delicately rustling in the afternoon breeze, was Queen Melenor of Altea.

She sighed just the way she always had when exasperated with her daughter’s antics, and said, “How many times must I tell you not to run up the stairs?”

Stairs? Allura turned and, sure enough, a flight of them stretched out below. However, they were not the hued stone of the temple; they were sleek white metal, curved and tall, leading to the foyer of the Castle of Lions, the gates open, allowing streams of Alteans to flow freely as they went about their daily tasks, the shining capital city stretching out beyond. Her home, exactly how she remembered it.

“Are you hurt, dear?” her mother asked, noticing her dazed expression.

Allura used her staff to stand and replied, “N-No, I simply… How is this possible? How are you here? You…”

Melenor furrowed her brow, cupping her daughter’s cheek in concern. Her hand — her soft, gentle, steadfast hand. Oh, how Allura had missed that touch. Tears sprang to her eyes as she threw her arms around her. Ancients, it even smelled like her!

“Mother,” she half-wailed.

Though surprised at first, Melenor was quick to return the embrace. “Shh, shh, shh. Oh, sweetest heart, whatever is the matter? Did those boys attempt to pull you into one of their schemes again?”

A choked laugh bubbled from Allura’s throat. She pulled back, sniffing and wiping her cheeks. “No, no. I am simply…happy to see you.”

“I am glad to see you as well,” said Melenor, still a tad confused as she tucked a loose strand into her daughter’s bangs. “Would you like to see your father? He should be back by now.”

“Can we?!”

She laughed. “The two of you are so excitable, I swear.”

Hand in hand, mother and daughter set off.

———————————

Metal groaned and parted, allowing a fleeting glimpse of light before it closed again behind the Altean shuttle, its white hull almost marred by simply being in such a twisted place. The Druid levitating it set it in the center of the main hall. Others of the coven gathered around it.

“So, the little princess has paid us a visit,” said one.

“Come to increase her power, no doubt,” said another.

“Then we must destroy her,” hissed a third, “before she can gain whatever knowledge she seeks.”

The first replied, “Her allies may hide nearby. Any act against her would incite retaliation, and potentially lead to our own destruction.”

“If the Lions were here, we would sense them.”

“We should be able to sense her as well, yet we cannot.”

“Regardless,” said a new, glacial voice, cutting through the murmurs like a dagger, “we must draw them out.”

The other Druids bowed their heads as he walked by, the gold trim of his unique robes glinting in the half-light; a testament to his place in Lady Haggar’s inner circle. A hollow chill followed his every step.

He ran a hand over the pristine hull of the shuttle. “The young fools will arrive not as saviors, but as insects caught in our web. And I know exactly how to make the dear princess call for her knights. As for finding her…” He chuckled, low and void of mirth. The metal beneath his palm cracked, “…just follow the magic.”

———————————

Chatter echoed through the castle like music, the hallways aglow with life. Technicians and scientists, noblemen and courtiers, couriers and drones; everywhere Allura looked, Alteans abounded, any who noticed her bowing as they passed.

“Just how it was before,” she murmured, basking in her home’s beauty.

“This morning?” said Melenor. “It ought to be.”

They shared a laugh, though one was a touch nervous. Just then, three children raced by — two boys and a girl — giggling merrily in their game of chase. Allura’s eyes lingered on them with a longing smile.

“…a tactical strike at this instillation will allow us a direct path to the heart of the Galra Empire.”

Her mind did a “double-take,” as the Earthlings said, and she hurriedly backtracked to the open door — only to find nothing more than a classroom, the holographic teacher pausing her long-winded lecture on Cerentian etiquette. Allura blinked hard. Had it not been a war room with a general briefing his troops a moment ago? Whispers from the students regained her attention, some confused, many excited that the princess was paying them a visit, even in such an odd manner. Straightening, she waved sheepishly.

“Allura, is everything alright?” asked Melenor, joining her daughter at the door, and making the students sit up straighter.

“Yes, yes,” she replied a little too quickly, “everything is fine. I…thought I saw something odd, that is all.” She turned back to the class. “Apologies for interrupting.”

On they went, yet Melenor’s face now shone with concern. “Are you certain you are well?”

An excuse fit for Coran was on the tip of Allura’s tongue when another spoke up. “She might be doing better were she to attend ‘er own lessons instead of eavesdropping on ozers’.”

She barely refrained from rolling her eyes. DAIAK was crotchety as ever. Taking the form of a sour-faced, matronly woman, the artificial intelligence (whose name stood for ‘Digital Archivist and Instructor of Altean Knowledge’) was responsible for the care and education of every noble child in the capital, and even served as Allura’s governess when she was small. Times, evidently, had not changed — nor had the look her mother fixed her with.

“And what, pray tell, would that mean, dearest?” she asked.

Allura shrank, tapping her pointer fingers together. “Oh, well, um…I may have, possibly, missed a lesson…or two? Nothing to be concerned about, of course.”

“Today makes seven absences,” said DAIAK flatly.

She’d never wanted to slug an AI so much in her life.

The queen narrowed her eyes. The princess inched away.

“We’d better not keep Father waiting!” she suddenly blurted, then took off in a flash.

“Do not run away from this!” Melenor and DAIAK called in unison. “Do not run away from your duty!”

Allura stopped, nearly slipping on the polished metal. She turned around…but they were gone. The corridor was silent, not a soul to be seen, and entirely different. How had she gotten to this part of the castle? She couldn’t have run so far in mere seconds, could she?

A door sat at the end of the hallway. Gloom seemed to hang over it, despite the lights working perfectly. Stepping through, she came to a luxuriously large balcony, the whole of the capital city below sprawling to the horizon, shining with unmatched splendor in the amber sun of late afternoon while ships filled the skyways and peoples of all species milled to and fro on the streets far below. The wind carried with it a thousand sounds and scents of childhood, and Allura devoured them all.

The whish of the door behind her made her ear twitch before Alfor’s amused voice rang out, “You beat us here again? Coran spoke true: you could outrun Red.”

Unbridled elation filled her as she turned and saw her parents. Not holograms, not mere pictures; both of her parents, alive and together and smiling at her, just as they always had. She ran and flung her arms around them, squeezing with all her strength.

“A day for hugging, is it?” said Melenor, both holding her in turn.

“I, for one, am not complaining,” said Alfor, “especially since this will be our last.”

“…What?” Allura pulled back, her veins turning to ice. “What do you mean? W-We just got here.”

He looked a touch puzzled. “Until your mother returns from her diplomatic mission to Cerentia, of course.”

Her stomach dropped to the floor.

Cerentia, the first planet the Galra attacked. The planet where her mother died.

“No, you can’t!” she cried, gripping her parents with vice-like hands. “Please, Father, you cannot let her!”

“Allura,” said Melenor in astonishment.

“What has gotten into you?” asked Alfor, bewildered.

“I…” How was she to tell them? How were they to believe? She channeled every ounce of sincerity and pleading she had into her eyes. “Please. Send someone else — anyone else. Any other diplomat could take your place.”

A peculiar hardness entered Melenor’s gaze; not cross or disapproving, but quietly stern. Prying her daughter’s hands away, she held them in her own, gentle yet firm in a way only a mother’s could be.

“My dear girl, tell me, would you think any less of your father were he not a Paladin, merely king?”

Allura hurriedly replied, “Of course not! But that isn’t—” Her words dried up like an old well, and she had to swallow thickly to speak again with proper diction. “No, I would not.”

Melenor nodded as though she already knew her daughter’s heart. “A warrior’s strength is in his mettle, just as a leader’s — or an Alchemist’s — is in his voice. To speak for those unheard, lift up those trampled by the wicked, and bring disparate people together, that is a queen’s purpose, no matter the risk to herself.”

Tears pricked at Allura’s eyes, her throat burning with stifled, flimsy arguments. She hated that she understood her mother’s words and felt their truth, and hated even more how a part of her agreed with it.

“But no words can turn back time. Their strength lies in the future they can create, and it is there you must look now, not to me. So I must go, and you must stay, so that our people can have a future…even if I am not part of it.”

She fell into Melenor’s embrace once more, and whispered in a small, shaky voice, “Please…stay.”

“I will see you again, my sweetest heart. Count on it.” With some difficulty, she pulled back to place a kiss on her little girl’s forehead — for she truly was little, no older than six years of age, just as she had been on that fateful day.

“I love you.” A soft whisper on the wind, and her mother’s touch slipped away.

Allura’s gaze turned to the sky as an engine sounded high above. Melenor’s ship was leaving Altea, never to return.

She ran after it, all the way to the edge of the balcony, crying out, “Mama! Mama, please! Mama!”

Alfor wrapped his arms around her, silently holding her back. On and on she wailed and wept, desperately reaching for someone she hardly knew, yet loved with every fiber of her young being. But she was just a child. There was nothing she could do.

Neither was there anything she could do as explosions rang through her beloved city, decimating buildings that had stood for millennia in a matter of tics, and ships fell from the sky in balls of fire. The relentless march of robotic feet thundered through the crumbling streets; the throes of screams could hardly be heard above it.

The sun was gone. Altea was burning.

Allura’s struggles gained new vigor. “We must do something, Father!”

“There is nothing to be done,” he replied. His voice, both his and not, chilled her to her soul. “Our home is gone. It’s been gone for a long time.”

Horror, grief, despair, and so much more; the hurricane of emotion swelled and burst forth in a flash of magic. His hold now broken, Allura raced back inside the castle, her true form returned, though in her gown. She hoped to find help. She swiftly saw she should not have hoped at all.

Bodies lined the halls.

The students sat slumped in their seats, glassy eyes flickering with twisted shadows in the violet light of the Galra’s insignia; civilians who had tried to flee, praying to find sanctuary within these walls, lay in piles, children still holding their parents’ hands; noblemen and commanders hung from the walls, pinned by wicked spears as though they were sick trophies. Every cruel design, every nightmare she’d had ever dreamed, all were made real.

Her stomach turned over, her hand flying to her mouth, yet she didn’t slow. She couldn’t. There was still one chance: the Paladins. The Paladins had the power to stop this; they could make things right!

They were on the bridge. Her companions — her friends — were scattered, their bodies limp and lifelessly dull.

Dead.

Allura’s legs gave out. She didn’t stop the broken, scratchy wail from tearing out of her throat. All was lost. Everyone and everything she’d ever cared about had been taken from her again, because she was too weak to save them.

Useless. Failure. Unworthy.

The words swirled around in her mind over and over and over again, driving her tears like hail, and preventing her from seeing the smiles leering from the shadows.

———————————

In the real castle, Keith wandered the hallways. He’d already gone several rounds with the training bots, and yet his thoughts were still stuck in a loop.

‘She didn’t set check-in times. How’re we supposed to know something’s wrong if she gets knocked out or captured? Ugh, come on, get a grip. Allura can take care of herself. …But what if—’

CLANG-BANG-CRASH

“Bro!”

“Not my fault!”

He forced his muscles to relax, hand falling away from where it had almost drawn his knife. Poking his head into the kitchen, he was met with a bizarre sight: Pidge sat at the island counter, waving her laptop around like she was trying to find wi-fi in the Amazons to protect it from the spray of food bits Lance and Hunk were sending every which way in their wrestling match while Rover used a tray to protect the array of snacks and sweets already prepared. At least no cutlery was flying.

“The heck is going on in here?” called Keith over the ruckus.

Even the debris seemed to stop as they all turned to him.

“Oh, hey, man,” said Lance as if climbing his friend to reach the artichoke-like vegetable he was holding out of reach was normal. (Maybe it was for them.)“We’re trying to make every Earth dessert we can think of.”

“Excuse you, I’m the one doing the work,” said Hunk, finally bucking him off. “You two were just supposed to taste test, but the second a Hispanic dish comes up, it’s all ‘You’re doing it wrong.’”

“Well, you were!”

“We don’t have masa harina, Lance, I need to improvise!” He smiled calmly at Keith then, saying, “Feel free to join in, there’s plenty.” In the same breath, he whipped around and smacked Lance’s hand away from a pot with a serving spoon. “Stop it!”

The pair were quick to resume their antics, Keith watching in bewilderment. Still, he had nothing better to do, so why not? He took the seat next to Pidge and began apathetically munching on something resembling a muffin, only flatter and more…pink. A sad squeak drew his attention to the mice, who were gathered off to the side, also snacking, though without any of their normal enthusiasm, their drooping ears and whiskers making their movements appear even slower. Almost absentmindedly, Keith scratched behind Platt’s ear, making the large mouse perk up, if only a smidge.

Pidge, picking some debris off her screen in disgust, said, “Allura better appreciate all this.”

He went stiff and looked up. “What do you mean?”

“The food,” said Hunk, employing the stiff-arm-to-the-face maneuver. “Coran told me Allura likes sweets, so I decided to make a treat buffet for her big, triumphant return, you know? And it would be going a lot faster if someone would let me work.”

Lance slipped closer to a tray, seasonings in his hand, his voice strained and absurdly accented. “But it yearns for the extra spice—”

SMACK

“No!”

Keith’s appetite, already dubious, vanished completely. He gave the muffin to the mice, who blinked at him in surprise, and crossed his arms, hunching slightly and leaning against the countertop, eyes downcast. As she dodged another rogue splatter, Pidge noticed his low brows and darkened gaze.

“You still brooding over what Alfor and Coran told us?” she asked.

“Seriously?” said Lance, pausing in his hostile takeover. “Dude, chill. She’s a magical, ancient, alien princess. If anybody can beat some trial in a dusty old temple, it’s her.”

Hunk suddenly looked up, grabbed him, and hurled him out of the kitchen. He bounced a few feet, squeaking like a chew toy, before landing with a defeated groan while his friend let out a victorious “Ha ha!”

“The whole reason she went to Lycaenia,” Keith replied, not missing a beat, “was to improve because she’s a novice sorceress. Allura’s strong, but a fully-trained Druid is out of her league.”

Rubbing his abused hand, Lance sat beside him with a huff and said, “Oh, you mean like they were out of your league, Mr. I-Fight-Cultists-In-Secret-Buildings-While-Ignoring-My-Teammate-Telling-Me-It’s-A-Brain-dead-Idea?” Keith ducked his head an inch at the reminder. “Yeah, why exactly are you of all people getting so worked up about this?”

“I mean, if you think about it,” said Hunk, “that actually kinda makes him the expert on the subject. Besides, I think it’s sweet of him to worry so much.”

“Aw, so sweet,” crooned Pidge, leaning her head onto Keith’s shoulder, a hand over her heart. Her signature gremlin grin appeared, and she began poking his cheek. “I dare say he’s going soft on us.”

“I dare say you’re right. Quick, check his vitals,” said Lance in mock concern, doing the same to his arm and side. “Ah, it’s as I feared: a big ol’ softie on the inside.”

Harder and harder they poked and prodded, giggling mercilessly with Hunk and Rover, ignoring the whoosh of the door, until at last, Keith snatched both of their hands in a death grip. Strangled yelps replaced laughter. The pair struggled to free themselves from his iron hold, Pidge propping a foot against him for leverage.

Shiro spoke up as he passed, having caught the end of their conversation. “Oh, yeah, total softie.” Kieth grumbled at his brother ruffling his hair and let go, sending the troublemaking duo careening to the floor. “Lance does have a point, though.”

“He does?” asked Hunk.

“I do?” asked Lance, he and Pidge popping over chairs and teammates alike in wonder.

“Even if she isn’t a master yet,” Shiro went on, “magic is Allura’s area of expertise, just like cooking or tech are for the rest of us. That being said, concern and faith aren’t mutually exclusive. We just have to make sure it doesn’t turn into doubt. She’ll be back. For now—”

“I know. Patience.” Sighing, Keith leaned back in his chair, arms and expression still crossed.

“Actually, I was going to say we should make sure these desserts aren’t poisoned.” Eyes shifting about as though he were stealing a wallet, with a smirk, Shiro snagged a cream puff from the end of the counter and took a bite, practically melting as the delectable flavors hit his tongue.

Hunk laughed, happy he was enjoying them so much. The others followed his lead, and soon, conversation was flowing, punctuated by full mouths and laughter.

Kieth wanted to join them — he really did — but still he couldn’t shake the unease plaguing his gut. Scooting his chair back, he stood and left. Shiro sighed through his nose at the sight. He wasn’t the only one who noticed, though. At the end of the hall, Keith caught the patter of many tiny feet and chirps, and pausing found the mice on his tail.

“Uh, do you need something?” he asked.

They glanced between each other and the floor, some tapping their front paws together in a similar fashion to Allura on the rare occasion she got nervous. Then, with an abrupt squeak, the smallest of the bunch — Chulatt, if he remembered correctly — wrapped her arms around herself and started shivering; Platt held his rotund belly and wobbled from foot to foot with inflated cheeks, as if too stuffed to take another step; likewise, Chuchule sat and rubbed her back paws, letting out a pitiful wailing kind of sound. Plachu just face-palmed at their lackluster performances.

The corner of Keith’s mouth curled into a hint of a smile, and he knelt, holding out his hand. They chittered happily and gratefully, and scurried up to his shoulders where, to his surprise, they didn’t stop, instead ducking inside his tall jacket collar and nestling themselves around his neck. Goosebumps raced over his skin; they were a bit chilly, actually.

A now-familiar ping went off in the back of his head before Alfor spoke. “They like you.”

“They miss her,” said Keith, a touch harsher than he’d intended.

“…I know.”

The silence stretched on awkwardly, questions whirling around in his head, like why Alfor would send his own daughter into what was potentially a wolf’s den.

As though sensing his thoughts, Alfor, a weariness weighing his words, said, “Please do not think this decision was made without consideration. Allura, I believe, is at a crossroads. Risk does not negate reward, nor should fear negate the will to push beyond ourselves. The temple and its trials will not only increase her skills as an Alchemist, but also grant clarity for her demons, something I know you understand better than most, my boy.”

Though his tone wasn’t unkind, it was firm and regal in a way only a king could speak. It was almost funny; with how casually he let the Paladins treat him, it was easy to forget this man had once ruled an entire planet, to say nothing of his own history flying the Red Lion. What a life he must’ve lived — and what wisdom he must’ve gained. Keith was quiet, caught between understanding and frustration.

‘But we’re supposed to watch out for her. How are we supposed to do that if she doesn’t let us?’ The irony of the thought kept it firmly in his throat. He was painfully aware of his own tendency to jump into danger (an awareness Lance had so aptly added to).

Yet again sensing his turmoil, Alfor laid a hand on his shoulder. A burst of warmth filled Keith at his touch, and from somewhere deep inside, Red purred, fierce and reassuring, seeming to swear that anyone who dared to touch the princess would face his wrath. Keith didn’t doubt it. He supposed he shouldn’t doubt Allura, then, either, and he was proud to say he truly didn’t; but the chinks in her supposedly flawless armor were growing clearer by the day. She wasn’t invincible.

“Come,” said Alfor, drawing him back to reality. “We are missing all of the fun.”

Guided back to the kitchen, Keith scratched Chuchule’s chin, doing his best to focus on her and the other mice messing with his long hair rather than the nagging voice in his head. He did want to believe in Allura, it was simply hard.

‘Please prove me wrong, Princess. Please.’

———————————

Allura’s eyes ached. Her throat ached. Her heart ached.

She’d made several attempts to stand, but every time she lifted her head, her tears renewed and she sank back down. Why should she get up anyway? There was noting left to fight for, no one left to save.

“I’m so, so sorry,” she sobbed. “I’ve failed you… I’ve failed everyone. If only I had trained more…”

Her gaze found Keith’s, dull and blank as the rest of the Paladins’. Keith, who trained every day, who pushed himself above and beyond constantly, yet had met the same fate as the others, his bayard just out of reach on the floor.

…On the pristine floor.

The realization struck Allura like a bolt of lightning. No scorch marks, no gashes; not a scratch or stain to be found. How was that possible? ‘Well, magic could—’

Magic. The Druids!

The illusion disintegrated in a whirlwind, her adventuring gear returning. Mocking laughter, black as a moonless night, surrounded her.

“How dare you…” she said into the vortex, standing, staff in her trembling hand, voice rising with every word. “How dare you twist my memories. How dare you use my family and home as puppets! AND HOW DARE YOU TREAT MY FRIENDS’ LIVES LIKE PROPS IN YOUR SICK PLAY!”

She cried out with all her fury, and a massive wave of energy erupted from her, shattering the false reality entirely. The three Druids responsible were thrown back, stunned. Though the darkness of the room remained, it wasn’t quite so stifling as before, allowing Allura to see her targets and attack.

Stone cracked beneath her staff; magic surged in all directions, an ugly clash of yellow and magenta; but for all her effort, the Druids’ abilities well surpassed hers, and they soon blasted her through a wall. She furiously climbed to her feet when a chuckle rang out. Whirling around, she saw she was now in a wide, vaulted corridor lined with twin rows of pillars, one of which stood out of place between the two lines, made entirely out of some unnatural, dark, ice-like crystal, and atop it stood a Druid clad in gold-trimmed robes bearing a Galran sigil, his mask longer and more angular than the rest’s — a bird of prey waiting upon his roost.

“Well done completing our trial, Princess,” he said in a mocking, creeping, hissing voice that crackled like ice. “I am Yngval, head Druid of this coven and temple, and I—”

Pale gold energy splintered the pillar he’d been standing on in a scorching blast.

“You are head of nothing! Before this day is done, I will wipe your poison from the face of this world!” said Allura, her face twisted in rage.

From the shadows, Druids emerged, surrounding her. Yngval reappeared in their midst, frost clinging to his robes. “We welcome the challenge.”

Outnumbered and outmatched. Allura didn’t think twice. Igniting the electrical current in her staff, she channeled her magic through it and swept the tip around her in a spin, close to the ground. Fire blazed forth, forcing the ring of sorcerers to widen. She charged at Yngval, knocking aside the two Druids who tried to intercept her. They screamed at the electricity’s touch. But that didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was destroying this corrupter — this deceiver! With a rattling battle cry, she leaped high and brought her weapon, surging with power, down.

Yngval looked up, his face no longer his own.

“Plan to kill me?” said Coran.

Allura’s breath left her.

Dark magic struck her stomach, knocking her back to the ground with a cry. She pushed herself upright, mind spinning. All around, shadows contorted, glimpses of loved ones dancing through them with empty stares.

“Just like you killed us?”

Her lungs wouldn’t work; her vision swam; her ears burned with cruel, biting laughter.

“Enough!”

She plunged her staff into the floor. Magic exploded forth, banishing the darkness — and shattering the stone.

Gravity took her.

An instant and eternity eclipsed Allura before she slammed not into the far ground, but a pool, plunging deep beneath its surface. Instinct took hold and she clawed her way up, gasping and sputtering upon breaching the veil of water. Frantically, she searched for the nearest bank and swam to it, hauling herself out, and there on the pebbly shore, her strength left her, as though siphoned by the chill of her soaked garments.

It was far later than she would’ve preferred when the fuzziness at last left her head and she was able to sit up, craning her neck to the hole high above from which hollow laughter still echoed. Anger flaring once more, she stood and walked around the hidden pond, her hand trailing against the wall. There had to be a way out — there had to be! But one second later, she was back where she started.

‘Going in circles again, are we?’ a treacherous whisper hissed from the recesses of her mind.

She shook it away and began pacing. If she couldn’t walk or climb out, she would simply levitate herself out. There was only one problem with this plan: she was exhausted. Every inch of her yearned to sleep this dreadful day away, but she was leagues from her bed, from the safety and warmth of the castle she would give anything to be in right now. And even had she the energy, she realized, Yngval and his snakes would be waiting for her. Likely the only reason they’d yet to finish her off was to watch; watch as she languished in these depths, bedraggled, bruised, and trapped. Helpless. The word struck her core like a dagger, and immediately she set herself to concocting every possible scenario of escape. They all ended badly.

“There must be a way to win.” Yet Allura could not see it.

Her pacing slowed. Her staff dropped to the pebbles, followed by her knees. Hunched and feebly rubbing her arms to rekindle some semblance of warmth, she stared at her reflection in the pool, a thousand emotions raging inside, hardly any of which she could name — one more thing she couldn’t do.

The water stirred, as if ruffled by an unfelt wind. Then it was her mother staring back at her. Panic spiked within. Another trick?

“Child, why are you sitting here?” asked Melenor, concerned.

Deception or no, Allura couldn’t help replying, a tremble in her voice. “Well, I would love to leave, but as you can see, I can’t! And if you were truly here to help, you would be showing me the way out instead of questioning me!”

“I question because you already have a means of escape.” Melenor gestured to her wrist.

“Absolutely not!” she said vehemently, covering the computer cuff (despite having one on each arm). “This trial is mine. I am no damsel in need of saving.”

Her mother raised a sharp brow. “Except by me, it would seem.”

Allura opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again, and closed it again. Arguments with her mother always ended with her losing. In the moment, she’d hated it; now she yearned for those lost years so awfully it ached. She reached out, only for her touch to distort the image.

She curled in upon herself, eyes stinging and throat tight. “I wish you were here.”

Soft hands cupped her cheeks. Gasping, she looked up and saw Melenor suspended over the pool, her ghostly form shining with ethereal light, her gown and hair flowing in an eternal river.

“As do I,” she said, her melodic voice rippling and returning from some distant land. “But this is your path now, and the greatest choice you can make is whether you will walk it alone.”

Then the vision drifted away and vanished into the dim light shining on the mirror pond, leaving Allura grasping for something that wasn’t there. With unshed tears blurring her sight, she considered her mother’s words. Slowly, as her skin dulled to grey, she activated her SOS beacon.

———————————

AWOOP AWOOP AWOOP

Startled, Lance spit out the copious amount of fizzy beverage bloating his cheeks. Keith, now pink and sticky from head to toe, gave him a flat look as he swallowed his own mouthful, particularly annoyed since he’d finally agreed to this chugging contest after several minutes of cajoling. It did little to distract from the alarm, however, and everyone was swiftly on their feet. They turned to Coran and Alfor, both of whom wore stricken expressions. No one needed to ask to know the mission.

“Go,” said Alfor.

Shiro nodded, then turned to the others. “You heard the man. Let’s move!”

They were in their Lions in record time (thankfully, changing clothes also removed all stickiness), charging through the still-open wormhole. All Coran and Alfor could do was pray for their safety and success.

“What do you think we’re up against?” said Pidge.

“Whatever it is,” Lance replied, “it ain’t got nothin’ on…us…”

The life drained from his voice as they passed the atmosphere and clouds, and saw the scar that was the once-green valley.

“What could do this?” asked Hunk in a hollow, horrified tone.

Shiro’s prosthetic tightened around the control column. He had an idea, he just hoped he was wrong. So, of course, he wasn’t.

An electric ping, like those he’d felt while fighting the Druid in the quintessence refinement plant, shot through Keith’s mind. “Watch out!”

Lance would’ve complained about getting slammed into had he not seen the blast of dark energy that tore by. More followed, forcing the Lions into a mad scramble. Down below, several contingents of Druids were arranged in front of the temple, magic circles pulsing beneath their feet, some crafting shields while the rest loosed attack after attack, most of the time taking the form of crackling, grasping hands. The Paladins were quick to retaliate. Some stray shots hit the temple, but there wasn’t time to worry about it; radars sounded in warning.

“Bandits,” Lance called out, “coming in at two-ten!”

From out of the heavy clouds came a horde of black shapes — or rather, a flock. Black birds, giant, gaunt, and vulture-like, careened toward them, each carrying a Druid on their back, swiftly adding to the chaos in the darkening skies.

“Ugly birds. Great,” said Shiro almost to himself as one swooped past, then raised his voice over the alarms. “Alright, listen up: Pidge, Keith, use your Lions’ powers to slip down to the surface, find Allura, and get her out. The rest of are on decoy duty.”

“Hoo-yeah!” said Lance.

“Aw, man,” groaned Hunk.

“On our way.” Ensuring Green was fully cloaked and on his tail, Keith dove toward an opening in the Druids’ defenses.

It was difficult to stay ahead of the attacks and go just slow enough to keep Pidge close; despite already firing back, Red was chomping at the bit, eager to get planet-side; Green had to push herself to keep up while maintaining camouflage. In the end, it made little difference. Via her powerful aura, enhanced by the veil of the cloak, a Druid near the edge of their circle let loose a tangle of lightning, clipping her shoulder.

“Pidge!” cried Keith.

Her shriek only lasted a moment, however, before she righted herself and called back, “Don’t stop, I’m alright! I’ll go help the others!”

She peeled off, rejoining the frenzy. His instincts flared, demanding he cover her, but he forced it back, and setting his sights back on the temple, he resolved to make this the fastest rescue in history. Red approved. With an almost triumphant roar, as if gloating about being let off his chain, he sped up, weaving through the flares of dark magic like a serpent. He didn’t forget the offense against his “sister,” though. The second he got close, he fired his plasma beam at he ground and dragged it along, melting the courtyard into a lava field, disrupting many magic circles, and softening the unsightly metal doors just in time for him to burst through, knocking them clattering into the main hall beyond, a space barely big enough for him.

Blue spared a blast to seal the hole behind him with a thick layer of ice, Lance saying, “Hey, don’t get too flashy with saving the princess. I’ve still got first dibs.”

Rolling his eyes and checking that the coast was clear, Keith activated Red’s particle barrier and headed out.

Thanks to the ruckus outside, the corridors were practically deserted. He only needed to hide a couple times, and the few Druids he encountered were too preoccupied with defending their stolen land to notice him. The bigger problem was the temple’s labyrinthian layout. Keith followed the SOS the best he could, but every corner he turned seemed to lead back to the same hallway, making him feel like he was going in circles. He skidded to a halt at a T-section he knew he’d been at before and growled.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he grumbled. How was he supposed to find Allura in this place? He wasn’t sure he could find his way out. Shiro’s voice echoed in his swirling head, calming the whirlwind. He took a breath, closed his eyes, and recited the words, “Patience yields focus.”

The air buzzed with faint energy, giving him goosebumps; a strange breeze tousled his bangs despite the visor constricting them. Something brushed against his mind, similar to the pings of Alfor and the Druids, only lighter, almost wider, like a hum. Keith turned around. Two Keepers stood there, silent as their namesake, watching him.

He swallowed, his throat feeling oddly tight suddenly, and asked, “Do you know where Allura is?”

Part of him questioned the wisdom of using her name when he had no guarantee they even knew she was there, and yet it was out of his mouth before he could stop it, and didn’t feel wrong. In fact, he could swear a melodic sound was tickling the deepest edge of his hearing, as if in approval and greeting. Then, with perfectly synchronized, mirrored movements, the Keepers gestured down a corridor where a simple archway waited.

“Thank you,” said Keith, bowing.

Their gazes weighed on him as he ran, both unnerving and reassuring in a way he couldn’t explain. Far sooner than he expected, he stepped through the opening, and had to force himself to stay upright; an overwhelming, though fleeting, vertigo made his head spin. He looked behind to ask what that was, but there was no doorway, only an iridescent stone wall.

‘What the…’

A violent tremor from the battle outside knocked him from his confusion. He turned back to the pillared room — more specifically, the sizable hole in the floor, from which, according to his HUD, Allura’s signal was emanating. After ensuring the coast was clear, Keith rushed to the edge, a call on his lips, only for it to get stuck in his chest upon spotting the pond far below. He forced the lump out of his throat and refocused on the shore, zooming in on a blue-clad figure.

“Princess!”

Slowly, she looked up. Her skin was a lifeless grey, as if she were trying to become one with the pebbly shore. Even her markings were dull. She didn’t seem all too thrilled at his presence, and grew more distressed at the next quake, shielding her head from loose dirt and rocks. Quickly evaluating his options, Keith fired his grapple onto the far side of the hole. He tested the ledge’s strength, steadied his breath, and jumped before he had a chance to psych himself out of it, extending the cable as he fell, and swung onto the bank, the smooth pebbles crunching under his feet.

He hurried to Allura’s side and knelt, asking, “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she replied in a tired, sullen tone, not meeting his gaze. It sounded wrong coming from her. “I want to leave.”

The urge to prod further came and went swiftly. Still, he ran a scan just to be sure, and was relieved to find nothing more than bruises. He nodded and held out a tentative hand, remembering their sparring session. Though hesitant, she accepted. With his arm around her waist and hers around his neck, he reeled them up.

Allura’s eyes drifted to the pond, its crystalline waters mockingly still. Half of her hoped for a final glimpse; the other half hoped she never set foot on those banks again. She shifted, burying her face in Keith’s shoulder. ‘What happened?’ and ‘Who do I need to punch?’ were questions he filed away for later; for now, he simply tightened his hold.

DOOM

Stone shuddered around them. The lip holding the cable gave way. A cry tore from Allura’s lips, but they weren’t falling long. Keith activated his booster pack at full blast, and although it protested at the weight of two people, it got them to the ledge, where he latched on like a viper. He helped her climb up, only following once he was certain she was on solid ground, and the pair took a moment to breathe.

“You alright?” he asked.

She hesitated this time, then at last faced him. Her flint-colored cheeks glistened with still-damp tear tracks, eyes red and puffy even in the tinted light. “Yes.”

Any desire Keith might’ve worked up to finally push for answers was thoroughly dashed by a writhing, hissing, wordless whisper from a nearby doorway, the sound echoing against the vaulted ceiling. Druids were coming, and fast. Cursing under his breath, he swiftly yet carefully grabbed Allura’s hand, pulled her to her feet, and bolted for the closest exit.

Through winding turn after winding turn, the slithering breaths pursued them, sometimes seeming to bear down from all around them, snapping at their heels. While it made the princess’s heartbeat stutter, it was driving Keith mad. The instant they came to an antechamber, he pivoted and threw several grenades back into the passage, collapsing the ceiling for several yards. He knew it wouldn’t do much to the Druids themselves, though, nor delay them for long, so he kept running.

Her eyes locked on the partial destruction of this sacred temple, and knowing the same was likely happening outside as well, Allura’s stomach twisted with shame, distracting her from the debris littering the floor until she tripped over it. Keith skidded to a halt and doubled back, by her side in a flash to help her up, but she pushed away.

“My fault…” she muttered, stumbling to a chunk of stone felled long ago and sliding to the ground, pulling her cloak tight around her shoulders. “Oh, this is all my fault, I…”

“Princess, we need to keep moving,” he tried to say. Hiccuping breaths stopped him cold. She was crying.

Now he was at a total loss. On the one hand, they couldn’t afford this right now; on the other, forcing her to continue like this was most definitely a terrible idea. Glancing around a moment, as if the walls would offer some solution, he ran a hand over his helmet, forgetting it was in the way of his hair, then knelt close. It took more effort than he’d expected to push down the slivers of memory creeping in at the sight of her curled up, so small and fearful.

“Okay, what’s wrong? And don’t say ‘nothing’ because—”

“Everything!” Allura wailed. “My magic, my home, my family, this blasted war — nothing is as it should be, and if not for me, it would be!”

“How… Zarkon’s responsible for all that, not you. Well, maybe not your magic, but still,” said Keith.

She was deaf to his words. “If I’d been stronger then, if I’d convinced her to stay, none of this would’ve happened. I could have saved everyone. Even now, this precious temple is crumbling to dust because of me. Oh, Mother, I’m so, so sorry…”

Her voice petered out into hapless mutterings which Keith could just make out as a broken record of apologies.

His stomach was in his shoes; his hands flexed, wanting to do something yet unable to. They were only good for breaking things, not wiping away tears. His mind, however, was clear. If I’d convinced her to stay… Yeah, he knew the feeling far too well, so he might not be the best person to help her, but unfortunately, he was all she had right now. It would have to do.

He took her by the shoulders, firmly and gently, and said, “Princess, please listen to me. Even if any of that were true, which I seriously doubt, sitting here feeling sorry for yourself won’t fix anything. Maybe you’re not as skilled as you want to be, but last I checked, you’re the only one of us who knows anything about magic.”

Tears slowing, Allura looked at him, a growing wonder in her eye at this young man who suddenly seemed far older than time allowed.

“What’s past is past, for all of us. Right now, we need you.”

She wanted to believe him — oh, how badly she wanted to — even as black whispers told her it was pointless. And yet, she was beginning to think faith was more of a choice than a mere feeling.

“Just tell us what to do,” Keith added, a tiny, crooked smile burgeoning on his lips. “You’re good at that, at least.”

She returned it, letting out a tiny huff trying to be a laugh. Then she noticed something: on the wall behind him was etched a mural depicting when the Keepers brought the temple’s heart to Lycaenia. They were kneeling in reverence, the gem flowing with energy and light, casting out the darkness.

The heart…

“Perhaps…” she said slowly, the warm brown of her skin returning, “there is a way.”

Following her gaze, Keith got the idea and asked, “What do you need?”

“Time. As much as you can give.”

“You’ll have it.”

No sooner had she taken his hands and stood than the telltale hissing of Druids wound their way through the rubble in the blocked hall.

“Go,” he said, jutting his head toward the only other way out. “I’ll take care of this.”

Allura nodded, only to pause at he doorway. “Keith!” She took her collapsed staff from her belt and tossed it him. “Electricity can hurt them.”

“Thanks, Princess. Now go make things right.”

A true smile graced her face, and then she was off. With his remaining grenades, he collapsed the passage after her before extending the staff and settling into a ready stance.

“Keith to Black,” he said, opening his comm line, “do you read?”

There was a worrying moment without response, then Shiro’s voice came through, distracted, not hurt. “I read you. Did you find Allura?”

“Yeah, but you’re gonna have to keep up the distraction a bit longer. She has a plan.”

“And we have problems!” Lance yanked the controls so hard they made a concerning err-kack noise. The magic still nicked Blue’s shoulder. The others were in similar situations.

“Don’t know how long we can hold out,” said Shiro.

As the Druids’ shadowy forms contorted through the tiniest gaps in the rubble, their spidery topaz eyes shining with insatiable hunger, and with memories of both times he fought just one of them crowding his mind, Keith replied, “Me neither.”

It wouldn’t stop him, though. Energy crackling at both ends of the staff, he charged.

———————————

The ancient corridors of the temple, once foreboding, now felt strangely welcoming. Allura hadn’t a clue why, but was grateful nonetheless. It seemed to be guiding her, in fact: flecks of shimmering light marked the turns, and the halls were nowhere near as long and winding as they’d been when she arrived. Somehow, somewhere deep in her core, she knew, it wanted her to find its heart.

Much like all living things, every temple had one, regardless of idiosyncrasies in design over the centuries, and from them, their wellspring of power flowed; anchors to the higher plane. Should she reach it in time and be allowed to connect with it, she could very well cleanse this land of its sickness.

‘What makes you think yourself worthy when your trial—’

‘That trial was corrupted,’ she fired back, silencing the doubting voice. Regardless of any test, she needed to do this. She was the only one who could.

Far sooner than she anticipated, she came upon a large door with the Keeper’s insignia. It opened at her approach, and the sight beyond stayed her feet. The chamber was a twisting spiral of diamond-shaped layers, each offset from the one below, creating as close to a dome as the bismuth-like structure could, and in its center, high above, encased in glinting stone and twisting veins of ore, the crystal heart shone with a tranquil blue glow. She raced to it, hope blooming in her chest.

Ice smothered it. The wicked black spikes shot up between Allura and the heart, forcing her to jump back to avoid being skewered, the door sealing behind her. A chill stung the air, accompanied by a now-familiar laugh. From within the dark, unearthly shards, Yngval’s arms emerged, dragging the rest of his body out, as if pulling himself from a frozen grave.

“Come so far, just to fail once more,” he said with sick glee.

Allura pressed her hands together, forming an orb of energy between them, then split it into two. “Not this time.”

The temple shuddered again, and with it, the two clashed, pale gold against sickly violet. Scorch marks and false frost stained the walls from every missed strike; chunks of stone nearly came down on their heads several times, making most every step a hazard, and providing projectiles for both sorcerers. In dodging one such attack, yellow magic blasted a hole in Yngval’s side. He growled and swept his cloak out, the fabric seeming to extend, shadows pouring out of it until the room was drowned in a darkness not even Allura’s power could cut through. Strikes fell from every angle. She twisted round and round, frantically trying to return blow for blow, but it was clear to wasn’t working. Finally, she created a bubble shield…and the attacks stopped.

Dread pooled in her stomach. Why was everything muffled?

BOOM

With a flash of magic, the floor erupted, ice and stone sending her into the ceiling, a cry tearing from her throat.

———————————

In a similar fashion, Keith slammed into a wall.

Although he was holding his own — in large part, thanks to the staff — he’d never been more outmatched in his life. As expected, his shields only provided a brief reprieve before being either drained or circumvented. The idea of using disruptor grenades had crossed his mind, only for him to dismiss it; their charge was electromagnetic, meant for tech, not people, and would shut his armor down if he wasn’t careful.

He stood, regaining his breath in the toying moment the Druids were allowing him, when Lance’s panicked voice sounded over the comm. “Did you do the thing yet?”

“No,” Keith replied.

“Oh, come on!” said Lance, veering around another monstrous hand. “How long is this going to take!?”

The Lions’ shielding was long gone, and in the chaos of the skies, visibility was on its way to joining it. Then, out of nowhere, a glowing tether coiled around Yellow’s leg and yanked him to the ground. His friends rushed to help, and were caught in similar traps, their shouts filling the comlink.

“Guys?” Keith called.

No one answered. The Druids were on him again.

———————————

Allura’s vision swam as she forced herself to her feet, panting. The darkness was lifting just enough for her to make out what could only be Yngval. She charged, light pulsing in both hands, and swung.

She froze. Her battle cry cut off, her power vanishing. An aura of black magic coated her, sending a shiver down her spine she couldn’t react to. Not even her lungs could move.

Yngval stalked closer, lifting her so they were at eye level and dismissing his shadows. “And again, you fall short, just like the rest of your people. Still, you’re not without potential, especially in your hatred. You could join us, cast off this foolish, feckless rebellion, and achieve true power.”

Disgust filled Allura from head to toe. ‘I would rather die.’

“Of course, you don’t have a choice in being brought before the Emperor. I simply thought I’d put the offer out before your execution. Then again, you’ve always wanted to follow in your father’s footsteps, so that could be your chance.”

His hideous cackling fueled the seething fury ignited in her heart, but without the ability to draw breath, it did little more than burn what remnants of air she had left.

In the antechamber, Keith was on his knees, limbs restrained and throat constricted by glowing snares.

Outside, the Lions struggled against their web-like prisons as the Druids consumed their energy.

Black creeped into Allura’s vision, her thoughts growing distant. Weak…

A light appeared then, over Yngval’s shoulder. Melenor smiled, calm and encouraging. One final memory sprang to her fading mind.

“Do you see, dearest?” said her mother, beckoning the towering tree she’d just grown to reach its branches down, the petals tickling the cheeks of the little girl in her arms and making her giggle. “All life is connected, from the tiniest of seeds to the brightest of stars. Yet it is only when hearts open to one another that our truest potential can be found.”

The lesson was simple — so simple, Allura wondered how she ever forgot. Perhaps she’d locked it away with her heart in fear of losing it, too. No more. Though she could feel her life slipping, she reached out.

‘Please…just for a moment…’

The temple reached back.

Yngval let out a mirthless chuckle. “So much for potential—” The light of the crystal swelled. “What—?”

Power surged forth, both from it and Allura. He shrieked at its touch and careened into a pile of boulders, his vision leaving him. Her breath and freedom returned, the princess conjured an orb twice the size of the ones before and sent it into his shoulder, where it exploded, severing an arm and cracking his mask. An inhuman screech tore from his mouth. While he nursed his wounds, she calmly turned and walked onto a low terrace directly beneath the heart.

“What do you plan to do?” asked Yngval with a hoarse, wheezing bark of a laugh. “Take its power for yourself?”

Allura looked back at him — at this thing, this parasite that hid in dark corners and false life, ashamed of the sallow, sunken remnant of a face peeking out of his damaged shell — and replied, “No. Taking is what your kind do. It is time we give back.”

She opened her arms and let the heart’s light wash over her.

Shadows and ice writhed in the hole in Yngval’s body as he forced a new arm to grow, too long, bony, and pure black, his venom dripping from under his mask. He lunged for Allura, claws ready to tear her apart. Yet she neither protected nor retaliated; instead, when she opened her eyes, shining like the dawn alongside her markings, she knelt.

Light flooded the chamber. Yngval let out a last wretched scream, and then he was no more. The wave spread throughout the temple and beyond, sending the Druids back to the shadows they so loved, freeing their captives, wiping every trace of them from the land, and even destroying the metal structures defacing it.

For a moment, Keith was almost pushed back, but held his ground and smiled, knowing this must be the princess’s doing. When the power at last faded and the Lions stood, reinvigorated, the comms exploded with awestruck questions, mostly of what just happened.

Cutting through the chatter, Shiro asked, “Is everyone alright? Where are Allura and Keith?”

“Tracking her now,” Keith replied, his path having been cleared by the building shaking to its core.

“Nope, no-no-nope, I’m rescuing her this time!” said Lance, hopping out of Blue.

The others shrugged and did the same. Naturally, Keith reached the crystal chamber first, and was staggered by its all-encompassing aura, so potent it almost made him forget himself. The sight of Allura’s collapsed form snapped him back to reality. He reached her side as the rest of the team arrived, likewise gathering around her, Shiro cradling her head.

“Is she alright?” asked Hunk.

“Princess, can you hear me?” said Shiro, scared to shake her.

Blearily, her eyes blinked open, widening at the sight of them all there. Then her mouth curled upward, a deep contentment she’d forgotten filling her.

In a croaky voice, she asked, “Did it work?”

“Heck yeah, it did!” Lance replied. “You kicked major Druid butt!”

Allura’s smile widened, casting her gaze to the temple’s heart. “It was not I. I was merely a conduit. It will be some time before I can achieve such a feat alone.”

“Well,” said Shiro, offering a hand, “good thing you’re not alone, then.”

The prosthetic’s claws gave her pause at first, but she shunted her apprehension away and took it. Though unsteady, with his help, she stood, and was surprised when a staff appeared beside her. Keith had that hidden grin again. She accepted his gift gratefully — as a tool, no longer a weapon.

Together, the team made their way through the temple, more splendid than ever even in such a state of disrepair. Sunlight refracted through the gem-like walls and ceiling, bathing them in a soft, otherworldly glow, warm and healing. Upon reaching the courtyard, however, they found the Silent Keepers waiting for them, a hundred in total.

“Uh, they’re not mad at us, are they?” Lance whispered to Pidge.

A pillar tipped over behind them with a loud THOOM.

“I mean…”

Allura stepped forward to apologize, yet at the same moment, the Keepers bowed their heads, and at once, the team got the sense they were congratulating her on what she’d accomplished there, and thanking all of them for getting their squatters to leave. Knowledge may belong to all in their eyes, but unwelcome guests were still a nuisance, no matter how pacifistic the host. The small band returned the gesture.

“Thank you,” said Allura. “For everything.”

Like a sea splitting in two, the Keepers parted, creating a path to their Lions (save Red, who Keith had to double back for). To Lance’s disappointment, the princess took the second seat in Black, and she relished the softness of it, deciding a third bath was her first order of business once they got back.

Observing the rather extensive damage of the temple, Hunk asked, “Shouldn’t we stick around to help them rebuild? I mean, it is our mess.”

“Something tells me they’ve got it covered,” replied Keith.

“Indeed,” said Allura, casting one more glance over the valley as they soared into the sky.

The scar remained, bleak and terrible, but not so dark as it once had seemed. And although the Keepers themselves appeared to have vanished, a faint, lilting song carried on the gentle breeze. On a low hill, from out of the grey soil, a fern sprang up, uncurling its fronds, a rainbow-colored stone growing in square spirals alongside it.

———————————

Bronze evening light cascaded through the bridge, the mice more than happy to soak in the warmth they brought. Allura smiled at them. Overjoyed at her return, they’d refused to leave her side for anything, not even their pre-dinner snack; true devotion. Her gaze drifted down again, resting on the circlet in her hands.

Signaled by the whoosh of the door, Coran entered, saying, “Aha, there you are. Supper is ready. I haven’t a clue what it will be, but since Hunk made it, I’m sure it’ll be delectable, though devoid of the nutrition of my meals.”

His words hung in the air without reply.

“Is something the matter, Princess?”

At length, she answered, “Today was a victory, I know, but I…I cannot help feeling as though I failed. Anger, grief, guilt — I gave into them all. How am I meant to uphold my parents’ legacy when I cannot control my own emotions?”

The mice pressed into her as Coran sat next to her, pondering her query.

“You know, long ago, your father wondered the same.” She looked at him in astonishment. He chuckled. “Yes, yes, very shocking. And I shall tell you what I told him: you’re far from the first or the last to be swept up by emotion. It’s when you allow the shame of it to dictate your future that you will truly stumble. However, even if you do, you have plenty of people around who will gladly help you get up and carry on.”

Tears pricked Allura’s eyes. That was the contentment she’d felt before, she realized, when the Paladins had rescued her: the comfort of family.

“As for legacy,” said Alfor, appearing on her other side, “while I do hope you will keep the memory of your mother and I alive, I hope far more that you will find your own legacy to leave, and I know she would say the same.”

He then took her circlet and slipped it back onto her brow where it belonged. Sniffing back small, happy sobs, she drew them both close, the mice joining in and chirping merrily.

Her legacy… She’d never thought about it before.

It was far sooner than she would’ve liked when the hug ended, Coran and Alfor not wanting to keep everyone waiting. As it turned out they didn’t, at least by a certain definition; they were already messing around a little.

“Really?” Lance was saying, poking Hunk’s face with a sporkful of his palatable food goo. “I get blasted by Druids all afternoon and get fake food for it?”

Hunk gave him an exhausted, scathing look. “Gee, I wonder why.”

“Besides, it’s not like there’s room in the kitchen with all those sweets,” said Pidge, slumped in her chair with a foot on the table.

Shiro was about to tell her to put it back on the floor when Allura asked, her ears perking up, “Sweets?”

The table collectively straightened, Shiro saying, “Hey, glad to see you’re feeling better. Yeah, Hunk wanted to surprise you with a dessert buffet — which we’re not getting into before we eat some real food.”

Lance’s mouth drooped into a pout.

“Well, thank you, Hunk,” she said as she sat down. “I will make certain to leave enough room for them.”

“No problem,” he replied.

“It will be if you eat too many,” said Coran in his matter-of-fact voice. “You need to take it easy, remember? That includes on your stomach.”

She sighed. “Oh, very well.”

‘I’ll simply have the mice swipe some for later.’

Speaking of whom, to her surprise, Chulatt suddenly darted away and up Keith’s arm, settling in the inner crook of his jacket collar.

He shrugged sheepishly at her raised brow. “Apparently, it’s warm.”

Allura scoffed good-naturedly. “Traitor.”

Dinner carried on from there as usual — until the flight maneuvers used during the battle came up. A jab here, a sarcastic comment there, and soon it was getting out of hand, punctuated by a rogue flick of food goo that ricocheted into her face.

All movement stopped.

“Okay, not my fault this time,” said Lance quickly. “I was not aiming for you, I swear—Doh!”

Gaping stares turned from him, now on the ground, to Allura, her arm still raised, spork dripping with goo. A mischievous smirk appeared on her face. Shock gave way to competition. Thus, they laughed the evening away together, food staining everything, and everyone feeling a little bit closer than they had before.

Across leagues of stars, on a planet filled with young life, there stood an ancient castle, and in this castle there lived a princess. Compassionate and brave she was, even in the face of terrible darkness, though she did not face it alone: her friends, noble knights all, aided and protected her, and there were no others she would rather face such danger with, she vowed as the vast horizon of deep indigo ocean swallowed up the last burning rays of sun, ushering the world once more into star-lit slumber.