Disclaimers: She-Ra is owned by Hanna-Barbera, Mattel. I write for enjoyment and the only profit I seek is the enjoyment of others :)
Summary: Shadow Weaver finds out about her past.
Author's note: Very slight cross over with Voltron, lion Force.
Rating: PG
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Secrets of the Past …
For Suz
In horror, Frosta’s crystal blue eyes snapped open, awake in a second from her slumber. Her body shivering, a cold wave penetrating her very Soul. Someone was tying to reach the Oracle Of History, one of Eight Sacred Oracles hidden on Etheria. The cold mist meant it could only be Shadow Weaver.
Anxious, the Guardian of the Oracle, gathered her spindle and burst out of her Castle, in the Kingdom of the Snows, riding the crystallised snow paths, she hurriedly formed.
The Horde Witch stood by at the entrance to the Crystal Cave.
"Ahh … The Secrets of the Dream Weaver await … And I shall have them."
"Not this Day, Wretched One!"
Weaver spun around. "I’ve been expecting you …" Gnarled, but elegant fingers spread, a black mist engulfing the beautiful Snow Empress.
"May the Snows that empower your light …
Now freeze you like the dead of night…"
Her spindle dropping from her hand, Frosta fell to the ground, her life force the Snow, now turning on her, vicious cold ripping through every molecule of her body. Unable to call for help, shivering, desperately trying to warm herself, she lay helpless on the biting, merciless cold Snow.
"May your beauty be frozen for all Eternity, Empress.." Shadow Weaver rasped, bitter as Frosta suffered, her tears crystallised as they fell down her cheeks.
"Please ..." she whispered.
Shadow Weaver grunted.
"You … cannot use the … Oracle for ... destruction… Not … the Dream Weaver … he’s-"
"I will use it to discover his Secret, his powers and increase my own a hundred fold – to take back what that wretched Nowryn took from me!"
"No … Shadow … Weaver … please listen … Dream … Weaver is …"
But the Witch had already entered the crystallised snow caves, leaving Frosta to die in the very substance that gave her life.
Weaver felt the power, the Oracle was near. Continuing to float deep into the Etherian Underworld, unmarred by the cold, she saw a light in the very depths of the Caves. "Ahh … There it is…"
The Witch approached the glowing Crystal Light and stood before the Spectacular Shimmering Oracle.
It’s beautiful … Her first thought being, but she stamped it out. It was the key to her Conquest of Etheria, Eternia and beyond. Hordak would become nothing, a mere worthless bug to be stomped underfoot. She would make the Universe tremble. Her arms raised, dark red cape flowing in the Cave’s winds.
"Oracle Of History … Show me the Secret of the Dream Weaver… Show me his Power…"
"Ask and you shall find ..." A deep but gentle voice resonated from the perfect glowing sphere. "Observe …"
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Enter Dream Weaver ~ Elemental Wizard
A gentle, wise and powerful Wizard of few words, using his powers to serve, protect. Never has he done a single thing to harm another, even those who would shun and ridicule him. Often he will defy the Spirits of the Etherian and Eternian Dimensions, to help those he cares for so much. Although the Spirits have reprimanded him on occasion, they know he is creating from Love, his Love for others and the Force of Life.
He lived as a hermit, secluded, in the Etherian Stone Mountains, hidden by Magic. His Gardens were said to be spectacular, flora of more colours than the rainbow, fresh fruits and vegetables of many worlds. The kind Wizard sustained himself only with the food of the soil, only if he had no other choice, would he eat a living creature. Many animals flock to his abode for his kindness and offerings. The Magical Creator, Heartened to feel he hadn’t been rejected by all.
The few humanoids who had ventured out that far would be looking down into the very valley and not see anything but grass, rocks and trees. Only those who sought the Wizard for a worthy purpose would the Spirits allow to find him, though the Mountain trails had long been deserted by travellers and Magic seekers. Dream Weaver’s tale kept alive only by Travelling Bards.
The Nature Spirits knew the secret to Dream Weaver’s woe, he must find strength within, but they knew he must discover that for himself. He valued his spirituality above all that he had, and hoped one day to teach again.
Dream Weaver’s Soul and Heart, as powerful as his Magic, it is said the gentle, kind Wizard would be just as connected to nature and the Spirits if he had not one Magical bone in his body.
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Enter Hecate ~ Aspiring White Witch/Sorceress
One determined young woman, quit well versed in the ways of Wicca decided to set out to find the Wizard, despite the misgivings of her peers, even her tutor, Morgraine, mother of the one whom would become known as Castaspella, expressed her doubts, however, nothing could deter young Hecate from her Quest. From an early age, she had snuck out at a fair to an old long bearded Bard and listened to his tale of the Dream Weaver, and ever since then, Hecate had wanted nothing more than to learn the ways of the Wizard to help her world.
She almost didn’t make it. A long way was it to the Stone Mountains from Mysticor, a very long way on foot. Carrying only her sac, containing a book of spells, enchanted rope and sustenance, Hecate let nothing deter her.
After hitching many a ride with farmers and other kind folk., her Quest taking her across many lands and seas.
She walked the remaining distance, keeping good time, taking her three and a half days to reach her destination from the shore. Exhausted, she fell asleep at the foot of the largest mountain, on the soft grass, feeling the Mountains’ presence welcoming her. After months of travelling there was no place she’d rather be.
Dream Weaver had sensed something, however he wasn’t quite sure what . He had become withdrawn, his Heart aching to help others, but the Wizard had been rejected by simple folk who feared his power, though the gentle man wouldn’t swat a bog swamp gnat.
Even now she was here, at the foot of the Stone Mountains, Hecate knew her Quest had just begun. She believed her Cause genuine, to seek the Master Wizard and learn from him, not for power or glory, but for knowledge and defence, to help those in need and broaden the minds of the Etherian people, hoping to enlighten the people of Eternia, learning from her Magical Idol, the Sorceress.
Climbing the Mountains proved no easy feat. She had a map of where the valley of Dream Weaver’s dwelling was said to be, but chose to rely on intuition.
A terrible storm struck that night, Hecate, who had been fascinated by thunder since she could remember had never been afraid of storms. This one was different, rocking her to her very core, as though the gates of Hades had burst open with such force, the Heavens trembled.
Unable to see her hand in front of her face, Hecate pushed on. Struggling against gales, torrential rains, she was determined to pass this test. It had crossed her mind that Dream Weaver himself may have conjured up the storm to test her.
The Wizard had not. Hearing the thunderous raging storm, he was content to leave it be. It had been too quiet lately. He sensed a struggle, but had been too depressed to focus. His Heart ached to bring others the Love he felt, to help them, but they would not have him. He had been secluded for so long, the man was too stubborn to admit he was lonely.
As hard as Hecate fought, it seemed though it was a losing battle. The battered map flew out of her hands, torn to shreds by the angry storm, her sac slipping off her shoulder as she slipped into a crevice. Hecate yelped with fright, but angry and determined, she clawed her way out and resumed her blind struggle against the storm.
Dream Weaver’s head snapped up as he sensed fear, longing and desperation. Someone was caught in this wild storm. He gathered his Crystal Wand and ventured forth, fine tuning his senses. Even with pushing the wind and rain from him, still he found it hard to focus.
Hecate’s shriek, lost to the winds as she lost her footing and fell, terrified, not so much of death, but that she failed in her Quest, … She didn’t want to believed that she wasn’t worthy of Dream Weaver’s wisdom.
The kind Wizard sensed terror and longing and caught a flash of someone falling. Instinctively, his hands flew out, from them, a cushion of Magic, easing her fall.
Hecate felt the cushion and through the storm, she thought she saw the face of the Dream Weaver and smiled. If she would die here, she would die knowing that she had been worthy.
She had indeed seen the Dream Weaver, his Heart encompassing this young woman, taking her into his home as well as his life, Heartened that someone had cared so much to undertake such an Gargantuan enlightening Quest.
He learned that the Spirits had conjured up the storm to test both he and Hecate. She had found him and he had found his light, and realised he never lost it. There were those that loved him. Dream Weaver, ashamed to admit that he had let the energies of those who had hurt him bring him down.
The Wizard, more than happy to teach her, enlightened by the Love of this woman he barely knew, igniting once more the flame in his Heart and Soul. Teaching the young White Witch there was more to Magic than she dreamed.
True Magic lay in one’s spirit, not in an instrument, such as a wand, book of spells or a crystal ball, though nice to have J True Magic cometh from the Heart and Soul.
So in tune with the Soul of Magic was Hecate, she soon became a Sorceress, in her own right, anointed by the Sorceress of Etheria herself. Hecate’s dreams fulfilled.
Hecate gave her Master the strength to venture out into Etheria once more, the people surprising him with their warmth and awe.
Hecate now a grown woman, Dream Weaver found himself falling in Love with her, what once was Love for his young apprentice was now blossoming. Heartened was he that she returned his feelings.
Their bond was through one of Magic, not a traditional wedding as neither believed in the ceremony. One should not have to prove Love in such a fashion.
The Bonding of Dream Weaver and Hecate enlightened the Eternian people, drawing them back to the ways of Magic and the Force of Life.
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Enter Light Spinner ~ Child of the Light
A year later, a child was borne to the Magical couple. They named her Light Spinner, for when she was born, a spinning Matrix of Light emanated from the new born babe.
Both parents sensed she was a gifted child. It Heartened Dream Weaver that his daughter was so in tune with Magic. The Spirits were delighted with her and played with her all the time J Dream Weaver and Hecate, enlightened to see such beauty and Love.
But something was to happen that would change Dream Weaver, Hecate and Light Spinner’s lives forever. A gate to another dimension opened, a gate to the Doom Dimension … King Zarkon in his mighty Doom Ship wrenched Hecate and Light Spinner from Dream Weaver’s grasp, the gentle Sorceress using all her powers to protect her daughter. With Light Spinner safe, Dream Weaver used all the powers he could muster, concentrating it on the Doom ship, but Hecate was caught in the middle. Weaver realised that if he did not stop, his Beloved would be killed. In tears he had to release her, there was nothing he could do. Light Spinner, not quite up to her second year didn’t quite understand what was happening but somehow knew her mother wasn’t coming back. Her wails cut through Dream Weaver like a lightsabre.
Before his very eyes his Beloved Hecate began to change with powers of Doom … Her face became haggard, her beautiful fine hands, gnarled, and her fair skin becoming grey and harsh.
"Witch Hagar, you will come with me to take Planet Arus and destroy the Voltron Force!"
"Yes, Lord Zarkon."
"Hecate, No!" her bondmate cried in shock.
The one once known as Hecate spun around and blasted Dream Weaver, the evil making him sick.
Hagar turned back to her ‘Master,’ the life she left behind but a fleeting memory that would sometimes surface, in a dream or vision, but the Witch knowing nothing of Love. There are times when she dreams of what it would be like to be loved, but until Hagar can break the evil that binds her, she will not.
Dream Weaver’s Soul, shattered, Light Spinner the only being keeping him from falling apart. He held his tears back in fear of drowning out hers. Often he would make sure Spinner was safe and fast asleep, run into the woods and cry alone, the Spirits, pained to see him like this, tried to console him. The Wizard, grateful for their Love, but still pained that evil had triumphed over his good, kind Soul, taken his beautiful Hecate, corrupted her, destroyed her. Could she ever break the evil and return? Would she find her gentle Heart, her innocent Soul?
Dream Weaver struggled to cope with the loss of his Beloved, when a new threat came to Etheria - The Horde. Terrified they would take Light Spinner, now into her fifth year, the Sorcerer bequeathed her to a dear friend, the wise Wizard Nowryn. The young child wailed, frightened to leave her father and the home she knew, and didn’t quite understand her Father’s woe an fears or why she had to leave Deep inside she was hurt and angry and wondered how he could desert her …
Nowryn vowed to teach her and keep her safe, as Dream Weaver became more and more secluded from his world.
Deep Down, Light Spinner ached, missing being with her gentle, loving mother and father, wishing she cold use her powers to save her mother, reunite her with her father, restoring his faith and shattered Soul.
This goal became lost in time as, much to Nowryn’ dismay she became impatient.
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Enter Shadow Weaver ~ Dark Witch
On the eve of her nineteenth birthday, Light Spinner would change forever. The Horde had promised her powers beyond her imaginings … Power, glory, revenge, if she would help them in their conquest of Etheria and eventually Eternia. The young woman thought about it …She had become bitter toward her world, for not helping her father when the Doom Ships came, for not consoling his broken Heart. The truth was they did not know how. Etheria had been terrified of the Doom ships and even those with powers had not known how to stop them and it seemed to them they had only come for one reason … That being to rob Light Spinner of her Mother and Dream Weaver of his Beloved and his Soul. Light Spinner felt alienated amongst her people. Some even said she’d left her father when he needed her most. She hid her face with mesh so passers by would not see her tears or her anger. If only she could show them her pain, her father’s pain, but they would not listen. With the powers the Horde would give her, she would make them listen.
As the Crystal’s powers beamed into her she felt them surrounding her, entering her, empowering every cell in her body. It wasn’t until it was too late she realised how gnarled her beautiful body and Soul had become - but if that was what she had to do to make the people pay, then so be it. She was not to know that with this power, she would forget her cause, her name and all but forget the gentle man she knew as her father and the loving woman she knew as her mother. She would be filled with hatred for the people of Etheria and Eternia, turning her loyalty to the Horde. She now despised the Rebels with a vengeance. What had they done to help Etheria before the Horde came? The Horde were all powerful, and they deserved to rule. She was part of the Horde now – or so she thought, her Heart and Soul warped and bitter. She chose the name ‘Shadow Witch,’ but altered it to ‘Shadow Weaver.’ She knew not from where ‘Weaver’ had come or why she felt such a connection with the name.
Light Spinner’s Corruption into Darkness crushed Dream Weaver’s already fragile Heart and Soul. Tears came like rivers. There are those that have said his cries were heard as far away as the Kingdom of the Snows and beyond. The Gentle Wizard tried to end his existence with a noxious potion he created from poison Ivina, but the Spirits replaced it with Berry Nectar. They knew not what they cold do for him. They stayed with him, consoling him but there seemed nothing they could so to ease his aching Soul.
How, Dream Weaver wondered in desperation for answers, could evil have corrupted such beautiful, gentle beings? He wanted to help the Rebels fight the Horde, but his with his fragile Soul and Heart and ailing state of mind, he feared he would jeopardise their cause. His faith in the Light, in tatters, he could not stand the pain.
The ruins of his abode still stand deep within the Etherian Stone Mountains, and those who are fortunate enough to have the sight to see it will not see the beautiful place it one was, all they will see the sadness that ravaged and engulfed the gentle Dream Weaver’s Soul.
Not knowing what else to do, the Dream Weaver placed the remnants of his fragile Soul in the Spirits and those of the Elements. They Love and care for him, knowing if they do not, his Soul will die. He has tried to come to terms with his losses. He has concentrated his energies into restoring the Balance to Etheria and Eternia.
There are those who have said they have seen his face in the rivers, clouds, skies and in the trees. Some said they have seen it in the fires, in all the Elements. He has used his powers to save people from raging bushfires, floods, tsunami, earthquakes and viscous storms, as he believes only with faith and the Spirits can Etheria and Eternia be restored.
In his own way he assists the Rebels. But no one fore sure knows where he dwells, if anywhere and if his shattered Soul will ever become whole.
The gentle Wizard dreams of the day he can return his Beloved Hecate and Light Spinner into his arms, his Heart and Soul and welcome them with Love, making his Soul whole again, enlightening his Heart, and giving that Love and Light to his world.
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Shadow Weaver struggled out of the Crystal Cavern, back into the daylight, shielding her yellow eyes from the glare of the white snow. There she saw Frosta, barely alive, hypothermia well set in, the Empress of the Snows waiting for Death to come. She felt her body levitate and surmised it was Celesta, Hades’ Messenger, come to finally take her to the Etherian Underworld and mercifully end this agonising torment.
She barely felt a gentle hand upon her body.
"May you suffering end
May you regain your light
As is yours by eternal rite."
Frosta barely heard the raspy words as a white mist engulfed her body, the cold mercifully vanishing, the last shivers traversing her body. She cared not to go through that again as she sat on the bright white snow, feeling its powdery texture, the very ground giving her strength, restoring her powers and Life Force.
She saw Shadow Weaver and knew the Witch was the only one who could have broken the spell. The blue and white Empress composed herself and stood. "Did you find the Secret of the Dream Weaver?"
Shadow Weaver did not turn around. "Yes," she rasped.
A sudden wind blew back her cape, her hood blowing from her face as she turned to face Frosta, the Empress struggling to contain her horror at what this once beautiful woman had become.
Tears streaked Shadow Weaver’s haggard dark face. "Yes I did."
A wisp of wind and her hood was back in place, leaving Frosta, a solitary tear meandering down the Empress’ fair face, crystallising on the snow.
Shadow Weaver found herself coming to a patch of forest not far from the Kingdom of the Snows, where she knew not; she did not care. By the foot a large ancient tree, she collapsed and cried. She tried to stop, but could not. Part of herself cursed this weakness, but the other wept. The Witch sobbed so hard the trees wept with her. What had she become? Why had she not seen? …
Shadow Weaver knew not how long she wept only that it had been many hours and the sky had now darkened. She almost didn’t see a kind face in the trees, peering at her, hoping.
As the Witch gazed into the branches, she saw the gentle face and became Heartened. "…Father…"
"Come with me … and you shall be free." His gentle voice resonated in her Soul.
A large, gentle hand reached out to her. Afraid at first, the evil in her screaming weakness, but for once she listened to her Heart and found the emptiness filling with Love as the hand clasped hers.
No longer did she want to be the evil Shadow Weaver, Speller of Doom for the Rebels, an instrument for the Horde … Hordak’s punching bag - Her destiny was her own.
Though so much had changed, she did not feel comfortable with becoming Light Spinner again.
"You are right, My Daughter, much has changed. Your mother has started to free herself as well. There will be a day when she will return to us."
The Witch smiled, a smile hidden beneath her hood.
A long silence followed.
"I am so sorry … I …"
The Dream Weaver’s Spirit smiled warmly. "Do not be, My Child. You have learned … You came to the Oracle of History to use my Secret to destroy, yet it brings you life … And it is I who am sorry, for not protecting you and my darling Hecate. I was not strong enough … I…" Tears escaped the Gentle Spirit. The Witch instinctively embraced her father. His Heart warmed, the older Wizard returned the gesture, with a gentleness Shadow Weaver had long forgotten. Enlightened once more, his Heart filling with the joy he had craved for so many years, restoring his faith in Love and the Light, a tear escaping, making its way down his gentle cheek. He took back her hood and touched her face, feeling the bitter evil vanishing, restoring the kindness that had been robbed from her Soul so many years ago.
"Come, Light Weaver, there is much to do if Etheria an Eternia are to be saved from the Darkness."
A tear of Joy escaping, Light Weaver being filled with Love and Light, as she joined her Father among the Elements.
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