Identity

The rebel camp is quiet. Only the smallest sliver of light seeps through the crack in the tent’s opening, shining directly on the broken pieces of her sword.

Adora sighs. All the pieces are there, perfectly aligned, but broken all the same. She doesn’t regret breaking the sword--all of Etheria was in danger, after all--but she can’t help but wish there was another way.

Several hours earlier

“Oh Mara, there you are!”

Adora looks up, startled. Madame Razz is standing at the edge of the camp, halfway through the illusion dome that keeps them safe from the Horde.

“Wh- Madame Razz? What are you doing here?” Adora rushes over and tries to pull her inside the dome, but the old woman is stronger than she looks.

“Mara dearie, can’t you ever make time for a poor old woman?” Madame Razz says. “Now come! I’ve got something to show you.”

Adora reluctantly follows Razz into the woods, constantly looking over her shoulder for Horde drones or soldiers. Surprisingly, none appear.

“Razz…” Adora says after a minute of walking. “Do you think I did the right thing?”

“Well I do appreciate having some company, so I’d say you’re doing just fine,” Madame Razz says.

“No, I mean… about the sword,” Adora says. “Without it, I can’t be She-ra, and without She-ra the rebellion doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Oh Mara, what did I tell you?” Razz shakes her head, tapping her broom against the ground. “Come now, we’re almost there.”

Adora follows Madame Razz into a magical grove; the deepest part of the Whispering Woods.

“I don’t understand, I’ve been here before,” Adora says.

“Of course you have! Don’t you remember what I told you, Mara?”

Adora sits down against a tree. “I’m not Mara, Razz. I’m not even She-ra.”

“Oh, silly girl,” Razz sighs. “Do you really think you needed a sword to be She-ra?”

“Huh?”

“She-ra is you!” Madame Razz points aggressively at Adora. “You are She-ra! You never needed that silly sword. She-ra is a part of you. You just have to let her out.”

“Let her out…?” Adora stands up taking a step back. “Well how am I supposed to do that? I clearly don’t know how to do anything! How do I even know you’re right? You can’t even remember my name!”

Adora stands there, glaring down at Madame Razz, who isn’t even shocked or angered; she only looks up at Adora with pity.

“Adora,” Madame Razz says slowly. “When Mara came here with me, she was confused too. She was so frightened, poor thing. But when she healed this grove and turned it into the magical place it is today… she had the same look in her eyes as when I first met you.”

“When you first met me?” Adora says.

“Oh yes, don’t you remember? You were scared then too, so confused. You didn’t understand yet, but you learned. And when you finally figured it out, you were so happy! It’s a shame seeing you so sad now.”

“The Horde is days away from conquering Etheria for good. I can’t smile now,” Adora says.

“You are She-ra,” Razz repeats. “Don’t forget that. Have I ever steered you wrong?”

Adora picks up the hilt of the sword, a jagged piece of the blade still attached. It reflects the sunlight, nearly blinding her, but she looks anyway. She closes her eyes, then sets it down again.

Adora stands up. She closes the tent flap, encasing her in darkness. She raises her hand, open, above her head; reaching for something she can’t see.

“For the honor of Grayskull,” she says softly. She cautiously looks up. Nothing.

“For the honor of Grayskull!” She says, a little louder. Still nothing.

Adora sits down on her bed, slumped forward in defeat.

Razz was wrong. I’m not She-ra… not without the sword.

She’s a little kid in the Fright Zone, protecting Catra from Shadow Weaver, not always succeeding.

She’s in the Whispering Woods, finally learning how much the Horde has kept from her.

She’s in Thaymore, watching as Catra betrays her.

She’s in Salineas, failing to repair the Sea Gate in time.

She’s leaving the Fright Zone, leaving Entrapta behind.

She’s with Light Hope, being told that being She-ra is her destiny.

She’s in the false world made by the Portal, abandoning Catra for the second time.

She’s watching Angella sacrifice herself to save the world.

She’s stuck on Beast Island, unable to transform when she’s needed.

She’s useless.

A tear runs down Adora’s cheek and falls off her chin, landing on her hand. She wipes it away, angrily rubbing at her eyes. She stands up, looking for something to throw (or a better way to take out her frustration) when she hears something outside.

It’s Bow. He’s too far away for her to hear what he’s saying, but his voice is excited and happy; exactly the Bow Adora knows. She smiles. He always does manage to keep smiling, no matter what.

She’s arriving in Bright Moon with Bow and Glimmer by her side, nervous but ready to face whatever comes.

She’s meeting Madame Razz, and learning about She-ra.

She’s finally learning to transform at will.

She’s fighting to defend Bright Moon.

She’s meeting the other Princesses.

She’s going on a mission to rescue Glimmer.

She’s fighting,

She’s winning,

She’s laughing and running and enjoying her victory.

She’s looking forward to the future,

She’s smiling with her friends by her side,

She’s saving the world,

She’s important.

She matters.

Adora takes a deep breath, then lets it out. Her hands slowly unclench as she forces herself to relax. She takes a step forward, placing herself in the center of the tent. She glances down at the broken sword, then looks away and closes her eyes.

She isn’t She-ra.

She-ra is her.

“For the honor…” she reaches out, eyes squeezed shut, her hand closing on something just barely tangible, “Of Grayskull!”

And there it is; that familiar feeling, only it’s not the same at all. She’s glowing, she’s taller, stronger, she’s She-ra. But this time, she isn’t controlled by the First Ones’ tech. She isn’t a weapon for other people to use. She is She-ra, but she’s still Adora.

The whole tent is lit by her glow. She smiles, looking at her reflection in the new sword in her hand. She’s different, but that’s good. She looks more like herself. She feels more like herself, too. Maybe Madame Razz was right after all. She’s been She-ra all along.

She-ra steps out of the tent and walks through the camp. Looks of awe and whispers follow her, but she doesn’t have time for that. She walks into the strategy tent, where everyone that matters is already present; save Bow, who rushes in after her, staring up at her in awe.

“Hey guys,” she says, smirking. “Are we making a plan to find Glimmer or not?”