Chapter Text
It’s been said that the world shifts at midnight. During this hour, Ethereia’s more magically inclined would insist that certain spells weakened, their dreams became prophetic, and even a lucky few could contact wandering spirits. This superstition was as ancient as the world, itself, perhaps older, but the lab partners never gave it much thought. There was no tangible data to support a cyclical waxing and waning of a mystical veil or its ties to spell casting. Not until their most recent project.
Initially, Hordak dismissed the results as unremarkable, merely an estimation of the best time to activate the portal and how long it would stay open. Entrapta, however, made note of the result as a “fascinating coincidence” and insisted they try again. It was important to go back and check their work after all. Every calculation, every time, no matter the variables, the result was the same. The portal could remain open for a maximum of thirty-six seconds only if activated at midnight.
“It has to be the First One's Tech,” Entrapta theorized. “If the First Ones mastered the ability to place magic within these crystals then it makes sense that they would respond to temporal fluctuations.”
“That’s all assuming the old superstitions are true.” Hordak countered her hypothesis less as an actual argument and more as an encouragement. Magic was always a topic he avoided. Lord Prime despised it, calling it a ‘craft of shadows meant to warp one's senses and alter truths.’ But he had to admit that he wanted to see where Entrapta’s train of thought was going. Besides, if studying this aspect of magic opened the portal sooner, surely any sins committed would be forgiven.
“True,” Entrapta muttered, sitting back on her hair to think. “Mystacor never let anyone outside their schools study the phenomenon closely enough to prove it exists. But that also means it hasn’t been disproven either!” Her pitch increased with her excitement. “And what kind of scientists would we be if we didn’t explore? Imagine the data!” Entrapta rushed to her computer to open a new file.
Hordak hummed his agreement. Though he didn’t share Entrapta’s passion for learning for knowledge’s sake (in fact he was certain no being alive could match her enthusiasm) the ability to predict fluctuations in magic did have potential where battle strategy was concerned. It would mean delaying the portal project. But Hordak was beginning to wonder if that was such a bad thing. This avenue of study might help him conquer Etheria with a newfound efficiency, and the idea of prolonging his time with Entrapta to delve into it pleased him more than it should have.
“We should start with you.” Entrapta continued tapping away at the keyboard. “Your armor is powered by First One’s tech so it stands to reason it’ll be subject to possible fluctuations as well.” She stopped typing and bounded back to Hordak’s side, examining the crystal she gave him only days ago. She ran her finger over the glassy surface. “Have you noticed any changes?”
“Nothing I thought noteworthy.” Hordak gently took her hand in his, lowering it but not letting go. They’d enjoyed a degree of comfortable unspoken affection in the days since their first test of the portal and he was fond of the way her hand fit within his. “That is to say your efforts have improved my quality of life vastly. Any changes in my energy levels are still an improvement to my previous existence. I have no complaints.”
Entrapta smiled and Hordak pretended not to notice the sudden color in her cheeks. She squeezed his hand a little before letting go. “Then we’ll just have to keep a closer eye on it.” Keeping a log wouldn’t be a problem. They’d both been working in the lab late enough to observe any changes that midnight might bring. “We’ll need a clock.” She stepped back to her computer. “Preferably one that chimes. And timers too.”
In a little under a week they had gathered enough data to add weight to Etheria’s claims of midnight magic. Entrapta had an old clock brought to her lab room from her castle in Dryl. It was her grandmother’s, constant and with a pleasant chime that caught her attention without being overly jarring. She and Hordak had synced their timers to it for when they worked in the sanctum. As soon as they began it was obvious that midnight was not the only significant hour on this planet. As dusk and dawn approached Hordak’s crystal glowed just a hair brighter and as the clock struck six his arm shorted out due to a brief circuit overload. This was a simple fix and Entrapta found a way to route the wires so that Hordak would not suffer as the First One’s crystal went through its apparent routines. The changes at noon and midnight were less irritating but just as conclusive. When the clock struck twelve the crystal flickered, just once and so quickly one might mistake it for a trick of the light. Hordak felt no apparent effects during this time but Entrapta remained concerned.
“It makes sense from a certain perspective.” Entrapta poured over the entries in her data pad from the armrest of Hordak’s throne while he read over her shoulder. “That they would occur in a multiple of three. I mean so much of our world is already subject to that phenomenon. The number of petals on flowers, three primary colors, even the three parts of an atom.”
“If that’s the case, shouldn’t there be other anomalies?” Hordak amicably challenged her assumption while absentmindedly curling a lock of lilac hair around his finger. “We’ve only managed to discover two fluctuations. By your logic there should be at least one more at the hours of nine or three.”
“Maybe there are.” Entrapta insisted. “And they’re too minor for us to notice. Would you be open to me installing an energy monitor in your armor?”
Hordak was about to express his apprehension when a clatter from the sanctum drew their attention. Upon their arrival, it didn’t take long to figure out the cause. Imp and Emily once again had gotten too rambunctious in one of their games and caused a shelf to fall. Wrenches, hexdrivers, and screws of all sizes, once neatly arranged, now littered the floor. A guilty Imp watched from the rafters where he was trying to hide while Emily slid about trying to pick their way out of the mess, inadvertently making it worse. Hordak growled up at his mischievous little creation, trying to find the words for a proper scolding. But before he could utter a word, Imp chirped pitifully and leaped down into Entrapta’s arms.
“Aw.” She cooed. “It’s alright, little guy. Accidents happen.”
“You spoil him too much.” Hordak sighed, noticing the sly grin on Imp’s face. The little creature clearly had Entrapta wrapped around his tiny claw. He’d get away with murder if she had any say in it.
Entrapta waved a lock of hair dismissing his concerns. “Nonsense, I don’t give him anything he doesn’t deserve.” The plush animals and extra ration bar wrappers that littered Imp’s bed begged to differ but Hordak said nothing. It was a battle he’d be certain to lose. “Anyway he just gave me a good excuse.”
“Excuse?”
“Those cadets, Lonnie, Rogelio, and Kyle like to meet weekly and talk. They said I could join them but going without Scorpia and Catra feels wrong.” Entrapta released her hold on Imp and bent down to start picking up the clutter. “Could you tell them I can’t make it. I need to sort this mess out.” The little creature flicked his tail in understanding and promptly scurried away with Emily.
Hordak nodded, not knowing what to say. The two force captains he sent on that ‘fool’s errand’ remained an undiscussed topic. Neither he nor Entrapta had heard a scrap of news from the Crimson Waste since Catra was sent there. Entrapta tried to hide her worry for her friends but Hordak could tell she missed them and wished for them to come back safely. Unfortunately, wishes come true. Not free.
That evening, Catra returned from the Crimson Waste too successful, bringing with her everything they once desired. But the price was too great. The portal couldn’t be opened. Entrapta tried to warn them but Catra was relentless. She never saw the stun baton coming, never thought her friend would turn on her so violently. And as Entrapta lost consciousness, the last sound she heard was a clock striking twelve.