[When you touch the cartridge, you fade into a memory, living it as if it were your own.

Catra is leaning up against a wall in the sorceress’s inner sanctem, frowning and defensive. The sorceress leans over a cauldron glowing eerily with golden light. She drags her fingernails over the surface, causing swirls and images to form.

“For the last time, where is Adora?” she demands.

“For the last time, I don’t know! What, do you think I keep her on a leash?” Catra retorts.

“I know you’re lying. You two are close, she would never depart without telling you,” Shadow Weaver replies, narrowing her eyes, and Catra hunches up her shoulders and glances aside.

“Then I guess she let us both down, huh.”

“Have it your way. I already know where she is. We’ve been tracking her.”

Surprised at this, Catra finally approaches, planting a hand on her hip and demanding, “Uh, then why did you ask me?”

“Because you are going to bring her back,” the witch replies, derisive.

“I don’t think so,” Catra snaps, turning away — she doesn’t even make it a step before Shadow Weaver is using her magic, paralyzing Catra’s movements with a crackling red power as she makes small, gasping sounds of distress. Shadow Weaver creeps over, laying her hands on Catra’s shoulders she she stands, frozen, ears flat and fear plainly written on her face.

Shadow Weaver leans in close and says, “Your insolence will not protect her. You will do as I ask.”

Catra, trembling a little, answers, “Oh yeah? Or what?”

Shadow Weaver grips her by the chin and forces her heads around to look at her and calmly replies, “Or you’ll suffer the consequences in her place.”

This woman frightens you, and you fully believe she'll harm you.]