I...am the magic? The sword is me; there is no more physical sword because it shattered. Somehow though, I can still manifest it. I don't know a ton about how it literally works, and I was lied to about so much. I was pulled through a portal onto Etheria when I was an infant, I don't even know where my actual home is. Who my parents are.

[ Which is to say that she has no idea what was actually a lie and what was truth when Light Hope's programming was overridden to tell Adora what she wanted to hear. But it's easier to show River, and Adora closes her eyes, concentrating. The sword appears in a shimmer of faint pastels, and she lays it across the table, pointing at the opal in the center of the hilt. ]

This is my runestone. Magic is rare on Etheria, and there are only a few of us who can innately use it because we draw our power from our stones. But I'm a little different from the others. I'm a myth, a legend prophesized a thousand years ago to save all of Etheria: She-Ra.

[ All of this she says with a certain edge to her voice and blankness to her face. She was created, controlled, forced to comply. Adora isn't bragging, here. She died not that long ago. This is simply to help River understand there's a very limited amount of knowledge. ]

Only I can control the sword, no one else. Not even if they try.