Adara was home again, cuddled into her bed with the sheets tucked against her chin. Dr. Allard finished another round of the genetic splicing, which grafted
Darth Prazutis
‘ DNA into Adara’s genome.
Split apart.
Torn at the edges, condemned to days of frigidity and shaken bones as her body reknit. Destruction was the precursor to all creative acts. Only through the immolation of antiquated or ragged structures could a new foundation, a mighty strength be wrought. It was the penalty and praise of the Dark that the child withstood such drastic measures at all.
Growth spurts recovered the dynasty of her Epicanthix heritage. A shift in DNA gave Adara the ability to feed with ease and minimal effort. There was a hand on her brow, a thumb wiped mahogany hair away from her olive skin... olive...
... not pale as flimsiplast anymore.
Yasha’s child possessed a recessive beauty behind the pallid weakness of her previously fallen state.
Raya swept the hair off her face. A companion during the restoration of Adara’s genome to its’ proper place. Yasha’s children were always meant to be Zambrano-born, regardless of the former Mand’alor’s loves. It was predestined. An absolute revenge against the youth, who too often bit at the hand which fed her Mandalorians their Sith-ground bread. Against the youth who allowed Ancius to perish the day she took her red bathed throne.
All Raya saw was a friend and cousin gained. A girl near her age she could share every secret, every hope and prayer. Tease each other about all sorts of things.
And when Yasha came to Bastion unannounced, Raya and Adara hid in Raya’s bedroom, giggled about the coup, the absolute coup that Adara’d been there all along. She had a living father, who loved her. Who kept and taught her to use her strengths instead of feel the embarrassment of the Force on Manda’yaim.
Laid upon the mountain, Adara’s eyes opened to the harsh light, which burned like temporary blindness. Her eyes shut again, senses in the Force poured through instead.
Brigh jumped down the mountainside, Tabitha grew nearer. Familiar auras, one powered the other astoundingly and wonderfully normal.
A single bacta shot pinged off the snow, and landed beside Raya, the gift of bad luck from
Shoden Moz
. Brigh came closer, close enough for Adara to reach out and feel the energy off her darling cousin.
Adara rolled onto her elbows and knees. Pops and cracks echoed up her spine, which bent back into place as she pushed up. Stumbled to her feet with a non-human snarl. Lips pulled back, the elongated canines of Epicanthix females punctuated by the red in Adara’s mouth.
Thought returned to the monstrous girl in ached pulses.
She was Adara Zambrano, daughter of House Fitz-Kierke and Clan Raxis. She would not sully this flimsy place with the agony of defeat against meat with wings. Inside a secret pocket built into her dress, Adara set her one un-gnarled hand.
A cylinder of dark matte metal.
Left arm hanging ill in its’ socket, right hand shaking as it clutched the hilt of her secret lightsaber, Adara tottered and glared at Brigh.
“I need to...” Adara wheezed, fought a wracking cough which would surely send her back to the ground. “... borrow you.... Brigh.”
A shrieking whistle stole the air above them, one of the smaller dragons swooped down to attack Stabitha as she rappelled toward Raya. Adara craned her head upward. She pounced on shaken legs, aided by the Force Adara vaulted into the air. As the dragon swooped for Stabitha, Adara raised her lightsaber.
Ignited a blood red blade.
Cut the small dragon in twain with a single downward diagonal strike. Both pieces of the juvenile beast landed with steaming thunks on the ground a second before gravity pulled Adara down, lightsaber blade still radiating its’ crimson light as the Infernal’s daughter landed in a crouch on Vanquo’s snow.
The dragon-flesh turned to purple ash, curled into Adara’s injured arm. Fingers began to snap in place, with another tottering scream from Vena’s arch-duchess.
Fred Gred
Ellie Omera
Stardust Solus Skirae
Tabitha Solus