Urdnot Bakara walked through the women's camp, her clawed hands gently touching the heads of the children as they passed her, hands that had clawed through so much dirt for this, for the lives of those around her, for the survival of her people. She smiled, the ridges of her face creasing as she listened to the mothers, the women she'd suffered so much for, talking quietly. Her mind went back, just for a second, to that dark time. So much had happened, so many tortures, trials, failures and pain, yet, it had not broken her, it had only served to make her stronger, to give her the strength to drag her race from the ashes and sand.

Memories of the darkness filled her mind and her heart slowed to a beat she remembered well. The sound of digging, the weight of the earth surrounded her. The scent of the dirt filled her nose, threatening to choke her. In the darkness, she had found the light; in the shadows, she had found strength, but it was rising from the pitch-black night, into the sun that had given her purpose.

Urdont Bakara remembered the darkness. She stood, watching the children she'd fought for scream and run, playing games and laughing, each shriek filling her with joy. The darkness of her past had fallen behind her, but her story would live on through the ages, in her memories, and of those who would remember her sacrifice for her race.


Day One In The Darkness.

Darkness and gloom surrounded her, filling her senses with nothing. Her eyes blinked uselessly, trying to pierce the shadows. Her heart pounded, beat after beat marking the time. How many in a week? She didn't know, but the one thing that for her, proved to be inescapable, was the lack of food, water and supplies. One weeks worth, before her heart would stop and she would fail.

Water dripping from the stalactites in time with her heartbeat, had her eyes opening. It didn't make much difference, considering the oppressive gloom around her. She shivered, wrapped in nothing but a ceremonial robe, too thin to offer much protection from the cold and damp. Dig. She knew she needed to keep moving, to find her way out to the sun.

She crawled, guessing the direction she needed, trying to find some instinct within herself to show her the way. A wall met her questing fingers, slimy and damp, cold to the touch. She dug her claws in, scratching away at the darkness, chipping away at the cold. Her heartbeat sounded over the noise of the rocks shifting, the only two sounds she'd known for some time.

Hunger woke her from the haze of digging, her stomach cramping. She stopped her mindless shifting of rock, crawling back through the small tunnel she'd created. Make it last, don't eat too much, she coached herself, pulling the burlap sack toward her. She wanted to sleep. Her back ached, her arms trembled and her skin itched. Dirt slid between her plates, grinding on the sensitive skin beneath, but she ignored it, pushing aside the discomfort.

The initiate opened the sack, using touch alone to fumble with the ties. Inside, she found what felt to be dried meat, bread and some kind of nutrient paste. Taking the nutrient paste, she opened the tube, sliding the gelatinous liquid onto her tongue. It tasted like nothing, but it didn't matter, it served its purpose. Inside the pack, in a sealed container, water sloshed, making her thirsty. She held it at bay though, waiting until she'd finished her rations, slowly eating one strip of meat, and one bite of bread.

Once her stomach felt slightly fuller, no longer a growling cavern, she sipped her water, the cooling liquid washing the ash and dirt from her mouth. She sat back, crossing her legs under her robe. She shivered a little, scared of the darkness around her.

So many have died here, so many lost to the darkness ... I will not be one of the lost, I will find the light. I will become one of the nameless, the faceless, and I will help guide my broken people to more than they are now. No longer will we suffer, the scourge of the galaxy, barely born, hardly surviving, used to fight and die for others. My people deserve more, and I will give it to them.

The initiate lay down in the dirt, the sack became her pillow, and her robes her blankets. She closed her eyes, exhaustion pulling her into a restless sleep. Dreams, hopes and future wishes whispered through her mind, childrens faces, her mothers face, the voice of her father. She couldn't remember him, just another male, put into the breeding program as soon as he came of age. He'd passed the rite, bred with her mother, before being shipped back to the clans, away from the women's camp after she'd been born. She drifted off, deeper into sleep, hearing the faint memory of his lullaby, sang as he held her for the first and last time.

Day Two In The Darkness.

The initiate woke, her body groaning, pain rippling along her back as she sat up. She cursed, a low rumble of sound echoing through the cave, reminding her where she was. Her hand fumbled through the dark, seeking her water. The night had been long, broken by sounds bouncing off the dank walls, scaring the young krogan, waking her from her comforting dreams. Sipping the water, she took several calming breaths, before rolling to her knees, her hump scraping the roof of the cave.

The night had taken its toll on her, but she was krogan, her body would bow to her, her soul would carry her, and bring her into the light. She began her task, finding her way to the hole she'd started the before sleeping. She assumed a new day had come to pass, but in the darkness, time didn't matter, even as it pressed on her, suffocated her like the rocks that had become her tomb. One week. She had no way of knowing, no way of following time in the cave, only the constant movements of her hands and the ever present beating of her heart signalled its passing. Her heart kept her sane, her hopes kept the darkness at bay, her determination and sheer will ensured her strength to dig.

She broke, hours later, for food and water, once again rationing herself, hoping to make her food last while taking enough to keep her body alive. Taste, smell, and touch meant nothing to her in this place, only the beating of her heart. She'd counted it, as she dragged dirt from her path, endlessly shovelling it to the side, inch after inch, beat after beat. She hummed sometimes, something to break the silence of the cave. Songs of her people left her lips, her voice rising and falling with each note. Some of the songs mournful, some full of hope, each full of history. From the Rachni wars, to the Genophage, she sang, spanning the history of the krogan; their suffering as well as the strength that the suffering had wrought.

That strength filled her now, ingrained into the very fiber of her being, giving her the burning need to survive, to keep digging, to push through each new level of pain. Her body became her tool, tunneling her way to freedom. The initiate would have her freedom, she would leave this cave, broken and remade by her task, her mission, her initiation into a higher cause. She thought, while she lifted mounds of dirt aside, about what she would become, her role in society. She would become a leader, a guide to her people. She smiled, her ridges creasing.

So many will look to me, and I will show them, that war is not all. A fighting race does not always need to fight with weapons, sometimes words can do more damage than a bullet. My people will be known, one day, as a wise people, who learn from their mistakes, who grow and find their place in the galaxy.

She stopped digging after uncountable hours, sipping water and taking her second lot of rations. Hunger gnawed at her, but the initiate rose above it, drawing on her own strength, as well as the strength of her hope. It nourished her, filled her empty stomach and exhausted muscles, taking away the ache that sent her muscles trembling. She sat, her back to the cold walls, her hands in her lap as she meditated, letting her thoughts go, leaving her with only one: Survive.


Day Three In The Darkness.

I'm going the wrong way, she thought, some instinct warning her after hours of digging. Something pulled her in the other direction, some indisputable call in her chest. She let out a breath, slumping to the floor on her hands and knees. I'm going the wrong way. She trembled, knowing it to be true, knowing all her work had been for nothing. I've got to turn back ...

She turned, scrambling from her tunnel, dragging her pack with her, making sure it wasn't lost in the dark. She traced the claw marks in the dirt, following them to the slightly larger area she'd been put in. Days of digging, for nothing, but the initiate wouldn't let it stop her, not now. The krogan race had been challenged, just as she was being challenged now, and like them, she would rise above it and become what she had been destined to become. For even then, in the darkness, surrounded by the walls of her torment, she would not bow down to her own failure.

Low snarls filled the cave, the sound of claws against rock and grit accompanying her furious digging. Her heart pounded, music to her ears as she threw herself into the task, her claws breaking and bleeding. She didn't care, she didn't stop, even when her body began to scream for her to breathe, to eat, to sleep. Sleep meant nothing to her now, she wouldn't rest, wouldn't slow. Until the light met her skin again, the initiate would not stop.

Hours passed, seconds spanning into minutes, minutes spanning into hours, hours spanning into days. The fierce krogan female didn't stop, didn't slow. She just kept digging.


Day Four In The Darkness.

She sagged. I don't have enough food to survive ... I'm going to die here.

Her eyes closed, and even the darkness meant nothing She let her misery take her, giving in to the pain of her limbs, her bleeding claws, her stuttering heartbeat. She realized, in that hopelessness, that she was more than a body, more than a heart beating for survival. Her body was a shell, but in her mind, she was a flame, burning in the darkness. No matter what her body suffered, her flame would always burn.

For what seemed like years, but could only have been hours, the initiate came to a decision.

I don't want to die. My people need me. I won't die. I am krogan, not some pyjack, cowering in the dirt. I won't die here!

She'd already been there for four days. Four days of endlessly digging, using only her hands and claws, rock after rock, grain after grain. Four days of exhaustion and darkness. Hopelessness rippled through her as she knelt in the dirt of the tunnel she'd been working so hard on. Her fingers trailed in the filth and her eyes closed.

My race is my strength. The blood in my veins is my rage. The heart in my chest is my drum, and it will never stop sounding.

Her fingers met something in the dirt. She looked down, her eyes drawn to the first light she'd seen in what felt like a millenium. A crystal, three inches long and two inches wide, gleamed in the darkness. A glow seemed to emanate from the stone, a steady pulse that matched the beat of her heart.

She lifted it from the filth, wiping the smears away until it gleamed in her hand. Hope. She held hope in her palm. It seeped from the stone, warming her cold bones, easing her tight chest, and building the embers of her determination into a furious blaze.

"I hold hope in my hand," she whispered to herself, the first words she'd spoken in days. Her voice sounded like ash, burnt and dry, like broken trees in a storm.

The initiate stared at the stone, sitting back to eat the remains of her food. The bread had gone stale, the meat dryer than it should be, and only a little water sloshed in the bottle, but the krogan didn't care. Hope fed her weary body, her heartbeat sustained her exhausted mind, and her determination raged anew. Once her paltry meal ended, she crawled back into her second tunnel. She slipped the crystal into her robes, wrapping it in a torn strip, keeping it close to her heart. Blood dripped from her claws, her teeth grinding with each pass of her hands. Piles of filth, rock and limestone falling to her.

In the darkest hour, there is always a way out.


Day Five In The Darkness.

Hunger cramped her stomach, but the initiate smiled. Her body, nothing but a shell for the light inside her, would bow to her will. She chanted, wordless songs and endless rhythm, paced to the sound of her digging. The tunnel-either by conscious decision, or some call of instinct-had started to curve upwards, a slow ascent, curving in a gentle incline. She knew then, feeling the gradient of the curve, that she had nearly made it out, nearly reached the sun.

She missed the sun, her sun, the sun that warmed her planet. She could almost feel the dry heat on her scales, heating her blood, soothing her body. The sky, burnt by her ancestor's mistakes, as vast as all the sorrows of her people, called her: its bitter orange haze, empty of clouds, devoid of life. To her-no matter what other races thought of her home-the sky represented all of the lessons to be learned from their history. They only survived because the turians and salarians had saved them, because they couldn't save themselves. No longer would this continue, the initiate knew, deep in her heart, that the krogan race needed to grow, to become more; because if they didn't ... then all hope for the future would be lost.

The genophage ... Just the name of the curse on her people brought a snarl to her lip. Her people, male and female alike, had been cursed to impotence. Wombs made barren by the meddling of the salarians. Males, raging against a fate they couldn't fight, women weeping for the dying children, for the mothers who died, childless and broken, with no hope for the future. I can't bear to see the watch of my people any longer. Something needs to be done, before it's too late. It is my task, my fate, to heal the scars of time.

Her heart beat, pulse after pulse. The Genophage will no longer be our torment. My people will find a cure, we will grow, we will have our children once more. We will not make the mistakes of the past, we will use our knowledge, our history and we will live. Her hearts beat, a vow in every one, a promise, to find a way to cure the scars on the psyche of her people.


Day Six In The Darkness.

She could almost smell the air of her home. No longer did stale oxygen, cloying dirt, and potent rot cling to her lungs with each breath. Her hands moved on auto-pilot, shovelling away the grime. After days of endless digging, she could sense her freedom, feel her escape and her heart pounded. The crystal against her breast warmed, almost as if it too, begged for the sun. Too long had they both been in the darkness, now the time had come for her to be free.

The initiate smiled, grim and determined. Even in the darkest hour, there is always a way out. She broke through a thick layer of earth. How those words have tormented me. Where, in this darkness, is the way out. Now I realize ... Now I know, that the way out must be made by myself. I must make my own way, and I must bring my people with me. Another claw broke, another layer breached, another obstacle fell to her.

By tooth and claw, word not war, I must bring my people into the light. As a shaman, I will have the wisdom earned through this task. I have more to learn, from the women who have suffered alongside me, and our knowledge, wisdom and courage will become the cornerstone to a broken race. From that block, from our suffering, we will build, and our race will be more than they ever were before.

She didn't sleep, couldn't eat, could hardly breathe. All the initiate could do, was dig.


Day Seven In The Darkness.

Air. She could smell air, seeping through the dirt. Freedom, closer and closer it came, each scratch of her claws bringing it within touching distance. Her heart raced, no longer a steady beat, but a thundering, a drumming that pushed her onwards, driving her towards the sun. The initiate refused to allow the tears in her blind eyes to fall, she refused the weakness, knowing she had earned her freedom, and would emerge stronger than she had entered.

Sunlight began to pierce the darkness, spearing into eyes that have known nothing but black. She blinked, her eyes adjusting, showing her the filth in which she had dragged herself through. Her hands, in front of her face, covered in it, bathed in black and crimson. Blood, dirt and sweat colored the once white robes, evidence of her struggle. Hands gripped hers, gentle, calming and warm, pulling her from the cave.

"Welcome, my sister."

Voices reached her ears, all saying the same thing. Acceptance, love and energy filled her. Hands and arms enveloped her, bodies all pressing into hers, heedless of the dirt that coated every inch of her skin. The crystal pressed into her chest, reminding her of the dark, and she knew then, that she would carry it always, as a reminder of where she had come from and the paths she would walk. Every hardship faced would be embedded into the stone, becoming the symbol of her, a constant talisman of who she was.

"I have found my place," she whispered, returning the embraces. Her arms ached, and her body felt as if it had been drained of every fiber of energy, but she didn't care. "I have risen from the dirt, cleaner than I entered."

"Welcome, sister. You are now, and always will be one of the sisterhood. A shaman of the krogan, a giver of wisdom, a pillar of strength."

No longer an initiate, the krogan shaman stood tall, pride outlining her form, bathing her in a glow stronger than the sun itself. Hands guided her, pulling her towards a stone building, a temple she'd never seen before. Huge blocks of caramel colored stone formed the structure, carved and stunning.

On the walls, colossal figures of krogan women stood, their robes painted in colours she'd never imagined in the barren wasteland of her planet. Reds, blues, oranges, greens even the black tones shimmered under the sun. In the arms of each woman, lay a child, wrapped in jewel covered blankets. Each jewel shimmered, showing how precious the children were to the entire race.

"For our children, we have given much, and we ask you now, sister, if you are prepared to sacrifice more."

She tore her gaze from the temple, meeting the eyes of each woman forming a circle around her. Her voice rose, clear and strong. "I will give all that I am, all that I ever will be for my people." Her vow rang across the sands, echoing through the ruins, bouncing from rock to rock, grain to grain, sealing her fate, her purpose, her life.

Her name, once known, would be wiped from record, and she would become a sister, a shaman, a mother to a race that needed rebuilding. "For my people, I will sacrifice all."

The women converged, carrying her into the temple, all silent but for the shuffling of their robes on the stone. They stripped her, leaving her with nothing but the crystal which she lay on one of the alters. Naked, she stood proudly as they washed the grime from her skin, care in every drop of precious water used. Her wounds, already nearly healed, bathed and bound. A heavily scented oil was massaged into her scales, bringing them up to a soft, pearly shine.

"Will you now cast aside all claim to your former life, possessions, home, and don the robes of the sisterhood?"

The krogan took one last breath, her resolve as hard as the marble she stood on. "I will."

Heavy bolts of blue fabric covered her nakedness, each panel embroidered with gold patterns. A headdress lay over her hump, forming a mask around her face. Only her eyes were visible through the adornments. Chains, six in total, hung from the mask, obscuring her vision for a moment, before she became accustomed. The entire ensemble felt alien to her, but she knew, in time, it would become essential to her very being. Her robe would become her very identity.

"Take this, my sister. Keep it with you always, a symbol of all you have been through. Let it soothe you in the times to come, for many pains will soon be upon us all."

Her crystal, pressed into her hand by one of her sisters, warmed in her palm, and the krogan smiled behind her mask, slipping it into the robes. It would never leave her, no matter what she faced, no matter what pain she suffered, or what sacrifice she had to make.

"I am ready."

"Then come sister. We must cross the sands together. Hope lies upon the horizon, and we must follow it."