A/N

This started out as a oneshot, but it became so long, it became a multi-chapter. Long enough that...okay, the oneshot was around 10,000 words, the full version of this story ended up at around 80,000. What inspired the original oneshot is something I can't really get into without spoilers at this point, but you might be able to pick up on some of the hints.

On that note, I should address any possible contention as to the grouping of this story in the Supergirl TV series category. I'll admit that the simple answer is that placing the story here will give it more exposure than if I placed it in the Supergirl comic category. However, there's a reason why this is grouped here that goes beyond hits, but again, if I've done my job right, you should be able to piece it together. By extension, I haven't labelled this story as an "Elseworlds" entry, though there's plenty of Elseworlds elements.

Third point, I'll come out and say it, this is probably been one of the hardest multi-chapters I've ever written - really out of my ballpark here, and it involved going through a copious amount of Superman and Supergirl comics to be able to put everything together, along with various other properties. To be clear, that isn't an excuse for any shortcomings here, but consider yourselves forewarned that this really isn't my usual cup of tea.

Supergirl: The Elegy of Stars

Chapter 1: Chorus

The story ended, as it so often did, with death.

Death had forced her to take this path. Death inflicted by her own hands, in vengeance against one who had inflicted death with her very gaze.

Death of friend, death of mother, death of lover.

The death of an entire world had set her on this journey long ago. It was a death that could never be undone, but now, in this moment, death could be reversed. The road not taken could be trod, through the use of a Legion's ring.

Thus, a return to the moment. The moment with the arms of a worldkiller around her neck, just as the monster's creators had their boot on the neck of an entire world.

"You cannot win," hissed the one who bore the name of Reign. "There is no prison you can build that contain me. There is no one on this planet of equal power that can kill me."

A lie, reflected the Girl of Steel. Reign's reign had ended moments ago, in the road once taken. A death that had resulted in the deaths of those around her. Deaths that, having travelled through time, through the fabric of reality itself, she now sought to avoid.

"That's what you think."

Sam's words sounded the same as they did before. They were the same, even if the Maiden of Might was the only one who knew it. Indeed, part of her welcomed the idea of Sam impaling Reign with the Sword of Juru a second time. To stab the heart of one who had broken so many. Whose coven sought to break an entire world.

And yet, by her code, she would not take life. And by her code, she spoke.

"No!"

One word, but enough to get Sam to hesitate. One moment, and in that moment, time was changed.

One moment was all she needed as she threw Reign over her shoulder, and pinned the monster to the ground.

"Throw me the harun-el," she called out to the daxamite.

The man whose name was Mon-El obliged, even if the look in his eyes told the Last Daughter of Krypton that he understood not why.

It didn't matter. Action, more than understanding, was needed in this moment.

She caught the stone and winced, as the black kryptonite began to burn her palm. Taken from her homeworld, now poison to her veins. But not nearly as poisonous as the murderer she had to banish.

"Shock us again in five minutes," she said, before looking at the sole human in this place. "Sam, now!"

Three palms upon one stone. Three minds, now within Juru. A wood beyond reality – shadows of silence in a forest of Hell. Damnation rather than deliverance, but in this moment?

"Welcome home," murmured Samantha Arias

Justice. Justice that, as Kara beheld, would not be delivered by her hands, but by Sam's. Sam's hand, which struck Reign, sending her flying through the fog-filled air.

"This one's for Ruby!"

There was no fury like a woman scorned, save that of a mother wronged.

"This one's for Patricia," Sam said, as she struck the worldkiller once more – less strong words, and a less strong blow, but not lacking in conviction. If Kara had lost her mother as Sam had…

Well, Reign might not have been able to stand a third blow from her.

"This one…this one's for me."

Though Sam delivered it all the same. Trinity not holy, yet a trio of judgements that left the worldkiller battered all the same, if not yet broken.

But battered enough to give Sam the opportunity she needed, to force the worldkiller to sup from the Fountain of Weakness.

Dark magic, embers dancing in the air, left Reign's body. Weakened, the worldkiller staggered to her feet.

"What have you done to me?" she moaned.

No answer was given bar the spirits of Juru.

No sound but that of Reign screaming, as she was dragged into the poisoned earth. Not beyond Kara's mind, but beyond her sight.

Remains merged with magic.

Remains sullied by kryptonian hand, descending into Hell.

Remains that, as the descent continued, passed through an orb of golden light as-

The story changed, as it so often did, with death.

This story had begun with death. The moment where Nora Allen's death had changed the life of her son and husband. A death that had haunted her son throughout his life, until he found the means to travel through time, and later, the will to travel back even further. To fix her death, and in so doing, bring more death to the world.

Now this world's story was at risk of ending. One world engine stood ready in the Indian Ocean, while at its antipodal point, the Black Zero hovered above Metropolis. If that activated, hundreds would die within seconds, and in mere minutes, thousands.

Billions if the story concluded. A story that she did not know if she could change. For not only had the natives of this world imprisoned her, not only had they fired a missile at her as she and her allies approached what the mad billionaire had called Edwards Air Force Base, but looking at the battle in the desert sands below, it was clear that the armies of Man would be of little aid against the invading kryptonians.

Kryptonians. Her species. But as she had explained to her allies, not her people. So as she and the two lightning idiots arrived on the desert sands, she looked up at the flying fortress she recognized as a Primus-class aerospace craft used mainly as mobile command-and-control vessel to coordinate other kryptonian air assets. An antique by the standards of her people, yet thousands of years more advanced than any human technology on this battlefield, even the one flown by the man who dressed as a flying rodent.

Perhaps that was why its command deck was opening up, revealing a pair of gunners, and a third kryptonian between them, acting as their commander. Confident that no human weapon could harm them.

Confidence that was well founded, given the lack of damage the human army was inflicting on the alien invaders below, roaming the desert sands of Earth as Jo-Mon had Krypton's in ages past. Confidence that, even as Earth's golden sun beat down upon her, energizing her cells, she did not feel herself.

Confidence that reminded her of…

"Zod," Kara Zor-El murmured, before she flew towards the dropship. Hitting the gunners with enough force to send them hurling into oblivion.

Perhaps the fall would kill them. Perhaps their armour would save them. If she survived this war, perhaps she would have the time to contemplate taking the lives of her own species, but for now?

She hovered in the air before the dropship's commander. With his helmet retracted, with naught but a breather separating his face from Earth's atmosphere, she was able to recognize him as the leader of the Sword of Rao, the murderer of her uncle, and the leader of this invasion.

General Dru-Zod. A monster. Bred for a time when Krypton had needed them. And now, the monster who had come to lead this world to ruin.

"Kara Zor-El," he said. "We've been waiting for you."

Even with the light of a yellow sun behind her, Kara's spine became as ice. Thanks to that same sun, she was stronger than Zod, she reminded herself. Even with his armour, he would be no match for her. This battle would be over before he or any of his fellow revolutionaries would have time to adapt.

And yet, as if barely interested in the woman floating before him, he interfaced with his suit's wrist pad, before turning his back to her.

"Kryptoforming has begun," he explained, as a liquid geo display appeared on the command deck's wall. "This world must die so ours may live again."

The ship on the display, which Kara recognized as a prison frigate, activated a gravitic beam – why such a device was attached to such a vessel, Kara had no idea, but the question of "why" was superseded by the realities of "how" and "what."

The gravitic beam would be used to increase the Earth's mass and fill its atmosphere with particulate matter, turning it into a world suitable for Kryptonic life. A process that her people had utilized on countless worlds before their eyes turned away from the stars.

Laws enacted millennia ago forbade the use of such devices on worlds already inhabited by a sapient species. Laws that Zod now openly flouted before her very eyes. And while it shamed her, part of Kara Zor-El wanted to stand down then and there. To see her homeworld reborn. Her people reborn.

But she remembered the symbol upon her chest. She remembered the three humans who she dared consider friends, who had rescued her, who were now fighting below and above her.

To this poisoned branch, there was only one answer she could give.

"Krypton is gone, Zod," she whispered.

He didn't seem to hear her. "Your uncle, Jor-El, hid the key to Krypton's rebirth inside a kryptonian child."

Kal-El, she realized.

"All the genetic material needed to start again, coded inside the DNA, then sent to Earth in an escape pod."

"He's not here. You have failed."

"We found him."

The ice that had crept up Kara's spine reached her heart. She looked at Zod – the last she had seen him, he'd had the rage of a rondor. As her pod and her cousin's had launched from the Citadel of El, she had watched in horror as the general slew her uncle. His soldiers had fired at both their pods before they had escaped Krypton's atmosphere, and in so doing, the doom that had come for it.

"We intercepted his pod," Zod explained. "But your cousin was not the one we needed." He paused, before murmuring, "you are the one, Kara Zor-El. It is your blood we must harvest."

No blood escaped her. Tears however, did.

"What did you do to Kal-El?" she whispered.

"Your sacrifice that will allow Krypton to live again."

"What did you do?!"

Her voice, louder than the battle below, rang through the air. Zod, much to her shock, closed his eyes. Displayed for the first time as a soldier of Krypton, regret, before murmuring, "the infant did not survive."

The tears left Kara's face through evaporation. As her eyes blazed with the red glow of Rao itself, powered by the light of Sol.

Two stars. Two streams of energy that hit Zod's armour, but did not penetrate it.

Neither did she as she slammed into the general with a goddess's rage. As she sent him falling to the desert below. As she flew after him and hit the monster again and again, like a child playing with a toy.

She was not playing. But despite her strength, it would take more blows than she could count to defeat Zod. As many as were necessary.

All of which she delivered, as the battle reached the point where Zod, outmatched, was cornered against the remains of one of his own dropships. Where, taking up the rotary blade of a human aircraft, she used it to hit the murderer again, and again, and again.

As many times as were needed. Blow after blow. Until she used the blade to impact his breather. Leaving the general's body embedded in the dropship's frame itself.

Both dropship and general – dead.

One death to save billions, she reflected, as she dropped the blade and collapsed, wheezing. Even with Earth's sun empowering her, she had limits. It had been less than 24 Terran hours since she had been released from the Siberian black site, and it would take many more hours, years even, to reach the heights a kryptonian could reach beneath a yellow sun.

Her abilities had not left her entirely however – the sounds and smells of the battlefield assailed her senses. Shots, screams, the crackle of lightning. It was tempting to lie down on the sand and rest, satisfied in the knowledge that she had avenged her cousin.

But even with Zod dead, billions of lives were still at stake. The world engine remained over the Indian Ocean, and the Black Zero above Metropolis. She would have to fly to both of them, or…

Or she could do this the easy way. With a grunt, she rose to her feet, and took the general's limp arm in her own, activating his wrist pad. The interface showed the Black Zero above Metropolis. A simple shutdown order from the device and-

She felt the blade pass through her stomach.

She stared at it in horror. A wrist blade, she realized – standard issue for Warrior Guild battle armour. Steel forged on Krypton itself, able to penetrate even her flesh.

She fell into the sand. Heard the sound of that same armour moving. Looked up, bleeding, as Zod removed himself from the wreckage, his blade dripping with her blood.

Her senses were already leaving her, yet she heard…saw…the Telle-class dropship descend. Smaller and more mobile than their Primus counterpart, able to quickly deploy warriors into battle.

Her battle…as the blood poured from her stomach, she knew it was already over.

She saw two kryptonian soldiers emerge from it, carrying an extractor. She was still conscious as Zod took it in his hands. She let out a whimper as its needle impaled her where his blade had. Her hands pressed against it, but she was too weak to fight against the device.

Zod had killed her uncle. Now he had taken her life as well. Just as he was taking the Codex from her cells, its golden light reflecting upon Zod's breather.

"Rest, Kara Zor-El," he whispered.

She did not hear the sound of the dropship leaving.

She did not hear the sound of the Speed Force nearing.

All she beheld was death's darkness.

And the light of a golden sphere, consuming her vision as-

The story began, as it so often did, with death.

Krypton was dying. Over a billion kryptonians were about to die as well.

Cold comfort for the five cycle old child that she was not to be among them.

She had known it was coming, despite her parents' attempts to hide the truth. She had heard her father and uncle arguing. She had held her cousin in her arms, assuring him all would be well, yet seen the fear in his mother's eyes. She had felt the groundquakes that the Council of Five insisted did not exist, despite the protestations of her uncle, and when the truth became incontrovertible, changed their tune to insisting it was nothing to worry about.

Small comfort for the Rankless who called the lower levels of Argo home. Crushed by debris that the decaying civilization of Krypton could no longer maintain.

She had watched her uncle plead his case before the council. Beheld his excommunication, as Jor of the House of El was stripped of rank and title. She had listened, despite the efforts of her pillow, to her own gene-sires arguing – to stay silent in indignity, or take up the cause of her father's brother, despite the risks to both of them, not to mention their daughter.

In the end, General Dru-Zod had made the choice for them. One last effort to save Krypton from destruction as its leaders debated the minutia of facing the apocalypse. A coup to be followed by martial law, followed in turn by the construction of an exodus armada, saving Krypton's best and brightest, all of whom would, of course, be selected by the general himself.

In the end, he had been captured and executed, but not before ensuring that his people spent their last days killing each other.

And now the end had come. She had been woken from her slumber by her parents. They had ignored her protestations as they quickly fit her into a skinsuit. Her pleading to find her pet isix. Just as they had done for as long as she could remember, they had treated her with cool detachment (a step up from disappointment, she supposed), led her out of her bedroom and down towards the lowest level of El Spire as a groundquake struck the spire harder than Kara's trembling.

El Spire. Their citadel in Argo. Constructed as the seat of power for House Ja, once named Hope Spire, later acquired by House El after Ja's collapse thousands of cycles ago, for what other Great House was there on Krypton that better symbolized what the spire had been built for? Standing tall as the city crumbled outside, yet it too doomed to collapse. Not even hope could hold up the weight of a world. As the groundquake larger than any she had thus felt struck Argo, it struck Kara as foolish to head down rather than up, but she soon realized three things.

The first, as she'd looked out the windows of the citadel, as buildings crumbled and skimmers crashed, was that the sky provided only marginal more safety than the ground, which even now was cracking. As if Yuda Kal had come to swallow the living. Or perhaps drown them, as the waters of Eiu rushed in to fill the cracks, drowning the guilty and innocent alike before the fires of the dying world took them instead.

The second was that the Kelex units in the citadel remained oblivious, and that the Rankless servants her gene-sires employed, trying to save themselves or each other…they would find no succour from the scions of this Great House, no matter how many looks of sympathy their offspring spared. The desperate would flee for non-existent shelter, the wise would spend their last moments together.

The third thing she realized, as the trio reached El Spire's underground hanger, replete with skimmers and similar craft, was that the pod which would take her beyond the sky, a pod that shouldn't even be operational given Krypton's longstanding moratorium on space travel, would only fit one.

She'd protested. She'd wept. She'd screamed. Her father had taken her into his arms, ignoring her feeble blows of protest against the golden glyph upon his chest. That symbol of hope, in a situation where there was none, on a world that had lost hope long ago. He had forced his wayward daughter into the pod, her tiny hands pressing against the steelglass that separated her from her gene-sires.

She could still hear them as they explained what was about to happen. The pod's course was pre-programmed, and would take her to the planet Rado, located 2000 light years away. It would be harsh, it would be dangerous, but orbiting a red star not unlike Rao, it would give their only daughter a chance at life.

A chance granted to no-one else on this world.

Thus, with more tears than all the waters of Eiu itself, with farewells marred by her petulant defiance, the pod was launched using a gravitational accelerator. Out of the underground hanger of the home she had known her entire five cycles, and would never know again.

As she shot in the ash-filled air, she could see her home, her entire city, collapse as great chasms ripped the land asunder. As furious and deep as Eiu's waters were, they were as nothing to the magma that boiled to the surface, as if Krypton itself were bleeding. Pyroclastic flows raged across the continent of Lurvan before reaching Argo, engulfing whatever unfortunate souls who still lived within the city. She knew it was impossible, but looking downward, as the black-grey wave engulfed her home, she could hear the peoples' screams.

As she had noted before, the air provided scant refuge. Skimmers burst into flame as the super-heated air melted their frames. She saw some of her people leap off the tallest buildings, attempting to soar through the sky on grav-belts, only to be met with the same grotesque fate.

Not even H'Melar's wings would have been of use this final day.

She watched those great citadels collapse, as the legacy of Son-Ja was removed from the gaze of Rao. Bioengineered masonry that had stood for tens of thousands of years collapsed into dust and bone.

There was no refuge left on Krypton. Only a chance at life amongst the stars. Stars that were beyond her sight as the atmosphere of her world was choked with dust, and the last breaths of over a billion souls.

Her pod buckled and bounced as it rose upward. She clenched the sides of her pilot's chair, even if she was nothing about how to fly save that one time at Hadred's Head. The course was automated, her mother had explained. She could only sit back and enjoy the ride, or rather, endure it in mute terror.

She endured, as she always had, and with the tears her cheeks had long become accustomed to.

It took over 20 dendars[1] for the pod to finally clear Krypton's atmosphere. An image appeared on the pod's screen, unbidden but not unwanted, as it showed her homeworld from above.

Krypton was burning – as horrific as Argo's destruction had been, from orbit, distance was no shield against horror. From this airless void, she could see great fissures rending the planet's crust asunder, and already, she could see glimpses of the planet's outer core.

The heart of the planet, long abused by her people, a world that had formed 10 billion cycles ago, now finally giving out one last violent gasp.

She would not behold Krypton's last moments, as the pod's phantom drive activated. It would take her through the Phantom Zone before emerging in Rado's star system. Turning her tear-stained eyes to the pod's interface, it told her that two cycles would pass in real-time, whereas for her, it would be mere thribs.

She wept, as only a child could. It was unbecoming for a daughter of an ancient and noble house, but what did that mean anymore? What meaning left for this silver glyph upon her chest, upon a black skinsuit far removed from the traditional colours of her house? Colours she would never now wear?

The light of her people had gone. The only light that remained behind was that of Rao and the remains of a planet's core, forever sundered.

Neither of their light was beheld by Kara Zor-El's eyes however, but rather, a light up ahead. White-silver, as space-time was bent, and her pod prepared to enter the Phantom Zone, bypassing the laws of space and time to cross the stars in the blink of an eye.

Yet another light appeared before her. The light of a giant golden sphere. Rotating. Too small, too dim to be a star. Rather, it was like a tear in the fabric of reality itself.

Not one, she suspected, that was being generated by her ship's phantom drive.

Yet the course was set. Her pod shot forward.

It passed through the sphere of gold and-

The stories ended, and a new story began.

Because that's the thing with stories.

They never end. They are always retold.

Again, and again, and again. Across time. Space. Entire realities across the Divine Continuum.

Not every story's beginning is happy.

And their endings?

Likewise.

Footnotes

[1: A kryptonian time measurement, akin to a human second. 100 thribs make up a dendar.