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Supergirl: The Elegy of Stars

Chapter 4: Adagio

The story had, of course, ended. She'd spent the last decade living its epilogue.

When she's begun telling that story, she'd had suspicions about the nature of the voice. It seemed too good to be true that there was another kryptonian just mere metres away from her, or only slightly less miraculous, someone who could speak Kryptonese. Due to her kind's self-imposed, she doubted that there were many aliens in the galaxy who could speak her language fluently.

But after speaking for all this time (well over an hour by her estimate), the suspicions had faded. All that had mattered to Kara Zaryanova, once named Kara Zor-El, was the story itself. To be able to tell it, and in so doing, relive it.

Not a happy story of course. Thirteen months in the company of her adoptive parents, only seven of which could be called joyful. But more joyful in retrospect than her first five cycles on Krypton, and certainly more joyful than the life she'd endured within these walls.

"So you recovered," the voice murmured. "Things got better."

Kara wiped her eye. "They did."

"Better, but not so much that you were able to avoid this place."

"The sun gave me strength, but not as much as I needed when the time came."

She wondered if the voice would ask her to relive that particular memory. The day she'd lost a parent, along with her second life.

"Have you tried to escape?"

"I did. At first." Kara looked up at the red lights above her – the same colour of a setting sun, casting admonition upon an alien whose original sun had set forever. "But stay in a place like this long enough, endure the darkness, and the starvation, and…other things, and before long, the bars become walls."

"Very poetic," murmured the voice. "The Trials and Tribulations of Jo-Mon."

Kara remained silent.

"Only he, in the end, broke walls and bars alike, ushering Krypton into a so-called golden age by unifying the planet, while you have remained contained."

Still she remained silent.

"Well, don't worry," said the voice, an edge in the woman's voice that hadn't been there before. "I'll be out of here soon. And if you're a good girl, I'll take you with me."

"Out of here?" Kara asked. "How in Rao's name could you get us out of here?"

"Quite easily, I assure you."

"And yet, here you are," Kara pointed out.

"Here I am," the voice acknowledged. "But maybe I'm right where I need to be. And if not, I've been here for much less than ten of these planet's years."

Kara frowned. It occurred to her that she'd spent over an hour relating her story to the voice beyond her door, yet knew nothing of the woman's origin, let alone her name.

Of course, maybe this was all her imagination. She was not even sure she was sane. A sane person would have long resigned themselves to this place, cut off from sun, moon, or hope.

"How soon?" Kara whispered, having long realized that sanity was overrated.

"Soon," whispered the voice. "Very, very soon…"

That wasn't an answer, Kara reflected. And yet, when asked, the voice obliged.

"Soon, before hour is too late. Soon enough, so that the sins of our jailers will be given just desserts within our lifetime."

"Lifetime," Kara murmured. "What do you know of a lifetime in these walls?"

"Believe me," whispered the voice. "I understand the nature of a prison very well."

"But I-"

"Rest now, Kara Zor-El. You'll get the answers due to you in time."

Kara asked as to how long that would be, but the voice spoke no more. Nor did the gene-scion of House El, as she fell silent and retired to bed.

Perhaps freedom was coming, she reflected. Perhaps, in all likelihood, it was not – if there was a kryptonian beyond her sight, what could avail her? She was captured, and if she had the means to escape, why not do so now?

Her captors were not fools. If a second kryptonian had come to Earth, they'd had a decade to learn her strengths and weaknesses. Not being fools, they would have set up lights that simulated the glow of a red sun long before her fellow prisoner entered her cell. Perhaps the prisoner, like her, had realized that sanity was overrated in a place such as this, and therefore, it was better to dream, however cruel the waking might be.

So without word, she fell upon her mattress and awaited sleep. To enter world that was entirely her own.

Perhaps she was more than what dreams were made of, but in this place, her little life was rounded with sleep.

The stars were different here.

That, Kara Zaryanova knew, was the most obvious statement one could make about the night sky of planet Earth. The stars here were different from those on Krypton. Just as they would be different from those on Tamaran, or Daxam, or Ungara, or any other countless worlds she'd heard of, dreamt of visiting, and now, never would. Heck, she could travel to this planet's southern hemisphere, and behold an entire new set of constellations.

Seven months had passed since she'd arrived on Earth. It was the second month of the Terran year, and while it was still winter, already she could see the first signs of spring. Grass emerging from beneath the snow, leaves starting to return to the taiga trees. There was a chill in the air, but her body having adapted to Earth's yellow sun, Kara barely felt it.

"Time for bed, Kara."

Not that her adoptive mother seemed to care.

"I'm not sleepy," Kara protested.

"Kara, come on."

"I spent six months in a bed, I don't need sleep now."

"I know you say that, but remember what happened last time?"

As she sat upon the porch of the Zaryanova farmstead, Kara frowned – "last time," as her mother had put it, had involved her saying she wasn't sleepy every hour or so, each statement filled with more falsehood than the last, until her parents had found her tiny frame outside, snoring, and carried her up to bed. She may have adjusted to Earth's atmosphere, but she'd also adjusted to its day-night cycle.

Kara Zor-El prided herself on being able to learn from her mistakes. Which meant that, as her mother came outside with a mug of hot chocolate, she promised that she'd be in by eleven.

"Ten."

"Eleven," Kara pouted.

"Ten."

"But I-"

"Shall I make it nine, Snowbird?"

Kara rolled her eyes, before taking the mug, bringing it up to her face.

"And don't make that face at me young lady."

"How'd you know?"

"My little Snowbird, I don't need x-ray vision to know when you're pouting."

Kara lowered the mug, smiling sheepishly. Laughing, her mother wiped the chocolate from her mouth.

Chocolate, as Kara had come to learn, was one of the best things about Earth. Even better than her x-ray vision – the sun had enhanced her speed, strength, and hearing, but it had started giving her new powers as well – in this case, the ability to see through walls. See inside the bodies of her parents, Kometa, and even the cows.

She's struggled at first. Been terrified even. It was one thing to have her own natural senses, but this was without precedent. She'd kept her eyes closed, she'd shut herself in her room, she'd begged her parents not to come in and see her.

But as always, the Zaryanovas had endured. They had been there for her. Just as Kara had mastered her hearing, listening only to what she wanted to, she had mastered her sight as well. Learnt how to control the ability. Find the exact place where Kometa had fractured his leg last week, allowing Sergei to set the cast and earn Kara no shortage of nuzzles from that stupid horse.

As the daughter of two scientists, Kara had inherited her gene-sires' love of knowledge (in that, as a member of the Thinker Guild, she hadn't disappointed them), and she knew that studying this ability would make for interesting research. Kryptonians had long theorized on what abilities they might gain under a yellow sun, and now, she was living proof…even if she was the only kryptonian left to discover them.

A sobering thought, but one Kara had learnt to live with. She might have been bereft of a sunstone (a type of crystal used for data storage), but she had a mind, a memory, and hands with which to jot what she could recall.

Perhaps one day, she would. But tonight, like almost every night for the past month, her interests lay in the stars. Just as they had for her father.

Before her was a small telescope – low resolution even by Earth's standards, not even able to see Uranus, let alone the planet beyond (or planets – Sergei insisted that Pluto was a planet for some reason).

Unlike even the most run-of-the-mill telescope on Krypton, this one was bereft of quantum-refraction properties, which meant that any star she turned it to would appear as it did in the past. It had occurred to her when the telescope first entered her hands that she might be able to see Rao again. But as a red star, her homeworld's sun was far too dim to be seen by a telescope such as this. And no piece of human technology had the means of actually observing planets in orbits of stars. She could not see Krypton as it was, nor as it had once been. Not even its sister planets, be they little Jarhanpur, or in the far reaches of the Rao system, the great rings of Wynth.[1]

It had frustrated her. But she'd hid her frustrations when Natalya had explained that the telescope had used to belong to their son – a gift for his tenth birthday. Like so many people in this country, nay, this world, he had dreamt of the stars before Earth's more sordid elements pulled him into the mud. Despite the glories of Heaven, so many human eyes were focused upon the ground.

She was not born of this world – she had been born under a star large enough to fill a horizon, where beholding stars other than Rao was a rarity unless you travelled to the planet's nightside. Hence, in childish wonder, she had set up the telescope and begun stargazing. Making star charts using pointy devices called "pencils," writing on dead trees called "paper."

(How the trees felt about that arrangement was a question Kara didn't have an answer to.)

"You know, I could get you a stargazer's atlas," Natalya said, as she sipped a strange substance from her own mug that was called "tea."

"You could," said Kara as she continued to draw her star map. "But my tutor back home always said that one learns better by doing."

"With a telescope like this?"

Kara wasn't sure what to say (that it was adequate? That she wanted a better one?), so she sipped some more of her hot chocolate, the taste less sweet than before.

"Maybe we could take you to an observatory," Natalya added. "Sergei was an engineer before Alek was born, he never lost his interest in the stars either."

"But now he's on a farm," Kara said.

Natalya nodded as she took a seat. "Now he's on a farm."

Her adoptive parents had met in Kemerovo nearly three Terran decades ago – Sergei Zaryanova, a man out of work in a collapsing economy, and Natalya Grishenko, an administrative assistant on a wage that could barely feed her. They'd met, they'd got married, they'd had a son, they'd steadily made their way east across Russia until they were able to purchase this parcel of land in Irkutsk Oblast. It was a hard life, but a life better than the ones they'd been able to live before meeting each other. And until their son had been conscripted, it was a life that he'd been able to share with them.

To Kara, it had felt quaint – not only the idea of having to grow food, but stumbling around and meeting people, rather than being selected for genetic compatibility and the furthering of one's noble house. Her parents had undergone the Binding ritual, their union devised by the Houses of El and Ze and given approval by the Matricomp – the same for every kryptonian bar the Rankless.[2]

As it turned out, Earth didn't really go for nobility these days. They still had kings and queens, but many of them had gone on dates with guillotines, or in this country's case, shot. On her homeworld, she was a member of one of the most esteemed houses of Krypton's history, whereas here, naught but a peasant.

It made her respect Zaltar all the more in hindsight. Having had plenty of time to reflect these past seven months, she hoped she hadn't been too condescending to him. But he'd been a Rankless, she a gene-scion of a Great House, and the only means he or any other Rankless could gain nobility was through patronage, and that was given as sparingly as the Council of Five gave out tonzols.[3]

Having once beheld the slums of Kandor, Zor-El had once said there was no nobility in poverty. Having lived in what even Houses Minor could consider poverty these last seven months however, Kara had begun to wonder. And had not her grandfather, Seg-El, been a Rankless before restoring the House of El?

Politics, she reflected. They'd been as conceited on Krypton as on Earth. Seeking distraction from memory and political theory, she took down the coordinates of another star.

"Capella," Natalya said.

"I knew that," said Kara irritably.

"I know Snowbird, but you're not the only one who likes stars."

And yet I'm the only one who's flown amongst them, the little girl thought as she adjusted the telescope again.

She was glad she didn't voice such thoughts, even as they remained, along with the conundrum of where she fit in upon this world. Because on one hand, she was dependent on the Zaryanovas to survive. Seven months after arriving on this planet, she'd come to regard them as family. She loved them, and understood that they did her.

Yet on the other, she was still alien. She was still better than them. Her intelligence and knowledge alike outstripped theirs combined. She could help Sergei fix the tractor, while lamenting the lack of proper fusion cells. She could spend hours helping Natalya make dinner, while lamenting the lack of a replicator. She was able to do things Aleksander hadn't until he was three times her age. Even Kometa was beginning to respect her.

So as the months had worn on, as her strength began to match her intellect, she began to think about the future. She could, given enough time, bring Earth into a new age, yet here she was. Drawing stars. Acting like a child of five Terran years, and much to her embarrassment, enjoying it.

"Stars must be different here."

She looked at her mother – she was still there. Trying to make conversation.

"Didn't you say your homeworld was tidally locked?" Natalya added.

She had, and Kara hesitated for a moment. Natalya and her husband were not stupid. They might not understand how to operate a phantom drive, but they still understood the basic tenets of the universe. They understood, as Kara did, that because Krypton was tidally locked with Rao, you could only see stars in certain parts of the planet. They understood that she could spend a lifetime with this telescope, and never find her homeworld. That even if she had a telescope large enough to see Rao, actually finding it was another matter.

"Did your stargaze back home?" Natalya added. "I mean, where you could see the stars."

Kara shrugged – she didn't feel like talking about home right now.

"Have you found any of the same ones?"

Kara relented, and looked over her scribbles. "Maybe." She tapped Vega. "This one, here? I think it's Tanzaran – home system of the tamaraneans."

"More aliens," Natalya murmured.

"More aliens," Kara repeated. "And yet from here, it feels so empty."

Natalya remained silent.

"These stars," Kara continued. "I suppose from here, you can't know if they're still shining or not. I could go to the biggest telescope on this planet, look at the biggest, brightest star, and yet I'd only be seeing how it looked in the past. Like…"

"Rao?" Natalya whispered.

Kara looked at her. The human's face was unreadable, yet the kryptonian's insides squirmed all the same. There were times, like this, when even mentioning her homeworld generated guilt. These people had taken them in, and yet, every time Kara mentioned a certain arid world orbiting a red giant, she felt like she was snubbing them. All these wonders that she could only describe, that the Zaryanovas would never see. Wonders that, if ever replicated by humanity, would not be accomplished in their lifetimes.

And yet there were other times when they were enraptured. She could spend hours at the kitchen table discussing her homeworld. Its history, its geography, its biology, its people… Never once did they question the alien girl they'd brought into their lives, as they'd hung on every word. Once, Kara had lagged behind in her studies, but here, she was a child genius.

The Zaryanovas had shared the history of humanity as well, even if what most of Kara had absorbed had been from various books. Kara had quickly picked up that she'd arrived in a turbulent time in this planet's history, but even that was nothing compared to the last hundred cycles.

Wars, dictators, the collapse of empires…as strange as it was to say, she'd arrived in perhaps the most peaceful period in this planet's history, and yet, war and strife were as constant as gravity.

But there were other things her parents had taught her as well, such as those who had broken Earth's gravity (a fraction of Krypton's, granted) and graced the stars. Of those who had enraptured Aleksander – names of Yuri Gagarin and Valentina Tereshkova, of Alexei Leonov and Svetlana Savitskaya. They'd appeared embarrassed, showing Kara of what they knew to her eyes would be little more than elaborate firecrackers, but Kara had read the books, fascinated.

Earth's gravity was weaker than Krypton's true – because Krypton's gravity was so intense, it meant that getting into space at all was a hindrance. But as comparatively easy as breaking Earth's surly bonds of gravity were, she couldn't help but admire these people. Men and women, shot into the void for the sake of scientific discovery.

She was a long way from building her own spaceship, let alone rebooting the pod that remained beneath the barn. She was still a child, and that, she'd learnt, allowed her to act as one, whether it be drinking hot chocolate, or drawing star maps. But still…

"Mama?"

Natalya opened her eyes – she must have dozed off. She was 59 Terran years old, which meant she was approaching the twilight years of her life. Her hair, like her eyes, was the colour of good soil, but already Kara could see streaks of grey. While kryptonian lives were measured in centuries due to their mastery of genetics and medicine, humans' were in mere decades. While not far removed from her biological mother's age at the time of her death, Natalya looked ten times as old.

"Do you think I'm meant to do something?" Seeing the uncomprehending look in her mother's eyes, Kara added, "I mean, help this world. If I could go into science, if I could find a way to replicate my kind's technology…hunger? Gone. Spaceflight? A technicality. Species restoration? Doable."

"And what about war?" Natalya asked.

"I…" Kara bit her lip – she wanted to say that would never happen. She was a child of the Thinker Guild – hardly a Warrior brute or a Labourer drone. But then, it was Thinkers who built the weapons that Warriors used. For every achievement of kryptonian technology, there was an example where that same technology had been used to inflict death and destruction. As the Green Death[4] had been cured, so too had the Yellow Death been inflicted on the Reach. As kryptonians had taken to the stars, so too had they warred among them. They had mined their planet's own core, powering their civilization, and in so doing, damned themselves and their entire planet.

Humanity, as she'd come to learn, was scarce different. For every advancement in technology, from fossil fuels to the atom, there were applications for peace and war both. Much further down the ladder than her own species, but it was the same ladder regardless.

And yet…

"I have to do something," said Kara. "I mean, I'm never going home, and I can't stay on a farm for the rest of my life."

"Why not?" Natalya asked.

"Come on," said Kara, giving her mother a playful shove. "Farm work's nice and all, but it's not really world changing."

"And who said you had to change the world?"

Kara sensed that she'd hurt Natalya, which in turn, hurt her as well. A lifetime ago, she'd have had fun tormenting the servants of El Spire, reminding lesser castes of their place, throwing stones at Rankless when she'd visited Kandor, but now?

"Look," said Kara. "I appreciate everything you've done, but if I'm stuck here, I might as well improve things."

"You have improved things," Natalya said, almost pleading

"Sure, sure," said Kara. "But I mean, you're not my real mother and I…"

She trailed off, only now realizing what she'd said. The statement was true, in of itself – she was the daughter of Zor-El and Alura In-Ze. They'd mixed their DNA after gaining approval from Matricomp[5] their daughter had grown in a genesis chamber, she'd emerged as a flawed, yet acceptable genetic specimen and given her name in the subsequent ceremony. Despite her obvious defects, she had not emerged from the loins of Natalya Zaryanova, through the act of coitus by Sergei.

But there were times when it was better to leave the truth buried.

"Mama…"

Natalya looked at her watch. "Bedtime," she whispered.

"Mama, I didn't mean…"

"Bed, Kara."

She folded her arms. "No."

"Kara, bed."

"I said no."

"Kara, you may not think I'm your mother, but-"

"You're not my mother, you're just a human, and you cannot force me to go to bed!"

"Kara, go to bed this instant before I-"

Kara screamed.

The force of it was enough to get Natalya to fall – thankfully back into her chair. The nearby window was not as lucky as its glass was shattered.

That might have been the extent of the damage if not for the way Kara had clenched her fist. As the mug of hot chocolate exploded in her hand.

Kara staggered back, her eyes wide in horror. Thick, brown liquid covered her right hand. Beneath it, a similarly warm, yet different sensation of another liquid.

Blood. Red. Dripping upon the porch. Staining it with her shame.

Natalya looked at her in horror, and Kara winced. She'd never seen Natalya look at her like that. Irritated, disappointed, even…but not scared.

"What happened?!"

Sergei came out through the front door. Held his wife, as if to protect her from the demon child.

"I…"

"Kara, what did you do?!"

"I…I…"

She was a child again. She was not the daughter of a noble house. She was nothing but Kara Zaryanova, and she was afraid.

Not only because of what she saw before her, but she what she felt within. A small part, deep inside, urging her not to back down.

She was smarter than them, it reminded her. Better than them. Their kind were still digging in the dirt for grubs when hers were sailing the stars. She'd treated them as their parents, when in truth, they should treat her as a saviour. Natalya should treat her as a god, not the invisible one she prayed to.

Only a part of her thought these things, but it was part enough. Enough to prompt Kara to gasp as Sergei walked towards her, and run into the night.

"Kara!"

Ears burning in shame, heart burning in terror, as her little legs carried her across the grass.

For the first six months, Earth's atmosphere had poisoned her. Now, she could feel the difference. Each day, she was growing stronger. Faster.

Blood splattered across the grass as she clenched her hand, the pain numb to her. How long, she wondered, until she felt no pain at all? How long until she stopped bleeding altogether? What if this strength consumed her? What if consumed everything?

She kept running – the night less dark than it should be to her ever-improving eyes. She wasn't as strong as she might have been during the day, but even at night, the strength remained. The moon was full, and with it, she still received Sol's light. By itself, the moon would not be enough to give her even a fraction of the sun's power, and yet, she felt it.

Her cells strengthening. Her hand already starting to heal.

"Kara!"

She stopped – looking back, she could see her parents with their torches. Stumbling through the dark like dumb animals, only ready to be put down and-

"Go away," she whimpered, as she sank into the grass. "Go away…"

She rocked back and forth, as she cradled her head. She could hear her parents calling for her. She could hear the song of crickets…the whispers of birds…the breath of the wind…all the world calling to her, in all its beauty, and yet, the voice remained. Unable to be drowned out.

That arrogant, cruel voice that was not as much a stranger as she wished.

Children could be cruel. As the gene-scion of the House of El, she'd had plenty of opportunities to be cruel, and more than once, on her homeworld, she'd taken them. If she took them now, even without these powers?

Earth was an imperfect world. There were good people on it – perhaps they only lacked the light to show them the way. But she was not some saviour on high, she was not Rao's daughter to die upon a cross, she was just an alien freak. And if she hurt people?

"Kara?"

She looked up – her parents had found her. In the dark, she could see their faces. Sergei, concerned, but cautious. Natalya, concerned, and warm.

"Kara, are you alright?"

She shook her head as her mother squatted down before her. Asked to see her hand. Seeing no point in resistance, Kara obliged.

"Look at that," Natalya whispered. "Almost as good as new."

"It's wrong," Kara whispered.

Natalya struggled to say something.

"I'm a freak," the young girl said.

"Oh my Little Snowbird…"

Snowbird. The word was like acid to Kara's ears.

Snow was alien to her. Birds were alien to her – a myth of Krypton made manifest on Earth. What escaped their mouths was naught but music, while her own tongue was so often barbed. She'd hurt her mother, and her fear was that she'd hurt them again.

"Could be worse," Sergei said. "Better to bleed too little than too much, eh?"

Kara sniffed, as she clenched her fist. She willed more blood to flow. She wanted to be reminded of her own mortality, lest she forget the mortality of others.

"I don't want this," Kara whispered. "I don't want to be special."

"You are special," Natalya whispered.

"I don't want these powers," Kara sobbed. "I don't want to be like this. I just want to…to be…"

"Kara," said Natalya, "when I say you're special, do you think it's because you've got this magic?"

Kara sniffed.

"You're special here," Natalya whispered, poking Kara's forehead, "and here," she added, poking the girl's heart. "And that's special enough."

How long she sat there in the grass, she knew not. But in time, be it the brush of grass or the turning of worlds, she got up. Took hold of her parents' hands, as they led her back home.

She could have walked in silence, knowing that her hand had healed, and her heart was beginning to mend in turn. But in the silence, she looked upward. Not to the stars, but rather, to Earth's single moon.

It was brighter than any of the four back home. Her parents, and indeed humanity, often simply called it "the moon," just as they called their star "the sun." Kara understood, but to her, such names betrayed their beauty, the moon's most of all. For while she could not look at the sun without being blinded, the moon's glow was gentler.

She wished she could give it a name, like the four moons of her homeworld. A name like Telle, Yorda, Yuda, or Cythonna. Names of old kryptonian gods, before Rao became the only god they needed, and in turn spurred, as science eclipsed even a god's light.

Now those moons were gone, or, if they had survived the destruction of Krypton, cast into the endless void.

She had spent seven months mourning Krypton. That was a wound that would never really heal. But only now did she think of its moons. Airless balls of rock, like Earth's, yet beautiful as well. Fated never to have eye cast upon them again.

But she had wept enough this night, and thus, began to sing.

She felt the hands of her parents leave hers. They stopped walking and stared. Ashamed, Kara ceased her tune

"What was that?" Sergei asked.

"Nothing," Kara whispered.

"Come on, Snowbird," he said, not unkindly. "A voice such as that is not to be hidden."

"My voice isn't beautiful," Kara said immediately.

"Kara…"

"You…wouldn't understand it," she said, brushing her hair in shame. "It's in Kryptonese."

Just saying that felt like another stab to the chest. Words in a language spoken by none but her. A language that she had no idea how to teach to her new parents, and did not think it was desirable to.

"And who says the words of a song must be understood to be beautiful?" Natalya asked.

Kara smiled in embarrassment. She did not sing, but rather spoke, by way of answer.

"On Krypton, there was a place known as Tor-Aranok – That Place of Illuminated Darkness. It is as dark and cold as one could find, for it was on the far side of the planet, facing ever outward into space, its back forever to Rao – non-survivable for any kryptonian without a thermal suit. There were old superstitions that it was a place for the damned, and in less gentle days, our noble houses would banish criminals there. To die in a place where Rao's light could not claim them. Fated to become wraiths – lesser even than the air which the living breathed."

"And yet, when I was three, I visited that place as part of an entourage of Thinker Guild students. I beheld the stars as I never had before. Beauty, even in a place known for death. And when I returned to Argo, when I told her of what I'd seen my mother taught me that song. A lament for those lost, a lament for the stars themselves, for even they would fade." Kara bit her lip, before whispering, "in this language, it translates as The Elegy of Stars."

No more words passed between the trio as Kara was led back to the house. She feared that she'd wounded her parents yet again – to speak of her old mother, of a language beyond their tongues, of a world beyond their reach. Indeed, as Natalya returned her to bed, no words escaped her mother's lips. Those lips, which rested upon her forehead, briefer than before.

And yet, as she moved towards the darkness's exit?

"Will you teach me, Kara?"

The little girl looked up at the woman standing on the terminus between light and dark. "In my language?" she asked.

"In whatever language you like."

Kara smiled within the gloom. "Of course, mama."

Even without her improved eyesight, she could see her mother smile as well.

A smile that remained upon her lips as she drifted into sleep.

A smile that faded as she woke up to the sounds of sirens, screams, and gunfire.

Footnotes

[1]: Because Rao was a red giant, many kryptonians theorized that planets had existed further in the system before it expanded, swallowing them. There was ample evidence that Rao I (Jarhanpur) was habitable before Rao expanded, eliminating the possibility of any life evolving, let alone surviving. It was widely acknowledged that it was only after Rao (the star) expanded that Krypton (Rao II) became habitable, leading to Rao (the deity) being associated with life as much as light.

[2]: At the time of its destruction, kryptonian society operated on three tiers – the Great Houses, the Houses Minor, and the Rankless. The Great Houses said the Rankless were barbaric because instead of having their unions arranged, they married freely. The Rankless said the Great Houses were tyrants because of the same reason.

[3]: The standard currency of Krypton at the time of its destruction.

[4]: Green Death was a name given to a green radioactive mineral found in Krypton's lithosphere. Exposure to the mineral, even in the smallest doses, could prove lethal to kryptonians, as the Voice of Rao used to great effect with his Sun Knights, whose spears were tipped with the substance. The deeper kryptonians mined, the more Green Death was recovered, which led to reverse-engineering its properties to form the Yellow Death against the Reach (a bio-weapon which generated similar, yet deadlier symptoms), and in the case of boring accident at Pilga, a fatality rate of 90% as green crystals jutted through the city-state 90 cycles before the destruction of Krypton. After said destruction, unconfirmed reports indicate that Green Death fell into the hands of various salvagers, pirates, and even members of the Green Lantern Corps, who classified the material as XK1943 – Kryptonite.

[5]: A branch of Krypton's government, subservient to the Council of Five. While the Great and Minor Houses typically arranged marriages, approval had to be granted before the union was sealed. This was done in order to prevent any one single house gaining too much power, and more importantly, preserving the genetic purity of kryptonian bloodlines.