She moved with all the grace she could muster. One-step, two-step, there wasn’t enough time to be consciously careful. Her body knew the movements, the flow, the way the steps combined with one another to form a beautiful dance. Repetition burned the patterns into her muscles until they were nothing more than an extension of her art. Each pattern had it’s own openings, its own weaknesses, she knew them too. She’d seen them, been exposed to them, over and over until it hurt. But she learned, she loved learning. She loved this thrill even more, though, the chill that raced through her body as she reacted to each reaction to her openings and came up with a response on the fly. It was like her blood was turning to ice.

A sudden snap kick to the solar plexus ended that feeling and she was sent tumbling backwards head over heels until she hit the raised platform the gardens rested in. She let her arms fall to her sides and groaned, her legs slung over the rail and brushing a cluster of leaves. The sound of boots approached and she looked up into the grey-green face of Azrael who crouched down and dropped a finger onto her forehead with a reprimanding poke. “You got lost in it again, that’s becoming a bad habit. Don’t forget a fight is something to be present in,” Azrael warned and flicked her nose. “Now get up, the twins are getting restless.”

She threw her arms back and pushed up off the ground, pulling her legs back and bracing herself against the guard rail of the garden before performing a quick twist and pushing off, landing on her feet. She threw her hands up in the air, “Ten points!” She laughed, dropping her hands to her hips as she caught Azrael’s bemused expression.

“What was that?” Azrael laughed.

She puffed up her lips, “Something mother always says when I do a flip,” Stella said, scratching at her ridged nose with a black-taloned finger.

“Uh-huh,” Azrael shook her head, “I’ll never understand your mother,” Azrael said and gestured to Stella’s sword on the ground with a raised eyebrow. She promptly turned away and marched over to the small picnic that had been set up alongside the wider pathway among the trees and plants. Mister Elat was sitting with the twins, Baris and Argun. The two small boys were sitting together, playing quietly with toys fashioned of wood. Baris was bigger than his brother, natural muscle already forming on his tiny frame while Argun was more slight and wiry like his mother. Stella pursed her lips, it was strange to think that she was barely older than they were.

She looked over into the reflective glass of the water column to her left, reaching up to run black chiton-armored fingers through her long silvery hair and looked down at her body which had begun to fill out a few months ago. Her eyes had apparently changed colors numerous times since she was a baby but had eventually settled into a molten gold much like her mother's, yellow with a faint red-orange glow behind them. She forced an awkward smile, revealing rows of jagged teeth that ended in shallow points. She ran her fingers over the top of her head to where she hid her antennae beneath her hair, they flipped out and she felt a shiver run up her spine as they picked up on the temperature in the room. The two thin stalks trembled a little which caused the tiny bulbs on the ends to wiggle. She shifted on her feet, the new boots still felt a little odd over her clawed toes. She wiggled all four of them to see if it felt a little better.

She ran her fingers over her waist, feeling the hard plates beneath her clothes, they extended from just beneath her breast all the way down to her waist before cutting off, protecting her vital organs. The thinner chiton that extended beyond there eventually faded into fair white skin. It was like that all over her body. The heavy plates joined by the more flexible material extending up her back and along her spine, down her thighs, and over her shins. It had taken time to figure out an easy way to get dressed in the morning and wearing a dress had been nothing but a nightmare the first time she’d tried. She looked back up at her face and traced a finger down the line of thin, flexible chiton that framed her jawline and ridged her nose.

“Stella?” Azrael called, “You going to eat or what?”

She blanched and stumbled over her feet, casting one last glance at her reflection before hustling over to the picnic blanket and tossing herself to the ground. Baris narrowed his eyes at Stella as she sat down across from them, his puffy cheeks forming into a frown. “You lost again.”

She snorted, “I’d like to see you beat someone as strong as your mom,” She grunted, nodding to Elat as he handed over a sandwich that she hurriedly bit into, savoring the flavor of the yellow paste that her mother had insisted was a delicacy where she came from.

“Lesson one,” Elat grunted with a sidelong glance at his son, “When talking to a pretty woman who’s stronger than you, open up the conversation respectfully.”

Azrael snorted and shook her head, grabbing a sandwich herself and passing it to Argun who was too involved in his toy to pay any attention to what was going on around him. Baris frowned harder and scrunched up his face, reaching up to pick at his tiny tusk that had just started growing out from beneath his lips. He turned to his father and tilted his head, “Are you stronger than mom?” Elat’s expression paled a little and he glanced over at Azrael who had gone very still and cleared his throat. The boy didn’t relent, “Because you’re always saying weird things to her and making her face turn red.”

Elat glanced at Stella who was suddenly much more interested in her sandwich than she had ever been before, the orc floundered until Azrael stepped in with a tap to her son’s nose. “I let him get away with it because I love him, and because he knows better than to say something stupid. Always be respectful, you’ll get more sugar with honey.”

Baris squinted, “Why are we talking bout sugar?”

Stella snorted out a laugh and set her food down before looking over at Azrael, “So how’d I do?”

“Better, but like I said, you’re too into it. You need to be present to make snap decisions,” She said carefully, “Took your mother two years to get that beaten into her and she had Yaga helping her as well.”

“Do you think I can keep up with her now?” Stella asked.

Azrael let out a breath, “I’ve never been surpassed by a student before until I met your mom. You’ll get there though, one day.”

Stella huffed and threw her arms around her knees, “I’ll be an old lady by then.”

“Didn’t Sari say that your aging was slowing down?” Elat asked, chewing on his own meal.

Stella rested her mouth against her arms and glanced at him, she sighed and squeezed her legs together, “Yeah, but I don’t want it to, not yet.”

Azrael glanced at Elat and smiled at him, “In such a rush to get older.”

Elat laughed, “Enjoy it! You could use with a few less training sessions a week anyway. Why don’t you go out for a ride sometime, get some air?”

Stella stiffened and glanced at Azrael who was smiling at her, it seemed like she agreed. Seriously? How could they not get it? She grunted and got to her feet, “I can’t just sit around and play all day!” She rumbled, and turned away, marching off the blanket and towards the door.

“Stella!” Azrael called after her, “What’s gotten into her?” She murmured to Elat.

She kept marching, her thoughts turning into a mess. It wasn’t fair, how could they not understand? She had to get stronger, she had to make herself useful she had to be present, to be seen, to be more than that. She needed to be relied on, someone her mother could trust. As she was, she was so weak that there was just nothing she could do to help her. They didn’t see how she looked when she came back to the residence in the Pinnacle. How tired she was. Stella might only be five years old but it was as if her entire life was just watching her mother grow more tired day after day.

She had just reached the door when it opened and one of the guards poked his head in, at her feet, Nephral strode inside with a basket in his mouth and his tail flicking left and right with self-amusement. Stella stopped and was about to greet Nephral when she felt a flash of pain rush up from the center of her chest. She gasped, her hands snapped up and gripped at her tunic as the pain spread from where it started to her head and over her arms and legs. She could hear voices, shouts, muffled sounds as the pain faded. She looked up from where she lay on the ground to see Nephral, Elat, and Azrael looking down at her.

Behind it all, another voice was calling out to her, a small voice but one she knew better than any.

“Mother is in pain,” Stella gasped, “My mom is in pain.”

Azrael looked up at Elat and he nodded, she sprang to her feet and raced out of the room, her body flickering before dropping into the floor. Stella pushed herself up to a sitting position as her strength came back in a rush. The pain fading almost as fast as it came. Elat tried to grab her arm but she pushed past him, practically scrambling on her hands and knees towards the door. “Stella, where are you going?” He shouted.

“I need to see my mom!” She barked back.

“Stella!” He shouted before cursing in orcish and looking down at Nephral who inclined his head and darted after Stella. Stella raced down the hall, around the central column and up the steps before practically slamming into the doors to the throne room. She threw the doors open and rushed inside, sliding to a stop as she caught sight of her mother.

“Mom?”