Chapter Text
She feels the blood before anything else.
Her mind is fuzzy, her body weak, but the scent of copper and the wet warmness on her face anchor her. She looks down at her hands. Even through the blur that is her vision, she can see the red. A low groan startles her, sends her twisting around and into dizziness because of it. It takes another weak, achy noise until she realizes that she is the one whimpering.
She wheezes. It hurts.
Where am I?
The floor is cold. Metal. She is sitting, back up against a wall. She presses her palms to the ground in an attempt to soothe the overwhelming, inescapable heat. She feels too large for her skin.
I’m dreaming.
“Dreaming,” she rasps out shakily. “That’s right.”
Her voice sounds wrong. Weak. She wheezes again and feels something shift in her chest. It hurts too much to be a dream. She forces her eyes closed. Tries to breathe. It still hurts. Her harsh, labored breaths fill the silence. It sounds too much like—
Vader.
She flinches.
I need to leave.
She braces, then pushes herself up until she is standing.
“I am strong,” she says, back still against the wall. “I am alive.”
The world tilts beneath her feet as she does her best to block out the sounds of her painful gasps. Her body screams in protest with each step she takes forward.
I am strong.
She stumbles forward, guided by a strange sense of knowing. One foot, then the other. Again and again. One hand stays on the wall, smearing blood onto the metal as she continues. She doesn’t know where she is going. She only knows that she cannot stay in this place.
Forward.
Her vision is clearing up, but after she makes out the first crumpled figure, she almost wishes it wasn’t. The metal wall is still cool and grounding under her palm.
I am alive .
She can see doors in front of her. She knows they lead to freedom. And so she continues, limping and shuffling on weak legs, until she reaches the end of the corridor. Her fingers feel foreign as she fumbles for the switch, leaving streaks of blood—darker, now—all over the control panel. The doors hiss open, revealing a hanger and rows of pods. The feeling in her stomach gives a hum of rightness.
She continues forward to the closest pod, body obeying some strange commands that she is not aware of. The hatch slides open and she jolts forward with a desperation that is slowly emerging from within her muddled thoughts.
Yes, she thinks, lowering herself into the seat. I am alive.
When she regains consciousness, the pod is in space despite the fact that she has no memory of pressing any buttons. Her breaths come in sharp, tired gasps as she stares out at the dark expanse of nothingness. It is overwhelming. Still, the buzzing in her head has quieted, and her thoughts come far less sluggishly.
“Alright,” she says experimentally, feeling her throat. Her fingers touch bruises, and she winces. “Okay.”
She holds her hands out in front of her and flexes her fingers. Her hands are smeared with blood and grime, but there is no pain when she moves them. As she rotates her wrists slowly, her eyes catch upon a dark smudge. She wipes the blood away to reveal black symbols inked into the hollow of her right wrist.
Her breath hitches. F-1412.
“What is this?” she whispers, rubbing at them. They don’t move. “I—”
A sharp pain lances through her head. Subject F-1412 , she hears. It echoes and echoes, and she can’t help but let out a gasp as she screws her eyes shut. Ready for testing. There’s a flash of white. A room? A ceiling? She can’t tell. She blinks rapidly, trying to will the white light away. It doesn’t work. She doesn’t know how long she stays hunched over, head in her hands, as the symbols on her wrist ring in her head.
When she finally returns to herself, she is unsteady.
“I’m alright,” she forces out. “I’m not there anymore. I’m here, safe. I’m not a subject. I’m—”
She stops. Tries again. “My name is—”
Her breaths are coming fast again, and she forces herself to settle. “I know my name,” she says, almost desperate. “I know who I am.”
But she doesn’t. Her mind is blank, and it hurts to think too deeply. She can see faces and hear names, but every time she reaches for them, they slip away like smoke. Finally, she manages to cling to a boy’s face. He looks young, with dark hair and warm brown eyes. Zare, she hears.
“Zare,” she repeats. “Okay.”
She says it again. The name feels impossibly familiar on her tongue, and in her memories, his eyes are impossibly kind. A warm feeling settles in her stomach. “Zare,” she whispers. “I know you.”
It feels like a lifeline. She closes her eyes to bask in the familiarity. As she does, another fragment of a memory comes to her. She is walking with Zare. His mouth moves, shaping words that she cannot hear. They continue to walk, and she begins to make out what Zare is saying.
“You’re a good sister,” he says. The words don’t quite match his moving mouth, but she doesn’t care. He is her brother. She has a brother.
The memory begins to darken and crack. “No!” she cries out, helpless. Zare’s face blurs and warps. He is saying something again, and she strains to hear it.
“I’ll miss you,” he says, words unwieldy in her ears, “Dhara.”
Dhara.
The name hits her with a heavy, gutwrenching feeling of rightness. Her pulse has picked up again, blood pounding in her ears.
“My name is Dhara,” she whispers. “I am Dhara.”
She—Dhara—begins to laugh, giddiness rising in her chest. “Dhara. I’m Dhara. I have a brother. His name is Zare. His name is Zare, and my name is Dhara.”
Still half laughing, she leans her head back to soak in the triumph that surrounds her. The pod is no longer cold. It feels alive. And then she notices it—a blinking red light in the center of the pod’s interface. It hadn’t been there before.
No longer laughing, she leans forward to examine it. A soft, neutral voice follows half a beat later.
“Approaching planetary atmosphere. Prepare for impact.”
Impact.
She jolts into action, fumbling for the restraints. The giddiness has fully given way to adrenaline. Her fingers are still shaky, but she manages to strap herself in. Once situated, she glances over at the viewport where an unfamiliar planet looms large. The rising panic in her stomach is mixed with a strange feeling of certainty. You are meant to be here, it seems to say. This is your path.
And so she tightens the straps again, exhaling.
“My name is Dhara,” she says aloud. The pod begins to shake. “I am Dhara.”
She will not allow herself to forget.