Sundari was a shining city. It's tall buildings, made of stone and glass, glimmered under the translucent bio-dome that kept the city safe from the encroaching desert that had overwhelmed most of the planet. The once thriving planet of green and blue had turned to a brown place of dust and sand. Of course, there was no one to blame for the limited vegetation except for the Mandalorians themselves, not that the traditionalists would hear of such things. However, most of them were believed to have long died off on the moons of Concordia.

Still, Sundari shone brightly, a beacon to the system and the planet, a new capital for a new way of life. Mandalore, once the place of war, was now a prosperous place of peace, thanks to the efforts of its new Ruler, Duchess Satine Kryze, and the rest of the Mandalorian ruling council. They were members of the New Mandalorians, and they were well on their way to building a new way of life amongst the people.

Amari Flare quietly admired the Duchess and her decisions, appreciating that due to her new laws, the schools had to allow Indaria to attend, and Flickr, the new owner of the Redhouse, couldn't keep the child around to clean the rooms under the new labor laws. However, she wisely kept her approval quiet, as the Duchess was less popular in the greedier parts of the city, including the neighborhood the Red House was in.

The difference between the Low District and the rest of Sundari was extreme. Most of the architecture of Sundari was traditional Mandalore, using glass and beskar to reflect every possible surface and stone to provide a foundation, the city was beautiful. Until you got to the Low District.

While the surfaces in the High District of Sundari were reflective and bright, the buildings of lower Sundari were opaque. Nary a reflective surface could be found on those streets, for the inhabitants did not want their goings-on to be revealed. Built more with wood and stone than anything else, the worn-down buildings were all that remained of the original city after the civil wars ravaged it to pieces. The area felt as if the glamorous city that most of the Sundarians lived in had built itself on top of the bones of the old one. The people who lived in the Low district were the poor and the criminal. They were the pieces of society that one didn't want to see, for it was better that they not exist in the first place.

Despite the new ideas that had gained traction, traditionalist views permeated the population. Despite their reputation for violence and bloodshed, the Mandalorians were a rather conservative bunch and wary of change, and a lot was changing. It was in the Low District where they fought the hardest to maintain their way of life. Superstitions were still prevalent, and one of the biggest oral traditions that had been passed down in the Low District was to never deal with a Flare outside of the Red House.

The curse of the Flare Clan was well known. Amari had tried to hide that from her daughter as long as possible. She wanted Indaria to grow up without that burden, without that label, as long as possible. Of course, going to school meant that by five, Indaria was out of her mother's protective sphere, and children were wont to repeat things their parents said. It would surprise none to learn that at the sight of Amari walking her daughter to the first day of school, tongues were wagging.

"Landuur," An older woman with dark hair pulled back severely from her face sneered at the young mother.

Before this, Amari had been gently fussing over Indaria, straightening her clothes and ensuring she had her student card so that she could receive lunch, but then, that word cut through the almost cheerful atmosphere and sent a frozen hush over the gathered parents. Amari's hands had frozen at Indaria's collar, her face draining of color and lips pinching together in irritation.

Breaths were held, waiting for the fight to begin. Mando'a was an extensive language and it possessed, perhaps, the most insults out of any other language in known galaxies. However, there were a few insults that, if said, would always result in a fight, and landuur was one of them. To fight was to be Mandalorian. Sure, they might have put on the vestige of a peaceful society, but one generation of peacekeepers could not change the foundation of an entire creed of people.

But, Amari Flare, like the rest of her clan, had long ago been broken of her pride. No longer did she fight at the provocation of another. Once, as a girl, she'd fought others who dared to insult her so, and she'd learned quickly, that she would be ganged up on. For, there was no honor in fighting her, therefore, her opponents would not be bound to deal with her honorably. So, instead of responding like any other Mandalorian woman, she pretended as if the word hadn't been said at all. Unfortunately, this only confirmed to the others that the Flare Clan really was other.

That's what they'd called her mother. Not a prostitute or a whore, for that wasn't Amari's sin in the sight of Mandalore. No. She was a landuur. A bad mother. A woman who was too soft. A woman who didn't raise proper Mandalorian children. Indaria, hearing the word not for the first time, and instantly knowing what it meant, had wished to fight for her mother.

Amari, took a deep breath and looked her daughter directly in her eyes. She revealed not even the slightest bit of anger, despite the insult. She even managed another smile for Indaria, hoping to calm the girl down, even as she saw the child's hands clench into fists at her sides and her cheeks flush red in anger.

"Ignore them, Indaria. Ner mirdala ad their words are neither wise nor will they bring them wisdom. You will go to this school, and you will learn. You will show them the error of their thinking, yes?" Amari was very careful in her words.

The heart of Mandalore was alive in her child, and Indaria burned with a fire that had never existed in Amari, nor in her mother. But Amari was wise and warned her child against such instincts. As much as Indaria's very soul rebelled at the injustice of such a grievous insult, she couldn't fight. Not for Amari.

The insults did not disappear when Amari went home, but Indaria was able to follow her mother's instructions for the most part. Of course, they'd used the typical insults on Indaria at first. Bastard. Dirty. Those words Indaria could handle, for they meant nothing. They were just words. Mothers and fathers were quick to use such vocabulary to describe the girl. These were words that their children, ignorant of their meaning, repeated when the girl tried to introduce herself. They were the reasons that they gave her when she was left out of games or not offered a seat beside them at mealtimes. But truly, they were just words.

Indaria did not cry when children called her such names. Her mother might have tried to protect Indaria from the realities of The Red House, but the girl was smart, and she watched. She understood what her mother did with men for money, and she had slowly learned that others looked down upon her for it. Although she hated what her Mother did, Indaria understood that it provided them food and a place to live. It was what Amari did to take care of them. To Indaria, Amari Flare was the greatest woman in the world. Therefore, if they were trying to make her ashamed of her mother, they would not succeed.

But then the children called her cursed. They whispered of a deeper shame, a shame of the Flare Clan that was passed down from generation to generation of Flares. More specifically and perhaps worst of all, was the word that had imploded Indaria's world completely.

Dar'manda.

They'd called her dar'manda. It was, without hesitation, the worst insult one could give a Mandalorian. For, in the end, Indaria's worst crime wasn't being born to a prostitute, but it was being born of the Flare Clan. A Clan who had been branded traitors. Cowards in war. The worst of the worst. To be dar'manda is to be "not Mandalorian". It meant that Indaria had lost her heritage, her very sense of self, and thus her soul.

Indaria couldn't control her reaction. She'd glared harshly at the little girl and opened her mouth, likely to get herself in trouble, when it happened.

It wasn't the first time that Indaria had made inexplicable things happen with her mind, but it was the first time she'd been completely unable to control it. A boy had been passing by with his lunch tray right behind the awful girl when the tray flew up out of his hand and landed on her head.

Teachers had blamed the boy, who'd looked just as startled as the girl was.

But Indaria knew the truth. She'd made the tray move. She wanted to be sorry. She really wanted to be sorry, for she knew that she hadn't done what her mother had instructed. But she couldn't bring herself to regret it.

Indaria Flare was a Mandalorian, and she did not understand why this little girl thought that she wasn't.

It was after that first day of school that Indaria disclosed this question to Amari, and it was then that the mother told Indaria the story of Clan Flare. The little girl was ready for bed, sleeping in Amari's cot in the big room with the other children as Amari would spend her evening with clients. The young mother hated having to leave her daughter alone to sleep, but she had no other choice on nights she had work. She shuddered at the reminder that she'd get in, have a half hour to sleep, and then she'd have to wake up with Indaria and send her off to school again the next morning.

Still, Amari wasn't about to lose any time she had with her child. Before school, she'd been able to crawl into their cot and cuddle her daughter in the mornings. Then, Indaria would help her with her beauty treatments and on days that she finished her household chores early, they could catch a lift to the High District and walk in the park. Now, their time together was so precious, and so Amari ensured that her daughter was dressed and bathed for the next morning. She'd taken the time to brush and deftly braid the child's long brown hair that matched her own.

Indaria basked under her mother's careful attention. Amari's hands had to be soft for her work and she often tied serum-soaked cloths to them while she slept during the mornings to keep them that way. This is how Indaria often fell asleep, to her mother's soft strokes on her head, buried into her side. There were so few peaceful moments in the universe, and Indaria knew that Amari fought to carve out their little bit of peace. She cherished this time, not knowing how fleeting it would be.

And so, after one of the longest days of her short life, Indaria listened as her mother recited the story of their purported betrayal, their breaking of the tenets of war, and how that had led to supposed cowardice. Indaria smiled at the descriptions of grandeur and honor and frowned at the tale of supposed deception of Clan Vizsla. She cried for Cyiana who first came to the bordello after losing her family. Amari told the story to her child, word for word as it had been told to her years ago. She ended the story, however, in a different way that her own mother had. While Amari's mother had ended her story in despair, Amari ended hers in hope, even though it ended in the same way.

"And then, into the universe, you were born. The next generation of the Flare Clan." Elena, Amari's mother, had used those exact words, but she'd recited them like the despairing burden they had been.

"And I will be cursed too," Indaria spoke slowly, her young, high-pitched voice sounding as serious as possible, far too serious for a child of five. "And I will have a daughter, and she too, will be cursed."

"No," Amari shook her head. "Want to know why?"

"Why?" Indaria asked, trusting her mother with everything she had in her little heart. Indaria knew that she couldn't trust many people in the universe, but she could trust her mother. Amari was never wrong.

"Because you are special. You were born, and the Universe chose you for something great, and that...that will end the curse. I know it, my ad'ika."

"I'll break the curse," Indaria said resolutely, and then she turned back to her mother, smiling up at her.

Indaria had no idea that while it would be years before she was convinced the curse was indeed, completely broken, or that in less than a year, she'd have a different fate than any Flare had ever previously dared to imagine.

Although she might have, if she'd given any more thought to her dreams of colorful lights, pod races in giant canyons, and eyes that she imagined might have been the color of the sea. 

***********

This was where Indaria Flare grew up, and despite her struggles she adapted. She thrived. She grew quickly, not only in skill, but in mind and body.

Quickly, Indaria learned that her main problem was attention. It was much easier for her to get throughout her day when others didn't pay attention to her, whether that be the children at school or the mistress of The Red House. Although she was just six years old, Indaria understood that when she came to be of a certain age, men's eyes would follow her as they did her mother.

Although she couldn't change her natural appearance, the cursed beauty of Flare women, she'd learned tricks to minimize her appearance. The severest of hairstyles and the most diminutive of clothes. If she tried really hard, she could make them stop staring at her. Like she'd made the men who visited her mother stop staring at her. Like she'd avoided eyes on the streets of the Low District. She could hide. She could make herself so small and insignificant that none would realize she was there. She could fade into the shadows and into the background, a phantom vapor in the atmosphere. She could watch the people around her and she could learn.

And so, she did.

But that wasn't all. While the shadows were often the quickest escape, they didn't always offer her the best view.

No. For that, she took to the roofs.

It had started innocently enough. She'd been chased into an alleyway by a group of boys in the Low District on an afternoon where her mother was unable to come and walk her back to their home. She'd been ready to fight when she'd thought it was just two boys picking on her, but when they'd been joined by two more of their friends, she'd run.

She'd run fast. She'd used the energy that she always seemed to find in the universe and she'd used it to push her forward, faster, when her little legs threatened to give out. Then, somehow, she'd ended up in an empty alley, surrounded by walls with no windows and no other way out. Desperate, Indaria had looked up, and there she saw, perched on the very edge of the building, was a bird.

Stunned, for such a creature was a rare sight in the domed city, Indaria was momentarily dazed in amazement. However, shouts behind her indicated that her pursuers were coming, and they were angry at her for escaping.

If I could get up there, I'd be safe. Indaria thought. If I could just use all of my strength and jump to the roof, they'd never find me up there.

Despite not thinking for a moment that such an endeavor could work, Indaria jumped. The poor girl was beyond startled to find out that she was able to jump that high. On her first try, Indaria had jumped nearly to the ledge where the bird perched, and she let out a startled gasp before falling back to the ground again. Unprepared, she landed harder than she'd intended and fell straight back on her bum.

Certain she'd have a bruise later, but more worried about surviving to later, Indaria backed up about ten feet. Then, just as she was sure the boys were going to turn into the alley to find her, she ran forward a few steps for momentum, and focusing on that energy she felt in the universe, used it to propel her forward and up.

Right to the rooftop.

The six-year-old smiled to herself, amazed at her feat of adventure, and relieved when she heard the group of boys come into the alleyway and leave again. They hadn't found her. She'd escaped them.

And she'd flown.

Indaria cautiously peaked her head over the roof and stared wide eyed at the view of the city. From up there, she could see all of the Low District and even some of the High District. The girl glanced over to the bird, who seemed to take her in cautiously, before it gave her what she thought was a nod, and flew away.

That was how it felt, Indaria thought. It was like I was a bird, and I was flying.

She desperately wanted to do that again. To feel that way again. But she knew that she couldn't let others know. For one, her mother was sure to disapprove of her walking on other people's roofs, and for another, not everyone could jump the way she could. Not everyone could fly.

Her ability, she knew, made her different, and if she were different, then she could no longer remain safe in her world of shadows. So, like many things, this would need to remain a secret. For it to remain a secret, she'd have to learn to control it so that she wouldn't get caught.

It wasn't long, however, before Indaria was a master of control. She could control her emotions, able to ignore all of the snide remarks about herself and her mother that others would gibe at her. She could control her actions. She could walk as light as a feather across any surface so that her footsteps would be undetectable. She could hardly stomp across the rooftops of the city without drawing attention to herself. Indaria could run and jump from one great height and distance to another, completely aware of the space around her, and not exerting herself. All of this she did with the energy she felt around her. Energy that no one, not even her mom, seemed to be aware existed.

At night, while her mother was with clients, Indaria would sneak out from her bed and slither through the shadows of the halls. She'd disappear into the walls, leaving not even a squeak of a floorboard in her wake, until she made it out of The Red House. Then, she'd check again that none were watching and she'd find a safe place to get to the roof. Then, her nightly adventure would begin.

She'd only be out a few hours, finding peace in the darkness under the stars. She'd jump from rooftop to rooftop, running off all of the frustration that had built up during the day. She did this for months with not one incident. Each day, she'd end up farther and farther away from home before she'd give in and return home.

It was at dawn, the tail end of Indaria's longest adventure yet, when she was a long way from the Low District, that her story truly began. Her fate becoming intrinsically entwined with not only the leader of Mandalore, but also with an order of people that Mandalorians had long believed to be their enemies. 

Hello Lovely People! I'm so excited to start this! I've already plotted in detail the first sixteen chapters and Indaria is by far one of my favorite characters I've created. Please Read! Comment! Vote! Add to your Reading Lists! I want to hear your thoughts.

I put a lot of work into getting into the Mandalorian mindset and hopefully I've managed it. That being said, some heavy insults were thrown about, but those were hopefully well enough defined in the text so as not to need additional translation. As for other lines: 

Ner mirdala ad.............. My Clever Girl 

ad'ika....... daughter