Kyra's Salvation

Kyra's Salvation

Author: Jewel

Date: 19/1/2012

Word count: 326

 

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction intended for entertainment only. No money is being made and the author makes no claim to copyrighted material. The Chronicles of Riddick is owned by Universal.
 

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Hero worship drove Kyra Jacks to shape herself into a female Riddick. Lacking his sheer size and mass, instead of bear-like strength she is feline – graceful, agile, acrobatic and flexible, and incredibly swift with any of her arsenal of hidden blades.

She is stubborn, cunning, and vicious, and apparently completely lacking in any sort of empathy. In other words, very much like Riddick. But seeing him again in the bowels of Crematoria – knowing he had come for her – something sparks to life once again in her heart. It is not love, not really: It is perhaps better described as faith.

With some of the issues between them resolved – or at least shelved for convenience's sake – the pair escape the prison of Crematoria, reaching the tiny hangar just ahead of the sunrise and together they battle the Necromongers waiting there for them.

Kyra is overwhelmed and dragged off. Her last sight of Riddick is of the man apparently surrendering to the foe. She hides the smirk that tugs at her lips: Faith: The enemy don't know what's about to hit them.

She is transported back to Helion Prime and dumped in amongst the terrified herd of human sheep awaiting Conversion.

There is no escape from here; too many guards for one thing. But she can delay her selection for Conversion by simply utilising her stealthy skills so that she is overlooked for as long as possible. Sooner or later the guards will be distracted from their duty and drawn to deal with some other thing.

She has faith and an almost terrible knowledge: Riddick will come for her; whether for her sake or simply because she was taken from him does not matter. And when he does come, Necromonger blood will flow.

This faith, this certainty in what lies ahead calms her and Kyra settles into concealment unconcerned by the bleating terror of the sheep who camouflage her, waiting patiently for the moment when escape is possible.