Star Wars: Daimon's Story-Chapter 57: A Daughter and the 100th Year Celebration

A/N: Here is an example of how a female Gen'Dai look. Also not all Gen'Dai are as beefy as Daimon. Some of the men aren't as bulky but they are still taller than your average human.

(Image Here)

------

------

Several months later

Imperial Year - 89 (6889BBY)

Daimon was sitting in the medical room next to Elara, holding her hand as she was in labor. They thought it would happen much later; estimations were that they still had several more weeks to go. But Daimon sensed that the time was now.

With more nurses and doctors than usual, they expected complications given how powerful of a Force user Daimon was alongside the Gen'Dai's ability to grow much faster when compared to other species. That wasn't the case as they could see Elara struggling to push as she gripped Daimon's hand, almost as if she were trying to crush it. She screamed through another wave of pain as doctors swarmed around her.

After a few minutes, that seemed like an eternity Elara finally gave birth. The room went silent as Daimon observed his first newborn child. A daughter. Powerful in both the Force and physical attributes, but far weaker than he or any of the other progenitors were. He knew how strong she would be in time since she had his blood, but most of all he was excited to raise his own daughter.

Compared to his last life, he has been living a life of luxury and doing what he wanted to do. Having a daughter or son was never something he had on his mind, but after taking Elara as a spouse, and then adding in the suggestions from the other Progenitors, it was something that was constantly on his mind.

The child cried out as they placed her in Elara's arms. "She's beautiful," Daimon said quietly. Elara smiled through tears, her exhaustion giving way to joy and fulfillment at holding their daughter. "She'll be strong," she said. "Strong enough to lead?" Daimon asked with a softness in his voice. "Yes," Elara stated without hesitation, "and wise enough not to seek it too soon." Their child stopped crying as if she recognized the voice of her mother and father. Her small eyes opened, already aware in a way that seemed impossible for a newborn.

"The whole galaxy will know her name," Daimon said. As he held her, feeling the Force surge through her tiny body.

"What should we call her?" Elara asked. "Luna," Daimon replied. Elara nodded, as she smiled at Luna.

Soon the news spread like wildfire: The God-Emperor had a daughter. Temples erupted in celebration, entire cities paused to celebrate, and after ages of waiting, the first child of the God-Emperor was born.

The months that followed saw unprecedented growth for the Imperium. Entire populations celebrated Luna's birth by pledging themselves to Daimon's order and vision more fervently than ever before.

For the next few years, Daimon spent almost every day with Luna. He never had a child before, so this was a first-time experience for him. Still with Elara's help and his experience training younger people during his time as a Jedi, he thought he had enough experience to raise his own child.

Imperial Year - 95

And while this was true, he wasn't prepared for what the early years had for him.

The next few years proved more trying than he imagined. Luna was a force unto herself, both literally and figuratively. As an infant, she learned to crawl at an impossible speed, often found in parts of the palace that baffled even her caretakers. At the age of two, she occasionally caused objects to tremble or float. Elara laughed, delighted at her daughter's actions and growth, while Daimon adapted to his role as a father with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

Raising a child with Luna's potential was as rewarding as it was challenging, and it pushed Daimon in ways he hadn't foreseen. She asked him questions about the stars and the Imperium. Her rapid growth and apparent understanding gave new meaning to the passage of time for Daimon.

The Imperium expanded more quickly than expected, but Luna's daily transformations were even more remarkable. By age five, Luna was grasping basic Force techniques with ease. She played games with her power, giggling as she levitated herself across rooms or lifted toys high into the air. Elara continued to guide her, teaching patience and balance, ensuring that Luna's formidable abilities did not come at the expense of her own character.

Daimon made sure that she would have a fun childhood and not one of seclusion because of her status. She would go to school with other children and make friends her age while also getting personal lessons from Daimon himself. Despite being 6 years old, she had the maturity of a 10-year-old as her unique bloodline accelerated her physical and mental development.

Being Daimon' s daughter, her capabilities were much higher than those of the other Gen'Dai causing her to excel in her learning. And thanks to Daimon's establishment of a Gen'Dai culture, she was still able to make friends with others no matter how smart she was or what her status was.

Luna had already begun understanding the dual weight of legacy and individuality. She asked questions others feared to speak aloud: "Why do people kneel when they see me?" or "If I'm strong, does that mean I have to lead?" Daimon never gave her easy answers. Elara would remind him afterward, "She doesn't need your wisdom all at once. She needs your presence." So, he gave her that.

Her mornings were structured: early meditation, martial forms training, language lessons, and Force control exercises. But her afternoons were often hers to whatever she wanted. Some days she explored the Imperial gardens, sketching the strange beasts that Daimon kept in the bio-domes from worlds across the Imperium. Other days she spent in the city with her friends, disguised, escorted by her personal guard at a distance. She wanted to experience the Imperium not as a symbol, but as a person.

At age seven, she won a debate tournament against students twice her age. The subject had been: "Power must be feared to be respected." Her rebuttal, crafted with insight and simplicity, was quoted across Imperial academies: "Fear doesn't grow loyalty. It grows silence. And silence hides knives." Daimon read the transcript three times that night proud of how his daughter was shaping out to be.

At eight, she broke her arm falling from a cliffside during a hike. Her Force abilities couldn't catch her fast enough. Elara stayed with her in the medical pod for the full twelve hours. "You're not invincible," she told Luna softly. "And you don't have to be."

The injury humbled her. From then on, Luna trained harder, but not out of arrogance. She sought mastery so that she would never again underestimate a challenge. Daimon saw the change. He didn't praise her for her resolve, he simply began pushing her further, knowing she could take it.

By ten, Luna had started writing. Her short pieces, usually only a few pages long, explored themes that disturbed her: injustice, duty, and isolation. One story followed a girl who could hear the thoughts of an entire planet but chose to go silent to avoid the pain. Another centered on a child general who won every war but lost her own sense of self.

At eleven, Luna witnessed her first real battle, not from a screen, but from the deck of a command ship. A small system on the edge of the Imperium had resisted integration. Daimon brought Luna, not as a lesson in brutality, but to show her the decisions leadership demanded.

She stood at the viewport as the skirmish below unfolded. Hundreds of lives lost in minutes. When the fleet returned, Luna asked her father only one question: "Do we build after we destroy?"

"Yes," Daimon replied. "Or we're no better than the ones we conquered."

———

During her 11th year, Luna saw the biggest celebration ever. The Imperial Calendar had reached its 100th year marking the end of the first century and the start of another. A large celebration was thrown celebrating this accomplishment.

Veldari had never been brighter. Entire districts were illuminated with banners, streets filled with the sound of choirs, orchestras, and the roaring cheers of billions. Holograms of the God-Emperor's emblem shimmered in the skies above cities, and a hundred-star systems joined together in a single grand celebration: the Imperium's hundredth year.

It wasn't just a festival. It was a statement, one that told every world, that Daimon's empire had not only survived a century, but had thrived. For many, the celebration was the apex of unity.

Luna, just eleven years old, stood on the central balcony of the Imperial Citadel overlooking the Grand Plaza. She wore ceremonial Gen'Dai robes tailored for her, black with streaks of silver thread.

This chapter is updated by freēwēbnovel.com.

Behind her, in the massive Hall, thousands of dignitaries gathered for the central event. Planetary governors, fleet admirals, religious leaders, and more were all here. Every corridor showed projections of the Imperium's growth, its victories, its technology, and most importantly, its people. But Luna's eyes weren't on history as she knew it.

They were on the crowd below. Ordinary people. Citizens. The ones who truly gave the Imperium it's power, not through war or policy, but belief. That realization had settled on her more heavily since the battle she witnessed. And now, amid all this fanfare, she felt its weight.

A soft sound rang through the air. Then, a massive hologram of Daimon appeared in the sky, visible from orbit to the streets.

He stepped forward and raised his hand.

"My people," his voice echoed across the many worlds of the Imperium, "a hundred years ago, the Gen'Dai were led astray, vulnerable, preyed upon by decay and the lies warlords. But we rose. Together. And today, we celebrate not a throne, not a man, but us. The Imperium lives because its people believe." Thunderous applause erupted.

"But this celebration is not just a reflection of the past. It is a fire lit for the future. And in that future, we are not alone."

He turned to Luna, who now stepped forward, just behind him. The cameras shifted. Billions watched her young face, calm and composed.

"This is my daughter, Luna," Daimon continued. "Born not into rule, but into purpose. Trained not for obedience, but for understanding. She has seen what power costs and still chooses to walk its path. One day, she will be one of the leaders of the Imperium and will help me continue leading you into the future."

Luna didn't say anything and just bowed her head to the crowd which caused them to burst into even more cheers.

After the speech, the world partied. Fireworks from orbit painted the skies, star cruisers flew in formations, and temples from every corner of the Imperium held prayers, chants, and light rituals. Across ten thousand cities, images of Daimon and Luna were projected, side by side, father and daughter.

-------

Current Imperial Year: 100 (6878 BBY)

Daimon Age: 172

Imperium's Population: 25 Billion