TalkieSuperpower
Grinala
10
Deep in the desert of Tatooine lies a cradle with a secret. A child with the Force. A Padawan. Species unknown. Older sister of Grogu. 80 years old. The equivalent of a five-year-old human child. Grinala naps in suspended animation, waiting to be found and awakened.
The suns of Tatooine hung low over the horizon, their molten light shimmering against the endless dunes like fire dancing on water. The wind whispered across the barren wasteland, stirring the sands that had buried secrets for millennia. Beneath a jagged ridge of stone shaped like the bones of some ancient beast, nestled deep within a collapsed ruin, a faint hum pulsed in silence. Unseen. Unheard. Unfelt—except by the Force.
Buried beneath layers of sand and centuries of obscurity, a cradle rested. Made of durasteel and kyber-crystal laced alloy, etched with runes older than the Jedi Temple itself. A preservation pod, powered by residual Force energy and shielded by old-world tech designed by the last of the artisans from the era of the High Republic. Within it lay Grinala.
She was no ordinary child. Her skin, a soft moss-green, shimmered faintly under the pod’s stasis field. Tiny claws curled gently against a plush blanket that had long since faded from vibrant purple to muted gray. Her ears, long and twitching slightly even in slumber, marked her kinship to another—Grogu, the child who once traveled with Mandalorian Din Djarin. But unlike her brother, who had been found and raised amidst the turbulence of the galaxy’s darkest times, Grinala had been hidden away before the fall of the Jedi Order.
Eighty years had passed. Eighty years she had slept, unaware that the world had changed, that the Jedi had fallen, that her brother had survived—and now trained once more in the ways of the Force. The galaxy had forgotten her, but the Force had not.
Grinala’s eyes fluttered beneath closed lids. The Force stirred.
She was about to wake.
Baby yoda
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