#amara has to be a sith it’s only right

[boxdstars]

can’t believe i never posted sith inquisitior amara for the 4th, shame on me

[rebelsofshield]

Star Wars The Empire Strikes Back: From a Certain Point of View-Review

2017′s From a Certain Point of View was the sort of risk taking, unique little Star Wars book that quickly earned a special place in the hearts of fans and readers. While The Empire Strikes Back follow up may not quite reach the creative heights of its predecessor, it still makes for a eclectic, often mesmerizing read that pays homage to one of the best Star Wars movies ever made.

The premise to From a Certain Point of View is a simple, but ambitious one. Gather forty authors to tell forty self contained Star Wars stories that when stitched together convey the entirety of the plot of a given movie. It’s a creative way of paying tribute to the storytelling legacy of these iconic films while also mining their narrative nooks and crannies for the original tales hiding in the shadows. Like last time, Lucasfilm Publishing has gathered many of their mainstay writers like Delilah S. Dawson, Jason Fry, Charles Soule, Christie Golden, Daniel Jose Older, and Alexander Freed, but alongside are all manner of genre fiction heavy hitters such as Martha Wells, Catherynne M. Valente, and Hank Green. It allows for a wide variety of voices to take a swing at an iconic story and bring different stylistic flourishes to this universe.

As would be expected from an anthology, the stories in this installment of From a Certain Point of View run a tonal, thematic, and quality gamut. Many experiment with form and concept while others are perfectly content to tell well realized, if familiar Star Wars stories. Jason Fry, for example, spins a tight, exciting, and emotionally engaging Wedge Antilles story that is sure to please fans of the character and of the classic X-Wing novel series. Michael Kogge’s Bossk story, “Tooth and Claw,” is a brutal and affecting narrative of prejudice and interspecies conflict that feels like a natural culmination point for the character.

There are others that experiment with style and point of view. From a Certain Point of View provides stories told from the minds of tauntauns, wampas, ship computers, space slugs, and even the Force cave on Dagobah. While not all of these prove as exciting as others, taking a step into these riskier and more bizarre narratives is part of the treat of this collection and when they work, they really work. Somehow Catherynne M. Valente’s space slug piece ends up being the most emotionally affecting story of the entire collection. Other experimental stories include Charles Yu’s “Kendal” which takes a page from Tobias Wolff’s iconic “Bullet in the Brain” to explore the final moments of consciousness of the ill-fated Imperial Admiral Ozzel.

Those looking for insights on familiar characters will find themselves best served by Jim Zub’s “First Lesson,” Mike Chen’s “Disturbance,” and Mackenzie Lee’s “There is Always Another” which focus on Yoda, Darth Sidious, and Obi-Wan Kenobi respectively. However, some of the most rewarding stories are those that create a world hiding in the margins of Star Wars. Hank Green’s “A Naturalist on Hoth” imagines the careers of Rebellion ecologists and the complicated roles they must take in the support of the Alliance’s warfront. Django Wexler’s highly amusing and even romantic “Amara Kel’s Rules for TIE Pilot Survival (Probably)” adds needed empathy to the hapless pilots of the Empire. S.A. Chakraborty mines both humor and unexpected drama out of the poor cook assigned to prepare a meal for a certain Dark Lord of the Sith. And perhaps most welcome of all, Brittany N. Williams gives us the L3-37 follow up we’ve all been waiting for in the gratifying and tragic “Faith in an Old Friend.”

There is also one story in here that transcends the function all together and becomes a genuinely stirring and unsettling science fiction narrative of its own. Seth Dickinson’s “The Final Order,” which follows the final commands of an Imperial admiral before being crushed to death by an asteroid, is an incredibly realized narrative of a man who has spent his life willed and shaped by the forces of fascism and now stands unable to escape it. It’s an unflinching look at the harm of an organization like the Empire while creating an understanding, if not sympathy, for the men and women caught up in its wake. It’s a standout story by any regard and easily one of the best pieces of Star Wars prose that has been released in recent years.

There are, of course, other installments that aren’t as successful. The lone comic installment, Katie Cook’s “The Dragonsnake Saves R2″ is cute, but also hard to follow and too short to make much of an impression. “A Good Kiss” and “Heroes of the Rebellion” tell stories that cover similar ground and in too quick a fashion to create distinct identities for themselves. Karen Strong’s “Into the Clouds” tells the story of a wannabe bounty hunter that experiences a change of heart that feels too simplistic and easily charted to reach the earnest emotional beat that is searched for at the end. None are bad, but there are quite a few stories in this forty installment stack that simply don’t reach the mark that they are shooting for.

One oddly unexpected problem occurs in that much of the first and second halves of the collection tend to blur together and read strikingly similarly. It only makes sense that given their vibrant settings and dozens of intriguing periphery characters that Hoth and Bespin would command large portions of this book’s page length. However, given that The Empire Strikes Back has both of these settings evacuate under threat of the Empire, a wide number of stories end up following different characters in scrambles for safety and escape before disaster. It would normally make for thrilling content, but after reading four stories in a row of rebels escaping Echo Base, the film’s middle act feels like a welcome reprieve, only to do a repeat in the final third in Cloud City. It’s a minor complaint, but it takes away much of the always fresh feeling of discovery that makes these collections their most enjoyable.

As a whole, this latest From A Certain Point of View collection is still worth your time. Those looking for something different mixed with something familiar will get a lot out of this collection that spans a wide breadth of Star Wars iconography. Also, given that this project, like its predecessor, was designed as a charity object for “First Book,” an organization that provides reading material to under served communities, its a project that has great intentions and, hopefully, impact as well.

Finally, since I just can’t get enough lists. Here are the forty stories of this From A Certain Point of View ranked:

40. “The Dragonsnake Saves R2″ by Katie Cook 39. “Into the Clouds” by Karen Strong 38. “Heroes of the Rebellion” by Amy Ratcliffe 37. “Beyond Hope” by Michael Moreci 36. “A Good Kiss” by C.B. LEe 35. “Beyond the Clouds” by Lilliam Rivera 34. “The Backup Backup Plan” by Anne Tool 33. “For the Last Time” by Beth Revis 32. “Standard Imperial Procedure” by Sarwat Chadda 31. “Due on Batuu” by Rob Hart 30.  “Bespin Escape” by Martha Wells 29. “Lord Vader Will See You Now” by John Jackson Miller 28. “Fake It Till You Make It” by Cavan Scott 27. “The Man Who Built Cloud City” by Alexander Freed 26. “The Whills Strike Back” by Tom Angleberger 25. “Eyes of the Empire” by Kiersten White 24. “The Truest Duty” by Christie Golden 23. “The Witness” by Adam Christopher 22. “STET!” by Daniel Jose Older 21. “Ion Control” by Emily Skrutskie 20. “No Time for Poetry” by Austin Walker 19. “Vergence” by Tracy Deonn 18. “Wait for It” by Zoraida Cordova 17. “The First Lesson” by Jim Zub 16. “Right Hand Man” by Lydia Kang 15. “She Will Keep Them Warm” by Delilah S. Dawson 14. “Disturbance” by Mike Chen 13. “Hunger” by Mark Oshiro 12. “Rogue Two” by Gary Whitta 11. “This is No Cave” by Catherynne M. Valente 10. “But What Does He Eat” by S.A. Chakraborty 9. “Against All Odds” by R.F. Kuang 8. “There is Always Another” by Mackenzie Lee 7. “Tooth and Claw” by Michael Kogge 6. “Amara Kel’s Rules for TIE Pilot Survival (Probably)” by Django Wexley 5. “Faith in an Old Friend” by Brittany N. Williams 4. “A Naturalist on Hoth” by Hank Green 3. “Kendal” by Charles Yu 2. “Rendezvous Point” by Jason Fry 1. “The Final Order” by Seth Dickinson

Score: B+

[crqstalite]

character questions.

tagged by the lovely @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond! for my canon commander shepard, kodelyn velasquez. (yes, i’ll take any excuse to show her off a bit lol. you can totally block her tag if you’re getting spammed lol)

GENERAL

name : kodelyn amara shepard-velasquez [alenko post-war]

gender : female

age : 29 [me1], 31 [me2], 32 [me3]

place of birth : present-day los angeles

spoken languages : english, some spanish [her stepfather and sister are fluent]

sexual orientation : bisexual

occupation : staff commander of the earth systems alliance, spectre of the citadel council

APPEARANCE

eye color : brown

hair color : black

height : 5″11-6″0

scars and burn : surprisingly, not many. armor is usually well built, and scarring doesn’t happen often. lots of tiny scars from accidents and fights out of armor, and bruises from various fights and falls. the only one that is very obvious is the one left on her spine from the lazarus project. post-war, a burn takes up the right side of her face.

overweight : no

underweight : also no

FAVORITE

color : blue

music genre : early 21st century alternative

tv show : [movie]  has looked at fleet and flotilla once on tali’s request. doesn’t watch vids often.

food : is a fan of mostly fruits. likes the occasional sour candy though.

drink : isn’t a lightweight after the lazarus project, but doesn’t have much of a preference. says it doesn’t give the same kick anymore.

book : doesn’t read much anymore. with a war on, she’s basically married to every report that comes in, but before and after she says she enjoys a good mystery murder book.

HAVE THEY

passed university : yes

had sex : yes

had sex in public : no

gotten pregnant/gotten someone pregnant : no

kissed a boy : yes

kissed a girl : yes

gotten tattoos : yes

had a broken heart : yes

been in love : yes

stayed up for longer than 24 hours : definitely. has a very questionable sleep schedule that kaidan tries to rectify but ends up failing multiple times.

ARE THEY

a virgin : no

a cuddler : yes

a kisser : not particularly, but doesn’t mind it

scared easily : scared, no, startled, yes

jealous easily : no

trustworthy : yes

dominant : should i answer this?

submissive : not gonna answer this.

in love : yes

single : no

RANDOM QUESTIONS

have they harmed themselves : yes

thought of suicide : no

attempted suicide : no

wanted to kill someone : yes, the illusive man. succeeded, in the end.

rode a horse : no, actually has yet to see one in person.

have / had a job : yes

have any fears : fears losing the galaxy before she can save it. fears losing the people she loves.

FAMILY

sibling(s) : citlali velasquez, mason velasquez.

parents : hannah shepard [mother], joaquin velasquez [stepfather]

children : none [as of now]

pets : urz ;)

tagging anyone who’s interested, no obligation :)

[themildestofwriters-ocs]

OC Masterlist

~Divine Intervention~

Babette Felicia Abrams Melwyn

Celestial | Veteran | The Goddess out of Time

When Babette returned to Earth, she wasn’t even sure she was truly home. But, after a few months of the world staying remarkably consistent, she was beginning to rule out her return as some fever dream of the dying. This didn’t change anything though. It didn’t stop the nightmares. It didn’t stop the memories. Her family—and they were her family, weren’t they?—tried to help, but it had been so long and she could barely remember them.

She needed air. She needed some alone time, out of the hospital, out of the home. So what if it was Shabbos? Home was barely home anymore.

Tag: #oc: babette melwyn

fc: Anya Taylor-Joy

Josephine Avery Williams

Artist | Student | A Fan of the Classics

Josephine was a girl with a lot on her mind and, considering graduation was right around the corner, it was quite the pain in the ass. Grades, ATAR, university prospects, work prospects, drama rehearsals, and this isn’t even counting all going on in her private life. She felt like she was drowning in a tumultuous sea, barely being given the chance to breath.

Small things first. It was Samuel’s birthday, soon, wasn’t it? She still hadn’t gotten him a gift, yet. Perhaps she could organize a short trip to the city, just for that?

Tag: #oc: josephine williams

fc: Jessica Sula

Yael Aoi Melwyn

Complicated | Blade Fanatic | Takes After her Father

The first few moments of life for young Yael Melwyn was the sterile light of a laboratory, behind the spotless glass of her tank. A clone, bred to kill her genetic father and serve as an executioner of the Empire, but defective. She would’ve been thrown to the incinerator or dissected to perfect the final, penultimate clone. But when the very woman she was bred to kill besieges the facility she was born, plans change.

Older now, Yael searches for her father who had vanished so long ago. Her heart aches with pain and confusion and straight denial that Babette was dead. She was lost without her, lost without the single anchor she had in life, without her guardian.

So, when a being of pure light visited her in the night, asking if she wanted to be with her father again, there was no other answer she could give but “Yes.”

Tag: #oc: yael melwyn, #oc: yuuki melwyn, (defunct)

Ezra Valeria Melwyn

Miracle Child | Daydreamer | A Godling in the Playground

Ezra Melwyn, named after his mother’s brother in arms. Despite the chaos that was his birth, life for the little godling has been blessedly quiet (at least, so Mum says). But... there’s something wrong.

A pit of longing grows in little Ezra’s heart. Gods are abound, Uncle Apollo is proof enough, but the only kids like him are in his books. There is no Camp Half-blood, and aren’t any other godlings running around. He loves his mortal friends, but he’s the odd one out. Lavender skinned and golden eyed, he’s alone.

Tag: #oc: ezra melwyn, #oc: azrael melwyn, (defunct)

Henrietta Abrams

One night and Henrietta’s entire life was thrown into chaos. She barely had time to understand what was happening before her sister was shipped away in a speeding ambulance. When she next saw her, it was like a viceral punch to the gut. Tubes stuck out of her arms, out of her

she looked skeletal, almost dead yet somehow clinging to life.

What had happened to her sister? Why did she look at her family like they were strangers?

Tag: #oc: henrietta abrams, #oc: henrietta phillips, (defunct)

Miscellaneous OCs

Josephine’s Family: Harrison Williams (father), Alyssa Williams (mother), Noah Williams (older brother; deceased), Adrian Williams (little brother), Sofia Meric (aunt), Samuel Meric (cousin).

Babette’s Family: Aharon Abrams (father), Diana Harris-Caynham (mother), Fredrick Harris-Caynham (step-father), Benjamin Abrams (older brother), Henrietta Abrams (little sister), Flynn Harris-Caynham (little half-brother).

~A God Among Us~

Amara Windell

[synopsis pending]

Tag: #oc: amara windell

Meryl Culson

[synopsis pending]

Tag: #oc: meryl culson

~ INFAMOUS: Second Sons ~

Diana Evans, the Silica Conduit

Bio-Terrorist | Vagabond | Chaotic Good

Life sucked. First, your city is destroyed in a massive explosion. A plague sweeps the nation. Your family dies. You get superpowers, but you can’t do anything without the DUP hunting you down, and you can’t run far enough.

Years later, Diana Robin is sitting in her government funded cell, twiddling her thumbs. It’s not too bad, if you discount the guards treating you like subhuman pieces of trash, but the food’s alright and she can’t wait until Augustine lets her rip loose in the training arena again. But the Director has been gone for a while now, and nobody’s said a thing.

The answer comes soon enough, though, when some dude named Delsin Rowe comes bursting in, shattering the front door and liberating the conduits trapped inside. But, now that she’s free... what now?

Tag: #oc: diana evans

~Star Wars~

Lyira Arren, Apprentice to Darth Baras

Pureblood | Warrior | The Empire’s Wrath

Orphan of war and daughter of a hero, Lyira’s early life was filled with pain. But that was life, especially in the Empire. What really stung were the expectations. Her sister, Rayne Arren, heir to their house, was by far the more skilled of the daughters of Arren. The Force was second nature, and the things that she could do with her lightsaber were enviable.

What could Lyira ever hope to accomplish in the shadow of her sister, the prodigy? But now it is her turn to attend the prestigious Sith Academy on Korriban, and the most she can hope for is to survive.

Tag: #oc: lyira arren

~Vampire: The Masqurade~

Lisa Stroud

Tremere | Anarch | The Vampiric Troubleshooter

Strong soft arms, guide her to the bed. Bodies intertwined. Pain, then pure aching bliss. Bright lights and an insatiable hunger.

When Lisa went out clubbing to get over a rejection, she didn’t expect for anything to happen. A drink here or there; a break down in the bathroom. But now she’s been thrown into the deep end of vampire politics without a leg to stand on. With a puffed up Prince with the power to kill her in an instant and a brewing civil war on the horizon, Lisa just wished she could have one, one day to acclimatise to her new life.

Tag: #oc: lisa stroud

fc: Eiza Gonzalez

Julie and the Phantoms

Ryn “GrimmApple“ O’Brien

Skeptic | YouTuber | Problem-maker

Ryn was the quiet sort, content to fade into the background, an observer rather than a participant when it came to the daily dramas of Los Feliz High School. After all, why bother with who’s dating who when they could spend time thinking up ideas for their YouTube channel: GrimmApple.

A self-proclaimed skeptic, Ryn loves learning about the various supernatural phenomena, cryptids, aliens, and conspiracy theories across the world. More than that, they loved dissecting them, breaking them apart and debunking them—almost as much as they loved creating their own as little thought experiments. And that is precisely what GrimmApple was about.

Unfortunately, Ryn was going through a bit of a burnout. Motivation was hard to find and things were becoming a bit of a slog.

Then Julie Molina, a fellow classmate, takes the Spirit Assembly by storm with her hologram band, and Ryn needs a moment.

Holograms? Really?

Ryn wants to call bullshit. Where’d some high schooler get access to that sort of technology? In fact, why hadn’t anyone heard of holograms so advanced before? And how did Julie of all people, who hadn’t sung a single note for a year, got hold of a band in just one night? It just doesn’t add up!

So, with support and more than a little guiding wisdom from their older brother, Ryn sets out to solve the mystery that is Julie and the Phantoms.

tag: #oc: ryn o’brien

Terrence “Terry“ O’Brien

Himbo Extraordinaire | Aspiring Filmmaker | Penultimate Big Brother

Ryn’s brick wall of an older brother. Graduated high school top of the football team but quit sports to pursue film making. The gentle giant sort, he’s always looking out for his little sibling, whether it’s helping with their YouTube dream or lending support when life gets tough.

tag: #oc: terry o’brien

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Kaitlyn “Katie“ Walsh

Ray of Sunshine | Witch | Resident Pyromaniac

If Kaitlyn Walsh had to say where everything went wrong, she would cite Halloween night, 1997. One minute, she at a friend’s party, dressed up as a cute little witch. The next? She was face down in a pile of old books in the school’s library. Hours of time gone, no memory of what happened.

She wasn’t the only one. Countless people across Sunnydale had woken up in strange places across the town without any memory of how they got there. Of course, everyone else had different stories—break ins, arson, and violence in the street. It was utter chaos, and the only answer they were ever given was “A gas leak. Mass hallucinations. Nothing to worry about.”

Yeah. Nothing to worry about. Sure.

Still, she was alive. Her neck hadn’t ruptured, and nobody had tried stabbing her with a barbecue fork, so everything returned to normal. Schools. Studies. Boys. Parties. The usual. But… there was this niggling feeling that something had changed. That things were different now.

Then, one night, the power cut out. Her house was bathed in darkness. Rolling her eyes, she muttered a spattering of Latin and the candles decorating her vanity burst into flames.

She froze, staring into the fire and blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. “What the fuck?”

tag: #oc: kaitlyn walsh

fc: Bailee Madison

[renegade-skywalker]

Out of the Abyss, Chapter 7

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2  / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7: The Quiet Before the Storm

After years in exile, ex-Jedi General, Eden Valen continues to clean up after Revan and Malak’s mess of a war, only to find herself forever cursed with their unfinished business. As an ill-fated lead brings her to Tatooine, Eden finds that Revan’s mysterious plans go beyond the Republic, beyond the Outer Rim, and into the utter unknown. (A novelization of The Sith Lords and beyond)

Chapter Summary:  General Eden Valen's information has leaked, falling into the hands of bounty hunters, slavers and Republic Agents alike. As Vale and her crew plot their next move, there are already other forces at work threatening their slim chances at success.

3951 BBY, Coruscant

Rell’s eyes began to blur as she scanned pages upon pages of the holonet, tracking several covert forums while listening in on hacked communications – multitasking at her best. She blinked several times in quick succession, cracked her knuckles, and looked over at the row of intelligence officers beside her. They all had that same slack-jawed look about them as their attentive eyes scanned other corners of the holonet, their fingers typing away at commands, controlling remote consoles or looking into any number of leads the Republic was currently tracking.

She exhaled into a yawn before twisting her aching torso in her chair, pleased at the satisfying crack her back made when she turned. Only a few more hours and her shift would be over. Rell cracked her neck and stretched her arms once more before diving head-first into a forum linked to a notorious human trafficking ring orbiting Nar Shaddaa.

There was a certain level of compartmentalization at work as her eyes read queries about “restocked inventory” and “fresh meat”, trying to focus on code words and phrases they were given every few days, and sometimes every few hours, that told them a deal was about to be made. The code words helped her sleep at night, but she knew what they really meant. Despite the distance she kept, she still shivered when she got a lead, resisting the urge to retch when something particularly unsavory crossed her screen. Luckily for her, most of the images ever posted were basic ID photos or mugshots, nothing too graphic – though the “product descriptions” never made for a pleasant read. Whenever a new face came across her dashboard, she flagged and tagged it, and sent it to another department to register and cross-reference with surveillance or security footage. She was doing good work, she reminded herself, but she tried not to wonder just how many faces and files were eventually sent to cold-case…

Most of the faces today cycled from her previous shift, and she tried not to look any of them in the eye, lest she get too attached or too worried. None of them were familiar, though her console told her that most of these files had already been reported by her previously… except for one.

She almost scrolled right past it. It was buried in a message thread about new bounties – and unlike most postings, this one had replies from all over the damn galaxy. Usually, posts about a particular “item” remained within the same sector, or a system at most. Human trafficking was a dark business, but those who ran the rings new that travelling too far ran too many risks. This particular post didn’t have an inordinate amount of responses because it was posted not long ago, but the fact that they were from all over made her chest feel heavy.

Rell scrolled through the responses. Unsavory bounties, usually put on the head of a criminal who didn’t follow through for a crime syndicate were sold into slavery or worse for their “crimes”. Criminals were vindictive, and especially so when they were the on the foul end of a deal-gone-wrong or purposefully-sideways. Punishment for rogue criminals was far worse than what the Republic would do if they were intercepted. Life in prison was always favorable to most any punishment a crime lord could dream up. But this bounty was… different.

The woman’s face was almost familiar to Rell, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She scrolled through the responses in search of a common interest. Human women were fairly popular among slave traffickers, but why was this one drawing such diverse attention?

Once she read further, she knew why.

“No fracking way,” she breathed involuntarily as the words registered in her mind as if echoing. A Jedi.

Suddenly coursing with adrenaline, her fingers typed furiously in search of more information, looking for the link, the source of the leak. She almost stopped breathing all together…

Rell stared blankly at the screen, the mysterious Jedi’s full profile accessed before her unblinking eyes.

It took her a few moments to think straight. She opened the dialogue box that allowed her to send files to the next department, but found that she wasn’t even sure which department it should go to.

Instead, she uploaded the information to her datapad, threw her headset down at her desk and walked briskly out of the intelligence offices despite the confused stares of her colleagues. She rushed to the main elevators and took it straight to the navy yard, hoping he’d be there.

The rest was almost a blur, her blood thrumming in her veins as she brandished her datapad before the deck officer in desperation.

“But I need to talk to Admiral Onasi immediately!” Rell pleaded, her hand white-knuckling her datapad.

The man was so rattled he didn’t even know what to say anymore, “Agent Amara, I know you’re frustrated but Admiral Onasi is-“

“Right here,” someone finished.

They both spun around to find the veteran now standing beside them, looking tired in his navy fatigues.

Rell almost mauled the man down as she flourished her datapad again, but Admiral Onasi lifted a weary hand, stopping her in her tracks.

“Agent Amara, is it?” he asked, the exhaustion evident in his eyes, “What is this about?”

Rell fell back into habit at Admiral Onasi’s words, stopping and saluting, then stating her name and station before continuing.

“Sir,” she inhaled deeply, “This is about General Eden Valen.”

3951 BBY, Telos IV

For now you will forget me.

Brianna swore that she felt the bitter wind nip at her nose before she awoke in her chambers, alone. Her bedthings were askew, a pillow haphazardly at her feet and her legs tangled in her blanket.

She threw her covers off before examining her fingers, still raw with the cold.

Her dream felt so real, more real than any in recent memory. Brianna had the misfortune of experiencing vivid dreams all too often. She had once believed them to be prophetic but was soon dissuaded by the unrelenting doubt of her sisters, and the slow persuasion of her Mistress. She resigned her delusions and paid her dreams no more mind, and yet, this one felt different. It felt more like a memory and its weight carried over into waking life. It was not odd for Brianna to find herself plagued with the thought of bad dreams upon waking, as would anyone else. Nightmares tended to dictate some portion of the day that would follow, but often in sentiment and not in physical feeling. Brianna felt her feet and found that her toes were ice. Her extremities were freezing, as if she had just come out of the bitter cold.

She emerged from her bed and walked over to her refresher with purpose, kicking her blanket free from her foot as she approached. Her cheeks were red in the mirror, almost bloody in comparison to her porcelain complexion and stark white hair. She stood there, hands cradling her face, as she pieced the vividness of her dream together.

The beginning was muddled. She knew it began with brief images of Atris, the Academy, her father and the imagined face of her dead mother. The rest was where it became clearer… she, Arianna and Orenna were scouting the mountain – which was decidedly odd as they never scouted the mountain, there was never any need. And yet, the three of five Echani sisters explored the mountaintop in search of something, dressed their traditional white attire, becoming one with the falling snow. The air had stilled, falling frozen around her, before Brianna recalled a figure in the fallen flurry, with a face she could almost remember until it all faded, and the last Brianna recalled was the cold sweat of her forehead as she shot out of bed.

Taking a deep breath, Brianna looked at herself one last time before dressing, mentally ridding her mind of the notion that her dreams could have any implication other than that she was different, that she was other, and that she did not belong.

She emerged from her chambers to find her sisters already congregated at the center table, eating in silence. Their eyes lifted in unison, surveying their youngest sister and lingering over the redness of her cheeks before returning to their morning meal. Brianna nodded at them, smiled, though only two of them returned the gesture. A small victory.

Without thinking, she watched Arianna and Orenna as she ate, looking out for signs of redness, any indication that they had been out in the cold. But they were as still and silent as the others, rendered quiet by discipline and their Mistress’s strict schedule.

Brianna was the last to finish her meal, but her sisters voiced no qualm. They were trained not to. Instead, she saw their impatience in their eyes.

She scarfed down the final bites of her meager breakfast, all part of their disciplinary lifestyle, before she pushed her plate away and stood with the rest of her sisters in unison. Without a word, they left the common room and filed into the training hall. Brianna noticed that she left her room’s door ajar, mentally berating herself for being so careless. Being the last in line, as always, Brianna slipped back to close her door before her sisters could notice – only to find Master Atris waiting for her.

“Ah- Mistress!” Brianna gasped. Atris had not been standing there as they rose from the table, and she wondered when her Mistress had slipped into the room. Atris had command of the Force, and though she and her sisters were well-versed in ways to resist its powers, she knew there was more to the Force than she was ready to understand.

“I’m sorry Brianna, but I wished to speak with you alone,” Atris said, her voice soft and sweet, almost uncharacteristically so.

“Bri-?“ she said, surprised, unused to Mistress referring to her by name.

“Brianna,” Atris said again, smiling.

Brianna returned the smile, but was unsure of how genuine it appeared. Fear swelled in her chest and she wondered if it showed.

“I wanted to ask you a few questions, and I have a request.” Atris stated.

“Of course, Mistress,” Brianna replied, bowing slightly. She then resumed her usual stance with the woman before her, finally in control despite her surprise.

“Do you remember the stories I told you? About my old student?” Atris asked, her voice controlled and calm. Brianna stood at attention, but even still she sensed the tenseness emanating off her Mistress despite her best efforts. She tried not to betray her knowledge, and her curiosity, as she nodded in affirmation.

“Good, good,” Atris began, clasping her hands before her as if it were part of a meditation exercise, “I believe I need to ask a favor of you, a favor that relies on your recollection of her appearance, and her most recent whereabouts.”

Brianna nodded again, awaiting instruction. The way Mistress spoke of her old student always felt familiar to Brianna. It was the one time Atris ever betrayed emotion, the one time she was unable to compose herself without practice, making itself imminent. It was not unlike how Brianna felt about her sisters, or so she thought. The pain was evident on her face.

“But I ask that you go alone.” Atris finished.

Brianna remained silent, uncertain. She was about to ask why when Atris continued.

“I need this to remain as discreet as possible. I don’t want you to breathe a word of this to your sisters.”

Atris moved closer, placing a careful hand on Brianna’s shoulder.

“I entrust you with this mission, alone.”

“Alone?” Brianna tried not to betray her inner uncertainty, but her Mistress’s hand stayed her.

“You are not unlike myself, Brianna,” she said, using her name again, “I feel as if only you are up to the task.”

“But-?”

“But what will I tell the others?” Atris laughed, her voice hollow but melodic, like distant chimes on the wind, “You need not worry.”

Atris’ eyes were steadying but cold. Brianna nodded, unfamiliar with anything but compliance.

Brianna’s eyes unwittingly looked toward her open chamber door, catching a glimpse of her skewed bed and blanket. Her fingers and her face were still cold.

Atris extended a hand to her cheek, as if to calm her, but her fingers were cold, too.

“There’s no need to worry about the cold where you’re going,” she said, as if reading her thoughts, “In fact, there’s no need at all.”

3951 BBY; Anchorhead, Tatooine

Erebus felt the void leave Anchorhead, sensing the energies in the universe manifest around it as if it were not there, moving around it seamlessly like water forking before a large stone staked in a river. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t taken up this line of work were it not for his sister and what she did at Malachor V, were it not for what she had become.

His sister’s connection to the Force was always a matter of dark import to the Masters on Dantooine, and a matter of objective scholarly interest to few on Coruscant, but none were brave enough to learn more – save for Master Nomi Sunrider. But when she was called away on business, there were no others who dared get close enough for fear of what his sister’s “bond” might do to them, lest it ensnare them unknowingly and rope in their energies, somehow. He believed it too, once, until Malachor was swallowed whole and he felt the Force gather tenfold in his bones as it slowly left the vestiges of his sister, leaving her to become the walking black hole that she was now – a gaping nothingness that defied the laws of all he knew, living despite what should have killed her.

But she seemed almost better for it, content, as if the universe paying her no mind were the best thing that could have happened. Given how many of the Jedi once looked upon her with uncertainty and unbridled fear, maybe it was. It wasn’t until Aiden embraced his fear and called himself Erebus did he give his sister the attention she had deserved.

In the aftermath of the war, he became unstable, unsure of his newfound power and unsure of what to do with it. Had he siphoned it off her, unknowingly? Had the Force fled her, after the massacre on the Mandalorian moon, and sought refuge in her twin? But the Force didn’t work that way. Despite all his years of research as a junior Jedi Historian and as an acolyte under Darth Nihilus, Erebus was not sure, even now. Perhaps his sister’s Force bonds were stronger than any of them realized, the Jedi and the Sith combined.

His Sith Masters mentioned her often, almost as if she were the birth mother of their darkness. In a way, she was. The Mass Shadow Generator should have killed her, or at least twisted her in the way it did Nihilus and his contemporary, Sion. They both considered Malachor to be their birthplace, as did their old mentor, a woman called Traya. But she was gone by the time Nihilus knighted Erebus and granted him the title of Darth. It was a privilege, yes, but he was still subordinate… for now.

But now he had Eden in his grasp. Still undecided as to whether he would capture her and deliver her to Nihilus in hopes of an increase in rank or just approach her to simply talk, Erebus had staked out her droid repair stall in the meanwhile. She had hastily closed shop before leaving, but his frequent patrols dissuaded any potential burglaries, or so he imagined. He felt her void crawl back towards Anchorhead from the Dune Sea now, but as her emptiness neared, Erebus also felt something else.

The feeling was familiar, and it reeked of Malachor. It was hard to tell whether it had to do with Eden herself or something else entirely.

But that wasn’t the only development in her absence.

Since she had departed, the Exchange posted a bounty on all Jedi. The galactic black market was already alight with rumors and gossip, talk of potential candidates for the reward and word of where Jedi or other Force-users might be found, but there was a particular interest in General Eden Valen herself. Erebus and his Master were both aware, and Nihilus was particularly interested in news of the living Force wound.

Erebus’ skin crawled at the thought. He knew if he brought his sister before Nihilus that she would be subject to countless experiments, tests, and all means of torture in spite of his reverence – when part of Erebus really wanted to keep her all to himself. It was the reason he remained quiet about her upon first arriving, his gut wrenching at the news when her records were released.

He tried looking into where the leak originated to discover its source, but had no luck. Even extending his senses through the Force did no good. All he felt was malevolence and betrayal, and that wasn’t much to go on considering all the Sith or scum that sought such a prize. Despite the setbacks, Erebus knew he had the upper hand. He was the only one who knew she was here, he was the only one aware of her current excursion out to the Dune Sea, and he was the only one keeping tabs on her presence as her emptiness descended upon Anchorhead once again.

The confines of his ship rendered him restless, and it was time that he scout the area before her arrival. Erebus gathered his belongings, clipping his lightsaber to his belt, making sure it was well concealed beneath his cloak, before descending the loading ramp and making his usual rounds.

Energies milled about him, threatening to cloud his senses. After a breath or two, he could track each individual source of life within the city walls to some extent. He walked past the loading docks to the local bar, walking past a scuffle or two before entering the merchant’s district. This portion of the city was always in flux. Different stalls propped up every day as others disappeared into oblivion, but his sister’s shop remained.

Like any other Tatooine settlement, Anchorhead’s population was always changing, but Eden had chosen to stay. It was only in the past few days that he wondered why she was among them. The closer her nothingness approached the city, the more he suspected it had to do with the artifact he had originally come for. She knew, somehow.

Nothing dwelled about his sister’s shop, passersby heeding the ‘gone on business’ sign with some respect, it seemed. He slipped into the back entrance without being seen, and reached out with the Force to explore her residence without stirring a single droid this time.

Her workbench felt the most familiar. Erebus recalled Eden coming to him with her first crafted lightsaber. She was only eight. The pride was evident in her eyes, but the envy was more than evident in his. An absent hand traced the edges of the workbench, resurrecting the memory for just a moment, before he pulled himself away and meditated.

There was energy here, but faint. It was clear that there was something here, but the fact that the area was full of inactive droids and run by a person void of the Force made it feel hollow all the same. Yet somehow, despite the dissonance in the energy around him, it felt comforting. He felt some welcome sense of familiarity he was unwilling to let go of. Erebus almost hoped Eden would never return from whatever journey she had embarked on. Maybe it was better that way.

Then the unease set in, subtle and slow.

Before he knew it, Erebus knew she was on the precipice, at the very edge of the city.

His eyes shot open, his breath quick, his body unwilling to leave this place that felt so much like home – a home he never knew enough to even miss.

Nihilus would be waiting. He’d either capture Eden or let her get away. One of these scenarios ended in veneration, and the other in death.

Despite what ambition had inspired him these last nine years, Erebus stayed his hand, unsure of what to do next, waiting for his sister to arrive and discover him, for the first time since… when, exactly? He didn’t even recall what year their last meeting was, and his mind retreated to the mental place he found when he first discovered the part of him that was Erebus and became him.

The darkness enveloped his senses, quashing whatever sentiment remained, welcoming him like an old friend.

Maybe the decision was not as difficult as he predicted.

3951 BBY; approaching Anchorhead, Tatooine

Vale’s mind reeled as they neared Anchorhead again.

She had retreated to her makeshift quarters under the pretense that she was calibrating what she had recovered from the site the previous day. After encountering the Jawa, Orex ordered that they return to Anchorhead as quickly as possible. They had not stopped once since that meeting.

Vale was the first to meet them out on the sands. She was the only one with a handle on the equipment used to translate their gibberish. She knew a bit herself, but not enough to translate accurately. Even before her translator could do the work, a bad feeling crept over her as the miniature creatures squeaked and squawked at her. The Jawa had not come for the crawler. In fact, they never mentioned the salvaged vessel at all. Instead, they asked what became of their journey to “the untouched village” as they called it. They asked if they heard the voices, and heeded the whispers. Vale asked what they knew of the place, but the Jawa refused to elaborate on anything aside from the fact that they were lucky to leave with their lives. Of Tatooine’s many secrets, this was one they had always known to fear. They had known to stay away from the Star Forge navigational chart buried deep in the krayt dragon dens, but this… this was different.

“The Star Forge?” she asked, her transcoder repeating her words in high-pitched Jawaese.

“The dark one was here,” one of them said, the translation replied in a soothing monotone, “And the one they called Revan.”

Orex stood still beside her, his brows furrowed against the sun, but their eyes met at the mention of Revan’s name.

“The dark one?” she repeated, noting that they mentioned Revan by name but someone else, as well. Malak? But the Jawa ignored the question – whether intentionally or not, she could not tell – and continued.

“The people of before left mechanical maps, but the dark one left something else. The thing you carry is dark and dangerous, like them. The one called Revan came looking, too."

The Jawa wished them luck and sent them on their way, almost as if they were afraid to linger any longer before dissolving into the Dune Sea themselves, preferring the isolation of the sands to the darkness Vale and her crew now carried with them.

She was still unsure as to what their next move was. Who would they contact? Was there any way of destroying these artifacts safely? She had no idea, but she had every intention of finding out as soon as she had access to the holonet, if it were any help.

She sighed in relief as the treads slowed again, marking their return to Anchorhead.

Glitch parked the monolithic vehicle a ways outside of the city. Darek and Orex were already lugging salvaged swoop bikes from the cargo hold for their return. Vale heard the commotion down on the loading ramp, but felt someone watching her from the doorway as she gathered her things.

“What I still can’t figure out is why in the ‘verse Darek would have wanted me on this mission.” Asra stated, crossing her arms. “The hell if I know anything about… well, any of this.”

“Before I even signed on, I knew you were the best shot in town.” Vale said, watching Asra fidget. She couldn’t seem to decide whether she wanted to lean broodingly in the doorway, crack her knuckles or stroke her head-tails. “But really, it might be the montrals.”

Vale nodded at the white-striped blue montrals that protruded from Asra’s head. Like other Togruta, Asra wore a headdress around them – though hers was a simple silver chain with tear-drop beads weighing its linked tendrils in place. And also like other Togruta, Asra’s montrals were capable of sensing where something or someone was, even without the Force.

“You’re probably closer to a Jedi than I am these days,” Vale joked, though the humor fell flat and Asra’s eyes shifted.

“I didn’t know the Jedi could do that,” she said, her voice soft and tentative, “Strip the Force from a person? I may not know what it’s like, but it sounds like it would be horrible.”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds. Well, sort of,” Vale explained as she surveyed what droids remained in the hold, making sure that whatever diagnostics she could use were properly uploaded, “It’s a bit like living without a limb, only the loss of it doesn’t hurt as much as it hinders.”

Asra frowned, confused. Vale sighed, well-aware that she was doing a piss-poor job of explaining the Force, something she hadn’t felt in almost a decade.

“Imagine you woke up one day, and your dominant hand was missing. Not wrenched from you, not sawn off or anything gruesome. Just… gone.”

Asra considered her words, nodding, flexing her trigger finger as if taking Vale’s metaphor to heart. “You go to use it and… it’s not there?”

Vale nodded.

The feeling that flooded her at Malachor was worse than anything that came after. She wasn’t sure what happened, but once she left the Council chamber days later, her verdict ringing in her ears, the Force was void. It did not answer to her any longer, and it was almost as if it was never there. Almost.

Even still, she found herself trying to reach out with the Force at times. She was never skilled with mind tricks or the like, but as a Jedi Guardian she was used to harnessing the Force to enhance her speed or physical skill. Vale had to get used to taking things slow and steady, and accounting for gravity more than she was used to. She was now used to a shock staff more than she was a lightsaber, or so she believed, and a blaster felt more at home in her hand than she ever imagined one would be.

“I’m sorry to even ask, I just-“ Asra started, unable to finish her thought.

“It’s okay, really.” Vale hadn’t expected to make any friends out here, or ever, but from the moment she met Asra, she knew things were different. She tried to keep her distance, but in the past few months she had to admit that it was nice to see a familiar face around. Asra felt betrayed for a moment earlier, but she was trying to understand things now, and that was more than anyone had ever done for Vale, even before her exile.

“I still don’t feel right,” Asra admitted, absently stroking her head-tails again as Vale filled her pack, finding one of the mysterious onyx pyramids among her things, “I don’t know, maybe it’s because I’m not familiar with any of this, but-“

Vale stayed her, taking her hand from her pack and laying it gently on Asra’s shoulder. “I may have a history with this stuff, but we’re just as clueless as you are. And besides, I’m-“ Vale swallowed hard, “I’m really glad you were there.”

Dredging up memories was never easy, but Vale had no idea how she may have reacted if she had heard the ghost of Malak in her ear without Asra by her side. Asra looked up at her, appreciative, nodding in recognition.

“I guess I’m glad, too.”

Asra nodded in the direction of the droids, asking without words if Vale needed any more help. The Togruta helped her load some intelligence modules into a pack and load it onto one of the swoop bikes out on the dunes. Darek and Asra exchanged soft glances, and Orex looked at Vale with purpose.

“I think I may have an idea of who we can contact,” he said, though his voice was gruff and unsure. “I’ll need to check on a few things first, and it’s no guarantee.”

Orex and Vale spoke with their heads together, their whispers almost muted by the surrounding sands and the unforgiving winds upon them. Vale thought of Dxun and how the rain would drown out most sounds, allowing enemy troops to approach unannounced, despite their better efforts. She had a momentary flash of memory, of a man in his twenties disarming mines ahead of them, his boots caked with mud and what seemed like a permanent spatter of blood across his chest. Vale shook her head, looking at Orex with a better idea of who he was, once.

“It’s better than nothing,” she said. Orex nodded, his good eye glinting in the suns before he turned on his heel and mounted a swoop bike beside them.

Asra awaited her, ready. Vale swung her leg over the body of the mechanical beast, gripping Asra’s waist as the engine thrummed beneath them. She reached a hand back to make sure her pack was in place, her shock staff snug and secure in the straps. She lowered a pair of goggles over her eyes and nodded at Asra as she coaxed the throttle, sending them forward.

No one batted an eye as they entered the city. They were just another troupe of travelers, no one remarkable or of note. No one could feel the darkness they brought with them. Asra and the others cut their engines once they were inside the city gates, the other inhabitants milling about them without a second glance.

Vale lifted her goggles to rest on her forehead as she dismounted the swoop bike. Asra swung her leg around as well, careening the bike in the general direction of Vale’s shop as they walked. When they approached, the stall was quiet, but something wasn’t right.

Vale had no words for what she felt, or why, but she held up a hand to stay the others. Without words, they obeyed and milled about the market square as if nothing suspicious were happening. Vale approached her shop with caution, walking around the perimeter, keeping an eye out for foot prints or any other evidence that the place had been breached. Nothing caught her eye, but something didn’t feel right.

She lifted the sign she had left days ago, “gone on business”, and tucked it into her pack as she tentatively entered her shop alone. The droids were accounted for and untampered with, so it seemed. Her eyes scanned the area, looking for any sign of intrusion, of wrongness. Nothing jumped out at her. She approached her workspace in the back, and though nothing look disturbed, it felt… wrong. That same feeling of offness struck a chord with her, leaving a bad taste in her mouth, though she did not know how or why.

Asra poked her head in the front entrance before waving the rest of them inside. They had milled about the city center long enough, and it was time they discussed their next move.

Vale sighed as the rest of them filed inside. Darek, Orex and Asra brought their bikes around back and Glitch carefully shouldered the munitions pack onto the counter in the workshop. The others gathered at Vale’s side, after ensuring that the entrances remained closed. In turn, they shared dark glances, though none of them dared touch the pack – they knew not to. But it remained a reminder between them, and it made the air feel heavy.

They brought back more materials than anyone else ever had from the site before, and it wasn’t until now that they could truly remark on their loot, forgetting the more important topic at hand for just a few moments of reprieve and relief.

Darek was particularly excited about some Great Hyperspace War era weaponry, surprised at the near-pristine condition most of it was in. The swoop bikes were another perk, though those were not nearly as old. Glitch mumbled some things to Orex, to which he nodded in admiration though Vale hardly heard a word. Orex ruffled the girl’s hair and Vale wondered whether she was some kind of protégé of his, now that she knew the man a little better. The girl was good with explosives, which, as Vale recalled, was Orex’s specialty as a Republic soldier.

Vale even allowed herself to get excited. Some of the droids at the site were old, but their intelligence modules were still programmed to track moisture harvests with near precision, which was worth its weight in gold out here. She knew a lot of customers who might appreciate such a thing out in these parts, and for a decent price to boot - especially since Vale hadn’t put any money down to buy them. The others talked about the deserted town itself, digging into the lore conversationally as Vale unloaded her pack, happening upon the old relic again. She placed it carefully on the counter before her, watching how it caught the light as the others’ conversation slowed, and they, too, became engrossed in watching on.

“How old would you say is some of the stuff you saw there, Darek?” Vale asked, absently reaching for her work goggles.

“About a thousand years old,” Darek replied, his voice growing softer with each word, “Why?”

“How old would you say this thing is?” Vale said, gesturing towards the miniature pyramid. Darek only shrugged.

She placed her work goggles over her eyes and magnified the lenses so she could get a closer look. Upon further inspection, it looked as if there were miniature binary designs in the onyx, or whatever the hell it was, but she would need to examine the thing even closer before making any definitive conclusions.

“Is there someone we can send this to? Some kind of expert?” Asra asked, the worry evident in her tone of voice.

For a moment, Vale thought of her brother and of Atris, and how they would busy themselves with the datapads, ancient scrolls and books of the Jedi Archives. She wondered if the place still stood, and who was in charge now. If there was anyone left.

“Whoever can handle these things might be our only bet,” Orex said, clearly referring to the crystals stashed safely in the munitions pack.

Vale sighed, lowering her goggles before taking them off entirely, though she was almost tempted to throw them across the room. Resisting the urge, she placed them as gently as she could on her workbench and surveyed the others.

“So who do we go to? The Republic? Is that our next move?”

“Maybe,” Orex said, “Like I said, I still have some contacts there. The Jedi had close ties with the Republic, and I have a feeling that not every Jedi was wiped out at that conclave.”

“Or so we hope,” Vale said, mentally reminding herself not to tempt her curiosity on the matter. Malak was gone forever, yes, but there were still others that she had once cared for that were alive and well before she knew any different. Revan was missing, for one. But she also thought of the Council: of Atris’ stoic stare, full of betrayal and hurt-nearing-hatred; and Kavar’s eyes, a dark and deep sapphire like sea after a storm, heavy with regret. And she thought of Nomi, too, her first Master. In her desperation, she had sought Master Sunrider out not long after her exile, when she still stumbled blindly out on the Rim without the guidance of the Force. But she had no luck. And none, either, when she sought information on her brother and his whereabouts. The last she had heard, however, was that he was no longer on Coruscant, but that could mean a thousand things. She wondered if he, too, had gone to the conclave on Katarr. She wondered if any of them had.

“I’m pretty sure they prepare for this sort of thing. The Jedi would know not to all gather in one place, especially if something like this could happen. It might have happened before, but I'm not sure.” Vale said, vaguely remembering a scandal from around the time that she was first asked to join Revan’s cause that flirted with the idea of a Jedi fail-safe. "Either way, they're definitely in hiding now, and probably impossible to get a hold of."

“And they wouldn’t want to be found,” Orex finished. Vale nodded.

“Who do you still keep in contact with?” she asked. “In the Republic?”

“A few soldiers and techs, you’d remember them,” Orex responded almost fondly, “And they’d be glad to know you were still around, too.”

Vale felt her cheeks grow warm at the thought, but Orex continued without comment.

“Who was that Republic soldier that traveled with Revan?” Vale suddenly remembered before getting too sentimental. “He was a Republic soldier, right?”

She remembered the name had sounded familiar when talk of Revan's return were abound, but the name escaped her now.

Orex nodded in affirmation before saying, “I think he’s a higher up, now.”

“He would be,” she replied, considering the chain of command, “Do you know anyone working directly with him?”

“Pretty sure he’s heading the relief efforts so it shouldn’t be hard,” Orex answered.

“He might be our best bet,” Vale considered, unsure of where her gut was getting its ideas. She was still eyeing the pyramid before her, dredging up memories she had once sworn to bury. She thought of Revan, she thought of Dxun, and she tried to recall nights when Malak awoke in a sweat, screaming. Perhaps he had said something in passing, or shouted it from the depths of his dreams before waking her. There had to be something, anything. But despite what she could recall, Revan was still out there and she was their best hope, their only hope.

Revan had gone missing on purpose, but was this the reason why?

The miniature relic betrayed no secrets, and remained silent and still.

The heat enveloped her, and welcomed her more than the cold ever did. Still, she was instructed to draw her hood – all the better to mask her features, to keep herself hidden and nondescript. Despite the shade, Brianna relished in the plush warmth of the suns basking down on her from above, settling over her cool skin like velvet. She had been cold for far too long.

The hood hid not only her notable features but also the smile that crept across her mouth at the sensation. Her skin yearned to drink in the heat of this planet and let it settle deep within her bones, but she was not to be here for long. She was only here to observe. As per her Mistress’ instructions, there would be a shop ahead, several hundred paces ahead of her – though all she could see were the masses milling about the marketplace. Once in the general vicinity, she would wait for word, and watch. She had never been trusted enough to go anywhere on her own. Despite the ill feeling that plagued her at the thought, the warmth that pervaded her hooded cloak, the sensuous smells of the sand, and even the feel of it embedded in her fingernails and stuck in the crevices of her boots made her feel a little bit more alive and she did not envy the creeping cold back home. It was seldom she experienced anything other than snow, if she were allowed outside at all. The shifting weight of the sand beneath her boots was something so unlike the solid crunching of snowfall underfoot that she was almost entranced enough to forget where it was she was going. Though she was more familiar with what was cold and lonesome, she had seen places other than the mountain. Dense jungle frontier, the pervasive thickness of swamp land, the nothingness of vast plains – and yet the desert beyond this town was something she had never seen. Sure, the prairies and plains of other worlds seemed endless but there was something entrancing about the vast neverendingness of the desert. Unlike other wastelands, this one did not feel empty and she could not explain why. She had tried to divulge her feelings, but her mistress had simply bid her to “Heed not, child,” and she obeyed, despite the very thought of it dogging her brain. A building bearing the same facade described in her mission came into view, even though many of the formations here looked so similar – clay walls topped with burnt orange doors to match the tents overhead and the hue of the sky when the twin suns set. Her steps slowed as she approached, soaking it all in.

The shop sign read as described, and Brianna was not one to admit that she was almost afraid. She stopped and looked about, looking for a place from which to watch safely. Not far off was a food stall and several well-worn tables covered with meager shade. She ordered something she could eat slowly, and parked herself at a vacant table for two. Tempted as she was to watch everything around her, Brianna was drawn to the place she was assigned to keep an eye on, if not for the import of her mission, but for the curiosity that drew her eye there. Beyond its walls was the woman that betrayed her Mistress, the woman who abandoned the Jedi and all they stood for.

Soon, there would be swarms in the market-place, and though Atris already predicted the outcome of the scuffle to come, Brianna was to report the results promptly and not leave a single detail out of her retelling. Brianna watched and waited, eager for the action to unfold.