Mandalorian Lost

Chapter 1

19 BBY

Sundari city always had a shimmering, clear sky. The sun shone brightly against metal buildings that practically touched the glass ceiling above the atmosphere like a beacon of strength and courage. Tara couldn't imagine how they stayed upright, never falling over into the city below. Her mother tried to explain it once, but it went right over her head.

She was only five anyway.

"Tara, pay attention," the man before her scolded. His severe gaze softened a fraction for her when her big green eyes glittered up at him. He held up a longer piece of metal, waving it in front of her like a treat. "What's this made of?"

"Beskar steel," she announced proudly. The man smiled, nodding his head.

"And where does it go?"

With a short giggle, she smacked her thigh a few times.

"Very good, Tara." He set the thigh guard down on the table between them, allowing it to join the ranks of countless other pieces of beskar. Tara smiled up at her mentor and before letting her eyes pull toward the helmet on the table between them. The 'T' shaped visor stared back at her, luring her in.

She couldn't wait until the day she got to wear one of her own, fighting like a true Mandalorian. The man before her, the leader of House Vizsla, had brought them back to Mandalore. Instead of living on the dark moon of Concordia where she was born or running from planet to planet, she was going to live on bright, bustling Mandalore for her whole life.

"In time, little one," he chuckled, his gaze flicking between her and the helmet. His was dark gray with arcs of blue around where his cheeks would be. The top of the helmet was what drew her in the most, though. The bright three-pronged symbol reached up like bony fingers clawing at the sky. The shriek-hawk. "Or, perhaps you could take it from me now." One of his eyebrows rose into an arch as his gaze darted between the helmet and Tara. She grinned.

She didn't understand why she could do it, but she held her hand out and willed the helmet to float into her open arms. She hugged it to her chest, giggling some more when his smile widened. He was most proud of her when she made things float.

"When can I fight?" She asked him, tearing her eyes away from the helmet in her grasp.

"We just ran through your drills this morning," he replied, a teasing grin on his face. Tara made a show of rolling her eyes and planted one hand on her hip while the other clung to the helmet.

"When can I fight out there with you?" She asked again, jabbing a tiny finger toward the window. His smile turned down slightly, a cloudiness to his eyes that Tara never understood until she was older.

"Soon. For now, you must learn all you can about our way. Mandalorians are fighters. It's in your blood. We were made to rule this planet," he said, gazing out the window with a sense of pride. Tara followed his gaze, searching for the power he spoke of as if it would light up like a sign in front of her. "You have a gift, Tara Vizsla. Soon, you will learn to use it for the good of our people."

Before she could ask another question, or insist that she could fight now, a red-haired Mandalorian warrior burst into the room. Tara recognized Bo Katan, though she frowned when the older woman didn't return Tara's bright smile. She always smiled at Tara.

"Pre, we have to move. Maul is here," she said quickly, her gaze lingering on Tara for a moment. Pre Vizsla stood, taking his helmet from her and tucking it under his arm. Tara jumped to her feet and pouted up at him, not at all happy about her lesson being cut short, and he knelt before her.

He gently pushed her shoulders until she staggered back a few steps. In the space between them, he ignited the sword usually sheathed on his back. The obsidian blade glimmered at her, swallowing all light around it except for the flickering white at its edges. She gasped, her wide eyes filling with its reflection.