LEILANI SERENNO bridged the past and the present, born into a family of cruelty and then groomed to fulfil a role in the grand scheme of things. She was a puppet manipulated by her brother, ensnared in a larger narrative orchestrated by the Force. Y...
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No matter how much we ought to run, there always comes a time when we will be forced to reflect on our actions and past. There could be moments in our lives which shake our beliefs, tear apart our bodies or even darken our mind; yet in the heat of the adrenaline we never realise what it means -- and then, a quiet moment comes, a source of silent struggle, where our knuckles whiten from the sheer force of us gripping to life; it all comes crashing down, all at the same time. In those moments, time becomes meaningless. The minutes stretch and blur, unmoored from reality. Words fail us; actions feel distant, as if performed by someone else. We are no longer present in the world around us but trapped within the bars of our own mind, wrestling with emotions too raw to process. It is not living, not in the truest sense—it is survival on the most primal level, an unconscious fight to endure the storm raging within. And yet, it is in those moments that we are laid bare, forced to confront the truth of who we are, what we've done, and the choices that have brought us to this place.
That was exactly how Leilani felt. In the past—Dragon only knew how many days, weeks, or even months—her memories had returned with the sharp, relentless precision of a needle, each one piercing her skin and leaving its own invisible mark on her body and soul. The death of Jenza and Skimmer, an ache that never truly faded. The disappearance of General Chrodber, a death she couldn't justify. The misstep of Blaze, a failure that burned deep in her conscience. Nia's injury, a wound not just to her Padawan but to her own sense of responsibility. And, of course, the trial of the moons, where every step forward felt like dragging herself through shards of glass.
Through it all, Leilani had never allowed herself to feel it fully. She had kept every emotion locked tightly away, hidden behind the carefully constructed facade of strength and composure that the galaxy demanded from her. There was no room for vulnerability, no space to acknowledge the weight of it all. She was a Jedi—she had to be resolute, unshaken, even as her heart trembled beneath the surface. But now, with no one around to see her, and with nothing left that truly mattered, she let it slip. Here, in the damp darkness of captivity, the walls she had so painstakingly built finally cracked. Alone and powerless, there was no need to maintain the illusion anymore. No need to pretend that she was unbroken.
In this place, she was just one of the slaves—a mere prisoner in the hands of a vile, disgusting man. Nothing more. Certainly not a Jedi. Not a warrior. Not even the version of herself she had once been. Here, stripped of her dignity and freedom, she was something raw and fragile. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, she allowed herself to feel it all.
How she had ended up here... she couldn't quite piece together. Her last memories were fragments, disjointed and hazy. She recalled the chaos of the battle—the blinding flashes of blaster fire streaking across the void, the familiar hum of her fighter's controls beneath her hands, the sharp orders crackling through her comm. There had been an explosion, a sudden burst of energy that rattled her bones and sent her spiraling. After that...nothing.
