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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Three days in a bacta tank was definitely more than boring — spending all the time floating in the slimy material, instead of duelling practice was a horrible decision; or at least so thought Nia. Losing her arm wasn't even meant to be a trauma — but a slight scratch she should've escaped from in moments, certainly not days.
She hated it.
The soft hum of the medical equipment, the occasional beeping of vitals being monitored—it all blended into the same dull, mind-numbing rhythm. Every second spent in this tank was a second wasted. Three days without training. Three days without holding a lightsaber. Three days without a fight.
Her arm—well, what was left of it—ached in a way that wasn't just physical. Losing it should have been nothing. A setback, at worst. A scratch she should've evaded should've countered. Instead, she had been forced into recovery, stripped of agency, and useless while the war raged on.
It wasn't trauma. She refused to let it be trauma. It was just another lesson. One more thing to overcome.
She had half a mind to break out of the tank herself—rip off the breathing mask, kick open the hatch, and march straight to the training rooms. But she had promised her Master she'd follow orders. For once.
Still, it didn't stop her from rolling her eyes every time the droids floated past, scanning her vitals like she was a fragile youngling instead of a fully capable Jedi Padawan.
Another day of this and I'll lose my mind before I lose another limb.
Therefore, she was more than enthusiastic when the Council finally assigned her to a mission—one that didn't involve floating helplessly in a bacta tank or being poked at by medical droids.
And not just any mission.
The Republic had received intelligence about a new Separatist weapon—one with capabilities significant enough to warrant immediate action. It was still in early development, but if the reports were accurate, it could shift the balance of the war. Destroying it before it became fully operational was now a priority.
Which meant they were sending her.
Not alone, of course—her Master had been assigned to lead the investigation, but they weren't the only ones. Obi-Wan. Anakin. Ahsoka. The mission would require precise execution, and the five of them had been chosen to see it through.
For the first time in three days, Nia felt like herself again.
That is until she remembered that they were taking the Twilight, and that enthusiasm wavered ever so slightly.
The ship itself was fine, all things considered. Rusted, barely held together at times, sure—but it had its charm. The real issue was that Anakin was in charge of prepping it for departure.
