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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Spending days on Tython should have been a welcome reprieve. The ancient home of the Jedi, steeped in history and the whispers of those who had come before, should have offered a sense of peace, a grounding presence beneath her feet. But for Leilani, the weight of loss pressed against her ribs, a slow, persistent ache that dulled even the beauty of the temple ruins and the endless stretches of untouched wilderness.
Adi Gallia was dead.
Struck down by Maul's blade.
The news had reached them days ago, and yet it still sat like stone in her chest, unmoving, unyielding. Another Jedi lost to this war, another name added to the growing list of those who would never return. She had fought alongside Adi before, had shared strategy meetings, and had stood beside her in battle. She had seen her as steady, unshakable—a presence that could always be counted on. But now, she was gone, her body left behind in the chaos of another meaningless conflict, a casualty of vengeance rather than war.
And then there was the other wound, the one still festering in silence.
The temple bombing. It was unfinished, unresolved. The Council had yet to find those responsible, and that absence of resolution gnawed at Leilani in ways she could not entirely explain.
Nia had buried herself in discipline, in motion, in the familiar rhythms of battle readiness. She trained relentlessly, throwing herself into perfecting her saber forms with a fervour that bordered on obsession. The troopers had welcomed her back into their ranks without hesitation, and she had fallen in step beside them as if no time had passed at all. Captain Blaze led their drills with quiet authority, his presence a stabilising force among them. And Nia followed, as she always did, falling back into the comfort of orders, of camaraderie, and of the certainty that as long as she kept moving, she would not have to think.
Leilani envied her for it.
But she had never been the kind to lose herself in repetition, in action for the sake of action. No, her grief was quieter, heavier. It filled the spaces between her thoughts, settled in her lungs with every breath she took. She found herself walking more often, losing time in the temple ruins, letting her fingers trace along the worn stone, the ancient carvings that had stood for centuries. She had always felt the weight of history here—the voices of those who had walked these paths long before her, their wisdom lingering in the silence. But now, she found no comfort in it. Only a deep, aching loneliness.
She walked because standing still felt unbearable.
She should have meditated. Should have sought clarity in the Force. But every time she closed her eyes, she felt the cold press of reality against her skin, the knowledge that Adi was gone, that their enemies had walked freely into the heart of their temple and left ruin in their wake.
