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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By the time they had landed on Coruscant, everything had unravelled.
The halls of the Jedi Temple were colder now, lined with hushed voices and careful glances, with shadows stretching longer than before. It was not the temple Leilani had left behind. It was something fractured, waiting. Events had taken a turn—one that could not be undone.
Anakin had found Ahsoka. And in her possession, he had found the very thing that had destroyed the temple. Explosive nano-droids. The same ones that had torn through the sacred halls of the Order, that had killed Jedi, troopers, and innocents alike. The evidence, undeniable in its presence, wove a damning thread that tied Ahsoka to the crime. Whether by her hand or by another's remained unknown, but the chain had already been forged, linking her name to treason and betrayal.
And now, the Council has summoned a hearing.
It would not be a trial, not in the way the Republic saw justice. No—this would be something colder, something impersonal, something that bore the facade of fairness while the truth was already being written behind closed doors. The Senate was watching. Waiting. Their presence lingered over this like a storm poised to strike.
The air in the Temple felt wrong, weighted by something that did not belong, something that had never belonged within these walls—fear.
Leilani had never doubted the fractures within the Order, the ways in which their choices often leaned too heavily into politics rather than truth. But this? This was something else. Ahsoka had been one of theirs. She had been raised within these halls, trained under their guidance, and trusted to wield the very teachings they had instilled in her. And yet, now, they questioned her.
Leilani wasn't sure if it was justice they sought—or convenience.
Ahsoka had run. She had fled. And though there was reason enough to believe that she had done so out of desperation rather than guilt, the Order had not seen it that way. The Council had called for her return, but the Senate had watched too closely, their influence pressing into the fragile balance of Jedi authority. This was no longer just a matter of finding the truth. It was a matter of image.
Leilani could see it unravelling, could feel the coming disaster settling into place, brick by brick, moment by moment.
Anakin stood at the centre of it. He was not well.
She had seen him enraged before, had seen the fire of his temper burn bright and hot in battle, but this was something else entirely. This was something broken. His movements were too sharp, too controlled, as if the weight of it all had forced him into stillness, into restraint. His breath was even, but it was too even. His silence was measured, but it was too precise.
Leilani recognized the signs.
He was holding it all in, pressing it down, letting the weight of his grief coil around his bones, the pressure growing tighter with every second.
