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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There was always a weight to the way news reached Tython. It did not arrive in the hurried urgency of Coruscant, nor did it carry the sharp efficiency of a battlefield transmission. Instead, it crept in slowly, like a shifting tide, dragging its burden through the temple halls until it settled like dust upon the ancient stones. Leilani had learned to recognize it—the way the air seemed to still just before a message arrived, how the murmurs of the Jedi stationed here took on an edge of quiet tension. News did not simply arrive on Tython; it lingered, unfiltered, slashing into the wind like an unseen blade.
She stood near the eastern meditation hall, the open archways allowing the crisp morning air to curl through the stone corridors. The light of the rising sun bled gold across the temple's worn walls, illuminating the carved reliefs of the Jedi past. This place, her home, had remained unchanged in the years. And yet, standing here now, she felt a distance she could not quite name.
Behind her, the faint sound of footsteps echoed—light, measured.
Nia.
"I figured I'd find you here," her Padawan's voice carried a note of amusement, but it was subdued, laced with something quieter.
Leilani did not turn immediately, allowing herself a moment longer to watch the valley below. "Is there something I should be preparing for?"
Nia hesitated, and that was enough of an answer.
Leilani turned then, her gaze settling on the younger woman. Nia stood with her arms loosely crossed, her posture relaxed, but her eyes betrayed her. They flickered toward the data-pad in her grasp, then back to Leilani, unwilling to deliver whatever message had been sent their way.
"Let me guess—war updates?" she asked, already steeling herself for another grim report on troop movements or Separatist countermeasures.
Nia hesitated, her expression tightening in a way that made Leilani's stomach twist with unease. "Not... exactly," the Padawan said carefully, her voice subdued but charged with a tension that spoke volumes.
Leilani narrowed her eyes, the hair on the back of her neck rising. "What is it, Nia?"
"Master Tiplar," Nia began, her tone faltering, "has been murdered."
The words hit Leilani like a sudden blow. She blinked, her mind struggling to reconcile what she had just heard. "Murdered?" she echoed, disbelief threading through her voice. "By who? A Separatist agent?"
Nia's jaw clenched, and for a moment, she couldn't meet Leilani's gaze. "By one of the clones," she said softly.
"I—what?" Leilani's voice wavered between shock and confusion. "A clone? That's impossible."
