Snow spiraled in the air like frozen ash, catching in the light of a pale winter sun. Raedon stood ankle-deep in it, the breath in his lungs warm and visible. Ahead of him, a young girl—barely older than a child—laughed and skidded down a frost-covered slope on a flattened sheet of metal. Kyria.
She turned, her cheeks rosy, her eyes shining with unfiltered joy. He knew this memory. It had always lived in the corner of his mind like an ember that refused to die.
They had spent hours in those woods, chasing one another through the drifts and daring each other into snow-laden trees. No war. No pain. Just two gifted souls learning to be alive before they learned how to fight.
The vision shifted.
Now she knelt before a Jedi Master, back straight, gaze resolute. Her ceremonial robes shimmered beneath the temple's crystal light. Raedon stood behind her, proud, uncertain. When she rose, it was with a solemn nod and a smile that trembled slightly at the corners.
Then the room blurred, stretched. Training sabers now flashed between them in synchronized movements. Her form was graceful but always a second behind. She grinned when she caught his blade with the edge of hers, triumph lighting her face.
He should have said something then. Something kind. But instead—
No.
The thought clawed up from the back of his mind like a scream trying to escape through closed lips.
No, not this part. Don't let it go further. Stop.
But the dream would not obey him.
The rooftop stretched out beneath his boots, slick with rain. Coruscant's skyline was gone—replaced by a curtain of black. A hollow, silent sky, as if the stars themselves had turned away. He stood back-to-back with Kyria, their blue lightsabers humming like twin heartbeats in the void.
She turned her head slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. "Stay close," he whispered.
Her brow furrowed.
Then the red came.
Like sparks born from hell, a dozen Sith blades ignited in perfect silence. They hovered in the dark like the eyes of beasts. Kyria took a step forward, blade raised. Her voice caught on his name—but he couldn't hear her. Everything was drowned in the sound of his pulse and the crack of sabers meeting in the dark.
Raedon twisted in his bed, limbs tensing. Sweat rolled down his temple. The hum of the hyperdrive twisted, thinned into something eerie. Wrong.
He gasped awake, bolting upright in his bunk.
But the ship felt… off. The walls breathed too slow. The corridor outside pulsed with a rhythm not synced to the engines. He stepped out, the floor cool beneath bare feet, his skin crawling with memory.
A voice echoed from around the corner. Soft. Familiar.
"I will love you for eternity. But you cannot live in this moment."
He turned.
Kyria stood at the far end of the corridor—older now, her presence softened by some unknowable peace. She wasn't glowing. She wasn't ghostly. She was simply there, as if she had always been.
He stepped toward her.
The corridor bent.
Reality folded like glass struck too hard.
Suddenly, he was on Coruscant again. But not standing. He was on the ground. His legs were gone—cut clean below the knees. Smoke hissed from the cauterized ends. Pain, unrelenting and primal, bloomed through him like fire licking his spine.
Ahead, Kyria stood alone. Her saber wavered in her grip. Sith encircled her—five, maybe more. He screamed her name. Crawled.
They struck.
One after another, red blades cleaving through air, through her. Her blade dropped. Her body crumpled.
Raedon reached for her, his fingers scraping stone, blood smearing beneath his hand. The pain crushed his lungs, drove needles behind his eyes. The Force screamed in him.
And then—
Silence.
His eyes opened slowly. On the ceiling of his cabin, single blinking panel, faintly glitching with static blue. He exhaled, long and heavy, staring upward.
"I really need to fix that."
