It wasn't a question of if—it was a fact.
She was lost, somewhere in the vast, lawless reaches of the Outer Rim.
And she was broke to boot.
The clothes on her back had seen better days—finer days, cleaner days. Now, they hung loose, worn thin by dust and travel. Her boots, once sturdy, were scuffed and thinning at the soles. A refresher stop would've been a luxury, but luxuries weren't on the table. Not anymore. In her hasty escape, she had left behind everything of value—armor, credits, personal effects. All of it, likely plundered and sold to the highest bidder by now. All she had left was her lightsaber. That, at least, she hadn't let go. Aielyn sighed, shoulders slumping slightly as she trudged forward, her boots scuffing against the cracked pavement of the alleyway. The artificial glow of flickering neon signs bathed the walls in sickly hues of red and green, casting long, shifting shadows. The air smelled of oil, sweat, and something burnt—an acrid reminder that this place, like so many others in the Rim, had long since given up on being civilized.
Her mismatched eyes darted from figure to figure, scanning for threats, for signs that someone was watching too closely. There was always someone watching. She knew Karis wouldn't let her go so easily. The question was: how far would he chase her? Would he even bother now that she was beyond his reach?
Maybe she was fooling herself. Maybe she was already a marked woman, a bounty just waiting to be collected.
No matter. She pressed on.
The streets were thick with bodies, hunched figures moving through the murk like ghosts, voices low and tense, haggling over goods or whispering deals meant to go unheard. The cantina loomed ahead, its rusted metal doors half-open, leaking dim golden light and the low hum of conversation. Inside, she had to find someone—someone who would listen. Someone who could help.
But did help even exist?
The past few weeks had stripped her illusions bare. She had been robbed by a man desperate to save his child. Scammed by a pilot who had no excuse but greed. The galaxy was full of problems, and hers were just another drop in an ocean of suffering.
"What is so special about your little planet that makes you think anyone cares?"
The words still stung. They had been meant as a dismissal, but they had cut deep. Maybe they were right. Maybe no one did care.
Her mission had started as a crusade—a fight for her people. But survival came first. If she couldn't even secure her own future, how could she save anyone else?
Aielyn squared her shoulders, swallowed down the exhaustion, and stepped inside.
Iona Starchaser
She was lost, somewhere in the vast, lawless reaches of the Outer Rim.
And she was broke to boot.
The clothes on her back had seen better days—finer days, cleaner days. Now, they hung loose, worn thin by dust and travel. Her boots, once sturdy, were scuffed and thinning at the soles. A refresher stop would've been a luxury, but luxuries weren't on the table. Not anymore. In her hasty escape, she had left behind everything of value—armor, credits, personal effects. All of it, likely plundered and sold to the highest bidder by now. All she had left was her lightsaber. That, at least, she hadn't let go. Aielyn sighed, shoulders slumping slightly as she trudged forward, her boots scuffing against the cracked pavement of the alleyway. The artificial glow of flickering neon signs bathed the walls in sickly hues of red and green, casting long, shifting shadows. The air smelled of oil, sweat, and something burnt—an acrid reminder that this place, like so many others in the Rim, had long since given up on being civilized.
Her mismatched eyes darted from figure to figure, scanning for threats, for signs that someone was watching too closely. There was always someone watching. She knew Karis wouldn't let her go so easily. The question was: how far would he chase her? Would he even bother now that she was beyond his reach?
Maybe she was fooling herself. Maybe she was already a marked woman, a bounty just waiting to be collected.
No matter. She pressed on.
The streets were thick with bodies, hunched figures moving through the murk like ghosts, voices low and tense, haggling over goods or whispering deals meant to go unheard. The cantina loomed ahead, its rusted metal doors half-open, leaking dim golden light and the low hum of conversation. Inside, she had to find someone—someone who would listen. Someone who could help.
But did help even exist?
The past few weeks had stripped her illusions bare. She had been robbed by a man desperate to save his child. Scammed by a pilot who had no excuse but greed. The galaxy was full of problems, and hers were just another drop in an ocean of suffering.
"What is so special about your little planet that makes you think anyone cares?"
The words still stung. They had been meant as a dismissal, but they had cut deep. Maybe they were right. Maybe no one did care.
Her mission had started as a crusade—a fight for her people. But survival came first. If she couldn't even secure her own future, how could she save anyone else?
Aielyn squared her shoulders, swallowed down the exhaustion, and stepped inside.
Iona Starchaser
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