Private Through The Shadows

[Everest Vale]

Eve's dorm was quiet, holding a silence that was too uncomfortable to really called peace.

The young Echani sat in the centre of the room, her legs folded beneath her, hands resting lightly on her knees. She had decided to practice deeper meditation for peace, for clarity, for something to anchor herself to. But as she closed her eyes and reached into the Force, all she found was noise.

Not the kind that filled the halls of the Jedi Temple. Not the distant conversations of Knights and Padawans going about their routines. But a noise noise that dwelled within her. It was the echo of everything she hadn't been able to quiet since Woostri.

She exhaled slowly, trying to focus.

The Force should have felt like an ocean, vast and endless, flowing through all things. But today, it was a storm. Restless. Unforgiving. She let herself drift into it anyway, deeper into the currents, searching for something, for peace, for purpose, for a reason to believe in her own strength again.

And then...

A presence.

Not her own. Not Valery's, not Colette's, not Tigris'. It was familiar, but fractured.

Azzie.

The connection wasn't clear. It was faint, fragile, as though something, or someone, was keeping the feeling from stretching too far. Perhaps it was a mere reflection of something, Eve couldn't tell. But the pain that came from it, the desperation, that was real. Fingers curled around her knees anxiously.

Her breath suddenly caught in her throat.

"No... No! Stop it!"

The terrible, laboured screaming tore through her awareness, sinking into her bones, wrapping around her ribs like something cold and unrelenting. Her heart pounded. She reached out through the Force, instinctively, wanting to find her, to pull her through, to do something, anything... but she was met with naught but the blinding feeling of pain and suffering as the vaguest of flashes seared into her mind of something so terrible she couldn't even comprehend it.

The sensation hit like a dagger to her spine, sharp and unbearable, forcing her to gasp aloud as her body jerked forward, pulling her completely from her focus. Her hands caught the floor as she trembled violently, uncontrollably, the last fragments of the connection slipping away, leaving behind only emptiness. Her breathing was uneven, but she swallowed hard, trying to ground herself.

"N-no... No... A-A-Azzie... Where... are you?"

Only the uncomfortable silence responded.

Her vision blurred with tears.

 

[Everest Vale]

The night air was cool against her skin, carrying the distant hum of the city below. Eve stepped onto the quiet balcony, the durasteel railing cool beneath her fingertips as she leaned against it. Slowly, her gaze looked upwards into the glistening black.

There they were. The stars. Endless. Vast. The same as they had always been.

She exhaled slowly, watching the sky stretch out before her. She had spent hours staring at the stars as a child on the farmstead, where the sky felt closer, softer, full of stories. Her mother had told her the stars were watchers, silent guardians that had been there long before her and would remain long after. But now, looking at them again, they felt different.

She knew too much now. She knew that not all stars were kind. That somewhere out there, beneath one of those distant lights, someone dearly beloved was currently suffering. The galaxy wasn’t just an endless sea of possibility, but also of cruelty, of war, of people who would never come home.

Anxiously, her fingers curled slightly against the railing. She tried reaching for the Force, for some sense of guidance, some whisper of reassurance, but the night was quiet. The stars did not answer. Maybe they never had.

She swallowed hard and looked up again, trying, just for a moment, to see them as she once had; as a child, full of wonder. Full of hope. But hope was harder now.

And yet...

Her breath slowed.

Please, just give me something, anything...

A breeze stirred through the balcony, gentle but deliberate, as though something unseen had reached out to brush against her skin. A single faint wisp of cloud shifted overhead, revealing a star that had been hidden before; a small thing, almost imperceptible, but suddenly there. Eve blinked, watching it with unwavering attention.

She didn’t know if she believed in the same things she once had. But the stars were still here, and maybe — just maybe — they still represented some glimmer of hope.

 

[Everest Vale]

Some Weeks Later, After Ilum...


The sound of rushing water filled the vast chamber, an unending roar that seemed to deepen the silence within. Eve stood at the edge of the fountain pool, staring up at the cascading waterfall before her. The water plunged from above in an unrelenting torrent, crystalline and pure, crashing into the pool below with a force that sent ripples stretching outward. She took a slow breath. This was going to be different.

Stepping forward, she waded into the water, feeling its cool touch rise up her legs, past her waist, up to her ribs. The closer she got, the stronger the current became, tugging at her, urging her to turn back. She didn't. One more step, and then she was beneath it. The impact stole her breath instantly. The water pounded against her shoulders, a relentless weight pressing her down. It crashed over her head, smothering every sound, surrounding her in a world of endless motion. She clenched her jaw, steadying herself.

This wasn't like meditating in the gardens. This wasn't like sitting quietly in the archives. Here, there was no stillness; only the crushing weight of the falls, the unyielding force of nature itself. Her breath hitched as she fought to keep her focus. She had come here for clarity, for healing. But right now, all she could feel was the relentless push of the water, pressing, pressing, pressing... like the weight of everything she carried.

Her legs trembled, muscles burning as she struggled to stay upright. What if she wasn't strong enough for this? What if she never had been? She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to breathe through the chaos. She thought of Woostri, of Azzie's screams, of the helplessness in her chest. She thought of her mother. She thought of Valery's hand reaching for her on Ilum, the warmth of the crystal she had finally accepted.

She was here. She had survived. Slowly, breath by breath, she let go. Instead of resisting the water, she let it pass through her. Instead of bracing against the force of it, she allowed herself to move with it. The pressure was still there. The weight had not vanished. But it did not crush her anymore. Her breath slowed. Her mind cleared.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt the Force flow through her, not as something she had to reach for, but as something that had always been there.

 

[Everest Vale]

The room was dark, save for the flicker of candlelight already glowing in scattered pools across the floor of her dorm. Eve stepped quietly into the space, her footsteps soft against the smooth ground. In her hands, she carried two simple white candles. No inscriptions. No fanfare. Just small offerings of light for those who had fallen, by her hand, or despite it. She knelt slowly, placing the first candle with a reverent touch. Her eyes lingered on the flame as it caught, sputtered, then steadied into a small, unwavering glow.

"Private Michael Tanners..." she murmured. Her voice barely carried, but the name echoed in the room all the same. She didn't know much about him. Just a name, a rank, and that he was from Dantooine. He had been someone's son. Someone's friend, someone's lover. A protector. She bowed her head.

The second candle she held for longer. The wick untouched. She hadn't known this one's name. A Sith soldier. One who had raised a weapon, who had meant to kill, who had died in turn. But that didn't make them any less of a person. Eve closed her eyes and let the Force fill the space between her heart and the flame. She whispered nothing, just a breath, a quiet surrender of judgement. Then, at last, she lit it.

Side by side, the candles burned. A moment of stillness. Of grief. Of remembrance.

And Eve remained there, silent, letting the light speak for her.