You awoke in the verdant glade once again, and you sighed, your eyes catching sight of the white Indoraptor coming toward you with bounding strides. "Damn it, Nyx, you're going to make us work harder than we ever have," she complained, her tone a mix of exasperation and affection.

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound bubbling up from within, a stark contrast to the darkness that had consumed you before. Here, in this place of peace, the weight of the world seemed just a little lighter.

Her smile was a gentle curve of understanding, and with a playful nudge, she brought a moment of lightness to the glade. "I never told you my name, did I?" she inquired, her voice tinged with a hint of mischief as she sniffed curiously around you.

You laid down, shaking your head to clear it, the fresh scent of the grass filling your nostrils, grounding you in this serene afterlife. "Well, in any case, my name is Seven," she revealed, her tone carrying the weight of an introduction long overdue.

As she tended to a scratch that had followed you into this realm, her tongue brushed against your skin, prompting a sharp wince as the sting of it caught you off guard. She winced in sympathy, her eyes softening. "Sorry about that, but it needs this to heal," she murmured, her concern evident.

You nodded, accepting the necessity of the pain for the promise of healing. Curiosity piqued, you asked, "Go on, where are the others?"

The question hung between you, an invitation to unravel more of this mysterious afterlife you found yourself in, with Seven as your unexpected guide.

Seven's gaze swept across the lush expanse of green, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Well, they are taking care of this garden of life. And no, you're not dead yet, but you're very near it, though," she explained, her voice carrying the solemn truth of your precarious state between worlds.

With a graceful step back, Seven shook herself, droplets of concern flinging from her coat. "I better go to the river to clean myself; your blood tastes disgusting," she remarked with a playful grimace.

Your response was a hearty, unrestrained laugh that echoed through the glade like the joyous sound of life itself—a stark contrast to the somber reality of your situation. It was a laugh that spoke of resilience, even in the face of the unknown.

"Thank you, Seven, and thank your sisters, too," you said with a sense of gratitude that seemed to fill the very air around you.

She nodded, a silent promise conveyed in the gesture. "We will." With that, she bounded off, leaving you alone to stare at the birds that playfully darted between the gnarled branches above. Beyond you, peace settled over your spirit for the first time in what felt like an eternity, but it was tinged with the ache of missing your friends—Anakin, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Rex, all of the clones you knew. All of this chaos had been unleashed just because of that fiend Palpatine. You vowed silently that when you became a ghost, you would haunt his life forever.

A snort from the bushes interrupted your thoughts, and the white-winged wolf stepped forward. "You will not be a ghost if we can help it, Nyx. Your friends need you," she said, settling down at your side, her tail folding neatly over her forepaws.

"How are they?" you asked, a flicker of concern passing through you.

She shrugged, one wing spreading out to catch the sunlight, revealing feathers where you expected only the bleak black skin that made up your own wings. "They're doing fine. The beast has already been taken down."

Your heart clenched at the news. You hadn't wanted the Zillo Beast to die, but you supposed that after its attack on Coruscant, that was the inevitable outcome. It was a harsh truth to swallow, another burden to bear in a life that seemed full of them.

"When will I go back?" you inquired, a thread of urgency weaving through your words.

The wolf simply shrugged. "Whenever you're healed enough," she replied, her voice carrying the patience of one who understands the slow and often invisible process of mending what's broken.

You blinked, lifting your snout to study your own body, searching for signs of recovery. The wolf sighed, a sound that seemed to carry both amusement and wisdom. "I meant in your soul and mental ability, dummy," she chided gently, flicking your ear with her tail in a playful reprimand.

"You'll need to stay here quite some time if that's ever going to happen," she added, settling into the truth of the matter. Healing was more than skin deep; it was about restoring the essence of who you were before the scars of battle had marred your spirit.

"But don't worry," she said softly, her voice a soothing balm to the uncertainty that clouded your heart. "Me and my sisters will be here with you every step of the way, and we can finally get to know each other more than just brief visits whenever you die."

Her words offered comfort, a promise of companionship and guidance through the labyrinth of recovery that lay ahead. It was an assurance that in this place between life and death, you were not alone, and perhaps, in time, these ethereal bonds would grow stronger than any forged in the mortal realm.

"What is this place?" you asked, your gaze sweeping across the expanse of greenery and life that stretched endlessly before you.

The white wolf smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes. "It's called the Promised Land. This is what the humans always looked after—your little Eden, you could say, just a lot bigger and with no god to watch over it. Here, we are ourselves, and we govern ourselves," she explained, her voice imbued with a sense of freedom and self-reliance.

She spread her swan-like wings and stood up gracefully. "Well, I better be off. Hunting with Moonwhisper takes precedence right now," she announced, preparing to depart.

But you reached out, claws gently pulling at her wing. "Wait, what's your name?" you asked, a hint of urgency lacing your words.

She turned back to you with a smile as warm as the sun-dappled glade around you. "Name's Skyfall. Nice to meet you, Nyx," she said, and then she took off, soaring into the sky until she became nothing more than a white speck against the vast blue canvas above.