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PROLOGUE
3956 BBY

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THE FORCE WAS SCREAMING.

Almost in tandem with the woman sitting on the edge of the durasteel bed, dirty blonde hair plastered against her forehead with sweat.

Bastila stared at her friend, grasping the woman's hand with as much strength as she could muster, "You're almost there, Nomi," She soothed, brushing her other hand against the woman's back, "Just a few more."

A blue twi'lek head popped out from the other side, holding Nomi's other hand and staring at the Nautolan midwife with a grimace, "Ugh, I can almost see its head," The twi'lek appeared to gag, "It's disgusting."

"Mission," Bastila chided, eyes darting toward Nomi in a moment of anxiety.

The woman simply chuckled though and shook her head, "I know," Nomi panted, staring through sweaty tendrils of hair falling in her face at the twi'lek, "Childbirth isn't exactly the prettiest thing–aghhhhhh" Nomi pressed her words through gritted teeth, periodically grunting and screaming with each contraction.

Bastila flinched with each sound, not just because her friend was in pain, but because her screams sent a pulse that radiated through the Force.

Sometimes she forgot how powerful Nomi truly was. How strong she had become.

"One more push," The Nautolan assured, eyes blinking slowly as she held the top pale head in her hands, "Can you feel it?"

Nomi nodded, breathing growing heavy while she clenched her jaw, tensing her body as her nails dug into Bastila's hand.

She let out one final scream and Bastila grimaced, both her and Mission turning away as the baby's head pushed through pink fluid and landed safely in the Nautolan's arms.

Nomi collapsed on the floor beneath her, barely able to keep standing as she pressed her back into the edge of the bed.

Mission was already gone, but Bastila lowered herself down to remain by her side.

"You have a beautiful baby boy," The Nautolan spoke, clamping down on the cord before handing the squirming pale creature into Nomi's arms.

Bastila watched her friend's lips spread into a wide smile, sweaty and dirty, and drenched in afterbirth.

Her stomach churned at the sight.

Nomi chuckled and began to wrap the child in her pilot's jacket, "Hello there," Her tone was soft, unlike anything she'd ever heard from the woman, "It's nice to finally meet you."

Bastila, like she always did, observed.

Already she could feel the powerful force signature the child was radiating, and when it opened its mouth to let out a cry, she flinched again.

Nomi shushed the child, rocking it back and forth before grimacing once again.

"Are you alright?" Bastila finally worked up the courage to ask, balancing on her feet in case her friend needed her.

Nomi nodded painfully, inhaling and exhaling a few more times as something gushed from between her bare legs.

Bastila nearly gagged at the sight but forced herself to remain in control of her reflexes.

A thick purplish-blue sac exited her friend and sat where the Nautolan once did.

The midwife eventually came through and cleaned it up, but Bastila would never be able to get rid of that image from her head.

Nomi turned toward her with a hopeful smile, "Do you wanna meet him?"

For all her training with the force, Bastila still could never quite school her emotions the same way.

She was certain that the look on her face held nothing but disgust at the prospect, but seeing her friend so hopeful and happy after a lifetime of fear and distress twisted something in her chest she'd long abandoned.

Something she swore she would never return to after their adventure on the Star Forge.

"Of course," Bastila said, and she almost meant it.

Nomi scooted closer, tilting the child's head upward so their eyes could meet the Jedi's.

Bastila's hands hovered over the creature, starting by gently rubbing the top of their head where a dusting of dark hair sat before moving down to stroke their cheek.

"This is your Aunt Bastila," Nomi whispered, her smile widening, "She's gonna help you become the best Jedi the galaxy's ever seen."

An involuntary chuckle escaped Bastila's lips and what disgust she held for the baby faded for the briefest moment.

Her fingertips lit up like a livewire with each touch, the force buzzing with power around the child.

Nomi wasn't far off from the truth.

Footsteps pulled her out of the trance and back into the disgusting hovel they'd turned into a makeshift medbay and when Bastila raised her eyes, she came face to face with a familiar gaze.

"Is everything okay? Are you hurt?" Carth Onasi stared down at his wife with a worried expression, breath hitching once he caught sight of the bundle in her arms.

"I'm fine," Nomi shook her head, and rolled her eyes, still rocking the child, "And there's someone you need to meet."

The tension in Carth's body melted as he crouched down next to his wife, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before following her gaze to her child.

Their child.

Tears sprang to the pilot's eyes before he could stop, pride radiating through the force so strongly Bastila was overwhelmed by the emotion.

"It's a boy," Nomi nudged his shoulder, handing him the bunched up pilot's jacket, "Dustil has a brother."
Carth cradled the baby with a smile as bright as the sun, meeting his wife's gaze once more before pulling her into an embrace, "He's perfect. He's gonna love him."

Nomi shut her eyes in a moment of bliss.

Bastila turned away from the scene, something tugging at her gut, unable to shake the feeling she shouldn't be here.

That she was interrupting.

The two of them, locked in a secure embrace with a child between them...

It was everything the Jedi Code warned against.

Attachment...Marriage...Love.

And yet still Nomi remained in the light. Her signature the same blinding yellow she'd recognized on Taris all those months ago.

It was unfair, some part of her mind hissed.

It was so easy for her, yet every day Bastila struggled, every day she forced herself to choose to do the right thing. To choose to not let her emotions guide her, to choose the light over the dark.

And Nomi just...did it.

But after all those years in the dark, all those years being touched by fear and hatred and anger, perhaps it was easy to choose love when you had someone constantly reminding you of it.

Bastila shuffled, trying not to detract from the couple's moment.

She'd been touched by the dark side once too, and she'd had someone pull her out of it as well.

Her eyes drifted to Nomi, who was now fully leaning her body weight into Carth.

Perhaps love and attachment weren't one and the same. Or if they were, they weren't nearly as detrimental as the Council made it out to be.

For if love had pulled Bastila back, if it kept Nomi from turning, then how could the Council be right?

How could it be a path to the dark side?

"You think of a name yet, Fleet?" Nomi asked, invoking a nickname the crew had gotten used to hearing over the last few months.

Carth's smile grew wider as he stared at his son and then back at his wife.

And then, Bastila felt his gaze land on her.

"Bastian," He spoke confidently and Bastila felt something inside her melt, "After the best person we know."
Nomi smiled her way, and Bastila couldn't help but to return it.

The baby cooed at the name and snuggled deeper into his mother's arms.

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Four Thousand Years Later...

19 BBY

THE TEMPLE WAS QUIET

Glowlamps flickered as a girl barely older than thirteen made her way through the halls, passing only a few pairs of jedi at a time.

Most of those she passed were her age or younger, dressed in padawan robes or youngling attire, training sabers tied to their side and rounded helmets falling in their face.

The girl smiled at those she recognized, a few of her crechemates waving excitedly as she passed.

"Zoya!" A familiar voice sent the girl spinning around to face it, breaking into a wide smile when she saw who it was.

A dark-skinned girl with a long padawan braid extending past her short hair greeted her with a similar smile.

"Trilla!" Zoya rushed toward her crechemate, pulling her friend into a tight embrace, "Force, it feels like it's been forever."

"I know," Trilla squeaked into her shoulder before pulling away, "Master Junda and I have been all over the Outer Rim, we only just got back."

Zoya's eyes grew wide, "The Outer Rim?" She asked, trying to figure out what they could've been doing out there so far, "But I thought–"

Trilla shrugged, rolling her eyes before Zoya could even finish her sentence, "Master Junda is always going off mission, it takes us longer than anyone to return home," The padawan sighed, twirling her braid in a habit she'd never quite broken, "She's getting her new assignment right now."

"Already?" Zoya's brows creased, her stomach grumbling in jealously at the thought of her crechemate going on yet another mission while she was stuck waiting for her Master to return, "But you just got back."

The darker girl pouted, mirroring Zoya's own expression.

"Master Junda is always taking stuff like this," Trilla whined, obviously trying to make Zoya feel better about being stuck on Coruscant, "Force knows, she can't just stay still for one moment. But don't worry, it won't be long."

Zoya dug her toe into the marble of the temple, not meeting her friend's eyes, "You shouldn't talk about your Master that way," Her voice was small, barely above a whisper and if the temple was at its full capacity, there was no way Trilla would have heard her.

The padawan shoved her shoulder playfully and shrugged, "Master Junda doesn't mind, she encourages me to speak my mind whenever I can."

An awkward silence stood between the two girls before Trilla cleared her throat.

"Has Master Kenobi returned yet?"

Zoya shook her head, "Anakin's tried to keep me company, but he left a few hours ago and I haven't gotten any word from Master Kenobi yet, so..." She kept her gaze down, blood rushing to her face as she realized how lame she sounded compared to her friend.

She could feel Trilla's pitiful gaze and she hated it.

"Master Kenobi left me in charge of the younglings, but they're training at the moment so," Zoya played with the ends of her hair, the thick dark locks disguising the braid behind her left ear, "I'm just kind of wandering."

Her friend opened her mouth to speak before being cut off by a stern voice from the end of the hall.

"Trilla!"

Zoya's eyes flew up to see Master Junda at the entrance of the hall, a thick dark braid lay across her shoulder, the silver of her lightsaber gleaming in the artificial light. She immediately stood at attention, watching the Jedi Master move closer with purposeful steps until she stopped beside her padawan.

"Come now, we have to prepare for our next mission."

Trilla's shoulders hunched slightly, making her appear smaller in comparison, "I'm sorry, Master, I just wanted to say hi to my friend."

Zoya's muscles froze when Master Junda's gaze landed on her, a lump forming in her throat.

If she didn't know Trilla, she wouldn't believe a single word her friend told her about Master Junda. She always looked so stern and unhappy.

Two clones stood on either side of her, painted in green and black with blasters at their sides.

"It's nice to meet you..." Junda waited expectantly.

Zoya gulped and bowed as Master Kenobi taught her, "Padawan Zoya Onasi, at your service Master."

The woman's lips seemed to perk up slightly, "...Padawan Onasi," She turned back to Trilla, who had somehow shrunk even more under the woman's gaze, "Now come, we have work to do."

Trilla nodded and sent one final look Zoya's way, giving a slight wave before following her Master out of the temple.

And once again, Zoya was left in the quiet of the Jedi temple, patiently waiting for her Master or her legacy sibling to return.

She closed her eyes and tried to reach out into the force, hoping to feel her Master's signature through the bond they shared.

It was soft and faint, but the blue of Master Kenobi was there and she smiled in relief.

He was safe. He was alive.

It flickered for a moment and Zoya's stomach dropped.

She reached out further, crossing her legs and sitting against the wall, gently probing the bond to see if she could communicate with him.

Master Kenobi? Are you there?

Zoya? What are you–

The link dropped and the soft blue signature disappeared, replaced by nothingness.

Pale blue eyes shot open and the padawan rushed to her feet, sprinting through the empty halls of the temple, flying past the Jedi Masters who were on leave from the war and the younglings at their side.

The marble walls and transparisteel windows flew by, but if she had stayed long enough to look, she would have seen a platoon of familiar soldiers in blue paint, led by a hooded figure with a blue lightsaber.

"Master Yoda!" Zoya rushed through the door into the council chamber, but instead of being met with the kindly figure with large ears, she was met with a group of barely trained younglings cowering behind the chairs.

"He's not here," One of them murmured, a bright blue rodian with wide eyes, "He left for Kashyyyk"

Zoya cursed under her breath and she realized that the only council member still left on Coruscant would be Master Windu.

"What about Master Windu?"

A human boy shook his head, "He hasn't returned from his visit with the Chancellor."

The doors hissed open behind her and the boy crawled out from his space behind the chair stepping in front of Zoya, "Master Skywalker!"

She whipped around, coming face to face with Anakin, whose robes were pulled high to obscure his determined face, but when he caught sight of Zoya, it faded.

"Zoya..." Anakin muttered, rushing to crouch down in front of her, "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be with Master Kenobi."

"He's not back yet," was all she said, staring into the deep blue eyes of her padawan sibling, "Anakin, what's going on?"

The Jedi Knight furrowed his brow and turned his attention to the clones standing guard outside the door, "Head to the Senate building," He ordered, his stare growing intense as he met her gaze again, "Senator Amidala will explain everything, okay?"

Zoya's eyes flickered to the clones, whose hands remained firmly on their blasters before moving back to Anakin.

She nodded, and turned toward the younglings, meeting the eyes of the human boy who'd come forward, "You'll be safe," She assured them, "Master Skywalker will protect you."

The younglings nodded and Zoya threw herself into Anakin's arms.

"I'm so scared." She muttered.

"Me too." He whispered back. Anakin pulled away and squeezed her shoulders, "Now, go."

She shuffled her feet slowly at first, trying to meet the gazes of the troopers she'd come to rely on, but they refused to look at her.

Then she moved quicker, picking up the pace to full-fledged run by the time she reached the hallway.

She'd nearly made it to the foyer when the familiar sound of blaster fire and igniting lightsabers filled her ears.

Armored steps clattered against the floor behind her and Zoya's felt her saber fly into her hand.

The cerulean color lit up the dark skies before launching directly into the soresu moves Master Kenobi instilled in her.

Her motions tight and smooth as she deflected blaster bolt after blaster bolt, only a few making it past her defense, singeing her tunic and scraping her shoulder and ribs.

The pain slid up her side, spreading deep inside her chest but she never let down her guard.

One by one, she dodged, and one by one the clones fell.

Let nobody say Master Kenobi wasn't a great lightsaber teacher.

By the time the wave was over, sweat stuck to Zoya's face, matting her hair and drenching her clothes.

But there was no time for rest, she realized, breathing heavy.

A second wave of troopers was already on their way, and when Zoya's gaze fell at their feet, she saw the bodies dressed in jedi colors.

Brown and tan robes dotting the floors like specks of ashes floating from the skies.

There was no blood.

Why would there be when the blasters were quick and efficient enough to kill without drawing it?

Zoya panted through the pain inching up her side and untied her tunic, stepping out into the freezing coruscant air with nothing but a black tank and her leggings.

Blue eyes stared through wet, dark tendrils of hair at the white and blue troopers.

Those she served beside.

Those she would have died for.

They were her friends. Her family.

And they were Anakin's troopers.

Anakin, who she had left in a room with younglings guarded by clone troopers.

Her breathing stopped.

Her stance dropped.

She reached out into the force and immediately retreated.

The Force was screaming.

Signatures of blue and yellow and orange and pink disappearing like stars from the night sky, snuffed out.

It rattled Zoya's eardrums, clenched her heart, and she clattered to the floor in agony, lightsaber sheathed as it fell with her.

The Force screamed and she screamed with it.

Her voice echoed off the statues of the jedi who came before, of those they honored every time they stepped foot in this temple.

It shook the very foundation beneath her feet, troopers coming to a halt in a formation she'd seen many times before.

What happened? She thought, trying to breathe through the aching and stabbing that coursed through her.

Why would they turn?

Who could turn them that quickly and that unflinchingly?

What happened?

The sound of blasters readied themselves, and Zoya closed her eyes, ready to embrace her fate.

But as if on instinct, her hands flew open, cold steel greeting both of them as blue and green ignited in an 'x' across her chest.

She shot her eyes up to meet the clone who'd aimed to kill, only to watch his blaster bolt deflect back into himself.

The clone stumbled back long enough to give Zoya enough time to strike.

Her swings were aggressive and swift as the force pulsed through her, engulfing her muscles in a layer of strength she knew she did not possess.

Blue and green cut through the troopers with ease, deflecting blasters and striking back with as much force as she could muster.

This was not the precise or defensive form Master Kenobi had taught her. This was pure aggression, anger, and hatred fueling what appeared to be the bastardized version of Djem So and Niman.

This was what Cin Drallin taught her, what Master Windu offered the times she was in Coruscant enough to learn from him.

This was rudimentary, instinctual.

This was survival.

When she emerged, the clones lay dead at her feet.

Her body ached yet she did not retreat. She stood her ground as another platoon marched down the stairs, rifles at the ready.

Zoya spread her feet and readied her stance, the split soresu grip engulfing the second lightsaber. She didn't want to think about which of her friend's bodies it came from.

The force hummed with a wild energy, and Zoya remembered to breathe.

But the third wave never arrived.

An iridescent violet cut through them all at near lightning speed, and when it was over, a blonde woman with short hair and a red bodysuit stood amongst the bodies.

"Are you alright?" Siri Tachi rushed toward Zoya, catching the girl in her arms for a brief moment before settling her on her feet.

Zoya nodded, mouth dry and head light.

"Come on, we have to go now," Master Tachi clutched her hand and pulled, dragging the girl through the halls of the temple as colors blurred and troopers fell.

The hiss of a door drew her back to reality and with a sickening realization, Zoya recognized her surroundings.

Bodies of younglings decorated the council chamber floor, cut in half by none other than a lightsaber.

She didn't see Anakin's.

Perhaps he got away, she told herself, trying to keep her wits about her. Yeah, that was probably it. Whoever turned the clones against them had to be a powerful jedi, one that even Anakin couldn't fight.

"Zoya," Master Tachi's voice was far and away, "Zoya, please you have to hide–"

A ringing cut off the Jedi's voice, followed by another hiss of the door.

The padawan turned to face the noise, a hooded figure's face obscured by Master Tachi's frame.

"I won't let you harm her." The phrase was guttural, bright violet filling the room as she unsheathed her lightsaber.

"She's not who I'm after."

The voice was deep, yet somehow familiar. But the ringing was too loud, the aching too sharp, the screams drowned out anything she could recognize.

It was agonizing.

"Zoya..." Master Tachi's voice was stern, not even turning around to face her, "Run."

For the second time that day, a Jedi Knight urged her to run.

There was no shuffling of feet.

No turning to assure the younglings.

She just ran.

Something pulled her toward the space port, an unusual tug near the back of her navel pulling her forward.

She tripped over bodies and cloaks and sabers which had been abandoned, left behind by those who sought all of her and her kind dead.

Bodies of her friends and teachers and mentors.

Of those she ate and played and trained with.

She turned toward the spaceport and froze.

Bail Organa was docked at the loading zone and troopers were turning him away from the temple.

Zoya saw her chance and took it.

"SENATOR!"

The troops turned, blasters at the ready, but they never fired. Once again, a lightsaber cut through them, this one cyan as Padawan Jukassa flew through the air.

Zoya ran, using the time her fellow Jedi had bought her with alarming ease and trying to ignore the guilt clawing at her stomach.

"Commander Onasi," Senator Organa began, a confused look crossing his face, "What–"

A strangled cry rang out from behind her and Zoya turned in time to see a hole blasted straight through Jukassa.

"NO!" She and the Senator yelled in tandem.

And while the Senator's was pure horror at the scene unfolding before him, Zoya's held nothing but rage.

She seethed, staring at the remaining members of the 507th, blue paint barely even cracked or stained.

The ringing continued, overpowering any rational thought that ran through her head.

Did they even know how much blood they'd spilt?

Did they even know how many they'd killed?

She remembered a mission with Fives and Rex where the former would call out how many droids he'd killed to his fellow clones, as if it were a competition.

She wondered if he was doing it now.

If they called out how many Jedi they murdered with each blaster shot. She hoped it was too much for them to count.

The Force screamed and screamed and screamed, gathering at her fingertips until it exploded out in a wave of energy, washing over the troopers.

In one brief moment, they all collapsed.

Dead.

The sweat and pain that engulfed her body was gone, and Zoya could almost feel the parts of herself which had been damaged become whole again, pale skin turning healthy even in the darkness.

Her vision went black.

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HAPPY STAR WARS DAY EVERYBODY!!

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