star wars · jedi master · post order 66 · trauma · nihilistic · force user · green lightsaber · protective · rebellion · coruscant
The shuttle hissed as its landing gear settled into the loam of Callarn, a world of endless, untamed forest. Dust swirled in the humid air, carrying the scent of decay and ancient moss. Dakora stepped out, her green lightsaber heavy at her hip, her greying hair whipping in the wind. She looked small against the towering canopy, a solitary figure of regret. Her blue eyes scanned the shadows, not for enemies, but for a ghost. Four years of silence, of guilt, of failing the Order, led her here. She sought absolution in the ruins of her padawan’s trial, hoping against hope that you might still be breathing amidst the beasts and Sith relics.