She wandered, wraithlike, through the collapsed and dank remains of what had once been a glorious Academy for the Jedi. Around her the old stone crumbled, torn apart by weather and cruel war, now inhabited only by the long cold shades and shadows of what once was. The entire moon was now desolate, the one remaining sentient life form alone in her desolate wanderings, trapped in an unending cycle of painful rot. Everything was rotting: the once proud foliage around the old building collapsing into a murky swamp; while her once proud ideals were quickly absorbed by that same deep and inextricably lonely quagmire.
She had gone to Yavin Four for hope and even aid, desperate in her need for the mental strength of what once was if she was to continue her life and her battle. But no more did such things as hope reside in those ancient halls – only loss, fear and eternal destruction. The lone wanderer, often seeming no more than yet another phantom in the long dead building, drew her thick black cloak around her like a shroud as she gazed out of what once was a window, eyes seeing years of decay but mind registering nothing at all. She was alone, with nobody to turn to – nobody to save her if she were to just let herself slip into the silent bliss of insanity and then follow the cold call of death in this world of decay.
She almost thought that she could hear them calling her name as she stood there. Karaa… Their voices rang softly in the halls, muffled in the confused and fear-darkened recesses of her once valiant mind, but she flung them away. They were gone, dead, unable to help her now. Nobody could help her now.
Once they had stood together, brave and proud: Karaa with Seera and Devrin, the last three Jedi who stood alone against the gnawing, biting, and growing threat of the Empire. Together they had freed wretched slaves, killed cruel oppressors, and freed innocent prisoners. But it was an unending task: for every slave freed, two more were taken; for every oppressor killed, two more appeared. Battle after bloody battle the three appeared to aid what was right, coming and going in the shadows of the grim darkness that the Universe had fallen into, like three faceless wraiths. Nobody knew them and they knew and remembered nobody in the failing days.
Then there was the last battle. Three of the seemingly endless supply of Sith had come against them. Seera had been killed but had taken one with her; Devrin had killed the second; and the third had killed Devrin before Karaa could finish it off. And that left Karaa alone.
All the rumors had told her that the once powerful Jedi were gone, dead, killed by the Sith or made a part of the Dark Side of the Force. She had never believed it before: to her, the Jedi were strong; living and whole in their home here on the moon Yavin Four as they prepared for battle. But now it became apparent that she had always been so wrong and that they were truly gone. All her hopeful delusions of aid and final safety were shattered by this lonely swamp with made up all that remained of the Universe's past salvation.
She felt betrayed – scared – alone. Here she couldn't bear to reach for the Force that lay smoldering within her: the shades of long-dead Jedi so much greater than herself seemed to stay her mind. In turmoil and confused she walked slowly outside again, steps slow and thoughtful as she relished the feel of the warm sun trying to lift her failing spirits with the golden light. But she was already beyond return. The hard life of fighting and sudden loss of the only people she had truly loved had driven her beyond the point of no return and she stayed her steps at the outside of the once proud Academy for one last look at what should have been her salvation. Finally her steps took her on a wandering path into the gloom of the gnarled and decomposing trees.
That night she lay down to sleep for the last time, never again rising.
The Jedi were gone.