Prologue II
(8 ABY)
"Solah!" With the typical hiss, the red blade, close to the color of venous blood, retreated into the hilt. The small training remote deactivated and returned to the floor of the backroom, empty except for a lonely lounge chair in the far corner. In the stillness that descended upon the spacious room, Serina could hear the laughter of her children on the upper floor of her aunt's house. There was the clatter of dishes from the direction of the kitchen and the gruff voice of her uncle Kayv from the adjoining living room, as he discussed the latest developments of the New Republic with his wife.
With her mind, Serina reached for the small ball at the other side of their make-shift training room. Seconds later, it landed in her outstretched hand. For a moment, she stared at it, allowing the memories it evoked to flood her mind.
Yes, she had come a long way. What she accomplished today without even having to consciously concentrate on the Force was far beyond anything she had ever expected to achieve as a young girl. Honing her innate abilities to a point where she could employ them whenever needed, had at times been painful and sometimes even delightful, but telekinesis had never been her strength to start with.
And yet, along with many other abilities, she had been expected to master it.
Failure had never been an option with her master.
At times, it had been a rough and stony path, but it had been the path destiny had prepared for her.
