I consider it odd that I'm writing the end of an epic before the rest of it. But then again, it's not at all strange. After all, we only read something so we can reach the end. Do enjoy.
"There are no happy endings because nothing ever ends."
- Schmendrick the Magician, The Last Unicorn (Movie)
"My people are in the world again. No sorrow will live in my heart as long as that joy — save one, and I thank you for that, too. Farewell, good magician. I will try to go home."
- Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn (Book)
The sun was orange on Katarr that day. But then again, it was always in a perpetual fading, hidden behind clouds or mountains. Mira stood by the speeder, her lightsabers on her belt. She wore them with a certain amount of pride, especially the late Freedon Nad's which she had recovered from the Sith tomb on Dxun. Needless to say, both weapons were as orange as the huntress' mane. The garments of choice for the Mandalorian was a replication of Exar Kun's battle armor under green Jedi robes. Mira had never dropped the color green, it was doubtful she ever would. Sunlight gleamed off the bronze colored breastplate and brown leather boots.
Visas was next to her, in unusually casual clothes. Mira always had an image of Visas in purple and black, but the oracle had decided to change that. The Miraluka was still wearing purple, but it wasn't her robes; she was now wearing a loose dress the flowed off her and revealed her pale arms. Instead of a veil, Visas had now merely covered her scarred eyes with a decorated blindfold, emblazoned with twirls of gilded silk. The blind woman's violet, double-bladed lightsaber had been left in a compartment of the small speeder. Visas didn't like her daughter seeing it.
Despite this, Fynna K. Marr (the K was for Kreia, at her father's insistence before her birth; Fynna would never grasp the significance of this, though she would come close in her teenage years) had seen her mother use the lightsaber more than once. Her father and Revan's absence from the galaxy had allowed a certain number of Sith to slip in. Some of Fynna's earliest memories were of Brianna, Atton, Mira, and her mother protecting her from intrusive menaces.
Fynna was only seven years old, conceived barely a few days before the Exile left for Unknown Space. Her hair, a mixture of the black tangle that was her mother's and the cacophony that was her father's, had come out a smooth brown that she tied in a knot. Her father lent her his mouth, ears, and ability to laugh. The rest was the grace and slim looks of Visas; needless to say, she had her mother's eyes. Like Visas, she covered up the visual patches of skin with a blind-fold, tied in a thick knot. Where as Visas leaned toward purples and maroons, Fynna preferred sienna and teal. She also had a thing for silver; Visas always said it came from the Handmaiden.
Indeed, Brianna had taken Fynna under her dove wings numerous times. At first, the Handmaiden had loathed Visas for 'stealing' the Exile from her, regardless of the fact that the scarred Miraluka's 'seduction' consisted mainly of sitting quietly in the crew barracks and meditating. Brianna berated the former Sith with a coldness matched only by Atris and more or less verbal abuse. But, of course, things change. Sooner or later, the Handmaiden had experienced something close to an epiphany and came to terms with Visas. No doubt, it occurred when Brianna had to help Visas through her pregnancy, and even then, the temperamental Miraluka had not fought the Handmaiden's accosting. Besides, she had gotten that out of her system on Malachor…
After that, Fynna was raised by many of the companions of the Exile. Mira taught her assertion, Atton how to gamble and laugh, Bao-Dur how to create, the Handmaiden was her godmother more than even Mira, and Visas was the best mother she could be. Sometimes, that didn't feel like enough. The Sith that crawled in were always hunting any up-start Jedi reared their heads. One in particular, Alrize, had hunted Visas with a fury. He was dangerous; an unrecognized species with multiple eyes and the ability to sever the Force from an untrained adept like a weapon. He wielded a Bastard lightsaber: the first Sith to do so in over 300 years of recorded galactic history. The tremendous weapon had been all but abandoned by other Sith, but Alrize swung the massive crimson blade with ease. It took all of Visas strength to keep him at bay. But he crossed the line when he captured Fynna (then age five) and took her to Korriban. At that point, Visas actually went so far as to use Dark Side powers again and… Well it would be best to say things got ugly and Alrize stopped being a problem.
Alrize hadn't been the only Sith Lord to come from the Unknown Regions. Chaemal, a weapon master, stalked Atton; Eriu fought Mira at every turn with reckless abandonment and pyromania; the Handmaiden with Harap, and Force knows that Bao Dur proved himself most triumphant against Briagel. Each a Sith Lord intent upon the utter destruction of the Exile's friends and family. For ten years they had hunted each other, for ten years, in utter silence, the Lost Jedi had to save themselves and the galaxy. The task was made easier with some outside help; Yuthura Ban, Bastila, Michal, Atris, just to name a few. And now the storm was subsiding. Mandalore had disappeared with his kin once more. Brianna returned to the academy to resurrect the old order. Atton and Mira still traveled; it was what they did best, proving that the Jedi could still do good without laws. And Visas…she took Fynna by the hand and walked with her, trying to go back home and rest.
It was hard; some Miraluka were just accustomed to moving. And the two had been running so long, with so many friends… Could his return really make things right? Did any of them really want to rest? What were his eyes like? What color was his lightsaber? Did he really stand up to the whole Jedi council? Did he really fight an army of Sith on Malachor all by himself? Did he really try to save Kreia, up to the last? These were just some of the questions that passed through Fynna's lips when she was around her mother.
Fynna was a reserved child, another trait of her mother's. Around close friends she was comfortable and could talk, but otherwise she was cloistered. And complex, most definitely. She was already carrying a short lightsaber, like most younglings of the Jedi, but she also carried a security blanket. Atton said that she was the most 'screwed up seven year old' he had ever seen. It was bound to happen, anyway. Fynna was always on the prowl with her mother, and the whole of the galaxy had raised her. One couldn't look at her and not love her, in some way. But Visas outshone all affections; Fynna was Visas' little miracle.
For seven years, neither Fynna, nor the rest of the galaxy had seen her father. It broke a piece of Visas inside every day the Exile was gone. The galaxy gave its gifts though; Fynna brought more than enough joy, from her first words to her first steps. Then there was when the Miraluka on Alpherides heard that life was slowly coming back on Katarr, even if it was just one minute section. In a matter of days, a small colony of wandering Miraluka settled on Katarr. Visas just woke up one day and they were…there. Visas helped them for as long as she could before the Sith started chasing her; in return, Fynna was being raised as a Miraluka, and Katarr was home once more. The Force was creeping and blooming back, bit by bit, sector by sector, and tree by tree. It would take decades before even one section of Katarr recovered from the devastation of Nihilus, but it would happen, oh, it would happen with the sweat and strength and blood of hundreds to restore something resplendent.
And now Mira had brought Visas and Fynna to the outreaches of their little town for something very special. Mira scanned the horizon with a pair of binoculars, looking for something in the sky. A star fell on the very edge of the sunset. "Mira, the view is nice, but we really must be going. The ithorians have given us a proposal about crops and-" Visas protested before Mira interrupted, "What's your rush? Don't you work yourself enough? I honestly can't get over you, you know. Give birth, raise Fynna, kill some Sith Lords, start reviving Katarr, and when the time finally comes for some R&R, you want to work more! Chill, just a bit. Besides, I think you're going to like this…" The falling star Mira had been watching descended behind a very close hill. 'Oh yeah, make it hard for us.' Mira thought.
Visas prostrated herself like a wolf on alert. There was a noise in the Force…Different, maybe too different to be the one that sang to her. Fynna didn't hear anything. For the moment, she was watching the mild force auras of the grass and the insects playing and chirping their evening jubilations. They hypnotized her, and contented her. "Mira…What have you done?" Visas asked.
"Oh, you'll see. It's just past that little hill. Go on, I'll watch Fynna for you. Move!" Mira waved her hands towards the direction Visas should go. The oracle looked at Mira, than at Fynna. She walked over and kissed her daughter's head. Fynna looked up and smiled as Visas wrapped her arms tightly around the girl for a moment. Visas never wanted to let the little girl out of her sight after Alrize. Hence, she came off as a little over-protective. Mira smiled as Visas began to walk around the base of the hill, only moving up its slopes a little as to avoid some rocks.
On the other side, while Mira was convincing Visas to go, Fynn Noor, the Exile, said farewell to Revan. "Well, this is where you wanted. So, Katarr looks like it's healing well." Revan said.
"Yeah. I can remember when I first came here with Visas. We had a nice little spot in the town, next to the water…Home again, home again." The Exile rhymed.
"…Jiggity jig." Revan finished. The Exile smiled and asked, "Are you going to find Bastila?"
"Yeah. She'll probably tear my head off for leaving in secret. She wanted to come so badly; she'd be singing a different tune if she knew what we've been through."
"The dragon riders…"
"The Sons of Adas…"
"The Force ghosts. Oh, and don't forget all that lovely landscape! The volcanoes…
"The forests of darkness…"
"Dozens and dozens of caves."
"And the salt mines. It's just not a trip down memory lane without the salt mines."
"Pleading statement: Please master, do not remind us of that hellish excursion. It makes us quite content that droids do not dream when we shut down, lest we suffer nightmares." HK-47 protested from within the small, black ship the Exile and Revan had used to go home. The assassin droid had seen better days since he departed with the Exile. The majority of his red paint had weathered away, leaving only a few rusty splotches. The metal underneath gleamed and shined brightly whenever light hit the droid. As such, he had taken to wearing a large, heavy beige cloak. He found that it helped tremendously in his bodyguard duties for Revan; HK-47 merely disguised his droid body and covered his head. He would then travel about with the Exile and, with the aid of his vocabulator, mimic Revan from afar.
"Continuation: Indeed master, I would prefer if we leave the memory of those mines back with the burning corpses of the Sith Lord who hid there."
"Digression: Lord Amu had such a perverse hatred for droids." One of the HK-51s added. The most recent models of the HK series had been retrieved by HK-47 on Taris. They were exact replicants of their progenitor model, save for their black metal and blue eyes as opposed to the red and orange of the original. They had served the Exile and Revan well in their wanderings; they were completely loyal to HK-47, who was absolutely inseparable from Revan. Nine had gone with the Exile to the Unknown Regions; incredibly, only three had been destroyed. The HK-51s were resourceful constructs, even more so under the guidance of their parent.
"Yeah, good times." Revan mocked. There was a moment of silence as the Exile watched the landscape, half expecting Visas or the Ebon Hawk to swoop out of nowhere and greet him. But something felt wrong inside. They had…left. Given up. Quit. They shouldn't have; they should have stayed and fought to their very last breath. Force, why did he listen to Revan? It was the former Sith Lord that convinced him to go back. He should head back right now; just take the ship from Revan. But then…here was Katarr. And just beyond those hills was a little town, with a little Miraluka named Visas whom he loved for the entire world. A dramatic part of him wanted to say that he had loved her from the moment they met, but it would be more accurate to say that he started to fall for Visas several hours after they met. The first time they met she had tried to impale him on her lightsaber and pleaded for death.
"Something wrong?" Revan asked. "Do you think…that maybe this is wrong?" The Exile responded. "Oh, don't tell me you're thinking of going back."
"It just feels like we should do more."
"Look, old man, -"
"Hey! I'm only a few years older than you!"
"Whatever, just listen to me. If you really wanted to, we could go back, right now, leave everything behind, and do more work. And you want to know what that accomplish? Nothing. We already did as much as reasonably possible, and a little bit more for good measure. I'm going to tell you something Kreia told me. Well, the gist of it anyway. You can't change the galaxy, but you can make a dent."
"I know, but…"
"But what? You think we didn't do enough?"
"Well, yeah." There was another spell of silence before Revan said, "Yeah. You're right. We didn't. But we tried. We tried the best that we could. And I like to think, that we succeeded enough. Nine systems, Fynn. Count 'em, nine. We drove the True Sith from nine systems in a span of seven years, just you, me, and a bunch of droids and rebels to help. Are you telling me that that isn't enough for you?"
"I guess so." Revan sighed in discontent. "I guess it's just you. I leave the Mandalorian Wars and become a Sith; you leave and blow up Malachor V, twice, piss off the Jedi council, and learn to live outside the natural order of the whole galaxy. You just have to go all the way on things, don't you?"
The Exile chuckled, "Looks like it, huh?" Revan gave one last piece of wisdom, "You just need time to adjust. We're fighters, you and me. All we ever do is make war and fight. War on Mandalorians, war on Jedi, war on Sith, war on the republic, war on each other, war, war, war. It's going to be hard, I'll tell you now, but I think I'm looking forward to living without a fight for once. Maybe you should try and do the same. After all, didn't you say your sweetheart told you she was pregnant the day you left?"
"Yeah. Last trick to try and get me to stay. Almost worked, too. I wonder how they're doing… Do you think she'll recognize me?"
"Who?"
"The girl."
"How do you know it's a she?"
"I have a good feeling about it."
"In that case, definitely. Your hard to miss, especially for anyone, or thing, that sees the Force." More quiet ensued. Revan was just about to close the door and leave before the Exile asked his last question. "What do you think she would have done?"
"Who?"
"Kreia."
"Oh. I don't know. No doubt something complicated and twisted. Probably would have had us fight each other to the 'death', raise the loser and send him after the winner just to keep him on his toes."
"That sounds about right."
"…She was a good old dragon."
"Not good. Wise, smart, strong, but she wasn't good. She wasn't bad either, but she sure as hell wasn't good."
"It's how she wanted to be remembered. By the way, where did you bury her?"
"Dantooine. Somewhere near Vrook. I wanted to thank him for all his years of cheerful support." Revan laughed before saying, "Well, good luck to you. I think I might visit them, if Bastila doesn't kill me first. Good fighting with you." The Exile and Revan gave each other a brotherly hug before the Exile called out, "Come on, T3." The little astromech droid rolled out, battered and weathered from its travels. One of its lenses had been shot out and replaced with a green one. It 'beeped' and 'booped' in its musical voice before and emerged from the ship. "Take care of yourself, little guy." Revan asked. The droid stared at him and gave a tone of thanks. The HKs stayed silent; they hadn't grown any closer to T3-M4, and it was doubtful they ever would.
"Force be with you." The Exile said as Revan closed the door. "Ditto" the former Sith Lord said. The ship raised itself above the ground, and flew into the sky, back to the sea of stars. The Exile stared at the spot for a while, before he began to move towards the hills where, at that moment, Visas was coming. He had nothing to carry; everything he had brought had been used on the way. His silver double-blade lightsaber rested on his belt, as well several moleskin soft leather pouches that contained some goods. Some medical packs, some food containers, a few trinkets and maps, and numerous crystals. He moved up hills past sunlight, and down them through shadow. T3 rolled faithfully behind.
Visas rounded the next hill and there, she saw a figure coming. He wore Jedi robes, worn and covered in dirt and dust. A short beard was growing from a face that hadn't seen a razor for a long time, and his hair was unkempt and grown out. His eyes were gray and intense, while his hair was a dark blonde with strands of white coming through from stress and worry. But Visas could see him underneath the change, she could hear the echo in the Force she had heard on theRavager and fell in love with. Tears wanted to force themselves from her eyes, if she had any. Lifting up her skirt enough to mover her legs, Visas ran towards the Exile.
The Exile was only briefly aware of something violet moving towards him in a blur. He recalled how quickly Visas had moved in the caves on Korriban. And then, like a comet, she was on him, embracing him, intoxicating him in her sweet aroma. He felt her smooth, pale arms with his hand, felt the warmth of her body and blood from underneath her dress, and heard her rejoice in Miralukese, kissing him between every statement with a fast peck to make sure he was real. "My love! (Kiss) My love! (Kiss) My darling! (Kiss) You came back to me! You came back!" At this last statement, Visas, quite a girl out of joy, kissed the Exile once more. But this time, Fynn held on, his mouth firmly planted next to hers, lips and tongue exploring his beloved's. And for a while, they stood there, in an ecstasy reminiscent of before, feeling each other, tasting each other to make sure this was not some cruel dream that had plagued them before.
And Fynn Noor thought to himself, 'This is my love, this is her, and this is home.' He felt her arms, moving his own calloused hand up and down the smooth alabaster branches. His other hand gripped her waist, feeling her spine, her back, her shoulders, that he knew he could move, could make quiver. And she felt his hair, tangled and greasy. She didn't care that it was unclean, it was here, he was here, and that was all that mattered. His beard tickled her chin as she kissed him, and in time she drew away and laid her head on his shoulders. Visas still panted out, "You came back…you came back." Before she was silent, a smile on her red lips. He pet her hair, smoothing it, feeling it, remembering it flowing through his fingers the first time they made love. T3-M4 only pretended to be examining some plants.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, Visas looked at the Exile and asked, "Are you…are you here to stay?"
"For good this time." He reassured her. She smiled and quickly kissed him again before she took his hand in her own and said, "Come. I have something to show you." Visas pulled the Exile by the hand for a while, T3 behind, before she slowed and they walked side by side, her head on his shoulder. Fynn coyly asked, "Anything happen while I was gone?" Visas smiled, "You're joking right? Oh, not much…. some Sith Lords tried to kill us. That was…tiring. Some Miraluka have come to live on Katarr."
"Yes, I saw the lights on my way down. Is the planet healing all right?"
"Bit by bit, with some help. Atton and Mira got married."
"Really? How was the wedding?"
"Couldn't say. It was one of those five minute, drive through Nar Shadda weddings. I think they were both a little drunk when it happened."
"Somehow I imagined it would happen like that. Are they happy?"
"More so than usual, I would say."
"How are Brianna and Atris holding up?"
"Well enough. The order is still getting back up on its feet."
"Did, uh, Brianna ever…forgive you?"
"In time. I think she was forced to when she helped me through labor." It was here that the Exile made an unusual sound of shock before he could ask, "And uh, how… how is…she?"
"Fynna? Just wait until you see her. She's such a sweet child."
"Fynna? You named her after me? Is that some kind of Miraluka tradition?"
"It's only a tradition if you love somebody very much. Her full name is Fynna K. Marr. "
"What's the 'K' for?"
"Kreia."
"You're joking, right? I mean, when I said I thought we should name a child after her I didn't honestly think…"
"It's her name anyway. Besides, it hardly comes up. She's so quiet, most of the time."
The Exile thought for a while before he said, "You know, I guess it is a good name. Maybe it'll bring good luck or something like that. Do you think she'll like me?"
"She'll love you. She already does. I tell her stories about you right before bed, and she's always asking questions." The Exile sighed, "I just hope I can live up to her."
"You're worrying too much. Just calm down, she's just up here." Visas reassured. The moved past the hill where Mira had seen Visas depart. Mira saw the Exile and laughed. He looked so different now, so older with his beard and soft robes. He didn't look like he wanted to fight; he looked like he wanted to rest, and wanted nobody to take care of him except Visas. Mira whistled and waved. The Exile and Visas looked up and increased their pace a bit. Only Visas saw Fynna look up and with, like a rabbit to its den, hid behind Mira. She was just anxious about meeting the Exile as the Exile was about meeting her. Fynna always perceived her father as a legendary being, on the same rank as a Greater Krayt Dragon or a Sando Aqua Monster, something powerful, mythical, and larger than life. And now, here he, the legend, was, with her mother nearby. Needless to say, shy as she was, Fynna was a little scared.
The Exile was there at last. Fynna moved her head a little past Mira's robes, taking a peek of the Exile before retreating again. "Well if it isn't the old guy himself! Its good to see you back." Mira beamed. Inside she was overjoyed at his return, to the hope of the order and aid Fynn could bring. But she hid it well; there would be time for him to be smothered by friends and their happiness in time. She hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. The Exile said, "Hello Mira. How's my Padawan doing?"
"Don't call me that! I'll have you know that that's Master Mira now!"
"You know, you only got that title because you were one of the only Jedi left in the galaxy."
"Yeah,so?" The Exile smiled wider, "It's good to see you've kept your spirit."
"It's good to see you back. I like the beard. Maybe you should keep it."
"What, this? It's only here because I couldn't waste a good blade to shave it off. By the way, I hear you and Atton got married."
"Oh, that? It was just a quick thing. Too much juma juice, you know? Besides, we've barely had a moment to rest nowadays. The galaxy's a tough business."
"Any kids on the way?"
"Force no! I mean…we were thinking later, but for now, we still want to see a lot of the galaxy."
"And speaking of which, where is Fynna?" Visas asked. "Oh, I don't know…" Mira said, nodding her head back a bit, indicating the rear of her robe. Fast as a shadow, Mira moved to the side. Fynna was left exposed to the eyes of her parents. She took a quick gasp and hid behind Mira once more. Visas smiled and cooed, in a sweet voice of maternal pleading, "Fynna, sweetie, come and say hello to your father. Its okay, he's just been…away for a while." Fynna started to creep from behind Mira before the huntress said, "Go on, kiddo." Soon she stood before the Exile, looking up at him from behind her blindfold as the Exile looked down on her. At last, Fynna Marr and Fynn Noor were face to face.
There was a moment of awkward silence between the two that made Visas and Mira giddy inside. Here was Fynn Noor, the Jedi Exile, who had destroyed worlds in brutal wars, faced down armies of droids and Mandalorians, stood against Sith Lords and Jedi Masters alike, and right now, he was being laid low by a little girl, his own daughter no less. The silence continued, save for the chirping of insects and arachnids in the grass. Visas finally asked Fynna, "Well, you've never stopped asking questions about him, and now you don't have anything to say?"
Fynna turned a little shade of red before saying, "Hi." Quickly. The Exile was able to mutter out, "Um, hey." Before he rubbed the back of his head. He was finally able to say, "Look…I…I am your father, and I guess that doesn't seem right, I mean…Force, what I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For not being there. For you, or your mother. In all fairness, your mother only told me she was pregnant with you the day before I left, but still…I should have been there for you."
"It's okay. You're here now, aren't you? Here to stay?"
"Yeah, but that still doesn't make things right…"
"Don't be sad. I'm happy. Mommy and Aunt Mira are, too. So should you."
"Good point. How about this; you won't understand this now, but try to remember it. When you're a teenager and all angsty and independent, you can blame it on me free of charge. Just leave your mother out of it."
"Okay?" Fynna asked, puzzled. Mira was laughing and Visas was a tad bit annoyed at this, but there was too much happiness to worry about it now. Fynn bent down and looked at his daughter, her brown hair, her little nose, and her ophanhim face. And she looked at him, sensed him with her Force sight. He really was like her mother; there was a bright blue membrane, a flare like the heart of a sun, surrounding the hollow wound in the Force that was the Exile. Fynn asked, "Hey, do you like crystals?"
"Yes. I saw a cave full of crystals once. It was so pretty…"
"Than I think you might like this." Fynn reached into one of the sacks on his belt. He pulled out a small crystal, still in its earth base. It was clear, but smooth. He put it in the innocent hands of Fynna, and it turned teal in an instant. Fynna gasped with joy and wonder, "It's beautiful! How did it change colors like that?"
"It attuned itself to you. You see, this crystal is special; this one's alive. It needs you to take care of it, and nurture it so it can grow up."
"So it's a silicon object?"
"A- how did you even learn that word?"
"Uncle Bao told me about them. I asked him if droids had hearts and he started to talk in big words about complicated stuff. Then he started talking about what makes an 'organic' and what makes 'life'. All I remember is that he said that there might be animals out there that don't live like we do, that are alive and move even though they don't breathe or eat or drink or sleep. After that, I kind of got sleepy…"
The Exile chuckled at the last part, "Yeah, that happens to everybody the first time he starts talking droid. I remember the first time I met him, I barely understood a word he said."
"Um…Daddy (Fynna paused for a moment, trying to let the word adjust to her mouth), what was it like when you and Mommy first met?"
"Well, that's kind of a long story and-"
"And I'm sure he'd love to tell you, sweetheart." Visas broke in. "We'll take a walk, and he can start, anyway." Visas moved over and took her daughter's hand. Fynn got up and uneasily extended his hand, as his daughter likewise gripped his fingers. The Exile looked at Mira and she said, "Go on, I'll be right here when you get back." And at that, Fynn Noor took his first steps as a father, as a man of his family. Fynna stood between the Exile and Visas, and Fynn said, "Come on, my little miracle."
"You call me that too? Why?" Fynna asked. Fynn awkwardly explained, "Well, you see, a long time ago, not too far from here, I'd say, some people did things to your mommy and me. And we thought that we would never have children because of it. We tried (at this, the Exile awkwardly coughed and flushed), but nothing happened. Then, one day, you were just there in your mommy's tummy, waiting to be born. We were so happy, and so sad because we wouldn't see each other for a while. And do you want to know something?"
"What?"
"If it wasn't for you and mommy, I probably never would've come home. So you are a miracle; you gave me a reason to go on." Fynna was beaming; she didn't really grasp what her father had just said to her, but she began to feel the love between them. "So how did you and mommy meet?" Fynna asked once again. And the Exile began to say, "Well, it all began way back, with two knights named Revan and Malak…"
And Mira watched the happy trio move around the surface of Katarr. She sat on the speeder, happy for the Exile, for Visas, for Fynna; things were how they should be. And neither she, nor anyone else could know, that Fynna and Visas were just the beginning of a long line of powerful Miraluka, a line that would end in one so great he would make Nihilus and Traya pale in comparison of the power he could command. And Jerec would be his name.
But for now, the three looked to the bright future ahead of them. They would have their rough spots; Fynna would go through a dark phase where she sympathized with the Sith, much to her mother's outrage and discontent. This would be followed by a revived zealotry for the elder Jedi and their arrogant irrefutability, much to the discontent of her father who, true to his word, blamed himself. Visas, at this point, was just glad that the Sith stage was over. After a while, followed closely by some of Kreia's wisdom passed by Fynn, she would walk a steady path of light and jubilation. And in the end, Fynna would become a great Jedi Knight among the Miraluka, a templar of the Force and dreadnaught of Katarr.
That was in the future though. Right then, there were no three happier people on the surface of Katarr, walking to the welcoming chorus of evening sounds. And soon, they would go home to the smells of dinner and the sounds of music. And Fynn Noor would tuck his daughter into bed, a kiss her gently on the head before she would drift to sleep. The Exile would go to his own bed, to make a soft love to his wife, and then the two would fall asleep in each other's arms. Then they would wake up, and begin their first day as a family. At this point, it could be said they all lived happily ever after, but that is a lie, and a poor one at best. Because, when it comes down to it, there really are no happy endings, because nothing ever ends.