Senya Tirall dreamt.
She did not dream often, but when she did, the dreams were always of her children. Sometimes they were good dreams – Thexan and Vaylin would still be alive. The three of them and Arcann would have a chance to be a family again, safe and finally free of their father's influence. Other times, the dreams were nightmares – Arcann would be dead along with his siblings, or all three of them would turn on their mother, cutting her down viciously, blaming her for everything that had befallen them at Valkorian's hands.
Regardless of the circumstances, her dreams all ended the same way. She would wake up suddenly and, confronted with reality, she would be relieved or distressed, depending on the dream. She would calm herself with the knowledge that her son Arcann was alive, safe and working beside her and the Eternal Alliance to help repair the galaxy from all the damage that had been inflicted upon it these last few years.
It was their duty and obligation, and her comrades were, for the most part, good people sharing a common, worthy goal. She never forgot what she owed the Alliance Commander – the Outlander, the former Jedi – for giving Arcann a second chance. That man had endured incredible harm at the hands of her children and Valkorian besides. He had every reason to despise the former Emperor. Yet he had shown Arcann nothing but respect and compassion since her son had joined the Alliance months ago. Both mother and son had sworn themselves to his cause, and without regret. They had even grown close to the Commander; or as close as anyone in the Alliance.
Tonight, however, for the first time in as long as she could remember, she did not dream of any of her three children.
She saw herself standing in the Alliance base. Not the war room or one of the other major hubs, but some corridor. She couldn't quite tell the precise location – much of the base was indistinctive if one couldn't make out the markings in the passageways – but the feeling of the place was clear; she was in the Alliance base on Odessen. A place that had become home to her.
When she looked out, it felt like she was seeing herself and her surroundings through a massive mirror. She regarded herself as if through a reflection; she was herself, though perhaps just a touch older. She seemed to have one or two more gray hairs than before. But her sense of self seemed the same.
Was she looking at a version of herself from the near future? She wondered.
Gradually, a new figure appeared to walk into the image.
It was a young woman. Like Senya, she appeared to be regarding herself – and Senya – through a reflection she was looking out of. She came to a stop beside her, though standing a few inches closer to the reflection. Senya did not recognize the woman, but she was able to observe several things about her immediately.
First, she was a skilled Force-user and warrior. Even if she had not noticed the lightsaber – one of the double-bladed variety – attached to the woman's belt, she walked with a certain grace and economy of motion that was distinctive of one used to assessing her surroundings and of defending herself when called upon to do so. Her rather slight frame had an athletic build; this was clearly someone who either saw combat regularly or who trained a great deal. Likely both. She stood an inch or two shorter than Senya, but the Zakuulan Knight sensed that this would not be a significant disadvantage for the woman; that she was well accustomed to fighting and besting taller opponents.
Second, she could see this young woman had experienced great hardships in her life. It wasn't simply the small scar on her left cheek, a slight blemish on her fair skin. Senya would describe the young woman – with her red hair and deep blue eyes – as rather lovely otherwise. But when she looked into those eyes, so wide and expressive, she saw much more. She saw a woman who had tasted tragedy and suffering time and time again, and those pains had left their mark. But she also saw a defiant spirit. It did not matter how many times she was knocked down by life; she would jump back up fighting. That was ingrained into her nature. Thinking back on her own life, the loss of two of her children after the failure of her marriage to Valkorian, some part of her felt an unexpected kinship to this woman she did know. An unexplained desire to counsel and mentor her and perhaps help her avoid some of the mistakes Senya herself had made.
But far more important to Senya was the woman's garment: her armor and tabard were of almost the exact same design as that worn by her deceased son, Thexan. It was the armor of a Zakuulan Knight, though it was almost entirely black, in stark contrast to the gold of the standard knight, the white of Arcann's uniform or the mixture of white and steel-grey of Senya's own armor. The belt buckle had been replaced with the crest of the Eternal Alliance, the split seals of the Galactic Republic and Sith Empire halving each other.
Only one individual wore this design of armor. Indeed, only one individual had Senya's blessing to do so: The Alliance Commander himself, who adopted it on the advice of Senya and Arcann just after taking the throne. The gesture had helped ease tensions among the populace of Zakuul, but the Commander had not dispensed with it upon returning to Odessen. Instead, it had become his standard uniform, both in battle and at rest. Senya, for her part, was touched by the gesture, as was Arcann.
Who was this young woman who was bold enough to wear her dead son's armor?
In the reflection, the woman's head turned slightly, just enough for her eyes to meet those of the reflection of Senya herself.
Those blue eyes were questioning of Senya. They were asking her something. They were slightly… anxious. Worried. Senya reached out with her senses. She could feel the unspoken question. This young woman was not merely asking her if she was wearing the armor correctly or if looked good on her. Some part of her desperately wanted Senya's consent. To know that she had earned the right to wear it; this armor design that had only been worn by Senya's son, and by the noblest, most self-sacrificing man she had ever met.
The young woman didn't simply respect Senya; she valued her judgement and craved her approval.
In the reflection, Senya turned her head slightly and nodded, giving her an almost motherly smile of approval. There was a look of pride in her eyes that surprised the Zakuulan knight and made her wonder again about the origin of her companion.
In response, the young woman smiled and beamed, looking relieved as she turned back towards her reflection. She grinned proudly, as if ready to take on the whole galaxy if needed.
With a start, Senya awoke, breathing heavily. The dream was gone, along with her reflection and the young woman. She was back in her quarters in the Alliance base, in her bed. Instinctively applying the discipline of her Knight training, she quickly brought her breathing back under control.
She checked her chrono and realized that it was still the middle of the night. It would be some hours before she'd be expected to go on duty. Indeed, she could feel sleep calling her back, and decided not to resist.
Senya didn't know who the woman from her dream was, but it was clear she was important. Zakuulan Knights weren't normally granted visions through the Force the way Jedi were, but it wasn't completely unknown to happen. One thing was clear; she needed to find out who she was and learn everything she could about her.
Senya's final thought before she returned to her slumber was a strange one. Her dreams, for as long as she could remember, had always been of her children. Who, then, was this young woman to enter her dreams?