When the Exile fought my sisters, she spoke very little to them. Despite Treienna's pride in our skill, it was clear from the first bout that it was the Exile's greater experience that would best us. It was nearly shameful, how thoroughly the Exile ignored my sisters, in order to address her message more clearly to Atris.
When she could have stricken, she instead evaded; when she could have thrown Lienna cleanly off the mat, she instead forced Lienna to trip herself into falling.
Once the bouts were finished, my sisters exchanged uneasy glances. The Exile had used us in a larger dialogue between herself and our mistress.
Your servants are bumbling children against my grace. They provoke me to fight, match even a suggested escalation with eagerness, and then fall like they have not yet learned even to walk. Look to your own. Is it I who succumbs to animal instincts? Is it I who thirsts for battle?
This was not the fallen warrior I had imagined, consumed by a battle-lust so strong she forgot her most sacred codes. She understood how to speak with movements and purpose. She was clarity.
Where Atris fostered pristine cleanliness, the Exile's leathers were scuffed and worn from travel.
Our weapons were used only in practice. The Exile's blades had seen battle so recently they still carried traces of blood.
The orbital cameras and snow kept us within the enclave. The heat of a hundred stars had kissed the Exile's skin the color of the neka nut.
Every piece of her cried out her difference.
I admit, I spoke to her first to test her, to see if perhaps words would reveal the Exile that the Atris spoke of, the Exile that had not materialized when she fought.
The Exile's message was clear to me in battle, but in words her true feelings were as hidden to me as Atris's often were. In that alone, they were similar.
Perhaps that was why I asked her. She was so similar to Atris. She carried herself with the same pain, but none of the pride. Atris said she was no Jedi, but yet-
Atris told us only that the Force was powerful, dangerous, and that we must endeavor to close our minds to it. If my mother truly touched a power so great that none could describe it, how could I hope to know her?
"You have touched the Force. What does it feel like?"
The Exile's lips parted in surprise. For the first time since I heard her speak, her words failed her. "It- It is a difficult thing to describe."
"Please. I wish to know."
The Exile's deep, brown eyes scanned my face for a time, then drifted away in thought. Perhaps she was touching the Force even as I watched, to give me a better answer.
"Imagine…" She said at last. "Imagine… spending your entire life adrift, in shadow. You do not know it because it is the only thing you have known. Then someone takes your hand puts it on the heartbeat of the universe, and you awaken for the first time.
"That is the Force."
My mouth was dry.
"I see. Thank you, Exile." Words were not my weapon as they were the Exile's. For the first time in my life, that seemed a shameful oversight. I could not hope to match her for eloquence or even come close to expressing what I felt at that moment. What I said instead barely sufficed. "I appreciate you sharing your knowledge with me."
Yet, when the Exile smiled, I felt she understood what I felt without my expressing it fully.
"If you have any further questions, seek me out and ask them."