The office was too quiet. Even the soft hum of the holoprojector felt sharp in the air. Piles of datapads surrounded her like a barricade — reports, requisitions, briefings — and still, Eve couldn’t make herself see any of them.
Her eye traced the words, but they blurred. Numbers, names, movements of fleets, the kind of information she was supposed to control. The kind that used to make her feel capable. Useful.
Now it just felt like weight.
The chair creaked when she leaned back, pressing her palms over her face. Her hands were cold. The light from the courtyard outside slipped in through the window slats — dull, pale — like it was struggling to reach her.
She didn’t know when everything had started to come apart. Maybe it had been slow. Maybe she’d missed it, too caught up in being what everyone needed her to be.
Knight. Overseer. Teacher.
Words that felt hollow tonight.
Azzie was lightyears away, buried in Iridonia’s red storms. Colette had vanished again. Reina, gone to gods-knew-where. Valery had her own burdens, and even when they spoke, Eve couldn’t tell if she still saw her, or just another Jedi trying to keep it together.
And Tigris...
Eve’s throat tightened.
Even that felt harder to reach lately.
The enclave was quiet these days. People smiled, trained, tended the gardens. It all looked peaceful. It was supposed to be.
But when she closed her eye, she saw the fires. The ships burning over worlds. The way the air tasted on the battlefield — smoke and ozone and something different altogether.
Here, there was so-called peace... but sometimes, that word just felt like a lie they told themselves so they could sleep at night.
She wondered how long it would last. How long before the Empire found them, before another attack tore through their illusion of calm.
And if — just for a heartbeat — there was an easier way to live with it. To stop feeling like she was drowning under the weight of what she couldn’t fix. If she could just...
The thought came and went like a flicker, quick and quiet. But it left something behind.
A low sound broke through the silence. The soft scrape of claws against the floor.
Isari was watching her from the corner of the room, head tilted, ears flat, eyes shimmering faintly in the dark. Concerned.
Eve stared at the datapad in front of her, but the numbers didn’t come back into focus. Her chest felt heavy.
A small whine.
Her jaw tightened. She didn’t look up.
"I’m fine."
The words were stiff and hollow.
Isari didn’t move.
Eve picked up the next datapad. Forced her hands to stay steady.
"I'm fine," she repeated, but they both knew that wasn't true. Isari stayed still, and eventually settled down again.
Outside, the light dimmed further. The enclave remained still, quiet, peaceful.
But for how long?
