Private “Ashes to Aleen”

[Sommer Dai]

The small suite above The Gilded Veil pulsed with lazy warmth. Sunlight filtered through half-laced curtains, catching on bits of dust and casting golden glimmers across the mosaic tile floor. A slow hum of city life echoed beyond the walls — the kind of lull that only Nar Shaddaa midday could offer. For once, there was no hidden tension in the sound. No thrum of danger on the edges. No dark Force calling beneath the surface.

Sommer Dai sat on her knees near her open travel trunk, surrounded by half-folded dresses, satin scarves, and a tightly coiled length of synthsilk rope she never traveled without — just in case. Her hands hovered over a neatly folded garment: a deep cerulean wrap with glistening embroidery that mimicked stars. She had worn it once for a performance on Anaxes, years ago, when she'd been someone else. Someone lighter. Before the Vault. Before Azis. Before Zori Galea carved a haunting place in her memory.

Her hand trembled slightly.​

 

[Alyssa Kydd]

A voice called from the kitchen alcove:
"Did you remember the heat regulators this time?"

Alyssa's tone was half-playful, half-reminder. She appeared a moment later, carrying a half-melted frozen fruit bar and wearing a short, sleeveless tunic with iridescent panels that shimmered with each step. Her curls were piled loosely on top of her head, a few wild strands escaping down the nape of her neck. Her freckles looked like constellations in the light.

"Aleen's surface gets brutal in the summer. Last time I was there, a guy passed out just stepping off the shuttle."

 

[Sommer Dai]

Sommer smiled faintly, though her chest felt tight.
"I packed them. And bug repellant. And water beads. But…" she let the sentence hang, eyes drifting to the folds of her old shawl again.

 

[Alyssa Kydd]

Alyssa watched her for a moment, leaning against the doorway. Then gently, "You're not sure why you're going."

 

[Sommer Dai]

Sommer let the silence stretch before nodding.
"It's not the heat. Or the bugs. Or the traveling. It's that—" she gestured vaguely, "I don't know what version of me I'm supposed to be out there. Am I… the performer they invited? The survivor Signa-Ki poked and prodded? The former vessel of a Force-bound nightmare? Or just… some girl who made it through the wreckage?"

 

[Alyssa Kydd]

Alyssa knelt beside her, brushing her fingers over the hem of the cerulean garment. Her presence was steady — grounding — the one constant since the whole mess with Zori. And now she knew everything. About the Force. About Sommer's connection to it. And yet… she stayed.

"You're all of them," Alyssa said. "But none of them define you. You're allowed to pick who walks out of that ship onto Aleen. Hell, you're allowed to make someone new if you want."

 

[Sommer Dai]

Sommer's throat tightened.

"What if I don't know how to perform anymore?" she whispered.

 

[Alyssa Kydd]

Alyssa arched a brow and reached behind her, grabbing a holo-stick from the side table. With a flick, it activated — a ghostly projection of Sommer from a year ago shimmered into view: vibrant, spinning in a flow-dance on stage, her voice velvet and fire as she sang to a packed lounge.

She smirked.
"That girl's still in you. I've seen her when you think I'm not watching. She's just been… resting. Like a flower waiting for the right sun."

 

[Sommer Dai]

Sommer exhaled slowly, her lips tugging upward despite herself.
"You always talk like a romance novel."

 

[Alyssa Kydd]

"Maybe I've been living in one," Alyssa replied with a wink, standing again and heading toward the closets. "Besides. The Aleena Nation Festival isn't just a gig. It's a celebration of life. Of resilience. They invited you because of who you are — not in spite of it."

 

[Sommer Dai]

En Route to Aleen

The skies of Nar Shaddaa peeled away, replaced by the star-speckled drift of hyperspace. Sommer sat in the co-pilot's seat of the sleek courier shuttle Alyssa had borrowed from a contact on Ord Mantell. It was compact, but beautifully tuned — and Alyssa piloted it like a dream. The nav system chirped occasionally with flight checks, but otherwise they floated in a tranquil hum.

Sommer glanced at the mirror set above the console and took in her reflection. Loose braids ran down one side of her scalp, the rest left to fall over her shoulders. Her tunic was breathable and wrapped at the waist with a silky, wine-red sash — a nod to tradition on Aleen. She looked... peaceful. Not entirely healed. But real.

 

[Sommer Dai]

Arrival – Surface of Aleen

The shuttle doors opened with a hiss, releasing the scent of scorched stone, sweet pollen, and roast spice. Aleen's surface was vibrant — sunbaked and humming with life. Towering salt-crystal formations glittered in the distance, and winding through them were thick jungles of bioluminescent vines and great spongey-rooted trees. The festival had already begun in the wide basin of the sunken plain — tents strung with woven lights, great platters of sizzling meats and fruits, and laughter that bubbled up in bursts.

The Aleena themselves — small, quick-bodied beings with expressive eyes and a deep respect for music — greeted them with an infectious energy. Children painted in swirling pigments offered Sommer flower garlands before she even stepped off the platform.

"Singer from the moon-city," one of them said in Basic, beaming. "You came back!"

Sommer blinked.
"Back?"

 

[Alyssa Kydd]

Alyssa leaned toward her, whispering:
"There's a story about a woman with a voice that healed a storm. I think they think that's you."

 

[Sommer Dai]

Sommer's lips parted. Her pulse seemed to swirl faintly in her chest — not like the dark times, not like possession. Just… like music.
Maybe it was okay that she didn't fully know who she was yet.


Maybe she just had to sing to find out.