T h e D e s e r t R o s e
Items: Lightsaber I Engagement Ring I Outfit X X II Equipment X X X I Theme Song I Bloodline Tattoo
Aris Noble
Everest Vale
in the Temple Gardens, something had shifted within her. The conversation had rekindled a flame buried beneath the weight of exhaustion, doubt, and silence. The shackles that once held her spirit in place—guilt, fear, grief—had fallen away. Now, with each breath, each movement, she moved forward unbound.The training fields of Tython welcomed her in the soft hush of early morning. Pale sunlight crept over the horizon, bathing the world in gold. A gentle breeze stirred the grass beneath her boots, cool against the heat rising from her skin. This place—the wind, the quiet, the sky—had become her sanctuary. It was here she found herself again.
Anneliese's body blurred through a series of unarmed katas, each motion sharp, fluid, and deliberate. Her years under Valery's tutelage, long campaigns across war-torn systems, the teachings of others she'd met along the way—all had forged her into something formidable. Midvinter's cold discipline, the echoes of battle, the wisdom passed down—all lived in her limbs now.
She was no longer just a student. She was a voice. A guardian. A blade of light.
And this morning, like so many before, she trained not just to sharpen her form—but to still the chaos within.
Wearing her usual fitted pants and a cropped sports top, sweat shimmered across her tanned, freckled skin. Her fiery hair, tied back loosely, clung to her shoulders. She paused, breath heavy, hands braced on her knees. On her lower back, exposed in view, the branded mark of the Nameless remained—an ever-burning reminder of what had been stolen, and what must never be lost again. Memories pressed in like storm clouds: the invasion of her mind by the Nameless, the screams of the raid to retake Tython, the long nights of doubt. Her jaw clenched as she tried to shake them loose, but they clawed at the edges of her focus.
A low, frustrated grunt escaped her lips.
Without thinking, she threw herself back into the motion. Her body moved with sudden aggression—strikes tighter, faster, more forceful. The Force stirred within her, swirling with that old fire, sharpening her every step. She wasn't lashing out. She was burning it out—every fear, every ghost that whispered she wasn't enough. In a final, cathartic blow, she drove a powerful right cross into a training dummy. The Force surged through her as her battle cry ripped free, raw and fierce. The target flew backward, crashing into the field with a dull thud.
Panting, Anneliese stood still.
Silence fell again, broken only by the wind brushing past the trees.
She wiped her brow with the back of her hand, teeth catching on her lower lip as her chest rose and fell. The fire in her veins had quieted—but it hadn't vanished.
Eyes closed, she whispered into the morning light:"Push through, Annie. You're not alone. You're never alone. Never again… They need you to be strong."
A breath. "Ashla… please. Lend me your strength. Let Your grace fill me again."
The sun crested the horizon at last, bathing the field in light and Anneliese stood beneath it—still scarred, still burning, but never broken.
