The Silence
S A K A D I ' S -R E S I D E N C E
M O O N -O F -I S O B E
M O O N -O F -I S O B E
The vegetables that lay scattered across the countertop stood in stark contrast to the clean austerity of her kitchen. They were shriveled and pale, barely recognisable in their dehydrated state. It was reflected in their taste. Earthy and faint, the flavours stripped down to their bare essentials, no matter how much water she'd let them soak up. Eating them would be less a pleasure than a task. But her pantry had been thinned by the particularly harsh winter that had gripped the moon of Isobe, and so this was what remained. Nourishment over enjoyment.
The days, at least, were lengthening. Soon the first farmer’s markets of the year would return, bringing fresh produce, small talk, and the quiet rhythms of local life. Perhaps there would be news from off-world as well. The galaxy changed hands quickly, although little of that urgency was ever felt here. Word was that the Thustra system now lay under the Mandalorian Empire’s control. Yet so far, no decree had reached Isobe that mattered. She hadn't seen any tax collectors, nor soldiers. Let alone flags. And so, life continued.
She was quite content with the simplicity. The sunrise marked the start of her day, and the sunset told her it was time to wind down. Some evenings, she granted herself a few extra hours by the fire. Knitting blankets thick enough to ward off the winter chill. But the silence, perhaps, remained her favorite part. The deep stillness of a life removed from the galaxy’s endless noise.
Of Jedi duty.
She had laid that burden down when the Duchess of Thustra ascended. The girl she had guided, trained, and quietly shaped into a ruler capable of restoring the Thustran monarchy after the devastation wrought by Lirka Ka. By then, Sakadi’s title as Jedi Watchman of Thustra had long since become meaningless. The Alliance had fallen, and with it the authority that had once named such roles. Still, she had remained long enough to see her task through. And afterward, she found no reason to leave.
There was no Temple to return to. No beacon of unity calling the faithful home. No shining light to rally behind.
The Jedi were scattered. Broken into schools, praxeums, and enclaves. Each claiming some fragment of the old teachings while lacking the whole of them. What was duty now, but keeping the memory of the Light alive? And that did not require her. All that her legacy, her line of students, apprentices, and teachings had produced, were Jedi who had fallen to the Dark side.
No, her watch over the Light had ended. Not through defeat or exile. But of her own volition.
She grimaced as she tipped the vegetables into a bowl and poured steaming water over them. They seemed to soak up the liquid reluctantly, as if resisting rehydration.
Yes, eating this really was going to be an act of endurance...
Caltin Vanagor
