Private That's All

[Katarine Ryiah]

Just as I thought it was going alright


​

Location: Unknown

She woke to darkness that breathed. Not true darkness, there was light somewhere, thin and invasive, pulsing behind her eyelids, but it felt heavy, pressing in on her skull. Katarine Ryiah groaned softly and immediately regretted it. Pain flared hot and sharp, a vice tightening around her temples. Her stomach rolled, a sick, floating sensation dragging her awareness back into her body far too quickly.

Drugs.

The thought surfaced with uncomfortable clarity.

Her lashes fluttered. The world swam into fractured focus, blurred shapes, sterile whites, the low hum of machinery that vibrated through her bones. Each breath tasted wrong. Chemical. Clean. Not air meant for living things.

Memory came in pieces.

Lothal....Dust on her boots. The Force uneasy, whispering warnings she hadn't fully understood.

Her breath hitched.

Daxium.

No. Not him. Something wearing his face.

The echo of that moment slammed into her chest: the way her heart had leapt with instinctive relief before twisting into dread, the way the Force around him had felt… wrong. Hollow in places. Too sharp in others. A reflection without depth. An imposter. A lie sculpted perfectly enough to hurt.

Her eyes snapped open. White ceiling. Too bright. Too close. Panic surged and stopped short. She tried to move. Nothing happened. Cold pressure circled her wrists. Ankles. Chest. Katarine looked down slowly, nausea spiking as realization set in. Restraints. Stark and unforgiving, pinning her to a hospital bed. Thin bands of metal and synthfiber bit into her skin, humming faintly with energy dampeners she could feel even through the fog in her mind.

The Force was there, but muted. Like reaching through thick water.

Her pulse thundered in her ears. She tested the bindings again, more carefully this time, forcing herself to breathe through the pounding in her head. The room stayed stubbornly still. Machines beeped in steady, indifferent rhythms, monitoring her like a specimen rather than a person.

Whoozy. Helpless. Drugged.

Captured.

Katarine swallowed, throat dry, and stared up at the ceiling as the truth settled over her in cold waves. Whatever had taken her from Lothal hadn't done so by accident. And whoever wore her brother's face had been the beginning, not the end, of this nightmare.

"She's awake."

The voice sounded far off. She tried to turn her head but it was impossible to see that far at this angle.

"Give her another dose... The master wants her asleep for now."

She opened her cracked lips to protest but before she could the liquid from the iv ran through her arm and she drifted off to sleep.

 

[Katarine Ryiah]

I found out I'm wrong when I thought I was right

​

Sleep took her sideways.

Not gently, nothing about this was gentle, but like a tide slipping under a door, cool and inevitable. The drugs pulled Katarine down into darkness again, her thoughts loosening, the ache in her skull dulling until it became distant, unreal.

She knew it was a dream the moment the ground shifted beneath her feet.

It wasn't dramatic. No sudden fall, no sharp break. Just the subtle, unmistakable wrongness of it, the way the horizon breathed, the way the light bent without a source. The Force flowed too smoothly here, like silk drawn through water. Dreams always carried that softness, that quiet distortion.

Katarine was walking.

Her boots made no sound. The terrain beneath her feet changed with every step, stone to sand to smooth durasteel and back again, but she couldn't say where she was. Not Lothal. Not anywhere she recognized. The sky above was a wash of color that refused to settle into a single hue, as though it couldn't decide what planet it belonged to.

She slowed, uncertainty curling in her chest.

"This isn't real," she murmured, more to steady herself than anything else.

The Force answered, not with warning, but with warmth.

Ahead of her, the air shimmered.

At first she thought it was light reflecting strangely, but then the shimmer gathered, drawing inward, shaping itself into something familiar. A figure stepped forward, translucent but whole, as if the dream itself had made room for her.

An elderly woman stood there, tall and graceful despite the years etched softly into her face. Her hair was silver, worn loose around her shoulders, her posture relaxed in a way that spoke of long-earned peace. She wore simple robes, not Jedi, something older, quieter. Her eyes were bright, kind… and impossibly knowing.

She smiled. Not the polite smile of a stranger. The smile of someone who had been waiting.

Katarine's breath caught.

"I..." Her voice faltered. The Force surged around her heart, recognition blooming without memory to anchor it. "I know you."

The woman's smile deepened. "Yes," she said gently. Her voice felt like home, like a lullaby half-remembered. "You do."

Katarine took a hesitant step forward. "That's not possible. I only met my grandmother once. I was a baby. I don't remember her face."

"You don't remember with your mind," the woman replied, lifting a hand. Light passed through her fingers like mist. "But you remember with everything else."

Understanding struck Katarine hard enough to sting her eyes.

"Isaline Ryiah?" she whispered.

The Force ghost inclined her head, pride and tenderness flickering across her expression. "Katarine Ryiah," she said, savoring the name. "You have carried so many questions for so long."

Emotion tightened Katarine's throat. "Why are you here?"

The woman stepped closer, her presence strengthening, the dream stabilizing around them. "Because you are lost child. Because you are hurting. And because you need to remember who you are."

Katarine swallowed. "I don't know if I can."

Her grandmother's gaze softened, fierce and loving all at once. "You already are," she said. "The Force does not make you whole, Katarine. It only reflects what was already there."

She reached out, resting a ghostly hand over Katarine's heart. Warmth spread through her chest, steadying, anchoring.

"Wake when you must," her grandmother murmured. "But while you dream, listen. I have much to show you."

The shifting world stilled, then suddenly vanished in a wisp of smoke. Katarine's eyes were closed as she slept on the hospital bed, but softly she whispered in her sleep.

"Grandma."

 

[Katarine Ryiah]

It's always the same, it's just a shame, that's all


​

The garden unfolded around them as if answering a memory.

Stone paths emerged beneath Katarine's feet, pale and smooth, bordered by low flowering shrubs and carefully tended trees. The air was warmand soft with humidity and the faint scent of water and blossoms. Sunlight filtered through broad leaves overhead, scattering gold across marble benches and quiet pools.

Katarine slowed.

"I know this place," she said, awe threading her voice.

Her grandmother smiled, walking beside her as though her feet truly touched the ground. "Of course you do."

"The Naboo enclave," Katarine murmured. "The temple gardens." Her chest tightened, not with pain this time, but with a wistful ache. "I studied here as a Padawan. During the High Republic. I used to walk these paths when my thoughts became too loud."

The Force here was gentle, alive in a way she hadn't felt in a long time. It hummed through flowering vines and curved stone alike, patient and steady. Safe.

Her grandmother glanced at her, eyes thoughtful. "Do you remember why you became a Jedi, Katarine?"

The question seemed simple enough. Katarine didn't hesitate. "To help people," she said. "To protect them. To ease suffering."

Her grandmother stopped walking. Katarine did too, turning back, confusion flickering across her face.

"That is what Jedi become," her grandmother said softly. "Not why you began."

Katarine frowned, searching her memories. "Isn't that the same thing?"

The older woman shook her head gently. "No. And you have always known that, even if you buried it beneath duty and discipline."

They resumed walking. The path curved ahead of them, the garden deepening, shadows and light weaving together.

"You wanted a life," her grandmother continued. "Your own life. One not written in blood or prophecy. One not defined by fear."

Katarine's steps faltered.

"You and your brother endured darkness too young," the woman said, not accusing, simply naming truth. "A cult that taught you that choice was an illusion and destiny a cage. You were children who learned survival before safety."

Katarine's hands curled at her sides. "I didn't mean to leave him," she said quietly. "I never wanted to..."

"I know," her grandmother interrupted gently. "This was never about abandoning your brother."

They stopped beside a pool of clear water. Katarine stared into it and saw not her reflection, but flickers of memory, narrow halls lit by candles, whispered doctrines, the weight of being watched.

"You chose the Jedi," her grandmother said, "because they offered you something no one else had: the chance to choose who you would become."

Katarine swallowed hard.

"You wanted to escape the darkness," the woman went on. "Not destroy it. Not redeem it. Simply… step out of its shadow. You wanted space to breathe. To exist without being bound to someone else's will."

The water rippled.

"From the very beginning," her grandmother said, placing a hand over Katarine's, "you were a soul determined to walk your own path."

Katarine looked up, eyes shining. "Then why does it feel like I've lost it?"

Her grandmother's expression softened, but there was steel beneath the kindness. "Because paths chosen freely are never smooth. They bend. They break. They disappear for a time. She gestured to the garden around them. "Even here, every stone was laid after the ground was cleared. Every flower planted where something else once grew."

Katarine exhaled shakily. "My path feels… rocky. Uncertain. Like I don't know where it's leading anymore."

Her grandmother met her gaze, unwavering. "That does not mean it isn't yours."

The garden stirred around them, leaves rustling, light shifting.

"You are not failing, Katarine Ryiah," she said. "You are standing at a place where choice matters again. You have always compared yourself to the others. You have always wanted to be of the same caliber of Hawk Hinata, Bethany Kismet, Romi Jade , Valery Noble or Caltin Vanagor , but you are not them. You feel your past is too convoluted to carry you forward. You believe it holds you back from having the story you want and the path you need to walk."

Her grandmother sat on a stone bench and gently patted the open area beside her. Katarine joined her and the two women sat side by side, watching the birds dip and dive through the beautiful garden.

"Your past is not the reason you never rise to greatness Katarine. It is your present that keeps you from that. You isolate yourself. You do not make the connections with the other Jedi you need. Even now, for months, you have been pushing Connel Vanagor away, the only person you truly know in this new era."

Katarine's face fell and her hair formed a blanket around her, hiding the guilty and disappointed lines of her frown.

"I feel so out of place in this galaxy. I do not know where I belong."

"That is because you focus too much on your inner turmoil and your past. You feel too deeply and go against the Jedi teachings. You've formed an attachment to the life you used to live and until you can let that go and embrace a new path you will never find your footing."

 

[Katarine Ryiah]

I could say day, and you'd say night

​

Sound came first slow, rhythmic beeping, steady and distant. Beneath it lurked something softer, a faint hiss that rose and fell like breath drawn through machinery.

She blinked, consciousness surfacing in reluctant waves. Light stabbed at her eyes, and she hissed in pain, squeezing them shut again. Every muscle ached now, a deep, honest soreness that told her the drugs flooding her system were meant to restrain, not comfort.

Footsteps followed, slow, shuffling, deliberate, as someone entered the room. She felt them through the Force, a dim presence pressed flat and muffled, as though her senses were wrapped in thick fabric. The Force was still there… but distant, unreachable, just beyond her grasp.

“Whose there?”

She heard a raspy chuckle. “I thought patience was a Jedi virtue?” A series of wet hacking coughs followed this statement, as if whoever was speaking had long lost the battle against lung cancer. The voice was not familiar to Katarine.

She strained to turn her head but it was futile. Her restraints were tight and kept her with little motion. Her companion did not seem to want to prolong the mystery however because a few moments latter the bed was rising into a sitting position, giving Katarine a view of the room instead of just the ceiling.

The same slow shuffling sounded until a woman appeared before her. Kats first instinct was to gasp as the grizzly sight met her eyes. The woman was withered and aging. Her red hair was long, lanky, and falling out leaving huge bald patches. Her eyes were cold and alert but her smile was full of brown rotting teeth. This ancient hag looked as if she belonged in a morgue, rather than a makeshift hospital room. Despite the withered and broken husk, something in the eyes was familiar to Katarine.

Another gasp.

“It can’t be…”

“Oh I assure you it’s me. Lord Grimm may not be good for much but he’s managed to keep me alive.” She started hacking again, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe the blood from her mouth. “Or at least some semblance of alive.”

Lady Sinistra could not possibly be alive. She had kidnapped the Ryiah twins centuries ago. How was this possible?

“What do you want?” Kat’s voice was a whisper but it contained a raw edge she rarely used.

“Now now. Is that any way to greet your aunty?”

“What?” The Jedi Masters deep green eyes widened at the revelation. After all this time… the person who killed her own parents … who kidnapped her and Daxium… who tortured them into the darkside…. Was family?

Her blood started to pump faster, pushing the drugs through her system until her eyelids felt heavy and sleep claimed her once again

 

[Katarine Ryiah]

Tell me it's black, when I know that it's white

​

The dream world coalesced in wisps of silver smoke, but Katarine's impatient green eyes barely spared it a glance. She searched instead, desperately, for Isaline.

The shimmer of light thickened, drew together, and at last took the shape of her grandmother. Isaline's expression was soft, knowing, and unbearably gentle.

"Is it true?" Katarine demanded at once, her voice dropping to a frightened whisper.

"Yes," Isaline said quietly. "I'm afraid it is. Lady Sinistra is your mother's sister. She is your aunt."

Katarine sank onto a nearby bench, shaking her head as if the motion alone might dislodge the truth. "How could someone do that?" she whispered. "To their own sister?"

Isaline's smile faded into something sadder, heavier. "You know as well as I do," she said, "that darkness does not obey the limits of logic, or love."

"Does Daxium know?"

"I think he suspects and, that is why Sinistra has always had such a hold on him. She is a mother figure to him."

"Only because she killed his real mother!" Katarine stood up, her fists clenched, breathing hard.

"I know she did, dear." Isaline was patient, poised, and watched Katarine with steady eyes. "She killed my son too."

Katarine took a deep breath and sat down. She hadn't stopped to think that Isaline missed her parents just as much as she did. "I'm sorry."

"Do not apologize, child. Your story has always been so closely tied the events of your past. In many ways you truly belong in a different era."

"Tell me about it." Katarine snorted. "But I'm stuck here."

"You don't have to be."

"What do you mean?"

"There may be a way for you to return to your own timeline. But it will be dangerous."

"Tell me."