Kara Kornelius
Character
She steps into the center of the lane, closing her eyes for the briefest moment. The Force settles around her in fine, invisible strands. Heat. Noise. Movement. The layered pulse of a settlement that refuses to sit still.
And beneath it, the faintest disturbance.
Not absence, exactly. More like something designed to make absence feel natural.
Her eyes open.
"Cloaking," she whispers.
The word lands with a hard little click in her mind.
Not invisible. Not truly. But masked. Distorted. A device. A field. Something sophisticated enough to blur attention, dull memory, and let a man pass through a crowded street without being remembered properly once he is gone.
That explained the faces. The confusion. The way every answer had slipped around him like water around stone.
Kara's hand hovers near the hilt at her belt.
"He's not just good at hiding," she says under her breath. "He's making people forget what they saw."
The idea sends a sharpened pulse through her chest. That kind of device was not the sort of thing a wandering historian carried for romance or vanity. It was the kind of tool used by smugglers, assassins, and people building empires one blind spot at a time.
She turns slowly toward the narrow streets ahead.
Azis had not disappeared by accident.
He had led her here.
And the worst part was that he had done it without ever needing to look back.
Kara stands still for a beat, letting the market noise wash around her. Somewhere nearby, a vendor laughs. A droid chirps. A sun-cracked awning flaps in the dry wind. Ordinary life continues, bright and fragile, while a very different game unfolds in the cracks between footsteps.
She draws in a careful breath.
Then she starts forward again, this time not searching for a man.
Searching for the shape of a trap.
And beneath it, the faintest disturbance.
Not absence, exactly. More like something designed to make absence feel natural.
Her eyes open.
"Cloaking," she whispers.
The word lands with a hard little click in her mind.
Not invisible. Not truly. But masked. Distorted. A device. A field. Something sophisticated enough to blur attention, dull memory, and let a man pass through a crowded street without being remembered properly once he is gone.
That explained the faces. The confusion. The way every answer had slipped around him like water around stone.
Kara's hand hovers near the hilt at her belt.
"He's not just good at hiding," she says under her breath. "He's making people forget what they saw."
The idea sends a sharpened pulse through her chest. That kind of device was not the sort of thing a wandering historian carried for romance or vanity. It was the kind of tool used by smugglers, assassins, and people building empires one blind spot at a time.
She turns slowly toward the narrow streets ahead.
Azis had not disappeared by accident.
He had led her here.
And the worst part was that he had done it without ever needing to look back.
Kara stands still for a beat, letting the market noise wash around her. Somewhere nearby, a vendor laughs. A droid chirps. A sun-cracked awning flaps in the dry wind. Ordinary life continues, bright and fragile, while a very different game unfolds in the cracks between footsteps.
She draws in a careful breath.
Then she starts forward again, this time not searching for a man.
Searching for the shape of a trap.