Private The Plains of Echoes Past

[Anneliese Kaohal-Delaine]

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Tags: Pari Sylune


The hyperspace swirl collapsed into quiet starlight as the Quasar dropped out over Dantooine. Soft blue and green hues washed across the cockpit canopy, painting Anneliese Kaohal's freckled skin in gentle color. Her fiery curls were half-tamed in a loose braid, though wisps always danced free in the cabin lights.

Below them stretched a world of long, waving grasses and warm prairies—peaceful, unhurried. A world that breathed.

Annie exhaled softly, as though greeting an old friend.

"This place shaped me," she murmured, almost to herself. Then she glanced at the young girl beside her—Pari, small hands tight on the co-pilot grips, eyes wide with dawning wonder. Annie's voice warmed. "My master brought me here when I was just about your age. We camped… we talked… and I found the first ember of who I would become."

With a flick of switches, the Huntress-class fighter angled downward, engines softening to a low hum. The wind across Dantooine's plains brushed against the hull like fingertips.

As they descended, the view opened fully:

The old Jedi Enclave ruins, skeletal and solemn in the distance, half-claimed by grass and wildflowers. And near them, nestled in a fold of earth, the faint gleam of the crystal cave's entrance—quiet, patient, waiting.

But not tonight.
Tonight was for something else.

Annie landed the Quasar on a broad ridge overlooking the plains, killing the engines until only the hush of wind remained. When she stepped out onto the grass, she breathed deep and smiled—soft, private, almost wistful.

"Come on," she called gently to Pari, grabbing a canvas pack and a collapsible fire-pit. "Before the trial comes the stillness. And before the stillness…" Her jade eyes sparkled with mischief.

"…we set up camp."

The sun was dipping low, staining the sky in rose and gold. Annie knelt to clear a small space, boots sinking into the warm earth.

She watched Pari from the corner of her eye—curious, eager, a little nervous.

Just like she had once been.

Reaching over, Annie tapped lightly at the small, un-attuned crystal hanging at Pari's neck.

"Tomorrow, you'll go to the caves," she said softly. "And you'll listen. Maybe the crystal you wear will awaken… or maybe another will call your name. Either path is yours to discover."

She sat back on her heels, letting the wind tug at her curls. The air smelled of soil and dusk. Stars were beginning to kindle overhead.

"But tonight," she said, lowering her voice with a warm, almost conspiratorial calm, "we rest beneath the sky. We breathe. We let Dantooine meet us before we ask anything of her."

The firepit clicked open. A small blue flame sparked to life.

Annie leaned back on her hands, eyes lifted to the first constellations.

"Tell me, Pari… what does this place make you feel?"

She didn't push. Didn't pry. Just offered the moment—quiet, open, safe—exactly as Valery once had for her.

 

[Pari Sylune]

Pari had camped more times than she could count. A nomad's life meant constant movement, constant discovery and she had long ago learned to pitch tents, gather water, and clear a site with effortless, automatic rhythm. It should have meant she felt no nerves at all. Yet beneath her steady hands, a tight flutter of anxiety simmered. She had never camped under the watchful eye of a Master she desperately hoped to impress. Every action felt magnified, as though a giant lens hovered over her, capturing each motion with unforgiving clarity. She could feel her Master observing, and she prayed she was doing everything right.

As they worked, her mind wandered to the crystal caves. Would she finally be learning how to build a lightsaber? The idea sent a thrill through her chest. The ancient weapon was a symbol of both peace and power and was something every Padawan dreamed of. It was all anyone talked about: When will it be my turn?

When the fire was lit and night settled in, the stars unfurled across the sky, draping the plains in shimmering beauty. Pari gazed up at them, her tan skin warmed by the firelight, her teak-colored eyes bright with joy.

"Dantooine feels calm and happy," she murmured. "It feels almost like being in your mother's arms." She hesitated, frowning as the thought caught on itself. She had never known her mother and never felt that embrace.

"Well… I guess it feels protected," she corrected softly.


Anneliese Kaohal-Delaine

 

[Anneliese Kaohal-Delaine]

​

Tags: Pari Sylune


Anneliese didn't miss the way Pari's hands worked—efficient, practiced, but just a little too careful, a little too aware of being watched. The way a young hawk spreads its wings correctly because someone important is looking.

She didn't comment. She only helped where needed, let silence be soft instead of heavy, and allowed the girl to find her own rhythm beside her.

When Pari spoke, Annie's head tilted, curls sliding over her shoulder as she listened with full attention. No judgment. Just presence.

"Calm and happy," she echoed, a warm glow entering her voice. "That's exactly what my Master said the first time we camped here. She told me that Dantooine breathes with a gentle heart."

But when Pari reached the part about a mother's arms—then paused, corrected herself—Annie's gaze softened in a way very few people ever saw from her. Not pity. Never pity.

Just understanding.

She turned her palms toward the night sky, feeling the cool air slip between her fingers.

"Protection is its own kind of embrace," she said quietly. "And this world… she's generous with it. She holds you without asking who you came from."

Annie leaned back, one knee drawn up, elbow resting casually atop it. The fire traced highlights through her hair like threads of gold.

"You know," she added, her tone gentling into something almost conspiratorial, "you don't have to pretend to feel everything exactly right on the first try. This place, this night, the caves tomorrow… they're not tests you pass or fail. They're moments that shape you."

Her eyes drifted toward the horizon where the enclave ruins slept under moonlight.

"When I came here, I was terrified," she admitted softly, with a rare little laugh. "Thought Valery could hear every anxious thought I had. I kept trying to 'perform' being a perfect Padawan. She saw right through it."

Annie reached out, not to touch, but to place her hand palm-up between them—an offering, not an instruction.

"You're allowed to just be you, Pari. That's who the crystal listens for anyway."

A breeze whispered through the tall grass, carrying the scent of earth and wildflowers.

"Tomorrow will be your moment," she said, voice low and certain. "Tonight… tonight is for breathing, and resting, and feeling safe beneath a sky that's older than the Order itself."

She glanced sideways at Pari, a small smile blooming—steady, reassuring, proud already:

"And for the record? You're doing beautifully."

 

[Pari Sylune]

Pari's fingers stilled, not because she froze, but because something loosened inside her, like a knot gently pulled free. Annie's words drifted through her like the breeze in the grass, soft but carrying weight.

She blinked once, twice, then let out a tiny breath she hadn't meant to hold.

"I… uhm."

A shy laugh slipped out, barely there. "If the crystal's really listening, I hope it doesn't mind nerves. Mine seem to have packed themselves for the whole trip."

She plucked a blade of tall grass beside her, twirling it between her fingers. Her voice stayed quiet, but no longer tight.

"When you said your Master could hear every anxious thought? That's… exactly how I feel around mine." Her smile curved awkwardly, tender and earnest. "Like if I breathe wrong, she'll know. Not because she's harsh because she's not. She's wonderful. Which somehow makes it worse, because I don't want to disappoint her."

Pari glanced at Annie's offered palm, the gesture so open it tugged something deep in her chest. Without thinking too hard, she mirrored it with her own small palm turned upward between them, hovering in soft echo rather than reaching.

"It's hard not to try too hard," she admitted, her voice almost a whisper. "When you meet places like this… or people like you… that make you want to be your best."

The fire popped, scattering a few sparks into the air. She watched them rise like stars being born.

"But I like what you said." Her eyes lifted, thoughtful. "About this not being a test. About the planet holding us. It feels… comforting. Like maybe I don't have to have all the right feelings in perfect order." A faint smile tugged at her lips. "Maybe I can just have honest ones."

She tilted her head back, looking at the sky that was vast, ancient, unbothered by her smallness. For the first time since arriving, she didn't shrink from it. She leaned into it.

"I want to be chosen by a crystal that knows me," she murmured. "Not the version I think I'm supposed to be. Tonight I'll try to just be Pari. And tomorrow… I'll see what the caves hear in me."






Anneliese Kaohal-Delaine

 

[Anneliese Kaohal-Delaine]

​

Tags: Pari Sylune

The girl's words settled between them like the last warm embers of the fire. Pari's honesty didn't strike Annie like a confession — it struck like a gift. A rare one. A fragile one. Something entrusted.

Annie's breath softened.

Pari's mirrored palm — that small, hovering echo of trust — tugged at her heart with a quiet, undeniable ache. Not pain… but recognition. Reflection. A sense of seeing a younger flame of herself flickering in this girl.

She turned her hand just slightly, not touching, just opening that space wider for Pari to exist in.

"You don't have to be a polished version of yourself for me," she said, voice low, rich with sincerity.

"I want you. The girl who laughs nervously and overthinks her breathing and still looks up at a sky this big with wonder instead of fear."

The fire popped again, scattering sparks like tiny lanterns being freed into the night.

"Trying too hard isn't a flaw, Pari. It's a heart too big for its own chest. That's something to guide… not correct."

She paused, letting the breeze run through the grass, letting the weight of her words settle — not heavy, just true.

Her eyes drifted to the stars, then back to the girl beside her.

"And for what it's worth… I'm already proud of you. Not tomorrow. Not because of a crystal. Right now. Because you're honest. And brave enough to be seen."

She reached over and gently tugged her cloak around her shoulders.

"Be yourself tonight. The Force listens best when we stop performing and simply… breathe."

The night deepened.
The fire dimmed to a soft glow.

Annie stayed sitting long after the girl drifted to sleep, watching her with that quiet, protective affection she rarely let surface.

"Little spark," she whispered into the dark, "rest easy. Tomorrow will meet you exactly as you are. And that is enough."

Dawn

The horizon warmed into gold.

Anneliese woke before the sun cleared the plains, breath deep and steady. The world was still soft with morning, the air cold enough to sting her lungs in a pleasant way.

She moved away from the camp to stand barefoot in the dew-drenched grass, closing her eyes as she lifted her face toward the pale light.

Her hands opened—not to receive, but to release.

Her whisper threaded through the quiet:

"Ashla… guide her steps today. Let her feel Your peace between each breath. Let her hands be steady, her mind clear, her heart unafraid to be true."

A breeze curled around her, brushing her braid, warm despite the chill.

"Strengthen her. Shape her. Hold her. Just as you hold me."

Annie breathed in.
And the Force breathed back.

Satisfied, grounded, she returned to the camp.

Pari was still curled beneath her blanket, small and peaceful, a sliver of hair across her cheek. The sight pulled a tender ache into Annie's chest — adoration, pride, something maternal she hadn't expected to feel this strongly.

She knelt beside her Padawan, brushing that stray lock back with a featherlight touch.

Her voice was warm as first light:

"Pari… sunrise is here. Time to wake, little spark."

No rush.
No pressure.

Just a motherly softness she didn't bother hiding.

"We've a walk ahead… and a calling waiting for you."

 

[Pari Sylune]

Pari stirred softly as her new master's voice drifted through the thin veil of sleep. Her teak-colored eyes fluttered open, catching a faint shimmer of dawnlight filtering into the small shelter. For a moment she lay still, suspended between dreaming and waking, until the cool Dantooine air brushed her skin and reminded her she was far from the quiet stone halls of Chalacta.

With a slow exhale she pushed herself upright. Her fingers instinctively rose to the lesser Mark of Illumination, which was etched into her scalp years ago with ritual precision, ,and she felt the familiar shallow ridges beneath her touch. The gesture steadied her. She tucked a few stray curls behind her ear and blinked away the last remnants of sleep.

Memory returned in a slow, rolling wave.

The caves. Today was the day she would enter the crystal caves.

Her heart fluttered, a delicate, startled thing in her chest.

"We've a walk ahead… and a calling waiting for you."

The words sank into her like warm tea spreading through cold hands.

Pari drew her boots toward her and slid them on with practiced movements. She smoothed her tunic, lifted her hair into a neater twist, and finally rose to her feet. The face she offered the world remained composed and serene, obedient, carved from the same disciplined stillness the Chalactan adepts had taught her since infancy.

But inside… Inside she glowed with nervous anticipation. A tremor of excitement threaded with doubt. A longing to belong. A fear of what the crystals might reveal about who she truly was or who she wasn't.

She followed her master out into the pale morning, her calm expression betraying nothing, while the universe inside her stirred like desert wind over warm sand.

"I am ready master."


Anneliese Kaohal-Delaine

 

[Anneliese Kaohal-Delaine]

​

Tags: Pari Sylune


When she sensed Pari behind her, awake and ready, Annie opened her eyes. Warmth softened her features, quiet and immediate, a smile that lived more in her gaze than her mouth.

"Morning suits you," she said gently as she handed over the packed satchel—prepared long before the horizon had brightened. "Come. The plains are waiting."

They walked.

Grass swayed around them in great, rolling currents. A few early-bird grazers—small, long-legged herd creatures—lifted their heads as the pair crossed old stone paths now swallowed by earth.

"This world remembers," Annie murmured as they crested a rise. She gestured toward the distant scatter of broken stone half-embraced by vines. "There stood an enclave once. Bright, alive. Students training at dawn, masters meditating in the sunlit halls."

Her tone carried both fondness and mourning.

"When it fell silent, the land reclaimed it. But the echo of what we were—what they were—still lingers."

As they approached the ruins, Annie stepped lightly over fragments of carved stone. Her hand brushed moss-covered walls, following lines she'd memorized years before. Every turn she took was sure, practiced, as if the earth itself whispered directions to her.

They reached the fallen chamber, open to the sky where the roof had long since collapsed. Light poured through in angled beams. Green vines draped pillars now broken at the middle. At the center stood the weathered statue—the offering figure whose basin had caught centuries of leaves and water.

Annie paused there, letting the quiet settle.

"The Force clung to this room," she told Pari. "Even after the rest fell to time."

She placed her palm against the stone and reached out through the force .

The ancient mechanism responded with a deep grind, dust sifting down as the basin shifted in a smooth, heavy arc. The floor split cleanly along a hidden seam, revealing the spiraling passage beneath.

When the sound faded, the chamber fell into an even deeper hush.

She turned fully toward her apprentice.

"This entrance is known only to the line of Masters and their apprentices," she said, voice low. "Not to keep glory hidden, but to keep what lies below safe—from greed, from ignorance, from those who might misuse it."

Her gaze softened, warmed.

"And now you know it. That trust is yours."

She stepped closer, reaching up to gently adjust the fall of Pari's shoulder wrap with the quiet care of someone who adored her far more deeply than she ever said aloud.

"The caves will test you," she said. No embellishment. No threat. Just truth. "They tested me. Showed me my darkest fear. Made me name it."

She exhaled softly, remembering.

"But I left lighter. Clearer. The Force has a way of emptying what we never realized we carried."

Her hand hovered near Pari's arm—not restraining, not urging, simply there.

"What waits for you below is yours alone," she said. "Different for every seeker. But I have faith in you. Unshakeable faith."

She stepped back, giving her Padawan space to choose her moment.

"I'll be right here when you return. Exactly here." Her tone was gentle but resolute. "Go as yourself. Nothing more. Nothing less."

The wind stirred around them, carrying the scent of earth and stone and morning light.

Annie waited. Present, steady, proud.

Letting Pari take the next step in her own time.

 

[Pari Sylune]

"I'm ready," Pari told the air, though she wasn't sure she believed it. She stepped inside.

The cave closed around her like a slow exhale. Soft blue luminescence rippled along the walls, and the cool scent of mineral dust tickled her nose. Pari pressed deeper, letting her fingertips brush the stone, anchoring herself.

I know who I am, she told herself. But certainty wavered as soon as she formed the thought.

Her steps echoed. Each sound seemed to peel back another layer of her composure. In the Temple, she'd been able to hide in her efforts, in her studies, in the soft-spoken diligence she offered everyone except herself. But here, effort was useless. There was nothing to fix, nothing to soothe. Only truth, waiting for her to turn around and look it in the eye.

As the tunnel widened, Pari sensed the shift almost like the Force inhaling and holding its breath.

“Pari”, a whisper threaded through the chamber. “Child of quiet edges… why do you tremble?”

She froze. It wasn't an external sound; it bloomed directly inside the tender, unprotected space of her mind.

"I'm not trembling," she said softly. A lie, and the cave knew it.

The whisper swelled, shaped from her own memories, her own fear.

“You fear disappearing. Not death, not darkness… but insignificance. You were left with no name, no history. You belong nowhere except where others allow it.”

Pari clenched her fists. "I made a place for myself."

“By being what they wanted. By becoming what fit. That is not belonging. That is survival.”

Her breath stuttered. The truth of it sliced too neatly. She had been so eager to be pleasant, harmonious, easy. A gentle voice. A good student. A quiet presence that never took up too much space. Because if she took up too much space… perhaps there'd be no space for her at all.

Light gathered near a still pool at the cavern's center, its surface perfectly smooth. Pari approached, drawn and afraid.

When she looked into the water, her reflection blinked back with her own eyes, yet different. Sharper. Fragile in a way she tried hard not to be.

The reflection rose from the pool, standing across from her as a living echo.

"Why do you hide behind kindness?" it asked gently. "Why do you soften every edge of yourself until you become a shape others can hold without discomfort?"

Pari swallowed. "I don't."

"You do." The echo stepped closer, its expression heartbreakingly tender. "You think if you are soft enough… you won't be left again."

The cavern seemed to tilt. Pari's knees nearly buckled. Her earliest memory was a sensation, not an image but a cold ache of emptiness where arms should have been. A sense of absence so profound she never found the words for it.

"I was an infant," she whispered. "I don't even remember being abandoned.”

"But your heart remembers." The echo raised a phantom hand, grazing air inches from her cheek. "You have spent your entire life earning places that should have been freely yours."

Pari breathed, shaky and uneven.

The echo continued:

"You fear that if you show your true self, your anger, your hunger, your confusion, your desires that people will turn from you. So you silence yourself. You make yourself pleasing. You vanish piece by piece."

Pari's eyes stung. Tears welled before she could stop them.

"I don't know who I am beneath all that," she admitted. At last. Honest. Bare. Petrifying.


The cave responded with a low hum, the crystals igniting like stars. Their glow mixed with the trembling reflection on the pool.

"Then begin here," her echo said, voice warm now, not accusing. "Who are you when no one is watching? When no one needs you to be anything?"

Pari closed her eyes.

She listened.

Not to the cave. Not to the echo.

To something deeper.

She felt curiousity, bright and boundless with a quiet sense of wonder she never let herself express. Deeper there was a yearning for connection that wasn't earned through self-erasure. Deeper still was fear of abandonment… and the strength to face it

She opened her eyes.

"I don't know everything yet," she whispered. "But I want to know myself. Even the parts that don't make others comfortable."

The echo smiled, a genuine, luminous thing before dissolving into golden motes of light.

Those motes drifted upward, drawn into a single kyber crystal embedded in the wall. The crystal shivered, loosened, and floated down into Pari's waiting hands.

It was warm. Almost alive. And it pulsed in perfect resonance with her heart.

A crystal not chosen by a mask but by her. A crystal with no expectations of others, just a steady rhythm with her own heart.

Pari took a deep breath and reached for the necklace around her throat. She tugged on it and it came loose. She held the necklace in the palm of her hand along with her new crystal. This was hers, with no strings attached, and the old crystal was a reminder of her past, the new a symbol of her future. Together they would shape her destiny. She had chosen. She had listened, and now she had to walk away from the expectations others forced upon her.

A few moments later her tiny form emerged from the cave and she opened her palm to show her master her new humming crystal.

Anneliese Kaohal-Delaine

 

[Anneliese Kaohal-Delaine]

​

Tags: Pari Sylune


Anneliese remained exactly where she said she would.

She seated herself on a fallen stone at the edge of the chamber, just beyond the hidden descent, cloak drawn loosely around her shoulders. The morning light filtered in through the broken ceiling, catching dust motes in slow, sacred spirals. Time stretched here — not empty, but attentive.

She closed her eyes.

Waiting was never passive for her. It never had been.

Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, back into the depths of memory — into the caves as she had once known them. Cold stone beneath her palms. The way the darkness had pressed close, intimate and merciless. The way the Force had not comforted her at first… but confronted her.

She remembered the fear most of all.

Not death.
Not pain.
But being alone.

The vision of standing unchosen. Unloved. Of her strength turning monstrous in the eyes of others — something to be feared, restrained, abandoned. The terrible suspicion that she was too much and yet never enough. That her power would cost her connection. That her fire would leave her standing in ash.

She had shaken then. Had nearly fled.

What saved her was not courage — not at first — but truth. Naming the fear. Letting it exist without letting it rule her. When she emerged, she had felt… lighter. As though something brittle had finally cracked and fallen away.

She drew in a slow breath now, steadying herself.

Ashla, she prayed silently, palms open atop her knees. Hold her where I cannot. Do not shield her from the truth — but do not abandon her to it either. Let her feel loved even as she stands alone.

A faint ache bloomed in her chest — deep, instinctive, maternal.

Pari was not just her Padawan.

She was her heart, reflected.

The quiet strength. The careful kindness. The way she made herself smaller than she truly was, fearing that taking up space meant losing belonging.

Annie opened her eyes just as she felt it — the shift.

The Force inhaled… and released.

She rose to her feet.

Moments later, Pari emerged from the hidden descent.

Small against the ancient stone. Luminous in a way that had nothing to do with the light spilling from the cave. When she opened her palm, the kyber crystal hummed softly — a living thing, resonant, warm, unmistakably hers.

Annie didn't rush forward.

She stood still, letting the moment breathe, letting Pari own it fully before stepping into it.

Then her expression softened — pride shining through unguarded, eyes bright with something dangerously close to tears.

"There you are," she said quietly. Not welcome back. Not you did it. Just recognition. Just relief.

She stepped closer now, slow and reverent, gaze never leaving the crystal.

"I felt it the moment you crossed the threshold," Annie murmured. "The caves didn't break you. They met you."

Her hand lifted — not to take the crystal, but to hover near it, as though greeting a newborn flame.

"This one knows you," she said with certainty. "Not who you tried to be. Who you are."

Then Annie reached into her cloak.

From an inner pocket, wrapped carefully in cloth worn soft by years of handling, she withdrew a lightsaber emitter — elegant, time-scarred, lovingly maintained. The metal bore faint marks of age and use, not flaws but history.

She turned it in her hands once… twice… then placed it gently into Pari's palm alongside the crystal.

"This, was part of my first saber," Annie said, voice steady but deeply personal. "The one I built with Val when I stood where you stood. I've kept it safe all these years."

Her thumb brushed the emitter's edge — a farewell, and a blessing.

"I want you to have it. Not because you need me… but because you never walk alone. A piece of my journey, carried forward in yours."

She met Pari's eyes fully now, her voice warm, fierce, and unmistakably maternal.

"I am so proud of you. Not for what you found… but for what you were brave enough to face."

Annie rested her hand over Pari's shoulder — grounding, protective, utterly sure.

"Whenever you doubt yourself, remember this moment. You chose truth. And the Force answered."

The ruins stood silent around them.
The crystal sang softly between them.

Anneliese's hand lingered at Pari's shoulder a moment longer than necessary — grounding, steady — before she finally let it fall away.

Her voice softened again, warmth returning just enough to close the moment with care.

"We'll seal the entrance back up," she said quietly. "Then we'll head back to camp. You'll want rest before we begin assembling—"

Slow.
Deliberate.

Clapping.

Once.
Twice.
Unhurried.

The sound echoed through the ruined chamber like something obscene.

Anneliese's head lifted immediately. She didn't turn toward Pari.

She stepped in front of her instead — a single smooth motion, instinctive and absolute. Her body angled just enough to block line of sight, her presence a shield without question or hesitation.

From the broken archway opposite the chamber, figures emerged — rough armor, scavenged gear, weapons worn smooth by use. Smiles too easy. Eyes too hungry.

A voice drawled from the front of them, amused.

"Damn," he said. "That was touching. Really. Almost made us feel bad for interrupting."

Another chuckled.

"Almost."

The leader spread his hands wide, mock-placating. "But looks like we hit the jackpot, boys. A hidden cave, untouched kyber…" His gaze slid past Annie, greedy. "And two fine prisoners. Nar Shaddaa'll pay handsomely for Force-trained stock."

His gaze leered on Annie and Pari.

Anneliese didn't raise her voice. She didn't look rattled.

Her tone changed — not louder, but colder, the warmth extinguished like a snuffed flame.

"You will not take another step forward."

Her lightsaber snapped into her hand without conscious thought — amber sunlight igniting with a sharp, living hum that filled the chamber and drowned out every other sound.

She didn't ignite it to threaten.

She ignited it because this was no longer a conversation.

The man laughed. "Lady, there's—"

Eight more figures stepped out of the shadows behind them. From collapsed corridors. From behind fallen pillars. Boots scraping stone. Weapons lifting.

“— more of us than you sweetheart…”

Eleven.

Anneliese counted them without moving her eyes.

Her stance widened slightly. Grounded. Perfect.

She tilted her head, studying them the way a huntress studies prey that has wandered too close to her den.

"Let me be very clear," she said, voice calm as still water over bedrock.

"You are standing on protected ground. You have trespassed. And you have spoken a threat to my Padawan."

Her saber angled forward, steady as a line drawn in stone.

The leader scoffed. "You're outnumbered, not very smart are you— but man you’re easy on the eyes, that’s something."

Anneliese smiled — not kindly.

"I've been outnumbered before."

She shifted her weight imperceptibly, fully between Pari and the threat now, every line of her body screaming resolve.

"Leave. Now — final warning.”

Internally at that moment Anneliese reached through the force and spoke with Pari.

<< On my back is another saber Pari, I keep it in the event of necessity. When I give the signal my little one, pull it to you and assume a defensive stance — if anyone gets past me, you must defend yourself as your life depended on it. >>