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The Promise
Location: Rakata Prime
Gear: Jump-suit and helmet.
Alana stood frozen in the doorway, Serina's words cutting through her like a blade. Each syllable felt like a shard of glass being driven deeper into her chest. It wasn't just the truth of what Serina was saying, but the weight of
how she said it—her voice trembling with something that Alana couldn't quite understand, but felt deep in her gut. Desperation. Fear. And it was all because of
her.
She felt like the air had been knocked out of her, like every breath was a struggle, each one more labored than the last. Her mind was in chaos, a swirl of guilt and confusion and self-loathing.
This was my fault. The realization crashed over her in waves, and each wave felt more suffocating than the last.
I am the one who hurt her.
She had been so sure, so certain. She had thought that fighting, pushing,
trying to save Serina—forcing her to see the light, forcing her to change—was the right thing to do. But now, hearing Serina's voice, trembling with raw emotion, Alana realized just how wrong she had been. She had scared her. She had frightened Serina into a corner, made her feel trapped in a way that only pushed her deeper into the dark. She hadn't tried to save Serina; she had tried to control her.
She closed her eyes tightly, her hands trembling at her sides as her thoughts spiraled downward.
Serina was right. I'm not helping her. I'm hurting her. The truth of it stung like salt in an open wound.
Serina's words replayed in her mind.
"If you stay, I will take everything from you." It wasn't a threat, it was a warning.
A warning I forced her to give me. Alana's heart twisted in her chest as she replayed every moment of their time together—the times she had pushed too hard, tried to drag Serina away from her own darkness, when she should have just been there, should have just listened.
But instead, she had forced herself on Serina, always pushing, always trying to make her
better, make her
what she wanted her to be, rather than just accepting her for who she was. She had been blind, thinking she could mold Serina into someone else, into someone she could fix.
She hadn't understood. She hadn't seen how
terrified Serina must have been—how helpless she must have felt, trapped between the love Alana gave her and the pull of the Dark Side.
And now it was all falling apart.
The silence between them stretched on, and all Alana could hear was the pounding of her own heart. Every word Serina had said felt like a knife, twisting deeper and deeper as the weight of her own failure sank in.
I'm the one who hurt her. I'm the one who made her feel this way.
Alana's breath caught in her throat as she stepped forward, almost instinctively, as if to reach out, to apologize, to do anything to take back all the pain she had caused. But as she moved, Serina stepped back, her eyes wide with a fear that ripped through Alana's soul.
It wasn't the fear of the fight. It wasn't the fear of what Serina had done to herself. It was the fear of
Alana. Of the way she had pushed, of the way she had tried to pull Serina away from who she was. Serina was afraid of her.
She was afraid of me.
Alana's chest tightened as she realized the horrible truth.
I'm not her friend here...I'm the monster.
She had scared Serina into believing she wasn't good enough, that she couldn't be herself, that she had to change to fit into the mold Alana had made for her. She hadn't given Serina the space to breathe, to be free. All Alana had done was push and force and demand, never realizing that trust didn't work that way.
Real trust—the kind that Serina needed—wasn't about control, about fixing, about turning someone into what you wanted them to be. It was about acceptance, about standing by their side, even when they weren't what you hoped they would be.
The realization crashed over her in a wave of nausea. She had scared her.
She was scared of me.
Serina's face, her beautiful, tired face, twisted with sadness and fear. And all Alana could do was stand there, paralyzed by the weight of her own guilt. She had ruined it. She had ruined them.
"I'm sorry," She whispered, the words barely leaving her lips. But they felt hollow, too little, too late.
Serina's eyes flickered with something—something
pained—before she turned away, the finality of her retreat searing through Alana's chest.
And in that moment, Alana knew that she had lost her. That Serina was right.
She needed to leave. Because if Alana stayed, she would only hurt her more.
Maybe that’s who she was, at her core.
Maybe, Alana was the monster.
Maybe she just, should remain gone.
Alana would leave. Her gear, her equipment, all left behind as she would just continue on, despondent.
At least now, she finally knew who she was.