Her footfalls fell silent as she stopped in front of the row of graves, smoothing her hands over her stomach. The fabric of the traditional Mirialan mourning garb clung to her like a sickly spiderweb as the green clouds crackled with heavy lightning overhead. The carefully dug pits stretched to either side of her for eternity, disappearing over the horizon before their numbers ceased. Maybe they never did.
She stepped forward and looked down into the graves nearest her. The faces of those she loved, those she cared for, those that meant something in her everyday existence stared up at her as if caught in dreams. They lay silent and still, eyes never opening again. Slowly, her head turned, taking their faces in one last time. Jerax. Dhen. Brookes. Jerhal. Jai’enko.
The lightning finally split the sky, sending a sheet of rain onto her head. Slowly, slowly, the graves began to fill; tiny streams running down creases in cloth and streaking still cheeks like tears from the very heavens above. The thunder crashed, sending her jumping in fright as the old fear of storms crept back around the corners of her consciousness. She turned to Jai’enko as she did so often when she was young.
His grave was full. His body was gone. All that was left was darkness.
Vyen’a jerked awake with a start, heart caught tight in her throat. She blinked up at the familiar ceiling of her ship, softly lit by the ambient light system she’d had installed, before reaching to the hand of the man beside her. Even sound asleep, Jerax’s fingers squeezed back reassuringly.
It was just a dream. Only a dream. She replayed the details quickly, frowning.
The last grave gave her pause. She’d not seen her brother in almost six months, since their chance encounter on Carrick station. Though they’d talked every week since, sometimes twice, her work with the Seventh and his training and preparation with CorSec kept them out of each other’s respective circles. Even when she and Jerax had gone to Corellia, they missed each other; he was off-planet on a training exercise.
She slipped quietly from the bed, wrapping a soft robe around her naked body, and picked up her comm. Her bare feet padded down the durasteel hall of her ship until she settled on the floor next to her bar. Quickly, her fingers punched in the long-memorized comm number.
Once again, there was no answer. She took a deep breath as she waited to leave the message. This wasn’t right.
“Jai, luv, it’s Anaria. Are you okay? I’m worried, hon. I know you’re probably under heavy fire. Try to get a message out with a smuggler. We’re comin’ to Corellia. The Sith ain’ takin’ that planet too.
Jus’… get a message to your little bird. I love you, brother.”
A flick of her wrist shut the comm off.
Nothing was right. But it was only a dream. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts, and jumped in fright.
Even docked here on Carrick, she could have sworn she heard thunder.