Promises are made to be broken. Deals are made to be kept.
[The Mandalorian Season 1-2]
I do not own the Mandalorian or any of the Star Wars Universe characters/settings. I own Alora and her unique story.
Prequel to Promises and Deals --> Truth...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
When Alora opens her eyes, Grogu stands beside her in a scarily familiar place to them both. He clings to her leg tightly as Alora frantically looks around, her heart slamming against her ribs. "No..." She mutters. "This...this can't be right. Why are we here?"
Standing in the Jedi Temple, Alora trembles in place, barely able to get her bearings as voices scream around her, just like the day she left. Clone soldiers march through the hallways—she can hear them clearly while she and Grogu stand defenseless with a closed-door behind them.
"It's not real," Alora mutters. "It's just the seeing stone. You're not here."
A small girl, barely two, races by them led by a boy no older than five with his hand around her arm. The girl holds a lightsaber in her hand with a small chain of charms clanking against the metal hilt. Alora watches, tears clouding her vision as they disappear from view.
"No, focus, Alora," she says, wiping her eyes. "Think. Find Luke." She looks down at Grogu who whines against her. "We are going to find Luke, ok?" Her voice shakes, but neither takes a step forward. "Luke?" She calls out meekly.
The soldiers don't notice her as they gun down the older Jedi unable to stop them.
"Luke!" She shouts into the void. "Luke?! I-it's me! Alora! Can you hear me?!"
A chill runs down her spine. The door behind them opens with a hiss as she slowly turns her head.
"Grogu," she whispers. "Run."
Slipping her hands to her belt, she takes out her lightsabers to stop the oncoming blue one from cutting them to pieces. "Run!" She shouts at the small green creature who has fat tears running down his scrunched face. "Find Luke! Now!"
He takes off as she turns back to the image of her nightmares. "You won't get him too."
The scarred man grins—a wicked thing of horror—before taking a step back, his blue lightsaber buzzing next to him. "You've grown, Alora." His voice can't be that of a man. She knows that voice: the voice of Vader, but the man lacks any machinery. "But can you beat me?"
"You're not getting him," Alora snaps as her arms twitch. "I won't let you."
"Come on, Alora. You have to fight me." He twirls his saber. "All grown up now. Time to take me on once more."
"You're not real."
"Oh, really?" The saber moves faster than she can dodge, singeing her arm. She cries out in pain as her flesh sizzles from the burn, but she manages to keep a tight grip on her weapons. "Did that feel real to you?"
