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Some say that pain fades with time; Alora begs to differ. Her pain—her life—has never ceased. Sure, her memories and the grief may have been tucked deep inside, but none of it matters now. In fact, nothing matters.

She spent years as a child pushing away the image of her friends dead at her feet, a blue lightsaber piercing each of them while she remained still, hidden, and unable to scream. If she could forget her fears—forget why she was so angry all the time—maybe she could be the person Yoda wanted her to be. Maybe she could prove him wrong and shove her success in his fuzzy, stupid face.

Proving Yoda wrong feels like a pipe dream now.

Darth Vader hadn't just unearthed Alora's past—a past that could very well get her executed—but it had shown Alora everything she forgot. The lightsaber the boy was holding is now hers. She can tell from the indents along the hilt, but there are no charms anymore. She hadn't remembered the general peering into the vent she hid in, only that he hadn't killed her. Most importantly, she hadn't remembered the general's name.

Now, it echoes in her mind like a funeral march.

Even as the stormtroopers drag her into the cell, dropping her in a corner, Alora remains silent, tears spilling down her cheeks without regard for her heart. She wishes it could make sense, but the universe is cruel and unyielding. Why would it grant her any kindness when it never helped anyone?

Alora stares across the room, unable to really see her companions. They don't matter now anyway. Vader knows, and Alora knows. More terrifyingly, the Empire knows.

Soft hands grip her face, but Alora barely registers the contact. Someone whispers her name like a lullaby, drawing her closer to consciousness, to understanding, but her mind refuses to acknowledge the call as if it were for someone else to answer.

"He killed them." The words rip through her throat—forbidden and burning. "I never knew...I-I thought we were—we were supposed to be safe. He was suppose-supposed to save us. Why didn't he save us?" Her eyes meet the deep brown she grew up protecting as if they were her own. "We were just children."

She can see the confusion masked by concern in Leia's eyes as the princess' thumb gently rubs against Alora's torn cheek. Leia presses her lips against Alora's temple—Alora's heart flickering with chills—before leaning her forehead against Alora's and whispering, "I don't know."

The weapons on her back burn as the door to the cell slides open. Alora cannot find the strength in her to drag her gaze away from the opposite wall, even as Lando himself stands just in front of them.

"Get out of here, Lando!" Han's voice echoes through the room.

Something soft and inviting wraps itself around Alora with a growl directed towards the businessman. Alora sinks into Chewie's embrace as Leia stands to hold Han up, positioning herself in front of Alora.

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