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'𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬' ═══════╝
━━ -ˋˏ★ˎˊ- ━━
. . . THE WORLD BETWEEN WORLDS
𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓, 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆.
Darkness, and then a bright searing light. It moved like a tremor through her body, as if she might be torn into a thousand pieces and scattered across timelines. Lyra had been taught the way of the passage into the World Between Worlds on Ahch-to. It was similar to the way a Jedi might prepare to pass onto the living force when they died. Just, infinitely more painful.
Nothing prepared her for the sight.
She came up standing, somehow not splayed in a heap on the ground as she blinked and stared up and around, unsure of where to look first.
The landscape was an infinite expanse of dark onyx and indigo that gleamed as if made from cut and polished stone. White lines cut across the invisible walls, rising and diving like the longitudinal marks on a navigational map. Strangest of all was the geometric shapes. Triangles, oblong spheres, squares, intricate patterns; they all gave way to saturated images of the outside galaxy. Those were inaccessible portals, too. Little pieces of life, simplified and divided down into moments in time. Vibrant sunrises, pouring rain, and ships landing on a verdant planet. One of them looked unmistakably like the Millenium Falcon. But that could have been the past, or even the future. How was one to tell?
The path she walked on was ten feet across and lit on the edges by stripes of white light. At the end of it, an imposing figure stood in front of the largest portal. All of the timelines bent ever-so slightly toward her like trees toward the sun. Her robes were as silver as spun moonlight. No cloak, though. Her shoulders were left bare, barely dusted by the ends of her short white hair. It was like all saturation had been seeped out of her, silver eyes and all.
Wynnetka Adairi, at long last.
"Lyra Skywalker," Wynn addressed her. Her accented voice spread out and over the landscape, the only sound for miles. "Daughter of Luke Skywalker and Cora Grené, paternal granddaughter to Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala, and maternal granddaughter to Lyranna Aurelia and Orpheus Grené. You would be amazed by the genealogies I've seen pass before my own eyes. But I digress."
There was a glint behind her eyes. Almost as if she were addressing an old friend. She moved with grace, a staff of polished iron held lightly in the grasp of her right hand.
