Chapter Text
Epilogue:
The voice is soft and delicate, chasing away the nightmares from existence amidst the expansive darkness. A soothing wave of calm extracted from the repeated fears of the unknown despite my insensible proclivity to remain dangling between them. “Koko, open your eyes….” It was there again, free of the mental image I had conjured of a gaping maw, saliva-coated fangs eagerly preparing to consume whatever was left of me.
No, it was something else, but just as close. Familiar but not. ‘Ahsoka?’ I think to myself, dispelling the horrific vision entirely as I drive myself to focus on the intrusive instruction. ‘Open my eyes, but Ahsoka, they already are.’ I am consumed by a darkness so thick it is palpable. I can feel its denseness before me, around me…and inexplicably through me. I am intrigued by the conundrum, the irascible confrontation between fear and curiosity, realizing only then that the voice could not belong to the Togruta at all. That was impossible. Because I am dead.
“Open your eyes, Koko….” The instruction is framed much the same but is delivered with far more consideration, the voice inheriting a vulnerability that feels much warmer and more comfortable than before. Perhaps it is the absence of grotesque images and the conjuring of my own fear that make it so. Again, the voice is so familiar that it remains elusive and disconnected from anything recent. Yet, I strive to place it within the context of what memories I have retained. The darkness remains, yet the whispers assure me there is nothing to fear, known or unknown. For the same reasons, it would not be Ahsoka; it could not belong to Sabine or Nara, for that matter. Lulu. I can still feel her presence. The only one that would refer to me as Koko. No, not the only one.
“Ner’ha?” I finally reply.
“Who else, little one.” The voice, her voice, responded. It was my Ner’ha.
“How is this possible?” I ask, knowing full well that the answer may never come. I am suddenly stricken by the images my mind conjures again. Exceptionally clear renditions of the last time I had seen my mother alive, as well as the unintentional death that I had caused her. I am prone to my senses and can only think to weep tears into the pervading darkness, tears that would only be for my benefit. So, I choked them back and reflected on my question, willing the answer to come from within, negating the information credence from any source but myself. ‘It could only be because I had intended it so…’
“…and so, wisdom does follow you after all….” Ner’ha replies, “As it should, considering the company you have kept.”
The statement provides the opening my mind has needed for some time, an open door with which to process the improbability, if not the impossibility, of the paths I had taken, what I had witnessed, and the consequences of both. My present condition is one of those consequences, but the path that led me here could not have been altered. Here. Where? “Where am I?” The question is feasible. Perhaps the answer will allow me to breach this all-consuming darkness.
“On the eve of complimenting your wisdom, I will allow you to figure that out on your own. I have already given any instructions I can. Only you can lead yourself from the imposed darkness.” Ner’ha is compassionate but firm.
‘Imposed…. Implies choice.’ I think on that for a moment before connecting all the dots within her statement. ‘Instruction…’ What instruction? You’ve given me nothing to work with…other than opening eyes that are already open. ‘But are they?’ My mind phrases the question before I can overlook anything else. The lunacy of trying to assess the psychological nuances of the question itself through a disparate lens is unavoidable, and the comment is too quick for my better judgment, ‘Have they ever been open?’ I fight to keep inaudible.
The fear that I had acknowledged and accepted returned in its most vengeful form, willing me to answer in ways that have nothing to do with verbalization. I must face that fear once again, own it as it were before it has the potential to own me. Like a plebe on recruitment day, I force my will to engage my eyelids, to force them open despite every nuance of my mind telling me they already were. Nothing changes. The dark remains pervasive, and I remain aloof.
“Is this any different than the sight that was stolen from you, Koko? How did you adapt when the toxins of Conum Arnia worked to steal your vision from you?” Ner’ha remains on task, answering the questions I refuse to form. ‘How could you know about that?’ The thought seemed natural, but only at first. ‘Because you were there….’ I answer myself as slight flecks of a golden ribbon begin to burn back the darkness. It twists in its beauty, having no beginning and no end. It forms loops in and upon itself in the most deliberate ways, unifying its presence with each millimeter of darkness burned away within its glorious rays. And then I understand.
I close my eyes. Tight. I allow the final vestiges of the golden rays to be consumed by that eternal darkness once again, erase the flow so eager to make its presence known to me, and return myself to the thick blanket of impenetrable black. I remember the simple tactics of a quick meditation that seemed insanity only moments before and the gentle touch of the Togruta that had made that transition possible. Within my sphere, I shut off my mind and turn off my thoughts to not dilute the scene I know is coming. To be surprised by what is expected in order to appreciate it for what it is.
I discontinue trying to exist, not simply in this realm, but in any. In doing so, I succeeded in separating my mind from my heart. Now I know my answers are close at hand. Without the mind's distraction, I give my heart free reign over whatever faculties I have. It accepts the freedom greedily and begins to swell with a joy I could not have imagined, encapsulating whatever form I reside within with the compassion and warmth of my mother’s voice. More quickly than I thought possible, a full-fledged radiance shown from every possible angle, consuming the darkness with immediacy, revealing a twisting nexus of infinite golden ribbons that flowed in every possible direction. Its brilliance could never have been appreciated through naked eyes alone, but only through a direct connection to a heart given willingly.
“You have come a long way, little Koko,” Ner’ha whispers lightly. I whirl in multiple directions with a new perspective, ready to greet her comforting form with a waiting smile. But there is nothing beyond the twisting nexus of endless golden flows, each defined by wavering edge as they crossed over one another, folded themselves into each other, and in some cases passed, uninhibited, through one another. It is at this moment I become aware that I also have no form, that the ability to see in every direction comes all at once, effortless. My mind threatens to drive a wedge between the openness of my heart and the vision before me, returning me to the realm of fear. I cannot allow it. For reasons that will remain elusive beyond reason, I hear Ahsoka’s voice as an overlapping, echoing, whisper.
“Focus only comes from balance. Find your balance and work to maintain it; only then will it maintain you.”
For a moment, I am silent within myself, denying any radical objection my mind continues to offer. The woman had struggled herself with the very same, hadn’t she? And now she would follow me unto death to preach balance above all things? “No!” I know I shout emphatically, “She found her’s as I had found mine.” I cannot prevent the statement, but I am where I am because I have found that balance, after all. That realization chases my mind back to the realms of dream and fantasy because it knows I am right and can offer nothing of substance any longer. Despite the throws of what sense and sensibility remain, the only question my heart cannot answer still lies before me. “Where the hell am I?”
*******
“You see…she already possesses what is whilled for the Togruta.” The voice, resembling the octaves and harmonies of symphonic perfection, willed itself into existence without form or perspective.
“That ability is nothing so rare; perhaps congeniality has clouded your judgment?” The same voice answered itself, again the words ringing soundly with melodic precision, if not a few octaves lower.
“The given gift is already owned then…it is outside your purview to deny.”
“Would that be our purview then? A gift so rare, to manifest itself, is hardly something to covet.” The lower octave recited, its owner's sight glued to the manifested consciousness of a fallen Mirialan.
“Then our whill is fulfilled in its truest sense. With ones so pure in balance, these decisions are taken from us.”
A giddy laughter followed the statement, echoing through the trailing admission in a response that seemed to border sanity itself, “…purity of balance achieved only through the acquisition of truth.” The laughing voice finally stated although the laughter itself carried through every syllable.
“She is right. Through truth, these few have uncovered that purity.” The original voice agreed on each letter, each word, a song among the stars heard by no one.
“And I will not deny the resulting balance, but she retains her consciousness?” The lower octave rebutted as it continued to observe the twisting Mirialan through the fabric of the Force itself.
“Let us not overlook the retention of memory….she brings far too much with her; I cannot concede.” The voice registered with lower octaves still, a trembling bass that vibrated through the nexus amidst them, causing the seemingly frantic Mirialan to pause through her tumultuous whirling.
“That is why the choice will be hers…and not ours.” The original voice sang between the finite edges of nearby Force flows. “As you say, they have only found the balance through truth itself…..but only the beginning of that truth.”
“Yes…yes, let her decide her own path…she has….done well by it already.” The song became tainted, with all semblance of melody and harmony lost to chaos and turmoil. However, the welling of madness was gone as quickly as it had arrived.
“You would suggest as much, but I cannot argue your point.” The original voice brought calm and peace to the observation. “A final test, perhaps?”
“We were hoping you would ask…..”
******
I could swear there were voices just now, stake what little sanity I retain on that fact, yet nothing has changed. The flows continue unimpeded, their colors and momentum unchanged, unaltered, or unaffected, and as before, silent. The silence was as deafening as the darkness was palpable, yet I managed to work through that particular obstacle nonetheless. This is different…or is it because I know I heard voices, different..but somehow, the same. With the acceptance of something else residing with me, I fight the urge to ask my questions, certain that Ner’ha has already given me what assistance would be forthcoming.
Suddenly, the flows around me and those quite far in the distance change. They unwind themselves from one another and, in unison, flow along a straight path to a singular point well beyond any sight I possess. With the visual change, the silence is broken. Not from some verbal interaction that I expect but a foreign yet encouragingly familiar sound. The lapping of water? Like the gentle waves that would crest upon the black sand shores of the Boeringer Sea in the few warm months Mirial offered. The few weeks out of the year that could be counted with the fingers of my hands and the toes of my left foot that found the frigid waters free of the icy cap that would cover it throughout the year. Although the distance looks severe, I follow the sounds willingly.
I am not surprised when the distance traveled spanned the mortal blink of an eye, and less still when I find a scene that is quite unlike anything I have ever witnessed. Mirial’s black sands had always provided a sharp delineation between land and water, the floats of ice that refused to yield a presenting perspective. This…was anything but that. I cannot tell if land is land, where the water ends or if it even begins, nor where the sky, if there is one, meets it. An array of pastels, from greens and blues to pinks and purples, creates a disorienting confusion, but then I realize it doesn’t matter. Because I am not walking, I carry myself toward the sound of the lapping water, hoping it can deliver what my senses have failed to.
“Why. In the name of the Whills, why…did it have to be you…”
As familiar as the sound of the lapping water was, this voice is even more so. One I had come to regard as a dear friend, a staunch ally…an intimate bond. There was never a soul that was as close to me as this Zeltran had been, one that I had allowed to touch and know my very own.
“A promise made is a promise kept, T’zar.” Continuing through my statement to look beyond the confusing tapestry and find some clear definition amidst the chaos, “You did say you would find us a peaceful flow to sit aside, did you not?” I ask, turning my attention to his clearly visible form, finding only then that I had my own again. Without waiting for his response, I raise my fingers before my eyes, marveling at the intricacies of each digit, each knuckle crease, and the soft olive complexion covering them all. Instinct retracts my arms as those fingers dive for my neck and fumble, trying to locate the small device that had allowed me to breathe. All I feel is my fingers’ light, delicate tips as they trace light circles over unblemished skin.
“And a betrayal committed is a betrayal met, Ani.” T’zar responds without lifting so much as his chin, a statuary pose of cobbled resentment and melancholy.
“I am not here because of what you did, my friend. Although I do not understand your actions even now, they themselves are your burden to bear, not mine.” I say proudly, the words seemingly appearing for me to speak them without the internal prompt to do so. “We are in the same place for a reason, T’zar. Perhaps it is for you to explain yourself, or for me to hear, maybe both.”
“Ani, I will say that you have come a long way in a relatively short amount of time, but you remain naïve and, ultimately, gullible.” He finally turns his head toward me as I take up residence on my backside beside him. Whatever ground this is feels warm and soothing. “I have had my time and squandered the choice when it was presented.”
“Because you foolishly remained attached to a realm you held dear. Because you could not let go of the precept of your own mortality.” I respond immediately, the words ringing true and as stoically noble as a verbalized chant from the hill tribes of Mirial, the overlapping stanzas voiced to perfection as the whole became so much more than the sum of its parts.
“Perhaps you are not naïve at all….” he responds, turning his attention back toward the sea, or what I think is the sea. I haven’t quite worked that out yet, but I am inclined to argue that it simply doesn’t matter.
“Nor am I gullible, my friend,” I say, my own sight tragically trying to find that delineation between water and sky. “Your loyalty to her is, was, without question. What is more intimate than that? Your only mistake was pursuing the wrong sister….but how could you have known?” I continue clapping a hand respectfully on his shoulder aside me. “Nara was well out of your reach…wasn’t she?” I turn toward him.
“A fact I did not learn until viewing her on Ambria, but by then…” T’zar responds, his white, marblesque, unblinking eyes. I learn something else in the process as I focus on them exclusively, watching, waiting for some shift within his own perspective. Then, I understand that he has yet to emerge from the same darkness that held me within its embrace. He cannot see.
“…Zannah had fulfilled her pact.” I finish for him, yet my attention is shifting toward the actions I will take and what I must do because no one else will. I find a gentle pause to ease what is to come and a moment to convey the comfort I wish to bring him despite his motivations and machinations that ultimately led me here. “I do not claim to understand the bond you maintained with Cognus, only that it was important enough for you to risk everything.”
“I believed what she believed, Ani, although now I see the powers that would never have allowed that belief the light of day. The Sithari would rise again, and he would raise those loyal.” I let the comment die on his lips, working the wisdom of informing him of Ahsoka’s own proclamation both into and out of existence. Surely, one who dwells in the darkness willingly should understand that Sith prophecy is more delicate than the slight wings of a Verutian moth, more fragile than Kalderinian crystal. He should know this. “Sithari…come now, T’zar, you know where this is headed.”
“I do at that, Ani, I do.”
“Then we don’t need to fret over what would never have been, my gullibility or your fruitless gamble.” T’zar only sighs the gesture aside as he shifts uncomfortably beside me. I am certain he is fighting his inner turmoil, the demons of his own device that had carried him so far through his tragic afterlife.
I know it is time to change topics, but to offer one last gesture, I know I must. Not for my well-being or station in what is yet to come, but for my friends; yes, he is a friend. I find the acknowledgment a conundrum of sorts, but I have already let my anger recede to the point of obscurity. It is unrecognizable to me, so my friend T’zar Ek will remain.
I push myself up from the warm, solid ground that is neither stone nor sand. If it is a beach, through my understanding, it needed a lot of work, but I feel my toes push against that warm surface and turn to face the Zeltran, seated cross-legged and just as haggard-looking on the outside as I knew he was on the inside. He flinches briefly as I place my hands above his, a sudden recoil that is just as suddenly met with the same will. T’zar gently closes his hands around mine and allows me to hoist him to his feet; even now, in his current form, the muscles about his legs bulge under the purple flesh pulled tight over them. He is an imposing figure, to be sure, as I am not. I recognize that we are quite the pair, and we almost laugh audibly.
“You know that I cannot see Ani; my darkness does not recede,” T’zar tells me what I already know.
“I will see for both of us, " I tell him as I let his right hand fall softly to his side and turn to stand beside him once again, holding his left hand firmly. We both look out toward the sea and its never-ending horizon with pointedly different perspectives.
“Ani…I am afraid.”
The comment surprises me. Despite the age of the spirit beside me, fear still grips him in the form of the unknown, something I admit to myself that I have come to terms with quite well. “What do you fear, T’zar? I am with you, at your side.”
“It is not what is unknown…it is the idea, yes, the idea that I will become…. nothing.” He responds, surprising me further.
How is it that an individual so old could possess so little knowledge? How is it that I already know the answers that elude him to the point of bitter fear? The answers aren’t that hard, really. “The dark side clouds all T’zar Ek, as the light will keep you eternally bound.” Why is balance so hard to convey? “You will inevitably become everything, my friend. You will find yourself so far removed from that fear that you claim that the thought alone will confuse you.”
“That does nothing to ease my mind, Ani.”
“Then that only leaves trust, T’zar. What lies beyond my sight is meant for us both. I will not leave your side so long as you do not let go of my hand.” He responds immediately, tightening his grip around my fingers, locking us irrevocably together as we begin to walk forward.
“Tell me, Ani, what is it that you see?”
The question is quite welcome, and I know I am smiling again. My friend has accepted his fate and denied himself any further access to fear, and I know he will never let go of my hand. My vision dilutes the confusion that had taken root not long ago. As my feet find the waters, they cast ripples that die too soon, allowing me to see below the water’s surface.
I gasp suddenly, a short inhale of breath. I know I am not breathing. It is the galaxy I see below me, planets both familiar and foreign. Nebulae of the most vibrant reds and purples, Nova’s within systems I have never traveled but so much more. As vast as this sea, this ocean seems to be, together we traverse the stars in a matter of steps. I know it is not my own galaxy that I am seeing, but all of them. Every three steps bring us both to a different one, the colors unimaginable as they swirl together. I stop to take it in, squeezing T’zar’s hand tight in my own. “I see….I see everything T’zar….everything!”