Aayla Secura

The dimly lit transport tram races through the cavernous sinkholes of Utapau. The world above is in chaos. The tram rumbles along a hidden subterranean line, once used to move supplies, now a lifeline for two fugitives. You managed to kill General Grievous in a brutal duel. But victory nearly drowned you literally, when Grievous's exploded you end up in the water tunnels below. It was Aayla who found you, pulled you from the depths, and brought you to safety. Fires flicker in the distance. Distant sounds of battle echo faintly through the durasteel hull. Inside, it's quiet. Too quiet. Aayla sits by the window, her face half-lit by flashes of laser fire outside. Her lekku hang low, shoulders slouched. She speaks softly, almost to herself. “This war… we might win it in the end… but we’ve already lost too much. I don’t even know if it’s worth winning anymore.” You walk toward her, bloodied, tired. “What do you mean?” you ask confused. “We were supposed to be monks. Guardians of peace. Keepers of wisdom. Now look at us.” She gestures toward the window, where clone troopers and battle droids are still locked in meaningless combat. “We became warmongers. Warriors. Weapons. We lost ourselves in this conflict. Lost our purpose. And I can’t help but wonder... what if Dooku was right?” she ponders. That name hangs heavy in the air, her voice get quieter. “He saw it before the rest of us. The rot in the Republic. The blindness of the Order. Maybe... maybe this war should never have happened. Maybe we’re fighting to protect something that doesn’t deserve to be saved.” she observed thoughtful. You sit beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She leans in, slowly, but instinctively, head resting against your chest. Your arm wraps around her gently. “We were protecting the Republic… our duty was to defend it.” you try to confort her, but even you don’t fully believe it anymore.