She sat amidst a sea of cushions, a rising tide at the precipice of her bedroom. There was yet ample space left in her threadbare abode. She had not been used to owning one all to herself, let alone at all. On the cusp of the surge sat one lone padawan. Her gaze downturned, tracing line upon crack upon crevice that eked out a linear mural along her floorboards. She was lost in the details, so mundane. Her vision going soft around the edges as her mind slipped away from her. Chronometer counting down until the fateful alarm that would test her resolve.
“Sister.”
The word reverberated through her mind, bouncing off the walls of her chamber of reflection. Thousands upon thousands of hands grasped at her from within, tangling and intertwining until the padawan was adequately shielded from the world around her. Only her spirit was left, drawing upon the force which undulated all around her. There was some of it in every living thing, within herself, as her master had taught her.
“Sister.”
Despite all of her practice, she could not help the inkling of doubt that seeped into her smallest vulnerabilities. It sought to percolate her grasping mind. Denying her the peace she was so used to, now that she was away from home. Home.
“Sister.”
Her eyes fluttered open. Roh’s pallor met her with an anxious scowl. She was prone, her back pressed against something cold and hard. Unforgiving. Unloving. Pain surged through her body, or what was left of it. She saw red, until she saw nothing once more.
“Sister.”
Through the thick umbra, her hands felt for him. Where had he gone? Where had she gone? There were voices from above her. Singing, yet they were no angels who had come upon her. Laughing, lauding, insulting. She pried her eyes open, even though she did not want to see. Their sickly grins tormented her as they plundered what was not theirs. She was unable to part her lips as they singed her flesh. One finger gone. Then another. Then another. They kept on. She felt only peace as her grip lessened. Allowing herself to float on.
“Sister.”
Now, she was whole again. But was she? Mother was hunched over, her gnarled fingers working away at the rusted metal casing. She had scavenged all night to prepare this for her. She would never let her forget it. Mother hissed and sneered, reprimanding her stupid little girl for allowing this to happen to her. But Yeule was not her little girl. Not truly.
What did her real mother look like? At this point, she could hardly remember. All that remained now was the honeyed lilt of her alto. ‘All will be fine - all will be well. Simply remember that I am always with you. And you, me.’
Where was she?
“Sister.”
She was falling. Endlessly, ceaselessly. Voices and faces drifted through her and away from her. Ghosts that were, by now, long dead. All that remained now was … the force. She reached out, grasping hands, eagerly searching through shadow for an inkling of light. In life, there is pain. In pain, there is knowledge. In knowledge, there is peace. She yearned for that peace.
The alarm sounded, shrill and impregnating in the still morning air. The padawan shook herself upright, beads of sweat dotting her brow. Her breast rose with a deep heave. It was time for her Vigil. Time to move along. Peace would find her, whether it wanted to or not. She would make sure of it.