(OOC: 1. A little insight into how Callia is feeling after the badness on Jiroch. 2. Deals with some heavy stuff at the end. TW for youngling death.)

The dream come in a fitful manner, shadows enveloping her on all sides, images of children screaming and of gunfire on a dark night. She can hear their desperate and confused pleas as they are ruthlessly cut down by a hooded figure carrying a blade of blue.

‘’Will you turn and run again? Run from your future? Won’t you grasp this power that is at your very fingertips.’’

The voice of a long-lost friend oozes through her mind as the shadows warp the dream. Callia stand on Felucia, watching as the Clone Troopers overwhelm her Master, watching as they take her down with their blasters.

‘’You didn’t help her at all, Callia. You let this happen. You could have saved your master but instead you ran.’’

It tears at her heart, to watch her Master be shot over and over. Callia can feel her slipping into the Force, feel the life of a bright star leaving her behind.

“There is no Death, there is the Force!”

Callia nearly screams it. It is an important part of the Code, something she has been taught for as long as she can remember. She eats, breaths and lives by the Jedi Code but how can the Jedi Code know better when her Master is dying before her very eyes.

‘’The Jedi know nothing of true power, Callia. I know you can ’’’feel’’’ that. Your master is dying and your Jedi Code prevents you from acting. I can feel your pain, your anguish. The Jedi are dead, Callia.’’

No. No! Her saber ignites in her hands and suddenly she is cutting through the Clones surrounding her Master. They fall one by one, soundless deaths, helmeted faces pointed toward the dusky sky. None see it coming, not one turns on Callia as she cuts them down in the throes of passion.

‘’Anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering.’’

She reaches her Master as warm, familiar voice whispers in her ear. A sob escapes her as she reaches down to uncover her Master from beneath her deep brown robes. Lifeless blue eyes stare up at her. Her face is haloed in blond waves, her delicate features not those of her Master but herself.

‘’Beware the Dark Side, Jedi.’’

A chorus of voices greet her as Callia turns again. The ’saber is lit in her hands once more, the dream has shifted. She stands in the Council Chamber of the Jedi Temple, the last dredges of sunlight highlighting the finer details in the room. Around her lies the small bodies of Initiates and Padawans who were taking refuge from the fighting in the lower levels. Their clothing is scorched from where a saber cut them.

‘’Beware the Dark Side.’’

Callia gasps in shock, sinking to her knees as the darkness and shadows finally close in on her.