It was hard, many years ago, to give up all that she ever knew and toss her entire life to the wind in order to survive. At least she ended up on a sympathetic planet and was taken in by a sympathetic family where she could hide. Her talents went to waste, her life dreams drastically changed and Callia eventually became complacent to a simple life of doing her work, keeping her head down and evading the Empire. Who knew that not long after her 36th birthday that her whole life would change once more.

She was reflecting on that at this very moment as she stared at the odds and ends lied out on the carpet in front of her. The insides were simple to find, pulling apart bits of hardware and appliances she had come across since they boarded the Corellian Runner.

The outside, on the other hand, was more difficult to procure. That she had painstakingly worked on nonstop when the time was available. It was a labour of love, buffed to gleaming perfection. She picks up one of those pieces before her, fingers wrapped gently around the grip. It felt familiar, like it always belonged in her hands, like it had never left her side.

“I can’t believe I’m going back to this path.” She mutters. The piece is lied back down in it’s position. Everything in it’s place…everything except the crystal. A crystal that she fishes out of an inner pocket, releasing a deep breath as she does. The crystal reacts to her touch, singing in a way she hasn’t heard in years. A soft smile spreads over her features as she turns it over in his fingers. The journey she went on to acquire that crystal came rushing back to her as if it were yesterday.

She focuses on the crystal and on the Force, opening her palm face-up as she does. The crystal glides from her hand to take it’s place amongst the other pieces that are now lifting from the ground before her. Both hands raise, positioned on either side of the floating pieces.

She’s done this before, of course she can do it again. Nevermind that it was over twenty years ago. It’s nothing like riding a speeder but there is a deep familiarity to this task that becomes easier as it progresses. The Force does the hard work and she acts as the guide. It’s a joyous feeling, one full of warmth and fulfillment. One that is so deeply a part of her, it causes her doubt and fear to melt away.

Slowly, the pieces start to assemble themselves. Crystal into energy chamber, aligned just so. Wires and screws connecting the chamber to the power cell and the blade channel. Emitter to the channel. The casing slides into place over all of this and then finally the hilt. All pieces in their place, the screws and the Force holding them together. When it’s complete, Callia reaches her dominant hand to grasp around the hilt of her weapon—of her life.

“The crystal is the heart of the blade,” She recites, “The heart is the crystal of the Jedi. The Jedi is the crystal of the Force.” It was her master who had recited this last time. That thought causes a soft pang of remorse in her chest. She must push on, taking a deep breath as she does. “The Force is the blade of the heart. All are intertwined. The cyrstal, the blade, the Jedi.”

With her thumb she activates it, a blade of yellow pure as the sun shooting from the hilt. Callia slowly gets to her feet, both hands wrapping around the hilt of her lightsaber as she holds it before herself.

“We are one.”

The Force chimes it’s approval and Callia feels a surge of rightness. This is her destiny, it always was. She strayed from the path for a time, but no longer. The Lightsaber is just the first step on a long journey forward.