DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc, 20th Century Fox, Timothy Zahn, Barbara Hambly, YKW and the other writers of the expanded Star Wars Universe. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
It was getting late. The bright yellow sun had long since set, leaving only streaks of pink in the sky behind it. But they were still standing in the landing bay, Callista with the Holocron in her palm, with the handsome young man who reminded her a bit of Dayved when he smiled. Dayved himself, for his part, was listening intently with his arms crossed. They stood close together, and looked a little ridiculous, having stood there for the better part of six hours as the images in the Holocron had rattled out their tales.
"So she left," Dayved said to the image of Jedi Valery Ben Skywalker. Then he gave a breathy laugh. "It's like the second part of an opera. Leave them hanging. Come on, what happened next?"
The man with the grey eyes smiled soberly. "That is not my story to tell," he said. "None of the tales in this Holocron are really mine. My mother Mara Skywalker had sought after me, on the promise she'd made to my natural mother, Jedi Callista. Now the torch was passed. Vaiya was young to accept it, and she did without even knowing it. This part is only hers to tell, for it was from this story that your ancestors came from. Listen well, and farewell."
He disappeared, and a few seconds passed. Dayved reached out with his hand and clasped the holocron from the top. "Not here," he said, realizing where they were. "Let's get inside."
"Why?" Callista asked, tossing back her red hair. "We've been out here the whole time. What does a few more hours matter?"
"It matters," Dayved said strongly as he guided her into the small lounge by the bay. It was mostly deserted, everyone having already taken their flights in and out while it was still daylight. In a few hours, the night shift would begin, and the place would flood with sentients again. But they had time, and Dayved didn't want to wait too long to hear the rest of the tale. Not that he would admit that to Callista. And not that she couldn't tell anyway just by looking at his face.
So, settling down in a private corner of the lounge, Callista pulled out the Holocron again and the first woman, the one with the hair like flowing honey, and the brilliant purple robe flowing around her, appeared.
"Hello again, Jedi-to-be," she greeted them. "My mother and my brother have shared our history. Now it is my story that you want?"
Callista frowned slightly. "From the way Jedi Valery Ben Skywalker described you as a child, you were far from..." she hesitated.
"What I am now?" Vaiya offered with a smile. "Yes. That is true. I changed much in the years to come. You see, my parents were right. I had their powers and their gifts, their loves and their hates. I had everything their blood had given me--and I had their flaws as well. The Skywalkers and the Jades have always wrestled with anger. My father, Luke Skywalker, suffered much because of his anger. He lost his hand, he was defeated and wounded by a man who would be revealed as his father. He turned to the dark side, and sought to avoid the one thing that would make him happy--my mother. Whenever he overcame his anger, great things happened. But I had not learned this as he had. Not yet. It was the time of my trial, the time I came into my own right as a Jedi.
"I ran from my home out of anger. I felt betrayed, that everything I'd been living was a lie. I did not know of the dark side influence in my family, I did not know of the dangers I was stepping into whenever I used the Force. My parents had taught me well, in the way of Master Yoda, but platitudes mean little to a young girl. When I had the vision of the war between my parents, it wounded me. I was in a state of mental pain because all the anger of the Skywalkers and the Jades had been awakened in me. My parents' confession only made it worse, because they had not trusted me sooner. If they had, I believed that the vision would not have done such damage because I would have understood it. So in a moment of anger, I ran."