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It’s all just -- gone. The Republic has fallen, but not with a glorious last fight. The symbol of strength, of democracy -- the bedrock of the very universe -- has vanished. It has crumbled before its own people’s very eyes, and they were powerless to stop it. Too late to prevent what had already been set in motion. Now, the Republic is gone, sunk into oblivion and into the stillness that follows.
There is peace found in this stillness, but not that of yesterday. Yesterday has ceased to exist.
It is that of a different peace -- it is the quiet kind, the one that settles after the passing of a storm. It is the peace that is found in the solemn face of a young girl, too young for war, who couldn’t bring herself to harm those she trusted and who betrayed her. It is found in the silent tear that trickles down a best friend’s face, head in his hands as he prepares for the unknown. It is seen in the eyes of the soldier who did the unthinkable: burying those he fought alongside -- more family than anything.
Now the memory of another day lies only in a snow-dusted helmet painted orange and white. Hope has vanished, slipping away on the whisper of the wind.
Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la -- "Not gone, merely marching far away”
- Mandalorian phrase for the departed