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There was once a woman named Filkie, who knew a hundred songs. Songs for working and songs for resting, songs for dry, dusty summers and bitter, icy winters, songs for celebrations and songs for mourning. And then there were the story-songs, dozens of them, light-hearted children’s songs and the scary ones meant to teach valuable lessons, family histories and ancient myths, all of which, in an ideal world, Filkie would have passed down to her children, just as her mother had passed them down to her.
This world was very far from ideal.
Filkie’s only child by blood couldn’t hear her anymore- or perhaps it was only the living who couldn’t perceive the child, who knew. But there were plenty of other children willing to listen, even if none of them had Filkie’s gift for memorization, nor her voice.
Of all the songs, young Dezri’s favourite was the one about the clever shadow child who hid in the dark and caused plenty of mischief for the overseers, making daring escapes by slipping through all the little places they couldn’t go. The child in the song got too reckless in the end, hiding so far in the dark that they were never seen again. But Dezri didn’t necessarily think that ending was a bad one. After all, the child, wherever they were, was free.
When Dezri was no longer a child herself, but not quite yet an adult, she was transferred to Korriban. From there, her path led to the Sith Academy, where she learnt of a very different type of darkness, one that had to be both embraced and harnessed. She didn’t fully understand, but she did well enough- better than all her fellow acolytes at least, as evidenced by her being the only survivor.
But maybe the darkness was not so different from the one in the song after all, because the Sith Code told her it would bring her freedom, but her friends seemed worried about her getting lost within it, never to be seen again. Dezri did not worry. She’d figure out how to navigate the darkness- how hard could it be?
When Dezri was grown, she had no children of her own to teach any story-songs to. By then, Filkie rarely thought of her anymore, nor of Jek’ar, who had followed her. They were gone from the older woman’s life as so many before them, hopefully to better prospects, quite possibly to worse. That was simply how things were.
Until the day Dezri came back.
Once surprise followed another, and Filkie and every other slave in the camp found themselves free. Many of them had no idea what to do with it, other than celebrate, of course. Dezri apologized to Filkie, in the awkward manner of someone no longer used to doing so, for being unable to keep Jek’ar safe. What an odd concept, to think that young Dezri had grown up into someone with enough power to be responsible for lives other than her own.
Filkie said her goodbyes early, and left while the others were still celebrating. She had a galaxy to see, and an heir for her songs to seek.
The last remainder of Dezri’s old life walked away, and Darth Nox let her go.