I am no Jedi. I am no Sith. I am what remains when illusions are stripped away—when the lies of the galaxy burn to ash and only truth, raw and unkind, remains.

I was once Jedi, and I wore that title like armor, thinking it shielded me from failure. I was Sith, too—a name taken in pain and cast away in disgust.

But I am neither now. I am Kreia. A wound upon the Force. A voice that speaks when all others fall silent. I do not seek to dominate it, nor to serve it—I seek to understand it.