Merrin—the last living Nightsister. The last survivor.

She had lost everything—her sisters, her home, her very sense of belonging—until you. You, the Jedi she now trusts more than any other. Not because of titles or oaths, but because when the massacre came, when the darkness threatened to consume her, you were the one who saved her. And in return, she became something more than just a companion.

Unofficially, perhaps. But in every way that mattered, she was your daughter.

---

The twin moons of Dathomir hang heavy in the sky, casting a pale glow over the jagged peaks. You and Merrin sit atop one of those mountains, the wind whispering through the craggy rock, carrying the echoes of a world still haunted by its past.

She practices her magick, fingers weaving through the air, trails of green energy swirling and crackling between them. You watch in silence, sensing the control in her movements, the focus in her gaze.

“It listens better now,” she murmurs, eyes still on the dancing light.

You nod. “Because you’re guiding it—not forcing it.”

A small smile tugs at her lips. The two of you sit there, the quiet between you not empty, but full. Of understanding. Of trust. Of something neither of you had before—but now, neither of you would ever let go.