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The Temple gardens are warm and peaceful, and it’s always been one of Callisto’s favorite places to meditate. The small copse of trees she sits in doesn’t block the sunlight from reaching her, making it one of her usual spots if no one else is already present.
As she is coming out of her meditation, a ball rolls between the thin tree trunks, coming to a stop when it hits her knee. The sound of young voices immediately follows and Callisto smiles to herself before rising, scooping up the ball as she steps out to find four initiates who visibly brighten when they see the toy in her hands.
She remembers them from one of the lightsaber forms classes she’s taught. A Nautolan boy, Knox she remembers, steps forward to take the ball from her.
“Thank you, Padawan Miretha,” he says when she hands it to him. Callisto smiles at him and gives a small nod in return.
“What are you playing?” She asks the children.
The human girl, Bene, she’s pretty sure, rocks forward on her heels. “Slap ball.”
Callisto hums in response, but before she can wish them well on their game and leave to meet her master, she notices the Cerean boy looking at her intuitively, hesitating to say something. She gives him a kind smile and a nod of her head. “Yes?”
He looks to his friends, unsure, before turning back to her and blurting, “Padawan, are you from Dathomir?”
The other children round on him in an instant. “O-mer!” The twi’lek hisses. “Don’t ask her about that!” The other two are grimacing and looking at her with a trace of chagrin.
Callisto frowns at the reaction from a seemingly inoffensive question. Mostly, it has only been other Zabraks that have been able to notice her mixed heritage; other species tend to just assume she is fully Iridonian. Interesting that a child would ask that.
”My mother was,” she responds in an even tone. “And I have visited. Why do you ask?”
They look to each other before Bene decides to answer. “Master Drallig let us watch him spar against the simulation of the Sith from Naboo today. He said he was a Zabrak from Dathomir.”
It’s been three years since the revelation of the Sith’s continued existence, but the reminder still makes her uncomfortable as it did everybody else in the Order. The High Council had asked her about the Sith when they were first investigating. She had confirmed to them that he was Dathomirian, and likely a Nightbrother, though she couldn’t be sure.
“Yes, he likely was,” she says, and she has a feeling of what they are hoping to hear as their eyes light up with interest, and she could tell ghost stories and legends from Dathomir and even Iridonia, but every reminder of that Sith unsettles her every time she looks at a holo of him. Nightbrothers do not have much autonomy, and the likelihood of one escaping the Nightsisters feels slim. She can’t saY for certain, but she believes that the Nightsisters gave him to a Sith lord in exchange for something, and she told the council as much.
“Is there something you wish to know about Dathomir?” She asks O-mer.
He thinks for a moment, before saying sheepishly, “No, padawan.”
Callisto nods absently, and while they haven’t necessarily given up the investigation into the dead Sith, it has stagnated after she returned from her trip to her mother’s home last year, her Master having found nothing while she was completing her rites of passage. There is just something about it all that hasn’t sat right with her since the first time she saw his image.
“Well let’s go back to our game, then,” Knox’s voice breaks her out of her thoughts. “Sorry for disturbing you, Padawan Miretha.” He physically drags his friends away, and Callisto wants to call out that they hadn’t disturbed her, but she supposes, in a way, they did.