Novel & Cerita Star Wars Echoes

I watch him disappear behind the door, then turn to find Red and Vesper settling babies in the corner. “Morning,” Red says, smiling. “Hi. Rough night?” “It’s like the babies have a group chat,” Vesper laughs. “One cries, they all cry.” I nod at Red and Vesper and turn just in time to see Echo stride out of the back hallway, eyes glued to his phone like the thing owes him money. He’s so focused he doesn’t even notice me creeping up behind him, ready to pounce. He stops at the bar. “Glass of water and a glass of ice,” he orders Pearl, voice rough and distracted.

*Echoes* My pain My sorrow Reverts back at me Like a house Without a thing. I tried filling it up with Joy And love but darkness still painted them black. Maybe I'm not meant For this; I mean Happiness and Love isn't meant for me. Sadness Darkness Is where I belong and maybe suicide would be the end of me. My thoughts are blank My thinking is blocked Echoes of my empty cobwebbed mind is all I hear. *©Gemini Pride*

When I woke up again, I found myself lying in an unfamiliar room. The lights were off. Only the cold moonlight streaming through the window illuminated the blurry figure sitting beside the bed. It was Silas. He sat on the carpet with his back against the bedframe, looking strangely lonely. [Why isn't she awake yet? The doctor said it was only emotional stress combined with low blood sugar, so why has she been unconscious this long? This is all my fault. I never should've let her meet Eve.]

With that, he stood and left. Hernan looked to Dewei & Adan and said, “Let the show begin. Love storm is arriving in Philadelphia.”

Chapter 1: Fractured Homecoming Elias Kane stepped through the front door just after midnight, duffel bag thudding softly against the frame. The house felt too still. “Mara?” he called quietly but no answer. He moved into the kitchen, flipping on the light. His eyes landed on the steel watch sitting on the counter. A man's watch that's clearly not his own. “What the hell…” A car door slammed outside. Elias flinched hard, back hitting the wall as memories surged—explosions, shouting, dust choking his lungs. “Not now,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “Breathe, damn it.”

Pov: Jane Jansen I struggled to keep my eyes open through the pain as it engulfed me. He stood above me with a malicious smile on his face. My executioner. There was no pity in his cold unfeeling eyes and I stared into the cold empty dark orbs as he pulled the lever. The sound of the blade dropping was the last thing I heard while I swore vengeance on them. On all of them. Everything here was different from home. From the people to the smell to the exotic foods they had. It was an experience that made my heartbeat race, forcing adrenaline to run free across my lithe body. Tonya was glad to have me and she showed me around.

Eva’s breath caught in her throat, her body tensed, ready for whatever came next. A group of armed rebels rounded the corner, their faces obscured by masks. They were armed with blasters, their movements swift and coordinated. Ryder motioned for Eva to stay silent, his hand gripping the hilt of his blade. The rebels passed by, unaware of their presence in the shadows. Eva let out a quiet breath, relieved but still on edge.

“Tell me, Emmet, do you think Callum will ever wake up?” "No, Eloise." I glanced at the man in the distance, painting my image on the canvas, and smiled as I spoke. “From now on, I don’t need to hear any more news about him. I’ve found my happiness again.”

I pressed my hands hard over my ears, curling up in bed. However, the sharp, agonizing cries still cut through the thick walls, stabbing into my heart. It went on for a while before, finally, the noise from the main house faded away, and the night returned to its unsettling silence. The door to my room creaked open. Unsteady footsteps echoed closer. I opened my eyes. It was her—my sister-in-law, Eve. Her hair was a mess; her cheeks were red and swollen, and her eyes dull and lifeless. She had her arms wrapped tightly around her body, her fingers pale from the pressure.

Some had three eyes, some had limbs of shifting geometry, but they all had the same expression of profound, eternal loneliness. In the center of this ghost-nursery stood Leo. He looked solid compared to them. His projection was vibrant, his gold and lavender light illuminating the gloom. He was walking through the mist, reaching out his hand to a small, blue-skinned girl whose lower half dissolved into a trail of binary code. "You’re cold," Leo said, his voice echoing through the psychic link. "We are the Echoes," the girl replied. Her voice wasn't one; it was a thousand voices from a thousand dead worlds. "We are the parts the Source couldn't use. We are the memories that were too heavy for