Who are you?
Three words a girl read off the white board after sitting down at a desk.
What teacher thinks that of all things is a good icebreaker for the first day of seventh grade?
How was she supposed to answer it anyway?
Name, age, hobbies? All of the above?
Who are you?
Well, she knew her name, though she hated a third of it: Luna Snow Ramsey. Age was easy enough: 13. Hobbies: Star Wars.
That enough?
Who are you?
It's harder than it sounds, to answer that question.
At least it is if you've been trapped in carbonite for an unknown period of time.
Her name is Luna, but she goes by so many others: Vader's Shadow, Eclipse, Jinn Rose, Ana Star, Sith, Lady, girl, young one, Princess of the Empire. Sometimes she doesn't know if she's actually any of them.
Maybe she should ask her Master.
She smiles, shaking her head. No need, she knows his answer: "You are my apprentice."
That is more than enough.
Who are you?
The words raced around her mind. She was dreaming. This was a dream. She knew who she was.
So why was she panicking? Why did she feel as though every piece of her identity was being ripped away?
She was on Earth—no, she wasn't.
She was with her Mas—he wasn't her Master. And even if he was, he wasn't there. Or was it she wasn't there? Was it both?
She was alone. She wasn't alone. She was. She wasn't.
Panic in her mind. Fire in her veins.
Luna was looking at a girl on the other side of an open doorway, though it looked like a split personality, as though there was a line in the middle of the girl's features. Like a drawing. She was saying the words, repeating over and over, but they molded and twisted into Who am I?
She shook her head, trying to convey she didn't know, but the girl in front of her did the same, long sandy blonde brushing back and forth across the girl's back in waves. Luna watched for a moment, recalling her horrid straight black hair, temporarily jealous of this clueless girl on the other side of the gilded doorway—at least until she noticed the eyes, left gold, right sky blue.
Luna opened her eyes in the darkness, unable to recall the nightmare she just had.
All the same, the first thing she did was grab her hair, checked it's color, it's shape.
Black as night and straight as the horizon line.
YOU ARE READING
On the Wings of Valkyrie
FanfictionM̶y̶ ̶n̶a̶m̶e̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶L̶u̶n̶a̶ ̶S̶n̶o̶w̶ ̶R̶a̶m̶s̶e̶y̶.̶ No. M̶y̶ ̶n̶a̶m̶e̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶L̶u̶n̶a̶ ̶S̶n̶o̶w̶. Never has been. My name is Luna. I̶ ̶a̶m̶ ̶E̶c̶l̶i̶p̶s̶e̶.̶ No. Not anymore. My name is Luna. And I'm a Rebel. This is not a stand alone story, it...
