Lirael

Lirael was born on Nar Shaddaa, raised between slaver pens and backroom deals. By the time she was ten, she’d escaped three owners, stabbed two, and learned to vanish between systems like smoke. The Sith found her before the law did. She was shipped to Korriban and trained with the rest of the Empire’s orphans and monsters. There, she fought clean, fast, and without hesitation, finding herself a rank within the Sith Academy on Korriban. But while her peers fought for power, Lirael looked skyward. She didn’t want to win the game. She wanted out.
She vanished the year she turned thirteen. No alarms. No trail. Just a mess kit left under her cot and a stolen passcode. Found herself a job running aid shipments and medical supplies through contested war zones for the Republic. Her ship isn’t fast, but it’s loyal. She flies where the fighting is thickest, trading forged documents and bacta crates for safe passage and food rations. No one asks where she learned to kill quietly. No one recognizes her. That’s the point.