“… and that’s about it so far,” I said as I sat in my quarters, the holocron in front of me glowing as its gatekeeper listened carefully to my words. “I’m sure there’s more to come in the Apprentice classes, but I’ll not know that until tomorrow.”
It had been about a month since we’d arrived on the planet and begun training, and I was finally moving up. Spending that month in a class with young learners had been irritating, but I had endured it. Beyond it feeling like a test from Aranaris and the other elders, I knew that you had to crawl before you walked. Or in this case, understand the element you wished to Shape before attempting to do anything more than summon it to your hand.
Those I’d be joining in the Acolyte group were closer to my age, though most were in their mid-teens while I was eighteen. Amusingly, the names the Shapers had for their ranks, were a mix of ranks the Jedi and Sith had used. Or at least older Sith orders. After Apprentice, there was Warrior, Knight, and then Master for your chosen element.
Interestingly the tribe that the Force had guided us to specialised in Fire Shaping. I’d half expected that given the tattoos of the Shapers in the tribe, but it was nice to have the confirmation as that was the element both Anakin and I were most inclined toward using. We both had some inclination toward Air Shaping, but that wasn’t going to be learnt currently.
Regardless of the tribe, Shapers learnt to master a single element first. then, if they had the inclination and desire, they could learn another. Thus, someone like my trainer, Master Walrion, could be a Master of one element, but an Apprentice of another. Those who could master two or more elements were the Grandmasters of their culture, with those rare individuals who could master all four elements were considered a Supreme Master. From what the tribe knew, there was no Supreme Master currently, but that wasn’t uncommon. Not only were they a semi-isolated tribe on the remotest continent, but Supreme Masters’ only seemed to be born in times of great strife.
Within the tribe, there were a handful who could wield multiple elements, with them often in positions of importance. Interestingly, the Shapers considered one’s primary element as a guide to the sort of person they were.
The rarest of elements as a primary was Earth. Those who could shape it were regarded as incredibly dependable and practical. In battle they were considered if they had mastered the element, the most difficult opponent to overcome; much like a mountain, they could be near-impossible to disrupt or knock over without an insane amount of power used against them.
Water Shapers, like Earth Shapers, were considered dependable as well but were generally calmer and more reserved. Those who mastered the element were said to be able to sense the gentlest of changes in another’s emotional state and knew exactly what to say to help those with which they were speaking. Water Shapers were highly sought after as tribunal members – their version of courts – and diplomats to send to other tribes due to them, like water, being able to flow around obstacles to reach their destination.
Air Shapers were regarded as free spirits. They often wandered the land, travelling from tribe to tribe, guided by their curiosity about what lay over the next hill. They were also the best for creating new ways of doing things, that same drive of curiosity helping shine their mind toward seeing things in ways few others could. Given Anakin’s ability with technology, it wasn’t a surprise that he was considered almost as strong with Air as he was with Fire by the Masters. I lacked the cutting insight he had, but my drive to wander and explore showed I had an affinity toward Wind as well.
However, for both of us, Fire was where our hearts lay, and after learning of what it represented, that wasn’t a shock. Fire Shapers were bold, aggressive people; those willing to rush into danger to help others. Their passions burnt bright, leading them to do what needed to be done. However, that same drive could also be a problem if the Shaper didn’t learn to overcommit and do the wrong things for the right reasons. If they learnt to temper that heat, then Fire Shapers were considered the greatest of warriors and commanded armies when tribes went to war.
“Interesting,” Adas commented as he stood still having listened to my report. “This blade they had you train with, show it to me.”
Since we were in my cabin, a good few kilometres from the settlement, I reached out and used the Force to do so. The blade floated up into the air, turning along its axis to show all points to the ancient Sith King.
The blade was about the length of my beskad, which was longer than most such Mando’ade weapons, and a touch heavier. It was also blunted as while Master Walrion and her helpers weren’t against trainees striking each other with their blades, they didn’t want unnecessary damage done to us. The blades thus left bruises when they struck, or at least they did if wielded by some with the strength to do so.
While I had to hold back on my blade work while training to become an Acolyte – because of the age and skill of my groupmates – I hoped that wouldn’t be the case from tomorrow as I began studying to become an Apprentice Shaper. Regardless of that, I would still have to hold back with using the Force, at least externally. There hadn’t been any instances with the children where there’d been an instance when drawing on the Force would be the easier choice, but I knew that wouldn’t last. While he might have more need of drawing on the Force to defend himself, Anakin was doing well at not doing so. I could only hope that remained the case over the coming months.
“A teaching weapon, one sadly blunted to avoid injury. I would have ensured the blade was at least partially sharp, to remind the younglings that it wasn’t a toy, but I can understand why that isn’t the case, and why they gave you such a blade when training with their youngest potential warriors.” I ignored the comment about having to train with children, as it was one I’d snapped at myself about on occasion over the last month. “It certainly isn’t on par with your beskad, to say nothing of the weapons my armies wielded, but I can see potential in its design.”
“They use the Force to strengthen their blades,” I said as the training weapon continued to rotate around in the air. “Nothing like how the Force was used in the creation of the war blade Plagueis gave me, but from what I’ve heard, it’s the same principle as what I learnt from the Jedi about how to strengthen any object with the Force if there is a need to do so temporarily.”
“While that is probably true, you should still listen to their methods on the unlikely chance they offer an insight you had not yet considered.” Adas paused. “When will you consider training with the war blade?”
“Probably not for some time, and even then the beskad will remain my choice as my secondary weapon.”
“Understandable, but you shouldn’t discount a Force-forged blade as an option. The blade you have is powerful, though not comparable to the axes I wielded in war. Ones so powerful they could shatter the hulls of those who thought to invade and conquer those I ruled over.”
“The Rakata.”
The gatekeeper nodded. “Yes.” He paused for a moment. “It is interesting that your ancestor has history with them; or at least one of their great war machines. Almost as if it were a sign that through the Rakata, we were destined to meet.”
“Perhaps.” My response was noncommittal as I didn’t want to even hint that my choice of Revan as an ancestor was an active choice on my part.
“I remain disappointed that this Star Forge is gone. The potential for it to help us prepare for the wars we sense coming would’ve been immense.” I nodded, agreeing with the sentiment even if I was glad the Star Forge was gone. Something that powerful, if it fell into the wrong hands, had the potential to fuck up the galaxy if given time to prepare for war. “Returning to the Shapers, they have potential as useful warriors in an army, but they remain limited by flaws in their beliefs. Flaws I’m sure you are well aware of.”
I chuckled, knowing full well he wanted my opinion on the Shapers. The tricks he used were the same as ones I used with Anakin, and that Dooku had used when training me as his Padawan. The difference between Adas and myself was that I was trying to have Anakin focus on the ideals of the Jedi. Those lessons weren’t sinking in well, and it was clear now – if it hadn’t been a year ago – that he wasn’t cut out to be a Jedi: at least as how the Council would expect.
With Adas, while he spun his words well, he wasn’t hiding his intent to teach me how to draw upon, wield, and dominate the Dark Side. The only upside was that his teachings were based on what true Sith would’ve learnt, and not what those in the Banite Order had followed for nearly a thousand years. Yes, that plan was working, but it didn’t feel like the correct choice to take.
I often wondered if Bane had somehow learnt from Revan, as he was one of the few Old-era Sith who had used a Rule of Two. Learning the truth was highly unlikely, but the question was one of many that I had linked in numerous ways to my ancestor. Of course, to get answers, I’d either have to wait for him to reappear and speak to me about them, or somehow discover information from the Banite Sith.
That was something for far into the future, and I replied to Adas’ comment. “Their ability to harness the world around them, to shape and use it how they do is impressive. Perhaps even beyond what most Jedi and Sith could do. However, that is because the Jedi and Sith embrace a wider view of the Force and how it should be used.” There was more to it than that, but that was the answer I felt Adas wanted to hear.
“Yes. Against a properly trained Sith, or even a Jedi, most of the Shapers would be little to no threat. Their Masters, however, might well be more effective against Sith Warriors or Jedi Knights, but in a prolonged conflict, their narrow-minded views would result in their deaths. Now, if they chose to work in concert, ambushing a Jedi Master, they might well stand a chance of taking them out; provided of course, that the Jedi Master in question was caught unaware.” A nod came from me, signalling my agreement even as Adas continued.
“As you said, the flaw in their beliefs is their greatest weakness. It does, paradoxically, offer great strength as one who focuses heavily on a certain aspect of the Force can overwhelm others who aren’t as well versed. The challenge, as both agree, is that these Shapers focus too narrowly on how they use the Force. However, if there was a need for a combat-capable Force sect in war, the Shapers have the potential to be extremely effective; particularly if deployed in situations designed to maximise their skills.”
Again, I nodded as I had already added the Shapers as a potential resource to draw upon when it came time to be a coalition to challenge both the Republic and the CIS. Such a coalition would be termed as Separatists by Republic media, but I had no intention of allying with the majority of the CIS, or at least the mega-corporations that ruled it from the shadows. Those who genuinely believed that the Republic had failed them and also disliked the companies that provided the power to the CIS were potential recruits for my forces, as were those Republic worlds who stayed with it simply because of hatred toward the mega-corporations, or who didn’t want to change from one suffocating overload to one far worse.
Taking time to train Anakin and myself was a risk, but with Gunray and his closest subordinates removed from the board, and Dooku shifted away from becoming a Banite Sith pawn, I felt I had time to do so. Those actions would delay the Banite Sith’s plans, though I wasn’t foolish enough to believe that it had ended their plans. With Damask as Co-Chancellor, they held more political power than they might have in the other timeline and now had ways to circumvent Republic laws about time in office without rushing to generate a crisis.
What might work in my favour there was that it was uncertain how Republic courts would rule on the idea of someone serving three terms as Co-Chancellor while being elected twice. The matter was already being discussed on the Holonet, though if it were brought before the courts, I knew the Banite Sith would move to ensure the ruling was in their favour.
That was why I’d dropped the hint about Maul being involved in the attack on Sojourn. Sidious was actively seeking to remove Plagueis, but I felt the Muun wasn’t aware of that threat. At least he wasn’t until the reveal of Maul’s actions. Now, if things went even slightly well for me, Plagueis would begin to distrust everything Sidious told him. Not only would that generate the smallest of wedges between the pair, but it could unravel a few threads in their plan. I just had to be ready to pull on those threads to further weaken them before the Clone Wars erupted.
“This trial you underwent to become an Acolyte, what did it involve?”
“Nothing more than proving my competency with what was taught, but wielding the Force to control fire and with a blade. While easy to manage, I’ve had to be cautious with how quickly I’ve mastered their instructions, not wanting to risk giving away that I have prior training.” So far, that had worked, but I knew there were a few voices from some of the younger Shapers that my rate of improvement was far too good to be anything but due to previous training. I was going to have to be cautious going forward, as there was a chance that someone would place me in a situation where to avoid harm, I had to draw upon the Force in ways not yet taught to me.
“For the Apprentice trials, the blade will be replaced with one sharpened, though not to levels that could cause a fatal accident. However, I’m told the goal of those trials isn’t to defeat your opponent with the blade but to show your understanding and control of your chosen element is enough to allow advancement to more difficult training. I assume to do that, it requires creativity and ingenuity to if not defeat, then out-move my opponent. If it's clear that one fighter is superior to the other, the Masters will step in to avoid potentially fatal injury, but I’m unsure of anything more.”
I intended to pass the Apprentice trial as, beyond wanting to advance as quickly as possible, that would be the second of five objectives for my time with the Shapers. I’d passed one by advancing to Acolyte, but the higher ones – to become a Warrior, Knight, or Master – were beyond me. at least with me intending to not spend more than half a year on Kro Var.
“Hmm,” Adas began as he considered my words. “I understand the choice to not use fully sharpened blades, but is it disappointing. One cannot determine what a potential warrior is capable of unless they are placed in mortal danger. A lesson you have learnt several times in your life, from when you were attacked by Sith as a youngling, through your trial with the Mandalorians and up to the challenge the Sith Assassin gave you on Naboo.”
I’d told Adas much about my adventures to prove I was worthy of his training, to see how he would react, and slowly earn his trust. So far, it seemed my stories had worked with Adas, and he was willing to teach me what I wanted. I was aware he wanted me to go further and faster down the path he intended, but I was being cautious. The Dark Side would swallow me whole if I entered it without fully understanding it. Indeed, I suspected that it was only because of the Interface that I hadn’t fallen during the events with the Bando Gora and Vong. I’d lost that protection now, and while I was open to learning what I could use of Adas' teachings, I didn’t want to fall as deeply into the darkness as he did.
“Ritual combat is something to be encouraged,” Adas continued, “and hearing the Shapers, like the Echani and Mandalorians use it, reminds me of my youth. I had to scratch and claw for everything I earned, be it proving my worth to my tribe to uniting my world under my banner. However, from how you describe it, it’s clear that the Shaper duels are but pale imitations of what a warrior should face to prove their worth. Nor do I expect that, when battles between tribes take place, the victor savours their triumph by drinking the blood soup from their defeated enemy’s skull.”
“I haven’t heard anything about how disputes between tribes are handled, nor do I suspect I will,” I replied, pushing aside all my distaste for what he’d mentioned. He knew I wasn’t going to do that or things like it, but continued to mention them as if to judge if I was unworthy of continuing to train under him.
He might claim that there was power in drinking the blood of someone strong in the Force and that it could be used in various rituals and incantations, but I had shab’an interest in doing that. Now or ever.
“Understandable, but I expect if you did, I would be disappointed by their rules. Few species have the resolve and power to truly delve into the Force as a warrior should.” While his tone was neutral, I could catch the slight inflexion that hinted at his disappointment. “On the topic of combat, have you given any further thought to how to rebuild your lightsaber?”
“Not heavily, no,” I replied, knowing he was meaning my main blade. The yellow shoto blade was a backup weapon for me, and until Anakin created his lightsaber, the one he was training with when time allowed. “I want to attempt to rebuild or repair the crystal, and intend to use beskar or phrik as the coating of the hilt, but beyond that, nothing.”
I had spent the year-plus since the lightsaber’s destruction acting more as a Mando’ade than a Jedi, but not having the hilt at my waist continually left me feeling incomplete. The crystals, including the Mantle of the Force, were all aligned completely with me, yet I hadn’t found anything on how to repair the damage done to the micro-crystal that formed part of the focusing array within my old lightsaber.
If I wished, I could’ve taken a random crystal from my Inventory – I had ten such crystals – and used that in a lightsaber, but the microcrystals had been the ones I’d found in the crystal cave on Ilum. I’d worked to find them; facing, and defeating visions of two possible extreme paths I could walk in the process, and not using them in a new lightsaber was wrong. Thus, I preferred to at least attempt to repair the damaged crystal, or failing that, work to find a new one.
“Then perhaps it is time I offered an alternative to blindly searching in the hope of finding a suitable replacement. During my lifetime, lightsabers were unknown, but due to previous holders of this holocron, at least those who proved themselves worthy of my instruction, I have learnt several secrets related to them and other powers. One such secret is how the Sith craft crystals for their weapons.”
“You mean the reason every Sith lightsaber uses a red crystal?” I asked slowly, my thoughts turning to lessons with the Jedi about how unlike them, the Sith didn’t seek out a crystal. Instead, the Sith crafted such things from their hatred and rage, from the darkest depths of their souls. According to those lessons, the Jedi claimed a true Sith lightsaber was weaker than a Jedi one because the crystal was not forged naturally by the Force. I suspected the Sith claimed the opposite, but while I had crystals from Sith, the last time I’d Observed them, nothing had been revealed to suggest either side was telling the truth.
“Yes. The process was revealed to me many millennia ago but one of the few worthy of learning at my feet.” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the arrogance of the gatekeeper, thinking those who’d come before me had been beneath him. Adas had been a warrior king, ruling for centuries but that was but one world in a galaxy of hundreds of thousands of them. “The process, rather amusingly, has its roots in techniques and rituals dating back to before even my rise as the Sith’ari.”
“Who taught you?” I asked, ignoring Adas referring to himself as the Sith’ari – their Chosen One. The title, given his rule lasted for centuries, only ending when he drove the Rakata and all their advanced Dark Side-powered technology from Korriban, was well earned. I wanted to hear who had once owned this holocron, as that might well grant me the chance to plot the rough course it had taken over the mill…
“Freedon Nadd.” The mention of that name knocked me out of my thoughts. “You have heard of him?” Adas asked, seeing the shock on my face.
“He lived before my ancestor did,” I replied slowly, drawing on studies in the Jedi Archives. “He conquered Onderon and ruled there for upwards of a century before the Jedi arrived and, so they claim, defeated him and his followers easily.” There was more to the story, much more, but this wasn’t time to reveal everything I knew of Nadd.
“Yes, I was made aware of his defeat several centuries later by the next who proved themselves worthy.” A deep, almost guttural chuckle came from the gatekeeper. “It was not long after learning of Nadd’s fate that the matrix of this holocron went dormant. Remaining so until you awoke me from my slumber.”
Well, that would make plotting the holocron’s route considerably easier, though there were still massive holes in it. Not least how my mother managed to gain possession of it, and stored it with her belongings in the Vault on Ordo.
“This process, what exactly is involved?” There was no harm in hearing about it, though I was hesitant to consider it any further than that.
“I sense reluctance in your tone.”
“Obviously.” My response was dry, and lacking in detail. “Trusting the words of a long-dead Sith, even one as powerful as yourself, without question would be beyond foolish.” Plus, I was concerned about heading further down the path Adas wished for me to walk. I wasn’t going to follow his intentions. No, I would forge my own path through the Force in the coming decades.
Another deep, guttural chuckle rippled from the holocron. “If you followed my words blindly, then I would be even more hesitant to instruct you than I currently am. Teaching other Jedi the fallacies taught by their Order is an effort I have grown weary of over the countless years since this holocron was created.
“That said, the fact you are aware of the dangers my lessons contain and how my desires don’t entirely align with yours, is a sign that your mind is more open to the truth than the magnitudes of failed Force users that have or will exist in this galaxy and beyond.”
I smirked, amused that my logical unwillingness to completely trust Adas had, in some small way, earned me some of his respect. I felt I now knew, after a year or so of truly learning from him, what he wanted to hear and how, but that didn’t mean I was always honest with him. That was a dangerous path to walk.
Adas had ruled his people for hundreds of years, and this holocron was over twenty-seven thousand years old, so this gatekeeper had had more than ample time to learn and evolve further. Yet for all that I was learning from him, I had no intention of heading down the deeper, darker, and more dangerous paths he wished to show me.
With war slowly forming on the horizon, I knew that I would have to fight, that I would have to do things many might consider horrible if not downright diabolical. However, if that was what it took to defeat the Banite Sith, and correct the failings of the Jedi and the Republic, then I would do so. There were just some lines I refused to cross.
Learning exactly how the Sith forged their crystals wasn’t one of those lines. “What exactly is required to create such a crystal?” I asked, wondering if it might offer some insight into how to, if not repair then at least reforge my damaged microcrystal.
… …
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… …
The blade in my hand flashed, cleaving through the arrow of fire arcing toward me. The Force coursed through the blade, bending to my will as the flame dissipated, leaving only faint embers where its threat had been.
The memory of my first mistake in Acolyte training burned hotter than the flame itself. I’d learned then that pride could sear deeper than fire. Now, standing at the threshold of my Apprentice trials, there would be no such error—no hint of weakness.
The Acolyte trials had been mere sparring matches within the safety of the settlement. The Apprentice trials were harsher, with six tests in a single day, each demanding more than the last. Failure meant half a year’s wait, an eternity to someone who had already lingered here for five long months. Victory was my only path forward.
Four trials had passed, three ending in duels where my opponents, consumed by resentment, had faltered, and fallen before my steady hand. But this one—a boy my age, cautious and sharp—held his ground, sensing that I was no easy target. I felt his rage, raw yet focused, stirring his attacks with force, but it was nothing compared to what I held within. Since Anakin’s abduction, I’d honed my emotions to a lethal edge. But here, that edge remained sheathed, restrained. The time to reveal myself had not yet come.
The dying embers of his fiery arrow gave way to a flick of my wrist, sending five bolts of flame hurtling toward him. Each bolt was a distraction, an irritation, calculated to make him falter. His blade rose to meet them, and he retaliated with a wave of fire, pushing it forward with all the focus of his intent.
I met his fire with my own, conjuring a wall of flame. In the midst of the blaze, I surged forward, my beskar-arm braced against the searing air, cutting through the flames like water. He knew what that arm could do, having seen me send another opponent to the ground with a single strike. His blade rose, deflecting, creating an opening I could have seized—but restraint kept my power in check. Not here, not yet.
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Our world narrowed to the rhythm of combat, the Force binding us in a ritual dance of fire and steel. Shadows flickered at the edge of my vision, where the Masters watched, unaware of the true power I kept veiled. My blade shifted, gripping the hilt with both hands as flames spiralled around my beskar limb. The boy’s eyes widened, his stance faltering as he watched the fire coiling around the metal.
He raised his free arm, desperate to deflect, but his fear betrayed him. The strike was mine—until a resonant bang shattered the silence. The sound jarred me, just enough to miss my mark, my fist glancing past his form. A surge of fury flared within, raging against the interruption, yet I forced it into a cold, tempered edge.
The Keeper approached as I surveyed the boy, his robes singed, marked by flames. I remained untouched. I’d won, though no one would call it victory. The true question was whether the restraint I’d shown, the power I’d kept veiled, would be understood.
The man offered us a smile once closer. “You both fought well and while neither achieved victory, I judge that you are both ready for the final trial.” As he spoke, another member of the Hall – easy to determine by the deep brown clothing they wore, similar in many ways to Jedi robes though without much of the undergarments, moved forward. Knowing what he wanted, I twirled my blade around and presented the hilt to him and my opponent did the same. “That will come this evening after you have both rested and recovered from your previous trials.”
We bowed to the Custodian, accepting his words though I felt ready to face whatever the final trial was right now. I knew that was adrenaline and my lust for battle talking, but with the Force under my command, I didn’t fear any of the others fighting to become Apprentices nor would I lash out and break my cover simply to satiate my urges.
The Custodian offered me a smile. “You show remarkable ease for an off-worlder with sliding into alignment with The Gift.”
I smiled back, having faced this question multiple times during my time with the tribe. “When one is born into warfare, one learns to accept every advantage one has. However, it was only recently that I learnt why I had an advantage of knowing how and when to move before it happened; one I trained with another sect before coming to Kro Var.”
“Yes, I have heard you trained with a group called the Matukai,” I nodded confirming that, “once your trials are over, regardless of how you fare in the final test, I would enjoy speaking with you about the training you did there. There is wisdom in studying how others view The Gift and how it is used.”
“Certainly, though they are the only other Force sect I’ve visited with my son. I have interacted with the Jetii, but I’ve never asked them much about their philosophy, and from what I understand, your people have little trust in the Jetii because of how they use the… Gift.”
“Indeed.” The Custodian turned after getting in the final word and walked away. After giving my opponent a nod, I turned and moved toward where those from the tribe I had trained with were gathered, savouring the understanding that only the time limit had saved my opponent from defeat. He might still have been granted permission to attempt whatever the final trial was, but I suspected that wouldn’t have been the case.
As I moved, my smile grew wider as I revelled in how easy it was becoming to slip into the Force; to have it flow around me, granting me insight of what to do and when while ensuring it did as I wanted. It’d been over a year and a half since taking Natural Selection and it was almost instinctual to do so, though I understood that coming to continually rely on it risked leaving me open to moments when the Force was either blocked or when another had greater domination over it than I had.
I’d spent thousands of hours, most nights since I barely required sleep, deep in meditation working to align the Force with my goals, to ensure it was my ally and not my enemy. Now, there had been moments, lasting no more than a nanosecond, where the Force seemed to hesitate, not wishing to aid me as I desired, but those were becoming less common and so far in my training, yet to expose me to true danger.
“You passed!” The exclamation came from Pamaris, one of my fellow Acolytes from the tribe. Most of the others were reluctant to get close to me, fearing me as an outsider, but Pamaris wasn’t. That may well be because his inclination lay with Water and Wind, as it made him inquisitive and patient with others. Pamaris had passed all four stages of the trials as well, while most of the other students hadn’t, which probably explained the glares I was getting from them.
Their opinion, however, didn’t matter. Nor did Pamaris’ nor even Master Walrion in all honesty. All that mattered was completing as much of the training as possible in the remaining month or so I intended to spend on Kro Var. Each day remained a challenge, needing to walk the fine line between showing impressive regular improvement and not having that improvement be too great, and thus risk discovery of what I truly was.
Some of the other students in the tribe, and even a few Warriors, had attempted to force me to break my façade, going so far as to carry out actions that had left me slightly wounded. The urge to lash out, to strike them down for their actions remained strong, but I was better than my base desires; certainly, better than those fools who dared challenge my power. The only thing that might, conceivably have me break cover would be a threat against Anakin.
Only one Warrior had even suggested that, and after I’d beaten him down viciously for the threat – without drawing on any Force power I might add – the village had understood that I wouldn’t tolerate such comments or behaviour toward my son. That warrior, once the matter had been deliberated on by the Elders, had been sent on with a caravan travelling for months to one of the few cities on the continent. They had yet to return, which was good for the pitiful excuse for a warrior. If he suggested going after Anakin again, I wouldn’t be as lenient in my response. Nor hold back on revealing the full extent of my power to him and his tribe.
Now, while I’d kept myself distant from most of those I was studying alongside, by choice and by circumstance, Anakin hadn’t, which was entirely expected. He was very much a people person, always seeking the best in others. Two of his group, a pair of twins not born in the village, had become his newest friends.
It was this ability of Anakin’s to make friends and seek the best in them, that I felt had been exploited by Sidious to turn Anakin into Vader in the other timeline. Now, I couldn’t claim to be immune to this same failing, seen when Serra had been in danger on Naboo and when Anakin had been kidnapped, but I was better able to handle the dangers of having relationships with others due to my maturity. Anakin had a long time to learn that control, though while I was teaching him how to do so I wasn’t going to deny him the chance to make friends as we travelled.
“Yeah, but I should’ve won,” I replied to Pamaris, knowing if I stayed quiet any longer he might think I was ignoring him. I wouldn’t classify him as a friend, but he was sociable with me.
“Perhaps,” a new voice said, drawing my attention, revealing that Master Walrion standing nearby, “but victory in your last duel was not required. All you had to do was prove your capability against someone as skilled as yourself. Those you defeated in the earlier rounds were unready for their trials,” around us, several members of his tribe looked away, reminded of their failures in earlier duels, “this last trial was to show you were ready for your final test.”
“That doesn’t sound ominous at all,” I muttered, using a wide smile to make clear I looked forward to the challenge.
“What is life without challenge?” He replied, matching my smile. “Now come. You have time before your final trial, and it would be wise to use that to rest and prepare.”
After giving Pamaris a nod, I followed Walrion. Around us, most of those in the tribe who had come to attempt their Apprentice trials glared up at me. I, however, didn’t care; they had proven themselves unworthy of the position they sought while I had not. All that remained was one final test, but I could feel the Force sliding around me, offering its help to ensure I emerged victorious.
… …
As the green flames surged closer, I dove to one side, their scorching heat grazing past as I rolled into a landing. Pain flared in my left leg—a harsh reminder, tempting me to unleash fury on the fool who dared wound me. But surrendering to that urge would be a surrender of my purpose, my control, and the Force itself.
Instead, I channelled the anger inward, sharpening my focus, and honing my movements to a razor’s edge. Yet, even as I rose to retaliate, my power felt constrained, a fraction of what I could wield if I allowed the Force to surge unchecked. Five months of holding back, lowering myself to match those around me, grated against every instinct. But now, so close to completing my trials, I couldn’t risk shattering my disguise.
The flames gathered at my fingertips, yet before I could release them, the emerald blaze arced again toward my new position. “Enough,” I growled, springing forward to evade the green inferno as best I could. Unlike the previous duels, this one stripped me of my blade, pitting me against a Fire Master. Survival alone was the objective—time was the only measure of success. Yet, the Custodian’s cruelty lay in concealing the duration, forcing each Acolyte to fight as though every second might be the last.
Rushing across the arena, I scanned for anything I could use. This duel wasn’t held within the Hall of the Four but in an open arena, like a colosseum with rows of seats filled with eager spectators, those who had failed their own trials watching hungrily. Every attack I attempted was swallowed by the Fire Master’s flames, his green fire devouring my efforts with effortless contempt. The cheers that rose with each failed attempt only fanned my irritation.
I knew the Fire Master wasn’t aiming to kill, though he wouldn’t hesitate to wound. In truth, if we clashed with full strength, I would crush him; he wielded the Force narrowly, through a singular mastery, while I could command it in ways he couldn’t comprehend. Yet here I was, forced to endure this torment, to bide my time.
Then I saw it—a pillar of stone, no doubt raised by an Earth Shaper in an earlier duel. It was broad enough to shield me from view, at least briefly, and I sprinted toward it. To the spectators, the seconds I spent rolling, rising, and darting to the pillar would seem brief, but to me, with the Force amplifying each sensation, it was an eternity, my mind racing through strategies, discarding each in turn as inadequate.
Just as I reached the pillar, four steps from cover, all thoughts of strategy fled. Around the pillar, another funnel of green flames twisted toward me, the Fire Master’s trap. Fury erupted, raw and consuming, pulsing through my veins as I realized I had no escape.
I couldn’t stop, couldn’t veer from the path, couldn’t reveal my power to evade what was coming. In the agonizing slowness of the moment, I braced myself, arms raised in a futile guard against the oncoming blaze. I closed my eyes, the searing heat enveloping me, burning through layers of will and flesh alike. I knew the cost this might exact; it might end my trials here, rob me of my chance to ascend as an Apprentice Fire Shaper.
But I wouldn’t flinch, wouldn’t turn away. If this was how the duel would end, I would face it head-on, unyielding. Pain blazed through every nerve as the flames devoured me, their heat an all-consuming fury—and then, mercifully, the world faded into darkness.
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As I lay in the bed, my gaze returned once more to my arms. Bar the beskar-covered replacement which showed no hints of damage as far as I could tell, I wore bandages from my shoulders down each arm. Those were the last bandages I had, with those for the rest of my body having healed in the days I’d been lying here.
The Shapers had a substance that accelerated the healing of the skin, and from what I’d seen, I wouldn’t have any marks left on my chest, back, and legs. I could’ve healed the wound quicker, but that would mean drawing upon the Force and desiring it to restore my skin to its natural state. Such an act, while faster and less painful – even with the numbing agent the Shapers added to their medicine and bandages – would’ve ruined my cover, and after enduring the mind-searing pain from the duel with the Fire Master, I’d be a son of a Hutt before I made such an elementary mistake.
When I’d first awoken, and been told of my scars, of which my arms had taken the brunt of the blow, being the only section of me, outside of my head, the Water Shapers – or at least those who had learnt to harness their gifts for healing – had told me I would retain the scars from my trial. At least those on my arms. Those elsewhere would heal fully, and my hair – burnt away by the flames – was already beginning to return. I’d started to enjoy having slightly longer hair, allowing it to reach down past my shoulders, and not feeling it there – instead, having to endure any breeze on my exposed skull – was perhaps more off-putting than the scars hidden by the bandages.
For a few moments I had considered healing the scars that would be left once I left Kro var, but Master Walrion had entered the room not long after and stated why the scars on my arms were important. The scars that lay under the bandages were badges of honour to the Shapers, with every one of them, all the way up to the Grandmasters, having such marks if they learnt to Shape fire.
Other elements could leave scars, but the only element – at least of the base four – that always left such marking was fire. The issue, as I lay in the bed after nearly a week, was that no one had explained why the scars were important. I had a few ideas, but without confirmation, I couldn’t be certain of anything.
That had meant the anger I felt for having to endure the bandage, for being forced to experience the pain of my body being engulfed in flames, only grew stronger. Thankfully, after time training with the Matukai, and the Shapers, and learning some ways to focus such rage from Adas, I had no issues controlling my rage. Shaping and guiding it in the ways I wished was child’s play and while that was a simple matter for any who understood the power that lay in achieving dominance over one’s emotions, it was such a relief to have that. Particularly when I remembered my time with the Bando Gora and fighting the Vong.
The upside, or at least the biggest one, to being stuck in a bed for a week was that it granted me time to think. On both the next few steps while on Kro Var and the ones I needed to take to regain what I’d lost from taking Natural Selection and where Anakin and I would head next.
I couldn’t see us staying on Kro Var for much more than another month. I wanted to see what new techniques I would learn as a Fire Apprentice, but after that, there was little need to stay. I’d seen enough from Fire Masters, and painfully experienced more, to see ways I could harness my training to further my abilities. Perhaps in ways that few Jedi and Sith might ever consider. What also assured me that our time with the Shapers was growing to a close was the way Anakin was slowly becoming agitated. As if he longed to move on and explore more of the galaxy.
I shared the same sensation but was better able to hide it from others, but I could sense the Force shifting as if suggesting we needed to move on. That some unknown problem was slowly forming not far into our future. Because of that, my thoughts turned toward powers I had yet to rediscover.
Phase and Teleport were the two obvious examples of such powers. While I knew I could use them, I had remained reluctant to attempt either. Screwing up with them could easily prove fatal. I’d known I needed to learn how to harness the Force properly before attempting to reapply those powers, and as my time with the Shapers grew to a close, I felt it was almost time to add them back into my arsenal.
They were extremely powerful abilities, but their usage in combat – bar for quick withdrawals – was limited. Or at least they had been before taking Natural Selection. Once I was again comfortable using the powers, I’d have to test if that still held, but my feeling was that they would. Still, they offered me avenues that remained closed to most other Force users, and I’d have to start trusting their use, if not in direct combat, then to move into or out of such situations faster. It had been a regular flaw of mine too, when forced into rash actions, that I’d not used them, and that was a flaw I wished to remove.
I’d given more thought to Adas’ suggestion on the creation of a new crystal for my lightsaber, and while I was reluctant to commit to it, as it was an obvious path down a road I wasn’t comfortable travelling, there was some wisdom in at least attempting the process. Or using it in another way that he might not approve of, but might be more suitable to my needs.
That would come once we were away from Kro Var, but I’d also have to make sure that I didn’t leave Anakin and the others waiting around on me while I attempted what I wanted to try. Fenrir and Simvyl were growing agitated with the boredom of not doing much. They went out hunting and training every other day, but both wished to do something else. Raven wanted to fly, her desire to feel the wind surging over her skin growing with each passing minute. As for the droids, while R2 seemed unaffected by such an extended period with little to do, HK had stated a desire to find some meatbags to test his latest calibrations upon.
The only issue with leaving Kro Var soon was that we’d not get the chance to study with an Air Master. Even if we travelled to another tribe elsewhere on the planet, Master Walrion had made clear none would train me until I had become a Fire Warrior. Even then, most wouldn’t begin teaching a secondary element until I had mastered the first. That was, even if Anakin and I had the potential to shape air, there simply wasn’t the time to commit to the training, so I’d have to learn the ability on my own through trial and error.
I didn’t think I yet had to reinsert myself into events of substance in the galaxy, but I knew that the time I had to prepare myself and Anakin before the first beats of the drums of war sounded was growing to a close. Nearly eighteen months had passed since Palpatine had been elected Chancellor, and another month after that Damask had joined him as Co-Chancellor. By now the pair would have the levers of power aligned to ensure they remained in office for as long as was necessary before a galactic crisis ensured none would want them to step down.
Whoever they had chosen to replace Dooku as Darth Tyrannus – if that name was still used – would soon be ready to begin stirring the pot. Assuming it remained a Jedi Master, then it wouldn’t take much to search the Holonet for mentions of a member of the Order speaking out publicly on the failings of the Republic in the Outer Rim, but to search for that I needed to be away from Kro Var and back in civilization.
The question, once that figure was revealed, was determining if they had the acumen of Dooku to influence others in the ways he had in the formation of the CIS, or if they would travel down a slightly different path. That, however, would only become clear once I knew who the Banite Sith’s puppet was.
Even if I had to wait a few more years to discover the puppet, I could start making moves to prepare. The development of a third faction, one offering another path forward, was perhaps my best choice. That faction would be far smaller than the Republic or CIS, but with the right people, planets, and companies backing it, I felt it held a good chance to royally fuck up the Banite Sith’s plans, perhaps even offering sight of the path through the coming chaos that I and Anakin had to thread.
Something hinted to me that beyond us and Dooku, Maul and Vosa had roles to play in finding and then widening that path, however, I was unsure of what those roles would be, and in the case of Vosa, if I wanted to accept her service.
The obvious non-Force users to focus on were the Mando’ade and Lokella. The latter were small but dedicated toward goals I could support and would induce new forms of chaos into the Banite Sith’s plans. The former, however, had the potential to derail things majorly. There were, potentially, hundreds of millions of Mando’ade spread across the galaxy, and if they could be united under a single banner, under a new Mand'alor, and bring the full strength of their arms and technology to bear, they could be incredibly useful.
However, they alone wouldn’t be enough, but I had a few plans, some downright insane that I could enact that might, if not outright help my cause, then disrupt the Banite Sith’s plans. One such group was the Anzati, or more accurately their assassins.
From the general stories on the Holonet that one read of the Anzati, they sounded like this galaxy’s version of vampires. Feeding on the ‘soup’ or ‘luck’ of others to enhance themselves and live longer was the stuff that gave people nightmares. More so when one considered that they considered those strong in the Force delicacies of the highest order.
When one dug into their culture, however, one saw that while all that was true, only those who lost control of themselves and became little more than feral beasts deserving of nothing but a quick and painful death, attacked and fed on others so indiscriminately. The majority of the species lived for centuries, learnt to control, and rise above their urges, and through those centuries if not millennia of life, trained to become some of the deadliest fighters in the galaxy, with many specialising in assassinations. So much so that HK considered them the apex meatbag species for such missions, which from him was as high praise as he could offer to a sentient.
All that meant that I would be safe to train with an Anzati Master Assassin if they were willing to train a Force user. However, Anakin and the others wouldn’t save perhaps for Simvyl. For the droids, Fenrir, and Raven, it would be another five or six months of sitting around, but I felt the time was something Anakin could use.
I was uncertain how easily I could slip away from my training to oversee Anakin’s; however, he had his project waiting for him. He’d not been able to focus on it while we were on Kro Var, but nearly half a year of training by himself aboard Raven would grant him the time to create his droid; something that might help keep HK and R2 occupied as well, at least to some degree.
The door to my room sliding open drew me from my thoughts, and a moment later Master Walrion stepped in. “Good Morning. How goes your recovery?”
“The pain’s gone, and I can finally feel my fingers,” I said, flexing them for emphasis, savouring the relief.
He smiled at the sight. “Good. The healers expected you’d be ready for the final bandages to come off today. Then we can begin the last stage of your trial.”
I frowned, puzzled. The battle with the Fire Master was supposed to be the final test. “I’ve finished the duels,” I said, watching as he stepped further into the room, a hint of amusement on his face.
“Yes, the duels are done,” he said, his smile widening, “but you’ve yet to be confirmed as an Apprentice of Fire. You still need the markings that signify you as one of us.”
“How are the tattoos applied?”
“The process is simple.” He raised his arms, revealing the intricate flames etched from his hands to his shoulders. “Look closely, at the places where the flames seem to meet and intertwine.”
I leaned in, examining the stylized flames that danced up his skin. They crept under his clothing, but I knew they extended across his chest. The markings were striking, giving the impression that his arms were alight, an effect that became even more mesmerising when he summoned flames to dance across the tattoos. The ink seemed to come alive, each line of fire blending seamlessly with the real flames, a merging of flesh and fire that was both a mark of power and a promise of what lay ahead.
“Do you remember how in your first lesson; I spoke of what my tattoos represented?”
It took only the slightest bit of effort to have the memory come to the forefront of my thoughts and in crystal clear detail. “That they mark your mastery over the flames, and display to others you have proven your status as a Master of Fire.”
Walrion nodded and lowered his arms. “Indeed, and you have now passed your Apprentice trial, it is time for you to gain your first markings.” That held some appeal, as I had no issue with tattoos, at least not when they weren’t as all-consuming as Walrion’s. “Each Shapers’ markings are different,” he continued, moving closer to the bed, “the marks shaped by events of their trials. The scars your arms bear will form the base of your markings, and the more dangerous the trial, the greater the scars one can experience.” I nodded, seeing the logic in that.
“What about the other elements?”
“Those are not as prone to scarring the body as fire, but where they do they are used in the markings. For example, Master Ranalis’ markings to show his mastery over earth are based on scars. At least the ones showing his status as Master. Earlier trials rarely leave the same lasting impression as the cleansing flames do.”
“In that case, I’m honoured to accept my markings,” I said with a smile. A tattoo should always have meaning, signifying something the person did or earned, and not just a mark because they liked a picture. The idea of healing the scars was gone now, replaced by the understanding they carried respect and honour with the Shapers.
“Good. The Custodian and the other Masters were concerned you might reject markings based on personal belief.”
I chuckled. “You remember the markings on my armour?” He nodded, remembering when I’d brought part of the armour to show the sigils I bore for both my clan and myself. I’d done so as Anakin had detailed the story of my verd’goten to his friends, and it had spread through the tribe to the point I had to prove them with a recording of the hunt. While many disliked the use of technology to show that, almost all were impressed that I downed the greater krayt dragon with nothing more than a knife. “Then I’m uncertain why you would think I would reject marks of honour and courage.”
Walrion grinned. “I knew of this, but the others did not. They needed me to confirm that you were agreeable.” He turned and moved toward the door. “I will have the healers visit you soon to remove the bandages. Then this evening, your markings will be created so that you can display them with honour on your travels.”
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I watched carefully as I ignited the fuel at the centre of the furnace. Having taken days to gather the ferrocrete needed for it, craft that into shape, and then build the forge, the last thing I wanted was for it to fail as I started the fire at its core.
Quickly, the heat rose, stifling the surrounding environment. The Force protected me from the worst of it, yet I could see the air around us simmer from the intense temperature emanating from within the forge. The flames inside roared; twisting around seeking freedom to destroy everything around me, but I knew I couldn’t allow that. I had to take control of the flames, control the heat they generated, and focus toward helping me achieve my goal.
Adas had been clear that to forge a crystal in such an intensive way, the Force user had to be the dominant party; they had to ensure for however long the process took that the fire obeyed them in every way they demanded. For the Sith, that meant building a crystal from scratch, applying each layer of lattice one at a time, painstakingly using their fury to endure the time and effort needed to do that, and ignoring the pain brought forth by the intense heat of the furnace as they knelt before it. I was uncertain if I could do that, and with the cracked crystal available to me, I hoped I wouldn’t have to.
Once the flames were hot enough, I opened one palm, and using the Force lifted my cracked lightsaber crystal into the furnace. Attempting to repair the crystal using the method the Sith used to create their crystals was a longshot, but since there was no other way to recover the crystal for its primary purpose, I figured it was worth a shot.
On the journey to this remote planet – one in a system known simply by galactic coordinates rather than a name – I’d spent hours using the Force to examine the two micro crystals down to their atomic structure. Or at least as best as I could. The Force had resisted helping me, almost as if it knew what I intended and wanted to stop me, but it had bent to my will and assisted my work; just as it was going to do now.
Even as the crystal floated to the centre of the furnace, I could feel it buckling under the heat. The crack within it widened as the heat affected the lattices within as the flames probed for more weaknesses to exploit. If I was simply trying to repair the crystal, then that would be an issue, but I understood that I couldn’t do that. No, what I was attempting was to break the crystal down and rebuild it into something usable.
Focusing my emotions into a fine edge, using it to slice through the Force as it tried to prevent me from accessing the elements that went into the creation of the crystal, I got to work.
In the depths of his holocron, I knew Adas expected this to fail, for it to become nothing but a waste of my time. However, I felt I had to try. This crystal was one I worked to acquire, defeating the worst possible versions of myself in the process, and then discussing the future for a brief moment with Revan.
My mind knew what I had to do, and the Force would bend to my desires helping me achieve that. This was going to take hours, if not days, but I felt the effort was worth the risk.
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I slumped back, the exhaustion of what I’d done finally catching up with me as I felt my work was finished. However, before I could saviour rebuilding my crystal, I felt a shift in the Force and a flare of Danger Sense. Understanding what was about to happen, and as the ferrocrete of the furnace began to glow ominously, I reached out and engulfed the furnace in a Force bubble.
The furnace exploded spectacularly, and I had to shield my eyes. The bubble I’d created held, and I felt it strain against the pressure that slammed into it. However, I wasn’t letting the bubble fail. If I did, I was dead. The Force bent to my desires, strengthening the bubble, ensuring it withstood the onslaught inside.
Opening my eyes, I saw the flames moving slowly around the inside of the bubble, desperately seeking a weakness it could exploit; a gap to escape and unleash its fearsome fury. The hand that had shielded my eyes from the initial explosion came up, helping me focus on strengthening the bubble. The flames inside moved around slowly, allowing me to see individual spikes of flame fight with the bubble and other spikes, seeking to assert their dominance over each other.
The heat and intensity from the flames were easy to feel outside the bubble, far surpassing anything I’d seen any Shaper generate and control. That, however, didn’t mean I couldn’t control them. Closing my eyes, I focused on the flames, attempting to assert my will over them. Before Kro Var, this would never have worked, but with my training with them to draw upon, and the full breadth of the Force at my command, I wouldn’t be losing this battle. The fury of the ferocious flames would bend to my desires.
The flames pushed back, somehow understanding that an outside force was threatening them. Their intensity grew stronger, challenging my position, but I wasn’t going to lose this battle. Reaching inward, I found the source of my emotions, those filtered and focused into a razor’s edge and drew on that. Every cell in my body was fuelled by my emotions, pushing the Force to strengthen me further and bend the fury contained in the bubble to my demands.
I watched, a small, delighted smirk creeping onto my face as the flames, dancing to their nature, slowly started slipping in intensity. The air inside the bubble slowly was dying out as it was fed upon by what had destroyed the furnace. Knowing this was the moment to begin to end this struggle, I reached out, grasping control of the flames while at the same time shrinking the bubble.
The flames, those that bent easily to my demands, turned on their compatriots, feasting on them even as the space available to the fire shrunk. Those flames not under my control slammed into those that were and the bubble, raging against what was happening, but I didn’t care. I knew this battle was over. All that remained was to snuff out the remaining strands that refused to obey me.
This kept up until the only flames left within the bubble were subservient to me. Wanting to end this farce and see what state my crystal was in; at the same moment, I had the flames shoot upwards and opened the top of the bubble. The fire easily accepted my wishes and raced skyward. They rose like a rocket, and then on my command, once high enough to not be a threat to anyone, I flicked open my hand.
The flames exploded outward, resembling a firework with such intensity that if this was a habited planet, I suspected those in orbit might well have seen the momentary flash before the flames died.
With that done, I slumped back on my legs. To anyone watching, everything that had happened had taken place in merely a few seconds. With the Force enhancing me, time had passed much slower for me, and it felt as if I’d just run a marathon. Yet even in my exhaustion, I felt a surge of delight. I had dominated the flames and proved my dominance over them. now all that remained was to…
“Fuck!” the word slipped from me as I saw that, where the furnace had been, all that remained was ash. The ferrocrete not consumed by the flames slipped away as a gentle breeze past over us. “FUCK!” I screamed, my voice blasting away the remaining dust as I understood that, at some point, while I’d been fighting the flames, the crystal I’d worked for Force-knew how long to rebuild was gone. Reduced to ash along with the furnace.
The ground around me cracked, the dust scattered with the shockwave that emanated from me as the rage I’d drawn on to control the flames was if only for the slightest moment, unleashed fully. Plants were ripped from the ground, the topsoil and their roots shredded by my rage, while trees metres from me bent and cracked as my fury slammed into them.
As the blast of fury eased, I looked at the spot where the furnace and crystal had been. The ground around it hadn’t endured my fury, clearing a ditch around that spot and me. Yet where the furnace had stood, the ground had turned to glass, which had then shattered when I’d lost my control for a fraction of a second. As I regained control of my fury, I sensed Anakin’s panic. Behind that, similar feelings of worry came from Raven and Fenrir, the former also expressing a primal desire to fight those who had angered me.
Once the rage was reforged into a cold, hard blade, I pushed it back down inside myself and then reached out to the trio. I let them know, with feelings pushed through the Force, that I was fine and not to worry. Raven and Fenrir accepted that easily, though there was doubt coming from Anakin. Another wave of reassurance, mixed with disappointment and determination settled his doubt and I brought my thoughts back to my location.
Rebuilding the crystal had failed, much as Adas would've expected it to. However, as I reviewed what had happened, and what had caused the furnace to explode, I understood my flaw. Or at least the one I felt had caused the destruction of my old crystal. The mistake hadn't perhaps been in attempting to reforge the crystal but in the construction of the furnace. Reviewing the memories of its explosion, I could see where the flames had first weakened and then engulfed the ferrocrete. I saw the flaw in the design. One so slight it had slipped my attention in the furnace's construction.
A small growl of annoyance slipped from me as I understood that, because of the failure of the furnace, the chance to reforge my old crystal was gone. Now I would be forced to do as Adas had suggested; to create a focusing crystal purely from my control and domination over the Force. It angered me to have failed, to have lost a small connection to my past, but the notion that I now had to follow Adas' instructions - to accept that his way was the only way - infuriated me to my very core.
I shifted around, wanting to stand for the first time in Force-knew how long. The muscles in my legs protested, straining against what felt like days of inactivity, yet within a short while I was standing. Carefully turning and stretching – I might not experience cramps as most sentients did, but I could feel pain in my body from being stationary for so long – I worked out any potential kinks in my muscles and sinews. Once I was recovered, I would begin anew. I needed a new crystal and knew this was the time for me to forge one, and thus, while I raged at Adas being right, at my failure, I would push forward. Not because Adas said this was the path to take, but because as the Force swirled around me, I knew this was what I had to do.
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