Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

This would be a fucking stupid way to die.

Aestra steadied herself against the frame of the decrepit elevator as it shuddered and jolted before continuing to grind its slow descent into the planet. This rust bucket was in an even worse condition than the one that took them from the main colony to the surface. She surveyed the pitted metal of the cage and considered whether the state of the cable holding it up was any better. If the cable broke, how far would she fall? Nobody seemed to know how far into the world the Facility went. She imagined falling all the way into the planet's core, being cooked alive long before she hit the molten rock at the bottom, dying in flames.

Death in itself was fine. Death by malfunctioning rust box would be a waste. If she had to die so young and so fucking hot it had better be a glorious death, a lightsaber in her hand, a sneer on her lips, surrounded by a shit ton of cowardly Jedi, their usual smug, righteous smiles slapped off their faces by the sight of a pile of dead asshole comrades lying at the feet of Aestra, Jedi Slayer extraordinaire. "If we all attack at once, we can take her," their leader, probably some conventionally handsome human born into a life of privilege, would say, but his fluttering lightsaber blade would betray a trembling hand. "Maybe, maybe not, but you'll certainly die first," she'd smirk, watching the sweat bead on his smooth brow.

Going out like that - like a true Sith - would be A-Ok. Just peach-.

A sudden lurch shook Aestra out of pleasant fantasy as the elevator passed by a long-abandoned level, glimpsed in shadows. Worn out and centuries old like everything else in this dark (mostly), cold (always), bottomless (as far as she knew) shit hole. Maybe the engineers and sci-guys should spend more time on making sure the Facility was maintained well enough to not kill them, instead of their ridiculous Force enhancer and cloning experiments. Fat chance. The remnants of the Sith Eternal, the entire creepy lot of them, were borderline insane, so twisted by their desire for revenge and traumatized by the events of Exegol that they rarely left the lower levels to visit the colony, only venturing from their labs when they needed to experiment or test a new device on some unfortunate acolyte.

The elevator slowed its descent-slash-controlled fall and Aestra glanced at the time and cursed. Why was she here? It was a terrible idea. If she was late for saber class, Xate would inflict some painful, humiliating punishment that would put her further behind Tor.

And Darth Inferna would only accept one. It had to be her.

But she'd been woken by a pull at her heart that felt familiar, a disquieting whisper carried on the winds of the Force. It wanted to hear her, so she had to do this properly, at the holiest place she had access to in lieu of the Sith Temple. The Temple's sprawling underground labyrinth was accessible only from a couple of places in the lower levels, and those were sealed off, the Eternal and Council keeping its secrets all to themselves. Still, sometimes, lying awake in the dark of another frigid night, she could sense it below her, feel its brooding power like a stain on the Force.

The deceleration continued, and the metal cage screeched, squealed and shuddered to a slightly lopsided but unexpectedly smooth stop. Final destination? Or had it simply given up? Peering through the rusted mesh doors into shadows, Aestra could make out the walls of a corridor heading off into the darkness. She was here.

She cranked open the doors and stepped up onto a tiled floor. Her presence detected, most of the ceiling lights sputtered into life, throwing uneven pools of light onto a long, straight stretch of cracked flooring and paint-peeling walls that lead to a nondescript double door, and somewhere beyond that, the shrine.

Aestra's boot heels clicked out a severe, staccato rhythm that echoed around the corridor as she strode towards her goal, cape flowing in shimmering black waves behind her. Bit of a retro, Vader-esque touch that might not be the latest thing in Darksider fashions, but Lady Arriet - "The Jedi Whisperer" - looked super cool in one in that holo series they'd watched surreptitiously last year, so fuck it. Everyone loved Lady Arriet; the biggest bitch in the Corporate Regions, which was saying something.

Sweat prickled her skin unexpectedly. The skintight black nano-cling that wrapped her from neck to foot was adjusted for the colony's usual permachill, but this far below the surface the atmosphere had changed to a stuffy warmth.

She must be hundreds of meters below the habitat levels now. After eight years in the colony, this was only the second time she'd visited. Why keep their holiest artifacts so far away? It wasn't as if there weren't enough free spaces to use higher up in the vast and virtually empty Facility. Perhaps to keep them near the Temple, in case they were required for a ceremony; there had been a handful of those in each of the eight years since the colony was established, providing a welcome break from the grind of training, supply runs and the business of hiding/surviving in an inhospitable rock on the edge of the Wild Regions.

Aestra arrived at the door, took out a key and unlocked it, the mechanism thankfully not rusted tight.

It would only take a minute to get this done. Then back up to classes, elevator willing.

Chapter Text

Trin balanced on the low wall and breathed in the crisp morning air, savoring the feeling as it chilled her body and enlivened her mind, freeing her from the last of her early morning torpor.

The rays of the sun spilled over the tips of distant peaks to paint the valley below in the greens and golds she adored. She'd not explored the forests for weeks, she realized with a twinge of regret. The studies and duties imposed by Tython Academy on its padawan had increased in recent months, pinning her to her room and leaving no time for the things she loved. That would need to be put right, soon.

A breeze ruffled her light tunic and long blonde hair, a wintry touch finding her cheeks and exposed ankles. Was it that time of year already? She loved autumn, the forest transformed, bathed in amber-

Back to the task girl! There was no time for this. But she loved Tython, loved the beauty in its stillness, its balance and peace, loved how it made her feel so very far from the cityscapes of Atrisia and Coruscant. Could she really leave all this behind?

She needed to get moving; if she went for it, it was still possible to get to the Shrine and back in time for the start of combat session. Time to reap the benefit of all those hours in fitclass.

Trin dropped to the path and resumed her climb through Orrea's twisting, narrow alleys, towards the Jedi Temple that dominated the town from the summit of the peak, a looming presence visible from almost everywhere. She passed the spot where Ella would set up her coffee stall later. Fabulous coffee and a wonderful view down the valley, so maybe on the way back down, all being well, she might have time-

Later! Onward! After a couple more turns, the market beckoned to her left, its colorful awnings shading the wider, stepped street that climbed straight through the center of town, a more direct route than the winding paths to the right. And it would be empty at this time of day, the merchants yet to set up shop. A shortcut; good thinking. She jogged into its wider, welcoming space.

-

"Sorry!" Trin half-turned to call behind, skipping around a stack of blumfruit boxes. Really, she supposed she should stop to help catch those Endorian chickens, since she'd inadvertently played a small part in their escape by gently clipping the crate that had imprisoned them. It had been very precariously and thoughtlessly positioned though, so she was only partly to blame, never mind what their owner had shouted after her. He looked pretty lively, so he'd catch them in no time. Probably. Why were there so many people here, so early in the morning? She'd always assumed the town to be quiet and sleepy at this time of day, but that appeared not to be the case.

Trin shimmied around a woman in Arean tribal dress, swearing and struggling to control a young Nerf and emerged from the covered boulevard. Before her was the grand courtyard and on the opposite side, the entrance to the Temple. Despite a lot of fuss and small amount of nerf crap on her shoes, that had still been shorter than the winding alleys, so she could still make it to class in time.

And if she didn't? Another black mark from Master Fahn. Another sigh, shake of the head and another disapproving comment about abundant ability and sad lack of commitment. But they wouldn't expel her - she was talented and the Academy wasn't in a position to be picky.

And if they did throw her out, would that be so bad? Freed from a path she was increasingly unsure of, a life of service and sacrifice. She couldn't think that way. If she was to quit it should be her own choice, a decision made by, not for, her. The consequences would be hers to own, good and bad. Trin imagined her parents' faces strained by disappointment and confusion, and her brother's I-told-you-so smirk.

She slowed to a trot upon entering the Temple. The place was still to be respected, though these days the contemplation and practice of The Force had been replaced by the pursuit of order and efficiency as the main activity within these walls. The only talk of balance now was regarding ledger sheets and cash flow reports. What had once been grand halls of worship, council and training had been repurposed into workspaces and meeting rooms for an administrative branch of The Third Republic.

Trin walked as brisky and unobtrusively as possible across polished stone floors, through towering arches, past ornately carved statues celebrating masters that had once paced these same passages, millennia ago. Now they were occupied only by stray earlybirds, ambling to their workspace, tab and cup of hot, stimulating liquid in hand. It seemed wrong to have admin here, surrounded by the rich history of the Jedi order, while Trin and the other padawan trained in a newly constructed compound down near the Arc, but she supposed it would be a waste if the Temple weren't used, and there were no more Jedi, after all. Not yet, anyway.

She passed the hall of the archives, Tython's real treasure, sealed away behind towering glass doors through which Trin could see the room was empty, inhabited solely by whatever hapless ghosts haunted the artifacts within. As a padawan, she had access, but only used it if necessary, which wasn't often; best leave pouring over dusty texts and millennia old artifacts to the scholars and historians working on prophecies of the 'New Glory' era she kept hearing so much about. Peace and good times for all, if only they could exterminate - sorry, "extinguish" - the Dark Side completely.

And finally, at the rear of the halls, a discreet staircase leading to the highest point in the temple; the Shrine of Anavus. Please let it be empty. Just a moment of peace.

The Shrine of Anavus wasn't the grandest in the Temple, but its aspect was unique and this was why she sought it out. Trin stepped up onto a square roof that was barely ten paces across, open to the elements on all sides, occupied by a few stone pillars holding up a simple roof and an altar bearing relics from the Second Great Schism, the period during which the followers of the Force had split into Jedi and Sith. She wasn't sure of the purpose or significance of these artifacts, but it didn't matter; the location was the thing. From up here at the highest point in Orrea, the view of the valley was unrivaled, inspiring, and she couldn't help but pause a moment to take it in as the wind whipped around her, nipping at exposed skin. The vista filled her with thoughts of a wider world beckoning, full of wonders and promising so much more than a lifetime of order and discipline.

Was she becoming attached to Tython or just more able to appreciate its beauty? And if she was becoming attached, was that bad? Was there any such thing as a safe attachment, one that couldn't be turned by the Dark Side into a weapon to be used against you? Trin turned to the altar, imagined the Jedi that had prayed here across the centuries in all their diverse species and characters, and wondered if any of them had harbored similar questions and doubts.

Chapter Text

The last door was stuck, so Aestra booted it open. The facility had mechanisms to absorb changes in pressure from the rock outside, but this far below the surface there were occasional shifts in the planet's crust that exceeded operational limits, and things shifted a little. The door grudgingly moved aside to reveal a large storeroom, lined with dusty shelves on which rested various artifacts recovered and pillaged from what remained of Sith temples, colonies and planets of significance scattered the width and breadth of the galaxy. She imagined the strength and suffering infused into them over ages past, absorbed into their physical essence to be released slowly, seeping into their surroundings. She breathed it in and felt inspired, then saddened, as she considered the ignominy of their current resting place and the ruined grandeur of the once mighty empires that had spawned them. If only she had been born into a time when she could have seen the Sith in ascendancy instead of hiding in holes in the ground. Seen it with her own eyes and felt the power of exalted beings like Tenebrae, Ragnos or Nihilus, instead of just hearing the stories or watching holos.

On a low shelf against the opposite wall lay what she remembered as the most holy of the artifacts possessed by the colony: a black metal hemisphere about two hand lengths across called The Xube of something or other. It was about 7000 years old, which was quite impressive, so it would do. Aestra knelt before it. Now she was really close up, she could see its surface wasn't a perfect black; on it swirled a very faint multi-hued pattern, like oil on the surface of water, continually flowing and shifting. And it didn't quite sit on the shelf but hovered very slightly, just a hair, above it. Huh. Those ancient Sith knew the Force. Bet that Temple was worth seeing. So much had been forgotten in the intervening millennia.

Aestra moved into a more comfortable position, stilled herself, closed her eyes, breathed the warm, musty air, and focused. The air she breathed flowed around the room, touching the artifacts, the walls and floors cut into the crust of the planet that contained the core and all its power below her, the facility above her and all the followers of the Dark that walked its corridors. The surface, its atmosphere and beyond that the other worlds in this system and their sun, and all the stars in the galaxy. And in them all, connecting her to each and every thing in this world and all others: the Force, binding her to them, filling her, giving her strength.

---

Trin knelt before the altar, in the center of which was a bright metallic hemisphere, poised in the air above the simple wooden platform.

She took ten deep breaths, closed her eyes and stilled herself as she had been taught, opening up to the force, sensing it within her, filling the space between her and the mountains, a bond between her and every rock, tree, stream and creature that inhabited the world, weaving a magnificent tapestry that wrapped her up in a beauty she wanted to drink in until she overflowed.

She reached out to touch the hemisphere. It vibrated beneath her fingertip, ever so slightly as she spoke her plea.

"Force, all knowing, please grant me the wisdom to choose the right path, whatever that may be. And the courage to walk that path." She took a breath before the words rushed out of her. "Because I feel like I don't know what I'm doing, and it's hard, it's really hard, and I'm scared I'm going to screw this up. So please help me do the right thing. That's it. Thanks for hearing me."

---

On impulse, Aestra rested a fingertip on the Xube.

"Force hear me. Give me the strength to stay on the true path, ascend to Sith, get out of this shit hole and kill Jedi. Make them pay for what they did. Make the galaxy right." She considered a moment. "And let me see what's behind that door. Maybe that's too much to ask, but I really am devoting my life to you, and don't ask, don't get, so..." She shrugged.

—-

Trin lingered a moment in the connection, eyes closed and-

-she was in semi darkness. Warm. A long black clad arm reaching out in front of her to touch a black object.

Trin gasped, eyes snapped open wide to see the Shrine of Anavus again, and its altar bathed in morning sun. What just happened?

—-

Aestra felt a hint of a breath behind her, a whisper of surprise so close as to be almost in her head. She glanced around quickly but she was still alone, the only sound the subtle hum of the geomachines far below. She must have imagined it.

She turned back to the Xube, to stay in the moment a little longer.

Light. Sudden, dazzling. A biting chill. Open air and a rock face. In front of her, a wooden platform with a half familiar object upon it-

-back in the storeroom and its dim mustiness.

"The fuck?" Aestra sprung to her feet, tense, heart pounding.

What was that? What had she seen? Was it because she'd touched that thing? She turned and headed for the door, driven by a sudden impulse to put as much distance between herself and this place as possible, to leave it buried deep and dormant in the planet.

The image couldn't be shaken from her mind's eye as she strode towards the elevator, burnt in by its intensity; it wasn't simply an image, it was as if she had actually been in that bright, cold place. She had felt the cold and the wind on her skin. She pushed it aside to turn her focus to the day ahead. Just some glitch in the Force caused by that Xube. Lesson learned: she wouldn't touch that thing again.

Objective accomplished; she had called on the Force for strength. Now the day's work began. Time to kick ass.

Chapter Text

Trin descended to the ground floor of the temple and emerged back onto the streets of Orrea in a daze, attempting to hold the image in her mind, to recall more details until she was unsure of what she had actually seen and what she had invented or extrapolated since. The object she had seen was similar to the one that had been on the altar in the Shrine. The hand; whose was it? Whoever the owner was, she had seen through their eyes. They had been connected somehow. Through the Force? Why? What did this mean? Were they nearby in Orrea? Giddying possibilities swam through her mind.

Thoughts of mystical conundrums were overpowered by the sights and smells of the market. The Noryath meatbreads were back and judging by the odor wafting over from Reya's stall, tasting better than ever. Jerik's choice today though, so she'd be lunching on Old Faye's curry.

Trin was still negotiating a path through stalls - have to watch for that chicken seller - when the chimes of the Greater Arc bell reverberated down the valley, a low boom marking the eighth hour. She was going to be late.

Orrea town sprawled up one side of Mount Ertis and was divided into two separate environments: on Arc and on Mountain. The Arc was a semi-circular band, about two hundred meters in diameter that projected from the side of the mountain, suspended above the valley floor. Surveys had confirmed that it was a complete circle, one half embedded in the rock, one half in the open air, constructed millennia ago from something resembling ferrocrete, probably by the Je'daii. The band was wide enough to accommodate moderately sized buildings and the paths to join them, and the structure had been judged to be strong enough to build upon, so as the town had expanded and become more prosperous, this most unusual and desirable real estate had been put to use. The original On Arc constructions had served as adjuncts to the Temple, for meditation, ceremonies and a belltower, but these days most had been converted to private houses for the region's most wealthy individuals, providing an uninterrupted view of the valley, removed from the bustle of the town.

Everyone else lived and worked on the side of Mount Ertis. Trin raced down a steep, stepped path towards the Academy; a set of squat, domed buildings at the fringes of the town, near one of the points where the Arc met the mountainside and disappeared into the rock.

Ascending the last of the steps to the entrance, her stomach sank; the central hall was empty and silent, her footsteps echoing around the white walls and vaulted ceiling that mimicked the classical style of the Temple. That meant that the rest of the students were in class already. Hurry! Teela was going to give her hell over this; she'd taken it upon herself to tame Trin's wayward temperament, which was no easy task. Bag thrown into her nook fast, then through the arch at the back of the hall that led to the classrooms. This morning was devoted to combat training, so she marched quickly down the corridor towards the largest and most distant hall.

---

The acolytes skulked by the entrance of the loading bay, a critical mass of scowls and sneers that might at any moment trigger a runaway chain reaction of hostility. Clothed in an enormous variety of shades and textures of black, a gallery of bitter, haunted looks lurking under hoods or trapped in scalding stares, holding their stories of suffering close to hearts as black and hard and hot as coal in flames. Their hate sulked in silence behind a spiky antagonism that threatened to impale any servitor foolish enough to pass by. None did.

How best to make an entrance? Aestra opted for a casual sashay towards the bunch of losers, strutting a languid swish of the hips before unclasping her cape to toss it with a theatrical flourish onto an unidentifiable rusting hulk of machinery. She stood hand on hip, chin raised, back arched a little; a pose she'd seen in some old static about one of the naughtier Nightsisters and liked how it looked.

Arun, a big Dathomirian, targeted her with a burning, yellow eyed gaze. "You think you're so fucking marvellous," he spat, lip curled.

"I am fucking marvellous," Aestra confirmed for the record.

"I despise you. We all do," he scoffed with an extra helping of loathing.

She scanned the group until she met light grey eyes too gentle for the severe, angular face they were trapped in, a few locks of silver hair spilling across them. Rem's tall, rangy form lounged casually against a wall, wearing his usual roughed up sweater loose over thermals, regarding her with a suppressed half smile.

She tilted her head: True?

He raised an eyebrow and confirmed with a shrug: Such is the Way of the Sith.

Aestra checked the crowd of glowering faces that regarded her with looks of undisguised, simmering contempt. Confirmed then: she was still one of the more popular students.

She turned back to Arun. "You'd be crazy not to," she assured him and took a step closer, her eyes level with his. "But Arun, I understand you. It's ok," she soothed.

"You can't resist the hotness," Aestra breathed, lifting her chin a little higher, exaggerating the arch of her back a little more, "So you desire me."

She moved closer still, "Then you hate me for making you feel that way."

She watched him swallow hard, and - fuck, what an easy target he was - his eyes flicked over her body. Dathomirians were their own worst enemies. She could almost feel sorry for him. Almost, but he deserved a little extra humiliation, and if they were sparring anytime soon, it would be nice to have a psychological edge over him.

"And you hate yourself for wanting it. When you meditate on your hate-center, I bet you see my face. What a poor excuse for Sith you are," she sneered.

A couple of sniggers from the gallery, and Arun took a step back, glancing to his side.

"Better than you," he hissed, "You'll never ascend. Never. And you want it so much. I'm going to laugh so hard when Inferna picks Tor."

Fucking Tor. As if she needed reminding.

He was watching of course, from a far corner, looming over the other students, his red-rimmed eyes blazing at her from a pale, scarred, hairless head, the lower part of which was covered by a bulky metal respirator. Each rasping breath caused the control panel perched on top of bulging, black wrapped pecs to rise and fall in time with the creak and clink of the armor plating strapped to his enhanced musculature. From the tip of his ugly bald head to the toe of his spotless black boots and all the shiny black bits in between, he was a walking cliche. A medley of Sith Hall of Famers, the Dark Side's greatest hits. But damn, he knew the Force and his saber technique was flawless. He played the game perfectly, looking and acting as if he'd already ascended to Sith and it was a mere formality that Darth Inferna would select him as their apprentice.

But she had to ascend. Had to. Or all those years scrabbling in the dirt and the shit, the debris of the shattered dream of Exegol, all the bitter, angry tears swallowed up by the dust and chaos of the struggle to survive, would have been for nothing.

She needed a reason for all those wide eyed nights spent wrestling the gnawing, writhing fear that filled her empty belly; that they would be next, that the heroic fucking Lightsiders, who never, ever stopped hunting them would appear, gleaming too bright to look at, and they would kill her right there where she lay on filthy cold stone, just a skinny beaten girl, too tired to run, too scared to fight and so very alone.

A reason for all those mornings where fleeting, blissful moments still wrapped up in scraps of sleep, warmed by a memory of a whisper with a gentle touch, curdled into a sickening dread of the day ahead, and she had to push those fantasies down, hold them under and drown them in the depths, lest they drag her with them to suffocate in an ocean of tears.

There had to be a reason why the Force had found her, stoked the dying embers that filled her skin where there had once been a girl, fed the fury until it pulsed hot through her veins, giving her the strength to rise, again and again, to endure, to bring her to this moment. Ascending, learning at Inferna's side, gaining the strength to one day surpass them, the kind of strength that could kill Jedi, take the fight to the Republic and bring about the Age of Shadow. That was the only path that made sense of it all, the only reason. Otherwise, why? The Force had decided, and here she was, ready to serve and make the galaxy right once more. She would find a way to beat Tor and ascend, somehow.

Before the morning's convivial banter with Arun could continue, the acolytes' attention was drawn to the scraping groan of massive metal doors being dragged open. They parted to reveal a black robed, silver skinned Zabrak, hands clasped behind his back, regarding the students with a piercing red eyed stare and a sly smile. Master Xate. The horns atop his head radiated inked designs that resembled sharp, angled branches and told a story of a distinguished lineage gone astray.

"Let us begin," he announced and stood aside, motioning for them to enter the hall. In the facility's previous life, centuries ago, It had been a loading bay. Now it was a wide open space, perfect for combat training, open on one side to one of the vast Terracrafting chasms that dove deep into the planet, its gloom pierced by shafts of grimy grey light from the surface a short distance above.

Massive, discarded machinery of unknown origins and purpose lined the training area. Inside stood Master Dziet, a tall Arkanian, her white hair cut down to a silver stubble that complemented deathly pale skin to contrast starkly with the filmy black robes that flowed around her slender form. The pupil-less silver orbs of her eyes watched them (Aestra assumed - it could be hard to tell, and occasionally embarrassing) take their places uneasily. She usually took theoretical and meditation classes while Xate taught combat, but here she was, looking even more pensive and tense than usual.

Aestra glanced again at Master Xate's smile; an uncommon and unnerving sight. What tortures did he have planned this fine morning?

Chapter Text

Trin descended to the ground floor of the temple and emerged back onto the streets of Orrea in a daze, attempting to hold the image in her mind, to recall more details until she was unsure of what she had actually seen and what she had invented or extrapolated since. The object she had seen was similar to the one that had been on the altar in the Shrine. The hand; whose was it? Whoever the owner was, she had seen through their eyes. They had been connected somehow. Through the Force? Why? What did this mean? Were they nearby in Orrea? Giddying possibilities swam through her mind.

Thoughts of mystical conundrums were overpowered by the sights and smells of the market. The Noryath meatbreads were back and judging by the odor wafting over from Reya's stall, tasting better than ever. Jerik's choice today though, so she'd be lunching on Old Faye's curry.

Trin was still negotiating a path through stalls - have to watch for that chicken seller - when the chimes of the Greater Arc bell reverberated down the valley, a low boom marking the eighth hour. She was going to be late.

Orrea town sprawled up one side of Mount Ertis and was divided into two separate environments: on Arc and on Mountain. The Arc was a semi-circular band, about two hundred meters in diameter that projected from the side of the mountain, suspended above the valley floor. Surveys had confirmed that it was a complete circle, one half embedded in the rock, one half in the open air, constructed millennia ago from something resembling ferrocrete, probably by the Je'daii. The band was wide enough to accommodate moderately sized buildings and the paths to join them, and the structure had been judged to be strong enough to build upon, so as the town had expanded and become more prosperous, this most unusual and desirable real estate had been put to use. The original On Arc constructions had served as adjuncts to the Temple, for meditation, ceremonies and a belltower, but these days most had been converted to private houses for the region's most wealthy individuals, providing an uninterrupted view of the valley, removed from the bustle of the town.

Everyone else lived and worked on the side of Mount Ertis. Trin raced down a steep, stepped path towards the Academy; a set of squat, domed buildings at the fringes of the town, near one of the points where the Arc met the mountainside and disappeared into the rock.

Ascending the last of the steps to the entrance, her stomach sank; the central hall was empty and silent, her footsteps echoing around the white walls and vaulted ceiling that mimicked the classical style of the Temple. That meant that the rest of the students were in class already. Hurry! Teela was going to give her hell over this; she'd taken it upon herself to tame Trin's wayward temperament, which was no easy task. Bag thrown into her nook fast, then through the arch at the back of the hall that led to the classrooms. This morning was devoted to combat training, so she marched quickly down the corridor towards the largest and most distant hall.

---

The acolytes skulked by the entrance of the loading bay, a critical mass of scowls and sneers that might at any moment trigger a runaway chain reaction of hostility. Clothed in an enormous variety of shades and textures of black, a gallery of bitter, haunted looks lurking under hoods or trapped in scalding stares, holding their stories of suffering close to hearts as black and hard and hot as coal in flames. Their hate sulked in silence behind a spiky antagonism that threatened to impale any servitor foolish enough to pass by. None did.

How best to make an entrance? Aestra opted for a casual sashay towards the bunch of losers, strutting a languid swish of the hips before unclasping her cape to toss it with a theatrical flourish onto an unidentifiable rusting hulk of machinery. She stood hand on hip, chin raised, back arched a little; a pose she'd seen in some old static about one of the naughtier Nightsisters and liked how it looked.

Arun, a big Dathomirian, targeted her with a burning, yellow eyed gaze. "You think you're so fucking marvellous," he spat, lip curled.

"I am fucking marvellous," Aestra confirmed for the record.

"I despise you. We all do," he scoffed with an extra helping of loathing.

She scanned the group until she met light grey eyes too gentle for the severe, angular face they were trapped in, a few locks of silver hair spilling across them. Rem's tall, rangy form lounged casually against a wall, wearing his usual roughed up sweater loose over thermals, regarding her with a suppressed half smile.

She tilted her head: True?

He raised an eyebrow and confirmed with a shrug: Such is the Way of the Sith.

Aestra checked the crowd of glowering faces that regarded her with looks of undisguised, simmering contempt. Confirmed then: she was still one of the more popular students.

She turned back to Arun. "You'd be crazy not to," she assured him and took a step closer, her eyes level with his. "But Arun, I understand you. It's ok," she soothed.

"You can't resist the hotness," Aestra breathed, lifting her chin a little higher, exaggerating the arch of her back a little more, "So you desire me."

She moved closer still, "Then you hate me for making you feel that way."

She watched him swallow hard, and - fuck, what an easy target he was - his eyes flicked over her body. Dathomirians were their own worst enemies. She could almost feel sorry for him. Almost, but he deserved a little extra humiliation, and if they were sparring anytime soon, it would be nice to have a psychological edge over him.

"And you hate yourself for wanting it. When you meditate on your hate-center, I bet you see my face. What a poor excuse for Sith you are," she sneered.

A couple of sniggers from the gallery, and Arun took a step back, glancing to his side.

"Better than you," he hissed, "You'll never ascend. Never. And you want it so much. I'm going to laugh so hard when Inferna picks Tor."

Fucking Tor. As if she needed reminding.

He was watching of course, from a far corner, looming over the other students, his red-rimmed eyes blazing at her from a pale, scarred, hairless head, the lower part of which was covered by a bulky metal respirator. Each rasping breath caused the control panel perched on top of bulging, black wrapped pecs to rise and fall in time with the creak and clink of the armor plating strapped to his enhanced musculature. From the tip of his ugly bald head to the toe of his spotless black boots and all the shiny black bits in between, he was a walking cliche. A medley of Sith Hall of Famers, the Dark Side's greatest hits. But damn, he knew the Force and his saber technique was flawless. He played the game perfectly, looking and acting as if he'd already ascended to Sith and it was a mere formality that Darth Inferna would select him as their apprentice.

But she had to ascend. Had to. Or all those years scrabbling in the dirt and the shit, the debris of the shattered dream of Exegol, all the bitter, angry tears swallowed up by the dust and chaos of the struggle to survive, would have been for nothing.

She needed a reason for all those wide eyed nights spent wrestling the gnawing, writhing fear that filled her empty belly; that they would be next, that the heroic fucking Lightsiders, who never, ever stopped hunting them would appear, gleaming too bright to look at, and they would kill her right there where she lay on filthy cold stone, just a skinny beaten girl, too tired to run, too scared to fight and so very alone.

A reason for all those mornings where fleeting, blissful moments still wrapped up in scraps of sleep, warmed by a memory of a whisper with a gentle touch, curdled into a sickening dread of the day ahead, and she had to push those fantasies down, hold them under and drown them in the depths, lest they drag her with them to suffocate in an ocean of tears.

There had to be a reason why the Force had found her, stoked the dying embers that filled her skin where there had once been a girl, fed the fury until it pulsed hot through her veins, giving her the strength to rise, again and again, to endure, to bring her to this moment. Ascending, learning at Inferna's side, gaining the strength to one day surpass them, the kind of strength that could kill Jedi, take the fight to the Republic and bring about the Age of Shadow. That was the only path that made sense of it all, the only reason. Otherwise, why? The Force had decided, and here she was, ready to serve and make the galaxy right once more. She would find a way to beat Tor and ascend, somehow.

Before the morning's convivial banter with Arun could continue, the acolytes' attention was drawn to the scraping groan of massive metal doors being dragged open. They parted to reveal a black robed, silver skinned Zabrak, hands clasped behind his back, regarding the students with a piercing red eyed stare and a sly smile. Master Xate. The horns atop his head radiated inked designs that resembled sharp, angled branches and told a story of a distinguished lineage gone astray.

"Let us begin," he announced and stood aside, motioning for them to enter the hall. In the facility's previous life, centuries ago, It had been a loading bay. Now it was a wide open space, perfect for combat training, open on one side to one of the vast Terracrafting chasms that dove deep into the planet, its gloom pierced by shafts of grimy grey light from the surface a short distance above.

Massive, discarded machinery of unknown origins and purpose lined the training area. Inside stood Master Dziet, a tall Arkanian, her white hair cut down to a silver stubble that complemented deathly pale skin to contrast starkly with the filmy black robes that flowed around her slender form. The pupil-less silver orbs of her eyes watched them (Aestra assumed - it could be hard to tell, and occasionally embarrassing) take their places uneasily. She usually took theoretical and meditation classes while Xate taught combat, but here she was, looking even more pensive and tense than usual.

Aestra glanced again at Master Xate's smile; an uncommon and unnerving sight. What tortures did he have planned this fine morning?

Chapter Text

Eyes of yellow, ringed with red, flicked away as the Zabrak straightened up out of his bow.

Hah. Even won the staredown.

Mirroring him, Aestra completed her bow to signify the end to sparring and smirked in satisfaction, not taking her gaze from her opponent as he stalked off in sullen silence, nursing the bruises inflicted by her practice saber.

Fen-Rit was one of the top students, but she'd easily had the better of him. Her saber technique had improved, and her long limbs and quickness were difficult for the other students to handle.

Tor had better watch his back. Now that would be a match, though it seemed that Xate was never going to pair them. What was he afraid of? She wasn't afraid; she'd relish the chance to knock the bastard off his pedestal.

One eye still on Fen-Rit in case he tried to get in a cheap shot, Aestra glanced around the rest of the pairings as they completed their matches. No serious injuries by the look of it. No unapproved Force Choking, no sneaky Pushes into delicate bits of anatomy. Quite disappointing; she never grew tired of watching a contest boil over into uncontrolled violence. Perhaps that wasn't surprising though, Aestra reflected as she surveyed the students. The weak and reckless had already been weeded out and consigned to life as a servitor, attending to the needs of the colony with no more privileges (such as they were). Or, if they were less fortunate, consigned to the blade of one of the stronger acolytes' sabers. What remained were the strong and the wily. Survivors.

Rem was finishing up his match with that Bith weirdo, Nozon, both of them competing their bows. No obvious signs of how he had fared, but Nozon was a difficult matchup, quick and tricky with his use of the Force. Aestra would need to quiz Rem for tips during their surface run later in the afternoon.

Her attention was drawn to Xate, berating a student with more than the usual intensity. One of the Chiss twins; H-ren or H-ran, impossible to tell. They were breathing heavily, sweat lending a reflective sheen to their deep, dark blue skin, as they stared off into space, avoiding the fierce stare of their master.

"You fight like a Jedi," Xate spat, "Too controlled. Too restrained."

The zabrak walked up to the student, close enough for them to feel his breath. The Chiss, to their credit, didn't shrink away.

"Find your passion, connect with your anger. Fight like a Sith or leave us to join the herd."

Master Xate stalked away to one end of the landing bay, where Dziet was waiting. And one of the Eternal, Aestra noticed for the first time. Interesting - they'd not seen one of those guys for weeks now. Why was this one here? The scientist was dressed in this (and every) season's fashion for demented cultists: shrouded in a dark, heavy cloak, face hidden in the depths of a multi layered hood, hands in dark gloves. She couldn't even identify their species. None of the colonists had ever seen any of them wear anything else, but rumor had it this was just to protect them from the unclean gaze of outsiders, and among themselves they wore more practical lab and work gear. Fucking weirdos, the whole fanatical lot of them.

But the colony was lucky to have them; the weapons, field generators and various gadgets they constructed were traded with other Darksider outposts or outsiders, for seeds, ships, slaves and other necessities. And contraband: holos, statics, booze, slaves that were more attractive than strictly necessary. As a recipient of these niceties (not the slaves, she guessed they went to the Council, or - Force forbid - the Eternal themselves) Aestra should have been grateful, but the sight of one of those shuffling, shrouded figures always brought an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. A sour memory, tasted, but not recalled, from a long time back. Her childhood on Exegol, she guessed.

Xate and the Eternal exchanged a few words. Was the scientist nodding beneath its hood? Dziet watched Xate pensively, folded her arms and took a breath. The zabrak turned back to the hall.

"H-ren," he called, to the student he had rebuked a moment ago.

So it had been H-ren. What was in store for them? Probably some kind of experiment. A Force enhancer, or some new cybernetic implant. These rarely worked, but when they did, they were in demand, and the colony would be rolling in food, holos and newer equipment for some time. Pity; H-ran was a snide little shit that had ratted them out to Master Brink and ruined holo evenings about a year back, so it would have been satisfying to see them turned into some broken down lobotomized cyborg. H-ren had actually been nice to her; she remembered them helping her to the medbay a couple years back, after a particularly nasty beating. Too bad.

The Chiss hesitated, and for a moment Aestra wondered if they were going to make a run for it, or throw themselves off the side, into the great shaft. It had been known. But they made the calculation, collected themselves and walked chin high with as much dignity as they could muster to the waiting elders, where Xate made introductions to the Eternal. The cultist set off for the exit and H-ren followed, daring just one glance back over their shoulder to their sibling, an expression on dark blue skin that Aestra couldn't read, but assumed meant nothing good. Then they were gone. H-ran stood still and silent, unable to look away from the direction their sibling had disappeared to.

Xate and Dziet talked in low voices, the tall Arkanian frowning, agitated. The muted conversation became angrier, and concluded with Dziet throwing her hands up and striding off, black robes trailing behind her like a dark blade.

Xate clapped his hands together, snapping the class to attention.

"A break with the schedule, students," his teeth were bared a little and his mouth twisted into a shape it was unaccustomed to but was as close as he ever came to a smile. "Hand in your sabers and line up against the wall."

Practice sabers were deposited with an attendant servitor for storage, and the class stood with their backs to the longest wall. The opposite side of the landing bay opened out into the terraforming shaft, a vast, bottomless void cut into the planet, its sides studded with parts of the facility that protruded out through the rock walls. Between them and that dim space, Xate paced, hands behind his back as he scanned the line of students.

Aestra lounged, leaning against the wall, fingertips drumming a rhythm on its cold metallic panels. Rem stood an arm's length away, arms folded, feet planted, ready.

"The anticipation is killing me." Aestra murmured, for Rem's ears only.

"That's just the galaxy's shittiest breakfast coming back up," Rem whispered back. Good guess, but not true. This morning's algae and mycoprotein had been better than most.

Dziet reentered the hall wearing a typically Arkanian expression of haughty disdain and headed for Xate. She carried a small bundle.

"Ascension can not be achieved by all," Xate's voice cut across the bay, yellow eyes catching on each student in turn. "We must discover which of you have the potential, and which of you are lacking."

Dziet thrust the bundle towards him, which he accepted and unwrapped to reveal two lightsabers. The Academy's collection was kept locked away, under the supervision of the Council. Each one was unique, a relic constructed by a Sith or high-level adept, with a history all its own. They were of huge symbolic and cultural value, and practically irreplaceable. Most of them were ancient, some on the verge of falling apart, cells failing, focusers decaying. The Eternal had the knowledge and skills to repair or construct one, but not the tools or materials; the Republic and the lightsiders had all known kyber deposits under observation. If a saber was damaged, then they were potentially one warrior down in any conflict.

Aestra hadn't seen one for months. The memory of the first time she'd held one burned brighter than a blade; the startling flash of ignition, the way it had hummed in her grasp, its power seeming to fill her entire body. She had felt like a vessel that the saber had charged to overflowing with the Force.

And more than that, she had felt the weight of history, heavy in her hand. The Sith that had forged it, the ones that had held it, cherished it, fought with it, killed with it. A heroic line of warriors that culminated in her, a girl with fury in her heart and the weapon through which her desires could be realized. The saber was a physical connection to those that had trod the path before her, and she felt their hopes and hates and anger coursing through her, awakening a destiny in which her hitherto insignificant story became a chapter in the glorious history of the Sith. She remembered standing, rapt, overwhelmed with the sense of becoming one with a grand culture and tradition, her path ahead clear at last, woven into a tapestry that spanned the galaxy and millennia.

Would she hold one again today? It would be about time.

Xate placed one of the sabers on the floor, a few paces from the edge of the bay, walked ten paces parallel to the edge and placed the other.

Aestra felt the intake of breath from the students rather than heard or saw it: a duel. Duels were to the death. They'd only had a handful since the start of studies; Force adepts were too valuable to waste. Duels were used occasionally to thin out the numbers, a reminder that poor performance might be punishable by death instead of just dismissal to a life of service. But everyone had performed well recently. H-ren had had a bad day at the wrong time and been handed to the Eternal. So this was something different.

Xate glared at the students, his gaze settling on one. "Arun," he called out, and indicated one of the sabers.

Definitely something different. Arun was a very capable student. Not the best with the saber, but strong with the Force.

The Dathomiri walked to the saber and picked it up.

Xate's eyes wandered along the line, but not for long. Aestra met his stare with her own.

"Aestra," he called, his eyes on her, observing her reaction.

She felt no surprise, no alarm. Just a rush of adrenaline.

"Don't die," Rem stared straight ahead, unmoving, "I'd have to make the surface runs with Tor."

"I'll throw my life away next week then." She straightened up and started to walk towards the saber.

"Watch for his malacia," she heard Rem murmur. Malacia was a Force skill that distorted the senses of its subject. Done right, it could disorient an opponent for a second or two. Long enough to land a fatal blow.

Her steps echoed around the bay. Was that chill she felt due to the sweat from sparring, drying? Was her heart thumping so strongly due to adrenaline or fear? Was this it? Was this the day she died? She would not cringe from death if the Force willed it so. She had dedicated her life to the glory of the Dark Side, so she was its tool, to be used as it saw fit, to live or die according to its unknowable design.

Perhaps the Force was rebuking her earlier demands, so reckless in hindsight. Would this be the day it willed her story to end, not as a chapter in Sith history, not even a footnote, just another nameless body among so many that paved a path that wound through empires and anarchy, tragedy and triumph.

No.

Not today. Not ever. Hers was a life driven by destiny. She would not fail now.

She reached the saber and bent down to lift it. One of the newer models. Quite light. Shorter than most, an all-metal handle, carved with ridged patterns for grip. Not ideal but don't entertain negative thoughts - it would do. Certain sabers had slightly shorter or longer blades than standard, but she didn't think this was one of them.

Xate had positioned them a few paces away from the edge of the bay and its yawning void beyond. Close enough to be on their minds, but only a factor if someone made it so.

Arun was just ten paces away. Aestra searched his face for signs of fear or weakness, but there were none, just focus and determination in angry red eyes and a grim set jaw. As it should be. Don't underestimate him.

She was the superior saber wielder, and they both knew it. His route to victory would be to use the Force to keep her at a distance and wear her down. Her objective would be to get close and engage.

Xate withdrew back towards the line of students who watched in silence. He raised his arm.

Aestra tightened her grip on the saber. How would she close the distance? What would his first move be?

Xate's arm fell.

Aestra skipped to her left, away from the edge, using a little Force speed.

Impact on her right shoulder and arm, twisting her around. Force push. Fuck he'd thrown that fast. Hard and focused. But it had mostly missed her, and she'd kept hold of the saber.

A threat, behind. She threw up a shield a split second before it was hit by metal objects, bullet fast. He'd noticed them loose in the machinery along the back wall.

Two good attacks. But now she would have a moment, just a second, while he adjusted for the next.

Take the initiative.

She threw out a Push quick, not expending effort on power and focus. He stumbled back a couple of steps towards the edge. It would be on his mind now, a distraction.

Get in. Close the distance.

A Force assisted leap that would take her within a saber's length of him, igniting the blade while in the air.

At the apex of her arc, it hit her. The world tilted. Her right arm stretched into the distance, legs twisted shrinking under her body. The floor fell away as walls closed in and Arun seemed to hover before her. Was she still falling towards him?

Malacia. She'd walked right into it.

Her senses were fucked, so ignore them. Rely on the Force and muscle memory.

She closed her eyes and hit the ground as she heard him ignite the saber. Too slow, Arun. No need for sight; she knew where he would be and lunged, stabbing the blade at his heart. He parried, just.

Malacia dispelled, she opened her eyes and saw fear in his.

Press the initiative.

A feint drew his blade away, creating the opening. A stab at his chest, withdrawing fast, ready to block a counter that never came. He gasped and stepped backwards, letting his saber arm fall, a smoking hole where his heart should have been.

Arun's eyes never left hers as he stumbled, swallowing hard, over and over. He fell to his knees, and crumpled to the ground, saber slipping from his grasp to slice a shallow glowing channel in the ferrocrete floor. They'd remember that scar on the training ground, remember who had made it and why, Aestra thought.

He was struggling for breath now and seemed to be trying to say something. His mouth moved, but no real words came, just a wheezing groan. She wondered what he was trying to say, what truth might be fighting to escape before it was forever locked away, trapped behind cold blue lips. Aestra watched him from where she stood. It could be a ploy to get her close and take her with him somehow; the saber was still burning next to his outstretched hand. Not likely though.

While he writhed on cold stone, in some futile attempt to find a fleeting comfort in his remaining seconds, she lifted her gaze to the dark void. Shafts of sunlight from the surface pierced the gloom of the world's interior and she took a moment to look inward. How did she feel? Satisfied. Vindicated. She had called on the Force this morning, and it had called back, presenting a challenge that she had risen to meet. Her destiny was so clear she could taste it: Arun was just one of many that would die at her hand on a path that was to become a journey to a brilliant future.

Arun lay flat and still, his breath reduced to a soft hiss, growing quieter. His eyes were still fixed on her, but could he really see her, as he slipped away?

Xate's hand on her shoulder gave Aestra a start. "The weak feed the strong," his voice was almost gentle, "Arun served the Force to the best of his abilities."

"The weak feed the strong," she echoed.

"Well fought, Aestra," Xate gripped her shoulder, "Good awareness of your opponent and environment. Decisive at the correct moment."

He withdrew his hand, "But you have much to learn if Inferna is to accept you. And we have too little time. We must pose you greater challenges."

He turned and walked to the exit. "Dismissed," he waved to the students.

The pupil-less white orbs of Dziet's eyes made it difficult to know, but Aestra was sure that she was watching Xate as he passed, arms folded, her close-cropped silver hair bristling with anger. She had opposed the duel, Aestra saw now, but wasn't this the way of the Sith? The weak being used to feed the strength of those more capable?

Enough metaphorical feeding, time for the real thing. Aestra headed to the exit, and lunch, passing two servitors hurrying in the opposite direction. The task of retrieving the body fell to them. They would prepare it for a brief, solemn ceremony the following morning signifying the Dathomirian's final merging with the Force. She would pay her respects gladly, as she did for all those that fell in the service of the Dark Side. Arun deserved no less.

The students flowed from the bay, but one dark figure remained stationary, watching her, leaning against the far wall. Rem folded his arms, body enveloped by the oversized sweater, and nodded, one corner of his mouth turning upward: Not bad.

Aestra spread her hands and added a little swagger to her step: Still here.

Rem had been right. That breakfast hadn't gone down well at all. Lunch had better be an improvement.

Chapter Text

Morning classes completed, Trin stood on the steps of the Academy and watched the bustle of flow of Orrea, its townsfolk going about their day, wrapped up in life's duties and dramas. A few of them she recognised: artisans, shop or restaurant owners she'd spent a moment to talk with and make a connection, even if just a small one. Orrea was a small town, an island adrift in an ocean of leaves of green, and its scale suited her. If she traded this for the anonymity of one of the techno-sprawls of Atrisia, she'd miss it for sure.

Teela and Jerik exited the halls and approached, sharing some joke, a rare smile on Teela's face. She was a typical Mirialan, earnest, serious, a little prickly, though if anyone dared assert that, she would deny it indignantly and declare herself a radical deviant, listing at length all the ways she deviated from the stereotype. It was good to see Jerik breaking through her shell; but he had that effect on everyone, a relaxed humor that naturally put people at ease. The two of them had been spending more time together recently. The three of them, in fact. And how would the morning's developments affect that? Strengthen the bond, or strain it?

Case in point: if they knew she'd got up early to run to the highest point in the Temple in some silly, desperate attempt to gain inspiration and guidance on whether to stay the path, would that make them more or less confident in trusting her with their lives, in some hypothetical combat situation. What would that do to their trust in her? Nothing good.

"Last in, first out," teased Jerik with a smile, as they reached her.

"I'm starving," Trin announced, hoping to deflect from her pre-class activities, "Let's get that curry."

The three descended the path from the Academy, embarking on the lunchtime routine: a short walk to Orrea's food markets on the other side of town.

"I'm not surprised," Teela frowned, "Where were you? I heard you up well before the seventh bell."

Did Teela listen for her every morning? Their apartments were close together, just a few doors apart, in one of the narrow alleys in the twisting maze of the Lower Lanes. Most of the students were accommodated in the tiny, one-room, homes there. Some found them cramped, and certain species found them to be unacceptable, but demands for anything larger or with more facilities had to be weighed against the expectations for aspiring Jedi and their lifestyle.

Trin liked hers just fine. She found its size to be cozy, had done her best to make the space comfortable by filling it with as many local arts and crafts as her allowance would permit, and from one of its small windows, the peaks at the opposite side of the valley could be spied, which made for an inspiring start to the day.

"I wanted to catch the autumn sunrise from a good vantage point," Trin declared, "This is my favorite time of year."

"Hmm." Teela's purple eyes narrowed, but she probed no further.

The trio rounded a corner to head uphill, through a street packed with stores and workshops occupied by artisans of various disciplines. Elaborate signs and window displays proclaimed storied histories and evidence of the skills at work within, while the air was filled with the tang of burnt metal and cut wood and the clang, scrape and tapping of tools as they fashioned materials from every corner of Tython.

On passing a particular coppersmith's shop, Trin peered in the window. The wizened old ugnaught that owned the establishment was hard at work, welding two curved sheets of metal together while wearing one of the colorful visors he was known for. She wondered for a moment what that would turn out to be, but there in the window was what she was looking for: the small metal sculpture of a tree she'd had her eye on, its tiny copper leaves glinting red in reflected sunlight.

"It's still there," Jerik followed her gaze, "Sure there's any room for it? I don't want to have to make you another disaster shelf."

Trin winced. Jerik's crafting and installation of a shelf to house her ever expanding collection of extremely useful and/or decorative finds had been well meaning, but had gone astray somewhere in execution. "No thanks. I get dizzy looking at the last one. You're a master of dark geometry. I'll squeeze it in somewhere."

"I don't know how you can live like that," Teela said, "It would drive me mad."

"You're implying she's not?" Jerik's brow furrowed.

Trin stepped around a massive Whiphid plodding up the steps, a large basket of ores on its back. "Couple more weeks and I should be able to afford it."

Jerik shook his head. "Are you sure you get the same allowance as the rest of us?"

"I just don't spend as much of it on boozy nights out as you."

"Reminds me," Teela interjected, "Tonight is on. Meet at the courtyard at the top of the lanes, eighth bell."

"Ok. I've got a call with The Parents at seven." That left plenty of time to get ready for eight. If they had been leaving earlier, that would have given her an excuse to blow off this week's call. She shouldn't think that way, she knew. She should be grateful she had a family that cared about her, let alone supported her through the academy. Plenty of the students didn't; Teela for one.

"Oh and it's at Chelli's," Teela continued, "So, you know..." Chelli's was a bit smarter than the usual bars they visited.

"What?"

Teela simply looked her up and down with disapproving, dark eyes. "You know."

"Fine," Trin mentally skimmed through her wardrobe for a moment. More comfort and utility than style. "Lend me something?"

"You are a nightmare. Ok," Teela sighed,"If you promise to not wear it better than me."

"Done. No chance." Trin wondered sometimes if Teela realized how attractive she was. Or were her sharply defined features on that flawless lilac skin, not as fair to Mirialan eyes? Anyway, if Osin-Ree and Sarin were along this evening, those two would be getting all the glances and attention.

They rounded another corner and traversed across town to reach the food market on its far edge, welcomed into its cobbled paths by the aromas of local cuisines and the sounds of frying, boiling and conversation. The small restaurants were open-sided in the traditional style, to show the customers perched on high stools at the counter, chatting, eating or just watching the preparation of their dishes.

Their destination was in the heart of the markets. No high stools at Old Faye's; they sat on small wooden chairs surrounding a low table close to the street, watching passers-by while they waited for bowls of curry and bucco bread.

"So what do you make of it?" Trin ventured, settling into her seat shoulder to shoulder with Jerik, while Teela perched opposite. "Us being a team."

"Suits me," Jerik said, "I can focus on the saber while you throw things at them and scramble their brains."

Trin shook her head, "I'm still getting my head around the idea of using the Force to hurt or even kill someone. Classes have changed a lot this term."

"You'd better get used to it quickly," Teela shot her a look, "We've been through this before. Violent options aren't outside the Jedi way, if the non-violent ones have been tried first."

"I know," Trin agreed grudgingly. She knew she shouldn't worry. Violence and war was woven into Jedi history, a never ending dance of conflict and death with the Dark, both sides in lockstep to a tune unending and merciless. Nevertheless, it was at odds with everything she thought she knew about the Force, everything she'd been taught so far.

"Trin, I love you girl," Jerik was all mock seriousness, "But I can't be there, single handedly holding back an army of Darksiders from doing all kinds of unmentionables to you and Teela-"

"My hero," Teela rolled her eyes.

"-and you're there wondering if they're going to go Kylo on us instead of hitting them with Morichro or Combust." He put a hand on Trin's shoulder, "I've got to know you're Team Jerik."

Typical Jerik. A serious question in the lightest of wrappings.

"Fear not," Trin assured him, "My heart will always be Team Jerik." She patted his hand and his grin was visible even in the periphery of her vision. "Unless Rey Skywalker herself is there to turn them, I will assume they're Dark Side to the core."

"If Skywalker's there I'll just be chilling, leaving her to it."

A bowl of bread arrived and Teela tore a roll in two. "If the great Palpatine - sorry, Skywalker - is there, I'd have a few questions for her."

Jerik looked to the heavens. "We walked into that one. Conspiracy theories and Finn obsession for the rest of lunch," he smiled and Trin couldn't help but smile along. Teela was solidly in the camp that disbelieved the official account of events around the Fall of the Final Order and regarded the "Last Jedi's" subsequent disappearance into the Unknown Regions with great suspicion.

Trin wasn't entirely sure of the Savior of the Galaxy narrative that the Third Republic pushed regarding Rey Skywalker/Palpatine, but was inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt; if only half of the legends were true, they owed her a huge debt. And if Finn believed in her, how bad could she be? That should be enough for anyone.

"It's not an obsession if I've stopped dreaming about him," Teela reasoned.

"We're worrying about nothing. This is all years away," Trin protested, "There's no way they're making us fight Darksiders any time soon. We're not ready."

"True," Jerik agreed, "The Republic really would be in trouble if we were defending it."

"Speak for yourself," Teela frowned.

"Although," Trin said, "What did Fahn-"

"Master Fahn," Jerik interrupted. This was a point of debate among the students; "Master" implied a specific rank in the Jedi order, and even though it was used in the academies to mean "Teacher", some were uncomfortable using the honorific. Technically there were no more Jedi, just Force adepts, since the rank of Knight could only be achieved if trained by another Jedi. Tricky, when the Last Jedi had very publicly told the Council and Republic to fuck off and die, and headed off into the Unknown Regions on a quest to resurrect her dead boyfriend.

"Fine," Trin sighed, "What did Master Fahn mean by 'recent success'? You heard him."

"I heard something from Osin-Ree," Jerik began reluctantly.

Trin watched Teela shoot him a look across the table. Osin-Ree was a gorgeous Twi'lek, the academy's media star, who was taking an increasing amount of interest in Jerik.

"She'd heard from a student on Atrisia that most of the masters there disappeared for a few days. Classes canceled. They came back, no explanation, nothing. Very mysterious."

"So you're saying they were off fighting Darksiders?"

"Could be. We know something's going on. The masters drop enough hints."

"And they tell us nothing," Teela cursed under her breath.

"They can't be considering making us fight, can they?" Trin was incredulous. Some of them had had less than a year's saber training. They had only started learning to use the Force for offense this term.

"Doubt it," Jerik straightened up and dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand, "Those Atrisia guys are full of shit anyway, we know that." There were always rumors of bizarre goings on at Atrisia academy, their larger, better funded, rivals.

"But it's part of the deal," Jerik said, "Fighting Darksiders is part of what we signed up for. It's the downside to all the privileges, the status."

"Privilege and status," muttered Teela, "Which academy are you going to?"

Three bowls of steaming curry and more bread arrived. Trin had opted for something milder today, Jerik had ordered his usual fire-breather and Teela the least worst option.

"Can't wait for tomorrow and Nuna wraps," Teela grabbed a spoon and ate hungrily, nevertheless.

"I honestly thought your tastes would have expanded after a year. I'm just trying to broaden your horizons." Jerik was becoming resigned to her Mirialan preference for - by human standards - blandness.

"I appreciate the thought, if not the food."

"Is it what we signed up for though?" Trin posed the question, "I mean deadly combat, not Faye's deadly curry. I thought the Sith were all gone, the Knights dead, Darksiders scattered, mopped up by Republic forces."

"There's so many rocks to hide under in this galaxy," Teela stared into her bowl, her voice flat and distant, "You can never be sure they're gone. They're always there in some dark hole, like cockroaches, plotting their evil shit."

Jerik reached across the table to give the Mirialan's arm an affectionate squeeze. She and Trin had been friends for more than a year now after entering the academy together, but in all that time Teela had never talked about the details of what had happened to her family. As far as Trin knew they had been colonizing a system near Thila, in the wrong place at the wrong time, too far from help, turning over the wrong rock and finding Darksiders underneath.

"I've seen them, you haven't," Teela continued, "If we can help exterminate them, we shouldn't shy away from it. It's our duty. If I get the chance..." she sucked in a breath and turned to the street, eyes flicking over the passers by. Jerik didn't withdraw his hand.

Trin fought the urge to go and hug her, "Well I'm too young to go out like that anyway." She announced, "I'm not dying until I see Celestial Core Cataclysm 6."

"Force sakes," Jerik released Teela's arm and sat back, "You and your holos. Everyone will fall into that rift, the continuum collapses, and It'll be one huge retcon of 4 and 5, mark my words."

"If they don't make Rikiki marrying Rin one of the optionals then I'm out this time. They're meant for each other." Teela dug into her bowl again.

Trin tutted, "No appreciation of culture. 5 was perfect without optionals. I think 3C6 is safe. Fahn's not introducing us to Sith anytime soon."

The others murmured their agreement but said nothing, just finished lunch while they observed the comings and goings of people living lives unconcerned with matters of Light and Dark, life and death.

Chapter Text

"Move your focus to your breathing. Feel the air being drawn in through your nose, into your lungs, feel it cool against your throat..."

Trin tried to fix her mind on the movement of breath in and out of her body, the contraction and expansion of her chest that pushed and pulled the air. Keeping her attention there was the trick. Her sitting position didn't quite seem right, crossed legged on a foam cushion, and a twinge was developing in her right butt cheek. She shifted in an attempt to relieve it. Meditation required that they close their eyes, so she couldn't see the other students, but she bet they weren't uncomfortable. She was sure Teela was perfectly relaxed, completely focused.

"Focus on the rise and fall of your chest..."

Master Ranna sat at the head of the class, a sculpture in silver and white, a picture of serenity. Her silver hair hung in perfect straight lines, its tips brushing her thighs, framing a long, pale face. But beyond this peace hid a rebellion of sorts; she was Echani, a species renowned for combat being an integral part of their culture (Echani believed that to understand something truly, one needed to fight it, find and test its weaknesses, experience its strength), but she had rejected that to be led by the Force along the Jedi path. That an Echani led meditation classes while a Human took combat was a running joke among students, though they enjoyed seeing species stereotypes bent and broken. Trin had noticed that her non-conformity exhibited itself in other ways; two tiny pink streaks in her hair, either side of her head. Tiny, but there, and Echani never colored their hair.

Ranna's voice was given a flat, squashed quality by the noise suppressors that studded the surfaces of the meditation hall. It was a smaller, more intimate space than the combat arena, with a low ceiling and a few partly shuttered windows that spilled streaks of sunlight across the floor. Bit of a contradiction, Trin mused, sealing them away from outside distractions, so they might practice their connection to all things.

Breathing! Bring your thoughts back to your breathing, girl. Keep them there.

She sat almost within touching distance of Agen, a zabrak. How did it feel to have two hearts, she wondered? When Agen was still like this, or in bed at night, he'd be able to sense both of them pumping. Were they always synchronized or could they follow different rhythms? Always synchronized, she guessed, or surely there would be problems.

At least two students she knew had terrific crushes on him; there was always a hint of danger with Zabrak, the lure of the bad-boy some found irresistible. Not her thing at all, though. She wondered how many classmates had had their head on that chest and listened to two hearts beating.

Trin had never been very good at stilling her mind.

She dragged her focus back to her breathing, but Ranna had moved on.

"The Force is in the air that surrounds you. It fills you. It connects you. We are surrounded by it. Feel it connecting you to the student at your side..."

Opening herself to the Force felt like a release. She felt as if she was immersed in an ocean, always moving, swimming with life.

"...it joins you to every student in the academy. Sense them around you. And further..."

Trin opened herself to what was beyond the confines of the room and-

Jagged black peaks broke through a blasted flat grey plain, jutting into a gunmetal sky swept with wispy white clouds. She could see no trace of color, just shades of black.

Her feet were on a rocky surface, almost glassy smooth. She was walking but stopped suddenly, involuntarily - she had no control over her body - and looked around. She was tall, much taller than usual. The ground was too far away and her hands and feet seemed absurdly distant, at the end of limbs stretched tight, wrapped in something skintight.

A vaguely mushroomy taste in her mouth. She inhaled, sucking in thin, cold air that tasted like dead fires. A light, chill breeze disturbed the long hair that fell either side of her face.

She turned, and there was a man behind her. Not much older than a boy really. He was dressed in dark clothing that was loose and worn, silver hair swept across a handsome, angular face, strands drifting across pale eyes that met hers. He looked like a character from a bad holo about glamorous, dangerous outsiders that drew pretty young things to the dark side, but there was no tension in her body; she felt at ease in his company.

The boy frowned. "Ae. You ok?"

"-open yourself to the forest that surrounds us. See its trees, the life within them and between them..."

Back in the mediation hall. Warmth and the scent of heated oils.

Trin gasped, eyes wide, her hands going to her throat and chest, a reflexive check that she was still there, still herself.

It had happened again, just like at the shrine. She had been in someone else's body, seeing through their eyes, feeling through their senses. What the fuck was going on?

"Trin," Master Ranna addressed her directly, "Eyes closed, please. Focus."

Trin was frozen for a moment, unable to do anything more than look at Ranna with eyes startled wide. If she closed them again, would she go back to that cold, grey lifeless place? She didn't want that, didn't want to lose control of her body and senses again. It felt like descending into a deep pool, the waters closing over her head without any guarantee of a way back to the surface.

"Trin?" Master Ranna was still looking at her.

"Sorry." Was all Trin could manage to squeeze out.

She closed her eyes, but didn't dare reach out with the Force. Instead, she shut it out and tried to look composed while sweat prickled her armpits, and she listened to her heart pounding so loud she could have sworn she had two.

All she could see was that blasted black planet and the boy staring back at her.

Chapter Text

Rem was still looking at her, puzzled.

Aestra glanced around. There was nobody with them, of course. Just the usual desolate shitscape. But she'd had that sensation again, like a breath on her neck, a whisper in her mind. The same feeling as when she'd touched the Xube, just before she had the vision. Was another one coming? She hesitated a second, waiting. Nothing.

"Sure. Fine." Aestra dismissed him with a shrug and resumed walking. Best get on with it. If they took too long or screwed it up, someone else might get the job of doing surface hunts, and she kind of enjoyed her trips topside. Punctuated the days, at least.

"You look a bit stressed." Rem moved alongside her, the grav-lift following him silently, its wide, flat platform hovering at waist height. For now it was empty, save for a few nets and long levers they would need later if things went to plan.

"I think events are weighing on your delicate soul." She could sense his amusement without turning to look.

"And I thought I was hiding it so well," she sighed theatrically.

"You're trying, but I can see through you."

"It's true," Aestra clutched a hand to her chest, "The news that everyone dislikes me has crushed my tender heart."

"I knew it."

"I was hoping for utter loathing."

"Don't we all," Rem nodded, "Gives you something to aim for though."

"Killing Arun helped me stay positive."

"I could tell. Did you enjoy it?"

"I was just doing what I trained for," one corner of her mouth turned up, "But maybe. A little."

They continued crunching across the plain, the dark rock glazed almost glassy in places into shattered obsidian panes, jagged and sharp under their boots. Terraforming towers were visible now, ghostly, slender columns on the horizon, soaring into the haze. Aestra had never reached them - there was never time - but she'd heard stories of the vast woven meshes that made curious noises in the wind, reaching kilometers high where they hadn't succumbed to the elements and years and fallen.

Rem looked across at her. "I thought he had you for a second."

Aestra snorted, "And did you care?"

"Maybe. A little," he smiled. "But don't you think it was a waste?"

She shrugged, "Such is the way of the Sith. The weak feed the strong."

"Sure. Such is the way of the Sith," he echoed, "But he was one of the stronger adepts. He could have been useful, and we need everyone we can get."

"Sadly true," she agreed reluctantly. By her count they were down to twenty acolytes now. How many more existed, scattered across the galaxy, wasn't widely known; colonies were isolated to protect the whole, to ensure the infiltration or invasion of one didn't lead to them all falling like dominos.

Aestra looked to the horizon of the dead planet, across its scoured surface and black peaks. The place had a certain Sith feel to it, but they weren't hiding underground in a dead-end shithole out of a position of strength. Not for the first time, she ached with regret that she had been born in such a time and not during one of the great Empires, when she could have seen the Sith resplendent and proud across the galaxy.

"I guess Xate did the math," she said, "He figured they'd gain more by feeding Arun to me than keeping him."

She kicked a small rock, "And If Arun had killed me, then I wasn't worth having anyway."

Rem shook his head. "Xate thinks he only needs one and fuck the rest. He's obsessed with one of us being picked by Inferna."

"I don't blame him. It would be a major fucking deal if one of his acolytes ascended. He'd be a part of history. Maybe even get off this rock."

"The chances might be tiny. Inferna's only going to pick one and we have no idea how many others are up for it. It could be hundreds."

"Beats me. Ah," she spotted their objective in the distance, just visible as they rounded a rocky spur projecting from the range of peaks. A Gnort, grazing on the tough, spiky bushes that grew on the relatively sunny side of the hills. "Nice. A big one. Do you really think there's hundreds of us?"

"Doubt it," Rem spoke a little softer, and they stayed close to the cover of the spur. "Which is all the more reason not to waste someone like Arun."

"You're just worried that you'll be next." Aestra teased.

He sighed, "I'm a soldier. I fight for the cause. I die for it if that's what the Force asks of me. But if I have to go, I'd rather it be fighting Jedi than..." his eyes went to her despite himself, "You."

There was an odd look on his face that Aestra couldn't decode. She had become aware that through some mysterious alchemy, they had developed an unusual kind of relationship, one completely unlike the usual combination of competition, antagonism and suspicion that made up her interactions with the other acolytes. Here they were, alone, far from the rest of the colony, and she felt relaxed, completely at ease and focused on the task at hand rather than spending all her time watching her back and calculating whether it was in her best interest to stick something sharp in his.

It was fair to say that of all the acolytes, Rem was the only one she didn't dislike spending time with. She could even go as far as saying that their forays onto the surface were the high spot of her week. Unless she'd been granted the opportunity to send one of her colleagues to join permanently with the Force, of course.

He was still giving her the odd look. His pale eyes seemed to be asking a question that she'd not heard, but she felt compelled to answer.

She stopped walking and faced him. He did likewise.

"Rem," she said. "If it ever comes to that, I promise-," Aestra reached out and gripped his shoulder, not taking her eyes from his. Rem's mouth opened as if to speak.

"-to squeeze out a single bitter tear onto your butchered remains," stifled sniggers escaped her as she carried on towards the Gnort.

Rem looked to the heavens. "I'll take that," he followed her as she struggled to contain her mirth, "But only because Such is the Way of the Sith."

"Thanks. You get me."

The Gnort was a couple hundred meters distant and hadn't spotted them. It turned away, looking for better grazing as they stalked forward, crouching low.

"Come on," she whispered, "If we get this done quick, I'll have time for another look at you-know-what."

Rem groaned. "Fuck. You're a bad influence. Even for a Darksider."

Dark eyes met pale gray ones and Aestra permitted herself a wry smile.

Chapter Text

"Ae. You ok?"

That was what he'd said. Trin's mind returned again to the young man with silver hair, frowning at her, tilting his head to one side, his pale skin and hair stark against a vista of black, broken plains and distant peaks. The question in his voice. The image and words still bright in her mind. Was 'Ae' a person?

"Eighth bell. Don't forget!" Teela's call from the top of the academy steps brought Trin back to Tython and the here and now.

"I heard the second time," Trin called back as she trotted down the last of the steps and headed into the town, destination home. "Have I ever let you down?"

"Yes," came the reply, but she was already too far away to give such a ridiculous accusation the rebuttal it deserved. She would be on time, as always. Or thereabouts.

Trin was at the entrance of the Lanes before it dawned on her that perhaps Teela had meant that she had let her down in ways other than being late for a night out. Fair enough. That was entirely possible.

The Lanes were a maze of narrow, cobbled alleyways crammed full of small one-bedroom apartments. Its twisting, branching terraces gave the impression of having grown organically on the mountainside, and their appearance reinforced this, the curving walls smoothed over with plaster and painted bone white. The inhabitants were free to paint their dwelling's wooden doors in any color they desired, resulting in a myriad of bold patterns and designs punctuating the blank bright surfaces.

Most of the students lived somewhere in the Lanes. Trin was in the lower, downhill section, and after a few minutes walking, came to her one-of-a-kind door: a blue, green and purple design that reminded her of sunsets. She unlocked it and walked in.

The curved, white plaster surfaces of the street extended into apartment interiors, though better finished, and the cobblestones were replaced by flagstones that were refreshingly cool in summer but tiptoe chilly in winter. Trin had done her best to make the small three-room space as comfortable and personal as possible, within the constraints of her Padawan's allowance. Locally woven rugs made a cold floor more comfortable, and worked well as hangings in the hot seasons, giving the walls a splash of color as well as deadening sounds.

The quarters were long and narrow. At the front, they received natural light from windows either side of the door and this was where the food preparation area had been situated, with worktop, cupboards and cooking equipment extending along one side of the room. Trin walked further into the interior to drop her bag onto a low table, next to her holo unit, and collapse onto brightly colored cushions that covered the curved seating extending from the wall. This built-in sofa was constructed from the same whitewashed plaster that covered most of the apartment surfaces and had been designed to prioritize appearance over comfort; she needed to buy more cushions to ensure no contact between backside and the stone underneath.

Opposite her was the door to the bathroom and on her right, further inside, was an arch that led to a cozy space containing her bed and wardrobe, and - in Trin's opinion - the best feature of the place; a small window that filled her room with the sunrise and started each day with a view of the valley.

Trin lounged on the cushions and reviewed. Meet at the eighth bell, at the courtyard above the Lanes. It was just past six now, so she could easily cook a quick meal, clean up, take the usual call with the family at seven, and have plenty of time left to make herself look devastating.

The boy with silver hair and pale eyes frowned at her.

Enough. Push that shit out of her mind for now. It could wait. But what if it happened again? The first time was right after she'd touched that thing on the shrine. That must have been the cause, somehow. Force only knows how, but it had to be. But this second time, she'd been nowhere near the shrine. Did this mean it could happen at any time? On each occasion she'd seen through someone else's eyes and been a passenger in their body. Was it the same person, twice? The sudden disorientation and loss of control was frightening. She didn't want to go through that again, but how could she stop it?

Where might this lead? She had no idea, only a gnawing worry.

Chapter Text

Aestra ran her fingers over the cool, textured stone of the door, and tried to imagine what lay on the other side. The Temple? Or something else? Who had constructed this hidden entrance, and why?

She traced a fingertip around the eight symbols that were carved into its surface in a circle. Most of them were different, but one repeated. She was sure she'd seen similar glyphs in a history class some time back, so if she could get access to the colony's archives, there was a chance their meaning could be deduced. What would it say?

Even if it were something banal like "Sith temple No. 34", that would still be a thrill; something that was truly hers. In a place where everything was shared, the door and its mysteries were her discovery, her secret, its mysteries for her alone to solve.

Aestra touched the nanocling at her throat and swiped one fingertip down to unzip it and pull out the pencil and paper that had been pressed to her chest. She flattened the paper against the door and sketched the symbols quickly.

The door was about as wide as she was tall, and almost twice the height, and aside from the carved symbols, had no other features, no obvious way to move it (and she had tried). It was set into the side of a large, low slab of rock, hidden in a small depression that put it below ground level. It was difficult to see from the surface, but they'd found it by chance one day, a couple of weeks back, when following a wounded furn. Aestra had exhorted Rem to tell no-one and so far, the pact had held.

"Aestra, come on," came the call from above and behind her.

She turned to see Rem pacing back and forth beside the grav-lift. The body of the Gnort lay on the platform now, secured by webbing, and the machine hovered a little unsteadily at knee height. The acolyte folded his arms and urged her on by way of a cool-eyed glare.

"Relax. We got a Gnort. They'll be super pleased with us," Aestra completed the sketch, rolled the paper around the pencil and slid them both down the front of her 'cling before zipping it up.

"You're for it if they catch you," Rem unfolded his arms and resumed pacing. "I'll be for it."

"They clearly have no idea it's here, so just don't tell them. Problem solved," Aestra basked for a moment in her impeccable logic before putting one palm against the stone, taking a breath and attempting to connect via the Force to whatever lay beyond. Nothing useful came to her, just a vague sense of cold, dead rock and empty voids.

She stepped back to survey the door and the rock face it was embedded in. "If we could sneak some power tools out of the Construction habs, do you think they'd get through it?"

From behind her came a long, exasperated obscenity involving Sith saints and Nightsisters.

Aestra tutted, "Better watch it. This is virtually holy ground. Didn't your mother ever tell you what Darth Nihilus does to blasphemers?"

Rem turned his gaze from the sky to shoot his best fuck-you look right between her eyes. "So says the girl who's considering breaking into a temple."

"Breaking in respectfully."

But how? She better hope those inscriptions matched something in the archives.

Chapter Text

"Hello?"

"Can you hear me?"

Trin huffed and sagged back against the wall, trying to keep her backside in contact with cushions. In front of her, the holo unit sat on a low table of white stone, flashing a status message in the space above its squat plastic and ceramic disc:

< Connecting... >

...

< Connecting...... >

...

< Insufficient nodes participating in mesh. Quantum interference is likely.

Customers are reminded that calls between an infinite number of participants are against the Terms of Service. >

...

< Poor hyperspatial connection may result in tachyonic interactions.

Your call may end before it begins. >

...

Tython was such a backwater. The world that time forgot. How did it manage to have such terrible connections to other core worlds despite being (relatively) nearby. Yes, ok, that's not how hyperspace works, she knew. All the new node development was taking place further out on the Inner Rim. Nothing happened in Deep Core and particularly not on Tython.

Living in a picture-perfect little town on an unspoilt mountainside surrounded by verdant forests, was all very wonderful, but should that mean she had to put up with broken tech? No. Basic rights.

An image flickered into life above the holo unit positioned on the low table: her mother, wearing something voluminous and elaborate. Did she get dressed up specially for these calls?

Trin sat back and hugged a cushion. At the other end of the call they should be able to see only the long seating and the wall behind her. Nothing to trigger questions about cooking, eating, the empty (lonely) cramped apartment. Dinner and cleanup had inevitably overrun, so she needed this wrapped up in ten.

"Mum. I can only see you. Can you pan it out."

Neita, her mother, frowned, reaching below the visible viewport, and the image zoomed out to include her father, seated on a sofa. No Brandt, her older brother, but that was expected - these calls just rubbed salt in the disappointment of his own time in Atrisia academy.

Father sat on the dreadful Gundaark hide sofa that had been gifted to him by a governor of Telos IV when he had been ambassador there. The holo showed the balcony doors wide open behind them but its image stopped there, leaving Trin to imagine the forests of Hevurion past that, and distant echoes of a childhood spent exploring them with Brandt. Those days seemed more than mere light years away. Her parents never left Atrisia lately and Trin had gradually come to accept that a visit from them was never going to happen.

Neita took her place next to her father, "There's my girl. How are you?"

"Great, great."

"Working hard?"

"Always."

"Our girl. A Jedi," Neita shook her head in wonder.

"Not yet, Mum"

"We're so proud of you," she sighed.

"There's a long way to go."

"There's an incredible journey in front of you," Father still sounded like a politician, even though he'd retired last year, "a voyage of discovery."

"It is, it really is."

"And we're with you every step of the way."

Didn't she know it. "Thanks Dad."

"They work you so hard," Mum tutted, "You look very tired."

"I'm fine," Trin assured her. She had pulled a few late ones recently though.

"You look so skinny." Check that one off the bingo card.

It was true, she'd lost weight in the past few months, so she couldn't be too annoyed at Mum pointing this out. "I've been doing more fit class. They're training our mind and body, you know." she announced, "But I'm eating plenty. Had curry for lunch today."

"With Jerik and Teela?"

"Yup." Please no 'Jerik, such a nice boy...'.

"You should post more to your stream. We have to follow that Twi'lek girl to know what's going on."

"Osin-Ree." Stars, now even her Mum and Dad followed her. If Rathtars and Rancors could operate tabs, that would make it the entire galaxy.

What had Osin posted recently? Thankfully her stream was super curated, fit for general audiences, even parents.

"Such a nice girl."

"I'm seeing her soon, in a few minutes." Set up the early exit.

"Studying?"

"Umm...," she didn't want to straight out lie, "...Night out actually." She'd walked into that one.

Mum tutted.

"Watch out. Don't get drawn to the dark side," Dad guffawed. He had to get one 'slipping to the dark side' jab into every call. He laughed, but his persistence had Trin starting to wonder if this concealed a genuine fear.

"My saber was still blue this morning."

"Mmm."

"When I'm sticking up posters of Anakin, then you can start worrying, Dad," Trin smiled, and added, "Although, he was a bit of a dish, so..."

"You all have a great responsibility," thankfully Dad didn't actually wag a finger, "You're the future of the Jedi order."

"We know." Nobody let them ever forget it.

"Take it easy. Not too much to drink."

"Just like you at my age."

"You might end up lopping something off with your light saber." He guffawed a bit more.

Since the ability to guffaw in return wasn't something Trin, or anyone under forty, possessed, she smiled and sighed instead. "I've told you before, they're kept locked up at the Academy."

"Is Jerik going?" Mum piped up. The comment about Anakin had been a tactical error. Took Mum's mind straight to boys, and lack thereof.

"Sure. Jerik will be there."

"Such a nice boy." Tick that one off.

"Mum," Trin cautioned.

"I'm just saying. You look so lonely in that little flat," Bingo card complete, so let's round this up.

"We're supposed to be ridding ourselves of attachments. It's the Jedi path."

"Hmm..." Mum would never get used to this. She emitted dubiosity waves that reached through light years, quantum and tachyonic interference.

"I'd better get moving. I have to get all dolled up. Going somewhere posh."

"Ok. Brandt sends his love. He's sorry he couldn't make it." Mum sighed.

Trin doubted that very much. "Ok, love to Brandt and all of you."

"Bye. Stay safe," the two of them chimed in unison.

...

...

Trin sighed and lay back on the uncomfortable bench-seat thing. The movement caused her bum to slip into a cushionless spot and hit stone, and she squirmed, assaulted by twin sources of discomfort, physical and emotional. Her mother and father probably worried about her more than they let on; she knew they'd found it hard, their youngest leaving for a lifetime of service, possibly never to return. A potentially dangerous life at that. And then they had to suffer their ungrateful daughter's occasional calls, distracted and wrapped up quickly. She knew she should be more generous with her time, but the life of a padawan was busy, ok? She'd make it up to them, somehow.

Thirty minutes to get cleaned up, dressed and beautiful. Easy.

Chapter Text

"How can something smell so fucking rank and taste so good?"

Aestra leaned back against the tattered, rusty mesh of the elevator as it grated a long, slow journey down to the colony.

Rem was pressed against the mesh next to her, the grav-lift and Gnort occupying the rest of the space and all of the air.

"Because you've been living on algae and bugs for the last few months?" he suggested.

"Years."

"Even your socks would taste good by now, with a bit of seasoning."

Aestra considered this. "You saying I smell?"

Rem kept his eyes fixed on the Gnort. "No..."

"Because if I do, it's not my fault. We've been out of shower gel for months now and the filters on this 'cling haven't been cleaned for even longer."

"Out of everything," Rem sighed, "We're way overdue for a supply run. I think they're even more worried than usual about being caught."

"It's beyond a joke. I mean, never mind my socks, my underwear is fucking nasty."

Rem wrinkled his nose, "The Dark Side is strong in you, girl."

"The Dark Side is strong in my knickers. I'm worried they're going to murder me in my sleep and ascend in my place."

The elevator lurched as it passed through a floor, its lights briefly illuminating an unused corridor that vanished into darkness.

Rem turned to her. "So did you get any insights today?"

Aestra smiled in satisfaction. "You're as intrigued as I am, admit it."

"Yeah, I'm interested. I'm just not sure it's worth all the shit that would come down on your head if you opened it and got into the temple."

"You agree it goes to the temple then. As to whether it's worth it, that depends on what I find there."

"What do you hope to find?"

Aestra chewed this over. "A fuck-off big Sith sword. So I can carve up Tor, Xate and anyone else that's in my way of ascending. There's no way Inferna could refuse me then."

Rem's brow furrowed, "So what's in that for me?"

"I'd put in a good word, and you could be our PA-slash-slave."

Rem snorted, "Good on my CV, but have you seen the mortality rate for Sith PAs?"

"Such is the Way of the Sith," Aestra confirmed.

The elevator shuddered to a halt, and Rem worked the handle that retracted the doors. As usual, the floor of the elevator was a hand span above the corridor, and the grav tilted a little as they shoved it out, then righted itself. Rem grabbed the tether to drag the platform, Aestra took the rear and they ushered their prize through passageways towards the kitchens and waiting servitors.

"There's probably nothing in there," Rem said, "They'll have explored it already and taken anything worth taking."

"But have you ever set foot in a Sith temple? I want to feel the place," Aestra insisted, "Be surrounded by all that history, all that power, and suffering and pain. Be inspired. And maybe it goes somewhere new that the Eternal and the scientists haven't reached."

"Maybe."

From around the corner ahead emerged Xate and Dziet, accompanied by two of the Council; members of the Sith Eternal that had escaped the invasion of Exegol and founded the colony. Now the Council governed it, and - rumor had it - cooperated closely with similar bodies on other outposts. They were the only inhabitants permitted any contact with external Darksiders.

The four were engaged in a debate. Dziet looked agitated, Xate wore his default scowl in silence and the Councilors were sandwiched between them. They both had the hoods of their robes back, revealing shaved heads that confirmed them as human - almost all the Eternal were - though one appeared unnaturally tall and slender for that species.

"... we need soldiers most of all. He could still have been useful." Dziet was angry, but keeping it in check, aware that the Councilors could effectively fire her or Xate.

"We need an acolyte if the Sith are to rise again." Xate countered. "And I will do whatever it takes to find one."

"You're a dreamer, Xate. I'm a pragmatist."

"You don't think big enough, Dziet."

"Please," the taller Councilor soothed, "We need soldiers and Inferna an acolyte. Our position is precarious. Only with both can the colony and Sith survive to bring about the Era." His attention turned to the approaching Gnort and its attendants, which occupied most of the width of the corridor, and his expression brightened on seeing Aestra. "Ah, there she is. Well done, young Aestra."

Aestra hesitated for a moment as the realization dawned that he was referring to the duel and not the beast next to her. "Thank you," she replied.

"A promising student, I hear," the Councilor's gaze was fixed on her as he walked around the grav-lift and approached, stopping uncomfortably close, looming over her.

"Indeed. But Tor is still our strongest," Xate said, looking Aestra in the eye. Was this a test also, watching her reaction? She stared back. Xate may well believe Tor to be stronger and better suited to ascension, but she would show him how wrong he was.

The Councilor's eyes roamed over Aestra as he addressed Xate, "So will our acolytes be ready to assist the upcoming mission?"

"Of course. You can count on our support," the Dathomirian replied.

"Excellent. Be warned: the time may be sooner than anticipated, and when it arrives, we will need to move quickly."

"Councilor," Xate nodded in deference.

"Indeed," Dziet nodded also, "our need for Force sensitives is even greater today than yesterday."

Xate sighed loudly. The Councilor smiled, and Aestra detected an opportunity to make herself heard.

"I'll be honored to assist in whatever way I can, Your Honour," Aestra inclined her head.

"Your devotion to the cause is inspiring," he bent closer, put one hand on her shoulder and squeezed, "And I anticipate that my colleagues and I will make use of your service."

She could feel the bones of his elongated fingers pressing into the muscles of her shoulder, his thumb on her collarbone and the warmth of his breath. It smelled of something vaguely chemical and unpleasant, but fucked if she was going to shrink away. She kept her eyes on his and didn't move. Close up, he looked younger than his gauntness and movements had led her to assume. Though deeply lined, his skin was unblemished, and his eyes a clear blue. But then his lips parted, and his smile told a story of years and hardship, and a body neglected in pursuit of a dream that had died a horrible death.

"I think I'll be seeing a lot more of you, young Aestra," he murmured, his thumb stroking a path across her collarbone, lingering a moment before he lifted his hand and stepped away to continue down the corridor. She felt a mild satisfaction at not flinching. Xate and Dziet moved with him, glancing at her as they passed.

Aestra and Rem resumed guiding the Gnort through the passageway, and remained silent until they'd rounded the corner, and the other group was some distance away.

"Eeeeww," Aestra grimaced. "'Seeing a lot more of you'. What the fuck did that mean?"

"I don't even want to speculate," Rem looked nauseous and waved a hand, "Those Eternal guys are so fucking creepy. You should watch out."

"There are disadvantages to being really fucking hot," she sighed and shook her head.

"Right." Rem said dubiously, "But what was all that about assisting on missions?"

"Sounds exciting. Better than skulking around in this hole."

"You won't be saying that if you run into any Jedi," Rem said, "Those guys are killers."

"I live for the chance to kill Jedi. Literally live for it."

She pushed the great beast down the corridor. Things were looking up.

Chapter Text

"Look at her," Teela muttered, leaning on the balustrade. "I thought we were supposed to keep a low profile outside Orrea. She looks like she just escaped from 'Master of Hearts'."

In the courtyard below, Osin-Ree struck a pose, leaning against the small, open-top skiff that would take them into Teren, a larger coastal town about twenty minutes flight away. The last glow of sunset was retreating as her tiny 'cam flitted between preset positions, catching her best angles as she shifted between poses. The circular, open space was ringed by lights that created an even, flattering illumination that would no doubt add a sprinkle of glam to the start of her story, which Trin expected would be titled 'Padawan together on a well-deserved break' or something similar.

Trin watched the Twi'lek lean back, letting her lekku hang free to display the gold wire and thin silk ribbons that wound around them. Gold was the thing for lekku, this year. Osin affected a slightly amused expression, parting her lips slightly and adjusting the outfit to better display a physique honed by gym and diet. This evening she'd gone Jedi-chic, in white and cream wrappings, tight and sparse enough to attract attention and satisfy the less conservative of her billions of followers. Osin-Ree was the de-facto face of the Academy, as far as the public was concerned.

"There is no way she had that made here," Trin said in awe.

"A sponsor," Teela scowled, "Or an admirer."

Trin shrugged. Osin-Ree loved the attention, yes, and she suspected that the Masters did not approve, but she also wasn't sure that it was breaking any Jedi principles. Let her have her fun. She was a talented student and good company on a night out like this. She suspected Teela's disapproval was due more to the Twi'lek's recent interest in Jerik than anything else.

"You're right though," Trin said, "It is very Cerilia."

Cerilia was a human female Jedi on "Master of Hearts", a wildly popular holo about a group of High Republic era Jedi who were devastatingly attractive, fabulously skilled in Force and saber, but endlessly tormented by passionate, forbidden love affairs, with each other and whoever inhabited the world they happened to be righting wrongs on in that particular episode. Cerilia was infamous for appearing to wear nothing under the skimpiest Jedi robes that had never existed, that flowed and billowed and barely covered her during the many saber battle scenes.

"At least you've kept it..." Teela looked Trin up and down before concluding, "...sensible."

Trin had gone for comfort rather than style, with her usual loose, layered top and pants, shimmering blues and violets. It was a relief to remove the Padawan uniform and dress free and easy in the evening; the Jedi style always felt constrictive, though she appreciated that might be purely psychological.

"I'm color coordinated," Trin protested, "That's making an effort, right?" There had just been time to apply streaks of shimmering purple to her hair and around her eyes that complimented the outfit. Her blonde hair took color well, and she'd been very pleased with the effect. Teela wasn't?

"Right," Teela said dubiously. Take that as a 'no' then.

"Come on, less get down there," the Mirialan slurred and produced a small leather-bound bottle, flipped open the top and took a swig, grimaced.

"You're smashed already?" Trin asked. They all enjoyed their nights out in Teren, but Teela hit the alcohol harder than the rest of them. If Trin had asked the other students or masters their opinion of Teela, she knew the responses would be mostly along the lines of 'hard', 'prickly' or 'tough'. Her sharp edges made sure of that, but lately Trin had found herself wondering about what they concealed.

"And I thought my mother was five thousand fucking light years away." Teela closed the top.

"I'm so disappointed in you," Trin shook her head, "Can I have some?"

"Please. Save me. It's disgusting." Teela offered the bottle.

Trin sipped, the acrid liquid burning her throat on the way down. "Ugh. Love that local moonshine. Seriously, why bother? You'll have a merenzane or wine in your hand soon."

"I'm banking on it." Teela swung between extremes; at the academy her discipline was exemplary, but when she let it go... she had more self-control to lose than the rest of them, so it made a bigger splash when it hit the water, or the wine.

"Force sakes," Trin rolled her eyes, "So I'm going to have to carry you home again, after you've rabbited on for hours about Mr. 2187 and Skywalker and drunk the place dry."

"I'm banking on that too." Teela nudged into her and smiled, which was good to see, even if it never happened when she was sober. She'd opted for a dark, simple dress that left the lilac skin of her arms and legs exposed, and would have left Trin shivering, but Mirialans didn't feel the cold. She'd let her hair down tonight, physically as well as metaphorically, and the town lights played on the dark cascade that fell across her back and shoulders, creating bands of deep, iridescent purple that Trin found mesmerizing. She'd always be a little envious of Teela's hair. Was her own, artificially applied color an unconscious imitation?

Trin handed the bottle back. "You're lucky you've got me around."

"You're appreciated. Come on," Teela turned and wandered off down the curved path that led to the courtyard where the skiff and Osin-Ree waited. Trin followed and watched as Sarin arrived at the craft and exchanged words with the Twi'lek. They made quite the pair. Sarin was a tall, slender Kiffar, dark dreads framing a face marked with tattoos on jaw and cheek that signified an old, high-ranking clan. He'd left behind a life destined for leadership to embark on the Jedi path and his charisma made him a popular student. He was charming, but possessed an intensity that made Trin a little uncomfortable in his company, a sense of being consumed and a wariness of what might happen if she let his wave wash over her completely. His abilities with Force and saber were undeniable though, and he was the academy's most capable all-rounder.

With him was Per-Elle, a black skinned Togrutan (rare) and a relatively new addition to the academy. She nodded a greeting to Osin-Ree and smiled shyly in response to her reply. The girl was at the younger end of the age range for Tython academy, and was quiet and defensive, resisting attempts to engage her in conversation. Trin knew almost nothing about her, but maybe tonight was the night when she opened up a little. Teela strode ahead and greeted the group enthusiastically, and they smiled back in turn.

As Trin approached the skiff, Jerik came into view and waved a greeting. So that was all six of them, which would be a bit of a squeeze, but it was just a short flight down the valley to Teren. She watched the group exchange greetings and was struck, not for the first time, by how handsome each of them were, in their very individual ways. Trin felt distinctly average standing with them and was glad she'd made the color touches, to add something unconventional to her appearance.

Jerik looked her up and down, smiled and nodded approvingly. "Looking good."

He was dressed in a simple white, short sleeved top and light tan work pants, understated as ever. The pale shades struck a contrast with the deep tan of his skin, complementing it nicely, Trin thought. "Thanks. You look very... wholesome?"

"Wholesome..." Jerik murmured and made an act out of staring off into space and narrowing his eyes as he considered it carefully. "I'll take that."

"Can I upgrade that to 'classic'?," He deserved better than a semi-compliment. "I just had a glug of Teela's hooch, and my brain is already on vacation, or booking a flight at least."

"Teela's on the hull stripper again?" Jerik winced, "It's going to be a rough night."

"She doesn't have to worry about mornings. By eighth bell tomorrow it'll be as if she never touched a drop," Trin said, "I envy her metabolism, among other things."

"Mirialans," Jerik shrugged, "So what else do you envy her for?"

"Hmm. Let's see..." Trin gaze turned to Teela, who was chatting with Osin-Ree, leaning on the skiff with one hand, the other on her hip. She looked elegant in that dress. Poised and assured. For a moment, Trin saw through the years to the woman she would become. A Jedi. A force for good, respected across the Republic. If only she could see this in herself.

Before Trin could think of an answer that was suitably flattering to Teela without dipping too far into self-deprecation, Sarin clambered into the driver seat, took the controls and adjusted his seating position.

"Looks like we're off," she announced to Jerik.

They waited for Teela to climb into the back, then wedged themselves in: Jerik, then Trin and Per-Elle squeezed in last, half on top of Trin, but thankfully she was a skinny little thing. Osin-Ree was in the passenger seat, having presumably calculated that the imaging options were better from there.

"You kids all ready?" Sarin glanced over his shoulder, a grin scrunching up the tattoos on his cheeks. He had a few - but not many - years on the rest of them and never let them forget it.

"Punch it!" Teela thrust her arm out to point commandingly down the valley, resulting in Sarin's smile widening even further. Per-Elle let slip a girlish giggle. She smelled of something sweet and floral and a little overpowering. At least, Trin presumed it was the Twi'lek and not Jerik; it was hard to be sure, sandwiched as she was between them, but Jerik's scent choices were usually conventionally human and male, i.e. casual to the point of accidental.

The skiff rose smoothly, leaving Orrea in the shadows below them, and Trin leaned out of her seat to watch streetlights trace winding veins of gold through the Lanes. Was that her place? The divisions of the town were clear from above; the dark shadow of the market area, which would be silent now until early morning, the bright bustle of the food quarter and the sparsely lit private homes and restaurants of the ring, extending out in a speckled semi-circle from the mountain under them.

And above it all, the illuminated domes and banners of the temple, a benevolently imposing presence. From above, it was clear just how large it was and how little of it she had explored. Wouldn't it be marvelous, just once, to take classes in amongst all that history and tradition, to wield a saber in the same halls that had shaped so many Jedi before.

This thought provoked the sensation, yet again, of being torn, of being pulled in two distinct directions. A desire to use the Force for good, to perform an honorable duty and help make the Republic a better place for everyone, and a nagging doubt about what accompanied that life: the potential violence, the confinement of the Jedi path.

The skiff accelerated forward, and Trin watched Orrea retreat, reduced in a moment to a tiny shining island in an ocean of dusky green.

Chapter Text

What a day that had been.

Aestra lay on her thin, foam mattress and studied the ceiling panels above her. Then she turned onto one side to look out of the grimy window - it might have been centuries since the outside surface had been cleaned - that ran the length of her bed. A little diffuse moonlight lit the cavernous void of the shaft, but there wasn't anything going on out there at this time, or any time really. Still, it was a window and something to look at. Most of the colonists weren't so privileged. Her room was barely big enough for her to stand in the center, stretch her arms wide and make a full turn without touching anything, but at least she was out of dorms. Sith acolytes and dorms weren't a good mix.

She lay on her back again. Sleep wasn't coming any time soon.

Proving herself against Arun. That was a high point. Pat on the back for that, but how much did it mean if she wasn't directly competing against Tor? Maybe nothing. Maybe Xate was saving that showdown for when Inferna arrived. Was she ready for that match? She needed to create an opportunity to watch the big fucking wannabe fight tomorrow; she'd completely missed him today, whereas he'd had a grandstand view of her at work.

The weirdness when she'd touched that old artifact. That was absolutely nuts and an unwelcome complication. The vision of somewhere else, outside, on another world and the sense of... she didn't know. Of being seen, of something foreign in her mind, whispering. And then the sensation had come again, when she'd been on the surface.

She didn't need these distractions. They should be pushed to the back of her mind, for her to hope it was a one - or two - off, and now she was away from that thing it wouldn't be a problem.

Getting to the door again, now that was a highlight. The sketch she'd made was stuck to the wall, just a step away from her head. Now she had to make some excuse to get access to the musty old library and try to figure out the meaning of the glyphs. That shouldn't be a problem; for one thing it was on this very level of the facility, not hidden away like the artifacts. Worst came to worst, she could sneak in.

What would the symbols say? Aestra closed her eyes and imagined the temple below her, its chambers and passages spreading through the crust of the planet, like veins and organs carrying a brooding dark essence. If she lay in bed and focused on the Force, she sometimes felt that she could feel its power beneath her, distant and dormant, like a massive, powerful predator dozing, not sleeping.

She took a breath and reached out, feeling for the impression it made in the Force-

-a rush of noise and sound. Voices surrounding her.

Half-lit room, warm, a glass in her hand and an unfamiliar taste in her mouth.

Her eyes widened and she felt a smile retreat from her lips.

She was looking at a dark skinned young man, black curly hair. He was wearing a white top and regarded her quizzically while a pale pink Mirialan girl with long dark hair sat next to him and similarly watched her with a frown.

"You ok?" the man asked. The Mirialan cocked her head to one side and gave her a curious look.

"I don't..." words came from her mouth, but not her words, because she had formed none, had not tried to move these lips. Someone had moved them for her, some other mind had wanted to speak those words. Not hers.

There was an abrupt, dizzying shift in her point of view as her head moved to look around, disorienting in its unexpectedness. She was in a socializing place of some sort, full of groups of people talking and laughing. A dark Kiffar sat just a meter away, watching her with an amused expression.

Watching her, but not watching her. He was looking at the body she was in. Which was someone else.

Who am I? Aestra thought.

Her eyes snapped open to see metal ceiling panels.

Chapter Text

Trin looked around again. Nobody there, just the hum of the bar behind her; Chelli's was busy for a weekday night.

"Who am I?" She'd heard it, she was sure. It wasn't imagined. It was a real voice, but it had sounded as if someone had said it right in her ear, in her head. And it had been accompanied by the same sensation she'd felt at the shrine after she'd had the vision: a presence like a breath, so close, so intimate as to be part of her.

"Teela to Trin. You in there?" Teela was frowning.

Get it together girl. Don't look freaked out.

"Yeah, yeah. Sure. Just... thought I heard someone call me."

Teela scanned the bar. "Don't think so." She turned back to Jerik, who Trin realized was still watching her. Was that concern on his face, or doubt? They were a team now. There were possible futures where he and Teela found their lives in her hands, dependent on her abilities. She couldn't afford to look flaky; it wouldn't be cute anymore. It would be scary.

"A bit strong for you?" Sarin smiled, nodding at the half-full glass of Merenzane in Trin's hand.

Trin threw back the remains of the drink. A little too rash; it caught the back of her throat and forced a cough. "Nope. In fact, I think I need another."

Sarin raised an eyebrow but remained amused, "Merenzane isn't cheap. It's to be savored, you know." He swirled his own drink around the ice in his glass and took a sip, then raised a hand to get the attention of a nearby female attendant and mouthed: "One more."

It wasn't hard for Sarin to get service; the girl had probably had half an eye on him anyway.

He possessed a magnetism that drew admiring glances and held attention in gatherings. Partly this was physical; he was tall, his neatly tied and decorated dreads were eye-catching, and his face was home to an easy smile, but it was also due to a calm self-assurance that marked him out as someone of note, not to be taken lightly. Trin could easily imagine him as the clan chief that he would have been, had he not decided to take the Jedi path. He seemed every inch the leader-to-be.

She'd only known him a few months, but enjoyed catching him in small doses, in social gatherings, when he genuinely appeared to be interested in everything she had to say. To be the focus of his attention was to bask in the sun for a while, to be made to feel special and valued. But Sarin had this effect on everyone, she knew.

He could get a bit much though. A little too intense. On occasion, Trin had found herself pulling away from conversations and feeling disappointed afterwards, frustrated at a lack of confidence that left her unable to commit to... what exactly? What was she afraid of?

"What's on your mind Trin?" he asked, "Tough day?"

She exhaled. "Honestly, I don't know what kind of a day it's been. A strange one, for sure."

"Really? Want to talk about it?"

Did she? Yes, of course, but 'it' sounded too crazy, too wild. "I'm sorry, I'm going to have to go all mysterious."

"Too bad for you. I love a mystery." He leaned closer, "I don't stop till its secrets are mine."

Flirty as ever. There had been a couple of times recently when she could almost believe he was genuinely interested in her, in that way. Trin affected a pained look.

"I'm messing with you," he laughed, "Your secrets are safe. It's demanding for all of us, in different ways, the Academy. Nobody said this path would be easy."

He sighed and took another sip, and Trin wondered what the bumps on his path were, the twists and turns he had to navigate. The Clans of Kiffex were a deeply traditional society, and giving up the Chieftainship to come here must have been met with resistance. Did he ever wonder if the trade was worth it?

Trin's new glass arrived, and she raised it. "To the path, and choosing the right one."

"To the paths we choose." His eyes glinted mischievously.

"Do you miss Kiffex?" she asked.

Sarin rolled his eyes and looked disgusted.

"Kiffu! Sorry. I'll remember one of these days."

"I've killed men for less," he said and Trin winced, wondering if that were true. Kiffu and Kiffex were sister planets, both home to the Kiffar species, but Kiffu was more developed than the wild, lawless Kiffex.

"Miss it?" he continued, "Sure. The people the most, of course, but the desert as well."

"Really? Tython's gorgeous."

"There's beauty in the desert also. She just doesn't flaunt it. It has to be sought out. You have to care enough to look for it and appreciate it when you find it." He held her gaze, "Some people are like that as well."

My stars, he was flirting with her. Wasn't he? Trin's mind spun for a second. Why would he be flirting with her? She'd always regarded him as in a different league as far as physical attractiveness was concerned, but had this just been her naivety? It was never that simple when it came to attraction. She had half expected Sarin and Osin-Ree to strike up a relationship, but that had been based almost entirely on her own biases, a simple expectation of the two most beautiful members of the class pairing off. It had never happened, the two being friendly, but never closing the distance between them. What had he seen in her, if she was reading this right? So much to learn about Sarin, and all of the students, and herself.

"Maybe that's why you love a mystery," Trin said, "Uncovering the hidden is in your blood."

Sarin grinned and raised his glass again. "To mysteries. To diving deep into them, and swimming in their secrets."

He was flirting. He was always friendly, but this was different, fishing for a closeness, inviting her in. It was a surprise, but a pleasant one and flattering - that hair coloring must really be working for her. How should she respond? The warm rush of appreciation, the weirdness of the day and the thought that she might not be on Tython for much longer - and the merenzane, if she were being honest - reacted together in a heady brew, stronger than the alcohol. She could feel it drawing her in. Don't back away tonight. Go further. Let your guard down. You're among friends. What's the worst that could happen? Go on, fuck it. Not literally, but you know...

And then that familiar anxiety awakening as if it had never really left, a sense of wrongness that pulled her back, inhibited her from letting go.

She straightened up and clinked her glass against his, "To discovery, and exploring the unknown. But respecting those secrets where appropriate."

"Killjoy," he pouted, "I prefer the discovery, diving, part of the metaphor."

"As long as it doesn't become an invasion."

He nodded, "I'll be mindful of that."

Jerik turned and interjected, provoking a twinge of relief tainted with regret at the Kiffar's attention being drawn away. "Can you settle something for us?" Jerik said, "Rey Skywalker: hero or villain?"

"I never said villain," Teela leaned in to join them. Her hair, well, Trin still thought it looked fabulous and would willingly trade for a month, but it appeared to be even more drunk than the rest of her, strands spilling over one eye. "That's a bit strong even for me."

"Hero, of course," Trin said, "She saved the galaxy." She and Teela would never see eye to eye on this.

"It was a team effort," Sarin corrected, no doubt remembering the many Kiffar dead in the battle with the Final Order, "And the fight didn't stop after Exegol."

"Exactly. Thank you," Teela almost lost her drink to a vigorous gesture, "Where the fuck is she now? Disappeared for years, off on some mystical quest to resurrect her dead fucking darksider boyfriend."

"I think it's incredibly romantic," Trin sighed, anticipating Jerik and Teela's groans. "Roaming the Unknown Regions in search of the Tantalus artifacts. Alone in that old ship, just his ghost and droids for company. Romantic and tragic." She sipped the merenzane.

"If she'd just opened her eyes," Teela declared to all, "She had a better man right in front of her."

"Here we go..." Jerik looked to the stars.

"Did you ever read 'All the gold in Canto, all the salt in Crait'? Fucking heartbreaking. She didn't deserve him."

"We could certainly use her right now," Sarin attempted to bring the conversation back down to sea level, "She's the only living being - if she's still alive - that's actually been taught by a Jedi master. Two masters."

"Luke barely counts," scoffed Teela.

"It all counts," said Trin, "We should be eternally grateful that she saved us once. Surely that's enough. She's under no obligation to do it again."

"The new Republic needs to stand on its own two feet," Jerik agreed.

"Hear-hear," Osin-Ree had broken off from talking to a fan/admirer to join the conversation, "It's down to us. We are the future."

Per-Elle spoke up "If I'm going into battle against Darksiders, I'd really want Rey by my side." She smiled, "Or even better, in front of me."

"Damn right," Sarin agreed.

"Am I the only one worried about how the studies are changing to be more and more about combat?" she glanced around, searching their faces, "And did you hear Fahn mention fighting with Darksiders this morning?" The Togrutan wrapped skinny arms around herself, black skin shining.

"I don't think anyone missed that," Jerik replied.

"I told you about Atrisia," Osin-Ree poked a finger at Jerik, "All those tutors disappearing suddenly."

"You did, but we don't know what that was all about."

"Well," Osin leaned in a little and lowered her voice, "I was told that one of them never came back, so you draw your own conclusions."

"Seriously? Shit," Jerik frowned.

"Fucking Darksiders," Teela took a drink, "They're coming for us."

Trin's stomach gave an anxious turn at hearing the bitterness in her friend's voice, "We don't know that. And we don't know why some master left Atrisia."

"Only because they don't tell us anything."

"The Dark Side never disappears," Sarin looked to each of them in turn, "We have to assume it's out there, biding its time, growing in strength. We have to be ready."

"Right," Jerik agreed, "Did we really think they were gone after Exegol? We all know what being a Jedi involves." Typically practical Jerik; he seemed to have accepted that side of the path a long time ago and couldn't understand why everyone else was only now coming to terms with a reality that required them to weigh taking lives against losing their own.

He caught Trin's eye and didn't break away. Neither did she. Did he know she was having doubts? Was it that clear from the outside?

"I know," Per-Elle said, "But it's one thing to see it on holos, another to..." she hesitated before forcing the words out, "... to face the fact that you're really going to have to fight for your life against some monster that wants nothing more than to kill you. Or worse."

Trin couldn't find any comforting words. Neither could anyone else.

"It's starting to keep me up at nights," the Togrutan's voice tailed off, almost lost in the chatter of the bar. Trin wondered how young she was. They couldn't really be considering asking her to battle bloodthirsty darksiders. Could they?

"See you bright and early in saber classes tomorrow then," said Osin-Ree cheerfully.

"Gods and stars, do you take anything seriously?" Jerik rolled his eyes, exasperated.

"Yeah: my kudo and karma counts," Osin-Ree smiled back and held out a hand for her cam to land softly on her palm, "Some good shots there before it got all downer, 'Discussing our adventures on the Jedi path with my fellow Padawan', should do it, I think. Anyone want to be painted out? Altered? Trin, those highlights look great. Very ethereal. Fits your image."

"I..." Trin started.

"Please don't say we need to be training under a Jedi Knight or Master to be correctly called Padawans," Jerik said.

"I was about to ask what my image was. I have an image?"

"You've been in the background of a few posts, and my followers have taken note and decided:" Osin-Ree announced, "nice, wholesome, girl-next-door."

"Wholesome," Trin said, narrowing her eyes to consider this and looking at Jerik, who returned her gaze and grinned. "I'll take that."

Chapter Text

Aestra was more awake than ever, staring at the panels above her bed, heart pounding.

Twice she'd had a vision, seeing through someone else's eyes. So this wasn't over, even though she was nowhere near that artifact. It had done something permanent to her. Something she couldn't control. Fuck.

First time she'd had a vision of a cold outdoor place. Second time she'd experienced somewhere indoors, surrounded by people. Both times trapped in a body she could not control. The same body, or different? Those were two very different situations, so was she jumping into random viewpoints, somehow?

And the weird sensation she'd had twice, of something being in her head. Was that the same process in reverse: someone seeing through her?

Could she stop it? And what did it have to do with the Force?

This couldn't be good news. She didn't know just how bad it was yet, and didn't particularly want to find out, but it couldn't be good.

She turned onto her side, facing the window, and studied shadows in the void beyond.

—

Cobbled streets + alcohol + Mirialan in heels = falling-down issues. So, arm through Teela's and hang on tight.

"Why did you even wear these?" Trin sighed.

"To make my legs look longer," Teela stated matter-of-factly, tottering along.

"Why bother?" Trin tutted, "If I had your legs, I'd never wear pants again."

"Ever seen a Jedi in shorts? I think it's against the code. But thank you for not saying I have Mirialan legs." It was a common misconception that all Mirialans had excellent muscle tone, but Trin knew Teela's legs were largely the result of hours running up and down steep forest trails.

"How could I ever stereotype you, Ms. Unconventional."

"Good girl," Teela patted Trin's arm.

"Trying to impress anyone in particular?"

Teela just pouted and emitted a soft grunt as they continued their slow walk through the narrow twisting alleys of The Lanes. Smooth white walls were interrupted at regular intervals by small windows and colorful entrances, but the apartments were dark and silent at this late hour, the way lit by small lamps set into walls and ground. At Orrea's altitude, the temperature dropped quite dramatically at night and Trin was glad she'd covered up. She hugged the other girl a bit closer and rubbed her bare arm, though she knew she hardly felt the cold.

"You and Sarin were getting cozy," Teela ventured.

"Yeah. Not sure what to do with that."

"I know what I'd do with that, and he's not even my type."

"Excuse me?" Trin huffed, "Attachments?"

"I'm not saying you should get attached to him, just fuck him."

"Miss Teela Venzee!" Trin protested while Teela enjoyed a filthy chuckle.

Trin thought for a moment. "I'm reminded of those lessons on Coping with the Dark Side. You are my Inner Voice of Darkness leading me astray."

"Cheers." Teela sounded disgusted, "But why not?"

Why not indeed? He made her feel special. She enjoyed his company in small doses, so why not take it further? What was holding her back? "Ah... I don't know," Trin exhaled into the chill night air, "I just... I don't know."

"Typical Trin. Life gives her everything on a platter and she doesn't know what to do with it."

Trin growled but stopped short of refuting this. She knew there was a perception among some students that she had an easy ride through life, buoyed up by luck, innate talent and her family's connections, and that irritated her - it ignored all her efforts to get here, the never-ending struggle to match her parents' expectations. But she'd had a more privileged life than Teela, it was true, and to highlight her own trials now would be to make light of the other girl's, which dwarfed hers. Best to bite her tongue and not go there.

"If he likes me in that way, that's not luck."

"Well it's not the product of hard work," Teela looked her up and down.

"Ex-cuse me," Trin exclaimed, a bit too loudly for the hour.

"I'm teasing. You're gorgeous," Teela smirked and pulled Trin in a bit tighter, almost losing her footing, "He's obviously a man of great taste."

"That's better."

"And if you fuck him, that leaves Jerik for me."

"Is it even worth mentioning Attachments at this point?" Trin rolled her eyes, "But what do you mean? You've got Jerik."

"Have I? I don't know." Teela said wistfully, and they continued their winding path in silence, past colorfully painted doors, through softly lit alleys until they arrived at her apartment.

"There you are," Trin said, "I've got you back home safe and sound. Again."

She tried to remove her arm from the other girl's, but Teela didn't oblige. Instead, she held her fast and turned to look into Trin's eyes, her own suddenly anxious and urgent.

"We should take these chances, Trin. Take them now."

All light and playfulness had left her in a moment, expelled in a single breath into the dark of the night. Trin felt a change in gravity had rooted her to the spot, unable to respond.

Teela didn't take her eyes from her. "We don't know if we'll get any more."

"Teela, are you ok?"

With a visible effort, the Mirialan composed herself, "Sure. Fine." She sucked in a breath and freed her arm from Trin's.

"You don't seem fine. Do you want to go in and talk about it?"

"No. I'm ok. Just drunk. You know how I get," she looked away and backed off a couple more steps, "I'll see you in class tomorrow, ok?"

Should she push it, Trin wondered? Insist on going in, brewing a tea and talking it over, like they used to when they first arrived at the Academy together? They'd leaned on each other back then, when life had been full of big, scary steps into a world that threatened to overwhelm them. But it had been a good scary, a fear of not being a match for the challenges ahead balanced with the thrill of anticipating adventures to come. It had brought them close, forged a friendship that had lasted. Not the kind of scary that woke them at nights, fearful that there may not be a future, that their path, which should have arrowed forwards, dazzlingly bright, might be twisting astray somehow, leading them into shadows, to end suddenly and finally in a dark place, at the end of a saber.

Teela turned away, to place a fingertip on a scanner set into the door. The lock disengaged and the door swung open.

"I'm always here, Teela," Trin said, "Just a few steps away."

"I know." She hesitated and half turned before continuing into the darkened quarters, leaving Trin alone in the night.

Chapter Text

Who are you?

In the silence, in the dark nook at the rear of her quarters, lying fully clothed and wide eyed on her bed, Trin kept returning to those words. Now the bustle and noise of the night was gone, she couldn't push them out of her mind. She'd heard them - really, actually heard them, as if they were in her head. And she'd felt something, a sensation at once familiar and foreign. A closeness with someone unseen.

The image of the silver haired young man and the blasted, black landscape returned to her mind's eye.

The voice had to be connected to the vision. Was it his? It had sounded female though.

Two visions, both times when she had reached out with the Force to make contact with places beyond the ones she could see and touch. Was this going to happen every time she used the Force in that way? That was a scary thought.

She needed to know: were the visions under her control? And where was the place she was being taken? Whose eyes was she seeing through and were they also the voice in her head?

She lay still on her bed, and let the Force in, felt it within her, in the room around her, and beyond-

-She was lying on her side, head propped up on one elbow. The bed below her was hard, but her body was used to it. A few inches away was a large window and outside of that, a void, dark and vast, a starless space filled with shadows and a ghostly light from above that caught the edges of hulking machinery.

Oh god and stars. Again.

Trin heard her words, her voice, made with a thought instead of lips and mouth.

Her body was thrown bolt upright and she could feel her heart - the heart in the body she inhabited - pounding.

"The fuck?" her mouth hissed, and there was a sudden, disorienting rush of unfamiliar surroundings through her vision, leaving her looking at a tiny room, dimly lit by a small light source set into the wall.

Where am I?

Her hand made a gesture and a ceiling light snapped on. The room was utilitarian to the extreme, seemingly constructed from one piece of glazed and polished ferrocrete, with a door of plain unpainted metal. There was a mirror on one wall and some paper stuck to the other. Was it a prison?

She - the body she inhabited but had no control over - jumped out of the bed to stand in the middle of the floor. It turned, and she found herself looking at an unfamiliar figure in the mirror.

A girl in black underwear, tall and skinny, ivory skin taut over tensed, stringy muscles. Fierce dark eyes stared out from a pale face framed by tangled black hair.

"Go away," the girl hissed, her voice dripping in fear or fury or both.

- And Trin was back in her room, lying on the bed. Senses and mind still reeling.

—

Aestra paced the room, which in practice meant turning in tight circles, which made her feel doubly trapped; physically in this tiny room and mentally trapped in this bizarre, fucked up situation that in the space of a single day had gotten completely out of control.

She stopped circling.

She had to make contact again. Find out who the fuck this was, whether they had any idea what was going on, how to stop it, who they were. Anything. She needed to get on top of this and know more instead of sitting back and waiting for it to happen again.

She sat on the side of the bed, took a breath and tried to calm herself. That felt like it might take until morning, so she just went for it, still fizzing; she drew the Force into herself, sensed it within and around her, reached out to the world above her and the creatures that walked its surface-

- Lying in semi-darkness on a bed. A bed that was much larger and softer than hers. The white stone walls and ceiling of the room were close, surrounding her in a tight, intimate space. To her left was an arch, leading to a larger, better lit room.

The body she was in sat up abruptly.

"Are you there?" the words came from her mouth, loud and unexpected, reverberating around the rooms.

I'm here.

A lack of mouth and vocal cords didn't seem to get in the way of her thinking the words aloud.

Was that you just now?

"Yes, that was me. Are you the girl with black hair? I saw you in the mirror."

Right. So, earlier, you were in a bar? With a human guy, Mirialan girl?

"Yes! I knew it. I heard you. How long were you with me?"

Just seconds. Both times it's only been seconds. I saw through your eyes - I was in you - when you were outside, and there were mountains. That was hours ago. Then in the bar.

"It's been three times for me. You were in a room and there were things on shelves. Then you were on the surface of a planet, and there was a guy with silver hair. And just now, in your room."

What the fuck is going on?

"I wish I knew." Whoever this was, she sounded like Aestra felt: a mix of excited, confused and scared.

Where are you?

"Tython. You?"

She should be cautious; the colony survived on secrecy.

A long way from you. An old mining colony on the outer rim.

Work some truth into the lie. That would match almost everything the girl might see, unless she caught her with a lightsaber, or saw Xate, or that walking cliche Tor. Good job she'd taken down her Anakin poster.

What's your name?

"Trin. What's yours?"

Her first impulse was to lie, but why bother?

Aestra.

-And she was back in her room, lying in her bed.

Aestra stared up at the ceiling panels, wide eyed, mind racing. The situation felt dangerous; it was out of her control. The girl might suddenly be with her, seeing through her eyes, at any time, which meant there was a risk to the colony. And she was on Tython of all places; the world had a strong Jedi history. Maybe the girl knew Jedi, or would go running to them if she saw any evidence of darksiders.

She groaned and held her head in her hands. Not the kind of complication she needed ever, and particularly not right now, when Inferna's visit and the last moves in the campaign for ascension were imminent.

But, what did Bane say? "Honor is a fool's prize." Not that, the other thing: "The strong never stop seeking victory." Or something like that. There were risks, but also opportunities. Maybe she could nose around and see what the Jedi were doing on Tython via this girl, Trin. If she played it right, perhaps she could get some valuable intelligence.

Plus, the brief glimpses she'd had of life on Tython looked... pretty cool. She'd lived her life in a series of shit holes of one kind or another, so the idea of experiencing someplace less shit was quite appealing. That bed had been really damn soft. That bar and those people had been straight out of holos - not the grim ones about nightsisters and Korriban anchorites, but the silly, frothy ones about glam young things living it up in the Core.

Enough! She was Sith, or would be soon, and cared not for the kind of decadent pampering that such weaklings needed to live.

Bet her dinners were incredible though.

Aestra waved off the light and lay down, though she knew that sleep wasn't going to come for some time. Risks and opportunities around every corner. Life had just gotten a bit more complicated.

—

Trin lay awake on her bed. What did this mean? Why had the Force joined the two of them? She wanted to know more about this strange girl with furious eyes.

Chapter Text

Aestra was in the red room again.

Dark ceiling, black floor. Silhouetted figures surrounded her, standing at a respectful distance. She looked down at herself to see a body wrapped in complete and total shadow. Everything was painted in featureless black except for the red curtain that encircled the entire room in one unbroken arc. It glowed, illuminated from behind, but cast no light, shifting gently in a breeze that died before it reached her.

It always appeared this way to her.

Red and black. It was so fitting, so very Sith that she almost smiled. Almost. She kept it down because the figures watched her expectantly. Even though they were featureless dark shapes, she knew their eyes were on her, all of them. They worshiped her. She stood unmoving, basking in their devotion, made powerful by their subservience.

Music swelled to fill the chamber. The curtain billowed.

"Feel your hate..." urged a familiar voice.

Synapses struggled into life and realization emerged from the fog of sleep; she was lying on her back, in her bed. Aestra rolled to one side and through closed eyes sensed the dreary light of morning filtering into the room.

"Rejoice in the power of the Dark Side..."

The grandiose tones of the last Sith Emperor: Darth Sidious, Sheev Palpatine, accompanied by a Sith Hymn of Despair, resonated from the tab by the side of her bed.

The alarm. Was it that time already? It felt like she'd hardly slept.

"Arise, my apprentice and embrace your potential..."

What had possessed her to change from "Lava flows on Mustafar"? Sidious was supposed to be an inspirational start to the day - he was a very popular alarm tone around the Academy - but it just made her think of Exegol.

"Stop", she said, and the space became mercifully silent.

Time to get moving. Time for breakfast, the most important meal of the day.

—

Aestra looked at the metal tray of algae and minced bugs. She looked at Pola, the servitor doing canteen duty this morning, who was standing behind it with arms crossed, and curled a lip at her.

"Eat up," Pola said, "You look like you need it."

"You're not supposed to talk to us."

Pola's eyes flicked around the canteen, which had been designed to feed hundreds of workers and engineers at a time and was therefore massively oversized for the sprinkle of acolytes, masters and servitors that sat in it now. Aestra knew she was checking for unwelcome attention before continuing the morning's chit-chat. "Worried I'll contaminate you with niceness?"

"Weakness."

"Whatever."

"This again?" Aestra nodded at the green goo.

She could have sworn that Pola's mass of tight dark curls expanded a little as she bristled and wiped her hands on her apron.

"We do the best we can," she stated matter-of-factly, "Everything's worn out. The seeds are all 6th gen now. Only one HP unit is working. You're an acolyte, so have a word with the Eternal and get it fixed."

"I wish." Aestra spooned the crunchy yet gloopy mix into the bowl on her tray. "They're too busy figuring out new ways to fuck us up."

At that very moment, she noticed H-Ren walking into the canteen, shoulders hunched, eyes darting around the diners. Nobody had seen the Chiss since they'd been led away by the Eternal scientist yesterday.

"Speaking of which," Aestra took her tray to go but was brought up short by Pola's sharp whisper: "Any holos tonight?"

"Nah. Soon," Aestra whispered back, "I'll let you know."

Pola groaned, "I need me some Cerilia."

"Fuck, you guys are pathetic," Aestra rolled her eyes and set off on a course that would take her past H-Ren en-route to Rem, who was already sat down, prodding his breakfast cautiously. H-Ren had collected their tray and was gripping it with both hands, staring at it, fixed to the spot. Odd behavior, but they were Chiss, so...

"Hey," she said quietly when she was close enough, "They didn't chop you up for parts then."

H-ren wrenched their gaze from the tray to Aestra's face, red eyes burning with murder. The scraping grind of tooth against tooth reached her ears from a jaw clenched so hard the joint bulged from the side of his head. Dark blue lips curled, mouth twisted as if straining to contain an alien violence within, one that threatened to wrench their jaws apart, escape their body and strangle Aestra where she stood.

"Right..." said Aestra uncertainly, "I'll catch you around then." She tried to remember if Chiss were naturally not morning people as she headed for a seat beside Rem. Maybe they just served really strong coffee down in the labs.

"I can put up with this shit," she said as she took her seat, "Knowing we'll be feasting on that Gnort this evening."

"Ha fucking ha," sighed Rem. "The only bright side is: If we're eating this, can you imagine what the servitors get?"

"True," Aestra looked at Pola, who was still serving and scowling. "Although Pola looks good on it." She frowned. Pola was a head shorter than Aestra, but looked as if she easily outweighed her. An equally healthy-looking servitor went to her side and took over duties.

Rem followed her gaze and shook his head, "Even the servitors screw us over." He took another spoonful of algrunch.

"H-Ren is back," Aestra said, "I just tried to talk to them. They looked like they wanted to gut me, and shit on my remains, right here, right now."

Rem shrugged, "This is Sith Academy. Most of the students want to kill you."

Aestra looked up from her breakfast to see Tor a few tables away, his bloodshot orbs boring holes in her. He growled. On the table to his left was Nozon. The Bith's huge iris-less black orbs meant she couldn't be sure where he was looking, but he abruptly stabbed a bony finger at her then drew it across his throat.

"Point taken," Aestra sighed.

"This is so fucking stupid," she swirled the breakfast, "Why can't we save it for the Lightsiders? They'd laugh if they could see us. No wonder we're hiding in a hole in some rock at the shit end of the galaxy while they're partying it up on Tython."

"I mean..." she glanced sideways at Rem. "That's what I've been told."

Rem laid his spoon down, steepled his fingers and declared solemnly, "Such is the Way of the Sith."

"Such is the Way of the Sith," Aestra echoed reluctantly. She'd walked into that one.

Chapter Text

She had to find Teela, before it was too late.

Trin stumbled along the alleys of the Lanes, the slick, uneven cobbles making it difficult to keep her footing. The night sky was full of stars and her way was lit by the glow from small windows and hanging lamps above doors.

There wasn't any time left. She quickened her pace.

The path became narrower. Windows and doors rushed past, close enough for her to see the faces of the occupants; vague, expressionless masks behind glass.

She could sense her nearby, but the white walls continued to close in, tighter, and she reached out to brush the rough stone surface with her fingertips, as if doing so might hold it back.

Which way? The path forked and merged every few steps as she rushed around corner after corner, winding in on itself to defy the laws of space.

The walls scraped her shoulders and sealed off the sky, but she pressed on, faster. The indistinct staring faces framed in tiny windows were so close she could feel their breath as they brushed past.

She would never find her. She was too late, too slow.

And there she was.

The alley extended out on a long straight path, and she stood at the far end in the shadows, her back to Trin, still wearing that dress, shimmering dark hair falling in a purple cascade to her waist.

Trin instinctively broke into a run, but stumbled, losing her balance on the huge cobblestones, her feet falling into the spaces between or catching the peaks. She couldn't stop now though.

As her scrambling steps carried her closer, she became aware that Teela was crying, her body wracked by huge, silent sobs.

She had to reach her, tell her it would be ok, that whatever she was going through, however bad it was, they could work it out because she would always be there for her, they would always stay together, no matter what.

And then - thank the Stars and the Force - Teela was right there in front of her, at last. Trin wrapped her arms around the girl to hold her close, but they met no resistance, gathered nothing solid in her grasp, just wisps of thin fabric that slipped through scrabbling fingers to fall to the stones at her feet and disappear like water into the gaps.

Teela was gone. But Trin knew she wasn't alone in the alley. Something was behind her. Something bad. She should never have come here, to a cramped, cut off, dead end far away from the lights of the more welcoming lanes. She was frozen to the spot, unable to move to see the thing behind her. It moved closer, right behind her, almost touching until its hot face was on her shoulder-

Her bed. Morning. Light flooded into the chamber from the archway and the small window above her head. Trin struggled out of sleep and into the day, slivers of images of Teela in tears, unreachable and a growing threat, clinging to her mind.

How did she feel? To the point: how hungover was she?

She rolled over onto her front, then onto one side. Stomach seemed fine.

Headache? No, but early days.

The taste of Merenzane gone bad hung around in her mouth, a charming date turned surly and dour in daylight, unwilling to leave.

Memories of the night before floated gently into range before turning into an overwhelming rush. Sarin: flirty and tempting. Teela: too drunk, disturbed about something, darksiders probably. And above all, the mystery teleportation/body swap experience with that tall, skinny, intense girl stuck in a mine.

Too much for one day. Way, way too much.

Today needed to be a smooth, downhill ride all the way to a nice, relaxing evening watching holos and an early night.

Trin got her feet on the cool flagstones and made her way carefully to the kitchenette.

Chapter Text

"Be still. Feel the breath rushing into you. Feel it leaving you as a bright, glowing vapor, carrying the light from your body, leaving only darkness and purity."

Master Dziet's voice was very calming. The Arkanian had a sing-song lilt that Aestra found comforting, even though this was her least favorite class. Meditation wasn't meant to be easy or comfortable though. Suffering was the point.

"The darkness fills you," Dziet's voice echoed around what Aestra guessed had once been an office area, whittled down by the centuries to a peeling, stained gray shell. She and the other acolytes sat cross legged on the concrete floor. Her backside was always freezing in Meditation; a challenge when it came to focus.

"And in the center of your body, sealed away so deep that only you can find it, is a glowing red core," Dziet continued, "It is hot. Very hot, but it doesn't burn you. It powers you."

"This is your hate core. Feel it burn within you. Feel its heat fill you."

Aestra knew what would come next, and felt a tension growing in her gut.

"Imagine it as a solid object within you. Imagine its shape, the texture of its surface, its weight."

"Now look inside," whispered Dziet.

She really didn't want to go there. But she knew she must.

"Inside is the hate that powers you, that makes you strong and connects you with the Force and the Dark Side. It is given life by suffering. A memory of pain, of fear, of anger."

Images of Exegol drifted into her mind. Growing up with the other servitor kids, running through the shipyards, their vastness and looming machinery creating a playground to ignite young imaginations. Breathless trips to the surface where it was a special, scary treat to scale a peak and watch lightning dance on the desert flats.

She remembered her playmates names and faces, all of them. She remembered the looks on the faces of the adults. It was exciting; they were making the future of the galaxy, right there.

She remembered her mother.

"Live the memory again. Stoke the flames," Dziet urged them.

Aestra didn't want to remember. It hurt, every time.

"Let the flames of hate burn higher and brighter."

Her mother was beautiful, always, even when she'd finished another grinding day in the shipyards and Aestra could see she was tired but still had to cook for them both and do chores late into the night to keep their tiny quarters liveable. She remembered the lines on her pale face, and the scars on her hands as she stood over their stove, dark hair tied back. Even though she had been just a small girl, she could have helped more. She wished she had.

She remembered how her mother had carried herself, with a dignity that stayed straight and tall, never beaten down by work that bruised, broke and burned, never despairing despite the friends that didn't make it, claimed by another accident or cut down by an overseer. Aestra couldn't recall her ever complaining, ever crying, ever giving up.

The sharp pang of memories of how, despite everything, moments had been made for her and her alone. The sweetness of childish delight at being presented a necklace crafted into the six armed Sith icon from tiny scraps of nyix squirreled away despite the risk, diverted from the hulls of the glorious fleet and beaten into shape, burnished by love. And now, the sour touch of shame at how she had lost it, that last scrap of her, despite how coveted it had been.

She couldn't remember ever thinking of her mother as strong, but she had been young, and blind to such things.

She remembered being tucked into bed, snuggling under blankets to chase away the chill of the night, listening to the rhythm of the hymns of the faithful, and mother's face near hers, spinning stories of a glorious future and their rewards to come. "Sidious keeps his promises," she'd whisper.

"Let your anger flow," Dziet said, "Let it spill out and fill you."

On Exegol, mother had been everything. Her world, back when the world was simple and sweet. How quickly it had been torn away from them.

She remembered the day they came. The impact so distant it was felt in her bones rather than heard. A wave of terror that grew louder and closer until it engulfed them all. The shouts, the screams, scrambling for possessions, running for transports.

In their quarters, pacing back and forth, too scared to leave and face the madness, but terrified of the disaster that was sure to destroy her if she stayed. That's where mother found her, and kissed her, and took her into her arms and ran.

The familiar sting of a regret replayed a thousand times. She could have run by herself. They would have been faster.

Blaster fire, far away at first, but growing closer. Kids she recognised, running alone.

Bolts flying by them, and then they were falling.

Lying by her side, seeing the light fade from her eyes, feeling the breath leave her body. She had watched her while everything burned and died around them, unable to move, or breathe or speak or feel.

She wished she had been stronger, run faster, known the Force and used it, so they could be together now, somewhere better, somewhere they called home. She wished she'd been able to tell her she loved her one last time.

The Lightsiders had burned down the world and everything she had, buried the future and torn down their dreams. They'd taken it all in a moment.

She wished she could go back, lightsaber in hand, and kill them. Kill them all. Kill every single fucking shitty one of them, spit on them, scream at them until her lungs burst, burn them to nothing and blow away the ashes.

The Betrayer, her Jedi, her soldiers. She hated them all. Hated their smug righteousness, hated how they talked of peace and freedom but came with death and destruction. Hated them for the friends she had lost and the ones that never saw their parents again. For the mother they took from her.

"I sense your hate, your anger. Feel it burn," Dziet urged them.

Aestra felt wetness in her eyes, on one cheek. Shit. Every fucking time, like a baby, as if she'd never grown up since that day, as if she'd left half of herself on Exegol, lying on the ground next to mother, watching life slip away from her. She shouldn't let anyone see tears. Tor probably just simmered in hate silently, perpetually, controlling it like a machine. That was how it should be done.

She couldn't go back of course, couldn't do any of those things. Stupid girl. She had to stop thinking like a child and start acting like a Sith. What's done was done. She died. She's gone. The only way her mother could help her now was by making her more hateful, more powerful. Her path to glory and redemption was to be paved with as many dead Jedi as she could manage in her lifetime. That was all that mattered now.

"Imagine the Force," Dziet continued, "In everything. In you, the other acolytes, the rooms around you. Feel it in the planet. The system. The entire galaxy. Imagine that power rushing in from across the galaxy to your hot, red core, flowing through it to fill you."

"The Dark Side blesses you with strength," Dziet said, "Use it wisely."

She would use it to kill Lightsiders. Kill Jedi. Fight alongside followers of the true path and bring about a new age of Sith ascendancy. Restore balance to the galaxy and the Force.

For too long the followers of the Dark Side had cowered. Now they must emerge to extinguish the light and restore the order that was ordained by the Force, and she must play her part, by ascending and taking her place at Inferna's side.

"Such is the way of the Sith," Dziet concluded.

"Such is the way of the Sith," Aestra murmured in reply.

Chapter Text

Low sun. Blinding. Painful.

Trin shielded her eyes and groaned inwardly. Was it only yesterday she'd reveled in watching the sunrise? Today was a new day. Hangover day.

Her walk took her past Teela's, and there she was, of course, waiting and looking as pristine as she ever did, Padawan uniform neat and pressed, not a hair out of place. Mirialans. Teela would never need to pay the price of the day after a big night out.

"You look rough," she said helpfully.

"Feel it," Trin mumbled, "Think I mixed merenzane and regellian at some point. Never a good idea."

"I don't know why you do it, if it's going to mean all this suffering the next day," Teela tutted and walked with her, slowing her usual brisk pace to match Trin's leisurely stroll.

"Sometimes, you have to suffer to get what you want," Trin said without conviction.

History this morning. An easy one. She just had to make it to lunch, when she could pick up one of Ella's coffees to see her through the afternoon. Dark roast and don't go easy on the caffeine, thank you.

Trin shielded her eyes again and walked the twisting cobbled paths.

---

Aestra knew he was behind her.

Partly because of the creak and crackle of his shiny leather boots and the clunk of armor panels, but mainly due to the soft, metallic wheeze of the respirator she was sure he used mainly for effect rather than necessity.

The acolytes walked from Meditation to Combat, through corridors that transitioned from yellowing linoleum and plasterboard in the office zone, to pressed, tarnished metal and exposed conduits nearer the vast Terrashaft and the training arena.

"I sense your weakness," Tor rumbled softly for her ears only, just a pace behind.

Aestra had a rush of adrenaline as she wondered, not for the first time, whether Tor would dare attack her outside combat training. There had been a number of near-fatal incidents between acolytes inspired by feuds and rivalry. Xate and the Council had meted out punishment that was swift and brutal; order had to be maintained. If the academy turned to anarchy, the entire venture would be lost. As Rem and Dziet had said, they needed soldiers for the battles to come, not just one Sith. But if Tor believed he knew what that punishment might be, or had negotiated it in advance, and weighed it as worth the cost of eliminating his main challenger for the ascendance...

"I will use it against you," he hissed gently.

Had he seen her tears? Damn meditation class. They shouldn't be forced to feel in public.

How much could he know? Hate cores were private. You weren't supposed to share the feelings that powered them with anyone. She'd only hinted at hers to Rem, and after a faltering few seconds in which he'd started to tell her about a father serving in the First Order, he'd gone silent and retreated to his cabin.

"You will be powerless to stop me."

It sounded as if attacking her wasn't what he had in mind. He wanted her to suffer.

"I will enjoy your suffering."

And there you go. Predictable as ever. She couldn't think of a zinger to fire back, so stayed quiet, kept walking and did her best to ignore-

No wait, she'd got one. It played a card she'd arguably over-used, but hell, make the most of what you've got. And it tickled her to play it, every time.

"You know how to get a girl hot," she exhaled and glanced behind her, "Meet after combat?"

Chew on that. She knew nothing about Tor's sexuality. There had never been a hint of it, not even when they'd hit Klub Korriban on the night that had passed into academy legend. But if he was into girls and vain or stupid enough to think that she might harbor a desire to be abused by a brute like him, then he might be tempted, might be weighing up how serious she was, and therefore on the back foot.

"You disgust me," Tor spat.

Or maybe not. Maybe he really was the machine he appeared to be, incapable of desire beyond wanting to see his enemies crushed, objectives achieved. But 'disgust' implied she was getting to him in some way and provoking emotion, not just creating the need to defeat her. That was a potential weakness in itself. Aestra smiled in satisfaction.

"Your loss," she sighed theatrically. But what did he mean by using weakness against her?

Before long they reached the arena, where the acolytes collected practice sabers and were assigned opponents. Xate stood to one side, conversing in whispers and nods with a member of the Eternal, their face hidden in the depths of their dark, hooded robes. Hard to be sure, but it appeared to be the one that had collected H-Ren yesterday. Every so often the Zabrak would break away from the cultist to bark commands at the students, pairing them up. He turned to Aestra as she strode into the hall.

"Aestra, Nozon." He indicated each of them.

Perfect. Time to put up or shut up, weirdo. The Bith was as opaque and expressionless as ever, but she liked to imagine he was looking at her and groaning.

Xate turned to H-Ren, who had wandered into the arena moments earlier and was glaring into space, repeatedly gripping and releasing their saber with both hands.

"H-Ren, Rem," Xate announced.

Well. That was going to be an interesting one. Aestra remembered the barely restrained fury in the Chiss' face and felt a sudden pang of concern.

The Eternal leaned towards Xate and murmurs were exchanged. The Zabrak nodded and turned back to the students.

"H-Ren, your opponent will be H-Ran. Rem, Eeway." Eeway was the Pantoran girl. Devout and relentless but not especially skilled; an easy morning for Rem. But H-Ren fighting H-Ran? What did Xate and the Eternal want to see?

Chapter Text

Nozon feinted the lunge to aim a slash higher up, at her face.

It was a nice quick attack while she was on the back foot and would have left a nasty mark if it had landed, even with practice sabers, but alas poor Nozon, that was not to be today. Bith had the advantage that you couldn't see where they were looking, but his stance was a giveaway. Aestra blocked the blow, turning as she did to deliver a hard side kick to the ribs. Her balance was just right, moving forward a little, and she felt it land hard. That had to hurt. Nozon grunted and staggered back a step or two, completely open to the simple Push she threw with her outstretched free hand. The Bith flew back a couple more paces and landed hard, the wind knocked out of him.

He held up a hand to acknowledge defeat, for that round anyway, and Aestra raised her saber to point vertically in the neutral position.

Tor. She should take this moment to watch him in action, and scanned the combat floor. He wasn't hard to spot, being the tallest, bulkiest and shiniest of everyone there, but he and his opponent were just standing, watching something.

She followed their gaze and realized some of the other students had also stopped and were watching one match in particular.

H-Ren was raining blows down upon their twin sibling H-Ran, who had fallen to the ground and was propped up on one elbow, raising their saber in the other hand to offer only the most basic of defenses. Nothing more sophisticated was required though as H-Ren stood above them to chop downward, again and again in a frenzy, using the saber like a club, technique and training driven aside by a brute need to destroy. Their teeth were bared, face twisted by a fury that was too hot to be contained within, searing their insides as it drove them to attack.

Aestra saw fear and shock/disbelief on the face of H-Ran, but of the two emotions fear was the stronger. They scrambled backwards to try to get the space to return to their feet, but H-Ren wasn't going to let them off the hook; their two-handed strikes threatened to wrench the saber from their sibling's wobbling grasp. It was only a matter of time.

One last smashing blow, and the saber flew from the grounded Chiss' hand. It wasn't just fear on their face now, it was horror, an appalled inability to comprehend what was happening.

"No." They raised an arm reflexively.

H-Ren's response was to lower their saber and reach out with one hand, and for a moment Aestra thought they were offering to help the fallen sibling to their feet. Only for a moment though. She saw the anger still vivid in H-Ren's eyes, and H-Ran's hand went to their throat as they released a strangled cry. Force choke. A finishing move rather than something to be applied in combat. The final, fatal blow to a defeated opponent.

H-Ren trembled with effort, eyes and veins bulging from their face, a high growl escaping from clenched white teeth.

Their sibling was turning ever deeper, darker shades of blue, mouth hanging open uselessly. They'd stopped the futile clawing at their throat, which was usually the first impulse of anyone experiencing a Choke, and had their hand extended to the Chiss standing above them, no doubt attempting to use the Force in a counterattack. Whatever skill they were using, it didn't appear to be working. They fell back to lie flat on the ferrocrete, twisting, unable to draw the breath they needed to call for mercy or scream. Aestra experienced a sudden, unbidden flashback to Arun, dying on the same floor, only yesterday.

Was Xate going to stop this? Aestra found him watching, arms folded. He looked satisfied, smiling a little while the Eternal by his side gave a small cry of delight and clapped.

H-Ran's desperate writhing stopped abruptly, their body relaxing, resistance spent, but there was no change in the posture of H-Ren, their hand still outstretched, the strain of their exertions still ugly on their face, the animal growl turning to a cry of release. They seemed unwilling or unable to stop the choke. Aestra heard something pop and crack in H-Ran, their head twisting back and to the side at an angle that shouldn't be possible. Wide red eyes bulged at her from a face that was almost black now.

Xate broke away from the Eternal to walk to the Chiss and lay a hand on their shoulder.

"Enough," his voice was reassuring, pleased. "Well done."

H-Ren slumped, arms falling to their side, breathing hard. Their eyes didn't leave the broken sibling at their feet.

"Do you see now?" Xate asked.

"I do." H-Ren said between breaths, "I do." They closed their eyes and tilted their head back, perhaps in an expression of exhaustion, perhaps to shut out what lay in front of them.

"We'll break here. Wait in the common area." Xate announced to the class, as the Eternal joined the Master and student.

Aestra started for the door but continued to watch the three of them. It was difficult to gauge the Eternal's reaction, being hidden within their robes, but they seemed more animated than usual, talking and gesturing. Xate smiled and nodded. H-Ren stood silent with head bowed, turned away and looking deflated now the killing frenzy had dissipated.

H-Ran lay where they had fallen. Nobody seemed to pay them any attention. Maybe they were still alive and could be saved?

She wasn't going to check. She couldn't; excessive consideration for others was a weakness. If they were strong enough, they would survive. Such was the way. It was no concern of hers, none at all. She turned away and walked to the exit with the rest of the students.

On the way to the common area, she caught up to Rem, making her way through a number of muted, bitter conversations.

Aestra kept her voice low. "What the fuck did they do to H-Ren?"

"The question is whether they're going to do it to all of us."

"Maybe. Xate seemed pleased enough."

"Two of us down in two days," Rem struggled to contain his exasperation, "There'll be none left in a couple of weeks, and what then?"

"The weak feed the strong," Tor rumbled, a couple of steps behind, again. This was his new intimidation play? Shadow her everywhere, listen in on conversations?

Aestra had used the same mantra to justify the killing of Arun, but when Tor said it, it sounded like an absolute, no shades of grey or even a shadow of a question. She liked to think she believed just as devoutly, but could see the cracks in the facade, where principle and reality failed to meet cleanly, and the doctrine needed to bend a little. Tor fostered no such flexibility, speaking in commands and statements, believing unconditionally.

"I'd rather be feeding on Lightsiders," she replied over her shoulder.

"Trust in the judgment of the Masters. And if they bestow strength upon us by other means, welcome it."

"You first," Aestra said under her breath.

"Your lack of faith means you will never ascend." Tor dismissed her.

Was he right? Did her faith fall short of what was required to become Sith? She wanted to ascend more than anything. It was all she worked for and the one thing that gave life meaning. She trusted the original teachings with all her heart. But was mere desire and belief enough? Was there an impurity within her that would never permit a complete surrender to the whims of her masters and through them the ways of the Dark Side. A stain deep within her soul that would never be scrubbed clean, and rendered all her striving and yearning futile?

And if she contained such a flaw, would Inferna sense it, to dismiss her out of hand? How could she prove herself worthy despite it?

Aestra kept walking, stared straight ahead and raised a hand to shoot Tor a middle finger over her shoulder.

Chapter Text

"Is it sunnier than usual, or is it just me?" Trin shielded her eyes as she walked the streets of Orrea with Jerik, both clad in the light cream tunics and pants that set them apart from the townspeople, marking them as padawan.

Thirteenth bell should be in about thirty minutes by her reckoning; time enough to stagger to Ella's for a life-sustaining brew that would prop her up through an afternoon of Applied Morality and Force in Theory.

No, wait. Applied Morality had been replaced by more Combat for the remainder of the term. They'd just been told about the schedule change yesterday. Better make that brew a strong one

"Neither. It's the merenzane," Jerik replied. "Hope last night was worth it."

"It does us good to get out and let our hair down," Trin felt a little defensive. Jerik never got drunk on their nights out. "We spend so much time here, in and around the Academy."

"You seemed to be having a good time," he almost made the remark sound casual, "Getting on well with Sarin."

"Everyone gets on well with Sarin." Was he going to give her a hard time over a short conversation as well?

They turned onto a wider, uphill throughfare, buzzing with lunchtime traffic. "Yeah, but you seemed to be getting on particularly well."

"Stars, you're as bad as Teela." Was everyone getting the wrong idea, or seeing something she'd missed?

"She was lecturing you about Sarin?" Jerik smiled, "I can't believe it. That's so out of character."

"We mother each other. Maybe 'looking after each other' would be a better way of putting it. I'll tell you what I told her. One: I can't see why Sarin would be interested in me anyway."

"Really?" Jerik furrowed his brow.

"And two: attachments. We're supposed to be mindful of them. Steer clear of situations where they could arise. Sarin... I think he's got it all under control. I don't think he'd let himself get into a bad situation."

"Not bad for him, anyway," Jerik said dubiously.

Trin turned to slide between a tightly bunched group of Cereans - tourists? - and a towering Trandoshan pulling a hover-cart bearing a large animal carcass. The reptile had a longbow strapped to its back and Trin felt the familiar taste of disapproval with a pinch of disgust that she always had for hunters.

Obstacles negotiated, the street returned to a state of merely lunchtime-busy. They would be at Ella's in just a minute.

"So, what about you, great Jedi-to-be," Trin teased, "Have you rid yourself of them yet? Attachments?"

She felt, rather than saw, Jerik look at her before returning his gaze to the path ahead. For a moment it seemed that he wasn't going to reply at all. "Some days better than others," he said, his words almost lost in the sound of the streets. "You?"

"Do my coffee and chocolate addictions count?"

"Well," he considered, "dark roast, dark chocolate, dark..."

"Never thought of that."

"Just saying. There's a clear connection."

"I'm doomed then, because there's no way I'm giving up either of those. But I think my parents expect me to turn to the Dark Side anyway."

"And you don't like to let them down."

They walked together, taking a turn off the bustling main thoroughfare of the food markets into a narrower, quieter alley. Another minute continuing in that general direction brought them to the smaller residential lanes that twisted along the edges of town. Ella's coffee stall was positioned right on the far side, unfortunately far from the academy but in a location that gave it fabulous, uninterrupted views down the valley. Its vantage point and the quality of the brews made the trek worth it as far as Trin was concerned. And today it was a matter of survival; fingers crossed it fixed the throbbing behind her eyes.

'Some days better than others' Jerik had said. Trin had never been aware that he had any doubts or fears - he always seemed so sure of his position in the academy, his place in the world and the correctness of The Path. Most of the students appeared that way, outwardly. But perhaps everyone had fears of their own that they clutched close to their chest so they might be hidden behind the uniform of a padawan. Perhaps today was the day to talk to Jerik about her own doubts, and he would listen, and understand.

"Do you ever wonder if this is for you?" She tried to make the question casual, "The Jedi path?"

"Not really," he shook his head, "I have good and bad days like everyone, but I'm always sure this is where I'm meant to be."

"Yes. We're very fortunate," Trin echoed what she'd been told so many times, had heard in so many smiling, nodding conversations in the Academy that it must be true. So why couldn't she bring herself to believe it? Even if Jerik wasn't going to sympathize, perhaps this conversation was what she needed to hear; a more positive viewpoint.

"We really are," he laughed, "It still blows my mind. I honestly can't get my head around it, so most of the time I don't even try. We're rebuilding the Jedi Order. Defending the galaxy from evil. Us. Out of everyone in this vast galaxy. Just saying it sounds crazy. How did that happen?" he threw his hands up.

"You know how," Trin said, "We were Force sensitive, in the right place, right time." The day of the tests, five years ago, would always be etched in her memories; the examiner, so pleased that he had uncovered two such rare and valuable resources, her parents so proud. Proud but not surprised: they had always known that she and Brandt could connect with the Force; her mother had been Force sensitive and had watched keenly for the signs in them. Brandt had been triumphant, and herself? Mixed feelings, even then; excitement at the start of a grand adventure, and apprehension, if not outright terror some nights, at being taken from the family and life she loved.

But Jerik was right. How could she want something different, something more than the incredibly privileged position she found herself in? She should be thanking the Force and the ancients that watch over her, every day. What was wrong with her to have such ridiculous doubts about having the opportunity to shape civilization for the better?

The two of them zigged and zagged a familiar route until finding themselves at their destination. In a small alcove, behind a long, low wooden table, Ella sat on a tiny stool. The middle aged woman was a native of Orrea, but her sons had migrated to the hot, humid southern highlands of this continent and forged a livelihood in coffee farming, and the fruits of their labors were on display in the large glass jars of beans of various shades that sat to the woman's right.

On the ground in front of the table was a rough cord rug, and neatly arranged on that, four colorful cushions. Ella was surrounded by the tools of her trade: aside from the containers of beans, there were tools of shining steel and dark wood for measuring, grinding and stirring, copper gooseneck kettles and earthenware cups and carafes.

Trin thought of the place as her little present to herself, wrapped up and tucked away into a hidden corner, to be sought out, unwrapped and savored as a special treat. She'd spent many a pleasant hour here since coming to Orrea, drinking quietly, enjoying the view, chatting to Ella.

The woman looked up from a book, her face brightening on seeing the two padawan.

Trin took her place on one cushion, and hugged another. Jerik sat opposite, cross legged and relaxed, running the fingers of one hand through his hair, tidying the tight black curls.

"My reluctant Jedi returns."

Damn. Had she mentioned her doubts to the woman? Must have done.

"Padawan, not Jedi." Trin corrected.

"Reluctant Padawan then."

"I'm not reluctant. Just settling in."

"If you say so."

Jerik said nothing, just watched the two of them with amusement and a barely suppressed smile.

"Are you going to brew my usual or just throw shade at my life choices."

"Ok, ok. Touchy today," Ella raised an eyebrow, "Must be a boyfriend thing. Usual coming up."

"We're not..." Trin looked across at Jerik who was smiling broadly at her, and decided to leave it.

"Actually," she said, "I think I'll try a light roast today."

Jerik nodded and affected the sing-song croak of one of most famous Jedi to have ever lived. "Reflects your intention, your choice does."

Trin rolled her eyes; the only correct response to a bad Yoda impression.

"So what about you then?" Jerik watched her keenly, "Still reluctant?"

"I don't know," Trin sighed and looked out to the valley that stretched away before her, taking in its vista of forests and peaks. "A life of order and discipline. The responsibility of - like you said - defending the galaxy and rebuilding the Jedi order. That's a lot. I worry that I'm not up to it."

Jerik followed her gaze out to the valley. "I wouldn't say I never worry. Yeah, it is a lot. It's too much, if you really think about it. So I have to push it to the back of my mind. I've got a job to do. An important one. I try to keep focused on that, and trust that the rest will come."

She envied Jerik's certainty, his ability to shut out the negative and focus on the positive. It spoke of a control that Trin felt she lacked. "You're going to be a great Jedi," she looked across at him, "The best of all of us."

"Wow," His eyebrows leapt up, taken aback for a moment, "Thanks."

"I know it. I can feel it. Whereas me..." she smiled and met his eyes, "Maybe I like my attachments. I'm only just starting to get into them. I could use a few more."

She'd expected him to joke along with that, maybe even throw in another Yoda-ism, but Jerik simply straightened up and looked at her, his mouth open, waiting for words that struggled to find form.

His eyes posed the question before he spoke the words, "What kind of-"

"-Jerik, Trin," Sarin's greeting cut through the moment as he walked up the alley towards them, "Just the two I want to see."

The Kiffar reached where they sat, Per-Elle by his side, both of them in the same padawan uniform worn by Trin and Jerik. The small Togrutan nodded in greeting to them both. The white markings on her face were stark against skin that still seemed almost black even in the midday sun - Trin could see it was actually a very dark brown - and gave her a predatory appearance that struck a contrast with her shyness. Trin smiled back; something about the girl inspired a motherly instinct to guide and protect her.

"You've good taste in coffee, I see," Sarin commented. He didn't look the slightest bit hungover, bright and sharp as ever, dark hair perfectly braided and beaded. Did he do it himself?

"Ellas is the best," Trin replied, "Join us?"

"Thank you but no; we need to get back. I'd love to catch a cup and the view with you another time though," Sarin beamed and Jerik shuffled on his cushion, "But I wanted to invite both of you to a get-together at my apartment tomorrow evening. It's also going to be something of a study group."

"Sounds interesting," Trin replied, "Ok." A study group was intriguing. In her opinion the students hadn't collaborated enough; the spread of cultures and backgrounds was wide, and their relationships with the Force were also varied. Regardless of her future at the academy, the Force would always be part of her life, and she had much to learn.

"Sure," said Jerik, "Count me in."

"Outstanding, I'll see you there, ninth bell." Sarin nodded, "We must be going. Enjoy your cup!" he announced before heading into the lanes in the direction of the town center and back to the academy.

Per-Elle lingered a moment and smiled, "I'm glad you're coming," she said, then turned and set off after the Kiffar.

Trin waited until they were safely out of earshot. "Sarin and Per-Elle? Really? Stars."

"Jealous?"

Trin tutted. "No."

Ella finished up the brew, discarding the paper filter and its used-up grounds into a metal basket. She placed the rough earthenware carafe and two small, matching cups on a wooden tray and carried it around to their side of the table, to place it between the two young students. Jerik carefully poured them both a cup.

"Thanks." Trin sipped. The light roast was as delicious as ever, though intense and dark was more her thing, "A study group..." she mused.

"What we shall learn, I wonder," croaked Jerik. Trin rolled her eyes hard enough to see stars.

Chapter Text

Aestra dialed down the thermo on her nanocling to zero and pulled back the hood of her ceremonial robe a little. The temple entrance was located on the lowest level of the facility, deep in the crust of the planet, and though this wasn't her first visit, she'd misjudged the temperature differential. The heat plus the heavy satin fabric of the robe that covered her from head to knees was causing her to overheat. Best correct it now, while she could, and save her from dripping sweat over holy ground for the next hour.

All the acolytes wore identical robes, and the mood was foul, packed as they were into one mid-sized storeroom to await the call. Threats were growled and scowled, curses were sworn softly but with feeling, and, by the smell of it, plenty of them had similarly misjudged the heat down here. An olfactory kaleidoscope of body odors, sweat and pheromones from various species assaulted Aestra's senses and she muttered her own heartfelt curse for the lack of supply runs and personal hygiene products.

At her side, the new girl shuffled around and released an exasperated groan. Aestra had been told by Dziet to make sure the newcomer got through the ceremony with no screw-ups, so it would come down on her head if the girl wandered out of position, bumped someone or - Force forbid - fell asleep during some interminable trial-by-speech about staying the true path by some droning councilor. Aestra eyed her warily.

The girl was human, medium height, with olive skin and short dark hair that looked like it had been cut by a death stick addict in a hurry. The butcher/barber had missed a handful of longer strands that hung across an expression that hovered between stress and boredom, as if anticipating something terrible but tedious and unavoidable. Her eyes darted between acolytes. Aestra considered telling her to knock that off and keep her eyes on the floor, but it would be fun to see who took offense and gave her a good-old traditional Sith welcome first.

The new student had arrived late last night in a small transport. Aestra had been woken by the whine of its engines and had rolled over, nose against cold glass to watch it descend into the ruined Terra-shaft, negotiating the derelict machinery that jutted into the void. The one landing pad that was still safe enough to use was pretty deep, below the level of her quarters, so she'd been able to watch the entire operation from her bed, experiencing a combination of interest - this very rarely happened - and trepidation - was Darth Inferna here, unannounced? But the ten humans that had emerged from the craft looked distinctly un-Sith-like, downcast and hesitant, one nursing an arm that hung limp by their side, another needing help to walk. The new girl had been among them, peering into the shadows at the handful of councilors and servitors that formed the reception party.

The next morning, there were a handful of new faces at breakfast. Nobody had introduced them or said where they were from, and the acolytes knew better than to ask.

Aestra folded her arms and raised her eyes to decaying ceiling panels. How had she got the job of looking after the newbie? Was she not being shitty enough to the other students recently? Sure, she'd killed one the other day, but hadn't maimed anyone for a few weeks. She needed to try harder.

It shouldn't be long now. She inclined her head towards the girl. "When we're called, everyone will single file out the way we came in. Keep your head down and don't look up. Just stay in step behind me."

She thought for a moment. "And don't shuffle your feet; Xate hates that, and he'll be watching."

The girl looked up with a mix of disdain and resignation, "Right."

"Try not to get too excited," Aestra huffed, "I don't know what it's like where you're from, but this is the highlight of our year. It's all downhill from here." She was only half joking.

"Doesn't matter what it was like," the girl glared at her, "It's gone."

Aestra met her eyes, "How?"

If one of the other colonies had been destroyed, she wanted to know about it. Everyone would.

The girl looked away, "Lightsiders."

Of course. The Third Republic and their fucking pseudo-Jedi lackeys. "Tell me about it later," Aestra said uneasily, and felt the embers of a familiar hate flaring up again, its flames illuminating the faces of lost friends and ushering in distant echoes of heartfelt whispers and stories by her bedside.

Rem appeared, elbowing his way through the throng towards her. The murmurs near the door grew louder. It was about to start.

"It's going to be Purity, not Strength," he whispered.

"Ok," the Rite of Purity was unpleasant but nothing to worry about, safer than the Passage of Strength. They were catching a break, for once. She turned to the girl, "When we stop in front of the saints, some life force will be drained from us. It feels shitty, but it only lasts a few seconds. Don't panic and you'll be fine."

The girl said nothing, just took a breath and stared straight ahead.

"It's all symbolic," Aestra explained, "The Ritual of Nathema, when Lord Vitiate..."

"I know about Nathema," the girl snapped.

Xate appeared at the doorway, held up a hand for attention, scanned the assembly to ensure that he had it, and motioned for them to follow him. The acolytes filtered out, shuffling into a predetermined order. Aestra pulled her hood up and got into step behind Eeway the Pantoran, Rem a couple ahead of her. She assumed the newcomer was following as requested. She better be.

Less than a minute of slow and even steps through the usual bland, decaying corridors, and they had their first glimpse of the temple; the entrance hall. The ancient structure struck a stark contrast to the functional dereliction of the facility. Plastic floor tiles, metal ducting and unfinished 'crete gave way to the brutalist geometric perfection of Sith architecture, still pristine after millennia, still a perfect expression of power and control, and the strength that could overcome nature and shape the environment to its whims precisely. Cramped rooms and corridors, designed for economy of funds and space, were replaced by yawning voids and endless surfaces, constructed on a scale intended to render beings as insects, insignificant in comparison to the Force that united a universe.

The hall was suitably grand, an open expanse of dark grey, polished stone large enough to assemble an army upon, its ceiling soared high, held aloft by walls of smooth obsidian. This was an architecture of absolutes, of exactness, of right angles and flat planes unadorned by decoration or embellishments of any kind.

Sparse illumination was cast by lights set into the floor at the boundaries of the room, and at the opposite end was the door to the Temple itself, tall and elongated, a lighter shade than the wall it was set into. It was closed, of course; Aestra had never seen it open, and she wondered how that might be achieved, having never noticed handles or locks.

Lines etched into stone at her feet described a long straight runway through the center of the chamber to the door, and it was along this path that the acolytes proceeded, led by Xate. The sound of their steps swelled to fill the void, each footfall magnified as it echoed between flat, featureless surfaces.

Aestra lifted her gaze to catch sight of the saints only thirty paces ahead, at the exact center of the chamber. Flanking both sides of the path was a row of four carved stone heads, each taller than her, an effigy of an esteemed Sith Saint; beings that had devoted their lives to a deeper understanding of suffering and hate, and how they might be employed to better serve the Force. Their expressions radiated malice, and the stone icons were suspended, floating above the floor in a way that Aestra took as a reminder to never lose their respect for the power of the old ways, and the followers of the Dark that preceded them.

The floor etchings marked out a square space between the Saints, and on reaching this, the acolytes arranged themselves within its boundaries in equally spaced rows of five. The new girl shuffled into place a couple of arm lengths to Aestra's right.

Now, as in previous ceremonies, Aestra experienced a rush of contentment standing before the stone saints, infused by a reverence for their accomplishments, imagining these holiest of beings looking down on her with approval from whatever dimension they now resided in. Did they see greatness within her, or the seeds of a sad destiny?

Behind the row of saints to her left, the Council was assembled, all twenty of them. And behind the heads to her right, some of the higher ranking members of the Eternal. A councilor walked forwards to stand in the center of the path, a few steps outside of the etched square.

"We gather here today," He announced, "To celebrate the first of the great purifications undertaken by our Lord Vitiate: the purge of Nathema. On setting foot upon the cursed earth of this forsaken world, our Lord was sorely dismayed. Nathema had become infested by the Light, the followers of the Force corrupted by a plague that turned them against natural order, brought them blindly into the ways of kindness and compassion..."

Aestra recognised the voice and raised her eyes to make sure. Yup - smiling down on them as he delivered his speech, was the same towering, lanky creep that she'd encountered with Rem and the gnort the other day. She shuddered inwardly at the unbidden memory of an acrid chemical scent and the touch of his hand on her shoulder.

"...though our Lord was stricken with despair upon witnessing this desecration, he understood that the hearts of the righteous were more powerful than any legions of corrupted beasts. He sent out a call for the pure, that they might heed his bidding and fight at his side to liberate..."

The pitch of his voice rose as he told the tale of the heroic Sith Lords that came to Vitiate's assistance, to help purify Nathema. Their devotion. Their purity. Etc etc. He was really getting into it. Fuck it was tempting to stare him out. Make him forget his lines. The humiliation would be sweet. She imagined the other councilors sniggering behind his back forever. But he had power, and she didn't want the shit that he could dump on her, not now, so close to the arrival of Inferna. She sighed at the lost opportunity, more loudly than intended.

"...and though they paid the ultimate price for their bravery, their toil was not for nought. Nathema was purified, and remained a haven for true followers of the Force for thousands of years thereafter."

He paused. Ok, here we go. Showtime. To scour Nathema of life, Vitiate had used technologies from Lokath, the artificial sphere-world in the Unknown Regions. A device using the same tech was embedded in the floor, in the space between the sith saints. When the eternal triggered it, the thing would leech out some of the living Force from whoever was stood above it, symbolically purifying them in a way that was similar, but hopefully less fatal, to that experienced by the unfortunates of Nathema. The process was painful and unpleasant, but Aestra guessed that was the point.

"And now," he lifted his head and voice, to be better heard by those that had passed from this world, "Lord Vitiate, see our acolytes standing before you, and hear our plea that their souls be purified of corruption, as it was for the defiled of Nathema."

He nodded to one of the eternal, out of sight somewhere on the right. Aestra breathed deeply and focused on the core of her body. The Rite of Purity was almost pleasant, if you knew what to expect. If you approached it right, there really was sense of impurities being sucked out of-

Electric chill seared through her bones. Shock drove the breath from her body in one forced gasp, arching her spine, eyes wide.

She couldn't feel her hands, prickly numbness moving up her arms. Her feet were gone, and she wasn't sure if her legs were still attached to the rest of her body. They buckled under her but she managed to drop to her knees rather than fall in a heap, one rubbery arm thrust out and somehow ending up in the right place to prop her up instead of crumpling to the ground.

This was all wrong. It was nothing like before.

Absurdly, she was gripped by the impulse to stay upright. She couldn't fall, couldn't submit completely. Her mouth hung open, struggling to suck air into inert lungs frozen in a chest of stone.

How many more seconds? Her head lolled and she couldn't keep her eyes open.

Stay upright. Don't fall. Ears full of a ringing hiss, vision blurring.

She was drowning, the waters closing above her head, growing deeper and colder and darker every second, sinking further into oblivion, falling further away from light and life.

And it was gone. The chilling drain dispelled, sensation returning to her arms and legs in prickly spasms. She sucked in lungfuls of air and savored the taste, cool breaths filling her body.

Stand. Do it. Move. Her arms were doing better than her legs, so she put weight on them to try to get her feet under her. Managed it and straightened her legs, slowly. Someone was groaning loudly. It was her.

She stood, unsteadily, and looked into the brilliant blue eyes of the Council-creep, met his gaze, saw his mouth curl in a mirthless smile. Fucker. The Council, Xate, or both had decided to turn up the heat and see who could take it, and who didn't get up. Because why not? Because even though Force sensitives were supposedly the most valuable resource, the holy Sith teachings made them dispensable, pitting them against each other, using them up and drinking them dry in search of strength until there was nothing left.

The Council and Eternal never took part in the Rite of Purity. They were pure enough already. She kept her eyes on his, marveled at their blueness, their agelessness, and found herself wondering about the life force just extracted from them and where it went. Fucked if she was going to break eye contact.

He looked away, so she glanced around. The acolyte in front of her was lying sprawled and still on the dark stone floor. The rest were sitting or kneeling. A few had thrown up. She found Rem on her right, one row ahead, struggling to his feet, swaying. Good boy.

The new girl was an unmoving heap of satin robes and two protruding skinny legs. Was she dead? Who knew what she'd experienced in the past few days on the run from the Republic. Maybe that draining had been enough to kill her. Aestra couldn't go check - she shouldn't even be looking at her. If the girl was too weak to survive, well, it wasn't her concern.

Something shifted under the robe and the legs moved. Slowly, unsteadily, the robe rose up into a mound, drew its legs in, and eventually began to rise. Her feet stumbled to one side and for a moment Aestra thought she might have to catch her, but the girl steadied herself and straightened up.

The councilor cleared his throat and continued.

"Lord, receive our thanks for delivering these humble acolytes from the burden of the Light and purifying their undeserving souls."

He addressed the group before him. "Acolytes. Some of you will soon venture forth outside our colony. You will learn that there are many corrupting influences beyond these walls that can lead the unwise and unwary from the true path. You may experience temptation. Beware of impure thoughts that lead to improper actions."

"Resist. Through strength will you remain pure. Through strength will your soul reject the corruption of the Light. Hold fast to that which you know to be true: use of the Force for compassion and kindness is a betrayal of its true nature. These values are artificial, not part of the Force, but created by weaker, inferior beings, to twist it to their weakness. Be strong. Remain pure."

Aestra hated this asshole, but she didn't need to like him to appreciate the meaning. The Force was talking to her. It had joined her to this strange girl in Tython and had brought her today's experience as a reminder: she needed to remain pure. Looking into the girl's life was not without dangers. No doubt she would see corruption of the Force's purpose and decadent deviations from the path that would create temptation, and she would require strength to resist. More than this, these signs built a certainty that the Force had given her this particular girl for a reason. It would be her duty to bring her to the Dark and use her as a weapon against the agents of the Light on Tython.

The rite was over. The acolytes turned on their heels and started to single file in reverse order back the way they came, Aestra following the new girl. She didn't look back at the one that hadn't got up. She wasn't even sure who they were, hidden under dark satin fabric.

When they returned to the Ante-chamber, some of them slumped to the floor, exhausted. Some threw off their robes, closed their eyes, looked to the heavens in relief. There were more than a few angry, low exchanges full of bitter curses.

The new girl - she really needed to get her name - turned to her with a heated glare and an unspoken accusation.

Aestra did her best to give a casual shrug. "Like I said. All downhill from here."

Chapter Text

Trin collapsed dramatically onto her bed, though it was more a dive than a straightforward collapse, hence the drama. She'd made it through the afternoon, by virtue of intestinal fortitude, a good old Atrisian grit-your-teeth-and-get-it-done attitude, and double servings of Ella's light roast. And now tiredness and caffeine pulled her in two directions, leaving her mind twitching and turning under a thick blanket of fatigue.

The coffee had seen her through an afternoon of combat theory and practice. Jerik, Teela and herself were just starting to click together as a unit. Fahn appeared to be pushing them as one of his top teams, Sarin heading the other with Orin-Ree and Zeta-fen, the Chiss girl who'd won the 'most likely to turn to the dark side' vote at the end of last year. It was a bit mean, but she'd taken it with good humor. Which only served to make certain people even more suspicious. It was flat out speciesism in Trin's view - Chiss were always suspected, and no humans were in the running despite the specter of Skywalker and Solo looming large over recent history.

She looked up at the whitewashed, curving ceiling. Now she was back home, alone, in a safe space, she could do what she'd been waiting for all day. Contact with the girl, Aestra, again. But how was this meant to work? It wasn't as if she could call, and Aestra decide to pick up or reject. If she stilled herself and reached out as before, and made contact again, then as far as she knew, she would be right there with her. What if she was intruding? What if Aestra were on the toilet, having a shower, even having sex? A frisson of pleasure as she imagined what it would be like to jump into her body, just as she was getting it on. So how should this work? She had to make contact, that much she was sure of. Mostly because she couldn't contain her curiosity, but also because if the Force was joining them, then it would be for a reason, and she would be denying its will if they didn't join together again.

She would reach out, ask for permission and see how it went.

Trin closed her eyes, let herself feel the Force surrounding her. Felt the way it connected her to everything else in the room, the apartment, the street, the town-

—

"So did Tor fall?" Aestra asked, as she and Rem walked wearily back to their quarters, still absorbing and dissecting the horror of the ceremony.

"Let me think." Rem looked like a hot mess of exasperation and exhaustion. "Oh yeah, that was right around the time I thought I was dying. Seriously? How the fuck would I know?"

"That armor probably keeps him upright even if he's passed out," she mused. "Maybe I should get some. Dress for success and all that."

"Right. Later," he managed to raise one arm in a gesture that landed somewhere between a farewell and good riddance, as he headed off down the corridor that led to his room, "I'm grabbing some down time before dinner."

"See you there. I'm famished," Aestra carried on towards hers.

A familiar sensation brushed the back of her mind.

Hi. Aestra.

Fuck. Tython girl. She stopped walking. Was there anyone around? She checked ahead and behind.

Can you hear me?

"Yes," she hissed softly. The corridor was empty, silent save for the muted rush and rumble of utility and life support systems. It was still another thirty seconds to her door, but even if they saw someone, it should be fine as long as it wasn't Xate, who immediately would bring Darth Maul to mind, or Malgus-man Tor.

She resumed walking, quickly. Once they were in her room it would be safe to talk.

Is this a bad time?

Aestra moved quickly to her door, ID'd herself to enter, then sealed it once she was in. She exhaled in relief and scanned the room. Any giveaways? Nothing obvious. No framed images of Darth Zannah with "My hero" scrawled on them. No lightsabers. She gestured to activate the lights.

"You can't do this," Aestra kept her voice down, in case someone was passing by, "You can't just jump in and contact me whenever you want."

Sorry.

I thought we should talk again. Bad timing?

"No." It was actually perfect timing. "But if we're going to do this, we have to figure out a better way. Only meet at agreed times, or something."

Ok. I still can't believe this is happening.

Aestra could feel the amazement in her voice.

I'm seeing what you see, feeling what you feel.

"Yeah, it's pretty wild." It really was. She was sure the Force was behind it somehow, but had no idea how, and wasn't going to mention that. The less Trin knew about her relationship with the Force, the better.

Where are we?

"My room, in the mines."

Her gaze took in the bare 'crete floor, metal panelled walls, the bunk bolted to both and the absence of anything much else. A tab. A battered old holo unit. Fortunately the clothing storage set into the wall to her right was closed: a wardrobe consisting entirely of black skintight nanocling, black boots, black underwear and matching accessories could be explained away as fashion rather than devotion to the darkside, but a selection of black capes? Name a famous wearer of black capes without saying the word 'Darth' or 'Ren'. I'll wait. Calrissian never wore black.

Silence from Trin. She could almost hear the girl's mind working, wondering what to say.

It's very minimal. Industrial chic.

Aestra sighed, "I'm sure it's a disgusting little box, compared to what you have on Tython." She tried to sound resigned rather than irritated, "But here, this is luxury. I'm lucky to have it. It was management quarters back when this place was working."

You keep it tidy. Very organised.

"Not difficult when you hardly own anything."

It's very pure. Kind of monastic...

"Alright, stop, please" Aestra begged for mercy, "Though coincidentally I do actually feel rather purified right now."

Wish I could make the same boast. I'm feeling less pure by the day.

"Be careful what you wish for. Purity kills."

Hmm, I'll take your word on that.

She needed to consider her agenda and steer the conversation. What did she need from this girl? She should fish for information about Jedi activity.

Wow. What's that?

Her eyes had strayed to the view outside, as they often did when she was thinking, and Trin had seen the machines in the yawning void on the other side of the glass.

"It's just the Terrashaft," Aestra walked over to the window that spanned the back wall of her room. "Most of that stuff is junk now. It's not worked for centuries. The facilities around it are where we live and work."

She sat on her bed and let herself peer into the space, gaze roaming over the hulking machinery, its shapes and shadows looming, poised in the dark. The circular opening of the shaft above framed the fading daylight to cast a pale, cool illumination over the underground domain below.

I've never seen a terraformed world. This is amazing. They dug this into the planet? It's huge. How far down does it go?

"Who the hell knows? Far. We have all kinds of stories about what's down there, at the bottom."

So it's a heat transfer? From the core?

"Yeah, something like that. Or it was supposed to be. I guess it never worked out," she looked up to the pale circle of sky at the top of the shaft, and the surface.

So there were supposed to be cities right here. Millions of people living and working, doing who knows what, just up there. Can you imagine? But now it's a forgotten world. An almost world.

"It's a frigid, desolate, dead-end that can just barely support life."

Her eyes wandered over the rusting machines again.

All this faded grandeur. Giants sleeping after making a doomed but valiant effort to create life, waiting to rise again.

Did you just roll your eyes?

"No," Aestra protested, "There was something caught in it."

Ok. I'm still getting used to this.

This was really intrusive. Could Trin sense what she was thinking?

"You're such a romantic," Aestra said wearily, "It failed. They ran out of money, or something, and left all this crap here. End of story."

I like being a romantic. I'll never apologize for that.

Aestra could feel the smile in her voice.

You're just a bit jaded, seeing this every day. I think it's pretty amazing. There's beauty everywhere if you're open to it.

It was difficult not to roll her eyes again, or groan, or react physically in some way. If she threw up in her mouth a bit, that would really give it away. But she should be nice. What if this girl went away and never came back? Opportunity lost. An opportunity presented to her, and only her, by the Force. Whatever that meant, it shouldn't be wasted.

"If you're into ancient scrap, you'd love it here. You should see the stratotowers. I'll trade you this almost-paradise for Tython."

Thanks, but no thanks. I love Tython. I don't think there's any place I'd rather be.

But of course Trin loved Tython. She was a fortunate, privileged rich girl living in a rich, privileged Core world, not a darksider living in a derelict dead-end because the galaxy hated her and wanted her dead. So why did she detect a wistfulness in those last words?

But I'd like to see your place, if you can show me around.

"Show me yours, I'll show you mine." Here was an opportunity to get things on track, "I've only seen Core worlds on holos. Tython looks amazing. So beautiful. It would be a dream come true to see it."

Would the girl have access to the Jedi temples? Could she be manipulated into showing her?

I'd love to. There's so much to show you.

Aestra slumped onto the bed.

You're tired.

"You can tell? Yeah. Rough day," she considered for a moment and added, "Down in the mines."

She took her eyes from the window. It was a moment before she realized she was looking straight at her drawings of the symbols on the door, stuck on the wall to the side of the bed.

Those symbols. They're Sith icons.

Fuck.

You drew them?

Be cool. Don't panic. Don't start making up complicated stories that you could get caught out on, just twist the truth a little, just enough. She saw some symbols and drew them. It doesn't mean anything about her or anyone else living in the colony.

"Yeah. I saw them on something on the surface and sketched them. They're Sith?"

I think so.

"Wow." Be careful. "Do you know what they mean?"

No. But I've seen icons like them before. Where did you find them?

"On a door set into a mountain. Outside."

This is a real find. Keep your eyes on them - I need to memorize them.

"For what?"

So I can try to find out what they mean.

Aestra sat up. "You think you could?"

Getting into risky territory. What if it said something like "Final resting place of Darth Nihilus inside - keep out!", and Trin went straight to the Jedi. Could they find her? How many failed terraforming projects were there in the galaxy? But on the other hand, what if Trin could figure them out, and that enabled her to get in. Aestra kept her eyes on the drawings for a moment.

I bet I can find an expert.

Fine then, let her try. Aestra laid back on the bed, fatigue washing over her. How close had she come to death during the Rite? Her mind replayed an image of the acolyte crumpled to the ground, unmoving, hidden under their ceremonial robe. Were they still alive?

I'll go. This is the longest contact we've had by far.

"Ok. Go how?"

I don't know.

Was she feeling a shot of panic from herself, or from Trin?

I've been expecting the link to break like before, but what if I'm stuck like this forever, inside you? Shit.

"When you visited me before, I told you to get out, and you were gone. Was that me, or you?"

I don't know. The Force makes this happen somehow. I need to be still, feel the connection...

Then break-

And she was gone.

"Trin?" she hardly need ask if the other girl was still there. The sensation, like a mind breathing softly on hers, was gone.

Trin had mentioned the Force. She was Force sensitive? It would go some way to explaining the phenomenon if they both were. What if she was a Jedi? Shit.

Aestras heart raced. More risk, more opportunity.

Chapter Text

Trin opened her eyes to see the white curving stone ceiling above her bed. There was a moment of disorientation while her mind adjusted to the dizzying change in the direction of gravity, the feel of her own body's senses, of clothing and warm air on familiar skin. Aestra had been wrapped up from neck to toes in something warm and skintight, her naked face and hands exposed to the air's chill touch.

The experience of being in someone else's body, absorbing its subtly different sensory input while having no control over what she did and saw was still more than a little overwhelming, and the encounter had passed in a blur. Her mind bounced around their conversation and the sights that had passed before her. The girl - Aestra - was living a hard life, mining somewhere in the outer regions. Her cabin was small and bare, and its view onto the massive Terraforming machines had a strange, broken beauty, its peace and stillness both contrasting with and reminding her of the forests outside her own window.

The icons. She rolled over, grabbed her tab and sketched quickly before the images deserted her. She would have time to get to the archives tomorrow; she could consult some texts or ask around there.

They each had so much to learn. She'd not seen any of the other miners, aside from the silver haired young man. She'd not told Aestra she was a Padawan or shown her the town and Academy.

She didn't understand how or why they'd been brought together in this way, but she knew that finding out would be quite the experience. Her stomach fluttered in anticipation.

—

Tython's most valuable asset. The place where it all happened. Where the real action went down.

The only two occupants of the central atrium of the Jedi Archives were both human, grey of beard and robes and lacking in hair. Trin watched them as they studied the massive tome open on the table before them in silence, squinting at its pages through a large magnifying glass, commenting in inaudible, low whispers. From high above, a shaft of midday sun filtered through the glass domed ceiling to illuminate the scholars and the dust motes that swirled around them. Somewhere hidden in the shadows of tall shelves that flanked the atrium on both sides, someone coughed and was quickly shushed.

The atmosphere that filled the Archives was slightly musty and deeply reverent for the texts and artifacts that had been assembled here, the largest collection outside of Coruscant. Tython's prominence in Jedi history and position as a Core world made it a fitting location for such an important resource, but Trin wondered if the scholars and historians that came here to delve into the Archive's secrets found the isolation helpful or begrudged the trip to Orrea.

She had been relieved that she was still granted access to the Jedi Archives; it had been a year since she'd set foot here and had been worried that permission might be revoked if not used, to be passed to someone more worthy and interested. As a Padawan she was allowed to request access to the texts, but there was rarely a need.

Today though, she was on a mission. The symbols that Aestra had seen on the surface of her world were a mystery that needed to be solved.

A central aisle split the benches and chamber in two, and Trin proceeded confidently along it towards the information desk, a sleek construction of light polished stone and metal trimmings. Standing behind it, watching the approaching human, was the head Archivist; an elderly Kaminoan, dressed to match the desk. She looked down at Trin, large dark eyes with a splash of brilliant blue at the center, peering through half-moon spectacles.

"Can I help you?" the Archivist asked in a bemused tone that suggested that she had very few visits from Padawan.

"Yes," Trin said. "Can you point me to the section on..." she lowered her voice a little and raised her chin, "... Sith iconography."

The Kaminoan's eye ridges made a leap for the top of her head. The room had been quiet before, but now all sound had been sucked out of the air, as if they had been suddenly plunged into vacuum. The volumes themselves seemed to hold their breath. Trin turned to see the two elderly scholars regarding her, eyes wide, the text they were studying lying forgotten.

"All texts relating to Sith ideology, practice and philosophy are in the restricted area on level two," the Archivist leaned forward slightly, to peer at her more intensely. "May I ask why you would require such information?"

"Well..." Trin had known they might be a little sensitive about allowing a young Padawan access to Sith texts, but iconography was a relatively innocuous subject. Still, she had an excuse ready. "We've been studying Sith tombs and temples. I saw some icons in a holo that we had no translation for and wanted to try to decode them."

The Kaminoan wrinkled her nose. What did that mean? Amusement or disgust? It was difficult to remember the expressions of every species.

"Very well. I shall accompany you," the Archivist drawled, voice full of suspicion. Probably disgust then. "To ensure that you stay on topic."

Force above, the Republic were so terrified of Padawan turning to the Dark Side that sometimes Trin was surprised they even acknowledged the existence of the Sith.

The Archivist set off on leisurely, loping strides, long robes swishing behind her, and Trin followed. As they passed by more shelves, benches and desks, populated by more researchers quietly absorbed in their work, she wondered how it would be to devote her life to the Force and the Jedi in this way. Dedicated to a deeper understanding that would benefit future generations, still serving the Jedi and Republic, but without the restrictions of The Path. Might that suit her? She was never much of a scholar though, she considered, and sighed.

A small group of humans caught her eye, the gold and burgundy highlights on their tunics marking them as officials from the Third Republic. They stood in conversation with a pair of grey robed academics, nodding, unsmiling. Undoubtedly one of the delegations that visited ever more frequently to discuss the Era of Shadow, the prophesy that millennia of Dark Side dominance would shroud the galaxy following a notable victory for the Light. It had always sounded like one of the more fringe, paranoid myths as far as Trin was concerned, but obviously someone highly placed in the Republic gave it credence, a disquieting thought.

The Kaminoan started to wobble precariously up the staircase that led to the second level, and Trin was about to step onto it when she noticed Sarin in a corner. He was reading loose leaves of some worn, ancient looking parchment, and making notes on a tab. He'd not noticed her. She considered waving or trying to attract his attention in some hopefully inconspicuous way but thought better of it; best not to annoy the Archivist and get her time curtailed. She would ask him about it later, at the study group this evening.

Trin ascended the steps slowly, hoping the elderly Kaminoan would make it to the top without toppling backwards, and hoped this expedition would be worth missing post-lunch coffee for.

Chapter Text

The board leapt up from the ground a few paces in front of her and flew at Aestra's head.

Not quick enough and easily blocked with Force shield. Maybe someday she'd be adept enough to bring it to a stop and fling it back, like she saw in holos.

She skipped to the side. Keep moving to make it harder for Vane, her opponent, to land a Push, and hesitant to waste energy on throwing one out.

A whoosh of air felt and heard, passed through the space where she'd been a moment earlier. So he'd tried a Push anyway and wasted effort. Good.

Ten paces away, Vane, a stocky human male with long dark hair tied back tight, snapped her a hateful glare, and a fiberboard box - one of the assortment of objects on the ground between them - shot at her, to be deflected aside by a well-positioned Shield. The projectile was accurate and fast but easily anticipated - he kept alternating Push with Telekinesis.

She watched as Vane paused, resetting for a moment to figure out his next move. He'd been attacking non-stop since the bout had started, gambling on initiative and momentum to secure the first hit. That first contact meant victory in today's light Force sparring session, intended to teach rapid application of different skills and switching between them. His bet had failed though.

Counterattack. Quick. How to create the opening?

She feinted, using one of the objects, sending it flying into the air in his general direction. It worked, provoking the Shield, but she was already moving to the side to follow up quickly with a push, partly blocked by his barrier, but enough getting through to give him a shove and send him staggering backwards. A hard push, again only partly blocked, to force him back further, and - a bit unnecessary, but this was one of the Force skills she wanted to practice - Malacia to spin his senses and send him stumbling, arms outstretched to maintain balance.

The final blow, a cardboard box flung to bounce off his forehead.

"Break," called Xate. He scowled at both of them, leaning against one of the long line of barriers that had been positioned to section off this end of the landing bay. Some of the other students watched from the gaps between partitions, making mental notes on the other Acolytes performance; what they could learn and what to avoid.

Force Sparring sessions like today's aimed to familiarize acolytes with using the Force aggressively at the pace and rhythm of combat while not endangering lives. There shouldn't be any injuries that couldn't be fixed up by a short visit to the med bay.

"Vane," Xate barked, "Be more intelligent in your attacks. She knew what was coming. Pre-plan sequences for the next session."

"Aestra," he turned his attention to her, "More aggression. In a real combat situation, you won't have as much time."

She looked at the ground, hands on hips. He was right; she'd waited too long for the counter, treating it as practice, not with the urgency of actual combat.

Had the Malacia been showboating? They were supposed to be training mainly with Push, Shield, and Telekinesis. Fast skills that could be summoned quickly and were better suited to combat than others. Malacia required a connection to her opponent, which meant it took a little more time to deliver. It also wasn't directly offensive, but she'd not forgotten how Arun had applied it in their duel just a few days ago, and very nearly won as a result.

"Fen-Rit, Eeway. You're on next," Xate announced.

Aestra walked to one of the gaps between the barriers, to exit the sparring area. An easier morning, after losing three acolytes in as many days. The fallen student in the Rite of Purity had been Lesso, a Pantoran. After leaving the Saints of the Temple Entrance Hall, they'd not seen her again and didn't expect to. Later that night Aestra had witnessed a furious encounter between Xate and some councilors, with much pointing and snarled words from the Zabrak. If any acolytes were to be tested to the point of failure and 'lost', then she guessed he wanted to be in the loop. Xate may prize ascension of a Sith Apprentice above all else, but he knew the value of numbers. The creepy counselor had mentioned a mission the other day. What if the Jedi brought twice as many warriors? This was where her contact with Trin might be valuable. If she could somehow get near the Jedi Academy, she might be able to deduce their numbers, even combat strategies if she could watch them at work. That kind of information could be the difference between victory and defeat, and would earn her some serious favors with the Council. How could Darth Inferna not be impressed?

At the opposite end of the landing bay, another area was sectioned off for sparring, the barricades leaving a handful of gaps crammed with acolytes observing the match. The contest was being supervised by Kleese, one of Xate's masters, an older human male. He was easily picked out from the observers; tall, dressed in dark tunic and pants, arms folded. As she approached, Aestra noted that there were a lot more students watching this match than hers.

Where was Rem? They needed to plan for the next surface run, compare notes on performance of the other acolytes, see if he had any ill effects after the previous day's trials and, most importantly, to trade gossip ( #1 a rumor that Lesso wasn't dead, just undergoing the same process as H-Ren, #2 Nozon was going to snitch on them to the Masters if he wasn't invited to the Master of Hearts watch party tomorrow).

She couldn't see him among the audience viewing the contest.

She couldn't see Tor either.

Shit.

Aestra sped up her pace, to shove between two Acolytes and suck in a sudden breath when she saw for herself: Rem and Tor were the combatants.

Rem staggered backwards, the wall to Aestra's right only a few paces away from his back, but kept his footing, just about. He went down into a crouch, grimacing in effort, two hands thrust forward, focused on creating as powerful a shield as he was capable of. Bright red blood was on his face, streaming from his nose. If he'd noticed her arrival, it didn't show.

Tor advanced another step to close the gap between them, one black gauntleted fist clenched tight in front of a face etched with lines of focus and hate.

The two were locked against each other in a savage tension, immobile, bound by the Force, braced against invisible flows of energy that if redirected could squeeze or bludgeon the life from either of them. Rem crouched, defensive, blood on his lips and strain in his eyes. Tor leaned in, rage and power made flesh and encased in black leather and armor.

Aestra's heart raced, and a queasy feeling flared somewhere between her stomach and heart. She didn't try to contain it or push it away. Fight, Rem. Resist. Let Tor use all his strength and when he weakens, attack with a counter. But could he last that long? He'd been forced into a position where he was matching raw strength against Tor, which wasn't the path to beating him. He needed to change the situation and put the conflict on a different footing, somehow.

Judging by the blood flowing from his nose, Aestra guessed he'd already been caught by a hard, focused blast in the face. But why hadn't Kleese stopped it at that point? This was supposed to be a lighter practice. The Masters were supposed to step in to prevent serious injuries, particularly where Tor was involved; he was always looking to hurt, the more the better.

The silver haired boy started to straighten up, grimacing with the effort, a vein in his forehead pulsing. It was taking everything he had to avoid being forced back by Tor's Push, but he was doing it, using his hate core as he'd been taught, a conduit to the Dark Side, summoning a power beyond what he'd known was within him. He stood tall, at last, and his opponent shrank back a fraction.

A guttural growl started in the throat of the dark acolyte, muffled and given an artificial, buzzing tone by the respirator that covered his mouth and jaw, but growing louder. The clenched black fist he held before his face tightened and trembled with effort. On his pale, hairless head its scars seemed to grow redder and more vivid, and the growl grew into a roar. He wasn't holding back, and Aestra had seen this before. If he wasn't stopped, it would go all the way to the death.

She fought the urge to shout encouragement to Rem. Stay strong. Don't falter now. Surely Kleese would call a stop before it became life threatening.

With a cry, Rem's arms flew wide, and he staggered back a step, lips parted in an expression of pain and fury. Shield failed. He was exposed, vulnerable, but had only an instant to absorb the situation before he was thrown violently backward four paces, landing awkwardly, striking the metal paneled wall of the bay and slumping against it.

No.

This couldn't happen. They couldn't let it.

She turned to see Kleese's gaunt, lined face watching impassively.

Tor's breath rasped loud in the silence, the control panel strapped to his chest heaving up and down with each intake of air as he collected himself for the final assault.

And then he turned, and looked straight at her, right into her eyes, and she understood, at last, the meaning behind his words.

"I sense your weakness."

"I will use it against you."

"You will be powerless to stop me."

The respirator masked him, but she saw the smile anyway, felt the triumph in his eyes. What did he see in hers? What was her expression betraying right now? She didn't know, couldn't feel it.

Would she let him kill Rem right here, in front of her? This was the way of the Sith. The strong devour the weak. She wasn't meant to care. They were supposed to be without compassion, for compassion and kindness for the weak was opposed to the natural order, the order dictated by the Force. Those strong with the Force were entitled to live and rule, and those that were not, could die or live in dominion. To believe in the Force was to believe in the power it granted to those it saw fit to bless, a divinely assigned right to supremacy over their fellow beings.

She was frozen to the spot, eyes locked with dark, red rimmed orbs that displayed no such sign of weakness.

Tor broke away from her to advance on Rem, reaching to the downed acolyte with one gloved hand. Rem twisted, lips bared and thrust one hand out, using the Force in one final, desperate act of resistance. Tor hesitated a step, but only for a moment before pressing forward again, slow but inexorable, inching closer.

Aestras mind raced. Caring enough to step in and save someone, to put herself in harm's way to fight their battle for them was absurd, an obvious display of weakness. If she did that, she could never be relied upon to deliver herself totally into the service of the Dark Side. Never ascend. It was a crime that could never be forgotten or forgiven, reducing all the years of struggling to dust.

But could she just stand and watch?

Tor moved closer, leaning forward, emitting a metallic growl. He had the choke applied now, had pierced Rem's shields and wouldn't be shaken off. It was only a matter of time. Rem was still battling but weakening rapidly. His face reddened and his grimace was now the result of the pain of defeat rather than the effort of defiance.

Aestra tensed, built focus for a Push, a big one. Could she do it? She would lose everything.

She couldn't. She was an idiot for thinking it.

But was she so unloyal? Would she allow it? She could not.

With one last cry, Rem's arm fell, his head slumped.

"Break." called Kleese sharply.

Tor straightened and relaxed immediately, as if he'd been anticipating the command. Aestra released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and watched Rem raise his head and gasp for air. The other Acolytes relaxed and started up hushed conversations, a palpable sense of relief that they weren't going to lose a fourth student in as many days. Some looked to Aestra. Had they been aware of the situation, the dynamics between herself, Tor and Rem?

"Tor," announced Kleese, "An impressive show of strength as usual. But what happens if you face a Jedi just as strong? We need to see more guile, more variety."

"Rem," he nodded, "Showed some grit in a bad spot. That's good. In a real combat situation, holding out might give your comrades time to assist. Now, to the med bay with you."

She saw Rem trying to stand, but he failed and fell back to his knees, wincing and holding one ankle. He must have twisted something when he fell against the wall.

He looked up, met her eyes and gave her one of his grudging half smiles. She almost returned it. He struggled to stand again, and grimaced, opening his mouth as if to say, or ask, something. She didn't move to him.

Tor's eyes were on her, and she decided to meet them with as neutral a look as she could manage. That was your play? You thought that to be my weakness? Better luck next time.

A mask of polished black plasteel failed to conceal his smile.

She didn't intend to, but her gaze grazed Rem again. She didn't intend to read the look on his face, but it could have been disappointment mixed with other emotions.

A quick turn on her heels and that sorry scene was left behind. There were other skills to practice this morning, and the days were counting down to Inferna's arrival. She couldn't waste time lingering around that one match and she certainly couldn't help Rem to the med bay. He would either get there himself somehow, or some other lesser Acolyte might assist him, or else he wouldn't get there at all. It wasn't her business.

Aestra strode across the 'crete floor, heading for a section of the bay away from the combat areas and other Acolytes, where she liked to practice Force Jumps, going alternatively for height and length. Always useful skills, Force Jumps and Descents.

Don't look back.

Rem would understand. She couldn't show weakness, not now, when they were nearing the finish line and so much was at stake. He knew what ascension meant to her. She couldn't put it at risk, not for anything.

She didn't wonder how he was doing, just tried to imagine Tor's suffering, her delight in destroying him in a variety of inventive and painful ways when that day inevitably came.

Eyes forward, to the future, never back.

Chapter Text

Sooo good... Trin groaned and licked her lips. Lorsan did it just right. Sweet and tender, like it should be.

This was a great idea: one of the young chef's Ronto wraps with Peka sauce. They weren't cheap, but Lorsan's attention to detail, up early to select the best cuts of meat, roasting them for longer, making the sauce himself to his own recipe, it all added up to a treat in a different league from the usual street food. Just the thing to keep her going until the party.

Not a party, she corrected herself. An informal gathering and study group, Sarin had called it. Though even if it started off serious and study-focused, it was hard to imagine it not sliding into a party later. If that was the case, even though Sarin would cater for everyone, it would be polite to bring a bottle of Andaran White (really, the same varietal as Alderaanian White, but nobody wanted to call it that anymore and evoke sad memories). Now how would that fit into her monthly budget...?

Trin sat on a high stool at the counter, alternating between watching Lorsan expertly prepare another wrap, and the comings and goings on the street just behind her. She preferred to sit out here rather than in the cramped interior, to better breathe in Orrea's flavour, to hear it speak and feel the rhythm and flow of life in a small town.

She took another bite and pondered: Sarin must have something specific in mind for the study part of the evening. She wondered if it related to whatever he was researching in the Archives earlier and whether-

Hey.

Aestra. Now it was Trin's turn to be startled by a sudden intrusion. She turned her back to the counter and looked out at the street.

"Yeah. Hi," Trin said under her breath, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. If someone saw her mumbling to herself, would they think she'd gone mad, or assume she was communing with the Force, or something else mystical and mysterious? Padawan, the Force, and the relationship between them weren't well understood by the townspeople.

"Welcome to Orrea." Maybe she should get a comlink, to put on a pretence of speaking to someone remotely.

Just finding my feet. There's always a few seconds where things don't make sense.

"Mmm. It's overwhelming, jumping in, or whatever you'd call it."

It's so different from where I am. Noisier. Busier. Smellier.

"That's probably just me," Trin smiled, "Take a look." She glanced around the street scene arrayed before her. The row of nondescript one story buildings opposite was home to a jumble of food stalls and tiny convenience stores that were confusing to outsiders at first, so she deliberately directed her gaze to people and activities she thought Aestra might find interesting. A local villager sat on the opposite side of the street, selling fruit from baskets they carried strung across a long wooden pole. Two expensively dressed human men, probably merchants, deep in conversation as they walked by, while two silver protocol droids followed in their wake, tall and sparkling in the late afternoon sun; new model Arakyds, a fittingly conspicuous show of wealth.

So this is Tython. Cute. More rustic and small town than I imagined.

"Orrea is a small town," Trin confirmed, "Tython does have cities though. Ashtala's pretty big."

I don't see any Jedi around. I thought they'd be everywhere.

"What? There are no Jedi anymore." How could Aestra not know that? She was an odd one, but Trin guessed she had a right to be, stuck in a mine on a deserted planetoid, goodness knows where. Everyone knew that when Skywalker (or Palpatine, depending on which side of that argument you were on), the only remaining Jedi anyone was aware of, ran off to the Uncharted Regions, she'd screwed it all up: tradition had it that someone could only be declared a Jedi if their master decided they were worthy, and that master needed to be a Jedi themselves. The Republic Council still hadn't reached a final decision on whether they could confirm new Jedi without Skywalker's approval. Trin suspected they were stalling in the hope she would reappear and rescue them from being forced into a decision that would break from millennia of history.

None?

She sounded disappointed.

"No, but we're working on it. You really haven't heard about this? I'd ask if you've been living under a rock, but I guess you've been living in one."

A pause.

Shame. I loved all the stories and legends about the Jedi when I was a kid. It would be amazing to see a temple, or anything relating to them.

"Well, you're in the right place." Trin took another bite of the wrap. Damn, Lorsan's sauce was good.

Wow. What just happened in my mouth?

Trin suppressed a laugh. "My mouth," she corrected, "And that's a Ronto wrap."

Oh gods. Don't stop.

"Whatever you say," Trin smiled and kept chewing.

That. Is. Incredible.

She did her best to hold in a chuckle and swallowed a mouthful.

Fuck that's good. Uuuhh.

Aestra's groan rumbled around Trin's head.

"I should tell Lorsan - the chef - he just gave a friend of mine an orgasm. Might lead to awkward questions though."

I've been living on algae, bugs and fungus for years now. This is fucking amazing.

"Glad to be of service. I love Lorsan's Ronto wraps."

You eat these all the time?

"Not all the time. They're a bit unhealthy, and expensive, so this is a treat. But, I love to please," she mumbled through another mouthful, "So I could have them more often. Just for you, of course."

Do you eat this time every day?

"In the evenings it varies," she hesitated, "You're not thinking of jumping into me at every mealtime are you? We need to set some boundaries."

She sensed rather than heard, a sigh.

Ok. I guess.

Trin thought for a moment, "However, come see me in about..." She made a quick mental conversion of Tython bells to Standard Hours, "Four and a half standard, and prepare to get your mind blown."

More food and drink?

"Yup. And you'll meet the rest of the Padawan as well. Not quite Jedi, but we'll have to do."

No reply. Trin realized that she'd not previously said that she was a Padawan. Some people had a strangely uninformed view of Jedi and everything associated with them. There were plenty of communities, or even entire worlds, where Empire propaganda had taken root and never let go, and Jedi were still considered dangerous, scheming cultists. Aestra's world sounded very isolated; perhaps it was one of those.

"Sorry, I should explain." Trin turned to lay the wrap down on the counter and her eyes met Lorsan's. He frowned curiously at her - he must have heard her mumblings. "Force ghost," she explained, waving a hand at the space in front of her. He nodded but the frown stayed as Trin turned to face the street.

"I'm a Padawan here at the Academy," she continued, "Studying the Force and the Jedi path..."

Laughter, like bubbles of pleasure, fizzing at the back of her mind.

"What? What's funny?"

You're a Padawan. You're going to become a Jedi.

More laughter.

"Yes. That's funny?" Why did this girl find the thought of her becoming a Jedi so amusing? Was her character so obviously deficient in the stereotypical Jedi-ly qualities they saw in every holo about the defenders of the Galaxy? Steadfast self-control. Earnest morality. Heroic stoicism. Had the merging of their senses granted Aestra insights into her character?

No. Not really. It's just... here I am, looking for Jedi, and there you are, right under my nose. Of course.

"Umm, ok." So this girl really was interested in Jedi, which was to be expected - they were interesting.

A lightsider.

"A what?"

Doesn't matter. Aestra said quickly. Yes, the party. I'll be there. Sounds great.

"Ok, cool. It might get a bit boring. We're supposed to be studying together. I'm not sure what."

Studying the Force?

"Probably."

Oh, I won't find that boring. Not at all.

I have to go now. Aestra said abruptly.

"Ok, later," Trin replied, but she could sense that the other girl was already gone. Strange girl, but very interested in Jedi, which was cool because that meant Aestra should be interested in the things she did here.

Or was it cool? Wait. What was she thinking?

She'd already started to regard this girl as a friend, but they barely knew anything about each other. They'd only 'met' for a few minutes, but it had been with an intimacy that forced them closer. When she'd surprised Aestra in the mines, she'd felt her alarm in a sharp intake of cold air and a quickening pulse, sensed the tension in her and how it was released like a breath when she was alone in her room. The sensation of being in her skin was intoxicating, a little addictive; she wanted to visit her again, and see and touch her world. Little wonder she felt so involved with her so soon.

Aestra didn't really intend to come to her for dinner every day, did she? How often were they going to 'meet'? Trin watched street life stream by and reflected on recent events. So far, she had handled the situation day to day, doing her best, unconsciously, to shut out the scary reality that so much of it was out of her control. Everything had happened so quickly; it was only three days since she'd touched the artifact on the shrine and had first contact. Now they were meeting multiple times a day and sharing meals, after a fashion.

Where could this be going? What could go wrong? Plenty, surely, when someone could jump into your head uninvited, at any moment. She couldn't know what kind of character Aestra was, and whether she might abuse their connection.

And yet, the Force, somehow, was behind this. And didn't she trust the Force?

It was in both their interests to find ways to retain control over their privacy. They should experiment and try to find a way of keeping the other out, to prevent them from jumping in uninvited or push them out if they needed to. She would raise this with Aestra next time.

She finished off the wrap, watched the passersby for a short while and stood up to head for home.

A cool breeze touched her cheek as the setting sun brushed the tips of jagged valley peaks. What the hell was she getting into? And if it went wrong, was there a way out?

—

Aestra lay on her bed and basked in triumph, purring and stretching its length to touch her toes and fingers to the cold steel walls on opposite sides of the room. A Padawan. But it made sense; somehow the Force had connected them, so of course Trin would be Force sensitive.

And she'd got so excited she'd almost given it away by calling her a 'lightsider'. Idiot. Only a darksider would use that term.

Four and a half, standard. Middle of the night. Aestra rolled over, grabbed her tab and set an alarm. Tone: the ever-popular "Sidious demands loyalty". She couldn't wait to be roused by their sadly departed leader, or clone thereof (whatever you wanted to believe - only the Eternal knew for sure) and see what she could learn from a party full of wanna-be Jedi. Their understanding of the Force would no doubt be sketchy and horribly biased towards invented concepts like 'compassion' and 'kindness'. They'd probably all end up drunk, dropping their bullshit holier-than-thou pretense like snakes shedding their skins, so they could abuse the servants and have a huge, debauched orgy. Bet Princess Padawan would take three drinks max to turn from Miss Sweety Purity to Mistress Fuck Anything in Reach. Particularly that Kiffar she'd seen in the bar.

She hummed the theme from Master of Hearts and ran fingers through her hair.

Spending the night tangled up in a Jedi sex party, trapped in a body outside her control, subject to the insatiable desires of Ms Pervy Padawan, would be a horrendous experience of course, but it was to be expected that she would need to suffer to gain power and turn the situation to her advantage. Suffering was the nature of life and the crucible of strength. In this case, knowledge was power. Who knew what secrets the lightsiders might spill out in pillow talk? The night would be full of unguarded moments she might be able to use.

Aestra pondered for a moment on just how much suffering she might need to endure to learn everything about those privileged, pretentious bastards. A lot, perhaps.

Was it warmer in here than usual?

She rolled over again to look out of the window and regard the machines, silent in the darkness. How many Jedi academies were there? Surely not many. These Padawan might be the very same lightsiders she would end up fighting. Whatever she could learn could be to her, and the colony's, advantage.

Between information gathering at Jedi orgies/meetings and eating ronto wraps, she was definitely getting the better end of this deal. She just needed to engineer ways to ensure Trin saw lots of boring facility corridors and no combat classes. Easier said than done. Her exhilaration ebbed and cooled; this was risky in so many ways.

Her hand went to her stomach and its contents of algae and leafy microgreens. A moment ago, it had been full of slices of ronto, freshly baked bread and that sweetly sour sauce.

Stay focused. Objectives: information, manipulation. And food. In that order. Probably.

Chapter Text

Aestra lay on her bed and basked in triumph, purring and stretching tall to touch her toes and fingers to the cold steel panels on opposite sides of the room. A Padawan. But it made sense; somehow the Force had connected them, so of course Trin would be Force sensitive.

And she'd got so excited she'd almost given it away by calling her a 'lightsider'. Idiot. Only a darksider would use that term.

A meeting in four and a half standard would put her in the middle of the night. Aestra rolled over, grabbed her tab and set an alarm. Tone: the ever-popular "Sidious demands loyalty". She couldn't wait to be roused by their sadly departed leader, or clone thereof (whatever you wanted to believe - only the Eternal knew for sure) and see what she could learn from a party full of wanna-be Jedi. Their understanding of the Force would no doubt be sketchy and horribly biased towards invented concepts like 'compassion' and 'kindness'. They'd probably all end up drunk, dropping their bullshit holier-than-thou pretense like snakes shedding their skins, so they could abuse the servants and have a huge, debauched orgy. Bet Princess Padawan would take three drinks max to turn from Miss Sweety Purity to Mistress Fuck Anything in Reach. Particularly that Kiffar she'd seen in the bar.

She hummed the theme from Master of Hearts and ran fingers through her hair.

Spending the night tangled up in a Jedi sex party, trapped in a body outside her control, subject to the insatiable desires of Ms Pervy Padawan, would be a horrendous experience of course, but it was to be expected that she would need to suffer to gain power and turn the situation to her advantage. Suffering was the nature of life and the crucible of strength, and the power she required was knowledge. Who knew what secrets the lightsiders might spill out in pillow talk? The night would be full of unguarded moments she might be able to use.

Aestra pondered for a moment on just how much suffering she might need to endure to learn everything about those privileged, pretentious bastards. A lot, perhaps, depending on the stamina of the would-be jedi.

Was it warmer in here than usual?

She rolled over again to look out of the window and regard the hulking terra-machines, silent in the darkness. How many Jedi academies were there? Surely not many. These Padawan might be the very same lightsiders she would end up fighting. Whatever she could learn could be to her, and the colony's, advantage.

Between information gathering at Jedi orgies meetings and eating ronto wraps, she was definitely getting the better end of this deal. She just needed to engineer ways to ensure Trin saw lots of boring facility corridors and no combat classes. Easier said than done. Her exhilaration ebbed and cooled; this was risky in so many ways.

Her hand went to her stomach and its contents of algae and leafy microgreens. A moment ago it had been full of slices of ronto, freshly baked bread and that sweetly sour sauce.

Stay focused. Objectives: information, manipulation. And food. In that order. Probably.

Chapter Text

Andaran white sloshed into Trin's glass, refiling it again. She took a sip that sweet talked its way into becoming a mouthful and considered how wrong she had been about the order of events. When she'd arrived at Sarin's - possibly a little late, but that was customary, for her at least - the socializing had been in full flow, with no studying to be seen. Splurging some of her allowance on the wine had been a good move; it was going down well. She was loving it, anyway.

Trin returned the bottle to its spot among various vessels of spirits and wine, lowering it carefully lest she mark the top of a drinks cabinet constructed of immaculately polished dark wood, the top surface inlaid with swirling gold filigree. She looked around Sarin's quarters. Another thing she'd been wrong about. She had always assumed that the other students' apartments were much like hers and Teela's: small, simple, unpretentious places to live, in keeping with the Jedi tradition. Obviously she'd missed a trick somewhere, because Sarin's bedroom alone probably occupied about the same floor area as her entire accommodation. Was the academy aware he lived like this?

And the balconies! Force and Gods above, she cherished her half-blocked view of the mountains from the tiny back window in her bedroom, but here... On the long side of the main living space, across the room from where she stood, were three large balconies that afforded an uninterrupted view across the valley. It was on these terraces that most of the students had gathered to chat and enjoy a few glasses of the various spirits in Sarin's collection, or the less potent beverages that had been brought by guests this evening.

Would she appreciate the valley more if she had this view? Would it be any more beautiful if she could wake to slide out of silken sheets, wander across wooden floors to stretch on that balcony while drinking in the sight of the peaks and forests being warmed by the rays of a fresh new day? Would she love it more? Probably not, but... it would be tempting to find out. And why was she thinking of silk sheets on Sarin's bed? Pass. Her internal dialogue could take another sip and shut up.

The balconies were the most distinctive feature of the apartment, which was simple in its layout, tasteful in its decor. The main living area was open and elongated, divided into study, dining and entertaining areas by a combination of decorative folding screens, cabinets and lamps. Most of one side was open to the balconies and the night, a cool breeze wafting through to stir wispy drapes that stretched from floor to ceiling. The furniture and decorations appeared to have been imported from Kiffar, if Trin had correctly identified the style of bold geometric patterns painted on elegantly crafted dark wood. Now she'd had a couple of glasses, the style reminded her of Kiffar qukuuf, the facial tattoos that identified their clan and social standing.

On each balcony stood a gaggle of students, appreciating the view, taking in the evening air and no doubt discussing combat clusters, who was taking to the switch in emphasis in the courses and who was struggling. Sarin was holding court at the far left, Per-Elle nearby again. Trin had just left the gathering on the central, largest balcony. And on the rightmost veranda, Jerik was chatting to Osin-Ree. She'd not talked to either of them since her arrival, so now was a good time to say hello.

Trin set off across the room, suddenly conscious of her attire: cheap, locally made pants and shirt, in a fabric that was getting a little light for an autumn evening, but she found them comfortable, so she'd put up with the cold. She'd missed the memo and gone one degree more casual than everyone else, as usual. The reason for her sudden bout of self-consciousness: Osin-Ree, who was, predictably, dressed in something fabulous; light shades, tight, Jedi-reminiscent layers (which was increasingly a thing, these days) and exposing her shoulders, so she must be colder than Trin. A headscarf of a few simple layers of ivory linen wrapped the base of her lekku. Even Jerik had gone a step up from his usual while remaining Jedi-casual; a white shirt, locally made, but still, a shirt, tucked into smarter than usual tan pants.

Osin spotted her and motioned to join them.

"Say hello and smile. We'll make a toast," the Twi'lek said as Trin drew nearer.

"Umm, ok," Trin was momentarily confused by the specificity of Osin-Ree's socializing, until she spotted the town lights glinting off a tiny cam as it moved in a slow arc around them, a few arm lengths distant. Of course, this was the perfect opportunity for some stream creation.

"Hi. That's a lovely dress," Trin smiled. Osin touched her arm, Jerik raised his glass and the three of them toasted some imaginary, happy event.

"And... we're done. Phew," Osin-Ree leant against the balustrade and flipped open a tiny, white enamel case, into which the cam zipped and nestled in a hollow. She snapped the lid shut and sipped her drink. "Now I can take it easy for the rest of the evening."

"Thanks for helping out," she said to Jerik, and to Trin: "He's so photogenic."

Jerik rolled his eyes, "Please. I was available and happened to match."

"Just luck, or two minds in synchronization?" Osin-Ree leaned in a little closer and gave him a look - a proper look - over the top of her glass. Jerik seemed unsure of where to aim his gaze for a moment before setting on his own glass as the most nonchalant, neutral ground to direct his attention. He swirled the red wine and took a sip while doing his best to avoid the piercing green eyes of the Twi'lek. Did Trin imagine it or had he reddened a bit? Osin-Ree grinned, apparently reveling in his discomfort.

"The dress really is lovely," Trin looked it up and down appreciatively, "I wasn't just saying that for the cam."

"Ta," Osin-Ree replied, "Bit chilly though." She rubbed her shoulders. "Not that I get a choice."

"Oh?"

"Sponsors. You know; they send it, I wear it."

"Ah, I had wondered. I'd been meaning to ask where you got them from."

"I tag them all in the streams," She put a hand on one hip, frowned and affected indignation, "You do watch my streams don't you?"

"Oh, all of them, darling," Trin protested effusively, "I always like to see what impression my parents are getting of the place. Keep up the good work." She raised her glass.

Osin laughed. "That's my sacred mission. Projecting a positive image of the academy."

"Hey," Teela interrupted, materializing at Trin's side, and putting her arm through Jerik's. She wore the same short, dark dress as on their recent night out, hair tied back this time. "Can I borrow him for a minute?"

"I'm done with him," Osin said, then lowered her voice to add, "For now."

Trin caught the beleaguered young man's eye. He did look good tonight; the cut of the shirt and pants teaming up to make the most of those shoulders and all that dedication to fit class, the light fabric striking a contrast to his dark skin. "You're in demand," Trin released an exaggerated sigh, "hope there'll be something left for me."

His shrug was a picture of helplessness as Teela pulled him away. "Must be nice to be wanted," the mirialan didn't smile as she ushered him into the interior of the apartment. For a moment, Trin considered making an excuse and following, but she rarely got a chance to talk to Osin by herself. No, scratch that - she couldn't remember any occasion when it had just been the two of them. They had only ever exchanged chit-chat at social events. Grasp the moment, Trin told herself; be in the now. Stay.

Osin-Ree's attention returned to her. "So now you know. I only look this good because someone else is paying. You thought I could afford all these outfits myself?"

"I'd just assumed. Parents." Trin waved one hand vaguely.

"No! Quite the opposite. Gods. My family's dirt poor," Osin laughed.

"Oh." Trin played with her glass, a familiar discomfort stirred up at her awareness that she unwittingly viewed life through the lens of privilege. On many worlds, Twi'lek were still an underclass, suffering under the specter of centuries of exported slavery.

"It's ok. Mother a dancer, father a servant. Typical Twi'lek story," Osin said with a resigned shrug.

"The sponsor money goes to them?"

"All of it. Everything's worked out wonderfully. I was lucky to even get the test. It was a bit of a lottery on Kwenn. When I passed, well, my parents were delirious. They were straight down the temple, hailing it as a miracle. Their ticket out of poverty."

Trin simply nodded in understanding. She'd never had to consider the financial benefits of being a Padawan, but of course the trillions of eyes on them brought opportunities.

"So I can't leave," Osin said, and added, "Even if I wanted to. Not that I do."

"Oh, of course," Trin assured her, as if there was no way she could have possibly interpreted her words as expressing an actual desire to leave the academy. Who in their right mind would give up the chance to be a part of such an opportunity? That was the stock line, the one they'd told each other a hundred times, because it was true, mostly. But revealing words - "I can't leave" - had slipped by painted lips, freed by the hour and alcohol. An unguarded moment, Trin realised.

"I mean, who could leave this?" Trin said, gesturing towards the rest of the students and Orrea in general.

"We're very lucky," Osin-Ree reached behind her head to flick one lekku around to the front, where she fidgeted with it and the thin gold wires wrapping it, looking out to peaks hidden in shadow, lips parted slightly. Trin felt the Andaran white starting to fuzz and blur the evening, playing with her attention, drawing it off to pleasant distractions and keeping it there. She followed the gold wires as they wound all the way up goose pimpled lekku to Osin's headscarf of ivory linen, where they joined to a set of chains and tiny enamel charms that encircled the cloth, stitched to it in spots to keep the decoration in place. It looked exquisite; more sponsors, she assumed. Of course Osin had sponsors. Trin was sure they were falling over themselves to get to her. She was gorgeous.

"What about your parents?" Osin had turned from the town and was asking her, "They're politicians?"

"Yes," Trin snapped out of the reverie and resolved to slow down on the wine. They hadn't even started the 'study group' part of the evening and she was already getting pleasantly sloshed.

"Ambassadors. Retired. Oh, it's a miracle as far as they're concerned as well," Trin laughed, "They had no idea what else to do with me. No chance of me following in their footsteps, or following my brother into the military, so the Academy is perfect. Status. One up on everyone else at their clubs and societies."

"I can hardly imagine," Osin shook her head, "You're from Coruscant?"

"Atrisia."

"Excuse the mid-rim girl," Osin smiled, "While she confuses all those rich old core worlds."

"You're one of us now. Doesn't get more core than Tython."

Osin-Ree pulled a face at the thought of switching allegiance from Mid-rim or Hutt-space girl to a Corer. "This is the only time I've been to the core. Really..." She looked a little bashful, which was a first, as far as Trin could remember, "...it's the only time I've been away from Kwenn. So I've only seen holos of Atrisia. It looked very different from here. Do you miss the cities? Being in the center of things. Lots of places to go, things to see."

"Stars, no. I love it here. I'm not a city girl. This is where I'm meant to be," Trin waved a hand at the view, "Tython, anyway..."

Osin-Ree's eyes were bright and green and didn't leave Trin's face, "Just Tython? Not the academy?"

Trin was unable to break away from the girl's emerald gaze. This was the point at which she was supposed to reassure her that she shouldn't misunderstand and of course she loved life at the academy. But the directness of the question had thrown her. She'd gone halfway to giving herself away. Would the standard phrases about glorious opportunities and dreams come true, be enough? And did she want them to be? She took another drink. Did her need to share her doubts with someone outweigh the risk? Doubts that couldn't be voiced to Teela or Jerik.

Trin usually found Osin to be friendly but guarded, as if she danced behind a veil of carefree enthusiasm that revealed only her silhouette, hiding the details that would make her whole and real and someone she could connect with. But tonight it felt as if the Twi'lek was pushing up against the disguise, letting it expose her curves and contours in little slivers of intimacy. Perhaps that was why they had found each other, Trin thought, and immediately chided herself for such romantic notions of Force and destiny. Blame the Andaran.

"Hmm?..." Osin raised one painted eyebrow.

Trin not so much exhaled as deflated. "Can this just be between the two of us?"

"Of course," Osin didn't smile, her gaze direct and steady.

"I have doubts," Trin said.

The Twi'lek nodded, "Welcome to the club." She raised her glass in a mock, subdued toast.

"I thought it was just me," Trin sighed.

"We're not supposed to voice doubts, are we? Just be eternally grateful."

"It's understandable though, isn't it? Having doubts? It's asking a lot. And some of us are still almost kids."

"They don't get that sometimes," Osin turned away from the others on the neighboring balcony, "It's like they're hoping we're too young to get weighed down by it. But we're rebuilding the Jedi order. Us." She raised her hands helplessly.

"I have days when I can hardly believe it," Trin agreed.

Osin's eyes were fixed on hers, "And nobody's ever been in our position. For thousands of years there was structure to the Jedi order. Processes, procedures, Jedi to learn from. There were structures all set up for Padawan to have the best chance of success. We've got none of that. What if we fail?"

"Then they carry on, with more Padawan," Trin shrugged, "There's plenty more candidates to find out there. Maybe it takes decades to build up to just a few Jedi, centuries to get anywhere near where we were before the Empire and 66."

"So we shouldn't worry about failing?" Osin eyes were wider now, voice more urgent, "What about the Darksiders? What if they rebuild faster, better? The galaxy falls into Darkness again and it's our fault?"

"You mean the 'Shadow Era'? Is that really a thing?" Gods above, as if they didn't have enough to worry about,

"Some think so. Don't get Arun started on it."

"We can't think that way," Trin kept her voice calm, wary of attracting unwanted attention. "It'll crush us if we look at it like that. I talked to Jerik the other day. He agrees that it's too big to even think of sometimes. He just shuts it out, keeps his eye on the path, does his best. That's what we should do as well."

Osin took a breath to calm herself and stroke one lekku, fingertips running down decorative wires. Trin wondered what the equivalent human action would be. Playing with long hair, probably.

"Typical Jerik," Osin said, "He'll make a wonderful Jedi someday. I envy his confidence. I just... most of the time, I don't think I'm good enough, or ever will be."

"Osin, you're one of our best students."

"But is that enough? I doubt it, every day. And the thought of fucking up something so big... I feel like I'm balancing on a wire, up in the clouds, and the galaxy is watching."

"The Council thinks you're good enough, so you should believe it too," Trin insisted.

"You know how I get through it? The streaming. I play a role, become someone else. I feel like I'm a character from one of those old holos. The girl from the dust transformed into a fabulous, heroic Jedi master." She turned side-on to strike a pose. The effect was somewhat diminished by the fact that she had a glass of wine in her hand instead of a lightsaber, but she looked rather dashing anyway.

Osin-Ree leant on the balustrade next to Trin, and looked out at the night sky, "Then it all seems less real, like I'm watching a drama. The Jedi never die in those holos. They always beat the Sith and save the day somehow."

"I don't think it's going to be like the holos," Trin breathed.

"Shh. Don't spoil it."

The two girls stood shoulder to shoulder and watched the stars slip through the sky.

"Do you want to be here?" Trin asked.

"It's a dream come true for me," Osin said wistfully, "I used to watch the holos, read all the statics. Dreamed of a glamorous life defending the galaxy from evil, righting wrongs." She took a drink and smiled, "All while wearing amazingly impractical and very sexy outfits."

"You watched the same holodramas as me."

"And here I am. Do I want it? More than anything. I just don't know if I deserve it."

"You deserve it as much as anyone here. And you wear the impractically sexy dresses rather well." Trin cast an eye up and down her current outfit.

"The dresses are everything I dreamed of," Osin laughed.

"Ok, so take inspiration from Jerik. Train, learn, try not to get killed by any Darksiders, and in time, you'll believe it." She met the twi'lek's green eyes, "like we do."

"You're right, I know," Osin straightened up and looked to the night, "and anyway I wasn't kidding when I said I can't leave; my family needs me. But I can't help feeling this way," she shrugged. "Anyway, enough about my doubts. What about yours?"

"My doubts are a bit different," Trin said, and grimaced, "I'm not sure the Jedi path is for me."

Green eyes regarded her with sympathy, tinged with pity.

"I mean, it can't be for everyone. Maybe it's not for me. All that discipline and order. A life of no attachments. I'm only just getting into attachments." It felt good to be saying it out loud, bringing fears into the light.

"I feel like I've not had enough attachments. And now I have to give them up forever? My life's just getting started, and now the Path is putting all these restrictions on it."

"Attachments have tormented Jedi ever since the Primes," Osin said.

"I'm sorry," Trin sighed, "It's ungrateful, spoiled, whining. I know it. I should be thanking the Force every moment of my life that I have this incredible, unbelievable, amazing opportunity to do good, and matter. But still..."

"The Path isn't easy," Osin said, "Many great Jedi have struggled with it, so you're in good company. You should talk to Fahn."

"I will."

"It's what he's here for."

"I know," Trin conceded. Going to Fahn was the right course of action, but she feared the consequences. Her hand could be forced. She may be asked to leave the academy when it was all she could ever want; deepening her connection with the Force, in a place she adored with friends she loved. What kind of a numbing, lesser life would be her reward if she returned to Atrisia in disgrace?

She swallowed down these selfish, bitter tasting desires; the Darksiders loomed on the horizon, a gathering storm that inflicted clarity with its threat of violence and death. To stay and not be committed would be to put everyone at risk, Jerik and Teela most of all. She had to resolve her doubts or take them to Fahn.

Osin put a comforting hand on her shoulder and raised a glass, "To my imposter syndrome and your desire for a life of wild, unfettered hedonism."

"Not exactly what I was-"

"Whatever. Drink."

Trin and Osin-Ree clinked glasses, gently. The delicately cut crystal rang a pleasing note as the peals of the tenth bell reverberated through alleys and avenues, the silent markets and the empty halls of the Temple high on the hill above that had seen so many Jedi come and go, in failure and success.

Chapter Text

Trin and Osin-ree turned back to the party, which had moved into the interior of the apartment. Some students stood in knots of conversation and some were relaxing into settees and armchairs arranged around a low table.

Sarin stood at the head of the table, apart from the groups and held up a hand. "Can I have your attention please," he announced.

Conversation quietened and died as he waited, hand raised, eyes moving between those assembled before him. Trin and Osin-ree moved from the balcony into the main room, and Trin caught his gaze for a moment before he continued.

"Thank you for coming. It's wonderful to see you all here in my humble home from home. The cream of the academy, in my opinion. May the Force bless you." He raised his glass and was answered in kind, smiles all around. Sarin had opted for traditional kiffar dress tonight, Trin noticed, which was unusual. His dark, woven tunic was sleeveless, revealing arms bearing vivid bands of color; tattoos similar to the qukuuf on his cheeks and forehead. His wrists were bound in strips of animal hide, and he had the appearance of being ready for battle. Usually it was difficult to reconcile the amiable, gracious student they shared classes with and the kiffar chieftain she understood him to be, with all the violent conflict that entailed, but tonight his two sides were plain to see.

"It is always a treat to share time with my friends from every corner of the Republic," Sarin said, "And most illuminating - Teela, I had never suspected mirialans could be every bit as depraved as kiffar," he chuckled, and the laughter was contagious. Teela played her part by folding her arms and shooting him a dark look with an exaggerated huff.

"However, pleasant though this is," a hesitance crept into his voice and his smile faltered, "I do have an ulterior motive for inviting you here tonight."

"I'm sure you've heard rumors that there have been... skirmishes, with darksiders, and Atrisia academy has been involved," he paused, "I have sources in the Council, and I can confirm that it's true."

The students exhaled as one, eyes falling to the floor or being raised to the ceiling, soft groans as they shifted in their seats, taking in the confirmation of their fears. Jerik leaned forwards in his chair to rest forearms on thighs, mouth set in a grim line. It was one thing to theorize and gossip, another entirely to know.

Something queasy roiled in Trin's stomach as she experienced the sensation of time running out, of actions delayed too long, leaving her stranded on an island of indecision. She'd been worried that revealing her doubts would force her hand, compelling her to leave the academy, but had events tossed her in the other direction, trapping her here? Could she, in all conscience, leave the academy while it faced a crisis?

"I've been told that the Third Republic has a new team in charge of hunting down the followers of the Dark, and they are having success," Sarin said, "They're finding more hidden colonies and splinter sects than we believed possible."

"I knew it," Teela had that look in her eyes, the one that made Trin's pulse quicken and heart sink. "They're a fucking disease. They'll breed like cockroaches in every dark corner of the galaxy until we eradicate every last fucking one of them. All of them." She threw back the remains of her merenzane and stalked off towards the drinks cabinet.

Sarin watched her anxiously before continuing, "There's more," he clasped and unclasped his hands, "I'm told that in the most recent conflict, students were involved. Not just the masters."

Curses and oaths were spat in various languages.

"The fuck," Dorden, a stocky human female, with scruffy short blonde hair, exclaimed. Trin had worked with her on a community project the previous year, enjoyed her good-natured bluntness, and envied her efficiency. "They never tell us anything."

"For obvious reasons," Jerik murmured distractedly, staring into space.

"The students at Atrisia are older," Trin found herself speaking up, "Do you really think they'll involve us?"

Sarin's gaze met hers, "My sources think Tython academy would be called on, if we were better positioned to meet the threat." He added apologetically, "My sources are good."

"I thought they were done after Exegol," Agen, the Zabrak, couldn't hide his exasperation, "They were virtually wiped out, and in the years after, we heard the rest had been exterminated."

"We underestimated them," Sarin replied, "It's believed the darksiders concealed themselves in worlds where the Republic presence is weak and have been recruiting steadily and carefully. Their network of sympathizers is more extensive than we realized, and they know what they're looking for."

"Force sensitives." Teela had rejoined the audience, glass in hand. "So while we've been patting ourselves on the back and sitting on our arses, they've been stealing kids and turning them into monsters. Great."

"And we'll have to fight them? Soon?" Per-Elle's eyes were wide and blue in a jet black face.

"It's hard to say. It depends what Republic intelligence finds," Sarin said, "But I think that's why they've started the Combat Cluster training. To make us useful, quicker."

"They don't have time to get everyone up to speed in saber and Force skills," Jerik rose to his feet, "The clusters are to compensate for our weaknesses."

"We knew this moment would come," he looked each of them in the eye, and not for the first time, Trin felt admiration; he seemed an island, solid and resolute, while the rest of them were floundering in a sea of doubt and fear.

"We know what being a Jedi means. We might have hoped that it would be different for us, but we need to put that aside. We're going to have to do what previous generations of Jedi have done before us, and fight for peace and justice. We may have to die for it. If we can't make that commitment, we can't call ourselves Jedi."

Jerik's eyes met Trin's and her heart thumped in her chest; did he know about her doubts? Had he always known? What did her face betray right now? She made an effort to look as steadfast as he did.

"Noble sentiments and well said, Jerik," Sarin was somber as he nodded approval, "But unlike most of you, I have been in combat. I've taken lives, and had friends and comrades taken from me. I'm very much afraid that most of you are not ready to face the darksiders. Not yet."

The students were silent.

"However, now we arrive at the main reason for my invitation," he announced, "I have come into possession of something that could tip the scales in our favor, and I intend to share it with you."

He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small gray cylinder, shorter than his thumb, and held it up for all to see.

"Among my people there have long been tales of substances that could enhance one's connection with the Force, to make a warrior more powerful," he regarded the cylinder as he turned it around in his fingers. "Most believed these to be myth and legend, but some scholars and scientists looked deeper into the texts and devoted their lives to the search for such a material."

"A few days ago, I heard from a friend of my father, a scientist involved in this work. He told me that the search was over; they had located the long-lost Force enhancer in nature and extracted and refined it," he indicated the cylinder, "This is the result."

"It's a drug?" Jerik asked.

"Of a sort."

"It increases your midichlorian count?" Jerik stepped towards Sarin to reach out for the ampule, which Sarin placed into his palm.

"No," the kiffar explained, "It interacts with the midichlorians you already have to strengthen your connection to the Force."

A Force enhancer? Trin had never heard of such a thing. What did it do to the midichlorians? Using artificial means to boost her abilities felt wrong, but that could be just a knee-jerk reaction to something new and unexpected; she'd barely absorbed the news that students were engaged in combat with darksiders, and now this? "Is it safe?" she asked.

"They believe so," Sarin answered, "I can't tell you that it's been extensively tested, but I used it myself, some days ago, and am suffering no ill effects."

"And I believe it works as intended. I feel a strengthening of the Force within me," he looked to the students, "In an ideal galaxy this would be studied and tested for longer, but we live in imperfect times, and I share this now because I believe it can help us in our fight."

"Why haven't you taken this to the Masters?" Osin-ree asked at Trin's side.

"Because they would not approve our use of it. It is a novel solution. It would be debated at length by various chambers of the council, and by the academies. They would require more testing." He took a breath, looked down and pressed his palms together, as if in prayer. "And I have no wish to see more friends die. If I can prevent it, then I must."

"Therefore, I make a request of you," he looked up, "that this shall be our secret. The team that made the discovery are taking it through the proper channels, so in time all will be revealed, but for now, the news must go no further than this room."

His gaze scanned the faces of the students, and in their eyes Trin saw the shock that came from the violation of shelter, its walls torn away without warning, and the fear of what threats may lurk in the darkness beyond.

"I hope I can trust you. I am in your hands."

Jerik looked him in the eye and nodded. Trin watched as each of the other students nodded or murmured in agreement. She had no wish to conspire against the Masters, and by keeping silent on what had happened here, she would certainly be part of a conspiracy, but she didn't want to see Sarin expelled. There was safety in numbers also; most of the strongest students in the academy were here. Too many to expel at once, particularly if the threat of the darksiders was growing.

And if the enhancer worked, it might save their lives.

She turned away. A casual evening had turned into a storm that left her mind spinning from one revelation to the next, leaving her dizzy and unsure of the ground on which she stood.

The simplest answer was to leave the academy; a choice she had been edging towards for months. Then darksiders, Sarin's conspiracies and all of this messiness would cease to be her problem. She could wrest back control of her life just as she had planned.

Except she wouldn't, she'd be handing control back to her parents. And deserting the best friends she'd ever had when they needed her most, to say nothing of the galaxy and Republic.

"So I present the option to you," Sarin was talking again, and when she turned back to watch, it appeared that he'd shed some of his previous solemnness and regained a measure of his usual intensity. "I expect you will need some time to-"

"How does this work?" Teela interrupted, taking the ampule from Jerik, "I put it in a drink? Inject it?"

"It's a self-applicator, one-time. A single dose should last for 3-4 weeks."

Teela turned the applicator around, and on recognizing the design, pressed the cylinder against the inside of her forearm, her thumb poised over the button on the other end.

"Here?"

Sarin nodded.

She was going to use it here and now? An untested substance that changed their relationship with the Force? Trin stepped towards her, "Teela. Are you sure?"

Fear and hate in vivid purple eyes glared their message into Trin's.

And Trin wanted to go to her, really she did. Walk up, put a hand on her shoulder, get close and tell her gently to sleep on it, tell her it had been a weird evening, that she was a bit drunk, and we could talk about it tomorrow, just the two of us. Take the ampule from cool, blue fingers, keep Teela's hand in hers and walk away, out of this fucked up night, escape down twisting lanes to a mug of something hot they could share, wrapped up snug watching old holos until they fell asleep. It would be easy. Teela was right there. Two or three steps and she could touch her.

But she didn't. She stayed rooted to the spot and watched as Teela pushed the button, the applicator hissed, and she winced a little. The mirialan spun on her heels and with a swish of her long, dark hair, stalked off to the balcony.

Trin broke the invisible bonds that tied her in place and started towards where her friend stood.

Hey. It's me.

The voice in her head. She'd clean forgot that she'd invited Aestra to join her. The girl was right on time, but unfortunately that timing couldn't be worse.

Gods, Jedi parties suck. You all look like someone just died.

Trin diverted quickly to head away from Teela, to another of the balconies. Thankfully, all of them were empty, everyone either talking quietly among themselves, or sitting in a stunned silence. She stood against the balustrade, arms folded around her, and looked out to the sleeping town.

"Just had some... weird news," Trin spoke as softly as possible.

Trouble in paradise. So, what, the party's off?

"I don't know." Trin turned to survey the room. Nobody was leaving; they were all discussing events intently. Agen agitated, throwing up his hands. Sarin showing Dorden and two other humans one of the Enhancer applicators.

Looks like it's still on to me, so let's get started. I'm dying to meet everyone.

Trin groaned inwardly. Was an inward groan a physical thing, and therefore detectable by Aestra, or was it purely mental and emotional?

"This might not be the best time."

Seriously? I come all the way to Tython to see the future of the Jedi order, and you're just going to be a wallflower?

She really didn't want to have to explain the events of the evening. "I'm just not feeling well. Must have eaten something off."

Yeah, ok. Trin could feel her annoyance, like an itch somewhere she couldn't quite place.

Everything does feel strange. You feel... weird.

Are you drunk?

"No!" Trin objected indignantly, forgetting to keep the volume down. "I'm just pleasantly merry."

It's all a bit fuzzy. Like I'm not quite seeing and thinking straight.

"Sounds about right," Trin sighed.

You can at least show me the top student. The best fighter.

"That's probably Sarin. He's a kiffar." She turned, took a sip and fixed her gaze on Sarin over the top of her glass. He was explaining something to Dorden and Agen but must have sensed eyes on him; he glanced at her before continuing the conversation.

I saw him in the bar. Yeah, he looks like a fighter. Also pretty fucking dishy.

That brought an involuntary smile to Trin's lips, which she quickly suppressed; she needed to look grimly contemplative, so mumbling to herself and smiling wasn't a good fit. There certainly wasn't much of the usual humor going around. Trin scanned the room. Jerik was talking with Per-elle, who looked up at him with an anxious expression. Teela and Osin-ree were talking, Teela neutral and unreadable as Osin frowned.

Fucking hell. Is this a modeling agency or a Jedi academy? You should see the dregs I have to hang out with.

Trin turned away, to face the sleeping town. "I've only seen one so far. The silver-haired guy, and he was hardly ugly."

Trin felt a sensation something like bitterness at the back of her throat.

Thanks. I'd managed to put him out of my mind.

"Oh. Why, what's up?" A sore spot, but alcohol made her braver about probing it.

Nothing... Just weakness. Fucking bastard. I had to... Nothing.

"Right. Ok." A boyfriend? A bad breakup?

Get some food so this evening isn't a complete bust.

"Force sakes. Pushy." The other side of the main room, near the drinks cabinet, was a selection of snacky nibbles and more substantial bites to eat. Unsurprisingly, nobody was paying it any attention. Walking across the room in full view of everyone and grabbing a plateful of food would look odd, which was exactly what she was trying to avoid, but if it got rid of Aestra quickly...

"Right, let's do it," she whispered.

Trin tried to make her way across the room as casually and inconspicuously as possible, but she detected glances from Sarin, Jerik, Osin, almost everyone. Should she stop to say she'll talk later, tomorrow, whenever? No - that could involve her in a conversation, with Aestra on her shoulder, injecting prickly remarks. Better to play the part of someone quietly absorbing disturbing news, on their own. Which was close to the truth, though she ached to go to Teela.

Reaching the food, she picked up a plate and put a few mickelnuts and sweet nuna rolls on it.

Fried protatos. The Batuu-bon. Aestra urged.

"Too fattening. I'm supposed to be improving my fitness this term." A twinge of dread as she realised what lay behind that change in priorities.

Are you kidding? Just my luck.

Trin growled and grabbed one Batuu-bon. To her left, the drinks cabinet beckoned, promising to smooth the evening out and dull sharp edges, so she answered its call. She picked up her bottle of Andaran before reconsidering, replacing it to look for something stronger and finding the answer in a carafe of merenzane gold, branch-like designs etched into its crystal.

Classy.

Trin poured a generous measure and bolted it down, burning her throat and spinning the room. At least she managed to resist coughing.

Woo! I felt that. Now we're rocking.

The walk back to the balcony was easier this time, less concerned with escaping attention as she crossed the party. Ok, it must look as if she's acting a little strangely, avoiding everyone, but fuck it, it's been a strange evening. She's processing; that's her line if anyone asks. But she should get back in there soon and see what the mood is, see what's going on.

The nuts were scooped up and thrown down in a couple of mouthfuls, chased by sticky sweet nuna rolls.

Then the naughty Batuu-bon. Damn, that was delish, so she took a little longer over it. Screw that diet. She could probably blame the darksiders for that as well, now she thought about it.

"Ok, done. Satisfied?"

Getting there. This is the life. Sexy people, free booze, free food.

"Really. My life feels like a mess."

It looks pretty fucking sweet from where I'm standing.

"Appearances can be deceptive."

So what's the problem? You're different tonight, and it's not just the wine.

Trin leaned on the balustrade and drew a long breath. "The darksiders. We should have exterminated them on Exegol. Wiped them out when we had the chance."

Oh really.

She shivered, chilled by the evening air.

Who's going to do it? You and your play-Jedi?

"What?"

You really think you're up to taking on the Sith? All I see is a bunch of pretty, privileged kids partying it up, wishing they were Jedi.

"You know what, fuck this," dealing with this crap was the last thing she needed right now. "It was a mistake to invite you. Go." If she made a conscious effort to block herself off from the Force, would that break contact with Aestra? Trin focused on the night sky, readying herself to try.

Don't worry, I'm getting out before the Jedi fuck-party starts.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Trin snapped, "I figured out your icons. It tells Force users how to open the door. You're welcome."

She calmed herself, felt the Force, its flow through her, and pushed back, closing her mind and hushing her spirit, and it became music growing quieter with distance, a light retreating into the dark.

You what? Are you shitting-

Trin felt her absence like the stilling of a wisp of a breeze; barely sensed until it was gone. So she could break the connection on demand, which was good to know, though satisfaction mixed with guilt: how angry would Aestra be? Pretty angry, since she already sounded riled up. But why had the girl gone on the attack like that? Had she gained such a bad impression of the academy in their meetings, that she thought they were betraying the legacy of the Jedi? Were they so obviously not up to the task of fighting for Light and Order? Sarin obviously thought so, which was why he'd brought them here to offer untested, unapproved assistance. Were they destined to be a broken generation, a failed experiment that would be dashed to pieces against the hard reality of determined, hateful darksiders that would see them dead?

She had to stop this line of thinking, now, Trin told herself. She was still adapting to the shock of a painful new truth. It was like Jerik said: they were going to have to put aside dreams of being Jedi in a time of peace. Previous generations had weathered times of war, rising to that challenge, and so would they. It was just going to take some a while to adjust.

Orrea slumbered in the night, peaceful and unsuspecting of the conflicts that played out around it. Trin turned to put the town at her back and face the apartment full of pretty (for sure), privileged (in a way) kids (not really, not anymore, and leaving that behind more with each day) and hoped that she was indeed looking at the future of the Jedi order.

Chapter Text

The sky blue eyes of Luxon Lucent, Jedi Master, scanned the dusty horizon with a steely gaze. One foot rested on the low wall surrounding the homestead roof as a light breeze tousled his shoulder length blonde locks and ruffled his tunic, opened to the waist to reveal pecs seemingly carved from polished, glistening stone and at least fourteen abdominal muscles. His chiseled jaw tensed and one hand hovered near his signature 'goldsaber' on his hip as he stood vigilant, alert to any threat that might be foolish enough to emerge from the desert sunset.

A woman stepped up onto the roof and began a leisurely sashay towards him, hips and long dark hair swishing a sensuous rhythm, her endless, toned legs revealed by clothing that consisted of a handful of wide strips of ivory cloth falling from the collar around her neck - a reminder of the life that the Jedi Order had saved her from - to the tips of her toes. The strips were held in place by a cord around her trim waist, and apparently nothing else save a mysterious sorcery that had them flow and hang in a way that just barely preserved the absolute minimum of modesty expected of a Jedi Knight.

She was Cerillia Ceville, a Force sensitive rescued from the pleasure palaces of Eroxasm by a daring team of Knights led by Luxon himself. She owed her freedom to the Order and the Master, and it vexed her to see him in distress.

She rested one elegant hand on the Master's shoulder.

"There was nothing you could have done," she breathed.

"She trusted me," Luxor's deep, baritone voice choked with emotion, "She loved me, and I..."

"Oh Luxor," Cerillia urged, concern in green eyes that had promised so much to so many, only to lure them to obsession, torment and - sometimes - death. "Remember your vows. Remember the Code."

"I should have been there. What is the true purpose of a Jedi other than to defend the weak?"

Luxon opened his fist to regard what it contained: a simple necklace bearing a red jewel. He clenched it again, and his eyes simmered with a fury caged only by an iron will and lifelong commitment to the Jedi Code.

Cerillia's hand moved to his arm, where it felt his mighty bicep tighten. Fear twisted her beauty, matchless even within the infernal playgrounds of Eroxasm; the pleasure palaces that were driven by desire.

"Master, stay with us," she pleaded, "Don't give in to the Dark Side."

His hand covered hers. "Never. Never again will I..." His gaze snapped to the horizon, alert.

"What is it?" Cerillia asked.

Luxor closed his eyes tightly and reached out with one hand to the desert.

"I feel..." his brow furrowed in confusion. "A presence...?"

"I shall summon The Force," Cerillia said and closed her eyes, reaching out to either side and raising her palms to the sky.

All was still for a moment, until Cerillia's lips parted and she gasped, her body spasming, back arched, breasts thrust forward, sheer fabric and mysterious sorcery of modesty just barely doing its job as usual.

"The Force is in me," she sighed, and gasped again.

One hand reached to her lips, where fingertips began a sensual path across smooth white skin, stroking her throat, between her heaving bosom, down to her stomach where they traced tender lines between the strips of ivory cloth.

Luxor turned away; it was unseemly to watch Cerillia's most unusual method of communion with The Force, a cruel debasing of its majesty caused by the perverted genetic engineering carried out upon her body on Eroxasm. He could only hope that their long search for Dr. Nova, the deviant that had altered her so, and the only being capable of reversing the procedure, was almost at an end.

"I'm losing myself," she panted.

"Remember," Luxor warned sternly, "You are a Jedi."

-

The holo lost density for a moment, the wall behind it visible through Luxor's image in patches of static. Eeway's holo unit was the best of a bad bunch.

"Fuck, I love Master of Hearts," sneered Aestra, "It really focuses my hate for the Jedi."

"Shhh," Rem hushed her, "Saber battle coming up."

Aestra reached across him into the plastic bucket of roasted Caro seeds sat in Pola's lap. The servitor always had access to the best nibbles and tastiest snacks, so she got an automatic invite to holo evenings. Her eyes were wide and bright, her mass of dark curls free of the serving net that usually confined them. Like the rest of the acolytes and servitors crammed into Eeway's quarters, she was rapt, attention riveted to the holo projected before them.

-

After another bout of panting and running her hands over every inch of her body, Cerillia's eyes opened.

"I sense him," she said as she fought for breath.

"Who?" Luxor asked, though he knew the answer.

"Darth Sear."

The words had not even left her lips before Luxor was in a fighting stance, his famous goldsaber ignited, its yellow blade a bright slash across the darkening evening.

The next moment, a motley collection of figures sprung from the sands below into the air above the homestead roof. A Whiphid, a hulking cyborg, its eyes glowing a vivid red, a mean looking Aqualish in spiked armor, even a Gungun, plus an assortment of vicious looking humans: Sear's lackeys, sworn to do his will. Vibro-whips, plasma-axes, electro-scythes and various other absurd weapons burned and sizzled in the night air.

Cerillia stood poised and ready for combat as her lightsaber flashed green and a gust of desert wind whipped the thin fabric of her costume around her body. As she lunged at the first attacker, a tall leering human, the rippling strips of cloth parted to reveal white underwear that hovered on the edge of existence.

-

Aestra glanced surreptitiously at the other acolytes. Rem was frozen in the act of putting a snack in his mouth, slack jawed. Nozon the Bith, well it was hard to know where he was looking of course, but a thin trail of drool fell from his weird, puckered mouth, so Aestra could make a rough guess. Pola and the servitor friend she'd brought along, similarly dark skinned but with black hair in braids instead of curly and free, leaned against each other and sighed in unison. Everyone else was in a similar state of bliss. The new girl - Exine - hugged her knees and watched wide-eyed. After the trauma of having her colony decimated and being thrown straight into the Rite of Purity, Aestra thought she deserved a break and took a chance on inviting her. Holo evenings were a rare treat; they were the only way off this crappy rock, even if it was in the company of nauseating lightsiders, and all the lucky attendees were sworn to secrecy.

-

Cerillia and Luxor's fighting style was primarily about grace and elegance and even though their technical skills were about as substantial as Cerillia's thong, they defeated the lackeys one by one. Eventually only the Gungan was left, weaponless and quivering with fear at the point of the goldsaber. Aestra leaned forwards in anticipation. The most ridiculously gory ends were always reserved for any Gungans among the bad guys, for obvious reasons.

Luxor brought the tip of the goldsaber closer to the face of the terrified Gungan.

"Luxor," Cerillia cautioned, the only obvious sign of battle a single strand of hair hanging across her face. "This is not the way of the Force!"

The master relaxed and withdrew the saber a fraction.

And then lunged forward! Stabbing the glowing blade through the neck of the servant of the Dark Side, Luxor made a series of quick slices through the torso of the Gungan, up and down its length. He gripped its neck in his meaty fist as its eyes rolled back and tongue lolled horribly.

"For Daphne," the Jedi growled and used the Force to jettison /fling the head out into the desert. It arced across the darkening sky, trailing behind it a single long strip of flesh and bone that sprayed gore as the rubbery body of the gungan unraveled into a ribbon of carnage, carved by Luxor's saber.

-

"Nice," Aestra chortled. She had to admit that Luxor had his moments, despite being - against all likelihood - a Jedi.

Nozon squawked something excitedly and fist bumped Fen-rit.

"Not if Tor does it to you first," said Rem.

"Wonder what Xate would have done if I'd ended Arun like that," mused Aestra.

"Given his golden girl a pat on the back," Rem muttered.

She huffed and nudged into him gently, but he ignored her, keeping his focus on the holo. Rem still hadn't forgiven her for walking away without a word after he'd torn something in his ankle during Tor's final attack. Making his way to the med bay alone had been a long, painful struggle. A shoulder to help take some of the weight off would have been welcome, but he understood, of course, that this was not the way of the Sith. Understood, yes. Happy about? No. Should she have helped? Would that, in its way, have been a bigger fuck-you to Tor than trying to pretend that he'd misjudged her, that Rem wasn't a point of weakness at all, when they both knew the truth.

Was Tor smarter than she'd given him credit for, and his move was intended to rob her of allies as well as hurt, in which case she'd walked straight into it. But that would fail; she and Rem were still allies, weren't they? Not friends, no, because what was a 'friend' to a true Sith? There was no such thing: Sith could have no emotional bonds other than hate and desire, and she felt neither of those for Rem. Affection was weakness, an unreasonable attraction founded on the shifting sands of emotion rather than hard reality, and had no place in the life of a Sith, which she aimed to be, soon. She and Rem were allies, yes, assisting each other for mutual gain. Not 'friends'.

She looked over at him. He was watching the holo with a completely boneheaded expression on his face, bewitched by Cerillia, who watched Luxor with a horrified expression while the winds twisted sheer fabric around her. Aestra couldn't help but roll her eyes and huff. Was the woman really that attractive? She was conventionally beautiful, in a standard, virtuous, lightsider kind of way, Aestra had to agree, but were Rem's tastes so conventionally boring? It was no surprise that most of the acolytes had fallen for her charms, but him? He'd never expressed his preferences (and nor had she to him), but she'd always thought it would be for something less ordinary, someone that went their own way, not straight for such an obvious, half dressed, flesh revealing, attention grab. Aestra folded her arms and rearranged her legs into a more comfortable position. There was a still a lot to learn about the boy from Taanab.

-

Massacre concluded, Cerillia surveyed the carnage surrounding her with wide eyes and raised her hand to her mouth. She turned away from Luxor, revealing a number of painful looking gashes and burns that marked her body, inflicted by the vibro-whip wielded by a sadistic, beskar-armoured cyborg. Not to worry though; such injuries were a regular occurrence, required to set up another naked bacta tank scene in which she would stretch and writhe in 'ecstatic healing' in a beautifully lit laboratory, to emerge dripping wet and announce breathlessly that she was "ready for action". Luxor and the other Jedi would take it in turns to watch over the healing process, mutter about vows, sweat, and look conflicted. Even the med-droids perspired.

Luxor, for his part, fell to his knees and pleaded with the stars for guidance on how to stay on the Jedi path, a terrible anguish twisting his handsome features. He had one of these 'lapses' every couple of episodes and nothing ever seemed to come of it. Cerillia and the other members of the J-Team would forgive him, the great and wise Jedi council would write it off as another misstep on his path, a quick pep talk from Yoda, and they were off to the next slaughter / planet in need.

-

Aestra seethed at the hypocrisy every time. She couldn't help herself, even though she knew Master of Hearts wasn't a strictly accurate historical document. One thing it got right though was that the 'Guardians of Peace and Justice in the Galaxy' were nothing more than a bunch of pampered, privileged bullies, perverting the Force and then wringing their hands at having to hunt down and massacre any true followers that dared show their faces.

She grabbed a handful of snacks and ate them down. Not as good as nuna rolls. It had been stupid to sound off to Trin like that, but she'd had enough of watching Princess Padawan and her gorgeous friends looking miserable and whining about their fantastically glamorous lives, playing at being Jedi while the Republic funded their parties and threw all its resources behind them.

She'd tried to stay quiet and play along, but when Trin mentioned Exegol... Aestra barely remembered what she'd said to that. She hoped it hurt though. She hoped her words had hit home and given the lightsider pause. Made her think about what they had done in service of Peace, Justice and the Light. But they probably hadn't, so sure were the dogs of the Republic that they were right, and that darksiders and anyone associated with them were vermin to be exterminated without respite or compassion. It was as it had always been. Two sides hell-bent on destruction.

If it wasn't for the revelation right at the end, just before Trin had pushed her out, that the padawan had translated the icons, then Aestra might have considered never making a connection again. But there it was: she was going to have to suck it up and make apologies, as repugnant as that would be, and try to blame it on the alcohol. Just imagining that conversation left a nasty taste in the mouth, but if it could get her into the Temple, she could swallow it. Could it really be true that the girl had figured it out already, or was she just screwing with her? Aestra had to find out. An ally and a source of information on the opposition - Trin might be infuriating, but she was useful.

-

Now that his henchbeings had been dispatched, Darth Sear revealed himself. The Sith Lord was something of a cross between Sidious and Vader. Literally: he was divided straight down the middle, one half of his body wizened and malformed, the other encased in shiny black plasteel, all of it wrapped in the customary black robes. He quickly zapped Luxor with Force Lightning, and suspended Cerillia in mid-air, in a nasty Force Choke.

Sear held out one hand to the fallen Luxor, who was still smouldering from the lightning attack, and not in a sexually suggestive way.

"Join me," he hissed, "And I shall spare her."

"Luxor... no..." Cerillia managed to croak.

"Give in to your true nature, my apprentice," the Dark Lord's voice was rich and hypnotic.

"Never again," the master hauled himself to his feet and looked into the Sith's sickly yellow eyes. "I will never join you." He raised his chin and puffed out his pecs. "I am a Jedi."

"Then perhaps someone else can persuade you," Sear cackled, and raised a hand to levitate a woman onto the roof by his side. She was clad solely in a variety of shiny black straps and buckles. Black lipstick and a lot of smokey eye, which accentuated her cloudy, glazed-over orbs, completed the Sith-on-a-night-out look.

"I serve... the Dark Side..." her lifeless voice whispered.

"Daphne!" cried Luxor Lucent into the night as Sear cackled with glee.

-

Nice one Sear, smiled Aestra. She imagined Trin, similarly trussed up and reduced to a puppet of the Dark Side, ready to do her Mistress' bidding. What a feather in her cap that would be. Inferna would have no choice but to anoint her ascension. Now that would be a fitting end for the Princess Padawan.

Chapter Text

Trin felt the heat of Teela's glare as the mirialan walked back to her starting position in the formation, a few steps in front of Trin and to the right of Jerik. As the saber wielders in this team, this 'combat cluster' - a term Trin was learning to hate - it was their job to land the strikes that would earn them the victory. On paper they were the strongest saber combination here, but this morning, the practice wasn't meeting the theory. Teela had just taken a painful strike on the arm from Sarin, who smiled at her (but if Trin were being less charitable, it looked more like a smirk) from across the hall, and Trin sensed she was about to get the blame for that.

So what had gone wrong? And what could she fix in the seconds before the next round?

She was tired, on edge, and having a bad day. Last night's revelations followed by the drama with Aestra had resulted in barely any sleep between then and now. That little spat had been the cherry on top of a stressful evening. Inviting her had seemed like a good idea at the time, when the expectation was that the evening would be full of food, drink and socializing, but it had gone badly wrong, for reasons Trin still wasn't certain of. It was a reminder of how little she knew about Aestra and that she needed to be more careful where she would 'meet' the strange girl from... whatever corner of the galaxy she lurked in.

Trin had tried to talk to Teela after that, but her friend had stood, arms folded, leaning against the balustrade, cool and evasive as she turned the ampule in her fingers and told Trin not to worry. The words to unlock her wouldn't come, and they were interrupted a few times before Trin retreated and left to wander the twisting alleys in the general direction of home, trapped in a fog of wine and anxiety about Sith, Sarin, Enhancers, Teela, everything. Vivid, uncomfortable dreams had provided no rest but were the only respite from tortured tossing and turning until dawn and the start of an unwelcome day. Trin had risen late, arrived late, and been run through and sliced to pieces in a crossfire of sharp looks when she hurried in. Normally her tardy entrances were greeted by sighs and rolled eyes, not veiled aggression. Had they been worried that she was absent because she was with the masters, blowing the whistle on the enhancers? And did that mean they'd all slept on it and decided they were solidly behind using them?

Worry about them later! Focus.

Too late with the shield, Trin chided herself. So Teela had taken a Push from Osin-ree, which led to Sarin getting the hit on her, and now we're another point down. She had committed to a telekinesis attack, which had been blocked, and she'd not been able to switch fast enough to a different skill.

Switching was still Trin's biggest weakness, and Osin knew it, so she knew her attacks didn't need to be particularly powerful, just well timed, and a feint could go a long way. Trin shook her head. She was improving, but some of the other students were ahead of her. The first few days of fighting in clusters had been chaotic, but now the stronger students were settling into it and finding what worked. She was going to need to pick up her game just to keep pace.

And if she couldn't? Fahn clearly intended herself, Jerik and Teela to be one of his 'A' teams (the other being Sarin, Hyri and Osin-ree, opposite them). Might he replace her with someone else if she couldn't improve soon enough? The prospect brought an anxious flutter to her stomach: she instinctively wanted to be the one to protect her friends, but what if that wasn't her path? What if someone else could do it better, and her destiny lay somewhere far away from the academy, light sabers, fights to the death, and the people she loved.

But she was never going to give anything but her best. She wasn't going to deliberately fail, humiliate herself and let them down. A familiar feeling swept over her, of fighting to keep her head above water while being carried along by a current that was too strong to fight, too swift to swim against, hurtling helplessly towards a waterfall that was beyond her view, but she could feel lying in wait ahead, distant but growing closer. And with it the knowledge that if she went with the flow for long enough, then she would find herself at the drop, too late to stop herself, too late to do anything but be swept over the edge to fall to her doom.

She would see Fahn at the earliest opportunity, and talk things over with him. Perhaps he would have a solution, one that didn't mean leaving the Academy entirely. There, decided, done.

Back to the contest. Trin straightened up and tried to focus. Was she too predictable? Osin had anticipated the telekinesis - that was where it had started to go wrong. Should she mix up her attacks more?

Push and Shield were most often used: a simple offense and defense, but there was value in timely use of Valor, to give everyone a boost, or Battlemind as a last resort in the endgame (it left everyone too drained to be used at any other time). Telekinesis could be a useful offensive weapon if there were any loose objects that could be fired at opponents, but it was highly dependent on the environment and a little hard to practice. Most illusions were taxing, and tended not to work well on Force users, but even creating a fleeting moment's hesitation and confusion with Fear or Malacia (disorientation) could be valuable. Fahn encouraged them to have 2-3 simple go-tos they could use at any time, and practice sequences, like a combination of punches.

As Force wielder, she needed to be in tune with the flow of the fight: did her comrades need to be shielded, or would offense be the best defense? If she was confident they had an edge in the saber, then going all-out against the opponent Force wielder should reduce the battle to three one-on-ones and a quick victory. If the opposing team were strong saber fighters, then a more balanced approach was needed.

At least she would get the time to practice; other classes had been reduced to a minimum, and Trin suspected that was just to keep up appearances. They were being prepared, though the masters had remained silent about what may lie ahead. She spotted Master Fahn pacing the edge of the hall accompanied by Master Jak, a stocky, dour Corellian with a craggy face and blonde hair. Both of them observed the padawan intently, occasionally stopping to murmur a few words to each other. Was she imagining it or did Fahn actually look a little stressed? That was a first.

Teela stood in her starting position and turned to Trin, "Think you can give me some cover this time?" She kept her voice down, but there was no mistaking her annoyance.

"Yeah. Ready," Trin replied and assumed the stance, practice saber lit and ready. As the primary Force wielder, she shouldn't need to use the weapon often, but still needed to be prepared.

"You've got this," Jerik said to her with a wink, "Let's go."

Teela and Jerik were in formation, their backs to Trin. Teela had been on fire earlier - in the one-on-ones she'd been all over Dorden, and now in the clusters she was pushing Sarin hard, but he was a tough opponent. And he'd taken the enhancer also.

Ten paces away, Sarin and Hyri faced them, sabers ready, and behind them Osin-ree was poised and eager. Hyri was the academy's dark horse, unassuming, quiet and efficient. A human from Coruscant, she was tall and lanky, with olive skin and braided dark hair.

"Ready," called Jerik.

"Ready," Sarin replied.

The six Padawan sprang into motion.

Sarin rushed forward, ahead of Hyri. Jerik and Teela advanced together.

Trin kept her distance and watched Osin.

The Twi'lek was going to Push. It had worked before, so she was going for it again.

Trin threw up a Shield between Osin and Teela, sensed the Push striking it.

Jerik and Sarin clashed, sabers blurring. Teela and Hyri still a heartbeat apart.

An instinct. Malacia at Hyri. She focused on the girl, a moment of doubt, of telling herself that Push was the smart choice, flashed through her mind, but she was committed.

The malacia found its target. Hyri staggered and Teela pressed her back.

Sarin fought hard and Jerik retreated, pushed toward her. If she backpedaled to avoid them, that would take her further from Teela. She circled to the right instead and threw up a quick shield in front of her.

The breeze of a Push passing. Osin had tried to hit her, but the messy shield had done its job.

Jerik and Sarin were now to her left. A lunge at Sarin with the saber, and the distraction was all Jerik needed, landing a stab to the abdomen. Sarin winced.

At the same moment, a cry of frustration from Hyri. Teela had used the advantage created by the malacia and struck a solid blow to the girl's hip.

They'd won the round in just a few seconds.

And with the victory came a sensation Trin had become accustomed to, of being torn in two by the satisfaction of a challenge well met, and a twinge of fear at advancing further towards a place she didn't want to be.

"Well played Trin," Sarin grinned at her, "And Teela. Strong in the Force this morning?"

"Yeah, I think so," Teela walked towards them with a little swagger in her step, "Particularly strong this morning."

"Excellent," Sarin nodded and held her gaze.

Trin glanced at Jerik and found him looking directly at her, unsmiling. Message received. These events deserved some discussion over lunch, coffee or wherever they could get some privacy.

She spotted Per-Elle and Dorden walking over, their match completed. Both had their attention on Teela and immediately struck up conversation with the mirialan, talking in low, conspiratorial tones.

The twelfth bell sounded, resounding across Orrea from its tower at the midpoint of The Ring - the ancient circular construction that projected out of the mountainside. "Class dismissed," Fahn announced.

Jerik caught Trin's eye again and nodded towards the exit. Ok, ok, food and a chat. They couldn't just leave without their usual lunch-mate though.

"Teela. Coming?" Trin said.

Teela glanced over, "Go on, I'll catch up." She resumed talking with Per-Elle and Dorden, Sarin joining them.

Perfect. Time to get Jerik all to herself before tucking into hot Noryath meatbreads.

Chapter Text

They walked in silence until the Academy was out of sight, around a corner, and they were in the midst of midday traffic, the usual eclectic mix of on and off-worlders, here to trade, sell, work, see the sights or just be near the temple. The sun beat down to bathe them in one of the few remaining tastes of summer, and Jerik had removed his combat tunic to reveal a tight white t-shirt that Trin had to admit he looked good in. He always suited the simple classics.

Still, Jerik didn't seem his usual self. His fingers played with a buckle on the canvas bag thrown over one shoulder and the pensive look he wore suited him considerably less well than the t-shirt.

"Come on. Out with it," Trin said.

"I could say the same to you."

The two of them squeezed carefully past a group of bulky Houk laborers that were arguing amongst themselves in the middle of the path, and in doing so scraped past a wall covered in hanging plants and purple izil flowers that dripped down from beds above. On impulse Trin plucked one and presented it to him. "Izil for your thoughts?"

Jerik smiled in spite of himself.

"I have a bad feeling about these developments," he said with a sigh.

"No shit. Honestly I'm still reeling from it all."

Jerik ran his fingers through his hair, nervously tidying the dark tufts. "Well, what about Teela for a start."

"Yeah," Trin exhaled, "it's not so much that she's taking this stuff, it's that she jumped on it. Like she didn't care."

"Or that any risk was worth it."

"So is it? Worth it?"

"I don't like it, but," he took a breath, "If it helps us win the war, then yes."

"You love a direct solution," Trin nodded knowingly.

"You know me so well," he grinned, "Simple and direct. That's how I like to deal with most things in life." Trin felt him glance at her and look away, "Mostly, anyway..."

"Your little speech last night," Trin pulled her long blonde hair out of the band that had held it tight during combat, so it could instantly spring into its naturally unruly state. "Very stirring. Inspirational even."

"Thank you," Jeriks eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in suspicion, "I sense a 'but' coming."

"And you know me so well," Trin laughed, "But, you said we have to be prepared to die fighting for the Light."

"I meant it. I know it's asking a lot, but it's what generations of Jedi before us have done."

"So even if this stuff kills us, we should take it, if not taking it means defeat."

"Is it really that black and white?" Jerik looked uneasy, "I hope not."

"I don't know what to hope," Trin said, "I mean, shit, I don't like this, but I have to hope it works, because then we're all better fighters. We kill the darksiders, win the war. Peace and Justice reign over the galaxy thanks to the heroes of Tython academy. Yay."

"It almost sounds as if you don't want that."

"I never know what I want. That's my problem. I mean, Peace and Justice, of course. War with the darksiders, no. But if that's the only way to Peace and Justice..." she threw her hands up in exasperation, "Gods above, I don't know."

"Stick around," Jerik smiled and nudged into her playfully, "Some simple directness might rub off on you."

"I wish," Trin nudged him back, "Come on. Peace and justice can wait till after meatbreads, and I want a good seat this time."

Chapter Text

She had to open the door. It led somewhere, to something important, she could feel it.

Aestra reached out and touched its rough surface, surveyed its edges, contemplated the icons carved into the stone yet again, but experienced no new insight. How the fuck had that Lightsider figured it out? In just a day or so, no less. Or was she just screwing with her? When Trin had come out with the revelation, they'd already been parting on bad terms.

Above and behind her, on the cracked, jagged plains, hovered the grav-lift. No gnort today, just a couple of pygmy tortons, and she was lucky to get that. The lack of gnorts was for the best anyway - without Rem to help, it would have been a struggle to maneuver one onto the lift. His messed-up ankle kept him back in the colony and meant she had the surface to herself, which was perfect; she really didn't want to have to explain any of what was about to go down.

She was going to have to contact Princess Padawan again. There was no getting around it. If the girl really had figured how to open this thing, then Aestra had to know. She would have to contact her, feed her some bullshit about how the booze made her do it, you guys are all so amazingly cool that it messed with my emotions, you're so awesome, please forgive me, blah, blah, blah, gag, gag, gag. Could she throw up when semi disembodied? If she could, then it better be right down the front of Trin's crispy clean white Jedi uniform.

Aestra sat in front of the door, wriggled around until the bonier bits of her backside settled into slightly less uncomfortable depressions in the rock, closed her eyes and reached out with the Force.

—

Weary feet trod a familiar path through twisting, cobbled alleys, the white stone curves of the Lanes bathed in twilight. Back home to a dinner of ghoba rice and leftovers of kulkan meatpie, some relaxation - she was getting into "Sith and Son", an old static by Nightsister Talzin - and an early night. And there was some Jogan fruit pie left over from a few days ago. Trin could taste it already. That would be a nice treat, just a sweet little something to compensate for the difficulties of the day.

An early night would normally mean an early start and a run through crackling carpets of gold and auburn leaves, deep breaths of crisp morning air energizing her, ready to meet the day. But

Trin hadn't basked in the light of a morning sun splintered by foliage into a million dazzling rays, for some time. Certainly not since the days became full of combat and fitness training; she needed all of her strength for those.

As she rounded a corner, her apartment only a few paces away, she felt it, like a change in a note that had always been playing, unnoticed. A shift in the tone of the universe.

Aestra was with her again.

Trin walked on. They'd not parted well, Aestra becoming inexplicably abrasive. Let her make the first move.

Hi.

"Hi," Trin replied.

So, about the other night.

She waited for it.

Sorry. The alcohol got to me.

"Hmm, ok."

I'm not used to it. Everything seemed messed up and weird.

Well, wine could do that, she supposed, but still. "Play-jedi?" that one stung, hitting a bit too close to home.

That was a bit harsh.

It's just... you're all so good looking and talented, living your glam life on amazing Tython. Do you even realise how you look to someone like me, slaving my arse off in a bottomless pit, in the shit end of the galaxy, going nowhere?

"I guess," Trin sighed. Every so often, usually when on a night out with everyone, she would have an attack of self-awareness and with it the realisation of how they must look to an outsider; a hand-picked elite, endowed with magical powers and abilities that set them apart from normal people. While everyone else was concerned with getting food on the table and credits in their account, padawan had no such worries. They were destined for a life of significance, a place in a pantheon of heroes. Jedi inhabited a parallel galaxy.

"It's easy to forget when it's just..." Trin waved her hand in the air, "...everyday life."

It's just a bit hard to take you seriously as these righteous, heroic jedi warriors.

"Yeah, yeah, ok." Trin stopped walking, the energy deflated out of her. She had it good, she knew. But all that privilege couldn't protect her from the rainy days that blew into every life.

Anyway, I shouldn't have said that. Sorry.

"Ok. Forgiven."

But you guys are a bit much. A smile tickled the back of Trin's mind.

"I know," Trin sighed and started walking again, "Maybe we are just playing at being jedi. I don't know if we've got what it takes. I don't know about me anyway."

I'm sure you're doing your best. So we're good, again?

"Yeah, we're good," Trin smiled, "I just know you can't handle your wine."

I'm just not a hardened alcoholic like you.

So...the door. You figured it out?

"Oh yeah, that. I went to the archives and decoded those icons."

Wow. Fuck. I'm in front of the door, right now.

"Oh," Trin exclaimed, brought up short just a few steps from her apartment, "I'm outside my place. I'll get in and - whatever you call it - 'contact' you."

Fabulous. I'll be waiting.

Trin presented herself to the door, which unlocked and allowed her to enter the apartment. Lighting set into the walls and floor faded up as she threw her bag onto the seating against the wall and walked on into the sleeping chamber to flop down onto her bed. She gazed up at the white, rounded ceiling, did her best to still herself and get into a comfortable position, and closed her eyes.

—

Aestra's eyes snapped open as she returned to cold, metallic air, her chilly, nanocling wrapped backside on uneven rock, and the door before her. Her heart thumped in her chest. Unreal. Maybe the Lightsider really had done it. She seemed very confident, but the proof would be in the opening.

She felt Trin a moment before she heard her.

Hi

"Hey."

Ok, so this is it.

Aestra looked deliberately at the door, directing her eyes to the edges and icons. To give Trin a bit more context, she turned to look behind her, at the grav lift and the slope that led down to where she stood.

"You can see it's a bit below the surface. I must have passed nearby dozens of times before I noticed it." She turned back to the door.

So these are the icons. Cool. The Archives had everything I needed to understand them, but they're so protective of Sith stuff. Terrified one look will turn us into raging, homicidal, Dark Side maniacs.

Of course they'd be worried that these pampered kids might see the true nature of the Force and stray from the path of lies they'd laid out for them. "The Dark Side," Aestra gasped, suitably appalled, "I'm sure you would never turn."

Better Jedi than I have. I think they worry too much though.

"Ok." Let's get this back on track. "So... what do the icons mean?"

It's Massassi, or near enough. Ancient, but for Sith it was quite trendy to have it inscribed on your temple, instead of High Sith, so I think we're looking at a Sith temple, or construction of some kind.

Massassi, of course. The colony probably had the books somewhere, but the library, such as it was, was a mess.

Honestly though, I'm not sure it's going to help you.

"What do they say?" gods and stars, would this girl get to the point?

It says that under each icon, embedded inside the door is a part of a key, and they all need to be united in the center to open it. I'll guess that means the center of the circle the icons make. So it's basically impossible to open unless you're a Force adept and know Massassi.

Of course it would require the Force to open. That made perfect sense. Aestra could see where this was going, and felt a glow of satisfaction in the knowledge that she'd already worked out a story to cover this eventuality.

I'll try to use the Force through your body. I have no idea if it will work. It wouldn't be easy even if I was there, so no promises.

Would that work? Aestra had no idea either; their situation was so different from anything she had knowledge of. The Force connected them, no doubt, but would it permit one to use it remotely? She waited a moment, curious to see what would happen.

There it was - a surge in the Force, out of nowhere. Only weak though, searching for focus. She wasn't making this happen, so it had to be down to Trin. That meant it was possible to channel the Force while in the other's body, though it might take some practice. Useful to know. But it wasn't going to open this door.

"Wait," Aestra announced, "I have a feeling. A sense of something powerful inside me." She cringed inwardly a little. Those weren't the words she'd planned to use, but Master of Hearts and Cerillia's trademark double-entendres were still buzzing in the back of her mind. That wasn't exactly how she'd intended to put it, but she had a feeling she'd slipped into one of Cerillia's typically suggestive lines.

She reached out to the door. The Force was in all things. In herself. In the stone of the door. In the voids within the door. In the parts of the mechanism inside. Connecting them all. She sensed it clearly now. This shouldn't have required the Lightsider's help; she should have been able to figure it out herself. She would have, eventually. It was annoying that the girl had provided the key.

"I can feel it," she whispered excitedly, hoping it sounded as if she was having a genuine revelation, "An energy, connecting me to the rock, the planet, the door and what's inside it. Everything."

The Force!

Six small, ceramic cylinders, fitting tight within six shafts cut into the rock. The shafts radiated outward from a space at the center of the pattern. According to the inscription, she would need to move all six cylinders into that central void.

You can feel the Force?

"I can sense the keys," Aestra released an exaggerated gasp, "I'm moving them."

It was a little trickier than Trin had indicated; the ends of the cylinders were shaped in such a way that they would interlock, and this dictated the order in which they needed to be moved to the center. Not a problem though; she had a pretty good view of it all now.

Aestra reached in and used the Force to push the cylinder she reckoned needed to be first. It settled into place in the center of the lock.

You're using the Force! I can feel it through you.

"Trin, this is amazing!" Sucker.

It took only a few moments to do the same with the other five. When the last one clicked into place, there was an agonizing wait for a few seconds, before she felt a soft thump beneath their feet, and the door silently moved into the rock, just a touch.

Aestra reached out one hand and pushed. The door was immensely heavy, but she gave it a good shove, and the stone slab begrudgingly commenced a slow, frictionless glide into a space cut behind it.

You're a Force adept. How?

Showtime.

"I knew I could do it," Aestra breathed in wonder, "I've always known I was special. But I had to keep it hidden, to keep us all safe. I hid it for so long, I'd almost forgotten. Almost."

She had to fight to keep a straight face; Trin would feel it, if she let it slip. She had a story ready to explain this, half remembered from some old static she'd read years ago, somewhere.

You hid your abilities? Why?

"Darksiders would raid our villages looking for new recruits. They were always hunting us. We lived in fear of them. We never knew when they would come."

Aestra hung her head, "My mother was strong in the Force. She managed to keep it hidden all her life and taught me to do the same. My father had died years earlier, so it was just the two of us. She worked really hard to make a life for us. I loved her. She loved me. We were a family."

It was a version of the truth. True enough that Trin would sense her as she felt... something. Something real.

She felt the impulse to hide for some reason, so squatted down into a crouch and bowed her head to let her hair cover her face like a curtain. "One day they came, and started to kill us all. It was horrible. We ran, but not fast enough. She told me to leave her. I couldn't help her, couldn't fight them."

She closed her eyes, her voice a whisper.

"I wish I had though. I wish I'd been strong enough. But I couldn't. I watched her die."

The story from the static was forgotten now, but whatever, she wanted to improvise.

"After that, I was alone, running. I stayed with whoever would help me, or with nobody at all. I remember being hungry, and scared, every day."

Aestra felt wetness on her cheek. She was crying? Shedding a tear or two made it more convincing, right? It had to be convincing, so some tears were just fine.

"Everyone was running, because we were sure they were still looking for us. I was so scared they would find me, and that would be the end of me. I was sure they would. Some days I couldn't believe I was still alive. Some days I wanted to die. Every day, I remembered her."

Oh Aestra.

She straightened up, sniffed and wiped away a tear. Well done Aestra, the tears were a master stroke. you are a natural deceiver. "The colony took me in. I owe them everything. But I still hid my abilities."

You're not alone now. I'm with you.

"You awakened the Force in me." Enough of silly stories. Let's get this back on track. "When you tried to use it through me, I felt it, and I remembered."

The Force brought us together for a reason. This is it. Awakening your abilities. You must be important somehow.

"Maybe what's in there is important," She was convinced of it more than ever. The Lightsider wasn't wrong; the Force had brought them together for a reason. "It feels like it's pulling me in. I lie in bed at night thinking about what's inside. I feel like my destiny is in there."

Let's take a look then.

Aestra pushed the door with both hands, hard as she could.

Chapter Text

It took some effort to get the thing moving, but once it had some momentum the door slid backwards easily, and the strain on Aestra's arms let off. After a few paces there was a loud clunk, and the right edge stopped fast, the stone block pivoting on that side to swing inward like a conventional door and show the way ahead; a featureless passage that matched the shape of the door, cut into black volcanic rock and sloping gently downward. After only a few paces, it vanished into complete darkness.

Did you bring a light?

"Of course," Aestra replied, and fished in the shoulder bag to fetch a light patch. She slapped it onto the center of her chest, just below her neck, and adjusted the beam downward a little. The patch stuck to the nanocling, illuminating the way ahead to reveal more of the same blank, black walls extending onward.

So, we're going in?

Aestra sensed hesitation in Trin's voice. Some trepidation on entering a Sith temple, alone, was appropriate. Hell, she'd been dreaming of this for weeks, and still felt a frisson of fear tingling down her spine, prickling her skin under the 'cling. She, or they, were about to cross a threshold into a place of power that hadn't been disturbed for millennia, and might want to stay that way. A place where beautiful nightmares had been birthed in hate and died in torment and waited patiently for the opportunity to stare into a fresh soul.

"You bet we are." A smile tickled the corners of lips painted shades of night.

Aestra advanced into the darkness, felt the walls of the passage envelop her in a cold, creeping grasp and shivered a little despite the heated bodysuit.

The path continued on a slight downward slope and the doorway shrunk to a bright speck behind them. Eventually the walls receded on either side to expand the width of the passage to a few paces, and the ceiling grew higher.

Wait. What's that?

The featureless expanse of floor was broken by something ahead. Aestra moved closer and saw that it was a pit, sheer sided and apparently bottomless, spanning the width of the passage. A short distance away - seven or eight paces - was the other side of the pit, where the path continued onward into shadows.

"Bit of a jump."

Too far without assistance from the Force, but Force Leaps was a skill she felt comfortable with. She could make it. But how to do that without making the Lightsider suspicious? It didn't matter; she had to get further. There was no way she was turning back now, so if doubts were raised, so be it.

"I can make it," Aestra said.

Seriously? Gravity here doesn't feel so different from Tython. That's a long way.

"I'll try to use the Force."

Force jumps take some learning. You'll mess up your first tries. You were very quick to figure out how to manipulate the lock though...

"Can you help me then?" Aestra said quickly. Best to interrupt that train of thought.

Maybe. I don't know. I wasn't able to focus the Force very well through you before.

"You did though. I could feel it," Aestra insisted, not entirely untruthfully.

I don't know. We should go back. You get something that helps us cross this, and we try again.

"Nah," Fucked if she was turning back now, "I'm going to try it." She peered over the edge of the pit. Pitch blackness all the way to infinity swallowed the light from her patch and gave nothing in return.

Oh shit shit shit.

Aestra walked back from the edge, pacing out her run-up.

Are we really doing this?

"You can drop out if you want."

A few seconds of silence. Had she broken contact already?

No. I'm not going to just let you kill yourself when I might be able to help.

Lightsiders. She had to suppress a mocking chuckle. So noble, and that was always something that could be used against them.

Give me a moment to focus.

Aestra reached the end of a suitable length of run-up, measured it back to the edge, looked at the size of the gap again - still quite a long way - and walked back to her previous mark. She doubted the Lightsider would be able to give any real assistance, but it wouldn't matter; she'd make the jump herself and breathlessly thank Trin, telling the Padawan of Power it was all down to her.

"Ready?" She repositioned the bag on her back and tightened the straps so it was held fast.

As much as I'll ever be.

"Bit more positivity please. I'm about to make a long jump over a bottomless pit."

Aren't you scared?

For a moment Aestra could taste the Padawan's fear as a physical sensation, a sour sweat at the back of her throat. She was mildly surprised the pampered little princess hadn't backed out already; this place was creepily disconcerting even for her, so it must be worse for a Lightsider who believed they were descending into one of the foulest places in the galaxy. To say nothing of facing the high probability of a long drop into oblivion. Trin was doing it for her? That was almost touching, but certainly pitiful. Typical lightsider, all misguided weakness masquerading as virtue.

"Just buzzing," she said, and offered as explanation, "I face death in these mines regularly. Anyway, if I fall, I'm the one that dies, not you."

Are you sure of that?

Aestra hemmed in consideration. "No," she conceded. "Last chance to chicken out."

A pause, then: Do it.

One last big breath. Aestra fixed her gaze on the edge and went for it. No half measures. Don't let the risk intimidate you into weakness. Long, strong strides.

The light patch buzzed on her collarbone, stabilizers doing their best to keep the beam fixed on the passage ahead. The yawning void growing closer, closer.

Foot near the edge. Push off hard and leap.

The Force - now. Her body a sail being filled by its blast, propelling her higher, further.

The edge rushed towards her, fast. An instant of realization: the lighting and featureless flat surfaces had conspired to deceive. It was a pace more distant than estimated. Too far. She was going to fall short. A sickening, shocking disbelief.

Then, an unexpected push, like a strong hand in the small of her back, thrusting her forward, faster.

Her feet hit stone hard, just barely, and she rolled forwards away from the edge to finish in a crouch.

WOOO!!

Trin's elation fizzed like bubbles through her thoughts.

We made it! You made it. I thought you were going to be short I think I helped I could feel it I did help.

The Lightsider was right. She'd screwed up and misjudged it and the fucking play-Jedi had saved her arse with a Push. She would have fallen. Even with help, it was close.

Heart racing, buzzing from the near-death adrenaline rush, Aestra brushed aside some strands of hair that had fallen across her face and took a breath. Get your shit together, girl. It's done, you survived, again.

You were worried as well. I can feel your heart pounding.

"It was closer than I thought," she admitted, ever so casually.

I did help though, right?

"Yeah," Aestra mumbled grudgingly and straightened up, "A bit."

Felt like I gave you a good shove. I think I'm getting the hang of it. Shit, you were so close to the edge.

Trin's exhilaration was like a chaotic, whirling dance brushing up against her mind, bumping into her train of thought. It was actually pretty annoying - could she continue to bear this, even if the girl was a useful idiot?

Aestra looked behind her at the pit.

Do you think we can do it again?

She'd read her mind. "I think we'll have to."

Aestra turned to the passage ahead. No change, no sign of how long it might take to reach anything interesting. How long before they started to miss her in the colony?

"Now we're here, we better make the most of it," she strode forward with purpose; no time to waste.

Onward!

Force sakes. Aestra advanced into the gloom, the light from the patch bobbing slightly with each step.

Chapter Text

They continued into darkness for a few minutes more, the gradient varying from what felt like dead level to a downward incline that stressed her calves after a while. Difficult to judge how long they were taking when there were no milestones in time or space, but at what felt like about ten minutes in, Aestra made a mental note. Another ten, maximum, and she would need to turn back; a diversion of around an hour would surely be noticed, so she should keep it under that. How would she create the time she'd need to explore this place?

What do you expect to find?

Careful. Don't give away any knowledge of Sith, Jedi or their history, beyond what she might have seen in holos. "No idea. You think this place has something to do with Sith, right?"

Well, the icons were Massassi, which doesn't necessarily mean Sith. But it is likely. So we should be wary.

"Sith. Those guys are scary."

Right. Very scary.

A small glow of satisfaction; it was right that the lightsiders found them frightening. Aestra liked the image of Jedi cowering in fear from her, as she had once done from them, a long time ago.

They proceeded in silence as the passage grew wider, then narrower, until Aestra could touch the opposite walls easily. The direction, previously arrow-straight, started to vary, weaving a path through obstructions unseen.

Then a hint of a breeze on her face, a gentle touch.

Did you feel that?

"Yes." Aestra quickened her pace.

The bobbing beam of the light patch revealed that the walls and ceiling came to a sudden stop ahead, the corridor opening into a larger space. Aestra found herself standing at the threshold, peering into blackness, angling her body to project the beam around the void. It revealed nothing, too weak to reach distant ceilings or walls. The air tasted different than on the planet surface; the touch of a scent both musty and biting that she couldn't quite place.

It's huge. Trin breathed, awestruck.

There were a couple of spare lights in the bag. Aestra pulled them out and turned them on to hold one in each hand, trying to combine all three beams into one.

She took a few tentative steps into the space. The passage became a small dark doorway behind her, set into the center of a vast, flat wall of gray stone that soared up to a ceiling that was just barely visible in the lights. The walls on either side were similarly featureless, at the edges of her illumination. The floor extended before them, a wide plain venturing into the unknown, light patches unable to reveal any details ahead.

It was magnificent. A temple crafted by fellow disciples of the dark unknown millennia ago, when they hadn't hidden in fear, but were strong and proud and their achievements glorious. And hers were the first feet to tread its hallowed halls in Force knew how long. Aestra swelled in satisfaction. She was honoured and privileged. This place had been waiting for her.

She closed her eyes and breathed deep, imagining she was drinking in the power of those that had walked these halls before her. Those that had wielded a power with the brute strength to hold dominion over nature on this scale and yet fashion it to their will with a refinement lacking in the crude construction of the terraforming shaft she called home. The temple was a thing of beauty, its perfection in the extremes of scale; visitors would be made to feel insignificant in the face of the vastness surrounding them, and after marveling at such size and distance, could turn to examine the nearest of details in a corner, an edge, and find perfection in every angle and surface. Total control. And all in service of the Force, to craft a temple that expressed the range of its majesty and power, spanning the galaxy yet residing in the smallest of creatures.

She offered a silent prayer to the beings that had created this place of worship, so that-

Are you ok? Why have you closed your eyes?

Aestra started to groan, thought better of it and confined herself to a sigh. "Just resting," she replied through gritted teeth.

Oh, the agony. After weeks of lying awake and dreaming of the moment she could set foot in a Sith temple, here she was. She wanted nothing more than to explore as far as she could walk. But if the Masters found out, the penalties would be severe, to say nothing of further visits being out of the question, and she was pushing her time limit already. If she turned back now, there would be no questions, and she could figure out what she would need for next time. Turning back would be sensible.

A little further.

She walked quickly, but a growing impatience pushed her into a trot, the soft pat of her steps swallowed by the deathly silence that enveloped her and filled the cavernous void. Three bouncing beams of light penetrated the darkness to reveal something ahead, dim and indistinct.

The structure in front of them became clearer. They were approaching the opposite wall of the chamber, and the walls on their left and right stopped a little short of meeting it, creating new passages off to either side. A T-junction.

Within another minute, they were there, at the center of the opposing wall. Aestra turned to her right. The passage that led off the main chamber that way was about ten paces wide and the same soaring height as the rest of the structure. As she walked that way and directed the light patches into the corridor, parts of the left wall of the passage slowly resolved into a different shade and texture from the rest; something was on the wall.

A far-off thump behind them, a single bass beat muffled by distance that Aestra felt through the soles of her feet. She turned to look at the opposite branch of the junction, where the sound had come from.

What was that?

"I don't know." Aestra started off towards the other branch.

Wait. Trin whispered. You're going towards the ominous sound in the temple devoted to death and suffering?

How little these arrogant pretenders knew. "Yes. And you don't need to whisper - only I can hear you."

Ok. Trin whispered again.

Gods above.

You just rolled your eyes.

"I had something in my eye," Aestra muttered.

This is a bit terrifying. You're not afraid?

Was she supposed to act scared at this point? Whatever; she settled for shushing the girl and tutting loudly.

Before long, they reached the mouth of the left branch of the T-junction, where it met the main chamber and continued on. Like the right branch, it was a few paces in width, and its ceiling soared way off into the darkness above them. Aestra stepped over the threshold, into the passageway and froze; in the far distance, the end of the corridor flickered into illumination, a tiny rectangle of light.

Whoa. Did we do that?

Aestra considered the possibility. "Maybe. It came on just as I stepped out of the big hall."

Is there someone, or something, in here with us?

"I'd like to find out."

I'm in two minds about that. Trin was whispering again, but she could be forgiven.

"But I don't have the time," Aestra sighed, resigned.

Phew.

"I reckon it'll take 20 minutes to get back to the surface, at least. We've already taken around 30. If I take too long there could be awkward questions, and I might not be able to come back."

Go. Before you start walking and can't turn back.

"You know me too well already," Aestra tore her gaze away from the distant portal, unable to make anything out but a tiny sliver of white light, and started to jog back across the great hall, towards the doorway they'd entered from.

I'm getting worried - this is the longest we've stayed in touch. What if I can't go back?

"Go now then, if you're so worried."

Jump first.

So sweet, but the lightsider wouldn't be needed this time. After a run back through the twisting passages - and a silent prayer of thanks for all that time spent on fit-machines back in the facility - Aestra found herself back at the pit. She measured the run up as before and stood poised and ready for the leap.

You can do it. We can do it.

"That's the attitude I needed last time," Aestra frowned, "Ready?"

You bet.

This time was easier. The leap better timed, the twin Pushes better directed. Aestra's feet hit stone a comfortable step away from the edge, though the roll forward wasn't as well executed; her right hip collected a knock that was going to bruise.

Nicely done. Right. Here goes-

Aestra felt Trin leave and set off towards the surface and the waiting cart with its load of tortons. She'd made it into the temple, but sensed that this was just the start, that there was some greater destiny within that had called her night after night, and she wouldn't be able to stop until she'd found it.

Chapter Text

Trin opened her eyes to see the ceiling of her bedroom. Everything was as she'd left it - a relief, since this was the longest she'd left her body to be with the girl from the derelict world. What an adventure! She lay there, mind reeling, heart pounding, running through what had just happened, trying to make sense of it.

The leap. Damn that had been terrifying. Who knows what would have become of her if Aestra had fallen and been killed. Would she have died with her, or would the connection have been broken? The girl was either brave or reckless, but definitely lucky to have gotten away with it. Giving that Push to Aestra, getting that focus and executing the ability despite the fear and the distractingly bizarre circumstances, that had been hard, but she'd done it, and oh the feeling of victory when her feet hit solid ground! Barely hit solid ground. Her push had made the difference.

And to think she'd come close to breaking contact rather than risk it. If she had... she imagined Aestra, bloody and broken, lying alone in deathly still darkness, and her heart took a little leap of its own.

Using the Force when not in her own body... she reflected on that a moment. She'd expected it to be difficult, and it had been the first time at the door, but looking back, maybe it was just because of the novel situation disorienting her. It was actually turning out to be quite easy to use the Force at a distance. But perhaps this made sense, because she wasn't at a distance at all. The Force had little to do with physical bodies, and all to do with your mind and soul, and those were with Aestra when they were connected.

The temple. Gods and stars that place was scary. Full of foreboding. An inhuman place, created by beings that had forsaken feeling and emotions, replaced with an all-consuming desire for control and power.

The door. Aestra's aptitude with the force was amazing, considering she'd suppressed her abilities for so long. The feeling that they were destined to meet had been growing, and now the reason was becoming clear. The girl would need guidance as her connection and abilities strengthened, and there was nobody in her life that could provide it. This was why the Force had sought her - Trin - out and presented her with this responsibility. She was being challenged by the Force itself. Did this mean Aestra was a person of importance. If so, why?

And her story was so sad. She'd suffered for so much of her short life, robbed of family and a normal existence, persecuted for her connection to the Force. Another casualty of the Darksiders' cruelty. Trin hadn't seen much of her current life in the mines, but got the impression of hardship and danger.

How Trin could help this lost girl was becoming clearer; she would bring light into Aestra's cold, hard existence, as well as guide her in her new relationship with the Force. Trin lay in the darkening bedroom, eyes wide, warmed and excited by a new sense of purpose.

Chapter Text

Aestra was in the red room again.

The room was the same as always: low and wide, its ceilings and floor black and featureless. Distant walls burned a furnace red, silhouetting the figures that watched her reverently as she stood, still and serene, in command.

The red room was deep underground. She knew this somehow.

She noticed a new figure, apart from the others, back against a wall, as far from her as it could be. It was out of place, and though it was looking at her, the black figure regarded her with a different gaze from the crowd of watchers. More critical.

Its shape revealed no features or details. As she watched it, it stepped forwards-

-

Hard bed. Half light through a grimy pane and chill air on her face. She pulled her blanket closer.

"Arise, my apprentice..." the tones of Darth Sidious cut though slumber like blades in velvet, "The day is as yet unspoiled. Virginal. It awaits the foulness of your touch."

Force above... records of his relationship with Maul, Vader and especially Tyranus were sketchy, but Aestra doubted he'd ever woken any acolyte with those words. Or spoken them, ever. Or endorsed the 'Dark awakenings' sleep management app. Still, the mimicry was flawless, so she could dream.

"Heh, heh, heh..." he cackled at the prospect of befouling a virgin day.

Aestra snuggled under the blanket for a moment, sleepily luxuriating in thoughts of just how bad good old Sheev had fucked those bastards. Right under their noses and they never saw it coming, the smug, complacent fools.

She may never be his equal in grand, devious schemes, but if she could sabotage the padawan from within, that would be a significant step on the path to ascension.

Aestra smiled drowsily under her blanket, imagining what her foul touch might do to such a pure, virginal princess.

—

Fahn's door was half open. That meant he was in his office. Damn. Trin's stomach took a turn - she'd half hoped that he would be away on some duty and she'd be able to postpone yet again. This talk was long overdue, she knew, but it wasn't going to be easy, and the consequences harder still to deal with.

Her stomach rumbled. She was skipping out on lunch with Jerik and Teela to be here, and would need to grab flatbreads from the vendor just outside the academy afterwards.

She knocked gently on the door.

For a few seconds, nothing, and then the master's voice: "Enter."

Trin had never had the opportunity to see his interior of his office before and glanced around as she stepped inside: the room was airy, spacious and bright, its surfaces of white and cream stone flooded with natural light from tall windows that occupied most of the wall opposite the door. The chamber was minimally furnished, a couple of chairs and a small sofa clustered around a low table, a couple of small bookshelves - a retro touch - and an image of the floating cities of the Master's home world of Metellos on the wall to her right.

Master Fahn stood half turned towards Trin with a small cup of coffee in his hand, framed by a sunlit vista of Orrea and the valley visible through the windows. and a smile on his lips. Dressed in simple master's robes, he must have been appreciating the view when she'd knocked, and the padawan felt a twinge of guilt at interrupting his time of private contemplation.

"Trin," he smiled, "What can I do for you?"

"I wanted to talk." She found it hard to hold his gaze, her eyes wandering to the bookshelves. "About my progress at the academy."

"Ah." He seemed pleasantly surprised and indicated the table and chairs, "Please, take a seat."

Master Fahn moved easily to the armchair nearest him, so Trin perched on the small sofa across the table from it, started to wring her hands, stopped herself, waited.

"So," he placed his coffee cup on the table, sat back and steepled his fingers, "what in particular would you like to talk about?"

"There are things I've been struggling with."

"Struggles are to be expected," he nodded, "This is the nature of the Jedi path. It's not supposed to be easy, Trin, though it's all too easy to forget that."

"The Path. Yes. I'm finding it difficult." She was really going to have to spell this out in painful detail to him? She'd half expected him to confirm to her that he already suspected and understood. Her stomach churned again. Fahn was always a picture of Jedi serenity and quiet confidence. He sat there, deep hazel eyes watching her intently, an elegant dusting of grey at the temples, short beard meticulously trimmed. Perfect, handsome even, though she'd never thought herself into older guys. Describing her faults and weaknesses to a man like him was excruciating. She felt herself flush and stopped playing with her fingers again.

Fahn unsteepled his fingers and leant forward, his brow creased as he fixed her with concerned eyes. He was waiting for her to elaborate. Oh stars.

"It's been getting worse, recently," she continued.

"Adjusting to the combat schedule has been testing for all the students Trin," his tone gentle, "be assured that it's not just you that's having problems."

"No, the combat is fine. It's been a lot to get used to, but I think I'm getting there."

"You are," he confirmed, "Your progress has been excellent this term. You've assimilated a variety of new skills and concepts and have arrived at a way of employing them that works well for you. The Force is very strong with you."

"Thank you, but-"

"The combination of yourself, Jerik and Teela will be a valuable asset to the Republic in the future, I'm sure. There are great things ahead for you, Trin."

An 'asset'? What kind of 'asset'? If it was the three of them together, then it could only be combat related. How far in the future then? What kind of 'great things' did he have in mind?

"The future. Right. It's the future I'm not very sure about."

"Few of us are," he smiled.

"Right, but..." gods above, she didn't feel she was getting through. She was going to have to be completely direct. Her cheeks were burning. Trin took a deep breath. "I'm not sure the Jedi order is for me."

"All of us find it difficult Trin," Fahn explained, unfazed, "Even the greatest Jedi have wrestled with the demands placed on them by the order. It's no small thing to dedicate your life to the Force, to learning its mysteries and building a relationship with it. To dedicating yourself to a life of service for the Republic."

Trin looked out to the valley and its peaks. All of her concerns and fears were going to look trivial in comparison to hardships and sacrifices suffered by past Jedi. Did she really have to compete with that to justify leaving the order?

"Is it... attachments, you're having problems with?" Fahn asked, "This is quite often a problem for students of your age."

"A bit," she said, saw Fahn raise an eyebrow and continued quickly, "But it's not like there's any specific attachment that's worrying me. It's just the idea... of giving them all up. Forever. You know?"

"Mmmhmm," Fahn nodded sagely, "But can you understand how this - hypothetical - attachment could be the first step on a path. A path that leads to fear of loss, and the negative emotions that follow."

"Sure, I know that. But this is all hypothetical. Really."

"Mmm."

"I'm not attached to anything."

"Of course."

"Yet."

"I'm not going to pry, Trin. Your path is your own."

"Yes, exactly," let's try again, "and what if my path isn't here, at the academy?"

"Ah," Fahn sighed, "I must admit, I've been half expecting this."

"Ok, good." Trin exhaled in relief.

"You're not the first student to come to me requesting a transfer to Atrisia," he spread his hands in a gesture of resignation, "The isolation in Tython academy isn't for everyone, and with your family in Atrisia, well, I understand-"

"No...," Trin began, but the master's attention was already diverted to the doorway of his office, his eyes widening. She turned to see Master Jak framed in the opening, his face even grimmer than his usual, brows furrowed deeply, mouth tight.

"We've had word." He seemed not to notice her, eyes fixed on Fahn, "It's on."

Fahn looked away to the image of the cities of Metallos, floating free, suspended in a candy toned sunset. He gave a small shake of his head, composure blemished by a slight twist of his mouth that verged on a grimace.

He exhaled and turned back to her, poise restored. "Trin," he explained, "thank you for coming to me and giving voice to your concerns. Unfortunately I have a pressing matter to deal with right now, but we'll take this up again later, I assure you."

Master Jak held the door open and stood aside. Trin stood wordlessly, propelled to her feet by the obvious queue to leave. In a moment, she was back in the corridor outside, the door to Fahn's office closed, and an inaudible discussion taking place within. That hadn't quite gone to plan, but if the master said they'd continue the discussion later, then she trusted that would happen, if she pursued it. She'd tried, anyway, and felt some small satisfaction at taking that step, at setting things in motion and fulfilling a promise to herself that had been dodged for too long.

She headed outside to the comforting chaos of the town, and spicy flatbreads, and wondered what Jak had announced as being 'on'. Whatever it was had shaken Fahn. Gods and Stars above she hoped it was some administrative thing that wouldn't directly affect them. It could be anything, so don't dwell on it, don't be like the rest of the gossips and doom-mongers in the academy. Think of something else.

Her mind turned to Aestra, and what she might be doing right now. Quite likely her work in the mines, which sounded hard and dangerous. So what could Trin do to brighten up such a day?

Chapter Text

Tip yip dumpling...

Aestra considered the option.

Is that like ronto wraps?

"No," Trin sighed.

Mustafarian spread. Is that like ronto wraps?

"No."

Jekka and kashyyyk whitefish casserole. Is that-

"No."

Shit. Those ronto things were really good.

"If I'd known you were such a cheap date, I wouldn't have bothered with Pronghorns."

Trin turned to scan the interior of the restaurant and check that her solo mumbling wasn't attracting too much attention. The place was empty though, which was as planned. It was only half a bell past six, before the busy dinner spell, and she'd managed to snag a table for one at the end of a balcony. Ideal for some privacy, and spectacular views across the valley, which was fading into dusk as the sun sunk further behind jagged peaks. This was partly the point; to bring something special to Aestra's day, some light into her life.

Pronghorns itself was situated on-Arc, built upon the huge and ancient semicircular band of ferrocrete that projected from the mountainside. Spots on the Arc were at a premium, the construction having been fully occupied centuries back by those that could afford it. This made it a suitably prestigious spot for one of the most upmarket eating places in Orrea, rewarding its patrons with uninterrupted views of the surrounding peaks and forests. Trin had even worn the most 'upmarket' dress in her wardrobe, which wasn't saying much, but it was almost formal: dark and short and off the shoulder. Not for Aestra, not to impress her, but to fit in to the environment.

Trin felt a twinge of guilt at what this was doing to her savings as she surveyed the empty eatery, decorated in a vaguely Core, Coruscant style; walls and floors in various shades of cream, angular, non-rectangular doorways, surfaces inlaid with lines of chrome and gold. A secondary guilt twinge followed close after the first; unlike most other students, even if she blew the allowance, she could always call home and beg/request more, and die of humiliation. That wasn't going to happen though, she resolved, and took another sip of Alderaanian red.

I am a cheap date. Aestra protested. I'm not actually eating anything.

Trin chewed this weirdness over. "True," she conceded.

Wait. This is a date?

"Of a sort." It wasn't a date-date, a romantic date, but the intention was to get to know her a bit better, and give her a good time.

I think that makes it my first.

"First date ever is worth a drink." Trin took another sip. The girl really had lived an unusual life.

Don't need much encouragement do you. That stuff goes straight to my head.

"Wow. I knew Alderaanian wine was strong," Trin smiled, "But your head is light years away."

Aestra groaned; a rumble and buzz at the back of Trin's mind.

So this is a date. Not as I imagined it.

Trin glanced around Pronghorns again. "In my limited experience, this is pretty good for any date. What did you expect?"

More blood and screaming. Begging for mercy.

"That's usually the third or fourth date," Trin studied the menu again. "I think I'm getting an idea of your tastes: meaty comfort food. Let me suggest the bantha beef short rib..."

Mmm.

"...and for dessert, the Chandrilian air cake."

That's nice?

"Meh. But it compensates for the bantha, being very low in calories, because: mostly air. They're really getting strict on our fitness. Master Jak said I was looking 'heavy' the other day. Can you believe it?"

The fuck? You're tiny.

"Right. Cheeky bastard." Trin leant back and folded her arms, "If I was a guy he'd think I was looking 'stronger', but I'm a girl so it's just 'heavy'." She'd got a bit louder - blame the wine and Master Jak - so she checked the place was still empty, returned to her glass and took another sip of the red.

"Also, the air cake is cheap, again, being mostly air."

That's the third time you've mentioned the cost. I thought you'd have plenty of money, being a Jedi and all that.

"Padawan. Yeah, we have money, kind of. The academy has money, but a Jedi's life isn't supposed to be full of luxury, so," she gestured around, almost spilling some wine, "This is a special treat."

So why this special treat date. What do you want?

"I'm not looking for anything," Trin said defensively, "It's just, you have a tough life, and bad food, and I wanted to give you something nice."

Trin could almost feel Aestra's eyes narrowing in suspicion.

And yourself, at the same time.

"You got me. So how was life today? Tell me about it. I want to know."

Nothing to tell. The usual. Digging. Mining. Hard work. I need real Bantha or Ronto, not just the second hand taste of it.

"I'm sure there's something you can tell me about the day."

Trin wasn't sure if she heard a sigh, or imagined it, or felt a reluctant breath against her skin, blown all the way from a distant world.

I keep having the same dream. I had it this morning, just before I woke up.

I'm in a place, and it's really dark but the walls glow red, like lava. And I'm surrounded by people watching me, but I can't see their faces.

"Sounds scary."

It's not. You know how you just know things in dreams, even though there's no way you could? I know they're really into me. They love me.

I wouldn't think anything of it, but I keep having it. I feel like it's showing me my future. Like, my destiny. That sounds stupid.

"It's not," Trin said, "You're really strong with the Force. This might be a premonition."

The Force does that?

"It can do."

Then what does it tell you?

Good question. Trin put her glass down and looked out into the evening, into shadows in the darkening forest below. "More and more, I get the feeling that something bad is coming. Something to do with the Dark Side."

Do you worry a lot about the Dark Side?

"Yeah, lately. Everyone does." An image of Master Jak standing in Fahn's doorway, and the fearful expression on his face, invaded her mind's eye.

Do you think you're ready for it? Facing Darksiders.

"Not really. How can we be?"

Does it keep you up at night?

"Sometimes," Trin whispered.

Why?

"The Sith. They're always there. Waiting, watching."

What do you think they want?

"Terrible things..." Trin murmured, and looked into the flame of the candle on their table, watched it twist and turn its luminous dance.

What do you think the Sith will do to you?

"I... "

They could do worse than kill you.

"...can we talk about something else?" This wasn't what she needed right now. She wanted a nice, fun evening with an - admittedly odd - companion.

Ok. They're scary. I should know.

She would. She'd lost more to the darksiders than Trin could get her head around; not just her mother and friends, everyone she'd ever loved, but a life that would have made her someone else, someone warmer, without brittle edges that could be felt worlds away. The need to be closer, to reach through spines and ice to touch the girl beneath; it tugged with increasing strength the more of the picture was uncovered and Aestra was revealed. But would her fingertips feel the beat of a heart in time with hers, or a thing too cold and hard to thaw, left too long in frigid dark.

Trin shivered. There was a light breeze on the exposed balcony, and the dress left a lot uncovered.

"Let's order."

—

That's disgusting.

Trin licked sticky sweet Chandrilian occa sauce from her fingers one by one.

Can you just wipe them on the napkin please.

Trin sniggered and inserted her index finger into her mouth up to the second knuckle, sucked it, rolled her tongue around it.

Urrgg. This is torture.

A sixth sense warned her that she was being observed, prompting a quick glance into the restaurant interior. Her eye caught that of the young waiter loitering nearby. Trin tutted and frowned at him, as his gaze snapped to the wall opposite, a picture of professional disinterest.

I'll let you off because those ribs were so good.

"Told ya." The way to Aestra's heart was definitely through her stomach.

Trin's gaze wandered outwards into the night, and caught an uneven line of lanterns picking its way slowly through the trees on the opposite side of the valley: hunters returning home.

You're so lucky, living here.

"I guess," she sighed.

Definitely. You lead a bit of a charmed life don't you.

"Suppose I do. Up till now, anyway." The image of Master Jak in Fahn's doorway, the look in his eyes and the effect it had on Fahn came again, unbidden.

Lucky Princess.

I have to get back. We should meet up to go into the temple again. I'll be there tomorrow, in about... sixteen standard from now.

"I don't know," Trin shuffled uncomfortably in her seat, "A Sith temple. Who knows what kind of evil shit could be in there?"

Or what amazing shit.

"Dangerous shit. Maybe there's a good reason they forbid us from having anything to do with Sith artifacts, let alone dig around in temples."

You're chickening out? I've got to do it myself?

"I'm just saying, think about it. Why do you need to go in there? What do you want to find?"

A moment of silence.

Don't tell me what to do, Princess Padawan. I'm going in there again, with or without you.

"Whoa. Take it easy." Where did that come from? Why did Aestra have to be so prickly and volatile and give a nice dinner an unhappy ending? Trin took a breath. "Let's go home, sleep on it."

I have to go in.

"Ok, ok. Stars. Sorry I mentioned it," Trin muttered, "Call me later, tomorrow."

And Aestra was gone.

Trin pushed her chair back and made her way out of the restaurant, avoiding the gaze of the waiter, who she suspected was furtively watching for a repeat of the finger sucking episode. Why had Aestra made such a big deal of being challenged about the temple? When they were exploring it, had she said something about her destiny being within, or had she only mentioned destinies in connection to the dream? They were tied together, but she wasn't an easy friend to have; this wasn't the first time they'd parted badly.

Walkways on-Arc were narrow canyons threading a path between the high walls of plush private houses, discreetly well appointed offices and other places associated with wealth and status. The only illumination came from that which spilled out between gates, fences and interiors. Trin walked the alleys absently, thoughts of sith, temples and her interrupted meeting with Fahn, swirling in a fuzz of Alderaanian red.

"They could do worse than kill you."

And Aestra would know. Trin shivered again and quickened her pace home.

Chapter Text

Feet apart, legs straight, Left hand on hip, right hand up high, and bend from the waist to the left. Feel the stretch all the way down that right side. Breathe.

Aestra held the position for ten, and switched to the other side.

The other acolytes, assembled before the loading bay gates to await the start of the day's training, settled for the usual skulking, glares and muttered threats. Admittedly a more traditional darksider start to the day than stretching exercises, but Aestra had decided to make a change. Gone were Sidious' hackneyed exhortations; she would now awaken to "Laments of the Nightsisters" which was actually a lot more uplifting than might be expected.

It was the new girl, Exine, that had put her up to that. Popular in her colony, she'd said. Her old place sounded wonderful: better supplied and more than double the size of the facility. But they thought they were safe, got sloppy, and it was all undone in one day of shit and terror thanks to The Third Republic, and some pseudo-Jedi thugs.

"He's coming over," Exine licked her lips and pushed some flyaway strands of black hair away from her face to stand a little straighter in her dark leggings and loose-fit, charcoal gray top with scarlet trimmings. By her side, Rem groaned.

"Good,"Aestra said, "He was glaring so hard he was going to do himself an injury."

Cozor slunk in Aestra's direction. A slender, athletic dathomirian wearing a heavy dark wrap around cloak (was he copying her? cloaks were her thing), light grey skin sparingly marked with jagged black tattoos. Pale blue eyes provided the only splash of color in a face topped by a crown of silver horns. He'd been buds with Arun, the dathomirian she'd dispatched (brilliantly) in the duel a few days back, so that might explain the glares and whatever was coming next.

He stopped a pace away, looking her up and down in obvious contempt while she carried on stretching.

"Arun could have been twice the Sith," he shook his head, "If we duel, you won't get lucky a second time. You'll die groveling at my feet."

Aestra put her palms together and stretched up as far as she could, raising her chin high enough to look at her hands and the dirty ceiling panels above. She wasn't sure of the warm-up value but imagined it must look pretty sexy. "You're all the same," she said, "Don't know if you want to fuck me or kill me."

He sneered. "I'd enjoy both. A lightsaber through your gut and fuck your dying body."

"So I could die laughing? Sweet, but Mercy is for the weak."

He moved closer and leaned in. Ice chip eyes fixed on hers. "I'd come as the last breath left you," he whispered.

"How romantic," she whispered back. "But I doubt you'd last. Takes more than five seconds to die of a saber through the gut. Just ask Arun."

Her eyes widened in mock surprise, "Oh wait, you can't." She burst into a suppressed snigger.

Cozon's lip curled into something that was almost a smile. "Fuck you, Aestra. I can't wait to see you fall. It's going to be soon."

With one last dismissive snort, he withdrew to stalk away. Aestra quit stretching to turn to Rem and Exine.

"Some girls get all the luck. He could fuck my - very slowly - dying body, anytime." Exine said, watching Cozon amble over to Tor.

Rem made a face. "Seriously. Cozon?"

Aestra regarded him over her shoulder. "Yeah, he's a sweetheart."

"I'm not usually into nice guys, but I'd make an exception for him." Exine said.

Rem shook his head and looked to the stars.

"Bad boys more your thing?" Aestra asked.

"Yeah," Exine looked into space and sighed a sigh that drifted on a feather bed of sweet promises, brutally broken, "Can't keep away. Sometimes I wonder if that's what originally drew me to the dark side."

Aestra frowned and studied her face, assessing whether she was serious. The new girl was an odd one for sure. "So," she ventured casually, "You'd be into Tor, then."

Her eyes were drawn to the menacing dark bulk, stood in a corner, muttering with Cozon. Tor was wearing a black cling today, tight and sheer enough to show the veins in his artificially enhanced musculature. He'd eschewed the usual chest control panel in favor of leather straps that criss crossed his bulging pecs and abs to terminate wrapped around mighty thighs.

"Yeah. Hot."

"Fuck!" Aestra exploded in disgust, "I was only kidding! Tor?" She shook her head in disbelief, "You're too screwed up to be a darksider."

Exine shrugged and smiled. "I'm not sure he's into girls, anyway."

Aestra eyed the straps and bulges again.

"I know what you mean. You should have been at Klub Korriban-"

She paused at a touch on her arm, and looked over to see Rem giving her a minute shake of his head.

"-Another time," she concluded.

A screech of metal drew everyone's attention to the loading bay doors as they started their slow grind open. Another day, another training session to start it off. Stay sharp, get through this in one piece, and lunch would be the reward: Pola had said that minced, un-named, bits of gnort would be mixed in with blended bugs. Normally that would be something to look forward to, but-

A tension pulsed through the assembled acolytes, and Aestra peered over someone to see the cause: on the other side of the doors was not the usual wide open space, but five councilors, watching and waiting in their plain grey robes. Dziet stood to one side, tall and serene in a flowing black gown, blank silver orbs directed towards the students.

Xate finished sliding the doors open. "Acolytes," he indicated the space in front of the Councilors, and the students dutifully shuffled into three ranks as one of the colony leaders, a stocky human male, cleared his throat.

"Acolytes," he announced in a low rumble, "You are fortunate. You are to be granted an opportunity to demonstrate your worth to the Force and our noble struggle against the defilers."

The surge in adrenaline level in the room was palpable. Aestra felt her heart quicken. Force be kind. An opportunity was all she needed.

"A cluster of Force sensitives has been discovered and must be defended. We shall rescue them from the clutches of the Republic and relocate them here, so that they may be enlightened in the ways of the Force and the true nature of their abilities."

"You are ready to face this challenge. You shall accompany your Masters on this mission. Do not fail us."

"Yes!" Her delight was too strong to contain, the exultation bursting free louder than intended, propelled by the power of victory and a wish coming to fulfillment at last. "Fuck yes."

She heard suppressed exclamations of triumph, saw fists being pumped and prayers offered by the rest of the acolytes. By her side, Rem looked skyward and released a simple, whispered "At last." In the front rank, Tor expelled a growl of celebration and raised two clenched fists to his chest.

Screw Tor. She was going to kill more lightsiders than him. More than any of them. At last, the chance to show what she was capable of.

Chapter Text

It was going to be something about the outreach program again. More visiting schools, helping community projects.

That would be it. Just the usual.

Trin's stomach fluttered again. Her gaze was drawn out of the training hall, to the mountains outside. Around her the students stood in ranks, in silence. To her left, Jerik fidgeted. To her right, Teela cracked her knuckles - not her most appealing habit.

Don't be stupid. Don't worry. Calm yourself.

Trin took a breath, deep and even.

Maybe it was another visiting dignitary.

That was it. They'd not had one for a while, and there was always someone who wanted to see the future defenders of the Republic, and absorb some of that rich Tython history, maybe even brave the Meridional ice cap and visit the Martyrium of Frozen Tears.

So why was her heart pounding?

Ridiculous.

What was there to worry about anyway? Nothing.

Darksiders, maybe. But really? They'd all been overreacting to a couple of throwaway comments by Fahn. They'd worked themselves into a spiral of anxiety and over-analyzing, a contagion that had infected the entire academy, exacerbated by a lack of information from the masters, who were blissfully unaware that they were inadvertently creating spaces to be filled by overactive imaginations. Who had started the nonsense? Trin struggled to remember now.

That crazy theorizing was the reason for all the heart pounding and stomach fluttering she was experiencing, and it had to stop. Everyone had to start being more rational. A) it wasn't their job to eliminate every remnant of the Sith and the various other sects, b) the masters wouldn't do that to them, not now, not when they weren't ready, c) were there any darksiders to speak of anyway? They were scattered and impotent - everyone knew that.

Trin looked at the door again. Why were they leaving them here so long, just stood here waiting? Where was Fahn?

Teela cracked her knuckles again, piercing the silence. A giveaway that she was stressed.

The door swung open. Fahn entered, holding an inaudible conversation with Cheron, the academy director, and a tall woman Trin had never seen before. Cheron was an administrator the students rarely encountered, an elderly native of Tython with flowing white hair and a polite smile. He wasn't smiling now. All three looked rather serious. The woman was youngish and handsome, wore her dark hair very short, and was dressed in navy blue pants with a matching, tightly buttoned, jacket. There appeared to be an insignia on the sleeve and some kind of multi-colored detailing on the left breast that looked official, almost military.

A few more words were exchanged, Fahn nodded to Cheron and turned to the assembled Padawan. The master exhaled a deep breath while surveying the ranks, his eyes meeting theirs.

"Padawan," his voice was calm and strong, "Your life at the academy has been a journey of discovery, learning of the Force and its mysteries, and how it can be a powerful tool for good in your hands. I hope you've learned a lot about yourselves, and your fellow students, in the process."

"All your study and practice has a purpose," Fahn paced, hands clasped behind him, "When you walk the halls of the Temple, when you train in the Academy, you are a living, breathing part of long, distinguished tradition. For thousands of years, the Jedi have been champions of freedom, justice and peace. A beacon that shines across the galaxy, brightening the darkest night, casting light into the deepest shadows. They have been the defenders of what we hold most dear, the noblest facets of ourselves and our civilization."

The knot in Trin's stomach tightened. This speech was a bit much even by Fahn's standards. What was he building to?

"But to defend, one must be prepared to fight."

No. No way. She could feel her heart racing.

He stopped pacing and faced them, unsmiling.

"To be a Jedi means to, on occasion, fight the forces of darkness. It has always been so, and it is still."

Wait. Was this really happening? He can't be going there. He can't.

"To be a Jedi, means to serve." he scanned the faces of the students, and his eyes met Trin's, cool and blue and unblinking. What did he see in hers? Did they betray her fear and disbelief? She could only hope not, but she couldn't tell, couldn't think.

"Whatever the cost," he concluded.

Trin felt lightheaded. Breathe. You're not going to make a fool of yourself and keel over.

"Know this," he nodded and softened his tone, "I could not be prouder of you and your achievements thus far. Now it is time for you to take the next step on becoming the Jedi I know you can be."

Get a grip. Get your shit together girl. Stupid. He was going to set them a test. Or It's some new working with communities thing, but maybe a bit more dangerous. Law enforcement?

"There are people that need us, right now. And we will defend them."

Law enforcement, somehow. Yes.

"Tomorrow, at the fifth bell, we will leave here for Q'rel where we will board a transport that will travel the lanes to Rago, where we will transfer to Kril'Dor. On Kril'Dor we will defend a community that is under the threat of imminent attack from a sect of darksiders; we received the intelligence just a day ago."

Wait, what?

What did he just say? Her mind raced, blurring the words, confusing the sentences. They were going offworld? To Kril'Dor. darksiders? Maybe she'd misunderstood.

"For the rest of the day, you will be briefed by Major Ekkla," he indicated the tall woman in the decidedly, now Trin looked again, military uniform. "And return here at the fifth bell this afternoon when I and the masters take any questions."

They were going to Kril'Dor.

To defend some people from darksiders.

To fight darksiders.

Maybe die fighting darksiders. Was this actually happening?

The lightheadedness was gone. She felt nothing now. Trin stared at Fahn and the Major, unable to take her eyes from them, unable to move, trapped in a body numbed, her connection to the world cut clean to leave her adrift, exposed and powerless.

She glanced around at the other students. Per-Elle looked straight forward, blank. Just a reach away, Jerik emitted a soft grunt and raised his chin to look upward, outward. Trin looked to her right, to Teela, to find her looking straight back. The mirialian's mouth curled upward, just a little, in pleasure at anticipation of revenge and redemption, or in resignation, Trin couldn't tell.

"It's a lot to take in, I know, so take a moment," Fahn continued, "But believe in the Force, and yourselves."

He stood tall and scanned their faces once more. "And may the Force be with you."

The master turned to the military woman, "Major."

Ekkla stepped forwards, looked over them and put hands on hips. "Ok. With me." She strode to the exit, motioning them to follow.

Trin managed to turn and move her feet, the students walking silently, as one, after the Major. She felt a touch on her hand and looked up into Teela's deep blue eyes.

"Chin up," the mirialan whispered, "As my mother used to say: 'you're not dead yet'."

Chapter Text

"Hold up," Trin called after Jerik as she hurried down the academy stairs. He'd almost rounded the corner that would take him out of the expansive grounds and into the alleys of the town proper, busy with bodies hurrying home for dinner.

Jerik turned and waited, his easy smile worn thin by hours of briefings and one last quick but very intense combat session, his hands gripping the shoulder strap of his backpack. "Sorry, miles away. Just thinking about how I should prepare this evening."

Trin caught up and they set off together towards the Lanes and home.

She shrugged, "Good dinner and an early night?"

"Doubt I'll sleep," Jerik grimaced and ran one hand through tight black curls.

"And what about tomorrow morning? A big breakfast, or keep it small?"

That drew a smile out of him. "Typical Trin, thinking of her stomach at a time like this. Go big on the breakfast - we don't know when we'll get our next meal."

"Good thinking. Can't fight on an empty stomach," her brow furrowed, "I can hardly believe I'm saying that."

"There might not be any contact with the darksiders," said Jerik, "Chances are, our paths won't cross."

"Let's hope."

They passed a small workshop, where the artist - a young local woman - sat at an easel, the wall behind her dotted with her paintings; friendly splashes of abstract color against the dark brickwork. Trin had always meant to buy a couple and hang them above the bench-sofa thing in her apartment. What if she never got the chance now? What an absurd thought. But there it was, elbowing its way in. Were thoughts of mortality and impermanence going to plague her constantly, as long as the possibility of violent death was a part of her life, changing her outlook? Or in time would she shrug them off, racing on to leave them behind, smaller and quieter? How did Jedi of the past handle this? A perilous job and the threat of your life ending suddenly.

"Some of the class took it badly," Trin said, "Did you see Per-Elle?" The Togrutan had barely spoken a word since Fahn's speech.

"Yeah," Jerik looked pained, "I feel for her, but at the same time I don't know why everyone's so shocked. This is what being a Jedi means. I'd tried to warn them."

The street narrowed, feeding into the twisting alleys of the Lanes, and the two Padawan walked at an easy pace. No need to hurry. Let this last.

Trin sighed. "If we ever let ourselves think about it, we hoped it would be way off in the future. Not something we needed to worry about right now."

"Wishful thinking. The war is here."

The war. Trin had never heard it mentioned in those terms, but the conflict between Light and Dark, Jedi and Sith, had raged for millennia, the balance of power swinging back and forth, never to reach an equilibrium, never to find peace. A slow burning war, a fire never quenched, stoked by the Force and its mysteries. Was peace in their lifetime too much to ask?

"But should we be in it?" She turned to look him in the eye, "Do you think we're ready?"

Jerik held up both hands and came to a halt. Trin stopped with him.

"Stop," he held her gaze, "Get those thoughts out of your head, Trin, and don't let them back in. They think we're ready, or they wouldn't be sending us in. That's all you need to know. Trust them and follow your training."

Trin grinned. "I knew there was a reason I wanted to walk with you."

A smile and a shake of the head and Jerik set off down the cobblestoned alley again. Trin kept pace and felt the uneven stones beneath her feet. In a moment they would be at the branch in the lanes where they would need to part company, and she would be left to her own devices for the rest of the evening. She should make the most of him while she had the chance.

"Confidence," said Jerik, "Believe in yourself. Believe that when it comes down to life or death, in the moment, you'll do the right thing."

Trin recalled the leap; how she'd not retreated away, but been present in it, and reacted instinctively to save Aestra, and maybe herself.

"I think I will," she said.

They stood at the branch. Trin turned to face the tall, broad Padawan, and Jerik reached out to squeeze her shoulder.

"You better, if you're the one who's got my back," he almost smiled, and opened his mouth to say more, but seemed to falter and stayed silent.

Trin looked up into his face. The close-cropped curls, tanned skin, dark brows over gentle eyes. Conventionally handsome according to Teela and Osin-Ree, and quite a few of the other students. But more than that: dependable, loyal, smart and capable. Her friend from right back at the start of this adventure.

"Jerik, I..." she hesitated, brought up short by an overwhelming gratitude that he was with her in this. Trin watched his eyes widen, "There's nobody else I'd rather have fighting by my side."

Should she hug him? She settled for reaching out and gripping his arm.

Jerik's mouth worked wordlessly again, his eyes fixed on hers, his face betraying a tussle between conflicting emotions. Probably weighing whether to continue with the pep talk, against getting back home and preparing for tomorrow, she thought.

His eyes fell and he removed his hand from her shoulder. "Yeah, me too."

Jerik stepped away and started to walk down the alley that would lead him home. "See you bright and early and well fed tomorrow," he said with a reluctant smile.

"Fifth bell," she called after him, "Ugh."

Trin strode past white stone walls and gaily painted doors. To the matters at hand: a hearty dinner and early to bed.

Chapter Text

Jerik wasn't wrong about not sleeping.

Trin rolled onto her back and wriggled under the blanket, trying to find a comfortable position. If she could just relax and keep her mind well away from the day ahead, on holos or the latest romance static, or something, then she'd sleep. She needed to still her mind...

But it must be really late now. She was only going to get a few hours sleep at most. Would that affect her performance tomorrow? It was going to be a difficult day and she needed to be sharp. Sleep... now.

The transport to Rago was going to take a few hours. Four to five, depending on how busy the lanes were, Ekkla - Major Ekkla - had said. Maybe she could snooze then. There wouldn't be much else to do; it was a decommissioned military ship and they'd been told to expect no comforts.

So snooze then. She'd better take an eye shield and ear plugs, maybe some clothing that could be used as a pillow. Mental note for the morning.

She ran through what Ekkla had told them about what waited on Rago: a swift transfer to a couple of smaller craft that would take them in two groups to the colony on Kril'Dor, a community of gas miners attached to the side of an abandoned cloud city. Trin was in Master Jak's team. They were to find the elder that had contacted them, get directions to two Force sensitives - brother and sister - and get them out of there quick. Fahn and Ranna's team were to get three others - Echani, so it would be Master Ranna's job to talk to them, and-

Stop! Relax. Think about holos. Coruscant Concubines. Noodie was expecting Senator Jervid's baby, but had told San that it was his...

Two loud raps at the door cut through the night and Trin's semi-slumber. She opened her eyes and reluctantly propped herself up on one elbow before swinging her legs out of bed. Nobody called at this time. Were they leaving early? Some change in the mission?

Bare feet tiptoed gingerly across cold stone as she ventured out of the sleeping chamber and into the main room of the apartment. From there, on the small security screen by the side of the front door, she could just about make out a single dark figure in the street outside.

"Coming." She blearily padded her way to the door, folding arms around herself; these stone walled dwellings were blessedly cool in the hot summers, but less welcoming with winter's chill.

The door swung open to reveal Teela, arms folded and dressed in what appeared to be pink, patterned pyjamas, pale lilac face framed by long, sweeping tresses of deep blue.

"Can I come in?" she asked, unsmiling.

"Sure," Trin mumbled and stepped aside, the hour and the situation befuddling her for a moment. Teela hadn't called around late for some time, and even then she had usually been drunk. But it had been an unusual day. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Nope," Teela wandered in and perched awkwardly on the cushion-covered wall-bench sofa, glancing around the apartment. The mirialan had the air of someone that had been invited to a difficult meeting rather than someone settling into their best friend's sofa, and Trin felt on edge just looking at her.

"Me neither," Trin went to fetch a blanket from the sleeping room.

"Good, so I'm not disturbing you."

Unapologetic as ever, which was strangely reassuring. Trin carried the quilt in. "Those pyjamas are pretty disturbing. You want a blanket?" She knew the answer, mirialans not feeling the cold, but it seemed polite to ask.

"No thanks," Teela regarded the pyjamas and smoothed out the top, "They're very comfy. I treated myself." She brushed a couple of long dark locks away from her face, found another and started to wind it around her finger.

Trin watched her uneasily as she settled onto the sofa, making sure her backside found a cushion, not stone, and gathered the quilt around her. "What's up? Wanted a chat?"

A distant stare and bitten lip. "Bit worried about tomorrow."

"We all are, Teela," Trin leaned over to give her knee a squeeze through the pyjamas. "But that's ok. That's normal. We should be worried; this is a big step."

"I know. I'm ready, but still."

"Same. It's a lot to take in." Trin's unease grew stronger. Supporting Teela wasn't where she'd expected to be; what she'd expected was for her friend to be chomping at the bit for some action, telling her to be strong and ready and warning her that she'd better not dare let her down. Instead Teela looked anxious and depressed by some unseen burden.

"It's more than that."

"Come on. Out with it," Trin tensed, and felt a pang of guilt at her reluctance to know what Teela could find so worrying that it would get her out of bed and force her to walk through the night to her place? Truth was, the prospect of knowing scared her; it must be bad, so the chances she could do anything about it must be slim. But her friend had come for help, and she had to try.

"I've been having trouble sleeping for a while," Teela leaned back and looked away to the door she'd just walked through, "I close my eyes, and lie there in the dark, and I feel something terrible is coming."

"Like a storm gathering, far away, but I can hear it getting closer, slowly. And I can't stop it. I'm just waiting, I can't escape."

"The darksiders," Trin said.

Two violet eyes staring into hers was all the confirmation she needed.

"They took everything from me. Everyone," a pale, haunted face and a wounded look made Trin's heart hurt. "Why did they let me live? Only me."

"When I was little, I used to think they'd realize their mistake and come back, and get me," Her voice was quiet and flat. "The door of the dorms, or wherever I was staying, I'd imagine it being kicked in, and they'd be there, to finish the job. When the lights were out, I'd lie under the covers and wait for them, every night."

"Becoming a padawan, taking the Jedi path, it felt good, like I was sticking two fingers up at them, defying them. I thought that if I met what I was scared of head on, I would chase it away. I would be free of it. That seemed very adult, very grown up. Like if I was brave and had my shit sorted, like a hero in a holo, that's what I would do," a bitter smile and a shrug, "I thought I wanted to face them again."

Her words dropped to a whisper. "But I was kidding myself. The dreams started up, and it feels like it's all turned around on me. They're my destiny. They were always out there, looking for me, and now they've found me."

A rush of emotions swept through Trin. Guilt at not seeing her friend's distress earlier. The increasingly prickly moods, the drinking; she'd suspected it was hiding something, but had never pushed enough to find out, had always been deflected too easily, had chosen to ignore the signs.

Fear. At what this might mean if they found themselves in a situation tomorrow. What if being face to face with a darksider caused these long-suppressed terrors to flood back and overwhelm Teela when she needed to be fighting for her life. For their lives.

Disorientation. A sensation of the ground giving way beneath her feet, of a rug being pulled from under her. None of this was how it was supposed to be. Teela was supposed to be the strong, confident one. She had to be, so that Trin could afford the cost of uncertainty, wallow in doubt, luxuriate in fantasies of escape. Without Teela and Jerik to prop her up and point her in the right direction, where would she be?

But most of all, she was filled with an overwhelming need to go to her, hold her, whisper reassurances that all the tears and pain were in the past, that the small, frightened girl was gone, and in her place was someone stronger and ready to fight for what they believed in.

Trin reached for her and hesitated. Was sympathy what Teela needed? Would that wake her out of this anxiety, or would it be giving her the go-ahead to fall further in? They might be depending on each other for their lives in a few hours. Maybe Teela needed something else. Something that was tougher to give and receive. Trin withdrew her hand and straightened up.

"So you're saying it's your destiny to die at the hands of darksiders?" She surprised herself at the hardness of her tone, "Banthashit. That's just a scared little girl talking, from long ago. Forget her. Think of me and Jerik. We might be fighting together tomorrow. If you freeze, or give up and die, what happens to us?"

"I know," Teela nodded and looked down.

"Listen," Trin took her friend's hands. Teela's eyes lifted to meet hers. "If we meet any darksiders on the mission, you'll do what you've been trained to do. You'll fight hard, with me and Jerik by your side and we'll win."

"You're not alone this time," Trin insisted, "This is your time."

Brightly, gloriously colored eyes remained fixed on her and it was the longest time before she spoke. "Ok." Teela nodded and tried to smile.

"Maybe your destiny is to get revenge. That's why you were spared. That's why you're here right now."

Teela wrinkled her nose. "Revenge isn't a very Jedi concept."

"Giving them a taste of justice then."

"Better." A hint of a smile.

"Where justice takes the form of a lightsaber in the gut."

Teela grimaced, "Should have stopped at 'justice'."

"Just being real," Trin shrugged and looked down to their fingers entwined on soft pink pajamas, "Your hands are freezing."

"Yours are really warm." Teela's fingers gripped a bit harder, and Trin fought the impulse to react to her icy touch. She could no longer see the hard edge of fear in the girl's features and bearing; instead, Teela just looked tired and subdued. Hopefully that was progress.

"You want to stay?" she asked, "The bed's huge."

"Ok. Didn't fancy the walk back," the mirialan raised her chin and drew in a deep breath, as if gathering the pieces of herself together, "The cobbles are damp, these slippers are... slippy. Don't want to fall and do myself an injury. Big day tomorrow."

"Right," Trin got up, one hand still holding Teela's, one hand on the blanket, dragging both to the bedroom, "Someone's got to have my back."

"And it has to be me," Teela crawled across the bed as Trin spread out the blanket, "Keeping you out of trouble's too big a job for Jerik. Sweet boy, but there's only one person I trust to do that."

They both scooted under the covers, pulling them up to their chins and Trin wriggled underneath, warming up as the lights in the apartment dimmed and went out, leaving their eyes to adjust to the darkness.

"Good old Jerik." Trin recalled their parting earlier, his eyes searching her face for something, his mouth trying to find words that never came. She hoped he was getting a better night's sleep than her. Bet he was.

A paralyzing ice block touch against her bare calf wrenched a cry from her. Teela sniggered and withdrew her foot to her side of the bed.

"Fuck you're evil. You've fallen to the Dark Side already," Trin moaned, "I could never have sex with a mirialan. I'd get frostbite."

Teela made a plaintive, pleading sound. The two girls turned to face each other, their eyes met through the darkness and for just a moment Majors and missions, darksiders and death were gone, disappeared to a distant galaxy an infinity away, to a time and place too quiet and small to hurt them, somewhere far and, for a few breaths, forgotten.

"Trin," Teela's voice was soft and full of sleep now, "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Trin reached out a foot until it found cool toes, left it resting against them despite the chill.

"If we get out of this," Teela breathed, "You should just fuck Sarin and leave Jerik to me."

"Oh Force and gods above," Trin groaned as Teela smiled, "How did we get here again? Sleep."

Teela sighed and closed her eyes and as Trin watched her in the shadows, in no time at all, mouth slack, breathing deep and even, the girl was fast asleep.