From Scrap to Bones - Predatory Volition

[Echohawk]

A continuation from what is effectively season 1 for Kathea Sinrae

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Breaking dawn.

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"But arise, Lord Sinrae."

Steps punctuated the presence of a sole entity on deck, the Throne’s interior still rather stark and not having carried the same warmth and comforts that its predecessor held, the sound resounded and echoed. Something the keeper and pilot had always meant to rectify, but never having the time to as was the common excuse more and more. The keeper walked along, away from the helm for now as was ever at times the longest and most difficult strides to take.

Lining the walls were punctuated symbols of power, of domination, of challenge, of identity in the form of motionless statues, yet her eyes took them in each time she passed. The inspiration behind each aspect the freshly risen Lord wondered about, her own designs to emulate that of the rising struggle, the climb each and every Force connected might yet have to face. She couldn’t allow herself the vanity to think it was only her story, she wouldn’t succumb like the rest.

The rest being all that writhed in the mass and pools of power, climbing over each other as insects to grasp at food, air, and light. Where survival somehow was overshadowed by idea, where flames were snuffed out for the purpose of some sacrosanct ideology. She’d witnessed it take so many now, that shadow of death hanging nearby with each step taken now, though she could not tell if the carrion feasting beast that it was had come for her, she only knew that her blood continued to grow cold as the conflict drew closer. Loss was inevitable.

The cruelties of war and the shifting tide of hope and survival were things she’d not forgotten, having hardened her this far, but her thoughts instead wander to those yet untested. The Aspirants, a perfect name for so many of them, even the ones who had departed her immediate side. Deeper within, she never let go, not of a single one. With her title one might have assumed some grand change, but she saw no reason to poison herself on hubris now or ever.

The viewport of the docked vessel showed the hour with the shift of the planet’s position around the orbit of their solar foci, hues of the morning’s light shifting from darkness into the waking hours as distant lights gradually faded into the greater and more present light. Her fingers reaching out to strum the instruments all to life as the warship opened its eager eyes. Tendrils of potential paths all reaching out at the edge of her vision up in the sky, yet she’d turn away at such. A diagnostic check rendered all systems within optimal and expected operating standards, a small comfort with everything as it should be.

Her attention shifted to her healing left arm, wearing the splint for a time longer was uncomfortable but a precaution given how badly it had been broken. But the jaws that had clamped down reminded her of the master she’d lost. In that moment her command and survival all set aside for the ferocious curiosity, the yearning of comfort even from one as potent and twisted as she was. The bite came as the reminder to live as it no longer could. Instead she had to battle with the pain of teaching further, for she knew that there was more than hounds out there to command.

Resting her eyes, what should be a passive moment of beholding a beautiful new day hid well the struggles of her existence.

In time the two titans will have their inevitable battle, only one ultimately will emerge.
Preparing the way, you will not wait for death to dictate the path for you.
Some are beginning to understand the truths you hold closely, the extremes that exist.
Soon hard lessons will be wrought, there is so much to prepare for.
They must be able to stand on their own in the event you don’t make it through.
Consistency is not something crafted, but born of time and effort, irreplaceable.
Only through truth, will, patience can any of the others experience what you already know and hold.
Who will follow you to whatever end, you’ve brought them all this far…

The images of the mind’s eye flash

The dosh, the shadow and aristocratic lords, the apprentices that follow in their wakes, such yearning hungry and eager hearts of human, echani, chiss alike. The wounded who have strength but no desire to collaborate, the scorned who dream and walk as she once did. All these potential bonds still yet lingering, the friction of roaring hearts yet she could see them as they truly were. A wanderer returning into view. The bitter and forsaken, others living in the past growing more distant by the day. There was still one who now fought her on a different way, a mirror of her own beginnings, watching the struggle grow, the pain seep, and the mistakes being performed all over again.

“Why not just take a little time, and rest?”

Her eyes snap open with a deeper fury as the ache clawed along the edges of her gaze. Bitterly burning her eyes with the tears she kept hidden, even with all the strength possessed, there were such weaknesses.
A new day, one step further along.

[Echohawk]

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Two maws.

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The slow plodding of troopers dragging in various items and archaic errata on gravlifts, it gave Lord Sinrae enough time to simply linger over one of the lake views within the base itself. She’d given her instructions to the exact specifications, she’d see if they had met her wishes in due time. For now she took the time to look down over the flowing waters, the rolling waves as they crashed into the base supports and the edge of their boundary.

Thoughts dragged back to a time where she was being manhandled here in this very space. Held aloft by a single hand, dangling by the thread of her clothing, the will of the Force. For her the depths clawed a vicious taint, something she carried as both an unshakable shame and a boundary for which she could never willingly approach. The dreams, or rather the nightmares of being plunged helplessly with all limbs shocked into a rigid pathetic state, sinking ever deeper until the life drained up and out with the last bubbles of breath. To think it was the master she so venerated who placed her there, pushing her to that edge, under the guise of another to confuse and disorient her. The screams that had made Malak’s quiet faithful gleeful and smirking. The sounds she produced, the terror of imminent demise something she could never fully shake even while walking through the base at times.

Such was a time of testing after all, for she had not yet committed, or had not yet been accepted. That initial tear of the senses having driven her to become what she was, poised, dangerous. Her thoughts often lingered back, wondered what would be thought of her now. The only comfort she could wrap herself in was the pride Valerius had allowed her to see, clinging it to it as the orphan does to their adoptive parent. Standing there stoic just as he would, emulating his nature to the best of her ability, that was her silent wish anyway.

But just as she stood atop the place of deep wounding, shadows always managed to touch and test at the corner of their vision. More heard than ever witnessed.

"Unity… adoration… all these delightful positive qualities to feast on no? Shielding you, wanting you… even needing you." A baleful chuckle with a seething loathing all in the same exalting breath.

"A time is coming, can you really bring them all in? Moving, shifting, you’d never simply bow to one fate or another. Isn’t it something, stripping through nets, surviving in the wake of the rest. How many bodies and bones line the path now?" A far more jovial and wretched tone.

Slithering, pawing, her emotions were not something she could subdue and quiet entirely. While every movement was calculated, presentation considered, some of the prior hold had broken. In her efforts to just stay sane under the ‘care’ of Lord Bandon. Acid roiled in her throat even at the thought, sparking another round of retorts.

"Oh yes, we still hate him do we. So, so very much." Licking of the jaws, a savoring of the bile.

"Of course WE do he tried to murder us!" A snap, a snarl, the spittle and gnashing of jaws around her head.

"Pitifiul… if he wanted us dead he would’ve done so… surely." Arrogance blooming with a sultry and snarky writhing motion.

Mercifully for her own appearances she could save the purge from the memory of endless suffering for later on, usually before passing out on board the Throne she now called home. Though it didn’t keep her from whitening her knuckles in a fierce grasp around the pouch on her belt. The contents of which even gave the fleeting visages a touch of pause.

For all the loathing and bickering there was this one solid piece that she could confide in. A treasure hidden far away from the grasp of all others. Yet this one final shard was one of the few pieces of the past that hadn’t changed, hadn’t waned. Hadn’t been lost by either her own machinations or by coincidence much as she tried to claim every victory and trial invoked upon others as her own.

The quiet warmth, the tender confidence, an embrace that reminded her always that her faith in her instincts was a path to far greater things. Swallowing down the illness and taming the tension the shadows themselves had to back away to this sheer power. Even if it was only a fragment of a memory, it still rooted her deeply. The kyber she’d never use, the pure gift from an aspect of the Force she was finding herself missing more than ever. How she wished she could explain the power felt, the inherent strength of her own unique will. There was beauty and untamed mystery in the Force, not of either darkness or light. Just life.

Even now in her mind she was striding past those wounded and fallen, marking each with a memory that she continued to hold close. The death, the suffering, the disappointments, and departed. One would think that all she had already despoiled and caused difficulties with would be trivial afterthoughts. But she wasn’t so detached. She couldn’t yet yield to the teeth grinding about her own head. As if the efforts of focusing all her power on the alchemy process wasn’t enough, this pain and continued duress had to play out each and every day.

The lakefront shifted with a choppier set of wakes. The waters rippling with the sudden onset of a coming storm. A final breath of her master’s playful handling of the lightning storms. The Lord turns away to judge the work and pace within.

[Echohawk]

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Remember the lost…

Hear the sound…

---

Viscara’s quietly famed caverns, an ever gradually shifting place of unspeakable presence in the Force. Kybers had been found time and again within its depths, though it seemed on occasion new depths would emerge with either mining or tectonic events gradually shifting the layers hidden from the sky. Yet apart from the guardian arachnid forms there were two more quiet individuals patrolling its innards. The female Lord and her guardian Honor-guard Trandoshan.

To any observer that might chance an encounter, they were amicable, soft spoken, unobtrusive. Simply gathering a curious assortment of various stones either needing to be mined or already laying freely on the floor. Barely even appearing to speak to one another. And so gently as they entered the same easy flow of their departure would be barely noticed in the wake of a given day.

The haul would be brought back to the lab at base for sorting and use, stopping at one of the tables where the central pyre burned. A simple decoration that held such meaning and focus behind the dancing flames. It wasn’t the exact location she first came face to face with her master, but it certainly was fairly approximate compared to the vastness of the galaxy. Drawn in by a mere feeling, only to end up entwined due to the entity living within the crystals.

While she had not caged this power for herself, the connection had been made. Memories of a terrible master, loved and loathed wishing to break this aspect of the Force to her will. The catalyst for what the Jedi would consider her fall. Her eyes falling to rest to recall the exact face.

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Where old scars lay would seemingly have crystals covering them all along the scar tissue of the burns. She’d been shot in the face, that much was evident. And somehow crystals had grown from the area.

---

It would come as no surprise some of her behavior as ever had exposed her to harm, always drawing a hiss from the Trandoshan. Yet as protective as he was, there was always understanding, something established early on in their history together. Drawing a crude dagger to extract some of his blood, as she was coming to learn with experimentation. “Blood of the betrayed…” Announcing it like a scientist murmuring into a recording device. Yet she knew that the Force was hard to capture on footage and instead opted to write out her observations and attempts. A lingering pain in her left arm that had been recently shattered, even if it was healed over again.

Combining elements of witnessed ritual along with curiosity from the past, there was an ongoing thought process to see if some of what was lost might yet be found once more. She’d seen the dead walk, the dead fight, and now hearing reports of various biological masses. There was still so much yet untested, yet untried. Awakening the crystals with a beckoning summon from within, adorning them with the blood she procured with circumstance, intention seemed to matter significantly in the process.

Leaving the skeleton of the reptile be, the foci stone harvested and implanted left for now to permeate in the energies she’d invoked upon it. Time and again more doses of essence and will would be deposited, to see how once living things might yet… grow.

Dutifully her guardian observed, and the Lord could only wonder what he saw. Only noting a small pleased sound every so often. Another question for another time.

[Echohawk]

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Idle Thoughts

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Many hours on Tatooine…
Desolate, inhospitable, spiteful as the air and land could be.

Yet how long ago it was with bright youthful optimism, freshly landed fear, the gnashing jaws of a hyper-predator came baring down on an entire city. Wheeling in under the weight of sweat and trembling muscles they hurried, even though she wished for there to be any other way.

She’d not yet come to understand what it was like.
Being the opponent, the apex, the monster.
The dragon.

It was the first real death she’d beheld in some years that pulled at her, tugging her towards something she didn’t yet understand, that eventual well of power and focus. Even if the contents were not water, but fire and ash.

On one of her more clandestine strides she’d come across the desiccated remains, the raiders having taken all they could carry, the Jawas taking what else might be. Still the imposing skull and bones remained slowly becoming one with the dune.

She’d think back, remembering a sly thought to the remains and their potential use. Palming a fistful of crystal before spreading her blood and will upon it. Yet all she would do then is embed the formation, gazing upon the grave once more, only to turn away and retreat.

Perhaps nothing would come of it.

[Echohawk]

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Threads to fill the between!

1. Prior Break - The trap that took her away
2. Side adventure (Unfinished at present) - Lothal side quest

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Where is your head.

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Taking up one of the offices within the base was an unusual shift, but the trek between the lake base and the Ascension seemed far more hollow than before. The impromptu departure that detained her body and mind had cost them the enclave. An unavoidable loss, but now she was transitioning into this sterile and smaller environment.

White, chrome, silver, black. Such redundant and simple interior design but who could complain to have something that wasn’t going to be lost when others fell short. Her form came to a stop as she settled on the new chair, adjusting it for the first seating. She wasn’t after all the tallest being in existence, a great deal on her shoulders. It would be comical were it not for for the sound of drills being run by the troopers in the adjacent chambers. The halls had their echo to them.

The sullen Lord saw little reason to personalize the workstation at this stage, if she wanted to stare longingly at artistic depictions there was always the meditation chamber with its roaring tended flame. Lights dimming down as she brought her palm up to gently shut the door, the unnatural glow of the screen illuminating her downturned features. Such simple appearances that were cold and stoic hid so much beneath as her fingers began to prod their inputs into the system. The first of many reports to fill her waking hours between rest and tasking.

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How could it be that they could leave her like this.
That she carried so many fates in her flesh, that of the past, that of the present, and no doubt the coming future. The shadows at the very edges of the room churned with their whispers, one was never alone with the Force. At first she attempted to give them no moment of her attention, pushing thoughts of distraction and idle contemplation, but emotions needed their outlet and would never remain denied.

The rage contained that had no outlet, thrashing against each wall.
Abandonment. Resentment. Jealousy. Betrayal.

All sang their toothy songs in her ears as she continued to write on the progress of her various students, giving herself a general dossier to help remember where each was strong, where they needed further assistance.

A guilt gnawed the floor away as acid, making her certainty falter.
Remaining behind, stubborn or loyal. How easy would it be to simply give in. Which really was the easier path. Which was the right path.

Her writing had to stop as she grasped her arm in the agony that coursed through it. A body torn apart and put back together, the stress now manifesting as a constant threat to be managed with her pulse reaching her ears, the back of her eyes.

Valerius.
The single entity now drawing so much attention, so much ire. But how could she ever find fault with him, it was the method that she couldn’t deliver as he did, but the thread of emotion was hers as much as his own. How she wanted to scream, how terrifying each moment was becoming. She’d allowed herself in months past to become comfortable enough to forget the threads that kept them aloft, knowing in her core just how thin all truces had been from their initial forging.

But to think he might fall before his time, to be taken as the villain so many others howled and heaved at them as their identity. No, she wouldn’t let it happen again. She could not survive yet another loss of a mentor, of a powerful force in her life. Of a master. The ache of the thought of it even now reduced her to tears, though none would hear or see of it in this sealed chamber.

Reaching to rub up and cleanse her cheeks, she’d soon have to bring him his tea. He couldn’t see this raw emotion from her, he deserved far better. The temptation of ease, of stepping away from this burden would not weaken her resolve no matter how harshly it grabbed within her own mind. Even to consider such, perhaps she did deserve the punishment to befall traitors, her head hanging lower as her confidence waned in moments as these. She had to dig deeper, to find that strength again…

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There were precious few times in the dark and the quiet she could remember witnessing the namesake behind their task, their defiant existence. The belief he sewed back into them even as their paths crossed ever so briefly. The crystal he’d given to her, the one she corrupted as she accepted her place and began her full and final submission to stand in the dark, where others feared to.

She simply could not give up, not until there was nothing left.
A destiny, a choice, she’d sooner ensure that her life was lost than see Valerius throw his away.
This she swore, to the Force, to herself.

The time readout on the desk bleating into light and life. Hastily clearing her eyes and expression on her robe sleeve she stood and saved her written progress.
It was time for his tea, she had to continue attending her Lord.

[Echohawk]

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There is no escape…
I am your master now.

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The walk from Veles to the base had been one endured countless times. She couldn’t understand why the steps felt slower, the path longer, nothing had changed.

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From one arrangement to the next, she couldn’t ignore the whispers that had grown to plague her. But rather than being a chorus of sensations these were some aspects of her own focus given light and life through rigorous trial and deep meditation. Without breaking her stride or her fixed gaze on the steps through the marshy damp, caring little for the puddles or rain that she advanced through, she felt that familiar sensation. A heat on her neck, the forge within burned continually.

Forms that had been far more abstract were solidifying, their voices ringing out more solidly. A male figure draped in the stark red hues of her foe, an irony that such was still a part of her at the same time.

"You’re being slowly but surely ripped apart…"

Her gaze narrowing as she closed in on the place where her forging began. A mild drowning at the hands of her master, to be followed up by torture. Yet it was a memory she could only hold now, with the bodies of such all laying dead now. Her calf muscle tensing as the foot would fall where the saberstaff that had once threatened her stroked and clawed at the ground with murderous intent. The fence she’d been held against as electricity coursed wildly through it.

"…why take it slow. Why not get on with it."

Her mind affixed on the last conversation with one of her own learners, another chosen out of the myriad and mix that tended to befall Viscara without full direction. The sound of the door seals activating as she passed into the covered halls once more, needing not to even hesitate as she proceeded through the layers of security.

Something gnawed along with that voice, a smug smile pawing over his face as she was being observed, judged from within. Perhaps one day she would be driven, these same entities that stood stoic and true would regard her with violence, an intruder. A fleeting vision of potential, not some reading of the future. The way of Sense drew in all manner of intentions, however fleeting or implausible, yet it was always the most negative and dire that struck deeply and stood apart.

"How long can you keep holding on. You’ve heard the whispers, the divides forming again. Now where have I seen this before…?"

A snap and lock as she sank back into the confines of her office she’d claimed, fingers sweeping along the desk top in passing. Though for the moment she had no desire to sit or settle. The cramp from her calf earlier making the muscle twitch and shiver.

Her dataslate had been far quieter, knowing not if this was a blessing or a curse by this point. There were always moving parts around.

"He will cast you aside, you heard her say it and you knew the truth. If not today, then when?" The smugness, the contempt, yes that was his name. But even she would draw a line of what she’d tolerate as her hand clutched the edge and her teeth flashed, growling into the corner. To anyone else, she’d be raging at nothing.

Venomous sarcasm, "Terrifying, truly you wretch." The slander and depreciation came as it always did, sinking into her veins as a leeching poison. "Distract, scream, nothing you do will stop it."

To her credit, this voice didn’t stand alone however, and as such neither did she.
"We do not submit, to give in is to seal what can be yet changed. Only HE can tell us, only HE will tell us when it is time. Not US. And we will not ALLOW this to happen, not without a FIGHT."

Separate, armored, the rage had been refined but it all still swarmed and quarreled within her own head. Here and now the other softer hopes for her being were drowned out to the throbbing drum and pulse raging in her senses. A pinch of fatigue clawing at her tired expression, the fight never ended. But now a missive came through that she had to attend as her fingers flowed fluidly along the terminal.

---

Her hands splayed out as she examined the schematics for a new project, eyeing the compartments and readouts of the ship with a glaring focus. A lesson plan in the next, the time was coming once again to tend the flock. The path had shifted, but nothing had changed.

[Echohawk]

Mood Song: Obsolete

The loyal sith

---

The moment had come, in a place she had not expected it. Away from the sanctum she’d bled in, taught within, suffered for, killed for.

"You are hereby dismissed, stripped of all rank and titles…"
With no hope of ever claiming them again.

A stubborn one to some, a fool to others, but her sole desire in the end was that of resolved choice.
The decree was handed down, the order absolute. Her final command, she would obey.

---

This singular act became a ripple that alerted the entire ecosystem the way a predator’s presence does when it steps into the forest, the scent of a carcass rising.
“When they come to find me, they will see that I did not die.”

Though the one thing that did surprise her was the faces she would see in the following hours. A mix of expressions, of backgrounds, and agendas. There was a great deal behind her wake, but the path before was not set and neither were their feelings on her. One encounter after the next, new voices, old faces, wounds lay bare in this new light.

It felt strange not to simply break down and wallow. Such should be her right on this of all days. In spite of the moment when she should feel the most helpless, the most betrayed, lonely, violated…
She felt higher, stronger than ever. A feeling so surreal she was waiting to see if inebriation would bring reality back in, or whether sleep might cure it. This was not the shame she had carried while the tension mounted. Fear was there, but so too was strength.

There was still so very much to do. Though at least she’d try to get some rest she promised. Retreating to her only domain left. New possessions, new companions, yet no certainty in what was to come.

---

After the final missive was sent, calling back Nrrax from his distant mission she was left in the dimming lights of the helm of the Ascension. Though try as she might, her rest would be fraught and battered with bouts of open weeping, seething rage, drowning guilt, and gnawing worries. Rolling from side to side, no position gave comfort, no amount of laps around the controls would quell her for now the pacing no doubt echoing through the interior. The face she’d maintained was broken in private, the means to console herself immaterial or impossible now.

She couldn’t help but pause at one point as her gaze drifted higher on the horizon of the spaceport, beyond the landing building, beyond the treetops and into the all consuming night. Distantly, she saw them shine.

---

Despite the stars being so close, never have they felt so far.

---

[Echohawk]

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Where is your belief?

---

Prior revelation paved the way to a temperate environment. Entirely sequestered between few places there was a distinct return to earlier states. Paranoid looks, controlled groups and contacts, secure locations only. If a master fell out of the sky she’d feel like she’d gone back in time by this point. But the nexus lay largely silent, the crystals only singing their usual vibrations, she had to keep herself grounded at times.

Day and night cycles passing as she poured her life essence back into an old project, all of her focus manipulating the molecular elements of the sample she’d acquired, the second time a cure had to be made out of a toxin. But with all her skill and experience she knew there was no light to this work. Dark must replace dark, an agonizing sacrifice of her time and strength. To lessen the suffering that was inflicted by this creation, though in doing so she dredged the memories that first formed them. Contrasting the moment was nearly the inverse, how strange it felt.

---

From the depths of secrecy, malicious and spiteful. To a known project, alleviation.
The raw memory of the fallen and desecrated. Now to amend what only one like her could fix.
A once rising power and unity, only to become the exile of her own creation.

---

The blood flowing from her limbs, the muscles would ring out their despair as they clashed with her natural body. While it would not overtake her, the pain was simply immense, persistent as the stress continued to rise. Her body threatening to fall apart as she willed it back together time and again. A growing strain on her with all she was pouring in now to this ‘antidote’ close as something like this could be called. The Force felt more finite in times like these, enough that she could continue but her strength considerably culled.

The dreams of her rest were always broken, never fully making themselves known as she’d wake again sweat dripping while gasping for breath. A frantic look around as if to expect a plasma blade on her throat at any second. She’d have to grab her own head, catching herself, coming back down from that frantic height.

"I want to…" Her own voice churned inside.
One of the few remaining sources of comfort even in the depths of this protective cage, she’d reach over first to a heavy completed saber not of her own make, but passing it over for a tender, aged green kyber. The flesh of her fingers gracing it as she wondered.

Is it even possible to awaken it again, would it ever answer to one like me? What hope can one hold, what is a life like this supposed to be. It was his, not mine.

Her breathing would deepen again. She’d had to push and pull more lives and fates around her, not that hard choices were unfamiliar but never were they comfortable. Frustratingly so, they weren’t certain either. The only reprieve was to lift certain veils of deception, a complicated life which yearned for but a few things. One selfish, one not, and yet both connected.

Lifting her gaze, the temple grounds, a hidden artifact trailed through her mind’s eye. Imagined, as she had yet to witness it. A personal resolution she vowed to herself then.

When my safety can be assured, when I know this is not a trap. I will face you, for myself, for no other. The rest can be damned to hardened hearts for all I care.
It is their loss.

The body ached, crying out in suffering before she stilled the trembling ligaments and muscles once more. Coughing harshly while she expended more strength. Had she lost her resolve she could only imagine where she’d be now, but she had more to live for, to fight for. This was not over.

---

Her thoughts before drifting back limp into an attempted rest were that of the mountains, of a moment she never thought she might have. Standing aloft, overlooking a distant possibility rising from the ashes of circumstance.

A heart swelling with justice, yet at least hearing her words gently loft into the air. She knew of unease, of worry, the assumption that with a knowledge carried would be wanton distribution. But to carry the arts was to carry tradition, the weight, the responsibility of that which came before. One does not learn merely how to swing the blade, but to learn of the weight of it, to learn why.

A voice she thought she’d lost, perhaps finding yet more willing to listen. She would weep for this hope, this feeling.

[Echohawk]

---

You are not alone

---

Theme Music : Bury the Light - Vergil's battle theme from Devil May Cry 5 Special Edition - YouTube

"Close your eyes, Kathea Sinrae." Master Gael instructed out afar from the rest of the grounds. She’d sink and find familiar spaces, dens of her lairing companions of Contempt and Survival, there were chambers deeper, down beneath the furnace she’d fed. Her movements already being watched until she found that door within the void itself. The beloved caverns, the way into what she expected to be a harrowing confrontation.

Yet.

Looking out a face new, yet growing in familiarity presented. Catching her well of guard at first, but for once in a good way. She couldn’t help but come closer as he faced away. Knight-captain Jerr Merarr, intoning the code. Before turning and speaking. Though the words were short, they pulled on her a hidden truth. The darkness nested deep inside, a placid moment changing with a blistering wave of sand beneath darkened skies filled with the weapons of war.

Korriban academy. Easily recognized.
The way lined with soldiers, the way back a despondent wasteland, she could run, but she would simply die. She hardly needed incentive to advance but the figures formed around her.

On one end Aiven, Skyva, Katya, and the other Revanites…
The Lord-Inquisitor, Lord-Overseer, and Lord Lin Harik upon the other, shadowed by countless more she’d known, she’d trained under, fought beside…

But at the center of the crucible was the one, the master of her command. Yet seeing him here now, she found no joyful flight in her steps as she pressed through the sands to advance, to face him herself. His own words spared, trailing off the list of names, the perceptions of others yet absent one.

"Kathea Sinrae. Sith Lord. Fallen Lord. To some… the spider that spins a thousand webs of lies. To others… a friend. To me…"

She hung on the words as she had always done once her fear of him was conquered. Yet it would never come. A haunting question intended for another time, perhaps even a test one day, who could be sure. His hand running over a runic stone beside him. A thought of a grave made her tense.

Lord Valerius’ composure broke, speaking of the nature of the dark. He was right there, she could burn alongside him. All of it had already gone so wrong so far. She didn’t have to be alone, and neither did he. Spite rose in her throat as fire to mythological beats, yet the hallowed ground of her forging, of the forging of her saber remained oppressive.

Her retort was a short bark. She’d not be pulled away from the path she had already begun upon, heavy as the steps were. The visions joined them, three others. The ancient, the foe, and the founder. Distant as the last one was, a whisper, unseen. The lost Master.

No, there was a snap, a snare, a sudden point.
This was not what he’d wanted for her, both knew this.

"I cling to something that maybe we never truly understood… perhaps all those who swore and stood beside us realized this."

"But you know that as things are… I never will."

"And you know that as you are… you cannot save me."

"But even so, Kathea…"

"I know you will still try."

Revan’s coat billowed, the attention of the Darth affixed on her as she spoke to that which was Valerius. For a moment she could swear an urge rose from within him. A yearning entering her senses as her attention is drawn, a longing to hear his command and voice once more. But it never comes.

Valerius reaches for her, she doesn’t feel compelled, but reaches to take up his hands to recall that comfort that felt so distant now. The embrace she allowed herself to selfishly steal. A tender moment, however brief in a sea of madness and loss.

"Hope."

Squeezing her hands in his own. "Then all that is left is for you to become someone strong enough to pull me from this path, and repay the feeling. To give me hope, as I once did you."

She could feel the urge rising to declare it, to mark her own existence with this dedication, and thus she did so swear, here to where perhaps no one would ever hear. A commitment, unbending, unyielding, just as she had served once faithfully to her detriment she instead carried a new purpose.

Jerr appeared gently afar as she turned, his presence an odd contrast in this sea of darkness. His hand extending in invitation to her. It was time to go. The first step heavy, slow, but with each footfall it became easier.

As she moved along with her steps the vision of Revan fades, silent as stars along with the rest. Leaving only Valerius and Jerr to remain. Without hesitation the grasp is taken up, a new truth realized and emblazoned on her soul.

Coming to the Jedi Master muttered something about paperwork before handing off to the one she’d seen in her journey. There he was, looking on in the flesh. Proud.

"Welcome to the-" Her mind flitted, her utmost focus should’ve been on Jerr in that moment in time. But something seemed to whisper and tug at her senses. Though much like a glass of water, it was refreshing if empty. There was no message that reached her, only then did reality seem to phase back in. "-di Order."

Wait…

Wait…

WAIT.

WHAT?

---

Such a small thing to miss.

Easy to forget even…

The days that come after, the hunters close in.

Fear. A mistake. A master.

Reduced to something so pitiful, so small, it could fill the palm of your hand.

Departing the temple for now… she needed to breathe.

They didn’t have to believe in her, she just needed to keep going.

Never give up on hope.

[Echohawk]

---

Cold war

Theme: There will be generations because of you.

---

"Valerius sends his regards."

The shot that managed to pierce the peace of the grounds around the temple was ineffectual at best. But the sound, the message ran through the minds of so many after it was uttered. At first shock, then after, thought.

---

Lessons were imparted nearly daily but they weren’t quite what she was used to. Not that she’d skip or hollow out prior routines. Pouring over the data she had archived, learning of new worlds and interests, ensuring her body was to remain as fit as her mind could be. Such things were easy, familiar.

The first lesson however had been the hardest one of all. Battered to her core, she understood why so many fell then. As her body was unharmed but her mind was pinned to the floor with pressure before it, upon it. This was not a place to make friends, this was not home, this was to be accountability. Duty. The path that must be tread. But so raw and overwhelmed, she could feel herself trying to beg them to stop but the words never came as the next blow fell unseen. Trust was shattered, they had to do what they thought was right.
Something in her broke down, brought her to the brink, until softly the voice came.
"It’s going to be all right. Keep holding on, there you go…"
Her hands closed around it as she lay there, observed, likely not understood though.

Now a well held memory in the days that followed, a surreal hidden nature to this place. A comfort and a refuge for so many, even for herself at least initially. Drifting in and out the grounds, hesitant to even enter or remain in the temple. The guardians had taken mild notice of such things but she still remained dedicated, unbroken to the oath sworn even so. All they might do was glance, she cared not.

The training was indeed an expansion on her prior knowledge, prior strengths even if such was not in the least bit martial now. Subduing that beast within herself, reaching for something that had always be, yet remained fuzzy and out of reach. While most of her sessions were without the same function as they once were, she did dip every so often into the places where she’d been. The halls now more hollow with the voices of Survival and Contempt having been ripped as parasites from her mind, yet the sensation didn’t depart that there was still something else within. Drowned out it seemed by the squirming hostile forms that existed before.

No longer did she need to reach into some recess of her own mind, instead where she was need only be the stage. All things flowing out from a central core. Her breath flowed with the pulse of existence, slow, rhythmic, paced. The heart that had raced in countless battles to the death went more gently in time, the muscle easing into a song of an easier life. If only for a little while.

Hours, days, it mattered not, every waking hour that was not being spent before was now to be occupied. Hands extended limply on either side where she sat in formation. Reaching, waiting, her hands out gently for the Force to come when it was ready. Attentive, listening, yet as before the soft sound was not from without, but within.

---

Formless, it spoke once more.
"You remembered the words of the late Jedi…"

Her brows would faintly lift. A chorus filtering in a single sound. Not male, not female, but present. Warm. Coming from within, it seemed to be as native as her own body. Noble hope.

Yet the yearning overtook her in that moment as she pried her eyes opened, startled, losing that thread in the very moment she sought to take it. Yet there she remained aboard the vessel that was home. Her breathing having gone slightly ragged from the startling moment. How ironic that it was that she’d yearned to walk this path all along. How winding the road became, how unlikely success would be. Yet if their teachings were so true with each step along her way she’d been right where she was meant to be. And oddly, while she fought with the concept, it was starting to make sense…

---

Still, as discussion proceeded she never would forsake the knowledge that she had. No matter how many gnashing teeth gave their warnings, their bitter opinions, she’d always held close the truth that fewer still were willing to believe. The pain was growing, the gnawing aura of his presence. So close, yet so far, and yet at least for now she’d know this was what was meant to be. A life not given up, but seized.

As her next lesson was concluded, her master granted her a serenity she was struggling to find anywhere else. Their thoughts, intentions were all starting to blend more seamlessly than ever before. It was startling to feel something she’d lost the day her old hateful master fell. He’d lured the war beast that she’d become, lumbering with weapons still lodged in her sides as he’d raised a hand to it, resting a palm harmlessly. Letting fearful eyes fall to rest in quiet embrace. He knew exactly how to heal her, somehow, he knew.

So when the task next came where he smiled bemused while he handed her the silken cloth that was to bind her for the next set of days, she found herself surrendering a bit. She’d spoken about accepting challenge and as such she would honor it. Not that she’d realize the glow on her cheeks, the eager one in spite of the lesson to come. Darkness would befall her, but the Force was with her.
"Keep going, you’ve got this."

[Echohawk]

---

Release

---

"With the Force anything is possible Padawan."

While being dowsed in Viscaran rain, here was Kathea the former icon of the Sith that could be tolerated in this local domain, a terrible irony in so many ways. Diving down into the depths of the Force not as its commander but as its scion. Before her the immense statue that no man could conceivably lift alone, hands turned up with palms bared to the dreary skies while squat down in the mud and earth.

Yet try as she may, reach as she did, following everything she’d learned and unlearned all she could do was tremble. The body wracked with ache of still throbbing injuries just out of sight she’d concealed and endured, the humidity causing her body to seep with a miserable sweat. For all her prior power, capability, the stone would not move.

While this might seem a failure, rejection, she didn’t feel bad. An acceptance reached within her mind that echoed not only with the Force but with the world around her, as such things were all so connected. It simply was not time yet, not meant to be. The process of walking a new way had continued the journey prior, this was not a regression, just an adjustment. And while not everyone would see the truth in full, they would see her.
"We just have to keep trying, never give up…"
As was becoming a new way for her, she dipped her hand to gently reach for that small comfort, giving it an adoring and reassuring squeeze to let it know that she was listening, she heard.

---

With words guided there was a moment she could step backwards, away from the chaos, the pain dragging her down like hooks. It wasn’t the dark side but the same power she’d come to rely on.

People were the problem, and people were the solution.

Passing into a new point of meditation, she’d moved beyond the methods she’d used to ensure she kept a clear head, following the path as was dictated by another outside of her. One who carried a similar burden to her own. But her mind wouldn’t fixate on this ache of atonement.

The ongoing open wound that was her prior existence was alleviated at the sight of the two men who stood impossibly side by side with arms extended in invitation to her. One in brown, one in black, both gazes holding to her with an adoration and faith. Standing on a world that was blessed, untouched, unburdened, unknowing of all that had transpired since its birth. How could she have been so blind to such, how could she forget the feeling of the embrace. She’d held them both in moments of such vulnerability, such weakness and they had simply taken her up in turn. A strength, a bond, a dream, and a hope.

The blindfold that adorned her face became gradually too damp to contain the tears that escaped. Try and try again, she wasn’t at the point yet, she couldn’t fully give in and let go.
"No matter what you decide. I fight by your side."
The choice had indeed long since been made.

A sublime breath, breaching the surface as a great star whale adorned in cascading metallic dusts and light. And all Kathea could do was be in the moment, beside herself.

[Echohawk]

---

How they see me.

---

Seeing the infiltration ships shot down in their controlled descent, it wasn’t long before the team in orbit had to descend in a similar manner to ensure all units were intercepted. Streaks of fire and smoke as each of the vessels entered atmosphere and disintegrated was easily something to be tracked and followed into the mountains. Black clad, specially trained operations personnel likely attempting to bypass notice had fallen into the net of routine patrols it seemed.
As the sound of cloaking devices clicked off an old hunter was awakened once again.

---

Day and night never changed, though it felt like the passage of time flowed so differently now. And while she hated it, there were times where the focus fell entirely on her once more, not necessarily of merely the past and the stain of it, but something deeper and struggling deep beneath. Keeping the BD6 unit in repair became a soothing focus outside of her own mingling and efforts to keep touch with the Order’s members. The way the unit spoke to her, issuing the recordings it had stored deep within she couldn’t help feeling an odd fondness for something inanimate. Granted she already had a fondness for the ship she’d called home so it really shouldn’t have been so much a surprise.

Her thoughts as of late drifted deeper than before, not that the perspective of the war or survival eluded her but now demands were being made to find those things lost and left either in ruin or neglect within. As if sifting through the ashes she’d find precious little things that would’ve otherwise been missed. An unfiltered view of the Force, a new perspective, challenges that went unresolved. Fragments that she needed to hear, "You never fully fell, Padawan."

“Hero” - “Legendary” - “Honored” - “Wise”

Concepts that applied to the Jedi, words placed upon the mantle from those outside looking in she kept hearing now time and again. This adoration, reverence, and to those that might oppose a healthy dose of fear had they sense enough to experience it. How few they were in number now, ravaged by the conflicts she’d been born into and only now could realize their plight with a full vision. Yet something continued to gnaw on her…

Sith. Jedi. These identifiers that spoke of the nature of who they were attached to. Much as any title it created the expectation of their connection and motives, yet to be called Jedi still felt piecemeal, uneasy, even foreign to her. Her approach to the temple alongside the Knight-Captain had been the footfalls of a great test for all who witnessed her, and even now the effect was still ongoing. With every retelling of her past to each eager and hungry curiosity the end always concluded much the same. "We’re glad to have you with us now."

Indeed the present was the time to be focused on, though the knowledge of the past lingered along with every experience and tactic that had been conceived. The Lord of the Revanites not dead, not reborn, but adrift. Her body might appear before them but an unsettling transition had lifted her from a place of certainty. She could feel the warmth and hope around her, but she couldn’t feel it yet for herself. In the depths of her own compassionate soul searching meditations she would arrive at the same place, confronted with the ethereal reflection of herself. Never able to be kind to this one, never able to allow herself true comfort. This shame and guilt churned out of sight as a planet’s core, ever burning.
"You still draw breath, worry not, there is still time."

Calling herself a Jedi felt strange, but more and more the people around her simply greeted and regarded her as such without any hesitation. Something else to get used to. The temple still had this discomfort to it she couldn’t fully shake, though part of her thought that might be more of a boon in some regards. After all even the greatest of ruins can still be considered an attachment. Home was in the mind’s eye and one day she might very well have to leave this place for the last time, it would make it that much easier.

Her thoughts would drift to something she’d been carrying with her for some weeks now, known to many but not all. As ever when the stress and uncertainty arose she found herself grasping for it, and while it spoke no secrets she could only dwell on the intention behind it, how it came to her. No matter what they called her, he would be by her side, that much remained ever true.

That she could be of use again helped more than all of the time in the world. There was always healing to find when one aids others, and the opportunities were coming. Her form all but roaring in wanton triumph at the chance to venture forth once again.
To preserve life, to make a difference.
To help end this war.
"Look how far you’ve come already."

[Echohawk]

---

Give And Take

---

Hours upon hours, this new hobby was starting to prove something of a breath of light and life. The countless faces of people she’d met from all walks of life attempted to be envisioned from memory in simple acrylics. Sith, Jedi, Mandalorian, Czerka, Republic, criminals, scoundrels… all so many pieces of the same grand puzzle. The color of the background always reflected something she saw in them, though there would be a doubt anyone would ever witness these armature creations. The idea for this therapy came from an unlikely place and as ever it seemed the more curious the origin the more effective it was in practice.

Yet there was one visage she refused to paint, instead going through the mental list time and again to touch up on those that weren’t quite right.

Between this and the study of Miralian Fatereader writings she was lost in a sea of her own discovery, yearning perpetually to unveil a new track of detail or discovery not yet beheld. There was a deepening appreciation for the interconnectivity of it all. Even going so far as to write down the Mandalorian actions upon physical scrolls for her keeping. Experiences and cultures were becoming intoxicating methods to expand her understanding and deepen the connections she was coming across, there was simply so much more to take in.

---

Cloaked figures and veiled intentions still roamed, she knew the game had not let up at all. Politics would still rage as an undercurrent even in the midst of survival and war, it just seemed to be natural to try and control what you could in the midst of peril and chaos. The rot she’d known before was starting to become a growing scent that she couldn’t ignore, as it had already taken much from her.

Worse still… it was everywhere.

The only comfort she could truly find solace in was the ally she’d witnessed, the one walking with her all this time. Even though it was only now she finally had the means to stop, listen, and behold. How else could she remain adrift in an ocean where she couldn’t swim, watching every hungry eye be swept under and devoured in the living abyss. She never did anything but catch the blame, all she could do was watch and now she could understand and appreciate it all the more. All she had to keep doing was not go under.

Slipping away between lessons, meetings, all such things she had her engineering and programming equipment in a pack. Giving herself another quiet reprieve as a certain war droid needed her attention, though it never felt like work or a chore anymore. This was a joy.

Each day a gift, and her being began to revel with each new dawn. Though she didn’t forget the one who’d given it to her, not a day went by that she’d not think of him.
"Just need to stay confident. You’re right."

[Echohawk]

---

Break Free

---

Compassion came easy to her for others, but never for herself. Always there was the fear of success rather than failure, it was the battering of the universe she thought, a tempering to refine mind and body. The cruelty to herself was justified for so long, humility to avoid the fate that befell those before. The grounds of the temple were small compared to the vast galaxy, yet within it carried the hearts and minds of so many, each a reality and vastness all unto their own. She stood in formation alongside her Jedi Master, stoic and patient in his continued instruction and revelations he sought to infuse in her.

From the outside it might’ve once appeared abusive, she wouldn’t even be aware of the restrictions now put in place, but the blows never came. Acceptance had settled in, relief and release as well. How in mere words could one express the all-encompassing notion and power of the Force, yet here they divulged such, conduits of that which was more than every life combined moving unseen around them with every breath that passed. Restriction was a good discipline to maintain, but such could be eased and choice returned. Glancing backward in her own past she recounted a notion from her training that had carried her this far.
“The Force shall free me…” A bemused sound to follow, her own voice rang out through the evening air.

How ironic that one held the notion that it was to come, and not already there. Always. Right from the beginning to last until the end.

Falling with a silent crash, the heaviest chain of them all fell limply unbeknownst to anyone witnessing now or after. In times before she might have teased about being a beast of war and now that beast was well and truly free. Though its first instinct was not to lunge, not to roar in defiance, but simply to move forward in a way that had been long prevented by the binds. As it seemed the Force recognized, the days to follow would prove a rather pointed lesson that none of her mentors would dictate or order…

---

---

As one could finally breathe again, being given thanks for a deed that should remain buried and gone, Kathea would be called another name symbolic of kinship and efforts recognized. Another identity, still the same person in the end but there was no need to shirk it or deny it as she’d done before. Bowing her head with respect it was time to now retreat and recover, she would not be collecting on the debt incurred here anytime soon.

Decompressing from actions now taken, she stood apart for a time alone staring into another world’s horizon within the grasp of a temporary sanctuary. She’d thought perhaps some degree of remorse might be realized, but it never came and as such a calm center instead persisted, natural rather than sought. The voice within considered all that had transpired, no aura to it. She heard herself speak within, clarity of purpose, shameless and without hesitation.

Valerius’ lost something considerable that day, one of his greatest weapons. Perhaps he knew, perhaps he is realizing.

Either way he needs to remember who his true foe is, not allow for distractions and to drag other elements into this war. You have enough enemies, and so it’s on me to remind you not to allow for old grudges to get in your own way. We have a war to win.

A nod to herself, it was time to turn in. That was a long night, and a test the Force itself had placed before her. While she had no reinforcement to the notion, she wanted to believe she’d passed this test and for the first time she accepted it as truth. She had broken free.

[Echohawk]

---

Fresh Wounds

---

One victory, but such a cost to follow after. She couldn’t stand it.
That which she’d helped create, which she’d helped foster and forge now descending into darkness and wanton slaughter. This was not the vision they had wanted. What made any of them different from that which they swore to fight. Her fist would find more than one durasteel wall interior to impact on, the frustration had to be let out in private. She was not the perfect Jedi, and for a moment she was done trying to be.

With each life taken, knowing who they were was a carving in her psyche. The Revanites had taken lives that any Jedi would find wholly abhorrent. And now the hunt for them continued. The Republic yielding to them would’ve been everything her former self would’ve wanted, but now it was the antithesis. Weary gazes beneath helmets were looking to her, and she couldn’t let them look on in silence. She had to do something…

With all the spirit she could muster, words were lifted to those who had lost and become despondent. A familiar call to uplift the weakened and wounded of body and mind. This hope that continued to beat had dimmed with ache, but still it endured. Now to foster it in others, perhaps to yet still keep it alive that much more.

The Force would never react, but her soul would languish. Carrying now the wounds left raw and open. Overwhelmed, outmatched, she knew unto her very core she could never take this all on. Losing track of the hours that passed, sleepless, ill, as the stress manifested in her physical being. Even when there was enough time to pry herself out of the hold of the ship there would have to bea mask in place, something to conceal this visceral state. She’d have to carry the ache with her now, trudging, unyielding, and suffering.

Her master who protected her now having his own burden to bear. She was adrift, but not alone. She knew not what atonement meant anymore save for the building of trust and confidence in her new resolution to be in the Order. But by the Force this feeling.

As ever it was only in those moments of hearing and assisting another under the verdant Viscaran trees that sanity could be reclaimed. They were after all fish trapped in small ponds, enduring until the memory of the rising sea tide would return…
"The time will come."

[Echohawk]

---

Don’t give in.

---

Valley of the Saints Ambiance

Seated at the helm of the Starlight’s Spear she surveyed the new Throne’s full array of weaponry. While not a grand capital ship there was a certain edge and violent intention she had ensured was the purpose of this second vessel. Valerius’ Ascension still remained a home and sanctuary, purposeful in its own way. The Spear had no personal effects so the feeling was a bit hollow and sterile, not that the pilot minded overmuch. Settling into a trajectory of orbital space around Dathomir her calibrated hunting eye opened to turn unto the next foe.

---

Eyes falling to rest between conversations, none would know how her thoughts strayed to Jerr no doubt perched somewhere in his own silent duties. Whenever she could try to excavate pieces to better understand the man the more she seemed perplexed on the decisions made. But Jedi were not perfect beings, they were never meant to be.
However, unlike him she didn’t wish to simply relinquish that which she felt, the ache of witnessing all the horrors and suffering now. One might assume it was to drift back into her old ways, to feast upon it to draw strength, but thus far it only drained and tested her to the point of lethargy and breaking. Yet she would not yield it.

"You know the way forward, it’s always been there. They gave you a choice, and you have chosen."

While he was ready to relinquish his position with ease, she could not find it in her to release her loyalty. Even with his blessing to take a new master there was still a rift between herself and the other Jedi that wasn’t mending, or at least it wasn’t in any kind of hurry to do so. It hurt to feel so exposed, but she wanted to bleed this way, to let her body feel the ache and woe. This feeling wasn’t intoxicating at all as it once could have been, yet she would not bow to it either.
There was no race to become a Knight, what she would learn would come when it was meant to. His restriction felt more like a continuation of the last lesson he gave, to slow down. The pain now gave clarity as to why she couldn’t give it up. If her will could not be broken by this then she would survive the next, yes the bleeding soul was a draining process but that she felt it meant she was indeed still alive. Others of a more orthodox upbringing would release such things entirely, but in her mind this was aversion, avoidance, suppression. It would not do.

So much of what they were attempting to teach felt incomplete without her prior experience, enough so to cause a slight worry to creep at the edges of her mind. She wasn’t perfect, but then again no Jedi might ever be. Everything now was riding on the will and whim of others, no matter how narrow minded or sheltered their notions might be. Still, as long as she was alive she discarded such concerns far more easily. The time for such thoughts would pass as she settled once more into a stillness of meditation, maintaining her daily routines as if her master were still there watching.

Her efforts again turned to the war, to bolster those worst hit by the latest aggression from the Sith. Even though without a master to shelter under, there was far too much to do. In the worst moments there were those who still believed in her, and those she maintained belief in. Hope, comradery, love.
It was enough to keep going.

Elsewhere, unknown to her, the screams of her prior suffering had played out. One of her darkest times on recording to entertain the hearts of the most twisted. It would be a wonder if she’d be resilient enough to face the confrontations that were coming…

[Echohawk]

---

Start Looking

---

Dig - Incubus

Checking over what material she could, there was a listless pace to the masterless Jedi. The grounds around the temple, the woods, the Rest were all passing territories in her peripheral vision as her head remained down in some hopes and attempt to uncover something new on her datapad. Even with the recent capture by bounty hunters and the ache of her hand still throbbing there was this insatiable need when it came to finding the next lead. Perhaps a mission, a missive, anything she could next to help. Patient but not passive, those were her own words. Better still it managed to kill the time between fights, between meets, between sessions of meditation. Yet eventually her pace would stop to something unheard…

---

Palming the kyber crystal there would be a continued fixation, uncertainty to accompany the adoration that flowed. It had been some time since the last exchange of the prior keeper. Time and again she’d go over how their next encounter would be, looking up as if to picture the familiar black robes once more. Would he hold hate in his eyes, mourning, suffering or would he be happy to see her. Steeling herself just for the moment that it would arrive, she couldn’t do more than react when it would come, her hope would ever remain clawing. But she could not show him anything else until she was certain how he’d receive it, she’d let him set the tone of that transaction.

Straying further she imagined the sound of his steps along with her, how it would look if he were to carelessly allow himself a moment’s respite in the grass to look skyward, or even the small sound he used to utter upon her arrival. Such details kept the defiant Lord within the front of her memories.

Her thoughts broke away with the crack, the sound of a wooden formed sword striking. A sound to correct her, ending the session within her own mind.

A new little voice gently tugged on a familiar string of words, a string of thoughts to her motivation.

"You loved him didn’t you?"

Turning, she’d blink away the moisture in her eyes. Every day it was that familiar pang of want, that continued denial. So much history and emotion wrapped up in a singular word, it could not do it justice whatever this was.

The company around her had shifted as she drew closer to the clan of Mandalorians, ironic that the foe the Revanites attempted to quash were now the sanctuary she took refuge in. Each day a step, ascending in regard and understanding. Those who insisted she need to let go she decidedly ignored, building instead further, navigating this path of the forsaken. Whatever material needs, whatever credits, whatever effort she could give to others it was theirs to now take. It would never pay back what had been given unto her.

Some faces coming, others going, from Initiates to Masters… she felt smaller. But such things need not matter so long as her strides continue, the path ongoing. No matter what time of day, what hour of need she could reach down to her reminder. Now back to waiting for the next task, yearning still to make an impact, to be heard.
To do just one thing right.

[Echohawk]

---

Even in the dark.

---

Ambient accompanying music - House of the Dragon, The Black Council / Dragon Riding

There are times you find yourself actively walking towards the trouble. Soldiers do so at the command of their officers, explorers plunge into the dangers of the unknown, and when she strode up that ramp after being told it was a place where no good Jedi would go… well how could she say no?

Encountering her foe once more in the flesh was not on the agenda that day, but few things likely were given how placidly it had started. Malak’s overbearing presence that would crush her with a whim were she alone, though at least this time she was not. The sounds of plasma cutting the air, there would soon be the scent of cauterized blood and flesh to follow.

Of all the sabers, all the colors she’d witness, her eyes would go white that day. The saber cutting across her visage to try and stop her and after all her experiences, of all people, to be cut by it was a Jedi Master. Yet still, there were orders to follow. This man who had looked upon her with suspicion was so ready to leave this life and what was to come after behind.
And all she could think was, ’Oh no you don’t. If I have to live through this, so do you.'

---

Hearing the words of fury, of judgement spiraling around her she felt a familiar flow of animosity. It was the same wariness, condemnation, and weight of divide that had encircled her before. While the feeling no longer flowed as often or as harshly towards her she had to look through the winds to see the man on his knees now beside her, before her. They were right to be disappointed, but this went far further. Finally her opportunity had come and with a tender respectful permission, she approached.

"Who am I to judge?"

When she looked upon him for what might be the last time, she didn’t say goodbye. She had no need to say farewell to one she’d meet again in the Force. Closure was a new feeling for her, too often the corpses of the fallen were all that greeted her, the memories the only lessons and words to be passed on. This time she’d finally get the chance to speak her heart, the words she’d wished she could’ve told herself when their places were reversed. He that spoke of his hope in her, she intended to grant back, and if nothing else she did try…

"Remember that which you kept. That which brought you out of that misery, that certain end."

As their words ended, the guards leading the former master back inside, by the Force she couldn’t be more grateful, more honored. At her side the kyber was starting to warm without her touch or urging, she couldn’t help but notice and draw it out seeing the life starting to return to it. Her eyes widening, freshly damp from having clawed life back. It was wakening to her. The voice once so fleeting and small gently pulsed along with her own heart.

"They understand. And you have accepted. One can always find the light, they need only look for it." Within her form emerged a sublime joy, overcoming prior divides of time and perspective, she brought it up in her palms up to her heart. Anyone watching from outside would see only her silent, as were such moments in the Force.

---

The Force Theme

---

"I see a real Jedi… someone who is not restrained by fear anymore. One who understands."

Something sent out ahead of her, she would have to wait and face whatever it might be. Just what had the departing Master done?

[Echohawk]

---

New Strength

---

Water Tribe Trance

Managing the calibrations for the ISS Thorn’s rail gun emplacements there was a new degree of stress to add to her growing collection. The local orbit was filled with debris, hatred, and schemes, yet all she could contemplate in the haze of it all was ensuring statistically that shots were landing and the bulwark of the attackers was weakening.

When adjustments were made to take a broadside hit for the Bastion from Meteor’s main canon, apart from the frantic calls of the pilots and engineers to adjust and brace, there was that harrowing moment when the view screen aligned with the barrel. And yet if this was the last sight she were to see, it would’ve all been worth it. Calm, clear minded, ready…

With doubt stilled the kyber had little reason to speak in her idle thoughts as she carried herself. Instead the Master’s softer tone cut in between her duties. Contemplative, a far different kind of training.
"You don’t like being alone, do you Kathea?"
Something had given way in him enough now that she noticed it, but couldn’t say more.

The shot fired, the battle continued. Far more damage to sustain that day. A sting of betrayal ignited her veins, but she could not permit herself to act on it and give in. Still the fire was there, recalling the bridge suddenly shattered, the aligning weapon that was meant to be turned on them. Always a good reminder, her thoughts lingered on Valerius before the gentle pulse of warmth at her side brought her back to the moment. Training would continue.

Two days later…
Returning to the temple in some haste, her footfalls would splash the puddles of still water that collected between the frequent Viscaran rains. She recalled how her Master and she had always been so dejected to see these proud animals laid low for the sake of the hunts, and perhaps one day soon it would still perish. Just not today. While her chest was straining to catch up with the spirited and swift return, she’d find him as she so often did meditating quietly as if nothing had ever changed.

As the container of mucus was brought in and handed over to a researcher and archivist, she could see the widening of eyes as the labeling was inspected and compared with the consistency of the contents.

• Fauna: Dathomiri Chirodactyl •
• Physical Status: Healthy, Alive, Male •
• Estimated Age: Elder; Decades to Centuries •
• Specimen Collected: Nasal Mucus •
• Some dust and other contaminants may be within the sample. •

Contesting cyclopian natives in territory. Locational data - Impassable mountain region
-66.22° N; -124.71° W

"How in the Force did you…?"
With a little residual moisture she’d not yet cleared from her cheek that further accented the lightsaber burn across her face there was only a tired token smile. Explaining the brisk sneeze she’d endured while the animal examined her, there was both a smile and slightly paling complextion at the recounting. As she gave the story she stood taller in that moment, aligned in more ways than physical, reality with her desire.

Once she was done submitting the material, there was little time to even be celebrated or savor the day. There was matters to discuss with a Mandalorian. One last task before she’d go and tend to herself, you couldn’t be everywhere at once you know?

[Echohawk]

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War Song

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Imagine Dragons - Bones

Never in all her days did she imagine being in a foot race with a Mandalorian. There were times being smaller wasn’t really an advantage, and she wasn’t about to reach into the Force to cheat and catch up. Alarms blaring, carbon scoring and scorch marks littering the way, the remains of droids and the fallen providing little deterrence. The bridge would be taken with ease at last. She had lost, and yet all she could do was raise her arms in salute, in triumph.

Piece by piece, bite by bite every victory would be the momentum needed. She wasn’t afraid to claw at every chance that she was allowed. And while she didn’t share quite the wanton lust for war and death, she didn’t carry the mournful reserve of each life lost upon her shoulders. It had to be done.

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Rogue elements, the tearing of bodies in the midst of the hunt. New and returning foes, there was almost an amusement to how much she’d changed and how little some things ever did. Some traps would need to be planned and set, hopefully her experience would help end some of these troubles that much more quickly. To some this would be a trial they needed to experience, it certainly had helped pave her own path…

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Just as many times in passing, she found herself at the back of the temple. Alone, or at least alone enough to savor some tea she’d bring out to enjoy under the shelter of the cascading trees. A decent vantage point to the curious shrine that was hosted out along the stark western cliff’s edge. There was a quiet pang of longing to have some quirky gonk droid catch her off guard, that usual frost that entered her veins in sheer anxiety at the approach of one of the Masters. She’d been left alone at least, appreciating that, but also not denying missing Gael’s antics now.

To anyone else she would be seated alone, but within her mind, within the Force there was another robed figure in unseen emerald sharing the time with her. A small space she created for herself to simply think and remain aware. Noble hope felt a little different now, not tainted but aged in a refining way. Mirroring the action though only in spirit, it was the reflection that helped her open up, he’d fill the space she wished another would.

"They still see no value in it, so few have the insight to reconcile that there can be pieces of light in the dark. It’s all so monochromatic, so binary, and unyielding."
The mug felt rather comfortable in her fingers as the breeze brought in cooled lakefront air over the cliff. The trees rustled gently, leaves falling from time to time. It was a peaceful moment, an idyllic scene for the anguish that was gnawing away inside.

"They will never forgive you, they will never see anything else. So few will ever believe, but that’s not something you took from them… they chose that themselves."

There was a pinch in her expression as she heard it, these were less new revelations but her own mind speaking truths she had endeavored to avoid or suppress. Tolerated, kind, wise, didn’t matter much when the perception remained unchanged. The emerald shape gently rising to come sit with her, behind her and holding her. Silently she wished the Force would make it someone real, someone she knew, but it would only ever be her.

They wanted to try and draw her away with a new promise of power and belonging, her head could only shake. She would wait until his fate was decided, this she resolved, this she chose and decided. Gael was starting to understand, but Jerr had far more readily known. Anything short of it would be regression, would be a deviation, would be compromise. There were so many others who yearned to ascend, they’d have to force her if they wanted something else. Wouldn’t be the first time now, and she knew the damage it would cause would be nigh absolute.

At least there was quiet, and tea. Forgetting the moisture that ran down one of her cheeks. Things had slowed, there was some agony in being patient even without any promise of the outcome, but she wouldn’t yield. She’d not be lost in this unsustainable cycle, she’d witnessed how those who give in and feel compelled are only gradually pressed and eroded. Surviving the Sith, now surviving the Jedi, at least for now.

A Sith who was trained to hunt Sith. She knew was how to fight, focus, hunt.

But one must remember, and if need be learn, to live.

The cracks were showing again, she’d need to mind that.