Chapter One
The Jedi Temple on Coruscant
Present Day
"The Jedi Council hereby recognizes Logan Vriel as a Jedi Knight," announced current Master of the Order Cortrian X'ail in his unique, mystifying voice. He was standing in for the currently missing-in-action Grandmaster who would normally announce the decision of the Council. Sen felt a flood of relief as he watched, from the doorway into Council Chambers, his Padawan kneel before Master X'ail. He smiled as Logan's braid fell onto the glistening floor and rested there, the severed end now charred from the heat of Master X'ail's sky-blue lightsaber.
Fifteen years to the day have passed since Logan unceremoniously came to be under the tutelage of Sen Gran'do. Fifteen years since two more Jedi fell to the blade of the infamous Hawk Gran'do, now Darth Malus. That day lingers forever in Sen's memory, burned into his very soul.
"Hawk, stop this!" shouted Sen, his own blade intercepting his brother's as it came all too close to Kendrick's neck. "Leave them out of this! This feud is between you and me!"
But there was no response. Reasoning with a man without morals is like trying to teach a bantha how to pilot a swoop: try and try as you may, you will never succeed.
Despite the obvious numerical advantage the four Jedi held, they were making no progress against the overwhelmingly superior Hawk. His snow-white blade seemed to be everywhere at once, blocking, parrying, and redirecting strikes from any and every angle. Here, indeed, was a true master of Makashi, lightsaber combat in its most refined form. It relied not on brute strength, but on precision. Only after decades of rigorous drilling could one attain the mental and physical coordination to bring out the full potential of Form II.
The four Jedi surrounded Hawk, attacking from every possible angle. Yet they were losing. Kendrick and Logan were tiring far too swiftly to continue fighting for much longer. In his short time under Sen's tutelage, Kendrick had made much progress, but this opponent was too much for him. Too much for all of them. Logan seemed to be faring better than Kendrick, but unless Sen could get them away from Hawk, they would not survive this fight. Accepting that this was the only way to protect the Padawans, Sen gathered the Force to himself. It surged in him like a river, and he let it loose—but not at Hawk. The two Padawans' eyes widened as they were sent flying away from the fight. Hawk, too, was caught off-guard by this, just enough to cause him to poorly execute a riposte, resulting in Anya's lightsaber carving a deep gash in his right shoulder.
Letting out an audible grunt of pain, Hawk suddenly switched stances. He shifted from his passive Makashi defense, to the far more aggressive form of Ataru. He leapt high into the air, flipping over Anya and sending a snap-kick to her lower back. She let out a low yell as she stumbled forward, but her yell fell silent as the smell of burnt flesh filled the air. Anya fell to her knees, staring down at the white beam of energy now protruding from her abdomen. She looked up at Sen for a brief moment before falling limp onto the snow.
"That's one," stated Hawk matter-of-factly. "Two left, brother." He turned his head towards the just-rising Padawans, whose faces shifted from a look of confusion to that of sheer horror as they saw Anya's limp corpse resting in the snow. They dug their forgotten hilts out of the snow, igniting them as they stood up. Sen shook off his lingering sadness and distress, calling out to the pair:
"No! Leave now! You are no match for him—don't let Anya's sacrifice be in vain! Leave!"
But no amount of coaxing could change the minds of these emotionally overwhelmed Jedi. They shouted and ran once more into the battle. Sen hung his head momentarily in defeat before turning to his brother who still stood over the motionless body of Anya. The Jedi Master raised his weapon once more and engaged his brother in battle.
It was over before it started. Hawk was done toying with the Jedi, now; whereas his Makashi was the pinnacle of lightsaber defense, his Ataru was a near-unstoppable offense. His blade was a blur as it seemed to connect with all three of the Jedi's lightsabers simultaneously, forcing them to stumble back awkwardly as Hawk continued to push forward. The advancing did not cease, even when his blade met not with a clash, but with a death throe. Jedi Padawan Kendrick Goldstar fell to the floor in two pieces mere moments into the fight. Sen and Logan could not waste any time mourning, for there was no pause in the battle for lamenting for the fallen. In battle, your entire being must be handed over to the Force. You must surrender yourself to it. It is your greatest ally, and without it there can be no victory.
"Master Gran'do?"
Sen snapped out of his daze, and blinked away the last lingering images of the past. This was a momentous occasion for Logan; he best not ruin it by dwelling on what cannot be changed. The Force was a powerful entity and could do many things, but to Sen's knowledge it could not alter reality. Anya and Kendrick were gone—that is reality. Logan is his apprentice—no, Logan was his apprentice. He was a fully-fledged Jedi Knight, now.
"Ah, yes. I'm here, Logan," he said, smiling as Logan approached him. "Congratulations. How does it feel to be a Jedi Knight?"
"Oh, not as differently as I thought it would. I suppose it will take some time for it to really sink in."
Sen chuckled. "Don't worry. You'll realize soon enough how different things are once you become a Knight. Pretty soon you'll have to choose a Padawan of your own, you know."
"I eagerly await that day, Master," Logan replied with a grin. But the grin faded away slowly. "I just wish Master Grace were here," he added, his voice full of regret and sadness. Sen placed a hand firmly on his former Padawan's shoulder.
"Anya would be so proud of you, Logan. I know I am. But we must not live in the past. Do not linger on what has already occurred; let your focus be on the here and now." Sen realized as he spoke how hypocritical his words were. He was preaching something that he himself has, for fifteen years, been unable to practice. That day haunts him and, Sen surmised, would continue to haunt him until he can come to terms with it. He knew there was only one way to do that, and Sen wasn't sure if it was something he could do. But Sen's thoughts were interrupted as Master X'ail spoke up once again.
"While you two are here, the Council would like to present you with your next mission. I know it is soon, but this mission is urgent and we have very few Jedi available who could handle this job." Cortrian waved his hand, and the lights dimmed. The holoprojector situated in the center of the room flickered to life, projecting the image of a barren desert planet into the room.
"Korriban," muttered Sen. He knew the planet well, and was beginning to have his doubts about whether just he and Logan could handle what the Council was going to send them to do.
"Indeed, it is Korriban," acknowledged Cortrian. "It is a planet that reeks of the Dark Side, and is riddled with innumerable burial sites of Sith Lords long dead." He hesitated a moment before adding, "However, we have recently discovered that it is also the base of operations for Darth Malus' Sith Order."
Nothing was said for a long while before Logan spoke up. "What do you want us to do, Master?"
Cortrian looked him in the eye and said, "Whatever is necessary to stop him. Violence is always the last resort, Jedi Vriel. But this man is the galaxy's greatest threat right now. He must be stopped."
Logan simply nodded and bowed. He turned to Sen who was staring blankly at the ground now. "Master? Will you be alright for this?"
Sen turned to him, and in a tone of resignation he replied, "Whether or not I am ready to face my brother is irrelevant now. It is something that I must do."