Author's Note

For those of you who have been reading since Chapter 1, I condensed the first five chapters into two chapters. This new chapter was originally Chapter 6 but is now Chapter 3! Enjoy, everyone! For those of you who are Dawn of the Jedi era lovers/experts, you'll love this chapter. I've written my own interpretation of the vague events of the city of Aurum. Feedback is appreciated!

Chapter 3

35,370 B.B.Y.

Delroth was dying . . . and there wasn't anything Jamous could do about it. Over the past twenty years, he had watched the twi'lek age and wither. He had spent thirty years with Delroth. The hermit had taught Jamous everything he knew about combat, hunting, and many other things. He had been sitting by Delroth's bedside for three days now, feeding him and taking care of him.

The twi'lek put his withered hand on Jamous's. "My time has come, old friend."

Jamous tried to be optimistic. "Don't talk like that, Delroth. You're going to be fine. You always get a little weak when the seasons change. You know that."

There was a sad twinkle in the hermit's eyes. "I'm ninety-three years old. Not all of us are so lucky as to receive the gift that you have been given." He started to laugh, but it quickly transitioned into a throat-mutilating, hacking cough.

"Would you stop being a smart ass," Jamous said, trying to be lighthearted but actually suppressing a sob. "You need to conserve your strength."

After his coughing fit, Delroth was short of breath. "Jamous," he panted, "promise me you'll learn the ways of the Force. Now hold on. Don't interrupting me—I'm dying, you hear? Let an old, senile man have his last words. You were meant to be a Je'daii, Jamous. You are powerful in the Force. Promise me you'll learn. Promise me you'll train. That you'll become a Je'daii."

"But, Delroth, I am too old. I'm fifty-five years old. The Je'daii won't take me. Even if they didn't know my true age, I still look too old."

"No." Delroth had another coughing fit. "There is still a way. On the continent of Kato Zakar there is a large volcano called Sefrin Mountain. At the base of Sefrin is a monastery of renegade Je'daii called the Monastery of the Fallen Arts. These monks will take you in. They will train you in the ways of the Force."

"Delroth—"

"Promise me, Jamous! They lean toward the darker side of the Force, but they will teach you all about it. The galaxy needs a Je'daii like you, Jamous. Promise me you'll learn about the ways of the Force."

Jamous hesitated, then said, "I promise you, Delroth."

And with that, Delroth passed on quietly in the night, becoming one with the Force.

—

Jamous had wept over Delroth's body. The twi'lek had been his mentor and close friend. Over the past thirty years, they had bonded, living the life of hermits. The surrounding villages had called them the Brothers of the Forest. Jamous had built a pyre on the dock and cremated Delroth's body. He smoked a cigarette in honor of his friend and then headed back up to the hut.

Jamous had packed his belongings which wasn't much: two tunics, two pairs of pants, and his sword. He had also taken a pendant that Delroth had always worn around his neck. It was wooden, and there was an etching of an Ak tree in the center if it. As hard as it was to say goodbye to Delroth, Jamous knew that this was the curse of his gift. Those he knew would pass on as time went by while he remained.

By the time Delroth's cremation had ended and Jamous had packed up his things, it was early morning, and he started out on his journey to Sefrin Mountain. He would keep his promise

—

Jamous had a long journey ahead of him. He would have to walk to the city of Aurum. It was a massive metropolis built along the Thyrian Ocean. The ocean bordered the northern coast of Masara, and Edge Forest was closer to the southern coast of the continent. All together, it was about a three hundred kilometer walk. Jamous had started his journey the morning after Delroth had died. The first two days had been uneventful. Jamous had foraged fruits and forest vegetables for food. He'd make himself a fire and sleep till dawn. He had eventually reached the edge of Edge Forest and left it, the first time in thirty years. Upon exiting Edge Forest, Jamous entered the Great Plains, a long swath of verdant plains that stretched on for hundreds of kilometers.

It was on the third day that Jamous had his first setback. He was walking along the dirt path that weaved through the grassy plains, smoking a cigarette, when he came to a wall made of ramshackle durasteel. There were two humans standing behind it, blaster pistols holstered to their hips.

"Whoa there, traveler," the human on the right said with cocky grin. He was bald with a long scar down his left cheek. His companion, a young teenager with a round face and chubby cheeks snickered.

Jamous took a drag of his cigarette. "What's the problem?"

There was an evil glint in the bald man's eyes. "This here is our road. If you want to travel it, you'll have to pay the toll." He spit.

Jamous stubbed his cigarette out under his boot. "And who says I'll use your road? What's to stop me from moving off the road into the grass?"

"This right here," the young teenager said in a high-pitched voice, sounding more whiny than threatening. He patted his blaster pistol.

"It'll cost five dactaries in order to pass through and continue on your journey," the bald man added.

"What if I don't have five dactaries?" Jamous asked, squinting into the sun across the plains.

"Then I'm sure we'll take something of value off of your body."

The fat teenager let out a little mischievous laugh. "Let's gut him, Saul. Right here, right now."

Jamous pulled his sword out of its sheath across his back. "I think you guys should really rethink what you plan to do."

The bald man spit out a giant glob of half-saliva, half-snot. "Listen here. This is our road. We're not looking for trouble. We just expect to be paid by those who travel through here."

"For what reason do I have to pay you?"

"That's not the point. Now be a good man and pay the toll. Then you can go on your merry way, and you'll never see us again."

Jamous eyed the two men as he held his sword by his side. They both had their hands on their blasters though they were still holstered. If Delroth had been here, he would have come to an amicable resolution with the two riff raff. But he wasn't, and Jamous wasn't Delroth. He had his own convictions, his own beliefs. And he knew that scum like these two would rob travellers today, but one day they'd be burning and plundering villages like the Black Doth'won.

It all happened in a space of two seconds. Jamous dropped his cigarette, and before it had even hit the ground, he had raised his sword and let if fly from his hands. The blade raced like a spear through the bald man's chest. He let out a choking gurgle and slowly fell forward, hanging over the flimsy durasteel wall. The teenager let out a cry and fired off a few shots at Jamous, but Jamous had already been on the move. He rolled under the blaster fire and pulled himself over the durasteel barrier. He deflected two punches from the thief before connecting his fist straight in the young boy's fat nose. The boy fell onto his back, his blaster flying free from his hands. Before he could get up, Jamous stomped down on the boy's left knee, breaking his leg. The scumbag screamed in pain, wriggling about. Jamous squatted beside him, looking in his eyes.

"Mercy, please!" the boy cried out in between sobs. His fat face was red and pasty.

"You're going to tell me exactly what I want to know."

"But I don't know anything, sir, I swear, I don't-" the boy shrieked in pain again as Jamous broke his other leg. He let the boy cry and whimper for a few seconds before squatting back down.

"I know you and your pal here are part of a bigger operation. Two scumbags like you don't have the brains to organize anything, even something as simple as a toll road. So please, before I break something else, tell me who you work for."

The boy cried. "We work for Drak Fullon, sir. He's the crime lord of these parts. We toll the roads. About twenty kilometers down the path is Fullon's base of operations. He robs all the merchants of their possessions when they come through. That's all I know! I swear!"

"So you charge them a toll and then you steal from them? That's pitiful." Jamous stood up.

The boy wheezed and coughed. "Will you spare me?" he asked hopefully as he looked up at Jamous towering over him.

"No, I won't." Jamous pressed his boot over the teenager's throat. The boy's eyes grew wide as he tried to lift Jamous's boot and catch a breath. "I know what you will become one day," Jamous said darkly. "And I will not allow you to hurt anyone ever again." The boy struggled and gagged, the veins on his head bulging. He let out one last ragged cough and then died.

After cleaning his sword and dragging the corpses of the bandits into the grass on the side of the road, Jamous continued on his way.

"There's a surprise coming your way, Drak Fullon."

—

Jamous stood amongst the carnage. He had encountered Fullon's camp just before the sun had gone down. The bandit and his gang had tried to rob Jamous. The fight had been quick and brutal, and Jamous had not let a single bandit live. Around him lay the corpses of fifteen scumbags. He had saved Drak Fullon for last. The "crime lord" had begged and pleaded for his life. He offered Jamous money, drugs, and just about everything else in exchange for his life. No words came from Jamous, and he had silently plunged his blade into the gangster's heart.

Jamous knew that Delroth would not have approved of his actions. The old Je'daii held a high belief of the sacredness of all life. But Jamous disagreed. Those that hurt innocents, that preyed on the weak, that murdered the harmless, they were less than nothing, and Jamous had no problem squashing them under his boot like the bugs that they were. Jamous had slowly grown into these beliefs over the past thirty years. While Masara was a beautiful continent, many criminals had come to Edge Forest to prey on the villagers who lived simple lives under the canopy of trees. He had seen firsthand the destruction they were capable of. After the slaughter of the Black Doth'won, Delroth had tried to instill into Jamous the importance of all life. The twi'lek had tried to argue that the Force was in all creatures and that the life force in everything was important to some degree. Jamous had listened at first . . . until he came across a group of bandits raping a woman deep in the forest. To his horror, he realized that these same bandits were the ones he had disarmed and let go free only a few weeks earlier.

Jamous did not think of himself as a hero or a savior. He just knew that he could not let injustice go unpunished. And he would not. He did not agree with the Je'daii way. How could he? They supposedly believed in the higher calling of the Force, but where were they when men in Edge Forest were being murdered, the women raped, and the children slaughtered? They were in their temples, isolated from the struggles of the normal people on the planet of Tython. If they had so much power, if they held such a deep connection to the Force, how could they idly stand by and let others suffer?

When Delroth had mentioned the Monastery of the Fallen Arts, it had piqued Jamous's interest. Although for years he denied it, even up to Delroth's death, Jamous knew he held a connection to the Force. He could feel it deep inside him. Although it was not the bright enlightenment the old hermit had talked about. His connection felt dark, brooding, and tumultuous. He knew of his affinity for the darker side of the Force. If these monks were the ones that were going to teach him how to harness that dark power inside of him, then so be it.

—

When Jamous reached the edges of Aurum, dark storms clouds brooded across the sky. The wind had picked up to a howl, and giant waves from the Thyrian Ocean beat against the walls of the city.

"Looks like there's going to be a bad storm tonight," Jamous said looking up at the sky. He was hoping to catch a transport to Kato Zakar tonight, but that plan was sunk. No one would be attempting to fly in this weather. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

When Jamous was deep in the city, he looked around in wonder. It had been thirty years since he had last been in civilization. All around him, the city bustled with life. Shopkeepers and vendors closed down their shops in preparation of the storm. Many civilians ran into one of the many tall, spiraling towers that covered the city. They towers towered over him, and Jamous strained his neck trying to look to the top of the towers.

It had begun to rain as he exited off the main roads into the back alleys. He needed to find shelter soon. It was going to start pouring. He came across a back-alley cantina called Haven. The cantina was small: one bartender behind a small bar, and about five tables with one for cards. When Jamous entered, the bartender and the only other two patrons looked at him.

"Looking for some shelter from the storm, traveler?" the bartender asked. He was a Bith with pale skin and large eyes.

Jamous sat at the bar on one of the three bar stools. "Yes, looks like it's going to be a bad one tonight."

"We've had worse," the Bith replied, but there was a loud cackling of lightning that joined the cacophonous rumble of the ocean's waves beating on the city's walls that contradicted him. "What can I get you?"

"A beer, cold and frothy."

It wasn't long before Jamous had downed the cold beer, wiping the froth from his lips.

"Give me another one, keeper." By now the rain was coming down so hard and the thunder and lightning was so loud that Jamous had to raise his voice considerably to be heard. The bartender handed him another beer, and Jamous was about half-way through it when lightning struck, causing a loud ring and a thundering crash. The ground began to shake.

"What the hell?" the barkeeper exclaimed as the shaking caused the bottles and glasses to start falling off the shelves behind him. They broke upon impact, adding to the noise of the storm.

Jamous stood from his bar stool, trying to keep his balance as the ground shook. He could hear screaming outside. Upon exiting the cantina, a horrific view greeted him. Through the pouring rain, one of the many towered buildings had been struck by a fierce bolt of lightning, causing it to crumble to the ground. "No . . ."

A twi'lek ran by him. There was a clear look of fear on her face. "Hey!" Jamous stopped her. "What's going?"
"The storm is too strong!" she said in a panic. "You see the buildings. They're coming down! The sea is churning mightily. The city walls aren't going to be able to hold against the waves! We need to leave the city!" She began to run down the alley, not looking back.

Another bolt of lightning struck a tower right above Jamous. It sounded like the shattering of glass, and debris began to fall down on him in the alley. He retreated back into the cantina and began to gather his things. "I wouldn't stick around," he said to everyone in the bar. "It's looking bad out there." And with that, he disappeared into the rain.

By the time Jamous had gotten back on one of the main roads of Aurum, there was mass chaos. People were carrying what possessions they could and were trying to flee the city. Looters destroyed shopfronts and ransacked them. At least four more towers had fallen from the wind and lightning. There was a thick cloud of dust that blanketed the city, not even the pouring rain could keep it down. A giant rumble drowned out everyone's screams as four more towers in the skyline of the city fell. Now was the time to leave.

Jamous followed the crowd down the main road back to the Great Plains. People fell and were trampled by the mass exodus of those fleeing. The fear was palpable. He could feel it rolling off of everyone. He couldn't explain it, but this made him feel stronger, more powerful. He felt his legs run faster, his breathing steady out. Jamous was running when he saw a young girl starting to fall. He slowed his pace and caught her, preventing her from being trampled to death. The girl didn't thank him or say a word; she just kept running. Jamous didn't blame her.

He was about to take off, back into the fray, when the loud screech of tearing durasteel pierced the rumble of falling towers and screaming of endangered city dwellers. Many people who were running stopped and looked towards the sound. Jamous's blood ran cold.

The walls fending off the giant waves of the Thyrian ocean had broken. It had only been a matter of time. On the opposite side of the city, a giant wall of water three kilometers high came slamming into the city streets, swallowing buildings and pedestrians alike. Many of the people around Jamous did not begin to start running. They fell on their hands and knees, accepting their fate. But not Jamous.

He began running, as fast as he could toward the Great Plains. Today was not his day. Although he was now fifty-five years old, his body was that of twenty-five, and he also had another enhancement the others didn't: the raw, untethered power of the darker side of the Force. He moved faster than any normal human should have, weaving through the crowd and jumping over obstacles. He could feel the rumbling of the giant tsunami wave getting closer and closer. The water slapped against everything in its way, swallowing it it up, the sound beckoning to Jamous, to let it swallow him whole. He was just at the edge of the city, the verdant fields of the Great Plains before him when the buildings started to crumble and cave around him. Large chunks of debris rained down on him, but none of it hit Jamous. He knew when to move, when to weave. It was the Force guiding him. He had never felt so connected to it before this.

Jamous had made it into the fields when the tsunami wave broke back in the city. A large tide scooped him up, propelling him deeper into the plains. When the tide had reached its climax, it dumped him face first into the wet grass. He was battered and bruised but alive.

The destruction of Aurum was absolute. After Jamous had collected himself, he had walked up a hill that had overlooked the city. There was debris and rubble everywhere. The entire city was flooded. The tsunami wave that had hit Aurum had scattered bits and pieces of the city all over the Great Plains. There were bodies floating face-down in the water. The carnivorous birds of Tython were already in the sky, flying in circles around a feast. Jamous saw all of this while sitting cross-legged and smoking a cigarette.

Eerily, it was calm now. Still very cloudy, but the storm had subsided. It was as if the storm had come only to claim Aurum and its inhabitants. It did what it came to do, and that was that. Reflecting on what had passed only hours ago, Jamous came to a realization as he lit himself a fresh cigarette. He had felt more powerful, more in tune with the Force, during the death and destruction of the storm. It was as if he had fed off of the fear of those trying to escape the storm's wrath. Their deaths had saved his life. Jamous did feel sorrowful about the loss of life. He really did. And yet, he was also thankful. It was selfish—he knew. But still, the chaos had only made him more powerful, more focused.

I have a natural affinity for the darker side of the Force. I see that now. Clearly.

The sound of propulsion engines unmuted the silence after the storm. Jamous looked up to see five Je'daii transports fly past over him and circle the destruction. He had started to gather his things and leave when one of the transports broke off from the rest and headed toward him. Knowing that they were going to want to talk to him, he stood his ground and lit another cigarette, trying to appear nonchalant. The grass rippled as the transport came to a landing. The bay door opened up and a human woman dressed in the traditional Je'daii robes walked out and towards him. She had long brown hair with streaks of gray, and white tattoos on her face and hands.

"Did you see the destruction?" she asked, getting straight to the matter at hand.

"I did." Jamous took a drag from his cigarette.

"How did it happen?"

"Lightning struck down many of the city's towers, crushing many of the people on the streets. In the end, a giant wave broke through the city walls and destroyed the city."

The Je'daii did her best to mask the horror as he described the city's destruction, but Jamous could see it in her eyes. "How could this happen?" she asked herself as she gazed upon the lost city.

Jamous took one last drag of his cigarette and flicked the butt into the grass. "Tython is not meant for those of us not touched by the Force. You Je'daii are so focused on yourselves, so wrapped up in exploring the Force, studying it, pushing its limits, that you fail to realize that for your every action there is a reaction by the planet. You would probably say that this total destruction was unforeseen. I say that some old, decrepit Je'daii scholars cooped in the tower of one of your temples were dabbling in the Force in a way they shouldn't. This is Tython's response."

The woman took a step back as Jamous said these words, as if she had received a verbal slap to the face. "What is your name?" she asked with no response to his previous statement.

"Jamous," he replied. "Jamous Devven."

"Well, Jamous, I'm guessing Aurum is no longer your destination. I can give you a lift to Bodhi, and then you can find transport from there."

Jamous had felt bad for how harshly he had scolded her. He replied more softly, "Thank you. I'd really appreciate that."

The Je'daii looked once more at the destruction of Aurum. "You are right about one thing, Jamous. Tython is not suitable for non-Force users, and it's time the Je'daii did something about it."

When they had made there way into the transport and buckled themselves in, she in the pilot seat and Jamous in the copilot seat beside her, the Je'daii introduced herself as Lyn Mazloff. She was the headmaster of the temple Bodhi. They had been up in the air and flying for ten minutes in silence when Lyn finally broke the silence. "That pendant you're wearing, where did you get it?"

Jamous grabbed the pendant around his neck. "It used to be a close friend's. A brother and my mentor. He was a hermit in Edge Forest. His name was Delroth."

Lyn let out a sad sigh. "Delroth Mak'ki."

Jamous raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You knew him?"

"I did. He was a good man. I trained under him at Bodhi when I was still just a learner."

"He had told me that he was a teacher there once upon a time."

She nodded. "Yes. That sword you have. A Je'daii sword. Forged at Vur Tepe. I take it that Master Mak'ki gave that to you?"

"He did. I was with him for thirty years before he passed on."

It was Lyn's turn to raise her eyebrows in surprise. "So he must have found you as a small child."

Jamous hesitated, mentally kicking himself for being careless. "Yes," he lied. "Delroth took me under his wing and cared for me."

The Je'daii Master didn't say much else, and neither did Jamous. They spent the rest of the hour-long journey in silence. When they had landed on top of Bodhi and exited the transport, Lyn showed him where he could find transport to Kato Zakar.

"Kato Zakara is a dangerous place," she said as they were about to part ways. "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"I think I can handle it," Jamous replied as he shouldered his pack.

"Jamous," Lyn stopped walking and looked at him, deep in his eyes. "I sense a turbulent destiny surrounding you. You have a deep and raw connection to the Force. It's dark and untamed. Take care of yourself."

"I will, Lyn. Thank you for the ride." The Je'daii turned and walked down into the temple. Jamous watched till she was gone.

It was time to get back on the road. It was time to train. Most importantly, it was time to learn how to tap into this dark Force. Jamous lit a cigarette and went to find transport to Kato Zakara.