CHAPTER 4

Find Your Destiny

"Old age should burn and rave at close of day."

Naboo, 14 BBY

Enforcement Precinct

Elias Kelham was not happy.

After five years of prosperous business endeavors under the rule of the Empire, as well as having just about every Imperial authority in Theed in his pocket, he was suddenly strapped to a chair in the exact precinct he owned.

"Get me out of these restraints," he protested to no one in the room, but knew the camera would pick it up. "Real funny you backstabbers have me locked up like this."

The door slid open, and in walked two black-dressed humanoids with their faces covered by interestingly shaped helmets. His eyes narrowed in confusion. "Who the hell are you two clowns?"

Neither of them said anything. The male positioned himself directly in front of him, while the caped female took a cross-armed stance beside him.

"We have reason to believe you're supporting insurgents, Elias Kelham," the woman spoke first, her voice heavily augmented. "You're going to tell us who."

"The only person I'm talking to is my advocate," Elias stated with finality. Who the hell were these circus performers?

"Here's how it works," the male spoke in front of him. "We ask a question; you answer a question. You speak when you're spoken-,"

"Who the fuck do you think-," he interrupted, only to see the male swipe his hand down, followed by a hard punch to his temple from the female.

"Mr. Kelham, I don't believe you were paying attention," the male continued to elaborate.

"Nice, honey tits," Elias chuckled. "You just handed me your job. Hit me again and I'll take your money too."

"I'd watch your mouth if I were you," the male warned. "She tends to get a bit crazy sometimes, especially when little shits like you call her that."

Elias smiled to himself. Whoever these bastards were, they would be paying for this tenfold. "What are you, her little bitch?" he then turned back to the woman. "What sweetheart? You gonna bore me into confessing? You ain't shit. Come on, hit me. I dare-,"

"Works for me," she said, and then punched him again, this time drawing blood and threatening to break his nose.

Now he was pissed.

"Do you know what I'll do to you when I get out of here?" he threatened.

She seemed completely unfazed. "Keep it up, little man. You'll leave here in a bag."

"Go to hell!" he spat.

Fully expecting her to attack again, Elias watched them both step away, conversing with each other quietly, which just felt like a waste of his time. "Are we done here, because I got people to see." he stated, and they both turned back his way. "Like the guy whose gonna sue your ass for assault."

The woman stepped forward, and he instinctively reared back, but the man held out his arm in front of her. "You think she's the bad cop and I'm the good cop?" he asked, crossing his arms. "We're both the good cop. The bad cop is outside Elias, waiting to hear your decision."

He paused. That didn't sound like something he could walk out of.

"That a fact?" he asked.

The male leaned into the female. "There's a trauma center near here right?"

She shrugged. "I heard it's not always fully staffed. Not since the Empire started taking control of all-,"

"Look, you fucking idiots, I don't support insurgents, and even if I did accidently, I would've reported-,"

The door opened. "Who are you two, get away from my client!"

About damn time he showed up. His human advocate looked at his two masked interrogators, obviously livid, as he should be. "You two are going to be buried in so much litigation and red tape, it's not even funny. Who are you anyway? More secret police?"

The male crossed his arms. "I'm the Second Brother, and this is the Second Sister. We're Imperial Inquisitors, which means we can do whatever we want."

"Inquis-," the advocate began.

"So you can turn around and get the hell out."

"This is-,"

"Perfectly legal. Yes, it is. Close the door behind you."

The advocate turned to Elias. "I'll contest this Elias, I'll take it all the way to the Emperor himself."

"Yeah well, I killed Xur Eon, so," the Second Brother shrugged. "Good luck with that."

"Sirs," a black and red armored trooper called from the door. "We've got something you should see."

The Inquisitors looked to each other, and then reluctantly began to walk out.

"Thanks for the information Mr. Kelham," the Second Sister sneered. "I'm sure you'll feel better tomorrow."

"Better than you will, you bitch! When I get my comm-link back I'm gonna-,"

"Elias, as your legal advocate, I advise you to shut the hell up."

"Where were you?"

"Held up in traffic."


"I told you these damn Naboo are slippery little bastards. They've always got their advocates right behind them any time trouble walks up," Xur explained as he and Trilla ascended the loading ramp into the imperial shuttle, its engines whirring for takeoff.

"I should've broken his fingers from the start," Trilla suggested. "He would've squealed his confession then and there."

The landing ramp shut and Xur shook his head. "No, he was telling the truth. Men like him don't risk their necks for allies, no matter who they are. If you started doing that, he would've said anything to get you to stop."

"You say that like it matters if he's truly guilty or not."

Xur stopped himself from revolting in disgust. "Yeah I'd say it fucking matters. What good is a scapegoat when he knows nothing about the organization we're trying uproot?"

"I've told you this before, Brother," Trilla insisted with a pointed finger. "You tell your superiors what they want to hear. Nothing else matters."

The zabrak crossed his arms and sighed. "Right, right but that's not efficient, I mean look at-,"

"Nothing else matters," she reiterated, and then left him, heading up to the cockpit.

He smiled to himself as she left. He'd be exploiting the shit out of that once he got himself out of here.

Once she was out of earshot, one of the Purge Troopers removed his helmet as he strapped himself in. "Didn't go as planned, eh kid?" he asked.

"No," Xur sighed, taking the seat next to him and removing his own helmet, ruffling the short black hair that he hadn't bothered to shave. "Not this time LC," which was an acronym for Lieutenant Commander. "You know how the Sister is."

The trooper was a middle-aged male, rather large, but still fit for his frame. His face was battle-hardened but also inviting, his beard beginning to grey.

"Afraid you know I can't comment on that," he grunted, pulling up his modified DC-15A blaster rifle, wiping off dirt with his glove. "Happen to like being alive."

Xur chuckled. "I already promised I'd back you up, Blaze."

"Oh, I remember," he huffed, working on a spot where grime had built up. "Still, I like to keep my working relationships positive, regardless of how I feel. I've found that keeping it professional in this Empire actually is a good way to stay alive."

"You two aren't planning insubordination without me, right?" another trooper asked, this one looking more like an ARC Trooper, just with Purge armor. He was certainly a Jango Fett clone, one of the last still in service, Xur figured.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Commander," Xur greeted as the shuttle began to rumble, leaving the surface. "You're my go-to for disaster and hopeless situations, remember?"

"Just making sure you didn't forget," he said, taking the seat next to Xur, his DC-17 holsters rubbing up against him in the tight space. "I'd hate to feel left out."

All three strapped in, the shuttle left Naboo's atmosphere and out of orbit, reducing the rumbling to the mere shimmer of the engines.

"Any idea where we're off to next Boss?" the Commander asked.

Xur shrugged. "Hell if I know, Archer. I'm not calling the shots for this one," he said, just as the cockpit door opened. "That responsibility falls to our illustrious Second Sister."

"I need a word with you, now," Trilla commanded, her mask still covering her face as she strolled out of the cockpit. "Commander Archer, get me everything you have on the planet Bracca."

"Yes ma'am," Archer nodded, while Xur stood.

"I could tell you everything you need to know. Bracca's a scrap heap with nothing more than durasteel-devouring monsters and unfavorable weather," Xur explained, recalling from an earlier encounter he had during the Clone Wars. "All we'll find is-,"

"I don't much care about your supposed expertise," Trilla almost spat, ushering him to the small side room of the shuttle, leaving Blaze and Archer behind. Once the door was shut, and they were alone, Trilla removed her helmet.

"There is a Jedi on Bracca," Trilla revealed, setting her helmet down on an outlet desk. "One of our probes spotted a scrap worker saving his friend from a fall using the Force."

Xur didn't react. In his six months undercover, they hadn't run in to a single Jedi, to his luck, making it easy for him to complete crap assignments without doing something he'd truly regret. There were a few things he wished he hadn't been forced to do, but he knew the necessity. Bringing in a Jedi was another matter. Not after what he had seen.

Ironically enough, it was watching Trilla that made him pause. He remembered her from before, such a perfect and unique creature, the light and potential burning within her. She cared so much about helping those in need, even at the expense of herself…and the Empire had ruined her.

That's what they did; take perfect creations of nature and transform them into soulless monsters for their own uses. He'd seen it within all the inquisitors, save the select few that had joined on their own accord, Jedi whose wills had been broken, their souls corrupted and drained of the life that once flourished; psychopaths programmed to hunt and kill on command, and relish in it.

Xur still held out hope for Trilla, despite what she was, but he still had no idea where her hatred stemmed from, the one thing she was never willing to share. If only he could get her to focus and redirect her hatred to those that had destroyed her…

No. Hatred to another side might get her to join him, but it wouldn't bring Trilla back. Xur hadn't felt more helpless every time it crossed his mind. To let go of hatred was to let go of power…power that Xur himself had relied on since the Empire had replaced the Republic.

Was he really any different from her?

He didn't have a good answer. All he knew was that he wouldn't let another Jedi become an inquisitor.

"You sure? You know those probes can be faulty," Xur downplayed. "And it could've been the wind."

Trilla considered his words but shook her head. "No. I can feel it. There's a Jedi down there and I'm going to find him."

"Hey, hey," Xur pointed. "You'd better play nice."

"It's almost as if you don't trust me, Brother."

"It's exactly as if I don't trust you, Sister."

Trilla condescendingly smacked her lips together and caressed his face with the back of her hand. "Awww. And here I thought we were just beginning to get along."

Xur grabbed her wrist and forcefully removed her hand from his face. "As I said before, that entirely depends on you."

"So serious," she mocked. "I almost believed you that time."

She then crept up close to him, running her hands over his chest, whilst bringing her lips to his ear. "Stop pretending to be someone you're not," she whispered. "I know how you feel about me. I can sense it with every breath you take. Every eye you lie upon me is filled with purpose…ambition," she then placed her lips close to his own. "Lust."

"Enough," Xur almost snapped, nearly crushing her in his grip as he grabbed ahold of both her shoulders. That wasn't the first time she had tried to get him to give in to his emotions, but that would only jeopardize his identity. He couldn't, no matter how much he…

No matter how right she really was.

"I'll stop pretending, once you stop pretending to actually care," Xur offered. "Deal?"

Trilla didn't bother pretending to look hurt, caught in her act virtually red-handed.

"No promises."


Bracca, 14 BBY

Passenger Train

Trust only the Force.

Cal Kestis awoke from his reverie, stunned awake by the sudden reappearance of his former late master, Jaro Tapal. It had been half a decade since he had last laid eyes on that man's face, the man who had trained and cared for him while the galaxy was at war.

The man who had been gunned down by his own troops, and he was helpless to stop them.

Since, he had been hiding out where his escape pod had landed him, working as a scrapper of the old warships he used to serve on…warships the Empire had no use for any longer. He was beginning to consider himself good at avoiding the eyes of the Empire, since he had evaded them this long. There were only stories of what happened to his fellow survivors, none of them good, all resulting in their eventual demise.

And now he may be joining them.

Today, he had used the Force, not out of pleasure, but of necessity. His rather large, middle-aged friend Prauf would've met a truly unfortunate fate if he hadn't, falling into the mouth of the creature that swallowed whole starships. Despite the danger, he regretted nothing.

Now the train was coming to a halt, well before their destination.

Cal looked around the car, filled with other scrappers of various races, their ponchos filthy and soaked from the neigh-constant downpour. Prauf, beside him, was holding up rather well, while the same could not be said for Cal.

"Train's stopped," Cal noted, eyes growing wider.

"Yeah," Prauf huffed, rising to his massive feet. "Something's going on."

The doors at the end of the car opened, and out came two stormtroopers, blasters held across their chests. Cal instinctively looked away, although realized that would only make him more suspicious.

"Everybody up, identification ready," one of them instructed, and everyone present complied. As the other situated himself at the other end of the car, the same ordered again. "Move out and line up."

"Probably just another contraband inspection," Prauf downplayed, and Cal hoped and prayed that was the case.

The exit door opened, and the other scrappers made good to comply, exiting into the rain outside. As Cal followed the line in toe, he was greeted by two black and red armored stormtroopers on each side of the door, unlike anything he had ever seen before. In front of him was another, this one much more heavily dressed than the others.

"In line," he pointed, roughly guiding every passerby, his voice exactly a match to that of the clones during the war. Cal complied, finding his spot next to Prauf, just as a TIE Interceptor flew overhead.

Then he saw another man, this one not a stormtrooper, masked…and with a lightsaber on his back.

This was not a contraband inspection.

"Listen up, ladies and gentlemen. The faster you comply, the faster we can all get out of this shitty weather," he grumbled, arms crossed as he paced, head turning to each worker. "Trust me, I don't want to," his gaze stopped on Cal, and he let his eyes wander away.


"-be here either," Xur finished, and he already knew who the Jedi was. Damn Trilla for being right.

Cal fucking Kestis.

The last time he saw the kid was when he was thirteen, about midway through Operation Countdown when he and Master Windu met up with Jaro Tapal for "clean-up". The simple mission turned into a bloodbath, resulting in Xur saving Cal just before a Separatist gunship vaporized the teenager on an overlook. The whole thing was a mess.

This was infinitely worse. Trilla would discover him, without a shadow of a doubt, in fact she probably already knew he was here. Xur wanted to help the kid but doing so without blowing his cover was going to be a tricky maneuver.

Trilla's interceptor had landed, along with the Ninth Sister's attack craft, certainly an unwanted guest that had come to join in on the glory of capturing another Jedi. The hulking inquisitor descended the loading ramp, her red visor covering her missing eye.

"Who the hell invited you?" Xur asked, greeting her.

"I was in town," she sneered. "Besides, the man upstairs didn't think you two could get the job done."

Xur scoffed. "Bullshit."

She shrugged, pushing past him. "Doesn't much matter now, does it? Second Sister still pushing you around?"

"She certainly tries," Xur huffed under his breath as Trilla approached Commander Archer, standing before the scrappers in line. The two of them split off, Xur taking a position at the end of the line, next to Blaze, who held his assault blaster across his chest.

"Is this all of them?" Trilla asked Archer.

"This is all of them, Second Sister," he confirmed, and Xur heard Trilla let out a sigh of annoyance. The zabrak's eyes traced back to Cal, who had his eyes to the ground.

Hang in there kid.


"We seek a dangerous fugitive," the masked woman, who Cal had heard as the Second Sister, began. "This is no common anarchist…but a devotee of the treasonous Jedi Order."

Shit.

His eyes panned up, and the other man was still looking at him, which only spiked his flaring nerves even more. The dowutin pacing behind the Second Sister wasn't helping alleviate his stress either. He had gone so long without detection…how could they have known so quickly?

"Failure to turn over this traitor will result in a charge of sedition," she continued, and he kept quiet. "Turn yourself in, or everyone present will face summary execution."

Blasters pointed and clicked from each trooper, followed by gasps of fear from each of the workers, no knowledge of what was happening, or who these menaces were trying to find. Cal couldn't let them die, but that would certainly result in his own demise…or worse.

Innocents…dying for him…no, he couldn't.

"I think," Prauf stammered, stepping forward in line. "I think it's time someone came forward."

Cal reached out, trying to stop him without revealing who he was, only the fear present on his face, and hoped it would be enough for his friend to back down.

It was to no avail. "I uh," Prauf began, trying to find the words. "I've been working on this heap a long time," he said, looking back to Cal. "Way before the war."

Cal reached behind his back, something he promised himself to only do as a last resort.

"We refitted and rebuilt ships," Prauf continued, turning to the Second Sister. "Best in the galaxy. Then came the Empire…and engineers…became scrappers."

Cal spotted movement from the masked man…his head slightly shaking, eyes fixed on Cal…and his…

His right hand at his side, making gestures…gestures he could read.

Run.

"The workers…just started getting worked."

Dumbass.

Cal looked up to his friend, his hand wrapped around durasteel. "Prauf," he urged. Why this man was telling him to run was beyond him…but he was starting to agree.

"But we all know the truth," Prauf said, pointing to the Second Sister. "We're all just…just too afraid to say it. To the Empire, we're all just expendable."

"Yes," the Second Sister agreed, stepping forward. "You are," before impaling him through the chest with her saber, ending his life in one, shocked gasp.

"No!" Cal screamed, and ignited his blue blade, slashing at the Second Sister only to see it stopped by a crossing crimson one, from the man who had watched him. Through two parries, Cal was far too rusty to compete, and the man broke his guard in a flash, sending him over the edge of the cliff with a powerful Force push.

He tumbled through the air, screaming as the dank air filled his lungs before crashing through the roof of a moving train car on the track below.


Good luck kid.

Xur watched Cal tumble over the edge, knowing there was a track there to catch him, and if he really was still a Jedi, he'd survive.

"Fire!" Trilla growled, her rage bristling in the Force like an erupting cauldron, and the purge troopers executed each of the workers without question. "I had this under control!" she yelled, grabbing ahold of Xur's shoulder and dragging him towards her.

"You let him draw his saber, I don't call that under control," Xur challenged, batting her hand from him. "I'm tired of your games! If you didn't spend so much time giving a speech, we would've had him!"

Trilla paused, and then reared her helmeted head forward. "You say that as if you knew who the Jedi was!"

"And you didn't?!"

"Shut the fuck up, both of you!" the Ninth Sister raged. "The Jedi is escaping!"

Trilla reacted quickly, her arms flailing about as she gave orders. "Commander, I want every spaceport locked down. Find out where that train is going and stop it. All available troopers are to be mobilized. Go!"

Archer nodded in compliance and began to relay her directives to every troop under his command, while the Ninth Sister turned back to her attack craft.

"I'll tail the train," she said, before disappearing up the ramp.

Once all the troops were moving, Trilla turned to Xur with a pointed finger. "You," she seethed. "I will deal with you later."

Xur goaded her as she stormed off to her TIE Interceptor. "Ooooohh that's scary! Go to hell!"

She said nothing as she gunned the engines and took off, leaving just him, Archer and Blaze in the downpour.

The zabrak was truthfully seething inside. This situation was an absolute disaster, and he had no idea how he was going to get Cal Kestis out of it alive. Deep down, he knew killing Trilla would be the most efficient solution, but he wasn't sure he'd live long after doing that, not with now heavy the Imperial presence was at the moment.

No matter how angry he was with her, no matter how evil she had become, he knew he could never look into her eyes and cut her down. It just wasn't possible.

Xur had to find a way for both Cal and Trilla to survive this day.

"Archer, Blaze, in the speeder with me," he called, directing them to the four-seater he had taken in. "We need to catch up."


Cal Kestis didn't make it far, and Trilla made sure of that. Despite the long chase alongside the train system, her soldiers were able to stop the train while the Ninth Sister blew it from the tracks, sending Kestis falling to his death in the canyon below.

Only if an unexpected ship had not saved him.

She didn't care about the stormtroopers the Jedi was carving to pieces on his way, but this nuisance was infuriating. Despite having complete control of an entire planet, there was one irregularity she simply hadn't accounted for…not to mention the incompetence of the Second Brother that lead them here in the first place.

But now she had him right where she wanted.

Setting down her TIE Interceptor on the overlook where Cal had landed from a long fall, Trilla climbed out of the cockpit with haste, but made sure to project an intimidating ease to her approach. It had been awhile since she had faced a Jedi, and to break them before engagement was the most efficient tactic.

Yet the Second Brother's idiocy was still plaguing her.

She needed to stifle herself.

Floating down to the platform where Cal was waiting for her, she landed with a thud. "Going somewhere?" she asked, igniting her crimson blade.

The ginger-haired Jedi was filthy, and if it weren't for the rain, she could imagine it being much worse. Cuts riddled his open areas of his wardrobe, burns on his skin from slides…to the point she had to stop herself from giggling at his current state.

And yet he ignited his blue blade, his will and resolve exactly that of a Jedi.

"I recognize that stance," Trilla noted, slowly pacing towards him. It was basic, but not entirely common either. "Perhaps you've had some training after all?"

Cal said nothing, and Trilla could practically smell his fear.

"Who was your master? Someone I've killed perhaps?" Trilla goaded him, but still no response. "What Jedi gave their life, so that you might live?"

Trilla stepped forward and attacked, her slash parried rather easily by the young Jedi, but no retaliation came. She took that chance to press on, all blocked until they both fell into a saber lock, where her strength won out, dropping him onto his rear. She swung downwards, but he was able to raise one arm and lock blades with her again.

"Give up, Jedi," she said, bearing down on his defense with her might. He grunted, holding it at bay until he broke the lock and rolled over, somersaulting to his feet and falling back into that same stance.

He was frustratingly better than she expected…but he didn't need to know that.

"You're a quick one," she chuckled to herself. "But not quick enough," she accelerated to a blinding speed and swung, forcing Cal to backpedal just to keep her at bay, before Trilla landed a kick to his chest. He grunted and rolled away, trying to regain his breath before falling into yet another saber lock.

Cal's teeth were grit, and Trilla could feel her strength winning out, but the interloping ship appeared from below, its lights illuminating them both. Its forward cannons fired, and the beams exploded, knocking them both away from each other. Trilla landed in a fit of smoke, her mask filtering it out before it infected her lungs. Knowing Cal was probably worse off than she, Trilla rose to her feet and stepped out of the smoke to see him climbing aboard the spacecraft, helped along by…

Cere Junda.

Their gazes met for a moment, and there were no words that could accurately depict the feeling she experienced. To see her old master, the woman who had betrayed her, the woman responsible for her own destitution…she tasted blood.

Once Cal was on board, Cere drew her blaster and fired upon Trilla, who saw each blast coming with ease, sidestepping or deflecting each. She felt like a savage predator advancing upon wounded prey.

"Captain!" Cere shouted, punching the ramp closed.

The ship began to pull away, and Trilla leapt, trying to contort her body in a manner to fit into the closing ramp, but to no avail. Frustrated, she slashed across the door as it closed and grabbed ahold of a bolted grate, her fingers screaming in pain as she dangled.

She'd experienced far worse.

Trilla clambered her way atop the ship, using Force stick to keep her stable as it began to pick up speed. With no regard for her own safety, she jumped to the front a dropped down at the cockpit blast shield, seeing Cere and Cal look on in shock at her sudden appearance and reached out with the Force, wrestling the flight stick from the grip of the lateron pilot. Turning her wrist, the ship spun out of control, trying to force it down.

Cal Kestis wouldn't escape her, and neither would Cere.

Just when she thought she might be able to bring it down, Cere stepped forward and pulled on the stick in the opposite direction, and the resulting force was far beyond what was required to rip her hands free of the ship. With a gasp, Trilla fell, watching as the ship shot off into hyperspace in atmosphere.

Turning back towards the surface in free-fall, she spotted an approaching speeder-car, and the Second Brother waving to her from below. In turn, she began to slow her descent.

The hyperspace discharge ripped through the air, passing through her, and subsequently rendered the speeder-car inoperable. As she landed inside, she could already feel it losing altitude, and the Second Brother tried pulling it back to the ledge where she had dueled with Cal Kestis.

"Shit hang on!" he shouted.

"Reboot the system!" Archer suggested.

"Everything's fried! Hit us with some kind of EMP!"

The speeder-car came up parallel to the ledge. "Jump, now!" he yelled, and she, the Second Brother, Archer and Blaze leapt from the car. The Second Brother made the jump, being the closest, but Trilla and the others had to fire ascension cables above. Archer's landed easily, but both her hook and Blaze's latched onto a rusted pipe that was already creaking under their weight.

As she activated the ascension mechanism, the piping bent, and she could see it beginning to warp, tearing at its cracks. If they didn't lose weight, it would certainly break.

Trilla looked down to Blaze, who was slowly making his way up, but the creaking was making him wary. She looked back up to the pipe, which was only getting worse.

Her crimson blade ignited, and she severed his line.

"No!" the Second Brother shouted and reached out, leaving a boom in the force as he grabbed ahold of Blaze before he fell to his death. Trilla climbed over the side, and the Second Brother grunted and wheezed as he slowly pulled Blaze up and to safety, relinquishing his hold with a gasp.

"What the hell happened?" she asked as the Second Brother stood.

It sounded like a bell rang.

Her mask's carbon-based material cracked where he punched her helmet with force-enhanced strength, popping off her face in a flash. The strike was so powerful it lifted her off her feet and she landed on her side, her ears ringing from the hit.

"Sir, no!" she heard, and she looked up to see both Archer and Blaze holding him back from her, his rage tearing the Force apart. "Stop!"

"You fucking bitch! If I ever catch you doing that again, I'll fucking kill you!" he cursed, leaning forward, but staying behind their arms.

Trilla didn't rub her face, now exposed to the pouring rain. Instead, she smiled. Despite everything that had gone wrong here, she at least had gained something.

Now she knew what got under his skin. At last.


I've been imagining that scene for some time now, so it's good to finally get it out.

Also, I want to say that I won't be describing Fallen Order scenes unless I change something, so most of Cal's journey won't be directly covered (aside from interaction scenes). Instead, because Trilla is the deuteragonist, I will mostly be describing it through her perspective, which I think will be pretty interesting (and keep the story from getting dull). Besides, Cal's journey is up to your own interpretation and gameplay!

If you've enjoyed so far, please leave a review! I'd like to know what you all think. As far as requests go, I ask that you make more story-episode related ones (like specific chapter ideas). I already know how this will end (more or less), so that isn't up for debate, but how we get there is still up in the air! If you want to see more Cal Kestis, I'll try to come up with original adventures for him, so it's something new.

Thanks for reading!

And yes, that first scene was a direct nod to Mass Effect 2.