"I don't like it."
Eirika turns to her brother, her brow furrowed. Grado is a dim and dark planet, a shell of a place that once was— but she knows that isn't what he means. It's this mission, what's been asked of them. Eirika bites at her lip, feeling guilty about the anxiety that curls deep in her gut.
"Ephraim," she starts, but then words fail her. Eirika sighs instead, turning away from him.
"It's unfair," is what Ephraim says next.
Eirika wants to reprimand him for such a thought, but she can't. Even when she thinks about loyalty, and how they serve others. Even when she thinks about how they're only tools for the good of the Galaxy.
This is the only thing that she and her brother have ever known.
And Lyon too, which is why this entire thing feels such a mess.
"We are often tested," says Eirika. Seth's words feel heavy on her tongue, unlike the effortless advice the other Jedi knights impart upon them.
Ephraim scoffs at that and Eirika blinks. Once upon a time, she would've wondered where this angry, annoyed version of her brother came from. But now— she knows, she knows. She wants the emotions that curl about in her gut to feel wrong, but they don't, and for the first time, Eirika wonders what the point is.
"He brought this upon himself," she says, swallowing down stale words that she doesn't really mean.
Ephraim's mouth tugs into a terse frown, but he says nothing.
"Something has to be done," she continues, and with each word, her heart slips a little bit more. "Lyon can't be left to his devices." Eirika reaches out, her fingers tightening against the drab brown of Ephraim's robe.
"He's no longer one of us." Her voice falls soft. "He's fallen to the dark side. And while we might be able to talk him into seeing sense, if we don't…" She falls quiet for a too-long moment. "We will be saving him."
Ephraim sighs, a soft and defeated thing. She's never seen him act like this; Ephraim's always been the prime example of a Jedi knight. Seeing such hesitation on his face feels foreign.
"It'll be impossible," he finally says.
Eirika wants to think that he means saving Lyon from the darkness he's fallen into, but she knows that he means following through with it. They're too close— too close to this.
"The Force," she says, "It'll drive us. We must trust it." For the first time in her life, though, all she feels is the utter emptiness of the Galaxy.
Eirika's never felt so alone.
#
"He has become a liability," said Duessal to them at the start of this nightmare. "He is a danger to himself and the Order, but most importantly, he is a danger to the peace of the Galaxy."
It made sense, at first— sending Eirika and Ephraim. They know Lyon better than they know themselves, young Padawans who'd been raised in the Order at the same time. They'd trained together their entire lives, attached at the hip through thick and thin.
"The Force," Lyon would say as he poured into his studies when they were young, "What a magnificent thing. Imagine the good that we can do with it."
The irony isn't lost on Eirika.
"I'm tired," says Ephraim one night as they settle in. They camp in the wide open because there's so little left in Grado that's a threat. War tore this planet apart over a decade ago and it never really recovered.
Eirika is tired too; her bones ache and her brain churns, and the further they fall into this mission, the more clear it is to her that it's clearly a trap. She remembers what Seth said to her before they'd left—
"Just do what they say," he'd murmured, shaking her by the arms, "There's always been a concern, but this is a test— one that you must pass."
Eirika watches Ephraim from across the fire, sees the way that his face is creased with weariness. Neither of them wants to do this, but that's the thing—
They aren't supposed to care.
There is no emotion; there is peace, she thinks, trying to remember the Jedi Code. It feels sour, though, because they do care, they can't not.
"Seth warned me," she says to Ephraim that night, throwing a dry twig into the fire. "Before we left. Said this was a test for us."
Ephraim doesn't look remotely surprised as he rubs at his brow. "Forde warned me too." He sighs. "I don't think there is a doubt of our loyalty to the Force, but—"
"To the Order," says Eirika. She looks at Ephraim seriously, her mouth set into a grim line. "Tell me, brother, I'm not going to have to hunt you down next, will I?"
When Ephraim looks back at her, his face is unreadable. "It's complicated," is what he says.
It answers nothing and everything in one fell swoop, but most importantly—
"I've never thought about it until now," says Eirika quietly, "How at odds we are when it comes to the teachings. This must be why they encourage such detachment."
"'Jedi must not have wants; only self-reliance'," quotes Ephraim, ruefully.
"I've never wanted much until recently, and even now, I only want things to end well." Eirika pauses, worrying her fingers against the rough linen of her robe. "I'm surprised that Seth warned me."
Ephraim snorts at that. "Even Jedi can't help but care. Forde is just as worried, as is everyone else. It's unrealistic to expect attachments to not form just because we're told not to entertain them." He falls quiet. "But, I agree— I only want it to end well, however that might be."
"Ephraim," she says, "Please be honest with me, and not as a fellow Knight, but as my brother. Have you lost faith in the Order?"
His mouth twists into a pained frown as he watches the glow of their fire. Eirika knows, she can see it plain as day, and the worst part is that she understands, she feels such similar things deep in her core. It's entirely at odds with everything that she's ever been taught.
"We shouldn't," said Master Hayden when she and her brother were brought to Magvel all those years ago, "Siblings— and twins at that, such a liability."
And yet, they'd been chosen to fulfill a duty that so few can.
"To the east, then," says Ephraim finally. He doesn't answer her question. In the distance looms the shadow of what was once a vast palace.
Eirika watches the fire too, taking comfort in the warmth of it. It's never been the Force, it's always been the teachings of the Order. Ephraim just must've figured it out first and kept quiet, but they truly are of the same mold.
"One and the same," the Masters had said, "Either they will be incredibly powerful, or they will be our worst enemies."
Perhaps not the worst of enemies, but those who question the Order are quickly handled. First Lyon and now—
"A test," said Seth, his words echoing in Eirika's head. One of devout loyalty that she and her brother might very well fail.
A test indeed, she thinks grimly.
#
Lyon looks thin— the kind that comes with not taking care of one's self. Nothing but a shadow of their once beloved friend, his eyes practically glow with feral intent as he regards them haughtily.
This is what the Order means when they say that the Dark Side of the Force only eats away at you; Lyon looks maniacal as he stands there, pink-faced and high on adrenaline. So unlike his usual quiet and quaint self.
Eirika feels sick.
"Figures," says Lyon with a laugh. Sounds anything but amused. "Of course, they'd send the two of you— who else better?"
"Lyon," says Ephraim, holding out a complacent hand to try and calm him, "Listen to us—"
"No!" Lyon's voice is fevered and harsh, and both Eirika and Ephraim pause. "You should listen to me," he says, pulling at his hair. "Don't you see? This is what the Order wants."
"Lyon," tries Eirika, but she's silenced when Lyon throws a boulder her way, the stone smashing to the ground next to her. Close, but far enough to not do damage— he would never. She hopes.
"Always with the rules," murmurs Lyon, turning about on his feet. "What we can and cannot do, whom we can and cannot care for— don't you see? This is the entire point— they fear the Dark Side of the Force for what it can do!"
Eirika watches as Ephraim swallows thickly, waffling slightly despite his strong stance. "What do you mean?"
"It allows us to think for ourselves, dear Ephraim. The Order would be nothing if we weren't their mindless little machines at their beck and call—"
"Lyon," snaps Eirika in anger— though at what, she isn't sure. There's a kernel of truth to what Lyon says, she just hates what it's turned him into.
"Eirika." For a moment, his expression clears and his voice is hoarse. For a moment, he seems like the Lyon that they know and love, that they grew up side-by-side together within the halls of the Jedi Order.
But then it's lost as Lyon's face twists again, contorting into something more evil.
Eirika spares a second to look at Ephraim. His face isn't just drawn, he looks wholly distraught, fingers digging into his palms, his usual placid expression entirely absent. Not the face of a Jedi Knight, but the face of someone who's found family lost.
When Ephraim meets her gaze, she knows— Eirika knows— There is only one option.
She swallows around the lump in her throat. She listens to The Force to see if it has a better answer.
The Force is eerily quiet, a searing and silent thing.
#
When Lyon was young, he was a quiet and timid boy. Raised entirely in the order for as long as he could remember, he lived by the Jedi Code and ate up text after text. The Force calmed him and the ways of the Order was a balm across his anxiety-ridden soul.
And then the twins crashed into his life and everything tipped upside down.
A problem, whispered others, worried that the siblings would only bring ruin. They encompassed everything that a Jedi Knight is not— family, attachment, love. Ephraim held his sister tight to his side the morning they were introduced to the Order, his hardened gaze a challenge for anyone who came near.
Lyon wanted to be him. And then Lyon befriended them and wanted to be with them.
Ephraim and Eirika took their studies seriously, but they also knew how to have fun. They ran around and tussled, and for the first time in his life, Lyon felt like there was more to things than books and scrolls, and even The Force.
Treacherous thoughts for a Jedi Knight to be, but they only fueled Lyon's hunger to learn more and more. The Force, he had trust in. The Force was like a beloved friend, and Lyon knew that the answers to everything lay there.
The years stretch on and they grow older and a little wiser. The three of them, still thick as thieves— are closely watched by the Jedi Masters.
Lyon was the first to become a full-fledged Knight. Passed his trials with flying colors. Garnered high praise from the Masters themselves. He's a natural, they said, The Force comes so willingly to him. What a bright, young star.
It was harder for Eirika and Ephraim, who despite their devoutness still held the ire of the Order. They weren't easy to trust purely because of who they were— which wasn't their fault. Two halves of the same coin, bred from the very same soul.
It was always beautiful to Lyon, who watched them from afar. The Order couldn't see it. The Order didn't understand.
But The Force did.
Lyon heard its whispers and how it called to him. And his research— oh, his research— so many delightful things conveniently left from the main scrolls of their teachings. There were older ones, tucked away and hidden in the back shelves of the library. Musty and dusty things, mostly forgotten that spoke of ancient rites, and a different kind of power.
The Dark Side of The Force was a nightmarish tale meant to scare young Padawans away. But the more that Lyon read, the more tantalizing it was. Why would the Order be so quick to toss away something with such clear might?
It wasn't a bad thing, it was just different. And so, his motives changed. Lyon would research and learn, and he'd use it for good.
The twins— too kind, too loving, too trusting.
They couldn't protect themselves.
But Lyon could.
#
Lyon burns with rage because they won't listen.
"Ephraim!" he yells, lightning crackling at his fingertips. He doesn't want to hurt them, but electricity only stings. He knows that for a fact.
Ephraim looks at him like he's lost his damn mind, and Eirika watches with careful hesitation. Lyon is frustrated, so very vexed. They've always been fools of unwavering intent, but now they're just fools. They won't listen, they don't trust him.
They should, Ephraim and Eirika should. All he's ever done has been for them.
Grado is a barren wasteland of a planet, but it's where he's from. Lyon never knew his family, but he thought he might find the roots of something here. And he did— old records of who the Order ripped him away from. Lyon just barely missed the War that ravaged this place.
It's just his luck that the ruined palace of his once family is where they would make their last stand.
Ephraim stands stock still, his robes billowing around him. Eirika is beside him, hands clasped by her breast, looking woeful and defeated. Beautiful, the both of them. Lyon has always loved them more than anything else.
Three of a kind, the Masters would say.
"How poetic that they would send you after me." The moment stretches and none of them move.
"Lyon," says Ephraim, his voice tight, "We don't want to do this." A pause. "We don't have to do this. You can come home—"
"Don't you see?" Lyon laughs at the absurdity of the idea. "Ephraim, they think I am tainted! Influenced by the Dark Side. Even if I come with you willingly, they will never let me roam free. No, no, this is just what I knew would happen."
"Lyon," tries Eirika, but Lyon throws a bolt of Force lightning in her direction, just barely missing. Her mouth snaps shut and then she seethes with anger instead, all the hesitation that wracked her dissipating.
"Good." Lyon's voice is a murmur as he appraises her. "Good! See, you get it, you feel it! Anger, yes?"
Eirika looks shocked, her eyebrows drawn tight. "I—"
"We just want you to come home," cuts in Ephraim, his voice calm and unwavering. "Lyon, please. We miss you."
When Lyon looks at him, though, all he sees is that solid drive Ephraim is remembered for. And just like that, it's as though they are kids again, Ephraim beating off anyone who comes too close to his sister. Lyon always admired that, the way he'd look so fierce.
Even if the Masters were less than enthused.
"My research isn't complete yet—"
"Lyon."
"—But there is no mistaking the power the Dark Side of the Force carries. It's driven by passion, by feelings. That's what makes it so different and powerful. The Order— it's too volatile for them, they can't control free-thinkers, and so they quash it. We've forgotten— Eirika, Ephraim, we've forgotten."
"Lyon!" Eirika hisses it, a tone that Lyon's never heard from her. She breathes heavily as she watches him. "Please, don't make us do this," she pleads, a heart-wrenching thing that bubbles up from her gut.
Lyon feels his heart crack in two. "So it's like that then," he murmurs, lost once again to his dark musings. This side of The Force is different, it calls to him and whispers things into his ears.
It's too late, it tells him. Lyon listens to it like it's an old friend. Ephraim and Eirika are far too gone, far too good.
"You— Gods, you will never understand." Lyon presses his fingers to his brow and laughs. "Oh, the irony of it all."
"We—"
"This was all for you!" Lyon pulls at his hair as he looks at her. And he knows that he must look half-deranged, but he's never felt more alive, more brimming with power. "Everything that I've ever done, that I've ever researched— it was always to keep the two of you safe! The Order? They don't trust you and they never have. It won't matter if you succeed here, somewhere down the road they will throw you away too."
"For us?" Ephraim's voice cuts through the air, sharp like a knife. "Tell me, old friend—" He spits the word like it's poison in his mouth, "What about this is for us? We've been sent after you! We have to—" His voice cracks and he drags a hand through his hair.
"There are only two options, Lyon," he says quietly. Lyon doesn't think he's ever seen Ephraim look so defeated. But it isn't enough, it isn't—
They will only bring about your end, one way or another. Curling words, acidic little things; but Lyon listens and believes them.
"I only wanted to protect the two of you."
Ephraim's face breaks his heart. "Please—"
"But you are too naive to think that this won't be the end for me either way. For us." Force lightning crackles at his fingers again as Lyon feels the rage that fuels him.
Give in, says the Dark Side, Use that anger and put an end to this.
Lyon lets the bolt fly.
#
Eirika feels the lightning before it comes. The hair on the back of her neck stands straight and there's an urge that she feels in her gut, a deep sense of something. She drops to the ground and Ephraim throws himself to the right.
Lyon cackles maniacally, his voice echoing off the ruined palisades around them.
"Shit," murmurs Ephraim, swiping at a thin red line that runs along his cheek. "That stung."
"Ephraim," hisses Eirika.
He flashes her a glance. "Stay low and move quick. Together, we might have a chance."
Eirika goes left and stays low, and Ephraim does the opposite. That's always been their strength, their silent ability to read each other and just know. She's never known if it was The Force, or being twins— but it's been a boon more than not.
The Order is wrong, she thinks. They aren't a liability, they are good and just, they are Jedi Knights—
But they are also humans who love, and Eirika's heart twists at the sight of Lyon before her, angry and unhinged, encompassed by darkness. The Order has been wrong about so, so many things, but they are right about this.
The Dark Side of the Force is a friend of no one.
"There isn't anything like anger that fuels you," says Lyon, his tone brimming with annoyance. "It's amazing, the power that it brings."
He finds Ephraim first. Ephraim barely blocks, throwing a column at him. Lyon diverts it easily. And it's like that, back and forth, pushing and pulling. Neither of them fights with the intent to kill, though Lyon is far more likely to put an actual end to things.
Eirika makes her move, diving into the fray and Lyon turns to her. "Pitiful," he murmurs, "Two against one. Is that how a Jedi Knight fights? What would the Order think?"
He's lost his mind, thinks Eirika, ducking low and tucking away from a bolt of lightning.
"One on one, then," yells Ephraim.
Lyon pauses, his feet catching in the rubble. Eirika stops dead too, her stomach plunging with dread.
"Brother, are you mad?"
They both ignore her. Lyon's eyes burn brilliantly as a wide smile spreads across his face, and Ephraim goads him on. "You've always wanted that, right? Ever since we were children? Spar after spar, and you'd always lose. Well here's your chance."
"Don't—"
Ephraim pushes her aside with a wave of his hand, and Eirika tumbles back with the oppressive weight of The Force. And then he pulls his lightsaber from his belt and activates it, a blade of green extending.
Lyon laughs again. "Oh, this is delicious. What an utterly delightful turn. A duel then, dear Ephraim? Like the old days of the Order?"
"You and me, friend. Just like old times in the training pits."
Lyon responds in kind by drawing forth his lightsaber which bursts forth in a shower of purple.
And then the duel is on, Lyon moving first. He's quick and fluid in his movements, his lightsaber arcing through the air. It meets Ephraim's and sends sparks.
Her brother pushes him off and reels back. He turns on his heel and circles around. Eirika is surprised to find them evenly matched— Lyon wasn't ever bad, but he was never as good as Ephraim, only falling just short.
Lyon revels in the fact that they're neck and neck, blocking every hit that Ephraim dishes out with one of his own. The smell of ozone singes the air. The electric hums of their lightsabers permeate the quietness of the space.
One gains his footing and the other loses it, back and forth as they dance around the space. Ephraim slices at Lyon's side, only to hit his robes instead, and Lyon smacks his elbow into his face. A direct hit to his nose. Ephraim staggers, blood streaming down his chin.
"Tell me, Ephraim: have I grown stronger? The last time that we dueled, I was too weak to offer up a decent fight."
Ephraim spits out red onto the ground and drags his arm across his face, the sleeve of his robe coming away vermillion. But he says nothing, just watches Lyon through the anger that bubbles up within him.
Eirika can feel it, the way that it thrums through the air. The ire and exhaustion that wrack his body, and the physical toll this entire journey has taken on him. There'd been hope, but it was a fleeting and fickle thing because, from the moment they set out, Eirika and Ephraim knew only one truth:
Lyon will not be coming back with them.
"Think of it, Ephraim— all those lives that we've sacrificed for the greater good. Think of those unforgivable sins that we masquerade as For the sake of the Galaxy. I'm older and bitter, my friend. And so, the Dark Side of The Force; I've grown stronger because of it. Strong enough to defeat even you, Ephraim."
"No." Ephraim's hand tightens around the grip of his lightsaber. "You're still no match and you've lost your way."
"And you haven't?" Lyon tuts at him, shaking his head. "What would the Order say, seeing you so full of rage?"
"You were never one for combat, Lyon. It just isn't in you. You shouldn't have chosen this path."
Lyon falls oddly quiet. "This was the only path," he says, "The only way that I could protect the two of you. And look at what you've done; what you're making me do!" Lyon launches himself again, catching Ephraim off guard.
But he's quick to the chase, his lightsaber moving in a flash as he barely catches a swipe towards his neck. They duel on, trade blows and nasty little quips, fervent and angry words that are demeaning.
This isn't Lyon, thinks Eirika. And that's what hurts the most— the maddening reality that even the worst of their options isn't a good one. They won't be killing their friend, but rather a stranger instead. Whatever good that was left within Lyon has been twisted and corrupted by the Dark Side.
It's clear in how he moves. He strikes at her brother with the intent to utterly end him. Ephraim is holding his own, but he's dragging himself. He sags with exhaustion. His face is covered in blood.
"Lyon!" she screams, and the distraction is enough.
He pauses and turns to her. Just a moment's hesitation as he considers her fully. Ephraim moves, he pushes himself to the brink, and bites into Lyon's side with his lightsaber. Lyon cries out and falls to the ground, the air smelling like burning flesh. A hand reaches for his gut, but it was only meant to maim not kill.
Eirika goes to him, tripping slightly over the rocks and rubble.
Lyon wheezes and lets out a choked laugh. "Gods, I knew you wouldn't be able to do it. You are the most predictable man, Ephraim." He sighs, leaning back slightly as Ephraim stands above him, lightsaber still in hand.
"The Order meant to break us with this," says Ephraim. Sweat drips down his brow and his chest heaves.
Lyon's eyes slipped closed, and he winces, trying to catch his breath. "I wanted to go home," he says quietly.
Eirika feels hope bloom in her chest. "Oh, Lyon—"
She chokes. The air in her lungs just seems to fizzle away, and her body burns with the strain. When she looks at him again, Lyon's hand is out, clenched in a tight fist, his once-gentle eyes burning with rage.
Eirika scratches at her throat as her vision starts to blur.
And then there is a lightsaber through Lyon's chest. Ephraim stands behind him, looking as horrified as Eirika feels. The hold that The Force had on her disappears, leaving Eirika to tumble to the ground, gasping.
Then she scrambles across the earth to Lyon, who rasps with wet, red breaths. He's already bleeding from his mouth, eyes gray and hazy.
"Eirika?" he murmurs.
"Shh," she soothes, reaching to cradle his face between her hands. She slides her knees underneath him, pulling his head gently into her lap. "Yes, Lyon. It's me."
"You stopped me, didn't you?" His voice is quiet and feeble. He struggles to speak around the blood that he spits up. "Gods, please tell me that you stopped me."
When Eirika smiles, it's a pained thing. "Oh, Lyon," she says softly, a sob lodged in her throat. She strokes her shaking, clammy fingers through his hair.
"The Order," he whispers, tears slipping down his cheeks, "I never meant… I only wanted to protect you."
Ephraim's lightsaber clatters to the ground. He drops beside Eirika and curls his fingers into Lyon's robe. "We know," he says, shaking him, "We know that."
"The two of you— I've always…"
"Don't." Ephraim pushes Eirika's hands away and takes Lyon by the face, thumbs smoothing over his cheeks. "You— you can't."
Lyon laughs, a pitiful-sounding thing. And then he dies smiling, sighing softly, a soft tilt to his mouth. Serene. Better than his last moments. Eirika wants to think that he's died with some semblance of peace.
"No," says Ephraim, fingers moving to curl into Lyon's robes, "No, no, no."
"Brother—"
"He can't," sobs Ephraim, his cheeks wet. Tears mix with the blood that's smeared across his face, and he chokes trying to breathe through his broken nose. "We didn't— I didn't want to—"
Ephraim yells, an unintelligible scream that dissolves into a keening sob.
Eirika pulls him to her. She wraps her arms tightly around Ephraim's shoulders and he cries and cries against her shoulder. Jedi Knights don't do this, she thinks. But at that moment, Ephraim isn't a Jedi, he's her brother instead, and he loses himself in the soft crook of her neck.
They meant to break us, said Ephraim earlier, his voice cracked and hoarse.
Eirika doesn't want loyalty when it feels like this.
#
Lyon was burned on a funeral pyre that the Order would not have allowed. Eirika and Ephraim didn't care. They let The Force take him away and felt mildly better for it.
It feels odd, having left the Order. Eirika and Ephraim are no longer Jedi Knights, but rather rogues. They march to the beat of their own drum and help those in need wherever they can, however they can.
Eirika loves the freedom of attachment and happiness. When Ephraim laughs, it's with genuine quality. They part ways often and meet back up again— and for the first time in their lives, they are truly their own beings.
Ephraim stands at the edge of the plateau, cringing as he shields his eyes. "Sand," he says, "And more sand. Sand for miles. Sand for days—"
Eirika laughs and nudges his shoulder. "Jehanna has its charm." Ephraim gives her a dubious look. "Once you get used to it. Which I'm sure that you will."
"I doubt it," says Ephraim, frowning as he kicks his boot against a rock.
"Seth did." Ephraim frowns even more at the man's name, the ever devout Jedi Knight who'd sworn to protect his sister.
Later that night, though, Ephraim agrees— how the desert planet has its charm. They sit out on the open-air porch of her modest apartment, watching the twin suns set as they cast the horizon in purples and pinks.
Ephraim is quiet for a long time. And then he says, "Reminds me of him."
"Yes," says Eirika, her voice soft. The entire reason she chose to live in this dusty spot.
The Force tugs at her, a soft and billowing thing.
Eirika is certain that Lyon is right there beside them.