Out of the Abyss

by BritaniaVane

After years in exile, ex-Jedi General Eden Valen continues to clean up after Revan and Malak's mess of a war, only to find herself cursed with their unfinished business. Eden finds that Revan's mysterious plans go beyond the Republic, beyond the Outer Rim, and into the utter unknown. (novelization prior to, during TSL & beyond).

34. The Hunted

3951 BBY, Dantooine Grasslands, Rakatan Ruins
Erebus

They should have known better than to leave him alone.

Part of it was dumb luck, but the rest Erebus chalked up to his keen intellect, knowing that there was a shift change to occur exactly one minute after the same brutes that carried him from Azkul's reclaimed chamber later ferried Mical away to be questioned as well.

There shouldn't have been any lapse in patrol. In fact, they'd planned it that way. Erebus had overheard as much. But just as the would-be Jedi was taken away to be tortured, he overheard Rahasia and another patrol called to man the front entrance - leaving him without a warden.

Without a moment's hesitation, knowing the second shift would arrive any moment now regardless of oversight, Erebus struck himself hard in the ribs and let the pain wash over him. Despite the sharp ache that stung his lungs with that involuntary intake of breath on impact, the rest of him flooded with a white-hot energy he would not quite describe as fury though the adrenaline that coursed through him was not wholly different from it. He dove close to the depths, the Force feeling denser but stronger here, knowing he would only have a small window with which to return to the surface - lest he descend further than he was ready to.

Darth Sion does it all the time, he reassured himself silently. Plus, the boy's a medic, right? Mical'll mend my ribs sans Force when he returns, and all will be well.

Before the current patrol could return and before the next one would arrive, Erebus extended his hand and focused on the force cage's access panel until it registered a spectral, nonexistent hand and dissolved its barrier. Erebus partially disrobed and threw his cloak into the far corner of the cage, so should anyone return and glance at the thing it would still appear occupied. And within a moment he was gone again.

It took everything in him not to savor every second. To painstakingly commit every corner of this place to memory, to study its construction and unlock its secrets. But that wasn't why he was here. With one hand pressing on his swollen ribs, fractured for sure, he raised the other and time slowed. Dust motes froze in midair and suddenly it was harder to breathe - broken bones notwithstanding.

With the time he had, he mapped out the entire structure - smaller than he anticipated, but filled to the brim with rebels and Golden Company lackeys alike, each one giving off an air of annoyance and alarm - something else for Erebus to feed off of. None of them saw him, none of them noticed. To them, he was but a shadow, a trick of the light. The moment they thought they saw something he was gone again, and within another moment they'd already forgotten they had even seen a thing.

He mentally disabled the crystalline black noise pylons as he came across them, wishing desperately to study each of them and to pilfer at least one but thinking the better of it before moving on. Maybe later.

Azkul remained in the main room, where Mical was held now to be prepared for some ritual Erebus wanted to know the machinations of but he hadn't the time (no, the energy) to investigate further. Not if he wanted to plot his daring escape and find Master Vrook.

The man couldn't have been far off. Erebus sensed him earlier, or at least some other Force sensitive in their midst. But it only took another sweep of the structure to discover that the man was not held anywhere within the ruins' walls, but somewhere just beyond it.

When Erebus stepped outside, it was nighttime. He knew it had been at least a day and a half since they'd been spirited from the Sandral Estate, but seeing the moon hanging low on the horizon gave the illusion that time had stilled since the very moment he, Mical, and Mission had stepped foot into that cursed house only to be brought here.

Kath hounds, a voice hissed from his left.

Erebus froze, half-expecting someone to appear animated at his side but somehow surprised to find a slowed figure poised beside him instead. The words he'd processed as spoken were instead thoughts, running on a loop as the preserved scene before him still registered in real-time even as he observed the sequence on pause. Rahasia had her rifle poised, aimed at a spot deep in the encroaching underbrush. He followed her sights, taking steep strides towards the wall of tall grass until he caught up with the beast on the other end of her eventual blasterfire. Bullseye.

Yellow eyes watched from between the browning stalks, unaware that Erebus looked on like a wandering ghost, spying the kath hound in their midst. And beyond it there were many more. Stilled by his spell, the kath hound pack remained motionless, but even in the brief glance of time he had a slice of, Erebus could tell they were spurred on by more than typical territorial instinct. A hive mind, almost. Something stronger than any natural inclination.

This is the work of the Force, he thought. He felt it. Outside of his power's jurisdiction, he sensed another, butting up against his incantation of Force Slow still in place. Could they sense him too? Erebus wanted to comb through the grasslands beyond and find the beasts' master but knew that doing so would certainly tax him. He would have no way of recovering unless he dove deeper, the Dark Side consuming him more than he'd let it in the past ten years. Unlike Sion, and unlike his Master Nihilus, Erebus chose to conserve his energy. Should his circumstances require that he sacrifice more in the future, so be it. But his survival instinct worked opposite to theirs. There would be no dying today and no dancing close to death either. For now, he would have to remain happy with the fact that another Force user remained in his midst, undiscovered. If they knew he existed, he needed not to care.

With a forceful exhale and a sharp turn of his heel, Erebus retreated to the mouth of the Rakatan ruin again, trying to get a reading on where Master Vrook was being held once and for all.

Where are you, you grumpy bastard? He thought, trying not to think of who else might be watching, and who might be casting an animal bond through the Force at his back. From what he could tell, they did not sense him, whoever they were. And that would have to be his consolation for now.

His thought was not met with one similar – the other Force user either indeed blind to his presence or adept enough to remain quiet, leaving the fabric unrippled – and instead he heard birdsong.

Where we're from, the birds sing a pretty song, his grandmother used to say. There's always music in the air.

It was how she would greet them come morning in their native language, hyping him and Eden up for visiting the schoolhouse, before they were taken away from Serroco and thrust into the Jedi Order as if it was all they'd ever known.

But neither Dantooine nor Serroco had birds that sung at night. Erebus cocked his head, sure of the sound and its presence overwhelming his senses, and followed it. He walked alongside the outer Rakatan ruins until the carved facade melded into the rockface of the hill it was cut into, the song stronger here than at the edge of the meadow.

Behind him, the scene of approaching kath hounds encroaching on the ruin unfolded in slow-motion. Beyond that, Mical was being prepared to be tortured at Azkul's hand, the first to be tested using the mad Mandalorian doctor's abandoned equipment. Erebus would be next. He could stop the ritual. Disrupt everything… but he didn't have the energy to save Mical, at least not yet. Not if he wanted to find Vrook and finally get some answers. Answers that were, at present, being drowned out by nocturnal fowl.

His hands traced the rock wall as he walked its length, finally sensing a crag in the cliff-face. He paused. Peering around the edge of the crag his eyes fell on a silky darkness that slipped between two protruding ridges. If not for the moon hanging overhead, he might have mistaken it for a shadow and moved on, but the gloom remained steady. Without a second thought he slipped inside.

Erebus braced himself for what he might find, not expecting the inlet to keep going after two paces, four, and then six. It was eight paces before he saw light again. Wait, light?

On his ninth step, he stood bathed in twinkling illumination. His left hand shot up reflexively, shielding his eyes from the glow before he realized it was no ordinary light, but-

"Kyber crystal."

It was no secret there was a kyber cave here on Dantooine. He had chosen his first crystal here, in fact. When he was eight. Eden's chosen crystal had been blue, not too far off from Kun's saber to Erebus' dismay. Not wanting to choose the same color as his sister, as if such a thing mattered, he'd instead gravitated towards a stone that resembled a dying sun low on the horizon. A molten orange that mirrored his veiled displeasure at both Eden choosing a blue crystal before he did as well as her burgeoning mentorship with the quartermaster, Kavar.

But to know the cave extended this far? The ruins were a good twenty kilometers from the entrance he knew as a child. He spun around, eyes dazzled by the map of glittering gems above and around him, almost berating his inner surprise at how cave systems worked, when he noticed a path cut through the cavern.

"And what have we here?"

The place felt untouched, almost new. The birdsong from earlier grew tenfold as he walked on. He wanted to stop and question the source, knowing that no such crystal had resonated with him quite as much as this when he was here over twenty years ago, when the path led him through a dark passage that ultimately opened up to a grotto - empty save for a lone force cage set up in the very center of the space.

A waterfall trickled at the far end of the cave, masking the birdsong as well as the energy that emanated from the cage. But it didn't take more than a glance to figure out who was inside it.

Master Vrook looked hardly a day older than Erebus remembered him. His mouse-brown hair perpetually half-grey still wreathed his wrinkled head like a poorly placed laurel, his dark blue eyes just as discerning as they ever were as they looked Erebus up and down with his usual judgmental air.

"You look terrible," Vrook said.

Erebus could only laugh.

"Well, you're not wrong there."

Erebus walked the length of the cavern to the cage set-up, surprised to see such a new model in his midst. Another Golden Company find? The forcefield was hardly noticeable, its electric ripple only visible when Erebus was standing toe-to-toe with it, uncomfortably aware of how discerningly Vrook examined him at this distance.

"What do you want exactly?" Vrook sighed, "I take it this won't last much longer."

By this Erebus figured Vrook meant his use of Force Slow, the air around them stilling but somehow unable to penetrate Vrook who was also speaking in real-time.

"It won't, no," Erebus betrayed, the spirit of a laugh still on his throat. His ribs ached. "And I suspect you know I come with questions."

"Doesn't everyone?" Vrook shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked Erebus in the eye and remained there - unblinking.

"So, wait," Erebus posited, suddenly both offended and confused. "You're standing there, imprisoned, and somehow positing leverage over me with, what exactly?"

Vrook said nothing, his pointed stare growing stonier by the second.

"You're running out of time, and energy," Vrook almost smiled after watching Erebus writhe in the silence that followed his question. "Make it quick."

Erebus balked. He wanted to ask how Vrook had the gall, let alone the foresight, to ask such a thing. It was as if he'd not only already known they would meet again, not counting the state of Erebus' appearance, but that Erebus would ask something of him. And now all Vrook wanted to do was get it over with.

As pressed as he was for time, Erebus did not wish to give Vrook the satisfaction. So he pressed his ribs harder, tasting the blood again on his tongue, before he smiled.

"This will take however long it needs to."

Erebus' smile widened as he lifted a hand towards the force cage controls and disabled them. As soon as the barrier dissolved, Vrook's gaze broke - but only for a moment - before resuming his usual look of smug indignation.

"I could just leave," Vrook said but Erebus took a step forward, smiling wider as he saw Vrook take a step back in response.

"But you won't."

Erebus felt the glint in his eye as he doubled down on Vrook, the man almost shrinking before him before he resumed his stance from a moment earlier. As if nothing had happened.

"My demands remain unchanged," Vrook muttered, more annoyed than anything. "Ask your questions and let us be done with this."

Erebus opened his mouth, a question ready on his tongue - but nothing exited. He remained silent and stupid and Vrook just looked on, disappointed yet seeming superior as always.

"Mountains of Jedi artifacts were moved off-world just prior to Darth Malak's attack, while you were sitting council here. Why is that?"

It wasn't the first question Erebus planned on asking but the query took flight regardless. He wasn't disappointed, he wanted to know. But as eager as he was to learn about the log on Kun's saber, there were so many other mysteries in need of solving.

Vrook's assuredness dissipated for a moment, turning quickly to panic before transforming back into calm surety.

"Nothing to do with me, but it is curious. I'll admit that much."

Despite the display, Erebus felt Vrook to be truthful. He bit back his disappointment and pressed on.

"You suspect foul play?"

"I did, and I still do," Vrook said.

"But you never looked into it?"

"I asked Dorak to, as his station required of him. Master Zhar and I suspected that Dorak had done so initially, in case of an attack. He never trusted our plan about Revan's conversion so I had a feeling he might have set up some fail safes in case anything went sideways. But he denied involvement and looked into the matter."

Revan's conversion. If it weren't for the searing pain that pierced his lungs with every breath, Erebus would have laughed again. Vrook said it so casually, as if he were describing something so everyday and mundane, like the leasing of a new landspeeder.

"And I suspect he reached out to Master Atris as well?"

Master Atris. Master. It felt strange to say it again, and to Vrook no less. Even after all these years the woman was still teaching him something, even when she was dead and hardly involved. Or was she? Question everything, she'd often say, even if Atris was picky as to which things she chose to question and which things she took as gospel.

"He did, and whatever answer he received seemed to soothe his worries. So, we left it at that. There wasn't much time to investigate further. I meant to ask Atris myself the next we spoke, but that didn't pan out either."

The Conclave at Katarr. Erebus felt the memory in the air between him and Vrook, the man's thoughts porous for a moment's breadth, his vulnerability flickering before turning back to silent stone - Vandar, Dorak, Zhar… they'd all died there. The entire Dantooine Enclave. Teachers that took a young Erebus, as Aiden, under their wing with the intention of teaching him, keeping him safe. Yet here Erebus stood before the last remaining one of them, and the notorious old curmudgeon had the nerve to answer his questions without rebuke. Maybe Vrook was just curious, too, as Erebus always had been. It was the one positive thing he remembered the man saying about him as a child, and the sole reason that Aiden always defended the old man.

"But why not take everything?" Erebus asked. "A good deal of items remain, which is why you're in this predicament now."

"Why indeed," Vrook said. "I gave what I could to the Khoonda Initiative. And seeing as I'm still in this cave, I take that to mean they are keeping that cache safe. As promised."

"An… astute observation," Erebus said, "But why keep anything in the archive at all? In all their greed and glory, the Golden Company has gone and caused a cave-in at the Academy. Whatever remains could likely be destroyed."

"There are back-ups, somewhere," Vrook reconciled, now looking anywhere but at Erebus. "And all that matters is what remains with Khoonda now."

"So, you never altered the record?"

"Altered the – what?" now Vrook betrayed a natural reaction, surprise coloring his face as he glanced at Erebus again, aghast.

"Did you ever check the records, who authorized the shipment of items off Dantooine?"

Vrook shrugged, looking off into the distance again, genuine dismay overcoming his features as he thought about it.

"I assume Dorak did, if anything." Vrook shifted his weight from foot-to-foot before looking Erebus in the eye again. "To be honest, it never crossed my mind."

Erebus wasn't sure if Vrook had ever spoken to him like this - man to man. One adult to another, no masks, no pretense. The last time they spoke, Erebus had been all of fourteen. Despite the man's indignation, Erebus sensed the earnesty in each of the Vrook's responses, even though Erebus deserved none of it.

"What did the logs say?" Vrook asked, his voice softer than Erebus ever remembered it, though just as deep.

"It said I authorized the transaction."

"You – ?"

Vrook paused and then laughed - a hollow laugh that betrayed no mirth - pacing about in a circle before he faced Erebus again.

"You were already gone by then, weren't you?"

Erebus looked at Vrook, his blue eyes glinting in the kyber-light. He nodded.

"Then it is a mystery indeed," Vrook said. "I would suspect it was one of your old Master's machinations, though we can't ask her now, can we?"

No, no we cannot.

Erebus stared at Vrook pointedly, perturbed by the smile still lingering on the man's face. Does he know? Atris may have been dead, but Erebus' new Master was alive and well because of it.

"I have other questions," Erebus posed, waiting for Vrook's expression to wane. The man nodded.

"You're getting weaker," he said, "Ask carefully."

Erebus pressed his ribs in further, his eyes searing with a heat so scalding that he felt almost cold. Vrook winced, witnessing the likely shade-change of Erebus' eyes as he watched on, but only let his surprise betray him for a moment before resuming his usual smug air as he held Erebus' gaze.

"I'm sure you've already worked out how the Golden Company has kept you here," Erebus said. "But the items in question should not be new to you."

Vrook considered Erebus with a hard stare, eventually nodding and taking a step further as his stance became slightly more relaxed, increasingly more confident standing in Erebus' presence despite the looming threat in the air between them.

"I have, and while the objects are indeed familiar, I find their capabilities quite… unusual." Vrook did not betray a hint of concern despite his current situation, looking about as if this were a minor inconvenience. "It had to do with her, though," Vrook admitted. "With Revan."

"Any thoughts on that?" Erebus pressed.

"It factored into her admittance here, if that's what you mean," Vrook said. "I voted against it from the start. But Master Arren insisted."

"Aren?"

Aren Valen had been the name of his father, before he disappeared when Erebus was but a child. To hear the name uttered by a protocol droid on Nespis was one thing, but to hear Master Vrook say it with such confidence was another.

"Master Arren Kae, the woman that found Revan as a child. Her first teacher."

Arren not Aren. Arren Kae. A woman. Someone different. Erebus tried to reconcile the knowledge in his mind, baffled that he had not known the name of one of Revan's teachers, let alone never registered the name of someone who shared such a similar one to his father. Judging by Vrook's enunciation, there was more emphasis on the first syllable than the second, but it did nothing to soothe Erebus' inner judge.

"I won't go into the details of where and how she was found," Vrook began, his brows furrowing again. "But I had a feeling this would come back to haunt us."

"The Jedi, you mean?"

Vrook nodded, his eyes glancing up and down the length of Erebus, as if only just now taking in the rest of his dark garb and what that meant about his current affiliation even if he'd implied knowing as much earlier.

"Indeed," Vrook sighed. "I cannot say I am surprised, but I am alarmed how things have turned out regardless. It is only a matter of time until everything we've worked toward comes crumbling down."

"Not if you come with me," Erebus said, sensing his powers fading but strong enough to last a few more crucial minutes. "I don't care what happens to the Jedi, but I'd rather die than see Force-related objects in the hands of the highest bidder, knowing nothing of their true value."

Vrook only laughed. A hearty, riotous laugh that echoed around them, setting the hair on the back of Erebus' neck on edge.

"With you?" Vrook said. It was only then that Erebus realized that Vrook looked nearly untouched, his skin wrinkled but bruiseless, unbeaten. But the screaming… if Azkul had tried to break Vrook, he had not been very successful. Either Vrook was a better actor than Erebus gave him credit for, or his power was truly beyond that of his recognition. Or both.

"You have it now, don't know?" Vrook asked, a glint in his eye. "Kun's saber."

How did he-?

"I do not-"

"But you know where it is."

Erebus only stared back at Vrook, wondering what the man was playing at. Why tell Erebus anything at all? And so far, Vrook had not revealed anything other than what Vash had already revealed to him back in the ruins of the archives.

"She's here," Vrook continued, his voice lower, his face almost forlorn. "Lonna?"

Erebus nodded. He knows.

"Well, at least she is alive."

Lonna. He called her Lonna. Not Master Vash.

Erebus rounded on Vrook now, circling with even more questions as the man stood unmoving in the center of the deactivated force cage.

You can read minds, old man? He thought, doing his damnedest to keep his words hidden. So can I.

"So you know nothing of who moved the Jedi artifacts?" Erebus asked, still trying to piece it all together. "Did you know the record of Kun's saber had also been altered?"

Vrook paused, his brow furrowing in what appeared to be genuine curiosity, the first expression other than disdain that the Jedi let cross his face without filtering it first. "What do you mean?"

"The logs say I altered that entry as well, deleting the connection to whatever it was they found along with Revan."

But she's dead, were the only words Erebus gleaned from the unspoken air between him and Vrook, but the man's mind became a vault a moment later having sensed Erebus' probe. Vrook smiled a bitter, knowing smile, and took a step forward until he stood alarmingly close to Erebus, their faces almost touching. The man was only an inch taller, at most, but at this distance he might as well have been ten feet tall.

"If you know so much about resurrecting the dead, then maybe organize a seance," Vrook hissed, "Bring Master Atris back and ask her. Ask her why."

Erebus froze, his limbs unmoving as if succumbing to his own spell. The Force enveloped him - both his Force Slow and Vrook's mind encroaching on his, silencing Erebus' thoughts just as Vrook shielded his own. Vrook did not break eye contact as he then stepped back and with a wave of his hand re-enabled his force cage. The barrier sizzled and cracked with electricity between them as time resumed, a scurry of sound and air hitting Erebus all at once and almost sending him back. He stumbled slightly, catching himself and tasting even more blood on his tongue. Its metallic tang ricocheted across his teeth as he regained his footing and watched as Vrook descended to the floor to meditate, as if Erebus was not there.

"You may see yourself out, Aiden Valen," Vrook said, eyes closed. "I can manage without your help, though you would do well to find that kyber crystal before it kills you."

Kyber.

It took a moment to register but what had at first sounded like birdsong now screeched at an unholy volume in Erebus' mind. He scrunched up his eyes, swallowing as he stomached the roiling nausea that overcame him as his body surrendered to the pain radiating from his ribcage and the music in concert. Vrook smiled slightly, eyes still closed, before his expression became that of utmost neutrality. Erebus was not sure he'd ever felt so tranquil, and both envied and reviled Vrook for being able to relax at a time like this. Or at all. Ever.

Guess this conversation's over.

Erebus turned, the light of the cave now blinding. He glanced back at Vrook one last time, not expecting the man to look but hoping he would - two decade's worth of thoughts and feelings flowing between them at Erebus' insistence. But if Master Vrook understood any of it, he did not reveal as much, remaining as still as a statue.

With another sigh, his lungs stinging with every breath, Erebus left the grotto and walked deeper into the cave.

His mind splintered just as his body felt cleaved in two, as if his head and his torso were acting in unison - his brain both comprehending pain and communicating it at once - until he stumbled towards the exit again.

"Bloody hell," he groaned, nearly losing his balance when he saw the sky again. No, I need to find it, he thought. And I need it to shut the hell up.

He gripped the rock face with a desperation he had not felt in… well, probably not as long as he'd like to admit. But despite how recent his last visit to rock bottom was, he had a clawing feeling it was more recently than right fucking now and the worst part of it all was that he was concerned, of all things. Concerned what Vash would say about this, but also about him.

Erebus wanted to keep going, sensing the encroaching kath hounds from earlier, as well as the inevitable change of the guard. If he could get up off his sorry ass within the next five seconds he might have a chance of making it back to his force cage with a moment to spare, but if he dallied…

He sighed, his chest aching, his head light. Erebus felt his skin pale, an unmistakable faintness overcoming him just as his hand reached for the rock wall again only for this time to settle on a spot that made the screaming stop. He paused. Beneath his clutching hand was a crystal, half-buried in the rock but most certainly there. As if possessed by a ravenous hunger for mineral, Erebus raked at the rock, his nails growing bloody by the time the crystal came free and landed softly in his now-bloodied again palm.

It was blue, like Kun's lightsaber. But it wasn't the first thing that crossed Erebus' mind. Cerulean, almost deep cobalt, he thought. Like his eyes.

His being Mical's, blinking up at him through flaxen lashes in his memory as Erebus' mind registered the color. The connection to Exar Kun was secondary to the thought of how Mical's eyes might flash wide at Erebus' sorry state and the request he would impel upon him, asking the would-be Jedi to use his meager powers to mend his broken ribs or at least fashion something from nothing to set them with.

That is if Azkul hasn't broken him already.

Erebus sighed, soaking in the cool of the night as he adjusted the weight of the crystal in his palm. It was one thing for his mind to be quieted, but it was another to know that the thing had called out to him at all. No, I already have a crystal.

His saber, likely nearby though confiscated by the Golden Company, was one Erebus still treasured. But if it might shut the damn thing up, maybe he would gift the crystal to Mical. Barter it for healing. Leverage his life for a potential future as a Jedi somewhere else. Because as much as he wanted to train the man, out of curiosity and a reason to feel useful than anything, he knew Mical would deny him at every opportunity.

"A better Jedi than I ever was," he said, realizing now that he sounded - no, that he felt… sorry. He shouldn't have cared that another Jedi lived, let alone was made or trained to be one. But the idea of someone like Mical, someone with Erebus' own sensibility but better? It was the only thing that made Erebus hope for a future of the Jedi. If there ever was to be any.

He could unpack all of this now, but instead he pocketed the crystal and crept along the ruins until he found the entrance again, slinking back inside like a cheating lover hoping not to be caught come morning, listening as the kath hounds howled amid the blasterfire that finally let loose and the changing of the guard finally saw that his chamber was secure again.

Only when the new wardens arrived, Erebus was already inside his force cage, as if he'd always been there, almost fast asleep as he laid against the far wall in a heap with a kyber crystal still humming in the palm of his hand.

---

3951 BBY, Dantooine Grasslands, Khoonda Headquarters, former Matale Estate
Mission

"Thank you for sending Jarael and Gryph my way, Zayne," Bastila confided via comm, her voice hushed even though they were using a secure line. "It is only a matter of time until the Golden Company finds their way here, so I feel much better knowing there will no longer be anything worth pilfering."

"Sure thing," Zayne nodded, a faint smile crossing his face - a nice change from the scowl he'd taken to wearing lately instead. "It's a wonder the mercs haven't already hit up that city, to be honest."

Mission, Zayne and Dillan were all huddled in the dark of the Matale vault, surrounded by what Khoonda had secured at the behest of Master Vrook. Per Carth's suggestion, they'd opened a channel to Bastila to try and get the Jedi artifacts and items sorted out lest the Golden Company get a hold of them first.

"Well, you're not wrong."

Bastila, as usual, was shrouded in shadow. Careful not to give any clues as to her current location, she tended to call from dark or otherwise indiscriminate rooms. The room she was currently calling from happened to be both.

"Oh?"

It was almost strange hearing small talk, even if the subject was rather serious. Mission still couldn't believe it. Something like the death of the Jedi and the seizing of any known artifacts should have made headline news across the quadrant, let alone the galaxy at large. But there was hardly a blip about it on any channels. If anything, there was more talk about the bounty on Jedi, but it was only ever spoken about like some sports match or another trivial event that would make people gossip but never about anything other than the intrigue of it all.

"A… friend of mine heard a rumor. People talking about things for sale on the black market, looking for potential sellers."

Mission perked up at this, wondering who Bastila's friend was - was it someone Mission knew? - but knew better than to ask. It was safer not to know. Just as it was safer not to know where Bastila was, it was safer not to know who she was in contact with. It was better none of them know which of the other Jedi remained, let alone where, which is why Mission still felt particularly stupid about mentioning Lonna Vash earlier that morning. The Jedi assured her that it was alright, but the feeling Mission had somehow made both women more vulnerable did not sit well with her.

"They would have found us eventually," Bastila continued. Us echoed in Mission's mind, again making her wonder who else had remained behind at the secret Coruscant site.

"But the Academy itself is empty, right?" Zayne asked, a hint of sadness in his voice.

"It is, yes. I keep an eye on it when I can, but I've not dared venture inside in quite some time," Bastila sighed. "I moved base long ago, and while I would like to think our little stowaway is hard to find, I can't take any chances."

Mission and Zaalbar had only ever spoken to Bastila about shipments, no one else. She must have let on that she wasn't working entirely alone before, right? Especially when the place was still up and running… Mission knew it didn't matter now but part of her worried that there were other things she'd missed, things that would be worth remembering, worth knowing.

"Hey, do you mind taking a look at what I just sent you?" Dillan asked out of the din. "That should be a complete list of everything we have. Encrypted, of course. And in code, just as you asked."

The usual undercurrent of annoyance cut through each of Dillan's words but the expression on her dimly lit face was one of pride.

"That was certainly quick," Bastila said, surprised, the hint of a smile on her pale face. "I will do just that."

Bastila nodded once she confirmed receipt of said files and read through the document, silent as she took in its contents while deciphering it all the while. As she read on, Dillan's attention returned to her datapad and Mission looked at Zayne awkwardly, unsure of how to fill the silence.

Just as Mission was about to open her dumb mouth and say something about the weather - in a room where there were no windows, no less - someone knocked at the vault's door.

"May I come in?" Vash asked from the other side. Both Mission and Zayne moved to open the large door, heaving it across the dark threshold to let the Jedi pass. Vash nodded at them each in thanks, though her face was nothing less than harrowed. Instantly taking in the scene, her eyes falling on Bastila, Vash let her thoughts be known.

"I pardon the intrusion, Bastila, but I would like your opinion on what we found at the Sandral Estate."

"Master Vash, it is good to see you alive and well," Bastila greeted with a small smile, though it was clear her eyes were still locked on the encrypted file Dillan had just sent over, her focus now wavering between the two. Though knowing Bastila, Mission could tell the woman was likely balancing her attention from one to the other with minimal mental resistance, as she was unnaturally known to do. "Or more rather, alive. I can't imagine any of us are well given everything that's happened, of course. "

"I won't take up much more of your time, though I am glad to see another one of us has survived."

A look fluttered over Bastila's face. Emotion, concern, confusion - Mission was not sure. But just as the expression graced her features it was gone again and replaced with her usual look of perpetual seriousness.

"Of course," Bastila said, beckoning Vash to approach with her questions.

Just as Vash moved towards the desk the comm was placed on, Bastila's holo-head in miniature floating serenely above its surface, another presence at the vault door grabbed Mission's attention.

"Asra, hey," Zayne greeted, almost surprised. "Any news?"

The Togruta side-stepped into the room, entering the vault from the door's slightly-ajar invitation to join them. Though judging by the look on her face it wasn't meant to be a long visit.

"I think we've found them," she said, her voice a hushed whisper. Vash and Bastila spoke on the other end of the room, and while Mission longed to hear of what they spoke of, she was drawn to the news unfolding at her side.

"You know where they took Mical?" Mission asked, looking at Zayne before she added. "And Erebus?"

Asra nodded.

"It was by complete accident, which tells me they're being sloppy," Asra said.

"The Golden Company?" Zayne confirmed, brow furrowing.

"Yes, and no," Asra revealed, her voice becoming even more of a whisper as she went on. As if on cue, both Mission and Zayne inched closer. "We were scouting the scavenger encampment when Darek and I spotted a pack of kath hounds acting… odd. Mical'd mentioned they hunt at night, but not like this. As to be expected, there were a couple circling the camp in search of food. There were a few scavengers out there roasting meat so that made sense but… out of nowhere, as if in a trance, the hounds suddenly lost interest and stalked off. We followed them a ways just to see where they were headed but they went off, and I mean way off. A few miles at least. More hounds joined them along the way, too, as if hearing this same song. Darek and I followed until they led us to, I dunno, some sorta ruin - which must be the one you mentioned earlier, Mission. But anyway, that's where all the kath hounds stopped, stock still, and waited. And then, again, as if under some spell, they all started growling. And that's when a few gunmen came out of the ruin, Rahasia being one of 'em. She was just as you described, Mission."

"Rahasia was there?" Mission asked, still aghast, both at the story as well as her own disbelief.

Asra looked her in the eye and nodded.

"She was one of at least ten rebels guarding the place, but couldn't get a read on how many there were inside," Asra continued. "But from the looks of it there were both locals and mercs hanging about, so my guess is they've created some sort of alliance, right? It was a strange standoff, though. What would possess those hounds to walk miles just to growl?"

"Maybe it was an old kath hound den?" Zayne asked. "Maybe they were just being territorial."

"It's possible. When we found Casus all those years ago, he'd been picked off by hounds," Mission said, "But I was right, they are at the old Rakatan ruins!"

Mission hadn't known where the ruins had been, her memory being shit and all. Though she chalked it up to being all of fourteen the last time she was here and not thinking they'd ever need to revisit that dusty old place again.

"Wait, so Mission, you're saying that the ruins you found and the one Asra stumbled on are one in the same?" Zayne asked, scrunching his face up as he tried to get the facts straight.

"I think so," Mission affirmed, and after rattling off a list of random details to Asra confirmed it to be so. "So the datapads we found must have been the key, Rahasia used her brother's old field notes to find them a hideout."

"But what about the Sandral Estate?" Zayne asked again, "Has anyone returned?"

"Not sure," Asra shook her head, the beads draped from her red-orange montrals twinkling ever so slightly. "At least Rahasia hasn't been back in a spell, not since we were there."

Asra looked over her shoulder at Vash, her gaze darkening as she took a tentative step closer to Mission and Zayne, silently asking that they bring the circle of their conversation in closer.

"Any word on what we found back there?" she asked. Asra's voice was barely a whisper.

"Glitch has been hard at work securing the thing, but Vash has been studying it all day," Zayne whispered, an unusual solemnity falling over him.

"That girl knows her stuff," Asra attested with a hearty exhale. "I'm still a bit surprised Orex let her stick around."

"What is his story, anyway?" Mission asked. "He's barely spoken a word to me. I gather Glitch rarely speaks, but even she has said more to me than he has."

Asra shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest as she glanced back at Vash again, still deep in conversation with Bastila at their backs.

"I was kept a bit out of the loop myself," Asra revealed after a moment, sucking on her teeth. "Apparently, he fought with General Valen during the war, on Dxun. Something he saw out there set him to looking into this sort of thing, I figure. When he hired me, he seemed more interested in item acquisition than anything, not unlike the Golden Company or any minor outfit on the Dune Sea. I didn't know it at the time, but I think those scores just paid the bills. Kept the outfit going. But once we found those black pyramids, and the funny crystals like the one we happened on at the Sandral house, his whole attitude changed. Like something finally clicked into place. Only he's shying away from it, almost, scared to dive deeper. I think he's been looking for something specific for a long time, looking to scratch a very particular itch and he's only just found the right spot to scrape."

"And he doesn't know how far this lead will take him, more like," Zayne added, biting his thumb. "Not unlike myself. I was sorta thrown into this, not exactly by choice, but I felt like there was no way I could say no."

"Say no, to finding old artifacts?" Mission asked. Zayne nodded, still chewing on the nail of his thumb as he glanced at her, looking almost young again when their eyes met.

"Who better than someone with no official ties to the Jedi to do their dirty work?" Zayne laughed darkly. "Though I don't really see it as doing them a favor so much as I'd like to think it's everyone else I'm helping out by doing this."

Mission didn't know what to say, and neither did Asra judging by her shifting eyes but sympathetic half-smile.

"You did the right thing," Mission said, placing a tentative hand on Zayne's upper arm. "You're doing the right thing. As an outsider to all this stuff, it's what keeps me and Big Z going, helping in any way we can."

Zayne nodded appreciatively, his hair falling into his eyes as he laid a thankful hand over Mission's. She looked away, unable to hold his gaze while they touched - the spell of her ancient crush still stronger than she'd like - but she did not move, relishing in the feel of his hand on hers.

"So, what's the plan?" Mission asked, finally breaking the silence and eventually slipping her hand away from Zayne's warm shoulder. "How do we spring Mical and Erebus out of this place?"

"Well, we have to be careful," Zayne said, "We need to stop the Golden Company but not at the loss of whatever it is they have stashed along with them, right?"

"Do we even know what the mercs got a hold of?" Mission asked before Asra chimed in again.

"Darek overheard the scavengers talking about it, apparently they were able to access some portions of the main archive, but not much else before the cave-in, so they don't have much… other than what they brought with them, from the looks of it. From what Darek heard, the mercs last tried to enter a sublevel of the academy that's caved-in but the hounds have been a bit of a problem."

"What is it with these kath hounds?" Mission asked. "I remember them being a nuisance the last time I was here, but not like this. Did they spread like the plague since Malak bombed the place?"

"It's possible," Zayne said, "But still strange."

"How are we supposed to ambush this ruin if we're outnumbered, outgunned, and there are kath hounds about?" Mission asked, not expecting an answer.

"I'm hoping Carth can pull through sooner rather than later," Zayne offered, sighing as he began to retreat towards the door. "I don't know how much else we can-"

Mission waited for Zayne to finish his sentence, as did Asra, the two of them hanging on his unspoken words as it took another second for them to register whatever it was that made Zayne pause.

And then the ground shook beneath them. Gently, at first, before the entire vault seemed to spin for a moment before stilling again.

"Was that-?" Asra asked, also failing to finish her thought.

"An… earthquake?" Mission posed, looking between the two of them. Both Asra and Zayne looked about, eyes cast at the ceiling as if it might betray any answers, before all three of them glanced at Vash and Dillan across the room who each looked at them in turn. They'd felt it too.

Dillan swallowed, the gulp visibly traveling the length of her throat from the other side of the vault even in the dim lighting before she uttered, "I think we're under attack."

---

3951 BBY, Dantooine Grasslands, Rakatan Ruins
Mical

If it weren't for the blood dripping into his squinting eyes, Mical would have loved to get a better look at this place. He was sure Erebus had, and a part of him was bitter that he would be denied the same for the mere difference being that Mical was to be detained upside down, of all things.

"Comfortable?" The man Erebus called Azkul asked. His smile appeared a frown to Mical, who was still spitting blood out from between his teeth.

"Oh, downright cozy," Mical said, trying to be coy but struggling despite his better efforts. With all the blood in his body rushing to his head it was hard to play it cool. But he tried nonetheless.

Azkul's grin widened, its mirrored frown deepening from Mical's perspective near the floor.

"This will be a long night, I assure you," Azkul continued, gathering unseen items from atop a nearby slab of rock. The table' surface was blocked from view, granting Mical only an image of its underside. The markings scoring it were similar to the ones on the floor of his cage, almost binary, like a computer. He squinted further still, peering through his blood-coated lashes to commit the pattern to memory before Azkul stepped away from the table with something sharp and shiny in his grasp.

"You can procure any confession you'd like with the right tools," Mical tried to scoff. "By the end of it, I'd say anything for all you know. What makes you think this will give you any more information than you already have?"

But Azkul ignored him. Instead, he whispered with an attendant nearby, another merc from the looks of him. He thumbed through a datapad, muttering what appeared to be instructions at Azkul's side. After a minute's worth of nodding, never taking his eyes off Mical, Azkul finally approached, the tool in his hand becoming very obvious the closer he neared - a massive hypodermic needle, its syringe housing an iridescent green liquid not unlike the color of Erebus' eyes when he pushed himself too hard.

"If I were a doctor, I'd say this will only hurt a little," Azkul joked, his gravelly voice barely a rumble as he knelt before Mical's head, his blonde hair splayed over the floor above him. "But I have no idea how this will feel. So… buckle up."

The man almost laughed, his breath like a half-hearted chuckle as he took hold of Mical's braced shoulder and wrenched the sleeve to reveal pale skin beneath. Azkul smiled again and impaled Mical's flesh. The needle was thick and Mical could sense every millimeter of the cold metal enter his epidermis with a shudder. But it was nothing compared to what came after. Once the needle was in place, Azkul pressed the plunger with practiced pause, counting under his breath as the fluid entered Mical's system with a sensation he had no words for.

His eyes rolled back, body convulsing as the solution took hold. At first there was only pain. And then…

"What do you feel?" Azkul asked.

Mical now realized that Azkul had stepped back. When did that happen? The man and his attendant stood a few feet away, watching him intently. And while Mical felt their eyes on him, he felt something else. Something all encompassing and warm and…

"What do you feel?" Azkul asked again, hissing this time.

"I feel-" Mical echoed, his voice sounding lightyears away as he spoke, the words almost alien to his own ears. Euphoric.

He felt every molecule around him. No - he knew them. Intimately. Each and every atom that surrounded him was part of a larger yet singular whole. His own thoughts and memories, Mical's corporeal body, as well as his captors' thoughts and their entire constitution - from what they were wearing to their very genetic makeup - all mingled as one. Time lost all meaning, this moment existing simultaneously with Revan and Malak's discovery of this place, their footsteps echoing in Mical's ears as they spoke to one another in hushed whispers, their words meaning nothing in the grand scheme of things as Mical's consciousness extended beyond the creation of this building to the formation of the very planet beneath them, and the universe beyond.

"I feel… fine," he lied.

He felt a smile behind his teeth but he bit it back. This feeling was for him alone. Is this what it's like? he thought. To feel the Force? Or was he just under the influence of… something?

Mical wanted to laugh, his body suddenly feeling light as Azkul took a step closer again, his expression reading more serious this time.

Azkul muttered again but Mical didn't hear a word of it. Instead, everything happened in a blur. It was almost like being intoxicated sans the nausea. It was as if he were a being that moved too quickly for mortals, slowed down by the passage of time whereas Mical existed somehow outside of it. The harmonious elation did not last long. The pain of his injuries crept back towards his consciousness with a grim reminder of their reality, but he still felt at peace with everything around him. Even his captors.

Time must have passed, because several more people milled about the room now, all examining datapads and comparing charts. Azkul remained planted in the center of the chamber, staring unblinkingly at Mical.

Mical stared back. Azkul's eyes were an unnaturally pale blue, almost silver but not quite, the color of his irises melting into the whites of his eyes. What do you know?

Without willing it, Mical could see it - everything at the forefront of Azkul's mind: this experiment and all it entailed, the running cost of the equipment here and how it was a detail he'd rather not dwell on, followed by the flash of a memory of questioning Vrook Lamar that quickly made way for a mounting frustration that soon eclipsed it, all alongside a running log of items the Company had recovered and the equally long log of items they'd yet to retrieve from the collapsed temple ruins. Not to mention the several emails he'd left unattended, all blinking red back in his personal datapad demanding his express attention. Mical wouldn't have expected that to be the thing he perked up at, but somehow he knew those emails were the key to who Azkul answered to. The person who put the hit out on Jedi, the one who wanted to distract the Exchange and the Golden Company both into hunting them while he did… what exactly?

"I believe we are ready for the extraction, sir," a voice said, the first set of words Mical had understood in what he was now assuming had been hours. In all that time, Mical had entered Azkul's mind and perused his thoughts like paper strewn atop an unattended desk, so wrapped up in the intricacies of this new interconnected world through the lens of the Force that Mical had quite obliviously ignored the plethora of tubes and wires now cascading from his exposed limbs, connecting him to the wealth of mobile computer consoles and bulky datapads now crowding the room. "Would you like to do the honors?"

Another merc approached Azkul's side, this one looking scrawnier than the others, slender. More a scientist than a hired gun. He wore the same clothes as the rest of them, though there was one thing that set him apart - a cybernetic monocle affixed to the temple of his left eye, an extension of his sight installed to enhance vision beyond that of a normal humanoid. Both rare and exceedingly illegal. Before Mical could get a better look at it, a series of bright orange text flitted across the monacle's crystalline screen moments prior to the entire contraption folding in on itself as it retracted into the man's face, masquerading as a piece of nondescript metal. As if it were a cosmetic piercing and nothing more.

"I would gladly," Azkul took a new needle from the man and smiled wider. "If this goes well, then our little Sith friend will be next. Who knows - maybe we'll truly see what the difference is after all."

"I'm no Jedi," Mical spat as the realization sunk in. Azkul continued to move towards him, flashing the needle before Mical's wavering eyes like a threat.

"Doesn't matter," Azkul grinned.

Doesn't it? Don't they have Vrook? Mical thought, but perhaps it truly was for naught. Perhaps they had tested Vrook, and that was the entire point of this experiment - a Jedi, a Sith, and something in-between walk into a cantina…

"Now this?" Azkul glanced at the empty syringe sidelong. "This I know is going to hurt."

No, Mical thought, the desperation clawing at him unexpectedly as the emotion took hold. Don't take this from me.

Mical had felt the Force his entire life, an ever-present sixth sense that hung back like an afterthought, occasionally opening him up to a larger world but only for brief moments that were gone just as quickly as they'd come. This was the longest he'd ever felt connected to it all, so in control. And yet also, not…

Not wanting to waste the opportunity while it was still in his grasp, Mical willed that time slow again and reached out…

For a moment, Mical could sense the grounds and the cave system beyond, sensing a pack of hounds approaching from the northwest, yet at the edge of it all sat Azkul's anxieties fueling these tests as well as whatever else his men were working on. In that moment, everything came to a swirling stop again and solidified, time crystallizing in on itself. Mical sensed the moving parts - Azkul here, now, recreating an experiment that he'd seen drawn up and documented but never seen in action until this moment, his expectations, his fears, and his subsequent elation all existing simultaneously, just as he was anxious about the attack he'd ordered as well as the lack of communication from the shifting of the guard that was supposed to happen moments ago. All the while, someone stalked the grounds now, undetected, eluding Mical's tenuous grasp on the Force even as he ached for the feeling to remain. As curious as he was about the grounds and the planned attack, Mical focused in on Azkul's mind, pushing, pushing, pushing, until he saw it - an open chamber alight with motherboards, a single illuminated individual standing in the center of it all, commanding the attention of thousands across the quadrant. It's him, Mical thought. This is who Azkul answers to.

He sensed a city down below, the mechanical atrium existing somewhere in a metropolis' orbit, hovering unseen in a sea of cargo freighters and endless travelers. It could have been anywhere - Nal Hutta, Coruscant, Corellia - but before Mical could truly sense the planet beneath for what it was, only gleaning a mauling hunger that echoed as loudly as it craved, hollow but ongoing in its want, an unholy sound filled his ears, his eyes almost rolling back into his skull at the tumult. No. Not yet.

"Shut that thing off, will you?" a merc groaned nearby. Azkul only laughed.

"That means you're next," another one of them japed, before yet another merc cut in.

"It's his sensory mod," they said. "These things make his head go haywire."

"Then why is he even here?"

"Well I-"

Mical drowned out the remainder of the argument as the modded merc sighed and gently kicked a squat crystalline pyramid set against the back wall.

So there it is - the black noise.

It vaguely resembled the sketches that were pinned up around Erebus' workspace on his ship, designs of varying cult objects drawn only from inference and hearsay. But there it was, in the flesh, its raw crystal a living, breathing thing Mical could now sense through the fabric of the Force - an immovable object that sought to silence his sixth sense now that it was so utterly and widely awake.

"Did you get that?" Azkul asked, a sickly smile still painting his face as he glanced at a nearby monitor beeping wildly. "Looks like our non-Jedi Jedi is trying to actively use the Force."

Use the Force, Mical wanted to laugh. Of course it would happen like this. Denied any formal training and sent off to war before puberty properly set in, not a lick of practical application under his belt, and here he was, forever the student, now actively only using the Force out of desperation.

And what did he do with it?

Exactly what Erebus did to me, he thought sourly, recounting the sickly feeling that overcame him in the Nespis temple when he heard Erebus' voice inside his head. But entering Azkul's mind was necessary, wasn't it? A means to an end? He had to believe that much, though Erebus likely thought the same.

"Can we get a repeat of that?" Azkul asked, moreso to his team than to Mical even though their eyes were still locked.

"Not unless you pump him with more serum," the modded merc replied. "If you were planning on testing the other one, then you'd best reserve it."

Azkul betrayed only a glimmer of disappointment before his face settled into a tired smirk.

"Well, it's now or never," Azkul muttered, nearing again with the needle in hand.

Mical could only furrow his brow, having had his blood drawn countless times and coming out of each routine procedure unscathed. But nothing equipped him for the feeling that would come next.

As soon as this needle pierced his skin, his body went rigid - going into rigor mortis before the rest of him registered death. Only death did not come. Instead his body went slack, his senses fading beyond even that which he knew before the mystery serum coursed his veins and opened him up to a world beyond his own. And when Azkul extracted the syringe this time instead of plunging it, Mical nearly felt his soul leave his body.

When the deed was done and Mical regained his senses - mortal and frail again now, but much worse for it - amid the aches and pains, all he could really sense was the blood in his mouth and its metallic aftertaste.

"This is… this is spectacular," the slender merc said through a smile. Mical could only see him because his head happened to be facing in his direction, not because he looked, still too weak to will his body to do much of anything beyond merely existing.

"What is it?" Azkul asked, now across the room. The syringe was no longer in his hand but presumably in whatever tumbler Mical heard rumbling now. The order of events was strange in his head - he was still partially experiencing everything, everywhere, all once, but also separately, eons apart and without context, as if his mind were still above mere mortal cognition as well as below it, like a lower life form - a bit of single-cellular bacteria briefly privy to the machinations of multicellular beings and all the more confused for it.

"This is even more than what we projected," the merc said, his monocle enacted again and glowing amber in the steady stream of data that flitted now before his open eyes. "This goes beyond Demagol's data, surpassing even what he extracted from Darth Malak."

Malak?

Mical truly wilted now, leaning into his pain and anguish as his muscles relaxed, now almost yearning for death.

"Excellent," Azkul purred, the grit of his voice even more gravely as it echoed through the space. "If we can synthesize even more of this stuff, then we'll really be in business. Is that something we can feasibly achieve?"

"Possibly," the merc added, "Granted the data on Malak is complete. I'll compare the data sets tonight, and perhaps by morning I'll be able to provide a more satisfying answer."

"That will do," Azkul said with a smile. Mical was no longer plugged into the Force as he had been, his mind and body so utterly hollow now in comparison, but he sensed the satisfaction in Azkul from merely observing his expression. "Any updates from the others?"

Mical went cold. The kath hounds. The interloper. The attack. Everything he'd gleaned from the Force came crashing down on him, the weight of each bit of knowledge hitting him in succession and leaving him breathless. How could he not have anticipated what all of this meant in the moment? Is this truly how Jedi perceive the world?

"Our warning was delivered, though we've yet to receive a formal response from Khoonda," a different, unseen merc answered, "There was a bit of a standoff at the ruin entrance with some kath hounds but everything's fine now."

"What sort of standoff?" Azkul was angry now, his perpetual smugness finally dissolving to make way for dissatisfaction of the same ilk the man felt when considering his many unread emails from the very dissatisfied sender he answered to. "Is that why their update was delayed?"

Without thinking, Mical reached out again, hoping the Force would answer his beck and call again - and yet…

"Shit, the kid's choking on his own damn blood now," the modded merc groaned as he searched about the room for a rag before resorting to using his own jacket as he scurried across the space to clean up Mical's mess. He wiped at the floor before even thinking of helping Mical, jostling him just-so until enough blood dislodged itself from his raw throat, allowing him to breathe again. The merc avoided his gaze, his dark eyes darting about Mical's face with a look of mingled disgust and curiosity.

"He's fine though, right?" Azkul asked, not having moved an inch upon hearing Mical in distress. None of them did, only the studious one who treated him now more like a test subject than a person. "I want to be able to at least deliver him if I can't replicate the test."

Deliver?

Mical could only look helplessly on as the slender merc cleaned the blood and spittle from his lip like a newborn, wishing all of this to be over. The merc's monocle enabled again, this time a strange overlay appearing on its slender screen as the man willed diagnostics to run at what appeared to be his will alone.

"He's fine," the merc eventually attested. "Delivery should be easy."

Delivery. Mical wasn't just a would-be Jedi but a prize to be exchanged, a rare specimen of something Other that would make everyone in this room obscenely rich. He could see it in Azkul's eyes, as well the mercenary still at his side avoiding his questing gaze like the plague. But to whom?

Mical thought of the single image he'd retrieved from Azkul's anxiety-riddled mind. Outwardly he was pleased, calm. Yet despite the smirk gracing his face now, Mical knew Azkul worried that all of this would be for naught, lest he get his cut. Azkul may not have cared about the actual outcome of his experiment for himself, if not perhaps just to have something to hold over Erebus' head the next time they spoke, but he did care about satisfying the lone figure Mical saw sitting among a sea of computers, controlling more of the unseen strings that orchestrated the comings and goings of Hutt Space and beyond.

Hutt Space. It fit. Erebus had divulged what he'd learned earlier, accidentally letting it slip that whoever Azkul answered to was also the head of the Exchange. Somehow the idea of Hutt Space had carried over in whatever glimpse of information Mical had gleaned from Azkul, only further corroborating Erebus' claim. The Exchange were everywhere and Hutt Space was expansive, but even knowing this much was worlds more than what little they had to go on before.

"Good," Azkul said, breaking Mical out of his reverie, the lightheadedness following not long after. "Then we're done here. For now."

As much as Mical wanted to rest, he also wanted to pause - to reach out with the Force again and see if it would answer. Ask it more questions and follow wherever it led him. As weak as he was, he spiritually ventured once more into the unknown, desperate for an inkling of anything as the remainder of the mercs approached to finally release him from his temporary torture - and surprisingly, it answered.

You seem kind, a voice said. It was a whisper, small and unassuming. But wild and wondrous still. Make sure these trespassers don't return to the old temple, it said. Make sure they stay away. And I will come back for you.

Mical thrashed, looking around as his body was released from its trappings only to wish they'd string him up again and plug him into the Force once more. Where are you? He thought. Who are you?

But he was only met with silence, the Force dormant in his mind as the mercs about him grunted while they relieved Mical of his downward position, placing him eventually on a stretcher nearby, thankfully horizontal now.

He reached out again, a trickle of blood running down from his nose with the effort. He almost felt nothing, the black noise all-encompassing as it pressed in on his senses, but before all feeling faded, he felt something: the snarling of teeth, the thrashing of hind legs covering tracks, and the coolness of the dawn air on a wet nose sniffing as the sun rose, damning the interlopers in their midst.

The kath hounds.

By the time the thought had caught up with Mical, time still moving both slower and faster than it should have, the mercenaries were lugging him from one end of the ruin to the other, briefly passing by the entrance to greet the rising sun. It had been dusk when they took him from the force cage. He could hardly believe an entire night had passed since then, yet another part of him could. Glancing at the grounds he still sensed the kath hounds nearby, unsatisfied from their jaunt to the ruin entrance as he'd sensed, but hungry to return the following eve.

He wanted to commit the thought to memory, to tell Erebus everything he'd discovered over the course of the night, but before they could even return Mical to his confines, all consciousness slipped away.

And all he knew was sleep.

---

3951 BBY, Citadel Station, Residential Module 082
Eden

"You may do as you please, pay no mind to me," Kreia said, her voice echoing throughout the modest common space with an air of both sugary nonchalance as well as utter falsehood. The woman said this out of seemingly nowhere, after the two of them had retired from their previous meditation session to sit in silence for the better part of the last hour. "Do as the Ithorian bids, by all means."

"I… will," Eden said half definitive, half baffled.

It's just like her to make a comment like this, Atris had once confided to Eden about her mother when they were still roommates on Dantooine, a mere fourteen and twelve years of age respectively. Back when the Order still allowed parental contact, her friend's mother had been less than enthusiastic about Atris' choice of study, disapproving of her proposed areas of expertise and always critical of how Atris styled her hair. She says it as if it's part of some larger conversation between the two of us when it isn't! It's a conversation she's only had with herself, she only lets her thoughts be known to tell me that her mind has been made up and anything I say otherwise will only further disappoint her.

Eden's mother had been far more than understanding and accommodating when she was growing up, both before and after she and Aiden had joined the Jedi. But Kreia was guilt-tripping her now like many mothers had to her peers and people she'd met since then. Atris once complained, My mother treats me as if I have both inhabited and defied her wishes. Either way, she treats me with disdain.

No wonder the woman later ruled that Jedi should sever all familial ties once joining the Order. It had been a difficult decision on Atris' part when it was still a personal choice, one Eden had encouraged - relieved to see her friend more confident and relaxed than ever once her mother was no longer a lingering influence. But now Eden felt that hovering disapproval in full, wondering if she would have had the heart to let her own mother go had she been as much of a judgmental hawk.

"Then…" Kreia paused. "Then that settles it."

Does it?

Kreia sat with her back to Eden, looking out at the expanse of Citadel Station as if the woman cared about it in any capacity. Eden knew she didn't. The woman didn't even have eyes, there was no need for her to look in that direction other than to be dramatic about it.

"Okay then," Eden breathed with an air of calm. Kreia did not respond, but instead sighed. Loudly.

It wasn't what the woman wanted to hear, but Eden relished in her discomfort nonetheless.

Another bout of silence followed, and while Eden was thankful for it, she also could not enjoy it, knowing that it was only a matter of time until -

"This will only distract you, you know," Kreia said eventually, her voice a gravely husk as she spoke to the window. "None of this will matter, in the end."

Of course it won't.

Eden rolled her eyes, a part of her knowing that Kreia could sense the indignation but willing herself not to care.

"Distractions aren't always a bad thing," Eden muttered. "More often than not, they're coping mechanisms."

Kreia said nothing.

Coping mechanism or not, working for the Ithorians was a bit more than that. Doing Chodo Habat a favor was a coping mechanism, making Eden feel useful in the wake of Malachor as everything she'd done since then had. But the promise of healing? Prior to now, Eden hadn't even considered it. Thinking it an impossibility. But if her unending despair could be healed? Rectified? She had to give it a chance. Otherwise, what else did she have? Endless retribution?

She'd conceded to the idea before, upon leaving Malak jawless as well as when she'd left Atris speechless following her exile. It was a comfortable, if not deservedly painful, existence. Comfortable in its absolution but painful in its truth. Yet to her lack of surprise, after nine long years, the corporal mortification routine was finally getting old.

"If you find this such a waste of our time, then why not explore the station yourself? You're plenty capable, Kreia," Eden offered to the woman's silence.

Kreia perked at this, a small smile glimmering over the corner of her still-turned face before a scowl took its place.

"Perhaps you are right," Kreia said. "If I find anything out, I will be sure to tell you."

There was no bite to her words but Eden felt one. A disdain that ran as an undercurrent through both Kreia's statement as well as her body language. Eden ventured this was a running theme for this woman, whoever she was truly, but knew there must have been a reason for it.

"And I'll be sure to tell you anything I discover as well," Eden conceded, her voice almost convivial, cooperative. "I'm sure the goings on of this station are far more telling than you might guess."

"Oh?" Kreia was still playing at being holier-than-thou, but Eden could tell she'd piqued the woman's interest. "And how is that?"

"The bounty, for one," Eden posited, shifting her weight on the couch even though it did nothing to bolster her confidence. "There's the mystery of who placed the bounty on Jedi and why, but I'm not interested in that. What I'm interested in is who it draws out. Not everyone was at the conclave, they couldn't have been. Not to mention I'm sure your Sith friends would be interested in learning who it draws out, too. It could give us a way of staying a step ahead."

Kreia scoffed as soon as Eden uttered the words friends and finally turned to face Eden's gaze once her thought was fully out in the open. Her lowered hood shadowed the woman's face more now that she was facing away from the brightly lit window, Kreia's features cast in darkness, though Eden saw the sliver of a smirk grace her mouth as Kreia finally got up from her resting place.

"I'm sure they would," Kreia said as her smirk faded, eventually settling on the far end of the couch Eden sat poised on. Eden had fidgeted throughout their entire exchange so far and found herself far less comfortable than where she'd started, suddenly even more on edge now that Kreia sat close by. "And it is smart of you to think so. I had not considered it."

Smart. A bead of pride radiated from Eden's center somewhere, quashed only by the awkward silence that followed. Kreia seemed at peace with the quiet, something Eden hoped the woman would also teach her to accomplish with time. But instead of asking about furthering her connection to the Force, Ithorian interference aside, Eden instead found herself asking something else entirely.

"But you do know them, don't you?" she asked quietly, gently probing lest she annoy Kreia further. "The Sith who pursue us?"

The Sith that pursue me, she wanted to emphasize before thinking the better of it.

"I knew them," Kreia answered almost immediately to Eden's surprise. The woman's face remained placid as she gazed at her from across the settee, her mouth forming neither its sour smile nor its usual scowl, instead betraying only a look of utter exhaustion. "Not unlike you once knew Revan, or Malak."

Eden bit her lip, watching as Kreia calmly continued.

"I knew them, yes, and how much like beasts they had become." Kreia almost snarled but somehow remained composed despite the poison in her words. "Combined, united against the Jedi, they command legions of Sith. If any Jedi remain, there is little hope against them, but it would be better to find any that remain than to rely solely on us two alone to take them down. But above these legions, there are three who must be stopped. Three we must defeat if we wish to have any hope for the galaxy."

"Three?" Eden echoed, as if the number alone made the task of taking them down any easier. Kreia only nodded solemnly.

"As long as any one of them lives, then we - and all life - are doomed."

Eden nodded. Or at least she had willed herself to nod but did not feel the action. She might have nodded, but her body suddenly felt detached from her consciousness, looking in like an interloper watching on from beyond. This had happened before. On Dxun, and at Malachor. Her limbs fell numb, but as soon as Kreia spoke again Eden's feeling returned in full, and at maximum, the sensation of which almost overwhelmed her.

She was about to take a gasping breath when Kreia's voice soothed her from the brink, though it was only to bring her bad news.

"One bathes in pain, feeds on it for sustenance. The other has ceased existing as a living being, so consumed by hunger that he has forgotten his own flesh. And the last is a creature of betrayals, for without such things, there is no hope."

Eden cocked her head. No hope? How betrayals and hope connected, she did not know, yet another thought escaped her mouth before she could decipher it.

"Bathes in pain," Eden repeated, thinking only of Atton and glancing at his closed door while the thought steeped - Sleeps with Vibroblades. "He's the one we saw on the Harbinger."

Kreia nodded.

"He is indeed." The woman's mouth thinned to a displeased line before continuing on, a death rattle of a sigh escaping her mouth along with an age's worth of exasperation, "Of pain, he has learned much. Of knowledge, of teaching… he knows nothing. Like the others, he was spawned by the horrors of the Mandalorian Wars. He exists solely to spread his pain to all Jedi, everywhere."

Teaching, her mind repeated. A former student maybe? Eden wanted to ask how Kreia could possibly know this, or if the man perhaps had a proper name, but instead found herself asking "And the one consumed by hunger?"

Kreia paused, moving her head toward Eden in a way that told her she glanced before grimacing, turning away before an answer took hold of her wrinkled mouth.

"The less said of that one, the better - even a stray thought may draw him, and it is possible that he cannot be defeated. He is the one who has learned the greatest of all Sith teachings - and it enslaved him. Until you are ready, we must not seek him out."

Despite having effectively told Eden nothing, a shiver of cold ran the length of her spine as she soaked in Kreia's answer. What is the greatest of all Sith teachings? Seeing Kreia act so stiff, so detached and avoidant, Eden could only think the worst.

"If it has to do with hunger…" she began, though Eden had no idea where her brain was going with this. "Does it… does it have anything to do with what happened at Nespis?"

"Nespis?" Kreia echoed, her previous demeanor quickly overwhelmed by her obvious confusion.

"Sorry, I forgot you were unconscious, right?" Eden shook her head, nursing a temple as she tried to reconcile her conflicting yet still-spotty memories. "Before the Harbinger found you, Nespis VIII was destroyed. Space City?"

"Destroyed how," Kreia asked before Eden had finished her thought, though her words escaped deadpan, no question mark curling her tongue.

"They… don't know," Eden said, "From the sounds of it, it's not unlike what happened at Katarr. It's just… gone."

Of all the anxieties Eden had nursed the night she traipsed about Citadel Station with Atton on the hunt for both money and new clothes, the rumors about both the bar and the Pazaak table about Nespis stayed with her. Was that my fault as well?

"This is the first I am hearing of it," Kreia muttered, crossing her arms over her chest as her veiled gaze swept towards the window again, her unseeing eyes following the taillights of speeders as they passed. "Perhaps you are right, then, about exploring the station. It seems there is a great deal I would stand to learn."

Eden wasn't sure if this was another jab or simply a statement. It was hard to tell with Kreia.

"As for this one's involvement, I cannot say," Kreia continued after a beat, turning to Eden again. She didn't give me a name again, Eden lamented as she met Kreia's unseeing gaze. "Though as I said, the less said of him the better."

Him, Eden picked up. Well, at least I have that much.

"And the betrayer?" Eden asked. At this, Kreia almost smiled, but her mouth downturned just as she spoke again.

"Even now she is difficult to see. She must remain hidden for now until the time is right - if not, then all our efforts will be for nothing. In this you must trust me. If she is exposed too soon, then this war will be over before it has begun."

Eden cocked her head, question after question crowding her head as Kreia spoke and then relished in the silence that followed.

Trust me, the silence seemed to echo, even though Kreia said nothing.

For a brief moment, Eden felt as if she were being hunted, backed into a corner and unable to move. Her mouth lay dormant, questions building but frozen still on her tongue.

A mantra of trust me, trust me, trust me, resonated in her mind in lieu of her own thoughts, silencing her inner monologue. Before she could question it, Eden felt unending calm, an unplanned sigh of relief escaping her lips as a true sense of stillness overcame her, her questions dissipating before she could recall them.

And then, the spell broke.

"I will conduct my own investigation, then," Kreia announced as she ascended from the settee again, gathering her robes as she stood. "I wish you luck."

Luck? Eden thought. With what?

Within a few seconds' time, Kreia had already crossed the room and left the apartment, leaving Eden with the remains of her memory.

Eden watched after her, her eyes unblinking as Kreia disappeared from the module. Even after she'd gone, Eden sat staring at the closed door, wondering whether their previous conversation had ever happened at all.

"What was Kreia just going on about?" Atton asked, finally emerging from his room as he shouldered his usual vest on. "Where's she going?"

Pain. Hunger. Betrayal. Eden cycled through the words in her mind until they stuck, every moment of her conversation coming back in waves as if it had all been a dream.

"She's doing her own thing," Eden said, standing now. Unsure of what just happened and whether she'd imagined it, Eden shuddered and played it off as a stretch.

Atton looked her up and down, his brow furrowing. He didn't say anything, but he looked at her as if to ask, Are you okay?

Eden shrugged and then nodded, lying.

"Ready to head to the docks?" she asked. Atton paused; one arm threaded through his vest as he paused on the second.

"Uh… yeah, sure. If you are."

Atton slipped his other hand through the limp arm of his leather jacket, watching Eden all the while. She felt strange, off-kilter, and while she knew Kreia had something to do with it, Eden was also not ready to jump to conclusions.

She looked at her hand, wondering if Kreia felt her flexing digits through their shared bond as she furled and unfurled her fingers into a fist.

"Uh, yeah. Ready."

Eden stepped into her boots and shrugged into her new garb, watching Atton from the corner of her eye. He didn't say anything, but she felt the concern radiating off him anyway.

"You sure?" he asked again once Eden stood dressed and poised by the door. "Did she say something to you?"

The easy answer was yes, but what exactly felt off out of everything Kreia had said was what bothered her. Eden combed through every word of their conversation, even reading into the shared silence and the meditation that preceded it, but Eden still couldn't explain the unusual serenity that came over her just as Kreia left the module. It was as if she were being lulled to sleep, made complacent somehow. She'd heard Kreia speak in her mind at Peragus, but not since. And not like this. What had just happened now wasn't unlike it was then, Kreia's voice echoing Trust me much as she had willed Eden awake from her coma. But it was the feeling that came along with it that felt different. As if the feeling were not her own.

"Sort of," Eden admitted after a beat, knowing that Atton was growing increasingly worried by the minute. Perhaps not for her sake, but for his own, now trapped with two strange non-Jedi he'd rather be rid of. "But… I don't think she meant it."

Eden wasn't sure how she knew or how she could be so sure. Perhaps it was the Force bond, or maybe intuition. Or perhaps she was wrong altogether. But something told her that Kreia had meant to send a message - to make Eden feel guilty for her choice as well as heed Kreia's warning about the Sith that hunted them - but the sensation that followed was unexpected, a force of habit. Kreia hadn't meant to do it but had anyway, her only solution being exiting the apartment altogether.

Was that… a Jedi mind trick?

Kreia had not moved her hands when she spoke. But then again, Eden hadn't been looking. And even if Kreia had not moved, Kreia was likely strong enough in the Force to forgo such a thing. Or was she?

The woman had feigned death, after all.

"Didn't mean what?"

Atton was looking at Eden almost blankly now, not quite annoyed or concerned, but some mix of utterly confused and almost scared that sat in the middle of either emotion. His eyes were wide as he scanned her face, the irises of his eyes more hazel than grey now.

"Nothing, never mind," Eden sighed. "I'm fine, let's just go."

She knew Atton wasn't convinced, but he was willing to let it go with a shrug.

"If you say so," he muttered before extending his hand towards the still-closed door. "Lead the way, then."

Eden looked at him, wondering if Kreia had done a number on their reluctant pilot, too. She wanted to trust the old woman, knowing it was her only way forward, especially if Eden wanted answers. But Force bond or no, if she couldn't tell whether the woman was lying to her or not - it almost didn't seem worth it. But someone like Atton wouldn't still be here if she had, no? Or was that exactly the reason why he was still here, doing everything Eden asked of him?

Atton looked between Eden and the door, finally inching towards the access panel to open the damn thing himself.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked again, hand hovering over the panel.

Eden shook her head and answered a little too quickly, "Not really, but that's not exactly news, so let's just get on with it, shall we?"

The sooner Chodo Habat could heal her the better.

"Uh sure, yeah," Atton shrugged, almost at a loss for words. His face blushed red before he coughed purposefully and took the lead, moving on as if the last few awkward moments had never happened. Within the span of a second, Atton's palm gently pressed the door panel and the barrier between their police-appointed haven and the busy causeway beyond it dissolved until the two were indistinguishable and Atton ebbed into the flow of traffic as if he'd always existed there. "Well, the depot is this way, if you remember."

Once free of the apartment, it was as if whatever had happened within it never had - Eden's uncertainty melting the moment she fell in stride with Atton desperately changing the subject and the overall mood.

She wasn't sure what exactly he was rambling on about, but she was thankful for it. And unsure of what she would do once their pilot decided to leave for good.

---

Notes: This is a weird chapter for me. I am oddly proud of the last one, but this current one was difficult to work through because my beloved cat, Finn, passed away while editing it. He was only six. I adopted Finn as a kitten shortly after embarking on this ambitious fic endeavor, and he frequently enjoyed spending time with me as I wrote this, often sitting on my laptop and occasionally contributing a typo or two through the years. I miss him dearly and it feels weird working on this project without him here - though this chapter has also provided a much-needed distraction from his passing as well. It will be difficult working on future chapters without his help but I will be missing him just the same.