Chapter XXXV

During her childhood, the underlevels of Coruscant had been a place of comfort for Jade. For an adventurous, curious child being prepared to one day become a monarch, the vibrant wildlife that coated the empty streets and ruined buildings had given the young child a place to explore, to roam, to be herself.

You can't run forever, Jade heard a twisted version of her own voice whispering in her mind, I am your destiny, Jade.

Asharr had sought to possess her, dominating her mind and turning her on those she loved. Jade had thought she had broken free. Now, she felt that Asharr had succeeded after all. Jade knew that the burden of what she had done would stay with her for a long time.

Though she was surrounded by a lively jungle, she felt hollow, cold, empty. Instead of feeling free and purposeful, she felt even more lost than ever.

Though she remained committed to her goal, she had alienated herself from everything. She had distanced herself from everyone who tried to help her, including the one person she still loved.

Riko was gone. For the first time in her life, Jade knew what it was like to be alone.

Suddenly, Jade heard a noise. Something was approaching!

Her first instinct was to ignite her lightsabers, but she relented. Instead, she peered outward with the Force and listened.

From behind an alleyway came a Rodian, who shambled towards her, brandishing a spear in his hand. His body was covered in spiky protrusions, and every sound he uttered was wracked by pain. A vongspawn.

Jade reluctantly ignited her lightsabers, and braced herself for battle.

"Yap Yap!" A high-pitched bark echoed across the alleyway. It sounded...familiar.

The vongspawn turned towards the source of the sound, as did Jade.

"Yap Yap!" The creature barked more fiercely. Jade saw the shadow of a six-legged canine beast approach the alleyway.

The frightened Vongspawn ran, fleeing back into the depths of the jungle. Deactivating her sabers, Jade regretted she couldn't use her healing powers to help his affliction. She silently vowed to get them back.

The canine began to run towards her, sprinting at high speed. Before Jade knew it, a massive blur of dirty white fur collided with her leg, causing Jade to fall on her stomach. The canine – a Strill – ran to Jade's face and started to lick her cheek.

"Lulu!" Jade shouted elatedly, tears running down her eyes as she hugged her beloved childhood companion, ignoring the stench that emanated from their body. Lulu had grown much larger, their bark deeper, but they were still as eager and energized as ever.

Lulu suddenly grew quieter, lowering their snout to the duracrete floor, their ears drooping. Their whimpers made Jade's heart ache.

She noticed the state of Lulu's fur––matted, covered in burs and stray flakes of coral. They had been living out here for a while.

Jade couldn't help but think back to Riko's warning, and smiled slightly. He had been right, she wasn't alone.

"It's okay, Lulu," Jade rubbed her long-lost companion's belly, "I'm home now."

She rose to her feet, and the eager Strill followed suit, ready for a new adventure.

"Come on. Let's get moving."

The Abandoned Temple

Tau Skywalker saw nothing but omens everywhere he looked. As he stood atop the summit of the Temple's ziggurat, everything he saw of the battle that had been waged here was a harbinger of the darkness to come.

Most of the Jedi Shadows stationed here had been killed in the battle, their bodies strewn across the Temple rooftop. Though the Mandalorians had lost many, there were enough to secure the area and assess the damage without assistance. The last thing Tau needed was for Alliance Security or stormtroopers to be poking through the Temple right now, before he had completed an alibi. He wasn't sure how many people would believe it.

"We failed to contain them," Míranda explained as they walked through the ruins, "They managed to break through our stranglehold and made it to their ships. And Kali'sto is with them."

Once, Tau might have been angry. Now, he simply felt...numb.

"It's as we feared," he said softly.

"As we feared," Míranda replied.

Neither had anything more to say to one another.

"Please, leave me," Tau asked, "I wish to be alone."

Míranda nodded. As she left to coordinate her subordinates, Tau walked through the battlefield, examining the carnage that had been left behind. His heart seized as he saw Yanas Illa's corpse, and he found himself panting, kneeling beside her.

He had felt her death in the Force, but seeing her body sprawled upon the pavement burned away some of the hollowness that had gripped him, stabbing yet another proverbial knife in his heart, yet another loss.

He closed his eyes and quieted his mind, listening for the echoes in the Force.

Around him, he heard the sound of lightsabers clashing and grunts of pain and anguish. Smoke filled the air, singeing his nostrils and irritating his eyes. The ground shook as turbolasers impacted the ground and grenades and debris impacted the courtyards and pavilions around him.

Directly ahead, Yanas Illa dueled fiercely with Bao-Sklar Pierce, a clash of master combatants that ended when Bao struck the killing blow. He watched intently as she fell to the ground, only to deactivate his lightsaber and extend his hand, offering to save his fallen opponent. She refused and peacefully accepted her end. He looked upon her somberly, and declared that it was time to leave this place…

When his mind returned to the present, Tau clutched his temples as his overwhelmed heart and mind processed the echoes he had seen.

He was relieved to see that Bao hadn't lost his empathy, and conflicted – proud, sad, yet frustrated – when Illa chose to meet her end.

Examining Illa's closed eyes and peaceful expression, Tau was reminded of the way he had left Thalia's corpse after she died, after he had killed her.

He closed his eyes as tears began to flow. The wound of Thalia's murder still bled fiercely, and he never wished it to heal. Too much had been lost with her. With her, he had killed a part of himself, and his daughter. He supposed he had killed their family, too.

The day continued, and Tau journeyed further into the Temple. His attempts to use the Sith-built prisons had failed, and he was no longer certain that there was a way to convert Adherents en-masse beyond the sizable fraction of Jedi – the hundreds of padawans, knights, and even some Masters – who followed him now.

There was no way he could cover this up. Every Jedi, every Force-user across the galaxy, would know of the battle that had taken place on Coruscant, at the Old Temple, which had become a Sith bastion guarded by Jedi sentinels. Those who had already converted were the last who would listen to reason. The rest were a danger to the Balance, and unchecked, their fanatical devotion to the Light Side risked unleashing an era of pacifistic stagnation which would give way to the return of the Dark Side and the return of the endless wars.

There were ways to frame this incident so that Tau might maintain his support among his disciples. And even if the truth was revealed, he knew that many of the Jedi who followed his philosophy would stay with him to the end. The thought brought him little comfort.

The war he had worked tirelessly to prevent would come. Many more Jedi would have to die, and more ran the risk of falling to either the light or dark. This war would test the Jedi Order at its heart, its soul, and Tau had to be certain that he kept his disciples in balance, lest he unleash a new terror upon the galaxy.

In ancient times, there had been a "Jedi Civil War," a name which Tau found quite apt when one looked past the surface. Thousands of years ago, the Mandalorians had unleashed a vicious onslaught upon the worlds of the Old Republic, driving it to the brink of collapse. Defying the Jedi Council's orders to stay out of the conflict, a Jedi Knight known as Revan rallied like-minded Jedi and the battered Republic military to victory against the Mandalorians. However, he returned to Republic space as Darth Revan, ruler of a new Sith Empire formed from corrupted Jedi and disgruntled Republic soldiers. The resultant wars had almost torn the already weakened galaxy asunder.

Revan's complicated life and legacy displayed many of the ways in which light and dark were truly intertwined, but the reason as to why the mythic warrior had embraced the Sith teachings in the first place was what Tau found most intriguing. Even as a Jedi, Revan recognized that the victory against the Mandalorians necessitated moral shortcuts and sacrifices, studying the Mandalorians' tactics and meeting their ruthlessness with his own, choosing to embrace the burden for the sake of the Republic. But the Mandalorians were only the beginning of a darker truth that lay behind the conflict. Beyond them, Revan discovered an ancient, arcane civilization known as the True Sith lurking in the depths of uncharted space: an all-powerful, incomprehensible nightmare waiting in the darkness to unleash death and chaos on an unimaginable scale upon the galaxy; a threat to life itself.

As in Kali'sto's time, the Jedi had lost touch with the people of the wider galaxy and became slaves to their own dogma and arrogance. Unwilling to aid the war against the Republic as the Mandalorians pillaged it, they would have intervened too late to save it. Victim to the dogmatic self-righteousness that plagued those who fell too far to the Light, the Council never would have heeded Revan's warning in time to prepare for the True Sith. Revan was the only one who understood the threat the True Sith posed, and he understood that the Jedi and Republic lacked the strength and the will to survive what was to come.

Revan's solution was to sacrifice himself and his followers to the Dark Side, becoming Darth Revan and instigating the Jedi Civil War to strengthen the Jedi and the Republic into a force capable of defeating the True Sith. Regardless of the outcome, whether Revan ruled the galaxy or was defeated by them, he intended to prepare the galaxy to face the greater evil awaiting them.

Tau saw many parallels between Revan's ideals and his own: both understood the weaknesses of the Jedi Order, both were natural scholars who delved deeply into the Force and embraced all its aspects, and both recognized that desperate situations required a being to turn against their morality and even those they loved for the sake of the greater good. However, Tau had come to realize the danger of extremes, taking the best from both Jedi and Sith teachings and embracing the Force as a whole, finding balance between Light and Dark. Revan had come so close to the same understanding, but he had turned away from revelation. Unable to fully escape the dichotomy of Jedi and Sith teachings, Revan's failure lay in the bluntness of his conversion. By fully embracing the Dark Side and attempting to conquer the galaxy openly as a tyrant, Darth Revan tried to drag the rest of the galaxy down the path of necessary evil only he could walk. This miscalculation seriously backfired: first when Revan's apprentice usurped his master and seized the Sith throne, and second in the Jedi Civil War's aftermath, when far worse threats emerged from the tattered remnants of Revan's Sith – monstrous nightmares spawned from the graveyards left in the wake of his wars – which almost destroyed the Jedi, the galaxy, and even the Force itself.

There were supposed to be no such mistakes in Tau's mission. The assassination of the Jedi Council and conversion of the Order was intended to be his burden alone, a battle he and a trusted few would wage in the shadows. To embrace balance was to walk upon the blade of a knife, and though Tau wanted the Jedi to escape the apathetic asceticism of the light and the vicious temptation of the dark, his specific path was one most beings could never tread without falling into darkness.

Yanas Illa was one of the few others who could balance the line between good and evil. As a Jedi Shadow who studied and hunted the last relics of the Dark Side, she understood the Force as Tau did, and knew firsthand of what would come if they failed. She knew the dangers of the Dark Side, and was willing to aid in his mission to change the Jedi Order. By sharing Tau's burden, Illa had even slightly eased it for him. She was a loyal ally and trusted friend.

Now she too was gone. Save for Míranda, Tau was now alone. He had failed, and conversation and teaching would turn to battle and bloodshed. Despite all his efforts, the cycle was repeating itself. As before, now the conversion of the Jedi Order would be made in war.

Illa was not the only ally who had been lost this day. Tau had trained Asharr with high hopes, grooming her for a great responsibility. He had wanted her to lead the Consortium with benevolence, controlling the criminal underworld and manipulating it to act for the benefit of the galaxy. Tau had hoped that in addition to stabilizing a fiercely-independent Outer Rim in the Triumvirate's absence, this would help Asharr find peace. But he had planted the seeds of her fall before her training had begun, seeds which had sprouted into hate, anger, and a lust for power…and vengeance. She had become his greatest failure; the monster she had become and the atrocities she had wrought were his fault.

So he felt grief as he stood within the ancient Jedi shrine, examining Asharr's corpse. He looked upon her ruined face, the scars left by lightning he himself had inflicted upon learning what she had done. Asharr had been his disciple, and he had failed her.

His required presence on Coruscant had made him decide to keep her here where he could watch her directly. He had thought that the shield of light erected over the Temple would be enough to contain her powers, but evidently she had a link with those she had enslaved that transcended such protections.

Though a pragmatist willing to kill Asharr if need be, Tau had hoped – against reason, against rationality – that meditating in this place, bathed in the calming presence of the light side, would help his fallen disciple heal her physical and emotional scars and align her back into balance.

Delving into the Force, he closed his eyes and saw the echo of Asharr's death. She meditated in the center of the chamber – her body healing slowly with daily injections of bacta – eagerly awaiting what was to come.

The walls of the chamber shifted and rumbled as ancient mechanisms unveiled an entrance. The stone doors opened and Tau gasped as he saw Jade walk in, lightsabers in hand, anger and pain radiating from her like a beacon.

Horror burned away all reason as Tau saw his daughter attempt to kill Asharr. He wanted to run towards Jade, to stop her. He begged and pleaded, but not a sound issued from his lips. The event had already happened, he could do nothing to stop it.

Thus, he could only watch helplessly as Asharr subdued Jade through the Force, manipulating her body like some twisted puppet. As Jade embraced her pain and chained Asharr in her grip. As she killed Asharr and delved into her dying mind. And then stepped back, in shock. She realized what she was becoming, and that discovery broke her.

Tau staggered back, white-hot rage and shock filling him to the brim. Tears streamed down his cheeks and the walls of the ancient shrine cracked as a storm began to build up inside him. He unleashed a primal cry that shattered the shrine into rocks and dust. As rubble collapsed around him, he fell to his knees and wept at his own failure.

Just like Asharr, Jade was falling to the dark side. As he had unintentionally done to Asharr, Tau had hurt Jade, and now the dark side was devouring her soul. Whatever it took, Tau had to save her. He would save them all.

No more doubts, no more hesitation. He refused to let the Jedi nor the galaxy fall into darkness. He was the Grand Master of the Jedi Order, heir to the Chosen One, scion of the Skywalker line, student of Jedi and Sith teachings, wielder of Light and Dark, and he would restore balance through whatever means were necessary.

He would find Jade and help her heal her wounds. He would make amends with her or let her hate him – whichever outcome helped her find peace. She was out there, somewhere, and he would find her.

A second Jedi Civil War would come, but Tau would contain the fighting. This battle would be waged in secret, in the shadows, so the peoples of the Alliance and the Empire would not become collateral damage. Tau knew that Bao would follow this strategy as well: neither of them wished for a pan-galactic war, and this conflict would never become that. Between the Adherents and the Omnists – those who divided the Force and those who embraced its whole, the Jedi of the past and the Jedi of the future – a last war would be fought and won so balance would be restored and the galaxy would find respite from the endless battle between light and dark.

This Tau swore for Jade, Yanas Illa, Asharr, Thalia, K'Kruhk, Bao, Kali'sto, all those he had hurt, killed, and had yet to kill. All he had done and would do would be in their memory, their sacrifices the foundation for a better world, where the selfishness of the Sith nor dogmatic apathy of the Old Jedi would never hold sway over the galaxy again.

He rose to his feet. There was much to be done, and he had to start immediately. He had to explain his actions to the Jedi Order, brand Bao and the others as renegades. He would say that Bao had succumbed to the fear that Jedi who had fallen to the Light often experienced. The fear of the dark side; the fear that had compelled the Jedi to become ascetic monks who denied love and passion, to relentlessly destroy any trace of the Dark Side…

Throughout the long walk through the ruined halls, Tau's fervor began to diminish. Eventually, a new idea broke the calming surface of his mind.

Was there another way? Could he have spread his philosophy without having to kill K'Kruhk and the other masters?

He ceased his planning and pondered this new line of thought, curious where it would take him.

He wondered if he could have explained his ideas more clearly to the Masters, made them see what he had seen, perhaps even brought them to the worlds he had discovered. Would they have understood? Or would they have condemned him more openly?

Even still, would the rest of the Order have listened to reason? Should Tau have brought Bao, Kali'sto, Thalia, or Jade to his side more openly? Could he have better explained the truth of the Force and the endless cycle its opposing sides wrought?

Could he still explain his revelations more clearly? Could he repair the Jedi schism peacefully; end the war now, before it truly began?

He dismissed the notion as unrealistic. Even if there had been another option in the past, any Jedi still loyal to the old ways would no longer accept his teachings, war was unfortunately the only path to restoring balance now.

Still, as Tau watched Coruscant's sun rise on the ruined Temple, a small part of him couldn't help but wonder.

Skysprite, Star System C1157, Inner Rim

The Wild Nomad rendezvoused with Skysprite in orbit of a frigid planet orbiting a small, cold, dying star, which, lacking habitable environments or natural resources worth the expense of excavating – had been left alone, marked only by a number on more detailed starcharts, a lonely, dying system that was a dim light lost among many brighter ones in the black void of space.

Once the two groups had been reunited, Bao had spent the time since the battle accounting for the survivors, tending to injuries, and attempting to raise some measure of morale. The majority of the former prisoners had made it through with minor injuries, and Master Lowbacca had survived as a result of Emdee's care. They had survived to fight another day.

The hardest task had been counting those who had not. Several Jedi had died on both sides of this battle, and Bao felt that in some way, every death was a loss. He wondered if Jedi in ages past had felt the same way towards their Sith enemies, or whether their opponents had been so far gone that they hadn't felt the same loss of kin that he did now.

The Jedi Order had suffered a terrible wound, and Bao understood that more was yet to come. Tau Skywalker had to be stopped, and Bao knew that at least some of the Omnists would follow him to the end. He couldn't help but fear that a new order of Darksiders would emerge from whatever conflict had just begun.

More personally, he had another failure to account for. Reflecting further upon Riko's words and everything Jade had endured and said, Bao realized that Jade's near-fall and escapade was partially his fault. He had known that she was still healing, and still brought her into harm's way, and refused to listen when she had asked his help. He wondered if, had he been more attentive as a friend and a crewmate, he could have stopped her brush with the Dark Side and her subsequent departure.

Promise me, Bao, K'Kruhk's warning echoed in his mind, Do not let your fear of the past blind you from taking action in the now.

Bao felt as if he had broken that promise.

Once he completed his meditation, he made his way to Skysprite's conference room where he, Master Lowbacca, Kali'sto and his friend Orra Jen, the Imperial Knight Akarta Mae had convened. In addition, Bao had also invited Riko and Val, whose counsel he felt would be valuable. And...he wanted their company.

"Greetings, everyone," Bao began once they finished arriving, gathering around a wide holotable, "We have survived the battle, now we must plan our next move."
"Our first objective should be to set up a command structure," Akarta proposed, "With the Jedi council gone, most of the Masters assassinated, and Empress Fel's death, we'll need new leaders to rally behind."

"Muuunaaaa," Lowbacca agreed with Akarta, wincing slightly. Until his injuries healed, he had to rely on a hoverchair to get around, "Rrrgh, uurrrrrrraaaaagggghh, raaagh oorrghh."

Bao felt a strange mix of honor and...surprising reluctance upon hearing Lowbacca address him by the rank of Master. He was never the type to leap in joy regarding things this important, but the weight of what had just transpired weighed heavily upon him. Still, he accepted the honor and the responsibility that being a Jedi Master and a leader entailed…

"Wait," Bao processed the rest of Lowbacca's statement. "You wish me to lead our mission to defeat Tau?"
"Aarrrgh," Lowbacca corrected, "Rugh arrraaaghhh."

No, he wanted Bao to become the interim Grand Master of the Jedi Order.

"No," Bao protested, "It should be you, Master Lowbacca."
"Muawaggh," the Council Master disagreed, "Grrnn rugh aauugh aaargh."

"I am not a Jedi, nor an Imperial Knight," Kali'sto added, "I have been a soldier, but never a commander. I have never rallied an army nor a community. But I recognize those who can."

Bao silently mused over their words. Begrudgingly, Bao silently agreed: age did bring experience, but not the qualities of leadership.

"You proved yourself during the battle," Akarta declared, "It was your leadership that allowed us to escape."

"You always keep an open mind, Bao," Val added, "And you're not afraid to admit when you're wrong."

Bao smiled toothily at his old friend before glancing around the room. Their decision seemed to be unanimous. But there was one person who hadn't voiced his opinion.

"What do you think, Riko?" It may have been unprofessional to seek his apprentice's counsel, but right now, especially in the wake of Jade's disappearance, Bao valued Riko's input as much as everyone else's.

Riko had endured the events of the past few days with grace. The boy's eyes were red, but he still stood tall as he answered Bao's question.

"You've always been a wise leader, Master Bao," Riko spoke with confidence and conviction, "You're never afraid to admit your mistakes, and you always encourage me to find a better solution. You're ready, Master."

Bao said nothing, appreciative of and stunned by his padawan's support.

Our time is over, K'Kruhk's parting words echoed in his mind, And we have passed on all we know. A thousand generations live in you now. The future of the Jedi Order is yours to make.

"I humbly accept this responsibility," Bao said sincerely. He wondered if K'Kruhk's ghost had also appeared to Lowbacca or anyone else present.

Learn from our mistakes, Bao-Sklar Pierce…

"But the Jedi are governed by a council, not one being. Mine should be one of many unique voices who work together to decide the future of the Jedi Order."

But also our successes.

"This shall be the start of a new council," Bao gestured to the room around him, "We shall seek out the wisest and most experienced Jedi in this galaxy and rally our Order under the guidance of a new generation of Jedi Masters and experienced allies with wisdom to share," he gestured to Kali'sto, Val, Orra Jen, and Akarta as he said this, "We will defeat Tau Skywalker and resolve the conflict that has split us apart. This I vow, here and now."

"Here here," Val agreed.

"I know of several potential refuges," Kali'sto suggested, "We will need resources…"

As the makeshift Council pulled up a holoimage of the galaxy and began discussing their next move, Bao looked around the room, at the beings that had gathered – that he had helped gather – and saw a new beginning.

Wild Nomad

Hours later, Kali'sto found Riko in the Nomad's cargo bay. He was sitting at the workbench, his own lightsaber off to the side, Míranda's ornate saber disassembled on the table. Riko was engrossed in the crystal chamber, contemplatively examining the cage-like housing and the vibrant cyan gem within.

Given Riko's tendency to completely tune out his surroundings whilst tinkering, Kali'sto was unsure if the boy knew he was there. This wouldn't be the first time Kali'sto would have surprised him…

"Hi Dad," Riko looked up.

Kali'sto smiled, asking, "What are you doing?"

"I'm contemplating if I can add a second crystal to Mom's old lightsaber," Riko explained, "So I can turn it into a dual-phase lightsaber with a rapidly adjustable blade length."

"Sounds ambitious," Kali'sto remarked. He himself had assembled that lightsaber using parts gathered – and in the case of the ornate hilt, sculpted – by Míranda. He suspected that Míranda would be happy to learn that her son had such a creative passion of his own, like she had.

"I think it can be a good tool for surprising opponents," Riko said. His expression grew less excited as he added, "I was a little hesitant, though. This is the first time I've tried upgrading this lightsaber. It and Niner were all I had left of home, for a while. I've never tried to change this one before."

"I believe you should leave your own mark upon it," Kali'sto replied. He then asked, "Are you alright, Riko?"

Riko always tried to clear his mind by taking machines apart and then rebuilding them, better than before. It had been a long few weeks, and the boy had many pieces to sort through.

"I have a lot to think about," he replied.

"Indeed," Kali'sto said. He placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, which was heavy with a burden that Kali'sto knew all too well. He wondered if it still had yet to become heavier before the end.

Riko's eyes suddenly lit up as a thought crossed his mind.
"I thought back to all the Jedi stories you told me when I was little," he began, "I think I see what you were really trying to tell me now."

Riko had always loved Jedi stories, and Kali'sto, whose prejudices towards the Order had faded to a degree in those days, had obliged him, detailing the trials and tribulations the great heroes and masters of the Order had endured to save the galaxy.

Among the stories he had told, the ones Kali'sto had enjoyed the most were those of what he once believed to be a different kind of Jedi. Jedi such as Djinn Altis, Zayne Carrick, Nejaa Halcyon, Meetra Surik: beings who had rebelled against the Order's teachings and refused to surrender their attachments towards the beings they protected, beings motivated not by dogma or duty to some institution but empathy, love, and compassion. Beings like Rays.

Kali'sto had once seen these Jedi as the exception to the rule. Now, he doubted that conception.

"I believe you took a different lesson from their stories," Kali'sto smiled warmly, "A far more important one than what I sought to teach. You passed that lesson on to me when you stood up to me and declared yourself a Jedi."

He moved to his knees and looked his son in the eye as he said, "I am so proud of you, Riko."

Riko hugged him tightly.

"I love you, Dad."

Dorjander Kace, Hyperspace

After days of assessing the ruins of the battlefield and counting the dead, Míranda once again found herself in her quarters, painting a picture through the technique of Jorhaa'tara. The battle and its aftermath had given her much to meditate upon as her longing and regret flowed through her mind and onto the canvas, sketching an image of her deepest regrets. She thought of Val, and the relationship they had once shared before he had been exiled. Kali'sto and the mentor he had been, the wanderer with stories and wisdom from a hundred thousand worlds and cultures learned across several lifetimes. And Riko, the child she had given up who had grown up into a Jedi. His face, bruised and battered, yet still hopeful and determined, lingered in her mind so clearly.

Eventually, she ran out of ink, and finished. No interruptions from Vorer this time to disrupt her concentration. Drained, but relieved to have let it all flow out, she examined her work.

Instead of another recapture of Maladi's Scourge, now she had painted a different vista which recalled another time in her life, yet one equally important to her.

When Riko was born, Clan Tracinya had been in the throes of ideological upheaval. The ancestors of the clan had endured through the rise and fall of the Empire, the rebirth of the Jedi Order and the countless Sith and Dark Jedi they had battled across the centuries, from Kueller to Darth Caedus, the Lost Tribe to the One Sith, with the unworldly devastation of Maladi's Scouring being the final blow. Many members of the clan had become hateful of not just the Sith, but the Jedi and all Force-using orders as well. They saw them as malignant demigods that twisted the galaxy to their will and left suffering and death in their wake. Some sought to abandon the galaxy and live out their lives on what remained of Manda'yaim. A radical few even talked about hunting down Jedi wherever they could.

Míranda had been different, a leader for those within the clan who saw the Jedi in a different light. Through her friendship with Kali'sto – and by extension, Tau Skywalker – she had come to understand the Jedi and knew that despite their flaws, they were brave protectors worthy of respect, even friendship. This had made for a very tenuous period amongst the ravaged remnants of the Mandalorians who still lived on their homeworld. The peace between the clans had been pushed to the brink, centuries of animosity boiling within the people of Mandalore, all it would have taken was a spark to ignite it. And it was far more than a spark that had broken the peace and turned warriors and siblings against one another in a brief but brutal uprising that had claimed the lives of many warriors within Clan Tracinya.

Upon discovering her pregnancy, Míranda had fled offworld, deciding to lie low until Riko was born so he might be kept out of the fray. It was during her time on the run, when she had finally made her refuge upon the wastes of Ambria that Tau had shared his new ideology with her, enthralling her with his vision of a Force kept in balance between light and dark, an age of perfect harmony.

Míranda's task would be to reunite her shattered people, and help to pacify the Outer Rim through the Consortium Tau intended to build to aid independent worlds, including the ravaged Mandalore. So she had made her choice to help him, and gave Riko to Kali'sto…and left behind another important part of her life in the process.

Now, in the present, before her stood a drawing, sketched in black ink, of the tall canyons of Natth Valley on Ambria, with her old homestead in the center of the frame. Beside the boulder-shaped homestead stood the small, rough outline of a skinny, wiry boy, goggles on his face and a shining blade of light in his hand.

Míranda looked upon her work and smiled, finally at peace. At last, her course was clear.

Wild Nomad

Riko found Val in the Nomad's cockpit, chatting with someone on holo. A humanoid man with bright prosthetic eyes and a very flamboyant suit.

"It's been a pleasure, Moro," Val said. Once the holoimage dissolved, he proceeded to remove his helmet. As Riko watched, Val's gaze turned towards the door.

"Hey kid," he spoke to Riko with much more warmth, "How are you holding up?"

"I'm okay," Physically, Riko's cheek still ached and he might have a small scar on his lip, but Emdee had repaired the worst of his injuries. Emotionally, he felt…hollow, as if a part of himself was missing.

He asked, "What are you doing?"

"Bao asked me to contact Moro J'onni," Val explained, "He doesn't want anyone else getting caught up in all this, but we'll need supplies and ships, maybe even a safe haven. It turns out smuggling terraform-grade wildlife is very profitable in the Outer Rim; Moro was so pleased at the business venture we provided him on Ambria that he was willing to reach out to some of his clients for me."

"I'm glad he's happy," Riko smirked. He sat down in the seat next to Val, uncertain...how he wanted to say what he needed to say.

"Something wrong?" Val asked.

"Um…" Riko decided to just say it, "I know, Val. I know you're my biological father."
Val's face grew pale. He asked, "Did Emdee tell you, or Bao?"

"No…Wait, Bao knew about this?" Riko's eyes widened, "Why didn't he say anything?"

"I wanted to be the one to tell you," Val replied, "But how did you find out?"

"Dad and I noticed the way you reacted when we found Mom," Riko explained, "I thought back to everything we've been through, and I started to wonder. Emdee confirmed it, and she showed me the test."

"Well, the truth's out in the open, kid," Val sighed, "What do you want to do?"
Riko wasn't sure what to do. He had experienced so many emotional shocks in the past few weeks that the impact of this one felt slightly numbed. He primarily wondered about the odds that Val would know both his future teacher and his mother. They had to be astronomical…he wasn't sure Niner could calculate that probability.

"I'm just curious," Riko eventually said, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"There's a Mandalorian proverb, kid," Val said, "Aliit ori'shya tal'din. It means 'Family is more than blood.' Family's the people who love you and protect you."

"Yeah," Riko responded, "That is true."

"Kali'sto's your real dad, kid," Val explained, "That's why I backed off. I didn't even know I might have a kid until the day we met. I can never take his place, and I don't want to."

"I…" Riko said, "I guess I understand."

Though he had been curious as to the identity of his mother, he had never wanted to know exactly who his biological father was. Kali'sto was his father, that would never change.

"I'm glad I know you, kid," Val smiled, "I'm glad you're here."

"I am, too," Riko replied. With Val's helmet removed, Riko now saw traces of his own face in his features.

"You know," Riko began, "For most of my life, I've only had one parent to raise me…"
"Old wanderers aren't my type, kid," Val quipped.

"That wasn't what I was trying to say," Riko didn't find it that amusing.

"I know," Val said, "Sorry kid."

"Val," Riko assured him, "You've been there for me ever since we first met. I think you're earned the right to be a second dad. Having you in my life doesn't mean you'd supplant Kali'sto, it just means I get to know both of my fathers."

Val's eyes widened for a moment, but he then smiled widely.

"Tell you what, kid," Val began, "Look around."

"The cockpit?" Riko asked as he followed Val's instructions.

"The Nomad's been my home for my whole life," Val explained, "Better part of forty years. One day, she'll be yours."

Riko was touched by the gesture. He knew this ship better than any other vessel he had ever traveled upon: her top speed, her heavy armor, her segmented interior. He could navigate his way around the cargo bay with his eyes closed – literally. The Wild Nomad had become his home.

But… He felt a curious desire to strike back at Val's earlier quip. Val's sense of humor, while normally fun, was a bit much here, in a way Riko didn't like. He needed a retort.

"Why would I want a ninety-year old ship?" he eventually said.

For a whole minute, Val didn't say anything, attempting to unravel the meaning of Riko's confusing quip. Riko felt a weird sense of mischievous enjoyment at the reaction his statement had caused. His words were intended to be both humorous and affectionate, and he hoped Val would understand.

"Huh," Val said as he figured it out, "You think I have fifty years left. Your quips really need work, kid."

"I do need to work on it, Val," Riko explained when a new thought jumped into his head. He asked, "What's the Mandalorian word for dad?"

"Buir," Val replied.

"Okay, Boo-er," Riko tried unsuccessfully to pronounce it.

"Yeah, just keep calling me Val."

"Let me try again," Riko insisted.

"Please, kid," Val begged, "I'm good with Val."

"Does that mean you is my dad, too?" Niner said excitedly as he rolled in.

"Just go with Val!"

"Okay," Riko smiled. Val smirked and placed his hand on the boy's shoulder affectionately. Riko knew that he was home.

His smile faded as his joy gave way to somber realization: there was another reason Jade had left, perhaps one she herself didn't fully understand.
"I have to go," Riko said, "I think I need a moment alone."

Val nodded, "Okay, kid."

Leaving the cockpit, Riko slowly walked down the hall to the cargo bay, his active mind switching back and forth between mentally designing a power distribution upgrade for his lightsaber and Jade's absence.

Once inside the cargo bay, he sat down at the workbench. He laid his lightsabers out on the table: his mother's old weapon and his own. He had planned to examine the weapons, maybe conduct some routine maintenance, but instead he simply stared at them.

"Breet-deet-dreet?" Artoo solemnly tweedled from the doorway.

"Yeah," Riko said softly, "I miss her."

"Beep-deet-breet. Dwoo," Artoo's photoreceptor looked down towards the floor, the droid's body language a mirror of Riko's sadness.

"Do you really think of her that way, Artoo?" Riko replied, "As family?"

"Dreet-beet-deet," Artoo affirmed.

Riko wondered how Jade would have reacted upon hearing that. She didn't have the connections with droids he formed so easily, but she had warmed up to Niner in time. Perhaps the same would have eventually happened with Artoo.

Riko pondered her current whereabouts: if she was still on Coruscant, whether she was alone or had found company. He was sure that she could take care of herself, he just hoped that she found a place where she could rest, clear her head, and find peace.

A part of him felt like he could still feel her, through a link that reached out into the cosmos to tie them together. Wherever she was, he was certain that she could still feel him, too.

We'll find each other again, her parting words still echoed in his mind, more vivid and intimate than any word she had ever spoken aloud, When we're ready.

Riko thought of Jade and her anger, rage, and eventual guilt. He remembered his own brushes with the Dark Side: first as a child defending Jade, then during his duel with the possessed Jade on Dromund Kaas. He thought of Tarrin, a friendly boy lashing out with anger and rage. Tau Skywalker: so certain of his teachings to the point of fanaticism. The Jedi Shadows: so driven to maintain peace at any cost…

Riko wondered if this is what Kali'sto was trying to warn him about when he had described war. Beyond Rays and other loved ones who perished in the Empire's ascension, how many friends and comrades had Kali'sto lost to the same darkness that now plagued the Jedi of Riko's time? Was there more to his warnings than just the prospect of death or injury or killing?

Riko understood that there was another battle waged beyond those things, and it would likely be the most difficult one of all.