Seated before a low table, Tera savored a traditional meal with his information broker, a well-respected Pantolan he had known for decades. Ataxia Valtari was kind enough to accept to receive him at this late hour, but she had somehow learned about the Chancellor's demise, and probably hoped he would have some pertinent intel to share.

Their communication was conducted in a peculiar, coded manner typical of the informant's world. Information was never given freely and served as the currency of their relationship—aside, of course, the financial aspect of the trade—, which paradoxically made their interactions refreshingly straightforward and honest. However, the true challenge was discerning what was left unsaid, and Araxia Valtari was a master at withholding vital details unless prompted with the right questions.

Like many of her people, Ataxia sported golden tattoos on her brow and her cheeks, highlighting her skin's natural blue tone. She was pouring him some tea in a delicate and translucid porcelain cup.

"So, about this Abner Ravenwood. You say this person specializes in antique dealing, and is probably working for a person named The Scholar?" Tera asked.

Tera was now experiencing the consequences of not asking the appropriate questions, realizing that a relatively prominent figure had been operating in certain circles for over a decade without his knowledge. Of course, he would have to inquire with other Shadows to see if they had heard of this individual, but it appeared that they did not operate in the circles that the Jedi usually monitored.

Their limited resources had been stretched thin in recent years, leaving them with the daunting task of overseeing an entire galaxy. As a result, they sometimes missed events that occurred right under their noses.

Ataxia hummed a confirmation. "Apparently, Ravenwood is known as a treasure hunter. He's running around masked, and the chance is high that it's a cover. He's surely part of a much larger organization. The Scholar dips their fingers in a wide variety of businesses."

"Isn't that person a kind of sponsor?"

"That's not this simple," she answered. "Sponsoring is probably their most obvious action, but believe me, I know when I'm dealing with cover and obfuscation, and this person probably has a very extended network. To what ends, I don't know precisely, but their influence is considerable, with an uncanny ability to place their pawns just in the right place at the right moment. So believe me when I tell you that this kind of person is always someone at least politically powerful or with the right kind of high-profile informants."

"That's the first time I heard of them," said Tera, flabbergasted. How they had flown under the Jedi's radar was a question a very much liked to be answered, but he would not say that aloud. He was sufficiently humbled by his utter lack of intel on the matter.

"They were probably meticulous in staying in the dark regarding the Jedi's informants network. I tell you, Tera, that is rather concerning that someone knows enough to not, probably purposefully, raise your flags." Ataxia smiled while blowing her teacup delicately. The steam swirled gently in the dim light provided by paper lanterns. "That fact is telling by itself," she added.

He nodded, lost in thoughts. Someone knew enough of how the Jedi operated to set up a full, influential organization that was basically invisible to them. That fact, combined with what happened to the Chancellor—and with who the Chancellor happened to really be—raised concerns about the Order's intelligence efficiency. Tera was sufficiently aged to know better regarding the capabilities of the Order, but it still remained rather vexing to be put in front of their shortcomings like that.

"It appears this person doesn't want the Order to look closely at his activities," he said, noncommittally. "They had financial backings? What kind of magnitude?"

"It's hard to say, The Scholar is careful, and they cover their tracks well. Of what my agents have gathered, they have ties in a large and diverse panel of businesses, spreading the core to the outer rim." Ataxia delicately put back her empty cup on its saucer. "Why are you interested about Ravenwood?"

Tera knew it was his turn to answer questions. "This man has apparently sold items to the Supreme Chancellor."

Ataxia smirked. "Ah. I heard. It changes things."

"What does it change?" Tera questioned, wary.

Ataxia took the time to eat a bit of fried nuna, before answering. "The cost of the information. Are you sure you have the means to pay this kind of tip? We deal in terrorism of the highest order here."

Tera spluttered. "Come on; you didn't know he was involved until now."

"These are hard times." Ataxia shook her head, tone regretful. "Who knows what'll happen now that the Chancellor is dead? Who will run the Republic? Instability is bad for my kind of business."

"Do you not think that you are exaggerating? The collapse of the Republic is unlikely. Palpatine is just one individual, and ultimately the senate governs and manages the affairs.."

"Oh, I always thought the senate was only for show." The Pantoran waved her hand in dismissal. "The Jedi Order gives a moral caution, though that has changed now you run a galactic army. Everyone with two brain cells knows perfectly that the Republic is a Republic in name only. The Chancellor had far too much power for that, and citizens aren't really consulted anymore. There is unrest. And I give you this tip because I like you, and I owe you one, but in the last few months, someone has spread derogatory rumors about the Jedi. The general population shifted toward a rather negative opinion of the Order, and I think your Council would be wise to address this matter."

"Okay, now, that's preoccupying. Shadows have already alerted about this fact, but we thought Separatists spread it, mainly in the outer and mid-rim. Surely a ploy of the Siths like Tyrannus or Grievous."

Ataxia shook her head in denial. "No, I know how those rumors are spread, and the source is far more central than that. I think it is on Coruscant, and using efficient and well-established channels."

Tera nodded, he would be wise to report those concerning facts to the Council without much delay, but he had much to learn still.

"So, this Scholar, what can you tell me about them? And what it'll cost me?" Tera could still make a petition to ask for more funds. He had few doubts, in regards to the current circumstances, that his demand would be easily granted. The lead was probably solid, and he felt the Force nudging him to pursue it.

]o[

Obi-Wan was experiencing unbearable pain, feeling as though he was on the brink of death. The colors in his field of vision were fading away, and the agony was intensifying throughout his body and mind. He had spent a long night fulfilling the demands of the Jedi Order, despite his exhaustion, wounds, and mental strain. As a result, he was paying a heavy price. Although he had managed to rest for a few hours, it was barely enough time to restore a fraction of his energy, which had already been depleted.

Thankfully, Master Windu had finally allowed them to rest after Obi-Wan had emphasized the importance of clear thinking for their overall effectiveness.

However, it wasn't quite the time to sleep. Obi-Wan needed to heal, and he was quite in a predicament. He had trouble using the Force, and felt he wouldn't have the leeway to take the time to reconstitute his health and reserve properly. The Order hadn't finished with him yet, and he had many loose ends to tie before it exploded in his face. He knew he had left many clues in his wake that would undoubtedly be exploited by the competent individuals in Mace's team.

He would have to find a way to heal faster, but his options were less than ideal.

First, to think efficiently, he would have to see about calming the raging tempest pounding in his skull. He needed to close his eyes for a few moments and assess the damage.

Right now, Obi-Wan urgently needed to gather his strength. He suffered not only from significant physical damage, but also psychic, which made his apprehension of the force elusive. He was probably suffering from the consequences of serious harm done to his Soul-Kyber, and maybe from a Sith curse. Sidious' death had produced a shockwave he had been unable to evade, and he couldn't see where the problem precisely lay before doing a thorough assessment. He was drawing on his reserves to cope, and he had to deal with his psychic injuries, quickly.

Obi-Wan had returned to his quarters with a sigh of relief. The room was in a state of disorder, with bloodied bandages strewn across the wooden floor. He hadn't had the time nor the presence of mind earlier to remove incriminating items. He took a minute to tidy perfunctorily the room, before slowly removing his upper garments. His wound looked maybe a little less frightening than earlier in the night. He replaced the old patches with new ones before settling down on his meditation mat.

He adopted a deep breathing rhythm, and focused on his sensations. The throb pulsated behind his eyes, and radiated throughout his torso. He knew pain well: it was an old enemy, always reliable, which could be used as an anchor to center himself in reality. Obi-Wan proceeded methodically to flatten the semblance of shields he had hastily erected to work with his fellow Jedi. Clumsy work, but enough to keep his emotions and pain from contaminating the Force around him. Sidious' various mental attacks had left a field of ruin in the mental walls he had taken so many years to build and consolidate. Obi-Wan stood amid a ruined mindscape: crystalline splinters lay everywhere. The twists and turns of his mental labyrinth were still in place, but badly damaged.

There was something wrong with the Soul-Kyber; he could feel it.

When he had chosen to meet Sidious' last attack head-on to complete his own, something had given in. He would need a proper deep meditation to check and hopefully restore whatever damage it had sustained.

But the focus required to do as such was currently impossible to attain. Everything that Obi-Wan needed absolutely to do, like, right now, would have to be put on hold until he could adequately restore his full abilities.

In the midst of the devastation, he spotted a long, sinuous writhing looking snake, half buried in the mound of shards and debris. A Sith mindcurse. Obi-Wan mentally gritted his teeth. The spell had had the time to sink into his psyche intimately, and tackling it without care would cause the harm he knew he couldn't take in his weakened state. He had to act as soon as possible and find help. He knew what this kind of psychic attack could cause in the long run.

He felt despair trickle into his emotional well. Everything seemed to stack up against him, and he was currently in a position where he couldn't continue alone. He would need someone to heal him while he took care of terminating the worm.

He knew who to solicit, but that would put him in an even more precarious position within the order. Obi-Wan was beyond caring at this point, and his survival mattered more than maintaining his secret identity.

He sat up, staggered, and headed for his comm.

]o[

Anakin's friends repeatedly told him that he was a troll. Not like Yoda, though. But a troll nonetheless. It was true he tended to take some matters at heart, and the defense of the Jedi Order's reputation was one of them. He was maybe a little bit addicted to social media, and liked to spend his time lurking in the holonet shadow to pursue and slay verbally those that spread unjust and uninformed opinions about the Jedi.

Anakin loved his family, and no one had the right to slander those he loved.

His master didn't know about his hobby and, knowing him, would glower at him and find a cruel way to punish him for not putting his emotional rollercoaster at a distance.

Anakin quite liked his emotional rides, thank you very much.

He wasn't the paragon of the Jedi image, detached and serene, and maybe that was why he hadn't been knighted yet. His master being the Head of the High Council was the reason he hadn't been sent away much in his Padawan's career, but he was quite content with this arrangement. He liked being here, with his friends and fellow knights, tinkering his droids and running pod races in secret.

He didn't care much for the war, but was quite sad to see friends and comrades frequently sent away. And bored, too.

So, social media.

Maybe he could vent some of his pent-up energy with sparring, though, but he would have to find someone to give him some challenge. His master wasn't very available these days, and the battle master was often occupied with teaching classes. Ankin went to give a hand sometimes, but drilling katas to young initiates tended to bore him to death.

Maybe he could call Obi-Wan and vent to him, the man always had the patience to listen to him rant about nothing and everything. Maybe they could go at Dex' and enjoy some awfully nutritious food.

Anakin checked his clock. Maybe it was a little early for that. He would wait an hour or two before looking for his favorite archivist.

]o[

Quinlan was studying the sculpture intently. Its intricate patterns depicted a female figure holding a sword in her left hand and a weighing scale in her right, with her eyes hidden behind a blindfold. The carving suggested the blurred edges characteristic of a lightsaber's plasma beam, and her attire resembled that of a Jedi. It seemed that the sculptor had once viewed the Jedi as the embodiment of Justice: just and fair, blind to ideology, and immune to corruption.

But times had changed. The Jedi had become more like enforcers of the Senate and Republic's interests, rather than the guardians of Justice.

As a Shadow, he had gained a unique perspective on the Jedi's position and role in the galaxy. His various covers often required him to embrace a diverse range of values and ideologies, allowing him to develop a keen insight into the thoughts and motivations of others.

He understood that the Jedi's way of life was not easily comprehensible to the majority of beings. They were often viewed as enforcers for the privileged, rather than protectors of the downtrodden. The outbreak of war had only reinforced this perception, as the Jedi were increasingly seen as a military force and, as such, compelled to surrender their autonomy to the government. In truth, this was indeed the case.

Anyway, now wasn't the time to ruminate over the Jedi Order's existential crisis. Despite feeling exhausted, Quinlan pushed himself to continue examining the object of his focus. He found the progress he had made on the case to be satisfying, and he had some really interesting facts to share with the Council during their upcoming meeting.

He would finish examining the most prominent object of his nightly selection before reporting back to the Temple.

Unlike the Chancellor's belongings, the sculpture didn't give off a sense of darkness. It seemed as though it had only recently been placed in the office and had not yet absorbed any of the negative energy that surrounded Palpatine's possessions.

Quinlan's interest was piqued because the sculpture was not as it appeared at first glance. Upon closer inspection, he noticed a nearly invisible seam and ran his finger along it. His intuition told him that it was important, and he was right. With a careful application of force, a hidden mechanism was triggered, and a tiny drawer opened to reveal an electronic device. Although he wasn't as technologically savvy as some of his colleagues, Quinlan was able to identify the device as a miniaturized recording device. The system had been flawlessly integrated, and it was only thanks to his psychometry that he had examined the statue more closely.

Quinlan knew that he needed to check whether the recording device was active and transmitting. Thankfully, he was sharing the room with men specialized in that kind of work. The men, led by Colorblind, were currently analyzing every footage available surrounding the assassination. Il was a slow and fastidious process, but the clones had a way with banter that kept the boredom at bay, and filled the soundscape rather pleasantly.

"Hey guys, I think I need a hand."

]o[

At the tender age of twelve, Obi-Wan set out on a journey to Ilum with a singular purpose - to acquire his very first Kyber crystal. However, little did he know that this would prove to be a momentous occasion, marking the end of his old life and the commencement of a new one.

The Kyber that powered the lightsaber was like the heart and soul of the Jedi. The crystal resonated with the individual; through meditation, it became one with its wearer's intentions and desires.

Obi-Wan's crystal, however, was different.

It had been infused, and served as a spiritual bridge to a much older version of Obi-Wan. This version called himself Old Ben. Old Ben was wise, knowledgeable, and kind. He was also bitter and miserable as sin.

Old Ben explained to young Obi-Wan that the Kyber would be used to imprint knowledge and memory on his young brain. It would be painful, but the entire galaxy's fate hung in the balance. He would also have to give up his most cherished wish, to become a Jedi Knight.

Old Ben knew things, but he couldn't decide what to do. Old Ben had no plan.

Old Ben said it was Obi-Wan's job to make decisions, but first, he would have to grow, learn, and, above all, remain discreet and invisible.

Terrible beings were lurking in the dark, waiting and plotting for the end of the galaxy.

To fight against them, Obi-Wan also would need to embrace elusiveness.

The Kyber, heavy and potent with the soul it was carrying, damaged the brain of young Obi-Wan. This was the price to pay.

Obi-Wan developed a syndrome akin to epilepsy, with episodes of blackouts and convulsions. The healers never knew what caused the ailment, and Obi-Wan was careful not to tell them about the Kyber. He knew that this was the price he had to pay, and that he could not turn back.

Master Jinn, the Jedi who had chosen him as a Padawan, was confused and saddened by the situation. Obi-Wan gave up his apprenticeship under his tutelage, citing his medical instability, and Qui-Gon let him go. Obi-Wan was heartbroken, but he began to integrate the memories of old Ben into his own memory matrix, and he cherished the echoes of a relationship that could have existed for him.

Obi-Wan spent many years meditating with the Kyber to integrate Old Ben's memory impressions into his neurons. The transfer was not perfect, for even though they were the same person, Old Ben had lived through, and therefore stored, nearly two centuries of memories.

This had put his nervous system under extreme strain, and sometimes competing signals tried to override each other. The epilepsy was not massive, but it was troublesome, sometimes disabling, as the seizures came on without warning, but were often triggered by reminiscences of Old Ben's life.

With the Jedi Healers' help, Obi-Wan developed a headband that kept most of his neural activity below a certain threshold to avoid excessive excitability. Obi-Wan had to avoid stressful situations, and violent physical activity, until the device was perfectly adjusted to his needs. His headband resonated with the lattice of his Soul-Kyber, as he had dubbed it in his mind. This helped him maintain his neural stability, and made the seizures much rarer and much more manageable.

He just had to make sure the Kyber was always on him, and he had taken to wearing it as a necklace to keep it against his skin at all times. He couldn't use it as part of his saber, as the weapon tended to get lost too often. Obi-Wan had to get another crystal to power his saber. His Soul-Kyber had to be protected over everything else, and was more precious than a vital organ.

Obi-Wan knew that his brain had to mature and take the time to match his neural pathways into their desired form and lattice. To do this, he had to keep the Kyber with him, as close to his head as possible, and meditate as often as possible.

Most of the time, when Obi-Wan had not meditated adequately, he felt disjointed, a sense of disassociation that was growing stronger with time. He could almost converse with Old Ben, their two identities no longer merging sufficiently to help him maintain a coherent and whole sense of identity.

When he dove into meditation, he spent much of the session amending the crevices and fissures in his psyche, keeping it relatively smooth and unmarred with cracks.

It was a lot of work, and sometimes Obi-Wan felt he would never reach a state where he could do without this mandatory maintenance.

His mental landscape was peculiar, given how much time he spent there. He had come to visualize a kind of crystal palace, which resonated well with the part of his identity stored in the Kyber. He pictured the memories as so many mirrors and panels, which, accumulated, had created a labyrinth of which he was intimately aware.

In meditation, Obi-Wan took the time to adjust the walls and doors, straightening and adjusting to restore coherence. With time, the exercise became easier and easier, for as he grew older, the junction between his organic and crystallized memory became more intricate and blurred.

He had chosen the ExplorCorps, the archaeological research unit, because it allowed him to spend long periods of time away from the Coruscant Temple, and gave him the legitimacy to explore the many archaeological sites from which he knew he could get weapons and resources.

Obi-Wan had demonstrated a talent for analyzing and exploring the many temples hidden throughout the galaxy, especially for Sith artifacts. He was quickly identified as a specialist in defusing the many booby traps that never failed to mark the tombs and shrines of dark force users.

This had also been Old Ben's speciality, during the decades he had spent in hiding and searching for ways to compete on equal terms with the devastating power of Sidious and his dogs.

However, the means to fight back had not really been provided by these mysterious temples, but by the Guardians of the Whills, and the cult they maintained around the Kyber.

At a point in his long life, Old Ben had immersed himself in the study of Kyber and its nature, and quickly realized the vast possibilities of this crystal that resonated in the Force.

Kyber acted like a crucible, like a node in which the Force pooled and concentrated. They acted as a reserve of power, which was how these crystals could energize lightsabers.

However, the Force was not simply power. It could carry information, and intent that could cross space and time.

Old Ben immediately saw the infinite possibilities of this. If the Kyber could instantly convey information through space, it meant that this information could also be transmitted through time.

For many years, Old Ben buried himself in the study of Kyber and its applications. He designed devices that could anchor Force actions that could be delayed in time. With a peculiar meditation centered around a fragment of Kyber, Old Ben stored complex spells that could be suddenly deployed instantly and without effort. He called that particular technique a Force infusion.

Old Ben had picked up many shards in his travels, that many would have considered unusable, or at the very least, could be at most used as a rosary like the guardians of the Whills did on Jedha: a way to connect more easily to the Force, as the kyber, even if impure, fractured or shattered, could act as a focus.

Feeding Kyber shards with power, which could be released with a simple mental nudge, was a tremendously powerful technique. Old Ben used the small shards as explosives. He had to recharge the shards regularly, usually during his daily meditations, to keep them filled with a high concentration of the Force.

One day, Old Ben had the idea of infusing his first Kyber with all that was himself, and nudging the Infusion toward the past. After spending a few months on Naboo to retrieve his first Kyber lost the fateful day Qui-Gon died, Old Ben spent nearly a full decade in this endeavor.

And he had succeeded.

But the more complex the intent, the better the quality of the crystal had to be.

And a brittle and fractured Soul-Kyber was no good news.

]o[

"Master Windu."

"Yes, Master Vos?"

"We found a recording…I think you should come to see this."

"I'll be by shortly, give me ten minutes."