Good day all,

I hope this chapter finds you well. It has been a wild week between my jobs, and in the time where I couldn't sleep I decided to complete this chapter. We're nearing the truest form of chaos and I am hoping that I will be able to do it justice. If you believe that the burning is over… well, you shall soon see, my friends.

I hope you enjoy.

Happy Writing,

Eliana

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Even the strongest tree will die if left in the dark, Yoda had told him in the months after he had been accepted by Tombur. He found that that was the best way to describe the yoke that he, his master, and his master's master had been tied to in hindsight. They were like the old trees that surrounded him, the ones that had lived for hundreds of years and that seemed so unshakeable – their roots crashed through darkened soil to bring order to an otherwise chaotic galaxy.

They had always done their jobs and done them well. But in the most recent of times, as he had admitted to his grandmaster before his passing, Djibourdi had caught glimpses of the worlds outside of the ones they had existed in and had begun to question things that were probably better left unspoken.

Why not them?

Had they not earned the privilege to simply exist within the Temple with their fellow Jedi or have their biggest concern to be what tea they would drink that night?

Warren had told him that those ghosts that tormented him were like the ripples in the water that terrified him to his core. If he could find a way to calm his frustrations the way would become clear, and he would find that he could learn the names of his ghosts. Talk with them. Learn why they were there. Send them on their way. His grandmaster had put himself in the position to see him through that terror and spent more than his fair share of time guiding his steps.

Today wasn't far removed from the time that he normally would have backpedaled at the edge of the rumbling water.

In this moment his mind hardly registered it as he and his guides crossed the same boulders he had been guided across hours earlier, the water had receded enough for his boots to grip the stones where they peaked out from the flowing river. Just on the other side of this minor bridge, only lightly cascaded in the gaze of the moons, was that tree that had watched over him in the passing of his friend. It held him in the dark of its shadow.

Whether he intended to or not, Djibourdi stopped following his guides. Instead, he found himself drawn like a moth to fire to kneel at the soft river stones, still lightly tinged in red, that rested at the base of that old tree. The petals he had sent over the falls covered it well enough, but he knew it was there.

The blood hadn't all washed away. Life blood. Tombur's blood. The blood on his own hands.

Shaking red fingers gathered one of those soaked stones, bringing it to his line of sight so that he could study it… and then, as the emotion snapped at him, it was clenched in a closed fist as he slammed his eyes shut against the rage that filled his mind.

These Outsiders, these dark ones that he and his master had trailed through the outer rim and cut down in their shows of 'dedication', had now crossed a line that he would not forgive.

They slaughtered his people. Their hands were stained with the blood of innocents and children. They were an invasive species that were ravaging and destroying EVERYTHING that they touched. As if their presence here wasn't enough, in the ultimate insult they had used his own people's weapons against him. And then, in a show of moxy and bravado, they had drawn his attention astray enough that he left his master unprotected.

He had left Warren unprotected, then his mind was too preoccupied to see that Tombur was unprotected, and now they were both…

His fist clenched tighter. The stone dug into his palm. His teeth were showing. The feral part of his nature wanted their blood to feed the soil beneath him. He had forgiven their trespasses as passing insults, but now their message was clear. His would be as well. They had chosen to mock his and Tombur's understanding, so now had his attention.

THUMP

The unexpected sound pulled him from his simpering rage, and his eyes met the rabbit who had come back to him and had halted directly in front of his face. It stood tall on its back legs, propping its front paws on his clenched fist as it leaned right up to his nose. Djibourdi couldn't help but feel the anger ebb when it softly licked him.

It leaned back to sit fully on the ground again. When Djibourdi didn't move, it pressed its ears back and thumped again. He felt his face contort in confusion.

Again, the rabbit leaned up to put its front paws on his fist before it sat back down, ears pricked right at him. The grief returned when he deciphered what it was trying to say.

'Don't. Don't do that to yourself, Red.'

Djibourdi only shook his head, trying as hard as he could to swallow the hurricane of emotion (grief, anger, rage, loss, vengeance, hate, fear all rolled into one) that forced his chin to twitch. He wasn't strong enough.

'Let me go.'

The searing pain in his arm was nothing compared to the writhing of his soul. He wasn't ready for this.

"No."

The rabbit's ears fell back softly this time, and once more it raised itself to press its paws to his fist before it sat still in front of him. Oh Force, he couldn't do this.

'It's okay. Let me go.'

Barely, just barely, Djibourdi got a tenuous grasp on the Force and he sank as far into it as he could, feeling it pour into him just as the river rolled over the stones behind him. His eyes closed against the feeling. It was a war within himself that he had to fight, and Warren's words from one of their many meditations whispered in his mind.

'You can find balance through pain, Djibourdi, but only if you have the will to endure it.'

He didn't have enough fight left to care… or, at least, that's what he told himself even as the darkness was chased out by light, and the stone tumbled from his loosened hand to land with a hollow clatter back where it had been plucked from. Even in this madness, there was peace.

The grief that had strangled him was now a quiet whisper in the back of his mind. Breath filled his crackling lungs, and with a small cough, he opened his eyes and found his feet. Whatever shattered ground that had lined his mind was turned to reinforced stone – so he walked on, past that tree and its wise gaze, following his guides a few steps further toward where the cliffs met in a crevice.

The rabbit and the stag stopped then, turning to look to him, then back to the passage between the ridges, then back to him. He understood. A thankful bow was returned as well as the animals could, and then he made his way, tenuously picking his way through the stones and soft grass to what lay beyond. He didn't look back.

The narrow path was dark, blackened by its refusal to permit the light through. He pushed through it, passing over the mossy covered stone toward the white light on the other side of the pass.

What met his eyes was something holy he was sure, although he was unsure how long it had been there. This fertile cliff edge, lined in grasses and ca'ula flowers and sheltered by the ancient trees, danced and glowed and sang in the soft caress of the six moons.

The flowers only blossomed at night, their petals refracting the bounced light of the moons to glow a soothing golden color. They were all over this ridge, all the way up and around a hollow point in the center. On the valley of the mountains ahead of his vantage point was the parade of lights marking the exodus of his people… the exodus of life.

That's what was odd, the padawan told himself as he cautiously stepped closer. He paused himself for a moment of reflection, painfully pulling his boots and socks from his feet before he crept closer to the center. Around him was the clashing contrast that teased his mind.

The trees rooted here alternated: one living, one dead, one living, one dead all around him, and the space at the center of this field was a circle out flowers and grass was perfectly round…and dead.

That's where he stopped, standing amidst the circle of alternating life and death, watching the march of lights through the black mountains and the stars fighting to shine through the debris in the sky. With a painful inhale and a small wheezing cough, he settled himself in a lotus position on that dead grass, letting himself fall straight into the Living Force and allowing it to whisk him away.

It had been waiting for him.

The change in energy around him had Djibourdi opening his eyes and meeting all of those that looked at him where they stood around him in front of the alternating trees. Three females, five males; all Togruta, all distinctly familiar to him looked to him with gazes that spoke of familiarity and an odd mercy. They knew who he was and he was welcomed in this space.

Djibourdi's attention was stolen to the one who stood in front of him next. The feeling of something shockingly regal had him struggling to look up and meet her face, his own awareness reminding him just how completely unworthy he felt being here in front of her.

The slight breeze tossed the fur hair dress on her head and carried her scent to him, her dark orange skin making her birthmarks stand out shockingly on her face. He knew exactly who she was, and she knew exactly who he was.

Her two wise eyes, one gold and one blue, looked right through him and all at once he couldn't help but wonder that….perhaps… she had chosen the wrong messenger. He wasn't worthy of this, even if it was damnation. For his failures, he deserved less.

His body communicated that feeling when he almost crumpled in on himself, his face falling from where he looked at her down to stare at the ground and his shoulders raised to his neck. He almost leapt out of his skin when her hand danced in front of his face, shocking him into looking back up to her. With a blink she turned and gestured with one hand behind them to the mountain.

It was a choice he had to make. His own self-doubt could stop him from acting, and if that was what he chose, the path was clear.

The future of their planet, their home, was laid out for him in front of his eyes as the world warped to a smoking orange. Where there were trees there were now snags, where the lights marched in the distance was filled with skeletons, where the sky had been filled with stars it was now smeared with smoke.

It was strangling. Nightmarish. Terrifying.

There was no balance between life and death in this reality. Life simply…was not. The Force here simply…was not.

In a snap that smoke-ridden world in front of him was gone and replaced with current reality. The woman in front of him reached down and gestured next to his arms that rested in his lap, pulling his attention to them.

One, carefully wrapped in long gauze that had been delicately cared for, throbbed painfully and reminded him that he had paid a price to be here. The blood shed in penance to the river, the blood that mixed with the water that was the lifeblood of their world, hadn't been enough to save the life of his brother. The other arm, long healed and scarred over, didn't cause him physical pain anymore – but the stab of memory hurt more.

Perhaps that's what she was telling him, he pondered. What was it that his master had said when they had first found Kailem here?

'Ask yourself the most basic questions then, Djibourdi. Why is he here? Why do all of this? What does he hope to accomplish?'

He couldn't answer those questions yet, but he was willing to think about it, following the links of the scars on his right arm as they ranged up. The pieces were all tossed loosely on a board, waiting to be linked together. He mulled over the things that he knew, tracing the lines of old wounds as he did so.

Kailem had aimed to kill him three years ago by drowning him in the lake of the valley. He ended up drowning himself later in custody, obviously falsely, then somehow freed himself.

The Muun Ahsoka had encountered when she arrived here had told her she would never 'get another chance'.

Kailem reappeared with them here seemingly by accident, simply ranging too close to himself and Ahsoka when they were alone in the woods with Kachina. He couldn't know for sure if it was hubris or naivety that had gotten the human caught.

The Outsiders were engaged in what they believed to be holy war, driven by an order to seek out and slay the ones they believed were evil. They had never been seen in such force before. It was almost as if they were drawn here.

Aarent, his and Ahsoka's lifesaver, had been present in his vision that he shared with his sister but was shrouded in shadow. He had been calling to her since he and Tombur found the village destroyed by the Outsiders.

Somehow, their enemies had not only found their camp again but had managed to coordinate against two Jedi knights at the perfect time… but they hadn't been close enough to surveil the camp.

If death was the purpose of all of those who trespassed here, why had they let Ashoka, Kachina, and himself live when they left the hospital? It would have been all too easy, all too simple to kill them all and end the fight before it had even begun. If it was only slaughter they were after, strategically it made no sense to let Jedi walk free.

Kailem Zimerek was conniving and determined, but he was no master. He was a simple-minded fool who followed paths that were dug by others that he could sneak through while hidden from the light. If that was true, then certainly there had to be a path that led all these events here. Kailem had never done anything without purpose, but he had also never gone out of his way for anything.

The scars on his arms, Djibourdi reminded himself as he studied them, were all different ages. Each was more serious than the last, but his old master had never given him a reason as to why he chose to inflict that pain on his padawan, or why he chose to attack more viciously each time. Each time there had been an escalation in the torment… there was an escalation each time he sensed Kailem or the Outsiders here. The pain they caused…

'You can find balance through the pain, Djibourdi, but only if you have the will to endure it.'

Kailem had always threatened that he had to end his padawan's life, or no one ever would. That kind of psychotic rambling had always preceded a new scar that was sworn to silence, and each scar in its infancy had caused Djibourdi less anguish than those words. Kailem had always threatened, but only wounded... and after each wound, he would watch the Togruta before dropping it entirely until the next episode.

He had only wounded.

He escalated each time. Every scar was a challenge to will.

He would watch his padawan until the silence had him skulking away.

They had been challenges to his will.

The will to endure.

The house of cards came crashing down.

THAT was the moment he understood.

Gaping like a fish out of water Djibourdi looked up to the face of his ancestor then whipped around to face the rest. All of them relayed the same message. Golden eyes tore to the scars on his arms, then ripped to the lights wrapping around the foot of the mountain in the distance, then to the sky as yet another explosion marked the end of life… and then, finally, around to look in the direction of where he had come from. The camp.

No… he could not allow that.

How could that be? What little was this punishment if it meant stopping that from coming to pass?

Nature itself could not be changed, but change was exactly its nature. He didn't want this path, nor this idea, nor what was to come… but if a life was to be forfeit, he would be content if it was the one that mattered the least.

A small rumbling cough itched his chest.

His torn arm shot pain straight up his shoulder.

Djibourdi found his breath, turning himself and meeting his ancestor's gaze with the sharpened focus that he had thought long gone. He struggled with his breath, with his strength, but still managed to stagger to his feet to stand an arm's length from her and stood himself straight. He was a few inches shorter than her, but it didn't seem to matter.

"Zur simmel, ma'dra Anari," he spoke to her.

She slightly bowed her head with a pained look. To his kin, the eight who drew close with warmth and light, he promised a simple vow.

"Foerl Shili."

He bowed to them, all nine meeting him in that honor before their hands all met his head and shoulders. The Living Force thrummed and pulsated around them, the light of the ca'ula flowers brightening before they trailed to the padawan that the spirits tied themselves to.

When the seal was finished Djibourdi opened his eyes to find the flowers all closed.

The slight breeze shook the trees and tossed the grass. Now he stood alone in the circle of dead grass, mind torn to the slow trickle of life down the foot of the mountain and the moons above that slowly pulled themselves into place. A rotation and a few spare hours were what he had left to feel this way. What he had vowed could not be undone.

What is, is what must be.

That was perhaps the reason why, when Ahsoka woke from her small nap, she was met with a bag of things that made no sense to her. Her name had been written in beautifully practiced Togruti with a simple message: '0900 hours, frequency of our place. Tell no one.'

She found Eddy, his eyes worn and bloodshot, sitting on the edge of the medical transport that was being loaded by what remained of the clones.

Every one of the Chargers was gone. Djibourdi, and his armor and weapons, were gone. Djibourdi's fur head dress, something he had held dear, lay among the items left in the bag for Ahsoka.

Tombur's body had been carefully cleaned and his hair brushed, white flowers attentively braided into it, his broadsword laid across his chest beneath his hands. He was going to be put to rest in his robes - his armor sat, forgotten, in his quarters save the missing piece of shiny durasteel that one wound its way around his left arm. The heartstone that had once found its place on the knight's wrist was now on Eddy's, the command gauntlet that had never left Tombur's gaze was gone into the wind with his clones and padawan.

One single holodisk was held close to the doctor's chest, more than likely the cause of the emotion that had reddened his eyes, and the compassionate side of Ahsoka drew her to him through her own pain.

"You have to go after him," Eddy almost begged her, watching the padawan crouch next to him in the dark. She found it hard to meet his eyes.

"Even if I could, we don't know where the legions are. If we don't help our kin, a lot more people are going to die," she explained gently then, thoughtfully, she reached out to lightly grasp his wrist and turn it over. The heartstone was calm beneath her fingers, "Djibourdi made a choice… you and I both know that we would be swimming up-river to attempt to change it."

A congested snort of breath made her smile, at least satisfied that she had lessened the pain for now.

"Now we both…" she trailed off. She couldn't believe she was going to say it, "Now we both have to find a way to live with that. He's going to try and move mountains for our people, and we have to do the same. We can't lose a thousand lives just to save one."

She was content to leave him when Tocarra finally made her way to them, heading to the space of their last task before they left this place. Rex had been quiet about whatever it was that Djibourdi had spoken to him when he had lined his men at the gate to leave.

Whatever it was influenced her friend deeply she noted as she watched him and Hardcase move the next crate of soil out of the hole they were working on. This was indeed solemn work, but there was still an air that hung around them all far denser than she would have ever tied to it.

Anakin strode to stand next to her.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, master," she told him, almost surprised when he turned her to look at him.

"It's okay if this is too much, Snips."

"He was a friend, master," she told him, swallowing a tiny bit to steady herself, "I want to honor him."

He gave her an understanding nod, turning to watch his clones in their task. Secretly Anakin had to admit that he was almost relieved that Djibourdi had moved his men quiet enough that the knight hadn't caught on until they were gone. He had made a promise to his friend, but it was one that he wasn't entirely sure that he would have been able to keep.

The other part of him, the part that cared more for the safety and health of the wounded padawan that had left so suddenly, wanted to change his plans and send the entire crew after him. There had to be a way to track him, but curse him, Djibourdi had now put him in a position to determine what the greater good was. And the truth, as hard as it was to swallow, was that the teenager wasn't it.

Still, he knew what frustration Ahsoka was juggling with… he couldn't say that he wouldn't feel the same. He hesitated before he spoke again.

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you earlier," Anakin admitted to her, "Tom asked me not to interfere."

"You don't owe me an explanation, master," his padawan answered almost too quickly, drawing his eyes, "I had just hoped that…"

She went quiet, her lips pursing in silence.

"Everyone meets the Force in their own way, Ahsoka. Grief is –"

"Not of the Jedi."

"…mortal. Grief is mortal, Snips. You have to feel it to acknowledge it and send it on its way – emotion alone cannot hurt anyone. It's when we get stuck there that we find imbalance."

Ahsoka turned to look at him with a astonished look, gesturing around them.

"This doesn't seem like imbalance to you?"

He thought for a long moment, then shook his head.

"No. This isn't rash or desperate… it's planned. Coordinated. Intelligent. Have some faith in your friend, Ahsoka."

Her thoughts drifted to the bag she had hidden on one of the transports, thinking over the items that were contained there. She wanted to tell her master about it, show him the things that her friend had left behind so that he could shed some clarity on them for her, but maybe he had a point. She was irked to admit that. Djibourdi's note had asked her to tell no one. She would trust him enough for that.

Hardcase's voice called over to them as he and Rex emerged from the grave they had dug underneath the white flowered tree. They were finished. Once more, Anakin asked his padawan:

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, master."

Two standard hours later, under the guiding light of the stars and moon, the train of five improvised hoverbikes, one medical transport, three hovercarts, and a rigged cab started on their journey down the mountain and toward the river of lights. They left behind the now quiet camp that had been their home for the last week, the only feeling of sanctuary that they had buried behind the wall.

The reality of what lay before them had the Force screaming, the light of life pursued by the darkness of death as they both ate up the ground.

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I hope you all enjoyed it… this was a dark chapter, one that is full of critical information. The events that come next will challenge perception and awareness. To the future.

Happy, Writing,

Eliana