Chapter 17 - Sanctuary

The Beast's corridors felt longer than usual as Edric dragged himself from his quarters, each step heavy with exhaustion. His reflection in a passing viewport caught his eye—hollow-eyed, hair disheveled, looking more ghost than man. The Force had always had a cruel sense of humor, blessing Jedi with visions while denying them peace. No matter what he tried lately, sleep, meditation, anything; icy fingers stalked his mind with nightmares and gruesome visions, as if he were being hunted by a monster that refused to lose his scent, no matter what tricks he pulled to throw it off.

He was so kriffing tired of it. Just one night without nightmares, that's all he wished for. One day without a shattered legacy, a murderous former master, and supposedly all-powerful holocron. His hands balled into fists without him even realizing it, his nails pressing into his palms. He felt the tension simmering under his skin, a pressure building that he couldn't shake. It was like being trapped in his own mind, cornered by things he didn't know how to fight.

Calm the kriff down, he told himself sharply, forcing his fingers to unclench, taking a deep, grounding breath. The familiar warmth of the Beast's hallways was a small comfort as he walked, though he couldn't shake the chill of the dream lingering at the edges of his mind.

As he neared the cockpit, faint noises reached his ears. They were quiet, almost imperceptible, but it pulled him back into the present. Seemed like he wasn't the only one with only a few hours of sleep.

When he rounded the corner into the cockpit, Edric stopped short at the sight before him. Sid's right elbow was practically buried in an open console, tools scattered around him like fallen leaves, while Max hovered nearby with an expression caught between concern and pride. It was a scene Edric never thought he'd witness—Max letting anyone, let alone a teenager he'd just met, dig around in the Beast's guts.

"Well, well," Max drawled, eyeing Edric with that knowing look he'd perfected over their time together. "You look like you've been through a Sarlacc's digestive tract. You alright?"

Edric dropped into the co-pilot's chair, trying to ignore the way Max's gaze saw right through him. "Nothing I can't handle."

"Yeah, and I'm the Emperor's dancing girl," Max snorted. "You're about as good at lying as you are at sabacc, kid."

"Hey, I'm not bad at sabbac. What's all this?" Edric deflected, gesturing toward Sid, who had emerged from the console with grease streaked across his arm and an unsettling gleam in his eye.

"Oh, just saving your lives, no big deal," Sid chirped, wiping his hands on a rag that might have once been white. "Your reactor had more patches than a pod racer after a sandstorm. Another few days and—" he made an explosive gesture with his hands, complete with sound effects.

Edric shot Max a sharp look. "You knew about this?"

"Hey, don't look at me like that," Max protested, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I'm not a mechanic. Besides, the kid here's keen enough. Figured it was worth the risk of him poking around if it keeps us from becoming space debris."

"I asked to check the whole ship," Sid added, already diving back into the console, this time with his head to take a better look. His voice came out muffled but excited. "You wouldn't believe some of the jury-rigged systems I've found. It's like a museum of 'how-not-to-fix-things.'"

Edric winced at that, as he recalled doing some repairs himself here and there. He wasn't exactly great at it, but he thought he did alright all things considered. That wasn't the case, apparently.

"Watch it, kid," Max warned, though there was no real heat in his voice. "She might not be pretty, but she's got character."

"Is that what we're calling it now?" Edric muttered, earning a glare from Max that held more affection than anger.

The exchange felt almost normal, and for a moment, Edric could forget the shadows lurking at the edges of his mind. Almost.

A sharp beep from the navigation console cut through their banter. Before anyone could respond, the sound of boots on metal echoed from the corridor, and Edwin appeared in the doorway, his presence filling the small space. Despite the early hour, he looked as composed as ever, though Edric noticed the slight shadows under his eyes too. Their father's death had to leave its mark, even if Edwin refused to show any of it, Edric could sense his calmness being more like a mask this time around.

"Perfect timing," Max muttered, sliding into the pilot's seat. His fingers moved across the controls that looked like second nature. "Sid, how much longer are you going to be in there? We're about to drop into real space."

"Almost done," Sid called from inside the console. "Just need to—ow! Kriffing power coupling!" There was a spark, followed by a string of colorful curses in at least three different languages.

"Please tell me he didn't just break my ship," Max groaned, shooting Edric a worried glance.

"Got it!" Sid emerged triumphant, his face smeared with grease but wearing a proud grin. "Primary systems are stabilized, and I rerouted some of the auxiliary power to boost your shield strength. She might be old, but she's got some fight left in her."

"She better," a sleepy voice said from behind them. Lyra stood in the doorway, stifling a yawn. Her dark hair was slightly disheveled, and she had thrown on one of Max's old jackets over her clothes. The sight made Edric's heart skip a beat, though he quickly looked away before anyone could notice. "I'd rather not explode before breakfast."

Edwin moved aside to let her pass, taking up position near the viewport. His eyes were fixed on the swirling blue of hyperspace, his expression unreadable. The nav computer chimed again, more urgently this time.

"Alright people, strap in," Max announced, his tone shifting to all business. "Sid, that means you too. Stop fiddling with my ship and plant your backside in a seat."

Sid reluctantly sealed up the console panel and dropped into the chair behind Max, still wiping his hands on a rag that had seen better days. "You'll thank me later. I just doubled your sensor range and fixed that weird rattle in the sublight engines too."

"There wasn't a rattle," Max protested.

"Exactly," Sid beamed and winked at the bounty hunter. Edric let out a small chuckle and shook his head.

Lyra settled into the seat beside Edric, close enough that he could smell the faint scent of engine oil and something sweeter that he couldn't quite place. "So," she said quietly, "this is it. Your family home."

"I guess," Edric replied, his voice equally low. He glanced at Edwin, who met his eyes. They weren't judging this time, there was something else there now. Regret? Edric wasn't sure what it was, and suddenly he wanted to know his own brother more. Especially when stepping onto their family home, they should at least work on being actual siblings instead of silently avoiding their differences.

The mottled blue of hyperspace shattered like stained glass, revealing a tapestry of stars and the looming presence of Dantooine ahead. The planet hung in the void like a jewel, its surface a masterpiece of emerald plains and sapphire seas, wispy clouds painting delicate swirls across its face. Twin moons orbited in silent vigil, their pale forms casting gentle shadows across the world below. Sunlight caught the curve of the planet's horizon, setting the atmosphere aglow with a golden halo that took Edric's breath away.

"I haven't been back here for years," Edwin's voice was barely a whisper, but it carried a thousand untold stories. Edric turned to study his brother, searching for cracks in that carefully maintained composure. For once, Edwin's facade slipped—just slightly. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears, fixed on the planet as if afraid it might vanish if he looked away.

Through the Force, Edric felt something he'd never sensed from his brother before: a tremor of raw emotion, like a ripple in still water. It was gone almost instantly, buried beneath Edwin's usual calm, but it told Edric more about his brother than any words could have. For the first time, Edric saw not the stoic warrior who had burst into his life, but a man returning to the home he'd left behind, carrying wounds that had never fully healed.

The Beast sliced through Dantooine's atmosphere with unexpected grace, the usual chorus of creaks and shudders notably absent. Edric caught Sid's satisfied smirk in the reflection of the viewport—the young mechanic had clearly worked some kind of magic with the ship while he tried to sleep. Max's raised eyebrow said he'd noticed too, though his pride wouldn't let him admit it.

The cloud layer parted before them like a curtain, revealing Dantooine's pastoral expanse below. Rolling plains stretched endlessly toward the horizon, an ocean of grass rippling in waves of gold and green under the morning sun. Scattered farmsteads punctuated the landscape like islands, their modest buildings and fields creating a patchwork pattern across the wilderness. No cities marred the natural beauty, no towering spires or crowded settlements, just the occasional thin strand of smoke rising from distant homesteads.

Max banked the ship, following coordinates that seemed to lead them further from what passed for civilization on this world. The Beast's shadow raced across the tall grass below, startling herds of wild creatures that bounded away in graceful arcs.

"There," Edwin said, his voice making everyone lean forward. His finger traced a line toward a structure that had appeared on the horizon. Edric felt no spark of recognition, no sense of homecoming. Just another knot in his stomach as they drew closer to whatever secrets awaited them.

The Kane farmstead sat nestled against a gentle slope, a collection of structures that blended local architecture with clearly modified defenses. The main house was built from the same pale stone as the surrounding cliffs, its walls weathered by years of wind and rain. Solar collectors dotted the sloped roof, their surfaces dulled by dust. A barn-like structure stood nearby, large enough to house speeders or small ships, its doors hanging slightly askew on their tracks.

The grounds around the buildings had once been well-tended, but nature had begun to reclaim its territory. Tall grass pushed through cracks in the permacrete landing pad, and vines crept up the walls like curious fingers. A security fence encircled the property, its posts still standing but the energy field long since deactivated.

Max guided the Beast into its final approach, golden morning light flooding the cockpit as they descended. The landing struts compressed with a gentle hiss, crushing the wild vegetation that had claimed the old pad. As the engines powered down, a profound silence settled over them—the kind of quiet that only existed this far from civilization. The ship's systems clicked and whirred as they cycled off, like a great beast settling into slumber.

Edwin rose from his seat, his usual commanding presence softened by something more vulnerable. "If you don't mind," he said, his voice carrying an unexpected note of uncertainty, "I'd prefer if Edric and I did this part alone." He glanced at their companions, almost apologetic.

Max leaned back, crossing his arms with exaggerated indignation. "What, afraid we'll disturb the family ghosts?" But his eyes held understanding, and both Sid and Lyra nodded their assent.

Edric pushed himself up, his seat groaning in protest as if sharing Max's reluctance to let him go. He followed Edwin down the ramp, and the first breath of Dantooine's air stopped him in his tracks. It was unlike anything he'd experienced. Clean and sharp, carrying the complex bouquet of wet earth, wild flowers, and sun-warmed grass. After years of recycled ship air and the acrid atmosphere of city-planets, it felt like his lungs were truly expanding for the first time.

The landscape spread before him like a living painting. Tall grass swayed in endless waves, punctuated by splashes of color where wild flowers had taken root. Native creatures called to each other from their hidden places, their songs carried on a breeze that seemed to whisper ancient secrets. The sun continued its climb, burning away the morning mist and painting everything in shades of gold.

Then it hit him—a recognition so profound it made him dizzy. This place, this exact view... it was his sanctuary, the mental refuge he'd created. But he hadn't created it at all, had he? Somehow, his mind had remembered this, held onto this slice of home even when the rest of his memories had faded from his infancy. The tall grass dancing in the wind, the infinite horizon, the sense of peace that rose from the earth itself, it had been real all along.

"I know this place," he whispered, more to himself than Edwin. "I've been here every time I closed my eyes to meditate, but I never knew..." He trailed off, overwhelmed by the realization that his imagined sanctuary had been a memory all along, waiting for him to find his way back.

Edwin met Edric's gaze with quiet understanding, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. The wind whispered through the building's weather-worn gaps, a mournful song that welcomed them home. As they approached the entrance, Edwin stepped to one side with practiced grace, his fingers finding a specific pattern on the wall's weathered surface. At his touch, the aged stone shifted, revealing a keypad that looked far more sophisticated than the farmhouse's rustic exterior would suggest.

Edwin's fingers danced across the keys in a complex sequence, muscle memory guiding each press. Edric counted the sounds of locks disengaging—one, then another, then more, each mechanism's click echoing like heartbeats in the morning air. Finally, the door surrendered with a protesting groan of ancient servos, releasing a breath of stale air that carried years of abandonment.

Edwin gestured for Edric to enter first, a surprisingly gentle courtesy. Stepping inside felt like crossing a threshold in time. The air was laden thick with the musty perfume of decay—rotting wood, dried vegetation, and something deeper, more personal. It smelled like memories turned to dust.

The entrance opened into a modest foyer where a broken coat hanger clung stubbornly to the wall, its missing arm a testament to years of neglect. Beyond, the house revealed itself: a spiral staircase twisting upwards. A kitchen that might once have been the heart of family meals, its dining table still surrounded by four chairs, each one perhaps holding its own story of who once sat there. To the right, the living room spoke of quieter moments—worn couches arranged around a coffee table, their fabric faded by time and sunlight that had long since stopped streaming through the grimy windows.

What caught Edric's attention most were the bookshelves, their ancient wooden frames partially collapsed but still protecting their treasures, framing a fireplace in the center. Real books, bound in leather, their spines cracked and faded, yet somehow dignified in their decay. The scent of aged paper and worn leather cut through the musty air, sharp and somehow familiar. Holoframes dotted the walls like empty eyes, their displays dark and lifeless. Several lay shattered on the floor, like fallen memories too fragile to survive the weight of passing years.

Looking at it all, Edric couldn't help but wonder how many family moments these walls had witnessed, how many conversations had filled this space with life before time and abandonment had claimed it for their own. Or how it all looked when the sun shone brightly through the now boarded up windows.

"Look, Edric," Edwin's voice broke the heavy silence as he stepped further inside, the crunch of broken holoframes under his boots punctuating his words. He took a deep breath, as if gathering courage for what came next. "I know I've been hard on you, and that was... unfair."

Edric blinked, wondering if this was another vision, another trick of the Force. An apology from Edwin seemed about as likely as a Hutt winning a footrace.

"I... I had to become who I am," Edwin continued, his mask cracking slightly. He moved to one of the fallen holoframes, picking it up with unexpected gentleness. "Dad wasn't always like you knew him. After we lost Mother, after he gave you to the Jedi... something in him broke. It nearly consumed him. He was more like you than you might realize, having demons."

Edwin's fingers traced the frame's edge, his eyes distant. "I was fourteen when it got really bad. He'd spend days locked in meditation, trying to control it. But sometimes... sometimes the rage would take him. I'd once find him in the study, objects floating. It was a particularly bad episode, he..." Edwin's voice caught. "He almost killed one of our neighbors who'd come to check on us. If I hadn't been there..."

He set the frame down carefully, turning to face Edric. "That's when I realized I had to learn control. Not just for myself, but for him. For our family. I couldn't let the Dark Side win. Couldn't let it take anyone else from us. So, I figured out how I can get it all turned down."

For the first time, Edric saw his brother clearly—not as the cold, distant warrior, but as the boy who'd had to grow up too fast, who'd watched their father battle the same demons that now haunted Edric.

"When I see you struggling," Edwin said softly, "I see him. I see what could happen if... I couldn't bear to watch another member of our family dance at the precipice. That's why I push so hard. Maybe too hard, but that's how I was brought up too."

He brushed a finger along the edge of a nearby table, gathering dust. "Don't get me wrong, I loved dad. I really did. We had some good times that I'll cherish forever. But sometimes I wonder what could have been if not for the Jedi, the holocrons, all this banthashit."

Until now, Edric had thought Edwin's stoicism was natural, his control effortless. He resented his brother's apparent perfection, the ease with which he mastered his emotions. But now...

"I didn't know," Edric finally managed, his voice rough. "All this time, I thought..." He trailed off, running a hand through his curls in frustration. "I thought I was weak. That there was something wrong with me. The Jedi taught control, but it never came easily. And lately..."

He glanced at Edwin, really looking at his brother. The rigid posture, the carefully maintained calm, neither a sign of superiority, but a shield forged in pain. A defense against the same darkness that clawed at Edric's own heart possibly. He wasn't alone in this, he slowly understood.

"When Master Asher appeared on Daiyu," Edric continued, the words spilling out now, "when he killed Father... I felt it again. That pull. That rage. And I wanted to give in to it, so much. I wanted to..." He clenched his fists, the familiar heat rising in his chest.

"I know," Edwin said quietly. "I felt it too. But feeling it isn't what matters, little brother. It's what you choose to do with it."

The way Edwin said little brother this time didn't carry its usual edge. Instead, it was... different. Warmer. A term of affection, almost, something protective, like what it should have been all along.

"Can you..." Edric hesitated, swallowing his pride. "Can you teach me? How you learned to control it?"

Edwin studied him, his gaze sharp and unyielding, as if assessing his readiness. After a moment, he nodded. "Yes. But fair warning, Edric—this isn't something you pick up in one lesson. It's a practice. A commitment. You'll need to remind yourself of who you are, over and over, every time. The darkness may be a part of you, but you have to make sure it doesn't become all of you."

Edric nodded slowly. "I understand."

"We don't have much time, so we start now, with one lesson," Edwin replied, turning and gesturing with a flick of his wrist. Edric heard the whirring of servos as some hidden mechanism hummed to life. The bottom of the staircase slid open with a faint rumble, revealing a section leading down into the earth.

"Follow me," Edwin urged, his voice low but resolute.

They descended the stairs, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls. The air grew cooler, carrying the sharp scent of preserved metal and ancient artifacts. "Dad called it the study," Edwin explained, igniting his lightsaber to light their way. The green blade cast eerie shadows on the walls. "Though it's more of a museum and meditation chamber, really. A testament to what our family has guarded for generations. This house… it's built on a Force vergence. A place where the Force gathers naturally."

So that's what I've been feeling, Edric thought, And maybe why my sanctuary is binded here.

When they reached the bottom, Edwin waved his hand again. Ancient light fixtures flickered to life, one by one, casting a dim but steady glow across the room. As the space revealed itself, Edric felt his breath catch in his throat.

The chamber was circular, its walls lined with display cases and shelves. Each held objects that pulsed with the Force. Crystals of various colors, ancient texts bound in materials Edric didn't recognize, metallic, intricate devices whose purposes he could only guess at. In the center of the room, a clear space had been set aside for meditation, the floor inscribed with intricate patterns that seemed to shift when viewed from different angles.

"This… this is incredible," Edric whispered, his voice barely more than a breath.

"This is where Dad taught me," Edwin said, moving to the center of the room. "Where I learned that our emotions aren't enemies to be conquered, but currents to be channeled." He settled into a cross-legged position on one of the cushions laid out in the meditation circle. "The Force flows differently here. Can you feel it?"

Edric could. The energy in the room was unlike anything he'd experienced. He sat across from his brother, trying to ignore the way the artifacts almost whispered at the edges of his consciousness.

"The Jedi teach there is no emotion, only peace. They preach you have to let go of feelings, of attachments to keep balanced in the Light," Edwin continued, his voice taking on a teacher's cadence. "The Sith embrace passion, hatred, power. Two sides of the same coin. But our family... We've learned a different way. To control, then let go. Close your eyes. Focus on the currents of the Force around you—both Light and Dark. Don't fight them. Don't try to choose between them. Just... observe."

Edric closed his eyes, reaching out to the Living Force, feeling the familiar pull of the Dark Side that had haunted him, but also something else—a warm light that emanated from the very walls of the chamber. The two forces swirled around him like opposing winds.

"I can sense it," he said softly. "Both sides. But... how do you keep them from overwhelming you?"

"Think of it like a river," Edwin explained. "The darkness is not your enemy, just as the current isn't the enemy of a swimmer. Fighting against it exhausts you. Kills you. But if you understand its flow, learn to work with it rather than against it..." He paused, and Edric felt a subtle shift in the Force around them. "Let me show you. Give me your hands," Edwin said. Edric hesitated for a moment before extending them, and his brother's calloused, cold palms pressed against his own. "Now, don't resist what I'm about to show you. And don't be scared."

Suddenly, a surge through their connection—not the gentle calm he'd expected, but a controlled flood of emotions, the intensity growing with each breath. Anger, fear, grief, love, hope, all flowing together in carefully maintained channels. Was it how Edwin saw the Force? How he experienced it? Not by suppressing the fiery flames or embracing the cold light, but by accepting both as parts of a greater whole.

"This is... different from what Master Asher taught," Edric managed, his voice tight with concentration. It went against everything he learned as a Jedi.

"The Jedi way works for some," Edwin acknowledged. "But they almost want to refuse the Dark Side exists. It's paradoxical. You cannot overcome something you don't know anything about. For our family, for those who feel both sides so strongly, it's like trying to dam a river. Eventually, the pressure becomes too much." His grip tightened slightly. "That's what happened to Father after we lost Mother. He tried to suppress everything, and when it finally broke free..."

Through their connection, Edric caught a flash of memory—a younger Edwin watching their father lose control, objects flying around the same room, windows shattering upstairs. The raw power of it was terrifying, but what struck Edric most was the fear in his father's eyes. Not fear of the power itself, but fear of what it might make him do.

"Now," Edwin's voice drew him back to the present, "I want you to look inside yourself. Find that darkness you've been fighting. Don't try to push it away. Don't try to control it. Just... acknowledge it."

Edric took a deep breath.

"Are you sure?" he asked, surprised how childish his own voice sounded.

"Yes."

Edric turned his attention inward. The restless beast was there, as always, a flood fighting against a dam to wash everything away. But for the first time, he didn't try to fight it. Didn't try to bury it beneath Jedi teachings of simply letting go. He just... observed it.

"That's it," Edwin encouraged. "Now, find the light too. Your compassion, your desire to protect others, your hope. Let them exist together."

As Edric followed his brother's guidance, something shifted. The two forces that had always fought within him began to flow together, not mixing, but coexisting. Another branch appeared, and the two streams joined to form a mighty river.

"This is what balance should be," Edwin said softly. "Not the absence of emotion, but the acceptance of all aspects of yourself. You cannot have light without darkness, and darkness cannot exist without light. It's an eternal battle that neither can win. So why would you want to?"

For a moment, everything clicked into place. Edric felt a peace he'd never known before—not the rigid tranquility the Jedi taught, but something more complete, more natural. Then, just as quickly, it slipped away. His concentration broke, and the flood broke free from its dam, making him almost jump in the real world.

"I lost it," he said, frustration creeping into his voice. He opened his eyes to find Edwin watching him with unexpected patience.

"Of course you did," his brother said, a slight smile playing on his lips. "I didn't master this in one sitting either. It took me years, and I still struggle sometimes. The point isn't to achieve perfect balance and hold it forever. It's to understand that both sides are part of you, and neither one makes you weak."

Edwin stood, walking to one of the display cases. Inside, a crystal pulsed with alternating waves of light and shadow. "See this?" he said, gesturing Edric over. "One of our great-grandparents found it eons ago. It changes based on the observer's state of mind. Watch."

As Edric approached, the crystal's glow intensified, its colors shifting rapidly between red and white, mirroring his internal conflict.

"Your emotions are strong, like Father's were. Like mine are," Edwin explained. "The Jedi would see that as a flaw. But here..." He placed his hand on Edric's shoulder. It was once again as if a soothing balm spread through Edric's body, the heat in it extinguished, and the crystal's erratic pulses slowly steadied into a rhythmic flow between the colors. "Power isn't about choosing one side over the other. It's about finding harmony between them."

"Is that how you stayed so calm when Father died?" Edric asked quietly. "When my former master..." he trailed off, refusing to say Kael's name out loud. As if it made him appear.

Edwin's grip on his shoulder tightened slightly. "No," he admitted. "I wanted to tear him apart. Still do. But I recognize that desire for what it is—human. Acknowledging it gives me control over it, instead of letting it control me."

He turned to face Edric fully. "You have more strength than you know, little brother. You just need to stop seeing yourself as broken. The same passion that draws you to the Dark Side also drives you to protect others. The same fears that haunt you also make you empathize with those who suffer. None of it is weakness—unless you let it be."