Chapter 23 - Fears

The Beast travelled through hyperspace, her familiar vibrations barely noticeable after two years of calling her home. Edric palmed open the door to his quarters, the soft hiss of hydraulics announcing his entrance into a space that felt both familiar and suddenly strange. Dust had settled over his collection of oddities—trinkets from bounties with Max mixed with remnants of his life as a Jedi, each item telling its own story of who he had been and who he was becoming.

The moment they had broken Dantooine's atmosphere he could feel his veins filling up with ice. It wasn't just the cold, unforgiving space beyond the bulkhead of their vessel, but something he thought he had finally had a more proper grasp on. A voice began to whisper in his mind again, asking him what if he made a mistake, what if it was all a trap and he would be leading his friends, his family to a battle they could never win. Not dissimilar to how the Republic sent them to Tarnos near the end of the Clone Wars.

He was terrified to let them down. All of these pressed down on his shoulders like an impossible weight. The holocron, Kael, the fate of the kriffing galaxy itself. Yet somehow, that burden felt right. Not because he was a Jedi—he was something much different by now—but because he had found something worth fighting for.

His eyes found the holocron Kael had made for him, tucked away in a corner of his workbench. He hadn't touched it since that night in his master's quarters, when everything had started to unravel. Jedi teachings about attachment echoed in his mind—teachings he had tried to leave behind, yet still rang true. He loved everyone aboard the Beast, but love could be as dangerous as hate if it clouded judgment. The hardest truth was knowing that if the moment came, he would have to be willing to let them go, to put duty before them. Just as the Jedi had taught, though perhaps for different reasons now.

But I'm not a Jedi, his own voice echoed in his mind.

He cleared a space on the floor, shoving aside datapads and discarded tunics. The metal deck was cool against his legs as he settled into a cross-legged position, his spine straightening with a satisfying pop as his hands rested on his knees. His breathing slowed, measured and deliberate. In for four counts, hold, then release. He closed his eyes, and reached out to the Force. It responded to his call, wrapping around him like a mother's embrace.

He could sense the others aboard in their own spaces. Edwin's presence burned like a contained fire, his brother's determination tinged with an edge of restlessness. Max in contrast was deceptively calm, like still waters hiding whirlpools. In the engine room, Sid's signature flickered with nervous excitement as he tinkered with something—probably making last-minute adjustments to Drone or systems that didn't need adjusting. Each of them carried their own fears, their own hopes. His family, though none would say it aloud.

The Force's currents flowed around him, the Cosmic Force travelling with them along their hyperspace route, the Living Force breathing slowly just as himself, its waves washing up the emotions of the others resting aboard the ship. Edric carried a deep sorrow for those who would never experience the Force as he did—never sense its vastness, its intricate threads binding the galaxy together down to its smallest elements. It was everywhere, in every tiny corner of existence, woven into their very cells, into every creature and plant across countless worlds.

He let himself sank deeper in the ocean, the cold more welcoming. His body had no weight anymore, his thoughts drifted away into the void, and he heard no noise, smelt no scents.

Until he did.

Edric opened his eyes, the tall grass of his sanctuary swayed around him, but something was wrong. The golden strands had turned black as ink, brittle and sharp as glass. Each blade cut into him as he moved, drawing pinpricks of blood that fell like droplets of rain. The sky above churned with impossible colors, clouds waging a war in the heavens.

Two figures appeared in the distance. One burned like a star, its light almost blinding. The other was wrapped in a shadow so deep it seemed to devour even the light around it like a black hole. As Edric watched, the figures began to merge, their energies twisting together until he could no longer tell where one ended and the other began.

He tried to run, but his feet sank into ground that had become like quicksand. No… he wasn't even moving. His body didn't want to obey. The more he struggled, the stronger the confines seemed to become. Looking down, he saw his own reflection in the liquid, black earth—but it wasn't his face staring back. It was Kael's. No... it was his face now, but with Kael's burning, amber eyes. The reflection smiled, and Edric felt his own lips curl in a mirror of the expression.

Something tugged at his feet—a root of light that stretched out into the sea of black grass shards. Following it with his eyes, he saw it connected to others. Max, Lyra, Edwin, even Sid. But as he watched, the roots began to blacken, the rot spreading from himself outward like poison in his veins. One by one, the connections crumbled to ash, along with the people he loved.

No, he tried to scream, but no words left his lips. He watched, unable to do anything until he felt his ribs explode with fire, burning everything around him in a shockwave that destroyed everything in its path. All that remained was the void, a darkness so vast he couldn't see where it began or where it ended.

"This is what you fear," a voice whispered—his voice, but also not his voice. "That you'll become what you fight against. That you'll destroy everything you love."

The merged figures approached, resolving into a single form that wore his face but moved with Kael's confident grace. It held out a hand, offering something that pulsed with power—the holocron, but altered, its edges jagged like broken glass, its light a sickly mix of scarlet and gold.

"Take it," the figure said. "Become what you were meant to be."

Edric reached for it, his hand moving against his will. No, no, no, he tried to command his own body to no avail. The moment his fingers brushed the holocron's surface, it shattered, and so did the void.

He was on a ship's bridge, similar to the one he travelled on to Tarnos. Next to him, his old master clad in black robes, a hood covering his face. Looking down, he saw he was in similar attire. They watched on as frigates and destroyers were flying towards Coruscant, explosions appearing on the surface.

Edric's eyes flew open, his chest heaving with ragged breaths, each inhale sharp and shallow, as though he couldn't quite catch enough air. Sweat clung to him like a second skin, dampening his tunic and chilling him in the stillness of the room.

"Why is this happening to me?" he whispered into the empty quarters, his voice trembling and raw. His hands came up to bury his face, his fingers pressing into his temples as though he could somehow squeeze the thoughts away. The Force was warning him—of that much, he was certain.

The fear tugged at him like an itch he couldn't scratch. Just as Edwin said, he couldn't deny its existence but he couldn't also let it paralyze him. Edric exhaled slowly, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath to steady himself. He let the fear flow through him, not fighting it, not pushing it away, but accepting its presence. Fear was part of the equation, a cloud before his sun, casting a shadow. It didn't have to rule him, and it wouldn't—not this time.

His muscles twitched with pent up energy, the lingering panic of the vision still coursing through his veins. Meditation had only made things worse, stirring up worries he had tried to bury. He needed to move, to do something—anything—to shake off the dark images still burning in his mind.

Standing, his eyes caught his old holocron from his master. His gaze lingered, his brow furrowing for a brief moment before he stepped toward it. With a wave of his hand, the cube lit up, its intricate patterns glowing as the mechanism came to life. A flicker of blue light expanded into the familiar hologram of Jedi Master Kael Asher.

Edric's chest tightened. The man in the projection was almost unrecognizable compared to the Inquisitor he had faced. This Kael's face was serene, his posture upright, his voice calm and imbued with a warmth that once filled every room he entered. There was no trace of the rage, the bitterness, or the darkness that now consumed him. For a moment, Edric allowed himself to forget what his master had become and a memory surfaced—Kael correcting his form during lightsaber practice, his touch gentle but firm as he adjusted Edric's stance. "Power isn't everything," he had said, a knowing smile playing at his lips. "It's about balance, about finding the flow." How far they had both come from those simple lessons, those quiet moments in the Temple's training rooms. What would that version of his master think of what he had become?

He listened again to the entry about the time he selected him and then how he noticed Edric was… different than most Padawans. How Kael thought he still had great potential, if he managed to trust himself enough. Edric couldn't help, but smile at those words, wishing he could hear them in reality too, today.

His smile faltered as his thoughts drifted to another memory he had buried deep. Standing in the infirmary, staring at Kael's lifeless form suspended in the bacta tank. He was so young, so lost, searching desperately for a connection with the man who had been his guide, his anchor. Edric remembered whispering to him, his words trembling and his tears slipping, confessing how adrift he felt without him. Maybe if he had tried harder that day, reached deeper into the Force to save him, things could have been different. Maybe Kael wouldn't have fallen.

But it was all said and done. He was no longer that boy. There was a path before him, however difficult it was.

Edric reached out and waved a hand over the holocron. The light dimmed, leaving the cube dark and lifeless once more. For a moment, he simply stood there, staring at it, before stepping back and clipping his lightsaber hilt from his belt. The crystal inside hummed along with his breathing's rhythm, offering comfort in its familiar resonance. He turned toward the door, his steps deliberate as he made his way to the cargo hold. If he couldn't quiet his mind through meditation, perhaps his body could exhaust these demons away. Let the dance of movement, the hum of his saber, and the flow of the Force be his anchor. It was time to face the chaos within, one swing at a time.

The soft hum of the Beast's engines filled the cargo hold as Edric moved through his forms, his yellow lightsaber tracing arcs of light in the dim space. The familiar movements steadied him, gave his restless mind something to focus on, but the knot in his chest refused to untangle. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the battle ahead, the countless ways it could all go wrong. He wasn't sure if he was ready. If he would ever be truly prepared. But he knew one thing: as long as there was even a flicker of hope, he would embrace it. He would fight. Even if Kael had laid a trap like his vision hinted at, Edric couldn't run from it.

His style had changed since his Jedi days. Where once he had relied purely on formal stances, now he incorporated everything he had learned from the others. Efficiency Max had taught him, the raw power Edwin had shown him, even tricks picked up in the fighting pit. His yellow blade carved paths through the dim air, each strike a blend of discipline and instinct. Not quite a Jedi, not quite a bounty hunter, not quite predictable—something uniquely his own, using his body, his raw strength along with the Force and the forms he remembered from his Padawan days.

The sound of footsteps made him pause mid-stance, chest heaving, his sweat-soaked tunic discarded on a nearby crate. Lyra stood in the doorway, watching him with a mix of fondness and something else—something that made Edric's already too-rapid pulse quicken as the Force whispered around him. She had removed her green battle armor and wore a loose, black undershirt that fell off one shoulder, revealing smooth skin and the subtle curve of her collarbone. Her dark hair, usually confined in tight braids, fell loose around her face, softer than he had ever seen it. The dim cargo hold lights caught the green of her eyes, making them shimmer like kyber crystals.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked, stepping into the hold.

His breath caught as he took her all in. There was something that just drew his attention to her whole being, in a way Edric had never felt when in the Order. He first felt it on Tarnos, but couldn't place it back then. Now… it was clearer, and yet, still uncharted. The light played across her features, highlighting her high cheekbones, the gentle curve of her lips, the scattered freckles across her nose he had never noticed before. A faint scar traced above her right eyebrow—a reminder of battles fought—but it only added to her allure.

Edric deactivated his saber with a snap-hiss, the glow vanishing as he turned to face her. He suddenly became acutely aware of how disheveled he must look—shirtless, hair damp, skin glistening.

"Couldn't sleep either?"

She shook her head, moving to sit on one of the cargo crates. "Every time I try, my mind starts racing. Planning, worrying..." She gave a small laugh. "Driving myself crazy, probably."

"I know the feeling," Edric said, leaving a careful space between them. "Back at the Temple, they taught us to release our anxieties into the Force. To find peace in meditation." He glanced down at his lightsaber. "Never quite worked for me though."

"Is that why you're here swinging that thing around instead?"

"Hey, it helps sometimes." He grinned, then sobered. "Or at least tire myself out enough that I can't think anymore."

Lyra's eyes met his, and something in her gaze made his heart skip. "What do you think about? That keeps you awake?"

"Everything. The holocron. My master." He hesitated, then added, "You."

The admission hung in the air between them and Edric could see her eyes widening first then her expression transforming into something new. There were so many things Edric could sense through the Force at the same time, overwhelming like the noise of the crowd at that market they visited on Sid's planet. Lyra jumped off the crate to take a step toward Edric. "Me?" Her voice was quiet, barely audible in the large cargo hold.

"You're not exactly easy to forget," he said, managing a small smile.

She moved closer, her bare feet making barely a sound on the metal floor, the space between them shrinking until there was none at all. He could smell the faint scent of her floral soap. Her shirt slipped further off her shoulder, and Edric couldn't help but follow the line of her neck down to where it met her collarbone. His fingers itched to trace the path his eyes had taken. She moved with a fighter's grace, but there was a softness to her too, visible only in these quiet moments and only so up close.

Her hand came to rest on his chest, right over his heart. Her touch was both cool and warm, a paradox that sent an involuntary shiver rippling through Edric's body. The coarse, curly hair on his chest seemed to spring to life under her fingers, as though it, too, was reacting to the spark that passed between them.

"I might put on this brave face," she whispered, her hand still resting over his heart. "But I'm…kriffing terrified."

The admission caught him off guard. Lyra was always so fearless, so certain. Seeing her vulnerability made his heart jump.

"Every time I close my eyes," she continued, "I see everything I've already lost. My father, my home..." Her voice wavered slightly. "I can't lose you too."

"I'm scared too," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "Of failing…everyone. And failing you," He leaned his forehead against hers. "The Force feels darker every day, and I—I don't know if I'm strong enough."

"You are," she said fiercely. "But you don't have to be strong all the time. Not with me."

"I…know," he said, his hand instinctively covering hers. The warmth of her against his skin was both a comfort and a catalyst, stirring emotions he had kept locked away.

"Then stop thinking so much."

Her lips lingered open and she inched closer, but at the last moment, Edric hesitated. Years of Jedi training screamed at him to pull back, to maintain control. Attachment leads to fear, fear leads to anger—the ancient teachings echoed in his mind like chains trying to hold him back again. But was it really an attachment? It didn't feel like it, it was something else.

"I—" he started, his voice rough, looking away from her eyes. "I shouldn't. Tomorrow's mission— You said it yourself."

Lyra's hand came up to his bearded cheek, her touch sending another jolt of electricity through his body, pulling his gaze back. "There's always going to be another mission," she whispered. "Another battle." Her thumb traced his lower lip, and his restraint wavered. "I'm tired of pretending this isn't what we both want."

The last threads of his resistance snapped like overdrawn chains. He wasn't a Jedi anymore—hadn't been for a long time. How could something that felt this right be wrong? He dropped his lightsaber to the floor with a metallic clatter. His hands found her waist, pulling her in as their lips finally met.

The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, but quickly deepened into something more urgent. Weeks of carefully maintained restraint crumbled as Edric surrendered to what he had been fighting against for so long. Through the Force, he could sense her desire matching his own, their energies intertwining like two stars drawn into each other's orbit until they merged. Edric pulled her closer, one hand tangling in her hair while the other traced her spine.

Lyra responded with equal fervor, her fingers mapping the contours of his shoulders, his back.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, her eyes were dark with desire. But there was vulnerability there too.

"Edric," she whispered his name, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "I don't want this to be just... because we might die tomorrow."

He caught her hand, pressing a gentle kiss to her palm. "It's not," he said softly. "I've wanted this for a long time. I was just too afraid to go for it."

"And now?"

"Now..." Edric smiled, touching his forehead to hers. "Now I'm only afraid of not showing you how I feel while I have the chance."

Her answering smile could have lit up the darkest corners of the galaxy and she kissed him again, softer this time but no less passionate. They stumbled toward her quarters, unwilling to break contact.

The door hissed shut behind them, and then it was a blur of sensation—clothes discarded, skin against skin. Edric trailed kisses down her neck as her fingers raked across his back. Lyra's hands traced the scars on his shoulder, battle marks from his time as a Jedi, while his fingers mapped every curve of her body like he was trying to memorize her by touch alone. Finally, the Force seemed to sing around them, their separate energies merging into something transcendent.

In that moment, there was no Empire, no holocron, no looming battle. There was only Lyra, and the love he had denied himself for far too long.

Hours later, Edric laid awake, Lyra curled against his side, her head resting on his chest. Her breathing had evened out into the rhythm of sleep, but he couldn't stop watching her. The way her hair spilled across his skin like ink, how peaceful she looked in the faint blue light of hyperspace filtering through the viewport. A lump formed in his throat. He never felt like this. This happiness, even with all the darkness around them.

He traced idle patterns on her bare shoulder, committing every detail to memory. Whatever happened tomorrow, he would carry this moment with him. This perfect slice of time where nothing existed but them, wrapped in each other's warmth while the rest of the galaxy slept.

The ship's chrono blinked silently, counting down the hours until they reached Prakith. Until reality intruded once more. But for now, Edric allowed himself this connection he had once thought forbidden. The Jedi had warned that love was a path to the dark side, that attachment would cloud judgment and lead to fear. Lying in that bed however, Edric felt clearer than ever. This wasn't weakness—it was strength. Not the kind that came from power or control, but from having something real to fight for. Something worth protecting. The Force flowed through him in a balance, and in its currents changed the fear to something else.

Purpose.

He pressed a gentle kiss to Lyra's temple, and she stirred slightly, murmuring something unintelligible before settling closer against him, her warmth almost caressing his body. Edric smiled, finally feeling sleep tugging at his consciousness. Tomorrow would bring what it would, but tonight... tonight was theirs.