In 18 BBY, Master Darian was a hidden Jedi Knight residing in the shadowed depths of Coruscant's undercity. He was an elder, nearing seventy-five standard years, and had lived a secluded life since the fall of the Jedi Order following Order 66.
Although this detail has little bearing on the main events we are about to recount, it is not insignificant to note the rumors and whispers that followed Master Darian from the moment he reappeared among the struggling inhabitants of the underworld. True or false, what is said about an individual often shapes their legacy as much as their actions. Master Darian was said to have been a promising Knight of the Old Republic, renowned for his wisdom and skill with the Force. Some claimed he was destined for a seat on the Jedi Council. Others said that, before his commitment to the Jedi Code, Darian was known for his charm, sharp wit, and an undeniable charisma that earned him attention across the galaxy.
Stories circulated that in his youth, Darian had walked a precarious line between duty and indulgence. He was refined, intelligent, and possessed a magnetic presence, though his stature was modest. It was said that much of his early life had been devoted to the grandeur of Coruscant's upper levels, where he mingled with dignitaries and scholars. His path, however, took a sharp turn toward the Jedi ideals of humility and service—a transformation that would define his life in ways none could foresee.
The Clone Wars erupted; events unfolded with staggering speed; the Jedi Order, scattered and betrayed by the very Republic it had served, was hunted to near extinction. Master Darian vanished to the Outer Rim during the chaos of Order 66. There, in the shadow of exile, his life took a tragic turn—his companion and confidant, a fellow Jedi, succumbed to an illness of the lungs, an ailment worsened by the harsh conditions of their hiding place. Darian had no padawan, no legacy to carry forward.
What shaped the next chapter of Master Darian's fate? The collapse of the Republic, the rise of the Empire, the horrifying betrayal of his Order—events like the Siege of Mandalore or the massacre at the Jedi Temple—could these have sparked within him a desire for seclusion and renunciation? Or was he struck by one of those personal tragedies that devastate even the most resolute, piercing his heart and shattering the purpose that once guided him? No one could say for certain.
All that was known was that when Darian reemerged from the Outer Rim, he had taken up a life of quiet service. By 5 BBY, he had settled in the shadows of Coruscant's lower levels. His once-celebrated presence had faded into humble anonymity, as he quietly tended to the forgotten and oppressed, a shadow of the Jedi Knight he had once been.
Around the time of the Empire's declaration, an unremarkable event connected to his humble work in the lower levels of Coruscant brought Master Darian to the Senate District. While there, he sought aid for the impoverished undercity from influential figures, including a powerful Imperial governor with ties to Emperor Palpatine.
One day, as Darian waited in the governor's chambers, the Emperor himself arrived to confer with his subordinate. The retired Jedi, cloaked in simple robes, gazed at the Sith Lord with quiet but intent curiosity. Palpatine, noticing the elder's unwavering stare, turned and asked sharply:
"Who is this old man, looking at me so intently?"
"Sire," replied Darian with a calm demeanor, "you are looking at a man striving for humility, and I at a man wielding great power. Perhaps we could both learn something."
That evening, intrigued by the interaction, the Emperor inquired further about Darian. Some weeks later, Darian was astonished to learn he had been granted special clearance to remain on Coruscant—an unusual favor under the Empire's oppressive rule. Whether it was granted out of curiosity, amusement, or a sense of irony on the Emperor's part, the gesture allowed Darian to continue his quiet mission in the undercity, a lone beacon of hope in the galaxy's dark heart.
What truth was there, after all, in the tales whispered about the early life of Master Darian? No one truly knew. Few beings on Coruscant or beyond had known him before the fall of the Jedi Order, and fewer still dared to ask.
Like every newcomer to the undercity, Darian faced the judgment of a population accustomed to gossip. Even his status as a former Jedi offered no shield against the speculative chatter that permeated the dark alleys and cantinas of Coruscant's depths. Yet, these stories were nothing more than rumors—mere echoes, words without substance. They were, as the Twi'leks of Ryloth might say, "empty breath."
Whatever the truth of his past, after nearly a decade of quiet service in the undercity, all talk of his history faded into obscurity. No one dared to speak of the Jedi Order in hushed tones anymore, let alone question the life of the mysterious elder who had made himself a fixture among the downtrodden.
When Darian arrived in the undercity, he was accompanied by a quiet, dignified woman, an elder named Baptira. She was his sister by blood, ten years his junior, and had followed him into exile, abandoning the life she might have had in the Republic's core. Their only companion was Magli, a loyal protocol droid of antiquated design who had served alongside Darian during his years as a Jedi. Though once a simple assistant to Baptira, Magli now carried the dual roles of caretaker to the pair and manager of their humble household—a small, cramped dwelling hidden deep within the shadows of Coruscant's endless layers.
Baptira was a tall, frail, and serene woman, embodying the very essence of dignity. She seemed to reflect the purity of her spirit, for it is said that a woman must nurture life to attain reverence, yet Baptira's life of quiet sacrifices and devotion had given her a saintly grace. She had never been beautiful in a conventional sense, but time had bestowed upon her a luminescent gentleness, a kind of glow born from a life of selflessness. What had once been mere thinness in her youth had evolved into a delicate radiance, as though her physical form barely contained the light of her soul. Her presence was ethereal, her large, downcast eyes carrying the weight of quiet wisdom. She seemed to belong more to the Force than to the physical realm, a vessel of serenity bound to Coruscant's shadows.
Magli, the aging protocol droid, was an entirely different being. Short, clunky, and perpetually jittery, the droid's joints whirred and hissed with every step. Always bustling about, Magli's constant movement was a combination of ceaseless dedication and a malfunctioning servo system that made her seem perpetually out of breath. Whether ensuring the home's meager supplies were in order or assisting the inhabitants of the undercity, she was a tireless—if noisy—companion.
Upon their arrival in the undercity, Master Darian and his companions settled into a forgotten administrative chamber buried deep in Coruscant's underbelly. The room, once belonging to a Republic bureaucrat, was modest and crumbling, yet sufficient for their needs. Word of a former Jedi Knight residing among the downtrodden spread quickly, stirring a mix of curiosity and wariness. The leaders of the local factions—the chief of the undercity enforcers and the overseer of a makeshift council—paid Darian their respects, following the traditions of the depths where power was still acknowledged.
With his place in the community established, the undercity waited with bated breath to see what this enigmatic figure would do next.