Location: Florianis System, New Galaxy
Date: 5 ABY
It had been a few days since Cal, Merrin, and Gungi embarked on their mysterious journey, guided by the strange spirit of the planet. Each day brought them a new holocron and a deeper connection to the world's secrets. The day before, they had successfully solved the Wind Riddle, a test given by the planet's spirit, and were gifted their third holocron. But the spirit had made one thing clear—do not study the holocrons until you leave the planet.
Now, as they journeyed further west, another riddle stood before them: The Respect Riddle.
"Two men work for you. One is loyal, but weak. The other is strong, but disrespects you. You can only keep one. Who do you keep?"
Cal was about to answer when the spirit's voice, deep and resonant, interrupted. "You will not answer now. Follow the stone slab. It will guide you to a cave—three caves, one for each of you. Enter at the same time. If you all pass the test, a purple holocron will be revealed."
As the message faded, the stone slab at their feet began to glow faintly, etching a path in the ground, pointing them westward. Without hesitation, they began their trek through the dense forest, following the glowing trail.
It wasn't long before Cal's comm beeped, pulling him away from the silence of the wilderness. He glanced down and answered. Admiral Piett's voice came through the device, calm but laced with subtle concern.
"Greetings, Master Jedi."
"Admiral," Cal replied, quickening his pace just a little to keep up with Merrin and Gungi.
"My crew and I are growing concerned about our essential supplies," Piett continued. "We'll need to return to the known galaxy soon to restock. Could you provide an estimate on how much longer this mission will take?"
Cal sighed, trying to balance the trust he'd earned with the need for secrecy. "I apologize for being vague about this mission. This planet is strong in the Force, and it's guiding us to gather pieces of information—holocrons, which we believe will help us understand something far larger."
There was a brief pause before Cal continued, "So far, we've found three holocrons, one each day. As far as we know, there are three more to be found. I'd say, at most, another week."
"Very well, Master Jedi," Piett replied, though the hesitation was clear. "Do you still wish for our forces to remain above the planet's surface? We can send a TIE squadron if you come under attack."
"There are no signs of sentient life or hostile creatures on this world, Admiral. We appreciate the offer, but we're managing just fine."
"Understood. We'll await further instructions. Message us when you're close to completing the mission."
"I will. Thank you, Admiral." Cal cut the connection and stowed the comm.
He could tell the crew of the Executor was growing restless. It was understandable—sitting in orbit over a seemingly quiet planet, with little action, was enough to make even the most disciplined crew stir-crazy. If they were out exploring new worlds and encountering diverse environments, it might keep them more engaged. But Cal, Gungi, and Merrin—well, for them, this had been quite an adventure. Every day brought a new challenge, a new mystery, and time was flying by as they embraced each new location and solved each new riddle.
As they followed the stone slab's glowing trail, the terrain shifted once again. The trees grew taller, more imposing, and the air became cooler. The forest ahead of them was vast, its thick canopy casting dappled light onto the soft, pine-covered ground below. Every step they took was muffled by layers of needles and leaves. The trees, ancient and towering, seemed to rise endlessly into the sky, their trunks as thick as small houses. The air smelled of pine and fresh earth, and a gentle breeze rustled through the branches overhead.
The forest had an otherworldly calm to it, as though it had been untouched for centuries. There were no signs of civilization—only the raw beauty of the wild. Giant boulders covered in moss dotted the landscape, and small streams trickled through the underbrush, their water clear and cold. Birds sang their evening songs, and the occasional rustle of a small creature could be heard in the distance, but otherwise, the forest was still, serene.
The group continued their journey westward, the forest growing denser around them, the path twisting and turning as they navigated through the towering trees. They didn't speak much, all of them silently contemplating the next challenge ahead—the caves and whatever test awaited them inside.
Cal felt a sense of anticipation building. The spirit of this planet had been cryptic, but there was no doubt in his mind that whatever came next would be important. And if they passed this test… they would be one step closer to their goal. But for now, they walked in silence, the forest stretching out before them like a vast, untouched wilderness.
The forest was alive with the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze and the distant calls of creatures settling down for the night. As the sun dipped lower, casting long, golden rays through the dense canopy, Cal kept his eyes focused ahead, his grip tightening on the stone slab. They had been walking for hours, following the strange, glowing path, and yet, no clear vision had come to him.
Merrin walked a few paces behind, her eyes scanning the surroundings, but her presence was more than just physical. Cal could feel her calming influence through the Force. Every now and then, as his anxiety bubbled up—impatience gnawing at him—he'd catch a soft breath from Merrin, her presence nudging him back into calm. She'd always been a grounding force for him, though she rarely showed it outright.
Gungi, ever the practical one, wasn't as concerned. His fur rippled slightly in the fading light as he glanced around. He stopped suddenly and turned to Cal, his compact translator device humming into life.
"Give up to fate, rest," came the translation of Gungi's low growl.
Cal hesitated for a moment, gripping the slab, waiting for something, anything, to guide them. But as the sun set lower and the forest darkened, he sighed, realizing Gungi was right.
"All right, let's set up camp," Cal relented, looking for a clear spot near a nearby stream. "We'll try again tomorrow."
They found a small clearing beside a gently flowing stream. The water was so clear, it sparkled even in the dimming light. The sound of it running over rocks was peaceful, calming in a way that made it easy to unwind. The air smelled fresh—crisp and cool, like it had just rained, though the ground remained dry underfoot.
They set up camp quickly, unrolling mats and sitting close together as the cool of the evening began to settle in. Cal pulled out a couple packs of dried meat, a gift from the tribes they had encountered on Peridea, and passed them around. The meat was tough but flavorful, reminding them of how far they had traveled to get to this place. Each bite was a small comfort, grounding them in the present.
They drank from the stream, its water clear and refreshing, and slowly, the tension of the day melted away. The simple act of eating, of resting, helped ease the frustration and impatience that had been building up in them.
As they sat in comfortable silence, the sky above darkened into twilight. Stars began to flicker through the gaps in the trees, and the soft sounds of the forest lulled them closer to sleep.
Merrin stretched out, laying back on her mat, gazing up at the sky. "It's strange… this planet feels ancient, yet it's guiding us like it knows our path."
Cal nodded, though his eyes were growing heavy. "Feels like it's testing us, too."
Gungi let out a soft grunt in agreement, already lying back with his hands resting over his chest, his eyes closed.
The silence stretched on, broken only by the soft sounds of the stream. One by one, they drifted off to sleep.
XX
Flashback.
Location: Dagobah
Date: 2 ABY
Cal was standing in a thick, swampy forest. The air was heavy with humidity, and the ground squelched beneath his boots as he moved. He recognized this place—Dagobah. The mist, the ancient trees, the ever-present murkiness of the Force. But this wasn't just a memory; it was a vision, something deeper.
He saw Luke standing a few paces ahead, younger than the Luke he'd seen in recent times, still unsure of himself. And there, beside him, was Spectre Seven, her eyes sharp and her presence steady, though she was always just a little sassy, a little playful. Ezra was there too, standing slightly off to the side, his expression a mixture of curiosity and amusement.
"Go in, you must," Yoda's voice rang out, directing Luke. "Face yourself, alone, without your weapons."
Luke hesitated, glancing down at his belt, his hand instinctively brushing against the hilt of his lightsaber.
Spectre Seven stood nearby, shaking her head slightly, her body language relaxed but skeptical. She watched Luke with the look of someone who seen how this plays out.
Luke's eyes flickered to her, catching her expression. She didn't say a word, but the subtle shake of her head, the arch of her eyebrow—it was like a silent conversation. Cal could feel the dynamic between them. Despite her past, Spectre Seven had come to fill a sort of motherly role for Luke, guiding him in ways no one else had.
Luke, clearly torn, eventually nodded as though hearing her unspoken advice. He kept his belt on, despite Yoda's instructions.
Ezra, watching from the side, leaned over to Spectre Seven and whispered, "Looks like your strong, sassy nature finally rubbed off on him."
Spectre Seven chuckled softly. "Luke views me more like a mother than anything else."
Ezra raised an eyebrow. "Maybe."
She smirked. "I suppose you've got a point. First impressions and all that."
Ezra snickered under his breath, their banter light despite the serious task ahead.
Yoda's eyes narrowed, watching the exchange. His expression remained impassive as he glanced at Luke, his old, wrinkled hand resting on his cane.
"Why, young Skywalker, have you kept your weapons?" Yoda's voice was soft, yet pointed.
Spectre Seven, without missing a beat, responded, her voice calm and thoughtful, but with an edge of her usual sass. "Is it a better fate to be defenseless and struck down by the enemy, or to wield a weapon and free others by defeating your foes?"
Yoda stared at her, his eyes narrowing even further, as though considering her words deeply. "That is not the lesson meant for him."
Spectre Seven shrugged, a small smirk playing on her lips. "Maybe not, but sometimes survival comes before the lesson."
Ezra knew Spectre Seven's past as an Inquisitor still weighed on her, even if she had chosen to stand with the Jedi now. The way she spoke, the way she carried herself—it all had traces of the life she'd led before.
Ezra shifted awkwardly but said nothing. He had learned, by now, when not to push too far.
Yoda observed her closely, seeing beyond the words. Her playful, almost cocky demeanor masked the deeper struggles within. Her time as an Inquisitor, the things she had done, would always be a part of her. Her sassy, controlling nature—it wasn't just a quirk. It was a survival mechanism, something ingrained in her from years of having to maintain control or face the consequences. She never would've dared act like this in front of Vader or the Emperor.
Luke took a deep breath, feeling the weight of their expectations. He stepped into the cave, darkness swallowing him whole.
Luke moved cautiously, each step calculated. The cave was tight, suffocating, but he pushed forward. He didn't know what he was supposed to find here, but he trusted Yoda's guidance—at least, mostly.
Suddenly, out of the shadows, a figure emerged. She was masked, wearing dark armor similar to that of an Inquisitor, her presence immediately filling the space with a menacing energy. She was short, lithe, and quick, her red lightsaber igniting in a snap-hiss.
Without thinking, Luke ignited his own saber, the blue blade casting an eerie light on the walls of the cave. The two clashed, and Luke found himself instantly on the defensive. The space was tight, each swing of his saber barely missing the rocky walls as the figure pressed her advantage.
Her strikes were fast, precise, each movement calculated, each breath measured. Luke dodged and parried, his focus entirely on surviving.
Then, in a flash of instinct, Luke shifted tactics. Instead of backing away, he surged forward, pushing her back with a series of aggressive strikes. The sudden change caught the masked figure off guard. She stumbled, her defenses faltering.
"Wait..." the figure said, her voice distorted by the mask's vocoder.
Luke paused, his saber still raised. "What?"
"You... you have anger against Vader, don't you?" the voice asked, almost casual in its inquiry.
Luke frowned, his grip tightening on the hilt of his saber. "I admit... I do. He's done more harm than anyone could ever imagine. It's hard to forgive him."
The figure tilted her head, studying him. "Your father... he was killed by Vader?"
"Yes," Luke replied without hesitation. "Vader killed him. My father, his master, his apprentice... so many others. Not to mention all the innocents."
"Then... seek revenge," the figure said, her voice almost coaxing, tempting. "Kill him for what he did to you... to them."
Luke lowered his saber slightly. "No. I won't kill him for that. If I ever face him, it'll be to stop him from hurting anyone else. Not for some selfish revenge."
The figure fell silent for a moment before speaking again. "I see... I joined him, you know. But I hate him. He destroyed my home, my family. When Vader and Palpatine are gone... there's hope for a better galaxy."
Luke stared at her, the confusion growing. "What's driving you?"
The figure hesitated, then slowly reached up, removing her helmet. The face beneath it was unmistakable.
"Leia?" Luke's voice shook, disbelief washing over him. "This... this can't be real."
Leia—if that's who she truly was—smirked, her eyes dark and cold. "A possibility in the Force, Luke. That's all."
Luke's mind raced, trying to comprehend what was happening. "A possibility? You... you have the same power I do?"
Leia nodded. "Yes. And with that power, so many possibilities open up. Ignorance can be bliss, Luke. Sometimes, not knowing is better."
She paused, her expression softening slightly. "Who knows? In another life, you might have stayed on Tatooine, living out your days as a farmer. Complacent, unaware."
Luke shook his head. "No... I wouldn't have stayed. I couldn't have."
"Maybe," she replied. "But like your master Seventh Sister says... complacency is the killer of all men. Some of us find purpose in battle. In war."
Luke sighed, extinguishing his saber. "I don't know if I believe in that kind of purpose."
"Maybe you're right." Leia's voice softened further. "But sometimes... fighting is necessary."
With that, she faded into the darkness, leaving Luke alone in the cave. He stood there for a long moment, trying to shake the lingering fear—the fear that maybe, just maybe, Leia had a path darker than he could imagine.
XX
Cal woke up with a jolt, his heart racing. The vision had been intense, unsettling. He sat up, looking around the quiet camp. The fire had died down, and his companions were still asleep.
But the unease lingered, like a shadow clinging to the edges of his mind.
The stars were out in full force tonight, scattered across the black canvas of the galaxy, their light faint but constant. The campfire had died down hours ago, leaving only the barest flickers of embers to dance in the night. The quiet hum of the forest had settled into its natural rhythm—a far cry from the loud, chaotic worlds Cal was used to. Here, everything felt... still.
But inside Cal's mind, it was anything but still. His dreams had been filled with visions, ones he couldn't shake. They clung to him like the sticky air of the jungle, and even as his eyes blinked open in the dead of night, the images stayed. Luke Skywalker... Leia... the strange connection they had, the fight that never quite reached its end.
He sat up slowly in his sleeping bag, careful not to wake the others. The cool night air hit him like a wave, refreshing but sharp. He rubbed his face, trying to shake off the lingering fog of sleep, and stared up at the endless sky, the stars blinking back at him like they had all the answers. But right now, he had more questions than answers.
As he moved, a soft sound came from beside him. Merrin's eyes fluttered open. She had always been light on her feet, aware of even the slightest change in the air. It was one of the many reasons he admired her.
"Cal?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "What happened?"
He let out a sigh, leaning back on his hands as he looked up again. "I saw a vision... of Luke. Back when he was training. He saw Leia Organa—"
Merrin raised an eyebrow, cutting him off. "The Republic Chancellor?"
"Yeah," Cal confirmed, nodding slowly. "But it wasn't her, not exactly. He fought her, but she was a Sith in the vision. They went at it in this dark cave... but then they stopped. They talked, and realized they weren't so different."
Merrin sat up now, fully awake, her pale eyes watching him closely. "So, they fought side by side?"
Cal shook his head, his expression thoughtful. "No... it wasn't like that. Leia wasn't really there—just a vision in Luke's mind. After they talked, she disappeared."
She was quiet for a moment, processing what he'd said. "What do you think it means?"
Before Cal could answer, a rustling sound cut through the quiet of the forest. Both of them froze, instantly alert. The noise was soft at first, almost like the wind brushing through the bushes, but it grew louder—closer. Whatever it was, it was moving slowly, deliberately. Cal's heart picked up pace, and he instinctively reached for his saber, though he didn't ignite it. Not yet.
Merrin's gaze shifted to the direction of the sound, her fingers twitching, ready to summon her magic at a moment's notice. "We're not alone," she whispered.
A low growl echoed from the darkness, and suddenly, a massive figure stepped out from the shadows. A wolf—larger than anything they had seen before—emerged from the underbrush. Its sleek, dark fur blended into the night, but its piercing eyes locked onto them with an intelligence that sent a shiver down Cal's spine. The creature was like the wolves Ezra Bridger and Lord Vader had seen on Lothal, only bigger, more imposing, its presence commanding the space around it.
Cal's breath caught in his throat for a second, and without taking his eyes off the wolf, he reached over and gently shook Gungi's shoulder. The Wookiee stirred, his eyes heavy with sleep as he slowly woke up, blinking in confusion. But the moment he saw the massive wolf standing just a few feet away, his grogginess disappeared. Gungi shot to his feet, his muscles tense, eyes wide with adrenaline.
"Wait, wait," Cal said quickly, raising a hand to stop Gungi from doing anything rash. "We know the drill. Let's calm it down."
Gungi glanced at Cal, then back at the wolf, his breathing still heavy with the rush of being woken up so abruptly. But he nodded, taking a deep breath to steady himself.
Both Cal and Gungi extended their hands slowly, reaching out with the Force, feeling for the creature's mind, its emotions. The wolf growled low in its throat, but it didn't attack. Instead, it watched them carefully, its eyes narrowing as if assessing their intentions. Cal could feel its energy—wild, untamed, but not hostile. Not yet, at least.
"Easy..." Cal murmured softly, his voice calm, soothing. He focused on projecting peace, a sense of trust. The wolf's breathing slowed, its growl fading into silence. It stood there, motionless, its massive frame towering over them, but it wasn't aggressive anymore. It was waiting.
Just as they thought they had calmed the situation, the wolf lifted its head and let out a loud, resonating roar that echoed through the forest. The sound was deep, almost primal, and it sent a chill down Cal's spine.
A moment later, another wolf appeared from the opposite side of the camp, just as large as the first. Its fur was lighter, almost silver in the faint light of the stars, and it moved with the same slow, deliberate grace as the first.
Cal exchanged a quick glance with Merrin, who had risen to her feet, her eyes darting between the two wolves. "This... can't be good," she muttered.
Before anyone could say or do anything else, the first wolf spoke. Its voice was deep, gravelly, with a strange, almost foreign accent that made the words sound ancient, powerful. "Come with me," it said, the command clear and firm.
Cal blinked, momentarily stunned. The wolf... spoke? He'd heard of such things on Lothal, but experiencing it firsthand was something else entirely.
Merrin looked at Cal, her eyes wide. "Did that wolf just... talk?"
"Yeah... yeah, it did," Cal muttered, his mind racing. Every instinct told him this was a bad idea, that they should run, or at least be cautious. But something about the way the wolf spoke, the authority in its voice, made him hesitate.
The second wolf growled softly, a low rumble in its chest, and Gungi tensed again. Cal could feel the Wookiee's urge to fight, to defend their camp, but he held up a hand to stop him.
"I don't think we have a choice," Cal said quietly.
The first wolf nodded, as if it had heard him. "Come."
With that, it turned and started walking back into the forest, its massive paws making barely a sound as it moved. The second wolf stood by, watching them, clearly waiting for them to follow.
Gungi let out a low growl of his own, his unease palpable. But he reluctantly moved toward the second wolf, climbing onto its back with a grunt. The wolf's muscles rippled under his weight, but it didn't falter. It simply waited for the others.
Cal exchanged another look with Merrin. She gave him a small, resigned shrug. "Well, it's not the strangest thing we've done."
"Not by a long shot," Cal agreed, shaking his head with a faint smile. "Let's go."
He climbed onto the first wolf's back, the creature's fur soft but thick under his hands. Merrin followed, hopping on behind him, her arms wrapping loosely around his waist to steady herself.
Without a word, the wolves started moving, their strides long and smooth as they glided through the forest. The night air rushed past them, cool and crisp, the stars above twinkling through the gaps in the trees. The wolves moved fast, but not so fast that Cal couldn't take in their surroundings. The forest was dense, alive with the sounds of nocturnal creatures, but there was something else—something almost magical in the way the trees seemed to sway, the ground shifting under the wolves' paws as if the very earth was guiding them.
Cal's mind raced as they sped through the forest. Where were they being taken? Why had the wolves come for them? And what did that vision of Luke and Leia mean?
But for now, there were no answers. Only the wolves, the night, and the unknown path ahead.
As they continued deeper into the forest, the trees grew thicker, their twisted branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. The moonlight barely pierced the canopy now, casting everything in a dark, shadowy haze. Cal could feel the tension in Merrin's body behind him, her grip tightening slightly as the wolves led them farther from their camp.
"Ever feel like we're heading straight into trouble?" Merrin whispered, her breath warm against his ear.
"Pretty much all the time," Cal muttered, keeping his eyes on the path ahead. "But this? This feels... different."
"Different how?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity and a hint of unease.
"I don't know... it's like—" Cal stopped himself, unsure of how to put it into words. There was a sense of purpose here, something greater than just danger. The wolves weren't leading them to a trap, at least not in the traditional sense. He could feel that much. But what they were leading them to? That was still a mystery.
The first wolf suddenly slowed, its ears twitching as if listening to something only it could hear. Cal tensed, readying himself for anything. The forest around them had grown eerily quiet, the usual sounds of wildlife replaced by an almost oppressive silence.
Both wolves eventually slowed, their pace easing as they approached a large cave entrance. It loomed before them, dark and ominous. The first wolf halted and spoke again, its voice low. "Leave. The caves will guide you... for your test."
Cal slid off the wolf's back, his boots crunching softly against the dirt as he nodded. Merrin and Gungi dismounted beside him.
The wolves turned back into the forest, disappearing into the shadows.
Merrin looked at the cave, her expression thoughtful. "Well... guess this is it."
Cal nodded. "Seems like it."
The entrance was wide, leading into what appeared to be a labyrinth of caverns. The rock formations were jagged, the stone glowing faintly under the starlight, almost like the caves on Endor, though darker and more mysterious.
"We'll see each other soon," Merrin said, offering a small, reassuring smile.
Cal returned the smile, though the weight of the unknown lingered. He turned to Gungi, who nodded his understanding, his gaze focused on the cave ahead.
As they stepped inside, the air grew colder. The cavern was vast, with multiple tunnels splitting off in different directions. Cal felt the Force pulling him toward one specific path.
"This way," he said, the pull undeniable. The others nodded, and they each took their separate routes, much like younglings on Ilum searching for their kyber crystals.
Cal walked cautiously, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the empty space. The cavern walls shimmered, glowing faintly with hues of white and gold.
As he ventured deeper, the air thickened with a strange energy. He could feel it, the presence of something—someone—waiting for him.
And then he saw it.
The spirit appeared before him again, its form still shrouded in that familiar dark blanket, sitting on a stone chair within the shining, lime-green pyramid. The pyramid, much like a large holocron, glowed faintly, casting an eerie light over the figure.
"You again," Cal muttered under his breath, already familiar with its appearance.
"I appeared to have deceived your friends, Kestis," the spirit said, its voice low and almost mocking.
"What did you do?" Cal asked, his tone sharp.
"Don't fret, Kestis," the spirit replied. "I'm merely giving a shortcut. Two for the price of one. Your abilities have fast-tracked this adventure, haven't they?"
Cal stayed silent, his mind working, waiting.
"Remember the riddle I told you?" the spirit asked.
Cal nodded, recalling it. "Two men work for you. One is loyal but weak. The other is strong but disrespects you. You can only keep one. Who do you keep?"
The spirit waited for his answer.
Cal thought for a moment before speaking. "The weak one would serve any system, even an oppressive one, if it meant a comfortable life for his family. But the strong, though disrespectful, would stand by you in a fight. I'd rather fight alongside the strong one."
The spirit hummed in response, slightly amused. "Close. But not quite."
Cal frowned, confused. "How does that relate to my life?"
"A man who doesn't share all your ideals, but is willing to fight alongside you—would you accept him?" the spirit asked.
Cal hesitated, contemplating. "Even if he uses some of the dark side… if he's willing to fight for what's right, then yes."
"Ah, but what about you?" the spirit countered, pointing toward Cal. "You still carry darkness within you, Kestis."
"What do you see?" Cal asked, his voice quiet now, unsure.
"I see a willingness to compromise, but an inability to forgive."
Cal thought instantly of Vader—his anger toward him, yet his acceptance of fighting alongside others like Shin Hati or Baylan Skoll, who wielded the darker aspects of the Force.
"Forgive?" Cal echoed. "Forgive... to be free?"
"Perhaps," the spirit mused. "And perhaps the one you must forgive... is the very person from the riddle."
Cal stared at the spirit, trying to understand, to connect the pieces. He opened his mouth to ask more, but the spirit cut him off.
"You won't find your answers here, Kestis. Not yet. Your friends have their own tests. As for you..." The spirit's voice trailed off as it gestured toward a small, rising stone tower. Atop it was a globe, glowing red and blue.
"This is your test," the spirit said. "Are you ready?"
Cal swallowed, steeling himself. "I'm ready."
"Good," the spirit replied, its voice cryptic. "This test is not of physical prowess... but of the mind."
Cal feels the chill of the orb under his fingertips, its smooth surface radiating an odd, pulsing warmth beneath the cold. He's deep in thought, letting the spirit's riddle settle in the back of his mind, while his fingers trace the curves of the red and blue globe.
The vision of Luke and Kata flashes in his mind again—this time sharper, more intimate. A whisper of jealousy tightens his chest, followed quickly by shame. He's not supposed to feel this way. Not as a Jedi, and not as someone who has placed so much trust in Luke. Luke, who has been nothing but a mentor and protector for Kata.
But the spirit's words keep echoing in his mind, pushing him to question everything.
"You got a friend, but he's sleeping with your daughter behind your back. You can confront him and risk everything falling apart, or you can let it slide. What do you do?"
It's raw. Personal. Brutal. The riddle cuts deeper because it's not just about some abstract situation. It's about him. And that's the test, isn't it? It's not about solving a puzzle but about confronting his own fears, his own failings.
The red and blue orb pulses slightly in his hand, as if reacting to his indecision. He grips it tighter.
"What?" Cal mutters to himself, his voice barely audible in the still cavern. His mind spins with possibilities. Confrontation could lead to anger, distrust, the breaking of bonds. But letting it slide—pretending it doesn't bother him—would gnaw at his soul. Could he really live with that?
After the spirit reveals the riddle, Cal feels a knot tightening in his stomach. The weight of the question isn't just hypothetical—it digs deep into his own experience, his own fears. This riddle is a test of loyalty, pride, and betrayal, forcing him to think hard about what he values more: the loyalty of those close to him or the control he has over his personal world.
These riddles aren't easy. They're gritty, raw, and unflinchingly real, testing survival instincts, pride, trust, and power. Cal knows that these same traits are what fuel dark Jedi like Baylan, who seek power to protect the galaxy in ways Cal is unsure about. Yet, he feels that same relentless drive simmering inside himself, especially now, as he stares at the stone tower rising from the ground.
The stone pillar is no taller than a small child, but at the top, a red and blue globe rests, glowing faintly. It's a simple enough object, but to Cal, it might as well be the weight of the galaxy. His thoughts circle back to the only daughter he's ever known: Kata Akuna. She's not his by blood, but for over a dozen years, he's protected her, guided her. He's taught her self-defense, basic meditation techniques, helped her to confront her family's tragic past without letting it consume her.
But now... now, Kata is no longer that little girl needing protection. She's grown, stronger and more independent. And more than that, he gave her up—to Luke Skywalker. A powerful Jedi, someone with immense potential. The two of them were close in age—only a couple of years apart—and initially, Cal thought it was the right call. Master and apprentice, a partnership that would help her grow even more.
But recently, in a vision from the Force, he'd seen them together on a coastal trail, their connection no longer just that of master and apprentice. It was deeper now, more personal, more intimate. The thought of it twists something inside him, making his grip on the Force falter for a moment. Back when the old Jedi Order still stood, such a relationship would have been unthinkable. Inappropriate. It could have led to expulsion from the Order.
Yet things are different now. The new Force Order that over a dozen Jedi have forged on Chandrila is flexible, perhaps out of necessity. They need strength in numbers, unity against the threats that still lurk in the galaxy. Maybe that's why such rules have relaxed. Maybe that's why the old taboos no longer apply.
But none of that erases the conflict Cal feels in his heart. Luke and Kata—together? The thought of it feels wrong, but also inevitable. He gave her to Luke, trusted him with her, but the nature of their bond has changed. The riddle forces him to confront the very thing he's tried to push aside.
As Cal looks down at the globe atop the stone tower, he realizes that this isn't just a test of wit. It's a test of his own heart—his ability to trust, to forgive, and to let go.