Chapter 27 - Balance

The elevator doors creaked open, grinding as if the servos malfunctioned. The darkness surged through the gap, dragging at Edric's legs, neck, and chest with tidal force, eager to drown him. First, a dark chamber beckoned them on the other side of the threshold. It was rectangular, as wide as the tower itself, the ceiling ending in a pyramid shape, like an obelisk's inside. Alcoves lined the walls from left to right, curious looking stone tables and statues nestled in them. Their surfaces were etched with scripts Edric had never seen before. A dim scarlet light illuminated the sculptures from below, casting expressions of eerie pity. Rows of pedestals dominated the chamber's center, each supporting relics of forgotten ages, but the centerpiece was the most interesting of them all. Inside a containment field hovered a tiny pyramid shaped object. The holocron.

Beyond the holocron, narrow windows pierced the far wall, offering glimpses of Prakith's desolate expanse. A throne dominated the space before them, its occupant seeming to absorb what little light remained, shadows cascading from his form in endless waves.

A laugh echoed through the chamber, deep and unhinged, though its source's lips never parted. "Took you long enough, my young apprentice," Kael Asher said, his emphasis on the final word dripping with malice. Even from across the room, Edric could see how his former master had transformed. Kael's hair hung in wild tangles, his face gaunt and eyes sunken within dark hollows. Yet those eyes burned with an amber fire, smoldering with hatred.

Edric fought down his rising bile, struggling against both the pulses of darkness emanating from Kael and the shock of his transformation. The brothers stepped forward, lightsabers raised in defense. The chamber loomed around him. Edric felt small again—just a youngling, frail against a larger breeze.

"Enough of your games, Inquisitor," Edwin's commanding voice rebounded off the ancient walls as he leveled his green blade at Kael. Edric sensed his brother's fury, the desperate need to avenge their father. But he kept it under control, the same way his hands remained unshaken. Edric's own grip on his yellow sword trembled despite his best efforts. You can do this, he told himself. Focus on the light.

But light was scarce here. The very air seemed to hunger for what little radiance remained. Edric clung to memories—his Jedi training, grueling yet rewarding. Max's laughter as they jumped to lightspeed, carefree and alive. Lyra's presence, a warmth that melted the shadows. He let them anchor him, fighting to keep his soul from slipping into the abyss. They helped tipping the scales back ever so slightly, to find solid ground beneath his feet and make sure his soul was not consumed.

"I'm not playing games," Kael snarled, half-rising from his throne. His fingers twitched restlessly near the lightsaber at his hip. Another unnerving laugh escaped him. "But I hoped you would both come. It's much more... entertaining this way."

"Master, please," Edric's voice sounded distant to his own ears. "It's not too late to do the right thing."

"Exactly, my apprentice. It's not too late for you to join me," Kael replied without hesitation. He descended from his throne with deliberate steps, gesturing toward the holocron. "You see, I face quite the puzzle," he continued, coming to rest before the containment field. His gaze devoured the artifact with primal hunger as he traced the field's surface with his fingers.

"Jedi holocrons yield only to Jedi. Sith holocrons to Sith alone. So tell me—what force opens a holocron that belongs to neither?" The question hung in the air like poison, clearly rhetorical. "Come on Edric, you can do it!" he shouted, his voice a cruel parody of past encouragement that made his former Padawan flinch.

A spark of anger ignited in Edric's core, its heat spreading through his limbs with familiar warmth. In this chamber of gloom, he found himself yearning to fan it into an inferno.

"Yes, that's it," Kael inhaled deeply, as if scenting prey. "I can feel your anger, my Padawan. I know how badly you want to embrace it."

"Don't let him manipulate you, Edric," Edwin reached out to his brother without taking his eyes off their enemy. Edric tried to smother the growing flame, but it refused to die, flickering back to life like a stubborn ember.

Kael let out a low chuckle, his voice dripping with mockery. "Ah, the noble brother," he mused. "Tell me, Edwin—what did honor mean to the thousands of Jedi who were slaughtered in the Clone Wars? Or the trillions who perished because of their failures?"

Edwin didn't answer. He didn't hesitate.

He lunged.

His green lightsaber ignited in a flash, sweeping toward Kael in a fluid arc. Kael's own snapped to life, its crimson glow slashing through the darkness as he met Edwin's strike head-on. The impact sent a shower of sparks flying, and the acrid scent of burning ozone filled the air—a stark, searing reminder of the deadly dance beginning to unfold.

For a brief moment, Edric just stood there frozen. His breath caught between action and hesitation. His brother's teachings echoed in his mind—control, balance, emotions kept dammed within their riverbeds. But he struggled. He wanted to be angry. He had every right to be. And he could use it. Even if just a little.

His jaw set, his fingers flexing against the hilt of his weapon. Then, with a deep breath, he moved.

Drawing on the Force, Edric launched himself into the fray, his body twisting midair as he fell into the mighty offensive form of Djem So.

Kael defended against the two brothers' siege with a fluid grace that spoke of decades of experience. The scarlet plasma beam weaved a web of light, intercepting each attack with seemingly effortless precision. As Edric's yellow blade clashed against his former master's, Kael's eyes gleamed with a predatory intelligence.

"Still favoring that high guard, Edric?" Kael taunted, his voice carrying over the hum and crackle of their lightsabers. "I see you haven't completely abandoned your old habits. How... predictable."

Edric gritted his teeth, trying to maintain his focus as Kael's words burrowed into his mind. He attempted to vary his hits, but found himself falling back on ingrained patterns drilled into him during his training under Kael.

Edwin, likely sensing his brother's inner turmoil, pressed his own assault. "Don't listen to him, Edric. Trust in the Force."

Their sabers moved in perfect harmony, Edwin's strong strikes forcing Kael to commit to blocks while Edric probed for openings. When Edwin pressed forward, Edric would slide to the opposite side, forcing his former master to divide his attention. They had practiced this dance on Dantooine, but now it became natural like two branches of the same tree moving in the wind.

Kael laughed, a cold and mirthless sound. "Ah yes. Tell me, Edric, do you feel the conflict within you? The anger you're so desperately trying to suppress?"

With a sudden burst of speed, Kael disengaged from Edwin and pushed him into one of the corners to focus his attention entirely on Edric. Their blades locked, faces inches apart, Kael's eyes boring into his former apprentice's.

"I taught you better than this, boy," Kael hissed. "You're holding back. Always had. Afraid of your own power, afraid of what you might become if you embrace it fully."

Edric's heart jumped at Kael's words, almost engulfed in a new surge of rage. He pushed back, breaking the lock and launching into a flurry of stabs. His attacks flowed together in a way that would have made his old Jedi Masters wince. He mixed his Djem So arcs with the raw movements he had learned in the fighting pits of Coruscant. A knee aimed at Kael's midsection flowed into an overhead strike. When Kael deflected, Edric didn't retreat into a proper guard stance—instead, he rolled with the momentum, using his bulk to close distance rather than maintain the traditional form.

But even as he attacked, he could feel the truth in Kael's words. He was holding back, torn between the two sides of his that fought even in his visions, the Light keeping him in fragile balance and the Dark impulses Kael nurtured in him.

The Inquisitor parried each blow with infuriating ease, his movements calculated. "There it is," he said, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "I can feel your frustration. Why deny it, Edric? Why cling to the weakness the Jedi have instilled in you? They are long gone!"

I'm no Jedi, he added in thought. His left hand released the hilt of his saber and caught Kael's forearm, gripping it tightly. For the first time, surprise flickered across Kael's face—just before Edric drove his forehead into his opponent's skull.

The impact sent a sharp jolt of pain through Edric's own head, but it was worth it. Kael staggered backward, momentarily off balance. Before he could recover, Edwin was already there. His green weapon arced downward in a punishing strike, forcing Kael to drop to one knee as he struggled to catch the blow in time.

Edric watched his fallen master's face twist, his lips pulling back in a silent snarl. Darkness poured from him like ink, thick and suffocating, the air itself seeming to shudder under its weight. The relics lining the chamber trembled, as if feeding him, the shadows stretching and pulsing unnaturally.

Then, with a sudden surge of strength, Kael rose—first onto one foot, then the other, moving with an otherworldly ease. The shadows around him writhed like living things, and the temperature in the chamber plummeted. Artifacts in their alcoves began to rattle, some cracking under the pressure of Dark Side energy that radiated from him in suffocating currents.

"Edwin, move!" Edric shouted, already in a defensive position. But the warning came too late.

Kael thrust both hands outward, and pure Force energy exploded from him in a concussive wave that shook the very foundations of the chamber. Edwin had no time to brace himself, attempting to create a barrier with the Force, but the raw energy simply tore through his defenses. The impact lifted him off his feet, hurling him across the chamber with a hurricane's force. His back slammed into one of the stone tables with a sickening crack, and he crumpled to the ground, his lightsaber rolling from his grip.

"Edwin!" Edric shouted, his voice raw. Through their connection, he could feel his brother's pain—a sharp, stabbing sensation that made him wince. But Edwin was alive, already struggling to rise back up despite the impact.

Kael's laughter echoed through the chamber. "Do you see now?" he asked, his voice carrying an almost paternal disappointment. "This is what comes of restraint. Of weakness." His blade hummed as he advanced on Edwin's position, crimson light casting long shadows across the floor.

Edric moved to intercept, but something made him freeze—a familiar cold sensation crawling up his spine. The Force screamed a warning, as if alarms blaring, crystal clear yet somehow incomprehensible. Like on Tarnos, like in his visions, he could feel disaster approaching but couldn't see its proper shape. His heart hammered against his ribs as time seemed to slow.

"Still clinging to the Light, my apprentice?" Kael's voice sounded distant, distorted. "Then let me show you the true power of the Dark Side."

Lightning crackled from Kael's fingertips, arcing through the air toward Edric. It illuminated the chamber in harsh, blue-white flashes. Edric raised his arms instinctively, but he knew it wouldn't be enough. He took a deep breath, preparing for the pain and the end. So be it, he thought bitterly, knowing that at least he tried.

"Brother!" Edwin's voice cut through the chaos. Despite his injuries, he launched himself forward with impossible speed. His green blade intercepted the lightning, catching the deadly electricity just a few feet from Edric's former master. The power of it drove Edwin to his knees, his arms trembling as he tried to hold back the onslaught.

Kael's lips curled into a cruel smile. In one fluid motion, he ceased the lightning and lunged forward, the crimson searing plasma finding the opening in Edwin's defense. There was a horrible sound—the distinctive hiss of a lightsaber piercing flesh—and Edwin's eyes went wide with shock.

"Always so noble," Kael whispered, twisting the hilt in his hand. "Just like your father."

Time came to a halt. Edric heard himself scream, but the sound felt distant, hollow, as if coming from someone else. His voice thundered through the chamber, ricocheting from alcove to alcove, but no amount of screaming could undo what had just happened. This can't be. It can't be real.

Edwin's lightsaber clattered to the ground, its green glow extinguishing. He swayed, his knees buckling as he looked at Edric and somehow—impossibly—he smiled. "I'm sorry, little brother," he managed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "It's up to you now. Protect our legacy."

Then Edwin Kane collapsed. Their bond in the Force, forged through blood and choice, snapped like a cord pulled too tight, the backlash sending fresh ripples of pain through Edric's mind. His brother's presence, once as steady as a mountain, flickered and faded like a dying star.

The chamber fell silent except for the low hum of Kael's weapon and the sound of Edric's own ragged breathing. Something inside him fractured. Then shattered—all the chains he put on himself, all the careful control, all the balance he had fought so hard to maintain. Until now. There was no point. Not anymore.

His arms shook violently, mouth trembling as if he was freezing. His muscles ached, veins bulged as every tiny fiber of muscle in his body tensed as if he would explode any moment. His heart hammered in his chest, almost bursting out from between his ribs. He wanted to tear Kael apart. Rip him to shreds with his bare hands. Make him suffer. Make him pay.

The Force answered. But it was different, responding to his grief, his rage, his pain. Nearby artifacts cracked, their ancient surfaces splitting under the pressure. The walls trembled. The ground groaned. The entire chamber felt like it might collapse beneath the gravity of his rage.

Something metallic slapped against his palm—Edwin's lightsaber, pulled to him by instinct alone. The moment his fingers closed around it, he felt the difference. His own yellow blade thrummed with familiar energy, an extension of his rage. But Edwin's saber... it pulsed with his brother's lingering presence, steady and calm even now. The green ignited beside his yellow one, their twin glow illuminating him in the darkness. When he lifted his gaze at Kael, Edric felt a fire in his eyes that burned with an intensity that made even the Inquisitor take a step back.

"Ah," Kael breathed, genuine satisfaction in his voice. "There you are."

Power surged through him, intoxicating and boundless, coiling serpentine around his limbs. The Dark Side embraced him with familiar hunger, whispering promises of vengeance. More, it beckoned. More. This wasn't the gentle current of the Force he knew—this was a torrent, raw and savage, demanding to be unleashed.

He gave in.

With a snarl, he launched forward, the ground beneath his boots cracking from the force of his leap. His twin blades became streaks of gold and emerald, piercing through the air with relentless fury. Each strike was a hammer blow, fueled by the seething power coursing through him. His former master barely kept pace, Kael's every parry met with a counterattack even faster, even stronger.

More.

Every swing, every strike—it wasn't just a duel anymore. It was a punishment. His muscles burned, but not of exhaustion—but of hunger. Each attack fed the storm inside him, stoking the fire into an uncontrollable blaze. He wanted so much more. More speed. More power. More destruction.

Kael's movements, once so calculated, now felt slower. Weaker. His defenses were crumbling, his footwork faltering.

Edric was stronger. Stronger than Kael. Stronger than anyone in the galaxy. The Dark Side told him, so it had to be true. How foolish he had been, hiding behind insecurity, behind fear, behind the teachings of the Jedi. He had spent his whole life shackled, denying all this power.

But not anymore.

He was power. And Kael Asher would break beneath it.

"Yes!" Kael's voice carried a note of triumph even as he gave ground. "Use your anger! Let it fuel you!"

The words faded into background noise. Edric pressed forward, his blades becoming a blur, his primal grunts accompanying every blow. One of his strikes caught Kael's shoulder, singing the fabric of his dark robes. Another nearly took his head. The chamber itself seemed to pulse with his rage, artifacts trembling in their alcoves, shadows writhing against the walls.

He pushed his former master back until he had to roll to the side as Edric brought down his sabers in a sweeping arc. He destroyed an artifact with the blow, its pieces scattering in front of him. The smooth surface glinted the light of his two weapons, pulling in his gaze.

He saw his own reflection that stopped him cold. Face twisted with hatred, eyes burning with an all-too-familiar amber fire. The same fire he had seen in Kael's eyes. The same darkness he had fought all along. He looked just like the version of himself from his visions—the one consumed by his rage and power.

What am I doing?

The thought cut through his blind rampage like sunlight through dispelling clouds. Memories flooded in: Edwin's patient guidance during their sparring sessions, his subtle smiles, the way he had helped Edric find balance in the Force. His touch soothing away his darkness when they met. His brother hadn't sacrificed himself so Edric could fall. He had died protecting what he loved, to give him another chance at protecting their legacy.

More memories came: Max's gruff laughter and costly fatherly advice, Sid's enthusiasm upon finding Ram Jomaram's toolkit, Lyra's scent as they hugged, her touch sending shivers up his spine every time. The family he had found, the love he had embraced despite everything the galaxy had thrown at him. Even the pain of loss was proof of that love—a reminder that light could exist alongside darkness without being consumed by it.

His eyes stung, tears welling up as the world blurred, his face smearing hot as the streaks rab down his cheeks. He let them fall, let himself feel the sadness, the disappointment and the love he had for all the people in his life. On the other hand, the power of the Dark Side was nothing, but an illusion. The Force flowed through him differently now, neither light nor dark, but something inbetween. Balanced. Like the grass on Dantooine, bending with the wind rather than fighting against it.

"No," Edric said quietly, his voice steady despite the tears on his cheeks. "This isn't me."

"Fool!" Kael snarled, launching into a savage assault. "You're throwing away everything I taught you!"

Edric held up the blades to block Kael's initial attack, then met each strike with a calm parry, letting his grief and love flow through him without letting either control him. The holocron in its containment field began to pulse, its edges glowing with an otherworldly light.

"You taught me more than you know," Edric replied, parrying another blow. It hurt to see Master Asher like this. "You taught me what happens when we let fear drive us. When we try to control everything instead of accepting balance."

The holocron's light intensified, casting strange patterns across the chamber. As their blades locked once more, Edric felt something shift in the Force—like reality itself was holding its breath.

"The holocron," Kael breathed, his eyes widening. "It's—"

The light exploded outward, enveloping them both. The last thing Edric saw was the holocron floating free of its containment field, its surface shimmering with unknown colors. Then everything—the chamber, Kael, even his own body—dissolved into pure light.

When his senses returned, they came back wrong. Up and down lost meaning. His stomach lurched as gravity seemed to pull in all directions at once. The void pressed against his skin like a physical thing, and for a terrifying moment, he wasn't sure if he was floating or falling. Only gradually did his mind adjust to this impossible space. He blinked several times, his vision clearing to reveal a vast canvas of space above him. Stars pulsed in the distance, flickering like heartbeats in the infinite blackness. He was lying on his back.

Slowly, he rolled onto his feet—only to find himself standing on something that shouldn't exist. Pathways of light stretched out in every direction, suspended in the void, weaving and intersecting like luminous threads of a cosmic tapestry. Some arced gently into infinity, others stretched as vast celestial highways, endless and unbroken. He couldn't see where any of them led, only that they reached far beyond sight, vanishing into the great abyss.

"Welcome, Edric Kane."

The voice came from behind him. He turned swiftly, instinct bracing him for a fight—only to pause.

A figure stood before him, wrapped in flowing robes of beige and orange. He was tall and lean, his posture at once commanding and serene. His head was shaven, his almond-shaped, brown eyes deep and knowing, and when he spoke again, his voice carried through the space as though it came from everywhere and nowhere at once. "I am Aren. We have much to discuss."

The name struck a chord in Edric's mind—familiar but distant, like something from an old holocron recording. And then realization hit him. One of the brothers from the legend. The one who had created the holocron and locked his spirit to it as protection. A thought chilled him. Was he inside it, somehow? His grip tightened, but there was nothing to hold. His lightsaber was gone. Edwin's lightsaber was gone.

"Where am I? What happened to Master Asher?" His voice came out sharper than he intended, laced with confusion and lingering desperation.

Aren only smiled—soft, patient, knowing. "It's alright, Edric. You do not have to worry."

He gestured for Edric to follow, turning with effortless grace.

Edric hesitated, glancing down. The path beneath him shimmered, its slight blue glow barely solid, more like light gathered to form than something tangible. Through its transparent surface, he saw nothing but the endless sprawl of stars beneath his feet. As he took a cautious step forward, ripples spread outward, the surface more light than substance, as if the path itself reacted to his presence.

He swallowed and forced himself to move, each step measured as he followed Aren into the unknown.

"This is the World Between Worlds," Aren explained, glancing at Edric with a knowing smile. There was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"The World Between Worlds," Edric repeated, his voice barely a whisper. "The gateway to all realities, the place to change the past."

Aren nodded, his robes gently swaying as they walked. "Look," he said, gesturing to their right.

A circular window-like portal materialized in the void in front of them. Aren stepped through and gestured to Edric to follow. They were on the bridge of a Star Destroyer, the air almost suffocating in there. The Force was in a deep chasm, dark without a hope for light. Edric saw himself standing beside Kael—but not as he was now. This version of him wore dark robes, his eyes burning with the same amber fire as his former master, face and scalp scarred, expression in a constant snarl. Together, they stood aboard a Star Destroyer's bridge, watching as Imperial ships laid waste to a world below.

"One path," Aren said softly. "The one your master hopes you'll choose. Where anger becomes strength, and strength becomes power. But that power only brings suffering."

Another portal opened to their left and Aren crossed over with Edric still in tow. This time, Edric was clad in Jedi robes, standing in the Temple beside a healthy, whole Kael Asher. Both fell defending younglings as clone troopers stormed the halls during Order 66. He felt his own fear, the need to save the lives of so many that were only starting.

"Another path," Aren continued. "The life you might have lived, had you stayed true to the Jedi way."

"What's the point of showing me these if I shouldn't change them?" Edric asked, his voice tight. "I couldn't save Edwin, or my father, or—"

"No," Aren agreed. "But you can understand why they were willing to die for what they believed in." He stopped walking, turning to face Edric fully. The scene shifted around them, and they stood once again on an endless pathway, the two portals on each side, a window to different choices made. "Tell me, what do you see in these possibilities?"

Edric studied the gateways, each showing different versions of himself. "They're all... extremes. Either I fall completely to darkness or..." He trailed off, understanding beginning to dawn.

"Or cling so tightly to the light that you blind yourself to another truth," Aren finished, nodding. "My brother Vorn and I learned this lesson too late. The Force isn't about choosing sides, Edric. It's about understanding that both light and dark exist within us—within all things."

"Balance," Edric breathed.

"Yes. Not exactly as the Jedi saw it, not as the Sith corrupted it, but true balance. The kind that comes from accepting all parts of yourself while remaining true to your core." Aren waved his hand, and the portals shifted, showing more glimpses: a world where Order 66 did not come to pass, where Edric was a wise Jedi master with a long beard, sitting in the Council. Then another shift, where he helped people on different worlds together with the rest of the Kane family. A place where he wasn't given to the Jedi Order as a baby.

"The holocron," Edric said. "That's why it can only be opened by someone who understands that."

"I've watched you for a long time, Edric Kane. From here," Aren explained, his hands waving around the void that showed scenes from Edric's early years. The ancient spirit smiled. "The power to reshape reality is far too great for those who would use it to enforce one side over the other. That's why we've created the safeguards, why we've chosen your family to protect it."

Edric closed his eyes, saw himself as a small boy in the Temple, struggling to keep up with the other younglings, yet rising every time he fell. The countless hours spent training while others rested, his determination burning brighter than his doubts. He remembered the fighting pits of Coruscant's Underworld, where he learned to trust his strength rather than fear it. Max teaching him that failure wasn't weakness, but a step toward growth. Edwin showing him that balance wasn't about control, but acceptance.

"I always thought I wasn't enough," Edric said quietly. "Not strong enough in the Force, not disciplined enough to be a proper Jedi, not... pure enough to resist the darkness." He opened his eyes, meeting Aren's gentle gaze. "But that was the point, wasn't it? We're not meant to be perfect. We're meant to be just true to ourselves."

Aren's smile deepened. "Now you understand. Your struggles weren't your weakness, Edric—they were your strength. Every time you got back up, every moment of doubt you pushed through, every battle with your own darkness... they taught you what neither Jedi nor Sith truly grasp. That we are all of these things—light and dark, strong and weak, certain and doubting. It is not in denying these truths that we find power, but in embracing them."

"The frail boy who kept fighting," Edric said, his voice stronger now. "The Padawan who questioned. The bounty hunter who still tried to help others. Even now, facing Kael... all of these are part of who I am."

"And that," Aren said, "is why you could reach this place when so many others failed. Not because you mastered the Force, but because you finally learned to accept yourself—all of yourself. And that made you see the Force for what it is."

His expression grew serious. "But now I ask you, Edric Kane: Was it right to create our holocron?"

The question hung in the star-filled void between them. Edric thought of Kael, of how the mere possibility of such power had corrupted him. Of how many others might be tempted, might fall trying to claim it.

"No," he said finally. "No one should have this kind of power. Not even someone who understands balance."

Aren's smile widened. "And that, young one, is why you were worthy to enter this place." He gestured around them. "The Force will always have its mysteries, its deepest truths. But they shouldn't be contained, controlled. They should remain free, like the stars themselves."

"What happens now?" Edric asked.

"Now?" Aren's smile took on a sadder quality. "Now you understand the final truth about the holocron." He gestured to the vast expanse around them. "Many believe it contains directions to this place, a map to power beyond imagination. But the World Between Worlds cannot be reached only through coordinates or gateways."

"It's about the Force itself. About finding balance," Edric added without missing a beat. It made sense. He smiled despite everything.

"Yes. The holocron was never meant to be the master key—it was meant to be a piece. The World Between Worlds exists in the space between the Cosmic Force and the Living Force, in the perfect harmony of both. Only those who achieve that harmony within themselves can truly touch this realm—some might break in, try to wield its power forcefully through the Dark Side, but it will resist." Aren's form began to shimmer with inner light. "Your family protected this knowledge not because it led here, but because it taught the way."

"Then all of this..." Edric gestured to the paths of light around them, "Kael's quest for power..."

"Was always futile," Aren finished softly. "The very desire to control this place, to bend reality to one's will, makes it impossible to control for someone like him. That is the final safeguard—one written in the Force itself."

Behind Aren, something shimmered, figures slowly materializing. Edric quickly realized they were none other than his family, Doran, Edwin and a woman—their mother. They nodded at him with a silent smile. He heard their voices in his head, telling him how proud they all were.

"We're always with you," he heard them whisper at once.

The pathways around them began to fade, the starlight dimming. "Wait," Edric called out. "How do I stop Kael?"

"The same way you stopped yourself," Aren's voice echoed as reality began to blur. "Not through power or control, but through understanding. Show him what I've shown you—that there is always another way."

A star exploded nearby, its light blinding him until everything was white.

Edric was back in the dark chamber. In front of him Kael stood with his lightsaber still active, and the remains of the device that held the holocron.

The dream—the lifetime he had lived within it—was over. Something had changed forever inside the former Padawan.

The Force flowed around him, vast and limitless, and he could feel it with an ease as he never had before. Every ripple, every shifting current, every unseen pulse resonated through him, each a note in a grand symphony. The artifacts in the chamber trembled, caught in silent whirlwinds of energy. The Force surged within him and Kael alike—one a steady, luminous tide, the other a storm of chaos, both locked in an unrelenting push and pull like binary stars, gravity wells in the stretched canvas of space.

Beyond the walls, he sensed the battle raging outside. The Partisans pressed forward, their emotions spilling into the Force—exhilaration, relief, the electric thrill of victory as the fortress defenses crumbled. Their fight was nearly won.

Further still, he felt Prakith itself, the slow, deliberate rotation of the planet beneath his feet. The simmering pressure within the nearby volcanoes, waiting in restless slumber. Even the shyracks, deep within the caves below, nestled into uneasy sleep.

It was overwhelming. And yet, it was familiar. It was always in him, locked behind his doubts and his lack of faith. But not anymore. Not just seeing the world, but understanding it. Every thread of beauty and darkness, of life and death, woven into something far greater than himself. For the first time, he truly knew what it meant that the Force was with him.

Something crunched under his boot and he noticed the shattered pieces of the holocron on the floor beneath him.

"No! What did you do?!" Kael wailed as he saw what was left of the device. For a moment, Edric saw him in that bacta tank again, how isolated his master was and how nobody could hear his screams. Not even him. But he could see the man underneath—the one who had believed in him when no one else would. He had to repay the same kindness.

"It's not too late," Edric said softly, deactivating the two lightsabers in his hands. They vanished with a snap-hiss, leaving them in the crimson glow of Kael's weapon. "I understand now. What happened to you in that tank—the silence, the darkness, the isolation. How it felt like the whole galaxy had abandoned you. Including me."

Kael's expression flickered, something vulnerable passing across his features before the mask of rage slammed back into place. "You understand nothing," he snarled, but his voice wavered. "You left me there to rot!"

"I did," Edric admitted, tears welling in his eyes. "I was young, and scared, and lost without you. Every day I wished I could go back, change what happened. But that's not how the Force works—you taught me that once. You taught me that true strength wasn't in controlling things, but in understanding them."

"The man who taught you those things was weak," Kael spat, but his blade lowered slightly. "He didn't understand real power."

"No," Edric took a step forward, his voice stronger now. "He understood something I'm only beginning to grasp. That power isn't about light or dark—it's about balance. About accepting both without being consumed by either." Another step. "The man who showed me that path, who believed in me when I couldn't believe in myself... he's still in there. I can feel it."

Kael's hands trembled on his lightsaber hilt. "Even if he was... it's too late. The things I've done—"

"It's never too late to find balance again," Edric said, close enough now to see the tears in his former master's eyes. "I'm not the same boy who left you in that tank. And you don't have to be the same man who woke up in darkness."

"Edric..." Kael's voice cracked, the sound so painfully familiar it made Edric's chest tighten. For a moment, he saw his master as he once was—steady, wise, full of quiet vigor.

The red blade extinguished. "I just wanted to make things right." Kael's shoulders slumped as if some great weight had finally broken him. When he looked up, his eyes were no longer burning amber but their old, immensely tired brown.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "For everything. For failing you. For—" his voice caught as his gaze fell on Edwin's lifeless form.

"I know," Edric said softly, his own tears falling freely now. "I know."

Kael stepped forward, his hand rising toward Edric's face—a gesture so achingly familiar from countless training sessions. Something shifted in Kael's eyes—not darkness returning, but fear. Fear of forgiveness, of having to live with what he had done. His hand trembled as it reached for Edric, caught between embrace and destruction. A shadow passed across his features, a final surge of darkness clouding his eyes once more with a flame. He ignited his blade again, lunging forward.

Edric's lightsaber moved purely on instinct, muscle memory born from years of training under this very man. His yellow blade caught Kael in the chest, and their eyes met one final time. The amber glow faded completely, leaving only warm brown eyes—the eyes of the master who had believed in him so long ago.

"Thank you," Kael whispered, a peaceful smile touching his lips. "For bringing me back to the light... my Padawan."

As Kael's body crumpled, Edric caught him, cradling his former master as his own tears fell onto the face of the man who had been both his greatest teacher and his greatest trial. In the Force, he felt Kael's presence fade not into darkness, but into light.

The elevator doors hissed open behind him. He sensed Lyra's presence before he saw her, along with several others—their emotions a mix of triumph and exhaustion. But something was wrong. The Force whispered a warning, that familiar cold sensation creeping up his spine again. It was a sharp contrast at the relief of seeing, feeling her presence.

"Edric?" Lyra's voice was tight, controlled. Too controlled. He turned slowly, his heart already sinking. Four Partisan fighters filed into the chamber behind her, their weapons still drawn, faces grim. But Max wasn't among them.

"Where's Max?" The words caught in his throat as the cold sensation intensified. He already knew the answer—could feel it in the way Lyra wouldn't quite meet his eyes, in the way the Force seemed to shudder around the question.

"Edric, I—" Lyra started, but the rest of her words faded beneath the roar in his ears as another vision gripped him: the steady hum of life support machines, the familiar bubbling of bacta, and a presence that flickered like a candle in the wind…