Chapter 19 - Kael

Almost two years ago…

Kael Asher opened his eyes to nothing. No light, no shadow. Just an infinite void that pressed against his consciousness. He tried to move his head, searching for any point of reference, a distant star, a faint glow, anything to orient himself in this endless dark. Am I blind? The thought drifted through his mind like smoke. No. No, this was something else entirely.

He could feel his body, at least—arms, chest, legs—but everything felt wrong, distant, as though his awareness was barely tethered to his physical form. The sensation of weightlessness was disorienting, like drifting in the cosmos, cut loose from any anchor to reality.

Kael attempted to focus, but his brain was scrambled like leaves in a storm, thoughts and memories whizzing back and forth like the airspeeders in the sky above Coruscant. Forcing his eyes closed, he willed them in order, one at a time. Tried to reach out to the Force to sense anything, a presence, a ripple, a compass of where he was or what was happening to him.

There was but silence, an eerie quiet in the universe. He drew in what he thought would be a steadying breath, but the deep inhale only flooded his lungs with a liquid. Searing pain shot through his chest, burning his insides. He screamed, but no sound left his mouth, only… bubbles?

I'm floating in a liquid, he deduced. That was some progress at least. The nothingness gave no confirmation, so he did the next item on his checklist. How did I get here? Even the question made his nerves twitch his body, a panic erupting out of him without warning. There was a name on the tip of his tongue, like he forgot what he was about to do when arriving in a room.

Tarnos…

The moment the memory surfaced, the void cracked. Sound flooded in—the sharp report of blaster fire, the desperate shouts of clone troopers, the soul-chilling whir of battle droid servos. The blackness flickered, as if lightning was hiding behind stormy clouds. A voice cut through it all, young and terrified: "Master!"

Edric. His Padawan.

Then came a whiplash and he was back to the confines of his, without flickers, without voices.

Was he… one with the Force? That couldn't be either, it wouldn't be like this. Or would it? There were many theories, many reports of Jedi who briefly became one with the Force and came back. He had read countless of those accounts describing communion with the Force after death. Masters spoke of peace, of understanding, of becoming part of something greater. This was... isolation. Imprisonment. He was trapped between heartbeats, strung up in that fragile space between life and death. His injuries from Tarnos must have been severe enough to leave him in this limbo, this nowhere-place that existed outside of time itself.

Throughout his years of training and teaching, he had never felt so completely alone. He tried to move, to swim, to find some way to orient himself in the nothingness. His limbs responded, but sluggishly, as if moving through honey. His hands twitched with minds of their own, and deep, throbbing pain pulsed through his ribs and legs. Without any point of reference, each movement only served to disorient him further, his stomach churning with vertigo.

The effort of moving drained him completely. Deep exhaustion settled over him, heavier than any meditation trance he'd experienced in his years as a Jedi. Even floating in the void, his body felt like it was being pulled down by an impossible weight. I should rest, he thought distantly, as consciousness began to slip away. Sleep reached for him with gentle fingers, and this time, he let it take him.

When awareness returned, his old friend the darkness was still there, but something had shifted. His feet found purchase on solid ground, or what counted as ground in this forsaken place. His body responded as it should, no longer floating in that strange suspension. He paced in widening circles, one hand stretched out, hoping to brush against some hidden fence, to find an edge to this endless stage. Maybe it was all just an illusion, a black curtain he could pull aside if he only found its hem. But no matter how far he walked, the barrier remained absolute, unrelenting.

Finally, he settled into a cross-legged position, falling into the familiar posture of meditation that had centered him countless times before. At first, the Force remained as silent as ever, an absence that ached like a missing limb. But then—a whisper. A presence so faint he might have imagined it, yet his heart leaped in recognition. A voice drifted through the ether, distorted and distant, like trying to tune an old comm unit through atmospheric interference.

Kael frowned, concentrating with everything he had, reaching through the Force toward that familiar signature. Slowly, painfully, the words began to take shape: "...should have protected you."

The pain in those words made his chest tighten. Oh, Edric. His Padawan's guilt was a tangible thing, even in his mind. He wanted to reach out, to tell the boy it wasn't his fault, that he shouldn't shoulder this burden. He knew how Edric worked, how he would turn this over and over, wearing himself down with self-recrimination. It was just the will of the Force, as cruel and mysterious as it had always been.

But the void swallowed his thoughts before they could become words, leaving him once again alone with the knowledge that somewhere, beyond this dimension, his Padawan was suffering, and he was powerless to help.

Time lost its meaning in this Force-forsaken world. Kael drifted in and out of awareness, his world alternating between floating weightless and finding phantom ground beneath his feet. Meditation, once as natural as breathing, now felt like being trapped in a durasteel box—one with hairline cracks that offered teasing glimpses of the outside world but remained fundamentally confining. What terrified him most was the lack of progress. If he was in a bacta tank, as he suspected, shouldn't there be some improvement? Some sign of healing?

One day—or what passed for a day in this timeless place—chatter filtered through his consciousness, clear enough to make out words. The distinctive tone of Master Windu reached him first, followed by Master Plo Koon's resonant timbre.

"His condition shows no improvement," Windu was saying, his tone heavy with what might have been concern, or perhaps resignation. "The damage was... extensive."

"Perhaps," Plo Koon replied carefully, "it would be kinder to let him become one with the Force."

"His questioning of our role in this war, his criticism of the Council's decisions..." Windu's words trailed off meaningfully. "Maybe the Force has shown us its will in this matter."

The implications of their words stung like betrayal. They were discussing letting him die as if commenting on the weather, cloaking their politics in platitudes about the Force's will. Anger stirred in the pit of his stomach, an unfamiliar heat that felt almost... welcoming. He let it go, just as he had done countless times as a Jedi.

Force-knows how long after that, he sat cross-legged again, attempting to center himself. Yoda's teachings about "do or do not" echoed mockingly in his mind, but what was there to connect with in this emptiness? The Force remained present but distant, like trying to eat soup with a fork. The familiar energy that had once flowed through him like a gentle river was now barely a trickle. What can I do to prevent it from slipping away entirely?

He developed a routine, if such a thing could exist in this placeless space. Meditate, attempt to heal himself, try to pierce the veil between his cage and the outside world. Most attempts ended in failure, but he persisted, hoping that perhaps the walls just needed enough battering to crack. Sometimes he caught glimpses—medical droids performing their programmed duties, occasional visitors passing through. And then there was Edric.

His Padawan's presence became a lifeline, something to anticipate in the endless dark, even though each visit brought fresh pain. He could hear only fragments of Edric's words, but the boy's confusion and doubt rang clear as bells. Even before Tarnos, Kael had noticed his apprentice's growing uncertainty. Truth be told, he shared those doubts and perhaps it stuck on Edric because of him. The Order had lost its way, becoming generals instead of peacekeepers, politicians instead of guardians. The Council sat in their tower, making decisions about life and death while people suffered in the real world. And while other apprentices became arrogant and all too sure of themselves, Edric instead retreated further into his shell.

The anger that had sparked at hearing the Masters ignited in Kael again, feeding on these bitter thoughts. It offered much needed warmth in the cold, like a campfire on a winter night. And increasingly, Kael found himself wondering if perhaps this anger wasn't wrong at all…

Through the darkness, Edric's presence suddenly bloomed stronger than ever before, helping Kael find his footing again. For the first time, he could hear his Padawan's words with perfect clarity, though they reached him as if through deep water.

"Hey, Master. It's me again."

Kael's heart clenched at the forced lightness in Edric's voice. He could picture his Padawan perfectly—standing before the bacta tank, probably scratching the back of his neck as he always did when uncomfortable. The boy tried to keep his tone casual, talking about training droids and accidents, but Kael knew him too well. Could hear the strain beneath the attempted humor.

"I've been spending a lot of time in the archives too. As you would say, 'knowledge of past mistakes and solutions can be the difference between saving lives and losing them'."

I'm right here, Edric, Kael wanted to shout. He sensed his Padawan reaching out through the Force, searching for their connection. But the environment seemed to swallow every attempt at contact, leaving only that maddening emptiness between them. The frustration built inside him like a gathering storm.

Then Edric's voice cracked: "Master, I don't know what to do. I feel so lost without you. The Council's decisions, the war... It all feels wrong."

This was his Padawan—his student, his responsibility—drowning in doubt and confusion while he floated helplessly in this prison of darkness. He could make out Edric's pain, his uncertainty, his growing disillusionment. It mirrored Kael's own doubts about the Order, about their role in this war, but hearing them from Edric made them sharper, more urgent. He would put a hand on his shoulders and tell him that it would work out. Maybe the young boy would believe him, or maybe he would want more.

"I don't know if I can do this without you. Or that I want to do it anymore."

No! Kael's mind screamed into the void. He threw himself against the barriers of his confines, willing himself to wake, to move, to give any sign that he was still here. The non-existing door never budged. His chest heaved with the pressure of a tempest confined, winds threatening to rip him apart from the inside—at his own helplessness, at the Council for their complacency, at the Force itself for trapping him here. He took a grounding inhale to let it go, but his new friend around him weighed down on him, making it more of a struggle than any of his years as a Jedi.

"I'll come back tomorrow, Master."

Edric's presence began to fade, leaving Kael alone with his fury. The Council would let him rot here, would let Edric lose his way, all while spouting platitudes about the Force's will. His anger was a comfort now, the only warmth in his universe. It whispered of power, of breaking free, of making things right by any means necessary. Maybe it would finally break these damn walls too.

The more time passed, the harder it became to hold on to the fragments of himself that were still … real. Kael's hands twitched involuntarily as he sat cross-legged, his mind spinning webs of dark, tangled scenarios that looped endlessly in his head. Every time he tried to quell those thoughts, they sprang back up like weeds that couldn't be uprooted, choking out any slivers of calm he tried to cultivate.

He'd once considered himself a patient man, but this—this existence was far worse than any secluded meditation. In the void of his prison, there was nothing. Nothing to see, nothing to feel, no textures or scents to anchor him. The only link to reality came from the faint echoes of voices from the outside world, drifting in and out like ghostly whispers. Was this how people went mad? It certainly felt like it.

He tried to reassure himself that his body would heal, that this purgatory was temporary, but the lack of sensation, of even a heartbeat, gnawed at him. Occasionally, panic surged, a wild, animalistic terror that made his skin—if it could even be called skin—prickle with cold sweat. Becoming one with the Force was supposed to be an honor, the ultimate peace. But there was a primitive part of his brain that rebelled, the part that clawed and screamed to survive no matter the cost. And that part… it was beginning to have a different perspective. Sense another side of the Force.

Then… Edric's presence shone through the cracks again. Kael could almost see it, his hand near him, reaching out. He tried to grab it, but it was as if his own hands just passed through his. There was a shift in the boy's demeanor however, and it made Kael's heart leap again, a flash that sent a buzz throughout his non-body. No. Not you too. Please, Edric, he pleaded. Then he heard it: Edric's voice, wavering and quiet, but clear.

"Master, I wanted to say goodbye."

Goodbye? This couldn't be happening. He could hear the tremor in Edric's voice, feel his conflicted emotions radiating through the darkness.

"The Order... it's not what I thought it was. It's not what you taught me it should be."

A bitter, manic laugh tried to escape Kael's throat, but like everything else, it remained trapped. How right Edric was, the Order had strayed so far from what it should have been. He had tried to show Edric the path of a true Jedi, to preserve the purity of the ideals he himself had long ago cherished. And where had it led? Here, to this damn place, helpless and with everyone giving up on him, including his own Padawan.

"I'm going to find my own path, Master. I might not become a Jedi Knight as you intended. But I promise I'll make you proud, somehow."

Don't leave, Kael wanted to scream. Wake up, you fool! Wake up! He hurled himself against the barriers of his consciousness, trying to force his way back to awareness. But the darkness held firm, and he remained a helpless observer as his Padawan prepared to walk away. It pushed Kael down from the edge of a cliff, falling into a trench that seemed never ending. Let the shadows come, he thought. That's all I have left.

Time ceased to have meaning. The darkness became his companion, his tormentor, his only constant in a world that had abandoned him. His thoughts spiraled in ever-tightening circles, each loop drawing him deeper into a pit of rage and despair. The Council's indifference, Edric's abandonment, their betrayal and the corruption of everything he'd once believed in—they festered like open wounds, feeding something darker that grew stronger with each passing moment. There had to be a way to change all this for the better.

He remembered a message he found besides the baby Edric when he took him to the Temple. A holo from his true father, speaking of being protectors of artifacts with unthinkable power. The fool hoped the Jedi would one day give it to Edric, but of course, that was forbidden. Kael pondered once if it would have been the right gift for when Edric became a Knight. Instead, he made his own holocron. Edric… the boy who also left him, the only person he thought was loyal. It made his blood boil.

Without warning, the Force screamed.

The sound tore through Kael like a blade of pure agony. He felt thousands of lights suddenly snuffed out, each death a tear in the fabric of the Force itself. The nothingness around him writhed and pulsed, as if feeding on the chaos that erupted across the galaxy. Through the maelstrom, he caught fragments of voices outside—urgent, panicked, but too distant to make out clearly.

The Force, once a gentle river, became a raging torrent. It flooded through every crack in his mental fortification, offering power, offering revenge, offering freedom. And for the first time since his confinement, Kael didn't try to resist its call.

How long he drifted in this new place, he couldn't say. But eventually, he detected... something else. A presence, vast and terrible, reached into his fortress with the power of a battering ram. It moved through his mind like black smoke, methodically dismantling the walls of his consciousness. The void that had held him captive for so long began to crack, shards of darkness falling away like broken glass.

Sensation returned in a rush—the burn of bacta in his lungs, the ache of muscles long dormant, the harsh glare of light against his closed eyelids. His eyes snapped open, and through the blue haze of the tank, he saw a figure standing before him. Even through the distortion of the bacta, he could feel the Dark Side radiating from the presence like heat from a furnace. It was as if Kael smelled the most delicious meal, making him almost drool for it.

"Welcome back, Master Asher," a voice echoed in his mind. "The Empire has need of your services."

The Empire?

Machinery clicked and whirred around him, the bacta draining away like a receding tide. Light assaulted his eyes, an overwhelming amount of regained senses. Every muscle screamed in protest, a thousand needles pricking beneath his skin. The bacta had kept his body from wasting away, but his limbs were like lead weights, heavy with disuse.

His knees buckled as gravity reclaimed him, his body crumpling to the bottom of the tank. The lid hissed open above him, and medical droids lifted him with mechanical efficiency. As his vision slowly adjusted, details of the figure before him emerged from the blur—pale skin, sharp features, yellow eyes burning with power. A Pau'an. Recognition dawned like a cold sunrise: a Temple Guard, one he'd passed countless times in the halls of the Temple.

The medical droids draped a robe over Kael's shoulders as he fought to keep his balance. Each breath burned in his lungs, a reminder of how long he'd been between life and death.

"It seems the Council's... neglect of your condition was more calculated than we realized," the former Temple Guard said, his voice carrying a note of false sympathy. "Tell me, Master Asher, do you know why they were so quick to abandon you to this fate?"

Kael's focus sharpened at the words, cutting through the fog of awakening. The man circled him slowly, like a nexu stalking wounded prey.

"The Jedi's corruption ran deeper than any of us imagined. While you floated here, stripped of your dignity, they plotted against the very Republic they claimed to serve." He paused, letting his words sink in. "An assassination attempt on the Chancellor himself—now our Emperor. Such... ambition from those who preached humility and peace."

Each word struck a chord with Kael's darkest suspicions. Hadn't he seen their hypocrisy firsthand? Their willingness to compromise their principles for political convenience?

"Order 66 was necessary, a surgical strike to excise the cancer before it could spread further." The Pau'an's voice dropped lower, almost intimate. "You know I speak the truth. You've felt it yourself, haven't you? Their corruption? Their willingness to discard those who questioned their doctrine?"

Kael remained silent, but his hands clenched at his sides. The Dark Side pulsed around him like a second heartbeat.

"The Emperor sees your potential, Master Asher. The strength the Council feared, the vision they tried to suppress." The Inquisitor's yellow eyes peered into his very soul. "He offers you what they never could. Freedom from their lies. A chance to forge a new order, one unconstrained by ancient hypocrisies."

His hand moved to the circular hilt at his belt. "The choice, of course, is yours. Join us in building something greater than the Jedi ever dreamed possible... or remain loyal to the very Order that left you to rot in this tank. Choose wisely."

Kael locked eyes with him, and he somehow let himself believe the words. They rang true after all this time, after everything he had seen and been through. Then, he recalled the message from Edric's father, of a power that could change the galaxy at its core. Maybe… he could get that power to himself using the resources this new Empire might have.

Kael straightened, drawing on newfound strength as he let the Dark Side in, coursing through him. His voice, rough from disuse, carried the weight of his conviction. "The Jedi Order is dead to me. As it should be to the galaxy."

A cruel smile spread across the Pau'an's face. "Then kneel, Master Asher, and rise as something greater."

As Kael dropped to one knee, the Inquisitor ignited his lightsaber, its crimson blade casting bloody shadows across the medbay floor. "I, the Grand Inquisitor, hereby welcome to you in the ranks of the Inquisitorius. And you shall be known as..." The blade hovered near Kael's shoulders, an echo of the knighting ceremony he'd once held sacred. "The First Brother."

In that moment, as the red blade cast its bloody light across the medbay, Kael let the last barriers within him crumble. The Dark Side he'd held at bay for so long rushed in like black smoke, snuffing out everything the Jedi had taught him and reshaping it into something harder, darker, stronger. His connection to the Force transformed, now it roared through him like molten steel, burning away doubt and weakness. The Light that had guided him for decades flickered and died, like stars being devoured by a black hole. And in that void, he found a terrible clarity.

This was what power felt like. This was what true freedom tasted like. The galaxy itself seemed to bend around him as the Dark Side claimed him fully, filling every muscle in his being until the man known as Kael Asher was consumed, replaced by something far more terrible and magnificent. When he opened his eyes, he could feel them burn with the same amber fire as the Inquisitor's, reflecting not just acceptance of his new path, but hunger for what lay ahead.

Yes, this would do. This would give him what he needed to find that relic the older Kane spoke of. That could reshape everything. He would make the galaxy what it should have been, with or without the Jedi's or the Emperor's approval. A smile tugged at his lips.

"Come," the Grand Inquisitor said, extinguishing his blade. "There is much work to be done. The Emperor awaits."

End of Part 2