The Ebon Hawk was a war zone. Not the kind with blaster fire and Sith troopers—but the kind where six people who had spent way too much time together in a confined space all tried to get out the door at the same time.

"Hang'n a minuff," Carth mumbled around his toothbrush, spitting into the sink just as Seth shoved him sideways to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the refresher's tiny mirror.

"We do not have time!" Bastila's voice rang through the ship like a blaring siren, full of righteous fury. "The ceremony starts in twenty minutes! And if we aren't ten minutes early, the Council may as well consider us late."

"Are they gonna start without him?" Mission asked, smirking as she threw her boots onto the dejarik table and leaned back with her hands behind her head. "This whole thing runs on Seth's timetable."

"If we're lucky, they start without him, and we can skip this whole thing," Canderous grumbled. He was seated with his legs stretched out and a cigarra clamped between his teeth, watching the madness unfold like a casual spectator. "Don't see why the Jedi need a ceremony for every damn thing. Just give him a rank and be done with it."

Bastila stormed into the hold, half her hair up, the other half still loose, gripping her datapad like it was a deadly weapon. "Because, Canderous, the Jedi Order upholds tradition." She tried yet another bun, then immediately undid it again.

Canderous rolled his eyes. "Yeah? What tradition is that? Spending twenty minutes on a hairstyle no one cares about?"

Bastila turned her full wrath on him. "Excuse me?"

Mission cackled from the sidelines. "Canderous, I'm actually kinda impressed—you have a death wish."

Meanwhile, Seth was drowning in fabric. The Jedi robes they'd given him were at least three sizes too big, and he was yanking at the sleeves in frustration as he examined himself in the refresher mirror.

"They didn't have anything smaller?" he called out.

Bastila didn't even look up. "What could have possibly changed between now and the last time you asked that question?"

Seth glanced at the excess fabric dragging on the floor and muttered, "Maybe someone stumbled across a surplus of properly sized Jedi robes."

Bastila finally looked up at him—and her expression was venomous.

"But these are great!" Seth amended quickly, tugging at the robe collar with an unconvincing smile. "They work! Really great."

Carth re-entered the hold, now dressed and ready, shaking his head at the madness. "Seth, how the hell do you take longer to get ready than Mission?"

"Mission doesn't have hair!" Seth shot back. "That's half the battle, and you know it!"

Canderous smirked. "I've said it before and I'll say it again. Teaching boys to primp and posture is about all they know how to do in a Republic Military Academy."

Carth narrowed his eyes. "At least we don't charge into battle screaming about glory like a bunch of lunatics."

Canderous laughed darkly, blowing out a stream of smoke. "Hey, at least we win."

"Are you guys seriously doing this right now?" Seth snapped, gesturing down at the oversized robes swallowing his entire body. "Can someone focus on the real problem?"

"No," said everyone.

Bastila, looking satisfied with Bun Attempt number twenty-three, clapped her hands. "Enough! We're leaving. Now."

Seth sighed. "Perfect. Let's go make history."

The Dantooine Council Chambers were the polar opposite of the chaos that had consumed the Ebon Hawk. It was silent, still, solemn. The weight of the moment pressed against Seth's chest as he knelt before Master Vandar, hands resting on his thighs, his breath steady but tense.

The Jedi Master raised his emerald lightsaber, the glow illuminating the young man's face as the blade hovered just over each of Seth's shoulders. "With this blade, we recognize you as a student of the Jedi Order," Vandar intoned. "Rise, Padawan."

Seth stood, heart hammering. He was no longer a Republic soldier. No longer a private.

Now, he was a Jedi.

He wasn't sure if he liked it.

Before he could dwell too much on the gravity of it all, Master Vrook stepped forward, his arms crossed. "Now that this formality is finished, we have more pressing matters."

Seth resisted the urge to sigh. Of course.

Vandar gestured to the group. "Your visions, Padawan Avery, seem to have led us to a location here on Dantooine. Once believed to be burial mounds, we now suspect they may be something more."

Seth and Bastila exchanged a look. The place from their dreams.

"We sent another Padawan to investigate," Master Zhar added, voice heavy. "He has not returned. We'd like you to continue his investigation where he left off."

Bastila straightened immediately. "We'll uncover the truth, Master.."

Seth exhaled slowly. He'd just been knighted, and they were already sending him on a mission another Jedi hadn't come back from.

"Wonderful," he muttered. "Let's go get ourselves killed."

The plains of Dantooine stretched wide around them, golden grass bending beneath the breeze, sky endless above. It should have been peaceful. But the closer they got to the ruins, the heavier the air became. Seth felt it settle on his chest like a weight. The same suffocating presence that had lurked at the edges of his nightmares. The place ahead wasn't just some ancient monument. It was something else.

Something wrong.

He glanced at Bastila. She was stiff, eyes fixed ahead, walking with the same measured pace she always did—but he knew better. Her shoulders were squared too tightly, her jaw locked just a fraction too hard.

She felt it too.

"Something's off," he muttered under his breath.

Bastila didn't deny it. But she didn't confirm it either. "Jedi follow orders, not emotions."

Seth scoffed. "That's real easy to say when you're—" He stopped himself.

Her gray eyes flicked to him, sharp and expectant.

"When you're what?" she pressed.

Seth exhaled. She was having the nightmares too. He didn't need their Force bond to know that. But she handled them differently. Instead of questioning them, she bottled them up, convinced herself they meant nothing beyond the Council's orders.

"You're just as on edge as I am," he said quietly. "Don't pretend otherwise."

Bastila didn't answer right away. But after a moment, she exhaled sharply. "It doesn't matter how we feel about this, Seth. It's already happening. The only thing we can do now is be ready for what we find."

He frowned. That wasn't reassuring.

Mission, clearly picking up on the tension, broke in with a smirk. "Come on, Hotshot. It's just some old burial site. What's the worst that could be in there?" She nudged him playfully. "Dead guys?"

Seth huffed, shaking his head. "I know that was a joke, but honestly? That'd be preferable."

Zaalbar let out a low, rumbling growl. "[There is something unnatural here.]"

The Wookiee wasn't Force-sensitive, but even he could feel it. The unspoken, unseen something that had crawled out of Seth's nightmares and into real life. The wind picked up. The ruins loomed ahead, stone and shadow against the sun. The entrance was massive, ancient, waiting.

Seth's hands clenched at his sides. His pulse was quickening.

This was it.

The place from his dreams.

His nightmares.

He turned to Bastila, lowering his voice. "I'm not so sure about this."

Bastila met his gaze—and for a split second, the mask cracked.

Her lips parted, just slightly. A flicker of doubt, of something unspoken, flashed across her face.

But then it was gone.

She squared her shoulders and forced the uncertainty away. "It's not a question of whether you're sure," she said simply.

He swallowed hard, but nevertheless stepped up beside her to face the ominous structure. The massive stone doors groaned open, ancient dust spilling into the air as Seth and Bastila stretched their hands forward, guiding the Force into the mechanisms. The weight of centuries pressed down on them.

Seth swallowed against the tightness in his chest. He had seen this place before—felt it in his dreams.

Now, he was walking into it.

The moment he crossed the threshold, something inside him lurched. A deep, guttural pull, like a hook sinking into his ribs.

A spike of unease shot down his spine. Beside him, Bastila stiffened. She felt it too.

Mission, oblivious to the shift, squinted into the dimly lit passage ahead. "Yeah, okay. Not loving the vibe here."

Carth let out a sharp exhale. "Feels like we just stepped into a tomb."

He wasn't wrong.

The hallway stretched ahead, vast and eerily silent. Jagged engravings marked the walls, winding into patterns that Seth almost recognized—but not quite. The air hung thick with something old, untouched. It felt like history had been waiting for them to arrive.

Bastila's voice was quiet. "This place… there's power here."

Seth's fingers curled slightly, brushing the hilt of his lightsaber. "Yeah. And I don't think it's friendly."

They moved forward, the eerie quiet amplifying every footstep. The deeper they walked, the more Seth's pulse quickened.

A part of him knew what was ahead. Not from memory. From something else.

Carth's eyes flicked around the chamber warily. "Anyone else getting the feeling that we're being watched?"

Seth exhaled slowly. "Oh, yeah. Definitely."

Mission shivered. "Awesome. Love that."

Then they reached the central chamber.

Seth froze.

There, seated in the middle of the vast room, was a hulking, rusted droid. Four massive legs, its metal frame half-buried in dust.

It wasn't moving.

But the moment Seth laid eyes on it, a sharp, splintering wave of déjà vu crashed over him. His breath caught. His hands trembled. He had seen this droid before. Not in reality. In dreams.

Bastila inhaled sharply.

She had seen it too.

Mission wrinkled her nose. "Okay, that thing is definitely haunted."

Carth raised a cautious hand toward his blaster. "Looks dead."

As if responding to his words, the droid groaned to life. A deep, mechanical sound echoed through the ruins. Lights flickered. Metal creaked.

Then—

A low, distorted voice crackled to life.

"[Intruders detected. Identifying parameters.]"

Seth's heart slammed against his ribs.

"Oh," he muttered, hands flying to his saber.

Carth's fingers twitched over his blaster. "Yeah, that doesn't sound good."

Seth exhaled sharply. "I don't think we're on the 'welcome guests' list."

Mission, very much behind Seth at this point, whispered, "Please tell me that thing is too old to kill us."

The droid clicked, whirred, then spoke again—this time in a language they didn't understand. A deep, guttural series of syllables rang through the chamber, shifting between tones and dialects.

Bastila frowned. "It's cycling through languages."

The sound of it made Seth's skull ache. Something familiar yet just out of reach, like a song half-remembered from childhood.

Mission perked up. "Hey, that one sounded kinda like Selkath!"

Bastila nodded, eyes widening slightly. "Ancient Selkath."

Carth gave a dry chuckle. "Great. I'm sure we all definitely speak that."

As if responding, the droid's voice shifted again—this time, clear and understandable.

"[I am capable of speaking any of the languages spoken by the servants of the Builders.]"

Seth felt his stomach drop.

The who?

Bastila's eyes flickered toward him. She could feel his unease through their bond. "Who are the Builders?" she asked slowly.

The droid clicked, processing. "[The Builders are the rulers of the galaxy.]"

Silence.

A shiver crawled down Seth's spine.

"The galaxy doesn't have rulers," Carth said cautiously.

The droid's single optic locked onto him. "[Incorrect. The Builders have shaped the stars since before the birth of your primitive worlds. Their empire is eternal.]"

A long pause stretched between them.

Mission looked around. "Uh… where are they now?"

Seth expected another mechanical answer, but this time, the droid hesitated. A long, slow whir, as if calculating something. "[The Builders are gone.]"

The finality in its voice sent a strange chill down Seth's spine.

Bastila folded her arms. "Gone?"

"[Yes. Gone. But their legacy remains.]"

Carth frowned. "And what legacy would that be?"

The droid shifted again. "[The Star Forge.]"

Seth felt his breath catch. There it was. That name. He glanced at Bastila—she had caught on too. The mystery Revan and Malak relentlessly pursued in their visions.

Bastila stepped forward. "Tell us about the Star Forge."

The droid whirred sharply, clicking as if trying to retrieve data. "[The Star Forge is the glory of the Builders. The apex of their infinite empire. A machine of invincible might, a tool of unstoppable conquest.]"

Seth didn't like any of that wording.

Carth shot them all a wary look. "I don't know about you, but I'm getting a bad feeling about this."

Mission nodded rapidly. "Yeah, 'unstoppable conquest' isn't exactly a warm and fuzzy phrase."

Seth exhaled. "Do you know where it is?"

The droid hesitated. "[The ones who came before you—neither slave nor Builder—proved themselves worthy to seek out the Star Forge.]"

Bastila's jaw tensed. "Revan and Malak."

The droid continued. "[They discovered the secrets beyond the sealed door behind me. But there was another who failed… and paid the ultimate price.]"

Seth stiffened. "Nemo." He glanced at the corpse near the far wall—an older Jedi, long dead.

Bastila's breath was slow and measured. "The Council sent him to investigate before us."

A cold pit formed in Seth's stomach. "And he didn't make it back."

There was a long, heavy silence.

Then—

Bastila straightened. "What must we do to prove ourselves worthy?"

The droid's optic whirred, clicking. "[Pass the trials. Prove your strength and knowledge. Then, the secrets beyond the sealed door will be yours to claim.]"

Seth exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. "Great. Tests. Love that."

Bastila shot him a look before turning toward the others. "We have no choice. If we want to find the Star Forge—if we want to understand our visions—this is the next step."

She turned back to the droid. "Where do we begin?"

The droid clicked sharply, a mechanical hum vibrating through the walls. "[Enter the proving grounds. Choose east or west. The path forward will be decided by your actions.]"

Seth turned toward the two doors flanking the chamber—one to the left, one to the right. Neither looked particularly inviting. "Well," he muttered. "I definitely feel good about this."

Mission gave him a flat look. "Yeah, 'cause that's comforting."

The droid's words hung in the air, the two paths before them looming like a crossroads in fate.

Seth inhaled, steadying himself. "Alright. We've got two choices—left or right."

Bastila stepped up beside him. "We split up."

Carth shook his head instantly. "Absolutely not."

Bastila's eyes narrowed. "Splitting our numbers is more tactically sound."

"No," Carth repeated. "We're walking into something we don't fully understand. We stick together."

Mission pointed between the doors. "Well, which one do we go through?"

Seth studied both archways, the dark stone humming with something unseen. "We gotta go through both eventually. I say we start with the left."

Bastila gave him a considering look but nodded. "Then left it is."

Seth led the way, pushing the heavy stone door open. Inside was silent. The air felt ancient, like a space untouched for centuries. A faint glow pulsed from a console at the far end of the chamber.

A puzzle.

Seth exhaled. "Okay, this feels better than 'battle to the death.'"

Mission stepped up, cracking her knuckles. "Good, 'cause computers? I can handle computers."

She set to work on the console. A series of glowing glyphs lit up across the screen, shifting between symbols Seth had never seen before. Mission's brow furrowed. "Uh… yeah, this is not Galactic Basic."

Bastila stepped closer, frowning at the screen. "It resembles some of the markings in the outer chambers."

Mission's fingers danced across the interface. "I think I can translate it…"

The screen flashed, and words in Basic flickered to life.

"THE BUILDING BLOCKS OF EMPIRE: A TEST OF SUSTAINABILITY."

Seth made a face. "Okay, great. This thing wants us to build a government."

Carth groaned. "If I wanted to play politics, I'd have stayed in the Republic Navy."

Seth skimmed the question that appeared below. "Select the three primary world types necessary for sustaining galactic life."

His stomach sank.

This was not his area of expertise.

He side-eyed Mission. She side-eyed back. Neither of them spoke.

"…Don't look at me," she muttered. "Taris had all of one type of terrain, and it sucked."

Carth, who had been grumbling under his breath, paused. He looked at the question. Looked at them.

Then, in an uncharacteristically quiet voice, said:

"Grassland. Arboreal. Oceanic."

Mission blinked. "…What?"

Seth frowned. "How do you know that?"

Carth's jaw tightened slightly. He didn't meet their eyes. "My wife used to garden."

A pause.

Then, Mission grinned. "No way. The stoic Republic captain is secretly a plant guy?"

Carth gave her a look. "I didn't say I gardened."

Seth shrugged. "Still. That's oddly specific knowledge, and I'm grateful for it."

Mission input the answers, and the console hummed in approval. A second line of text appeared.

"ACCEPTABLE. PROCEED TO THE NEXT CHALLENGE."

Mission beamed. "Look at that! Good job, Plant Dad."

Carth grumbled, "Never saying anything ever again."

Seth chuckled but felt his chest tighten slightly. This was just the first test.

And now… came the second. Seth led them back through the doors they came through and across the hall into the opposite chamber. Unlike the first, there was no console, no text, no puzzle. Just a massive, empty room—and at its center, two towering droids. At first, they remained still, rusted metal shells slumped in lifeless inactivity.

Then—

A low hum of power.

"PROVING SEQUENCE ENGAGED. COMMENCING COMBAT."

The droids snapped upright, servos whirring to life. Their eyes burned red. Weapons locked on.

Seth had just enough time to yell—"Move!"—before the first blaster bolt seared through the air.

The crew scattered as blaster fire rained down, scorching stone and sending sparks flying. Bastila's saber snapped to life, gold light cutting through the dim chamber as she deflected a rapid barrage of shots.

Carth dove behind a pillar, barking, "You'd think one of these trials would be a written exam!"

Mission yelped as a bolt narrowly missed her shoulder. "I'd fail it," she admitted, sliding behind a chunk of fallen debris.

Seth rolled behind a pillar, breathing hard. He could feel the energy radiating from the droids—not just heat, but something deeper. Power. Precision. Imminent death. "Shields are up!" he shouted, spotting the glowing distortion field around each droid.

Bastila deflected a bolt, moving with flawless precision. "Yes, I gathered that!"

"You know, Republic," Canderous called dryly from behind cover, casually reloading his blaster, "this is exactly why I fight with bombs."

"Do you have any?" Carth snapped.

Canderous checked his belt. "Nope."

The droids advanced, their heavy footsteps thundering against the ancient stone. A countdown clock was ticking in Seth's head. They were going to be overwhelmed.

He needed to do something.

Seth reached out—tapping into the Force, stretching his senses. He felt the electrical currents pulsing through the shields, holding fast, impenetrable. The energy surged like a flood, overwhelming, barely within reach. He gritted his teeth, gripping the edge of the pillar for balance.

This wasn't like before. It wasn't like sensing an opponent's movement or catching something midair. It was raw, untamed power.

A deep pulse echoed in his bones. The Force sang through him, urging him forward.

He could shut the shields down.

He knew he could.

Seth thrust his hand forward. A burst of blue energy crackled from his fingertips, lashing toward the droids, and for a moment, the shields flickered. He gasped—he was doing it.

Then—

The energy snapped back.

Like a rubber band pulled too tight, the Force recoiled—

A surge of raw power slammed into Seth's chest. His vision blurred. The shockwave sent him flying backward, crashing hard against a stone column.

Mission screamed. "Seth!"

Bastila's eyes snapped to him, her composure breaking.

Seth's head spun. His body felt like it had just been hit by a speeder.

The droids took aim. "TARGET INCAPACITATED. COMMENCING TERMINATION."

His muscles refused to move. He saw Bastila sprinting for him, Mission pulling her blaster up, Carth shouting—

Something ignited in his chest. A deep, familiar fire. The Force roared through him, slamming into his senses like a tidal wave. Seth threw his hand out again.

This time—

The power bent to his will.

A surge of energy erupted from his palm, crackling blue and fierce. The droid shields sputtered. Seth clenched his jaw—focused. He pushed harder.

And the shields shattered.

Bastila leaped forward, cutting through the first droid's chassis in a blur of golden light. Carth and Canderous unloaded a barrage of blaster fire into the second. A shot from T3 hit home, and the final droid collapsed into a smoking heap.

Silence.

Seth's chest heaved. His fingertips still hummed with energy. His whole body felt alive. Like he'd just touched something vast and limitless.

Bastila was suddenly in front of him, her gray eyes searching. "Are you alright?"

Seth forced a grin. "Yeah. Nailed it."

Mission slapped his arm. "No, you didn't! You got thrown across the room!"

Carth stepped closer, brow furrowed. "That… that was some serious Force work, kid."

Seth flexed his fingers. His body still thrummed from it. "Yeah," he muttered. "I noticed."

A deep, metallic groan echoed across the chamber. The sealed door at the back of the ruins was opening.

Bastila's expression hardened. "This is it."

Seth exhaled sharply. He looked back at Mission. She gave him a small, encouraging smirk.

He squared his shoulders, then followed Bastila through the doorway into a chamber bathed in an eerie blue light. It felt like stepping into another world.

The room was vast, lined with ancient carvings and massive obelisks etched in symbols he didn't recognize. The air itself felt charged, as if the very walls held whispers of something old, something forgotten. At the chamber's center, a three-sided structure stood, metal polished and untouched by time. Suspended above it, slowly rotating, was a dark, metallic sphere.

Seth took a step forward, eyes locked onto the device. His pulse quickened.

Bastila came up beside him, her expression carefully composed, but he could feel her unease through their bond. "This is it."

The hum of ancient energy filled the chamber as the floating metallic sphere above the three-sided structure began to glow.

Seth took a cautious step forward, hand hovering near his lightsaber. The moment his boot touched the edge of the platform, the sphere shuddered to life. A burst of blue light erupted outward, illuminating the walls with cascading symbols and unfamiliar glyphs.

Then—

A holographic map flickered into view, its bright lines forming the outline of a galaxy.

No—not just any galaxy. Their galaxy.

Mission sucked in a breath. "Whoa."

"It's a navigation chart," Bastila murmured, stepping beside him. Her gaze scanned the projection, sharp with analysis. "But it's… incomplete."

Seth frowned. "Incomplete?"

Carth frowned, arms folded. "There's whole sections missing."

Mission, eyes darting over the glowing map, suddenly pointed. "Hey, wait—I know these planets." Her finger hovered over four distinct locations that pulsed faintly in the projection. "Kashyyyk… Korriban… Tatooine… and Manaan," she read aloud.

Zaalbar rumbled lowly, stepping closer. "[I have heard legends of ancient technology hidden deep in the Shadowlands of Kashyyyk.]"

Bastila's eyes flickered with realization. "Of course."

Seth gave her a sidelong glance. "Of course what?"

Bastila's lips pressed into a thin line. "Revan and Malak. Before they turned to the dark side, they visited these worlds. We know that. We assumed it was to recruit followers or gather resources for their war effort—but what if that wasn't their true purpose?"

Seth exhaled sharply. It was all clicking into place. "They weren't just stopping by," he murmured. "They were looking for this." He motioned to the projection. "They were trying to complete the map."

Carth stepped closer to the map, his brow furrowed. "If this is what Revan and Malak found here, it's bigger than we thought." He reached out, gesturing at the points of interest marked on the map. "If the Star Forge really is some kind of superweapon, it would explain why their war effort escalated so quickly. They went from leading the Republic's charge against the Mandalorians to conquering half the galaxy in a matter of months."

Seth swallowed. "They didn't just become Sith. They got help."

Bastila nodded grimly. "If this Star Forge was their source of power, we cannot allow Malak to continue using it. The Republic doesn't stand a chance otherwise."

Carth's voice was firm, all military now. "If we can find it before Malak realizes what we're doing, we might be able to shut it down. Destroy it. If we don't…" He trailed off, his jaw tight. "This war is already on the edge. Malak could end it with a single stroke."

The words hung in the air.

That was it. The stakes.

They weren't just looking for clues about Revan and Malak.

They were looking for the key to saving the Republic.

Bastila turned to Seth then, her expression unreadable, but through their bond, he felt it—something somber. "Seth," she said, her voice quieter now. "You realize what this means, don't you?"

He did.

She didn't have to say it, but she did anyway.

"The Council will send me after the Star Forge." She hesitated, just slightly. "And they will send you with me."

His throat felt dry. "Yeah. I figured."

Her hands clenched at her sides. "You know I would not ask this of you lightly."

Seth's heart hammered. She had spent weeks keeping her walls up, holding him at arm's length, keeping their connection to the Force strictly professional. But now, her voice was tight. Her control was cracking.

She didn't want this for him.

But she needed him.

And for the first time, Seth realized—he couldn't let her do this alone.

He took a slow breath.

A few months ago, he'd been a Republic soldier. A kid on his first real deployment. Just following orders because it was what he was trained to do.

Now?

Now the Force had led him here.

He wasn't some nameless private anymore. He wasn't some street kid running the alleys of Coruscant, drifting through life without a name worth remembering. He was here—for a reason.

And if stopping Malak meant hunting down the Star Forge?

Then that was exactly what he was going to do.

He met Bastila's gaze—steady now.

"You won't have to do this alone," he told her.

She let out a slow breath, something in her posture easing. Their bond pulsed with unspoken understanding.

Whatever came next—they were in this together.

Seth turned back to the rest of the crew, taking them all in.

Carth, Mission, Zaalbar, Canderous. T3.

His family.

They had already gone above and beyond what anyone could have asked of them.

"You've all stuck with us this far," he said, his voice quieter. "But this? This is different. This isn't just getting off Taris, or running a job for the Republic."

He exhaled. "This is dangerous. More than any of us have faced before."

Bastila stepped forward, her expression solemn. "We won't ask you to follow us any further. The Jedi may send us on this mission, but you all have a choice. If you wish to go your own way, we understand."

A pause.

A beat of silence.

Then—

Carth crossed his arms, shaking his head. "You don't have to ask me twice. If this is the key to stopping Malak, I'm in. I need to see this through."

Canderous cracked a slow, amused grin. "I like a good war, and this sounds like a hell of a fight." He rolled his shoulders. "Besides, I wanna see what Revan and Malak were after. If it was enough to turn them into gods of war, I'd be a fool not to be curious."

Zaalbar rumbled something low and strong.

Mission translated with a small smirk. "Big Z says he's seen too much to turn back now." She hesitated—just slightly—before glancing at Seth. "And, uh… I kinda feel the same way."

Mission took a deep breath, crossing her arms, but her voice was softer. "I may not be a Jedi, and I may not have the Force telling me what to do, but…" She exhaled. "You're my best friend, Seth. And you know me—I don't walk away from my friends."

Seth felt something warm in his chest.

She was staying.

They all were.

Carth clapped his hands together. "Well, no use standing around. We need to tell the Council what we've found."

Seth exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he took one last glance at the ancient map, letting the weight of their mission settle in.

"This is it," he murmured. "The real fight starts now."

Bastila studied him for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind her gaze. "You're certain about this?"

He looked at her, then at the others—Mission, Zaalbar, Carth, Canderous. They were all in this together now.

"We don't leave a job half-done," Seth said simply. "Malak's not winning this war. Not while we're still breathing."

A rare, small smile ghosted over Bastila's lips. "Then let's not keep the Council waiting."

With that, they turned from the chamber, stepping back into the Dantooine sunlight—bound by purpose, duty, and the road ahead.

Their mission wasn't over.

It was only just beginning.

The Leviathan's command deck was a cold, sterile place—gleaming black durasteel floors, red-accented consoles, the sharp scent of ozone lingering from the hum of the ship's vast power systems. Every inch of it screamed order and discipline. And yet, standing in the center of Admiral Saul Karath's personal office, Calo Nord remained utterly unimpressed.

If the admiral expected the bounty hunter to be intimidated by the sheer magnitude of the Sith fleet outside the viewport, he was sorely mistaken.

Saul leaned forward across his desk, fingers steepled, fixing Calo with a scrutinizing gaze. "I find it curious, Mr. Nord, that you survived the destruction of Taris." His voice was smooth, measured—but sharp. "Even more curious that we found you not far from Davik Kang's corpse."

Calo shrugged, completely unaffected. "He found himself on the receiving end of a thermal detonator. Bad timing, that."

Karath's lips pressed into a thin line. He wasn't sure what irritated him more—Nord's flippancy, or the fact that the bounty hunter had the gall to be amused at his own near-death experience.

"Bad timing," Saul repeated, tilting his head slightly. "You were caught in the middle of our bombardment. You should have been vaporized."

"Wouldn't be much of a bounty hunter if I let something like planetary destruction slow me down," Calo said simply, adjusting one of the many blaster holsters strapped across his chest. "I saw them leave. The Jedi. The Republic scum you're after. I know what ship they're flying, and I know how they fight." He let the words settle before adding, "And I want them dead just as much as you do."

Saul inhaled deeply, considering. "You have a score to settle."

Calo's fingers flexed against the handle of his blaster. "One of them stole my kill. And the kid?" His lips curled in something that wasn't quite a smirk. "I owe him a slow death."

Karath studied him carefully. He had no illusions about who Calo Nord was—a ruthless gun-for-hire, motivated only by credits and blood. But that was exactly what made him useful.

"My men tell me you're proposing a deal," Saul said.

Calo nodded. "I find them. I track them down. And when I do, I get to finish the job." A pause. "For a price."

Saul exhaled slowly, tapping a finger against his desk. Calo Nord was a weapon—a volatile, dangerous one—but one that could be aimed. And the idea of siccing him on Carth Onasi, of watching the Republic's golden boy finally pay for his betrayal? That was tempting.

"I'll bring your request to Lord Malak," Saul said at last. "If he approves, the hunt is yours."

Calo gave a slow, approving nod. "Good. Let's hope he sees reason."

He turned without another word and strode from the office, leaving Saul to lean back in his chair, fingers drumming thoughtfully against the desk.

Yes. This could work.

Juhani had been aboard the Ebon Hawk for less than a day, and already, Mission was starting to feel like her shadow.

The Cathar followed a few paces behind as Mission led her through the ship, pointing out various systems and compartments. "So, here's the engine room—don't touch anything, unless you want T3 to roll over your foot in retaliation. Big Z and I tried to run a diagnostic once, and I'm pretty sure the little guy programmed a tripwire as revenge."

Juhani arched an eyebrow, folding her arms. "And yet the ship still flies?"

"Barely," Mission muttered. "Which, actually, is why Carth does all the maintenance now."

Juhani hummed thoughtfully but said nothing. Mission glanced back at her, feeling the weight of her silence. She still wasn't sure about Juhani—not just because the woman had nearly sliced them in half back at the grove, but because she carried an air of quiet solemnity, something heavy.

Mission wasn't used to heavy. She was used to loud, quick-witted banter, dodging blaster fire, running fast. Juhani, on the other hand, carried herself like someone who had been standing still for a long time—long enough to sink into the weight of her regrets.

They reached the crew quarters, and Mission gestured to the door on the right. "This is where the girls sleep. You'll be bunking with Bastila and me—if you snore, I'll smother you with a pillow."

Juhani chuckled softly. "Understood."

Mission hesitated, then finally voiced the thought that had been lingering at the edge of her mind. "Look… I know you're all 'peace and atonement' now, but it's just kinda hard for me to wrap my head around. Like, the last time I saw you, you literally threw me across a grove with the Force."

Juhani's expression softened. "I do not blame you for your caution. It is well-earned." She exhaled slowly, as if the weight of the conversation sat heavy on her shoulders. "I cannot pretend that my redemption is complete simply because the Council saw fit to send me with you all. I have much to prove. To them… to you."

Mission bit the inside of her cheek, nodding slightly. She still wasn't comfortable with the situation, but at least Juhani wasn't pretending it was all water under the bridge.

There was a brief pause before Mission added, "You know, I kinda get it, though."

Juhani looked at her in surprise. "You do?"

Mission shrugged. "I mean, yeah, I never fell to the dark side or anything, but I know what it's like to have your whole life flipped upside down and have to figure out where you fit again. I lost my home, too. I lost my people. But I stuck with Seth, with Carth, because this crew gave me a place to belong." She glanced over at Juhani. "Maybe it'll be the same for you."

Juhani gave her a long, measured look, and then—for the first time since she'd stepped onto the ship—she smiled. A real smile, warm and a little hesitant. "Thank you, Mission."

Mission cleared her throat, suddenly flustered. "Yeah, yeah, don't get all emotional on me." She waved toward the bed. "Go on, get settled. Just don't take my bunk."

She turned to leave but nearly ran into Seth standing in the doorway.

Cocking an eyebrow, she put her hands on her hips. "Eavesdropping, Hotshot?"

Seth smirked. "Nah, just waiting my turn." He glanced at Juhani. "Carth's taking us into hyperspace soon. If you need to rest up, now's your chance."

Juhani inclined her head in acknowledgment. "Thank you. I will see you both later."

Mission followed Seth out into the corridor, curious. "So, what's up? You finally admitting you need me for something?"

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Something like that."

She rolled her eyes but fell into step beside him as they headed toward the cargo hum of the Ebon Hawk's engines filled the room as Seth hopped up onto a crate, his hands resting on the edge, fingers drumming absently against the durasteel. He watched as Mission leaned against the opposite stack of supplies, arms crossed, waiting.

She arched an eyebrow. "You dragging me in here for a heart-to-heart?"

Seth smirked at the nickname but exhaled through his nose, his expression softening. "More like a check-in." He gestured vaguely toward the ship around them. "Carth's taking us into hyperspace, and I figured before we're knee-deep in whatever the hell Manaan throws at us, I should make sure you're… okay."

Mission tilted her head, studying him. "You keep asking me that, you know."

He huffed out a short laugh. "Yeah. Guess I do."

A beat of silence passed between them. Mission's fingers traced the edge of a crate beside her, and when she finally spoke, her voice was quieter. "We're really doing this, huh? Flying across the galaxy, chasing after some ancient map?" She let out a short, humorless chuckle. "Feels like a bad idea."

Seth ran a hand through his hair. "It is a bad idea," he admitted. "But it's also the only idea we've got."

Mission's eyes flicked up to his, searching his face. "And you? Are you okay?" She hesitated. "You never really got a choice in all this."

Seth was quiet for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "The truth?" His lips quirked, but there wasn't much humor in it. "I need this." He glanced at her. "For the first time in my life, I have an actual purpose. This… whatever this whole mission turns into… it's something bigger than me. And yeah, it's gonna be dangerous, and it's probably gonna get messy. But I can't turn away from it."

Mission held his gaze, and for once, she didn't have a snarky remark ready. "Yeah," she murmured. "I get that."

Seth leaned back, letting the silence settle comfortably between them before speaking again. "That's actually why I wanted to talk to you." He rubbed his palms together, gathering his thoughts. "If you and Big Z ever want out—if you don't want to keep getting dragged into all this Jedi insanity—you can leave. No one's gonna hold it against you."

Mission's brow furrowed, and she let out an incredulous laugh. "Seth. Look around." She gestured broadly at the Ebon Hawk. "I'm already here. We're in hyperspace. Bit late for second thoughts, don't you think?"

"I mean it," Seth insisted. "We've all been in this together since Taris, but this? This is bigger than any of us. I don't want you sticking around just because you feel like you have to."

Mission frowned, considering. She let out a slow exhale before walking forward, coming to stand directly in front of him. "Do you really think I'm still here because I feel like I have to be?"

Seth blinked at her, thrown off by the sudden closeness. "I—uh—"

Mission shook her head, cutting him off. "I lost everything when Taris burned. My home, the Beks, everything I knew." She tapped a finger against his chest. "But I didn't lose you. Or Big Z. Or this crew. And yeah, maybe chasing down some ancient star map isn't exactly what I thought I'd be doing with my life, but…" She shrugged, looking down briefly before meeting his gaze again. "For the first time in a long time, I belong somewhere." Her voice softened. "And I don't want to lose that."

Seth swallowed thickly, feeling something tighten in his chest. "Mission…"

She reached up, hesitated for just a second, then cupped the side of his face, her fingers barely brushing his jawline. His breath hitched.

"I'm here, Seth," she said softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

The words settled between them like a promise.

Seth exhaled, closing his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again, finding nothing but sincerity in hers. "You mean that?"

Instead of answering, Mission leaned in, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that was equal parts confidence and hesitation, warmth and uncertainty. His breath stuttered, but he didn't waste time overthinking it—he simply moved, his hands sliding up to cradle the sides of her face, fingers dancing along her lekku as he pulled her closer.

The kiss was electric—not rushed, not frantic, but something else entirely. It was steady, grounding. As if everything else—war, duty, the Star Forge—faded into the background.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested against each other, breathing uneven.

Mission let out a short laugh. "I was never one for following the rules anyway."

Seth chuckled, pressing his forehead to hers just a little harder. "Good," he murmured. "Me neither."

Outside the viewport, hyperspace stretched endlessly before them. Whatever lay ahead—whatever awaited them on Manaan—they would face it together.