They ran.
Boots struck the dry earth of Tython in silence, without breath, without words. They followed the raw wake of the Force like a lifeline stretched to the edge. The tension gripped their insides like an invisible claw.
Whatever noise had come before, it had frozen everything. No sound remained. Even the wind had stopped.
They finally reached the shores of Lake Myrana, far from the main structures. A place of calm. Of meditation.
Usually.
Not today.
And what they saw left them speechless.
At the exact center of the lakebed, now dry, she knelt. Illaoï.
Hunched back. Arms wrapped around herself.
An empty embrace.
Alone.
The lake's water had been repelled—two towering columns of frozen water rose into the sky like cathedral spires, levitating in a perfect arc around her.
The rest of the lake… frozen.
Absolutely still. Mirror-like. Immaculate.
The surrounding ground hadn't escaped either. Grass, leaves, even stones were covered in a frost so pure, so dense, the world had turned to crystal.
Then they saw the wreckage.
Dark shapes. Red stains. Everywhere.
Birds. Fallen from the sky.
Wings stiff. Bodies shattered on contact.
Frozen mid-flight. Instant death.
Further away, a young fawn, caught mid-run—now a statue of ice.
A fox, curled, eyes wide open—trapped in its last breath.
Scourge stepped to the edge. Picked up a stone. Threw it.
It hit the frozen grass a few meters out. A clear chime, then a sharp crack—
The grass shattered into a thousand shards of green and white.
— Absolute zero… one of the Jedi Masters whispered.
The cold had struck with such violence there wasn't even energy left for movement. Instant death for anything living.
And yet… she was still there.
Still motionless.
Until a small shift broke the moment.
She straightened slowly, revealing the blood-red line running down her arm. Thin fractures spread beneath her skin like ruptured veins. Her blood seeped slowly, dark and thick.
She turned her head.
Looked around.
And understood.
The destruction. The frost. The death. The stunned faces.
And slowly… she released the pressure.
The ice pillars began to melt. Droplets broke the silence, whispering across the still air. The lake filled once more.
The mirror of ice gave way to liquid.
The sun reflected in perfect, wave-less glass.
And the frost vanished.
None of them moved.
None dared to cross the invisible line between miracle… and cataclysm.
It was Satele Shan who broke the silence.
She stepped forward, alone. Her pace steady, upright, serene.
And Illaoï didn't move.
She didn't flee.
Didn't shut down.
She waited.
Because she knew.
It was time to move forward.
Behind them, Scourge grumbled under his breath.
— Of course. She gets to waltz up like it's a damn picnic. Not two years of sweat and system-wide hunts, no. Her Holiness the Jedi Master just strolls over like she's shopping for fruit.
T7 beeped cautiously and rolled back.
Loewen smirked. Doc was pretending to fiddle with his scanner.
Scourge let out a long, world-weary sigh.
— Two years. Two years hunting her across the stars, torching garrisons, burning down hideouts. And now what? Five minutes of soulful eye contact and braid-fluttering spiritual bonding? Hope she at least offered her some tea.
He rolled his eyes, muttering things best left untranslated in Jedi circles.
Out on the lake, Illaoï stood.
She showed no fatigue. Her blood was gone. The cracks in her skin had vanished. Her breath was calm. Her posture… unshakable.
She walked beside Satele. They didn't speak.
But something had changed.
As they passed the group, Illaoï caught Scourge's gaze.
She held it.
Long.
Her eyes—impossibly turquoise, the only color Scourge could still see in a world turned to ash—shone with quiet fire.
No words.
But in that look, he read recognition. A bond.
A sliver of shared truth beyond language.
She knew.
And so did he.
Satele stopped briefly and turned to the gathered Jedi.
— I will debrief with several Masters. Privately.
Loewen and Scourge exchanged a glance.
They weren't invited.
Scourge raised an eyebrow.
— Perfect. Let them go meditate behind locked doors. I've got a droid to torture and a security protocol to shatter just to unwind.
Loewen rested a hand on his shoulder.
— You know you'll have to make an effort…
— I did make an effort, Jedi. I let the surviving birds breathe and fly away.
The look of disdain Scourge gave the hand on his shoulder spoke volumes about his thoughts on unsolicited camaraderie.
Loewen took the hint.
Scourge walked off in the opposite direction, armor clanking and sarcasm holstered like a sidearm.
The storm had passed.
But the real war…
Was just beginning.