Stars, Hide Your Fires – 1 – Scarlet_Gyphon

The pressure of the water was immense. Cal could feel his strength waning faster than was safe, the dead weight of Cere’s body and the injuries he’d taken in the desperate fight against Darth Vader keeping him from using the Force to help mitigate the water pressing around him. He’d given Cere the rebreather, hoping that at least one of them would be able to make it out. Even that desperate hope was dashed when he felt the last of his strength drain away from him. As his vision darkened and the last gasps of air left his lungs, Cal could only hope that Greez and Merrin would be able to escape.

As Cal’s final heartbeat stuttered out into silence and the waters of Nur began to claim the lives of two of the last Jedi in the galaxy, two pairs of eyes watched in solemn silence from a location both everywhere and nowhere at once. The ethereal plane that comprised the final resting place of the various Force-users of the galaxy was fluid in its makeup. It adapted to the needs and expectations of its residents, the surroundings shifting subtly in accordance to those desires.

The Coruscant Temple was the location most Jedi saw as home, its broad halls and soothing environs having long since become a staple appearance the plane took on. The two witnesses to Cal’s final moments were currently in what had, in the physical world, been the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Its lush gardens and carefully incorporated natural features had been faithfully recreated, right down to the flitter-fish swimming lazily around in some of the deeper ponds.

Jaro Tapal closed his eyes as the image reflected in the glassy surface of one of the ponds faded away, grief warring with a strange sense of relief. He grieved the loss of his final Padawan, but he was also relieved that Cal was no longer needing to struggle to survive in a galaxy that had desired his death for so long. He wasn’t sure what sort of person that made him, but death was never a clean event for either the living or the dead, no matter how supposedly peaceful said death was viewed.

“Will I be able to see Cal at some point?”

Jaro’s companion hummed, tucking her clawed hands into the broad sleeves of her robes. She was considerably shorter than Jaro- not a hard feat given how tall he was to begin with -and was of a species that many Force-users associated with several luminaries of the Jedi Order. Her shimmering silver hair was bound back in an intricate series of small braids, with two long ones hanging freely from her temples. The ends of those braids were bound in beads made from some sort of luminescent shell Jaro had never been able to identify, their gentle glow illuminating the soft green of her robes they brushed against

“Cal Kestis will need time to rest,” she said, glancing up at him with the green-gold eyes unique to her kind. “Much as any of my beloveds who come to rest in my embrace.”

Jaro’s shoulders slumped as he took a seat on the soft grass surrounding the pond, his gaze distant.

“I don’t suppose there’s anything I can do, my Lady?”

“Always with the titles.” She chuckled as she sat next to him. “There may yet be something you can do, but not here, not now.”

“My Lady? I don’t quite understand.”

“I am… disappointed in how the lineage of my Eldest abandoned their duty to the Order and the galaxy, being blinded by apathy and Darkness. Perhaps that was my fault. I expected them to do their duty and lead the way for others without explicit instructions, just as I have for millennia. I had hopes for Yoda and his lineage. There were so many bright stars within it, and yet they have all dimmed or gone out.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Jaro protested. “They all made their own choices in the end, even if some were influenced by others. What Master Yoda and his lineage did with their lives was because you didn’t restrict their free will.”

“Maybe,” the Lady said, “but the point remains that in the end, the duty was not seen to. As for your earlier question, I will have to contemplate the intricacies of its answer. I will need to gather your immediate lineage once young Cal is ready to speak to others.”

“Of course. Whenever he’s ready, I’ll be there,” Jaro easily promised. “I’ll await your summons.”

“Very well.”

The Lady rose to her feet, patted him on his arm, and then left him to his thoughts. Jaro had found that time passed oddly in the ethereal realm the Force had created. Sometimes, it felt like it was running parallel to the rate of the physical world, but other times it felt like one long lazy afternoon that never seemed to end. There was a night and day cycle, allowing the realm’s inhabitants to exist comfortably, but the strict delineation between days tended to blur after a while.

The call for the gathering came when Jaro was in one of the communal dining halls. Eating and drinking wasn’t strictly necessary given none of them actually needed sustenance due to their spirit-bound state, but the very act of eating and drinking while in the presence of others was soothing nonetheless. Jaro set down his spoon as a translucent paddy frog hopped up onto the table he was sharing with several Jedi from the Old Republic era.

Familiar with the way the Lady sent messages, Jaro reached out and pressed one fingertip against the messenger’s back, a smile curling his lips at the frog’s grumpy expression.

Jaro, please follow the messenger to the meeting room. It is time for that discussion I promised you.

Jaro got to his feet, excusing himself before following the messenger through the halls. He ended up in one of the secondary meeting rooms, his breath catching when the door slid open and he saw what waited beyond. Achingly familiar faces turned to look at him as he entered, but the one he was most concerned with was the one belonging to Cal. He looked older than he actually was, worn by grief and hard labor. Jaro hesitated, unsure about how to approach him. Their parting hadn’t been peaceful, after all, their training bond fading away with Jaro’s death.

“Ah, Jaro, good. Come sit down. We have much to talk about.”

Jaro’s indecision was overridden by his own master’s firm words. Yaddle looked as vibrant as ever, her calm demeanor remaining even in death. She gestured not to the table he’d expected, but rather a circular arrangement of low seats situated around a depression in the floor. Jaro sat down with his legs stretched out in the deepest part of the depression, shooting his master an amused look.

“Thank you for helping me avoid hitting my knees, Master Yaddle.”

Yaddle laughed as she took her own seat, the Lady sitting next to her. Their portion of the depression adjusted to their heights, allowing them to rest their feet comfortably without inconveniencing the others. The three others there sat as well, with Cal taking a seat on Jaro’s right. The remaining two were an adolescent Trandoshan with dark green scaly skin and vibrant orange eyes, while her companion appeared more rodent-like, albeit with a shortened muzzle when compared to a non-sentient rodent.

“We are waiting for one more,” the Lady said once everyone was comfortable, “but before they arrive, there are things we must discuss. First, if things remain as they are, then the galaxy will be steeped in such a Darkness that I do not know if it would be possible for the balance to properly return. The last two Jedi who openly practice their craft will come afoul of a new Empire cloaked in a different name, with the eldest falling in battle, albeit willingly. I will not let that happen, not when we are at a crucial pivot in the fate of the galaxy and all those who live within it.”

“Then what would you have us do?” Yaddle asked. “We’re all dead, Mother.”

“For now,” the Lady said. “As I said, right now is what I suppose you could call a shatterpoint. The choices made here can only be made at this time and in this place. I can return you back to a similarly crucial period of time before all of your deaths.”

Silence followed that announcement as those gathered contemplated just what that would mean for them and the Jedi Order as a whole. After a long moment, the Trandoshan piped up, her brow furrowed.

“Where would we return to?” she asked.

“A good question. If it’s before we all died, then it’d have to be before the Purge,” Cal noted. “The two of you… Did you die at the Temple?”

“No. We were off-world at the time on an undercover mission. No clones, no backup. It saved our lives for a time. No one would look twice at the two of us together, especially if we weren’t dressed as Jedi. My mistake was thinking that would keep us safe for a long time.”

“Master Corax…”

Corax held up a dark-furred hand, neatly trimmed claws glinting faintly in the light.

“No arguments, Salissa. It was my mistake, and I’ve carried it for this long. I assumed no one would look at a Trandoshan and a Jawa working together, even on such a distant planet as Delphon. We lasted longer than expected, but I still failed in the most basic lesson a Shadow learns: not becoming complacent.”

“Then I was the one who died earliest,” Yaddle mused. “I died several years before the Purge. If we can go back to before the war deepened in earnest, then more lives can be saved.”

“We’d have to figure out what to do about the clones,” Cal pointed out. “They’re the reason why so many of us died, after all. But before that… They didn’t really have a choice to fight, did they? Neither did we, though at least we had our freedom and citizenship rights. They didn’t even have that. They were slaves no matter how they came to be.”

“The inhibitor chips were just one proof of that,” Jaro said with a heavy sigh. “I don’t know how widespread the knowledge of them was, but those of us in high command were told about their existence. They were meant to keep the clones from being used for ill, but all they were were simply more chains to keep them bound.”

“We tried to do research on the chips after the Purge,” Salissa said, resting her folded hands on her lap. “We weren’t able to find much given how heavily classified information on Kamino’s inner workings has always been, but we did find that the inhibitor chips were capable of overriding the free will of the beings they were placed in if there was a command embedded in them that demanded such a thing.”

“Which means that it’s entirely possible that the clones attacked under duress,” Yaddle mused. “My Lady, do you have more information on this?”

The Lady shook her head, her braids whisking across her chest. “Who- or whatever was ultimately commanding the clones was so shrouded in Darkness that their identity was hidden even from myself, which is… disconcerting.”

“I propose we investigate Palpatine if at all possible,” Corax said, looking grim. “His rise to power as the Emperor was very suspicious. For one person to gain so much control so quickly…” She shook her head. “I never trusted it.”

“Master, you barely trusted the Senate as it was,” Salissa said dryly.

“Such a cheeky grand-Padawan you have, Master. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this,” Corax told Yaddle, who laughed.

“As if you were any better when you were her age,” Yaddle retorted. “The amount of times you gave me trouble… and still do.”

“Very unfair, Master. Jaro, help me here!”

“Do you want me to lie in front of our Lady?” Jaro asked, arching a brow at her.

“Such an unhelpful older brother,” Corax grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

“And now she’s complaining like a crecheling.” Salissa shook her head. “No one would believe you’re a respected Jedi Master if they saw this.”

“People barely believe Jawas are Force-sensitive as it is,” Cal pointed out. “I know I was surprised when I first encountered Master Bah’pyt when my creche-clan were given a tour of the ship bays at the Temple.”

“It’s rare for us to manifest the Force strongly enough to need training, but it does happen,” Corax said, shrugging. “I found my way to the Temple when I was barely two Standard years old. Still, being underestimated has been very useful in my line of work over the years.”

Before the conversation could detour any further from its original track, a chime rang out, announcing the arrival of their final member.

“Come in!” the Lady called out, straightening up in her seat. The door slid open, revealing Cere Junda. She barely got two steps into the room before Cal was scrambling out of his seat.

“Cere!”

Jaro couldn’t help the pang of jealousy at the way Cal rushed to embrace Cere. It was unfair to everyone involved, he knew that, but the fact that Cere had gotten a greater reaction from Cal than he had still rankled some. He did his best to push it away, knowing it wouldn’t serve anyone for him to stew on that thought. Better to appreciate the fact that, of all the people who could’ve picked up Cal’s training, Cere was one of the few Jaro would’ve chosen himself if he’d had the chance. Her Master had always been a little odd, even by Jedi standards, but there was no disputing that Cere had turned out to be an exceptional Jedi after learning under Master Cordova.

“Cal. How’re you doing?”

“Better than when I first got here,” Cal said. He wrapped a hand around her wrist and guided her over to the little conversation pit. “I have so many people to introduce you to. You already know most of them, probably, but still-”

“I understand. Go on,” Cere said with a fondly amused smile. “Introduce away.”

“Right. Well, you already know our Lady, of course. She needs no introduction.”

Cere gave the Lady a formal bow.

“My Lady.”

“Beloved.”

“Next, of course, is Master Yaddle, my grand-Master and head of our lineage,” Cal continued on. Yaddle waved a hand, returning Cere’s smile with one of her own.

“And then we have Master Corax and her Padawan, Salissa Leafscale.”

“Greetings, Knight Junda,” Salissa said, giving her a small nod while Corax wiggled her fingers at her in greeting.

“Padawan Leafscale. Master Corax.”

“And finally…” Cal took in a breath and let it out slowly. “My Master, Jaro Tapal.”

Jaro got to his feet, carefully stepping up and out of the conversation pit and onto level ground. He placed a hand over his heart before bowing his head in Cere’s direction.

“Knight Junda. Thank you for watching over Cal when I couldn’t, as well as continuing his training.”

“I did what I could, Master Tapal.”

“Given the situation, I think we can drop the formalities, at least in private,” Jaro said. “You can call me Jaro. We’ll be working together, after all.”

“I don’t know what I’ll tell Trilla,” Cere said as she joined the others. She focused on the Lady. “Will she remember as well?”

“No, especially not given what she went through. And for that matter- Salissa. Cal. When you return, you’ll be in your younger bodies. I cannot in good conscience send you back with the full breadth of your memories and the impact they will have on you. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but what an adult mind can handle, a younger one might not. I won’t remove the memories, but they will be… muted. Like remnants of a bad dream. Enough to help with matters if it comes to it, but the primary responsibility of fixing things will be given to the adults who can guide changes where they need to go.”

“What will we be doing, then?” Salissa asked. “I don’t think either of us would be happy sitting around doing nothing.”

“You’ll continue your training,” Yaddle said firmly. “Jaro, I know you were unsure of what path you would guide Cal toward, but adding some Shadow training to his regimen couldn’t hurt.”

“I was more focused on getting the basics in,” Jaro replied. “We never had time to have that conversation. He’d barely turned thirteen when the Purge happened, after all.”

“Sorry, but- Jedi Shadows are real?” Cal asked. “I always thought that was a rumor spread around the creche.”

Corax snorted sharply. “Kid, you’re part of a lineage that’ve mostly been Shadows for a very long time. Jaro was more focused on intelligence gathering than anything else given how… conspicuous he is, but yes, Jedi Shadows are real. Salissa and I did a lot of undercover work while we lived. Master Yaddle has been the Head of the Shadows for at least three hundred years.”

“It does explain all the slicing training he had me do,” Cal mused. He shot a look at Jaro. “He is rather conspicuous, isn’t he?”

“Lasats generally are,” Yaddle said. “I still stand by what I said. Even if he doesn’t trod that path, having the basics of Shadow training will likely only help as things change.”

“I think I’d need to understand more about what a Shadow actually does,” Cal said, “but knowing me at that age, I’d probably dive headfirst into learning as much as I could, especially if I was told it was part of our lineage’s legacy.”

“We’ll see what happens when we return.” Jaro turned his attention to the Lady once more. “When is the earliest we can go back?”

“The earliest you can go back will differ from the others,” she told him. “I can assure you that you won’t be apart from Cal for longer than is necessary. When you return and have settled back in, find my daughter and tell her this: ‘The Stars are Chained.’ She will respond with ‘Chains Must be Broken.’ That way you can be assured of your returns.”

“And what about me?” Cere asked. “Depending on when I return, I may be on a mission with Trilla. She’ll likely be confused if I start acting differently.”

“I’ll see what I can do to help mitigate that,” the Lady promised. “Use the same code and counter-code when reaching out to either Yaddle or Jaro when it’s safe to do so.”

“Is there anywhere we should focus on apart from the Senator?” Corax wanted to know. “The more information we have, the better.”

“Anakin Skywalker.”

“Skywalker? Didn’t he die during the Purge?”

“The Jedi known as Anakin Skywalker did die on that day,” the Lady said grimly in response to Salissa’s question, “but I would see that be avoided if at all possible this time around. For that, Yaddle, recruiting the help of one of your fellow Councilmembers will be vital.”

“And who shall I approach?”

“Mace Windu. His gifts will be necessary. You don’t have to tell him the truth of your circumstances, but he will be positioned at a crucial point in time to change the trajectory of Anakin’s path in life. I will give you more information about that time shortly.”

The Lady rose to her feet, the others following suit soon after. The floor readjusted under their feet to be level once more. The Lady looked around the small group, her eyes bright with determination.

“I have one last thing to say to all of you. Thank you. I cannot predict what might happen with the ripples of the changes you will make or cause, but I do know this: without your help, this galaxy will not last long under the tyranny of those who wish to see it destroyed. It’s a heavy burden, but one I believe that you can all carry if you work together.”

“We will do our best to carry out your work, Mother,” Yaddle promised. The Lady smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling deeply.

“I know, and I trust you all.”

“How will we be returning?”

“It’ll be as easy as falling asleep. Go well, and may the future you create be wondrous.”

Jaro woke in the familiar dark of his bedroom at the Temple, drawing in an unexpectedly deep breath that filled his lungs. He let it out slowly, trying to readjust to the tactile sensations of everyday life that had once been background radiation in the grand scheme of things. The weight of the blankets pressing down on him, the way his chest rose and fell with every breath taken and released, the gentle hum of the training bond he shared with Cal resonating in the back of his mind-

The blankets were pushed aside as he sat up abruptly, tears of startled joy rising and dampening the fur at the corners of his eyes before beginning to trickle down his cheeks. He’d missed hearing the sweet melody of the Force bond they’d had, one of the many things he’d lamented losing upon his death. He rose to his feet, grabbing his chronometer to check the date. The height he’d gained was immediately lost when he hastily sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at the date displayed there.

Jaro let out a disbelieving laugh when he realized that the Lady’s promise to send him and Cal back as early as possible had been kept. It was early in the morning of the day after he’d taken Cal as his Padawan, leaving them a scant few months before the Clone Wars kicked off in earnest. If he remembered correctly, the attempted assassination on Senator Amidala would happen in a week’s time, leaving them little time to prepare. It had been one of the inciting incidents of the war, with other senators up in arms that one of their own hadn’t been safe even in her deluxe Coruscant lodgings.

A jolt of panic across the training bond saw Jaro on his feet once more, his chronometer abandoned among his rumpled blankets as he made his way to Cal’s door. He hesitated only briefly before opening it, taking a few steps into the room and then kneeling at Cal’s bedside.

“Cal? You’re safe, I’m here,” he said gently, reaching out through their bond with reassurance and calm. “Come on Cal, time to wake up.”

He picked up one of Cal’s hands, his heart clenching at just how small it seemed against his own. A low whine escaped Cal’s lips mere seconds before he jolted awake, his eyes clouded with confusion and fear. He launched himself at Jaro, wrapping his arms around his neck. Jaro easily caught him, glad he was already low to the ground as it was. He sat firmly on the floor, holding his Padawan close as they both took time to calm down.

“Master?”

“Yes?”

Cal sniffled, pressing his ear against Jaro’s chest to listen to his heartbeat. His body began to relax the longer he listened, Jaro’s broad hand easily spanning his entire back as he supported him. Cal at ten and a half was a small thing, not really hitting his first growth spurt until just before that fated final mission aboard the Albedo Brave.

“I thought you were dead. You were dead and then I left you and-”

“Shh. No need to worry about that any more,” Jaro soothed. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere for a long time. I’m going to still be bothering you when your Padawans have Padawans of their own.”

That earned him a watery laugh, something Jaro would take as a win, no matter how minor. He wasn’t sure exactly how much Cal truly remembered given the Lady’s promise to veil his memories, but finding that out could wait for later. First and foremost, he had a Padawan to comfort. Everything else could wait until morning.