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Prologue

The vision simply began.

It was similar to many Force visions in that it was unrelenting and impossible to deny.

It was dissimilar in that it was not a jumbled series or flashes or a scene somewhere in the galaxy played out that needed interpretation. It was a very specific message from the Force, and they knew it was a message because the scenes were not flashes of reality. It was almost abstract.

While the images might be abstract, the emotions were very real.

In the immediate aftermath, they would realize that all those who were affected were given the vision at the exact same time. It was sent to every member of the Order who could receive the vision safely and was of a reasonable age by species. Safe seemed to mean being dropped by a vision wouldn’t kill you, such as flying a speeder. Of age was very nebulous as most Padawans received the vision, though not all. And even a few initiates who were at least species equivalent of ten, but again, not all.

The vision wasn’t limited to the Knight Corps of the Order. The Service branches were equally and similarly affected amongst those with sensitivity, though it would take days to compile the full list of those who reported having seen vision, though one initiate referred to it as a Force Warning, and the name stuck.

The vision began with a swirling disc of light, seemingly floating in space. Slowly, in what felt like a moment of pain, the disc split into two, gradually drifting apart until they were connected by a bridge of light across a deep expanse.

The discs on either side began to take form, molding themselves into recognizable shapes. Initially, both shapes seemed to be a planet, or perhaps a moon. Then one side shifted, and it became a ship of such ancient design no one could possibly name it. Then the other side would morph and twist.

At one point, one side shifted to what looked like an ancient, Defender-class light corvette—the type used by the Army of Light during the Sith Wars—when the opposite side of the bridge unmistakably shifted to Korriban.

It was clear that the two sides of the bridge were the light and dark sides of the Force.

Interestingly, a single ship in space was the epicenter of light at one point, even though the Jedi temple had long since existed, and had briefly appeared in the morphing shapes on the bridge.

Eventually, the light did center on the Jedi temple on Coruscant with a steady pulse of light at its center, even as the dark side of the bridge continued to morph.

At the same time morphing had been occurring, on the light side of the bridge, shadowy figures in hooded cloaks had formed along the edge of the disc. At first, there’d simply been one group. Then they had split into three groups. Somewhat regardless of grouping, some had gone back toward the center of whatever current shape the Order was taking, some had disappeared into the galaxy at large, while others seemed to simply wait.

It was from amongst those who were waiting that the first to cross the bridge had come.

They’d crossed to the center of the bridge, drawn their saber, held pointed down like a guard might hold a pike and waited.

It was then that the sludge from the other side was noted. A dark, oily substance slowly creeping its way across the bridge. So slowly one wouldn’t even notice if it wasn’t marring the bright surface as it covered more area.

But the waiting figure seemed to know the sludge was there, and when it was close enough, the figure used their saber to slice through the sludge.

A screeching noise filled the vision, and the sludge retreated like an injured vine.

Then, without turning their head, the figure on the bridge pointed into the vastness of space, and light illuminated a dark tentacle that was immediately cut down by one of those who had left to follow the Force’s will many years before.

The cycle was repeated again and again. The figure on the bridge would point to a coordinate in the inky depths of space, and a Jedi would appear in darkness, saber flashing to cut down the dark vines crawling through and blending into the fabric of reality.

Time passed, the shapes of the light and dark aspects would change, and the guardian on the bridge would be replaced. Always cloaked, never recognizable. Sometimes it was obvious that it was a Wookiee or a Togruta, but many times it was one of the thousands of HON species that could not be distinguished under a cloak.

Then there was the day the bridge guardian obviously wore armor under his cloak and had a black lightsaber, and it was apparent who specifically the Force was alluding to. It was no longer mere imagery.

After the disbanding of the Army of Light and the signing of the Ruusan Reformation, when the Jedi Order submitted itself to be ruled by the Senate, the avatar of the light finally settled firmly as the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. The avatar of dark continued to shift, even becoming a Sith holocron for a time.

Then, to everyone’s alarm, the avatar of darkness became the Senate dome on Coruscant. Almost a literal bridge away from the Jedi Order.

At that moment, the guardians began to falter.

They stopped noticing the creeping sludge, wending its way from the senate toward the heart of the Order. Some was stopped, but more was not. Until some finally made their way into the heart of the light.

The guardians stopped pointing to problems in the galaxy at large.

Some guardians seemed confused. One stepped to their post, turned around in a circle, as if they couldn’t understand where they were, and left.

More sludge made its way into the heart of the Order.

A new guardian stepped up before their time and was immediately struck down, a red blade flashing out from the darkness.

The bridge was left unprotected.

The light seemed to be crying.

A very small figure answered the call.

It would be easy to assume the tiny figure was species like Yoda, or a Zilkin or Patitite, but the way the little one tripped on too large robes or the way the hood completely fell over their face said the Force was showing this was a child in an adult’s role.

In fact, they had no lightsaber because even in vision, the bridge guardian’s saber was the same as the saber they’d carried in life, and there had been a couple of very distinctive blades. The Force seemed to be saying this was an initiate who had not been to Ilum yet.

Despite that, the child seemed to do their best and actually would point out darkness in the galaxy, but no one came the way they would have in times of old.

When the darkness came too close to the child, they were able to kick it away, and the dark recoiled.

The child grew, and eventually a blue saber appeared in his hand, though it wasn’t any more effective for him than his feet or hands had been.

Abruptly, something changed. The Force seemed to flow oddly around the child, and then they dropped to their knees. A moment later, a heavy slave collar was buckled around their neck.

It was clear it was a Force suppressing collar as the dark, oily vines immediately began inching their way closer until they were crawling over the child, causing them to collapse to their side.

The darkness was winning.

Shadowy forms, almost spectral, began filling the blank void on either side of the bridge. They were the guardians who had gone before.

They all stood, sabers unlit, and waited.

Something shifted with the child on the bridge, though it was not clear what had changed.

As one, all the former guardians lit their sabers and saluted.

Tarre Vizsla, cloak missing, stepped forward and brushed away the inky blackness covering the small body. Then he carefully removed the slave collar before lifting the body into his arms. He looked towards the Jedi Temple, the avatar of the light side of the force.

His voice was unexpectedly deep, reverberating through the fabric of reality. “The last force guardian has returned home.”

~*~

Yaddle opened her eyes.

The turmoil of those around her and from every Force bond she carried was an immense distraction. She would take the time to arrange her thoughts and share her feelings with the Force later, but first she had to act.

With a shaking hand, she pulled up her comm and sent a high-priority group message to everyone in her lineage. The message would be innocuous to anyone who was able to get through the encryption, but everyone in her lineage knew basic Shadow protocols. Certainly not everyone was a Shadow, far from it, but she’d ensured everyone, right down to the youngest padawan, knew all the benign codes that were used in her lineage to convey urgency, and what type of issue was at hand.

The codes she’d sent instructed them all to return to her at the temple immediately if they could extricate themselves safely. If they couldn’t extricate themselves safely, send for aid stat. They were to accept instructions from none but her or Jaro, though refuge could be accepted from their trusted network, which was a small group of other Masters and Knights she implicitly trusted.

She immediately got a reply from Jaro that even before the message that the Force had sent him on a very specific mission, and she wasn’t going to be dissuaded. He was headed for Bandomeer first. He was only a few hours away.

Bandomeer.

Something about that tickled the back of her brain. There was a mission request there recently, she thought.

Her comm was lighting up with messages from the other Council members, but she needed a moment and some tea to sort herself out.

Before her hands had even stopped shaking enough to make tea, she had another vision, though brief and much less traumatic. Also, less open to interpretation.

She wasn’t prone to visions, so to have two in one day was the absolute limit, but she’d have her tea and get on with the business of sorting out the aftermath of this day.

All the messages from the Council were on her very last nerve, so she sent a message to the whole Council saying they would convene in one hour to give everyone time to sort themselves out and assist those around them. And, no, she wasn’t accepting another answer. They needed to shut down speculation and put a bandage on the situation. They needed to provide hands-on leadership, not immediately seclude themselves.

Also, she needed to stop by the archives because she was pretty sure the Force’s second vision was telling Yaddle how to unfuck this situation if it was as bad as she feared it was.

As she took a few spare moments to drink some tea and release her fear and anxiety into the Force so that she was in the right frame of mind to help others, she thought of the image of the temple slowly being infiltrated by those black, oily vines. She had to acknowledge that any attempts to work the problem with the Council might be for naught. The dark had been corrupting them from inside for many, many years now.

It took only a bare moment of self-reflection to see all the instances of the dark influencing them.

She was also certain that the Council would spend hours arguing about the symbolism of the avatar of the dark side of the Force, but she was absolutely certain that it wasn’t symbolic. It was probably two-fold. One that their submission to a body like the Senate was a corrupting influence, but more importantly, that there was an actual Sith in the Senate.

She set her half-empty cup of tea down and left her quarters, prepared to go to war.

She just hoped it wasn’t with Yoda.