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I sat in subtle silence long after Master Armiena departed, the remnants of her reaction playing over and over in my head. Her words, the clenched jaw, the emotionless tone, the guarded mentality, even if she did not present it or speak it, I knew for certain that I had accidentally touched a nerve. And because of that, I felt guilt knotting up in my shoulders and plaguing my mind. I had never been one very good at properly expressing myself.

 

So I left her to her devices, at least, for the moment being, unsure to where she had went off to. Perhaps she simply needed a breather. Or perhaps she simply needed a moment away from me. I wasnt quite sure, but I left it as is, still sitting within the cockpit with worry in my eyes. I wondered if I had crossed a line. I worried with whether or not she would still wish to be my Master. I even worried whether or not I deserved to be her student. But what plagued me more than the worry were the words she spoke before she even left the room. She was a Jedi, a former Grandmaster of the Order. How could she not be a Jedi anymore? Had conflict caused her soul to become so weary, so exhausted?

 

My thoughts were abruptly pushed aside as the large sounds of impacts above, startling me to reality as my gaze shifted upward to them. And then the growing familiar hiss and humm of an activating lightsaber before it began striking something aboard caused my to react and I quickly went after her. Following the sounds of her strikes amidst the crimson glow of emergency lighting, I passed the common areas of the upper deck and ran straight toward the seized portal now vibrantly glowing with the molten metal where the saber had struck. And within, Armiena knelt, tossing wires and circuit boards, metal plates, and anything that her hand gripped behind her like garbage.

 

"Master?..." I spoke, extending my hand before quickly drawing it back, unsure of how to approach the situation, before I simply extended my hand completely and gripped her shoulder. "I am sorry if my words hurt you. I know you're not like other Jedi, and I know you mean well. But you are a Jedi nonetheless." I spoke carefully, letting my heart guide my words as the room settled to the same subtle silence I sat in below. "I just ask that you allow me to be the Jedi that I am destined to be, just as your life guided you to be the one that you are."

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Armiena responded by pulling a knife from her belt. It wasn’t an exquisitely balanced, painstakingly honed vibroblade designed for killing one’s fellow man, but rather a five-centimeter folding knife better suited for snipping away stray pieces of fabric from one’s clothing. She plunged it into the cityscape of computer chips and teased away a length of superconducting wire. Still looking away from her student, she began to coil the length of wire around her flesh-and-blood hand.

 

There were several kilometers of wire within this panel of the sensor array. It was a few minutes and at least two lightsabers’ worth of wiring before the veteran Jedi spoke again.

 

“My last Padawan was from Dantooine. He would have been a little bit older than you by now. I’ve been a bit distracted.” But Arlan’s death was an old pain--it may have been a massive, sucking chest wound, but it had since healed after leaving a scar that could ignored.

 

“So be it, Jedi,” Armiena said with a nod. “Almost everything you will need for your lightsaber can be found on this ship. That Adegan might be suitable for your crystals--I’ve probably got a sensor somewhere on this ship and some cutting tools. Those texts you grabbed from Mandate should have detailed information on the specifications of the parts, mineral content and clarity of the crystal, but... the Force has a tendency to guide you in the right direction in these matters. While you’re tearing this ship apart, I’ll be acquainting myself with the lathe.”

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I smiled half heartedly as Master Armiena finally acknowledged my choice, but I could still tell that she wanted more from me, more for me really. But I was young and naive, and wanted life to define me. Perhaps not the wisest choice, but still better than most. So as she left, I contemplated on her previous words.... words about her previous Padawan and how she spoke of him in a past tense, making me wonder of his own fate and what he was like.

 

Like she said, most of the parts that the data listed were easily found. The descriptions made them vividly recognizable. But the hardest part was the frame and angle I was looking for, as well as the sleeve, just among a few other parts. And after nearly an hour of trying to force pieces together and makeshift a few items I felt would work, I frustratedly tossed aside yet another failed attempt. I sighed briefly, sitting back from my perched position over the pile of scrap onto the floor and bit my thumbnail as I thought about her last words and what she was going to focus on.

 

Master Armiena obviously had more experience than I did at forging a lightsaber than myself, especially considering I had only recently considered forging one in the first place. And that's when I remembered her words about the Force guiding me, causing the lightbulb above my head to vibrantly shine. So I sat there, opening my mind to the Force with the vision I held of my saber in my mind and saw its pieces strewn about. I felt the design I wanted and wondered how to properly fit to together, from the emitter and focusing lens down to the curved hilt and cylindrical casing being as smooth as the ice of Ilum, with the leather of its forward grip sitting seamlessly beneath its casing. And that's when it hit me.

 

The parts were there, and I could see everything as if I knew the ship inside and out. Just behind the paneling Armiena had been stripping held a wire fuselage frame that would fit the angling perfectly. And back in the cockpit, sat a lever with the same angle that the frame would fit perfectly in made from Ultrachrome. And down the hall in the common area sat leathered seat that could easily provide the grip where the lever once had one. Everything, though strewn about, was there, just as she had said. Running about, the constant clanking of my hurried feet from one side to the other, up and back down, could be heard as I went about collecting the parts. 

 

And once that was done, I quickly found Armiena, the panting of my breath recognizable by my previous rushings with all in my hand. Yet I spoke not a word as I stood there, gazing at her lost in her moment, and waited for confirmation.

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Like a pilgrim before an altar, Armiena sat within the massive suite of tools that comprised the machinist's workshop aboard the McShipface. Most holy altars did not include a plasma torch, industrial-grade lathe, tri-D molecular printer, and enough computing power to rival the cumulative efforts of the engineering department of a mid-tier university, but Armiena's were strange gods, as were their rituals. Her oversized robe had been cast onto the computer terminals in favor of a synthleather apron; a pair of dark-tinted goggles were drawn over her eyes; the lower half of her face was obscured by the bulk of a filtered respirator.

 

Foul vapors and flakes of durasteel were being scattered upwards as she placed her hands directly into the path of the industrial lathe to spot-weld attachments to a cylinder that was rapidly being cut into the shape of a lightsaber hilt.The design of the weapon was simple, even crude. It was little more than a burnished piece of steel with inserts for switches and grips, of an awkward length that was unconventionally long for a standard lightsaber, but short for a double-blade.

 

As the hilt began to take form, Draygo was… singing. Her voice was better suited for making her orders and taunts heard over the din of battle, over the whine of blaster fire and deafness inflicted by the concussion of a nearby explosion. Volume was something she had mastered after decades of war. Tempo and tone were secondary priorities.

 

Tertiary was perhaps a better estimation.

 

The veteran Jedi gave no indication that she was aware of the approach of her apprentice. Her senses were focused on the electric soul of her workshop, and Genesis’ footfalls were inaudible over the metallic grinding and shrieking noises from the lathe. There was also the matter of her terrible singing. It wasn’t until Draygo lifted her face from the ribbons of durasteel that were being sliced away from the lightsaber hilt and noticed the reflection in the polished metal that she became aware of his presence.

 

She ticked down four minutes on her hand.

 

Finally, she snatched the hilt from the lathe, her metal hand wholly unaware of the fact that it was gripping a piece of friction-heated steel. “Not my most ornate work, but definitely the most complicated.” She gave an wolfish grin. “Wiring this is going to be fun.”

 

She glanced at the components that her apprentice had mustered. The calculations that her mind was racing through were almost visible through her eyes. “Curved? That’s… unfamiliar. Probably best to tackle it in multiple sections and weld. The Force guides.”

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I nodded my head in agreement, taking my place next to her at the work station as I laid the parts out before me as they fell from their hold with both my crossed arms, falling upon it with clanks and sounds of metal scratching against metal as they spread out. Next to me, I laid the datapad with design sprawled across its screen, a nervous pit in my stomach as I realized that I had never really put anything together, having always did stripping and separating as a scavenger and what little skill I did possess in making anything was no more than primitive means. But if I was going to do this, I was going to make sure I did this right. And so I began, first by separating the parts from the wiring and components, placing the sleeve and casing aside for last.

 

And so my work began, carefully zooming in along each section to inspect how each fit together, where each part connected to the next, and where possible modifications would need to be made. Hours would pass as I made mental notes here and there, scrolling from one page to the next, searching for the design I had embedded into my mind until a full picture began to unfold in my head and I slowly began to grab parts and components and began to put them together, the fumes of soldering wires and the sounds of frustration filled the air. Then next came the framing, using the fuselage I grabbed earlier to fit the pieces in place as I meticulously followed the design I envisioned. From placing the emitter and lenses at the forefront to the power cell containment at the rear, it began to strangely form the inner workings of a semitrically curved hilt. But I still didn't seem to feel right to what I envisioned, so I set it aside and took out the Pontite crystal that I had carried for so long, its swirling color mesmerizing my gaze as it pulsed with life.

 

They say Kyber Crystals are living crystals, born of the Force and intune with those it chooses as its weilder. And the Pontite variant is even rarer, able to enhance its weilder's affinity in the Force its self. But whether or not that this was true, I could not say. All I knew was when I looked at it, I felt the presence of home within it, like the plains of Dantooine lived within it, its color reminiscent of the its turquoise glow from space. And as I looked deeper into it, I could feel the Force flowing from me into it as if it was a part of me, my memories of my childhood, my adolescence, and even my time of under Master Armiena flowing through my mind and through it. It was a strange feeling to behold, but it brought me a sense of clarity as I stared at it. And in that moment, I decided to shift my design slightly.

 

Grabbing the tools needed, I began to carve away at crystal. More hours would pass and before I even realized the time that had already passed, I was alone in the moment that took me. Like Dantooine its self, and the life that had forged me and came full circle upon the very planet that I tried to run from, I slowly carved the crystal from it's natural state into one of crystal clarity, a jewel of Dantooine, a orb of life, and finally into a gem that glowed like the planet its self: a perfectly circular crystal to fit into its proper place within the hilt.

 

And when it grew time to place it in its proper place, I had yet to realize that I had been at it already for three days, lost within the moment of forging the weapon it ached to be. Now would come the moment of truth, all parts properly aligned as much as physical touch could perfect, and the test of a Jedi came to call my skill. Opening myself to the Force, I opened myself to its call. The casing, the sleeve, the frame, and the crystal all began to encircle my form as I pressed the etched vision in my mind to bring it to life. First the frame hovered before me, the imperfected alignments shifting to perfection, then the crystal taking its place at its heart near the ignition switch cut from a sliver of the crystal that would lay beneath its sleeve and casing, activating only upon the call of the Force and not by the hands of outsiders. And then the insulated sleeve wrapped its self around the frame, ensuring that even lightning could not harm its contents, a lesson that I had learned upon Coruscant. And finally, it shifted into the casing, the lever I had taken from the cockpit made of Ultracrome with the sliver of leather replacing the former metallic grip that once adorned it removed with the leather providing the forward grip for such a hilt. Sleek and sophisticated, I felt the hilt fall softly into my hand as the final piece fell into place, a circular clip at its bottom, adorned with smaller crystal orbs salvaged from the very crystal at its heart. It was finished.

 

Shifting my eyes around for Armiena, I did not realize the toll the whole experience had taken upon me nor my form as the shifting of my eyes caused my head to grow light and my stomach to feel queasy from hunger, still unaware that a total of five days had past since I began. As I laid back and gave into my weakened state, all I could do was tell for her, unsure whether she was near or far. "Master"

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Starships, especially ones as pedestrian as a Barloz-class Freighter, are not silent when in operation. There was the ever present hum of sublight engines, the keening whine of repulsorlifts, and a hundred mysterious and unnerving moans and creaks and rattles to frighten inexperienced spacers or to alert their crews that the capabilities of their vessel and home were being stretched to their limits. At the very least, there would be the ever-present hiss of air venting through its compartments to reassure its denizens that they weren’t in danger of suffocation or hypothermia. Save for the occasional whisper-clunk of its life support systems turning over to keep the interior at a reasonably comfortable temperature, McShipface was utterly silent.

 

There was no answer. Genesis’ master was many kilometers away. Where, she had not left details on--though the absence of a speeder bike and several days of rations from the ship’s galleys hinted that she had intended to be absent for some time.. With any luck, the half-Miraluka would forestall panic long enough to find a note left in the cockpit, scrawled with a rough hand that had punctured the flimsi while writing on the ship’s control boards.

 

Need to go.

Don’t know where.

Just a feeling.

Think I’ll be back soon.

 

_____

 

At that moment, Draygo was more than four thousand kilometers away. Peering through the visor of a plastoid face-shield, her eyes were fixed on a point somewhere beyond the horizon. The veteran Jedi still had not determined what destination the Force had chosen for her, but it was not the abandoned Enclave on Khoonda. Nor was it, mercifully enough, Arlan’s home village--Draygo had never visited it, but she had never been much for tearful, dramatic conversations at memorials. Or memorials in general.

 

The engine continued to roar. The sea of grasses continued on, interrupted only by the crest of the occasional hill or the impacts of thoroughly surprised pollinators on her face-shield. Hours later, it began to rain. Armiena considered pausing to wait out what was promising to be a torrential downpour, but instinct insisted that she continue--that it was absolutely critical that she not pause at this moment. At the apex of yet another hill, Draygo found her landspeeder plummeting as it fell over the precipice of a ridgeline. She spat out a curse and shifted her weight back to lift the control vanes, allowing the speeder bike to coast to a jarring but controlled landing above a layer of mud.

 

Armiena caught a glimpse of her destination while descending. It was the rotted husk of an abandoned war machine. It was many stories tall, but it the rusted chassis had been picked over by scavengers so thoroughly that she was unable to recognize the model.

 

At the speed of hundreds of klicks per hour, Draygo spanned the remaining distance in mere minutes. During those minutes, Armiena only sighted the barest scraps of grass on the muddy prairie--no trees or any vegetation more complex than a shrub, and no fauna save for insects and a few foraging birds that could weather the rain. More eerie than the emptiness was the flatness of the muddy grassland--it was as flat as a megablock of Coruscant, as though the entire plain had been constructed by a mediocre architect or--

 

Draygo hit the airbrakes and pulled the speeder bike aside to a rough halt. Dismounting from the bike, she sank up to her ankles in the mud. She began a slow scan of the horizon, seeing nothing but mud and a few patches of stubborn vegetation on the perfectly flat prairie. It hadn’t been constructed. It had been demolished--pounded flat.

 

The rusted skeleton of a war machine was that of a Confederacy seismic tank.

 

Armiena had forgotten her history. During the Clone War, there had been a battle fought on Dantooine. The books were a bit hazy on the justification for the Republic and CIS committing so many forces to the Outer Rim planet, not even notable for its agricultural output during those years--it was likely that the justification had simply been to squander as many resources as possible, and so much the better if that meant the deaths of a few Jedi.

 

But what could the Force had hoped to show her on this long-abandoned battlefield? Mud sucking her boots deep into the ground with every step, the veteran Jedi began to cross the final fifty meters to the shelter of the wreck of the seismic tank. All the meanwhile, the rain began to come down harder and harder, and the mud grew deeper around her ankles.

 

The Battle of Dantooine was perfectly emblematic of the Clone War. It was a pointless conflict fought on a Rim world, distant enough from the Core that it did not pose an immediately threaten the everyday lives of the Republic’s citizenry--but also close enough to Galactic shipping lanes that it posed a minor crisis. Invaded by a seemingly limitless army of battle droids, the Republic’s slave army of clones had nearly been overwhelmed and likely would have lost control of the insignificant world had it not been for the leadership and deadly skill of Master Windu and a few other Jedi.

 

And emblematic of the Clone War, their victory served no strategic purpose. Those destroyed battle droids would have been replaced only weeks later.

 

Her boots squelching into the sodden ground, Draygo was seized by a sudden impulse that she must not take one more step forward. There was… something below her, some kind of mechanical awareness. Armiena reached out with the Force and hauled it upwards through the mud.

 

Flat, expressionless, and heavily armored--Armiena recognized the silhouette instantly--it was the armored faceplate of a B2 battle droid. Even cleaved in two at the waist, the droid had remained functional and retained enough of its malicious intent to level its forearm blaster at Draygo’s neck. Self-preservation took over. The veteran Jedi stepped forward and placed her hand directly over the barrel of the blaster cannon. Heat washed over her as the droid fired repeatedly, but she absorbed the energy of the blasts and drew her own sidearm. She punched the blaster pistol into the hanging mess of the droid’s mechanical entrails and pulled the trigger until its dim lindicator lights died out and its cannon arm dropped lifelessly.

 

Armiena let the droid fall to the mud, splashing filth over her chest, face and her mouth. She had been smiling during this unexpected confrontation. She stared into its dead faceplate for a long time. The apex of the storm came and went, the dark clouds gradually making away for a humid and overcast noon. Was this what the Force had intended to show her? That despite decades of war, Armiena loved conflict--that she loved battle and victory? That she was a creature completely unsuited for peacetime?

 

She received no answer from the Force. She did, however, receive an interesting question.

 

And at the very least, Draygo had found a minor treasure trove of lightsaber parts.

 

____


It would be two more days until the roar of her speeder bike approached McShipface. Her robes crusted with dried mud, her eyes bloodshot and crazed from staring into the horizon for two days with only her thoughts for company, and with the mechanical corpse of an obsolete battle droid lashed to her mount, Armiena was a forboding sight. She was exhausted--but she was alive.

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Unconsciousness, it was a lingering feeling as I laid there trying to pull myself from upon the floor. It was a state in which I flowed to and from as hunger and sleep deprivation took its hold, the times I could awaken to see blurred by. And so, occassionally, all I could do was give in, letting the moments of darkness take me and fly by until i could manage to open my eyes again, attempting to fight to regain my reality.

 

Day break finally pierced the veiled gaze i managed to look through as the Force began to slowly return through my moments of sleep, my lips coarse and my throat dry as my voice once again called for her by name. But Armiena was far, and I too weak to reach her or find her through the Force. So I managed to crawl myself from the room I was in. It felt like hours had passed before I finally made it to my gear, reaching in and pulling forth a few nutrition bars from it and nearly choking as i scarfed them down in large bites, using the water i had to wash it down before i regurgitated it all back up due to the haste of my hunger. But grabbing another, I slowly began to eat my fill.

 

Before I knew it, another day had passed. I felt my strength returning well enough that I managed to make it to the cockpit in order to see if i could locate Master Armiena, but I instead found her note. I chuckled as I sat there reading it. Typical of her, but I felt the pain this planet held for her, so it was understandable. Dantooine held a similar pain for myself, and i soon found myself outside the ship as well looking in the very direction to where it laid. I supposed to myself that since I was here, and had a little time, it warranted a visit if only to see the old homestead. I needed to find closure in my old life if I was to truly move into my new one. And so with a bag packed, and my addition to the note that @ObliviousKnight had left that simple spoke 'Going Home for a quick Visit', I departed.

 

The Stormhelm homestead wasn't but half a days walk through the tundra of Dantooine, past the ancient Jedi Enclave and past the old  Caves where my whole journey had began, and sat not too far from the old outpost where DSF had stationed themselves many years ago outside the Ruins of the Builders. When it came into view, it was almost nostalgic. The scents, the feel of the breeze rushing through the nearby crevasse that tunneled it across the plains, even the squeaking of the old swing, all brought back painful but memorable memories that brought both tears from my eye and a smile to my face. And as I sat my bag down on the rotted timber of the front steps and sat down, I stared out into those memories as time began to fly by.

 

Sitting there, I pulled the saber from my hip, my mind pondering if my mother and father were there with me, wondering if there was a sense of pride within their spirits, at the man I had become. And a part of me knew that it was true. Rising, I got up and walked inside, carefully treading as the old boards creaked with the pressure of my weight, my gaze shifting around as I strolled down memory lane. The sight and smell of my mother's cooking. The laughter of my father as he came in from work and kissed the love of his life like he hadn't seen her in months. It was almost picturesque, and memories I had not remembered in so long that they felt not of my own. And then I turned toward my old room, dark and closed off. Opening its door, I could barely see where I once laid my head, taking my saber in hand and activating it. But it did not ignite, a confused look crossing my face. Did I not assemble it correctly? It didn't explode, so that was a good sign. Shaking my head, I flipped the switch back off and clipped it to my hip, figuring I would have Armiena inspect it upon my return and instead ignited a flare.

 

My bedroom was just as I had left it that morning, toys still strolled about on the dusted sheets. Over on my desk were parts that could only be described as trinkets from the spaceport I called home after their deaths. And on the shelves were books, mostly children books about Jedi and Republic war heroes, even a few science fiction ones about Galaxies not of my own, one noted as Terra Nova, a planet once called Earth that my writer decided to throw in to relate with me. Closing the door as I departed, I noticed that the sun had began to set, so I settled in for the night, taking the couch where mother used to bounce me on her knee when she wanted quality time with me. Taking a bar out of my bag, I ate at it, making sure to finish regaining my strength that had been waning since the construction of my lightsaber. And after a few swallows of water, I tossed the flare out the window and let the setting sun grow dark as did my own world.

 

Memories would take hold and plague my dreams that night, horrifying and dark. It was the memory of that day, the memory that I had been fighting since I chose to walk the path of the Jedi. It always started out the same, my father's smile, my mother's laugh, my mischief and their enjoyment of it despite the harsh repercussions that I usually brought upon myself at the hands of my mother's switches. But for some reason, that day, she did not scold or discipline me, rather smiling and laughing instead with a bittersweet enjoyment of the day. But then came the blood, the death, the darkness of it all as the Krath Hounds slew and tore them apart, my mother's sacrifice that saved me and my ending the lives of the Krath's and their pup.

 

"Genesis..." I heard my mother cry as those moments flashed over and over in my mind, my form tossing and turning in a cold sweat upon that familiar couch. "Genesis.... run. Get out of here!"

 

These were the last of her words I remember from that day as I grabbed father's blade, but this time, it resounded too realistically and I jumped awake with deep gasps from my slumber. I looked outside into the star filled sky, throwing my legs over onto the floor and wiping the sweat from my face as I buried it into my hands. The flare had long gone out, and the house was as dark as the emptiness of space. So I stood up and walked to the door, stopping short of its frame as I heard a rumbling growl just outside. It was a growl I was all too familiar with, and my heart raced with the reality of it just as it did that day.

 

Kath Hounds.

 

Grabbing my bag, I searched desperately for a weapon of any kind, something to defend myself. But I had left all that behind and only brought my lightsaber. I cursed silently under my breath, placing the bag over my shoulders as I tried to locate the hound. I could use the Force to defend myself, but at this time of year and given the solace of my location, it was a pack of them and they were hungry. Not even a blaster would deter them against one singular being of prey. My only choice would be to run, and I would have to run fast to escape the likelyhood of at least three. And as silent as it was, I could hear two of them on the porch, which meant I couldn't get an accurate number. Whatever plan I was going to come up, I would have to come up with it fast. I knew they could smell me, but a simple creak of the wood beneath my feet would give away my position.

 

And sure enough, as i leaned back to try and get a view out the window, it did. Before i knew it, one of the two came crashing through the window, causing me to rush out the door and into view of the other. So I ran. I ran as fast as I could as the two bulls began their pursuit. Opening my mind and body to the flow of the force, my form became as light as a feather, crossing the plains in a haste I had never charged before. But with the sounds of snapping branches and horrific growls behind me, I did not choose to look back nor slow down, the fear and panic within me echoing of that day so many years ago.

 

One managed to keep up, the other only lagged by the beast in front of him, and i could feel its intent to pounce just as it did, causing me to zag to the right and out of instinct, I shoved the beast aside with a luckily well placed push of the Force. But it caused me to slow and the second beast closed the gap. Picking up speed, I darted toward the crevasse ahead of me, hoping that I could make it and bottleneck myself in instead of dealing with the two beasts on both sides, possibly causing them to collide and loose enough ground for my escape. But I hadn't learnt my lesson years ago, Kath Hounds albeit beasts, were abnormally intelligent and the third waited for me there. This was why they stood as some of the best hunters this side of the Galaxy and now I was pinned.

 

I stood there, encircled, the fear of death gripping as my heart, as they playfully circled me. But I had already chosen that I would fight even if I died this day, just as my parents did so long ago, and as they each took turns charging at me, only to be brushed away by my touch of the Force, I finally understood why my parents fought and died that day. It wasn't just ensure my survival like I had always believed. But it was to feed the hungry by offering themselves up as sacrifices so that their bellies would be full by the time it came my turn. They wanted me to live, wanted me to become the man that I had become. It was in that moment, standing off against the darkness of nature, that I understood the life they saw for me. And it was in that understanding that my views began to shift. For so long I felt that my living was a mistake, my life no more important than the next. Even the pup I had slaughtered that day in anger. But now I knew, just as Master Armiena had said, that we fight until our fight is done and only then can we truly rest. And in that moment, I felt the presence of my mother and father upon the passing wind, the scent of them flowing within, and as the three attacked in an almost unison pattern for the final kill, I grabbed my saber, pulling the force within me and unleashing it in all directions as the turquoise blade sprung to life. Guilt free and realizing that my fight had just begun, I attacked.

 

Charging up the backside of the closest Kath, I spun myself, feeling the curved hilt of my blade shift within my palm as it struck the hide of the beast before i landed head on with it, my gaze revealing my intent to fight until i could fight no more. In that moment, I saw its hesitation just as one of the other's charged from behind me, my form twirling and twisting as I ran the tip of my blade across it's back, blood spewing across my form in its passing. And lastly, I turned toward the third, running up it's face and striking its horn as I cleaved it in two. And as I turned, all three took off and left me beaten and bruised, a couple of ribs cracked and my robes torn where one managed to slice open my arm. Deactivating my blade, I fell to one knee, aching in pain, watching as the sun began to rise. 

 

After applying what little healing I could muster, and bandaging the rest, I would arrive a day later after Armiena's own return, covered in blood from the battle the night before, wounded, and tired. But in my hand i held the Kath's horn. And on my hip, my saber, humming upon the flow of the Force with my newfound resolve. I may not have to kill, but a Jedi is forged to fight against whatever odds they may face. That is the path of the Jedi. That was the path i was meant to walk. I, Jedi.

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