Chapter Text
He doesn’t know where he is, only that he is sitting. Around him is nothing but black. Darkness swirls in smoky clouds, surrounding the room. He looks around, then stands, shaky and disoriented.
What is this place?
Screams begin in the distance. Guttural, shrill, in agony. Mournful wails. Death rattles. It’s the sounds of suffering.
Blasters fire. Rapid shots that cut off with a new scream. The sound of a lightsaber slicing through the air, through bodies, through flesh. He runs towards the noise. His heart is pounding in his chest, fearing the worst.
“What are you doing?”
The voice is familiar. Familiar enough that it draws him to a panicked stop before he turns the corner. “Mando!” he calls.
The Mandalorian stands, his blaster in hand. Across from him stands a small figure, cloaked, but almost impossible to not recognize. Around them are the bodies of Mandalorians, bodies slashed or sliced apart. His heart stops as the hood falls.
Yellow eyes, rimmed with red, stare back at the Mandalorian.
“Kuiil,” the Mandalorian pleads. “Stop. You have to stop.”
The red lightsaber hums at Kuiil’s side. He doesn’t move, staring at the Mandalorian. His expression is of angry determination.
“Ad’ika. Please. Udesiir. None of this is right.” The Mandalorian sinks to his knees. He places the blaster down beside him. “This is your family. Gar aliit. Listen to me, please.”
“Mando! No!”
Kuiil watches him. He doesn’t move. His expression softens--or it’s only a trick of the light. The Mandalorian reaches a hand out to him, trembling.
“Kill him,” a voice commands. A figure cloaked in black steps out of the dark clouds, into the light. His face is masked by a hood, his voice deep. “Or you will never be free.”
The boy’s gaze hardens again. He twirls the lightsaber and steps closer.
“N-No.” The Mandalorian grabs the blaster and pushes himself back. “No. Kuiil. No. Listen to me, to buir, please, you know how wrong this--”
“Now!”
Kuiil lunges. The Mandalorian shoots but it’s dodged with ease and the lightsaber swings in bright arc. It meets the beskar of a vambrace, hissing as it bites into the metal. The Mandalorian gasps for breath. He kicks out, shoving Kuiil back, but the boy catches himself and lunges again.
The Mandalorian dives out of the way. “I can’t fight you,” he pleads. “Kuiil. Whatever he’s promised you isn’t worth--”
He’s shoved back, slamming against the wall, and falls to the floor. He lets out a groan, then cocks his blaster at Kuiil. “Cyar’ika,” he whispers. Kuiil pauses. “Ner ad. Ner ik’aad.”
For a moment, everything is still.
Then the Mandalorian twists his wrist and fires a bolt at the cloaked figure. It stops in mid-air, halfway before its target. For a second, it only hovers in the air, and the Mandalorian sucks in a breath. Kuiil’s arm is outstretched. Then the bolt shoots in reverse. The Mandalorian flinches and groans as the bolt deflects off his pauldron.
A lightsaber plunges through his heart.
“No!”
The Mandalorian slumps to the floor, still and unmoving. The room falls silent. Kuiil steps over his legs and stands in front of the helmet, staring down into the visor. It reflects him back, the lightsaber thrumming and his eyes yellow.
He murmurs beneath his breath.
“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.”
“Splendid work, my pet,” the figure drawls.
The lightsaber shuts off with a hiss. Kuiil places the lightsaber on his belt, then reaches up and snaps off something at his neck. He places it down beside the Mandalorian--the skull of a mythosaur. Then he turns and walks towards the figure. After a few steps, he leaps and lands on his shoulder, clinging with ease.
“You’ve learned much.”
Kuiil doesn’t respond. The figure turns and begins walking again into the darkness.
“Skywalker.”
But Kuiil whips around to look back, demonic eyes staring into his own.
“Luke!”
Luke jerks awake, staring ahead. Those same eyes are looking into his own, the same sith in his lap--
Then he hears a squeak and realizes what’s happening. Kuiil is sitting in his lap, staring up at him with wide eyes-- brown eyes, no yellow but for the specs of gold within. Luke is gripping him by the shoulders, far too tight.
In an instant, Luke lets go, breathless.
“It’s okay. You just scared him.”
To his left, the Mandalorian stands. Whole. Fine. No trace of a lightsaber through his chest. His arms are crossed until he reaches out his arm to Kuiil. The boy has a guilty expression as he looks at Luke, then he turns and jumps onto the Mandalorian’s wrist, climbing up onto his shoulder.
“Maz said you got here last night,” the Mandalorian says. “We just landed.”
Luke just stares at him.
“... We’ll wait for you in the room.” The Mandalorian turns and walks down the tunnel. Kuiil clings to his pauldron. Luke watches them go, until they make a turn and disappear from sight.
He falls back on the bed and takes a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling.
This hasn’t been the first nightmare involving the Djarins. It’s just one of many in the last several weeks, the same results via different methods. But all have been the same. Kuiil slaughters the Mandalorians, and there’s some cloaked figure--Gideon, maybe--who goads him to continue. Din Djarin always tries to reason with him. He’s always cut down.
But Kuiil isn’t a sith. There is darkness inside him but there is no indication of sith-like behavior. He’s a sweet boy. He’s kind and considerate, bratty at times, he hates lying and loves to play. He’s innocent and naive and loves his father more than anything.
The nightmares--or visions, Luke isn’t sure anymore--want to suggest otherwise.
He sighs and pushes himself out of bed, smoothing back his hair and grabbing his cloak. Din Djarin has little to no trust in his idea of memory retrieval. Acting strange or distracted would only draw his suspicion.
So he pulls on the cloak and his boots. He begins walking down the tunnel, following the path the two had taken.
When he steps into their room--a small, quiet one, unused by Maz--the two are waiting for him. Kuiil is sitting on the mat, floating a group of toys in front of him. The Mandalorian is at a table against the wall, examining his blaster. Both are talking in their language.
They stop as he enters. Kuiil gives him a smile, but there’s still guilt clear in his eyes. The Mandalorian gives him a nod.
Don’t use his name, even if you know it, Maz had told him. Mandalorians are cautious with their names. It is a symbol of trust to know them. Don’t speak his unless he gives it.
He’s had to catch himself numerous times.
He gives Kuiil a smile and sits down opposite him, cross-legged.
“Su’cuy!” Kuiil says.
“Su’cuy,” Luke responds. To the side, the Mandalorian huffs but doesn’t speak. Kuiil teaching Luke words in Mando’a has been something the Mandalorians get worked up about but as far as he knows, they haven’t actually told him to stop.
“Me’vaar ti gar?”
Luke hesitates, thinking. “...Narser?”
Kuiil shakes his head.
“Kaysh mirsh solus,” the Mandalorian mutters with an amused breath.
Kuiil whips around. “Don’t be mean!” he snaps.
The Mandalorian stiffens, then leans back, looking as chastised as one could be with a hidden face.
Luke looks at him, then back at Kuiil. He pauses, then tries, “... Naas?”
Kuiil smiles and nods. “Nothing new!”
Luke smiles. He adjusts to straighten his back. “Ready?”
Kuiil nods again and matches Luke’s posture, straightening up. The Mandalorian often reminds him to fix his posture, but he typically slouches. Luke bows his head and closes his eyes, and knows Kuiil does the same.
Both their minds reach out, connecting, and in an instant, the rest of the room fades away.
Kuiil’s presence is warm and gentle. It’s just as kind and sweet and welcoming as the boy is, and Luke enjoys the comfort it brings. It’s so difficult to look at the child, feel his energy, and even imagine that there’s any darkness there at all. But it lingers at the edges, ever present, and Luke can feel it if he tries.
This time, he doesn’t try to find it, and instead allows their minds to blend together. Kuiil opens his consciousness like they’ve practiced, and both breathe in sync as he allows Luke to delve in deep. He makes a small whimper, but then quiets—the sensation certainly can’t be pleasant.
Luke pushes further into his mind. Kuiil allows it. This is what they’ve been working at, just allowing the boy’s consciousness to open and reveal what is hidden. Luke senses memories--very recent ones. Some are locked away, clouded by white smoke, private things. But hiding is difficult and tiring, so he lets some peek out, allowing Luke to see.
Held in his father’s arms, giggling as he’s tossed in the air and caught again.
Playing with another child, moving blocks.
Watching stars go by from the front of a ship.
Happy. Happy memories. But not what they’re looking for.
When Kuiil whimpers again, his concentration wavering, Luke knows they’re getting closer. It’s uncomfortable to have someone poking so deep in his mind. The hidden memories are revealed, energy directed towards staying focused, and Kuiil takes a shaky breath.
I won’t look, Luke thinks to him, even as dozens of memories seem to shout their content at him. Voices and noises, talking and laughing and yelling and crying all blend together. Pain and sadness and joy and contentment all rush at him.
One jumps out, demanding to be seen. Kuiil is young, still a baby, curled up beneath something--it’s dark, shadowy, in hiding. The Mandalorian is lying on the floor, in the light, an arm reached underneath. He talks, begging the child to come out, that he’s sorry.
He’s helmetless, but his facial features are too distorted to see anything. The child feels betrayed.
Luke tears his attention away from the memory, even as it weighs at him.
Instead, he presses on.
He approaches their limit—he knows because the memories become sparser, shorter, more flashes of sight and smell and hearing than anything else. A soft voice whispering, singing a lullaby. The smell of cooking meat. Blurry lights.
Kuiil begins to pant, whimper, clearly distressed. Then it eases, slightly, and Luke senses the Mandalorian has come closer, is sitting beside Kuiil to rub his back and steady him. Kuiil’s noises quiet down, and Luke pushes deeper.
Past the limit.
A memory drifts before him, hidden through the darkness. Bright lights. A hallway. Noises--rhythmic, loud, approaching, like marching feet. The child plays on the floor. He crawls after his toys and tosses them into the air with the Force, making them fly and spin about. He giggles, delighted.
Someone else is in the room. Two people. Maybe more. They’re talking, but their voices are only a background rumble to the child’s focus. Look up, Luke thinks. See who’s with you.
Only background rumble. Kuiil didn’t know what the words meant then. So the meaning doesn’t appear in the memory. But it’s exactly what he’s looking for.
He pushes the memory aside and reaches deeper.
There’s a single memory. No vision, no scent, no smell or touch, just a sound that sends a chill straight down his spine.
Mechanical, strained breathing, with thundering footsteps.
Even as the sound makes him feel displaced from his own body, Luke reaches for the memory, to grab a hold and look deeper. Only he’s met with strong resistance, shoved back, and Kuiil’s mind pulls away from his. Luke swallows hard and falls back, shaking.
Kuiil lets out a sob, trembling, and is climbing into the Mandalorian’s lap. The Mandalorian gathers him up and holds him close.
Luke closes his eyes again and takes a deep breath, willing the panic inside himself to go away. The Mandalorian murmurs to Kuiil in Mando’a, until the tears stop and the child only burrows against his cuirass.
“That’s enough for now,” he says. He doesn’t sound angry.
Luke nods, trying to control his shaking.. “That was… better. Better progress.”
“Hope it’s worth it,” he says, and while it’s not particularly venomous, Luke feels the sting.
Once Kuiil has begun to calm, Din takes him up to the bar to get some food. Maz is quick to get it to them. Then they venture out into the cool air, trekking away from the castle towards the Razor Crest’s usual parking spot.
They sit on the edge of the ramp. Din slips off his helmet and unwraps the food, handing a portion to Kuiil. Kuiil sniffles and takes it, beginning to gnaw on the meat, and Din watches him for a moment.
“Are you okay?” he murmurs.
Kuiil sniffs again. “Yeah. Yes.”
“Does it hurt you or does it scare you?”
Kuiil seems to stare at the food before answering. “Scary,” he whispers.
Kuiil’s presence brushes against his mind. Din lets him in. They brush together, warm and soft, exactly as it should be. Kuiil turns away and leans back against his leg, beginning to really eat.
The forest is quiet around them, branches swaying in the breeze, and both eat in silence. The last of his meal gone, Din leans back on his hands, looking out towards the clearing. Soon, Kuiil finishes too and climbs up into his lap, lying back against him. They just sit in comfortable quiet, until Kuiil finally speaks.
“You’re going to leave,” he says, his voice soft and sad.
Din looks down at him. “It won’t be long.”
“But you might get hurt.” Kuiil looks up at him. “What if you get hurt?”
“I’m not going to get hurt,” Din says. “Everything will be okay.”
“Don’t lie,” Kuiil says. “You’re not supposed to lie.”
Din frowns at him. He straightens up and wraps both arms around Kuiil. “I’m not lying,” he says. “Not to you. Everything will be okay. We’re going to kill Gideon. Destroy what’s left of his remnant. Then, no one will ever be able to come after you again.”
Kuiil looks up and back at him, then sighs and slumps, his ears drooping. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he whispers. “Or Ari. Or ba’vodu. Or Luke. No one.”
“It’s something we have to do,” Din says. He strokes an ear, gently scratching. “To keep you safe.”
Kuiil frowns. “It’s… because of me.”
“Not just you.” Din pauses. “Gideon… he took everything. He destroyed our world. He slaughtered as many Mandalorians as he could. The ones who survived got lucky. And he took a sacred relic.” He feels his chest tighten. “He can’t have the Darksaber any longer.”
Kuiil frowns. “Why is it important?”
“It’s the symbol of our leader. Our Mand’alor.”
The boy looks up. “Mand… sole ruler.”
Din nods. “Sole ruler. It’s part of our Creed to answer the call of the Mand’alor. To follow them.”
“But there’s no Mand’alor. Just… alor.”
“Just our alor,” Din says. “Our matriarch. We haven’t had a Mand’alor since the Great Purge. And the Darksaber is a symbol of Mandalorian power. Gideon can’t wield it. So we have to take it back. Have a new Mand’alor. Reunite the Mandalorians that remain.”
Kuiil stares at his hands, then mumbles. “Re… unite?”
“Bring back together.” Din lets out a breath. “Together again. Like we once were.”
“Like Mandalore?”
“Right. Like Mandalore.”
Kuiil frowns, then looks up at Din. “What if it doesn’t work?” he asks.
“It will work,” Din says. “Without a doubt.”
Kuiil lets out a breath and just turns, throwing his arms around Din in the tightest hug he can muster. His arms don’t reach far, but it’s there all the same.
“Hey.” Din squeezes him. He rubs his back. “I’m going to come back. I promise you. Gideon doesn’t have a chance against us.”
Kuiil stares up at him, then just hides his face.
They sit in silence for several minutes, just close, until Din finally stands with him in his arms and lets the boy slump against his shoulder. He grabs his helmet and walks further into the ship, into the cool shade.
“Do you want to go back to Luke?”
Kuiil shakes his head. “Tired,” he mumbles.
Din adjusts him, then turns and walks to the cockpit, climbing up with the kid in one arm. He steps into the cockpit and settles down into the chair, looking out at the forest, and they just sit.
Then, there’s a rumble, and both look up through the shielding as another ship approaches from the sky. It hovers above the space, then lowers and lands beside the Crest, settling down. It’s smaller than the Crest, but its doors open and several Mandalorians step out. Amongst them are Paz and the Teros; Kuiil stands up tall with a squeak. “Ri!”
Din just gets up, scooping the kid into his arms again, and leaves the cockpit.
They climb down the ladder and walk through the cargo hold, stepping down the ramp and into the sunlight. Kuiil squirms and jumps onto Din’s pauldron, taking his spot there, as the Mandalorians come into view. They face each other.
Kuiil doesn’t hesitate, leaping from Din’s shoulder to Paz, managing to grab on to the wider pauldron there. Paz’s hands immediately come to catch him, but he hangs on just fine, and waves at Ari. Ari waves back.
“You’re early,” Din says. “Alor said you were coming in the next few days.”
“Intel came back earlier than we thought,” Paz says. “Karga’s coordinates are right. It’s a small town on Harova-II that they’ve buried in.”
“Townsfolk there are practically enslaved,” Griphin says. “Gideon’s low on troopers. They’re making the residents help with building whatever they need.”
“If you’re here, I presume there’s a plan put together.”
Paz nods. “We can tell both you and the jedi at the same time. If he’s here?”
“He is,” Din says. “In the castle.”
Kuiil has jumped onto Ari’s shoulder, and seems unconcerned about returning to Din. He turns, and with the Mandalorians at his back, begins the walk back towards Maz’s castle.
Paz is quick to come to his side. “The kid’s been fine with him?”
Din looks at him. “So far,” he says. “It’s strange. I don’t trust him and I don’t know what they’re doing. But it’s been… okay.”
Paz nods. “Good.”
The return walk to the castle isn’t far, the path well traveled by their own past trips, and Din leads them to the side door where they typically enter. Din opens the door, then steps into the cool darkness. The wall sconces light the way as they walk inside, heading down the hall towards the training room.
It’s only two turns until they return to the room, stepping through the doorway.
Luke is sitting on the bench but stands as he sees the Mandalorians walk in, all crowding into the room. They don’t waste time with greetings. Paz walks to the table in the center and places down a holographic disc, pressing a button for the saved hologram to pop up.
It’s the model of a town, with red lines running through the streets. Small, blinking red strobes are positioned in and around the town. A certain building blinks red.
“The base is on Harova-II,” Paz says. “We were able to put together this map from scouts. The red dots are stormtrooper positions, and they rotate every two hours. The building is where we believe Gideon’s headquarters to be.”
“How many troopers?” Din asks.
“Our estimate is around 50.” Paz looks at Din. “Make sure Dune knows 50 when you invite her.”
Din smiles.
Beside him, Luke lets out a breath, arms crossed as he stares at the map. “Thought this was over,” he mutters. “We won.”
The Mandalorians glance towards him. “It’s never been over,” Griphin says. “The Empire’s still around. The damn bureaucrats of the New Republic just never cared enough to stop arguing and look.”
Luke looks at him, then back to the map without a word. Din watches him. He’s still white as a sheet, an unfocused look to him, with an occasional look towards Kuiil. He then clears his throat and reaches out, turning the map.
“I can bring a few of my students,” he says. “Some are capable of taking on something like this. They all have their own hate for the Empire.”
“Good,” Paz says, though he and Din share a look. He steps up to the map again. “Our plan is to take slip in through their defences as quietly as we can. Take out their guards and patrols with as much stealth as possible, cut down their numbers while we have the advantage. The alarm will be raised at some point. Better that we take out as many as we can before they rush us all at once.”
“How can you be sure that Gideon is actually there?” Luke asks.
“He pilots a tie fighter,” Din says, looking at Paz. “But we blew it out of the sky.”
“He’s got another,” Griphin says, amusement in his voice. “Bastard has his preference. I’ve seen the thing and him myself, and it’s still there. So he is, too.”
Luke stares at the map again.
Griphin steps up and gestures to the center of the town, where the red building flashes. “We presume this is Gideon’s headquarters. Things could change like they always do. It might be a different building. But if everything goes to plan, we’ll be able to check any damn building as we please until we find him.”
“If,” Din mutters. “We act like everything is going to go wrong.”
Paz nods. “Prepared for anything,” he says. “For getting seen before we can even start. For having to fight our way through. Losing warriors. Gideon slipping away.”
Din’s stomach turns at the thought.
He’s elbowed in the side. Ari is looking at him, her arms crossed, Kuiil perched on her shoulder. “He won’t,” she says, her voice firm. “He’ll be there. We’ll kill him. He’ll never come after Kuiil again.”
“I hope,” Din mutters. He glances at Kuiil, whose smile has faded for a more serious expression as he looks at Din, then back to the map.
“Any questions, then?” Paz asks, looking around the room. “Concerns? We’ll have to play a lot by ear.”
The Mandalorians and jedi share looks, but no one speaks.
“Good,” he says. “We plan to leave in the morning so we’ll land on Harova--II during the night cycle with time to arrive at the compound on foot. From there, it’s all us.”
Luke steps back from the map. “I’ll contact my students,” he mutters, and he walks to the door, stepping out.
He’s being flighty, Din thinks. He’s been like that.
“Din,” Paz says. “Could you--”
“Hold on,” Din mutters, and he steps to follow Luke out into the hallway.
The jedi doesn’t notice he’s followed, more focused on the communicator in his hands than Din, and Din gives him a brief tap on the arm to get his attention. Luke starts, stepping away from him with a hand going to his lightsaber before he sees Din and relaxes, sighing.
“Sorry,” he says.
Din frowns. “What’s wrong with you?”
Luke almost mirrors his own expression without seeing it. “What do you mean?”
“You’re acting strange. You were strange this morning and more now.” Din stands in front of him. “What’s going on?”
Luke stares at him, then glances down at his communicator, fiddling with it for a moment before he crosses his arms. “I’ve been having dreams,” he says. “Some… disturbing ones.”
Din is quiet. “Visions?”
“I wouldn’t say visions.” Luke looks uncomfortable. “But… worrying anyway. About you and Kuiil. About your covert, and Gideon.”
Din tenses. “What about us? Him?”
Luke pauses, then sighs. “It’s the same thing,” he says. “Over and over. The details change, but…” He pauses again, like he’s searching for the words. “I’m always a witness to it. In my own body, watching. I’m always in a dark place, and I… hear things. Screaming, crying, sounds of agony. I manage to find it, and it’s… a small being with a red lightsaber, killing the Mandalorians.”
Din swallows.
“Kuiil,” Luke says, the tension thick between them. “His eyes are yellow and red, like a sith. He kills your Mandalorians like it’s nothing. There’s a person, a man, in a cloak who tells him to continue. Then, it’s… you. You’re the last. You try to talk to him, and he… stops to listen.”
He can’t move.
“You try to get him to stop, but he doesn’t. He never does. He kills you. Takes off some necklace he wears, says something in Mando’a. Then he leaves with the person.”
Luke takes a deep breath and Din just stares at him, his stomach turning. They’re silent, just standing.
“You think it was Gideon?” Din says.
“It could have been,” Luke says. “I don’t know enough myself to be sure. But it’s… this dream hasn’t left. Combining it with the influence Kuiil has had, it’s…” He runs a hand through his hair. “I just don’t know.”
Din glances down the hall towards the room, then back to Luke. “What have you been finding in his mind?” he demands. “Or is it all useless so far?”
Luke looks up. “It hasn’t been… useless,” he says. “There are memories. But he’s so young in them that I’m getting more sights and sounds. Though…” he pauses. “There was one. He was playing with toys somewhere with people talking, but he didn’t know what it was about. And the furthest memory I could get had… well. Breathing, but… mechanical. Through a respirator.”
He’s near white as a ghost, again looking flighty. Din frowns. “Does that mean something?”
“It… explains, I guess.” Luke sucks in a breath. “Something. That breathing was… that was Darth Vader. The Emperor’s right hand. He used the Force choke on his enemies and was a force user, too.”
Din stares at him. “Did you know him?”
“... He was my father.”
“Oh.” He frowns. For a moment, he has no idea what to do with that information. “So… he could have picked that up from him.”
“He could have seen it,” Luke says, nodding. “He could have seen a number of things if he was in the Empire’s custody.”
Din frowns then, crossing his arms. “The Client who put the bounty on him wanted him dead or alive,” he says. “They were experimenting on him, or--I don’t know. It seemed like they wanted his DNA. If they had him before, why wouldn’t they have gotten it?”
“Thought they had more time? I don’t know.” Luke shakes his head. “The Empire was meant to stand for thousands of years. They would’ve been able to experiment things and still care for the child. Gideon and the Client might now have thought that they didn’t have the same kind of time. Better to just get a sample and get it done fast.”
Din lets out a breath. “There’s still so many questions.”
Luke looks at him. “Questions that only Kuiil can answer,” he says. “Unless you want to take Gideon as a prisoner and get what you can out of him.”
Din stares back. “No,” he says. “He dies.”
With that, he turns and walks back to the room, a deep unease in his stomach.