Work Text:
“Caleb? Caleb?” Essek gathers the jedi’s slumped face in his shaking hands, “Caleb… Caleb please, can you hear me?”
There is no response, only the sound of the cave walls crumbling around them and Essek feels like he couldn’t move even if he tried. Caleb’s chest looks so still.
Too late, the voice inside his head chides, you were too late.
—
The first memory Essek has of Caleb Widogast is one of a deep seated loathing somewhere inside him that compels him to rush across the burning battlefield and choose the jedi as his opponent. Essek doesn’t care for battles, doesn’t believe in the cause and is much more comfortable with carrying out his objective from the shadows. But this is a scale model of war and here, it doesn’t matter which one of them preferred what. If he gave the Sith their win, they would give him the resources to find his relics. Simple as that.
Perhaps there was something about the way the Jedi cut through three Sith acolytes is one swift move. Essek wouldn’t miss them; but he remembers looking back at that moment when his eyes met Caleb’s across the divide and something passed between them. He can’t remember which one of them lunged first— him or Caleb. There is only the memory of death and destruction around them as their lightsabers met in a furious clash, angry and swishing and righteous — the jedi moved with so much righteousness it made Essek almost uncomfortable. He twisted with feline agility and brought on a flurry of attacks that Caleb barely evaded, making some of his own in turn. A few close shaves where they almost singed each other, almost killed each other— almost.
Amber lightsaber met Essek’s purple saberstaff measure for measure, never backing away, never faltering as the wind in their robes encased them in their whirlwind duel— Essek has never been much for fighting but he is enjoying this. He twirls out of Caleb’s range, leaps off a dying Republic soldier and brings his saberstaff down on Caleb with his full might. It’s only then the jedi falters, pushed back a good few feet, the air humming with pure energy and perhaps something more as well, for their faces are inches apart from their weapons, inches apart from each other.
Maybe it was the intensity in Caleb’s eyes, so close to his own, that made Essek stumble, maybe it was… something else — but the jedi pushed back with a guttural growl, an exceptional might that was more than just base strength and Essek felt the Force push back at him.
From the corner of his eye, Essek could see another sith acolyte approaching from behind— no, this is my fight. Perhaps for the first time Essek has met his match, he would not have some measly apprentice intervene.
Even as fast and agile as the jedi is, Essek is faster. And before the sith acolyte could land a killing blow, Essek had force-slammed him against a distant rock, knocking him out. The wildfire that burned around them grew and blazed, burning a path between where they stood, flames licking up into the sky, as red as the Jedi’s hair, as simmering as the jedi’s resolve.
“This is not over.” are the first words Caleb Widogast ever says to him, calm and collected even if their duel was a stalemate. Essek doesn’t reply, doesn’t say a word. He holds the jedi’s gaze in an unspoken promise.
We will meet again.
It is only later, when he is in his quarters, meditating after a long day of recuperating and research that he allows himself to think about that duel, one that challenged every fibre of his being and excited his soul in a way that has been so far foreign to him. It is only then that Essek allows himself to wonder if hatred was even the right word for what he had felt then, for all he feels now is some deep seated admiration towards the man who almost defeated him.
He does not know Caleb’s name yet. But he awaits their next encounter with bated breath.
—
It is nearly eight months and two more gruelling duels later that their fight reaches a conclusion. The planet of Uthodurn is rocky and cold and the lightsaber in his hands is the only source of warmth. They stand on the cliff’s edge, an icy death beneath. He is hooded, but Caleb knows it’s him, can feel it so strongly that it might as well have been a physical touch. The sith drops the hood and meets Caleb with a level gaze, his saberstaff coming alive with a familiar glow.
Caleb watches Essek, all grace and poise and precision, a shadowcat waiting to pounce; and Essek watches him the same, their lightsabers humming with bottled tension. They circle each other as if both are predator, both are prey.
The sith flexes his shadowstaff, it’s purple heat singes the snowstorm around him and Caleb knows it’s a bad idea to fight in this weather— but theirs is a duel unfinished, a melody only half-sung. Caleb closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and centers himself. When he opens his eyes, the sith is staring at him with a peculiar expression, perking an eyebrow as if to ask, shall we start? and Caleb meets his gaze unfettered, spinning his lightsaber as an invitation. He can see that glint in the sith’s eyes, a hunger for fight and Caleb feels it mirrored in the darker parts of himself. He lunges at the same moment the sith does, their sabers humming and singing as the attacks come, one after the another— and yet, none of them land. It’s a fight of equals, perhaps— a dangerous impasse, for even after swinging and dodging and bringing down as ruthless swings as the sith does on him, Caleb realizes that they could perhaps be here a long time, stuck in this forever duel for neither of them are better than the other, neither of them are worse— they are evenly matched. Where Essek moves with a swiftness that is second nature to an assassin, Caleb persists with a boldness that is second nature to a sentinel.
There is something distracting in the sith’s eyes, the heat of every attack that Caleb feels in every bone of his body and reciprocates in same, their sabers fizzing under onslaught and Caleb pushes back with the Force but Essek plants his feet firm and braces against it. Something flies out of his robes during this and Caleb isn’t sure what, has no time to wonder as the Sith’s attacks increase in speed and his dual blades are a whirr of reckoning that Caleb barely avoids, barely beats back with his own. It is only when he can back away no more that Caleb realizes he’s been cornered— and when his foot slips against the edge of the cliff into what Caleb is convinced would be certain death, that the hand that reaches out to grasp Caleb’s is as unexpected as sunlight in Roshona.
The dying red in Essek’s gaze captivates Caleb who cannot look away— almost expecting the sith to let go any moment now because what reason could he have to save a jedi that he has defeated in combat? Essek’s grasp tightens, his skin cooler than Caleb would have expected— and it is a touch all the same that makes Caleb’s heart leap in his throat.
“Hold on” are the first words Essek Thelyss ever says to him, in a strongly accented voice that is characteristic to the Xhorhassian system. The sith plants his blade in the ground to anchor them and Caleb can feel Essek’s arms tremble under his weight as he grunts, trying to pull the jedi up.
The rocks are slippery with snow and success is hard-won. When Caleb is pulled into safety, Essek lets go immediately, pulling himself away from the Jedi and rushing to collect what had slipped out of his robes earlier. Caleb can see it now— a scroll-case planted upright where it fell into the snow and if he squints, Caleb can almost make out the symbol of a dodecahedron against the side. The sith snatches it up in a swift movement, resolutely avoiding looking at the jedi he has just saved and Caleb feels something inside him ache deeply.
He could see the confusion in Essek’s eyes when the other man had reached out to save him— the surprise at his own action. And yet... he didn’t let go. He pulled the jedi up even if he is determined to not so much as even look at Caleb now.
Caleb blinks. And just like that, Essek is gone.
What did he have to gain from saving me? He could’ve just let me die. Caleb sits there, perplexed— the snow soaking into his robes as his lightsaber rests a few ways away, humming gently. Is this a favour? (his mind has a thousand questions) If so then… When will he collect his due? His skin still tingles from where the sith touched him and Caleb flexes the hand absent-mindedly, still staring at the crevasse in the rocks where Essek disappeared with his scroll.
Something warm stutters in his chest that Caleb does not know what to do with.
—
It is a relentless mission of the jedi, to fight every Sith to the last breath and restore peace and order— but in every encounter he has with a Sith, Caleb finds himself hoping that it won't be Essek— for they are fated to kill each other, he knows now. And Caleb isn’t sure he can do that. He owes the drow a debt of life and maybe even that is only part of the reason why.
Even so, he finds himself almost wishing it would be Essek, for crossing blades with him is the most he’s felt alive — while other Siths he encounters are challenging, they don’t hold the weight that Essek does. Caleb has to repeatedly remind himself that his duels with Essek were not by the rules of what to expect from a Sith but an exception to it.
Which begs the question: what else could Essek be an exception of?
It is during sleepless nights, as he sits awake with a book in hand to distract himself from his nightmares that he allows himself to wonder. He stares at the scars in his own forearms, marks acquired under the Sith master he broke away from and wonders if it would have been different for him if someone had lent him a helping hand, some way out...
Would he have taken it?
He couldn’t say— couldn’t be sure if he wouldn’t still believe in the glory of the Sith Empire if his parents' death didn’t break him. And he sees the same frenzy in Essek’s eyes, a similar resolve that he used to have too, that the ends shall justify the means — but he had seen kindness there too. Caleb knows if he had been in Essek’s place, he would have let a Jedi die and lost no sleep over it.
—but Essek has lent a helping hand to him already. Wouldn’t it be right for Caleb to do the same? To offer Essek the way out that he wishes someone had done for him?
It is during nights like this that Caleb finds it difficult to distinguish between Sith and Jedi, between the extremes of good and evil. Not for the first time, he finds himself doubting the sacrifices that the Jedi Order deem necessary, finds himself doubting the emotional distance that the Jedi practice. It would be safe for him to not want to help Essek, prudent to not get personally invested. That’s the jedi way. But his heart stutters in his chest and Caleb has already made up his mind.
If the Jedi Council find out, they would remove him and Caleb does not know where he would go— he has nowhere else to go. Caleb is not a Sith… and if he is not a Jedi either then what is he?
He shakes those thoughts away and focuses instead on the task at hand. Essek. So what is it anyway that Essek is after? He didn’t kill or maim the people in his way, or terrorize the Archive he stole away from. This was perhaps not a Sith attack afterall; it felt more personal than that— for he simply stole… a scroll.
Hmm… a scroll.
Over the next few weeks, when he is not on a mission, Caleb finds himself hunched over every book he can get from the Cobalt Soul Library in every corner of Coruscant, hellbent on finding out exactly what that symbol of dodecahedron means.
And why Essek seems more invested in it than he does in the war.
—
The lost planet of Vasselheim is quiet, abandoned. The dust of eons unsettles around his boots as Essek steps out of his ship. Statues of gods and deities rise to ungodly heights, watching him desecrate their forgotten kingdom, filling Essek with the sense that perhaps he is the only person breathing on this planet. He walks on. The Archive doors are rusted and Essek forces them open with a casual swipe of his wrist. Even as he moves as silently as he dares, his footsteps echo in the huge ruined halls of the first ever Cobalt Soul Reserve. In the Inner Rims of the galaxy, there is a war raging but Essek is far away from all of that. Far removed.
If there’s anywhere he can find more about the ancient knowledge of the dodecahedrons… it must be here .
So pertinent is his excitement that he doesn’t hear the noise at first, doesn’t expect the footsteps that accompany the shadows so silently that it nearly fools Essek. Essek holds his breath for a second; then he spins around and his saberstaff is already alight when it clashes against an amber lightsaber. He doesn’t know who he was expecting— perhaps some Sith apprentice that Master Ludinus would send on Essek’s tail, perhaps a bounty hunter— but it certainly wasn’t Caleb Widogast.
“I thought I might find you here.” the jedi says, his face close to Essek’s as their sabers humm with the tension between them.
“You will find your doom.” Essek promises as he swerves his staff and repeats the attack. Caleb dodges it skillfully, “I almost killed you once, Jedi. I could kill you again.”
“Then why didn’t you?” Caleb asks as he defends his flank from the purple glow that almost burns through his robes.
Essek stops short. He doesn’t know why. It’s not a question he could answer the day he saved the Jedi and he certainly can’t answer it now either. He doesn’t know why he did it.
And he fears he might do it again.
“Much more fun keeping you alive, yes?” Essek retorts instead.
“There’s more to it than that.” Caleb scoffs, “and you know it.” The jedi’s movements get more fluid as their dance progresses, matching Essek blow for blow. But Essek misjudges a move as Caleb moves out of his range and Essek’s saber swipes through an already broken stone pillar instead.
Rubble rains around them and Essek pretends he does not notice when Caleb channels the Force and destroys a particularly big chunk of rock that would have crushed Essek skull where he stood.
“I’ve been where you are now,” he tells Essek, the hum of their sabers the only noise that has graced this hall in centuries, the only light that has ventured so deep into the ruins. “The Sith have blinded you to their hateful cause.”
“I have no sympathy for the Sith.” Essek growls as he doubles down on his attacks but Caleb defences are stronger, impenetrable even as Essek hunts for a chink in the jedi’s armour, “not in their cause and not in their war.”
Another chunk falls and Essek instinctively shields the jedi from it, and seamlessly resumes their fight. Caleb looks slightly taken aback, but persists still, “Then why do you fight for them?”
“Tell me master Jedi,” Essek taunts, as he pushes the cross of their blades closer to Caleb’s throat, “is it faith in the Jedi order that guides you? Do you fight for them out of indisputable loyalty or your sense of inflated righteousness? Do you all not delude yourself that what you are doing is good, is just?”
“Don’t you?” Caleb bites back as he twists his saber and pins the Sith against the wall instead. The light of their joined weapons make the sith’s face glow a soft amber that catches in his eyes, a purple around the edges that softens the jedi’s features.
“No I do not, master jedi.” Essek laugh is mirthless, “My actions are never good. They are important.”
With that he swipes his feet from under Caleb and the jedi lands on his back, prone and vulnerable and Essek looms over him, his saberstaff just inches away from burning a hole into his chest.
Caleb’s arms lie open, his lightsaber still in his hand but his fingers loose around the hilt.
“Will you kill me?” he asks, fearless in his features even as he lies open for Essek to cut through.
Essek pretends to consider, pretends that this decision isn’t one he had already made the moment their weapons clashed, pretends that Caleb hasn’t asked him questions that he can’t answer— until pretending is too confusing.
“No.” Essek’s shoulders slouch and the glow of his saberstaff dims, “will you try to stop me?”
Caleb’s gaze is steady.
“No.” he says, and his lightsaber recedes into itself. There is a moment when everything is silent, waiting. They both stare at each other, assessing.
And then the massive pillar gives way under its weight, its fall loud enough to shake the ground and wake the dead if there were any. It is only when they glance over to where the pillar has fallen that the jedi and the sith simultaneously realize it’s blocking the entrance, their only way in or out.
They are trapped here.
—
“You’re very far from home, Jedi” the sith remarks as they walk further into the archives and Caleb isn’t sure how to respond to that. Divulging that he has spent hours in the libraries of Coruscant working away at the meaning of the dodecahedron just so he could ... understand Essek better feels like admitting too much.
“So are you. The war intensifies in the Inner Planets while you are here in the outskirts digging away at the forgotten myth of the Luxon.” he paces Essek’s question with one of his own, “What could be so important about it that you choose it over the war?”
Essek tilts his head and narrows his eyes, “what do you know about the Luxon?"
"I know the Luxon is a source of unlimited power. I know it’s beacons are believed to be scattered across the galaxy and they are rumoured to hold the truth of the Force within them.” Caleb places his hand on Essek’s forearm, stopping the sith in his tracks, “But I also know that all of that is legend.”
Essek jerks his hand away, walking on, “there’s always some truth in legends, Master Jedi. Wasn’t the force once a legend? Will it not become legend again when this galaxy has perished and the last Jedi and Sith have been killed? Those who come after us will scoff at the Force as you do now at the dodecahedrons. Such is the fate of knowledge, it will always be forgotten unless we find a way to seek it.”
“I don’t believe in the Luxon,” Essek continues, and Caleb watches as Essek channels the force to push the massive vault of the archives open, “it’s a tall tale for lack of imagination. But the beacons did exist once.” He lights a torch and unfurls a scroll from his robes, “Four of them belonged to the Bright Queen in Roshona, until two were lost. Some say the Jedi hide one,” he glances at Caleb suspiciously, “and the Sith hide the other. But in my experience, both of the parties are more focused on tearing each other to shreds than learning the truth about the source of their power.”
“And what are your plans with this power that you seek?” Caleb asks tentatively, as he looks away from the treasures of the library and focuses on reading Essek’s scroll. “To found yourself a new throne?”
Essek laughs, a light sound that resonates in the darkness, echoing in the wide array of shelves around them. “I have never had much of an appetite for regimes— least of all my own. But knowledge, however…” He tucks the scroll back into his robes and admires the shelves upon shelves of books around them, “I wish to understand the force, the source of it— the meaning of it. The beacons might be my only way of doing so.”
Caleb feels something inside him tug at the mirthful curiosity in the sith’s features. He doesn’t know why but he believes him, more than anything he understands this drive for knowledge… hasn’t he been trying to do the same since he joined the Jedi? Understand the meaning of the force and why it manifests the way it does in him. Why he had to go down the dark path to finally understand the restraint of the light? Why he clings to this restraint with his bare hands, like it’s the only thing giving his wretched life purpose.
He watches as Essek walks forward into the darkness, unafraid in his quest and Caleb finds a big part of himself wishing he were the same, that his faith in the Jedi Order was as untenable as Essek’s faith in the knowledge that he seeks.
—
Caleb can’t tell how long it's been but he feels like he has learnt more about the sith in their unlikely adventure than he’s done during their duels— and the duels already told him so much about Essek’s sharpness and wit. Here, he gets to witness the same in a different light, just as mesmerizing as the other one. And even here, Caleb finds he can match Essek measure for measure, even as he learns about the dodecahedrons, their discussion of the ways of the sith and the ways of the jedi shift from the argument it started as to more honest introspections.
“The Sith and the Jedi are two sides of the same coin.” Caleb continues, “one cannot exist without the other, that’s the balance. This war is not needed but I often doubt if it will ever stop.”
“Quite so, jedi. We are supposed to care about this age-old fight of extremes, but it is not my war, at least not personally” the sith shrugs, “conquest is always so tiresome, I do not understand it.”
“But you fight for them.”
Essek’s lips turn into a tight line, “that I do.”
A breath passes and then, “Essek,” the jedi says, softly and the drow freezes. It’s the first time Caleb has referred to him by name. He turns to face Caleb and it’s perhaps the first time Caleb has seen a sliver of vulnerability in the sith’s eyes, “You do not care for the Sith or share any of their motives… Why stay?”
“because—” Essek starts but finds no good reasoning. Why must Caleb always ask him questions he cannot answer?
Because they have the resources that I need and my blade is easily bought by the promise of knowledge. I am selfish and unkind and this is my only place in the world. Because Master Ludinus is the only one who ever understood my potential and pushed me to hone it. Because if I am not a Sith... then what am I?
“Because it’s easy.” he lies. But Caleb Widogast seems to hear the truth anyway.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” he says, taking Essek’s hand in his and the kindness in his touch makes Essek almost recoil in shock, “I can help you. I… I am pleading with you to find your better self. He is in there, I know it.”
“I am not a Jedi, Caleb.” He could never be. He could never adhere to those rules and restraints of the jedi order. And he doesn’t want to either.
“Neither was I” Caleb says and it should be reassuring but it… isn’t.
“Don’t you understand?” Essek’s voice is brittle, “my only way out of this… mess is through the force, through knowledge. I am not kind or forgiving or just —I hold none of your jedi ideals. I have just me and my staff, and it is only through the force that I can be free. ”
“Let me help you,” Caleb squeezes Essek’s hands, “I was Ikithon’s acolyte— you know him, yes? I suspected you might—” he adds when Essek’s eyes widen in at Ikithon’s name. “And I was worse off. I actually believed in the glory of the sith empire and it was only when he…." even now it's difficult to recount; but Essek's steady gaze is reassuring, "...when he broke me completely that I realized the folly of my ways. That is a burden I will carry till the end of my days. You don’t have to suffer as I did. We have seen the dark side, we have both done terrible things. But you are capable of kindness too and I believe it. We can be better, Essek.”
It’s an earnest plea and Essek does not want to hurt the hope he sees in Caleb’s eyes. Doesn’t want to destroy something so fragile, even if he thinks it is but a fool's dream.
He gives their joined palms a small squeeze and then lets his own hands fall to his sides.
“Come on,” Essek holds his torch aloft, “we have to find a way out.”
—
The vaults are a maze, paths winding through ominous hallways and narrow edges and more than once they circle back to the place they started from, traps laid along the way as in coaxing them deeper instead of the out that they seek. Caleb misses a footing and almost falls to his death into the darkened caverns below when Essek grabs him by the elbow and anchors the jedi to himself.
“Why do you keep doing that?” Caleb asks.
“Doing what?”
“ Saving me.”
Essek doesn’t answer.
—
“Won’t they realize you’re missing?” Caleb asks Essek who is bent over the scrolls, books and other tomes outstretched in front of them. The more he studies with Essek, the more he feels like he understands Esssek, understands the Force in a new light. Bread and shared rations lie on the same table, shared in idle conversation.
Essek chuckles, something sad and self-inflicting in his smile and he shakes his head, “not for the reasons you’re thinking, jedi. If they knew I was…” he meets Caleb’s eyes then, a playful smile on his lips, “they would kill us both.”
“Is that why you’re still with them? Fear?”
The torch lamps flicker between them and the sith’s face looks softer in this light. Essek considers for a moment before replying. “Maybe.” and then, with a similar self-deprecatory chuckle, he adds “where else would I go?”
It feels too similar, too relatable and Caleb’s heart lurches in response, “I can help you.”
Essek stops. Raises his eyes slowly to level Caleb with a careful gaze. “And what do you have to gain from it?”
“Nothing.” Caleb says and means it. Nothing except the flimsy hope that I am not the only exception, that there is enough light for the both of us, that if I can just save somebody, anybody—
“You can’t save me, Caleb.”
Caleb doesn’t look away, doesn’t ignore that despair in Essek’s voice or the fragile look in Essek’s eyes.
Caleb sighs. “Doesn’t mean I won’t stop trying.”
—
There’s a faint beeping at the periphery of his senses that wakes Caleb from his slumber. He hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep.
“Caleb? Caleb are you close? Can you hear me—” The voice over his comms is what breaks Caleb out of his slumber. He hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep. Essek’s head is lopped against his shoulder, a soft weight against his own and if it weren’t for the comms, the moment is so serene that he would just go back to his slumber.
The comms. He didn’t think they’d work this far out. How can they work in the edges of the galaxy? No one knew he was coming here. No one except—
“Beau?” he answers in the comms, “Beau is that you?”
“Caleb? Fuck, are you in there, Caleb? You okay? Are you hurt?”
“No, I— I’m fine. Beau, where are you?”
“I tracked your ship, I came to get you, dumbass.” there’s a pause where Caleb imagines Beau admiring the ruins of the first ever Cobalt Soul Archive, before she says, “....are you in there?” he can feel her at the fringes of his mind, her energy, her connection to the Force that connects him too… and feels a soft reassurance at that.
“I’m okay. But I’m—”
“Caleb.” the tone of her voice has changed. Warning. He doesn’t respond. She continues, now in a lower voice, “There’s something dark in there with you.”
Next to him, Essek stirs awake.
—
Essek wakes with a soft grunt, rousing himself from a slumber he doesn’t remember falling into. His head is cozied comfortably against Caleb’s shoulder (when did that happen?) and his neck has a slight cramp from that uneasy position.
But he can feel the tension in the air now, the stiffness in his own limbs.
Another Jedi is here.
He fixes Caleb with an uneasy gaze, trying to predict what the jedi would do next. Would he tell his friend on the comms that he has a Sith in his hands? Will he tell them—
For some reason Caleb is shrugging out of his pale Jedi robes, leaving only a layer or two on himself that clings to his supple build.
“Here. Put these on.” he pushes them into Essek’s surprised hands.
“...What?”
“I’m going to get us a way out of here.”
Us? He almost asks then swerves into, “you expect me to believe you won’t hand me over to your friend outside? Or cut me down the second you outnumber me?”
Caleb pauses, then looks directly into Essek’s eyes.
“Yes.”
The honesty is staggering and Essek does stagger, that is. Confused, as he slowly shrugs into Caleb’s robes, a bit long at the shoulders and the arms, and he pulls the hood over his head.
“I don’t know if she came alone. Or if she has backup. But I don’t want her knowing you are here. She would—”
“Kill me?” Essek interrupts, trying to shake himself out of his thoughts. The jedi fit suits him ill but Caleb’s lingering warmth is distracting, “She could try. ”
A fond exasperation colours Caleb’s face, “She would not hesitate, actually.”
He gives Essek an once-over, examining the drow so snug in jedi robes perhaps too big for his lean frame and warmth flowers in Caleb’s chest. Now is not the time.
“I will distract her and keep her engaged.” He says instead, “She is very sharp and has excellent instincts so do not try to jump her if you want to live.”
“And why do you care if I live or die, Jedi?” Essek taunts, something vulnerable behind that mask of imperviousness.
There’s no reasoning he can offer that is more convincing than the sincere truth. Caleb shrugs his shoulders simply. “I just do.”
Essek tenses at that and something heavy settles between them, Essek’s expression indecipherable; so Caleb rushes to make amends to whatever transpired that he does not understand, at least not yet, not fully , “You saved my life multiple times. I owe you one.”
Essek’s shoulders relax at that, finding this reasoning more acceptable. “A favour for a favour.” he says, more to himself than to Caleb. The sith follows it up with a curt nod. He pulls the hood over his head, slinking into his element, into the comfort of shadows.
“Then lead the way, master Jedi.”