Archive of Our Own

Dathomir's feeble red evening vanished with the clunk and hiss of the Stinger Mantis ’ hatch sealing behind him.

Cal sneezed, fine dust billowing through his fingers.

On the couch off to one side, Merrin lay turning what looked like a small bone over and over in her hands, just the same as when he left hours before.

“So,” he said, pausing to catch his breath. She didn’t look up. “I found a few paintings on a wall nearby. BD says they’re fresh. Only a couple weeks old,” he continued, pulling his poncho over his head. He dumped it in a pile of gear by the hatch.
“Hey!” A crotchety voice rang out from over by the galley. “I’m sure you’re in a hurry, but not that big a hurry. Hang that up, kid!”

“Sorry, Greez,” Cal called over his shoulder before picking it up and folding it. “... Anyway. It doesn’t look like the Nightbrother script. I thought you might want to see it?”

“I have seen enough of this place,” she replied.
“But… you haven’t been out in a while, and I thought maybe–”

“You saw one of Malicos’ many tiresome attempts at a land ward,” she interrupted, her tone gentle, but eyes firm. “As he is dead, and had the calligraphy skills of an infant, it does nothing.”

"Are you sure?" He asked, deflating a little. “Maybe you should still look…?”

She sighed. "It is not like your Jedi, Cal Kestis," she said, her gaze falling to the floor. "There are always one or two more of you in hiding, it seems. It is not this way for me."

"Right, but..." He trailed off, the urge to reach out and comfort her turning into a knot in his throat. "I mean... I don't know how your magick works, but, maybe it's like speaking another language?"

"You are not making sense."

"Okay, your Magick and my Force. So, maybe their words, or… grammar , maybe, are different. But the ideas behind them are the same. That’s what Cordova seemed to think, anyway.” 

Merrin's dark eyes locked with his own. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

"I am listening," she said. 

"Well, I can feel it in other people. If I concentrate, I can reach out. That's how I know others are out there. Can you do the same thing?"

"You are simply trying to help. I know this,” she said, shaking her head. “But magick is not used in this way."

"Well... why not?"

"It is not the way it is done."

"If you are the last, then can't you decide how it's done?"

Merrin's eyes shifted back to the object in her hands. The conversation was over. He wanted to ask her about that thing she kept running her fingers over, or how her Binary was coming along. Maybe what her favourite food was. Anything to keep her talking. Anything to help her feel a little less alone.

"Hey, I'm sorry,” he said, rolling his aching shoulders. Running all the way back so fast left him a little sore. “Let me know if you need anything, okay? I'll be at my workbench."

Cal touched the scar running along the side of his neck as he strode the few paces into the back room. His plan to stop for a while at Dathomir and offer Merrin a few moments of normalcy had backfired, and in retrospect, he wondered what he'd been thinking – it wasn’t as though he’d leap to go back to Bracca, if given the chance. A feeling like hot plasma smouldered in his breast. Setting his lightsaber's hilt on the table, he found he just couldn't wait to get at its insides and flicked the lamp on in a hurry. He set about unscrewing the emitter. Working on every piece with his hands was both quicker and less taxing than manipulating it all with the Force. If little else, his old scrapper's life taught him the value of keeping his thoughts free. With each component he placed aside, Cal's mind wandered. His favourite place to go was – as ever these days – to Merrin's side. 

Being around her made him notice the little things. Like when she saw morning dew for the first time. Fat, silver droplets sliding down lush tufts of grass on a crisp Bogano dawn. A far cry, she'd said, from the thin layer coating her Dathomirian desert at sunrise. He couldn't help but smile when she asked, suspicious, if it was real. Even stories of Bracca's rains seemed to fascinate her. All this, and yet, the things she did know chilled him to the bone. She could make objects just appear , or combine bits of whatever to make strange things happen. The dead could even walk when she was done with them. Cal shuddered, remembering the metallic taste in his mouth when Merrin first appeared, enwreathed in green fire. Like she stepped out of a hole in the air. Still, those verdant flames were, in their way, beautiful. So were the grey lines of ink framing her face, and her immense well of personal strength – so plain in her eyes when she focused. He sighed, taking time to solder a particularly tricky wire. What could he do to make a galaxy where she didn't need such strength all the time? What wouldn’t he do? He chewed his lip. Thinking along these lines probably wasn't a good idea.

"You will show me what you mean," Merrin’s voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"Oh, huh? Sure, uh, sure." He turned around. “... Show you what?”

"We adapt , as I said before. You will show me some of your different language."

"You... want to learn how to use the Force?" He asked. Something cold settled in his stomach at the thought. "Merrin, I-"

"I do not wish to become a Jedi," she interrupted, her tone hard, the way it always was when she made a decision. "Our paths are our own. Think of it as though you are showing me just enough that I might say hello, and nothing more." She looked off to one side, as though staring straight through the ship’s hull into Dathomir's waning sun. 

"Are you sure? I can't promise it'll work."

"I am certain. When I taught Malicos magick, the arrangement was one-sided. What materials do we need to begin?"

“It, ah, doesn’t work like that. It – well, we can start right now, actually. Here, sit – sit here,” he said, rushing over to the spot on the floor where he often quieted his mind. Kicking aside a scrap of well-worn burlap, he made what he hoped was enough room. Full of grace, she lowered herself into a cross-legged pose. He did the same and cleared his throat, his heart thudding in his chest. Teaching her to focus might bring him some much-needed clarity, he reasoned, and sat up straighter. “It’s important to start small, so, we’ll have you try to make a connection with me, since you know me.”

She said nothing, studying him with eyes he couldn’t help but notice were as deep and rich a shade of brown as the Kashyyykian forest floor. Remembering how they gleamed in the dappled light of the wroshyr trees, he pictured how she might glow with wonder from the tops of those ancient trunks. He offered her a gentle smile, placed those thoughts aside, and closed his eyes.

“The Force is inside everything, and is everything, all at the same time. It’s like existence itself. It’s in the space between everything that is, and makes up everything that isn’t. It flows, like air or water.”

“This is much like magick,” she said, her voice soft and distant. “I believe I understand.”

“Good. Sit with it for a moment. Get to feel it moving around and through you.”

Attuning himself with the Force was always very physical for Cal. Different Jedi explained the feeling in different ways, but for him it always began with a strange, pleasant tingling in the centre of his forehead. Warmth fanned out across his body until it was the very air he breathed and the light he saw, even though his eyes were still closed. In his mind’s eye, the void of space stretched out before him, as simple and complex as it ever was. Feeling at one with his surroundings – with concepts, even – came easily to him in this liminal place.

A faint spot of light, shining like a star, drew his focus. It radiated warmth and familiarity.

“Good,” he said softly. “Think of me. Of all the stuff that makes me, me . Every piece.”

The star danced. “You are…” she said, from somewhere very far away, or perhaps not even at all. “You are… Many things that need not be said.”

“Focus,” he said, half as much to himself as to her. “Picture me clearly.”

“Brash. Foolhardy. Needs me to save him in fights with the elderly,” she teased.

“Well, maybe not that clearly,” he mumbled, her answering laughter making him smile. She was good at this. Her presence was more than just a light now; Merrin was a heady, almost smoky breeze rolling through his hair, her tendrils searching and sweeping all down his cheeks and chest. All at once, she was everything fresh and green. She was life itself and she was pulling him now, toward her. Into her, into a – 

He blinked. The blurry interior of the back room came into focus. He stared down into his own lap and swallowed hard. … into a caress? Well, Force connections are never literal. 

Merrin’s eyes were thankfully still closed, her posture relaxed, but her hands gripped tight to her knees.

“Uh… So, you see what I mean?” He asked.

“I do.”

“You found me! Good job.”

“You are right in front of me,” she said, her lips forming a wry smile. “This seems to be a lesson for children.”

“Well, yeah ,” he conceded, shrugging. “It takes younglings weeks to master that. But that’s not the point. It doesn’t matter how far away I am… sort of. If I was alive anywhere in this galaxy, you would know, if you reached for me like that.”

“I understand the principle.”

“It works a little better if you’re in a place that has meaning for you and whoever you’re trying to find. Can you think of anywhere like that?”

Merrin tilted her head. Again she looked past the walls and out toward what had to be dusk by now. "Yes." She pursed her lips, hesitating. "... it is not far from here."

"If this is something you want to do alone, I understand."

She looked back, all the terseness melting away, replaced by a gentle expression that still reached her eyes. "No. You will come with me."

He nodded. "It'll be dark by now."

"Afraid of the shadows, Jedi?" She stood, stretching her hand out to him. She had this way of tilting her head and cocking her hip when teasing him that never failed to send at least a little warmth to his cheeks.

"Alright, sure," he said, clasping her palm and pulling himself up. "Why wait?"

Before now, Cal never had cause to pay attention to the dusty Dathomirian wasteland during the night. Four moons lit the craggy ground brighter than he expected. What was red during the day was now a silvery lilac. Soft warbles from behind suggested BD was taking in the sights, too. Warm wind carried with it a fruity scent he didn't recognise.

"Do not lag behind," she said, breaking stride to look back over her shoulder. "The creatures will only let you be so long as you remain close."

She didn't have to tell him twice. "Where's that coming from?" He asked, gesturing upwind.

"Many things only flower at night." She seemed to be taking her time despite the warning. Many things were within Merrin's reach; maybe just like some Jedi, she too had a way of talking to the animals living here.

"You sound like you're feeling better," he said, hedging his tone.

"Not being surrounded by walls does much for me. At times, I forget this."

"Yeah. I think no matter what you're doing, taking a minute to just look at some sky for a while is important."

BD's playful chirp took him a second to translate.

"Heh, yeah, little buddy. We sure can make it an official rule," Cal replied, reaching up and patting the droid. “Five minutes a day, at least.”

"Cal Kestis, are you admitting to being a daydreamer? I believed Jedi to be relentless, even in their studies."

"We are," he said. "And… okay, maybe I daydream sometimes. But I think you can only get so far with books. You have to remember what's right in front of you, too."

"Indeed?" Merrin's shoulder brushed his, a signal for him to stop. 

A sprawling valley filled his vision, with Dathomir's moons all in a line across the horizon. They were standing atop a cliff, overlooking a canyon. Even one more step, and they'd both be swallowed by it. He backed off from the edge. She faced him, her skin gleaming silver and robes fluttering red in the full light of the moons. His breath caught in his throat.

"How did we get here ?" He breathed at last. The way they'd come looked nothing like where they'd just been.

She looked down at his hands, interlacing her fingers with his own. "This is only the doorway. Now. Do you trust me?"

"Yeah. Of course," he managed, willing his churning stomach to be still. Something about this place made his head spin.

"Then you will also learn words in a different language," she said. "You will join me in a place most sacred to my sisters. To do this, you will surrender your will to mine without question or restraint."

Something deep inside Cal recoiled. Though he stayed rooted to the spot, it was as if a cold, panicking fish wriggled around in his guts. Give up his will? For how long? In what way? He found no trace of malice in her voice, no hint of malicious intent in her eyes. She must have seen his hesitation, as her smile was small and bittersweet.

"Ours is a place marked by our bond eternal. To reach it with me, you will want only what I want, and go only where I will you to go."

Merrin wouldn't hurt him. Cal knew this as surely as he knew the sun would rise again. But this was wrong. He took a deep breath. Opened his mouth to tell her he couldn't, that what she asked was too sacred, went too far - but the sweet, fragrant breeze rose up from the valley below, tousled his hair, flowed all around him - and no sound came out. He froze, remembering how gentle and trusting she had already been in learning to form a Force connection with him. She'd have had no way to know how any of that worked, except to just trust him. Cal squeezed her hands. Here, her strength was on display, yet again. After all he had asked of her, how dare he even think of not offering her the same?

He steeled himself. "Okay. How does this work?"

"First, open your hand," she said, disentangling their fingers. She reached into a pocket and pressed the small bone she had been toying with earlier into his palm.

The shard was a polished, oblong block. A glyph of some kind was etched into one side, and the other had a smooth, concave dip in the middle. His thumb gravitated towards it; it was satisfying to the touch.

His palm itched. When an object wanted to speak, it was always better not to resist. Cal opened himself to it, senses and emotions not his own flowing into form.

"Merrin, a gift," said Ilyana, beaming. "It comes from my old seeing set."

The symbols for 'future,' and 'trust' were artfully surrounded by the one for 'converge.' 

"This sigil. Mmm, I do not recognise it. Did Mother forge it for you?"

"No," Ilyana answered, laughing as she shook her hood onto her shoulders. Her hands slid up Merrin's arms, pulling her close. Their foreheads touched. "I forged it. For you."

Colour returned to Cal's vision, and with it, his eyes were his own again. The thing was much smoother now than it had been in Merrin's memory. It was well-loved.

Her brows came together. "What is it you are smiling at?"

"Nothing, it's… something nice came to me, is all."

If there was only one thing Cal wanted for her, it was for her heart to sing like that again. He tried keeping that taste of tenderness alive, letting it fill every space within himself the way it had in her. In a flash, his imagination stole away with her; somewhere on the Mantis' lower deck, maybe. Pressed up close, nose-to-nose, just listening to her breathe. Heat rushed to his cheeks. The right to think like that did not belong to him. He should never have seen that private moment of hers, really, and definitely shouldn't be thinking about things inspired by it.

"Um, so what is this thing?"

One of her brows lifted. “A wish sigil, carved as a sign of a bond between Nightsisters. It would take some time to explain.”

“You don’t have to,” he said. “She must’ve been really special to you.”

"Indeed." Merrin looked out over the canyon. A certain tension filled the air. "Listen well. It will happen quickly. You will trust me," she said, nodding with importance, the corner of her lip pulling into a frown. 

The sigil bone almost burned in his hand; it must have more to say. "Merrin, here. Take it. Keep it with you, it's important."

Turning her face to the moons, she squinted, as if peering through mist, looking for something. His mouth tasted wrong. Bitter, tangy, and metallic.

"No. You must be holding it. For this ." 

She struck. He didn't even have time to twitch. Her nails dug into the soft skin of his inner arm. Something viscous, black and green bubbled out of nothing, becoming the air. BD's startled whistle rang in his ears. It was all around them. "Surrender," she reminded him.

He screwed his eyes shut, willing himself to be calm. The stuff was glomming onto him now, devouring him. His chest burned with the urge to scream, his limbs electric with the need to thrash. But Cal pushed his body's instincts away, like they were someone else's ideas. Instead, he let everything slacken. He reached out for Merrin with the Force. Whatever she wanted to happen was right . Wherever she wanted him to go, he would . 

Whispers floated by. Hundreds and hundreds of whispering voices. He caught only snippets of unfamiliar words. Some haughty, some filled with rage. Still others were gentle, even approving, as he tried opening his eyes. Nothing but green, until suddenly, it was all black.

"Unh!"

Cal hit the ground on his chest, dirt invading his mouth. He spat it out with a groan, pulled himself up off the ground onto his knees, and pressed a hand to his throbbing head. It was dark, but somewhere far off, there was something glowing green. He'd have to wait for his eyes to adjust.

"Ugh…  BD?" He mumbled. The grind and whine of servos answered as the little droid stood up, blasting several sharp notes. He sighed with relief. "You… rebooted? Where's Merrin?"

Footsteps rushed toward him. He recognised her silhouette, even in the gloom. "You!" She cried with relief, grabbing his shoulders.

"Um… Me?" He asked.

"When you did not arrive with me, I thought perhaps… the Old Mothers had not accepted you," she said. Merrin shook her head. Her eyes were red-rimmed. She'd been worried, he realised. Cal got the sneaking suspicion he’d been gone for some time longer than he thought.

"Hey, I'm okay," he said through a soft smile. "I even still have this." The sigil bone sat in the palm of his hand. It itched.

Merrin’s sudden hug sent him a little off-balance. “Yes.” She kept her face angled away. “Yes. You did well.”

Her robes held that fruity scent she'd said earlier were from night flowers.

BD’s excited whooping drew his focus.

Green lakes cast an eerie light that danced over what looked like colossal, craggy pillars.

“Basalt, maybe?” he wondered aloud. BD just bobbled; they would have to get closer to know for sure.

Merrin looked at him, tilting her head in an endearing way. “Bay salt? I do not know this word in your tongue.”

“It’s a kind of rock.”

Either way, the columns disappeared into the gloom far above. Streams of thick emerald goo flowed down from the shadows, filling the pools all around them. It was hard to make anything out, but a few of the blocky shapes surrounding the bases of the pillars looked like buildings.

"Where are we?"

“This is the heart of our coven,” she said. Walking with purpose, she headed for one of the distant structures. Even as he jogged to catch up, the ground ate the sound of his footfalls to near nothing. The air itself was somehow listening. Waiting , maybe. Deep, body-sized drag marks lay in the soil. 

Merrin paused, gesturing towards them. “This place was my cradle, but it is my sisters’ grave.” She sounded… distant . Merrin often spoke with something of a monotone, but here, her voice was even flatter. A lump formed in his throat. Cal figured it was his job to listen, not to talk, and followed on.

A series of soft, questioning whistles from BD made Merrin turn her head. Her eyes flicked from the droid up to his.

“Um, he’s asking how long it’s been since you were last… down here,” he translated. “You don’t… have to answer, though. He’s just curious,” he hastened to add.

“ Cal Kestis , I am unafraid of truths.” She whirled on him, her sharp tone catching him off guard. “You will not protect me from them!”

“No, that’s— That’s what he said , I just wanted you to know—”

She sighed. “You hoped I would choose not to answer. You believe that answering would cause me pain.”

“Well…! But… it would, wouldn’t it?” He asked, his voice smaller than he intended.

Merrin opened her mouth to reply, but stopped mid-breath. Her hard gaze softened, and she placed an apologetic hand on his shoulder. “Cal Kestis, look around you ,” she said, her voice just as small. “I do not hide from darkness as you have learned to do.” She nodded towards their destination, over at empty homes with hearths long cold. “When could I have? There was nowhere to hide from it. I learned instead that it is better to know . That way, it can do no harm. Now… come.”

Something tapped his boot. BD was looking up at him, his little antennae rotating up and down. Cal stooped to give the droid an easier time climbing up onto his shoulder. Once there, he booped and trilled a few times.

“No, no, It’s okay, BD. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No one is upset with you, little droid,” said Merrin gently. “I have not returned here since I buried the last I could find. Long ago.”

BD's mournful note needed no translation.

With every step, his chest grew tighter.

“Um, hey,” he said, as she stopped at last in front of a doorway. “Merrin?”

“Yes?”

“You said you could never hide because there wasn’t anywhere.”

“Yes.”

“Well, what if there was?” He asked. "What if you could?"

Her eyes glinted, shining even in the dimness. He wanted so much to reach over and stroke her cheek, tuck those errant strands of silver behind her ear and just be that place , if she wanted him to be. It was the good thing to do. He knew it. But the right thing to do was to do nothing at all.

"I do not believe in such things, Cal Kestis," she said. "The shadow you think you see is always worse than what is there. I face this whenever I am asked. You should do the same."

Merrin disappeared inside the little house. Cal paused with one foot inside. He wasn't coming across right. Respite was not the same thing as denial. Was it? Green light blossomed from a brazier set in the wall, chasing away some of the oppressive gloom. Merrin knelt down at the far corner.

The place was strewn with broken things. Bits of pottery and grit crunched underfoot. In contrast, joyful animals, stars, and things he didn’t recognise were painted on the walls by the door, as if by a child’s hand. The closer he drew to where Merrin sat, the more sophisticated the paintings became, showing the artist’s skills improving over time. BD’s optic beam flashed blue, illuminating a few pieces of half-carved bone and a whittling knife laying off to one side. Cal tucked his hands away behind the front flap of his poncho. How she could just walk in here , of all places, was beyond him.

For some time, Merrin sat just as he did when meditating, her shoulders rising and falling with each steady breath. After a while, BD folded up and set himself to idle, the lights on the back of his head fading on and off. The green flame on the wall flickered and coughed. Its sparks clung to life, but died before hitting the floor. Cal swallowed, noticing a dull sensation at the back of his throat; his heart was racing and his body tense, as though he’d just downed a few too many mugs of caf. The Force was so strong here, the air wasn’t just listening or waiting anymore. It was speaking. It was doing .

What if there were other Nightsisters? He imagined the thrill, the relief, the peace she might have in just knowing there was water in the desert, so to speak. She’d be driven to find it, he knew. She’d have to, in just the same way as he’d had to find the Holocron. What if, by some chance, Ilyana still lived? Well, that would be good. That would be great, in fact. He called to mind a place like this little house, but full of life and art, ready and waiting for Merrin to step into. She deserved that. But…

The deep breath he took was tinged with more than just the will to focus. A feeling carved its way into him. All those tender places that visions of sharing closeness with her had touched now felt as if they had been cut.

Cal would never have chosen to come here. It was dark and steeped in secrets best left buried. But, as the strange emerald light picked out every line and curve that made her up, he decided there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

“I have done as you taught me,” she said over her shoulder at long last. Her voice, barely above a whisper, was loud in the quiet. “I have learned nothing of them.”

“It’s only been a little while. Do you want to keep trying?”

“No,” she replied, but did not get up.

He waited a moment. “Merrin?”

“Yes… Yes. I will go. We will go. Soon.”

“We don’t have to,” he said, unfolding himself and shuffling the few feet between them on his knees.

“Yes.” Her tone was hard, as if issuing a command. “We do.”

Cal hesitated, but brushed his fingers against her shoulder. “Okay. But we can wait.”

Without turning around, her hand reached up and covered his. She didn’t move at all, and didn’t let go. When her shoulder trembled under his palm, the realisation lanced through him. Merrin, so strong and independent, needed . Instinct told him to put his chest against her back and his arms around her; just be warm and still until she was ready. But if he did, he might never let go. So instead, he compromised and let her keep his hand. She never made a sound.

The way back was joyless and quiet. Getting out was much simpler than getting in; Quicker, too. When the green ichor swallowed him for a second time, it barely registered. As all the green melted out of his vision and his boots bit into the ground again, the welcome sight of the Mantis greeted him. Merrin let go of his arm, heading up the ramp without another word.

BD’s concerned chirps brought him back to the moment enough to respond. “Yeah. Definitely.”

The droid whistled long, falling notes.

“Believe me, I know. But there’s not much I can do. And, yeah… bed’s calling me, too.”

-

Cal ran his hand through his hair. Somehow, his chest was both heavy and hollow, all at once.

Everything he knew told him he wasn't supposed to think in this way. To want, to ache like he did. Thinking back to before, when all he wanted was to hold Merrin; tell her she didn't have to stand alone with it all, or worry about being abandoned ever again - how could that be wrong ?

Something uncomfortable poked his leg; his lightsaber felt a little heftier tonight, too. He unfastened it from its clip and ran his fingers down the familiar notches and grooves. What would his old Master have said? Cal sighed. This subject hadn't ever really come up in the days when he still had his Padawan's braid. Placing each thought aside was like unloading the rivets ripped out of a bulkhead. There were always going to be more, and he was tired .

A sound – something rising above the creak and thrum of the ship – made him tilt his head. After a few seconds, it became clear. Music . A few notes, hesitant at first, but gaining confidence. As he lay there, neck craned, a melody took shape.

Cal swung his feet onto the grating and stood up. He wanted to be where that song was.

Cere had her back to him, sitting on the couch at the far end of the Mantis’ common quarters, near the holo-table. She plucked the strings a few times, clearly assembling some musical idea, still yet to form. He liked watching her fingers move over the frets. Years of experience gave her grace and skill in everything she did.

"That you, Cal?" she asked without lifting her eyes. "I figured you might’ve been asleep. Am I keeping you up?"

"No, I was up already. It's nice," he said, summoning a grin. "Hey, you're going to teach me that someday, right? You did say."

"I did say." Though she was still turned away, he heard the smile in her words.

"What are you playing?" he asked, letting himself drop onto the seat across from her.

She met his eyes, continuing to pick notes softly as she spoke. "Oh, nothing in particular. I suppose lately I've just had the urge."

"Yeah? Well, it's good! You should play more," he said, nodding.

They were quiet for a moment, letting music fill the air instead. Cere looked peaceful; rare for a woman as haunted as she. But she was in her element, eyes closed and the instrument alive in her hands.

Cal cast a glance around.

"Oh, she went out a little while ago," said Cere, her voice just barely above the gentle playing.

"Yeah… Hey, can I talk to you about something?" He asked.

Cere – who wasn't usually up this late, he realised – leaned back in her seat.

He took it as permission. "When you feel like– How do– How– Ugh." He sighed, shifting around like he was sitting on a pin. How was he even supposed to phrase this ? Her fingers paused for a moment. She didn’t respond, so he filled the silence with words. “Okay… my whole life, I’ve… if I liked something too much, I gave it away. If I’d ever noticed anybody– you know– back on Bracca? I’d have got my work shift reassigned. I just want to do what I’m supposed to.”

“I see,” she said.

“Did you ever…” Cal couldn’t find a decent way to say it. He shook his head, shrugging. “Did you ever deal with this?”

“With attraction?” she clarified. “Of course. It’s rare to find a Jedi who hasn’t. It’s only natural to come across that in life.”

“Yeah. Master Tapal never got a chance to get into anything like that with me.”

Cere gave him a sympathetic nod. “It’d be a lot simpler if we could choose how to feel. But it’s not that way. At the Temple, Masters would identify and separate young Padawans who showed the signs. They’d be given a few years apart to… refocus ,” she explained. “But, that’s not quite your situation.”

“Yeah, that’s not really…yeah. Not the way it is.”

“It can be a lot of different ways, Cal,” she said. “Especially now.”

He took his glove off, passing his fingers over the soft, worn leather. That’s what would’ve happened, had things been different. He pictured another reality, one where he was being suddenly shunted off to some training retreat. One where he’d promise to write to Merrin. But, as time and distance waged their quiet war of attrition inside him, he’d find less and less time to write. Until, at last, a part of him would die. He’d just forget how he felt. It might even feel natural . According to the teachings, that would be better. It made sense, too; it was probably the kindest way to kill something like that. But the piece of his heart in question cried out for mercy. It simply did not want to die.

“So… did that ever happen to you?” he asked.”Did you get sent away?”

After a long moment, she repositioned her fingers. “You know, Cal,” she said, beginning to play again. “When I first picked this back up a little while ago, I kept on playing the old songs I knew. From before.”

“Oh?”

“I tried writing a few, too. Revisiting old things, reworking things I never finished.” She shook her head. “It wasn’t working. Any of it. It seemed like the more I relied on what I knew, the less anything I played made any sense . I almost gave up and put it back down again.”

“Huh.” He crossed his arms. “You didn’t, though.”

“No. Music was always part of my connection to the Force. I try to let it guide me. Now, when I play… I don’t know if it’s any good. I know it doesn’t always fit within the lines as they were taught to me, but I do know it feels right .”

“Feels right?” he echoed. “But… how can it feel right?” he insisted.

Cere’s smile was slow and gentle. “The things I was taught haven’t gone away, Cal. They’re always there. But I think back on how every piece of art in the Jedi Archives made me feel, and it reminds me. They were all different. Yet, they were all art.” 

He blew a long sigh out through his nose. Part of him hoped she would have told him some ancient Jedi wisdom on how to just… not . Some answer that didn’t involve exile. He probably wouldn’t have liked that solution either but it would have been easier, at least.

"What were you hoping to hear?" she asked.

Some shuffling and clinking of boots on metal grating drew both their attention. A section of the floor lifted. "Some quiet , for a start," grumbled Greez, poking his head out from under it, squinting blearily. “You’re right above my bunk , you know.” He folded his arms, one pair after the other. "Well?"

Cal opened his mouth to speak, but Greez swatted his apology away before it even began. "Eh, nevermind. Anyway, what is this? Why do you two look so serious? Did somebody die?" He looked around, ears pricking up. "Wait, where's your creepy girlfriend, kid?" His eyes widened. "She in trouble?"

"She's f– she's not my girlfriend," Cal interjected, raising his hands in protest. "And she's fine."

"Oh, I see." A grin slid across the Latero's wide face. " You're the one in trouble."

"I'm not in trouble."

He rolled his eyes. " Come on," he said, shrugging with one set of arms. "Let's hear it. What'd ya do?"

"I didn't do anything."

"Well, what'd ya say , then?" Greez frowned. "It had to really be somethin' if she's not here."

"It's not like that . Okay?" Cal insisted, the tips of his ears burning.

"Wait, it's not? Since when?" He stepped back, looking Cal up and down. "Huh. Guess I just assumed, the way you two make eyes at each other all the time."

" Greez ," sighed Cere, exasperated. "Go back to bed."

"What? What's the big deal?" He held all four hands up, but turned back to the displaced tile. He paused, pointing at Cal. "Look. You say it ain't like that, then okay. But if you want it to be like that, then I don't get why you're makin' me lose sleep over it."

"... ' Make eyes '?" asked Cal, confused.

Greez's ears drooped and his gaze flicked over to Cere. "Okay, he needs more help than I thought."

"It's not… as simple as that. Jedi forego attachments," Cal began, slumping in his seat. "We don't–"

"What? Why?" He exclaimed.

"My old Master said once... Attachments become chains. A Jedi in chains will never have their full range of motion."

"Yeah, okay, kid, no disrespect to your old Master, but this sounds like advice comin' from a long line of guys who never had a healthy relationship." His expression softened as he searched for the words.

Cal fidgeted, the fog of exhaustion descending upon him making it hard to form an argument. He wanted to argue, but his eyelids were heavy. Just sitting up was difficult. "Look, it’s… I don't want to be in a position where… where I can't do what's right because of an attachment," he mumbled. “Jedi fall because of their attachments.”

Once again, the Latero looked toward Cere, then back. "Right, but –”

“There’s thousands of years of wisdom behind it.” Cal said gently, rubbing at his temple.

Greez just shook his head. “I dunno. It’s a big galaxy out there, and it’s been around a real long time.”

“Well, it’s… hm.”

“It’s what, kid?” He pressed gently, but Cal didn’t have an answer.

Cere cleared her throat. Greez’s reflection on the table shrugged at her. 

“… Okay. You know what? You're a young guy. You are gonna figure this one out. You say you wanna do what's right?" He shrugged, descending halfway into the trapdoor, back down to his bunk. "Then do what's right… tomorrow. Go to sleep. Or don't! But I'm going to, so just be quiet , alright?"

"Yeah… Goodnight." Cal hoped he managed to sound grateful , if not cheerful. As his friend's footsteps and grumbling faded away, the weight of the day finally settled on him in full. Despite himself, he yawned. He really should get up, go off to his own little corner; But he was so sore all over and the couch had so much give. The leather was cool against his cheek. Something warm and soft arrived on his shoulders, patted down around him by careful hands. The gentle scent of spiced tea hung in the air, but if anything else happened after that, Cal didn't know about it.

-

"You are awake?"

"Mmmuh?" He groaned. The lights were all off. "Mmmno... Not awake."

"You do not sleep in this place. Have you become ill?" Fingertips swept his hair back over his forehead.

"No, 'mokay… Oh... 'at feels so good, pleeesh keep doin’at." he mumbled, face still mashed against the couch cushion. Obliging nails continued stroking gentle, tingling paths. "I know ’m dreaming… But still. Where y'been?" He added.

"I will go back. Cal Kestis, you will help me."

He peeled himself up off the cushion, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He wasn’t dreaming; This was important. "Wait, were you just–?” He muttered half to himself, smoothing his hair down. “Anyway… you need me?”

“Yes. I will return now, and I will do it correctly this time.”

“You didn’t do it right before?” he asked, shaking his head to help himself awake. “What makes you say that?”

“You will show me, again,” she said, firm, and blinked slowly. “I am leaving.”

“O-kay…” he said, squinting. BD was perched on the holo-table, still charging. “... now? Alone?”

“Cal Kestis, there are reasons behind everything I do,” she said, eyes flashing. “Yes, now. Yes, alone.”

“Well…” He trailed off, stretching the ache from his shoulders. “How about I come with you, but just to the… uh, the doorway? We can go through everything on the way, and I’ll just wait there for you. Um, I can wait there, right?”

“Yes.”

“Thought I’d check. It’s not… a regular place.”

“It is only a dream made real, much like your own,” she said, standing by the hatch. She crossed her arms, watching him tug his head through his vest and clip a few things to his belt. Cal's stomach didn't understand all this urgency and grumbled, but Merrin's posture made it clear he only had time for a longing look towards the galley.

Once more, he followed her out into the night. “A dream like my own, you said…?”

“The place in your mind. I saw it when you taught me to search for you. The doorway is much like that,” she said, shrugging. As she strode, she gazed at the night sky above. “Magick is… very outward , in nature. It has ways of making the unreal, real. At least, for a time.”

“So, when you focus, and clear your mind, that’s what you see? The canyon?”

“In the right place… I can bring it to you through magick,” she said, and smiled. “Once you are in a dream with me, many things become possible, if you only have the will.” 

She pulled a pair of palm-sized fruits from her satchel, gesturing for him to take one. Like most Dathomirian flora, they were black, thorny and vaguely menacing to look at. But, they smelled fresh and sweet. With a grateful smile, he accepted the offering. As he worked to separate the thick rind from the flesh, he joined her in looking at the stars. Popping a piece of the fruit in his mouth, he glimpsed her, giving him some sort of look that went from head to toe and back up again. It was only when she caught his own lingering eyes that she looked away. He flushed, swallowing his mouthful heavily. Cal forced himself to return to the issue at hand, puzzling over her words. He cleared his throat. This all seemed like such an easy concept for her, given how quickly she'd actually done it. 

“Why do you think you did it wrong?” he wondered aloud.

“I was distracted,” she answered flatly, discarding her peel and folding her arms. A sensation rippled through his bones; the Force illustrating her trepidation. Merrin already hadn't exactly been dawdling, but now, after their oddly-timed little breakfast she was really picking up the pace. Cal found he had to scramble to keep up.

“Did you see something down there?” he asked, squeezing himself through a narrow gap between some rocks as they went. “I felt something.”

“I was too distracted,” she repeated, from somewhere out of sight.

“Hmm. Yeah, it’s not easy to focus in that place,” he admitted. Once he finally dropped down onto flat ground, he straightened up, tapping his chin in thought. “Is there, maybe… a different place where you feel a connection to them?”

“No." She appeared just ahead of him.

“That answers that, then,” he said with something of a weak grin. “If it’s just about focus, all it takes is practice. You know everything you need to, already.”

Merrin paused. She looked as she always did; not a hair out of place, every movement as controlled and precise as a dancer. But something wasn’t sitting right with him. 

“It’s time,” she said. “You will wait for me.”

As the four moons rose up in a line, reshaping the light and shadow around them, his guts turned to ice. He didn’t want her to face it like this.

“I know you said it’s what you want, but–” he blurted. “ – I’m here. Okay? You don’t have to go–”

Merrin was engulfed in green and black.

“ – alone,” he finished.

His breath, visible for just an instant against the near black sky, disappeared. The chill of the night settled on his shoulders. She was gone.

She was gone for a long time.

Tiring of pacing, Cal lowered himself into posture, folding his legs tight against the cold. Neither the gaping wound in the landscape nor the baleful moons held any answers; so, he closed his eyes to them, and opened himself to the Force. Before long, its warmth spread throughout his body and soothed his need for shivering. However, like a jogan fruit bobbing along a river, Cal floated at the surface of his own mind, quite unable to sink. 

The sand here was silky under his hands and sparkled when he let it run through his fingers. Twisting, black thorns in the distance glinted gold and silver, framing the cliffs. They revealed subtle patterns hidden in the rock walls, and the more he looked, the more he saw. It was not stark and monochrome; not at all . This place was ethereal like her , and why wouldn’t it be? It was an innermost reflection of her, after all. A dream made real. A gift, he realised, whether she was aware of it or not.

A gift he did not intend to waste.

Where was she?

Cal recalled the way Merrin’s shoulders shook under the strain of just being in that little empty house. That’s where she was now, no doubt about that. There, all alone, with the weight of that whole place’s emptiness. Hadn’t she suffered with all that enough? He was sure she’d never have gone down there ever again, if not for –

An icy feeling crept into his guts again. If not for me .

She’d only followed on from his initial suggestion to hope. Cal stood up; he had to do something , but there was really only pacing to be done.

Something fell from his belt and bounced, sending up a puff of dust. Merrin’s sigil skittered to a stop in the sand. He knelt down and scooped it up. Turning it around in his palm this way and that, he examined the three symbols adorning its flat side.

In his heart, Cal was certain now that Ilyana was gone, and he held in his hand the last piece of art she ever made. He wished he could speak to her, let her know how much Merrin meant to him. It was something they shared, after all. As he cradled the charm, he wished he could ask Ilyana advice on how to really reach her.

Warmth pulsed through his very bones, warding off the chilly wind. Maybe, in some small way, Ilyana had answered before he'd even asked. This thing could get him back to the coven, he realised. This was some kind of key; he'd held it last time. But would using it himself do something bad? Maybe. Merrin needed him; that much was certain. He swallowed, put it up against his bare skin, and willed .

The scent of night flowers came to the air, but nothing green or gooey appeared. He frowned. What did he expect to happen? What did he even want to happen? He pictured himself appearing there by her side, not to disturb, but to cushion . Not to interfere, but to intercept . He willed again. Just like he willed for time to slow or rocks to break, he willed now for all the rules to bend. Bend like metal, be reshaped .

A flash of green, and a taste like licking a power cell. He scrambled back, startled – but the light came from off to one side. It had nothing to do with him.

Merrin stepped out into the moonlight. 

"Merrin!” he exclaimed brightly. “You're back!"

"I am," she said. She brushed her hair behind her ear and gave him a tired, yet appreciative smile before sitting down beside him. "I am grateful you waited for me."

"Of course," he grinned. "It's beautiful here. There's, um, a lot to take in.”

She touched his arm, her smile fading as she looked away. He slipped the sigil back into his pocket; whether his attempt worked or not didn’t really matter now. She was here, and so was he. Certain that the moons would have no more answers for her than they had for him, he reached over to touch her cheek, suggesting with a trace of his fingers that she meet his eyes.

"Hey," he said gently. "You do that a lot." 

"Do what?" she asked.

" You hide, too," he said quietly.

Holding her gaze didn’t last. "It is that…" she trailed, collecting her words. "I learned nothing new of them, again." She closed her eyes, her shoulders falling. "They are truly in the past, Cal Kestis. Nothing is different."

"I'm so sorry, Merrin. I hoped," he said. "I really wanted that for you. I still do."

"I know," she replied, with a smile that found a home in his throat. "It is one of the things about you that need not be said."

"I'm sorry."

" No ." Shaking her head, the warmth of her hands enclosed one of his. "Cal Kestis, why do you apologise for such a thing?"

He couldn't help but make a sound halfway between a sigh and a laugh.

Where to start? Maybe for not being strong enough to see her lose the sense of hope he’d given her? Perhaps for the ocean, pounding in his ears with every heartbeat? Or for the sheer power of that sea inside him meaning he could never get close enough?

"Yeah, I… just do," he said, leaning against her shoulder, treasuring the softness of his hand held in her lap. "I just do , Merrin."

"Well, do not." She replied. "You will know why I am here, and why I came back to try again." she said.

"Tell me. I'm listening.”

“You will know what… I saw.” Her voice wavered, a thing it never did.

“Yeah,” he replied, curling his fingers around hers in reassurance. “Hey, whatever it was you saw, whatever you need, I’m here.”

“Cal Kestis, it is that I saw only you .”

His heart skipped a beat. "Uh… what do you mean?"

"When I reached for them, there was only clouds. Mm, black mist. I was confused. I grieved, as nothing of them was shown to me. But…" As she spoke, she drew little circles on his palm with the points of her nails. Somehow it sent tingles all down his spine. He was enjoying it far too much; he really should pull himself away, but he wouldn't – not now. Merrin’s gaze passed over his face, along the scar across his nose, following on to the one down his cheek and neck. “Everything that makes you, you . Every piece," she murmured, mirroring his words. " You were all I could see. Even in that place, beside me or not. And…" the tingly circles ceased. Merrin's gaze dropped down. "You were gentle towards me."

Cal's cheeks burned. They burned so hot he was certain she could feel it even through the air.

"That's all I want to be," he replied. It was true. It was half true. Gentle, always, yes – but everything , too. Cal withdrew from her grasp. A few long silver strands of hair were hanging loose, needing to be swept back behind her ear. 

His throat tightened imagining just hiding, denying, pretending, holding all this back for years and years – maybe even forever, never knowing – and the ache of it became part of that vast sea within him. It rose up in reply, churning, roiling, blocking out all else. If he stood in its way now, it would be the end of him.

So he reached up, stroking the pieces into place, then cupped her cheek in his hand. Her brows arched in surprise. Cal drew up so close there could be no confusion about what he wanted. Even so, as she leaned into his embrace, her warm brown eyes filled with questions. Concern.

"But… you are Jedi ," she whispered, taking his face in her hands as if telling him a secret.

He closed his eyes with a smile, pressed his forehead against hers, and nodded.

Merrin's dark lips were so tender under his own. It didn't matter that he'd never kissed before, that it was clumsy; the ocean knew how to become a wave.

He broke against the shore that was her cheeks, her neck, everything he could reach… and he heard it in the music of her breath. He saw it in the way her eyes closed. He felt it ringing, deep in his bones. Her heart sang, and it felt like coming home.

It was so much better to feel right than to be right. It was time he made them one and the same.

-epilogue-

Dawn blazed across the horizon. The whole way back, Merrin looped her arm around his own whenever the terrain allowed. Almost like a dance, she parted to let him shimmy around a ledge or climb over a gap, then rejoin him a moment later. More shades of gold than Cal had ever seen before gleamed across the Stinger Mantis ’ hull. As he and Merrin walked up to the hatch, arm in arm, he let his head rest against hers a moment – feeling as much of her as he could before passing the threshold.

Inside, BD-1 and Cere sat at the far end of the counter. Mug in hand, Cere was watching Greez clanking around in a cupboard.

Greez’s ears flickered. “Oh good! Either of you seen the big pan?” he asked.

The ghost of a smile graced Cere’s features. “Good morning, you two.”

“Yes. It is that, very much,” Merrin replied warmly, unwinding herself from Cal’s arm. She headed down the corridor, and the faint sounds of the stairwell followed soon after. He smiled, watching the spot where she’d disappeared from view.

Greez coughed. He folded his arms, looking up at Cal, askance. “So, you still got all your powers and everything? Still a Jedi after all?”

“What?” Cal laughed, bemused.”Yeah, I’m still a… what are you talking about?”

“Oh, I dunno.” Greez chuckled to himself, making Cal suspect he’d missed some kind of joke. The Latero picked up some eggs. “You kids want some breakfast, or what?”

“Yeah…? That’d be pretty great, Greez.” Cal took a seat. He grinned across the table at BD, who beeped, shifting weight from one leg to the other in a little dance of greeting. “Aw hey, thanks, BD,” Cal said as the droid bumped into his hand affectionately. “I’m glad you understand.”

Cere met his gaze over the rim of her mug. She studied him with a look in her eyes he couldn’t quite place – a lot of things seemed to be turning over in those large spaces. She leaned forward on her elbows as if about to speak, but said nothing, just lifting her chin.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, breaking the silence between them, “but it feels right. I’m going with it.”

The same trace of a smile as before returned to her lips. She nodded. Cere returned to watching Greez, now cracking eggs under the close supervision of BD. 

“What do you want to do today, Cal?” she asked.

He paused, then grinned. “Learn the hallikset?”

She smiled. “Would you both like to?”

-