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As quickly as the world became nothing, he became everything. The Living Force. Where the vastness of the galaxy no longer felt imposing, but right. Knowing. The chaos that had taken him from the living, was now eternal peace.
And in that peace, he was surrounded by light.
An energy so welcoming and familiar embraced him in this new world. One that thrummed inside him for as long as he could remember. The very thing that brought him to the Jedi in the first place. The Force. A beautiful and ubiquitous thing that felt all too cruel and forgiving. There was no anger here, no residual heat of battle. Only destiny and the fate that was meant for him.
Yord gasped. The light vanishing from around him into darkness.
He scrambled against the dusted ground of Khofar, coughing as clouds of red invaded his lungs, but he was breathing. Impossible. The peace of the living Force was distant now. Still inside him but he wasn’t one with it. He twisted his neck to the side, slowly, as an experiment. Was the Force offering him one final trail? That must have been it. The Force wanted him relive his final moments, to prioritize saving Osha. To get her off this planet before that… thing… could get his hands on her. He disobeyed a Master Jedi, he deserved his fate.
Yord looked around, waiting for a vision of his childhood friend to come to him. He rehearsed in his head what he would say to her this time around when she insisted they turn back, then something in the brush shuffled. Yord got to his feet, surveying the ground for his saber before his eyes landed on Jecki. Fallen.
She was just a child. A Padawan. Years away from knighthood.
He hoped the Force welcomed her without challenge, like the one he was about to face.
Suddenly, she twitched, like something very much alive. The holes in the back of her tabard were still present, but her arms moved to her sides as if her body was healed. She coughed out a dusty red plume as she pushed herself off the ground, her curious eyes meeting his. And he knew this was not a vision of Sol’s padawan, but truly her force signature.
“Where are we?” She squeaked out, like she expected not to be able to speak.
“I… don’t know.” Yord managed. The final moments of his life played over and over again. That demon, with his arms around his neck. The snap. The nothingness. Yord did not survive. This was some other world, but all the same it felt solid and whole.
“Are we…?” Jecki stood, touching the charred marks on her robes.
“I don’t know.” Yord replied, this time slightly sharper. “We should move. See what the Force wants with us. See why it is holding us in this world between worlds.”
“It feels real.” The Padawan said, carefully, more to herself than to him.
The planet was exactly as he remembered, the woods thick and covered in a blanket of fog. Daring all those who walked into it’s depths to never return. Perhaps that was the woods warning. Master Kelnaccca’s hut wasn’t far. If there was a chance they were going to find answers, it would be there, in Kelnacca's things.
“Do you think Master Sol is safe?” Jecki said from behind him. “I don’t sense him.”
“Maybe he survived.”
Which means… maybe Osha…
Maybe it hadn’t all been for nothing. Something told Yord to believe in her. That she was far more important than either of them would have believed. He hoped it was for the better. He began walking faster, like he was being carried forward to something he couldn’t quite place. The closer her got, the more familiar it felt. When Kelnacca’s hut came into view, creaks echoed from within. Yord subconsciously pulled Jecki behind him.
“When I tell you, run,” he whispered to her. Taking one more step closer, wishing he had his weapon.
The empty doorway filled with a dark shadow. One too large to be human or that demon with the red saber. The figure stepped into view, and roared.
Master Kelnacca.
Alive. Healed.
No. Yord reminded himself. Not alive. With them, stuck in this inbetween.
The Wookie roared again, victoriously, raising his large hairy arms into the air. The fatal cut across his chest healed. Then one by one, as if answering Kelnacca's calls, from the depths of the woods the fallen Masters that had joined this mission emerged. All with no signs of the wounds that ended their lives, besides the marks on their clothes.
Yord did not specialize in Shyriiwook like the other Jedi. He chose more obscure languages to study, he raised a confused eye to Jecki who was looking around Kelnacca’s hut with fascination.
“Those markings.” She said, pointing out the painted swirls that covered the Wookiee’s home. “Those are witch runes. Master Sol was interested them as well.” She traced the holes in her clothing one last time. “I think we’re alive, Yord. Truly.”
Then it made terrifying sense.
“Witchcraft.”