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And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I’m dying
Are the best I’ve ever had
I find it hard to tell ‘cause I find it hard to take
When people run in circles, it’s a very very
Mad world
-Tears for Fears, “Mad World"
*****
Cal’s comm buzzed incessantly on his way back to the Mantis. He ignored it, instead opting for the sounds of the jungle and forest around to fill his head. The fauna shrieked and scurried as he approached, the flora curling back, getting as far away as they could. As if they could sense what he was. What he had done.
He expected to feel… something. Anything. Joy, anger, sadness, horror… just something. There was nothing but an unsteady ease.
The wounds on his chest burned and stung with each breath. It was the only sense of heat coursing through his body. He pressed the heel of his hand into his breastbone, hoping it would provide some relief, but to no avail. BD warbled, asking if he was okay. Cal said nothing. He was cold, freezing even, despite the warm and balmy atmosphere around.
I can’t wait to watch you crack all over again, dog! The Ninth Sister’s voice echoed in his head, in each of his passing steps. He had left the fate of her body to the will of the forest. Perhaps she might be able to do some good in death.
Dog, Cal thought to himself. A bitter taste rose in his mouth. I’m no one’s dog. I’m no one’s pet. He did not belong to anyone. Not anymore, and never again.
He would hear crinkling, almost like footsteps. Whenever he looked around, however, he saw nothing. He kept thinking back to the small human child he had seen. It had most likely been a vision, caused by his proximity to the Origin Tree and the Shyyyo bird. Two massively powerful beings with deep connections to the Force, no doubt.
The bird refused to come near him. He had been forced to walk all the way back to the Mantis, dodging around the Imperial troops that still populated Kashyyyk. He would see it swoop over the treetops or hear its musical call echoing through the leaves. He wondered if it was following him from a distance.
Cere was pacing outside the Mantis as he approached. She caught sight of him and hurried over. “Cal!” she said breathless. “The Ninth Sister. I picked up her communication signals. I thought maybe- I wondered if- “
“It’s not a problem,” Cal said, brushing by her onto the Mantis, “not anymore.”
Cere went still. He needed no one else to tell him that she knew what had happened. Cal stepped inside the ship, and Greez lurched back at his presence. Almost as though he could sense the lingering cold of death hanging onto Cal. “Kid?” he asked as Cal moved over to the holotable. “You- uh- you alright?”
“Fine,” Cal said, pulling up the coordinates for Dathomir. “Perfectly fine.”
Greez studied him. “I take it you heard about the other Inquisitor? Which one was it, the… the Twelfth Sister?”
“Ninth.”
“Right.” Greez nodded. “The Ninth Sister… you- uh- you take care of her?”
“Is there something you want, Greez?” Cal snapped suddenly.
Greez’s mouth shut, and he shook his head. The room was bathed in red light as Cal located the coordinates for Dathomir. Greez came shuffling over. “You wanna go to Dathomir? Whatever for, for fun?”
“I wouldn’t be going there if it wasn’t important to the mission,” Cal leaned forward with his hands on the holotable rim.
“Right, right, but… “Greez shot Cal a flabbergasted look. “Dathomir? That place is terrifying.”
“You live in constant fear, Greez, always looking over your shoulder and checking under your bed and in your closet, desperately hoping the sins of your past that you refuse to face don’t catch up to you,” Cal deadpanned. Greez’s fear spiked, a cold trickle down his spine. “A little more won’t kill you.”
“What’s on Dathomir?” Cere said. She took her place on the opposite side of the holotable as Cal.
“The Astrium,” Cal explained. “I can use it to open the Vault on Bogano and retrieve the holocron.”
“So… it’s our last step?” Greez glanced between Cal and Cere. “A hell of a final stop, if you ask me.” He stepped away from the table to prepare the Mantis for takeoff.
“Dathomir is a deadly place,” Cere said once they were alone. “A breeding ground for dark side users. We need to be careful.”
“I know. I’ll fit right along.”
Cere paused and bit her lip. “Cal, I didn’t mean it that way. I was only trying to warn you.”
“About what?” Cal tilted his head. “What exactly are you trying to protect me from? From spiraling into the endless madness I find myself in?” He dropped his eyes from hers, instead choosing to focus on the spinning hologram of Dathomir. “I killed her, but I believe you already knew that.”
Cere goes quiet for a moment. “I may be cut off from the Force,” she explains, “but I know death when I feel it.” She shook her head. “I can’t act like I’m any better than you.”
“It’s not a high bar to cross.”
Cere bit her lip and hesitated. Cal watched her, waiting for her response. He expected her to snap and to push. To say that maybe he was worth something and give him false hope. He found that he rather enjoyed seeing her fruitless efforts to save whatever was left of his soul.
She did not take the bait. “When I escaped them, I did things. Horrible things, Cal. I will never be able to forget them, and I certainly won’t be able to do anything to make them right.”
“I know,” Cal said simply. “I’ve done them too.” And more.
“It all seems hopeless,” she continued. “It seems impossible, like we can’t do it. But look how far we’ve come! One last thing, and we will have the holocron. There’s still a chance we can save the others on it.”
“And what then?” Cal finally found the will to meet her eyes. “What will you do once you have them rescued? Have them live a life of fear, terrified at what the Empire will do once they find them?”
“If they find them,” Cere corrected.
“If?” Cal scoffed. “If. You are basing so many of your hopes on one little word. One little word that holds so much power. On one hand- “he lifted his flesh hand” -the perfect ending. The one where everyone gets to be happy. Where you raise your little army of Jedi and single-handedly defeat the Empire. On the other- “he raised his cybernetic” -they all end up dead. Or worse.” He dropped his hands back onto the holotable. “You are fighting a losing battle, Cere. Don’t you realize that? There is no saving them. There is nowhere for them to go. Not anymore.”
“If that is really how you feel, then what’re you still doing here?” She motioned in the direction of the ramp. “You could leave. You could go somewhere else.”
“I have nowhere else. I have no future. What is it if I waste my law few days in this realm proppig up someone else’s cause?” Cal shrugged, stepping around the holotable. “It’s all I’ve ever done. I guess it’s all I’m good for.”
“You know that isn’t true.” She hesitated again, then took a step closer, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I see who you are, Cal. I see who you could be.” And there it was. How predictable she was. “You didn’t have a choice in any of this.”
“I did,” Cal replied. “I had one — and I made the wrong decision.”
“Don’t say that.” Her voice was suddenly stern, her eyes cold. “Don’t ever say that.”
“Why not?” Cal fired back. “All I have ever done is cause harm.”
“You did what you had to do to survive. Just because you don’t see your purpose now does not mean you don’t have one,” Cere argued. “You don’t know what you will do tomorrow or the day after or next week, month, year, or many years from now. We are all here for a reason, Cal.”
“Do you keep telling yourself that because you actually believe it, or because you want to?”
“Cal- “
“You said we are all here for a reason? We’re not all here for the right one.” He pushed her hand off his shoulder and started for the back of the ship. “Oh, and one more thing.”
“What?”
“I look forward to watching you fail,” he throws out before spinning on his heel and disappearing.
“On the ship. Indoors,” Greez was saying as they landed. “I got walls. I got a Jedi. I got something far scarier than that.” He made what appeared to be a warding sign. “Yeah. I’m fine, I’m fine… “
Cal scoffed. Paranoid old bastard. He held out his arm, and BD scurried up onto his shoulders. Cere offered to escort him out, and he allowed her to. Cal had taken but one step off the ramp and onto the Dathomirian surface when he felt it.
Cold — cold unlike anything he had ever felt. The cold of the dark side had always surrounded him after his turn on Nur, but it had only ever attached itself to the air around. This whole planet radiated it. It was in the very atmosphere, the rocks beneath his feet, the creatures that scuttled around. It clung to the dead plants sprouting from the dry ground.
It called to him. It welcomed him. And yet, he was repulsed by it.
“Are you alright?” He turned at the sound of Cere’s voice. He had frozen, one foot onto the planet’s surface, the other stopped mid stride. “Cal?”
“Fine.” He brought his other foot down. The cold feeling only amplified. “I’m perfectly fine.”
“Are you sure? Cal, even the strongest of Jedi faced their worst fears here- “
“I’m fine, Cere,” he said firmly, turning around. “Really, I will be.” Before she could argue anymore, he started off.
This place used to be home to a powerful cabal of Force wielders known as the Nightsisters, Cere had said on the journey there. Cal scanned the environment, feeling as though he were suffocating under the red sunlight.
They used the Force? Greez had asked. What, like Jedi?
No. These witches served only themselves. Their powers focused on deception, illusion, manipulation. During the Clone Wars, the Nightsisters made a deal with a Sith Lord who betrayed their trust. In the end, they were nearly wiped out in a massacre.
He could see remnants of their civilization. Crumbling buildings and stairways, doors forever locked and sealed. The ghosts of the past still wandered around, whispering in his ear, lost and aimless, asking for directions to the other side and to eternal rest. It strangely reminded him of Bogano. However, rather than being reclaimed by the living and breathing wild around, death was the only thing that remained here.
He passed a few echoes — a Nightsister practicing her craft, another chanting in a language he does not understand. In the background of another, he heard noises he recognized as blaster fire. He found a third belonging to an outsider, someone not from this planet. There were pods hanging everywhere, dangling over the walkways and cliffs. BD supplied that these were Nightsister burial pods.
So many of them. So many dead.
Cal had heard stories of the Nightsisters before. They were often used as ghost stories by older children of the crèche to scare the younger, promising that Nightsisters hid under their beds and in dark closets, waiting to take bad and annoying kids away to another realm. The crèchemasters had done all they could to put a stop to this, but it continued to persist.
Ben had told him stories of Nightsisters, of one in particular. An assassin named Asajj Ventress, who worked under Count Dooku. Ben had told him stories of Dathomirians, of the Zabrak males from the planet. Of one named Savage Oppress, the brother of Darth Maul, the Sith Lord Ben had killed during the Clone Wars. Back when he was still known as Obi-Wan Kenobi.
He had- no, he still loved Ben’s stories. Even years after leaving Tatooine, he would still find himself grinning as he recounted them to himself. They all seemed… so preposterous.
Cal often found it hard to believe the two were the same person. He had never encountered Master Kenobi as a Youngling or a Padawan. Master Tapal and the troops always talked highly of him. Cal thought of him as the unflappable Master Kenobi, galactic menace — who faced everything the Separatists threw at him and walked away without a hair out of place and a cheeky grin plastered on his face.
Then there was Ben. Quiet, soft-spoken, and downtrodden Ben. Who shared the same face, told the same stories, had the same memories. Who was a constant, never-changing presence. Always there, always calm. He never took Cal’s bait, no matter how hard Cal pushed him to. Cal had always admired him for it, but lately, he found himself wondering if it was because Ben simply did not have the fight in him to do so.
The wounds on his torso seared brightly. Cal shifted, swallowing the pain back. What would Ben think about all this?
Well, that was a simple answer — he would be disappointed. Extremely.
Why does it matter what Ben would think? Cal shook himself. He had told Ben that he would never see Cal again once he left Tatooine. It would be safer for the both of them to remain apart. Ben was in his past. Ben’s opinion did not matter anymore.
BD warbled, drawing Cal’s attention to a stone slab at the end of a tunnel up ahead. Cal glimpsed four rows of four runes each, sixteen in total. BD hopped off his shoulders, scurrying over to scan it.
“The Zeffo were here,” Cal said as he squatted down next to it. BD warbled in confirmation.
The hairs on the back of Cal’s neck stood up, and he suddenly knew he was not alone.
He spun to his feet, drawing his saber and ignting it. Behind him, fiery green light appeared from nowhere, forming the shape of a person. From the light, a robed woman walked toward him, hood pulled low over her eyes.
“You trespass,” she said with a heavy accent, “Jedi.”
Nightsister, Cal thought. BD supplied the information a moment later. Cal shrugged. “Never really was. Not really so much anymore.”
The Nightsister’s head tilted. With a flick of her hand and another flash of light, two Zabrak warriors suddenly appeared behind her. “Dathomir is forbidden to you. Leave at once.”
Cal raised his free hand. “I’m afraid I can’t do that- “(the Nightsister’s eyes narrowed)” -but since you know this planet so well, maybe you could help me- “
The Nightsister raised her hands, green sparks dancing around her fingers.
“Whoa.” Cal tensed. BD scurried back up onto his shoulders. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
She hummed. “Your actions say otherwise.” The green sparks shot out, engulfing the Zabrak males. She stepped back and disappeared in a fiery haze a moment later.
Green tendrils of energy swirled and wrapped around the Zabraks. Their eyes reflected the exact same color. A moment later, they opened their mouths, let out identical cries of war, and charged.
Of course, Cal thought with a sigh.
He dispatched off them but moments later in a flurry of swipes and fallen limbs and heads, only taking a few blows to his torso. Each one narrowly missed his old wounds, but he knew he would be left with some pretty nasty bruises.
“Well.” Cal deactivated his saber and holstered it. “That was rude.”
BD whooped in agreement.
He traveled on for some time, following BD’s holomap. He continued to feel as though he was not alone. The hairs on the back of his neck would raise, and he would search the landscape for the Nightsister, but he saw nothing.
And I thought Greez was paranoid. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, shaking himself. Stars, he needed… rest? A pound of caf? A right cross to the face? Two right crosses to the face? At this rate, he would take anything.
He came up on a clearing when he heard the sound of footsteps crunching through the dry ground. In the corner of his eye, a black-cloaked figure stepped out from behind a rock. “Ah, fellow wanderer!” he said, voice scratchy as if from unuse.
Cal froze, hand reaching for his saber.
He clocked the bruises on Cal’s face. “I see you met the resident Nightsister. Unlike most- “he looked Cal up and down” -you are alive.” His eyes flitted down to Cal’s hand over his saber. “Oh, is that- “
“What do you want?” Cal demanded, dropping all emotion but menace from his tone. The Fourth Brother pushed at his mind, and he allowed him to drop into it. “Speak, before I decide you’re not worth my time.”
The man held up his hands. “I was just going to say that I saw your lightsbaer. It might explain your survival.”
“Who are you?” Cal said.
The man’s eyes continued to rake over Cal, as if he were studying a specimen. They darted from the black armor to the symbol on Cal’s shoulder, and lastly, on Cal’s eyes. “No one of harm,” he replied. “Just a fellow traveler studying the nature of extinct cultures and dead philosophies. "
“Like the Nightsisters?”
“Oh, yes.” A fire lit in the man’s eyes, the fire of a historian digging into a new piece of information. “That Nightsister. She was only a child when the war came to this world. She had to watch her whole family perish.”
He sounded excited about it. Cal’s skin crawled, but he refused to back down. He held the man’s gaze, unflinching and not blinking, for several moments until the wanderer did so himself.
A sick sense of satisfaction rose in Cal as he watched the man nearly wilt under his predtor-like stare. “What do you know about these ruins?” Cal asked, pointing to the large, crumbling structure to his left.
The man chuckled, back to the light-hearted tone. “Ancient beyond belief. The Nightsister and her warrior kin were seduced by the power that lurks within. A- avoid the ruin,” he added hurriedly as Cal started toward it, “or suffer the same fate.”
Can’t be any worse than where I am now, Cal thought bitterly, starting toward it. As he left the man in the dust, he somehow felt slightly warmer.
Minutes later, he found himself in a large cavern. “You will go no futher.” The voice of the Nightsister echoed through the open space as she appeared in a flash of green light.
Cal activated his saber again, fully disappearing away. “Stand aside!” the Fourth Brother demanded.
“No!” she argued. “He was right about you.”
“Who?”
“Jedi are thieves and selfish liars,” the Nightsister continued as though he had not spoken, “who bring nothing but death.”
“Then I suppose there is a good thing for you in all this,” the Fourth Brother fired back. “I am no Jedi.”
“No, you are not.” She lifted her head, nose turned up. “You are something far worse.”
“If you attack me again, I will have no choice but to retaliate,” the Fourth Brother said.
“Oh, I won’t do a thing.” She raised her hands. “But my fallen sisters- “she held them out toward three pods hanging over the Fourth Brother” -they will have their revenge!” She disappeared in another flash of green light.
The pods cracked open. He leaped back as bodies fell out. The Fourth Brother tensed, holding his saber with one side tilted down and the other up, as the bodies unfurled from a fetal positions, bones cracking, dusty skin tumbling off and mixing with that of the planet’s, and rose to their feet.
Oh, stars. Somewhere between Cal and the Fourth Brother, there was the same thought — That is the most absolutely disgusting thing I have ever seen.
He did not stop. He cut through them, slicing through each one. They gave minimal resistance, but there were so many. More than he would have expected. What felt like hundreds of dead bodies, possessed and spurred forward by vengeful spirits looking for revenge against the Jedi. The Nightsister’s voice taunted him through all of it, telling him how pointless it all was, how he needed to leave, how this would be her final warning.
It was her final warning more times than one, so he did not put much stock into her threats.
He cut through all of them. Beast and man, living and dead, giving little thought. Limbs dropped, men and animals screamed and pain, Nightsisters falling for the very last time. It did not matter. None of it matter. At the end of the day, they were all small and so inconsequential to the rest of the galaxy. What did it matter if life ended here for them? The worlds would continue to spin as they always did. People would wake up and go about their daily lives never knowing the slaughter that had taken place here. They were nothing. He was nothing. Everyone, everywhere, they were all nothing.
Before he knew it, BD whooped, informing him they were at the entrance to the Astrium. Cal sharply dropped back into himself.
“You are hard to track.” He spun as the Nightsister appeared several yards away from him and the entrance.
“And why’s that?”
“This planet feels like the dead. You are no different than it.” Before he could question any further, she disappeared.
Cal shook himself. He deactivated his saber and holstered. He brushed what he hoped was dust and not dead, dry skin off his gloves before stepping inside the cavern.
“My friend,” the voice of Eno Cordova played through BD’s as Cal approached a massive golden door, “we’ve reached the tomb of Kujet in search of an Astrium. It is more secluded than even I wouldn’t thought. It seems the way in was secret even during the time of the Zeffo. A contrast from the ostentatious Tomb of Miktrull… yet not a welcome one. The Nightsisters of Dathomir granted me passage, but even they warned me against these ruins. Something dark transpired here — I can feel it.”
The cold was powerful. Painful. So intense it was almost warm.
The door was engraved with same runes as the stone tablet. Cal saw a flash of light through the crack. He gingerly reached out to touch it-
And nothing happened.
Cal scoffed. “Well,” he said aloud, “that was certainly anticlimac- “
The world dropped out from underneath him. Cal fell.
Ready for a rematch later?
Yeah! Anytime!
I heard we’re getting new orders soon?
Finally! I’m ready to be gone from this dump!
We’re leaving Bracca?
Possibly.
Ah, don’t get his hopes up with second-hand gossip.
Padawan, it is time for instruction.
Yes, Master?
Reach our position. And do not keep me waiting.
We have orders. Bracca is secure. We move out for Mygeeto shortly. You must-
Master, are you okay?
Something is… wrong…
Something terrible is happening…
Get to the escape pods. Use the maintenance halls. We trained for this. Do you remember?
Yes, Master… what about you?
I will create a distraction and meet you. If I am not there when you arrive, depart without me. I will find you on Bracca? Do you understand?
This doesn’t make sense. What’s going on?
Do you have eyes on the Jedi?
No sign of the little one.
Search everywhere. He can’t have gone far…
Cal, hurry!
This… war is not over, my Padawan. Hold the line. Wait for the Jedi Council’s signal. Remember… trust only…
Trust only in the Force…
Cal finally hit the ground hard on his side. Hearing and vision slowly came back to him, leeching back into his eyes and ears respectively. He pushed himself up onto his knees, the wounds on his chest burning. He was still in a cavern, this one dark, stretching so far that he could not see the walls. The edges of his vision, as far as he could see, were layered in thick, misty fog. BD’s familiar weight was missing from his shoulders.
Something felt… off. He lifted a hand. It shook, shook violently. He tired to still it, bu the shaking persisted. Cold trickled down his spine, cold he recognized as fear, clawing at his chest, clenching around his heart (he skipped a breath), threatening to pull him under-
“It wasn’t real,” he said aloud, shaking himself. He wrapped his arms around himself, willing the pain to go away. “It wasn’t real- “
It was real. It had all been real one day. It was still real.
A gasp echoed through the cavern. He scrambled to his feet and spun. The small child from the forest stood behind him. Barely half his height, a shock of red hair with a Padawan’s braid falling over his shoulder, robes that swallowed him and made him look far tinier than he really was.
“Hey.” Cal stepped forward.
The younger version of himself took a step back, eyes wide with terror.
“Padawan!”
Cal spun back the other direction. A blurred shape was making its way out of the fog. Tall, broad, intimidating. Familiar.
“Master? But- “he turned back, and his child self had vanished.
The sound of an igniting saber drew his attention back to his master. Jaro Tapal had activated his saber. His master lifted the blade — bright blue, shining, and beautiful — and pointed the tip at him. “It is time for instruction.”
He noticed Cal staring at the blade. “You see it as it once was? Before it was tarnished by your anger and your hatred for the very world you were to protect? Before it was corrupted by the failure you have become?”
“Master- “
“Take up your saber!” Cal froze at the sharp tone of his master’s voice, echoed by the hollow cavern. Master Tapal had never spoken to him that way. “Prove to me you are still worth something!”
The Fourth Brother pushed at him. Cal shook him off, drawing his own saber and activating it, bathing the cavern in bloodred light.
Master Tapal let out a disdainful scoff, then lunged.
His fight was useless. As a Padawan, Cal could have only dreamed to be as good as Master Tapal one day. In his tenure as the Fourth Brother, he had believed he was better.
Now, he knew it was all just a stupid fantasy, just his ego getting the best of him. Every move he made, Master Tapal knew how to counter effortlessly. Cal’s strikes were petty, small, and weak compared to the hits and blows his master can get in. Near misses with limbs, a hit to the face that almost took Cal out, all the while taunting him.
“Your will is weak. You lack discipline,” he spat before slicing at Cal’s head.
“You let your anger control you. You let it govern your connection to the Force.” A blow of Cal’s blocked. “A feeble display!”
Tapal shoved him back. Before Cal could move again, a sharp pain stabbed in his head, stars dancing in his eyes. He let out a pained cry, stumbling to his knees. The wounds on his chest burn once more. He thinks his lungs might collapse in on themselves.
“No,” he begged weakly. “No, please, not now- “
But all it wanted to do was to protect him. It had never left him, not when so many others had. It knew he was worthless and hopeless, but it still stayed. It got him through the chair, through his time in the Inquisitors, through so, so much. Shouldn’t Cal trust it by now?
Master Tapal scoffed again, stalking closer to Cal. “Is this what is to become of my Padawan? Is this what is to carry on my legacy, the legacies of so many others? This- this failure?” He raised his saber, aiming for Cal’s head.
Cal let out an angry cry and lunged forward, shoving the blade right through Tapal’s chest.
The horror of what he has done hit him a moment later. He could not pull the blade from his master’s chest, could not take his hands off the cursed weapon that had caused so much harm. Only look up at Master Tapal in terror.
However, Master Tapal was unconcerned by the saber blade running a hole through him. He let out a laugh. “Yes. My blood is on your hands, apprentice.” He snatched Cal’s wrists. Cal jerked against his grip, but it was no good. “As is so many others. You are a failure. A weakling. A traitor.”
Cal shook his head. “Please, I- I didn’t have a choice- “
“You should have died!” He slammed his hands into Cal’s chest, shoving him away-
Cal landed hard on the ground once more. He scrambled to his feet, summoning his saber to his hand and activing it, panickedly looking around.
BD whooped in concern. Cal realized he was back at the entrance to the Astrium.
His saber had not activated. He glanced down, and his heart sank.
“No,” he whispered. Wires sticking out from the hilt, sparking. Cracks running up through the metal, exposing the crystal inside. He pressed the trigger, and nothing happened.
You see it as it once was? Before it was tarnished by your anger and your hatred for the very world you were to protect? Before it was corrupted by the failure you have become?
“No- “his voice broke. He covered his mouth with his hand to stop the sob from escaping.
It had been Master Tapal’s. The last thing he had of his master, his old life. Of who he once was, of who he should have been. Now corrupted, disgusting, broken beyond repair. Just like himself.
Cal looked up to the door of the Astrium. The same fear gripped him, and he shook his head. “No. No, I’m not- I can’t- I- “
He turned and fled.
BD scurried to catch up, warbling and whistling for Cal to wait for him. Cal bursted from the cavern, into the red sunlight of Dathomir, before he finally came to a stop. BD scrambled up onto his shoulders, scolding Cal for leaving him behind.
The wounds on his chest burned, and the pain stabbed across his skull again. Cal let out another pained cry, shoving his face into his hands. “No, not you, I don’t want you. Leave me alone, leave me alone- “
“But I haven’t said anything.”
Cal’s head shot up from his hands.
The cloaked wanderer stood a few feet in front of him, head tilted curiously. “Did things not go as planned? You can’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Cal shook his head, stalking past him. “I don’t want your input.”
“Leave you? Alone? Lost… and defenseless in this dangerous place?”
Cal stopped, back to him. The Fourth Brother pushed again. Cal could not find the strength to shove him away, so he let him stay. It would be so easy, to drop back into it, to threaten or even kill this man-
My blood is on your hands, apprentice.
Cal spun. “Who are you really?”
The man reached for the sides of the cloak and slipped it over his head, dropping it to the ground. Underneath, he was shirtless, his bare chest carved with crude imitations of Nightbrother tattoos. Two sabers hung at his belt.
“Taron Malicos.” He spread his arms wide. “Former Jedi. Just like yourself. We have so much in common.”
“No, we don’t,” Cal snapped.
“Oh?” Malicos tilted his head. “We both survived the Purge. My troops turned on me. I was forced to strike them down, and I escaped. This- “he motioned to the world around and chuckled” -desolate place… the darkness here… it almost took me. But I conquered it. I conquered them.” He motioned to two strands on his belt. Cal recognized them to be Zabrak horns. “These savages only respect strength. We both know that the Force is a powerful ally. These are dark times. We will perish if we do not stand together.”
Cal chuckled harshly and shook his head. “I don’t want your help.” He turned to leave.
“That broken lightsaber- “
Sharply, without warning or permission, the Fourth Brother dropped in. He shoved a hand outward, blasting Malicos back into a rock and holding him there. “I don’t want your help!” he shouted. “I don’t want anything you have to offer me!”
“I- I can teach you how to control this power!”
“Control it?” the Fourth Brother spat. “You think that’s what I want? You think I want every living thing to flinch away from me? You think I want the world to be disgusted by my existence? You think I want to enjoy this again?”
Malicos raises his head off the rock. “Again?”
Cal dropped back into himself, reeling his hand away. Malicos fell to the ground on his knees. “Then it should be easy for you.”
Easy.
Easy.
Electricity ripping through his body, the last memories of people like him, men, women, elderly, children, tearing through his mind, the terror in his victim’s eyes as his saber is the last thing they see, they didn’t want to die, none of them did, why did he have to take that from them, why did he get to decide who lived and who died, why can he never leave it all in the past-
Caleb’s mouth dropped in horror as he realized what his best friend had become, Prauf who had given him so much kindness that he never deserved, so much kindness that someone better than him would have benefitted from, Ben, who had put so much into him, Cere, who foolishly belied he could help rebuild a better future for the galaxy, Master Tapal, who had died to protect a monster-
Easy.
It was easy to be that.
It had been.
No. It wasn’t.
It had never been.
“Join my family,” Malicos urged.
“No.” Cal shook his head, slowly backing away. “No, no, I can’t- I can’t do this again- “
“Oh?” Malicos pulled himself to his feet, tilting his head. “And why can’t you?”
The Shyyyo bird that might have welcomed him back into the light, now having fled from him in terror, Greez threatening to send him back to the Empire because of what he had done, because they both knew it was the right decision, Pango’s chest spilled out onto the floor of the arena and blood staining the fabric of his gloves, always and permanently staining his hands, the light fading out of the Ninth Sister’s eyes, constant terror and fear clinging to him, death following him around like a shadow, hanging over everything, every living and breathing creature flinching and running at his presence-
Nauseau clawed its way up his throat. The wounds on his torso began to burn. He can almost feel the Second Sister’s saber stabbing a hole right through him, dropping him to the ground and leaving him to die on the sands of Tattooine. Those should have been his last moments in his realm, he should be gone, none of this should be happening.
“I sense you’re afraid,” Malicos said, as if the fact were not obvious. He spread his arms wide. “Why fear when you can be the one who is feared? If you join my family- “
“I want nothing to do with you,” Cal hissed.
“Join my family?” The Nightsister’s voice radiated through the clearing. Cal spun as she appeared in a green flash atop a pillar. “Familiar words, Malicos,” she spat at him.
“Sister Merrin,” Malicos said. “You overstep your bounds.”
“For years you said the Jedi orchestrated the massacre that killed my sisters,” Merrin said. “Yet, here a shadow of one stands. You seek only to bring him into your… family.” She snarled the word.
“You were told to deal with it!” Malicos threw back. “Perhaps you lack the power!”
“Power?” Cal got the sense Malicos had truthfully and wholefully offended her. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. “You are mad, Malicos. Dathomir has unmade you. My misplaced loyalty has allowed you to lead the Nightbrothers astray. Unlike the Jedi, the Nightsisters of Dathomir do not turn on their own kind. Our bond is eternal.”
“Your sisters are all dead.”
“Their graves are all around you.”
Time to go, BD whooped in his ear as Cal took stock of the pods hanging all around them. The Nightsister began to chant, green sparks drawing in toward her. In flashes of green light, the pods cracked open, bodies dropping to the ground.
“Foolish girl!” Malicos exclaimed. “This power is beyond your control!”
“You both shall learn.” Merrin’s voice rang through the clearing. “When you face one Nightsister of Dathomir, you face us all!”
The Nightsisters pulled themselves to their feet, bones cracking, eyes alight with green fire, as Cal took off for the Mantis.
They chase after him, surprisingly light and nimble despite being bone, skeletal corpses. “Cere!” He yells into his comm. Stars above, please pick up-
“Cal?”
“Tell Greez to get the Mantis running! This Nightsister- she raised the dead! They’re chasing me!”
Greez swore. “You’re leading them here?”
“Captain, prepare for takeoff!” The channel cut out.
He sprinted across the bridges, cliffs, and walkways, dodging around the dead Nightsisters. They swiped and clawed at him, screaming every time he escaped their grasp. Death clung to them, clung to him, as they passed. Nothing more than shadows, remnants of what they once were.
The Mantis appeared in his vision, and he picked up his pace, scrambling up the ramp and inside. Once Greez had eyes on Cal, the ship lifted into the air. “What the hell did you do, kid? I got dead witches crawling all over my ship! Dead witches on my ship- !”
“Go!” Cal begged weakly. “Just- just go… “
He turned, back to the wall, and sank down to the floor, his broken saber held tightly to his chest. Master Tapal’s broken saber-
“What happened?” Cere appeared in front of him. “Did you find the Tomb?”
“He’s right,” Cal forced out. “He’s- he’s right. I- I should’ve- I didn’t- he’s right- “
“Who?” Cere knelt down in front of him, her worry obvious on her face. “Did you see someone?”
“My master,” Cal explained. “I saw him. I- he’s right.”
“What did he say?”
It took Cal a moment to find the words. “When I was with the Empire, I had a choice — submit or die.”
“Cal- “Cere said, already knowing where this was going.
“I should’ve died,” Cal finished. “I should’ve died. I shouldn’t have let myself become this. I enjoyed it, Cere. I enjoyed being this monster that everyone was afraid of. That’s not what he died for. That’s not who he died to protect.”
“Cal, you did what you had to do to survive- “
“At what cost?” he threw back at her.
He expected her to argue. Instead, her eyes soften, and she shifted to sit opposite him. “Cal, it’s time I told you everything that happened to me when I escaped the Empire. They brought Trilla in the room. When I saw her eyes… they showed me what I had caused. She was an Inquisitor. And something in me gave. And I lost control. And- and I tapped into the dark side. I killed every last one of them except for her.”
Cal dropped his gaze away from hers and closed his eyes, willing memories of Nur out of his mind. He remembered the moment he snapped. The moment he gave, he turned, he became a coward. The moment he ran to the easy solution.
You should have died.
Cal swallowed another sob.
“And for years… “she paused. “For years, I couldn’t forgive myself. I was a wreck because I had all this rage. I tried pushing it down by there was no hiding from myself. And then, I learned about the holocron. I learned about this spark of hope, that there could be a future.”
“What?” Cal’s eyes flew open. “Is your stupid holocron supposed to make me feel better?”
She shook her head. “The holocron may have been the way you started on this path, but it isn’t the reason you are still on it. You are still here because you are meant to be. Because you are meant for something more, something greater than the Empire could have ever imagined for you.”
She stood, then offered him a hand. He took it, and she pulled him to his feet. “I can’t change what I did no more than you can. But you have to make a choice to move on. It doesn’t matter if you don’t think you can do it. I do. So did your Master. He knew that you were worth saving and protecting for a reason. And, the moving on, it isn’t going to be easy, but you are so much more than they ever made you believe, Cal. Than the Fourth Brother believes.”
And, for once, his head was silent. No quite thrum, reminding him that it is always there. No intruding presence, threatening to overtake what little sense of self he had. It was just… him. Just Cal Kestis.
“The relapses,” he said, “the pain, the fear… I can’t live like this, Cere. I can’t do this again.”
She nodded. “So make the choice not to.”
Choice.
He had chosen not to kill Caleb. He had chosen to turn away from the dark side the first time, to stand up to the Second Sister. To reach back into the Force, to risk everything, to save Prauf. All his choice. Not the Empire’s. Not the Fourth Brother’s. Cal’s choice. All that had felt like the right ones.
He did not know if he truly believed it now. Or if he ever would. But he felt warm. The same comforting warm that he had felt when he reached out to save Prauf. The warm that felt like home, that sounded like his master, like Prauf, Ben, and now Cere.
So, he looked to her and asked, “What do I need to do?”