Wolph in the Fold, Part III
Posted on Sun May 23rd, 2021 @ 10:46am by Bomoor Thort & Thane & Amare
Edited on on Sun May 23rd, 2021 @ 10:53am
4,543 words; about a 23 minute read
Chapter:
Chapter VI: The Last Bastion
Location: Reborn Jedi High Temple, Coruscant
Timeline: Mid-Week Three
OLD
Amare's attention had been so wholly focused on Sotah that she failed to notice another pair of bright green eyes at the other end of the Archives that had stopped and taken notice of the tail-end of the conversation.
Rusasha Lahan had seen the Nautolan bow to the Selkath Jedi Master before turning about and exiting back the way she came. She stopped some distance away in the adjoining hall and blinked her eyes towards the floor in disbelief whilst shaking her head. For a split second, she thought she saw Zenarrah again, but this one was younger, the smoother skin a shade more pale, the lekku not quite as long, and stood a bit shorter than Zen. She was positive it was an outsider for the few other Nautolan Jedi in the Temple were tall males with green or purple skin.
Ru decided to slip away quietly, pulling the hood of her plain brown Jedi robe over her head to avoid being noticed by Sotah as she left to resume her menial labours. Since she was under the punishment of an oath of silence, she decided it was better to keep her distance for the time being and try to find some way later to keep tabs on the strange visiting blue Nautolan padawan...
NEW
Amare now stood before an intricate display of wall art, both smooth and rough stone wrought into the ancient-looking wall that resided at the far-reaches of the expansive Archives maintained by the Reborn Jedi Order. It was darker here and quieter; there were fewer light sources dotted around the area and next to no Jedi parading. Where Amare had previously been conducting her research, having been waylaid by Illyvar and Sotah, there had been an abundance of knights and padawans, poring over the data held by the monastic order. This section, however, was where she had divined the darker, more secretive lore was preserved, kept from the prying eyes of the younger or less-prestigious ranks of Jedi.
Interestingly, the motif before her provided no indication that it concealed the deeper vault of Force knowledge, but that was likely by design. Even some manner of esoteric signature was largely absent, as if some great work had been conducted around the surreptitious stone to blind any perusing Jedi (or elsewise) to the secrets locked within. Given this vault, which was likely to be quite different from the one nestled within the Red Raptor, was the preserve of the High Council and elite Jedi Shadows, it was unsurprising that the temple's masters had gone to such great lengths to preserve this forbidden knowledge.
It was surprising, however, that any such knowledge had even been retained, given the preference for 'book-burning' the modern iteration of Jedi seemed to have. Presumably, much of the information contained would actually relate to deeper Jedi powers, as opposed to the retention of dark side lore.
Externally, there were not even any Temple Guards or (visible) Jedi Shadows guarding the area, so possibly committed were the Jedi to not drawing attention to the secretive location.
Pondering on how to unlock the secret path, let alone even knowing what it looked like, Amare found herself teetering dangerously on the proverbial tightrope. Maintaining the mental camouflage of her dark alignment within the Force was steadily becoming a mental chore, taxing and wearing her thin. Her bones felt weary, her muscles ached, and there was a nervous steady twitch in her right eyelid. She was still not fully recovered from her last mission, and focusing on the task at hand was starting to give more and more way to thoughts of sleep.
"No..." she muttered angrily to herself, snapping her focus back in alignment, "...I can sleep when I'm dead. Think, you idiot. Think! Your intuitions and some luck got you to this point, but what is that's so special here? The opportunity is now. No one is looking. No cameras, no eyes on me."
She put a hand to her forehead as a tension headache started to set in. She braced her back against the wall opposite the artwork and gradually slid down its length until she found herself seated on the floor. She needed a moment to rest, just a little time to think. Just needed a few winks to sort things out...
"Loren would not let anything slip. Nothing."
The voice sounded almost ethereal, like a far-off echo through a series of caverns, or a poorly-recalled memory of something that may or may not have actually happened - a concept that was only more reinforced by the familiarity of the voice, even if it was higher and lighter than the one Amare knew.
She was looking at the same hallway, she could tell, with that same wall of ornate carvings stretching in either direction, dark shadows accenting the nooks and crannies of the labyrinthine Jedi Archives. A misty hue had engulfed the room, however, and forms and shapes seemed to lack any sharp or defined contours. It was not dissimilar to looking at objects underwater, obscured by the eddies.
"I'm certain this is the place, though," the distinctive and familiar voice continued, and its owner finally began to shimmer into existence before the wall; an adolescent male, garbed in the traditional Jedi wear, with a mop of dark-brown hair hanging close to his eyes. He was looking further along, to where another form was gradually taking shape.
Rattled by the spectacle she was witnessing, Amare rose back to her feet and couldn't believe what was in front of her. It seemed like a waking dream playing out like an elaborate holo-vid, only more...real.
"Thane?" she quietly asked, but the echo of the past continued to progress as if she wasn't even there. "Bomoor?" She reached a hand out to touch the younger Bomoor's shoulder, but she felt nothing but lukewarm air.
Thane had now turned to run a hand along the soft carvings that formed the stone fresco, every gesture shimmering with that same wisping and dream-like appearance.
"The tale of the Second Great Schism," the young apparition of Amare's master said. Whilst he stopped short of scoffing, as the elder Thane would no doubt have done - if he indeed had verbalised anything on the subject - there was a curious eyebrow raised at the image, and more than a hint of scepticism in his youthful voice.
The vision of Bomoor, still tall despite his youth, stretched his own wispy fingers across the images of dark, twisted figures with glowing red eyes, "The defectors are depicted so frightfully but were they not just normal Jedi before this moment? And what happened to redemption? These glowing ancient Jedi are casting out their former friends as though they are vermin."
As she watched and listened attentively to the echoes of the future Jedi Knights, Amare found it truly remarkable how many learning opportunities the Force provided, often in the most unexpected ways. Even lessons that stretched across time, linked from the past to the present. It eroded her acceptance of random chance and coincidences and made her faith grow in the possibility that destiny and fate were the truths of the universe.
For just a split second, as Amare thought she was close to discovering one of the Temple's great secrets, she thought something felt...off. She glanced over her shoulder, shifting her vision left and right, but saw no one close by. She shook her head and resumed her focus and concentration on young Thane and Bomoor's mischievous exploration, not wanting to lose her temporal connection to her master's past self.
"If you were a bigoted Jedi, looking to hide away all of the secrets of your worst enemies... what sort of lock would you use?" Thane posed aloud, now beginning to pace back and forth in front of the wall. There was a hint of frustration growing in his young voice; he was struggling with youthful impatience, and the seeds of the mindset of the man he would become were quite plain.
"A cheap point, maybe?" He asked, now looking more directly at Bomoor. "Or some way to insult them." He now pointed at the skewed, warped depictions of the Dark Jedi from the Schism. "If Master Sotah had had a hand in this, there would be a clever point to work out."
The low chuckle of the Ithorian rang out across the years to Amare as he spoke to his friend, “Very true and I’m sure the answer would be some point of reflection within yourself. But we should perhaps assume the lesson is more of the Waayist variety. Are you sure Loren did not mention anything else about the mechanism, assuming there is one?”
"There is that name again...Loren," Amare said in low whisper to herself as it appeared as if the image of the past was starting to fade. "No...I'm losing the vision. It's too soon. I was so close..."
She had almost jumped in a startle when suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder that was as firm as Thane's touch, but with fingers there were more like her own. Yet, she knew it was someone not from without, but from within.
~~"It is no coincidence that you are witnessing this,"~~ said a familiar presence that spoke directly to her mind with Amare's own voice. ~~"There is a wrinkle here...a convergence in the flow of the Force where light and darkness meet. Do you feel it? Kneel and close your eyes. Bring your thoughts back to that night on the Red Raptor when you felt that first connection to Thane through your gold Sentinel crystal. Remember her face. Do you see it?"
Amare did as her essence guided her. "Yes..." she answered after a moment. "Loren...in a place called Jericho."
~~"Good. Shadrak's former connection to you has left a lasting mark. Your spirit is a beacon to the dark side, and it answers your call. This is how you've grown so quickly in power, and it is not by accident. The goal you seek is close...so very close. In your mind, weave a tapestry of Thane's, Bomoor's, and Loren's faces, and see yourself in the center."~~
By instinct, Amare arranged their faces as a triangle, with Thane at the apex, Bomoor to the lower right, and Loren to the left across from him. She envisioned engravings in her's mind's painting, very much resembling one side of Darth Bane's pyramidal holocron. She then placed herself in the heart of the triangle and started to feel the harmony between them.
~~"The image you just created...that is your foundation. Darth Bane's teachings are finally becoming clear now. That is your path to power. In time, you will fight to control all points of the triad, destroying them one by one, and, if you are wise, you will reign supreme. For now, you must control the moment. Do not look, but listen. Do not allow the will of the Force or the tricks of the Jedi to blind you from the truth. Push back with all of your frustration and hatred and let the past inform your future."~~
Amare clenched her teeth tight as she focused her thoughts on the triad she envisioned, shutting out everything else around her. When that wasn't enough, she decided she would have to risk momentarily dropping her alignment-concealing illusion. It was only then that she had the capacity to force the vision of the brotherly padawans from the past to reappear and reveal the way ahead. For that moment, without any tricks or deception, a Sith Lord was truly in the midst of the Jedi Temple. It was only a matter of time before a nearby Jedi sensed the unthinkable.
And, queerly, both Thane and Bomoor seemed to pause for a moment, stiffening for the briefest of seconds and glancing quickly behind them, almost to the spot where Amare 'stood'. It was, however, just that: brief. With neither seeming to think anything more of whatever had disturbed them, they looked back to the fresco.
"No," Thane confirmed to Bomoor, resting a hand on the stonework. "Loren really was surprisingly tight-lipped; I actually thought she would have revealed something - anything - that may have given some help. She really does take her duties as a Shadow quite seriously, it seems, for all of her bluster and boyish machismo."
Although the young Thane was clearly frustrated at the impediment to their success, there was a fondness in his voice as he spoke of Loren, and the half-smile that Amare already knew so well was tugging at one side of his pale, youthful features.
"She's changed a lot," he admitted, still smiling, "or so both she and Sotah claim. Master Sotah has said, on more than one occasion, that even the best-intentioned of Jedi Knights sometimes require redemption - and forgiveness from the rest."
The look of reverie adorning Thane's face only lasted a second, however, as the area of stone his hand was resting on suddenly shimmered, with a thin line of bright light filling the intricate carving near to where his fingers lay. The unexpected display clearly caught the young Caanan off-guard, and he immediately retracted his hand. As soon as he did, the slither of light withdrew from the stone, returning it to its previous, comparatively dull appearance.
He immediately looked to Bomoor, but before he could say anything, another voice - also familiar, if higher and younger, too - rung out from further along the hallway, drawing his and Bomoor's attention towards it.
“I’m sure of it,” came the heightened voice, “I didn’t trust them, Master Medion.”
“Hush,” came a stern, muted voice in reply, “Temper your emotions, Illyvar. We will see soon enough.”
There was a brief, wordless exchange of exasperation between Thane and Bomoor before they turned away from the wall and hurried away swiftly and silently back into the depths of the past, beyond the scope of the vision. The two interrupting figures never materialised; the vision was ended, leaving Amare once again alone in front of the wall.
With the truth revealed, Amare quickly refocused her feelings towards more positive thoughts. Though she had been immersed in the dark side quite regularly over the past year, she hadn't forgotten simpler times when she was innocent and full of hope growing up on a tropical island surrounded by the vastness of the great Mother Spirit's seemingly infinite ocean.
She thought back to Wolph's Harp--the prized guitar-like instrument of her adopted family--and the times her mother would teach her to play. She struggled to learn its use for years, but she finally found mastery over a favorite song called "Hopeful Waves (Upon an Innocent Sea)". She played each note immaculately in her head with great fondness and nostalgia, and just a moment later, she reequipped the persona of Zaracoda once again, the dark side around her clouding the truth and using Amare's former capacity for kindness as both a vile deception and a method of survival in the heart of the enemy's lair.
I know what to do... Amare thought, her spirit flush with confidence as she reached for the same space on the fresco that Thane had touched in the past. It was nice to have help on these solo missions for a change, even if that meant it came from an earlier point in time, a time she wish she could've shared with them. As she drew upon the Force, the memory of healing Thane on Vaa came to mind, and she wondered what kind of a Jedi she would have been, or if she would have been friends with the two former Knights. It was a pleasant thought, the stuff that dreams were made of, and the sort of thinking that opened doors...
The so-called Bogan Archive was dimly-lit, being a fitting contrast from the well-illuminated halls of the rest of the Jedi High Temple. At first, after the mural had given soundlessly away to a cramped passageway, the would-be Dark Lord's apprentice was met by nothing of significance; old stone, poorly carved, lined her way into another chamber. Although it was dark, the stylings of the walls and limited furniture were akin to the previous areas in the Archives she had been exploring, albeit there was less space to manoeuvre, and there were none of the comfortable trappings that made the Temple so appealing to its usual inhabitants and audience.
Old stone torches and braziers illuminated themselves with a deep-crimson flame as the Nautolan passed by, looking more like the red wisps of Amare's own macabre Force talents than true fire, but there were no signs of any guards or security systems. Either Quellus' Jedi Order was confident in its ability to shield its secrets, or they truly did not trust even their own Shadows to be in such close and frequent proximity to their most-guarded dark secrets and trophies. Or, perhaps even more likely, there were not many objects that they had even deigned to retain, so dogged were they in their desire to destroy most artefacts not aligned to their ideals.
The traversal through the passage nostalgically inspired Amare's mind to drift back to her short time on Irrikut. She recalled with great clarity the underground dark keep she found in that cave she had taken shelter in during the days of survival that led up to her first lesson as a Sith apprentice. The masonry from there to here was similar and almost as decrepit in many ways. She remembered the subterranean waterfalls, the fair helpings of coloured crystals found is some corridors, and the phantom-like monster that attacked her under the water. She assured herself that if she could survive such a place, find its treasure, and overcome all the challenges that followed, then surely she could find and escape with what was here. She could feel the anticipation rippling through her hearts with giddy curiosity and wanton desire to find something that could make her more powerful, perhaps even more than Lord Serus himself.
Eventually, the narrow corridors and alcoves gave way to a larger. Unlike the path that led Amare here, there seemed to be some manner of natural light seeping into the room, landing on a number of objects that were littered on pedestals, collected on bookshelves, plastered to the walls, or even hanging suspended from the ceiling. The most notable of the latter was the skeletal remnant of some winged monstrosity, which loomed large over everything else. It was difficult to imagine how the display was even brought into the chamber in such a splendid condition.
The dark side, here, was finally more palpable to the Sith intruder, although it was still a meagre offering, compared to the likes of the darkness she encountered on either Korriban or even Vaa. And, as expected, the nexus of this grim current was a queerly-shaped object nestled at the centre of the room.
As she approached the curious artefact, Amare noted its form: it was crystalline and translucent with only the faintest hint of red, which glinted only when the faint light struck it at the right angle. There was an intelligent energy emanating from it that told her it was a holocron, but she did not feel that palpable, pulsing darkness as the other holocrons her master had allowed her access to. It also lacked their perfect symmetry of design, appearing almost organic and naked without any over designed housing to mask its form.
This almost certainly was the object that she had been tasked to recover: the Telos Holocron. Her outstretched fingers gently grazed the crystal surface and she felt a deep reaction; a recognition within the device of the Nautolan's presence. Then, to her surprise, she witnessed a small fracture forming within the crystal emanating from where she had touched it. It spread out throughout the crystal like fingers of frost until the crystal had turned almost completely white.
A tinny whine became audible and a faint light began to form into an image above the crystal.
"Nice to handle, nice to hold..." a light but burbling voice addressed Amare, "Once broken, no secrets are told."
Amare's excitement was shattered in an instant upon recognizing that it was not a long-deceased Sith keeper of ancient secrets that appeared before her, but a clever Jedi ruse.
The image of a female Rodian with mottled green skin, garbed in a humble Jedi robe, began to define itself before her eyes, but the image quality was degraded and jerked around randomly.
"If you're talking, whoever you are, I'm afraid I cannot answer. I didn't have the time to program a proper gatekeeper into this replica holocron, as much as I would have liked to. You will have to settle for my pre-recorded message. I'm not sure who you are, but I hope you are one of Quellus' lot. You will be most displeased to know that what you hold in your destructive hands is NOT the Telos Holocron, but is a replica I placed here after securing the genuine article into my possession. I have watched Quellus' crusade against knowledge for far too long. This object contains perhaps the most valuable knowledge of all: the archive of our mistakes dating back to the original fracturing of our order and the creation of the Sith from the resulting dark Jedi. Quellus: I knew in time your fear of the Sith would turn to hatred and you would tear open this vault to finish what you started when you turned onto this self-destructive path. Now the Order faces division again as you once again deny the Outer Rim its guardians. Well, I am siding with my sisters and brothers that walked across that battlefield on Cathar. In the name of Zam Kassar and his true Jedi I claim this artefact and will ensure, with every fibre of my being and every midichlorian in my blood, that you will never have it.
Her final words were spoken with a heavy brow and intense eyes, before the picture finally fizzled out and Amare was left staring at the now-paler crystal before her.
"What...what is this?!" Amare exclaimed with disbelief with a heavily restrained voice lower to just above a loud whisper. She took firm hold of the damaged holocron tighter in her hands, "Some kind of...fake? Bested by a Rodian Jedi of all people. She was someone who didn't agree with Quellus...just like mother...just like..."
The telltale iconic sound of an ignited lightsaber was heard a short distance behind her. Amare released her touch on the crystal, grabbed hold of her shoto and turned to dart her eyes over her shoulder to look upon the one that managed to hide so completely from her Force-enhanced senses until the very last second.
“Don’t draw that weapon, intruder,” the newcomer’s young, but stern voice demanded as Amare felt the heat of his drawn blue plasma blade only an inch away from her neck, “I don’t know who you were foolish to think that the vile artefacts in here would not go unguarded.”
He angled the blade upwards slightly so he could see her face, but inadvertently allowed Amare a better view at his own face. He was a Togruta with a dull orange colouration and was indeed quite young, as his voice had indicated, but well-built and clearly well versed in pinning down an opponent, “I do not recognise your face,” he continued, seemingly processing the unusual scenario of someone ever entering the vault, “Are you of the order or are you an intruder?”
Amare shifted her gaze between the blinding glow of the blue-white plasma blade and the Jedi's handsome yet deadly serious face, then she removed her hand from her shoto as she slowly turned around to face him.
"I...am...well, let's face it, I'm an idiot!" she exclaimed in reply with a dopey smile on her face, raising her hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I'm so sorry! I keep getting into places I'm not supposed to. I don't train here, that's why you don't recognize me. Name's Coda. Uh, Padawan Coda. Master says I probably won't make Knighthood until I'm in my thirties. My curiosity gets me into a lot of trouble, you see. Please don't hurt me!"
If there was any hint of doubt in the Togruta's mind, he showed nothing but a growing grimace as he listened to Amare's flow of lies, "You won't make your knighthood at all, Padawan Coda," he growled, emphasising the name as if it were an insult, "Accessing this archive is grounds for expulsion from the order. You'll be lucky to even see the AgriCore after this."
He narrowed his eyes, "But I wonder, who is your master? If you truly are a padawan, then your teacher should face judgement too for training a padawan who would find herself drawn to the evil teachings in here. I'm sure it is no accident you found your way in here; there is something of the darkness in you I think."
Amare scoffed at the Togruta’s biased accusation.
“I could say the same of you,” she retorted with a wry grin and a slightly deeper and more confident tone, shedding her childish innocent pretense. “Feel your surroundings. This place… it’s insidious. It draws the curious in like a bug to a spider’s web. We're in the home of the great Reborn Jedi Order, and yet they still permit the rot of the past to fester deep within its hallowed halls. Why hide this beneath an illusion that only one of us could unlock? Why not take these evil things and throw them all into a pit of flames? You see, that’s really why I’m here. I am a seeker of the truth. Yes, I’m a Jedi, of a sort, but if you want a full confession from me, you’ll have to lower your weapon. Or did you fall asleep in class when they told you that testimony given under threat of violence is not admissible in court?”
Clearly not buying into Amare’s suggestion, the Jedi grabbed her wrist and said, “I do not need permission from a court to execute a dark Jedi. I am a Templar of the order and your clumsy apprentice act will not work on me.”
In a flash, Amare had ignited her own weapon and the Togruta pulled back just in time to prevent his arm being sliced off. He pointed his blade at her, now firmly in a combat stance, “I see you will not come willingly,” his voice becoming more monotone, as though he was echoing the voice of another, “You will die this day for the protection of the Light side and the Republic.”
TBC
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