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Realms: These Shattered Stars Logs

Chapter Three, Part Eight

It's early morning on the plains of Sedrak, and still a touch cool in the shade. The sun has well and truly risen by now, however, pale rays lighting up a small hillock a short distance away from the temporary camp of the nomadic natives. Lolling comfortably on the hill are Vakkal and Freyja. They'd hiked up the hill early, to admire the sunrise, and now they're just relaxing, in that comfortable fugue before having to start the work of the day. Vakkal is lying on his back, one arm behind his head and Freyja's head resting on his stomach, from where she's reclining next to him. She murmurs languidly, "Love sunrises... was a pretty one, hai?"

    Freyja glows in the light of sun or moon, a willowy, lean, golden skinned woman with an unruly mane of fiery gold hair and frost-blue eyes alight with calm happiness. She moves gracefully, long-limbed and supple as a dancer, wearing nothing but soft blue leather riding chaps, a decorative iridescent-blue band about the end of her very long, thin Padawan's braid, and a small furry dakang curled smugly about her shoulders.

Vakkal nods lazily. "Yes; yes, it was. Most any sunrise is pretty... 'cept the ones on Coruscant... didn't really like those. Looked kind of murky."

Freyja nods thoughtfully, absently brushing her shaggy, fiery golden bangs out of her eyes, "Hai, true. Too much crud in the air, I think." She's silent for a moment, just watching the sky... then, almost dreamily, she murmurs, "Vakkal... you've probably heard enough by now to have an idea of what it is we want to try with you and Kuras Fhazil... or... do you? Do you have any questions? ...or... do you think it's a wild dreamers' chase?"

He makes a soft, rumbling sound. "I... don't know, Freyja," he says quietly. "I... I think I know what you hope to achieve -- some sort of healing of the Force, something that might be able to end the war by making the Jedi and the Sith recognize that they are one and the same, of sorts -- and that you're risking a lot by doing it, not only with the Order but the Republic itself. But outside that, I don't know what you're planning."

He is quiet for a moment more. "I can tell you that it won't be easy," he adds. "The war, from all accounts, is going well for the Sith. The Empire's increased to twice its size in the past few years. Depending on just why Naga Sadow and Shen Ravos declared war on the Republic, there might be resistance to stopping the war at this point. But it might not be impossible. I don't know what kind of ideological grounds you plan on approaching the Moot with, though..."

Freyja considers for a moment... then rolls over to rest her chin on her arms, which are crossed comfortably on Vakkal's chest, so she's lying half across him. The sensory part of her brain quietly approves of the sudden increase of warmth -- it's still chilly out for a mostly nude Human! -and the pleasant sensation of fur brushing across her front. She grins interestedly down at Vakkal, "What's the Moot again? Their Council equivalent? Did Shen Ravos really declare war with the Shadow Serpent? Wouldn't that indicate they're closer friends than we'd originally thought? Are they? Do you know why they declared war?"

"They're... more like a combination of the Senate and the Council. They rule both the Sith Empire and the Sith Hierarchy. As for Shen Ravos and Naga Sadow, well, the Dark Lord wouldn't appoint just anyone to be one of his warlords. I don't know the details of their history together, but Ravos has been a longtime supporter of Sadow.

"As for 'why,' it's as I've said before: there were a number of reasons, the foremost amongst them -- as declared -- being economic and military adventurism on the part of the Republic into Sith space. There are probably less well-known reasons, ulterior motivations for the declaration of war. But I do not know what they are."

Freyja rubs one hand across the fur on Vakkal's chest and muses thoughtfully, "I wonder... what their history is, and what the real reasons are for their adventurism..." She smiles a little ruefully, "Don't know that I'd approach the Moot at all, really. It's been my experience that there are a small handful of folks that actually make things happen, and committee meetings are there mostly to make sure everyone else feels they contributed, and to get them on board, as it were, with the already-made decision." She grins, adding, "Why, hai, I am speaking from experience and observation!" She gets a thoughtful look again, "So... who would it be? Probably Sadow and Ravos, definitely... anyone else, I wonder?"

Vakkal smiles a little mirthlessly, lightly stroking Freyja's golden hair. "I wonder how your parents would react if they saw your hair this color? Mmph, a good point. No, the Moot is not the end-all of Sith politics. In practice, Sadow and his closest supporters dominate the Moot, and the Dark Lord has great leeway for undertaking action, though in some issues the others can band together and oppose policy decisions. But as to who those supporters are... sometimes it changes, and it is not generally known. There may be as few as half a dozen or as many as a score."

Freyja nods quietly, considering, "That... makes sense, actually. Alliances not based on friendship tend to shift like river sand, I know." She smiles, her eyes half closing as she appreciates the simple pleasure of touch, and the idle thought drifts through her head... why did she ever think touching with friends was bad? She considers Vakkal's question for a few moments, then chuckles softly, her chest resonating gently against Vakkal's, "I truly have not the faintest idea, Vakkal! It's true my mother always taught it was what was inside the person, not their outside looks, that was important. I suspect that's why one of her dearest friends was a Rodian, in fact... it simply wasn't important to either of them that they were different species."

"My father pays lip service to that too... but I notice he's always ragging on my mother about her weight. I... honestly don't know why she puts up with it -- she's a beautiful, brilliantly intelligent, and graceful lady as she is! So... I guess Father would be pleased I finally had something more closely approaching aristoi hair... even as he despaired of me ever having a proper, pale aristoi complexion!" She grins, rather obviously completely comfortable -- pleased, even -- with her current golden-skinned state.

Vakkal chuckles softly. "I do not blame you. The few albinos born to my people compensate by smearing themselves with mud when hunting, so as not to stand out." He nods quietly, continuing the light stroking. "I do not know how the Oath of Fire has changed things in the Sith government."

Freyja blinks thoughtfully, "Ooh, that's a good point, Vakkal... I'd not considered that. I wonder if that was the, er... the spine of the war coalition, or something?" She adds a little hopefully, "Be nice if it was... I know it takes time for changes like that to percolate through societies, but it sure would be encouraging to find, by the time we left Zhar -- assuming the training works for us, of course -- that the Sith might be willing to at least listen to us." She pauses, then says in faint startlement, "Wait, what am I saying?!"

Freyja laughs ruefully, "I am such the dreamer! Can you really imagine the Serpent of Shadows listening to us?" She grins, ducking her face behind her arms in faint embarrassment, "All right, so I'm silly... it's still a nice dream, even though I know it'll most likely take far, far longer and more effort than miraculously finding the Shad- er, Sadow, and miraculously convincing him to not only not squish us, but to actually take us seriously. Still..." her voice gets a determined tone, even though she's still a bit flushed from embarrassment, "-there's nothing wrong with having a good dream to work towards! -and I think convincing all the Force practitioners that they can get along peacefully and harmoniously is a worthwhile dream to work towards."

"Zhar? Is that where we're going, after we meet up with Fhazil?"

Freyja nods, brushing her cheek with lazy enjoyment against Vakkal's fur, "Hai. Hopefully we won't have trouble connecting with the right folks there." Then she corrects herself, "Well, first hopefully Kuras Taas will be willing to try this with us. It kind of depends on him really."

Vakkal nods quietly. "I've never heard of it before." He tilts his head curiously. "Why does it depend on Fhazil?"

Freyja says, "Well... because we need a Dark Force user, and he has to be willing to work with us. We can't force him to work with us... and even if we could, we wouldn't. We need a team... three folks who want to work together."

Vakkal blinks again, lifting his head up to look at Freyja and frowning a little. "I don't follow you- wait... maybe I do. You need three people to... to do this... healing? A Lightsider, a Darksider and..." he blinks. "A Greysider. Like Zero."

Freyja nods, then adds quietly, "I thought about asking you... but you already have a job -- one you've said you like, and one I'm very happy you have. It would be rude, and remiss of me, to ask you to take on a potentially conflicting new job as well."

Vakkal nods a little, still digesting this information. "I... I think I see. And I am honored that you considered that; thank you."

Vakkal can feel Freyja smile quietly as she rests her cheek against the warm fur on his chest, "How could I not have, and been a responsible lady?" Her tone is both calm and matter-of-fact... then she takes a moment and explains a bit more to Vakkal what a triat is. She concludes with, "So we feel -- all three of us, including Master Roakkana -- that this may be both the best thing for the Force itself... and the best means to end the war with something approaching a win-win situation for us all. Uhm... so I was wondering what you thought, since you should have an option to step out gracefully, if you wanted? I don't want either you or Kuras Taas to feel at all coerced in this."

Vakkal nods quietly. "I think I understand." He considers, then chuckles quietly. "Well. I don't know if that'll mean Fhazil must give up his dream of ruling a world, but while I can't speak for him, I think he'd be intrigued by the challenge."

Freyja grins cheerfully, "I hope so! And if he can help make some world's people happier and better citizens, then more power to him, I think, in regards to ruling a world."


Not long after the Jedi are shown the crater where the worms first crash-landed, Freyja is told by the matron who the contact for arms shipments is. She notes, however, that she was allowed to inform Freyja of this only if the clans are assured some sort of supply of rifles and ammunition -- the weapons are far too useful on the plains and veldt to simply cast aside; no matter that the Sedraki consider them to be contraband.

The Sedraki government is understandably wary at first of permitting weapons shipments to the nomads -- ten years is not all that long a time, and some scars have not healed well. With some convincing -- and some research which shows that the manufacturer of slugthrowers not unlike those in possession by the nomads is quite eager to sell to this new market, however niche and miniscule -- the government agrees to start with limited rifle and ammunition sales to the nomads, and see what happens from there.

It is left understood but unsaid that if the government fails to follow through, there is little doubt that one of the Tongs will gladly take up the slack. Speaking of whom, the contact Freyja was given was in a remote community in Shenlongzhou, the Shenlong prefecture. This contact was followed back to the Black Wind Tong in the city of Shenlong itself.

Freyja is tremendously pleased, both that the natives gave her the ammunition (no pun intended) to lean on the government to fulfill their implicit obligation to maintain the necessary trade in weapons -- but legitimately this time -- and that the Human government of Sedrak recognizes this responsibility, due to the natives' attempting to assist them in controlling the Tongs.

Freyja also takes some time to visit Karrac, both to thank him for being so helpful, and hopefully to reassure him a bit. She's still a bit startled to realize that both Khar Velos men were sure they were, in effect, dead meat once they were in the hands of the Jedi. It worries her a bit... was that belief due to Sith propaganda, or experience with the Sith? She hopes the former...

Karrac is doing well; somehow, Dakkan convinced Knight-Captain Baas to remand the Khar Velos native to his care, though the Watchers are apparently eager to at least ask the young canid some questions. Dakkan assures Freyja it's unlikely in the extreme that, no offense to Karrac, the Watchers would consider him important enough to interrogate for an extended period of time, or take him anywhere for said interrogation. Freyja is quite pleased again, and thanks the Paladin privately for his kindness.

Karrac himself is somewhat more relaxed, and seems much more at ease. Jedi Masters seem to have this uncanny ability to becalm people, no matter how fearsome they might initially be. If not one-hundred-percent happy, Karrac is at least calmer and more comfortable with things; he does not shy away from Vakkal, and looks pleased to see Freyja.

Freyja makes a mental note -- she simply must learn that calming effect! -especially if she's going to be around Sith much... which she probably will be. She is quite happy to see Karrac looking so much better, and thanks him for his aid... the worms are safe now, and going to a nice new home, because he was so helpful. She also cheerfully congratulates Karrac on getting remanded to Paladin Dakkan's care... and curiously asks him what he intends to do next? Is he more interested in continuing Force training as a Grey, or does he feel most comfortable with Dark Force usage?

Karrac shakes his head, "I don't know enough yet, Padawan Freyja. I have to learn more before I can make that kind of decision. Even if I won't be locked into it, I want to be cautious before I begin following any other tradition."

Freyja nods thoughtfully, "Probably wise, Karrac." She grins, touching his shoulder lightly, "That's all right... you've got time now with Paladin Dakkan, hai?"


The two weeks pass relatively quickly, as Freyja and Zero spend most of their days meditating and preparing the Adegan crystals for their use in their lightsabers. Roakkana notes they do not have to be installed right away, so this is as good a chance as any to use them. The crystals will need to be finished and machined in a workshop, but that will not affect them being imbued with the twos' Force awareness.

After two weeks a call over the comlink arrives for the four. Diath informs them that the knight errant who can speak with animals has arrived at last. Freyja carefully passes on the correct information on how to handle the worms to the Jedi that can speak with animals, then cheerfully thanks them and heads on with her friends to Commenor.

On the day of their departure, the four are seen off at the Qigong Palace landing pad by the company of Jedi, Paladin Dakkan and Karrac, and Zero's parents. Baas notes their company will be departing shortly after the worms finally leave, after completing their study of Tavra Soon's notes. They're also trying to figure out what happened to Tavra Soon.

Akikou and Wulong are perhaps a little more emotional, certainly more than Freyja's parents when she left Balmorra, though they try to remain dignified. They entreat Zero to return for another visit soon, and Wulong insists that Zero take with him a datapad filled with some of his better recipes. "Learn to cook some of these, and you'll make a fine catch for any special woman," he says with a grin and a wink -- and a nudge in his ribs from an amused Akikou, who puts a bundle of meat rolls of various flavors and styles -- nerf, pourk, and soy -- in Zero's hands. Jiaohua cheerfully meefs from his new perch on Akikou's shoulder, where he's nestled snugly into her hair, with his fur puffed out against the wind chill of the landing platform.

Dakkan has also announced that he will be departing shortly after, though as a paladin he goes where the Force takes him, and Karrac will be going with him.

At the comment about trying to find out what happened to Tavra Soon, Freyja simply remains calmly dispassionate. She giggles quietly behind her hand at Wulong's parting gift; she thinks it's lovely how Zero's parents show they care. She also thanks Paladin Dakkan again, and cheerfully wishes Karrac good luck. Zero grins and hugs his father and his mother. "I'm coming back," he says, "Don't worry. I'll come back a Watchman, you wait." He grins.

Wulong laughs loudly, and claps his hand on Zero's shoulder. "That's the spirit! We need a good Watchman around here, that'll make interesting things keep happening!"

Freyja looks curious, "What's a Watchman?" She skritchies the little dakang a bit wistfully, then smiles, "Be good now. No stealing other folks' things, hai?"

    Freyja glows in the light of sun or moon; a willowy, long legged, golden skinned woman with an unruly mane of fiery gold hair; frost-blue eyes alight with serene happiness; and the strong, supple musculature of an athlete. An iridescent-blue band gleams at the end of her very long, thin Padawan's braid, swaying in constant motion. She moves as lithely as a dancer, pragmatic in well-fitting breeches and a laden utility belt, well-cared-for leather boots, a cropped athlete's top, and sturdy armored gloves.

Jiaohua meef!s enthusiastically and his tail-tip twitches... which does nothing to indicate he'll comply with Freyja's admonition. Akikou smiles. "We'll take good care of him, don't worry, Freyja."

Zero grins. "Interesting times, just like the curse, ah, old man? Our whole house must be stricken." He laughs. "I'll be seeing you soon."

    Standing straight and wiry, this is a pale-skinned Human, maybe in his early twenties, with a strong though not bulky build. His left cheek is marred by a long, straight scar that crosses his lips just alongside his nose, and his hair is a mass of short, choppy white spikes, swept back from his forehead. His features are sharp, his expression calm, although his wide, almond-shaped eyes hold back something akin to wry amusement in their violet irises. He wears a pair of soft, loose black pants, cut just a little wide for his frame and belted close at the waist, and a black jacket with a close Mandarin collar above, over a close-fitting white shirt. In the sash tied around his waist is stuck a long-handled lightsaber, three-pronged at the hilt. A pair of soft-soled black shoes muffles his steps. His bearing is collected, his posture easy, loose, and the hint of a smile on the corner of his lips softens the incongruous lines of the scar.

Diath provides, "A old Jedi tradition. Some worlds request a Jedi be permanently stationed on-planet, as a guardian and also as a direct liaison with the Order. Sedrak's government has talked off and on about requesting one, but the events of the past few weeks might make them seriously consider it."

Freyja says, "Ah!" She smiles, "I understand, thank you, Jedi Diath." She silently hopes Zero doesn't actually do that, considering what they want to try with the Silver Path... then grins quietly to herself, remembering Jedi Diath's funny reaction at the nomad camp... almost as if he'd expected her to be upset. It'd been interesting... a first for her. She smiles at Akikou and politely thanks her and Wulong for their courtesy in welcoming her to their house.

With that, and a number of good-byes, the shuttle takes off to dock at Ark Nova, where passage has been booked aboard the light freighter Egregious Fortunes of Trade.


The trip to Commenor takes two weeks. Commenor is one of the major worlds of the Balmorra Sector, with a high population, a high development quotient, but a relatively low agricultural level; most of the foodstuffs are brought in from some of the small outlying colonies a few parsecs away. Commenor's main industry is facilitating trade; its position puts it on many of the prime trading routes along the Core, Colonial, and Mid Rim hyperlanes, and it has been a major trade hub for several thousand years. With the Corellian Main leading right through Commenor, much of the wealth of Balmorra Sector got its start from its proximity to Commenor. The world also serves as the main transshipment point for droid shipments from Balmorra -- except in the case of special deliveries, if it's shipped from Balmorra, it goes through Commenor. In many ways, cosmopolitan and species-diverse Commenor truly deserves its epithet of "Gateway to Balmorra Sector."

It also richly deserves its reputation as being something of a dive.

Despite the vast amounts of wealth passing through its warehouses, Commenor has a relatively low employment rate, and a recurring refugee problem. Many people who stow away or work their way on freighters end up getting let off on Commenor, simply because so much tonnage passes through the system. Also, in the past, refugee and exile transports have typically followed the major hyperlanes, and so Commenor's population swelled in this manner as well. The high unemployment rate -- really, the lack of a great many steady jobs -- makes for a large number of impoverished inhabitants. For this reason some critics have called Commenor the Republic in microcosm: towers in which the movers and shakers, the brokers and industrialists, live and work and play; rising above slums and ghettos which, while not the worst in the Republic (in fact the standard of living on Commenor, even discounting the wealthy elite, is some of the highest in the sector, with an active if beleaguered welfare system) demonstrate the disparity in wealth.

The Egregious Fortunes of Trade lands at Murno Down, the primary spaceport city on Commenor, dropping off its four passengers with little fanfare. The skies are not nearly as crowded as they are on Coruscant, but neither is the place as genuinely, socially warm as Sedrak was.

Freyja looks around, then says curiously, "You know... the Empire attacking Balmorra would be really, really painful. If I wanted to conquer Balmorra... I'd conquer Commenor. It's a trade choke-hold." She pauses, then blinks, "That... was an odd thought..." She pauses, then says slowly, "The populace would love a new government that promised them more..." She blinks again, then shakes her head sharply. "Uh... right. So... what first? Checking in with the local Jedi? Do we want to try making our lightsabers first? How much time until we have our appointment?" She sighs quietly, rubbing one bare shoulder. She misses Jiaohua riding there.

Vakkal nods idly as he looks around. "Hai," he says. "Knowing that, it's easy to see that the Sith would stage an initial attack at Balmorra, the sector capitol; then use that to draw away Commenor's defenses and strike here. Then the second line forces move up and the Republic forces are between hammer and anvil." He blinks, looking to Freyja. "You're right; for you that is an odd thought..."

Freyja gives Vakkal a faintly sheepish look, "Uh... sorry...?"

Zero says, "I'd like to work on the sabers a bit, myself."

Roakkana smiles, "First, I recommend we find lodgings. There is a hostel associated with the monastery on the edges of the city."

Zero makes a face. "A hostel on Commenor. Sah, now this dredges up some memories."

Roakkana says wryly, "Jedi hostels aren't quite that bad, Zero. Honest."

Zero grins lopsidedly, "Here or anywhere, if it's bad, Master, I've probably slept in worse."

Freyja nods, "Well, let's get to the hostel and settle. We can try the lightsabers then, hai? -and regardless of how they turn out, we can maybe visit Jedi Kuuna too. That'd be nice -- to see she's all right."

Roakkana, who has been here before, unerringly takes the three to the hostel. On the edges of the city, it is altogether more pleasant, with much more greenery -- or, rather, blue-greenery; part of what makes Commenor have to import so much food is the oddball amino acids in the local flora and fauna. An indicator of this is a form of chlorophyll, which is inimically poisonous to about half the species resident in this corner of the galaxy -- thus the blue-green plants.

The monastery is situated atop a high hill, with the hostel itself and a number of other buildings vaguely related to the industry of supporting the local Jedi clustered around the city-side base of the hill. The monastery is much older than the one on Marnaas, and shows it. The architecture is several thousand years old, and hasn't been touched or altered in all that time. Various riots of ivy clamber up the stone walls, hiding the pale gray stones beneath from sight. The roofs and towers to the monastery are almost the only indication that there is actually a building there.

The hostel itself is of more modern construction, no more than five hundred years old and looking not a day over fifty; well-kept, if spartan and very plain. The four are welcomed and ushered to a simple quad of rooms: four sleeping rooms surrounding a central room. Meals are served six times a day in the communal hall, the 'freshers are down this hall and to the left, the laundry is next door to the 'freshers, the terminals are set up to accept your entries and access the Temple message drops, and if you need anything else contact the front desk and ask for Niath in the daytime or Mor'thogha at night. Enjoy your stay!

And with that, they are left alone.

Freyja stretches her arms lazily over her head, enjoying the move of musculature under her skin. She sighs faintly again... she misses both Jiaohua on her shoulders, and the freedom of movement she'd had on Sedrak around the natives -- clothing, however light and/or well-designed, still restricts somewhat. She paces silently from room to room, then stands in the doorway of the second biggest room, "May I have this one? It's got the second-biggest bed... and I'd very much like to continue dog-piling at night with any of you that'd enjoy it."

Zero says, "Any room is fine with me, Freyja. I might keep some late hours, though; you know me and the equipment, once I get going on something..."

Freyja smiles, "Well, as long as you work in your room, and come quietly into this room if it's late, I don't mind." At the lack of demurring from the Wookie or Vakkal, she turns and tosses her small duffel on the bed, calling over her shoulder, "Thanks, guys."

Roakkana nods, "I've not a problem with that at all, child. I-" It seems to be some sort of curse; the door announcer chimes.

Freyja is feeling far more self-assured and calm than she has in ages. It might perhaps have something to do with the whole month of meditation she's just experienced... it feels, to her, like all the unsorted thoughts and speculations and left-over-dreameries have all settled neatly into place in her mind. She wonders with peaceful interest what other odd thoughts will come bubbling up... then looks up at the door, "Who is it?"

Roakkana, not knowing the plague of doorbells which harassed Freyja and Zero on Coruscant a few months before, keys open the door. A young Padawan from the monastery, of some unknown species and carrying a box, is looking up from a datapad. "Oh! There is someone here! How utterly odd... I beg your pardon." He bows. "The Force be with you, Jedi. Padawan Naat Vickol of Bluedeep. I... that is, the monastery was instructed to deliver a package to this room at this date and time."

Freyja blinks curiously, straightening and moving lean gracefully against the door of her little room, one hand resting on the doorjamb. Zero deadpans, "If it's another bomb, tell them we already donated at the temple." Freyja grins at Zero, then wonders thoughtfully if the first gifting has arrived for Fafnir yet... and if he liked it. She hopes so.

Naat gives a bit of a start. "Ah... a... that is... another bomb?" He looks at the package with a lot more caution. "I... don't think it is... that is, there's nothing to say... that it's a... bomb..." he finishes rather lamely.

Freyja grins again at the confused Padawan, moving forward to take the box from him, "He's teasing you, Padawan. Do we have to sign or anything?" She interestedly studies the box as she waits for the answer.

The Padawan looks much relieved. "Oh, good. Yes, please, if you'd sign this datapad... it was very odd, the package arrived four weeks ago, with strict instructions to not deliver it here until this hour on this date."

Freyja blinks at the Padawan, then gives the box a slightly more wary look, "At this exact hour and date?" She checks the box carefully for any suspicious markings, and scans it again with the Force, "I... wonder why..."

Zero arches a skeptical eyebrow. "You're sure it's not a bomb."

Freyja murmurs, "Not yet, neh..." as she examines it. The box is simply that: a plain duraplast box, solidly built, with a modern postal seal set on it -- not a lock per se, but it does show the box has been sealed since it was sent. There is a standard computer-coded shipping tag on it. Freyja frowns thoughtfully, holding the box out in both hands as she regards it suspiciously. "Well... I can't tell anything odd about it..." Curiosity gets the better of her and she grins, "Cool! Who's it from, Padawan Naat?"

"Uhm... the sender wasn't specified. The world of origin is Ossus."

Zero says, "Ossus."

Freyja blinks... then turns to stare in astonishment at the Padawan, "Ossus?! Uhm... are you su- neh, wait... farseeing, of course." She shakes her head in fascination, then slides a fingernail under the seal to break it. A moment to peel it back... then she unlatches the box, opening it with careful fascination. Her murmur is abstracted, "Wonder who's been looking... and why...?"

The Padawan ers, then says, "We were also told that we couldn't be present when it was opened," as he edges towards the door.

Zero smirks, "Turnabout's fair play."

Freyja looks up, wrinkling her nose amusedly at Zero, "Tease!" then looking back at the box as she opens it.

Roakkana nods to the Padawan, mildly amused. "Of course, Padawan. Go, and may the Force be with you." The Padawan nods, and a moment later the door slides shut.

Inside the duraplast casing is... a wooden box. The wood is of a golden hue with dark brown grain. The box itself is simple but slightly decorative, the beveled edges having just enough roughness to absolutely scream "hand-made." The hinges appear to be of a low-grade but still strong form of Echal steel, rather than any more modern alloy. The symbol burned or branded into the lid of the box is unknown to either Freyja or Zero: a Bendu roundel with eight ancient, geomantic symbols surrounding it; the whole surrounded by a snake eating its tail, forming a circle.

Freyja blinks, then ooohs softly, "How pretty!" She moves to sit on the small couch, so everyone can see, and lifts the wooden box out of the postal carrier box. As she lightly traces the design branded into the box with one slender golden finger, she murmurs, "What does this mean, Master Roakkana? Do you know? I'm assuming it's from the far-seeing group on Ossus, hai?" She smiles, "Oh, look... Iormungander. I always thought he was more complex than he was ever given credit for..."

Zero's eyebrows rise. "Well, high marks for style, at least." Freyja grins at Zero, then looks hopefully at the Wookie.

Roakkana shakes his head, his brow furrowed. "I... honestly, child, for once I am at a loss. I do not know this symbol, though it has the Bendu wheel upon it. You may be correct as to its origins, however."

Freyja grins a bit excitedly, "Well, let's record the symbols so we can research them later, hai?" She pulls out her datapad and carefully records the box, then sets it down so it can continue. Happily she says, "If the Jedi protecting the future-seeing Jedi are calling themselves Serpent's Song, then maybe Iormungander is the symbol of the future-seeing Jedi?" As she speaks, she fiddles with the box, figuring out how to open it... which she does so slowly and respectfully. It would not surprise her to learn this box was far, far older than her.

Zero sits down and folds his arms. "Hm... wonder what they'd have to send us?"

Freyja looks up thoughtfully at Zero, "Something of Valsha's, maybe? -or the Red General's, for her?" She considers that... then shudders slightly, "Hope not -- for Valsha's sake..."

The top of the box cover is hinged, with a simple latch at the front. The hinges are absolutely silent as they open, despite their seeming age. Within, the box is lined by simple, undyed muslin, which also looks old despite its excellent condition. At the very top, resting upon a slip of similar muslin that covers whatever else is in the box... is a pale-violet-hued parchment scroll. That, at least, looks of more modern make, crisp and new and clean and unblemished.

Freyja hesitates, then very carefully takes out the pretty-colored parchment scroll. She looks at it a bit dubiously... then up at Master Roakkana, "Shouldn't you open this, since you're the Master?"

Roakkana considers for a moment, the bends over, taking up the scroll and unrolling it upon the bed. "Perhaps," he says, "-but I have a feeling it was meant for all of us. Or perhaps more directly, you two..."

Freyja watches with great interest, still holding the box in her lap. She's feeling weirdly, warily cautious at this point -- but suspects whomever sent this knew curiosity would eventually get the better of her. "What does it say? Anything?"

TO YOU WHO RECEIVE THIS, GREETINGS

Grey dawn rises
Night and Day rise up against each other
Twilight becomes a battlefield
Our Song has much for those who will listen
A single measure approaches which the chorus stumbles upon
Singers of darkness and singers of light raise their voices to be heard
Cacophony the Song becomes
What course the Song takes...
Only a few singers may decide

Use this gift
Use it wisely
You will know

Heal the Song

THE OPHIDIAN CANTICLE OF THE JEDI ORDER

Zero says, "Another riddle. Ask me if this surprises me."

Freyja blinks... then whispers softly, her frost blue eyes distant, "They know..." She takes a deep breath, then gently pulls aside the muslin cloth in the box to reveal what's inside.

Moving the cloth reveals another symbol burned or branded into the back wall of the box. This one is far more esoteric, not even including the Bendu wheel, but having the vaguest similarity to a sword superimposed over a sun.

Underneath the muslin slip are what look like four distinctive metallic cylinders, not quite as baroque as some that were in the Academy's image-records, but elaborate enough, with faint etchings of runes in the anisotropic metal and vertical quillions that frame the mouth of the cylinders. One of the casings has gilt trim; two others have silver trim; the last has ebon trim. The grips are unwrapped, and there are no interior workings. All three are at first glance identical, but then it can be seen that the two with silver trim are lighter, slightly thinner, and have an elegant, complex-looking locking mechanism at their bases... just below a pommel, shared by all four of the cylinders save but one of the silver-trimmed ones, that holds a small, faintly luminescent stone or crystal cell that is set in a fitting made of an alloy blend resembling hematite and platinum. The cylinders are quite clearly the casings to some form of lightsaber.

Zero's jaw drops. Freyja draws her breath in slowly... then carefully and gently lays the handles out where everyone can see them. "Gold for Light... silver for the Gray -- Grays? ...and... here, ebony for the Dark." Then... she just sits for a moment, still stunned.

Zero murmurs, "These... must cost a fortune..."

Freyja's thoughts are on another track, "Two... grays...? -and... they're different...?" She looks up puzzledly at Vakkal... then back at the lightsaber handles. Finally she gently picks up the gilt one, just holding it in her hands and trying to get a feel for it.

Roakkana is, for a rare moment, utterly speechless. After a long pause he finally quietly asks, "I wonder how much they know."

Zero reaches out hesitantly, then stops. "I'm... almost afraid to pick it up. I'm afraid I'll break it."

Freyja looks up to smile a bit ruefully at Zero, "I don't think so. They wouldn't send us fragile toys. Here." She carefully holds out the pommeled silver handle to Zero.

Zero picks up the handle carefully. He studies it for a moment, then pauses... curiously, he examines the pommel of the one he's holding. "This locks," he says, half to himself. Freyja continues to absorbedly study the one she's holding. Zero reaches out carefully and picks up the crystal-studded counterpart. "They knew what I was doing. Gods below..." He fits them together and, with a cunning mechanism, they snap together. He murmurs, "I'll be damned."

The casings feel... faintly, oddly warm to the touch -- at least the ones with the crystal pommel. On close examination, the interiors of all four casings are lined with the delicate tracery of crystalline lattice, which seems to touch (from within) upon the pommel-stone. As Zero locks the two halves of the double-bladed saber casing together, both halves -- the one with and the one without the hilt-stone -- feel... warm.

They are not perfectly fitted for particular hands, but the metal itself seems to start to conform. The technology (a kind of molding memory-metal) is not unknown -- in fact it's often found in high-quality blaster grips. But this seems... different somehow, a technology that is both thousands of years old, yet also very much unknown. After a few moments of the as-yet unwrapped grips feeling like they're moving subtly under the grasp of the Padawans, the odd feeling stops... and the sabers seem as if perfectly molded to the hand.

Beneath the casings is another slip of parchment, this one unrolled. It reads in simple Aurabesh: "For the Triat. A gift to aid you. The Awatea sabers of light. Make them well. Use them wisely."

Freyja murmurs bemusedly, "What's Awatea, Master Roakkana?" as she continues to examine the handle she's holding. She almost drops it as she realizes it's moving to conform... then studies it with shocked fascination as it continues... and until it stops.

Zero stares, eyes narrowed. "Freyja, can you feel this?"

Freyja blinks, not looking away from the handle, "Go- uhh..." then just nods. She finally takes a long, slow breath and looks up, saying simply, "It's done. I don't know exactly what we have here... but it fits me now."

Zero holds his weapon (or what will become his weapon) in both hands, fingers wrapped around just behind the guard prongs. "This... is amazing. I've never touched anything like this. The technology, it has to be something the Republic's never seen..." He trails off, then wonders aloud, "Or has forgotten about?"

Roakkana blinks. "Awatea? I... if memory serves me, 'awatea' is from a dead language used by an ancient Corellian Force tradition which was itself gone by the time the Republic was formed. It has... several meanings. The tradition used it as 'Dawn.' Or 'dusk.' Both. Neither, at the same time."

Freyja nods slowly, somehow unsurprised, "I... think I understand. So... a forgotten Force sect made these lightsaber handles. Forgotten... like the Silver Path? -or truly gone, I wonder?" She lays the handle in her lap, then gently runs her slender fingers along it. She pauses... then looks up again, "We need to get our crystals worked. I think we're being told it's time we had lightsabers of our own, hai?"

Roakkana shakes his head. "Truly gone, child. I looked for them. They disappeared in the Corellian pre-space flight period, and never appeared in the Syncretic Assembly." He considers for a moment, then nods, "I... think so, as well, yes." He squints a little at the pommels. "I have never seen pommels quite like those, on either lightsabers or swords."

Freyja nods at Master Roakkana's comment, then tilts her head to regard the pommel, "Nor have I, Master." She touches it lightly, curiously, scanning the handle with the Force.

Zero says, "It's beautiful. I'm almost ashamed to put the matrices in these... I feel like the items I've found aren't good enough for this weapon."

The hilt-jewel actually reacts to Freyja's touch. It is... not bright, not in the way that a living, sentient being is -- certainly not anything approaching the beacon of Force-awareness. But not in the way a simple phosphorescent crystal or a bit of bioluminescent biomass would be; it has a not insignificant presence in the Force itself. And... it remembers.

It is only the most fleeting of impressions that Freyja gets as she touches the stone with the Force, but it is enough. There is a history behind them; they are not newly made. They have known many casings, touched many components within, touched many wielders without. It is over in a moment, but when that moment passes there is the unmistakable impression of what these are, as cryptic as it might be: "NGA TORU AWATEA-HOARI. The Three."

Roakkana blinks; what just happened was almost palatable to any with eyes awakened to the Force in the room. A brief glimmer of light in the Force from the hilt -- from each of the three crystals, in fact. "Freyja, child... what... what happened?"

Freyja looks up, blinking. "Huh?"

Zero blinks and almost drops his weapon; "What was that?"

Freyja looks back at the crystal puzzledly, "Do you have a Name I should be calling you?" The crystal makes no reply. It's hard to tell. Is the crystal -- are all three of the crystals glowing a little brighter?

Zero looks down at the crystal in his own weapon. "I knew these weren't part of the emitter matrix... gods above... are you alive?"

Freyja blinks again, realizing she's been asked a question, "Uh... it remembered. It shared its memories with me, Master. It said, uhm..." She cautiously forms the syllables, "Naga toru awatea-hoary... er, I think... the Three." She adds quietly, "There've been lots of us. Er, them. Threes, I mean," as she closes her hand quietly around the crystal and thinks her question to it again, within the Force.

Zero very hesitantly reaches to touch the crystal in his weapon... I know it's foolish, it's not going to bite me... but just what are you, then?

The crystals make no reply to the touches. They simply are; their presence is simply there. It is not the touch of anything sapient. What was said was perhaps... Memory. Freyja smiles slowly, releasing the crystal. Odd...

Zero frowns. "I don't understand. Why us? What would a prophet mean to say, giving these to us? These... memories."

Freyja takes a deep breath and looks up with a faint smile, "Well... in one way this is a very good thing, hai? Someone or someones within the Jedi Order know what we're contemplating... and approves. Actively so, in fact." She fumbles in one of her pouches for the piece of Sedraki crystal she's been working on for the last month... then holds it and the handle up thoughtfully, "Well... I don't know, Zero, about what you said before. It's... what we have. I guess we'll just have to make it worthy, you know?"

Zero says, "Or is it just that they want us to know just how far off the end we're going by doing this. We're really bucking history now." He pauses, then adds, "I don't think it will be hard to cut our crystals. I'll need a toolkit with a really fine work laser, but these crystals are so close to perfect that all we'd be doing is... practically cosmetic."

Freyja adds quietly, "I think they're saying we need to get cracking... the Force needs us." She studies the crystal... then curiously tries to gently set it within the handle. Just how peculiar and wondrous is this thing? There is no reaction from either the pommel-jewel or the lattice within to the touch of the Adegan crystal.

Zero mms. "Master, I'm going to go into town and find some tools that are sophisticated enough for us. I want to complete my weapon... I think it's time. It deserves a blade."

Roakkana nods slowly. "Yes... yes, of course, Zero. I will... go through my notes, make some discrete inquiries, and see if I can... discover anything about these... remarkable... erm, things."

Freyja nods slowly, looking up at Zero as she settles the crystal back into her pouch, "I think so too. It's time... I wish I knew exactly what time it was, though."

Zero smiles lopsidedly, "Sadly, laser cutters fine enough to do what we want aren't part of my security kit. I've got some cutters, but they're..." He gestures vaguely, looking for the words. "Not for this. It'd be like swatting a stingfly with a bowcaster."

Roakkana regains enough composure to say wryly to Zero, "I've swatted stingflies with a bowcaster before..." He breaks into a grin. "Not that that is recommended. I was young and foolishly pushing what I knew in the Force."

Zero grins. "If anyone could, Master... heh. I'll go into town and find a jeweler. A couple of micro-fine cutters and a waldo vise should be everything we need." He adds, "I have some ideas about how we should go about this, too, Freyja."

Freyja looks up a bit bemusedly, "Uhm? Like what?"

Zero says, "Well... from studying this process back at the Temple, I've seen a few basic designs in the cut and finish of the gems that seem common to most sabers. As far as I can tell, there are a few basic functional forms. Beyond that, how you cut the crystal is... well, it's between you and your saber, so to speak. It seems to be guided by the Force and the maker's sense of expression."

Freyja nods a bit puzzledly, watching Zero. Zero says, "I think the best way to begin this process for ourselves... is for me to show you the operation of the tools, and then let you feel it out. I know that I want to spend a few hours with my crystal before I make the attempt. What do you think?"

Freyja nods again, "Hai, please." She pauses, then adds a bit wryly, "I hope the Force does a lot of guiding..."

Zero nods. "All right. I'll be back in an hour at most."

Freyja nods slowly again, still mentally digesting this amazing occurrence. She looks at the ebony casing almost warily... then gently sets it back into the box, replacing the muslin cloth over it and carefully closing the box. "Three more weeks... then you'll have someone too." She pauses... then murmurs very quietly, "I hope..."

Zero for his part is still letting it roll over him; but as always he is rolling with the blow, and in this case the current is carrying him into a frenzy of activity. Freyja simply sits and meditates, the handle in her lap, while Zero's gone. She's a bit shaken, and wants to find her core again... and where this event lies, in relation to herself and her friends.

Zero returns before long with the necessary equipment. "Found it," he says, reentering the suite and sitting down at the low center table. "A waldo-vise, and four cutters fine enough to disassemble that stingfly with." He places the tools on the table, one next to the other. "Here, Freyja... sit down and I'll show you how this works." Freyja opens her eyes slowly and nods, watching intently. She doesn't know how to use these tools, so she figures she'd better learn quickly.

Zero patiently explains the operation of each tool. It's fairly simple; each laser cutter is a bit finer than the last, and they're light and easy enough to work with. Zero offers this metaphor, "It's like drawing in space. With work this fine you don't cut big pieces off; you shape it. What we're doing is altering, not reducing." The waldo-vise is a cunning little piece of work; it can hold the work at any angle and keep it perfectly still. "The basic functional forms are simple enough... lozenge, sphere, pyramid, ovoid, diamond..." The lecture goes on for some time, and Zero does his best to patiently stop and retrace things he takes too quickly; it's obvious from his animation that he has been turning this data over in his mind for a long time.

Freyja nods silently, listening intently, her frost-blue eyes intense as she absorbs the information as well as she can. Zero finally says quietly, "Um, if you guys don't mind, I'll let you think about this for a while, and I'm going to start the cuts for my blade."

Roakkana nods quietly, rising from the terminal as Zero arrives. "I have done some reading on... on these. They were very rare, in the first few centuries after -- and, I should note, for a century before -- the Order adopted the lightsaber as its symbol and weapon of choice. They are not known by any name collectively; rather each one or each group made by a master smith was named. Very often, they were the pinnacle of a maker's-maker's work, and would be named after the maker."

"These are weapons and symbols of legend. They bond with the wielder in some way through the Force, and grow with them, enhancing the wielder's abilities and giving them new ones, sometimes dramatically. Each was unique. They were not in and of themselves sentient, but the pommel-jewels possessed a sort of quasi-life. The pommels hold what were known as quies-ovo cells." He pauses. "In some cases... the pommel-jewel was known to also be a minor holocron." He continues, "It seems that the greatness of the sabers in question laid not so much in the components and the Adegan crystals, but rather in the lattice within and the jewel itself." The Wookie smiles a little. "It seems traditionally these weapons have used nothing but pure, real Adegan crystals. The Force does indeed seem to be with you, in that.

"These weapons became lost to history, as often happens with material things. None have been made in almost ten thousand years, and there are none even in any museum. Perhaps the Academy has a few somewhere in their corridors. Surely the Archives have records of them, and the fates of some of them. But some of the tales which rose around them linger on. Very often, when a tale speaks of a Jedi with a "sword of the stars' wrath" or a "lightsaber that burned with exceptional light," then the tales would be referring to... lightsabers such as these."

Roakkana pauses, then sits down quietly. "I cannot fathom why the Ophidian Canticle sent you these, except that what they have farseen has told them you would need them."

Freyja is still silent, absorbing information. She simply nods once to Zero... then, a moment later, to Master Roakkana also. Zero blinks, and drops one of the cutters. It rolls across the table toward Freyja. "You mean... they're... alive?" Freyja puts out a hand to gently catch and stop the tool, without looking away from Master Roakkana. Zero says, "On the one hand, I feel indebted to them. On the other hand, my Master... I wonder what they see us coming against, that they felt the need to send us three blades of legend."

Roakkana shakes his head. "No, at least, not in that sense." He looks down upon one of the casings. "The quies-ovo cell is... well, the crystalline equivalent of a single-celled organism. It takes in energy, maintains itself with it, and emits the light you see. With that cycle of pseudo-life, it has a presence in the Force. And it is with that presence that a bond can develop between the wielder and the saber."

Freyja leans to set the cutter gently down next to Zero. She's still moving with that careful, deliberate manner that says she's thinking extremely hard about something else. Finally she says slowly, "Maybe it's more that they're making sure we have the best tools to hand, to... to draw in the Force. Not cut big pieces off... shaping it."

Zero says, "Maybe so, Freyja."

Freyja smiles at Zero, nodding at the cutter, "Start, my friend. I will meditate within the Force for you, and try to help in that way."

Zero says, "Master... I'd like to start the cuts for my blade. Is that all right? I need a few more hours with the gem before I can place them with confidence."

Roakkana nods to Zero. "Of course, Zero, if you feel confident enough to do so." He adds to Zero's previous question, "I do not have an answer to that, Zero. There are many tales of sabers such as these. What they are capable of is varied -- many seemed to not only be capable of being fearsome physical weapons, but also had impressive abilities of less martial nature."

He thinks for a moment. "There was one tale that spoke of one such as these being used by its wielder to put a revenant to final rest. It was not the blade alone which did it... but masters had apparently confronted this revenant and had failed. The paladin who bore... what was it... the saber known as 'Muramura,' had wielded it for years, and it had grown with him as he grew in the Force. With Muramura and a disciplined will, he defeated the revenant."

"Others have found that their blades offered other uses. The Jedi bard Katashan of Alderaan could cast about her the light of the Force, much as you did on Sedrak, Freyja. After a time of wielding the saber Kanikanitia, when darkness threatened a land -- the tale went into no other specifics, though it seems like it was some sort of blight -- and a desperate event took place, she found that with Kanikanitia she could cast the light of the Force upon the entire... ten square mile ...island."

Freyja blinks at the Wookie's revelations... then looks with new respect at the handle resting in her lap. Her thought to it is quiet, I will try to live up to the legend you are... I promise. Zero says, "Gods above. This is... a lot to take in. Yes, I definitely need some more time. Ah, I'd like to use the back room for a while, if that's all right. There's a... well, a ritual from home that I've been neglecting for a while. It's something from my very earliest training, when Wulong first began teaching me his fighting style. I think I should look inside for a while before I try this. Whoever my saber is or was, it deserves my complete confidence."

Freyja nods to Zero with quiet calm... then simply goes back to meditating, her bright blue eyes drifting half closed again and one golden-skinned hand resting on the strange handle. If it takes energy and familiarity to most fulfill this destiny... she might as well start now.

Roakkana looks at the casings again, steepling his fingers together. "I found nothing about... about Awatea, except one brief mention of three sabers made by a nameless saber-maker on a nameless world. Three Jedi wielded them for a time, and were among the last to wield such blades. Despite accusations of heterodoxy from the Council, they traveled throughout the Mid Rim, and were by far among the most beloved Jedi of their time. After a time though, they hid their sabers and, amidst great controversy, retired from the Order to the Bendu monastery. It was a time when the first tenets of Jedi orthodoxy and dogma were being strongly established."

Freyja wonders silently at Master Roakkana's words. Is this why they have the sabers, then? To hopefully bring them to the glory and honor they deserve? Or is she like an artist... seeing what she wants to see, instead of what is truly there? Then again, within the Force... is there a difference?

She doesn't know.

Still... she decides not to worry about the current fabric of reality. Instead she simply concentrates on the crystal she's holding. Memory, holocron, single-celled entity... she doesn't know, but she tries her best to reach it and learn more from it.

She senses nothing more from the crystal... well, not entirely. She senses slumbering potentialities, possibilities... it is an egg -- no, not an egg... a chrysalis, awaiting the right time to metamorphosize and grow into something new and different. There are secrets here... memories... waiting to be tapped. It is bound with her; as she grows, so will it. With this realization there is but a single impression -- a name -- or rather, perhaps, a Name: Kourakani.

Roakkana nods to Zero. "That's understandable, Zero. We shan't interrupt you there..."

Zero stands and nods. "Spiritual ancestors. That's an easy concept to understand. Harder to live up to." He takes a deep breath. "I'll be ready to begin the cuts in a few hours." With that, he retires into the back room.

Alone in the back room, Zero slips off his shoes and sits down in the middle of the floor, then spreads out a few items before him. The cutters, fanned out carefully; the two Adegan crystals on either side; the blade casing in his lap; and in front of him a small holoprojector. He takes a deep breath, centering, and leans forward to activate the projector.

The projector hums to life, spreading out an elaborately convoluted mandala in the darkened air of the room; the universe in miniature, or so it goes. Zero folds his hands around the blade and murmurs softly, "Onka kabizan maii souka... onka kabizan maii souka..." He nods softly, rhythmically, with the chant.

Out in the common room, Freyja's lips curve up into a small smile, forming the Naming word in a soft whisper, "Kourakani..." Her thought is for the crystal alone, We shall know each other well, and dance in sunlight. She's peripherally aware of the Force stirring around Zero, but notes he doesn't seem worried or unhappy. That being the case, she continues intensely exploring the crystal and her own inner Self, within the Force.

Freyja's thoughts form the image in her head as she 'sees' the crystal -- the golden dancer waiting within the chrysalis, like a butterfly. Perhaps they are both still in chrysalis -- she and the crystal itself. She looks forward to spreading new wings of fire, in sunlight.

Zero repeats the syllables again and again... his father taught him these words' significance was mystical, having no literal 'meaning.' Rather, their power is in their very pronunciation, in the act of drawing breath. Gradually, the drawing of breath is all there is, repeating the syllables over and over with almost no pause. His eyes slip half-closed as he concentrates upon the center point of the mandala, the omphalos on which everything turns. As his mind dives for it, heading for that center point, he feels for the Adegan within the Force, slowly, slowly...

And then at last he finds it -- something clicks at the center of things. "Onkakabizanmaiisoukaonkakabizanmaiisouka-" Then a low, rising sound in his throat as he draws the Force up from inside, his eyes snapping open, "Haaaaaaa!" There is a ripple as his translucent presence within the Force begins to extend further out... the holoprojector flickers; the mandala begins to unravel itself, the Adegan rising slowly to meet it.

Zero reaches out, slowly extending his arms. The Adegan crystals hover just beyond his palms, and the mandala has come apart; the hologram swirls in arabesque patterns around him. Centered in the moment and free of thought, it comes as an almost intuitive realization: the mandala hasn't changed at all. Here is the center, the omphalos, the Saber's Edge. Awareness floods in on him; he sucks in his breath with a hiss, eyes wide, as the mandala collapses back in on itself, and his fingers close tightly around the two crystals. It makes perfect sense to him. The moment, the deciding instant, and the balance. Doing without doing. A faintly stunned, bemused expression crosses his face as the world slowly begins to settle into place around him again, his momentary brush with enlightenment fading. Father was right all along.

As Zero focuses his will and his being through the eternal mandala and into the Adegan crystals in his hands, he starts to feel the pommel-jewel in the Awatea saber responding, the one which bonded to him not long -- hours? years? -- ago. Memory... is that all that there is to the quies-ovo cells? -or is it Memory of a subtly different definition? From it there is a single impression, a word or Name that seems to hold to the core of it; which somehow Zero senses it shares with him: Kawatuara.

Zero looks down at the blade in his lap. "Kawatuara." He takes a deep breath. "We're together again, Silver Guardian, aren't we. Then or now... it's all the same, if you take a long enough view... but I think it's time. Let's begin."

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Last modified: 2002-Jul-16 16:14:54

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