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Realms: These Shattered Stars Logs

Chapter Six, Part Three

Well into breakfast, as the group are finishing up, one of the Silver Path acolytes approaches the group and asks them to come to the main hall, the first hall they arrived in, in an hour. Freyja nods agreeably to the acolyte. Once she's gone, Freyja happily wonders aloud who'll be training each of them. "After all, from what the Gyndine Jedi Masters said, there'll be someone here for each of us." She beams at Vakkal, "You too! Someone to help you with healing."

Vakkal blinks. "Er... really? I'm certainly intrigued, now! I wonder what they might do...."

Zero says, "My luck, it'll be that Savalli Kho..."

Fhazil says wryly, "Hey, at least it looks like you won't be lacking for good food if that's the case, Zero."

Zero says, "That'd be a switch."

Freyja giggles at Zero, "Hey, he's nice!" then nods emphatically to Vakkal, "Definitely, hai! That's what I specifically asked my Gyndine Jedi about, in fact -- how I could help you. She said she didn't know, but there'd be someone here for you." Vakkal doesn't reply verbally, though he seems extremely curious and interested in what could possibly help him with his healing issue.

The hall is filled with the adepts of the order, as well as the several elders of the renegade order. At the front of the room and beneath the crosshatched Bendu wheel stands the presbyter. There is an air of calm solemnity, and yet a quiet, rather uplifting sense of anticipation beneath. All eyes are on the group. "Come forward, please," the presbyter says to the group.

As their eyes get used to the lighting the group can see some of the other visitors and guests of the refugee, far in the shadows and watching curiously. Obviously something like this has never occurred before. Zero steps forward cautiously. I hate being the center of attention, I really do... Freyja paces gracefully forward. As usual, she's fascinatedly observing what's happening around her.

As they step forward, they can pick out figures they recognize, deep in the shadows. Argent is watching curiously beside the hooded figure from breakfast. The Valsarians are there also, beside Diana's Gray Company.

The presbyter raises her arms. "Friends, fellow travelers upon the Silver Path. Thousands of year ago we broke from our patron order, the Kono, to pursue a goal of reunification and reconciliation between the Lightsiders and Darksiders. Taren Shoal, the founder of the Silver Path, was given a great vision of Lightsider and Darksider joining together to form a gestalt that would bring together Light and Dark. In her meditation she realized that such were the ways of Lightsider and Darksider, they could only be properly balanced by a Graysider -- one who sought balance between creation and destruction. One of these paths of balance was preservation, and upon this tripod she formed the first theories of the triat -- the tripartite union of Light, Dark, and in-between.

Freyja listens with interest, and wishes a little wistfully Master Roakkana could be here. He'd be quite fascinated. She'll have to remember this as well as possible for him.

"The triats were successful. They were beyond anyone's hopes, least of all Taren Shoal's. But they were still unbalanced, in time flying either to the Dark or the Light. And against the backdrop of the Heresy Wars there was little which could be done. When the time came that the Order of Jedi Knights sought to dissolve the teachings of Taren Shoal... the Kono dissolved, the Silver Path fled into hiding, and the Jedi stole the secret of the triats, using that knowledge to create the Templar manus.

"But we have not forgotten. While the Galaxy has lost knowledge of the Kono and the Silver Path, we have not forgotten... and we have remembered the old ways, the triats. We have held this knowledge in trust against the day when, as Taren Shoal had told us, 'Gray dawn rises, and Light and Dark war upon each other over the twilight between.' That day, my fellow travelers, has finally come.

"These three have come to us. Look well, O travelers, look well. They are Lightsider, Graysider, and Darksider. They have come to us to be trained in the ways of the triat. With the blessings of the Adept Karlitta Shang, who has passed on to the netherworld, they have overcome trial and adversity to learn from us. We shall not disappoint them."

Freyja internally hopes she doesn't disappoint them, actually -- the Silver Path folk. She's done the best she can to be a true Lightsider, and to be a good and true friend to her Gray and Darksider friends. She hopes she's done enough.

The Presbyter steps forward a bit, and an acolyte comes beside her, carrying several bundles of cloth. "Padawan Freyja, of the tradition of Luminous Beings. Do you love life, and cherish creation, yet recognize that in time all things must give way for the new, and that some things must be preserved while others are allowed to pass on?"

Freyja considers that statement for a moment, then nods, "Hai. I do." She adds a little ruefully, "I do not always like it... but I do."

The presbyter nods. "Such honesty is often its own reward." She turns to the acolyte and from the bundle draws forth a neatly folded cloth of winter-white. She shakes it a little, and it unfolds smoothly into a length of cloth. While speaking, she sets it across Freyja's shoulders, letting it drape down to her elbows, "Then ye shall be the Light-mantle of the triat. Wear this mantle well, and let it give you strength in the training ye approach."

Freyja smiles with quiet pride, straightening slightly. "Thank you, Presbyter."

The presbyter moves over to Zero, looking at him. "Padawan Zero," she says, "of the tradition of Luminous Beings, though you yourself walk the Saber's Edge. Do you recognize the necessity of both life and death, light and darkness, order and chaos in balanced measure, that the body be not overfull with life nor overfull with death?"

Zero says, "It took me a while... but I think I do now."

With the same solemnity as before, the Presbyter draws a cloth of dove gray from the acolyte's arms, and sets the mantle across Zero's shoulders. "Then be ye the Gray-mantle, the walker in twilight, and with your left hand may you reap and with your right may you sow. Wear this mantle and remember, and your heart shall guide you to what you must do when the time comes."

Zero bows deeply. "I'll do my best."

She returns the bow, surprisingly in Sedraki manner, with palms out. "I have utterly no doubt you will." She moves to Fhazil. "Journeyman Fhazil of the tradition of the Blossoming Night. Do you hold to the necessity of destruction and allowing that which must decay to pass on, yet realize that to destroy all will leave nothing in place, and that for the body to live life must come unto it still?"

Fhazil seems momentarily surprised by not only the term the presbyter uses, but also her words. "Yes... yes, I do, presbyter," he says with conviction.

She draws a cloth of raven-black from the acolyte, who steps back as she sets it across Fhazil's shoulders. "Then shall ye be the Dark-mantle of the triat. Wear this mantle and know that what you must needs do in the name of your mission is right and true, and you shall not falter." Freyja smiles again, encouraged by her friends' quiet conviction.

The presbyter steps back, spreading her hands. "On this day," she says, and to eyes awakened to the Force a pale nimbus seems to begin to coalesce around her. "On this day," she repeats, her voice stronger as she continues: "we see the return of the greatest of our legacies to the Galaxy. Once lost, now found again, three have taken up the mantles of the triat. May all who witness this rejoice, for hope springs again in our tradition! Let those who learn of what passes here be not troubled but enlivened. May the triat find success and victory in its endeavors. And may those who would see it destroyed be confounded. For there is more to the universe than mere metaphors of Light and Dark. Hail the triat!"

With that the assembled adepts raise the same call, "Hail the triat! Hail the triat!" It then collapses into applause and enthusiastic talk amongst all present. Freyja grins at Zero and Fhazil. She suspects this means more to the folk of the Silver Path than she realizes... but she's happy to help them if she can, and the Force besides.

Zero shifts a little, uncomfortably. This is definitely more attention than I was expecting. I don't think I'm ready to be anyone's messiah.

Freyja's grin gets quietly amused, I think we're more a concept than a messiah to them, Zero.

Zero doesn't smile, I wouldn't count on it.

Freyja murmurs quietly in his mind, Lighten up, Zero. If they get a moment of happiness from this, in the face of incipient war, I shall not begrudge them that.

After a minute or so the presbyter holds up her hands. "I entreat you to do all you can for them. For now let me no longer keep you who have work elsewhere. Go with the Force as your ally." With that the ceremony seems to close. The assembled adepts repeat the phrase and the gathering becomes a little more intimate as the presbyter walks forward to the group. Appearing with her and the group are other Silver Path adepts, including the very tall and broad Human male, the Wookiee female, Sifu Danka, and a Trandoshan.

"My friends," the presbyter says, "you have brought hope to us. But I sense time is short. We must begin your training immediately. Word has come the Sith have increased the tempo of their invasion. While we hold no great love for the Republic, should the Republic be extinguished so shall the light of the Jedi, and any hope for reconciliation with it."

Freyja nods silently. Zero says, "If the Republic falls we'll all be looking for new homes -- not just the monastery." Freyja nods again, ruefully, to Zero's comment.

The presbyter nods. "Yes. And instead of a dominion of Light there will be a Dark empire. Either is undesirable, but the Empire more so. Sifu Danka," she says, indicating the Togruta, who bows politely, "will assist in your training in the concepts of the triat and what such a bond entails. Merroukah," and the Wookiee bows, "will instruct the Gray mantle in the finer points of what such a role means."

The Wookiee bares her teeth in a smile. "I look forward to seeing what challenges you may present, Zero," she says in Shyriiwook.

Zero grins a little. "Likewise, Master."

Freyja watches with interest. Is the Trandoshan Vakkal's helper perhaps? Or maybe Fhazil's? The Kel Dor continues, "Adept Shan-suub Thann," and the large human bows slightly, "will be Freyja's instructor. He knows well the Light, which... he will explain more, if he is inclined."

The tall human says only, "I hope that we each learn from the other, Freyja," though his eyes seem to speak volumes -- volumes which are for the moment lying on their shelves.

Freyja nods politely, bowing slightly, "As do I, Adept Thann." She wonders in silent amusement what it is about her that seems to suggest to the Force she needs teachers who are, at minimum, seven feet tall! She grins internally. This is what, the third such of this height? She knows he doesn't know he did it -- but she considers the Sith Lord Si'yul Ghang to be an important teacher for her as well. Through his former apprentices he taught her Sith could indeed have honor... and where there is honor, there is the possibility for communication and mutual respect. Maybe someday she'll get to tell him that. She'd like that opportunity.

While the presbyter speaks, Zero notices off to the side that Argent and the robed figure are standing there. Argent has the kind of look on his face that says he's wondering what the heck his employer is doing. Everyone else has moved off out of the hall.

"And Adept Yishtakk." The Trandoshan hisses sibilantly, a not unpleasant expression. "She will train Fhazil in what it means to be a Darksider in the triat."

The Trandoshan female bows. "A pleassure, Fhazzil Taass."

Fhazil blinks, then inclines his head. "Uhm... thank you. The same, I look forward to working with you."

The presbyter says, "You will train together, as is only fitting, but some lessons will be for each mantle. But do not think that there is anything you must keep from one another. You will be sharing much in the coming months. If any of you have need of anything, please speak with your teachers or seek me out. I and the other elders will always be available for you. Do you have any questions?"

Zero says, "When do we start?" Freyja glances at her friends, then grins at Zero. She has a question, but it's not directly about the triat... so it can wait.

The Silver Path adepts smile en masse. "Right now," the presbyter says simply. She bows. "A room has been cleared for you; the Triskele Hall. It has not been used in thousands of years for this purpose."

Freyja bows in return. Her question can wait. Zero says, "Excellent."

The presbyter takes her leave. Danka is about to lead the group the group away when a soft, quiet voice says, "If I may, Sifu Danka, I would like to speak with the new triat... " It is the robed figure with Argent, who by this time is flashing Zero an 'I have no idea what this is about' look.

Freyja looks about with interest. Meeting the mysterious Caul had been on her list of things to do later. Zero looks between Argent and Caul with some suspicion. Who've you got mixed up with now, Argent?

Freyja whispers silently to her lightsaber, If the Shadow Devil were close, you'd know, hai, Dancer? Kourakani replies in the affirmative, reassuring Freyja that this is not the Shadow Devil's wielder. Too far. Shadow Devil is closer to the Core. Can't scent us this far away.

Danka looks over to Caul, "I have no objections, Caul. But I do not wish to keep them long from the training."

The figure raises a blue hand in a mild gesture. "It will not take long." The hand reaches up and pushes back the hood. The being beneath is about as near Human as one can get without actually hailing from Alderaan, Corellia, or Corulag. His skin is a rich blue hue, but his eyes appear to be a glowing red. On closer inspection they are actually very highly reflective, with a red hue much as a catta's at night. His hair is black and neat, long and gathered at the nape of his neck with a silver ring. And to eyes awakened to the Force, while having no trace of Sithstain... he is undoubtedly a Darksider.

Zero hms softly. I wonder if Argent hasn't told me something about himself...

Freyja studies the man with interest... then blinks and wonders internally. Near the Core? Someone suitable to Fall... could the Shadow Devil's new wielder be poor Balin Khoud? Like Korotatinea's wielder, he had two Jedi Masters -- she shakes her head. One curiosity at a time. She watches the strange man with interest.

Caul looks from each member of the group to the next, quickly yet apparently unhurriedly. "I had a vision," he says, his voice quiet and smooth. "Several months ago I saw a golden Human dancing, a pale Human bearing a shield, and an obsidian Human wielding lightning from the heavens. And with them," he turns to Vakkal wryly, "was one whose Sithstain shone in silver light and served as barrier rather than whiplash." He turns to Freyja, inclining his head. "I cannot say how I know this, Jedi Freyja, but I feel there is something that I may help with, with your huskarl."

Freyja brightens, "You! It's you for Vakkal? Oh, wonderful!" She beams at Vakkal, her expression not quite a 'told you so!' Then she blinks, looking back at the man curiously, "What family do you hail from, Odin's Guest?"

"I imagine I have been... asked by what you call the Force to help Huskarl Vakkal. With your permission, then, while you are training I will work with him?" At Freyja's question he smiles a little. "I am Chiss, if that is what you ask. That which I once called my homeworld is deep in what the Republic calls the gal-north Unknown Regions."

Freyja considers, then shakes her head, "I apologize; I do not know of your people. However, if Vakkal is willing, he is welcome to work with you." She grins happily at Vakkal, giving him a quick hug, "Learn lots! Lady bless!" then turns to the patiently waiting Togruta, "All right! Shall we begin, Sifu?" Danka nods and smiles, leading the group off. As they depart, Argent flashes an "I'll watch after him," sign to Zero, then follows Caul and Vakkal from the room.

Freyja's pace is light -- for so long they've been struggling to get here! Now they're here she can hardly wait. It's exciting; she loves learning new things. She flashes a smile at Fhazil and Zero, her eyes sparkling, then heads after the Togruta. Zero follows on after the Togruta, hands behind his back. Well... here we go. Nowhere to go from here but forward.

The Triskele Hall is small compared to the two larger communal halls, and is a little on the snug side. In the center is a mosaic, ancient but not terribly worn, with a rather esoteric trifold pattern. It is not unlike a yin-yang from Sedrak, except it has three elements to it: black, white, and red. "Please," Danka says, "sit at the wheel. The presbyter said she already sensed a strong bond between you three." She continues, sitting in a half-lotus that seems second nature to her, "While I have never trained a triat before, I will do my best. We will also have the assistance of the Path's library in this venture."

Freyja looks around. Is the triskele the 'wheel' the Sifu refers to? Zero kneels down on the red portion of the wheel, with a practiced precision that speaks of long years in a dojo, settling down on his heels. Nng. Haven't kneeled on a hard floor like this for years. Hope my knees don't give out.

Danka spreads her hands. "In front of you, you see one of the many symbols the Kono and the Silver Path have used in the past. This one comes from the culture which produced the Sedraki colonists, actually. It is one symbol, and yet within that one symbol are three more symbols, identical yet representing completely different facets. Yet the important thing is it is one whole symbol. This is what the triat means. The Templars took the techniques of the triat but did not take the philosophy behind it."

Freyja tilts her head, thoughtfully regarding the triskele, then smiles and fluidly settles into a half-lotus which matches that of the Togruta. She lets her mind drift into meditative alertness, so the Sifu's words will weave themselves deeply into her non-thoughts and become part of her meditation.

Danka rests her hands on her knees. "The bond, the izdati obveznicu, is of course the strongest expression of the triat. Though it you will be able to combine your skills, react to threats as one, sense things the others in the bond sense. More than this, you will have a synergy between yourselves by dint of your differing philosophies, which you will come to see as one and the same, albeit different and not mutually exclusive facets. In a metaphysical sense this will complete the Tree of Life between you, raising you as pillars against the harsh winds surrounding you."

Danka smiles. "For now... at the very start of your Path... you cannot do that just yet. The training for the triat involves not only the metaphysical but, in the adage of 'as above, so below,' you will train your bodies as well. Sometimes the training will involve both your mind and body, and will lead you to the combative stance of the triat -- when in a crisis you will be able to act as one."

Merroukah stands, smiling, as Danka finishes speaking. "As Teacher Danka noted," she says, there being no possible way for a Wookiee to pronounce 'sifu' natively, "'as above, so below; as below, so above.' We will train your bodies even as we are training your minds. This serves a threefold purpose; even as the physical regimen helps to focus your minds, and in some cases helps you to understand some of the symbolism of the triat, it will also prepare you for the more mundane trials which will await you once you leave here. The Presbyter has told us some of what you hope to accomplish, and that you will be opposed in many ways is a certainty. We will do all we can to prepare you for that."

"To that end," she looks to Zero, smiling, "I would ask you to step into the wheel with me." She steps into the center of the wheel, hands folded neatly in front of her with almost impish anticipation. She readjusts her hands into a curious mudra (something Freyja has seen Roakkana do at times), then takes a breath.. and a moment later the Wookiee seems much more centered and calm within the Force, though she still regards Zero with a pleasant smile.

Zero takes a step onto the wheel as directed, his hands reflexively opening and closing at his sides; something is obviously up here. Freyja watches with silent interest from her half-lotus. The Graysider Wookiee smiles and nods. "You use arms, yes? Weapons? Which do you prefer?"

Zero says, "I can use any number of weapons and fight unarmed if necessary, sifu. I prefer blades. Swords."

She nods. "Ah, good. I read you aright, then! Though admittedly, the case you carried into the refuge with you gave it away." She draws from beneath her robes a vibro of almost antique make -- although for an antique it is in excellent condition. The design is vaguely Sedraki, with curling rampant green dragons on the gilded hilt. Most likely from Corellia, it is known in some circles as a vibro-baojian. "Use this. I assure you it has not been doctored in any way."

Zero bows politely with open hands, gently reaching out to take the weapon as he does so. "Am I to understand you want to fight, sifu?"

She smiles. "Not exactly. I want more to sense how you are in the Weave, what you call the Force, when you attack. To strike at someone is one of the more direct ways of touching them through the Force. You have heard it said that you must love your enemy even as you are destroying them?"

Zero bows politely and takes a step or two backward, readying the blade. "I have heard that, though I'm not certain I ever believed that. I've killed a lot of thoroughly unlovable individuals." He raises the blade, "This is a very beautiful sword, by the way."

She smiles. "Thank you. It has been here at the refuge for three thousand years. I am given to understand it was wielded by a Corellian of an obscure Force tradition who sought refuge here and bequeathed the sword to us. It is not simply a metaphor, but for the time being it is enough to understand there is a bond between combatants within the Force. They are interacting with each other. There is ebb and flow of the Force even between unawakened combatants -- much more so between the awakened. In that bond, of sorts, you may come to understand the other better. Battle is but one way."

Danka provides, with a slightly whimsical smile. "There are other ways. Many of them much more pleasant. But that may come later, if there is time."

Freyja wonders thoughtfully how one could tell if a blade had been 'doctored.' Idly she 'looks' at both vibro-baojian and Wookiee within the Force, as she considers that thought. Zero holds the sword level along his eye line, balancing the pommel with just the fingertips of his other hand. "My father used to call that 'communicating with your fists.' I'm ready when you are, sifu."

To Freyja's eyes Merroukah is clearly gray, and has an extreme sense of that same stillness within the Force Freyja sensed earlier from the Grey Company: 'a rock in still water.' The sword, despite its history -- and it feels old to Freyja's sense -- seems otherwise perfectly normal. That is, she can sense nothing within the Force to suggest it is anything other than an ancient vibro-sword in excellent condition.

Merroukah smiles. "Indeed? I imagine that is one way of putting it. Just so. Use a... what was it, Sifu Danka? Ah -- use a Jade Parchment cut." She grins. "That way I may still be able to dodge out of the blade's path."

Zero says, "Sifu." He advances in his unique style, a rotating step that carries the sword around him, describing a series of fast lateral rotations about him. For half a second it appears the sword is rotating in the air all by itself and he's keeping it in the air with a tap from his fingers. The moment he is within range the sword flicks up -- a quick, rising, diagonal arc -- and he holds it there outstretched, again balancing the pommel on the tips of his fingers.

Zero's attack itself is simple and fairly basic, something common to most slashing sword styles, including his father's style and the esoteric Kaminoan blade style he uses. Quick, simple, and efficient -- nothing fancy, despite the elaborate approach. As he makes the cut, for a brief moment Zero senses the faintest of touches through the Force from the Wookiee adept. It is non-intrusive, but in that moment she seems to take his every measure -- or at least a goodly number of measures.

The moment passes when the Wookiee moves quickly to the side to evade Zero's attack. She appears unflustered and unwinded by the dodge, smiling and saying cheerfully, "Thank you, Zero. You did very well! Now, then. Be still, stand there, and focus; center yourself in the Force as if preparing your mind and spirit for battle. The Jedi often say to clear your mind before battle; I tell you to do nothing of the sort. Be calm and relaxed, let your heart and feelings be not absent but aware of all that is around you." A merry note touches her voice, "And when you have done that, it will be my turn, and you will defend yourself."

Zero murmurs, "Thank you, sifu." He holds quite still, the only movement the briefest shifting of the fingertips of his off-hand, as if ready to reposition the blade. He smiles inwardly, Naturally, and keeps loose. His previous teachers had a habit of using this method as an object lesson. The last time he was on the receiving end of this, his practice sword was destroyed and the welt didn't go away for two days.

The Wookiee smiles and closes her own eyes. Freyja can sense some of what is transpiring within the Force; the sifu is no longer quite a 'rock in still water,' but a little less so. As she watches, the Force itself -- the threads of the Weave, as the Wookiee put it -- seems to coalesce slightly between the two... and Freyja can sense the sifu speaking to Zero through the eddies of the Force.

Trust in your senses and your feelings, she says to Zero. Listen to them through the Force. Through the Force, you may know the intent of your opponent. If they mean you harm, you will know. If they do not, you will know. You will be then able to know what you must do. Is it truly an enemy, one whose heart is so intent on harm they must be destroyed? or is it one who is misguided, or means no ill or harm at all? If you but listen, Graysider, your path along the Saber's Edge will be made all the clearer.

Zero doesn't say anything; the teacher can feel him waiting, listening as it were, for the next movement. Freyja continues to watch in silent interest. Unless the Wookiee maneuvers Zero so he might trample her or Fhazil, she doesn't see any reason to move, intrude, or otherwise potentially distract her companion-in-arms during his training. Zero starts to reach out to the Force. He senses the sifu before him, and senses no hostile intent from her -- indeed, he senses only affection and caring and a sort of maternal protectiveness.

Freyja has something of a double-vision view. She can sense the interaction within the Force -- peripherally, at least -- it has a slow, fluid, timeless grace about it. More mundanely, the sifu moves incredibly quickly in a straight-through strike with her fingers towards Zero's forehead.

To Zero's perception there is not only no hostile intent from the Wookiee, but there is the clear intent of doing no harm -- indeed, to purposely hold back landing the strike. But will she? Zero takes a single step back and lowers his blade to one side. If she intends to strike him, Merroukah is going to blow Zero's doors off. Freyja looks a bit startled, but doesn't move or exclaim. Zero must know what he's doing.

The tableau freezes a moment later -- Merroukah's fingers are perhaps half an inch from where Zero's forehead was. She holds the position, smiling calmly. "You mostly listened." she says wryly, straightening and folding her hands before her. "But you did much better than most who do that exercise. Most duck, run, fall backwards -- I had one unfortunate who stepped forward. He was not struck; although the blow would have been very real and damaging, as you noticed. With some species -- not Humans, though, I believe -- it can be fatal. But you listened -- mostly -- when the Force told you I intended to not harm you at all."

Zero says, "Actually, sifu... I was just moving the sword out of your way." He smiles, "Well... maybe that's not entirely true. It's a lot easier to counterattack from here if I'd made a mistake in judging you." He doesn't need to add, Provided my head was still attached to my neck afterward.

She grins. "'Tis well enough. I thank you for the courtesy. It is more important that you understand this: the Force will not lie to you. It is a book of secrets -- in fact, they are not secrets at all. The past, the future, and the present are written within its pages. By letting your feelings and your logic -- your ego and id -- work together, co-join in the Force, you may read the pages that the other is writing with their intents."

"Now, sometimes the book can be concealed; the pages muddied. There will be enemies who may attempt to conceal their intent from you. But you will know such tampering has been done to cloud your perceptions. The Force itself will be able to tell you. In some martial arts a true master can present utterly no intent to an action until they undertake that action -- but even that will be telegraphed through the Force as they begin their strike. You will have perhaps a fraction of a moment to react; to decide if such a one truly intends harm. But it is more than most have.

"I should also note that you can sense intent; you cannot sense lack of intent. The poor souls who are so deranged and of fevered mind that they truly do not know what it is that they are doing... their intent and action may not coincide. There are few such as these, however, and if you do not know such a one on sight, it will become clear quickly."

Danka stands. "This is true for all of you," she says softly. "Trust, that most important bond through the Force, is also the most important bond with the Force. The Force will never lie to you. Others may seek to conceal the truth from you in many and varied ways. But you can know when such is happening. All else being equal, the Force truly is your ally, whether you know it or not. And it is this trust which will need to engender -- if you have not already, and I sense you may very well have -- between yourselves preparatory to becoming a bonded triat."

Freyja smiles silently, still observing with fascination. Zero straightens up, resting the point of the blade on the floor, hands on the pommel. "I apologize for not trusting completely. Covering all options is something I'm used to doing." Freyja nods amusedly, mostly to herself. Zero says, "I didn't think you'd actually strike me... but just in case."

Meroukkah smiles to Zero. "There is no need to apologize. You will learn to listen. And out there caution is never a bad thing. But for those times when caution avails you not against the other... the Force will tell you what you need to know." She bows to him formally, returning to her seat beside the circle with Danka as Thann stands. "Padawan Freyja," he says in a gentle voice. "Please stand with me in the circle."

Zero bows deeply, going back to the edge of the circle and kneeling on one knee, whisking the sword ritually, resting it across his leg. Freyja nods, rising fluidly. She paces silently to the edge of the circle, bows slightly, then steps into the circle, where she bows again, more formally, to the extraordinarily tall Human. She murmurs the old ritual courtesies quietly, "Honored teacher, please instruct your student."

Thann returns the bow. "I shall do so," he says simply. "You should know this now, then. I am one who clove to the Light too much. I am one whom the Light burned, yet I hold no ill will towards the Light... now. In bitterness I tripped and Fell over the Saber's Edge, found fear and anger, then recognized my foolishness and turned and climbed my way back to the Light. I am Lightsider -- of that you may have no doubt. My faith and mien lie in the domain of life and creation, despite my journey through Darkness as a scorched person."

"While it was not my time in the Darkness which made me see the necessity of balance -- of Light and Dark, as well as that which comes between -- I have come to know that which is must pass away. That which may yet be must have room to come into being. You understand this, and you have perhaps realized the Light can burn. It may have given you pause in the past -- that the Light can be as dangerous as the Dark. But let me show you what it is the Light may also do for you without burning you." He turns so he stands with Freyja to his right. "Match my movements," he says, "as best as you can and without pause." He starts a slow, surprisingly languid movement of his hand upward, then downward. Then his arm follows suit, again slowly.

Freyja listens silently but does not comment at her instructor's self-description. She'd love to talk to him later about how a Lightsider can be burned by the Light itself -- it's not a concept she grasps yet -- but right now she's here to learn from him. At his direction she follows his movements, fluid as a dancer or martial artist -- who is just beginning their training.

As Freyja begins to match his movements, and as they get more and more complicated, they begin to appear to her to be some form of martial arts kata or standard exercise. With a bit of a start she realizes it could very well be that, but with the particular motions of hand and foot, it is more of an increasingly-complicated dance.

Shortly they are moving their entire bodies, still slowly and fluidly -- the slide of a foot here, the turn of the waist there. There is a pattern to the dance, of that Freyja is certain. Something intrinsic to the symbolism of the Force, especially as a Lightsider... but it lies just beyond her grasp for now. "Very good," Thann murmurs. The pattern has repeated a few times. Freyja picked up on the pattern fairly well, and despite the fluidity it is actually a simple pattern -- as if it were a glimpse of something more complicated.

Oddly, so deep within the pattern is Freyja that it is not at all startling when Thann suddenly stops those motions and strikes at her -- with an unbelievably ferocious series of kiahs from some language alien to even Aurabesh. "Riooohh! Shaaah! Kiyoooooooh!"

And each strike is neatly met by one of the languid motions of Freyja's dance. It is not as if she deflects the force of the blow, using it against Thann. Rather, in opposition to the eminently destructive force inherent within the blows -- there is little doubt that getting hit by these strikes from some alien martial art would hurt a lot -- the blows are blocked, solidly and firmly in equal opposition to the force exerted by Thann.

And almost as a piece de resistance, with that last blow firmly in her grasp, the dance-steps and the strength filling her hands and arms and body coming from somewhere, see her fling the unresisting Human to the deck.

Freyja's head turns almost languidly to watch her instructor's gracefully rolling fall. Outwardly she's just following the pattern within the Force -- or is it running her? Hard to tell... but it feels so incredibly right to let those blows redirect, to let his destructive energy flow elsewhere than into her. Inwardly she's a bit shocked still, and it feels like all the hair on her arms and the back of her neck is standing bolt upright in shock!

Zero murmurs to himself, "Nice shot. Imagine what she'll be like when she can do it on purpose."

Thann is apparently well versed in martial arts. He lands, slapping the ground firmly as he hits to mitigate the fall, and is standing shortly thereafter with a faint smile on his lips. "Excellent, Padawan Freyja. You see now. The Light is a force of creation. Matter and energy may of course be neither created nor destroyed. But that which is created arises from some source. That source is, in an iconic sense, the Force. The Lightsider may invoke the Light, draw it down through its many emanations and bring it forth into the waking world. This too is something which you have seen the briefest glimpse of, I sense. But it goes further than this."

"Freyja, this is the true power of Lightsiders... and what may undo even the most well-meaning Lightsider. The power to create so much at will can unbalance the universe. In many cases it is this which has burned Lightsiders, though there are other ways we may be burned as well. Unmitigated, rampant creation -- of life, of energy, even of matter. You have the ability within you, as do all Lightsiders, to bring an incredible creative force to the universe. It is up to you to regulate it -- but oh, what a gift it is...!"

Freyja listens attentively, then slowly smiles and relaxes slightly. She'd not been sure what that... something... that deep, silent pain she'd seen initially in Thann's eyes had been caused by. She'd been faintly worried his choice of student wasn't as much choice as a request he couldn't turn down. To discover he's not unhappy with her as a student is a bit of a relief. She's not foolish enough to lower her guard entirely, however.

Freyja wonders thoughtfully about Sensei Thann's words. He'd said matter and energy couldn't be created nor destroyed... but hadn't he also added that Lightsiders could create matter and energy? She'll have to research that later.

Thann continues gently. "Not all Lightsiders can become such a creative paragon. The secularization of the Jedi Order, the polarization of the Unified Force from creation-preservation-destruction into the Light and the Dark, has done much to water down the force of creation in the Jedi. The roots of this overwhelming affinity with creation lie in the elements of a number of fertility cults who joined the Syncretic Assembly. But as the Assembly became more secular and more polarized between Light and Dark, the focus of these fertility traditions became muddied and lost. What little remained in the Order, in a tradition held by a handful of Jedi, was always borderline heterodoxy; an atavistic throwback to ecclesiastic traditions the Order had divorced itself from."

Freyja asks fascinatedly, "Do you still know of those cults?"

Thann shakes his head. "Nay, I do not. I knew once a hetaera of the Order -- they are few and far between, now -- another holdover. They pass on the traditions that in many ways gave the Order its strongest impetus, but they are heterodox now. They exist still, though. It was one who healed me after I had been burned and Fell."

Freyja looks a bit disappointed, but simply nods. Maybe she'll meet one later. If the Force thinks she needs to... she will. She smiles then, unworried, and quietly says, "What next, Teacher?"

Thann also smiles quietly and bows to her. "Now... we continue your training, after your dark friend is introduced to his own teacher."

Freyja nods and bows to Thann, murmuring formally, "Thank you, teacher, for sharing your knowledge," then moves off the circle. She turns and bows again in respect to the dojo and its teachers, then settles gracefully back into the half lotus where she'd been seated previously.


The training proceeds apace. At least at first, much of their time is spent training separately. Shan-suub for his part teaches Freyja the curiously Lightsider martial art he seems to have mastered. He notes it never had a name; it is adapted from a number of martial arts, including a Corellian variant of capoeira and one known as pentjak silat. It comes easily to Freyja, in a way that surprises her. Perhaps it is the assertion of the Light within its philosophies, or the way its motions are almost like dancing.

"Dance is often used as a metaphor," he says. "The hetaerae of the Order told entire stories by way of dance, and their traditions were passed on by dance. Indeed, the metaphor is strongly true: the order of the universe, from creation through preservation to destruction and back again, over and over, is considered by some to be the greatest dance of all.

"Through motion, stance, and rhythm, you can understand this pattern of life and death and recognize it as one and the same. Motion blends into movement, thought into action, to the point where at the instant of creation is the result of that creation. At the instant of thought, there is action. It is something uniquely Lightsider. The Darksider relies on strong emotion to fuel their bond with the Force, while the Lightsider embraces -- rather, should embrace, serenity and controlled, yet not suppressed, emotions."

Merroukah, for her part, makes note early on of Zero's interest in weapons, and seems to have an endless supply of varied and exotic implements of personal devastation -- and, more importantly, an equally endless repertoire of using them as well to train Zero's mind, mentally and philosophically.

"Each weapon," she says once, "has its own philosophy, its own intent. There is a reason a weapon is made in the way it is." She and Zero often talk about the design and intent of weapons, and how they relate to the ways of thinking one uses when wielding them, and even when not wielding them. She introduces Zero also to the uniquely Kono weapons of the windsong sword and, of course, the shard-blade.

"This one's philosophy was late in coming to the Kono," she says, handing Zero one shard-blade while she herself bears another. "Previously, the Kono had relied on the windsong sword. It fit the philosophy well; when in harmony and balance in all things, the wielder could spin songs of victory. It was said that silence was the song of defeat."

"But things change, often dramatically. When the Silver Path started, the shard-sword was introduced by one of the first initiates into those mysteries. It is an aggressive weapon, meant to allow the wielder to reach further than the typical swords of that time, even the great-swords some Jedi Knights bore. It can strike from behind or over others. Yet if wielded well it can also provide suitable and practical defense. It's basic design was known to the Kono for many years, but it was not until the Jedi sought to dissolve the Kono that the shard-sword came into greater and greater use, in part as a call to arms against the Jedi. If not for the threat of the Darksider cults, and a history of cooperation, the Kono would have wielded the shard-sword against the Jedi blades."

Fhazil's tutor eventually reveals her own connection to the Darkside: she had been trained by a Dark Jedi some ten years earlier, awakened to the Force by that one in a ritual that was less than pleasant. She used what the Dark Jedi had taught her to flee, and neatly set a pack of Jedi on the renegade. She does not know what fate befell her former master, but she is not worried overmuch, and despite the experience has grown fond of the "Dark" path.

Yet while she is certainly of a Dark bent, she has made peace with her past, and teaches Fhazil to use emotions other than rage and fear, something she herself gathered after much trial and error. "Fear," she says simply. "Fear attractss the fearful. Fear iss our ally. But it iss not our only ally. Did you know joy can fuel the Darkssider battlemind? Truth. How of rapture, or enthussiasm, or dessperation? All the ssame. The Brotherhood of Darknesss turned their back completely upon the Light, and in their own dessperation choze fear as the quickesst and eassiesst weapon to usse -- their own fear, and the fear of their enemiess."

"The Ssith of today perhapss are more balanced, az you may have sseen. You usse rage az a sscalpel, az a ssabre's blade, rather than as a naval desstroyer's main batteriess. Many Ssith of War revel in combat, and what fuelss their battlemind iss not rage or anger or fear but exuberanss, the feeling of not being nearly az alive az when they are in battle. They ssay it iss focusssed rage, but in reality they fool themsselvess. Ironically, thesse ones are closser to the truth than the philossopher-ssorcererss of the Ssith."

She teaches him then what it means to follow this path -- to use any emotion, not merely rage or fear, to strengthen his connection to the Force.


The training progresses over the course of the next several months. Shortly before a week has passed, however, Freyja asks Sifu Danka for permission for her and some others to return to the Platinum Eclipse. As she explains, the group knew there would probably be a constant issue with goods on the small Gray colony circling Zhar, so had planned ahead by bringing extra food, water, and air. She grins, adding, "And... I have some plants I want to bring in, so they get watered... and, um... I wouldn't mind seeing the gyrrons again. They're sweet!"

Sifu Danka has no problem with this, and sends a pair of acolytes in civilian dress to help Freyja and the others retrieve the supplies from the Eclipse. Hrrun's people have a discreet little passage that leads to the refuge, intended for delivering supplies and such, which Freyja and the acolytes take back into the refuge. At the other end, a number of other acolytes and one of the visitors who is helping to run the refuge's systems, quickly and efficiently gather up the supplies, cataloguing them and putting them into the relatively closed system of the refuge.

Freyja helps in the shifting of the supplies as well, happy they can give something back (however small) to the refuge which has taken them in. Later she also enjoys spending a while sitting with the gyrrons, rubbing their ears and crooning quietly to them.

The thought occurs to Freyja, as she's petting Drang (arguably the more social of the two gyrrons) and watching Kugo prowl along the rafters, that the gyrrons are somewhat vaguely familiar. It's after Kugo has pounced and swallowed whole some small, reptilian vermin, and looks down at Freyja with a smile, that she gets an uncomfortable realization that the gyrrons look more than a little bit (sans the vertically-split lower jaw) like Qatto Verg when they seem to smile that way.

Freyja hmfs quietly to herself. What a horrible thing to think about the poor gyrrons! It's not their fault, after all, and it's stupid to allow oneself to fear pointlessly like that. She grins up at Kugo, still rubbing Drang's ears where his head rests in her lap, and cheerfully says, "What, don't you ever chew?!"

Kugo gives one of his weird whirring yips, as if to say, Oh, and I guess you use your teeth for chewing, huh? Liam chuckles from the other room over. "Not ever have been sure why they don't chew, never never never," he says, as he moves cases of goods around, setting them down and unpacking them in an orderly fashion. "They seem to be from an ecosystem where some of the beasties can slip away even while they're chewing. Much more efficient, it seems; much much much."

Freyja grins at Kugo, "Well, hai, actually, I do chew, silly!" She laughs at Liam's explanation and nods, "Must be a biome with lots of small edibles, then, instead of one large tasty one. Makes sense when you put it that way."

Freyja enjoys herself thoroughly, rubbing ears and tummies, chatting with Liam about nothing terribly important, running her fingers through fur and whiskers, giggling and getting her nose licked, nuzzling back with cheerful abandon when the big creatures press up against her... it makes her feel oddly whole again to spend time with the lovely animals, even though it's never really enough time with them.

When it's time to go, Freyja sighs and smiles internally to herself. Someday... someday she'll find the right animal to bring along on their adventures -- she just has to be patient, that's all. Just before she's to leave, she'll ask Liam, a little shyly, if she might see the opal necklace he mentioned? If, that is, he still has it around?

Liam grins and gestures for Freyja to follow him. In one of the side-rooms there are piles of slender, velvet- and leather-covered boxes, the kind used for carrying selections of gemstones or jewelry. Some of the boxes are in better condition than others; a few would probably qualify as antiques themselves. After a minute or two of searching -- with Liam going "Where where where, where where where, where where where," -- he finally finds the single box he's been looking for.

It is slender and flat, wider than it is long -- that is, hinged on one of the longer sides. Within is a choker necklace which, truth be told, Freyja has probably seen the equal of, even actually worn, as far as quality goes. The gold is ancient, dulled slightly with age, but the opals have lost none of their luster, forming a double row along the thin gold wire. Tiny droplets of opals dangle from curves of thin gold chain suspended from the lower edges of the choker.

"A little bit on the old side," Liam admits cheerfully, offering the box to Freyja, "but but but, it's of a design you simply won't find on most planets in the Core these days. This particular style went out of fashion some two hundred years ago. Very old, yes yes yes."

Freyja examines the choker, a quiet smile on her face as she gently runs her graceful golden fingers over the smooth cabochons. She picks it up carefully and puts it on, savoring the cool feel of it laying across her slender throat as she silently studies herself in a nearby reflective surface. In the indistinct polished metal she glows a soft, shadowy gold, her hair streaming, blurred flame. The necklace is barely visible as a creamy glistening, an occasional sparkle of rainbow color, about her neck.

Oddly, the blurred reflection and the choker bring back memories of occasional parties where she'd managed to enjoy herself tremendously, at home on Balmorra. Pleasantly remembered dance music drifts through her mind, with the warm scent of glowing candles lighting the room, and her joyous laughter at getting to dance well with a partner... Freyja sighs happily, putting the choker gently back into the box, and smiles at Liam, her eyes aglow with happiness. "Thank you, Liam. I like pretty things... they help me remember good times."

Liam smiles warmly, as he gently closes the box. "You're very very very welcome, Freyja. Yes, I'm glad to have shown it to you. Not many items such as this make their way this far out on the Rim." At about that time, Drang scrambles down from the rafters, cheerfully warbling for attention. The rest of the time passes well, with the usually stand-offish Kugo occasionally padding over to Freyja and Drang to see what's up with this 'attention' thing; apparently the creatures are very different in terms of personality. After a time, it is time for Freyja to return to her training.

It is later, and Freyja's back in the Silver Path's compound. Large pot in arms, she's heading for the quarters assigned to the "green" Jedi. She hopes they'll be willing to take a look at her interesting little plant -- or plants? She's not sure, really... but it doesn't really matter, as long as it or they are healthy and happy. Plus, she's interested to see what the Oghamics think of the Force resonance of the Oghamic lotus, and to watch how they work with plants.

As Freyja paces quietly along, her mind drifts with soft contentment along her 'morning.' Training was successful, unloading supplies for the Silver Path completed, an enjoyable time was spent with Liam and his gyrrons... she smiles to herself, savoring the moments there. Warm-furred, nuzzly beasties; the dim pawn shop with its pleasant, slightly spicy and slightly dusty scent; the cool, rich smoothness of gold against her skin; deep, lustrous inner fire of opal glittering in her fingers...

Freyja's small smile grows slightly with pleasure. She very much likes opals. True, she's more familiar with diamonds, especially considering her sister, but she definitely prefers opals. Diamonds are so cold and hard, and their fire is always borrowed from another source. Opals, on the other hand, may look a simple cream to the distant viewer, but get up close to them and their true, beautiful inner fire flares to life like a rainbow! She grins quietly to herself, realizing the personal comparison she's making, but not refusing it.

A moment later Freyja gets a considering look. Interesting... she thoughtfully realizes she very much enjoyed the sensuality of the lovely piece of jewelry -- but had no desire to own it. Could it be because she has seen -- even owns, back on Balmorra -- much finer? She ponders, then shakes her head slowly. That's not really it... not that she can tell, at least. She'd not realized it previously, but in some ways she guesses she's not terribly materialistic. The jewelry she 'owns' is more something she considers herself holding for her family, rather than anything she feels a need for. She chuckles quietly to herself -- surely that's a good sign; something the Jedi would approve of! She smiles faintly, heading on to find the Oghamics. Her recent insight, while interesting, is merely one revelation among many, she hopes -- and she's on to more interesting things now.

Freyja taps with a light-booted toe against the doorjamb and peeks into the room she spots them in, smiling, "Heiyo? May I ask a favor of you? I have a plant which I'd like to be sure is doing well... if you've a moment?"

Freyja spends an hour or two with the Oghamics. They seem just as happy to see and fuss over her little potted plants, as she was to play with and fuss over the gyrrons. She's pleased her guess about what they might enjoy was correct -- and also that she was able to help them enjoy themselves a little more while here on the almost lifeless, rocky moon orbiting Zhar. They've been busying themselves fussing over lichen and moss and the hydroponics garden, which makes her somewhat wistfully wish there'd been some critters for her to fuss over also. They'd love to study her plants as well. She grins at hearing their request to introduce a full ecosystem in one cave, including some rather nasty stinging insects they insisted were needed to pollinate the flowers, was, regretfully, rejected.

Freyja is fascinated to learn their perspective on the Force is really more like mystic naturalists might have, rather than simply plant-specialists; thus the term 'Oghamics' -- from 'Ogham,' their original alphabet. Sadly, over the course of millennia their tradition lost the bardic and oldive components. She cheerfully chats with them, takes notes on their interesting perspective on life and the Force, and is quite willing to let the plants stay with them for as long as they're here. She figures the plants can only benefit, and will probably thrive, from such concentrated and happily-given care.

At the time of the noonday meal, when Freyja is eating lunch in the communal hall, the Duros Bright Jedi from Diana's company appears at her table. "Excuse me, Padawan Freyja," she says softly. "May I join you for meal?"

Freyja looks up with interest, then grins happily, scooting aside to make room, "Please do! May I ask your name?"

The Duros settles down, placing her tray on the table. "Thank you. My name is Sammiss Tul. I arrived with Paladin Diana's company."

Freyja nods, shifting some crockery aside to make room, "May the Force be with you, Jedi Knight Tul. I noticed you were with Paladin Diana's group. I thought it interesting you were the last, uhm..." she searches for the right word, "'Pure'? 'Bright'? I don't know what to call it... the only white Jedi left?"

The Duros smiles a little and shakes her head. "And also with you, Padawan Freyja, though I... do not think I can be considered a 'knight,' though Jedi I am and likely always will be. I am not entirely a member of her company. I arrived with them after trusting in the Force to rendezvous with them on the border of the Republic."

Freyja looks puzzled, "Er... oh, you sort of drifted in with them? Why were you needing to rendezvous with them?"

Tul considers as she chews a flatbread. "I was... not exactly fleeing, but not exactly on hermitage or on errantry either. I was seeking... something; I am not entirely sure what. Meaning, perhaps. Before I try to explain, may I ask if you have heard any news of the Templars, of late?"

Freyja nods, "Not-" she pauses, looking thoughtful, "Wait, you're searching too? Are you a, um... a 'left' Templar also, like poor Jedi Colburth?" She gets an amused, perplexed look, "I wish I had the right words for this! Maybe more departed than left?"

"Colburth as well? I... see. I am unsure if I should be glad or sad. Colburth's driving desire, if such a thing could be said of Templars, was that he would be a paragon of Jedi virtue and the Code Serenitas." She smiles a little. "Some would call me 'Fallen' Templar, and still others would say Twice-Fallen, though I have not fallen to the Dark. I Fell as a Templar when I wept for a week at the devastation across the front and would not be consoled. It could be said I fell as a Jedi of the Order when I could not keep my oath of loyalty to the Order and refused assignment to a company of the Order militant."

Freyja blinks, a bit shocked... then impulsively reaches out to lightly lay her hand on Sammiss'. Softly she says, "Never let anyone tell you grief at pointless devastation is misplaced, please."

She smiles a bit and squeezes Freyja's hand back. "No... it wasn't misplaced. Not for me, as a servant of the Light. Compassion is as important as serenity. For a Templar, though... it colored everything I did afterwards. Looking back, it is better that I am no longer a Templar, I'm sure."

Freyja thinks for a moment, then says slowly, a little awkwardly, "I... many, many years ago I saw a holovid called 'Hearts and Minds' about a war... a nasty little local war. Who was involved in it isn't important now, but there was a scene... that will always stay with me. A local military officer was interrogating a prisoner while being recorded, and received unexpected news of the death of his entire family at the hands of the enemy. The military officer, utterly shocked, took out his slug thrower and -- and shot the prisoner point blank in the head."

Freyja takes a slow, deep breath, then continues, "I was the only person in the theatre who gasped. At the time I was derided as being overly emotional. I... it took me years to realize what was truly tragic at that moment -- that everyone else there was so utterly inured to depictions of violent death on the vids, that it was not worthy of note -- let alone shock or horror." She looks down at her plate, a bit embarrassed and wondering what made her suddenly remember and reveal that moment. She picks up her eating tools and self-consciously has another bite to eat.

Tul nods quietly. "I understand what you mean. It was not that I wept. There were many Templars who held their emotions under tight control in that time. It was very tense, but many succeeded. I was the only one upon the East Wall who wept, though. It was not that we were supposed to be inured; on the contrary, most of us were not, not to the scale of the front. It was that serenity is the Templar way... and I could not meet that standard." She pauses. "Looking back, I no longer wish to. My destiny, whatever it may be, is not to be a Templar." She smiles. "So tell me, have you news of Jedi Colburth lately? How is he? I know Diana's company did their best to not harm him when they rescued Valsha. What made him... depart the Templars?"

Freyja says a little unhappily, "I... don't know for sure, but I worry sometimes I contributed to Colburth's confusion. We had a discussion at one point where I asked him why anyone should ever trust the Jedi any more, if they were oath breakers... and how could anyone not consider them so, when the Templars were breaking their oaths to never leave Coruscant."

Tul nods a little unhappily also. "And I am supporting that perception, I fear." She sighs. "My hope, then, is that I am an embarrassment swept under the carpet. It is better that way."

Freyja shakes her head, "I understand you may feel that way, but I do not classify them as equivalent. I see a difference in a crisis of faith by one... and a branch of the Order deciding for the entire Order that their desires are more important than the honor of the Order itself. As I noted to Jedi Colburth, if those Templars really wanted to help out, why wouldn't they ask to resign from the Templars, so they could go to war? Instead they simply broke their oaths -- with neh regard for how that would reflect on every other Jedi in the Order!"

Tul nods. "Some have. I know at least three who left. But if one leaves the Templars, they may not become part of a manus again. That is partly why the Senate insists the Templars remain on Coruscant. And the Templars feel the manus is the best weapon against the Sith. I know many Templars who would not break their oath. But... well... there are others who feel their oath as Jedi supercedes their oaths as Templars. Colburth was one of them, though if he is, as you said, confused and 'searching'... well, perhaps he has changed his mind."

Freyja shakes her head quietly, "I do not know, Jedi Tul. All I know is oaths should never be lightly taken up... because they are binding." She adds thoughtfully, "I hope someday to meet Jedi Colburth again. I don't know if it would help him any, but if it would I'd gladly do whatever I could to assist." She smiles, "I'm not sure I agree the manus is the best weapon against the Sith, either. It presupposes we want only to kill them all. Is that the best we can come up with? I certainly hope not." She grins at her friends, adding to Tul, "Some of my best friends are Sith, after all."

"As would I. I have fond memories of him, as he was every bit the exemplar of Templar surety." She also smiles, "I sometimes wonder if the Templars might not be balanced by the hetaerae," then nods, "Yes, I felt their Sithstain, as much as they were trying to mute it, when I saw them. How did you come by to meet them?"

Freyja giggles at Fhazil's raised eyebrow and Vakkal's quietly amused snort, then adds to Tul with a mock sigh, "Sith... can't mute them, can't clean up after them!"

Tul blinks, then laughs quietly even as Vakkal is noting that Fhazil is perfectly housebroken, and Fhazil is noting that Vakkal can chew through most cloth gags. "Does it not make you discomfited, though?" Tul asks. "I cannot speak from experience, but Sithstain sounds... unpleasant to be around for very long."

Freyja laughs aloud at Fhazil and Vakkal's comments! -then turns, still grinning, to Tul, "Well, hai, they're very polite -- they mute most of the time, as far as I can tell." Her grin gets wry as she adds, "They were nice enough to keep their swords with them, too. Ugh, those things reek when the Sith let go of them! I was nearly ill once, near a Sith warlord's sword." She shudders, remembering, "It... stank of corruption. It was vile."

She thinks a moment, then adds quietly, "I... really don't know what will happen when -- not if -- we meet more Sith. I'm trying to figure out a way to create some sort of barrier or mental wall with the Force to keep it at bay... but I'm not there yet." She pauses, then adds curiously, "What do you know of the hetaerae, please? I've been trying to find out more about them." A moment later she adds a bit embarrassedly, "I, ah, met them on Marnaas, but I'm afraid I'm under Order Seal to not speak of that, currently. I'm sorry." She hesitates, then grins and adds cheerfully, "Fhazil isn't, though!"

Tul nods. "We were shown a captured sword that was brought to Coruscant early in the war, but it was destroyed shortly after it was studied." She smiles. "Adept Shan-suub told me of them shortly after I arrived and spoke with him. He is the most Lightsider of the Silver Path, and Paladin Diana and the presbyter both felt it would be good for me to talk with one of like mien. He has been trying to find the hetaerae who remain, the ones who helped him after his Fall and following his Redemption, but they have been very hard to find. In the meantime I have read as much of them as I could."

Freyja gets a curious look, turning to Fhazil and Vakkal, "Hey... what did you guys do with the swords you were carrying?" She adds to Vakkal, "And the lanvarok... what happened to that?"

Both men blink. Vakkal says, "Well... I had one once, but I gave it to Volc after I took up the lightsaber." He grimaces. "Force knows what Volc did with it after he ran. The lanvarok... I still have it but I do not use it; the ammunition for it is hard to manufacture, and moreover distinctive in the extreme."

Freyja nods to Vakkal, then looks curiously at Fhazil, who looks a little sheepish. "Lord Ghang is holding on to it against the day I return. Sort of a physical symbol of the promise I made that I'd come back if even to just visit." He grins a little, "Besides... I know stain is kind of unpleasant to be around. I'm used to the stain of my sword, as is Vakkal, but I know other people probably aren't."

Freyja tilts her head, considering, then smiles, "That's nice. Both that you thought that, and that he's holding it for you."

Fhazil nods. "It's more a symbol, really. Something makes me think that if I ever tried carrying it, Korotatinea would... I don't know, disintegrate it, or something..."

Freyja giggles, "After yelling at you about it first?"

Fhazil chuckles. "Possibly. Either out of jealousy or just because it's in its nature."

Freyja adds cheerfully to her friends and the sabers, Don't get me wrong, guys -- I'm thrilled you're all talking now! To Tul she curiously asks, "So... what have you read about the hetaerae? May I read it also?" Then she grins at Fhazil, "Or maybe just 'cause it thinks those swords are stinky?" She giggles quietly again.

Fhazil rolls his eyes. "That could very well be it, I think. I get the impression Korotatinea is just plain used to wiping out blight and stain."

Tul nods, "Of course. They were among the last of the truly independent traditions which joined the Syncretic Assembly, and had their own identity after it became the Order of Jedi Knights. Much of the Jedi traditions and customs, and outlook on the Lightside, can be traced back to them. They became an unofficial part of the Order some time before the Heresy Wars, and few went on to study the path of the Jedi hetaerae afterwards. They still exist here and there. They are one of the few groups to eschew bringing their Padawans to a praxaeum, I believe, which is part of how they have been able to maintain their identity for so long, I think."

Freyja looks fascinated, "Really now? Goddess, I wish I could find one! I'd love to learn from them. My lightsaber's memnii are of a Camaasi hetaerae, and a lot of what she remembers resonates very strongly for me."

"Yes, I've heard a bit about your lightsabers from others. Adept Shan-suub has more information, I'm sure. Though some of it is tied up in his Redemption."

Freyja smiles a touch ruefully, "Well... that's the sort of thing people tell you when they're ready -- you don't nag them for it, you know? And... we've relatively just met."

The Duros nods. "Yes, Shan-suub is very... close-lipped about his past. He seems to be mildly embarrassed by it, and I understand there may be a Seal involved, as well. I could be wrong, however. I did not pursue it further."

Freyja wonders, "Why embarrassed? Self redemption, I'd think, would be a cause for pride...?"

Tul considers for a moment. "I... believe -- but I am not certain -- his time as a Darksider was not wholly without... incident. I should say no more, since all I have are... rumors, and it would not be fitting to speak such of him."

Freyja nods, "That's fine." She smiles, "Hopefully he'll feel comfortable enough to talk to me sometime soon."

"I am sure he will. You will be here for some time yet, I believe?"

Freyja adds with another quiet smile to the Duros woman, "And... may you also find what you search for, Jedi Tul. As Valsha likes to say, the Force is our best ally." She nods, "Hai, I believe so," then grins at her friends, "Lots of training to do yet!"

Tul inclines her head. "Thank you, Padawan Freyja. I hope to. I will be with the Grey Company for some time, if the Force wills it."

Freyja adds thoughtfully, "If you meet Jedi Colburth before I, please would you give him my best wishes?" Tul assures Freyja she will, should her path cross with Colburth's.


The training progresses over the course of the next several months. In that time, the residency of the refuge remains relatively unchanged; a few persons leave, others arrive. The 'green' Lightsiders, who call themselves Oghamics, depart a few weeks after the group arrived. A pair of Dark Jedi arrive soon after. Quiet and a bit sullen, refugees from both the Order and a Hierarchy that doesn't fully trust them, they do not speak much to the Lightsiders. They appear comfortable enough to keep to themselves and help the technical staff keep the sanctuary's ancient generators running.

Freyja is rather curious about the Fallen Jedi, but thinks they'll approach her if they want. For her to approach them would probably be seen as intrusion -- Jedi are probably not their favorite people currently! Thus the Fallen get smiling politeness if they cross her path, but she doesn't butt into their lives. They don't do much more than smile politely, if coolly, back.

Some days later, Shan-suub has called a break in Freyja's training. Today it has been meditation to focus her ability to summon the Light of the Force as she did on Sedrak. It is unusually wearying, mentally; some forms of meditation can be fairly vigorous and, while properly meditation, are not exactly restful. As Freyja rests, Shan-suub says to her, "Jedi Tul mentioned she had met you a few days ago."

Freyja smiles, "Hai, Master, we chatted over lunch." She looks curious, "She said you'd talked to her also... about hetaerae?"

Shan-suub nods. "Aye, I had. It may be a path of interest to her. The hetaerae would have been a good balance against the Templars, had not their numbers dwindled to a scattered few thousand by the time of the Heresy Wars. I hope to find the ones who helped me after my time within Darkness, and recommend her to them, if she is so inclined."

Freyja grins interestedly, "It's certainly a path that interests me also, Master Shan-suub, considering the original wielder of Kourakani. Do you have anything I could read about them, maybe?"

He nods, settling into a sitting position. "I have some things -- some records which the Silver Path have kept intact. Others I have only in my own head. The fighting style which I teach you, actually, is of the hetaerae, one held by them since the time of the Syncretic Assembly, with some evolvements."

Freyja brightens with interest, "Really? I'm glad to hear that... many of the concepts Kourakani shares with me resonate strongly -- and so does this fighting style." She grins a little wistfully, "It reminds me of dancing. I miss dancing."

Shan-suub smiles a little, nodding. "I had hoped it would resonate with you. You are Lightsider, yet a balanced Lightsider. It is so easy to cleave to the Light blindly." He considers for a moment, perhaps becoming a bit introspective. "It does seem much like dancing. The hetaerae had a long tradition of expressive dance, as I mentioned. Some of the katas I have taught you have stories, histories, encoded in their movements. Still others seem linked closely to the hetaera's connection to the Force. The Camaasi whose memnii you hold... have you ever seen memories of her dancing?"

Freyja brightens, her eyes getting far away, "Oh, hai... a truly lovely one!" In glowing terms she describes that shining moment of pure creation, pure joy... dancing amongst the golden flowers in the newly healed land. She smiles in quiet thought, adding, "My Master encouraged me to question, not to blindly follow." She sighs quietly, adding, "I miss him too. I think you'd like each other."

Shan-suub nods, his eyes seeming to grow distant. "I know that dance," he says softly. "I saw it once, while I was with the hetaerae, and... a Darksider had blighted a river valley." He rouses himself. "There were five dancers that time, not one, but it was still quite a sight." He smiles. "If you speak of Master Roakkana, then he and I met once, though he would not recognize me as I am now, I think."

Freyja's demeanor lights up, "Oh, you know him? You've met?" She laughs, adding, "Funny... everyone here seems to know all about us already, even though we've not said anything. Still, that's nice that you've met. Isn't he wonderful?" There's obvious pride in her voice when describing Master Roakkana, and then she curiously asks, "Were you the Darksider? Why wouldn't Master Roakkana recognize you now?"

Shan-suub smiles a little. "Word travels fast in the refuge." His expression freezes for a moment at her last questions, looking on the verge of collapsing -- and then he recovers. "Yes," he says simply. "I was. And he would not recognize me, for I was armored at the time." He pauses, then reaches up and deftly parts the top of his robe. Beneath there is a wicked scar running across his chest from shoulder to opposite hip; unmistakably left by a lightsaber which did not cut deep enough to do irreparable internal damage... but would still hurt like hell. "A wake-up to me from then-Knight Roakkana. He could have killed me that day; instead he remanded me to the care of seven hetaerae who were on the planet at the time."

Freyja blinks, looking a bit startled at the emotional reaction she unwittingly provoked, half-reaching out before she catches herself. She blinks again at the scar, though, her slender golden fingers reaching out to gently touch. Her demeanor is almost distracted, as if she could 'see' what happened by force of will alone, as she brushes her fingers lightly down the scar, and her voice is a low murmur, almost to herself alone, "So much pain... won't you let it go? Can I help...?" Her mental whisper to Kourakani is sad, He wears it like a badge of shame... is there any way to heal it?

Shan-suub shakes his head, smiling. "I have sometimes considered removing the scar; healing it," he says. "But then I realize there is no ill in having this reminder of my reawakening to the Light. Some revelations must needs be painful, and I will not lie and say Roakkana's was gentle. But awaken me it did. I was burned by the Light because I cleaved too closely to it; and I Fell to Darkness because I felt betrayed by the Light. The scar reminds me I was wrong both times, and that in the cut of that blade the old self died and the new self was reborn."

He says quietly, as he closes the robe, "I did. I let go of my own personal pain -- the arrogance which burned me, the bitterness which consumed me -- and embraced the humility which led me back to the Light. Nothing I do can bring back to life those whose lives I took in that valley. The personal pride I might have is tainted by the path I have taken to reach here. But what I can do is teach what I know, however I can. And I can gain pride in watching the achievements of those whom I have taught, as they reach great and luminous heights. Forgive me; I had not expected such a direct question."

Freyja sits back, tucking her hand into her lap a bit self-consciously. She thinks a moment, then asks quietly, "I... am sorry, but I still don't quite understand what you mean when you say cleaving too closely to the Light will burn you. Could I ask you to explain?" A little sadly she wonders when Shan-suub will finally be at peace with himself about this... that he was shocked by her question, and that he felt the need to explain himself to her before training, says to her he's still hurting, somewhere deep inside. She wishes she could have done something about that... then sighs quietly. Maybe she's just not good enough. Maybe it takes a master, like Master Roakkana or her Camaasi lightsaber/friend, to do things like that.

He nods, sitting as well. "I will try, of course," he says, seeming a bit more at ease. "It has often been said the Dark side is seductive, that giving in to the emotions, the id, is so easy to do, so much more powerful. But for some people... they are not lured by the Dark, but by the Light. They are idealists, dreamers, who do not truly understand the need for Light as well as Dark. To them, the Light must be victorious. And some go further. They abolish every trace of Darkness within themselves. This is beyond even the Templars' Code Serenitas. It is embracing the Light in its every form, abjuring the Dark."

"But the Jedi view of the Light is itself tainted. It relegates most all emotion to the Dark. One who cleaves so tightly to the Light will find their abilities enhanced by the Light many-fold. But it wears upon them quickly. When life and creation and abolishment of the Dark become your every waking thought, your every slumbering dream, it drains you. I awoke one day to find myself alone in a hostel on the edge of the Republic, with letters praising my adherence to the Light, with a baroque lightsaber awarded to me by a Council Master, a memory of victory after victory over Darkness... but not being able to remember even my own name."

Freyja blinks startledly. She can't even conceive of being that lost in the Light! A moment later she wonders quietly and thoughtfully if that is, in effect, what Jedis Colburth and Tul are searching for... some sort of sense of balance or something, within the Light? She wonders right after that if that's what happened to all the part-triats which didn't have a Darksider to balance them. Frightening thought.

Kourakani gently touches Freyja's mind. One cannot be healed unless one wishes to be healed. At the same time, the wound must heal at its own pace. This one wishes to be healed. He has accepted redemption as a being of Light, he has accepted the consequences of his actions, and he uses those actions to fuel his atonement. This is a wound that is healing; you are helping to heal it even now. Not all healing comes in a blaze of light; listen to how he speaks.

Freyja smiles in quiet rue, Wasn't asking for a blaze of Light, silly. Just wanted to ease the pain a little. She sighs softly and a bit resignedly, then reminds herself to pay attention.

He nods quietly at Freyja's expression. "After a few hours of confusion," he says easily, reaching over to the pitcher of water, "I remembered my name, and I realized what had happened. I had almost lost myself completely to the Light, forsaking my own self for its greater glory. But it was an imbalanced glory, I realized. I was angry, I was bitter. I was what is called Burned. And that dusk I Fell, even as the triple suns sank below the horizon."

Freyja wraps her arms around her knees, resting her chin on them as she listens, and tries to imagine being that lost in emotionlessness. She can't... but she tries.

Shan-suub takes a sip of water. "And for a year or two I was a Dark Jedi. I terrorized... it must have been a score of worlds, preaching an inherent meaninglessness to the universe, letting my base and frustrated id have free reign of my Force-awareness. I tolerated nobody who tried to tell me otherwise, and I lashed out at every opportunity. Until finally, on a tiny world on the Outer Rim, a Wookiee Jedi killed the one who was Faragath Ivyrock... and let the one who is Shan-suub Thann live."

Freyja smiles, her eyes bright under her fiery gold bangs. She's not surprised, but still glad to hear her first and foremost Master helped this Master of hers. She considers... maybe she's not able to imagine this well because she's looking at it wrong -- trying to see the Light as all-consuming, when she has too many things in her life that she loves, for the Light to 'eat' her alive like that. So... what if she tried to understand it -- the Falling, at least -- like... like sort of an emotional explosion, as if all her emotions had been bottled up so long they blew out a portion of her brain like a faulty breaker?

Freyja considers for a while, then nods slowly. That she can comprehend. That, in fact, is one of the things she'd puzzledly asked Master Roakkana about, as a possible unhealthy result of such a slavish adherence to attempting to destroy all one's emotions. Shan-suub pauses, then smiles. "Thank you for listening, Freyja. I know it is not an easy thing to grasp without experiencing, and not something I would wish upon anyone to experience."

Freyja smiles again, brushing her bangs absently back with one golden hand, "I don't mind listening, Master Shan-suub. It's interesting. That sort of... emotional blow-out you describe was something I asked Master Roakkana about some time ago. I think that possible result of squashing all one's emotions, instead of being able to find real serenity, was what started me on the path of research about alternate views of the Force."

He nods. "Aye, for the longest time I knew only the Jedi. I had not even comprehended alternative traditions, least of all a tradition such as the hetaerae. I became intrigued by those who could be devout Lightsiders and yet avoid becoming Burned, and how they could be so." He looks to the chrono on the wall, and smiles. "Well, enough break time. Let us return to your studies, and move from meditation to that dance the Camaasi performed to heal that land: the Dance of the Bright Lotus Sun..."

Freyja tilts her head, her smile getting a bit self-conscious, "Well... I guess for me it wasn't ever really a question. I mean, working with animals... after a while the thought of pointless pain is just painful, especially if it's pain in those you care for and feel responsible for." She takes a slow breath, gently tucking away some old memories she doesn't need right now, and adds quietly, "I sometimes think those who purport a fascination for 'evil' have never really experienced true, bloody, messy death... they're like emotional dilettantes, trying to find excitement, and they flee in terror from real evil." At Shan-suub's last words Freyja nods, bouncing lightly to her feet. She's looking forward to learning more of the dancing part of the hetaerae training.


A few days later Freyja is practicing unarmed combat with Shan-Suub -- specifically holds and throws. The throws of this martial art are elegant, creating imbalance in the opponent, using a graceful step and considerable leverage to quickly cast them straight to the ground. It is during one of these throws that Freyja holds onto Shan-suub's robe a bit longer than need be, and as he lands heavily (the breath being expelled from his lungs in a harsh gasp), the top of the robe parts.

But there is no scar there anymore.

Freyja gets a rather surprised look... then doesn't release the robe, instead smoothly turning the throw into a hold so she can get a better look. A moment later she smiles, stepping back and releasing, as his hand slaps the mat. She points at his chest, "Look, Master Shan-suub."

Shan-Suub smiles wryly to Freyja. "Nicely done, Freyja, you've mastered that throw, it seems -- eh?" He frowns a bit and looks down at his chest. He looks at it for several long moments. There is the faintest of discolorations where the scar once ran, but nothing more. Freyja grins cheerfully, her hands clasped behind her back, tremendously pleased.

He looks at his chest for a few moments more. "Fascinating," he murmurs, then looks up to Freyja, smiling. "It seems you've a way with healing, Freyja. And not only of wounds of the body."

Freyja beams, inordinately happy she could help, "Thank you, Master!" She grins, adding, "I just like dancing like the hetaerae, I guess!" Kourakani seems quietly proud at Freyja's touch, though it is hard to define 'pride' in a quasi-life consciousness. Freyja gladly shares her quiet joy with her lightsaber. She's deeply touched Kourakani helped her so -- and by extension, Master Shan-suub as well.


It is a few days later. Vakkal is with Caul; Zero and Fhazil are still in training. Thann has allowed Freyja some time to grab lunch and pursue her research into the ancient schools of hetaerae, while he makes arrangements for the next stage of her training and deals with some more mundane business within the Path. She has just finished and is departing the empty commissary, when from the shadows nearby a soft, sibilant voice says, "Padawan Freyja. A moment of your time?" It is Caul's voice.

Freyja looks around with interest, smiling, "Certes, um..." She suddenly realizes she has no polite title or reference for him! A moment of quick thought, and she courteously tries again, "Certes, Darksider Caul. How may I help you?" That's technically correct, after all, and she's careful her voice has no hint of malice in the hastily created title. She remembers Fhazil mentioning how Lightsiders said the word with such venom. She'd gotten the feeling from him that he found that somewhat painful; she'd rather not do that to someone else.

The Chiss smiles a little from beneath the hood. "Just 'Caul' will do, thank you. May we sit?" He indicates a small alcove just inside the commissary.

Freyja grins a little self-consciously, "All right, Caul it is." She settles comfortably cross-legged next to him, tucking her datapad back into her belt.

Caul sits in the seat near Freyja. "It is, as you may suspect, about your huskarl Vakkal." He even manages to say 'huskarl' with a Southern Balmorran inflection, and Vakkal's name with the curious accent Vakkal's people have.

Freyja raises an eyebrow, "Your accent is excellent, Caul." She smiles, "Both of them, actually. Er... more importantly, is something wrong?" A bit hopefully she adds, "Is he better? I know it really gnaws at him."

"Thank you. I try to properly speak any language I encounter." Caul considers for a moment. "Nothing is wrong, no. During my studies with him I discovered the blight within him which prevents him from healing others -- indeed, it is almost destructive in its urge to not heal. It is deep, extremely deep. It was not placed there by anyone else, least of all any Sith sorcerer. Indeed, he himself placed it there when he killed his brother and father."

"I do not know if you are aware of the details of that incident; he was extremely reluctant to give any, but I entreated him to share as much as he could. Even then, it was fairly difficult; I have not had to psychoanalyze someone in a great, long time. He was utterly horrified by what he had done to his brother. He tried to staunch the bleeding, but even then he was a very good fighter. It felt like hours to him, but it was only minutes, and in the end he failed. It is arguable if he could have done anything to save his brother.

"But the seeds had been sown. When he confronted and defeated his father, he made a conscious decision, no matter how angry or rebellious he felt at the time, to not heal his father. It is said by the Jedi that once the Dark side is allowed hold, forever will it dominate one's destiny. There is the possibility his father could have been saved... but that will never be known. The possibility exists, at least in Vakkal's mind, that he actually used the Force to prevent his father from recovering. I believe an ancient Alderaanian word for this is talion -- the belief that one can cause the death of someone else by wishing it. Usually this is a delusion, but with the Force-awakened, especially the Force-awakened who are not yet trained... well, it is only a possibility. And it has been enough, no matter how deeply he buried it, to have poisoned Vakkal's ability to heal anyone."

Freyja is astonished at the concept of a Dark psychoanalyst -- she hadn't realized Darksiders could heal at all, let alone something as delicate as the sapient mind! A little sadly she nods, "I knew it had to be self-created. He talked to me about what happened, but I'm guessing I just got the rough outline. I didn't press -- he was obviously hurting at the time." She considers a moment, then adds, "Have you been able to help him unbury it?"

Caul sighs a little and puts back his hood to rub the back of his neck. "It... is not easy," he admits. "The hardest part was to get him to recognize that as the source of his blight. I resorted to reliving that experience with him. Normally the mind forgets for a reason, and it is not healthy to revisit old, healed emotional wounds. But in this case the wound still festered, so I felt it was called for. The experience made him withdrawn for a time, but he did rise to the challenge. As you doubtless know, however, it is one thing to say a thing; it is quite another to believe it with every fiber of your being. We are still working on that. I may need to ask you for your help some time in the near future. But that is not entirely why I felt I had to speak with you."

Freyja winces slightly. She has incidents in her past she knows she's deliberately forgotten, and wouldn't care to relive... but nothing like this. Softly she murmurs, "Poor Vakkal... it must've taken great courage to be willing to try that. Certes, I'll help any way I can."

Caul nods. "It did. Not many can do that. The decision is ultimately his, and I believe he knows it already; but you should know this. He is at a decision gate. What he accepts or acknowledges to heal himself will depend upon how closely he cleaves to the Sith tradition. He may come out of this as more of a Sith than before. He may come out of this as much more of a Bright Sith. Either way, he will change subtly from how you know him now. It may not be a dramatic change, mind you. But it will affect very much how he views the world. Shall I explain?"

Freyja bites her lip worriedly and nods slowly, "Please do?"

"His departure from Khar Velos defines him. Part of that definition is that he killed his brother though he tried to save him, then killed his father and did not. The strictest interpretation of Sith dogma -- which only a few Sith stridently adhere to, I should point out -- would have him view his brother and father as persons who sought to impose their will upon him. This is something to resist, and if violence ensued it might be regrettable, but it would be necessary.

"As a Bright Sith he would have regret for both events, and yet recognize there was nothing, in his state of mind and measure of life-experience, he could really have done for his father. Also, he would strive all the harder to ensure such a thing never, ever happens again. The distinctions are subtle, I admit. But you who are close to him would see it. I should point out from what I have seen, that he is leaning mostly towards being a Bright Sith, despite the sundering this would put between him and his Lord."

Freyja takes a slow breath, relieved to hear what Vakkal is mentally leaning towards -- not because it is closer to her own beliefs, but because (to her knowledge) that's the healthiest and happiest state for him to strive towards, within the Force. He's someone who has become extremely dear to her; his happiness is very important to her. A moment later she says puzzledly, "Sundering between him and... who? Do you mean his Sith lord?"

"His Lord. As a so-called 'Bright Sith' he would be considered heretical to the Sith Hierarchy. The Sith way is power, or justice and judgment -- 'severity' through emotions -- just as the Jedi way is generally compassion or 'mercy' through serenity. So too is the way of the Dark Jedi, in a nutshell. Between utter rebellion against the Order, all the way to power through serenity, is the Bright Sith way: compassion through emotions.

"In both the Dark Jedi and Bright Sith cases, they are antithetical to their parent tradition. In the Empire Bright Sith are just barely tolerated. Traditionally the ones who choose the Bright path are heterodox in the extreme, and while they are treated better than Dark Jedi, their lot is not comfortable. Lord Ghang would invariably, however reluctantly, have to consider Vakkal no longer his apprentice. Though I daresay at this point Vakkal would welcome that release, so as to not only free his former lord from any stigma but to also find his own way in the Force."

Freyja blinks, listening in fascination. The path of the Bright Sith sounds very much like how she's been mentally categorizing the Lightsider path she's been trying to find and follow. Thoughtfully she wonders if Lord Ghang would really prefer to continue considering Vakkal his apprentice, just as Master Roakkana is able to continue considering her his. She sighs quietly, torn between worry and relief for Vakkal, more worry combined with relief that her own Master is proud of her and doesn't feel the need to cast her off, but may suffer for that... and a touch of pity for the Sith warlord Ghang.

Caul says, "I admit, those are gross oversimplifications on my part. However, the subtleties between Jedi, Sith, Bright Sith, and Dark Jedi would take... several hours to discuss in any detail."

Freyja nods slowly, still considering deeply, "Perhaps sometime in the future, I would love to do so, Caul... but I think right now is not the best time for this."

The Chiss nods. "Of course. I felt you needed to know this, however. He is extremely loyal to you."

Freyja sighs quietly again, "All right. So this is a turning point for Vakkal, in that he must either stay personally injured but still an apprentice of his Sith lord... or heal himself but have his Sith lord turn from him." She smiles quietly, touched at Caul's words, then asks the necessary question, "I know; he's been quite an inspiration to me. I must ask, though... is that loyalty helping or hurting him right now, at this turning point in his life?"

Caul considers, then shakes his head. "I cannot answer that. If he chooses the path of the traditional Sith, it could hurt him... but if he chooses the path of the Bright Sith it will help him. The Bright Sith tend to be driven by external causes, while the traditional Sith are driven by internal needs. Speaking entirely analytically, his loyalty to you and his imperative to protect you, as part of his mandate as a huskarl, is much of what is leading him towards the Bright path."

"It will cause some time of torn loyalties for him; he is truly fond of Lord Ghang and his Brother Fhazil Taas. But Lord Ghang's remoteness, and Fhazil Taas' attraction to and interest in you, is helping make the transition to Bright Sith easier and more attractive. He is seeing right now he has less to lose by that path -- and much, much more to gain -- than by taking the traditional Sith path."

Freyja nods slowly again, unsurprised by that information. In a way, she's very glad the Sith lord Ghang is remote. She's not sure whether he'd approve of the triat, or the path her dear friends are embarking on... and she doesn't want to lose them. Plus, from what Vakkal's said, the Sith lord Ghang has an oath to the people of Khar Velos concerning Vakkal's disposition. The metaphysical 'death' of the old Vakkal, and the ensuing 'birth' of this new Vakkal on this strange new path, would hopefully be an acceptable resolution of that oath for the Darksider warlord. She hopes so, at least. She's been worrying about how to handle that, for when they finally meet Ghang.

Freyja takes a deep breath and nods again, more firmly this time, "All right, I think I understand. So... what can I do now to help?"

"Shortly he will reach a crisis point. He will begin to come to grips with what he has done and how he should feel about it. Right now the death of his brother and father are still remote, despite the reliving of it. In a short time -- a day or perhaps two -- it will fully hit him as to what took place. Knowing his personal courage, he will immediately decide he must approach that knowledge, in one way or another.

"I would ask you -- you three, if possible, for Fhazil is his brother, and he has fondness and kinship with Zero as well -- to be there with him, because this is not an easy thing. I too feel his best destiny is that of a Bright Sith. You can help him in that transition. And you can help him afterwards as well, since no Sith, save perhaps Fhazil Taas, will be able to view him in quite the same way again."

Freyja nods unhesitatingly, "We'll be there." She adds a bit worriedly, "Um... is there anything in particular we should do, or say, or bring? What does he need?"

Caul nods, "Thank you." He leans back, letting out a breath. "As I said," he says wryly, "it has been quite some time since I've had to do this. The best thing to bring is yourselves. What he needs is you. Keep in mind that you are his cause; your safety is his goal, strengthened by your friendship. The path of the Bright Sith is extroverted; let him express himself as such. Be patient. It is not a dramatic decision -- one that will change his life in a moment -- but rather over the course of days or weeks. Most importantly, though, be there for him when you find he has reached that moment of crisis."

Freyja smiles, quietly relieved. "That I can do. And I'm sure Fhazil and Zero will feel the same." She pauses, then asks a bit puzzledly, "Er... if it is not rude to ask, what precisely was it you did? And if it's so helpful to people... why did you stop? Or... did you get burned out too? Er... or whatever the equivalent is for Darksiders?"

"'Tis well to hear. Vakkal has good friends." Caul smiles a little. "On my home world I started as a psychologist, but later joined a lodge of magicians -- sorcerers; Lightsiders all. At first I was intrigued by the psychological archetypes I found amongst the ceremonies, but later when I discovered there truly was something to what they were doing, I devoted much of my life to studies. When I came up for air, so to speak, I found my life in shambles, my credit nonexistent, my fiancée married to another. And when the masters of my order would teach me no more... I left and sought out knowledge on my own."

Freyja looks more puzzled, "Er... did you say they were all Lightsiders?" She adds thoughtfully, "I can certainly understand being intrigued by the psychological archetypes." She grins, "The cultural ramifications are occasionally rather distractingly fascinating too."

He nods. "Aye, they were Lightsiders. I imagine somewhere between the time I left my home world and when I arrived at the Bendu monastery I had become a Darksider, at least in outlook and mien. The abbot was the first to call me 'Darksider.'" He smiles. "It is fascinating. The similarities between Force traditions are more stunning than the differences."

Freyja nods emphatically, "Hai, aren't they, though? I find myself wondering sometimes how we could have gotten so... so binary, so split. How could we have forgotten we're all part of the same Force?" She pauses, then adds slowly, "The Bendu... interesting, so they'll help Light and Darksiders both? I'll have to remember that -- that's good to know." Curiously she adds, "How do you mean, Darksider in mien? What happened?"

"Not all adhere to Lightside-Darkside. That is only the most prevalent distinction, courtesy of the Jedi. The pentanery traditions are quite intriguing..." He shrugs a little. "I imagine somewhere along the line my focus became interior. My last few months on my home world certainly did not grant me much faith in relying on the support of my fellow sentients. After leaving, I found a galaxy I had never explored and did not understand. While I would ask for help, I did all I could to not rely on that help. And I make no apologies for the fact that my studies have been entirely for my own enlightenment."

Freyja looks puzzled, "Pentanery? Define, please?"

"Fivefold. Instead of a Lightside and a Darkside, they have a fivefold view of the Force. They're very rare, however, only found in the gal-northwest regions."

Freyja's puzzlement changes to bemused fascination, "Five...? How does that work?" She considers... if it follows what she knows so far, then there's Jedi, Dark Jedi, Sith, Bright Sith, and Greysiders. That doesn't seem right, though, somehow... it feels a bit unbalanced to her.

Caul smiles. "It varies somewhat. The most prevalent schools of thought teach of five urges: a Primurge of creation, a Malurge of destruction, a Sanurge of mercy, a Demiurge of change, and a Valurge of severity. Each has their place in balancing the ways and means of the universe. Of course, other schools have even more unusual attributions."

Freyja huhs in quiet fascination, considering... then smiles, "It is fascinating... but I'm not sure I'd want to split out mercy or severity quite so strongly. Still, it's not like I know much about them. I might change my mind after more study." She grins, suddenly enormously pleased at Caul's actions, "And may I add, please, that I am terribly grateful for your kindness to Vakkal? Is there anything I can do for you in thanks?"

Caul starts to shakes his head, then pauses. "Am I correct," he says, "in remembering a tradition that one may ask if a boon might be granted at a later time?

Freyja laughs softly, then shakes her head, smiling, "I've neh idea, Caul. I'm simply offering, in essence, the hand of friendship." She pauses, considering, then adds, "There is a tradition of hosting and guesting ritual where I come from, though." She smiles, "You would certainly be welcome as a guest wherever I had roof over my head and bread and wine to share."

Caul inclines his head. "Thank you. It has been a long time since I traveled through Balmorra Sector. I may head in that direction again, sometime in the future."

Freyja considers, then says, "Do you know the rituals to be a guest of a Haus there?"

"I am only passingly familiar with them. Are they similar to the Alderaanian traditions?"

Freyja says, "They're pretty simple, and mutually obligatory. If you state the words of guest-right, they're honor-bound to let you in, and you're honor-bound to observe the responsibilities of a good guest. Alternatively, if they've shared their bread and wine with you, you're honor-bound to observe the responsibilities of a guest, just as they must remain good hosts." She grins, "Make sense? It's been a long time since they were common practice, but they still hold sway, and they're still a point of Haus honor, I know."

Caul nods. "Yes, it does. Very similar to the old forms of Alderaan and Corulag."

Freyja nods, "All right. Don't forget to tell them also the Arving names you healer of her huskarl... and if they don't believe I couldn't heal him myself, tell the Baron or Baroness specifically I needed help -- because he rides a darker slaypneer than I." She grins, "I know it may not make sense now, but they'll understand. Just making sure, in case you come to my Haus while I'm not there!"

"I will so remember. And thank you."

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