A Long Time Ago, in a Galaxy Far Far Away...

  The galaxy stands in a golden era of peace and prosperity. With the Sith Empire long defeated, the Jedi Order stands as guardians of the Light, charged with preserving balance in the Force and safeguarding the Republic from threats within and without.

  Across the frontier, ancient worlds are rediscovered. Lost ruins are unearthed. Fragments of forgotten history are cataloged and brought into the light of understanding.

  Yet beneath that balance, truths have been buried. Some records fade. Some knowledge is set aside. Ancient histories erased. Questions left unanswered.

  As the Republic looks forward to a boundless future, the Jedi continue their work — keeping the peace, seeking harmony, and trusting that balance, once achieved, will remain.

  The sound of lightsabers clashing rang through the valley, echoing from stone to stone until it carried far beyond the ruins themselves. Anyone approaching would hear it long before they arrived — the sharp hiss of plasma meeting plasma, the grunts and breathy growls of exertion that followed each exchange.

  One of the knights was tall, sandy blond hair plastered to his brow with sweat, his broad shoulders and solid frame built for endurance more than speed. The other was shorter, her white hair pulled back from a face of deep cerulean skin, the faint geometric markings of a Pantoran standing out sharply against the flush of exertion. Where she lashed and lunged and kicked, he blocked, parried, chambered — striking only in brief, precise bursts when opportunity presented itself.

  “You leave yourself open too often, committing before you can feel the outcome.” he said.

  Her answer was a sudden flurry of attacks, fast enough to deny him the space he needed to exploit any opening. He gave ground deliberately, his boots scuffing across the ancient stone dueling pad, letting her advance, letting her extend.

  Then he moved.

  With a single smooth motion, he turned aside her blade and flowed into a counterattack. She was forced back, stumbling as she struggled to regain her footing, her breath coming sharp and quick. He pressed the advantage, closing the distance until they were nearly chest to chest, their ignited blades the only thing keeping them apart.

  His foot hooked behind her ankle. She went down with a yelp, landing hard on her back.

  He leveled his saber at her throat.

  “It’s over,” Kael said. “Yield.”

  For a moment she stared at her legs tangled beneath her, then shook her head. A chuckle escaped her, soft at first — then a giggle, then a full laugh as she raised her hands in surrender.

  “Alright, Kael,” she said between breaths. “You win. Again.”

  Kael tried — and failed — to suppress his own smile. He extinguished his blade and offered her a hand; soon they were laughing together as he pulled her back to her feet.

  “Have we answered your question, then?” Kael asked. “Can we get back to work?”

  “Blast,” she said, leaning into him, the cool blue of her skin contrasting with the warmth of his robes. “I was too focused on those deep blue eyes of yours and forgot all about it.”

  Kael glanced around, suddenly self-conscious.

  “Kael Karthis,” she said, amused. “We’re alone. The locals don’t go anywhere near this place, and we’re the only Jedi on Eliovar. Can you relax and stop being so paranoid for a few moments?”

  “The villagers might come to watch,” he said. “They could’ve heard the noise.”

  “And so what if they did?” she shot back. “What are they going to do — tattle to the Council?”

  “They could.”

  Vyra groaned. “Oh, for— relax. Please. We have this whole dig site to ourselves. It’s just you and me.”

  Her hands traced the fabric of his robes, sliding up his back. Kael felt his muscles ease beneath her touch. He turned to face her, hazel eyes locking with hers. He smiled softly.

  “We still have work to do.”

  Vyra let out an exaggerated groan and pulled away from him.

  “Fine,” she said. “We’ll do things your way, Professor.”

  She stepped off the ledge and dropped into the excavation shaft, vanishing into the darkness with a soft whoosh of robes. Kael followed a heartbeat later. They descended together, slowing their fall with the Force before landing lightly on the ancient stone below.

  Kael retrieved his tools while Vyra drew a datapad and stylus from her robes, already absorbed in the inscriptions carved into the chamber walls. The pale light reflected off her skin as she worked, tracing the lines carefully, recording them as they appeared on the column — pausing, circling back, annotating as patterns and context began to emerge. The work was still more art than science.

  As best she could determine, the chamber had once served as a records hall for an ancient Jedi temple — one that predated the Republic itself. Most of the inscriptions were mundane: names, dates, lines of succession. But scattered among them were accounts of great deeds and fragments of stories long since lost.

  Vyra loved that part of the work. She was always the first to read words forgotten by history. Kael would always be the second, when she recounted them beside the fire at night.

  She was midway through recording another entry when she paused.

  “Kael,” she said, frowning. “Did you chip away part of this inscription?”

  “Hmm?” He looked up from his tools. “No. I haven’t even used my chisel today. Why?”

  “A name has been scraped off here.”

  Kael stepped closer. “You did say this place is over twenty-five thousand years old. It was probably occupied until a few thousand years ago. Something could have happened to it in that time.”

  Vyra shook her head. “Maybe. But this was done deliberately. Just the name. The date is intact. Everything around it is untouched.” She traced the empty space with her stylus. “It’s like someone erased it.”

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  “Why would anyone erase a Master’s name?”

  Vyra hesitated.

  “Shame,” she said finally. “This lines up with one of the early civil wars within the Order. Maybe that Master fell.”

  Kael glanced back at the blank space.

  “Fell… how?”

  Vyra didn’t look at him.

  “Perhaps,” she said quietly, “they became… something else.”

  Kael frowned. “You’re suggesting a Master became Sith.”

  “Is that so unusual?” Vyra asked. “Masters have fallen before, and may fall again—”

  Kael raised a hand. “Don’t say it.”

  Vyra scoffed, exasperated. “Oh, come now. Saying a Master can fall to the dark side isn’t forbidden. If we’re meant to guard against something, we should at least acknowledge the possibility.”

  “To fall to the dark side is one thing,” Kael said. “To become Sith is another. The Sith are destroyed. They cannot return. That is what the Order guards against.”

  Vyra tilted her head. “Aren’t absolutes the very language of the Sith? If we say something cannot happen—”

  “Fine,” Kael cut in. “Then it cannot be allowed to happen. But please—be careful who you say such things to. I know you intend no heresy, but you know how others might hear it.”

  “The Order should be a place of debate,” Vyra said. “Why should any topic be forbidden? If the Light is truth, then it should be defensible against any accusation.”

  Kael shook his head. “The danger isn’t that doctrine can’t withstand questions. It’s that questions can be manipulated. Even when someone only wants to talk, ideas are dangerous. We’re speaking of the dark side. Manipulation is in its nature.”

  Vyra folded her arms. “We exist to preserve and restore knowledge. Why can we be trusted with truths others cannot?”

  “Because we’ve been trained,” Kael replied. “Informed. We understand context. We’re better equipped to guard against corruption than the uninitiated.”

  Vyra studied him for a moment.

  “Then answer me this,” she said. “Why is the dark side evil?”

  Kael didn’t answer.

  “Come on, Kal,” she pressed gently. “You’re as educated as I am. Why is the dark side so inherently evil that it must be forbidden? Because I don’t have an answer.”

  “Because it’s used to kill,” Kael said at last. “To control. To abuse—”

  “No,” Vyra interrupted. “Not why the people who use it are evil. Why is the dark side itself evil?”

  Kael hesitated. “Because it runs counter to every value the Order holds. It draws on anger, passion—”

  “Like our passion?”

  Kael fell silent. He felt the flow of the Force shift around them. A slight tug and push towards her.

  “I don’t draw on us to use the Force,” he said finally.

  Vyra opened her mouth to respond.

  The holocommunicator in Kael’s pocket chimed.

  Almost invisibly, Kael shifted. Vyra noticed. She saw the slight rise in his chest, his shoulders pulling back — a release of tension. Relief.

  Kael drew out the communicator and activated it. A small hologram of the system governor shimmered into existence.

  “Governor Iban. What can I do for you?” The image of the Mirialan flickered as the man fidgeted.

  “Master Jedi, I fear there has been an incident on the moon of Jexal.”

  “What kind of incident?”

  “Some pirates. They attacked a frontier town and were raiding the place. The local militia tried to stop them but they retreated into one of the manors and fortified the place. The Militia men have them surrounded but… Please come help. We aren’t equip for this kind of thing.”

  “Don’t worry Governor. We will be there shortly.”

  “Thank you master Jedi. Please hurry!” The image of Governor Iban flickered and faded away. Kael looked at Vyra and shrugged

  “Duty calls us I’m afraid. We’ll have to resume this later.”

  Vyra rolled her eyes at him before starting for the exit.

  “You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?”

  Their ship, the Wayfarer, passed over the manor and circled once.

  Vyra was at the controls, focused on the descent. Kael stood behind her, looking out through the viewport at the estate below.

  “Big place,” he observed. “For a small pirate band to hold.”

  “Which means a lot of space to fall back and maneuver,” Vyra replied without looking up.

  Kael nodded. It was a fair assessment — and she was the better strategist.

  Vyra set them down behind what she identified as the militia’s command post. As the ramp lowered, a militiaman hurried toward them at a jog, skidding to a halt and snapping into a salute.

  “Masters Jedi— thank the stars you’re here,” he said. “Commander Rysa Halvek. We have the pirates surrounded, but we can’t approach. We tried earlier — they shot three of my people.”

  “Of course, Commander,” Kael said gently. “And please — neither of us is a Master. I’m Jedi Knight Kael, and this is Jedi Knight Vyra.”

  Halvek blinked, embarrassed, then nodded.

  “Has anyone attempted communication?” Kael asked. “Tried to speak with them?”

  “Talk to them?” Halvek echoed, genuinely baffled. “They’re pirates. They’ve raided this moon three times already. What they want is to pillage and plunder. Now that we finally have them cornered, I’m not letting them slip away.”

  “No one is suggesting that,” Vyra cut in smoothly. “But has an offer of surrender been made?”

  Halvek hesitated. “No. Why would they surrender?”

  “Because even pirates prefer to live,” Kael said.

  “Well, some do,” Vyra said.

  “Vyra and I can attempt negotiations.” Kael continued

  The commander shifted, uncertain, but finally nodded.

  “As you see fit, m—” He caught himself. “Knight Kael. How do you plan to get in?”

  Vyra shrugged “I figured we could walk up the garden path and knock on the front door.”

  Kael and Vyra shed their outer robes and approached the manor, Kael in the lead, Vyra a step behind and to his right. They moved at an even pace, unhurried, their sabers clipped plainly at their belts.

  They were halfway across the front garden when a voice called down from a balcony window.

  “That’s far enough. Stop right there, Jedi.”

  They complied. Kael halted first. Vyra stopped with him.

  Kael raised his hands slowly, palms open. “We just want to talk.”

  The Weequay pirate laughed, the sound sharp and humorless.

  “Talk? About what? I’m not much for philosophy.”

  “About your surrender,” Kael said calmly. “The militia has you surrounded, but this doesn’t have to end in blood. Come down to the front door. We can discuss this.”

  There was a pause. Then the pirate leaned forward, resting his arms on the balcony rail.

  “I’ll give you this — you’ve got nerve. So how about this?” He gestured downward. “You leave your fancy glow-sticks on the ground, and then we’ll talk.”

  Kael didn’t hesitate.

  “We’re not going to do that,” he said. “For the same reason I won’t ask you to surrender your weapons yet.”

  The pirate frowned.

  “Come down,” Kael continued. “Let us approach. We talk as equals.”

  Vyra shifted her weight almost imperceptibly. Kael took note of the constantly shifting curtains. There were certainly enough angles to get shot from here.

  “Fine,” the pirate called down. “But the first rule of negotiation is compromise. You can come up to the porch, and my men will open the doors while I stay in the entryway. Deal?”

  “Deal,” Kael said. “See? We’re making progress already.”

  The Weequay disappeared from the window with a sneer. A beat later, Kael and Vyra resumed their approach to the front doors.