“Not only is war our father, but he's also our son. We have raised him, just as he has us. We have been hammered and chiseled, but we are also those who know how to swing the hammer and wield the chisel, we are both blacksmiths and hot steel at the same time, martyrs of our own deeds, driven by impulses.” - Ernst Junger, War As An Inner Experience.

  xRSxxRSxxRSx

  I was adrift, carried along a cold stream and I could not see where I was. Whispers, deft touches, and vaguely familiar but distant voices reached my ears. Trying to open my eyes, to sense around me, I felt a brush of something. With effort, I pressed forward with a rudimentary probe of the Force, and I saw… me?

  The cold was chased away, warmth wrapping around me in only black strands of rippling shadow and flame, and I saw myself, legs crossed and surrounded by flame, pieces of metal and a glowing orange and black crystal hovering in front of me.

  Was this, suppose to be me forging my saber?

  As soon as I thought that, the vision was already gone and my eyes opened.

  xRSxxRSxxRSx

  The first thing that registered in my mind was pain, my breath catching and I let out a weak gasp of pain. A brief attempt to sit up was aborted when my limbs simply refused to respond, and my teeth clocked repeatedly as I shivered from the overwhelming pain coming from the left side of my chest and my back.

  “Suit HUD, Health status.” I muttered weakly, my armour system reading my injuries and displayed them on my HUD.

  “Fuck me.” I had multiple broken ribs on my left side, some vertebrae cracked, and a fracture that climbed up from almost my wrist to my elbow on my left arm, and a perforated lung which explained the blood I had coughed up.

  With a herculean effort, I managed to grab ahold of the Force and as it flowed through me, it was like a balm on my body. The pain faded enough where I didn't feel like I was dying, and I reached for my utility belt, grabbing the small canister with some bactade and set it on my leg.

  Propping myself on my good arm, I hissed as I forced myself up into a sitting position, my ribs and back flaring in pain. Taking a few seconds to let the dizziness subside, I pulled my helmet off and winced at how bright everything was. I then grabbed the canister, popped the lid off with my thumb, and gulped half the thing, about 3 doses, and coughed a bit at the chalky taste but succeeded in keeping it down.

  Putting the lid back on, I just kept it in my hand and laid back down. If I waited long enough, maybe I'd feel like I wasn't halfway dying. I kept my death grip on the Force, bolstering myself and helping to suppress the pain of my injuries, and waited until I finally mustered the energy to put my helmet back on.

  With me finally getting it on, I read the time on the HUD and saw that I had been passed out for almost 6 hours, which explained why it was slowly getting brighter throughout me struggling to get up. I continued to lay there, meditating lightly to hopefully help with my injuries enough to act as a rudimentary patch job. Unfortunately, Malgus was not the kind to be able to teach healing, and he was a brute without the greater knowledge of Dark Side Healing. So, I was stuck with accelerating my natural healing a bit, mostly to ward off more blood from spilling into my lung if I moved too much.

  After laying there and white knuckling it until it was nearly nightfall and I could feel that the bactade and meditation had taken some of the edge off, I opened my eyes once again, feeling somewhat better.

  With a groan, I forced myself to my feet, glad that my legs hadn't been severely injured, and any bruising or soreness was drowned out by how much everything else hurt. I appraised my surroundings both through the Force and my own eyes, not sensing or seeing anything around.

  Evidently, the giant fucking corpse and probably easily a couple mile radius of blown up or damaged jungle did a good job at scaring off predators and prey.

  I looked at the corpse, focusing on its head. The jaw was opened in a death snarl, the flesh blackened from the blast. The burnt out hole in its gut was a mess of purple and black, and I could see that my beskad was still jammed in the thing's eye socket.

  I walked slowly to it, mindful of my steps so I didn't fall. My boots sank slightly into the torn up ground and I kept at it, reaching its head and I wrapped my hand around the hilt of my blade, pulling firmly.

  It didn't come loose.

  Cursing under my breath, I tensed and jerked harder, gritting my teeth when it jostled my side and the blade came free with a wet slick sound, dripping tar-like blood. I wiped as much of it as I could on its face, then sheathed it on my back.

  My head cocked to the side as I inspected the creature again. I truly had no idea what it was, but it was definitely a proud quarry. Perhaps Malgus may know.

  Thinking it over for a few moments, I reached for the Holocron on my hip, pulled it from the protective container, and sat down on the ground, flicking my fingers in a shifting gesture and reaching out with the Force to open it.

  The Holocron opened and a wave of controlled fury poured from it, and the shade of Malgus took form in front of me.

  He appraised me for a moment, eyes stained by the Dark Side looking at me up and down. “You are injured.” He observed.

  “I will live.” I replied, my helmeted head tilting to the right. “I have completed one of my major tasks of my Verd'goten, but I don't know what this creature is. Any ideas?”

  The emotion I felt slip through the multiple layers of fury, spite, and bloodlust as Malgus turned to look was one I would not have expected at all.

  Surprise.

  “That,” He said slowly, voice practically scraping against my eardrums, “Is a Sith Wyrm.”

  That… what?! Wasn't… was there not just only one or something? Unless… the memories were too fuzzy to recall.

  Blinking for a moment to gather myself, I stared at the corpse of the slain wyrm. The vague memories I had of such abominations crafted by the sith was that they were Jedi killers, extremely dangerous creatures that were hard to kill.

  And I could attest to that along with all the injuries that still made their presence known every time I took a breath.

  “It is surprising to survive such a beast with so little training.” Malgus stated, sounding almost like a compliment. “And you managed to kill it.”

  Not through easy means. The stupid thing nearly killed me, and I was still hurting immensely. I needed to consult Malgus once more, about a possibility of getting ahold of a crystal for my saber.

  “I have the parts necessary for my saber save for the crystal.” I stated at him, not to him. “I will not content myself with an inferior crystal like adegan. I know of a volcano on this rock, any idea if this place would have lava crystals?”

  Those, alongside Ghostfire crystals, were a couple of the select few alternative crystals I could recall that were exceptional enough to remember. I recalled that lava blades were heavier, and Ghostfire blades were nearly invisible and made no sound, but that was about it.

  Malgus turned his gaze back to me and I met it with my own. “Likely. Make your way to the volcano and I shall guide you in how to forge your lightsaber. Do not fail, my apprentice.”

  With that, his presence pulled back into the Holocron and I was left to myself. Glancing around, I debated heading there now. But just as quickly as I considered it, I dismissed it because I was still hurting badly.

  I remained on the ground and tapped my left bracer, the 3D holographic layout of this area of the planet coming up. Scrolling northward, I found Borundi and Nicolo Peaks, the latter the target of my interest.

  The map showed rocky slopes, volcanic vents, the kind of place where lava crystals might form. I studied the route, marking waypoints, the hologram flickering in the fading light. The Wyrm's corpse lay a few meters away, its black ichor pooling in the mud, the smell metallic and rotten.

  I'd come back for it, but first, I needed to heal a bit first though.

  I sat back down after walking several yards away, the ground soft under my armor, and leaned against a nearby tree, or at least the remnants of one, the bark rough against my back. Pain throbbed in my side with each breath, a dull fire that the Force kept at bay but couldn't erase. My ribs still felt like shattered glass, shifting with every movement, the fracture in my arm a sharp ache that radiated up to my shoulder. The fight had taken its toll. I breathed slow, letting the Force flow through me, a cool stream easing the edges.

  I reached for my utility belt, pulling out the canister of bactade again. I popped the lid, the chalky smell hitting me like dust, and downed another dose, the liquid thick on my tongue, coating my throat. I swallowed, coughing lightly as it went down, the taste lingering, bitter and chemical. I set the canister aside on the mud, the lid clicking shut. The bactade would work fast, knitting tissue, but it needed time.

  Then I grabbed a bacta pill from my medkit, the small case snapping open with a flick of my thumb. The pill was white, smooth, the size of a thumbnail. I dry-swallowed it, the capsule bitter as it stuck briefly in my throat, then slid down. The effects would take time, but combined with the bactade, it would knit my ribs enough to move without gasping. I leaned my head back against the tree, the rough texture grounding me, and closed my eyes.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  I drew a slow breath, focusing on the Force. It flowed through me, a cool current easing the ache, my will imposing order on the chaos of my injuries. The jungle's sounds wrapped around me, the distant call of birds settling for the night and the rustle of leaves in the wind, the faint hum of insects swarming near water. I let my thoughts still, the Force sharpening my mind, bolstering my body. Meditation came easier now, the practice honed from hours under Malgus' guidance. Time blurred, hours passing in a trance, the night deepening as I held the connection. Pain faded to a whisper, my ribs mending slowly, the fracture in my arm dulling to a throb. The Force kept me alert, no sleep needed, its energy a shield against the dark, warding off the jungle's nocturnal threats.

  Dawn finally broke, the sky lightening to gray, the jungle stirring with morning sounds. My arm was stiff but usable, the bones holding under the bacta's somewhat repair. I stood, testing my balance on the soft ground, my boots sinking slightly. The bacta and meditation had done their work, the pain manageable now.

  I checked my gear, everything secure that I had left, my blaster holstered, beskad sheathed, Holocron and beacon in their pouch, and my remaining rations and water in my satchel. I tapped my bracer to mark the current location, the hologram blinking as it saved the coordinates.

  The Wyrm's corpse was still untouched, its massive form unmoving and black ichor now thickened from the air pooling. I'd harvest parts later. But the trial pushed me on, the Force's pull toward Nicolo Peak stronger than before.

  I headed north toward Nicolo Peak, moving quickly for a regular person, the Force holding me together, enhancing my strides to cover ground without strain. My boots crunched through underbrush, vines parting as I pushed through with my beskad when needed, the blade parting things with ease.

  I continued to jump over roots, the Force guiding my path to avoid slips. Hours passed, the sun climbed higher, the mist building up from the heat and my armour kept me cool thankfully, the mugginess not a problem. Sweat beaded on my skin, but the Force cooled me from within, keeping fatigue at bay, my breaths even as I pressed on.

  The jungle gave way to rocky inclines, the ground harder underfoot, loose stones skittering with each step. Pain flared in my ribs with each jump now, a sharp stab that made me grit my teeth, but I gritted through it, the bacta working slowly to mend the cracks. The air changed, tinged with sulfur as I closed in on the volcano.

  Nicolo Peak loomed ahead, its slopes dark and jagged, the pull of the Force a steady tug toward its core, the crystals waiting in the lava flows.

  Yes, I was sure there was one there.

  I kept moving, my need demanding I press on, the peak drawing closer with each stride. The jungle fell behind, and the rocks under my boots became hotter and hotter, the air itself shimmering in places where heat bubbled up from the volcano. I was close now, the trial's next step within reach.

  xRSxxRSxxRSx

  'I wonder if anyone has ever jerked it into this volcano,’ I thought to myself, gazing down at the broiling and frothing mass of molten earth that churned several hundred yards down from me.

  The lava seethed like the blood of the world itself, bubbling with ancient fury, a cauldron where creation and destruction danced in an eternal embrace. The climb had been annoying, but easy enough when I dug deeper into the Force and numbed my injuries, letting its cool current flow through the fractured bones and torn muscles, and was a temporary veil over the pain that gnawed like a living thing. My armour kept me protected and insulated from both the blistering heat and the toxic air that rose in acrid waves, so I was more than ready.

  Going over to a particularly stout boulder nearly the size of a speeder to my left, I hooked my grappling cable to it, wrapping it around the rough surface with deliberate turns, the line's whisper-thin strength a marvel of engineering that I still sometimes struggled to fathom. I drove the spike through it with a sharp thrust, the metal biting deep into stone, securing my lifeline against the abyss. It was ridiculously strong for something only a few hairs thick, a thread of fate spun from durasteel, and I hooked it to my belt, the mechanism whirring slightly as it clamped in place, locking me to the world above while I descended into the inferno.

  Unlike Zeke, I wasn't a damned idiot and I wasn't going to go tumbling into a certain death, for folly in this situation was not mere mistake but a surrender to chaos and a betrayal of the sense that had carried me from the arenas, through Mando training, and finally to this volcanic maw.

  With that all done, I tossed my rations up top and other things that would be vulnerable to temperature, including the satchel of water, my blaster, items too fragile for the forge's breath, but kept the Holocron, and grinned ferally under my helmet as I made my way down the steep decline into the heart of fire and death.

  It started out easy enough, my armour keeping me perfectly cool and pleasant as I slowly rappelled down into the fiery depths, the cable feeding out with a soft whir, my boots finding purchase on ledges of blackened rock that crumbled slightly under pressure.

  It was when I got halfway down that I felt a slight temperature change, though still perfectly fine, a subtle shift like the first whisper of a storm on the horizon. I ventured further, the volcanic ash sifting under my feet like the sands of forgotten battles, and I stumbled, throwing my left arm out to catch myself against a jagged outcrop.

  White hot pain burned up my arm and I gritted my teeth, a growling exhale escaped past my clenched teeth as my fractured arm took the brunt of my own weight plus my armour, the bone grinding in protest. Shifting, I got weight off of it and continued down, the pain twisting my thoughts like a blade in a wound, forcing me to dig more greedily into the Force, drawing its dark sustenance to blunt the edge of the suffering.

  Reaching out with the Force, I flicked my right hand in a waving motion, closing my eyes to tunnel vision my senses to focus more on what I was feeling, the world narrowing to the invisible currents that swirled amid the heat. It was difficult to pinpoint anything, as the roar of the lava through the air and the Force was extremely loud and difficult to work through, a tempest of raw power that battered my awareness like waves against a cliff.

  'I will not be outdone by the likes of Kenobi,' I growled to myself, opening myself up more, clenching down and letting go of the pain suppression, embracing the torment as a forge for my will.

  Immediately, pain tore through me and I let out a keening groan of near agony, my breath halting as if seized by an invisible fist. My fists clenched and my face contorted beneath the helmet, and I snarled, my hand unclenching and with my fingers arched like claws, my senses in the Force blazed hot and everything was cast in a distinct shadowy view. Faint sparks amidst subdued black, crude matter fading away as my mind's eye saw something; a glimmer amid the chaos. It was down near the lava, just above where it frothed in ceaseless fury.

  With a near manic sob mixed with a laugh, I climbed further down, my vision blurring from the pain that now coursed unchecked, each step a defiance against my body’s frailty.

  This was nothing though. The lava, the blinding craze, heat, and the pain were all pale imitations of what my brother would have been subjected to on that hellish world of fire and ash. But not anymore, because he was dead, consumed by the flames of betrayal and loss. He lives fore'er in my mind, a shadow that burned as much as it froze, a ghost that haunted the corridors of my soul with echoes of what might have been.

  I could hear his screams as I descended, raw and unending, and icy claws of anguish scraped along the edges of my mind, subtle whispers brushing along my awareness, urging me to give in, to surrender, to flee, run and run until nothing could find me, until the darkness swallowed all that was me.

  It was only when I stopped my descent that I realized I had tears streaming down my face, hot tracks cutting through the grime and sweat on my checks.

  “No!” I snarled, my fury chasing away the glacial touch of leviathan as the ice of dread was sent reeling back into the abyss from whence it came. I and I alone was the master of my fate, and no fear would govern me, no ghosts to hold me back from the path I had chosen.

  I killed Anakin Skywalker with my weakness, I broke all promises and oaths of brotherhood when I refused to master myself, when I surrendered to the darkness that now I embraced as ally rather than master.

  No longer would I be slave to regret; the Force was my tool, my weapon, my salvation.

  My boots dug further into the ground as I struck the cable with my fist, sending it loose but still attached as I chased the spark of light, burning as bright in the Force as the molten heart of this mountain did to my eyes that were still shut completely, sealed against the glare of the forge below.

  I reached it in record time, my hand striking my belt once again and the cable went taut again, stopping me from falling forward into the abyss that beckoned with fiery arms.

  My eyes opened once more, and I was met with the roaring sea of the depths of the mount, the heat penetrating through my armour like insidious fingers seeking weakness. Sweat already began to form on my face, beading on my brow, my fingers getting quite warm as the gloves strained against the rising temperature.

  With the pain of my body looping through my connection, a relentless cycle of torment and resolve that had my vision struggling to focus amid the haze of heat and hurt, my hand raised and my will was made manifest as the telekinetic grip sank into the sizzling volcanic ash and rock; and I slowly lifted it up, the grains parting like a reluctant sea being split apart.

  On and on, I lifted it until there was still rock beneath it. Then, I stepped closer, kneeling and pulling my Beskad as my knee pressed against the hot rock, the heat seeping through the armor's layers like a warning from the depths.

  Tensing every muscle in my arm, the Force flowing through me like a river of power, I let out a nearly animal sounding exhale as I slammed the pommel into the rock, the Force assisted strike cracking it with a sharp report that echoed up the shaft. I struck again, shearing off a chunk that went tumbling down into the lake of fire, vanishing in a hiss of steam.

  I struck again, a flash of memory burning through my mind like a comet across the night sky. I saw the sand beneath on Tatooine, blood dripping down from my face as my head was nearly splitting in horrible pain, the desert's unrelenting sun mirroring the volcano's glow.

  Crack

  My armour was getting hot, my breathing ragged as I slammed down again, each strike a defiance against the pain that clawed at my resolve.

  Crack

  More rock gave away as I dug deeper into the earth, striking it again. And again. And again, the rhythm a drumbeat like the thrumming heart of a god of war, each impact sending vibrations up my arm, testing the fractures that still lingered.

  Finally, I struck it again and saw a glint of red and orange amidst the shattered stone, and put my beskad back in its lock, the blade sliding home with a click. I reached down into the sand and rock, my fingers wrapping around what I needed, the heat biting through my gloves like a living thing.

  Pulling it free, my eyes roamed over it, a crystal that glowed orange and red, with streaks of gold through it like veins of fire, and it seemed to hum slightly, a vibration that resonated in my bones.

  A lava crystal.

  I let out a laugh of triumph, my fist clenched around it, the sound raw and victorious, echoing off the walls like a challenge to the mountain itself.

  I moved up a bit higher, the cable reeling me back with a steady whir, the heat lessening as I ascended the slope. I steadied myself on a rock, the surface rough and warm under my boots, the temperature still hot but bearable. The air shimmered with heat waves. I opened the Holocron, its facets unfolding with a soft glow. Malgus appeared once again, his form a red-tinged hologram, eyes sharp with fury.

  The roar of the volcano was too loud for speech, the lava's rumble a constant thunder that drowned all sound. I reached out with the Force to communicate, my mind touching his, a cold link in the heat. I pulled my sealed container with the parts for my saber hilt and set it to the side on the rock, the metal clinking against stone. I then presented the crystal to Malgus, holding it out, its glow pulsing in my palm.

  Malgus reached out, his holographic form flickering, and with a chilling touch that pierced my mind, he guided me in attuning it. The crystal hovered between us, its structure laid bare in the Force; a lattice of atoms, imperfect, and raw from the volcano's impromptu forging. I felt his will work in tandem with mine, a very subtle dark pressure that only slightly assisted me in sculpting it on a structural level, purging impurities, aligning the matrix to respond to the Force's call. Atoms shifted, bonds breaking and reforming, the crystal's hum growing stronger, its glow steadying to a fierce light.

  My presence in the Force remained rooted deep, an anchor against the pain that ate at me. My ribs grinded with each breath, arm throbbing steadily. Sweat poured down my face, beading under my helmet, the heat pressing like a weight, but I held firm, my will unyielding as the crystal slowly was purified.

  I sank my will and focus into the crystal, its form suspended in the air before me, slowly rotating as if caught in an invisible current. My hands hovered to each side of it, fingers splayed, the Force channeling through my palms like threads weaving into its core. The lattice responded, atoms vibrating under the pressure of my intent; to impose, to control, to bend the raw chaos into order. I pressed deeper, my presence a blade carving through the imperfections, and the crystal began to glow a different shade, shifting from raw orange to a deeper crimson, streaks of gold pulsing like veins under skin.

  The process stretched, time losing meaning in the volcano's roar. Hours blurred, perhaps days, as I remade the crystal, infusing it with the Force's essence, aligning every bond to resonate with my will. Malgus' guidance was a faint shadow in my mind, his dark pressure nudging when I faltered, but the work was mine, each shift a test of endurance, and each purge a small victory unto itself.

  Pain gnawed at me, ribs grinding with every inhale, arm throbbing in rhythm with my heartbeat. Sweat soaked my face, dripping under my helmet, the heat a relentless press that seeped through seals, but I held firm, my focus an unyielding edge, honed sharper with each passing moment.

  The crystal turned, its hum building to a steady thrum, impurities burning away in invisible flames. Bonds reformed under my command, the matrix tightening, the glow steadying to a fierce, unwavering light. My thoughts narrowed to the task, the world reduced to the crystal's core and the Force's flow. Exhaustion crept in, a distant whisper at first, then a weight on my limbs, but I pushed it back, drawing from the Dark Side's cold reservoir. The hours dragged, the volcano's rumble a constant backdrop.

  Finally, it finished. The crystal hung still, its form perfect, attuned to me like an extension of my hand. I lowered my hands, the rotation stopping, and caught it in my palm. My face was soaked with sweat, helmet foggy from the moisture, my body almost exhausted, muscles trembling from the effort. I exhaled, the sound lost in the roar, and sealed the crystal away, the saber one step closer.

  I reached for the sealed container with the saber hilt parts, popping the latch with a click. The pieces lay inside, collected over months; emitter matrix, power cell, focusing lens, grip frame, all dull metal waiting to be assembled. I pulled them out one by one, laying them on the rock beside me, the clink of durasteel lost over the volcano's rumble. The grip frame was dark durasteel, etched with thin bands of lighter silver for better hold. I set the crystal next to them, its glow casting shimmering light on the parts.

  I closed my eyes, drawing a slow breath, and lifted them with my mind. The Force wrapped around each piece, hovering them in the air before me. They floated still, waiting for my command. I focused, my will pressing in, guiding them together. The emitter clicked into the power cell, the connection forming slowly as I willed the threads to align. Hours passed, the volcano's roar a distant backdrop. I tweaked each placement, the Force mentally nudging me, a faint shift here, a slight turn there. The matrix calibrated under my intent, bonds forming without tools, everything aligning to near microscopic perfection.

  Pain throbbed in my side with each breath, my arm aching steadily, but I held the trance, sweat beading under my helmet. The focusing lens slotted into place, the crystal fitting next, its hum syncing with the power cell. I adjusted gradually, the Force whispering corrections, my thoughts narrowed to the assembly. The grip frame enclosed around it all, silver bands catching the lava's glow. After another long period, the final parts clicked together, the hilt complete. The air seemed to still, the Force quieting.

  I opened my eyes, reaching out with my hand, clasping the hilt in my right palm. It was dark durasteel, with thin bands of lighter silver along the grip, cool and solid in my grasp. I thumbed the ignition. The blade sprang out, black, orange, and red, nearly the same color as the churning sea of lava beneath me. I grinned, the Dark Side howling in triumph as I succeeded at the forging of my saber. The blade hummed, its energy vibrating through my arm, an extension of my will. I swung it lightly, the air sizzling, the glow casting shadows on the rock. The pain faded to the background, the saber a symbol of my strength.

  And I knew, I had triumphed.