I knelt in the meditation nook aboard Fulcrum's Dawn, the slate-grey durasteel cool beneath me. The hum of the kyber-tuned hyperdrive pulsed through the ship, a steady heartbeat I'd synced my breathing to years ago. Faint Togruta runes etched into the walls caught the glow of a small kyber crystal embedded overhead—a piece of Shili I'd carried since the galaxy stopped making sense. The nook was tight, curved like the rest of my shuttle, but it was mine. A refuge carved from decades of running, fighting, and finding my way back.
My lekku rested still against my shoulders, slate-grey robes pooling around me. I'd been attuned to the ship's rhythm—creaks of durasteel, the distant whine of twin blaster cannons—when my thoughts drifted to Ossus. The New Jedi Council's temple had become a beacon amid the galaxy's scars. Hosnian ash still lingered in the stars, Jakku and Bespin flared with rebellions, and Coruscant festered under syndicate rule. Yet it was the Force wail that had shaken us—a soundless crack splitting stone, rippling dread through every sensitive from younglings to masters. Yavin 8's ruin haunted Kam's intel: Rakata tech, a dying soldier's gasp about "gateways." It was why I'd left, why I'd taken Huyang and my padawans to Lehon. Something ancient called, and I'd never been one to ignore a mystery.
A faint chirp broke the silence—barely a scuff behind a panel. I'd frowned, but the hyperdrive's hum swallowed it. Probably just the ship settling. Fulcrum's Dawn was old, patched together from Lothal ruins and Huyang's tinkering. I'd risen then, stretching joints that creaked more than they used to. Seventy-one wasn't young, even for a Togruta, but the Force kept me sharp. I stepped into the narrow passage, brushing past the holocron vault—its faint blue glow a comfort I'd known since my Rebel days. This ship was home, a constant in a life of wandering.
The cockpit wasn't far, and I'd found Korrin and Tayra exactly as I'd expected: bickering like siblings over a sabacc pot. Korrin, all Chiss angles and glowing red eyes, gripped the pilot's chair, his blue hands tight on the controls. Tayra, her orange-red skin stark against short, scarred montrals, leaned over the sensor console, jabbing a finger at him. Huyang stood between them, his bronze plating chipped from Clone Wars battles, optics flickering as he monitored the readouts.
"—jump-by-jump means precision, Korrin," Tayra was saying, voice sharp. "Not your 'instincts.' One wrong lane, and we're paste in a gravity well."
Korrin smirked, not looking up. "Relax, rune-girl. I've got a pilot's instincts—Unknown Regions don't scare me."
"Your gut won't save us from a supernova," she'd snapped. "You'll crash us before I can even scan a relic."
I'd leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. "If you two crash my ship, I'm spacing you both. And I'll enjoy it."
They'd stilled, Korrin's smirk fading, Tayra's amber eyes darting to me. Huyang turned, gears whirring. "Master Ahsoka, they've been at this since hyperspace entry. I calculate a 73% chance their debate is irrelevant—the Force guides us well enough."
"Told you I have this." Korrin said, triumphant. Tayra huffed, and I'd smiled despite myself. Those two—they'd come so far.
I'd remembered Korrin at only four years of age, rescued from that slaver outpost in the Unknown Regions. His small hands had tugged at chains, red eyes blazing defiance even as hunger hollowed his cheeks. I'd sworn to his mother, that I'd keep his origins buried. Now, at sixteen, he wielded a blue saber-staff with a pilot's focus, his bravado tempered by Jedi discipline. I was proud of the protector he'd become, even if his mouth still ran ahead of his brain.
Korrin's jab at Tayra pulled my thoughts to her—Kashyyyk, 27 ABY. She'd clutched a cracked rune-stone as pirate blaster fire torched her clan's camp, her tiny frame trembling but unbowed. At fifteen, she'd grown into an investigator's mind, her purple saber staff a blur of insight and grace. Her stubborn curiosity made me proud, even when it clashed with Korrin's recklessness.
"Enough," I'd said, stepping between them. "Korrin, trust Tayra's scans. Tayra, let him fly. We're a team, not a cantina brawl."
They'd nodded—Korrin grudgingly, Tayra with a flicker of a smile. I'd settled into the co-pilot's seat, gazing out the curved viewport as hyperspace streaked blue. Cal stayed behind, his deep grey robes a steady presence on Ossus. I'd trusted him to hold it together there. Focus mattered now.
The ship shuddered, hyperspace peeling away to reveal Lehon. Jungle sprawled below, green tangling with turquoise oceans, black spires stabbing the sky like Rakata ghosts. No orbital stations pinged our sensors—just silence. Korrin adjusted course, jungle rushing closer. "Looks too quiet for something that's supposed to be awakening. What's the play, Master?"
I'd stared at the planet, feeling its Force hum—old, layered, unreadable. "We investigate. That's why we're here."
We'd descended toward the foothills, the jungle canopy brushing close, when a crisp voice crackled through the comm. "Unidentified craft, this is Prime Echo Relay traffic control. State your designation and intent."
Korrin's red eyes flicked to me, a question in them. I'd tilted my head—keep it tight. He tapped the comm, voice cool. "No designation to give. We're scouting. Got a problem with that?"
I'd nudged his shoulder lightly, a quiet "Manners" under my breath. He'd smirked but held his tongue as the static stretched—a beat too short for real scrutiny. "Understood," the voice returned, clipped and smooth. "Scouting clearance granted. Proceed to Bay Three—vector's on your console."
Tayra's montrals twitched, her frown deepening as she scanned the readouts. "They didn't push for an ident. Nothing."
Korrin's jaw tightened, a smirk gone sour. "That's either sloppy or bait."
"Or they're too confident to care," I'd said, unease coiling in my gut. It felt like a Hutt deal—smiles up front, vibroblades in the back. "Take us in, Korrin. Steady."
Fulcrum's Dawn angled toward the signal, and Prime Echo Relay came into focus—not the crumbling Rakata spires I'd braced for, but something else entirely. It rose from the jungle like a vision from a dream: a sleek hub of pale, shimmering alloys cradled beneath a grand waterfall, its roar shaking the air. The cascade split the canopy, mist swirling where water crashed against moss-slicked architecture, softening edges that gleamed too smooth, too precise for this wild place. Towers of strange metal curved upward, their surfaces etched with faint, pulsing lines—circuits, maybe, alive with a hum I felt in my bones. Below, the facility burrowed into the earth, dark openings framed by angular supports, their depths flickering with a cold, steady light.
I'd leaned forward in the co-pilot's seat, lekku twitching. "That's no ruin," I'd murmured. Beside me, Korrin's hands froze on the controls, red eyes wide. Tayra pressed closer to the viewport, her breath catching.
"It's... alive," she'd said, voice hushed. "Those lines—look at them glow. Like kyber, but not."
Huyang's optics whirred, scanning. "Advanced metallurgy, Master Ahsoka. Energy signatures suggest integrated systems—possibly autonomous. This exceeds Rakata craftsmanship by millennia."
The docking bay stretched into view, and my gut tightened. I'd expected a weathered platform, maybe a rusty clamp or two—Corellian grit, something familiar. Instead, a lattice of slender alloy arms extended from the facility's flank, hovering mid-air over the gorge. They shimmered with a faint blue haze, crackling softly as if charged by unseen currents. No landing pad, no clamps grinding into place—just these strange, elegant limbs poised to catch us. A voice—synthetic, too smooth—hummed through the comm, overlapping the controller's earlier words. "Approach vector confirmed. Mass Effect fields engaged. Stand by."
"Mass Effect fields?" Korrin echoed, his bravado cracking. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Before I could answer, Fulcrum's Dawn jolted—not the thud of a landing, but a pull, like the ship was snared by invisible hands. The viewport flared as the arms adjusted, their glow intensifying, and we slid into place, suspended above the jungle floor. A low hum vibrated through the hull, steady and foreign, holding us firm. Tayra's montrals flared, her fingers brushing her saber staff. "That's not repulsors. It's... holding us. How?"
I'd gripped the console, peering out. "Not something we've seen before. Stay alert."
A corridor unfurled from the bay—a seamless tube of pale metal, its walls rippling with faint light as it extended toward us. It sealed to our hatch with a hiss, precise and silent, no clank of docking clamps or groan of servos. Korrin muttered under his breath, "Too quiet. Where's the catch?"
"Too advanced," Huyang corrected, his tone edged with rare unease. "This technology suggests artificial oversight—perhaps an intelligence beyond droid protocols."
I'd nodded, white sabers heavy at my belt. The awe lingered—we'd stumbled into something vast, something that dwarfed the Rakata relics we'd come for—but so did the prickle of caution. Whatever Prime Echo Relay was, it wasn't just a ruin waiting to be picked over.
I'd eased out of the co-pilot's seat, white sabers brushing my hips, and stretched with a faint smile. "Let's take a look," I'd said, nodding toward the hatch. "Can't sit here guessing all day."
Tayra was already up, her purple saber staff swaying as she moved, eyes bright with that hunger for the unknown I'd always loved. "The precision out there—it's unreal," she'd said, voice quick with wonder. "Those arms, the way they caught us—it's like the tech's alive, adapting. Nothing Rakata ever built could touch this."
Korrin followed, rolling his red eyes as we slipped into the narrow passage. "Oh, here comes the lecture," he'd grumbled, a smirk tugging his lips. "Tayra and her shiny toys—heard it a million times." He'd glanced out the viewport, though, at the lattice still glowing blue, and his usual scoff softened. "This one's... weirder, I'll give you that."
I'd chuckled, brushing past the holocron vault's faint light. "Weirder's right. Let's see what else it's got—Huyang, mind the ship? Might need a quick getaway if this goes sideways."
Huyang's bronze frame had shifted, optics glinting. "I'd prefer to guard our exit, Master Ahsoka. This place hums with more than jungle life."
The hatch had hissed open, and a wave of humid air rolled in—thick with wet earth and a sharp, metallic bite that tingled my lekku. We'd stepped onto the docking bridge, a translucent tube stretching from Fulcrum's Dawn to Prime Echo Relay's sleek flank. Below, the gorge churned, turquoise water glinting through mist that clung to the tube's walls—walls that glowed with a soft, rippling light, etched with pulsing veins of energy. The lattice of alloy arms shimmered outside, their faint blue haze holding us steady over the drop, a marvel of design that felt too perfect against the jungle's wild sprawl.
Tayra's montrals perked, her gaze tracing the glowing lines. "It's incredible—look at that flow. Like a living circuit."
Korrin snorted, boots tapping the smooth floor. "Living, sure. Still creepy—no scratches, no wear. What's it hiding?"
"Answers, maybe," I'd said, a wry edge in my voice. "Or just a better class of questions."
A flicker caught my eye mid-bridge—a small prism drifting into view, its deep purple glow pulsing faintly, hovering without a hint of repulsors or jets. It was smaller than a holocron, edges sharp and gleaming, and a brisk voice cut through the air, firm and clipped like a drill sergeant on a tight clock. "Greetings, arrivals at Prime Echo Relay, Bay Three. I am Relay Warden, processing overseer. Party size: three. Purpose: scouting. Follow me to check-in and customs for clearance verification. Now."
Korrin's brow furrowed, hand brushing his saber-staff. "What's this? Glow-box giving orders?"
Tayra's eyes widened, tracking its effortless hover. "It's artificial—and look, no thrusters. It's just... floating there, steady as a star. That's not like any droid I've seen. And the way it talks—brisk, all business."
The Warden's glow sharpened, its tone snapping with a hint of impatience. "Speculation is unnecessary. Kinetic stabilizers secure your vessel. Check-in is mandatory for access. Follow."
I'd tilted my head, studying it. That "kinetic stabilizers" bit—another strange term, tossed out like it owned the rulebook. This thing was all edges, no give—a taskmaster in a tiny shell. "Fine," I'd said, keeping it light. "Lead the way, Warden. Let's see your customs."
The Relay Warden had glided ahead, its purple glow cutting through the mist, and we'd followed—Korrin's grumbles a low hum, Tayra's steps quick with wonder, my senses tingling like they hadn't in years. The translucent tube had curved upward, its walls alive with rippling light that cast faint shadows on the jungle gorge below. It'd opened into a chamber—smooth alloys arching into a low dome, the air cool and sterile, a soft buzz thrumming beneath the floor. Glowing panels had lined the walls, their patterns shifting like a slow tide, and a hallway stretched ahead, flanked by sleek consoles and a scanner that hummed with a faint, eerie energy.
"Step through the omni-scan," the Warden had said, its voice brisk and clipped, hovering near the hallway's mouth. "Custom's Scan is mandatory for entry."
Tayra's montrals had perked, her amber eyes tracing the scanner's glowing frame. "Look at it—seamless, alive," she'd murmured, stepping closer. "It's reading us like a holocron."
Korrin had snorted, arms crossed as he lingered behind her. "Reading us? More like sizing us up. I don't trust glowy boxes."
I'd smirked, guiding them forward with a gentle nudge. "It's a scanner, not a blaster. Let's keep moving—eyes open."
We'd stepped into the hallway, and the scanner's hum had deepened, a soft blue field sweeping over us in a slow, deliberate wave. It'd felt cold, invasive, prickling my skin like a static charge. Tayra's breath had caught, her awe plain as the light danced across her orange-red skin. Korrin's jaw had tightened, his red eyes narrowing as it passed over his saber-staff. A sharp beep had cut the air, and red markers flared on the scanner's display—pinpointing our lightsabers with unerring precision.
"Contraband detected," the Warden had announced, its glow sharpening. "Weapons are restricted. You must surrender them to proceed to the headmaster."
Korrin's hand had hovered near his saber, his voice low and edged. "What's this headmaster hiding that he needs us disarmed!?"
I'd caught his gaze, steady and calm, my voice low. "Easy." He'd stilled, his Chiss instincts kicking in—sharp enough to probe, smart enough to wait. I'd turned to the Warden, my own hand resting on a saber hilt. "We're not here to fight. If we hand them over, they go back to our ship—our droid's keeping watch."
The Warden's prism had pulsed once, its tone firm but unbending. "Weapons will be transferred to your vessel. Compliance is required. Now."
A low hum had rumbled from the chamber's corner, and a towering figure had stirred—a sleek, curved silhouette of pale alloy, its joints glowing purple, its surface smooth as glass. It'd stepped forward, broad shoulders looming, a faint ripple running across its frame like liquid settling. Two smaller mechs had glided in beside it—leaner, agile, their claw-like hands poised and silent, mirror-smooth bodies catching the light. The big one had stood like a sentinel; the pair had moved like hunters.
Tayra's eyes had widened, her voice a whisper. "They're incredible—look at that design. Not a seam anywhere."
Korrin's smirk had faded, his stance stiffening. "Incredible's one word for it."
I'd felt the weight of it—their first real risk without weapons, the hum of those mechs like a warning in the Force. My fingers had lingered on my hilt, a flicker of Malachor flashing through me—saberless, facing Vader's shadow, surviving on wits and will. Not my first time, but theirs. I'd met their gazes, steady and sure. "We'll be fine. Hand them over—they go to Huyang."
Tayra had hesitated, clutching her staff, then passed it to a claw-hand with a reluctant nod. Korrin had grumbled, jaw tight, but followed, his saber-staff clinking into the mech's grip. I'd handed mine over last, the weight of surrender settling heavy, though the Force hummed strong beneath it. The smaller mechs had glided away, silent as ghosts, their cargo bound for Fulcrum's Dawn.
"Follow," the Warden had said, spinning toward an elevator at the chamber's end. Its cylindrical frame had gleamed—smooth white walls with golden inlays, a faint hum pulsing through it. We'd stepped inside, and the doors had sealed with a soft hiss. Then it'd dropped—fast, a rush that pressed us back, the walls transparent as golden conduits and white spires streaked past in a golden blur.
Tayra had braced against the wall, her voice bright with wonder. "The speed—it's unreal!"
Korrin had gripped the rail, a scowl creasing his face.
"Stabilizers ensure efficiency," the Warden had snapped, hovering steady as we fell. I'd steadied them with a hand on each shoulder, the velocity a thrill I hadn't felt since Rebel runs. The underground had sprawled below—towering structures glinting through the glass—and then the elevator had eased, settling with a gentle hum. The doors had parted, and we'd stepped out into a sight that stole my breath.
It'd been vast—a gleaming expanse of ultra-white floors and golden pillars soaring toward a fake sky, its azure glow rippling overhead like a captured dawn. Reflective surfaces had shimmered—smooth as liquid, alive with a soft sheen—and floating walkways had crisscrossed above, alive with motion. Wealthy figures had swept past in silken robes, their chatter a low hum—Twi'lek lekku swaying, Chiss eyes glinting, humans in gilded tunics, all brushing shoulders with strangers whose features I couldn't place. A few had caught my eye—tall, fluid, their scales shimmering faintly, a ripple in the Force bending wrong around them. I'd seen rare faces before, but these felt different, though I couldn't pin why.
Tayra's jaw had dropped, her voice a reverent hush. "It's like a city carved from light—those walkways, the glow!" Korrin's eyes had narrowed, scanning the crowd.
Before I could linger on that ripple, a figure had approached—a man, tall and poised, his white uniform crisp with golden accents, a short capelet trailing his shoulders. One eye had glowed a cold blue, the other dim and scarred, flickering with a sharpness that cut through his smile. A small pin had glinted on his collar—a veiled eye, subtle but there. He'd raised a fist near his left shoulder in a crisp salute, his voice smooth and warm, almost too warm.
"Welcome to Prime Echo Relay," he'd said, voice smooth as silk, brimming with charm. "Jedi are rare guests here—what a delight to have you. I'm Headmaster Varnis, overseer of this humble station. Please, follow me—there's a better place to talk than this bustling floor."
He'd gestured ahead, that smile holding steady, though his scarred eye had twitched—just once. Tayra had beamed, still lost in the glow, but Korrin's hand had flexed where his saber should've been. I'd nodded, stepping after him, a prickle rising on my neck despite his warmth. I'd met charmers before—too many hid blades behind smiles like that.
He'd led us toward a corridor, the Warden trailing behind, and we'd entered an office—curved golden walls framing a massive window, an underground vista of spires and conduits stretching beyond. A throne-like desk had gleamed at the center, its surface humming faintly, and the fake sky above had shimmered, casting a soft light over us all.
We'd barely crossed the threshold when Headmaster Varnis swept an arm toward a trio of sleek chairs—golden frames, cushioned in white, angled before his humming desk. "Please, sit," he'd said, his voice smooth as a Corellian vintage, that cold blue eye glinting under the fake sky's shimmer. "You've traveled far—let me offer some refreshment."
I'd eased into a chair, Tayra had settled beside me, her amber eyes still wide from the underground sprawl, while Korrin took the last seat, his gaze tracing Varnis' every move—sharp, silent, like a hunter clocking prey. "We're not here for tea," I'd said, a wry edge slipping in. "Lost a few strays out here—the Unknown's my old turf. Figured we'd scout around."
Varnis had leaned back in his throne-like seat, the desk's faint hum pulsing beneath his steepled fingers. "Missing Jedi? A noble cause," he'd said, smile widening, though that scarred eye held a flicker too sharp. "This region's a mess—raiders have been plaguing our research lately, killing our people. Perhaps you could lend a hand tracking them. We'd be grateful for the assist."
Tayra's head had tilted, her book-smart mind snapping from awe to duty. "If we're scouting, the Rakata shrine on the eastern ridge might hold clues—records mark it as a refuge site and the tomb could lure raiders," she'd said, her voice precise and steady.
His hand had tightened on the desk—just a fraction, a ripple under that smooth charm—and his blue eye had narrowed for a heartbeat. "That old ruin?" he'd said, his tone light but probing, a smile tugging at his lips. "An odd choice for a search. What draws you to a pile of ancient stones—any
disturbances lately? Tell me, what sort of Jedi go missing out here?"
I'd kept my tone light, though something in his question didn't sit right. "History's a good place to start—strays like familiar ground. The Unknown's full of shadows worth chasing."
He'd leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk, his scarred eye glinting. "Shadows, yes—plenty of those out here. But the Rakata? Their time's long dust. Surely your strays would seek something... livelier. Where else have you looked, I wonder?"
A soft buzz had crackled from the desk's holo-panel, a faint amber light pulsing. He'd ignored it, his smile stretching thin as he pressed on. "A Jedi's instincts must be keen to pick such a spot. Tell me, what sort of strays vanish in these parts—lost warriors, or something rarer?"
Tayra had shifted, her eyes flicking to the desk. "The resonance—it's engineered, not random," she'd murmured, half to herself. "Like a power grid woven into the frame." She'd straightened, refocusing. "If your raiders know the shrine, they might've crossed paths with our strays."
Korrin's silence had deepened, his red eyes tracking Varnis' hands, the pin, the room's edges—studying, waiting. I'd leaned forward, keeping it casual. "Could be. Any whispers of strays around here?"
The buzz had flared again, insistent, but Varnis had waved a hand, his grin unwavering. "Plenty of whispers—none worth much." He'd tilted his head, that blue eye boring into me. "What else drives a Jedi to poke through old ruins—hope, or something sharper?"
Before I could answer, the corridor door had burst open, and a slim woman had stormed in, clad in a crisp grey tunic, her wrist glowing with a purple holo-interface—a sleek wrist-comm, alive with light. "Headmaster," she'd said, voice tight, "it's the vice-chair—urgent, now."
Varnis had risen, that charm snapping back like a mask. "Stay here, my dear guests—Lira will look after you," he'd said, smooth as ever. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask her." He'd strode out, capelet trailing, leaving Lira hovering near the desk, her wrist-comm flickering as she glanced our way.
Tayra had stepped closer, her voice quick with wonder. "That projection's layered—resonance-driven, not just light. How does it stabilize the holo-field?"
Lira had tapped the device nervously, the purple glow dimming slightly. "Standard issue," she'd said, curt and clipped, her eyes flicking to us. "Nothing to fuss over."
I'd watched her, that prickle on my neck holding steady—Varnis' questions, Lira's twitch, something off I couldn't pin. Korrin's silence had stretched, his study unbroken, while Tayra's awe pressed closer. We'd been left alone, but not unwatched, and the air had thickened with questions neither side seemed ready to answer.
Hours had dragged on in Varnis' office, Tayra's voice blurring into a relentless hum—resonance this, holo-fields that—picking Lira's brain dry as the assistant's curt replies grew thinner. I'd tuned it out, sinking inward, the golden walls and fake sky fading as I let my breath slow, the Force a steady pulse beneath the unease. Three, maybe four hours had slipped by, Lira's wrist-comm flickering in my peripheral haze, her nervous taps a distant rhythm. I'd drifted, meditation pulling me deep—until Korrin's voice had sliced through, too calm, too sharp.
"Need the refresher," he'd said, his tone edged like a blade fresh from the forge.
My eyes had snapped open, stomach twisting as I caught a glint in his red gaze—calculated. He'd risen, breaking that hunter's silence, and Lira had nodded, too quick. "This way," she'd said, her wrist-comm dimming as she led him out, the corridor door hissing shut behind them. I'd watched them go, unease coiling tight—splitting up felt wrong, and that glint in his eye had me wondering what he'd hatched.
More time had slipped, my boots wearing a groove in the shimmering floor as Tayra's chatter faltered, her amber eyes flicking to me. "He's been gone a while," she'd murmured, but I'd barely answered, pacing now, the quiet stretching too long. I'd reached through the Force for Korrin, a reflex to find his spark—nothing came, just a slip, muffled like a comm gone dead. My chest had tightened, thoughts racing—Malachor's shadow flickered, saberless against Vader, but this was different, sharper. I'd known parting with our blades would bite us—I hadn't known how soon.
The doors had burst open, a rush of fluid shadows—four figures, tall and lean, scales glinting under sleek armor smooth as liquid glass, purple seams pulsing like the mechs upstairs. A veiled-eye symbol—small, sharp, mirroring Varnis' pin—had glinted on their chests, marking them elite. They'd moved with eerie grace, and before I could shout, a shimmer had snared us—cold and heavy, locking my limbs tight, Tayra's gasp cut short beside me. A power unlike the Force—unnatural, bending it askew, straining to snap back like a taut cord held by their will. Questions had flooded me—what was this, denying nature itself?—Confusion had crashed with a bitter knowing—no sabers, and here it was, the trap I'd half-expected since customs.
Varnis strode through then, his voice a venomous hiss before his boots even hit the floor. 'Predictable.' His smile curled sharp, venom dripping from bared teeth as that cold blue eye glinted, the scarred one steady with malice. His gaze swept the room, landing on the empty space where Korrin had stood—a flicker of a smirk, darker, crueler, twisted his lips. 'Always so curious, you Jedi. Never content to leave sleeping secrets lie.' I'd stared, caught—had Korrin tripped this, or had I missed the play? The stasis gripped harder, and my mind split, teetering between shock and the grim certainty that this game had just begun.