In a galaxy far, far away...
Journal of Yun Sedaya – Entry I
Yun Sedaya. My name.
It still belongs to me, even if the Order tries to erase it.
I don't know how much time I have left.
I don't know if these words will ever be read.
Perhaps this journal will be consumed by fire, lost in the rubble of a forgotten world... or fall into the hands of a young mind free enough to grasp its meaning.
I write it for those who will come after me.
Not to be mourned.
Not to be followed.
But to pass on what I have seen, what I have learned. What they have hidden.
This is not a manifesto. Not a battle cry.
Just a trace — a fragile thread I leave behind, so that one day, perhaps, someone else might understand.
If my words can inspire, guide, awaken... then my fall will not have been in vain.
But if I am forgotten, erased from the archives, banished from memory, and this journal is seen only as the ramblings of a fallen Jedi... so be it.
Better to be mad in the eyes of the blind than silent in the shadow of a lie -
He closed the book with a satisfied sigh. He re-read a passage and smiled. "Well written," he thought.
Before he could share his thoughts, Yun knew he had to set the context: to speak about himself, his story, what had led him to flee the Jedi Council — and above all, what he was truly searching for.
It had all begun on Tatooine, like so many stories before his. A quiet child, Yun lived with his parents in deep poverty. At the time, the galaxy was just emerging from the shadow of the Sith threat. The New Galactic Republic, now restored, was once again extending its influence across the systems. The last remnants of the Sith Order — those tied to Palpatine — were being relentlessly hunted down by a new Jedi Order, slowly but steadily rebuilt under the leadership of several Jedi Masters, among whom was Rey Skywalker.
Some already saw the dawn of a new golden age for the Jedi. The Republic quickly began to collaborate with this reborn Order, for both political and symbolic reasons: Rey Skywalker was none other than the Jedi who had defeated Palpatine and destroyed an entire Sith army. Her legend granted her unquestionable moral authority. Many exiled former Jedi, tired of hiding, joined her. The movement grew in strength, while the Sith, in turn, found themselves increasingly hunted, their numbers dwindling like snow under a twin-sun sky.
At the heart of this new generation of Jedi stood Yun Sedaya.
It was Master Derek Tonor who discovered him on Tatooine, when he was still just a fifteen-year-old boy. The Jedi Master — deeply fascinated by the desert planet so many others scorned — sensed the presence of the Force in Yun immediately. For the young boy, that encounter was a way out. Leaving behind a dull, miserable life on a planet he despised to embrace a greater destiny — it was the opportunity he had been waiting for.
Thus, he found himself at the Jedi Temple, a young novice eager to learn. He quickly proved himself skilled with a lightsaber and adept at communicating with the Force. A new life was beginning... or so he believed.
At the Jedi Temple, Yun Sedaya lived under strict, almost ascetic discipline.
He absorbed the teachings with ease: deep meditation, lightsaber combat forms, the philosophical doctrines of the Order, and that subtle, intimate listening to the Force — something few young Padawans mastered so early. Silent and diligent, he advanced quickly — very quickly — enough to catch the attention of several Jedi Masters.
But his independent nature unsettled some.
Unlike most Padawans of his generation, Yun did not seek to please. He didn't ask for guidance, nor did he wait for approval. He listened. He observed. And above all... he doubted.
Beneath his calm exterior lay a sharp, questioning mind — one that challenged many of the Order's dogmas. The oft-repeated speeches about emotional control, the rejection of anger, the abandonment of attachment... sometimes sounded like half-truths to him. The Force, as it was taught to him, felt mutilated. Incomplete.
He read far beyond the approved texts. Quietly, almost invisibly, he had explored forgotten fragments of the Journals of Sorzus Syn, partially erased from a secondary archive terminal. He also studied certain writings of Dooku, drawn to his criticisms of the Order — criticisms that history had long since reduced to mere signs of corruption. But Yun saw them as warnings.
Despite this, his rise continued. At nineteen, the Jedi Council deemed him ready for the Trials.
The ceremony took place at the summit of the Temple, in the Chamber of Trials — a sacred space with ancient walls, bathed in the soft light of Coruscant. Before him stood several Masters: Kro Silar, a Togruta known for his stern demeanor, and Master Veka, a former healer scarred by war. Standing apart, silent, was Master Tonor, his mentor, observing.
The Trial of Courage led him to Felucia, where he had to face — not with the blade, but with the mind — a rancor infected by fungal spores. He managed to calm it through the Force alone. A victory of will.
The Trial of the Spirit was more unsettling...
He was plunged into an illusion drawn from a nexus of dark Force energy, inspired by the cave on Dagobah once explored by Luke Skywalker. There, Yun found himself face to face with his double — a version of himself, holding a red lightsaber, who spoke these words:
"One day, you will be the one they hunt. You will carry the blade they fear. And you will watch them call you a traitor, because you chose to see what they refuse to."
But Yun did not fight him.
He listened. And the illusion faded.
He passed the remaining Trials — of the flesh, of skill, and of insight — with calculated ease. When the Council declared him a Jedi Knight, he knelt. Master Veka cut off his Padawan braid. The Masters applauded solemnly. Tonor did not smile.
He looked at Yun with a mixture of pride and unease.
He had sensed what the others could not see.
For Yun felt no joy.
He now wore the robe of the Knights, lightsaber at his belt — but deep within, there was no peace, no elation.
He did not feel honored.
He felt... like a stranger.
The Force had not fallen silent. On the contrary — it whispered. It murmured louder than before. And what it said was clear:
You are not free. Not yet.
For behind his focused gaze, the first cracks had begun to form.
Some of the Order's dogmas unsettled him. The teachings of emotional control, of absolute detachment, of rejecting anger... at times, they rang hollow.
He did not wish to fall into darkness — but neither would he become a puppet of the light.
He began to ask questions, to challenge certain foundations.
Master Tonor tried to guide him back to the expected path, but to no avail. Yun wanted to understand — even if it meant stepping outside the frame.
Tensions slowly began to rise.
Though the Jedi Order had regained its glory, it was not free from rigidity.
And faced with a spirit as defiant as Yun's, the Council responded as it always had: first with caution, then with suspicion.
Whispers began to spread.
Some said he was reading forbidden archives. Others claimed he secluded himself to meditate on Sith teachings.
Nothing concrete — but enough to spark surveillance.
Newly appointed as a Jedi Knight, Yun Sedaya quickly received his first assignments.
The Republic, still rebuilding after the fall of the Sith Order, needed the Jedi not only as peacekeepers, but also as mediators, diplomats, and even agents of political influence.
The Council saw in Yun a promising figure, capable of handling complex situations — especially in the outer systems, where instability still reigned.
His first mission took him to Rodia, to resolve a territorial conflict between two local clans.
The Republic wished to maintain trade agreements with the Rodian elites, and the Jedi Order was expected to ease tensions.
On the surface, Yun succeeded in restoring calm.
But what he discovered there disturbed him deeply.
The negotiations were far from fair.
The clan backed by the Republic was using illegal technologies to gain the upper hand.
When Yun reported these facts to the Council, his complaint was met with lukewarm concern.
He was reminded that, in difficult times, political stability took precedence over moral details.
That was the first crack.
He then moved from mission to mission: surveillance on Fondor, diplomatic arbitration on Ord Mantell, retrieval of an artifact on Jedha, escort of Republic emissaries on Serenno...
In every assignment, he witnessed the same contradictions: Jedi restrained from action by the Council, abandoned populations, injustices justified in the name of the "greater good."
On Serenno, he witnessed a scene that left a deep mark on him.
A local governor — a former Sith loyalist who had pledged allegiance to the Republic — was using slaves to rebuild his city.
Yun intervened. He demanded the release of the prisoners.
But the Jedi Council, alerted to the situation, intervened... not to support him, but to remind him of his place.
That governor, said Master Kro Silar, was a "fragile ally," and escalation had to be avoided.
Yun was formally reprimanded.
A warning was issued.
From that point on, he stopped sending reports.
He no longer sought the Council's approval.
He continued his missions, but more and more in isolation. He avoided other Jedi. Refused partnerships. He slept little, read constantly.
He had built himself a small network granting access to restricted archives — through contacts he never should have approached: former archivists, curious technicians, droids with altered programming.
Little by little, he delved into knowledge the Order had deliberately forgotten.
One day, he received a summons:
his next mission would take place on Coruscant itself, within the Temple. An "administrative break," according to the official message.
Yun understood.
They were watching him.
They were concerned.
But what they didn't know... was that he had already begun to cross the line.
For several months now, Yun had discovered the existence of a hidden chamber within the Jedi Temple Library.
A sealed section, locked by the will of several Master Archivists since the post-Imperial era.
He was never meant to know about it — and certainly not to enter it.
But he had a purpose.
A manuscript known as The Book of the Sith, which he had vaguely heard mentioned in passing — a half-forgotten reference in a hushed conversation between two elder Jedi.
Since then, he had become convinced the book was here, buried somewhere within the library.
He was sure of it.
He could feel it.
The Force whispered it to him.
After the fall of the Empire (or of the New Order — it hardly mattered) and the swift death of the last Sith, the New Jedi Order had undertaken a colossal project: the reconstruction of the Jedi Library on Coruscant, under the guidance of Rey Skywalker.
The ancient knowledge had been largely destroyed, scattered, or corrupted during the Imperial purges.
It was no longer merely a restoration — it was a rebirth.
Under the guidance of scholarly Masters — and above all, Master Skywalker — holocrons were recovered from every corner of the galaxy. Fragments of ancient texts, some as old as the High Republic, were translated, purified, and at times, censored.
At the heart of this new library rose a crystalline spire of light, surrounded by scriptoriums, meditation halls, and secured sectors within the Temple.
But not everything was made public.
In the very foundations of the sanctuary, a shadowed section was preserved, locked away behind ancient codes.
There, the Order stored materials deemed dangerous: Sith writings, forbidden treatises on Force manipulation, holocrons from former renegades, texts from long-dead Sith Lords, lightsabers once wielded by legendary figures... and more.
The Council preferred to keep them under control rather than destroy them — out of caution. Or fear.
Despite the strict restrictions placed on newly appointed Knights, Yun managed to infiltrate a hidden section of the grand Jedi Library within the Coruscant Temple.
This place, kept in darkness and tightly secured, held documents the Order considered dangerous — even corrupting.
Among them, a forbidden artifact: The Book of the Sith.
An ancient manuscript, blackened with secrets and twisted truths, sealed away from all eyes for decades.
Night was slowly falling over Coruscant, but at the summit of the Jedi Temple, the sky was never truly dark.
The lights of the megacity cast their artificial glow all the way up to the stained-glass windows of the library.
Far below, the streets pulsed with speed, noise, and constant motion.
But here, high above, silence reigned.
Yun Sedaya ascended the spiral staircase of the northern sector, hidden beneath a meditation cloak.
He knew the cameras' blind spots.
He knew the night guards, the archivists' shifts, the concealed entries to certain alcoves.
He had planned everything.
He did not carry his lightsaber that night. For the sake of discretion.
Before him stood the gate of the Annex dedicated to the Sith — a wall of transparisteel sealed by energy fields. No Padawan had ever entered. Few Knights even knew it existed.
Yun knelt before the access console. He pulled out a blackened kyber crystal fragment, found months earlier on Jedha. He inserted it into a secondary slot, hidden behind a dust sensor. The field crackled. The gate opened.
Inside, the air was heavier. Charged.
As if the Force itself hesitated to breathe.
The walls were lined with relics behind thick glass: cracked red holocrons, sabers with sinister hilts, manuscripts bound in ancient leather. Artifacts bearing the seal of the Empire — or far older.
And at the center...
resting in a cube of psychic isolation: The Book of the Sith.
It wasn't large.
Black, cracked, sealed by a thin golden chain etched with Sith symbols. It vibrated faintly in the Force — not with malice, but with... presence.
Yun stepped forward.
He unlocked the transparent cube meant to shield the book, using the Force.
And without a sound, he took the book.
Nothing collapsed. No traps triggered.
But the moment his hands touched the cover, the room's temperature dropped by one degree.
Yun closed the cube. Replaced the chain. Sealed the Annex door behind him.
He left the library in silence.
In his satchel, he carried a fragment of forgotten history.
Forbidden knowledge.
A definitive choice.
That night, Yun Sedaya did not simply leave the light of the Temple.
He crossed its boundaries.
Excerpt – Internal Report of the Jedi Council
File: Security Breach – Sith Artifact Annex / Jedi Temple
Standard Date: 74:3:21 A.N.E.
Subject: Security breach in the Annex dedicated to Sith artifacts – theft of the manuscript known as "The Book of the Sith."
Initial analysis of holonumeric logs indicates manual deactivation of the psychic locks at 02:16, northeast sector of the Annex. The secondary energy field was neutralized without triggering the audio alarms, via a targeted resonance matching a modified kyber signature.
Artifact Room sensors recorded a residual Force flux — specific and identifiable. Cross-referencing was performed with the energy profiles of all Knights and Masters recently accessing the main library.
Result:
An 87.4% match with the signature profile of Yun Sedaya.
Master Derek Tonor, direct mentor of Knight Sedaya, confirmed the latter's recent possession of a blackened kyber crystal fragment from Jedha. This component, previously dismissed as an archaeological curiosity, may have served as a catalyst for bypassing internal security.
In consideration of:
the energy signature match,
indirect access logs to restricted sections,
the subject's behavioral history (doctrinal dissent, prolonged isolation, unauthorized readings),
the Council unanimously concluded Yun Sedaya's responsibility in this act.
The book has not been recovered.
The subject left the Temple without authorization less than four hours after the theft was discovered.
Current status: Traitor to the Order – subject to active pursuit.
The theft was discovered days later.
And this time, there was no warning. No discussion.
The Jedi Council, convened in emergency, delivered its judgment.
To steal a Sith artifact was not simply an infraction — it was heresy.
After years of Sith-hunting, the Order could not risk a new wave of panic over a possible Sith resurgence.
And Rey Skywalker was unyielding when it came to anything — or anyone — connected to the Sith, especially to Palpatine.
A desecration.
A betrayal.
In the eyes of the Council, Yun Sedaya had crossed a line that few dared even to approach.
He was banished from the Jedi Temple.
And the Order issued a call to all Jedi: find the traitor.
Yun, for his part, did not regret his actions.
The Book, which he had studied in utmost secrecy, had not given him simple answers. But it had revealed a brutal truth: the Force was not divided into black and white. It was whole, complex — wild, at times — and in his eyes, the Jedi Order had deliberately smothered part of that truth in the name of peace and out of their obsessive fear of the dark side. Yun had no desire to become a Sith Lord. But he also refused to submit to an institution that chose ignorance out of fear.
His banishment marked the end of one chapter, but the beginning of another.
With the Book hidden among his belongings, he left Level 5127 of Coruscant under a false identity, hunted within hours by the Order's sentinels.
Now alone — without a master, without a home — but free.
Free to seek, to learn, to understand.
And in the journal he wrote in exile, Yun Sedaya had only one goal:
To leave behind a trace of what he had uncovered, in case he too one day was forgotten — or erased by those who claimed to protect the light.
After fleeing the Jedi Temple, Yun did not immediately leave Coruscant.
A reckless decision, some would say — but for him, it was a necessity. He couldn't leave without understanding.
The Book of the Sith, hidden in a sealed compartment of his satchel, was calling to him.
The planetary megacity was an ocean of towers, levels, and forgotten zones where the laws of the Republic no longer truly applied.
Yun found refuge in the underworld of Level 1313 — a forsaken territory, riddled with corruption, gangs, and starving creatures.
There, no one cared whether he was a Jedi or not. He was just another fugitive among many.
He holed up in an abandoned maintenance facility, nestled between coolant conduits and recycling circuits.
In that damp, grimy darkness, he opened The Book of the Sith for the first time.
His hands were trembling.
The black binding cracked. The pages — some handwritten — looked ancient, yet alive, pulsing faintly with a dark energy that echoed through the Force.
It wasn't just a book — it was a relic, a fragment of intent, frozen in ink.
"Peace is a lie, there is only passion.
Through passion, I gain strength.
Through strength, I gain power.
Through power, I gain victory.
Through victory, my chains are broken."
— Sith Code
Yun read those words several times.
They stood in complete opposition to the Jedi teachings... and yet, strangely, he felt no revulsion.
Only resonance.
A raw, brutal truth — perhaps dangerous — but honest.
He read on.
"The Jedi deny themselves anger, fear, attachment.
They deny themselves.
We Sith, we embrace it.
Every emotion, every desire, every thrill of life."
— Darth Bane
Those lines, written in the hand of an ancient Sith Lord, stirred a cold anger within him.
Not toward the Jedi — but toward their willful ignorance.
How many truths had they buried, hidden beneath centuries of dogma?
How many voices had been silenced in the name of peace?
Days passed.
Yun went out rarely, hidden under a dirty hood, lightsaber concealed across his back.
He traded components scavenged from ruins for meager rations.
Then he returned to his shelter — to read, to meditate, to write.
On another page, he discovered the teachings of Darth Plagueis, a Sith who had pushed the study of the Force to the point of attempting to manipulate life itself.
"The Force is not a moral entity.
It is energy, and energy can be shaped, twisted, constrained.
What the Jedi call 'profanation,' we call understanding."
That shook him deeply.
He remembered the Masters telling him that some knowledge must remain inaccessible.
But here, in Plagueis' words, he found the echo of a new idea:
What if knowledge was neither good nor evil?
What if it was the use of it that mattered?
Each reading deepened his conviction:
The Jedi were not seeking balance — they feared it.
They rejected it to preserve a fragile status quo.
He even found a passage attributed to Darth Sidious himself:
"The Jedi Order lost the war long before it began.
They refused to evolve.
We embraced evolution, adaptation, change.
That is why we will always return."
In the shadows of Coruscant, Yun Sedaya was not being consumed.
He was awakening.
And what he glimpsed was neither light nor darkness —
but a shadowed path, woven from forbidden questions and unspoken truths —
the Path of Balance, as he would later call it.
There, in a bar on Level 1313, he sat lost in thought, hood drawn low, sipping his drink and occasionally scribbling in his journal.
He was simply trying to get through the night.
But in the underworld, nights never pass without taking something.
They came in as a group — loud, cocky.
Five men and a Devaronian, all armed, all drunk.
Low-tier bounty hunters.
Yun paid them no attention, and they did the same.
But nothing ever goes according to plan in this world.
As if fate itself insisted on rebalancing the scales.
The Jedi called it the Force.
The group headed to the bar.
Yun ignored them.
But then the devaronian noticed him.
Tilted his head.
A hooded stranger, alone, silent... he didn't like it.
"Hey, hermit," he sneered.
Without warning, he stuck out a leg and violently tipped Yun from his chair.
The beer mug crashed to the floor.
Conversations stopped instantly.
The room tensed.
Yun stood up slowly, barely dusty, eyes hidden beneath his hood.
The devaronian laughed.
One of his thugs shouted:
"You offended the monk, Drek! He's gonna have to meditate now!"
"I'm not looking for a fight," Yun said simply.
The devaronian scowled.
"What? You trying to scare us? Think your silence is gonna impress someone?!"
He raised his fist.
But he never got to strike.
Yun raised his hand.
The Force surged — invisible but commanding.
Drek's fist froze in midair, halted just inches from Yun's face.
His eyes widened.
His arm shook, struggling against an invisible weight.
"What the...?!" he choked.
One of the men reached for a blaster.
Yun didn't even look.
The blaster ripped from his belt, hurled by the Force, and embedded itself in the far wall.
Another charged at him, knife in hand.
Yun flicked a finger.
The man was thrown backward, slammed into a table, breathless.
A fourth froze in place, trembling, hands raised.
"He's a Jedi..." the man whispered. "He's a fucking Jedi..."
Yun stepped forward slowly.
Drek, still suspended in the air, gasped for air.
Yun raised a single finger.
And the Force slammed Drek to the ground.
Silence.
The bar was still.
Only the music played on — grotesque now, like the punchline of a massacre.
Yun rubbed his forehead as the weight of his mistake settled in.
"The Jedi will be after me soon."