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Yavin IV – The Tomb of Exar Kun
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The stone door loomed before us, its ancient Sith inscriptions pulsing faintly with residual energy. The battle behind us had been fierce, but now, standing in the dim glow of our lightsabers, I could feel that our greatest challenge had yet to begin.
Ahsoka ran a gloved hand across the surface of the door, tracing the symbols. "It's not just a door—it's a test."
Shaak Ti nodded. "Exar Kun did not want just anyone to claim his weapon. Whatever is inside will demand more than strength."
I inhaled deeply. "Then let's see what it wants from us."
As I reached out with the Force, the stone shifted, grinding open with a deep rumble. Beyond it, a corridor stretched into darkness, lined with torches that ignited spontaneously, bathing the path in an eerie blue glow. The air inside was thick with ancient power, but it was not entirely Dark. There was something else woven into it—an echo of something deeper, a remnant of a past long forgotten.
We stepped forward, moving carefully into the corridor. The walls whispered as if the temple itself was alive, murmuring words in an ancient Sith dialect. I could barely make them out, but I knew they were meant for us.
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As we entered the main chamber, the door sealed behind us, trapping us in a circular room. At its center stood a pedestal, and resting atop it was the legendary saber of Exar Kun—a double-bladed weapon, its hilt a masterwork of sleek, ancient design, waiting silently for the one worthy to wield it.
Then, the room shifted.
The walls blurred, and suddenly, we were no longer in a temple—we stood in a vast, endless desert under twin suns. The sky was red, unnatural, as if the world itself was bleeding. In the distance, I could see figures—phantoms of Jedi and Sith locked in eternal battle, clashing with fury, their voices drowned in an unseen wind.
A voice echoed around us, deep and ancient.
"You seek the weapon of the fallen. But only those who understand the truth of conflict may wield it."
Shaak Ti turned, scanning the endless horizon. "This is not real. This is a test."
Ahsoka clenched her fists. "I hate mind games."
I stepped forward, my eyes locked onto the saber on the pedestal. "What do you want from us?"
The voice did not answer with words. Instead, the phantoms around us shifted—and then, in an instant, we were each alone.
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We were no longer in the temple.
The stone gave way to a vast black void, stretching into infinity. A suffocating silence pressed against my ears, and the very air itself felt unnatural, like the world had been stripped of all sound and substance.
Then the voice came, deep, resonant, and knowing.
"You seek the weapon of the fallen. But tell me, Jedi…"
The voice fractured, splitting into two tones—one dark, one light.
"What is a Jedi without the Order? What is a warrior without war? What is strength without purpose?"
The void rippled, and suddenly, we were each alone.
The silence shattered. I was standing in a battlefield of ruins, the sky above cracked like glass, streaked with veins of fire.
Bodies lay scattered across the ground—Jedi and Sith alike. Some faces I recognized, others were unfamiliar, but all bore the same fate.
Ahead of me, atop a pile of shattered stone, stood a cloaked figure, his back turned to me. He radiated a powerful yet unsettling presence, as if he were neither fully Sith nor Jedi, but something… beyond.
He spoke without turning. "You have fought. You have won. You have lost. Tell me, Wilhelm Kriss—what is the cost of victory?"
I hesitated. "Victory should bring peace. But it often demands sacrifice."
The figure slowly turned, revealing a reflection of myself—but his eyes burned with a golden glow, flickering with the embers of the Dark Side.
"Then would you give yourself to the fight? To power? To certainty? Peace is a fleeting lie. To wield the weapon of Kun, you must know its true weight."
I felt the Force tighten around me, pressing against my chest like unseen hands. My own reflection raised a blackened lightsaber, its hum distorted, unstable.
"Defend your truth, Jedi. Or be swallowed by the war you claim to fight against."
The battle began.
During Will's test, Ahsoka found herself standing in the ruins of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, the night sky ablaze with the flickering light of fires consuming the great spires of the Order.
A familiar voice echoed through the hollowed halls.
"You left. You survived. And yet, you still fight their battles. Why?"
Stepping forward, she saw herself—but not as she was now. This Ahsoka was clad in Jedi robes, her twin sabers gleaming. Her face was filled with conflict, her eyes shadowed with old wounds that had never healed.
"The Jedi failed. And yet, you serve them again. Tell me, Ahsoka Tano—what do you fight for?"
Ahsoka clenched her fists. "For those who cannot fight for themselves. For those who need a reason to hope."
Her reflection took a slow step forward. "Or is it simply because you do not know who you are without a war? Without a cause?"
The temple shook, the flames raging higher.
Her reflection ignited her sabers, green light flashing. "Prove to me that you fight for something more than ghosts."
Ahsoka raised her blades.
The trial had begun.
At the same time as the two other tests, Shaak Ti stood in a vast desert, stretching endlessly in all directions.
The sun burned a deep red, casting long, endless shadows.
A voice whispered in the wind. "The Force is balance. And yet, you Jedi claim the Light as the only truth. Tell me, Shaak Ti—can you walk the line? Can you see without judgment?"
Before her, the sand shifted, forming into two figures—one robed in pure white, the other in pitch black.
"You call them Sith. You call them Jedi. What difference is there but perspective? Would you strike one down and let the other live? Would you choose a side, or see the truth between them?"
The white figure raised a golden blade. The black figure ignited a crimson saber.
"Choose, Jedi. But know that any choice is a judgment."
The figures charged.
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I parried my shadow's attack, our blades clashing in a storm of sparks. Ahsoka dueled against the ghost of her past, fighting to define what she truly stood for. Shaak Ti held her ground against two forces, refusing to be bound by absolutes.
And then—
The moment came.
I feinted left, then brought my saber in a sharp arc, cutting through my reflection's blade. Ahsoka disarmed her doppelgänger, the illusion flickering out like smoke. Shaak Ti stepped forward, reaching out not with her blade, but with understanding, and the two figures faded into dust.
The void shattered.
We were back in the chamber.
The voice spoke again, reverent and final.
"You understand. But you are not the one."
The saber lifted from the pedestal, floating before us. Its blades ignited—a brilliant, steady blue.
It was a weapon of destruction, but also of discipline. A relic of war, waiting for its rightful wielders.
I stepped forward, and the saber came to me, but as I closed my grip around the hilt, a vision flooded my mind.
Two figures.
A young man, human, with deep brown hair and striking green eyes. A young woman, Twi'lek, her blue skin vibrant, her eyes deep as the ocean.
Then, a name echoed in the Force.
Qel-Droma.
Vao.
I gasped, the vision fading, the saber growing heavy in my hands.
Ahsoka stepped forward. "What did you see?"
I exhaled. "The blade does not belong to me. It belongs to two others. A human and a Twi'lek—both young, but strong in the Force."
Shaak Ti's expression turned thoughtful. "Do you know where they are?"
I nodded. "Tython and Alderaan."
Ahsoka crossed her arms. "Then we find them."
We turned toward the exit.
The search had begun.
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Back aboard the Royal Harpy, Merah was already prepping the ship for departure when we arrived. She glanced at us, arching a brow. "I take it you found something interesting?"
I held up the saber. "You could say that."
She smirked. "So, where to?"
I turned to Ahsoka and Shaak Ti. "Alderaan first. Let's find the first heir."
Merah punched in the coordinates, and the Royal Harpy lifted off, disappearing into the stars.
As I stared at the weapon in my hands, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. The saber had chosen its next wielders.
We just had to find them.
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