The council chamber in Elysiar pulsed with low light, the setting sun bleeding amber across the stained glass of the vaulted dome. A slow, almost meditative silence filled the room as holographic reports scrolled through the air—highlighted with key data points, system projections, and real-time images from Beacon sites across the galaxy.
Tywin stood, fingers tented, analyzing a sector-by-sector breakdown of deployed aid units.
"Fourteen confirmed resettlements," he reported, his voice as measured as always. "Forty-nine stabilization zones. Two of them are growing into permanent communities already."
Serin nodded, her eyes skimming through aerial images. "Atmospheric stabilizers are functioning beyond projection in six out of seven harsh zones. We can begin refining the deployment patterns for efficiency."
Revas, seated farther down the table, looked up from a datapad. "And the rumors? What's the political blowback?"
Tywin's mouth tightened.
"The usual. Praise in public, suspicion in private. Half the senators on Coruscant are convinced we're angling for control over the Outer Rim. The other half want to buy our Beacon tech."
Adam leaned forward.
"And the people?"
Mara answered this time.
"They believe. You can't fake the look in someone's eyes when they walk into shelter after weeks under bombardment. You can't manufacture that kind of relief."
The table fell quiet for a moment.
Adam exhaled. "Then it's working."
They all nodded.
Project Beacon—their greatest act of outreach—had made its mark. Dozens of systems touched. Hundreds of thousands fed, sheltered, stabilized.
Elysiar was no longer a secret.
It was becoming a symbol.
Later – The Second Gathering
Days passed.
The sky above Elysiar began to shift in subtle, unnatural ways. Not visibly—but in presence. Those attuned to the Force felt it like a vibration beneath the ground, a faint pull behind the eyes.
Mara was the first to voice it.
"He's getting closer."
They were back in the council chamber—but this time, the light was dimmed, the conversation heavier.
Artorias stood behind Adam, silent and unreadable. Revas sat with his hands folded, his brow furrowed in thought. Sylva, the Nightsister seer, remained near one of the tall windows, watching the horizon with an expression somewhere between reverence and unease.
"The Force is no longer just whispering," Mara said. "It's warning us."
Adam nodded slowly. "He's not hiding. He's approaching."
"And he's powerful," Revas added, his voice unusually quiet. "Not just in the Force. In conviction. In rage."
Serin's eyes narrowed. "How do we fight something like that?"
Tywin, pragmatic as ever, raised a brow. "Do we?"
Everyone turned.
"We don't know who he is, or what he wants. We've built a city meant to avoid war—not invite it."
"Balance doesn't mean avoidance," Mara said sharply. "It means preparation."
Adam rose, stepping to the center of the room.
"We can't risk him reaching the city without a plan. Not just for defense… but for containment."
He brought up the system display, pulling up the city's central defense schema.
"We'll need:
Reinforced shield harmonics around the Vault.
Direct recall protocols for fleet assets in nearby systems.
A mobile task force led by Artorias and the Spartans—if containment is necessary outside the city.
Emergency evacuation paths for civilians to secured zones beneath the southern ridge."
Revas tilted his head. "And if he comes for the Vault?"
Adam looked at Mara.
She answered, voice hard.
"Then we meet him there."
That Night – Elysiar Sleeps Uneasily
The sky was clear.
The stars above Elysiar shimmered peacefully.
But below the peace, the Force hummed with tension—like the string of a bow drawn too tight.
Adam stood on the Spire's highest balcony, staring into the dark.
Mara joined him in silence.
"I've never felt anything like this," Adam admitted.
"He's old," Mara murmured. "Older than most remember. But this isn't just about age or power. This is something... deeper. A wound that hasn't healed."
Adam glanced sideways. "You think he can be reasoned with?"
She didn't answer immediately.
"No. But maybe he can be understood. And that might be the only way we survive what's coming."