#cal kestis x a different fate

[smeraldo-heart]

I know it’s for plot progression reasons but how did we all skate past the fact that:

A) Cal had a lightsaber slice across his chest deep enough to seriously wind him (which was also immediately forgotten and not shown for game reasons but would definitely scar and be insanely painful)

B) got shot through the chest/shoulder area with a blaster (which was also immediately forgotten and not shown afterwards even though it made him pass out)

C) had to drag himself across Jedha after receiving both of these injuries as fast as he could, avoiding Empire, only to get back to the Archives too late and relive Cere dying in a Force echo (we don’t get told he does this but what else would he have done? How else did he get back to the Mantis? We know he had to have gotten back to the Archives first somehow)

D) fought Bode and got choked (somehow still having the energy despite having several heavy duty fights one after another and never stopping once, even to take care of his injuries. It’s crazy.)

ALL WITHIN THE SAME COUPLE OF DAYS??!!!

[creative-frequency]

Inquisitor!Cal Kestis x Reader: Free Time

Word count: 1564 Pairing: Inquisitor!Cal Kestis x Reader Notes: I had a mighty need for inquisitor Cal, asked what kind of scenarios would you guys like to read and here we go.

My Writing Masterlist

He is always training.

Alone.

You don’t know much about this new Inquisitor who some call unofficially the Eleventh Brother. There would be plenty enough numbers available among the first ten. Some even whisper that he is the next Grand Inquisitor. He doesn’t look that special to you, but you don’t want to go close enough to get a better look.

With the way he handles the red lightsaber, it’s clear that he is no stranger to the weapon. After a few sparring matches, the Purge Troopers quickly learned to avoid him in training spaces. Everyone gives him a wide berth.

Former Jedi Cal Kestis is always training because when he isn’t, he can hear his own thoughts, screaming inside his head. There is no one to talk to, no one to drown the thoughts with. The other Inquisitors barely treat him as equal, most often settling for avoidance. The feeling is mutual.

Cal feels the yearning for companionship, but there is none he can trust now. None who would comfort or encourage him. Getting physically exhausted and falling into dreamless sleep makes his new life somewhat more bearable. There is no light in his existence now. Just aimless darkness where he wanders, trying to hold his head above the surface. He is just surviving.

Attending to your duties at the Fortress Inquisitorius, you have no time to stare at the new Inquisitor, as handsome as he may be. He is swinging the double-bladed lightsaber in a speed that makes you dizzy. You don’t like the way the Second Sister looks at him, like a trophy from a hunt. It makes you feel sick but there is nothing you can do, especially show your disgust.

Nur wouldn’t have been your first choice, but one can’t exactly say no to a direct order. So you just focus on the job and hope that a new order will come soon.

It’s been two years.

Working in maintenance isn’t the most exciting career under the rule of the Galactic Empire. At least you don’t have to torture or murder anyone, only look the other way when someone else does. Things like that tend to numb people. You’re not proud of it. You’re just surviving.

Most of your coworkers are droids. Sometimes you hear people joking that you’re leading an army of your own. You tend to avoid the Troopers and especially the Inquisitors. Keeping a low profile is not just the best tactic to stay alive on the planet, it’s a necessity.

With a job that mainly requires only hands, you have too much time to think and wait for the comlink to spark into life.

“Requiring maintenance on residential level. Over.”

An everyday occurrence. You sigh. “What seems to be the problem? Over.”

“Another blasted lock. Apartment 2-5-7-K. Over.”

Gripping the comlink, you bite your lip. Shit. Anything over 250 means it’s an Inquisitor’s door. You’d best hurry.

“I’m on my way. Over.”

A blasted lock. You wonder what the reason is this time. What Trooper was stupid enough to draw a weapon in the hallways? They probably paid for the insolence with their life. Maybe there was a skirmish with one of the prisoners or someone tried to escape. Wouldn’t be the first time. You try to think of something else.

The hallway is fortunately empty so you speed walk to the right door. 257K. After a short inspection it seems that the lock is not actually broken, the door just needs some basic maintenance. The room hasn’t been in use for a long time but apparently someone has moved in recently. You make a mental note to bump it higher up on the priority list and to make sure a droid is taking care of it.

“It just needs adjustment, right?”

A scream almost flees you and you drop the servodriver.

The red-head Inquisitor stands next to you, slightly crouched to see better what you’re doing. You didn’t hear anyone approaching.

“Would’ve fixed it myself if I had the tools,” he continues, ignoring your almost heart attack.

“I’m sorry! This’ll be ready in a minute,” you say hastily and try not to look at the freckles on his face.

The Inquisitor’s brows crease closer together when you don’t look him in the eye.

“Okay,” he simply replies and leans against the wall, arms folding on his chest and looking like he isn’t going anywhere soon. If anything, he seems to enjoy watching you panic. A light smirk on his face and all.

You feel the eyes on your back as you work as fast as you can, checking and testing the connectors. Some of them need to be changed soon and that requires another order of spare parts. You just love paperwork and spending the Empire’s credits.

“Can you take a look at the AC inside? It’s been acting up.”

The servodriver almost falls from your grip again. You turn around to bow your head to the Inquisitor. Your eyes are obstinately drawn to the lightsaber resting against his thigh. “Of course, sir.”

The constant feeling of “I hope he doesn’t kill me” in your gut makes your hands shake but somehow you manage to make sure the lock works again. The Inquisitor still leans on the wall, looking like he has all the time in the world to just hang out. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him outside the dojo.

“There. Is it okay if I go in to check the AC now?” You don’t want to look him in the eye and with your every cell hope that he will leave now and let you work in peace.

Not a chance.

He shows you inside and stays hovering nearby as you try to calm yourself enough to work. He can’t seem to take his eyes off you. Something about you, watching you is… itching him.

“The thermostat seems to be broken, sir.” You dare a peek at the Inquisitor. He doesn’t seem as intimidating as the others and is actually younger than you initially thought. “I’ll need to go fetch some parts but I’ll set a static room temperature for now.”

“Okay.” He runs his hand through his ginger hair and sighs. “Can’t you just make a droid bring the parts?”

You blanch. “Uh, yes. Of course, I just thought it’d be faster if… I go… myself…” Your voice trails off under the cryptically meaningful look in his eyes.

Cal examines you, circling around in a slow, lazy arc. He has noticed you before even though you actively make every effort to not stand out. He felt something spark inside him in the hallway and he needs a moment to realize it’s curiosity that brings life to his dull existence. The feeling has some exhilarating new shades and he wonders is it because you look like a cornered animal, shaking in fear.

It excites him.

“Sir?” you squeak and can’t form the follow up question because Cal takes a step towards you.

“Who are you?” he asks slowly, gaze trained onto your face, eyes boring holes into your mind. His pulse is quickened like in the thick of a combat and he cannot understand why.

“Um, I’m not sure I– I’m just a technician. I’ve got clearance, y-you see… I can show you my ID…” you stutter and fumble a hand into your chest pocket to fish out the ID card. “See?”

Cal doesn’t even spare a glance at it.

“Yeah. I’m not interested in that,” he says coolly. He stands close enough to either strangle or hug you – though you know he wouldn’t need to get close and personal to kill you. You’re starting to panic.

“Sorry…” you peep, “Can I…”

Go?

You can’t finish the sentence because the Inquisitor leans forward and plants a gloved hand against the wall over your shoulder – a predator enjoying one last sniff of his prey before the killing blow.

All of your jittering ends and you completely freeze. The whimper that escapes your lips doesn’t sound like you at all. He has so many freckles and the feeling they enact in you acts as the perfect opposite to what their owner is doing. As good-looking as he may be, getting within a kissing distance to the Inquisitor wasn’t on your bucket list.

However, while you’re waiting perfectly still – in spite of your racing heart – for his next move, Cal hesitates. The excitement that spurred him into taking the initiative is gaining an altogether different tone. He is suddenly nervous and has to ball his hand into a fist to stop it from shaking.

You stare at each other, mere inches away and lightly gasp for breaths. The menacing Inquisitor aura is gone and you curse him for toying with you like that since there’s no way you can forget this ever happened. For a fleeting moment, you think should you just kiss him and be done with it – and gamble your life on his goodwill.

Cal finally loses his nerve and leaves without so much as a word or a glance at your direction.

You wait for a few stunned breaths to hear if he is coming back after the fateful sizzle of the door. Your head is positively spinning by the time you make it out alive from the quarters of Inquisitor Cal Kestis.

You hope nothing breaks in his room again.

//

Part 2

[capricornus-rex]

Someone Left to Save (13)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: The Mantis crew arrives to the capital of Ulfin, in the planet of Pevera, under siege. They meet the local rebel cell spearheaded by the former Republic admiral, Jax Beneb, who seeks to destroy the Empire’s occupation that was aggressively imposed upon while exploiting the planet of its natural resources. A plan is devised to destroy the Imperial’s main base of operations—as well as their influence—in the planet; however, it was a do-or-die mission that you and Cal had gotten yourselves caught in.

A/N: Late post again, but the AO3 version got there first because it was easier to format aaah I want my laptop fixed soon ;_;

Tags: Force-Sensitive! Reader, Inquisitor! Reader, Jedi! Reader, Fake Death, Jedi turned Inquisitor, Seduction to the Dark Side, Turn to the Dark Side, The Dark Side of the Force, Aftermath of Torture, Torture, Psychological Torture, Redemption Arc! Reader, Possible Redemption, Premonitions

Also in AO3

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 – 10 – 11 | Previous: Part 12 | Next: Part 14 | Masterlist

13 of ?

It has been hours since Cal encountered you. He’s in the Mantis recovering, and still wrapping his head around everything. In fact, his mind is still in a jumble after your reunion of a duel.

He can’t meditate for long periods of time, he constantly tosses and turns in bed when he decides to rest, and he religiously reads your profile as an Inquisitor on BD-1’s databank.

“Twelfth Sister, huh?” Cal mumbled behind his clasped hands over his lips.

He intently stares at the written portion of your profile.

He pondered out loud, “I don’t even wanna think about how long they’ve kept her there until they broke her, or how long she’s been doing missions until she’s completely desensitized like the rest.”

“Bee…” BD-1 chirped sadly.

Cal shakes his head, erasing such gruesome thoughts.

“No, she’s not like them. She’s still not fully gone yet. I know her…”

BD trills in reply, astonished just how cemented the boy’s resolve and optimism is.

“[Y/N] still has a choice, I hope she understands that,” he added.

A migraine abruptly jabs at Cal like a dagger to the stomach. Screams, explosions, and blaster fire echoed as an awful-sounding medley in his skull. It took him a few good moments before the sounds quietened. His little droid chirped worriedly as he watched Cal shudder and go woozy.

“I think the town’s in trouble, BD!”

BD knew what was up just from that simple outburst, he hopped on Cal’s shoulder before the boy could even stand up and scamper out of his room. He jumped over the set of stairs, slammed a button, and slipped through the entry door left ajar, disappearing from the Mantis; he didn’t run off right away, he waited for the exterior compartment door to open, revealing a compact speeder bike stored inside and sped away to the city.

He already knew the culprit, he only hoped that you haven’t done enough irreversible damage yet.

Contrary to Cal’s foresight, you haven’t wreaked havoc… yet.

Upon your arrival to the small city, you saw how sparse the Imperial security is.

You approached a Stormtrooper donning a red pauldron on his right shoulder, he straightened his posture as soon as he saw you.

“Are these all your men, Commander?”

“No, ma’am, they’re my patrol unit. I have more fanned out in different sectors. Should there be any problem, I’ll have reinforcements ready.”

“Good, because you should. The Jedi’s quite an elusive one,”

“If we spot him, we’ll deal with him,”

You nodded, impressed by this leader’s confidence. You inquired if there are any Purge Troopers dispatched in the city, you called for two of them to your position, they arrived within minutes.

“Two of you come with me,” you commanded with a steel voice. “If you find the Jedi, do not attempt to kill him. He’s mine for the taking.”

The three of you mounted on individual speeders, they followed you. Solely relying on instinct and feeling based on what you had back at the garrison, your party ended up in a small residential compound.

You’ve pinpointed the exact locations where that ripple in the Force is originating—from a house at the western side. However, your welcome wagon from the locals is rather cold. Anyone who can carry a gun held their ground, at the corner of your eye, you spot a little family of three: mother, father, and infant boy.

You knew right away the source.

The man saw through your faceless helmet, father’s intuition spiking up when he knew that exact intention of that ominous turn of your head to his son.

“You,” the ignition of the saber startled everyone, including the family; they held their ground, safety locks from all of the blasters clicked with the barrels aimed either at you or the Purge Troopers. Your men returned the gesture, but you signaled them to hold their fire. You lowered your saber to point at his son. “You know he has it, don’t you?”

Apparently, not many were aware of what you’re talking about, but the parents knew all too well. Even he pointed his own blaster at you. This demonstrative warning didn’t intimidate you, not in the smallest bit, instead you received them with a sinister chuckle—which left them in a collective puzzlement.

In the slightest movement, someone did the first shot but you deflected it with a superhuman precision and speed—intentional or otherwise, they feared for their life as they’ve come to realize they made that mistake. And then in the next split second, they never saw you coming. A barrage of blaster fire came from all sides. A few Stormtroopers near the area got themselves involved when they heard the firefight. While they’re busy exchanging bullets, you went after the mother who ran away from the action; her husband didn’t stand a chance against you—incapacitating him by hammering his jaw with your saber’s pommel.

The apartment where the woman went into hiding was a maze, halls upon halls of doors, she thinks she’s outsmarted you. You stood still and felt for the child’s Force signature amongst the rooms. Its fussing echoed in your mind until you turned to the direction where you think it’s coming from. Your eyes shot open and you bolted through the narrow hallway, a single kick broke down the door—startling both mother and wailing child.

“Don’t make this any harder for me,” you snarled, pointing your saber at the trembling woman.

She didn’t cooperate. Her hand aimlessly wandered the floor in search of anything to throw at you. She threw a small statuette in your face but you casually dodged it—all too easy, but it vexed you that she did exactly what you didn’t want her to do. When she found herself helpless, she scrambled up to her feet and made a run for it—but you were faster. The chase led to a dead end, you snuck up behind her as she looks at the wall with sheer horror in her eyes.

“I told you to not make it harder for me, woman,” you hiss from behind, and gave her the same fate as her husband.

You broke her fall by catching her, along with the child whom you snatched from her arms, you returned to the scene of the action only to hear not a hail of projectiles but silence, the baby seems to be calmed down by it. You stopped where you stood, listening for a sign of fighting, but there was nothing. You prepared yourself for whatever you’re going to see. The residents are gone—probably scampered back to their homes—and your Purge Troopers had Cal preoccupied, his back was turned to you as he fought them off, a couple of Stormtroopers lay dead on the ground evidently Cal’s handiwork.

Cal spots you, the Purge Troopers withdraw from the fight when they read the room. The young Jedi immediately turned around to the direction where the enemies were looking at.

“Well now, two heroics in a row! That ought to be a new record, darling,”

“I know what you’re planning to do with that kid, [Y/N]!”

You nasally scoffed, “Trilla was right. You are uncharacteristically prescient!”

“Why don’t you come and face me! It’s me you want!”

“What a brilliant idea!” You gestured at one Purge Trooper to come and retrieve the child. You spotted Cal flinching as soon as the trooper’s hands touched the baby’s swaddle. Both you and the troopers were alerted and positioned in different stances.

“Ah-ah-ah!” you cautiously held your hand above the child’s face. “Don’t do anything that you’d regret, Cal! Believe me, I still have enough humanity to not kill a child in cold blood. Do not convince me otherwise.”

Cal stood down, giving in to your bluff, and forced himself to relax—despite having an Electrohammer Purge Trooper standing behind him with his held in an offensive stance. He watches the other Purge Trooper scoop the child off your arms, your lightsaber takes its place in your hands. Igniting both ends, you point the haloed sleeve in front of the Jedi.

“Let’s dance, darling!”

Finishing what you started, you locked blades with Cal once again. This time, your arena has gotten wider and more open. Cal had no time in apprehending the Purge Troopers with the child and escaped on their speeder bikes. He split his sabers and dual-wielded to match you, but it was useless, he didn’t even realize that you have gotten more skillful and stronger. He’d hate to admit that he was saved by sheer luck back at the temple.

He comes charging at you with an overhead strike, but both ends of your saber blocked left and right sabers altogether. Cal saw the whites of your knuckles as you put more pressure on your gripping arm, your boots barely skidded in the dust when his attack landed on your block, and you flashed him a cocky yet ominous smirk.

“You feel it, don’t you? My strength—it’s too great to bear, isn’t it?”

Although covered, Cal sees the prideful, malicious grin stretched across your face through that dark mask; he could’ve sworn he saw the glint in your eyes—they were sorrowful in expression masking it with rage until no one can mistake it for the other. He knew that you’re still human, unlike the others you call brothers and sisters.

“But you’re no better for what you are right now!”

Cal pushes you away with the Force, enough to put some space between you and himself. You then lobbed your saber at him, spinning like a fan, cutting the air in a clean semi-circle, and he deflected it—as expected—before catching it. You did it a second time, and again, he succeeded in deflecting it.

“Remember what Cere taught us: as long as we’re alive, we will always have a choice!”

“Funny,” your hand snappily catches your saber. “I knew you were gonna say something like that!”

He cancels out the third time you’re about to fling your saber at him, and finally deals some damage—one of the few instances that he actually does—and gradually regained his momentum in the  battle. The two of you have become so enamored in the fight that both of you didn’t notice you’ve moved to the back of the compound, away from the main square where the duel initiated.

In this smaller space, you two were completely alone. The intensity felt more intimate yet frightening. Cal saw how your eyes blazed with hatred and anger for him, albeit misplaced and corrupted within you.

“[Y/N], please listen to me: I didn’t abandon you. I swear it,” he calmly said, through the intertwining of your blades.

“Spare me, Cal, I—”

You notice his sleeve roll down, the glimmer of metal caught your eye. You recognize your bracelet worn around his wrist. For a brief second, your block loosened and he felt it.

“You… You kept it?”

“Always have,” Cal takes a deep breath. “And I’m sorry for this, [Y/N].”

Cal pulls the same trick he did on Trilla. In order to disarm you: he switched off his saber mid-block which, in turn, caught you off-guard for a second time—with the sight of the bracelet being the first, spontaneous one—and staggered you real hard. Before you could even react or resist, he inflicts Force Slow on you—and so your limbs felt heavy and hard like stone, it feels as though you’re being encased in wet plaster that’s drying off quickly. While the chance is ripe for the taking, he runs up to you and takes your hand. The wave of emotions thrashing in you like a wild ocean riptide was overwhelming, but he fought it and there’s literally nothing you can do about it.

And that’s where he saw every, single thing.

Fed with lies. Trained with hate. Survived by agony.

Cal’s Force Echo on yourself was painless but it made you a tad bit nauseated. You could feel your very life essence being forcibly siphoned out of your body, at the same time, your memories and feelings transfer to Cal—as if he was the one experiencing them firsthand.

The prickle of electric current on his skin made his nerves jerk, enough to prompt his muscles to let go; the great exhaustion that your body endured burdened itself on Cal’s chest—making him feel out of breath—then the deafening clash of weapons, the battle grunts, and all the taunts meant to torment your mind: all of those Cal endured, through the trance of the Force Echo.

You fight the tears from escaping your eyes, but he didn’t, he let them trickle on his cheeks; withstanding the pain took more willpower than matching your strength in the swordfight.

“Oh [Y/N]... what have they done to you?” he gasped.

“They… made me stronger!” you struggled to speak while under the influence of the Force Slow.

Cal shakes his head, tightening his grip around your hand, “No, that isn’t strength. This isn’t you.”

The gentleness in his voice vexed you and touched at the same time. More emotions pile on top of the other as they conflict in you, the confusion was mind-numbing.

“You just don’t want to admit it, because you’re afraid,” he added.

You’re on the verge of tears, because even if you don’t want to admit it, he’s somewhat right and you hate how right he always is.

“I am not afraid!” you hiccuped, nearly sobbing. “I don’t have to be afraid of the Inquisitors, you, or anything!”

You finally broke free from the hold of the Slow, you violently shook off Cal’s hand from yours, and popped a flashbomb to escape. When the smoke had cleared, Cal found himself alone in that small backside of the compound. More Stormtroopers flooding into that space gave him company, completely surrounding him; just when they thought they had the upper hand, their mistake of underestimating them became their undoing, the Jedi made quick work and felled them all, clearing the path for himself back to the Mantis while you hopped on another speeder and fled out of the city to return to the garrison.

[milkysunflowers]

Cal Kestis x Reader P.3

Cal Kestis x Reader |Original story rewrite

Word Count: 1575

A/N: Sorry this came out late lol I’ve been consumed by writing for twenty other projects

Life on the Mantis wasn't always the easiest, it was actually kind of boring. Nothing to do except talk to Greez when Cere was too busy on the comms. Sometimes you and the Latero would sit at the kitchen, telling stories over meals and having the time of your lives. At first Greez's stories were incredibly entertaining, but there's only so many stories one person could have. So now the days in which stories weren't being shared, consisted of you sleeping to pass the long stretches of time between hyperspace jumps. And today was no different.

You were currently sat at the couch again, your arms laid across the back of the seat and legs crossed. Mulling over what had happened a few hours prior you had completely spaced out again, unaware of your surroundings when suddenly your mind was invaded by thoughts of Cal. He reminded you of yourself, a child lost in the midst of a war. Whose livelihood and innocence was violently ripped away from them, who had to mature much faster than a child ever should. He also reminded you in that even though you were now an adult and a hardened criminal, that deep down you were just a child terrified out of your mind. Soon, anxieties started to flood your mind.

Could you really restore the order? Could Cal? What if the Empire beat you to it? Questions and doubts raced through your mind a mile a minute. Not liking where your mental state was headed you decided to annoy Greez. Still sitting down you yell out to the short creature.

"Greez! Greeeezz!!" A loud clang came from the back of the ship, from where the cabins were and soon out came your beloved pilot.

"What do ya want, kid? Can't you see I'm busy?" He states, his lower set of arms sat comfortably at his hips, the upper set gesturing at you. You grin at him, clearly amused attention fact that you're inconveniencing him.

"Actually no I couldn't, but what I can see, is that I'm bored. Come on sit next to me, what do you think of the newbie?" You scoot over, allowing Greez to sit next to you. As he sits, you can see him think hard on his answer.

"Well I don't really know, just met the kid. He seems ok, like a nice kid ya know?" He explains to you. He had a point, Cal had only been with you for a few hours and now he was in the spare bed dead asleep. Ruffling your hair you shift in your seat uncomfortably. Greez eyes you curiously.

"What's up Y/N? I haven't seen you this off put since, well, ever." Greez moves to look you in the eyes. You shake your head and let out an airy chuckle, you highly doubt Greez could ever understand. How do you confide in your friend that you see a reflection of yourself in Cal. That deep down you doubt Cere and her ambitions, that you doubt yourself and everything you believe in.

"It's nothing Greez, I'm fine. I guess I'm just stressed." You rub your face in irritation. Your eyes suddenly feeling heavy and your shoulders tense. Greez seemingly satisfied with your answer stands up.

"Yeah, alright Y/N. You know I'm always here for ya... I'mma go check on the kid, I think I hear him messin' around back there." He spoke softly. You gave a curt nod, bidding a 'see you later' to Greez. A few minutes later, Greez walked back into the cockpit, Cal close after him. The young red head stops at the small coffee table, eyeing Cere's guitar. Picking it up he sits in the seat adjacent to you, taking a moment before strumming its strings gently, yet expertly. You eye him curiously, how did anyone who grew up on a ship wrecking planet know how to play a guitar? Hearing the tune Cere came out.

"That song... I wrote it, years ago. You touch an object and witness events connected to it. You feel its history." Cere states, looking at Cal with wonder and awe. He shifts in his seat, setting the instrument down gently.

"It's an... echo in the Force from the object." Cal hesitantly starts out.

"Not many Jedi have that skill." Cere sits down close to Cal, feeling like a third wheel you decide to speak.

"Yeah Cal, psychometry is an extremely rare and powerful Force ability. I wish I had something that unique." You tell Cal, moving closer to the pair in front of you on the couch. They snap their heads to look at you, almost as if they had just realized that you were there the whole time.

"How would you guys know that?" The young boy asked wearily, not liking the fact that both you and Cere were poking around his Force connection.

"I was once a Jedi-"

"Padawan." You interjected Cere's sentence, raising a hand as to identify yourself.

"But not anymore." She finishes.

"Do I know you two?" Cal asks, hope laced in his words yet again, just like when he first came on board.

"No. But I knew your Master, Jaro Tapal. He was a true guardian of the Republic." You watched Cere intently, observing her as she reminisced over better times. You and Cere were very different people, you were brash and unapologetic she was patient and serene, yet you could relate to her more than you'd like to admit. You also missed your padawan days, when you were blissfully ignorant to the slowly crumbling world around you.

"He was a hero. Listen... something happened to me during the Purge. I survived, but... my connection the Force is damaged. When I meditate, if I let my guard down, I lose control. It's like I'm in that moment when-" Cal starts, looking back and forth between you and the women next to him, his lip quivering. Obviously uncomfortable with the idea of opening up about his past.

"You survived, Cal. And you're not alone. Not anymore." She looks him straight in the eye, millions of words and emotions being exchanged yet none actually being physically expressed. She looks at you, the look in her eyes softening. Cal's eyes following her line of sight. You offer him a soft, knowing smile in return. Letting him know that another person was on his side.

"We're comin' up on our destination." Greez's gruff voice coming on through the ship's intercom. You look up, in feign acknowledgment that the conversation had not only ended but in acknowledgment of the pilot's words. You all stand up, heading to the cockpit ready to make the final jump to Bogano.

Walking down the ramp with the other two 'Jedi', you take in the view of the beautifully serene planet. The warm and gentle rays dancing on your skin. The Mantis was great for your needs, but being on actual soil for once was nice, even if it was all muddy.

"This is Bogano. A Jedi I knew discovered it before the Purge. You won't find it on any maps." Cere speaks with diligence and preciseness, you always did admire that about her.

"The Empire doesn't know this place exists?" Cal exclaims in disbelief. You couldn't blame him, after all the Empire always did find a way to infect and get their hands on everything.

"No." Cere confirms.

"So? What's the plan? We... hide out here?" He questions, not knowing the full reason as to why you were all here in the first place. Cere turns to look at you, you snap out of your daze, again.

"Oh, sorry..." You mumble, getting the hint you walk up to the pair. "We're done hiding, Cal. Look, you see that structure over there? Well, we believe that Vault holds the key to rebuilding the Jedi Order. But, uh, we kinda need someone whose strong in the Force." You explain to the boy in front of you, your hands poised at your hips.

"And since you're not Jedis anymore, that's why you need me." He spits, implication behind his every word. Cere decides to step in, she was always better with words.

"I know you don't trust us, and I think I speak for both Y/N and I when I say that I'm not really sure we trust you. But we have a common enemy, and a common cause. I'll share more of my plan after you reach the Vault. But, until then, there's someone here I think you should meet." She looks at you knowingly, turning to head back into the Mantis. Guiding you back in with a hand on your upper back.

"May the Force be with you." She comments, not looking back. You however, crane your neck back to meet Cal's eyes. Final farewells being exchanged. As soon as the doors close behind you and the former Jedi next to you, you turn to her.

"You think he's up for it?" You inquire, your anxieties manifesting again. Cere pauses for a brief moment, processing your question. She sighs before meeting your eyes.

"He's my- he's our last option, Y/N. I would've chosen you, but-" She leaves the meaning of her words up for interpretation as she walks away. You knew what she meant, a pang of guilt lashing harshly at your heart.

You could only put your hopes onto Cal now, the fates of every innocent being depending on him.

[capricornus-rex]

Someone Left to Save (3)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: The Mantis crew arrives to the capital of Ulfin, in the planet of Pevera, under siege. They meet the local rebel cell spearheaded by the former Republic admiral, Jax Beneb, who seeks to destroy the Empire’s occupation that was aggressively imposed upon while exploiting the planet of its natural resources. A plan is devised to destroy the Imperial’s main base of operations—as well as their influence—in the planet; however, it was a do-or-die mission that you and Cal had gotten yourselves caught in.

Tags: Force-Sensitive! Reader, Inquisitor! Reader, Jedi! Reader, Fake Death, Jedi turned Inquisitor, Seduction to the Dark Side, Turn to the Dark Side, The Dark Side of the Force, Aftermath of Torture, Torture, Psychological Torture, Redemption Arc! Reader, Possible Redemption, Premonitions

Also in AO3

Chapters: Part 1 | Previous: Part 2 | Next: Part 4 | Masterlist

3 of ?

The Second Brother’s hand barely touched you, his clawed gloves hovered mere inches away from your face, but you could feel the energy escaping your entire body and then enter his fingers in the form of white, translucent tendrils. The sensation was similar to drowning—sinking, rather—with a weight tied to your ankles, the farther you plummet the more air you are deprived of. Your throat roughed up on its own as you gagged for oxygen. When you thought you were kicking your legs to perhaps swing yourself out, your ankles were all but a pair of spastic, twitching joints—any more and you just might tear your tendons due to the desperation brought by your fight-or-flight instinct.

It’s excruciating. Extremely.

You could feel like your heart would stop any moment now, unable to withstand this overwhelming sensation.

With your guard down, he got back at you in breaking your balance—kicking you in the shin so your stance falters—and then held you by the scruff of your shirt as he continued stealing what could be your Force energy. As he stole your essence, he took satisfaction in your bodily throes that were nothing more but feeble attempts to slip away from his grasp.

“Not so slippery, aren’t you, my little thorn?”

For every inch of translucent mist that wafted out you cannot breathe, your head felt heavy for each time the veins on your temples throbbed, and your vision went dim as you avoided eye contact with the Second Brother. Whatever form of escape you attempt, everything was pointless.

You are literally in the Second Brother’s grasp.

It is mercy that he has not killed you yet.

Although he decided to make a plaything out of your agony.

“LET ME GO!!! LET… M-ME… G-G-GO!!!” you ear-shattering plea fell to deaf, sadistic ears.

As you suffer with every violent jerk of your body—so much so that it cramped your muscles—every labored, through-the-teeth breath, and the frenzied shifting of your eyes to fight off the dimming—all of these reactions to the intolerable, inhumane pain that you’re experiencing right now does not seem to sate this Inquisitor.

Through his wicked Force ability, he was able to see everything in the recesses of your mind—your memories, dreams and nightmares, and fears. He bore witness to the nightmare that has haunted two nights ago until the eve of this very day. The Second Brother wanted to make sure that you will see and realize that your motivation is also your weakness.

“Now I see whom that fire burns for,” he purred.

His cackling began with a wheeze, muffled yet still audible through his mask’s ornate face plate. As he looked into your shifty eyes, he mocks you by watching your nightmare play like a film… over and over again, to his liking.

All of a sudden, his strength appears to have double compared to hours ago. The longer he inflicts this agonizing power over you, the more you submit to your knees—with the toll of the pain becoming more and more unbearable.

This was a dark, distorted mirror image of Cal’s own ability: Psychometry. His and the Second Brother’s abilities are near-identical; the only difference is that the Inquisitor has yet to demonstrate that he can manipulate his victim’s visions to his whim—bending them, poisoning them, and ultimately changing them—to further twist what they truly convey. This is a capability that he has earned through the Dark Side of the Force.

“I can see him heading this way right now,”

“Liar! He’s out there fighting with the others,”

“Oh, I never lie. I may be bad, little thorn, but I do not lie—it’s a lesser, lamer evil, in my opinion.”

“And I am supposed to believe you—of all people? I’d rather believe a pile of Bantha shit if it talked!”

The fight dragged on, while it did, Cal tore his way through the enemy fronts, leaving lifeless Stormtroopers in his wake—but he hasn’t gotten any closer to the stronghold to get to you. From where he stood, he could see the rebels that you came with pour out of the entrance, some of them leaped from the towers, taking the enemy by surprise and flanking them.

He squinted his eyes through the battlefield, he couldn’t spot you—he knew what you wore and none of those figures in the distance matched.

“Where are you, [Y/N]?” Cal growled in frustration and growing fear.

The Inquisitor continued to siphon your Force energy out of your system, leaving barely an ounce from the vessel.

When he’s had enough of it, he releases his grip from the collar of your shirt and then you felt a row of solid, metal knuckles slammed to your cheekbone. You literally saw stars, mere white specks dancing behind your eyes as the surroundings blurred; you can barely make a proper stance, let alone stand straight. The Inquisitor laughed in mockery.

“With every step he takes, the closer that nightmare of yours becomes a reality,” he cooed.

“Just shut up!”

“Oh, and would you look at the time?” he chirped in his trademark singsong tone, only this time it was sarcastic and meant to taunt you.

Eleven minutes remain on the clock.

You spot this from the nearest time-bomb at the corner of your eye.

“Do you still think you can play around with fate, little thorn?”

There still some fight left in you, though your battle was both physical and mental, it’s difficult enough to deal with the physical—what more of the latter?

Being drained of your Force essence was relative to losing a lot of blood—you’re nauseous and groggy, your vision’s fogged and wobbly, and your grip can barely keep itself tight. You cannot even hold your defensive stance for more than a minute. You coax yourself to take long, slow, calm breaths—it was effective. Slowly, you recompose yourself.

Your objective in mind is to hold off the Second Brother while affording enough time to escape.

“There is another way of saving him, you know,”

You ultimately hate to admit it… but he’s right.

As he had siphoned the Force out of you, he has also seen through the secrets of your mind. He knew of your fear—the apparent death of Cal. You’ve already figured out that the blinding red and orange light, the ash and soot, all came from the imminent explosion caused by the bombs destroying the reactors.

Little did you know that the solution he had intentionally embedded in your mind was a distortion, a trick, and he smiled to himself sensing full well that you’re slowly biting into the bait.

“Are you really going to let his blood be on your hands? It’s going to be a lot, you might not keep all of it, little thorn,”

“Don’t call me that…” you snarled through the grit of your teeth as you sobbed.

You’re desperate. The longer the clock ticks, the more imminent Cal’s death would be.

Come on, [Y/N], think fast!

You will not allow the Second Brother to get the best of you. A mere second was afforded for you to meditate, to make peace quickly that your last-minute plan is the best and only resort to save Cal—without any other compromise.

I know he’s safe, that’s all that matters. You mouth the words to yourself like a prayer.

With one sweep of the arm, all of the bombs’ timers have been manually changed. Originally, only five minutes were remaining, but you—using the Force—overrode the configuration and set them all to ten seconds. This took the Second Brother by surprise, with the remainder of your strength, you kicked him on the chest and flung him a few inches away; while disoriented, you made a run for it—dashing through the air in the same speed as he did, scaled and skipped a few spokes of the ladder until you hauled yourself to the platform. Doing these doubled the toll your body is already taking, which is struggling to keep you from collapsing; your breath heaved and your own weight suddenly became anvils.

Now that you’ve gotten yourself to high ground, you’ve used up all of your energy and returned to your sluggish, weakened state. The exit is still far off and you can see the digits on the clock.

00:05.

“W-Where’s [Y/N]?” Cal demands an answer from the rebel who ran past him, grabbing the soldier by the sleeve.

“I-I don’t know! An Imp attacked us from nowhere… he’s already killed Yenna!”

“Imp? What Imp?”

“He had a saber like yours, except red.”

The young Jedi let the partisan go. Based on the last thing the rebel said, Cal already knew it was no ordinary Imp.

His fears have come true. Although he was aware of the risks already but he never anticipated you would face an Inquisitor alone!

00:02.

Before Cal could even get any closer to the stronghold, he—along with everyone else, friend and foe alike—stopped dead in his tracks, startled by the rumble that sourced from the building. His eyes widened, his jaw dropped—the red and orange cloud of fire filled the pair of jade eyes—and his heart drummed so loudly that it just might tear right through his ribs and out from his leather armor. Goosebumps pelted his arms, cold sweat trickled on his temples, and the hairs at the back of his neck pricked up.

“No…!” he gasped. When the reality of the explosion eventually sunk into him, despite refusing the truth right in front of him, he roared your name at the top of his lungs—so much so that he wheezed when he inhaled.

“Beeeeeeee!!!!” BD-1 let out of the shrillest, ear-shattering chirp he has ever done in his entire life.

“FALL BACK!!!”

“RETREAT!!”

The Stormtroopers cried in panic, some turned tail and fled, a brave handful kept shooting while slowly stepping back. The rebels gradually overtook the field until the numbers have thinned out in the enemy’s side. Having a complete disregard for his safety, Cal charged through the crossfire, powered yet blinded by pure adrenaline, a few of the partisans called out to him but to no avail.

“CAL, HEY COME BACK!!”

“CAL, COME BACK HERE!!!”

Cal was hindered from coming closer as another minor explosion followed up after the big one. The wind of the blast was enough to fling him away and the couple of partisans who called for him ran and caught up to him. The hooked their arms underneath Cal’s.

“NO, WAIT!!! [Y/N] IS STILL IN THERE!!!” Cal violently kicked and attempted to shake them off his arms, but they’ve held him tight enough to bruise his arms through the sleeves. “GET OFF OF ME!!!”

“Cal, come on! We gotta get out of here!” insisted the male partisan who’s the first to call Cal out when he ran off.

The two young men worked together in hauling Cal out of the fire’s radius—surprisingly, he was heavy for both of them, considering the insistent one was a bit bulkier in stature, but that’s the adrenaline doing its job in his body—the ginger kept his eyes on the blazing stronghold, his emotions have clouded the clarity of his mind as well as his good judgment.

The pair of rebels had regrouped with Cal in tow—who was still being stubborn and difficult to deal with. They reported the one known casualty—the woman who personally called you Little Spark, the woman named Yenna, murdered by the Inquisitor upon making his grand entrance earlier.

Cere personally approached him to greet him back, but when the woman saw that you’re missing, her eyes searched the entire group.

“Where’s [Y/N]?”

“She wasn’t with them when they rendezvoused,”

“Th-Then where?”

Cal’s face lit up and frantically patted his person in search of the compact radar. There was no sign of your blip. He could’ve sworn he saw it blink once before it died out.

“No! My radar’s bust, but I know she’s out there, Cere!”

Cere, unsure of what to make of Cal’s medley of emotions, sighed and spoke nothing. Cal insisted on setting up a search party for you with him personally leading it. The idea was merit, unfortunately, the young redhead isn’t the one calling the shots.

“Whoa, slow down, kid,” the captain in charge stepped into the scene between Cal and Cere. He expresses that he understands what the boy is going through, shell-shocked by the apparent fact that you might have been killed in the explosion, but he also expressed the importance of the survivors’ individual well-being.

“We have to tend the wounded first; and you’re gonna need some equipment if you want to charge through that fire out there,” added the captain.

“I won’t need a lot of men, rather I don’t any,”

The same couple of partisans who hauled Cal against his will—namely Larki and Morzen—cut in directly after Cal’s statement. They volunteered to go with him, thus it’s just the three of them as a search party. They have enough people back in the rendezvous point and the main hideout to care for the wounded and send them back for proper medical attention. The captain personally took and handed over sets of protective gears for Cal and his companions.

The three of them mounted speeder bikes—Cal rode along while Larki and Morzen shared. Cere watched the trio disappear into the horizon and then her head craned to the sky peeking over the trees.

It will be night very soon.

“Your boy sure is persistent,”

“It’s because he feels something is there, and he means what he says,” Cere argued. She nodded sideways to the captain, gesturing him to the tent until their land transport arrives.

[capricornus-rex]

The Haunt of Redemption (3)

Sequel to: A Path I Can’t Follow

gif not mine, for header purposes only. it belongs to @sovahunter​

Chapter 3: Runt of the Litter | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: It has been months since your last encounter with Cal, at that time he was a fledgling Inquisitor. In an ironic twist of fate, you cross paths and blades with him once again, and he’s keen on turning you into an Inquisitor as well—unless you bring him back to the light first.

Tags: Dark Side! Cal Kestis, Inquisitor! Cal Kestis, Redemption Arc! Cal Kestis

Also posted in AO3

Chapters: 1 | Previous: Chapter 2 | Next: Chapter 4 | Masterlist

3 of ?

Koboth remained the unforgiving wasteland that it was.

The Eleventh Brother, the Fortress’s new habitant, was a force that nobody had seen coming.

In the first week since he came in, Cal had already established his authority in the stronghold; it wasn’t the imposing uniform and weapon, nor was it his blank yet steady expression.

It had something to do with his own powers.

Like most of the Inquisitors, he is a Force-sensitive. For someone his age, he was cunning and powerful—one would dare say, even just in their head, that he was above from the other Inquisitors. As accomplished as he might be—he was still the odd one out, the loner, the quiet one. The late Second Sister might have been his equal in terms of combat skill, caliber of Force abilities, and the mental prowess.

“Shame that they put him in a lower rank, I thought he was the new favorite,” the Eighth Sister scoffed one time to the other Inquisitors when he was recently anointed into his rank.

“Not surprised,” the Seventh Sister concurred in the conversation she shared with her fellow Mirialan. “That only meant he still has to prove himself if he wants to climb higher.”

Rarely a time did the other Inquisitors ever approached him, not even for an opinion or insight in their plans, under the impression that he’s too good for them or the other way around. They always spoke of him from a distance or behind his back. Either way, he wouldn’t have minded.

Instead, Cal whiled away his time in the dojo. As a matter of fact, it was the only thing he did out of his own volition—the conferences were compulsory. His only audience? A couple of Stormtroopers assigned to watch over from the control room.

“Wow, he’s really into this whole practice thing,” A Stormtrooper blurted to his comrade. “That’s all he’s ever done since he got here!”

“Yeah, this is the third time this week he’s gone here. I think he’s the only one who actually uses this place—except for the Purge guys.”

They watched as they remained in their post. For every Purge Trooper that came walking out of the holding cells in the dojo, the young Inquisitor wouldn’t make them last long in the duel. The longest he’s gone against with is a pair of them—an electrohammer wielder and a staff wielder. The boy made use of the movable grates, relocating them using the Force, and utilizing them to amplify his attacks.

When the staff-wielding Purge Trooper split his weapon in half, it didn’t make much of a difference as the young Eleventh Brother deflected his attack with his own split saber while deflecting the electrohammer with the other blade.

“Gotta admit that was impressive,” the guard bantered and his co-worker agreed with a weak “Yeah.”

The Eleventh Brother pulled away from both opponents, inflicted Slow on the brute and sent a flurry of attacks to the dual-wielder for the time being. The Purge Trooper’s jaw met Cal’s elbow, causing him to drop his weapons—which Cal stole one of them and used it on its owner, sending a wild shock into the body until the opponent fumbled and was at the mercy of the boy Inquisitor. When that was finished, Cal returned his attention to the electrohammer Purge Trooper, disarmed the larger fighter by slashing across his shin guards until his knees fell to the ground.

With that, Cal emerged the victor—after five waves of opponents—and the two Purge Troopers yielded for today. They quickly regained their composure, stretching their shoulders and collecting their weapons.

“Someday, I’ll take him down in spar practice,” the duel-wielding Purge Trooper mumbled.

“Hah, not unless he kills you in the process first!”

Today, the Stormtroopers had just witnessed a true demonstration of Cal’s raw power.

That scene had further cemented their fear of the boy Inquisitor.

Cal exited the dojo and made his way to his bedchambers. The officers that were in his general direction—regardless of rank, whether it’s an admiral or a cadet—avoided eye contact from him, but some looked at him with a curious or trivial look, as if admiring how could such a young man have that much influence without even speaking much. Some even likened him to Darth Vader, but it was a stretch.

Aside from the dojo, his bedchamber was his primary sanctuary.

“Home sweet home,” he muttered to himself as he removed his mask.

By rote, he retreated to the bathroom to wash off the grime that had gathered on his face and body, he wets his hair and stubble for good measure. Even after the course of seven months, he still hasn’t gotten used to his overall appearance, especially the redness faint dark tint on his hair even if he’s never altered anything on his body; a faint pink shade ran along the bottom rims of his eyes retells the training he’s endured, as well as the lonesomeness in the solace of his bedroom.

If he isn’t fighting in the dojo or attending those mandatory meetings, Cal spent his time researching on the holotable in his room. Reports from Stormtroopers and hired spies of your whereabouts are immediately transmitted to him, although the pickings were very slim, he was almost impressed by how elusive you and the crew were.

“Now, where have you run off to?” he mumbled, particularly to the still holographic image of you projected in his holotable.

Eventually, he came to a standstill with his own research, hoping to require more reports from the Stormtroopers and spies in every possible planet you may have gone to—Takodana, Kashyyyk, Zeffo, even Dathomir was an option no matter how much you disliked it as Cal recalled.

“Nothing… just nothing,” he sighed in defeated.

He combed back his hair with his fingers as he steered away from his holotable after slamming the off switch. He leaned against the wall of glass that gave him the view of the barren horizon that stretched beyond the lava rivers. His forehead thumped against the glass as he took deep breaths.

Cal didn’t want to admit it, even if hard training has been ingrained into his mind and body for seven months now, he still feels lost in all of this. The Eighth Sister shrugged it off as the same feeling as being the newcomer of the town—which is exactly just that. The excelled in all aspects of the training, further improving the training he’s received under Jaro Tapal, impressed—and intimidated—the ranking officers present in the main command center with his unconventional yet effective strategies, and silently climbing his way through the ranks.

In the midst of the silence—which he enjoyed—he hoped that there would be something to come up any moment… but there was none.

The viewscreen fixed upon his wall suddenly fizzled to life, he paid attention to the admiral seen on the other end of the call.

“Admiral,” Cal acknowledged.

“Eleventh Brother, the Grand Inquisitor will be transmitting a message. Shall I relay it to you?”

“Yes, Admiral.”

“Very good, my lord.”

The call rippled and then faded out. Cal donned his Inquisitor outfit with an urgency and pressed the button to bring his holotable back to life. Shortly after, the projection of the Grand Inquisitor’s bust hovered and occupied the center space of the holotable, it was large enough to prompt Cal to step back a few paces just so he wouldn’t hurt his neck.

“I hope you haven’t gotten dry on the girl’s trail, Eleventh Brother,” the Grand Inquisitor hummed.

“It won’t be long until we find the girl and her treasonous crew, Grand Inquisitor,”

“Remember your true objective here, Eleventh Brother, the precious cargo that they have with them is what you should set your sights on. The girl is merely collateral,” the Grand Inquisitor’s projection cracked static in between words but then continued. “If she does prove to be powerful like you say, then we will bring her to our ranks. Only then will she realize the magnitude that the Dark Side could factor in her powers.”

“Never have I doubted that insight, Grand Inquisitor,”

“Very good. I expect many a great things from you, my boy.”

Without the formal conclusion, the Grand Inquisitor switched off his transmission and his hologram crackled away into the air.

The pressure is on, but Cal didn’t dwell too much as it would have completely compromised his focus. The idea of taking you in, turning you into an Inquisitor, constantly ran in the back of his head—it was the outcome that he hopes for. He wanted to meditate—he longed for that dark tranquility—but can’t seem to find the peace that will help him latch on to connecting with the Force. The activity has become staler for him nowadays, if he did try, it went back to the exact same as he was before: he loses control while under the trance.

Cal decided it would be a good idea to take a walk. He ended up observing the assembly procedure of the facility from a reasonable distance on a platform. The whole factory worked in a harmony in piecing together the parts: heavy metal banged on the thick conveyor belts, sparks spewed out from the joints of the machines, until the machines have created the finished products—ship parts that will still undergo a second stage of assembly, power cores that glowed bright orange as it came fresh from the manufacturer.

Much later, he was joined by the Fourth Brother. A smug bastard, as Cal always thought.

“I see machines fascinate you,”

Cal rolled his eyes and had no choice but to wallow in this banter, “I grew up around them.”

“Ah yes, I recall the Second Sister calling you something of a sort,” the Fourth Brother, Ezir, pondered. He unnecessarily snapped his fingers as if trying to recall the word.

“A scrapper.” The boy grumbled.

“Ah! That’s the one,” he sniggered and continued to watch with the Eleventh Brother. “Look at that one, over there. Isn’t that worker pretty? Looking past that oil and grime on her face, I wager she would look divine.”

The Eleventh Brother didn’t comment on that, he kept silent and continued observing the manufacturing.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forget that you already have the love of your life! Though she’s in one side of the galaxy, and you absolutely have no idea where she is,” Ezir scoffed. “I saw her once that time in Magyon. I have to say, she is rather beautiful. How many men do you think have thrown themselves over to—”

While keeping cool, Ezir struggled on his next words. He tugged his collar a bit, coughed, gulped, and cleared his throat. The faint squeak of a glove prompted him to turn to Cal and noticed that his hand was positioned to a grapple, then he turned the Fourth Brother to look at him in the eye.

The boy Inquisitor’s face creased, mouth curled to a snarl, and a fiery rage burned behind his clear, blank, quiet eyes.

“String your words carefully, Fourth, they’re not always as smooth as you think they are.”

The Fourth Brother gurgled in his own spit, struggling to speak a single word back at the Eleventh Brother. He looked almost pitiful in Cal’s eyes, it doubled when he yielded, tapping his chest—crumpling his dress shirt in the process—until his tormentor released his grip.

“Bastard,” Cal scoffed as he walked out on Ezir and left the observation platform.

[capricornus-rex]

The Haunt of Redemption (5)

Sequel to: A Path I Can’t Follow

gif belongs to @endiness​

Chapter 5: The Past Has A New Face | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: It has been months since your last encounter with Cal, at that time he was a fledgling Inquisitor. In an ironic twist of fate, you cross paths and blades with him once again, and he’s keen on turning you into an Inquisitor as well—unless you bring him back to the light first.

Tags: Dark Side! Cal Kestis, Inquisitor! Cal Kestis, Redemption Arc! Cal Kestis

Also posted in AO3

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 | Previous: Chapter 4 | Next: Chapter 6 | Masterlist

5 of ?

A part of you wanted to calm down and subtly scan the area for enemies; the other wanted to just keep running until you find your way back to the ship.

The cacophony of animal sounds continued to sing through the woods. Your hearing hoped for rather than searching for any manmade sound—a twig snap, rustling of plants or leaves, anything. You moved on when there was nothing.

You attempted to reach Cere again, but there was nothing.

“Aw mother of fuc—!” you hissed, but were quickly cut off by the sound of the leaves crunching against the forest floor.

You sharply turned around, lightsaber ignited for nothing, but you continued to listen for it.

Come on, [y/n], forward. You coaxed yourself in your mind.

In the distance, the sound of an explosion echoed and reached the forest where you stand now. You haven’t exactly prepared your heart and mind for the worst yet. In truth, you never prepared yourself for something like this to happen so soon.

The first thought that came into your mind was the Yewa Docking Bay.

“Lora… Kaleen…” you gasped.

Eventually, you found the main path again and followed it.

Yes! You thought. You’re so close now.

The fragment of hope that you held came and went when one of the TIE Fighters fired a shot in the forest—its blast was coming to the general direction of your obstacle course, presumably trying to flush you out of the woods and into a clearing. The shot was somehow close to your current location, dust blanketed the path ahead as well as the path where you came from.

“We can’t be trapped here, BD, we gotta go!”

The ominous snarl of a lightsaber caught you frozen in your tracks. The source was unseen but you can feel it close to you. Taking cover from behind the rock, your thumb searched for your saber’s switch as you prepared for a surprise attack.

You stifled your coughs, careful to not give yourself away to any potential enemies, as you fanned out of the haze that enveloped you.

Stalking the forest floor with a great deal of caution, you held your lightsaber defensively in front of you—the way you held it made you look like a scared Padawan learner in a basic defense stance. Your heightened sense of space caused you to turn around and find a dark silhouette standing in the other side of the wall of dust. You stood your ground, gripping your lightsaber well and positioning yourself in a stance.

When the smoke finally cleared, the figure revealed itself but only for a short second—you didn’t even get to catch a glimpse of whoever it was. The figure disappeared with the haze. Confused, your eyes frantically searched for the figure among the trees.

You feel someone standing so close behind you, their lips could be felt within a mere inch from your ear.

“[y/n]…”

A twirled attack was easily deflected. As soon as your eyes registered the sight of the person in front of you, a whirlwind of emotions flooded you. Never have you ever felt so unsure what to feel that you wish it’s was just as easy as picking one emotion out as you please.

“Hello there, [y/n],”

You’re absolutely dumbfounded. Your breath shuddered as you attempted to suck in air, your eyes widened even with your sights narrowed at the person you thought you knew all this time. You were focused in examining his entire person—he was far beyond the Cal you last saw in Koboth, you barely recognize him with the dark gradient in his and his stubble.

Your heart skipped a beat.

On a tremendous level, you hate to admit that you find him appealing.

Well, fuck me sideways. The expression of your own voice in your head was a combination of frustrated, smitten, and growing hysteria.

Cal completely understood your predicament right now. He could sense your resolve fluctuate, the confusion and shock factored to it. He smirked at the discovery, there was a glint in his green eyes full of intent.

While in a convergence of blades, you afforded to take a good look at how much he’s changed before he pulls away for the next attack. You caught yourself before you fumbled to the floor, you cannot allow him to get the upper hand.

The last time you traded strikes was seven months ago, you wonder just how good he’s gotten all this time… and you were about to get a firsthand demonstration.

Based on his movements, he never strayed from the lightsaber form he’s been originally using ever since; there were hints of new attack patterns and techniques that you’ve never seen before. You wagered that they’re something that he picked up from his training.

“I see you’re still sharp. Impressive,” he purred.

You shifted your weight on your deflect and pushed him out so you could step away from him to regain your bearings. However, you’re not as sharp as he thought you were. The sudden reunion affected your emotions, then subsequently your movements in the duel; it was a struggle for you to conceal it from him, eluding him was a challenge in and of itself. If he managed to touch even a fiber of your clothes, his Psychometry will trigger and he’ll exploit whatever he’s harvested against you.

The shrubs, the trees, and the rocks became your allies all at once; aiding you in eluding this fearsome, youthful Inquisitor. There are some parts of the obstacle course that you may use to your advantage—such as the large, fallen logs whose bottom gaps are sizable enough for one to slide under, all the while concealing you as you make your escape or hideaway.

Cal followed suit, this was no different from the various environments he’s faced in his past campaigns. By the time he got to the other side of the log, you were nowhere to be found—little did he know that you were hiding among the tall grass, prowling closer as he stalked through the path.

“You didn’t really kill those people back in Magyon, you were manipulated!” your disembodied voice rang in the trees.

He looked around, searching for you while you continued to banter.

“Oh, is that what you tell yourself at night, when you go to sleep? Is it because you don’t want to face the reality now?”

Like a predator, you come springing out, lightsaber at the ready, but this is an Inquisitor you’re facing right now. You’ll have to up your game a bit more. A rush of energy flowed across every vein in your body, granting a burst of power and strength when trading strikes with Cal. You went with a flourishing attack until his deflection brought both of you leaning sideward to the ground; still improvising and maximizing the environment, you quickly pulled away and then skidded your boot hard against the earth—particles of the soil pricked Cal’s eyes and caused him to break from his form.

Just when you thought you had the chance to finally deal damage at him while he’s open, you stood corrected as he blocked you at the last minute while half-blind.

“Fighting dirty, aren’t we?” Cal hissed, you expected him to be vexed, but there was a mischievous purring in his voice.

“Just a style I peppered in!” you snapped back.

Cal patted off the dust that caught in his eyes. You afforded him the dignity of recomposing himself before you could attack again. You wonder if he felt that you couldn’t bring himself to strike him down—meaning, actually fatally wounding him with your saber.

He may not have vocally expressed that he was mad, but you saw it in the way his attack patterns shifted and evolved. The blows got heavier and the strikes were stronger; he even zoomed around the battlefield the same way Trilla and the Ninth Sister evaded your attacks back then! He refused to let the distance close between you. It was getting difficult to dodge him, but more so in getting close to him just to swing at him.

“Huh, I thought you’d see that coming,” he sniggered, expecting you to be able to catch up with him even though he’s zooming from point to point.

You were slowly getting nauseous as you spun in place, anticipating him and from where he’s going to attack you. Your defense was slowly breaking as he tires you out, but he saw that you’re refusing with all your willpower.

Stay still, goddamnit! You hissed in your mind, desperate but mostly annoyed with this new trick. Personally, you hated this when you faced either the Second or Ninth Sister.

“For how long will that endurance of yours last?” Cal jeered, his figure disappearing and then appearing here and there.

“As long as it takes until I knock you down!” you barked.

“You were always the achiever between the two of us,” he stopped his teleporting, he splits his saber and throws both of them to you.

That was a more extreme throw-attack compared to any of the Inquisitors you’ve faced. Luckily, one saber is enough to deflect both—credit is due to your dexterity. When one of the sabers returned to Cal’s hand, the second found its way to the connector and a quick twist sealed them together.

Your next move was your undoing. Coming at a running attack, he takes the chance while you’re still off guard—he extends his hand to you and suddenly you couldn’t move your entire body.

You are literally frozen—saber hand pulled back, seemingly ready for an overhead attack. You try to pull away but you just keep bouncing back into place.

WHAT?!

“How did you—?”

“You’re not the only one mastered the Force-Halt,” he snickered, quite proud of himself to break the news to you.

Short, panicked breaths escaped your lungs; you tried to move even just a finger but you could only do so much as twitch and that’s that. Cal approaches you while you remain as steady as a statue. A steely glower intently fixates on you. The closer he gets, the more out of control your heartbeat became.

Was it fear?

Were you actually stimulated by this?

Cal brings his hand to you. The first thing that came into your mind that he’s going to use one of his abilities on you. Your entire person shifted left and right, as if trying to scamper free from this hold, but to no avail. He ignored your helpless escape attempt.

He ran a gloved finger across your cheek. His touch was something you longed for, but this felt different—it was from someone you knew, but it still felt strange. He withdrew his finger, motioned his hand to turn and your entire body rotated in the same direction as his hand. You didn’t realize that you’ve already reached the first half of the course—where it’s close by the ship and in view of the town below.

“No…!” you sobbed when you saw towers of smoke waft from the settlement.

Standing behind you, Cal sweeps your hair to the back of your shoulder, exposing your neck, he brought his lips close to your ear; you could’ve sworn you felt the hairs of his stubble prickle on your cheek, the warmth of his breath blowing at the crook of your shoulder, hence the hairs on your nape stood.

“You know, I could make this all go away,”

He didn’t expect an answer and continued on.

“After they’re done with that quaint, little town, we’ll find the Mantis next and we’ll take the Holocron from Magyon.”

“You wouldn’t!”

In your mind, you still focused on breaking free, you pondered if his Force-Halt was exactly the same as yours that he simply copied or if he’s managed to improve it to overpower yours.

“You don’t believe me? They all follow under my directive. If you come with me, everyone—especially those in the Mantis—shall be spared for sure, and perhaps those who aren’t dead yet in the village,”

“And if I don’t?” you hissed and he smirked in reaction.

He slightly bends over so his face is level with yours, the gap between his lips and your face is just as thin as a thread when he turned his face to you as he spoke. His eyes trailed up and down, studying the contours of your face, the beads of sweat that riddled your temples, and the way your eyes struggle to avert from his gaze.

“You and I will watch the whole town burn and capture the crew, they’ll be charged with sedition by the time they’re caught. Either way, I’ll still get the Holocron one way or another,”

“Oh, so you’re making me choose who dies and who lives like how the Grand Inquisitor pitched it to you? How generous. Not exactly a win-win for either party, though,” you snapped.

He smirked at your rebuttal, he wasn’t—in the slightest bit—offended. In truth, he missed your sarcasm. Oftentimes, he imagined what life would be like if you were in the fortress at Koboth, either as an Inquisitor initiate or just a plain captive.

“I see your snark aged well,”

You scoffed a prideful chuckle, “You aged well.”

“So, [y/n], what is it going to be, darling?”

The sound of the greater waterfall crashing nearly muted the explosions of the cannons’ impact to the buildings in the settlement and the thousands of voices screaming in pain until they vanished into silence. You focused on the waterfall—it was a crazy idea, but it was your only choice. You could feel his influence ebbing, you’re surprised to find that it was shorter than you expected; you took the opportunity right away—once you’ve broken free, you jabbed him on the abdomen with your elbow, catching him off-guard and then bolting it towards the edge. You looked back over your shoulder one last time.

“GET READY FOR A DROP, BD!!!” you howled as you dropped to the water.

Cal recomposed himself, ran to the edge and peered over at the river. The thick spray of mist fogged his view of the water itself, practically cloaking you as the craziest, improvised escape plan ever hatched has been executed. There was no visible sign of you in the water from Cal’s point of view. Stormtroopers come running through the forest eager to report.

“Sir, they’re gone!”

“What do you mean gone?”

“The Jedi’s ship! We lost it when it took off!”

Frustrated, he resorted to having the town garrisoned first. After that, Cal made it absolutely clear that he’ll find you no matter how far in the galaxy you’ve gotten. The Stormtroopers led him out of the forest and escorted him to the town where he prepared his business.

The impact was sharp, you let the wild current of the river carry you downstream, your head popped into the surface every once in a while to get some air—before the rapids knock your head back under the water. It wasn’t long until you’ve reached calmer waters. You swam up to the surface and finally got a chance to catch your breath.

“Cere? Come in, Cere!”

“[y/n]?! Where are you? Imps sieged the town and—!”

Relief washed over you—aside from the cold water—when you heard Cere’s voice loud and clear. You swam to a shoreline downstream to continue your conversation.

“Listen to me, it’s Cal! It was all Cal,”

“You don’t mean…?”

“I’ll explain everything in the ship. I’m in the river after the bigger waterfall, are you near?”

“Kid, wear anything darker and we might mistake you for a boulder in the water!” Greez cut in just to get his joke at you across.

Greez’s jokes always boosted the beacon of hope that Cere’s voice personifies. The engine hum of the Mantis became louder and louder, you could feel its thrusters blowing at the water and trees around, but you couldn’t see it.

“Merrin, of course!” You exclaimed, recalling that she can cloak the ship.

Emerald glitters flickered as the Mantis gradually materialized on sight. Merrin and Cere appeared on the end of the entry ramp and kicked down a ladder at the edge.

“Hurry, [y/n]! I’m not supposed to reveal ourselves!”

You swam close to the suspended ladder and climbed as the ship slowly maneuvered to face forward and then disappeared into thin air again thanks to Merrin’s magic. The invisible Mantis darted through the skies, heading off-planet before the enemy discovers that they’ve been eluded. Your knees felt wobbly from the altitude and so dragged yourself to the seat in the cockpit to really catch your breath.

“You mind telling us now what just happened back there?”

“I’ll explain in a sec,” you raised a weak hand at them, gasping for breath as the adrenaline was too much for you to handle.

Despite being physically exhausted, your fingers worked their magic whenever they touch the buttons on the dashboard; you were optimizing the speed thrusters for your getaway—and you perfectly knew that Greez doesn’t like it when you get closer to the middle part of the dashboard.

He slapped your hand going for the button that will activate the top speed of the Mantis’s throttle.

“Whoa, whoa, hey! What the heck are you doing, kid!?”

“What, you don’t plan on getting away? An Inquisitor’s fleet just terrorized the town!”

Greez, Cere, and Merrin exchanged glances as you prepped the Mantis for the trip. You punched it and the captain had no choice but to accelerate and get the hell out of the planet before the Imperials find their missing ship.

[capricornus-rex]

The Haunt of Redemption (8)

Sequel to: A Path I Can’t Follow

Chapter 8: Same Link, Different Mettle | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: It has been months since your last encounter with Cal, at that time he was a fledgling Inquisitor. In an ironic twist of fate, you cross paths and blades with him once again, and he’s keen on turning you into an Inquisitor as well—unless you bring him back to the light first.

Tags: Dark Side! Cal Kestis, Inquisitor! Cal Kestis, Redemption Arc! Cal Kestis

Also posted in AO3

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 | Previous: Chapter 7 | Next: Chapter 9 | Masterlist

8 of ?

Alyon greeted you with black cliffs topped with green patches of grass that rose to the skies, seafoam that’s whiter than bone striped the deep blue seas, and golden patches of sand mingled with the lush green jungles resting at the foot of the mountains.

The Mantis found a nice spot to land on—by the mesa that overlooks the seaside town not bigger than the one in Hoga.

“This place is mesmerizing, [y/n],” Merrin commented.

“It’s not every day we get to beautiful places in the galaxy without the Empire chasing us,” Cere added.

“Yeah, well, hopefully this time—they won’t,” you abruptly stood up from the seat. “I’m gonna take a look around,”

You darted towards the room and got dressed, donning Cal’s Bracca scrapper poncho for the first time. With the Holocron gone, it felt like a load has been lifted from your shoulders—literally and figuratively—as you wore the straps of your bag. BD-1 hopped onto your shoulder as you leave the room.

“I don’t have to tell you again, [y/n],”

“Yes, Cere, I know. Don’t die. Or was it be careful?”

“Both, actually.”

“Gotcha,” she smiled.

It’s a perpetual question in Cere’s mind how you’re able to smile in the midst of all this predicament. Perhaps, it was an indication of your strength. After all that torment you’ve endured in Cal’s absence, you weren’t just back to normal—you’ve changed but for the better.

Compared to your pit stop earlier, trekking through the terrain was a breeze. The sight of the ocean lifted your spirits, the blades of grass tickled your calves, and the sun mildly shone above your head. Along the way, you frolicked in the wild plains—spinning and sprinting around with a child-like innocence—the flaps of your poncho felt like wings as the untamed winds blew to your direction.

There was no sign of the Empire in that seaside town, diverse peoples inhabit the settlement. Yet, the population seemed sparse for a sizable settlement. Your arrival was met with curious stares and vendors’ hollers. There’s no team of armed men marching to your general direction for the welcome wagon—nevertheless, you remained vigilant.

“Stay close, BD,” you muttered.

You approached a fruit stall and browsed; an animal penned inside a stable right next to the stall bleated to get your attention. Ever the curious friend, BD-1 perched onto the fence post and scanned the animal that was chewing on a stalk of hay.

“I knew you’d take a scan of it!” you teased.

BD-1 chirped, you translated it to him saying the animal’s name.

“That, my dear, is a Dimal,”

The fruit stall owner pointed at the tall, woolly animal, its jowls flopped and its rounded upright ears twitched with every chew of the hay stalk. You treated it to a Meiloorun fruit. You brought it close to the Dimal’s mouth, sniffing it first before gobbling it up in its mouth.

“You’re welcome,” you chuckled.

Even with its mouth full, it replied with a muffled grunt and continued gnawing on the large fruit in its seemingly narrow mouth.

“Haven’t seen you in these parts,” the same shop owner blurted, his native dialect was thick.

“I’m a traveler, I just got here,”

After shopping, you headed back to the ship, the old man was kind enough to slip in a few extra berries for the road. You expressed your thanks and went around the town some more—and there was a lively sound coming from up ahead.

Music.

“Do you hear that, BD?”

“Booo!”

“Come on, let’s go take a look,”

You followed the music, colorful notes emitted from the various instruments. A group of dancers performed in perfect synchronization in the middle of the square, their footwork followed the speed of the fifes, the bystanders that circled them clapped to the beat of the drum, and for the finale they cheered once the abrupt strum of all strings of the lute signals the climax of the song.

The dance concluded by a round of applause from the crowd, which you’ve included yourself, you try not to stand out so you immediately vanished from the scene—though it was such a nice sight. You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen a street performance or festival.

—–

Three days of refuge in Alyon.

For once, things are seeming fine. But you know perfectly well this wouldn’t last, you’re still gripped with the anticipation of the Inquisitor’s arrival now that you’ve engaged with them—Cal, in particular.

You decided to tell your encounter with Cal through the Force with Cere, and you made sure you speak to her about it in great confidence.

“Cere, something strange happened on the day we left Tatooine and headed to Alyon,”

“And what’s that?”

You don’t even know where to begin explaining it.

“Well, it’s… how do I put it? I sort of saw Cal, here in the ship,”

“You mean, in meditation?”

You shake your head, “I wasn’t even meditating! I was doing something on the workbench and then I heard a voice call me, there was like a feeling that I can’t explain. At first, when I turned around there was nothing, so I thought I was just hearing things; but the second time around, I��� I find Cal standing inside my bedroom!”

Cere’s head angled to the side, something about her expression alarmed you the same way you alarmed her with your story.

“Could it be…?” she muttered under your breath, though it was still within your earshot.

“Cere, what is it?”

Cere gradually stood up from the couch, “Hold on, I think I have something!”

She retreated to her own quarters where she rummaged through her rucksack. Shortly after, she reappears with a tome with a maroon leather cover, the metal accents along the corners and spines have tarnished, and the edges of the yellowed papers have chipped away due to age. She flipped through the pages looking for one specific section.

“Cordova learned about this phenomenon with the Force many years ago, while I was still his Padawan. Whatever he could find that pertains to it—he wrote it down, drew figures and diagrams, and added his own insights of his research!”

“What’s it called?”

“It’s a Force-Link. Look here,” she scooted closer beside you, pointing at the written paragraph on the page, her finger following the words as she read it out loud. “It’s said a phenomenon when the Force connects two Force-sensitive individuals, regardless of the distance in between, who have forged a dyad.”

In her excitement, Cere beat you to it—though, it felt like she sensed you’d ask about the last word in the paragraph—and flipped over the pages in search of the entry about Force dyads.

“Here,” she pointed at the first paragraph written underneath the header word, and read out loud word-for-word. “A connection that is forged with the Force between two Force-sensitive individuals.”

Cere skipped the longer metaphors and the personal diary entries that Cordova has written. More pages unraveled its mysteries and the woman impulsively read out loud—mostly for her own indulgence.

“Those who are out of the dyad could not see, feel, or hear the other side of the occurrence,”

This explains why the crew couldn’t hear Cal’s voice as you spoke to him during the first Force-Link encounter. Unfortunately, the explanation about manipulating it to either wielder’s whim—such as when will the connection start and when it’ll be severed—appear to be vague.

“Do Force dyads and Force-Links really seldom happen?”

“Yes, it’s quite rare. When I was a Padawan, I never met another Jedi who shared a dyad with another. But now, coming from you, I truly think Cordova was onto something back then. The bond you’ve shared with Cal factored the Force in allowing you to communicate.”

“I wonder if it’s another sign that he can be turned back to the light,” you thought out loud.

Apart from skimming Cordova’s manifests, strolling along the shoreline in barefoot, skimming rocks, seashells, and coral fragments that beached along the sand became a new pastime for you.

You enjoyed this new breed of solitude, but you’re still haunted by that mirage encounter of Cal back inside the Mantis. You find yourself secretly hoping that it would happen again.

On the other side of the galaxy, Cal has been poring page after page for any result about your Force-induced encounter. There were few resources found in his chambers in the command ship, there weren’t any valuable information found in the holotable’s databank either. The whole ordeal irritated him.

“How is it possible not a single manuscript was written about this!?” Cal roared, his mask did little in muffling out the sound, he punched the rim of the holotable in fury.

The last thing he thought of was retracing his steps, but the problem is: where does he even begin?

After all, it only happened abruptly and he had no control over it, because it felt like it came to him naturally. Cal theorized that it might be your own doing, but in reality, it wasn’t. He immediately dismissed that theory and went back to pinning down the Force as the primary culprit—frankly, it was the only logical culprit.

“Deep breaths,” he chanted to himself, doing exactly what he tells himself as he paced back and forth inside his room.

In the most uncanny of timings, that very same sensation returned to him—as if someone tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention—he abruptly turned around, he was surprised to see you standing inside the chambers with him.

“You’re quite elusive,” he initiated.

Your reaction to his appearance was understandable, your shoulders flinched while gaping at him. This is also the first time you saw him wearing a mask which muffled his voice, yet still coherent. Although the first time was docile, you can’t always count on him to be the same in the next.

You didn’t reply. You secretly fiddled the small seashell you’ve hid inside your fist while you conversed.

“I still don’t understand how and why this is happening to us. Can they see me?” he added.

“I don’t know…”

There was a stale air looming between you and the Eleventh Brother; the crashing waves of the sea and the machine hum spoke on each other’s behalf. You pursed your lips and your fist clenched tighter, the thin edge of the seashell dug into the flesh of your palm.

“You seem confident. Confident that I’ll never find you after you fled Cameegon like a coward.”

“I’m no coward! I’m not the one who gave in so easily!” you snarled.

“I take it that you’re not coming in quietly,” when he got the silent treatment from you, he continued. “Alright, then you’ll have to watch another innocent town be reduced into rubble like Cameegon. You wouldn’t want, would you? That’ll be a lot of blood in your hands.”

The Inquisitor noticed you flinch and he took pride in provoking you. He takes one step forward and you ignite your saber, having him at swordpoint.

“Ooh, feisty aren’t we?”

“You’ll never find me,” you hissed softly, although it was still within Cal’s earshot. “You’ll never turn me into what you’ve become!”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. We always find our way to each other, don’t we?”

He spoke the exact same words from his secret projection, a line that you knew too well and caught you off guard; a great thunderclap coming from the horizon startled you—the saber fumbled in your hand and the seashell fell from the other—and he disappeared from where he stood when you looked again.

The same went for the Eleventh Brother. The vibrant apricot seashell clattered on the polished black floor of his chambers. He took the delicate object into his hand and examined it. You unintentionally have given him a clue.

The boy Inquisitor rushed to the command ship’s bridge as fast as he can. His entrance alerted the attending officers; he approached the admiral and held up the shell to his face.

“I want this scanned. Trace its origin planet.”

The officer didn’t have the luxury to ask why and simply obeyed. The admiral took the shell from the young man’s hands and handed it over to one of the computer operators. In less than two minutes, the operator returned the shell along with a small datapad containing the findings.

“Sir, analysis traces it back to Alyon, a tropical planet in the Enca Sector, Ganiv System—it’s in the Outer Rim,” the admiral reported.

“Transmit the coordinates to my ship. Two TIE Fighters and an escort shuttle will come with me.”

“Right away, sir!”

The Eleventh Brother leaves the bridge on the way to the hangar.

“I have you now, [y/n].”

A storm was brewing that evening in Alyon. The thunderclouds have loomed closer to the shore in a dramatic speed. The winds have already picked up, the rain flew in like tiny knives pricking your skin, and the downpour caused the tide to rise earlier than usual. You hurried to getting on higher ground before the water has fully covered the shore.

You pushed through the raging winds, sheltering BD under the flap of your poncho. You blamed yourself for strolling farther from the ship, nightfall has reached you as a consequence, additionally, the town wasn’t any nearer either so it’s not an option.

“No…!” you gasped when the sky had gotten much darker, it doesn’t help with the storm joining in the problem.

The surroundings were all gray and visibility has dropped to zero. You barely see anything in this smokescreen of hail and fog. BD-1’s lights paled in the darkness. You stamped through the damp fields, the harsh winds swayed you farther with every step, but you fought it.

“Almost there, BD-1, hold on!”

Neither you nor BD-1 are safe, not until you’ve set foot into the Mantis. The growing sound of the TIE Fighters’ engine growls signaled their approach and a TIE Interceptor landed at a close distance from you. The hatch opened and out comes Cal, the Eleventh Brother. He stood upright in the midst of the storm, the bright red beam of his lightsaber lit up in the deep grayness.

You’re not going down without a fight.

Cal darted the air towards you, lightsaber at the ready, he found your block weak—it seems the storm has taken its toll on your body. However, he gave credit where it’s due—he admired your fighting spirit. You remained more on the defensive for the greater portion of the fight. The lightning afforded you short bursts of light to see your opponent better—rather, his next attack position.

“There! I see them!” Cere cried, peering through her binoculars and spotting two streaks of light dancing in the fog.

A TIE Fighter sends twin projectiles flying towards the Mantis, barely missing the dorsal fin of the ship but close enough to give it a rumble. Greez started the engine in a panic, Cere ordered him to stay low so they can still pick you up; although, that plan didn’t go so well.

The bitter cold of the wind disoriented you, the angry waves muted the hisses of lightsabers colliding with each other, your head was swirling, the veins on your temple throbbed, and your body had a battle of its own from within. Your lungs struggled as it sucked in cold air, fog wafted through your teeth as you dueled Cal.

The Eleventh Brother watched you charge towards him, ready for a dashed strike, and he prepared himself to time it just right.

Close enough!

You feel your entire body freezing up again, as if an icy gust blew throughout your entire being. The last thing you remember is a hearing a thunderclap mingle with the crash of the ocean, a flash of lightning glowed brightly in your puffy, heavy eyes and then suddenly darkness.

The Eleventh Brother caught you in his arms, carrying you bridal-style, and marched to the escort shuttle that he ordered to be included in his convoy.

“NO!!” Cere cried, a crack of lightning flashed as she witnessed him carry your unconscious body.

Your eyelids blinked the dancing lights away until your eyesight has adjusted to the brightness of the room. You gasped upon waking up, you weren’t sure how long you’ve been, but it felt like a long time. Your arms and legs had limited movement, later discovering that you’re strapped into an interrogation machine. Your heartbeat sped up tenfold, you surveyed across the room starting from the ceiling and then the middle part until you found a Stormtrooper standing beside silhouette across the room.

“Good, you’re awake,” the silhouette spoke, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Do you have any other orders, Eleventh Brother?”

“No, I’ll handle this myself. Leave us and wait for my orders,”

“Yes, Eleventh Brother.”

The Stormtrooper departs, leaving you and the Inquisitor in full privacy.

The red glowing accents of his mask lit up in the shadows, he blended perfect well in the darkness. You don’t know what to say back first, frankly, you don’t know what’s happening and how it came to this.

“Is that what they call you now: Eleventh Brother?”

Your snarky question got no reply from him. He removed his mask and placed it on the nearby podium. With that accessory gone, he massaged his jaw and craned his neck until you heard some bones popping.

“Yeah well, you can still call me Cal,” His roguish grin played along his face.

“Where are Cere and the others?”

“No idea,”

“You lie!”

“I never lie—especially to you,” he calmly said.

The young Inquisitor stepped into the light, revealing himself to you once more. There were a few inches dividing you from him. The white light shone over his hair, revealing the faint redness of his hair past the darker tints. You find that there was no terminal like the one in Nur; it was only him and you strapped into the contraption. Surely, this confused you, at the same time it relieved you that you’re spared of the electrifying torment—for now. No wonder the Stormtrooper was suggesting a better chamber.

“Where am I?”

“In an escort shuttle, en route to Koboth,”

“What is it that you really want, Cal?”

He clicked his tongue, rolled his eyes to the side, and then grinned as he spoke.

“Oh, I think you and I both know that already.”

For every word he said, he took one step closer, “I want the Holocron.”

You smirked, even chuckled, in retaliation. You teased him, inching your face closer just so he’ll hear better.

“I don’t have it.”

The small yet sadistic smile that painted his face melted away. Part of him doesn’t want to believe you, and the other does. With your natural talent for theatrics, it’s hard to decipher you—even for him.

Your smug face and arrogant sniggering was beginning to bother him. So much so that he was starting to think you’re not playing around.

“You’re wasting your time and energy, you know,”

“Maybe I’m not making myself clear,” he sighed. He starts to remove his glove.

Preemptively, you know what he’s about to do to you. Your heart pounded in the wildest pace; suddenly, his Force-ability that once fascinated you, now terrifies you. Cal ignored your desperate scrambling in the contraption, but it somewhat satisfied him.

“That’s my poncho,” he cooed and an evil smirked curled at the corner of his lip.

He reached for you, avoiding his touch is futile. His bare hand is now at a fingertip’s reach from the fabric, sinking away into the contraption wasn’t much help for you either. His grip clutched a portion in the middle—your shirt underneath it was caught in his hold as well—and sharp pangs of light jabbed his vision, a hollow rippling warm drummed in his ears.

“Good night, Cal…”

Your memories have ingrained into every thread, a vision plays out in his mind: he sees you snuggling up to the poncho in bed, keeping it close to your face as you slept, the nightly sobbing rung in his ears, and the warmth that the poncho gave you during cold, sleepless nights wrapped over his shoulders.

“This isn’t who you are!”

“All this time… and we never even got a look.”

That sudden shift of emotions startled him, but he kept his grip—physically and mentally. The Inquisitor wanted to extract as much as he can to exploit you. To him, it was a game; for you, it was a mental war. He witnessed your recent memories—he now knows that you opened the Holocron and took a glance of the contents, he heard the festival music from the town in Alyon, and then he saw the waves tugging away from the shoreline.

“You saw what’s inside the Holocron!” he exclaimed. He pushed further into you using his Psychometry. “What did you do with it?”

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!”

The boy Inquisitor was surprised to find that you’re able to fight him off—at least, his grip on your mind. When his influence is now absent in your body, your head hung low as you gasp for breath and fight off the throbbing pain in your head. His mischievous grin stretched from ear-to-ear.

“Interesting…”

He nestled your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting you upwards so you face him, your head bobbed slightly as you’re weakened by the infliction of his Psychometry. He inched closer to your face, the tips of your noses touched.

“My darling, you never cease to amaze me.” He teased you, the bottom of his lip softly brushed across yours while keeping an open grin, his stubble scratched your chin. Your indifferent expression met his roguish smirk as he pulled back inches away from you. A sadistic snicker hummed from his throat and he gently releases his hold on your face before leaving you in your cell.

[capricornus-rex]

Two Sides of the Coin (19)

Chapter 19: Out of Here | Jidné Sheedra x Cal Kestis

Summary: Hell-bent on exacting revenge and retrieving the Holocron, the dreaded Darth Vader is now on the hunt for the young Jedi Knight, Cal Kestis. Under the assumption that he still possessed the artifact, while fueled by the intrigue of the boy’s strength and skill with the Force, the dark lord hires the bounty hunter, Jidné Sheedra, to track him down and have him delivered alive. However, the task becomes a trial for young Jidné, as she faces a conflict that tests her beliefs of a scarred past she had hidden for so long.

A/N: I feel like I’ve delayed on this chapter even though it’s not? Feels kinda weird, I’ve probably lost my sense of time but I’m glad I’ve finally finished it either way 😁

Also tagging @berenilion​ @silver-is-in-too-many-fandoms​ @stellar-trinity​ @justtinfoley​ @peterwandaparker​ @calgasm​ @queen-destenie​ @calsponchoemporium​ @sweeetteaa​ @cal-jestis​ @ayamenimthiriel​ @fallenjedii​

Also in AO3

Tags: Fem OC, Jidné Sheedra, Force-Sensitive! Fem OC, Bounty Hunter! Fem OC, Jedi! Fem OC

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 – 10 – 11 – 12 – 13 – 14 – 15 – 16 – 17 | Previous: Part 18 | Next: Part 20 | Masterlist

19 of ?

Jidné had never felt more alone in five years.

The hallway in which she marched through made her feel small. The canister in her hand hung heavy—literally and figuratively—she thinks she couldn’t hold onto it much longer. The droid clinging on her body harness peeked over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of her expression, ID has noticed that Jidné has been awfully quiet, save the stifled, repressed sobs that squeak out of her throat.

“I’m… It’s nothing, ID,” she mumbled and then bit her lip.

Warm wind suddenly gusted through Jidné’s spine, it wasn’t from the circulating air in the fortress—it was something else. She looked around only to find nothing but herself and ID in the desolate corridor.

“Is that truly your final resolve?” the disembodied voice of Master Anesh called out from the nothingness.

Hearing Nomara’s voice again when she least expected it took her by surprise. Jidné searched left and right for the Force ghost of her late master until she found blue smoke materializing in front of her; it started out hazy and shapeless, from the Jedi girl’s eyes it appeared to be wafting towards her—the closer it got, the more defined the silhouette became, from the montral tip down to the sweeping hem of Nomara’s robes.

Unlike her previous encounters with a vision of her master, this one felt significantly different: it was warm and sage, like how Jidné exactly remembers Master Anesh until her death.

“Master…” Jidné gasped. “I… I feel like I’ve failed. I have failed, haven’t I?”

Nomara, stood close in front of her apprentice, her arms crossed together underneath the overly-loose sleeves of her robe. Even in her Force ghost form, a rather melancholic expression painted upon her face; empathizing with her disdained apprentice, the Togruta took notice of the cylindrical case in the girl’s hand, the tightness of the grip was fluctuating.

“Your actions contradicted your true feelings, Jidné, and here you are fighting it all by yourself and within yourself,”

“I know what I should’ve done—then if I did, none of this wouldn’t have happened! If only I’d told him the truth sooner, but that doesn’t matter now…”

Jidné proceeded to walk forward on the way to her ship. The Togruta’s shoulders rose and then relaxed, her calm expression contrasted against the troubled child who was on the verge of tears.

“Do not succumb to your regrets, my little one,” Nomara’s hand rested on Jidné’s shoulder, subsequently hindering her from walking and convincing her well enough to heed and listen.

The girl was taken aback, it’s been a while since she felt Master Anesh’s touch. Her hand searched for the phantom and only felt warm air hovering over her shoulder—but it was comforting.

“You have foreseen this, but you still have the power to change it—so that the boy will not fall into such vain of a fate.”

Their exchange prompted Jidné to subconsciously recall the visions that manifested in one particular meditation. Recalling to the final seconds before she had actually left the foyer, she overheard Vader ordering the Inquisitor and Stormtrooper to make arrangements for a torture chamber. She closed her eyes for a moment to revisit the premonition she found in her trance.

It all made sense now: the thud of a body falling to the floor, the pleading that fell to deaf ears—whose voice turned out to be Jidné’s own voice in her own premonition—and the harsh crackling of the electric current coursing around its host.

Vader has ordered Cal’s slow execution… not until he reveals the locations of the children he has memorized.

Her eyes shot up and abruptly turned around to face Nomara again.

“They’re going to kill him!” she exclaimed, and then she gradually reduced to tears as she realizes. “And it’s all my fault!”

“Perhaps not all is lost, child. Trust your instincts and the let the Force guide you through,” little by little, Nomara’s Force ghost starts to dissolve, she hoists one translucent hand to Jidné’s jaw, running her thumb across the girl’s cheek to wipe away a tear stain. “Only then will the clarity of your mind erase the conflict that hazes your judgment.”

Jidné instinctively jerks her hand up to hold Nomara’s now-fading hand on her face. She closes her eyes to savor the warmth—albeit being only an illusion—when she finally opens them again, she finds herself and her droid alone in the eerie hallway of the dark lord’s fortress. The droid peeked over her shoulder again, ID-3 finds a face seething with resolve from his owner.

“There’s still time,” Jidné muttered, and then turned to ID. “I’m going to save him.”

“BEEEEE!!!” the droid bursts with an overjoyed, celebratory trill to the point that he hovered a couple of inches off of Jidné’s back, the girl received his affirming response.

She dropped the canister and ran to the other direction. As her legs carried her through the inorganic hallways, she recalled again the details of Vader’s request in the foyer—the preparations are due in an hour.

“Trill, chirp?” ID-3 beeped, in translation, he asked what Jidné’s plan is.

“I’m thinking, I’m thinking,”

The duo came across a control center along the way to the prison block. Jidné stormed in and made quick work in emptying the room from Stormtroopers and a KX security droid. ID-3 hovered towards the main terminal and spliced the internals, absorbing data regarding Cal’s torture down to the last bit of information.

Jidné joined her droid and watched the monitors flash number codes, area coordinates, and maps of the locations involved—in this case, the prison block where Cal is held captive. Jidné tapped the projection of the map, zooming in and enhancing the area, and then finding a red blip blinking on a specific section.

“That’s it, the prison block,” she muttered and then read out loud the area code. “Cell Block E-6.”

“Trill, beep!”

“Come on!”

—–

Cal sat at the very end of his holding cell, still couldn’t fully wrap his head around what Jidné had done. He recollects the look on her face when she was being Force-choked by Vader until she was being prompted to take the money, he sensed the hesitation in the slowness of her reach, and he could’ve sworn he spotted tears welling up at the rims of her eyes—that is why she was so eager to turn away and walk.

Two Stormtroopers paced back and forth in the narrow corridor where Cal’s holding cell is, casually bantering off on random things until it came to the subject of bounty hunting.

“So how does one get a price on their head? I mean, who calls it?”

“I guess it’s the actual person who’s got beef with them, I don’t know, but I’ve noticed that’s how they do it,”

“You ever been to a bounty hunter’s hive before?”

“Well, no, but I’ve patrolled a cantina they went to once before,”

This conversation continued on until the main door retracted open and revealed Jidné entering the prison block. She carried herself in an indifferent aura to continually fool the Stormtroopers. The girl approached the exact cell where they kept Cal.

“Lord Vader ordered me to escort the Jedi to the torture chamber,”

“It’s not yet due in a few minutes,”

Cal gradually stood up, listening to the exchange between Jidné and the Stormtroopers. He tries to read her through her expression as she spoke with the guards. There was her trademark calm and coolness in her demeanor, a small part of him manages to convince him that this was a ploy, but he continued to listen in.

“There was a change of plans,” Jidné rebuked with the casual calmness in her tone.

The pair of Stormtroopers looked at one another, hoping to find something that tells them to believe the girl; meanwhile, Jidné kept her straight face intact while preparing to cast a Jedi mind trick against them, should they see through her bluff. Fortunately, she needn’t to do the latter. The Stormtrooper pressed a button on the control panel, the red ray shield vanishes and Cal was gestured to step out of his cell.

The redhead stood in the very front, the Stormtroopers behind him, and Jidné behind the guards. The second Stormtrooper thought their formation was unusual, but decided to brush it off and nudged the Jedi boy forward.

While they strode through the hallways, Cal senses a motive from Jidné—little did he knew that she’s already putting her plan into play, starting from the moment she walked into the prison block. Jidné patiently waited until they were left in one section of the corridor where it’s empty and devoid of witnesses—especially the patrolling Stormtroopers—when that moment came, the girl found themselves alone in the path and a pair of hard thumping sounds, following two quick grunts, came from the Stormtroopers, who are now lying limp and unconscious on the floor.

Cal turned around to find Jidné shaking off the sting in her hand. His lips parted so as to say something, but he was too taken aback by this other change of plans. Jidné approached him to his back and used the Force to unbind the handcuffs around his wrists.

“Escape now, hate me later,” said Jidné quite abruptly, avoiding small talk with the boy as the tension between them is still heavy and conversing as such would be simply awkward.

“Thank you…”

“Where are they keeping your saber?” Jidné examined Cal’s person and noticed someone missing. “Where’s BD-1?”

“They confiscated it—along with BD-1—but I know where it is,”

ID-3 reacted to BD-1’s captivity, the fast-paced, tone-deaf trilling and chirping from the droid evidently conveyed his eagerness to save his new fellow droid.

“I couldn’t agree more, ID,”

Jidné took her own blaster out of her second holster, “You a good shot?”

“I’d like to think so,” Cal shrugged. A coy, little smirk couldn’t help but emerge on his mouth.

Jidné’s lips returned the gesture and she tossed the ballistic weapon toward him which he skillfully caught.

Cal led the way, Jidné followed and kept cover for him. All throughout, the both of them relied on stealth, not seeing the need to brandish weapons unless necessary. With little to no action, it feels as though time moves differently and rather slowly in this dark palace, where the winding hallways lead to one after the other with hours on end.

Finally, their little adventure in the labyrinthine came to an end when Cal recognized a door and caught a glimpse of the inside.

“That’s it—that’s the door,”

“Who’s in the other side of it?” asked Jidné who was hugging the wall behind him as he peeked over.

“Two guards—one standing in the middle, the other behind a terminal.”

“How do you wanna go about this?”

“Well,” Cal’s eyes trailed from Jidné’s head to toe. “We could use your Shroud. Take them by surprise once we’re through.”

She rolled her eyes pensively, and then shrugged, “Fair enough.”

Cal was the first to leave cover, Jidné stayed closed by the tail. They stood side by side with one another, in front of the sealed door. Cal discovers Jidné’s fists clenching and then relaxing—and the cycle repeats-his eyes trailed upwards, studying her hesitant, nervous expression. Both of them are still fully aware of the tension and awkwardness borne from the scene that transpired back in Vader’s receiving hall.

Cal had already forgiven Jidné the moment she knocked those Stormtroopers out cold and untied him; on the other hand, she’s still under the impression that he hates her for actively and passively betraying him all this time—she wasn’t exactly used to this brand of kindness, being a bounty hunter has somewhat deprived her of such.

Nevertheless, Cal slowly reached. Little by little, he broke through the closed fist, she flinched upon the gentlest tap of his fingernails against her skin; his fingers tangled with her slender yet trembling digits, and his warm hand felt the clamminess of her palm, though he didn’t care. He curled his fingers, further securing his hold on her until she herself gave. Jidné shot him a quick glance with a flinch from the corner of her lip as an excuse for a weak smile.

“Relax,” Cal coaxed.

Jidné tightly clutched on Cal’s hand, almost equal to his own grip, and focused as she taps into her Shroud. She remained still as a stone—her features steady, her grip unwavering—slowly, she lifted her eyelids and saw that it was successful. One look prompted Cal to wave his hand at the control panel at his left side. The bulb under the button blinked green and the door responded by retracting right into its frame.

This startled the guards; the door had opened with nobody on the other side—in their point of view, at least.

“What’s happened?” asked the terminal guard, quite spooked himself as well.

“Don’t know, the door just suddenly opened,” replied the standing guard.

“Must be a wire malfunction. Go check,”

While they debated on what caused the door to open “by itself,” Jidné and Cal had already snuck through the lobby. The two Jedi exchanged glances and conversed with a nod at each other, signaling Jidné to let go and thus end the effect of her Shroud. The moment her hand slipped away from Cal’s, they slowly materialized and took on each guard. In a split second, the guards were denied a single second of reaction time. Jidné charged towards the terminal guard while Cal gunned down the one who approached the door, he also shot down the security cameras fixed on the corners of the ceiling.

“Cal, here!”

She retrieved the Jedi’s weapon. They returned each other’s weapons by tossing them to one another. Meanwhile, ID-3 did BD-1 a kindness by unscrewing the restraining bolt off of the little droid—the tiny white droid spun and danced in front of the probe droid as a gesture of thanks. Cal walked up to his droid and caught BD in his arms, coddling him as they rejoiced in being together again.

“Glad you’re okay, BD!” Cal laughed, mingling with BD-1’s happy beeps.

In a moment’s peace, both Jedi were met with the sight from where they stand. Beyond this lobby was another, but there was an impossible gap between them that can only be connected by a retractable, hydraulic bridge operated by the terminal. Jidné got curious and stood at a safe distance from the edge, peering to the orange, infernal abyss below—the magmatic underbelly of the planet on which the castle’s foundation stands.

“It’s almost the same as the one in Nur,”

“In what?”

“The planet where I last fought him,”

“You… fought Vader? Okay, that just kinda adds up to his list of reasons why he’s after you,”

“I can see your snark hasn’t been choked to death,”

“Takes more than that to kill me, ginger,”

The two exchanged glances with each other. Neither of them can deny the tension looming over their heads, not even the affection they had for one another that bloomed during their stay in Ombari. Obviously, Jidné was still guilty and this was her best effort of an apology—Cal saw her intentions and had secretly forgiven her the moment she knocked out those two Stomrtroopers from the prison block.

A small smile curled along Cal’s lips when he noticed Jidné’s face was flushing in color, when she spotted that boyishly charming smirk, she looked away, though it was futile to hide her blush even over her tough-girl demeanor.

“Come on,” she mumbled, bobbing her head once and briskly walked out of the confiscation lobby.

Meanwhile, in Vader’s chamber, a royal guard opens his commlink disc to answer the incoming transmission of a Stormtrooper. After the report, the royal guard approaches Vader sitting in his open meditation chamber, he relayed the news to the emotionless, blank face of the Sith lord’s mask—a slight turn of the head was his only response.

“Send out the Sixth Sister,”

“Yes, my lord.” The royal guard bowed, he kept it that way whilst he steps back to his original spot. He did what he was told.

From the Sixth Sister’s temporary room, she had felt the disturbance in the Force making its way to her trance. Dark, transient eyes popped and stood out of the crimson skin around it. The small hologram of Vader’s royal guard materialized on the projector connected to the short podium in front of her meditation spot.

A second projection appeared—the map of the castle, zoomed in on Cal and Jidné’s location where they’re both symbolized as a pair of moving, red blips. The Inquisitor made a bemused smirk as she raises her eyebrow at the same time.

“Looks like the kiddies decided to make some trouble,” the Sixth Sister purred.

She concluded the transmission with the royal guard and immediately scrambled to her feet. The Inquisitor uploaded the map data to her own holodisk and left her room to go after the Jedi and the bounty hunter.

—–

Jidné and Cal sprint through the corridors, but they were still cautious enough to elude the enemy’s line of sight. Even if they had their weapons, they preferred leaving Mustafar as peacefully as they can; little did they know that the Sixth Sister is already after them.

“We need to get to the hangar!” pressed the girl as they ran.

The castle was a complete labyrinth—one would never think that the inside looks this intricate and complicated after looking at the exterior. Perhaps this was one of the subtle, intentional features of the structure: intended to exhaust a runaway prisoner until they got nowhere to go or is simply cornered by guards lest Vader himself.

Both Jedi were trusting their own instincts as they navigated their way through the maze-like halls. They eventually found themselves in the leftmost side of the castle--where they both thought it is the side where they came from upon their arrival here. The corridor’s wall was split by a window that streaked the entire length of the annex; they peered through the glass for a landmark.

“I don’t see the Scarab anywhere, do you think they could’ve taken it?”

“Impossible,” Jidné held her arm up, showing her remote control armguard. “If they did, this would’ve went off hours ago.”

“We must’ve taken a wrong turn after evading those troopers,” Cal theorized.

Jidné confirmed it when she joined Cal’s side and saw the same thing as he does—a hangar filled with ships except her beloved Crescent Scarab. She withdrew from the window and looked around the annex they’re standing in, she finds the combination of a letter and a number painted white on the wall—she doesn’t recognize the label when they arrived.

“We did take a wrong turn,”

“Then let’s circle back,”

Both were startled by the echoing thud of a turbolift arriving at its designated floor.

Cal snatches Jidné’s wrist and drags her along with him. “Come on, we gotta move!”

“I can run fine by myself, thank you very much!”

He heard Jidné but he chose to ignore her, he secured his grip around her arm as they dashed their way through. Eventually, they found the Sixth Sister being the only thing standing between them and the correct hangar. The two young Jedi have caught sight of the ship, but they have to get through her first.

“Going somewhere?” purred the Twi’lek.

“Yeah,” Jidné snarled. “Out of here!”

A suggestive chuckle rumbled in the crimson-skinned Inquisitor’s throat, her white-as-porcelain fangs baring through her amused grin.

Playing along, the Sixth Sister squints her eyes as her grin closes into a smirk, “Oh, I don’t think so.”

She brandishes her haloed saber, one blood-red blade spewed out after the other—against Jidné’s purple and Cal’s cyan sabers.

The hangar became their battlefield, trapped inside a circle of Stormtroopers and Purge Troopers who made a human arena out of themselves around the pair of Jedi versus the Inquisitor.

“I’ve been into better fights than the two of you combined!” the Twi’lek boasted.

The corner of Jidné’s lip curled upward into a condescending smirk, following by a casual shrug.

“Pretty sure that’s a bluff,” scoffed the Jedi girl.

Provoked, the Inquisitor was the first to take on the offensive; and so the two Jedi buckled themselves for the worst.

[capricornus-rex]

The Haunt of Redemption (4)

Sequel to: A Path I Can’t Follow

Chapter 4: Incoming! | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: It has been months since your last encounter with Cal, at that time he was a fledgling Inquisitor. In an ironic twist of fate, you cross paths and blades with him once again, and he’s keen on turning you into an Inquisitor as well—unless you bring him back to the light first.

Tags: Dark Side! Cal Kestis, Inquisitor! Cal Kestis, Redemption Arc! Cal Kestis

Also posted in AO3

Chapters: 1 - 2 | Previous: Chapter 3 | Next: Chapter 5 | Masterlist

4 of ?

His holotable beeped, signaling an incoming message.

“Admiral?” he greeted when he answered the call.

“Sir, the transport containing the suspect has arrived. Shall I call an escort for you?”

“No need. I’ll be on my way.”

“Very good, sir. Transmission out.”

He strode through the hallways, Stormtroopers stiffened their backs until they’re erect at the presence of the Eleventh Brother, commanding officers curtly saluted when he passed them by, and he blatantly ignored the Fifth Brother and Eighth Sister in his periphery.

He arrived at the interrogation block and entered the cell where they’re keeping the captive.

It was Boss Lora.

Cal stood by the Stormtrooper and demanded the details.

“Lora Argul, proprietor of the Yewa Docking Bay & Inn,”

“And where is this docking bay located?”

The Stormtrooper glanced at his datapad, “In Hoga, sir. That’s in Cameegon,”

Cal repeated the planet’s name in a questioning tone.

“A temperate planet in the Daoro System, Jama Sector,”

“Daoro? Then it’s an Outer Rim planet,” the young Inquisitor pointed out, he stepped closer to the adult woman strapped to the interrogation machine. “Don’t bother struggling, it’s not like we’re going to set you free anytime soon.”

“Please, I don’t have anything to do with you! I’m just a business owner!”

“Oh, I know,” Cal cooed emotionlessly. “But I think you know something that I need. You might know somebody I’m looking for.”

“I don’t know anybody! My customers come and go, I only have my family!”

Lora tirelessly pleaded to Cal—it’s the same words in different order, but the same idea all in all. The young Inquisitor watched the prisoner wriggle in the torture machine, begging without a pause, until she succumbed to her tears.

Cal walked closer to Lora, a colorful woven bracelet stood out from the drab of her dark brown work clothes. He reaches for the bracelet and now his Force ability comes in play.

“Look what I made you, Mama!”

“Oh, how beautiful! Thank you, sweetheart!”

“Here, I’ll help you wear it. Do you like it?”

“I love it! I’ll always wear it so everyone can see.”

He saw the bright-eyed girl that is her daughter. The warmth of the child’s love radiated all over this woman’s being. His Psychometry allowed him to “borrow” such emotions, thoughts, and images for a period of time; he has done so to his multiple captives on their various campaigns ever since he was induced into the Inquisitorius.

Yes, he thought as he found her weakness.

“You have a very kind daughter. Kaleen, isn’t it?”

“How did you know her name?!” Lora roared.

She knew she never said anything, she only thought of her child when Cal started to enter her mind using his powers. It was something she has never seen or experienced before—and it terrified her. The wild, out-of-pace beating of her heart throbbed through her chest, any moment now she might feel it burst through.

“Oh, I should remember to apologize to your daughter personally. The little brawl in your cantina must have given her a big scare—with what her papa unconscious and her mother taken away right in front of her very eyes. Who knows what that little girl is thinking right now.”

Lora tugged herself from her restraints as far as she could until she’s eye-to-eye with Cal.

“You do so much as touch the tip of a hair strand from my daughter, I swear I will kill you!”

Cal smirked albeit concealed by his mask, satisfied that he had provoked the woman, he kept the bait hanging right in front of her until she tells him what they want to hear.

He consciously avoided the question, “You are going to tell me where you’ve seen the fugitives.”

“What fugitives?”

“You will tell me,” the smirk seemingly lost its amusement, Cal stepped closer and clutched the woman by the wrist as he demanded. “Where she is.”

At that exact moment, Lora suddenly felt like someone or something was tearing her brain open while fully conscious—the pain was excruciating, albeit the absence of the high-voltage shocks of the actual machine; Cal’s grip grew tighter, nearly barring the circulation to her hand, the next thing in Lora’s mind was you. She never intended to think or speak of you in front of this fearsome, young man—to her, it just happened.

There…! Cal celebrated sooner than he could wait.

The memory that played was your first time in the docking bay, her very first interaction with you, Lora still had that stingy tone when speaking to you. The image of you examining the ship she asked you to fix as an entrance trial and smiling back at her with a smug confidence played behind Cal’s eyes.

“Well now, I gotta say your work is impressive, kid!”

“When do I start, boss?”

There.

Your smile. Your laugh.

Even the faintest melody of your laugh came through for him.

For one, his heart skipped a beat—he saw the length of your hair has changed but your smile remained the same.

“Please…! Enough!” Lora sputtered out crying.

Cal jerked his hand away and turned around abruptly.

“Prepare my ship!” the boy Inquisitor commanded.

“Right away, sir!” a lower-ranking officer promptly replied and went ahead for the task.

“Bu-But, sir,” the admiral stuttered, hoping that it doesn’t offend the Eleventh Brother to stop him in his tracks. “What about the prisoner?”

“I leave it to you then, Admiral.”

The Eleventh Brother marched to the hangar, flanking him were two TIE pilots. Upon his arrival, the technicians have just finished recalibrating the TIE Fighters as well as his ship: a TIE Interceptor that he personally modified to his liking. The technician unclamped the docking boot of the Interceptor while his co-workers did the same for the two other Fighters.

“I want transports each carrying assault units and a squad of fighters deployed en route to Cameegon with me.”

“Yes sir, understood!” the attending officer’s heels clicked and marched to the hangar’s command center with an urgency.

The young Inquisitor climbed into the cockpit, the glass dome slid shut with the touch of a button. His fingers follow an invisible yet learned pattern of switches and buttons. There was an indescribable feeling that he cannot pinpoint with a single word, perhaps the closest being “elated.”

The TIEs’ engines hummed in a collective baritone, lights on the screen flickered to life, the ships hovered and then zoomed past the ray shield of the hangar.

—–

Meanwhile, back in Cameegon, you’ve been training in the forest for the rest of your day-off. You were out of breath, but the clean air from the trees refreshed your lungs as you inhaled and then exhaled. This expansive stretch of land has become your own haven—it’s where you mostly do your Jedi training and meditation, it took a long while for you to get used to doing them alone.

BD-1 may have kept you company while you spend your time in the woods, but it was different having someone actually with you, though you didn’t want to offend the little one so you always kept him close to you.

“Alright, BD, toss me another!”

The little white droid—perched upon a tree branch a few paces in front of you—trilled and threw the whole, rotten fruit in its claw—that you’ve installed yourself some time ago—and you went charging towards it; when the distance was enough, your heels sprang from the carpet of leaves and you somersaulted in the air, severing the target in half in the process and then landing back on the balls of your feet.

BD cheered for you in high-pitched whistles and song-like trills, followed by another string of conversational tones.

“Really? Should I have jumped a bit earlier?”

“Trill, chirp!”

“Hah, well, I really can’t tell if it’s by the second, little guy! Maybe I could borrow your scanners next time,” you joked.

The droid replied with a nervous trill, but you knew that he was only playing along.

“How’s the claw? You getting used to it or should I modify it some more?”

“Boo…” BD’s singular scope-like scanner examined the external appendage. “Woop!”

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do later,”

You beckoned the little droid to come to you, it activated its little turbojets on its feet and then willingly clambered on your shoulder. You continued on with your training, cutting down the training dummies that you made out of logs and leaves—your own regimen consisted of combining new moves with learned ones, last-minute improvisations if the need arises, and inventing more styles which is a hybrid of both old and new. You liked the adrenaline pumping in you when using the environment against your “enemies.”

Afterwards, you’re traversing the terrain, knowing the twists and turns of the forest like the back of your hand—a result worth of seven months’ progress. The path that you followed was one of your personal favorites—it was still an obstacle course, but you cut through and traversed it effortlessly. You decided to banter with your little droid friend while you trekked uphill.

“Hanging in there, BD?”

“Woop! Bee-woop.”

“Oh, you think so? I sounded like him for a moment there?”

You gave a weak chuckle in response to your exploration droid’s comment. Next, it gave out a somewhat apologetic tone, to your surprise you asked him why he was sounding like that.

“No need to apologize, buddy. It’s okay, don’t worry.”

“Woo!”

“Heh, you sure perk up quick!”

You’re almost to the top. The end of the hill’s path wasn’t the real summit—at least for you. You scaled the rock face of the waterfall nearby, there were enough rocks sticking on the wall to serve as handholds and footholds. It was a quick climb to get to the top of the waterfalls, only then, you’ve really seen the true expanse of Cameegon. The sight of the lower jungle and the river delta connecting to the sea was breathtaking.

How I wish you’re here to see it. You muttered under your breath, dedicating it to Cal.

The entire view took off a heavy load from your chest. Simply look at it warranted a smile from you and a look of wonderment as if seeing it for the very first time.

“So pretty, isn’t it, BD?”

“Woo-boop!”

You patted the little droid’s head as the two of you gazed upon the majesty of the unspoiled part of the planet.

Over time, you’ve grown to love this planet because of the solitude that the trees have given you, it was your secondary comfort next to the company of your family, the Mantis crew.

Your sightseeing was disturbed when you heard machinery humming—the noise got louder by the second—and then three black ships come speeding past your view. Your eyebrows furrowed, something about them tells you that this is not your regular merchant convoy.

Their flight direction came from the east and they’re heading westward. Your eyes squinted in suspicion—you peered through your binoculars, zooming in by turning the knob resting by your thumb, until you got a better look of the silhouettes. Your lips parted open.

“Oh no…” you shuddered.

Without a second’s notice, you kicked the coil of rope sitting by the edge of the waterfall and rappelled down. You started bolting through the path in the forest, while running you try to reach Cere’s signal from the Mantis—but the wildlife was so dense that it interfered with the clarity of the signal.

“Cere! Can you hear me?! Cere, come in!”

A garbled radio frequency was your only response, but your feet kept running—it’s as if it was moving on its own—and made your way back to the ship.

The thought of the settlement suddenly entered your mind, but logically, the town is much farther from your training course in the forest—you’ll never make it in time even if you drive with your speeder’s top speed. In the middle of your combined panic and contemplation, you stumbled upon a detour and realized it too late.

You look around and find that there are no familiar landmarks around the area.

You’re lost and alone among the trees, accompanied by the chittering of unseen animals, and the apparent presence of the Empire… or the Inquisitors.

[capricornus-rex]

The Haunt of Redemption (6)

Sequel to: A Path I Can’t Follow

Chapter 6: The Hermit | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: It has been months since your last encounter with Cal, at that time he was a fledgling Inquisitor. In an ironic twist of fate, you cross paths and blades with him once again, and he’s keen on turning you into an Inquisitor as well—unless you bring him back to the light first.

Tags: Dark Side! Cal Kestis, Inquisitor! Cal Kestis, Redemption Arc! Cal Kestis

Also posted in AO3

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 | Previous: Chapter 5 | Next: Chapter 7 | Masterlist

6 of ?

So many questions rang in Cere’s mind, though she took her time in listing them up neatly in her mind. She started with the question why Imperials have arrived to the planet and started obliterating the biggest settlement.

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask Cal,”

“Cal?” Greez was taken aback by the mention of his name. “Cal was there?”

“Yeah,” your pursed your lips and clicked your tongue. “I suppose he’s an Inquisitor now.”

“What? An Inquisitor?!” the Lateron captain exclaimed in disbelief.

“Well, given the last time we saw him, we all thought it was highly likely, innit?”

Cere ticked off that question and went on with the next.

“[y/n],” she cautiously spoke this time, gulping the lump stuck in her throat. “Did Cal do all that? The town?”

You swiveled your chair to face Cere—and Merrin who’s standing by the woman’s chair—and sighed.

“Yes. He told me that it was his directive to attack the town. How he found us here is something I don’t know, but I have a theory: they might have had spies in the town, though I shouldn’t be surprised since there were troopers there in the first place. My gravest assumption would be anyone in the Yewa Docking Bay.”

Loud sighs and nervous murmurs spoke for everybody in the cockpit. Everyone couldn’t utter a word. You swiveled the chair back and started inputting coordinates on the computer.

“What are you doing now?” the captain scolded.

“He’s still after the Holocron we retrieved from Magyon. I know someone who can be a better keeper, he’ll be the very least the Inquisitors—or Cal for that matter—will expect. At the same time, we’ll make our trail cold.”

The captain confirmed the coordinates that you’ve encoded into the navigation computer and got the ship ready for a jump to lightspeed. He cranked the lever and the ship enters hyperspace. When the situation has calmed down, you spun your chair again to face Cere.

“Cere, a word?”

“Of course,”

The woman promptly stood up from her seat and settled yourselves on the couch at the holotable.

“Something on your mind?”

“When I fought Cal, he was so different—he’s gotten more aggressive and heavier with his attacks. It’s like I barely knew him, even though he was such a familiar face. Frankly, he was scary,”

“It apparently has something to do with the training he received as an Inquisitor,”

“There’s another,” you adjusted yourself in your seat. “You know about my Force-Halt, right? The day we left Bogano.”

She nodded, urging you to continue.

“Well, it turns out, Cal knows how to use it too,”

The uneasiness became more evident in Cere: her eyebrows furrowed, her head turned to the floor, staring blankly at it while she registers that information.

“But,” that word cut off Cere from further zoning out. “He bragged to me that he’s mastered it, though, it also lasted for a short time. That’s why I was able to break free.”

Comparing the durations between your Force-Halt and his, you recalled the last moments that unfurled in Koboth—that day, you were able to keep him under the ability’s influence even from a long distance; though you couldn’t pinpoint whether the distance or voluntarily letting go factored to him breaking free. Both possibilities were logical, but there only has to be one.

“Then it could only mean he’s learned it later than you did. Perhaps, he’s still learning the ropes of it. Either way, you have to be careful whenever he does use it on you,”

Without a doubt, Cal will use it on you the next time he does. For now, the thing on your mind right now is getting to the planet where that person may be, and then hop to the next planet.

The trip was long so you retreat to your room, changed into a tank top and fresh pants to let your drenched outfit dry up. You donned a poncho to keep yourself warm from the Mantis’s air-conditioning.

You fished out the Holocron that you have been keeping in one of your bags. You sat in the lounge, joining Cere who was strumming away with her hallikset, she noticed the cyan cube pulsating its light in your hand.

“[y/n]?”

“You know, we’ve kept it all this time and not a day goes by without me thinking what could be inside,”

You look to Cere for some sort of affirmation or reassurance. The cube weighed on the flat of your palm and you channeled the Force from yourself to the Holocron. A rhythmic clicking noise emitted from the golden frame of the artifact, the once-whole pieces reduced into floating shards until a projection hatched out.

It was Plo Koon’s list of the Force-sensitive children he’s discovered throughout his journey.

“It’s exactly like the first one,” Merrin commented.

All eyes wandered across the luminous, indigo hologram riddled with the names written in Aurebesh. The projection is visualized like a sort of map, hence its circular image, with the dots signifying the planets where they could be found. The projection continued to hover and illuminate the room.

“There’s something on my mind that I want to say to you, [y/n],”

“Shoot,”

“This planet we’re heading to, how did you come to know it? What makes you think there’s someone who can keep it safer than we could?”

It was a good question. You search for the Cere’s holocron, you reached for it using the Force when you spotted it sitting on the corner of the dining table. Cere understood your plan, and you haven’t even activated it yet.

“You actually think that he’s there—in the planet that we’re heading to right now?”

“Look, Cere, I know it’s funny and you probably think I’m crazy or stupid or both. I don’t blame you if you think it’s illogical but…” you scoffed out a weak laugh, trying to gather the best words to be coherent. “I can’t explain it. Even when meditating, I feel it, the Force—as if speaking to me, telling me to trust my feelings. At first I didn’t listen to it because I thought the Force is toying with me just because I’ve become vulnerable all this time. But this time, I don’t think I have an excuse to not trust in my own instincts.”

There was a silence in the lounge. The microphone’s feedback crackled and a muffled rendition of Greez’s voice rang through the speakers.

“We’ve entered the planet’s orbit.”

All the women marched to the cockpit and got a view of the beige, sandy planet. Even from that a great distance, you felt a strong pull of the Force leading you on. That feeling was enough of a reassurance.

You assisted Greez in steering the ship, pinpointing safe areas that you could find in your navigation computer and then transmitting them to his own screen for him to follow. The Mantis landed behind a ridge where they’re safe from prying eyes. You suited up a poncho over your jacket so you blend with the sand and then pull up the hood; your bag containing the holocron and a few necessary items slung across your back. BD-1 crawled up your arm and then perched on your shoulder.

“How long do we have before the next jump is charged and ready?”

“Give it a few hours,” Greez replied.

“I won’t be long,” you tell Cere.

“Be careful out there,”

“Don’t I always?”

“Not really,”

It was the truth, though it warranted a laugh out of you.

You left the ship and began your trek through the flat, sandy wasteland. The low-lying haze of dust swept through your calves as you stamp your feet across the terrain. It felt like you’ve brought yourself to a purgatory of nothingness—save the extreme combined heat of two suns and the winds constantly changing direction to whisk up towers of dust clouds.

The golden brown sediments pricked the pores on your cheeks, you’ve already pulled up the flaps of your poncho to cover your nose and mouth but it didn’t do much. When the winds have picked up again, you found yourself passing through a low trench, shielding yourself from the inconvenience out in the open.

“Spooky, isn’t it, BD?”

“Boooo…”

“Don’t worry, I’m here, buddy.”

You unclipped your saber but didn’t ignite it, readying yourself for any attack that comes in the way.

An animalistic howl echoed between the crevices of the rocks and then you were jumped by a Tusken Raider! The end of its staff struck you across the cheek before you could even attack, causing you to drop your saber. Its weapon jabbed hard on your shin—and the pain was stomach-churning. You scuttled away from it and towards your lightsaber lying in a cushion of sand.

You had your hands literally full—on one, you were pulling for your saber; on the other, you inflicted Force-Halt on the Tusken. With the enemy frozen, your scuttling doubled its haste in going for the lightsaber. Certain with your ability, you took your time in hobbling back to the Tusken Raider you’re your saber ignited while it was standing painfully still.

You struck it down and snapped for a stim. It wasn’t a total recovery, the stim only numbed the pain tolerable enough for you to run with a shattered shin. When the curb of the pass was in sight, you slowed down with the running, presuming there might be more waiting once you make the turn. You stalked the path carefully, apparently your would-be assailant lost its patience and sprung out of its hiding place; holding the staff above its head and bobbing it up and down to assert dominance while doing its primal call.

The broken shin messed up your balance, and subsequently your fighting form. A swing of your saber severed its war club and then you introduced the sole of your boot to its chin, disorienting it and preparing to strike it down—but you were denied that chance when another gripped you by the shoulders to drag you across the floor.

“GET OFF!” you growled, violently shaking its grip off of you.

You threw your sword arm upward and drove your saber into the Tusken’s jugular—which you assumed it to be—and then its lifeless body disturbed the sand. This angered the one whose staff you just severed. It charged angrily towards you, there wasn’t a shred of sentience or humanity in its stride; you felt something or someone land from behind—you were too afraid to look and it would kill you if you glance over your shoulder. The Tusken Raider, once so wild with its movements and flailing its arms with great assertion, shirked in fear and retreated to the pass where it came from.

You felt a pair of gentle, kind hands clutch your arms, hoisting you up from the ground.

“You caught yourself in quite a pickle there, my dear,”

Still stricken with the events that transpired just now, you slowly craned your head to the side. Your savior is dressed in a dust-caked cloak whose hemlines at the sleeves and body were tattered due to time, his beard has grown past the tip of his chin and covered most of his jaw, and locks of his hair as brown as the sand flopped and hung in front of his forehead.

You know this man.

“Master Kenobi?” you uttered the only thing that came to your mind after everything.

“Well, I don’t think the word ‘Master’ warrants any meaning here,” he dryly chuckled. “Come, you’ve only met a small scouting patrol. We’ll be in big trouble if we linger.”

You winced when you planted the balls of your feet on the ground. The former Jedi Master saw your limping leg and noticed the bruise forming up in your cheek.

“Oh dear, are you alright, child?”

“Yes, I’m fine,”

“I think not,” he insisted. He bent down on his knees and checked your leg. He placed one hand on the spot where the Tusken had jabbed its pommel and suddenly appeared to be focusing.

A calming sensation entered your body—it was cool like water in a stream and swirled about the length of your shin. Obi-Wan withdrew his hand and you bobbed your leg, feeling for the pain—there’s no more pain. You shot him a surprised look and a smile paints on your face, he repaid it with a kind smile but his serious and urgent tone returned in an instant.

“Come with me and we’ll talk somewhere safe.”

You followed him across the ridge, evading the areas where there would be more Tusken Raiders patrolling the plains. The rocks acted as your cover. Along the way, Obi-Wan engaged in banter with you to rid any awkward air between the two of you.

“I suppose I should start asking for your name,”

“[y/n], Master,”

“And how did you get here?”

“You mean the planet or that trench pass?”

“Humor me on both,”

“Well, I came to this planet with a ship and a crew. They’re staying with the ship,”

“While you head out here all alone?”

“Uh, I chose to be alone,” you mumbled. “Anyway, I trekked all this way to come looking for you.”

“I suppose you can tick that off in your to-do list,”

You chuckled, “Yeah, I guess.”

The two of you went uphill until a small cottage was in sight. He invited you into his house and offered you a glass of blue milk. You didn’t realize that the thirst was overwhelming that you chugged the whole glass.

“Sorry, the heat just took its toll on me,”

“It is a rather unforgiving place. Now then,” he settled himself on a seat across you. “What’s a young Jedi like you doing in this desolate planet in search of a tired, aging hermit like me?”

You unslung the strap of your backpack, producing the Holocron out of your bag and holding it in front of him.

“This Holocron was originally Plo Koon’s,”

Obi-Wan mouthed the name while running his thumb across his beard.

“This contains a list of all the Force-sensitive children in the galaxy. If fallen into the wrong hands, these kids will be tools of the Inquisitors or the Empire—not that there’s much of a difference between the two, anyway.”

“Inquisitors?”

“Basically, they’re the hounds of the Empire, snuffing out the Jedi to destroy them. Aside from the typical Stormtroopers of course,”

Discovering that he has missed out on much of the Empire’s workings, you became his window to the outside world. It has been years since he’s exiled himself here in Tatooine with barely any connection beyond the planet. You narrated everything that’s transpired—not just the events revolving around you and Cal, but for everyone else in the galaxy: the partisans in Kashyyyk and the violent occupation at Zeffo to name some.

“And how much destruction have they wrought?”

You shake your head, “Not sure, exactly. But all I can say is that the damage is irreparable.”

Eventually, you peppered in the story of Cal, how he turned into the Inquisitor, and that he’s after this particular Holocron. Without any more filler talk, you went right into your true reason why you sought Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“Hermit or not, you’re still a Jedi—whether you were or are, it doesn’t matter. I still believe it’s safer with you than it is with me. You won’t even come across the Inquisitors’ minds. I doubt it.”

“Well, [y/n], that does sound reassuring,” you couldn’t decipher if he’s serious or sarcastic with that remark.

He stands up to take the Holocron from your hands. He activated it and the relic emitted the luminous projection from its shell, his eyes trailed left and right, reading the children’s names and planets. There was a look in his eyes that you couldn’t read—unsure if it’s a look of resignation, obligation, or hopelessness. Then his eyes lit up, a secretive curl in his lip hid behind the scruff of his beard.

“I believe that he can keep it safe, but I will reveal it to him once it is time,”

Your eyes furrowed, “Who’s he?”

He lifted the lid of a box with a silver hilt resting inside, the Holocron eventually joined the weapon in the container.

“Our only hope.”

For the whole conversation, that was the most enigmatic answer you’ve heard from Obi-Wan Kenobi. You don’t believe that it’s the heat that’s gotten into his head. You truly believe that there was some meaning to his words, even though you’re not sure what to comprehend from that.