#eternity code

[fowlblue]

So this is basically the end of TEC, right?

[comfortless]

Deep Water

nix! König x fem! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. no.. intentional harm done to reader but there are sporadic mentions of murder (drowning), König is kind of a creep here do you guys forgive me (say yes), implied sex; dubcon everything. König is wearing a fishing net rather than the usual hood because. it made sense to me sorry.

notes: yet again, i have found that i can not manage to write anything except for silly fantasy nonsense… bear with me this will pass (it will not). if you’re uncertain of what a nix is, i recommend skimming over this (or tl;dr— a shapeshifting water spirit).

You’ve always been told to beware of the river, especially on nights like this. When the singing starts up you were to run, as far and as fast as your feet could carry you. It would be the most beautiful sound you had ever heard, as well as the last. Whatever beast lies in wait along the silt of the riverbed luring people in with its haunting song isn’t kind. The drowned bodies resurfacing bloated and paled are enough for the townsfolk to assume that assuredly, a monster lies in wait someplace within the glassy water.

For all of the fear, town myths were just that— myths.

As always, there’s no singing when you seat yourself on smooth, mossy stones by the river’s bank. The moon hangs low, casting its brilliant reflection on calm, dark water. The air is alive with the buzzing of cicadas clinging to the trees at your back and night birds calling out to the wind. Nothing is amiss; it’s only peaceful, and that’s why despite the warnings, you often find yourself here when the temperature is favorable.

There are nights when the river isn’t calm, and currents are the most reliable reasoning for the deaths from past summers. The water is full of large rocks with sharp corners, teeming with plants that could so easily snare an ankle, and when the water is frothing and cruel it’s no surprise that one could be thrashed to unconsciousness if they weren’t careful.

You didn’t come here to take your chances on swimming, anyhow.

If anything, it’s a mere reprieve from the bustle of the town. No one wanders here any more since the myths gained traction, passed from mouth to listening ears time and time again, leaving this place entirely untouched. Occasionally the obnoxious teenager would cross your path on the walk here, declaring loudly to their friends about how they supposedly saw some slimy beast, eyes like moonbeams and scales like razors lying on the bank.

During your little adventures here, you often carry a snack with you, but not for yourself. Tonight, it’s just a small package of vanilla flavored cookies. In truth, they were awful— dry and near flavorless, but you suspect your friend here wouldn’t mind too terribly much, and if it got them out of your pantry without wasting it was a win for the both of you.

When the large dorsal fin crests over the water mere meters from the bank, you gratuitously crush the treats in a closed fist and toss the crumbs into the water. Time and time again, you’ve fed the large animal, watching as it thrashes about just below the surface before disappearing back into its depths. You’ve never gotten a good look at it, either, but you imagine it must stretch out past your height or further; some sort of gar or sturgeon.

Just as many times before, it glides further in, fin entirely out of sight now. The only evidence of it ever appearing at all were the small waves rippling in its wake. All is quieted once more as you embrace the placid bliss, readying your small flashlight and losing yourself into the book perched in your lap.

The next night, you’re greeted by a large snake basking over the rock you typically sat upon. It lies still, coiled into itself as it regards you, forked tongue flicking out for several moments before it simply slithers off, hiding itself away beneath the moss and stone.

“Best to leave you alone, huh?,” you ask to it’s retreating tail, feeling a bit silly for speaking to the reptile at all. It doesn’t respond, of course, nor does it bother to come out of hiding either.

You opt to seat yourself on the hill overlooking the water instead.

You find that after a day occupied by tedious tasks, there truly was no greater place to abandon your woes than here. Everything was peaceful; wild yet simplistic. Even with all of the death that seemed to haunt this place, you never feared the thought of ghosts. You’ve even entertained your imagination a time or two, that if you ever did meet one, you would only ask it not to disturb the wildlife you have grown so fond.

There’s a freedom and a mystery to places like this, places without the foot traffic of other people. It brings with it a sense of whimsy, especially when you glance towards the water and see the surface reflecting every twinkling star above.

The fish doesn’t appear, even as you listen to the water in wait, your head tilted as you lie back on soft grass to watch for ripples, for the swell of a large fin moving beneath. Nothing. You read your book as the night progresses, nearly completing it entirely before you make your way back home.

Weeks pass by like this— work, river, home and repeat. Occasionally it’s the same large snake that greets you when you wander there, more often it’s the large fish circling about waiting for crumbs of whatever treat you choose to bring. The bank and the small hill overlooking it have become a separate home to you, one where you can be away with the fairies, talking to your animal friends that never seem to stick around for long.

When the weather grows warmer, you even dare to take a swim.

You’re stood on the slick stones of the bank, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of underwear. It’s not proper swimming attire, but you reason that you’re not at the beach, not a soul is around, and it doesn’t really matter at all that you might look a bit silly. The prospect of swimming along that behemoth below is a tad terrifying, but you wouldn’t dare to wander too far in. Maybe the fish would even be intelligent enough to not attempt to eat you after you’ve been so kind to it.

It’s hot, and with a sticky layer of sweat glossing your skin, your worries seem minuscule in light of an easy way of cooling off. You toe at the calm water for a moment, testing its temperature before willing yourself to take a step forward, then another before you seat yourself in the vibrant expanse of darkened blue. Here, you realize, is the best place to stargaze, too; they shimmer all around you, within reach as you tap at the surface of water, watching it undulate beneath the pressure of your fingertips.

You could reach the moon, too, if you swam further out. A few meters from the bank and you would be directly beneath its reflection, bathed in that ethereal glow.

You watch for your friend for a time, trying to prioritize your wariness over your whimsy. When the fish doesn’t tread by you, the water remaining calm, you rise to your feet and take slow, metered steps as the water parts and flows against your shins.

Though the river is disturbed no matter how gently you stride forward, nothing slides out from its depths in pursuit of you. Nothing happens at all when you reach out to splay your hand out against the reflection, the water now gently lapping against your stomach rather than your legs.

You hadn’t expected any sort of shift in your reality, that would be ridiculous, but perhaps some sort of clarity; a further calm for a weary mind. It doesn’t come, and with a disheartened splash you wade your way back towards the shore.

This has been your sanctuary for some time. Excusing the snake, there’s not been any sort of threat to you, not here. A safe water world all your own. Though, that peace is shattered the moment that you make it to the bank and hear the water shift some small distance behind you. Turning your head, you’re met with the sight of a man, the bulky muscular silhouette towering in the patch of moonlight you had just stood in. Bright blue eyes catch the light, reflecting like an animal’s as you scramble back to where you’ve left your shorts.

He stands there, silent and unmoving like an obelisk even as you hastily dress yourself with a thundering heart and breaths that sound more or less like gasps, senses heightened by your panic as you turn tail to run.

No one had been there. You were sure of it when you sunk into the water. There was no sound when this person had swam over to take your place. He was just there, as if he had been the entire time and you somehow failed to notice.

You make your way into the woods framing this place, hurried steps and untied shoelaces. You don’t even bother with your flashlight.

Finding your way back home with aches in every muscle, the desperate rampage you had taken to get away finally coming to a close when the door slams shut behind you, you quickly shower and mull over what’s just happened. A ghost, perhaps. It had to of been. Any other person would have made noise in their approach, especially being that big. The mind could play its tricks; what you had seen was likely not even there at all— a terrifying figment of your imagination. That sets you at ease, somewhat, but not enough.

You don’t sleep well that night, tucked beneath your blanket and staring at the filtered moonlight through your curtains. Work isn’t on your mind at all come morning until your phone chimes with a notification from your manager, questioning your tardiness. A languid crawl out of bed follows, another shower, an unsatisfying breakfast, all before you opt to send a text back to let him know you won’t be in today.

It could be excused, you’re reliable and decent enough at the job; not one to boast, but far more eager to please than the rest of your coworkers. You would be entirely useless if you went in on no sleep, you reason.

You don’t want to go back there, not under the veil of night, but you find yourself horribly curious the longer that you bide your time indoors. You had to know if the thing that you saw was really there, had to calm your nerves. What if he had always been watching each time, and you simply hadn’t noticed? The forest bordering the river is terribly dark at night, anyone could crouch behind the shield of a tree and remain undetected until they willed the courage to drag you in, cup a palm over your mouth to silence your cries.

Maybe it was the monster the people in town rumored about.

The thought of some strange, silent thing living beneath the water waiting for an opportune moment to take you by the neck and drag you down to the silty floor to watch you drown horrified you. Yet, that’s the one conclusion that sticks. Those eyes… so lurid and haunting, no human being had eyes like that.

You inhale sharply, steeling your nerves as reach for a pocket knife for defense, toss it into the bag slung over your shoulder, and storm out the door.

The trek there is nothing short of dull.

No matter where you look, what shadows rise up beneath the dim glow of a falling sun, there’s nothing out in the woods. The river is equally tame. The water babbles over rock, cicadas buzz off in the distance, and not a thing seems amiss. Your search for footprints that don’t belong to the soles of your shoes turns up empty. The only thing that suggests just maybe it wasn’t all in your head is the book you had neglected to retrieve in your fear the night before.

The cover, every page within, now warped as though it had been pulled into the water and spit out to dry. You pick it up, peeling through damp pages, running your fingertips over the smeared ink. It’s possible that a particularly aggressive splash could have sullied it, but something tells you that that isn’t the case. Either way, it’s unreadable now. You sulk a bit as you slip the ruined thing into your bag and step towards the smooth stones to watch the water instead.

Night creeps in slowly with you there, and you’re on high alert for a time before you begin to relax as usual. Even giggle to yourself at how silly it was you believed you saw a ghost at all as you entertain yourself by skipping small stones across the water.

No large snake, no massive fish, no titan of a man appears before you, only a calming crescent moon and a few wandering wood ducks, gliding down from the bank to splash about. A thought comes to mind as the calm emboldens you: what would happen if you got in just one more time?

There’s nothing to suggest that you’re playing with fire as you leave your shoes neatly in the dry sand. If the ducks could swim unbothered by fish or men, then surely you could, too. You watch the little creatures a distance away as they dip their heads beneath the surface and chitter away amongst themselves while you take your first step in.

You don’t dare to go as far this time, stopping when the water brushes over your knees. You wait there while time seems to slow to a crawl, expecting the absolute worst, glancing further down the river, dipping your hand below the glassy surface until your fingertips brush the sand beneath.

It’s horribly hot and you’re still exhausted from the sleepless night before. The water feels nice, and you feel as though you have some sort of claim to it as you’ve been here more often than anyone else would dare to. Ghosts and monsters be damned, you seat yourself and let the water lap over your shoulders, tilting your head back to watch the stars.

When the singing begins it takes a moment to register just what it is that you’re hearing. It’s not beautiful, not like the myths have said. It’s hissed, a low whisper, a mockery of what a human song would sound like. The voice is rasped, lilted yet cold. The realization that it sings words from your book of poetry is what terrifies you the most, the warped pages all making sense now.

Your eyes dart to either side of you, forward, before realizing the voice is coming from behind you. Cold spreads through your veins as you try to force yourself to stand, but in your fear you find yourself petrified, rooted in water that would surely become your grave.

You can’t bring yourself to turn around, to inevitably find your eyes locked onto the shadowy frame of a man far too large, his eyes glistening and pale like the moon hanging above.

The voice pauses when it finds you unmoving, and you can hear the rustle of the creature shifting its weight where it’s stood on the rocks lining the bank. You’ve no clue how deep the river gets, where the opposite side leads, but your only chance of escape seems to be swimming through in the hopes that this thing doesn’t choose to chase after you. A part of you knows that he would, that that is exactly what he expects you to do, goading you to flee deeper with his eerie song so that he can drown you just as he did the others.

You do the opposite as you squeeze your eyes shut and crawl back towards the bank, making sure to keep some distance despite your willful blindness. You wouldn’t look at it, wouldn’t talk to it, you would just go home and never come back.

“Best to leave you alone, hm?”

You still as your fingers brush against wet moss, the voice no longer a whisper but loud, loud as it echoes your words from days past just above you. Beating back your own curiosity proves futile, because you look up at the damned thing then, expecting to see an impossible terror before you, sharp fangs wet with blood and appendages too spindly reaching out for you. Instead, you see only a man.

He’s crouched, only a meter or so away, and you immediately recognize his broad figure. The same as the night before. From this distance you can make out the finer details, the length of net covering his face and neck, the webbing between each finger. Still a scary sight, but only in the way it’s unfamiliar and imposing rather than instilling any sort of primordial fear.

“Excuse me?” You pull yourself fully out of the water, rising to your feet and taking a tentative step back. You’re prepared to run, a coil pulled too tight on the verge of snapping.

The man, creature, whatever he may be just tilts his head, lets the silence hang in the air for a moment before he has the audacity to laugh whether to himself or at the strange, bewildered expression on your face.

His stare is assessing as he sucks in a breath, follows suit in rising to his full height. From the size of him alone, you know you’re not getting away. A mere stride for him would be two or more for you, a deliberate tug of your wrist from him could snap it in an instant.

Yet, he doesn’t reach for you, only gestures toward your bag lying on the ground with a subtle flick of a finger. You give him a quizzical glance in turn, not bothering to retrieve it. You could come back during the day with a friend, gather it and never return. Only, your knife sits somewhere inside, the only protection that you’ve got. The realization spurs you to bend over and toss the strap over your shoulder.

“I’ll… I’ll be going now.”

The stare remains fixed upon you as you take another step back, blinking slowly every now and then as you both remain in some strange stasis.

It takes you a moment to put the pieces together. The reciting of words from the book, the mimicking of the words spoken to the snake, the hint at your bag… he’s expecting something and it’s not to steal away your life, only to be fed and have your company. It’s not charming, it’s awfully strange and eerie, but you find yourself giggling at the prospect of taming some murderous, shapeshifting monster with subpar treats and poetry.

You pull open the bag, searching for anything you may have brought along that he could eat, eventually prying out a small package and offering it out to him.

“Is this what you want?,” you ask, voice hushed and trembling.

He shakes his head, rustling the net cloaking him in the process. So, he understands, he’s just been willfully ignoring every other thing you’ve said prior. You store the package away with a perturbed expression crossing over your face.

“Then what?”

Any relief you had felt seems to dwindle when the giant takes a half-step closer. His skin is cool and wet as the river as he brushes his hand over your forearm, curling a set of fingers around it. The touch is gentle, but there’s a promise of violence lurking somewhere in the depths of his eyes.

“Come with me,” he urges in that harsh whisper from before, delicately squeezing as he pulls you towards him, leading you back to the river with a tight grip and a step back over the stones. Though his touch is passive, there’s a frightening strength lurking someplace beneath his flesh, tacked to bone, and as your gaze trails lower to rest to rest at your feet, the space between you two, the evidence of a life prone to violence and strength is laid bare before you.

You don’t fight the hold as he leads you to water so deep it caresses the base of your neck, right below the milky glow of a waning moon. Deeper still, as you’re pulled below, pressed down to the very bottom with his body lain over you. You can only hold your breath so long before an involuntary gasp leaves you, and a wave is funneled straight into your lungs.

Panic is fleeting, but the adrenaline stays ever-present. You claw, push, kick, to no avail. Pinned down by a hand weighing like an anchor you feel your vision flooding and hazy as his head knocks against your jaw, mouth sealing tightly over yours. It’s not a gentle kiss, the net fashioned into a hood digs into your skin, teeth scrape over your lip until you feel the sting of blood drawn.

All at once, your vision darkens and it’s over.

You find yourself lying back on the shore as the morning sun warms your face, causes your dampened shirt to cling to your skin. Disoriented, but alive, brushing your thumb over your lower lip as you sit up to stare at the subtle waves lapping over moss and rock.

Just a dream, you tell yourself, knowing full well you hadn’t fallen asleep.

Just a dream, even though you avoid the river entirely now. Your route home from work changes too, avoiding even a glimpse of the path that leads down to that place. You don’t even replace the book, you toss what remains of it after fishing through your bag, murmuring something about it surely being cursed and entertain yourself with film at night instead.

Sleep remains tentative, you wake with every sound, and your dreaming is filled with visions of a figure pushing you down into deep water, his weight bearing down upon you so heavily that you can not move until you wake with a start, eyes searching your bedroom.

Several weeks, and the fear does eventually fade.

The morning that the rain begins to fall, you realize you haven’t even thought about the river in days. There’s no monster prowling your nightmares anymore. You lived through what may or may not have occurred, and that was the end of it, simple as it may have been.

A late shift at work has you wandering out into the rain, umbrella in hand. You’re grateful that you live close, that you’re not entirely soaked to the bone when you step inside of the mundane building. Your coworkers notice your change in demeanor immediately, chirping about how glad they are that you’re finally feeling better, looking more yourself as the hours pass you by. It brings a smile to your face, a real one that you haven’t had in place since that last night.

Even in the summer, there’s a chill to the air in the late afternoon as you hurry home from work and make your way inside, stripping out of your wet clothes and setting your umbrella aside. It’s darker outside than it should be, even more so indoors. Reaching for the switch to turn on the lights proves useless— the power’s out.

You light your way with your phone, ignoring the way your pulse quickens and your heart flutters with the fear that something just doesn’t feel right. Your skin prickles with the thought of some unseen pair of eyes watching you, blue and cold. You only relax when you slam your bedroom door shut, locking it and pressing your forehead to the wood as you sigh. The puff of breath that escapes your lips is not the only in the room, you find out when the light of your phone illuminated your bed. Crouched beside it, a towering figure with a face veiled by fishing net. Words don’t come when you open your mouth to speak, and your heart stutters in your chest as you stand shaking but otherwise petrified.

“You didn’t come back.”

Of course you hadn’t.

Most people wouldn’t have.

“No. I’ve been… busy,” you choke out the excuse, hoping to pacify whatever emotion you imagine lurked beneath his tone, undetectable through the hiss of his voice. “I’ll visit soon, promise,” you lie, back pressed against the door as your fingers curl over the knob.

Your fear seems almost unwarranted. He doesn’t move toward you, only stands to wander back to the window where he must have broken in.

“Tonight?,” he asks in a voice so soft, the voice he must use as a lure because tugs at your heartstrings immediately, makes you want to follow despite the threat this thing poses merely by existing, despite everything.

“It’s cold— I’ll get sick,” you murmur. “How did you even find me..?”

“I will keep you warm.” The question goes unanswered.

You find yourself stifled again as he lumbers towards you, brushing cold fingers across the side of your face. It’s not a mockery of a kiss you receive next but a firm bite where your neck meets shoulder, not yet hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make you shiver, to grip at the wall of muscle that makes up his chest.

There’s a desperation to his movements as he herds you towards the window, pushes you toward the path leading back to the river. You’re soaked to the bone in seconds, hardly able to keep your eyes open past the weight of dampened eyelashes. The rain is so heavy it feels as though every step is like the first you took into cursed water, your feet sinking into the mud along the path with each tentative stride. The realization that you’re there doesn’t even hit you until you’re chest-deep in the chill, violent waves pushing against you, each carrying the threat of toppling you over entirely.

The palm splayed out against your bare back keeps you upright, leading you to a smooth rock jutting out in the midst of what seems a sea of frothing white and blue. The sea above is just as dark, angry clouds roaring as you’re pressed down onto your back, shivering terribly.

He keeps his promise though, a tight grip on each thigh as he pries your legs apart, sinks in between them and blankets you from the rain. Even with the cold pressed to your back, you feel the warmth of a summer sun above you, scorching from inside, just as blazing as the look in his wild eyes. The last of any resolve slips when you’re pulled beneath the violent waves, a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses coaxing oxygen into your lungs. Each roll and pull no less tumultuous than the waves overhead. A placid end when the rain comes to an impromptu halt, just as he stills over you. Hands rush to cup your face with one final, desperate and biting kiss.

When the morning sun pulls you from sleep, cool moss against your back and the weight of his head resting over your middle, the shallow water lapping lazily at your figure, you find that you no longer fear drowning.

[tarchey]

[xoalsox]

TAEMIN + eternal parallels

[respectthepetty]

My Beautiful (Colorful) Man

Over the course of two seasons and a movie, we have witnessed My Beautiful Man/Utsukushii Kare's Hira and Kiyoi be the most dedicated color-coded boys in love.

Hira is a Blue Boy. He is stable and sincere.

But above all else, he is loyal to his idol, Kiyoi. Obsessively so.

Because even though all of the world sees Kiyoi as an arrogant, sophisticated, and secretive Black Brooder

Hira sees him as a Heavenly Human.

To him, Kiyoi is a god who should be worshiped, so Hira always lowers himself as he believes he could never be equal to such an ethereal being.

But what Hira misses is that Kiyoi is not a god in all white, but a man devoid of color and love.

Hira worships Kiyoi, but Kiyoi just wants Hira to love him, not as a god, but as a man.

So when Hira finally shows Kiyoi that he not only worships him, but loves him, he finally gives Kiyoi some of his color.

And Kiyoi quickly picks it up since all he has ever wanted is for Hira to love him.

Because as much as Hira openly admires Kiyoi, Kiyoi loves Hira immensely more.

Kiyoi's entire world is Hira, and without him, Kiyoi's world would be colorless.

Which is why Kiyoi demands that Hira sees them as equals.

He knows Hira would never cross a line with him, so Kiyoi always crosses the line first, but it's to lift Hira up and make him understand that they both love each other and are both worthy of this love.

Because when this all began, Hira wouldn't even look Kiyoi in the eyes.

But slowly, Kiyoi continued lifting Hira up.

Until finally, Hira rose on his own to meet Kiyoi where he was instead of admiring him at a distance from below.

So even though on the outside, Kiyoi comes across as dark and guarded

When it comes to Hira, the Blue Boy who gave his world color,

Kiyoi really is heaven sent.

Hira gives Kiyoi the support and love he needs. Hira gives Kiyoi color.

And as a result, Kiyoi gives Hira confidence and purpose. Kiyoi gives Hira's life meaning.

Although Hira would gladly give up his life for Kiyoi,

Kiyoi would never let that happen because he needs Hira by his side just as much as his Blue Boy needs him.

At the core of their relationship is a Blue Boy whose love for Kiyoi is deeply rooted and firmly planted in his heart.

And a Heavenly Human whose love changed him from a boy devoid of love into a man with a devoted partner.

Even if Kiyoi has to be the one to cross the line first

Hira will always follow him without question.

Because they would be adrift without the other. They are equal in life and in love. They are both beautiful men whose world is made brighter by the love they have for each other.

Their love is eternal and not even the heavens could contain it.

Gross.

[anniegamgee]

On Marika and Morgott (inspired by the poem BLACKSMITH by Zeena Abbas - pic of it under the cut)

[thepurplebacon]

👁️

[totallynotsloughjykk]

mxtx knew hualian would've been too powerful as a wlw couple so she gave us mlm instead

[thelordofgifs]

While I have an enduring hatred for the “Fëanor would be a tech bro in a modern AU” take, I would like to present a programmer!Fëanor who always comments his code SO meticulously and extensively. Meanwhile his annoying colleagues are always saying “oh haha I don’t need to comment it I just remember what the code does!” and Fëanor is seething about how documentation is important, what if you forget, what if things don’t last forever—

[lovingalways37]

Thinking about them 🤍

[simply-sithel]

and when you move, I'm moved by Catja [link]

A wee 60 pages- true mini, bound for the @renegadepublishing Tiny Book Bang. Typeset by Indoor Cat Press.

.

...this book was so tiny, I lost it in my Drafts! Sharing now, almost a year later, as the 2024 Tiny Books Bang nears it's 2nd typeset reveal

[hannibal-is-my-comfort-show]

[kate-apologist]

started the more recent af graphic novels and started a collection of background holly. i kinda love her design in this series more than the previous, but they simplify her in the background sometimes leading to some absolute gems

early books holly has my heart

[fowlblue]

One of the sad things I’ve discovered listening to TEC is like… Artemis was completely on-board with stopping his criminal exploits after they recovered the Cube. His father’s words actually struck a cord with him after Butler getting shot, and he accepted that he was putting people at risk and getting them hurt. He always intended to cheat the mind-wipe, yes, but I think there was a real chance he would have at least tried to go on the straight and narrow with his father- after all, he had accomplished his primary goal in recovering Fowl Senior.

Then the mind-wipe sets him back to square one.

[swtorpadawan]

Code Breakers

Author’s Notes: The following story serves as “Part Three” and the conclusion of my In the Shadow of the Hero Trilogy, a storyline that I began with Training Day and Incomplete and featuring my original character in Tyzen Pyne. As with those previous entries, it is part of my expanded Halcyon Legacy, and takes place on Odessen sometime between the Knights of the Fallen Empire and the Knights of the Eternal Throne expansions.

Tyzen Pyne hurried up the hill overlooking the Alliance base on Odessen, joining the many who had already made the trek.

Despite all the bustle and activity – and Tyzen’s lingering anxiety from running late to this gathering – it felt peaceful here.

The Force felt peaceful here.

Looking around, he was awed to see so many people having already assembled.

More than forty individuals were now gathered around the hilltop. Most of them were wearing brown robes of varying styles. Others wore the adaptable armor plating that had become popular during the various conflicts over the years. Others still wore more nondescript garb, clothing that - aside perhaps from the presence of a lightsaber clipped to their belts – would not give away their identities or allegiance.

Jedi. Tyzen marveled.

This was by far the most Jedi that he had seen in one place in years. Not since early in the Zakuulan Invasion, when he and other Padawans had been Knighted on Tython before being sent off to fight.

And to die.

Back before the Republic had given up any hope for victory against the Eternal Empire and before the Jedi Order had been shattered.

As had Tyzen.

And now he was here. On Odessen. Ready to take the fight back to the Zakuulans. Standing amongst the last group of Jedi in the galaxy who could make that claim.

Not for the first time that day, Tyzen thought of Liam Dentiri, his old Master, dead at the hands of some bounty hunter in the pay of Imperials on Tython years ago when the Sith Empire had attacked, prior to the Revanite Crisis.

What would he have thought of his former padawan now?

He was lucky to have learned about this gathering at all, given that his transport – actually a freighter piloted by a friendly smuggler – had only arrived on Odessen late last night, and he’d met only a handful of people in that time.

Fortunately for him, Sana-Rae, the Voss Mystic and leader of the Alliance’s Force Enclave, had kindly informed him of this meeting of all the Jedi who had joined the Alliance when he’d gone to meet her.   

Tyzen regarded the crowd, trying to see if he could recognize anyone in all the small clusters of Jedi congregating amongst themselves.

Although a diverse group by nature, one Jedi stood out to him immediately, her blue skin and red eyes giving her a distinct appearance.

He had never met Master Dazh Ranos, one of the exceedingly rare Chiss who had left their Ascendency to serve with the Jedi Order. But Tyzen had heard rumors about her back on Tython. Despite her achieving the rank of Master, it was said that the Chiss Jedi had never agreed with the Council’s policies and had eventually withdrawn to make her own place in the galaxy, journeying through the Outer Rim Territories and helping people wherever she could. Tyzen imagined that she had seen parts of the galaxy that had never seen a Jedi, especially at times when so many had been needed closer to the galaxy’s core.

He didn’t recognize the towering Ithorian Jedi standing at her side, but he’d already been told that his name was Choza Raabat. Serving as a Jedi Knight during the Cold War, Raabat had crashed on a distant planet in the Unknown Regions while leading a Republic patrol. Marooned for a decade, the Jedi had eventually returned to a galaxy turned upside down with the Order all but wiped out the Republic suffering through another defeat, this time at the hands of the ascendant Eternal Empire.  

Tyzen had heard that the Alliance Commander himself had personally recruited Choza to his cause while on a mission to destroy the Zakuulan Star Fortress above Alderaan some weeks ago. Since then, he – alongside Master Ranos – had taken up a de facto position of leadership among the Alliance Jedi.

That story hadn’t surprised him; Tyzen already had the impression that a great many people had joined the Alliance based on prior meetings with the famous Outlander.

Case in point was the next Jedi he recognized.

Mennaus was a Zabrak Jedi Knight just like Tyzen. The stoic man was only in his mid-thirties but he carried himself like a wizened Jedi Master with decades of experience, seeming to speak only when he had something to say, but doing so with an impressive gravity.

Tyzen had met Mennaus two years ago on Coruscant. Well beneath the surface, of course. Places like the Works were one of the few places left on the Republic capital where they could avoid detection from Zakuul and their dreaded Fortresses. Mennaus had impressed Tyzen with his bearing and resolve; the man seemed to have endured the difficult years in the Coruscanti underground surprisingly well. They had exchanged information, then spoken briefly about easier days back on Tython. Mennaus revealed that, years before on Tython, he had once been saved by a fellow Padawan during the Flesh Raider Uprising.

That same Padawan, nearly thirteen years later, now commanded the Alliance.     

As he recognized more individuals from the crowd, Tyzen looked around, trying to pick out the Alliance Commander. Sana-Rae had told him that it had been the Outlander himself who had called this meeting. Perhaps he was still making his way from the base.

Tyzen deeply regretted not being able to meet with the Commander since his arrival on Odessen the day before. There were things he wanted to say to him. And to ask him.

After all, he hadn’t seen Corellan Halcyon in seven years.   

Tyzen had only met Master Corellan twice before, but both encounters had left a profound impression on his life. He very much would have liked the chance to reintroduce himself to the man once known to the galaxy as the Hero of Tython.

He probably won’t even remember me. Tyzen reminded himself, regretfully.

To many Jedi of Tyzen’s generation, the last class of Jedi Knights to have come of age on Tython before ‘The Fall’, Corellan Halcyon, the venerated Hero of Tython, was the reason the words ‘I am a Jedi’ meant something.

Before Master Corellan had disappeared, presumed killed in action. Just before the Zakuulan Invasion had begun.

Tyzen hoped he had grown up somewhat since those earlier encounters with the famed Hero of Tython. Perhaps not that much taller; his body has stopped growing vertically around seventeen. He’d filled out a bit; his muscles developing and his shoulders growing wider and more confident. Still, overall his build had remained relatively lean and agile, as it had been when he’d been a Padawan.

But his eyes had seen more of the galaxy.

Perhaps too much.

True, Tyzen had not been present for The Fall when – despite a heroic effort and countless sacrifices – the Jedi and their Republic allies on Tython had broken. When Master Satele, the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, had gone missing, apparently on some unsanctioned personal mission. The only members of the Council still active, Masters Ulannium and Gnost-Dural, had evacuated the Temple and the fabled Jedi home world, taking with them all the Jedi they could save and leading them into exile.

Denielle had gone with them.   

Denielle.

He’d tried not to think about her over the years. He’d also tried not to think about her smile. Her laugh. Her kindness. Her touch.

Above all, he’d tried not to think about the sensation of her soft lips pressed against his.

It had all been a mistake. He’d told himself after they’d ended it. The Masters had always preached against such “connections”. 

But Tyzen couldn’t deny their all too brief relationship had left a mark upon his soul. He still felt her absence from his life keenly, even after all this time.

It had been more than five years since he had seen her.

Not since that night on Tatooine when she’d departed off-world with the other Jedi from their combat group, fully understanding that her next battle would be on Tython.

Where the Order would either make good on their escape or face annihilation.

Their parting – he knew other people would have called it a breakup – had been somber. There had been no harsh words; just a regret and acceptance that both of them now felt compelled to follow different paths.

Tyzen understood that Denielle felt that the Jedi on Tython – already preparing to evacuate – needed her aid the most. After all, the fate of the Jedi Order would be decided there.

But there had been people on Tatooine – and countless other worlds – who would need the Jedi’s help. Who needed Tyzen’s help.

And he told himself that Corellan Halcyon wouldn’t have abandoned all those people.

So they had kissed one final time, before Denielle, tears in her eyes, had turned her back to him and left.

Tyzen’s plan to keep fighting on Tatooine had been futile, of course. Within a month, Algrunar, the only other Jedi who had stayed behind, had been killed and what counted for the local government on Tatooine had capitulated. When he’d realized that the people of Tatooine had only suffered more for his presence, Tyzen had finally been forced to flee as well, a local farmer named Galen Besk providing him with a way off-world.

By then, Denielle and the other Jedi had left Tyzen and the rest of the galaxy behind.

He could only hope that she was alright.

Not much later, he’d received a short message from Master Bela Kiwiiks. The encrypted communique had been routed through a secure relay and into his private drop account, no doubt to avoid detection by the Eternal Empire. The Togrutan Jedi had served on the Council for as long as Tyzen could remember, and he’d once helped her evacuate younglings from the Temple during the same battle where Liam Dentiri had met his end.

Master Kiwiiks confirmed to him that most of the surviving Jedi had successfully escaped off Tython and into exile, but that the Force had called on a different path.

Tyzen found that he wasn’t surprised. Master Kiwiiks was still highly regarded for her wisdom and compassion, but she’d be the first to admit that her days as a warrior were long past. He did not fault her for her for making such a choice.

She and her unnamed companions – he suspected they were again younglings, representing the future of the Jedi – were safe for the moment, and she was now caring for those who most needed it.

Tyzen again found that he wasn’t surprised. Master Kiwiiks was a natural caregiver. The council had selected her to oversee the well-being of the Order’s younglings in the first place for a good reason.

She’d somehow known that Tyzen hadn’t been with the Jedi who’d fled Tython and told him that if he needed sanctuary from the Zakuulans, she could offer it.

The offer did not surprise him. She’d always shown him such compassion. That she’d take a risk, however small, to offer him a safe-haven actually seemed natural for her.

When he had declined her offer, Tyzen’s own choice had surprised him a bit.

Fighting the Zakuulans on his own? Without the support of the Jedi? For a Republic that had all but surrendered?

Tyzen had been terrified.

But he knew he couldn’t give up. He had to keep fighting for those who couldn’t flee or protect themselves. If not on Tatooine, then on a hundred other worlds.

Because he knew that the Hero of Tython wouldn’t have given up.

In the dark days that followed, Tyzen helped whomever he could, whenever he could, however he could, while finding food and shelter wherever he could, all the while never staying in the same place for long.

The Eternal Empire’s pogrom against the Jedi had been vicious and even more devastating than what the Order of the Sith had faced. Clearly, Emperor Arcann had determined that if there was a threat of resistance against their rule, the Jedi would have been the most likely source for such a spark of hope for the galaxy.

Now on Odessen, as part of an Alliance led by a Jedi, Tyzen supposed that history had proven that assertion correct.

The so-called ‘Shadow Temple’ network, those Jedi who hadn’t withdrawn from the galaxy and who were now operating in an informal underground, had determined that the few Jedi still active and opposing Zakuul would live longer when they didn’t stay together for longer than was strictly necessary. Occasionally, he’d get word about another Jedi. Sometimes he would hear a bit of gossip that some other Jedi or another was still active and something of their activities.

More often, he’d hear that someone had been caught and killed.

Still, he’d worked with a few other Jedi off and on over the years. Unaw Aharo. Shigar Konshi. Attros Finn. A handful of others. He’d realized one day that most of these individuals were only a few years older than Tyzen himself.

There seemed to be so few of the old Masters still left.

It had been a hard life. And a lonely life.

But he had kept at it. Again, because he knew the Hero of Tython wouldn’t have given up.

Even his cousin, Karache, had eventually reached out to him. He hadn’t seen the Republic Special Forces soldier-turn-independent bounty hunter in more than a decade, but the older Zabrak had nevertheless offered him a place in his crew.

“The Jedi are long gone, Tyzen.” Karache Pyne had declared in his holo-message. “It’s everyone for themselves, out here. Why don’t you come with me? You’d be good in a fight. We can use you.”

By then, Tyzen desperately wanted to say yes. The years had taken a toll on him. Too many cold and hungry nights. Too many allies lost.

Too many friends lost.

Even worse, Tyzen had started to lose hope.

He turned his cousin down, again choosing to follow his own path. The path of the hero.

Because the Hero of Tython wouldn’t have given up.

And now, after nearly five years of fighting, running and hiding, Tyzen found himself here on Odessen. Ready to fight alongside the Hero of Tython.

As if on cue, Tyzen felt a sudden surge in the Force.

The light side of the Force had already felt strong atop this hill, in the presence of so many Jedi. It was peaceful and calming and soothed his wounded soul.

Now it was as if a blinding spotlight were being shown down on them all, even though it was late morning, and the sun was already high in the sky.

It was powerful and invigorating and inspirational.

Had Master Corellan Halcyon been concealing himself, somehow? Hiding behind some nearby bushes, or perhaps a tree a short distance away? Maybe he’d somehow hidden himself through the Force?

It didn’t matter. Tyzen decided. Regardless of where he’d been, he was suddenly there, standing at ease amidst the Jedi. From his confident stance and smile, he’d obviously been watching for some time now, choosing the moment to make his entrance.

Tyzen noted immediately that Corellan wasn’t wearing the distinctive brown Jedi robes or the adaptive body armor he had made famous during his years as the Hero of Tython. Instead he was clad in a new garment; this uniform was elaborate, predominantly white plating with black sleeves and trousers. The accoutrements had a distinctly… Zakuulan flavor, much to Tyzen’s surprise.

But even so, this was who Master Corellan Halcyon, the Hero of Tython, the Battlemaster of the Jedi Order and the champion of the known galaxy, had become.

And if anything, he had become an even greater hero. Just a few weeks ago, Master Corellan had defeated Emperor Arcann in orbit over Odessen, effectively toppling that tyrant from the Eternal Throne. Zakuul was now ruled by Arcann’s sister, Vaylin, who if anything was even more cruel and insane than her brother.

Everyone on Odessen seemed convinced that the Commander and his Alliance would now defeat Empress Vaylin and end the Eternal Empire that had plagued the galaxy for so many years.

Master Corellan himself looked to be in excellent health, despite the countless challenges he had faced. Tyzen had heard, of course, about the five years that he had spent imprisoned in carbonite, isolated from the rest of the galaxy. The reason why he’d been missing for so long. The reason why he’d missed the war. Why he hadn’t been there to save the Jedi, the Republic and the galaxy.

As difficult as the last few years had been for Tyzen, the younger Jedi couldn’t imagine losing so much time off his life.

Still, Corellan looked older. Not physically, exactly. But there was a look in his pale blue eyes that was somehow more… something.

“Thank you all for coming.” Corellan Halcyon formally began the gathering with a welcoming smile. It was the same expression Tyzen had once seen on countless Republic military recruitment posters during the war against the Sith Empire.

The ‘Hero of Tython’ smile.

Looking around, Tyzen could see that the other Jedi had been as startled by Corellan’s sudden appearance as he had been. After a moment of bustle, however, the gathered Jedi settled down to listen.

“I have three matters I wanted to speak with you all about today. Things you all have a right to hear directly from me. I wanted to do so in a place where we had relative privacy.”

His arms opened wide, as if taking in the scenery around them on the hilltop.

“I assure you all, I have seen to it that we may all speak freely here.”

The implication of his declaration was not lost on Tyzen. He recalled hearing that the Alliance’s Chief of Staff, Lana Beniko, was a Sith as well as having once served as the Empire’s Director of Sith Intelligence. Likewise, it was said that there were many other former spies in the Alliance from both the Republic and the Empire, as well as others who would have – until recently at least – had more than enough reason to ‘observe’ the Jedi.

Corellan Halcyon was staking his word that none of these elements would be a concern for them today.

“For the first matter, I’d like to formally thank all of you for making it to Odessen and joining the Alliance. Regardless of whether you were here on the day we laid ground on the base or if you’re only just now arriving, the fact that you were willing to endure such challenges and dangers just to reach this point is remarkable. I know full well that there are many we all would have wished to have with us today who did not make.”

He paused, a somber expression across his face.

Tyzen momentarily thought about the many Jedi had known who’d been killed over the years. He urgently suppressed the emotion as Corellan continued to speak.

“I also know the last several years must have been incredibly difficult for most of you. Both as Jedi and as people.”  

Corellan’s eyes drifted among the crowd, turning from Jedi to Jedi, catching several of them in his gaze before continuing on to the next. He finally caught Tyzen himself, and the young Zabrak felt a rush of excitement course through him.

“Likewise, that you would show such trust in me by coming here under such conditions honors me more than I can ever tell you. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to express my gratitude for that, and I hope to prove myself worthy of it.”

Many of the assembled Jedi gave murmurs of assent and affirmation while others waited patiently. Tyzen distinctly picked up the words “We’re with you, Master Corellan.” from one of the younger Jedi.

Not trusting himself to speak, Tyzen found himself simply nodding. He could not think of anyone better suited to lead this fight against Zakuul than the Hero of Tython. Corellan Halcyon was surely the leader who would lead the Jedi back to glory. He would shatter the Eternal Empire’s grip on power and would usher in a new era of peace to the galaxy.

Nevertheless, Tyzen kept his peace, eager to hear more. Through the eddies of the Force around him, he noted that the words had been well-received and appreciated by the Jedi of the Alliance.

But everyone seemed to understand that this was all prelude to something much more important.

Tyzen hoped he knew what that was. Whether he knew it or not, Corellan Halcyon was now leading the largest active contingent of Jedi in the known galaxy.

Why shouldn’t he declare himself Grandmaster of the Order? Tyzen asked himself, speculating.

The Alliance Commander, after a moment’s pause, pressed on.

“The second matter I wanted to share with you was that we have two new additions to the Alliance who are arriving within in a few days: Leeha Narezz and Jomar Chul. For those who are unfamiliar with them, I can personally attest that both are veteran Jedi Knights of great ability and experience. I have no doubt that their arrival will greatly benefit the Alliance.”

Tyzen recognized the names. He had never met either of those Jedi, but they had been active during the last war against the Sith Empire. If he recalled correctly, Leeha was a famed droid engineer while Jomar had been one of the finest reconnaissance scouts and infiltration experts in the Order before the Eternal Empire’s invasion. Both were just a few years older than Master Corellan. 

More recently, he’d heard a rumor that they had served off and on with the Shadow Temple since the invasion these last few years, as had Tyzen.

Corellan paused again, letting another murmur pass through the assembled group before continuing. At some point, this Jedi hero, considered by many the greatest warrior in the galaxy, had learned the art of public speaking. Clearly, he was carefully weighing the mood of his audience.

“With their consent, I am informing you all ahead of their arrival that the two of them have been living openly in a romantic relationship and they have been for several years.”

Tyzen blinked as the resurgence of urgent murmuring resumed, with several of the Jedi present beginning to call out questions for the Alliance Commander. Inevitably, Tyzen himself could only think of his relationship with Denielle with regret.

She had made the choice she’d had to make, and so had he.

That didn’t mean it hurt less.

But for Leeha and Jomar, acknowledging such public breakings from the Jedi code would usually result in their dismissal from the Order.   

Corellan calmly waited for the assembled Jedi to digest his words, then held up a forestalling hand. He had clearly expected such a reaction.

Slowly, the crowd became calm.

“For the record, speaking strictly as the Alliance Commander, I meant what I said before. I have no concerns whatsoever about Leeha or Jomar’s ability to reliably serve as members of the Alliance.” He paused. “However, I know that many of you would have concerns about Jedi openly embracing such a… connection. I assure you, Leeha and Jomar are not oblivious to the implications of their relationship for the rest of you.”

There was another pause as the gathered Jedi seemed to collectively nod in understanding.

“As you know, the council is currently absent, and there is no other legitimate authority to govern such matters. Therefore, I leave it to you to decide whether or not they should be considered Jedi. Both Leeha and Jomar have assured me that they will accept whatever judgement you reach without complaint or appeal.”

“For my own part, I would not presume to interfere in your decision. I ask only that you accept them as fellow members of the Alliance, and to treat them with the respect and courtesy that entails. Whether they are Jedi or not is a matter for the Jedi alone to decide.”

These words, perhaps more from their phrasing than their sentiment, caused a stirring of confusion and unease amongst the gathered Jedi. Plainly, this was not what anyone had anticipated.

Tyzen couldn’t help himself. Boldly he stepped forward, raising his hand before calling out.

“Master Corellan! Can’t you just claim the authority to decide the issue?”

Corellan smiled at the questioner, a warm look of recognition catching his eyes.

“Tyzen. It’s been a long time.”

The young Zabrak suddenly felt his face flush, put on the spot amongst the assembled Jedi.

“I’m sorry.” Tyzen looked down at his feet, suddenly feeling younger than his years. It felt like he was a padawan again. “I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

He overheard a handful of chuckles as a ripple of amusement passed through the gathering.

Corellan’s calming smile just widened.

“Of course I remember you, Tyzen. I never forget anyone I’ve called a friend.”

He looked around.

“For the record, that same sentiment applies for all of you. Whether I knew you before you came to Odessen or if I’ve only met you today, as of now, I regard each one of you as a friend. With the trust you’ve offered me, I could do no less.”

Corellan’s hand pressed against his own chest.

“Regardless of what is decided today or how the war goes, each of you has done more than enough to lay claim to my friendship just by being here.”

“But Tyzen’s question actually leads me directly to the third subject I wanted to speak to you about.”

Corellan composed himself somberly. He clearly had their full attention.

“I have long believed that people should be judged not by what they call themselves, but rather their actions; for those are a reflection of who they are.” He began.

“In my mind, this is a simple creed. One that has served me well over the years and that has allowed me to achieve many accomplishments.”

“Since I returned to the galaxy, I have made many difficult decisions, and those have led me to this point. I do not regret most of these, but I have given many hours of reflection to my choices. And I’ve come to acknowledge the implications of those choices, both for myself and for my role as a Jedi.”

Tyzen felt a growing sense of anxiety in his belly.

“To that point, concerning own my path as the Commander of the Alliance, there are things that I realize that I must do.” Corellan glanced downward for a moment, then turned back up. “Things that, in good conscience, I’ve realized that I couldn’t perform as a Jedi.”

A faint breeze swept through the gathering.

“For this reason, and before all of you as witnesses, I formally resign as a member of the Jedi Order.”

If Corellan’s earlier statements had drawn a murmur of a response, this one built up a firestorm. Almost everyone started speaking all at once.

The Alliance Commander patiently waited out the storm. Whatever he called himself, however he saw himself, he was more than capable of facing such adversity with a calmness that would have shamed any Jedi Master.

After about a minute, Corellan again raised a forestalling hand, deftly cutting off further questions.

“I understand your concerns. Let me assure you that I have every hope that the Order will reform itself in time. Indeed, I expect that it will. Whatever mistakes may have been made over its history it remains my belief that the Jedi have – on balance – been a force for good. For order and justice, yes, but also for peace.”

That seemed to calm the emotions of the assembled Jedi. Still, they listened on tensely.

“However, it is clear to me that I am not the one to lead such a reformation, even if I possessed the wisdom to perform such a feat. The Alliance, the galaxy and perhaps the Force itself… well, as I have said, they require me to be someone else. Someone I’m already well on my way to becoming.”

“I can promise you all that I will do everything in my power not to pressure any of you into doing anything to compromise your own values.” Corellan paused. “It is the same promise I make to everyone who will join us. But I’ve seen far too many leaders – including more than one Jedi – attempt to force their own beliefs on those who followed them. In my experience, that’s led to hypocrisy at best, disaster at worst.”

Corellan’s hands spread wide again, emphasizing the gathering.

“I will not force my beliefs on anyone else, least of all any of you.” He concluded. “I will ask that people follow me, and the Alliance will have a set a procedures and protocols, but that will be as far as it goes. While I lead it, this Alliance will reflect my values, not be a reflection of any dogma I may follow.”

Master Dazh Ranos stepped forward.

“Master Corellan… Commander… forgive me, but I must ask. Is it possible that… someone else is influencing this decision?”

Tyzen blinked in alarm. He had heard the rumor that some remnant of the Sith Emperor – that evil called Valkorion by the Zakuulans – now resided within the consciousness of his greatest enemy in Corellan Halcyon.

He’d rejected the rumor at the time he’d heard it out of hand, but now he wondered if there wasn’t some truth in it.

Rather than rebuking the suggestion out of hand, Corellan simply smiled patiently.

“I understand your question, Master Ranos. In point of fact, yes. It is certainly possible that that is the case.” He paused. “But no. I assure you that I have meditated on this matter for some time, and I can confidently tell you that this is my choice, alone.”

A green-skinned Twi’lek Jedi Knight named Shiri’ah stepped forward, drawing the commander’s attention.

“Then… you don’t think you’re becoming a Sith?” she asked.

“No.” Corellan shook his head sharply, letting out a slight chuckle. “I can claim more experience in dealing with the Sith than nearly any Jedi living and I can confidently tell you that my own path does not involve embracing the dark side.”

Tyzen remembered watching the Commander fight those Imperial Commandoes on Tython years before, when they had been about to slaughter Tyzen and a room full of young Padawans. The Hero of Tython had fought with an intensity that might have shamed any Sith.

But… it hadn’t been passionate. In hindsight, it had felt almost detached. As if it had been someone else doing it all.

Somehow, Tyzen sensed that Corellan Halcyon might have spoken more but had thought better of it.

Corellan paused, looking around at any of the faces that still met his.

“As I imagine that some of you may have doubts to that, I would be willing to be examined by any or all of you to confirm it.”

A long moment of silence fell over the gathering as no one volunteered. The crowd of Jedi seemed mollified by his words. Tyzen remembered that surge in the Force when Corellan had first made his presence known; he could not reconcile that with the feeling he had experienced from any Dark-Sider – Sith or Zakuulan – he had encountered.

After a few seconds, the Alliance Commander seemed to accept their reaction as tacit assent.

“So to properly answer Tyzen’s question, this is why I cannot weigh in on the subject of Leeha Narezz and Jomar Chul remaining as part of the Order. As I have, in effect, broken with the Order and the Code, it would be a terrible conflict of interest for me to interfere.”

Choza Raabat steepled his fingers together.

“I must ask, Commander, what if one or more of our number breaks from the order as a branch breaks away from a tree?”

Corellan nodded gravely.

“I understand the concern of a potential schism within the Order, Choza. For the record, I sincerely hope it does not come to that. But if a Jedi serving in the Alliance chooses to leave the Order or is dismissed by whatever leadership structure you form amongst yourselves, then that is the business of the Jedi, and not myself or the Alliance leadership.”

“Likewise, if anyone here believes that remaining with the Alliance would compromise their own values, they are free to leave. I would not begrudge them their beliefs.”

He paused, letting the implications sink in.

“As I said before, the Alliance has its own rules that I ask all its members to follow. So long as an individual is willing to abide by those rules, they will have a place here, regardless of what the call themselves.”

Choza Raabat said nothing to this but bowed his head in acknowledgement after a moment.

So it went.

The Alliance Commander spent another thirty minutes patiently answering questions. Some were quite heated. Others were insightful. Regardless, Corellan answered all of them calmly. Gradually, the questions grew less philosophical and more technical. He had clearly been prepared for this as well.

Tyzen could not have imagined Satele Shan or one of the other Masters on Tython giving the ‘rank and file’ that amount of latitude to challenge them. Yet Corellan Halcyon had withstood it all at his own insistence, holding up stoically.

Finally, after seemingly everyone had had their fill, he adjourned the meeting.

“Thank you all again. I hope my answers have brought a sense of purpose, but barring that, I hope I have brought clarity. The purpose of the Alliance is to defeat the Eternal Empire and bring peace to the galaxy, and as far as I am concerned, it always will be.”  

“I hope you will choose to stay. More than that, though, I hope you will understand and respect my choices. If not today, then in time.”

He crossed his arm across his chest and bowed at the waist.

“Thank you.”

With that, the meeting ended.

As the Jedi began to make their way down the hill and back towards the base, Corellan remained behind, exchanging a few parting words with individuals, most of whom seemed surprisingly optimistic. Despite the difficulties ahead of the Jedi of the Alliance, not to mention the challenge of facing the Eternal Empire, Tyzen somehow didn’t think any of the Jedi would be leaving the Alliance.

The young Zabrak hoped that he would be joining them, soon.

Both in returning to the base and in embracing their apparent sense of optimism.

But first, there was something he had to do.

Finally, he and Corellan were the last two individuals on the hill.

Corellan turned to Tyzen and smiled.

“Somehow, I knew it would be you.”

Tyzen swallowed, approaching the former Jedi Master.

“I was just wondering if I should quit the Jedi, too.”

The older human blinked down at him in confusion.

“Why would you want to do that?”

Tyzen took a deep breath and then he told Corellan everything.

Everything he’d experienced since they’d last met on Tython. About Denielle. About receiving his Knighthood. About the war against Zakuul. About staying behind and continuing to fight in the shadows while most of the surviving Jedi went into exile. About the dark years that followed.

About his fear that the darkness of the war had changed something inside of him.

About fighting for so long and so hard that Tyzen had started to question whether he was still fit to call himself a Jedi.

Corellan merely listened patiently, letting Tyzen get it all off his chest.

“… so now I don’t know if I should leave the Jedi, too.” He concluded.

Having finished, the young Zabrak was surprised to realize that he’d only been talking for about five minutes.

He’d been certain it would have taken hours to relay all his troubles. That they could be summed up so briefly was startling.

Now finished, the young Jedi Knight looked up at the Alliance Commander, hoping for wisdom and guidance. Corellan Halcyon was quietly going over what the younger Zabrak had told him.

After all, he’d been so helpful to him before, back on Tython.

After a long moment, the former Jedi Master exhaled, then spoke.

“That was an awful lot, Tyzen.” Corellan admitted. “I don’t blame you for having doubts, and I doubt anyone else could either.”

He paused, carefully regarding his younger companion.

“You do understand that I can’t tell you what you should do?” Corellan finally said.

Tyzen felt his shoulders drop in disappointment.

“Are you sure? I was hoping you could tell me what I should do next.”

Corellan chuckled, then padded his shoulder affectionately.

“For me, it was different. I had to break from the Jedi. If I hadn’t… well, I’ve seen what happened to Jedi who didn’t know the difference between following the Jedi path and following their own.”

“I couldn’t let that happen with myself.”

The Commander looked up at the sky.

“If I hadn’t made this choice, I think that the conflict within me, the same conflict that lies within all of us… it would have consumed me. Like it did Revan.”

Tyzen blinked, startled at this revelation. He’d heard stories about Yavin from before the invasion. He couldn’t imagine what that had been like for Corellan, and he certainly didn’t want to ask.

“You think you would have fallen to the dark side?”

Corellan tilted his head in assent, giving a sort of half-nod.

“Or worse.”

He then reached out, grasping the Zabrak’s shoulder again and turning him away from the base. Both the uncertain young Jedi and the older Alliance Commander looked out at the horizon.

“Tyzen, during the war against the Sith, I saw so many Jedi doing terrible things in the name of victory, or of the Order, or of the Republic, or in the name of the Force, itself. All while still claiming to be acting as Jedi.”

He stopped and exhaled, his arm dropping back to his side.

“I can’t do that. I had to break free of it, even knowing how badly that’s gone for so many other Jedi. I need to succeed where they failed, and trust that the people around me will help me stay the course.”

Corellan turned towards him again and regarded Tyzen somberly.

“Truly, I do not expect anyone to follow me down such a path. And I certainly have no intention of asking anyone. As a concept, the ‘Grey Jedi’ seem perfectly reasonable. Even admirable.”

He exhaled.

“As a collective group with a collective belief system? Every iteration has ended in disaster. That’s why so many incarnations of it fail, either due to internal or external pressures.”

“So with the Force as my witness, I assure you I have no intention of starting a schism. The Alliance is already too close to being a cult of personality without me making it any worse.”

Tyzen made a face at that observation uncertainly as Corellan just chuckled at his puzzlement.

“Anyway, you’re too young for these kinds of philosophical conversations.”

The Zabrak bristled.

“I’m almost the same age you were when you beat the Emperor’s Voice on Dromund Kaas.”

Corellan stopped himself and looked downward at the grass, letting out a slow exhale, plainly having realized the truth in Tyzen’s statement.

“Well. So that’s what growing old feels like.” The Alliance Commander smiled wryly to himself.

Tyzen felt his face flush, embarrassed to think he might have offended Corellan.

“I’m sorry. I meant – “

“I know what you meant.” He reached out again and patted Tyzen’s shoulder, calmly. “That’s just something everyone has to get used to, I think.”

He turned back to his young companion.

“So. After all that metaphysical discussion, what is it you’re really asking me?” Corellan pressed. “You can say ‘I am a Jedi’ or ‘I am not a Jedi’, and I won’t try to stop you either way.”

The Zabrak bit his lip.

“I guess I’m asking you… who am I?” Tyzen asked.

Corellan smiled at that.

“Who do you want to be?”

The young Zabrak paused. He knew the answer, he’d known the answer for years, but it was still hard to say. Swallowing, he forced the words out.

“I wanted to be you.” Tyzen finally murmured. “For the longest time, more than anything else in the galaxy. I wanted to be just like you.”

Corellan’s eyes widened, truly startled for the first time that Tyzen could remember.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize that you felt that way back then. If I had, I would have said…” he exhaled then spread his arms apart, as if lost. “Something.”

Tyzen bit his tongue and looked away, not trusting himself to speak. He felt himself start to breathe heavily.

Corellan placed a hand on his shoulder.

“For whatever its worth, I looked up to my heroes, too, Tyzen.” he offered. “Sagottoh Panaka. Nowan Ko Detizu. Orgus Din. Satele Shan.” He paused. “Revan.”

A comfortable silence settled in between them. In the distance, some native bird let out a caw, possibly to signal to its fellows that it had found some fresh kill to scavenge and feed upon.  

“Each of my mentors, my heroes… well, they all disappointed me in different ways.” Corellan gazed down at the ground. “It wasn’t their fault, mind you. It’s just that the reality of who they were didn’t quite match my impressions of who they were.”

He shrugged.

“Impressions that might have been fantasies.”

“But I don’t blame them for any of that now. Not anymore, anyway. Our mentors, our heroes, are people, with merits and flaws the same as anyone else.”

“But what’s important was that in the end, I learned from each of them. And with time, I learned to become myself.”

“Now it’s easier in that regard. I’ve learned to respect and appreciate them in a new light. Not as my role-models, but as actual people.”

He stretched his neck. It was a strangely normal thing to do coming from a man who Tyzen regarded as anything but normal.

“Like them, I’m a person. A simple man trying to make his way in the universe. That is all.”

He turned back to Tyzen.

“Did you really think that I would think any less of you? For either going with the others who fled Tython, or finding sanctuary someplace else?”

“I… no.” Tyzen swallowed. He was ashamed. Ashamed for feeling weak. Ashamed for feeling uncertain. “I guess not.”

He looked Corellan Halcyon in the eyes.

“I guess… I was worried that I would think less of myself.”  

Corellan nodded in understanding.

“That’s the first lesson. Now here’s the second: After everything you’ve been through, now that you have a chance to breath, have you been true to yourself, Tyzen?” Corellan asked the young Zabrak. “Have you been true to who you want to be?”

Tyzen opened his mouth to answer, then stopped himself. His old Jedi training started to kick in as he chewed over the Alliance Commander’s query, looking within himself for a sense of peace.

He thought about Denielle, and their painful parting.

He thought about every time he’d had to fight his way out of a dangerous situation in the last six years.

He thought about every night he’d spent on a cold street or cave, with a hunger in his belly.

Finally, he thought about the choice of coming to Odessen to join the Alliance.

“I think I have… in the end.” Tyzen finally answered. “It took me awhile, though.”

“Good.” Corellan smiled. “In the long run, you need to be the kind of person you’d respect, even while recognizing your mistakes. Recognizing the good and the bad.”

He looked down towards the base.

“They come from all over.” He mused. “Republic. Empire. Jedi. Sith. Voss. Independents of every stripe. Even Knights of Zakuul, believe it or not. So many differences! And yet… they keep coming.”

Corellan Halcyon smiled faintly. It was a simple gesture that, to Tyzen, radiated hope.

“With the Alliance, I hope to build a place where everyone who joins us can contribute while still being true to themselves.”

He turned his smile onto Tyzen, a look of hope in his pale blue eyes.

“I look forward to meeting the person you are becoming.”

With that, he turned and began his walk back down to the base.

Tyzen watched him depart in silence.

Tyzen could remember that time – in what felt like a lifetime ago – when he had all but worshipped Corellan Halcyon. When he had wanted nothing more than to be the Hero of Tython.

Now, a little older and a little wiser, he didn’t look at this man that way anymore.

But he respected him, perhaps now more than ever. He realized that here was a man who had made his choices and then accepted the consequences.

Tyzen no longer wanted Corellan’s life.

But he could still continue to learn from that life.

He had learned much from being in the shadow of the Hero of Tython.

As he started walking down the hill, he realized that it was now time for Tyzen Pyne to learn how to be himself.

END

Author’s Notes: Parts of this story probably fall under the ‘Unreliable Narrator’ trope. Tyzen isn’t dishonest, but he doesn’t necessarily see everything clearly. I’ll let you judge what parts those might be.

Tyzen, Corellan, Denielle, Karache, Sagottoh, Nowan Ko, Shiri’ah and Ulannium Kaarz are all original characters of mine. All other characters named in this story are actual NPCs from the game, some of whom are rather obscure. (As is my way.) Feel free to ask me about them or look them up yourself on Wookiepedia, if you like. Shiri’ah was previously introduced in my Adas Legacy, but she now gets a supporting role in my Halcyon Legacy.

There are a number of references in the game story to a Jedi purge of sorts carried out by the Eternal Empire during the five-year jump in Knights of the Fallen Empire. It’s a fascinating subject that hasn’t been fully explored.

Any similarities between Tyzen and a certain red-headed Jedi purge survivor from a recent video game franchise are… purely unintentional.  

The Corellan Halcyon that appears here is one who saw Jaric Kaedan, Nomen Karr and Jun Seros make terrible, tone-deaf decisions during the Second Great Galactic War.

For the record, spoilers here, Ranos and the other Alliance Jedi decide that it is not their place to expel Leeha and Jomar from the Order. By the time the Alliance makes contact with the Jedi on Ossus, no one thinks it’s worth the trouble.

Liam Dentiri, a quest-giver on Tython and a boss in the Assault on Tython Flashpoint, was killed in my canon by Xadya, my bounty hunter in the Halcyon Legacy. Since Xadya would also go on to join the Eternal Alliance, Tyzen may find himself challenged in ways he couldn’t have imagined.   

I’d like to incorporate Tyzen into some future stories, though maybe not as a featured character.

I watched a lot of history documentaries during the pandemic and a few of them involved religious schisms throughout history. I found them both fascinating and somewhat depressing. (Spoilers: When it comes to religion, there are no “good guys”. Just times when one group might be worse than another.) But it got me thinking about the “Grey Jedi” in Star Wars, who are incredibly popular in the fandom, but always seem to come up short.  

I still like the character of Bela Kiwiiks from the Jedi Knight story. I don’t know how many of you ever read the Star Wars: Dark Times comic series from Dark Horse, but her situation in my story is rather similar to Master K'Kruhk’s in that tale. It is well established that the Jedi don’t put all their eggs “in one basket” when it comes to their Padawans and younglings, as they have many enclaves all over the galaxy. Kiwiiks was returning a group of younglings from such an enclave to Tython when she was cutoff by the Eternal Fleet. Deciding that the younglings needed her more than the Ossus Jedi would, she took her charges into hiding, much as K’kruhk does during the time of the Galactic Empire.

Karache’s line to Tyzen is a reference Han’s line on Yavin to Luke in Episode IV. Naturally, Corellan later delivers a line to Tyzen that was directly pulled from Jango Fett in Episode II. I love my little Easter Eggs.

Corellan’s outfit during the events of this chapter is known as the “Ruthless Scion Armor Set” from the Cartel Market. He would later change it again, but this is what he wore for most of Knights of the Fallen Empire and Knights of the Eternal Throne expansions.

I was originally going to mention Ashara Zavros in this piece, but the tangent that summoned got out of hand.

Although I wasn’t reading the Expanded Universe novels at the time, Luke’s speech to the Jedi Order in Dark Nest III: The Swarm War always resonated with me. It’s important for one’s followers to know where their leader stands, and Corellan is attempting to do the same here. (Though obviously, Corellan takes a very different approach.)

Thank you for reading, and may the Force be with you.

Tagging!

@distressed-gizka @rikki-roses @eorzeashan @grandninjamasterren @space-unicorn-dot @mysterious-cuchulainn-x @iacyper9 @sullustangin @stars-ephemeral @taina-eny @brainmonkeyscartwheeling-blog @nebulis-ceartais @raven-of-domain-kwaadthe-raven-of-highever @nekorinnie @fandomfangirl23 @abbee-normal

[respectthepetty]

Peaceful Property's trailer just dropped (THANK GOD!), and I am here once again asking

If not a BL, why the color exchange?!

Home is red. Peach is blue(green, so turquoise really)

And Peach's sister is pink.

(Kan is neutral)

So why is Home wearing blue if he isn't in love with Peach?!

And why is Kan wearing red?!

I will be perfectly fine if there is no romance in this show, but all I'm screaming is the colors mean things!

And if the BL streets were correct that Force and Book were going to be a cameo based solely on arms appearing in a photo in March,

Then I'm just going to sit here in my truth knowing that red + blue

equals purple.