Gavin was not entirely sure how to handle the situation he found himself in. The large brute sat across from the boy in silence, his dark eyes fixed on him, studying him carefully. There was no aggression in his stare, only curiosity and something faintly reflective. The boy could not have been older than sixteen, maybe seventeen, with a hardened look in his eyes that reminded Gavin far too much of his own.
He remembered.
He remembered the restless energy that once tore through his body, the way the Force had flooded him like a violent storm with no direction. He had been untrained and wild, a weapon without a wielder. That was before Kor’ethyr Academy, before the Diarchy, before Reign had found him and given him a reason to channel all that destruction into purpose. Where once his power had been a tidal wave crashing without restraint, now it was calm water, controlled, focused, and still.
He had felt the boy’s presence long before he had laid eyes on him. During the purge of Harridan’s criminal syndicates, Gavin had swept through the Ravagers like a storm. It was there, in the chaos and fire, that he had sensed something different. A flicker of power. Untamed. Raw. The boy’s Force signature pulsed like a heartbeat out of sync with the world around him. He was no soldier. Not yet. But there was potential, the same kind that Reign had once seen in Gavin himself.
Now the two sat in the back of a heavy transport rumbling through the streets of Harridan, its armor still scarred from battle. The glow of the city lights slipped through the slats of the viewports, painting brief streaks of gold across Gavin’s features as he finally spoke.
“We can turn you into something you never thought possible,” Gavin said, his deep voice filling the space between them. He didn’t raise it. He didn’t need to. Every word carried the weight of certainty.
“Just like me. I was a wanderer with no clear direction. Now I am a warrior with a purpose.”
His tone was calm, deliberate. Gone were the impulsive bursts of arrogance and aggression that had once defined him. Reign had taught him the value of control, of using his voice as precisely as his blade. The boy needed to hear conviction, not threat.
Gavin studied the young man again as the transport jolted over uneven ground. The boy’s eyes had something in them. The was fire. Defiance. That, Gavin could work with.
“You remind me of myself,” he said after a pause, quieter this time.
“I didn’t believe I could be anything more than a brute with a death wish. But Reign showed me that even brutes can be forged for something greater.”
The vehicle shook as it crossed into the fortified district, the lights of Diarchy banners glinting through the dust. Gavin leaned back slightly, still watching the boy.
“If you want to live for something more than survival,” he added,
“then this is where it begins.”
In his chest, he felt the faint hum of pride. Reign had once extended a hand to him. Now Gavin was doing the same.
Veyran Solis
Diarch Reign
Gavin Vel
