Private Among the Trees of Paradise

[Lars Tursen]

OKARTHELL

Lars’ shuttle entered the upper atmosphere with little fanfare.
​

The Jedi Knight was on a mission to Okarthell, a jungle world in the Expansion Region just outside the High Republic’s frontiers. A poorly charted planet said to be dominated by primordial natural forces, Okarthell was of interest to the Jedi Order for its potential connection to the Force. With the Order’s resources stretched thin, Lars was left to make the journey on his own.

As Lars’ shuttle began to descend through the clouds of Okarthell, a familiar tingle began in the back of his head. The Living Force called out to him far below, beckoning him toward what was undoubtedly an oasis of life. Shortly afterwards, Lars cleared the cloud layer, allowing for a glimpse of the life below. Flying creatures travelled in clear paths through the sky above a vast, lush jungle that stretched as far as the eye could see over gently rolling hills. For a moment, Lars could only stare at awe at the alien scenery below him.

However, his attention was soon diverted as he felt a strong presence below, focused like a beacon on a single location. It was neither light nor dark, rather, Lars felt as if it was an untapped reservoir of the Force pulsing in a living body. In any likelihood, there was a being in the jungle who possessed a special connection with the Living Force. Lars descended further and slowed down, the shuttle hovering just a few hundred meters above the treeline as he searched for a place to land. There were no clearings anywhere in sight, and Lars left the area to find one, he could lose his awareness of the Force-sensitive presence.

Fortunately, the Kel Dor Jedi had a solution. He reached into himself, where a tree of energy lay dormant. At his urging it sprung to life, spreading his roots and making Lars alive with power. Below his shuttle, the branches of the canopy bent to allow him to safely descend. As Lars passed through the newly formed gap, the branches snapped back into their natural positions above his shuttle. It took only a minute for Lars to complete parting the forest to allow his shuttle to land in the dense underbrush, the trees reforming above him stretching hundreds of meters into the air. Lars opened the shuttle’s hatch, a wave of tropical warm air immediately hitting his skin.

He paused for only a moment before stepping out, following the heartbeat of the Force through the thicket.

Eryndel ​

 

[Eryndel]

Eryndel felt him long before the forest shifted.

It was not the sound of engines or the displacement of air that reached her first, but the change in the Living Force itself. A new rhythm entered Okarthell's endless song, careful and deliberate, like roots pressing into soil that had not yet decided whether to welcome them.

She stood beneath the high canopy, one hand resting against the bark of a towering tree whose roots vanished deep into the earth. The jungle around her responded in subtle ways. Leaves stilled. Insects quieted. The vast, ancient balance of the world leaned inward, attentive.

A walker of the Force, she thought calmly. But not a conqueror.

When the branches far above bent and parted, Eryndel lifted her gaze, emerald eyes following the ripple of intent rather than the craft itself. The forest accepted the shaping, but only just. It allowed the landing the way a great beast allows a touch, aware, measuring.

She exhaled slowly.

"So," she murmured to the trees, to the roots, to the unseen currents that bound them all, "another listener comes."

The presence below sharpened as the shuttle settled. Focused. Curious. Not light. Not dark. Untapped, as the Grove often described such things. A reservoir waiting to learn its own depth.

Eryndel stepped away from the trunk and began to move, her pace unhurried, bare feet silent against loam and fallen leaves. She did not hide her presence. On Okarthell, concealment was unnecessary between those who listened. Instead, she let the Force flow around her naturally, a steady, living signal rather than a challenge.

As she drew closer, she reached out gently, not probing, not intruding, but announcing herself in the way the forest announced rain or dawn.

You are not lost, the current carried. But you are not alone.

When she finally emerged from the greenery, she did not approach directly. She stopped at the edge of the underbrush where light filtered down in long, broken shafts, her silhouette framed by vines and broad leaves.

"Jedi," Eryndel said, her voice calm and resonant, carrying easily through the humid air without force. "You stand on Okarthell, where the Living Force is not observed, but lived."

Her gaze rested on Lars, assessing without judgment. "The forest felt your arrival. It allowed you passage. That is not something it grants lightly."

A pause, then a slight inclination of her head. Respect, not deference.

"I am Eryndel of the Emerald Grove," she continued. "If you have come to listen, you are welcome to walk a little further. If you have come to shape what you do not yet understand…" Her eyes flicked briefly to the towering canopy above, where branches still whispered from his passage. "…then the jungle will teach you patience." She waited, still as the trees themselves, letting Okarthell decide how the meeting would unfold.

Lars Tursen

 

[Lars Tursen]

Lars did not have to travel far before the mysterious presence greeted him.
​

The being was unlike any the Jedi Knight had ever seen, and that was really saying something when even Lars could not identify a species. It mostly resembled a female humanoid, but the horns growing out of her head and her prehensile tail betrayed her as a different species altogether. Despite her youthful appearance, the reservoir of the Force within the being carried with it an ancient weight. Furthermore, she spoke in the calm and practiced manner of a wisened adult, raising the possibility that she may be a member of an exceptionally long-lived species.

Needless to say, Lars was deeply curious about the female being in the forest.

“Greetings, Eryndel.” began Lars. “I am Lars Tursen, a Jedi scholar of the living Force. As you say, I have come to listen to the beat of the living Force. I will follow you where you wish to take me."

So the pair began on their journey, Lars diligently following behind Eryndel.

“You are strong in the Force.” commented Lars. “Yet it lies within you like a valuable gem, raw and without definition. Have you ever received training in the ways of the Force?"

Eryndel

 

[Eryndel]

Eryndel did not slow when he spoke, nor did she look back at once. She continued forward beneath the canopy, moving with the unhurried certainty of someone who knew exactly where each root and low branch lay long before they came into view. Only after several steps did she answer, her voice carrying easily through the layered hush of the jungle.

"No," she said simply.

The word was not defensive. Not dismissive. It was offered as a fact, the same way one might note the direction of the wind or the age of a tree.

She lifted one hand as she walked, brushing her fingers along the broad leaves of a fern. The plant stirred, not bending unnaturally, but responding as if acknowledging a familiar presence. "No Jedi has ever trained me. No temple has ever claimed me. On Okarthell, the Force is not something we are taught to use."

She glanced back at him then, emerald eyes steady, thoughtful rather than proud. "It is something we grow up inside of."

Her tail shifted behind her, careful not to disturb the undergrowth as they passed through a narrow stand of trees. "From the time we hatch, the world speaks to us. The roots, the animals, the storms. We listen because we must. Survival demands it. Balance demands it." A faint, knowing curve touched her mouth. "Those who do not listen…do not last."

They emerged briefly into a small clearing where light filtered down in warm shafts, catching motes of pollen and drifting insects. Eryndel paused there, letting the forest breathe around them.

"What you sense as a reservoir," she continued, "is not discipline left unfinished. It is a restraint learned without words. The Grove teaches patience before it ever teaches strength." Her gaze flicked upward to the towering canopy. "Power here is not sharpened into a blade. It is allowed to root, to spread, to wait."

She turned fully toward him now, her expression open but firm. "I have never been trained to command the Force. Only to live in harmony with it. To heal when it falters. To listen when it aches. To act when it is wounded."

A pause, then gently, "Your ways give shape and language to what you feel. Ours gives silence and context. Neither is wrong."

She inclined her head slightly, inviting but unyielding. "If you walk with me, Lars Tursen, you will see what the Force looks like when it is not divided into light and dark, but allowed to exist as breath, as soil, as life itself."

The jungle stirred again, as if in quiet agreement, and Eryndel turned and continued onward, trusting him to follow if he truly meant what he had said.

Lars Tursen

 

[Lars Tursen]

Lars continued walking beside Eryndel, carefully absorbing every word she spoke.
​

The young woman had a unique philosophy unlike anything Lars had ever learned at the Temples in Courascant or across the High Republic. His inner scholar eagerly processed the new information he was learning, storing it away as if it were a databank. The Kel Dor had heard of a few other ancient cultures who immersed themselves in the Force without the concept of light or dark, but to have such a direct connection to the living Force as Eryndel did was exceedingly rare.

Personally, Lars believed that the Living Force itself was a natural force of light, the natural counterpart to Death as well as the Undeath of forbidden Sith magic. He disagreed with Eryndel that it was inherently neutral, as all life in one form or another lived in harmony with each other in their natural state. Even predators and prey followed an ages-old cycle that ensured neither would ever grow too numerous to sustain themselves. Yet the Jedi Knight had been taught from a young age to respect and give serious thought to all perspectives. Here was no exception.

Lars began to think as Eryndel did, imagining himself inside a reservoir of the Force - the inverse of what he had long been familiar with. Initially, the image struggled to take form, and Lars’ head ached with the effort. Suddenly, there was a shift inside him. The aching in his head came to an abrupt halt as a faint glow settled over his skin, barely noticeable even in the shade of the trees. The forest was undoubtedly aiding him, channeling his focus, and yet...

Rather than its wielder, Lars was now within the Living Force.

“I walk with you, Eryndel."

Eryndel

 

[Eryndel]

Eryndel felt the shift the moment it happened.

It was subtle, not a flare or a surge, but a change in orientation. Like watching someone stop swimming against a current and finally allow themselves to float. The forest noticed too. Leaves stirred where there was no wind. The air seemed to settle more comfortably around Lars's presence, as though something that had been cautious was now… curious.

She slowed her pace, not stopping outright, but easing enough to walk beside him rather than ahead.

For the first time since they had begun, Eryndel turned her head fully toward him.

The faint glow along his skin did not alarm her. It did not feel invasive or disruptive. It felt…tentative. Honest, as the first breath taken underwater, once fear has loosened its grip.

"Yes," she said quietly. Not in agreement, but in recognition. "That is the difference."

Her hand brushed the trunk of a nearby tree as they passed, fingertips resting there for a heartbeat. The bark was warm, alive. "You have spent your life standing before the Force, naming it, shaping it, listening for how it answers." She glanced back at him, emerald eyes calm, attentive. "Just now, you allowed it to hold you instead."

She resumed walking, letting the path narrow naturally, trusting him to follow without needing to be led. "What you feel is not the absence of light," she continued. "Nor the presence of darkness. It belongs. Life does not ask whether it is good or evil before it grows. It simply grows, and balance emerges from the listening."

A pause, then softer, more personal. "Many come to Okarthell seeking power. Some come seeking proof. Very few come willing to be changed."

She did not smile, not quite, but there was warmth in her voice when she spoke again. "You said you walk with me. That is enough. The forest will decide the rest."

Ahead, the canopy thickened, light fracturing into emerald and gold as the land dipped toward the deeper heart of the Grove. The Living Force pulsed there, steady and immense, like a slow, patient breath that had been waiting a very long time to be heard.

Eryndel continued forward, her presence open now, no longer merely guiding but sharing the path.

And this time, the jungle did not just allow Lars to follow.

It welcomed him.

Lars Tursen

 

[Lars Tursen]

“A fascinating philosophy.” remarked Lars.
​

As the Kel Dor Jedi continued after Eryndel, he noticed a subtle presence growing around him. It was not the eyes of forest creatures that gazed upon him, but something far more ancient and formless. It was as if the forest itself was stirring, curious at the alien within its midst. Lars kept his mind calm and grounded, careful not to betray any emotions to either Eryndel or the forest. The Force wrapped around him like an invisible blanket, offering him comfort as he continued into uncharted land.

Here, the forest grew even thicker than it had been where Lars had landed. The foliage of the forest floor grew thicker and more exotic, plants boasting colors that likely had few counterparts anywhere in the known galaxy. Uniform streams of sunlight gave way first to fractured ponds of gold and green, then mere slivers of orange, and eventually no light pierced the canopy at all. Yet the forest floor was not consumed by darkness. In fact, it was far from it.

As far as the eye could see, bioluminescent plants stretched up from the soil in brilliant colors and shapes. Small animals scurried along with them, and they too glowed with natural light around their eyes and tails. Many plants and animals were clustered around tree trunks dozens of meters wide, stretching up for hundreds of meters before vanishing into a void dotted with glowing flowers resembling stars in the cosmos.

“There is a whole different ecosystem here, only a few kilometers from where we began.” muttered Lars. “Plants that have never seen sunlight flourish, and animals have adapted for lives that never leave the forest floor.”

Lars noted that the Living Force was especially concentrated in a winding system of roots, one that twisted and turned in all directions.

“These roots.” continued Lars, pointing at them. “They are unlike the rest. They carry a great presence."

Eryndel ​

 

[Eryndel]

Eryndel slowed as the bioluminescent forest opened before them, her steps becoming reverent rather than cautious. The glow rising from the soil and winding roots painted her features in soft blues and greens, and for a moment, she simply let the place be before she spoke, allowing Lars to feel it without interruption.

"Yes," she said quietly. "You have reached the first breath of the World Tree."

She knelt beside the great roots, resting her palm against their surface. They were warm, faintly pulsing, not with energy forced outward, but with life cycling endlessly through itself. At her touch, the glow along the roots brightened by a shade, responding not to command, but to familiarity.

"These forests grow because of it," Eryndel continued. "Every ecosystem you passed through is shaped by how far its roots reach and how deeply they listen. Sun-fed canopies above. Shadow-fed life below. Nothing here is abandoned. Nothing is wasted."

Her gaze lifted, following the roots upward as they vanished into the vast darkness above, where glowing blossoms marked branches too high to see. "The World Tree is not merely a plant. It is a convergence. A living nexus where the Living Force gathers, settles, and redistributes itself. What the Jedi call a vergence is only the faintest echo of what this place is."

She rose slowly, turning to face Lars. "Those born beneath its reach grow up inside the Force from their first breath. It does not grant power. It teaches restraint. It reminds us that growth without balance becomes decay."

Her expression remained calm, but there was weight in her words now. "That is why Okarthell endures. The Tree does not favor light over shadow, nor life over death. It allows the cycle to remain whole."

Eryndel stepped aside, granting him an unobstructed view of the winding roots. "You sense its presence because it senses you. The World Tree listens to all who approach, but it does not open itself easily."

She inclined her head slightly, voice lowering. "If you wish to walk further, you must do so without expectation. The Tree does not answer questions asked out of curiosity alone."

The forest hummed softly around them, a low, living resonance, as if the planet itself were waiting to see whether Lars would listen… or speak.

Lars Tursen

 

[Lars Tursen]

As Lars listened to Eryndel, he began to pick up on a theme.
​

She had repeatedly encouraged Lars to be changed rather to change his surroundings himself. She also had emphasized the neutrality of the forest, how it was not inherently light or dark and how it seemed to accept guests at its own leisure. His brain put the pieces together from there, coming to the conclusion that the forest was not meant to be studied, but to be experienced. For the forest as well as Eryndel to truly accept Lars, he would have to restrain his insatiable curiosity for knowledge of life, however difficult it may be.

Fortunately, Lars’ teachers had given him the tools he needed to enter a state of true calm, if only temporarily. Taking a deep inhale of air through his mask, the Kel Dor held his breath and reached towards the Force, gently touching its surface. It rippled like the water of a pond, his body relaxing as the sensation of his spirit diffused around him. This time however, with Lars wrapped in a thin layer of the Force itself by the forest, the flow of spirit took on a visual form. The faint glow around him took on a green hue and sparkling pinpricks of blue-green light appeared across his body at random before vanishing just as fast. All the while, his mind was entirely consumed by the spirit, his thoughts and lingering emotions fading away into nothing.

The process lasted only a few seconds before his faintly glowing silhouette sunk back into his body, which automatically let out an exhale. Lars’ brain resumed its thoughts, his focus solely on the woman by his side and the World Tree’s ancient roots ahead. An invisible, barely perceivable link formed between him and Eryndel. His mouth moved to speak, but instead of words, the link connected him directly to the woman’s mind.

I will follow your guidance.

Eryndel

 

[Eryndel]

The moment the link formed, Eryndel felt it.

Not as an intrusion, nor as pressure, but as a quiet opening. Like a door set carefully ajar rather than forced wide. The forest responded at once. The bioluminescent glow along the roots deepened, not brightening so much as settling, as though the land itself had recognized the shift in Lars' posture toward the Living Force.

Eryndel did not turn immediately. She remained facing the vast, winding roots of the World Tree, one hand resting lightly against them. When she answered, she did not speak aloud.

Her voice met him where his words had formed.

You have already begun, she replied, her presence calm and steady, carried not as sound but as intention and warmth. You did not ask the forest to reveal itself. You allowed it to hold you.

A sense of reassurance followed, like deep water that did not pull, only supported.

Curiosity is not a fault, her thought continued. It is a seed. But seeds do not grow when pried open. They grow when the soil is willing.

She turned her head slightly then, just enough for him to feel her attention align fully with his. The faint connection between them strengthened, not tightening, but clarifying.

The World Tree does not demand obedience, she shared. Only honesty. If you listen without reaching, it will show you what you are ready to carry.

Her presence brushed his awareness again, gently grounding, as roots press around stone rather than crushing it.

Walk with me, Eryndel concluded, the thought warm and certain. Not as a student or scholar, but as a fellow listener. The rest will come in its own time.

Around them, the forest breathed as one, the ancient roots humming softly beneath their feet. And for the first time since he had arrived on Okarthell, the jungle did not merely observe Lars Tursen.

It accepted him.

Lars Tursen

 

[Lars Tursen]

Thank you, Eryndel.
​

Lars obediently followed alongside the woman, all the while noticing a subtle shift in the forest. Ever since Lars had linked his mind to that of Eryndel, the forest had grown even more vibrant than it had before. Where before the forest had simply channeled and reformed Lars’ inner Force, it now seemed to both absorb and give, a rhythmic in and out that reminded him of breathing. Perhaps it was the forest itself breathing, and only now that he had embraced its mysteries did it allow itself to be heard.

Lars did not linger on the thought, or any of his other thoughts for that matter. From the moment his shuttle descended below the canopy of the forest, the Kel Dor Jedi had been immersed in a setting unlike any other he had or would ever know. This was not a land to be passively studied, its secrets patiently unearthed and placed in archives to be recalled for eons. Here, life was centered around the experience. Not even the most sophisticated of holocrons could ever describe the way the forest seemed to constantly assess and observe, judging the visitor as much as the visitor judged the forest.

Only by accepting that the mysteries of Okarthell were for only the planet to tell, Lars had realized in his earlier revelation, would the forest truly embrace its guests. While as a scholar, the Kel Dor would likely never be rid of his questions and his immense curiosity, he knew he could temper them to keep secret what the forest wished to preserve. As Eryndel herself mentioned, the seed of curiosity only grows when the soil is willing.

Rather than till the soil in hopes of hastening the seed’s growth, Lars would water the young plant so that it would grow as it did naturally.

Eryndel

 

[Eryndel]

Eryndel felt the forest's answer before she felt Lars' understanding settle.

The rhythm he noticed was real. The slow exchange, the give-and-take that mirrored breath, pulse, tide. Okarthell was no longer merely shaping him. It included him.

She did not correct his thoughts or interrupt their quiet alignment. Instead, she allowed her presence to move alongside his, steady and unhurried, a living reference point rather than a guide that would pull him forward.

When she answered, it was both aloud and within the gentle current they now shared, her words carrying more presence than sound.

"You have learned what many never do," Eryndel said softly. "That the Living Force is not something to be gathered and kept. It is something you step into… and allow to pass through you."

Her hand lifted again to brush the air near one of the vast roots, never quite touching this time. The glow along it pulsed faintly, answering the nearness rather than the contact.

"This forest does not hide its truths," she continued. "It simply refuses to be owned by them. Those who come to catalogue it will leave with fragments. Those who come to listen will leave changed."

She turned her head slightly toward Lars, her emerald eyes calm and unguarded. "You have chosen to water the seed instead of breaking the soil. That choice matters more than you know."

The path ahead narrowed further, roots arching overhead like ribs of living stone. The air grew warmer, heavier with the deep, layered presence of the World Tree drawing closer.

"You may still ask questions," Eryndel added, a faint warmth threading her tone. "Curiosity does not offend this place. Impatience does."

She inclined her head toward the glowing depths ahead, where the forest's breath deepened and slowed.

"Come," she said simply. "The Tree has felt your restraint. It will show you what it is willing to share… no more, and no less."

And as she stepped forward once more, the forest shifted again, not opening a path, but making room. The quiet acknowledgement of a world that had decided Lars Tursen was no longer merely a visitor.

Lars Tursen

 

[Lars Tursen]

Lars followed Eryndel down the forest’s path.
​

He could sense that another shift had happened, coinciding with his decision to water rather than till the seed of the forest. In response, the scenery ahead of them changed. Each individual difference was barely perceivable, but combined they created a smoother, clearer path following the roots of the ancient World Tree.

By his side Eryndel strode with practiced grace, seemingly aware of every root and rock she passed. He felt wisps of the Living Force reach out to her as she passed by certain plants. They remembered her. Lars’ curiosity began to return to him, but he did not fully suppress it as he did before. As Eryndel herself mentioned, curiosity did not offend the forest so long as he made no demands of it. On the contrary, Lars’ curiosity was now increasingly centered on Eryndel herself.

Her variation of humanoid was one the Kel Dor Jedi had never seen before, and her long tail seemed uniquely adapted to forests like those of Okarthell. Her lean figure and familiarity with the forest suggested that she was well-travelled, yet she hardly ever spoke of forces outside the ancient trees. Furthermore, they had yet to encounter any more of her kind. Given that Eryndel seemed far older than she looked, could she be the last of her kind? Or would further details be revealed in time?

All of Lars’ newest questions evaporated as he began to notice a shift not only in the Forest but in the Force itself. Rays of light began to reappear through holes in the canopy and bioluminescent plants gradually vanished from the underbrush. At the same time, Lars felt that they were arriving not at a less dense part of the forest, but the base of something monumental. Why else would the living Force begin pulsing through the Kel Dor’s body like a second heartbeat?

Surely enough, when Lars peeked through one of the larger gaps between the trees, he came face to face with the largest tree he had ever seen.

Its branches alone were several times larger than any of the other trees in the forest, while its the full extent of its trunk was not even visible as its upper half shot above the clouds. Masses of vines kilometers long crept up the trunk and what had to be thousands of smaller branches extending along it. There were no other landmarks even remotely rivaling it as far as the eye could see.

Lars had not seen the massive tree on his descent through the atmosphere. It was a testament to how far the pair had travelled, or perhaps a sign of how long they had walked. To the Kel Dor, it felt as if it had only been a few minutes since he left his shuttle. But he would not be surprised if it had been hours. Time seemed to move at a different pace in the forest.

“The World Tree.” remarked Lars.

Eryndel

 

[Eryndel]

Eryndel stopped at the forest's edge, where the ground dipped, and the roots rose like the bones of the world itself. She did not step forward immediately. This place was not something one approached casually, even for her.

When she spoke, her voice was soft, but it carried easily in the vast stillness beneath the Tree.

"Yes," she said. "The World Tree."

She turned slightly toward Lars then, allowing him to see the reverence in her expression. Not awe. Not fear. Something quieter. Deeper. Like recognition.

"You are among the first outsiders to be brought here," Eryndel continued. "The forest does not guide many who are not born of its roots. Fewer still are allowed to reach this place while fully awake to it."

Her gaze returned to the immense trunk, following the lines of vine and bark upward until they vanished into cloud and light. "I was born not far from here," she added, her tone steady, unembellished. "Within the Tree's reach. Its roots were the first things I learned to walk across. Its presence was the first thing I learned to listen to."

She stepped forward now, placing her palm gently against one of the great surface roots. The Living Force surged in response, not dramatically, but familiarly, like a heartbeat quickening at the sound of a known voice.

"This is not a monument," Eryndel said. "It is not a relic, nor a source to be drawn from. It is a living convergence. A keeper of memory, balance, and passage. Every forest on Okarthell grows because this one listens first."

She glanced back at Lars, emerald eyes calm, searching. "To be brought here is not a reward. It is a responsibility. The Tree does not ask what you believe, only whether you will remain honest with what it shows you."

The air seemed to thicken around them, warm and alive, as if the world itself leaned closer.

"If you wish, you may step nearer," Eryndel said quietly. "But do not reach. Let it decide how close you are meant to be."

She moved aside, giving him space, and waited as she always had.

For the Tree. For the forest. And now, for him.

Lars Tursen

 

[Lars Tursen]

Lars stood before the World Tree, and everything seemed to go still.
​

The rustling of the leaves in the wind, the noises of scurrying animals, even the sound of his own breathing faded away into nothing. The tree consumed his vision, and there was nothing but the tree, its endless, timeless roots, and the dirt in which they lay. Lars reached down towards the nearest root, one hand outstretched to touch it. The closer he drew to the root, the stronger the Living Force pulsed around him. The tree had to be a Force nexus - there was no other explanation for the profound pull it had on the Kel Dor Jedi. Yet unlike all the other nexuses Lars had explored, this one carried neither kindness nor malice. It was simply the Force itself in a concentrated, powerful form.

Lars’ palm at last made gentle contact with the root, which slowly warmed under his touch until it matched the heat of his own skin.

Visitor.

A voice that resembled his own but was not his spoke to him. All sensation in Lars’ body moved towards his head, his body fixed in place.

You are not of this world.

I am not.

What do you seek?

What you will offer.

Come closer.

Lars was released from his trance, his senses returning to him. His hand left the exposed root, a shallow mark in the shape of his palm left behind. This was the destination that the Kel Dor had come to Okarthell to see. From the moment he entered the atmosphere, he had been subtly pulled in this direction. Eryndel had been his guide, and now it was within sight. His next course of action was obvious.

Lars walked forward.

Eryndel

 

[Eryndel]

Eryndel felt the moment the World Tree turned its awareness toward him.

The forest did not react with spectacle. There was no surge of power or dramatic shift in the air. Instead, everything seemed to settle, as if the land itself had chosen stillness so it could listen more closely.

She watched Lars take his step forward, her posture calm and rooted, her attention held not on the man alone but on the space he now occupied. The faint imprint of his hand upon the root was already fading, the living bark reclaiming itself without haste or judgment.

"You were heard," Eryndel said quietly, her voice careful not to intrude upon the moment. "That is all that has happened. No more. No less."

She moved closer, though she stopped well short of the great roots. This was not a place she entered lightly, nor one she would guide another through once the Tree itself had begun to speak.

"What you felt was recognition," she continued. "Not invitation. Not command. The Tree acknowledges those who arrive without demanding answers. It listens first, as it listened to you."

Her emerald eyes rested on Lars, steady and thoughtful. "Do not try to interpret it too quickly. The World Tree does not reveal meaning all at once. It allows understanding to grow in its own time."

She inclined her head slightly, a gesture of respect rather than ceremony. "Walk if you feel drawn to walk. Stop if you need to. There is no test here, and no expectation placed upon you."

The forest remained quiet around them, attentive but unpressing.

Eryndel stayed where she was, neither urging him forward nor calling him back, content to remain a witness rather than an interpreter.

Some things, she knew, were meant to be experienced before they were ever explained.

Lars Tursen

 

[Lars Tursen]

Eryndel’s voice briefly drew Lars’ focus back from where he had come.
​

He paused, turning his body to fully face the mysterious woman who had brought him here. Though she seemed to be sending him off, Lars had a feeling that the two were not done with each other yet. The connection the Kel Dor Jedi had felt between himself and Eryndel was no ordinary reaction to a Force-sensitive being. It reminded him of how he had felt as a young Padawan living alongside his former Masters, their experiences intimately intertwined. It was far too early to draw conclusions, but Lars could not doubt that he had been brought to this planet before this woman for a higher reason.

“The Force has intertwined our paths.” declared Lars. “Soon, we will meet again.”

The Kel Dor turned away from Eryndel one last time, facing the World Tree as it loomed ahead. Using the winding root as his guide, Lars continued through the thicket. As he walked closer to the tree, he began gaining elevation - slowly at first, but the slope rapidly steepened until he found himself at the edge of a sheer cliff. The ancient tree’s root shot straight up the cliff wall, which rose around eight meters above the surrounding forest before leveling off into a small plateau encircling the enormous trunk. Channeling the Force into his arms and legs, Lars leapt forwards several meters into the air, wrapping his arms and legs around the root. It held firm, and Lars used it as a winding ladder to climb the rest of the way up the cliff.

Clambering over the top of the cliff, Lars found himself on a grassy plateau utterly devoid of trees except for the one around twenty meters ahead that dwarfed everything around it. The Kel Dor noticed that the root that had guided him here led straight to an opening within the trunk, diving inside into the darkness within. Deep down, Lars knew where the hollow led. This was his destination.

Lars entered the cavelike opening in the trunk, the air almost instantly cooling around him. The path continued straight ahead and slightly downhill, becoming increasingly dark as the Kel Dor descended into the depths of the tree. He reached for his lightsaber, igniting it to allow its green hue to light the way forwards. For several minutes, Lars descended in silence and near-total darkness, the pulsing of the Living Force around him growing steadily stronger. Just as the tree’s pulse grew so violent that Lars was on the verge of collapsing, the Force grew silent.

The tunnel opened up into a large hollow, lit at random intervals by glowing violet and azure flowers. At the center of the chamber was a perfectly round stump of wood several meters in diameter. Suddenly, Lars’ feet were not his own, propelling him towards the wooden circle. He found himself standing at the very center of the stump, taking a seat atop the wooden circle.

Closing his eyes, Lars allowed himself to meditate upon the scenery.

Eryndel

 

[Eryndel]

The moment Lars' breathing slowed into stillness, the hollow began to change.

Not with sudden displacement or illusion, but with a gradual loosening of boundaries, as though the chamber itself had exhaled and allowed its form to soften. The walls of wood and stone did not vanish, nor did the glowing flowers dim, yet the meaning of the space shifted, and with it Lars' sense of where his body ended and the Living Force began. The distinction thinned until it no longer felt necessary.

The stump beneath him warmed, its surface no longer hard and ancient, but pliant and alive beneath his weight.

Then it was soil.

Lars found himself standing barefoot upon rich, dark earth, the texture of it pressing between his toes, layered with centuries of fallen leaves, roots, decay, and renewal. Each stratum carried memory, not as images but as sensation, a gentle hum of persistence that pulsed upward through his legs and settled into his chest. When he inhaled, he tasted rain that had not yet fallen, sunlight filtered through high leaves, and the distant musk of animals moving unseen through the undergrowth.

He was no longer alone.

Life moved around him without urgency or fear. Kiir children darted between roots thicker than starship hulls, laughing as they climbed, slipped, and leapt from branch to branch, their tails flicking instinctively for balance. Elders watched from woven platforms and living limbs, their presence neither controlling nor absent, intervening only when danger grew real. There were no walls here, no separation between shelter and world, no sense that nature was something to be managed rather than shared.

Lars felt a deep, unshakable sense of belonging settle into him, not claimed but granted.

Time shifted without warning or announcement.

The children were older now, their movements surer, their laughter tempered by experience. Some bore scars earned during hunts, worn without shame. Others carried baskets of gathered fruit and softly glowing fungi, exchanging stories instead of goods, memory instead of coin. Disagreements arose and faded like summer storms, resolved not through authority or decree, but through listening, patience, and the willingness to remain present long enough to understand.

Death came as well, but never alone.

It arrived wrapped in ritual and shared grief, bodies returned to the soil beneath the World Tree's vast roots so that nothing was ever truly lost. Even endings were woven into continuity, another turn of the cycle rather than a rupture within it.

Within the vision, Lars changed.

He was no longer a distant observer standing apart from the world he studied. He moved with them, climbed alongside them, learned and failed and rested as they did. His connection to the Force was no longer something he reached for or shaped with conscious intent. It was simply there, as natural as breath, as constant as blood moving through his veins. When he stumbled, the world steadied him without judgment. When anger flared, the forest reflected it back to him until he understood its root. When healing came, it was not power flowing outward, but alignment settling inward, a quiet return to balance.

This was what it meant to live inside the Force.

There was no light to uphold, no darkness to resist, no doctrine to defend. Balance was maintained not through vigilance or struggle, but through attention, humility, and care extended moment by moment.

The vision shifted once more, slower now, gentler.

He stood within a dwelling grown rather than built, living branches bent and coaxed into shelter over time. He felt the quiet weight of responsibility, not imposed by rank or title, but born of trust freely given. A hand found his, steady and familiar, its presence anchoring rather than overshadowing. Someone stood beside him, not as a guide or subordinate, but as an equal participant in the rhythm of this life.

He did not see her face clearly.

The vision softened further, like dusk settling through the canopy, sounds dimming, scents fading, warmth lingering long after detail slipped away. Slowly, insistently, the Living Force withdrew just enough to allow memory to return, to remind him of who and where he was.

Lars opened his eyes.

He was seated once more upon the ancient wooden stump, violet and azure flowers glowing quietly around the chamber. His lightsaber lay untouched at his side, forgotten during the experience. The Force no longer roared within him, but pulsed calmly, like a heart at rest.

The World Tree had not spoken in words.

It had shown him what it meant to belong without possession, to serve without command, and to exist not with the Force as a tool or guide, but within it as a living participant.

And somewhere far above, beneath layers of canopy, roots, and living sky, another presence remained quietly aware of him. Not calling. Not pulling. Simply waiting.

Lars Tursen