Private Between The Hammer and The Anvil

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

Varin stood within the forge, the very heat from the furnaces and the flames from within was enough to drive any normal person to a sweat. Such is the price of a trade. The sweat of ones brow to cool the meta and the iron within their blood to forge an extension of themselves. Varin’s hand gently ran over the surface of the small blade he had just finished shaping, its bright orange glow sizzling against his flesh, but the very heat in his own body only burned hotter than the blade itself warranting no harm to him.

His hand gripped the tang on the back side, and then he slowly bent over to dunk the heated metal in the oil to quench. The liquid bubbled and hissed from the heat and the scent of hot oil filled the room. Varin’s runes along his back and torso pulsed like the heart of the forge itself as he quietly continued on the small project.

Laying the blade down onto his metal work table he looked back at the small forge nearby. Crystal seeds sat upon the stone floor, misshapen and broken. His failed attempts at creating the Floralite Rose for Seren that he kept to remind him of the hardships to come and the ones that had passed.

His bootfalls echoed around the room as he passed by dangling chains that were used to hold up tools, then stopped by the small anvil. His gaze lingered on the many attempts for a long while, silent and looking inward towards himself. Reflection.

He knelt down and plucked one of the seeds, its crystal surface still holding a faint shimmer within the firelight. His fingers gently rotated it within his grasp before he closed his eyes, a small breath leaving him as he felt his fingers give way to nothing but crystal dust. The seed had disintegrated within his gentle grip. The fragility displayed before him. A small sigh left him as he stood back up.

Acier Moonbound | Lysander von Ascania | Seren Gwyn​

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: [Redacted]

Equipment:
Apprentice Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

Ace didn't announce himself immediately. He simply stood within the threshold of the forge, still beneath the hanging chains and the pulsing furnace light, watching.

The heat pressed against his skin almost instantly. It was both dense and suffocating, heat settling into his lungs with every breath. Ace barely reacted to it outwardly. His attention stayed fixed on Varin instead, cataloguing everything.

The forge. The unfinished blade. The glowing runes along his back pulsing like veins beneath stone. The crystal fragments scattered across the floor. The way Varin handled molten metal without hesitation, without even instinctive caution.

People respected heat because their bodies forced them to, but Varin moved like he belonged inside it. Which, after seeing what the man was capable of, was technically true.

Ace's eyes narrowed slightly as the other man picked up one of the crystal seeds. He watched the movement carefully, not because it looked dangerous, but because of how deliberate it suddenly became. Slower than everything else Varin had done since entering the room.

Then the seed collapsed, crystal dust slipping through Varin's fingers and disappearing into the forge floor. Ace's gaze followed it downward briefly before lifting back to him again.

Silence lingered for a moment beneath the crackling firelight.

"Why did that happen?" His voice cut through the room calmly.

Ace stepped further inside now as his eyes drifted toward the remaining crystal seeds scattered near the anvil. Then his gaze shifted back toward Varin.

"You weren't gripping it hard."

The observation came without accusation. If anything, it sounded analytical. Genuine. Ace understood force, pressure and precision, and yet the seed had still broken apart like it had been held by something far heavier than fingers alone.

The forge hissed behind Varin while Ace studied him quietly again, expression unreadable beneath the warm orange glow.

Varin Mortifer | Lysander von Ascania | Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren stood several paces deeper within the forge, half-veiled by the shifting furnace light and the heavy, hanging silhouettes of tools and chains. Unlike Ace, she had long since surrendered any attempt to remain untouched by the oppressive environment, allowing the dense warmth to gather against her skin, thread through the weave of her robes, and illuminate the strands of her dark hair in muted bronze beneath the rhythmic pulsing of the forge glow. From the very moment she had entered the room, her attention had remained fixed upon the crystal seeds scattered near the base of the anvil. not out of casual curiosity, but with a careful, deliberate focus born of immediate recognition. She knew exactly what those fragments were supposed to become, because one of them rested far from this floor of discarded failures, safely nestled within a carefully maintained stone planter in her home on Malachor, where, against all probable odds, it had survived.

Her glowing amber eyes traced the fine crystal dust as it slipped entirely through Varin's fingers before she finally stepped closer, her gaze lingering briefly on the ruined remains scattered across the stone floor. When she finally looked up at Varin, there was no trace of judgment or disappointment in her expression, carrying only a quiet, grounded understanding of the exhausting patience his craft demanded.

"You kept them," she observed softly, her voice carrying a thoughtful weight through the heat of the room. It was a subtle realization; where most people would have eventually swept away the broken experiments and waste material, he had left them exactly where he could still see them and choosing to learn from them, to remember the effort, and to let the hardships of the past inform whatever was yet to come.

A subtle warmth entered her voice then, enough to soften the intense glare of the furnace reflecting in her eyes as she spoke of what lay beyond the forge. "The one you gave me survived, and it actually flowered months ago. The petals eventually settled into a deep amber that shifts almost to gold near the center when the light catches them properly, yet the crystal itself still holds that same dark, foundational shimmer the seed had been black beneath the surface with faint specks scattered through the structure like stars caught against a night sky. It suited the garden on Malachor far more naturally than I initially expected."

The descriptive words lingered softly in the heat-filled space before her attention shifted fully back toward the heart of the forge itself, surveying the tools, the pulsing molten metal, and the sheer discipline required to shape such fragile things from force and fire.

"I came here because I wanted to learn how to forge them as well, though I am fully aware that succeeding even a single time may be entirely unlikely," she admitted calmly, a faint breath of dry amusement escaping her a moment later to puncture the heavy solemnity of the room. "Fortunately, I was trained by Jedi Masters, so repeated failure accompanied by a healthy dose of philosophical suffering is practically familiar territory for me."

Acier Moonbound Varin Mortifer Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Varin Mortifer Acier Moonbound Seren Gwyn​

‘Twas not the first time to enter a forge; he remembered it in ways a serpent might when slithering back into a Dark cavern. Lysander hadn’t stepped inside one since Deservero, that first baptism of steel and fire, when Nightstar was nothing more than a blade brought to life through sweat. This one was different; mayhaps more of a sanctuary, where kin may reveal personal fires in solidarity.

Near the threshold, the heat rolled over him; never in discomfort. For a long while he just stood there, shoulders loosening, allowing the light to paint him in those shifting golds and reds. And maybe it was then Lysander didn’t realize how tightly he’d been holding himself recently, until the warmth began to unwind him. From Byss, to Brentaal IV, Zardossa Stix, the Covenant’s demands were relentless. The emissary was truly but a leaf in a storm, yanked in every direction, through new arenas of intrigue and false smiles.

So, it was nice to slow down.. if only for a day.

Another deep inhalation, and heat filled the blonde’s lungs like an omen. Twin shards of greenfire followed Varin’s movements, which danced with a fire’s heart, glowing like the core of a living star. Different, of course here, rather than other Sith, for those who knew the man, also understood he was fire incarnate.

Lysander’s thoughts too mulled on that of a pugilist, and how they were alone for thousands of hours in their journey, just to perfect that one movement. Grueling indeed.. but necessary. Wasn’t the pursuit of anything truly worthwhile always like this? While his brother may have not achieved the desired result, he noted it as just another small sacrifice that often predated excellence.

Acier’s words broke the forge’s spell first, and shortly after arrived Seren’s.

“There’s a reason dragons shed their first scales in fire is transformation. What you’re doing here feels the same, brother. Doesn't really matter if you get this right on the first try, or the tenth." One shard was nudged with the toe of his boot. "It's smart to keep the broken bits, too. Reminds you that even the strongest things must break sometimes, even if it hurts." The craft wasn’t what mattered; not giving up and walking away from it was. “Either way, I'm pretty sure all of us here will stand with you until the forge goes cold today." A shoulder lifted in an unbothered shrug. "If you were slipping, I'd tell you."

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

Varin's gaze flicked to Acier, a rare occasion that he was caught remotely off guard. Most of his focus having been on his past projects and reflection.

He asked him why the seed had disintegrated like that. Varin stood up to face him, his voice quiet.

“The result of a rushed job, or a sloppy one. When you put so much into something that can only bear so much.”

When Seren approached, something within him had softened. She had recognized what it was that laid at the base of the anvil, how fragile it could be without the proper precautions.

Something in his eyes seemed to light up as she described what color her Rose took. A symbolism of what he had poured into it. Days in front of the heat and molten crystal he had spent to get that final shape. To hear it had finally bloomed into something so beautiful and fitting, it brought a sense of satisfaction to him.

“So the roots took.”

His voice was soft, thoughtful in a sense. A tone that likely Acier had never heard from him.

When she said she wanted to learn to forge, Varin's gaze sharpened. A request from her that he did not think she fully understood.

“It is a grueling process. One that requires everything from you. Focus, time, energy, thought, emotion.“

Love

The last word echoed in his head, not giving him the chance to speak it, but it caused him to change how he viewed her request.

Varin's gaze then looked towards Lysander who had just shown up as well. Three people Varin had put more trust into than most anyone else. Acier was still new to him, but anyone who was willing to stop and walk with him up stairs he had struggled against would earn something from him.

Lysander drew a smirk from Varin after he finished.

“These scales are forged from something different than just change and strength.”

He looked back down at the small seeds of crystal.

“These are a tradition from my home.”

He looked back at Acier.

“Floralite Seeds. You asked why that one simply turned to dust, the answer is not so simple, but I will try to explain.”

He gently picked up another Seed, its shimming luster dulled by cracks and imperfect indentations, and offered it to his hand.

“These represent the fragile nature of bonds. Bonds between two beings that have been fated together. Both partners pour everything they have to strengthen it, but sometimes…”

The Seed within Acier's hand cracked and fell to pieces within his open palm, a faint breeze barely enough to count as a breath was enough to sunder the small object.

“...bonds can still break over the smallest of things.”

He paused, his gaze held on the pieces that laid in his hand, almost in a sense of mourning.

“But, if you can craft a perfect Seed, it will hold. Your partner must grow it just like a flower. But instead of water and sun, they pour everything into its care just as the forging process. The seed can still fail…but if the seed blooms, it becomes something strong. Only shattering upon the forger's death.”

He looked over to Seren.

“It is a heavy burden to craft, but it can turn into something that is a part of you and your partner.”

Then softer, his voice barely a whisper as his hand placed over the anvil.

"It beckons you to break."

Acier Moonbound | Seren Gwyn | Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: [Redacted]

Equipment:
Apprentice Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

Ace exhaled slowly through his nose in quiet frustration. He had asked a fairly straightforward question about structural failure and somehow ended up standing in the middle of what sounded increasingly like a meditation on suffering, transformation, love, and dragons. Honestly, with this group, it was getting difficult to tell where normal conversation ended and philosophy began.

Despite himself, he still listened carefully. Seren understood the seeds immediately. More than that, she understood why Varin had kept the failures instead of discarding them. Ace hadn't thought much of the scattered fragments at first beyond evidence of repeated attempts, but now that she mentioned it, leaving them there did feel intentional. Like reminders. Or warnings.

Lysander's contribution felt more predictable somehow. Transformation through fire. Endurance through hardship. Breaking as part of becoming stronger. That sounded much more like the version of the galaxy Ace had grown used to surviving in. Still, neither of them were wrong he supposed.

Then Varin finally answered him directly. Ace's eyes shifted back toward the larger man immediately, the annoyance fading into focus again as he listened. More specifically, he noted the tone. Softer and quieter than before, there was weight behind it now that he wasn't used to.

Ace accepted the offered seed carefully into his palm, lowering his gaze toward it while Varin continued explaining.

Bonds between two beings fated together. At first, his thoughts drifted instinctively toward Fatine. The way she smiled at him, the warmth in her voice, how easy things felt around her before the rest of the galaxy inevitably found a way to complicate it. For a brief moment, the forge around him faded slightly beneath the thought.

Then the seed cracked, before it collapsed apart against his palm just as Varin spoke of bonds breaking over the smallest things. Something cold twisted low in Ace's stomach. The idea of losing her hit him far harder than expected. Sharp enough that it almost made him feel physically ill for half a second.

His fingers closed slowly into a fist around the ruined fragments. Ace stayed quiet, listening to the rest of the explanation. The notion of both people continually pouring themselves into something fragile enough to still fail despite all that effort sat heavier with him than he wanted to admit.

Especially lately. Especially now. Ace's eyes lingered briefly on the anvil after Varin finished speaking. Then finally lifted back toward him again.

"...Can you show me how to make one?"

The question came quieter. Then his gaze flicked sideways toward Lysander for barely a second. He gave the blonde a small, controlled, but very clear look that said:

Don't say anything.

Because Ace already knew Lysander was smart enough to connect the dots immediately after that question. And while Varin already seemed partially aware there was someone occupying Ace's thoughts lately, Seren did not.

And Ace intended to keep it that way. The fewer people who knew about Fatine, the safer she stayed.

Varin Mortifer | Seren Gwyn | Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren remained quiet while Varin spoke, the forge light flickering across her features as she listened to him explain the seeds properly for the first time. Though she already understood parts of the tradition through her own experience, hearing it spoken aloud carried a different kind of weight as she stood, surrounded by the discarded failures he had chosen to keep rather than hide away.

When the seed collapsed within Ace's hand, her glowing amber eyes drifted briefly toward him, noticing the subtle shift that always occurs when something personal stops being theoretical and suddenly becomes real enough to hurt. She recognized the look immediately, but she chose not to pry, keeping her questions to herself. Instead, her attention lowered toward the crystal fragments scattered across the forge floor as Varin spoke of bonds, burdens, and the inevitability of breaking.

"Most meaningful things do," she murmured quietly, almost more to herself than anyone else, as the whisper of it beckons you to break lingered heavily beneath the roar of the forge. "That does not necessarily make them mistakes."

The intense warmth from the forge rolled around them while chains shifted softly overhead, casting molten light across the crystal dust on the stone floor just before Ace asked if Varin could show him how to make one. Seren's eyes lifted toward him again, calm and unreadable, harboring only a quiet recognition that the question mattered far more than he likely intended it to sound. The controlled look he shot at Lysander did not escape her either, though she very politely pretended not to notice.

Turning the dark crystal seed slowly within her palm, her gaze drifted back toward Varin, the faint warmth in her expression softening beneath the forge light. "You should probably listen carefully if he agrees," she said simply, gesturing slightly toward the failed seeds scattered near the anvil before looking back at Ace. "I only have one because he refused to give up on making it work, and that level of stubbornness seems entirely important to the process."

Varin Mortifer Acier Moonbound Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Varin Mortifer Acier Moonbound Seren Gwyn​

An instinctive sweep fell over the room. Navigating chambers full of Sith as an emissary meant gauging other temperatures that had nothing to do with a forge's fire. Eyes soon settled back on Varin, because the man's presence demanded such. From experience, he only talked about home when something mattered. Lysander learned this the same way one learns the patterns and habits of a sparring partner.. through repetition, bruises, and those little post training reflections when truths surfaced.

Closing the distance by a few steps, his voice softened, and still warm. "Tell me what these seeds really mean then." Intrusive questions had never been his style, at least not toward those within his trusted circle.

He heard Ace before he saw him. Then the question. And then the unmistakable glance.

Ah. That glance.

Lysander's head shifted just enough to meet it. Crafting something meaningful required patience. More importantly, it required someone worthy of dedication. And Ace.. well, the pieces slid into place fast enough that the blonde almost laughed.

A smirk lifted one corner of the mouth northward. "Mm," came a conspiratorial murmur. "Careful. Asking to learn this is how it all starts."

And Bogan above, what a futile warning. It was like cautioning someone about a cliff he'd already swan dived off.. straight into the rocks below. Resisting the urge to rub his face, a weary sigh was swallowed. If there was a remedy or some magical elixir that existed for being a hopeless loser, he'd never found it. Maybe the entire room was on the same sinking boat.

Attention drifted to Seren. Memories flickered of a Life Day event on Eshan. Covenant duties had kept him moving too fast to understand. Varin's partner better, but he'd seen enough to know she was more honest and observant than most Sith. Qualities he personally deemed dangerous.

"Something tells me the first person to coax this Floralite into blooming will be you," said with a small smile.

Finally, back to Varin. There was an ache of something else that'd been sidestepped. The Sith's voice dipped low in admission. "The truth is, brother, I need one of these just as badly."

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

Three paths had their own journey and converged here, at this very moment. It could have been any other time but it was now. A breath left his chest like a soft quiet laugh as his hand rested over his temple.

It was not annoyance or irritation. Something had clicked within his head. The Force always had a funny way of bringing people together. Truthfully he was happy they all came to him during his small moment of reflection and vulnerability.

They all wished to learn to forge a seed.

Varin took a deep breath before he spoke.

“I can teach you how, but I cannot do it for you. That is all up to you and your partner that you forge this seed for. You are the start of the process, the foundation. A foundation must be strong and sure.”

He stepped away from the forge his hands folded behind his back.

“Don't answer this question outbound, think on it and answer it yourself as you forge. The seed will tell you if it is enough.”

He paused before the question left his lips.

“What would you sacrifice for them? Would you give parts of yourself? Your desires? Your dreams? Your life? For them?”

He looked over to Seren, his eyes deep with a serious tone.

“For you, I have a second question. Two roses, yet when one dies one of those roses will stand alone in silence. Are you willing to let the Floralite suffer through that time of isolation?”

His breath swallowed before he continued.

“Two roses are exceptionally rare, but it can hold twice the pain of loneliness when one of us eventually falls.”

He looked over to Lysander and Acier.

“Will your partners have the strength to continue the burden that you started?”

He slowly walked past the chains that hung above him, reaching upwards his fingers gripped a wooden handle, a small hammer one that seemed insignificant to the others that forged weapons and armor.

A hammer of precision and shape.

Yet the experiences it whispered from its surface was more harsh than the others. For it had experienced the worst of every man and woman that had used it for this craft.

“Think of these questions as you hammer yourself into this seed, as you burn and shatter. As the seed becomes you.”

Acier Moonbound | Seren Gwyn | Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: [Redacted]

Equipment:
Apprentice Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

Ace's attention shifted briefly toward Seren as she spoke, her calm suggestion carrying an almost understated certainty to it. His expression didn't change much, but the look alone answered for him. Of course he would.

Truthfully, Ace still wasn't entirely sure what to make of her yet. Seren didn't move through conversations the way most Sith did. There was no posturing in her. No sharpened arrogance waiting beneath every sentence. Just observation and awareness. It made her harder to read than the others somehow.

Then Lysander spoke. Ace's eyes slid sideways immediately at the teasing murmur and the faintest flicker of annoyance crossed his face before he rolled his eyes outright.

"Shut up, Golden Boy." He muttered defensively.

Still, he wasn't surprised Lysander wanted one too. Honestly, hearing it out loud only confirmed suspicions Ace already had. The man practically radiated emotionally compromised decisions at this point.

When Varin agreed to show them, Ace's gaze returned toward him fully and the questions that followed reached deeper than he expected.

“What would you sacrifice for them? Would you give parts of yourself? Your desires? Your dreams? Your life? For them?”

The words lingered heavily beneath the roar of the forge. Ace didn't answer aloud, instead, the answer surfaced instinctively within him with enough certainty to unsettle even himself.

He'd sacrifice everything. His future. His identity. Pieces of himself. Whatever was necessary. If it meant keeping the people he loved safe, Ace already knew he would let himself burn for it without hesitation. The frightening part wasn't the realization itself.

It was how easy the answer came now.

His eyes drifted briefly toward Lysander then, thoughtful now beneath the forge light. Curious. Would he do the same? Ace didn't ask.

Silence settled again while Varin addressed Seren, Ace watching the exchange quietly from where he stood. The mention of loneliness and one half remaining behind lingered unpleasantly in the air afterward, heavier than the heat surrounding them.

Then Varin's attention returned toward himself and Lysander and the question that followed made Ace's focus falter. Jedha surfaced immediately. The Kyber Heart and the visions, or apparitions, that followed. Fatine standing there within the Force like something soft and impossibly real amongst all the ruin and prophecy wrapped around him.

Could she? Could she carry on the burden?

Ace exhaled slowly through his nose before pushing the question aside for now. There wasn't an answer waiting for him yet. Maybe there never would be.

Without another word, he stepped toward the forge instead. His gloves tightened faintly as he gathered the tools and materials Varin had prepared, movements controlled and deliberate beneath the molten glow surrounding them. The chains overhead shifted softly while heat rolled across the chamber in waves.

Then Ace finally settled into place before the anvil.

Varin Mortifer | Seren Gwyn | Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren remained quiet as the conversation unfolded around the forge, the heat from the furnaces rolling through the chamber in steady waves, with firelight dancing across steel, crystal, and stone. Her attention rarely drifted far from Varin as he spoke. There was a noticeable difference whenever the subject turned toward his home, his family, or traditions that mattered deeply to him. The change was subtle, but once recognized it became impossible to miss.

Lysander's confidence that she would be the first among them to coax a Floralite into bloom drew the faintest hint of amusement to her expression.

"You have considerably more faith in me than I do," she replied softly, though the warmth beneath the words suggested she appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.

Then Varin began asking his questions.

The atmosphere within the forge shifted almost immediately. What had begun as curiosity and instruction slowly became something far more personal, and Seren found herself listening rather than preparing a response. The questions did not feel rhetorical. They felt like challenges meant to be carried into the work itself.

What would you sacrifice? The answer arrived before she could truly consider the question.

It was not because it sounded noble, nor because it was the answer she believed Varin wanted to hear. The simple truth was that she had already crossed that bridge. When he had been taken, she had never once paused to measure what recovering him might cost her. She had crossed the galaxy, walked willingly into danger, and accepted possibilities she had no desire to face because leaving him behind had never felt like an option.

There had been fear. She would be lying to herself if she pretended otherwise. There had been uncertainty as well, especially during the long stretches when they did not know whether they were already too late. Yet neither emotion had ever been strong enough to outweigh the certainty that she had to try.

The second question settled more heavily. Two roses. One eventually left standing alone.

Seren's gaze lowered briefly toward the scattered crystal fragments around the forge floor. She understood the pain hidden within that possibility immediately, not because she feared loneliness, but because imagining a future where Varin no longer existed within it felt profoundly wrong.

Yet even then her answer remained unchanged.

If she had been given the choice beforehand, knowing every risk, every fear, and every inevitable grief waiting at the end of such a bond, she still would have accepted the seed.

She still would have nurtured it. She still would have chosen him. Some things were worth the possibility of loss. Some things were worth carrying even when the burden was heavy. Varin was one of them.

Around her, the others wrestled with their own answers. Ace moved toward the anvil while Lysander watched with the quiet understanding of someone who had already reached conclusions of his own. Seren noticed the brief look exchanged between them, just as she noticed Ace's attempt to discourage whatever observations Lysander had made, but she left it entirely alone. Everyone standing in the forge had arrived there for their own reasons, and some realizations deserved privacy until their owners were ready to share them.

Eventually, her attention returned fully to Varin.

The hammer rested in his hand. The failed seeds remained scattered around the anvil as reminders of the cost of learning this craft, and for the first time, Seren understood why he had kept them.

A faint smile touched her lips.

"You make it sound less like forging a crystal and more like forging a piece of yourself," she said quietly. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment before she continued. "Though, knowing you, perhaps those are the same thing."

Lysander von Ascania Varin Mortifer Acier Moonbound

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Varin Mortifer Acier Moonbound Seren Gwyn​

The forge was a living, breathing a gullet of fire, and the heat was no longer just warming the room; nay, it was peeling layers and interrogating his composure. It hummed against the blonde's pores. Those of practiced indifference and regal posture.. like molten wax drooping from a candle. At least, that's how it felt for the Emissary began to feel in his own skin. Had it been among a group he didn't care much for, perhaps he might've even found such exposure mildly offensive.

Acier spoke, and Lysander offered nothing more than a tilt of the lips. He just saw the deflection for exactly what it was, just as he saw the truth of his own state: a hopeless loser raised on too many HoloDramas and old Ukatian fairytales.

Lysander should've loathed the transparency of it, the way his thoughts threaten to spill across his face for anyone with the gall to look closely. Varin’s words bit deep. Truth was, there was one that he was already bleeding out pieces for, giving them silence, his focus, instinct, carving himself into smaller, more consumable shapes.. all without ever naming the cost.. it'd come naturally, really.

He thought of her. The magnetic north that held his world in stasis even when the galaxy threatened to tear things, ever since Desevro. Strange, almost, to think that planet was kinder to them, more than he ever dared admit. Memories too glowed with a kindness of which he lacked courage to knowledge. What is just a haunting and nothing more? Perhaps, the intimacy was so profound it required no proximity. Or it could've just been a piece of theater performed for himself that the lines were blurring..

He tried to imagine a single bloom in a field of frost, the last survivor of a season that'd long since surrendered to the wind. A second spine found itself constructed within the Sith, entirely of grief. To be the one left behind, to be a walking mausoleum for all that he might fail to endure.. was a terrible blow that should've bent him toward the floor.

Doubt had never been a frequent visitor for the Emissary; yet as the forge painted orange arcs, once more he caught the broken glass.. and couldn't help but wonder if it represented broken promises. So, when he finally stepped forth, it was with the acceptance of man ready to commit in full to this test.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber


Varin watched as Acier and Lysander both stepped up to their positions, ready to continue. Varin knew, they had accepted their sacrifices that they were about to pour into these small fragile objects.


After Seren spoke of the process like forging another part of himself he simply smiled. It was soft, but a knowing one. One that conveyed the very process they were all about to walk into.


“It is almost like that entirely.”


He spoke quietly before he walked around the forge as everyone took their positions. The oppressive heat battering down on all four of them. It was constant and unrelenting. But it too had a purpose.


As did the flames.


Passion, persistence and change. All revolving around them. It was part of the process.


At each anvil Varin gently placed at their center a small blackened round stone. Something that did not represent a crystal whatsoever. It looked like an insignificant and unimpressive piece of stone.


Varin was quiet for a moment before he continued.


“Before you is the starting process. This is Floralite. Unrefined, unshared. Raw.”


His words echoed before them as his arms folded behind his back.


“It starts off as something cold, something stubborn and unassuming.”


He gently picked up his hammer, laying it atop the small stone on his anvil.


“You will all fail…at first. You cannot just slam your hammer upon the element with all of your strength, nor can you go easy on it. Do not be frightened of failure."


The weight of his hammer gently pressed onto the small rock, a small pop and crack, before he lifted it back up to reveal a small pile of rock dust.


“It needs heat in order to mold, flexibility in order to endure.”


He looked into the fires of the forge before them, before he picked up a small set of tongs, gently grabbing the rock and holding it into the flame.


“Passion moves stagnation.”

Lysander von Ascania | Acier Moonbound | Seren Gwyn​

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: [Redacted]

Equipment:
Apprentice Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

Ace's attention followed every movement Varin made. The placement of the hammer. The pressure. The crack of stone breaking apart into dust. Failure.

The sight of the ruined Floralite didn't bother him in the slightest. Failure had never been unfamiliar territory. He'd learned that long before he'd ever touched a lightsaber. And beyond that: every fight he'd lost, every mistake he'd made, every person he'd failed to save, and every lesson learned the hard way. Failure wasn't something to fear. It was part of the process.

The strongest parts of him had been built on top of failures he hadn't been allowed to walk away from.

His gaze shifted down to the small black stone resting at the center of his anvil. Cold, unassuming, and stubborn. At first glance it looked like nothing, yet that was how most important things started.

His eyes lingered on it as Varin spoke about passion and change. Against his better judgment, his thoughts drifted elsewhere. To Ukatis. To theaters and cafés, to scarf-covered smiles and sharp brown eyes. Fatine.

The realization still felt strange when he allowed himself to look directly at it. For most of his life he'd never really had the luxury of caring about someone that way. He'd learned early not to get attached to things. The galaxy had reinforced the lesson often enough afterward.

People left. People died. People disappointed you. Yet somehow she'd slipped through every defense without trying.

A faint breath escaped him. Somewhere along the line she'd become one of the few things that felt unquestionably good. One of the few things he wanted to protect.

Ace reached for the tongs and the Floralite clicked softly between the metal grips. Following Varin's example, he extended it into the forge's heat. Orange light washed across his face as the flames curled around the stone.

“Passion moves stagnation.”

He watched the Floralite carefully as it sat within the fire. For once, he didn't try to force the process or rush ahead, nor did he attempt to overpower it. He simply waited. Listened. And waited for further instruction.

Varin Mortifer | Seren Gwyn | Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren moved to the final anvil in silence, taking her place opposite the others while the forge breathed heat around them. The temperature would have been uncomfortable for most people, and surrounded by flame and molten metal, sweat was to be expected. Instead, she found herself oddly calm. Perhaps it was because she trusted the man teaching them, or perhaps it was because she already understood that this was not truly a lesson about crystals. It was a lesson about people.

Her amber eyes followed Varin as he moved between the anvils, placing a rough piece of Floralite before each of them. At first glance, the stone seemed entirely unremarkable: dark, plain, and easily overlooked. Yet she suspected that was part of the point, as most meaningful things began not as masterpieces or legends, but simply as possibilities. Resting her hands lightly against the edge of the anvil while listening, she noted Varin's description of the element. Cold. Stubborn. Unassuming. The traits fit the stone well enough, but they also fit more than a few people she knew.

When the first piece shattered beneath Varin's demonstration, Seren did not flinch. Failure had never frightened her; it often disappointed and frustrated her, but fear was something else entirely. She had failed repeatedly before, and she knew most worthwhile pursuits demanded it. Her gaze drifted briefly toward the others as they settled into the process, noting how Ace watched with focused intensity while Lysander stood quieter than usual, his thoughts likely far louder than his expression suggested.

When her attention returned to Varin, his words lingered: Passion moves stagnation. Seren reached for the tongs, carefully clamping the tool around the Floralite to lift it from the anvil. Even without touching its surface, she could look at its stark, unyielding blackness and know it was still entirely raw, unchanged by the surrounding heat. She lowered the stone into the forge, watching orange light dance across her features as the flames curled around it. Resisting the temptation to rush ahead or force progress before the material was ready, she drew on the patience the floralite bloom had already taught her, standing quietly beside the fire as she waited for the next lesson.

Acier Moonbound Varin Mortifer Lysander von Ascania

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber​

Varin watched as each of them followed suit in his instruction. To carefully move the Floralite Seed into the flame. He gave them all a moment to reflect on what it was that crept within their thoughts, their feelings and their emotions. Not one of them seemed to be afraid of failure.

Good. That was the first lesson of this. And it was only going to get harder.

“The stone will match the intensity of the flame. The hues of transformation and heat.”

He walked by each furnace as he spoke, even the chains above them seemed to be silent as he did so, recognition that what these three were soon to endure would be vastly difficult without the proper guiding hand. A role that even Varin himself did not know if he was capable of as of yet.

“When the color matches that of flame, when the stone whispers to you that it is time to endure, pluck it out. Lay it upon the forge before you bare. Look upon the truths it reveals of yourself.”

He stopped standing in the center of the room, his eyes trailing over each one of them.

“Know that though you have impurities the best way to remove them is to force it out.”

His gaze fell to their hammers.

“Drive it out with each strike. Start gradual until it is flexible, then begin to shape it into what you see it is meant to be. What you are meant to be.”

The beginning of the process always started with self reflection. Facing yourself to see if you are truly what the person needs, and if that wasn’t the case, if you could forge yourself anew.

Seren Gwyn | Acier Moonbound | Lysander von Ascania​