Aiden Porte arrived before the sun fully cleared the low hills, boots damp with dew, cloak catching on the tall grass as he crossed the last stretch of pasture toward the perimeter. He felt the unease long before he saw the black circle, an absence in the Force that did not feel like death, or concealment, or distance.
It felt like a sentence cut short.
The countryside around it was too normal. Birds rose from hedgerows. A breeze moved through the trees. Somewhere far off, a farmer's droid whined as it turned soil. Life continued right up to the edge of the impossible, and then stopped.
The void sat in the ground like a perfect wound: no shimmer, no depth cues, no distortion. Just black. It didn't drink light so much as refuse to acknowledge it.
Aiden slowed at the sensor pylons, taking in the ring of equipment and the line of Jedi at measured intervals. Some stood with eyes half-lidded in meditation. Others watched with the stillness that came from long practice, hands tucked in sleeves, shoulders relaxed, spines straight. He recognized the look behind their calm. It was the look people wore when their instincts had nowhere to land.
He stepped into the calm space the Order always made for itself under pressure, and found it thin here, stretched over something that would not meet them halfway.
He bowed to the senior Master nearest the breach.
"Master."
Her gaze flicked to him. The skin around her eyes was tight with exhaustion.
"Knight Porte."
"I felt it," he said, because it was obvious he had.
"Or… I felt where it wasn't."
"That's the most accurate description anyone's managed," she replied, voice dry.
"We've lowered probes. We've dropped lines. We've sent seeker drones with redundancies that would survive reentry through an atmosphere. Everything goes in. Nothing comes out. No signal. No material. No disturbance."
Aiden's eyes returned to the circle. The edges were unnaturally clean, as if the earth had agreed to stop there. The grass right up to the rim leaned away from it, not in wind, but in quiet submission to a rule it did not understand.
"Lorn and Bastila?" Aiden said softly, as he looked over to the Master with concern. They are friends.
The Master's jaw flexed once.
"Gone. Not dead. Not… anything we can name."
Aiden let his senses open fully, careful and disciplined the way Master
Solenne Abraxas
had taught him. His perception slid across the field. The Jedi around him were bright presences, layered with fatigue and vigilance. The soldiers beyond the pylons were sharp points, alert, nervous, anchored in training and the comfort of orders. The scientists were busy sparks, minds flickering through hypotheses.
And then...nothing.
The Force did not thin. It did not distort. It simply ceased, cleanly, at the void's edge. There was no feedback, no resistance. His awareness did not bounce off it the way it would off cortosis, or a shielding field, or an ancient Sith ward. It just…stopped existing where that circle began.
Aiden withdrew his senses quickly, the way one pulled a hand back from a surface that looked safe but offered no texture at all.
His stomach tightened, not with fear, fear was loud, but with something colder: the suspicion that he was not equipped for the kind of wrongness this represented. A new sound rolled across the pasture then: the descending thrum of transports, the clipped movement of boots, the sharp metal rhythm of a perimeter becoming military.
Aiden watched King Aurelian Veruna approach with the clean confidence of someone used to walking into rooms that changed when he entered them.
"This is no longer a closed spiritual matter."
Aiden didn't move toward him immediately. He watched first, watched the way Jedi shoulders subtly shifted, the way soldiers squared themselves, the way the air tightened with competing authority. He felt the fault line forming...
The void didn't care who claimed jurisdiction.
Aiden stepped forward when the conversation hardened toward confrontation, placing himself not between the King and the Master like a shield, but slightly to the side, an angle that suggested presence without challenge.
"Your Majesty," he said, inclining his head. Respect given without surrender.
Aiden had seen Aurelian in courts, in the controlled theatre of diplomacy. Here, in open field with a piece of the world missing, the King looked more dangerous, not because he carried a weapon, but because he carried certainty like a blade. Aiden did not intend on turning this into a debate, they were to fix the problem together, or not at all. The more time they spent arguing....that was time lost.
"Faith won't map it. Physics won't intimidate it. If we treat this like a debate, it will take more people while we're proving a point." Aiden held his gaze without challenge.
"Two Jedi are already gone. If you send soldiers in to satisfy chain of command, they'll vanish just as cleanly. If you send scientists in because the instruments must have an answer, you'll lose them too."
Aiden looked back at the void. He listened, not for sound, there was none, but for instinct, for the subtle signals his body offered when it knew something before his mind could name it. His skin prickled, as if the air around the circle were slightly wrong in temperature. He noticed how his breathing wanted to shallow near the edge, as if the body itself didn't trust the space.