Private Exposure

[Darth Prazutis]

Odessen, The Valley...
Aftermath of the Great Purge

There was a time when He would've jumped at the opportunity to hurt Allyson Locke . To pull apart the life of who was the greatest Jedi Shadow ever produced by the Jedi Order. An elusive ghost whose life was shrouded in secrecy, buried beneath the scars of galactic wars she'd fought from a tender young age who had become a persistent threat. Yet it was always finding her that was the problem she slipped right through, there was nothing tangible to grab onto. Perhaps rudimentary involvement with Corellia, but that wasn't one of the weak points everyone possessed. Everyone had weak points in their lives: Family, children, people that meant everything to them, and attachment meant weakness to be exploited. Corellia wasn't that kind of weakness it wasn't the kind intertwined into ones very being, woven into the fabric of our existence. It wasn't the sort of weakness that shattered the whole when it was ripped away. For a long time, rumors were abound that the Corellian had no weak points. That she was a scion of war with no family, brought into the Jedi Order from a young age and subsumed into the secretive world of Jedi Shadows. It never stopped the Lord of Lies. A dossier with her name on it had only grown with every passing year as His intelligence networks moved tirelessly to acquire Him concrete information that could be of use someday.​

​

Until the day when Allyson Locke herself walked through the doors and provided a clue to the question He'd been asking for a long time. Not only did she do it willingly, but she also freely offered it. But she'd done something that greatly surprised the Mortarch, for this clue she was willing to consign every Shadow of the New Jedi Order to oblivion in order to protect it. "Her name...is Taiia Mataan. She lives in a temple on the world of Odessen. If I give this to you. The Kainate uses its position to ensure Odessen is not to be touched, and no harm is to come to her." A name plucked out of the sea of trillions, a world drawn from the ocean of planets. A simple price to condemn your former subordinates, to condemn the New Jedi Order to extinction. A simple price but one that caught the giant by surprise, but one that they paid, nonetheless. The Jedi Shadows died a screaming, bloody death across known space by blaster, blade, saber, and bare hands. Most of them never saw their killers coming and those who'd afforded the chance to react? They didn't survive very long. Safehouses, Hidden enclaves, everywhere they could feel safe and recover, it all burned. The whole network was consumed in the cascading cataclysm of the Kainate, and everyone connected to the dossiers they'd received died. Entire families were butchered, collaborators who'd helped keep the Jedi safe found their lives destroyed before the end.​

​

But for the Shadow Hand of the Kainate, the Dark Lord of the Sith? Odessen loomed on His mind. Varnyx Prowlers were sent to scan the world from a safe distance, probes carefully placed not to attract attention but to gather as much information about the fertile, humid, jungle world. The name of Taiia Mataan was drawn from every database that the Kainate could get its hands on, artificial intelligence screened the name thousands of times to pull any and all information they could of the one opening into the life of the Ghost that was Allyson Locke. There was a time that He would've brought the Shadow Armada to Odessen. A time when He would've locked down the system and unfolded an entire task force to destroy everything. To push the mysterious figure out and then burn the whole world behind her to draw her in. To use her to draw Allyson Locke out and finally put an end to the figure who'd done more damage to Sith regimes than any other. Instead? Peace continued on Odessen. The Kainate quietly observed from a distance drawing in data in volumes, learning all it could and filtering the information into a briefing the Dark Lord constantly received. ​

​

Until one day everything changed. ​

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It didn't come in the form of fleets, armies, or assassins emerging to reap the souls of all who lived on the surface. Instead, it came in the form of a single Kharvoss Shuttle in the crown configuration. A vessel of black iron veined in crimson energy, carved with runework it seemed to drink in the light and radiate darkness. There was no doubt who the vessel belonged to simply by gazing on its surface and seeing the crimson glass. For a shuttle it was surprisingly well armed, but none of its weapon systems were active. The vessel emerged from hyperspace well within scanner range of any ground installations and carefully descended through the atmosphere of the jungle world. It cut downward at a pace slow enough not to come across as urgent, but purposeful to anyone observing the craft cut through the skyline. It descended towards a particular valley surrounded by mountains, forked by rivers where a large compound sat in the very center, surrounded by a large wall of worked stone, reinforced by durasteel ribbing with expanded watch platforms. It was the kind of work a trained soldier saw to in its conception to provide defenders with whatever they'd need. A narrow road ran right into the mouth of the compounds main gate, running straight through to the temple at the center of a large village. ​

​

Life scans of the valley had shown substantial read outs many hidden through the jungle canopy, it was among the greater concentrations of life on the rural world. Looks could be deceiving. The compound was carefully placed in a location where numbers would count for nothing. There weren't any viable landing points in the valleys jungles as it stood, the only approach was through the narrow pass. It posed a living nightmare from a tactical standpoint as it currently was. It would take substantial transformation to take the odds out of the hands of defenders. The jungles would have to both be burned and flattened before anyone could even think about landing inside. Someone carefully designed this place and had the resources to ensure everything was built to last, to withstand the chaos of the turbulent galaxy. The Sith Shuttle descended towards the widest portion of the main road, a section where it widened into a small rest area for those taking a pilgrimage to the temple. It touched down with the soft crunch, and hydraulic hiss of deployed landing gear, its wings shifting into place while a ramp descended from the mouth of the vessel, a crimson light spilling out from within.​

​

Odessen felt Him long before He emerged. The sheer storm of dark energy that poured from Him was a flood, a hurricane, an endless abyss, it was akin to the event horizon of a black hole. Such was His presence that around Him the darkness seemed to take root even in the light of day, as He stepped from the mouth of the shuttle. He stood clad in layered black Sith robes reinforced with hidden Shikkari death weave, the fabric threaded with dark crimson and ancient gold that catches the light like smoldering embers. A massive high-collared mantle of blackened scalework drapes across His shoulders, etched with faint Sith glyphs that seem to drink in the surrounding light while a heavy shadowcloak trails behind Him like living darkness. His molten crimson eyes burn from beneath the darkness of the hood. A lightsaber sat clipped to His side it wasn't kept hidden, it was visible but placed in a position that seemed normal if it were needed, its surface pulsed with runes. Behind him stood a small squad of Imperial Crownguard accompanied by a single Umbral Guard. They didn't follow the Dark Lord as He stepped forward and took in the world, instead remaining within the shuttle as instructed. They were here purely to ensure the vessel remained unmolested, and ready for when His business was done.​

​

The Dark Lord swept His gaze across the valley, drinking in every detail as He silently observed the walls before Him. ​

Taiia Mataan​

 

[Taiia Mataan]

//: Darth Prazutis //:​

The valley had felt the intruder long before the first sensors confirmed the vessel's approach.

Odessen itself seemed to recoil around the presence moving through hyperspace toward the world. The jungle canopy stirred uneasily beneath gathering winds, birds scattering from the trees in great dark flocks while the Force rippled through the valley like the distant pressure wave before a storm. By the time the Kharvoss shuttle pierced the atmosphere, every layer of the academy's defenses was already awake.

Deep beneath the mountains surrounding the valley, far below the riverbeds and ancient stone foundations, the command center had come alive in disciplined silence. Holographic displays bathed the subterranean chamber in pale blue and crimson light as sensor telemetry streamed across tactical tables. The valley itself had never truly been undefended. Mandalorian coverts were hidden throughout the jungle approaches, concealed within cliff faces, river hollows, and fortified positions buried beneath the canopy. Anti-air emplacements rested dormant beneath layers of camouflaged stonework while reconnaissance teams tracked the shuttle's descent from multiple angles, feeding information into the command center below.

The Force around the shuttle felt like an open wound. Some of the younger students had already been quietly moved deeper into the compound while senior instructors maintained calm across the academy grounds. No alarms rang. No panic spread through the village. The academy had been built for moments like this. Calm and order remained intact even as preparations for war quietly settled into place.

Along the walls, armored Mandalorians took position without ceremony. Helmets turned skyward as the black vessel descended through the clouds. Sniper teams settled into elevated nests overlooking the pass while shield generators hidden within the mountains slowly powered toward standby readiness. If violence came, the valley would become a killing field within seconds.

Far above the command center and hidden defenses, Taiia sat within her office near the highest levels of the temple, overlooking the valley below. The room itself was warm despite the tension threading through the Force around her, lined with old books, datacrons, and scattered fragments of a lifetime spent gathering knowledge from every corner of the galaxy. Soft morning light filtered through wide windows overlooking the converging rivers beneath the mountains.

She had felt Him the moment He entered the system.

Even now, the pressure of His presence pressed against the world like an abyss given form, vast and terrible in ways few beings could truly comprehend. Another person might have mistaken it for simple rage or darkness. Taiia understood better. There was intelligence inside that storm. Restraint. Purpose. Which made it far more dangerous.

She rose immediately, drawing the forest green cloak across her shoulders with practiced ease as she moved to meet him. The pressure of the Dark Lord's presence spread through the valley, and fear began to ripple naturally among the younger students. Lessons faltered. Conversations quieted. Some looked toward the mountains as though instinct alone warned them something terrible had arrived on Odessen.

Then Taiia reached outward through the Force. Gently, like a warm blanket in winter. Her battle meditation spread through the temple and village alike, weaving itself through frightened thoughts and tightening nerves with practiced care. The fear did not vanish entirely; instead, it became manageable. Breath slowed. Hearts steadied. Panic lost its grip.

To the students, it felt like the sudden certainty that they were not alone. Senior instructors felt it immediately, the familiar presence of their Headmistress settling across the academy like a protective hand upon their shoulders. Mandalorians standing watch along the walls straightened subtly beneath its influence, their focus sharpening as anxiety gave way to discipline and clarity. Even the jungle itself seemed calmer beneath the reach of her will.

She did not make him wait long; eventually, the doors parted, and a single figure emerged, silver robes, delicate and intricate, reflected the afternoon light. The green cloak rested on her shoulders, hood down as the Eldorai woman appeared at last. "Welcome to Odessen, my lord. While outsiders are welcome, few arrive with such a hostile presence. I trust you will forgive the precautions." She approached without hesitation, pausing a few feet from him at a respectable distance. She had been around enough Sith in her time to know weakness was not respected, but disrespect was equally not tolerated.


​

 

[Darth Prazutis]

The very moment the Once Sith Emperor walked the earth it plunged the valley into the deepest depths of the Dark Side. He could feel it at work, worming its way through the populace infecting everything like a virus looking for its next victim. In its wake it brought concern, uncertainty, fear in its rawest form spread among them. Not one soul had experienced anything akin to what it felt like to stand near the Mouth of Ruin. The deeper such fear spread the more power it gave way to the darkness, and the greater His power swelled. The Dark Lord drew in everything they'd felt, drinking it in and converting it into the immeasurable power at His command. Uncertainty. It was among the greatest strengths He'd become known for. The Lord of Lies who always left others guessing, uncertain as to where they stood in His eyes. Even the closest allies never quite knew, only what He would afford them to think. To assume it was attachment would be a mistake for even if those with familial bonds had ceased their use, they could find their own existence swiftly cut short. Even the jungle itself seemed to react to the darkness spread in His wake, like He was an open wound in the fabric of the force. The Dark Lord savored it as his eyes catalogued every detail they caught. The stiffness of Mandalorian defenders, drawn from the complacency of peace and pulled into the throes of a situation they hadn't expected. The predators in the jungles that were drawn to the dark powers, while those who were pushed away from it.

Everything abruptly changed then.

It wasn't the obvious beacon of light, the avatar of hope that the likes of Jedi often presented themselves as. It wasn't a courageous wave to push fear away. Instead it came with a soothing current. It was like a cool rain on a hot summers day to drown out the burning heat and humidity. Currents through the force reverberated through wood, durasteel, stone, and earth itself. They swept outward from the temple like the tides of the ocean pushing across the rivers and into the surrounding areas, meeting the Dark Side with serenity. Its effect was slow, careful. Concerns subsided, fears pushed down, it brought the heightened emotion down and sharpened it into focus. It was the kind of touch an encouraging, beloved authority figure had when you knew you had their support every step of the way. It helped quell the chaos like a worked blade driven into waters to quench its heated surface. Even the jungle seemed grateful for the protective embrace, encouraged despite such danger to stand taller. That was when the doors of the compound finally opened with a groan of gears and industrial machinery. They slide open with all the heft of reinforced metal designed to withstand the violence of warfare. While one might've expected an entourage of Mandalorians or Students to greet the coming abyss, instead something else emerged alone.

A figure lithe in form, with all the grace of a dancer and a calm presence that was reassuring instead of off putting. Pointed ears emerged from red hair that fell in a braid down her shoulders. A green cloak sat positioned over elegant silver robes. She was delicate in appearance but that was all part of the deception at work, only a fool would take it at face value. There was deep control beneath that form, agility that could blind and an athletic body that could cut the life short of those who cross her path, making assumptions of someone like that? It would be the first and last thing you would ever do. The way the walked it was if she was gliding down the road towards Him, there was inherent beauty in the purposeful nature of every footfall. There was no doubt she was the Headmistress of the Temple, Caretaker of the Valley. Only one with such devotion and care would emerge alone in the face of such darkness. For every observation there was no reaction on the face of the Dark Lord as He watched her close the distance. The precautions, the state of alarm none of it concerned the Shadow Hand. If violence were the intent then the approach would've reflected such, but the opportunity for such a thing was always possible in His very form, it was death incarnate, such was the Dark Titan. His molten gaze fell heavy on the woman as her words fell in greeting.

"You must be Taiia Mataan. Your home is…remarkable. You clearly care deeply about this place." Prazutis paused, every word chosen carefully. That was perhaps worse somehow, even devoid of threats. His gaze sweeping across the flowing river. "You have nothing to fear. I have not come to reap Odessen."

Taiia Mataan​

 

[Taiia Mataan]

//: Darth Prazutis //:​

Taiia felt the weight of his gaze settle upon her like a mountain pressing against the valley itself, ancient and immense in ways few beings could truly comprehend. The Dark Side coiled around him so completely that it no longer resembled emotion or corruption alone. It felt elemental. A force of nature sharpened into thought and given purpose.

And yet, she did not recoil from it.

Her battle meditation continued to move quietly through the valley behind her, steady currents of calm threading through frightened minds while the darkness pressed against them like deep water against stone. The contrast between them could not have been more different. His presence consumed. Hers endured.

When he spoke her name, Taiia inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment, green eyes remaining fixed on the molten gaze behind the mask of the Dark Lord. "You have traveled a very long way to arrive at a place no one seeks, one could infer, knowing my name, you came seeking me," she replied calmly. There was no challenge in the words, only observation. At the mention of the valley, her gaze drifted briefly toward the converging rivers below, toward the distant rooftops of the village tucked safely behind stone walls and jungle canopy. For a moment, something softer touched her expression, subtle enough that another might have missed it entirely.

"I do care for it," she admitted quietly. "Because so many people have entrusted pieces of their lives to it, to me. I do not take the responsibility lightly." Her eyes returned to him then, steady and composed beneath the afternoon light. "Students. Families. Wanderers who needed somewhere the galaxy would stop demanding things from them for a little while. They are dear to me, and I will keep them from harm." The way she stated it was subtle, a promise that she would defend her people, but beneath that a warning.

The jungle stirred around them as wind moved through the trees, though whether it reacted to the Dark Lord or the tension hanging across the valley itself was difficult to say. When he assured her he had not come to reap Odessen, Taiia studied him silently for several long moments. Not suspiciously, nor naïvely trusting either. Simply weighing the truth of the words against the immense presence standing before her.

"I am relieved to hear that, but you mistake prudence with fear; a lamb may not fear a lion when it is sated, but a lowered guard when the lion may grow hungry is foolish," she said at last, and then, after a brief pause, the corner of her mouth softened ever so slightly. She shifted then, silver robes catching softly in the breeze as she stepped aside just enough to open the path toward the temple behind her without fully turning her back to him. Respect without carelessness. "You carry enough presence to make even the jungle nervous, my lord," Taiia said, faint warmth threading through the words despite the tension surrounding them. "It would have been irresponsible of me not to take precautions. But I assure you, the valley will remain on alert. Now, I would be a poor host if I required you to remain outside the walls."

For all the abyssal darkness surrounding him, Taiia's own presence remained remarkably unchanged. calm and grounded, not resistant in the way Jedi often were when facing the Dark Side, nor submissive in the presence of overwhelming power. She simply stood before him as though she had accepted long ago that fear alone could not guide every decision.

"If your intentions are peaceful," she continued softly, "then you are welcome here. At least long enough for tea."

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[Darth Prazutis]

Smart.

It was clear as the Headmistress continued to speak how smart she truly was, how she could swiftly think on her feet despite being surprised and show little for it. So often confidence bordered on arrogance in thinking one was infallible, but that wasn't the case here. The Eldorai spoke more without actually saying anything, and it came in how carefully her trained eyes studied His every move. Even now He could feel her searching for clarity, observing for more through acute understanding of what she was facing. Despite the approach He took here, it would've been naive to assume danger didn't shroud the Dark Lord of the Sith like a cloak. To assume an apex predator wouldn't bear its claws would be the last mistake anyone ever made, especially around the Lord of Lies. "Prudence is not fear." He said at last, His voice low and measured. "You are correct." The admission came without reluctance, and somehow that made it feel heavier. "A lamb that survives the lion does not do so by convincing itself the lion has become gentle. It survives by understanding the nature of teeth." ​

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The Dark Lord's gaze shifted past her, toward the walls, the village beyond, the hidden defenders, the students whose fear still lingered beneath the careful warmth of her meditation. It was as if His very sight could pierce through walls, and see what concealed itself within. The valley breathed around them, steadied by her will, but not blind to His presence. "You have built something rare here. Not merely a temple, or a sanctuary. A place where frightened lives have been taught to stop fleeing long enough to become whole again." His eyes returned to her. "That is not weakness." A pause. "It is leverage." The word was soft, almost conversational, but it carried the cold honesty of a knife set upon a table. Prazutis stepped forward only when she made room for Him, accepting the offered path without rushing to take advantage of it. The darkness around Him moved with Him, not as an uncontrolled tide, but as a mantle drawn close around a sovereign. He did not look like a guest, He looked like a catastrophe that had agreed, for the moment, to observe etiquette.​

"Tea, then." The faintest curve touched the corner of His mouth. "How civilized." There was almost humor there. Almost. He walked at her side rather than behind her, granting enough respect to acknowledge her as mistress of the valley, but not enough to diminish Himself within it. His gaze passed over stone, jungle, wall, and temple with the patient scrutiny of a man who had once imagined how such a place might be broken and had since decided, for reasons of His own, not to issue the command. "You are wise to keep the valley alert. I would think less of you if you did not." His voice lowered slightly. "Peace is only meaningful when it understands what waits beyond its walls." For a few steps, He said nothing more. The sound of the river filled the space between them, joined by the distant movement of the jungle and the subtle mechanical awareness of defenders trying not to seem as though they were watching a Dark Lord of the Sith walk through their home.​

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Then the Shadow Hand spoke again: "I did come seeking you." Simple but deliberate words. "Not Odessen. Not your students. Not the Mandalorians tracking me from within the trees. You." His molten gaze remained ahead for a moment before turning back towards her. "Your name was given to me." A silence fllowed, heavy enough to pull breath from the air. "Willingly." He let that word settle. "I am curious as to why. So I have come seeking understanding." ​

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Taiia Mataan​

 

[Taiia Mataan]

//: Darth Prazutis //:​

Taiia listened quietly as they walked along the road, side by side, the valley continuing around them despite the enormity of the presence moving through it. Rivers flowed between stone banks worn smooth by centuries. Students gradually returned to lessons beneath the reassuring currents of her battle meditation. Somewhere deeper within the jungle, creatures that had fled the Dark Lord's arrival slowly began to emerge again. Life endured. It always did.

When he agreed that prudence was not fear, she inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment. "Understanding the nature of teeth is certainly valuable," she replied. "Though I have often found that understanding why the lion hunts can be equally important." The observation carried no challenge. It was simply another angle from which to examine the same truth.

Her attention shifted when he spoke of the valley itself. Of the sanctuary. Of frightened people becoming whole again, then came the word leverage Taiia considered it for several moments. "I suppose that depends on who is looking." Her gaze turned to the village ahead of them with its high walls. "To some, anything precious eventually becomes leverage. A family. A nation. A faith. A temple." The corner of her mouth softened faintly. "History provides no shortage of examples."

The breeze stirred the edges of her cloak as they walked. "And yet I have always found it curious that we describe such things as weaknesses when they are often the source of our greatest strength." Her eyes returned to him. "People endure suffering because something matters to them. They sacrifice because something matters to them. Entire civilizations survive because there is something they refuse to abandon."

There was no attempt to dismiss his perspective; if anything, she appeared to be examining it. "Perhaps leverage and strength are not opposing ideas. Perhaps they are simply different descriptions of the same attachment viewed from different sides." The thought lingered between them before the conversation shifted. The next words made her attention sharpen. I did come seeking you. Not visibly enough for most to notice, but enough. Then came the explanation, but the part that stuck out followed.

Willingly.

For the first time since they had begun walking, she fell silent. Not because she was alarmed, but because she was thinking. Someone had spoken of her name to a former Sith Emperor and done so intentionally. That fact alone was far more interesting than it was concerning; a dozen possibilities surfaced immediately—old allies. Perhaps even old enemies, and in the light of the previous conversation with Allyson Locke she couldn't rule out that it was her that had mentioned Taiia. What truly interested her was not who had spoken her name; it was why.

"You have crossed a considerable distance in pursuit of understanding," she said at last. "That alone tells me whoever spoke my name, it was more than a passing mention. As a scholar, I'll commend your curiosity, as for me I am nothing special. I am a wife, a mother, and as you can see, a headmistress of an academy built to teach others a different way to understand the force." Her green eyes studied him carefully, still searching for an unspoken intent; were there one, but curiosity was a difficult thing to fake. "What understanding are you seeking, my lord?"

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[Darth Prazutis]

For several measured steps the Dark Lord of the Sith walked in silence. The valley continued around them with its stubborn peace. Water over stone, wind through leaves. The distant murmur of students resuming lessons beneath the careful shelter of their Headmistress' will. Life asserting itself in small, ordinary ways despite the abyss walking through its heart. It would've been simple to tip the scales over into the dark, to drown them in the malevolence of His presence alone. But He stayed His hand, the darkness remained just enough to remind all that it was here, and it would remain uncomfortably so until His departure.

The Dark Lord didn't dismiss her answer. That, perhaps, was more dangerous than contempt. "A wife." He repeated, His voice low and thoughtful. "A mother. A headmistress." His molten gaze remained upon the path ahead for a moment longer before turning slightly toward her. "You answer modestly." There was no warmth in the observation, but neither was there mockery. "Not falsely. That is important. False humility has a smell. It cloys. It tries too hard to disguise pride as virtue, yours does not." The Dark Lord's eyes passed once more over the temple walls, the jungle, the hidden lines of defense, and the lives tucked carefully behind stone and discipline. "But modesty is not the same as insignificance." The words settled between them. "You have built an answer to the galaxy here. Not a loud one, not an empire. Not an army marching beneath banners. Something quieter, a refuge, a school. A place where power is taught without being made immediately obedient to conquest." A faint curve touched His mouth. "You may imagine why that would interest Me."

The path curved gently toward the temple, and Prazutis allowed the silence to stretch just long enough for the sound of the river to fill it. When He spoke again, His voice had lowered, not in secrecy, but in gravity. "You ask what understanding I seek." His molten eyes remained forward. "Not who spoke your name." A pause. "That distinction matters." He let the words hang there, patient and deliberate. "The one who gave it understood secrecy. Intimately. Not as a habit, not as a trick, but as a way of life. The kind of being who learns to leave no footprints in the Force, no clean edges in a dossier, no easy trail for hunters to follow." His gaze shifted toward her now. "Such people do not reveal precious things by accident." The valley seemed quieter beneath the statement. "Your name was not spoken carelessly. It was offered as part of a bargain."

No flourish. No cruelty for its own sake. Only the careful placement of weight into Taiia's hands. "Odessen's peace was stipulated. Your safety was stipulated. No harm to this valley. No fleet in your sky. No assassin crossing your threshold. No fire descending upon these walls." His eyes moved briefly toward the students and village beyond. "I accepted." There was no apology in Him. No shame. No attempt to soften what that meant. "And I honored it." The words were calm enough to be almost courteous. "But bargains of that magnitude are never purchased cheaply." Prazutis continued walking, slow and unhurried, giving her the dignity of motion rather than cornering her beneath the revelation. "The price was paid elsewhere. In names. In locations. In hidden routes and sanctuaries. In the private architecture of people who believed themselves protected by trust." His tone remained even. "Safehouses opened. Networks collapsed. Ghosts that had spent years avoiding the blade discovered that secrecy is only a shield until someone trusted decides what it is worth." He let the implication breathe without naming her.

That was the cruelty of it. Not the reveal. The space where the reveal should have been. "You said you are nothing special." The Mortarch's eyes returned to her. "I cannot accept that answer." A pause. "Not because I doubt your sincerity. Because the dead have already contradicted you." The wind moved between them, stirring the edge of His robes like living darkness. "You spoke of attachment as strength. Good. Then consider this: Someone looked upon you, upon this valley, upon the life you built here, and decided it was worth preserving at a cost most would call unforgivable." His voice softened. "What does that make you, Taiia Mataan?" The Shadow Hand didn't wait long before continuing. "Leverage, perhaps. Strength, perhaps. Both, as you said, may be different descriptions of the same attachment viewed from opposite sides." The faintest trace of approval touched His expression.

"But I didn't cross the stars to be told you are ordinary. Ordinary people are not named in bargains that move death across the stars." A beat. "So the understanding I seek is simple." His gaze sharpened. "I wish to know why someone believed your peace was worth more than the survival of others."

Taiia Mataan​

 

[Taiia Mataan]

//: Darth Prazutis //:​

For the first time since he began speaking, Taiia fell silent. The image he painted was difficult to ignore. Safehouses. Networks. Lives extinguished across the stars. Names traded like currency in a bargain struck far away from Odessen's quiet rivers and stone walls. The weight of it settled heavily between them, carried not by accusation but by simple fact. She walked in silence for several steps before speaking.

"You ask a hard question, my lord." The words were gentle, thoughtful rather than defensive. "Not because I fear the answer, but because it assumes I can answer that." Her gaze drifted briefly toward the valley before turning back to the temple, where students moved between lessons beneath the afternoon sun. The academy continued around them much as it always had. Life moved forward one day at a time, largely unaware of the conversations that shaped the wider galaxy.

"I have spent much of my life studying people. The Force and history." A faint smile touched her lips. "The older I become, the more I find that understanding often arrives hand in hand with power. Once we understand something, we begin to imagine what might be done with it." Green eyes shifted back toward him. "You seek to know why someone considered my peace worth such a price. Perhaps they believed I represented something worth preserving. A person. A place. A future." Her shoulders rose in a small shrug. "Perhaps they were mistaken. Or perhaps they saw something I could not."

The smile faded, leaving only quiet honesty. "I cannot answer for another person's choices, particularly when I was not present to make them. In isolation, I would never make such a choice. But that is easy to say when your life is not on the line." She studied him for a moment, thoughtful rather than cautious. "People rarely make their most important decisions because they are logical. They make them because they love, because they fear, because they hope, or because they cannot bear the alternative."

The river continued beside them, filling the brief silence that followed. "You ask what makes me worth such a sacrifice." Her expression softened slightly. "I suspect the answer changes depending on who is being asked. In my own eyes, of course, it is a terrible price, and not one I would choose." Another few steps carried them closer to the temple before she spoke again.

"But I wonder if we are discussing me at all." There was no challenge in the observation. If anything, it sounded like genuine curiosity. "You say you seek understanding. I cannot speak for whoever made the bargain." Her eyes settled on him once more. "And still you crossed the stars to ask the question."

Her eyes lingered on him for a moment, studying him with the same quiet curiosity he had spent the last several minutes directing toward her. "Which leaves me wondering whether the mystery troubling you is not why someone valued my peace but why they valued it enough that you kept your word."

At those words, they arrived at her office. Taiia opened the door and stepped inside first before turning back toward him.

"Welcome."

With that, she moved toward a small tea set resting on a nearby table and began the familiar process of preparing it. The office itself was orderly but lived-in in the way only a room occupied for many years could be. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books, datacrons, and artifacts gathered from a lifetime spent exploring forgotten corners of the galaxy. Some were ancient, others merely curious, each carrying a story of its own.

Near the windows overlooking the valley sat a small seating area arranged around a low table. The chairs had clearly been chosen for comfort rather than ceremony, though one appeared large enough to comfortably accommodate even someone of Prazutis' considerable stature. The room lacked the grandeur one might expect from the mistress of the valley. It felt less like the office of a ruler and more like the study of a scholar who had simply accumulated responsibilities over the years.

​

 

[Darth Prazutis]

The Shadow Hand paused at the threshold of the office. Not because the room impressed Him. It didn't.

The halls he walked through were forged to scream domination to the very heavens, to drown the mind in sorrow and kill hope in its crib. The architecture of Sith dominion was unlike anything ever forged, the works the Kainate had created were marvels of design. Malsheem was unlike anything ever created in all of galactic history, and it evolved every moment of every day. The office was smaller than most chambers He occupied in passing, softened by books, datacrons, old artifacts, worn furniture, and the quiet disorder of a life spent gathering knowledge rather than displaying conquest. Yet, He studied it all the same. The Dark Lord's molten gaze moved from shelf to shelf, scanning each relic devoid of dust, from the wide windows overlooking the valley to the low table where tea waited to be prepared. There was power here, though not the kind most Sith would have bothered to notice. Not power in the shape of armies or fleets of ships.

Continuity.

That was what the room possessed. There was a life accumulated in layers here, warmth all its own. It held the patience of a scholar, the habits of a teacher in its bones. A sanctuary that was made durable not because it was unbreakable, but because someone returned to it again and again and made it worth preserving. The Dark Lord stepped inside and His presence changed the room immediately. The warmth remained, but it now existed around Him as firelight might exist around the mouth of a cavern. His shadow stretched across the floor, long and severe, touching books, furniture, and artifacts that had likely never known such darkness before. He moved toward the chair that had been set aside for Him, and there was the faintest suggestion that Taiia had either expected someone of His stature one day or was simply too practical to leave such details to chance. For several moments He remained there his gaze silently sweeping across everything. "An astute question." The words were quiet. He turned His gaze back to her.

"Most would have stopped at the horror of it. They would have recoiled from the price and mistaken revulsion for understanding." A faint curve touched His mouth. "You didn't." Only then did He lower Himself into the chair, the motion controlled and deliberate. Even seated, He seemed too large for the room, not physically alone, but in presence. The office didn't diminish Him. It made His restraint more apparent. A living cataclysm carefully contained that could unravel it all if it were allowed to. "You ask whether the true mystery is not why another valued your peace, but why I kept the bargain once it had been made." His eyes narrowed slightly, not with anger, but with interest. "Good." The word was almost approving. "That is the more dangerous question." The rainless quiet of the valley carried faintly through the windows. Somewhere beyond them, life continued in defiance of the darkness being contaned within the room.

"I didn't honor the bargain because of sentiment." The answer came cleanly. "Nor because I was moved by sacrifice. I have watched beings surrender worlds for children, lovers for thrones, armies for pride, and souls for causes they could not define without weeping. Sacrifice is not rare. It is only dramatic enough that the weak mistake it for purity." His fingers rested lightly against the arm of the chair. "I honored it because a bargain, properly kept, is more useful than a promise casually broken." There it was. Unnaturally cold and terribly simple in its nature. "A Sith who lies always is not cunning. He is merely predictable. A ruler who breaks every oath teaches the galaxy that negotiation with him is meaningless, and in doing so limits the instruments available to his own hand." The Shadow Hand watched her carefully. "Terror is useful. But terror alone is crude. Fear can compel obedience, but it cannot create stable dependency. It cannot open every door. It cannot make enemies volunteer what they would otherwise die to protect." His voice lowered. "Trust, selectively cultivated, is far more dangerous."

A pause followed. "Those who deal with Me must believe that My word means something under the correct conditions. Not because I am virtuous. Not because I am merciful. Because certainty is the foundation of power. If I say a world will burn, it must burn. If I say a debt will be collected, it must be collected. Now...if I say a sanctuary will remain untouched in exchange for a price properly paid…" His gaze moved briefly to the window overlooking Odessen. "Then it remains untouched." The silence after that was not gentle, but it was honest. "That is why I kept My word." For a moment, He allowed that answer to stand as if complete. Then His eyes returned to Taiia. "But that is not why I came." The distinction settled between them. "If the matter were only one of reputation, Odessen would have remained a marked exception. A bargain fulfilled and nothing more. I wouldn't have crossed the stars to drink tea in the office of a woman who claims to be nothing special." The faintest glimmer of dark amusement touched Him. "No, Headmistress. Your question is sharp, but incomplete." He leaned back slightly. "I kept the bargain because I am not wasteful with certainty." A pause.

"I came because the bargain itself was irrational." The word was not spoken with contempt. If anything, it carried the interest of a scholar examining an anomaly. To give up everyone, everything, to condemn them to such a horrific fate for such a simple price? To compromise principles once held sacred so easily. "Not foolish. Not meaningless. Irrational. There is a difference. Irrational choices reveal the places where doctrine fails to govern desire. Where training fails to suffocate need. Where identity, no matter how disciplined, bends around something it cannot bear to lose. Irrational choices often speak louder than many wish them to." His molten eyes remained fixed on her. "You speak of love, fear, hope, and the inability to endure an alternative. You are correct. That is where the truth lives. Not in the arithmetic of the bargain, but in the place where arithmetic ceased to matter." He let the words breathe. "Someone trained to survive by secrecy chose exposure. Someone who knew the value of hidden lives weighed them against this valley, against you, and found them lesser." There was no accusation in His voice. That made it worse.

"I want to know what force in you, or around you, created that result." He glanced again around the room, taking in the books, the datacrons, the artifacts, the comfortable chairs, the tea. "This place offers one answer. Peace. A life not built around the endless consumption of war." His gaze returned to her. "But that is the answer a place gives. Not the answer a person gives." The Dark Lord's expression remained carved in calm shadow. "You said perhaps they believed you represented something worth preserving. He finished. "That is closer." The Dark Lord took in a deep breath ever so slowly, and exhaled. "But I suspect it was not only what you represented. Symbols are easy to sacrifice when duty demands it. Jedi do it constantly. They sacrifice homes, loves, children, names, futures, and then call the wound serenity." His voice sharpened faintly. "What was preserved here was not an idea alone." His eyes held hers.

"It was a life they could not permit the galaxy to devour." The words were soft enough to sound almost courteous. "You may be right that you cannot answer for another's choice. But you can answer for what you are willing to do with the knowledge that such a choice was made." For the first time, Prazutis looked toward the tea set. "Because that is the part that now belongs to you. Your reality has changed." A silence lingered, broken only by the faint sound of preparation. "The dead cannot reclaim the bargain. The one who made it cannot unmake it, and you cannot return to ignorance." His gaze returned to her. "So perhaps the question is not whether you were worth the price." A faint, terrible calm settled into His voice. "Perhaps the question is what you intend to become, now that you know a price was paid." He finally leaned back, accepting the space as guest without ever seeming less than sovereign. "Pour the tea, Taiia Mataan." The corner of His mouth curved faintly.

Taiia Mataan​

 

[Taiia Mataan]

//: Darth Prazutis //:​

Taiia did not answer immediately. The kettle had already begun to whisper as she finished preparing the tea, steam curling upward in delicate ribbons while she considered his words but also the argument beneath it. Two cups were set upon the table with measured movements, familiar motions performed often enough to require little thought. Only after the tea had begun to steep did she finally look back toward him.

"You speak of the bargain as though it were a mathematical problem." There was no accusation in her voice. If anything, it sounded thoughtful. "A value assigned. A price paid. A result obtained. The dead here. The living there. A sanctuary preserved. A network destroyed. And because the numbers do not balance, you call it irrational."

She poured the tea, setting the first cup before him before settling into the chair opposite, cradling her own between both hands. "I am not certain I agree." Her gaze drifted briefly toward the window overlooking the valley. "I have spent much of my life teaching others that not everything important can be weighed. Some things exist outside arithmetic. Love is one of them. Grief is another. Duty, sometimes. Hope, occasionally."

A faint smile touched her lips. "Parents understand this instinctively. Ask one whether a child is worth a thousand strangers, and many will recoil from the question not because they cannot answer it, but because they understand the answer immediately and are ashamed of it." The smile faded. "People like to believe they make decisions according to principles. Most of the time they do. Until something arrives that matters more."

She studied him across the table for a moment before taking a slow sip of tea. "You say doctrine failed. Perhaps. Or perhaps doctrine was never the highest authority to begin with." She let silence settle between them before she continued. "As for what I intend to become now that I know..." Her eyes lowered to the cup in her hands. "That assumes I have learned something new. I have lived long enough to know that every peaceful place exists because someone paid for it. Usually someone forgotten. Sometimes someone innocent. Often both. The galaxy is full of monuments built atop sacrifices no one remembers. Learning that Odessen is no exception does not fundamentally alter my understanding of the world."

The warmth left her voice, then not cold, but quieter. "What troubles me is not that a price was paid." Her fingers rested lightly against the porcelain. "It is that someone believed they were the one entitled to pay it." The words were gentle, and perhaps because they were gentle, they carried more weight. Taiia regarded him for several seconds before continuing. "You asked what force could make someone choose another life over so many others." A small breath escaped her. "There are, in fact, many. But I suspect the wrong question is being asked. Because for all your talk of irrationality, my lord, you are not studying the choice itself." Her green eyes met his. "You are studying the person who made it. And I find myself wondering why."

Again she let the silence fall. "After all, if this is merely an academic curiosity, you already possess your answer." She gestured lightly toward the valley beyond. "A woman. A school. A sanctuary." Then she looked back at him. "Yet somehow that explanation has not satisfied you." The faintest trace of amusement returned to her expression. "Perhaps the question neither of us has answered is why a man who understands the machinery of power crossed the stars seeking an explanation that numbers alone could never provide."

​

 

[Darth Prazutis]

For a moment, His molten gaze rested upon the tea as though the small porcelain vessel were no less worthy of study than any artifact upon the shelves. Steam curled upward in pale ribbons, fragile and brief, vanishing into the space between them. The office was quiet around the gesture. No witnesses save the valley beyond the window and the weight of histories neither of them had spoken aloud.

Only then did the Dark Lord reach forward, the cup seemed almost absurdly small in His hand. "You are very good at this." The words were quiet, almost conversational. Not flattery. Observation. "You allow an answer to pass through you, examine its shape, and return it changed enough that the original question begins to accuse the one who asked it." The faintest trace of amusement touched His expression. "A useful talent. Dangerous, in the proper room." He lifted the tea, though He didn't drink from it yet. His gaze remained upon her over the rim, measuring not simply her words but the architecture beneath them. Taiia Mataan hadn't recoiled. She hadn't moralized in the crude manner so many light-aligned philosophers and Jedi preferred when confronted with the ugliness of consequence. She hadn't tried to pretend that peace came clean. That, perhaps more than anything else, made her interesting. Out of all of the people the Lord of Lies conversed with, few could contend with Him with the skill that she subtly displayed, it made her dangerous.

"You are correct." He said at last. "I am not satisfied by the arithmetic." The admission came without reluctance. "Nor by the explanation of woman, school, sanctuary. Those are true things, but true things aren't always complete things. A blade is metal. But it is also intent. It is also hand, history, wound, symbol, threat, inheritance. To name only one truth and call the matter understood is the habit of lesser minds." His eyes drifted briefly toward the window and the valley beyond it. "This place is peaceful because prices were paid. You know that. Good. Most sanctuaries survive by burying their foundations beneath songs, prayers, and selective memory. Their caretakers prefer not to look too closely at the bones beneath the garden." His gaze returned to her. "You looked." A pause.

"And still poured tea." Only then did He drink. It was a small gesture, controlled and deliberate. If the taste pleased or displeased Him, He gave no outward sign. The cup returned to its saucer with a soft sound that seemed strangely loud in the quiet office. "You say the true trouble is not that a price was paid, but that someone believed themselves entitled to pay it." His fingers rested lightly against the porcelain. "That is the first honest indictment spoken in this room." There was no cruelty in His tone. That made it more severe. "Not of Me. Not primarily." The Dark Lord leaned back in the chair, vast and composed, shadow gathered around Him like a cloak disciplined into stillness. "Of the one who chose."

The words settled with surgical precision. "She didn't merely preserve you. She made you beneficiary to a decision you weren't permitted to refuse. She placed blood beneath your peace and trusted either that you would never know, or that knowledge would not break what she wished preserved." His molten eyes held Taiia's. "That is not only love. It is possession wearing the garments of sacrifice." For a moment, the office seemed smaller around them, not because His presence expanded, but because the sentence had narrowed everything else. "You understand this, I think. Perhaps not in those words. Perhaps not with My conclusions. But you feel the shape of it. The offense is not that you were valued. The offense is that your value was spent by another hand." He let the silence breathe. "There are Sith who would call that strength without hesitation. There are Jedi who would condemn it while committing its gentler cousins every day. Parents do it. Lovers do it. Masters do it. Rulers do it. They decide what another life is worth, what it may cost, what it may be spared, what it must inherit. Then they call the decision duty, or protection, or love, depending upon which word makes the wound easiest to carry." His gaze moved to the shelves, to the books and datacrons gathered over years of searching.

"You are right that doctrine may never have been the highest authority. Doctrine is often what beings construct afterward so they can pretend desire had permission." A faint, cold smile touched Him. "The Sith are at least less hypocritical about this than most." He lifted the cup again, though this time He merely watched the steam. "You ask why I crossed the stars seeking an explanation numbers alone could never provide." The question lingered there, returned at last to the one who had carried it into the room. "Because numbers tell Me what happened. They do not always tell Me why it became possible." His voice lowered. "And possibility is where power lives." The cup descended again. "I have commanded wars that consumed worlds. I have watched civilizations bargain away their futures for survival measured in months. I have seen kings betray blood, Jedi betray vows, Sith betray masters, parents betray children, and children betray the dead. None of this is new to Me." His expression remained unreadable. "What interests Me is not that someone sacrificed many for one. That is older than the first throne." A pause. "What interests Me is that this particular someone did so against the architecture of her own life."

He didn't speak the name. He knew he wouldn't need to, not in the presence of a woman with such incredible deductive skill. It was likely the very moment He stepped off the shuttle she knew why. "A being trained to be a ghost chose to leave fingerprints. A keeper of secrets chose exposure. A life built upon concealment produced a single, catastrophic point of clarity." His molten eyes fixed more sharply upon Taiia. "You." The word was soft. "That is why I crossed the stars." There was no sentiment in the answer. No confession or vulnerability offered for her to touch. Only the terrible honesty of a strategist explaining why a fracture in an enemy fortress deserved personal inspection. "Every system reveals itself by its exceptions. Empires fall through exceptions. Orders rot through exceptions. Families survive because of exceptions. Faiths are broken or renewed by them. One choice, irrational by the standards of doctrine, may expose the force that truly governed a life." He leaned forward slightly. "You may call that love. You may call it fear. Hope. Grief. Attachment. Possession. Perhaps all of them stood in the room when the bargain was made." His gaze didn't waver once as he continued.

"But whatever name you give it, it was stronger than loyalty to the dead who paid the price." The statement wasn't meant in accusation, it was designed to be weight. "And now that strength has touched you." The office remained quiet. Outside, the valley continued with obscene gentleness. Students moved. The rivers still ran and leaves stirred in the dense jungles that covered the valley like a protective shroud. A world protected by a bargain it hadn't heard spoken. The shadow of the Kainate had fallen over Odessen. "You say perhaps I am studying the person who made the choice." Prazutis inclined His head slightly. "I am." Then, after a beat he continued. "But not only her." A carfeful admission from one so shrouded in secrecy he'd kill without hesitation for it. His eyes held Taiia with that same patient, abyssal scrutiny. "I am studying what the choice creates in you." There it was, the second blade. "Resentment. Obligation. Denial. Gratitude. Horror. Defiance. All are possible. All are useful in different ways. The dead cannot reclaim the price, as I said. The one who paid it cannot unmake the payment. But you, Headmistress, remain the living consequence." His voice softened into something almost courteous. "That is rarer than guilt. Guilt is common, it's easy. Many beings wear it because it allows them to remain centered in the tragedy. They say, 'What do I do with this pain?' and imagine the question profound."

A pause.

"The more difficult question is what one does with a peace one didn't purchase, but nevertheless occupies." He looked down briefly at the tea. "This is good." The comment was so ordinary, so calmly placed among terrible things, that it only sharpened the contrast. Then His eyes returned to hers. "You ask why I seek what numbers cannot provide. Because the galaxy isn't ruled by numbers alone. It is ruled by the meanings beings attach to them. A thousand dead may be a statistic until one loved name sits among them. One life spared may be mercy, insult, debt, or chain depending on who learns of it and when." The faintest curve touched His mouth again. "Power isn't merely knowing the count." His voice lowered. "It is knowing which number changes the soul." For several moments, He didn't say anything. Instead the Shadow Hand chose to allow the silence to offer space, although if it was just courtesy or a trap it was difficult to say.

"At present, I don't know what this knowledge will make of you." He leaned back once more, the cup resting untouched now between His fingers. "That is the part worth observing." A final pause. "And perhaps, Taiia Mataan, that is also why I have not spoken the name aloud." His eyes burned with quiet, terrible intelligence. "Some truths are more revealing when one is made to approach them unaided."

Taiia Mataan​

 

[Taiia Mataan]

//: Darth Prazutis //:​

Taiia did not answer immediately. The room settled into a comfortable silence, broken only by the quiet crackle of the brazier and the distant murmur of the valley beyond the open windows. Somewhere outside, students laughed before the sound drifted away on the breeze. The rivers continued their patient journey through the mountains exactly as they had before this conversation began. It struck her then that Odessen itself had not changed. Only her understanding of it had.

She lowered her eyes to the tea in her hands, watching the thin ribbons of steam curl upward before finally looking back toward him. "You have succeeded in one respect." The admission came without reluctance. "You have given me something I cannot unknow." She let the words settle before continuing. "There is a part of me that wishes to say the one who made that choice had no right." For the first time since the conversation had begun, there was no philosophy in her voice. Only honesty. "No right to decide what burden another person would inherit. No right to determine which truths another would be permitted to live with." Her fingers tightened ever so slightly around the porcelain before relaxing again. "That is what I want to say." A small breath escaped her. "But I have lived long enough to distrust my first answer to difficult questions." The corner of her mouth lifted faintly. "Especially the ones that arrive wrapped in grief."

Silence returned for a few moments. "You asked what this knowledge creates in me." She nodded once. "Not certainty. Questions. And responsibility." She looked back at him. "If your account is truthful, then one day I imagine I will speak with the person who made that choice." She did not elaborate further. "And when that day comes, I suspect one of the first questions I will ask will not be, 'How could you?'" She shook her head gently. "It will be 'Why didn't you trust me enough?'"

The room fell silent once more. When she spoke again, her voice had returned to its familiar calm. "But you have not truly come here to discuss that person." Green eyes met molten crimson. "You have come to discuss how I think. And I find myself increasingly curious how you do." She rested her cup upon the table. "You have spoken often of architecture. Systems. Exceptions. Patterns." A thoughtful smile touched her lips. "I understand why." Her hand gestured lightly around them. "You govern empires." The gesture shifted almost imperceptibly toward the books that filled the office. "I teach people." The distinction was left to stand on its own before she continued.

"When a fortress falls, a strategist searches for the breach. When a government collapses, a ruler searches for the weakness." She inclined her head slightly. "When a student fails, I begin by asking what they were trying to become." She regarded him quietly. "You believe exceptions reveal the rule. I have found they often reveal the limits of the observer." Not because she thought him wrong. Because she believed him to be incomplete. "You look upon one extraordinary decision and ask what hidden truth produced it." She folded her hands loosely together. "I look upon the same decision and wonder whether there are truths that cannot be reduced to causes." Her smile returned, subtle but genuine. "Perhaps this is where we differ. I have found that understanding another person rarely leaves me feeling I possess more certainty. Usually, it leaves me with less."

She let that thought linger, her gaze drifting briefly toward the valley. "The longer I have lived, the less convinced I have become that another person can ever be fully explained." A soft laugh escaped her. "They have an inconvenient habit of remaining larger than the conclusions we reach about them." She returned her attention to him. "You asked why I poured tea after hearing what you had to say. Because whether I agreed with you or not, you brought me the truth as you understood it." She inclined her head respectfully. "I think that deserves to be received with the same honesty."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Taiia leaned back slightly in her chair. "You wished to know what this knowledge creates in me. It creates another conversation. Not today. Not here. But eventually." She was quiet for another moment before looking at him with the same composed curiosity he had carried since stepping onto Odessen. "And now, my lord, " the title was spoken with effortless courtesy, "may I ask you something?" She did not wait for permission. "You have spent this afternoon examining what one person's exception reveals about another. You have crossed the stars because one decision refused to fit the pattern you expected." The faintest smile touched the corner of her mouth. "I wonder, have you considered that the exception may not reveal a flaw in the person?" The silence stretched comfortably between them. "It may reveal a flaw in the pattern."

She allowed that thought to settle before offering one last observation. "You believe every mystery yields if one observes long enough." Another quiet smile. "I have spent my life teaching. And I have found that people possess one remarkable quality, that they continue becoming." The room grew still once more. "So perhaps the greatest limitation of every philosophy is not that it fails to explain who we are." Her gaze remained steady upon him. "It is that it forgets we are not finished becoming."

​