Private IF THERE'S A WHILL, THERE'S A WAY

[Balun Dashiell]

IF THERE'S A WHILL, THERE'S A WAY
LOCATION: Praxeum Of The Whills, Mnemosyne.
WEARING: Jedi Robes.
TAGS: Iona Starchaser .

It had been a while since Balun Dashiell last ventured into Galactic Alliance space, but today's visit carried deep personal meaning. The last time he'd seen Iona Starchaser had been on Naboo, and only briefly—she had just finished meeting with a lawyer at the Royal Assembly, and Balun was scheduled to meet with the same. But rather than arrive on time, he had chosen to delay that meeting to do something more important: to right a wrong that had driven a painful two-year rift between them.

His apology had been long overdue. Iona had deserved to hear it, and saying it had been as much a release for him as it was an act of healing for them both. Once the past had been addressed, she shared where she'd spent those missing years—at the Praxeum of the Whills on Mnemosyne, a secluded sanctuary devoted to the Force. Balun had promised her then that he would visit.

That promise brings us to the present.

His S-91x Pegasus Starfighter descended through the atmosphere of Mnemosyne, the clouds parting to reveal vast mountain ranges stretching toward the heavens. From the cockpit, Balun guided the craft smoothly, watching as the craggy peaks rose beneath him. Behind him in the droid bay, his astromech companion, Chip, gave a familiar whistle. The sound relayed through his headset, translating to text on the terminal, though Balun didn't need it. He understood Chip's language by heart.

"Yeah, this is the place," Balun replied. "A mountain temple. Secluded, peaceful. Like the old ways—disciplined, isolated, but neutral. No allegiance to Jedi or Sith... but open to all."

He brought the starfighter down onto the first flat patch of ground he could find near the mountain's base. As the engines powered down, Balun stepped out and took in the scene. Not far from where he'd landed, a long, winding stairway carved into the mountainside stretched endlessly upward. Clearly crafted by sentient hands, it had the appearance of a pilgrimage path rather than a simple walkway.

The climb alone looked like a trial—perhaps even a test of resolve or purity of purpose. Balun imagined someone with doubts or ill intent might turn back long before reaching the summit. He gave a quiet chuckle at the thought.

But he hadn't come this far to give up now.

He was here to see Iona—and he intended to keep walking.

"Speech".
'Thought'.​