Private Lost and Found

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

Lorn slipped beneath a low stone arch, his boots scraping the glittering floor. The Crystal Caves within Naboo's Sanctuary pulsed with a soft glow, each kyber crystal humming like a quiet heartbeat. The sound should have felt comforting, but to him it was a reminder of everything he had done before, too many times to count.

Young voices chased each other along the walls, laughing like birds in flight. Some carried crystal shards wrapped in cloth; others stood with closed eyes, letting the Force ripple through them. Lorn paused, watching. The peace here was rare, almost too gentle to be real.

He shifted his weight, his hand brushing the empty space on his belt where a hilt had once hung. The loss still felt raw. Sars Sarad 's sharp grin and the sting of annoyance flashed through his mind, and Lorn forced a breath through his nose, trying not to let bitterness settle. It wasn't his first lost blade, but it was an important one. He had built the blade upon his return to Naboo, a symbolic way of starting new on Naboo.

Deeper into the cavern, the crystals sang the same low, steady tune as his own pulse. He knew the path without the Force's help, yet something else brushed his awareness; a rhythm out of sync, uneasy.

A youn man, old enough to have done this before, stood too close to the crystal wall. He walked forward, boots echoing on stone. The kid didn't turn, his focus fixed on the shimmering cluster.

"Lost yours too?" Lorn asked, trying for a light tone. The words hung in the air. Then he turned just enough for Lorn to see the metal elbow where flesh should have been.

A laugh died in Lorn's throat. He rubbed his jaw and muttered, "That… wasn't the best choice of words." He exhaled, rough.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Naboo

Equipment:
Field Gear | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

He wasn't sure if he was ready to return to the fight, or if he just couldn't stand feeling pathetic anymore. Whether it was resolve or distraction that brought him here didn't matter.

He'd heard about Kyber formations before, in lessons under Pisti Caleida 's eccentric voice. How each one sang differently, how the Force could be felt in their vibration if you listened hard enough. But hearing about it and feeling it were worlds apart. It was like this place tried to breathe life into him again, whether he wanted it or not.

He stood close to the wall, the metal of his left arm caught the light's glow, seams pulsing faintly where synthetic nerves met flesh. The prosthetic had its own hum... mechanical, wrong, but persistent. When he reached for the Force, it answered through it like an echo through glass. He could feel, but not flow. The connection that had once come easily now stuttered, uneven since the Death Star. His duel with Kyrothian Ravoch left scars even the Force seemed hesitant to touch.

A voice broke the rhythm behind him. A man's.

Ace turned, slow. The man beneath the arch was tall and broad-shouldered, his presence almost commanding the air around him. Long dark hair, streaked faintly with age and battle, framed a strong face marked by quiet authority. His eyes were dark, steady, carrying that familiar exhaustion of someone who'd seen too much and survived out of stubbornness alone.

"Could say that." Ace said after a pause, the word more breath than voice.

It wasn't bitterness that shaped his tone. Just memory. The lightsaber he'd lost hadn't been his creation, it had belonged to Vinorl Kastan, the Jedi who'd left it with his mother. And, she in turn, left it with him as an infant, and for years it had been the only thing tying him to a past he barely understood. Losing it had felt like losing her again.

The older Jedi rubbed his jaw, muttered something about poor phrasing. Ace huffed through his nose, though he didn't smile.

"Could've been worse." He said quietly. "You could've said 'need a hand.'"

A faint beep announced Tic before the droid's claws touched stone, the little BD-unit skittered out from behind a crystalline column.. Ace watched him for a moment, a breath of warmth ghosting across his expression. The droid didn't understand what this place meant, but he stayed close anyway, as if guarding Ace.

Ace's gaze drifted back to the crystals. There were other caves closer to the front, but... Naboo had been on his mind. The Force might not reach for him the way it used to, but it still listened. Despite the complications right now, Sibylla was still on his mind.

He looked toward the older Jedi again, voice low. "Don't actually know how this is supposed to work."

Lorn Reingard ​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

Lorn chuckled, shaking off the sting of his earlier words. "Could've been worse," the kid had said, and he wasn't wrong. Humor like that showed there was still fight left in him, and Lorn respected that.

His gaze drifted down as a soft beep echoed through the cave. A BD-unit scurried out from behind a crystal formation, claws tapping lightly against the stone. Lorn blinked, surprised. "You've got a droid?" he asked, his tone curious. "Not many bring company down here." He paused, studying the pair. "I guess you're not from Naboo then. First time here?"

"I'd remember someone like you if you weren't." He gestured vaguely around them. "For me, this is routine now. A yearly trip, almost. The crystals know me better than I'd like."

He lowered himself into a crouch beside Ace, the crystal light catching in his hair. His knees protested faintly, reminders of old wars and wounds, but he ignored them. For a moment, he said nothing, only listened to the low resonance of the cave.

"When I was a few years younger than you," he began, his voice low and steady, "my Master brought me to a cave like this. I remember being so sure I was supposed to find the right crystal." He smiled faintly, though without humor. "He told me I had it backwards."

He reached out, his fingers brushing the air near the nearest cluster. The vibration deepened, responding to him. "You listen to it," he said. "The Force flows through everything here, through the crystals and through you. You just have to let it reach back."

Lorn glanced at the boy's prosthetic, then back to his face. "It doesn't matter what's missing," he added quietly. "It'll still answer if you give it the chance."

He stood, slow and deliberate, giving the kid room. "Go on," he said, his voice soft. "It's waiting."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Naboo

Equipment:
Field Gear | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Tic's claws clicked once against the stone as the droid tilted his head toward the older Jedi. Ace followed his gaze, half-smiling.

"Yeah." He said. "My best friend. Been with me a while now, rarely leaves my side. Doesn't take up much space and talks less than most people, so… can't complain."

At the second question, his eyes drifted back to the glow along the cave wall. He let it hang for a moment, not searching for an answer, but struggling to verbalize it. Finally, when he did speak, his shoulders slumped slightly.

"Not my first time on Naboo." Ace said quietly "Hoping it's my last, though."

He didn't explain. The words came flat, uninvited. The young man had come to associate the planet with pain, as well as loss. Being here was almost as hard as it would be to return to Dathomir.

Lorn crouched beside him, the crystal light catching faintly in his hair as he spoke about his first cave and his Master's lesson. Ace listened, not interrupting, his gaze stayed on the crystals, but his posture shifted slightly toward the man, subtle but telling.

"They're alive, yeah?" Ace said when the Jedi mentioned the crystal choosing you "They resonate with what's inside you, right?" His voice was quiet, murmuring more to himself. "My old Master told me about them, but I never had a reason to find one."

Still, he listened to what Lorn said further - about letting it reach back. Ace's gaze drifted toward further crystal formations ahead. It doesn't matter what's missing snapped his attention back.

His jaw fixed, "You sound so confident." Tic gave a low, curious chirp, as if urging him on. Ace sighed through his nose. "Guess we'll see."

He turned back to the crystals, extending his organic hand. The light along the cavern walls shifted, it was a faint shimmer, almost imperceptible at first. The vibration in the air deepened, a single tone brushing against his awareness like some sort of cautious greeting. The current of the Force flowed through the hum of his prosthetic, stuttering once before smoothing into rhythm.

The cluster nearest him flared softly, the glow syncing to the beat of his pulse. For the first time in months, the echo inside him didn't feel hollow. He stayed there a moment longer, letting the quiet fill the space between them before speaking again, voice low.

"That me, or... is that one glowing?" He asked.

Lorn Reingard​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

Lorn's lips curved faintly at the kid's remark. "Naboo isn't for everyone," he said easily, though a wistful note touched his voice. "But it's been kind to me. My home world always seems to offer second chances when I need them most."

Lorn watched Ace's shoulders stiffen when he mentioned hoping it was his last time here. There was more to that reaction than words, but Lorn didn't pry. He recognized the weight of it, the quiet resentment that came from expecting too much of the Order, or of life itself. He'd worn that same expression once, and perhaps still did.

The crystal before them pulsed again, soft and deliberate, its glow matching the rhythm of Ace's heartbeat. Lorn felt it too, a faint hum threading through the air and through them both. The Force was reaching, testing the bond.

"That's you," he said, his voice low but sure. "It's listening. You've got its attention now. The question is, what do you feel?"

He straightened slightly, folding his arms across his chest as he studied the resonance. "This is an important choice," he added, the corner of his mouth quirking. "If you do it right, you'll never have to go through this again." A dry chuckle followed. "Can't say the same for myself. Third time's the charm, or so they tell me."

The young man's droid gave another curious beep, earning a quiet glance from Lorn before his attention drifted back to its owner. "Your Master," he said after a beat. "You mentioned them. Where are they now?" He kept his tone gentle, creating space for the boy to answer if he wished, rather than probing.

Lorn knew that kind of distance, the way absence could become its own teacher. He'd seen it cultivate clarity in some, and anger in others. He wanted to know which path this young man followed.

"Every crystal," he said after a moment, his voice soft again, "reflects the one who claims it. Strength, doubt, hope, loss. It only matters that you're honest enough to meet those things, whatever shape they take."

He tilted his head toward the glowing cluster. "So," he murmured, almost smiling, "what's it saying to you?"

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Naboo

Equipment:
Field Gear | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Naboo was older Jedi's homeworld. That, Ace didn't suspect. In fact, he found it ironic. Naboo didn't look like it could make someone like him. Too soft, too clean, too full of marble and music. Yet here stood a man who carried himself like he'd been carved from stone. He was scarred, steady, unpretentious. Maybe that was the point. Maybe the planet made men like him to remind the rest of them that peace wasn't built by gentle hands alone.

Ace's gaze stayed fixed on the crystal's glow, its rhythm steadying into his own pulse. Lorn's words echoed in the space between them - What do you feel?

He wanted to say nothing. That it was just light and vibration, simple physics. But lying to a Jedi, especially one who listened the way this man did, felt pointless. The hum in the air wasn't cold or distant. It felt… searching. Like the crystal was testing him, not for worth, but for truth.

"I don't know if it's saying anything." He said after a moment, voice low. "Feels more like it's waiting. Like it wants to see if I'll flinch first... or something." Ace drew a quiet breath, the movement shallow. "It's warm, though. I guess."

Tic gave a soft chirp at his feet, head tilting toward the glowing cluster as if to agree. Ace glanced down at him, then back to Lorn when the question about his Master came.

"Pisti Caleida." He said "I don't know where she is. Wasn't her official apprentice, so duty called her away a lot." His tone carried a hint of sadness "One day, she kind of just didn't come back."

The thought of her stirred a deep sense of loss within him. It had been months since he'd heard from her with no hint to where she was. Even in the Force, it was vague. Despite their bond, he couldn't tell whether she was alive or dead - it was simply... limbo.

The Jedi went on to explain that Kyber crystals reflects the one it is claimed by. Ace's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as if contemplating. What was it saying to him?

Ace didn't answer right away. The hum around him deepened, less a sound than a feeling, a pulse under his ribs, steady and familiar. He could almost hear his heartbeat slowing to match it.

His brow creased. "It's quiet. Not empty, just… quiet." He let the silence stretch, fingertips hovering an inch above the crystal. "It doesn't sound like forgiveness, or comfort. It's more like…" His voice faded as he searched for the word. "…recognition."

The glow brightened in time with his breath, slow and deliberate. Beneath the light, memories stirred - Dathomir, Atrisia, the Death Star.

"It knows what I've lost." He said softly. "But it's not mourning it. It's saying what's left is still me."

His prosthetic hummed as the current flowed through it without faltering. For the first time since the Death Star, the Force didn't stop at the metal.

"It's not about moving on." He breathed. "It's about continuing. About being here."

Tic gave a soft chirp beside him. Ace's mouth twitched, tired but genuine. The crystal steadied, warm and sure, its light reflected across the wall. In that glow, he didn't look broken, just still standing.

"You said 'third time's the charm.'" He said, glancing at the Jedi with a raised brow. "Why's this the third?" The smirk that followed was faint, practiced, there for form more than feeling.

Lorn Reingard​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

Lorn watched the young man, a silent observer as he spoke. The light caught his face, revealing a flicker of pain beneath a surface of wonder. The crystal's glow had settled into a steady pulse, mirroring his breath. It was working. Words felt insufficient; the Force was already speaking.

When he mentioned his Master, something familiar resonated in Lorn's chest. The name meant nothing, but the emptiness that followed - she just didn't come back - that, Lorn understood all too well. He let the silence settle between them before speaking softly. "I lost mine too. Soloman Varnell." Saying the name aloud after so many years felt strange, bringing a familiar ache. The silence after his Master's death, the unfinished lessons, the weight of continuing alone. The pain, however, had softened with time, worn smooth like a stone in a river. "It's strange," he murmured, his gaze fixed on the glowing wall. "You think the ache dulls, but it never really does. It just becomes part of the rhythm."

He continued to talk about the crystal, calling it "recognition." Lorn's lips curved slightly. Recognition. It was a word most Jedi shied away from, preferring "balance" or "purpose." But he had named something truer. "That's a rare insight," Lorn said quietly. "Most think the crystals are meant to heal them, or fix what's broken. But they don't fix. They reflect. They show you that what's left is still worth holding onto." He gave him a long, measured look. "That's not a small thing to understand."

When Ace turned the question back on him, Lorn let out a soft, weary chuckle. "Third time," he echoed, shaking his head. "Yeah. It sounds like carelessness." He leaned back against the stone, memories surfacing as his gaze drifted upward. "The first," he began, "my Master and I built together. Though, I'd found my crystal with a girl. My first love, if I'm honest. The saber meant more than it should have. It was a promise of something I didn't yet understand." His voice gentled. "I had to leave it behind. Both of them."

He hesitated, then continued, his voice rougher. "The second, I forged here; in this very cave. After the war. After too much loss. I told myself it was a symbol of starting over, of rebuilding what was left of me. Maybe that's what you're doing now." A faint smile ghosted across his lips. "But the galaxy has a way of testing our symbols. The Black Sun got that one. Took it off me after an attack here. I know where it is. Both of them, actually. Just… not worth the cost of getting them back." He sighed, glancing at the glowing crystal before them. "So here I am again. Third time. Hopefully the last."

For a moment, he let the silence stretch, the low hum of the cave filling the space between them. Then he shook his head, as if remembering himself. "And I've gone on without manners." He extended a gloved hand, a faint, rueful smile tugging at his mouth. "Lorn Reingard. Jedi Order. Knight, Commander, Council... whatever title they've decided fits this week." His tone softened, almost amused. "Don't put too much weight in those. They sound more important than I actually am." He nodded toward the crystal, still pulsing in time with Ace's heartbeat. "That, though," he said quietly, "that's something worth carrying."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Naboo

Equipment:
Field Gear | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Ace listened in silence. When Lorn spoke about his Master, his lightsabers, loss, and about leaving things behind, his gaze stayed on the crystal. The story wasn't unfamiliar. Different details, same ache. There was a strange comfort in that; knowing grief spoke the same language no matter how old the wound was.

"Sorry about your Master." He said "Maybe this one can be a new symbol for you... resilience or something." He shrugged, not out of disinterest but uncertainty of if what he was saying was correct.

His prosthetic shifted as he flexed his fingers, the soft hum blending with the faint pulse of the crystal. Then the older Jedi extended his hand, introducing himself. It was... a lot of titles.

For a moment, Ace looked at Lorn's extended hand. Acier Moonbound, heir of Clan Verd, the Final Weave, Rebel. But he elected not to bother, flashing around his own 'titles' didn't hold the same weight.

Ace took his hand, grip firm but respectful "Acier Moonbound." He said simply.

Then he released the handshake, his attention returning to the crystal - its light steady, rhythmic, patient. Finally, he reached out for the glowing piece, gently breaking it off from the rest of the formation. It was colorless in his metal palm.

Then the hum changed. It started as a low vibration under his fingertips, faint at first, then rising in pitch until it threaded through the metal of his prosthetic and into the bones of his arm. The sound wasn't loud, but it filled the air around him, resonating with the same rhythm as his pulse.

Ace drew in a breath as warmth bloomed through his chest, not burning but steady, like the return of something he'd thought was gone. The current of the Force swept through him, clean and continuous, unbroken even where flesh gave way to alloy.

The crystal had answered. Its core brightened, a single point of light flaring to life before spilling outward in a slow, fluid wave. Blue. The light caught the edges of his prosthetic, turning the metal soft and oceanic, reflecting across his face until it painted both him and the cave in the same hue.

Tic chirped softly, the glow mirrored in his flickering photoreceptor.

Ace exhaled, a sound between disbelief and relief. "Worth carrying, huh?" He murmured.

He turned the crystal once between his fingers, watching the light bend inside it. It wasn't just bright... it was calm, patient, familiar. The color of endurance, not fire.

He knew what came next, Ace had tinkered with his old lightsaber thousands of times before - pulling it apart, putting it back together again. He was well aware of how to construct one, but not where to find the parts.

The rebel's fingers curled around the crystal, and his attention settled back on Lorn.

"What about yours?" He asked, then glancing down back at his enclosed hand.

Lorn Reingard​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

Lorn watched the glow shift from a faint shimmer to a steady blue, and for a moment, he forgot the weight in his chest. Seeing another find what the Force had kept waiting was grounding, a reminder that not everything worth holding onto had to be lost first.

When Acier spoke, Lorn's gaze lingered on the crystal. "Worth carrying," the boy had said. The words echoed, quiet but heavy. Lorn gave a faint nod. "Yeah," he murmured. "That one chose you cleanly. It's rare, that kind of harmony." His voice was low and steady, like someone who'd witnessed countless such moments without growing numb.

At the question, "What about yours?" Lorn's expression shifted slightly. He reached into the folds of his robe, drawing out a small, cracked crystal. Its color was muddled, once bright yellow, now a dull pale amber. He turned it between his fingers. "This one's spent," he said quietly. "Still hums, though. Like an echo of what it was. Kind of like myself," he said with a chuckle.

He crouched beside a nearby formation, placing the shard on the stone. The Force rippled faintly, curious. "I used to think I could rebuild what I'd lost, but it always fell apart." He looked over at Acier, a trace of wry humor tugging at his mouth. "The universe's way of telling me to stop being sentimental."

He exhaled, slow and thoughtful, then pressed his palm against the stone. The air shimmered faintly. Deep within the cluster, something responded: a faint gold pulse, old and quiet, but alive. "Maybe this time," he said, almost to himself, "I'll build something that isn't trying to be a memory."

He straightened, a faint ghost of a smile flickering across his face. "If you're staying at the Sanctuary for a moment, I can show you the forge rooms, we have plenty of supplies to get your lightsaber going."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Naboo

Equipment:
Field Gear | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

A smirk tugged when Lorn mentioned that Ace's harmony with the crystal was rare. Was it? He wondered what that even meant, or why it was rare. Shouldn't the harmony be common, if anything?

His trail of thought halted as the weathered Jedi began to answer Ace's question. As he spoke, the rebel's dark eyes flicked toward the cracked amber crystal, the light catching in its cracks. For a second, part of him wondered if that would have been more fitting for him. But... the Force worked in mysterious ways.

A low hum then escaped Ace, thoughtful rather than verbal. The Force around them still hummed with both tones, blue and gold, their resonance faintly intertwined.

"I guess so." He said, finally "Maybe that's the point, huh. We don't always have to carry what we lost. Sometimes... I guess, we gotta leave things behind to make space for what's ahead."

Early as he could remember, Ace was haunted by the mystery of his parents, where he came from. He carried that pain, couldn't let it go. Even now, his mother's face still surfaced when he closed his eyes. Dathomir still burned when he tried to sleep. The phantom pain of losing his arm. The faintest trace of the ache of Sibylla clung to the back of his mind, unshakable.

He knew he needed to leave it in the past. To move on. As hard as it was, as hard as it was going to be.

Ace exhaled, the tension softening from his shoulders. "Something I need to work on, too." He murmured.

Lorn had offered to show Ace around the Sanctuary's forge, Ace studied him for a moment, weighing it. After a quiet moment, his jaw ticked and he nodded.

"Yeah. Okay." Ace huffed a ghost of a laugh through his nose "Had no idea where I was going to find the supplies anyway."

Tic chirped once, as if approving. Ace exhaled, a slow breath that felt like the first step of something new. The ashen-haired rebel then glanced at Lorn's cracked crystal one last time, then back to the older Jedi.

"Don't think there's anything wrong with remembering where we started, though."

Lorn Reingard ​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

Lorn's mouth curved faintly at that last line, remembering their beginning. There was something honest in it; quiet truth, free of grand philosophy or pretension. "No," he said, stepping away from the crystal cluster, its hum fading behind them. "There isn't."

The cave's glow softened as they walked, the air growing cooler away from its heart. The sound of their boots against stone filled the silence, joined by the soft mechanical whir of Tic's servos. Lorn carried the faint gold shard in his palm, its pulse dim but steady. "You've got a good head on your shoulders," he said after a while. His voice was calm, yet held the dry warmth of a man who didn't give compliments easily. "Most people your age are still convinced the Force owes them something."

They passed a narrow fissure in the wall where crystal dust shimmered like starlight. Lorn slowed slightly, watching how the faint light caught the prosthetic on Acier's arm. "So," he said finally, his tone light but curious, "where'd you come from, Moonbound? I don't recognize your name from around here."

He glanced sideways, expression thoughtful. "And that arm looks like forge work, not standard Republic issue. You've been around." He wasn't prying; there was no judgment in his tone, only the quiet interest of a man who'd seen too many wanderers come and go.

As they neared the tunnel mouth, the cave air gave way to the warm scent of grass and rain. Naboo's twilight filtered through the entrance, gold light washing across the stone. "If you're training out there, wherever it is," Lorn said, nodding toward the horizon, "I'd still call this place a good one to come back to. The Order's quieter here. Less politics. More... people." He gave a faint shrug. "Sometimes that's the only kind of balance that matters."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Naboo

Equipment:
Field Gear | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Ace followed in silence, boots scuffing against stone as the hum of the cave faded behind them. The air shifted, cool stone giving way to the soft, earthy warmth of Naboo. The transition was something he still wasn't used to He'd spent so long in places that smelled of smoke and steel that this kind of calm almost didn't make sense.

Tic's claws clicked quietly at his side, keeping pace with his stride. Every now and then, the little droid looked up, his photoreceptor flashing blue to match the glow still faintly bleeding from Ace's hand.

Lorn's words drew a faint breath of amusement from him. "Recent events put things into perspective, I guess."

When the older Jedi asked about his name, his gaze stayed forward. That was a story in itself 'Acier Moonbound' wasn't even his birth name, but it was the name he knew for most of his life. Then, there was the fact he was a Verd by blood.

"Bonadan." He said after a short pause. "Grew up there. Left when I was seventeen, almost a year ago. Rest of it's been… one long road, I guess."

He flexed his prosthetic briefly, the soft whirr of the servos catching the fading light. "You're right about the arm. Forge work. My brother on Roon oversaw it after--" He stopped himself, shaking his head slightly. "After I learned what happens when you fight reckless."

The quiet that followed wasn't uncomfortable. Just heavy enough to feel honest. When Lorn mentioned the Sanctuary, Ace's eyes flicked toward the horizon.

"You take in strays? That's nice." He said, following it up with a smirk. Then his tone lowered into something more serious "I don't know. People are... nice, but, I'm just sort of trying to figure things out by myself right now."

He adjusted his chestplate slightly, then glanced sidelong at Lorn, brow raised "You asked about my name. What about yours? Reingard? Sounds more like a last name you'd find on Midvinter, not Naboo."

Lorn Reingard ​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

Lorn huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Bonadan," he repeated, as though tasting the word. "Never been, but I've heard stories. Hard world. Makes hard people." He glanced sidelong at him, weighing that against the young man's quiet composure. "Seventeen years there would do it, I suppose."

The mention of Roon caught his ear, and curiosity flickered in his gaze. Forge work, a brother on Roon; perhaps even Mandalorian blood. It all seemed to fit, from his resolve to the hint of iron beneath his restraint. But Lorn didn't ask. He'd learned long ago that some stories were better left to reveal themselves when ready.

When Acier mentioned fighting reckless, Lorn gave a faint, knowing grin. "Everyone fights reckless at your age," he said. "Shiraya knows I did. You think you're on top of the galaxy, untouchable, until something bigger reminds you you're not." Then, half-turning as they reached a bend in the path, he lifted his shirt slightly, revealing a thick scar tracing across his right side. "See? Thought I was unstoppable once too. Turns out, the galaxy disagreed."

He let the fabric fall back into place and smirked. "But I get it. You're too cool for a lowly Jedi temple on Naboo anyway. Not exactly your speed, right?"

The path opened up, sunlight spilling through the archway as they emerged onto the steps leading to the Sanctuary. The great marble structure stood before them, its surface reflecting the warm hues of dusk. Young initiates moved quietly through the courtyard below, the air filled with the hum of life and calm purpose.

When Acier asked about his name, Lorn let out a breath, a mix of amusement and memory. "Reingard's nothing special," he said. "Old family name. Been here as long as the archives can trace. Maybe we came from Midvinter once, I don't know. I was born in Theed. Guess that makes me local." He glanced at him, brow lifting. "Though I'm probably the least 'Naboo' man you'll meet. Never had much use for the pageantry."

They climbed the steps, boots echoing softly. Inside, the Sanctuary's forge room was warm and bright, its walls lined with shelves of spare components and half-built sabers. The faint hiss of heat and hum of power cells filled the air. Lorn gestured toward the workbenches.

"Everything you'll need's here," he said, setting the cracked amber shard down beside a row of fresh kyber housings. "Take your time. No rush. The Force moves at its own pace. The best thing you can do is not get in its way."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Naboo

Equipment:
Field Gear | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

"Hard world makes hard people" drew a quiet chuckle from Ace. He didn't answer immediately, shrugging as Lorn's comment marinated.

"Yeah. Wouldn't raise my own there, but..." His gaze lowered for a moment, expression flattening "I am who I am because of Bonadan."

Ace wasn't sure if the older Jedi was trying to reassure him, or be comforting at first. Then, the flash of his scar made him realize something else entirely, Lorn was relating to him. Ace's gaze followed it for a moment before flicking away.

"Galaxy's a pretty vicious teacher, huh. At least the lesson sticks. What happened?"

The tease about being too cool made Ace blink, followed by a faint huff of amusement. Shaking his head slightly, the rebel cast a sidelong glance.

"Cool? Nah." He muttered "I peaked at 'stray with decent posture'." His tone was dry, but carried a hint of humor underneath.

The warmth hit him first when they stepped inside. Tic padded ahead, claws clicking against the floor. The little droid stopped at one of the benches and turned. When Tic nudged a tray of components toward him, emitters, lenses, stabilizers, Ace half-smirked.

"Impatient as ever."

Lorn's earlier words lingered. "The Force moves at its own pace." A contemplative hum sounded in Ace's throat, low and rough. as his dark eyes scanned the components in front of him.

"I'm confident I can do this, but..." He glanced over "Maybe stick around and make sure I don't blow myself up?" He said, half-jokingly.

He wasn't scared, more cautious than anything. Ace knew that one wrong move could probably kill himself and everyone in the forge.

Ace placed the crystal on the workbench and rolled his shoulders once, grounding himself. Then he began. The work came back easily, mechanical, practiced, muscle memory from years spent pulling apart a lightsaber that had never truly been his. The young rebel elected not to use telekinesis to construct his new weapon, preferring the grounding feeling of using his hands, moving.

First, the hilt body: straight, symmetrical, no ornamentation. The old one had been skeletal, fragile in hindsight, beautiful in its sentimentality. This one needed to feel complete.

Next came the tsuba, a guard just below the emitter. That detail had taken him the longest to decide. A guard wasn't common among Jedi hilts, but Ace wanted it. It just felt like him.

He fitted the power cell next, seating it into the frame with careful pressure. Matte gunmetal casing slid over the chassis, broken only by a single bronze band wrapping the midpoint, a small mark of warmth amid the cold steel. His prosthetic adjusted its grip as he tightened the fastening screws.

Tic passed him the black leather wrap. Ace wound it slowly along the grip, the diagonal grooves catching the light. It wasn't decoration, it was function. The texture would give his prosthetic traction, ensuring no slip even when sparks flew. He remembered Ravoch's strike cleaving through his arm. This time, he'd account for that. Not just the loss of an arm, but the loss of control.

The final pieces came together. The design wasn't elegant in the Naboo sense, but it was honest. A reflection of who he was now: measured, grounded, still capable of power, but shaped by restraint.

Then he finally lowered the kyber crystal into its housing. He exhaled, shoulders loosening. "Form V was created for momentum." He said quietly, almost to himself. "Shien turns defense into control, Djem So turns control into power. I guess it makes sense to build for both."

Lorn Reingard ​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

Lorn let out a quiet, genuine laugh when Acier asked about the scar. "Nothing brave or noble about that one," he said, rolling his shoulder as if the memory still ached. "I got dared... bet, really, that I couldn't take the enemy commander without a weapon. Thought I'd impress the troops." His mouth curved wryly. "I did take him down. But I also took this. So, lesson learned: pride makes a terrible shield."

When Acier asked him to stick around, Lorn nodded easily, leaning against the nearest workbench. "You're not getting rid of me that easily. I've got to remember how to build one myself anyway. Tedious work, but good for the hands." He set down his cracked shard and began sorting through parts, movements practiced but unhurried.

The forge filled with the sounds of quiet focus; metal scraping, faint energy hums, the soft rasp of leather. Every now and then, Lorn would glance over to check Acier's progress. He didn't correct or instruct; just observed, the faintest thread of pride flickering behind his steady calm.

When the boy spoke of Form V, Lorn's head lifted. The comment had been quiet, but it caught his attention like a spark. "Form V, huh?" he said, voice low with mild interest. "How well do you know it?" He turned one of his own emitter rings over in his palm, studying it before continuing. "It's a fine form; direct, assertive. A little too flashy for Council taste, but effective."

He reached for his tools, fitting a focusing lens with slow precision. "I've favored it for years. Djem So more than Shien, though I trained both. I like knowing where the blow's coming from, meeting it head-on." His tone softened, almost reflective. "There's a kind of honesty in it. No feints, no tricks. Just strength meeting strength."

He glanced over again, eyes catching the blue glint of the new crystal on Acier's bench. "Though," he added, half-smiling, "you might already know that better than most."

Then he returned to his own work, the steady rhythm of construction resuming.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Naboo

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Ace was reckless, sure. But not to the extent Lorn had described himself as. Growing up on Bonadan had forced Ace to be smart, more often than brave. Recklessness didn't make you a legend there, it got you dead. You learned quick that instinct and calculation had to coexist, that every risk came with a price you couldn't afford twice.​

​

"That's... really stupid." He muttered, almost laughing a little.​

​

Still, he couldn't pretend he hadn't overreached before. Atrisia had proved that much. He'd thought momentum could make up for experience, that willpower was enough to bridge the gap. It wasn't.​

​

Ace cast Lorn a puzzled glance as he fiddled around with the parts of his lightsaber.​

​

"Three times and you still can't remember? Maybe I should be the one looking out for you." He uttered with a smirk, but his eyes narrowing back on to his lightsaber.​

​

The young rebel took a moment to inspect his newly constructed lightsaber. While Lorn spoke of Form V, he checked each seam and curve, testing the grip, the balance, the pull of the metal against his palm. Then, with a slow breath, he thumbed the activator.​

​

The blade snapped to life, blue light spilling across the forge. Its hum pulsed through his chest. To anyone else, it was just another blue lightsaber. But he felt the difference, the Force didn't stutter this time. It flowed.​

​

"Not as well as I'd like." He answered first, then extinguishing the blade "I used to fight with some messy mixture of Form I and V, figured it could carry me but..." Ace didn't finish, just simply waved his prosthetic to make the point.​

​

Gently, he set his new lightsaber on the workbench before resting his chin on his hand, staring ahead.​

​

"I've been wracking my brain, about where I went wrong, about the Sith who beat me. How he beat me." Ace said, slightly through gritted teeth, tone laced with frustration, anger. "So, I'm fixing my entire style."​

​

He let his words hang for a moment, now turning his body to face the older Jedi. His freckled expression hardening into resolve, brows narrowing.​

​

"You know Form V. Think you can show me something?"​

​

Lorn Reingard ​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

Lorn's hands moved steadily as Acier spoke, assembling the final pieces of his saber with the calm rhythm of long habit. The crystal locked into its chamber with a soft click. When he thumbed the activator, the forge filled with a low, resonant hum. A golden blade sparked to life. It was imperfect and a little unstable at the edges, but alive all the same. He regarded it for a long moment, the reflection of its light flickering across his face. Then he exhaled through his nose, faintly amused.

"Never said I was a perfect Jedi," he muttered, giving the saber a slow, testing sweep through the air. "I get by." The weight wasn't the same as his old one; it was a little front-heavy, and the grip was rougher than he liked. But it was honest. It would serve. Lorn let the blade hum down and rested the hilt on the bench beside him, then turned slightly toward Acier, leaning an elbow against the table.

"Maybe that Sith was just better," he said simply, without malice. "Older. Sharper. Sometimes that's all it takes." He folded his arms, eyes steady. "You can't think your way through every fight. Sometimes the only thing between you and the next scar is instinct and a few thousand hours of practice." He glanced at the young man's new weapon, then back up to his face. "But you've got something most don't at your age. You're asking where you went wrong. Most just blame the galaxy."

Lorn reached down, thumbing his blade alive again. The gold light flared, steady this time, bathing the forge in its glow. "All right," he said quietly. The tone shifted, becoming less conversational and more deliberate. "You want to see something?" He stepped back into the open space of the forge, boots scuffing against the stone. His stance widened, shoulders squared as he raised the blade into the classic Djem So guard: high above the head, angled down and back. The hum deepened. "Let's start simple," he said, a faint grin cutting through the usual calm. "You'll get the idea quick enough."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Naboo

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

"Maybe that Sith was just better."

Ace's brows arched, irritation twisting his expression. "I know he was better." He didn't even bother hiding the frustration in his tone.

His anger wasn't directed at Lorn, even though it may have come across that way. It was the fact that he said it as if Ravoch simply 'being better' wasn't something Ace had already considered.

Matching the older Jedi, he folded his arms, shaking his head at what he said next. "I lost because I relied too much on my instinct and talent. Talent without real technique is nothing. I know I can beat him if I just train harder."

He sighed, shoulders loosening as he ran a hand through his ashen hair. Ace's frustration subsided, talking about the Death Star, about Ravoch... the subject was still sore for him. Triggering, even. Lorn's compliment about not 'blaming the galaxy', despite being well-meaning, didn't help.

"Sorry." He said flatly, not meeting his eyes "I'm here asking for help, and I'm throwing it back in your face."

The activation of a lightsaber drew his attention, Ace's dark eyes lifted to see Lorn had ignited his amber blade once more. His gaze followed the Jedi as he stepped back into the open space. The corner of his lip tugged, and Ace reached for his own lightsaber and stepped into the space opposite of Lorn.

Thumbing his own lightsaber to life, Acier echoed Lorn's stance - drawing a curious trill from Tic, who's head was tilted but watching the pair closely.

"I'm a quick study. Show me." He said, smirk rising.

Lorn Reingard​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

Lorn didn't flinch at the anger. He'd seen that intensity before. It was the raw edge of frustration sharpened into determination. In Acier's tone, Lorn heard pain; the kind that came from knowing exactly how close you'd come and how far you'd fallen.

"Don't apologize," Lorn said quietly, stepping into the center of the floor. "Anger's just pain with sharper teeth. The trick is teaching it when to bite."

He shifted his stance, the hum of his saber deepening. "You're right about instinct. It'll get you killed if you rely on it alone. But technique without instinct? That's just choreography." He raised the blade higher, angled it down over his right shoulder, Djem So's hallmark guard. "Form V isn't just about power. It's about timing. You don't chase the blow; you become the counter."

He stepped forward, the golden blade cutting through the air with deliberate weight. It was one downward arc that hit with the sound of thunder even without contact. "You meet force with force, and let the opponent's momentum feed yours. But the key," he pivoted sharply, reversing his grip and flowing into a smooth horizontal sweep, "is control. Every strike that lands without purpose just leaves you open for the one that does."

He let the saber hang loose at his side, breathing evenly. "You said you lost because you relied on talent. Maybe. But you're wrong about one thing." His eyes flicked up, steady and unblinking. "You lost because he'd already made peace with what he was willing to do to win. Until you understand that same willingness, you'll always be fighting uphill."

The words hung between them for a moment before Lorn lifted his saber again, stance resetting. "Now," he said, motioning with a tilt of his chin, "your turn. Let's see how much you can carry before you break your footing."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Naboo

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Ace's eyes followed every movement: the sharp pivot, the sweep of the gold blade, the deliberate way Lorn's shoulders rolled through each motion. Every strike carried intent, not ego. It was clean, measured, unhurried, control that came from someone who'd already burned out the recklessness years ago.​

​

Ace realized, watching him, that there was no anger in it. No push for dominance. Just precision, guided by conviction. It was the same kind of focus he'd seen in the few Jedi he'd respected... the quiet killers of chaos.​

​

When Lorn spoke about instinct and technique, he felt the words more than he understood them. You don't chase the blow; you become the counter. His grip tightened. He'd spent years chasing everything; ghosts, enemies, answers. Maybe that was the problem. Even in combat, he chased: he pursued catharsis, closure, validation.​

​

But then, what Lorn said next cut deeper than he expected: You lost because he'd already made peace with what he was willing to do to win.​

​

His chest tightened. Dathomir. The smoking flesh. The faces. He had made peace once, or... he surrendered, and it had cost him his humanity. The thought left a bitter taste.​

​

"Last time I had that willingness..." He said at last, sorrow in his voice "I went too far."​

​

The admission hung in the air as he stepped forward, meeting Lorn's gaze before mirroring his stance. Then, he moved, echoing Lorn's demonstratio. He was rougher at the edges, but deliberate. Actually moving the blade with his new prosthetic was... odd.​

​

It shifted Ace's center of balance, Before, his weapon hand was an extension of his instinct. Now every movement felt mechanical, like there was a lag between his thoughts and action. For a moment, he wondered if this is what it was like for those that couldn't feel the Force. It was awful.​

​

His first swing came too hard, too fast. But he recovered quickly, redirecting the follow-through into a tight, controlled strike, closer to Lorn's rhythm. Ace studied the older man's footing, then his own, and adjusted.​

​

"I hear what you're saying, Lorn. 'Bout making peace." He added, voice steadier now. "But there's a line. You cross it enough times, and you stop knowing where it is." His brow furrowed, eyes fixed on Lorn's center. "I want to fight like I still know."​

​

Ace repeated the movements a few more times, but everything still felt off. He lowered his lightsaber, sighing in resignation, although his left the blade alive. Shifting the hilt into his right hand, the teen took a moment to look at his empty prosthetic hand.​

​

"Not used to swinging with the new arm, I guess." Frustration layered in his tone. "Reflex and instinct was my bread 'n butter. I know this arm's optimized to the fullest, but... I can feel the wrongness. The delay."​

​

His mechanical fingers curled into a fist, he squeezed hard but it didn't shake. Not like a real arm would. "I'm scared I won't be able to fight good again."​

​

Fighting was how he'd always known himself. The possibility that he couldn't do that anymore terrified. If he couldn't he was worthless.​

​

Lorn Reingard​