Kai'el Brat "Guardian of the Light"
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The twilight of Ossus draped itself in hues of bronze and violet, where sun and shadow clashed upon the bones of a forgotten age. Outside the decrepit husk known in jest as the Mud Duck, squatting like a stubborn parasite in the embrace of old stones there lay a small encampment, humble yet suffused with an air of purpose. The evening air was fragrant with dust and the resinous scent of trees that had clawed their way back through centuries of ruin, their roots entwining with the shattered carcass of Jedi masonry.
It was here that Braze kept his vigil. His camp fire crackled with the slow dying embers, casting forth a warm glow. Around him, the ground was strewn with fragments of scavenged glory: fractured focusing crystals still whispering with dormant light, warped emitter matrices gnawed by corrosion, and the elegant latticework of saber lenses fractured by ages yet clinging stubbornly to their mystery.
He worked with the devotion of a cleric, allowing his fingers to brush over ancient alloys as though one touch might summon the echo of the long-dead masters who once forged them. The tools at his side were modest, yet his command of them wove refinement from ruin.
Behind the camp, the yawning mouth of a ruin gaped like a wound in the earth, its entrance veiled in stonefall and tangled roots, a relic of the temple complex buried beneath eons of silence. It was from that forsaken vault that Braze had pried loose the treasures scattered before him now, artifacts defiant enough to have survived the cataclysm that had erased so much else. The ruin brooded there, as though watching him, its threshold a black mirror reflecting his own hunger for knowledge and the peril it so often promised.
And yet, in that moment, the scene was serene. The night-birds of Ossus began their chorus as the stars above bled their pin pricked lights steadily through the twilight canopy accompanying the steady crackle of the fire, bearing with it the faint perfume of cedarwood kindling.
Ossus was scarred and haunted, but beneath the weight of ages it breathed still with the beauty of life. And in its breath, Braze found both sanctuary and omen as if the world itself conspired to test whether he might rebuild what others had lost, or perish trying
