Private Steel Learns Steel

[Ra'a'mah]

Bastion was never quiet—but there were places where its noise thinned into something usable.

The training hall Ra'a'mah Numare had chosen sat high above the city's core, durasteel ribs arcing overhead like the bones of some great machine. Wide transparisteel panels looked out over Bastion's endless sprawl, ships sliding past in orderly vectors while the planet's lights pulsed below. The floor bore the marks of real use—scuffed plating, shallow impact scores, the subtle wear of repetition and discipline rather than ceremony.

Ra stood near the center of the space, cloak set aside in favor of practical attire suited for movement. There was no audience, no guard detail, no sense of performance—only open space and intent. As Jerrik arrived, her attention settled on him entirely, amber eyes assessing posture, balance, and the quiet tells of readiness before he ever spoke.

"Ra'a'mah Numare," she said calmly, offering her name without flourish or rank. "You may call me Ra."

Her stance was relaxed but unmistakably prepared, weight evenly distributed, hands loose at her sides. Not an instructor standing apart—someone ready to step in. "You chose Bastion," she continued, her voice steady and precise. "That tells me you understand pressure. This world does not forgive hesitation, and it does not reward wasted motion." She turned slightly, gesturing to the open floor between them.

"This will not be ceremonial training. No demonstrations meant to impress. No philosophy layered over poor fundamentals. What we do here will be practical—control first. Distance. Reading intent before movement commits."

Her gaze returned to him, level and unblinking.

"If you are here to sharpen your edge, we begin by understanding where it is dull—and why." A brief pause, measured, intentional. "When you are ready," Ra'a'mah said evenly, "step onto the floor." Her eyes remained on him, not challenging, not indulgent—simply present.

"Show me how you stand."

Jerrik Molten

 

[Jerrik Molten]

The Bastion, it was a place that Jerrik didn’t like to admit on how he managed to get on board, but it was also a place that he would unknowingly soon call home. Why? Because the young man wanted proper training. Not to become a Jedi or Sith, but to grow as an individual with their own morals and codes. He didn’t like the doctrine that the Jedi offered and the Sith were just not his vibe. Killing for no reason was not something he cared for. It was messy and always left a nasty taste in their mouth, almost like being a bully for absolutely no reason behind it.

On this day, Jerrik was ordered to meet up with Ra’a’mah for what he thought would be a mere lesson. Instead, he felt this was some sort of offering from some sort of desperate Master, searching for someone to train for the hell of it. It was far from that, and Jerrik wasn’t prepared for anything of the sort. His mind raced the whole way through the ship, making his way to the training hall that was designed for several different training situations. The whole walk felt like it took forever because their mind was heavy with what to expect in the coming moments.

As the young man arrived at the training hall, there was a figure standing near the center of the area within. With a nervous nod, Jerrik stepped through the motion activated doors and bowed their head lightly to acknowledge the female. Her words were alluring, voice soft, yet it felt so commanding, urgent even. Without speaking, Jerrik Molten stepped forward to the center of the room with the bright yellow eyes seemingly piercing right through him. He didn’t care, because Jerrik thought the female was gorgeous. Would he act upon his opinion, probably not.

When Ra’a’mah spoke of how the training was not going to be ceremonial, he smiled faintly with happiness present. The boring philosophy conversations would only put him to sleep because his focus was more on combat, power, and precision. The moment Ra mentioned practical training, that was when Jerrik let out a slight sigh of relief, knowing that he might have a chance to impress the one training him. There was truly one reason to try and impress at such an early stage in their training, and that was to ensure your master knew exactly how to gauge the future training sessions.

The room finally fell silent, Ra ordered Jerrik to show her how he stood. Surely, she meant his stance, because that was exactly what he did. The young man let each of his feet spread about shoulder-width apart, while slightly bending the knees, then lifting their hands as if they were about to get into a fist fight. Both hands were close to his face, shielding the chin and cheeks from being too overly exposed. Without even realizing it, Jerrik began to bounce up and down just enough to barely leave the ground in excitement. "Like this, right?" His voice seemingly filled with excitement for some odd reason, knowing that he would certainly get his ass beat very soon.

Ra'a'mah​

​

 

[Ra'a'mah]

Ra'a'mah watched him in silence as he took his stance, her posture relaxed but unmistakably attentive. She did not interrupt the bounce, the guarded hands, or the eager set of his shoulders. Instead, she let the moment breathe—long enough for Jerrik to feel the weight of being observed without judgment.

"Like that," she said at last, her voice calm, even—but not dismissive. "Yes. Honest. Instinctive. You are standing the way someone does when they expect to be hit."

She stepped closer, slow and unhurried, circling just enough to take him in from the side. Her gaze tracked his feet, then his knees, then the subtle tension in his shoulders and jaw. Close enough now that he could feel her presence without her touching him.

"That tells me something useful," she continued. "You are ready to react. You are prepared to defend yourself. But you are also announcing your intentions to anyone who knows how to look."

Ra stopped in front of him again, meeting his yellow-eyed stare without flinching. "This is not wrong," she clarified. "It is simply incomplete."

She raised one hand—not in threat, not yet—and made a small, precise gesture. "Still your bounce. Feel the ground. Power does not come from constant motion; it comes from control over when you move."

A beat.

"You said you want to grow without doctrine. Without someone else's absolutes." Her tone sharpened just slightly—not harsh, but focused. "Then understand this first lesson: combat is not about aggression. It is about intention. What you are willing to commit to in the space between action and consequence."

Her hand lowered again, calm as ever.

"We will work on power. We will work on precision." A pause, deliberate. "But before that, you will learn awareness. Of your body. Of your breath. Of the moment just before violence becomes inevitable."

Ra inclined her head a fraction. "Reset your stance. Slower. Show me how you stand when you are not trying to impress me—but when you are prepared to endure."

Jerrik Molten

 

[Jerrik Molten]

Jerrik continued to stand tall with their eyes on the woman in front him, while keeping their guard up as usual. You never know when one will strike, even if that person may have been trying to build a bond with them. This is why Jerrik remained in the same position. That was until Ra’a’mah mentioned the bouncing he was doing, which caused him to instantly stop doing so. His gaze remained on hers, even as she instructed the young man to reposition himself in a way that wasn’t to impress, but to endure. His mind froze for a second, then a wave of calmness caused him to feel at ease, and that calmness made Jerrik do as asked. "As you wish, my master." His words calm, yet oozed confidence in a sense.

The young Jerrik Molten dropped the act, crossing both arms against their chest, eyes on Ra’a’mah, while cracking the slightest grin in the process. "Better?" He mocked the female before him, wondering what kind of pain was in store for him next. It was the best way to learn. Practical sessions improved every skill greatly, even the loser in which would learn much from these lessons. Jerrik on the other hand, invited the pain, devoured it, used it as a pillar for greatness. It would show in later lessons. But as for now, his gaze was on Ra’s bright yellow eyes, feeling lured in by the darkness within.

Whatever was to come, Jerrik stood tall with both arms and continued to rest gently across their chest, mind at ease, and prepared for anything that may be thrown their way. "Hm," Escaped their lips before Ra’a’mah was to respond, hoping to bait them into some sort of physical altercation. His cockiness would be their ultimate downfall in this situation and Jerrik had no idea just how deep of shit he may have stepped in, but he was willing to pay the price in the end.

Ra'a'mah​

​

 

[Ra'a'mah]

Ra'a'mah did not rise to the bait, nor did she mirror the grin tugging at his mouth or acknowledge the challenge implicit in the way he crossed his arms and settled into himself. She did not correct him when he called her master, either, not yet. Instead, she watched him in silence, her attention steady and unbroken, as though she were measuring not his stance alone but the intention behind it, the tension that sat just beneath his confidence.

For several long seconds, she said nothing at all.

Then she moved. It was not a sudden advance meant to startle him, nor a dramatic burst of speed designed to intimidate. It was a single, deliberate step, controlled and precise, closing the distance just enough that his crossed arms ceased to be a show of confidence and became, instead, an obvious weakness. Her voice followed the motion, calm and even, carrying neither irritation nor approval.

"No," she said, simply and without embellishment. "Worse."

Her gaze dropped briefly, tracing the line of his posture, the way his weight settled, the tension in his shoulders, before returning to meet his eyes. "You were closer before," she added, not unkindly, but with the certainty of someone stating a fact rather than offering an opinion.

She began to circle him again, slower this time, keeping just inside the range where a less disciplined teacher might have struck or where an eager student might have lashed out. Ra'a'mah did neither. She stopped at his side, close enough that he could feel her presence without her ever touching him.

"Endurance is not provocation," she said, her voice steady and measured. "What you are doing now is posturing. You are telling me you want to be tested, corrected, or struck, and that you believe pain itself will teach you something worth keeping." She paused, allowing the implication to settle. "That is impatience, not readiness."

One hand lifted then, not in attack, but to tap firmly and briefly against his forearm where it crossed his chest, the contact precise and intentional.

"Arms folded means your center is closed," she continued. "Your balance is false. Every response you make from this position requires you to undo yourself first, and that hesitation will cost you when it matters."

She stepped back half a pace and gestured lightly with two fingers, her instruction clear without needing to be raised in volume.

"Uncross your arms. Set your feet again. Shoulder-width. Knees loose, not locked. Let your spine straighten without stiffening." Her tone sharpened just enough to cut through the bravado he carried. "This is not a performance, and it is not about pain. Pain teaches nothing if you are seeking it."

Ra'a'mah met his gaze again, her bright eyes steady and unreadable, offering neither challenge nor reassurance.

"You invite suffering because you believe it will make you stronger," she said after a moment. "In truth, it only makes you predictable. Those who hunger for pain announce themselves long before they are struck."

She let the silence stretch, giving the words time to take root. "If you want to learn," she said at last, her voice calm, unwavering, and final, "stop daring the world to break you." Her hand lowered to her side, relaxed and unthreatening.

"Show me how you stand," Ra'a'mah finished, "when you are not asking to be punished, but when you are prepared to remain standing after the attempt has already been made."

Jerrik Molten

 

[Jerrik Molten]

Jerrik Molten listened to Ra’a’mah with that same smirk perched at the corner of their lips, unaware of what this woman could truly do to him if she desired. But he remained ignorant to their teachings, confident in their own way of learning things and most of all, still not listening to what the woman was telling him. He remained in the same position, arms locked over each other, while pressed gently against their chest. "I don’t think so," He replied with pure arrogance, unwilling to do things in a way he was not used to.

Ra’a’mah did not seem like the person to lash out on others, but there was only so much Bantha crap one could put up with before finally snapping. Regardless of her feelings or true nature of the situation, Jerrik pulled his arms free and placed them at his side, while beginning to pace back and forth in a short motion, with his full attention on the yellow eyes of the female before him. "You will not break me, I promise you that." He provoked, taunting the woman once more with mere words instead of actions. For Ra, it must be getting real annoying, putting up with such a shit head like Jerrik Molten.

The words that Ra’a’mah spoke, mentioning how pain makes Jerrik predictable, was absolutely correct. But in the ignorant mind of the young man, he thought it meant more than just that. "Pain also brings me power. On the verge of death, secrets will be revealed." He replied sharply, ignoring the real meaning behind what Ra was saying. There was still so much for him to learn, which will end up with him begging for mercy, hoping that his past words would not catch up to him. Regardless, Jerrik remained pacing back and forth for the time being.

Ra'a'mah​

​

 

[Ra'a'mah]

Ra'a'mah did not move when Jerrik refused her instruction. She did not bristle, did not harden, did not rise to the bait he so clearly dangled in front of her. Instead, she watched him the way one might watch a blade wobble at the end of a careless grip—aware of the danger, but more interested in why it shook.

When he paced, her gaze tracked him calmly, unbroken, unhurried. The training hall felt quieter for it, as though the space itself had leaned in to listen.

"You mistake endurance for understanding," she said at last, her voice even, neither raised nor sharpened. "And defiance for strength."

She took a single step forward—not into his space, but just enough to remind him that distance was a choice she controlled, not him. Her hands remained loose at her sides, relaxed, unthreatening in a way that sharpened the tension rather than eased it.

"You say pain gives you power," Ra'a'mah continued. "What it gives you is habit. Predictable reactions. Narrow vision. Pain teaches you to survive the moment—but never the next one."

Her eyes did not leave his as she spoke, amber steady and unblinking.

"When you are hurt, you escalate. When you feel threatened, you posture. When you feel challenged, you provoke." A faint tilt of her head. "You have already shown me exactly how you respond under pressure. That is not power, Jerrik. That is exposure."

She let the silence sit, not as punishment, but as space—something he clearly did not know how to inhabit yet.

"You believe I am here to break you," she went on, tone calm, almost instructional. "I am not. Broken people cling to pain because it feels familiar. They mistake suffering for revelation because it is the only teacher they have known."

Her voice lowered slightly, not in menace, but in clarity.

"If pain were enough to make someone strong, the galaxy would be ruled by the wounded. It is not."

Ra'a'mah finally shifted her weight, subtly, deliberately, as if resetting the room itself.

"You want to learn," she said. "Then stop performing resilience and start practicing awareness. Until you do, every step you take toward 'power' will lead you back to the same edge you think makes you special."

She paused, then added quietly,

"And if I wished to break you, this conversation would already be over."

Jerrik Molten

 

[Jerrik Molten]

Jerrik Molten continued to pace back and forth, while listening to every comment the female made towards him. Whether they were true or not, that was for another time. As for now, the young man did allow the words to seep into their mind, causing him to stir with anger with both eyes not leaving Ra’s. It was cute. The defiance Jerrik showed, while Ra’a’mah knocked him down a peg or two with sheer facts. Maybe the young man would regret his words at another time. But not right now.

When Ra added a cherry on top of the examination she had of Jerrik, he scoffed in their direction, feeling the tension grow with every passing second. Without saying another word to potentially dig their grave, the man turned to face Ra, while dropping into a more natural stance. His hand placed gently upon the lightsaber hilt that was tucked away at their side, while shifting each foot to about shoulder-width apart from one another, knees bent just enough to allow the young man to pivot for evasive maneuvers, or defend himself if necessary. "How’s this?" His voice sounded with defeat, dropping the big bad act because deep down, Jerrik knew that Ra’a’mah was speaking the truth.

If he truly wanted to grow, Jerrik would have to change his ways and listen to what Ra has to say, regardless of the fact that he may not like it. His demeanor changed instantly, his focus sharpened, and mind calmed from the anger that resided just a moment ago. "Is this some sort of test? If so, I have a feeling that I failed." He added, while continuing to remain in the same stance, while both eyes locked onto the female in front of him.

Ra'a'mah​

​

 

[Ra'a'mah]

Ra'a'mah noticed the shift immediately, not just in his stance, but in the air around him. The pacing stopped. The noise in him quieted. Where there had been bravado and friction, there was now something far more useful: attention.

She did not praise him. She did not correct him right away either.

Instead, she studied him in silence for several long seconds, amber eyes taking in the set of his shoulders, the bend of his knees, the placement of his hand on the saber, not as a predator assessing prey, but as a teacher gauging where a foundation might finally hold.

"That," she said at last, her voice calm and precise, "is closer to honest."

She moved around him slowly, not to intimidate, but to test whether he would track her with his awareness rather than just his eyes. Her footsteps were unhurried, measured, each one deliberate, controlled.

"You are not performing now. You are preparing," Ra continued. "There is a difference, and you felt it the moment you let the act fall away."

She stopped just off his flank, close enough that he could sense her presence without her needing to touch him.

"This was not a test you failed," she said evenly. "It was a lesson you resisted until you were ready to hear it."

Her gaze flicked briefly to his hand resting on the hilt, then returned to his face.

"You did not lower your guard because I asked you to," she went on. "You lowered it because you recognized that defiance was costing you focus. That choice matters more than any stance."

She paused, letting the truth of it settle, then spoke again, quieter but no less firm.

"You will be tested many times in your life, Jerrik. By enemies, by fear, by pain, by your own anger. Most of those tests will not announce themselves." Her eyes held his steadily. "What matters is not whether you feel them, but whether you adapt before they control you."

Ra took a single step back, giving him space again, restoring the balance between them.

"Hold the stance," she instructed. "But do not anchor yourself to it. Stay aware. Stay flexible. Strength is not found in refusing to bend. It is found in knowing when to."

For the first time since the lesson began, her attention shifted beyond his posture and into something deeper, more intent.

"This is where we begin the next lesson," Ra said, her tone settling into something unmistakably focused. "Not with strikes or pain, but with control. I want you to stand exactly as you are, close your eyes, and tell me where the tension still lives in your body. If you cannot feel yourself clearly, you will never survive what comes next."

Her expression remained composed, unreadable, but there was no dismissal in it now. Only purpose.

"You did not fail," she finished quietly. "You arrived."

Jerrik Molten

 

[Jerrik Molten]

Jerrik Molten noticed Ra’a’mah’s amber eyes, watching him like a hawk, as if she were evaluating the shift in the young man’s actions. He remained quiet, eyes staring right back at the woman, as if he were ready to listen to anything she had to say. Just a few moments ago the rage had his mind clouded because it was all the young man was used to, but in the blink of an eye everything changed. He was so tired of pushing people away, especially when all Jerrik cared about was making the right connections to gain power, knowledge, and the truth, which the latter would come at a much later time.

When Jerrik Molten finally gave Ra’a’mah the attention she asked for, that was when the lesson truly began for the young man. He didn’t realize it yet, but this was the beginning of a new life, one that would bring him much closer to the force than he would ever imagine. The Jedi put him with a Master he cared little for, which caused Jerrik to eventually flee from the temple, making a life of their own without following the code that the Jedi instilled in the younglings at such a young age. It only pushed him into darkness, a spiral of regrets, pain, and death. All of which Jerrik would live with the rest of their life.

As Ra began to instruct Jerrik to hold their stance and close their eyes, preparing him for the next lesson in his training, the young man didn’t respond to their words, only remaining absolutely still with their gaze still on the amber eyed woman. As the moment felt right, Jerrik closed their eyes, allowing one last deep breath to escape their lips, before dipping into the force itself. He was still very new to this, so everything might not go as planned for him in the end. Regardless of their bad luck, Jerrik remained focused on the task at hand, digging deeper within to sense anything that Ra’a’mah may try.

Ra'a'mah​

​

 

[Ra'a'mah]

Ra'a'mah did not move when Jerrik finally closed his eyes.

That, more than anything else he had done so far, earned her full attention.

She felt the moment he dipped inward, the subtle disturbance in the air as he reached for the Force with more instinct than structure. It was uneven, unrefined, but sincere. There was no mockery in her expression now, no irritation, only focus. This was where people either learned or broke themselves trying.

"Do not search for me," she said calmly, her voice steady and close enough to be grounding without crowding him. "I am not the lesson."

She began to circle him again, slower this time, her presence deliberately muted in the Force. Not hidden, just…quiet. Controlled. It would have been easier for her to press, to overwhelm him with pressure and force a reaction, but that was not what he needed. Not yet.

"You are used to rage because it is loud," Ra continued. "It demands attention. Pain does the same. They feel powerful because they drown everything else out." Her footsteps stopped somewhere behind him, off-center. "But strength that only exists when you are pushed to the edge will always betray you when the edge collapses."

She let a few heartbeats pass in silence.

"Tell me where the tension is," she instructed again, more firmly now. "Not where you think it should be. Where it actually is. Your shoulders. Your jaw. Your hands. Your chest."

A faint pressure brushed against him, then certainly not an attack, not even a shove. Just a precise nudge in the Force, testing his balance, his breath, his awareness. Enough to expose what he was clenching without realizing it.

"If you cannot feel your own body," Ra said evenly, "you will never control what the Force amplifies within it."

She stopped directly in front of him now, close enough that he could sense her without sight.

"Do not impress me," she added quietly. "Do not endure for the sake of pride. Let yourself notice."

Another pause.

"This is the foundation," Ra finished. "Before combat. Before power. Before truth. If you skip this step, everything you build afterward will be crooked."

Her voice softened just slightly, not kinder, but steadier.

"Begin."

Jerrik Molten

 

[Jerrik Molten]

The moment Jerrik closed their eyes as instructed by Ra’a’mah, the force swept around the young man until it wrapped around him, like a warm blanket on a cold night. Each of his senses heightened dramatically, causing him to feel every step around him, every exhaled breath from his newfound teacher, the Bastion’s engine's constant vibrations from keeping the ship alive with energy and fuel. It was a first for Jerrik, a feeling that he would never forget because of the constant failures of their past, pushing him towards a path of ignorance and pain. It was time to break free of those chains, time to take control and forge a path of their own.

Once Ra’a’mah revealed that she was not the lesson, that’s when the female’s voice began to fade away into the background, almost like a whisper in Jerrik’s mind. His eyes remained closed, breathing steady, and mind sharper than ever. "So, this is what it feels like," He whispered, while remaining absolutely still. The tension from the duo was immediately cut, Jerrik was now feeling a sense of control with the force, something that never happened before. A little guidance goes a long way, at least that is how the young man felt in that very moment.

Time felt as if it slowed down, allowing Jerrik to sense and feel everything around them. But the whispers continued, guiding the young man through the rage and pain within, hoping to release it into something controlled. He never responded to anything Ra was saying, only to soak in their words to use at another time. But for now, he seemed focused on the feeling that continued to wrap around him, making Jerrik feel something so incredibly new, almost as if this feeling was cleansing his mind from past teachings and showing him a new way to think and feel.

As the whispers continued to echo throughout the mind of Jerrik Molten, he knew that Ra’a’mah was asking something of him, hoping that the young man would spot the tension within their own body. If Jerrik couldn’t feel the tension on their own, the force would certainly help him spot it, then exploit it as instructed. His breathing slowed, mind drifting away with the guidance of the force, allowing Jerrik to sense everything within their body. In that moment, he felt a shiver up their spine, travelling to the top of his neck, where the tension was built up. With pure instincts, Jerrik reached up and began to rub the back of his neck, indicating that the tension was coming from that location.

"Found it." His words drifted forward, unknowing where Ra’a’mah was currently standing because of how deep the force recently drained them. Their breathing was slightly heavier, sweat forming at their brow, but the young man didn’t want to stop. This was the beginning and nothing would push back their training again. He was already held back enough, so his mind focused on gaining power, then honing that power for a better understanding and control. Regardless, he remained in the same stance, waiting to hear Ra’s voice once more.

Ra'a'mah​

​

 

[Ra'a'mah]

Ra'a'mah did not immediately answer him.

She felt the moment he touched the tension, the subtle shift in the Force as awareness snapped into place. It was imperfect, instinctive, and a little rough around the edges—but it was real. That mattered more than polish.

"You did," she said at last, her voice calm and precise, no praise layered into it, but no dismissal either. "And you did it without striking, without flinching, without reaching for pain to justify the effort."

She stepped closer, close enough now that her presence was unmistakable even with his eyes closed. Not oppressive. Anchoring.

"Do not rub it away," Ra instructed evenly. "That is habit, not control. Leave your hand at your side."

A gentle but unmistakable pressure settled against the back of his neck through the Force—not enough to hurt, but enough to define the knot of tension he had found. She held it there, steady and unyielding.

"That tightness is not strength," she continued. "It is anticipation. Expectation. The part of you that is always bracing for impact because you learned long ago that impact was inevitable."

Her tone remained level, almost clinical.

"Now breathe into it. Do not push it away. Do not feed it. Let it exist without answering it."

The pressure did not increase. It did not fade. It simply remained, waiting to see what he would do.

"This is the difference between power that consumes you," Ra said quietly, "and power that serves you. One reacts. The other endures."

A pause.

"If you can stay here, if you can keep your footing without rage, without pain, and without reaching, then we move forward."

Her voice lowered, steady as stone.

"And if you cannot, you will learn exactly why relying on suffering makes you predictable."

The pressure held, patient and exact.

"Breathe, Jerrik," she said. "And show me."

Jerrik Molten

 

[Jerrik Molten]

His eyes may have been closed entirely, but his mind stretched out for what seemed like miles, sensing every little thing around him, even things inside his own body that he didn’t know he could pinpoint. Ra’s voice continued to drift around the young man, reeling forward slowly with a hint of confidence in their voice. Ra’a’mah was truly gifted by being able to tame such a lowlife in a matter of seconds, bending him to their will, only to sharpen the young man’s skills in the end.

As she told him not to reach for the tension, he quickly let go and pulled himself back into the same stance as before, listening carefully to everything the female was saying. Ra’s words were like an echo in an empty room, only to bounce off the side of his mind and allow his brain to absorb the information, then use it to better himself. Jerrik was a tool, one that needed to be molded into something useful, like a knife, key, or even a book, but that is exactly why Ra was there. To turn Jerrik into something that could be of use to the Diarchy in the long run.

When Ra’a’mah finally finished speaking, instructing the young man to breathe deep to allow the pain to exist without allowing it to control him. "I will do as you wish." He replied softly, letting the force tune everything out once again. This would only take a short time with a few deep breaths and the force flowing within. Everything seemed to fade. Emotions vanishing in the moment, pain disappearing from thoughts, and his mind felt at ease for the time being. The once cocky, ignorant man who entered the room had vanished and replaced it with something worth training.

Jerrik could feel Ra moving closer, but he could also feel their intentions and she did not intend to cause any harm to the young man. Not yet, at least. For now, it seemed as if Ra’a’mah was testing Jerrik to see if he was even worth training. At first, she was probably laughing within, ready to break him in half and move on to the next. Now, Ra may be rethinking the entire thing over again. Regardless, Jerrik listened and continued to breathe in and out deeply, pushing the pressure and tension away the best they could. It almost felt like the weakness was escaping their body with each passing second.

Ra'a'mah​

​

 

[Ra'a'mah]

Ra'a'mah did not move immediately when she felt the shift in him. She did not need to. The change was unmistakable in the Force, a subtle settling rather than a surge, like water going still after a stone had sunk beneath the surface.

"Good," she said quietly, her voice close enough now that it no longer echoed, but grounded him instead. Not approval. Recognition.

She circled him at a measured pace, boots whispering against the floor, presence calm and deliberate. There was no predatory intent in her movement, no attempt to crowd or intimidate. If anything, she gave him space, allowing the awareness he had just touched to remain his own rather than something she imposed.

"You mistake control for strength," Ra continued, tone even. "What you felt wasn't power leaving your body. It was noise loosening its grip. Pain does not disappear because you will it away. It fades when you stop fighting it."

She stopped behind him, not directly at his back, but offset, where he could sense her without flinching. The Force around her was steady, disciplined, restrained by long habit rather than effort.

"You are not a tool," she corrected calmly, as if addressing a misconception rather than a flaw. "And you are not here to be bent. You are here to learn how not to break yourself when the pressure comes." A pause. "Because it will."

Her gaze remained on him, attentive, precise.

"This is the first lesson," Ra said. "Not combat. Not endurance. Awareness without reaction. The ability to feel tension without feeding it, pain without letting it write your next decision."

She let a few seconds pass, ensuring the words had space to settle.

"You will hold this state," she instructed. "Not by forcing calm, but by allowing sensation to exist without assigning meaning to it. If your thoughts drift, you acknowledge them and let them go. If discomfort returns, you do not chase it or flee from it. You observe."

Only then did she move again, stepping into his awareness rather than his space.

"When you can do that," Ra concluded softly, "we will introduce disruption. And then we will see what remains when comfort is removed."

The Force around her sharpened just slightly, not as a threat, but as a promise of what was coming next.

Jerrik Molten

 

[Jerrik Molten]

Jerrik Molten no longer felt hatred for everyone around him simply because of Ra’a’mah’s guidance. It was all the young man needed and wanted, even if he wanted to fight at the very beginning of it all. But this was nothing compared to what was to come and Jerrik had a feeling that their life was going to change dramatically. Not because of Ra herself, but from the training she would make Jerrik endure. It was the beginning of molding him into something more than some arrogant turd, with the endless infatuation to gain only power and nothing more.

Ra’a’mah’s presence was felt around him. Not as a threat, but more of a guiding light of wisdom. He didn’t move regardless of what he was hearing or feeling because Jerrik could tell that Ra’s intentions were not to harm him, even if he did deserve it several minutes ago. A part of the man felt that Ra was assigned to him merely to fill the ranks, but another part of him felt that destiny brought the woman to Jerrik for more. Only time would give away that answer. As for now, Jerrik remained still, mind clear, body calm, and focused more than ever before.

As Ra’a’mah finished speaking, Jerrik knew that disruption would add stress to him, but it was also a very good opportunity to prove that he could achieve the goal his new teacher gave him. The force was the pillar for this lesson, draining energy from within every second Jerrik continued to lean on it. In time, he won’t need to rely on it as much because of the constant training on how to use it when necessary. "I’m ready," He admitted to the woman, regardless of how prepared the young man really was.

With the force settling within, Jerrik could still feel the tension on their neck, but he did not act on it, nor did he allow the pain to control him. Instead, Jerrik continued to stand in the same stance, eyes closed, and everything within nearly numb from the force allowing Jerrik to push the emotions away, while still being aware of their surroundings. Ra’s voice, their footsteps, it was heard, enhanced even, but it was enough to keep Jerrik on their toes because he knew that something would happen soon. Whatever it was that Ra was willing to throw his way, Jerrik felt that he was prepared for it, even if that feeling he had was wrong..

Ra'a'mah​

​

 

[Ra'a'mah]

Ra'a'mah watched him in silence for several long seconds, making no effort to reach into the Force or search for anything hidden beneath the surface. She did not need to. The steadiness of his breathing, the way his shoulders had settled instead of tightening, and the absence of restless movement told her far more than any psychic probing ever could.

"Good," she said at last, her voice calm, even, and unhurried. "You are no longer fighting yourself, and that is the first obstacle most never manage to clear."

She stepped closer, not intrusively or to provoke, but deliberately enough that her presence demanded attention. Her movements were controlled and economical, the kind that carried authority without threat, forcing attention simply by existing within his space rather than imposing upon it.

"Readiness is not a feeling," Ra continued, her tone steady as she spoke. "It is a condition that must be maintained. You either hold it, or you lose it, and there is no middle ground."

She began to circle him slowly, boots barely audible against the floor, never lingering in one place long enough to give him something to fixate on. The movement itself was part of the lesson.

"You have learned how to quiet the noise within yourself," she said. "Now you will learn how to preserve that quiet when something around you changes without warning."

Ra came to a stop just behind his left shoulder, close enough to be clearly present without touching him.

"Open your eyes."

She waited, patient and unyielding, until he did.

"The next step does not require the Force," she explained evenly. "If you rely on it simply to remain calm, then the moment it is disrupted, you will falter. Calm must exist on its own, without assistance, or it is nothing more than a crutch."

Without warning, she brought her hands together in a single sharp clap, the sound echoing cleanly through the chamber. There was no enhancement, no hidden technique, only suddenness.

"Do not react," Ra instructed immediately. "Do not strike, do not brace, and do not retreat."

She moved again, faster now, crossing his field of vision and stopping abruptly, then shifting position once more so the air stirred as she passed close enough to be felt.

"Awareness," she said, her voice steady despite her motion. "Not anticipation. Not instinct."

She slowed, then halted directly in front of him, posture relaxed, gaze unwavering.

"This is where most fighters fail," Ra continued. "They mistake tension for control and aggression for readiness. They believe strength comes from coiling tighter instead of remaining centered."

She stepped back at last, granting him space not as a kindness, but as the final element of the test.

"Hold your center," she said calmly.

The next disruption would come, and when it did, whether he remained steady or fell back into habit would determine if he was ready to move forward.

Jerrik Molten

 

[Jerrik Molten]

It was nearly silent within the Bastion. The only sounds that Jerrik heard within the training room were the engines of the ship pushing out power to maintain travel through space itself. But that wasn’t all. Jerrik could hear his own breathing, the faint steps that Ra’a’mah made around him, and her soft voice that brought a sense of calmness to him that allowed him to obey their every word. He didn’t cower or submit to Ra, but he did allow that feeling to ease him into easily following orders. This was a new feeling to Jerrik, one that he did not know existed in such a world filled with hate and darkness.

The moment Ra’a’mah praised Jerrik for finally embracing the teachings, instead of pushing them away with hate and violence, that was the moment the young man felt at home, even if it was a complete turnaround from what he was used to. Regardless of his feelings at the moment, it was brought back down to reality when Ra mentioned how being ready was not a feeling. He instantly knew what she was talking about and felt stupid for even speaking in the moment. It was a mistake that he would likely not make again, especially in the presence of Ra to ensure he learned from the past.

It was then that Ra began to circle him slowly, while speaking on what Jerrik learned and what was to come next. The pride he was feeling was nearly overwhelming, but Jerrik managed to push the emotion aside for the time being so that he could focus on the present and future. As she stopped circling around the young man and stopped behind him, Jerrik remained still for the time being, while feeling Ra’s breathing coming from his left shoulder. Ra waited a long moment, before finally commanding Jerrik to open their eyes. "As you wish," He replied, while peeling their eyes open, only to be blinded by the light that surrounded them all.

As Ra’a’mah began to explain the next bit of training that Jerrik would endure, he adjusted his eyes to the light and listened carefully to every word that Ra was saying. The moment she clapped out of nowhere, then instantly told him not to react, Jerrik nearly broke and jumped out of his boots, but managed to only blink at the sharpness of the echo that followed the clap. "Shit," He said under his breath, hoping that it was silent enough that Ra didn’t catch it. Regardless, the young man’s heartbeat quickened instantly from the noise itself.

It was Ra’s voice that brought Jerrik back down to reality, causing him to nod to what she asked of him. She wanted him to center himself, something he was actually capable of doing without making many mistakes along the way. So with a deep breath, Jerrik nodded once more before speaking in response to Ra’s command. "Yes, of course. Should be easy, right?" He let out a small laugh, before instantly putting a serious expression back on their face. Maybe he didn’t see the seriousness in the matter now, but that was slowly fading with every bit of training thrown his way.

Jerrik Molten finally slowed his breathing and began to focus on the task at hand, attempting to loosen his mind and body to find that center and hold it. Without the force it could feel like an impossible task for a lot of Force Sensitives out there and Jerrik could see why. But that was not going to slow him down. Jerrik continued with the steady breathing, while dropping himself into a more sensitive state, one that he knew felt right for the time being. He didn’t speak or nod this time. Instead, Jerrik waited to see what Ra’a’mah was going to throw at him next.

Ra'a'mah​

​

 

[Ra'a'mah]

Ra'a'mah remained silent for several long seconds after he settled, allowing the quiet to stretch just enough for him to become aware of it, to feel the space she was giving him rather than rushing to fill it. She let the stillness settle around them like a deliberate test, one that measured not his strength, but his willingness to sit with himself.

Only then did she speak again, her voice calm and measured, carrying the same steady confidence she had shown since the moment the lesson began.

"Good," she said simply, the single word landing with the weight of approval rather than dismissal.

She stepped into his field of view, stopping a few paces in front of him, her amber eyes studying him with a focus that was steady, unblinking, and entirely present. There was no judgment in her gaze, only assessment. The kind that saw more than most people realized they were showing.

"You felt the urge to react," Ra continued, her tone even and controlled. "But you did not obey it. You chose stillness instead. That choice is the foundation of control."

She began to move then, slowly circling him with the unhurried precision of someone who understood exactly how much pressure to apply and when. Her steps were soft, deliberate, each one placed with intention.

"Control is not something you force," she said as she moved. "It is something you return to, again and again, no matter what is happening around you. It is a place you choose, not a state you impose."

She came to a stop behind him, close enough that he could sense her presence but not close enough to touch.

"Now," Ra added quietly, her voice dropping into something softer but no less firm, "we test whether you can keep it."

There was a brief pause: not long, but long enough to create a subtle tension in the air.

Then, without warning, her tone sharpened with surgical precision.

"Jerrik."

His name cut cleanly through the silence, sudden and exact, like a blade slicing through cloth.

"Do not open your eyes," she said immediately, her voice leaving no room for hesitation. "Do not reach for the Force. Do not tense your body."

Her footsteps began to move again, but this time the rhythm changed. They no longer followed a steady pattern. Sometimes they came close, almost brushing the edge of his awareness. Sometimes they drifted farther away, unpredictable and uneven, designed to unsettle without overwhelming.

"I am going to distract you," Ra explained, her tone calm in contrast to the shifting sound of her movements. "I am going to interrupt you. I am going to unsettle you."

Another pause followed, lighter but no less intentional.

"Your task is simple," she finished. "Remain centered anyway."

Her voice softened slightly, the edge easing but the expectation remaining.

"Hold your balance," she said, the words carrying both instruction and quiet encouragement, as though she already believed he could do exactly that, if he chose to.

Jerrik Molten