First Reply The Ascent

[Vaegon Dolmyrian]

The winds howled again as they swept across the Ice Giant Range, sounding like an ancient lament for those who had fallen attempting the journey to its highest peak. Vaegon pressed forward, making the treacherous climb. His silver and black robes were dusted with frost, and his boots were caked in dirt and grit. With each step, his foot sank deep into the powdery snow. Above him, the Temple-City of Stav Kesh loomed, carved into the jagged peaks near the mountain's summit. The sandstone structure was cut deep into the rock, standing like a forgotten colossus.

The Great Journey was unforgiving, cold, painful, and brutal. It demanded near-perfect physical and mental conditioning to reach even the lowest terrace on foot. The ancient Je'daii Order had understood this. But over time, Je'daii Journeyers began riding beasts or piloting vehicles to the summit. Vaegon would not submit to such convenience. He would not allow himself a handicap. One misstep could send him plummeting to his death; one overlooked detail could bury him in snow.

After departing the newly constructed temple built by his fellow Jedi and the Alliance, Vaegon chose to make the Great Journey on foot. Stav Kesh was just one of the Nine Temples a Je'daii had to reach to earn the title of Ranger, the ancient equivalent of a Jedi Knight. He doubted many of today's Jedi could even reach the temple unaided. The Dark Empire was gone. Its long claws, once buried deep in this world, had been broken. The Jedi had reclaimed Tython. Yet Vaegon could still feel the poison lingering in the skies, still sense the wounds left behind. But here, high in the mountains, the world felt untouched by time. Ancient. Sacred.

At last, he saw it—a sandstone pillar carved with glyphs, their details worn down by centuries of wind and scarring sleet. The clouds above were darkening. A storm was rolling in. He came to a final rise that led to a narrow path winding through several half-collapsed archways. And then—

The main courtyard of Stav Kesh.

Its great columns were cracked and broken. The dueling terrace lay buried beneath decades of snow. And yet, it still stood. Unyielding.

"You still wait."

Vaegon could feel it in the stone of the temple. He stepped through one final archway and walked into the courtyard where the first warriors of the force were trained.

 

[Tilon Quill]

Three questions had driven Tilon up here climbing, and weighed him down all up ice paths:

Being from cold worlds, cold homes, but having spent the last few years shipboard, uncomfortable at times but rarely freezing — can I be fit for this again?

Having sacrificed to be a Jedi, but being more, having pursued a life and largely found it — do I still want to be a Jedi?

In a place this old, this real, can sacrifice and perseverance give me answers?

He didn't like the look of that storm, slate-gray behind innocuous low ashy clouds. Broken pillars offered limited shelter. At the edge of the courtyard, though, a tumble of pillars inscribed a truncated almost-closed triangle, and deep drifts angled the sides in ways that shunted wind across it. Not a bad place to set up his low, rescue-orange tent and fuelless heater and think until his thoughts made sense.

He was setting up on the shallower drifts in there, shielded on at least three sides, when he caught sight of a person out there on the courtyard. He waved, unsure if he was seen, unsure if this person was friends or for, and kept working on the tent.

Vaegon Dolmyrian