The Force, A Legacy Within.

[WolfMortum]

The Chimaera,​

Stardestroyer, Imperial II Class.​

​

Ever since the battle of Atrisia, everything had changed. Not only had the Jedi of the Galactic Alliance been placed on the opposing side of war for Veiere, blurring the line between what was morally acceptable within the lightside of the force anymore but so too had Kay Larr been kidnapped from Commenor that day, the scream that he heard through their bond in the Force leaving him to abandon the fight and the fallen who he had come to call upon as a brother, regardless of their alignment to the Force itself...-Veiere had never truly recovered from the darkness that had consumed his life and threatened to break him down.​

​

No longer could he find himself comfortable within the walls of the Jedi establishment, for he struggled with his own ideologies and having lost faith in what was once a firm and dedicated Jedi Order, now split into sects across the Galactic chart. Naturally, this wasn't to say that he didn't still hold friends within the Silver Jedi Order, but more his inner conflict and inability to remain where he felt compelled to step out, to fight for what he believed in.​

​

Commenor remained a mess politically, though few saw it behind the mask that [member="Lady Kay"] had learned to wear so well. His priorities there had not changed yet he had informed her that he would step away from time to time. Now was such a time, a place within his head that fought against his insecurities and doubts, such thoughts that he dared not to show before others. Those within the Jedi Order all went through times such as this, to which they would seek the safety net of meditation and reflect in on themselves searching for the light of the force that they might find resolution in the quiet. He had tried this several times already and yet for some reason, he could not escape the guilt that had built up around him. Had he abandoned [member="Ryn'Dhal"] to die as he had Cyril Grayson, had his longing to help Kay Larr left him blind to help others that needed him so. Gripping the hand railing that lined the viewing platforms open wall, he stared out into the black of space blanketed in stars and felt the rise of frustration weighing down on him.​

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His plight was not a matter of keeping the Darkside at bay but rather keeping himself in faith to the will of the Force. The more he questioned himself, the harder it became to lose himself within the veil of life that flowed through all things around him, his concentrated waned and the past seemed to take on such a larger focus than the present. In the moment, he found himself thinking back to the battle of Mimban and Deneba, the Jedi Conclave and later the rendezvous he held with Cyril before the flames of war overtook Atrisia.​

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Soon enough, he found himself on the move, leaving the bridge of the flagship leaving the command to the Admiral, Vikras Ansion. The Command deck lay beyond the Bridge itself, a place of meeting for the higher Officers, the Admiral and of course Veiere himself. To either side were rooms with lined the hexagon shaped deck, all facing the table within the center that acted as a hologrid beneath the flat surface, the overhanging emitters lighting the room with the clear blue image of the Galactic map charting all known and documented worlds surrounding the Core.​

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Veiere moved in stride, his eyes searching for the former quarters of the previous command of the Chimaera, the belongings of Cyril Grayson having been stored, packed within shipping crates until a time that Veiere had found himself willing to manage them. He knew nothing of Cyril's family, having only heard whispers of a past love that his brother had lost to the Dark Side of the Force, the irony in that was that Veiere too seemed to be going through a very similar situation to date.​

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He entered the room and slowed to a halt, looking around the crates, their lids clamped shut though not sealed indefinitely. Perhaps it was the guilt. Veiere knew that he could change nothing by revisiting the past, yet to sate his own grief, he had decided to enter none the less. By some fool notion, he wondered how much of Cyril's past experiences coincided now with his own and whether or not the differences they held before would have remained the distance between them today with all Veiere had seen and gone through now...​

He took his time. There was much to go through.

Crate after crate, belongings of Cyril's from his era with the Jedi and then rather disturbingly coming across some of the gear he had adorned during his time under the One Sith. A part of Veiere always suspected that Cyril's claim in infiltrating the One Sith hadn't actually been a lie to save himself the admission of being lured in by the Dark Side and failing to repent from it; yet for all his brothers hardships, that stone cold self righteousness of Veiere's had been lost to him now too. How many other battles would we have faced together now, under the same banner I wonder, were you still alive old friend....

And it was here that Veiere happened upon a curiously shaped object, an item of great value to those outside of the Jedi Order, yet most importantly, of greater significance to Veiere. He had not discovered this before and now found himself looking down upon the holocron in disbelief. Had this been the Holocron they had been searching for together so long ago? Cyril and his allies had began to look for any and all informative objects that might serve to help restore the traditions of the Jedi Order to the Galactic Republic, working alongside Veiere as they had tried to help save the Republic from it's imminent collapse...

"What do we have here then..."

Veiere muttered to himself, turning away from the wall of crates and moving further into the open space in the center of the room, his hand extending out with the holocron nestled in his palm, closing his eyes and calling upon the Force that it might fuel the object back into some form of life and reveal to him the nature of the device.

[member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

"Hello, old friend."

The voice was both physical and ethereal, and it thrummed with something that resembled power. The holocron began to shimmer with a faint blue light, its pieces unraveling to reveal a puzzle of pieces that responded eagerly to Veiere's touch. A holoemitter glowed at its center. but the figure it was supposed to represent was noth present. Instead, that figure stood at Veiere's flank, its arms folded behind its back in the pose it had so often undertaken in life.

His body was nothing more than a ray of eerie blue light, yet it carried all the life his corporeal self once had. Cyril was not clad in the armor he had worn in death, but rather in the robes of his former office within the Jedi Order. His presence within the force was a weak thing, as if it required all of his effort simply to maintain this form, but there was no denying that Cyril Grayson' specter stood before the knight.

"I was waiting for you to find that," the old master tilted his head toward the holocron. "I am one with the force now, Veiere, but that holocron can allow me to maintain a temporary presence within the realm of the physical. Call it an anchor." The ghostly figure offered the knight of Commenor a smile; one that contained all the warmth it had carried in life.

"Tell me of your troubles Veiere Arenais, and I will do all that I can to remedy them in the time I have left. I cannot maintain this state for very long - it taxes upon my spirit to do so. You'll have to forgive me if I make a sudden disappearance. My strength is not what it was in life."

[member="Veiere Arenais"]

 

[WolfMortum]

Veiere's eyes widened, his hand gripping the holocron rather tightly as he stared back at the transparent vision of [member="Darth Mephirium"], forsaken of all of his Dark side corruption. "Cyril..." Veiere spoke up in astonishment, not having expected the former Sith Lord to have recollected his thoughts within such a device. Holocron were tools of great import within the Jedi Order, the librarians guarded such things carefully within the Archive vaults and only those of the rank of Jedi Master had ever held access to them. Yet when he thought of it, Cyril Grayson had once owned such a position within the Order...-Or so he had told Veiere. As Jedi, their history was short lived and the trust built between them hadn't been shaped over time but rather a common goal to restore the former traditions, those that were akin to the Order of a time long since passed.

"I did not expect this...-For this to be yours, where I am..." how could he explain it, the timing of all things. The Force was known for such coincidences, such timing most would be left skeptical had the story be told. "..-Struggling" He finished after a short pause, his head tilting back somewhat as if to gain a better view over the holographic image of Cyril, the interactive display acting in response to Veiere's words and actions based upon the life of his fallen brother. "Atrisia...-You surrendered yourself to the Force, gave your life...-Gave me the Chimaera and the 501st Legion yet I know not why...-All of this is mine yet you know better than most, I am no Soldier, I never sought conflict like you demanded...-What was it all for, what was the point of it..." He had twenty questions, though perhaps half of them were better projected inward rather than at a reminiscent image of his dead friend.

"Those Jedi under the Galactic Alliance...-They attacked an innocent world. I lost a brother as well as my faith in the Order that day...-Only to be forced to abandon the fight with news of Kay's abduction under the Sith Order...-These were people you had fighting alongside you, people like the ones that you lost. They were Sith...Darth Prazutis, this ones name..." His voice grew somewhat cold as he turned to avert his gaze, his frustrations getting the better of him. "You embraced the darkside, I remained with the Jedi as best as I could yet neither one succeeded the other in virtue...-So what was the point in all that you tried to achieve and why pass it on to me when I sought not the fight, but to help people...-Atrisia...-That was hell, so many lives were lost...".

 

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The things that Cyril's specter felt were diluted echoes of true emotions. Lacking a corporeal sense tended to make empathy a rather difficult thing to wrap one's head around, but the old master seemed to manage. His brow crinkled as Veiere spoke, the frustrations of the duty thrust upon him bubbling up in his words. It was understandable, of course. Cyril could count those that new of his intentions on one finger. Veiere had been given hints, but never the full story. Informing the knight of Commenor fully would have only diluted the process.

"Light, dark, these are words we were taught to use as children Veiere," the specter began, its gaze never leaving the knight. "All the terminology revolving around orders of the force tends to be skewed in such a way. Always absolutes, never a liberal view." The tone he took was instructive - like a a teacher speaking to a young padawan. With it was patience, and a quiet understanding that seemed to shatter whatever tension Veiere's words might have built. "The Jedi you knew are extinct. So are the Sith of old. You needed to come to understand that, and now you have. Even know, you speak with dogma in your heart."

Cyril offered his old friend a curious smile. "You say I fell, yes? Entranced with the dark side? That is dogma. I never embraced the abyss, Veiere, I always walked the line. I never ceased to be who I am, and my goals never wavered from start to finish. No, I did what had to be done, for my people, for my son, and for you."

The smile vanished. "I was meant to be the catalyst, never the centerpoint. Jedi, Sith, I have walked both paths and ascended beyond such lines. The Jedi of today are broken. They are beasts of war, and the Sith are shadows of their former selves. They are no longer the threat they once posed to the galaxy, nor will they be ever again. The galaxy will never bow to a Sith Emperor ever again. Atrisia brought light to that, but it was an inevitability all the same."

His lips parted as if he were sighing, though doing so without lungs was a bit difficult. "But enough about me, let's talk about you. I knew my death was coming for some time, Veiere, long before we ever crossed paths. I also knew that the Dominion had to be forged, but that I would never truly lead it. I needed a successor." The specter paused. "You are the Jedi I could not be Veiere. Your heart is strong, and your virtue is great, but you have also been naive. Atrisia broke you, Veiere Arenais, and now you must be reforged."

The figure stepped toward his old friend, an ethereal hand reaching out to clasp the man on his shoulder. The touch was, of course, not real, but the significance was all the same. "This galaxy we were born into has known nothing but chaos and war for many generations. I sought to end this. When I realized the Jedi were broken, I turned to tools I could control: the Sith. Unfortunately, I underestimated just how rotten our former compatriots had become. Dogma caused Atrisia. Dogma killed those people. Dogma left the love of your life to her fate. In the end, I became one with the force, though not before crippling our pursuers and destroying those Sith that might have posed you a threat."

The hand fell. "You lost your faith because your faith was placed wrongly. Your desire to see the Jedi as what they had once been, rather than what they have become was your own. That pain is yours, but hope is not lost," a pause, "You couldn't have saved that woman, Veiere. If you had been present when the Sith struck, you would have either been killed, or given the same fate she suffered. You came to Atrisia because you've a higher calling, whether you choose to acknowledge it or not."

"Death is a simple part of the force. You must do all you can to prevent it, but you have to accept it. The people of Atrisia are dead, but their deaths are not meaningless. You understand this brokenness, and you can be the change that is required. I gave you these armies and my very legacy not because I wish for you to be a soldier. I gave you these things because it is time for you to step out of the shadows...and lead."

The visage of Cyril Grayson flickered. "You've learned much from Atrisia. You must understand that not all is black and white. Service does not require dogma; Atrisia enlightened you, whether you wish to accept it or not. There are very few in the galaxy that can understand these things, and the masses call for a savior: a symbol. It is you that is destined to lead the Dominion into prosperity, not I. It is you who must use these experiences that you have gone through, take the wisdom of the old masters, and reforge this Jedi Order into what it once was: a guardian of the people. There's much you have yet to learn Veiere, about the force and the ways of the galaxy, but I will cling to this physical realm for as long as I can to help guide you. I can think of no other that can bring peace to these disparate peoples."

[member="Veiere Arenais"]

 

[WolfMortum]

'Destined to lead the Dominion into prosperity...'

Veiere chuckled quietly under his breath, not a laugh of amusement but one of great skepticism as though [member="Darth Mephirium"] had told him a story scarcely believable. Setting the Holocron to one of the crates stored with his friends former possessions, Veiere stepped away and pulled another of them closer so that he might take a seat, burying his elbows into his legs and looking back at the holo-image of Cyril, shaking his head uncertainly. "You are no less the preacher, even in death..." he remarked, a hint of a smile taking to the corner of his mouth now however as he found himself reflecting on their past dealings and missing the company of a man he had come to call upon as a brother; in war and in times of peace alike. Cyril's opinion of himself remained mighty high, his actions believed to be following a path most just and one that he felt many others seemed unable to grasp or perhaps more so that they simply hadn't tried to achieve what he had. This wasn't true however and Veiere found his gaze falling in contemplation of himself and his attempts at following a similar course of action since the last great battle they had shared.

"I will admit that the Jedi have left me with many questions as to my own path ahead...-Splintered across the Galaxy, they know nothing of the unity that was once the sword that kept the peace across the core worlds. Like the Sith, they see those influenced by the Dark Side as enemies that must be forced to submit or perish. This was not the way that we taught many years ago...-Yet this Dominion that you speak of, is that not to be the same answer to both of these Orders, including all others that seek to rule over societies unable to stand their ground?" he paused so to let his words sink in before continuing to elaborate on his prior remark regarding Cyril's personal cloud that hung over him in darkness, "You yourself spoke to me about being the sword that fights for peace, yet I answered back then as I still believe now...-Death only brings about further desecration of life. Bringing the fight to others will only greater impede the progress you sought to make before...-Atrisia, that was different. We stood in defense of that world, which is why I came to support you; but if you mean for me to become some sort of Lord as you led the Chimaera before, a title that demands the command of aggression as you showed in your life before now, I am not so confident that I am the one you seek to carry such a weight...".

Cyril claimed that the dogmatic view Veiere was taught to believe was what ultimately hindered him in the end and yet Veiere had come to Cyril's aid unlike any Jedi he had met recently would, a Sith Lord. Veiere had tried to counsol his friend away from the influence of the Dark side, yet he had never tried to be one to dictate the actions of his brother, for he believed in the free will and ability to choose for all, regardless of their backgrounds; it was why he had never forced [member="Lady Kay"] to turn away from the Sith she now found herself obeying, instead seeking to work with her in order to free her from the shackles that were the new Sith Order. The Dark side in the end, would be a choice of her own to make or otherwise ignore and continue in the path she walked. In the end of things, it only mattered that she held the control over her life, and such was Veiere's view for all others least they come to threaten the lives of those around them.

"I am well aware of the state of society to date" He replied to Cyril's need to comment on the nature of all things not simply being black or white. Of course nothing was so simple, every action held a consequence and the Jedi dared not to deal in absolutes within their self restraint, yet that did not mean that Veiere would forsake his integrity and step up to become just another soldier of war, a reaction to the actions of so many others around him. It was also true however that he had tried to bring about the Jedi of old in the Order of today. His actions, while his intentions were good, ultimately led to his seclusion from the Galactic Republic and much later when he tried to assimilate to the other fractions of the Order left active within their separate corners of the galaxy. "I may lack direction but remember who you're talking to, I am not some child, some youngling to be schooled. I have spent my life dedicated to the Force, that I might understand it and empathize for those that know not it's will..." Perhaps it was somewhat defensive of him yet Cyril's tone came off as condescending in that he stood above Veiere looking down. Much had happened as of late and his emotions were unhinged, this was a fact he well knew yet in his eyes, between Cyril and himself, their attitudes had always differed, as much so as their backgrounds and primary allegiances were concerned.

That he had a Son was news to Veiere, he had not spoken of his family other than to say that he had lost a longtime love to the Darkside, anything beyond that had been a detail Cyril had left out of their discussions. Considering Cyril's allies however, he doubted that they would follow one such as Veiere himself when Cyril's recollections of past causes had involved a great number of Sith; "Exactly what leads you to believe that I can lead...-I never sought to stand over people before, I always preferred to work alongside them. No one looks to me with the expectation of command for I have never demanded such a position before and given the affiliations you've had in the past, I find it hard to fathom that any one Sith Lord would follow a rogue Jedi...". Pessimistic, that's how he was sounding though there weren't absurd comments to come back at him with; Cyril seemed to hold a wealth of confidence in Veiere yet his vision seemed loosely based on fantasy than anything fictional or with an ounce of evidence to prove it could become a reality.

"Explain to me this Dominion of yours...-Where would I even start. Under my command, a single Star Destroyer with nine thousand soldiers and little over a skeleton crew to operate her. Even with this number of personnel at my hands, we would be crushed by an invading force without greater tools at our disposal. You are not here to call upon your old friends, Cyril and my name will mean little to those you've worked with before...".

 

[Placeholder 04]

Blind charisma had never really worked on Veiere in the past. It tended to be all that was required to get the ball rolling, but the Knight of Commenor was not so easily swayed. That was good, really. If he simply accepted Cyril's words at face value then he would not be worthy of the position, now would he?

The specter of Mephirium began to pace around Veiere. A brow was quirked as it listened to the errant knight's words, and a ghost of a smile played at the corner of its lips. Veiere still saw things through his own vision; if that could not be shaken, then that vision would simply have to be broadened.

"The gift of words was one I always valued in life, and not much has changed in death," the specter replied, a hint of amusement hanging on the edge of his hollowed voice. "The Dominion was forged of six great peoples, all of which wanted nothing more than to create a homeland for themselves and avoid any further conflict. The Galactic Alliance made that an impossibility, but the damage they did changes little. The people of the Dominion yet live: millions of souls looking for any sign of a savior. They gather on the world of Ession, my former home, and the birthplace of the Dominion. A fleet of vessels and perhaps a billion lives await you on that world. They are lost. Without guidance. The Sith I used as weapons are all long dead now. Those that remain seek peace and stability, not to conquer. They need you."

Veiere did indeed come off as defensive, but that wasn't going to deter the specter. No, if anything, it only served to encourage. Its silent steps came to a halt as it stepped directly in front of Veiere, the ghostly blue orbs that served as its eyes peering at the knight. They saw through flesh and bone, the weight of great judgement within their ethereal gaze. A few moments of silence pressed on until the specter spoke, and when it did, its voice held something akin to pride.

"I know what you are Veiere. I know of your dedication to the force, and to those around you. I only wish to pass on what I have learned. You were never named a Jedi Master, correct? I believe you are worthy of the title, but you must pull yourself out of this slump." The figure smiled. "The very fact that you never sought leadership is why the mantle falls to you. I was to draw them together, but my heart was never pure as they needed it to be. Yours is. People need a leader. Most cannot make decisions for themselves: you can. These soldiers are loyal to you because I chose you. The people of the Dominion will bear that same loyalty toward you. The remnants of the Sith within our organization are children, mostly. They are lost, and they will look to you for guidance. Show the galaxy that those who call themselves Sith are not beyond redemption Veiere."


[member="Veiere Arenais"]

 

[WolfMortum]

To help those lured into the darkness to redeem themselves, this thought caught Veiere off guard with an appeal that reminded him of the duty he once held as a Consular within the Jedi Order. Unlike the guardian nor the Sentinel, his path was study and empathetic cooperation with those afflicted of such things, never to dictate lives but also never to deny another the prospect of repentance and rehabilitation. The Six that Cyril spoke of, he himself was among them, that much Veiere knew. The battle of Atrisia had seen the five others sacrificing their lives in order to conjure a great storm of overwhelming darkness in order to push back the invading armies looking to overtake and kill the royal family as well as subjugate the people of the world, that very darkness Veiere still felt as he often remembered looking on in dismay as the fires swept across the lands far horizon, the city and so many others engulfed in the battle that should never have been.

"A fleet of vessels and a billion lives?..." He repeated aloud, though the question was rhetorical he looked beyond the visage of Cyril, staring across the room towards the command center of the Chimaera, his shoulders tense and his mind listening to the swell of the Force as it seemed to call out to him in the moment. Veiere did not care much for the rank of Jedi Master, it was an achievement worth recognizing for any member of the Order and yet he was not that any longer, it no longer gave him drive when the galaxy surrounding him had plummeted so far into chaos. He sought not recognition of his ability, his experience nor even his knowledge in the Force but rather simply to be able to do something for those that were in a lesser position to help themselves. To aid others and to bring and keep the peace where possible, that was always and still remained his highest priority...-and now Cyril was telling him that this Ession, this world and her people needed his influence much in the same way that Kay had found her calling upon Commenor. Never had he truly considered such a position, the weight and burden of politics was not his pleasure, the game of snakes and liars of whom Jedi sought not to entertain. "I am no politician..." Veiere reminded Cyril, looking across to [member="Darth Mephirium"] with a slight smirk to the corner of his mouth, the title alone was laughable considering his priorities, nothing alike the credits and influence that most politicians focused their lives solely upon, Veiere tried to maintain that above all things in life, he remained a man of integrity. Still, his argument seemed to have quietened and now he had moved to a position of reflection, contemplating with any real possibility just what this Dominion of Cyril's might look like under Veiere's own leadership. "Not since Yutan have I drawn people in together, you and I both saw how that Conclave went..." It was a memory that he had hung on to, it was a failure that he had held great promise in the potential of a renewed ambiguity within the Jedi Order; "I will go to this Ession...-I would need to see this world for myself..-But I am no savior, Cyril...-Do not place me upon a pedastal...-If these people can benefit from any influence of mine then I will gladly give my time for them but never will I claim to be some sort of morale idol...-Many other Jedi have fought and died with the same virtue that I carry...-If this were to become about some call to war...-If there are any ulterior motives against the Sith or the Jedi, I will not support taking the sword to another. I will only do what I can to defend those who know not how to wield one themselves".

Veiere was never one to take the leap into anything without a firm faith in that which he sought to achieve. If Ession was as Cyril claimed it could be, then those lesser experienced, these Sith that Cyril spoke of could truly require some form of guidance. The problem there however would be the manner in which they accepted his company, let alone his want to help them. For a Jedi to come to the aid of the Sith, not to dictate their actions or force their hands in any one direction but to offer them another way, another path...-Despite this being one of the true callings of the Jedi Order to help those fallen learn to redeem themselves in some moral fibre, it was rarely achieved and even fewer times was it something people were willing to try when conflict seemed so much the easier answer by way of pride and ignorance.

"What of this Son that you mentioned..." Veiere spoke up once more, clearly given all of this more of his attention than perhaps he should; the call to be of service to others however, a call he could not ignore. "What of the boys mother? Where might he be now and what does he know of the Force...-Was he introduced to the Darkside like you were...-Would he accept the guidance of a man that allowed his father to die on Atrisia...".

 

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"I shall leave you to your decision then. Whatever you choose shall be your choice alone, but they do need you." The specter muttered in what might have been agreement. It stood in silence for a time, a thousand thoughts drifting through its ethereal mind. When the prospect of the son was brought up, its lips twitched into a small, sad smile. The specter bowed its head somewhat, a hint of regret making its way into the ghost's voice.

"The boy's name is Cedric, and his mother passed during the war with the One Sith. He lives with his cousin on Ession now, but that is a temporary arrangement. He knows of the force, and of his origin, but I would never expose my child to the powers I had to control. It is why I left him with family," the figure's arms folded behind his back. "I'm going to be asking much of you now Veiere. More than anything I have asked of you before. My son is a pure hearted child, but the blood kings runs through is veins. The people of the Dominion will look to him as my heir in the future. For now, he is only a boy, one hurting terribly from the loss of his parents. He knows of his grandmother, of the things our family has done: his mother and I taught him Jedi teachings - teachings similar to those I know you hold close to your heart."

The specter's thoughts drifted to the child. The love he felt for the boy was true, yet distant. Even particularly strong feelings were little more than faint echoes of their former selves. Even still, a parent's concern for their progeny could not be shattered by something so paltry as death.

"I had hoped that the Lady Kay would have been preserved...I know you love her, Veiere. The both of you would have made greater parents for Cedric than I ever could have. Perhaps if Cyana had lived, things could have been different, but..." the specter's brow furrowed. "Cedric is important. He and other children like him are untainted by the galaxy's horrors. They are the future of the Jedi Order, and you must guide them Veiere. Take my son as your padawan. He will do as much good for your heart as you do his. I ask this of you both as a former Jedi, and a friend. There is no one I would trust more with my child's life."

[member="Veiere Arenais"]

 

[WolfMortum]

He owed much still to [member="Darth Mephirium"], as a friend and brother in arms but so to by the sacrifice that Cyril had paid on Atrisia, to which Veiere still felt and owned part of that guilt. He had tried in the past to sway Cyril away from his self righteous destruction, Cyril carrying the weight of the galaxy that he perceived upon his shoulders right up until the moment that it had pulled him six feet under. In what Cyril was asking of Veiere, the nature of the favor and the hope of his sons future placed in the ideals that he felt Veiere stood firm to, the former Jedi knew in the moment it had been raised to him, that he could not refuse.

The Prospective Padawan was a matter not easy for Veiere, Brennan Cabrol had been his last and Veiere still believed the boy had been killed back on Svivren by those within the Sith Empire so long ago. Taking on a new student brought with it a number of memories not all so encouraging as well as the risk behind his bloodline, no doubt carrying some or possibly many of the traits that Cyril had held. The confidence to take to war with such little restraint not foresight on the consequences that such violence held for example, Cyril had often been eager to fight when he felt it was the only answer to an already at-war galaxy where as Veiere had tried to advise him to seek a far more peaceful approach. Whether or not this Cedric would follow in those footsteps was an unknown for the time being yet if truly capable in the force, it was a fact that the boy was better taught the ways of the Jedi Path, as opposed to let loose on his own to explore his powers without the restraint needed to avoid the corrupting lure of the Darkside of the Force.

"I will seek out and train the boy, you have my word..." he agreed most simply, there wasn't an ounce of doubt in this decision. Not only did he feel in debt to his fallen brother, but so too did it seem to be in the best interests of Cedric himself. If Veiere didn't fail him in his training, then perhaps Cedric would grow to become the King that this Dominion needed and Veiere's term that Cyril had seemed so confident that he was fit for, might only be temporary until the lad had come of age. For now however, it seemed he had his first few objectives to meet. To seek out the world of Ession and to meet with these people whom Cyril declared at the mercy of the galaxy without their intervention; to train a new Padawan and to give rise to a future King...-For however much he detested Politics, Veiere always seemed to be being dragged down into them.

"Who was his mother...-The one you once told me about? The Sith?".

 

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Cyrene.

The name hurt, even in this diluted state. Cyril found himself surprised by the pain such a simple thought brought him. Perhaps he had never healed from the loss of his second love; the mother of his children. She awaited him beyond the veil of the force, that much he knew. Anchoring himself to this physical realm kept him further away from her, but that was a pain he needed to bear. Cedric and Caida yet lived, and he could not rightly break this final tether until their home was secured. Not until Ession was safe. Not until Veiere was alright. He could not afford to ascend while there were still things that needed to be taken care of here.

"Her name was Cyrene," he finally spoke, his voice trembling as it spoke the name. "She was a soldier, but she was a kind hearted woman too. She didn't want this war for our children. I left it all behind for her dream, but the war eventually caught up to us anyway. She died shortly after our daughter was born," the specter paused, "The girl's name is Caida. She's only two now. She should remain with her cousin until she's old enough to understand what's happened. Cedric has grown up far too quickly. I do not wish that of my little girl."

Though lacking the physical need, Cyril found himself swallowing heavily. "Thank you, Veiere, but you must know I didn't answer the holocron just to thrust further duties upon your shoulders." The grief vanished from the specter's being, replaced by the solid certainty Cyril had carried in life.

The ghost gestured toward the mass of his former belongings, "Did you ever tell her Veiere?" His voice was little more than a gentle whisper, "The lady of Commenor - does she know of your feelings? I've felt changes in your heart. Something has happened to her, or so I have inferred. You hurt like a broken man; it's unlike you. What has happened?"

[member="Veiere Arenais"]

 

[WolfMortum]

He nodded, listening to the details Cyril was willing to offer up. The mans children had never been a conversation they had shared and it was somewhat saddening to only learn of such things through the voice of a dead man. Holocrons, for all their sentimental value, did not make up for the life lost. The state of his family wasn't exactly a comfortable subject, though a worthy one given what [member="Darth Mephirium"] was asking of him. The daughter would later be another prospective student, if not for Veiere himself then perhaps for Cedric while still under Veiere's advice. The heritage they shared would no doubt be a strong bond in the Force, a connection that ran through their blood passed down through their generations. Now, it seemed it would be this Cedric to learn to take but more importantly make good of the mantle that he would learn to resume; doing a better job than his father had there be any luck on their side...-As Cyril had said, death was a natural part of life yet if Veiere was to commit to another student, death wouldn't be finding them easily where he could help it.

Soon the subject of [member="Lady Kay"] came into the discussion and the persona between them changed completely, the focus shifted to the change in Veiere and it was just like Cyril to not only take notice but to blow it open into another reason to use those educated words he so liked to hear himself speak. Veiere chuckled quietly, it wasn't a habit he'd found annoying in Cyril, he simply knew that few things went beyond his notice and even in death he seemed to be checking up on him. It was refreshing to find amusement in such things, said company had been lost so long ago now and for that time, those months that had dragged on nearly into a full cycle ahead of the battle of atrisia, Veiere was glad to be able to speak freely to a true friend again.

Sadly, the news of Commenor was not nearly as positive, "She knew of my feelings for her before I joined the war effort on Atrisia, we shared the evening together...." It was the first and last time in a lifetime that now seemed completely separate from the reality that he was going through. "I had her love, yet during the battle I heard her scream..." He shook his head, his brows falling heavy, his eyes narrowing as he turned to look elsewhere, taking nothing into sight but that of his memories and the wealth of emotions that swept around him in the sporadic flow of the Force, his presence in the natural energies of life turning dense; "I turned my back on Atrisia because I feared for her. That fear was proven hours later when I arrived on Commenor to find that she had disappeared. She resurfaced only a month or so ago from now, with a Sith Lord pulling her strings. Prazutis, his title..." he inhaled slowly, his eyes closing in attempt to collect his spirits. "Just when I had her, she was taken from me...-Tortured, turned to the Darkside and stripped of her recollections. From what I've been able to tell, this Sith took everything positive from her passed and manipulated her pain to corrupt her over to their end-game...-Of which I still do not understand..." his voice died down, fading as he realized he was speaking more to himself than in response to Cyril. He had been asked a simple question and instead recited part of his lifes story, or at the least the latest trauma.

"I have seen her since. Quietly we work to undo what has been done to her; she knows who I am only thanks to our connection shared through the force, bonded for all the little luck we have remaining, Prazutis could not take that much from me..." turning back, he cast another sparing glance to his dead friend, shaking his head slowly. "In desperation after the events surrounding Atrisia and then Commenor, I turned to the Silver Jedi for help. As welcoming as they were, I realized too much had changed, I couldn't ignore what I'd seen...-I couldn't find it in myself to give to them what I gave to the Order of the past. The Academy on Voss was calm, yet outside of those walls, I could still hear it all...-I returned to Kay. I've risked much in doing so, there are spies watching her closely, I'm certain of it...-But sooner or later, I will free her from his grasp. And any other who threatens her..." there was something there, something buried behind his words that his eyes seemed to echo as he stared through the holo-image, looking to the wall beyond, un-phased by the company of his brother now, as if nothing could be clearer to him than the hope of eradicating the darkness from Kay's life. His words, they almost sounded cold hearted in comparison to his typically neutral approach on life. In this situation, though there were two sides in all things supposedly, it was only Kay's story that mattered to him.

 

[Placeholder 04]

It was a rare thing for Cyril to hear anything resembling open pain from Veiere. The knight had always been a stable rock within the force; few things could make him budge, and those that did tended to be of particular importance. Now would have been the time to place a hand upon his old friend's shoulder and offer him assurances, but such was beyond the specter now. His methods of dealing with other beings were severely handicapped now that he lacked the power of simple touch. A gentle hand upon one's shoulder could have more power than the greatest of speeches, and such small details were lost to Cyril now. Instead, he would have to resort to his words, of which he hoped would be enough to help Veiere deal with his grievances.

"I see. You might have your own progeny running around soon enough," the ghost murmured with a wink. "It's good that she knows. Bottling your feelings up is bad for normal being, but it can be catastrophic for those touched by the force. Jedi should never deny their emotions; they should deal with them maturely, which you did." He continued, obvious approval lacing his quiet words. "As for the Sith Lord...yes, I know that one. One of the Zambranos: a coward. I would have killed him on Atrisia had he not fled. His ilk are all that remain of the Sith now, save for those loyal to the cause. The threat they pose is both real and negligible. Even still, your lady must be freed. Even if she has taken a darker turn, I would advise bringing one of the children to her. A child's innocence can do more for a wounded heart than even a lover's touch."

Veiere had not asked for advice, but it was the specter's way to give it. Little had changed in the transition from life to death, save for Cyril's growing sense of peace. "Ession needs you, but you should keep the Lady Kay close. We should all learn to love one another more, and it is far more fulfilling to bring about change with your other half by your side," the specter paused, "That being said, I must caution you...if she falls to far under the thrall of these Sith remnants, you must be prepared for the pain that will follow. You may lose her, Veiere. A plague of the mind is no simple thing, and killing the Sith that caused it is not guaranteed to cure the issue. It might end up making things worse."

The figure tried to breath a sigh, but it was a hollow effort. Frowning, it continued. "Show her your love, for love is the greatest tool gifted to us by the force, but you must remain vigilant. The cold reality of things is that she may be lost to you in the future, Veiere."

Cyril Grayson's ghost cast its gaze to the floor. "I fear that is your great trial Veiere. All great men must endure them. No matter what happens, you must not let it break you," its gaze shifted to meet the wolf's. "Learn from my mistakes. As great as love may be for the soul, it can also be a deadly poison. There is a threshold that you cannot return from once the bogan takes hold of you. If she passes it, you must stop her."

[member="Veiere Arenais"]

 

[WolfMortum]

"Zambrano, is that his name?"

Veiere turned back to the holo-image of Cyril, his gaze stern as his mind went to darker places, thoughts of vengeance. It was a dark hope to want to strike back at the man, yet his heart was invested in [member="Lady Kay"] and the vision of her torture burned within his mind still. He still clung so desperately to the mantle of the Jedi Order, suspecting his own eventual fall to the Darkside had he but cross the threshold that were the teachings of the Code. It was a conflict all of it's own in finally reaching a point of wanting to feel, wanting to prove that that compassion for her was something tangible and real, not blindsided by the restrictions of the Jedi. It was almost as if he were being forced to relive all those juvenile lessons, self restraint and knowing what was morale and what was not, having been so stoic in the path that he had followed and had ultimately failed both him and Kay.

[member="Darth Mephirium"] was not wrong in speaking of the trials ahead, or arguably that which he was already walking. Atrisia and then Kay's abduction had affected him greatly, it had taken much of his faith in the manner that he tried to serve the Force. A Peace Keeper he had always referred the Jedi too, those that should never seek to take a life but to protect it. He had been unable to stop what had happened to Kay and ever since she had put that blame on him, he had worn it like some dark cloud that bore over him as a reminder. The Darkside of the Force was malicious if left out of check, some could walk the line between yet Veiere yearned to keep to the light while too protecting himself from the ignorance he had portrayed in the past.

"War and conflict, you took to these things as if you had no other choice. I counselled you on the notion of diplomacy many a time yet you still seemed so intent to justify your need to fight...-How did you do that. Live with that kind of weight over you..." He was searching for some clue as to how to live with himself, though he spoke to Cyril, he spoke for the past images that often came with the past conflicts that he had taken up arms in. Mimban, Deneba, Atrisia among the more recent. "I want to help these people like I've helped many others yet I also want the blood of the man who wronged Kay and that...-That is not the way I was taught. That sort of thirst only leads to worse fates, even if I were to succeed...-The Consequence for such anger carries a ripple effect within the force around us and I wish not to delve into the Darkness as you had". This manner of speaking, he had not shared with Kay herself though he knew well that between he and Cyril, his friend would have understood the burden that he was carrying with him. Cyril had later become Mephirium, his character had been poisoned by the corrupting darkness and he had suffered all the way through to his inevitable end because of it. "I hold true to the ideals I've always had yet I'm not sure if they have a place in the weight of this Galaxy. Atrisia...-These people, this Dominion you speak of. Will they not want the same for their fallen as I want for Kay, recovery and retaliation...".

 

[Placeholder 04]

Ghostly fingers trailed along the crates that housed Cyril's belongings. The specter crouched over the gathering of items, his false eyes perusing through the contents. Most of the items were trophies or mementos; little of anything with significant importance to anyone beyond the spirit. Now, beyond the chains of a physical body, Cyril found that he hardly cared for such trinkets to begin with. His lips parted in a thin half smile as he looked over his shoulder toward Veiere.

"The last name. Their whole family is a bit infamous."

The smile shifted to something that seemed more predatory than anything else. "You're not just a Jedi Veiere. You're a human. A mortal. You have feeliings. If you ignore them, then you only hurt yourself," calloused fingers poked at one of the boxes, but they simply flowed through the metal. The specter could make no more physical activity with inanimate objects than he could with living beings. "Revenge is natural, but you shouldn't linger on it. You can't go off hunting this man, or you will become him. No, your paths will cross again Veiere, but nothing you do will make that time come any faster than when it has been fated."

Cyril turned upon the knight with a quite twist. "Your ideals are important, but they are just that: ideals. Be what you need to be Veiere. Be you. So long as you know who you are," it stepped forward, an eerie finger reaching out to poke at Veiere's chest. "You won't fall. Hold true to your duties and your values, then you will be the Jedi our people need you to be. The Jedi Kay needs you to be. Rely on others when you need them. Tell them your regrets, your pains, your loves. Share your feelings with your friends, and they will hold you accountable."

The ghost visibly flinched. "As for how I dealt with that...I had things to fight for. I had two small children that I would not let grow up in a galaxy embroiled in war. They were my anchor. Sith have nothing; if they ever relented from their path, they would realize that they have nothing - that they are truly alone. It's why they commit such atrocity. When faced with the harshness of reality and their decisions, they would rather experience monstrous and temporary sensations to hold off that cold understanding. It's why I never ceased to be myself. Emotion is not an evil thing; it strengthens us, but we must have anchors. Your lady is yours, and you were one of mine old friend."

The fallen master's visage began to flicker. "I cannot remain much longer Veiere. Give me time to recollect my energies, and I can return to you in the future. I do not know how many times I will be able to do so, but I will stave off my final exit as long as I can. Is there anything more you wished to ask of me before I go?"

[member="Veiere Arenais"]

 

[WolfMortum]

He nodded, having much to think on, the advice given from his friend would need time to sink in. "No, I understand..." He responded to [member="Darth Mephirium"]'s need to disperse for the time being, the Holocron wavering in the strength of energies needed to fuel the apparition. "It was good to speak to you again after such a time...-The path that I walk has earned me few friends though despite our differences, you were among them" He inhaled slowly, nodding twice more before rising from his seated position upon one of the other crates, getting to his feet and looking from the visage of Cyril to the Holocron that played him in all his recorded data. "Farewell for now my friend...-I will seek your guidance once more, once I have made contact with the people of Ession, and your son, Cedric has agreed to explore the flow of the Force alongside me". With a wave of his hand and a proud smile offered to the vision, Veiere recalled the Holocron towards him, the force flowing around him and carrying the small object swiftly into his palm, deactivating the transmitted memories of the fallen.

His breath left him in a huff of what sounded like exhaustion, though the next phase of his life, the next path that he would walk had only just begun to take form. Ession, it was a world he had never visited before and one that seemed to hold a surreal calling to him. He had only Cyril's word to go by and yet he found no reason to doubt them; call it instinct or something greater but more than this he felt compelled, as if there were a pull to fall in that direction, to discover for himself the state of these people, the future of the son of a man who meant to Veiere as a Brother would to any. "I trust you have found peace in the Force my friend..." he muttered under his breath before slipping the holocron into the inner pocket of his robe, turning to leave the room with a mechanical hiss of the doors.

Moving out to the Bridge of the great vessel, the gaze of several of the officers were drawn to him as Vikras Ansion noticed his presence and came walking to meet him, "All's quiet...-There's nothing out here at the moment, Veiere" the Admiral spoke quietly, a personal tone of voice, very informal as Veiere had always preferred between them. Vikras was another who held difference with Veiere, he had seen the Force but also seen how it could be used against the good of people and as those experiences stood out more so than that of any Jedi that had crossed him, he had learned to be entirely skeptical of all practitioners, especially in the present days where Veiere found himself so caught up by the situation around Lady Kay, so much so as to pull away from the Silver Jedi Order and their last recent charge, only having just found a place for themselves.

"Change of Plan..." Veiere replied rather matter of factly. It caused the Admirals expression to drop, the look given back was again one of great skepticism. "Set course for Ession, the Stygian Caldera...-There are people there that need us...", He placed a hand upon the Admirals shoulder in much the same fasion that Cyril had his own, a gesture of reassurance as Vikras seemed to gaze passed him, questioning exactly what he had seen back there in the command center that he himself hadn't seen coming up on the Comm's relay of the Chimaera. "Very well..." He spoke up reluctantly after a moment of silence, he wondered about much of Veiere's leads yet knew better than to question them in front of the men. Despite being the Admiral of the Vessel, Veiere remained the head of Command as was their agreement when Vikras joined the naval effort; "I shall inform the 501st, they will be at the ready should we need them upon our arrival...".

Without anything further to discuss, Veiere simply nodded in conclusion and moved across the bridge, walking the catwalk that separated two sides of the floor, dug out and playing host to the lieutenants and petty officers who managed the vessels primary systems. Beyond them, the head of security and the head of the engineering departments of the vessel kept everything in check and the crew as a whole set to work under the new information Vikras announced. The former Jedi however turning his attention to the front of the Stardestroyer, looking far out through the viewing platform, his eyes taking in the blanket of space, the stars suddenly blurring as the hyperdrive kicked into overtime, the capital ship making the jump and all that was black, becoming white as they surged through into an FTL Jump.