Populate The Legend of Set and Veré | THR Populate of Quila & Farstine

[Pillar of Freedom]

The Legend of Set and Verè lies at the heart of the Shirayan religion, an enduring myth whispered through generations on Naboo. With the recent emergence of the Order of Shiraya, the tale has taken on new significance, not only spiritually but politically, threading its way into the cultural consciousness of the people.

Now, Dr. Tavren Harrex (NPC) of Theed University leads an archaeological dig on a newly discovered world, unearthed along the proposed route of the Five Veils Trade Route. Among the ruins, references to the Set and Verè myth have surfaced, though twisted, darkened, and incomplete. The Jedi who initially discovered the world reported it as strongly attuned to the Dark Side of the Force.

To mitigate the risk of corruption, only a non–Force-sensitive dig team has been sanctioned for work near the deepest parts of the Temple site. The Jedi, meanwhile, have been assigned to explore and catalogue the rest of the Sith world now designated Katabasis.

OOC Note: This storyline marks a pivot point for the Jedi of the High Republic, while offering opportunities for non–Force user characters as well.

Bran will run the thread, with 4–5 key posts from Dr. Harrex that will alter the board upon which your characters play. The sands will shift beneath your feet.

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Jedi and Scholars investigate the mysterious world of Katabasis in an attempt to understand its dangers and convince the committee overseeing the Five Veils Trade Route to steer the path of their hyperspace lane somewhere else.

The following locations are open to investigation, or slice of life roleplay with a hint of the ominous. When Harrex’s posts go up, your destiny will change.

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Whispers of ancient Sith echo from the pit known as the Hollow Gate. Cracked, faceless statues ring the sinkhole, as if in silent vigil. Discover its secrets. Prepare a report on the danger this place poses to future travelers.

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The ruinous Black Spiral appears as a weathered fortress, the terminus of a dark side leyline stretching from the Temple of Broken Chains. Explore its shattered halls. Catalogue its secrets. Discover who once called this forsaken place home.

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This is the primary dig site. Jedi are permitted to investigate the surface-level ruins. But a strict perimeter prevents Force users from venturing deeper.

Within the temple walls, you may glimpse visions. Hear echoes. Feel the tug of something that watches, and waits. Even after leaving Katabasis…the feeling lingers.

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Please note this objective is reserved for the NPC team written on this subaccount, and will give events to which people can react.

Beyond the temple’s secure perimeter lies the Heart of Descent, a sealed chamber that no Force-sensitive may enter.

What the Heart wants…is to be free.

Dr. Harrex leads the non-Jedi dig team here, working tirelessly to unravel its nature, and to uncover its connection to Naboo. While reports come from his team, and volunteers on Naboo. The deeper he digs, the more the Force begins to…ripple.

Only Dr. Harrex's NPC team is permitted to work in this area. When you see this banner in the thread, it is introducing a change to the setting.


Meanwhile…

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Far from Katabasis, scholars in Naboo’s ancient archives research the myth of Set and Verè, now laced with new meaning. Anyone with a curious mind may join. If you can justify your character’s presence, you’re welcome.

• With each post, include a d20 dice roll.
• At each of Dr. Harrex’s updates from the Heart of Descent, Bran will review the results.
• The best roll will see that character unlock the next piece of the lore puzzle.

But beware. The pace of discovery will not remain leisurely.

 

[Ala Quin]

This was not Ala's first time on Katabasis. Her report to the Order was that which stirred this action. Katabasis was a creepy place, that was for certain. But Ala brought her normal positive disposition to the gloom.

"You know...with the amount of chills this place gives me," she said to no one and everyone, "the humidity is mostly offset."

The Temple of Broken Chains was abuzz with activity. Young interns dusted and noted items of interest. Every groove or rut in a pillar was carefully examined to see if it could have once been a carving for a rune.

Ala was simply tasked with making sure that no Jedi went further than the rudimentary barricade that was set up just behind her. It was a somewhat thankless job, but it was also less creepy than visiting some of the other locations she has seen on Katabasis.

Her eyes fell on the stone altar at the heart of the circular chamber. It was not in the middle, more off to the side, but a worn channel ran from the altar to a central pattern. She understood what it was for. And it made her shudder. Sacrifices.

"Do you think...they actually...killed people in this room?" She said, and in that moment - as if answering her - a chill breeze brushed her neck.

Ala spun about on her heels, glancing down the darkened hallway. Lights from the work crew beyond the barrier flickered, but nothing had changed. Still. Ala felt colder now.

| Outfit: xxx | Tag: Lorn Reingard | Equipment: Two short-blade yellow lightsabers |​

 

[Kellan Jericho]

Kyric ​

Something called to him. Not necessarily to the point of obsession, but its pull was strong enough to convince the recently-benched Jedi Knight to volunteer for the task at hand. It had only been several months since his return to Naboo, and reinstatement back into the ranks of the world he once knew as home. Awkward interactions became far too common given the adjustments he'd made to better fit in with those from the Core, with those now common quirks making him stand out like the sore thumb he was around the Order centered upon Naboo's foundations.

Luckily for him, he wasn't the only oddball out on the crew.

Kellan was accompanying another who didn't quite fit-in, but had made himself home there nonetheless. Kyric was an interesting one, and while the two hadn't really spoke prior to this assignment, he had a feeling he'd scored a solid partner to watch his back once they touched down at the fortress. Kellan had seen war during his time with the Galactic Republic. It wasn't anything compared to the Great Hyperspace Wars of the past, but conflict was conflict, no matter the time it existed.

He'd done things in the name of good, despite his conscious telling him a few of those things were bad. Tough decisions would never ask you for permission before they jumped in your lap, and the tempo of war didn't wait for anyone. He'd served his time and came back a Jedi who no longer believed fully in his teachings. He questioned them, and the disagreements with the Council would lead to his exit from the Core, to that familiar world that used to be home. To a new start, where perhaps he'd be able to break down who he once was and build up to someone who just might be a little better.

...Thunk​

The shuttle carrying the Jedi ungraciously made contact with dirt beneath it, knocking Kellan out of the slumber that had kept him busy for most of the trip there. He blinked until his eyes no longer wished to remain hazed, yawning quietly as he rose to his feet in preparation to exit the shuttle. Kellan stepped out first, one arm shielding his eyes from the dust circulating through the air as he walked down the ramp. Black spires foreshadowed their arrival, each one of them large enough to cut through the haze of dust that otherwise drowned out everything from sight.

"..You uhh', wouldn't happen to have experience with exploring foreboding temples that may or may not be steeped in the Dark Side of the Force?" Kellan would yell over his shoulder, his voice just audible enough over the idle roar of the shuttle's engines. Kellan would take the lead as the two made their way towards the fortress, keeping an eye on their surrounding whenever the dust allowed him a chance to see. His lightsaber dangled at his waist for now, though he'd suspected the two would require their weapons at some point, the closest they got to the fortress.

 

[Kyric]

A malign darkness breached the confines of the shuttle long before it ever touched down near the Spiral. It infected the air with a nascent chill. The cold dug into Kyric like little ethereal fingers, digging deeper and deeper the closer the ship drew to their intended target. He absently tightened his bandages and turned his attention from distant memories back to the present; to the dangers presented amid the corridors of this ancient fortress. Constructed on a leyline of corrupted power, the Black Spiral promised unknown risk; secrets bound in place by time, forgotten to all but the good doctor who informed the Order of its location awaited them.

The presence of another marred by war's bloody blade stood across from the kiffar in the dropship.

While Kyric wasn't familiar with the Jedi Knight, he suspected the two had more in common than most Kyric met since his arrival to the Order's headquarters on Theed.

Kellan oozed the same quiet trepidations that kept the Tengu trapped at bay behind Kyric's single cerulean eye. Danger followed his partner like a shadow. The scent of blood wafted off of him, carried on psychic threads that connected the two Jedi directly to Kyric. But could he judge Kellan? Would he if he could? In his heart of hearts, Kyric knew the feeling of standing at the precipice of the void. The way it burrowed it into your heart and drove you to make the hardest choices in an effort to uphold lofty—often impossible—ideals.

It broke lesser Jedi.

Thunk.

Touchdown signaled the start of their mission. Kyric lifted his sheathed weapon from the seat beside him as he stood and quickly reattached it to his hip. He followed Kellan out from the shuttle, good-eye squinting through the dust cloud kicked up by the descending ship. The knife-like Spires loomed overhead like a great beast poised to strike. It sent shivers down the kiffar's spine.

"..You uhh', wouldn't happen to have experience with exploring foreboding temples that may or may not be steeped in the Dark Side of the Force?"

Kyric chuckled at that. "Can't say I do, Hoss. Closest I got is an attack on Dromuund Kaas two years back. The techno-forests and sithspit spirits hauntin' the place gave it a similar vibe, I s'ppose." His wrist fell to rest on the hilt of his blade as they moved closer to the Spire. "What about you?"

On their approach, Kyric felt the leyline thrum beneath them not unlike an artery. It sent another wave of negativity pulsing out around the Jedi. In answer, the kiffar suffused his will into a gleaming wisp of silver-blue light that cast an aura of warmth over the pair. The creeping darkness now kept at bay could do nothing more but scratch uselessly at the light.

---

Tags: Kellan Jericho

 

[Kellan Jericho]

Kyric ​

"Hmmmm." Kellan pondered on the question for a bit too long than was necessary as the two continued their trek forwards, carving a path across the rocky terrain until they'd eventually reached the threshold of their target. "Can't say I've had much experience either..." While his words were carried with seemingly good faith, to the discerning eye there were clear signs of a bit of deception behind the veil. Whether it was those eyes which tracked every minute detail down to his periphery, or the careful steps that danced rhythmically across the dirt in a pattern most effective for avoiding pressure-induced obstacles. Kellan knew a little bit more than he was willing to put on, but so far he was keeping his cards close to his chest.

"...Officially, anyway." The words were half-hearted, almost an afterthought to the imminence that thrummed with power as the Jedi approached. Had it not been so dark and gloomy -- and pulsing with the dark side, for that matter -- it would have even been correct to call it awe-inspiring in scale. Kellan couldn't help but wonder if the place had a history before it had been corrupted and allowed to become a decrepit beacon to the dark.

Perhaps that was part of the reason the force had willed him to journey there in the first place? Secrets were often accompanying those places which dwelled in the dark. He'd learned a few things over the years by then, and in his experience it was wise to avoid them at all costs. His philosophy had changed though in the recent years. Sometimes the force beckoned for you to follow it into the darkest parts of the galaxy when it needed you most.

Luckily for the Jedi, there wasn't any secret codes or hidden levers necessary to enter the fortress. Where once proud gates must've stood, a bleak portal into the oblivion was all that was left. He looked over to Kyric before either one of them entered first. "Think this is the part where we hope what's been dead, remains that way for a good while longer." It was meant to be a joke, a bit of dark humor to ease the burden of himself entering the fortress first. He disappeared into the darkness, only for the blade of his lightsaber to exude its radiance all around him as he raised it up in the air. A Jedi's weapon was a tool, and an improvised source of light for moments like these.

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Lorn stood rigid near the chamber's edge, arms crossed tight, his gaze fixed and unlinking.

He'd barely stepped a few paces into the Temple of Broken Chains, but already his stomach felt like a knot of coiled wire, tightening with every shallow breath. The air itself reeked of ash and mold, yes, but also something far older, something like memory left out too long in the sun. A ruined, forgotten thing.

Ala's voice barely cut through the haze, muffled, like someone calling to him through thick glass.

"Do you think… they actually… killed people in this room?"

He blinked, the movement slow and heavy, as his gaze drifted past a collapsed archway. It settled on the dark channel carved into the stone floor, leading straight to the altar. It looked… hungry.

"They didn't build this place for flower arrangements," Lorn muttered.

His voice was quiet, almost absent. But it held that frayed edge, the one that appeared more often since Mirater. A soft wind curled through the temple, and then, distinct as a whisper right by his ear: Lorn.

He froze, every muscle locking. Lorn. The whisper came again, undeniable. He turned toward the sound instinctively, almost hopeful, idiot. Of course it wasn't her. Of course it wasn't any of them. He knew better.

His eyes found only the absolute dark of the hallway ahead, and the impatient flicker of their work lights further down. But still… that voice. It wasn't just in his head. No, not exactly. It had known his name.

Lorn let out a slow, ragged breath through his nose, rubbing the bridge of it with two fingers, as if he could simply wipe away the temple, wipe away the dread.

"We shouldn't stay long," he told Ala, finally dragging his gaze to meet hers. His eyes were heavy, shadowed. "I know we're not allowed past the barricade, but that line in the sand won't mean a damn thing if this place decides it wants us."

Then he turned away, muttering, more to himself than anyone. "I hate this place."

Ala Quin​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Naboo's ancient archives
Theed |Naboo
Dominique Vexx​

The scent of old flimsiplast and dried lake blossoms lingered in the air.

Sibylla stood in one of the quieter wings of the Royal Archives, where the whispers of Naboo's past drifted like netherghosts between the shelves. Her fingers hovered over the spine of a faded folio bound in deep indigo Ikopi hide, the Naboo crest gently embossed into its surface. The script shimmered faintly in Aurebesh, 'The Song of Vere's Bloom.'

She hadn't meant to linger, not with Assembly sessions looming like Trade Federation ships on the horizon. But the tale had burrowed deep.

"Set and Vere." Sibylla whispered the names beneath her breath like they might answer her.

The story had always been told in gentle tones; of lovers separated by stars, by duty, by fate. But the tale had hooked itself into her ribs the moment her mother mentioned it offhand, over spiced caf and tucked in between political updates and vineyard reports. A dig site was discovered on a newly charted world Katabasis along the proposed Five Veils Trade Route. Jedi reports speaking of ruins steeped in the Dark Side.

And in those ruins, potentially the twisted echoes of the myth of Set and Vere.

Sibylla breathed out slowly, eyes tracing the delicate Naboo calligraphy as if it might reshape the aching truth beneath her chest. The legend had always been sung at festivals and in the marble halls of Theed: two lovers, torn apart by duty, bound by stars. But the fragments now recovered now hinted at a different story. A shadowed one.

Vere, the light that burned too brightly.

Set, the guardian who could not let go.

They weren't just tragic lovers anymore. They were symbols warped by time, drawn through the hyperspace lanes of belief and political utility, now seized by the Order of Shiraya as gospel. And maybe that mattered to the Assembly. But for Sibylla it was personal.

Because love and sacrifice weren't abstractions anymore. They had names. And in Lysander von Ascania , they wore a familiar voice in half misted memories that still clung with the acrid scent of blasterfire and earthy dungeons, tangled in a haze of a whispered confession that still made her heart ache.

Her hand closed around the edge of the folio.

"What is the truth?" she murmured, gaze lifting to the ancient skylight above, where a faint shaft of Naboo's daylight filtered through like a spotlight from the heavens.

She needed to understand. To learn. To perhaps find within it a path that could see a solution without such a tragic an ending like that of Shiraya, the Moon Goddess, and Aditya, God of the Sun.

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

- derp because my die didn’t roll.

 

[Kyric]

Kyric suspected Kellan wasn't being entirely honest in his answer. Be it the confidence with which he marched through the shaded lands or perhaps the way the human scouted their surroundings with the expertise of a top-of-the-line probe droid. No amount of training provided that level of insight; even the best circumstances with the most exceptional of masters paled in comparison to the real deal. And from Kellan's gait, it was evident he had experience in spades.

Even under the protection of the tiny orb of force light, Kyric found the ever-growing Spire foreboding. For something so large to have existed for so long, seemingly untouched by the greater galaxy, struck the kiffar as odd. He knew firsthand the strength of a proper seer.

Jedi Master Henna Ashina's farsight pierced not only time and space, but even the machinations of the Dark Side. Few places in the galaxy escaped the cumulative abilities bestowed upon her by the line of Seers before her. And Kyric knew others were out there; those capable of witnessing the unseen and deciphering the unwritten.

Was this place truly so powerful?

Kyric approached the vast threshold of the spire and stared into oblivion. His gaze hardened, his single-eye tracking unseen threats he imagined waiting for them just beyond the entrance.

"Knowin' my luck, we're walkin' into a den o' darkness so vile we'll be lucky to make it out alive." Kyric stepped in after Kellan and motioned lazily with his hand. The orb of force light drifted nearby his head and twinkled faintly. It provided a small radius of perfect vision for maybe fifteen feet around the kiffar, but that only served to highlight the vast sea of darkness waiting to crush down upon them. The void reached for them, pushed back faintly with each step, yet never so far out of reach to truly release the two Jedi.

The stones beneath their feet were practically stained black by the shadows. Whatever material the corridors were carved from hadn't eroded in the slightest in all this time, and each sconce they passed bolted to the wall bore not an inkling of rust. Everything Kyric saw pointed to continued maintenance. But that didn't feel right. Nothing sane could've survived beneath the corrupting shadow of the Black Spiral. And anything he pictured with the know-how to do so probably didn't care much for fortress-wide maintenance.

Kyric peered down an adjoining corridor to little effect, so he shifted his focus back to his companion.

"Not to pry, but I'm curious what it was 'bout this assignment that caught yer fancy, Kellan. Not that I don't like deep divin' into Sith ruins as much as the next feller'. You just strike me as the type with intent. Somethin' more than the Force pushin' you along."

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Tags: Kellan Jericho
Honorable Mentions: Henna Ashina

 

[Michael Angellus]

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Journal Entry:
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Whispers of ancient Sith echo from the pit known as the Hollow Gate. Cracked, faceless statues ring the sinkhole, as if in silent vigil. Discover its secrets. Prepare a report on the danger this place poses to future travelers.

“We unearth the past not for glory, but for warning. Katabasis does not want to be remembered.”
– Dr. Tavren Harrex, Field Journal Entry 8

That is the details of the specifics of my orders. Yeah, I’m confused too. My orders were to land and investigate a pit. I get it though, it’s not my job to make sense of it, at least not yet, it’s my job to carry out orders right now. Like Rojuhr Pouihl would say “Do what they say until they do what you say”.
The air over Katabasis stank of copper and lightning. Ash-choked wind dragged itself across the plains, hissing through dead grass and jagged basalt spires that littered the land like a broken crown.

I have seen my share of ghost worlds in a relatively short amount of time. This one didn’t feel dead—it felt asleep. And I’d just stepped into its dream. The Long Gaze, a diplomatic long-range survey cruiser, touched down with a soft tremor on the windswept plateau the dig team had codenamed Sanctum Mesa. I was in an escort and landed nearby.

The Jedi had arrived days earlier to secure the site and verify Force saturation.

Their report? “Cautiously corruptive.”

I didn’t need the Force to feel that.

I stepped out of my fighter, helmet clipped to my belt, a sidearm holstered and his eyes drawn toward the horizon. I had my lightsaber, which made me stick out a lot more than I wanted to. BRED—my BB-unit astromech—followed in tight formation, letting out a low whistle of disapproval. As usual.

BOOEPPP [This place is wrong. Rocks shouldn’t hum.]

I heard him, but was more focused on what I was looking at as I crouched, pressing gloved fingers to the blackened soil. The vibration was subtle. Not seismic. Rhythmic. Like something buried was... breathing.

In the distance, the pit called the Hollow Gate yawned against the sunless sky. A sinkhole larger than a capital ship, ringed by faceless statues whose features had been erased not by erosion, but by intention. Silent. Watchful. Waiting.

Some scientist, no doubt an assistant to Dr. Tavren Harrex approached from a nearby scaffolding, kicking up a cloud of dust. “Lieutenant Angellus,” he greeted, offering a datapad.

“We've cataloged three more inscriptions at the outer ring. They reference a path to something called the 'Sky’s End'—a threshold said to be opened only when the stars fall in line.”

I received the pad. Glyphs scrolled across the screen—some Naboo in origin, others unmistakably Sith. I did not want to interrupt him just yet, I needed to mentally note everything he said so I could report to Lt. Havrin, my immediate boss here, at least until someone from Bravo shows up.

... And you still want to build a trade route over this?] I couldn’t help but mutter. I know what I overheard, and it wasn’t much.

Idinit (the scientist) smirked, more tired than amused. “That’s for the committee to decide. Our job is to show them the cost.”

My gaze drifted toward the Hollow Gate again. I am sorry to correct you, but I am a Flight Officer, my immediate supervisor is Lt. Havrin. Let me call him over. Idinit didn’t seem to happy to be made a fool of, but there weren’t many of us here, and I am an officer. I could know. That being said, the shadows between the statues around the gate seemed longer than they should’ve been.

AOOOO [Report on the danger,] BRED buzzed. One great thing about him, he knew decorum. He never changed his personality, but he could be professional without me having to tell him. BEEEOOOP [I vote we label it: ‘maximum.' With a footnote: ‘run.’]

I smiled even if it was thin, but the humor didn’t last. I felt it then, the same thing—like a ripple across his chestplate. A memory that wasn’t his own. Fear.

I then straightened up, eyes narrowing. Put me down for recon.

OOOAH [What? You’re including me in this, aren’t you?]

Idinit blinked. “You’re not cleared to enter the Hollow Gate, Angellus.”

“I agree”. Lt. Havrin finally made his way over.

I didn’t mean to, but ignored him, clipped the datapad to my belt, and walked toward the edge of the plateau.

No one is, I said, trying to be respectful. But I didn’t come here to look at ghosts.

The Whisperer wasn’t made for landings like this. The Naboo-designed scout shuttle was sleek, diplomatic, meant for observation—not spelunking into ancient wounds carved by Sith hands. I don’t think my fighter would hold either, but there was the ‘Raven’ dropship nearby. I knew how to fly that thing like the back of my hand and the loading ramp was open.

BOOUUUP [Are you crazy? You’re going to get in more trouble than you are now!]

Then I’ll pull the “Name on the building” card… or use another “Pouihl” card…

AUGHuuuu [You’re trying to sabotage yourself.]

Normally I would play up this little banter of ours, but I didn’t have time. I’m really not, I can’t put my finger on it, but there is something down there I need to get to.

OOOOAP [This is a “Jedi” thing isn’t it?]

I get what you’re saying, but wouldn’t they already be going down there?

By this time, we were in the dropship and I eased into the cockpit. I keyed in the repulsor alignment override, glanced once to BRED as he plugged into the auxiliary slot behind me and closed the ramp.

OOOOAUUUH [Warning: Shuttle descent path is classified as ‘inadvisable,’ ‘not ideal,’ and ‘profoundly stupid.’ Also, this ship was due for calibration six weeks ago.]

I could only smirk. I’ll log that under ‘atmosphere of mutual trust.’ Hold tight. With a subtle whine of the engines, I got the dropship to be lifted from the mesa. Stone gave way to shadow as he rotated the ship over the edge of the Hollow Gate.


The pit yawned beneath them, deeper than sensors had predicted. Wind howled through the ring of eroded statues, carrying with it the scent of ozone, sulfur—and something older.

Something buried.

As we began our descent, the light above dimmed, swallowed by the stone throat of the world. On the display, strange magnetic pulses began flickering across the diagnostics.

BaaOOOP [This is new. And bad. Definitely bad.]

I see it. Pulling back easy off the stick, descending slowly I kept us at a consistent hover.

The rock walls spiraled around them in twisted patterns—too precise to be natural. Carvings lined the stone in ancient Sith script. Some flickered with residual energy, as if half-awake. As if remembering.

Fifty meters down. Then a hundred.

That’s when the turbulence hit.

The ship shuddered, lurching sideways. Alarms screamed—nonphysical impact. No debris. No contact. Just… pressure.

This was annoying, and when I’m annoyed I grit my teeth, gripping the controls as the ship was shoved violently by an unseen force. The sound inside the cockpit warped, muffled like someone had thrown a blanket over reality.Then—

Silence.

Open Tags

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Brandyn Sal-Soren​

Ear pods were in the Sithling's ear, blasting off music that, would anyone ever know she listened to, would make them question her very existence. Despite all the changes and tumbles she had gone through in her less than fifteen years of existence, her taste in music remained one of the few things she was still shy about. It was hers. Secret. Soft. Which was why this location was perfect for indulging in it as she walked, looking through the fortress.

Once, the place probably had a name. Heck, everything probably did, once. This one though… She chuckled under her breath. Ancient ruins were nothing strange to her, but something here was different. The first thing she'd noticed was the scent. Or rather, the lack of it. There was no blood. Not in the air. Not in the stone. Not even in memory. Just void. She hated it. And then there was the issue of needing a mask to breathe properly. She hated things on her face. But she also hated not finding what she was looking for, so, y'know. Life was all about hard choices.

That was why she'd come here, after all. She was looking for something. Not an artifact, not a person. Just… something. A tug in the Force she hadn't been able to ignore, like a thread snagged on her ribs. It might've started after Denon. After the vocalist. She wasn't sure. She hadn't told anyone.

The music in her ears skipped a beat. Glitched. She frowned, tapped the pod, and then paused.

It hadn't been a glitch. The melody had shifted for a single breath, sliding from soft strings into… a hum. Male. Almost familiar. Almost wrong.

And then her music returned. But the Force still buzzed through her like exposed nerves, scraping against something sharp and oily. It was calling to her, filling her senses, blinding her to the fact that she wasn't alone. But Scherezade didn't notice the shifting echoes behind her, the flickers in the haze, or the footprints that hadn't been hers.

The fortress was old.

She was alone.

Of course she was.