Private The Mother of Teeth

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Flickerfox - En route to Dathomir

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Ace sat in the pilot's seat, elbow braced against the console, fingers curled under his chin as the ship hummed steady around him. He wasn't looking at the stars. He was watching himself. In his free hand was his personal holoprojector and on it, a holo-recording hovered quietly.​

"You told me to reach out if I ever needed anything."​

There was a beat in the message. Not hesitation, but something more resigned.​

"Weirdly… I trust you. Meet me at these coordinates. I'll explain the rest when you get there."​

​

He'd already sent the transmission to Lorn hours back, but Ace had watched it back several times over. As if trying to remind himself that this was real, what he was planning, what he was about to do.

Ace let the transmission loop once more before he shut it off. The silence in the cockpit swallowed it whole. Beside him, Tic sat perched on the co-pilot's seat, head tilted ever so slightly. The droid didn't chirp. Just… watched him. His lips curved as he reached over to rub the top of the droid's head.

Outside the viewport, Dathomir loomed now. The nav screen showed the drop point; five clicks from the Weavewood. The more he drew near, the more hollow he felt. The trauma of what happened here kept him away, and he'd planned to never return. But... Vinorl's words echoed faintly, uninvited.

"You survived what happened there. But you have not stood on that ground as the person you've become."

The old Jedi was right, he'd never be able to fully heal without returning. Facing what he did and coming to terms with it.

The Flickerfox dropped through the cloud bank like a needle through silk. The hut came into view, just barely still standing. Vinorl's old place. It had only been a couple of months but it already looked weathered, forgotten.

Ace set the Fship down a dozen meters from the hut, the engines wound down with a soft hiss. He didn't move right away. Just sat in the silence. Then finally, he stepped down the ramp and into the open air. Tic followed close, soft whirring at his heels. He didn't need the Force to feel the gravity here. The planet remembered him.

He crossed the clearing, where a solitary patch of disturbed ground waited. It was half-swallowed by overgrowth, but still marked. A flat stone rested at its head. No name carved into it. No sigil. Just the grave he dug with his bare hands.

He knelt beside it slowly. Quietly. His prosthetic hovered for a moment, then pressed into the earth beside his real hand. Palms flat. Fingers curled into the dirt.

It was colder than he remembered. She was probably bones by now. The wind stirred the leaves above him. Ace closed his eyes. And waited.

Lorn Reingard​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

Lorn had almost ignored the incoming alert. His comms chirped so rarely these days that anything outside mission traffic felt foreign, intrusive. But the sender's ID froze him mid-step: Acier. The holo opened before he could think better of it. It was a message, personal and vulnerable in a way Lorn wasn't used to receiving.

He stood there, watching the transmission in silence. The kid's voice was steady, but the undercurrent felt familiar, too familiar. It was that quiet gravity people carried when they'd run out of roads except the hard one.

Lorn's answer was as inelegant as it was honest: a simple thumbs-up reaction, sent before he second-guessed himself. Hopefully, the kid understood him well enough by now. Words failed him more often than not, but a promise was a promise, and Lorn didn't break those.

The trip to Dathomir was uneventful, but the moment he stepped off the shuttle, the air shifted. It felt heavy. The Force here didn't hum, it brooded. He'd read about witches, clans, old wars, and stranger rites, yet nothing prepared him for the sensation of a world that watched. It was as though the ground itself remembered every wound it had swallowed.

Lorn let the reactions come and go without judgment. There was a quiet curiosity about why Ace had chosen this place, and a sharper thread of worry when he sensed the kid's presence nearby; it felt frayed at the edges, thinner than usual. Echoes of his own ghosts stirred, uninvited.

He found Ace kneeling before the grave, shoulders drawn tight, the droid keeping a silent vigil beside him. Lorn stopped several paces back, giving breath and space, letting the moment settle the way grief demanded. He remembered doing the same, kneeling at a mound of dirt with no marker, wondering how someone could vanish from the galaxy so completely.

He drew in a slow breath, then stepped closer, boots soft in the overgrowth. Only when he was beside him, close enough that Ace would know he wasn't alone, yet far enough to leave the choice of speaking, did Lorn finally let his voice break the quiet.

"Someone important to you?"

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Dathomir

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

He sensed him first, long before he even spoke. Lorn's presence was distinct, one he'd recognize in a crowded city. It was quiet, like a smoldering coal buried beneath cold ash. It didn't flare. It didn't announce itself. It just was, steady and unwavering. Familiar.

When Lorn finally broke the silence, Ace didn't respond immediately. His shoulders rose slightly before lowering in unison with a small exhale. The ashen-haired rebel didn't look at Lorn, eyes lingering on the unmarked grave.

"My mother." He said, trying to mask the traces of hurt in his voice.

Ace didn't elaborate, he merely rose to his feet and dusted off his hands. Then, turning to the older Jedi, he nodded and smiled faintly.

"Thanks for coming, Lorn. I know it was short notice and details were--" He trailed off, glancing away before catching himself. His eyes settled on Lorn again "Come on, I'll catch you up on the way."

His attention then turned toward the southern ridge, toward the ruins of Clan Vethrisa. But first, they needed to cross through the Weavewood's dense forest. Ace began to lead the way, with Tic following closely behind, keeping pace with both Ace and Lorn.

As they passed the familiar trees, the memory of the last time he was here echoed. Ines Pen-Ar-Lan beside him, and the unshakeable feeling he could rescue Orryn, but also the quiet fear of what if he couldn't? The memories didn't haunt him. Not anymore. But they still carried the dull ache of an old wound.

Ace was silent for a while, searching for the words that would come next. Lorn deserved an explanation, for everything. The Jedi had only met him once and still chose to come all the way to Dathomir, just to help him. Ace owed him greatly.

Finally, he sighed. Breaking the silence with no build-up or ceremony.

"I was born here. Dathomir." He paused, sequencing the next words in his head. "My mother was a witch. Clan Vethrisa. They thought I was some… prophecy thing. Whatever. I didn't grow up with them. She smuggled me offworld when I was a baby and left me on Bonadan To protect me.."

His gaze remained ahead, not out of shame or discomfort, but focus. As if he was looking at the story he was telling in real-time.

"Couple months back I started getting visions of her being tortured. Came back with someone who could help, and we actually got her out. But it was a setup."

Ace's jaw tightened at the words. The memory of his mother, watching her fade in his arms - his first time meeting her, and she was gone just like that.

"The Clan Mother killed my mom in front of me. To sever my ties. And I… lost it. Wiped out most of them before my friend stopped me from killing their young." Shame could be heard in his voice following that last part.

Tic trilled sorrowfully, as if he too was reliving the memory. Ace glanced at the small droid, offering him a faint smile, before gently closing his eyes and centering himself again.

"Spent a lot of time hating myself. I'm past it, but I haven't forgotten." He said, finally facing Lorn "I'm here to come to terms. Maybe get some closure. I don't know."

Then he stopped, just for a moment, standing in place. A faint half-smile tugged at the corner of his lip.

"I guess I didn't want to do it alone. So, thank you. Again."

Lorn Reingard ​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

Lorn walked beside him without rushing or breaking the quiet Ace seemed to need. The forest pressed around them, with twisted trunks, old roots, and long shadows, yet none of it felt hostile. It felt calming, a stark contrast to the immense weight Ace carried. Lorn recognized painful things in him, like reading his own scars on someone else's skin.

Silence suited him. It always had. Ala filled every gap with sunshine, and Bastila talked because the alternatives scared her. But Ace didn't demand anything. Lorn could simply be what he was built for: steady, present, unintrusive. The kind of support that didn't need announcing.

When the kid began to speak, Lorn didn't look at him. He kept his eyes ahead, on the path, making space for the words to land however they needed to. But each one hit harder than the last: born here, visions, his mother, torture. A rescue that wasn't one, a death in his arms, a massacre fueled by grief and horror and something no one his age should've ever had to face.

It twisted something sharp in Lorn's chest. The feeling was far too familiar.

He waited until Ace finished. When the sigh settled, and gratitude softened the edge of everything else, only then did he answer, quiet but deliberate.

"You don't owe me thanks. I told you I'd come when you needed me." His voice was steady, though he felt the fracture running beneath it. "I meant that on Naboo. I mean it now. If you reach out, I'll be there. Wherever it is. Whatever it costs."

The path narrowed, forcing them closer. Leaves brushed their shoulders as they passed.

"Closure's good," he added, slower. "That shows more bravery than most people can manage, more than I ever did."

Lorn forced himself to continue, even though the words felt like pulling an old blade from an unhealed wound.

"I was captured once," he said. "A long time ago. My master's homeworld. We lost a war there, and they wanted to make sure the warriors who survived remembered it."

He exhaled through his nose, controlled and composed.

"They put us in an arena. Made us fight each other. Promised to spare whoever was left standing."

The memory rose: sand soaked dark, faces he'd loved twisted by fear. He kept walking.

"I survived. They didn't. I've never forgiven myself. Never gone back. Never looked at that ground as the person I am now."

He turned his head just enough for Ace to see the truth of it.

"So in my eyes? You're already doing better than I ever did."

His tone held no pity, just quiet, sincere, and hard-earned respect.

"If you want to face this," Lorn said, "you won't be doing it alone."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Dathomir

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Ace listened as Lorn spoke, eyes on the forest ahead, letting the words settle like in his chest. Lorn's story didn't hit like a revelation. It hit like something known. Something that had lived in the background of the man's presence from the moment they met.

When the older Jedi finally finished, Ace nodded once, slow and thoughtful.

"I..." He said, eyes lowering, searching for... whatever to say. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

He glanced sideways, just enough to meet Lorn's eyes for a moment.

"Carrying something like that's not easy. Talking about it's worse. So... thanks, for trusting me with it." There was no pity in his voice. No awe. Just a mutual, quiet understanding.

He looked forward again. "You said I'm doing better than you did." His lips twitched into a faint smile. "I think both of us still standing. Walking. Says a lot."

Then it all clicked for him. The reason why he felt easy with Lorn was because they were mirrors. The two men spoke the same language of pain, they didn't let it drown them, they simply carried it like scars. It was a fast bond built on wounds and will.

Ace's attention turned forward again, the trees parting slightly ahead. Without saying anything else, he continued on. They were getting close now, and with it... he sensed something. Something he hadn't sensed the last time.

He felt it first in the air - a cold that clung like icewater, seeping through fabric, skin, and even into the seams of his prosthetic. His metal fingers twitched, unbidden. But the chill was only the surface.

Beneath it pulsed something worse. Rage. Grief. Fear. Pain. It was all there, layered and heavy, screaming just beneath the silence, so loud it buzzed at the edge of his senses.

The Force's threads trembled, vibrating like the strands of a spider's web when prey makes the wrong move. Except this time, the tremor wasn't from prey... it was everything. The cold. The sorrow. The violence. It all echoed through the weave like a warning. Or a call. The closer they drew, the deeper it sank into him.

Ace didn't slow, but he glanced toward Lorn, just to see if he felt it too. "Do you feel that?"

---

The pair finally arrived at the ruins of Clan Vethrisa's village. The site of his massacre. His rage incarnate. Ace grimaced at the sight, subtly, but maybe Lorn would pick up on it. If not, he'd sense traces of grief ripple in the Force.

This was the heart of it. The darkness he felt earlier, it originated here. Then it made sense, this was a nexus. A dark side nexus. Memories of Teth flashed in his mind briefly before he centered himself again.

The realization hit him like a hammer. This nexus... he'd created it... when he slaughtered the witches of Vethrisa.

A voice cut through the silence. Old, raspy like bone dragged across stone.

"You have returned. And you have brought a witness."

Ace turned, and what stood before them was a Dathomiri woman. She was small, hunched, wrapped in dark, tattered layers that seemed spun from bark and fog. Her long white hair hung like dying threads, catching the dim light in tangled strands. But it was her eyes, burning violet, glowing soft like embers in ash.

The Force reacted before Ace did. Not with panic, but tension. He felt it coil around her like a thousand silent voices whispering in reverse, like the weave itself had learned to rot.

The woman, whoever she was, didn't ask who he was. She already knew...

Lorn Reingard​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

Lorn didn't flinch at Ace's apology. He just let it wash over him, quiet and sincere.

"Carrying it is the cost," he murmured. "Living with it is the work." This wasn't a sermon or a grand doctrine; it was just something he'd learned the hard way.

They walked on, and the shift in the air hit him like stepping into another climate entirely. The cold crept in first, subtle and needling, followed by the deep undercurrent: rage, grief, and the raw edges of terror that hadn't had time to fade into memory. The Force around them felt bruised.

Ace glanced at him, and Lorn simply nodded once. "I feel it." He didn't elaborate or explain. This wasn't his place to name or diagnose.

As they crested the final rise and the ruins came into view, Lorn slowed. The remnants of Clan Vethrisa lay like a wound reopened. Structures were half-collapsed, and charred beams jutted like broken bone. The air here was thick and stagnant, heavy with the residue of violence so absolute it had bent the Force into a new shape around it.

Ace grimaced. Lorn felt the spike of grief ripple off him like a sharply caught breath. He didn't speak or reach out. Sometimes presence was the only right offering. He was scanning the ruins, reading the scars in the soil and the dark warp in the weave, when the voice cut through the clearing. It was old, brittle, and wrong.

Lorn turned sharply, his hand drifting toward his saber but not igniting it. The witch stood half-shrouded, small and bent, yet the Force coiled around her like smoke fed by something rotten. Her eyes fixed on Ace, then on him, and the oppressive weight behind her gaze prickled the edges of his senses.

Lorn stepped forward just enough to put himself half a stride between the witch and Ace. The move was subtle, instinctive, and protective. His stance lowered, his breath even, every line of his body ready without looking eager. He didn't speak or threaten. He simply watched her with the silence of someone who had survived monsters before, already calculating what it would take to survive one more.