The Mystery of Light

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

"There are two kinds of light — the glow that illumines, and the glare that obscures."​

- James Thurber​

The small Corellian ship skimmed over the tops of the forest canopy.

The ancient Massassi temple blended into the foliage. Too much speed, the wrong approach vector, and it was easy to overfly the Jedi Academy on Yavin's moon. Even when you knew where to look, it could still fool the eyes at any altitude above the thick jungle that surrounded it. The ageless foundation -- the stone weathered, chipped, and overgrown with vines -- seemed to be part of the planet itself. As if the temple were just another mountain or tree. And, yet, that wasn't to say that the structure wasn't impressive.

Intimidating would have been a more apt word, in fact.

The work of the Ancient Sith stonecutters, masons, and architects radiated a kind of power or majesty. Thousands of years since its construction, the Massassi temple still commanded a certain respect through nothing other than the sheer presence of being it possessed. It was nothing so ordinary as a foreign attraction which might attract the eye of a tourist, it commanded attention.

And, yet, for all the work of the Dark Side which had been wrought on this moon... there was no shadow. No aura of mal intent. The work of the Massassi remained, a testament to their artistry and greatness. But the presence of the Massassi, of the Sith that had practiced their alchemy and sorcery there, was not to be found. Gone, as if the presence of the Dark Side had been banished into the wind.

How the Jedi had managed that was a mystery that the Anzat would have very much liked to know.

The child-knight's small freighter circled over the landing clearing, before disappearing into the mouth of the Massassi icon. The landing struts glided over the deck of the hangar bay, as the small Corellian guided the YT-series jalopy over to an available parking spot.

The question that had concerned the boy on the way into the landing pattern wasn't entirely academic. As the loading ramp lowered to the ground, the green robed Jedi emerged holding a relic.

A ceramic funerary pot.

Except, he wasn't holding it with his hands. He wouldn't hold it in his hands. He'd picked it up when he'd first seen it at the market on Mundderr and quickly learned his lesson for the experience.

It seemed quite old, and the art work on the exterior seemed quite interesting... if he could manipulate it enough for some restoration work. The problem was there was a palpable aura of the Dark Side of the Force around this pot. To avoid coming into contact with that again, the diminutive Anzat was holding the pot at arm's length telekinetically.

Having arrived at this far-flung time from his own, the boy had quickly lapsed back into old, familiar habits. He taught history. He taught telepathy. Always trying to find the educational value in everything, and ensure that the lesson was impressed on those to whom it was best intended.

Perhaps it was time to set aside what he thought he knew, and to return to the role of the student.

[member="Ilias Nytrau"]​

 

[Ilias Nytrau]

Yavin IV was becoming a second home to the young half-K'paur after his cabin on Laekia, and it was a home that felt as natural as breathing. No matter the location, the climate, the surrounding landscape, a Jedi Temple was home more than anything else. He had been raised in one, after all, within the ecumenopolis of Coruscant in the decades leading up to the Clone Wars and had connected with other active temples in the intervening centuries. This was not his first time taking up residence on the jungle moon, and it was not likely to be the last.

He was expecting an arrival, as he so often was no matter where his feet made ground, and had went to the hangar bay to meet the young boy that emerged with the funerary pot. He did not need to come close to confirm the presence attached to the piece, for he could 'smell' it from the cavity in which he stood that led off to the rest of the temple, and could feel the depth of its pull as he always would with such things soaked in the Dark.

"I have seen others not think to use telekinesis with such objects," he said, commenting on the method the Anzat employed to carry the pot, "unfortunate as that is... Knight Xantha, was it?"

Not that he needed to ask, but for social protocol. Some were uncomfortable with the brunt of his retained personal knowledge, and he did his utmost to not let that leak, a way of conduct further impressed upon him for other reasons.

[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

The young Anzat looked up at the voice.

As he did, the boy's eyes were confused for the elusive sense of deja vu that he got. If he didn't know better, the young knight would have sworn that he'd met this man before. Maybe not met him, but could they have crossed paths some time before? No, that didn't seem to make sense. This Jedi looked very human, and Sor-Jan's Jedi Order was a thing of the past.

The very distant past.

"Hi," the boy offered brightly, nodding in acknowledgment of his name as he was asked it. Gesturing up toward the funerary pot that was hovering in the air by itself, the child wryly stated, "This wasn't exactly what I'd thought I'd find at an antique show."

Folding his hands down inside the sleeves of the Corellian green robe that he wore, the boy craned his head back as he looked up at the taller humanoid. "I was hoping maybe someone here could help me figure a way to dispel the aura around it," the child remarked. What was that called? Force... banish the Dark Side? Force Pew-Pew? Team LightSide Byss?

All of those seemed wholly appropriate, and the suggestion would have earned him a smack from his master.

"Do you know of any teachers like that..." the child inquired wistfully. He was still very curious about these new Jedi. Except, he realized he didn't even know this man's name. "Master...?"

Younglings typically called anyone older than them 'master', knight or otherwise. It was a habit that stuck with the little Corellian.

[member="Ilias Nytrau"]​