Kai'el Brat "Guardian of the Light"
Headmaster Tirin had been kind enough to grant Braze sanctuary within the Veridian temple halls, though even refuge came with expectations. There was decidedly an assignment for the young half-Echani Jedi exile, one the Headmaster himself was assigning to the Exile.
After weeks spent poring over ancient texts and brittle scrolls that had once been buried deep within the vaults of the Ashlanti Elysium, Tirin had uncovered mention of a fabled structure, a temple that had once been the stage of a truth too fragile to survive its own reflection. Its name surfaced only in fractured legends and scattered fragments of scripture, spoken of as both ruin and revelation.
The Temple of Glass, the Ashlanti had called it.
No record told precisely where it stood, only that it lay beyond the known mountain ridge, where the Force itself turned inward, a place the ancients claimed was both sanctuary and grave.
The assignment was simple in theory.
Braze had, in essence, betrayed the Order during his service as a Temple Guard. His actions had cast doubt upon his judgment and sullied the trust once placed in him. Sending him to locate and restore a ruined temple felt almost poetically appropriate, perhaps an ironic punishment disguised as purpose.
Either way, Braze accepted without protest. He told himself it was penance. In truth, it was the need to feel purpose beyond himself, to believe he had not been turned away completely.
He had brought his pupil, Leos, along for the venture. Braze told himself it would serve as good training, the long trek up and through the mountain ridge offering lessons in endurance, patience, and caution alike for the young padawan hopeful.
The untamed wilds of Veridia were as dangerous as they were breathtaking.
The path they followed wound its way up through the mountain's spine, lying quiet beneath a gentle amber light. The air carried the first crispness of autumn, threading cool gusts through the trees and setting the canopy whispering overhead. The scent of damp earth and pine sap mingled with the faint sweetness of decaying leaves, a perfume of life turning inward as it faded away. Rusty hues of burnt umber, bright orange, and molten gold drifted down to paint the ground in a soft carpet underfoot. Each step pressed a faint crunch from the leaf litter, a rhythm that echoed their steady stride.
Most of the birds had already flown to warmer skies, leaving behind a silence so complete it felt as though the forest itself had fallen asleep.
Braze was quiet as they climbed through the mountain pass, ascending toward their fabled goal ahead, his mind somewhere far from the path beneath his boots. He had shown Leos how to read the trail, how to follow the curve of stone and hear the whisper of wind between the trees, what sounds meant danger and which meant safety, but his focus had started to drift. The lessons were for Leos, but the silence was for himself, as he ruminated on his crimes.
Every step seemed to stir the ghosts of his choices. He told himself he had done what was necessary, that he had acted as any Jedi would when pressed to the edge. But beneath that mantra he heard another truth, one he could no longer ignore. He had not been noble. He had not been right. He had been afraid, and pride had made fear look like conviction.
The thoughts gnawed at him with every passing moment. Questions had been left unanswered. He had replayed it all so many times that the recollections no longer felt like memories but rehearsals of failure. He could see every moment where he should have stopped, spoken, listened, and had not. Moments where he could have done something else, where he should have done something else.
The mountain winds bit at his face, the chill washing over the bridge of his nose, sharp and clean, scented faintly with stone and pine. He paused atop a narrow ridge and glanced back toward his young student. The Tapas technique was still new to Leos, maintaining it this long in the thin mountain air would test his focus and stamina.
It was a long journey by foot, and there were no safe landing zones anywhere near where they needed to go. Braze's pale features were flushed from cold and effort, color rising from the bridge of his nose to the very tips of his ears.
He drew a slow breath, feeling the sting of the wind and the weight of the silence pressing in yet still. It reminded him, uncomfortably, of meditation. Except this quiet did not soothe. It only left room for his thoughts to speak louder than he wanted them to.
After pausing briefly to ensure his student was all right, they pressed on, ascending higher and higher into the mountains where the air grew thin and breaths came harder to catch. The temperature seemed to drop further with every few steps. The trees thinned, their branches becoming brittle and rimed with frost, and the earth gave way to pale stone and the first mounds of snow. Soon the landscape lay hushed beneath a thin veil of ice, the ground treacherous beneath their boots, slick and uneven where frozen water glazed the rocks.
The wind had changed too, no longer a whisper through leaves but a low, hollow current that groaned around the cliffs like a mournful cry wailing into the blue void above.
The trail narrowed here, half-buried beneath snow and slick patches of ice that caught the light like shards of glass. Braze paused and unfastened his fur-lined cloak, stepping close to his student. He wrapped it around Leos's shoulders, drawing the cords snug and pulling the hood up to shield the boy's pointed ears from the biting wind. The hopeful's breath came in small, shivering clouds.
"Hang in there," Braze said, his voice raised against the howl. "I think we're getting close."
Up ahead in the distance, their path converged upon a large, gaping maw, the cavernous opening of what could only be their destination. It was marked by a torii gate, its frame half-buried in snow and weathered by time. This was something Braze had grown familiar with. He recognized the structure from the cavern he had come across before.
He drew Leos closer as they approached, grateful for the reprieve from the harsh mountain winds. Within the mouth of the cavern, the air was still and heavy, tasting faintly of stone and frost.
Braze reached behind him, unfastening the leather-bound tube he carried, and carefully withdrew the old scroll Tirin had given him. The parchment was fragile with age, its ink faded to sepia. Upon it was a cryptic poem, accompanied by a few painted images. He unrolled it slowly, holding the illustration beside the gate before them.
Even worn and weathered by years of neglect, the resemblance was striking. The image and the gate were one and the same.
He circled the large structure, scanning for any inscription, and soon found a placard half-buried in snow and ice. Kneeling beside it, he brushed the frost away with his gloved hand. The words carved into the stone matched those within the scroll exactly.
Beneath the mountain's frozen breath,
Where memory bleeds and time forgets,
The heart of glass shall open wide,
To show the living how they died.
Not all who shatter are broken.
Not all who see are awake.
The mirror knows the shape of silence,
And the silence remembers every mistake.
He who reforged what gods could not bear,
Walked in glass and found his prayer.
To forge again is to fracture the soul,
For every folly demands its toll.
This was definitely the right path. Braze sighed, thankful this was not some jokester's wild goose chase. Looking down into the cavernous maw, it was hard to say what lay ahead. The poem was ominous, dark and deep, like staring into the void. It unsettled him all over again, knowing they would have to venture into the unknown to find what they were looking for.
"This… is it," he murmured softly, the words nearly swallowed by the cold air.
He carefully packed away the scroll, slinging the leather tube back across his shoulder before stepping into the darkness. From his ventral belt mount he drew his saber hilt, thumb brushing the activator.
The blade hissed to life, flooding the cavern in a glow of chalcedony teal. The light spilled over the stone walls, catching veins of frost and crystal that shimmered faintly as he passed. The silence deepened, even the sound of his boots seemed distant, dulled by the weight of the air.
Up ahead, the teal light flickered against something, a surface that gleamed where no light should have been. Smooth, reflective, like glass.
The sound of their boots changed the moment they crossed beneath the torii gate. The muffled crunch of snow became a sharp, crystalline echo that leapt from wall to wall. Every step rang too clearly, as if the cavern itself were hollow glass.
Braze slowed, letting the teal glow of his saber foil spill across the passage. The walls were smooth and translucent, veins of frost coiling beneath their surface. Each movement threw a hundred reflections back at him, fragments of glittering teal light caught in the ice.
He ran a gloved hand along one wall, feeling the strange cold, slick, almost wet, but solid beneath his palm. The blade's hum sounded different here too, its usual thrum bending and warping as if the air were denser.
"This doesn't make sense," he murmured. The cavern opened into a chamber that ended in a sheer sheet of reflective crystal. No cracks, nor hinges, nor seams. Just his own distorted reflection staring back from the cloudy, semi-transparent surface.
He stepped closer, studying the surface, searching for carvings or inscriptions, but found nothing. Braze frowned, adjusting the angle of his saber's light against the wall. The reflection flared white, dazzling, and for a moment he thought he saw something, perhaps lines or markings, but they vanished again in the glare.
He lowered the blade slightly, blinking against the afterimage. The realization began to form. Braze narrowed his eyes at the mirrored wall, tilting his saber a few more times. Every little shift and movement sent the teal light skittering wildly across the surface, obscuring whatever faint shapes hid beneath. He took a slow step back, letting the glow spill less directly on the wall.
Braze glanced at Leos, then back at the reflection. A thought lingered. He thumbed the activator on his hilt, and with a soft hiss the saber's glow vanished.
All at once, the chamber dimmed, plunging them into darkness. From the cave mouth behind them, a faint light crept inward, and the glassy wall began to change. Thin veins of silver and blue emerged, forming delicate patterns across the surface. They were ancient runes, glimmering faintly where no direct light touched.
He stepped closer, watching the shapes settle into a clear outline, a doorway traced in faint luminescence, the last threads of natural light barely reaching the far wall. Beyond its edge, the pitch-black abyss swallowed all color and sound.
Above the frame, faint Aurebesh lettering glowed against the crystal surface, each symbol shimmering as if lit from within.
"That which blinds," Braze murmured, reading the inscription aloud, "also conceals."
He reached out, fingertips grazing the luminous line. The glass rippled beneath his touch like disturbed water. Drawing a slow breath, he pressed forward with the Force. The surface shuddered, then folded inward with the grinding cry of stone and ice.
A cold hiss of air escaped from the darkness beyond, carrying the scent of frost and something older still.
They had found the entrance to the Temple of Glass.
Braze lingered for a moment longer, an unsettling chill creeping up his spine. The Force felt different here... like it was watching, waiting and listening.