Private The Temple of Glass

[Braze]

Tags: Leos ​

Headmaster Tirin had been generous enough to grant Braze sanctuary within the halls of the Veridian Temple. Yet even sanctuary carried its own expectations. There was, without question, an assignment waiting for the young half-Echani exile. The raven haired Headmaster himself had given it to him.

After weeks spent immersed in ancient texts and brittle scrolls long buried within the vaults of Ashlanti Elysium, Tirin had uncovered mention of a fabled place, a temple that once stood as the stage for a truth too fragile to survive its own reflection. Its name appeared only in fractured legends and scattered fragments of scripture, spoken of as both ruin and revelation.

They called it the Temple of Glass.

No record told precisely where it stood, only that it lay beyond the known mountain ridge, where the Force itself seemed to turn inward. The ancient Ashlanti Monks claimed it existed as both a sanctuary and a 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 stained the trust once placed in him. Sending him to locate and restore a ruined temple felt almost poetically fitting, an ironic punishment masked as purpose.

Even so, Braze accepted without protest. He told himself it was penance. In truth, it was a need to feel useful again, to believe he had not been cast out completely.

He brought his pupil, Leos, along for the venture. Braze decided it would serve as good training, the long trek through the mountain ridge offering lessons in endurance, patience, and caution for the young padawan hopeful.

The untamed wilds of Veridia were as dangerous as they were breathtaking. The path wound long, tracing the mountain's spine, wrapped in a somber hush beneath the fading amber light of the fast-approaching evening. The air carried the first crisp chill of autumn, threading cool gusts through the trees and stirring their crowns in gentle motion. The scent of damp earth and pine sap mingled with the faint sweetness of decaying leaves, creating a perfume of life that surrendered to the coming cold. Rusty hues of burnt umber, bright orange, and molten gold drifted down to paint the ground in a soft carpet beneath their boots. Each step gave a faint crunch through the leaf litter, a rhythm that matched their steady pace.

The mountain forest stood silent, its birds long gone to warmer skies, leaving behind a quiet so deep it felt as though the woods themselves had drifted into slumber.

Braze remained primarily silent as they made their ascent, towards the fabled goal of finding the lost Temple of Glass. His thoughts drifted far from the path beneath his boots, carrying him into places his memory refused to let go. He had shown Leos how to read the trail, and how to trace the shape of the sheer stone cliffs. How to catch the change of wind between the trees, and to know which sounds warned of danger and which spoke of safety. Yet as the day wore on, his focus waned. The lessons kept his pupil attentive, but for Braze, the silence offered no sentiment of peace. Instead, it sharpened as he ruminated on his crimes, each memory resurfacing like a wound that refused to heal.

Every step along the mountain trail seemed to awaken the lingering shadows 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. Yet beneath that mantra, he heard another truth he could no longer ignore. He had not been noble, and he had not been right. He had been afraid, and pride had made that fear look like conviction.

The thoughts gnawed at his conscience with every passing moment. Questions lingered unanswered, and he had replayed it all so many times that the recollections no longer felt like memories but rehearsals of failure. He could see every instant where he should have stopped, where he should have spoken, or where he should have listened, and yet he had not. Moments where he could have done something else, should have done something else. And hadn't.

The mountain winds bit at his face, the chill washing across the bridge of his nose, the wind sharp and clean, carrying with it the faint scents of mineral rich stone and earthy pines. 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 both his focus and his endurance.

It was a long journey on foot. There were no safe landing zones anywhere near their destination, only rough slopes and dense forests that left even small crafts at risk. The climb however demanded endurance more than skill. Braze's pale features were flushed from cold and effort, a faint color rising from the bridge of his nose to the very tips of his ears. His breath came in slow, misty puffs, each little breath fading quickly into the thin mountain air.

He drew a slow, steadying breath, feeling the sting of the wind and the weight of the silence pressing in around him. It reminded him, uncomfortably, of meditation. Yet this quiet brought him no sense of peace. It only left room for his thoughts to run wild, allowing them to speak louder than he wanted them to.

As he paused briefly, he turned to check on Leos, watching the boy steady his footing on the frozen path before continuing upward. Satisfied, Braze adjusted his pack and pressed on, his boots crunching softly over the frost-hardened ground.

The path grew narrower as they climbed, twisting along a sheer ridge where the wind howled through jagged gaps in the stone. The climb grew steeper, demanding Braze's full attention to lead the way as the air thinned and each breath became harder to draw. The trees began to fall away, their branches turning brittle and silvered with frost. Soon the earth gave way to pale stone and the first drifts of snow. By the time they reached the upper ridge, the world had fallen silent beneath a thin veil of ice, the ground becoming more treacherous beneath their boots, slick and wet with uneven footing where frozen water glazed the rocks.

The wind had changed too, becoming a low, hollow current that groaned around the cliffs like a mournful cry fading into the blue void above.

The trail narrowed yet again, half-buried beneath snow and slick patches of melting ice that caught the light like panes of glass. Braze paused and unfastened his fur-lined cloak, throwing the warm black fabric open before stepping close to his young student. He draped it carefully over Leos's shoulders, drawing the cords snug and pulling the hood up to cover the boy's pointed ears. The cloak nearly swallowed him whole. Braze gave a small, amused huff, brushing a bit of snow from Leos's hair as the hopeful's breath came in tiny, shivering clouds.

"I know that face," Braze said with a half-smile. "Don't give me that look... I know you'd rather freeze solid than admit you're cold. Humor me this once, yeah? Enduring the cold isn't the same as mastering it. Even Jedi need to stay warm... 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 vast, gaping maw, the cavernous opening of what could only be their ordained destination. A torii gate stood before it, its darkened frame half-buried in snow and worn by the long passage of time. The sight was familiar to Braze. He recognized the design, recalling a similar structure that had once marked the entrance to a crystal cavern he had discovered before.

He drew Leos closer to his side as they approached, grateful for the brief reprieve from the harsh mountain winds. Within the mouth of the cavern, the air thinned and grew still, creating a quiet pocket untouched by the wind.

Braze reached behind himself, 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 a warm sepia hue. 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 walls. They were cold, slick, and 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 back 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.

 

[Braze]

Tags: Leos
​

Braze stepped back from the temple's shadowed threshold, drawing himself a few paces toward the faint daylight spilling through the cavern's mouth. The cold air pressed against his back, carrying the woeful howl of wind through the stone arches. Beyond the tori gate, the vast hollow of the cavern offered a stillness that felt older than the Temple itself.

"Alright," he said quietly, his soft breath misting in the dim light. "So it does exist." His gaze lingered on the doorway's dark edge eyeing over the seam of black glassy surface, vanishing into the mountain. "I'll go in first, see how stable it is. Check for traps, structure collapses… or just generally anything alive."

He set his pack down near his student, the sound of metal clasps echoing faintly against the crystalline stone walls. The cavern's mouth offered a patch of calm air, just sheltered enough to rest. Kneeling, Braze unlatched the pack and withdrew a few small cans of waxed cotton, their surfaces catching the pale glow from the sun light that poured through from the cracks over head.

Crouching near the smoother patch of stone beneath the cavern's overhang he continued his efforts at creating the small fire. The air here was dry, the floor dusted with bits of bark and pale worn drift wood that must have washed in from some long-forgotten river tunnel. He brushed a hand across the stone flooring clearing away the frost and testing the chill, then he began to work.

From his pack he pulled a small ignition plate, bundled tinder sealed in waxed cloth, and a folding striker. It looked like something he'd used a hundred times before. He arranged the materials with a sort of familiar habit, building a small mound of kindling, then rose and moved a short distance into the cavern's edge to gather a few brittle branches and dried roots. They broke cleanly in his hands, giving off a sharp resinous smell.

When he returned, he crouched low again and set the bundle down beside the tinder. Sparks flared under his fingers as a brief flash of blue light reflected in his pale jade green eyes, before the flame finally caught. He shielded it with his palm, coaxing it gently until the fire took hold, climbing from a faint crackle in to a steady glow.

The warmth spread quickly, painting his face in amber hues. He glanced up toward Leos and offered a faint smile.
"Not exactly luxury," he murmured, feeding another sliver of wood into the fire, "but it'll keep the cold off while I look inside."

The soft crackle of the fire filled the space between them, mingling with the distant hum of the wind over the crystal walls.
Braze sat back on his heels, watching the fire settle in to a sizable little blaze. He reached for his pack again, rummaging for a moment before pulling out a compact flare gun, its frame a dull silver with a red-tipped cartridge already loaded.

"Now," he said quietly, looking toward Leos, "if I don't make it back within three hours, I want you to call Valin on the comms. If they answer, tell them where we are and that I went inside."

He held up the flare gun, checking the chamber before handing it over, grip first.

"When they come, use this. Point it straight up to the sky abouve, thumb the safety here," he said, indicating the small latch near the rear sight, "then squeeze the trigger once. The flare will burn bright enough to light the whole sky for about half a minute. Don't aim it at anyone, and don't fire it indoors. You'll blind yourself before it helps."

He paused for a moment, thinking of what else he could say, "If something happens and you have to leave before they arrive, take the pack. There are rations, a spare light, and a locator tag inside."

For a few long moments, Braze just settled and watched the fire. Then he stood, brushed the dust from his robes, and turned toward the dark entrance of the temple.

He gave a small smile. "If the fire starts to fade, feed it a little more wood. And if you start to worry, remember that I've gotten out of worse places than this." He leaned slightly closer moving to ruffle Leos's hair, "No matter what you see or hear while I'm inside, trust what you feel. The Force connects us. You're never really alone, Leos."

Braze let the words linger, then he straightened, the warmth of the fire still on his back as he turned toward the dark mouth of the temple.

 

[Braze]

Tags: Leos



​

"You can also call my comm if you have any trouble. I will come running," he said with some finality, thinking of the unlikely chance that some dangerous creature, perhaps even a prowling lion, might wander close and take advantage of the lone Leos. There was a million worries and thoughts he suppressed trusting in his student.

From his belt, Braze withdrew his small shoto, the sai-sword-style saber he favored for close combat, and offered it to his student. "Keep this close. Use it only if you have to."

He was satisfied with the instruction he had given.

Turning toward the frozen threshold, Braze took a slow breath and exhaled, his breath visible as a pale mist against the frigid air. The cold deepened as he stepped forward, back toward the Temple of Glass.

Into the darkness he went, igniting his main saber as he crossed the boundary. Chalcedony teal light flooded the stone path ahead, painting the temple walls in shifting hues of blue and green.

His footsteps echoed into the darkness as he padded through the long, hollow, hallway. Each click of his heeled boots rang a little longer than the last, lingering beyond what felt natural before the sound was swallowed by the deafening silence. The floor began to slope downward, almost imperceptibly at first, but enough that his balance shifted in those heeled boots, his stride becoming more cautious along the ice-slick path he tread.

The deeper he went, the colder the air became. His breath hung before him in faint white wisps, curling and fading as if the cold itself devoured them. The walls glistened with frost, veins of ice spider-webbed through the stone as though the temple had been frozen in time.

No insects stirred, and no wind whispered through the forgotten corridors. Even the hum of his saber seemed muted, its teal light absorbed by the darkness rather than pushing it away.

The ground grew slick beneath his boots, forcing him to slow his pace. The slope deepened into a long, deliberate descent, carrying him further into the bowels of the Temple of Glass.

Every new step forward felt as if he were sinking into an oppressive stillness, a silence that seemed to have been waiting for him all along.
Finally, his path opened into a vast chamber, the narrow corridor widening without warning as the teal glow from his saber spilled outward into emptiness.

The floor leveled beneath him, smooth as polished stone. Frost clung to every surface in a thin, glittering sheen, scattering his light across the antechamber in small, pale reflections. At its center lay what appeared to be a still pool, perfectly round, its surface so clear it seemed almost unreal, looking more like a window rather than water.

Yet as he drew closer, the illusion fractured. The outer edge of the pool was sealed beneath a delicate film of ice, glistening with faint crystalline patterns that glistened softly within the light of his saber. From the center, thin curls of steam rose into the cold air, coiling upwards. The mist shimmered where it touched the frozen rim, water and ice existing side by side in an impossible stillness.

The faint warmth from the pool's heart brushed against his face, startling him in contrast to the chill that filled the rest of the chamber. The water below carried a subtle scent of minerals. His nose and eyes welcomed the touch of heat from the pool's radiance, the numbness in his skin beginning to fade. The sharp sting of cold around his eyes softened, melting away into a gentle warmth that made him blink slowly, almost drowsily. For a fleeting moment, it was as if the warmth itself were reaching out to him to embrace him. He relaxed in to the glowing embrace of warmth reaching a hand out to let the tips of his bare fingers feel the heat and vapor.

No sound reached him except the low hum of his saber and the quiet drip of melting frost from the ceiling above. The air here felt heavy and dense with the warm steam.

Peering down into the glassy surface below, he saw his own reflection staring back at him. The image was so clear it felt solid, as if another version of himself waited just beneath the water's skin. For a moment, they simply regarded one another, two figures suspended between light and shadow. Curiosity drew him closer. He leaned over the edge, trying to glimpse the pool's true depth, but it revealed nothing but darkness... no bottom, nor shimmer of crystals stone... only an endless darkness that swallowed the light whole.

Reaching into his pocket, he drew a single credit chip and held it out over the surface, watching his reflection do the same. Yet something felt wrong. The mirrored Braze didn't match his motion... not precisely. The hand in the reflection hesitated, fingers trembling just out of sync with his own, as if deciding for itself whether to obey.

He frowned and tested the motion again, shifting the coin from one hand to the other, trading his saber in hand as well. The reflection followed, but a fraction too late. A chill crept up his spine. He moved slower this time, watching closely, yet the reflection still seemed to think before it acted... as though weighing the choice to mimic him at all.

Braze's grip tightened around the coin. The saber's light trembled faintly across the water, making the reflected image shimmer and warp. His breath caught as the mirrored version of himself suddenly relaxed its hand. The credit chip in the reflection fell first, vanishing soundlessly into the depths below.

The real coin remained in Braze's palm, untouched. A faint ripple spread across the pool, reaching outward to the frozen edge where it broke in tiny fractures of light. The steam shifted, curling upward as if exhaling as a sudden splash of water spilled forth.

For the first time, the reflection looked up at him, not in perfect sync, but deliberately, eyes alive with their own intent.

Braze froze, the coin still pressed tightly between his fingers. The pool's faint warmth no longer felt inviting but unnervingly alive pulsing faintly with each breath he took. His reflection tilted its head, movements smooth but unhurried, like a being studying its creator.

Then it spoke.

"Peace is the absence of choice," the reflection murmured, its voice a quiet echo of his own, hollow and distorted through the water. "You sought peace."

The words rippled through the chamber like a whisper carried by the Force, bouncing from the frozen walls until it was impossible to tell where they truly came from.

Braze swallowed hard and took a step back eyes going wide. "What are you?"

The reflection smiled faintly, a mirror-perfect expression that held none of his warmth. "What you might have been."

The air seemed to thicken. The teal glow of his saber dimmed against the creeping shadows gathering at the pool's edge. Beneath the ice, something stirred, a faint light moving like breath beneath glass pouring FROM the pool it's self in a bright blue hue.

 

[Leos]

Veridia
Tags: Braze

Epo-1, YT-1760 small transport
​

Leos hadn't spoken much throughout the journey. He was freezing. The trick that Braze had shown him for keeping himself warm wasn't working very well. Mostly because he wasn't very good at it. When Braze vanished into the crystalline structure, Leos hardly had the energy to argue or fight his request to stay near the small fire which had been constructed. He just did as he was told, keeping his arms wrapped around himself.

But then seconds turned into minutes... and then longer.

He could only sit still for so long. Eventually the curiosity of what was going on in there got the better of him. Surely there was nothing in that place that would take that long to survey... right? Leos' shaky hand secured itself around his communicator, which he drew out of his pocket. After a moment of chattering his teeth to warm them up, he spoke into it.

"Uh... Braze? Are you there?"

 

[Braze]

Tags: Leos
​

Without warning, the surface broke.

A pale hand shot out from the water seizing Braze's his ankle with inhuman strength. The grip was ice-cold, its fingers solid as stone. Braze gasped, stumbling backward as the pool erupted in a spray of steaming water. His saber flashed instinctively, but it slipped from his grasp clattering to the floor.

The hand pulled suddenly and hard, dragging Braze down in to the watery depths of the half frozen pool. The frozen rim splintered beneath his boots, shards of ice cracking outward as he lost his footing, hands and nails digging in with futile desperation searching for purchase against the frozen floor. The water swallowed his legs, then his knees, and before he could draw another breath, the unseen force yanked him completely beneath the surface.

For an instant, all he could see was his reflection's face serene and unblinking, staring back at him through the distorted veil of water as everything above faded into shadow.

 

[Braze]

Tags: Leos ​

Leos found himself alone in the cavernous mouth of the mountain's crevasse, with nothing but the howling wind for company. The silence that followed over the comm link was deafening. It was like an emptiness that pressed at his ears until even the wind began to sound distant.

Nearly a full minute passed... then, at last, a familiar voice crackled through the static.
A thin wash of static, then his voice came through, calm in a way Leos had never quite heard from him before.

"Leos. I hear you."

A short pause, followed...

"Stay by the fire. Keep your breathing steady. Fear will try to tell you to move. You do not need to. You are safe where you are."

Another faint crackle of radio silence followed for a few agonizingly long moments as seconds seemed like an eternity in the bitter cold.

"Remember your lessons. There is no emotion, there is peace. Let the wind pass through you. Let the cold pass over you. Hold to the Force, not to the feeling." His tone softened as he gave the boy advice.

"I am inside the temple, and I am occupied, but I am not lost. You did the right thing by checking in. Keep the comm open. If anything changes, speak. If nothing changes, remain at rest. A Jedi does not run from the dark. A Jedi anchors the light." One last line came through, the tone sounding as steady as stone.

"I will return to you. Until then, trust your training and trust in the Force."
The small, meager fire at Leos's feet began to dim as the winds picked up, their howling rising over the ridge in restless moaning waves. From somewhere deep within the mountains came the faint, distant sounds of shifting stone, carried on the gusts. A low rumble followed, subtle at first before growing louder, until faint irregular tremors could be felt through the ground beneath the young jedi hopeful's boots.

Outside the cavern's mouth, the sky darkened as ominous clouds rolled over the peaks, blotting out the last hints of daylight. A crack of thunder tore across the ridge, its echo thundering through the hollow mountain like the roar of a waking beast. The cavern shuddered, dust falling from the stone arch above as the fire sputtered, dwindling under the sudden gusts of wind.

A light snow began to fall beyond the entrance as small white flecks came fluttering down, swirling lazily through the air. Before long, they began turning in to thicker and heavier, flurries, growing in growing in density with each passing minute, until the world beyond the firelight was blanketed in a veil of white.

Any hope of help coming from below seemed bleak now. The storm above was growing, and the comm signal began to falter, bleeding fragments of Valin's voice trying to hail him before fading entirely beneath the storm's fury.

The void of darkness was all-consuming. No sound, light, or sense of direction broke through that watery grave.

Somewhere far, far above, he thought he heard Leos's voice in a faint, distorted tone fading into static before vanishing entirely.

A sense of weightlessness took hold as he drifted, trapped in silence where up and down had no meaning. His body felt distant and unresponsive, as though it belonged to someone else entirely. The world began to return in fragments of color without shape and sound without source, until blurred streaks of light bled through the darkness.

Then came the familiar sound of running water. It filled his senses, loud and close, familiar in a way that was queer. Braze blinked, and the darkness rippled away from his vision.

He found himself staring into a sink basin, clean white porcelain, gleaming under soft artificial light. Droplets of water slid down his fingers as he turned to look at his hands. He looked up and met his own eyes in the mirror, just as he had countless times before after waking from a restless night in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.

The reflection was calm, and composed. He glanced to the side and saw the chrono on the wall reading 0600. There was just enough time to dress for the day, eat a substantial breakfast at the cafeteria, and reach class leisurely.

Braze didn't feel the exhaustion, nor any ache from the climb of the mountain trail. There was no lingering memory of the mountain or the temple entrance they had found either. All there was, was a strange sense of serenity... It was an eerie calm that felt too perfect to be real.
Braze glanced back at the mirror to look himself over properly. He could tell he was younger than he remembered, his face smooth and free of the scars that usually marked his doll-like features. It was strange seeing himself like this again, unweathered, and almost artificial in his expressions sense of calm.

He stepped out of the refresher and into his dorm room. Fresh clothes had been laid out neatly on the bed, compiled of drab, plain tan and beige robes... standard issue for any Jedi who had grown up with in the Temple's walls. The fabric looked stiff and dull, pressed flat with a tedious attention to detail. Pressed and starched neatly to practical perfection. They were modest, and tailored neatly to fit in the most proper, unremarkable way possible.

He moved toward the small closet and opened it. The sight that met him made his chest tighten. Gone were his little sculptures and hobby tools, and gone were the few bits of colorful robes he kept hidden away. No soft fabrics, no carved keepsakes, no flashes of blue or gold or silver. Just a handful of neutral tones folded into perfect rows, each one identical.

He looked down to note that he only seemed to own one pair of plain brown field boots. All of this was strange. Unnervingly so. The young half Echani stared at them for a long moment, feeling an uneasy stir in his chest growing with each new discovery of something that just wasn't right.

Braze dressed in silence. The fabric of his robes felt coarse beneath his fingers, far too stiff, and far too clean and sterile to be comfortable. Every fold sat exactly where it should, each layer falling into perfect alignment without effort. When he fastened the belt, it clicked into place as if the motion had been rehearsed a thousand times before.

The door to his quarters slid open with a soft sigh. Beyond it, the hallway gleamed with morning light pouring through high vaulted windows. The air was warm, carrying the faint hustle and bustle of Temple life... distant footsteps of students padding along, the murmured cadence of meditations in training halls, the gentle chime of a chronometer marking the new day. Everything was just... so.... serene... Too serene.

He stepped out in to the hallway, the sound of his flat soled boots padding against the polished floor. Initiates passed him in orderly pairs, each offering polite nods before continuing in silence or hushed conversation. Their expressions were calm, and almost identical, eyes fixed ahead. None of them spoke to him and none of them looked truly alive.

At the far end of the corridor, a statue of a robed Jedi loomed beneath a shaft of golden light. The inscription at its base caught his eye. It read:

Peace is the absence of choice.

The same words his reflection had spoken.

Braze stopped dead in his tracks. For a moment, the hall seemed to stretch, as the air thickening around him. The lights dimmed slightly along his peripheral, as the gold started fading to a pale, colorless glow. When he blinked, everything was still again.... just as calm and orderly as before.... all unbroken.

A voice echoed down the corridor next.

"Padawan Starfall," it called. "You are late for meditation."

He turned toward the voice, curious to see to whom it belonged. A Jedi Master stood waiting at the far end of the hall, her expression calm, and her eyes gentle and though seemingly empty.
Something deep within him whispered that he should run. A silent pang of dread welled in his chest, but he didn't move. The woman's voice carried that same unnerving calm as everything else here... soft, yet heavy, as if it filled the air itself in a slow, suffocating way.

"Padawan Starfall," it repeated, a little closer this time.

Braze's throat felt dry. He swallowed and forced his voice out, though it came quieter than he meant. "Where am I?"

The Master smiled faintly. "In peace."

She began walking toward him, her steps making no sound. Her robes trailed perfectly behind her, not even brushing the polished floor. As she approached, the hall brightened again, golden light returning to wash over the walls. The illusion of serenity reset itself, as though nothing strange had happened at all.

"You will be late for your morning meditations," she said, stopping a few paces away. "It is unbecoming of a Padawan to neglect the discipline that grants them harmony."

Her words sank into him like commands, gentle but some how absolute. For a moment, he almost felt the urge to obey. His muscles ached to move toward her, to follow, to kneel. The Force around her pulsed with a sort of pressure that made the air practically hum.

Braze blinked, trying to steady his breath. "I think there's been a mistake," he muttered, stepping back.

"There are no mistakes," the Master replied, her tone unchanging. "You have no need to question, only to understand. The Force guides, and you follow. To let go of choice is to be free. Come, and I will show you freedom."

Her words flowed through the corridor like water, smooth and without end. The golden light around her swelled until it filled everything, erasing depth, shadow, and color alike.

Braze took another step back, shaking his head. "No. The Force doesn't control me. It moves through me."

The Master's faint smile never wavered. "Then why do you fear its will?"

He felt it again, that creeping weight pressing at his chest. It was all just so... suffocating. His body wanted to kneel, yet his mind screamed to fight it.

"This isn't peace," he said through clenched teeth. "It's emptiness."

The light pulsed brighter, flooding his vision. Her voice carried over it, steady and certain in her commanding tone.

"All paths end in peace, Padawan. Whether you walk or whether you fall, the light will find you here."

The walls shimmered shifting to a reflective surface like that of mirrored glass. His reflection in the floors rose again, a single pale hand reaching for him from the mirrored surface as cracks of light splintered outward beneath his feet. The reflection's face was serene while his own twisted with unease and terror.

"I don't belong here," he said quietly, almost breathlessly.

The Master tilted her head. "You belong wherever the Force places you. Doubt is disorder, and disorder breeds pain. You do not want pain, do you Padawan Starfall?"

Her question felt less like inquiry and more like command. The air around him grew denser and heavyer. He could feel the Force bending, shaping itself to her words.

Braze shook his head, trying to focus. "This isn't real."

The Master smiled. "Reality is peace, Padawan Starfall. All else is noise."

Her hand lifted slightly, palm open toward him.

"You have no need to question, only to understand. The Force guides, and you follow. To let go of choice is to be free. Come, and I will show you freedom." She repeated almost like a mantra.
His reflection below smiled back at him. It was faint, though almost reassuring, and then it turned toward the Master as if to obey.

Braze felt a pull in his chest, a strange echo of motion that wasn't his own following after the reflection's motion. His muscles tensed, his feet shifting forward. It was like his body had already decided before his mind could protest. He tried to resist, but the Force pressed against him, soft yet absolute, guiding his every step like a puppet.

The Master waited, patient and unblinking. "You see? Obedience brings harmony. The will of the Force is never wrong."

Her words slid through him like warm water. He could feel the haze creeping in, dulling thoughts and quieting his doubts. Each step grew lighter until his resistance faltered. When he finally reached her, his knees buckles and met the polished floor without command. The act felt... inevitable.

The Master's hand hovered over his bowed head before she placed it atop the snowy locks. "Look," she whispered, her voice smooth and low, "and see the peace you were meant to know."
The corridor darkened, and the floor beneath him rippled again, becoming clear like glassy water. Beneath its surface, images began to form.

He saw himself... As a young padawan, radiant in calm and discipline, standing before the Council chambers. His posture was perfect, his expression humble and composed. The Masters around him nodded with silent approval.

The image shifted suddenly and then... then he was older now, a Knight of the Order. His saber, of modest and simple design shone with pale blue light. Every motion in combat was flawlessly executed, and given without hesitation or pride. Missions were completed without any failure. Students spoke of him as an example of purity and purpose.
He never laughed among them. He never lingered in conversation or stayed to share a meal once the lesson was done. There were no bonds beyond duty, no warmth that lingered after his teachings. He knew no friendship, no love... no attachments of any kind.

His life was as still and silent as meditation.

The Master's voice threaded through it all once more. "You were never defiant. You were never lost. You were meant to serve, not to question. You were peace made flesh."

His life unfolded with perfect order, quiet, efficient, and untouched by chaos. Discipline shaped every choice, and devotion left no space for anything else. Service defined him now and nothing else remained.

Then came the final image.

The image trembled, then shifted again. The golden corridors of the Temple dissolved into open air, and before him stretched a sky painted in the deep hues of sunset. The world was bathed in color from honey golden ambers, somber dusty roses, and faint violets, fading together into the horizon.

At the center of it all stood a funeral pyre.

The light of the setting sun caught on the folds of the Jedi robes draped across it, turning the pale fabric into shades of gold withe fire and flame. His saber lay beside them, the blade extinguished, and the hilt blackened with soot. The air shimmered with heat, and smoke curled upward in slow, graceful ribbons, blurring the line between fire and sky.

Silhouettes surrounded the pyre, their faces lost in the darkened shadows. The gathered figures stood in perfect stillness, their hands folded with heads bowed. No one wept for him. Only the soft crackle of burning wood filled the silence.

The sun slipped lower, bleeding red along the edges of the smoke until both flame and sky became one. His name was spoken once reverently as it was carried away by the wind.

He was remembered as a legend of light, though not as a man.

The Master's voice softened. "You see? You never needed to suffer. You could have been free."

Braze stared down at the image. For a heartbeat, he almost believed it. The stillness was so complete, the peace so deep, that even the ache in his chest quieted down feeling himself want to give in.

Then, in the reflection, he saw his own eyes staring back. They were dull and lifelessly blank. The eyes of a perfect Jedi who had never truly lived.