Private Trip back home

[Laphisto]

Laphisto sat in the shuttle, arms mostly crossed over his chest as he scrolled through the wrist-mounted computer on his vambrace, reviewing mission files and minor documents that required his attention. He was the leader of the Lilaste Order, after all duties did not pause simply because of personal errands.

The shuttle bounced against turbulence that shouldn't exist, but neither Laphisto nor the crew seemed surprised. He had warned Iandre Athlea only briefly about Kiev'ara: that it was once the homeworld of his species, and that it had become something far more grim. He had mentioned, almost offhandedly, that the Force did not behave normally on its surface. The rest he had left unsaid, expecting hoping that she had done her research through the Diarchy's database, including the reports from the first expedition. When the shuttle touched down with a muted jolt, Laphisto closed the files on his vambrace and rose fluidly from his seat. He moved to the hatch, fitting the oxygen mask over his face with practiced ease before turning to Iandre. Without a word, he checked her suit absently, efficiently tugging at a strap, checking seals, ensuring everything was in order.

He walked with her to the edge of the ramp, stopping just shy of stepping onto the planet's surface. Beyond the metal lip stretched a wasteland of ash-gray stone and frozen ruin, utterly still beneath the pale, fractured sky. No wind stirred. No sounds touched their ears but the faint creak of the shuttle behind them and the soft hiss of their own breath within their masks. A faint, familiar ache stirred within similar to fear but leanding between that and regret. fromt he last time he steped foot on this planet but he pushed it down, burying it beneath duty. Turning to look at Iandre, he inclined his head slightly toward the silent desolation ahead. "After you."

 

[Iandre Athlea]

The old Jedi had so many things to catch up on, so learning about Kiev'ara was just another item on the list. Iandre had not neglected to do her research. Reading about what happened and the effects of the Star Forge were just that. Information only. Getting her feet on the ground and feeling it all is what would open her eyes.

As was typical for her, she placed a Force barrier around herself and her spacesuit after her master checked everything over. One could never have too much protection. While he had told her the Force acted differently and she had glanced at the report, actually having the Force taken from her was undoubtedly going to come as a surprise.

Raising a hand to cover the top of her vision, Iandre looked across the barren landscape in front of them. She still possessed the Force as she stood on the ramp of the shuttle that brought them. In the months since she had been a part of the Lilaste order, she had learned many new things. One crucial aspect was her emotions. Most of the time, she remained stoic, but she had started to express a few of them.

Before stepping off the ramp, she turned to look at Laphisto.

"Will you be okay coming back like this?"

She had picked up on his emotion before he locked them down, and she asked out of care and concern. After he answered, she would nod and take her first step onto his former home.

With the sudden removal of the Force from her grasp, her barrier evaporated. She drew in a fast breath and tried to take hold of an item that was entirely gone. Making a fist with one of her hands, she held it above her heart for a moment before turning to face her master.

"I didn't believe it. It's true. The Force really isn't here. At all."

For now, she would be fine and adjust to her missing skills.

Laphisto

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto lingered for a moment longer at the edge of the ramp, his ears folding slowly back against his skull. Then, with a quiet breath, he stepped down. His footfall struck the ground with a dull, lifeless crunch brittle rock and dust shifting beneath armor as ancient as the ruins that surrounded them. The cold seeped up through the soles of his boots, not just in temperature, but in memory. A quiet wrongness, heavy and absolute.

He had expected a tremor. A scream. That same, clawing whisper that once burrowed into the back of his mind, pulling at the edges of his will — cold fingers curling into his thoughts like rot through roots. The silence that met him now was worse. It was final. Indifferent. And that, somehow, unsettled him more than any voice ever had.

He exhaled once, slow and shallow through the oxygen mask, then cleared his throat to speak. "Old records recovered from the city and surrounding villages speak of the Rakata," he said, voice flat through the comms, as if to ward off the stillness pressing in. "They came to conquer. To enslave. But my people didn't bend. Not easily. Not quietly. Despite all odds, they fought… until there was nothing left to give." He stepped through the shattered gate of Elda'mir, leading Iandre into the heart of a memory turned grave. And there, it changed. The battlefield outside had been tragic petrified warriors, statues frozen in the act of defiance. But this… this was heartbreak.

The city was a time-locked elegy, a world captured at the moment of its death. Civilians, hundreds of them, stood frozen in place as though the end had swept over them like a tide caught in the instant their lives had ended. Mothers cradled infants. Children clung to robes and wings. Couples held each other close. Elders sat with hands folded in their laps, eyes half-closed as if awaiting judgment. And from the chest of each Kiev'arian warrior, guard, child, matron glowed a faint ember of light. The Fire Tears.

Each one pulsed gently, in perfect synchronicity a quiet, rhythmic glow like the beat of a heart that no longer lived. The effect was haunting. Beautiful. Terrible. The whole city was breathing without breath, alive in death. Near the gate, a squad of guards stood in eternal vigil. Shields raised. Weapons drawn. Eyes locked outward as if the enemy might yet come over the ridge. Their Fire Tears pulsed like the others steady, calm, defiant even now.

Laphisto stopped walking. His eyes scanned the faces the despair, the silent bravery, the love frozen in stone. His throat tightened. A faint tremor rolled through his chest, but he buried it, deep. When the gods struck each other down, they hadn't only destroyed themselves. They had undone everything. Kiev'ara had not fallen in fire or blood. It had been unmade spirit and stone and soul, extinguished in a single heartbeat. all because of power and greed.

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre did not step farther from the ship than she had until her master joined her on the ground. Without the Force allowing her to read his emotions, she could only try to read his body language, which would be difficult with both of them wearing the needed suits. She gave him her full attention and only started moving when she knew he would be fine. Allowing him to lead the way, Iandre observed the battlefield. Her stoic demeanor remained in place, but she could feel something in her starting to crack a little.

Battlefields and war-torn areas weren't entirely new to the Jedi. Ones this ancient weren't familiar to her, though. Intelligent eyes looked over the warriors, and she wondered what they had been fighting over. There was a different way Laphisto was acting. Maybe he was showing her or trying to show her a side of himself that he usually kept buried and secret. She didn't think so. She felt like Laphisto was among the few sincere people she had ever met. He had never lied to her and had never kept anything hidden. She thought they had been destined to be from the moment they met. Two people from different times were brought into the future.

Walking with him, she listened silently to his lesson. His voice was flat and emotionless. Then he guided her through the shattered gate, and she stopped walking. Her breath became as shallow as his had been moments ago. Reading about this was one thing, seeing it with her eyes was another matter altogether. When she thought of the attempted destruction of the Jedi, she was sad. Seeing this brought her to despair. A sorrow so deep she didn't know how to display it. Tears were not enough, but that was all the woman had.

"Are you an endling?"

Not yet looking at her master, her gloved hand hovered just above one of the petrified corpses. The light drew her, but they were sacred. Feeling it best to leave the body alone, Iandre turned to look at Laphisto and waited for his answer.

Laphisto

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto stopped stationary, eyes glancing around at the bodies. A soft wince rolled across his frame as one hand lifted to his brow, pressing softly against the skin with a low rumble. Flashes of memory darted through his mind but they weren’t his. He was rushing from the city, four guards following close behind. He turned, shouting for the gate guard to hold the line, to protect the civilians at all costs.

Then the blade the one Diarch Reign had taken from the temple was in his hand. And suddenly he wasn’t himself. He was the king. Or rather, Dra’ko, wearing the king’s body. It was just a glimpse, a ghost of a moment before the end. Before the gods clashed. Before they killed each other. Before their raw, divine fury petrified the world in an instant.

Laphisto blinked, pulling himself from the echo just as Iandre’s voice reached him. His ear perked at the sound, flicking upright as he turned toward her slowly. “An endling?” He let the word sit on his tongue for a moment before shaking his head gently. “I don’t believe so. At least… I hope not.”

His voice was quieter now, his tone softer, less guarded. “My people were few in number… even before I was placed under carbonite. And I haven’t seen another since the first time I went under. But… I want to believe I’m not the last. I have to believe that.”

His eyes dropped to the ground, arms folding loosely across his chest plate as he took in the quiet stillness of the city again. His gaze trailed deeper into the ruins… then lifted just in time to see her hand hover over one of the corpses. A faint frown tugged at his features, more caution than disapproval.

“Did you read the after-mission report… about the jewels embedded within the petrified?” he asked, his voice even. “The Fire Tears. They’re not just crystal. What you see if the living of the Kiev'arian soul. Taking a jewel within your hand will bond you to them if they deam you worthy that is. Supposedly they even work as a light saber crystals believe it or not.”

Iandre Athlea

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Her hand still hovered above the glowing crystal, but Iandre continued to leave it alone. She had asked her question and waited only a moment before Laphisto answered. She had feared he was the last, but the hope and desire in his voice quelled it. He sounded so positive she could believe more of his people were somewhere.

"My hope for you is the same. That you are not an endling. It would be most unfortunate if you were. Do you have any idea where they could be found?"

Then he noticed where she held her hand. Closing her fingers in the air, she lowered and left the crystal there.

"I glanced at it, but the last entries were still being processed. I did not finish it."

What she had learned was that she did not feel she should take one of these crystals. They were a part of the person who had died, and to take that piece wasn't right in her mind. No matter how much they called, she would do her best to resist—unless one of them screamed at her to take it.

"Your recorded experience was enough to keep me from taking one."

Motioning with her hand at the city square, she watched as they beat as one. Each one was a symbol of the person who carried it. They were different colors, hues, and even brightness. None were dull, though, and they all carried the life of a person struck down too early.

"I do believe that, master. Do you think I have earned one?"

Technically, it wasn't up to either of them, but the soul of the crystal.

Laphisto

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto stared at her hand for a moment longer, then let his gaze settle on the crystal embedded in the chest of the frozen guard. The soft, rhythmic glow pulsed like a heartbeat calm, unaware, alive in all the ways that mattered. "They don't call out," he said, his voice low and steady. "They don't choose anyone. They can't."

He took a slow step closer, his eyes moving from face to face, from the soldier to the still forms beyond—civilians caught mid-embrace, children clutched tightly in their parents' arms. "The moment they died it sealed them. Everything they were their thoughts, their feelings, their instincts all of it trapped in that last heartbeat. Frozen in place. To them, there was no death. Just. stillness. One second they were moving, fighting, fleeing, holding someone close… and the next, they blink and they're here. In this time. No memory of what happened. No understanding of what they've lost."

He turned his head slightly, his voice growing firmer, more deliberate. "When someone bonds with a Fire Tear, it reactivates the soul. Pulls them into the present without their consent. It's not a gift. It's not some mystical inheritance. It's like dragging someone mid-step into a world that isn't theirs." Laphisto paused, gaze drifting across the city square again. Hundreds of pulses, hundreds of souls each one alive, unaware.

"I don't say this to frighten you. Only to warn you. If you ever feel drawn to one of them. If you ever decide to bond with a Tear" He looked back to her now, voice quieter, but sharp. "Then let it be a warrior. Someone who chose to stand. To fight. To die with blade in hand. The three we've seen Vrax, Nai, and Aeris. they were soldiers. When they awoke, they met us with clarity. With purpose. Not panic." Another beat passed. His arms folded slowly across his chest, his gaze lingering on a woman frozen in the act of shielding her child.

"But the others the mothers, the children, the ones who died only trying to protect or flee they deserve peace. Not confusion. Not the weight of waking in a future they never asked to see." He let the silence stretch a moment longer. "Choose carefully. If not for yourself… then for them. some warriors would give anything to fight again"

Iandre Athlea

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Her hand remained fisted inside the space suit. The cold was starting to creep into her feet, and Iandre stood up and away from the body she had been next to. The child seemed to look on in fear at the unknown and the death it saw coming. She couldn't take that from the boy and turned her back on him. Listening to Laphisto's words, she felt tears rolling down her face.

"They have a sense of peace, then. How is it my position to end that for them? To take into my possession one of their souls? It isn't my duty!"

As he spoke, his words appeared to strike Iandre.

"How could your gods have allowed something like this to happen? Do all people want to die standing and on their feet?"

Even though she had the emotional training provided to the cadets, she had not entirely accepted them for herself. She sniffled as she tried to dry her tears through sheer willpower. Gulping down a few shudders, she took some calming breaths and listened to what he was saying.

"I was trained to bring peace and prosperity. I can not, with a clear conscience, take one of these crystals even if they want to fight again. I just can't."

He might not want to hear this from her, but Iandre wouldn't lie to Laphisto.

Beat. They went out as one and came back. She couldn't stand what this meant to him and his people. They had been torn out of their timeline and were together now.

"Why are we here, Master? What is our purpose? Why couldn't we have died in the past?"

Looking rather deflated, the Padawan sat down in the dead ground and punched at the firmament of his planet.

Laphisto

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto didn't interrupt her. He stood still, arms folded across his chest as the outpouring came raw, unfiltered, untrained emotion. Not a weakness. Not to him. Just pain long buried, finally touching air. He watched as she stepped away from the child's body, her hand still clenched, her voice cracking beneath the pressure. He saw the tears streaking down her face inside the helmet, the way she struck the ground like it might answer her. Heard the anger. The confusion. The sorrow. And still, he said nothing at least, not yet.

Only when she sat down, hunched over with grief pressing into her shoulders, did he move. His steps were slow and deliberate, measured like everything else he did. When he reached her, he stopped beside her and let out a breath through the mask, his gaze resting on the soft pulse of the Fire Tears beyond the square their silent rhythm undisturbed, unaware of the world they no longer belonged to.

"There's no justice in this," he said finally, voice low but steady. "No meaning. No grand plan." He glanced toward the child she had turned from, the boy still clutched in his mother's arms, frozen in terror. A moment suspended forever. "And the gods didn't allow it. They caused it. Or maybe. they were it. I don't even know anymore." His voice faltered slightly, not in weakness, but in the weight of too much time and too many truths.

"From my brief encounter with them… Dra'ko wanted to preserve us, to keep us whole. But Saurav'ix said otherwise. Said we weren't natural. That we were created, crafted in their image, not born. A species built to serve. Living conduits of power." He looked down for a moment, as if those words still unsettled him more than he let on.

"It seems as i was a tool of the jedi my people were created to be a tool of thier gods.." He let the silence stretch before continuing, his tone softening again. "You don't owe them peace, Iandre. They already had it. That final breath, frozen in time that was theirs. And it's not your place to take that from them. I won't ever ask you to." He crouched beside her, no longer the commander or the mentor just someone who had outlived too much.

"I've lived a long time. Too long. And I still don't know why we're here. Why we didn't die with the rest. Why we were pulled forward when everything else was left behind." His eyes moved across the city again, over the glow of souls caught mid-moment motionless, unaware, sealed in silence. "But I do know this if we're here, it means someone still can be. Someone can remember. Someone can carry what they could not."

He turned back to her, voice calm, careful, and quiet. "You're not here to claim anything. You're here to understand it. To see what happens when gods forget compassion. When time forgets mercy. When even the Force turns away." His gaze fell to one of the warriors near the gate sword drawn, stance held, Fire Tear pulsing like a forgotten drumbeat. Unlike the civilians, their final moment had been one of resistance, of purpose. Not desperation. Not retreat. He let out a slow breath, barely audible over the suit's respirator.

"There are some among them. who were ready to fall. Who knew what they were standing for and never got the chance to defend the ones they loved. That kind of death it wasn't peace. It was purpose, cut short." He paused, thoughtful. "And maybe. maybe giving them a chance to stand again isn't stealing their peace. Maybe it's honoring their intent."

Another silence. "You wouldn't be robbing them of thier peace. Just continuing what they never had time to finish." He stood again, gaze sweeping out over the frozen city. "Not all stories end clean. Some were meant to go on. And if one of them does. through you then let it be for the right reason." His voice settled, quieter now."If you want to stay here a while. we can wait." WIth that he moved into a seated position next to her

Iandre Athlea

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Her shaky speech was uninterrupted, and Iandre really appreciated it. When Laphisto broke his silence, it was several beats after she had sat down. He provided her with an answer she hadn't expected. His voice faltered a little, and she looked up at him from her position on the cold ground. Keeping quiet for now, she allowed him to finish speaking—the same thing he had done for her.

"I am so sorry, Laphisto—my friend. You have been through far more than any person should have to go through. My trials and tribulations are minor to yours."

Letting out a slight sound of humor, it wasn't a laugh or snort, just a sigh, but it carried her emotion.

"You are your own now. Making your decisions without having anybody question them. What do you think you are meant to be? A tool or a power? My vote is a power. Do you think you are natural or a creation?"

He gave her the same answer as she had asked when they met. Not that she assumed he would say anything different, she could only hope he had figured out the reason.

"Maybe together we can figure out why we are here. And if not, at least we can make a good story for those that come after."

Turning when he fell into silence, she could tell he wasn't done. Her green eyes followed where he looked, and she also saw the warrior. She knew what Laphisto was telling her, but her mind didn't want to comprehend.

"What do the colors mean?"

Appreciating him as he sat down next to her, she physically turned to face him, and the emotion she had been feeling was still there. It wasn't uncontrolled or very strong, but like the Tears beat, the emotion within her did as well.

Laphisto

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto looked out over the dead once again before then looking back at Iandre Athlea with a small nod her way " your troubles are no less important than my own lass. Your pain, your struggles. Are no less valuable "

When she spoke of his purpose he gave a small chuckle and a light nod her way" I do not know why I am here, or for what purpose. But I will make my own path in this galaxy, and I shall carry the pain and sorrow as apart of myself. The galaxy will not know who those I have fought along side are, or even care the sacrifices they made. That is why it's up to us, to make sure their names carry on. So that they are remembered."

"The colors?" He raised a brow looking out. At the pulsing jewels in there reds, greens whites and blues. " The colors are associated with the type of Kie'varian they were. From recovered records there were four different types. Each named after one of the four elements , red for fire, green for earth, white for air, and blue for water. From other bits of knowledge given to us by the souls of the first expedition. Each flight inhabited different parts of Kie'vara, and in turn had different physical attributes "

As he sat with her he rested his hands against his knees. The sitting position being a bit awkward for him considering his biology

 

[Iandre Athlea]

There were quite a few things she liked about Laphisto. Even though he was her master, he treated her as an equal in many ways. Iandre appreciated this greatly and gave him a small smile through the helmet. The glass separated her from death, and she checked her air supply to make sure she had enough for a while.

"Maybe your purpose is to train people like me who are also out of their time. The Galaxy can be a very unforgiving place. It can also be very considerate. It cradled me while I slept through it all. In a way, like you. How long were you in Carbonite?"

This quiet, dead world had its peace. While the Galaxy spun around them, time had forgotten this planet. The ghosts of the past lived on in the souls of the frozen. Their gods had placed them in this stasis; now she could bring one back if she wanted. Was it her place to give one the chance to carry on? Perhaps it was, but she wasn't ready to make that choice yet.

"With your green eyes, I assume yours is green? Do you remember what it was like to grow up here?"

She had not considered how uncomfortable Laphisto might be sitting on the cold, hard ground.

Laphisto

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto gave a small nod, thinking over her words for a moment before letting out a slight chuckle and shaking his head.
"Maybe you're right. Perhaps it is my place to train those also lost to time... and perhaps to give them a purpose."

He paused, reflecting on the thought. Truth be told, she was the first apprentice he’d encountered who, like him, was displaced from her own era. But perhaps she wouldn’t be the last. With the recent collapse of hyperspace lanes and rumors of ships vanishing only to reappear decades or centuries later it was entirely possible others like them existed, drifting between timelines. Maybe one day, he would meet another soul from this era someone just as lost and when that time came, he could be the familiar face, the comforting story, that they needed.

When she asked about his own Fire Tear, his ears perked slightly, and he glanced over at her. His left eye, once fully green, now bore tiny flecks of red, while the blue of his right eye shimmered with gold specks like a painter had dipped a brush into stardust and flicked it across the canvas of his gaze. "I remember when I was being drained of my essence by Saurav'ix. From what the reports indicated prior to our landing there was already a green glow pulsing through my veins, as I saw the same ethereal glow being slowly siphoned away when the old god has his clutches in me. Based on that. and on everything we’ve seen since. believe you're right."

At her question about growing up here, he raised a brow. "I wasn’t born here," he said plainly. "I was born and raised on Ossus. This planet. it’s my ancestral home, yes, but it never really was home to me."He gave a small chuckle, shaking his head as his eyes turned to the stars above. "As for how long I’ve been frozen. well, that depends on what you mean. If you mean since the first time I went under, then it’s been well over eight thousand years."

There was a long pause before he spoke again, his voice softer now. "I never really got to build a life after that first slumber. I left everything behind my wife, my friends, my family. I know it’s hard. being in a place so unfamiliar, surrounded by people you don’t know, in a galaxy that barely resembles the one you left behind."

He turned his head slightly to look at her, offering a small, reassuring smile. "But you’re not alone. Not anymore. You're part of a larger family now." He gave a half-chuckle at that, his tone warm but laced with irony. "And in a technical sense, that’s more true than rhetorical. If I were still within my clan. they'd consider you a foundling."

Iandre Athlea