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.