Private Where Shadows Learn to Linger

[Seren Gwyn]

The coordinates Varin sent carried Seren deep into the Gulg Desert, far from Korriban's better-known monuments and well-worn paths.

Morning had only just claimed the sky. The red sun hung low and immense, its light still angled rather than oppressive, casting long shadows across the dunes instead of crushing them outright. Heat shimmered faintly along the horizon, but the air retained a thin, brittle coolness that would not last past midday. Wind moved steadily across the desert, dragging sand in low veils that whispered against stone and bone alike.

The temple revealed itself gradually. At first, it was only a break in the desert's rhythm—unnatural angles interrupting the smooth rise and fall of dunes. As Seren drew closer, the structure resolved into something unmistakable despite its ruin: a Jedi temple, ancient and weathered almost beyond recognition. Pale stone, once clean and deliberate, had been darkened and scarred by centuries of sandstorms. Entire sections of the outer walls had collapsed inward, leaving jagged silhouettes against the sky. Portions of the roof had collapsed, exposing fractured beams and hollow chambers to the open air.

Toppled statues lay scattered around the perimeter, half-buried and broken. Where faces had once carried calm certainty, there were now only smooth, eroded planes. Arms lay severed from torsos. Symbols had been worn down until meaning blurred into abstraction. It should have been swallowed by the desert long ago.

Seren slowed her approach, stopping short of the threshold where stone gave way to shadow. She did not cross inside. Not yet.

From here, she could feel it. The Force around the temple was unsettled—but not violent. It did not claw or scream as corrupted places often did. Instead, it pressed outward in uneven currents, as if the structure itself were being asked difficult questions and had not yet decided how to answer. The Light still lingered in the bones of the place, stubborn and residual, but it no longer stood unchallenged. Something else threaded through it now—measured, deliberate, patient—change without conquest.

Seren let the desert wind move around her cloak, grains of sand tapping softly against her boots as shadows gathered naturally at her feet, stretching toward the ruin without instruction. She studied the damaged exterior, the collapsed sections, the openings torn into the ceiling that allowed sunlight to intrude where it had not been permitted.

This was not desecration. It was a dialogue.

She remained outside the temple, gaze lifting briefly to the red sun as it climbed higher, then returning to the broken stone before her. Varin had chosen this place carefully. Chosen it not for what it was—but for what it was becoming.

Seren waited, patient and still, allowing the desert to mark her presence while the temple—and its keeper—became aware of her arrival.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

CC-14 was the first entity in the temple to be aware of Seren’s arrival. Seeing her ship land and her venture forth up the steps he walked through the doorway to meet with her.

“Good morrow, Lady Seren. Hopefully your travel has fared well?”

He looked past her to see the state of her ship, calculating if she had run into issues or if any maintenance would need to be done.

“Master Varin has been eagerly awaiting your arrival. Currently he is in deep meditation, so I was put in charge to meet with you.”

Pattering could be heard scratching along the floors as a very familiar but bigger form of Sinew began to approach, in a jog she stopped just outside the threshold her claws scraping into the stone as she waited with a wagging tail and lulled forked tongue for Seren to come up. Her excited panting breath echoed off the walls.

“Of course it seems Sinew is rather excited to see you as well. Please follow me.”

Varin sat in the center of his meditative chamber. The temple hummed around him with old power, a clashing of light and dark like a constant war, tipping from one side to the other. The red sand that coated the walls and floors around him now crystallized from the exposed heat he released during training session, glimmered like crimson diamonds when hit by the sun giving a near eerie red light show that slowly revolved around the temple from the collapsed roof.

He was concentrating on his connection with Ignati, deepening their understanding of each other. The bond they have been building has been complicated, a forever tug of war on control. But Varin has been gaining ground. The heat waves pulsed off of his body as the runic brands dimmed and brightened in the same pace, his breathing controlled and slow following the same pace as well.

She is here, boy. Better get presentable.

Varin’s eyes opened, the orange glow within his eyes slowly dimming and dulling back to his dark brown as he stood up and grabbed his shirt and robe. Black base colors with maroon trim outlining the edges of fabric. His boots crunched nearby crimson glass that had started to form around him while he meditated. Grabbing his saber hilt he then clipped it to his belt and made his way to meet with her.

Upon seeing her enter the temple, the corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile. He gave a slow nod towards her.

“Seren, welcome. I trust CC and Sinew helped you after your landing?”

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren inclined her head slightly toward CC-14 as he addressed her, the desert wind tugging once at the edge of her cloak before settling again.

"It was quiet," she replied evenly. "Malachor released me without resistance. The transition was clean."

Her gaze followed his briefly toward her ship, not with concern but with the reflex of someone accustomed to assessing risk after travel through hostile space, before returning to him as he spoke of Varin. A small, acknowledging nod followed.

"I would expect him to be in meditation," she said softly. There was no impatience in her voice, only familiarity with the habits of those who lived between stillness and intensity. "Please, lead on."

Before she moved, a familiar sound reached her.

Seren's expression shifted, subtle but unmistakable, as Sinew came into view. She lowered herself just enough to be closer to the creature's eye level, careful not to cross fully into the temple's shadow yet, and reached into a small pouch at her belt. From it, she drew a strip of dried, spiced meat, scored and cured for easy tearing.

"For you," she murmured, offering it openly in her palm rather than tossing it. It was an invitation, not a command.

Only once Sinew accepted, tail wagging and claws scraping lightly against stone, did Seren rise again. She gave CC-14 a polite nod and followed him inside.

Crossing the threshold, the change was immediate.

Heat layered over her skin, not oppressive but present, carrying the mingled resonance she had already felt from outside. Light and Dark did not clash here. They circled, unresolved and attentive. Sunlight poured through breaks in the ceiling, catching on crystallized sand and fractured stone, casting slow-moving red-gold reflections across the chamber.

When Varin emerged, Seren's attention settled fully on him.

She noted the residual heat in the air, the fading glow in his eyes, the way the temple itself seemed to quiet. Not halt, but listen, as he approached. She returned his nod with one of her own, unhurried.

"They did," she said. "Both of them."

Her gaze flicked briefly to Sinew, then returned to Varin, steady and present.

"It is good to see you."

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Sinew sniffed the dried meat, testing the scent before pulling it into its mouth with her tongue. Her powerful jaws breaking down the meat with no issues. The sound drew Varin’s gaze towards her, a smirk appearing on his face.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you again.”

He looked back to her. His eyes meeting hers.

“She has become spoiled, you know. She refuses to sleep unless there is some heat nearby. So I had to get her something akin to your hearth. Whenever I'm here training or meditating she's right there beside it.”

He chuckled lightly.

“Thank you CC for helping her inside. Keep an eye on her ship, can’t take chances with raiders.”

CC bowed towards him.

"Of course, Master Varin."

Varin stepped past her to look outside, reaching with his senses for any influence of raiders. Though they learned to not come near, especially this close to the temple he resided in.

“They tried to raid me one night. I sent them back with the burnt remains of their pack leader. Haven’t seen them sense, but I always watch.”

He would not say it aloud, but he had missed her company. She brought something to him he seemed to struggle to retain most of the time when he was alone. Clarity. She made it seem like he could be someone or something else than some barbaric warrior.

He looked back at her.

“I hope your garden is fairing well? It was rather tough soil there. If need be I can bring something more rich when I visit again.”

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren's attention followed Sinew for a moment as the creature happily finished the treat, a faint warmth touching her expression before she looked back to Varin.

"It is doing well," she said. "Not quickly. Not easily. But that was never the nature of the place."

She folded her hands loosely at her waist as she spoke, voice steady and unhurried.

"The soil taught me its limits early. What it would accept and what it would reject without compromise. I had to stop trying to make it resemble anything else and listen instead." A faint pause, thoughtful rather than heavy. "Some things thrive there once you stop insisting they become what they are not."

Her gaze lifted briefly, meeting his again.

"I have learned what can grow and what cannot. What plants need shelter. What survives only when left alone. It has been…instructive."

A subtle shift of weight followed, comfortable, present.

"But the garden holds. It is alive. That is enough for now."

She glanced once toward the temple entrance, then back to him.

"And you need not trouble yourself with carrying soil across worlds. When you visit again, your presence will be a contribution enough."

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Varin watched her as she spoke, attention only on her and her voice. Gardening with Seren came as a bit of a surprise, but learning to deal with what you have in rough terrain is the first step to a successful bounty.

He stepped closer to her, almost beside her, giving some space. She clearly had the experience needed to know what grew and what did not, although a hairs thought slipped into his head.

“Something tells me you're not just speaking about the plants.”

He crossed his arms behind his back in a more relaxed but still disciplined stance.

“Korriban, though vastly different, still holds numerous similarities. Adaptation and tough exteriors are necessities on this planet to survive. Even the Tuk'ata have had to adapt. Most going without food for months. Their senses sharpen with their drive to survive.”

He ran his hand down one of the stone pillars bearing the mark of claws gouged into the rocky surface from certain predators.

“Also like Malachor, Korriban has ways of speaking truth. Only it does not always whisper. It prefers to unveil it through history, stories and legends in carvings, holocrons or architecture.”

He looked back at her, his voice low but not quiet. Echoing off the walls of emptiness.

“Wherever you wish to start, I will be right beside you. This temple holds many rooms and halls, I have marked the ones I have already ventured.”

He stepped beside her, gesturing his hand towards the inside of the temple.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren listened without interrupting, her attention drifting briefly from the rough soil at their feet to the stonework rising around them. When he spoke of adaptation, of sharpened senses and survival stripped down to its essentials, there was no disagreement in her expression, only recognition.

She inclined her head slightly at his first remark, a faint acknowledgment rather than a denial.

"Rarely am I speaking only about plants," she said calmly. "Living things and places are not so different. Both reveal what they are willing to sustain, and what they reject outright."

Her gaze lifted to the pillar he touched, following the gouges scored deep into the stone. She studied them the way a scholar might study script, patiently and attentively, before letting her eyes travel farther along the wall, where time-worn inscriptions and half-buried reliefs lay fractured but not erased.

"As a Jedi, we were trained to read spaces like this," Seren continued color=#3B5B6E]"Not just the language, but the intent behind it. Temples speak in layers. What was meant to be taught openly, what was meant to be understood only after reflection, and what was never meant to survive intact."[/color]

She stepped closer to the wall, careful not to cross deeper into the interior yet. Her fingers hovered just short of the stone, not touching.

"These inscriptions are still aligned to the Light in form, but not in certainty. That makes them vulnerable," she said, glancing back at him. "Not to destruction, but to reinterpretation."

Her eyes returned to the carvings.

"If you wish to corrupt this temple, forcing it will only fracture it. But if we read what it believed itself to be, what truths it tried to preserve, we can begin to introduce doubt. Not lies. Questions. Context. Reframing."

A pause, then quieter, more deliberate.

"Light that must be defended against scrutiny is already weakening."

She turned back toward him fully now.

"Let me read what remains. Not to cleanse it, but to understand it. From there, you can decide how the temple should change, and what it must be allowed to keep, if it is to endure."

Her tone carried no instruction, only an offer.

"History is Korriban's chosen language," she said softly. "If you wish the temple to listen, it helps to speak fluently."

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

His eyes looked towards her as she confessed her history as a Jedi, or at least experience with them. Luckily she seemed to have a lot of experience unlocking secrets and discovering stories and lessons from ancient carvings. He stepped beside her, looking at the inscriptions as well.

Though faded, their message still held the weight that it did when it was first carved.

“So we redefine this temple?”

His voice had a hint of confusion to it. But as she spoke he slowly began to understand.

“We shift the temples lessons, and its doctrines. The temple may speak of the Jedi being powerful enough to stop the Sith, but look at them now. Their people broken, their hope cast away, like history teaches the Jedi run away in cowardice leaving nothing but their derelict temples and doctrines.”

He paused for a moment in thought as he ran his hand down the carvings, the wear and tear of the building created its own texture beneath his palm. Scripts that were worn to a point of being almost unreadable were still inscribed within the walls.

“The more we understand it, the more we redefine it. Soon convincing it to open its secrets to us willingly. Perhaps its will is already weakened?”

A broken spirit was still a broken spirit in his eyes. Some things and some people required a specific touch to break.

He hesitated for a moment before he asked his next question.

“...How long were you with the Jedi? Did you come to the dark side willingly?”

His eyes found hers, not with any sign of malicious intent or aggression, but of genuine curiosity.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren did not answer him immediately.

She let his words settle first, the way one lets dust fall after disturbing old stone. Her gaze lingered on the carvings beneath his hand, on the places where meaning had been worn thin by time rather than erased by force. When she finally looked back at him, there was no defensiveness in her expression. Only clarity.

"Redefinition is not destruction," she said quietly. "It is acknowledgment. The Jedi believed their teachings were immutable, that truth was something fixed. This temple believed that too. Time has proven otherwise."

She stepped closer to the wall, close enough that the red sun filtered through a broken opening above and traced faint lines of light across her features.

"You are right about one thing," Seren continued. "The Jedi spoke often of balance, of guardianship, of strength in restraint. But when the galaxy demanded endurance, they fractured. They retreated. They left their sanctuaries behind and called it wisdom."

Her fingers brushed the stone at last, light and reverent rather than possessive.

"This temple remembers that abandonment. Not as bitterness, but as absence. That is where its certainty eroded."

When he asked his question, she did not look away.

"I was with the Jedi long enough to understand them," she said evenly. "Long enough to see what they feared, and what they refused to confront in themselves."

There was no bitterness in her voice. No regret.

"I did not fall," Seren said. "I left."

Her eyes held his, steady and unflinching.

"I chose the Dark Side willingly. Not for power alone, and not out of anger. I chose it because it does not pretend the shadow does not exist. It teaches you to face it, shape it, and take responsibility for what you become."

A pause, deliberate.

"The Jedi asked me to deny half of myself and call it virtue. The Dark Side asked me to know myself fully."

She inclined her head slightly, not in submission, but in honesty.

"So yes," Seren concluded softly. "If this temple's will is weakened, it is not because it was defeated. It is because it has been waiting to be understood differently."

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He knew it, that her knowledge of such things far outweighed his. The way she spoke of this place, She hadn’t been here for five minutes and already it was like she knew the temple intimately.

“The Jedi have always been afraid of change, they have always fought it. It’s why they are always doomed to fail. You and I both know, adaptation is key to survival.”

His hand absently trailed down the walls, gently passing over hers. He stopped.

A pause as he made an internal debate to keep it there or remove it. Finally his hand slowly pulled away.

“Clinging to doctrines and teachings that will always crumble under real pressure. This temple serves as that example. It crumbles while some Sith temples older than it still stand strong. Unbent.”

He folded his arms in front of him, his fists lightly clenched. Ever since his time on Malachor he had been thinking of her nonstop. Thinking of her secrets and what knowledge she holds. But there was something else, something he could not quite put his finger on.

When he saw her he had an internal excitement. It was quite…odd for him.

“I’m glad you chose the dark side, if I am honest with you.”

He glanced at her as he gave her a bit more space, stepping back so as not to block her light.

He fell quiet after his last statement, as if it had snuck up on him.

“What do you suggest we do about the Jedi spirit that haunts the temple?”

His question was quiet almost as if he mumbled it, but it still carried. He shifted his body so that he was facing the opening of the temple, glancing to the expanse of sand before them. Outside the wind whistled its own haunting tune that only Korriban knew. Some of the wind seemed to bleed into the temple from the various openings in the walls and ceiling.

The sun already began to drift over the dunes as if ready to bury itself. In the distance howls of roaming sithspawn packs could be heard, though they were some distance away, no immediate threat. Varin had spent time in these dunes, he knew patterns for hunting. When to go out and when to stay inside. His hand slowly drifted to his saber hilt as if to just touch it, a security to him that he was ready should any situation arise.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren did not answer immediately.

She noticed the way his hand had brushed past hers, the hesitation that followed, the deliberate withdrawal. She let it pass without comment, without shifting closer or farther away. Some moments did not need to be named to be understood.

Her attention remained on the wall for a beat longer, fingers hovering just off the stone as the wind threaded through the broken ceiling above them. When she finally turned, it was not abrupt. It was measured, as though she were aligning herself to the question rather than reacting to it.

"A spirit does not linger because it is strong," she said quietly. "It lingers because it is unresolved."

Her gaze drifted toward the open archway, the red light of the sinking sun spilling across sand and ruin alike.

"If you try to dominate it, it will resist. If you try to erase it, it will fracture the place further. That is the mistake the Sith often make here." She looked back at him then, calm and steady. "And it is the mistake the Jedi made everywhere."

She stepped closer to the wall again, this time resting her fingertips lightly against the stone, not pressing, not claiming. "This temple was built to teach certainty," she continued. "That the Light was correct because it was the Light. That doubt was a failure. That adaptation was a compromise."

A faint pause. "The spirit that remains is not guarding doctrine. It is guarding identity." Her fingers traced the edge of a half-eroded symbol, more felt than seen.

"So we do not confront it as enemies," Seren said. "We confront it as witnesses. We let it see what became of the certainty it clung to. We show that the temple still stands not because its teachings were immutable, but because they are being questioned."

She withdrew her hand at last and turned fully toward him. "Spirits fade when their purpose is fulfilled," she added. "And nothing terrifies a Jedi ideal more than realizing it no longer has a monopoly on meaning."

Her tone softened slightly, not less firm, just more personal. "We do not need to banish it, Varin. We let it listen. Let it doubt. Let it decide whether it still belongs here."

A final glance toward the deepening desert, toward the distant howls. "If it cannot adapt," she finished, "then it will leave on its own."

She did not reach for his saber hand, but she did not shy from it either.

The choice, as always, remained his.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He listened to her words, digesting them. Watching as the sun dipped lower, the chill in the air began to creep in. Varin snapped his fingers and torches along the walls lit up making it easier to see.

He then felt her presence closer to him again. Almost as if lost in a trance of thought his hand reached out for hers, gently wrapping his fingers over her hand. The warmth of his body giving off a comfort of heat.

He kept his eyes forward for a moment longer, before meeting her gaze.

“What plan do you have?”

He stood to face her after he spoke. His black robes swayed with the light wind that found its way into the temple. The red tint now becoming a faint purple in the sky. The shade suited her.

A color of mystery and of secrets. Almost seeming fitting that it would show up at this time.

The drop in temperature was not unnoticed to him as he watched Sinew venture further into the temple towards the bedding area where he kept her very own hearth he had made for her.

“I am thankful you are helping me with this. Had I continued with the path I was going to use, I would have failed my first ever task as an acolyte to my master.”

His voice echoed off the walls, the sounds of night insects began to chirp and sing their songs in the cooler temperature.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren did not pull her hand away.

If anything, she allowed her fingers to settle more fully into his grasp as they began to move together, their pace unhurried as they followed the outer corridor where firelight and shadow braided along the ancient stone. His warmth was steady against the creeping cold, a quiet counterbalance to the heat draining from the air as daylight relinquished its hold. The contrast was immediate and grounding, and she did not ignore it.

The temperature change announced itself clearly. Day gave way without ceremony, the warmth leaching from the air as though drawn back into the sand itself. Night did not soften the world here. It sharpened it. Torchlight deepened the planes of his face and cast deliberate shadows along the fall of his robes, emphasizing lines that daylight had blurred. Darkness did not hide him. It clarified him. Seren was aware of her gaze lingering a fraction longer than necessary before she redirected it, the awareness acknowledged but not indulged.

"It always looks different at this hour," she said quietly, her voice low enough not to disturb the rhythm of the place. Her eyes lifted briefly toward the broken ceiling where the last traces of violet sky bled into black. "When the Light withdraws, what remains no longer has to compete with it. Structures like this stop pretending to be what they were meant to be."

Her thumb brushed lightly against his knuckles, an absent, thoughtful motion rather than a deliberate one.

"That is when places like this speak most clearly," Seren continued. "Not loudly. Not dramatically. But honestly."

They walked a few steps farther before she spoke again, her attention drifting from the stone beneath their feet to the fractured carvings lining the walls. "My plan is simple in concept, though not in execution," she said. "We begin by identifying where the spirit anchors itself. Not where it manifests or lashes out, but where it remembers itself. Jedi spirits bind to moments of certainty. A vow sworn without doubt. A failure reframed as righteousness. A choice they never allowed themselves to question."

She gestured faintly with her free hand toward the branching corridors ahead.

"We do not provoke it. We do not summon it. That would only reinforce its sense of purpose. Instead, we alter the environment around it. We reshape the narrative of the space. We change the questions the temple is asking of itself until the answers it clings to suffice no longer."

Her gaze returned to him, steady and intent.

"You have already begun doing that," Seren added. "Whether you realized it or not. The way you move through this place, the way you allow it to change rather than dominate it. That matters."

When he spoke of failure, of his master, she slowed just enough that their steps fell into an easier, more deliberate rhythm, still side by side, still connected. "You would not have failed," she said, her tone neither dismissive nor indulgent, but assured. "But you might have learned the wrong lesson. There is a difference."

They came to a stop near a partially collapsed archway, torchlight flickering across fractured stone and half-erased carvings. Seren turned to face him fully, their hands still entwined, unbroken by hesitation or second thought. "First tasks are rarely about success," she said more gently. "They are about orientation. About learning how you respond when certainty is taken away."

She met his gaze, calm and patient. "What did your master ask of you?"

Varin Mortifer