Private Where Shadows Learn to Linger

[Varin Mortifer]

“Ah but I’m not your average furnace.”

The small bit of humor rushed out of his mouth followed by a chuckle.

“I have a feeling I would find comfort, uncomfortable. At least until I get used to it, like this so-called full nights rest you speak of.”

He slung the pack over his shoulder and gave her another smirk.

“For me, the lantern is a necessity. Just in case. I have a lot of gifts, night vision is not one of them.”

He smiled at her, oh the compliments he could flood her with right now. But now was a time to get a bit more serious. Soon they would be delving into unfamiliar territory. Their wits would need to be sharp.

He gave her a nod and led the way into one of the halls ahead. Their foot falls echoing off the walls deeper than the previous room since the only escape for sound was behind them. The torches lit a pathway for them as they traversed, slight warmth coming off of them. After descending some way they could already see their breath, almost like walking into a fridge.

He looked back at Seren to make sure she was still with him.

“The carvings start to become more clear the further you go. Less touched by the elements, less wind erosion. They will still be worn but they will be legible.”

Small echoes of falling pebbles could be heard throughout the temple, they passed by small rooms that served as sleeping quarters, open areas that seemed to be studies. Their footfalls echoed deeper as they descended. Finally Varin stopped. The torches no longer lit the path. He reached into his bag pulling out the lantern, a flip of a switch and a gradual hum emanated from it as it brightened a reasonable radius around them.

The room they were in was full of shelves from ancient holodisks and older parchments. The clicking from the shelves showed that some of them were still active.

“This is where I stopped before.”

He looked back to Seren.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren slowed beside him as the lantern's light settled into the space, its glow revealing dust, age, and intent in equal measure. She did not immediately step forward. Instead, she let her awareness unfurl, attentive not just to what the light revealed, but to what it did not.

Her breath fogged faintly in the cold air, but she did not seem bothered by it. If anything, the chill sharpened her focus.

"You are not wrong," she said quietly, her voice low so it did not carry too far into the shelves and corridors beyond. "Comfort is a discipline like any other. It resists those who approach it unprepared."

A faint trace of humor touched her tone, subtle and restrained.

"And full nights of rest tend to feel invasive when one is accustomed to vigilance," Seren added. "The body does not always trust stillness right away."

Her gaze moved from the lantern's halo to the shelves themselves. She took in the arrangement first, rather than the contents, noting the spacing, the preservation, and that some systems still quietly lived.

"You chose well in stopping here," she continued. "Repositories are rarely placed at random. They are positioned where noise thins and attention must be deliberate."

She stepped forward now, careful, respectful of the space, her fingers hovering just short of the nearest shelf without touching it.

"These carvings and records were meant to be read slowly," Seren said. "Not under duress. Not while fleeing. That tells us something about the people who made this place."

Her eyes flicked briefly back to him, acknowledging his presence before returning to the ancient storage.

"You were right about the erosion," she went on. "The deeper we go, the less the temple has been rewritten by weather or time. What remains here is closer to intent than survival."

She paused, letting that thought settle, then inclined her head slightly.

"If this is where you stopped," Seren said gently, "then this is where the temple decided you were ready to listen, but not yet to proceed."

Her attention returned to the shelves, thoughtful rather than eager.

"We should begin here," she finished calmly. "Not by taking, but by understanding what it chose to preserve."

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

“My family thrived in discomfort. The only time we had anything to be considered comfort was after a successful hunt. We would have feasts.”

He set the lantern down as she spoke. The soft clicking and faint humming of some still working older tech rung in the air with their own quiet symphony.

“The first time I came here, I felt I shouldn’t be here alone. And that I should not be here with the intention of destruction. I feel like there is something I need in here.”

He gave her a nod.

“Some of their writings seemed to be in another language I can’t understand.”

He walked over to a set of written parchment he had set aside when he first came here.

“I don’t know if there is a Jedi equivalent to High Sith, but it does seem old. Very old.”

He picked up the pages and brought them to her. The ends of the edges already yellowed with age. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a cube.

“I also found this. Possibly a holocron?”

He set it on an old table right by the lantern and the stack of papers dust that had covered the surface of the table was now disturbed, unsettled. It scattered into the air and slowly drifted back down in a cloud of its own. Finally he pulled out his datapad.

“I even tried to run scans on them but I have to admit, I’m not really all that tech savvy. We didn’t have a lot of tech on my home planet unless it was military related.”

He looked over at her, sweat slightly beading over his forehead. A drop began to fall down his face and his arm moved to wipe it away. Though he did not look like it, his body was working harder to keep him warm from the cold, just like someone constantly running they begin to sweat, this was no different. A survival response but if left unchecked he can wear himself out.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren accepted the parchments from him with care, adjusting her grip so the brittle edges were supported rather than stressed. She did not rush. Instead, she let her eyes move slowly across the markings, following structure before meaning, cadence before translation.

"This is not High Sith," she said after a moment, her tone calm and assured. "It is an early form of Jedi script. Older than what most Orders teach now."

Her fingers traced the air just above the page, never touching the ink itself.

"Before the modern Galactic Standard became dominant, the Jedi preserved their deeper philosophies in what is sometimes called Classical Jedi," Seren continued. "It borrows structure from ancient Rakatan-era linguistic frameworks and early High Galactic, but it is intentionally obtuse. Meaning is layered. Translation requires context, not just vocabulary."

She glanced up at him briefly.

"It was designed to slow the reader down," she added. "To prevent certainty without reflection."

The parchments were set carefully back atop the table before her attention shifted to the cube. She studied it without activating it, noting proportions, seams, and the way the Force gathered around it rather than radiated outward.

"And yes," Seren said quietly, "this is a holocron. A Jedi holocron."

There was no surprise in her voice, only confirmation.

"It has not been awakened," she observed. "At least, not fully. It is dormant, but intact. That alone makes it rare."

Her gaze lingered on it for a few seconds longer than strictly necessary before she straightened.

"I would prefer to examine it more closely in your living area," Seren said. "The ambient cold here interferes with subtle Force resonance, and I would rather not provoke its gatekeeper without preparation."

Only then did she look back at him properly.

She noticed the sheen of sweat along his temple. The contrast was subtle but unmistakable. Cold air. Heat exertion. His body was working harder than it should.

She did not comment on it. Not yet.

Instead, her expression softened just slightly.

"You were right to stop here," Seren said evenly. "And you were right not to approach this with destruction in mind. Whatever you are meant to find, this place will not yield it to force alone."

Her eyes returned briefly to the holocron, thoughtful.

"It has been waiting," she added. "And it is aware that you are different from those who came before."

She met his gaze again, steady and present.

"Let us take these back," Seren finished quietly. "Then we can listen properly."

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Varin listened to her and a light scoff left his lips.

“Of course Jedi would make something as simple as reading so difficult.”

He sighed as she set the holocron down. Heat radiated from his body but was muted from the layers of fabric he wore. He looked down at the holocron, examining it. He did feel its slight pulse in the force.

“I can already tell it will fight back regardless. Usually holocrons open themselves to those it seeks. Or so I have heard.”

He gently picked it back up, the soft deep blue tint pulsed faintly as he looked over the silver inlays that marked its edges.

He looked over at the shelves as if he felt a pull, but for now he paid no mind to it. It felt…off. After a moment he decided to check it out.

“I’ll be right back.”

He left the lantern for her and wandered into the shelves, taking a few turns before he felt the need to stop. He looked around for a moment, and another sigh left him before he turned to walk back. His foot knocked into something old, hollow and light. He stopped.

Looking down he noticed a long decayed corpse of what used to be a Jedi, just dust and bones, sitting on the floor leaning back on the shelves. It had nothing in its hands, even its robes were ragged. But he felt the need to move it. Gently placing his hand on its shoulder he shifted the body off the shelves.

Behind it was an old holodisk, still humming and clicking. But it was not in a container.

His brow furrowed as he picked it up. As he touched it his hand ran over a few grooves in the shelves, he produced a small flame to see better. Marked all over the shelf seemed to be claw marks. Unknown as to what the creature was, but he knew it was not Tuk’ata.

His eyes squinted before he snuffed the flame and brought the holodisk back over to her.

“I felt a pull to this. Hiding behind a Jedi corpse. But there was something else there that raises some concern, claw marks unlike anything I have ever seen. And I don’t know how old they are.”

He looked at her, a determined glare in his eye, a protective stance over his body as if he were sharpening his senses a bit more to stay aware.

“Neither of us go anywhere alone. Alright?”

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren did not flinch when he returned, nor when he set the holodisk between them. Her attention had already shifted the moment she felt the subtle change in the air around him, as if his presence sharpened, as if something had unsettled his inner balance. She had seen that posture before. Readiness layered over restraint.

She looked first at the holodisk, then at the direction he had come from, then back to him.

"You were right to bring this back," she said calmly, without urgency but with weight. "A pull like that is rarely random in places built to train intuition."

She reached out, not to activate the disk yet, but to hover her fingers just above it, feeling the residual hum rather than forcing engagement.

"This is not a holocron," Seren continued, thoughtful. "At least not in the Sith or Jedi sense. It is a holodisk, yes, but older than standardized containment. Likely meant to be accessed once, or by someone standing in a particular context."

Her gaze lifted at the mention of the corpse, softening only slightly.

"The fact it was hidden behind remains matters," she added. "Not as a trap. As a last decision. Someone chose concealment over preservation."

She finally looked toward the shelves again, eyes narrowing as she processed his description of the claw marks.

"Claw damage that old tells me two things," Seren said evenly. "First, whatever made them is no longer active here. Second, it did not belong to the ecosystem the Jedi expected."

A pause. Careful, deliberate.

"Jedi architecture discourages beasts. They design spaces to repel predatory instincts. If something marked those shelves, it was either Force-sensitive or desperate."

She drew her hand back from the disk, folding it loosely with the other.

"Either way, it is not something we chase in the dark," Seren said. "Not yet."

When he spoke again, when he set the boundary aloud, her eyes returned to his, steady and unwavering.

"Agreed," she answered without hesitation. "No separation. Not because of fear, but because this place rewards patience more than bravery."

A faint, knowing curve touched her expression.

"Besides," Seren added quietly, "Jedi ruins have a habit of revealing exactly what they want you to see the moment you assume you are alone."

She gestured subtly toward the lantern and the path back toward his living space.

"We take this with us," she said of the holodisk. "We examine it where the temple is already accustomed to you. Context matters. Especially when something has waited this long to be found."

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than necessary, assessing, then softened just enough to reassure.

"You did well," Seren said simply. "Instinct without impulse is exactly what this place is trying to teach you."

She did not move ahead of him. She waited, deliberately, so they would leave together.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Varin kept his eyes looking around the area as she spoke. Something did not sit well with him here.

“I do feel like something is here though. Maybe deeper.”

Varin spoke softly, slowly looking over his shoulder towards the shelves he just came from.

“I didn’t notice any scorch marks, it's like they just gave up and let whatever happened happen..”

His gaze found hers.

“And what if it hunts us?”

He helped her gather the parchments, the holodisk and the holocron, carefully placing them in his bag, he looked at the lantern and followed the lit circle that it produced. He did not see any shadows, nor did he hear any noises.

Her voice echoed saying he did well. He froze. His eyes slowly fell back to her.

“Normally if I had this feeling I would try to hunt the creature down before it found me.”

He picked up the still lit lantern and hooked it to a strap on his bag, then walked up to her.

“I may have to come back for it. It's too much of a risk to just leave, but I will stay with you to help figure out what these pages are, and the other items.”

He gave her another soft glance.

“After you, I’ll take the rear.”

As Varin followed her out of the room he heard something shift deeper inside. Dust unsettled, a slight scrape that was just barely audible. He stopped and glanced behind him one last time.

Nothing…

He followed behind her again as they ascended back into the torch lit area. As they continued through the familiar spaces he would pause for a moment and quickly glance at a corner or inside of an old living chamber, thinking he saw a shadow. It would still be nothing.

They finally made it a bit further out and Varin heard a breath. Not his, not Seren’s but something. Bestial and hungry. Varin quickly grabbed his saber hilt and turned around with a growl, eyes flared, ready to release his aggression.

…nothing.

He took a deep breath and clicked the hilt back to his belt. They were finally in the hall heading towards his living chambers. Close to home. It still didn't feel right. Something was following, but staying just out of sight. He could tell.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren did not contradict him. She did not dismiss the unease, nor did she sharpen it with speculation. That, in itself, was a form of agreement.

As they moved, her pace remained measured and unhurried, but her awareness expanded quietly outward, like breath filling the lungs rather than a blade being drawn. She felt the same pressure he did—the sense of attention without presence, of movement that never quite committed to form. It was not the sensation of something stalking them through hunger or rage. It was older than that. Curious. Patient.

It was not hunting. That distinction mattered.

She did not look back when he paused, nor when dust shifted faintly in places the lantern light did not reach. The temple had a way of amplifying absence as much as presence, and she let it do so without interference. Whatever lingered deeper within the halls was measuring them, learning their rhythms. Seren allowed it for now.

When they crossed fully back into the broader living chamber, the atmosphere changed almost immediately. The tension loosened, not vanished, but redistributed. The hearth's warmth pooled low and steady, familiar and grounding. The geometry of habitation: the bedding, the tools, the marks of routine, anchored the Force in something closer to balance. This place knew Varin. It responded to him.

Only then did Seren slow.

She helped set the recovered parchments and artifacts aside with care, aligning them deliberately rather than stacking them, as if order itself mattered. Then she stepped away from the table and into the center of the chamber. Torchlight flickered as she drew a slow, controlled breath in, then released it.

The shadows responded.

Not violently. Not theatrically.

They lengthened subtly, gathering where stone fractured and corridors narrowed. Darkness pooled into corners, braided itself into thresholds, and traced the seams where ancient halls bled into one another. They did not block the passage. They did not close the doors. They watched.

The air felt steadier for it.

"You are not wrong," Seren said quietly, her voice even, carrying without echo. "Something is aware of us."

Her hand lifted slowly, fingers curling with deliberate restraint. The shadows sharpened at their edges in response, not aggressive, simply attentive.

"But it is observing, not pursuing," she continued. "Predators that intend to strike do not linger this long without testing boundaries."

Her gaze drifted briefly toward the darker corridors beyond the living space, where the torchlight thinned, and stone swallowed sound, before returning to him.

"I am placing a passive ward," Seren explained. "Not a barrier. Nothing that challenges or provokes."

The shadows shifted again, thinning where they needed to breathe, deepening where watchfulness mattered. They formed a quiet lattice of presence—alert, patient, listening.

"If anything crosses the threshold with intent," she said, her tone calm but certain, "I will know. Immediately."

She lowered her hand, and the Force settled as naturally as a held breath finally released. The room did not darken further. If anything, it felt more composed, as though the space itself had accepted the arrangement.

"This will not drain you," Seren added, softer now. "Or me. It is listening, not resisting."

She met his eyes then, fully, her expression unalarmed and grounded.

"We eat," she said simply. "We study. We rest."

A pause followed, not heavy, but intentional.

"Whatever is following us," Seren finished quietly, "will learn patience tonight."

She turned back toward the table, toward the parchments and the holocron, moving as though nothing further needed to be said—trusting that if something did change, the shadows would speak first.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

They had both finally made it to his living quarters. The familiar space was a very welcoming sight, the warmer air finally making it feel like he can breathe again as a bit more sweat trailed down his brow. He set the bag down helping her gather the items they collected, then watched her change the shadows. They looked alive, pulling and pushing into each other. The red sun that still held into the air almost sharpening these shadows that watched after them.

They set everything up and Varin removed the heavier jacket and extra layers so he was back down to his more lighter attire. Similar to under armor, specifically designed to take on higher temperatures. The excess heat had to breathe so he could stop trying to over heat. After a few moments he finally stopped sweating, the scent of hot fabric filled the air.

“It’s also intelligent. Extremely intelligent. Likely has a bit of sentience as well.”

He sat down across from her at the table, breathing slowly to regulate the temperature a bit more.

“This ward, it has a mind of its own?”

He looked down the darkened hallway, studying how the shadows seemed to almost pulse like they themselves were alive. It was impressive. He had seen manipulation of shadows before but nothing like this.

He reached into his pack and pulled out an MRE, tearing it open to start prepping it.

“I have a very bad feeling about it.”

He didn’t doubt the abilities she was displaying, but he did wonder if the creature was smart enough to work around it. For now he tried to get his mind off of it and tried to help her study what they found, pulling out his datapad he set it up to scan the writings to help translate.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren let the living space settle around them before she answered. The shadows were already doing what she had asked of them, no dramatics, no display for its own sake, just attention. They leaned into corners, stretched along thresholds, folded themselves into places the light did not linger. Not a barrier meant to intimidate, but one meant to notice.

She glanced once down the hallway he was watching, then back to him.

"They are not a mind," she said evenly, calm and precise. "They are a habit."

As she spoke, she moved through the space with quiet familiarity, already pulling items from his stores with practiced efficiency. Containers opened, seals broken, ingredients assessed and rearranged without ceremony.

"They remember what I teach them to watch for," Seren continued. "Movement that does not belong. Pressure where there should be none. Intent that slips instead of flows. If something tests them, they do not fight it. They tell me."

A pause. Thoughtful, not dismissive.

"That said," she added, "your instincts are not wrong. Whatever is down there is not feral. It is patient. That is always more concerning."

She set water to heat, layered in dried protein and preserved vegetables, then added a packet of spice she clearly had no intention of wasting on ration bars. The scent began to shift almost immediately: from sterile and utilitarian to something warmer, more grounding.

Seren glanced at him as he worked, the glow of his datapad catching the lines of his face while the shadows breathed at the edges of the room.

"And no," she said dryly, lips curving just slightly. "The ward does not frighten it away. It discourages curiosity. Intelligent creatures prefer certainty. They dislike unanswered questions."

She stirred slowly, deliberately.

"If it tries to work around the perimeter, I will know," she continued. "If it waits, I will know that too. Tonight, we observe. We do not chase."

The meal finished sooner than expected. She portioned it out with care, then set a bowl in front of him before taking her own seat across the table.

"Eat," Seren said simply, tone soft but not optional. "Anything is better than ration bars, and your body has been burning through heat all day trying to pretend it isn't."

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, not alarmed, not probing, just quietly attentive.

"We are safe enough to rest," she added. "Alert enough to wake. That is all I ever promise."

Then she picked up her bowl, nodding once toward his datapad.

"Now," Seren went on, voice easing just a fraction, "show me what the temple is trying to say before it realizes we are listening."

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He listened to her as she made their meal, the datapad doing its slow scans as the slightly cracked screen measured each angle and line to get accurate readings. As it scanned it compared the inscriptions to other writings within the database, scanning and failing over and over. It almost seemed like a dead language. He watched the screen quietly as she explained the nature of the ward, then she slid his bowl in front of him.

“So you’ve noticed. Colder environments eat through my caloric intake faster than most, causing my body to work harder to keep myself warm.”

He spoke softly as he gently picked it up and scooped some of the food in a spoon, taking small portions into his mouth as he watched.

“Right now I’m trying to figure out what language this could be. Usually by now the language is identified, but this is being especially stubborn.”

He looked at her then back to his screen, gently taking his finger and scrolling through the different examples and images.

“I think you’re right about the language. It's extremely complex.”

He gently picked up a page and squinted to see if there was something he was missing.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren watched the datapad struggle through its cycles without interrupting it, finishing a slow bite of her meal before setting the utensil aside. The failure loops did not surprise her. Languages like this were not meant to be found by pattern recognition alone; they were meant to be remembered.

She reached for the manuscripts once the datapad finally stalled, drawing them toward herself and spreading them across the table with deliberate care. Her fingers did not rush. They traced margins, followed the cadence of repeated symbols, and noted where strokes softened or sharpened depending on placement.

"This is not High Galactic, nor a derivative meant to be translated mechanically," she said calmly. "It predates standardization. Early Jedi texts favored layered meaning, with concepts embedded within other concepts. The Force was not described. It was circled."

She glanced at the datapad, then gently turned it off herself.

"Your scanner is looking for direct equivalence," Seren continued. "These symbols do not function that way. Each one carries context and ritual use. Emotional intent. Even the state of the writer when it was carved. That is why it keeps failing."

Her attention shifted to him when he spoke about the cold, her gaze sharpening slightly. Not concern yet, but calculation. She nodded once, slow and thoughtful.

"Yes," she said, quiet but certain. "Partially."

Her eyes flicked briefly in the direction of the fissure before returning to him.

"The binding draws heat, pressure, and energy toward itself. You compensate instinctively. Over time, that kind of imbalance wears the body down. Especially in cold environments."

Not an accusation. Observation. She lifted one of the pages again, angling it toward the lantern.

"These passages speak of guardianship, not dominion," Seren said as she began translating aloud, her voice steady and measured. "This chamber was meant to hold knowledge during collapse. Not to weaponize it. The Jedi who remained here were archivists, not warriors."

A brief pause. "That may explain the remains you found."

She then reached for the holocron, turning it carefully in her hands. The faint pulse did not go unnoticed. She closed her eyes for a moment, centering herself before attempting contact.

"This will not be simple," Seren admitted. "The gatekeeper will be keyed to Jedi alignment. Neither of us qualifies by doctrine." A faint, knowing curve touched her mouth. "But doctrine has never been the same thing as understanding."

She took another small bite of her meal, grounding herself, then rested the holocron between her palms, letting the Force brush against its surface rather than press.

"I will not force it open," she said quietly. "I will listen. If it speaks, it will do so because it chooses to."

Her eyes opened again, meeting his briefly.

"If the gatekeeper rejects me, we stop," Seren added. "If it hesitates, that tells us just as much."

She lowered her gaze back to the holocron, breath slow, posture composed, shadows at the edges of the room settling into watchful stillness as she reached carefully and respectfully for whatever waited inside.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

“The Jedi always love to complicate matters. That seems to be their specialty. But, surely, even archivists would have security?”

He watched her shift the papers after his datapad gave a negative match. No wonder the Jedi also did not have a lot of history archived. Most of it just seemed like random gibberish. She then picked up the holocron, gently holding it in her palms as it pulsed.

Varin’s eyes stayed glued on the device as she concentrated. Eventually his breathing matched hers, eyes closed. He felt a pulse in the room. Not one of his, Seren’s nor Sinew’s. It was slow, calm, steady. Expertly steady. Like there was another presence in the room.

Varin’s eyes slowly opened as he watched the holocron pulse a vibrant blue, one side beginning to twist.

He watched it closely as it slowly ticked like a tiny gear, attempting to click the side into place.

“...Seren?”

He spoke almost in a whisper as the side clicked.

“What is it doing?”

He watched as the pulses seemed to stay brighter as it continued on.

“I think it’s trying to open.”

His gaze fell almost like it was in a deep trance, slowly his hand began to reach for it. The slow thudding of his heart echoing in his ears, drowning out most sounds.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren felt the shift the moment it happened. Not pressure. Not resistance. Recognition.

Her eyes remained closed, but her focus sharpened, the holocron's pulse threading carefully against the edge of her awareness like a question asked without language. When Varin spoke her name, softly and uncertainly, she did not startle. She lifted one hand immediately, palm open between his reaching fingers and the device, not touching him, but stopping the motion all the same.

"Do not touch it," she said quietly, firmly, without alarm. "Not yet."

Her eyes opened then, reflecting the blue light as the holocron continued its slow, deliberate rotation. She watched it the way one watched a living thing stretch after a long sleep.

"It is not opening for power," Seren continued, her voice measured, almost reverent. "It is responding to alignment. Not Jedi. Not Sith. Intention."

She adjusted her posture slightly, grounding herself, keeping her breathing steady so the presence in the room did not tip toward urgency.

"Archivist holocrons were built differently," she explained. "Their security was not force barriers or traps. It was discernment. They waited. Sometimes for centuries. They did not open for those who sought to take. Only for those willing to listen."

The holocron clicked again, a soft sound like stone settling into its rightful place. Seren's fingers tightened just a fraction around the air near it, not grasping, but guiding the flow of the Force around the device so it did not surge.

"It feels like you're reaching," she said, glancing briefly at Varin, not accusing, simply stating a fact. "And it is curious. But if you touch it now, it will read that as a claim. It will close itself just as quickly."

Her attention returned fully to the holocron.

"This is the threshold moment," Seren murmured. "Where it decides whether the presence before it is a keeper of knowledge or a conqueror of it."

She allowed a thin thread of shadow to coil gently around the device, not binding it, but softening the light, giving the gatekeeper something familiar yet non-threatening to orient against.

"Stay with me," she added quietly, not looking away. "Breathe. Let it come to us. If it opens, it will do so on its own terms."

The presence in the room remained calm, steady, and ancient. Waiting.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

His hand stopped as she held hers up. His senses coming to him causing him to blink a few times, the next click audibly falling into place as the glow pulsed. Varin did as she suggested and he waited. He watched and he matched her breaths. It felt odd to him, following a Jedi ritual to unlock some sort of possible secrets. But he was now curious as to what was inside, though he tried not to dwell on it.

It wouldn’t be anything of substance. The older views of the Jedi always did without.

He placed his hands on his knees and slowly closed his eyes again as Sinew laid beside him, relaxing into his side. Soon his runes began to pulse, matching the pace of the holocron, as if speaking with it.

The orange glow softly clashing with the blue fade of light.

Another soft click.

Varin kept his eyes shut as he listened to the object’s sides turn and click.

Then silence.

He did not dare open his eyes at first, thinking they had failed to open it. It would have been a very frustrating outcome if it ended like that. Slowly, his eyes opened and they saw that the Holocron had done something quite odd.

It had opened.

Inside was a crystal, a soft cyan glow, runic inscriptions decorated its surfaces, lightly carved into the surface so not to destroy it. It had a feeling that was similar to a kyber crystal, but also very different. It was clearly not used for battle. His head tilted as he squinted.

“What the hell?”

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren did not react with surprise.

That, more than anything, marked how clearly she understood what lay before them.

Her gaze fixed on the crystal, not with hunger or awe, but with recognition. The kind that came from long study and longer silences spent listening to things that did not announce themselves loudly. She leaned forward slightly, careful not to disturb the balance they had achieved, letting the cyan light wash across her features as her eyes traced the shallow inscriptions.

"It was never meant to speak," she said quietly. "That is why there is no gatekeeper."

Her fingers hovered near the crystal but did not touch it. Not yet. She read the markings the way one would read a familiar but archaic dialect. Slow. Methodical. Respectful.

"This is not a kyber," Seren continued. "Nor is it a teaching crystal. It does not amplify the Force. It does not judge. It does not guide."

Her eyes lifted briefly to Varin, then returned to the object.

"It is a key."

The word settled into the room with weight.

"Archivist Orders used these when knowledge was too dangerous to leave behind yet too important to destroy. Instead of sealing doors with power, they sealed them with recognition. Only those who could reach the key without dominance were meant to find what it opens."

She straightened slightly, her expression sharpening as understanding completed its circuit.

"A lockbox. A chamber. Possibly a sealed sanctum or vault within the temple itself," Seren said. "Something physical. Something old. The inscriptions are not instructional. They are locational. Directional."

Her gaze flicked, just briefly, toward the deeper corridors beyond their living space. Toward the parts of the temple Varin had not yet opened.

"That pull you felt earlier," she added softly. "That was not the creature. That was this. The creature is still there. Make no mistake."

Only then did she allow herself a faint, knowing smile.

"And it did not open because you are Sith or because I am not Jedi," Seren said. "It opened because neither of us tried to claim it."

She finally looked at him fully now, her tone steady, grounded.

"Whatever this unlocks," she finished, "it was never meant for conquerors. It was meant for caretakers."

The crystal continued to glow between them, patient. Waiting to be used.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Her statement about the crystal not meant to speak drew his attention back to her.

“I think I disagree. I think if this is a key, then it does have a voice. One that is more direct than any other that haunts these halls.”

He looked back at the crystal.

“Especially if it is an archivist key, then it has a lot to teach.”

He did not reach for it, he thought about it, but he did not act. It was a more delicate situation to him, one that did not have a definitive use for action, it was more of a time for reflection.

“What if this is what I need to get into those more stubborn chambers?”

He brought his hand up to his chin, gently scratching the flesh. As if processing or thinking of the possibilities this item could bring him. He may even discover the root of this temple that Ignati has refused to tell him. Ignati had already been almost through the entire temple, but just like Varin he had trouble with some areas. Wards mainly.

“I have to know where this leads.”

He thought about the creature that was lurking in the dark.

“As for the creature, I wonder if it is coveting what is held? Not guarding it but perhaps it is laying its claim to it.”

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren did not contradict him immediately. Instead, she allowed his words to settle, her attention returning to the crystal as though reassessing it through the lens he had just offered. When she spoke, it was slower, more deliberate, as if refining a conclusion rather than defending one.

"You are not wrong," she said quietly. "I should be more precise."

The cyan glow reflected faintly in her eyes as she studied the inscriptions, careful not to touch.

"It does have a voice," Seren continued. "Just not one that instructs or persuades. It does not teach by telling. It teaches by answering the right question."

She shifted slightly, posture relaxed but attentive.

"Archivist keys were never meant to dispense doctrine," she said. "They were designed for those who already suspected something was missing. They grant access, not understanding. Whatever lies beyond the wards you could not open before—yes. This would almost certainly be how."

At the mention of the creature, her expression changed. Not alarmed. Focused.

"You are right to question its behavior," Seren said. "That pattern would be unusual for a simple beast."

Her fingers traced a faint line in the dust near the table, more habit than intention.

"Tuk'ata defend territory. Predators hunt food. Even Force-attuned creatures rarely fixate on objects unless those objects alter their environment."

She glanced briefly toward the darker corridors, then back to him.

"But Korriban does not produce clean examples," Seren added. "It produces exceptions—things shaped by proximity rather than instinct, exposure rather than evolution."

Her gaze sharpened, but she did not speculate further than necessary.

"If something lingers nearby," she continued, "watches, follows, withdraws instead of attacking, then it is responding to conditions. Not a purpose. Not understanding. That does not make it a guardian," Seren said evenly. "And it does not mean it covets what is here in any conscious way. Only that something sealed is leaking influence—memory, resonance, pressure—enough to change behavior."

She inclined her head slightly toward him, acknowledging his familiarity with the world and the temple alike.

"You know these halls better than I do," she said. "If something feels wrong to you, I trust that more than any theory I could offer."

Her attention returned to the crystal, thoughtful rather than eager.

"As for this," Seren said softly, "it is a key. Not a teacher. Not a speaker. It will not explain itself. It will only respond when placed where it belongs."

She met his eyes again, steady and unhurried.

"Whatever is following us may be reacting to change," she concluded. "But until it acts, I would not name its intent. Naming things too early gives them power they may not deserve."

She leaned back slightly, allowing space for thought rather than urgency.

"For now," Seren said, "we observe. We prepare. And we let the temple decide what it is willing to reveal—on its own terms."

She did not reach for the crystal. Not yet.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Varin fell quiet as he stared at the key, her words reaching him but he did not react much. A silent nod to signal he was listening and processing what she said. His finger gently tapped his knee as the key’s faint glow seemed to define his facial features more. He stood up and walked away from the table and towards one of the walls, glancing at the carvings.

The stories that had been lost to time that were once carved into these walls now lost, weathered away by wind and sand. The violent battle that ensued when the Sith reclaimed Korriban was still evident on the very structure. Most of the Ashlan Jedi temples were destroyed. He felt another soft pull back to the crystal. A soft lullaby that seemed to call him back, bounced around in his ears.

He made his way back to her and stood above her for a moment, looking down at the key.

“That thing is definitely an unfamiliar feel in these halls. What troubles me most is how long it has been here, or if it was here before me or after me.”

He crossed his arms behind him, the cyan light reflected in his brown eyes as he looked at her. Slowly he crouched down in front of her, eyes on the key. He wanted to pick it up, felt like he needed to pick it up.

Slowly he reached down. The crystal pulsed as his fingers gently picked it up.

“It…almost feels alive.”

He held it up to get another angle as he admired it. He would never admit it but the intricacy in the key was absolutely stunning.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren did not move to stop him as he lifted the crystal. She watched the interaction closely, not the object alone, but the way his posture shifted around it, the way the air in the room seemed to tighten and then settle again. When she spoke, it was calm and grounded, meant to anchor rather than excite.

"The beast," she said quietly, correcting the thread of his thought without bluntness, "not the key."

Her gaze flicked briefly toward the darker corridor before returning to him and the crystal in his hand.

"Probably before," Seren continued, her tone thoughtful rather than certain. "Especially if we are only just now brushing the edges of its territory. Creatures like that do not arrive suddenly. They settle. They adapt. They claim space slowly, the way pressure claims stone."

She leaned forward slightly, resting her forearms against her knees, eyes never leaving the crystal's glow.

"What you are feeling from this," she said, nodding faintly toward his hand, "is not life in the way flesh understands it. It is function-layered with intent. A response pattern. That can feel very similar when you are Force-sensitive."

Her eyes lifted to his face, searching his expression rather than the object.

"If the beast has been here longer than you," Seren went on, "then it has learned the rhythms of this place. The changes. The disturbances. That does not make it a guardian, but it does mean it recognizes when something shifts."

She gestured subtly toward the crystal.

"This would qualify."

A pause followed, deliberate.

"The key does not belong to the halls in the way the creature does," she added. "It belongs to intention. Whoever sealed what lies beyond those wards expected someone to come looking, eventually. The beast likely learned to linger near that threshold because change happens there."

Her voice softened slightly, not warning but steadying.

"You are not trespassing blindly," Seren said. "But you are approaching a boundary that has held for a long time. That alone is enough to draw attention."

She inclined her head just a fraction.

"So yes," she finished, "if it feels like something has been watching longer than you have been walking these halls, that instinct is likely correct."

Varin Mortifer