Star Wars STAR WARS: The Road to the Final Episode: Crisis of Twilight: Godfall

OOC: And the 'perfect' world of Zas'tel, with Sinrebirth

IC: Zas’tel
Af'El

The tunnels of Af’El were as dim as they always were as Zas’tel moved silently through them. He’d spent the day as he had many others, hunting, bringing in game for the city. Over the years he’d become the one who had trained and led the hunting parties of his city, helping it to grow by providing the food that his people needed to survive. Survive they did and thrive.

He’d taken on more and more of a role as the years went by, eventually becoming the chief hunter of his city but he still loved going out on the hunt himself. Especially as it meant that he could stop thinking, pondering, wondering why there was a niggling thought that came to him that this wasn’t right…

The tunnels were dark, of course, but it meant nothing to a Defel.

The stars shone in the night sky, but they did not penetrate the shadows that surrounded the hunter, and exposed the hunted.

There was, however, an interloper, reported by the city watch, and his senses would tell him of a wraith of another kind, unfamiliar, exciting? Two hunting parties had not returned from the jungles pursuing whomever - whatever - it was.

His musings interrupted by the report, Zas’tel straightened, letting his senses drift out, trying to feel where the ‘wrongness’ of an interloper might be. Following the directions of the guard as to where the being out of place was last seen, he smiled, almost grimly, that he might actually get a test of his skills very soon.

As he left the more developed parts of the tunnels, the outskirts of the foliage of the tunnels beginning to grow, he slowed his pace. If there was a dangerous interloper out there the last thing he needed to do was give away his presence. He slowed even more, moving stealthily, making sure not even the leaves and vines of the tunnel were disturbed as he passed them.

Moving from tunnel to tunnel, he let his senses, both physical and in the Force, guide him. The latter aided him in moving silently, all but invisibly, through the jungle as the former helped guide him through the tunnels, the branches and forks of them, heading deeper into the wilds. And then a scent reached his senses, a wet iron scent, one that he knew well.

Slowing even more, remembering the note in the guards report that two hunting parties had gone missing, Zas’tel was sure that the scent would lead him to something that would solve at least a part of that mystery of the interloper. As the scent and the ache in the Force grew he slowed even more until he was sure he was almost right on top of what had to be the party. He backed into shadows of the tunnel, letting his extremely keen eyes and senses rove over the scene, not wanting to expose himself, in case the intruder was closeby and waiting for someone to find the hunting party.

Suddenly the tunnel opened up above him, a hole in the ceiling that hadn't been there before.

"Bang."

Obscured by shadow, there was a man, garish in his handsomeness, a slash of a smile.



"I would've had you then."

Zas’tel straightened, ”Sometimes,” he began with a chuckle, ”one must set the highest quality of bait to trap the predator.”

Padding out of his own shadow, a lupine grin crossed his face, ”Although,” his snout quivered, sniffing the air, ”perhaps I was mistaken. A true predator wouldn’t show his hand this easily.” he quipped.

His hands were moving, not in any particular direction, but were close to his equipment belt and his weapons. His legs quivered slightly, ready to pounce or bound out of the way of a shot from the weapons the man held, ”So then, not a predator, something else. You did all this for a reason…” his head tilted to the side, ”So why have you killed two of the city’s hunting parties just to gain my attention?”

A disturbance of the air and the man vanished.

"Maybe I'm here to kill you."

His voice echoed from multiple directions, as if thrown with the Force.

A clicking sound came from Zas’tel’s throat at the comment in command, a barking chuckle as the lights the his people used to let artificial lights keep the plants regulated shut off leaving the tunnel in seeming complete darkness.

As the light dimmed, he had already moved, regulating his body temperature and energy to match that of the surrounding jungle. Concentrating, he threw his voice ”You killed a few whelps of hunter…I am a completely different story.” he let out, the sound echoing around the corridor.

"As if," a chuckle.

"Surely your dream is to be hunted, and to hunt, and to win?"

A bolt came from one direction and burned towards his forehead -

Zas’tel’s hand came up, between his head and the bolt, the energy seeming to be absorbed into his hand. Shaking it as the heat wash singed his fur slightly as he used the Force to take in the energy, he moved. Closing his eyes again, he let his vision adjust from seeing mostly in the visible spectrum into seeing more into the ultraviolet. Trails of his foe’s passage filled the air but the man was good, he had to admit, as the trails crossed and crossed again in paths that filled the air with remnants of the man’s passage.

”You know…” he said, moving with each word he spoke, ”you don’t truly seem to know me.” with that, he stretched out his hand in the direction of the brightest thread of the man’s movements, releasing the energy he’d absorbed back along that track.

"I was you, my old friend," the voice was being thrown around again, and suddenly, yes, Arb was there, but then he literally vanished, reappearing elsewhere. He put his hands out, and little portals seemed to absorb his guns.

Those portals appeared above Zas'tel and Arb fired through them -

Defel were nothing if not maneuverable and flexible, even given their broad size for their height. Still, wisps of smoke and droplets of his blood came from his pelt as he dodged, unfortunately not enough to have the bolts miss. In the same moment, he reached out with his mind, attempting to wrest control of the guns from Arb, ”Were me? There is no one else like me so you must be confused.” he taunted back, one hand reaching to his belt, throwing daggers at the portals, trying to attack back through them even as his mind was fighting Arb’s.

The guns vanished, as if they were merely projections of Arb's will.

There was however a loud owwwww that showed the Defel a different direction to chase his foe -

Zas’tel let a wry smile cross his face at the cry. Closing his eyes for a moment, he visualized the tunnel system around himself. What he’d already seen of this foe misdirection was their modus operandi. So, he noted the direction of the cry, then set off through the shadows that now dominated the tunnels, heading in a cross direction to where the cry had come. He paralleled where he’d heard it come, moving silently, not disturbing the jungle foliage, until he was close to where he should be near where the cry had come.

Arb was there, holding his previously unmarred face. Smoke rose from the scar upon his visage, and his eye was missing; as it should be, in all his forms. His blasters were on the floor in-front of him, and he was leaning on them, looping an eye-patch around his face again.

"What do you know, you got me."

Zas’tel came to a halt as the man stood there. His eyes widened as a sense of shock crept over him. His mind was whirling but, even as it did, a growl came from his maw. ”I…know…you…Why do I know you, know of you?” His voice wasn’t calm but also held confusion and concern.

They were in a small courtyard of sorts; ancient, leading into a wider run-down complex.

"The names Arb," he said, droll. "I've never met you in my life, but apparently you like a good hunt, so here I am."

A smile, all smirk. "Don't you remember hiring me?"

Zas’tel shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He’d never felt this unfocused, this detached. Looking up at the one eyed man, ”Yes…no…maybe…” he muttered darkly. He shook his head again, his ears waving as he did.

”I don’t recall hiring you but I do but I also recall events that couldn’t have happened, many times our paths have crossed.” he muttered. ”The most irritating is the feeling you have…” his pelt rippled, ”...worn me like a second skin to do things in my name.”

"In your name?" Arb scoffed slightly.

"I merely gave you permission to be, my Defel friend. You have had many personalities since, and before. Two puppeteers, before you took on Zas'tel as your own, and made him yours... and theirs."

A vague gesture, and he winced as he tried to stand up, holding his wounded arm. "So saddening."

”If I knew which or how many of all these images are or were real then I would know what is right.” Zas’tel said. His ears almost flattened back against his skull as his head tilted to the side. ”Gave me permission?” escaped his lips in a low growl. ”A phrase like that sounds like you attempted to change my true life.” he went on, eyes narrowed now as he crouched slightly, suddenly sure he was facing a predator of immense power.

"Is this not what you wanted?" Arb gathered his feet beneath him, and leapt up, backwards, perched on the edge of the broken down building, high up. His hand was still holding his wound; he'd left his guns in the ground.

"It would have been so different, had I had a Forcesaber..." He sounded rueful. "You'd have had no chance."

Zas’tel noted how the man supposedly left himself disarmed. Which spoke even more to him how dangerous this man was. Only a fool or a predator sure that it could destroy him would leave themselves vulnerable to him. He looked up, a grin splitting his maw, only slightly, at the image.

”There is a very great divide between what I may want and what the Force and the universe demands of me, what it believes is my role in all. I know not to argue with that, it ends poorly for all who try.” he replied before bounding up chunks of ruins, to perch near the level of the man, on a different building.

”I suspect all things would be different if either of us held this Forcesaber.” he said, keeping his tone calm and even.

"So, you were once upon commanded by one @Galactic_Vagabond422, and one @Kev_Mas-Colcha. You don't feel disquiet, knowing you are the skin of a skin?" A gloating sound. "That I used you, too?"

”Your boasts mean nothing. I grew past what my life was intended, each time growing further.” Zas’tel responded, almost casually. His head shook and he looked confused, ”Frack, you and whatever you’re doing to my memories…”

His eyes narrowed, ”I can see this past, see the past that these memories say I had, including that I should have become one with the Force yet…” he almost growled, his weapon hand twitching, ”You and yours denied me that. And I was untethered, became something else, something more. Yet I am here now, ripped from that.”

"Yes," he said, simply. "But that's fine."

He backed to the ledge behind him, to the depths unseen.

"Because I'm paying for it now."

He tipped off the edge... and fell, out of sight.

Zas’tel had already crouched, preparing for whatever this Arb was doing so the moment he began to tip over the edge the Defel was moving, leaping to the building his target had perched upon. Less than a pair of seconds had passed before he reached the ledge.

Reaching to his belt he pulled free a useful tool for maneuvering over deep crevices that would work better now here. With a ‘chunk’ sound it fired, a thin ribbon of high strength metal wire trailing behind a hook, to wrap around Arb’s ankle. His free hand reached out, him concentrating, trying to use the Force to slow the man’s fall. ”No..you do not get off that easily…more to discuss, we have.”

"Damn," Arb said, grinning. "Here I was hoping to fall to my death."

A dry chuckle, and he shrugged. A moment later his blasters materialised in his hand, as if moved with an Aing-tii displacement.

"You can hold on to me or...?"

Lifting the cable for a moment, causing more tension in it, Zas’tel snorted. ”Really, want to die? Somehow I doubt that.” he muttered, releasing the reeling mechanism on the winch, letting the cable reel out rapidly.

At the same time, he leapt, bounding from one side of the chasm to the other, following the falling man, blades and strokes of lightning both coming from him, at the man, to distract, as the bottom of the deep abyss came closer. ”Still attacking a subterranean dweller in his own element, you are a special kind of stupid.”

Arb dropped, followed by Zas'tel, firing to shoot down the lightning bolts, to keep the blade from connecting -

The ground rushed up beneath -

Zas’tel wondered how much attention the man was paying to how close they were to the ground. With one last leap, he yanked on the winch, reeling in sharply, to halt the man’s fall. ”Did you know that this crevice reaches to the core?” he said, still flinging lightning to keep him off balance. ”And what was your point in this, save to taunt me?”

The ground rushing up was all illusion; there depths upon depths here.

"Your perfect world, Zas'tel, is the eternal hunt."

The fall went on and on.

"Not even a good death, or a good life, or a Nest, or a family."

A chuckle, as he shot the wire.

"So why not hunt?"

Zas’tel hooked the winch gun back to his belt, the now severed wire reeling back in. Squatting on a perch, claws digging into the rock, he watched the man continue to fall. ”This hunt or the real one?” raising his voice to ensure it still reached the man. ”Because,” his muscles bunched and he leapt, bounding upward as fast as the man below was falling, ”this hunt begins to bore and…those who live in the depths become…annoyed…when someone steals their food.” He yelled downward, in a humored tone.

Arb used the Force to invert him and perched on a lower part of the crevasse.

"Is that so."

He shrugged. "So, you don't wish to be trapped in the hunt forever more?"

Zas’tel paused in his movements, glancing down at the man. He sank his claws back into the rock, an amused expression on his face. ”Did I hit your ears or your eye?” his tone as amused as his expression.

His expression hardened, ”That was not what I said, ancient foe.” his tone was now hard, grim. ”I remember more and I see your game now, at least my part in it. And, do you know what Defel do even better, when hunting?” he asked before whistling sharply.

His head cocked to the side, as though listening for something. His lupine face split in a grin, ”They may not be the true pack my memories say you took from me but they are my pack in the moment.”

TAG: @Sinrebirth, two others tagged in the post

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IC: Tarkin, Marana, and Jori
Kuat and then Eriadu

Marana knew that the elderly statesman had been through some sort of ordeal, even if Tarkin was masking it. She was also sure that Jori was certain of it as well. But then…something else began to happen after Zel left. She could feel energy rising out of him, energy that wasn’t possible, that he had no affinity for.

Glancing at Jori, she was about to speak when…

Eriadu

Tarkin glanced at the chrono on his desk, with a smile. He’d been working most of the morning, being taken up with reports and requests from the various worlds that were part of the Hegemony that…he glanced, with a smile, at a holo…had been formed after he and his spouse had joined the powers of their world, encouraging other worlds to join them as well.

Thinking of her after the glance, his eyes flicked to the chrono once more, almost expecting her sweeping entrance to his office at any moment, telling him that while they both had many projects they both focused on he had promised the afternoon was to be spent with her and their granddaughter. And it probably wouldn’t be her alone. When the Suarbi system had joined, another person had joined their household, one who saw their entire family as their family. Of course, sometimes having a Force wielding female warrior as family came with its own complications but Marana was family.

Sighing, deciding to take matters into his own hands, Tarkin swept a hand across the terminal pickup in his desk, the holos that lit its surface and the air above it dissolved. Standing, only vaguely using his cane as an aid for walking, he maneuvered around the desk, passing the comfortable chairs in the nook nearer the door, then shut and locked the door behind him.

As he headed up the corridor to the lounge he could hear three female voices coming from the room. The corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile as he began to make out that the three of them were debating or perhaps wagering on which of them would be the one to go pry the ‘old man’ out of the office so that they could enjoy the afternoon they’d planned.

Walking as silently as the cane would allow, he approached the room, stopping as the women seemed to have almost reached a consensus before he poked his head around the corner of the door, his eyes bright. ”Can anyone get in on this wagering or is it all moot now that I’m here?”

"You should do it." said the older woman to her granddaughter. "You know he has a soft spot for you and he will listen." she gave her a sly smile "After all, how could he refuse his favorite?" she chuckled softly and touched her elbow.

"Why not Marana for once?" the young woman asked. "She has to get used to it as well. After all, she is part of this family." she gave a playful grin.

The older woman opened her mouth to say something further when came Tarkin's voice settling the debate. "Ah, darling, I was just making sure you get some rest, you know us politicians." she gave him a sly look "Always plotting and was about to use one of your weaknesses against you."

They were in a playful place, where their troubles seemed a distance away.

Interrupted, perhaps, but they would not quite recall what they had been doing beforehand, and definitely not the proposed assaults on Kuat and Anaxes. There was however, a light sing-song chime; someone was at the front door of the Estate.

A young man with white hair, with the slightest echo of the former crimson that it had been, standing in the rain.



Marana looked at the holo of the young man at the door. Her eyes narrowed at a sudden chill. But he seemed otherwise innocent and it was not their place to dissuade a guest who had gotten through the security cordon of the estate.

She stood, rolling her shoulders, ”I will greet the man at the door, old man, spend some time with your family while I find out who has darkened our door with their presence.”

Tarkin smiled softly, walking into the room to take a seat. He glanced at both his spouse and granddaughter. Addressing they younger Jori, ”Your grandmother knows better than to believe I was resting. As she said, politicians…” he murmured.

The words drifted into incoherence for Marana as she walked to the front door, making sure her body was ready in case this man was trouble and she needed to act. She cared for all three who were in the lounge, had stood as a protector of each at one point or another, and she would not let harm come to them.

Reaching the door, she opened it, her sharp eyes studying the young man in the rain. ”What brings you here on such a day?” she asked him, meeting his eyes.

His granddaughter gave a mischievous grin "I thought you did not like politicians?" she teased him and gave her grandfather a sly look. Then noticed her grandmother's gaze and quickly added "With the exception of one or two maybe?" she gave a cheeky grin and offered her cheek for a kiss.

The older Jori wondered who might it be at the door, thinking whether she should join Marana, but that might give the young woman the wrong impression. After all she did not want to be too overbearing...

The young man smiled, broadly, at Marana. "My name is Sheev."

He held out an invite; handwritten. "This is for the Tarkin family. A marriage of some political importance is due to occur on the Neti homeworld, and as the ruling Quintad, it was assumed you'd want to attend."

A lopsided grin. "I was also hoping to hitch a ride with you."

Leaning over his cane, Tarkin kisses his granddaughter’s cheek before walking around to join his wife. A wry smile was on his face. ”I married a politician, doesn’t mean I like the other ones, sometimes wish we could send them out like the old ways, with only the clothes on their backs and if they survive a week in our harshest terrain could they then serve the people.” His tone was half joking and half serious.

Marana arched an eyebrow, ”Sheev…Sheev, the name rings bells. Although, in this case ominous, dirge toned ones.” Shaking her head, ”I would imagine you are referring to that prankster and his mate, just as bad as he is with that.” she went on, with a grin.

Stepping slightly away from the doorframe, knowing the house’s security would scan and ensure that this young man was unarmed, she gestured, ”Come in out of the rain, I will bring you to the rest of the family, and see what is decided, as a family.”

Both Joris giggled in unison at Tarkin's comment. "I remember you liked me without clothes..." the older Jori teased her husband, to which the younger one blushed "Grandmother!" she exclaimed half-scandalized half-amused. "Too much information!" her cheeks were burning. She was not an innocent, but hearing such talk from her grandmother...

The elder Jori was still somewhat curious about who might have come in the rain and what was taking Marana so long.

Sheev smiled, softly. "Thank you, ma'am."

He stepped in. "I've just delivered the wedding invitation in person to the Sephi monarch, who is also going to attend."

Closing the umbrella, and shaking off the rain, he stepped into the lobby. "Ma'am, sir." He bowed to each in turn.

Marana ensured the door was shut behind him, surreptitiously checking the security monitor as he did. With a quirk to her lips she turned, ”Oh no, not the Neti. The young ones…” she shivered, ”Little arms and hands everywhere…” she muttered.

Tarkin had snorted, with a slight blush, to his wife’s comment, a blush which faded when the young man stepped into the room. He nodded to the man, ”Interesting way to introduce one’s self but infinitely more direct than some I or my wife have to deal with.” he said, in a wry tone. Taking the elder Jori’s hand he chuckled at Marana’s comment, ”There is time in the schedule…our Senate is finally in recess for this term. So, shall we visit the old Neti and his wife, be there for the wedding? If he managed to convince Maldeal I’m certain others of our other friends will also be present.”

Both Joris nodded to the newcomer and listened to what was being said. "Oh yes, all the friends that you looove seeing." the older one teased Tarkin "Especially the ones from the Senate." she smirked slightly. There was something to the young man that she could not place her finger on, but decided not to delve too much on that. The whole morning was rather odd, maybe it was affecting her perception?

TAGS: @Sinrebirth, @TheAdmiral

 

OOC: The following is an epic combo with Mitth, Lady B, and Sinre – thank you so much, guys! It's always a blast!!

IC: Dunkeel, Bellorum, Joren, Palpatine, Ike, The Master, and Aden
Rebirth

Arb's expression was taut and things did not seem to progress well as they talked. He seemed to rage.

To age.

His expression melted, became more reptilian. Dunkeel approved, the man looked much better. I mean if you can control such a thing, Reptilian really was the best path anyone could choose, only he wasn't getting the feeling that the First Darkness wanted to take him up on the option of a hug just yet.

His eye patch snapped from the back of his head and dropped to the floor.

Reality was thrown into sharp relief. As if the eyepatch and the desert together had fallen away to reveal a room of plasteel and metal construction.

A throne room. Which definitely tickled some borrowed memories.

He - Arb - spat. "Protectors." His hands lifted. "If you will not be turned..."

"You will be destroyed."

And Dunkeel finally placed that roguishly good-looking mug. Palpatine. Palms raised to collect the incoming lightning with Force Absorb. He leaned into it, snarling and grating as he felt his tongue press against Fang's Kyber inside his mouth. Focusing for all he could to buy his family time to respond even as his attempt to contain it still saw lightning arcing back out and away from his hands.

It was strange that Bell wasn’t weary from the seemingly unending trial they had been through. Now standing in the aged Emperor’s Throne Room, she stood straighter and felt stronger. Ready for a fight.

A bottle of wine, my husband, a spectacular fire in the fireplace, and piles of shimmersilk-covered pillows… that’s my perfect life, old man, she thought.

Honestly, she could be anywhere as long as Aryan Graul was with her.

Sadly, those pleasant thoughts would have to wait.

Dunkeel was spot on by taking their defense this round, and that gave Bell an opening. "I’m done with these crabby old men," she grumbled and placed her hand firmly on Dunkeel’s shoulder.

Bell took a deep breath and pulled the lightning into herself, she wove it into an even stronger weapon. The lightning was augmented by Fang’s kyber, and by Dunkeel’s ancient secrets. She took that into her own body to meld with parts of herself. There it took on her talent for tormenting her enemies, and her ability to survive.

Her hand lifted lazily and she directed their enhanced lightning at the Emperor.

"We can’t kill you, old man," she said through clenched teeth, "maybe we will just break your legs."

Joren wavered as Arb completed his physical transformation and revealed his true self as Palpatine; the Eternal Palpatine. It was as if the man’s very essence had sapped his stamina and rendered him inert. Even when Bell and Dunkeel acted on pure instinct to defend themselves against this existential threat, he merely stared, jaw clenched tightly, muscles bulging near his temples.

Lightning flashed violently in their wake, forcing him to raise his hands to protect his eyes from the brilliant display. It was raw, unmitigated power. The Force pulsed with their camaraderie and strength—

And yet, he could not bring himself to join the battle at their side. He was exhausted, jaded by the perpetual conflict. It was endless; one formidable foe replaced another in a relentless cycle with no hope of victory.

Why had they been chosen to endure such adversity?

And where had the Master gone when they needed his guidance the most?

They were alone, and he wasn't going to tolerate any more abuse. Perhaps cynical was a good way to describe his declining mood. It took all of his willpower not to throw his hands into the air and utter a string of expletives to satisfy his frustration.

Instead, Joren planted his feet and reluctantly unclipped the lightsaber hilt from his belt. With a weary sigh, he activated the azure blade—almost as an obligation—and simply waited.

Memories lapped at them.

They'd dovetailed with Palpatine over the years, over the decades, and lifetimes.

Dunkeel would remember his time at the school on Nouane with the teenager, even before he met Plagueis.

Was he really the original Zas'tel, the Arb? Had they all been eating out of the hand of a dejarik match between the Master of Masters and Darth Sidious?

No, they would be able to know the truth; the Master had spoke of a traitor, not Palpatine himself. Perhaps he had foreseen a danger, which is why his Forcesaber ended up in Palpatine's possession, with his eye.

The Emperor paused with his lightning barrage.

"Break my legs?" A dark chuckle, spittle on his lips.

"After knee-capping me?" A gesture and Aryan's knee exploded, filling him with pain, and then, just as quickly, it was resolved.

He eyed Dunkeel. "Your little Fang, and your little Heart, all for nothing." A snarl and the Kyber screamed in Dunkeel's mind, began to turn red with pain. "I once commanded the Hearts of Kyber. I was power, but my defeat had been ordained."

A glance and Bellorum would begin to choke. "I corrupted Braata, and the Master had another in reserve. A better, a purer one."

"He knew I would see that his Grand Design was going to be the perfect lever for my own rise... so he played a game within a game." A growl. "One to defeat the Darknesses, one to defeat me."

Dunkeel growled as he breathed heavily absorbing the last of the lightning barrage before a dark laugh into the void of the end of that diatribe gurgled up from his throat! Oh what a deliciously rotten irony it all was that he knew this man! "Good to see that since your school days didn't change you! Nouane was an odd class, and you brought me good meals." Dunkeel hissed at the end of it with a slight nod.

Oh! The glory of assurance! His Kyber felt pain and was red but he poured his love into it. Dunkeel was not done talking, no with the breaking and healing he remembered his own tastes with tactics over hundreds of years and did not wish his family to experience that again with him. He loved them too much for that in spite of it all. "Did you command the Heart of Kyber? Or did you merely quell it into a useful form? Pain warps, bends, but it does not teach and binds with rust instead of iron."

Bellorum watched the Emperor’s attack on Aryan, and her mouth opened to protest, but her words never crossed her lips.

He had turned to her, and it was too late to resist. He was tightly clenching her throat closed, which was something she’d done to others countless times. Bell tried to fight the urge to panic, instead, she relaxed and waited to see if he would stop, or not.

Do nothing, and she would need less oxygen. Her eyes stared at The Emperor until he released her, which happened just as darkness was narrowing her vision when she was seconds away from blacking out. Her lungs were burning when she finally took a breath.

Whatever was happening to Dunkeel was a mystery. There were so many voices in his head, Bell could only hope Dunkeel could hear his own voice over the hellish chatter.

"I’m done playing games," she said to Joren, her weariness reflected in her voice.

Joren crouched on the ground, his lightsaber deactivating of its own accord, as he nursed his ailing leg. Even though the pain had subsided, his knee was still tender to the touch after the Emperor’s unexpected attack had caused it to blossom in excruciating agony. While there was no physical damage, the pain had been so intense that it swept him from his feet. He had collapsed in a writhing, groaning mass upon the cold floor.

Fortunately, he had recovered enough to pull himself back into a sitting position.

As Bellorum approached his position, she expressed her misgivings about the current situation. Joren simply pursed his lips and angled his chin to meet her gaze. He wasn’t about to argue with her assessment; he was in total agreement. This prolonged fight had endured long enough, and it now raised his suspicions. It was almost too convenient how new opponents continued to materialize shortly after the defeat of their predecessors. It reminded him of a game where they were the unwitting pawns.

His expression turned grim as he shifted his gaze toward Dunkeel and Palpatine, noting that the Chistori held the Emperor's attention… for now. That would afford them some time to speak and possibly formulate a plan.

"I’m beginning to wonder if this is a diversion," Joren murmured quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "We’ve been ambushed over and over again… almost as if someone is trying to keep us busy. If we’re here fighting these eldritch threats, we’re out of the way." He frowned, his hand brushing across his chin in thought. "I also don’t like how the Master simply… vanished, it’s—I don’t know…"

Joren shook his head to push that notion from his mind. Instead, he rose to his feet and gestured lightly toward the perimeter of the room. "I think we need to find a way out of here."

Road to

The Emperor, Sidious, Palpatine, Arb, Sheev, Zas’tel, and dozen names between, recoiled as they fought back.

It was not their physical actions that carved at him so; he was Divine, they were mere irritants. Their wounds healed promptly, but the war continued. It would continue.

They were likely coming to understand that.

And there was a reason for that, too.

The Second Darkness hissed, as he drew back. Reality shifted behind them, and they now stood on Nouane, before their own clock tower. Matter, time, energy, they were irrelevant to his power - with no Gods, with no Darknesses, with no Lesser powers and Echoes and Coats and Epitaphs to oppose him.

But they remained.

He sensed that among them their resolve was slipping. They were tired. After a fashion, he and them and the Master of Masters had been caught in this game for thirty-five millennia, across more than one timeline - three, at least, four, five, inevitably. More, potentially.

Forever, maybe.

He also sensed they had confidence in their Truth.

That frustrated him to no end, the red-haired Traitor, foretold in the Holocron of Prophecy all along -

A fixed point -

A hand was raised by the Emperor, to the speaker, and the train of thought, that very narrative, was stopped. That hint, that fact.

The Emperor drew back and lifted a finger and thumb, met them.

For a moment they would not end, no, not at all. But they were given a choice. In all their multitudes of self.

The ultimate evil asked them to choose one of them.

Forever.

It was all he could do, and be, and give to them as a final blow.

His victory was at hand.

"Choose and act," Palpatine hissed.

"Who will you be… out of all the Aryan’s, Sybelle’s, Soliloquy’s, Praxons, Bellorums, Zeseem’s… all your various names, giving you the power to oppose me…"

He leered.

"I cannot kill you, but I can Change you."

A cackle.

"Choose which of your many selves you will be!"

Finger and thumb.

Snap.

The reality switch was unsettling, as always. It was purposely done to show off, but she wasn’t impressed.

Bell squinted and massaged her forehead, over the theatrics, it was all too much. She saw images of Braata, Tera, Sybelle, and others she didn’t have names for, they all passed before her eyes. They are inseparable!

"You demand too much," Bell spoke up, "I won’t be changed. You cannot snap your twisted fingers simply and remove those who are entwined through my DNA." He had gone too far now, and she couldn’t imagine Joren or Dunkeel would give in to this nonsense.

"My ancestors are me, and I am them, and it’s impossible to remove one from the other. The act of removing even one of those who are a part of us will destabilize the rest, and yet you want us to give up everyone?"

She looked at Joren and then Dunkeel, "I do not speak for them, but I cannot allow this." Bellorum crossed her arms and sat on a curb, "you cannot kill me, and I damned well won’t be changed."

Dunkeel tilted his head, tongue playing over Heart as he heard the words of the Second First Darkness. Choose? Choose a self? Dunkeel was Dunkeel. He is he, not she, not him, not they, not them, not any more not any less.

What others called selves Dunkeel saw more as soul-bonded allies, not versions of himself. Soliloquy was Soliloquy, was Soliloquy, was Soliloquy, was Soliloquy. Zeseem was Zeseem. Dunkle was Dunkle. Dunkel was Dunkel.

Perhaps he could see it as they all shared a spark, a connection, a source. A starting egg that birthed them all. They were hatchmates, closer than any clutchmates, but each was still a unique expression and representation of that spark in the shared egg, and no one would or should choose to die to make another have to with their problems.

Dunkeel was Dunkeel, no other truly. It was a question with only one possible answer. "Dunkeel is Dunkeel. You admit you cannot kill me, but I can eat you."

Joren inhaled deeply and took the Emperor’s proposal in stride. There was no preference; there was no choice. All of the variants and personalities scattered across the multiverse were one. Despite the Emperor’s persistence, there was no deviating from that truth. Any attempt to submit to his wishes would result in a paradox that could potentially tear a rift through all realities.

Would that result in the End of Time?

Perhaps that’s what Palpatine hoped to achieve through his coercion.

That thought strengthened Joren’s resolve as he buckled down on his merits and stood in solidarity with his companions. Bellorum and Dunkeel had already covered everything he had wanted to say, no doubt a result of the close bond they shared as Protectors. Their thoughts were his thoughts. Nevertheless, he felt compelled to add to their commentary, unifying them in both mind and spirit.

"Each identity is the same," Joren reiterated firmly, nodding to the others in agreement. "We are one soul; one mind. That is the very essence of who we are. You can’t separate one and expect us to carry on without consequences."

Stepping forward, he narrowed his eyes with conviction. "I am Joren, Aryan, Praxon, and the others." He placed a hand on his chest to emphasize his words. "And I’m perfect the way I am."

He stood there.

Infuriated.

Invincible…

Impotent.

He raged, burned away their existence.

They remained.

He exploded the system's star, reduced all to ash.

They remained.

The whole of reality bent away.

They remained.

He was Power.

But they, they were immune to it.

Beyond it.

"Why will you not die?"

Palpatine was on the floor, slamming his fists into it. Every smash of his hand unbent the ground, gave way to a new world.

One moment they were upon Naboo.

The next, Coruscant.

Csilla.

Klendathu.

Remus.

Kobol.

Trenzalore.

Quadratum.

Dune.

Selenia.

Another, Nouane.

One more, the rocky broken plains of Dwartii.

The Sages Graveyard.

"I thought I could divide and conquer you. Let your dreams ensnare and kill you. Manticore, I got him, which was deeply pleasing." A chuckle, as he drew himself up. "Bernael’s time will come."

"But you three?" He leered. "You are indivisible, and I cannot destroy what I cannot divide."

"Don’t you get it," came a singsong voice they’d recognise. Ike, sitting in a Black Coat, waiting for them to turn up, his hood down.

He gestured, drawing the lightsaber on Palpatine’s waist to his gloved hand. "It was already written that this would happen." He popped open the hilt, drawing out the red Kyber Crystal. "The moment you started wielding this beautiful, destined blade, it was fixed that these three would be here and now, and then, beyond." He looked through the crystal at Bellorum, grinning.

"I can kill them, make a Change of their very existence -"

"No, you can’t," came another voice, and Aden stepped up beside Dunkeel. He winked, very Insipid for that mere moment. "They’re Ones, and you never realised."

Palpatine looked at them with growing despair. Another fluidic voice. "They never realised.”

It was the Master. He placed a hand upon Aryan’s shoulder.

He swept this hand, being maddeningly nonspecific to the end. "A Dark, a Light, a Balance, a Chaos."

Palpatine spluttered.

"The roles don’t matter, it’s their truths, their names," the Master continued.

"I shall go back, kill them before they can -"

"The previous Ones will stop you," Ike reminded him. "You go back too far and they’re alive."

"Then after -"

"These Ones, they stop you," Aden said, firmly.

"I can Change anything -"

"You can’t," the Master affirmed. "The Episodes, they already happened - they always happen. The Menace, the Attack, the Revenge, the Hope, the Empire, the Return." He counted off six. "Every attempt to undo them will create a minor pocket, as easily ended as Twilight itself."

Palpatine was stepping back. "The Hearts, the Epitaphs…"

"Your Epitaph," the Master stated. "The Kyber Hearts were merely bait." His voice grew solemn. "When the Protectors become One…"

"Become Ones," realised Palpatine.

The Master looked to the three of them.

"They just need to decide which."

He spread his arms out. "Claim your birthright. Be Balance, Light, Dark, or Chaos. Embrace your Truth, once and for all, and you will know."

Aden nodded. "Name one of the four and become."

Ike did a thumbs up. "You got this."

"I will not let you!" Palpatine unleashed a storm of power, and Ike and Aden stepped in, raising their hands to hold him at bay.

"Choose and Act," the Master said.

His voice was solemn; grave, even.

"Once and for all."

Bell beamed at Ike, seeing him there was exactly what she needed. He was family to her and she needed him. She sighed and shifted slightly while listening to Palpatine and the Master speaking. The weariness she’d felt from their unending ordeal had been slowly lifting, it was probably this confirmed that they had made the right choices, and they were indeed indivisible.

Her gratitude gently brushed over both Ike and Insipid. He would always be her Master, and though she would never admit it, to her he was the closest thing to a father she had ever known.

"Once and for all."

There was no question what she was, or who she is. She took a step forward and spoke out, "I am humbled to accept my birthright, and I vow that, unlike others, I will never exploit the honor. We’ve witnessed those who would only wish to collect power, years, and wins, it’s a foolish notion that we will never suffer from. We do not need to be more than we are. We are always stronger together."

She smiled at Joren, "I am the Dark, and will always be the Dark. It is the blood that courses through my veins, and it’s imbued into the strands of my DNA." She looked over to Jordan and Dunkeel. "You’ve gathered everyone here who has shaped me, taught me, and loved me. They knew what I would say before I spoke the words. These men are part of me, they are my soulmates," she motioned over to include Insipid and Ike where they stood together, protecting them from Palpatine. "I am only one small piece of a large puzzle."

Dunkeel was interrupted from his musings of how easy it would be to attack the emperor with love as he devoured the flesh - although that might require heavy seasonings and marinate sauces. No, it wasn't the changing scenery or whatever the Emperor was impotently trying to accomplish, it was the coming of an old friend.

The Pervert had come, an odd relation to show up here, but through Bell, he knew him with a fondness he had never felt from any of his hatch mates. Then Aden came beside him refuting the Emperor's drivel, revealing in a wink a truth that made Dunkeel's maw gape in pleasure - now this one he had those sentiments of his own hatch mates to cause him to smile with parted maw. Then there was The Master, and Dunkeel swelled with joy to see him return. So this was where the original clutch guardian had skittered off to!

Hissing in pleasure at the man he knew if he had a shirt he would have torn it off in joy, holding back from the embrace he desired only due to the words being shared. Still, he stood more erect than Dunkeel had prior to this point, feeling pride and shame in equal measures distilled in his cup and poured on his head.

Bell was the first to react, to name, to claim. Dunkeel hissed in pride at that. Reaching up he wiggled and removed the Kyber crystal that had been embedded within his maw. A gurgling hiss that rattled the back of his maw issued forth, a soft refrain that bled through Force and heart and stone. With a slow blink, the red flared briefly before constricting like so many vessels throughout the Kyber before they swirled and wound. Turning ever in upon themselves as a clear was left before they flared like a jewel captured at the core before it fell and dripped away along with a drop of his blood, leaving a shard that as that drop fell away a new core blazed and surged forth all at once! The brilliant white that was there before when he had first attuned this Fang to him was there once more. "I am as I was as I always will be. Balance. I do not behoove greatness nor humility for I have been best and worst in equal measures. I have embraced the Darkness and swam in the depths, I have shone in the Light beside the brightest stars. I lose nothing, but give everything." With outstretched hand he made to reflect all the impotent rage and attack of the Emperor back upon himself or himselves, sharing in the link they shared how he looked forward to eating a stew made of the man's bones.

"Once and for all," Joren repeated, uttering the phrase under his breath to resonate with the others.

It was a defining moment for them all, the gravity of their decision weighing heavily on his mind… and yet, it wasn’t an overwhelming burden. The culmination of events also brought relief and joy. Even as the landscape shifted between a myriad of different locales and Palpatine exerted his power to obliterate them, there was no fear of danger; no fear of loss—not as long as they remained together. Their camaraderie made them a formidable force, especially now that they had discovered the Truth of their existence. Joren felt as if he had always known, and it brought him peace.

Those sentiments only grew stronger as, one by one, friends and mentors from the past—and future—materialized to offer their assistance. Ike; Aden Kya, more commonly known as Darth Insipid; and the Master.

Joren beamed at the latter, a sense of pride welling in his chest at seeing the venerable man alive and well. He had feared the worst when his cloak had dissolved to dust during their confrontation with The Maker, leaving behind no trace of his survival. But now, the Master placed a reassuring hand upon his shoulder to confirm that he had returned from the ether. The physical contact bolstered his resolve and reinforced his position. He knew exactly how he would answer the call; to choose and act.

With a sharp intake of breath, the former professor lifted his lightsaber hilt and ignited the azure blade. Slowly, he turned it about in his palms, staring with reverence at the brilliant glow it cast about his person. It was blue, the color of serenity, stability, inspiration, and wisdom. Upon reflection, it encompassed everything that Joren had endured over the years. He had faced trials and tribulations, had literally passed through hell and back, and had conquered the Darkness that had resided in his heart. Despite adversity, guilt, and pain, he transcended the horrors he had experienced, initiating a total rebirth.

"I have emerged triumphant from my suffering," Joren professed in a firm voice, articulating his thoughts aloud. "It was a difficult journey, but it reshaped my very essence, cleansing my mind and soul to become whole once more. It helped me to believe in myself and discover who I truly was; a soldier of the Light."

He inclined his chin toward the Master, confidence reflecting in his eyes. "I’ve stayed true to that path ever since the day you awakened my spirit on board the Eternal Flagship. It’s my calling, and I’ll never waver from that truth. I am the Light." A warm smile touched his lips. "Thank you for showing me the way."

A nod marked his sincerity.

Joren then turned to acknowledge Bellorum and Dunkeel, approving of their choices and embracing them through the Force.

That left Chaos.

Chaos was all that remained.

Untethered.

Unbound.

Unnamed.

The Master looked from Ike to Aden, who were being buoyed by the wave of power emanating from the Ones.

Darth Sidious stood, snarling, railing, his power unbridled and unfettered and unable to Change a thing.

He went through a variety of monstrous identities.

He was the shadow of Zas'tel, next the umbrella-toting Sheev, then the red-haired Bragi, the one and then two-eyed Arb, the Professor, sporting the face of a Chiss, then the teenage Palpatine, the wrinkled Emperor, the corpse-like White Eyes, the gnarled Snoke, even, for a moment, the armoured Darth Krayt.

He was many, and all, and none.

No matter who or what he was, he was irrelevant to the power of the Ones.

But not just the Ones.

He spoke to them, intoned, spread his hands.

"My treacherous apprentice," his voice raised, over the cacophony. "You failed to realise that when these three Changed the End of Time, they fixed everything that occurred to that point. The branching timelines became One, and though that One is not yet balanced, the End is."

He brandished a finger. "Your Epitaph has been written because the Well is nothing; is sealed; not even the Dark Avatar of Kylo Ren could open it alone; only a Dyadic power could, as was always foretold, and your vain Rule of Two, that you discarded as mere tradition, aspired to."

Insipid spoke up. "You created a Rule of One where you ruled as God, intent to be the only True Sith among an Order, and an Empire. The Sith were not tethered to a regime, or a place, or even a person." He nodded to Bellorum. "The Sith are timeless, and though Dark, they sought to Balance the Older of Darknesses." At that he regarded Dunkeel.

"Forgetting that you can't be a God if you don't have believers. You were cutting at your connection to reality even as you dove from one to the next, carving out your space between the death of the Father, Daughter, and Son and the now, branching again and again, and losing battles in all of them," Ike added, chuckling. He cast a glance at Bell. "Yes I can talk, it's all billable time, hun." A broad grin.

The Master clapped his hands. "It was family, and blood, and love, you silly old tyrant, things you discarded time and time again, while others, they suffered through the broken emotions of failed fathers, of lost children, of true pain, to be sharpened for the Light." He looked to Aryan, nodding briefly.

"But you are not defeated by the Ones," he shook his head.

"They lost their names time and time again not because they fractured along your mad paths to power," He gestured to them to hold hands. "They lost their names because they were above names."

"They have chosen their colours, their shades, their Truths, themselves, and they were right and correct."

Their combined presence held back the torrential storm of lightning, Palpatine pressing and pressing.

It freed up Ike and Aden.

Ike bowed over hand, exaggerated; Aden sketched a salute, wry, from the corner of a dyed-blue eyebrow; the Master dropped to one knee before them, head lowered.

"They are the Ones of Ones."

The Ones of the very Multi, Omni, and Universe.

She didn’t understand.

Looking at Ike, her lips moved but the question wasn’t immediately audible.

"Did you know this all along?" She asked but then turned to Insipid to ask the same question but more incredulously. "Did you know this all along?"

She held a hand up, "I think I need a moment to process this." It was clear she wasn’t angry, she was more than likely overwhelmed.

"We have been Protectors," she said, "which was a coincidence of birth, unless I’m mistaken? It wasn’t something we asked for, we could feel it was simply our circumstance. In fact, I went to bed beside my husband some time ago, or a night ago, and woke up at the edge of a river of lava, you see? That’s not normal."

She smiled at Dunkeel. "There is nothing normal about us, is there? We didn’t ask for any special power, and we are certainly not beings who would exploit that gift, but how does this change things?"

The Master wanted them to hold hands, it was natural because they were only whole together. Bell offered her hands to Aryan and Dunkeel since they were close to her, but she looked at Ike and felt a hot tear run down her face. "I will need you more than ever," she said to Ike hoarsely, "we need you." She glanced cautiously at Aryan, half expecting a scoff from him… Aryan!

Bell lunged at him and collapsed into his arms, and didn’t care if she was holding up the Master’s plans, she needed this moment.

When she had calmed down, Bell wiped her face on Aryan’s shirt and smiled.

"I’m ready to face anything as long as I’m with you guys," she said and looked to Dunkeel, Ike, Insipid, and finally the Master.

Dunkeel stood tall and silent. His hands were out for they were for lovers, to make a triad where a square should be. Not that that would be their final shape. No, his mind was turned at that.

He did not cease his actions, his defenses. Yet he remembered. The lovers. Whom Bell's other names were, was, and how the first in that line had not been a woman of high birth or high standing in any political, police, or warfield position. She had been a wife and a mother. He had known her as you know a foreign idea. Abstract and distant.

Though he had no shortage of warmth in his heart for her then, the wife of Joren. The first name of his often haughty self-involved friend and brother, she had always been so in his mind then. You never questioned a mated pair on how long they had been so, or how they were so. They were and so they would always be! That was how it should be, and that was how they had made it be.

In a clock tower whose ruins were not far from the ruins, as it was a part of them. There was a large clock that would never make a grating noise by being off true time again to annoy The Master. Below that, two or three levels down, two or three levels up as well, was where he had made it. A den. A love nest for the couple to be together so that they would not have to be apart and be able to raise their hatchlings. A tear spilled from either eye to roll down his snout as he looked at them now.

The Master was talking, Aden was talking, Ike was talking, and the Emperor was talking. Bell, she finally said her words. They did not need said, but they stirred his heart all the more to hear them. He knew they could hear his thoughts, know them if they wished. Let them.

"It changes things because we will change them. After we save everything, or maybe merely rest from this - I will not. I will rebuild the home for you that you never were brought to lady. I will build it better this time. . ." he sniffed, snout crinkling at the catching of his breath, "I understand humans a little better, and it's the least I can do - for family." For social outcast, runaway, perpetual solo-act, and loner, he was finally home. At the supposed end of all things that they would make merely the beginning of a glorious future, he was home, and he was surrounded not by colleagues, coworkers, fellow survivalists, nor enemies (of that there was only one), no, he was surrounded by family. And he would have wanted it no other way.

Breathe.

Just breathe.

Joren, eyes closed for the moment, continued to repeat the silent mantra to himself. It was meditative in nature, allowing him to relax and fully absorb the gravity of what had transpired. It was almost too much to simply focus on the Emperor, the Master, Ike, and Aden while they tried to explain what it meant to transcend through this life and become One with the Force and the Universe itself. It went beyond the level of basic human understanding—

But he could feel it in his mind, body, and spirit. It was a spark of divine energy, coursing through every facet of his being, renewing, refining… changing.

He could also see it through the ongoing confrontation with the Emperor. Even though they had stopped consciously engaging in combat, Palpatine continued to struggle against them. The mere power of their presence repelled him; he was unable to touch them or anyone around them.

That was enough for him to accept his destiny and fulfill his role, but the final piece still remained.

And that was his family.

A rush of air escaped his lips as Bell threw herself into his arms, pressing firmly against his chest so that he could feel the pounding of her heart. It was in synchronous rhythm with his own; two hearts beating as one. That thought reaffirmed his affection, prompting him to share that intimate secret through their bond. Joren then opened his eyes to admire her beauty, a contented sigh issuing from his nose as he instinctively leaned down to nuzzle against her cheek.

"Shh, I’m here," he whispered softly into her ear, his hands working in small circles to soothe the tension in her back. "I’ve always been here. Do you remember what you told me before we fell asleep that last night together? How we needed some privacy? Maybe even a long vacation?" He scoffed lightly. "I think this qualifies."

Hanging on that notion, Joren stepped back and lifted his chin to regard Dunkeel. As he listened to the Chistori’s passionate speech, he felt the outpouring of emotion from his old friend. Their link as Protectors encompassed them all, and it transported Joren back to that day in the Clock Tower when Dunkeel expected to welcome him and Tera to their new sanctuary. A pang of sorrow clung to his heart at the memory, but it quickly passed. After many centuries, there was no need to mourn for what they had lost. It was no longer relevant. This was a time of rebirth; a new beginning. It was a longing fulfilled.

With one arm still draped around Bell’s waist, Joren extended his free hand to Dunkeel. "I won’t forget this," he conveyed with genuine appreciation. "Thank you, my friend."

He pulled him close into their circle.

Together.

As One.

TAG: @Lady_Belligerent; @Mitth_Fisto; @Sinrebirth

 

MORTIS - before the death of the Ones

The sky rumbled with Change.

He looked up, peering into the Force, stroking his beard.



Through the Force.

Behind the Force.

Beyond the Force.

The Father pursed his lips.

This would not do.

"Supreme Maker, what becometh of you?"

"First Darkness, what befell you?"

"What will become of the greater Balance of Balance?"

The Father stood and made his way forward.

To war.

TAG: No One

TAG: @Lady_Belligerent, @Mitth_Fisto, @HanSolo29, @darthbernael, @Darth Cocytus

 

THE KEEP OF THE SON

It was a dark, dark tower.



Appearing above the Well of the Dark Side.

The Lord Cocytus would know that this was where the New Sith Order faced the Sith Pantheon, a cult committed to the release of the Old Ones, specifically the Left Handed Lord, Typhojem, the God of the Sith. Working with Abeloth and the turncoat Darth Haretisch, they had caused the End of Time, forcing the New Sith Order to flee into the past.

It had already happened.

It had, actually, already been undone.

Cocytus' memories of the event were being rewritten even as he recalled them.

Instead Haretisch had been undone by a coalition of Darth Bellorum, Soliloquy, and an empowered Aryan Graul, aided seemingly by Ike and Aden Kya, the precursor to the hated Darth Insipid.

What happened afterwards, well, that wasn't entirely clear now. If the Sith did not bury into the past, what of Cocytus and his time with them? Did he become Sith nonetheless, in a time of Two? The galaxy continued, did it, bereft Empress Fel IV but instead unified by her son, Fel V, who ruled with the blessing of a timid Senate, for a time?

Cocytus wouldn't know.

But what he would know is that the Force bid him to dive into the Well, to use his speeder to float down, and he would see the Son.



A hand outstretched.

Suddenly his lightsabers were in the Son's hands.



"I have done it. You will not stop me."

Behind him stood Dooku.

Forlorn.



"I have seen it, Sith. What tragedy I reap upon the galaxy. What my quest for order will eventually bring."

His voice lamented.

"I will enable the greatest evil this galaxy has ever seen. Not a Sith, no, just the depravity of a madman, leading the crippled Chosen One to massacre the Jedi and lead an Empire of anarchy, chaos without end and reprieve for centuries, the scourge of the Sith becoming innumerous in the hands of mutant clones, of monstrous Sith Dragons, of cyborg legions."

He ignited his lightsaber.

Red.

"I will become the Tyrant now, and force the Jedi to see what they will reap. I will no longer sit idly by."

He tilted his chin.

"And you will become my apprentice."

TAG: @Darth Cocytus (combo)

 

THE SECOND DARKNESS'S WONDERLAND

They were brought together for the wedding on Ryyk.

Renn and Helinith.

Their invites were accepted, inevitably, because the ties between them were more than brotherhood, but instead a oneness.

Not Oneness, before you ask.

a dry chuckle

But they were here.

Maldael, Tarkin, Atin-Kot, Xundel, Zas'tel.

They all had their reasons for coming.

Some came with spouses, with friends, with allies.

Two Jori's, for one. Sheev as well, his umbrella up.

It was after all raining, lightly, and the little meadow parted to reveal Bragi, his hood up, eyes golden in the penumbra.



"A pleasure to see you all, gathered here today for the nuptials."

TAG: @darthbernael, @TheAdmiral, @darthhelinith (combo)

 

THE NEO NEW END OF TIME

IC: The Master of Masters

He held out his hands to the sky, stepped forward, voice booming.

"My apprentices!"

He hugged their hug.

A hug of hugs.

"You did it, my friends!"

The Master was ecstatic.

"The Ones of Ones. Now you three can adjust the timelines, trim the unnecessary ones, end the chaos without end, nurture the demise of Gods that encourage endless conflict."

He embraced them.

"I am so proud of you, Sistros, Braata, Faya."

Palpatine was on the floor, hissing, fading.

Not quite melting, not quite living.

"Master?" Aden piped up, now holding the blade of Palpatine, that contained the Master's Eye.

"Are we done?"

"Of course not, my friend," Master pulled back, giving Soliloquy's shoulder a knowing squeeze. He held his finger up to the sky. "Chaos has yet to be named."

"Chaos?" Ike said, concerned.

"I had several apprentices, candidates for the Rule of Four, for the Sages of Dwartii. It wasn't until now their precise make-up could be defined."

"Yanjon," replied Aden.

"Vydra," commented Ike.

"Indeed, indeed," he circled his finger in the air, flexing it. "And myself as Dwartii, after all."

A smile leaned hard into the Force.

"Between Nouane and now, the names and faces behind the Truths changed, many times," he indicated Braata, once Vale, nearly Qi'ra, all but Syren, but in reality Bellorum all along. His hand shifted to point at Joren, who had once been Aryan, and almost Praxon. "But you continued to be honest to yourself, no matter the guise." At that he nodded to Dunkeel, who was always Soliloquy and many more other names.

"Once the Truths even themselves bifurcated, between two names."

Sistros Nevet, Braata Danlos, Faya Rodemos and Yanjon Zelmar.



They had all acquired surnames, and the legends even debated their genders, especially Sistros and Braata.

Indeed, there had almost been the creation of a mirror quad - of four statue tomes serving the Second Darkness.



They had not come to be.

They had stopped it.

"It was a trial, to get you all here and now, to sever you from your origins, to make it so you were just what you needed to be."

His voice became gentle.

"Ones who watch over the Ones."

He looked to them anew.

"Between you I need not worry about the enmity between Light and Dark, you are unified in love and friendship and comradeship. You can be trusted."

A pregnant pause.

His arm was still up. "But your foe is chaos after all. The force that edges between Light and Dark and seeks to divide you from Balance. To be unified against Chaos, rather than managing it, the dynamic between Light and Dark had to be repaired, to be restored."

He pointed.

"And here we are."

He pointed at Palpatine.

"He is your Chaos. My fifth apprentice, where four could only be. The original Traitor, for more reasons than one, as Zas'tel's shadow heart, as a tool for a time of the irritating Bernael, or whatever the quiet Balance calls himself nowadays." A scoff.

"He never had the power to destroy you three because he is your shadow; lapping at the edges of my Grand Design and seeking to usurp it. To usurp you."

"Accept Palpatine as your Chaos, and you, the Sages of Dwartii, you will end him."

TAG: @HanSolo29, @Lady_Belligerent, @Mitth_Fisto (combo)

 

JAKKU

It was a curious aside, here and there.

They had been following the link to the Quiet Balance, to the speaker that unified Bernael and Kigrael.

They had avoided notice by the First Order, by the Resistance, in it's various iterations.

Because they were not here for it.

No, they were here for something else.

They had been Anzat, and now, they were back within their ship; Kigrael too.

It was almost as if they were separated from it.

Purposely.

But by whom?

"So you came."

From the shadows of the wall of their ship, appeared a young man with crimson hair.

A slight shift, and the rest of his attire appeared.



"So this a trap, as you can tell. But it wasn't for you, it was for me. Sadly."

He turned to Kyp and Adalia.

"So how is your son?"

TAG: @darthbernael, @Adalia-Durron (combo)

 

OOC: Fun combo with Sinrebirth and...not the same Bernael as the tag above, this one has...migrated so to speak.

IC: Bernael and company
Nouane, The Clocktower

Dropping down from the rafters by the bell of the Clocktower, Bernael’s descent was uninterrupted by any other characters. With a barely perceptible sound he landed on the floor at the base of the tower. As he straightened, the sense of another that had remained in his senses, one that had been there to a degree before he confronted the Knights, had grown. Now it was fully manifested and was standing before him, in physical form, at least that was the sense of it that he had.

”I must be getting old, all these people paying more attention to me than they should.” he muttered with a sigh.

His still fully black eyes met those of the man leaning against the wall, ”So…” he almost drawled, ”do they…” he glanced upwards for a moment, ”even realize you used them as a distraction?” he asked, testing a theory that had sprung into his mind at seeing the man.

"Does anyone ever realise?" He gestured laconically to the upper bell tower. "I'd rather not draw them into the affairs of the Epitaph. Not every moment has to." A slight edge to the man's voice. "I assume you've identified me already?"

A slow, lazy smile crossed Bernael’s face, an affectation he’d picked up over the many long years. He leaned against the other side of the base of the tower, one shoulder shrugging. ”Hmmm, let's see, you mentioned the Epitaph, your voice is so familiar. The question really is are you currently calling yourself Arb or the First Darkness, the Only Darkness, or Palpatine, this time?” he asked, the response he’d received having told him he’d been correct in how the other was manipulating things. ”And does your former protege, twisted clone, realize you are in the heart of his machinations…No, strike that, of course he doesn’t, nor do the others here.”

A sniff. "Talk is cheap. Come, I need to show you." He pushed off the wall and unfolded his arms, a light breeze rustling the tufts of his hood.

"Unless you have a testing reason to stay, and something to protect I should use against you?"

A smile. "Or someone?"

Bernael had played this game long enough that he didn’t even hesitate, ”You know very well what falls under my definition of protection.” he said calmly, slight swirls of grey bleeding into the black of his eyes.

Nodding though, ”You would not have so openly showed yourself to me, though, unless you were either absolutely certain you had an endgame stratagem to neutralize me or wished to brag to me or felt that our interests aligned in something, we’ve been down each of those paths before. So,” he gestured, ”lead on.”

"I might be sure," he said, lightly. "But call me Bragi, for now, as that'll be simpler for now."

He led the man into the grounds, indicating the gate to the underground river. "Shall we?"

Beneath there was the underside of the mechanics of the clock, and the waterway that lead out to a familiar island.

”Nothing is ever simple with you, not even your names. Although the divine meaning behind the current one…that speaks volumes.” Bernael said as they walked his senses probing everywhere that he could, the voice in his mind growing louder with every step, not in concern but simply feeding him information now, not even attempting to hide what it new, save for some ancient knowledge. ”And both of us have been sure before of our way of finally ending our eons long war, one,” he chuckled, glancing upwards, ”those above have had no idea about, or if they had only the very fringes of it.”

There was nothing to sense, not per se.

Merely a solitary boat, carved of wood, with angled beginning and end. Bragi stepped nimbly in from the stone walkway. It was large enough for several sentients of similar size; six, perhaps. "Coming?"

He lazily indicated down the way. "You remember the island where the school was, no?"

Bernael had taken the first step towards the boat before he paused, turning to this Bragi, one eyebrow rising. The swirling patterns of his eyes began to swirl even more, ”As you contain multitudes, you know that of I, so which of I are you asking?” his voice deeper, with a touch of humor to it.

"Wilhuff's grandfather," he said, pleasantly. The ship began to move off, as if of its own volition.



A snort escaped from Bernael as the boat set out. ”That was…decades ago, when I was a younger man.” a dry yet commanding voice said. ”You are not so callow as to be guiding a tour of nostalgia.” it went on.

"Nostalgia has its benefits," Bragi said drily. "But let us be honest; our disquiet has little to do with what is happening here, no?"

"A summit, between War and Peace, when the future is fixed, not that you know much more beyond this point." Bragi fluttered his hand.

Shaking his head, Bernael looked ahead to where the boat was heading. ”Sometimes surprise is a useful tool. And I am not limited as the Jedi were when you muted their ability to see anything in Force.” he reminded his ancient foe.

Turning to glance back where they had come from, ”However…you are correct. Although,” the corner of his lips twitched in what could be a smile, ”someone, I am sure involved with the hosts, unknowingly caused me to be here so tell me, why else would I be here if it wasn’t the will of the…” that slight smile came again, ”...Force.”

"Not the Force," Bragi scoffed. "The Force has no will. Merely impotent Gods claiming omnipotence."

The boat began to drift. "So, do you like the design? I borrowed it from Daritha Charon."

That drew a snort from the ancient Anzati, ”So you are taking us, taking me, to the Nine Hells?” he quipped.

"I could be," Bragi said, lightly. "I'm definitely taking you away."

The waters turned red, the sky purple, and the distance revealed a distant broken Temple.



"We're already in Hell."

Bernael’s eyes had become almost completely filled with swirls of grey as an amused expression crossed his face. ”You should know, by now, that even Hell cannot keep me from what is needed, when it is needed. We’ve both been there before.” the calm, even voice was at slight odds with the amusement.

Bragi kept his hands in his pockets. "Which Hell, I wonder? Which of the Nine Circles?"

The ship drifted into the broken realm.

"You've faced all your sins, have you?"

Shaking his head, Bernael turned to face Bragi more directly. One arm rose, gesturing out at the universe, as it were. ”I live with my sins on a daily basis, unlike you. I have failed more times than succeeded.” There was an edge of sadness to the tone. ”Hell, or even the Nine Hells, is a regular day to me. You see every being as tools to be used up, to me, each is of greater value than you could ever be. Even if…I do count you among my own as well, darkness is as much of my makeup as light is.”

"I am Sin," Bragi chuckled. His attire was now different, his hood down.

They stood in a graveyard now.



"And you speak of Tools?"

He gestured to the tombstones.

"What are these, if not the Quiet Balance's Avatars, all used up and dead?"

Looking over the many carved names, Bernael shook his head again. He knew each and every one of them, had been them, had lived them, had been their entire lives as he had been this one.

Turning back to Bragi there was an upward twist to both corners of his lips. ”Each and every one of them knew that every day they lived was one more than they expected. And each knew that another would rise in their place when they fell.”

One taloned hand trailed over the tops of the headstones, as Bernael wandered through them. ”Although…you have missed a few. And,” he snorted, ”this graveyard is nothing compared to the one you have left in your wake.”

"So now we merely compete in terms of the numbers we have killed?"

A slight snort.

"Is that all that separates us? Not methods, but scale?"

A low, harsh chuckle came from Bernael’s lips. ”You bring me to hell, try to make me feel guilt that is not mine to carry, from my honored dead and that’s your question?”

Shaking his head he stopped by one headstone, feeling the irony of it as it held his own name. ”Manipulation, coercion, deceit, and pain, never were my methods, even when your methods sent so many to my embrace. I have my methods, which you know as well as I know yours. So,” he tapped the headstone, ”Besides bringing me to this Hell, what are you expecting from me?”

"I have trust issues," Bragi said, chuckling. "Are you surprised, knowing me?"

He swirled.

"Mainly, the Epitaph does not need to interfere with Kylo Ren. With Exegol. With the re-capture of the galaxy by the Sith."

He wagged a finger.

"You're here to smooth things over, but that is very rarely the case."

The talons of the hand on the tombstone slipped out, with a tiny squeal as they closed onto the stone of it. A rumbling chuckle came from deep in Bernael’s throat as his eyes darkened with the swirls of grey again. ”Seriously…oh this is too beautiful…”

The corner of the tombstone crumbled in the grasp of his hand, small chunks falling to the ground as his hand closed and then reopened. Lifting the hand and brushing the inner surface against his other hand, his lips curled in a fractional smile, ”Nothing in the universe, nothing in the Force, nothing in any aspect of anything can be smoothed over.” his tone carrying that edge of humor again.

”All that can be done is to create an opposing wave to the one that is rising higher, whether that opposing wave is dark, light, order, or chaos. Which then have to be opposed in turn, it is neverending.”

"Order?" A wry smirk. "Not Balance?"

Raising his hand to rub his face, Bernael sighed. ”How long have we done this dance?” he asked. ”And that’s what you got out of what I said?” He shook his head, ”You have loved the chaos of the dark, only the two major parts of our eternal war. I touch upon them all, have to find the path through them all. Even if you appear, now, to be ignorant of all the rest of the game.”

Bragi held up his gloved hands.

"I just wanted to make the point that Balance is the result, meanwhile Order is imposed."

A shrug.

"I'm not the Master, I'm merely... well, I'm the merely counter-force in his plans, which don't care for any of the game you want to play."

A smile.

"So why not help me, stop him."

An eyebrow arched, ”Work with the First Darkness to stop the Master, this time?” he asked, the humor even more present in his tone. ”Or are you trying to crack the board, destroy the entire thing?”

"I'm the First Darkness?" He looked amused, placed his hand on his chest. "Truly you honour me."

"I think the Master intends to break your board."

The eyebrow remained arched. ”Don’t be dense, it doesn’t become you. You are as much an Avatar as any that you erected headstones for here.” he replied.

”When has the Master not intended to break the board, his goal has been the End of Time and not allowing a resurrection of what exists since the End.”

"Of course, of course," Bragi smiled, slightly. "But I prefer to think of myself as the avatar of the Second Darkness myself."

Tilting his head to the side, Bernael considered Bragi for a moment. His mind was racing, working through the angles and the minimal evidence that was present. ”No…let me guess…that one eyed cretin…” he murmured. "And what does he have to do about Snoke's war, the one that I am sure is about to reignite?"

Bragi smiled. "Oh, so now you're curious."

"What's in it for me?"

His head returning to level, the corner of Bernael’s mouth twitched, ”Perhaps…not being beholden to any Darkness, any Light, or even me, is incentive enough for you?” he as much suggested as asked.

"Would that be incentive enough for you?" Bragi said evenly. "A neutrality pact; you won't interfere in my attempts to kill the Ones, the Master, and so on, and I won't interfere in your attempts to keep the war going without end?"

”The Master has done more harm to this timeline and others than good.” came the reply. His hands flexed, the talons slipping in and out. ”Such pacts, however, only last as long as either side respects them, usually done the moment the mutual foe is at their weakest, which simply results in that foe regaining their strength.”

"So... respect me? Or not?" Bragi chuckled. "I am inevitable, and perhaps I will be inevitably defeated, time and time again."

”Inevitable is not the same as eternal…” Bernael remarked, the corner of his lips twitching. ”But…I suppose you will not wish either of us to leave this little melodrama you’ve enacted until we reach an agreement. So…aside from your meddling to try to end everything…we do not interfere with each other, for now, is that your position?”

"I don't want to end everything, my friend, I merely want to rule everything."

Bragi smiled.

"Everywhen, everywhy, everywho and everyhow."

”And yet you wonder why I stand against you…” came the response, in a flat tone, arms spread to encompass all the headstones around them. Arms dropping, the one that had crumbled the top of the one before him clasping the undamaged side, ”We do seem to be at an impasse, old frenemy.”

"Stand against me just fine, but I won't be ending life. Why does it matter if my wars continue without end? Surely that serves your sentiments as to balance?" A sneer.

A snort came from Bernael’s lips, ”So many millennia and yet you still do not understand, war is not the only means of Balance.” Shaking his head, a fractional smile on his face, ”But I do also see the Darkness your rule would bring, the need to keep the spark of light alive. Although I do agree that the Master would rather it all end and that is a less appealing outcome.”

"I'm content to win," the man chuckled. "I never said anything about the end. I am content for the Light to exist in the shadows they exiled the Sith to; to self-loath, to be cowed and accept their defeat." Bragi smiled drily. "You saw when I ruled for a handful of decades. I had no issues with the Light being, merely that it should be in it's proper place."

"Beneath my boot."

The talons caused small squeals against the tombstone as Bernael peered at the figure before him. The razor sharp claws slowly retracted into their sheaths as a slow, almost lazy smile crossed his face. ”You do speak of you, old foe. But those that are now present and those that…” a slight pause came as his smile broadened incrementally, ”You said that our foresight is limited, not just mine is, you should know. We will have our battles and we shall see what is the outcome, whether your plans truly do reach fruition.”

They arrived.

"Let us step into the world we will reap."

Shaking his head, Bernael let his gaze travel around as they arrived. ”Trillions upon trillions already reaped…I can feel them now…” he stated, his outline shimmering for a moment as they entered the new world, new universe.

TAG: @Sinrebirth

 

OOC: Fun with Adalia and Sinrebirth

IC: Bernael, Adalia Durron, Kyp Durron, and Kigrael
JAKKU

The ship, it was not exactly as Bernael recalled it, something seemed off. So when the figure strode from within the wall he shook his head, even as Kigrael’s eyes blackened and a growl came from his son’s throat. ”Why am I not surprised it’s you? And, let me guess…” he spread his arms, gesturing at the ship as a whole, ”The Space Between?”

"What's he mean?" Adalia stood slightly behind her husband and at his shoulder so she could speak to him.

"Got me." Kyp muttered, "something feels....off though."

"That's just great." She whispered back.

The man rolled his eyes.

"Between, betwixt, does it matter?"

A shrug.

"We've things to do, and if I told you that a bunch of Force users have decided to take over the Force, how would you feel?"

Adalia screwed up her nose as she turned to Kyp, her expression revealing her thoughts to him, long before he felt it. "Tell us, because this is important, as the Force is an energy field that surrounds us, and binds us, and every living thing emits it.....how does one take that over?"

"What he said." Adalia snorted.

Shaking his head, ”Another failed attempt to control things through others, only to have them deciding to take action on their own?” he asked Bragi. Glancing over at Adalia and Kyp, something stirred in his mind, something touching spots that seemed…smooth…not as they should. ”My guess is that they were aided in moving outside such strictures and now are in a position to affect the Force for all, like the Ones once did.”

"Oh." It was the best Kyp could find to describe his reaction to this, his mind working through what had just been said.

"And I don't like what he said." Adalia said with raised eyebrows.

"What do you suggest we do?" Kyp asked carefully.

”Hear what this one has to say then figure out where the truth actually lays.” Bernael waved a hand at Bragi, ”He has a very familiar feel, one I don’t exactly trust.”

"It's not as if trusting strangers is a good thing."

He tilted his head.

"For example, would you trust Aden Kya if he was made a God of Chaos?"

Adalia nearly choked, her past experience and interactions told her this would be catastrophic. "Not in a million years!" She spat.

Placing his hand on her arm, Kyp was calm. He knew Aden, he'd heard enough to know. "That would not be wise.....and believe me when I say Aden is no stranger to us."

”So…Adan Kya…that’s about as unforthcoming about the threat as possible.” Bernael’s tone wry. ”He’d be the embodiment of Chaos if that were true, even more than he has been. Is that all you had to tell us or did you plan further, like explaining what the…three…of us could do?”

"Because if I'd turned up with Aden Kya is about to become the God of Chaos you might as well call me mad." A dry chuckle.

"Very shortly, he's going to create his own timeline... and you're going to have to stop him."

He looked back at the two Jedi. "Which is why I asked about your child, as you'll need more Force users."

A tilt of his head back to Bernael. "Your son, from the other time, he's already caught up in events, no?"

A snort, sounding very similar to Bernael's, came from just up the corridor. A young Anzati appeared, stepping closer and leaning against one bulkhead, ”Said son has a name and…alternate timeline…” he said, with an arched eyebrow, ”Interesting that, since I’m here. Which means,” his eyes narrowed, turning a flat black as he looked at Bragi, ”someone brought me, or us all here.”

"Let's not confuse the issue," he said, lightly. "I may have stopped you from being caught up in a pocket happy universe which is really a trap."

"Or I'm holding them hostage in-case Kyp here flies off the handle."

Adalia stood silent, her lips firmly in a hard line, her green eyes blazing.

"Our child....son...is only 12 years old........and un-trained. What could he possibly do to help?" Kyp's tone as cold as Adalia's eyes.

Adalia snorted, "more chance of me doing that right now."

He held up his hands. "Sorry, sorry, I just wanted to check. I lose track of timelines and all that."

"So, are you happy to be the perennial thorn in Aden Kya's side?"

”He is but one and you said a group of them. One new god can be dealt with. Time and effort is all that’s needed there. The rest?” Bernael asked.

Kigrael snorted, ”Sire…he’s not going to tell us, will drag it on and on, just to fulfill his agenda, almost like a politician would.”

"Happy? There's word I would never have used here." Adalia almost spat, "and you can leave Jesse out of this."

"Taking down Aden would be a coup, but she's right, you don't get our boy." Kyp back her up.

"I'm leaving Jesse out of it," he said, holding out his palms. "I just wanted to check-in, after all."

He eyed Kigrael. "Father and son, very nice."

He held up a finger. "Well, the powers that be picked Aden to be a God. They picked a couple others too, but I'll deal with them. We're about to have a lot of Changes... a war, one might say."

Bragi shrugged. "Are you going to be up for that?"

He indicated everything around them. "This is at risk. Win or lose, the rest will fall regardless."

"Wow.......choices...." Adalia muttered.

"You mean none." Kyp added, "what choice do we have? I don't like being cornered nor do I like being manipulated." His voice low and cold.

Adalia knew that tone and shook her head, "you lot seem to forget what he's capable of.....try and remember, for you own good.”

The two Anzati eyed Bragi, each having their own thoughts about what the being was and why he was here, as much taunting them as he was giving them a mission, not a choice.

’Neither of us doubt Kyp or his capabilities, Adalia.” Bernael replied, not turning his attention from Bragi. ”It is this one whose motivation is to be questioned, regardless of the beings he wishes to turn us loose against.”

"Aden's a threat to everyone, we all know that," he said drily. "Imagine him with Abeloth's power, and none of her insanity."

Kigrael snorted at that, ”Her power would drive anyone insane, and if you believe that wouldn’t also happen to this Aden then…” his eyes gleamed, ”you’re not what I suspect you are.”

Adalia snorted, "my experience with Aden tells me he's all about power, control and aggression. Giving it to him, is simply a death sentence for everyone.....and I mean everyone." Adalia ran her hand through her thick greying red hair.

Kyp said nothing, he knew Adalia's experience with the 'man' in question way outstripped his.

"Well," Bragi said with a shrug. "That's what has happened. So, you're in, right?"

He began to become translucent. "Ah," he said, grimacing. "Seems my time is nearly up."

"Can I rely upon you to save the galaxy from Aden Kya?"

In his hand was, suddenly, a small item.

It expanded to a white staff, with a hoop around the top.

A flash, a memory of who had once owned it.



"A Key," he explained. "You can travel with it."

Bernael snorted as the item came into view. ”Of course that would be the Key.” his tone wry.

Kigrael stepped forward with one hand reaching for the staff, ”Nothing we might do is for your sake but Chaos cannot be overlooked.”

At the appearance of the person holding the 'key', Kyp straightened a little, raising his eyebrow. "That's........you know what? I don't even know what to say about that."

Having no idea who she was looking at, Adalia turned to him, "you know her?"

"I know of her.....this could be very interesting."

TAGS: @Sinrebirth, @Adalia-Durron

 

OOC: The following is a combo with Mitth_Fisto, Lady_B, and Sinre – thank you so much!!

IC: Dunkeel, Bellorum, Joren Graal, Aden Kya, Ike, and The Master
The 'Neo' End of Time

At the words, Dunkeel stiffened. He looked at the melting form of the Emperor, the puddling that they were doing to exorcise his very soul across the timelines in a final death. From his own memories, he had nothing that would bring anything into question - except their first encounter with one called Chaos when he chose to speak the names and seal them all away in the statues. Although it didn't work for the others as it had for him, albeit even he had hatching siblings throughout the timelines.

From these, he knew the outcome of that first battle that had sundered them and their world so completely. Namely that it was merely one of many and one of the shortest escapes on record for the being known as Chaos that the Ones held contained in the Maw prison that their servant races had built in a grand restructuring of the galaxy solely for that purpose. Using the Force to isolate the Palpatine so that he would not hear what was happening he finally spoke up. "The Master I hope forgives me this, but. . .why? I cannot follow the logic, if the Ones never could destroy their Chaos why should we name him as such and not one that is more agreeable to us? Not to mention we were not named, we merely spoke our names. We were groomed, but as you speak not chosen - but were."

Dunkeel’s thoughts and concerns were the same as Bell’s, just as Joren’s were too. They were in agreement and they remained united, so why wasn’t Chaos part of the same equation? Shouldn’t they feel a kinship with him, if Chaos was a Ones, they wouldn’t be able to defeat him.

Bell met Ike’s eyes, she had so many questions but those would have to wait until they were alone. They would need a few bottles of wine to catch up if… no, not if they return home. When they return home Bell would make sure she had time to spend with Ike.

"What if he isn’t Chaos?" Bell asked the Master, pointing to the melting Palpatine. "Did he speak his name to you?"

Joren stood next to his companions, carefully pondering their words as they expressed their concerns about Palpatine and the nature of Chaos. It was a delicate subject, one that didn’t have an easy solution. As a theologist and philosopher, he certainly understood the Master’s logic in maintaining a healthy relationship with chaos to balance their lives. It was a necessary evil.

But as Joren narrowed his eyes and studied the Emperor’s dissolving form, Bell and Dunkeel’s conversation seemed to resonate with his soul, reinforcing his belief that something felt… off about Palpatine serving as an advocate for Chaos. While he outwardly fit the description, there was something beneath the surface that gave him pause.

"You said we will end him," Joren replied softly, referring to the Master’s previous statement. He then motioned toward Palpatine with a flick of his wrist. "We can do that right now; he’s defeated. Why would we willfully empower him and tempt him further? If he becomes One, we can never have peace because it will be impossible for us to trust him. He will attempt to subvert us and seize control at every opportunity, threatening to unravel the delicate tapestries that hold together each reality. That’s Chaos, yes… but not the kind we need to survive."

Lifting his gaze, he stepped forward with conviction reflecting in his eyes. "Chaos isn’t necessarily our enemy. It can serve as a restraint to curb our temptations; to preserve our sovereignty. It promotes harmony. Equilibrium." A hint of a smirk turned up one corner of his mouth. "It never hurts to have a little chaos in your life."

Joren shrugged. "Why can’t it be a friend?"

The Master looked from one to the other. "Hmmmmmm." His tone was neutral but almost pinched too.

Into the pregnant pause, he exploded a laugh. "Friends with Chaos. It's a novel idea."

He gestured to them to continue. "Well, who would the Ones of Ones choose to represent Chaos."

Palpatine was a smear of flesh upon the floor by this point.

Ike and Aden watched him.

Dunkeel sighed through his nostrils, feeling the warm caress his scales as his eyes closed and felt the balance within himself, felt the air he breathed, the life and death of his own private ecology. Slowly he opened his eyes and looked at The Master, "If I was to name one, and know they would be friend, I would name you. The Master."

Slowly Dunkeel shook his head, a hand raised in forbearance. "I doubt you would accept, perhaps even we are still a step aside from where and what you wish to become or be." Rubbing his tongue over his teeth and lips he nodded, "Then there are those you brought here. I believe the others already call them friend, and I could in time. As a pair or apart they seem a good embodiment?" He shrugged idly at the situation, looking with concern at the puddle. "Or were we supposed to name and destroy to overcome what the first could not? And have I questioned us into a folly?" He was truly concerned of the last but knew for some reason he could not now, at the end, afford not to at least question once.

"I happen to think that we would not destroy one of us," Bell spoke up, "if Chaos were truly one of us, that is, it would be like killing one's sibling."

Looking at Joren she said, "it doesn’t feel right." She shook her head. "We would feel it here," she laid her hand on her chest. "The bond we share, it’s not there with Palpatine, he cannot be one of us."

She didn’t want to dispute what the Master told them, but couldn’t he be wrong? Or was this a twisted challenge?

"If there is a fourth, I believe it is Aden." She glanced over at him. "We share that bond, you knew there was something all those years ago when you came looking for me. You and I have always been a great team," she said.

"Chaos is here, and he’s Aden."

Joren pursed his lips and glanced between Aden and the Black-Coat, contemplating the advantages of them both. He had to admit that it was an odd choice to consider the Master in such a role. While the man certainly encompassed Chaos, the former professor wasn’t sure whether becoming a One corresponded with his mission, especially when it still wasn’t clear what he was exactly. He had fulfilled so many roles over the centuries—teacher, companion, guide, guardian, and antagonist.

Where did he fit here?

In comparison, Aden’s path was more straightforward. Known to him primarily as Darth Insipid, Joren had a very complicated history with the man. They were both allies and enemies; friends and foes. Depending on the circumstances, each encounter varied widely. It was the epitome of Chaos. Additionally, Aden shared a special relationship with Bell, which was palpable in the Force. He couldn’t ignore that. It served as the determining factor in his decision.

“I support Aden,” Joren stated evenly, reaching down to take Bellorum’s hand.

"Dunkeel, you just strayed hard into epistemology there," the Master quipped.

Aden canted his head slightly. "I'll take it if you want me to."

Ike looked over, not quite peeved, but amused, too.

The Master paused for a long moment.

"Well, I can't disagree with that analysis."

A slight clap. "I did name Aden the fourth Sage as a backup after all."

Aden smiled. "I'm not being locked up in the Maw... and no tentacles, either." He stepped forward, holding out a hand to Bell and to Dunkeel, so they could complete a circle when Joren took Bell and Dunkeel's hands. "So, what happens next?"

The Master looked at them, bid them complete the formation.

"Next, we decide what to do with the Second Darkness."

His tone grew stern.

"Your decision will determine his fate."

The ichor that had been Palpatine still oozed, a stain upon the floor.

Dunkeel took the hand and nodded to the others as they formed a circle. One in three, four in one, two alone, and a puddle in judgment. Dunkeel took the quip as it was intended, a loving correction and so stood tall and proud and sure, as though nothing could ever assail them. He shared with the Light and the Dark his mind, and they, in turn, shared theirs. Perhaps in time, he open fully to Aden as well, but for now, he would let the man be eased into their depths.

From this sharing, this mingling of formless thought and intent he drew concentrenticities of power in their midst and drew stain from the floor, above, over, and into the floating core. He laid out the steps then silently in all their minds. Four Powers as One, the Ones of Ones would act as ONE. All essence, all spark, all code, and form of Palpatine would be locked in a crystal lattice work the size of a fist. Trapped and bound securely for the ages.

He knew who they trapped, it would not hold forever and containment was not the final goal.

Next, a sphere of ancient cygnets and marks was made in the old tongues. These were not un-breachable! Far from. But they were intricate and tedious to remove, they were designed to be broken, but it would cost the captured spirit. Working and chipping its way out would chip and damage the spirit as surely as time would in ever-increasing costs. For with the following layers upon layers, it became clear what they were making. Not just a prison, but an engine of light, dark, balance, and chaos. One that would slowly drain the contained creature, purifying its power into a neutral nothingness, wearing away at memory, diminishing the captive as life in the spirit realm did. A mini prison holding it in a place that did what it had avoided so long! The long slow erasure of all traces and a slow draw that would pull at these whisps and would act as a magnet to draw in all sources of it through a one-way passage into that crystal for their cleansing on death. A personal vortex of doom.

A layered power sphere with a sole darkness as its charge contained within myriad wards and glyphs of their powers so that the untainted power would be drawn out by whatever needed the force energy. Such as the Tho Yor engines. There were contingencies and plans just in case, if ever the spirit contained within even managed the halfway mark they would be summoned and simply would remake it again, and again until there was nothing left. Freedom would never be allowed, the pieces of this darkness would be fed through cleansing fires of chaos until there would be nothing left.

With a smile, Bell joined with the now three protectors turned One. She was in agreement that they must imprison Palpatine, killing him would be too easy, and he did not deserve the merciful gift of being released from this life. Instead, he would be in agony for a millennia. Dunkeel had masterfully designed the perfect home for what remained of the deteriorating Sith Lord.

Her gaze went to Ike, she desperately wanted him to be happy, maybe it was time that he and Aden resolved their issues and get back to loving each other. She didn’t know if that was possible, but a girl can always wish. Because all that was missing was for Ike to be as content as she was.

Through Joren’s hand, she felt his unwavering love, she lifted their gripped hands to her lips and gently kissed his. An acknowledgment of her affection, and a promise of the future they will share.

Bellorum’s touch poured strength and vitality through their bond, bolstering Joren’s confidence and reinforcing his position on the crucial decisions they had agreed on. The simple gesture brought a small smile to his lips as he leaned down to reciprocate her affections. At last, after so much adversity, they were finally together.

Forever.

It hadn’t been an easy journey to reach this point, but it certainly helped that he could depend on their solidarity. In this instance, he was able to perceive Dunkeel’s thoughts as he disclosed his plan for Palpatine. It was harsh, but justified, especially when he considered the many atrocities the man had brought upon the multiverse. That was their duty as Protectors; to ensure that the darkest evil could no longer harm the innocent.

While looking at each of his companions, Joren nodded to reaffirm those sentiments. "I think we’re ready."

A prison.

An eternal, infinite, prison.

Aden grinned.

"I approve."

He squeezed the hands of those touching his, thinking of everything the three of them had been through, across the many multiverses. It all came together, here and now, and crushed. The layered sphere became a diamond, a kind of pocket universe where the multiversal Darth Sidious would never escape.

The Master lightly clapped. "Well, that's that."

"He's not the Prime Sidious, by any stretch, but he's the one that becomes the Second Darkness. We can trim a few of the other rogues, and that'll be that. Happily ever after."

He placed a finger and thumb together, nodded as Ike stepped up to Aden, and placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling warmly at them all.

Together.

"Let's go gardening."

Dunkeel sighed, leaning heavily upon the arms he grasped, "It's finished," he stated with a dry smacking of his maw. The mental fatigue after that endeavor was weighing on him like so many wet towels piled upon his thoughts and his motions. Lips peeled back in a bloody gruesome pleasure. They had done it! They had run the race and they had made it.

Snorting slightly at the mention of gardening he wagged his head. Pointing his snout he looked to The Master, "Let us see to the House and the Beds first. Let us make sure the clocks are running smoothly and a nap to recover." At the word ‘nap’, he looked pointedly at the reunited mated couple. "We have earned that much, although I know a night will try to draw out to a week - the weeds can wait that long? Time is a malleable construct we now shall weave as Ones of Ones, isn't that right Master?" Eyes squinting, slightly before succumbing to being closed. Everything was catching up to him now, and he knew it. Felt it. The weeds could wait, would have to, really.

"You’re tired?" Bell asked incredulously. "We have so much to do, right? This is all new and exciting, it’s got me feeling refreshed."

She looked over to the Master and asked, "There is something we should be doing, right?" Bell looked thoughtful a moment before she spoke up again, "I’m not at all sure we should let the weeds grow and spread while some of us sleep."

Their elation rippled through the Force, bringing a smile to Joren’s lips. Dunkeel seemed content to bask in their camaraderie, opting to allow the 'weeds' to grow rather than cultivate their budding garden. It was an apt analogy to describe their evolving situation; it was wise to take it slow and enjoy the bonds they had formed through their trials. That notion made the most sense in Joren’s mind.

However, Bell’s exhilaration was infectious. She could hardly contain her excitement as she prattled on about the endless possibilities available to them. He found himself wanting to join her in exploring their new abilities, though he knew it wasn’t an appropriate time. They needed a moment to merely relish in each other’s presence.

"Shh, we have plenty of time," Joren soothed in a husky baritone, desire reflecting in his blue eyes as he stared into her gaze.

He then touched her forearm and silenced her with a passionate kiss.

TAG: @Lady_Belligerent; @Mitth_Fisto; @Sinrebirth

 

Outside Time

It had been some, well, time since they had been here.

https://boards.theforce.net/threads/outside-time-an-epitaph-short.50056790/

Indeed, not all of them even had.

Because of the multiversal nature of them, they would know of each others visits, and the visits of the kin and descendants.

They may have slept where they were, perhaps naked, perhaps in the embrace of another, perhaps merely curled up aboard their personal Tho Yor.

The Master lead them here.

Ike snorted. "Back to the old stomping ground, eh?"

Aden, the Father of Chaos, regarded the keep.



"What a pretty Citadel."

It was illuminated by the One Timeline.

The one which existed because they had prevented the End of Time, had worked to save the Timeline of Legend, to bring it into Canon.

One Canon.

Distant, very distant, there was a bubble; it contained the isolated and safely secured Twilight Timeline.

But.

As they watched, it was sprouting limbs.



The Master of Masters watched.

They would know, and understand.

The Dark Twilight Timeline; one where Darth Caedus had enacted a Change.

https://boards.theforce.net/threads...wilight-of-the-dark-force-maelstrom.50057926/​

Where an Aryan, a Sybelle, a Qel-Droma struggled through the permutations of what had happened.

That branch was thriving.

There was a dead timeline too; one where Darth Manticore had faced the Ronin and Shogun and fell.

That branch was dying.

Another branch, where a Bernael, a Jori Atreus, and a Helinith were all caught up in a trap laid by Bragi, a past face of Arb.

That branch was not neither here nor there.

The Balance Branch, in essence.

Another branch, one where Praxon had lived happily, where Soliloquy had brought an end to intergalactic strife, where Bellorum had turned away from the Chiss.

That branch held still; waiting for them. The Light Branch.

A new branch was forming, pressing at rapid speed.

They would know that Darth Cocytus was there; it would hit the critical mass of a Change any moment.

The Final Branch.

Another branch, one formed because Adalia and Kyp knew that Aden was Chaos, and vowed to stop him.

A smaller, growing Change, not yet a real one, but a potent one, where Madelyn Linnett fell to the dark side and became a Sith, when she should never have done so.

Darth Clíodhna had been born.

https://boards.theforce.net/threads/resurrection.50051513/page-16​

A final branch, starting millennia in the past, as the events surrounding Tulak Hord were distorted by a Tapani Emperor named Sheev.

It was entwined with Tor Valum, somehow.

https://boards.theforce.net/threads/star-wars-ronin-the-curse-of-qalydon.50056732/​

In every branch, the Ones died.

The Father, the Daughter, the Son.

In every branch, the Old Ones were defeated, eventually. First they lost their forms, and then their Darknesses.

In every branch, the First Darkness was cut from Snoke, and the Maker was destroyed.

They died once, they died everywhere.

The Ones of Ones remained.

The Master of Masters folded his arms.

He first looked to the branch created by Darth Caedus.

"We should be able to close that, if we so wish. But Abeloth still exists. It cannot be so simply closed or ended. We would have to intervene directly and prevent her escaping; end her."

That would be down to them.

He pointed at the branch being forged by Darth Cocytus.

"The Father is resisting us, in the past. I never expected the Father to create a Change himself... he's made it so we cannot intervene from the inside. But... Aryan, Sybelle, you at very least live in the same time period as the Clone Wars. We will have to trust that your good selves intervene in the Separatist Senate..." He regarded them. "If you think you are up to it?"

A new reality, in essence.

OOC: This will shortly generate the Twilight of the Final Force game. It cannot be stopped by divine fiat.​

He turned to look at the limbs that existed.

The happy lives of Soliloquy the Hive Mind Croke, Praxon the Actor, Sybelle the Sky-Walker.

"Do we let this continue? A happier ending? It is within your power to End it... or to allow it to become a fully formed reality."

OOC: This will shortly (or can) generate the Twilight of the Light Force game. It can be brought to an abrupt end by your consensus, of course.​

A gesture to the timeline of many Bernael's, in all their forms.

OOC: This is presently only contained in this game, and is unlikely to last much longer. It can be brought to an abrupt end by your consensus, of course.​

A hand took in the timeline of Adalia and Kyp, scheming to take down Aden.

Aden spoke up. "I don't want us to intervene here. I just want to talk to them."

He didn't ask for permission, he just left.

OOC: This timeline continues inside this game, for now. It can be brought to an abrupt end by your consensus, of course.​

That left the final branch, the one where the Emperor Sheev was planning his own Change. It was being resisted; fought against tooth and nail by Jedi and Sith alike. It might resolve itself and return to the main One Canon soon enough. Indeed, it was already curling back.

The Master opined. "We should leave that one be for the moment. We have bigger fish to fry."

They were not, after all tyrants.

Or where they?

OOC: This timeline is heading towards its finale on its own.​

He even regarded the Twilight Timeline, heading off on its own; completely severed from the One Timeline and no threat.

They could even erase that, in theory.

OOC: This is the TotF games' timeline.​

At present they were not omnipresent, nor omnipotent. Merely extremely powerful.

Gods, in essence.

Ike pursed his lips.

Was this right?

TAG: @Mitth_Fisto, @HanSolo29, @Lady_Belligerent (combo with GM)

Choices are, in summary.

1. To Destroy Your Happy Ending Timeline or not. If not, I shall open the game.

2. To Intervene In The Dark Twilight Timeline or not. If so, I shall craft a TAG for you there.

3. To Destroy the Balance Timeline or not. There is an on-going combo at present.

4. To Destroy the Twilight Timeline or not. This is a closed and finished game, of course.

5. Whether to intervene to stop the Clíodhna Timeline. This is present in the Resurrection game.
​

Mentions for @darthbernael, @greyjedi125, @Adalia-Durron, @TheAdmiral, @TheSilentInfluence, @darthhelinith but nothing to do

 

IC: Aden of Chaos

They were one moment above Jakku, another, they were aboard a space station.

It had, once upon a time, served their squadrons.

The Wild Knights, the Shadow Sabers, the Wraiths, and so on.

It had been abandoned since, in the chaos of the war.



He looked almost harmless.

Of course he did.

"So you know I'm the God of Chaos now."

TAG: @Adalia-Durron, @darthbernael (combo)

 

IC: Darth Alecto

It took time.

But they joined the galaxy.

Ascending the ranks of Kamino.

Bringing it into the Galactic Republic.

Obtaining a Senate seat.

Palpatine had died as a mere teenager, a speeder accident that claimed two lives.

On his part, Dooku left the order and began the work of weaving a Separatist Crisis.

Hego Damask had vanished from the galaxy at large.

But eventually they found him.

They found his secret moon, his experiments, his relics, his collection.

Whatever they brought otherwise, the Sun Guard were sent away, and Darth Plagueis stood on the landing bay in the placid world.



It was pretty, surreal, even, for a Sith stronghold.

He looked up for his prey.

Darth Cocytus.

TAG: @Darth Cocytus (combo)

 

Darth Cocytus, with the blessing of the Father of Balance, and a declaration of war upon the Sages of Dwartii…

Changed things.

https://boards.theforce.net/threads/twilight-of-the-final-force.50059444/

@Darth Cocytus, @HanSolo29, @Lady_Belligerent, @darthbernael, @Mitth_Fisto, @Adalia-Durron, @darthhelinith, @TheAdmiral

 

The defeat of the Second Darkness birthed one final reality.

A happier one.

https://boards.theforce.net/threads/twilight-of-the-light-force.50059445/

@Darth Cocytus, @HanSolo29, @Lady_Belligerent, @darthbernael, @Mitth_Fisto, @Adalia-Durron, @darthhelinith, @TheAdmiral

 

@Sinrebirth thank you for the honor of being part of this emotional journey! The following combo features my partners in the start of an amazing story: Sinrebirth, HanSolo29, and Mitth_Fisto. You guys are simply the best to work with.


IC: Dunkeel, Bellorum, Joren Graal, Aden Kya, Ike, and The Master
The Time After Time

The citadel stood tall about them, grand majestic, and apparently theirs now. Talk about inheriting your fixer-upper. Security was terrible from what he could remember from his clutch mates' memories and they had the real concern for other unrelated universes popping in for a visit or death whenever they wanted. Not to mention the stairs definitely would be in need of some repair if it hadn't happened yet.

He also wanted to install large clocks on the citadel. Make it more like home. The love birds were nesting somewhere impromptu, and he was want to take an inventory of what they were working with. Ultimately he took the time to eat and breathe before they reconvened. When they did, they were presented with their new roles as supervisors of the timelines, those that keep reality in check. Talking began again as he tasted what was available for flesh from lauder, hissing softly as he ripped part of a leg to slowly swallow it as he mused on the proceedings.

Choices are, in summary.

1. To Destroy Your Happy Ending Timeline or not. If not, I shall open the game.

2. To Intervene In The Dark Twilight Timeline or not. If so, I shall craft a TAG for you there.

3. To Destroy the Balance Timeline or not. There is an on-going combo at present.

4. To Destroy the Twilight Timeline or not. This is a closed and finished game, of course.

5. Whether to intervene to stop the Clíodhna Timeline. This is present in the Resurrection game.

So, choices. Using fingers to indicate he went down the row of his thoughts. "Leave it be, a useful clutch mate spawned from there, I am unsure if ending it would limit its use without its home universe so soon after being born. 2. I am open to doing so. 3. Leave it, later or always I see no need. 4. Let it have its fate, I am curious of the memories it might share in time. Perhaps a vacation zone? 5. Pain, but we should see to it. One way or another."

Outside Time.

This is where Joren had spent centuries in purgatory after the End of Time; he recognized the desolate landscape instantly. He had memorized the patterns in the sky and the natural topography like the back of his hand, even the Citadel that loomed above them on a rocky ridge held some semblance of sentimental value. It was bittersweet for Dr. Graal to finally return here at this moment. Not only had it served as a source of tribulation, but it was where he had become whole. This is where he and Aryan Graul had united as one; where his journey had truly begun. It was only fitting that they return here now, as Protectors, overseers—as gods—of the various realities that comprised this expansive universe. In a sense, it was the fulfillment of a dream.

Joren stood quietly to ponder that notion for a long moment, his eyes closed and his chin elevated toward the tumultuous sky in contemplation. Despite the honor bestowed upon them by the Force, it would not be an easy existence. The task that lay ahead was arduous and quite daunting. The burden was unlike anything he had experienced before.

How were they to impartially decide the fate of so many diverse timelines?

And yet, here they were.

With a squeeze of Bell’s hand, Joren silently heeded Dunkeel’s words as the Chistori presented his initial thoughts on the matter. He compiled a comprehensive list with relevant points and explanations, which helped with the deliberations. His friend’s organizational skills proved invaluable when Joren finally parted his lips to speak.

"First, let me emphasize that I don’t take this task lightly," he said firmly, his gravelly voice carrying on the whistling wind to his companions. "Whatever we decide, it’s for the best of those who call this universe home. There is no malicious intent; no scores to settle; no delusions of grandeur, fueled by power and authority. This is all based on objective analysis."

He pursed his lips at that last part, undoubtedly recalling how he had spiraled in the Twilight Timeline when handed the power of the Eternal. He would not allow that to happen again; this was an opportunity for him to absolve himself of those heinous crimes. He would do the right thing.

"I see no need to immediately intervene in the 'Perfect' timeline, especially when nothing has occurred to hinder the other realities. I’m content to allow that one to continue—if only to watch how the iterations of ourselves who exist there evolve. They may prove beneficial to us at some point. Similarly, I don’t feel as if we need to interfere with Clíodhna at this time. It’s best to keep watch on them both for now.

"Dark Twilight is another matter entirely. From your report," he extended a hand to indicate the Master, "it sounds as if Darth Cocytus, using the influence of the Father, forged his own reality to cause havoc. We can’t allow that to fully propagate. It’ll cause chaos across other realities. I’m willing to step in there and mediate what we can.

"I also agree with your assessment about the Twilight Timeline," he nodded to Dunkeel to convey his appreciation. "So much has happened there that I can’t intentionally disrupt the peace those people have worked so hard to achieve. They’ve earned this. It’s also the least I can do after I contributed to their suffering. Perhaps I will visit one day to atone for what I did to Nubia and so many others... help them rebuild.

"However, I disagree with you about the Balance. An assembly of overly powerful beings congregating in one place could potentially tip the scales and disrupt the fabric of each reality. It’ll destabilize everything. It’s actually ironic that such a realm is called 'Balance'. Perhaps the Force has a sense of humor. In any case, I’m afraid I can’t allow that timeline to endure under those conditions. It’s the only one I would vote to purge."

The thoughts of her companions were somewhat difficult to hear.

Some she agreed with, some not so much… but most of all Bell was unhappy that Aden had left them.

It bothered her that he had left so quickly when there were decisions to be made, she also worried about how Adalia and Kyp would know that Aden was Chaos. There had to be a traitor? How else would they know?

Bell involuntarily shivered and glanced over at Ike. Part of her wanted to go after Aden, the other part wanted to put her head against Ike’s shoulder and cry.

"I’m really divided on everything, so please be patient with me while I work through this," she swallowed hard and knew she couldn’t hide her uncertainties from Ike, Joren, or Dunkeel.

"First, I want to know how two Jedi knew that Aden was Chaos? That should be addressed as a priority, do we have a traitor leaking information?" She scowled at the notion, and really suspected it was someone planted by the Jedi, wasn’t that always the case?

"I’m not entirely comfortable that our first major decisions be made without Aden, he belongs with us for this." Her hand returned Joren’s squeeze and then let go, she began to pace while she spoke.

"I was here once," Bell said while studying the horizon, "it feels like a lifetime ago, but maybe it was only days. I had gone to sleep in my husband’s arms and woke up alone here. I overheard an absurd argument going on a floor below. It was a scene of male ego posturing that would’ve made all of you want to kill the lot of them."

She glanced back to Ike, "I was met by Ike there, but he wasn’t you… this Ike wore a black coat, and he rushed me to a door. I had so many questions but he wanted me out before the group debating discovered me there." Bell waved her hand, realizing that she was wasting their time reminiscing.

"Forgive me, I’ll get to the point," Bell nodded to emphasize she was moving on. "The first timeline, with its laughable name… well, it’s laughable for me. It was not a happy ending for me, the entire experience was miserable. I won’t detail you to death on it, but I will defer to you both since you were so happy there," her expression was pained, but Bell firmly believed in picking her battles.

"Dark Twilight is one where we must intervene. Cocytus needs to be smacked around until he’s learned a lesson and behaves."

Bell gave a small shrug, maybe this wouldn’t be so difficult, still, it would be better if they were all together.

The next timeline made her laugh, "that brings me to the balance one," her eyes met Joren’s. He knew her feelings on this matter, she’d ranted to Aryan countless times over the absurdity of the notion of "balance to the force".

"I vote it is destroyed. There is no balance of the Force, balance is for gymnasts and tightrope walkers period! I’m passionate about this and you’re all forced to listen to my complaints.

Saying that there must be balance in the Force is light wanted to douse the dark, plain and simple. Anyone buying into it being anything else is foolish because this has been proven many times over. Balance is when we control the darkness and light prevails," Bell sighed. "That’s NOT balance!" She had not meant to shout, but this subject really tried her patience. "I don’t understand why anyone would buy into that rubbish. Douse it and let’s see if that gives us balance."

She paused her pacing a moment asking, "Where was I? Oh, yes… Twilight. That’s one where I will look to you guys because I have no memories from then. Maybe they were taken from me? It’s all a blank." Bell looked sadly at Ike, she remembered him saying his memories had been wiped at times…

"Last one, the Clíodhna timeline. I’m watching and waiting with that one, it’s too soon to know if changes should be made."

Bell held her hands up and said, "I guess that was easy enough, thank you for being so patient."

Dunkeel reached out to Bel, their Dark One with a clawed hand squeezing her shoulder in quiet solidarity. "I can recover memories for you. But fear not- Happy Timeline is a cracked egg. What Vitiate dreamed I worked to return to you." He hiss softly as he let his hand drop.

"I… uh, thank you?" Bell said quietly, wondering if Dunkeel had just suggested she burn down her happiness timeline. The Chistori was more than a bit eccentric and inscrutable, it was part of why she loved him so much.

She glanced at Joren and said, "I would love to hear all about your perfect timeline, but later. That’s not a big priority when we need to figure out what Aden is doing."

There had to be some way to find out why he left so abruptly. "Is there anything we can do from here?" She asked everyone present. "We must find out how someone was able to pass on details within moments of our decision."

Surely Bell wasn’t the only one who was alarmed by this detail.

"He’s the very definition of Chaos," Joren replied without hesitation, his brow furrowing slightly with concern. "I wouldn’t expect him to always cooperate with us, especially with his history. He’ll comply as long as it benefits him, but the rest of the time?" He issued a soft scoff and shrugged. "He’ll do as he pleases. It’s in his nature, no matter what form he takes. Aden Kya, Darth Insipid, or the God of Chaos."

A scowl crossed his features, no doubt recalling his complicated history with Insipid. While it was true the man had helped elevate him to a position of power within the Galactic Alliance, he had betrayed him almost as easily on several occasions. A friendship with Aden Kya was high maintenance; a constant struggle. No wonder Joren had initially overlooked his swift departure. In the back of his mind, he didn't care if he disappeared for days without resurfacing.

However, Bell was right; the more concerning issue was the fact that someone had seemingly eavesdropped on their conversation and reported it to the Jedi. For the moment, that took precedence—even though Bell’s comment about their perfect realities troubled him. It was a subject he intended to discuss once they were alone.

"I don’t think Aden is the one we should be worrying about right now," Joren continued firmly, voicing his thoughts aloud. "Someone relayed our plans to those Jedi—someone who wanted to stir trouble." He angled his chin and glanced around at the landscape, his eyes narrowing. "Are we sure we defeated every iteration of the Final Darkness that existed here? I can’t help but wonder if one escaped…"

The Master shrugged. "Palpatine exists inside the main timeline. His alter-ego, his alter-Echo, one should say, it created itself, and went across all temporality. So do I reckon he's done; no, not entirely. But what you've done to him will catch up with his various forms. There are a few ways to make oneself immune to Changes in time, but Palpatine wouldn't know them."

Time rings, fixed points, those kinds of issues.

"So potentially Palpatine told the Jedi himself, under one of his many faces." He fluttered a hand. "We'll likely have a relatively short period of confusion across the timelines until we get it settled."

"So, who wants to head to the Caedus Timeline, and who wants to head to the Cocytus Timeline?"

He chuckled drily. "We'll need character sheets."

Suddenly, he canted his head. "Though you three are already in the Caedus line, as Aryan, Sybelle, and Qel-Droma. So, that's fine."

"The timeline where Madelyn falls, that has an Aryan, and a Bellorum, and a Sybelle, and a Soliloquy, just indisposed, or not quite there. We'd have to appear as ourselves. One of us would be sufficient... who wants to visit?"

"But if you want to delete Balance Timeline, I've no objections. You don't need Aden to have a quorum but if he was here he might disagree." He placed a hand on his chest. "Do I get a vote, Ones of Ones?"

Ike snorted. "Better you than me."

The jab from Ike made Bellorum cringe.

She didn’t ask for this, and she certainly wouldn’t exploit it.

Her decision was likely to be frowned on, but she had to be honest and go with what was in her heart.

"I don’t believe it’s my call on if you get a vote or not," she answered the Master’s question honestly. "You made the rules, so I think you should tell us," she said with a small smile.

"I’d like to put a pause on rushing back to the perfect life timelines, it’s something I do want to revisit soon, just not this moment. There seem to be more pressing matters that we should address," Bell said.

"It sounds like going after Aden is off the table," she said ruefully. "If it was up to me, I would start with this balance timeline. I’ve made my feelings clear, balance is used to measure fruits and vegetables… or sugar. You cannot balance the light or dark, nor will I ever try," Bell lifted her hands and sighed. "I equate it to a religious zealot going around gathering weak-minded followers to join a movement."

There was nothing else to add, she’d spoken her mind.

Joren inclined his head at Bell’s reply, momentarily distracted from his own tumultuous thoughts regarding Palpatine and his continued existence within the timelines. The Master had reassured them that their actions would eventually catch up with the Emperor, but until that point, they essentially had a spy on their hands. They would need to tread carefully.

"I have nothing more to add about the Balance Timeline," he answered after a brief pause, refocusing his attention on the current predicament. He allowed his gaze to rest on each of them in turn, lingering longer on Bell before continuing. "Other than to reiterate my concerns about those personalities congregating unchecked. Their meddling will cause instability through the timelines, but I feel Bellorum covered it better than me."

He nodded with a slight smile.

"As for Madelyn’s fall, I don’t believe that should be a priority," Joren explained with a small gesture of his hand. "Sure, it’s always difficult when someone falls from the Light—and it’s something we should certainly deal with in time, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s not generating ripples like Caedus and Cocytus. If one of you has a burning desire to handle Madelyn, I won’t stop you. However, for me personally, I want to focus my efforts on the other two—or three, if you count the 'Perfect' Timeline."

Dunkeel gurgled in the back of his throat at the proceedings as the others spoke up, for it was pleasing to his soul. With a sigh, he waggled his head side to side letting the emotions wash through him like a cleansing rain. "I look forward to the vote of The Master." Dunkeel nodded with a slight blow through his nostrils to clear them out to better smell what came next.

"Balance first then, unless a vote is made otherwise? I am open to going to Madelyn and catching up if need be that it cannot wait. Outside of time and I have some familiarity with being two places at once now to draw upon if need be." He gave a silent wave with half-lidded eyes as he viewed this, his family what there was of it left gathered here. The joy and the purpose they shared were infectious, even if he had eventually in the end had to take control as The Master had warned all those eons ago.

The Master regarded them through narrowed perception, shoulders hunched and he seemed to divine Dunkeel's concerns, remaining silent while they deliberated, and then he went upright and flared his hands out. "Let's eliminate Balance's little pocket 'verse, and then go after Cocytus. The Ones declaring War on us is rather silly, and cozying up to a Dark Lord of the Sith? Ridiculous." He shrugged eloquently.

"If you want to commit your minds and powers to said destruction, we can look to cultivating versions of you in the Cocytus and Caedus Timeline, while we send ourselves to places we are not as applicable."

He indicated Dunkeel. "You're welcome to head to speak to Madelyn in person, of course."

"Where do you two intend to go in-person, after you've blown up Balance's dimension?"

It was as easy as that. If all three of them agreed, the Balance timeline would be destroyed.

If they didn't, their quorum would agree, or not.

Then they could pick at the other problems.

Bell nodded along with the Master.

Yes, blow up the atrocity that was the notion of balance.

"I believe you answered your question," Bell said, "after dealing with the pocket verse, then we go where we aren’t already. Was there a place that was more urgent than the others?" she asked.

"What do you think, my dear?" Bell asked Joren.

Joren leaned into Bell’s embrace to acknowledge her words, though his expression remained reticent. There wasn’t much to add to the conversation; they were in agreement about the fate of the Balance timeline. The Master only served to reiterate his point, which the former professor recognized with a solemn nod.

He then glanced down at his lover, resting his chin atop her head.

"Considering we have extensions of ourselves in both the Caedus and Cocytus timelines, they won’t require much maintenance," Joren pointed out mildly, his voice slightly muffled by Bell’s hair. "At least, not for the foreseeable future. We’ll have some time."

He pursed his lips, hesitating for a moment. "I was actually thinking of using this opportunity to revisit the Twilight timeline. As I said earlier, I have unfinished business. I owe them restitution for my actions."

Turning, Dunkeel ran an outstretched claw across the sky. Erasing a light as if it had never been. How many had he just caused to cease? No, they had. With heavy-lidded eyes, he contemplated the philosophical that would claim that the lives ended were truly none, for they lived on in multiplicity of other places. It was cold comfort of an attempt to delude oneself.

Dunkeel shook his head, sparing a tear for those that were no more as if they had never been. "Behold I am Balance. Either the scales are full in equal measure, or they shall be emptied to be made equal. I am made Death, for I have been Life unending." With bowed head, he turned and left for where he was to go, where he was to be, to do what needed to be done.

The Master nodded. Sad.

Anyway.

"Braata, might I ask you stay with me? While Faya goes to sort Madelyn, and Sistros attends to his loose ends." Ike looked over at her, still present, his own form of loose end.

The Master’s tone was pinched, but Ike didn’t say a thing. The Master could pitch his voice any what way he wanted.

"Call your Tho Yor starfighters and you can go, my friends." He nodded to Faya and Sistros.

Dunkeel set into motion the destruction of the balanced timeline, that action would require the cooperation of two more to finalize the ending.

She thought that Dunkeel had shed a tear over the action, but she had no reason to feel sorrow. In her mind, this was solely an act to right the universe.

Bell lifted her hand and held it as if she was placing it against the errant timeline. She saw it as cleaning the slate for something more realistic.

"True balance is a lie, it’s not truly living. Be gone, shed your boring existence, and indulge in the afterlife. Learn to live and enjoy the ups and downs." Her hand moved across the area as she spoke.

She had heard the Master’s comments, and had mixed feelings… there was more business to sort out before she and Aryan would be parted.

Her lip trembled when she looked up into Joren’s eyes, Aryan’s eyes. "You have something that requires your attention in the Twilight timeline, I will be fine here," she glanced over to the Master and then Ike. "I have no memories from then, but I’m sure someone will explain that to me," she said with a determined expression. Placing her hand against his chest she said, "This isn’t like in the past. We aren’t being separated to never see each other again. That is something we no longer have to worry about because you carry me with you. She laid her head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat for a moment. "We share an everlasting bond that links us over space and time."

Bell glanced up at her husband and smiled again, "Don’t worry, dearest, if things get crazy I’ll be right there to save you."

"Then I have nothing to worry about," Joren drawled in a gravelly baritone, canting his head to indulge in this moment. "You are only a breath away. All you need to do is whisper my name. No matter the distance, I’ll always hear you. I’ll be there."

The veracity of his words echoed through their bond, reinforcing his resolve. He knew Bell was right; this wasn’t like the past. Things have evolved far beyond anything they could imagine. They were better equipped and more knowledgeable to handle any situation that may threaten their union. He felt confident that they would succeed in achieving their individual objectives. The Force willed it.

Leaning forward, Joren kissed Bell on the lips before reaching down to interlock their fingers. He then lifted their joined hands and traced the path she had drawn across the sky. It was the same trajectory Dunkeel had used to erase Balance from existence. With their combined efforts, augmented by their bond, they were able to complete the task and absolve the galaxy of a flagrant contradiction.

"Remember, I’ll always be with you," Joren reiterated after he disengaged from her embrace. He flashed a warm smile before glancing toward Dunkeel, silently wishing him luck with a firm nod. Only then did he turn away to summon his Tho Yor through the Force.

His journey was about to begin.

Dunkeel felt the others deepen the line, snuffing out a whole reality. Heard them give their loving parting. As a hunter this shouldn't bother him. But somehow, fundamentally, it did.

Reaching out into the Force he called Heart. Waited for it to arrive. To feel it draw upon their communal energies to power it's drives once more. To step within, sit without seeing, and go where he was needed. For what. . .for what he couldn't remember at the moment. The feelings still muted the mind. It would be fine. What couldn't he handle after all? What opposes them?

Tag: @Sinrebirth @HanSolo29 @Mitth_Fisto

 

IC: Bragi, Sheev
One Abortive Reality Later

There was a sudden shift.

Sheev frowned. He didn’t listen to the question levelled at him. The sky began to crack. Entirely, as if it was glass rather than sky. Meanwhile, Bragi smiled sadly.



“The Ones of Ones have decided to destroy you,” he addressed them all. “Aden Kya, otherwise known as Darth Insipid, son of Traer Lin and Lylithe Kya... Darth Bellorum, entwined with the story of Sybelle. Dunkeel, entwined with the tale of Soliloquy... Joren, entwined with the tale of Aryan Graul…”

Bragi looked into the sky. “Yanjon, Braata, Faya and Sistros, the Sages of Dwartii.” He paused. “They’re the new Ones. They’ve decided to annihilate you, once and for all.”

“I don’t exist anymore… they defeated me,” Bragi shrugged. “My lingering remains are all that exist. My Will. It is gathering those who can oppose them together.”

He looked up. “But it’s too late. The Ones have destroyed this timeline.”

The very sky began to fall, shattered chunks raining upon the wedding ceremony. Bragi became translucent, and Sheev too. “Sorry, my friends. I tried.”

Indeed, those without souls in the strictest sense began to vanish; flaking away. Leaving only those belonging to darthbernael, TheAdmiral, and darthhelinith…

TAG: @darthbernael, @TheAdmiral, @darthhelinith (combo)

 

IC: The Master of Masters

Faya and Sistros and Yanjon had left their little keep at the end of time.

That left Ike, yes, but also Braata. The fourth and last of the Sages. Not his first choice for the role, but it wasn’t as if the role of Traitor hadn’t ended up with one, two and then three others.

The one with the ‘red flame’. How vague. A red lightsaber? Red hair? Red skin? Sufficiently unclear that the Traitor became more than once.

The Master of Masters regarded the small dipyramid ships that the other Sages had taken. There were two left, roughly analogous to the Jedi and Sith Meditation Spheres. The Black Coat paid it no heed. One was for Braata, but she’d get to that. Celestial starfighters that could traverse the currents of the World Between Worlds, which this place was basically a conduit for.

“So, I know you’re baffled, but no surprises, you’re late to the Epitaph and to Twilight.” A dry tone. “But let’s do a brief.” He twirled on his feet. “I created a Forcesaber to send my eye into the future. This created a fixed future, and with that I created the Holocron of Prophecy. That foretold the End of Time.”

“I resolved to undo the Ones and cause a Change that would save Time. Using my six apprentices, for the magic number seven including myself.” He indicated himself with two hands to his chest as he pivoted. “Along the way I had to ensnare the Six Darknesses, those Old Ones that had survived the ancient Cosmic Wars, and lure out their creator, the First Darkness, and thwart the Supreme Maker, who did not wish to be usurped.”

“That all being said and done, we had to contend with various evils becoming self-aware and seeking to commit a Change to their own benefit. Sheev Palpatine, whosever the balance obsessed creep behind Bernael is, Darth Caedus, now Cocytus, and nearly Madelyn Linnett.”

He indicated a desk in the middle of the library to the citadel, up a small lift/staircase, but visible to them down here. The office had a window behind it that showed the One Timeline.





He floated them up, pointed to a bare shelf. On it was a set of six pyramids. “Every Change created a Holocron of Heresies, opposing Prophecy. Every time we bend the Force, it creates a new history, a new future. I used these Holocrons to plan, and plot, and defeat these perversions of reality.”

“As opposed to your actions,” Ike quipped.

“Bingo,” he said drily. “So, what do you think? You were happy to take the initiative against all those shards of balance walking around. The Bernael’s, the Renn’s, the Xundel’s, the Maldael’s, and so forth. So what’s the worry, Braata?”

TAG: @Lady_Belligerent (combo)

 

OOC: a very fun combo with @Sinrebirth - thank you for all of the laughter and the tears too.

IC: Bellorum, Ike, & the Master
the Master’s office


Bell listened closely to the Master; she wished Joren had been able to stay a little longer to translate some of the details for her. The thought didn’t make her sad that he had left, instead she felt peaceful, they were still together.

She glanced over at Ike’s comment, wondering why he was so grouchy. Did it have something to do with Insipid?

“My worry?” Her voice echoed the Master’s question.

Braata smiled softly and spoke, “I’m not sure if you mean why I believe balance is such a bad idea to be selling to innocents? Or my hesitation to decide what I should do from here?” She looked up at the holocrons on the shelf a moment before asking, “also, I’m very concerned that Aden left so abruptly, and that someone leaked information almost before we even knew it.”

She groaned and walked over to the beautiful window.

This was all slightly overwhelming. The fact that Joren and Dunkeel had no hesitation, they knew exactly what they needed to do, but she couldn’t decide.

Was it wrong that she didn’t seem to know where she should be?

“How do I know what I should be doing?” She asked, turning back to look at the Master.

“I didn’t say I thought your views on Balance were bad,” the Master said drily, taking a chair behind the desk. He indicated the other two. “I just was conscious that you are making big decisions here. Destroying timelines even if justified is still an immense task.”

“The leak, as you aver, was a last effort by the Darkness, or an early salvo by the Father. One or the other.” The Master leaned on his elbows on the desk. “The last war is won, and the next begins.” He sounded a little tired.

Ike sat down, crossed his leg. “So we have a bunch of Holocrons that tell us the past and future of each timeline, right?”

“Right,” the Master said, matching the tone of Ike. Ike didn’t say anything else, so the Master turned back to Bellorum. “Aden is Chaos. Did you expect him to take charge of the group? Joren was the leader in my absence, with Dunkeel his conscience. Braata, well, her task was to keep people from talking.” He made little circles on the table with his finger. “She is often the one with a foot between worlds and places, divided by her duty and heart. I’ve tried solutions for that. But me telling you what to do isn’t one of them.”

“These are indeed big decisions, that’s why I take this whole thing very seriously. Joren had no doubt where he needed to go, that wasn’t my experience when you listed off opportunities. I only felt strongly against a balance, it’s such a constricting notion,” she waved her hand, moving on. “When I looked at the remaining lines, I didn’t see a place where I should be.”

Bell gave Ike a look that clearly said, ‘help me out here, dude’.

She did glean a helpful detail from what he had said. Smiling, she said, “however, if you ever need someone silenced, I’m definitely your girl. I can be discreet and no one will see me.”

Leaving the window, she sat down in the remaining chair. Looking at the Master, she said, “I wasn’t asking you to make decisions for me, I was asking how do I know where, or when, to go?” Looking up at the holocrons again she continued, “do I consult one of those?” She asked, pointing out the tempting pyramids.

Ike spoke up. “Basically we get to decide who lives and dies on a cosmic level. Whole timelines. We can ordain what is the right and proper timeline and what is not.”

He pointed at the Holocrons. “These are just recordings borne of Changes. From what you’ve said, we Changed a timeline to avoid the End of Time. Which would make it a Heresy, but instead, the Change we did is fine, and the Change they did isn’t.”

The Master sat back and folded his arms. “So?” He waved a lazy hand. “She just said she was happy to silence whoever I wanted.” Suddenly he added quickly. “Not that I want anyone silenced.”

Her eyes widened and she quickly asked, “are you sure? It sounded like you might have someone in mind.”

Did the holocrons contain the future? She still didn’t get a firm answer on that, but decided best not to press it.

“Did you meet Sybelle?” Bell asked.

The Master paused. Ike tensed. The silence was pregnant. “What do you know about Sybelle?” The Master said eventually.

“Why?”

“Because there is no need to repeat things,” the Master said glibly. “It’s boring for one. So, Braata, tell me what you know and I’ll fill in the gaps.” His voice was a little sad. “Though even I don’t know what happened in the Asylum on Bedlam.”

Ike stiffened.

“But I can make an educated guess if you don’t know already.”

Bell didn’t miss Ike’s reaction, and she couldn’t help but wonder why. This was a topic that had been brushed aside before, no one was willing to fill in the blanks, which was concerning. Whatever happened to Sybelle, was it so horrible that she couldn’t remember?

She and Sybelle couldn’t be labeled a coward, so Bell decided to press on.

Braata leaned forward and replied, “you’re aware of precisely what I know about my distant Aunt Sybelle, so let’s not insult each other by playing games, sweetie.” Her smile was soft and genuine, she hoped that he would understand that she wasn’t being insolent.

“The gaps in her memories… they are worrisome.”

Her eyes were attracted to the holocrons again, “are there answers within one of those?” She asked, pointing up to the shelf.


The Master looked where she pointed.

"Hmmmm," he mused. A flutter, and some of the pyramids came down to the table.

He indicated one. "This is the Caedus Heresy. It is where Sybelle successfully tracks down Aryan Graul, her childhood love."

Another. "This is the Twilight Heresy." The Holocron had no natural glow to it, it was if it was sealed. "Here, I couldn't tell you much about Sybelle. She turned up at the Battle of Coruscant and left the timeline." A huff. "I had to move someone to that timeline to balance it out." A slight shrug. "Of course, Joren, um, Sistros is from this timeline."

He reached into his cloak and deposited a large Holocron on the desk.

It was shaped like a crystal, rather than a pyramid. Unique.



"The One Holocron," he said, softly. "Here, I can tell you that Twilight Sybelle came, and that she tried to track down Aryan. The original Sybelle, the one who met young Aryan Graul on Nubia, dabbled with Palpatine, was taken to Bedlam, and then became the Handmaiden of Empress Palpatine before.... Of course, Bellorum also joined the One Timeline about the same point."

He tapped it. "If you want to know what the fate of the original Sybelle, the One Sybelle." He tapped the Holocron. "It's in this one."

Bell quickly stood up and went closer, it was very dark and she held her hand out to touch it… but she changed her mind and pulled her hand back.

“What if I touch this only to find out it’s a direct portal to Bedlam?” She asked in a quiet voice. “I don’t even know what, or where, this Bedlam is,” Bell said, clearly getting frustrated.

She quickly turned to Ike and appealed to him, “do you know about Bedlam? Or! Can you explain why I get so anxious when anyone mentions it?”

Bell scoffed and fell back into her chair. “I guess it’s obvious this isn’t a case of, ‘Sybelle did something great… then she and Aryan lived happily ever after’.” Her head suddenly ached, she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“None of this helps me to understand what Braata should be doing, I don’t understand why it isn’t as clear for me as it was for Aryan and Dunkeel.”

The Master paused. "I can't see you being sucked into it by touching it. Probably." A slight chuckle.

"Bedlam is complicated. It's a blank space in the Force, a star system in the Mid Rim where the insane dwell, where ships go missing, where the heart of the place is both something and not. A thin portion of reality, which can be accessed with a Key, to take you into the World Between Worlds. Darth Haretisch opened the Well of the Dark Side once, with three such Keys, because that was sealed shut..." He demurred, and Ike cleared his voice to nudge him. "Bedlam is where things End. It makes me anxious too."

"Braata's original role was to be the glue that held everyone together. To keep an eye out on the little guy." The Master sounded like he was thinking aloud. "Sistros was to lead. Faya was to be his second. Yanjon, well, Yanjon was to prepare for what comes next. But you," he reached over to tap her clavicle. "You're the heart."

His voice was soft. "Sybelle did what she had to. To ensure that there was a future for her and everyone."

Bell softly gasped at his touch.

“Thank you for explaining Bedlam,” she murmured with a shudder. “Sybelle must have been a strong woman to survive that… place,” her eyes welled with unshed tears. “Are you saying Sybelle failed to hold everyone together?”

Bell glanced at Ike and then back to the Master, “I want to know how the others failed so that I won’t make the same mistakes. Maybe I need to know about the One Sybelle,” she spoke her thoughts out loud. “Yes, I think that’s a good starting point.”

“You can always go see her,” the Master said lightly.

“How?” Ike interrupted.

“Well,” he leaned back in his seat and linked his hands behind his head. “You could just go there. Insert yourself at that point of the One Timeline. Go to Bedlam.” A booted foot landed on the desk, next to the One Holocron, as he crossed his legs. “Because there is a tiny bit of confusion I can’t answer for you unfortunately.”

“Which is?” Ike was caustic.

“Well I don’t know which Sybellelived.”

In a lifetime of bad ideas, Bellorum thought that choosing to go to this Bedlam place would probably be in her top three.

She looked hesitant for a moment.

“I’m going to need to know things like, can I leave anytime I want?” Bell asked.
“Also, would I interact with Sybelle? Or would I just be watching her?” That sounded creepy, but she needed to know.

Bell squinted at the holocron a moment and then asked, “what do we gain by knowing which one lived”

“Which one is your grandmother, I imagine,” he said laconically. “But yes, you can go back and forth, unless of course you meet an equivalent power that can prevent it.”

“That’s vague,” Ike said, unhappily. “Is there one at Bedlam?”

“I can’t see Bedlam,” the Master sighed. “The Holocron’s of Prophecy and Heresy record what my Eye saw. Not everything.”

There had to be more definitive information because the Master was being maddeningly vague. She had a feeling he could be holding out on her.

“Wait a minute,” Bell said suddenly and sat up straighter. “Why can’t you see Bedlam?” She asked skeptically. “You claim to know about it, but you’ve never been?”

Bellorum stood and began pacing, “I want to know about her… what happened to her. But it feels crazy to just walk into a place like that.” She rubbed her arms in reaction to another shudder, her right hand brushed over her wedding ring. Aryan. “What am I considering?” She asked aloud, not expecting an answer. “Ike, you know that Aryan would never approve of me taking a trip to Bedlam.” Bell pushed her hair back, it was a gesture her husband always makes when he’s perplexed over something she and Ike have done.

“And another thing,” she turned on her heel to face the master, “I want you to give me an example of an equivalent power… please?” Bell asked. She quickly glanced over at Ike and asked, “does this seem reckless to you? Because it looks like it is to me.”

Bell stumbled as a wave of vertigo washed over her. “Oh no!” She saw herself wavering on a cliff…

“Are you telling me that my grandmother could’ve been Aryan’s lover?”

She had brushed that thought aside a moment ago when the Master said it, but now the realization hit like a baradium missile.

"I'm not allowed to go," the Master said. "Its outside my power. It's a place where things happen that cannot be Changed."

He shrugged. "An equivalent power is like, if you found another One, or maybe a Chosen One, if their potential is unleashed. A Dyad, for example, has the power of a One."

Ike winced at the last.

"Oh," the Master said, carefully. "His great-grandfathers lover maybe? Remember, he had a relative also named Norin... and Aryan." A slight chuckle. "Or do you mean your Aryan." He sounded amused. "You did realise this Aryan is based upon a much earlier incarnation, right? Your Aryan you met a hundred and thirty years after Yavin. The Aryan that Sistros is based upon, he is from that time."

"An alternate of that time."

"Yup."

"Oh brother. So they're different people?"

"Different people, same soul, mind you"

"Oh double brother."

"Has this Aryan slept with Sybelle."

"Um."

"When he was a teenager, once? Maybe?"

“Maybe?” Bell gasped. “No!”

Bellorum stumbled back to her chair and sat, her head lowered into her hands for a moment. This subject was seriously distressing to the point where she was either going to throw up or pass out.

After she caught her breath, Bellorum sighed heavily to steady herself and looked over to the Master.

Bell cleared her throat and spoke slowly, “I will thank you not to twist facts purely to inflict stress on me.” Bell was starting to calm down, but had more to say. “Aryan and I have not broken any laws of nature, also we would know if we shared a direct relation, and we do not, so let’s move on.”

The Master had still managed to not quite give her a straight answer. They could sit here indefinitely with her asking the same thing a different way, and continuing to get a different non-answer.

“Fine,” she said suddenly. “I’ll do it. I will go find out exactly what happened to Sybelle, but unless there are two Sybelle’s in Bedlam, how will I find out which one survives?” Bell asked.

The Master let her wring her emotions out, flicked the Holocron's tip. "The original Sybelle appeared last on Naboo, just before the Battle of Jakku. The 'twilight' Sybelle appeared on Nouane, getting entwined with one Pedric Cuf. Bedlam, well, that was before both of them."

"But whatever happened there, it's crucial to finding out what happens," Ike said.

"Yes, in essence. Whatever happens at Bedlam informs what follows. These Holocron's, they're not omniscient." Another tap. "They just tell you what I saw with my eye, as it travelled through time, and, more specifically, the eyes of the Force User who had my Eye."

Ike scrunched up his face. "And where was your Eye, again?"

"In Palpatine's lightsaber crystal, of course. Where else would it be?"

Bellorum hoped the Master was enjoying himself… because she wasn’t.

“Perfect. I was stressed about Bedlam for nothing,” she said flatly. Only now she remembered something, “hold on. I uh, no… Sybelle broke one over Lumiya’s head, unless that was a dream?”

She studied the hooded figure, “was that yours?” She asked.

The Master smiled drily, as evident in his voice. "Yeah, it was. But I have a couple Eyes."

"Bedlam is why I can't tell you what happens to Sybelle. To your several times, great aunt. If you want to uncloak her, Bedlam it is. I can't even locate her in the Holocron; any Holocron. I can tell you about your parents, but not when she left to go do... whatever." A shrug. "It's tied to Bedlam." His tone was firm. "If something can resist my sight, it may even be a threat to us all."

Bell cringed.

“Please accept my, and Sybelle’s, apology. Obviously we weren’t aware that it was yours, and it was all she had to use against Lumiya,” Bell shrugged innocently.

It was so strange that she knew about Sybelle smashing the eye into Lumiya’s head. There was much more knowledge, but she closed her eyes and stopped. It would be too much, Bell wanted to slow down, to uncover those memories as necessary.

“Okay,” Bellorum sighed and sat back in her chair, “I’m beginning to grasp things. Bedlam is home to someone more powerful than you.”

She rubbed her forehead, thinking things through. “It sounds like Sybelle had a holocron when she went missing? Unless I’m misunderstanding?” She asked, needing clarity.

“What about Nouane, maybe I should pay a visit to Sybelle there?”

"Than me," the Master chuckled. "I run time and the Force, Braata. Nobody is more powerful than little ole me."

"Whatever," Ike said. "Which do we do? Bedlam or Nouane?"

"Nouane is as far as I can see the Sybelle from the Twilight Timeline..." the Master said with a shrug. "Naboo is as far as I can see the Sybelle from the Prime Timeline." Another shrug. "So it's really up to you, Braata. Artifacts we can come by ourselves, and though I know you are a far of property, it's irrelevant to those who can bend reality so."

He tilted his head slightly, regarding a piece of flimsiplast on his desk. "I think that's everything, no?"

Ike peeked up, and the Master placed a hand on the paper. "Spoilers."

“This is what I get when I actually try to do something good,” Bell huffed to Ike, but then the Master’s last word clicked.

“What did you say? Spoilers?” Bell gasped. “Oh, no sir. You must not know me that well…” she was not quite indignant, but was getting close.

“I am the dark one, I fight dirty when it’s needed, and I seek all spoilers so that I can prepare myself.”

She got up to pace again. “He seemed to discourage Bedlam, you didn’t seem terribly thrilled about Nouane,” Bell started talking it through, “okay, my gut says Nouane… unless you’ll share those spoilers?” She asked while giving the Master her most alluring grin.

The Master sighed. "Fine."

He handed the piece of paper to Braata. There were actually two sheets, each saying the same thing, and Ike took the other. He looked down and frowned. "This is everything we've just said."

"And what I just said."

"And that," the blood drained from Ike's face.

He looked up. "It's a script. You've already seen this conversation."

"Yup," the Master said, sitting back in his chair, fingers linked over his belly. "So when I say I can't see what's happening at Bedlam, I'm telegraphing that we need to be careful."

Bell swallowed and nodded, looking at the sheet.

“You knew exactly what we would say?” She asked.

Her eyes studied the hooded figure, wondering what was beneath the shroud.

“I —uh, forgive me if I was difficult,” Bell said quietly, checking the script to see if her words were indeed there. “It’s just like I’ve already said, this is important to me,” she sighed, “I do not want to kriff this up.”

She tucked her legs under her in the comfortable chair and leaned back, again looking at the Master’s sheet. It was strange to read the words in his voice, Ike’s voice, and her own. This was one of those times when she would get Aryan’s opinion on things, if only he was there. Bell stared wistfully at the page, the words blurred as she thought of her husband. Aryan was far away, yet she was sure that she felt the impression of him standing next to her, by reflex she reached up to tug his arm so he would lean his head down to her.

The warmth of his touch and the soft bristle of his beard brushed against her cheek, it was a small act, but it was powerful enough that it fully restored her confidence. She knew that they were together, no matter the distance.

Glancing to Ike she asked, “are you coming with me?”

Ike nodded, sharply. "I wouldn't do anything but come with you."

The Master waved a hand lazily. "Just be careful. We don't know what we don't know."

A shrug. "But we might not know nothing. But there is something afoot, resisting us in more than just the obvious ways that the Father is."

He then made a shooing gesture. "You got this. Have confidence in yourself, Braata, your arrival at this moment was your choice, and your path."

She looked up to the Master with a confused expression.

“You didn’t say these things to the others,” she said, suspicion was creeping back in, “why are you saying this now?”

He wasn’t even making sense, of course they didn’t know what they don’t know, ugh!

“What if I decide to just sit here and ask you questions for a while longer?” Bell asked.

"I'm saying it because you and I don't know each other," the Master said, softly. "We've only met in passing, or you've read of me, or heard of me. That's all."

"And as to you staying..."

The Master opened a drawer in his desk and brandished a wad of papers; more scripts. "You were saying?"

"I reckon you could cause a Change just deliberating the right move."

Bell’s suspicion faded.

She grinned and slowly nodded.

“Touché,” she said to the Master, and she meant it.

Glancing at Ike she said, “let’s get going before he finds out how quickly I can change my mind and cause that Change.”

Bellorum linked her arm with Ike’s and said, “Nouane here we come!”

She paused to look back at the hooded being and winked.

Tag: @Sinrebirth @HanSolo29 @Mitth_Fisto

 

The Master of Masters watched them all go.

So that was that.

They'd headed off to bring an end to the various threats they faced.

The Change wrought by Darth Cocytus, and the new branch being created by the fall of Madelyn Linnett.

The Change caused by the Ronin was nearly defeated, so hopefully that wouldn't need divine intervention.

The Branch created by Bernael and his various Shards had been obliterated. Many of the poor, sorry, hosts of Bernael and his 'Balance' had been dropped in the Change the Ones of Ones had ordained happen - the Light timeline. They didn't have the power of their other incarnations, and were just themselves, in theory.

However.

One had to acknowledge what had happened.

The Ones had created their own little perfect timeline. Seeded by the Second Darkness, by Arb, as an idea, it had created a True Republic led by Chancellor Bail Organa for many years.

The Battle of Naboo, the Outbound Flight, the Separatist Crisis, the breaking up of the cartels and Hutt space, the pacification and incorporation of the Unknown Regions...

All had been neatly resolved.

The question of course, one that the Ones of Ones had not asked, was the ordinary ones they had always tripped on.

How did they Change it.

What did Change.

Who was Changed.

Why did it Change.

The answer was actually pretty easy.

To achieve their delightful reality required one very minor change.

He looked at the man he had removed from their perfect timeline to create it.

He was a teenager when the Master casually picked him up.

Sheev Palpatine.

So he had one Sheev Palpatine, and he had a sealed version of him, courtesy of the One of Ones.

Very good.

So, that gave them their Happy Ending Change.

He'd keep Sheev locked in a statue, in stasis, and everything would be peaceful.

Absently he regarded the various Holocrons, the one he had created, the ones that Palpatine and others had, and he looked around.

So far, no Holocron for the realms of Darth Cocytus and the happy clappy Light timeline.

But that would be spoilers, no?

A light chuckle, and he went back to looking with his Eye.

There was plenty to see otherwise.

At the end of the day... they needed to understand what really had to be Changed to bring peace.

MENTIONS ONLY

TAG: @Mitth_Fisto, @darthbernael, @Darth Cocytus, @HanSolo29, @Lady_Belligerent, @TheAdmiral, @darthhelinith

Combo between Aden Kya, @Adalia-Durron and darthbernael still pending

 

IC: Bernael, Balance, and the Father - Informative combo with Sinre...
Location: After the destruction of the Balance timeline, unknown location

The timeline crumbled to dust around the figures that remained. Those who had been there still, with the three that remained, had been swept away by the one who had last arrived. What was left was…well…Bernael didn’t exactly have a frame of reference for where they were. What was left was simply him, ancient in the service of one of the most ancient things in all the multiverse, that which he served, and the Father of the Ones.

Unlike many who would be overwhelmed by such a presence, who would bow in deference, he stood, unbowed, as he faced the powerful being. He, remotely, supposed it was from the eons of association with the other being present. He opened his mouth to speak but then a thought hit and he turned to the third present, one eyebrow arched.

That one, Balance had been unsurprised when the Father appeared, even though it wondered if this was the new Father or the one who had been of the timeline before its destruction. It still appeared like a swirling maelstrom of every shade of grey as it formed the third point of the triangle of the three there. ”And what shall be his fate?’ the toneless voice asked, the question obviously posed to the Father in reference to Bernael.

The Father tilted his head.

"The Anzati's Fate, or yours?"

A feeling of humor radiated from the swirls. ”You forget what I am…” it said. ”Which is by design.”

It turned towards the anzati, ”He is…the greatest of those that held the shards I’d set against the Firsts in the timeline. Which does not preclude that he is or has the potential to be an even greater Darkness than the First.”

The attention of the swirls turned back to the Father, ”You above all know who his Progenitor is and, I can feel, that part of me that aligns with that being has already begun to merge with it.”

"I know the Architects were defeated, and the Old Ones too, for the most part. Yet you cling to them, not to the Ones."

A pause.

"Picking sides in the defeated of the last great Twilight War."

The swirling pattern shifted, the swirls still the main form but taking on a humanoid appearance. The arms of the figure spread, encompassing the space and hinting they encompassed more. ”The original Ones did not succeed, did they? I do recall the Son caused the death of the Daughter. And…” An aura of sarcastic amusement rolled off the figure, ”Destroying this timeline suggests that the new batch...my shards will be needed even more, in even more timelines, because of their…handling of things.”

The Father held up his palm. In it were eight shards.

"These, you mean."

The pink shards enveloped and formed an ornate flower-like arrangement.



Again amusement seemed to radiate from the form. The head turned to contemplate the jewel. The tone of it’s voice also held an edge of humor when it spoke, ”Are you wishing to create a proto me, one tied to whichever timeline it is deposited in?” The swirling shoulders shrugged, ”I should warn you it is not complete, if that was your plan, it is missing….something.”

"You, no doubt," the Father said. "I merely wanted to consolidate you in one place, so we might have a discussion with the full understanding of what, or rather who, you are."

"So tell me your Truth, and I shall fill in the gaps."

This time a chuckle came from the shape. ”To answer what you first said no, not me, the one who created that failed timeline was incomplete in his harvest.” the hand of the figure waved at the gem, ”As to truths, those are…well the multiverse exists and those are the shards of only a specific timeline. I am as far beyond them as you are beyond even a grandmaster or emperor of one of those orders. I stand apart from the timelines, at least as I am, even if those shards return to me in some cases.”

"Ah yes, the one who is now Chaos." The Father said, knowingly.

"That Shard always intrigued me, more than any of the rest, but I did not wish to interfere, or intervene, where one has already died and been replaced."

His double voice grew curious. "That Change drove that shard mad. Why is that?"

The face of the figure had no expression but the sense of a smile came from it, ”The Shards are me, even if they are fractions of my power. But, beyond the shell of them, a miniscule fraction of my self is also there. And I am…not just Light and Dark, not just white and black but every shade between, as well as Chaos and Order. What I truly am…hy would I not be all those?” it asked, wondering if this one wanted to know in hopes to stop him across the multiverse.

"Including mad," huffed the Father. "As mad as the Mothers, no doubt."

The Father didn't seem impressed. "You are an Architect, aren't you."

He referred to the Gods who fought them in the First Cosmic War.

An actual chuckle escaped from the figure. It was a low and clear tone, repeated several times before the figure’s attention returned to the Father. ”You are serious, I see. No…I am no sibling to the one that is his,” One swirling hand gestured at Bernael, ”his Father. I did, quite clearly, state I am from outside the timelines. It might actually be better to say that I’m intricately woven into every single verse in the multiverse, none can exist without me, that which created all made that so.”

"You ally with Architects, you are an Architect," the Father said stiffly. "Your intricate weaving is nothing to the Force. To the Ones." The Shards of the Balance vanished, whisked away. "I restore your Avatar's to themselves. You will no longer be able to make them conduits."

"I do not destroy you out of our understandings in days gone by." A tilt of his chin. "But the Ones of Ones do seek your death. What say you to an alliance?"

The swirling figure noticed motion as the Shards vanished. It’s head turned, glancing at the third figure there. A long, drawn out sigh escaped it as it watched Bernael closely. ”Before I answer your question I should, perhaps, mention that what you just did was a mistake.” The Anzati was barely recognizable as such as his body writhed. ”I was…all that kept his Father at bay. I told you I didn’t work for or with the Architects and now you’ve loosed one, unto who knows where.”

It’s attention refocused on the Father, knowing that it need not worry about the rising Architect. ”I believe…we might actually have to work together, if you wish any of these Ones to survive that is.”

"The Architects lost the Cosmic Wars. I do not fear them," the Father said, imperious. "I care not for whomever you aspire to. But unless you turn away from the Architects too, then you will be a threat."

He held out his hand. "And I will erase you here and now."

The space around the figure seemed to vibrate as it straightened, as both humor and sadness at the Father’s words seemed to fill the space. ”Are you trying to misunderstand what I am? Is it deliberate?” The formlessness around it rang like an unheard bell, ”I am the Creator’s concept made aware…I am…Entropy and Negentropy. I am all and nothing. All are tied to me in those states, not me tied to them. I could no more set aside you or the Ones than I could the Celestials, the Architects, the Kwa, the Gree, the Rakatans, every being aware or not, in every reality.” It wasn’t bragging, it was simply stating fact. ”I support all and I support none. A concept has no loyalty to any save those that know and have chosen to be agents of mine. Like the one here that you have chosen to destroy.”

"This is war," the Father reminded him. "A war for the Force. Interlopers cannot be allowed. A side must be chosen."

He sounded almost sad about it.

"The Architects, the Old Ones, you use the Changes. The Master of Masters wouldn't know what he has wrought. He wasn't there, during the Cosmic Wars." His tone was grim. "It may already be too late."

The figure radiated what could be considered a touch of sadness. ”I was, at least I observed it. But…” he glanced at the still writhing Anzati, ”There was a reason I was created to be dispassionate. One part of that was so any of my shards could just as easily support one side or the other to keep Creation, not just one timeline or another, but all of it, from being ended. For me to choose one side has the potential to destroy all.”

Energy pulsed around it at the sound of what could be called a sigh, ”Although these Ones are…acting in a manner that would unbalance all of reality and not just their carefully crafted ones. You, however, have taken away one of the few tools that could work against their actions.” It gestured at Bernael, ”As, without their Shards, even if they ever learn what they were, they will still act as their nature would have been if I had never touched them.”

The Father's brow beetled. "You don't know what is created by a Change, do you? Why the Ones had to keep the timeline unified, and on it's path, no matter how tragic." He shook his head. "How could you know what had happened six times before, during the Cosmic Wars?"

”It would be better to say that I don’t…care…perhaps is the right word, what is wrought by a Change as long as reality remains.” A wave of concern flowed from it for a moment, the aether around it shivering momentarily. ”There are worse things than one or several timelines being destroyed, even due to Changes.” the figure mused, in a graveyard tone. Its head tilted to the side, contemplating the Father. ”How could I not understand Changes? It was the Master of those who are now the Ones who caused the Change that allowed me to insert my Shards into that timeline.”

The Father thundered. "EVERY TIME THERE IS A CHANGE IT CREATES A DARKNESS."

The figure tilted it’s head, ”You do not know how to create a Light to balance that Darkness?” it asked, somehow disappointed if that were true. Sighing, ”Their very efforts are creating Changes across Reality. Yes, they may have kept one timeline stable, their idea of stability and I do say might have, but many others are…being ripped asunder.”

The Father looked deflated. "Only the Maker can create a Light. The Celestials have not grown in number for many millennia. How many Changes, do you think? In how much danger are we?"

”All realities under my direct purview are safe but otherwise…” it stated with a shrug. ”either that perfect reality falls or the amount of Changes that would happen...” the aether around it shivered as it did. ”uncountable.”

The Father glowered. "That foolish Trayus. We should never have trusted them. But we sought to redeem those who fought in the Cosmic Wars against us..." His chin turned. "You see why we do not trust you, when we have been betrayed so."

”To be fair, I have never seen the need for trust with any being save my agents. You must understand why…all beings eventually are mine in the end, the manner of their lives, save to ensure Realites continue is all that matters.” The figure’s tone was not cold, simply factual. ”That being said…what these new Ones are doing threatens to undo most of the multiverse.”

"Then forsake the Architects. No Cold Danda, no Tilotny, no Ap. Those Darknesses have been and gone."

Again the aether rippled with a touch of amusement, one of the figure’s hands gesturing at Bernael. ”Are they?” it asked. ”You ask me to forsake things that lived and thrived then were removed. They too are…became part of what I am, as did the original Ones, that is part of what it means to be…me.”

The Father stared at him for a long time. Then he folded his arms and released a huge sigh. ”Tell me what you want to do.”

Once again amusement whispered in the aether. ”Well…someone should prevent your Ones from destroying every Reality.” The amusement turned sour, ”Although, I am tempted to pull every resource or related resource my agents have care for from every timeline they currently occupy that your Ones touch, lock every of those that are cared for by those agents away, in timelines protected from your Ones.”

Almost ignored, not having taken part in the discussion, Bernael’s form had continued to writhe and shiver. As the swirling figure finished speaking a dry, dusty whisper that gained strength with each syllable came from his lips, ”Thank…you…”

The Father folded his arms.

"Where a Change occurred after our passing, we cannot intervene further. We have not passed away in only two of the timelines. One of those two will be the true one we select."

He paused while that sank in.

"But only after the death of Daritha Trayus."

”You have objected to me…but yes, I agree, that one is pure chaos, exists only for their own devices and not for the good of any save themselves.”

"Kill him, and I shall consider your role anew. Fail, and I shall erase you."

At that, the Father departed.

The figure hovered where it was for a moment, watching the eddies of where the Father had been. Shrugging, knowing that for the two of them to fight would result in more chaos than even the mess these Ones had created, he turned to look at what had been Bernael.

”Destroy my own creation…I manipulated reality to ensure you were created in the first place, Bernael, set you on your path. You have done wondrous and horrendous things in my service.” it said quietly.

Its hand waved, Bernael beginning to vanish, from his feet upwards. Somehow though, Bernael’s face took on a smile.

”Feeling…feeling a bit…Lighter?” the voice came from him, tone almost mocking. ”I doubt the Father, that…balanced…being too, felt it either.” he went on, still disappearing.

”But…thank you…the Architects…an Architect...lives again, is more of a Darkness than even you or the Father realize…and I’m free to act wherever, whenever I desire…” Bernael’s…no, Sine’s…hand made a complicated gesture and the aether snapped as it ripped and swallowed him.

The figure once again shrugged, ”This…complicates things…”

TAGS: @Sinrebirth, anyone one else who might be interested