A few hours later, a transport finally came for us and took us back to Shikaakwa. After my influence lingered for too long, Vessira had to spend a few days lying in bed and meditating, restoring her balance.
Meanwhile, pacing circles around the cargo bay, I tried to stay calm—time passed, and there was still no news from Mom. Worse, even after contacting Hadiya through a relay satellite, I learned it was quiet there too; nobody had called anybody. Hadiya, once she'd made sure I was fine, let herself relax—though during the call her very first words, "Well?!" and that demanding look were a little scary. There was no doubt that if I'd said there were problems, measures would have been taken immediately.
What saved me was that when Ves came to, she started calming me down with every strength and method she had. Sometimes the methods were too good, yeah… but it did occupy my head, and at least for a while I stopped thinking about possible… or already-begun problems.
After we arrived on Shikaakwa, Hadiya joined in. She took one look at the situation and… loaded me up with work. Supposedly she was already processing paperwork to transfer some companies to me, so: "Learn, dear hubby, how to manage them."
The funniest part was that she didn't do it just to help me (though that too), but to make sure Ves had less time to bat her eyelashes at me. Hadiya herself was busy, and the idea that while she was working, her "rival" was enjoying herself with her husband… well. In short, Ves got assigned something too. And as soon as the Tyrant of All Shikaakwa found a free window, she herself was not averse to distracting me from work and getting a bit of affection.
Only after a taked did the Order contact us and ask us to fly to Tython. No explanations—what for, why, or how. Nothing at all. Just a polite request, and from Tsikuna. The Sith looked as cheerfully usual, which gave me hope for a favorable resolution. After all, she was Mom's friend, and if she was in a good mood, it meant things weren't that bad.
This time we flew to Tython on Hadiya's ship, escorted by my Curator and Sinner—a small cruiser fresh off the slips. On the way, I discussed a hundred and one schemes with Hadiya about how, what, and to whom we should say things at the "trial," what form to use, and how to twist the facts. The options started from the lightest and ended with the worst, where we'd have to leave Kaleth fighting. That was why the Sinner was brought along: the ship was meant for storming ground positions and carried a couple of small tactical charges—just in case.
However, when we arrived, we were surprised: everything went completely differently than expected…
"Irbis?!" I stared at my teacher like he was a ghost—because he was the one meeting us at the ramp.
"May the Force be with you, Shade," the Master bowed courteously.
As usual, half-ignoring tradition, I simply hugged the Noghri.
"Irbis, I'm so glad to see that long face of yours!"
"Yes, Shade, I'm glad to see you too," Irbis said, dropping the barrier that hid his emotions and showing what he felt. "Vessira. Hadiya."
"Master," Ves bowed. Hadiya limited herself to a simple nod.
"How did you end up here?" I demanded, looking at the Noghri.
"Well… by accident. Do you know why you were summoned?"
"No idea at all," I admitted honestly, not even imagining what waited for me.
"Aala contacted the Star-Seekers, helped get to the hypergates in the Old City, activated them, which shook the ground there for several days, then went to the other side, returned, brought back the missing research group… In short, it's a mess."
"… "
"Don't worry. It doesn't concern you."
"And…"
"You were invited to say goodbye to your father."
"I don't understand…" There was no need to act—I really didn't get it.
"Aala brought your father's body back from the other side of the hypergates. Unfortunately, he sacrificed himself to protect the surviving members of the expedition, and the farewell ceremony will be held soon. How soon, I don't know—right now it's… a little not the time."
"Um…"
"It's been dragging on for more than three takeds," Irbis continued, misunderstanding me in his own way. "The Council questioned the members of the expedition, reviewed the materials Dalien delivered, spoke with your mother. In general, everything's boiling over, and it looks ready to explode."
"And Mom—does she face anything?"
"Well… that's harder. You see, the Council split. Some demand the maximum punishment for those responsible for disobeying the ban and putting the entire system at risk."
"Ha!"
"Some, on the contrary, defend them and fiercely cover for them."
"Tsikuna?"
"Not only. And some are leaning toward simple exile. In short, Shade, my advice—don't get involved. Though what's the point of saying that? You'll get involved anyway."
"Heh. You know me well."
"Eh…" He switched from me to the girls. "Hadiya."
"Hm?"
"I understand Vessira. But what are you doing here?"
"What, I can't take a walk with my husband?"
"Knowing you, there's a vague suspicion you're not here just for a walk." Hadiya only shrugged, and Irbis sighed again. "Shade."
"Yes, Master?"
"Do me a favor—let it all end peacefully. All right?"
"Teacher, you wound me to the depths of my best feelings!"
"Maybe… Come on."
So we followed Irbis into the Temple. Though Mom and Dalien were listed as detained, in practice they lived in ordinary residential rooms under guard. Master of the Temple Enil Kesh, Tsiuan-Yan, beat his heel on his chest defending Dalien's interests. No wonder: he was the first to appreciate what that group of unhinged lunatics had brought, and he passed that thought to his colleague in Wur Tepe. So a pair of science maniacs were putting the question point-blank and wouldn't hand Dalien and his group over to bad hands even at gunpoint. Sure—who in their right mind would give up a top-class specialist in abracadabra? And Mom would get taken along too, even if she were exiled.
Mom herself was kind of exiled and kind of not. Kind of facing punishment, but on the other hand—she ought to be rewarded, because Tsikuna, after talking one-on-one with her friend, framed it so that Mom acted according to her own vision of the Force, and the Council was wrong, and Dalien's sister was a fool and a panicker. The latter, naturally, took offense and wasn't going to give up easily—but facts are facts.
The Master of Kaleth pressed for the harshest punishment at least for Mom going against the Council's decision and endangering the entire system. With Dalien it was more complicated. Not only had he repeatedly deceived the Je'daii, he also regularly threw obstacles in their way. It should be recalled that twenty years ago, these radicals apparently stole not one but two Sleeper Ships, one of which Dalien still flies to this day. And in general, the Star-Seekers are, technically, a terrorist organization and a sect in one bottle—at least from the Order's point of view. But none of that helped decide what to do with him, because despite all the problems, the potential payoff more than compensated.
Back to Mom… Master Mahara Kesh argued for softening the punishment and limiting it to simple exile, or at most imprisonment for a set time. The one foaming at the mouth to kill everyone responsible was the Master of the Temple of Martial Arts, Stav Kesh. He produced an entire list of Mom's violations—and dredged up old ones too. Apparently the man was still burning from Mom's past sins; they'd never gotten along.
The Master of Padawan Kesh held a neutral-positive stance toward Mom. From his point of view, she should be scolded for prevention, rewarded, and waved through, because you don't argue with results. And as for contacting sectarians… well, not sectarians at all, but a perfectly respectable organization that went to extreme measures to show the Order its error, since otherwise nobody listened. How many slippers were thrown at him after that is better left unspoken.
I cracked up when I heard about Master Enzer Da'kotom. That Talid just sat there attaining zen, pretending none of it concerned him at all. And in general, once Mom passed a Force-control check, he calmed down, confirming the woman was of sound mind, and from that angle there were no claims. Moreover, he agreed that, per her personal Force vision, she acted sensibly and correctly—but he agreed quietly, from the side, so as not to get caught between fights.
The Master of the Temple of Art also expressed dissatisfaction. Laws aren't written for beauty—be so kind as to follow them. If you saw SUCH a vision, you should have warned the Council and acted with its approval, not freelanced. That's when Tsikuna howled and started throwing it in their faces that twenty-five years ago Saros had tried to convey his point to the Council members of that time, but it ended in his exile. And the Miraluka had to take everything into her own hands. So who's right now, and who's the fool?
After talking to Mom, I learned she wasn't worried at all. With complete indifference, as if nothing had happened, she chatted with Dalien about the past. She'd already decided everything for herself, regardless of what the Council ultimately came up with. For Dalien it was a bit harder: he wasn't going to hand the results of his work to others, and would try to continue. After all, what if he managed to recreate the hypergates? Especially now that he had at least two loyal members of the Order's Council.
And against the backdrop of all this arguing, Hadiya and I appeared. Exchanging a glance with that charming devil's advocate, we went to defend justice. Well… rather Hadiya went, while I stood by the wall as the party whose interests were touched only indirectly. And then it sta-a-a-arted…
Essentially, Hadiya acted as usual: she shifted from defense to offense. Accusations of the Council's incompetence rained one after another, facts were twisted, and the girl went so far as to accuse the Council of departing from its own dogmas. Like: you had something "seem" to you, you didn't check, and now it turned into a mistake because of which worthy beings died. And how many more such "disputed" prophecies are there?
Irbis watched it, went pale, watched again, grabbed his first heart, went pale again, then grabbed his second heart—and so on in a circle, because it began to smell like a schism. Only smell like it, for now, but even that was a warning bell that something had to be done. And I was pouring gasoline on the fire too, stirring up a fuss and lamenting, "Oh, poor Mom, body and soul for the Order, for Tython, and they treat her so unfairly…" and so on. Hadiya used it too, like: "So much for being friends with Je'daii when they're ready to trample even their own." In the end, my little vixen cut loose on the Council to the fullest, to the point that Tsikuna had to come to me and ask that I restrain my passion before she drove everyone—including herself—over the edge.
I passed Tsikuna's words to Hadiya. At the next meeting she made a couple of announcements, the last of which said: "Either you drop the accusations and admit the mistake, or we announce this incident publicly." And now recall that among ordinary citizens the Order isn't popular; many believe the Je'daii have gotten too full of themselves. Moreover, the Star-Seekers were financed first and foremost by those opposed to the Order. If a blunder like this Je'daii misstep is thrown to the masses—and the facts are "adjusted" a little—then… what happens next is hard to say, but nothing good.
The Council members thought the same, took in what they'd thought, a-a-and… let it all slide.
In the end, Mom formalized her departure as voluntary, the Star-Seekers sect was registered as a private organization, and their research was officially transferred to Enil Kesh along with the distinguished scientists led by Dalien. Hadiya was asked not to spread it around and, in general, to frame it so that all of it looked like an initiative of the Je'daii. Naturally, not for pretty eyes, but for preferences for her beloved husband—that is, me.
I seriously considered leaving, but… it didn't work out. A howl rose no worse than before, because EVERYONE howled. Literally everyone. Even the Masters of the Temples of Science and the Forge. And Dalien with them. They howled for different reasons. The latter howled because they learned from Dalien that the Kwa holocron works not on the dark side, not on the light, but on the Unifying Force—and to interact with it safely you need a Force-user of the same kind. And since it turned out I'm the only one… well. They're not letting me go.
Master Mahara Kesh saw in me a promising adept of the Unifying Force; the Master of Kaleth simply didn't want to lose sight of me… and Tsikuna howled too, though why she cared I never understood. She started pestering Mom so she'd talk sense into me. Kriff, even the monks moved, because they saw a lot of new discoveries in me.
So I very quickly became a Master of the Unifying Force. For now only nominally, but the time will come and the status will stick. By the way, I'm not even the youngest Master—there have been guys younger and cooler than me. Along with the title came a number of preferences, including my own Peacemaker-class cruiser. Turns out they don't hand those toys out to just anyone, and simply "buying" one isn't an option—special goods. Also, Tsikuna told me in secret that among the Council members a topic came up about a new temple preaching the Unifying Force and, accordingly, students. For now it's only talk, but the time will come and, if nothing changes—if I keep improving—it could become reality. Now I'm sitting here thinking, "And what the kriff do I even need that for?"
Because of all these changes, the Council canceled my supervision of Hadiya, and instead assigned… Irbis to her. Under the pretext that he should keep an eye on the girl so she doesn't get killed by accident. Hadiya looked at that, looked, and shrugged. Like: "Thanks for at least him, and not some random rookie." Irbis himself was "thrilled." And how thrilled I was when I saw that sour scaly mug—mmm. A fairy tale.
With all that, we still didn't bury Father. They put him in the morgue, and there he lay for almost half a year. And only when everything was legalized, the questions resolved—only then was the farewell date set…
***
After gathering the firewood in a rectangle and laying the body on top of it, everyone who had once set out with Father gathered around. The surviving members of the expedition, those who owed him their lives. Members of the Order's Council and some Masters who had known Father personally were there as well. And Mom and I were there too.
Standing a little behind her, I watched Mom. As she said, she had long accepted Saros's loss, but… she still couldn't keep herself together. Completely sealing her emotions, she stood with clenched fists, her face showing resentment and grief.
"Mom?"
"It's fine, Shade. It's just… I'm a little angry. Angry that he chose that road, and not me."
"Maybe he chose you after all. You just don't know everything?" I stepped closer.
"Maybe. He said he would follow the path of the Force. That he would prove the Council wrong. And prepare the road for a successor. I didn't understand those words back then, but now… looking at what all this has turned into, I'm starting to understand. I think he had a vision. Saros wasn't a madman; he was a seer, and he always knew what he was doing. That was the last argument in our quarrel back then," she put an arm around me. "Maybe he didn't see you, Shade, but for some reason it seems he definitely knew about you even before you were born."
I didn't answer. I just watched the bonfire slowly catching, remembering how I myself had supposedly seen my children. Father… how I would have liked to talk to you. I don't think I've ever had as many questions in my life as I do now.
Mom raised her hand first. Then the others, and me as well. The fire leapt up fiercely. The flame, filled with the Force, surged upward, carrying with it particles of a great being who had given everything he had for his goal.
Sliding Mom's hand from my shoulder, I turned to Vessira, who was standing behind everyone. And there, right behind her, was him—Father's ghost. He stood and smiled.
Tugging Mom's sleeve once, I made her turn. The Force-ghost nodded and vanished. Vessira, realizing we weren't looking at her, tried to find the object of interest, but there was no trace left of him.
"I'll kill him…" Mom whispered, her lips barely moving.
"Will you reach him?" I glanced sideways, skeptical.
"Yes."
And you know, somehow I even felt a little sorry for Father. Just a little. With our alchemy and our understanding of the Force, she really can find him first—and then explain her point of view on all of this properly.
That was how Father's farewell passed. My faith that for a Je'daii a second life in the Force begins after death grew stronger, and I was calm for everyone who had gone into it. Not that it makes the sadness of loss easier—but at least I won't torment myself. And maybe… not "maybe," but definitely, when my time comes, we'll all meet in the Force.
Then life gradually moved into working days. We were transferred to Enil Kesh, where I was harnessed to dig into the Kwa holocron; Vessira continued self-training; and Hadiya was demanded back home to solve the next round of problems.
Before young tyrant flew off, before I vanished into a work frenzy, and before they found work for Ves, I decided to carry out an emergency procedure: bring both girls into a positively squealing state.
Bursting like a whirlwind into one of the Masters' laboratories and scaring the man half to death, I asked him to urgently help with something. Since I can't fuse alloys—and more than that, I produce some kind of crap—and this needed the subtle approach of a true Master of his craft, that was exactly who I went to. One of Enil Kesh's living 3D printers specialized in making specific small parts for various needs.
After apologizing and explaining the urgency, I asked for help casting three ornaments using the Force—right now, because tomorrow would be too late. The ornaments were three rings. An especially strong alloy, resistance to time, and a special color: a black metal alloy with white painted streams of the Force.
After we haggled over the price of the service, the Master did everything on the spot—he had all kinds of materials stashed—so that same evening I lined my two ladies up side by side and watched their confused faces with anticipation.
"Ladies. Since a new stage of life is starting for us, and we've known each other for a long time, and I did give you a promise… Anyway, Ves, remember I told you about a language nobody speaks?"
"Yes," the Cathar nodded, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. Hm… they suspect me of something bad? Did I really give a reason? Ah… yeah.
"Ahem. Anyway, that people had one tradition I liked. When someone there was going to get married, there was an exchange of rings. A-a-and, anyway, ladies…" I pulled a little box from behind my back and opened it. "I'm no great romantic, but I'm asking… be with me to the end."
"… "
"… "
Yeah—definitely not the reaction I'd expected. Both just stood there blinking. Hadiya was the first to gather her thoughts: she squealed at the top of her lungs and hung on my neck. Nearly made me drop the box of rings, by the way.
Vessira was calmer. She simply stood there not understanding why. Hadiya didn't care about anything; she was thrilled by the fact that I(!!!) wanted to marry her. For once. Officially. Vessira, as a true Je'daii, thought about the traditional oath before the Force and simply didn't see the point of my actions—though she tried to examine them. Really tried—she even scrunched her nose. Watching her internal torment, it was impossible not to smile: the Cathar couldn't even understand Hadiya's joy.
"Yeah, rings. Pretty rings. Shade proposed an oath. So what? He's already mine anyway… I don't get it,"—that was roughly how her thoughts flowed, or at least how it was possible to interpret that pantomime of emotions. But then, apparently deciding to drop all that fuss, she broke into a smile, stepped closer, and hugged me too.
Unfortunately, since Hadiya had to fly off urgently, we decided to hold the celebration later. No, we could have performed the rite on Shikaakwa, but for the next couple of years they definitely wouldn't even let me go to the moon from Tython. It was good they didn't assign a personal minder—some people had that thought. And those same "some people" had a thought to not let me out of Enil Kesh at all, but—knock on wood—I talked my way out of that "honor."
And as soon as Hadiya flew off, the working days stretched on… and far from routine. What Father and his group found didn't let not only me get bored—two whole temples were in an uproar because of it. We decided to start small: with how the Unifying Force interacts with materials. Pulling information from the holocron, I punched it into a computer, and from there the relevant departments took it.
We also pulled new methods of processing materials from the holocron, as well as ways to synthesize those materials—because we physically didn't even know all of them—and also how to interact with them and what can be made from them. After loading up the technical scientists, I went to load up the monk-scholars with new Force techniques, not forgetting to warn that everything extracted is primarily for those who wield the Unifying Force, so it would need adaptation.
During the extraction I engaged in self-study, trying to absorb what I was pulling out. It went… so-so. Not enough experience, not enough practice, but time and regular training would fix both. And I had to change the diary with records, because abusing its memory card any further was asking to lose all the entries.
The real breakthrough came when I understood the principle of the Kwa holocron. After banging my head against the wall for a long time trying to unravel the secret, the "giraffe" finally got it—either that, or the Force took pity and handed the discovery to an idiot.
And the solution was so simple. So simple that I fell into despair and a sense of my own inadequacy, but Vessira was there—using massage and positive emotions to bring my faith in myself back.
It all came down to those very Force crystals. I have two kyber crystals in hand—some of the most common stones in our region that can be infused with the Force, but far from the only ones. Those stones are the link between the Force and matter. We fuse them into personal armor, we make amplifiers from them—kriff, they're even used in shipbuilding. But in weapons…
Seized by the idea, I went to the weaponsmiths. This time they didn't immediately tell me to kriff off. They didn't, even when I mentioned a lightsaber—only asked again what exactly I envisioned. So I explained: a cast hilt with a kyber crystal fused into it, then the whole thing processed with the Force. After that, the crystal needed to be looped to "pyrokinesis," the shape regulated, the stone calibrated, and the Force fed in as energy, the way it's done with ordinary metal blades. As a visual demonstration, I formed a small plasma sphere of the Force above my open palm.
The Masters were intrigued, and together with me sat down to work it out. Using what we'd pulled from the holocron, I managed to find a technique for working metal so it would stay metal, not become kriff-knows-what. That way, I assembled four hilts—two to my own design, and two for later experiments. The weapon Masters didn't sit idle either and built four more hilts in the same style.
Then the processing began. The metal had to withstand excessive Force pressure and high temperatures, so for several days in a row I simply sat over the hilts and meditated, changing their properties. Only after that did I inlay a random Force stone into the test piece.
Tuning the stone through meditation and fixing it inside the hilt via "soldering" was a separate headache. Since the stone was "cold"—meaning nobody had worked with it—it gave in reluctantly. When that stage was done, I began, again and again, to spin the image of what I wanted from the thing. Like a looped recording, repeating it over and over, with two commands: turn on and turn off.
When it was time to activate it, an entire commission gathered. Even Dalien tore himself away from his research to watch my efforts. So, everyone behind armored glass, the test piece on a pedestal, I fed the Force into it. Nothing. I increased the pressure. This time the blade started "huffing," like a broken little motor trying to spit something out. Thinking it lacked power, I increased the pressure even more, but…
I don't know where I messed up, but it hit so hard that the armored glass set into the wall spiderwebbed with cracks—and on the lab side it even partially melted. The problem wasn't obvious at first. It turned out the blade simply didn't obey me. Yes, it worked as intended. Yes, it executed commands while in my hand—but only because I forced the stone to work the way I needed. And the moment contact was broken, it shorted and stopped responding. I also learned you can't transmit the Force "remotely"—you need direct contact; otherwise it draws from the surrounding space, and that's dangerous.
To test the theory, the second sample had to be built immediately as a proper version. After repeating the steps, I used the same kyber crystal I'd found back during training in Tsigun Kesh. Unlike the first test piece, everything went smoothly: the stone seated in the hilt as if the hilt had been made for it. Tuning and calibrating also went quickly; the stone didn't resist and met me halfway.
Then the urge hit to do something stupid. Holding the blade in front of me, I kept wanting to activate it right now. Despite the first result, there was no fear—only a clear certainty that this time it would work. Giving in to temptation, I fed the Force into it right there in the laboratory. The Masters watching went a little numb—but when they saw a burst of white energy, they swallowed every curse. The blade worked flawlessly. I heard it, felt it as part of myself, and understood: it wouldn't fail me or harm me.
Stepping away from the table and making a couple of swings, I grinned stupidly. A child had just gotten the toy he'd dreamed of. Relaxing my fingers, I lifted the weapon above my palm. No problems. Right in the air, I toggled it on and off a few times. I realized it charges on the Force only while it's in my hand. The moment contact breaks, it runs on its own stored charge until it drains it completely.
Kriff. Strange feeling. I'm holding it, and it's wildly unfamiliar. Because the blade has no weight, it felt like I was holding not a sword, but some sort of flashlight. A flashlight with black flickers running through it from time to time. And that flashlight responds in the Force—almost nuzzles, or something.
We immediately ran a series of cutting tests. The blade reliably cut everything put under it, including a Force-infused metal sword. Nothing could stop it—not even an armor plate infused with the Force to a white heat. Riding the success, I built a second one like it. A metal hilt with a rough gripping surface and wrapped leather strips. The pommel had four spikes directing the flow where I needed it. The hilt itself was slightly enlarged so, if needed, it could be gripped with two hands.
After playing with the blades, I handed them to one of the Masters. To my surprise, he simply couldn't activate it. Though… that made sense: for it to work you need both the dark and the light side at once, not just one. More than that, I could hear the weapon's displeasure in someone else's hands—like a slight discomfort coming through a mental channel.
We stopped tormenting the unfortunate weapon and decided to build a blade that runs on a specific side of the Force. Same idea, but this time the entire process was done by someone else. During the experiments we found that a blade running on the light side refuses to start at all. The light side, in its pure form, couldn't produce a destructive beam—not its profile. But as an amplifier for the dark side, it worked wonderfully: the energy blade came out perfectly even and stable, as if there were a physical core inside.
Switching the aspect from light to dark, we did create a weapon, and it even worked—glowing violet, exactly the color of the embedded stone. But compared to mine, several differences were obvious. First, the blade seemed to pulse, and to maintain it the Je'daii had to keep themselves in a negative state. Very negative. Second, stability: unlike my blade, working like a fine Kalimara timepiece, that thing could blow in your hand. You couldn't relax, couldn't let go of control—best case it shuts off, worst case it detonates. After the first sample, nobody wanted another "boom."
And there was a third difference. Running the same tests and then crossing the two blades, the difference in effects was plain. The dark-side blade was more powerful than mine, yes. To cut one especially strong alloy, I had to apply effort; the dark-side blade cut it with ease and slightly faster. But when the blades met, I could press it down: with a particularly heavy strike, the dark-side blade simply shut off and had to be "restarted." Or you had to pre-charge it with far larger volumes of the Force, and only then could it resist mine.
Another difference was control. While I only had to will the activation and the weapon activated on my will alone—not even a thought—on the dark-side blade, that trick didn't work. There you had to strain. Though… that likely depends not on the blade itself, but on how bonded the crystal embedded in it is to the wielder.
Our games of scientific research around glowsticks were interrupted by Mom. Visiting her beloved son, she asked how I was doing, asked about the new discoveries, and told me how she herself was settling in now. A funny twist: after leaving the Order, her ship was transferred to me, and since I'm on Tython, I returned it to Mom's use. She was looking for a new home somewhere on Shikaakwa, closer to future grandkids. Yeah… time passes, and she doesn't change. At least something in this world is stable.
Then she showed interest in my development. After a brief explanation—what the weapon was, how it worked, and a demonstration of several prototypes—she, under my stunned gaze, activated one of the Force Blades with no problem. With a completely everyday motion, like she'd always done it.
"Uh…?" My jaw dropped, eyes wide in a very uncivilized way.
"Good weapon," she said, making a couple of swings, then returning it to its previous position, point up. "Shade, will you make me one?" She looked at me, switching the weapon off.
"Yes… Mom, are you okay?"
"Yes. Why?"
Staring into her eyes, I didn't see even a hint of yellow. Smiling at my suspicion, she explained:
"Don't worry, I really am fine. Everyone has their little secrets, right?"
"Or cemeteries in the closet," I added, folding my arms across my chest in indignation and shaking my head.
"To each their own," she shrugged.
I explained the process, and under my supervision she assembled Force Blades for herself. But the stones didn't obey her—they were neutral. To solve that annoyance, I suggested she meditate over the stones for several days to establish a connection, but Mom refused. Instead she took both blades in hand, stepped into the center of the room, and sank into meditation. Her block couldn't hold, and I could feel how much pain filled her soul. Like an overflowing чашa, it spilled over the rim, and it made me uneasy.
Then the blades ignited. Dark red, like blood, they pulsed in time with their owner's heart. When Mom opened her eyes, I saw a yellow iris that quickly shifted back to normal. The blades still worked as before, but at least without such vivid pulsing.
"That's all."
"What did you do?"
"I merely shared my old wounds. If you haven't noticed, when I saturate things with the Force, my blades have always glowed reddish."
"Um… yeah, somehow I never noticed."
"What can you do. When the owner suffers, Force stones bonded to them weep along with them," she gave a sad smile, turning to me.
"Mom, and…"
"Can we close this question?" Mom cut me off, asking as she switched the blades off. "I don't want to bring it up."
"Okay."
I don't know what's in Mom's soul, but… looking at the blades, it's clear it isn't fluffy bunnies. And if she's lived like this my whole life, it's scary to imagine. I remember for a time I constantly blamed the Sith, and that learning the dark side is hard? I take it back. This is the true adept of the dark side of the Force: perfect control, not dimming the mind by even a jot. I don't even know whether I'll ever be able to come close to that in wielding the Unifying Force.
And if you think about it, Mom isn't unique. In Wur Tepe and Enil Kesh there's a whole list of Masters who regularly spend hours, if not days, deepening into an aspect of the Force for the sake of work. And there are also monks trying to comprehend the nature of the Force, again by diving into aspects. Not to mention regular pilgrimages to Force nexuses. Those who can't cope are sent to one of the moons, and those who can… those I can see with my own eyes.
And there are also those who didn't come back. Those who vanished into an aspect of the Force, going too deep, but in the end were able to return. Those are monsters among monsters—there are a couple like that wandering right near me.
Those thoughts pushed me to step away from science for a while and try to plunge into the Unifying Force deeper than before. I even began preparing, and Vessira—darting around as my helper—actively supported me with pure focused faith. And not just faith. She'd bring me vorka, bring a snack, simply brighten me with her attention, or ask for attention herself—and it made me happy, because her emotions were so delicious. Ah… my sweet kitty.
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Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: patreon.com/Granulan