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Chapter Text

On the planet of Yavin 4, within its jungle canopies, a soft hum of construction fills the air. Ant droids scurry around carrying slabs of marble building what looks to be the walls of a temple. The architecture of the structure was round, blending into the background of the forest with unfinished walls. In the heart of the stonework, was a courtyard, with stone paths leading to different chambers. 

In one chamber, surrounded by relics, stood Luke Skywalker.

The hallway he was in was quiet, with only the slight buzzing and beeps of the droids outside. Along the walls of the chambers were Jedi artifacts, gathered across years of searching. Luke moved from shelf to shelf, letting his gaze fall on them, each one pulsing gently in the Force. On one shelf was the Jedi compass, its bronze surface shining in the morning light. Luke had discovered that one in the ruins of one of the Emperor’s secret libraries. It was a device that was used to locate force nexuses across the galaxy. Next to it, were different types of Jedi holocrons, some rectangular and some pyramid shaped. Some of them even bore the symbol of the High council. Luke admired the patterns of a round circular one, and activated it with a flick of the Force.

A  hologram emerged of Master Luminara Unduli. Her posture and words were calm and smooth.  A Jedi’s life is service. We serve the Republic. But most importantly, we serve the  Force. Peace is our armor. Compassion, our blade. Luke watched her image fade. On another shelf were lightsabers of every form and age. Some had hilts made of leather-wrapped wood, others were polished durasteel. A few were rusted, their crystals long dead. In the center of the display, mounted, sat the sabers of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Master Yoda. Their presence lingered within them, even if only in memory.

Beside the sabers were aged Jedi texts lined on a bookshelf. Luke spent so much time reading and analyzing them that he’d memorized entire passages. Some of the texts described lightsaber forms, from Shii-Cho to Soresu, complete with even hand drawn diagrams. Others were historical records or spiritual meditations. One text in particular was always open. The Jedi Code, in its oldest known form, pre-Ruusan.

There is no emotion, there is peace.
There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.
There is no passion, there is serenity.
There is no chaos, there is harmony.
There is no death, there is the Force.

This code was the core of the Jedi Order. It was what he needed to make sure he practiced and turned to when he doubted himself. And he doubted himself often. If I’m going to rebuild the Jedi Order… I have to understand it. All of it. Or else how can I teach what I don’t know myself? 

But despite his growing knowledge, despite the texts, the relics, the meditations, something still weighed on him.

His gaze drifted towards a shelf in the far corner. There resting alone, was a long, weathered dual blade lightsaber hilt. Its casing was burned, pitted with scoring marks. But what separated it from the rest of the artifacts wasn't the fact that it was the only thing on that shelf, but its force. Its Kyber crystal was clearly soaked in a different type of energy. An energy not made by a Jedi. But rather a Sith. 

Looking at it always gave Luke pause. He knew what he had to do. By creating a Jedi school, he would be honoring his master's by saving and teaching the next generation of students. And by following the teaching methods of the Old Jedi Order, he would be honoring those that sacrificed their lives to bring peace to the galaxy and to the force. 

But if that was the case, he thought as he looked at the lightsaber in front of him, why did people still fall to the dark side? No matter what was done, even in the Old Order, the dark always lingered. He thought about his father. If his father had truly followed the rules, never fell in love with his mother, would he have truly never fallen? Will detachment truly fend off the dark, or no matter where the light shines, will the shadow always be lurking? 

Luke didn’t reach for the lightsaber. He never did. But he remembered the moment he came into possession of it. The man who once wielded it had taught Luke something no Jedi text ever had. The dark side isn’t what you think it is. It’s not death or evil. It’s pain. And pain... can be shaped.

A soft beep broke his thoughts. R2-D2 had rolled into the chamber, chirping at him impatiently.

Luke glanced at the droid and smiled faintly. “Yeah, I know, R2. I just like to remind myself why we’re doing this.”

R2 beeped again, more insistently.

Luke laughed softly. “Alright, alright. I’ll go see her. Force knows she doesn’t appreciate tardiness.”

He turned to leave—but not before casting one last look at the saber on the shelf. Just follow the teachings. Follow the past. Maybe then it’ll all work out.

He stepped into the courtyard, bathed in the golden morning light. The Uneti tree, grown from what remained of the Great Tree from the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, stood at the center of the courtyard. Despite it being only a few years old, its leaves rustled gently in the wind, and the Force around them hummed with calm, old life. It’ll become quite the sight once it reaches its full size and maturity, Luke thought.

The temple grounds were beautiful, even half-finished. Stone paths curled through the grass like veins, and each dome was placed with intention. Someday, when it was complete, this place would rival even the great temples of old. But already it felt alive.

Near the outer entrance came Leia her arms crossed and a knowing smile on her face. Beside her, a boy with tousled black hair and curious eyes tugged at her sleeve.

“Uncle!” Ben shouted, racing toward him.

“Ben!” Luke grinned, kneeling to scoop him into a hug.  “Can I go look around?” he asked, turning to his mother.

Leia hesitated. “Alright—but stay away from where the droids are working, alright?”

Ben was already darting off before she finished. R2 followed dutifully, like a metal nanny.

Luke and Leia were left alone.

“Quite the school this is turning out to be,” Leia said as they walked.

Luke nodded, glancing around. “It’s coming together.” He told her about the plans, the layout, the Three Pillars he intended to teach—The Force, Knowledge, and Self-Discipline. He spoke of introducing Shii-Cho, the oldest and most basic lightsaber form which focused on control, disarming, not violence. And then meditation. Always meditation.

Leia smiled, amused by his enthusiasm. “You sound like a real teacher already.” Luke gave her a lopsided grin. “Sure, just missing you know… anyone besides my droids who I can teach.”

Leia chuckles, but then her smile falls a bit at that. “Do you really think you can find them? Children like Ben?”

Luke hesitates, "Hopefully, I mean, I can feel them out there. It’s just turning out to be a bigger challenge than I thought.” Leia’s brow furrowed. “Then when you do find them, will you take them from their families? Start them young, like the old Jedi?”

“I…don’t know.” Luke sighs, “Honestly, I'm still figuring that part out. It’s important to stay true to the Jedi code. And if following the Order is what kept the others on the right path, then it might be for the best, if we truly want to learn to use the force for good.”

They walked a bit in silence.

Then Leia stopped. "Luke, there's something important I need you to do." Luke pauses in his walking, "what is it?"

“It's Ben. He's... getting stronger in the force. More than I can handle. Sometimes I… I see things. Visions. They frighten me.”

Concern fills Luke's face. “What? What do you mean, what have you seen?”

Leia shakes her head, “Please, Luke he needs guidance. He needs you. I... need you to take him,” she said quietly. “Train him, even if it means I won’t see him again.”

Luke was stunned. His throat tightened. He wanted to say something but found nothing. Then Ben came bounding back around the corner, covered in dirt and excited to tell his mother all new stuff his seen. " There's a huge garden!". 

Luke smiled at him, but it was distant now.

Later that evening Leia and Ben had gone back to their ship. Leia had some sort of bureaucratic meeting to attend with the New Republic and needed to continue their trip. Luke bid them farewell but not before Leia squeezed his hands in a silent promise for him to think about her request.  

The forest was quieter now. R2 beeped Luke goodnight before rolling into standby mode. Luke stood alone beneath the Uneti tree, its branches rustling gently in the night.

He knelt to meditate. Tried to focus. But his thoughts were everywhere.
Leia’s words echoed in his head. Is this what the Force wants? he wondered. He thought of the other children he’d hoped to find and teach. The ones whispered about in the Force, sparks flickering in the dark. He had scoured ancient ruins, listened to old Jedi texts speak of prophecies and balance, followed intuition across stars.

But all he heard was silence. 

Maybe Leia's right, he thought bitterly. He wanted to believe in a greater purpose. But every year that passed without any signs chipped away at his dream. Ben was here. He was strong. Gifted.  I’ll train Ben. I’ll focus on him first and...I’ll give up the search for now. He exhaled, heavy and defeated.

And then—

A ripple. The Force trembled around him. He could hear a voice, small and distant. Help…

His eyes snapped open.

---


The sky was painted red, and cries echoed throughout the Rift Valley. Mother Talzin stood atop the cliff, her gaze locked onto the scene below. The massacre had begun under the cover of night, with the Nightbrothers attacking with a fury unlike anything seen before. For weeks, tensions had been rising. Whispers of war had spread across Dathomir, and battles were ignited between the Nightsisters and the Nightbrothers.

Conflicts between the Nightsisters and the Nightbrothers were nothing new. While Talzin never concerned herself with the hierarchy imposed upon their people, she was always in support of dismantling the outdated structure. She had long hoped to raise her sons free of such burdens, free of the shackles that had bound their father. However something was different about this war. She could feel it in the way the land itself reacted, in the way the very magick of Dathomir trembled beneath an unnatural force. Something had poisoned their air and people. Talzin clenched her jaw. She had an inkling of who might be behind this.

The Sith Lord could have woven deception easily. Falsified visions, whispered lies. He probably played on old wounds and buried resentments, fanning them into an inferno. And now, the Dathomiri were slaughtering one another under the illusion of an internal uprising, all the while unknowingly carrying out Sidious’s will.

Talzin grip tightened around the infant in her arms. At her side, her six year old trembled silently. Her amulet pulsed against her chest. A warning. A dark hooded figure emerged from the shadows moving toward them. Her blood ran cold. He was here.

The temple behind them was still out of reach. She could feel it, a suffocating presence creeping through the very magick of Dathomir, corrupting and twisting it. Her amulet pulsed with a warning, a sickly glow flashing against her chest. She knew what she had to do. She had lost everything already, her people, her home. But he would not have her child.

She knelt beside the child, her voice urgent but steady. “Take your brother and hide in the caverns beneath the temple.”
The boy hesitated, “But Mother, what about—”

“Go now!” she commanded, forcing the infant into his arms.

Tears welled in the young Zabrack’s eyes, but he obeyed, gripping his baby brother tightly as he ran. Talzin gaze remained fixed on the dark figure approaching. She cannot let this monster leave Dathomir alive.

“Mother Talzin,” Sidious greeted smoothly, “We meet again so soon.”
“I know this is your doing, Sidious,” she spat. “You may fool others with your treachery but I will see it end tonight.” Green mist curled at her feet as she summoned her power, her blade sliding into her palm. Sidious chuckled, his smile condescending. “How peculiar of you to blame me for the downfall of your own kind. What value could possibly be derived from tribal savages?”

Talzin did not waste words. In a blink, she vanished into smoke reappearing behind him with a blade of emerald magick aimed for his heart. Sidious moved as if he had foreseen it, his saber igniting in an instant. The weapons met mid air, crackling the air with energy as the two forces collided.
“All of this could have been avoided,” Sidious mused, parrying and dodging her strikes with ease. “Had you simply handed over the child from the beginning.”

Talzin snarled, her form dissipating into mist once more, her presence spread like a phantom across the battlefield. The ground beneath them darkened, shadows stretching unnaturally. The air warped, shifting into darkness.
Sidious frowned as he turned his gaze. Voices whispered from every direction in total blackness. Talzin had transported them into a void. A realm of pure magick. “How amusing,” Sidious mused, pivoting on his heel. Talzin’s voice echoed from the shadows. “You will regret coming here.”

Green magick lashed out from all directions, tendrils of energy clawing at the Sith Lord. Sidious twisted, his saber moving like a viper, deflecting each strike as the very air seemed to suffocate around him. He turned slashing through a tendril of magick, only for another to wrap around his wrist. More coiled around his legs.

Sidious closed his eyes, reaching out through the Force. Then, with a flick of his wrists, he unleashed a wave of lightning in all directions. The magick shattered like fragile glass, the darkness peeling away.
Talzin reappeared, panting. Sidious moved first. The Force wrapped around her throat, yanking her forward. She raised her hands, summoning her power in a last desperate attempt. But it was too late.

The crimson saber plunged into her chest. Her breath caught, her magick fading as life drained from her body. The glow of her amulet dimmed. Her fingers twitched, grasping at nothing. Sidious leaned in. “Your son belongs to me now”, he whispered in venomous delight, as he dropped her to the ground.

As her vision darkened, her last gaze on the temple. She whispered a final prayer to the magick surrounding her, for revenge, for her son. To protect him and to remember what he truly is.

Sidious turned his gaze toward the ruins ahead. He could feel the child hidden beneath layers of rock and magick. With a flick of his wrist, the cavern entrance ripped apart, stones shattering as the opening was forced wide.The walls trembled.
Inside, Savage shielded his baby brother, his heart pounding. He felt it before he saw it, the overwhelming presence of pure darkness looming above them. Savage turned, gripping his baby brother close, his body trembling. He had nothing that could stand against a monster like this.

But he lunged anyway.

A roar escaped his throat as he charged. Sidious barely moved, and Savage was wrenched into the air before he could even reach him. The young Nightbrother let out a choked gasp as he was slammed into the cavern wall, bones cracking under the force.

The infant cried, his tiny voice piercing the air. Sidious turned his attention to the infant.
“A pity,” he murmured, lifting the child with the Force. The raw power swirling around him was astonishing. Far more than he imagined.

Savage groaned, barely clinging to consciousness, his vision blurred. He could only watch, helpless, as Sidious turned, carrying his brother away.

He tried to move, to crawl after them, but his limbs would not obey. He could only watch as the village burned, as the sky filled with smoke, as the last remnant of his family was taken from him. The village was gone. The Nightsisters were gone. The Nightbrothers were gone. And Maul—his baby brother—was nowhere to be found.

The underground labyrinths were vast and lonely, their durasteel walls stretching endlessly into the dark. Even with the training droids that drilled him every moment of the day, It was lonely. They never spoke to him as a person, never gave him anything resembling kindness or care. Once, a droid with a brown-colored chassis—had shown him the smallest sliver of concern. It had paused its firing when Maul was injured, hesitated before continuing its attack. Sidious had destroyed it the next day.

The display of power had been swift. A lesson carved into Maul’s very bones: compassion was weakness. He could not afford to care, because caring led to pain. But instincts were difficult to kill, and the boy was still just that. A child, grasping for something, anything, to fill the void. So when he found creatures skittering through the cracks in the walls, he could not resist.

The maintenance droids cleared the tunnels regularly, ensuring they were spotless for Sidious’ rare visits, but they never touched the inner storage rooms. That was where Maul found them, a small nest of horned creatures, no larger than newborn womp rats. Their fur was soft, their movements skittish. He had discovered them by accident, drawn by the faint ripple of fear in the Force.

One of them was trapped. A storage bin had fallen over, pinning one of them beneath its weight. The others huddled around it, scratching and gnawing at the metal in an attempt to free their kin. Something inside Maul stirred at the sight, feeling oddly warm at the loyalty and care the little creatures had for each other. 

For days, he snuck food to them and even shielded them in the Force, making them invisible to the gaze of his Master whenever he was near. They all seemed to have personalities of their own. One of them followed him around, unafraid and even played with him. He played with the others too sometimes, each one a secret piece of him, a defiant fragment of kindness buried in the darkness of his existence. For the first time, he had something to look forward to. Something that was his.
Then one day, Sidious found them.

The Sith Lord’s silhouette filled the entrance of the tunnel, his presence an abyss of cold and suffocating power. Maul’s stomach twisted. He hadn’t been able to hide them. Maul hadn’t prepared for his arrival, it was out of schedule. Usually he was only on planet for his training and Sidious rarely came this deep into the labyrinth, never without reason. Maul didn't know what to do or what to say. Surely he was going to be punished, seeing as attachments were prohibited. He stood there waiting for the intense pain of something, but nothing happened. The creatures, once playful, now cowered in fear, their tiny bodies trembling against the stone floor. Maul felt his blood run ice cold.

Sidious said nothing at first. He merely raised a hand. One by one, the creatures rose into the air. They screamed.
Maul lunged, desperation choking him, but he was too slow. One by one, they crumpled as Sidious closed his fingers into a fist. The air grew thick with the sickening snap of bones, and then a plop, as they fell to the ground. A few still writhed, barely clinging to life, their broken bodies twitching on the ground.

Sidious turned his gaze to Maul. “Kill them.”Maul froze, his heart hammering against his ribs. He could still save them. He could—

Pain.

Lightning seared through his body, igniting every nerve with white-hot agony. He collapsed, convulsing. Sidious’ voice was quiet, almost gentle. “You will kill them.”

Maul’s vision blurred, he could not tell if it was blood or tears clouding his eyes. He could barely breathe, let alone move. But he knew what would happen if he refused. So, with trembling fingers, he obeyed. Sidious stood above him, his voice as sharp as a blade. “You will never be weak again.”

Then the pain came once more. Lightning crawled over his skin, burning, stripping away the last remnants of warmth, of innocence. When it finally stopped, Maul lay gasping, trembling. His body was his own again, but his soul felt hollow.

Sidious regarded him for a long moment before speaking. “Compassion is weakness. Attachments will be used against you. Do you understand?”

Maul did not answer. His throat was raw, his hands curled into fists so tight that his nails dug into his palms, drawing blood.

Sidious’ lips curled, “Good. Now, rise.”

When Maul was thirteen, he was introduced to the pits

The walls were smooth and dark, offering no handholds, no escape. His body ached, bruised from previous lessons. His stomach clenched with hunger, but he had learned that complaining would only bring more punishments. He hated training with droids, their constant firing was merciless. However, whenever Sidious was on planet, he made Maul yearn for a shot from a blaster. Darth Sidious loomed over the pit’s edge, his expression unreadable. "Again," he commanded.
Maul looked up, determination burning in his golden eyes. He leaped, clawing at the smooth walls, his fingers slipping just before reaching the top. He fell back into the darkness, breathless. Sidious watched him, silent, waiting. There was no pity. Only expectation.

"Again," the Sith Lord repeated.

The cycle continued for hours, until Maul could no longer stand. And yet, the lesson was not over. A new sound filled the chamber, a cage door creaking open. From the shadows emerged a creature, its fangs glistening in the dim light. A predator, starved. Its eyes locked on him.

Maul’s fingers curled into fists, fear and anger warring within him. Sidious’s voice cut through the cold air like a blade. "Kill it, or be devoured." The creature lunged and Maul did not hesitate. For the first time, he embraced the rage that had been cultivated within him. And struck.

~

Years later, Darth Maul stands amidst the aftermath of a brutal slaughter. Six Jedi had descended upon him, and six had fallen by his saber. The ground was scorched, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood.

The Padawan lay at his feet, her lifeless eyes staring into the void, a flicker of fear and defiance frozen on her face.
For a moment, something twisted deep within him. Guilt. A foreign, unwelcome feeling clawing at the edges of his consciousness. He told himself it was a weakness, a remnant of a life long erased. And yet, he did not look away.
This was his existence. His purpose. There was no alternative. No escape. No future beyond the carnage.
He inhaled, suppressing the ghosts of doubt before they could fully form. Then, turning from the bodies, he pressed his comm-link."It is done, my master."

Sidious’s voice crackled through the static, smooth and pleased. "Good. Return to me. Your true test begins soon." Maul deactivated his lightsaber, the twin crimson blades vanishing into the darkness.

His path had already been decided.

Chapter Text

Luke meditating from chapter 1 

In the courtyard of the temple, Luke Skywalker stood at the edge of the training circle. His arms were loosely crossed, brow furrowed with concern as he watched Grogu attempt the same exercise for what had to be the tenth time in the past hour.

The child wobbled on a hovering stone slab, arms spread wide for balance. His small feet gripped the surface as it floated three feet above the ground. Five stones hovered in a circular formation before him. They were trying an old Jedi youngling training course designed to strengthen connection to the Force through instinct and balance. In the Order days, children Grogu’s age would leap from stone to stone being guided not by sight or calculation, but by their trust in the Force.

Grogu crouched, his large ears twitching as he gathered his focus, then jumped. His tiny body arced through the air, but the Force didn’t carry him far enough. He missed the edge of the next stone by an inch. He gave a startled squeak, and toppled to the ground face first with a soft thump . Luke winced slightly. Grogu lay there, unmoving, face flat on the ground.

Luke exhaled slowly as he turned away. 

It had been exactly one month since Luke had felt the panicked cry of Grogu in the Force. He had boarded his X-Wing within minutes, guided through hyperspace while tracking the signal to an Imperial cruiser in the outer reaches of the galaxy. The Force guided his every step as he moved through the smoke and fire of battle, cutting down Moff Gideon’s Dark Troopers with swift, measured strikes. And then—at the heart of the chaos—he saw him.

The Mandalorian stood protectively in front of Grogu, blaster raised. And when it was over, when the last trooper had fallen and the corridor had gone still, the Mandalorian removed his helmet to say goodbye to the child.

Luke hadn’t expected that.

Luke also hadn’t expected the Mandalorian to be so …handsome. Striking even. Haunted eyes beneath strong brows, a jawline cut from steel and sorrow, and lips trembling as looked at his child in the eyes for what might be the last time. “Don’t be scared,” he had said, brushing a hand over Grogu’s head. “We’ll meet again.”

Luke had stood silently, caught off guard by how deep the moment was. This Mandalorian's code was to not reveal their face to anyone, yet here he was risking his whole belief because of his love for the child. Luke swallowed hard. Something in his chest twisted as he saw the love in the Mandalorians' eyes. He wondered if this is what it’ll be like with Leia. with Ben. Would she stand at the threshold with pain in her eyes, watching her child go? Would Ben cry for her the same way Grogu had cried for his father?

Would Luke be strong enough to walk away again?

Still, the Jedi Code stood firm in his mind. A Jedi must forgo attachment for training must be done in solitude. This was all for the benefit of the child. So with determination, Luke had reached out to take Grogu. And the Mandalorian had let go. The Jedi Code told him to teach detachment. But how could he teach someone to forget a father like that? How could he ever ask Grogu to unfeel something so real?

Now, months later, Grogu had come with him, but his heart had not. He rarely spoke and barely ate his food. At night, Luke could hear the small sniffles through the Force, the quiet sobs that Grogu thought no one could hear. The pain hadn’t faded. If anything, it had grown deeper and knotted like vines around his little heart.

And Luke… was beginning to see the same pattern echoing through time.

 Luke took a deep breath, “Okay, Grogu, let's take a break for now and we’ll try again later. Sounds good?” 

Grogu had climbed back onto the stone now, wobbling slightly, his shoulders tense. He was just sitting there, small shoulders hunched, ears drooped. He was distracted and distant, staring into the horizon as though waiting for someone who he knew would never arrive.

Luke turned from the courtyard, letting his boots carry him outside the temple. When he reached a high point shaded hill, where he could see the temple courtyard from, he kneeled and closed his eyes. The trees rustled around him, the jungle alive with whispers. He let himself sink into the Force, deeper and deeper, until he found that still place, the space between thought and breath. The space where Jedi spirits lingered. A presence answered swiftly.

“Took you long enough, ” came the voice.

Luke opened his eyes as the shimmering blue form of Obi-Wan Kenobi stepped out from the shadows. The ghost of the Jedi Master folded his arms and gave Luke a bemused half-smile. “I thought I’d have to send Yoda to poke you with his stick.”

Luke huffed, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Nice to see you too, Master. Sorry it’s been a while.” 

Kenobi tilted his head, watching as Grogu fell down again from the starting stone. “Ah no bother, I can see you’ve been keeping busy. Brooding in jungle temples and toddlers face planting off of floating rocks.” He gave Luke a knowing, amused look. “You’ve truly committed to the full teaching experience.”

Luke exhaled a dry laugh, his smile starting to fade a bit with concern. “Then you know why I haven't been able to talk to you much. Grogu is strong in the force but his emotions have been clouding everything. He’s not letting them move through the Force and instead he’s holding them in. He misses the Mandalorian.”

 “Ah yes.” Obi-Wan said with a knowing nod, the corner of his mouth tugging upward.  “The Mandalorian . The handsome Mandalorian, if I remember correctly.”

Luke blinked, heat rising in his cheeks. He’d forgotten how infuriating it was sharing his thoughts with his former master “… You heard that?”

Kenobi smirked. “Luke, I’m dead, not deaf. The Force echoes a little louder on this side.”

Luke groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Master…” Obi-Wan grinned, voice light. “No need to be embarrassed. Mandalorian's are rather striking. Rugged charm, stoic presence—it’s a whole aesthetic really.”

Luke pinched the bridge of his nose, “For the love of the Force, can we please stay on topic?”

 “Alright, alright." Kenobi chuckled, “You were saying?" 

Luke let out a long breath, the weight settling back in his voice “I don’t know what to do. Grogu doesn’t talk, barely eats and can’t even complete the youngling trials. I thought I was doing what was right—what you and Master Yoda would’ve done.”

Kenobi’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer. “We did what we thought was right Luke, but we didn’t always understand the consequences. The Jedi of my time believed emotion was a weakness. We didn't really realize that sometimes our emotions are also where our strength comes from. Compassion, hope. Without them, we’re just wielders of power. Not protectors.”

Luke lowered his eyes. “When I saw the Mandalorian’s face… you could see his love for Grogu. You could feel it in the Force. That connection… it didn’t feel dangerous."

Obi-Wan’s gaze grew distant, almost haunted. “Love that doesn’t turn to fear or control… is a rare thing. And precious. The Order lost sight of that long before the Clone Wars.”

Luke looked up. “Then what do I do? I’m trying to rebuild the Jedi, but I can’t follow the same path if it leads us to the same mistakes.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze softened, looking over the temple. “You do what we could not. You rebuild the Jedi not from stone or scripture, but from understanding. We tried to shape Jedi’s into vessels of control and discipline, but we forgot that the Force is life. And life requires love.”

He paused for a moment, then looked Luke in the eye.

“You didn’t defeat your father with strength or strategy Luke. You didn’t win because you were stronger in the force. You won because you loved him. You saw the good still buried inside Anakin Skywalker when no one else did, not even me. And it was that love… your love… that brought him back to the light.”

Luke blinked, the weight of the words settling in like a long-delayed truth. Obi-Wan continued, voice softer now.

“I thought Anakin was gone. But you proved me wrong. Not through doctrine. Not through the Code. Through connection and compassion. Through love.”

Luke looked out toward the courtyard, where Grogu sat on the stone platform, now quietly meditating with his eyes closed, a soft breeze stirring his robes. Kenobi’s form began to fade into the light once more. “Trust your heart, Luke. It’s what makes you different from the Jedi who came before.”

The ghost slowly faded, leaving Luke standing alone beneath the ancient trees, the wind brushing against his face like a memory. Luke turned back toward the courtyard, something new stirring in his chest. He looked at Grogu with a renewed purpose. He knew what he had to do now.

It was time to see the Mandalorian again.

---

The cave was cold and silent, save for the low crackle of a dying fire in the center surrounded by metal trash. Savage knelt before the figure he had dragged out of the ruins. His hand rested over the amulet that now hung around Maul’s neck, its faint green glow pulsing. The broken metal limbs on Maul’s lower half spasmed randomly, his breath shallow, his eyes closed.

Savage had seen him in his vision. Muttering, screaming and crawling in circles like a caged beast. At first, he hadn’t understood why the amulet had shown him such a hideous, twisted creature, so far from home. 

But then, the amulet had begun to glow. Its energy reached through the vision unraveling the haze that clung to the creature’s form. That’s when Savage felt the presence, warped and chaotic… but somehow familiar . There was a thread in that chaos, one that hummed in resonance with his own. It was the same kind that lived in him. That was when the truth struck him.

The creature wasn’t just a madman. It was his brother. His younger brother Maul. He remembered stumbling backward in disbelief, breath caught in his throat. 

When he finally found him, buried beneath the rubble, Savage’s joy at the reunion quickly turned to horror. Maul was insane and feral. It had taken everything Savage had to restrain him and get the amulet around his neck. But once he did, Maul’s screams stopped and the voices that plagued him fell silent. Now that he was wearing the amulet, he was certain his brother would be alright. 

Maul let out a low growl, his eyes flattering open. His head turned slightly, the firelight catching his sunken face. His voice was raspy and disoriented.

“You… who are you? What do you want from me?”

Savage didn’t flinch. “My name is Savage. Do you remember who you are? Where you came from?”

Maul stared at him like he couldn’t comprehend the words. Savage shifted closer, voice low, rough, but steady.

“I am your brother. You’re blood. You were taken as a child from Dathomir during the civil war of our people. I found you through our mother’s amulet, she had given it to me before she died. It showed me visions of you and told me where to find you.” He tried to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You’re not alone anymore.”

Maul’s face twisted like something sour had hit the back of his throat. He staggered back, panting. "No… not again. This is a trick. Another trick."

" No," Savage said. "It’s real. Feel mother's amulet around you and try to feel her presence. It's the reason why the maddening has stopped. She’s still watching over us.”

Maul stopped for a moment breathing and looked down at the amulet around his neck. He shook his head slowly, in almost childlike confusion. “That’s… that's not right. That’s not what he told me.”

“He?” Savage asked. “My master,” Maul muttered, voice distant. “He said… he said my people gave me away. Sold me.”

Savage clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing. “He lied to you. Our people didn’t sell you. The Nightbrothers were warriors that trained under the witches of Dathomir. Mother Talzin was our mother, a powerful Nightsister who was able to wield Dathomir magick, leading our people. She gave up her life trying to protect you.”

Maul's eyes darted back and forth, like he was trying to run from the thoughts clawing at his mind.. “No… why would he lie to me. There must be a reason…” 

“He used you,” Savage said flatly. “Just like he used our people to murder themselves. Dathomir is gone, Maul. The droids came during the war, after Grievous struck. They slaughtered the Nightsisters and burned it all down.”

It was quiet for a bit. Savage narrowed his eyes, watching his brother with a look that was no longer just caution but concern.

“Maul,” he said, carefully now. “Do you...remember what happened to you? What happened to your legs?”

Maul didn’t look at him. His gaze was distant, sunken, haunted.” What happened?…” he whispered. “Yes… I remember…  I remember the pain. The fall… Kenobi. ” He hissed.

Savage leaned forward confused. “Who is Kenobi?”

Maul’s lips curled back in a snarl, his body tensing with a familiar rage as he tried to stand up on his broken metal spider legs.  “He is the man who ruined me! Cut me in half and left me to rot in the abyss. Because of him, I lost everything. My legs… my power… my place. He is the reason I must have my revenge!”

Savage watched him, letting the words settle. Then, he nodded slowly. “ I see, you’d certainly want revenge on the man who’d cut you in half.” Savage then hesitated, “But… what then?”

Maul blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… what happens after you kill him?” Savage asked, “What will you do? You are welcome to join me, we are gathering many of the scattered Dathomiri that were forced into slavery or scattered across the galaxy. We could build something greater for our people, for our mother's legacy." He tried to smile reassuringly, but Maul started to laugh. Savages smile fell, confused. "What's so funny?" 

Maul snorted bitterly. “You speak of a mother I’ve never met. And of people I have no connection to. I was forged by my master and shaped by his will. I am his legacy.”

Savage’s eyes darkened. “And what legacy is that? One where you're thrown away like garbage the second you fail?”

“You don’t understand,” Maul growled. “I was his apprentice. An apprentice to one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy. Once I correct my mistake and kill Kenobi, I will earn his favor again and take my rightful place by his side.”

Savage crossed his arms, reeling his anger in. “I see, so this great master of yours… where is he now? What kind of master abandons his own ‘legacy’ and leaves them broken and forgotten?”

Maul’s gaze turned icy. “Do not speak of him that way. He does not concern himself with failure.”

“Concern himself?” Savage snapped. “He’s a monster! He murdered your kind! Our mother! And you still talk about crawling back to him like some dog desperate for a bone?!”

Maul’s expression shifted—no longer just anger, but something worse. He rose with mechanical clinks and hisses, towering above Savage, his metal legs stabilizing underneath him. His voice came out eerily calm.  “You know nothing.”

Savage stared back at his brother, his head held high and fists clenched. “Maybe” he said. “But I know what we still have. Dathomir may be ashes, but the blood still runs through us. We can fight for more than just your obsession. We can rebuild what's left of our people. It is what I know our mother would’ve wanted for us. To find each other and rebuild. Together.”

Maul turned away, his eyes focused on something distant—an image in his mind that had never left him. Kenobi. Sidious. Revenge. He was quiet for a long time before finally speaking.

“...Fine,” he muttered. “You help me find new legs, and I’ll help you... rebuild.” Savage looked at him, slowly relaxing and cautiously hopeful. “But when the time comes,” Maul added, voice colder “ When Kenobi dies. I will return to my master.”

Savage’s jaw locked. He looked away. The disappointment churned within, but it was probably the most he was going to get from the man. Savage let out a breath through his nose. “Fine. I’ll take what I can get.”

Chapter Text

Mos Espa’s streets were filled with smoke, bodies and scattered rubble. Blaster fire rang out in every direction, ricocheting off durasteel plating and abandoned speeder hulls. The air reeked of scorched metal, and the iron sting of blood.

The Pyke Syndicate hadn’t just brought reinforcements this time. They’d brought war.

Din ducked behind a collapsed archway, chest heaving beneath the weight of his beskar. His rifle was half-charred and nearly out of charge. Boba was somewhere across the square, rallying what few allies they had left. The Freetown reinforcements had already taken heavy losses. The rancor they’d relied on had been driven into a frenzy, then disappeared.

It wasn’t going well. In fact, it was going worse than he’d expected.

The Pyke Syndicate had unleashed their most terrible weapons yet: two Scorpenek annihilator droids, engines of death from the days of the Clone Wars. Their energy shields were impenetrable. Their blasters tore through stone like paper. And worst of all—they were advancing. 

Din was running out of ideas.

He leaned against the crumbling stone wall, his helmet clinking softly as he tried to slow his breathing. In that quiet moment, with death circling around him, his thoughts turned as they always did to the kid. He couldn’t forget those tiny hands always reaching for his helmet. The warmth of holding him close at night. The way he’d hide behind Din’s leg when he was scared—only to step forward whenever Din was in danger. And the way he looked… when the Jedi took him away. Din had told himself it was the right thing. That the Jedi could protect and train him in ways that he never could. That Grogu was special, and deserved so much more than battlefields and bounty targets. He deserved a home. So why, after all this time… did he still feel like something had been ripped out of him? He missed him. He missed him so much it hurt. There wasn’t a day that passed by that he didn’t wonder how he was. If he was eating or sleeping enough. If he’d forgotten him.  Din had given him away because it was what was best for him. So he didn’t regret that. Not truly. But it still hurt to let go.

A blaster bolt slammed into the stone beside him, exploding shards into his armor. Din rolled out from cover and fired off a final shot at the Scorpenek’s shield. But they were still bouncing off pointlessly. He took out his darksaber and charged. Sparks flew when he swung—white-hot against the blue shimmer of the barrier—but the saber bounced off, barely making a dent. Din gritted his teeth, ducking the incoming fire, but the droid adjusted fast. 

A clawed leg came swinging, catching him across the side. He flew across the plaza, crashing hard into the stone. He slid, dazed, the Darksaber fell from his grip. The Scorpenek advanced, its blaster cannons aimed at him.

He looked up, holding his side and breathing hard. This is it, he thought grimly. This is how it ends. Stars… he wished he could have seen the kid, one last time. Just to know he was safe. Just to say goodbye. Just to say he l—

A sharp hum cut through the battlefield. The cannon fired—but it never hit. A blur of green sliced through the air, intercepting the blast and sending it skyward in a searing arc.

Din blinked through the dust, barely able to process what he was seeing. The droid staggered, its sensors flashing. A dark figure dropped from above, cloak billowing and green lightsaber spinning in a perfect arc as it landed between Din and the droid. The blade swung—one clean strike—and the droid’s canon arm was severed in a burst of sparks.

The Scorpenek reeled, recalibrating and trying to lock on again. Din stared, breath caught in his throat.

It couldn’t be him.

But there he was.

The Jedi.

“Move!” The Jedi shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. He spun his saber, deflecting another cannon blast straight back into the rooftops above.

Din snapped out of his daze, staggering to his feet, and grabbed the Darksaber. The Jedi was already moving again—fluid and lethal, striking with precision. He leapt onto the droid’s back, saber driving between armor plating and carving through exposed joints and conduits.

The Scorpenek twisted wildly, firing in every direction, but the Jedi moved faster—dodging and  deflecting. “Go for the joint!” The Jedi called out. Din didn’t hesitate. Together, they converged Luke cutting through the emitter core, Din slamming the Darksaber into the now-flickering shield generator. The machine groaned, staggered, then collapsed in a heap of sparking wreckage.

But they weren’t done. Blaster fire erupted again from the rooftops and alleyways. The Pykes had regrouped. The Mandalorian and the Jedi stood back to back, moving as one. Blasters and lightsaber. By the time the dust settled and the final Pyke fell to the dirt, the street had gone eerily still. Luke lowered his saber. The blade hissed as it extinguished.

Din turned toward him, armor scorched, cape torn, visor cracked.“…You,” he said, his voice soft beneath the modulator. Then, panic set in. “Wait—what happened? Is the kid—? Is Grogu alright?”

The Jedi looked at him calmly and offered a small, knowing smile. But before he could say anything, Din heard it.

A soft, familiar coo.

There—peeking from the satchel slung over the Jedi’s shoulder—were wide dark eyes, long ears, and tiny fingers gripping the fabric. Grogu.

Din froze. Breath caught. Grogu cooed excitedly, bouncing slightly. Then—he leapt. Din barely had time to open his arms before the little one landed in them, clutching onto his chest plate like he’d never let go again. Din held him tight.

“…Hey. Hey, buddy,” he murmured, voice cracking behind the helmet. Grogu buried his face into the crook of Din’s neck and let out a soft hum, content. Luke stepped back to give them space, saying nothing. The world was still burning around them. The battle wasn’t over. But at that moment, nothing else mattered.

Din held the kid again.

And this time, he wasn’t going to let go so easily.

Luke watched as Grogu clung to the Mandalorian's chest plate like he had never left it—like the months apart had been just seconds and their bond had never been broken.

Any doubt that lingered in Luke, any flicker of uncertainty he had about coming here, vanished the moment Grogu buried his face in the Mandalorians armor and hummed with relief. But a feeling of dread also overcame Luke when he saw the Mandalorian looking straight down the barrel of the Droid. Luke had almost been too late. He could still feel the aftermath in the Force—the flash of fear when the man thought he was going to die. If he had arrived seconds later…No. He didn’t want to imagine that. Grogu was safe, the Mandalorian was alive and the Force had guided him here just in time.

Around them, Mos Espa was smoldered in chaos. The Mandalorian whispered something to Grogu—Luke couldn’t hear it—but the child responded with a delighted chirp and nuzzled closer.

Then, slowly, the Mandalorian looked up. His voice cracked under the weight of emotion, even through the helmet. “Why are you here?”

Luke hesitated. How could he explain it? That he had been questioning everything about the Jedi path and the nature of love and loss? That he had realized—at last—that maybe Grogu was meant to walk a different kind of path ? He opened his mouth. But before he could speak, the hiss of blaster bolts cut through the stillness.

“Down!” Luke shouted, pulling the Mandalorian by the shoulder and igniting his saber just in time to deflect a bolt aimed straight at them. More Pyke reinforcements. Luke reached out with the Force and shoved a trio of them back behind cover. The Mandalorian grabbed Grogu and ran, blaster at the ready. They didn’t have time to fight head on again—not now.

“Follow me!” The Mandalorian barked, glancing over his shoulder. Luke fell in beside him as they sprinted down a rubble strewn alley, their boots pounding on the cracked duracrete. The smoke thickened around them, the stench of ozone and fire choking the air. The Force warned Luke of shifting danger—Pykes regrouping, civilians hiding in fear, distant cries for help. They cut through side streets and finally reached a crumbling compound near the city’s inner ring. The structure had clearly taken a beating, its archways cracked, one tower half collapsed.

As they stepped into the open courtyard, Luke slowed. He felt something. Luke turned just in time to see Boba Fett emerge from behind a pillar, blaster drawn and aimed directly at his head. The glint of his T-visored helmet caught the light as he stepped forward, silent and dangerous. Next to him, Fennec emerged, her blaster pistol ready, her expression sharp.

“I know that face,” Boba growled. “Skywalker.”

Luke didn’t move but his lightsaber remained lit in his hand. The Mandalorian stepped forward, quickly raising a hand. “Woah wait—Boba, he’s not an enemy. His on our side.”

Boba’s helmet roughly turned towards him. “You brought him here? Are you insane?”

“He saved my life.” The Mandalorian said firmly. “He helped take down a Scorpenek and protected Grogu.”

Grogu peered up and let out a cautious coo. Boba didn’t lower his weapon. “You expect me to believe this isn’t a trick? Last time I saw this Jedi, I was tossed into a Sarlacc pit.”

Luke’s expression remained calm but annoyed. “Funny. I could’ve sworn you were the one trying to toss me in.” Boba’s grip on his rifle tightened. “Keep talking, Jedi. Maybe you’ll convince me to finish what Jabba started.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “Look, that wasn’t personal. You were serving a tyrant and I was saving my friends.”

Boba didn’t lower his blaster. The Mandalorian stepped forward, placing himself firmly between the two. “Listen,” he said, calmly but firmly. “We don’t have time for old grudges. I trust him, and if you trust me Boba, that should be enough.”

“It’s not ,” Boba snapped back, fingers flexing on the trigger. “Not when you drop the Rebellion's golden boy into my city in the middle of a kriffing war without warning.”

The Mandalorian slowly reached for his blaster and raised it—aiming at Boba. Grogu let out a soft whimper. Fennec shifted instantly, pointing her pistol at him. “Don’t.”

“I don’t want this,” The Mandalorian said. “But I can’t let you shoot him.”

The air was tense. 

Luke didn’t move. His eyes remained closed for a moment… then opened, feeling the ripple of danger approaching. Luke felt it cresting just beneath the surface like a wave ready to break. Suddenly, from the rooftops above and the alley behind them, dozens of Pyke enforcers emerged blasters raised, feet pounding across stone. A trap. They were surrounded. Fennec spun, pistol raised. “Company!” Boba’s visor flicked up toward the rooftops. “Kriff.”

The courtyard lit up with blaster fire. Luke moved first—his saber moving in a hiss of green light, casting a glow across the smoke and rubble. He spun toward the rooftop gunners, deflecting a volley of bolts back into their origin points with precision. One Pyke dropped. Then another. The Mandalorian crouched, shielding Grogu as he fired across the courtyard.

Boba unleashed a volley of mini-rockets into the alleyway to their right. Fennec ducked into cover and picked off a sniper with a clean headshot. “Guess we’re doing this the messy way.” Luke leapt—an elegant Force-assisted arc—landing near Boba with a shockwave that knocked two Pykes off balance. His saber flashed once, then twice—cutting through blaster rifles and slicing into their lines with disarming control. He didn’t kill unless he had to—but he moved with intent . No hesitation.

Boba glanced at him mid-battle, and Luke felt his surprise through the force.The Mandalorian and Fennec pushed forward, forcing the Pykes into retreat. A few tried to rally near a speeder, but Luke lifted a hand and crushed the weapon's repulsors with a subtle motion, dropping it with a mechanical whine.

Grogu, still nestled in Mandalorians arms, reached out with a small hand and pulled a fallen blaster away from one Pyke’s grip using the Force. The weapon clattered into a wall harmlessly. The last two Pykes saw the tide had turned—and ran.

The courtyard went quiet again. Luke stood in the center, his saber still lit, steam rising from the scorched ground around him. Luke extinguished the saber as he turned toward Boba. “I didn’t come here to fight.  I came to return something precious to someone who never should’ve lost him.” he then paused. “... and  I won’t stand by while people die.”

A long silence hung in the air. Then, finally, Boba lowered his weapon. "Then that makes two of us.” But then he stepped forward. “But this doesn’t mean I trust you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Luke said. Satisfied, Boba then turned towards the Mandalorian—blaster now holstered, but his voice still cold.

“You know,” he said, slowly, “not many people live long after aiming a blaster at me.”

Din flinched “...Didn’t leave me with much of a choice.” There was another pause. Then Boba gave a faint, begrudging nod. “Fair enough.” Din exhaled, tension easing from his frame.

Fennec rolled her eyes. “ What nice bonding moments. I’d cry if we weren’t still neck-deep in syndicate fire. Maybe save the trust issues for after we deal with the people still trying to kill us?”

During this, Luke stepped closer, giving Din a subtle, sidelong glance. For a moment, their eyes met. Luke gave a small nod—one of quiet gratitude, and maybe a little surprise. He hadn’t expected the Mandalorian to step in to defend him like that. And though he suspected it was probably because he didn't want Grogu’s teacher to get hurt, Luke still felt the kind and caring intent behind the gesture. Din returned the nod without a word.

Boba turned and headed back toward the front of the compound, "If you're really here to help, Skywalker… then follow me.”

Luke’s lips twitched slightly. “Let’s end this.”

By the time the sun began to fall low over the rooftops of Mos Espa, it was over. Smoke curled into the orange sky as the streets were quiet once again. Luke stood on the steps of a half ruined building, his robes torn and face streaked with soot. He looked down toward the plaza, where Din cradled Grogu and spoke quietly with Boba. The Jedi exhaled slowly.

The Force had gone quiet now—no longer screaming with pain and fear, but resting. Luke let out a slow breath and looked down the ruined avenue. From between shattered walls and sunken doors, families had begun to emerge, hesitant and frightened. A Rodian couple were holding each other tightly, their small child peeking out from behind their legs with wide black eyes. They stood in the remains of what had once been their home. Now, it was scorched stone and twisted metal. Luke's heart sank.

This shouldn't have happened. They shouldn't have been caught in this. How many people had died in this town—families who never chose this fight? How many lost their homes? Their loved ones? His fingers curled unconsciously at his side. The Jedi were supposed to protect life, but… it always ending in fire and rubble.

“Hey.”

The voice pulled him gently out of his thoughts. He turned. Din stood a few feet away, Grogu nestled against his chest in a soft sling of fabric. The child was dozing lightly, little ears twitching at the sound of Luke’s breath.

“You alright?” Din asked.

Luke managed a nod. “We survived.”

“Yeah,” Din  glanced back at the square. “Barely.”

There was a pause—neither of them quite knowing what to say next.

“I, uh…” Din shifted his weight slightly. “I wanted to thank you.” Luke looked back at him. “For what you did,” Din continued. “For saving us and letting me see the kid again.” Luke’s eyes dropped to Grogu, his expression growing warmer, touched by something quiet and protective.

“How could I not?” he said softly. “He missed you more than words could carry.”

Din exhaled through his helmet. “Still. Thank you.”

Luke nodded once. “You’re welcome.”

Another pause but then Din tilted his head, looking at the Jedi as his tone growing more curious. “Why… are you here? I mean, really. You could’ve sent a message and I probably would have come right away. You didn’t have to bring him here.”

Luke smiled, a little sheepishly now, and rubbing the back of his head.

“I uh… didn’t really know about the battle,”  he admitted embarrassingly. “If I had, I definitely would have planned this out better.” He looked back up, the golden sunset catching on the edge of his eyes. “But to be honest, I didn’t just come here so that he could just see you. I came to return him to you.”

Din blinked behind his helmet . “...What?”

Luke sighed and stepped closer now, voice quieter and carefully choosing his words.

“He’s been struggling with his training and with managing his feelings. He missed you a lot while he was with me.” Luke’s gaze flicked down to Grogu, cuddled against Din’s chest. “He tried so hard to be present with me but his heart was always somewhere else.”

“The way I was taught the Jedi Code, it doesn’t work for him. I thought by teaching him through detachment and isolation, I was doing what was best for him.” 

He then looked towards the ruins around them with a pensive distant look. “But I realized the old ways won’t help someone like him.” He paused and looked at the Mandalorian.  “He needs something else to truly harness the force. He needs you.”

Din’s shoulders stiffened at that. He barely breathed for a moment. His grip on Grogu shifted ever so slightly.

“…So,” he said slowly, “you’re saying I ruined it.”

Luke blinked. “What? No—” But Din continued, voice lower now, carrying the weight of weeks of guilt.

“If I have to stay away from him again so that he can…forget his attachment to me… I’ll do it. I’ll walk away. I’ll disappear if it means you’ll keep training him. I’ll do anything.” He looked down at Grogu, sleeping peacefully against his chest. “He's special, but he needs your kind to teach him your ways. So please. Don’t…give up on him.”

There was a beat. And then the Jedi let out a soft quiet laugh. It was gentle, and warm, almost in disbelief. And to Din—who was surprised by it— found it irritatingly cute.

That laugh had no business being that soft. That warm like sun through fog or caf on a cold morning. And from him , no less—a Jedi in dark robes who moved like smoke and had carved through a Scorpenek droid like it was nothing. A Jedi whose face looked like it had been carved from some serene ancient statue until he smiled like that and made Din’s stomach flip in a way that was absolutely not helpful right now.

Din shifted his weight, annoyed at the heat rising in his neck under all the armor.

“…Did I say something funny?” he muttered stiffly, trying to inject more edge into the words than he felt.

Luke took a breath, still smiling faintly. There was something behind his eyes now—a look of quiet admiration. Because force help him, the Mandalorian was so serious. So ready to sacrifice everything for someone he loved. It was inspiring and beautiful, even. But stars… was he also a little dense. Luke shook his head, still smiling. “No. No, just…” he looked down at Grogu’s sleeping form. “Your Mandalorian doesn't really get it, does he?”

Din grumbled under his breath, adjusting Grogu’s position like that might help center him again. “Get what?”

“I didn’t come here to stop his training,” Luke said. “I came here to continue it with you.”

Din froze. It took a full second before the words even registered. Then another to believe it. “…What?” 

Luke’s smile widened, the corners of his mouth curling with a kind of joy that hadn’t touched him in weeks. “He needs both sides of himself to grow. The Jedi... and you. I realized you're a part of him, and I was wrong to make him choose.”

Din was silent for a long moment. Then quietly he asked. “Wait—so… you want me to… come with you?” Luke tilted his head, his tone playful. “Unless you’ve got somewhere better to be.” Din looked down at the child in his arms. Grogu stirred in his sleep, mumbling something unintelligible, and curled closer. A quiet, fragile warmth bloomed in Din’s chest.

“…Yeah,” he said finally, voice thick. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Luke watched him quietly for a moment, sensing the sincerity behind the words. He hadn’t expected this. Not the Mandalorian’s humility or his depth of love for the kid. And definitely not the way his voice softened when he talked about Grogu. Luke had fought in wars, faced down emperors, stood before Sith Lords and dark prophecies. But this—this quiet devotion, this willingness to give everything for the sake of someone small and innocent—this was real strength.

“It’s settled then,” Luke said. “Meet me on Yavin 4. There’s a temple there secluded in the forests where I’ve been teaching him. We’ve been building something new for kids like him.”

Din nodded slowly. “I’ll be there.” They stood together in silence for a few long seconds. The sky had turned gold and crimson by now, the sun’s last rays painting the ruined streets in a kind of strange, melancholy beauty.

Then Din rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Can I uh… ask you one last thing?” he said.

Luke glanced over, curious. “Sure.” Din cleared his throat. “I don’t even know your name.”

Luke blinked. “…You’re kidding.”

Din gave a small shrug. “No one ever told me. It’s always just been ‘the Jedi’ or ‘Skywalker.’ Honestly, I figured it was classified or something.” Luke stared at him for a beat.

And then he really laughed. Not a chuckle this time. A real laugh— completely unfiltered. He actually had to look away for a second, shaking his head in disbelief. “You thought my name was classified?” Luke repeated, his voice still tinged with laughter. Luke couldn't land on a planet without someone shoving a data pad in his face for an autograph or asking to name their kid after him. There’s even a holo-drama that completely butchers his life story. Yet somehow, this Mandalorian made it through the fall of the Empire and half the galaxy without hearing about him?”

Din shifted slightly again, clearly confused at the reaction. “Well I mean… people say your last name like it's some kind of legend. I just figured…” He trailed off awkwardly, then muttered, “…Is it not?”

Stars. He’s cute. Luke cleared his throat, managing to keep his smile. He’s battle-worn. He’s covered in soot and blood. He should not be cute. And yet. He extended his hand, forcing himself to focus. “Luke. Luke Skywalker.”

Din looked down at the offered hand for a second and then took it with a firm, solid grip.

“…Din Djarin.”

They both stood there, dusty, battle-worn, bruised—and maybe, for the first time in a long time, excited for what's to come. 

Grogu snored softly between them.

---

The stars outside the viewport stretched into white-blue streaks as Savage looked over the panel in the pilot’s chair, his fingers still hovering over the hyperspace lever. The familiar hum of his ship’s systems faded into a low, constant vibration. Behind him, Maul sat at the secondary control panel, hunched forward, his newly forged legs whirring faintly as they adjusted beneath him. The plating was mismatched, the joints exposed in places, but they were functional.

He hadn't spoken much since leaving the surface of Zydros Prime, the backwater planet where they’d found a willing cybernetic specialist in a forgotten underground den. The process had been painful—unrelentingly so—and yet Maul hadn’t made a sound. Not during the repairs and not after.

Savage glanced back over his shoulder. “How do they feel?”

Maul shifted, testing the weight of the limbs, his expression unreadable. “There’s a delay at times,” he said, “But it doesn’t interfere too much.”

“You’ll grow into them,” Savage said. “The muscle memory will return.” A pause. Maul leaned back slightly in his seat, arms folding across his chest, his gaze still locked on the stars beyond the glass. “We need to act now . The longer we wait, the further Kenobi slips away.” Savage’s brow furrowed, but he said nothing.

Maul’s tone hardened. “ We need to strike and lure him out. The Jedi won’t respond or come out unless he’s provoked.”

Savage’s grip on the flight controls tightened, the motion subtle. “What are you suggesting?”

Maul’s yellow eyes gleam with cold intent. “We find a populated system-something vulnerable. We spill blood and burn their homes. If we leave a mark deep enough, the Council will have to respond. Kenobi’s too sentimental to ignore it, he always comes when the innocent are at risk.”

Savage’s face darkened. He was quiet for a beat… then another. “No,” he said.

Maul narrowed his eyes. “What?” “I said no,” Savage repeated, firmer this time, not looking up from the panel in front of him. A tension sparked between them—crackling and dangerous.

“You doubt me already?” Maul sat up straighter, tension rising through his frame. “You agreed to help me and swore we’d kill Kenobi.”

“And we will.” Savage replied. “But not like this. Not by murdering people who have nothing to do with him.” Maul growled.

Savage’s voice stayed calm. “You also agreed to help rebuild a new place for our people. Don’t forget that part. This isn’t just about your revenge, but also about Dathomir. We’re not going to waste what little we have on pointless cruelty.”

Maul was furious “You still don’t understand what he took from me!”

“I understand enough to see what your rage is doing to you,” Savage's eyes flashed with restrained anger. “You want to set the galaxy on fire just to draw one man into the flames.”

Mauls jaw clenched, his breath flaring through his nostrils. “Kenobi deserves to suffer.”

“I didn’t say he didn’t,” Savage replied, his voice even now, but unyielding. “But killing civilians? Butchering villages just to send a message? That’s not revenge, that’s cowardice.”

Maul’s fists tightened against the edge of the console. “You presume to lecture me on cowardice?” he sneered. “You, who spent your life groveling in the dirt of a world hiding in the shadows?! You don’t know what it’s like to lose everything !”

“I know what it’s like to have nothing !” Savage shot back, standing up and stepping closer, his yellow eyes locked with Maul’s. “To watch your people and home burn, and be left with nothing but ash.  But I will not become the same kind of monsters who destroyed Dathomir. We do not slaughter innocents. Not for bait and not for vengeance.”

Maul’s lip curled in disgust and anger, leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms. “You’re weak. You don’t have the will to do what must be done.”

Savage remained on his feet, towering over Maul now, though his voice remained calm. “Say whatever you want about my strength but I’m the one who found you. Who carried you out of that pit, who gave you back your legs— your mind . And we made a deal that you need to uphold on your end.” He looks at Maul dead in his eyes.  “If you want to prove your strength so bad then fight like a warrior, not like a man relying on desperate tactics.”

Maul clenched his jaw and looked away. The silence that followed was tense and heavy. Only the faint beeping of the ship’s navigation system filled the cockpit. For the first time since Savage had pulled Maul from the ruins, he didn’t argue. But the rage still burned in him—Savage could feel it. But beneath that something else flickered. Resentment, yes, but also weariness and perhaps… a flicker of doubt

“…Fine,” Maul muttered. “We do it your way. For now.”

Savage exhaled, tension easing slightly. Savage lowered himself back down, watching his brother carefully. “I’ve rallied some of our people,” he said more gently. “Not many. A few scattered warriors, outcasts, survivors. There’s also someone I’ve been in contact with who has connections. We’ll need her if we’re going to build something lasting. They’re all gathered on a quiet Mid Rim world far from the Republic’s eyes.”

Maul glanced at him, suspicious. “Who is this ally of yours?”

“She’s a survivor,” Savage said. “Like us. She knows how the galaxy works.” Maul remained silent, but the wheels behind his eyes were turning. “And Kenobi?” 

Savage paused then said. “When the time comes, we’ll face him together. But not like this. Not as monsters.” Maul didn’t respond. His face was unreadable. He didn’t speak. The fury still simmered in him, but for now he was listening.

Through the viewport of the ship, stars slid past in streaks of light, and the galaxy spun on.

Chapter Text

A week had passed since the battle in Mos Espa. 

Din's days followed a simple rhythm. He rose before the sun, the same way he had when bounty hunting, his internal clock too used to the rhythm of survival and being on the constant move. But there was no urgency now, no beeping trackers or desperate escape plans. Just birdsongs and the quiet hum of droids preparing the temple’s outer gardens. 

After helping Grogu get dressed (which was no small task since the kid decided socks were the enemy) and coaxing him into eating anything besides frogs, Din would sometimes find himself trailing behind Luke and Grogu to the temple courtyard. The courtyard was surrounded by entrances and stone pathways—and in the center—a beautiful large tree where the morning light filtered through layers of green, dancing across the stone pathways like golden mist. Luke would begin Grogu’s training there. Balance drills, levitation exercises, quiet meditations. Din would sit on a smooth stone bench at the edge of the courtyard next to R2, arms crossed, half-fascinated and half-intimidated.

Watching the Force in action, this strange magic, was still something he couldn’t quite wrap his head around. Luke moved like the wind: precise, fluid, centered. And when he was teaching Grogu, he was so calm and mindful of the kid. He would guide and correct Grogu with patience, and encourage him to continue when he’d fail.

And Grogu, for all his goofiness, would fail a lot. The little guy would try to hover three or four stones mid-air while standing on one leg, only to fall over and burst into frustrated, yet adorable, cries. Other times, he’d fall asleep mid-lesson, head drooping in the middle of meditation (though Din couldn't blame him since he too got bored watching). Luke never scolded the kid though. Just smiled and let him rest.

Din would watch sometimes from a distance silently. He didn’t really belong in their world. But it amazed him nonetheless and made his heart swell seeing how much potential the kid had.

When Din wasn't watching them train, he would venture into the jungle, either exploring or training. The jungle itself felt like it was breathing. Wind rustled the trees like an old lullaby, and every day brought sightings of strange creatures, silver-winged birds that shimmered like starlight, lizards that changed colors with each heartbeat, and a bizarre little blue creature with six legs and oversized eyes that had decided, inexplicably, to follow Din and Grogu whenever they entered the jungle. No matter how many times he changed directions, the thing would toddle after him, making curious clicking noises. Grogu loved it.

The kid was also thriving here.

After training, Grogu would always seek Din out, waddling over with eager babbles, excited to show off a new trick or tell him something Din couldn’t understand. It still stung sometimes—not being able to hear the kid’s thoughts the way Luke could. Not knowing what the babbles meant exactly. But the light in Grogu’s smile and eyes, the little hops of joy, the way he nestles into Din’s arms at night, that was enough. That was everything. 

Din couldn’t think of a better place for him to grow up. No bounty hunters. No war. No Imperials breathing down their necks. Just quiet mornings, training, curiosity and exploration. Despite this though, despite the happiness and peace… guilt still festered inside him like rust under durasteel.

Every night, after settling Grogu into bed, wrapped snugly in his blanket, Din would sit next to him in their quarters in silence. His gaze always drifted to the far end of the room, where the darksaber lay in its sealed case.

Even from across the room, it radiated presence. A quiet hum that seemed to murmur and taunt him in the dark, as if it was alive. You carry the blade. That means you carry our future. The Armorer’s voice echoed like a ghost in his mind, cold and unyielding. He hadn’t asked for any of this. He hadn't wanted to lead anyone. He was a bounty hunter, not a king. And still, he bore another weight one the dark saber didn’t give him, but the Creed demanded. He had removed his helmet, broken the code, and shown his face to Grogu. To Luke Skywalker. He has yet to bathe in the Living Waters on Mandalore and redeem himself.

Mandalore was still broken. Its people scattered and its legacy in shambles. And here he was resting on a beautiful Jedi moon, watching frogs leap and a child train in the Force. What kind of Mand’alor was that?

He didn’t speak of it. Not to Grogu. Not even to himself, not out loud. But the shame hung on him like old armor—chafing, heavy, and impossible to remove. He would stare at the saber in the dark, wondering if he was still even qualified to be called a Mandalorian. It was on the sixth evening of his stay that something shifted.

On training days when Luke and Grogu would sit still for hours in meditation, Din would often find himself restless. Stillness, as it turned out, was not one of his talents. He tried to stay occupied doing basic workouts in the courtyard or fixing up his gear under the temple’s stone awnings. Sometimes he’d even start prepping dinner early, keeping his hands busy as a way to quiet his mind. But more often lately, his curiosity got the better of him. This Jedi school, Luke’s new temple was huge. Far larger than he’d expected. With its towering halls and half-sunken chambers, it felt more like a labyrinth than a school.

And so, one quiet afternoon, as Grogu sat cross-legged in the courtyard with his eyes closed (clearly more interested in snoring softly than communing with the Force) Din rose from the bench and slipped away.

He wandered into the east wing halls, boots echoing softly on the stone floor. The architecture here shifted subtly. The stonework was older, rougher in places. Moss threaded through the cracks like veins, and the sconces glowed with a pale golden light, flickering like breath. The air smelled of old paper and incense. It was quiet in a different way than the jungle. 

The hall curved gently until it opened into a circular chamber. And as soon as he stepped inside, Din froze.

Awe welled up in his chest. The room was bathed in gentle light, which filtered down from a domed ceiling lined with star-like carvings that shimmered faintly. Shelves wrapped around the perimeter, each filled with relics: lightsabers, holocrons, carved masks, ancient Jedi robes folded with care, and crystalline fragments sealed in glass containers.

He took a slow step forward.

Some of the lightsabers were pristine, elegant, polished metal reflecting the soft glow of the sconces. Others were battered and blackened, their hilts scorched or split, silent scars of forgotten battles. One saber had a wooden hilt, beautifully carved with symbols Din didn’t recognize—organic and flowing, like tree roots frozen in time.

On one shelf, was a triangular artifact resting as it pulsed faintly, its blue glow like a heartbeat. Din reached toward it but didn’t touch. The energy from it was subtle, but present. Like something alive but sleeping. He heard a soft voice behind him.

“This is a room I wanted to show Grogu when he was ready.”

Luke stood in the doorway, hands clasped behind his back. His robes were simple, as always, but in this room, surrounded by echoes of the past, he looked like a piece of it. A statue come to life. His expression was calm, but there was something in his eyes—wistfulness, maybe.

“Is this your collection?” Din asked.

Luke shook his head while stepping inside, his boots silent against the old stone.

“No, they belong to the old Jedi Order,” he said. “Some, I found myself.” He moved to stand besides him with a kind of sacred ease, fingertips trailing lightly across the artifact.

“This holocron was Master Djems. He was a great Jedi who helped formalize the Djem So fighting style, a variant of Form V. It emphasized strength and quick counterattacks, turning an enemy’s offense against them. Many of the Jedi who survived the Purge did so because of his teachings. And that saber belonged to a Jedi Knight named Rahm Kota. He fought during the Clone Wars.”

Din looked at the items slower this time, and something like reverence crept into his stance. “I didn’t think the Jedi were this… practical,” Din admitted. “I just always thought they were all robes and riddles.”

Luke smiled faintly. “Some were. Some weren’t. Djem definitely wasn’t.”

Dins' eyes scanned the room again. So many relics. Each one preserved and not just stored, but honored, given a special place to rest. His voice dropped. “It’s... kind of amazing. You’ve done so much to preserve their memory and to rebuild something people thought was gone.”

Luke gave a faint smile, but his gaze didn’t linger on Din. He was staring at two lightsabers encased in glass. “Someone had to. The Jedi weren’t perfect, but they tried their best to bring peace to the galaxy. Their legacy deserved more than to be erased.”

Luke then scratched the back of his glove absently. “And besides... I’m the only one who can do it. If I don’t rebuild what they stood for, if I don’t try to keep some of their teachings alive—then the Jedi really are gone. And I can’t let that happen.” Luke stepped forward again, until they stood shoulder to shoulder before the relics. The lights flickered across the glass cases, casting ghost-like glows onto the stone walls.

“That’s why I collect them,” he said softly. “So they don’t just stay stories.”

Din lowered his eyes. That quiet ache in his chest pressed deeper. He didn’t know why the words hit so hard, but they did. Maybe because they echoed too closely to his own recent thoughts. Here was Luke, one man, carrying the weight of an entire fallen Order, and still choosing to honor it. Still choosing to build. While Din could barely look at the darksaber without guilt gnawing at the edges of his heart.

“You’ve done right by them. I don’t know if I can say the same for myself.”

Luke glanced at Din, brow furrowing slightly, not with judgment, but with a kind of quiet insistence. The kind he used when he was trying to see past what someone said and into what they meant . "That’s not true.” His voice was calm, but there was weight behind it. “You protect and care for Grogu. That’s not a small act, Din.”

Din didn’t respond. Luke stepped closer, his voice steady but softer now. “You didn’t need training to do what you did for Grogu. You didn’t need prophecy or a Code to tell you what was right or who you were supposed to be. And that—” Luke paused, searching for the words.

“That’s the kind of legacy I want to build this Order on. Not through fear. But through love, devotion and courage.” Din turned to face him slightly, the tilt of his helmet shifting. He didn’t speak but the tension in his shoulders eased just a little.

Luke smiled faintly, his voice warmer now. “You built a bond with Grogu, and it changed him for the better. So don’t ever think that isn’t enough. Because to someone like Grogu… it’s everything.”

Din stood there in silence, taking that in. The words didn’t feel like flattery. They felt like the truth. Like something he didn’t know he’d needed to hear. “I…” Din started, then stopped. He exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh in disbelief.

“Thank you.” It came out low, rough, and honest. He shifted on his feet, suddenly very aware of the weight in his chest, and of Luke standing too close. It made his skin itch, but not in a bad way. Just... vulnerable. So naturally, he did what he always did when emotions got too close to the surface. He changed the subject.

His gaze drifted over the shelves, and then caught on something—something different. A saber resting on a raised shelf, apart from the others.

It was different. The casing was darker—nearly black—and worn with age. And the crystal inside flickered with a sullen red glow, like an ember refusing to die.

Something about it made his skin crawl.

“That one…” Din said quietly. “It feels different.”

Luke followed his gaze and nodded, his tone sobering.

“That’s a Sith lightsaber.”

“Sith?” Din echoed.

“They were Force users who embraced the dark side,” Luke explained. “They gave in to hatred, fear, obsession. They believed power was all that mattered.” Luke approached the shelf, not quite touching the relic. "That saber belonged to a Sith I met.”

His voice shifted lower, more conflicted. “He was… different. He used the dark side, yes. But he wasn’t driven by conquest. He fought for something he believed in. He was—”

Luke paused, searching for the right word. His gaze dropped, jaw tightening with emotion.

“A hero. In his own way.” Din glanced at him, brow furrowed behind the visor.

“But that’s not why I keep it there,” Luke continued. “ I put it on that shelf to remind me.”

“Remind you of what?” Din asked.

Luke’s voice softened.

“To remind me of that other side of the Force. That not everyone who touches the dark is evil and that some people fall into it trying to do good. They lose themselves in it, forget who they are… like my father did.”

Din was silent, listening intently. “The Force has light and dark in it—just like people do. And sometimes the ones who fall are the same ones who once saved lives.” Luke’s voice came again, quieter.

“That’s why I was afraid for Grogu.”

Din looked up. “Not because he’s emotional, but because he’s powerful. Power without balance can lose its way. Even with the best intentions.”

Din furrowed his brows slightly confused. His thoughts pulled toward the darksaber again, like a stone sinking through water. Din’s voice was quiet. “Then what about mine?”

Luke’s brow rose slightly. “What do you mean?”

Din removed his saber from his satchel with deliberate care.

“The darksaber. Is it like that one? Is it from the dark side?”

Luke didn’t answer right away. He stepped forward, hesitating only a moment before accepting the hilt. The moment he touched it, his expression shifted brows furrowing and mouth tightening slightly. His eyes narrowed and Din could tell something didn’t sit right.

“It’s… strange,” Luke said at last. “It doesn’t resonate with the Force like other sabers. It’s not silent… but it’s not clear either. It resists or…more like absorbs.”

He thumbed the ignition. The black blade hissed into being, casting shadows across the room. The light felt heavy.

“The sabers core… it's… not a Kyber crystal?” Luke murmured, inspecting the weapon. He was first confused but then shifted and became somewhat fascinated observing the dark glow that emitted where the Kyber crystal should've laid. He suddenly looked up at Din “Your armor-it’s beskar, right?”

“Yeah.” Luke’s expression sharpened slightly. “That might explain something. Come with me.” He extinguished the blade and handed it back to Din. He turned toward the hall without another word. Din looked down at the weapon in his hand. Then he followed Luke, footsteps echoing through the sacred silence of the temple.

They walked through a winding hall that opened into a larger chamber. The walls were bare stone, and the ground smoothed and marked by sparring lines. It felt different than the rest of the temple. Less like a sanctum and more like a forge. A place where Jedi can hone their skills.

Luke stepped into the center of the circle and turned. "We’ll spar.” His tone was casual, but there was something keen in his eyes.  "I want to see something. Use your darksaber and try to attack me." 

Din blinked confused. “What?” This came out of nowhere. Luke just stood there, centered and relaxed. He didn’t even ignite his own saber. Din tilted his head slightly, uncertain.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take out your lightsaber?"

There was a flash of mischief in Luke’s eyes. "Why? Afraid you’ll miss if I’m not glowing?"

And there it was, that smile. Din had spent the past week trying not to think too hard about the way the Jedi carried himself. Quiet, still, wise and looking so serene within the peaceful background. But when Luke got into a teasing mode, he was really something else entirely. Confident, yes, but when he teased he did it with this infuriating tilt of his head and a knowing smirk that made Din’s stomach clench in confusing ways.

Stars help him, Din thought. He’s a Jedi and a menace.

“Come on,” Luke said teasingly, still smirking as he took a loose stance. “I promise I’ll go easy on you.”

Din let out a long, weary sigh (more out of disbelief than irritation) and thumbed the ignition. The black blade burst to life with its familiar low hiss, flickering like a crack in the void. He stepped forward, swinging the saber in a somewhat controlled arc, but Luke was already gone.

He moved effortlessly, always just beyond reach. His robes barely stirred as he dodged, gliding across the stone like he weighed nothing. Din swung again, adjusting and trying to predict the movement, but it was like trying to hit a shadow. And of course, he was using the Force. That was the only explanation. No one moved that gracefully.

Din grunted, rotating his shoulder and shifting his grip. But the saber still felt heavy. Every swing dragged like it was resisting him.

He tried again an overhead slash this time, but Luke twirled aside, lifting a hand. Din braced himself expecting to feel a push but... nothing.

No impact. No staggering wind. Nothing.

Luke blinked, clearly confused. He raised his hand again, eyes narrowing in concentration, and tried once more. Still nothing. The Jedi stepped forward, brow furrowed now in something like concern. He reached out with the Force toward Din—and was met with something like a wall. It was more like reaching into a vacuum.

“It’s the beskar,” Luke murmured, eyes wide with realization. “The Force can’t pass through it. It’s like your entire body is shielded. That... explains a lot.”

Din lowered the saber, panting. “Explains what?” Luke took a thoughtful step back. He paced slowly, murmuring more to himself than to Din. “The saber,” he said. “It’s not like other lightsabers, I’ve never seen one made from anything other than Kyber crystals. This darksaber, something’s different. It feels like it absorbs the Force rather than flows with it. And if it’s forged with beskar, or if the crystal inside it is... that would explain why it’s so difficult to wield through the Force.”

Din stared blankly.

“Okay... but what does that mean?”

Luke's eyes sparkled with excitement, completely lost in his own thoughts now.

“Force-inhibiting binders are often forged from beskar,” Luke said quickly, gesturing as his thoughts raced. “The alloy’s unique molecular structure doesn’t just resist lightsaber strikes but interferes with the Force’s resonance itself. Now imagine that principle applied not to a restraint, but to a weapon. The darksaber isn’t forged like traditional lightsabers, which channel a Kyber crystal’s energy in harmony with the Force. This one pushes back. It’s like the blade has... inertia against the Force. It doesn’t respond and it resists control. It’s functioning exactly as it was forged to. To absorb the users connection to the Force.” 

Din was trying his best to follow, but all he could think about was how Luke got like this—passionate, focused, and strangely charming when he was nerding out over Jedi things. His eyes lit up, his hands moved animatedly as he talked, eyebrows furrowing in concentration before raising again as if the next thought had already sparked in his mind. The way his voice softened, reverent and a little breathless, like…

Din immediately shoved that thought down. He exhaled slowly and looked away flustered, trying to ground himself in something solid—his armor, the weight of the darksaber in his hand, anything. But Luke luckily wasn’t watching him, still caught up in that flurry of thought.

Din cleared his throat, finally realizing what Luke was getting at. “Wait... that doesn’t make sense.” His brow furrowed, grounding himself in logic. “I’m not like you or Grogu. I can’t move things with my mind or feel the Force around me. There's no Force for it to suppress in me.”

Luke tilted his head, that familiar thoughtful smile returning. "You don’t have to be Force-sensitive to be part of the Force.” 

He took a step closer. “You are part of it, Din. Everything is. Every tree, every stone, every creature. The Force flows through the galaxy and through all living things, even through those who can’t hear it speak. You don’t need to command it to matter to it.”

Din was quiet. He hadn’t expected that. He was used to being an outsider watching from the perimeter. The Force had always seemed like something distant, a thing for Jedi or sorcerers. Not for people like him.

Suddenly, Luke snapped his fingers, startling Din out of his thoughts.

“Let’s try one more thing!” he said, eyes gleaming with the rush of a new idea.

Din blinked. "Okay?” he said hesitantly.

Luke gestured for him to stand still.

“Don’t move.”

Din froze.

“What are you-?”

Suddenly, a small metal tool box from across the room whizzed through the air and smacked Din directly in the head with a sharp clang .

Din yelped, staggering back and clutching the side of his helmet. “Kriffing- what was that?!”

Luke gasped and rushed over, hands raised.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?! I thought, well, I thought maybe if the Force couldn’t touch you, maybe objects moved by the Force wouldn’t either...but I guess it only blocks the direct energy, not the kinetic force!” He knelt beside Din, genuinely concerned with guilt all over his face. "Are you okay?”

Din nodded but grumbled still rubbing his head. “You could’ve thrown a cushion. Or I don’t know... asked first.”

Luke winced. “That’s fair.” Then he cracked a sheepish unsure smile. “At least we learned something?”

“Yeah,” Din muttered. “We learned you’re dangerous when you get excited.”

They both chuckled low and relieved, an ease between them. Luke helped Din up, and for a moment, they stood next to each other. The air between them held something... tentative. 

And then—

“Ahem.”

They turned to see Leia standing in the archway, arms crossed, brow arched with exquisite precision. She eyed them both, then the proximity, then the darksaber still humming faintly in Din’s hand.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asked dryly.

Din immediately took a step back as Luke cleared his throat. “We were just, uh... testing a theory.”

“Mhm,” Leia said, her smile a little too knowing. "Well, unless your theory involves hurling toolboxes at Mandalorians which frankly, wouldn’t surprise me—I take it you’re going to introduce me?”

“Right of course.” He gestured calmly, voice even but touched with quiet pride. “Leia, this is Din Djarin. He’s the guardian of my first student, Grogu.”

He glanced briefly toward the window, where warm light spilled in. “Grogu’s outside with R2.”

Leia’s expression softened into a small smile. “Yeah, the little cute fella. I saw him earlier, he’s playing with Ben and R2’s doing his best to keep up.” Din tilted his helmet slightly, probably wondering who this Ben person is. Luke just gave a small pleased nod.

Luke then turned to Din with warmth in his voice. “Din, this is my sister, Leia Organa.” He glanced sideways at her." Well, twin sister, technically.”

Din gave a small nod. “Ma'am.” His voice was steady, but there was a slight shift in his posture recognizing the general's name.   

Leia stepped forward slightly, her expression kind. “I’ve actually already heard of  your name before, Mando. Word got around after you handed Gideon over, and while the Senate may not say it out loud, I’ll say it here. Thank you.” She offered him a nod that carried much respect. 

Din didn’t quite know what to say. He shifted slightly, shoulders squaring in silent acknowledgment and a flicker of shyness under the helmet. Luke noticed it and for some reason it made him smile quietly. Like it warmed something small in his chest to see Din act so shyly in front of others.

Leia’s gaze drifted back to Luke, and then her smile sharpened. “So… you left your very important first student outside to have a moment with his very important guardian, did you?”

Luke's smile fell, knowing exactly where she was getting at. He crossed his arms. “Lovely to see you as always Sis.” he says sarcastically. “You didn’t come all this way out just to criticize my teaching skills, did you?”

Leia smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. That familiar shift came over her, the transition from teasing sister to commanding leader. She reached into her belt and produced a slim datachip  holding it out to Luke. “We intercepted a signal.” Her voice was clear now, low and even. “Old Imperial encryption buried deep in a forgotten relay system out in the Outer Rim. The kind of signal they used when they didn’t want anyone to trace them.”

Din’s stance shifted subtle but alert.

Leia continued, “The pattern matches Imperial protocols for bounty hunter contact. If it’s what we think it is, there could be another remnant still out there." She glanced briefly at Din then back to Luke. “I was going to send a team, but with Moff Gideon’s trial coming up resources are stretched thin. We wouldn’t ask unless it was important” Luke took the chip without hesitation. His brow furrowed as he turned it over in his fingers, thumb tracing the etched edge.

“I’ll go and take a look,” he said. But before he could turn away, Din stepped forward. “I’ll come with you.”

Luke looked up at him. “Din—” “You’ll need someone who knows how bounty hunters think.” Din said calmly. “And an extra hand wouldn't hurt.”

Luke’s expression flickered with concern. “I can handle myself.”

“I know you can,” Din replied, his voice even. “But this isn’t just about you. If it’s tied to bounty hunter codes, if there’s any chance they’re still operating… it could lead back to Grogu.”

There was a pause. Luke looked down at the chip again. His shoulders tightened, his jaw working silently. Leia watched the two of them, her gaze moving from Luke to Din, then back again. She didn’t speak until the silence had settled fully. “He’s right.”

Luke turned to her. “I hate to say it,” she added, “but you’re not always the most cautious when you go off alone. Let’s be honest, the last time you went on a mission R2 came back scorched and grumpy.” Luke exhaled, slowly giving in.

Leia softened a little, turning to Din. “Grogu can stay here, he’ll be safe with me and Ben. Besides, they seem to be having fun playing with each other already.

“Playing?” Din echoed. Leia shrugged. “Mostly tree climbing.”

Luke finally looked up from the chip and gave Din a quiet, thoughtful nod. “All right. We’ll go together.” Leia nodded, then as she turned to leave, she let her expression lighten just a touch. “Just try not to get that chip smashed on his head testing another theory, hmm?”

Luke sighed. “That’s going to be your thing now, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” she called back over her shoulder. “I’m your sister.”

As her footsteps disappeared down the corridor, Din glanced at Luke. “So... she does this often?”. Luke rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Only for the last 12 years.”

Din was amused, realizing that teasing must be a Skywalker trait. “She’s not wrong, though. That toolbox hurt. ”

Luke shot him a guilty look but sighed deflatingly. “…You're never going to let it go either, are you?”

Din crossed his arms, smiling fondly. “Not a chance.”

---

They called this a village.

Maul stood at the top of the shuttle ramp, hood drawn low, metal legs settling into the rust-red soil of the Outer Rim world they’d flown to. Jalindi , Savage had called it. Quiet and isolated. Not lush, but not completely dead either, somewhere in between. A planet of soft winds and hard earth.

And somehow, here, their people had made a home.

Stone paths cut across low hills. Smoke curled from metal chimneys. Panels buzzed faintly above adobe dwellings, while laughter echoed in the distance. He spotted children darting between the market stalls, holding sticks like spears. 

Villagers turned to look. They recognized Savage first, calling out his name. Maul watched his brother walk forward head bowed in greeting. Children swarmed him and adults touched his arms, handing him food, clasped his shoulders. Disgusting. They smiled at him like he was the pillar holding the roof above their heads.

Maul followed, a step behind. He kept his pace slow, controlled and measured. The kind of step that reminded people not to get too close. And it worked—eyes followed him now, but the smiles vanished. Parents called children back. Conversations paused mid-breath.

They feared him.

Good.

Maul had no need for their warmth.

He came because he made a deal with Savage. And maybe—because he had nowhere else to go. For now he thought.

The village was more than he expected. Paths carved into red orange soil. Lights flickering from rooftops, powered by scraps, faith, and tenacity. Dozens of them. Zabraks and Dathomiri, laughing and living.Weak , Maul thought, eyes narrowing.

They walked a little farther through the winding trails. Past a forge, a training ring, rows of hand-carved totems tied with magickal string. Eventually they reached a quieter courtyard on the village’s edge—half-sunken into the hill, with stone walls marked in ancient Nightsister glyphs. Savage’s meeting space, clearly. Personal and private.

A door slid open from the adjoining hut, and a tall pale night sister in red robes stepped out. Her dark hair was tied back beneath a crimson scarf. Her walk was slow but balanced—each step grounded. At her side was a tiny girl, clinging to her leg with wide eyes and a carved feather charm clutched in her hand.

The child squeaked when she saw Savage and immediately darted forward. He dropped to one knee with a surprising gentleness, catching her in a firm hug.

“Hey, Merrin,” he murmured. “How’s training going?”

“Great! Matari taught me how to make bonefire light without touching it!”

Matari. That must be the woman. Her gaze met Savage’s, tired but kind.

“I told them you’d return before the next moonrise.”

“Ended up taking a detour,” Savage said, voice softening kindly in a way Maul had never heard before.

Maul stayed back, watching. The display was so gross it made his skin itch. 

Matari’s gaze drifted toward him, meeting his own with quiet caution—not fear. There was a gentleness to it Maul couldn’t stand seeing.

“You must be Maul.”

He said nothing.

“I’m Matari,” she continued, not phased by his silence. “This is Merrin.”

The little girl blinked up at him, just realizing he was there. She then ran back behind Matari, peeking from behind her robes. Her expression flickered between awe and caution, and when he didn’t respond, she ducked back behind the folds of cloth.

Matari simply bowed her head. “Welcome.”

Maul’s brow twitched. He didn’t return the gesture. Savage sighed faintly beside him just enough to be noticed. Then he turned to Matari, his voice more relaxed. “Where are the others? Did they return from the relay mission?”

Before she could answer, a woman’s voice cut across the square like a vibroblade. “Your reputation precedes you.”

Maul turned.

A weathered Zabrak woman leaned against a support beam inside, one green eye and one cybernetic, her arms crossed over her chest. She was built like a soldier, yet harbored long locks braided past her shoulders. 

“You’re lucky your brother speaks for you,” she continued. “Otherwise I’d be aiming this at your chest.”

She tapped the blaster on her thigh.

He gave her a look—half-bored, half-daring. “Is that supposed to intimidate me?”

“No,” she replied dryly. “It’s just honesty.”

“Sugi,” Savage said, walking forward. “Still blunt, I see.”

She scowled at him. “Still dragging trouble home?”

“How’d the mission go?”

“We confirmed the depot’s still active with some muscle but not much security."

“Good,” Savage said. “We’ll talk more inside.”

They stepped into the covered structure, a wide half-open chamber beneath hanging lights and old magick wards. Inside, a man was tightening bolts on a comm relay.

He looked up and rolled his eyes and immediately went back to his work.

“Fantastic,” he muttered, “More trauma in a cloak.”

The Zabrak was large, his mechanic's jacket stained in ten shades of grease. A root stick sat in his mouth, and a datapad blinked weakly on his wrist. His metal gauntlet hissed as he moved.

Maul growled. The man didn’t even look at him.

“Vauren,” Savage said, gesturing. “My brother.”

Vauren chewed. “Heard. Still reserving judgment ‘til he doesn’t murder someone”

Savage gave him a look. “He’s here to help. We made a deal so you don't need to worry.”

Maul remained still. The fire in his chest flared at the half-truth, but he didn't say anything.

Sugi tilted her head. “You sure about that?” “He wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” Savage replied. Vauren snorted but didn’t argue. Then a voice, smooth and sharp, slid from the far shadows.

“So this is your brother?”

A pale figure stepped into view—scarred scalp catching the firelight, leathers creaking with each slow step. She circled with deliberate pace, eyeing him up with a neutral expression on her face. 

Maul glared at her. “And you are?”

She narrowed her eyes. “What, Sidious’s pet doesn’t recognize his fellow rejects?”

“Ventress,” Savage warned.

Maul's jaw tightened. “Who are you to speak of my master?”

“Oh, I’m nobody,” she said, stepping close. “Just another corpse the Sith used. Like you.”

Maul’s fists clenched, rage curling in his throat.

And then came the worst of them all. “Who pissed in his caf.” said a second voice.

Maul turned to see a man emerge behind her, dark skin, dreadlocks, and a saber clipped to his hip.

Maul’s stomach turned.

“You…”

“Yeah, yeah,” The man said with a grin. “You got that Sith radar tingling? Jedi stink, get that a lot.”

“You brought a Jedi here?” Maul turned to Savage, fuming.

“Didn’t think Quinlan was worth mentioning.” Savage said calmly shrugging. “He’s not your Kenobi and he's been a lot of help.”

Quinlan blinked. “Wait, Kenobi ? You’ve got beef with Kenobi?”

Maul ignored him, his eyes locked on Savage. “You brought me here to work with filth Jedi and a failed Sith?”

Ventress cocked her head at him curiously. “Last time I checked I'm not the only failed Sith. You were replaced by Dooku—just as I was cast aside.”

The world stilled.

Maul’s two hearts thudded hard beneath his chest.

“You lie."  He spat at out with so much venom. 

She stepped closer, “Do I?” she said coldly. “Ask your Master. Oh but he stopped calling, didn’t he? They tend to do that.”

Maul pulled out his saber. Quinlan shifted, ready. Sugi’s fingers pulled out her blaster. Vauren tensed, his mechanical gauntlet hissing. And then—

“Enough! ” Savage stepped between them, voice sharp as steel. Maul was so close to just losing it.

“We can’t afford division.” he barked. “We need every one. Our food stores are low, our fuel cells are dying, and the depot we’re targeting won’t raid itself. We don’t have time to throw knives at each other.”

Maul stood frozen, trembling with rage. Savage turned to Ventress next.

“You came to help us. You said so yourself.”

Ventress raised an eyebrow. “Still am,” she said coolly. “But I’m not the one you need to worry about.”

Quinlan spoke next, a light shrug in his shoulders. “I’ll still help too. Long as the little Sithling doesn’t try to turn me into a coat.”

Savage ignored the jab and nodded. “Good.” He glanced over at his brother with a concerned look."Maul?"

Maul said nothing.

His saber was still gripped in his hand—knuckles losing circulation from how tight his grip was—but he didn’t strike. Not yet.

He turned sharply and walked out, his cloak sweeping behind him. No one followed.

Sugi exhaled through her nose, arms crossed. “You really think he'll help out? Or did you just bring a psychotic murderer straight to our doorstep?” she said, her gaze sharp. 

Savage’s jaw clenched for a moment, but he didn’t lash back. "I really believe he won’t betray us." he said, "Not unless we give him a reason to.” It wasn’t spoken with conviction. But it was honest.

The others didn’t answer, but there were exchanged glances. Not agreement but not rejection either. 

Sugi holstered her blaster and walked out. Vauren followed, muttering, “Well, that went about as well as an overheated fusion cell in a rainstorm.”

Quinlan  lingered a little longer, watching Savage with an unreadable expression, wanting to ask him something but decided against it. Ventress gave one last glance toward the door Maul had stormed through, then to Savage.

“He’s going to snap,” she said flatly. “You better hope it’s not in your direction.”

And with that, she left too.

Only Matari remained.

Savage stood alone now in the quiet room. She stepped toward him, voice soft. “Maybe it’ll just take time.” Savage didn’t answer right away. He let out a slow breath and looked at her. “I don’t know if time’s what we have,” he admitted. “But… thank you.”

Matari placed a hand gently on his shoulder.  

Savage gave a small nod, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly beneath her touch. He didn’t pull away.

The room around them was quiet now. The low lamp near the wall cast a soft amber glow across the modest space—stone floors, a round table with old maps and field notes still scattered across it, a rack of weapons near the door, and a cot against the far wall. The walls were carved stone, solid and silent. This was not a space built for comfort. It was built for focus, for necessity.

Matari stepped back, her fingers falling from his arm. Her expression remained calm, but there was something behind it—something tired and knowing.

“You should rest,” she said gently, picking up Merrin, who was already dozing off. “You’ve done all you can for tonight.”

Savage stared at the ground for a moment. Then he looked toward the closed door Maul had stormed through not long ago. His voice was low.

“I thought… once I knew he was alive, if I could bring him back…” A pause. “I didn’t think he’d be like this.”

Matari’s expression softened, but her voice held steady.

“He is back. But help doesn’t always look like what we think it should. And people don’t return the same way they left.”

She shifted Merrin’s weight, her tone quieter now, gentler.

“You’re trying. That’s more than most would risk.”

Matari gave him a faint smile, tired, but sincere, and stepped toward the door.

“You need sleep,” she added, her voice dipping low enough it felt like a secret. “Let tomorrow deal with what tonight couldn't.”

She slipped out, the door closing behind her with a quiet click.

Savage stood alone in the stillness of his home.

The only sound was the soft hum of the converter buried in the wall and the distant creak of the wind against stone. The village had gone still—lights dimmed, boots stilled, no more voices in the night.

Maul wasn’t what Savage hoped for. Not yet. But he was alive. His brother was alive. 

And for now… that had to be enough.

Chapter Text

The night was cold with a chill that crept to the bone. The village had quieted down for the night and the only noises that could be heard were the wild creatures in the dark, and the familiar clank of certain cybernetic legs. Maul stood pacing angrily near a jagged outcropping of stones outside the village near a cliff, his silhouette sharp against the twin moonlights above. The night air hissing around his cybernetic legs as they adjusted with faint mechanical whines.

He seethed. The mockery. The doubt. The patronizing looks from such imbeciles.

That failed Sith woman. That filthy Jedi mutt with his casual grin. And Savage, his so-called brother , dared to lecture him like a child who’d scuffed his boots! Maul’s fingers twitched around the hilt of his saber, aching to ignite and cut down those smirking ghosts that danced in his mind.

This place, these people, were all insects, soft, weak and pathetic, clinging onto scraps of a world that has already died. He should’ve never come here. He should have stolen a ship the moment he landed and flown straight to Kenobi. Let Savage play leader with his pitiful band of survivors. Let the Jedi babysit the witches and plebeians. 

Because Maul didn’t need them. He didn’t need anyone.

If he could just gain more power, build a network of fearful ruthless criminals bound to his will, then he could locate Kenobi faster. That’s all he needed. Kill Kenobi and return to his master—

He stopped pacing. That thought cut through his anger like a sharp blade. Ventress’s words echoed, unbidden. No, that couldn’t be true. A sudden pulse of fear stabbed through his chest. He couldn’t have been replaced. Not after everything. Not after the pain and the sacrifice he had gone through for him. His whole life was forged by Sidious, his existence and purpose was to be by his side. He was his creation, forged by the darkness since he was a child. He was the plan. His agony couldn't have been for nothing. 

Unless…

Unless he had failed so completely, so pathetically , that his very existence was no longer even worth considering. His mothers amulet around his neck flared softly, its presence trying to soothe him and keep the remnant of insanity at bay. He clenched his fists, trembling. This couldn't be true. This was a test. Yes, another cruel lesson. If he could just prove himself, then Sidious would see. He would remember and Maul would reclaim his rightful place by his master. With or without Savage. He had to. Because the alternative... The alternative meant Maul had no purpose. No identity. No path

And that was worse then— “So much anger, my boy.” came a voice from behind him, soft and amused. Maul stiffened at the voice turning with deliberate venom in his stare.

There, perched atop a low stone, sat an old Zabrak wrapped in layered robes, the cloth lined with bone-thread and faded markings. A tall, curved staff rested against his shoulder, etched with runes too worn to decipher. His horns were cracked and jagged with age, his skin lined with wrinkles showing the weight of his years. His eyes were clouded with the haze of blindness, yet they remained sharp and as if still watching. 

Maul narrowed his gaze at him. My boy? The audacity of this old man. And when had his senses dulled so much that he didn’t notice this fossil sneaking up on him? He sent a glare that would have made a Gundark beast cower. The elder smiled through broken teeth. “I can feel the heat from here. I fear you’ll combust any moment now.”

“Who do you think you are?” Maul hissed. “Most call me Brother Viscus,” he said. “But you’re welcome to call me whatever fits that temper of yours.”

“Leave,” Maul growled, stepping forward. Viscus chuckled softly, entirely unfazed. “Ah, there it is, the charming hospitality of Talzin’s boy that I’ve been hearing about.” He tapped his staff against the stone, dust drifting from the tip. “You have your fathers spirit, and your mother’s temper.”

Maul’s jaw locked, teeth grinding. The elder then shifted slightly, gaze in the direction of the horizon  yet looking nowhere. “Did you know this cliff used to be a ritual ground?” he said, more to the night than to Maul. “The natives of this land would bring initiates here to meditate. Each child would come here alone, with no guides or help. Just their griefs and the stars. They’d speak their pain to the wind, until the storm inside of them broke. When they left, they weren’t healed, but they weren’t alone in their pain anymore.”

Maul rolled his eyes. What was this, the village lunatic spouting bantha shit between naps and meals? He was getting tired of this village’s theatrical nonsense.

Viscus continued smiling, “Of course, now it’s just a good place to brood.” Maul’s lip curled unkindly, “ What do you want old man? Stop trying to pawn off your useless bedtime stories as if they mean anything.” he spat. 

The old man leaned forward, resting against his cane. “Despite the blindness in these old eyes, I can see your hate for everyone and everything in this village. It radiates off of you like a storm nearing the horizon. But why is that so?” 

“I don’t need to explain myself to you.” Maul snarled, turning away. “You're all so weak and deluded, it's pathetic.”

“Then why are you still here?” Maul’s expression flickered, something unreadable twisting beneath the rage.

Viscus rose slowly, joints cracking like dried wood. He approached completely unbothered, staff clacking softly against the ground. “I was like you once,” Viscus said. “A long time ago, I thought myself a master of vengeance and a wielder of true strength. But my vengeance and anger left nothing but graves.” He turned to look at Maul, as if he could see him. “And what use is strength if it can’t protect people from themselves?”

Maul’s voice came low and bitter. “You think you can understand me? Please, spare me any more of your nonsense.” 

Viscus tilted his head, his tone still calm, as if he’s simply stating a fact. “No,” he said slowly. “I could never understand what it’s like to have your existence be shaped by someone else’s hand, only to be discarded once you’ve served your purpose. But I can imagine that leaves scars deeper than any blade could.”

The words sank deep, sharp and sudden. Maul’s saber hissed to life, ignited and aimed at the neck of the man. The red glow lit the old man’s face,  but his eyes remained steady. Maul's teeth bared, the anger finally boiling over. Not because the old man was trying to taunt him, no, but because he hadn’t. He had spoken plainly, too close to the truth. And that made it worse.

The elders' expression was solemn yet calm and accepting. “ You may strike me down, but it will not change reality. Nor will it prove your strength.” The red glow lit the old man’s face in shades of blood. And in that silence… Maul didn’t move. He should . He wanted to slice him down, slice everything, everyone, down and let them rot. But… what point was there to any of it anymore?

The saber sizzled and shut off. Maul turned his back, trembling slightly, fingers clenched. “Do not mistake this for weakness, old man,” he said through his teeth.

No,” Viscus murmured, almost to himself. His voice was heavier now, filled with a sadness that went beyond pity. “Weakness, I do not see.” He tapped his staff against the ground. The sound was gentle. “I see pain. So much pain… that you no longer trust anything that doesn’t hurt.”

A pause. Then, as Viscus turned to leave, he spoke once more. “A fire doesn’t only destroy, Maul. It warms. It guides. It protects. If you ever chose to burn for something real, something true- ”

He smiled faintly, not looking back. “-you might be surprised by who would walk into the dark just to stand beside you.” The old man then disappeared into the night, the steady clack of his staff slowly fading.

Maul stood alone in the quiet space that followed. A crack widened within him, something he once thought unbreakable. For the first time since he was a child, before the pain, before the rage, he wasn’t sure what he was anymore. Not a weapon. Not an apprentice. Not even a monster. Just… lost.

And for the first time, in a very long time, he was afraid.

---

The air on the planet reeked of engine grease.

Din had smelled it through his helmet the moment they landed. Every corner they turned was another rusted pipe venting heat into the street or another flickering sign buzzing above a crumbling doorway. A dozen languages shouted over one another in the market square, vendors hawking salvaged droid parts, stim tabs, and fried creatures on skewers that Din couldn’t even identify (Though if Grogu was here, he's pretty sure the kid would’ve eaten it anyway). Alleyways where smugglers haggled over spice, and workers in patchwork robes darted between food stalls trying to make a living. Din walked steady, moving with the silent confidence of someone not looking for a fight but more than ready to end one.

Next to him, Luke followed at a slight distance. Hood drawn low, the edge of his dark traveler’s robes brushed against his boots as he moved, his steps light. Despite apparently being famous, Luke still decided to dress light and Din, at first, wasn't sure that his cloak was going to be enough to conceal him. Yet despite his concerns, Luke was able to blend into the crowd with ease. There were even moments when Din would turn slightly and he was just… gone .

Well not really gone. Just… out of focus. As if  his presence was blurred when no one was looking. Even standing beside him, Luke’s silhouette would shift just enough in the corner of Din’s vision to feel like he’d vanished. Din frowned beneath the helmet, he should’ve known.

He leaned closer and muttered under his breath, “You’re using your Force magic, aren’t you?” Luke smiled without looking at him, that same annoyingly serene expression he always had when he knew something Din didn’t.

“What do you mean?” he said innocently.

“You’re vanishing,” Din said flatly. “It’s creepy.”

Luke’s smile widened, “I’m not vanishing” he replied. “I’m suppressing my presence.  It’s more like a suggestion to be ignored than actual invisibility.” He paused, then added with a hint of amusement, “ You should try it sometime, seeing as you’re glowing like a credits vault in that armor.” Din huffed under his breath. Show off. 

They then came to a tavern with peeling paint and a broken surveillance drone hanging by a wire from the awning. A rusted sign hung loosely overhead, in a faded alien language. Din stepped in first, the door hissing and closing behind him and Luke with a sluggish wheeze.

The tavern was dim, crowded, and filled with smoke and voices. Twi’leks, Nikto, humans, every kind of drifter, runner, and gun-for-hire filled the booths. Laughter bubbled under sharp conversation, some talking low over buzzing holo-pads and glitching game tables.

Din scanned the room. Some of the patrons noticed him immediately, some were pretending not to. The ship they’d tracked with the one that pinged with Leia’s intercepted signal, had been docked just two levels below their landing pad. The same signature and hidden encryption was masked under layers of old Imperial clearance codes.

Now they just needed to find out who was the one who brought the ship in.

The bartender, a wiry Devaronian, froze just slightly when he saw Din’s armor, then went back to cleaning a glass with a very dirty rag. Luke and Din took a booth in the back. Luke lowered his hood only slightly, keeping his face in shadow as they both scanned the room. Din’s visor shifted subtly, scanning the far end of the tavern, then it locked on.

A man in matte black armor and scuffed helmet sat slouched in a corner booth, angled just enough to keep his back to the wall. His armor was patched in places with scrap metal plating, and a faint smear of dried blood stained the edge of one shoulder plate. He looked like trouble seeing as his right hand never drifted far from the blaster strapped to his thigh.

Din’s HUD blinked. A faint, encrypted signal pulsed from a datapad clipped to the man’s belt. The same coded signature. Luke didn’t speak, but Din could sense the shift in his posture beside him, a quiet confirmation.  

The bounty hunter leaned in toward a pair of patrons at his booth. Words were exchanged, low and sharp. Then, without finishing his drink, he stood. He was heading for the exit. Din and Luke moved from their booth, careful and deliberate. No sudden steps. They weaved through the tavern at a measured pace, letting bodies and smoke veil their pursuit. Din kept one eye on the target, the other on Luke who somehow managed to glide between patrons like water, never drawing a single glance.

But the hunter wasn’t stupid. At the doorway, he paused and tilted his head. just enough to catch his reflection in the mirrored wall behind the bar.His eyes locked briefly on Din’s armor.

Then he moved. Fast. The bounty hunter ran through the exit and Din burst through the exit a second later, just in time to see a shadow vanish down the street. Without missing a beat, Din vaulted over a nearby crate, boots slamming into the pavement as he gave chase.

The hunter sprinted ahead, cutting through a maze of people, slipping between steaming vents and towering freight stacks. Din followed close behind, weaving past startled vendors and a pair of overworked droids hauling crates. He wasn't sure if Luke was still behind him but Din kept going, breathing steadily through his modulator. The bounty hunter took a sharp turn, ducked under a broken security gate that sparked as he passed, and skidded into a dimly lit service alley.

Din reached the corner and just before he was going to lose the hunter, a figure dropped silently from above and blocked the exit of the alley, caging the hunter in.Luke.

The Hunter pulls out his gun, blaster  drawn—

Luke flicks his wrists, the weapon tore from the hunter’s grip and clattered across the ground. Without hesitation, the man drew a vibroblade instead and charged. But Din was faster. He shoots out a restraining wire, coiling instantly around the hunter. The man thrashed hard, snarling, trying to twist free. But the cable locked tight and yanked him off balance, sending him crashing to the ground.

Luke approached, calm but watchful. “Easy,” Luke said, stepping closer. “We’re not here to kill you. We just need to know a few things”

Din stepped forward and crouched, taking the hunters helmet off, voice low and cold. “You picked up a bounty. What was it?”

The bounty hunter glared up at him, face twisted with defiance. Then he spat near Din’s boot.

Luke narrowed his eyes at that, suddenly irritated with the man. He raises his hands as the Force rolled forward. The hunter tensed, jaw grinding. For a moment, it seemed like nothing was happening. Then—

“I was paid to steal a crate,” he muttered. “Drop it off in the canyon tomorrow night. That’s it. I didn't ask any questions.” Luke extends his senses, brushing gently through the man’s surface thoughts.

“He’s not lying,” he said quietly. “Whoever hired him made sure he knew as little as possible. He’s just a runner.”

Din nodded once. Then, without pause, he raised a small stun baton from his belt and jabbed it into the man’s neck. The bounty hunter slumped unconscious in the bindings. Luke then stepped forward beside the unconscious bounty hunter. Without a word, he began taking off some of the man's armor.Din paused.

Luke tugged the armor over his robes, adjusting it to fit his frame. The chest straps stretched just enough to fasten, and while it wasn’t a perfect fit, it worked. He secured the cloak over his shoulders and slid the helmet on with a soft hiss.

He tilted it slightly, checking the visibility through the visor, then clipped the datapad and access key to his belt with practiced ease. Din’s visor tracked him in silence.

Luke looked up. “Well?”

“You’re… putting it on?” Din asked, genuinely confused. Luke rotated one shoulder, testing the weight. “Fits better on me than it would on you. And they’re expecting one runner, not a Mandalorian in full beskar.”

Din frowned. “You’re planning to deliver the package yourself?” Luke removed the helmet again and cocked his head slightly. “Worked before.”

Din opened his mouth to argue, then paused. “Wait, if you’re wearing that, and they're only expecting one runner, what about me?”

Luke glanced at him thoughtfully, his eyes slowly scanning Din from head to toe, clearly sizing him up. Din didn't know how to feel about that, slightly self-conscious but also a little flustered.

And then, he smiled. That subtle, infuriating grin Din was starting to recognize as the oh no, he has another idea kind of smile.

Din stared at him for another second. Then it hit him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

~

A wide, dust-blown platform carved into the rock stretched before them, flanked by jagged cliffs and shadowed stone. The only sign of life was a rusted docking beacon blinking weakly overhead and a freight elevator built into the canyon wall, partially sunken into the earth.

Luke approached the drop point alone, boots moving quietly over the sand as the wind tugged at the edges of his borrowed cloak. The bounty hunter’s helmet concealed his face, but the way he walked, controlled and steady, projected enough confidence to hold up the illusion.

Behind him, a large crate hovered silently on repulsorlifts, its surface gleaming faintly in the light. Inside, Din waited. Cramped between metal framework and a thick lining of weapon parts and engine modules. 

Luke’s plan had been simple. Pose as the bounty hunter delivering a classified crate, smuggle Din inside with a rebreather, figure out what this base was hiding, then get out.

Two guards approached from the lift entrance, weapons slung but eyes alert. Their armor was a mismatched patchwork of faded gray plates and black cloth, mercenary-standard. Faces exposed. They were probably former soldiers of some sort. Hired muscle maybe.

“You the runner?” one barked, stepping forward with a portable scanner already in hand.

Luke said nothing. Just nodded once and extended his arm, letting the scanner ping the ID clipped to his belt.

The device gave a flat beep and lit green. “Delivery matches.”

The second guard motioned toward the crate. “Pop it open.” Luke tensed, but he kept his body language calm. One of the guards stepped forward and hit the outer seal.

 The crate hissed, rising slightly as the lid unlatched.

Inside, the compartment was dark and packed tight with trade-grade foam insulation, mostly concealing the outlines of several military-grade engine cores and weapon components, just as Din and Luke had arranged earlier based on their research. It was too tight to see Din.

But still, Luke felt the edge of his presence. Through the haze of the Force, he reached outward with gentle pressure. A nudge of disinterest, just so the guards don’t look too closely. 

“Standard loadout,” one of the guards muttered, shining a flashlight inside. He let the lid slam shut and re-engaged the lock with a dull clang . The other guard nodded toward the freight lift. “Dock it by the platform. We’ll take it from here.”

Luke didn’t move. “That won’t work,” he said, voice firm beneath the helmet modulator. “Client requires confirmation of physical delivery. In person.”

The guards frowned. Luke reached out again with the Force, slightly stronger this time. Twisting ever so gently around their minds. A simple suggestion: He belongs here. This is routine. No questions needed.

One guard blinked, uncertain. The other looked back at the datapad.

After a long pause, the second one shrugged. “Whatever. Bring it in and no detours.”

Luke gave a short nod. He guided the crate forward across the threshold as the heavy doors screeched open.

The moment he stepped through, the temperature shifted, suddenly cooler. The corridor was poorly lit. Walls of rock reinforced with metal braces and power lines snaked overhead like veins. Faint flickers of glow-panels pulsed along the floor, barely illuminating the dust in the air.

They entered a narrow access tunnel lined with no security cams and no motion scanners. Just one lone guard leaning against a door, arms crossed.

Perfect.

Luke steered the crate forward. The lone guard looks up, and shouts at him, “Not this way idiot, follow–” But before he can finish, Luke yanks toward him by an unseen pull, grabbing him in a chokehold and knocking him out. After pulling his body to the narrow access tunnel and grabbing his cards, he pops open the latch for Din. 

The lid hissed and slid open. Din sat inside, crouched awkwardly among weapon modules and foam insulation. He looked up at Luke. “How about next time I pose as the hunter.” he said, pulling himself out with a grunt.

Luke winced beneath the helmet, a flicker of guilt passing through him as he glanced at Din still rubbing the side of his neck from the aches. “Sorry,” he said, tone a little more contrite, “I’ll make it up to you.”

Din gave a low chuckle, clearly not upset. “That’s two now, Jedi. I’m keeping a list.”

Luke huffed, shaking his head with a faint smile. They then move quickly. Luke ducked low, while Din followed him through the back corridors toward the central shaft. 

The deeper they went, the more the walls became more uniform, more Imperial . Sterile durasteel plating, faint remnants of old sigils scraped off the corners, sealed blast doors with numeric codes.

Shoddy guards, hidden tech. Imperial structure buried under freelance muscle. There surprisingly were guards, but scattered precariously everywhere, like whatever this base was, hasn't seen action in quite some time, but still guarded like a well kept secret. Odd, Luke thought, could this be a possible remnant of an old empire project of some sorts still doing research?

“Looks like this base doesn’t see much action.” Din muttered.

“Not anymore,” Luke said. “But it's clearly still operating.”

They reached the security room. One guard, he was playing some sort of game on his datapad. Din crept up behind him and knocked him out cold with a single blow to the neck.

Inside, the walls were lined with monitors. Feeds from the lower wings. Storage, hangars, holding cells. Some of the screens showed black test fields with scrolling data. It seemed to line with the idea that this was where they held some sort of research, possibly weapon developments.

Din inserted Leia’s datachip and connected his portable slicer. “Give me five minutes,” he said, already typing. Luke stood by the door, eyes distant. The Force stirred here. Something beneath them, buried deeper, was calling to him in an odd familiar manner.

“Something’s here,” Luke murmured. “I can feel it. Whatever it is… it’s hurt. And…muffled.” He turned to Din. “We have to check it out.”

Din’s shoulders tensed. “ Luke, you said this was recon.”

“ I know.” Luke said, somewhat urgent. “ But I don't think I can leave until I know what this is. The force… it's not usually this loud.”

Din  then tapped one final command. “We’re done uploading everything now.” He shut the console. “ If you think we need to figure it out, then we should. I trust you, but we’ll need to move fast in case things go bad.” 

Luke gave a sharp nod. It surprised him how Din could say something like I trust you so plainly, with no hesitation or need to understand the Force. He just… believed in him. That kind of trust was rare. Rarer than most Jedi would admit. Luke wasn’t even sure what he was about to walk them into, only that whatever was calling out through the Force was hurting. And if Din was willing to follow him into that? Then he owed him much more than he originally thought. 

They slipped back into the hall and turned toward the sublevel shaft, the one wing that hadn’t shown up clearly on the security feed. But before they reached the end of the hall—

“Intruders!” a voice roared.

A siren howled through the corridor as flashing red lights bathed the walls. Din swore. The door ahead exploded open. Six guards rushed through, followed by the heavy footfalls of something larger.

Dark Troopers.

Heavily armored  and  Mark II class by the looks of it. One raised its arm and fired a blast that shattered the wall beside Din’s head. Luke ignited his lightsaber in a flash of green. The glow lit his face, focused and deadly calm. Din ducked under the blaster line and fired back, targeting joints and helmet seams. His rifle screamed with heat.

Luke deflected bolts with effortless precision, cutting through two guards in one sweep and leaping into the fray. One Dark Trooper lunged, Luke dodged, spun, and sliced through its midsection. Another trooper pinned Din against the wall until Luke yanked it away with the Force and threw it through a blast door.

In the chaos, one final wave of guards tried to seal the hallway. Din tossed a thermal detonator just before the door closed.

BOOM. Silence. 

Smoke drifted through while Luke and Din stood side by side, breathing hard. The sublevel entrance loomed ahead and just beyond it, a sealed reinforced vault door lay ahead. They moved towards it, the alarms still blaring loudly. From far, they could hear the approach of more troopers. 

They needed to hurry and be prepared for what was beyond the door. Without pause, Luke plunged the saber into the door’s central seam. The metal shrieked under the heat as he dragged the blade downward, slicing through the locking column in a controlled line. Sparks showered to the floor, scattering across Din’s boots.

With one final twist of his wrist, the last bolt gave way. Luke stepped back, deactivated the saber, and kicked the door hard with the heel of his boot. The vault groaned open, just enough to let in a blast of air. They stepped inside.

And froze.

The room was grey and simple, polished with plastisteel panels lining the walls, floor, and ceiling. There were two bunks on one side of the room with a desk and sink. 

And in the far corner of the room were two children.

One, no older than eight, stood protectively in front of the other, her arms slightly outstretched as if shielding them. Her brown face was flushed with fear and fury, lips pressed into a snarl. Her eyes locked onto them like she was ready to fight if they stepped even an inch closer.

Behind her, a smaller child, barely five, shivered and clung to her back, his eyes wide with tear tracks dried on his cheeks.

Din stares in disbelief.

“…This wasn't weapons research.”

Luke stepped closer, horror in his eyes.

“This is a recruitment facility.”

Chapter Text

It was a disaster. A complete and utter failure. This mission had been their last real shot at real lasting security for the village and they blew it. Savage should have seen the signs. How the tension never left the crew no matter how hard he tried to get them to ease up around each other. They were constantly circling each other's throats like rancors in a pit, and Savage had hoped that necessity would bind them together, at least for this job. He’d even managed to get Maul to promise (like actually promise ) that he’d do his best to ensure the mission went smoothly so they’d focus on finding Kenobi. 

The plan had been solid, at least in theory. A convoy carrying crates of refined grain, medicines, weapon parts, and rare water filtration systems, enough to sustain their village for years, was set to pass through the outer trade roads under Krayth syndicate protection. Sugi intercepted the intel from an old contact and passed it along to them and for once, it seemed like fortune was on their side.

They'd split up: Maul and Savage on overwatch and interference, Quinlan and Ventress infiltrating through the rear of the convoy and Sugi on standby in the ship, ready for extraction. It was supposed to be a quick, in and out before the syndicate knew they were ever there.

But of course he should've known things were going too smoothly. Another syndicate patrol unexpectedly rerouted toward their ship’s position. On top of that, Savage had caught a partial signal that some of the cargo transports had also rerouted unexpectedly. They were changing up their patterns, as if they might have suspected something was going to happen. This was not good. Savage cursed under his breath, the extraction point would be compromised if they didn’t draw them away.

 When they met up with Quinlan and Ventress to regroup,  he explained what was going on. He exchanged a look with Ventress, and without needing a word, she veered off to intercept the patrol heading towards the ship. 

Savage then turned to Maul and Quinlan, “I need to reach the relay station and figure out which sector they moved some of the cargos in. Once I find the correct sector, I’ll send the coordinates, but we’ll need you two to secure the cargos when I find them. Can you guys handle it?” 

Maul grunted. Quinlan let out a weary breath. “Sure. What else could go wrong?” He should’ve known better than to leave them alone.

“Woah woah woah, what do you think you’re doing?!” Quinlan snapped as he rushed over, breath ragged and eyes wide with fury. It hadn't even been ten minutes since Savage left. Maul with a passive look on his face, stood over one of the down guards ready to drive one part of his saber through him. 

“He’s stunned! Stunned! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Maul didn’t even turn to look at him when he calmly stated. “He’s going to wake and sound the alarm eventually. This is more efficient.”

“Efficient?! This isn't efficient, you… you absolute lunatic ! ” Quinlan hissed, grabbing at Maul’s arm. And that’s when the fight erupted. Savage hadn’t even made it near the signal before the alarm blared through the air. The syndicate scrambled like hornets. It was over.

Now, back on the ship, tension crackled between the crew while they all stood in the main room looking at the hologram of the mission. After getting the ship into hyperspace, Sugi came in with a fury slamming her hands down on the panel, “What the hell happened?!” Before Savage could speak, Quinlan beat him to it.“ We were compromised. Someone—” he threw a sharp look at Maul's way, “—couldn’t help themselves.”

Maul stood leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, barely reacting to his comment. But his voice was low and dangerous. “I am not the reason this mission failed.”

“Oh no?” Sugi snapped. “Tell that to the payload still rotting in syndicate hands.”

Quinlan came forward. “She's right. You’re a walking catastrophe. You don’t care about teamwork or the mission. Your only concern is to prove you’re still the biggest threat in the room.”

Maul’s jaw flexed with irritation as he unfolded his arms and replied. “You jeopardized everything with your recklessness. I tried correcting your error and you imploded.”

“ Error!? ” Quinlan said, voice cracking with disbelief. “You tried to kill a stunned man in cold blood, that’s not correction! That’s psychotic!”

“That’s enough!” Savage shouted, he stood in the middle of them, broad shoulders heaving and face tight with fury and exhaustion trying to get them to stop. “We'll discuss this when we get back to the village. Right now we need to stop clashing over everything and prep for a recovery mission to make up for the botched job.” 

Sugi turned to him, hands on her hips and struggling to keep her anger at bay. “You want us to help you? Fine, but the reason we failed today is standing right next to you.” Sugi said, she didn't even bother throwing a glance at Maul. “You’re dragging your unstable brother around like a chained nexu and expecting him not to bite someone’s head off.”

As much as Savage wanted to defend his own brother, they were right. Mission after mission they failed due to some disagreement and it always revolved around Maul not getting along with anyone else. 

Then Sugi’s voice, cold as ice, said, “As long as he ’s part of this crew, I’m done.” Quinlan gave a small nod next  to her. “Same. You want to keep him around? Fine. But don’t expect us to stick around while he ruins everything.”

Savage’s heart dropped. “Wait,” he said, a little bit more desperate than he intended. “ Let’s just take a moment and not make any drastic decisions. You said you’ll help us till we had a steady supply chain, proper protection and connections to— ”

Ventress, who’d been in the back listening quietly, finally spoke up “We’ve meant it for a while,” Ventress replied, tone resolute while standing up straight from where she was leaning on one of the panels. “I’ve lost too much to stand by and watch Dathomiri  fall apart again. We’re not just helping you for some job, Savage. We’re helping because what you’re trying to build matters. A home for our people. A future. And I believe in that.” She looked at him, with a finality in her voice. “But you’re wasting your chance for the sake of someone who doesn’t want to change. Make a choice, Savage. Him or the rest of us.”

They turned, walking out to their respective bunks. Savage stood still, like the floor had dropped out beneath him. His hands hung useless at his sides, jaw tight, chest heavy with a pressure he couldn’t shake. Silence filled the room with the occasional beeping from the panels as he watched his comrades leave the room.

“Good riddance” Maul muttered, relaxing and leaning on the side panel after they left. He picked up a datapad, browsing through it idly as if he could care less about what they said. “Honestly they’re so weak it's pathetic. We could easily find others more obedient and willing to complete the mission without all the drama.”

Savage didn’t answer. He couldn’t even look at his brother, his back still turned to him. He should be angry, furious and yelling at him like usual. But he couldn’t even muster to do that. He was just so…disappointed.

“I told you,” he said quietly. “How much we needed this.”

Maul looked up, his jaw tight. “ And I told you we can get different people. I’m already on it.” he said, and true to his words, he was browsing through some work-for-hire forum on the datapad. “Honestly I could’ve done this mission on my own if you had just let me.”

“You think I don’t know what this was?” Savage said, having enough and finally looking at Maul. “You picked a fight with Quinlan to prove a point—to remind everyone that you’re still dangerous. That you’re still a powerful Sith lord who shouldn’t be questioned.”

Maul’s voice came out sharp and defensive, as he stopped scrolling. “What? You think I did this on purpose? I was trying to do what was best for the mission.”

“You were doing what was best for your pride. Instead of just relenting and moving on, you just had to pick a fight to prove that you're right and everyone else is wrong.” Maul scoffed and turned away from his brother.

Savage stepped closer. “And now we have no food, no fuel, and dozens of people who don’t trust you near them.”

Maul looked more irritated and annoyed, as if he could care less of Savage’s predicament. Savage’s jaw locked as something in his voice cracked. “I’ve defended you” he said, “Stood in front of you and took the blame. Over and over again.” He then let out a defeated sigh.

“But this time, I can’t.” Maul paused. Savage stepped back, voice hollow. “I brought you here because I thought… maybe… you could be more than what he made you.”

Maul raised in fury, standing in front of his brother. “Don’t you dare bring him into this as if—”

“He’s in everything , Maul! Every time you lift your saber it’s not to help or protect, but as if you're proving something to a monster who threw you away!”

Even though Maul didn't speak of him, it was obvious Sidious had never really left him. It lingered in his anger, in the way he fought, in the need to control everything around him. As if he’d finally accepted the truth, that he’d been abandoned, but the mark Sidious left was too deep. Savage couldn’t help him get rid of it no matter how hard he tried. And he wasn't going to ruin everyone's chances at living just to accomplish the impossible. To get Maul to let go of the past. 

Savage’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“Just… go.”

Maul blinked. “What?”

“Go,” Savage said a little louder, “You’re not helping. You’re just making things worse. I can’t risk the people here for your demons. Once we arrive back at the village, I’ll… I’ll give you a speeder and some supplies. But that’s it, the deal’s off. I don’t want to see you anymore.”

Maul's anger finally boils over as he throws the datapad, shattering it. “You ungrateful fool! After all this, you finally want to get rid of me? You think I haven't been trying? You think I need you?!” Maul's chest heaved with anger towards his brother, but his brother didn't react, and kept looking at his brother with the most  disappointed eyes. “You probably never planned on helping me kill the Jedi in the first place, what with your allegiance to filthy mutts! I never should have wasted my time with your pathetic graveyard of a village!”

He turned and stormed off, footsteps echoing like war drums down the corridor. Savage watched his brother walk out, the silence deafening as he stood in the middle of the room. For the first time in a long while, Savage felt something hollow settle in his chest. A cold, aching emptiness. Everything he’d fought for, bled for, his brother, their people, was unraveling. And for the first time, he wondered if this fight had ever truly been worth it.

The speeder thrummed beneath as Maul passed jagged cliffs and the skeletal remains of old mining rigs. Just before Maul left, the ship was already lifting off, Savage taking the crew back into space without a word, without even watching Maul go. Vauren had replaced him aboard. So be it Maul thought. He didn’t care, he was done.

He never needed them. They want to pretend they’re so morally superior, as if their hands were so clean. Hypocrites, all of them. His jaw clenched as the wind howled past his ears. He tried, he thought to himself, he actually did. He stayed quiet, followed their stupid plan, and then the mutt decided to grab at him like some feral animal. They always push him and when he pushes back, he ends up being the problem.

After driving for almost the entirety of the day, Maul passes by a rusted sign marking the edge of a small outpost town, patched together from scrap. Rows of low buildings, flickering lights, and a worn-down cantina pulsing with dull music and the scent of engine oil and rotgut. He parked outside, not bothering to lock the speeder. Let some fool try and steal it, he thought bitterly. He needed a punching bag to let his anger out on. 

Inside, the cantina was loud and cramped. Conversations overlapped with the thrum of music, the air thick with smoke and sweat. Maul kept his black hood up, his cloak streaked with red dust as he made his way to the far corner of the bar without a word and sat. The bartender was a young Rodian, and with shaking fingers, approached with a glass with something poured before he could ask. Maul accepted it and said nothing.

He scanned the bar. Could be a decent place to find a ship to steal. Or maybe squeeze some  credits out of some poor fool.  Or maybe even recruit a new subordinate. He kept coming up with new plans to get himself situated with his current position, but instead of getting up and enacting any of those ideas, he just …sat there. Nursing his drink in silence, brows furrowed, staring past the durasteel shelves filled with bottles across from him.

He wasn’t sulking. That would imply he had something to sulk about. He was just…resting. He could care less about the fact that he was abandoned by his own brother, his last living family, and had nowhere left to go. Not even a little. Not at all.

The cantina’s noise blurred into a dull hum. He kept waving down the bartender, ordering round after round until finally feeling the buzz of whatever he was drinking. Chairs scraping, dice clattering, and glasses clinking around him. And then, through the haze of low music and murky air, he heard it.

“…Yeah, real ugly bunch.” A gruff voice said, “Heard they came looking for directions. Only dumb bastards piss off the Krayth Syndicate.” 

Maul blinked, recognizing the name immediately. The same one they’d targeted for the mission that the mutt screwed up. Well, they sure worked fast.

The voice then chuckled. “Yeah. Idiots. You don’t screw with Krayth unless you’ve got backup. But then again the whole place is just a charity project. A few wannabe warriors and a bunch of glorified scavengers.” The voice chuckled as laughter followed him.

Maul glanced down into his drink as he huffed out in amusement. Well, he thought, karma works fast doesn’t it? He knew they were talking about the village, though he couldn't bother to ask why he should care. Let the dumb mutt and Sith reject protect them, he thought viciously.  Let Savage try to save his pathetic scrap-heap village. Once his brother gets outnumbered by the syndicate and realizes how foolish he’s been, he’ll come crawling back to Maul, begging him for help. He smirked as he envisioned the image of the mutt disfigured and raised his cup to have another sip. But  before the cup reached his lips, he paused.

Savage isn't at the village. The only ones left were the elders and children. He froze. 

So what, Maul said to himself, rubbing at his temple furiously trying to dismiss the odd sense of panic rising in him. This could be even better, let the village go up in flames and he’ll make sure to come back for Savage. Then, they can finally do things his way and there'll be nothing holding his brother back.

Maul’s mind, uninvitedly, pulled back to the moment he first walked through their village. How they’d flinched at him. Feared him, yet…they let him stay. As if he wasn’t dangerous. His brother, who despite being a fool with such childish naive dreams, was the only person to have ever actually truly cared for him. The only one who came looking for him when he was rotting away in a dump. The only one who believed in him. Who still hoped for him to be something more than what his mast—what Sidious made him. His fingers curled hard around the glass in his hand. 

Behind him, the laughter continued. One of the patrons lowered his voice, nudging his friend. “Hey… maybe the syndicate’s doing us a favor.”

The voice snorted, laughing softly. “ Once they’re done, we could head out there and pick through the wreckage. Who knows what’s left. Dathomiri Zabraks can fetch a good price in the slave markets.”

More laughter followed, low and cruel, “Especially the younger ones. Bet if we get there fast, we could even—”

The glass in Maul’s hand shattered. The noise startled the nearest patrons. Blood welled in his palm where the shards dug in. He rose from his seat, the scrape of his chair was louder than it needed to be. Conversations stopped around him. One of the men who’d been speaking before, was laughing as he turned around—

—and Maul was already there.

He grabbed him by his hair and slammed his head into the table hard enough to break the cups and crack the surface beneath. The man shouted in fear, blood dripping down the side of his face as Maul held the man down, leaning in. His yellow Sith eyes glowing bright from underneath his hood. 

“When. Did. They. Pass.” Maul hissed his voice low and deadly. 

The man struggled, “I—I don’t know exactly— m—maybe a day ago.”

Maul pushed down on the man’s head even harder into the broken glass on the table.

“I don’t know!” the man screeched. “Evening! Last evening! They came through fast, barely stopped—”

That was all he needed to hear. Maul released him with a hard shove to the floor. The man hit the ground hard, scrambling back, screaming in pain and grabbing at his bleeding head. The cantina was dead silent.

Maul turned on his heel and walked toward the door without saying  another word.

Outside, the sky was darker now, dusk bleeding into night and stars just beginning to pierce the horizon. The speeder was right where he left it, untouched and dusted in red. Great, he could’ve used the excuse that it was stolen. 

He stood there for a  moment, seething. He told himself this was just unfinished business. Yeah, he could care less about them. Going back now would make Savage owe him. Maul swung into the speeder, ignited the controls, and turned it hard toward the  way he came from. Deep down, in a place he never let anyone touch, he knew the truth. He knew why he had to go back, but the last star would burn out before he’d ever admit to it. 

Far behind him, the cantina stayed silent. The laughter didn’t return.

—

The alarms shrieked around them. Red light bathed the corridor as Luke, Din, and the two children ran through the mazed halls of the facility. The smaller child clung to the older girl as she ran behind Din. It had taken time to convince the two kids to follow them, and even now knowing they were here to help, the girl was tense and guarded, glaring at them and holding her brother close to her. “This way!” Din called, helmet HUD guiding him through the maze-like halls.

As they rounded a corner, they came face-to-face with a squad of troopers. Luke stepped forward, igniting his saber.

“Cover them!” Luke shouted, using his saber to deflect fires. Din moved into position, crouching protectively in front of the kids. The older girl threw herself over her brother, shielding him, while Din’s beskar armor took the brunt of the incoming fire. 

Luke moved with controlled fury, twirling his saber in precise arcs and dispatching  the troopers. He stood in the center of the crossfire, trying to direct the attention towards him. It was at that moment that he found himself silently thankful that Din had insisted on coming along. It would've been too dangerous to take on a squad of troopers and protect the children at the same time. 

After Luke struck down the last trooper, the group pushed forward. Sirens continued to wail, but the corridor was becoming wider which Luke realized meant they were getting close to the exit. As if summoned by his thoughts, a ripple of darkness surged through the Force. He slowed down as the bad feeling engulfed him.

A blast door ahead hissed open, and a figure stepped through.The children froze, seeming to recognize the man immediately. The little boy whimpered as his sister snarled at the man. Din instinctively stepped in front of them. A figure clad in dark, fitted robes over polished cyborg plating stood with deliberate calm. His right arm was a sleek metal prosthetic, and his right eye glowed with a red artificial cybernetic gleam. His dark brown hair with grey strands  was cropped and parted with military precision. He smiled, a chilling expression that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Well now,” he said in a cool tone. “Out for a stroll, are we?”

The voice was in an unmistakably Coruscanti accent and he reeked of Inquisitorial poise. He ignored Din entirely, his gaze landing squarely on Luke.

“Luke Skywalker,” he said with a smirk. “The legend himself in the flesh. Picking up where your dead Order left off, I see. Still stealing children?”

Luke stepped forward, calm but ready. “Din, get back to the ship.” Din hesitated, eyes flicking between the Inquisitor and Luke, his jaw tightening. “I’m not leaving you here,” he said with his voice low, trying to make sure only Luke could hear him.  

“I’ll be fine, Din. Trust me.” Luke replied calmly, his gaze staying fixed on the man in front of him. Din’s visor lingered on Luke a little longer, trying to decipher if he’d be really okay. Finally, he sighed and muttered a low ‘Be careful’, before turning and guiding the kids down a side corridor.

The man didn’t move, but as Din neared the other door, he raised his prosthetic hand. The blast doors slammed shut with a deafening clang, sealing Din and the children in. “You really think you could just walk away?” he asked without turning, voice low and mocking.

Luke could feel the darkness radiating off him, a strong, cold, dark force in its malice.  It wasn’t like the raw rage of the Sith he had faced before. This was more controlled… more calculating.

An Inquisitor? But that didn’t make sense. The Inquisitorius had been wiped out after the fall of the Empire. Most were killed in the early Rebellion or were destroyed when the Empire collapsed. Regardless, they should be gone or no longer operating. And yet here one stood, alive and seemingly operating in secret. 

Din had his blaster trained on the man standing in front of the children. Luke’s expression didn’t change as he closed his eyes and centered himself, clearing his mind of his unsettling thoughts as he reached out with the force. One breath in. And then the blast doors groaned.

The Inquisitor’s smirk faltered. His hand clenched tighter, trying to keep them shut but Luke’s power swelled like a rising tide, effortless and vast.

With a metallic shriek, the blast doors trembled and then jerked open, hissing as the lock mechanisms gave way.

Din spun around, blinking as the passage cleared again. “Go,” Luke said firmly, eyes still locked on the Inquisitor. “Now.” Din didn’t need to be told twice. He ushered the kids through, blaster still drawn.

The Inquisitor lowered his arm, clearly annoyed and a little out of breath. “Impressive power Skywalker,”  he said with a cold smirk, “I’d expect nothing less from the man who toppled the empire. Though I have to admit…” His cybernetic eye glowed brighter with an almost delight. “…you’re no Vader.”

Luke narrowed his eyes. Who was this man? The two men circled one another, boots scraping across the durasteel floor. Then, with a snap-hiss, the man ignited a lightsaber. A green lightsaber. 

Luke froze. His eyes widened, heart lurching in his chest. “That saber… where did you get it?” His voice cracked with shock confusion and dread layered beneath it. “Who are you?”

The man raised the blade in admiration, letting the emerald light cast eerie shadows across his face. The man smiled coldly. “Beautiful isn't it? Belonged to a Jedi I... re-educated some time ago. She didn’t need it anymore.”  A dry chuckle escaped him. “As for my name? It would be pointless to tell you, seeing as you won’t be repeating it after today.”

Luke’s jaw clenched with fury flashing in his eyes. The saber must have once been wielded by a survivor. Whoever this man is, he clearly needed to be put down. 

“The Empire is dead,” Luke said with a firm finality in his voice.“No matter what you think you're building, it won't work. Fear doesn’t bring order. So whatever you think you're doing here, you should stop while you're ahead. The time for the dark is gone.”

The man feigned offense with a hand on his chest. “Gone?” he sneered. “You sound just like your old Masters. So noble. So blind.” his tone mocking. “You think because a throne crumbled and a mask shattered that the fire’s out? Please. You’ve only scattered the embers, Jedi.”

Luke ignited his lightsaber with a sharp snap-hiss as he readied himself. “If you're hunting children, I will stop you.”

The Inquisitor spun his lightsaber, getting into a stance “Then stop me.”

The Inquisitor lunged with blistering speed, saber whirling in full rotation. Luke met the first strike, both blades clashing in a spray of sparks. Luke stepped into the flow of the Force, parrying with ease, but this opponent was very well trained.

They fought through the corridor as their blades clashed as pipes hissed. The Inquisitor fought with vicious and calculated fury. Luke tried to analyze his style, but it was erratic using styles and techniques he wasn’t familiar with. And while they did seem equally matched in combat, Luke clearly was the stronger one in the force. Luke felt his chance before he saw it, using the force and saber to disarm the inquisitor and force kicking the man as he went  tumbling through a steel door and out into  a high exterior platform.

Luke followed, stepping into the gale. The platform stretched like a roof above the main facility, From here, the entire compound sprawled below with harsh lines of gray durasteel. Beyond it, the desert stretched endlessly, dry mountains jagged on the horizon, their peaks fading into the night. Luke stood tall, cloak whipping in the wind as the man grasped at his side as he was backed into a corner.

“You don’t have to keep fighting for something that’s gone.” Luke said. The man laughed to himself as he smiled menacingly “You Jedi always think you’ve won—until it’s too late.”

As the man said that he subtly clicked something on his forearm. The platform lit up around Luke with arcs of electricity. Luke had stepped right into a trap. Hidden conductors surged to life, shocking through his boots and limbs. He cried out, body seizing in place. His limbs locked in place as pain flared throughout the whole of his body as he dropped to his knees, his saber dropped. 

The Inquisitor finally stood up, using the force to retrieve Luke’s saber. “Such a shame” he said, his voice low and sarcastically regretful. “Would have loved the opportunity to turn you.”

He tilted his head, his cybernetic eye gleaming with mirth. “But no... you still cling to their lies.” He leaned into Luke watching as he spasmed from the pain of the electricity, still in place. “So let me do you a favor and leave you with a truth they never dare teach you—” His voice dropped to a whisper as he readied his blade to Luke’s chest. “As long as the Force exists… we will never be gone.”

Just before he struck Luke down, blasterfire rained from above as Din’s ship roared into view. Shots exploded around the Inquisitor, forcing him back. He snarled and threw up the saber to deflect. 

The blaster fires also turned and shot the conductors around Luke, freeing and stopping the electricity. The opening to the ship's entrance was lowered down as Din emerged, taking shots at the man and shouting. “Luke! Move!”

Luke dropped to the ground, breathing hard but free.The Inquisitor lunged again, but Luke was ready. The Force exploded outward, slamming into the man’s chest. He staggered back with a snarl, the lightsaber ripped from his grip and spinning through the air. In a single motion, it snapped into Luke’s palm and he lights it in a spin 

“This is over,” Luke said, saber ready and aimed at the man's neck. The Inquisitor's face twisted with rage. He stood empty-handed, fuming, as Luke leveled his saber at him.

Before anything could happen next,  troopers suddenly appear swarming out of the building, rifles raised and firing at them. The Inquisitor rolled aside and was swallowed into the chaos.

“Luke!” Din shouted from above. Luke looked up between blocking the oncoming fire, to see Din reaching one hand down from the open hatch of the ship as it hovered near the roof. Luke took a breath, centered himself and leapt off the roof aiming towards the outstretched hand. The Force surged beneath him like a rising wave. He soared upward,  and right before it seemed he wasn’t going to make it, Din caught his wrist and pulled him roughly aboard as the hatch closed. 

The momentum carried them both to the floor with Luke landing squarely onto Din. For a heartbeat, everything stilled as Luke’s face was inches away from Din’s helmet. Luke looked down at him breathless, then let out an unashamed grin. “Nice catch,” he said as he gave a playful peck to the helmet.

Din stiffened beneath him. He hoped Luke couldn't feel the heat of his blush through the helmet. Worse, he  prayed the Jedi hadn't noticed or better yet felt his lower body betraying him. Flusured, Din shoved the giggling Jedi off of him.

They were then reminded of their situation when the ship suddenly gave a violent lurch. Luke grabbed for a railing as he steadied himself. “Wait,” he said suddenly, brow furrowing. “Who’s flying the ship?”

Din and Luke turned sharply toward the cockpit—

There, perched in the pilot’s seat, was the little girl they’d just rescued. Her brother petrified, was holding on for dear life as she yanked wildly at the controls and pressed buttons randomly, face filled with panic.

“I don’t know what I’m doing!” she shrieked. “What idiots rescue kids and then forget to fly their own kriffing ship?!”

The ship bucked again, alarms blaring. Din stormed forward, moving her gently but firmly out of the chair as Luke steadied her brother. “Hang on!” Din said as he dropped into the pilot’s seat. His hands flew across the controls, and leveled the ship with practiced ease. The blaster fire faded as they pulled away from the facility, the platform vanishing into the clouds as they made it out to space.

Only then did the tension ease. Luke let out a long breath, offering the two frightened children a reassuring tired smile. Din piloted, eyes scanning the controls. Luke stood in silence, staring out the viewport. “You alright?” Din asked, glancing back.

Luke didn’t answer right away. His mind lingered on the green saber, the words,and the bizarre man they met.  Finally, he let out a tired sigh, “ Yeah. For now.” With a roar, the ship leapt into hyperspace leaving the planet behind.