Hope

Jaden sat cross-legged in his cell, his body still, his mind focused. He'd been alone for days. He hadn't seen anyone, not since that last visit from Master Leska, and he could feel something was off. Something had happened. He could sense Aubrie's fear through the bond they shared. When it first hit him, it was so strong, so sharp, that he almost broke out of his cell right then. But it didn't last. Aubrie had calmed down, and so did he. He knew better than to draw attention when he didn't need to. He'd stay put, for now. And so, he meditated, continued learning Force Wind under the eye of Satele Shan. It was different from other abilities—less about finding peace, more about feeling the world beyond himself and taking a role in it. Satele guided him, showing him how to manipulate the air, how to feel the currents around him. She personally used a gentler approach, guiding the currents rather than fully controlling. It was light, like a whisper, as if she were coaxing the wind to move. But Jaden didn't have that luxury. Jabiim's storms were violent. If he was going to use Force Wind, he'd have to bend the air to his will, force the currents to break. And that meant going closer to the darkness he wanted to.

He hated the thought. Last time he reached into the dark, he almost lost his ability to heal. And healing—it was the one thing that felt right, the one thing that set him feel like a person after killing so many. He understood now why Satele had prized it so much; it was a power to mend, to fix, to make something whole. But if there was any chance of opening up a path through the storms for an escape, then Force Wind was the way to do it. He'd have to figure out the Separatist fleet later.

"Focus, Jaden," Satele's voice came out sharp. "The Force is all around us. Latch onto it. Use it to control the air."

Jaden closed his eyes and stretched out his senses. He let the Force flow through him, feeling the currents in the air around his cell, letting it pulse through his fingers. The storm outside pushed at the edges of his awareness—chaotic, strong, tempting. He latched onto the air around him, and slowly, carefully, he drew it into his palm. He felt the air spinning, spinning until a small funnel formed in his hand, swirling like a miniature tornado. He held it there for a few moments, feeling the wind whip around his fingers, but it wasn't long before he lost control. The air slipped through his grip, the tornado collapsed, and he was left breathing heavily, sweat running down his face. It had taken days of this, practice after practice, meditation after meditation, but he'd done it. Finally.

Satele saw the look on his face and gave a knowing smile. "You're doing well, Jaden. You've mastered the basics, and that's all you need."

Jaden raised his head, still catching his breath. "What are you talking about?" He raised his palm, forming another small tornado and letting it spin for a brief moment before stopping. "This?" He shook his head. "This isn't going to break through the storm. I'd need something fifty times bigger."

"Size matters not," Satele said calmly, a small smile playing on her lips.

"That's stupid," Jaden said.

"Then keep practicing. Refine what you can do. Increase the intensity." Satele's voice was stern, patient, like a parent to a child.

Jaden let out a sigh, rubbing his eyes in frustration, but he nodded. He shut his eyes, trying to clear his mind for another attempt—when they both heard it. Footsteps. Heavy, hurried, coming down the hallway. Jaden's eyes flicked to the door. "I'll speak to you soon," he whispered before deactivating the Holocron and hiding it deep in his robes.

The cell door slid open, and Aubrie stepped in, her face pale, eyes wide. Relief washed over her features the moment she saw Jaden, her shoulders sinking as if a great weight had been lifted. She said nothing, not a word. She just walked in, quietly closed the door behind her, then deactivated the force field that separated them. And then she collapsed to her knees, hands shaking as she leaned forward.

"You're tired," Jaden said softly. It wasn't a question.

Aubrie nodded, barely able to lift her head.

"Then tell me what worries you tomorrow." He leaned forward, gently pulling her to him. She lay down, her head resting on his lap, and let out a long, exhausted breath. Jaden stroked her hair, feeling the tangled strands slip between his fingers, and slowly, Aubrie's breathing steadied. Within minutes, she was asleep. But even as she rested, he could feel it through their bond—the fear, the worry. It had been a sharp spike a few days ago, but now it was just an ever-present hum. She was terrified, barely holding herself together, and it hurt to feel it.

He looked down at her face, taking in every detail. The dark bags under her eyes. The frown that lingered, even in sleep. It was wrong, he thought, wrong for someone so young to be expected to carry this weight. The Jedi had sent her to fight, had told her to shut off her emotions, to fight and watch thousands die and after that to come back whole. But how could they expect that? They called it strength, discipline—but it was cruelty. He wondered if peace had blinded the Order, if they couldn't see what they were doing to their Padawans. Or maybe it was always like this. Satele had told him once that, even in her time, Padawans followed their masters into battle. It didn't seem right then, and it didn't seem right now.

Jaden's thoughts drifted to a memory—Coruscant, the lower levels, the places nobody talked about. It was a filthy, rotting underworld, where the air reeked of decay and trash piled up on every corner. Rats scurried through the debris, and the only lights were broken neon signs flickering in the darkness. Buildings were ruins, crumbling and abandoned, except for those unlucky enough to live there. Children lived like shadows in the alleys, hiding among the filth, scavenging to survive. Jaden remembered walking those streets, hood up, hands clenched in his pockets, delivering something for one of the local crime lords.

He came to a club, its front guarded not just by thugs, but by children. A Twi'lek boy, no older than nine, with dirt smeared on his face, clothes torn and stained. A human girl stood beside him, dressed in rags, gripping a blaster that was almost too big for her to hold. Jaden had given the passphrase to the guard—an older man with a scar running down his face—and was let inside.

But the inside was no better than the outside. More Twi'leks were there, but these were young girls, dressed in barely anything, serving drinks and food to the lowlifes lounging around. Jaden felt sick as he passed through. He wanted to pull out his blaster, burn the place to the ground, free the children. But he couldn't. He wasn't there to save anyone. And in the underworld, places like this were everywhere, common as the dirt. He knew that, in a different life, he could've ended up just like those kids.

Jaden blinked, bringing himself back to the present. He sat there, Aubrie still sleeping soundly in his lap, her breaths calm and steady. He continued stroking her hair, running his fingers gently through the strands. He hoped that when this was over, she'd find the sense to leave the Order. He didn't want her going back to war, didn't want her to be broken by it.

The hours passed slowly. Jaden didn't move. He just sat, his hand resting gently on her head, listening to the storm outside, feeling the flow of the Force around them, and waiting for the moment when Aubrie would wake up, and all of this would start again.

Aubrie stirred in Jaden's lap, her breath hitching as she slowly woke up. She blinked a few times, looking around the cell with a confused expression, like she was trying to figure out where she was. When she looked up and saw Jaden, her eyes widened in realization, and she quickly moved to her knees, a blush creeping across her face.

Jaden smiled softly, his voice gentle. "Did you sleep well?"

Aubrie brushed a few strands of hair from her face, a little embarrassed. "Yeah... It's the first time I've slept well since... since coming here."

"Good." Jaden nodded, the softness of his smile steadying her. But the concern never left his eyes. "Are you okay?"

She breathed deeply and nodded, then sat down next to him, leaning back against the wall. "I'm fine... just tired. Yesterday, I was so exhausted, I came straight here without thinking." Her voice was quiet, the exhaustion clear in every word. She paused for a moment before continuing, her eyes falling to the floor. "A lot's happened."

Jaden listened carefully as she spoke, his face turning serious.

"We've been searching," Aubrie began, voice tense. "The earthquakes, they're not natural. The Separatists... they have a superweapon. It's what's causing the quakes—planet-wide, tearing open the ground. The cracks are getting deeper. And for days, we've been trying to find their base. Me, Scout, Zule... everyone. We've barely slept, barely eaten. We've searched every corner we could, but we've covered maybe a quarter of the sector. Maybe. And we've found nothing." Her voice trembled as she spoke, each word heavier than the last. "And time's running out."

Jaden's frown deepened as she explained. He couldn't help but think of his dreams—the ones where the earth split open beneath him, threatening to swallow him whole. Satele had told him dreams meant something for Jedi, that they could be warnings, signs of what was to come. And when Jaden thought back to the dream he'd had before running into that Sith Acolyte—a man with a red lightsaber cutting through the darkness—he understood. "That's... not good," Jaden muttered, his eyes narrowing.

Aubrie's composure finally broke. Her face twisted with fear and despair, and her voice cracked as she started to shake. "We're all going to die," she choked out. "We've failed. We thought we won, but we've just made it worse. All of this... and billions of people are going to die because we failed."

She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as sobs wracked her body. Aubrie wasn't usually like this. She never let her emotions show, always trying to hold it together. But Jaden knew what it felt like to have hope ripped away, to believe you're safe only to have that safety snatched from you. She'd come to terms with dying a long time ago, had accepted it, but she'd been spared long enough to start believing she might actually make it. And now it was all crashing down around her.

Jaden wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close in a tight embrace, holding her as the sobs came. He pressed his cheek against her hair, his voice soft. "It's going to be okay," he whispered. "We're going to find that weapon, Aubrie. We're not going to let this happen. I promise."

They stayed like that for what felt like forever, Jaden's arms wrapped protectively around her as she wept, letting out all the pain and fear she'd kept bottled up. Slowly, the sobs faded to soft whimpers, and Aubrie's breathing evened out, her body trembling less and less. She stayed close, making no effort to pull away, and Jaden didn't push her to. He kept his arms around her, hoping to give her some sense of safety, some assurance that they'd find a way through this.

Then, the door to the brig slid open, and the tense quiet was broken by the bright, excited voice of Scout. "Aubrie, come on!" she shouted, a huge grin on her face. "We need to go now! We've found the weapon!"

Aubrie's eyes went wide, and she scrambled to her feet, wiping the tears from her face. "How—?" But Scout had already turned and started running back down the hallway.

Aubrie turned to Jaden, an apologetic look in her eyes. "I... I have to go," she said quickly, still half in disbelief.

Jaden nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. "Go," he said softly. "And be careful."

She gave a quick, grateful nod before rushing out the door, forgetting in her haste to re-engage the force field. Jaden watched her go. Then he let out a quiet laugh, waving his hand toward the panel and reactivating the force field with a soft hum. Jaden settled back into his meditative stance, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He needed to focus. Needed to clear his thoughts and let the Force guide him. He needed answers, and he hoped—more than anything—that the Force would show him the way forward.

————————————————————-

Tassan was the last bastion of the Separatists on Jabiim. While they still had other smaller bases scattered across the planet, Tol Skor had ordered all forces to retreat to Tassan. It wasn't a decision made lightly, but Tol wasn't interested in dragging this war out any longer. He wouldn't take any more chances. No tricks, no hidden plans. He'd defend Tassan with every droid, tank, and gun that he had left. He stood on a raised platform, overlooking the small town below—a town that was more of a fortress now, his eyes scanned the streets, taking in the carnage below.

The Jabiimi nationalists had tried to rise up when they learned the truth about the Mass Shadow Driver. They'd been told it was meant to clear the storms, to make the skies navigable. But when the earthquakes started, deep cracks opening in the earth, the Jabiimi knew something was wrong. They weren't fools—they figured it out. By then, it was too late. The Separatists had gathered, all the droids descending on the nationalists, and now they were being slaughtered. Tol watched as B1 battle droids fired into the panicked crowds, cutting down the Jabiimi fighters who struggled to resist, who screamed as they were torn apart by blaster fire. Some tried to run, but the droids were too many, their numbers endless.

Tol smiled, a cruel smirk stretching across his face. Soon, this entire cursed planet would crack open like an egg, destroyed from the inside out. The Mass Shadow Driver was destabilizing Jabiim's core, shaking it to pieces. The only regret he had was that he wouldn't see it personally. Wouldn't get to watch them all die as the ground opened up beneath him. Wouldn't see that arrogant Jedi fall. But he could still savor this, the droids wiping out every last Jabiimi fool who thought they could fight back. The screams were like music to his ears.

In the same camp barely half a mile way there was a small room, deep inside the base, away from the sounds of slaughter. Eden, the scientist who had activated the Mass Shadow Driver, sat in his quarters. He had just woken from another nightmare—something that had become routine for him. He moved to the sink, turned the tap, and splashed cold water on his face. When he looked up, he was greeted by the face he hated: his own reflection. Dark bags hung under his eyes, his cheeks hollow, his hair disheveled and unkempt.

"You know what you have to do," the reflection whispered back to him, a voice in his head he could no longer silence.

He clenched his teeth, looking away, his whole body trembling. He did know what he had to do, but he was terrified. Every fiber of his being was screaming to stay quiet, to not act. But he couldn't keep running from it. He turned back to the mirror, staring hard at his reflection. If he didn't act, then what kind of man was he? Was this truly the father his son would look up to? The thought turned his stomach. He was a coward. And soon, he would be a murderer—billions of lives would be wiped out because of what he'd done.

His breath came faster, his chest tightening as he started to hyperventilate. He stumbled away from the sink, but the screams filled his ears. He could hear them, the cries of people being swallowed by cracks in the earth, families torn apart as the ground split open. He clutched his head, letting out a broken scream before slamming his fist into the mirror, shattering it. Shards of glass cut into his knuckles, blood dripping into the sink. He stood there for a few moments, the sound of his heavy breathing filling the small room.

He looked back at the shattered reflection, tears streaming down his face, and clenched his fists. He knew what he had to do. There was no time left.

Eden quickly washed the blood off his hands, the cold water stinging the fresh cuts. He walked over to the closet and pulled out a fine suit—formal clothing, the kind one would wear to a banquet or ceremony. It felt right putting it on, this would likely be the last few moments of his life, he wanted to look good. He buttoned up the jacket, making sure it was straight, and then reached into a hidden compartment in the wall. From it, he pulled out a small blaster pistol. He'd kept it close ever since arriving at the base; he didn't trust anyone here, and he was right not to. Taking one last look at his cracked reflection, he felt the fear clawing at him again. He swallowed hard, turned, and walked out the door.

The base was quiet, aside from the distant thuds of artillery and droids marching outside. He kept his head down, moving through the halls, trying not to draw attention. He finally reached the communications center, a small room just off the main command area. He felt a brief wave of hope as he entered—it was empty, save for three B1 battle droids standing idly by, none of them armed. Eden pulled out his blaster, his hands shaking as he aimed.

The first shot hit one of the droids square in the chest, dropping it immediately. But the second and third droids weren't as easy—he missed his first few shots, the blaster bolts going wide and burning into the walls. One of the droids turned its head, raising a hand in confusion, but Eden finally hit it in the head, sending it clattering to the floor. The last droid took two shots, bolts slamming into its torso before it fell backward, sparking as it crashed to the ground.

With the droids down, Eden quickly ran to the control panel and locked the door behind him. His hands flew over the controls, inputting the emergency codes that would connect him to Cobalt Station. The screen flashed to life, and he spoke quickly, the words rushing out of him like a flood. "This is Eden... Eden Garrant. I... I'm the one who activated the Mass Shadow Driver." He hesitated for a moment, but then forced himself to continue. "You have to listen to me. The weapon is destabilizing the planet. There isn't much time—you have to destroy it before the quakes tear Jabiim apart, I'll send you the coordinates of the base with this message."

He felt the words choke him, but he pressed on. "I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't know... I didn't know it would come to this. Please, if you can—if you can get a message to my wife, to my son—tell them I was brave in the end." He finished, the words catching in his throat. And then, he hit the send button, and the message was gone.

A wave of relief washed over Eden, a calmness he hadn't felt in weeks. His heart was still racing, but for the first time in a long while, he felt content. He had done the right thing, and he smiled through the tears still wet on his face. He stood there for a moment, savoring it—the feeling of finally doing something good, finally standing up for what was right. He knew his family would never see this moment, would never know how he stood firm in the end, but he felt a peace he hadn't known in so long. He thought of his son and pictured his face, free of the shame that had haunted him all this time.

But the moment was short-lived. A loud banging echoed behind him. Eden spun around to face the door, his heart pounding again. The metal door buckled and twisted as if some invisible force was ripping it apart. With a screech, the door crumpled like paper, and Tol Skor stepped through the gap, his eyes burning with fury. Eden raised his blaster and fired wildly, but Tol moved like a shadow, dodging each shot with ease. With a flick of his hand, Tol used the Force to rip the blaster from Eden's grip, sending it clattering to the floor. Tol reached out with the Force again, grabbing Eden by the throat, lifting him off his feet as if he were nothing more than a doll.

"Who did you message?" Tol's voice was a low growl, his eyes narrowing to slits.

Eden clenched his jaw, saying nothing. Tol's expression twisted with rage, and he sent a bolt of Force lightning through Eden's body. Eden screamed, his muscles locking up, the pain like fire burning through his veins. But as the pain overtook him, his last thought was of the message he'd sent, the hope he'd given those who could stop the Mass Shadow Driver. And with a faint smile still on his lips, he went limp, the fight draining out of him. Tol let go, and Eden's body dropped to the floor with a dull thud. Tol frowned, looking down at the lifeless scientist in confusion. He hadn't used enough power to kill him so quickly.

What Tol didn't know was that Eden had taken an overdose of a medical-grade anesthetic, just enough to give him time to send the message. He knew Tol would find him, that he'd want to make him suffer. But Eden had denied him that satisfaction, choosing to go out on his own terms. Tol's face twisted into a snarl, and with a roar of anger, he grabbed the metal around him with the Force, bending it, crumpling it like paper. The sound of screeching metal filled the room, and the walls shook as Tol's rage flared, uncontrollable and wild.

(AN: the Last few chapters, I know not much has happened in these but the next few will be exciting, big battles, boom boom. The. After these next few chapters we move onto Arc 2 which will take place back on Coruscant, so pretty exciting. Anyway guys I hope you enjoyed the chapter.)

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