Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The last Jedi trailed callused fingers over the bark of old trees, inhaling deeply and letting his subconscious drift. The air currents danced over the trails of the Force, permanently embedded into the atmosphere of the planet over thousands of years, intertwined as one, singing of tales old and new as he breathed. Inhale. Hold for five. Exhale. Repeat.

The longer he let himself drift into the Force, the more sensitive his skin became. He felt pinpricks of discomfort; feelings of loss, and even more a taste of betrayal that he could feel under his tongue. Betrayal of friendships, betrayal of oaths sworn, betrayal of subordinates to their commanders, but also, twined within the betrayal was something more pressing; a sense of helplessness as all sense of bodily autonomy was blocked.

Ossus had been one of two Jedi-held planets that Alliance archivists had uncovered through old records hidden by the late Grandmaster Yoda and held by former Senator Bail Organa; the other was the planet Tython. However, all hyperspace routes leading to Tython had been lost, and despite the archivists’ work, they were still no closer to finding a safe route to Tython for Luke’s own exploration basis. Ossus was the perfect place to start the search, given that it was the home of the Great Jedi Library, holding the majority of the Order’s archived history despite efforts from Palpatine to erase it all from the galaxy’s history.

As soon as he had set foot on the planet’s surface, however, Luke was sent staggering and knocked mentally off-balance with the incredible Light Side energy pulsing from the planet. He paused briefly to look around, keeping one foot on the ladder of the X-Wing, and allowed his consciousness to expand ever-so-slightly to touch the pulses of positive emotions dancing on the tides of the Force.

He is here. He is here. The Light Son is here. The Light Son is here~!

Luke couldn’t help but grin at the sing-song words whispered on the wind, feeling prickles of childhood innocence dancing on the trails of the Force as he withdrew his consciousness back to his body and hopped down to make his way through the thick undergrowth of Ossus. All around him, he felt light pokes of interest and delicate giggles of children. The feeling of robes sweeping at his ankles, the steadiness and reliance of thousands of Jedi surrounded him, giving Luke a strange sense of reassurance that this was exactly what he was supposed to be doing.

He pushed his way through a nasty bundle of undergrowth, and couldn’t believe his eyes as he stared down a hill and into a still-untouched courtyard that had one of the largest trees he had ever seen standing tall in the center.

Look up.

The whispered words made him gather his courage, and Luke trailed his eyes upwards to see the ruins of the Great Library appear from the golden-hued fog, destroyed by the ravages of time and destruction by the Sith Empires of old. As he stared at the ruins, the Force grew in strength, and he had to put a hand up to his face to block the bright glare as winds gathered in strength and a dim glow shimmered into the center of the courtyard. The wind blew in strong gales, powerful enough to dislodge dirt and debris; the glow grew brighter with every second that passed, before dimming and disappearing just as suddenly as it had appeared. In the seconds following, the wind died into silence as well; and the only sounds were the rustling of robes and clinking of armor. Luke lowered his hand, unable to believe his eyes as he glanced over the now-filled courtyard.

Some he recognized, such as the younger figures of old Ben Kenobi, and Master Yoda, looking brighter than he had ever been, perched on the shoulder of a dark-skinned humanoid. Others, he didn’t recognize, such as a dark-skinned yellow-marked Kiffar standing next to a glowing Twi’lek that leaned into the embrace of a yellow-armored clone; a Kel Dor, wearing a mask and goggles to protect oxygen-sensitive sensory organs, and even a group of humanoid figures that wore what looked like monk robes. The longer he let his eyes sweep over the courtyard, he picked up the tinted armors of various Clone troopers scattered across the ruins. Some were easy to identify, Marshal Commander Cody of the 212th Attack Battalion, standing close to old Ben; Captain Rex, formerly of the 501st, restored back to perfect health; Commander Wolffe of the Wolfpack, also restored back to health; and the red-tinted armors of Commanders Fox, Stone, Thire, and Thorn, all formerly of the Coruscant Guard, who sacrified their lives to help protect Coruscant from Palpatine’s minions.

Others, however, he didn’t know; but the number of spirits present sent shivers down his spine. The bright laughter of blue-hued initiates filled the still air, chasing each other around the legs of the older spirits and clones as silence fell, and all present turned their attention to where Luke stood at the top of the hill, still struck into silence. Everywhere he looked, there were spirits, crowded into the courtyard; crammed onto the piles of rubble, and even piled ontop of each other in what looked like cuddle piles tucked into shadowed corners. Some wore casual robes, simple tunics over leggings; while others wore bloodstained robes, the exact item that they had been wearing when they had been killed. Others wore elaborately-designed suits of armor, and yet even more wore robes decorated with embroidery. Luke could clearly pinpoint who had been lost to Operation Knightfall, noting the scorched holes left by blaster bolts, but the others?

How many Jedi had there been over the Order’s entire history? How many had been killed before their time by the manipulations of the Sith Empires, the Chancellor, and the Separatists? How many innocent clones and younglings had fallen victim to biological-control-chips?

An airy touch to his wrist jolted him out of his trailing thoughts, and Luke looked down to see the small form of a blue-tinted Rodian youngling, gazing up at the other with starry eyes.

“Come, come, come!”

He laughed quietly, letting the youngling tug him through the ranks of gathered spirits and towards the tree in the center of the courtyard.

As he passed, the Jedi spirits bowed as one, sweeping from the front towards the back; the spirits of the clones snapped to attention with a strong salute. There was a strong underlying sense of gratitude, but also a faint hint of suspicion as spirit-quiet whispers filled the air, just as quickly silencing as as they had appeared. The wind once again grew in strength, picking up the leaves that lay around the courtyard to swirl around the large tree taking center stage in the courtyard. As the wind grew in strength once again, the tree started to shake and shift, nearly tearing itself free of the ruins that had kept it standing for so long. Luke took a step backwards, dumbstruck into silence as the tree slowly gave way to a living ancient being.

“Welcome, I say to you, Knight-Padawan Skywalker. I am Master-Archivist Ood Bnar, and I have stood watchful guard over the ruins of the Great Library since the fall of Ood Bnar at the hands of the Fallen Knight Exan Kur. On the behalf of the Order, both new and old, so do we welcome you to the Great Library. May you find knowledge within on the Force’s guiding paths.”

The large figure shifted ever-so-slightly, settling himself into a kneeling position, before continuing to speak.

“For far too long have we sat idly by, allowing the Dark to permeate ground and space, allowing the entanglements of the Dark into the blessed spaces of the Light… but no more, I declare. I speak for the Order, for those who have come before and for those that will come after. No more will we sit idly by, allowing conflict to embrace the galaxy and unable to help those who cannot help themselves while being constrained by the powerplays of the Senate.”

Luke inhaled sharply, mind working at a thousand kilometers an hour at the small hint the ancient Jedi had dropped. Had the Order really been duped into giving up all their power? Was fear the reason why the Senate held their leash so tightly? He exhaled slowly, gazing up at the ancient Master.

“And what do you ask of me, Master? I doubt traveling back in time is even possible, what with so many records lost to the ravages of the Sith.”

The ancient shifted with a sigh of discomfort, keeping his intense gaze on Luke, before slowly turning his head to draw the young man’s attention to the large doorway that a hooded and cloaked spirit stood in wait under. With quiet murmurs, and scuffs of movement, the gathered spirits shifted ever-so-slightly to clear a path to the Great Library for Luke as the ancient spoke once more.

“You have been conceived by the Chosen One of the Force, birthed by a Queen and Senator-twice over, one of two sides of the Force personified. You have been called by the Force, Knight-Padawan Skywalker, to cross the streams of time to fix what has been ruined. Fix what has been ruined, and prevent the evil that has befallen the galaxy. We, the Jedi Order of old and new, trust you with this mission. Master-Librarian Odan-Urr will take you from here… and may the Force watch over and guide the steps on the path you walk.”

“Master… I’m a Knight.”

Ood Bnar couldn’t help but laugh at Luke’s response, sounding like wind rustling through trees.

“You are a Padawan until you have passed all Knighthood Trials, young Skywalker.”

Luke couldn’t help but scowl, turning to climb up the stairs to greet the robed spirit, who gave him a flat-eyed wordless stare. The human quickly backstepped, giving a proper bow in greeting. The spirit returned the bow, finally speaking for the first time in words that rang strong-true-recovery in the Force. Luke cocked his head to the side, curious as he had never heard a language like what Odan-Urr spoke in, and followed the spirit as it signaled for him to follow into the Great Library.

Luke followed the spirit quietly, letting his hood fall to rest around his shoulders. The spirit of the librarian spoke once more, in the same language as before, descending down a set of elegantly-carved stairs with Luke at his back.

“Toin, ibli tal.[1]”

“I’m sorry… I don’t understand.”

Luke frowned, mind whirling as the Force swirled in eddies with every word the spirit spoke. Odan-Urr paused, glancing back over his shoulder, before silently dipping his head and gesturing for Luke to approach a set of sealed blast doors.

Luke turned slightly to stare curiously at the spirit, before he gasped at the gathering of the Force. Every molecule sung in the Force; the ruins of the library rang with the remnants of knowledge, and the presence of spirits old and ancient alike radiated in the Force, glowing in feelings of peace-trust-comfort-rescue-safety-protect.

The next thing he knew, was simply darkness. However, he didn’t struggle, feeling the gentle embrace of the Light wrapping around each individual limb. All around him, flashes of memories appeared and disappeared just as quickly without rhyme or reason. Voices drifted on the air, leaving him struggling to identify who was speaking as he floated through the darkness.

“Execute Order 66.”

“It requests all Jedi return to the Temple… it says that the war is over.”

“In the name of the Galactic Senate of the Republic, and by the power vested in me as Master of the Order, you are under arrest Chancellor.”

“The Separatists have been defeated and the Jedi rebellion has been quelled. We stand on the threshold of a new beginning. In order to ensure our security and continuing stability, the Galactic Republic will be reorganized into the first Galactic Empire, for a safe and secure society which I assure you will last for ten thousand years. An Empire that will continue to be ruled by this august body, and a sovereign ruler chosen for life… an empire ruled by the majority… ruled by a new constitution.”

A more serious voice sounded, ringing above the other whispers. This one was wrought with emotion, twisted with grief and strangely monotone, almost as if they were reading from a datapad versus straight talking.

“‘What I remember about the rise of the Empire was… was how quiet it was. During the waning hours of the Clone Wars, about, half of the remaining 501st Legion under the command of Commander Appo were transferred back to Coruscant with no explanation given. It was a silent trip, none of us dared to speak a word for fear of being decommissioned. We all had a sinking feeling in our stomachs; we all knew our orders… Good soldiers follow orders.

Did we have any doubts? Any private, traitorous thoughts? Perhaps… Maybe… but the only focus was on eliminating the Traitor Jedi. Not on the flight to Coruscant; not when the Order was given, and certainly not when we marched on the Temple under General Vader’s command. Not a word was exchanged, even though most of us were screaming inside our heads as our bodies marched like droids, unable to move a single muscle to stop what was happening.’”

Luke could barely percieve the remaining words, as they were covered by a splatter of dried blood, but he felt the emotions twisted in the writing. A flash of instant pain pierced his head, then nothing… the pain, the trauma… all that flew out of his head as the voice continued.

“‘How could we have done this to our family? Our friends? How could we have done this? The blood of innocents cover our weapons, our hands, stain our armor… the blood of Generals and Commanders alike. Innocent blood spilled for the lust of overwhelming Sith power. Were both Fives and Tup onto something? Should we have listened to them…? Most likely, yes. But now, we have to live with the memories and realization that we killed our friends and family… I cannot live with myself. I have to end it. I am sorry.’”

Traveling through time was no easy feat, fighting the pull of the waves of time. With the support given by the ancients and spirits alike, the toll paid was simple: his age. Luke went from a man of early twenties to a teenager of thirteen, keeping all his force strength. As the waves of time reversed, another faint whisper was heard on the currents.

Trust in the Force, young Skywalker. Trust in the Force and the Order, for they will never lead you astray.

Chapter Text

Battlemaster Cin Drallig had always cautioned those looking at the Temple Guard in awe, always warned the ones who looked at him and the Guard as they walked through the corridors to the front of the Temple every morning, just to make sure that it was what they truly wished to do.

To guard the Temple was important; and it was an honor to serve as a Guard — in text, that was. In archives and books, it was marked as a sacred job. But, it wasn’t for everyone. While Jedi were out in the field; the Temple Guard was home’s first line of defense.

Some outside of the Order thought their job was cushy, easy, and unimportant, that the Temple Guard was full of cowards who didn’t want to face the real battles out there, the real danger. Cin had heard all those words before, listened with a straight face while he stood with his brothers and sisters in silence, blocking protesters from Temple access.

The Order as a whole were not cruel, were not raised to be cruel, but in every organization, there would always be exceptions… a certain Besalisk Master came to mind.

The Temple Guard was the Temple’s first line of defense against any threats posed to the community within, both interior and exterior. It was more common for exterior threats, but on the rare days… the silent alarms were set off signaling an interior threat.

:Dutchess to Dragon.: His commlink buzzed, drawing his attention off the stack of paperwork, and Cin tapped the device to answer the call.

:Dragon here; go ahead Dutchess.:

:Sir, there’s… something weird going on in the Room of Thousand Fountains…:

Kriff. The Room of Thousand Fountains were popular with Initiate Clans and Padawan groups alike; and Cin barely wasted a moment in scooping up his commlink to make a quick Shadowwalk from his office to the main doorways of the Room of Thousand Fountains.

Upon his arrival, Cin was greeted by the unusual sight of several Guards, with the prominent figure of Lofan issuing directions.

“Status update.”

“The Room’s been evacuated; sir. Mother and Justice are conducting a final sweep to clear it before we move in. On your order, Battlemaster.”

Cin let his hand drop to wrap around the hilt of his lightsaber, removing it from his belt to hold in a loose reactionary position.

:Room is clear.: Nira’s voice came across the channel, calm as ever. :Force… instability is holding steady for now.:

:Acknowledged; set a boundary at the doors for now. No one is allowed into the room until it is cleared.:

Cin turned slightly to signal Lofan to take an unit to the second set of doorways of the Room, and he swept his gaze over those that remained. His eyes alit on the steadily-approaching figure of Docent Redmond, covering the floor with wide-eating strides.

“Battlemaster, what is the meaning of this? Closing the entire Room of Thousand Fountains? You are aware exactly how many Initiate Clans use the Room every day!”

“Docent Redmond, given the presence of a Force instability, and by the authority in me as Battlemaster and Head of Temple Security, I do have the capability to close any public space if a potential threat to the Temple’s stability.”

“How long will the Room be closed then, so I can let the Créchemasters know?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll keep you updated with any changes that may happen.”

Cin turned away from Docent Redmond, taking his position at the front of the remaining Guard, and leading them into the Room of Thousand Fountains.

Stepping into the Room, the strength of the Force instability was enough to send even the most trained Masters to their knees.

:Kriff, this is crazy.:

:Cut the chatter, Hawkeye.:

The instability continued to grow, now no more than a steady hole of deep blackness that trailed into a pathway of shadows that not even their scanners could permeate.

Those still in the Room of Thousand Fountains couldn’t hide their reactions as a body came slamming into the moss-covered floor, landing limp with a sickening thump.

:Caretaker!:

:I’m here, Drallig. No need to fuss.: Haalim’s voice came over the commlink as a white-garbed Guard stepped out of the gathered guards, and knelt by the figure as Cin took a step closer.

He stared at a face slightly familiar, with soft cheekbones and an angular facial structure. Whoever this was, their physical appearance marked direct ancestral relationship with Senior-Padawan Anakin Skywalker, currently in the Outer Rim with his master, Master Nico Diath… but there was something more about the figure’s features that made the hairs on the back of Cin’s neck prickle in discomfort. Whatever, whoever this was, he clearly had Nubian descent as well.

:Well?:

:He’s… simply put, not injured… but Battlemaster, look at this.:

Cin knelt besides Haalim, careful not to disturb their work, and watched with wide eyes as armored hands picked up the stranger’s right hand, and withdrew a small laser scapel from their kit to cut a small piece of synthskin off.

Underneath the patch removed, the wiring and mechanics of a prosthetic hand were visible to the pair. However, unlike other prosthetics worn by members of the Order, this one seemed… more technologically advanced than anything that they had avaliable at this point.

:Look at this.:

Haalim prodded the fingertips, and Cin watched with disbelief as the mechanics moved to curl fingers into the palm, imitiating the movement of a human hand. By the Force… This is certainly not what he expected to deal with today.

:Alright… I want a watch on the stranger while I contact the High Council. If he starts to stir, sedate him. And before the Créchemasters ask, the Room remains closed until further notice. If they have issues, tell them to bring it to me. Clear?:

Affirmative responses came over the commlink as Cin pinged the High Council’s channel, waiting for an answer, rising to walk towards a quieter corner while Haalim and another Guard worked over the stranger.

:High Council, Councilor Plo Koon speaking.:

:Councilor Koon, I am calling from the Room of a Thousand Fountains regarding the status of a sudden Force-instability.: