Chapter 23
20 BBY | Ch'hodos
Twenty-Two Months After the Battle of Geonosis
Adaar Kryze
In hindsight, the landing on the red, rocky desert planet could have gone better. Bathed in the red sun of Ch'hodos, I observed Leetu as she fretted over the starboard side of the Xiphon. The large dark starfighter was scored with scratches and markings from the botched landing.
"How are we looking, Leetu? I wouldn't like getting stuck on this planet if it can be helped."
"It's better than it looks, although no thanks to your subpar flying. The Xiphon can take more damage than your ineptitude can inflict."
"I resent that; my flying is fine."
"Sure, that's why we are in this situation."
"You just said it was not that bad."
"And it's not, but do you have any idea how much artisan work went into the paintwork decorating the Xiphon? When we got it delivered from Mandal Hypernautics, it was all black. All black, I tell you! I know four people spent twelve hours working on it to make it look this nice."
"It's just some stripes, surely it wasn't that much work. Also, who told them to paint it?"
"I did, of course. Your own aesthetic sense leaves much to be desired."
"…It does not."
Leetu stopped for a moment, turning her head almost like an owl, her photoreceptors boring into me for a second. Without a word, she turned her head creepily back towards the Xiphon, returning to her work.
Getting caught in a radiation blast from Ch'hodos' sun was unexpected, and I didn't think my flying skills were to blame.
I fly expertly, thank you very much.
Even as these thoughts were going through my head, I smiled. Leetu had become a good friend to me, her personality developing over the years we spent together.
Informing her that I would begin searching for my target, I started trekking towards the large mountain rise I saw not far from where we landed. Through the dusty winds, I could see the large obelisks lining the entrance to the mountain.
A Sith tomb, and the reason we came here.
Drawing closer, I started to recognise the ancient architecture of the Sith Empire. To a historian's eye, an interesting blend of more modern Sith designs was interspersed with older, ancient structures.
Clearing dust and debris from the wall of red stone at the entrance, I carefully studied the barely visible ancient carvings. The oldest and least visible script I could not read. Darth Marr's knowledge of High Sith was purely academic and incomplete; the ecclesiastical script that used hieroglyphs was ancient, dating back to the Sith Empire of Adas, many millennia even before Marr's time. What I could read, although with some difficulty, was the more modern version, the Kittât—though calling it modern when it was thousands of years old and very much not in use anymore was a bit of a misnomer.
Passing my fingers over the relatively fresher carvings, I carefully translated the inscriptions on the great wall.
Be ye warned, visitor, thine... What followed next was an unreadable part of the message, scrubbed away by the sands of time. Moving forward with my fingers, I resumed once the script was legible once more. ...here lies the most dreadful of Dark Lords, honoured and feared in equal measure. Turn back now, or test thy will against that of Darth Lachris; be ye warned.
Well, it looked like I was in the right place. Looking for the tomb of Darth Lachris, a Sith Lord and once apprentice of Darth Marr, had always been a long shot and not a high priority. However, since I was already close to Ch'hodos during my last sweep of Sith Space, I decided to take a look. Unlike before, Marr had no exact coordinates for me this time; Darth Lachris died only after Darth Marr was already dead, so there was no real telling what I might discover here.
What I hoped for was something Marr may have left behind for Lachris herself. Unlike some of the more deadly master-and-apprentice dynamics, Marr and Lachris maintained a solid working relationship—if you could call it that, with Sith politics being what they were. Although I found quite a treasure trove of information and resources in Sith Space, many of the more personal safehouses Marr gave me were busts, so I hoped I could glean some more information from his apprentice and de facto heir.
Even as I had approached Ch'hodos, I could feel a slight pull from the Force, nudging me forward as I drew near this world. Lana Beniko's crystal—the one I continued to wear around my neck on a leather cord beneath my clothes—was likewise feeling warm, a type of warning I had learned to associate with the Force guiding me somewhere.
Venturing deeper into the tomb, I traversed the ancient passages made of rusty red stone. Bioluminescent fungus lined the ceiling, lighting the way in dim, fluorescent light. As I advanced further, I came to a larger chamber where the polished stone walls receded into a rougher texture—the beginning of what looked like a cavern expanding before me.
I frowned. This was surely not the right place for a tomb or a sarcophagus; I must have missed a passage on the way here. Resting my hand on my breastplate, I could feel Lana's crystal through the Force, still urging me forward.
Taking a look around, I was suddenly assaulted by a warning flare in the Force, ducking at the last moment as a red blade of plasma passed through where my neck had been just a second ago.
Drawing the Darksaber, I stepped backwards, blocking that same blade as it came down on me again.
Blocking the strike, I came helmet to helmet with my attacker.
At first glance, she appeared to be a woman dressed in black, a large cloak shielding most of her body, brandishing a long, red-bladed lightsaber towards me.
I felt the Force flow through me, my senses sharpening in concentration.
Looking at my opponent, I could now feel her emotions through the Force: I watched the rise and fall of her chest, tracked the movement of her limbs, and noted the squaring of her shoulders—all the things I had been taught to observe during battle. As I centred my emotions in the Force, I drew on that balance: the rush of exhilaration, the resolution to stand my ground. I channelled it all and let the Force flow through me once more.
Deflecting a downward swing, I weaved to the side and sent a counter from my left, the midnight blade of the Darksaber singing its song of battle.
As my opponent blocked and our blades came to a standstill, I observed the blood-red blade of plasma, my sight trailing down to the hilt in a momentary distraction. The unusually long handle was curious, almost like a sabrestaff, but I could see no emitter on the other side.
Pushing against the blade lock, I focused on my opponent, even as I mentally dissected our exchange and who exactly stood before me.
Cloaked in dark robes, she had armour plates peeking from beneath her garments, and a single baleful red eye dominated what passed for the visor of her helmet. It was only through her general body shape that I could tell a woman stood before me. Tall, but not overly so, I saw her squaring up, carefully sizing me up as we uncoupled our blades, with perhaps two metres separating us.
As I watched her heft the lightsabre, I could see she held it differently than one would a regular blade. Using a two-handed grip, the long handle left a lot of space between her palms as they rested on the hilt, almost half a metre apart. Curiously, I was reminded of depictions of a large falx blade, or perhaps a nodachi.
Spoiler: The Mysterious Opponent
I considered bringing out my second lightsaber for a moment, but quickly decided against it. This was an unfamiliar weapon, and by her stance and the way she held it, I could see it would not be used like a regular lightsabre. Better not try anything fancy.
Twirling the Darksaber in a tight circle to what I hoped would unsettle my opponent, I quickly closed the gap, focusing on keeping the initiative. There were many ways to fight a battle, and all of them were equally valid in different situations. Because I didn't know what to expect, I needed to maintain the initiative—make my opponent react to me, not the other way around.
Feigning a strike from the right, I quickly brought the blade closer to my body and executed a thrusting attack. My opponent dodged by turning sideways, facing me in profile.
Even as my attack passed where her shoulder had just been, her own blade was held tightly to her chest, pushing forward and sending my blade to the side, dragging me along with it.
Translating the pushing movement of her blade into a cut, she brought her lightsaber down to strike diagonally across my midsection.
Before her weapon could reach me, however, I took one hand off my own blade and sent a small telekinetic push towards the red lightsaber as it inched closer.
Sending the red blade to the ground, I put my opponent in the same position I had been in a moment ago: go along with the blade or pull back fully; dropping it was not an option.
As she did the predictable thing and pulled her arms back, the Darksaber was already returning from where it had been pushed aside, striking out as I held it in a single-handed grip.
All of this took place in the span of a few seconds.
We exchanged strike after strike, parry for riposte, dodge for counterattack—our blades locking repeatedly as we sought weaknesses in each other's defences.
She was fast and agile, and her long blade gave her a larger reach than my Darksaber. Even so, as we exchanged strikes, I began reading her moves better.
Leaning into Form II, I used careful, precise footwork to get around her longer blade, exploiting Makashi to its fullest. I struck quickly with my agile blade, forcing her larger weapon to move fast to intercept.
Another furious exchange took place, blood-red and midnight-black slashing through the dimly lit cavern.
As she swung a heavy slash from the side, I could see her whole body moving, putting all her weight behind a strike meant to shatter my defence. Instead of parrying or dodging as the principles of Makashi would dictate, I suddenly switched to the heavier stance of Djem So.
With the Way of the Krayt Dragon, I rooted myself and met her strike head-on, taking the brunt of her powerful sweep with the Darksaber. My muscles strained against hers as our blades locked. I could see her arms tremble while mine remained steady, the Force flowing through me and giving me strength.
Taking a half-step forward as our blades remained locked to the side, I stepped into her personal space shoulder-first and brought my forehead down against hers.
The distinctive sound of beskar hitting metal rang out as I sent her stumbling, her lightsaber remaining in her hands only with great difficulty.
Capitalising on the advantage, I released one hand from my hilt and thrust it forward, sending a telekinetic push that lifted my opponent off her feet and sent her flying into the stone wall behind her.
As her helmeted head impacted the rock, I took a moment to observe my opponent. After our exchange of blades, I felt confident I could beat her, so I paused to observe this unfamiliar foe, sensing her through the Force just as I viewed her with my eyes.
She had power, that I could not deny, but her aggression was... different. Not uncontrolled, but neither was it firmly in her grip. I could feel no hatred, though pain and anger from how our battle was going were palpable.
Having never encountered a dark-sider, I wondered if this was how they felt in the Force. There was no better time to observe an opponent and how they utilised the Force than when your blades were crossed.
Watching for a moment as she got to her feet, I kept my blade at the ready.
"Who are you?" I asked, an edge in my voice. This was a former Sith world; there was a chance I had found a Dark Side cultist, and where there was one, there could always be more. I needed to remain alert and get some answers.
Recovering, she let out an angry grunt, distorted by her helmet's vocoder.
Taking her blade in both hands, I could feel her gathering the Force for some sort of attack. Feeling indecision for a moment, I cursed my hesitation as she swung her blade forward, sending it spinning through the air.
Not directed at me, I realised quickly, looking up at the path of the blade while keeping an eye on my opponent.
It struck high above me, cutting through a stalactite and sending the pointed rocky growth falling toward where I stood.
Sidestepping quickly to avoid the falling debris, I watched as she recalled her lightsaber to her hands.
Frowning beneath my helmet at my own lack of discipline, I channelled that frustration into the Force, drawing it inside me and sending a stream of lightning from a single extended hand.
My opponent brought up her blade and caught the lightning, grounding it along the red plasma.
Regular lightning was, at the end of the day, a simple electrical current—nothing more, nothing less. If you were not taken by surprise, it was actually not that difficult to defend against, provided you had a lightsaber. The truly devastating attack that wasn't so easily blocked—though it looked very similar to the uninitiated—was a product of Sith Sorcery: the so-called Sith Lightning. A user channelled deep hatred or another powerful Dark Side emotion to imbue the electrical current with the power of the Force—more specifically, the Dark Side. Such an attack had to be stopped by channelling opposing energy through your lightsaber; simple grounding would not work against it.
I did not know, nor did I ever wish to learn, that kind of technique—the price for such knowledge was not one I was willing to pay.
Still, there were ways around simply blocking lightning with a lightsaber.
Quickly deactivating the Darksaber and clipping it to my belt, I stopped the stream of lightning and motioned effortlessly with my other hand, sending a telekinetic shove directly at my opponent's blade, pushing it downwards.
Almost in the same heartbeat, I resumed the lightning, striking her directly in the chest. Her muscles spasmed and locked up with her blade now out of position.
As quickly as I had struck, I ceased the electrical assault. The reason Marr had taught me how to use lightning in the first place was to learn control. Any fool with instructions could produce lightning, but to truly control it—to direct it to your will and adjust the power flowing in the streaming blue bolts for your purpose—that was true mastery.
Too much power and you fry your opponent; too little and you inflict agonising torture. For a stunning attack, the stream needed to be precisely timed and the power correctly adjusted.
Seeing my opponent twitching and sagging against the floor, her back against the rocky wall, I summoned her lightsabre to my hand, disarming her.
"Silence will not avail you. Speak, tell me who you are," I commanded in a firm voice.
The effects of using lightning were exhilarating. The amount of power held in the palm of my hand, the feeling of the Force flowing through me and transforming as I willed it—it was almost addicting. That was another facet of control that mastering lightning provided: it taught me to let go, to face my desires and will them to abate.
Looking down at the recovering woman, I saw her catching her breath. Her hood had fallen off at some point, revealing the helmet with the single red eye lens beneath.
"I'm a Sith, pretender," she said after a moment, still catching her breath.
Seeing dark hair peeking out beneath her helmet's collar where it had been dislodged, I used the Force to rip off the helmet, revealing a young woman with pale skin, raven-dark hair tied in a messy, partially loosened bun, and grey eyes half-lidded from exhaustion. Grey, not yellow.
Spoiler: Even More Mysterious Opponent
"I very much doubt that," I said dryly.
"You know not the extent of my power," she hissed.
I gestured towards her where she was leaning against the red, half-crumbled wall, casually hefting her deactivated lightsaber in my hand as if to prove her point was entirely moot.
"A minor setback," she insisted. "The Sith are more powerful than you realise."
"Peace is a lie, through passion I gain strength. Through strength—"
I cut in her recital of the Sith Code before she could get through the third verse. "Tyûkjontû châtsatul nu midwan. Midwanjontû châtsatul nu asha. Ashajontû kotswinot itsu nuyak. Wonoksh Qyâsik nun."
She bristled, her eyes widening.
I frowned beneath my helmet. "Do not quote the Sith Code to me. You lack the knowledge to fully understand its meaning—or its origin, for that matter," I said with annoyed voice.
"And you do, I suppose?" she questioned, her eyes narrowing.
"What do you think?"
"Who are you, then? How did you gain this knowledge? This power?" she asked.
"I will be the one asking the questions here," I said, frowning down at her beneath my helmet. "What is your name, and who sent you here?"
"My name is Hav'ranna, and no one sent me. I follow my own will," she declared defiantly, before scoffing slightly. "Though you have me at a disadvantage now—you know my name, but I do not know yours."
"Keeping you at a disadvantage is an advantage I intend to keep."
Looking down at her blade in my hand, I though to her words. "Why do you claim to be Sith, then?" I asked. "What do you truly know of what you claim to be?"
"I know that the Sith hold power where the Jedi lack it. And I know that my fellow hidden followers of truth lack the courage to seek it out."
"Hidden followers of the truth?" I echoed. "Who are they? Some sort of Sith cult?"
"We are those who pierce the lies of the Jedi and their false histories, the hidden ones," she declared proudly.
"So, much worse than a Sith cult, then. A Dark Jedi," I said with a sigh.
"We are no Jedi!" she snapped. "We follow the true path. You are right to fear us."
"You misunderstand; you are only worse in the sense that you are far more insufferable. Cultists on an old Sith world I could understand, but a Dark Jedi I cannot stand. You ooze false confidence, wandering the depths of the Dark Side blind, deaf, and dumb—stumbling across power without comprehending its true meaning, or the price to be paid for it."
"We are no Dark Jedi," she insisted, her voice tight. "We left the Order willingly, after perceiving through their veil of lies."
"And what lies would those be?"
"Surely you must know? If you claim to be Sith, then you must know the truth the Jedi keep secret!"
"I don't claim to be a Sith; you merely assumed so."
"But your power—"
"Power comes in many forms, and there is far more to the Force than just the Jedi and the Sith. Now tell me: what lies do you speak of?"
She smirked triumphantly at me. "The Jedi lie to the galaxy! They pretend they are the masters of the Force, but all they learned—all their knowledge—came from the Sith. They were the first ones, the progenitors!"
I stared at her in disbelief. Was she actually being serious?
"And how, exactly, did you arrive at that conclusion?"
"There are hidden texts—secrets that the Jedi tried to keep buried to hide their shame," she explained, nodding her head sagely as if imparting some profound wisdom. "They spoke of the true Masters; the ones the Jedi used to learn all their knowledge from, only to discard them afterwards. The true Sith! They sent them to drift through space in exile, but they survived, and their civilisation endured right here! On this world and many others! Forever a thorn in the side of the Jedi Order."
She was actually serious.
Exiled Sith, drifting through space and settling on these worlds.
"Are you talking about the Exiles?" I asked, rubbing my temple as I took off my helmet with one hand, the other still holding Hav'ranna's lightsaber
"Yes! You know of them, then! The progenitors!"
"I know of the Exiles, yes, but what you speak is utter nonsense."
"But—"
"The Exiles were Jedi," I interrupted flatly. "They fell to the Dark Side and fought a civil war with the Jedi Order—the Hundred-Year Darkness. They fled to these worlds and discovered the original Sith species, styling themselves as gods and forming a new order: the Sith Order. It has nothing to do with the origins of the Jedi or the Sith themselves; both existed thousands of years prior to those events."
"But the scripts—"
"I don't know what scripts you read or what truth you think you've uncovered, but if you are truly speaking of the Exiles—of Ajunta Pall, Sorzus Syn, XoXaan, Remulus Dreypa, Karness Muur, and the rest—then you are sorely mistaken. They were Jedi. They drifted to Korriban, found the native Sith species, ruled over them, and established the Sith Order. They created the Sith Code and everything that followed."
"That cannot be..." She shook her head, visibly rattled. "How do you even possess this knowledge?"
"I am not inclined to share—especially not with a Sith fanatic."
"But surely you must see that the Sith are truer than the Jedi!"
"The only thing I see is someone trying very hard to claim a title they do not remotely understand."
"Then teach me!" she blurted out.
"Teach you? Why in the seven Corellian hells would I do that?" I asked in bafflement.
"Surely you are powerful? You must need an apprentice to carry on your legacy!"
"I have no need for a legacy. My power is my own; I have no desire to train apprentices or followers in my ways of the Force. Let the Jedi and the Sith worry about that."
"But all the Sith were killed!" she pressed, her voice rising in desperation. "Who will carry their legacy now? Surely, if not for yourself, at least let me learn, so that I might bear the name of Sith proudly! I could resurrect the ancient Order!"
"And for what purpose? To wage another pointless war on the Jedi?"
"No! I don't care about the Jedi!"
"Just moments ago, you were content to rage against them."
"Well... yes," she admitted, faltering slightly under my gaze. "But only to prove that the Sith are the true masters of the Force. Now I know better, though! I promise I seek no revenge against the Jedi, and neither do my brethren. But we are hunted by Jedi brutality—they would never leave us in peace if they knew about us."
"I wonder why."
"All we seek to do is practice as we see fit, to follow our own will. To protect those in need as the Jedi once did before they lost their way! But we cannot—not when the Jedi hunt us down."
"So what, then? You and your people want to rebuild the Sith Order?"
"Yes! Well... I do. They are... somewhat undecided on the matter."
"Undecided?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "How did you even get here? Were you sent by your Order? What did you call yourselves—the Followers of the Hidden Truth?"
"Yes, though we call ourselves the Jensaarai in the language of the old ones."
"Ah. The ur-Kittât."
"Precisely! You truly are learned in the ancient lore."
"Answer the question, please."
"The Saarai-kaar did not send me," she admitted softly. "I came of my own volition."
The Saarai-kaar—the Keeper of Truth. That must be their leader.
"The Jedi hunted down our leader and his most trusted apprentices," she continued, a bitter edge returning to her voice. "In their hunger to keep all knowledge of the Force to themselves, they sought to rid the galaxy of us entirely. But they failed, and now we survive in hiding."
"And this Sith ambition of yours?"
"Well, if we resurrect the Sith Order—if we gain more knowledge of the ancient ones—we could establish ourselves as legitimate successors! The Jedi would have to respect our right to exist then. We could even join the Convocation of the Force!"
With every word that spilt from her mouth, my doubts that she was an actual Sith—or even a proper Dark Side cultist—grew. To be frank, she and her people sounded far more confused than genuinely dark.
"You do realise that the Jedi and the Sith waged many brutal wars against each other, right?"
"Yes, but that was with the Sith Empire," she argued defensively. "We would just be the Order."
"And you thought of this scheme all by yourself? Your Order doesn't approve?"
"They... did not think it wise, no."
"They may well have been right."
The woman frowned, creases marring her pale skin. "There has to be a way for us to exist in the open—not hidden away like worms beneath the earthen crust."
I sighed heavily as the situation finally clicked into place. Reaching out with the Force, I tossed her lightsaber back to her.
Her frown instantly turned to surprise as she caught it.
"You are no danger to me, nor are you a Sith," I said quietly. "Simply saying the words does not make you one of them. Return to your people, Hav'ranna. This search will not yield what you seek. The knowledge of the Sith is treacherous; do not delve too deep, for you will only find sorrow waiting for you."
"But how am I supposed to know what is too deep?" she demanded, clutching the weapon to her chest. "You claim to possess this knowledge, yet you refuse to teach me!"
I looked at her and reflected on her words.
Damn it, I was acting like a sanctimonious idiot, I thought with an internal sigh. Why was I being so harsh on someone simply for not knowing what I happened to know by sheer coincidence? A lack of knowledge should never be denigrated—only the refusal to learn.
I was being a jackass, too proud of my own knowledge when confronted with someone who lacked it. This did not mean I was obligated to teach her, but neither should I dismiss her based solely on her ignorance of historical facts that were clouded and hard to come by. I looked at the young woman, realising she wasn't even that old—probably not even twenty yet.
Letting my thoughts settle, I stepped closer. She watched me with a guarded expression as I approached.
Sitting down opposite her, I held out my hands. "Give me your hands, Hav'ranna."
She looked at me with a puzzled expression, but after a moment's hesitation, she moved to comply.
Taking both of her gloved hands in mine, I closed my eyes. "Open yourself to the Force. Let it flow through you," I instructed, doing the same.
Slowly, I could feel her doing as I asked. Our two Force presences merged into one, allowing me to gain a deeper insight into her—and, if she was paying attention, allowing her to sense me as well.
I searched my feelings, comparing how she felt in the Force to what I knew of the Dark Side—how it felt—searching for any trace of lies or deception. I found none.
Confusion, a touch of anger, aggression, fear, resolve, pride—she had all of these in abundance. Yet there was no seething hatred, no irrational malice, and no crushing terror.
Opening my eyes, I took a deep breath and released her hands.
"Tell me of your people, the Jensaarai, and tell me of yourself," I said. "Then I will determine if you are to be my apprentice. Speak truthfully and honestly."
I kept my voice calm, settling my feelings into balance as I searched the Force for an anchor.
As I bade her, so she spoke. She told me of the Jensaarai, the Followers of the Hidden Truth. She explained how their founder, a Jedi Knight named Nikos Tyris, had discovered ancient manuscripts written by Larad Noon—one of the original followers of Exar Kun—and how reading them had led him to question the history told by the Jedi Order.
Gathering a group of believers, Tyris took them to a hidden world in the Outer Rim to establish a base, where the teachings of Larad Noon were disseminated and taught to his followers. Styling themselves as true Jedi who believed the Order itself had abandoned its original traditions, the Jensaarai learned from the Sith manuscript.
At some point, a strike team of Jedi arrived, and in the ensuing conflict, Tyris and two of his most powerful apprentices were killed. The rest of the Jensaarai survived by hiding beneath a collapsed building, concealing their presence in the Force. That gave me an explanation as to how she had managed to lie in wait without me sensing her beforehand.
She spoke of the Saarai-kaar—the wife of one of the fallen apprentices—who had assumed that title and taken leadership of the Jensaarai in the wake of Tyris' death. She had taken charge and begun training the next generation in their ways of the Force.
The way Hav'ranna described it, the Jensaarai sounded far more like a genuine Jedi offshoot than a Dark Side cult. She was apparently an exception even among her own order, adhering to a more extreme interpretation of Larad Noon's manuscripts—though those teachings were now passed down only through oral retellings, as the original text had been lost with Tyris' death.
From my own understanding of the Force and how Hav'ranna described their practices, the cult actually possessed very little genuine knowledge of the Dark Side or Sith rituals. They were acting on half-remembered assumptions rather than actual instruction.
According to Hav'ranna, the Jensaarai at large still considered themselves to be aligned with the Light Side of the Force, with Hav'ranna being somewhat of an outlier. Although she had not been exiled, her journey here was an attempt to prove to her people that the Dark Side could be wielded for good—a belief rooted in her mistaken views on the true origins of the Sith.
Funnily enough, the Jensaarai did not so much try to be Sith as they emulated their aesthetic. They wore armour and generally favoured a more aggressive approach to combat, yet they remained firmly more aligned with their Jedi cousins than the Sith themselves. It seemed that in meeting Hav'ranna, I had stumbled upon their most radical member.
Releasing a soft sigh, I smiled slightly at the young woman sitting before me. Why had I been such an asshole to her? She needed guidance, and I could offer it. Her motives, beneath the layer of confused historical misinterpretations, were pure. Could I really deny her this?
"Hav'ranna, thank you for sharing your story with me," I said. "If you consent, I am willing to teach you what I know."
"Yes! I mean... I accept, Master," she corrected herself quickly, awkwardly performing a half-bow that looked rather comical from her seated position.
"I appreciate your enthusiasm, but before you accept, know this: I am a man with many secrets," I cautioned her. "As my apprentice, I need your word that you will guard them as if they were your own. I cannot take you on without mutual trust, nor can I keep you in the dark about what I am doing half the time."
"I promise I shall keep all your secrets," she said, nodding earnestly. "I've never met another Force user before—at least, not one who wasn't one of us. And... well, I am not particularly well-liked by my peers back home."
"Well, I certainly enjoyed our duel," I replied with a wry smile. "It may sound silly, but fighting someone is a good way to judge their character."
"Yes, Master."
"Ah, you don't have to call me Master. Adaar is fine," I said, before pausing. "I never actually introduced myself, did I? My name is Adaar Kryze. It's a pleasure to meet you, apprentice."
"Likewise, but I really must call you Master," she insisted politely. "You are my teacher, after all. It's tradition."
"Well... I suppose so, if it makes you feel more comfortable."
"Thank you."
"You do realise, of course, that being my apprentice will not be without its dangers?"
"I don't fear them."
"Then here is your first lesson: fear is useful. It keeps us alert," I countered gently. "It is never something to give in to, for fear is the silent death, but neither should you ever think yourself above it."
"I understand," she said, tilting her head. "Is that part of your code?"
"My code?"
"Like the Jedi and Sith codes? You knew the Sith Code, after all—and in ur-Kittât, no less."
My code?
I thought about it for a moment. I was usually not one to repeat mantras; knowing my own stance on the Force—how to use it and how to live alongside it—meant I had never felt the need to rely on a specific code.
Still, I suppose now that I had an apprentice, having a code to pass down wasn't the worst idea.
I pondered for a few moments while Hav'ranna watched me patiently.
A few words came to mind that fit my general philosophy rather well, I thought with an ironic smile. It tied together nicely with my Mandalorian heritage: the iron of body and mind, the strength of will, faith in oneself and one's comrades, and the honourable path of the warrior. The added layer of irony was certainly not lost on me either.
With an internal chuckle, I decided I might as well use it. If the shoe fits.
"Very well, apprentice. Sit up, listen closely, and listen well," I said, straightening my back and clearing my throat.
"From iron cometh strength."
"From strength cometh will."
"From will cometh faith."
"From faith cometh honour."
"From honour cometh iron."
"This is the Unbreakable Litany. May it forever be so."
Somehow, words that originally belonged to an entirely different galaxy had managed to cross the void, fitting seamlessly into the way I lived my life.