The Normandy's hull pulses, green veins threading through steel, a heartbeat not my own. I stumble down the CIC, my boots slipping on salt-slick decking, the air thick with the tang of drowned worlds. The galaxy map flickers, stars bleeding into an ocean, endless and black, its depths glowing with kyber shards like eyes in the void. My biotic implant burns, a low hum in my skull, but it's not enough to drown the whispers—alive, coiling, not Reaper, but hungrier. I grip my Predator, its weight real in my trembling hand, but the CIC warps, walls melting into a drowned ruin.
Something moves in the dark. A shadow, fluid, then gone, dissolving into mist. It's here, inside me, its voice a tide of oil, seeping through my thoughts. "Cycles spin beyond your stars, flesh yields to will." I shake my head, but the ocean presses closer, saltwater stinging my throat. The Normandy's gone, and I'm sinking, my N7 armor dragging me down, the Reaper's presence a weight I can't shake.
Miranda's face flickers, her dark hair framing eyes that cut through me, the Citadel's presidium glowing behind her. "Come back to me, John," she says, her voice soft, those last words before I chose Synthesis, before the Crucible's green light swallowed everything. But her eyes shift, glowing amber, six now, her lips curling into a smile that's not hers. "You left me," she whispers, her voice no longer hers, threading through my skull. "You broke a cycle, Shepard, and built another." My chest tightens, guilt a blade in my ribs. I fire the Predator, the shot swallowed by the ocean, and Miranda dissolves, her laugh a ripple in the dark.
The scene shifts, jagged, like a vid skipping frames. I'm in my Citadel apartment, the party before London, the crew's laughter a fragile shield against the Reaper War. Garrus leans on the bar, calibrating a bottle of turian brandy, his mandibles twitching with a grin. "You sure about this, Shepard? Earth's a big gamble." Liara's glyphs float, Prothean secrets dancing in her eyes, her voice steady. "We're with you Shepard, always." Wrex slams a fist on the table, krogan ale sloshing, roaring, "To hell with Reapers, we'll crush 'em!" Tali's mask glints, her nod, a quiet promise. It's home, this moment, the last before the Crucible's haunting revelations.
But the Reaper's tide creeps in. The apartment warps, walls bleeding green, the crew's faces twisting. Garrus's eyes glow amber, his rifle aimed at me, voice not his own. "You failed us, Shepard." Liara's glyphs burn, her form dissolving into tentacles. "Your choice doomed us." Wrex roars, his bulk morphing, a shadow with six eyes. "No clan, no honor, only you." Tali reaches for me, her mask cracking, revealing nothing but ocean. My biotics flare, a shockwave ripping through the dream, but the voice cuts deeper, direct now, no taunts, just truth. "Shepard, we chose as you did, merged flesh to machine, and fell. You repeat this failure!"
I'm drowning, the ocean a pulse of organic will, not machine, older than stars. It's not Reaper, but it knows me, knows Synthesis, knows the green light I unleashed. My implant screams, biotics surging, blue light shattering the tide. I see Anderson, his blood on my Predator, his voice steady. "Keep fighting, Shepard." Miranda's touch, her breath on my cheek, "Fight, John." I roar, biotics blazing, the ocean recoiling, the six amber eyes fading, its voice a fading echo. "Oceans hide truths, Shepard, where cycles sleep." The dream frays, Despoina's deep pulling back, and I'm—
Awake. The Cloister of Serenity's kyber panels pulsed faintly, their soft glow mocking the sweat soaking my undershirt. My N7 armor lay strewn across a cortosis table, a Corellian whiskey bottle tipped over, its amber pool catching the light. The Star of Ashla's hum vibrated through the Zakuulan silk draping my bunk, a low thrum like the dream's tide, but real, grounding. My biotic implant ached, a dull pulse in my skull, the dream's claws still scraping my thoughts.
I sat up, head pounding, the whiskey's sour burn lingering on my tongue. That dream wasn't Reaper, not like my normal nightmares—too alive, too hungry, like that drowned world where I faced… The thought caught like wild fire. Despoina's shadow, but worse, its voice probing, knowing. Synthesis, my choice, the green light that merged flesh and steel—it saw it, judged it. I rubbed my face, the stubble rough, trying to shake the ocean's weight. Where they here, in this galaxy, slipping through the void?
Last night's welcome home party crept into my mind, fragmented, a haze of swill and noise. The grand hall, Zakuulan chandeliers flickering, Jedi and Je'daii mingling like uneasy krogan clans. Ahsoka Tano, the Togruta who'd crossed my path last night, her hazel eyes sharp, montrals striped with purpose. "Shepard," she'd said, voice steady as a sniper's aim, "you say that you've fought machines that broke galaxies. We need that fire here." Her grip on my hand was firm, a leader's respect, not pity, her words cutting through the din. First time we met, and it felt like she saw right through my scars.
The others blurred—Rey's kind stare and smile, asking about Reapers and my galaxy constantly. Ezra's smirk, tossing out, "Biotics? Cute trick, Chief." Galen had clinked a glass of something non-alcoholic, Juno's coat draped on his chair, his nod saying more than words. Vicrul, drunk as a Hutt, had ranted about betrayal, nearly toppling a kyber lamp, his snarl drowned by laughter. Ahsoka's toast had anchored it, her voice rising, "To Shepard, who crossed stars to stand with us." I'd grinned, whiskey burning my throat, but the weight of their eyes—Jedi, Je'daii—had felt heavier than Cerberus's leash.
I swung my legs off the bunk, the Cloister's silk cool against my skin, the dream's echo louder than the party's ghost. That thing knew me, knew Synthesis, knew cycles. Was it watching, waiting, like the Reapers had? My implant pulsed, a reminder of the fight, the biotic flare that broke the tide. I needed answers, needed Vicrul, Galen, someone to—
The door chime sliced through, sharp as a blade. I froze, heart kicking like a Cain's recoil. The kyber panels dimmed, as if the Star sensed it. I stumbled to the door, whiskey haze slowing my steps, and palmed the control. The cortosis slab hissed open, revealing Revan, his mask a slab of durasteel resolve, robes crisp as if last night's whiskey-soaked revelry was a myth. His eyes, sharp behind the mask, carried a spark of urgency, but his voice held the warmth of a friend forged in fire. "Good, you're awake. There's something you need to see." I leaned against the cortosis frame of my room's door, the kyber panels' faint pulse mocking the ache in my skull.
"Sure, come in," I rasped, my throat raw from the dream's saltwater sting. I stumbled back into the chamber, the Zakuulan silk draping my bunk cool against my sweat-soaked undershirt. My N7 armor its red stripe dulled by spilled Corellian whiskey, the bottle tipped like a fallen soldier.
I shuffled to the caf machine, a sleek Je'daii contraption humming beside a kyber-lit console. Its hiss cut through the Star of Ashla's low thrum, a reminder this wasn't the Normandy. "Coff.. I mean, Caf?" I offered, punching the controls, the scent of roasted beans a faint anchor.
"No thanks," Revan said, his tone dry, clipped. He stepped inside, his boots silent on the silk rug, his presence filling the Cloister like one of his glowstick's hum. "This isn't a good time for pleasantries."
I snorted, the caf machine spitting dark liquid into a durasteel mug. "Urgent, huh? What's got you moving faster than a varren with a grenade?" My voice was steadier than I felt, the dream's tide still lapping at my mind.
Revan tilted his head, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "My High Sage's report. They've cleansed the Rakatan orb of its dark-side corruption. I've ordered the Sanctum of Anil Kesh to focus all efforts on reviving the supercomputer."
I paused, mug halfway to my lips, the caf's heat seeping through. "Sanctum? High Sage? You Je'daii and your titles—care to translate for newly awoken coma victim?"
His mask didn't shift, but I swore he smirked. "The Sanctum's our forge, where chaos bends to knowledge—like your Cerberus labs you speak of, but less likely to blow up. The High Sage shapes the flame, guiding our scholars and techs. You'll meet her." His words were clever, sparse, assuming I'd caught enough from the Star's crew to follow. He wasn't wrong.
I downed a gulp of caf, bitter and sharp, grounding me against the dream's echo. "Right. Lead the way, then." I grabbed my armor's chestplate, clamping it on, servos whirring as magnetic seals locked, the weight settling with a familiar ache. Revan didn't comment, just turned, his robes whispering as he led me out.
The Star of Ashla's corridors unfolded, a maze of Zakuulan grandeur and half-finished grit. Polished kyber panels gleamed beside exposed conduits, sparks raining from droid welders patching durasteel bulkheads. Rune-etched cortosis sculptures stood half-carved, their edges jagged, while kyber conduits pulsed like veins, their hum sharp with ozone. The deck vibrated under clanging construction, the air thick with the tang of molten metal. A Twi'lek Je'daii nodded to Revan, her lekku twitching; a droid hauled a crate of kyber shards, its servos whining. The ship was alive, evolving, a dreadnought clawing toward completion.
I kept pace with Revan, the caf mug warm in my hand, my boots scuffing the deck. "This place," I muttered, dodging a spark. "Feels like the Citadel mid-rebuild, but with more of those glowy rocks."
"Kyber," Revan corrected, not breaking stride. "It's the heart of the Force, and this ship. You'll get used to it." His tone was matter-of-fact, but the friendship beneath it steadied me.
We passed a viewport, Lehon's emerald jungles and shattered temples glinting below, stars framing the void. I thought of Miranda, her voice in the dream—accusing, warped. My implant pulsed, a dull ache, and I shoved the memory down. Revan's urgency wasn't panic, just eagerness, like a krogan scenting a fight. Whatever this orb was, it mattered.
The Sanctum of Anil Kesh loomed at the corridor's end, a massive cortosis arch carved with Je'daii runes, glowing faintly under kyber sconces. The doors hissed open, revealing a cavernous lab—R&D hub of the Star, a blend of tech and mysticism. Cortosis pillars framed holo-displays flickering with Rakatan glyphs, kyber conduits snaking across the ceiling, their pulse a low hymn. Workstations hummed, manned by robed Je'daii and clanking droids, while a central durasteel cradle held the orb, its cracked cortosis surface dull, kyber filaments weaving around it like a Prothean relic's cage.
A Miraluka woman approached, her veiled eyes hidden behind a silver visor, her robes flowing with kyber-threaded runes. Her presence was soft but commanding, radiating quiet power. "My Herald," she said to Revan, her voice a melody of reverence and steel. The High Sage, no doubt. Ahsoka Tano stood beside her, her montrals twitching, hazel eyes sharp as she nodded to me. Her blue robes gleamed under the Sanctum's light, a Jedi anchor in this Je'daii shrine.
"Shepard," Ahsoka said, her voice steady, echoing last night's toast. "You look like you've been beaten by a rancor." A faint smile, but her eyes scanned me, sensing the dream's weight.
"Its those damn drinks you were making," I muttered, sipping my caf, the bitter edge grounding me. The High Sage gestured to the orb's cradle, her visor glinting.
"The Vanguard of Evolution has worked tirelessly," she said, her tone precise. "After purging the dark-side corruption, we scanned the orb's matrix. It's functional but dormant. We've built this interface to house it for now, but it yields no response from anything we've tried."
I stepped closer, the orb's cracked surface catching the kyber light, its hum a faint echo in my bones. My implant pulsed, sharper now, and the Sanctum's hum shifted, a low thrum like the dream's tide. The orb flickered, a pulse of amber light, as if it saw me, knew me. My vision blurred, the world fading to haze.
The Sanctum dissolved, Ahsoka's voice a muffled hum, the High Sage's words drowned in static. Saltwater stung my lungs, the air thick with oil, and that voice—alive, ancient—slithered back throughout my skull. "Don't trust it. It lies. Only conquers." The orb's presence a lie woven into it's own heart, growing darker. My chest tightened, the dream's claws sinking deeper, pulling me under—
Ahsoka's hand gripped my shoulder, her voice sharp. "Shepard, you with us?" Reality snapped back, the Sanctum's kyber light harsh, the orb dull again, its flicker gone. I blinked, sweat beading on my brow, the caf mug trembling in my hand.
"Yeah," I croaked, meeting Ahsoka's gaze, then Revan's. The High Sage's visor tilted, curious, but she said nothing. The orb's hum lingered, a warning in my bones, and I knew—whatever it held, the truth was hungrier than any Reaper..
The Sanctum of Anil Kesh stands still, its cortosis pillars gleaming under pulsing kyber conduits, holo-displays frozen mid-flicker with Rakatan glyphs. Shepard grips his trembling caf mug, sweat beading on his brow, eyes locked on the orb's now-dull surface, its amber flicker gone. Ahsoka's hand rests on his shoulder, her montrals tilted, hazel eyes narrowed with concern. The High Sage's silver visor reflects the orb's cradle, her stance poised, reverent. Revan, mask aglow, stands apart, his durasteel gaze unreadable, hands clasped behind his robes.
Shepard gripped his trembling caf mug, sweat beading on his brow, eyes locked on the orb's now-dull surface, whatever that flicker was, gone. A cold ripple shuddered through the Force, pricking my spine like Malachor's shadow. Something stirred the Force, ancient, hungry, beyond the orb's cracked shell. I stepped forward, the Sanctum's hum a hymn in my bones, my boots silent on the cortosis floor. My fingers twitched, a crack in my mask's stoicism, as I reached for the cradle. The orb flared, red glyphs spiraling across its surface, a holographic matrix blooming like the Temple of the Ancients' core—cylindrical, towering, its cortosis frame pulsing with crimson light, Rakatan runes dancing in the air. A wrathful chorus erupted, the voice of the Rakata, eternal and unyielding.
"Deceiver!" it boomed, the Sanctum trembling. "You've destroyed everything! Traitor, who plundered our Forge, you dare stand before us?"
Ahsoka's montrals stiffened, her gaze darting to me, suspicion flickering like a saber's edge. Shepard's mug steadied, his eyes narrowing, but the High Sage's visor gleamed, hands trembling as she scribed the moment, a scientist before history's veil. The interface surged, glyphs flaring as if summoning it's previous home's defenses, a dark-side pulse to rend flesh, but nothing came. The matrix sputtered, red light dimming, the voice faltering.
"What… what is this place?" it demanded, confusion threading its chorus. "Where have you brought us, betrayer?"
I lowered my hands, the Force steadying my voice. "The Star of Ashla, a Je'daii sanctum orbiting Lehon. Your temple is gone, but we've restored you, seeking answers." Honesty was my blade, atonement my shield. "I wronged you, Rakata, plundering the Star Forge to end wars. I seek balance now, the Gray, to right those sins."
The matrix pulsed, scorn rippling through its glyphs. "Balance? The Gray? Je'daii!?" it sneered, a chorus of a trillion slaves' masters. "Empires crush the weak, deceiver! Conquest is our blood, our will! Your weakness mocks our Infinite reign!" The Rakata's arrogance, forged in untold worlds' subjugation, burned through every word, unyielding as the plague that broke them.
Ahsoka's hand lingered near her saber, her silence heavy. Shepard shifted, caf mug forgotten. The High Sage's stylus paused, her awe unshaken by the Rakata's wrath. I pressed forward, the Elder's gasp echoing in my mind, a terror I couldn't shake. "In the Temple, one of your Elders saw my memories—visions of shattered moons of ice, screeches in the Force that grind the senses. They then gasped in terror, 'The Thalassians,' they muttered only to break the vision. Who are these 'Thalassians', speak of what you know."
The matrix dimmed, glyphs freezing, the chorus silent for a heartbeat. "Impossible," it whispered, a tremor in its unity. "They are extinct, dead, never to rise. A lie woven by weak minds."
Shepard stepped forward, voice sharp. "That sounds like it could be a problem."
The High Sage's visor snapped up, her hands clutching her scribe, the Thalassian name a spark in her Force-sense. Ahsoka's eyes met mine, questioning, but steady. The matrix flared again, red light bathing the Sanctum, its voice a tide of memory. "Invaders, they came at a time early in our empire's growth, cloaked as refugees from beyond our stars. Their power swelled, a tide we could not abide. We, the Rakata, conquerors of all, waged war. Their world of claim, Archeon, housed our Tidebreaker's Aegis—a dark-side bastion chaining their portal-gate, severing their traversal of our galaxy. For they were outside the power of Kra'eth and could not use our Kra'vath's paths of power. We froze their forms in eternal crypts of frost, orbiting graves around the worlds they defiled. Their minions, the Zel'thar, shape-weavers who melted into shadows, fled underground, vermin unworthy of our efforts."
I gripped my robes, the Elder's terror a blade in my mind. "The Thalassians," I muttered, the name a weight heavier than any saber. Moons shattering, Force wails keening, cycles older than the Rakata's empire—what had that elder seen? The vision had fractured, leaving only dread, a shadow I couldn't outrun. My atonement, my balance, demanded I face it.
The computer's glyphs spun, unyielding. "They are dust, deceiver. Why dredge this ancient nonsense?"
"Where is Archeon?" I pressed, voice steady. "We must know, now."
The supercomputer's glyphs pulsed, crimson light bleeding across the Sanctum of Anil Kesh, its voice a tide of scorn. "You, who betrayed our Elders, dare demand information from us? Your efforts are all for not, Liar. We'll save you the embarrassment, Archeon lies far in what you call Wild Space, its paths of power shattered by our will, a location no ship can charter."
I stepped closer, the Force a steady hum in my bones, my mask's gaze unyielding. "Your empire spanned Lehon, its cities like Zha-Korran lost to us, buried beneath jungle's choke. Where is it's location, what secrets did you empire shield there?" My words cut sharp, tempered by months of chasing ghosts since the star map's fractured coordinates taunted us. The question wasn't a plea—it was a lever, prying at the Rakata's pride.
The matrix flared, glyphs coiling tight, a serpent ready to strike. "Zha-Korran? You dare speak its name, deceiver? A jewel of our dominion, its Causeways of Triumph gleaming beneath our heel, connecting all Rakata Prime's paths, not yours to plunder and defile!" The voice roared, a supernova of arrogance, each syllable dripping with the Infinite Empire's faded glory. I felt the weight of its wrath, a storm born of conquest, unyielding even in ruin.
Ahsoka broke the tension, her voice a low thread weaving through the chaos, steady as beskar. "I saw one of those shape-weavers on Lehon, a Veiled Covenant's leader change from human to.. something else before attacking us." Her montrals stood rigid, her words carved from the memory of that ambush—the Force rippled with her intent.
The orb shuddered, its chorus splintering, a crack in its unity. "The Zel'thar!" it spat, the name a hiss of alien fear. "They've found it—the backdoor in Zha-Korran!" Holo-glyphs erupted, spinning wild before settling into a vision of Lehon pristine: Spires of Dominion stabbed the sky, Causeways of Triumph's roadways stretched unbroken, Rakatan dominance unquestioned. "Zha-Korran, the beating heart of our commerce, holds this spark of our empire, a portal network forged in our dominion."
My breath caught, the Force surging like a tide crashing against a dam. "Could this network get us to Archeon?" The planet's name echoed, another shard of truth from the star maps we have obtained, its information all but the coordinates locked in my mind yet maddeningly incomplete. This was the key—I could feel it. "The coordinates, give them to us."
Shepard's voice grinding like gravel over steel. "If this teleporter network's real, point us to it. My galaxy's seen invaders worse than your Thalassians—Reapers, Collectors, you name it." His tone carried the weight of scars etched in a commander who'd stared down annihilation and walked away.
The matrix flared again, glyphs snapping into sharper lines. "Your galaxy? Your words come from their source, interloper, your blood tainted by the Force's excommunication, influenced by their shadow!" The accusation landed heavy, kyber's wrath in its resonance, pinning Shepard's origins like a specimen under glass.
He didn't blink, jaw tight, implant flaring brighter. "I defeated the Reapers, brought peace to my galaxy. Call me tainted again, and I'll show you what this 'interloper' can do." His words were a blade, forged in the crucible of war. The Sanctum's air thickened, droids twitching as his biotic aura shimmered—a warning flare, brief but unmistakable.
The High Sage's hands shook, her quill scratching faster, awe a quiet fire in her stance. A scientist caught in history's pull. The orb dimmed, its crimson glyphs flickering like embers in a dying pyre, suspicion coiling in its silence. "You, deceiver, who burned our Star Forge to ash, shattered our empire's heart—why should we trust a traitor with Zha-Korran's spoils?" The chorus roared, a supernova of scorn, each word a lash for the Infinite Empire's ruin. I felt the weight of the Star Forge's collapse under my command, its dark-side hunger extinguished by Republic fire—a legacy I'd razed to save the galaxy, but to the Rakata, a betrayal that buried their glory.
I stepped closer, the Force a steady tide in my veins, my mask unyielding. "Your empire crumbled long before my arrival to your temple, undone by plague and pride. The Thalassians do call out, their awakening a blade at your legacy's throat. Refuse me, and watch your ancient foe rise to dance on your empire's ashes." My voice was iron, honed by the Revanchist's wars, probing their arrogance like a saber seeking a flaw.
The matrix flared, glyphs snapping into jagged lines. "Empires crush the weak, not coddle them!" it bellowed, the voice of a trillion slaves' masters. "You sided with the Elders, weaklings who shunned our conquest, and turned our Forge to ruin! Your Gray is cowardice, a lie to mask your treachery!" The Sanctum trembled, kyber conduits spitting sparks, the Rakata's wrath a storm born out of hundreds of worlds' dominion.
Ahsoka's montrals twitched, her silence heavy, but Shepard shifted. The High Sage's quill scratched faster, her visor glinting, a scientist caught in history's crucible. I held my ground. "The Veiled Covenant have gone to ground again, and they seek Archeon, your refusal aids them. Give us Zha-Korran, or your empire's echo dies with the Covenant's disappearance."
The chorus laughed, a bitter rasp, like a star collapsing into void. "You, who betrayed our Elders, stole their trust to burn our glory—why yield our secrets to a serpent?" Its glyphs pulsed, a serpent's coil, daring me to falter.
I leaned in, the Force a whip's crack, my voice a calculated lure. "A temple on Tython, your chorus eternal when we, the Je'daii, reclaim it. A throne to rival your Star Forge's might. Aid us, stop the Thalassians, the Covenant, and your legacy stays preserved, not laid to ruin but a memorial to your glory." The offer was atonement and gambit, baiting their pride with a vision of glory reborn, my debt for the Forge's ashes woven into the bargain.
Ahsoka's eyes narrowed, her voice a saber's hum, slow and deliberate. "Tython's no prize for just the Je'daii, Revan. The Jedi scouted it several times before, the ravaging storms found on planet and in it's hyperspace lanes broke any of our attempts to resettle it. The Clone Wars taught me ambition like yours can fracture alliances. You don't speak for the Jedi Council when you barter our past." Her protest burned, rooted in scars from Anakin's fall and the Council's collapse, a calculated challenge to my play. Her loyalty was a beskar wall, unyielding yet tempered, no threats, only truth.
I met her gaze, the Force sparking with intent. "The Jedi found myth, Ahsoka, but balance demands Tython's truth. The Council falters, blind to the Force's coming tide, but you see it. Trust me, and they'll follow your lead." My words were a bridge unspoken, a strategy veiled in my chest.
The matrix surged, glyphs bleeding scorn. "Your Gray is a lie, deceiver! Conquest forges empires, not your weak harmony! You burned our Forge, left Lehon's heart in ashes—your promises are vapor!" The chorus roared, a tide of conquest unbowed by the plague that shattered their empire.
I pressed, voice unyielding, the Elder's dread a pulse in my skull. "The Thalassians are very much so here. Their frozen prisons stir, shattering moons in the process. Some of them populated while the debris causes havoc to the system around it. Zha-Korran's location now, or this time I make sure your empire's legacy is lost to the archives of history."
The orb dimmed, glyphs trembling, its chorus wary, pride warring with survival. "Fine. Your terms, deceiver, but glory binds us." It yielded, holo-glyphs locking into place. "Zha-Korran's path is yours." The display flared, coordinates streaming, Causeways of Triumph, jungle-choked, threading to the ancient city, a portal network pulsing beneath Lehon.
The High Sage stepped forward, visor gleaming, her voice firm with fire. "I'll transmit this to the Nexus at once, Herald," she said, fingers dancing over the console, sending the data to the Astral Cartography Nexus.
I activated my comms, the Sanctum's hum a weight on my ribs. "Dren'var, the Nexus has the coordinates of where we're going next. Adjust orbit above Zha-Korran, redirect excavation teams efforts. No delays."
His voice crackled back, sharp as a Chiss blade, fealty a honed edge. "Nexus confirmed updated, my Herald. Orbit shifting, teams mobilizing to the Port of the Cosmos to prep for mission."
The Sanctum's kyber consoles pulsed, their green glow fractured by the holo-map's crimson lines—Zha-Korran's Causeways of Triumph, a buried spark to Archeon's hidden truths. I faced Ahsoka, her montrals rigid, eyes like beskar glinting with challenge. "Ahsoka, your Council's waiting—Zha-Korran's discovery changes everything. Do you have any thoughts on this approach?"
Her lips tightened, voice sharp as a saber's edge. "My thoughts? You drop 'reclaim Tython for the Je'daii' like it's nothing, Revan, and expect me to blindly sell the idea to my Order? I've seen ambition like yours fracture orders—Anakin taught me that. The Council deserves a say in a proposal like this, not your summons." Her words cut, Clone Wars scars bared, her role as a Jedi Council member fraying trust between our mutual understandings, an alliance born out of a shared threat only.
Shepard stepped in, boots scuffing cortosis, implant flickering. "Hey, ease up. I've talked down krogan warlords—let me go back with you to see Rey and Ezra, Ahsoka. Keep this from blowing up." His tone was rough, a leader's pragmatism cutting through dogma. I tilted my head, a spark of amusement behind my mask. "Careful, Shepard, you're a breath from reciting Je'daii vows as my Voice." His low laugh was a flicker of his old fire, but his stance screamed he'd never bend to anyone's doctrine—his own commander, always.
Ahsoka's gaze lingered, doubt a storm behind her eyes. "We'll talk, Revan—but the Council deserves a say on what happens with Tython. Expect push back." She turned, steps clipped, heading to her Jedi peers—her envoy's burden heavy. The Tython gambit—my unilateral cast—stirred echoes of a warning her of ambition's cost. As she moved for the Jedi envoy, her silence was a blade, promising the Council's scrutiny. Her loyalty a wall I'd yet to breach.
Shepard followed, his N7 boots steady on cortosis floors. His gaze flicked to me, a commander's nod forged in wars I'd never know, his resolve a quiet anchor to Ahsoka's tempest. The Thalassian accusation lingered in his stance. I turned to the Sanctuary of the Herald, Vicrul and Galen's chambers a distant call through the Sanctum's haze. The Thalassian's prisons—frost-wreathed, undying—loomed in my mind, their truth a tide I'd face in Archeon's depths. My atonement demanded it, a path carved through sins I couldn't outrun.
As Revan's shadow lingered in the Sanctum's kyber hum, Ahsoka's steps carried the weight of a galaxy teetering on the edge of forgotten truths.
The Sanctum's cortosis doors hissed shut behind me, sealing away Revan's masked arrogance and that orb's bitter snarl. My boots struck the Star of Ashla's deck, each step grinding into durasteel. The air stung my nose—my montrals hummed, catching the ship's pulse—kyber conduits bolted to the walls flickered green, their buzz a blade against my skull. Revan's Tython gamble burned in my chest, bold as Anakin's grin before he fractured everything. I didn't need another warlord bringing the galaxy toward yet another collapse.
Shepard trailed me, his N7 armor clanking, a faint hum trailing him—not the Force, but something alive, jagged, like a holocomm on the fritz. I felt it in my montrals, sharp and alien. The corridor sprawled ahead, a half-built beast of Zakuulan shine and raw grit. Kyber panels gleamed beside exposed conduits, droid welders spitting sparks that danced like blaster bolts on Felucia. A Rodian crewman cursed in Huttese, wrestling a crate of kyber shards that glinted like shattered stars, while a clanking astromech dodged his boots, beeping indignantly. Through a viewport, Lehon's jungles sprawled—emerald ruins under a lightning-filled sky, jagged as the Temple's fall.
"You make fashionable exits like that often?" Shepard's voice cut through, rough as gravel, last night's whiskey's still clinging to his breath. "Or is Revan's mask just that punchable?"
I tilted my head, a faint smile tugging my lips. "Only when someone's dreaming bigger than a Hutt's ego." My tone was dry, sharpened by years dodging blaster bolts, but his low laugh—a rumble like a ship's engine—eased the tension in my shoulders. He moved with a warrior's ease, eyes scanning the chaos, but that unknown hum that was familiar yet estranged flickered, unsteady, carrying a shadow heavier than his gear.
"Revan's Tython claim," I said, sidestepping a puddle of spilled hydraulic fluid, its tang sharp in my throat. "It's bold. Too bold. Stinks of ambition that leads to corruption. I've seen break better men." Anakin's laugh echoed in my mind, his saber flashing before Coruscant choked on smoke. I shoved it down, my montrals twitching. "He's fooling himself if he thinks it's only his to claim."
Shepard, sidestepping a coil of sparking conduit, its ozone tang sharp in the air. "Sounds like he's trying to herd varren with ambition like that. You think he's got a shot?" His eyes met mine, keen despite his hangover's haze, searching like he'd faced down worse than Jedi politics.
I arched a brow, my sabers' weight steady at my belt. "Not without a fight. Dreams like his break worlds—whole governments, too." My voice softened, Coruscant's Temple smoke flashing—younglings' cries, silenced. Revan wasn't Anakin, but that spark, that need to reshape the stars, cut too close. "He'll need more than empty promises and words to sway us."
We reached a turbolift, its cortosis doors scraping open, the hum muffling the ship's clamor. Inside, the air was thick, stale with burnt circuits, like the bolt-holes I'd crouched in after Order 66. My montrals caught Shepard's hum, sharper now, a rhythm that screamed secrets. "That ocean you mentioned," I said, leaning against the wall, voice low, probing gently. "What's haunting you? You looked like you saw a specter back there."
He smirked, armor shifting as he crossed his arms. "Rough night, Tano. Not only your drinks, but Vicrul's swill hits hard too." His dodge was smooth, but his eyes darkened. I pressed, my tone steady. "Dreams don't make you look like that. Spill, or I'll start guessing."
He laughed, short and rough. "Good luck. My head's a mess even I don't touch." He paused, jaw tight, voice dropping. "A voice, old, not one I fully recognize. Knew my past, my… choices. Felt like it's here, watching us." His hand grazed his armor, a burden I sensed but couldn't touch. The lift jolted, doors peeling back to a hall of Zakuulan chandeliers, their kyber crystals casting shadows like saber strikes. My montrals twitched, catching Ezra's laugh—sharp, skeptical—then Rey's voice, steady as beskar. The Grand Conference Room loomed, Revan's Conclave of Equilibrium, its obsidian doors etched with Je'daii sigils, a stage for the Council's deliberations. The deck quaked, Lehon's storms glaring through a viewport, ruins sprawling like bones I'd buried. Duty settled on my shoulders, heavier than my sabers, Revan's gambit a fracture I had to seal.
Shepard nudged me, his grin all soldier's grit. "Go get 'em, Tano. You're scarier than my old CO."
I flashed a smirk, lekku swaying. "Stick close, Commander. I might need you to talk the ears off my colleagues." My words were light, but Malachor's weight—Maul's red eyes, the Order's collapse. I wasn't that rogue hiding in shadows anymore. I was the Council's voice, their blade, and Revan's Tython stunt wouldn't break us.
The doors hissed open, Rey's saber hilt glinting, Ezra's hilt at rest, Kesh's eyes warm but wary. Their gazes hit me—a storm ready to break. Shepard stood at my side, his strange hum a faint anchor, the Thalassian shadow looming like a tide we'd face soon enough. This moment would be defining for our Jedi Order. Do we hand over Tython or stand up to for the light and our Jedi birthright.
The Conclave of Equilibrium stretched before us, a Zakuulan cathedral of cortosis and kyber, its polished panels gleaming under chandeliers that cast prismatic light across the chamber. Polished cortosis panels gleamed under Zakuulan chandeliers, their crystal facets refracting light like stars trapped in a void. The central holotable pulsed with a faint crimson, its surface etched with Je'daii runes that seemed to whisper of ancient wars. The air carried the tang of ozone, sharp and clean, a stark contrast to the weight pressing against my chest as I stepped inside, Shepard following in behind me.
Rey stood by the holotable, her cream robes catching the kyber light, her hazel eyes warm but guarded, a diplomat's poise honed by years of leading the New Jedi Council. Ezra lounged against a cortosis pillar, his slate-blue robes creased, a smirk playing on his lips as he tossed a kyber shard between his hands. Kesh, his Loth-wolf, lay at his feet, amber eyes glinting, a low rumble in his throat as he sensed my tension. Huyang stood rigid, his silver chassis etched with runes, his photoreceptors narrowing as he noted Shepard's approach. The memory of last night's welcome party hung between us—Ezra's quips, Rey's earnest questions, Shepard's gruff charm under the chandeliers' glow.
"Ahsoka," Rey said, her voice steady, stepping forward. "You rushed out of the Council meeting this morning like the Force itself was chasing you. Care to share?" Her tone was gentle, but her eyes searched mine, sensing the news I carried.
Ezra's smirk widened, the kyber shard pausing mid-toss. "Yeah, what's got you spiraling, Snips? Spill it—Revan's throwing another party?" His wit cut through the tension, but his gaze flicked to Shepard, a nod of familiarity. "Back from the rotgut shots, Chief? Not quite ready to keep up with us Jedi?"
Shepard's lips twitched, his hand resting on his pistol. "Barely. Your idea of a party could wake a Hutt. I'll be ready for round two." His voice still a little groggy.
I took a breath, the kyber hum resonating in my chest, Anakin's shadow lurking in Revan's words, "The Jedi spin myth, Ahsoka, but balance demands Tython's truth." My sabers hung heavy at my hips with the idea of the words to come. "We've found Zha-Korran," I said, my voice low, cutting through the chamber's hum. "The ancient city we've been hunting has been hiding some Rakatan teleport network to the planet Archeon all along—the world's hyperlanes corrupted on purpose by the Rakata long ago."
The chamber stilled, the holotable's glow flickering as if the Force itself held its breath. Rey's brow furrowed, her calm fraying. Ezra's smirk vanished, the kyber shard clattering to the floor. Kesh's ears flicked, a soft growl rumbling as the weight of my words settled.
"Archeon?" Huyang's voice was dry, his photoreceptors glinting. "The Rakata's dominion was vast, but such a world is myth, most likely lost to their hubris." His gravitas carried a warning, his runes catching the light.
I pressed on, my montrals rigid, the Sanctum's revelations a blade in my mind. "The Rakata faced invaders—The Thalassians, cloaked as refugees from beyond our galaxy. The Rakata waged war, froze the Thalassians in ice-moons orbiting the worlds where ever they were found. Those are the moons that are shattering now, their debris tearing through systems as we all know. If what's inside these moons is what the Rakata feared, and they're waking up, it could shift the galaxy's balance."
Ezra leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Hold up. The Rakata? As in, long-dead, fossilized warlords? How do we even know this? Don't tell me Revan revived that thing we brought back from the surface." His tone was sharp, but the seriousness beneath it betrayed his concern, his hand brushing Kesh's fur. "We barley made it out of that temple to begin with."
I met his gaze, the kyber hum a pulse in my skull. "Yes, he brought their supercomputer back to life using that orb, here on the Star of Ashla. It's how we got all this intel—Zha-Korran, Archeon, the Thalassians. The teleporter network in Zha-Korran is the only lead to a Rakatan station orbiting Archeon, a dark-side bastion chaining the Thalassians' portal-gate."
Rey's hand gripped the table's edge, her voice tight. "Revan resurrected a Rakata supercomputer? Ahsoka, that's beyond reckless—it's incredibly dangerous." Her compassion warred with her Council authority, her eyes darting to Shepard as if seeking his soldier's pragmatism.
Huyang's chassis whirred, his tone chiding. "Indeed. The Rakata's malice was boundless—such a machine could harbor their conquest's echo." He tilted his head, photoreceptors fixed on me. "They would wanted something in return. What price did Revan pay for this knowledge?"
I hesitated, Revan's words a tide pulling me under, "Trust me, and they'll follow your lead." My fingers brushed my saber hilt, the weight of Anakin's fall a ghost in my chest. "He made a deal," I said, my voice heavy. "Revan vowed to house the supercomputer's consciousness in a shrine on Tython—a digital beacon for their legacy"
The chamber froze, the kyber conduits dimming as if the Force recoiled. Ezra's jaw dropped. Rey's eyes widened, her breath catching. Kesh rose, his growl a low thunder, amber eyes glinting at the mention of Tython. Shepard shifted, his voice cutting through the silence. "What's so special about this Tython place that has Mask Man risking upsetting you folks over?"
Huyang stepped forward, his runes gleaming, his voice laced with Clone Wars-era gravitas. "Tython is no mere planet, Commander. It was the cradle of the Je'daii, the ancient order that birthed the Jedi, balancing light and dark before the Sith's shadow fell. This very frigate, the Star of Ashla, bears the name of Tython's light-side moon, Ashla, as Bogan embodies its dark." He turned to Ezra, photoreceptors narrowing. "Master Bridger, perhaps if you'd attended my history lessons instead of chasing Loth-wolves, you'd recall this."
Ezra snorted, but his eyes stayed sharp. "Yeah, yeah, I know the holocron stories, Huyang. But why Tython? It's a nightmare to get to, barely livable." His voice held a edge, his hand on Kesh's flank.
I sighed, the kyber hum a weight on my montrals. "Revan intends to reclaim it—for the Je'daii." The words slipped out, heavy as beskar, Revan's ambition like the very storms on the planet he seeks.
Ezra barked a laugh, his wit resurfacing. "Reclaim it for the Je'daii? Guess he's tired of roasting in Mustafar's lava pit. Guy certainly knows how to make a statement." But his eyes betrayed his unease, flicking to Kesh, who paced now, tail low.
Rey's voice cut through, firm, her Council authority unyielding. "Absolutely not. Ezra's right, Tython's hyperspace lanes are a death trap—Nihil storms have made them unstable for years. Even if it were habitable, the Council must have a say in this, not Revan's universal claim like he's some conqueror." She reached for the holotable's comms, her fingers hovering over the call button.
I grabbed her wrist, my grip gentle but firm, Revan's words echoing, "The Council falters, blind to the Force's tide." The kyber hum surged, a pulse like Anakin's heartbeat before he fell, a warning I couldn't ignore. "Rey," I said, my voice low, "you and Ezra need to take this to Ossus. Tell the Council in person. And take the padawans—Tayra included."
Rey's eyes searched mine, the Force humming with her empathy, sensing the storm in my heart. "Of course, Ahsoka," she said softly, her diplomat's calm returning. "If you believe this is the path the Force has laid out." She paused, turning to Shepard, a cheeky smile breaking through. "Try not to break anything, Commander."
Shepard's lips quirked, a soldier's grin. "No promises, but I'll keep the damage to a minimum."
Ezra stepped forward, his voice sharp, serious now. "Ahsoka, I'm not leaving. Kesh and I are in this—Zha-Korran's too big to walk away from. Let me see this through." His hand tightened on Kesh's fur, his loyalty burning bright, his eyes pleading.
Rey turned, her authority cutting like a saber. "No, Ezra. You'll report to the Council in person with me. You went into that temple and helped Revan bring back that orb. The others will want a first hand account. Prep the padawans within the hour. Force be with you, Ahsoka." Her tone brooked no argument, her gaze softening as she nodded to me, then led Ezra toward the chamber's doors.
Ezra muttered, "Fine, but Kesh better get a say next time," his wit a thin shield as he followed, Kesh padding at his side. Huyang trailed them, his chassis whirring, muttering about "impetuous Jedi." The cortosis doors hissed shut, leaving the chamber's hum to fill the silence.
I turned to Shepard as he leaned against the holotable, a faint grin breaking through. "Well, glad I was here to keep you Jedi from starting a war over some sacred rock."