As Vilyam and Deon stood positioned before the large wooden doors that served as the entrance to the central chamber, they were able to discern the sound of shuffling feet and the steady, yet noticeably tight, breaths coming from within.
Knight Gnossian gave a gesture indicating that they should hold their position, and then proceeded to stand directly in front of the door.
After what felt like an extended stretch of tense moments, where the sounds originating from within seemed to intensify and escalate, they suddenly fell silent, the atmosphere inside becoming instantly tranquil before a rough but firm voice suddenly rang out from the other side.
"You may enter!"
With a silent, almost supernatural grace, the heavy wooden doors swung inward, as if guided by some unseen force, revealing a towering Cathar man suspended in mid-air.
His legs were neatly crossed, and his long, flowing robes billowed around him, creating a dramatic effect.
Above his waist, a series of intricate mechanical components floated effortlessly, accompanied by a single, radiant orange crystal that pulsed with an inner light, resembling a miniature star.
Vilyam's eyes fell upon the crystal, his very being seemingly drawn to it and it was only when the Cathar spoke into his mind.
"I sense great potential in you young one! Come forth and let me see you."
Vilyam slowly moved forward, unaware of the apprehensive look on Deon's face and the hand reaching for him only to just barely miss.
The Cathar Master Jedi swept his piercing yellow eyes over Vilyam as he moved closer, but it was as if he was looking at him with more than just paltry vision; his cat-like eyes bored into the young Vilyam like he could see into his very soul.
"Hello... Mr Master sir..."
Vilyam spoke, his voice giving off a slight tremble in the intimidating face of Master Adega.
Adega let out a soft chuckle that rang so low it vibrated Vilyam's eardrums before once more speaking directly into the young boys mind.
"Would you like to become a Jedi young one?"
Vilyam nodded slowly, his sapphire blue eyes shimmering with childlike wonder as he watched Master Adega reconstruct his lengthy cylindrical lightsaber in a methodical manner, each component locking into place with surgical precision before the weapon floated back to the strap at his waist.
Deon stepped forward behind Vilyam, placing his hands on his son's shoulders in a protective manner.
"Master Adega, he is my son and I love him dearly, I know that this is an amazing opportunity for my son but I have heard stories and rumors that upon becoming a Jedi children are no longer allowed to see their parents!"
The Master's eyes rose to meet Deon's, his gaze as thoughtful as it was intimidating.
"Mr Rax isn't it? Your son is too old to forget you and you live just outside of the city so it would be... It would be Rather unkind of me to not allow visitation, not to mention drive an emotional wedge between me and the boy!"
The Cathar Master let out a long sigh before continuing.
"If it is fortune or misfortune that this is the case, I have yet to discern which, but I will allow you and his lovely mother to visit him on a monthly basis, as any more would potentially risk his training!"
Deon let out a sigh of relief, his gaze returning to his son.
"Me and your momma love you, never forget that, so please come around the farm and visit whenever you get the chance. She will make your favorite Mud Yak pie, and you can tell us how you've been."
Knight Gnossian walked up next to Deon and gestured him politely towards the door. He bowed respectfully towards the father of their latest initiate as he walked back out of the doors, leaving his only son in the capable hands of the Jedi, tears streaming down his eyes.
Vilyam too had tears trickling down from his eyes as he watched his father, the man who had raised him walk across the courtyard.
Dad... I'll visit as often as I can, count on it!
After thinking this, Vilyam turned back towards Master Adega, who was lowering himself to the ground, the cloak he wore falling around him as his clawed feet touched down.
"Come with me!"
Master Adega spoke with a raspy voice and vibrating voice that Vilyam could practically feel in his bones before turning to a side door.
Following Master Adega through the doorway, with Knight Gnossian bringing up the rear, Vilyam found himself entering a chamber that appeared to be dedicated to personal training. The room featured what seemed to be one-way windows, offering a view of an outdoor training yard where he could discern two young Jedi practicing with wooden swords.
Back inside the training room Master Adega gestured for Vilyam to take a seat on the floor.
"As I've mentioned before, I truly believe that you possess a tremendous amount of potential within yourself. And as your Master, it is my solemn duty and responsibility to guide you and assist you in realizing that potential. My hope is that one day you will indeed become the very best among all Jedi!"
After saying this Master Adega gestured towards an singular holocron embedded in a nearby wall, the glowing device settling before his open hand.
"Take this and learn its contents. It is a history of the Jedi going back to the Civil War that nearly destroyed us all thousands of years ago!"
The holocron slowly drifted into the space directly before Vilyam, its crystalline locks gracefully unfurling as if responding to the subtle command of Master Adega.
Vilyam felt as if tendrils of pure thought and memory were attempting to reach into his mind, his initial reaction was to reject it but after seeing the look of struggle on Vilyam's face Master Adega gently guided him.
"Don't resist, let it flow like water into a sieve!"
Vilyam's face relaxed and the tendrils began flowing into his mind like many small rivers flow into the sea.
The world did not vanish.
It unraveled.
The chamber, the walls, Master Adega, even the steady presence of Knight Gnossian, all of it peeled away like paint stripped from reality, leaving Vilyam suspended in a vast, endless dark.
For a single, fragile moment… there was nothing.
No sound.
No weight.
No breath.
Then, a pulse.
Low.
Heavy and ancient.
It echoed through him, not around him.
He stood upon scorched ground.
The sky above churned with violent storms, streaks of crimson lightning tearing through blackened clouds.
The air tasted of ash and something sharper… something wrong.
Figures surrounded him.
Hundreds.
No... thousands.
They stood divided.
On one side, warriors clad in robes of calm colors, their stances measured, their eyes resolute.
Blades of blue and green ignited in unison, humming like a chorus of restrained power.
On the other…
Darkness given form.
Robes of black and crimson.
Eyes burning with ambition, with fury, with something far more dangerous than either.
Their blades ignited not in harmony…
But in hunger.
Red.
So much red.
Vilyam felt it immediately.
The difference.
The weight of it.
The pull.
And at the center of the opposing force stood one figure.
Tall.
Commanding.
Unyielding.
His presence bent the battlefield around him like gravity itself had chosen a side.
Ajunta Pall.
Though no one spoke his name, Vilyam knew.
The knowledge did not come as a thought.
It was given.
Pressed into his mind like a brand.
Ajunta Pall raised his blade, its crimson glow bleeding into the storm-torn sky.
"We will not kneel to weakness!" his voice thundered, not merely heard but felt, reverberating through bone and spirit alike.
"The Force is not balance, it is power! And power belongs to those strong enough to seize it!"
A ripple passed through the Dark Jedi ranks, a wave of savage agreement.
Across from them, the Jedi army stood firm.
Silent.
Resolute.
Unmoving as mountains before a storm.
And then, everything shattered into motion.
The battle was not a clash, it was a cataclysm.
Blades screamed as they collided, arcs of light carving through the ash-choked air.
The ground split beneath the force of unleashed power, shockwaves rippling outward as masters of the Force tore into one another.
Vilyam was no longer watching.
He was inside it.
A Jedi rushed past him, cloak torn, eyes focused, only to be struck down by a bolt of crackling energy that left nothing but charred ruin in its wake.
A Dark Jedi lunged, blade seeking flesh, only to be met with a precise, almost sorrowful counterstrike that ended him in a single, fluid motion.
He felt it all.
The fear.
The conviction.
The rage.
The grief.
It poured into him like a flood breaching a dam.
Too much.
Far too much.
And still, it continued.
Ajunta Pall carved through the battlefield like a living storm.
Every strike was absolute.
Every movement carried the weight of dominance, of certainty that the galaxy itself should bow before him.
He clashed with a Jedi Master, an elder whose presence burned bright and steady like a star refusing to collapse.
Blue and green met red.
Calm met fury.
For a moment… they were equal.
Then, the ground beneath them exploded.
The sky itself seemed to recoil as their power collided, a violent surge that forced even nearby combatants to scatter.
Vilyam felt the strain.
The push.
The brink.
And then, the turning point.
Not a single strike, nor a single moment, but a shift.
Subtle, and inevitable.
The Dark Jedi line faltered.
Their unity fractured, ambition clashing against ambition, their hunger turning inward even as the battle raged on.
The Jedi pressed forward.
Not with rage, not with vengeance, but with unwavering purpose.
Ajunta Pall staggered.
For the first time, he yielded ground.
The battlefield fell silent.
Not all at once.
But piece by piece.
Until only the wind remained, whispering over the ruins of what had been.
Vilyam stood amidst the aftermath.
Bodies, and ashes
Broken blades.
And at the center of it all.
Ajunta Pall.
Kneeling with a scowl and hatred glowing in his eyes.
Not defeated in spirit, but beaten in war.
His blade flickered… then died.
The Jedi stood before him, not triumphant, not cruel.
Grave and resolute.
"You have chosen your path," one of them said, voice heavy with something deeper than victory.
"And now… you will walk it."
The world twisted, folding in on itself.
Time accelerated.
Vilyam felt it rushing past him like a storm at his back.
The fallen rose no more.
The living rebuilt.
Temples rose from ruin, and order returned.
But beneath it all, a shadow lingered.
A whisper that refused to die, the word forming in his mind.
Not spoken.
Not heard.
But known.
Sith.
He saw them leave.
The exiles.
Cast out.
Their weapons stripped from them.
Driven into the unknown reaches of the galaxy.
Their anger did not fade.
It festered.
It sharpened.
It evolved.
And as they vanished into the dark between stars…
The Force itself seemed to hold its breath.
The visions slowed, and softened.
The storm became a current.
Gentler now, but no less deep.
He stood once more in a place that was not quite real.
A temple.
New.
Rebuilt from the ashes of war.
Jedi moved through its halls with quiet purpose, their presence calm, focused.
But there was something else now.
Preparation, and watchfulness.
An understanding etched into every movement.
They were not at peace.
Not truly.
They were waiting.
The final memory settled over him like a quiet snowfall.
A voice, ancient yet calm
Measured and certain.
"They will return."
The words echoed, not as a warning…
But as a promise.
"And when they do… we must be ready."
The visions shattered.
Not violently this time.
But gently.
Like glass dissolving into light.
Vilyam gasped.
Air rushed back into his lungs as the chamber reformed around him, the weight of reality crashing back into place.
The holocron hovered before him, its glow dimmer now, quieter… as if it had said all it needed to say.
His hands trembled, his mind burned.
But his eyes.
His eyes were different.
Wider and deeper.
Touched by something vast and ancient.
He looked up at Master Adega, voice barely more than a whisper.
"…They're still out there… aren't they?"
The Cathar Master studied him in silence, those piercing eyes seeing far more than the question itself.
Then, slowly, gravely, he nodded.
"Yes."
Vilyam's mind began to darken and his vision blurred, the sheer amount of information, of the history of Jedi being too much for his young mind to handle as his legs began to wobble.
Just before the Knight Gnossian finally succumbed to collapse, he reacted with preternatural speed, dashing forward and catching the limp body just as it began its descent to the ground.
Immediately Master Adega spoke to Knight Gnossian.
"Take him to his room, we will monitor his condition but he needs to rest until his mind acclimates to the information he has absorbed!"
Knight Gnossian bowed respectfully.
"Yes Master!
Gnossian walked with the unconscious Vilyam out of the Masters training chamber and out into the large circular training yard filled with equipment used to train younglings and even older more proficient Jedi.
As the Knight Gnossian carefully carried Vilyam across the courtyard towards one of the empty rooms, he found himself immediately surrounded by a throng of younglings and slightly older children, all looking with palpable eagerness to meet the latest initiate.
A blonde-haired Miraluka child, his eyes partially obscured by a red and purple cloth wrapped around them, spoke first, his excitement clearly palpable. "Master Gnossian, who is this person? Is he going to be training with us?"
Knight Gnossian smiled warmly towards the younglings and prospective Padawan's.
"He will be joining us in training however Master Adega will also be training him personally!"
A red haired human youth clicked his tongue.
"Why is the master making an exception for the new guy, I've been here for years and he has barely even looked in my direction... This is outrageous!"
Knight Gnossian's expression became stern as he looked at the red headed human child.
"Young one, please be very careful. Jealousy is a dangerous thing, because it can easily lead to anger. And when you get angry, it can often lead to suffering. Suffering, unfortunately, is something that invariably leads down the path towards the dark side."
The red-headed childs eyes dropped, but deep within the fire of anger was still smoldering in embers.
"Okay everyone back to your training, let your newest brother rest!"
As the younglings and older children started hurrying back to their training sessions, a single green-skinned Mirialan girl lingered behind.
She remained alone, her gaze fixed intently on the unconscious form of Vilyam, her eyes drawn to his cute facial features and the gentle rhythm of his soft breathing.
She didn't fully grasp the emotions that stirred within her when she was around him; all she really knew was that she felt compelled to get closer to him, maybe even develop a friendship.
Turning around with her fingers crossed behind her she rejoined her training partner a young Zabrak male with a fierce appearance but kind and bright eyes.
As Vilyam was gently laid down on his bed, ready to rest, across the vast expanse of the Galaxy, on the blood-red planet, a grand academy stood tall, defiantly against the screaming winds of Korriban.
Deep within the Academy's shadowy recesses, a gathering of several high-ranking Sith sat around a table.
Each of them radiated an aura of intense hatred and anger that was so palpable it seemed to darken the very air around them.
"We have orders directly from the Emperor himself, delivered by his voice on Dromund Kass. The voice commands us to gather all of the younglings from Ossus City and eliminate any Jedi who stands in our path."
The Sith lord seated at the head of the table spoke in a voice that dripped with palpable malice.
The sheer pressure he emanated was enough to cause the surrounding Sith to shiver in fear, even though they possessed considerable power.
The crimson light that bled through the high, jagged windows painted the gathered Sith in shades of war and ruin, their shadows stretching long and distorted across the obsidian floor like clawed things eager to move on their own.
Silence lingered for a moment after the command was delivered.
Then, like cracks forming in glass, it broke.
A broad-shouldered Sith with jagged facial tattoos leaned forward, his gauntleted fingers pressing into the table hard enough to leave faint impressions in the black stone.
"We waste time with deliberation," he growled, voice thick with restrained violence. "Ossus is a nest of untested younglings and complacent masters.
We strike hard, we strike fast, and we drown them before they even realize they're under attack."
A low murmur rippled through a portion of the table.
Agreement.
Hunger.
Another Sith, draped in layered robes so dark they seemed to swallow the light around them, tilted their head slightly.
"And announce ourselves to the entire Jedi Order in the process?" their voice was smooth, almost amused. "How… nostalgic."
A faint chuckle echoed from somewhere deeper in the chamber.
The tattooed Sith sneered. "Fear is a weapon. Let them feel it."
"Fear," the robed Sith replied, folding their hands, "is most effective when it is unseen."
Their hood shifted just enough to reveal pale eyes that glimmered like cold stars.
"We infiltrate Ossus, Quietly, Insert operatives into the city, disrupt communications, poison supply lines and turn the population against the Jedi before the first blade is ever drawn."
Another figure spoke up, this one slender, their fingers adorned with rings that seemed to hum faintly with dark energy.
"Or better yet…" they mused, voice laced with intrigue, "we don't attack the Temple at all."
That drew attention.
Even the one seated at the head of the table shifted slightly.
The ringed Sith continued, a slow smile curling at their lips.
"We take the younglings outside the Temple during transit, During training, we will Isolate them and Break them."
Their eyes gleamed.
"Some will die… yes. But others?" a soft laugh slipped free, sharp as a blade. "Others might prove… useful."
A ripple passed through the room, this one darker, more interested.
The idea had teeth.
The tattooed Sith scoffed. "Cowardice."
"No," the ringed one replied calmly, "efficiency."
A new voice entered the fray.
Measured.
Cold.
Precise.
A Sith with a half-mask of blackened metal leaned forward slightly, his mechanical eye glowing faintly beneath the dim light.
"The Jedi are not fools," he said. "Even if they appear stagnant, they will sense a large-scale assault. A direct attack risks failure before it begins."
Their gaze swept across the table.
"But neither is subtlety alone sufficient. If we move too slowly, we lose the element of momentum."
They tapped a single finger against the table.
"Therefore… we do both."
That drew silence.
Interest.
The masked Sith continued.
"A feint. A visible threat at the outskirts of Ossus. Something loud enough to draw attention… but not decisive."
Their glowing eye dimmed slightly as their tone sharpened.
"While their forces mobilize outward… a second force infiltrates the city, target the younglings and extract or eliminate"
The robed Sith inclined their head slightly. "A divided blade."
The ringed Sith smiled wider. "I do enjoy divided blades."
The tattooed Sith leaned back, arms crossing, clearly dissatisfied, but not dismissive.
At the head of the table, the leading Sith Lord finally moved.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
The air itself seemed to tighten as he rose to his full height.
"You all think too small."
His voice was quiet.
And yet it crushed the room into silence.
"We are not raiders… nor assassins skulking in shadows."
He stepped forward, the hem of his robes whispering across the stone like a funeral shroud being drawn.
"We are Sith."
The word lingered, heavy as a falling blade.
His gaze burned across each of them in turn.
"Ossus is not merely a target. It is a message."