Kai sat in silence long after the vision faded, the hum of the Force still resonating faintly in his chest. The echo of the battle—the way it had played out with such raw precision—lingered like smoke in his thoughts.
He had felt the heat of the canyon. The sweat under the armour. The pounding of a heart beneath beskar. And more than that, he had felt the Mandalorian's resolve. Not cold cruelty, but a fierce sense of necessity. Duty. Even… pride.
The name, Gar Saxon, echoed again in his mind. It meant something now. Not just a warrior from the past—but someone... significant. Kai didn't understand how or why, but the man's presence left a mark. One he couldn't shake.
He glanced down at the crystal still resting in his palm.
The swirling reds and blues that had once circled each other like opposing storms were no longer so divided. The colours had begun to bleed together—not violently, but organically, like water mixing with ink. At its heart, a faint shimmer of purple had emerged. Just a flicker. But it was there.
Kai stared at it, mesmerized.
Purple—balance, perhaps. The space between fire and calm, between war and peace. Or maybe something else. A mirror.
He drew in a breath, trying to steady the storm rising in his chest. Who was Gar Saxon to him? Why did the vision feel less like watching a stranger, and more like uncovering something personal—something buried?
He remembered the look in the Mandalorian's eyes. That brief flicker of emotion behind the armour. Haunted, but certain.
Kai leaned back against the cool stone wall, the crystal still warm in his grasp.
There were truths here, hidden behind memories that weren't his... but felt like they might one day become his to carry. Visions passed down not through teaching, but through inheritance.
"I need to know more," he whispered to the dark.
The Force stirred faintly in reply.
And in his palm, the crystal pulsed once—violet and steady.
The chamber was dim again, lit only by the soft flicker of the Sith holocron. The faint scent of age-old dust and jungle damp clung to the air as Kai sat cross-legged before the pedestal, the crystal resting between his palms.
He exhaled, closing his eyes and reaching out through the Force, the way he had learned. Calm, open, not pulling—inviting.
The holocron responded almost immediately, its glow intensifying with a low hum. Runes shimmered into the air, swirling until they gave way to the now-familiar specter—Naga Sadow, shrouded in regal robes, eyes like dying stars.
"You return sooner than expected," the specter said, voice curling with subtle amusement. "Curiosity burns in you like wildfire."
Kai didn't waste time. "I had another vision. Of the Mandalorian—Gar Saxon. It was... deeper this time. I didn't just see him. I felt him. Like I'd lived that memory."
Sadow regarded him in silence for a moment, then slowly circled him again like a hawk studying its prey.
"Psychometry is not a parlour trick, boy," he said finally. "It is a window. A conduit. Through it, the Force speaks to you from the past—but it does not always whisper. Sometimes, it remembers."
Kai opened his hand, revealing the crystal, its colours swirling slowly—red and blue bleeding into each other, forming a center that shimmered purple in the low light.
"It's changing," Kai said. "The crystal. It wasn't like this before. The more I connect to it, the more it... responds. And when I saw him—Saxon—it was like I already knew him. Like something inside me did."
The specter tilted his head. "You begin to understand."
Kai looked up sharply. "Understand what?"
"That the Force does not divide itself by mortal bloodlines, or names, or allegiances," Sadow said. "Its echoes can pass from one life to another, carried not by who you are, but by what you become. That crystal—you call it a memory, a relic. But it is also a mirror. And perhaps... a key."
Kai's fingers curled slightly around the crystal, unsure if he felt comfort or dread in the idea.
"But why the color?" he asked. "It's not red. Not blue. It's both... and not either."
Sadow moved closer, his form flickering with ancient weight.
"Because you are both. And neither. The Force is not light and dark—it is will and understanding. Conflict and clarity. Most Jedi fear the red. Most Sith loathe the blue. But you... you touch both flames without flinching. That is why the crystal reflects it."
Kai looked at the crystal again. The purple had deepened slightly, glowing faintly at the center now, like the eye of a storm.
"I don't know what this makes me," he murmured.
The specter's voice dropped, low and almost reverent.
"Perhaps not a Jedi. Not yet a Sith. But something the galaxy has not seen in a very long time."
Kai stared into the heart of the crystal, feeling it pulse with memory, with resonance, with truth.
Whatever path he was walking, it was not one anyone else had carved for him.
And it was far from over.
Days passed, marked only by the slow cycle of jungle light and shadow through the crumbling temple windows. Kai's meditation sessions had grown longer, deeper—his connection to the Force no longer hesitant, but deliberate. Still, a restlessness had begun to settle over him like a slow fog.
The vision of Gar Saxon lingered—too vivid to ignore, too personal to dismiss. Each time Kai returned to the crystal, more details bled through: the curve of the armour, the heat of the twin suns, the silent rage behind Saxon's visor. The man didn't feel like a stranger. He felt like... a shadow he'd always carried.
And the crystal—now a steady pulse of red-blue violet—seemed to thrum louder the more Kai dwelled on that feeling.
Tonight, the holocron flared to life before he even reached the pedestal.
"You've come to a decision," Naga Sadow said as his form emerged, already sensing the shift within him.
Kai nodded slowly. "The visions aren't just memories. They're a trail. And I need to follow it."
The Sith specter tilted his head, observing.
"You would leave Yavin," Sadow said. "Step beyond this sanctuary and into a galaxy that fears what you are becoming."
Kai stepped forward, his hand still loosely wrapped around the crystal. "There's more to Saxon. I need to know why I feel connected to him. I don't believe it's coincidence. If I can find out where he came from—where he died—maybe I'll find answers about myself, too."
The specter drifted in a slow arc around him, robes trailing like shadows. "Knowledge lies in forgotten places, scattered among ruins and bloodlines. But seeking it will expose you. The Jedi remnants will fear you. The Empire may hunt you."
Kai met his gaze evenly. "Then I'll be careful. But I can't sit here and pretend I'm not changing. And if I'm going to walk this path... I need a proper lightsaber."
At that, Sadow's projection hummed with something almost like approval.
"Finally, the question of the weapon," he said. "But not just any weapon. A saber is an extension of will—of identity. And yours is still... forming."
"I've studied the process," Kai said. "Enough to know I need parts—an emitter, focusing lens, power cell, something to house the crystal. Nothing like that's left here."
Sadow regarded him, eyes flaring brighter. "Then you must leave this world. Go where relics are bartered, where secrets are bought with risk. Seek the places where the Order once stood... and fell."
Kai nodded. "I'll take the X-wing. R6 can help me navigate. I'll keep a low profile."
Sadow's gaze lingered on the crystal in his hand. "But do not delay. The bond between you and the kyber is still evolving. It chooses its final form only when the wielder accepts their truth."
"And if I don't find it?" Kai asked.
"Then it will remain unshaped," Sadow said coldly. "As will you."
Kai looked down at the violet crystal pulsing faintly in his palm. It was warm. Responsive. Waiting.
He had stayed on Yavin long enough.
The galaxy was calling.
And he was ready to answer.