Echoes of the Council
The Jedi Temple on Coruscant was serene as ever, sunlight streaming through its towering windows. But the atmosphere in the Council chamber was anything but calm.
Zen stood in the center, cloak folded neatly, face composed though his heart wavered. Tif stood behind him, head bowed respectfully, her hands clasped in front of her.
The Council's holograms shimmered in a circle around them, masters both present and distant. Master Cilara's voice cut sharp through the air.
Cilara: "A second time you spared him. A Sith Lord, your own brother. Do you not see the risk you invite upon us all?"
Zen's gaze did not falter.
Zen: "I see the man behind the mask. Nox is not beyond saving. Every time our blades cross, I feel it, the boy I left behind. If I kill him, I kill what hope remains."
A murmur of disapproval rippled through the Council. Cilara pressed forward.
Cilara: "Hope is not the duty of a Jedi Master. Duty is clarity. And clarity would demand that you end him before his shadow consumes this war."
At that, Master Kaeden raised a hand, his lined face full of regret but tempered by calm.
Kaeden: "Clarity is not so simple, Cilara. I, too, sensed something on Aldiris. Darkness consumes Nox, yes, but there was hesitation. The Light is not gone."
Cilara: "Or it was weakness, nothing more. Compassion in the wrong place."
The debate flared, some siding with Kaeden, others with Cilara. Through it all, Zen remained silent. He knew the truth: every word Cilara spoke was the echo of his own self-doubt.
Finally, Master Yural leaned forward, voice measured.
Yural: "We cannot ignore the victories you've won, Zen. The Republic still stands stronger because of you. But this Council grows concerned that your loyalty may be divided."
Zen bowed deeply.
Zen: "My loyalty is to the Light. That will never change."
But as he turned to leave, the words echoed hollow in his chest. The Light had always guided him, but now, it flickered beneath the weight of love, memory, and doubt.
Still, the shadows in the chamber lingered as he and Tif departed.
The Blade and the Flame
Later, in the training halls of the Temple, Tif knelt on one knee, her braid trailing behind her. Around her stood her trial masters, sabers raised in salute. Her breathing was steady despite the sweat beading her brow. She had just completed her final test, defeating three opponents at once without losing composure.
It was done.
In the ceremony chamber, candles glowed, their light reflecting in her green eyes. Zen stepped forward, cutting the braid from her hair with a solemn blade, the traditional mark of ascension.
Zen: "By the will of the Council, and with the Force as witness, you are no longer Padawan. Rise, Jedi Knight Tif."
She rose, bowing, though her heart swelled with pride. Yet when her gaze lifted to Zen, she saw something more, his quiet pride, the faint warmth in his eyes. For her, that moment mattered more than any title.
Truth Beneath the Skyline
That night, Coruscant's skyline shimmered with endless streams of speeders. From a balcony high above, Tif stood beside Zen, the city lights painting her face gold and silver.
Silence stretched between them until she spoke, voice low but firm.
Tif: "All my life I've wanted this. To be a Jedi. To live up to Drayen's faith in me. To honor what he gave me when he… when he was taken."
Zen's hand rested gently on the railing beside hers.
Zen: "He would be proud. I know it. And so am I."
The words broke something in her. She turned to face him, eyes shining.
Tif: "Zen… I can't keep it hidden anymore. It's more than respect. More than duty. I.. I love you."
Her voice cracked, but she held his gaze, fearless now.
Zen closed his eyes, and for a long moment, the hum of Coruscant filled the air. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, burdened with both tenderness and restraint.
Zen: "Tif… I care for you deeply. More than I should admit. But to return that love openly… would bind us in ways the Jedi forbid. You deserve a life free of that weight."
Tif shook her head fiercely, tears threatening.
Tif: "I don't want freedom. I want truth. Whatever comes of it."
For the first time, Zen's composure cracked. He reached out, brushing her hand gently.
Zen: "Then truth is this: you mean more to me than I can ever say. But if I let it rule me… I could lose the clarity I need to protect you. To protect the galaxy."
It wasn't a rejection, but it wasn't an acceptance either. A fragile balance, like everything between them.
Still, as the city lights danced, Tif's heart no longer carried the burden alone. And that was enough.
The Doubt Within
Far away, in the black stone citadel of the Sith, Darth Nox sat alone in his chamber. His lightsaber lay unlit before him. The memory of Zen's voice echoed endlessly:
"I still see the boy I knew. And I will not destroy him."
He clenched his fists. He should have felt rage, but instead there was confusion. How could Zen stand in the Light without hatred, without vengeance, and still overpower him?
He rose, pacing like a caged animal. The words burned in his skull: Is the Light stronger than the Dark?
That thought was poison, and yet… it stayed.
Shadows Conspire
Darth Vrakus stood before his Council of Sith Lords, cloaked in black, their faces lit by the crimson glow of holocrons.
Lady Valdra, her face marked with crimson tattoos, spoke first.
Valdra: "Nox grows too strong. His victories swell your empire, but unchecked power feeds ambition. One day, he may challenge you."
The scarred brute, Lord Serik, growled:
Serik: "End him now. He is young, unseasoned. Break him, or discard him before he forgets who forged him."
A murmur of agreement swept the chamber.
Vrakus raised a hand, silencing them. His voice was smooth, venom wrapped in silk.
Vrakus: "You see his strength and call it danger. I see it as a blade, sharpened by my hand. His conquests spread our shadow, weaken the Republic. To strike him down now would be to waste a weapon not yet finished.
He paced slowly, eyes glinting like a serpent's.
Vrakus: "But you are not wrong. There is softness in him… hesitation when he fights, thoughts that drift too long to family. Weakness. Chains must be tightened before they break."
The lords bowed their heads.
Vrakus let his smile curve into something cruel.
Vrakus: "The time will come when his loyalty must be tested. If he fails, he will not live to fail again. By my hand, or by yours."
The chamber echoed with dark approval.
Closing Image
On Coruscant, Zen sat quietly in meditation, struggling to calm the storm within him, the Council's doubts, Tif's confession, his brother's shadow.
On Dromund Kaas, Nox clenched his saber until his knuckles whitened, torn between two loyalties.
And above all, Vrakus smiled in the dark, certain that all the pieces were moving as he intended.
The galaxy balanced on a knife's edge, and soon, the blade would cut.