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Chapter Text

Josh sat cross-legged among the towering, whispering greenery of the Jedi Temple gardens, his hands resting lightly atop his knees. Around him, the world was still: the muted hum of Coruscant’s endless traffic far below, the sweet scent of blooming millaflowers, the soft murmur of ancient fountains tracing paths through the lush undergrowth. It was meant to be a place of peace.

But within him, there was none.

His fingers twitched against the rough weave of his robe, an unconscious tremor of restless energy he couldn’t seem to ground. His connection to the Force was undeniable, one of the strongest the Council had seen in generations, they said. But it was messy, too tangled in emotion. Like trying to hold back a river with bare hands.

Born on Naboo, among the endless fields of wildflowers and glassy, silver-blue lakes, Josh had grown up surrounded by life. His family were farmers, simple and joyful people who lived by the rhythms of the sun and rain, dirt and seed. 

Josh had always felt the breath of living things. Their needs, their fears, their hopes, their heartbeats, as naturally as breathing itself. He hadn’t known it was the Force. Not until he was eight, when a herd of wild shaaks panicked during a storm, stampeding toward his village.

Without thinking, without knowing how, Josh had stepped into their path, tiny and barefoot in the mud, and calmed them. Reaching out with no words, but with feelings, smoothing their terror into peace with the sheer force of his will.

The Jedi had come for him soon after, speaking of destiny, of belonging to something greater than one small farm, one quiet life.

Josh had taken to the training quickly. Lightsaber forms, Force techniques, diplomacy, all came easily to him. His Masters praised his discipline, his balance. Some even whispered he was destined for a seat on the High Council someday.

But detachment, the cold separation from emotion that the Order taught as the ideal, had never come easily to him. His connection to others ran too deep. Josh felt people, sometimes too much. Sensed the smallest tremor of fear, sorrow, anger beneath their surface.

The Force carried their emotions to him whether he wanted them or not. It made him a natural healer; it also left him raw after every mission, every goodbye, every loss. He hid it well behind calm eyes and a measured smile, but inside, the roots of those feelings gnawed at him, steady and patient, like roots cracking through stone.

Other talents had begun to blossom too. Quick flashes of the future during combat. A flicker of a blow before it fell, an opening before it appeared, made him a duelist nearly without equal among his peers. It was not just reflex, but sight, something that let him dance through battles before they had even properly begun.

And there was more, something rarer: a gentle pull toward Force healing, though many Masters warned against developing it too early. Healing required connection, they said. True healing demanded attachment. A dangerous path, even for the most disciplined Jedi. Yet Josh found himself drawn to it all the same, sensing the brokenness in others like a singer hearing a note off-key, unable to walk away from the silent cry for mending.

The force lived in him brightly, stubbornly, fully. No matter how tightly he tried to contain it, it always spilled over.

Josh had been trained under Master Keons, a man as steady as a mountain and as patient as the stars. When others had seen Josh’s reckless energy and warned it would lead to ruin, Keons had seen something else: potential. Possibility. Hope.

Josh remembered those days with an aching fondness: longer afternoons spent sparring under twin suns, quiet hours in the temple archives where Keons would nudge a datapad toward him with a small smile, encouraging him to ready beyond the standard lessons. Evenings filled with meditation, laughter, and quiet conversations where Keons had listened. Not as a distant Master dispensing wisdom, but as a mentor, a friend. A father figure in all but blood.

It had been Keons who first noticed Josh’s gift for sensing pain in others. Who had urged him to explore healing, even when the Council advised caution. Who reassured him that compassion was not entirely weakness, but strength. 

He tried to focus on the present, breathing in the garden’s rich, damp scent, reaching for stillness and it was slashed by a sudden ripple of wrongness.

He gasped softly, flinching, his body tensing.

A flash tore through his mind:

A back silhouette standing amidst a maelstrom of crimson light. 

Eyes, burning gold and red, staring through him, into him.

Twin lightsabers igniting, hissing to life like fangs in the dark.

And then...

Nothing.

Josh’s eyes snapped open. His heart hammered against his ribs, his skin clammy beneath his robes. The gardens, serene moments ago, now seemed oppressive, the air heavy with a tension he couldn’t explain.

Footsteps approached and a familiar presence settled beside him.

“Joshua,” a voice said, low and steady.

Josh turned his head and saw his mentor standing there. Jedi Master Keons: tall, silver-haired, his face aged with age and wisdom, his deep-set eyes as steady and unmoving as a mountain. Keons studied him with the patient concern of someone who had seen this before.

“You are troubled,” Master Keons said simply.

Josh hesitated. The vision still throbbed in the back of his mind, too vivid, too real. His first instinct was to speak, to spill every raw, jumbled piece of it, the fear still coiled in his gut. But something else, some deeply ingrained training, made him force a small smile instead. He soothed his expression into careful neutrality, lowering his gaze respectfully.

“It is nothing, Master,” Josh said, bowing his head. “I am merely tired from training.”

Master Keons regarded him for a long moment, saying nothing. HIs piercing gaze seemed to peel away the mask Josh wore. But still, he only nodded slowly, unreadable.

“Come,” he said at last. “The Council has summoned us.” 

Josh rose, brushing invisible dust from his robes. His legs felt stiff, heavy, as he fell into step behind his Master. As they left the garden, he cast one last glance over his shoulder, at the whispering trees, the rippling fountains, the illusion of peace he no longer trusted.

And somewhere in the farthest corner of his mind, the image of those burning red eyes lingered, waiting.

They walked in silence through the temple halls, their robes whispering across the smooth marble floors. Sunlight streamed through the high, arched windows, painting long bands of gold across the path ahead. Jedi Knights and Padawans passed them, some offering polite nods, others too absorbed in their own duties to notice the two figures moving like shadows through the grand corridors.

But Josh noticed everything. The way the light bent. The way his own footsteps echoed faintly. The way his Master’s presence remained steady and sure, like a beacon against the storm still gathering inside him.

They reached the Council chambers. Tall, imposing doors carved with the ancient emblems of the Order. Two sentinels stood at either side, unmoving. At a silent gesture from Keons, the doors parted with a deep, resonant hum.

Inside, the air felt heavier somehow. Twelve members of the Jedi High Council sat in their curved seats, the great windows behind them revealing the sprawl of Coruscant’s skyline beyond. Tall buildings, smoke stacks, the glint of countless ships weaving through the atmosphere.

Josh stepped forward and knelt without hesitation, bowing low. Master Keons did the same beside him.

“Rise,” came the voice of Master Sacarver, a Mirialan Jedi known for her sharp instincts and even sharper eyes.

They obeyed, standing side by side under the Council’s collective gaze.

“You are summoned,” said Master Lisden, a stern Zabarak whose voice always seemed to carry the weight of inevitability, “to address a matter of growing concern.” 

Josh kept his face neutral, but his mind raced. He could feel it. The tension thrumming through the room like an unspoken chord. 

“There have been disturbances,” Master Sacarver continued. “Ripples in the Force. Around our stronghold on Corellia’s outer territories.” 

Master Keons inclined his head slightly. “We have heard whispers, but nothing concrete.” 

Master Reisdro, an aging Twi’lek whose lekku coiled tightly around his shoulders, leaned forward. “Those whispers have grown louder. There are reports of missing traders. Small settlements found abandoned without signs of struggle. Even some of our own patrols have gone silent.”

Josh’s heart gave a single hard thud in his chest.

“And there is something more,” Master Sacarver said, her gaze tightening on Josh as if she could see straight through him. “A presence. Faint…but cold. Predatory.” 

Josh swallowed thickly. His vision. The red eyes, the feeling of being hunted. It wasn’t coincidence.

“We suspect Sith involvement,” Master Nills said. “Though we cannot confirm it.” 

The word Sith struck the air like a dropped blade. For generations they have battled the scattered remnants of Sith clinging to the shadows, but now, with the chaos of the Clone Wars tearing across the galaxy, old enemies were finding new opportunities to rise. To hear it spoken aloud again in the Council chamber made it real. Made it dangerous.

“We will not act out of fear,” Master Sacarver said firmly, as if anticipating Josh’s inner turmoil. “We will act with vigilance.” 

Master Keons finally spoke, his voice calm and certain. “What is it you ask of us?”

“You are to travel to Corellia, to the stronghold,” Master Nills said. “Strengthen the defenses. Investigate the disturbances. Determine if there is indeed Sith activity…and if so, eliminate the threat before it can grow.”

Josh bowed his head. His hands tightened into fists at his sides, hidden within the flowing sleeves of his robe. He felt the Force swirling around them. Felt the importance of the mission settle onto his shoulders like an invisible weight.

Master Sacarver’s voice softened slightly. “You are strong, Joshua. But strength must be tempered with wisdom. Trust in your Master. Trust in yourself.”

Master Nills added, his voice grave, “Know also that you will have little support. Our forces are stretched thin across the Outer Rim. The war demands more from the Order every day alongside our clones. Should trouble arise…you must rely on each other, and on the Force.”

Josh met their gazes, steady and unwavering. “I will not fail.”

There was a flicker of emotion. Approval, or perhaps worry, before she nodded.

“You are dismissed. May the Force be with you.”

Josh bowed again, then turned and followed Master Keons out of the chamber. As the heavy doors closed behind them with a deep, echoing thud, Joshua exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

The corridors seemed darker now. Narrower.

Beside him, Master Keons walked in silence, his hands clasped calmly behind his back. After a long moment, he said quietly, “There is more you are not telling me, Padawan.” 

Josh hesitated. The vision clawed at him again. The red eyes, the overwhelming wrongness. 

“I…” He faltered, then caught himself. “I had a vision. Before you found me in the garden.” 

Keons slowed, turning to study him. His face was grave, but not unkind. “Of what?”

Joshua lowered his voice to a whisper. “Fire. Death. Red eyes. Crimson lightsabers. Watching me.”

Keons was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

“It is good you told me,” he said at last. “Visions are warnings, not certainties. The future is always in motion.”

Josh nodded, though unease still gnawed at him.

Keons placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “We will face whatever awaits us. Together.” 

And for the first time since the vision had shattered his peace, Josh believed it.

Keons gave Josh’s shoulder a final squeeze before letting go. The weight of his hand lifted, but not the sense of reassurance. Still, Josh stood a little taller as they began walking, their robes sliding against the polished floor of the Jedi Temple’s corridor.

Outside the great arched windows, the Coruscant skyline glowed with dusk-light, endless streams of speeder traffic threading through towers like golden veins. The Clone Wars had changed the world, made even the capital feel fragile, but here, in this brief quick, the city still looked beautiful.

The faint whirr-click of droid limbs echoed behind them. Josh glanced back as his astromech, a battered but loyal R2 unit with deep navy plating and a scuffed dome, rolled briskly at his heels.

“Ready, R2?” Josh murmured.

The droid let out an enthusiastic bwoo-wup! And gave a quick spin of its dome.

Ahead, Master Keons’ own companion clanked along in a distinctly less graceful manner. 

“Oh dear,” the protocol droid fretted. “Must we go to Corellia, Master Keons? It’s such a tumultuous system these days. So much unrest, so many reports of, oh, heavens, pirates.”

“We’re not going sightseeing, Threepio,” Keons said dryly.

Josh grinned despite himself.

They emerged into the open hangar, where rows of starfighters gleamed beneath overhead lighting. Clone pilots moved between ships like phantoms, checking systems and running diagnostics, their white armor catching the glow. War had made even the hangars feel like launchpads for fate.

Josh paused beside the vessel. The ramp was down. All he had to do was walk in. But his feet didn’t move yet.

Keons stepped up beside him, quiet. “Still troubled, Padawan?”

Josh hesitated. “I’m not afraid to fight, Master. But this feels different. Like we’re being pulled into something….deeper. More complicated.” 

Keons studied him, his gaze steady. “You trust the Force.” 

“I do.” 

“Then trust it even more now.” He nodded toward the ship. “Your part begins here.” 

Josh drew in a slow breath, letting Keons’ words settle over him like a blanket. The Force stirred around him, an unseen current, urging him forward. He tightened his hand briefly into a fist, then released it. His part begins here.

He nodded once to his Master and stepped up the ramp, boots echoing softly against the metal. Keons followed without hesitation, the two of them ascending into the T-6 shuttle’s dim interior. 

The ship was an older model, all sharp wings and sleek, adaptable frames, perfect for the Jedi’s needs. Its circular cockpit gleamed with recent maintenance, the soft hum of the ship’s systems bleeding with the faint whir of Josh’s R2 unit as it rolled up the ramp behind them.

Keons’s C-3PO unit stumbled slightly at the top, muttering about the “indignities” of Jedi missions, but a sharp look from Keons silenced any further complaints.

Josh slid easily into the copilot's seat, while Keons took the primary controls. The chair molded comfortably to his frame, and the displays blinked to life in a soft wash of blue and green light. The T-6’s engines vibrated beneath them, restrained power ready to surge at their command.

Keons flicked a few switches, and the ramp retracted with a hiss of hydraulics. Overhead, the launch bay’s shields shimmered, the only barrier between them and the endless sky.

Josh glanced sideways at his Master. Keons’s face was serene, his hands steady on the controls, the image of unshakable calm. It gave Josh something to anchor to as the weight of the coming mission pressed down on him.

With a low rumble, the T-6 lifted off the deck, the city of Coruscant sprawling beneath them. Then, with a roar, they shot toward the upper atmosphere, stars beckoning them onward like scattered seeds across dark soil.

Josh took a deep breath. His fate waited ahead.

—

The throne room of Darth Bourbaki was a cavernous, suffocating palace, carved from dark durasteel and obsidian, its towering pillars reaching into shadows that even the flickering crimson lights could not pierce. Every surface was sharp edged, designed to unnerve and diminish anyone who dared step foot inside.

Tyler knelt at the foot of the throne, his head bowed, his black-gloved hands steady on his thighs. The air was heavy with the metallic tang of old blood and burning circuitry. Around him, the silence stretched taut, oppressive, broken only by the faint hum of energy coursing through the walls.

Above him, Darth Bourbaki regarded him from his high seat, the Sith Lord’s skeletal fingers steepled beneath his chin. His robes pooled like a living shadow around him, his face hidden beneath the angular mask he always wore. Emotionless, inhuman. His voice, when it came, was a cold blade sliding into Tyler’s spine.

“You will travel to Corellia,” Bourbaki said, each word falling with measured cruelty. “There, among the cowards and traitors who call themselves neutral , the Jedi have built a stronghold.” 

Tyler remained perfectly still, the practiced control of years of survival and training locking his muscles in place. Inside, he absorbed every syllable with laser focus.

“A Padawan will be surveying there,” Bourbaki continued, his voice dropping lower, more dangerous. “A prodigy the Council is nurturing. They believe this one will bring balance, strength, to their crumbling Order.” 

Bourbaki’s voice twisted mockingly around the word balance, as if it were a rotting thing.

“You will find this Padawan,” Bourbaki said, leaning forward slightly, and though Tyler could not see his eyes, he felt the piercing weight of his gaze, sharp enough to flay skin from bone. “Capture them. Or kill them.” 

A thin smile curled beneath the Sith Lord’s mask.

"Whichever proves more…useful.”

Tyler dipped his head lower.

“Yes, Master.”

Inside him, something coiled. A tension he couldn’t explain. The mission was straightforward. Another task. Another piece of Bourbaki’s endless war. Yet, he felt something. A thread in the Force, tugging faintly at him. Not Bourbaki’s iron grip, not the snarling, stormy hatred of the other Sith apprentices who lurked like jackals in the shadow. This was something else. Something…unfamiliar. And exciting.

As he knelt there, the throne room’s chill gnawing at his skin, memory stirred.

He thought, for a moment, of Raxus Prime. The endless mountains of wreckage, the skies choked with smoke and rust storms. He had been born into the wastelands, surviving by scavenging through rotted starships and shattered droid parts, trading whatever scraps he could salvage for stale food and thin water. 

Violence had been his first language.

Fear, his second.

Trust, a word he had learned to forget.

He had been ten the night the raiders came. Mercenaries drunk on spice and bloodlust. One of them had cornered him in a dead-end alley lined with broken hyperdrives. Tyler hadn’t even known what he was doing, only that something inside him had exploded outward, and the man had died without a mark on him, crumpling like a puppet with its strings cut. Terror, raw and blinding, had poured from him. Striking the man with such force that he had collapsed, screaming at horrors only he could see.

That was when Bourbaki’s agents found him.

The Sith Lord had seen potential, not a terrified child. He had torn Tyler from the wreckage of his old life and forged him into a weapon: through cruelty, isolation, and relentless brutality.

Tyler had risen through the Sith ranks faster than any apprentice before him. His ability to disappear within the currents of the Force, to become a ghost even Jedi Masters couldn’t sense, made him the perfect assassin. Force concealment, they called it, though few truly understood it. 

The others hated him for it, whispering “the Master’s favorite” like a curse. But Tyler knew better. Favor only meant harsher punishments. Higher expectations. Failure was not allowed. Weakness was death.

He lived in a constant state of tension, haunted by the past, by the ghosts he had created. Every breath, every heartbeat, was held together by sheer force of will. It was as if he were a cracked vessel, leaking rage, fear and loneliness, a second away from shattering, and yet he never did.

The Force obeyed his fury. When his anger slipped free, he could tear starships apart like paper, hurl durasteel doors from their hinges, rip enemies limb from limb without ever lifting a hand. His telekinesis, brutal and uncontrolled, was a weapon that turned whole battlefields into slaughter.

And when he needed more subtly, Tyler could reach into the minds of his enemies and shatter them from within. Projecting visions of their worst nightmares until they fell to their knees, broken by horrors their bodies had never touched. Force Fear, the Sith called it. A gift for those who could wield terror itself as a blade.

Inside Tyler, there was no peace. Only survival. Only the sharp, cutting edge of the next breath, the next kill, the next order.

Bourbaki rose from the throne in a slow, predatory movement. His boots rang hollowly against the cold floor as he descended the steps. Tyler kept his head down, his every nerve honed to stillness, but he felt the presence settle close to him. A black hole drawing in all warmth and light.

“You are my blade, Tyler,” Bourbaki said, his voice lowering to a near whisper. “Sharper than any who came before you. Deadlier. Necessary. ” 

A gloved hand touched Tyler’s shoulder, almost gentle, but in a way that made his skin crawl.

“You will not fail me.”

“I will not, Master,” Tyler said, voice quiet but sure.

The hand withdrew. Bourbaki’s footsteps echoed as he retreated back to the throne. Tyler waited a moment longer, as protocol demanded, then rose smoothly to his feet. His long, dark cloak whispered against the stone floor as he turned toward the exit. The cold of the room clinging to him like a second skin.

He moved through the great doors, flanked by silent sentries in dark armor, his boots striking a steady rhythm down the corridor. The ship bay laid ahead. Row after row of black TIE fighters and transports bristling like the spines of a beast. 

Tyler paused at the threshold, his sharp features set in their usual mask of cold detachment. The mission weighed heavily on him, but it was not the burden of fear or doubt. It was the weight of survival, of expectation. Success meant more missions, more brutal favor. Failure...

There was no failure.

He pulled the hood of his cloak up, the heavy fabric casting his face into shadow. The pull in the Force tightened, drawing him toward Corellia, toward the unknown Padawan he was tasked to destroy.

He did not yet know their name.

Only that they were powerful.

Only that they mattered.

Without another glance back, he strode toward his ship, the cloak snapping behind him like a banner of war.

—

The journey through hyperspace was swift, the blue-white tunnel of light collapsing as the T-6 dropped back into realspace. Before them, Corellia stretched out. A world of sprawling cities, dense forests, and endless networks of factories and starship yards, all stitched together beneath the golden glow of a setting sun.

Keons guided the T-6 smoothly through the atmosphere, the shuttle buffeted by occasional gusts of wind. The city they approached was smaller than the famous hubs of Coronet or Tyrena, an outlying township set against the rugged hills, where the gleam of commerce gave way to the grit of survival. 

The landing pad was tucked on the edge of town, a flat stretch of permacrete marked by flickering beacons. Keons brought the shuttle down with practiced ease, the landing struts hissing as they touched the surface.

For a moment, neither Master nor Padawan moved. The engines powered down, leaving only the faint clicks and groans of the cooling hull.

Keons turned to Josh, his expression serious.

“Our priority is information. We blend into the town. Listen. Watch. See if the disturbances reported are natural…or engineered.” 

Josh nodded, absorbing every word.

Keons continued, his voice low.

“If there are indeed Sith here, they’ll be cautious. Subtle. They won’t reveal themselves easily. We must be patient. A wrong move could drive them deeper into hiding or worse.” 

Josh felt the tension twist tighter in his chest.

“And if it’s a Sith Lord?”

Keons’s mouth thinned.

“We will adjust. But I do not think we need to worry about that. A Lord would not trouble to hide unless they were planning something…dangerous.” He paused, the unease he usually kept buried flickering briefly across his face. “But, I sense nothing. No malice. No dark presence. Only us.” 

Josh stretched out with the Force himself, casting his awareness over the town like a net. Shops, market stalls, the distant hum of speeders, the flickering emotions of a hundred ordinary lives, fear, joy, boredom, anger, but nothing…ominous. Nothing like the icy hand that had haunted his visions.

He shook his head.

“Same for me. Just…life. Nothing dark.” 

Keons studied the town through the viewport, then turned back to Josh, standing up.

“Remember your training. Trust the Force and yourself.” 

Josh swallowed hard but nodded again. His fingers brushed against the curved hilt of his lightsaber, more for reassurance than anything else.

“I’m ready.” He pressed the controls to lower the ramp, and stood. 

The cool evening air of Corellia swept into the shuttle, carrying with it the scent of rain-soaked streets and distant engine grease.

They walked down the ramp, flipping their brown hoods over their heads. 

The town sprawled out before them, a patchwork of aging durasteel buildings, narrow alleys, and cluttered market streets. Neon signs flickered half-heartedly in windows. The people they passed kept to themselves, shoulders hunched against the wind, heads down. A speeder whined ahead, sending a gust of grit spiraling past.

Josh kept his pace even beside Keons, the hood of his cloak drawn up. He let his senses flow outward, trying not to force it, just…listen.

Laughter from a nearby cantina. An argument between a merchant and a customer. Children darting between stalls.

Josh frowned slightly. There was fear here. Not enough to scream through the Force, but present. Persistent. Like an old wound that hadn’t healed.

They moved deeper into the heart of the settlement. A pair of B1 battle droids clanked by lazily, heads swiveling back and forth. Their programming clearly wasn’t suited for patrol duty, one bumped into a crate, and kept walking.

Josh caught a brief spike of unease from nearby townsfolk, but it wasn’t the droids that frightened them. The Separatist presence was light, almost ceremonial. Whatever had them watching from behind curtains and closed doors wasn’t mechanical. 

They slipped into a crowded market square. Fabric stalls, droid repair booths, food carts steaming with exotic smells. And eyes, so many eyes, watching from doorways, from behind cracked windows.

A Rodian merchant hissed at them as they passed.

“Offworlders shouldn’t linger long. Bad luck after dark.” 

Keons stopped briefly, studying the Rodian.

“What kind of bad luck?”

The Rodian’s snout twitched. His voice dropped to a whisper.

“People go missing. Heard screams last week, by the old shipyard. Nobody goes there now. Not without a blaster or a death wish.” 

Keons pressed two credits into the merchant’s hand.

“Thank you.”

They continued walking, weaving through denser crowds. Josh’s heart pounded harder now, his instincts prickling. There was something here, hidden, buried, but it wasn’t rising into the Force the way it should. Whatever was stalking this town, it knew how to hide.

“It’s like…” Josh muttered under his breath. “...something's folding itself into the cracks.” 

Keons gave a grim nod.

“Like a hunter waiting for prey.” 

Josh swallowed, the memory of his visions flickering through his mind again. Fire, death, red eyes.

They reached the edge of the market, where buildings grew sparse and broken fences leaned drunkenly against the wind. Beyond lay the old shipyard, just as the Rodian said. Rusted scaffolds and abandoned vessels stretching into the dusk.

Keons slowed, surveying the broken landscape.

“That’s where we start.” 

Josh tightened his grip on his cloak.

“And if the Sith are there?” 

Keons’s eyes gleamed under his hood.

“Then we find out what they want, before they find us.” 

The two Jedi slipped into the deepening shadows, heading toward the graveyard of ships where something unseen was already waiting. 

The old shipyard loomed before them, silent and skeletal. Hollowed freighters and rusted starfighters leaned in the dusk like corpses left out in the rain. The air smelled of oil and decay. Wind whistled through broken vents and shattered cockpit glass, a low, keening sound that set Josh's teeth on edge.

Keon raised two fingers and gestured silently, split up and circle around.

Josh gave a tight nod and peeled away, drawing his cloak close as he crept along the outer rim of the yard. He moved between stacks of rusted cargo containers and defunct walker parts, his boots silent on the cracked dirt. The Force brushed against his skin like cold breath. Nothing visible. But something wrong.  

He couldn’t hear anyone. Couldn’t see anything. And yet…

There was pressure. Not heavy, not loud. Just a steady whisper in the back of his skull. A hum of danger coiled tight in the pit of his stomach.

His breath shortened as he ducked beneath a collapsed wing and scanned the narrow corridor of broken machinery ahead. Orange light from the town’s perimeter lights barely reached this far. Everything beyond was cast in flickering shadows.

He reached out in the force. 

...Nothing. Only Keons, faint and steady on the other side of the yard.

And that was wrong. There should’ve been noise. The mind of rats. The jittery fear of hiding townsfolk. The low simmer of life around them. Instead, it was like walking into a vacuum. 

The Force was being smothered. 

Josh pressed himself against the cold metal flank of a gutted Y-wing and exhaled slowly.

“Master,” he whispered into his comm, “I don’t like this. It’s too quiet. Something’s...”

A rustle. Sharp. Just behind him.

Josh whirled, lightsaber half-raised, but there was nothing. Just shadows. Still and empty.

He crouched lower, heart hammering now. A chill slithered down his spine. In the dark, something watched him.

A few meters away, perched silently within the broken husk of a transport’s hull, Tyler crouched like a shade. Cloaked in the shadows and the Force, his presence erased so thoroughly even the air didn’t notice him. He watched the Padawan move, careful, alert, uncertain. 

Good instincts, he thought. Not good enough.

His eyes flicked to the other side of the yard. He couldn’t sense the second Jedi clearly, but he didn’t need to. He’d seen the formation. The way they’d split. Classic maneuver. Predictable. 

Tyler titled his head, a maniacal smile finding his lips. So which one dies first? 

The cold hunger in his chest curled tighter. He didn’t move. Not Yet.

Meanwhile, Keons stepped through a twisted frame of scaffolding, hand resting loosely near his saber hilt. His eyes swept the yard with practiced calm, but his mind was narrowing. The Force is veiled. He couldn’t feel Josh clearly anymore. That wasn’t normal.

He paused beside a shattered troop transport and drew in a slow breath. Someone is here. He just couldn’t see them. Yet.

A sharp clatter echoed through the shipyard. Josh spun toward the noise, heart hammering against his ribs. His saber hilt leapt into his hand, but he didn’t ignite it yet. No target. Just more empty shadows shifting in the broken metal bones of the yard. 

Another scrape, somewhere behind him now.

It’s playing with me, he realized grimly. Whatever it is…it knows I’m here.

He stretched out with the Force again, willing it to reveal whatever lurked in the dark, but it slipped from his grasp like oil.

Across the yard, hidden behind the cockpit of a downed gunship. Tyler smiled to himself. 

Poor little Jedi. So nervous already.

He watched the Padawan from his vantage point, studying him in a way a nexu might study a wounded bird.

Short, buzzed hair. A small Padawan braid brushing the curve of his neck. Brown eyes, wide and alert, constantly scanning. Freckled skin across his cheeks and nose, still clinging to the softness of youth beneath the tension.

Pretty, Tyler thought idly. Almost a shame to carve him up.

Almost.

He shifted just enough to knock a loose bolt from the ledge. It hit the ground with a sharp, metallic clang. 

Josh flinched instinctively, pivoting toward the sound.

Tyler smirked. You’re easy, kid.

But boredom gnawed at him almost as quickly as amusement. Drawing it out was more fun, for a time. Now he wanted more. The real prize was the Master. Stronger. More satisfying to break. The Padawan could be killed afterward.

He abandoned Josh silently, slipping through the wreckage like smoke.

Across the shipyard, Keons straightened, head tilting as he caught the faintest disturbance in the air, a ripple of something wrong moving toward him.

Josh felt it too.

The moment Tyler moved, the wrongness sharpened like a blade. Josh’s sense screamed in warning. 

“Master!” he shouted into his comm, sprinting toward Keons’s position. 

In the Force, he could feel the darkness blooming. An invisible snarl, surging toward Keons with brutal speed. And somewhere in the rising tide of fear and fury, Josh could feel a thought that was not his own. This is where the fun begins.

Josh sprinted across the broken ground, boots slipping on oil-slicked gravel. His heart hammered, not from the run, but from the terrible certainty growing with every step. 

Ahead, through the haze of steam and smoke, he saw them collide. 

Keons whirled, lightsaber flaring to life in a brilliant arc of green, but the Sith was already there.

He moved like a phantom. Fluid, tauntingly slow at first, just to show how little effort it cost him. His twin crimson blades snapped into existence, crackling with hungry energy.

He caught Keons’s first strike between both sabers, laughing low in his throat.

“You’re slower than I thought, Master Jedi,” Tyler drawled, voice rich with amusement. 

Keons didn’t answer. He drove forward with calm, practiced strikes, but Tyler danced around him, parrying with a lazy grace that mocked every move. He fought like he owned the ground beneath his feet, like death itself bent to his whim.

Josh ducked behind a stack of rusted engine parts, eyes wide, chest heaving. He had never seen anyone fight like this, so fast, so brutal, so impossibly precise. His heart hammered in his chest, the memory of those twin lightsabers flashing burned into his vision. 

And the man wielding them…

He had brown hair, wild and untamed, framing a face that was both strangely young and terrifyingly cruel. His skin was pale against the red glow of his eyes, eyes that burned like open wounds, filled with a vicious, feral hunger. A jagged scar slashed across his nose, giving him a savage, broken symmetry. His gear was all black: layered robes, lightweight armor fitted to speed and lethality, utility belt with two spots for his sabers. His mouth, when he smiled, and he smiled a lot, revealed sharp canine teeth, like some wolfish predator that hadn’t been let loose among men.

Josh shivered, forcing himself to breathe evenly. 

Tyler grinned wickedly as Keons adjusted his footing, pressing back.

“I thought I’d find something better guarding the runt,” Tyler sneered, jerking his chin toward where Josh crouched unseen. Or so he thought. His sabers blurred in his hands, carving lazy figure-eights through the air, daring Keons to close the gap.

Keons’s jaw tightened. He moved in with a series of sharp, punishing strikes, aiming for Tyler’s exposed side, but Tyler simply stepped aside, graceful as a predator.

“So serious,” Tyler teased, catching Keons’s blade on one saber and twisting it aside while swinging the other low toward Keons’s knees. 

Keons barely blocked it, teeth gritted.

“You’re going to lose,” Tyler said casually, circling. “You know that, don’t you?”

Josh’s fingers tightened around his own curved hilt. The Force screamed at him: Move. Now.

But fear held him frozen for one breath longer, heart pounding, as Tyler moved in for the kill, sabers flashing red as blood.

Josh moved.

He launched from cover like a shot, blue saber igniting with a sharp snap-hiss. He plunged into the fray, heart hammering, refusing to let fear root him anymore.

Tyler just smiled.

“Oh, good,” he said, voice a mockery of delight. “Now it’s interesting.” 

Josh came in high, Keons low, twin angles of attack designed to overwhelm. Their blades sang through the thick air, blue and green slashing and stabbing with precision honed from years of training.

Tyler met them like he was dancing.

He flowed between them, twin crimson sabers a blur, catching Keons’s heavy strike, flicking Josh’s blade wide with a twist of his wrist. His body moved with almost lazy arrogance, every parry effortless, every riposte designed not just to defend, but to humiliate.

“Come on,” Tyler purred, backing up a step, grinning, showing his razor sharp canines. “Is this really the best the Order sends now? A fossil and a pretty boy?” 

Josh gritted his teeth, lunging in faster, striking for Tyler’s exposed side, but the Sith apprentice was ready. He caught Josh’s blade mid-swing, twisted and slammed his palm out with a brutal burst of telekinetic Force.

Josh flew.

He crashed into a pile of shattered durasteel, the air driven from his lungs. Stars exploded across his vision. His lightsaber clattered from numb fingers, skittering out of reach.

“Stay down,” Tyler said lazily, not even looking at him anymore.

Josh groaned, head swimming. He tried to move, tried to breathe, but it felt like every part of him had been lit on fire.

Through the haze, he saw Keons.

The Jedi Master stood alone now, back straight, green saber held steady. He knew. Josh could see it in his face.

Still, Keons faced Tyler without fear.

Tyler circled him almost thoughtfully, like a nexu toying with its prey.

“You fought well, old man,” he said, voice almost gentle. “But it’s over.”

Josh managed to lift his head, just in time to see Tyler strike.

A sudden, vicious lunge, one crimson blade slammed through Keons’s chest. The Master gasped, faltering, his saber slipping from his hands, still trying to stand despite the fatal wound.

But Tyler wasn’t finished.

Grinning, savoring it, he spun, both sabers arcing up, and in one swift, brutal motion, crossed them through Keons’s neck.

The Jedi’s head fell cleanly from his shoulders, his body collapsing like a broken statue.

For a heartbeat, the world went silent.

Then the sound tore from Josh’s throat, a hoarse, broken cry that seemed to rip him apart from the inside. He thrashed against the wreckage pinning him down, heedless of the pain, of the blood on his hands, of the sharp edges biting into his skin.

“NO!” The world barely sounded human, raw with a grief too big for his body to hold. 

Keons was gone. His mentor. His anchor. His father in all but name. Gone, slaughtered like nothing more than a shadow in the dirt.

Josh could feel something inside him cracking, breaking wide open. The Force around him trembled, answering grief and rage, helplessness pouring out of him in waves. But no matter how hard he fought, no matter how loudly he screamed, Keons did not move. He would never move again.

Tyler straightened, blood and smoke rising around him. He turned toward Josh, a slow, feral grin spreading across his face. 

“Your turn,” Tyler said lightly, his voice almost sing-song. And he laughed, low and cruel, while Josh lay there, gasping, helpless, the Force roaring inside him like a gathering storm.

Josh could barely breathe. Rage and grief boiled inside him, a terrible storm he could no longer hold back. The Force answered his fury.

With a roar, Josh shoved outward. The wreckage pinning him shuddered and flew away from him, shards of metal shrieking through the air. He staggered to his feet, saber snapping to his hand in a flash of brilliant blue. 

Tyler turned leisurely at the noise, his crimson blades humming in the smoky air. “Oh,” he said, smiling wide. “You’ve still got some fight left. Good. ” 

Josh launched at him, driven by a hurricane of emotion. Their sabers clashed violently, blue and red sparking against each other, the air thick with heat and fury.

Josh tried to steady his mind, drawing on the Force like he had been taught. He caught glimpses, flashes, a second ahead, the ghost of Tyler’s next move. A strike from the left. A sweep from below. 

It saved him. Barely.

But the flashes were spotty, fragmented, like trying to fight through a broken mirror. His instincts kept screaming warnings a moment too late.

Tyler’s force presence was…slippery. Vanishing. Almost like he wasn't there at all until he struck. Josh didn’t realize, couldn’t realize, it was Tyler’s rare Force concealment ability disrupting his precognition, leaving him constantly off-balance. 

“You’re quick, pretty boy,” Tyler chuckled, parrying Josh’s furious strikes with lazy, almost mocking ease. “But not quick enough.” 

He darted forward with shocking speed, Josh tried to block, but the blow wasn’t lethal.

It was humiliating.

Tyler’s saber slashed across Josh’s back in a shallow, precise line, right between his shoulder blades. Enough to sear through his tunic and leave a burning, permanent scar. Josh cried out, stumbling, biting down on the pain.

Tyler laughed, a rich, taunting sound, as he twirled his sabers lazily.

“That one’s just for you,” he sneered, “A little something to remember me by.” 

Josh gritted his teeth, refusing to fall. The pain, the anger, the horror of seeing Keons murdered before his eyes. It all churned inside him, red-hot, hungry.

And Tyler was still smiling, still waiting, daring him to lose control completely.

Josh fought on, even as pain lanced up his spine from the fresh wound. Every movement burned. Every breath was a ragged gasp. But he would not give up.

Could not give up.

Tyler grinned, savoring the struggle. He slammed a hard kick into Josh’s ribs, sending him stumbling. Before Josh could recover, a brutal Force push knocked the breath from his lungs, sending him crashing backward into the dirt.

Then, something worse.

Tyler tilted his head sideways, and the air seemed to shimmer. A darkness bled into Josh’s mind, curling like smoke through his thoughts.

Josh screamed without sound as a vision overwhelmed him: Keons dying. Again.

The red sabers flashing. Keons’ pained gasp. The way he looked at Josh as his head came free from his shoulders.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Josh’s body shook violently. Tears streamed freely down his freckled face, carving tracks through the dust. His saber trembled in his hand, then slipped from his fingers.

Tyler’s laughter was loud, cruel, and delighted.

“Aww, poor thing,” he cooed mockingly. “You really loved him, didn’t you?” 

The nightmare released its grip. Josh collapsed to his knees, his body broken, his spirit hanging by a thread.

Tyler sauntered forward casually, a hunter toying with his prey. With a lazy flick of his fingers, he ripped Josh’s saber from the ground and sent it spinning far out of reach.

Josh barely had the strength to lift his head. He knelt there, defeated, staring up at the dark figure before him.

And Tyler, Tyler relished it.

Both of his sabers hissed as he brought them to either side of Josh’s neck, their searing heat burning against his skin.

Josh closed his eyes, waiting for the end.

But it didn’t come.

Snap-hiss.

The blades extinguished.

Josh blinked in confusion as Tyler crouched down in front of him, meeting him at eye level.

A gloved hand reached out, slow, almost gentle, and tilted Josh’s chin upward, forcing him to look into Tyler’s golden-red, predatory eyes.

“Such a pretty little thing,” Tyler murmured, voice low and terrible. 

He studied Josh like an artist admiring a piece of shattered glass. Something broken, but beautiful.

Josh, too exhausted and hollowed out to resist, just stared back, his chest rising and falling in shallow, pained gasps. 

Tyler’s smile deepend, cruel and lazy.

“You know…” he muttered, thumb brushing almost thoughtfully along the side of Josh’s bruised jaw. “Killing you would be easy.” 

Josh flinched at the touch, but he had no strength left to pull away.

“But where’s the fun in that?” Tyler mused aloud, almost to himself. His eyes glinted with amusement. “My Master will be furious. He wanted me to kill you.” He chuckled, low and amused, as if at a private joke.

“I think you’re too pretty to waste,” he said, almost mockingly tender. “And besides…” 

Tyler leaned in closer, his voice a whisper against Josh’s ear. 

“I see potential. In you. In the future.” 

Josh squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall again, but he couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop the hatred boiling inside him, mingled with helplessness and despair. 

Tyler straightened, brushing imaginary dust off his black robes with an elegant flick of his wrist.

“I already killed your Master,” he said casually, gesturing back toward the wreckage where Keons’s body lay cooling in the dirt. “That’s enough for today.”

He stepped back, twin sabers igniting once more in a hiss of red light, not to strike, but to frame himself in their sinister glow. 

“You’ll heal,” Tyler said with a smirk. “And when you’re ready…” 

He turned, beginning to walk away, red blades spinning lazily at his sides.

“... Come find me.” 

The words drifted back like a promise and a challenge.

Josh sayed kneeling there, broken, the image of Tyler’s retreating form searing itself into his mind. His hands clenched into fists shaking.

Just as Tyler reached the edge of the shadows, he paused.

Slowly, he turned, casting a final look over his shoulder.

Josh, still on his knees, met his gaze. Helpless. Burning.

Tyler winked, a slow, almost playful gesture that made Josh’s blood boil. Then, with a theatrical flourish, Tyler deactivated his sabers, the red blades hissing into nothingness. He clipped them to his belt, and in one smooth motion, drew his hood up over his dark hair. 

Only his eyes remained visible. Those searing, molten red eyes, burning through the gloom like twin brands.

Josh tried to move, tried to rise, but his body betrayed him. All he could do was watch as Tyler gave a shallow, mocking bow…then stepped backward into the darkness, swallowed by it as if he had never been there at all.

For a moment longer, those crimson eyes hovered in the blackness, smirking at him.

Then they too disappeared. 

Josh sagged forward, gasping for breath, the silence crashing down over him like a wave.

The nightmare wasn’t over.

It had only just begun. 

Chapter Text

The air still sizzled with the echo of lightsabers, scorched rock glowing red beneath the rising dawn. Josh knelt on the ground, breath ragged, body curled around the pain dancing through his back. His tunic clung to the wound: fresh, angry, burned deep from where Tyler’s blade had slashed him across the shoulder and down his spine. It throbbed with every breath, a searing reminder of the loss.

Gritting his teeth, he pushed up on trembling arms and turned.

There, just beyond some wreckage, were the empty robes. Master Keons’ robes. Neatly folded by the Force as his body had vanished, became one with it, as Jedi do. 

Gone.

Josh stared, throat tight. The air around the fabric felt hollow, like the world had dropped out from under him. His Master was truly gone. Not just defeated, but erased from the physical realm, leaving behind only cloth and silence.

He didn’t cry. Didn’t scream. Just moved forward on aching legs and reached out, hands shaking, and lifted Keons’ lightsaber from where it lay beside the robes. The hilt was cool in his palm. Familiar. Heavy.

His fingers closed around it slowly. 

He clipped it to his belt beside his own.

The Jedi Code rang hollow in his mind. 

There is no emotion, there is peace.

He should have felt nothing. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything. 

But the grief carved him open.

Keons wasn’t just his teacher. He was the one who steadied Josh when his fear threatened to drown him. The one who believed in him even when Josh couldn’t meet his own reflection. Keons had been more than a Master, he’d been…everything. 

And now...

Josh exhaled sharply, throat raw.

Now there was only the saber. Only silence.

And that laugh. 

Tyler’s laugh still echoed through the wreckage, even though he was gone. An arrogant, feral sound that wormed it’s way into Josh’s soul. It had cut deeper than the saber. And in its wake, something darker had bloomed.

Revenge.

The moment Keons fell, it flared inside Josh, burning, furious, alive. He’d wanted to kill Tyler. To make him pay. Even now, the thought of Tyler escaping made his blood turn to fire.

He clenched his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut. Let go. He couldn't carry this. Couldn’t want this. He had to press it down, choke it out before it rooted too deep. 

“I’m not that,” he whispered to the emptiness. “I won’t be that.” 

But the feeling didn’t fade.

With a breath that stung his lungs, Josh reached for his comm at his waist and clicked it on. “C-3PO,” he rasped, voice hoarse. “Bring the ship. Now.” 

A crackle. Then the droid’s proper, tinny reply: “Oh dear. Yes, of course! Right away. I’ll initiate landing procedures immediately...”

“No need,” Josh muttered.

He closed the comm, turned, and limped toward an open space in the graveyard of ships. The sky above buzzed as the ship swept down in response, its ramps beginning to lower, repulsors whining as it prepared to set down.

Josh didn’t wait.

He gathered the Force, burning and unsteady inside him, and vaulted upward, pain screaming through his back as he landed hard on the ramp just as it steadied. The ship jerked mid-descent, startled by the move, and 3PO stumbled into view.

“Padawan! You’re injured. What happened down there? And where is Master Keo-”

Josh didn’t answer. 

He moved past the droid without a word, staggered down the corridor, and dropped into the pilot's chair. His fingers flew across the controls, lifting the ramp and shoving the throttle forward, snapping the navicomputer into course lock for Coruscant.

As the ship lifted into the stratosphere, the world shrank beneath them. Greener, quieter, now holding nothing but ghosts and pain.

Behind Josh, C-3PO hovered uncertainly.

“Sir…? Are we not going to-”

“We’re done here,” Josh said quietly. Not cold. Just…hollow. 

His gaze didn’t leave the stars. His palm rested over the second lightsaber at his hip.

And still, Tyler’s laugh echoed in his head.

—

The silence of hyperspace broke into the lights of the Coruscant skyline. It was early morning, speeder traffic forming glowing ribbons between spires of durasteel and glass, the Jedi Temple a calm sentinel in the distance.

Josh guided the ship down with practiced movements, though his knuckles were white against the controls. Every twitch of his shoulder pulled at the wound slashed across his back, and sweat soaked his collar despite the ship's cooling systems. 

As they landed on the Temple’s platform, the hatch unsealed with a hiss.

Waiting at the base of the ramp was Master Sacarver.

She stood with her arms folded in the folds of her brown robes, chin tilted every so slightly as her sharp golden eyes scanned the ship’s entry. Mirialian tattoos marked her face, elegant, symmetrical lines for each trial she's survived in her youth. She was still as stone, but power radiated from her in a quiet, watchful way.

The moment the repulsors cooled and the hum of the engines faded, her breath caught. Something shifted. A tremor through the Force.

A loss.

Her eyes opened slowly, golden irises sharp as cut glass. She already knew.

Josh descended the ramp, each step slower than the last, as though gravity had grown heavier with each meter he crossed. His tunic was scorched across the back, stiff with dried blood. He didn’t try to hide the injury, or the second saber clipped to his belt. He couldn’t. 

Sacarver met him halfway across the platform. She didn’t speak for a long time. Just looked at him, past the wound, past the grime and ash, to whatever sat carved behind his silence.

When she finally did speak, her voice was low. Not accusing. Just tired.

“Where is Keons?” 

Josh didn’t lift his eyes, not speaking a word. Just looked at her.

She nodded, just once. Her gaze drifted to the horizon, and for a breath, they both stood in the quiet, sharing the weight of what wasn’t coming back.

“The Force…shifted when you entered orbit,” she said softly. “Like a bridge collapsing.”

Josh closed his eyes. He didn’t trust his voice enough to answer.

“You’ll need healing,” she added after a pause. “And rest. But the Council is requesting your presence.” 

Josh gave a single nod and started forward. She stepped aside without another word, falling into step beside him as they moved toward the Temple. She didn’t ask what happened. She didn’t have to.

Behind them, the landing lights dimmed. The sky above Coruscant pulsed with air traffic and bleak sunlight.

The walk from the landing platform to the Council spire felt longer than usual. Josh’s boots echoed against marble floors, each stepped weighted with pain and memory.

Sacarver walked beside him in silence, her presence calm and grounded. A small medical droid hovered behind, emitting soft chirps as it scanned his back and began spraying a numbing agent along the raw edges of the burn.

“Hold still,” it said in a mechanical voice, tugging his scorched robe away. “This will stabilize the tissue for now.” It applied a sterile sealant to the raw wound running down his back, the remains of Tyer’s blade strike.

Josh didn’t respond. He didn’t feel like talking. Not to the droid. Not to anyone. 

The doors to the High Council chamber parted with a whisper of ancient stone and polished durasteel. Josh stepped forward into the circular expanse, Sacarver just behind him. The morning light streamed in through the high windows, catching motes of dust in golden shafts that danced in the still air. Every footstep he took echoed faintly across the polished floor.

Ten Masters regarded him from their seats. Not one spoke. Not one shifted.

Some looked to the saber at his hip, the one that was not his. Master Keons’ hilt. The scorched, blackened metal was a silent witness to the events on Corellia. Beside it, Josh’s own saber hung like a question mark.

Behind him, a medical droid glided silently away, cradling Josh’s folded robe in sterile hands. The soft hum of its repulsors faded into the background.

It was Master Reisdro who spoke first. His voice, sharp as a vibroblade and every bit as unforgiving, cut through the silence.

“You failed to eliminate the Sith presence.”

It was not a question. It was a pronouncement.

Josh lifted his chin despite the fire lacing through his spine. He spoke with control, though it trembled at the edges.

“The Sith escaped. But not before-”

“You were sent with a Jedi Master,” Reisdro continued, his eyes unreadable. “And he perished. Struck down by a Sith you did not stop.”

Josh’s jaw tightened. “I tried. Keons… Keons held him off to give me a chance. He fought with everything-”

“You will not raise your voice in this chamber, Padawan,” Master Nills said, quiet but commanding. His voice rang with the weight of protocol and patience worn thin. “You were warned of the risks.”

Josh inhaled, deep and ragged, and bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. The room stilled again.

From the far side of the chamber, Master Lisden leaned forward slightly. A scholar before a warrior, his voice was quiet, contemplative. “This Sith… describe him. What did you see?”

Josh swallowed, steadying his breath. “Human. Tall. Brown hair. Pale skin. Eyes… crimson. Not from anger, not in the moment. Just, permanently red. Like the color had been burned into him.” He hesitated, then added, “He never wore a mask. He wanted to be seen. Smiled the entire time. Like it was personal.”

“Arrogance is common in their kind,” Master Vetomo murmured.

“He used two blades,” Josh continued. “Red. Wielded both as if they were extensions of his arms. I-I'd say Vaapad, but not wild. It was controlled. Precise. But the real danger wasn’t his blades. He… he fought with the Force.”

Master Andre’s heavy brow furrowed. “Elaborate, Padawan.”

Josh exhaled, his hands flexing unconsciously at his sides. “It wasn’t just strength. It was precision. Like he could thread the Force like a needle. While we fought, he… he got into my head.”

Master Lisden tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “Explain. What do you mean, ‘got into your head’?”

Josh’s mouth went dry. His voice came quieter now. “He showed me Keons dying. Over and over. Not memories. Visions. My Master, screaming, cut down again and again. I was watching it while trying to fight him. I couldn’t pull free. Couldn’t think. It was like... I was trapped in his will.”

Silence fell, heavy and total. It was Sacarver who finally spoke from behind him, her voice low and razor-sharp. “He knew the bond between them.”

“A cruel tactic,” said Master Nills, his tone cold with controlled anger. “But calculated. He meant to break the Padawan before the fight had even ended.”

Master Listo nodded slowly. “It is a rare skill, this projection of fear. Rarer still when so targeted. This was no brute. This was a craftsman.”

Master Nills slowly stood, arms folding behind his back with the precision of ritual. His eyes, usually calm pools of knowing, had darkened with something heavier. Concern, perhaps. Or foreboding.

“I know of one who could do such a thing,” he said at length, his voice even but laced with tension. “Not from our Order. Never part of it.”

The chamber grew stiller, as if the room itself was listening.

Nills paced a few deliberate steps, then turned his gaze toward the ring of seated Masters.

“Years ago, a report came from Raxus Prime. A boy, untouched by Jedi training, killed a man without so much as raising a hand. No weapon. No contact. Just pure will… and rage.”

He paused. The silence was dense.

“We dispatched a spy,” he continued, voice quieter now. “But by the time our emissary arrived, the boy was gone. Vanished. Taken.”

Whispers stirred among the Council. Murmurs not of surprise, but recognition.

“There were rumors,” said Master Lisden, his long fingers steepled beneath his chin. “Of Sith movement in the outer systems. Hidden enclaves. Cells.”

“A rumor,” Master Reisdro countered coolly, “is not proof.”

Master Nills did not flinch.

“No. But in time, the name surfaced again. Not in Republic records. Not even among the Archives. Only through whispers: Tyler Joseph. Taken by the Sith Lord Nico Bourbaki.”

At this, a few Masters straightened, visibly disturbed. Master Vetomo’s brow furrowed deeply.

“Bourbaki,” he echoed. “The mind-sculptor. The one who hollowed his victims and filled them with terror.”

“More than a sculptor,” Nills said. “He is a smith. And Tyler, his blade.”

His gaze turned sharply to Josh.

Master Sacarver stepped forward from behind him, her presence steady, her voice even.

“And now he has taken Master Keons from us.”

A hush fell again. No one dared interrupt her.

She placed a hand on Josh’s shoulder, grounding him with a calm that belied the storm in the chamber.

“The blade has struck.”

Master Listo finally broke the silence, voice smooth as flowing silk but edged with caution.

“We must not allow anger to guide us. The Sith provoke emotion for this purpose. To draw us out of balance.”

“But action must be taken,” said Master Lisden, eyes narrowing. “If Bourbaki has indeed created a weapon that walks like a man, we cannot ignore it. The death of a Master cannot go unanswered.”

“We do not answer with vengeance,” Sacarver said firmly. “Only with justice.”

Master Andre’s voice broke the silence, rough and resonant like the rumble of distant thunder.

“Then we must consider what kind of justice can reach a boy forged into something less than human… and more than danger.”

His words hung in the air, weighty and laden with the burden of their truth. His gaze swept over the gathered Council, each face a study in thought, but all undeniably troubled.

Lisden, ever the measured voice of reason, spoke next, his tone soft but unwavering.

“Through meditation,” he suggested, his words slow and deliberate as if each syllable was a stepping stone toward understanding. “Through the Force. We must seek clarity before motion.” His eyes held a flicker of something, perhaps uncertainty, but also a quiet resolve. 

The Force had always guided them in times of uncertainty, but this felt different. They weren’t simply looking for answers. They were searching for a way forward in a world that was rapidly slipping from their control.

Master Nills, his expression impassive but with an edge of quiet determination, nodded slowly.

“Tomorrow,” he said. His voice, though calm, carried a finality that echoed through the chamber. “At first light, we reconvene. Let the Force speak.”

His words were a command, but there was a depth to them that made them feel like a prayer. An invocation for guidance in dark times. His gaze lingered on the empty seat where Keons had once sat, and for a fleeting moment, the weight of the loss seemed to settle on him as well.

The Council began to rise, robes whispering like the soft caress of the wind against stone, the sound so quiet it almost seemed to belong to a different time. One by one, the Masters stood, each lost in their own thoughts, but none of them moving too quickly, as if the gravity of the moment kept them rooted in place, unable to break the solemn stillness that had filled the room.

No further words passed between them, but the air was thick with the unspoken. Loss lingered, casting a shadow over them all, loss of life, of peace, and perhaps of hope itself. Fear pulsed beneath the surface, palpable and raw, as they each faced the truth of what was to come.

But there was resolve, too. A quiet, steely determination that they would meet the darkness head-on, even if they didn’t fully understand it. They would face it, as Jedi always did, and trust that the Force would show them the way.

As the Council filed out, their steps barely audible against the marble floor, the weight of their departure lingered in the chamber. The air crackled with tension, thick with the knowledge that tomorrow’s meeting would be a turning point. No one spoke again, for there was nothing left to say.

Josh remained standing, motionless, caught between the echoes of what was and the storm of what must come. His eyes lifted to the seat where Master Keons had once sat. Now cold and vacant, a silence louder than any voice.

The weight of the loss settled on his shoulders, heavy and unyielding, pressing him into the stillness of the chamber. He felt like the walls themselves were closing in on him.

Without a word, he turned and walked away from the empty seat, his footsteps resounding through the hollow quiet. The corridor beyond the Council chamber stretched before him, long and dim, with ancient pillars reaching toward a vaulted ceiling, their shadows stretching like forgotten memories. Each step seemed to carry the weight of a thousand unspoken words.

He didn’t hear Sacarver behind him, but when she spoke, her voice cut through the silence as if it had always been there.

“You wear your grief like armor.”

Josh stopped. His shoulders tightened, but he didn’t turn to face her. Sacarver’s robes whispered faintly as she came to stand beside him, her presence composed, unmoving, like still water hiding powerful currents.

“I can feel it,” she said softly. “The weight in your chest. The fire beneath your breath. You speak of your Master’s death with reverence… but beneath your words, there is something else.”

Josh looked down. His fingers twitched at his sides.

“…I don’t know what you mean.”

Her gaze turned toward him, calm and penetrating.

“You do.”

He met her eyes finally, and for a moment, the mask he wore cracked. His voice was low.

“He was everything. He believed in me when no one else did. And now...”

“And now you want the one who took him from you to suffer,” Sacarver finished. Her voice did not accuse, nor condemn. It simply named.

Josh’s jaw clenched.

“I want justice.”

Sacarver’s brow furrowed slightly.

“Justice does not burn. It does not consume. But what I sense in you… is hunger. One carefully hidden, yes, but the Force does not lie. It moves through you, and I feel its tremble. Rage. Grief. Fear.”

Josh looked away, his voice sharp with restraint.

“What would you have me do? Forget him? Pretend I am unaffected?”

“No,” Sacarver said gently. “Grief is the price of attachment. You loved him. That love is not weakness, but what it becomes might be. If you let pain steer your path, you will not find justice. You will find vengeance.”

He was quiet for a long moment, then finally said, “He died saving me. If I don’t stop the one who did this, what was that sacrifice worth?”

“His sacrifice was already worth something,” she replied. “It preserved your life. And what you choose to do with that life, that is what will honor him, or betray him.”

Josh closed his eyes, struggling to steady his breath.

Sacarver stepped closer, her tone softer now.

“You are not alone, Josh. The path forward is not one you must walk with fury in your heart. We will find the Sith. But how we face them… that is the test.”

She turned to leave but paused, looking back over her shoulder.

“If you cannot quiet the storm inside you… it will speak for you, when you are silent. And in battle, it will answer before you do.”

Then she walked away, her robes trailing behind her like a shadow of wisdom.

Josh stood there, the silence pressing in, the faint hum of the Temple around him, and the flicker of something cold and burning just behind his ribs.

—

Tyler descended toward Moraband.

The sky was thick with ash and stormlight, the sun a blood-dimmed smear on the horizon. The Sith Temple rose like a blackened fang from the planet’s surface, carved from stone so old it seemed to hum with ancient malice. Obsidian spires jutted from the surrounding plateau, each one topped with grotesque carvings of long-dead Sith Lords locked in eternal torment.

Tyler’s ship touched down on a jagged landing platform that jutted out over a chasm, the wind howling through the surrounding canyons like the wailing of spirits. The temple itself loomed just ahead. Massive doors lined with red-etched runes, stairs descending into blackness beneath a crumbling arch. The air smelled of sulfur and dust and the copper sting of blood long dried.

And standing there, precisely at the platform’s edge, was his Master.

Nico Bourbaki.

Clad in layered robes of deep black, the hood of his cloak drawn low, his hands folded calmly beneath his sleeves. He did not move, nor speak, as Tyler exited the ship. The wind tugged at Tyler’s coat and hair, but Bourbaki’s robes remained still. Untouched by the world around him, as if even nature dared not cross him.

Tyler approached, slow and steady, expression guarded. He knelt.

“My Master.”

A long silence.

Then, softly, “You failed.”

Before Tyler could respond, the air vanished from his lungs.

He was lifted off his knees by an unseen force, his body seizing as the invisible grip coiled around his throat. His boots scraped the stone as he was dragged upward, choking, eyes wide, struggling uselessly against the iron grasp of the Force.

“You were told,” Bourbaki said, voice low as a whisper but cutting through the wind like a blade, “Capture the Padawan. Or kill him, if you had no choice.”

The pressure tightened. Tyler’s vision darkened at the edges.

“But I...” he croaked, barely audible.

The grip eased slightly. Not out of mercy, never that, but so Tyler could speak.

“I killed the Jedi Master,” he gasped. “Keons. The Padawan escaped. But Keons, he’s dead. He died by my blade.”

A beat of silence.

Then, the pain returned with a snap.

Tyler was slammed hard to the ground, the breath knocked from his chest. He lay there, twitching, as Bourbaki took a slow step forward. The Sith Lord’s face remained hidden in the shadow of his hood.

“You will not speak unless given leave,” he said coldly. “You report. You do not boast.”

Tyler’s jaw trembled. He tasted blood, bit his tongue, maybe. He didn’t care. He pushed himself slowly to his knees again, wincing at the sharp ache in his ribs. The fury behind his eyes burned white-hot. But he kept his head down.

“Yes, Master.”

Bourbaki circled him now, his boots soundless against the stone.

“You slew a Jedi Master. A feat worth noting. And yet the Padawan lives, wounded, yes, but not broken. He will carry his pain. He will grow from it. And next time, he may be more dangerous than you.”

Tyler didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Not without permission. But inside, his thoughts screamed.

I crippled him. I made him see his Master die again and again. I carved the fear into his bones. What more do you want from me?

But the words stayed sealed behind gritted teeth.

Bourbaki finally stopped, standing behind him now.

“There will be no next time, unless you learn discipline. You are not yet the blade I require. You are still… molten. Unshaped.”

Another silence.

“Go below. Meditate in the tombs.”

Tyler raised his head just slightly, startled. “The catacombs?”

“You will sit with the dead until your fire is worthy of purpose. Or until it burns you alive.”

Tyler bowed again, jaw tight.

“As you command.”

He rose slowly, straightened his cloak, and turned. The wind howled like distant screams across the barren plateau, but Tyler no longer listened. Without a word, he stepped toward the Temple.

The ancient ziggurat loomed over him, a monolith of forgotten cruelty. Black stone stacked in impossible symmetry, veins of red crystal pulsing faintly beneath its surface, like a heartbeat buried in stone. It had no doors, no banners, no guards. It didn’t need them.

As he crossed the threshold, the blood-red sky of Moraband was devoured behind him.

The Temple swallowed him whole.

The passage ahead was no hallway. It was a wound in the mountain. Jagged obsidian walls closed around him like the throat of some slumbering beast. The air was dense with the scent of ash and something older. Iron, rot, and incense that had long burned out.

No torches lined the walls. No lamps guided the way.

Here, the dark was not absence. It was presence.

Tyler walked into it without hesitation. The stone beneath his boots echoed in a rhythm too slow to be his own. Downward. Always downward. Toward the catacombs.

He did not ignite his saber. He did not summon light. He walked.

The deeper he descended, the colder the air became. Not the cold of wind or weather, but a weight, like something ancient pressing against his skin, crawling beneath it. The stone steps grew uneven, cracked by age and something far less natural.

Eventually, the passage widened.

A great arch yawned open before him, its edges carved with curling Sith script. Tyler didn’t need to read them to know what they said. The air itself whispered their meaning.

ENTER IN POWER OR BE BROKEN.

He stepped through.

The catacombs of the Sith Temple stretched out before him like a graveyard of time itself. Vaulted chambers lined with sarcophagi, their lids marked with the names of long-dead Lords. Statues of warriors and monsters alike loomed from the walls, frozen in agony or triumph. At the chamber’s center stood a stone dais, encircled by crude black spires, each one humming faintly with old power.

Tyler knelt there. He closed his eyes.

And the tombs noticed.

At first, it was only a subtle shift in the air. A hush, as if the ancient dead were pausing, listening.

Then the whispering began.

No words, just sounds, scraping across the edges of thought. Like breath against bone. The cold deepened.

Tyler focused, breathing in, drawing the darkness toward him, through him. He thought of Keons’s face as the light left his eyes. He thought of Josh’s scream as the vision broke him. He thought of Bourbaki’s hand around his throat.

Rage surged. But something else rose with it.

Laughter.

Not his own.

A voice, dry and hollow, echoed in the air around him, not spoken aloud, but felt inside.

“You seek purpose, child.”

Tyler’s eyes snapped open. The room was unchanged. And yet something stood in the shadows beyond the dais, wreathed in smoke and nothing.

He couldn’t see it. But he could feel it. Ancient. Hungry.

“You are not yet shaped. Your fire is wild. Untamed. But it sings to us.”

He rose slowly to his feet, fists clenched at his sides.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

Silence.

Then, slowly, movement. A swirl of shadow coalesced before one of the sarcophagi. Out of it stepped the silhouette of a Sith, tall, lean, armored in jagged crimson plates. A mask covered its face, twisted and smooth, expressionless.

“A forge is no place for pride. Only pain. Only truth.”

Tyler’s breath came shallow, the Force crackling faintly at his fingertips. He didn’t dare attack, not yet. Whatever this was, it wasn’t Bourbaki.

“Why are you showing yourself to me?” he asked, quieter now.

“Because you are on the edge. Between blade… and ruin.”

The specter tilted its head.

“Let us see which you become.”

And then the shadows lunged.

Darkness exploded through Tyler’s mind like shrapnel. A scream tore from his throat as reality fractured. He collapsed, hands scraping stone, knees hitting hard. Black tendrils wrapped around his thoughts, dragging him under.

Visions.

Fire. Endless battlefields soaked in blood and ruin. Jedi, shattered, lifeless, falling at his feet. Stars dying one by one. A throne raised from the bones of the fallen, draped in silence. And at the center of it all...

Joshua. Bloodied. Bruised. Smiling.

Tyler’s scream echoed into nothingness.

When it was over, he found himself on his hands and knees. Shaking. Gasping. Blood dripped steadily from his nose. His tunic clung to him, soaked through with sweat. The chamber was silent once more, no visions, no voices. Just the echo of his breath. But something inside had changed. He rose slowly. The rage had crystallized.

Behind him, the darkness stirred.

“Get up.”

The voice was sharp as frostbite.

Tyler turned, just enough to see the tall figure emerging from the shadows, robes like spilled ink, face gaunt, unreadable. Bourbaki. He did not smile. He did not offer praise.

“You endured,” Bourbaki said flatly. “Barely.”

Tyler wiped the blood from his upper lip, teeth clenched. “I saw-”

“I know what you saw.” Bourbaki’s tone cut across his words like a blade. “They showed you what they wanted you to see.”

“They?” Tyler asked, voice hoarse.

“The Sith Lords of the past,” Bourbaki said. “Their spirits linger here. Their will still festers in the roots of this temple. And for some reason, they see potential in you.”

He circled Tyler slowly, like a wolf inspecting a wounded rival. “You should be dead. Broken by what they forced into your mind. But you stood back up. That means something. It means you may yet be useful.”

Tyler’s fists curled at his sides. “Useful for what?”

Bourbaki stopped behind him, voice low and cold in his ear. “Your first real mission.”

He stepped into view again and held out a small, dark holopad. Angular, Sith-made. Its surface pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat.

“Yavin IV,” Bourbaki said. “A place soaked in blood and legacy. The ruins of old temples. Whispers of power still echo there. And now… something else. Someone else.”

Tyler’s heart twisted. He didn’t need to ask.

“The Padawan.”

Bourbaki nodded. “He’s there. You will go. You will observe. You will not engage, not unless you’re ordered.”

Tyler took the device. It was heavier than it looked.

The Sith Lord’s eyes narrowed. “Defy me again, Tyler. Then you shall die alone, screaming, and forgotten. Like the rest of the failures buried beneath our feet.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Tyler turned, walking toward the exit of the chamber. Step by step, his fear hardened into resolve.

He would go to Yavin IV. He would find Josh. He would understand why the dead had shown him that vision. And what they wanted from him.

—

The Jedi Temple stood quiet in the hours after the Council’s adjournment. The twin moons above Coruscant cast silver light through the tall windows of the outer halls, cutting long shadows across the floor.

Josh sat alone in the meditation chamber, legs crossed, palms resting on his knees. The space was dim, silent except for the low hum of repulsorlifts in the distant sky. The holoprojector in the center of the room flickered gently, cycling through archived star maps. He wasn’t looking at them.

He couldn't focus.

Keons’ saber lay beside him, heavy despite its size. He hadn’t been able to return it to the armory. It felt wrong. Like surrender.

His thoughts spun. Not of peace, not of serenity, but of Tyler. The face burned into his mind, smiling, taunting, while Keons died beside him. The phantom pain of that connection still throbbed at the edge of his mind, like the echo of a scream.

He clenched his jaw.

The door hissed open. He didn’t have to turn. He felt her presence before she even stepped inside.

Master Sacarver.

She entered soundlessly, her steps light on the chamber floor. She didn’t sit beside him, she stood, hands folded into the sleeves of her robe.

“Your thoughts betray you, Joshua,” she said softly, voice calm but unyielding. “Even now. Anger. Sorrow. The thirst for vengeance.”

Josh closed his eyes tighter.

“I’m trying. I am. ”

“And yet it pulses through you, like a current through water,” she said, stepping closer. “You would hide it, but it is there. You burn too loudly to be ignored.”

He opened his eyes, gaze locked on the floor.

“He killed Master Keons. I watched him laugh while he did it. I should’ve stopped it. I should’ve...”

“‘Should’ is the weight of regret,” Sacarver said gently. “It does not bind the dark side, but it feeds it. As does guilt. As does revenge. ”

Josh looked up at her now.

“You think I’m falling.”

“I think you are hurting, ”she said, finally kneeling beside him. “And that pain has claws. If you do not face it… it will shape you. Like it shaped him. ”

She didn’t say Tyler’s name. She didn’t have to.

Josh’s jaw tightened.

“I can’t just forget him. Or what he did.”

“Nor should you,” Sacarver said. “But remembering is not the same as clinging. Let go of what you wish you had done, and see what you must do now.”

He looked down at the saber again, Keons’ saber.

“And what is that?”

“Be still. Breathe. Remember what we are taught.” Her voice softened. “We do not hunt Sith out of hatred. We do not seek retribution. If your path crosses his again, let it be in defense. Not vengeance.”

Josh didn’t answer.

Sacarver placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

“When the Council reconvenes, they will speak of strategy, of politics. But you must decide what path you walk. The boy who stood in this chamber today… cannot be the one who faces him next.”

She rose and moved toward the door. Paused.

“When you are ready,” she said, “come to the archives. There is more to Tyler Joseph than what you saw. And more to the Sith Lord who made him what he is.”

The door closed behind her, leaving Josh in silence once more.

This time, it was the silence he chose. He picked up the saber. Held it in both hands, and exhaled sharply.

“Master Sacarver, wait.”

Josh stood, his hands gripping Keons' saber with an intensity he hadn’t expected. The weight of the hilt felt like a burden and a call to action all at once. He looked at it, then back at the door, the silence pressing in on him from all sides.

“I want to go now. I’m ready.”

Her footsteps halted just beyond the doorway.

There was a pause, and then Sacarver’s voice came through, calm but not without a hint of something deeper.

“Are you sure?”

Josh’s gaze flickered to the saber again.

“I need to know who he is,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm of thoughts in his mind. “Before I face him again.”

A long moment passed, and then Sacarver spoke, her tone accepting.

“Then come.”

With a single nod from her, Josh followed Sacarver down the corridor, his steps echoing in the stillness of the temple. The air shifted as they neared the archives, the energy of the place seeming to settle around him like a second skin.

The archives were vast. Vaulted ceilings stretched above shelves of data-holos and ancient texts, all wrapped in a hush so deep it pressed on the skin like velvet. Soft light from hovering hololamps glowed blue along the edges of the marble floors. The massive central holoprojector stood dormant, waiting.

Josh entered through the south corridor, his robes fresh, provided by a medical droid, his shoulders heavier than they had been just days before. Keons’ saber was clipped at his side. His own remained on the opposite hip.

Master Sacarver walked beside him, her footsteps quiet, her gaze ahead, but there was a purpose in her movements that he couldn’t ignore. They moved together toward a private alcove at the far end of the archives, where a small, sleek holopanel awaited.

As they approached, Sacarver’s hand swept through the air, activating the panel with a practiced gesture. A pale blue image flickered into view.

It was a dossier. Tyler Joseph. The figure rotated slowly in midair, a younger version of the boy Josh had faced on Raxus Prime, no older than ten or eleven. His face was defiant even then, his eyes full of something cold and unrelenting.

Sacarver didn’t look up from the file but spoke calmly, her voice filled with quiet gravity.

“I told you there was more.”

Josh stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied the image.

“He looks... younger than I expected.”

“This was taken from the original Temple report,” Sacarver continued, her fingers skimming across the panel as the file zoomed in on the image, showing a snapshot of the boy taken the day after the incident on Raxus Prime. “Filed the day after he killed a man. A child, yet capable of something none of us expected.”

Josh’s heart tightened. The boy in the image seemed so… ordinary. But he knew better than to let appearances deceive him. There was more beneath the surface, and Sacarver was about to reveal it.

"Why wasn't he stopped then?" Josh asked, voice barely above a whisper as his fingers brushed the edge of Keons’ saber, now a constant weight by his side.

Sacarver’s eyes lifted to meet his for a moment before she spoke again.

“The Jedi were too late. They couldn’t reach him before he disappeared.”

Josh crossed his arms.

“You think Bourbaki took him then.”

Sacarver nodded.

“The report suspected as much. A local informant believed a Sith cult had been active on Raxus for years, operating in secret, waiting for Force-sensitive children. When the incident happened, when Tyler killed with the Force and no weapon, it sent up alarms.”

Josh watched the rotating image closely.

“How did he do it?”

“According to the witness, he simply looked at the man. The victim dropped, as if choked, but no marks, no visible wounds. It was… surgical. Just like you described.”

Josh’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

“So even then…”

“Even then, his gift was precision. Fear turned into a blade.” Sacarver turned to look at him now, her gaze steady. “But fear alone doesn’t hone that skill. Someone taught him how to use it. Refined it. Rewired him into what you faced.”

Josh nodded slowly.

“Bourbaki.”

“More than a Sith,” she said darkly. “A sculptor of minds. He does not break them. He remakes them.”

The image shifted again. This time it was not Tyler, it was Nico Bourbaki. Hooded, his face mostly obscured except for his mouth and chin. There was an eerie stillness to the hologram, like the figure might start speaking on its own.

“We don’t know how old he is,” Sacarver continued. “Or even if that’s his true name. The archives list him as a phantom, appearing across three systems in different forms, under different names, but always leaving behind the same trail: dead Jedi, vanished Force-sensitives, broken records.”

Josh stared at the image.

“How do you fight someone like that?”

“You don’t,” Sacarver said. “Not directly. Not if you let him lead.”

Then she reached into her robe and pulled out a slim datachip. She handed it to him.

“Training files. Reports on similar cases. Some Jedi believe Bourbaki is trying to recreate the Rule of Two. Others think he’s building something worse.”

Josh took the chip carefully, like it might burn him, and nodded slowly, bowing his head. “Thank you, Master.”

She placed a hand briefly on his shoulder, calm, grounding once more.

“May the Force guide you,” she said. Then she turned and left him with the flickering holos and the silent faces of the past.

—

The Temple was silent.

Outside Josh's chambers, the towering spires of Coruscant rose like jagged teeth, piercing the endless night sky. The city-planet pulsed with life below, the hum of speeders and distant chatter reverberating through the layers of steel and stone.

Lights flickered across the endless skyline, a tapestry of neon and shadows. Inside, the chamber was quiet, the only sound the soft, rhythmic hum of the city far below. A single meditation candle flickered faintly in the corner, its dim light casting wavering shadows across the sleek walls of the room.

Josh lay tangled in his sheets, breath shallow, sweat sticking his tunic to his skin.

Then, the air changed. It was subtle at first. A low hum under his thoughts, like something ancient stirring beneath the floor. The temperature dropped. The air thickened.

And then, he wasn’t in his bed anymore.

Josh stood barefoot in a space that had no walls, no sky. Shadows curled like smoke at the edges, slow and deliberate. The floor beneath him shimmered like obsidian glass, fractured with veins of pale blue light. The silence here wasn’t empty. It watched. His breath fogged in the cold.

Then, out of the darkness. Him.

He emerged like a ripple in a dream, tall and composed, his presence slicing through the stillness with deliberate grace. His robes were darker than shadow, layered and tailored with sharp, angular Sith embroidery that caught the ambient light like broken glass. A faint trail of smoke twisted at his heels, more like a suggestion than something tangible.

Josh’s stomach turned.

“You,” he hissed.

Tyler smiled, his sharp canines poking out. Slow, lazy, like someone who already knew the outcome of the game but was still enjoying the opening moves. His hands were clasped behind his back, posture relaxed. His hair was tousled in a way that looked deliberate. His golden-red eyes glinted, feral and amused.

“Well,” he said, voice smooth and amused. “Isn’t this cozy?”

Josh took a defensive stance, even if he wasn’t sure what good it would do here.

“How are you doing this?”

Tyler tilted his head.

“Do you think I’d pick this place, Jedi? No windows, no candles, no ambiance? Please. If I were responsible, we’d be somewhere far more intimate.”

Josh’s expression darkened.

“This is a forced connection. Through the Force. This kind of link... it’s supposed to be voluntary.”

“Then maybe,” Tyler said, circling slowly, “we hate each other so violently, the Force couldn’t resist playing matchmaker.”

Josh’s fists clenched.

“You’re enjoying this.”

Tyler gave a soft, mocking chuckle.

“Can you blame me? You’re more interesting than I thought. All that anger, locked behind noble eyes and Jedi dogma. You hate me. I get that. But you’re afraid of how much of that hatred feels...good.”

Josh turned, following him.

“You don’t know me.”

“I don’t have to.” Tyler’s tone shifted, lower, intimate. “The Force knows you. It’s peeling you open like a book. Your fear. Your need to be better than your pain. Your guilt.”

He stepped closer.

“And then, of course... there’s me. ”

Josh’s pulse surged.

Tyler’s voice dropped to a purr.

“Tell me, does it haunt you that I’m in your mind? That I see pieces of you you’d rather forget? That your thoughts reach for me in your sleep like a half-remembered name?”

Josh’s mouth went dry.

“I loathe you.”

“I know.” Tyler’s smile turned sharper. “That’s why it’s working.”

Josh felt it. The tether between them, pulsing like a nerve. He didn’t understand it, couldn’t control it, and that made it worse. The Force had tied them together in a way that defied explanation. This wasn’t a bond forged through trust, or training. It was violent. Unnatural.

And yet… it fit.

“You think I’m afraid of you?” Josh said, his voice hoarse.

Tyler took another step, now within arm’s reach.

“No. I think you’re afraid of what you feel when you’re near me. The rage. The temptation. The freedom.”

Josh shook his head, lip curling in disgust.

“You’re delusional.”

“And yet,” Tyler whispered, leaning close, “when I close my eyes, I see it. A vision. You, standing tall on a battlefield of broken Jedi. Your robes tattered, your saber ignited. And your face... serene.”

Josh recoiled, fury bursting through his chest.

“That’s not me.”

“Not yet,” Tyler said, almost softly. “But the Force has... potential. It sees things we don’t. Maybe it’s warning us. Or maybe it’s telling us what’s already inevitable.”

Josh lunged.

He reached to strike, pure instinct, but his hand passed through Tyler like smoke. The Sith didn’t move, didn’t flinch. Just smiled.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” Tyler murmured.

The tether snapped.

Like a rubber band recoiling, the connection ripped apart. Josh woke with a cry, sitting bolt upright in bed. His chest heaved, his skin ice-cold and slick with sweat. The candle had long since burned out. The air was still, but he swore he could still feel Tyler watching from the darkened corners.

The datapad on the table blinked, silent and patient. His saber lay nearby, a mute witness to everything he’d just endured.

Josh ran a hand through his short hair, fingers trembling. This wasn’t a dream. This was something else. And somehow, he already knew: The bond hadn’t closed. It had opened.

And it would be back.

Chapter Text

Josh stood quietly at the back of the room, the weight of the Council's discussion pressing down on him. His hands were clasped behind his back, the faint hum of the Temple’s walls filling the silence. He wasn’t sure when the tension had started to rise, but it was suffocating now.

Master Nills’ voice broke the silence, calling their attention to the heart of the matter.

“The Sith are not just lurking in the shadows, they are already in motion. We must stop them before they can strike again.”

The words hung in the air like smoke, heavy with foreboding. His mind wasn’t fully on the conversation. It was drifting.

Josh’s thoughts wandered, unspooling back to the night before. He’d gone to bed seeking rest, only to be pulled, without warning, into a connection he hadn’t initiated. It struck like a storm, fierce and sudden, the Force tearing open between them with wild, unrestrained energy.

Tyler had been there. Uninvited. Overwhelming.

It wasn’t a simple brush of presence, it was a forceful intrusion, like a cold wind rushing through a door left ajar. Josh had barely registered the shift before he was drowning in Tyler’s presence: dark, coiled with malice and curiosity, probing at him like fingers pressed against a bruise.

A vision followed: vivid and twisted. Tyler had described it in chilling detail: Josh, standing over a heap of fallen Jedi, smiling like he’d found peace in the carnage. The words alone were enough to paint the image in Josh’s mind, grotesque and wrong. It hadn’t been a projection, it hadn’t needed to be. The connection between them made every word sharper, more visceral. Tyler had turned the moment into a trap. Not a conversation, but a provocation.

Tension crackled between them. Tyler radiated danger, but beneath the menace was something else. Flirtation, soft and sinuous, threading through the vision like a dare. It unsettled Josh more than the violence. It tempted.

Even now, the remnants clung to him like smoke. Tyler’s voice still whispered in the back of his mind. The bodies. The chill. The feeling of being watched.

What haunted Josh most, though, was the pull. That edge of darkness, seductive and waiting.

Master Nills’ voice pulled him back to the present.

“Joshua,” he said, turning to him with a piercing gaze. “You’ve been closest to the situation. You know more about this threat than anyone else here. You will go to Yavin IV.”

Josh’s heart skipped a beat. Yavin IV. The name rang a bell, but it wasn’t the planet itself that hit him, it was the mission. Reconnaissance. He hadn’t expected to be the one chosen. Especially after losing his Master. It felt like being tossed straight into the storm.

But in his gut, something clicked. This was what he’d trained for. This was his duty, to Keons.

“You will investigate the planet,” Nills said, voice firm. “And report back on any connections to Bourbaki. We need answers.”

The words landed heavy on Josh’s chest. He nodded slowly, tension coiling in his spine. He already knew who would be waiting for him there. There was no doubt in his mind. Tyler was expecting him. Watching, maybe even laying the next move in some twisted game.

“I understand,” Josh said, his voice steady despite the storm swirling inside him.

Sacarver’s gaze met his then. Her piercing eyes seemed to look straight through him, her words cutting like a blade.

“Remember, Josh,” she said, her voice calm but stern, “this is not about revenge. It is about stopping the Sith threat. Do not let your emotions cloud your judgment.”

The warning struck him like a punch in the gut, the reminder of the rage he’d been trying to keep locked away. His fist tightened at his side, but he forced himself to breathe, to hold it in check. She was right, he knew that. This was not about revenge. It was about stopping a war before it even had a chance to truly begin.

Josh’s thoughts circled back to Keons, to the anger, to the gaping hole left in the wake of the Jedi Master’s death. But now was not the time. Not now. 

“I won’t forget,” Josh said, his voice clipped, even though his heart thundered in his chest. It was almost like saying it out loud could banish the emotions threatening to burst free.

Master Nills gave a brief nod, signaling the end of the discussion.

“You leave as soon as possible. And, you will go alone.”

The weight of the mission, of what was being asked of him, settled into Josh’s bones like winter chill. The Jedi Council had spoken. He had been chosen, not just to go, but to go alone. Yavin IV waited, cloaked in mystery and danger, and now so did his future.

As the Council began to rise, their robes whispering against the stone floor like dry leaves in a windless temple, Josh remained still for a moment longer. The silence stretched, charged with unspoken expectation. Then, with a shallow breath, he bowed respectfully and turned to leave.

Each step out of the chamber felt heavier than the last. The doors closed behind him with a resonant hiss, sealing away the warmth of candlelight and ancient wisdom. The corridor beyond was long, lit only by the glow of high-set sconces that threw his silhouette ahead of him. His boots echoed sharply against the polished stone, the rhythmic sound somehow both grounding and unnerving.

His mind wouldn’t settle. It spun with fractured thoughts. Keons and the fire of his death, Tyler’s unsettling presence the night before, the tension still coiled in his chest like a storm waiting to break. But Josh pressed forward, letting the discipline of his training wrap around him like a cloak. There would be time to unravel all of that later. Now, there was only the mission.

The docking bay was quiet when he arrived, a cavernous space filled with the low thrum of idle engines and the faint tang of coolant in the air. The ceiling arched high above, ribbed with durasteel and lined with shadow. Ships were nestled into their assigned berths, most at rest, but his was already powered and waiting.

His Jedi starfighter sat poised on the deck like a blade at rest, sleek, angular, and gleaming under the hangar lights. Compact but deadly, it was built for speed, reflex, and precision. A mirror of the Jedi who flew it. Josh approached slowly, his fingers grazing the cool durasteel of the fuselage. The hull vibrated faintly under his touch, alive and waiting.

A familiar series of beeps and whirs echoed across the bay, drawing his attention. Josh turned just as R2-D2 rolled into view, his dome swiveling eagerly. The astromech chirped a greeting, short, insistent, and full of determination.

Josh raised a brow.

“You’re coming too?”

R2 let out an enthusiastic affirmative beep, rolling up beside the fighter and eyeing the astromech socket behind the cockpit like it was already his.

Josh huffed a quiet laugh through his nose.

“Of course you are.”

R2 had been with him from the earliest missions. Loyal, sharp, and always ready to dive headlong into danger without hesitation. Somehow, the little droid always found his way into the middle of things. And despite everything, Josh was glad for it. That quiet, constant presence gave him something to lean on when everything else felt uncertain.

As R2 lifted himself into the socket with a soft mechanical whirr and click, Josh stepped toward the open cockpit. He climbed in, hands moving by instinct as he settled into the seat. The ship came alive around him, lights flickering to life, systems humming in sequence.

Josh gave the console a final glance, then looked toward R2.

“Let’s do this, bud.”

He closed the cockpit canopy with a soft hiss, sealing himself in. The cockpit was dimly lit, only the glow of the control panels providing any light. The low hum of the engines was steady and familiar. A sound Josh had grown to associate with peace and clarity over the years. But not today. Today, it thrummed with something heavier. Purpose. Tension. A quiet urgency in every note.

R2 let out a contented beep from his socket behind the cockpit, followed by a short sequence of whistles that Josh recognized instantly as reassurance. An old comfort between the two of them, especially before missions like this.

The starfighter eased forward, repulsorlifts humming as it hovered above the hangar deck. With a shift of the yoke, Josh guided the sleek Jedi vessel out of the docking bay and into the endless blackness beyond the atmosphere. The planet below fell away beneath him, bathed in the soft blue glow of its upper atmosphere, its curvature slipping out of view as the stars unfolded around him.

Josh aligned the coordinates, fingers dancing over the navicomputer. R2 chimed in with a confirming whistle, the hyperspace calculations completed in record time.

With a final pull of the lever, the stars outside stretched and elongated into shimmering lines of light. White and gold streaks that bent and twisted around them, and then, with a thunderous surge, the ship leapt into hyperspace.

The cockpit was bathed in a soft blue glow as the swirling tunnel of hyperspace encompassed them. The constant motion outside the viewport was both beautiful and disorienting. A dance of energy and motion that reminded Josh just how far from home he was about to go.

Inside the ship, there was silence but for the faint hum of the engines and the occasional chirp from R2. But within that silence, Josh felt it. The subtle, ever-present current of the Force. It moved around him, through him, a gentle tide carrying him forward even as uncertainty churned in his chest. The Force was calm here, like the eye of a storm, and Josh let himself lean into it.

But even in that calm, something tugged at the edges of his thoughts.

Tyler.

To the moment their minds connected through the Force.

One second, he was alone in his mind. The next, Tyler was there.

It hadn’t been deliberate. Not from either of them. The connection had sparked like flint on stone. Josh had felt Tyler’s presence with a clarity that cut through him. Not like the passive touch of most minds in the Force. Tyler had been loud. Alive. Burning.

Josh had reached for control, instinctively pushing back, only to find Tyler meeting him with equal pressure. Not aggressive, not invasive. But not passive, either. He leaned into the connection. Testing it. Testing him . The tension had surged between them. Anger, confusion, something sharper underneath. Tyler had spoken, Josh remembered that, teasing, maybe, but there was an edge to it. A flirtation laced with fire.

Josh’s self-control had faltered.

For a heartbeat, rage cracked through him like lightning. He’d nearly lashed out, not with a weapon, but with the Force itself, driven by something base and wild and entirely un-Jedi. And Tyler hadn’t retreated.

He’d stayed. And smiled.

That had unmoored something in Josh more than any threat could’ve. The intensity of the moment, the closeness, the sheer knowing it had shaken him. Even now, in hyperspace, with stars stretching into light beyond the canopy, he could still feel it.

Tyler was there, somewhere in the galaxy. And his presence still echoed, like a drumbeat under Josh’s skin. Josh pressed his palm to the console, grounding himself. This mission was dangerous. The Council knew it. He knew it. But so was Tyler. And whatever this bond between them was.

It wasn’t going away.

Not yet.

—

Tyler’s Sith starfighter dropped out of hyperspace with a low, predatory hum, its angular black hull gliding against the backdrop of the stars like a knife through silk. Before him, Yavin IV loomed, an emerald world wreathed in clouds and thick jungle canopy. Its surface shimmered with heat and life, broken only by the ancient stone ruins that dotted the planet like the bones of something long-dead and waiting to be disturbed.

He let out a breath, eyes narrowing with anticipation.

The fighter descended through the atmosphere, clouds boiling past the cockpit as the hull trembled with reentry. Flames licked the wings briefly before fading into mist and dense jungle fog. As he dipped lower, the planet came into sharp relief.

Towering trees with thick canopies, vines tangled like veins across the ruins below, and the ever-present hum of nature hiding things not yet seen. The Massassi ruins stretched like scars across the jungle floor, still humming with ancient, forgotten energy.

Tyler grinned as he angled the starfighter toward a small clearing flanked by tall trees and a natural rise in the terrain. He landed with precision, the repulsorlifts kicking up leaves, dirt, and a scatter of broken vines. The ship hissed as it powered down, steam venting from the underbelly like a beast releasing breath.

He popped the cockpit and stood slowly, the wind brushing the edges of his dark robes. The ship’s sharp lines and blood-red accents shimmered under the hazy jungle light. It wasn’t sleek like a Jedi’s, it was aggressive, compact, and built for a hunter. As he stepped onto the moss-covered earth, his boots made no sound. The jungle swallowed noise like it swallowed light.

He took a moment to scan the horizon. His senses brushing out through the Force. No sign of Josh yet. But he would be there. 

The thought sent a thrill through him. He wasn’t sure if it was the mission that stirred him or the chance to see Josh again. The boy burned so brightly in the Force. So reactive. So easy to unravel. Tyler’s lips curled into a smile as he moved to the edge of the treeline, vanishing beneath the dense foliage. He found a vantage point tucked between two massive roots of a twisted tree and crouched low, his black cloak blending into the shadows.

From beneath his robes, he withdrew his Sith communicator. A compact, obsidian device etched with crimson lines that pulsed faintly with dark side energy. He activated it with a subtle twist of his hand. The device came to life with a low hum, casting a red glow onto his face as a hooded hologram flickered into view.

“My lord,” Tyler said, voice low and measured. “I’ve arrived on Yavin IV. No sign of the Jedi yet… but when he arrives, I will seek him out.”

The figure of Darth Bourbaki did not speak at first. The hologram simply watched him, silent as a tomb. Then, with a voice like cracked stone: “Do not underestimate him, Tyler. He is still raw… but raw power is often the most dangerous.”

Tyler bowed his head slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The hologram vanished with a hiss, the communicator dark once more. Tyler slipped it back into his robe and looked out over the clearing.

Soon.

He’d feel Josh’s presence come closer. And when he did… the game would begin again.

—

Josh moved carefully through the treeline, each step deliberate on the uneven jungle floor. The thick canopy overhead filtered the light into shifting green patterns, and the air was heavy with moisture and the scent of ancient earth. Birds shrieked in the distance, and somewhere far off, something large shifted in the underbrush, but it wasn’t what held his attention.

He couldn’t feel Tyler. That in itself was damning.

Josh’s senses stretched out across the dense terrain, combing the jungle for anything unusual in the Force. But there was nothing. No flare of dark emotion. No oppressive signature. Only silence.

Which meant Tyler was here.

The Sith was using concealment. Josh could feel the absence like a bruise under his skin. The Force didn’t lie, even when it was being twisted. It just... went quiet. Flat. That void was enough to keep Josh on edge. His fingers hovered near his saber hilt, brushing against the curved metal now and again as he walked. Not out of fear. Out of readiness.

Still, he moved forward.

The jungle thinned as he approached what remained of the old Massassi village. Crumbling stone walls, moss-eaten statues, and structures long overtaken by vines stood like echoes of something half-remembered. Time had pressed its weight heavily here, but even so, a few souls remained. The last remnants of a people who had refused to fully abandon the old ways… or the old places.

Josh nodded respectfully as he passed a pair of weather-worn elders seated near a crumbled archway. Their skin was marked with age and soot, their eyes following him with wary curiosity. One of them, a wiry man with a sunken face and sharp cheekbones, stood and stepped forward.

“You’re a Jedi,” the man said simply. Not a question. A statement.

Josh inclined his head.

“I’m not here to cause trouble.”

The elder studied him for a moment, then slowly gestured toward the deeper ruins, where the forest swallowed ancient temples and stone courtyards.

“There was… something here earlier. Wrongness in the trees. In the earth.” He tapped his chest. “It made my bones ache.”

Josh’s jaw tightened.

“Did you see anyone?”

“No. But the jungle held its breath.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Something’s waiting out there, Jedi. Hiding. Watching.”

Josh gave a slow nod of thanks and moved on, the words curling in his thoughts. Something’s waiting out there. He could feel it too. Not a presence, just the shape of one, like a shadow cast with no source. Tyler wasn’t far.

Josh stepped past a fallen column and deeper into the ruins, every sense on alert.

The hunt had begun.

The air was thick with the heavy, damp scent of the jungle, the stones around him slick with moss and age. He moved cautiously, aware of the oppressive silence that weighed on him. Despite the heavy feeling in the air, he couldn’t help but marvel at the old architecture, an ancient civilization, long gone, yet still embedded in the fabric of this place.

He didn’t stop. His boots crunched softly on the overgrown ground as he moved deeper into the labyrinth of broken walls and faded statues. Each step seemed to draw him further into the heart of the jungle, and the silence pressed in closer. The further he ventured, the more he became aware of the Force at work, or rather, the lack of it. The natural rhythms of the planet felt muted, almost as though they were being blocked out.

Tyler was here. He had to be.

Josh’s gut told him that much. The cold absence of the Sith’s presence in the Force, combined with the eerie stillness, made his instincts prickle. Tyler was hiding himself, but not well enough to mask the underlying feeling of threat that lingered in the air like an invisible storm cloud.

Still, Josh pressed on, even as every fiber of his being told him to be ready. His fingers danced lightly over the hilt of his lightsaber. It wasn’t fear, not really. Just a steady awareness, an understanding that danger was close, but its shape was hidden.

A sharp rustling from the underbrush drew his attention. Josh’s hand tightened around his saber hilt, and his body went still, every muscle coiled like a spring. He reached out with the Force, sensing the trees, the stones, the earth beneath him, but nothing. Only that same silence. The rustling stopped as quickly as it had started.

He exhaled slowly and continued forward, his pace a little more cautious now. The ruins seemed to close in around him as he made his way toward the central temple of the village. The air felt heavy, like the past had never truly left this place, and its weight was still pressing down on the present.

He could feel the eyes of the jungle on him. The trees, the ancient stones. They seemed to observe his every step, like the place itself had a consciousness. Josh’s hand moved from his saber hilt to rest at his side, fingers curling and uncurling as he approached the ruins. His steps echoed softly in the silence.

Then, another sound. This one not from the jungle. A faint hum. Soft, almost imperceptible, but unmistakable. A signal, one he knew well.

It was coming from within the ruins. His heartbeat quickened.

Josh’s gaze shot upward. The stone archway ahead, the last marker of the Massassi, loomed before him like the mouth of a cave.

He moved forward, his footsteps soundless on the stone as he approached. The hum of energy was louder now, vibrating through the Force, calling him forward. But there was no escaping the feeling that he was being led into a trap. That was the way of the Sith, always manipulating, always drawing their prey in, only to strike when it was too late.

The trees surrounding the ruins seemed to shift in the corner of Josh’s vision. A shadow flickered, too quick to catch. A soft rustle of leaves, a whisper of movement, then stillness again. Josh's heart rate quickened. He could feel Tyler in the Force, but the sensation was… distorted. There, and not there. Always just out of reach, like a ripple in the water that vanished before he could grasp it.

Tyler was playing with him, shifting through the trees, always a step ahead, using the environment as a shield. Every time Josh tried to pinpoint him, Tyler slipped further into the shadows, a wraith lurking in the depths of the jungle. It was maddening. The dark energy surrounding him was constant, yet fleeting, a puzzle Josh couldn’t quite solve.

Josh took a deep breath, centering himself. He wasn’t going to fall into Tyler’s trap. Not this time.

He moved forward, closer to the archway, every nerve in his body alert. His senses stretched out, reaching, searching for any sign, any trace of Tyler’s presence. He could feel the faintest stir in the Force, a ripple, a disturbance. 

Josh's hand twitched toward his lightsaber hilt, but he didn’t ignite it yet. There was no need to reveal his position if Tyler was still toying with him. Not when he couldn’t even see his opponent.

Suddenly, a faint rustle from a nearby tree caught his attention. He turned sharply, his gaze locking on the movement in the shadows. But it was gone. Just a flicker in the corner of his eye. Tyler’s presence seemed to shift again, flowing from one tree to the next, as if the jungle itself had become an extension of him. The Sith was moving like a shadow, blending seamlessly with the natural surroundings, his dark energy blending with the Force until Josh couldn’t tell where the trees ended and Tyler began.

Josh’s breath quickened. Tyler was watching him, always one step ahead. He could feel his presence moving through the trees, never fully there, but always too close to ignore. It was like a game for him, each moment of tension building, each move designed to unsettle Josh.

"Come out, Tyler," Josh muttered, his voice steady, though his heart was pounding. "We both know you’re here."

A soft chuckle echoed from somewhere in the trees, the sound light but filled with malice.

“Oh, I’m here,” Tyler’s voice drifted through the branches, just a whisper at the edge of Josh’s hearing. “But the question is, Jedi, are you ready for me?”

Josh's muscles tensed. He couldn’t see him, but he could feel Tyler’s dark presence all around him. The Force rippled like disturbed water, and in it, Josh felt the thrill of danger, the cold touch of the Sith’s influence.

“Stop hiding,” Josh called, his voice louder this time, but the challenge hung in the air unanswered. The tension stretched on, thick and suffocating, as the jungle seemed to hold its breath. Tyler was playing with him, but Josh wasn’t about to be anyone’s pawn.

He moved forward again, slower this time, keeping his senses sharp. His hand stayed near his lightsaber, ready to ignite it at a moment’s notice. With each step, the air grew heavier, the jungle seeming to press in around him as though it too was waiting for the inevitable.

Tyler’s presence suddenly grew still, the rhythm of his movements ceasing as if the very air around him had stilled. Josh’s senses strained, but the faintest stir of the Force told him that Tyler had found a perch, positioned just above him. He wasn’t moving anymore.

The atmosphere was thick, heavy with anticipation, and the hairs on the back of Josh’s neck prickled. The faint rustle of leaves above him was the only warning before a figure dropped lightly into view.

Tyler. He settled onto a thick branch, perched just above eye level, his red eyes gleaming through the shadows of the trees, and a subtle flicker of gold just beneath the surface. They were not the eyes of a Sith fully in control, but something darker, wilder, a hint of something feral.

A slow, almost predatory smile spread across Tyler’s face as he looked down at Josh, the eerie glow of his eyes almost hypnotic. He let out a soft, low chuckle that made the air around them seem even colder.

“Didn’t think you’d be so eager to chase me down, Jedi,” Tyler purred, his voice like velvet. Smooth, but with a razor edge hidden beneath. He leaned forward slightly, the air between them crackling with the charge of unspoken tension. “But I suppose there’s something about you that makes me want to toy with you, just a little longer.”

Josh’s heart raced, but he kept his focus, resisting the pull of Tyler’s words. It was clear Tyler was trying to get under his skin, trying to exploit something deep within him.

“Why are you playing games?” Josh’s voice remained steady, though there was an underlying strain. He could feel the dark allure in Tyler’s presence, like an invisible thread trying to reel him in. “What do you want?”

Tyler’s grin widened, his red-and-gold eyes glinting with something sinister and teasing. “What do I want, Jedi? That’s a loaded question.” He leaned in, his tone dropping lower, just enough to send a chill down Josh’s spine. “I think what I want… is to see how much you can endure. How much of this darkness you can stand before it breaks you. Envelopes you.”

Josh’s grip tightened on the hilt of his lightsaber, but Tyler’s gaze never wavered, never flinched. His eyes moved over Josh slowly, with that unsettling, almost predatory interest. There was no mistaking the hint of malicious satisfaction in his voice when he spoke next.

“You’re stronger than you let on,” Tyler continued, his smile curling at the edges. “I felt it, you know. Last night... when we connected. I wonder… how much more of you I could pull into the dark.”

Tyler’s words hung in the air like poison, each syllable laced with a magnetic pull that Josh felt deep within his bones, despite himself. The darkness was there, pushing at the edges of his mind, trying to invade.

“Stop,” Josh’s voice was sharper now, more forceful. “I’m not falling for this, Tyler.”

Tyler’s laughter was low, dark, and knowing. He leaned back against the tree behind him, his eyes still locked on Josh, radiating arrogance.

“Oh, I’m not asking you to fall, Jedi,” he said softly. “I’m just… waiting. Waiting for you to make a choice. The question is: which side will you choose?”

Josh’s pulse raced. Tyler’s confidence, his darkness. It was all like a baited trap. A challenge. But Tyler’s eyes, those glowing red-gold eyes, kept pulling at him, as though they could see through his resolve, seeing something Josh couldn’t even fully admit to himself.

There was no mistaking it now. Tyler wasn’t just playing with him. He was testing him. Trying to break him down. And worse, Josh knew deep down that Tyler’s twisted flirtations, his constant prodding, were more than just games. It was all about breaking his control, finding a crack to slip through. To manipulate him, to make him question his choices, his resolve.

But Josh wouldn’t give in. He couldn’t. Not to Tyler. Not to this.

“I'm not yours to manipulate,” Josh said firmly, his eyes steady as they met Tyler's.

Tyler’s smile grew, and the edge of danger sharpened in his voice.

“Not yet,” he replied. “But I think I can convince you.”

The air between them thickened, the weight of Tyler’s dark energy pressing against Josh, testing his limits, but Josh wasn’t backing down. Not this time.

Tyler watched him, eyes burning with intensity, like he was savoring every moment of the game they were playing. Tyler’s eyes glittered with mischief as he straightened, his grin never wavering. Then, with an effortless fluidity, he pushed off the branch, his form twisting through the air before landing lightly on the ground just a few feet in front of Josh. The impact was barely audible, but it was enough to send a slight tremor through the earth beneath their feet.

Josh didn’t hesitate. In an instant, his lightsaber snapped to life with a sharp hum, the blue blade casting a bright glow in the twilight shadows of the forest. His stance was firm, his grip tight, prepared for whatever Tyler might throw at him.

Tyler tilted his head, his smile still wide, the flicker of amusement never fading from his face. He regarded the lightsaber for a moment, his eyes gleaming with an almost playful hunger, as if Josh’s reaction was exactly what he had hoped for.

“Oh, don’t get too hasty now, Jedi,” Tyler teased, his voice dripping with sarcasm and flirtation. “I thought we were just having a little chat.” He raised a hand in mock surrender, stepping back a pace. “Or is that what you Jedi do? Always jump to violence when someone gets a little too close?”

He shook his head in mock disappointment, the edges of his lips curling with amusement.

“You’d think with all the restraint you’re trained to have, you’d show a bit more control.” He stepped forward again, closing the gap between them. His presence in the Force was unsettling. Dark, invasive, but still dangerously charming.

Josh’s saber crackled with energy, the hum of the blade vibrating through his fingertips. He held it steady, his gaze unwavering as he met Tyler’s.

“I’m not here to play games,” Josh said, his voice low, but laced with steel. “You’ve crossed the line. This stops now.”

Tyler’s eyes flicked to the blade, his gaze darkening, but his expression remained almost casual, too comfortable for the tension in the air. He raised an eyebrow, his voice lowering into a more dangerous tone.

“Stop? Oh, I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Jedi. You ignited the saber first. Not very Jedi-like to strike unless provoked. But then again…” He shrugged, his grin widening as he leaned in just slightly, his voice now a hushed whisper. “Maybe that’s what I like about you. You’re not so perfect.”

Josh could feel the pull of Tyler’s words, the insidious darkness weaving through his thoughts, trying to seduce him into the fight. But he couldn’t. Not now. He forced his focus back to the present, keeping his saber steady, his stance unyielding.

Tyler straightened again, chuckling softly.

“But I suppose, as a Jedi, you have your little rules, don’t you? You can’t attack unless I really give you a reason, right?” He took a step back, mockingly tapping his chin. “What’s it going to take to push you over the edge, I wonder?”

His voice dropped again, a hint of something more dangerous creeping in as he closed the distance between them once more.

“You’ve got such fire in you, Joshua. Such potential. It’s only a matter of time before you feel the draw of the dark side. I can see it in you… that little spark of doubt. That hesitation.”

Tyler leaned in even closer, his eyes practically glowing with an intensity that sent a shiver down Josh’s spine. His next words were quiet, almost like a dare.

“The question is… how much longer can you keep pretending that you don’t want to cross that line?”

Josh’s grip on the hilt of his saber tightened, but he didn’t move. He knew Tyler was trying to push him, trying to make him lash out, to give in.

But Josh wasn’t going to let that happen. Not today.

“I’m not going to fall for your games, no matter how much you pry and flirt,” Josh replied, his voice firm despite the pounding of his heart. 

Tyler stood there for a long moment, a glint of something dark flickering in his gaze. For the briefest second, his smile faltered, but it was quickly replaced with that same teasing, almost mocking expression.

“Flirt, huh?” Tyler mused, letting the word roll off his tongue like it was something both foreign and tempting to him. “Is that what you think I’m doing? Just flirting?” He grinned wide again, and there was no mistaking the predatory gleam in his eyes. “Maybe I’m just testing the waters. Seeing how far you’ll go, Jedi. How far you’ll let me push you.”

Josh could feel the weight of Tyler’s gaze on him, every word dripping with challenge, with temptation. But Tyler’s words didn’t have the same pull on him now.

Josh stood his ground, lightsaber humming, but his mind was clear. He wouldn’t let Tyler break his focus. Not now. Not ever.

Tyler’s smile never wavered.

“I’m just waiting for you to make your choice, Josh. Whether you like it or not... you’ll choose.”

Josh’s grip on his lightsaber tightened, but his voice remained steady, unwavering.

“I’ve already made my choice,” he said, meeting the other’s gaze without flinching. “I’m a Jedi. I’ll never be a Sith. I’ve chosen the light.”

Tyler’s laughter broke the tension, a low, rich sound that echoed in the shadows around them. He took a slow step closer to Josh, his presence in the Force expanding with every movement, like a dark cloud creeping in. The air between them seemed to hum with an almost electric charge.

“Oh, Joshua,” Tyler murmured, his voice softer now, filled with mock pity. “You think you’ve chosen, but that’s the problem. You’re still clinging to your little Jedi rules, your pathetic ideals. You’re so full of grief, of pain, of resentment. I can feel it. Every bit of it. You’re lying to yourself if you think you’ve let go of it.”

Josh’s heart skipped a beat. The words hit harder than he’d expected, and before he could push them aside, Tyler’s voice wrapped around him again.

“You’ve got that grief in you, don’t you? That loss, that guilt. And let me guess…” Tyler’s grin widened, predatory. “You can’t even let go of the attachments, can you? You still mourn your Master. You still carry that weight. That’s why you’ll never be a true Jedi. You’ll never be a Master. You’ll always be too tied to your past, too tangled in the things you refuse to let go of.”

The words stung. It felt like Tyler had reached into the deepest parts of his soul, where the rawest parts of his grief, his guilt, still lingered. He hadn’t wanted to admit it to anyone, not even himself. But Tyler was right. Every time he thought of his Master, every time the memories resurfaced, the pain gnawed at him. The things left unsaid, the loss that still felt fresh.

“Stop,” Josh’s voice was strained, a muscle in his jaw ticking with the effort to keep control. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Tyler ignored the warning in Josh’s voice. Instead, he stepped closer, so close that Josh could feel the heat radiating off his skin. There was a dangerous sort of allure in Tyler’s presence, something magnetic and dark, pulling Josh in against his better judgment. Tyler leaned in, just enough so that Josh could feel his breath on his face.

“You’re wrong, Josh,” Tyler whispered, his lips curling into that dangerous, knowing smile. “I know you better than you know yourself. I see the real you. the one hiding behind that Jedi facade. All that anger, that grief, that resentment ... It’s there, just waiting to spill over. All it takes is one push, one choice, and it’ll all come rushing out. And when it does…” Tyler’s voice dropped, a subtle darkness seeping into his words. “It will feel so much better than pretending you’re above it all. You’ll feel alive.”

Josh felt a flicker of unease in his chest, but he held his ground, his lightsaber crackling between them. Tyler was too close now. Close enough that the heat of his presence was almost suffocating, filling the air with tension.

Tyler’s eyes gleamed, something darker flashing in them. He moved even closer, until their faces were nearly touching, and for a brief second, Josh’s lightsaber flickered dangerously. A strand of Tyler’s hair caught the blade, a small tuft of it singed away in a puff of smoke.

Tyler didn’t flinch. If anything, the near miss seemed to amuse him even more. He grinned wider, his eyes flashing with an intensity that sent a shiver down Josh’s spine.

“Careful, Jedi,” Tyler purred, his voice dripping with mock affection. “You wouldn’t want to burn me, would you?”

Josh’s hand trembled slightly on the hilt of his saber, but his gaze remained fierce. He wasn’t going to let Tyler get to him. Not like this.

Tyler’s smile didn’t fade. In fact, it only grew more dangerous as he leaned in even closer.

“You know, Josh,” he whispered, voice hushed and almost sweet, “you’ve got so much potential. So much fire in you. It’s a shame the Jedi would never let you use it. I could help you find your true power... all you need to do is choose.”

Josh’s chest tightened, the temptation to lash out burning in his gut. He could feel his anger, his grief, his frustrations, rising to the surface, pushed to the brink by Tyler’s words, his proximity.

But he steadied himself, his breath steadying, as he reminded himself of his oath to the Jedi. Tyler couldn’t take that from him.

“I have made my choice,” Josh said, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “And it’s the Jedi.”

Tyler stepped back slowly, his smirk never fading.

“Then I suppose we’ll see just how long that resolve lasts, won’t we?” His voice dripped with a challenge, a promise that lingered in the air, dangerous and inviting.

A low hum broke the moment’s tension, Tyler’s lightsaber, only one of the two, igniting in a sudden snap-hiss of crimson light. The blade cast a blood-red glow across his face, illuminating the sharp grin still curling his lips.

He raised the saber slowly, deliberately, and tilted the blade until it kissed the edge of Josh’s. The contact was barely more than a whisper, but the sabers crackled and sparked, the magnetic resistance flaring as the opposing energies collided.

Josh flinched, just slightly, as the surge of heat from the contact singed across his fingers. The pain was sharp, real. A warning. The Force rippled with it.

“Feels real now, doesn’t it?” Tyler murmured, his eyes half-lidded, glowing faintly red and gold in the saberlight. His tone was sultry, taunting. “It’s not like in your temple drills. This? This hurts. ”

Josh clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around his hilt, but he didn’t push back. Not yet. The Jedi Code whispered through his thoughts. Only in defense… never in anger. But it was becoming harder to hold onto with every breath Tyler took near him.

The sabers remained touching, crackling with unstable tension. Josh could feel every arc of heat licking at his skin, the electric vibration of the blades dancing down to his bones. It hurt. More than he expected. And Tyler wasn’t moving away.

Instead, he leaned in closer, practically nose to nose now, letting the red glow smear across both their faces. The proximity was maddening.

“You want to strike me,” Tyler whispered, his voice rough with excitement. “You want to burn me for what I’ve said, what I’ve done. You feel that pain in your hand? That fire crawling under your skin?” His breath was quickened now, his voice a rasp. “That’s you. That’s your truth. You think it’s the Dark Side, but it’s just real. ”

Josh stood frozen, the pain and temptation wrestling in his gut. Tyler’s saber twitched just slightly against his, drawing another burst of sparks that scattered like embers. The burn deepened.

Tyler let out a breathy, almost pleased exhale.

“Oh, Joshua,” he purred, lips curving upward. “I didn’t know how beautiful you would look when you're trying not to fall.”

The red light pulsed between them, illuminating the fine lines of tension. One flicker, one twitch, and it would all explode.

Chapter Text

Josh’s grip tightened on his saber, knuckles pale. The crimson light bathed both their faces, dancing across Tyler’s sharp cheekbones and the edge of his satisfied smirk.

Then, with a snap-hiss, another blade ignited.

A second red saber burst from Tyler’s opposite hand, and with a smooth, practiced motion, he locked the two hilts together with a metallic click. The double-bladed weapon spun once in his hands with a low hum, slicing the air with a deadly grace.

Josh stepped back instinctively. “You’ve planned this,” he breathed.

Tyler’s eyes glittered. “I’ve waited for this.”

The first strike came fast. Tyler spun, the twin blades arcing toward Josh’s head like a scythe. Josh ducked low, rolling to the side, his saber flashing up to block the return swing. Sparks sprayed as red met blue, the clash echoing in the air like a thunderclap.

Tyler moved like fire. Fluid, unpredictable, burning with purpose. His double blade spun around him, an extension of his rage, his desire. Josh fought to keep pace, deflecting blow after blow, his jaw clenched with restraint.

“You’re holding back,” Tyler taunted, punctuating the words with a vicious overhead strike. Josh blocked it just in time, knees buckling under the force.

“I won’t become what you are,” Josh growled, pushing back hard.

Tyler grinned through gritted teeth, their faces inches apart. “Then you’ve already lost.”

With a sudden twist, Tyler drove one blade low. Josh barely sidestepped, the saber grazing his side, sizzling through fabric. He hissed in pain, stumbled, and then swung in retaliation, his saber catching the middle of Tyler’s staff, knocking it wide.

But Tyler only laughed.

Their dance became a blur of red and blue, fury and defiance. Josh’s movements were sharper now, driven by the sting of injury, by the rising fury he was trying so desperately to suppress. Tyler could feel it. He fed on it.

He whispered, voice like smoke, “Yes… that’s it. Let go.”

Josh roared and struck, fast, furious, reckless. And Tyler met him with a smile.

Their sabers clashed again, blue against red, light against heat, and the air between them pulsed with tension so thick it might have cracked if either of them breathed too hard.

Josh’s face was tight with concentration, sweat beading along his brow, jaw clenched. Tyler’s expression was something else entirely. Half pleasure, half hunger. He spun the double-bladed saber behind his back, the motion almost lazy, like a dancer showing off in the final seconds before the music dropped.

“You fight like you care, ” Tyler said, his voice lilting, teasing, even as he ducked a strike and retaliated with a wide, spinning arc of red light. “Is it for them? Or just to prove something to me?”

Josh didn’t answer, teeth gritted as he caught the staff mid-swing, locking it between both hands. Their faces came close again, sweat and sparks painting their skin. The hum of the sabers sizzled between them like a held breath about to break.

“You think I can’t feel it?” Tyler whispered, leaning closer, their sabers still locked between them, pushing and straining. “That heat rising in you. It’s not anger. Not really. It’s me. It’s always been me.”

He leaned in just a bit more. His lips nearly brushed Josh’s ear.

“You like this.”

Josh snarled, surging forward and shoving Tyler back. Tyler staggered but grinned through it, blood pounding in his ears, the thrill of the fight like lightning in his veins.

“I wonder,” Tyler said breathlessly, twirling the saberstaff once more and bringing it down in a diagonal slash that Josh barely dodged. “If I pin you, will you still pretend you hate me?”

Josh came back hard, striking low then high, rapid and unrelenting. His saber met Tyler’s spinning blade with bursts of crackling fire, but he couldn’t shake the echo of Tyler’s voice, that voice, whispering in his head, beneath his skin.

Tyler broke the rhythm again, stepping close, his saber sweeping wide to pull Josh’s guard apart. For a heartbeat, their bodies collided, pressed together in the heat of the fray, and Tyler smiled through his teeth.

“You’re handsome when you’re angry.”

Josh let out a frustrated growl and brought his knee up, slamming it into Tyler’s side. Tyler stumbled back, breath hitching in pain, but still laughing.

“I’m starting to think you hitting me is your love language.”

Josh charged, saber raised. Furious, burning, but no longer sure if it was only rage.

Tyler met him in kind.

The forest rang with the fury of their fight. Sabers crashing, light flashing off stone and wood. Josh’s breath came ragged now, his blue blade a blur as it blocked strike after strike. Tyler’s saberstaff spun like a storm around him, his movements sharp and elegant, red light slicing the air with every taunting swing.

But then, Josh faltered. Not physically. Not tactically. Emotionally.

Tyler had been chipping at the wall inside him, word by word, look by look and now the cracks gave way. Josh snapped. The change was instant.

His next strike was heavier, too heavy. Not refined, not balanced. It came from somewhere deep and boiling. He roared as he swung again, this time with both hands, forcing Tyler back. Red and blue light flared with every impact.

Tyler’s grin widened. “There you are,” he whispered, almost reverent, breath catching on laughter. “Oh, Josh, I knew you had it in you.”

Josh didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His vision narrowed to nothing but Tyler. His face, his smirk, the sound of his voice. His saber crashed down again, and again, relentless, brutal, sparks flying with every hit.

“You’ve never looked more alive,” Tyler gasped, stumbling under the force of the blows. “I love this version of you. Raw, wild-”

Josh shouted and struck again, high to low, forcing Tyler to block awkwardly. Tyler’s double blade twisted in his hands to defend, but Josh didn’t stop. He became a barrage. Fury powered him, precision replaced with passion, and it worked.

One blow cracked through Tyler’s guard. Another sent him reeling. A final, vicious strike knocked the saberstaff from Tyler’s hands. It clattered to the floor, one blade still sputtering before extinguishing in a hiss.

Josh stood over him, chest heaving, saber trembling in his grip.

Tyler looked up at him from one knee, hair falling across his flushed face, and laughed. Soft, delighted, breathless laughter.

“You finally stopped pretending,” he said, voice rich with admiration, chest rising and falling. “And god, it suits you. ”

Josh’s saber was still ignited, humming an inch from Tyler’s throat. His hand shook. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

Tyler tilted his head, eyes shining.

“Tell me, Josh,” he said, voice velvet, “do I still make you want to burn? Or was that just foreplay?”

Josh’s breath came in ragged gasps, the saber still trembling in his grip, its blue light casting sharp, searing shadows across Tyler’s throat. Every part of him screamed to end it. To burn Tyler out of existence and silence that mocking voice, that damn smile.

“You have no idea,” Josh hissed, the words tearing out of him, “how much I want to kill you.”

Tyler’s eyes sparkled like he’d just been kissed.

“Oh, I think I do,” he purred, unmoving beneath the humming blade. “It’s in your voice. Your hands. Your heartbeat.” He leaned just slightly forward, lips parting in an exhale. “You want me dead so badly it’s practically erotic. ”

Josh’s fingers twitched on the hilt.

“I want to rip you apart, ” he snarled, stepping closer, the saber now almost touching skin. “I want to see you beg. I want-” His voice broke, and he stopped. The silence that followed was thunderous.

Tyler only grinned, eyes half-lidded, flushed and euphoric like he’d been waiting for this moment for years. “Then do it,” he whispered. “Make me yours.”

Josh blinked.

Not in hesitation.

In horror.

The weight of what he’d just said, what he felt, crashed down like cold water over fire. His knuckles loosened. The saber, still aglow, quivered. He looked at Tyler, at the maddening calm in his eyes, the utter joy painted across his bloodied lips, and something inside him twisted. Something that shouldn’t be enjoying this.

“I…” Josh stepped back. Once. Twice. He looked at the saber, then back to Tyler, who was still kneeling, watching him with open, delighted hunger. Josh deactivated the blade with a snap-hiss. The sudden darkness felt deafening. “I’m not you,” he breathed, voice low, shaken.

Tyler tilted his head, almost disappointed, but still amused.

“No,” he said softly. “But you could be.”

Josh froze mid-step. The hiss of his saber’s deactivation still echoed faintly in the air, but it felt miles away now. His heart thundered in his chest, his back turned to Tyler, but he didn’t run. Couldn’t. He stood still. Rooted. Breathing. Fighting.

Inside, the Dark Side clawed at him like a second skin, whispering sweet, furious promises in his ear. It would be easy to give in. To turn. To end this twisted dance between them.

But he gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, and pushed. He thought of light. Of peace. Of the people who still believed in him. He thought of Keons.

The rage began to dull. Slowly. Unevenly. But it dulled.

Josh turned back around. He faced Tyler again, not with fire, but steel.

“I’m not going to fall,” he said. Steady now. “Not for you. Not for this.”

Tyler tilted his head, amused. “Mm,” he murmured. “That sounded exactly like someone trying to convince himself.”

Then, snap.

With a flick of his hand, the saberstaff flew from the mossy ground into his waiting hand.

Tyler caught it with a flourish, twirling it in one hand, then twisting, a soft hiss, and the staff split apart, two crimson blades now flaring to life on either side of him.

He rose slowly, fluidly, like it was a performance. One saber spun around his wrist idly while the other pointed loosely toward the floor. His smile hadn’t faded. If anything, it deepened.

“You really only have two choices now, Joshua,” he said, almost sweetly. “You either capture me, put your pretty little cuffs on and drag me back in chains…” He stepped closer, one saber lazily circling. “…or you kill me. I highly recommend the first option, by the way. I think I’d like it if you were in charge for once.”

His grin curved like a blade.

“Though I’d enjoy either.”

Josh shifted his stance, saber still off, but fingers poised over the hilt like a gunfighter at high noon. His heart had slowed, but the burn in his gut hadn’t vanished. It had just been tamed. Reined in.

And now, all that was left was the question: Could he really bring Tyler in without falling again?

Josh ignited his saber with a snap-hiss, the blue blade casting a resolute glow against the red. He settled into his stance, spine straight, eyes locked on Tyler’s with renewed focus. He wasn’t trembling now. He was centered .

“It’s not the Jedi way to kill you,” he said, voice low but unshakable. “So I won’t.”

Tyler laughed. Really laughed this time, full-throated and delighted, like Josh had just told him the world’s most charming joke.

“Oh, Josh, ” he said, tilting his head. “You precious little contradiction.” He rolled his shoulders and lifted both sabers, scarlet blades humming in anticipation. “What makes you think you’re the only one who got a mission?”

Josh’s eyes narrowed.

Tyler grinned wider. “My Master sent me to kill you. Or capture, if I was feeling generous.”

A beat of silence. Then Josh’s saber shifted ever so slightly.

“So we’re the same,” Josh said, slowly circling.

Tyler mirrored the motion, blades flicking in the air between them. “In more ways than you want to admit.”

And then they moved.

The clash was immediate. Blue and red exploding into sparks as they met mid-strike. Tyler came in fast, both sabers slashing in dazzling arcs, but Josh was faster now, more fluid, dodging, twisting, retaliating. Each hit sent ripples through the floor, each parry a chorus of gritted teeth and clashing light.

Josh moved with precision, clean, elegant, relentless. Tyler fought like a wildfire, unpredictable, intoxicating, deadly.

They were evenly matched.

Again and again they met, locked blades, faces inches apart. Josh’s breath was hot against Tyler’s cheek.

“You’re holding back again,” Tyler murmured, eyes gleaming. “Come on, lover boy. Let’s dance. ”

Josh growled and shoved him off, striking with a spin that nearly caught Tyler’s side. Tyler dropped one saber to avoid the blow, but in the same motion, swept Josh’s legs and sent him crashing down. Josh rolled, sabers locked again, until both hilts went flying from their hands in opposite directions, skidding across the dirt into the darkness.

They froze.

Then, slowly, Tyler raised his hands and clapped, three slow, exaggerated beats.

“Well done, Jedi,” he said, breathless, grinning, hair wild and face flushed from exertion. “Disarmed each other. How romantic. ”

Josh pushed himself upright, chest heaving, fists clenched.

“You’re enjoying this.”

Tyler stepped closer, not caring how exposed he was without a weapon. “Oh, Josh, I’m having the time of my life. ” His voice dropped, eyes glittering. “Every move you make, every swing. Like a love letter written in light and rage.”

He leaned in just enough for Josh to feel the heat of his breath. “And you still haven’t figured it out, have you?”

Josh didn’t flinch.

“Figured what out?” he asked, voice tight.

Tyler smiled, softer this time.

“I never wanted to kill you.”

Josh took a slow step back, but not to retreat. His stance shifted, shoulders squaring, feet grounding into the floor. No weapon. No lightsaber. Just his fists and the Force. It wasn’t ideal. It wasn’t smart. But he wasn’t letting Tyler go.

“You’re coming with me,” Josh said, voice hoarse but firm. “I don’t need a saber to stop you.”

Tyler blinked once. Then his lips parted in a slow, wicked smile. “Oh, wow. You’re serious.”

Josh didn’t answer. He simply raised his hands into a defensive guard. Awkward, uneven, barely passable.

Tyler’s eyes danced. “Oh, sweetheart, ” he purred. “They didn’t teach you how to fight without your shiny little glowstick, did they?”

Josh lunged forward with a straight punch, aiming for speed, but Tyler caught his wrist mid-air like it was nothing. With a sharp twist and a shoulder roll, he used Josh’s momentum against him, flipping him halfway and shoving him hard onto the ground.

Josh grunted, the air knocked out of him. He scrambled to rise, swinging again. Tyler ducked it easily, his movements fluid, precise. Lethal. He slipped around behind Josh, caught him in a half-choke hold, then let go just as quickly, like it was a tease.

“You’re clumsy,” Tyler murmured, circling again. “Your stance is too square. You favor your right. You’re trying and it’s adorable but…”

He feinted, then swept Josh’s legs out again, sending him crashing to his knees. He leaned in, lips close to Josh’s ear. “You’re like a baby bird learning to fly.”

Josh shoved up from the floor, fists clenched, face flushed with effort and humiliation. But he didn’t stop. “You’re stalling,” he growled. “Because you don’t want to hurt me.”

Tyler’s grin froze for a split second, just enough.

Then he chuckled darkly. “Who said anything about not wanting to hurt you?”

In a blink, he was on Josh again. A flurry of strikes. Open-palmed, brutal, calculated. Elbow to the ribs. Knee to the side. Josh blocked some, absorbed most. He swung wide, missed, and Tyler caught his arm mid-swing again, then twisted it behind his back, holding Josh against his chest like a predator with its prey.

Breathing hard. Both of them. Josh struggled. Tyler held him firm.

“Still think you can take me?” Tyler whispered, voice low and warm.

Josh hissed between his teeth. “You talk too much.”

Tyler leaned his head against Josh’s shoulder. “Only when I’m enjoying myself. ”

Josh’s breath came in ragged bursts, his arm twisted painfully behind him, Tyler's body heat at his back, voice curling against his ear like smoke. He closed his eyes. Centered himself.

Focus.

The Force flared in his gut, and he pushed. An invisible shockwave exploded outward. Tyler was blasted off him and thrown several feet back, landing in a crouch with a grunt, but already smiling again, his hair tousled and red eyes gleaming with exhilaration.

Josh staggered to his feet, shaking with adrenaline. The air between them thrummed with tension, Force-charged and volatile.

Tyler rose slowly, brushing dust from his sleeves like they were at a ballroom instead of a battlefield.

“Mmm,” he purred. “There’s that spark again. God, Josh, if you knew how good you look when you’re done pretending to be gentle…”

Josh didn’t answer. Just took a step forward, hands glowing faintly with energy, his saber still lost somewhere in the shadows. He didn’t need it. Not for this.

Tyler’s smile widened.

“But,” he said, tone cooling just a fraction, “if we’re playing serious now…”

He raised one hand.

Josh flinched, just a breath. The Force in the room twisted, suddenly sharper, darker. A tendril of cold crept into Josh’s mind, like ice water pouring into the cracks of his thoughts. Fear.

Invasive, artificial.

Tyler was projecting.

“You know I can do this,” Tyler said, almost tender. “I can make you see things. Feel them. Regret. Doubt. Pain.” He tilted his head, eyes soft with dangerous affection. “But I don’t want to hurt you, Josh. I’d rather… unravel you the fun way.”

Josh gritted his teeth, sweat beading on his forehead as the images started to flicker at the edges of his mind. Visions that weren’t real. Couldn’t be. But they felt real. They felt...

He forced the images back with sheer will, teeth bared.

“Get. Out. Of my head.”

Tyler dropped his hand, and just like that, the pressure vanished. He looked almost disappointed.

“You’re stronger than they told me,” he said lightly, strolling sideways in a slow, predatory arc. “I like surprises.”

He winked. “Especially ones with great cheekbones and anger issues.”

Josh narrowed his eyes, taking another step forward. “You’re not getting in my head again,” he growled.

“Oh, I’m already in there,” Tyler said, tapping his temple with two fingers. “And, I’m not leaving.”

Josh didn’t wait.

The second Tyler circled, Josh struck, fast, a brutal punch square to the jaw. Tyler staggered, caught off guard for the first time. Josh surged forward, fueled by clarity, not rage this time, purpose . A follow-up kick swept Tyler’s legs out from under him.

He hit the ground hard.

Josh didn’t give him a second to recover. He threw himself on top, knees pinning Tyler’s arms, and reached...

Through the thick trees, tangled roots, and brush, his lightsaber answered. It sang as it flew through the forest, smacking into Josh’s outstretched hand with a familiar weight.

Snap-hiss.

The brilliant blue blade roared to life, lighting the shadows around them and stopped just short of Tyler’s throat.

Pinned beneath him, Tyler blinked up, chest rising and falling rapidly. For the first time, something like fear flickered in his eyes. Not from the saber. From Josh. From the sudden certainty radiating off him, the power he was no longer denying.

And still...

Tyler's lips curved into that damned, lopsided smile.

“Well,” he rasped, breathless, “if you wanted me on my back, all you had to do was ask.”

The words were infuriating, a challenge, a taunt. Josh’s grip tightened, and for a moment, the blue blade hovered dangerously close to Tyler’s throat. The darkness inside Josh roared, urging him to strike. But there was something. Something that made him hesitate.

That something was in Tyler’s eyes.

As he blinked up at Josh, the red hue in his eyes seemed to shift, just for a split second. A flash of deep, rich brown, like polished wood or the color of earth after a rainstorm. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Josh swore he saw it. Something real behind the mask. Something human. It made his breath catch in his chest.

For the briefest of moments, Josh felt something he hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just the anger, the hatred, the need to defeat Tyler. It was something else. Something that made him question why he hesitated.

The brown in Tyler’s eyes, it almost made him feel for him.

But only for a heartbeat. That fleeting moment vanished, replaced by the confident, mocking smirk that Josh had grown to loathe. Tyler was still Tyler, no matter the color of his eyes. The man in front of him was the same one who had pushed him to the brink, who had taunted him, who had dragged him toward the darkness.

But for that moment, Josh felt a strange pull, a shift in his perception. He couldn’t deny it. Tyler’s humanity was there, and it almost made him reconsider.

Almost.

But then he remembered the mission. Remembered the weight of his responsibility. And he pressed the saber closer to Tyler’s throat, the heat from the blade warming his skin.

“This isn’t a game.”

Tyler tilted his head against the ground, lips still curled. “No,” he said. “It’s not. And you look incredible when you finally stop pretending otherwise.”

Josh leaned in slightly, the heat of his saber singeing the fabric at Tyler’s collar. “Give me one good reason not to end this right now.”

Tyler stared up at him, cocky facade flickering but not vanishing. “Because you don’t want to.”

He was breathing hard. Still smiling. But under the bravado, there was a flicker of something else, something uncertain.

“…Do you?”

Josh pressed the saber closer, the blade hissing as it grazed Tyler’s skin, leaving a thin, burning line along his neck. A faint smell of singed fabric and flesh filled the air, but Tyler didn’t flinch. He didn’t move. He just smiled.

Josh's grip tightened on the hilt, his heart pounding in his chest, a sick mixture of triumph and disbelief.

“Not so cocky now, are you?” Josh growled, his voice raw. The blade sizzled against Tyler’s skin, the heat seeping through the fabric of his cloak.

Tyler’s eyes never left Josh’s. His smile never wavered. But there was a sharp, shallow inhale, just before he let out a sound that, at first, Josh wasn’t sure he heard right.

A moan. Soft, low, almost involuntary.

Josh’s breath caught in his throat, and for the briefest second, he froze, caught between fury and something… else.

Tyler’s eyes glinted mischievously.

“Mmm,” he purred, voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve got quite the edge on you now, Jedi.”

Josh’s pulse raced, and for a moment, all he could hear was the low hum of the saber and the thudding of his own heartbeat. Tyler’s pain seemed almost… enjoyable to him. But it shouldn’t be. 

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away, his blade still inches from Tyler’s throat, the heat rising between them.

Tyler’s gaze flickered to the blade, and then back to Josh’s face, his lips curling just a little. “You think you’ve won, don’t you?”

The words sliced through the tension like the hum of the saber.

“I haven’t won,” Josh whispered, tightening his hold, his voice quieter now. “But you’re not getting away.”

Tyler’s grin only deepened, that cocky, dangerous aura still intact despite the situation.

“You’re so cute when you’re serious,” he said, voice thick with amusement. “But I’m still waiting for you to realize… you’re already falling.”

Tyler’s hands were still pinned under Josh’s knees, and yet his voice didn’t shake. His body didn’t stiffen. He was still playing the game. And that made Josh’s grip on his saber falter just slightly. His mind was a battlefield, the weight of the saber in his hand suddenly feeling like a heavy burden rather than a weapon. The heat still sizzled against Tyler’s skin, but the moment stretched too long. Too much for Josh to ignore.

Tyler’s voice, his smile, that damn flirtatious glint in his eyes. It broke through Josh’s concentration. For the first time in their fight, Josh didn’t feel like the victor. He wasn’t sure if he was winning at all.

Josh backed off slightly, lowering his saber just enough that the blade no longer pressed against Tyler’s neck, the air between them cooling. His heart was pounding in his chest, his thoughts a mess. He should’ve finished this. He should’ve done it the second Tyler’s smirk came back.

But he couldn’t. Not like this.

Tyler didn’t move, didn’t seem phased by Josh’s hesitation. Instead, he closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again, a subtle challenge dancing behind them.

“Afraid, Jedi?” Tyler taunted, his voice smooth, almost teasing. “Afraid of the darkness that’s pulling you in?”

Josh’s grip loosened on the saber. His entire body screamed to strike, but something, somewhere, inside him told him to take a step back, to breathe, to regain the ground he was slipping from.

“You don’t get to talk about fear,” Josh muttered, his voice hoarse but steady. “You want to see fear, Tyler? I know what it is. You think you’re the one who controls it. But I’m not you.”

Tyler's gaze flickered with something unreadable. His lips pressed together, and for a moment, the cocky exterior cracked. Just enough for Josh to see something raw underneath.

But it was gone in an instant, replaced by that same twisted smile.

“I never said you were me, darling,” Tyler purred, his voice low. “But you’re getting so close to being like me. All it takes is one slip.”

Josh felt the sting of his words, but he didn't react. He turned his saber off slowly, the hum dying away, the blue light fading into the dark woods around them. The silence between them was thick, heavy with unsaid things.

“I’m not like you,” Josh repeated, more to himself than to Tyler. His breath hitched as he slowly pulled himself off of Tyler, his body moving mechanically, the weight of the moment starting to press down on him. The saber hummed faintly beside him, still ignited but hanging loosely at his side.

But just as he moved to shift away, Tyler’s hips shifted, just a little too soon, too quickly. A sudden, unexpected friction against Josh’s body sent a jolt of warmth through him. His face burned instantly, a blush spreading across his cheeks as his heart rate picked up, completely caught off guard.

Tyler’s eyes flickered with mischief, and before Josh could even process it, Tyler chuckled, softly, but undeniably amused.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were that eager, Joshua,” Tyler purred, the playful taunt in his voice unmistakable. “How cute.”

Josh’s mouth went dry, and he stepped back quickly, his mind spinning. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch Tyler or run, but either way, the heat in his face was undeniable. He couldn’t believe that had just happened.

Tyler, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He casually rolled his shoulders, rubbing his wrists like the earlier scuffle didn’t matter, his grin wide as ever.

“You’ve got a lot of strength in you, Jedi,” Tyler said, still toying with him, his voice almost fond. “I’ll admit, I didn’t expect that. You really know how to hold someone down.”

Josh’s thoughts were a blur, trying to focus on anything but the way Tyler’s teasing words had left him reeling. He clenched his jaw, turning his head slightly to the side to avoid eye contact. This was not the time, he reminded himself. Focus.

But Tyler wasn’t letting up. He stood, stretching his limbs, and glanced over his shoulder at Josh with a playful glint in his eye.

“Don’t be so shy now. It’s just me.” Tyler winked, his grin not losing a hint of its dangerous charm. “You’re strong. And deliciously reckless. I’m starting to think you might be fun after all.”

Josh’s fingers twitched near his saber. He could feel the tension in his chest building again, the fight and the frustration rising once more. But it was clear Tyler was having far too much fun. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline rushing through his veins. Tyler’s teasing, the way he refused to be rattled, was pushing him to his limit. He couldn’t let Tyler get the best of him again. Not like this. Not after everything that had already happened.

Josh’s grip tightened around his saber, and his stance shifted into a defensive position, muscles coiling, prepared to strike. “You think you’ve won?” Josh growled, his voice low but cutting through the air like a blade of its own. “I’m not done yet.”

Tyler raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his gaze, but there was something darker behind it. The grin remained, but it was the calm before the storm.

“You really think you can take me again, Jedi?” Tyler’s voice was playful, but his eyes were calculating. 

Josh’s frustration boiled over, his control slipping for just a moment. With a quick, calculated move, he lashed out, his saber flashing in a strike aimed directly at Tyler’s torso. But Tyler was ready, faster than Josh had anticipated.

In a blur, Tyler sidestepped, one of his sabers flying into his hand from the bushes. He blocked Josh’s attack with ease, then, using his superior agility, spun around and sliced upward, the red blade catching Josh just below the ribcage.

A sharp, searing pain exploded in Josh’s side as the blade cut through his tunic, leaving a trail of heat and blood. He staggered back, gasping as the wound started to form, the pain lingering and throbbing with every breath. His lightsaber slipped from his hand, falling to the ground with a dull thud.

Tyler stood over him, breathing evenly, his saber humming low. He lowered his blade, almost casually, eyeing Josh with a mix of amusement and something darker.

“See? That’s how it’s done.” Tyler smirked. “You should’ve known better.” 

He knelt down, putting a hand on Josh’s shoulder with mock tenderness, as if comforting a fallen friend. “But don’t worry. You’re not done yet. I’ll tell my Master all about you,” Tyler continued, his voice almost a whisper, thick with amusement. “How you couldn’t even bring yourself to kill me. Not yet.”

Tyler’s eyes gleamed as he stood back up, spinning his saber once, then deactivating it with a snap-hiss. “But soon, Jedi. Soon enough, you’ll have to make that choice.” He took a few steps back, looking down at Josh like a predator watching its prey.

Josh’s breath came in short, ragged gasps, and the sting from the wound on his side kept him from standing. He could feel the blood trickling, staining his tunic. His mind raced, both with pain and anger, but also a growing sense of dread.

Tyler had beaten him. Again.

As Tyler turned to walk away, leaving Josh kneeling on the ground, a soft chuckle slipped from his lips. Almost as if he couldn’t resist one final taunt. The smirk never left his face, but there was something else in his eyes now, a challenge that lingered, even as he began to step back into the shadows of the forest.

But then, as if to add insult to injury, Tyler paused. He turned slowly, letting the brief silence stretch between them, before his lips curled into a grin that was somehow both triumphant and amused.

“Next time, Jedi,” Tyler’s voice echoed, just barely audible. “Next time, I’ll finish what we started.”

Josh’s breath hitched. His side still burned with pain from the fight, his limbs heavy with exhaustion. The sting of defeat was sharp, but not as sharp as the way Tyler looked at him, like he was toying with something fragile and fascinating.

Tyler took a step back, eyes never leaving Josh’s. “Try not to miss me too much.”

Then, with maddening confidence, he winked and was gone, leaving only silence and the echo of his words behind.

Josh stood frozen, the ache in his body nothing compared to the turmoil in his mind. Tyler’s voice, his grin, that damn wink. They lingered, more unsettling than anything else.

And even as he struggled to catch his breath, Josh couldn’t deny the truth that settled in his chest like a slow-burning fire: this wasn’t the last time they would meet.

Chapter Text

Tyler’s flight back to Moraband was quiet. At least from the outside. The cockpit of his Sith Infiltrator was sealed tight, the ship a dagger of shadow knifing through hyperspace. Sleek, predatory, its obsidian hull drank in the starlight. Inside, though, Tyler was anything but still.

He lounged low in the pilot’s seat, one leg draped over the control panel with casual arrogance, fingers drumming out a restless cadence only he understood. The navicomputer beeped softly, stars warping and stretching across the viewport, but Tyler didn’t see them. His gaze was distant, his smile dangerous.

“I almost had him,” he murmured, voice curling like smoke in the stale air. “That fire in his eyes… the way his hands shook…”

The memory lingered: Josh’s lightsaber at his throat, burning with righteous fury and restraint. Always that cursed restraint.

Tyler laughed to himself, a low, hollow sound. Then he leaned forward, elbows on knees, eyes catching the flicker of hyperspace outside.

“Joshua,” he said aloud, tasting the name. “You think it’s control holding you back. But it’s not. It’s fear. And fear,” he chuckled, “is my favorite door to open.”

He tilted his head, remembering the exact moment Josh had nearly struck him down. The heat. The fury. That trembling edge between justice and vengeance. Tyler had felt it. Felt the crack in the Jedi’s calm like a fault line under pressure.

He hadn’t needed to win. Not really.

Josh had wanted to kill him. And he hadn’t. That was the victory.

By the time the navicomputer beeped again, signaling reversion, Tyler’s plan had already coalesced. Bourbaki would demand answers. Would snarl at failure. But Tyler would offer something far more valuable than a corpse.

“Why destroy what can be converted?”

The stars snapped back into pinpricks. Before him stretched the scorched world of Moraband. Ancient Korriban, its cracked red surface scorched by twin suns and haunted by the lingering wails of Sith long dead. The planet loomed like a wound in space.

The ship descended swiftly toward the Valley of the Dark Lords. As he guided it in, Tyler rehearsed his lines under his breath, every word a calculated step.

“He’s already on the edge.”

"The anger. The grief. The desire.”

"He just needs a little… guidance.”

The Infiltrator touched down with a hiss of hydraulic steam, the black hull seething with the heat of reentry. Its wings folded upward, casting long fangs of shadow across the scorched courtyard. Wind howled through the broken statues and jagged monoliths of the old Sith temple.

Tyler rose. He palmed the hatch release, and the cockpit slid open with a pneumatic snarl. The desert air struck him like a slap. Dry, acrid, laced with the stench of old death and scorched stone.

He stepped out onto Moraband’s surface, boots crunching on sunbaked rock. His robes, black and crimson, trimmed with dark phrik thread, snapped around his legs as the wind surged. He paused at the edge of the platform, surveying the desolate valley below. Monoliths loomed, half-collapsed tombs clawing at the sky. A graveyard for monsters, and a throne for one.

Tyler smiled.

“Let me seduce him,” he whispered, barely audible over the wind. “Let me ruin him properly.”

Then, quieter still, like a prayer:

“Let me make him mine.”

And with that, he descended the steps of the ancient temple, shadows clinging to his heels like loyal ghosts.

The air was thick and dry. The kind that clawed at your throat and turned every breath into a fight. But Tyler welcomed discomfort. It honed him. Sharpened the edge of every thought, every instinct.

At the foot of the temple steps, Bourbaki waited like a shadow carved from the stone itself. His dark robes stirred faintly in the heat, though no wind touched them. His face, as always, was hidden.

“You return alone,” the Sith Master intoned, voice a low, distorted growl that seemed to vibrate through the cracked stone beneath their feet. “Where is the Jedi?”

Tyler opened his mouth, but the Force coiled before he could speak, tight, suffocating, a storm with no release. The ground shivered. Bourbaki descended one step. Just one. The sound of his footfall landed like a war drum struck deep beneath the surface.

“You failed,” the Sith Lord said, the words dragged out like iron through ash. “You were given a target. Eliminate him. Or bring him to me.” Another step. “And yet...”

“I didn’t fail.” Tyler’s hands rose, not in defense, but in offering. His voice was urgent, not desperate. Controlled. Measured. “I found something better.”

The Force stilled. Tensed.

Bourbaki halted, a breath from crushing Tyler’s ribs with a mere flick of his hand.

“I saw him break,” Tyler continued, seizing the moment. “He fought like he wanted to end me. Rage in his eyes. Doubt twisting in him like a knife. I touched it. He’s already cracking. One more push, he falls.”

Silence.

The wind whispered through the broken pillars and half-buried tombs around them, like the dead of Korriban murmuring their approval…or judgment.

Tyler took a step forward, voice gaining heat.

“He’s pretending he’s in control. Still hiding behind the Jedi Code like it’s armor. But he wanted me dead. Wanted it so badly, it scared him.”

He paused, then let the grin return, sharp and knowing.

“And that fear? That hesitation? That’s the opening. I can use it.”

He circled slightly, never taking his eyes off Bourbaki’s hidden face.

“Let me finish this. Not with a saber, but with doubt. Let me unravel him. Make him question everything. His code. His choices. His self. ”

Tyler’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“Let me seduce him.”

Stillness.

“And if he resists?” Bourbaki’s voice was softer now, but somehow worse for it. Like a scalpel instead of a sword. “If he clings to the light?”

Tyler’s smile turned predatory.

“Then I’ll do what you asked. I’ll end him. But not before I’ve tried everything else.”

Another long pause.

Then Bourbaki stepped down the final stair, the Force surging behind him in a slow, tidal pull. Tyler felt it like a weight against his chest.

“The ancient ones chose you,” the Sith Lord said. “They saw your hunger. Your cunning. The darkness in you runs deep enough to echo through their tombs.”

He leaned in, so close Tyler could feel the cold bite of shadow beneath the heat.

“Do not make them regret it.”

Tyler bowed low, the grin never leaving his face.

“They won’t.”

Bourbaki turned without another word, disappearing into the dark archways of the temple like smoke slipping between cracks in the stone.

Tyler stayed where he was, basking in the silence. The red sun cast his shadow long and sharp across the scorched courtyard, and in his eyes, something flickered. Promise, obsession, and the kind of fire that only destruction could feed.

—

The landing gear of Josh's starfighter struck the Jedi Temple’s platform with a harsh clank, metal groaning under the weight as he brought it down. The engines whined in protest before dying into silence.

The cockpit hissed open, but Josh didn’t wait. He staggered, gripping the edges of the seat, his breath shallow. Pain lanced through his side, warm blood soaking into his tunic. The gash was deep, but it wasn’t the wound that threatened to break him.

It was the silence. The stillness after the storm. And the cold grip of the dark side still clinging to his skin.

Tyler’s voice echoed in his mind, cruel and seductive. He’d touched something inside Josh, cracked open a door that should have stayed sealed. For the briefest moment, Josh had wanted it. Power, certainty, freedom. The dark side had felt real. Alive.

With a grunt, he pushed himself out of the cockpit. His boots hit the platform, and buckled. He collapsed, the stone unforgiving beneath him, his body screaming in protest. Each breath fanned the fire in his ribs, but worse still was the storm churning in his mind.

He reached for the Force, but it recoiled from him, or maybe he recoiled from it. It felt raw, exposed, like touching fire with an open wound. One wrong thought, one flicker of anger or fear, and the darkness would consume him.

He knelt on the platform, trembling fingers hovering over his injury. Blood dripped, but he couldn’t focus. Couldn’t heal. Not like this.

“No…” he whispered, the word torn from him like breath in winter. As if saying it could will everything away. As if denial could unwind time, undo what had nearly happened.

He had come so close.

The sharp, coppery scent of blood still clung to the air. The dull roar of the city far below felt distant now, muted beneath the pounding of his heart. And then...

Footsteps.

Two figures emerged through the haze, robes catching the wind like banners of purpose. Masters Nills and Sacarver. Their presence cleaved through the fog of adrenaline and dread, silent but unmistakable. They moved with controlled urgency, kneeling on either side of him.

“Joshua,” Master Nills said quietly, his voice like a stone dropped into water. His hand settled on Josh’s shoulder, warm and solid. “What happened?”

Josh tried to rise. His muscles shuddered with the effort. One foot found the ground, but his body gave way before the other could follow. He collapsed hard, catching himself with scraped palms against cold duracrete. Pain flared. His head swam.

Words gathered behind his teeth, heavy with guilt and too dangerous to speak.

Master Sacarver moved closer, her sharp gaze sweeping over him with clinical precision.

“You need to get to the med bay. Immediately.”

“I’m fine,” Josh snapped, too quickly. Too defensively. He tried again to move but his limbs betrayed him. He crumpled again, breathing ragged.

“Padawan.” Nills’s voice cut through the spiraling panic, firmer now. He extended a hand. “You are not fine. Let us help you.”

Josh didn’t take the hand. His eyes stayed on the ground, chest heaving. Shame twisted through his gut like wire. If they knew, if they saw what Tyler had shown him, what he’d felt ...

“He… could’ve killed me,” he murmured, so quietly it was almost swallowed by the wind. “But he didn’t.”

Sacarver’s eyes sharpened.

“Tyler?” she asked, the name laced with cautious recognition. Her tone was measured, but edged with concern. “You were sent to observe, not engage.”

Josh’s throat tightened. The memory flickered behind his eyes. The way Tyler had looked at him, not like an enemy, but like a mirror. A dare. A promise.

“He got in my head,” Josh said, voice cracking on the edges. “He made me question everything. Almost made me fall.”

Silence followed. 

Master Nills’s hand drifted from Josh’s shoulder. His expression shifted, no longer just concerned. Troubled. Watchful. Like he’d just glimpsed something dangerous beneath the surface.

“You should have reported back the moment you made contact,” Sacarver said, not unkindly, but with the sharpness of command. “You weren’t meant to face this alone.”

Josh nodded, barely. The motion felt hollow.

His failure wasn’t about strategy or orders. It was deeper than that. He had let the dark speak to him and worse, for a moment, he had listened.

“I... I couldn’t,” Josh’s voice cracked, the words barely leaving his lips. “I didn’t know what to do. He… he made me doubt everything. He made me want the dark side. I almost gave in, Master.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of his confession. Master Nills’s hand rested gently on Josh’s shoulder, his presence solid and calm.

“The darkness tempts us all, Joshua,” he said, his voice low and steady, “but what matters is that you recognized it. That you fought it. That shows strength, not weakness.”

Josh’s chest tightened, the lump in his throat growing thicker, a churning mix of guilt and shame threatening to choke him. He shook his head, fighting to keep his emotions in check.

“But I wanted it, Master. I wanted to give in. I was so close.”

Master Sacarver lowered herself to Josh’s level, her expression softening but her gaze still intense.

“It’s natural to feel temptation,” she said, her voice gentle yet unwavering. “But what defines us is not the temptation itself. It’s how we respond to it. You resisted, Josh. That is what matters most. We are not defined by what tempts us, but by how we act when faced with it.”

Josh’s gaze remained fixed on the cold stone beneath him. His heart ached, a heavy weight pressing down on him. He had come so close to losing everything, so close to falling. But now… now, with their quiet support, he felt a flicker of hope.

Master Nills didn’t press for more, didn’t ask for any more details. He simply extended a hand to Josh, helping him to his feet. His legs wobbled beneath him, threatening to give way again, but the steady pressure of the Masters’ hands kept him upright. They didn’t push him to speak further; they offered their strength without demanding anything more than his trust.

As they moved toward the medical bay, Master Nills spoke again, his voice steady and reassuring.

“You will heal, Josh. Physically, and mentally. You don’t have to carry this burden alone. We’re here for you.”

Josh’s head remained lowered, his steps slow and unsure. The guilt still gnawed at him, the memory of the darkness pressing against the edges of his mind. He had been so close to giving in. But it wasn’t too late. There was still time.

—

Josh stood in the center of the Jedi Council room, his gaze fixed on the polished stone floor, feeling the weight of the Masters' stares pressing down on him. His hands, clenched tightly beneath his robe, were pale from the strain. 

The Council was waiting. They already knew the situation, the mission on Yavin IV, the confrontation with Tyler. But they were waiting for him to speak, to make sense of it all. And Josh knew that no explanation could make the events any clearer. What had almost happened. The dark path he had almost walked was beyond words.

Master Sacarver was the first to break the silence. Her voice was calm but held an edge, the kind that came from knowing a great deal more than she let on.

"Joshua," she began, her gaze softening just enough to show a flicker of compassion, "you've endured a great ordeal. We're aware of the mission and the danger Tyler posed. We understand the weight of what you faced."

Josh kept his head lowered, unable to look up. The words only deepened the guilt gnawing at his core. He had failed. He had failed the Jedi and, more painfully, himself. Tyler had pushed him to the brink.

Master Nills, the steady voice of reason, added, "Tyler is a manipulator, Josh. That’s why we tasked you with the reconnaissance. We knew the risks, and we trusted you to resist him, trusted you to not give in to the thirst for revenge."

The words hit harder than he expected. Each one reverberated in his mind, replaying those moments with Tyler. His voice, the pressure, the darkness that had nearly consumed him. Josh winced. His pulse quickened as Master Reisdro’s harsh voice broke through his thoughts.

"Tyler’s power is undeniable," Reisdro said, his gaze sharp and penetrating, "but what concerns us is how close you came to slipping. How you were willing to embrace the dark side."

The weight of his words cut deep. Josh swallowed, trying to steady himself, but the room seemed to close in around him.

Master Lisden’s voice was softer, but firm.

“We all face temptation, Joshua. It’s natural. But you were too close. Tyler didn’t just test your strength; he tested your resolve, your heart. He tried to break you.”

Josh’s voice, when it came, was barely a whisper.

“I almost gave in, Master. I thought I could handle it... but I was wrong.”

The silence that followed hung heavy in the air, thick with the weight of his confession. Then, Master Andre spoke, her tone more reflective.

“You were tested. We all are. What matters now is what you’ve learned from it. Trials don’t define us, Joshua. It’s how we rise from them that does.”

Josh blinked at her words, his chest tightening. She was right. The test hadn’t ended with the battle. It had only just begun.

The question came then, cutting through the tension like a blade:

"What now? What do we do with Tyler?" Master Vetomo’s voice echoed through the room.

The Council’s gaze shifted to Josh, and he felt the weight of their scrutiny more than ever. The question wasn’t just about Tyler anymore; it was about what came next, what Josh would do now.

Master Sacarver exchanged a brief glance with Master Nills before speaking, her tone measured but firm.

“We can’t underestimate Tyler’s influence. You’ve returned from the brink, Joshua, but we stand with you. We will not leave you to face this alone.”

Josh nodded, but the weight of his confession still gnawed at him. Despite their support, a flicker of something unexpected stirred inside him. Something more than guilt. A renewed sense of purpose.

“I have an idea,” Josh said, his voice steadier now, though tinged with uncertainty. The room went silent as all eyes turned to him. “Instead of fighting Tyler, instead of killing him or capturing him... what if we tried something else? What if we could change him? Bring him back from the darkness?”

Master Nills raised an eyebrow, his surprise momentary, though he said nothing. The other Masters exchanged wary glances. Some skeptical, others intrigued.

“Tyler is dangerous,” Master Listo said, his voice filled with concern. “You’ve seen what he’s capable of. Do you truly believe someone so entrenched in the dark side can be turned back?”

Josh hesitated, his hands curling into fists.

“I saw it, Master. Just for a moment... his eyes. They weren’t red. They were brown. For just a second, I think he was conflicted. I think he was close to giving in to the light.”

Master Sacarver stepped forward, her expression more thoughtful now.

“It’s possible. But the real question is, can he accept such a change? He’s been steeped in the darkness for so long, Josh. How could you reach someone like him?”

Josh’s voice grew more resolute, a spark of conviction igniting within him.

“I know it’s risky. But if we just kill him, we lose any chance of turning him back. We lose a potential ally who could help us fight the true darkness. The one the Sith have fed him for years. What if we show him something more? A way out of the hate and the power?”

Finally, Master Vetomo’s deep voice broke the silence.

“It’s dangerous, Josh. Attempting to turn someone like him…” His words trailed off, and for a moment, the room felt heavier. “But perhaps there’s truth in what you’ve seen. If there’s any chance of redemption… perhaps it’s worth considering.”

Master Nills nodded slowly, his expression unreadable, though his tone was cautious.

“We cannot dismiss your experience, Joshua. But you must understand. This will be a delicate path. If we choose to proceed, it must be with the utmost care. One misstep, and it could cost more than we’re prepared to lose.”

Josh locked eyes with Master Nills, his resolve solidifying.

“I know the risks. But if there’s even a chance to save him, to show him what he could become, then it’s worth the risk.”

Master Sacarver sighed softly, her gaze steady but thoughtful. There was a faint trace of a smile, a glimmer of approval.

“Then we’ll move forward with your plan. But remember, Joshua, this is no longer just your mission. You’ll have the full support of the Council and we will be watching closely. Every step you take.”

The room went silent again, the weight of the decision hanging heavily in the air. Every Master knew the cost of failure, the danger of miscalculating the dark side’s grip on someone as lost as Tyler.

After what felt like an eternity, Master Andre spoke in a voice low but resolute.

“We proceed cautiously. Someone must monitor the situation, track Tyler’s every move, his actions. Be prepared for failure. Redemption is a rare and fragile thing.”

Josh nodded, his heart still heavy but now filled with a renewed sense of purpose.

“Thank you, Masters. I won’t fail.”

The deliberations continued around him, the quiet hum of the Council’s decision-making fading into the background as Josh’s thoughts raced. The path ahead was fraught with danger. Tyler’s rejection of the light was a very real threat, as was the constant danger of the Sith. But for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Josh allowed himself to believe there might be a way forward. Maybe Tyler could be saved. Maybe, just maybe, he could help him find his way back before it was too late.

—

Tyler stood alone in his chambers, the dim red lighting casting jagged shadows that danced across the stone walls and his sweat-slicked skin. His breath was steady now, but only just. He’d pushed himself hard in training, driven by an energy he couldn’t quite name. Every muscle in his body ached with the aftermath of exertion. But it was a pain he welcomed. A pain that meant progress. Control. Power.

And then there was the burn. It pulsed at the side of his neck. A constant reminder of Josh.

Tyler’s fingers brushed against it, feeling the raised edge of the skin. He winced at the contact, but didn’t pull away. Instead, his touch lingered. The pain was sharp, immediate, but layered beneath it was something else. Something more primal.

The memory of their last encounter flooded back, the fury in Josh’s eyes, the way the heat of his lightsaber had kissed flesh, left its claim. Most would call it a scar. A weakness. A defeat.

Tyler didn’t.

It was a mark. A signature. Not of conquest, but of connection.

And god help him, it aroused him.

Not in a way he fully understood, not yet, but the burn sparked something visceral inside him. It wasn’t just pain. It was Josh. A part of Josh now lived in his skin, pressed into him in fire. The sensation lingered like an echo, seeping into every nerve, as if Josh had reached out, not just to strike, but to brand him. To claim him.

And Tyler reveled in it.

He stretched out on the bed, the cool sheets soothing his overheated body. The throbbing in his neck matched the beat of his pulse. A steady, intimate rhythm that brought with it not just memory, but sensation. The Force hummed around him, restless, charged, and Tyler closed his eyes, letting the sensation drag him under.

Then the world shifted.

The red shadows of his chamber melted into mist, and Tyler found himself standing, not in the physical world, but in that strange liminal space between waking and sleep. A dream, yes, but more than a dream. The Force wove it into being, blurring the line between mind and spirit.

And across from him stood Josh.

He looked different here. Bare-chested, wearing only soft beige pants. The fresh scar on his side, a gift from Tyler, stood out stark against pale, freckled skin. His hair was short, save for the padawan braid tucked behind one ear. There was tension in his frame, though his expression remained still.

Tyler’s gaze lingered, dragging slowly down the length of him, taking in every detail.

He, too, was shirtless. His toned frame bathed in the flickering light of the dreamspace, black pants slung low on his hips. His stance was easy, confident, predatory. He took a step forward, the space between them narrowing, his eyes gleaming with something dark and unspoken.

“Well, well, Joshua,” he said, voice smooth and low, threaded with amusement. “You look… different here.”

The silence stretched.

Tyler smirked.

“Not hiding how you’re feeling very well, are you? You’ve been staring.” Another step forward. “Is there something you want to say?”

Josh’s eyes snapped up, too late. He’d been caught.

His face flushed, not from embarrassment exactly, but from the frustration of being read so easily. He crossed his arms over his chest, a feeble barrier against the unrelenting presence in front of him.

“I wasn’t staring,” he said, voice tight.

Tyler’s smirk widened, slow and knowing, like a predator toying with prey already tangled in the net.

“Oh, sure you weren’t,” he drawled, his voice silk over steel, edged with flirtation. “But I saw it. You can't take your eyes off me. It’s alright. You’re only human. Must be hard to resist.” His gaze dipped, a deliberate sweep across Josh’s chest, lingering with a kind of bold curiosity. “I mean, I am pretty…hard to ignore.”

Josh’s jaw clenched. He said nothing, refusing to dignify the smug remark with a reaction. But Tyler was already standing too close, his presence like a gravitational force, pulling at something deep inside Josh he didn’t want to name.

Tyler leaned in, lowering his voice to a murmur that buzzed against the edge of Josh’s senses.

“That scar on your side,” he said, his eyes flicking to it with a hungry kind of nostalgia, “it’s still fresh. Still healing. But there’s something about it…something intimate.” He paused. “The way it sits right there, etched into you, it’s like a signature. A reminder. Of me.”

Josh’s body tensed. He instinctively brushed the edge of the wound, fingers grazing the still-sensitive skin. The mark throbbed faintly, an echo of pain and memory.

“That’s not what it means,” he said, quieter than he’d intended.

Tyler tilted his head, gaze intense and unreadable.

“Isn’t it?” His tone softened into something more dangerous. “You carry it like a badge. Same with the one on your back. You try to pretend they’re just battle scars. But they’re not.” His eyes flicked toward Josh’s neck, then back down again. “They’re mine. Like fingerprints. Like... a claim.”

Josh’s heart stumbled in his chest.

Tyler stepped closer again, slow, deliberate. He let his gaze trail down Josh’s torso, drinking in every line and shadow.

“It’s kind of hot, actually. Seeing those marks. Knowing I left them. Knowing I was there.” He gave a breath of a laugh. “You’re not the same Jedi you were. I can feel it. The way the Force hums around you. It’s different now. Like you’ve already started to slip.”

Josh turned away sharply, his shoulders stiff, as though he could shake off Tyler’s words. But his silence spoke volumes.

Tyler wasn’t done.

“Oh, come on, Jedi,” he whispered, stepping up behind him. His hand hovered over Josh’s shoulder, close enough to feel the tension radiating off his body. He didn’t touch, couldn’t in this dream-space, but the illusion of closeness was worse. The phantom graze of fingers that never landed made Josh’s skin itch with anticipation.

“You’re fighting it so hard,” Tyler breathed, lips barely a thought away from Josh’s ear. “But it’s exhausting, isn’t it? This constant resistance? You know what you want. You’ve felt it between us. Every time we fight, every time you hesitate. You can’t keep pretending it isn’t there.”

Josh’s breath caught, and for a split second, his control faltered.

“I don’t want anything from you,” he said, but the words lacked weight. They trembled under the strain of his own conflicted emotions, of everything left unsaid.

Tyler circled him slowly, savoring every moment like a performance. His eyes roamed, hungry, amused, deliberate. He didn’t need to touch Josh to get under his skin. The way he looked at him, with that slow-burning fire and too-sharp understanding, was more than enough.

“Sure,” Tyler said softly, lips curling. “Keep telling yourself that.” His fingers hovered again, drifting above Josh’s arm, a taunting imitation of intimacy. The absence of contact was maddening, like a whisper just out of reach. “But I see it. I feel it. That tension. That curiosity. You’re not just afraid of me. You’re afraid of yourself. Of what this means. Of how much you don’t hate it.”

He let the words linger between them, thick and heavy, like a trap slowly closing.

“Look at me, Josh. Really look. I’m everything the Jedi can’t offer. Everything you want, but were taught to fear. You don’t have to fight it anymore. Just… let go.”

Josh’s chest constricted. His gaze dropped before he could stop it, his eyes betraying him as they dragged across Tyler’s torso. Defined, fluid muscle moved beneath his skin like power waiting to strike. Tyler was captivating, and Josh hated the flare of heat that sparked in his gut. Hated himself for feeling it.

Tyler caught the glance, and his grin stretched wider, hungry and triumphant.

“Ah, so you are looking.” His voice was silk and smoke. “Don’t be shy. I won’t bite…unless you ask nicely.”

Josh’s jaw clenched, cheeks burning with frustration and something he refused to name. The air between them crackled. He tore his gaze away and stepped back, breaking the pull of Tyler’s gravity with visible effort.

“I’m not doing this with you,” he muttered. Then louder, sharper: “Did you ever want to be a Jedi?”

The question halted Tyler. For a moment, the smirk faltered. Then he laughed. A low, velvety sound that echoed through the Force like a ripple on dark water.

“Really? That’s your move? Trying to get inside my head now, Jedi?”

Josh held his ground, though his breath came tight. “Just curious.”

Tyler’s eyes narrowed, his smile sharpening like a blade. The red glow in his irises deepened, something ancient and unhinged flickering beneath the surface.

“Curious, huh?” he echoed, his voice syrupy and laced with menace. He stepped forward.

“You should be careful with that, Jedi. Curiosity has a way of getting people hurt around me.”

Josh’s pulse spiked. He couldn’t look away. Tyler’s eyes bored into him with the intensity of a black hole, threatening to strip him bare with a glance.

Then Tyler tilted his head, his voice lowering into something almost intimate.

“You just can’t help it, can you? Always poking at things you’re not supposed to touch. Always reaching for the dark like it won’t burn you.”

Josh swallowed hard, resisting the urge to retreat. Tyler’s presence was overwhelming, his flirtation morphing into something feral and cruel. The mask had slipped, and what lay beneath wasn’t just dangerous. It was deranged.

“What’s your game, Tyler?” Josh asked, the words tumbling out harder than he meant, raw and unsteady.

Tyler’s laugh came again, darker now, twisted at the edges.

“Game?” he purred, voice low as thunder on the horizon. “I am the game, Jedi. You’ve just been playing along…whether you knew it or not.”

Another step. Another inch stolen.

Josh moved back instinctively and froze. Tyler was too close now, the space between them charged like a live wire. The red in Tyler’s eyes pulsed, alive with madness, hypnotic in its intensity. It wasn’t just attraction anymore, it was a snare tightening with every breath.

“You don’t even realize it, do you?” Tyler whispered, and Josh felt his words like a ghost brushing the back of his neck. “You think you’re in control. That you’ve got it all locked down behind your Jedi walls. But I see you, Josh. I see what’s cracking. ”

The temperature around them dropped, the air thick and cold like something terrible drawing near. Tyler’s gaze flicked over Josh’s face, searching, savoring.

“Tell me…” Tyler’s voice curled like a tendril of smoke, wrapping around Josh’s spine. “What do you think I’ll do next?”

The question wasn’t a tease. It was a threat wrapped in velvet.

Josh’s breath hitched, every nerve on high alert. His instincts screamed at him to fight, to run, but Tyler’s words had already wormed their way into his thoughts, dragging him toward the edge.

“What do you want from me, Tyler?” Josh's voice cracked like a fault line splitting open, the question rasping out of him.

Tyler tilted his head, amusement flickering in the dangerous gleam of his eyes. His lips curved into a smirk, slow and razor-sharp. That same madness burned just beneath the surface, barely restrained.

“What do I want?” he echoed, the words laced with mock wonder. “Still clinging to the idea that I want something from you?” He chuckled, low and unnerving, each syllable striking a nerve. “No, no, Jedi. I don’t want anything from you.”

He stepped forward, deliberately slow, until he was close enough that Josh swore he could feel the heat radiating from him. Tyler’s hand hovered inches from Josh’s chest, the air between them charged with something electric and oppressive, like standing too close to lightning just before it strikes.

“I want this, ” Tyler said, his voice dropping, intimate and venomous. “This moment. This unraveling. I want to watch you bend. To watch that Jedi discipline fracture under its own weight.” His fingers never touched, but Josh could feel them, as if Tyler’s presence alone was carving through his composure.

“You think you’re resisting,” Tyler murmured, eyes gleaming, “but you’re already playing the game. You’ve been playing since the moment you looked at me and didn’t look away.”

Josh’s breath hitched. He clenched his fists at his sides, trying to anchor himself.

2“You really think you can break me?” The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Tyler’s laugh was cold and quiet, like water dripping in a cave. It echoed. It lingered.

“Break you?” he repeated, tilting his head as if the thought was quaint. “I could break you without lifting a finger. But where’s the fun in that?”

He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting along the side of Josh’s face, and whispered:

“I want to watch you break yourself.”

Josh flinched, barely, but Tyler caught it. He always did.

Then, for just a heartbeat, Tyler’s expression shifted. The smirk faded. Not into kindness, nothing so gentle, but into something darker, more unnerving: an almost tender malice. It was the kind of look predators gave their prey before the final bite.

“Don’t worry,” Tyler said softly. “I’ll be here. To catch you. Or not. Depends on how I’m feeling that day.” He pulled back then, the loss of proximity like a sudden plunge into cold air.

He paced a slow half-circle around Josh, surveying him. Not like a rival, but like a craftsman admiring the imperfections in his creation. Josh stayed still, but inside he was spiraling, heart pounding against the inside of his ribs like it was trying to escape.

Tyler stopped, a few steps away now, cloaked in shadow. “Maybe one day you’ll understand what this is,” he said, almost conversationally. “But let’s not pretend you’re ready for that truth. You’re not ready for me. ”

He turned, just enough for Josh to glimpse the smirk still playing at the edge of his mouth.

“But don’t worry,” he added, his voice soft and laced with something far more dangerous than reassurance. “We’ll see each other again soon. Seems like fate has a thing for throwing us back together.”

Then, with an elegant, effortless sweep of motion, he vanished into the dark. No goodbye, no warning, just the echo of his voice and a low, twisted laugh that clung to the silence like smoke.

Josh stood frozen, muscles taut, breath caught somewhere between fury and fear. The space Tyler left behind seemed colder somehow, like a shadow still pressing in on his chest. His words echoed louder than they should’ve, looping in Josh’s head like a spell.

He hated how easily Tyler slipped into his mind and how impossible it felt to shut him out.

Chapter Text

Tyler’s breaths came in ragged pulls, his arms trembling with exertion. Every muscle in his body burned, but he refused to stop. Sweat slicked his skin, blurring his vision, but he didn’t blink it away. Pain was a teacher. Pain was fuel.

The training chamber on Moraband, deep beneath the surface, built into the hollowed husk of a collapsed Sith tomb, throbbed with latent energy. The blood-red glow of embedded kyber shards pulsed along the walls, resonating with a steady hum that seeped into Tyler’s bones. The Force here was thick, oppressive. It clawed at the mind, distorted time and space. It fed the darkness. And Tyler drank deep.

He launched back into the Djem So sequence: Form V, the relentless power form favored by Jedi who danced too close to the edge. But Tyler didn’t stop at mimicry. He fused it with Juyo, the feral, unpredictable seventh form. The domain of those who thrived on rage. His dual red sabers blurred in a whirlwind of violent arcs and counterstrikes, crashing against the droid’s cortosis-plated arms in bursts of angry light.

He pivoted sharply, twisting at the hips and slamming his saber hilts together in a single-handed strike that shattered the droid’s guard, then followed with a reverse thrust that cored its chest.

The machine fell. Smoking. Useless.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

On the raised platform above, Bourbaki watched without a word. The Sith overseer stood like a carved obsidian statue, hands clasped behind his back, eyes sharp and pale as a moonswept desert. His robes, cut in traditional Sith fashion, fluttered in the artificial wind cycling through the chamber’s vents.

“You hesitate between strikes,” Bourbaki finally said, his voice like a vibroblade rasping across stone. “Your anger is shallow. Tamed. You fight like a Jedi trying to impersonate a Sith.”

The words struck harder than the droid’s blade had. Tyler’s jaw clenched. He turned toward him, seething.

“I don’t feel-”

“You don’t feel,” Bourbaki snapped. “You calculate. The Force is not math. A Sith does not analyze. A Sith knows. ”

He descended from the platform in slow, deliberate steps. The chamber seemed to darken with every stride.

“Through passion, you gain strength. Through rage, power. Let it break your bones if it must.”

He flicked a hand. Another droid emerged. Larger this time, forged in the shape of a Mandalorian war droid, its arms fitted with a vibro-axe and a stun-blade. Sparks leapt from its joints as its systems powered on. The photoreceptors ignited, locking onto Tyler with predatory focus.

Bourbaki's voice was low, final.

“No forms. No kata. Survive.”

The droid lunged. Tyler didn’t retreat. He met the attack head-on, instincts overriding discipline. The vibro-axe crashed down. He blocked high, but the force of the blow rattled through his arms. The stun-blade came from below, jabbing into his ribs with a pulse of agony that lit up his nervous system. He dropped to a knee with a grunt, sabers momentarily flickering.

Pain bloomed. Shame followed. Then the fury ignited.

With a roar, Tyler surged upward, his blades spinning in wide, unrestrained arcs. He struck high, low, then twisted his body into a vicious rising slash that split the droid from sternum to throat in a burst of orange sparks. It fell backward, limbs twitching.

Bourbaki said nothing. He turned and walked away into the shadows. But the lesson wasn’t over.

With a shriek of grinding metal, the chamber's ceiling irised open. Fifteen droids dropped from above. Each one different. Twin-bladed units. Shielded juggernauts. Ranged snipers with precision servos. All designed to kill.

Their eyes lit up red.

Tyler stood in the center of the chamber, body aching, mind ablaze. He didn’t hesitate.

Both sabers hissed to life, casting crimson light across his sweat-slicked face. He launched himself forward, reckless and lethal.

The first droid charged. He slid beneath its blades, driving one saber up through its core. The second met his spinning backhand, cleaved clean through the waist. Sparks rained from the ceiling. Smoke thickened. The air stank of ozone and scorched alloy.

He lost count of his kills. His movements weren’t elegant, they were feral, driven by sheer force of will. He was beyond pain, beyond thought. The darkness wrapped around him like armor, guiding his strikes with unrelenting brutality.

Rage took the place of thought. Fury guided his blades.

Tyler spun, ducked, then launched himself into the air, both sabers raised high. He came down like a meteor, his blades crossing in a red X that shattered a shield unit’s defenses. The droid crumpled beneath the force of the blow, limbs twitching in its death spasms.

Blaster bolts screamed toward him from the flanks.

He didn’t stop to think. His sabers moved on instinct, one deflecting the first bolt back into the chest of its origin droid, the other spinning into a wide arc that absorbed the rest. His momentum carried him forward, his steps almost weightless now, driven by the Force surging through him like a tempest.

The next droid, a sniper unit, tried to retreat, but Tyler was already there. His first saber blurred across its chest, severing both arms. The second drove straight into its power core, extinguishing the glow in its photoreceptors.

The remaining machines began to fall back, recalibrating their attack patterns. But it was too late.

Tyler was inside their formation.

He became motion. A storm of red light and raw intent. One saber slashed upward, opening a droid from hip to shoulder; the other spun backward into the midsection of a second, twisting violently as it carved through. He slammed the hilt of one blade into a droid’s faceplate, shattering its sensors in a burst of blue sparks, then impaled it before it could fall.

Another droid lunged, he turned and lifted his palm. The Force exploded outward from him, a concussive wave of pure will. The machine shattered mid-air, its pieces raining around him in molten arcs.

He leapt again, flipping over the final trio of droids in a graceful, inverted spin. Time slowed. His breath was silent. His mind was void.

He landed in a low crouch, the durasteel floor cracking beneath his feet.

Then, without a word, he extended his hands.

The Force wrapped around the three droids like a vice.

Crack, crush, screech.

Metal folded like paper. Limbs bent inward. Power cores ruptured. All three collapsed in a heap of twisted steel and shrieking servos, their dying sparks flickering in the red gloom.

Then, silence.

Only the twin hums of Tyler’s sabers remained, casting flickering shadows across the chamber. The air was thick with smoke and the stench of scorched alloy. His chest heaved, muscles trembling, skin slick with sweat. But his hands didn’t shake. His stance didn’t falter.

His eyes, no longer the soft hazel of a boy from the outer rim, glowed faintly red-gold in the darkness. The fire of the dark side now lived behind them, slow and smoldering.

From the edge of the chamber, Bourbaki stepped forward. Each step echoed over the wreckage, methodical and patient. His face betrayed nothing, until the faintest curl touched the corner of his mouth. Something ancient flickered in his gaze.

“Good… good,” he rasped, voice thick with dark pride. “You’ve let go of everything. The doubt. The fear. The restraint.”

He circled Tyler slowly, boots crunching over metal and bone.

“You’ve stepped beyond the threshold, broken the last chains of weakness. You no longer perform rage.” He stopped. “You are rage.”

Tyler turned his head toward him. His sabers were still lit, still humming. Casting their glow along the curve of his jaw, illuminating the new hollowness behind his eyes. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.

Bourbaki took one long breath and nodded, solemn and final.

“Your next mission, apprentice,” Bourbaki intoned, his voice carrying through the cavernous chamber like a verdict handed down by the Force itself. The shadows stirred around them, the flickering red glow of distant torches casting molten silhouettes on the stone walls. “Dagobah.”

Tyler remained kneeling before him, head bowed, sabers clipped to his belt, his breath slow and controlled. His expression didn’t flicker, but inside, something coiled with anticipation.

“You will camp there,” Bourbaki continued, pacing behind him, his boots echoing softly on the damp stone floor. “However long it takes. You will enter the Padawan’s mind, peel back the layers of his faith. Strip him of his illusions. You will make him see the rot beneath the Order’s robes.”

Tyler’s mouth curved ever so slightly.

“You will not fail, Tyler.” The Sith Lord stopped, his tone dropping to a rasp just behind the young man’s shoulder. “Turn him to the dark… or destroy him. There is no middle path.”

A low hum vibrated through the chamber. Ancient machines breathing in time with the dark energy that saturated the place. Somewhere far above, a kyber crystal chimed softly within its blood-forged housing. 

“You will report to me at nightfall, every cycle.”

Tyler nodded once, deeply.

“Yes, Master.”

He didn’t look up as a slow smile tugged at his lips, hidden beneath his cowl. This wasn’t just a mission. It was a game. Weeks, maybe longer, alone with the Jedi Padawan Joshua. Two enemies in the same wild, haunted jungle. The thought filled him with a curious thrill.

Dagobah.

A nexus of raw, unfiltered Force energy. The place where time bent, and reality frayed at the edges. The perfect place to blur the lines between light and dark. A place that would whisper to Joshua’s doubts… if properly nudged.

Tyler rose at last, folding his arms across his chest.

“I will do what I must,” he said solemnly, the mockery of Jedi restraint laced beneath his words.

Bourbaki said nothing more. He merely turned and vanished into the corridor’s darkness, his black robes trailing like smoke behind him.

Tyler pivoted on his heel and strode toward his quarters. He would pack light. Rations, shelter, a holocron or two, a few relics that might… influence the Padawan’s dreams. Not all corruption required a blade.

The jungle would do the rest.

And Josh would never see him coming.

—

Josh’s palms struck the training remote’s blasts aside with precision. One, two, three bolts deflected in smooth succession. He moved through the katas with practiced grace, his blue saber cutting clean, fluid arcs through the air as he danced across the training platform in the high chamber of the Jedi Temple. 

Each movement was deliberate, honed through years of discipline, but there was something heavier beneath the surface. His muscles tense, jaw clenched slightly tighter than it should have been.

His tunic clung to his back, soaked with sweat, but his breathing stayed even. He pushed onward.

The remotes repositioned with a whirr, spinning faster. Four now, darting with erratic precision. Josh pivoted into a low crouch, swept his saber up in a rising block, then twisted sharply to catch a bolt on his blade’s edge. 

One shot grazed his shoulder, leaving a faint scorch across the fabric. He winced but didn’t break form. The next two blasts came quick, he parried them, one into the floor, the other deflected wide into the wall.

He stepped forward, a flare of power in his outstretched hand shutting the remotes down with a static burst. They dropped from the air like dead metal birds.

Silence fell, broken only by his controlled breathing.

The chamber was lit in gold, the late sun bleeding through tall arched windows that reached to the high ceiling. Dust motes floated through the air, catching the light like stars. Josh stood still, gaze fixed on the floor, his saber humming softly before he shut it down and clipped it to his belt with a sharp click.

He crossed to the meditation mat at the center of the chamber and knelt. His knees pressed into The familiar woven fabric grounded him. The silence here was different. Deeper. Almost sacred.

Breathe. In. Out.

Josh closed his eyes.

The Force flowed around him like the tide returning to a long-forgotten shore. He let himself drift in it, searching for that still place within.

But something stirred at the edge of his awareness. A tremor. A fracture.

A shadow. Something broken. Twisted. 

Tyler.

The name echoed in his mind like a lightsaber scar reopened. Josh’s brow tightened. He tried to push it away, to focus. But his thoughts fought him, grief and guilt coiling like smoke beneath the surface of his calm. He hadn’t let himself feel any of it since...

A sudden coldness swept over him. Not physical. Spiritual. Like the temperature had dropped only in his soul.

His eyes snapped open.

The air shimmered. The golden temple light around him bent and warped, rippling like water drawn to a single point. The Force surged in the chamber, vibrating with something old. 

And then, he saw him.

Master Keons.

He emerged from the glow like fire remembered. Translucent but radiant, robes drifting as if stirred by winds from another plane. His face was as Josh remembered: calm, lined with quiet wisdom, unchanged by death.

Josh’s breath caught. He couldn’t move.

“Master…?” he managed, voice cracking on the word.

Keons offered a small, solemn smile.

“Good to see you, my Padawan.”

Josh blinked rapidly. Tears blurred the edges of his vision.

“I thought-” He stopped, voice failing him. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” He looked down. Shame curled in his chest like a knot of ice. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

Keons stepped forward. Though his form was incorporeal, Josh felt his presence like sunlight breaking through stormclouds.

“You were never meant to,” the Master said gently. His voice moved through the Force like the echo of truth in a canyon. “The will of the Force is not always ours to understand. Loss is part of the current.”

Josh looked up, pain raw in his eyes.

“But it hurts,” he whispered. “Everything’s changed. And Tyler…” He hesitated. “I can feel him. His anger, it’s like a fire raging across the stars.”

Keons’s expression darkened slightly, compassion etched in every line.

“He walks a shadowed path. One carved by pain.”

Josh’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“He’s lost.”

“No,” Keons said softly. “He’s wandering. There is a difference.”

Josh shook his head.

“But how do I reach him? How do I save someone who doesn’t want to be saved?”

Keons stepped closer and knelt before him. Their eyes met, Padawan and Master once more, if only for a moment suspended in the Force.

“You are not here to fight him,” Keons said. “You are here to reach him. That has always been your strength, your heart. Your empathy. That is why I trained you. That is why the Force has not turned away from you.”

Josh’s throat tightened. The tears spilled freely now.

“I miss your guidance, Master,” he whispered.

Keons reached out, not touching, but the distance between them shimmered with a bond that had never broken. The Force pulsed between them like a heartbeat, steady and bright.

“I am always with you,” the Master said. “In the quiet. In the current. In the light.”

Josh closed his eyes, his breath shallow. Tears slipped silently down his cheeks, warm against the cool stillness of the training room. The scent of scorched metal and ancient stone lingered faintly in the air. Remnants of lightsaber drills and centuries of whispered tradition.

“You must go to Dagobah, Padawan,” came Keons’s gentle voice, warm and familiar.

Josh opened his eyes, vision blurred. The room, hollow and dim beneath the high-vaulted ceiling of the Jedi Temple’s oldest training chamber, felt unusually quiet. No other students sparred this evening. Just the echoes of the past and the flickering form of his former Master.

Keons stood before him, his robes shifting like mist, translucent under the pale blue glow of his Force spirit. The wall sconces cast a low golden light over the polished durasteel floor, catching the subtle wear of generations' footsteps.

Josh furrowed his brow, his voice thick with disbelief.

“For what reason?”

Keons paced slowly before him, his form flickering slightly with each step, as if gravity barely remembered he was ever alive. There was something in his presence that still radiated gravity. A quiet wisdom, heavy with memory.

“To face him,” Keons replied simply.

Josh felt the words land like a weight in his chest. His throat tightened, heart pounding against his ribcage like a frightened animal. “Master, I do not think it is wise for me to be alone with Tyler,” he said, voice low.

“I fear he will get inside my head…or kill me. And, how do you know he will be there?”

Keons stopped mid-step and looked back over his shoulder, a faint smile rising to his spectral lips.

“Life within the Force comes with knowledge. I can assure you, he will be there. As for your worries Joshua, you have encountered him multiple times, and he has not struck you down. What makes you think he will now?”

Josh’s eyes dropped to the floor. The smooth stone reflecting the faint ghost-light of his Master.

“He is a Sith apprentice,” he said softly. “He’s trained to hunt Jedi. If he spared me, it was not mercy. It was...a game. A slow unraveling.”

Keons tilted his head, the glow around him dimming like a dying star swallowed by clouds.

“Go to Dagobah, son,” he said, stepping closer. “Stay there, and speak with him. Lead him from the shadows into the light.”

Josh lifted his gaze, searching the contours of his Master’s face, desperate for certainty.

“You believe he can still be turned?”

“I saw it,” Keons replied, his voice quieter now. “Before he struck me down, I reached into his mind. I saw a boy, alone on Raxus Prime. Covered in soot, eyes wide with grief. I felt the pain. The confusion. His innocence wasn’t erased… it was buried.”

Josh swallowed hard, hands curling into fists at his sides.

“Master, that boy is gone. Only a weapon remains.”

Keons stepped forward once more, his fingers nearly brushing Josh’s shoulder.

“Is he?” he whispered. “He watched you escape more than once. Each time, he had the chance to end you. But he didn’t. That is not the Sith way.”

Josh turned away, battling the swirl of emotions rising within him. Grief, anger, doubt.

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough,” he whispered. “Not to fight him. Not to save him.”

The chamber dimmed. A sudden hush fell over the room, as if the Temple itself was holding its breath. Keons’s form began to dissolve, fading into the surrounding shadows like morning mist under a rising sun.

His voice remained, strong, steady, and carried on the current of the Force:

“You are the only one who can save him, Joshua. Trust in the Force, and let it guide you on your path to redemption.”

Then he was gone.

Josh stood alone in the vast training hall, surrounded by silence. But the chill in his bones had lifted. In its place burned something fragile, but real:

Hope.

—

The storm had already begun by the time Josh arrived on Dagobah, though “storm” hardly captured the ceaseless fury of water and wind that lashed the swamp world. Thunder rolled like distant boulders tumbling through the clouds, and the sky overhead was a bruised black, pierced now and then by flashes of pale lightning that lit the twisted canopy in stark relief.

Rain sheeted down through the trees in relentless torrents, spattering off thick leaves and splashing into the stagnant water below. The branches above swayed and groaned, heavy with moisture and shivering under the weight of the wind. Moss flapped like wet flags. Every surface was slick, every breath soaked.

Josh stumbled through the underbrush, drenched to the bone. His cloak hung heavy and sodden around his shoulders, water dripping from his hood in steady rivulets. The ground squelched beneath his boots, giving way with each step, mud sucking at his soles like the swamp wanted to claim him.

The air reeked of wet rot and churned earth, of living things forced into hiding. Insects buzzed erratically around his face, disoriented by the storm. Somewhere behind the downpour, a gnarltree frog bellowed a low, tremulous croak that was nearly drowned out by the hissing splash of rain on water. A dragoneel shrieked from beneath the surface, its warble sharper now, like it, too, was stirred by the storm.

Josh had set up camp on one of the rare patches of elevated ground, though even that was little more than a muddy rise surrounded by murky pools. His tent struggled against the weather, its reinforced poles bowed under the pressure of wind and rain. The repulsor anchors held, but barely. Water streamed down the sides of the shelter, sluicing off the edges in noisy rivulets. The small power pack beside it buzzed erratically, its casing flecked with mud, but still pumping enough energy to keep his heater sputtering and his rations unit warm. The comm beacon remained dark, its signal quiet.

He had arranged a ring of stones around the thermal lantern, but even its glow seemed dulled by the downpour, casting only a faint flicker across the glistening tree trunks. The supply crate was slick with rain, puddles pooling in its crevices. His lightsaber lay beside it, damp but ready.

His dinner tray sat abandoned, rainwater streaming down the plate’s surface. The datapad, sealed in a waterproof casing, flickered with the ghostly text of Jedi Master Keons’ fragmented journal, blurred by condensation.

Josh stood at the water’s edge, soaked and still, as the storm surged around him. Sheets of rain pelted the swamp’s surface, turning mist into steam. Thunder cracked overhead, and in its wake, the silence returned. Strange beneath the roar of the rain.

He could feel it. The Dark Side. More present now. Not furious, but immense. Like the storm itself. Ancient, patient, coiled in the trees and water and muck. Watching.

Tyler was here. Somewhere.

Josh inhaled sharply, the rain trailing into his mouth and down his throat. He let the breath out slowly, steam curling from his lips in the chill.

He was alone. But not unwatched.

A branch cracked in the distance. Josh’s head snapped toward the sound, eyes narrowing beneath his hood’s dripping edge. At first, there was only mist and rain, but then he saw them.

Eyes. Red-gold. Glowing faintly in the shadows, just beyond the tree line. Watching.

Josh didn’t react beyond a flick of his gaze. He turned, feigning indifference, and walked slowly back toward his camp. The storm pounded the canopy above, water streaming down in heavy sheets, soaking him all over again.

By the time he reached the supply crate, he was shivering. He slipped off his outer robes and folded them carefully, placing them on the crate beside his lightsaber. Beneath, he wore the standard attire of a Jedi Padawan: a tunic of woven nerf-hide, darkened by rain but tough and well-worn; a tightly wrapped utility sash across his waist, where pouches and clips held emergency tools and survival rations; lightweight bracers over his forearms, reinforced with durasteel mesh; and tall boots crusted with Dagobah’s muck. His Padawan braid clung to his cheek, plastered there by rain.

Josh sat beneath a massive tree, its gnarled roots arching high enough to form a natural alcove. The leaves above created a makeshift canopy, shielding him from the worst of the downpour, though the wind still flung drops sideways. He pulled his knees up slightly, resting his arms on them, the distant thunder still grumbling in the sky like some sleeping beast.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then extended a hand, palm up. A small, moss-covered stone lifted gently from the ground, spinning in a lazy arc above his fingers. An idle exercise, but deliberate. An invitation. He could feel the presence circling.

And then, without warning, the rock jerked violently from his influence. Josh’s eyes snapped open. The stone hovered a few feet away, still spinning, but now under someone else’s control.

Tyler emerged from the mist like a shadow given form, his steps silent, assured. Rain poured in rivulets down his dark robes, the fabric clinging to his frame, trimmed in crimson thread that shimmered faintly with every lightning flash. 

His tunic bore none of the simplicity of Jedi garb. It was layered and sharp-edged, clasped at the shoulder with a Sith insignia half-hidden beneath a tattered black cloak. Silver buckles gleamed along his belt, beside two lightsaber hilts etched in harsh, angular script.

His presence in the Force was undeniable. Cold, deliberate, predatory. A pulse of power and control, like the quiet center of a storm.

Tyler’s hair was drenched and glistening, strands falling across his forehead. His red-gold eyes glowed beneath heavy lashes, the unmistakable mark of a Sith deep in his training, but behind the corruption, there was still something dangerously familiar. A smirk. A challenge. A spark of something that hadn’t quite burned out.

“Well,” Tyler drawled, voice low and smooth, nearly swallowed by the rain. “Didn’t think I’d find you here playing with rocks. Cute.” 

He flicked his wrist.

The rock snapped forward through the air like a blaster bolt, but Josh caught it mid-flight with a calm, fluid motion of the Force, never breaking eye contact. He continued to twirl it lazily in the air beside him, letting it orbit his hand in slow, deliberate circles.

“I was waiting for you to join me,” Josh said, tilting his head with a faint smile. “Or were you content just watching from the tree line like some brooding shadow?”

Tyler chuckled darkly, stepping closer, water pouring off the hem of his cloak in rivulets.

“Oh, so you did see me?” His lips curled, and Josh caught the glint of sharp canines.

Josh allowed himself a small smile, one that teetered between cautious and cocky.

“It was hard not to. You snapped a branch about thirty paces back.” He tilted his head, arching an eyebrow. “Your stealth needs work.”

Tyler let out a low, amused hum.

“Or maybe,” he said, taking another step forward, voice dipping low, “I wanted you to see me.”

Josh’s smile wavered, his pulse betraying him with a sharp thrum in his throat. Tyler kept coming, a slow, magnetic force that pulled at him like gravity.

“Wanted you to hear me,” Tyler continued, eyes gleaming beneath wet lashes, “to look at me.”

Josh took a slow breath through his nose, trying to recenter, but it was like trying to meditate in the middle of a lightning storm. He forced a chuckle, shakier than he wanted.

“Well… congratulations. Mission accomplished.”

He tossed the rock to Tyler.

Tyler caught it instantly. Without a pause, without a change in expression, he clenched his hand and hurled the stone with such brutal force that it slammed into the tree just inches from Josh’s head. The impact echoed through the swamp like a gunshot, and the stone embedded itself deep in the bark, stuck fast like a vibroblade buried in flesh.

Josh flinched. His breath caught. Rain trickled down his cheek like cold sweat. Slowly, he turned to look at the rock beside his face, mere inches from his skin.

Tyler’s smile was all wicked curve and lingering heat.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I frighten you?” he purred, tilting his head just enough to let the lantern’s flickering glow catch in his eyes like twin suns through smoke.

Josh swallowed down the flare of emotion in his chest, fear, yes, but also anger. The kind that scratched just beneath the surface of his skin, begging for release.

Breathe, he reminded himself. Master Keons said peace is not passive, it is willful. He centered himself, like he had trained for years to do. Clung to the stillness like it was armor.

“Not at all,” he replied, voice sharper than intended. “I too used to struggle with my control of the Force.”

Tyler’s smile faltered, just for a second. The jab hit. But he recovered quickly, licking a raindrop from his bottom lip with a flash of teeth.

“Daring today, aren’t we?” he mused. With a single fluid motion, he undid the fastenings of his outer robes and let them fall, heavy with rain, across the crate beside Josh’s own. Underneath, his tunic clung to him like second skin, soaked and darkened to charcoal. The lantern’s soft light carved his features from shadow, high cheekbones sharp as blades, the thin dark scar bisecting the bridge of his nose, and a faint, raw burn at the front of his neck where Josh had marked him.

Josh looked away, heat rising unbidden in his cheeks.

“What brings you to Dagobah?” he asked, too quickly. His voice sounded steadier than he felt. He pulled his knees up, hands laced tight around them, retreating behind posture and formality. “Surely not for a fight.”

Tyler didn’t respond right away. Instead, he watched Josh with an intensity that bordered on invasive, like he could see every crack in his composure. Every thought Josh didn’t want to say out loud.

The rain whispered through the canopy above them, pattering steadily, soft but insistent.

“Maybe I came for intel,” Tyler said finally, the words slow and deliberate. “Or maybe…” He leaned forward slightly, his tone slipping into something silkier. “I just wanted to see if you still looked at me like that.”

Josh frowned.

“Like what?”

“Like you think I’m redeemable.” Tyler’s smile was small and razor-sharp. “Like if you sit still enough, speak softly enough, maybe I’ll decide to crawl back into the light for you.”

Josh inhaled slowly, grounding himself in the present, in the rain, in the ache in his legs.

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” he said, voice cool now, careful. “To bring me to the Dark Side?”

Tyler's grin widened.

“Oh, so you do know why I’m here.” He stepped forward, the mud sucking gently at his boots, and crouched low across from Josh, knees brushing. “The Council sends their brightest little star to pull me back from the edge. But you? You shine too soft, too sincere.”

The air tightened around them. The Force pulsed low, like it was holding its breath.

“I’m not interested in being saved,” Tyler said, his voice dropping to a whisper as rainwater slid down his jaw. “And you…” His gaze dipped, slow and deliberate, before returning to Josh’s face. “You didn’t come here just to help me. You came to prove your dead Master right. That you’re good enough to turn someone like me.”

Josh’s jaw clenched, the words hitting harder than he wanted to admit.

“You don’t know me.”

Tyler leaned in closer, breath warm despite the cold.

“I do know you. Better than you’d like. You don’t want me back, you want to win. You want to walk into the Temple and say, ‘Look, I brought back the fallen.’ Like I’m some broken artifact you polished clean.”

Josh’s hands curled into fists in the damp fabric of his tunic.

“You’re not a prize.”

“No,” Tyler said, voice like a dare, “but you do want to claim me.”

Josh’s breath caught, throat tightening. The old ache, the one Tyler always managed to stir, was clawing its way up again, bitter and tangled. His heart thundered in his chest. Stay calm. He squeezed his fingers tight. The lightsaber was only a meter away, but it felt like a thousand.

“I don’t believe that,” he whispered.

Tyler’s eyes glinted, red-gold and wicked.

“No?” he murmured, leaning in, his lips brushing just above Josh’s ear. “Then why are you shaking?”

Josh hadn't realized he was. Rain slid down his temple, but it wasn’t from the storm alone.

The air between them crackled.

Josh shut his eyes for a moment, just to breathe. Just to not act on the instinct screaming in his chest to push Tyler back, to fight, to scream at him for everything he’d done. But peace...peace was the blade he had chosen to carry.

“Because I care,” he finally said.

Tyler stilled. Not recoiling. Not attacking. Just still.

Then, that slow, dangerous smile returned.

“Careful, Padawan,” he whispered, voice silk over glass. “You might make me believe you.”

He stood again, turned his back on Josh without fear, and paced slowly toward the tree line, as if daring him to follow. Or to run.

Josh hesitated only a moment before rising, brushing the wet leaves from his robes. The swamp around them pulsed with the low hum of unseen life, thick fog curling like tendrils around his boots as he followed Tyler’s retreating form.

He kept his eyes low, watching each step with care. Dagobah was riddled with hidden sinkholes and sudden drops. One misstep and he’d end up waist-deep in stagnant, reeking water. Tyler, of course, moved with the unbothered grace of someone who either knew exactly where he was going, or didn’t care if he fell.

Josh trailed behind, gaze flicking from roots to stones to the edge of each shadowed pool. The swamp seemed to close in around them with every step, trees leaning closer, fog thickening, the croak of unseen creatures echoing like warnings in the dark.

His heart was still hammering, but not from fear. Not exactly. It was something tangled, coiled tighter with every stolen glance at the figure ahead of him. Something dangerous. Something he’d been trained to push away, but now, it was like trying to hold back a storm with bare hands.

And then, he looked up too late.

Tyler had stopped without warning, half-turned, his head angled like he’d just thought of something wicked to say. Josh collided into him, stumbling forward and catching himself with both hands flat against Tyler’s back.

The contact was like a live wire. Warmth, even through the soaked fabric. Muscle shifting beneath his palms. A flash of memory, barely there, of the last time they’d touched. .

Tyler didn’t move at first. He just…froze.

Josh’s breath hitched, and he jerked his hands away like he’d been burned.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to-” he started, voice barely holding together.

Tyler turned, slow and smooth, water dripping from his dark hair in thin lines down his face. The look he gave Josh was unbearable, teeth gleaming in a crooked smirk, eyes glittering like red sabers in contact.

“Well,” he purred, voice silky and cruel, “if you wanted to get your hands on me Padawan, you could’ve just asked.”

Josh felt heat spike in his cheeks, completely at odds with the damp chill settling into his robes. He clenched his jaw, trying to remain composed, but his posture betrayed him. Too rigid, too rehearsed. Too obviously shaken.

Tyler stepped forward, again collapsing the distance between them with that same eerie, effortless intimacy. He walked like he already owned the ground they stood on. His breath mingled with Josh’s, warm and smelling faintly of ozone and smoke.

“Get too close again,” he whispered, lips curving around every word like a secret, “and I might have to leave another mark on you.”

Josh flinched, not from the threat, but from how his body reacted to it. There was something wrong with how his pulse stuttered, how his mind conjured old bruises and lingering heat like they were dreams, not warnings.

He swallowed, forcing air back into his lungs.

“I wasn’t-” he tried again, voice shaking now, unraveling at the edges.

“You weren’t what?” Tyler interrupted, his tone dripping with amusement. “Watching where you were going?”

Josh stared at him, the faint lantern light flickering off Tyler’s soaked tunic, catching in the scar across his nose, the curve of his mouth, the glint of something other in his eyes.

His training was screaming in the back of his mind. Find center. Control the breath. Do not react.

But Tyler was already in his head. Already pressing on every old wound like he knew exactly where they were. And yet…

Josh stepped back, heart pounding, but his boots found only slick moss. He nearly slipped, but Tyler caught him by the wrist, steadying him with fingers that lingered just a little too long.

“Careful,” Tyler murmured, his touch like heat through soaked fabric. “Wouldn’t want you to fall.”

Chapter Text

Tyler let go of Josh’s wrist, watching the naive Padawan stumble slightly, catching himself on instinct. The brief moment of reliance, of weakness, sent a sick, twisted thrill curling in Tyler’s gut. He already felt the strings tightening. Josh didn’t even realize how easily he could be pulled.

Without another word, Tyler turned on his heel and started toward the gnarled treeline, boots squelching through the sodden moss. Dense fog clung low over the spongy earth, curling around their ankles like curious spirits. Vines draped from twisted branches overhead, dripping with stagnant water, and somewhere deep within the murk, something croaked.

“I want to see something,” Tyler said over his shoulder, voice low and deliberate, like a predator toying with its prey.

Josh tensed, every instinct honed from battle and survival snapping to alert.

“See what?” he asked warily.

Tyler didn’t answer at first.

He simply turned, slowly, eyes narrowing with a curiosity that looked far too close to hunger. Rain dripped from the tips of his dark hair, gliding down the curve of his jaw. His fingers hovered near his belt, teasing the hilts of his sabers.

“I want to see what the Jedi taught you,” he said at last, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Then, without warning, he moved.

A blur of motion. Both sabers ignited in twin snap-hisses, the red blades crackling to life as he brought them down in a ruthless arc aimed straight for Josh’s head.

Josh flinched instinctively, dropping back into the mud, but his training took over before he hit the ground. With a twist of his core and a burst of Force-guided energy, he launched himself backward in a tight, controlled flip. Rain spattered off him in sheets as he cleared several feet in a single bound, landing lightly on the gnarled, moss-covered root of a nearby tree.

His breath came fast. His eyes locked on Tyler’s.

Surprised. But focused.

Tyler stood where Josh had been moments ago, sabers humming like blood-soaked promises, his grin maddeningly calm.

“Good,” he said. “I was hoping you’d make this interesting.” Tyler purred, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he stalked forward, twirling his sabers in slow, deliberate circles at his sides. The spinning blades cast flickering crimson light across the trunks of massive gnarltrees, casting monstrous shadows that danced with the mist.

Josh dodged again as Tyler struck out, this time with more force. A whirling series of slashes aimed to corner, not to kill. The hiss of plasma burned through the humid air, but Tyler’s blows were always just shy of landing. Precise. Controlled. Dangerous.

Josh ducked low, rolled, sprang sideways, but he looked rattled. Disarmed, outmatched. He kept glancing down at his empty belt, clearly aching for his lightsaber.

Tyler’s grin deepened.

“You’re fast,” he said, voice nearly a growl. “But speed means nothing without intent.”

Another strike, a blur of crimson, came from above. Josh barely twisted aside in time, landing with a splash in the shallow, murky water. The swamp stank of decay and old power. The Force was thick here, ancient and wild, and Tyler reveled in the chaos of it.

“Come on,” Tyler goaded, circling. “Show me what you're really made of, Padawan.”

Mist coiled tighter around them as the duel continued. One-sided, but deliberate. A lesson cloaked in menace.

Josh twisted, just barely evading another blazing strike, but this one came too close. The heat of Tyler’s saber singed the fabric of his tunic, and the shock of it spurred something sharp and reactive inside him.

He ducked under the next swing and launched forward. Tyler brought his second saber down in a wide arc, but Josh was already moving, rolling into the blow, seizing the wrist that held the weapon. With a sharp twist and a snap of momentum, Tyler’s saber flew from his grasp, spinning through the humid air.

Josh caught it.

The hilt was still hot in his palm, thrumming with unstable energy. He could feel the anger in it, the history. Red plasma burst to life with a hiss, casting blood-colored light across his face. He held it between them, breath coming fast, eyes locked on Tyler.

Tyler stood a few feet away, staring.

And then… he smiled.

A low chuckle slipped from his throat, dark and delighted, spreading into a laugh that echoed through the mist-choked trees. The red light painted streaks across his face, catching the glint in his eyes.

Josh narrowed his gaze, the saber humming in his grip.

“What?” he asked, steadying his stance. “What’s so funny?”

Tyler tilted his head slightly, his smile never faltering. He didn’t speak, not yet. He just gave the faintest nod, toward Josh’s hand.

Josh blinked. Then looked down.

There it was: a red saber, alive in his grasp. Crimson and wild. Sith.

It didn’t feel like his own, but it didn’t feel wrong, either. It felt… powerful. Hot. A surge of emotion twisted through his chest. Confusion, anger, exhilaration. The lines between defense and aggression had blurred. He hadn’t just reacted. He had taken it.

He had wanted it.

Tyler stepped forward with the easy confidence of someone who knew he was in control. The mist coiled around his boots, and the red glow from Josh’s saber threw wild shadows across his smirk.

“That look in your eyes,” Tyler murmured, voice low and teasing, “I’ve seen it before.”

Josh didn’t answer. His pulse pounded in his ears. The saber in his hand buzzed steadily, casting the swamp in an eerie, flickering red. It felt wrong.

Tyler raised his own saber slightly, then, without breaking eye contact, clicked it off.

Snap-hiss. Darkness swallowed the light between them. He hooked the saber into his belt.

Josh’s grip tightened on the saber he still held.

Tyler’s gaze dropped to it, then back up, eyes gleaming with something unspoken. He stepped even closer, letting his fingers trail just barely over Josh’s forearm. A light, coaxing touch. Almost gentle.

“You wear it well,” Tyler said softly, eyes half-lidded. “Like it was made for you.”

Josh flinched at the words. The weight of the saber in his hand felt unbearable now. Heavy with meaning. With history. With the wrongness of it.

“I don’t want this,” Josh said under his breath.

But even as the words left his mouth, his hand lifted, slow, trembling, and hovered over the ignition switch on the saber’s hilt. Just one press, and it would be over. No more heat burning through his chest. No more of this, this gnawing ache that felt too much like want.

The swamp around them was unnervingly still. The hiss of rain meeting the warm, brackish water was a distant whisper. Mist writhed around their boots like ghostly serpents, thick and cloying. Even the creatures had gone silent, as though the whole marsh was holding its breath, afraid to witness what came next.

Then, Tyler moved.

His hand shot out with a predator’s speed, his fingers locking around Josh’s in a grip that was cold and absolute. There was no hesitation. No room for resistance. The saber hilt pulsed faintly between their hands, like something alive. Like something watching.

“You don’t want this?” Tyler echoed, his voice low, laced with mockery and venom. “Funny. Your body says otherwise.”

Josh tried to recoil, to break free, but Tyler’s grip was immovable. He didn’t just hold his hand, he guided it, pushed his fingers back into position with agonizing slowness, curling them tight around the hilt.

“Uh-uh,” Tyler murmured, his breath hot against Josh’s cheek. There was no affection in it, just control. Domination. He was too close, and the scent of him filled Josh’s lungs: sweat and scorched metal, blood and earth.

“You don’t get to walk that back.”

Josh looked up, startled. His breath caught. Rain tracked down his face, but it didn’t hide the flicker of shame in his eyes. Tyler drank it in.

He leaned closer, mouth inches from Josh’s ear, voice now a silken thread pulled taut with cruelty.

“You held it. You lit it. You didn’t even flinch when it sang in your hand.”

The word sang scraped through Josh’s skull like a shard of glass. The red blade was still alive between them, its hum thick and oppressive in the air. It bathed the clearing in crimson, casting Tyler’s eyes in shadow and turning Josh’s face into a canvas of flickering light and dread.

“And now…” Tyler’s grin widened, teeth catching in the light like the glint of a predator’s fang. “Now you’re scared it felt good. ”

Josh struggled again, but Tyler tightened his grip. Not just to hold him there, but to remind him who was stronger. Who was winning.

“Look at you,” Tyler said, voice low and full of terrible delight. “Your heart's hammering. You’re terrified. Not of me. Not of the saber. But of yourself. Of what you liked.”

He tilted his head, gaze boring into Josh like a blade.

“You think the Council will forgive you for this? You think they even care?” His voice turned cruel, whisper-sharp. “They’ll cast you out the moment they sense the truth.”

Josh’s lip trembled, jaw tight, but he didn’t speak.

“You’re mine, Padawan,” Tyler whispered, final and cold. “Maybe not today, maybe not right this second. But you will be. You’ve already taken the first step.”

Then Tyler forced Josh’s thumb off the ignition switch, not to power down the blade, but to make sure he couldn’t. A deliberate act of control. Of ownership.

Josh flinched. Instinct screamed at him to pull away, to retreat, but Tyler’s grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened, his fingers wrapping around Josh’s like a chain locking into place. 

“That saber’s telling you the truth,” Tyler whispered, his lips brushing Josh’s ear like a curse. “You just don’t want to listen.”

Josh could feel it now, not just the weight of the saber in his hand, but the presence of it. Like it had bypassed his flesh and sunk straight into his core. It hummed in his spine, pulsed behind his eyes. It wanted him. And worse, something inside him answered.

The heat wasn’t from the blade anymore. It came from within, from a place he didn’t want to name. A place Tyler had dug his fingers into like he was peeling Josh open.

Josh’s breath hitched. The air felt too thick, like breathing through ash. Mist slithered between their feet and climbed their legs, devouring the swamp in all directions until only the two of them existed. Suspended in the crimson haze of the saber’s glow. The downpour had quieted to a slow, deliberate drizzle, every droplet seeming to fall with intention, as if the world itself was watching.

His jaw clenched. He tried again to break free. His fingers started to slip from the hilt, one by one. His mind screamed: this isn’t yours, this isn’t you, this isn’t your weapon...

But Tyler felt it. He felt the hesitation, the crack. And he pressed.

He pressed with all the patience of a spider waiting for the web to shiver.

Josh’s voice cracked.

“Let go.”

It wasn’t a plea. Not quite. But it was damn close.

Tyler tilted his head, and the smile that followed was not human. It was something cold wearing a man’s face.

“Why would I do that?” he murmured, almost sweetly. “You’ve already chosen, Joshua.”

Then his other hand rose, slow, deliberate, a serpent winding in, and settled over Josh’s hand on the hilt. Both of Tyler’s hands now encased his. The contact was like electricity. Like blood warming over a fire.

It wasn’t aggressive. It wasn’t tender. It was precise. Every motion calculated like a saber strike to the heart. Josh felt pinned in place. Physically, emotionally, spiritually.

Trapped.

Their faces were mere inches apart.

The only thing between them was the humming blade, low and angry, casting pulses of red across their skin like war drums echoing in the dark. It was no longer just light. It was judgment, raw and searing.

The trees of Dagobah stood around them like withered judges, their ancient limbs gnarled and twisted, draped in moss and shadow. None moved. None interfered. The swamp, like the Force itself, seemed to hold its breath.

Tyler’s gaze slowly drifted upward, searching Josh’s face. Not hurried, not frantic. He studied him. Devoured every flicker of conflict in his eyes like he was savoring it.

The saber’s glow bled into Josh’s irises, warm brown twisted into molten red, like coal smoldering in the aftermath of a firestorm.

And Tyler saw it.

His lips parted in a soft, almost reverent laugh.

“Huh…”

Josh blinked, unsure. His voice was hoarse.

“What?”

“That red,” Tyler said, his voice sinking into a near-growl, dark silk dragged over jagged steel. “It’s in your eyes.”

Josh’s brows creased. A frown flickered, but Tyler only leaned in, his expression unreadable, eyes gleaming with something electric and unholy. 

“Makes them look like mine.” His grin unfurled slow and sharp, all predator’s patience dressed in a lover’s tone. “It suits you.”

Josh’s breath hitched. Not from fear. Not entirely. It was something else. Something shapeless, dangerous. Like a hook sunk too deep to pull free. The compliment struck harder than any insult Tyler had ever spat.

Tyler’s voice dropped further, like a storm-cloud rolling in over open sea. 

“You don’t even see it, do you?” he murmured. “How right this looks on you. That fire in your grip. That fury behind your eyes. And the darkness-” his fingers flexed subtly over Josh’s knuckles, still wrapped around the hilt, “-the darkness that wants to crawl out of you, if you’d just stop pretending it’s not there.”

The saber between them hissed louder. A slow, snarling sound, hungry and aware. Its pulse quickened, flashing red against their faces, like blood surging through a heartbeat that didn’t belong to either of them.

Josh’s hand was trembling. The hilt, once a tool, now felt like a chain. Like shackles forged in fire and temptation. Then, suddenly, the blade vanished. A hiss, and silence.

The quiet left behind was unnerving. No more rain. No breath of wind. Just the whisper of moisture dripping from the ancient trees and the closeness of Tyler. Still holding him. Still there.

But the heat remained. Ghosting up through Josh’s skin like it had been burned into his very bones. Tyler’s touch, the saber’s echo. He couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

Desperate, Josh shoved the hilt forward, jamming it into Tyler’s chest like it might somehow sever the moment.

“Take it,” he said. A whisper. Hoarse. Barely his voice.

Tyler didn’t move. Didn’t blink. His expression shifted into something darker, something reverent.

“No.”

Josh’s eyes flared.

“What do you mean no?”

Tyler smiled, something thin, cold, and cruel.

“It’s yours. You earned it.”

“I don’t want it,” Josh snapped, the words scraping out like sparks.

“You chose it,” Tyler murmured, voice threading through the tension like poison through a vein. “You reached for it. You didn’t hesitate. Don’t lie to me, Joshua. Don’t lie to yourself.”

Josh flinched like he'd been struck. His chest rose, breath hitching again, ragged now. He stepped back, but Tyler followed, effortlessly, like a shadow cast by something far worse than light.

The gnarled tree behind Josh met him like a wall. Moss-damp bark pressed into his spine. Ancient. Cold. Unforgiving.

Tyler was there again, his presence swallowing the space between them. The hilt was still between them, heatless now, but heavier than ever.

Josh’s voice cracked.

“I said-”

“You’re shaking,” Tyler interrupted, gently, like it was a kindness. But his voice, god, his voice, was a knife wrapped in velvet, slicing even as it soothed.

“I’m not-”

Tyler leaned in, closer, until his mouth was next to Josh’s ear again. Breath hot. Intimate. Inevitable.

“You are. And you should be.”

A pause.

“Because you’re not afraid of me,” Tyler whispered. “You’re afraid I’m right.”

Josh shut his eyes, just for a second, but even in the darkness, that red glow was still there. Waiting.

Tyler leaned back just enough to look at him, his stare digging into Josh like hooks. He tilted his head. Smiled.

Josh tried to step aside, but Tyler mirrored him, perfectly. A predator shadowing prey.

“Your heart’s racing,” Tyler whispered, voice silk-wrapped steel, eyes gleaming like twin blades in the low, mist-thick light. “Why?”

Josh didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He turned sharply, jaw clenching, nostrils flaring, breath ragged and uneven. His whole body trembled, not from fear alone, but from something deeper. Raw. Confused. Want tangled with rage, heat laced with horror. He didn’t know where one ended and the other began and Tyler could see it.

He watched Josh like he was learning him. Noting every twitch, every breath, every ounce of resistance coiled into those tense muscles. And then, with a predator’s patience worn thin, Tyler moved.

It wasn’t an attack, not in the traditional sense. No saber. No fists. Just presence, all-consuming. One fluid stride and the space between them disappeared.

Tyler’s hand landed hard against Josh’s chest, fingers splaying with slow, possessive pressure. Heat radiated through soaked fabric, searing straight to skin, branding him. Holding him there.

And then...his mouth crashed into Josh’s.

It wasn’t a kiss. It was a conquest. Fierce. Unrelenting. A demon wearing human skin.

Josh gasped mid-breath, caught completely off guard. Every instinct screamed fight, fight, but something darker rooted him in place. Something that wanted this, that recognized it. That craved it.

Tyler kissed like he meant to erase Josh’s name. Like the only thing that mattered was the taste of him, the feel of him, the power in owning him. It was violent, messy, more battle than affection. Control disguised as passion.

Their clothes clung to skin, soaked and chilled from Dagobah’s relentless mist. Tyler pressed in harder, his body heat scalding. One hand cupped Josh’s jaw, forceful, not tender, while the other snaked around the back of his neck and gripped tight. A vice. A collar.

Josh’s hands were trapped, one crushed between them, pinned and useless; the other still curled reflexively around the saber hilt, now dim and forgotten. A weapon gone cold in his palm.

His breath hitched, sharp and shallow. His fingers twitched against Tyler’s chest, trying to push, to escape, but Tyler only chased the retreat, lips bruising, teeth grazing. He wanted the struggle. Fed on it.

And then, pain. A flash of sharp, white heat.

Tyler bit him. Hard. 

Josh gasped, choking on it. The copper taste of blood bloomed instantly, hot and shocking, spilling down his chin in a vivid red trail. A mark. A warning.

He whimpered, quiet, involuntary. Half-pain, half something far more dangerous. More shameful. His knees almost gave under him, buckling with the rush of adrenaline and the roar of his own heartbeat threatening to split his ribs.

He shoved harder now. Fueled by panic. Fury. Need. Heat he didn’t understand and didn’t want to.

“Tyler-” he gasped, voice broken and breathless.

Finally, finally, the force behind it broke them apart. Tyler stumbled back, just a step. Just enough.

Tyler’s chest heaved with breathless laughter, low, jagged, wrong. His mouth was still smeared crimson with Josh’s blood, glinting in the moonlight like war paint carved by teeth. He dragged his tongue across it with unhurried indulgence, savoring it. Tasting him.

His eyes, wide, wild, glittering, shone with something feral. Something uncaged. Then he threw his head back and laughed.

The sound was a knife. Hoarse, raw, echoing off the twisted trees like thunder cracking bone. It didn’t belong to a man. It was the kind of laugh that lived in nightmares and burned behind closed eyelids.

His hands lifted in mock surrender, palms out, but it was pure theater. There was no apology in his stance, just the arrogant sprawl of someone who knew he had already won.

“I always knew,” Tyler panted, licking a smear of blood from his lip with a lazy swipe, eyes locked on Josh like he was prey already cornered. “You’d taste as wild as you fight.”

Josh didn’t move. He stood there, trembling, breath coming in erratic bursts. Rainwater and blood trickled down his chin, warm against the chill crawling beneath his skin. 

Josh’s heart pounded harder now, wild, frantic, guilty, like it was trying to escape the cage of his ribs. He licked the blood from his lips, but it clung to his tongue like poison. Like proof.

“What…” His voice cracked, a raw whisper. “What was that?”

Tyler’s laughter erupted again. Louder this time, unhinged and sharp-edged, echoing through the swamp like it owned the air. There was no humor in it. Only madness. 

His dark eyes devoured Josh’s confusion, feeding on it like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.

Josh blinked, dizzy. And then he looked down. Tyler’s saber still sat cold and inert in his hand. Unlit, unused. He hadn’t dropped it. Hadn’t even tried to ignite it.

He could have.

The realization sliced through him like a blade. He hadn’t failed to act. He had chosen not to. Tyler had known he would. A trap. A test. A lesson. And Josh had failed.

Tyler’s smirk curved slow and sinister, like a knife drawing across skin. “Looks like someone picked their priority,” he murmured. The words oozed through the air, slow and deliberate, like honey laced with venom. “Tell me, Josh, was it mercy? Or curiosity that stayed your hand?”

The swamp held its breath. Mist curled around them in lazy tendrils, like ghostly fingers brushing against flesh. Fireflies blinked faintly in the distance, tiny sparks of gold against the rotting gloom. The ground beneath them pulsed with damp heat, the stench of decay rising with every heartbeat.

Josh’s jaw tightened until it ached. His pulse thundered behind his eyes. He took a single, shaking breath, then surged forward and slammed the saber against Tyler’s chest. The metal struck with a dull, angry thunk, and Josh clipped it back to Tyler’s belt with stiff, punishing force.

“There,” he bit out, voice like ground glass. “Take it. ”

Tyler didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.

He let Josh handle the weapon like it meant nothing, like it hadn’t been the center of this twisted ritual. His gaze never wavered, never blinked, never let go. Watching Josh with dark, glittering intensity. Something inside him burned, not just amusement anymore. Something deeper. Sicker. 

Josh turned, each step tight, deliberate, like he was trying to outrun the ghost that had just crawled inside his skin. But Tyler was faster.

A hand snapped out and clamped around Josh’s wrist. Ice-cold fingers sinking into skin.

“Running already?” Tyler murmured, his voice lower now. Intimate. Dangerous. “You give so much… and take so little. I’m starting to think you like being handled.”

Josh wrenched his arm, but Tyler didn’t let go.

Instead, he stepped in, close enough that their breath mingled. Close enough for Josh to smell the iron tang of his own blood on Tyler’s lips, still wet and glistening like a trophy. And beneath it, something fouler. Burnt flesh. The scent of rot. Rage, clinging to Tyler like a second skin, seeping from his pores like a poison he’d learned to love.

“Are you okay, Padawan?” Tyler said, voice low and velvety. A blade in silk. “You’re shaking like prey.”

His grip wasn’t rough, it was unnervingly gentle, like a predator petting something just before the kill. Heat radiated from his skin, feverish and wrong, bleeding into Josh’s bones until he couldn’t tell whether he was grounded or burning alive.

Josh yanked at his arm, teeth clenched.

“Let. Go.”

But Tyler’s eyes glittered. He didn’t flinch. Instead, he stepped closer, their bodies brushing, breath to breath, and the smile he wore wasn’t just cruel. It was indulgent.

“Make me,” he said, barely above a whisper. A dare. A taunt. A noose.

Josh didn’t respond. His chest was tight, breath caught somewhere between fury and a rising, sick heat that curled low in his stomach. Tyler’s other hand slid up, slowly, methodically, trailing from the hem of Josh’s tunic to rest just above his waistband. Fingers hovered like a threat. A promise. Intimate and unwanted.

The swamp held its breath. Even the creatures seemed suspended, like the world itself was watching.

“We’re not getting off topic now, Joshua. You didn’t ignite the saber,” Tyler murmured, voice curling into Josh’s ear like smoke. “You had the chance. You held it. You chose. ” His fingers ghosted upward, pressing lightly against Josh’s abdomen. “Maybe you thought you were sparing me. But we both know you were sparing yourself.”

Josh’s jaw flexed, chest rising and falling in erratic bursts.

“Shut up.”

Tyler laughed. Low, intimate, vicious.

“There it is. That fire. That denial. You wear it like armor, but it’s made of glass.”

His grip tightened, and then, without warning, he moved. Lips crashing against Josh’s again in a brutal collision. Teeth, blood, breath.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was consumption. A violent claiming. Josh barely had time to process it before heat and instinct slammed through him like a tidal wave. His hands flew up, shoving, grappling, but Tyler didn’t back down. He groaned into the contact, wanted it. Fed on it.

The kiss deepened, rougher now. Possessive and punishing. Tyler’s hand twisted into the fabric at Josh’s back, dragging him closer, forcing friction. The sabers at his belt pressed hard against Josh’s hip, cold and unyielding. A silent reminder: you let this happen.

Josh’s body betrayed him. His fists curled in Tyler’s shirt, white-knuckled. Anchoring. Or maybe begging. He didn’t know anymore. His brain screamed stop, but the rest of him answered with treacherous silence.

Tyler pulled back just enough to smirk against Josh’s mouth, lips bloodied and raw.

“You hate this?” he asked, breathless and mocking. “You hate me?”

Josh snapped out of it. He shoved, hard, palms slamming into Tyler’s chest. Desperate to break the contact between them.

But Tyler only grinned wider.

“Good,” he whispered, voice sharp as shattered glass. “Hate is just love with teeth.”

And then he moved again, fast and brutal.

One twist, one pivot, and Josh was down. Slammed into the mud so hard the breath exploded from his lungs. Cold earth soaked through his back, stealing what warmth he had left. Tyler straddled his hips, weight pinning him like a curse, wrists locked above his head in an iron grip.

Josh thrashed, more out of fury than escape, lips curling into a snarl.

“Get the fuck off me-”

But Tyler only leaned down, his mouth grazing the corner of Josh’s like a cruel promise.

“You had your chance to run,” he said, voice low and venom-laced. “You stayed.”

Josh’s chest heaved. His pulse thundered like war drums.

“You’re sick,” he spat, and meant every word.

Tyler tilted his head, mock-thoughtful.

“And yet here you are, drenched, trembling, burning for something you can’t name. Tell me, Padawan, which of us is really sick?”

He licked a tiny smear of blood from his lips, Josh’s blood, and grinned through the crimson like it was a prize. The taste lingered on his tongue, and he savored it, eyes locked on Josh’s with something dark and gloating. A predator who knew he’d already won.

Josh turned his face away, disgust curling in his gut, but his body refused to back him up. Every cell still buzzed from Tyler’s touch, traitorous and alive.

“You’re in my head,” Josh ground out. “You twist everything.”

Tyler’s grin sharpened.

“I don’t need to be in your head,” he sneered. “You’re already unraveling. All I have to do is watch you come apart.”

He pressed closer, grinding his hips, a slow, deliberate threat, cruel not because of violence, but because of how precisely he knew the effect. Josh flinched, breath caught between loathing and something hotter, more dangerous.

Tyler leaned in, his voice a jagged whisper against Josh’s ear.

“Your body,” he said, “tells the truth your mouth is too weak to speak.”

Josh shut his eyes, hating him. Hating himself more.

“Say it,” Tyler whispered, not a plea but a command. “Say you want me.”

Josh didn’t answer. Wouldn’t.

He turned his face away, eyes burning, mouth trembling like every syllable he refused was another nail in the coffin of his pride. The rain came back, first a whisper, then a roar, drenching them both in the murk of sky and storm. 

It ran in dark rivulets through Tyler’s soaked hair, dripping from his jaw, striking Josh’s skin like acid. Mud smeared across their bodies. Any dignity Josh had clung to was sinking with him.

“Still scared of me?” Tyler murmured, voice low and venomous. His grip loosened for a moment, a breath, an illusion of mercy, before he slammed Josh’s wrists with one hand back into the earth with bruising force. Josh’s body jolted, a choked sound escaping before he could swallow it down.

“Good,” Tyler hissed. “Fear looks good on you.”

Josh gritted his teeth, breath ragged, fury flaring through the ache in his bones.

“You want me afraid because it’s the only way you matter. Without fear, you’re nothing. Just a coward who needs control to feel powerful.”

Tyler’s eyes lit with something darker than rage. Glee, pure and poisonous. He leaned in, and his thumb dragged slowly, possessively, down the line of Josh’s throat. Like a brand. Like a claim.

“And yet here you are,” he purred. “Pinned beneath me. Trembling for me. Your mouth lies, but your body-” his voice dropped to a jagged whisper, “your body knows who owns it.”

“You think this is victory?” Josh spat. “This is your rot bleeding into me. I see it. I feel it. But I won’t let it consume me.”

Tyler leaned in, breath cold against Josh’s jaw.

“Oh, you want to save me now? Pull me back to your precious Light?” His laugh was low and vicious. “There’s nothing left to save.”

Josh’s breath hitched.

“That’s not true. I’ve seen you hesitate. You remember. You still bleed. That means there’s something human in you.”

Tyler’s eyes darkened.

“Hope makes you weak. Mercy is a leash. And attachment-” He sneered the word. “Attachment is the delusion Jedi cling to when they’re too afraid to feel.”

Josh’s jaw tightened.

“We don’t cling. We choose. Compassion isn’t weakness. Detachment isn’t emptiness.”

“Keep reciting the code,” Tyler said, voice low and full of scorn. “Maybe one day you’ll believe it. Maybe one day it’ll make the hollow in your chest feel full.”

“Better hollow than rotten,” Josh bit back. “You gave yourself to the dark because it made you feel powerful, but you’re still just a scared boy, hiding behind rage.”

Tyler’s fingers fisted in Josh’s short hair, yanking his head back with brutal precision.

“You don’t get to talk about fear. I see yours. I taste it.”

Josh’s pulse pounded, but his voice didn’t waver.

“Fear doesn’t own me. Not like it owns you.”

Tyler paused, breath sharp and uneven. His grip didn’t loosen, but something in his expression faltered, flickering like a flame caught in wind. Not weakness. Recognition. A shadow of something remembered.

The rain poured harder now, relentless, drenching them both in cold that couldn’t wash away the filth between them. Mud clung to their clothes, smeared across skin, soaked into the bruises already blooming.

The friction between their bodies built unbearably. It fed a fire in Josh’s gut he couldn’t extinguish, couldn’t name. He tried to smother it under discipline, under the Code, under shame. But moment by moment, it betrayed him. Moment by moment, he betrayed himself.

Tyler’s voice, when he finally spoke again, dropped to a low, venomous whisper, cruel as a blade sliding beneath skin.

“Your precious Jedi Master leaned on the Light and look where that got him. I outsmarted him, crushed him because he was weaker. Slower, less ruthless than me. He was strong enough to fight, but not strong enough to win. Just like you.”

His lips brushed the shell of Josh’s ear, cold and mocking, the contrast making the heat of his breath burn all the worse.

“You couldn’t save him. You can’t save yourself. But maybe…maybe I can teach you how to really surrender.”

And that was it. Josh’s body and mind reached its limit. A fracture line split wide open, between horror and desire, between shame and fury. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t bear it.

His eyes snapped open. Pupils blown wide with adrenaline and something worse. Something that scared him more than Tyler ever could. He tore one hand free and curled his fingers inward.

The Force exploded.

A wave of raw power slammed into Tyler like a hurricane made of rage. He flew back with a violent crack, hitting the earth hard. He slid through the muck, landing in a sprawl of limbs and soaked black garments, the rain driving into the ground like nails.

Josh sat up, gasping, every inch of him shaking. His hands were caked in mud. His chest heaved like he’d run for miles. He could feel the blood drying on his mouth, the echo of Tyler’s hands still burned into his skin.

Across the clearing, Tyler stirred. He rose to one elbow, slowly, like a revenant awakened from a grave. His hair clung to his forehead in wet strands, soaked and dripping with rain and grime. His eyes, dark and unreadable, locked onto Josh with cold precision.

He laughed. A low, hoarse sound that carried the weight of cruelty and a patient predator’s amusement.

“Interesting,” he rasped, dragging a filthy hand through his hair with a slow, deliberate flick, like a man savoring the moment. “That almost hurt.”

Josh didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His fists were still clenched in the mud, jaw locked so tight it screamed with pain.

Tyler rose to his feet with a fluid grace that was almost unnatural, every movement measured, controlled. Like a spider weaving a web and enjoying every thread. His grin twisted into a sneer.

“You’re still trembling,” he said, voice soft but dripping poison. “Still feeling it, aren’t you? Still wanting.”

Josh’s glare could strip flesh from bone. He staggered upright, muscles coiled and ready to lash out.

“You’re disgusting,” he spat. “I didn’t want that.”

Tyler tilted his head, a drip of blood trailing from the corner of his mouth, painting a sick red contrast against his pale skin and cruel smile.

“Didn’t you?” he murmured, voice almost mocking in its intimacy. “Funny. You never stopped me. Not then. Not when it mattered most.”

Josh’s eyes narrowed, fury and shame burning behind them.

“You think the Force cares about your guilt?” Tyler’s voice dropped lower, cold and calculating, like a razor sharpening before the kill. “The Force isn’t your judge. It doesn’t pity you. It only knows what is.”

He stepped closer, each deliberate movement cracking the silence like a threat. His eyes glowed faintly in the dark, relentless and merciless.

“And what is ... is that beneath all your lies, all your desperate rituals, part of you begged for it. You wanted to be broken. To be claimed.”

Josh’s eyes flared with defiance, trembling but fierce.

“I don’t crave the Dark Side,” he spat, voice raw but steady. “I’m everything you’re not. I stand for hope, for discipline. For honor. You-you're just a corrupted shadow clinging to whatever scraps of power you can steal.”

Tyler chuckled, slow and cold, like ice cracking beneath a frozen lake.

“Yeah, alright. Oh, and just so we’re clear,” he said, voice casual as if discussing the weather, “you’re the one who struck first. Technically… you just attacked an unarmed man.”

He winked, slow and deliberate, like a dagger sliding between ribs.

“Let’s see how the Council enjoys that little fact about their golden boy.”

Josh blinked, heat rising fiercely in his chest.

“Unarmed?” The word shattered in his throat. He pointed, hand trembling, at the lightsabers resting at Tyler’s hip. “You had weapons.”

Tyler’s smirk twisted into a grotesque mask, rain streaming down his face like blood from a fresh wound.

“Didn’t even touch them,” he said with mock innocence, spreading his arms wide. “Meanwhile, you unleashed the Force like a grenade. No provocation, no restraint.”

He stepped forward, mud sucking at his boots, but he moved like a man who owns the world and all its fears.

“That wasn’t defense,” Tyler said, voice low and venomous. “That was raw, ugly rage. Weakness masquerading as defiance.”

Josh’s stomach churned, cold dread seeping in. The words were poison. They echoed a terrible truth buried deep inside him. He was right.

“You let your emotions twist you,” Tyler continued, each word hammered like a nail in a coffin. “You bowed to them, surrendered control. You lashed out like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. Tell me, Joshua. How did it feel?”

He circled him slowly, a predator toying with wounded prey.

“Liberating? Terrifying? …Exciting?”

Josh didn’t answer. His teeth clenched until his jaw throbbed. But the shame burned louder, hot and gnawing beneath his skin.

Tyler stopped in front of him, leaning in so close that his breath mingled with the cold rain. His voice dropped, soft and venomous like honey laced with poison.

Josh flinched as if struck, a jolt rippling through his body.

“You don’t even recognize yourself right now, do you?” Tyler sneered, voice laced with venom.

Tyler’s lips twisted into a cruel smile. His voice dropped to a low, dangerous whisper, like a blade drawn in the dark.

“No,” he said. “You don’t. You’re just repeating the lies they’ve fed you since you were a child. Obedience. Restraint. Submission dressed up as strength.”

He stepped forward, closing the space between them with slow, deliberate menace.

“You think that makes you stronger than me?” Tyler’s voice turned sharp and scornful, slicing through the air. “You. With your trembling hands, your cracking composure? You broke the moment you felt what power really tastes like. The second you realized you wanted more.”

Josh shook his head, denial rising instinctively, but Tyler’s words were already inside him, burrowing deep. The doubt he’d tried to bury was surfacing, dragged out by Tyler’s voice like poison leeching into his veins.

“I chose clarity,” Tyler hissed, eyes burning with fanatic fire. “I saw through the Jedi long ago. Liars. Cowards. Puppeteers dangling your leash while preaching ‘peace.’ The Sith? We’re here to tear that leash. And you? You’re still licking the boots that forged your cage.”

Josh spun to face him, eyes blazing with desperate defiance.

“I am not like you!”

Lightning cracked overhead, casting Tyler’s face into inhuman relief. His eyes were pits of madness and malice. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.

“No,” he said slowly. “You’re worse. Because you’re still pretending.”

He leaned in close, breath cold against Josh’s cheek.

“Is that why you shook when I kissed you? Why your hands still tremble when I’m near?”

Josh’s breath hitched, heart hammering in his chest. Tyler’s smile widened like a hunter tasting blood.

“You wanted it,” he murmured. “You want freedom. You want me. And it kills you.”

Panic clawed at Josh’s throat. He shoved Tyler back, chest heaving, the Force crackling at his fingertips again but Tyler only laughed. A deep, ugly sound that echoed off the trees like a death knell.

“There it is,” Tyler said, arms spreading wide, reveling in his dominance. “The real you. No lightsaber. No ceremony. Just raw fury and failure.” His voice dropped to a reverent sneer. “You don’t need a saber to fall, Joshua. You only need me.”

Josh’s mind raced, terror blooming like a shadow devouring everything he thought he knew. Tyler’s poison was seeping into every corner of his resolve. Those carefully planted doubts, those twisted half-truths. Like acid eating away at stone. The walls were closing in. And worst of all… he couldn’t stop it.

Josh’s whole body went rigid. Rain sluiced down his spine like ice-cold needles, chilling him to the bone.

“I felt it,” Tyler murmured, eyes gleaming with cruel delight, like a predator savoring the kill. “The heat. The hunger. You buried it deep, just like they taught you. Shoved it down like it was filth. Like you were filth. But I dragged it up from the dark.” He leaned in, close enough that their foreheads nearly touched, his breath hot, rancid, and unforgiving. “And you liked it.”

“That’s not true,” Josh gasped, voice splintering under the weight of the moment. “You used your body, used my feelings, to twist me-”

“Obviously,” Tyler purred, smile unfurling slow and wicked, like smoke curling off something burning. “That’s what they’re for.”

He stepped back with deliberate slowness, the mud clutching at his boots like the ground itself wanted to drag him down. But even the earth couldn’t contain him. He began to circle Josh, movements sleek, serpentine, his voice a knife drawn too close to skin.

“You are so easy to unravel,” he hissed. “So desperate to belong. So terrified of what you felt. And still, so starved to be seen. To be wanted. And I saw you, didn’t I? All of you.”

Josh flinched as if slapped, the truth landing like a blow.

“Compassion,” Tyler spat the word like it offended him. “That’s what your Masters preach. But they punish anything real. Anything human. Codes built to cage you. Strip you. Sterilize you.”

He tilted his head, eyes burning.

“Tell me, Josh… how many nights did you lie awake, drowning in guilt you didn’t understand? How long have you choked on the lie that your need was weakness?”

Josh stayed silent, his mouth a tight line. His silence was all he had left. Thin, fragile armor barely holding.

Tyler stopped in front of him again, close now, gaze locked on Josh with predatory precision. He studied him like a flame.

“I gave you freedom,” Tyler whispered, his voice turning velvet-soft, soaked in poison. “One kiss. One taste. That’s all it took to rip open the rot beneath their perfect little temple. And you didn’t pull away.”

Josh’s jaw clenched, the muscle ticking.

“I didn’t ask for that. I didn’t choose to kiss you.”

For the briefest flicker of a moment, Tyler’s smile faltered. But then it twisted into something harsher, more brutal. His grin returned, all teeth and cruelty.

“No,” he said, voice low and lethal. “You chose cowardice. ”

He stepped in even closer. Josh could feel the heat rolling off him in waves: rage barely contained in flesh.

“You kissed me back, Josh,” Tyler breathed. “You trembled. And it wasn’t fear. Don’t lie. You wanted it. You wanted me. ”

Josh tried to turn sharply away, but Tyler’s hand shot out like a viper’s strike, gripping his chin with unyielding force, forcing him to meet his merciless gaze.

“You can lie to the Council. You can lie to yourself. But you will never lie to me. I see the crack in you, Joshua. I made it.”

Josh’s hands shook violently at his sides. The Force swirled chaotically around him. Raw, unrestrained, a tempest of guilt, desire, fury, and grief all crashing together like a storm with no center.

“Do it, ” Tyler whispered, voice low and cruel as a knife’s edge. “Strike me down. Prove them right.”

Josh didn’t move.

“Too scared?” Tyler sneered, voice razor-sharp, slicing through the heavy silence like a knife. “Too weak?” He leaned in close, breath hot and venomous, a predator savoring the kill. “You know what I see when I look at you, Joshua? A boy playing dress-up in Jedi robes. A scared little child pretending to be a warrior. Afraid to face the darkness gnawing at your soul.”

Josh’s head snapped up, breath hitching violently, like he’d just been struck in the gut.

“And when the Council casts you out, and they will, I’ll be waiting.” Tyler’s voice dropped to a cruel rasp, dripping with malice. “Not with open arms,” he snarled, “but with cold, unbreakable chains.”

Josh’s stomach twisted, a knot of dread tightening around his heart.

“Make no mistake,” Tyler said, stepping back, rain slicing between them like shards of glass. “You don’t belong with those self-righteous zealots. You belong with me. Where the monsters go. Where the real power lives.”

Josh’s voice was barely more than a whisper, cracked and raw.

“I’m not a monster.”

Tyler’s smile curled into a cruel, contemptuous snarl.

“No,” he spat. “But you’re not a Jedi either.”

They locked eyes, breathing hard, drenched in cold rain that blurred the world around them. The storm was a shroud, but it couldn’t hide the growing fracture inside Josh.

“We’ll see,” Tyler murmured, voice cold and certain. “That armor of yours is already cracking, Padawan. Next time…I won’t even need to push. You’ll fall on your own.”

With that, he turned. Melting into the woods like a shadow reclaiming what it was always meant to consume.

Josh stood alone, trembling, soaked to the bone, the ache in his chest twisting into something unrecognizable. 

Chapter Text

Josh sat cross-legged on the cold, damp ground of the camp, the flickering firelight casting long shadows over his tense features. His eyes were closed. The forest around him was quiet, the rain having finally tapered off, leaving only the soft drip of water from leaves and branches.

Tyler had vanished into the woods like a wraith, swallowed by the night and mist after their strange encounter. Yet Josh knew that he wasn’t truly gone. That presence lingered, clawing at the edges of his thoughts like a persistent, unwelcome echo.

He tried to center himself, to reach for the serenity the Jedi taught him to find in meditation. But Tyler’s words were a poison seed, planted deep in his mind: That armor of yours is already cracking, Padawan.

Josh’s fingers twitched against his knees. He didn’t want to admit it, but a flicker of something else burned beneath the surface. Not hate. Not peace. Something tangled, messy, and utterly forbidden.

He expected Tyler to come back. The thought gnawed at him, and he forced it away, pushed it down harder than any dark feeling he’d ever known. He needed to hate Tyler. Needed to keep that distance, to never touch that part of himself again.

But somewhere beneath the layers of anger and resolve, the ache in his chest whispered a dangerous question: What if you already have?

Josh shook his head violently, forcing his eyes wide open. His breath came out in sharp huffs of frustration. The camp around him was quiet, save for the distant chirp of nocturnal creatures and the faint rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. Yet his mind was anything but calm. He rose abruptly, his boots crunching against the dirt as he strode toward his tent with purpose.

Inside, he reached for the sleek, compact Jedi comlink. A palm-sized holo-communicator etched with ancient symbols of the Jedi Order and glowing faintly with the blue light of the Republic. The device hummed softly in his hand as he activated it, speaking in a low, urgent tone.

“This is Jedi Padawan Joshua Dun, recording for the High Council.”

His voice was low but steady, carried by the soft hum of the portable comm device resting on the crate in front of him.

“I have made initial contact with the Sith apprentice. The confrontation was not planned, but inevitable. We exchanged words, and briefly, blows. The skirmish was short, and though neither of us sustained physical injuries, the nature of the encounter was... deeply unsettling.”

He drew a breath, letting it out slowly through his nose, eyes still closed in meditation.

“The apprentice’s grasp of mental manipulation exceeds our initial intelligence. His presence in the Force is insidious, like oil bleeding into water. Difficult to detect until it’s already upon you. He invaded my thoughts with unnatural ease, conjuring images and emotions that felt entirely real. His illusions are not mere distractions. They are weapons.”

A pause followed, quieter than silence. When Josh spoke again, his voice was firmer. An edge of iron beneath the calm.

“I am attempting to center myself through meditation. I have reviewed the Archives on Sith mind domination, but have yet to find a reliable method to resist it fully. My connection to the Force feels clouded when he’s near. It is as if he knows where to press, what memories to unearth, what truths I haven’t yet made peace with.”

Another beat of silence. Then, with solemn conviction:

“I will proceed with caution, but I will not retreat. The apprentice is dangerous, not just because of his strength, but because of the pain that drives it. If there is still a sliver of light within him, I must find it. But if he is beyond redemption…”

Josh’s jaw tensed. When he spoke again, his words were heavy with duty.

“Then I will do what must be done. May the Force guide me.”

With a sharp click, Josh deactivated the comlink and slid it carefully into the open crate nearby, burying it under a thin layer of fabric to mask its presence. His eyes blinked slowly, heavy with exhaustion, but sleep was a stranger he could not welcome. The gnawing worry over Tyler's whereabouts gnawed at him relentlessly.

He dragged his tongue over his cracked bottom lip, tasting the metallic tang of dried blood as the fresh cut began to scab. A souvenir from a careless encounter earlier that day. The sting reminded him that even when the body weakened, the mind could not afford rest.

Josh sank onto the cot, the metal frame creaking under his weight as he lowered himself down. His limbs ached, muscles twitching from the day's strain, the adrenaline that had carried him this far now draining from his body, leaving only exhaustion in its place. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to rub away the grit and pressure building behind them.

His fingers drifted to his side, finding the raised, jagged edge of a scar. His thumb ghosted over the old wound. A reminder etched into flesh. Tyler’s mark.

Their encounter earlier, sharp and unexpected, played over in his mind like a skipped record that refused to move forward. Tyler had gotten into his head again. Too easily. Like slipping a key into a familiar lock. It hadn’t even taken much, just a few words in that low, unreadable voice. 

A glance that lasted too long. A smirk that curled at the edge like he knew exactly what he was doing. And maybe he did. Maybe that was the worst part: Tyler always seemed to know.

Josh turned onto his side, dragging the thin blanket up to his shoulders, but sleep stayed out of reach. Instead, his thoughts betrayed him, conjuring the heat of Tyler’s breath when he’d leaned in close under the pretense of speaking quietly. The ghost of imagined contact flickered at the corner of his mouth. Tyler’s lips. His mouth on...

Josh tensed, squeezing his eyes shut like that would be enough to banish the image. It wasn’t. His stomach coiled, tight with something he refused to name. He let out a slow breath, tried to shift his mind toward something else, anything else.

But the silence of the tent only seemed to amplify the memory, the sensation.

Don’t, he told himself. Don’t go there. It’s nothing. It meant nothing.

Still, the warmth lingered in the hollows of his thoughts, refusing to fade. He rolled onto his back and stared at the top of the tent, counting stitches in the fabric like tally marks in a cell.

Eventually, exhaustion crept in around the edges again. He let it take him, one breath at a time, hoping sleep would come before Tyler did, again, in his dreams.

—

Tyler wandered through the thick trees, his fingers trailing along the trunks of the ancient bark, feeling the slick moss and jagged crevices as though the forest might speak back to him. 

The air was damp, the only light a pale shimmer filtering through the heavy mist. It had to be well past midnight. The usual sounds of night creatures were muted here, replaced by an almost sacred silence.

He hadn’t returned to camp.

His last encounter with Josh had left his blood humming, his nerves raw with thrill. The way Josh had fallen under his words, given in to the urges of the darkness, it was intoxicating. Tyler had toyed with him like a cat with a wounded bird, pushing him to the edge. 

He knew if he’d gone any further, if he’d given in to the hunger gnawing behind his teeth, he’d have killed the Padawan.

And the thing was…he’d done it before.

The memory crept up unbidden.

He’d only been sixteen. Still more chaos than control. The Sith Academy on Dromund Kaas was a crucible of agony, competition, and thinly veiled murder. Sparring matches were supposed to be instructional, carefully watched. But sometimes… instructors turned their heads.

Tyler had faced Urie, a fellow student who had mocked him for weeks. The fight began with formal posturing, bows, saber ignitions, but it had ended in screams. Tyler lost himself the moment Urie’s blade nicked his nose. Something inside had snapped, and what followed was a blur of fury and elation.

He remembered the look in Urie’s eyes as he realized Tyler wasn’t stopping. Not after the disarm. Not after the first strike to his side. Not even after the second slash, diagonal and deep across his chest.

It was the third strike, the one to the throat, that finally ended it.

Silence fell after that, broken only by the hiss of extinguishing sabers and the crackle of blood on the floor. The others said nothing. The instructor merely watched, eyes unreadable, and said, “Finally.”

Tyler had felt nothing. Except satisfaction.

Now, years later, that same flickering heat stirred within him again, for Josh.

But this time it was different. He didn’t want to finish him yet. Josh wasn’t like the others. There was a resistance in him, a fight that made him squirm just the right way under Tyler’s attention. No, he didn’t want Josh dead. Not yet.

He wasn’t done playing with his food.

The trees gave way to the edges of the camp. The swamp pulsed with low fog, and somewhere nearby, a rat skittered through the underbrush. Tyler spotted the warm, orange glow of their dying fire and the dark canvas tents flapping gently in the breeze.

As he crept forward, he felt it: a quietness in the Force. Not absence, presence. Silent. Still. Watching.

Josh.

Tyler smiled.

He moved to the tent, quiet as breath, and wrapped one hand around the edge of the flap. He peeled it open with slow precision, and there, inside, sprawled on a makeshift cot, was Josh. Shirtless. Sweat drenched his chest, his skin slick and flushed. His face twitched in the shadows, locked in some inner turmoil. A dream. Or a nightmare.

Tyler stepped in.

The air in the tent was warm, saturated with the scent of cloth, leather, and the faint copper tang of dried blood. Tyler crouched beside him, taking in every detail. The slow rise and fall of his chest. The muscles beneath his skin twitching as though reacting to invisible blades. Tyler’s eyes flicked to the faint scar he’d carved into Josh’s side, a mark of ownership, of restraint.

His fingers moved before his thoughts did, brushing over the scar lightly, reverently. The touch was slow, intimate, his fingertips just grazing Josh’s skin, tracing the lifted edges as though reading a sacred text.

And then...

A sudden pull. The Force shifted, twisting around him like a noose. His lungs clenched. The world bent. Tyler’s body went limp, falling forward over Josh’s still form, except he didn’t land. He gasped.

When he opened his eyes again, the world had changed.

Gone was the tent, the swamp, the night. Now the air was dry and acrid, thick with smoke and fire. Corellia. Tyler stood in the heart of a ship graveyard, sabers drawn, breath heavy. And directly before him, on his knees, was Master Keons. 

The Jedi’s expression was hard and unwavering, even as Tyler’s lightsabers glowed red inches from his neck, crossed in a perfect “X.”

And suddenly, Tyler knew. This wasn’t his dream. It was Josh’s memory.

Josh’s voice echoed in the air, broken and desperate.

“NO!”

But time, as in every nightmare, refused to obey. Tyler’s eyes gleamed with hunger and chaos, his arms beginning to descend.

Josh’s body collided into his, shoulder slamming into Tyler’s chest with the full force of a body fueled by fury and desperation. They toppled to the ground, hitting the dust in a cloud of heat and ash, but it was too late. One of Tyler’s blades had already slid through Keons’ neck.

The light in the Jedi Master’s eyes flickered out like a candle snuffed by wind.

Josh screamed. A sound guttural, raw, more animal than human. He didn’t notice the way Tyler froze beneath him, or the way his gaze shifted with sudden confusion, as if he was only now waking up into the dream.

“Couldn't save your Master,” Tyler said with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, tone sharp with mockery, “even in a dream.”

Wait...

Josh’s head jerked up.

The words echoed like glass shattering, reverberating with a wrongness that made his skin crawl. It wasn’t just what was said, it was how it was said. The inflection, the timing. It didn’t match the dozens of times he’d relived this moment in dreams. It didn’t match what Tyler had said on that day.

This wasn’t right.

Josh blinked. The edges of the nightmare wavered, the usual haze of memory trembling like heat on stone. His breath caught in his throat.

That’s not what he said.

The statement barely had time to form before the world around him cracked like shattered glass. The edges of the nightmare fractured. Colors bleeding, sounds warping, then the entire memory tore apart with violent force.

But Josh didn’t register the shift.

The oppressive fog of grief and anger that had filled his dream clung to him, wrapped around his mind like chains. He was moving before he knew it, striking out with righteous fury, heart thundering, blood roaring in his ears.

The scene never changed, not to him.

He barreled forward, body taut with purpose, and slammed into Tyler with bone-jarring force. They went down hard. Tyler hit the canvas floor of the tent, the real tent, but Josh didn’t notice. Didn’t see. The musty scent of fabric, the cool night air against his sweat-drenched skin, none of it registered.

In his mind, he was still there. Still in the blood-soaked ship-graveyard of Corellia. Still watching his Master fall.

He straddled Tyler, hands clamping down on his throat with merciless strength. He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t think. Rage burned too brightly for that. The Force surged through him like a storm, warping around his grief and pain, amplifying it.

“Why-why couldn’t I stop it-” The words escaped him in a cracked whisper, barely audible, more like a thought bleeding into sound.

And Tyler’s face blurred between past and present. The lines of memory and reality smeared together, indistinguishable.

Josh didn’t realize he was awake. He didn’t realize he was attacking someone who wasn’t a dream.

Tyler choked, the sound wet and broken, rattling in his throat. His eyes bulged, not with mockery, not with dark delight, not even the thrill of violence, but with pure, unfiltered shock.

His hands clawed at Josh’s wrists, nails digging in weakly, his legs kicking with desperate, failing strength. His skin, usually flushed with heat and tension, had gone pale, sickly pale, the color leached from his face as oxygen fled his lungs. His lips parted in a rasping gasp, teeth bared not in defiance but in panic.

And then, a flicker. A crack in the mask.

Josh saw it.

Tyler’s burning red irises wavered. The glow of the Dark Side flickered like a flame caught in a sudden wind. Then, it faltered. The red bled away, retreating, shrinking into some distant part of him.

And what remained were brown eyes. Warm. Human. Terrified. Not Sith eyes. Not the eyes of a monster or a nightmare. These were the eyes of a person. A boy. A boy whose life was slipping through Josh’s fingers.

They widened in alarm. His pupils trembled, not with fury or defiance, but pure, desperate fear. Not the fear of pain. The fear of dying.

That look hit Josh like a lightning strike. The Force pulsed around him, not with rage now, but with clarity. The haze lifted. Everything crashed into focus.

This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t the memory he kept reliving in his nightmares. This was real.

His surroundings sharpened with terrifying suddenness. The coarse texture of the tent floor beneath his knees, the scent of sweat and canvas in the air, the tremor of Tyler’s body beneath him. And the bruising pressure of his own hands around Tyler’s throat.

Josh went still. For a heartbeat, the world held its breath.

Then he let go like he’d been scalded. He stumbled back with a strangled gasp, his hands shaking, his heart pounding so hard it made his chest ache. He stared at Tyler, at the deep red marks blooming across his pale neck, at the rise and fall of his chest as he coughed and sucked in air.

He’d done that. He’d nearly killed him.

“Tyler-” The name barely made it out. Josh’s voice was a raw whisper, broken and horrified. “I… I didn’t know...I-I thought I was still…” His words crumbled, too tangled in guilt and disbelief to finish.

He looked down at his hands. The same hands that had once sworn to protect. To heal. And he had wrapped them around someone’s throat, unprovoked.

For a heartbeat, Tyler lay utterly still.

Then...snap.

His eyes flew open, blazing crimson once more. Rage ignited behind them like fire consuming oil, wild and furious and real. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, throat working as he pulled in air through a bruised windpipe. A hoarse, guttural snarl escaped his lips. And before Josh could draw another breath, Tyler flung out a hand.

Josh didn’t even have time to shield.

The pulse of Force energy hit him like a tidal wave. He was thrown backward, crashing into the canvas wall of the tent with a bone-jarring thud. A crate toppled over beside him, ration packs spilling across the floor like scattered leaves.

Tyler rose, swaying for just a second before regaining his balance. His hand hovered at his side, trembling faintly.

“Don’t-” his voice rasped, nearly broken, before he swallowed and tried again. “Don’t act like you care, Jedi. Don’t apologize.”

It came out rough and damaged like gravel dragged over steel. But it was still laced with venom, still laced with that familiar heat. The voice he always used when he wanted to cut deeper than a lightsaber could.

“You don’t care about me.” He staggered a step forward, each bootfall crunching over scattered debris. “You care about your own reflection in that ridiculous Jedi mirror. You care about what it says about you if you kill me.”

His breathing was uneven, strained from being choked so heavily.

“You just want to preserve whatever fragile honor you think you still have,” he spat, voice cracking near the end. “Within that sacred little Jedi Code of yours.”

Josh tried to rise, arms shaking beneath him. 

He looked up. And despite the fury burning in Tyler’s posture, despite the venom in his voice, something in his eyes was fractured. Not soft. Not forgiving. Just… hurt. Josh’s gaze searched his face, lips parting, not sure what he was even trying to say.

Tyler beat him to it.

He bared his teeth in a bitter, broken smile.

“It’s pathetic, really,” he said, voice low, rough, mocking. “That you couldn’t save your Master even in a dream.”

That did it.

Josh stilled, not from fear. From realization. His breath hitched, and he blinked, stunned.

“…Wait,” he whispered, more to himself than Tyler. His brows drew together slowly. “That’s what you said. In my nightmare.” He stared at him. “You… that was really you?”

Tyler didn’t answer. The silence between them was thick, humming with tension, with something unspoken.

Josh’s voice was barely audible as the weight of it all settled on his shoulders.

“I thought it was just a memory…”

Tyler said nothing, but the flicker in his eyes, the sharp shift in his stance, told Josh everything he needed to know. That moment in the dream… the weight of his presence… the way he had spoken. Not like a specter or a replayed trauma, but like a person seeing it unfold. Reacting to it. Feeding off it.

“You were actually in there,” Josh said again, firmer now. He stood fully, adrenaline still trembling through his bones. “That wasn’t the Force showing me a lesson. It was you.”

Tyler’s smile was thin, humorless. A knife’s edge with no warmth behind it. His crimson eyes glinted like fresh blood caught in moonlight, flickering with anger, amusement, maybe even a trace of disappointment.

Josh’s breath came in slow, uneven pulls. His chest still ached with the aftermath of the Force’s brutal surge, and his hands trembled faintly at his sides. He stared at Tyler, the image of those terrified brown eyes still burned into the backs of his eyelids, even as the red ones stared him down again.

“How did you do that?” Josh asked, voice low, hoarse.

Tyler rolled his neck slowly, rubbing at the bruised skin with a grimace. He stood fluidly, every movement coiled with a predatory grace, and paced a few feet away, then back again, like he was trying to keep himself from unraveling.

“I don’t know,” he said finally, voice tight. “The Force wants us together so badly, it keeps shoving me into your head like some sort of sick joke. Even when I’m awake. Even when I don’t try.” He narrowed his eyes. “Seems it doesn’t care about consent anymore.”

Josh flinched at the edge in Tyler’s tone and exhaled, guilt rising thick and bitter like smoke in his throat. He dragged a hand down his face, fingers trembling faintly.

“I’m sorry I hurt you unprovoked,” he said, voice low, rough with sincerity. “That’s not the Jedi way.” He swallowed, his gaze flicking up to meet Tyler’s. “I thought I was still in the dream. That it wasn’t real. That you were just… part of it.”

Tyler stilled.

For a breathless second, the tent felt frozen in time. Josh thought, hoped, that maybe his words, the honesty laced in them, would crack through the fury. That maybe, just maybe, Tyler would see him. 

But then Tyler’s lips twitched. The smirk that bloomed on his face wasn’t amused. It was cold, sharp as a blade unsheathed in the dark. There was no softness in his eyes, just the gleam of a hunter who’d found the scent again.

He moved slowly, deliberately. His boots crunched softly on the dirt covered fabric, each step controlled. Coiled. Dangerous.

And then he crouched in front of Josh, low and close, folding himself down with an ease that spoke of long-practiced menace. The space between them vanished. His breath was hot against Josh’s face, reeking faintly of blood and adrenaline.

“Oh,” Tyler purred, voice rasping through the bruises in his throat like silk dragged over stone, “so you would’ve attacked me either way?”

The words were meant to sound flirtatious, teasing, laced with something sultry and dark. But they fell flat. Because Josh saw it now.

Whatever flicker of vulnerability had shown in Tyler’s eyes moments ago was gone. Buried. His face was a mask again, sharpened into something cruel and mocking.

Josh swallowed hard, heat prickling beneath his skin as the danger returned in full force. Tyler’s presence was suffocating. Consuming.

Tyler tilted his head just slightly, red eyes devouring every flicker of emotion on Josh’s face. Every crack, every stutter in his control.

“So violently, too,” he murmured, mock-sympathetic. “Choked me like you meant it. Like you enjoyed it.”

Josh’s breath caught. His gut twisted.

“That’s not-”

Tyler cut him off, voice lowering into something quieter, more intimate. And far more dangerous.

“Doesn’t seem very Jedi of you, Joshua.”

His name came out like a curse and a caress, wrapped in venom and something colder still. Tyler raised a hand and traced two fingers lightly across the mottled bruises blooming along his own neck, dragging attention to the evidence of what Josh had done.

“Starting to think,” he whispered, “you like the Dark Side a little more than you’re willing to admit.”

Josh recoiled slightly, as though the words themselves were acidic.

His fists clenched, not in anger, but in restraint. In the aching need to deny what had already begun to rot inside him.

Because the truth was. He had felt it. That rush. That power. That intoxicating clarity. In the dream, when he had wrapped his hands around Tyler’s throat, it had felt good.

And Tyler knew it.

He was staring at Josh now, not with seduction, not even with scorn but with precision. Like a blade carving through flesh. Watching every flicker of shame, every war inside him, and cataloging them all like weaknesses to be used later.

Josh felt the storm gathering in his own mind. Guilt, fury, the slippery thrill of remembered power. But he clenched his jaw and forced it back. No. He couldn’t afford to lose focus. Not now. Not again.

He shut his eyes for a second and exhaled sharply, as though trying to blow out the embers burning inside him. He opened his eyes, gaze leveling with the empty space before him, and slowly pushed himself up from the floor.

Tyler rose with him, both of them standing now in the narrow space between them. Too close for comfort. The canvas of the tent seemed to shrink around them as Tyler moved in, closing the already small distance until their chests brushed. His presence was a gravity all its own. Heat, pressure, danger threaded with something darkly playful.

Tyler tilted his head, his breath brushing Josh’s cheek, voice low and amused.

“Careful,” he murmured. “Stare at me like that much longer and I’ll start to think you’re getting ideas.”

Josh’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t back away.

Tyler’s lips curved, not quite a smile, something sharper, laced with mockery and something else. Something hotter.

“What’s the matter?” he went on, his voice just above a whisper now. “Afraid if you touch me again, you’ll like it even more? Or are you scared you might kill me?”

Josh’s throat bobbed. Tyler’s body was pressed up against his now, deliberate and slow, like he was daring him to react.

Then Tyler leaned in closer, his mouth beside Josh’s ear, voice as soft and dangerous as a blade slipping beneath skin.

“Try not to choke me this time,” he whispered, “unless you mean it.”

Josh jerked back like he’d been burned.

But Tyler’s hand shot out, fingers curling tight around Josh’s bare shoulder before he could retreat all the way. His grip was firm and possessive. It sent a bolt of heat lancing through Josh’s spine.

“Don’t,” Tyler said, voice low and raw now, no longer mocking. 

Josh didn’t have time to respond.

Tyler pulled him in hard, mouth colliding with his in a kiss that wasn’t gentle, wasn’t kind. It was hungry, uncoordinated, almost reckless. Teeth scraped. Breath tangled. Josh’s hands went to Tyler’s chest, meaning to push him away, but they stayed there. 

He kissed back before he could think. Before he could stop himself.

But then guilt surged up like a wave, and Josh tried to break the contact, pulling away with a sharp inhale.

“Stop this is-”

Tyler didn’t let him finish.

He followed the movement, surging in again, his other hand sliding up to the back of Josh’s neck, keeping him locked in place. His tongue dragged slowly across Josh’s split lip, tasting the copper edge of blood with an almost deliberate cruelty. Josh flinched at the sting but his breath caught too, stuck between a gasp and something like a moan.

“You don’t get to run,” Tyler murmured against his mouth. “Not after what you did to me.”

Josh’s mind screamed to stop this. His heart pounded like drums. But his body, the same body that remembered the rush of power, the heat of anger, the ache of longing, leaned forward again, caught in the gravity of a boy who wore the dark like a second skin and knew exactly how to make Josh want it too.

The kiss deepened, messy and urgent, more clash than harmony. Josh’s hands gripped Tyler’s waist without thinking, fingers digging in like he needed an anchor, like letting go would shatter him entirely. Tyler responded in kind, teeth grazing, lips bruising, the kind of kiss that wasn’t meant to be soft. 

Josh broke away just long enough to drag in a breath, eyes wild, pupils blown wide. He didn’t say a word, just moved. Pulled Tyler with him, staggering backward until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the cot.

He sat, and Tyler didn’t wait for permission. He climbed into his lap, straddling him, settling in like he belonged there. Like it was his right. His hands found Josh’s bare shoulders again, fingers pressing hard into freckled skin, like he wanted to leave marks. Like he needed to.

Josh swallowed hard, hands braced on Tyler’s thighs now, breath ragged.

Tyler leaned in, lips brushing Josh’s ear, his voice low and laced with wicked satisfaction.

“You know,” he murmured, fingers tightening, “it was kind of hot…the way you almost killed me.”

Josh froze. Just for a second.

Tyler pulled back far enough to look him in the eye, that razor’s edge smirk playing on his lips.

“That look on your face? The power in your hands?” He gave a breathless and slightly pained laugh. “Terrifying. I’ve never wanted anyone more.”

Josh’s jaw clenched, but not from anger. From need. From the war raging behind his eyes. He didn’t know if this was redemption or ruin. All he knew was that he was already falling. And Tyler was right there to catch him, grinning like the devil with blood on his mouth.

Josh's gaze drifted lower, to Tyler’s throat, where shadows of bruises still lingered, mottled and raw from minutes before. 

His stomach twisted, shame curling deep, but his lips moved before his thoughts could stop them. He pressed them to the bruised skin gently, reverently, as though trying to apologize without words.

Tyler exhaled shakily, head tipping to the side to bare more of his neck.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered, voice rough and breathless. “Come on… mark me more.”

Josh froze. His mouth hovered just above the skin, and for a long, suspended second, he didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. His hands tightened on Tyler’s hips.

“It’s not the Jedi way,” he said, jaw clenched, the words hollow even as he spoke them.

Tyler laughed softly, mocking, low, edged like a vibroblade. His fingers curled into Josh’s shoulders, nails digging in just enough to sting. He dragged Josh forward until their foreheads nearly touched, his red eyes glowing like coals in the dark.

“You already kissed me, Josh,” he said, voice dark and sharp. “Pretty sure your precious Code doesn’t allow that either.”

Josh didn’t answer. His breath was ragged. His muscles coiled tight with restraint he was quickly losing.

Tyler leaned in, voice a whisper in his ear. Taunting, cruel, intimate.

“Face it. You’ve dipped more than a toe in the Dark Side.” His smile widened, almost feral. “You liked how it felt when your hand was around my throat. The power. The heat. You wanted to see the light leave my eyes. Wanted to feel my soul leave my body.”

Josh’s heart pounded, his pulse crashing in his ears. The memory, the way Tyler had resisted, had fought for his life.

“You didn’t stop then,” Tyler murmured. “And you won’t stop now.”

His hand slid up the back of Josh’s neck, fingers threading through his hair, grip tightening with cruel confidence.

“So go on,” he whispered. “Mark me. Hurt me. Make it real.”

Josh’s breath hitched. His lips were still hovering at the curve of Tyler’s neck, the skin pale and flushed, marred already by a spreading bruise from earlier. The bruise he had left.

The Code screamed at him from the edges of his mind, but the voice was small now. Distant. Drowned out by the heat between them and the dangerous pull of Tyler’s voice, his touch, his fire.

So he gave in. Again.

Josh lowered his head.

His lips found the mottled skin at the base of Tyler’s throat, and he kissed it. He opened his mouth and sucked, slow and hard, over the bruise his hand had made, until pain and heat pulsed beneath his tongue.

Tyler gasped, a sharp, ragged sound that broke halfway into a moan. His fingers fisted in Josh’s hair, hips shifting in Josh’s lap.

“Fuck,” he hissed through clenched teeth, breath trembling. “Stings like hell.”

Josh didn’t stop. Couldn’t. His grip tightened on Tyler’s waist as he worked the mark deeper into his skin, the taste of sweat and something metallic tingling at the edge of his mouth. It was wrong. It was reckless. And it felt like falling.

When he finally pulled back, a dark mark bloomed where skin had already been bruised. Angry and fresh. He stared at it, chest heaving, shame prickling at the edge of satisfaction.

Tyler exhaled a broken laugh, breath catching as his head dropped forward against Josh’s.

“Now that,” he rasped, voice wrecked but smug, “is more like it.”

Josh barely moved. His lips were still parted, breath shallow, body trembling with something he couldn’t name. Something dark and hungry and beyond redemption.

Tyler tilted his head, his eyes glowing brighter in the dim light, burning red with flecks of gold, heat and fury barely leashed.

“Tell me this feels wrong,” he murmured, voice soaked in challenge. It curled at the edges, a razor blade sheathed in silk. “Tell me you don’t want more.”

Josh didn’t speak.

He couldn’t, not with Tyler’s breath ghosting over his lips, not with the memory of that moan still ringing in his ears, not with the way desire and shame curled together like smoke in his lungs. The thrum of want inside him wasn’t a whisper anymore, it was a roar. And it drowned everything else out.

The Code. His training. His purpose. All of it blurred.

The only thing clear was the Sith sitting on top of him.

Those unnatural eyes stared into him, through him. No softness lived there. Only hunger. Control. A fire held behind a cruel, smiling mask. And the longer Josh stayed, the brighter that flame burned.

Tyler’s mouth curled into a smirk, sharp and knowing, every inch of it designed to cut.

“You’ve already betrayed them,” he whispered, fingers still twisted in Josh’s hair. “The Code. Your Master. Everything you swore to uphold.” He leaned in, lips brushing Josh’s ear now, breath hot and deliberate. “And you liked it.”

Josh shuddered. Because he had.

Tyler’s voice dropped lower, velvet-wrapped venom.

“You think this is just weakness? No. This is power waiting to be claimed. You’re already mine. You just haven’t admitted it yet.”

Josh’s throat worked around a silent gasp. He felt like he was standing on the edge of something vast and endless, a void pulling at every fiber of his being.

And the worst part?

He didn’t want to back away. He wanted to fall. 

The Code felt distant. Faded. Fragile.

So he gave in. Countless more times.

Their mouths crashed together again, fiercer now, urgent and raw. Tyler kissed like a predator, like he was devouring a secret, like he was proving a point. There was no tenderness. Just fire and teeth and control.

And Josh kissed back like a man unmade. Desperate, reckless, needing to feel something more than the tearing inside him.

Tyler growled low in his throat, dragging Josh closer until there was no space between them.

“That’s it,” he whispered against his lips. “Forget the Jedi. Forget the Code. This is real.”

And Josh, for one devastating moment, believed him.

Tyler’s teeth sank into Josh’s lip. Sharp, sudden, a sting that split skin and drew hot, metallic blood. Josh flinched, a flash of pain igniting raw anger deep inside him. His hands pushed at Tyler’s chest, eyes burning fiercely, demanding space, demanding control.

But Tyler only laughed. Blood smeared across his lips, glistening wickedly in the dim light like a cruel badge of conquest. Then, with a sudden shove, Tyler forced Josh backward onto the cot, the rough canvas pressing against his back.

Tyler’s hands came down beside Josh’s head, fingers splayed wide on the coarse fabric, pinning him in place. A thin thread of spit, mingled with blood, dripped slowly from Tyler’s mouth, tracing a grimy path down Josh’s cheek. His eyes blazed with wild, untamed hunger, like a beast unleashed from its cage, sharp and merciless.

The scar across Tyler’s nose caught the fading light, jagged and angry, a permanent reminder of battles past. His dark hair was tousled and messy, strands falling unevenly over his forehead, damp with sweat and intensity. The bruises on his neck darkened further, a twisted tapestry of pain and possession, while the hickey Josh had left blossomed into a deep, almost black mark. A testament to their collision of cruelty and desire.

Josh’s fingers trembled as he reached up, desperate to peel back Tyler’s tunic, craving more skin, more of the raw connection that burned between them. But before he could touch the fabric, Tyler’s hand shot out, slapping Josh’s wrist away with sharp, unyielding force.

The light in Tyler’s eyes deepened, swirling with shadow as he summoned the Force with a quiet command. An invisible pressure slammed Josh back against the cot with a suddenness that stole his breath, holding him fast and unresisting.

“Not yet,” Tyler hissed, voice low, dangerous, dripping with dark promise. “You don’t get to decide.”

Tyler’s grip tightened beside Josh’s head, fingers pressing into the fabric with a calculated possessiveness. The weight of the Force around Josh was suffocating. Unyielding, absolute. He was pinned, completely helpless under Tyler’s dark command, every muscle frozen by the invisible chains binding him to the cot.

Tyler’s lips hovered over Josh’s collarbone, his breath hot and rough against skin. Without warning, he sank his teeth in hard, dragging a searing, painful mark into the pale flesh. Josh gasped sharply, pain and heat flaring across his chest.

But Tyler didn’t stop. His mouth moved deliberately, cruelly, leaving a trail of bruises, each one stinging, marking Josh like a claim. Josh could do nothing but watch, every sharp bite a reminder of his own powerlessness. His fists clenched at his sides, frustration and need warring in his chest, but Tyler’s control was absolute.

Tyler’s red eyes flicked up, glinting with wicked satisfaction as he paused, lips tracing a final, slow line over Josh’s skin.

“I’m going to ruin you,” he murmured, voice thick with dark amusement.

Chapter Text

Tyler’s grip through the Force held Josh completely still. Every muscle locked, unable to move or speak. Josh’s jaw felt like it was wired shut, and despite the panic fluttering in his chest, there was something dangerously thrilling about the helplessness. He pressed his lips together, letting out a soft whine that barely escaped.

Tyler leaned in close, breath warm against Josh’s cheek. He let out a low chuckle, fingers still braced beside Josh’s head, tightening subtly so Josh could feel the relentless Force pressure pinning him in place. 

Then, purposefully, Tyler shifted his body forward, pressing his hips against Josh’s lower half. 

The movement was both intentional and precise. The cloth of their pants brushing together, fabric sliding against fabric. Every inch of contact sent a jolt of heat through Josh, a tension that left him trembling.

His eyes fluttered shut as Tyler’s hips ground back and forth, creating a friction that was almost unbearable. His breath hitched, coming out in a surprised, pained half–moan that sounded closer to a whimper.

Each shift of Tyler’s weight pressed into him more insistently, pressing home exactly how dominant Tyler could be, reminding Josh that he was utterly at the Sith’s mercy.

“You’ve fallen so far, Jedi,” Tyler purred, his voice low and rich with dark amusement. He slowed just enough for his lips to brush Josh’s earlobe. “Day one of your mission to bring me to the light, and you’ve already given in.”

Josh’s pulse thundered in his ears. Heat coiled low in his belly, a dizzying swirl of confusion and want. His heart pounded against his ribs as Tyler’s hips shifted again.

The Force still held him fast, but it was the press of Tyler’s body, warm and unyielding, that truly trapped him. That closeness sent a rush of need through his veins, something raw and unfamiliar.

Tyler let out a soft, mocking sigh, fingers trailing slowly down Josh’s temple.

“You’re going to make such a powerful Sith, Joshua,” he whispered, his voice nearly swallowed by the hum of the night beyond the fabric walls.

Josh’s chest heaved, nerves alight, overwhelmed by sensation. Tyler’s breath ghosted against his skin, the steady, insistent grind of his hips blurring thought and instinct.

It was like a blindfold settling over his eyes. Darkness folding in around his mind as the Dark Side seeped deeper, taking hold. Part of him fought, but another part… wasn’t sure it wanted the struggle to end. The surrender felt both terrifying and inevitable.

He was pinned, not just by Tyler’s body, but by the intoxicating pull of the darkness within. And somewhere beneath it all, a whisper of desire echoed louder than reason.

Tyler’s gaze dropped to his lips, then climbed back up, eyes glowing with flickers of red and unmistakable triumph.

“Know this,” he murmured, voice husky and slow, “you will be mine. No matter what happens. You. Will. Be. Mine.”

Each word landed with the rhythm of his hips, pressing Josh deeper into the cot. Their robes tangled and bunched between them, a whisper of fabric against the intensity of their bodies, of everything neither of them was supposed to feel, but couldn’t stop.

Josh’s breath hitched, a mix of frustration and want swirling violently inside him. He tried to focus on the rough canvas of the cot beneath him, on the distant chorus of nocturnal insects outside the tent, but Tyler’s presence swallowed every thought.

And beneath the surface, a darker current tugged at him. Slow, insistent, like cold fingers wrapping around his soul. He could feel it. The dark side, dragging him down, whispering promises of power and freedom from the burdens he bore. The more he fought, the tighter the shadow gripped, seeping into his blood, into his very being.

And then, slowly, Tyler’s control loosened. The invisible grip that bound Josh began to slip. Not completely, but just enough. Just enough for his fingers to twitch, for his limbs to ache with the ghost of movement. Josh’s muscles trembled as he blinked up at Tyler, confused and breathless.

Tyler hovered above him, his breath hot against Josh’s cheek, his mouth barely brushing the shell of his ear as he murmured, “Fight back.” There was a goading edge to his voice now, half dare, half demand. “Show me you’re still in there, Jedi.”

Josh’s jaw clenched, the Force around it slackening just enough that he could feel his tongue shift, feel the pain where Tyler’s earlier grip had silenced him.

And deep inside, a part of him wondered if fighting was even worth it anymore.

Tyler shifted, repositioning himself with slow intent, and then lowered his head.

Josh barely had time to process the movement before Tyler’s tongue dragged a languid line across his bare torso. From his belly button to just below his collarbone, leaving a trail of damp heat in its wake. Josh shuddered, breath catching, as goosebumps prickled across his skin in a sudden wave.

A low, involuntary sound slipped from his throat, something between a gasp and a growl. His hands clenched reflexively in the sheets, mind splintering beneath the assault of sensation.

Their foreheads met again, breaths mingling in sharp, shallow bursts. Tyler’s hair, disheveled and damp with sweat, fell in wild strands over his brow, brushing against Josh’s skin.

The lantern cast a flickering glow through the canvas of the tent, catching on the angry slash of the scar across Tyler’s nose. It made the bruises on his throat look darker, deeper. The hickey stood out stark and possessive against pale skin, almost black now. A brand.

And Tyler’s eyes, those cursed, red-ringed eyes, never wavered. They burned with hunger, with knowledge, with intent. He saw everything: every flicker in Josh’s expression, every tremble in his chest. He catalogued each one like a weapon.

“I can feel it,” Tyler whispered, the tip of his nose brushing against Josh’s. “The fear. The anger. It’s already in you, isn’t it?” His hand slid over Josh’s chest, splayed wide, fingers grazing sensitive skin and teasing over a nipple. Josh flinched at the contact, body taut, breath ragged.

“You’re so close.”

Josh let out a choked breath, his chest heaving. The pressure Tyler held over him cracked, just slightly, but it was enough. Enough for something to snap inside him. Not fear. Not resistance. 

Power.

He had felt it before. Earlier that day, in the tangled fight among the twisted trees of the forest. The dark side had whispered then, a tempting shadow crawling beneath his skin, and it had scared him. But now… it roared louder, and he couldn’t deny its pull any longer.

He moved.

The Force shattered like glass between them, and Josh surged upward, capturing Tyler’s mouth with his own in a bruising kiss. There was no hesitation, no tenderness, just heat, and fury, and something deeper that had no name. His hands tangled in Tyler’s collar, dragging him closer, devouring the space between them.

Tyler gasped into the kiss, surprised, but only for a heartbeat.

Then Josh flipped them.

With one fluid, Force-fueled movement, he rolled their bodies, shoving Tyler down against the cot with a thud. The shift knocked the breath from Tyler’s lungs, and before he could react, Josh’s hands closed around his wrists, pinning them hard against the canvas.

Their positions reversed, and for the first time, Tyler looked up at Josh.

His lips parted, breath shallow. The smugness was gone. Replaced by something sharp and intrigued. His gold-ringed eyes gleamed with dangerous amusement.

“Perfect,” he breathed, “keep going.”

Josh didn’t answer. His eyes were darker now. Storm-cloud grey, flecked with something wild and unnatural. It sort of looked like a deep, condemning red.

His chest rose and fell, hands gripping Tyler’s wrists tight enough to leave bruises. The Force rippled off him in waves, barely restrained.

He knew what it was. The dark side. It pulsed through him like wildfire, surging with a fierce intensity that drowned out the whispers of the Jedi Code. It filled his veins, seared his nerves, and for a fleeting moment…it felt intoxicating.

The weight of the Code, the endless rules, the restraint, the fear of failure, it all began to peel away. In its place: fire. Raw, real, and consuming.

And Tyler saw it. His smirk faded, replaced by something deeper. Approval, maybe, or anticipation. He didn’t resist when Josh leaned in, didn’t fight when Josh’s hands released his wrists only to move around his back, pulling him upright in one swift motion.

Josh held him there, breath ragged, eyes searching Tyler’s with equal parts fury and need. Then kissed him again. Hard. Furious. The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was a collision. A battle. Josh clung to Tyler like he was the only real thing in the galaxy, and maybe he was. In that moment, nothing else mattered.

Tyler responded instantly, a low, hungry sound rumbling in his throat, his hands gripping Josh’s back fiercely. They were locked in something that felt like combustion. Like stars collapsing inward.

The Force crackled around them, wild and uncontained.

And somewhere deep inside, Josh felt a shift. A strange, twisting sensation curled in his gut, like he was trapped behind invisible bars. His own self fighting him, a war he hadn’t expected. He noticed it, but for now, he didn’t care. 

Josh’s lips crushed against Tyler’s with an intensity that felt as though twin suns had collided. Warmth flooded Josh’s cheeks the moment their mouths pressed together, every nerve ending igniting beneath the brutal press of Tyler’s body against his.

The scent of sweat hung heavy between them as their tongues met in a sharp, urgent dance.

Josh’s hands tightened around Tyler’s back, pressing him closer until there was no air between their chests. Tyler’s arms wrapped around Josh’s shoulders, fingers digging in just enough to guide the angle of the kiss, to deepen it.

Each movement felt both violent and electric: the way Tyler’s tongue swept in, the heat of Tyler’s breath catching in Josh’s mouth, the sharp scrape of Tyler’s teeth at Josh’s lower lip as the kiss grew more demanding.

The cot groaned beneath them as Tyler shifted his weight, and Josh tasted just a hint of copper. Josh’s heartbeat thundered so loud it echoed in his ears; he could feel Tyler’s pulse pounding under his chin, felt each faithful tremor of the Force thrumming between them.

Their knees tangled, bodies slick with sweat under the dim lantern glow, and Josh knew he was as lost as Tyler was found. Unable to distinguish where his desire ended and Tyler’s control began.

The world narrowed to the desperate press of lips, the flash of red-ringed eyes behind half-lidded lids, the thrill of power surging through Josh’s veins. Every breath that rasped between them echoed with promise and danger, a promise that neither intended to deny.

But then, a sudden sharpness cut through the haze.

A cold flicker of doubt, like a whispered warning buried deep in Josh’s mind, stirred beneath the rush of sensation. The darkness, thick, enveloping, all-consuming, wrapped tighter around him, and with it came the weight of everything he was trying to fight against.

Something in the Force twisted.

Unseen and unbidden, Tyler’s raw emotion, fear, longing, and control, pierced into Josh’s mind like a blade slipping between armor plates. The connection flared open without warning, and suddenly Josh wasn’t just feeling Tyler.

He was inside Tyler. Or Tyler was inside him. The lines blurred.

They stood on a foreign planet. Ashen ground stretching toward obsidian cliffs, lit only by the eerie glow of twin moons hanging low in a violet sky. The air shimmered with the hum of distant engines, echoing like cries of long-dead droids. The stars above were wrong, constellations fractured, unnatural.

Tyler was there, silhouetted against the horizon like a wraith. His cloak whipped around him in the wind. And then, with a hiss that sent a chill through Josh’s spine, twin lightsabers flared to life in his hands. Not the deep red of a Sith’s fury, but twin blades of green and blue fire.

The blades pulsed, not steady Jedi sabers, but unstable, flickering, crackling like they were forged from torn kyber and memory. Part dream, part nightmare.

Josh’s breath caught. A ripple of confusion and longing hit him like a shockwave. That was the Tyler he wanted to believe in. A balanced, Jedi, lit from within.

Tyler tilted his head, the light casting angular shadows across his face. His expression was unreadable. Part grief, part triumph. And then he smiled. Not warmly, not kindly. A slow, curling smirk like a holocron whispering secrets best left buried.

“I have you right where I want you,” he murmured. His voice wasn’t his own, it rang with echoes, voices layered beneath like chorus lines of Sith and Jedi long dead.

The sabers spun in Tyler’s grip, a flourish both mesmerizing and menacing. Form IV, Ataru, all corrupted, refracted through a darker lens.

The Force shattered.

Josh gasped as the vision splintered like struck transparisteel, the fragments slicing through his awareness. The alien stars fell away, the sabers extinguished in smoke, and he was back. Pressed against Tyler, heart hammering, mouth open as if surfacing from drowning.

The heat of Tyler’s kiss still lingered, but everything felt changed. The warmth now shadowed by that glimpse of what could be, what might already live inside Tyler.

The Force hummed around them, unsettled. Restless. It crackled like static between two wires too close to touch but already arcing. The echo of that laugh clung to Josh’s senses, wrapping around his thoughts like smoke he couldn’t breathe past.

And buried beneath it, deep in his core, the vision’s afterimage refused to fade: Tyler, cloaked in power, wielding light like a weapon. Like something stolen and twisted.

Green and blue sabers should’ve meant peace, justice, the path of the Jedi. But in Tyler’s hands, they had flickered like illusions. False promises. Lies painted in familiar colors.

Then everything snapped into place. The pieces he had ignored, downplayed, wanted to overlook, now fell together like a cruel puzzle closing around his mind.

The way Tyler had looked at him from the beginning. Not just with interest, but intent.

The way he spoke. Cruel, careful, always skirting around vulnerability with just enough charm to disarm Josh's defenses.

The way he touched. Forceful, but precise, as if mapping out weak spots.

The vision hadn’t come from nowhere. Tyler had projected it. Not a memory. Not a fantasy. A weapon.

Josh’s breath hitched, chest rising in uneven, ragged bursts. The realization burned through him like a lightsaber dragged through durasteel.

This, this was how Tyler wanted him to fall. Not by saber-locks or battle cries. Not with fury or fire.

But by erosion.

By desire.

By offering him everything he was never allowed to want.

The Jedi taught him to let go of attachments. To master emotion, not succumb to it. But Tyler had twisted that, offering affection as a slow poison, murmuring comfort while pulling him inch by inch from the light. He hadn’t just touched Josh’s body, he had infiltrated his mind.

Tyler had studied him. Known exactly where to press. And Josh, he’d wanted it. That was the worst part.

Tyler’s gaze lingered for a breath longer, lips parted like he was about to speak or command. His eyes glittered with something too confident, too satisfied. Like he’d already seen the outcome and was simply watching Josh catch up.

He leaned in again, gaze heavy with promise, his mouth curving like he’d already won.

Josh shoved him back.

Hard.

Tyler fell onto the cot with a surprised grunt, the impact soft but jarring. For a flicker, just an instant, his expression cracked: surprise… followed by something like triumph.

The realization made Josh recoil like he’d been burned.

“W-What am I doing?” he choked out. “You’re...you’re in my head. Get out. Get away from me! ”

His voice cracked like a stressed hull, thick with horror and shame that scraped raw against the back of his throat. The words felt foreign in his mouth, like they belonged to someone else. Someone less weak.

He staggered back, legs trembling, vision swimming. It was like the tent wasn’t real anymore, like the walls were too close, like the air was thick with residual Force energy. His skin crawled where Tyler’s hands had been, as if the contact had branded him.

The vision still clung to his thoughts, sticky and suffocating. Tyler wielding sabers the Jedi should have claimed. Tyler smiling with the certainty of someone who knew Josh would break.

The feeling wasn’t gone. It lingered. Just like the dark side always did. 

Josh turned, nearly tripping over his own feet as he reached the tent flap and tore it open. Cold air blasted his bare chest, and for a second it was like he could breathe again. The chill stung his sweat-slick skin, sharp and purifying. 

He stumbled outside, boots crunching on wet grass and soil. The vast night sky spread above him. Swollen moons, stars scattered like broken crystal, nebulas pulsing in distant colors.

His breaths came faster, shallow and panicked. Each inhale scraped against his throat like sand, and the air no longer felt like oxygen. It was suffocating, thick with shame and smoke. Tears welled unbidden in his eyes, blurring the stars above into streaks of distant, indifferent fire.

He staggered back, the grass cold and slick beneath his feet, the weight of his failure slamming into him like a kinetic blast. The Force roiled around him, violent and wild, mirroring the chaos in his mind. Not the steady stream he’d known since he was a child, but a churning ocean, its currents jagged and unpredictable.

His hands clenched at his sides, knuckles white.

This is what he wanted. This is what he planned.

To make Josh fall, to make him his.

What would the Council say? What would Master Keons think? What would any of them see if they looked at him now?

He had betrayed everything: his discipline, his purpose, his restraint.

And worst of all, he hadn’t fallen in battle. He hadn’t been bested by power, or tortured into weakness.

He’d wanted.

The realization seared through him like a blade of pure red energy.

His nails dug deep into his palms, drawing tiny crescents of blood. He needed the pain. Needed something to ground him. To hold together the pieces of a self that felt like it was fracturing apart.

The chill of the night bit at his bare skin, but it wasn’t enough. Not to cool the shame that scorched beneath. Not to scrub away the phantom touch of Tyler’s hands, or the vision of those twin sabers. Green and blue, yes, but wielded with malice.

What kind of Jedi am I if I fall so easily?

The question echoed like a hollow drumbeat, over and over, reverberating through the hollowed-out space where his certainty used to be. Doubt coiled tight in his chest, like a serpent. Poisonous, squeezing, and suffocating.

Then, the tent flap rustled behind him.

Josh froze.

Tyler stepped into the moonlight like a specter born of shadow and desire. His silhouette cut against the night. Tall, sure, cloaked in the confidence of someone who already knew he’d won.

He moved with that same predator’s grace that always put Josh on edge. Each motion fluid, economical, quiet as a shadow-cat stalking prey. He wiped his hands lazily on his trousers, like brushing away crumbs from a feast. Like none of it had meant anything.

Twin sabers hung at his belt, their hilts glinting in the low light. Not ignited, but not forgotten. 

Tyler’s gaze swept over him, shirtless, trembling, wide-eyed with panic, and something wicked gleamed in his eyes.

Josh’s breath spiked. His pulse thundered in his ears, so loud he thought the Force itself might be vibrating with it. He took an unsteady step back.

“I said get away from me.” His voice was a snarl, but brittle, cracked with emotion. “Stay back. ”

Tyler’s lips curled slowly, like a sarlacc uncoiling in the depths. Mocking amusement danced in his eyes.

“What changed, Padawan?” he asked, and the word wasn’t a title, it was a blade. Sharp and gleaming with mockery.

He stepped forward. Then again. His boots whispering against the earth. Like he didn’t fear Josh would flee. Like he knew he wouldn’t.

“For a moment there…” Tyler’s voice dropped, silky and amused, “it was like looking in a mirror.”

Josh shook his head violently, as if to clear the vision, the voice, the truth.

“That’s...that’s not true,” he breathed. “I-I...you tricked me.” His voice trembled under the weight of betrayal. Of his own stupidity. Of the darkness he’d let into his mind and called it warmth.

Tyler laughed. Not loud. Not cruel. Just dark. A sound that slithered beneath Josh’s skin.

He began to pace. Slow. Deliberate. Circling Josh like a bounty hunter eyeing a wounded target.

The Force fell still, tense like a drawn bowstring. Even the night seemed to hold its breath.

“Really? Me? ” Tyler teased, voice syrup-thick and deadly. “I would neverrrrr. ” He dragged the word out like a blade across stone. “You did this, Joshua. You reached. You wanted. I just… helped you find the door.”

His gaze burned as he stepped closer.

Josh turned with him, refusing to let Tyler out of his sight. His back stayed square. Every muscle coiled tight, instinct overriding exhaustion.

He could feel the dark side still clinging to him. Like tar on his skin. Like smoke in his lungs. It didn’t fade. It hungered.

Tyler stopped. His smirk widened, all teeth and shadow.

“I almost had you,” he whispered. “Completely. Fully. In one day.”

His voice was drenched in satisfaction, thick with power. Like he’d cracked a kyber crystal just to hear it scream.

“Isn’t that marvelous?”

Josh’s heart thundered. The air between them sparked, charged with memory and madness. With temptation. With choice.

He stood trembling at the precipice, staring into the abyss Tyler offered. And Tyler relished it.

Then, pain.

Invisible fingers coiled around his throat. Josh’s eyes widened in shock as his breath was suddenly strangled, yanked from his lungs by an unseen hand. His feet skidded back in the dirt, boots dragging, the Force pressing down like durasteel clamps.

Tyler’s hand was raised, steady and poised, his expression unreadable. Only the gleam in his eyes betrayed the thrill. The high.

“You let me in,” Tyler said calmly, as if explaining something inevitable. “You let this happen. That makes you just like me.”

Josh’s hands clawed at his neck, a useless reflex. The pressure mounted until he thought his spine would snap. But somewhere beneath the pain… the fire returned.

The Force answered.

A pulse rippled outward from his core. Josh reached for it with everything he had. No control. No focus. Just will.

His hand shot out and Tyler choked.

He staggered back, one foot sliding in the dirt, as Josh’s invisible grip slammed into his throat like a durasteel clamp. His smirk faltered. His eyes flared.

Josh’s vision blurred with rage and tears as he poured every ounce of his pain into the hold, matching Tyler’s brutality with his own. Both their arms were outstretched now, mirrored and trembling, each a conduit for raw, unfiltered hatred.

The Force cracked between them like lightning. Twisting currents of light and shadow, warping the very air. The grass around them flattened from the pressure, tents rustled violently, and the night itself seemed to recoil.

Neither of them said a word. They didn’t need to.

The Force howled through them, into them, against them. For a long, endless moment, they were nothing but fury. Two storms locked in place, caught in their own reflection.

And then, Josh faltered.

His arm dropped, chest heaving, his mind finally registering the horror of what he was doing.

I’m trying to kill him. This is not the Jedi way.

Tyler dropped next. His hand fell limp at his side as he stumbled forward, coughing once, sharp and painful, but laced with bitter laughter.

“God, you just love choking me tonight,” he rasped.

Josh staggered back, heart still hammering, every nerve in his body on fire. The moment hung between them like a blade suspended in air. 

They were no longer predator and prey. Just two broken things, each holding up a mirror the other didn’t want to see.

But Josh wasn’t finished.

He thrust out a hand, summoning his lightsaber from where it lay inside the tent. The hilt leapt through the air, spinning cleanly into his grip with a snap.

With a sharp click-hiss, the blade ignited. Brilliant blue. Pure, defiant, and shaking slightly with the hand that held it.

Josh raised the saber. His body coiled and low, the blade angled forward, his eyes fixed and burning.

Across from him, Tyler straightened. Wiping a trace of blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. Slowly, deliberately, he unclipped both hilts from his belt.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t smile.

He just ignited both sabers. 

The red flared against the night, casting his face in bloody light, illuminating the sharp lines of someone who had chosen the abyss.

The hum of their sabers filled the silence, each note singing of history and loss and unspoken pain.

They stood there. Blue against red, light against dark, breathless, broken.

Waiting for one of them to move.

Waiting to see who would fall first.

And it was Tyler.

With a predator’s precision, he lunged. Both crimson blades flared wide, one high, one sweeping low, forcing Josh into a swift backward dodge. Their sabers collided with a shriek of plasma and sparks, the first clash exploding between them like a thunderclap.

Josh moved instinctively, falling into Form IV’s fluid counters. Spinning, pivoting, letting the Force carry his momentum like wind through leaves. But Tyler was relentless. His twin sabers were merciless, a whirlwind of crimson arcs, Form VII in pure expression: Juyo. Vicious, unpredictable, and hungry.

They fought in silence at first, boots scarring the ground, breath ragged, the night alive with light and fury.

And then, Josh saw it. The mark on Tyler’s neck, dark and fresh. A hickey. His hickey. His focus wavered for a fraction of a second, just long enough.

Tyler’s blade came dangerously close, grazing Josh’s bicep. He hissed, pivoting hard, swinging wide to force space between them. But the image lingered.

Tyler noticed the hesitation and smiled.

“Really, Jedi?” he taunted between breaths, blade angled with lazy menace. “You’re going to fight me with that look in your eyes? Don’t pretend you didn’t want it.”

Josh gritted his teeth and struck again. High, fast and clean. But Tyler caught it with one saber and brought the second down with punishing force, slamming it against Josh’s defense until he staggered back.

And then Tyler saw them.

His gaze flicked down and caught the edges of violet blooming low on Josh’s abdomen, creeping up his neck beneath his collarbone. Hickeys. His hickeys.

Tyler laughed.

“Oh,” he said, almost breathless, “this is deliciously pathetic.”

Their sabers locked again. Blue and red sizzling in a white-hot X between them, faces inches apart.

“We were all over each other five minutes ago,” Tyler sneered, voice rough from the lingering bruises around his throat. “I was inside your mind. Inside you. And now you want to kill me? Over what, shame? That’s what you’re wielding the Jedi Code for now?”

Josh’s jaw clenched.

“You used me.”

“I told you I would.” Tyler twisted one saber to try and wrench Josh’s blade away, but Josh broke the lock and spun low, coming up behind with a clean strike that Tyler just barely blocked.

The fight blurred. Each move faster, more desperate, more personal. Their breath came in harsh bursts. Not a battle of ideology, not Jedi versus Sith. Them. Their touch. Their kiss. Their marks burned into each other’s skin like brands.

“I should’ve killed you the first night,” Josh spat, sweat dripping down his brow as he pressed forward, saber flashing in a desperate upward arc.

Tyler leaned in mid-parry, eyes wild.

“But you didn’t. You wanted me.”

Another flurry of blows. Josh’s blade a streak of blue fury, Tyler’s a crimson storm. Dust flew from the earth. A tree branch overhead cracked and splintered under stray strikes. The Force rippled and shuddered, dragged into their orbit like a tide pulled by twin moons.

Josh shoved Tyler back with a Force push, harder than intended. Tyler hit the ground with a grunt, one saber skidding just out of reach.

He didn’t rush to retrieve it.

He just sat there, grinning up at Josh from the dirt, chest heaving.

“Look at us,” he said, voice full of mockery, but not devoid of something… darker. “The scars still fresh. Our hickeys still warm. And you think this ends in one of us winning?”

Josh stood over him, blade ignited, hands shaking, sweat and dirt streaking his face, then lunged.

Tyler was ready. He leapt up, dirt smeared on his legs. The red blade came up in a vicious arc, but Josh ducked beneath it, pivoted on his heel, and slammed the hilt of his saber against Tyler’s wrist. The weapon flew from Tyler’s hand and hit the ground with a dull thud, deactivating on impact. 

Josh didn’t let up. He swept in again, knocked the second saber from Tyler’s other hand with a flick of his wrist and a precise, controlled burst of the Force.

Tyler skidded backward across the mud, weaponless, breath ragged. His eyes flicked to his sabers, both out of reach.

Josh raised his blade and pointed it directly at Tyler’s chest.

“It’s over,” he said. “Stop.”

But Tyler… laughed. Of course he did.

He surged forward in a blur of motion. Spinning low, ducking beneath Josh’s saber, flipping over him in one fluid movement. Josh turned fast, but not fast enough. Tyler landed, tucked, and rolled, grabbing one of the red sabers and igniting it mid-motion.

The crimson blade hissed to life once more.

“Joshua, this is getting so repetitive,” Tyler drawled, voice crackling with dark delight. “Kiss, fight, kiss, fight. Are we stuck in a holo-drama or are you just that conflicted?”

Josh’s jaw clenched. He came at him again. Faster, harder, no hesitation this time.

Their sabers clashed once more in a screech of light and fury. But Josh moved differently now. Less cautious, more brutal. With one clean strike, he nicked Tyler’s thigh enough to burn, to make him stumble.

Tyler let out a sharp snarl, eyes flashing.

“Careful,” he hissed through gritted teeth. 

Josh’s face twisted, fury boiling up in his throat.

“I don’t want your hands on me. Not ever again.”

Tyler faltered. A stumble in his aura. A crack in the darkness. His saber dipped an inch. His smirk twitched, like it might collapse under the weight of something deeper.

Josh didn’t hesitate. Blue light surged forward again, driving Tyler back, each strike echoing with clarity, with rage, with refusal.

“I don’t want your lips,” Josh spat, slicing the air. “I don’t want your voice in my head. I don’t want your touch, your manipulation. Any of it.”

Their blades locked again, red and blue grinding against each other with a screech of power. Sparks danced between them. Tyler’s teeth bared, snarling, his mask of confidence fracturing with every passing second.

“You wanted all of it,” he snapped, voice strained. “You still do.”

Josh’s saber hovered, searing inches from his cheek. He could see the flicker of the flame in Tyler’s eyes.

“I did.” Josh’s voice was quiet now, ragged. But sure. “But now I see you for what you are.”

He shoved.

Tyler stumbled back, and Josh didn’t follow. The tension stretched, taut as a garrote, the Force groaning between them like a temple under siege.

Tyler’s chest heaved. The smirk was gone. Something colder took its place.

Then, he lunged again.

The red saber came fast, a downward arc of hate and heat. Josh blocked, barely, the collision slamming down his arms. Tyler twisted. Dirty, brutal and fast. He swept the saber sideways in a cruel angle just enough to slide past Josh’s guard.

The tip of the red blade kissed across Josh’s face.

He screamed as the heat seared across the bridge of his nose, slicing a shallow, brutal line, a twin to the scar carved into Tyler’s own nose.

Josh stumbled back, one hand flying to his face, the other keeping his saber raised. Blood ran down into his mouth. The pain was white-hot and blinding.

Tyler stood over him, grinning again.

“There,” he breathed, voice velvet and poison. “Now it truly is like looking in a mirror.”

Josh’s lip curled. He spat right into Tyler’s chest.

“Fuck. You.” 

Tyler looked down at the spit on his chest, then up again, his laughter peeled out of him, low, wicked, almost joyful. It echoed in the trees, around the tent, into the broken silence of the aftermath.

“You see?” he crooned, voice like smoke curling around fire. “We’re back to the same rhythm. Kiss, fight, push, pull. God, it’s poetic.”

He tilted his head, studying Josh with theatrical fascination.

“Tell me. Do you shove me away because you hate me, or because you hate how much you want to come back?”

Josh’s hands trembled at his sides, saber still ignited, its blue glow staining the dirt between them. Blood ran warm down his face, the scar burning fresh. But it was nothing compared to the ache in his chest.

He gritted his teeth.

“I’m done with this.”

Tyler arched a brow.

“I’m going to focus on my mission,” Josh went on, voice steadier now. “I’m going to meditate. I’m going to return to the light.” His grip on the hilt tightened. “And I’m going to save you, whether you want it or not.”

Tyler gave a slow, theatrical sigh, brushing a hand across the bruise already blooming at his jaw.

“Ah, the noble Jedi,” he purred. “You still think you get to be the one who fixes this. That your light is a leash I’ll follow like a lost pet.”

He stepped forward just one pace, red saber casting its vicious glow across his face.

“Oh, Joshua,” Tyler whispered, voice intimate, sharp. “Still clinging to that righteous indignation like it’ll save you.” His grin returned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You can’t bring me to the light. You never could.”

Josh’s saber burned brightly , bathing his blood-streaked face in pale blue. His eyes met Tyler’s, and this time, they didn’t flinch. He took a single step forward, like anchoring himself in the truth.

“Only a Sith deals in absolutes.”

Tyler paused, just for a breath.

Josh inhaled shakily.

“Maybe you really are lost.”

For the first time, Tyler didn’t laugh. He didn’t smile. He just stared. Quiet. Empty. The heat in his face gone, the fury dimmed to a low, burning coal.

His saber lowered slightly, not as surrender, but as… acknowledgement. A flicker of something ancient crossed his face. Sadness, maybe. Regret. Or just the illusion of it.

He took one slow step back, then another, eyes locked with Josh’s. No fear. No hesitation.

Then he smiled. That same sharp, devastating smile.

“Save yourself first,” he said, voice calm and cruel, as if it were inevitable. “You’re a lot closer to falling than you think.”

Chapter Text

Morning had come quickly, slipping through the dissipating clouds like a blade of light. Josh had barely slept. Not after what had happened with Tyler.

He’d lain there, half-awake, cold sweat drying on his skin as he stared up into the fabric of the tent’s ceiling. His mind spiraling. Every snapped twig outside had sent his nerves jolting. Every gust of wind had sounded like Tyler’s voice, wrapping around his thoughts like a snare. He wasn’t sure what terrified him more. That Tyler would return and strike again, or that he wouldn’t, and would leave Josh alone with what had happened…with what they had done.

Now he stood outside the tent, fully dressed. His cloak was slung over his shoulders once more, damp around the hem but manageable now that the rain had finally broken sometime during the night. The morning air was sharp, tinged with ash and smoke from the dying fire.

He took a final sip from the steaming bowl cupped in his hands. Rootleaf stew, the same recipe his Master had once cooked. Earthy, bitter, spiced just enough to keep him grounded. Josh had learned it from an old temple holocron, back before everything fractured.

The warmth of the broth did little to settle him.

He set the dented metal bowl atop a supply crate, its surface still wet from the rain. It clinked faintly against the durasteel, and the sound echoed too loud in the quiet clearing. His hands trembled slightly as he wiped them on his cloak.

Josh began to pace the edges of the camp, boots squelching against the softened ground. His eyes swept over everything. The tent, crates, gear, even the tree line. He scanned for any disturbance, any sign that Tyler had crept back in during the night.

But the camp was undisturbed. Still.

Until he passed a large, smooth crate near the perimeter. The metal caught the early light, casting a distorted reflection across its rippling surface. He paused.

His reflection stared back at him, twisted by the warped panel but unmistakably his. And there, vivid even in the skewed mirror, was the hickey painted on the side of his neck. A smear of bruised skin that darkened beneath his collar.

Josh’s breath hitched. Shame rose like bile.

His fingers brushed the mark gently, as if trying to wipe it away. The pressure sparked a dull ache, making him wince. The sight of it filled him with something hollow and sick. That mark wasn’t just a mistake. It was a scarlet symbol of weakness. Of temptation.

Of the Sith.

He gritted his teeth and tilted his head slightly, examining the rest of his face in the crude mirror. 

A thick, healing wound slashed across the bridge of his nose. His hand hovered above it, fingers flexing but refusing to touch. It mirrored Tyler’s perfectly, a twisted brand that bound them in something he didn’t want to name. It would scar. He could feel it. He could heal it, if he tried.

But he wouldn’t.

To dip into the Force now, even to heal, terrified him. It felt tainted. Every instinct screamed that he had betrayed what he was taught. That to use it now, even with good intent, would pull him further into that murky place where Tyler waited with a smirk and a blade and burning eyes.

Josh dropped his hand. His shoulders slumped.

The stew settled like a stone in his stomach.

Josh looked away from his warped reflection on the crate, his breath leaving a faint cloud in the chilled morning air. Everything felt too quiet, too still, like the calm before a storm. He didn’t know what to do next. He should know. He was trained to know.

Tyler seemed so far out of reach. Shrouded in shadow and anger, wrapped in a Force signature that crackled and pulsed like raw kyber. And Josh’s mission… it had been clear. Bring him back to the light.

Or kill him.

And now, by the second day, the latter felt closer. Tangible. Like a weight in his palm he’d already started to measure.

He turned on his heel, cloak whispering behind him in a soft swoosh of soaked fabric. His boots squelched against damp soil as he moved back toward the tent. He needed to think. To meditate. To reach out to Keons. If anyone could ground him, it was him. He ducked inside the tent, knelt by his pack, and unclipped his lightsaber from its cradle.

The hilt felt heavier than it should.

A part of him resisted. As if just touching it made the moment more real. But he clipped it to his belt anyway, a reflex. Just in case.

Josh pushed back the flap of the tent and stepped out again, turning toward the ridge path that led to a small clearing. One he'd used the night before to meditate. The ground sloped gently toward a shallow pond rimmed with glistening rocks, its surface disturbed only by the occasional breeze.

He didn’t make it far.

Because there, perched on a flat slab of stone just at the edge of the deeper water, sat Tyler.

His back was turned to the tent. Shoulders slightly hunched. Head bowed. For once, his silhouette didn’t look threatening. It wasn’t that his strength had faded. It was still there, coiled and ready but, something had dulled. The harsh lines of his frame seemed softened by the silence, like the Force itself had pressed pause.

He looked smaller. Not weak. But… human.

Josh’s breath caught in his throat. His hand flew instinctively to his saber, thumb resting on the ignition. But he didn’t draw. Not yet.

Tyler hadn’t noticed him.

Or… maybe he had. And just didn’t care.

Josh froze, watching.

Tyler’s hand reached forward, dipping into the still water. He scooped a handful and slowly raised it to his neck, rinsing the bruises left behind from their clash. Marks in angry shades of red and purple that wound down his jaw and collar. The water dripped from his fingers in quiet trails.

There was no drama in the motion. No vanity. Just the practical rhythm of someone who had always tended to his own wounds, probably since he was a child. The kind of care that came not from indulgence, but necessity.

Josh could almost feel the sting of the cold water himself. The bruises he had caused. With his mouth. With his hands.

The hilt of the saber dug into his hip like a rebuke.

Then, movement. A ripple in the water near the rock.

Josh’s eyes tracked it instantly out of instinct. Something small breached the surface. A green amphibipod, no larger than a ration bar, blinked up from the edge of the pond. A local species, common on temperate mid-rim moons like this one. Pale green, skin mottled with gold specks. The creature gave a tentative hop, landing on a mossy patch just inches from Tyler’s boot.

Tyler looked down. For a moment, Josh expected him to flick it away. To destroy it without thought.

But instead, Tyler just stared.

And then, gently, he reached out with wet fingers and brushed the top of the frog’s head.

Josh blinked.

It wasn’t a smirk. Not even one of his signature, slow-burning smiles. Just the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. The kind of softness that was real because it wasn’t trying to be anything else.

He said something, too low for Josh to hear. His voice, even from this distance, cracked like splintered stone, hoarse from the bruising along his throat. But his expression, his eyes, carried more than words ever could. Distant. Distracted. Maybe even… wistful.

Josh stood motionless, rooted in place by the weight of it.

This wasn’t the Sith who had thrown him into a tree. Not the predator who had taunted him in the dark, who had clawed through Josh’s shields and kissed him like a challenge. This was someone else. Someone still alive inside that tangled shadow.

Someone who could be saved.

And that scared Josh more than anything else.

Because he wasn’t sure he’d be strong enough to try.

Josh let go of the hilt, the weight of the saber pulling at his belt as he exhaled. He stepped forward deliberately, boots breaking the silence as they splashed through the shallow edges of the water. He didn’t bother masking the sound.

If Tyler was going to react, let it be now.

“You’re loud, Jedi,” Tyler rasped without turning, his voice frayed and raw. It wasn’t just hoarse. It was damaged. His vocal cords were likely bruised, if not torn slightly, from how hard Josh’s hand had clenched around his throat.

“I meant to be,” Josh replied, tone unreadable. Not warm, not cold. Just… present.

Tyler shook his head once and inhaled sharply, as if gathering what was left of himself. With visible effort, he shifted into a cross-legged position on the stone beneath him. His back remained straight, the posture rigid but practiced. Meditative. Familiar.

“Are you meditating?” Josh asked, tilting his head.

“What does it look like?” Tyler spit, sarcasm threading through his voice like barbed wire.

Josh stepped closer, stopping just where the water shallowed into slick stones. His boots found leverage beneath the surface as he stood beside the rock.

“Where did you go last night?”

Tyler let out something that might’ve been a laugh, cut short by a violent, sudden cough. He hunched forward, bringing a hand to his mouth. When he pulled it back, blood shone red across his fingers, stark against his skin.

Josh winced, his stomach twisting. The pain was his doing. That blood… his fault.

Tyler saw it, saw the guilt flash across Josh’s face like lightning.

“Excuse me,” he muttered, his voice more bitter than before. He wiped his hand onto the dark fabric of his thigh, leaving a smear of crimson across the coarse weave of his pants. “I walked around,” he said finally. Dismissive. Guarded.

Josh gave a short nod, eyes flicking over the mist-shrouded trees around them. Swamp vapors rose faintly in the early light, curling like ghosts over the stagnant water. Somewhere in the distance, a guala-bird trilled its low, throaty call. A species native to Dagobah and other wet-worlds, heralds of rain or danger.

“Did you sleep?”

Tyler exhaled sharply through his nose, clearly irritated. His eyes remained shut, but the muscles in his jaw twitched.

“Do you always ask this many questions to someone you tried to kill?”

Josh’s brows furrowed.

“I didn’t try to kill you, Tyler.”

Tyler scoffed at that. A dry, joyless sound. He finally opened his eyes, tilting his head up to meet Josh’s.

There was no fire in them now. Just exhaustion. And hurt, coiled behind the gold flicker of his irises like a splinter.

“The painting on my neck says otherwise,” he said, voice low and acidic, gesturing faintly to the bruises that spread like ink down the sides of his throat.

Josh didn’t have a response.

Because it looked like he had tried to kill him. Because the line between what was a fight and what was something else entirely had blurred so violently the night before.

And Tyler’s bruises weren’t just reminders. They were confessions. Ones Josh hadn’t meant to write, but had written all the same.

Josh lowered his gaze, shoulders slack with guilt, unable to hold Tyler’s stare under the weight of what he felt.

“I apologize,” he said quietly. It came out small, almost fragile against the morning air.

“Whatever, Padawan,” Tyler sneered, the word soaked in sarcasm. He inhaled again, slow and pained, as if it hurt just to breathe. “Did you sleep?”

Josh blinked, thrown by the question.

“Uh… not really, no.”

Tyler’s brows knit together slightly, his eyes drifting closed again.

“Even after I basically tucked you in?”

Josh stared.

“You sliced my nose open.”

“Tucked in, injured you with a lightsaber. Same thing if you squeeze your eyes hard enough,” Tyler rasped with a hoarse laugh, one that cracked halfway through and made him wince. Pain lanced across his features, and for a moment, he looked like he might fold in on himself.

“I can heal that,” Josh offered, more gently this time, his gaze drifting toward the bruises and the tension tightening Tyler’s throat and shoulders.

Tyler cracked an eye open.

“I thought you said we were done touching?”

“Well, yes. I did. But I meant-”

“You meant intimately,” Tyler interrupted, one brow rising. “However, you wrapping your hands around my throat to heal me does sound pretty enticing.”

His voice had dipped, teasing and broken in the same breath. His red-rimmed irises glinted beneath heavy lids, locking onto Josh’s with a heat that had nothing to do with the Force.

Josh’s mouth parted but no words came. His thoughts scattered, all of them crashing into each other at once.

“I...nevermind,” he muttered, blinking hard and glancing away, ears turning slightly pink.

Tyler chuckled again, but this time it was quieter. Thinner. A ghost of his usual venom.

Josh didn’t move. He just stood there, ankle-deep in the cool water, torn between the instinct to reach out and the fear that it would only make things worse.

“Are you going to let me meditate,” Tyler muttered, “or just keep bothering me?”

Josh felt the faintest pull of a smirk. He quickly swallowed it, smoothing his expression.

“Could I meditate with you?”

Tyler barked a laugh, an actual laugh, sharp and hoarse and entirely unexpected. His crooked teeth flashed as he doubled over slightly, shoulders shaking with genuine amusement.

Josh smiled faintly, caught off guard by the sound. Until the laugh turned. The coughing started again, deeper this time. Raw. Uncontrollable.

Tyler hunched forward violently, a hand clutching at his chest as the spasms racked his body. Blood sprayed into the water below in bursts, staining the ripples red and dark as it flecked the moss-covered rock.

Then his balance faltered. He swayed, lightheaded, tipping forward.

Josh dropped to a crouch, one hand catching Tyler’s shoulder, the other pressing flat against his chest, firm and steady. 

The touch was immediate. Electric. A current surged through the contact point, a crackle in the Force that ignited between them like flint catching flame.

Tyler’s eyes shot open. Glowing. Feral.

He stared at Josh, chest still heaving, then slowly reached up and peeled Josh’s hand from his body with two fingers like it was poison.

Josh stood quickly, withdrawing without a word. The air suddenly felt too sharp, too loud. He wasn’t sure why he’d reached out at all. Only that guilt had overridden his common sense. But… was it guilt? Or something else?

Either way, the pain Tyler was in. He had caused that.

And wasn’t that what the Sith deserved?

Josh clenched his jaw and looked out over the swamp. The mist curled around the roots of the gnarled trees, thick with the scent of decay and life all at once. The hum of insects, the distant warble of a swamp predator, the faint vibration of the world beneath them. It all blurred into white noise.

Behind him, Tyler’s breathing began to slow. Raspy. Controlled.

Then, rough and quiet: “Come.”

Josh turned. Tyler hadn’t looked at him, but the invitation was real. Tentative. Like the edge of a truce.

Josh nodded once and stepped forward, settling onto a flat stone a few feet away. He crossed his legs and rested his hands on his knees, grounding himself. The breath that left his lungs came slowly, purposefully.

He let go.

The world softened.

The Force moved like mist around him, drifting in and out of perception. Faint at first. Then heavier. Warmer.

Across from him, Tyler lowered his head and slipped into the same stillness. And without conscious thought, the bond between them opened.

Not a mind meld. Not yet.

But the Force flowed, intertwining, as if it recognized some truth between them that neither of them wanted to say out loud.

Josh tried to pull from Tyler, wanting to speak to his Master, not wanting to be pulled into Tyler’s mind tricks. 

Tyler did the opposite. He saw the moment as an opportunity to ensnare Josh, to show him the Dark side’s power once again. 

However, the Force had different plans. 

The air around them thickened like smoke and the world tilted.

Their bodies slipped from the physical realm, their consciousnesses pulled like threads unraveling in the wind. It was like dreaming but far more visceral. Their spirits were flung elsewhere, tethered by the Force and nothing more.

Josh’s eyes opened. But he wasn’t on Dagobah anymore.

Ash drifted down from the blackened sky, the scent of scorched metal and fuel thick in the air. The landscape was jagged and industrial. Raxus Prime. A graveyard of broken droids, ruined ships, and rusted metal towers stretching into the choking smog above. The hum of magnetic fields buzzed in the distance, pulsing like a heartbeat.

He turned his head at the sound of a clang from nearby. An alleyway between collapsed walls of scrap and debris. He moved toward it, hand sliding to the hilt of his saber, nerves taut.

Then, he felt it.

A hand on his arm.

Josh spun instinctively, ready to draw, only to freeze when he saw Tyler.

But this wasn’t the Tyler he knew. There was no mockery in his eyes. No smug cruelty. Instead, they were wide. Fearful. Haunted.

“Tyler?” Josh asked quietly.

A scream tore through the stillness from the alley.

Josh jerked away from the Sith and sprinted forward. He turned the corner and skidded to a stop.

A boy stood there. Young. Maybe nine or ten. His hair was dark brown, his face smudged with soot, eyes huge and filled with fear. But there was something else behind that fear. Something simmering.

Before him stood a spice smuggler, towering and furious, slurring curses as he stumbled forward, a vibroknife glinting in his hand.

Josh opened his mouth too late.

The boy’s expression twisted. Fear became anger. Raw, unchecked. He tilted his head slightly. With a sickening crack, the man’s neck snapped.

Josh staggered backward, his hand flying to his saber in shock. The smuggler collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

The boy looked at the body. Then at Josh. Like he was curious. Like he knew him.

Josh ignited his lightsaber instinctively, the brilliant blue casting light across the boy’s face. He didn’t flinch. He just stared. Quiet. Steady.

And then...

“Stop.”

A voice from behind. Low. Familiar.

Josh turned his head sharply.

Tyler.

He stood several feet away, staring down at the dirt and metal, his voice steady but distant.

“This kid just killed someone without even touching him,” Josh snapped, gesturing with his saber. “Did you not just see that?”

The dark side pulsed around them, thick like oil. Josh couldn’t tell if it bled from Tyler, or the child, or both.

Tyler exhaled slowly, stepping forward. He brushed past Josh, their shoulders grazing, and Josh flinched at the contact.

“What are you-” Josh started, then stopped.

Tyler moved to the boy.

To himself.

The child stood there, watching the older version of himself approach. Wide-eyed. Waiting.

Josh’s stomach dropped.

“No. That’s…”

Josh’s voice faltered, dying on the edge of a breath. He stared between them, between the child and the man. The resemblance was unmistakable now, horrifying in its clarity.

Same sharp nose, same slope of the jaw. The curve of their brows was identical. But the boy, he was still unbroken. No scar marred his nose. No corruption in his gaze. His irises were a soft, earthy brown, not the unnatural red that burned in Tyler’s eyes now.

This was Tyler.

The same soul, just untouched by the galaxy’s cruelty. Not yet twisted by the dark.

Josh’s stomach turned. He stepped back, suddenly cold despite the heat radiating off the junk heaps around them. His mind raced. This wasn’t just a memory. It was a fracture in the Force, a vision born of meditation, and intimacy.

“This is the night,” Josh whispered, more to himself than anyone else. “The night everything changed for you.”

He looked again at the boy, staring up at the older version of himself with something like awe. Or confusion. Or even fear.

And then he looked at Tyler.

His face was unreadable. Masked in the practiced calm of someone who had told this story a hundred times, but never aloud. Never to another living soul. His red eyes didn’t move, fixed on the space where the child still stood.

Josh remembered the snap of the man’s neck. The way the body crumpled. The instinctive reaction of someone cornered, terrified, but still so powerful.

“You really killed a man,” Josh said softly, like saying it aloud made it more real. “This young?”

Tyler didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.

Josh swallowed.

“And that’s when they found you. The Sith.” His breath caught again.

This wasn’t just the night Tyler took a life. It was the night someone noticed. The night someone saw his power and reached for it.

A child, untrained, alone, afraid. With no Jedi to shield him. No master to guide his fear into focus. Just predators in the shadows, waiting to offer him purpose. Control. Revenge.

Josh’s hands shook slightly, the hilt of his saber still warm in his grip.

He looked at the boy again. So small, standing amid the rust and ash, completely unaware that he was standing at the edge of everything.

Then, back to Tyler. Who had crossed that edge and never looked back.

Tyler knelt suddenly, folding down to the boy’s height.

“You,” he said softly, voice light, airy. Almost affectionate. “You are the reason I am the way I am.” 

Josh’s heart beat faster. Confusion plaguing his features.

“If only you had let that smuggler kill you.” He said sing-songy, reaching out and tugging gently on the boy’s cheek, like a teasing older brother. He even smiled. And then...

Snap–hiss.

A red blade ignited.

It plunged straight through the boy’s chest.

Josh’s breath caught in his throat. He stumbled backward, deactivating his saber in horror as the child's form convulsed, then vanished, burned away into smoke.

“What did you-” Josh whispered, eyes wide.

But Tyler didn’t answer. He just stood there, staring at the empty spot where the child had been, face unreadable. No expression. No breath. Just stillness. Unnatural, like he was holding the galaxy still with sheer will alone.

Around them, the Force pulled tight, the energy bending low and heavy. The air grew cold, thick with a hush so total it swallowed the ambient noise of Raxus Prime. It was as if the Force itself had gone silent. Waiting.

Then, the world snapped.

The vision fractured like glass dropped in hyperspace, their souls sucked back into their physical forms in a sudden, violent surge. It felt like being ripped out of sleep mid-fall. Like drowning, then gasping for breath.

Josh jolted upright, his chest heaving, robes clinging to him with sweat. His pulse thundered in his ears.

Tyler remained seated on the rock, back still curved, his hands on his knees as if nothing had happened. A crooked grin tugged at the edge of his mouth.

Josh tilted his head, heart racing.

“Why did you… Why?”

His voice trembled, not with fear, but with the weight of what he’d just witnessed. The brutal symbolism of it. The little boy with Tyler’s face. The raw Force power. The quiet execution.

Tyler opened his eyes. They were brown.

“Thought I wouldn’t come back,” he said simply.

Josh felt like the swamp had tilted beneath him.

“W-what? You wanted to die.” The words tasted wrong. Heavy.

Tyler stood, his boots landing softly in the shallow edge of the pool with a muted splash. He stepped onto the soft, mossy ground, his movements precise. Too careful.

“Would you want to be me, Joshua?” he asked over his shoulder. His voice was unreadable. Half sarcasm, half something else. Something hollow.

Josh didn’t answer.

Tyler nodded, as if Josh’s silence was all the answer he needed. He winced slightly, pain still flaring in his neck from the damage Josh had inflicted the night before.

Josh stepped forward, the sound of his boots soft in the wet dirt.

“I’m sorry that happened to you, Tyler,” he said quietly, his hand reaching out, not for violence, but for connection. Comfort. Recognition.

Tyler didn’t move. But his eyes did.

They flickered, red for an instant, bright and unnatural, burning with rage, with fear, before bleeding into brown.

“I don’t…” he started, voice hollow, “I don’t need your pity, Jedi.” His words dripped with venom, but the cracks in his voice gave him away. He stepped back instinctively, like the darkness within him was yanking him by the spine. The leash of the Dark Side was taut.

Above them, a storm thickened. Rolling thunder pressing against the atmosphere like the weight of the galaxy itself. In the distance, the gnarled branches of Dagobah’s trees trembled, trembling with the echo of something ancient and angry.

Josh’s hand dropped back to his side, heavy with guilt.

“It’s not pity,” he said, quietly. “You should’ve had help. You should’ve been taken in by the Council. Trained. Protected.”

Tyler scoffed. A bitter, humorless thing.

“You don’t get it.” He stepped backward again, away from Josh, away from the Light. “I would’ve become this either way. It was my choice.”

Josh shook his head.

“That’s not true. If you had guidance, someone to teach you the right path-”

“That’s what I had!” Tyler shouted, louder this time, voice echoing against the twisted swamp. It startled a flock of birds into the sky, their wings slicing the clouds above. “I had guidance. I had a teacher. And look at me now.”

He gestured to his body like it was a scar. His tunic, dark and fraying at the edges. The scars beneath his clothes that whispered of torture and conditioning.

Josh’s brows drew together.

“You know that isn’t true. You had a manipulator. An owner. A Sith.”

Tyler laughed. Not because it was funny, but because it was pathetic.

“And you think Jedi Masters are different?”

Josh faltered. Just for a second. Because there was some truth in what he was saying. The Code. The chains. The way the Council decided what love was allowed, what pain could be spoken. How younglings were taken from cradles and raised in temples, not homes.

“No,” Josh muttered. “It’s not the same. You would've been safe.”

Tyler stepped forward, slow, dangerous.

“Look where being safe got you, Padawan.” His voice was sharp, almost amused. “You chose this safety for yourself. And you call it noble.”

Lightning cracked above them again, this time landing somewhere nearby. White-hot and blinding, turning the swamp a temporary blue.

Josh stood his ground.

“That’s not true. The Jedi protect the galaxy. We save people.”

“Oh, yes,” Tyler hissed. “Such valor. Such honor.”  Then his tone shifted, quieter. “Tell me something, Josh. If you can’t bring me back to the Light, will I be saved?” He tilted his head. A mimicry of innocence. But his eyes gave him away. They flickered red, then brown, then red again.

Josh felt the Force twist around them. Uncertain, trembling. He was losing him. Losing the real Tyler again.

“The Jedi only save those they deem worthy,” Tyler continued. “Those with… potential. Utility. A future. I was none of those things.”

“That’s not true-” Josh began.

“Then where were they?” Tyler’s voice cracked open, guttural, angry. “When I lifted objects without touching them at five years old? When I cried and the room shook? Where were your protectors then?”

His eyes flared again, fully red now. The color of kyber corrupted.

Josh moved toward him, arms half raised.

“Tyler, they tried. They sent search teams for Force-sensitives-”

Tyler’s hood dropped further over his face, shadows claiming what the Dark Side hadn’t already.

“That’s what they told you? The Council?”

Josh hesitated.

“They...they said they didn’t find you. That the Sith got there first. That they tried.”

Tyler chuckled low, a bitter growl in his throat.

“They lie to their golden boy. Their shining hope. Of course they do.”

Josh’s heart skipped a beat.

“They knew about me for years.” He stepped closer, his breath visible in the chilled air. “I showed Force sensitivity before most children could speak. Moved things. Heard thoughts. Saw dreams that weren’t mine. I was one of the youngest to show signs in recorded history. And what did they do?” He exhaled sharply. “Nothing. They left me.”

Josh felt the Force ripple, like the swamp itself recoiled from the weight of Tyler’s truth. And for a moment, he believed him.

“They were scared of me, Joshua,” Tyler said, the words low and bitter, barely audible beneath the rising wind. His crimson eyes flickered, just briefly, to brown beneath the canopy of his soaked hood. “They waited. Waited for me to mess up. For the anger to show. For something that didn’t align with their perfect Code. So they could cast me out. So they could send the Sith to collect what they didn’t want.”

Lightning arced behind him, illuminating the edges of his face like a jagged frame. Thunder cracked seconds later, the sound rolling through the ancient Dagobah swampland. Rain began to fall, light at first, then harder, pelting the muck and moss in a steady rhythm.

Josh shook his head.

“That’s not true.” His voice trembled, pleading more to himself than to Tyler. “You’re twisting things. They would never-”

“How do you think the Sith found me first?” Tyler asked, his voice sharp as a vibroblade. He tilted his head, just slightly, as another flash of lightning split the sky, casting the gleam of his wet, shadowed features in stark relief. “You genuinely think the all-seeing Jedi Order couldn’t find me, but the Sith could? Come on, Joshua. You’re smarter than that.”

Josh’s breathing hitched, the storm in his lungs rising to match the one around them. His heart hammered beneath his soaked tunic. Rain soaked through his robes, clinging to him like a second skin.

“You’re lying,” he said, voice trembling now. “You’re tricking me. Trying to divide me from the Order.”

Tyler’s smile was faint and hollow. He took another step forward. His eyes, now a deep, blood-red, seemed to glow in the dark.

“The Jedi left me to rot,” he growled.

“Liar!” Josh shouted, thrusting a hand forward.

The Force burst out of him instinctively, raw and violent. Tyler flew back with the impact, crashing into the water with a hiss of displaced vapor. His hood flew back from the blast, revealing rain-slicked hair clinging to his forehead, beneath his eyes, glistening streaks, not of rain, but…tears.

He caught himself with one hand in the shallows, panting. But when he looked back up, his expression had hardened to steel.

“I see through the lies of the Jedi,” Tyler shouted, voice steady and venomous. “Now you must do the same.”

Rain poured now in sheets.The Force vibrated around them, alive and tense, like a charged plasma coil on the verge of explosion.

Josh stepped back, chest heaving, vision blurring from both rain and emotion.

“Stop,” he begged, voice cracking. “Please.”

“This whole time,” Tyler continued, his voice now guttural, shaking with fury, “you’ve let the Jedi twist your mind, fill your head with rules and chains.”

He thrust out a hand. Josh lifted off the ground and slammed back into the shallows with a splash. His knee collided with a submerged rock. Pain flared up his leg like wildfire.

Josh grunted, teeth clenched, dragging himself to his feet. He winced as he reached for his belt, fingers brushing the cold metal of his saber.

Snap-hiss.

The blue blade erupted to life, casting a ghostly light across the rain-soaked water. The hilt hummed in his hands, buzzing with the tension of the moment.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Josh cried, his voice desperate. “You’re wrong.”

Tyler’s expression darkened. He stepped forward and unclipped the twin sabers from his belt. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he snapped them together. The red blades igniting on both ends with a feral hiss. The dual lightsaber spun once in his hand, catching droplets mid-air and burning them into steam.

“Who do you believe?” Tyler demanded. “The ones who fed you their gospel, who made you kneel for every ounce of worth you have, or the boy they threw away like garbage?” He spun the saber again, its hum low and deadly.

Josh couldn’t take it anymore. With a cry, equal parts grief and fury, he lunged, lightsaber raised.

Their sabers clashed with a scream of light and metal. Sparks flew in all directions, momentarily lighting the darkness around them brighter than the lightning above. The Force exploded outward from the impact, flattening reeds and sending ripples across the water.

“I won’t let you poison my mind anymore!” Josh yelled, bearing down with both hands.

But Tyler was stronger. Fueled by years of pain and betrayal, by the red fury of the Dark Side. He shoved Josh backward, sending him stumbling through the shallow water.

“Open your eyes, Jedi!” he roared. His crimson eyes glowed with rage and grief, echoing the tormented fury of fallen warriors before him. “We are the same. Forged on different sides of the same path! ”

“No!” Josh screamed, rushing him again.

Their blades clashed again and again, each strike more furious than the last. Tyler’s dual saber spun with a deadly rhythm, while Josh fought to keep up, parrying one side only to be forced back by the other.

“I was tortured,” Tyler shouted between swings. “Twisted into a weapon.”

Josh swung hard, eyes wet.

“And I was taught to save.”

Tyler raised his hand mid-strike, palm out. The Force exploded forward. Josh mirrored it instantly. The two of them froze, arms outstretched, waves of invisible energy clashing between them, sending sprays of water flying in all directions. The air shimmered and warped from the heat of their power colliding.

“Let go!” Tyler roared, his face soaked and contorted, hair matted against his temples.

Josh gritted his teeth, every muscle screaming.

“Never! ”

The Force boiled around them like a living storm, seething and snapping with raw power. Invisible currents howled between their outstretched hands, distorting the air, warping reality itself. Rain lashed down harder, the swamp around them trembling as though it, too, felt the gravity of what was unfolding.

Above, the sky split open. Lightning streaking from one end of the heavens to the other. Thunder boomed loud enough to shake the trees. The earth trembled, not from nature, but from the titanic push and pull of two souls locked in a collision course, fate grinding against fate.

“The Force showed you my past for a reason!” Tyler screamed, stepping forward, his voice hoarse and cracked from the strain. His cloak whipped in the storm, drenched and heavy, but he barely seemed to notice. “It doesn’t lie, Joshua and you know that! ”

Josh gritted his teeth, arms trembling with effort, his fingers splayed wide as he pressed against the torrent of Force energy radiating from Tyler’s soul. He could feel tears welling in his eyes, tears of pain, of fear, of something far deeper, but he fought them off. He had to. There was no room for weakness here. Only clarity.

“I saw you kill a man,” Josh roared back, straining forward, the Force vibrating against his skin like a scream. “I saw you choose darkness. I didn’t see anything about the Jedi lying! You’re trying to get inside my head!”

The pressure between them mounted like a star about to go supernova. Crackling, twisting, begging to be unleashed.

Tyler let out a strangled cry and hurled his saber to the ground. It hissed as it sank into the muck, its twin red blades sputtering out in a puff of steam and sizzling rot. Then he threw both hands forward, palms outstretched, pushing harder. Fury and grief pouring out of him like a dam breaking.

“If you can’t believe the truth right in front of you,” Tyler shouted, his voice raw, “then what kind of Jedi are you?! ”

Josh’s breath caught, and then, with a defiant yell, he cast his own saber aside. It spun once before sinking into the shallow water, the blue blade extinguished in a dying hiss. With both arms outstretched, he met Tyler’s push with equal strength, his muscles screaming in protest, his shoulder seizing from the strain.

The Force shuddered violently. It couldn’t take the tension. And then...

It broke.

The shockwave erupted outward in a blinding flash.

Josh flew backward, crashing through the water like a cannonball, his body skipping across the surface before slamming into a cluster of twisted roots. Tyler was hurled into a tree, the bark cracking from the impact. Both hit the ground hard, groaning in pain.

The rain didn’t stop. It only got worse.

Josh rose first, soaking wet, his arm cradled to his side. His knee burned from where it had hit the stone earlier, and now the pain in his ribs warned of possible fractures. He limped forward through the shallows, breathing hard, soaked curls sticking to his brow.

Tyler stumbled out from the base of the tree, brushing splinters from his cloak. He held the back of his head where blood mixed with rain. But his eyes never left Josh’s.

They stood just a few feet apart now. No sabers. No tricks. Just truth. Or at least, their versions of it.

“The Sith and the Jedi,” Tyler began, his voice tight and strained, “are similar in almost every way. Including their lust for power. Their arrogance. Their belief that they know what’s best.”

Josh’s face twisted.

“That’s not true. The Sith are driven by obsession. Fear. Anger. They use passion as a weapon. They consume everything around them.”

“And the Jedi don’t?” Tyler’s laugh was bitter and broken. “They hoard knowledge. They strip children from their homes. They suppress emotions until they explode. They call it peace, but it’s just another kind of control.”

Josh clutched his side.

“The Jedi serve. We protect. We act in selflessness.”

Tyler tilted his head, stepping forward into the space between them.

“Then why does your voice shake when you say that?”

Josh flinched. Just slightly.

Tyler smiled, not cruelly, but sadly, like someone seeing through glass into the heart of someone he once knew.

"You feel it. The edge. The hypocrisy. The ache of something not adding up.”

Josh opened his mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. The rain beat down, washing the mud and blood from his skin, but not the doubt from his heart.

“Why keep trying to convince yourself of a reality that doesn’t hold up?” Tyler said, voice almost soft now. “You don’t have to stay chained to their version of the truth. Let go. Listen to what the Force is actually telling you and not what they trained you to hear.”

Josh felt it deep in his gut. A churning knot of betrayal. Doubt. Anger. Hopelessness. It wasn’t just emotional anymore, it was physical, like his very body was rejecting the weight of what he was hearing, what he was feeling. The Force inside him flickered unsteadily, dimmed by confusion, by pain.

He sucked in a breath, trying to ground himself, but it stabbed like fire through his ribs, and he doubled forward, coughing violently. Blood spattered from his lips onto the wet earth beneath him, staining the swamp’s muddy floor crimson.

Tears streaked down his cheeks, mingling with the rain.

“The Jedi… are good,” he managed, his voice ragged and wet. He spat the blood from his mouth like it burned him. His vision blurred, the edges swimming in grey.

Tyler took a step forward through the rising mist. The rain clung to his cloak in rivulets, his eyes flickering, red to brown, then red again. Not just anger this time. Conflict. Hesitation. A storm within a storm.

“The Jedi lied to you,” Tyler said softly now, his words no longer laced with venom, but with resignation. “And they will continue to lie. Because they’re afraid of you. Just like they were afraid of me.”

Josh blinked hard, trying to hold on to clarity, to sanity. His knees buckled beneath him, and he stumbled, falling hard into the muck. A sharp, searing pain shot through his leg as he hit the ground. He let out a strangled cry, more from despair than from pain.

“Stop, ” he begged, his voice small.

Tyler stood over him, a dark silhouette backlit by the storm, cloak whipping in the wind like the wings of a shadowed predator. He didn’t strike. He didn’t run. He watched.

Then, slowly, he dropped to one knee, squatting in front of the broken Padawan. One gloved hand extended, not to harm, but to lift.

Fingers pressed beneath Josh’s chin, tilting his face upward.

“Tsk, tsk… ” Tyler clicked his tongue softly, head shaking. His face was close now, eyes scanning Josh’s like he was reading a torn manuscript. “You look pathetic, Jedi.”

Josh didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His breathing came in short, sharp gasps, and his whole body trembled with pain and confusion. His short hair clung to his forehead, soaked with sweat and rain. The small Padawan braid whipped against his jawline in the wind. The cut slashed across the bridge of his nose, now bleeding. Mud streaked his tunic. His lips were split. And his eyes were full of tears that wouldn’t stop falling.

“Stop, ” Josh whispered again, a mantra now. A plea. “Please.”

Tyler’s expression twitched, something caught in his throat, though he didn’t speak of it. For a heartbeat, the rain between them slowed. The air stilled.

Then he leaned in, forehead nearly touching Josh’s, and his voice dropped to a whisper.

“Come find me,” Tyler murmured, “when you’re ready to really talk.”

He let go.

Josh’s head dropped instantly. And without thinking, without control, he collapsed forward, his body falling into Tyler’s chest. He sobbed, the sound torn from him like it had been locked away too long, muffled against the dark folds of Tyler’s soaked cloak.

Tyler froze. Just for a moment. Then he stood.

Josh slid off him like a fallen statue, crumpling into the swamp with a wet thud. His hands hit first, the right sinking into the muck, but the left folded beneath him with a sickening jolt, already weakened from the earlier blow. He landed hard on his shoulder, the breath knocked from his lungs in a ragged groan. His body curled in on itself, pain flaring behind his eyes.

Tyler turned without a word. Water streamed off his hood, soaking his cloak. Each step he took squelched deep into the earth, muffled by the thick moss and ferns.

Josh lay shaking, half-submerged in the muck. His breaths came in short, pained gasps. Frogs croaked in the distance, joined by the faint howl of some unseen creature farther off.

“T–Tyl…” Josh rasped. His voice cracked. He tried to push himself up, arm trembling, but the strength left him just as quickly as it came. “Help… me…”

His hand reached toward the retreating figure, slick with mud, fingers barely twitching.

Then he collapsed fully, the strength gone. His body sagged into the cold earth, motionless. Unconscious.

Tyler stopped.

He didn’t turn at first, just stood there, his back tense, shoulders hunched beneath the weight of rain and something heavier. Around him, the air thickened. The Force stirred.

A ripple passed through the trees. Dagobah was not a silent witness. The planet watched. The planet remembered. The darkness here was not the kind that roared. It whispered, it clung, it listened.

Slowly, Tyler turned his head. His hood still cast his face in shadow, but the faintest flicker of something human passed across it. His eyes, once burning with fury, were brown again. He stared at the broken figure behind him, rain pouring down his cheeks like tears he couldn’t cry.

The Force murmured. It pulled at him, not with command, but with possibility.

Tyler closed his eyes. Took one slow breath. And kept walking.

The fog swallowed him in moments, as if the swamp itself were claiming him.

Chapter Text

Tyler stood in the fog. Rain fell in sheets, cold and relentless, a steady hiss against the swaying canopy above. It ran down his face in icy rivulets, soaked the hem of his cloak, and turned the jungle floor into a slurry of mud and rot.

His hood sagged under the weight of the water, dripping in steady rhythm, as if the planet itself wept for him.

The mists of Dagobah wrapped around him like the dead, thick and curling, clinging to his every breath. The air was rank with the scent of ancient water, moss-slick roots, and the wet, metallic tinge of decay. Trees loomed overhead like the broken spines of fallen beasts, twisted and towering, dripping with vines that writhed even without wind.

But the noise outside was nothing compared to the noise inside his head.

No, not noise. A voice.

A low, venomous pang throbbed through his chest, alive and electric, as if lightning crawled inside his bones.

The Padawan knows too much. He must die.

Tyler’s breath hitched. He flinched, violently, like he’d been struck. He shook his head, twisting as if the thought itself had sunk claws into the base of his skull.

“He can’t die,” he growled, voice hoarse, the syllables torn from a throat still healing. “I’ve been tasked to turn him.”

But the voice slithered back in, inevitable as the tide. It was his voice, but laced with the chill of something older. The rot of ages. It sounded like it had been buried in a tomb, scraped free from the bones of dead Sith and given breath again only to haunt him.

The Jedi’s knowledge of you is a fracture. A weakness. He sees the boy beneath the mask. He sees your shame.

Tyler’s crimson eyes lit like fire beneath the drenched hood, glowing as he stormed through the mud. The rain poured down, blurring the edges of the swamp around him, but he moved as if hunted, as if the very planet conspired to drown him in memory.

“No,” he spat, low and vicious, robes dragging through the brackish water. “He knows nothing. Only what I’ve shown him. The Jedi lied to him. I gave him the truth.”

But the voice curled in again, a serpent winding tighter around his spine.

You found a thread. A sliver of doubt. But will it unravel him? Or bind him tighter to the Light? You walk a knife’s edge, Tyler. Will you break him… or will he break you?

Tyler stopped. The ground squelched beneath his feet.

His hands curled into claws. His breath caught in his throat.

It’s a shame you were the one tasked to this mission. You are worthless. You were supposed to die on Rexus Prime. You should have bled out in an alley, alone and unwanted. You were weak. You still are.

That Padawan, he’s stronger than you were. Stronger than you’ll ever be. He will see through you. Perhaps, he already does.

The voice sneered now, scraping along the inside of his skull.

You are nothing but a shadow draped in stolen power. A failure wrapped in black.

Tyler screamed. The sound tore from his throat like an animal’s howl, raw and jagged, rising over the hiss of the rain. 

His fist crashed into the side of his temple. Once. Twice. Flesh met bone with a sickening crack. He stumbled, caught himself against a twisted tree, rain splashing against the bark.

He raked his nails down the side of his face. The skin split under his fingers. Thin streams of blood mixed with water, trailing down his chin.

He clawed at his scalp, fingers tangled in soaked hair, pulling until his neck ached. He shook his head violently, like he could rattle the voice loose, purge it with pain.

“STOP. Stop! ” he roared, the words shredding his raw throat. His vocal cords tore at the effort, burned as if set aflame from the inside.

He pities you, the voice hissed, softer now, dripping poison. 

He looked at you and saw a broken thing, not a threat. A man still begging for his Master’s approval, still hungry for someone else’s command.

You think you’re a true Sith? You’re a child playing dress-up in the ashes of greater men.

Tyler fell to his knees.

His scream shattered the stillness of the swamp, a sound too raw to be human. It broke apart in his throat, dissolved into a ragged sob, then another. He dropped to his knees in the muck, clutching his skull as if the pressure might stop the torment. 

His forehead pressed into the cold, stinking mud. The rain fell harder, slicing across his back in sharp, indifferent lashes. His chest convulsed, the sobs pulled not from lungs but from something deeper, beneath bone, beneath memory. From the place where the last of his soul had been carved hollow.

The voice in his head, his voice, twisted by pain and poisoned by indoctrination, finally fell silent. For now.

Only the rain occupied his ears. And the dull hum of insects circling like scavengers. 

Mud clung to Tyler’s black robes, thick and heavy. Blood streaked his face in slow, rain-thinned lines. His breath came in shallow, gasping shudders. Each inhale scraped like broken glass down his throat, each exhale a confession he couldn’t speak aloud.

He sobbed harder, shoulders shaking with the force of it, each breath more broken than the last. His hands trembled violently, nails biting into his palms until the skin gave way, leaving crescent moons of blood.

His eyes flickered in the stormlight, bright Sith red, then brown, then red again. Like a damaged holocron trying to relay a corrupted truth, one second clarity, the next distortion. 

Get up.

The voice struck like a tremor through the mud-slick air.

Tyler shook his head. Tears streaked down his face, tracing old scars and new ones alike. Rain spattered against his skin, mingling with the blood, the tears, the sweat.

Get. Up.

It wasn’t a plea. It was a command, quiet, but absolute.

He pressed the back of his shaking hand to his face, trying to wipe away the wetness, but it only smeared the mud and grief deeper. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled, once, twice, forcing the chaos inside him to still. He reached into the center of himself, not for strength, but for emptiness.

And then…he rose.

Slowly. As if the planet itself tried to hold him down, as if gravity were mourning for him. 

He raised his hood and pulled it low, the fabric soaked, molding to his skin like a burial shroud. It stuck to the fresh, jagged wounds burned into each side of his face, gifts from his own hands.

Go.

The voice came again, no longer a whisper, but a thread of dark inevitability. It called him to move. To return. To face the Jedi he’d left behind.

A pull bloomed in his chest. Not the clean draw of the Force, not the seductive swell of power. No, it was something quieter. Older. Frailer. Something his master would call a sickness. Something with a name like shame.

He ignored it.

He stepped forward, boots sloshing into black water, the surface rippling with each step like the tremor of a vision. Vines twisted low from the trees above, snagging at his shoulders and arms like desperate fingers. Roots jutted from the swamp floor, crooked and pale as bones, half-buried in the earth like the remains of fallen warriors.

He reached the edge of the water, and there, just beyond a rise in the muck and vapor, lay the silhouette of Josh, right where he left him.

Halfway facedown in the shallow swamp, curled against the cold. His body unmoving. His cloak sodden, waterlogged, pressed tight to his back. Mud streaked his limbs. His skin looked too pale.

But his chest rose. Faint and shallow. Alive.

Tyler stepped from the tree line, the rain falling softer now, soaking them both in silence. The water rippled around his boots as he moved, each step slow, cautious. As if any sound might shatter the fragile stillness of it all.

He stood over him.

One push. Just one. And Josh would vanish. Swallowed by the planet, drowned beneath mud and rain and silence. Dagobah would take him. There would be no witnesses. No guilt. No questions. 

Tyler reached up and pulled his hood back, crimson eyes flickering brown.

Remnants of rain ran down his face, washing away the streaks of blood but not the weight behind his eyes. He crouched beside the Padawan and stared.

Josh looked… at peace. But not with the still, cultivated calm of the Jedi. Not that stiff serenity they preached in their temples. No, this was something else. He looked exhausted. Vulnerable and young.

Freckles dotted his cheeks, mostly hidden beneath mud and grime. Rain traced thin streaks through it, carving him clean again. His lips were slightly parted. His fingers twitched, faintly. A dream, perhaps. Or the echo of one.

Tyler glanced around, scanning the shadows through the rain, but there was no one. Only the swamp. 

Kill him. Do it now.

The voice in his skull slithered back into place, quieter now, muffled, as if still licking its wounds from his earlier resistance. But persistent. Patient. Like a predator waiting in the dark for weakness.

Tyler’s eyes dropped to the man beneath him. Josh, half-submerged in the cold, fetid water, his body shivering, his breath shallow and broken. The blood from his temple ran pink in the swamp, diluted by rain and silt. His saber was gone, buried somewhere beneath the muck. He was unarmed. Exposed.

You know you want to. You feel it. You crave the power. The blood. He almost killed you once. You could end it now, and be done with the doubt.

Tyler clenched his jaw, and a muscle twitched in his temple. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the voice was inside, behind his eyelids, coiling through every fracture in his mind.

“No,” he breathed. “It would be a waste.”

Weak.

He opened his eyes slowly, gaze hard and unreadable. Rain streaked down his face in clean lines, cutting through the grime. He stared at Josh’s form again, limp in the water, barely conscious.

“He’s too valuable to get rid of.”

Too valuable? Or too much like you?

“He’s already slipping,” Tyler said aloud, to no one and to himself. “He’s angry. He questions everything. I just need to keep him doubting.”

Coward. He will kill you. You are no Sith. Just a broken thing that survived too long.

Tyler's brow furrowed. A slow, sharp inhale cut through his teeth. For a moment, the light caught in his eyes. The voice pulsed again. Insistent. Demanding.

But instead of answering it, Tyler moved.

He slipped an arm beneath Josh’s knees, the other behind his back, and lifted him with ease. The boy’s body sagged against him, head falling limp against his shoulder. Rain soaked his hair, dark strands plastering against Tyler’s chest.

He turned, and walked.

The mud pulled at his boots, slick and treacherous. Halfway through the mire, he stumbled, slipping to one knee, the Padawan’s weight shifting with him. Josh’s head lolled, falling closer into the hollow of Tyler’s chest.

Tyler froze. Then swallowed hard.

He adjusted his grip, tightening it, and stood again. His boots sloshed through the mud as he continued forward, each step heavier than the last.

By the time he reached the tent, his arms were burning with effort. He stepped through the flap. The interior was cloaked in warmth and shadow. The rain whispered against the fabric above, a steady hush broken only by the flickering buzz of a low-powered lantern, rigged to one of the support beams. Its golden light pulsed gently, like a dying star.

Tyler crossed the threshold, water trailing from his robes, and dropped Josh onto the cot with a dull, unceremonious thud. The Padawan’s body collapsed into the bedding. Limbs limp, soaked through, boots still dripping onto the floor.

For a long moment, Tyler didn’t move.

He stood over him, breathing heavily, stormlight still clinging to his silhouette. Josh looked half-dead. His skin was ghost-pale, sallow under the golden lantern glow. His chest rose and fell, shallow and uneven, each breath like a whisper on the edge of vanishing.

Something twisted in Tyler’s chest. A sharp, unwelcome pang. He scowled, shoving the feeling down with the same precision he used to silence pain in combat.

But his eyes lingered.

The fresh scar across the bridge of Josh’s nose caught the lantern light, its raw edge still pink, not yet hardened into memory. Tyler’s gaze fixed on it, something about it drawing him in like gravity. 

He raised a hand slowly, mud-streaked, fingers bloodied and shaking. His touch drifted upward, as if pulled by instinct rather than thought.

Then his fingertips brushed his own face.

The scar carved across his nose was older, rougher. Jagged like a saber strike, but not clean. It had healed without care. Without bacta. Without kindness.

He pressed into it, as if to remind himself it was real. As if comparing the two wounds might explain the feeling in his chest. Might erase it.

It didn’t.

The moment fractured like glass.

Tyler’s brow furrowed, and he jerked his hand away as if burned. A tremor ran down his spine, not from the cold. From the memory.

He turned sharply, his soaked cloak whispering around his legs. The hood came up in one smooth, practiced motion, shadow veiling the sudden storm in his eyes.

Without another word, without a backward glance, he slipped out through the tent flap and into the swamp. Light rain swallowed him whole, the night closing around his figure like a secret the galaxy wasn’t meant to hear.

—

Padawan.

The word echoed like a ripple through still water. Soft, familiar, and impossibly distant.

Josh’s eyes snapped open, but there was no light. No sky. No swamp. Just endless black, stretching in every direction. The air was thick and silent, save for the sound of his own breathing, ragged and uncertain.

He staggered to his feet, or at least, he thought he did. It was hard to tell where his body ended and the darkness began. There was no ground beneath him, only void.

Was he dead? Had he drowned out in the swamp? Had Tyler killed him while he was unconscious? Was this the afterlife, or a nightmare?

“Hello? ” Josh called out, voice cracking. He spun around, frantic, searching for the source. Nothing. Only smoke, thin at first, then thickening, curling in from the edges of the black like a slow, creeping tide.

It swirled in a wide arc around him, coalescing into a vortex that pulled at the edges of his consciousness. And then… it took form.

A figure stepped forward, half-formed from mist and memory. The robes were familiar. So was the presence. Calm, strong, the way it had always been when Josh was young and unsure. The smoke settled into the shape of a man. Radiant, but soft. Like light through water.

“Joshua,” Keons said, his voice gentle. There was a faint smile on his face. Wistful, like a ghost remembering joy.

Josh’s throat tightened. His knees nearly buckled.

“Master… ” The words barely made it past his lips. 

The figure nodded. Not quite solid. Not quite gone. And in that moment, Josh wanted nothing more than to run to him. To fall into the arms of the man who had taught him everything.

But he didn’t move. Something was wrong. The darkness didn’t recede. The smoke clung to Keons like a shadow. And somewhere deep inside Josh, a chill spread. This was no ordinary vision. Something else was here.

“Keons? ” Josh whispered again.

His Master didn’t answer. The smile had faded from his face, replaced with a flat stillness. His eyes shifted to the left, past Josh, distant and unblinking.

Josh turned to follow his gaze.

There, in the swirling dark, stood a man. Back turned, saber ignited, its blade casting a faint crimson hue across the void. His shoulders rose and fell with each heavy breath. 

Josh stepped forward slowly, uncertain, glancing back at Keons.

The ghost didn’t move. He stared straight through the figure, as if he weren’t really there.

Josh turned again. And stopped. The man had turned around. He was staring at Josh.

No…he…

He was Josh.

Josh gasped. And so did the man.

But he was older. His short hair had grown longer, unkempt. The scar across the bridge of his nose had faded with time, but a new one marred his face. Cutting down from brow to cheekbone, slicing clean across his eye. His skin was pale, shadowed with exhaustion.

But it was the eyes that froze Josh in place.

Crimson. Burning. Familiar in shape but hollowed out by hatred, glowing with power that felt too loud, too wrong. They pulsed like open wounds, leaking fury into the darkness around him.

Josh raised a trembling hand toward the figure, fingers shaking.

The mirror-Josh did the same. Perfectly in sync. A puppet reflection. Their hands moved as one, slow and deliberate, until their fingers nearly met in the empty air between them.

Josh’s breath hitched in his throat. He could feel it now, this thing wasn’t just a vision. It was him. Or what he could become. What he was already becoming.

He stumbled back a step, heart thundering in his chest.

He turned sharply toward Keons, but the ghost was gone. No warmth, no presence. Only smoke lingered in his place, curling upward into the void like incense over a dying altar.

“Master Keons? ” Josh whispered, barely audible over the rising thrum in the air.

He spun again, panic flooding through him like cold water in his veins.

His double, the corrupted version of himself, was already walking away. Slow. Purposeful. Toward a figure crumpled on the ground in the near distance.

A man knelt there, shoulders bowed, sobs wracking his body. The sound echoed strangely in the abyss, too loud, too real. His face was buried in his hands, fingers dug into his scalp.

“Please… ” the man whimpered, voice raw. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

Josh moved toward him without thinking, each step heavier than the last. The air thickened as he drew closer, like wading through grief.

The man looked up. And Josh stopped cold.

It was Tyler.

Older. Weary. His face was gaunt, lined with guilt. His skin looked sickly in the dreamlight. But it was the eyes that told the truth, brown, not red. Wide with terror. Red-rimmed with tears. Human.

This wasn’t the ruthless Sith apprentice who had left him in the rain. This was someone broken. Someone asking for mercy. Terrified. Defeated. Begging.

Josh’s corrupted self didn’t flinch.

He raised his saber high above his head, crimson light casting long shadows across his face. His expression was unreadable, empty, but focused. A weapon with no soul behind it.

Josh’s voice cracked as he screamed, “NO! ”

He lunged forward, sprinting through the darkness, reaching for the blade, for Tyler, for anything...

The saber came down in one clean arc. It cut through Tyler like light through smoke.

No scream. Just a flicker of pain and a soft collapse. The sound of fabric hitting the ground. His body crumpled inward, folding around the impact, then still.

Josh skidded to a stop, horror tearing through his chest.

The other him turned. And grinned. Not in triumph. In delight.

His crimson eyes burned brighter, and he laughed, low and sharp, like glass shattering. The saber hissed as he spun it in his grip, then, in one fluid motion, drove it straight through Josh’s torso.

The pain wasn’t just physical, it was spiritual, like something inside him was being torn loose, ripped apart by the very Force that had once held him together.

He gasped, mouth open in a silent scream, light bursting at the edges of his vision.

He fell, hands clutching at the burning wound, but there was nothing to grasp. Just light. Just darkness.

And...

He awoke.

—

The Padawan’s breathing quickened, his chest rising and falling in rapid bursts. Tyler sat silently on a supply crate across from the cot, elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely. Watching. Waiting.

Josh’s brow twitched. His fingers curled, then flexed again, restless. Even unconscious, it looked like he was fighting. His muscles tensed, his jaw clenched. A sheen of sweat glistened on his temple, trailing down his cheek in slow, trembling lines. His breathing hitched, stuttered, then...

He shot upright with a ragged scream, back arching, hands slamming to his chest as if trying to extinguish a fire beneath his ribs.

Tyler stood instantly, instinct overriding judgment. He crossed the short distance and pressed a steady hand to Josh’s shoulder, firm but not harsh.

Josh was gasping, chest heaving. His eyes were wide, wild, drenched in panic and flicking around the dimly lit tent like he didn’t know where he was.

Then they locked onto Tyler. And everything froze.

“You’re… alive?” Josh rasped, voice hoarse and hollow. His hand lifted, trembling, and came to rest against Tyler’s chest. Searching. Grounding. As if to prove he was real.

Tyler recoiled slightly, jaw tightening. He stepped back, letting the hand fall away, unease flickering in his expression. The touch had rattled him.

“Of course I’m alive,” he said, more bite in his voice than necessary. “You’re the one who almost died, not me.”

Josh doubled over slightly, still catching his breath, each inhale sharper than the last, but slowing. Regulating.

Tyler hovered a moment longer, watching the Padawan come back to himself, piece by piece. Whatever dream had clawed at Josh… it hadn’t let go easily. And something in his eyes, just for a second, looked like it never would.

“What did you see?” Tyler asked, voice low but pointed.

“How did I get here?” Josh asked at the same time, his words overlapping Tyler’s.

They both fell silent, eyes locked, like two people who had seen different storms but were still standing in the same wreckage.

Tyler narrowed his gaze.

“Nevermind that. What did you see? ”

Josh frowned, but let his own question hang in the air, unanswered. He swung his legs off the cot slowly, muscles groaning in protest. Pain radiated through his knee, his head pulsing with a dull, rhythmic throb.

He brought a hand to his temple, fingers pressing lightly against the bruised skin there, trying to push back the ache, or maybe the memory.

“I… I don’t understand,” he murmured, voice raw.

“You don’t understand the question? How dense are y-”

“What I saw, Tyler,” Josh snapped, cutting him off. “I don’t understand what I saw. ”

The venom in his tone landed with precision.

Tyler blinked, momentarily stunned by the sharpness. He leaned back slightly, lips parting as if to reply, but no words came right away. He studied Josh, something unreadable flickering behind his expression.

Josh let the silence stretch, the weight of it pressing between them like a blade yet to fall. He wasn’t ready to describe it, the crimson eyes, the saber in his own hand, himself standing over Tyler’s kneeling form… laughing like he’d won something terrible.

“I saw something wrong,” he said at last, voice low, distant. “Something I could become. I think… I think it was me. But not.”

Tyler didn’t move. Didn’t blink. But the muscle in his jaw tightened. Just enough to notice.

“What did you do? ” he asked, voice laced with suspicion.

Josh rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly aware of how cold the air felt against his sweat-soaked skin. He looked up at Tyler, just for a second, then dropped his gaze just as fast.

“I, uh… I saw my Master. That’s all.”

A lie.

Tyler’s eyes flickered. A spark of red, before dimming into a deep maroon. Still not quite brown. Still not quite human.

“Tell me what you saw, Jedi, ” Tyler said, the word like poison in his mouth. His voice darkened, something cold curling beneath it. “I can help you.”

Josh let out a bitter laugh, dry and sharp.

“And if I don’t tell you?” he snapped. “You’ll kill me?”

Tyler’s lips curled slightly. But before either of them could say more, Josh pushed himself upright. His legs buckled instantly. He lurched forward with a choked noise, pain and surprise twisting together, but didn’t hit the ground.

Tyler caught him.

His hands moved on instinct, grabbing Josh beneath the arms, steadying him. His fingers clenched reflexively around Josh’s shoulders. For a moment, neither of them breathed.

Then Josh straightened slowly, leaning just enough to stay balanced, and met Tyler’s eyes.

Josh’s breath was still shallow.

“Thanks,” he muttered, the word coarse and irritating in his throat, like sand.

“Whatever,” Tyler snapped, already stepping back. “Pull it together.”

Josh leaned heavily against the closest support beam, his fingers wrapping around it like a lifeline. His legs still trembled, but he forced himself to stay upright. He wouldn’t show too much weakness. Not after the nightmare he just saw. Not in front of him.

Tyler watched, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Then, his voice softened, just slightly. Too slightly.

“Let me help you.”

Josh’s eyes narrowed. The tone didn’t match the words. There was something behind it. Measured, waiting, dangerous.

“Help me?” Josh said, suspicion tightening his voice. “Is that what we’re calling this now?”

Tyler didn’t flinch.

“You’re floundering. Bleeding power by the second. I’m offering you a way forward.”

Josh blinked, uncertain. Not of what Tyler meant, but of how much it might be working. How much his exhaustion was already dragging him closer to something he didn’t fully understand.

Or maybe he did, and that’s what scared him.

“I saw a version of me,” Josh said slowly. “And my Master.”

Tyler tilted his head, brow arching, amused.

“And?”

Josh turned his head toward him, the look he gave Tyler sharp enough to cut.

“Give me a second. I can…barely stand.”

A dry laugh slipped from Tyler’s mouth, low and humorless. 

Josh rolled his eyes and placed his hand to his throbbing knee. He exhaled, closing his eyes and reaching inward, searching for the pulse of the Force. The stillness. The current that had always answered him.

Nothing.

He furrowed his brow and tried again, deeper this time. He called out in silence to the light he’d always known.

Still, nothing.

His breath hitched.

Inside him, the space that had always been filled with warmth and guidance was just… vacant. Gone. Like a door had slammed shut somewhere inside him.

A chill crept up his spine.

Josh’s eyes opened sharply, panic flickering in them.

Tyler noticed. Of course he did.

“You’re reaching for something that doesn’t want you anymore,” Tyler said quietly, almost kindly, but it was a blade in disguise. “You felt it leave you, didn’t you? You just didn’t know what the feeling was.”

Josh didn’t answer.

“Good,” Tyler went on, voice a shade darker now. “Because that silence? That emptiness? That’s where truth begins. And power.”

Josh clenched his fists, eyes burning. Not with the Force, but with frustration.

“Don’t mistake my weakness for permission,” he hissed. “I’ll get it back.”

Tyler smiled thinly.

“You won’t. Not that version of it. Not after what you’ve seen.”

He took a step closer, slow and deliberate.

“But that’s not a bad thing, Joshua,” he whispered. “It means you're ready.”

Josh stood too fast, ignoring the flare of agony, and stumbled out of the tent, shoving through the flap like it was choking him. He needed air. He needed space. He needed to feel something, anything, besides the silence inside him.

His eyes locked onto a small stone near the path, no bigger than his fist. He raised a trembling hand toward it, palm open, fingers spread.

He willed it to move. Just a nudge. A shift. A sign.

Nothing.

His heart lurched. His breath caught. He turned sharply, hand swinging toward a nearby branch hanging low from the trees. He flicked his fingers upward, calling the Force to lift it.

It didn’t even sway.

Josh’s stomach sank. The world around him suddenly felt too quiet. No hum. No flow. No warmth at the edges of his mind.

Just emptiness.

He backed up a few steps, stumbling slightly on the uneven ground. His hands lifted again, both this time, shaking, frantic, as he locked his gaze on a moss-covered log half-buried in mud. A target. A focus.

He closed his eyes.

Breathe. Feel. Reach out. Become one with the Force. It surrounds you. It binds you. It will answer you.

He called up every lesson. Every moment in training. Every time his Master had steadied his hand and said, “You’re not alone.”

He reached.

He begged.

Nothing.

The log remained still. Unmoved. Uncaring.

Josh’s arms dropped, useless at his sides. A hollow sound escaped him, half gasp, half sob, as he staggered backwards. 

Behind him, a scoff broke the silence. Sharp and cruel.

Josh whipped his head around, hair plastered to his face from sweat. His eyes locked with Tyler’s.

“What have you done?” he demanded, voice cracking as he pointed at the Sith. “What did you do to me?!”

He knew this was Tyler’s fault. He’d sewn the seed. He’d twisted the blade. This spiral, this void in the Force, it began with him.

But Tyler didn’t answer. He simply tilted his head, smirked, and stepped forward with slow, measured intent.

“What have I done, Padawan?” he said, voice silked in mockery. “You’re asking the wrong question.”

He paused, then added, softly: “You should be asking yourself. ”

Josh’s stomach turned.

The calm he used to feel in moments of crisis, his center, was gone. What once was filled with light, with memory, with hope … now churned like oil over flame.

“You did this to me!” Josh shouted, staggering backward, gesturing wildly between them. “You poisoned my mind!”

Tyler smiled wider. His boots splashed softly in the mud as he closed the distance.

“You’re not poisoned,” he said. “You’re awakening.”

He unclipped his soaked outer robes and let them fall to the ground in a heavy heap, revealing the black tunic beneath, fitted like armor without metal.

“You’re right there, Joshua,” he said, voice low, dark, coaxing. “Right on the threshold. You’ve seen it. Tasted it. You felt your strength in that dream. Didn’t you?”

Josh stumbled, boots slipping in the wet ground.

“What are you doing?” he breathed, voice fragile. “Tyler, this...you said we’d talk. ”

“We are talking,” Tyler said, eyes flashing from deep brown to blood-red again. “I’m just done pretending you don’t already know where this ends.”

Josh backed up again and his heel caught on a half-buried rock. He fell hard onto the mud, the impact jarring through his sore knee.

Tyler stopped above him, eyes glowing, tunic clinging to him like a shadow given shape.

“Let’s see,” he said softly, “just how far I can push you.”

“Don’t... ” Josh gasped, scrambling backward on his palms.

But Tyler’s hand snapped forward, fingers curling with practiced precision. The air thickened.

Josh choked as an invisible noose seized his throat. He clawed at his neck instinctively, but there was nothing there, only the pressure, crushing, tightening with every heartbeat. His eyes widened. His mouth gaped.

“Stop!” he rasped, barely audible.

Tyler stepped closer, his voice low and almost reverent.

“You thought the dark side was something outside of you. But it’s not. It’s already in you, Josh. It’s always been there. I’m just giving it a voice.”

Josh thrashed, legs slipping in the mud, fingers digging into the invisible grip, lungs screaming for air.

“Feel it,” Tyler hissed. “That anger. That fear. It’s power, Padawan. Raw and yours. Stop running from it. Now is the time. You’ve never been more primed.”

Josh’s vision blurred, edges burning white. The Force was silent still, a locked door. But beneath the silence… something stirred. Something hot.

His lungs screamed. He could hear his own heartbeat, thunderous, deafening, as his body struggled for air. The pressure around his throat tightened, and then…

Something inside him broke. Not a bone. Not a tendon. Something deeper. The heat rose up from within like wildfire.

Josh let go of his throat and let out a guttural scream. Not in fear, not in desperation, but in rage.  

The Force surged through him, not clean, not serene, but jagged, like broken glass dragged beneath his skin. It tore through him in violent pulses, wild and raw, the way a dam breaks: not with grace, but with ruin.

It wasn’t peace. It wasn’t clarity. It was fire. And it wanted out.

The invisible grip around his throat shattered, splintering with a soundless quake. Josh collapsed to the ground, coughing violently, air tearing back into his lungs like razors. His fingers dug into the mud, nails biting the earth as he tried to push himself up, arms shaking with effort.

The taste of blood mixed with water on his tongue. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.

And then he looked up. His eyes burned.

Not fully red. Not yet. But flickering, back and forth, like coals coaxed to life. The brown of his irises, once warm and steady, now flared with bursts of crimson, like lightning behind clouds. Ashes in the wind. Light to dark. Dark to light. A soul at war with itself.

And standing above him watching it all with rapt fascination, was Tyler.

He smiled, slow and wide. His expression was that of a predator beholding its reflection for the first time. The sharp glint of his canines caught the dim light, too white against the shadow.

“Marvelous,” Tyler said, voice low and reverent.

Josh didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

Something inside him had gone still. Not calm. Not empty. Just… quiet. As though every voice of doubt, every tether to what he’d been, had stepped back and closed the door.

He knew he should care, but that voice was gone, too.

Without a word, he lifted his hand, palm out, and thrust it toward Tyler. He poured every ounce of himself into it. Pulling from the Light. The Force crackled, lashing out like lightning through his veins, but Tyler didn’t so much as sway.

The air shuddered with the effort, but the result was nothing.

Josh’s brow furrowed, his lip curling in frustration. He tried again, teeth gritted, this time with a yell caught behind his breath.

Still, Tyler didn’t move.

He stood firm, arms relaxed at his sides, tunic soaked and clinging to him like second skin. His grin widened, pleased.

“You feel it now, don’t you?” Tyler said, voice thick with heat. “The power. The anger. But you're still pulling from the wrong source.”

Josh’s hand trembled. Rage burned behind his sternum like a furnace about to rupture.

Tyler stepped forward, slowly, deliberately, boots sloshing through the mud.

“You’re reaching with Jedi hands. Still clinging to their rules. Their fear.” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “Let it go. All of it.”

He came to a stop just inches away, close enough for Josh to feel the heat of his breath.

“Stop reaching for their peace,” Tyler said again, softly now. “Reach for your rage. Let it feed you.”

Josh’s jaw clenched so tightly it ached. He didn’t want this. Didn’t want to fall into the spiral Tyler had laid out for him like a trap. But the truth was already clawing its way through his chest.

The Force had abandoned him. The Jedi had lied to him. Promised him clarity. Serenity. Control.

And in the vision… he had seen what waited at the end of that lie. He exhaled once, slow and sharp, and closed his eyes. And then, he let go.

Of restraint. Of peace. Of the teachings that had burned into his muscles since childhood. 

Of his Master.

He reached into the burning pit in his gut and pulled. Rage. Grief. Pain.

It surged through him, molten and electric, a wildfire racing through every nerve. It didn’t flow like the light side. It ignited. It consumed.

And it felt good.

Josh’s lips twisted into a smile, slow and cruel, as his eyes snapped open. Glowing, deeper now, like embers under storm clouds.

He lifted his hand.

Tyler staggered as the Force wrapped tight around his throat, invisible fingers squeezing hard.

Oddly enough, Tyler smiled.

Josh tilted his head, brow furrowed in curiosity, in dominance. A flick of his wrist, and Tyler was pulled through the air, stopping only when they were nose to nose.

Josh could feel Tyler’s breath now. Ragged, shallow, still laced with laughter despite the pressure.

“Do it,” Tyler rasped, voice fraying under the pressure. "Kill me."

Josh’s hand twitched, and the invisible grip around Tyler’s throat tightened reflexively. A final warning. A final test. 

Tyler didn’t flinch. His eyes glowed bright and hungry. His grin widened, feral and unafraid.

Josh yanked him forward.

Their lips crashed together. Hard, bruising, all fire and fury. It was a collision of pain and want, of two broken souls caught in a gravitational pull neither could escape. There was no grace in it. No calm.

It was war.

Tyler groaned against his mouth, the last of his breath spilling out into the kiss. Josh released his Force grip then, but barely had time to breathe before Tyler surged forward again, hands gripping Josh’s tunic with wild urgency.

Their mouths met a second time, even harder and this time, Tyler didn’t hold back. He pushed forward, and they toppled, landing in the thick mud with a wet, graceless thud. Mud and water splattered across them, slicking their clothes, their skin, their hair.

Josh gasped against Tyler’s mouth, but didn’t pull away. Couldn’t.

His hands found Tyler’s shoulders, fingers digging in as his lips moved in tandem with his. There was nothing soft in it. Nothing kind. Just raw, primal energy, too much of everything all at once. Rage. Power. Need.

The taste of spit and rainwater mixed between them. Mud splattered up their sides, caking to Josh’s knees, to Tyler’s elbows. But neither seemed to care. 

And Josh, Josh felt it. Not the light. Not the warmth he had clung to for so long. But something darker. Wilder. It howled through his veins like a beast let off its leash.

Every time Tyler’s lips moved against his, Josh felt himself slipping further from who he had been.

Further from the Jedi. And toward something else. Something dangerous. Something free.

Josh’s fingers tangled in Tyler’s tunic, and he pulled him closer, deepening the kiss with a growl that didn’t sound entirely human. The Force buzzed under his skin, dark and unsteady, like lightning behind stormclouds.

Josh didn’t know who he was anymore. Not truly. 

But whatever he was becoming…

…it had begun.

Chapter Text

Josh’s fingers tangled in Tyler’s tunic, fists tightening in the soaked fabric as he yanked him upward, crashing their mouths together in a kiss that was no longer gentle. It was desperate, possessive and feral. A low growl rumbled from Josh’s throat, too deep, too raw to be entirely human. It vibrated against Tyler’s lips like a warning.

Tyler pulled back, breathless, heart pounding, and stared up at the figure straddling him. For a moment, he didn’t recognize him.

The Jedi was gone. In his place was someone else. Something else.

Josh’s hair clung to his forehead in damp curls, the once-neat padawan braid askew, half-matted to his cheek. Mud streaked his jawline and neck, his tunic heavy with rain and earth. 

The fresh scar carved along the bridge of his nose looked darker now, more defined, like a crack in porcelain. His eyes flashed with something unholy. Red bled through the soft brown irises, flickering like embers threatening to consume him whole.

They had fallen mid-kiss, bodies colliding and sliding down the slick bank. Tyler was sprawled in the mud, the cold seeping through every layer of clothing. But all he could feel was heat, radiating off Josh in waves, pulsing with something dangerous.

And then Tyler surged up, caught in the madness, crashing their lips together again with a force that bruised. Josh tasted like rain and dirt and fury, his breath uneven, teeth scraping Tyler’s bottom lip as if he was trying to claim him with every second.

This, this was what Tyler had dreamed of. What he had worked for. The Jedi undone. A fall from grace. And all of it for him. Or so he thought.

Suddenly, Josh’s hands gripped his wrists, shoving them back against the earth with bruising strength. Mud squelched around Tyler’s arms as he was pinned down. The power behind the gesture wasn’t just physical, it was unnatural. Commanding. The air thickened, tingling with static.

“What are you...” Tyler tried to speak, but the words caught halfway out of his mouth and froze there.

His jaw locked. Literally. An invisible force seized it tight, silencing him in an instant. He gasped, eyes wide.

Josh tilted his head, slowly, eyes narrowing. He was doing what Tyler had once done to him. Holding him still with the Force. No incantation. No finesse. Just raw instinct and power surging through new, reckless veins.

Tyler’s throat bobbed, a heavy swallow as his Adam’s apple rose and fell. He wasn’t afraid, not of Josh. But this? This was different. Josh was new to the Dark. And the Dark didn’t give gently.

Josh’s gaze faltered for the briefest second. The red in his eyes dimmed, flickered, but didn’t vanish. His nostrils flared, breath ragged, and his fingers dug tighter into Tyler’s wrists, as if grounding himself, or holding on to the last shred of control he had.

The mud clung to both of them, cold and thick, but neither moved. The only sound was the storm still rumbling in the distance, the sky as heavy and volatile as the Force around them.

Josh blinked slowly, lips parted, his body trembling with something between exhilaration and horror.

Tyler fought against the invisible pressure of the Force, against the iron grip of Josh’s hands pinning his wrists into the wet ground. The pain was sharp now, the strain biting deep into his forearms, wrists aching as the bones ground together. Mud suctioned beneath him like it wanted to swallow him whole. He writhed, but there was no give.

Bruises bloomed beneath Josh’s hands, stark reminders that matched the darker ones still on Tyler’s throat. The ones from earlier, when Josh had strangled him. And that had been before he gave in to the Dark.

Tyler’s breathing hitched, his chest rising and falling faster, but there was still no fear. No panic. Just a tight coil of anticipation and heat. Because beneath the pain, beneath the pressure, was him. The Jedi boy Tyler had been sent to corrupt. The one he was supposed to break, to seduce, to turn .

Josh chuckled. Low, rough, something dark and feral that curled around Tyler’s ears like smoke. It wasn’t the laugh of the soft-spoken Padawan who believed he could save Tyler. This sound was alien. Foreign. It didn’t belong in Jedi temples or sparring rings.

It had teeth.

“You look scared, Apprentice,” Josh purred, voice slipping into something silk-wrapped and venom-laced.

Tyler’s eyes widened. Because that voice? That wasn’t Josh. This voice came from something else. Something that had crawled into Josh’s skin and worn him like a robe.

It was smooth, hypnotic, even enticing in the way the Dark always was, but Tyler wasn’t convinced. Not fully. There was a falter behind it. A flicker he couldn't name.

He’s close, Tyler thought. But not lost.

Tyler tried to shake his head. Tried to twist away, to snarl through his teeth, to say I’m not scared. But he couldn’t. Josh’s grip on his jaw was brutal, unyielding. The pressure pulsed through his cheekbones like a vice, and the bones creaked under it, just shy of breaking.

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

But his heart thundered against his ribs, screaming beneath the stillness. His lips parted without meaning to, drawn open by the sheer presence of the darkness standing over him. Something primal, ancient, twisted within him. Awe. Anger. Attraction. Fear.

Josh leaned down, the strands of his braid brushing against Tyler’s cheek, damp and tickling like a whisper. His lips ghosted over the bruises he’d left, now dark and blooming against the pale stretch of Tyler’s throat. He didn’t press in. He didn’t kiss. Just hovered, exhaling slow and warm, a breath laced with threat and something dangerously close to longing.

Goosebumps prickled along Tyler’s arms. His spine stiffened involuntarily beneath the weight of that breath, that presence .

Josh's eyes fluttered half-shut, lashes wet from rain, and he inhaled deeply at Tyler’s neck as if trying to memorize this moment.

His voice was low. Reverent. Terrified.

“I was taught the Dark Side would poison me.” His breath stirred against Tyler’s skin, lips brushing his pulse. “But it doesn’t feel like poison.”

Josh swallowed, his jaw trembling slightly before stilling with grim wonder. “It feels like power.”

And then he shivered, not from the cold, but from the way the Force hummed between them. Alive, volatile, and waiting to devour whoever surrendered first.

Tyler moaned, low and barely audible, his hips twitching up on instinct, grinding against Josh’s body. Josh’s ass was firm above him, pressing back just enough to ignite every nerve ending in his body. The friction made his pulse race, and Josh smiled as if he’d won.

He licked his lips slowly, deliberately, like a wolf savoring the first taste of blood. His eyes didn’t leave Tyler’s, watching the way they flickered: lust, fury, fear all tangled together. Then he dipped his head, dragging his tongue along Tyler’s neck, tracing the bruises he’d left like he was signing his name in saliva. 

He lapped over the streaks of mud, up the sharp cut of Tyler’s jaw, until he reached his mouth, hovering, lips brushing just shy of contact.

“Look at you,” Josh taunted, voice low and lethal, thick with power, hunger, control. “You’re shaking, and I’ve barely even touched you with the Force.”

He tilted his head, his breath ghosting against Tyler’s parted lips, eyes gleaming with a fevered red glow.

“Tell me again who’s more powerful?”

And god help him, Tyler loved it.

Loved the way Josh moved like he owned him now. Loved the way his voice dripped with sin, with power, with the arrogance only someone just beginning to understand their strength could wield. Josh had no idea how dangerous he was like this. And worse, he wanted to be dangerous.

But the Dark stirred inside Tyler, reacting like it had been waiting for this very moment. It slithered beneath his skin, coiling like a serpent ready to strike. The taste of Josh, his dominance, his corruption, was gasoline on the fire. The Force pulsed, alive and crackling between them.

Take it back. Flip him. Kill him if he resists.

The command hissed through Tyler’s skull, soft as silk, sharp as a blade, coiling tight in the space between his thoughts. It didn’t shout. It seeped .

Tyler’s breath caught. That was the mission. That had always been the mission. Turn the Jedi Padawan. Or eliminate him.

He’d chosen the first. Told himself he could take his time, seduce Josh into the Dark, whisper corruption into his ear until the Light became nothing but a distant echo. A memory with no weight. He would unravel him with pleasure and promise, mold him into something greater. Something his.

He thought he had control of this game.

But now?

Josh was slipping.

Not falling, not fully, but slipping, grinning like he liked the taste of power without knowing what it would cost. Hovering above Tyler like some wildfire reborn in flesh, eyes flickering red, mouth teasing the edge of cruelty. The Force curling around him like smoke.

And Tyler was the one on his back. Losing ground. Pinned beneath him. Drowning beneath it all.

He clenched his jaw beneath the invisible grip, teeth grinding so hard it hurt. His chest rose too fast. Too shallow. Not from fear, but from something worse: doubt.

This wasn’t what he wanted. Not like this.

Because Josh hadn’t fallen. Not really. He was tasting it. Playing with the Dark like it was a new toy. Like he could wield it without bleeding from it. He was drunk on power, yes, but the Light was still there. Tyler could feel it.

And the worst part?

Josh was enjoying it.

He doesn’t understand the cost, Tyler thought. He hasn’t paid it yet.

But Tyler had. He had bled for it.

And now, Josh was stronger. Untethered. Unafraid. Letting the Dark curl around his tongue without choking on it. While Tyler, Tyler was hesitating. Weakened by his own desire. Still clinging to control. Still hoping.

The voice growled inside him.

You hesitate. You cling to him like a child. And now look at you, beneath him. Powerless. While he plays pretend above you like a god.

It snarled.

You were supposed to lead him into the dark. Not beg for scraps from his hands.

Tyler’s fingers twitched against the mud, nerves burning.

He didn’t want to give in.

Not now. Not while Josh’s mouth hovered just inches from his. Not while Tyler was so close to having him, not broken, not dominated, but chosen . Willingly. That was what Tyler wanted. To be wanted back.

Because if he let go now… if he unleashed that old, raw, monstrous power simmering in his gut then it wouldn’t be seduction anymore.

It would be annihilation.

Josh would either end up dead… or ruined.

And not in the way Tyler wanted to ruin him.

He thought of his last fall. The aftermath. His master dragging him out of the wreckage, blood-slick and barely breathing. The smell of scorched flesh. The way the Force had tasted then. Metallic and ash-drenched. He remembered opening his eyes to a sky choked with smoke.

He remembered not knowing whose blood was on his hands.

Because it hadn’t been him anymore.

Something else had worn his skin, something with a saber in hand and a grin too wide for his own face. A thing made of rage and guilt and every ounce of self-loathing given form.

And now? It was stirring again.

Josh’s fingers tightened on his wrists, anchoring him in the moment, dragging him back from the edge of the Dark, or perhaps pushing him closer. Rain dripped from Josh’s hair, slid down the curve of his jaw, and splattered against Tyler’s cheeks like cold kisses. 

Everything around them was soaked,. Clothes, skin, breath. But the heat between their bodies burned through the damp like wildfire.

Josh leaned down again until their foreheads nearly touched, the strands of his braid sticking to Tyler’s cheek. His breath was hot and deliberate against Tyler’s lips, teasing the edge of a kiss without giving in.

“Now I know why you toyed with me,” Josh murmured, voice low, sinful, every word dipped in slow-burning seduction. “It’s intoxicating. All of this strength beneath my fingertips.”

He pressed harder, and his nails bit into Tyler’s skin, sharp crescents digging past skin. Tyler groaned, half pain, half pleasure, and arched ever so slightly beneath him, as if his body couldn’t decide whether to fight or melt.

Josh’s smile deepened, and he leaned in close enough that Tyler could taste the heat of his breath.

“Now it’s your turn to fight back.”

Tyler’s fingers curled into fists beneath his grasp. His arms trembled with the strain of restraint, with the ache in his joints, with the tension coiled through every inch of him. But his eyes snapped open and locked onto Josh.

“Careful,” he rasped, jaw tightening as the invisible grip eased just enough to let the words slip free. His voice came out ragged, frayed by want and restraint. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

Josh tilted his head slightly, eyes gleaming with red-gold mischief. A predator scenting victory.

“Don’t I?”

It wasn’t arrogance. Not fully. There was something deeper behind it. A flicker of obsession. Curiosity. The thrill of stepping past a line he’d sworn never to cross.

They were both shaking now. Josh, with adrenaline and the addictive buzz of raw power humming through his veins like lightning. Tyler, with tension, his muscles locked, his breathing unsteady, the Dark bubbling beneath his skin, daring him to let go. They were a storm waiting to break.

Tyler forced the rage down. Bit it back. Choked it into silence.

He couldn’t let it loose. Not yet.

He shoved it deep into his stomach, letting it knot and twist like a serpent made of memory, of pain.

Kill him before he kills you. This is not a game you want to play.

The voice, his own voice, older, colder, the one trained by Darth Bourbaki, snarled in his head like a beast rattling its cage.

Tyler clenched his jaw so tight it ached. Not now. Not like this.

He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the way the Force roiled in his chest like a storm surge trying to break its dam.

“What’s the matter, Tyler?” Josh said, feigning concern, and pressed harder into his wrists. The sharp, bone-deep ache made Tyler whimper before he could stop himself. He wasn’t new to pain, it was a language he knew fluently, but this wasn’t combat. This wasn’t control. It was… too close. Too exposed.

Josh leaned down further, voice a murmur in his ear, warm breath ghosting over rain-slick skin.

“The great, all-powerful Sith-apprentice of Darth Bourbaki can’t get a measly Padawan off his hips?”

He ground his body downward with maddening pressure. Hips against hips. The friction was electric, raw and consuming. Tyler gasped, stars flaring behind his eyelids.

“Or,” Josh purred, lips brushing the shell of his ear, “do you not want me off your hips?”

Tyler grit his teeth and groaned.

“As much as I adore this version of you, Padawan,” he breathed, voice ragged, “you are not stronger than me.”

Josh chuckled, a deep, mocking sound that vibrated through Tyler’s spine. It felt like thunder echoing inside his ribcage.

“Seems to me like I am. Unless…” His lips hovered just over Tyler’s, “…you’re holding back on me.”

He rolled his hips again, slow and devastating, and Tyler’s body arched despite himself. Their breaths mingled. Hot, heavy, trembling with restraint.

“But you wouldn’t do that,” Josh whispered. “Right?”

Kill him. Enough of this. He is toying with you. He knows you’re weak. I warned you.

The voice was louder now, surging like a rising tide behind his eyes. Tyler felt his control slipping, the boundary between restraint and ruin beginning to blur.

His eyes opened, unfocused, and dropped to Josh’s lips. Those mocking, perfect lips. Rain ran in thin rivers down Josh’s face, streaking over his scar and dripping from his chin like blood.

Tyler’s fingers twitched, numb and tingling from lack of blood flow. His muscles screamed beneath the strain, his back arched against the cold mud, every nerve on fire. But still, despite the pain, despite the blur edging his vision, he lifted his head. Just barely. Straining.

He reached for a kiss. 

Josh pulled back at the last second. And laughed. Not kindly. Not sweetly. This was cruel. Cold. A jagged dagger twisting between Tyler’s ribs with all the care of a butcher.

Tyler froze, lips parted, breath catching in his throat.

Josh’s hands tightened around his wrists. Hard. His grip became something brutal, something punishing, and Tyler’s bones creaked audibly beneath his skin. He gasped, a sound torn from his throat, not from fear, but from pain so sharp it shocked him back to the surface of his own body.

His hips jerked up again, seeking relief, instinctual and pathetic, and Josh smiled. A slow, victorious smile like he’d just toppled an empire.

Then he rolled his hips forward once more. Deliberate. Dominating. Grinding their cores together as if to hammer the moment home. But this time, Tyler didn’t react.

Not really. Because he wasn’t entirely there anymore.

His eyes fluttered shut. His body went slack beneath Josh for a heartbeat like breath before the plunge. His mind wasn’t here. It was somewhere deeper. Somewhere darker. He was folding inward, spiraling into the center of himself, trying to find the edge between who he was and the other one . 

The thing that lurked behind his anger. The part that Bourbaki had shaped. The part that liked to kill.

He could feel it rising. Scraping its claws along his ribs. Stretching inside his skin.

No...no no no no not now.

He clenched his jaw. Not like this. Not with him.

He tried to ground himself. Focused on the rain, on the earth pressed to his back, on the sharp pain in his wrists. 

But it wasn’t enough. The voice wasn’t whispering anymore. It was shouting. Snarling.

Kill him.You begged for him. Now make him beg for you.

“No,” Tyler breathed, barely audible, his lips moving against nothing.

He opened his eyes.

For a second, they were his again. His real eyes, brown and wild and terrified .

Then the Dark surged up from his gut like a black tide, and the color was swallowed in fire. Red and yellow flared to life in his irises, pulsing like twin suns.

He tried to hold it in. Tried.

But he was already gone.

The Force burst from him like a pressure valve snapping under impossible weight. A shockwave detonated outward with Tyler at its epicenter. Mud exploded into the air, water rippling like a broken mirror, the air cracking with thunder as Josh was flung backward like a ragdoll, ripped off him and hurled across the swamp.

He hit the ground hard and rolled, a grunt lost in the chaos.

Tyler sat up, gasping. Every breath was a growl, every inhale full of fury and rot. Steam rose from his skin where his soaked clothes had flash-dried from the heat of the power. His hands hovered at his sides, fingers twitching, ready to strike again.

His wrists burned. His veins felt electric. His body felt wrong .

And the smile that curled across his lips was not his own. It stretched too wide. Too calm. There was no recognition in it. No humanity. Just satisfaction.

The other version of him, that version, had taken the reins. And Tyler, the real Tyler, was buried deep now, screaming beneath the surface of his own skin as his body rose from the mud like something born again.

—

Josh hit the muddy ground hard, his body sliding across the slick, rain-slicked surface with a wet thud. Pain burst through him instantly, his ribs lit up like a comm channel under fire, and his head swam with white-hot static. 

He wasn’t even sure if it was from the impact just now or from earlier when Tyler had slammed him against a rock during their last clash. All he knew was that everything hurt.

But instead of crumpling beneath it, writhing, crying out, Josh did something else.

He had an idea.

Groaning, he rolled to his side and pushed himself upright to his knees. His fingers trembled slightly as he pressed one hand to his ribs. He closed his eyes, and for the first time, didn’t resist.

He reached for the Dark.

It surged up like a tide, violent but familiar. He guided it, not to strike, not to lash out, but to mend.

A sharp crack echoed in the silence as his ribs snapped back into place, realigned by his will and a surge of Force Healing. The pain faded into a tingling hum. It had been a technique he’d avoided before, afraid that opening himself to the Dark might lead to the point of no return.

But that fear was gone now. It was too late for hesitation.

He stood slowly, every movement smooth and deliberate. Rain slid off his tunic as he wiped the mud from his face, his red-tinged eyes flickering open and immediately meeting a pair of glowing eyes across the clearing. Burning red. Threaded with gold.

Josh’s breath caught.

Tyler stood like a phantom, twin sabers hovering at his sides, freshly pulled from where they had sunk hours ago into the swampy mud. His posture was rigid. Coiled. Lethal.

Josh knew that look. It was the same expression Tyler wore the day they first met. The day Tyler struck down Josh’s master, blade gleaming with blood and fury. It wasn’t just darkness in his eyes.

It was bloodlust.

Josh’s heart slammed once in his chest. And then confusion bled into fear.

Hadn’t he done it? Hadn’t he given in? Hadn’t he opened himself fully, embraced the Dark, allowed Tyler to bring him under?

Then why did it feel like Tyler was about to kill him?

Josh furrowed his brow, something uneasy blooming in his chest as his crimson eyes flickered, briefly, back to brown. Doubt. Conflict. Pain.

Had he not been enough? Had he failed whatever unspoken test Tyler had been playing?

“Tyler…” Josh’s voice cracked, hoarse from the pain still radiating through his ribs, from the weight of confusion pressing down on his chest. The air between them buzzed with charged silence. Rain poured down in heavy sheets, running in rivulets down his face, soaking through his robes. 

He took a hesitant step back, his boot sinking with a soft squelch into the edge of the swamp behind him. The water lapped around his ankles, cold and invasive.

Tyler didn’t answer. Didn’t blink.

His face was unreadable, a mask of shadow and crimson. And then, with a twin snap-hiss , he ignited both sabers. Their crimson blades burst to life, casting an eerie red glow across the battlefield. Rain hissed as it struck the energized plasma, steam curling up around Tyler like smoke from a fire not yet finished burning.

Josh flinched at the sound, heart kicking hard in his chest.

“Have I not become what you wanted?” he asked, quieter now, almost pleading. His voice faltered with every word. “I gave in. I followed you.”

Tyler cocked his head to the side, slow and deliberate, eyes flickering in the light like those of a predator about to strike. The rain traced down his jawline, past the glint of his sabers, past the sliver of a smirk that wasn’t his.

“You followed,” he said, voice layered, his and something else. “But not far enough.”

Josh’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. His foot slipped slightly in the mud behind him.

“I-I embraced it. I felt the Dark. I let go. I thought-” His words collapsed under the weight of his own disbelief. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

Tyler’s gaze sharpened.

“You think I want weakness?” he hissed. “You think because you tasted power once you understand what it means to be Sith?”

He advanced a step, sabers humming, rain cascading over his shoulders like a war god risen from the storm. Josh instinctively took a step back, his foot plunging deeper into the marsh water.

“The Padawan falters once,” Tyler continued, voice rising like a blade unsheathing, “pins down a Sith, and thinks he’s earned a reward?”

He spat the last word like venom, and it cut through Josh more cleanly than any saber.

Then Tyler’s tone dropped, soft and low, the kind of voice reserved for executions.

“You think I’m weak, Jedi. And I will not allow you to believe that.”

Josh shook his head desperately.

“I don’t... I don’t think that. I-I became what you wanted. I abandoned the Light. I pulled from my rage. From grief. From lust-”

“You haven’t abandoned the Light entirely,” Tyler snapped, cutting him off.

Josh’s breath hitched.

“And how are you so sure?”

“Because you didn’t try to kill me,” Tyler said, tone biting and merciless. “You didn’t want to hurt me. You used the Dark Side as an excuse for your emotions.”

Josh blinked, stunned.

“My… emotions?”

Tyler took another step forward, sabers vibrating softly in his grip, their tips humming close to the water’s surface.

“The Force didn’t answer you when you called on it. That terrified you. And the only way back to that connection you lost… was to crawl, desperate, into the Dark Side.”

Josh staggered, stumbling backward another step as the words struck him like a blow to the chest. Rain sloshed around his ankles where he stood on the edge of the swamp, mud tugging at his boots like the past trying to pull him under.

“N–no,” he said, voice cracking. “No. I did this on my own. I chose this.”

But the moment the lie left his lips, he felt it. A flicker.

The Light.

It returned like an old wound aching in the cold. Unwelcome, yet familiar. Not burning, not blinding. Just present. Creeping back through the cracks in his armor, coiling through his veins like a quiet sunrise after too long in shadow. Gentle. Steady. Inevitable.

It brushed up against the flame of the Dark still burning inside him and began to smother it.

Josh’s eyes widened, and he gasped, pressing a hand to his chest as if to hold the shift at bay. The fury. The hunger. The power that had tasted so intoxicating only minutes ago, it dimmed now. Not extinguished. But shaken. Receding.

What have I done?

The teachings of his Master, of the Jedi Order, echoed faintly in his ears like whispers through a temple corridor. The Dark Side is not liberation. It is corruption. Seduction. Destruction masked as desire.

Josh clenched his jaw, heart pounding.

I won’t fall again.

Not like this. Not for him.

But Tyler was watching. Eyes narrowed, sabers humming low in his fists. Expecting weakness. Expecting surrender.

Josh swallowed his shame, locked it deep behind his teeth, and straightened.

Rain slicked across his brow, mingling with sweat, but he stood tall. Tense. Alive.

If Tyler believed he’d fallen, if he saw a Sith when he looked at Josh, then maybe that was his opening. Maybe deception was the only way left to reach him. The only path forward in this battlefield of ghosts and ruin.

Let him believe the mask. Let him think he’s won. 

Josh could wear the monster’s skin if it meant pulling Tyler back from the abyss. Or stopping him if he had to.

“It’s sad, really,” Tyler said, his voice cold as space between stars. The kind of cold that didn't just kill. It preserved.

“The taunting looked good on you. The power. The control. But that wasn’t you, was it?”

His lips twisted into something between pity and loathing.

“Just a boy pretending to wear a monster’s skin.”

Josh braced himself, willing his voice to stay steady even as the Force trembled with tension.

“I… I don’t under-”

“Then pay attention! ” Tyler roared.

His sabers crossed above his head with a sharp snap-hiss, blades blazing crimson, slicing through rain and shadow like twin comets. The ground beneath them shuddered, sending ripples through the swamp. The Force itself responded: churning, wild, and wounded.

Josh flinched, his boot sinking deeper into the cold marsh as he threw one hand up, not in defense, but in plea.

“Tyler! You asked me to come talk to you,” he called out, voice cracking with urgency. “You said that before I blacked out, please, can we just talk?”

But Tyler didn’t stop. Didn’t slow.

He came forward like death incarnate, sabers hissing, eyes glowing like twin stars set to go supernova. Every step was thunder.

“You asked for this,” he growled. “You begged me to fight back. And now you falter?”

Josh took a breath, steadying himself.

“We’ve fought before, countless times. You haven’t killed me. I haven’t killed you. So what’s the point, Tyler? What does more blood prove?”

Tyler stopped, sabers still raised.

“You need to know-”

Josh cut in, voice firm. “That you aren’t weak? I know, Tyler.”

A flicker. A pause.

Tyler’s brow knit ever so slightly. Something behind his eyes faltered.

He stepped close, close enough that Josh could feel the heat of the sabers brushing his skin, the low hum reverberating in his bones. One wrong movement, and he’d be bisected where he stood.

Josh’s voice softened.

“Do you not wonder why I'm not scared of you?"

Tyler didn’t answer.

“You’ve had so many chances to kill me,” Josh whispered. “And yet, here I am.”

Their breath mingled in the downpour. The rain slowed, or maybe time did.

Josh’s eyes locked with his.

“Let’s talk. One-on-one. No fighting. Just... us. ”

Tyler’s arms didn’t lower. But his eyes dimmed. A flicker. The glow in his irises shifted, burned lower.

Josh saw it. Felt it.

A moment. A thread. A connection that hadn’t quite frayed all the way.

And then...

“I knew,” Tyler said, voice quiet and bitter, “you hadn’t let go of the Light entirely.”

With a sudden hiss, Tyler’s saber sliced through the air and connected with Josh’s side in a burst of searing pain.

Josh screamed, collapsing to one knee, hand clutching his side where plasma had torn through flesh. Steam rose from the cauterized wound as rain hissed against it.

He dropped, breath hitching, vision blurring.

His head tipped forward. Dangerously close to the second saber still hovering at his throat.

Close enough to feel it hum against his neck. One flick. One breath. One final word and it would be over.

Josh gasped, pain lancing through his ribs like lightning. His hand trembled where it clutched his side, fingers slick with blood and rain. The world tilted around him. Dimmed. A dull roar rose in his ears, like the sound of a starship rupturing under pressure.

He felt like he was dying. And the terrifying thing was... he didn’t dare pull from the Dark. Or did he?

Somewhere deep inside, it called. Whispered. Pleaded.

Just a little more. Just enough to live. Is that so wrong?

But before he could decide, a boot collided with his chest.

Crack.

Tyler kicked him. Hard.

Josh’s breath fled his lungs as he tumbled backward, splashing into the shallows of the swamp. Cold, filthy water swallowed him whole, closing over his face like a shroud.

“Pathetic, ” Tyler snarled above him. The sabers hissed off, the twin blades folding into silence with a dying sigh.

“A waste of space.”

He stood over the fallen Padawan like a judge passing sentence. Rain streaked through his dark hair, his silhouette stark against the stormlight. The red glow in his eyes faded, but his voice cut even sharper than his blades.

“You are no Sith,” he spat. “And you are no Jedi. You’re just…”

He paused. Something in his throat clenched, like even he couldn’t believe the words he was about to say.

“… nothing. ”

He turned on his heel, sabers deactivated, judgement passed.

“Drown. ”

And he was gone.

The word echoed long after his footsteps faded.

Josh’s body jerked beneath the water, the sudden cold crashing through his system like a detonator charge. Panic overtook him. He clawed toward the surface, but the mud sucked at his limbs. The wound in his side throbbed, hot and bright.

He choked, swallowing a mouthful of murky water, lungs seizing in protest.

This is it. This is where it ends.

Not on the battlefield. Not in glory.

But here. 

His vision blurred as the swamp turned to shadow. The Light felt far away. The Dark was no longer seductive, just cold. Empty. Devoid of meaning.

He deserved this. Didn’t he?

The water pooled over his head.

His limbs stilled.

The ripples faded.

And then...

Nothing.

Just rain.

Falling on an empty marsh.

Falling on a silent swamp.

Where no one was left to watch the last breath of a Jedi Padawan drift to the surface and vanish.

Chapter Text

Josh’s eyes fluttered shut, the image of the murky swamp growing distant. Sinking into the vast, devouring blackness behind his eyelids. He couldn’t breathe. The water surged into his lungs, each gasp more fire than air.

Pain pulsed from his side where Tyler’s saber had pierced him, a dull, unrelenting throb that echoed with every heartbeat.

His body convulsed once, then again, before stilling, suspended beneath the surface. Water filled every space inside him, bursting like static behind his eyes. Consciousness wavered. Bubbles floated from his parted lips, rising to the lightless canopy above.

This was death. He was certain.

Until he heard it.

“Joshua…”

The voice was impossibly clear. Not distorted by water, nor muffled by distance. It rang out like a bell in the dark.

Josh’s eyes slowly opened, the swamp’s rot stinging them instantly. And there, hovering just before him, was the faint, shimmering figure of Master Keons. His robes flowed gently in the water, untouched by it, glowing faint blue like starlight.

Josh tried to speak, but no sound came. It was as if he weren’t in his body anymore, just a flicker of presence, tethered by pain and memory.

Keons’ expression was soft. Not angry. Not disappointed. Just sad. The kind of sadness that settled in the eyes of someone who had given everything, only to watch it slip away. His voice, quiet and full of sorrow, echoed in the water around them.

“My Padawan. Is this truly how you fall?”

Josh wanted to respond, but his body wouldn’t move. The cold clutched at him and water filled his lungs. Darkness tugged at his mind like a tide.

Yet the memory of Sacarver’s voice rose through the haze from the day of Keons’ death.

“His sacrifice was already worth something,” she had said, unwavering. “It preserved your life. And what you choose to do with that life, that is what will honor him… or betray him.”

Josh wanted to scream. To cry out that the Force had abandoned him, that he had been forsaken. That Tyler had turned him inside out and left nothing behind. He had failed. Utterly. And he no longer deserved to wear the title of Jedi.

“The dark side does not drown you, Joshua,” Keons said gently, as if hearing the thoughts directly. He knelt beside Josh’s limp form in the water, his spectral robes drifting, untouched by the current.

“Yes, you let it in. You gave it your trust. But even now, it has not claimed you. Not fully.”

Josh's body jerked violently, another seizure wracking him from the inside. The cold crushed every bone, smothered every nerve. 

Keons reached forward. His fingers, translucent and glowing faintly blue, pressed against Josh’s chest. Josh knew he was a ghost, a memory bound in the Force. And yet, somehow, impossibly, he felt it. The warmth of a touch he had thought lost forever.

“The Force flows through all things,” Keons whispered, his eyes never leaving Josh’s face. “You know this. I taught you this. Even as a boy, you felt it before you believed it.”

Images sparked behind Josh’s eyes. Sunlight spilling into the training halls, the snap of practice sabers, Keons’ voice rising in laughter as Josh fell flat on his back. The scent of ancient stone and warm robes. The sound of his own name, spoken with pride.

“You have not been abandoned,” Keons said, stronger now. “The Force did not leave you. It tested you. It revealed what lies beneath the surface. And even though you failed that test, the Force forgives.”

A pause followed, long and aching.

“As do I.”

Josh shuddered. A final bubble escaped his lips, trailing upward. The cold still surrounded him. The wound on his side still pulsed with pain. But deep within, past the terror and regret, something stirred.

Something warm. A flicker of light. Small, but real.

He had been pulled toward the dark. Seduced by Tyler’s voice, by false empathy, by half-truths wrapped in sorrow. He had tasted power and felt the illusion of clarity. But that clarity was a lie.

Tyler’s lies.

He had told him the Jedi abandoned him. That they had left him to rot on Raxus Prime, alone and unwanted. That the Sith had saved him, that no one else came. But it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.

The Jedi didn’t leave children behind. They didn’t leave potential unguarded in the hands of the enemy. They had taken in Josh on Naboo. Raised him in the temple. Gave him purpose, and a life full of promise. 

They would have done the same for Tyler.

They would have.

Josh clenched his jaw. The ache in his chest deepened, not from pain, but from clarity. From betrayal.

Tyler had manipulated him. Twisted his compassion. Made him doubt the Jedi. Made him weak. This had always been his plan, from the beginning. Seduce the Council’s Padawan. Drag him into the dark. Use him.

And Josh had fallen for it. But not anymore. This was not his end. He refused to let his story be written by the hand of a Sith.

He had stumbled. He had bled. But he could rise. 

He would meditate. He would seek the guidance of the Council. He would rebuild. Because if he didn’t, Keons’ sacrifice would be for nothing.

He would not betray his Master’s memory. Not now. Not ever.

Keons gave the faintest smile, the kind that held lifetimes of pride and sorrow. His eyes gleamed with something wordless, as if he could feel the shift in Josh’s spirit. As if he could hear the oath silently echoing in his Padawan’s heart.

He placed a hand on Josh’s shoulder and at once, breath rushed back into Josh’s lungs. The numbness in his limbs ebbed, replaced by tingling fire. His heart pounded again, slow but steady. Strength returned. Not just to his body, but to his will.

Keons’ voice was soft, but it filled the depths of the swamp like a beacon of light.

“May the Force be with you, Padawan. And remember, I am always with you.”

His image flickered. First at the edges. Then through the center. The light dimmed, pulled back into the current of the Force. And then he was gone, swallowed by the shadows and silence of the water.

Josh floated in stillness for one last moment. Everything felt raw. His skin, his thoughts, his soul. He had been broken apart, piece by piece. Yet in that breaking, something had rebuilt itself. Forged stronger. Clearer.

A jolt of life surged through his limbs. Where there had been weight and cold, now there was movement. His arms kicked, thrashing through the thick water. His eyes snapped open, burning from the swamp’s rot. But he didn't stop.

He didn’t care whether it was the Force that had answered him or the last gift of his Master, Josh couldn’t say. All he knew was that he was not ready to die.

His arms swam, weak but determined, carving through the dark water. Fire burned in his lungs. His side screamed in pain, but he kicked harder. He moved upward, toward light, toward air. His fingers broke the surface first, then his face, where he drew in a ragged breath, half-choke and half-gasp, before collapsing against the muddy bank.

His nails dug into wet soil as he clawed forward, dragging his torso free. Water streamed from his tunic, pooling beneath him. He rolled to his side, body convulsing violently. His stomach heaved, forcing up the swamp water in sick, painful bursts. His breath came in gasps, his chest rising and falling with desperate urgency. Mud clung to his face. Rot clung to his skin.

And still, he was alive.

For a long moment, Josh lay there. His lower half remained submerged, but he didn’t care. His hand pressed against the damp ground, his cheek resting on the back of his arm. The weight of the world settled into him again. Pain was there, but so was purpose. A heartbeat. A will.

He sat up slowly, shoulders trembling, tunic torn and soaked through. Blood soaked the fabric at his side, hot and insistent. His hand trembled as he pushed back the familiar length of his Padawan braid behind his ear.

He stared out over the water. Mist coiled above the surface like silent ghosts. There was no sign of Tyler. No sound of footsteps. Nothing.

Josh blinked hard, water and tears blurring the world. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose. The air stung. He exhaled slowly through his mouth, steadying his mind.

What had he become? How close had he come to losing himself? He had let the darkness in. Let it whisper, twist, and wound. Let it plant doubt where faith had once lived. 

The Jedi had raised him. Given him purpose. Home. And he had let that slip through his fingers like the very swamp water he now lay in.

He shook his head, jaw clenched, and wiped at his face with a muddy sleeve. It only smeared the filth across his skin.

His hand pressed to his side and he winced sharply. The wound pulsed, deep and burning. He furrowed his brow, grit his teeth, and closed his eyes again. Not to escape, but to reach. To call.

The Force was distant. Flickering. But it was still there.

Please, he thought. Help me.

He steadied his breathing and reached inward, past the pain, past the fear, into the current that connected all living things. And waited for the light to return.

Within seconds, warmth surged through him. The wound at his side began to close, the torn flesh knitting itself together. Josh inhaled sharply, the sensation raw and unfamiliar despite having used his healing ability before. It never felt natural. Not completely.

Still, he breathed through the pain and whispered a quiet thank you into the Force. To Keons.

With effort, he pushed himself up onto unsteady legs. His knees buckled slightly, like a newborn fathier taking its first steps. He leaned into the motion, adjusting his weight as he turned and extended one hand outward. Mud shifted. Something stirred beneath the surface.

Then, with a wet snap, his lightsaber tore free from the muck and flew into his open palm. He caught it and held it tightly, grounding himself with its familiar weight. A small smile touched his lips before he clipped it back onto his belt.

The swamp around him remained silent, heavy with rain and mist. He stumbled through it, brushing against low-hanging branches and colliding with slick tree trunks as he made his way back to camp. His body ached with every step.

At last, he reached the campsite. His tent still stood where he left it, with scattered crates surrounding it like forgotten relics. He limped toward the firepit and knelt beside it, flicking on the low-burning plasma coil nestled within the repurposed fuel drum. Soft flames sparked to life, crackling quietly.

The warmth was incredible compared to the icy, stagnant muck he had just escaped. His fingers were nearly blue, stiff and trembling from the cold. Slowly, he extended his hands toward the flame, letting the heat crawl back into his skin.

When the numbness faded enough, he stood and peeled off his soaked tunic to. The fabric of his pants clung to him.

A sudden rustle in the dense brush behind him made Josh’s head snap up. However, he was too focused on the heat. Too cold and sore to care about whatever creature might be lurking beyond the mist.

He inhaled deeply through his nose, damp air coating his lungs with mildew and decay. Then he dropped onto a supply crate with a quiet grunt, rubbing his hands together and pressing them close to the low-burning plasma coil. The fire crackled gently, casting a soft, flickering glow on the inside of his arms and the sheen of swamp water still clinging to his skin.

Another rustle. Louder.

Josh tensed. He didn’t turn. Not right away.

When he finally did, it was already too late.

Tyler stepped through the underbrush, ducking beneath a vine-heavy branch, his boots squelching in the mud. He moved with eerie calm, the mist parting around him like it feared touching him. 

His clothes were damp and torn in places, fresh lines of blood scraped onto his cheeks and temples. But it was his eyes that stopped Josh cold.

Not glowing, not like before, not like when he'd stood on the edge of the water and told Josh to die, to drown.

These eyes were worse. They were a deep, unnatural red, as if blood had seeped into the whites and stained the irises from within. There was no manic brightness now. No fire. Just cold intent.

Josh flinched before he could stop himself. A jolt of fear cracked down his spine like lightning. Real fear. Not the grief-laced confusion he’d felt when Tyler had betrayed him. This was the kind of fear that made the air feel too thin. The kind that made your body instinctively brace for death.

Because Tyler looked like he could kill him. Would kill him. And this time, Josh knew he wouldn’t hesitate.

Tyler’s gaze raked over him in silence, slow and deliberate. His eyes flicked up and down Josh’s undressed torso, lingering on every inch of exposed skin, from his bare shoulders to his damp pants.

Josh shifted, suddenly hyper-aware of how vulnerable he was. The fire cast shadows on his stomach, highlighting his muscles. His legs, still coated in grime and shivering despite the heat, refused to move.

His cheeks flushed, hot with shame, but it wasn’t embarrassment that froze him.

It was memory. Tyler’s voice echoed inside his head, cruel and final.

“Drown.”

Josh’s jaw clenched. He forced his shoulders back and lifted his chin, trying to meet Tyler’s gaze evenly, though his heart was hammering in his throat so loud he could almost hear it.

“Stay back,” he managed, voice hoarse but steady.

His eyes flicked to where his saber lay, next to his tunic top. Just within reach, if he moved quickly enough. But when he looked back at Tyler, the Sith’s expression was not what he expected.

He looked…sad. Forlorn? Scared?

Tyler’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. He reached up with a trembling hand and wiped the blood streaked across his cheek. His fingers left red smears along his jaw. 

Josh saw it then. The slight tremor in the man’s hand, the way his shoulders hunched inward as though holding himself together by will alone.

Tyler stepped forward. One dragging, uneven step. Then another.

Josh saw the limp and felt his breath catch.

“I said stay b-” he began, but the word died in his mouth.

Tyler collapsed.

His knees hit the wet earth first with a dull, sodden thump. The rest of him followed, folding forward as if every muscle had simply stopped listening. For a moment he didn’t move at all, sprawled face down in the muck.

Josh lurched to his feet. Instinct overrode every lingering fear. He crossed the space in three steps and dropped to a crouch beside him. His fingers closed around Tyler’s shoulder and turned him gently onto his back, mindful not to jostle any unseen wounds.

Mud clung to Tyler’s cheek, the hollow beneath his eye, the parted line of his mouth. Josh leaned in, close enough to feel the faint warmth of breath ghosting against his jaw. 

He was still alive. Josh eased back a fraction and looked down, seeing Tyler clearly for the first time since the fight. 

The mask of anger and power was gone. What remained was something frail, almost unrecognizable.

Deep claw marks raked across his temples, blood seeping in thin rivulets that mixed with the grime. His skin was pale except for the livid scar crossing the bridge of his nose. His eyelashes, long and dark, were stuck together with moisture. Rain or tears, Josh couldn’t tell. Each breath that left his mouth was shallow and ragged, a tremor running through his chest with every exhale.

He looked…innocent. And in a way Josh couldn’t deny, beautiful.

Josh exhaled shakily and lifted his eyes to scan the trees around them, searching for any sign of movement. Whatever had clawed him could still be nearby. But the undergrowth remained silent. Watching. Waiting.

He shifted and slipped an arm beneath Tyler’s shoulders, lifting his head from the mud and resting it carefully across his lap. The movement drew a quiet sound of pain from Tyler’s throat, but he didn’t wake.

Josh brushed a few damp strands of hair off his forehead and found more cuts hidden beneath. Whatever had done this had not stopped until it meant to kill.

His hand hovered there for a heartbeat before he pressed his fingertips lightly to the clammy skin. He closed his eyes, reached inward, and called to the Force. It came slowly, uncertain at first, like a flickering candle. But it was there.

Warmth gathered beneath his palm.

The wounds began to mend, closing in thin, pale lines as the blood clotted and the swelling eased. The Force flowed between them, filling the hollow spaces where pain had rooted itself. Beneath his touch, Tyler’s breathing steadied.

Then Tyler stirred.

Josh’s eyes opened just as Tyler’s fluttered, lashes trembling like the last leaves in a dying storm. For a split second, his gaze was hazy. Disoriented, distant. Then it locked onto Josh’s.

Josh froze. His hand hovered just inches above Tyler’s cheek, caught in limbo. He didn’t dare move.

Tyler didn’t speak. He only stared, his chest rising and falling in shallow, erratic breaths. The firelight cast long shadows across his face. His eyes, once so terrifying in their red glow, then golden-rimmed and murderous, now held something…different. 

Somewhere between maroon and chestnut.

Josh told himself it was brown. He needed to believe it was brown.

For a long, brittle moment, the silence was all they shared.

Tyler blinked, then let his gaze drift downward, trailing across Josh’s torso, noting every old scar, fresh bruise, and the faint outline of ribs beneath his skin. His brow furrowed slightly.

“W-Why,” Tyler started, voice low and dry, barely there. He winced, his body tensing. He looked like he’d been dragged through hell and back. “Why aren’t you dead?”

Josh inhaled through his nose, steadying the flicker of something dangerous and hopeful in his chest. He closed his eyes for a beat, considering his answer.

“Look at me.” Tyler’s voice came again, rougher now. Less command, more instinct. It wasn’t the same voice that had snarled drown before shoving him into the murk. It was thinner. Human.

Josh opened his eyes and obeyed. Their gazes met again. Josh let his glance linger, just for a second, on Tyler’s lips, split and bloodied.

“As I said before, Sith,” Josh murmured, a faint, sardonic smile touching his lips. “I am stronger than you.”

Tyler let out a dry, broken chuckle, but it ended in another wince. He clenched his jaw, a tremor of pain rippling through him.

“Tyler, what happened to you?” Josh asked, his voice softening. “What attacked you?”

Tyler’s expression darkened. His shoulders stiffened, the lines of his body going rigid. He looked down, away from Josh, face flushing. Not from fever or injury this time, but something sharper. Embarrassment? Shame? Josh couldn’t tell.

He said nothing. Instead, he slowly pulled himself up, disentangling from Josh’s lap. His limbs shook with effort, his movements careful and deliberate, like he wasn’t quite sure he trusted his body yet.

Josh watched him stand, heart pounding. Not just from fear, but from a growing certainty that the man in front of him was not the same one who had left him for dead in the swamp.

Or maybe he was. And that was the most terrifying part of all.

Josh stood, mud coating his pants like a second skin. He felt filthy. Inside and out. The swamp clung to him and he shivered despite the nearby heat. 

He backed up slowly, giving Tyler space, unsure if he was about to be attacked again or just torn apart with words.

Tyler said nothing at first. He moved to stand by the plasma coil, its soft blue flames flickering against his face, casting eerie shadows across his features. He looked ethereal in a way that made Josh’s heart stutter.

He glanced at the fire, then back up at Josh, as if trying to see through him.

“Jedi,” Tyler said, venom on his tongue. “How did you not die?”

It was the same question from earlier, but this time, Josh felt the weight behind it. The frustration. The disbelief. Maybe even the fear.

Josh swallowed hard and looked down at the swampy ground before raising his gaze.

“I...I don’t know.”

Tyler’s eyes narrowed.

“Liar.”

He began to pace, slowly, boots sinking slightly into the wet earth with each step.

“What is there to hide at this point, Padawan?” he sneered. “You know my past. You know the rot at the heart of the Jedi. You’ve felt the pull of the Dark Side. What else could you possibly be keeping from me?”

Josh could feel his pulse pounding in his throat. The truth was, he wasn’t hiding anything. And maybe that made it worse. Because if Tyler didn’t believe him, then there was nothing to anchor them to even the most fragile thread of trust.

“I am not lying to you,” Josh said, voice cracking slightly. “Tyler, I genuinely do not know why I survived. I should have drowned. You wanted me to drown.”

Tyler didn’t flinch, but something passed through his expression. Too fast to catch.

Josh stepped forward, just a little.

“What does it matter? You tried to kill me. And you failed.”

A sharp scoff left Tyler’s lips.

“Yeah,” he muttered, more to himself than to Josh. “Yeah, I failed. Sure.”

But there was something else buried beneath his voice. More than bitterness, more than bravado. A fracture. A thread of shame twisted into the words, one that made Josh sit straighter.

Josh stepped forward through the dim light. The fire from the plasma coil hissed and shimmered beside him, casting eerie, flickering shadows across his face.

He took a seat on a supply crate, wincing slightly. Goosebumps danced across his chest and arms, but the discomfort was distant. Muted by the strange stillness inside him.

There was always a storm raging in Josh, but tonight, something had quieted. Something had… settled. He was calm, unnervingly so, even as he sat within reach of the very man who had tried to end him.

He sighed, dragging a tired hand down his face, as if trying to wipe away the last few days along with the sweat and grime.

“I do not know your past, Tyler,” he said at last, the words heavier than they should’ve been. Tyler shifted slightly, undoing the clasp of his cloak and letting it fall to the side. He moved with care, like each motion carried weight. The fabric rustled softly as he laid it on the opposite crate, then slowly sat down across from Josh.

The fire crackled between them. The shadows on Tyler’s face danced in time with it, his eyes catching the flame, flashing red, but only from the reflection this time.

“I know only what I’ve been told,” Josh continued. “And what I’ve seen.”

Tyler didn’t look at him. His eyes stayed on the fire. His jaw twitched.

“You know enough,” he said, his voice raw. Hoarse. “Do you not?”

Josh watched him closely. There was a stillness to Tyler now that hadn’t been there before. The edge was gone from his shoulders. The mask was thinner. And yet, it didn’t make sense. 

This man. This creature who had pinned him down and nearly drowned him in rage hours ago… now sat slouched and silent.

It was like watching a Sith Lord speak after slaughter. That quiet, eerie calm in the wake of something violent. Like witnessing light flicker again in a place long overtaken by shadow. 

Josh blinked slowly, his eyes tracking the man across from him like he was a predator that might pounce at any second. The fire crackled between them, casting flickers of orange and gold across Tyler’s sharp cheekbones, his dark red eyes catching the flame like twin embers. It was night and day. Man and monster. Ghost and flame.

The question burrowed into Josh’s chest like a slow-burning ember:

Which one is real?

The beast that left him to drown, or the man sitting across from him?

“I do not,” Josh finally said, answering the question Tyler had thrown at him. His voice was steady, but his shoulders were tight with tension. “And you. You know nothing of my past.”

Tyler’s smirk curved slowly across his lips. He let out a low chuckle, tilting his head as he laced his fingers together, elbows on his knees like he had all the time in the world. Like none of this mattered.

“I know you’re a Padawan. A gifted one, at that,” he said, his eyes flicking back to the fire instead of looking at Josh. “The Council’s golden boy, correct?”

Josh scoffed and shook his head, turning his gaze to the flame.

“In the past, sure. If they knew what I’ve done… what I planned to do… I’d be cast from the Order before I could take another breath.”

Tyler clicked his tongue, the sound sharp and disapproving.

“And that doesn’t frighten you?”

Josh didn’t answer right away. His eyes drifted to the patch of grass beneath his boots, watching a flickering beetle crawl across a broken twig. He swallowed.

“I shouldn’t feel fear,” he said softly. “It’s not the Jedi way.” He lifted his head then, meeting Tyler’s eyes. “I have to control my emotions. Not let them dictate my actions.”

Tyler let out a bitter laugh.

“That’s rich,” he snapped, the words practically spat across the fire. “Especially after everything that happened earlier.”

Josh flinched at the venom in his voice.

Tyler looked away, jaw tight. The mention of the Jedi code was like poison in his mouth.

“You speak of the Jedi like they’re kin to you. Like they’ve never let you bleed. I don’t… I can’t wrap my head around that. You were so quick to doubt them, to run from everything you’ve been raised on. All because a Sith whispered in your ear.” He shook his head slowly, disgusted. “Doesn’t that make everything they taught you feel like a lie? A story to keep you obedient?”

Josh lowered his gaze again, the weight of Tyler’s words sinking in like stones in his chest.

“And what have the Sith taught you?” he asked, voice even. Confident despite the doubt licking at his bones.

Tyler’s eyes narrowed, the firelight flickering across his scarred cheekbone. 

“They taught me to survive. To harness my pain and use it, not bury it beneath some code. They taught me that strength isn’t born from peace, it’s forged in fire. In loss. In the dark.” He leaned forward, voice tightening. “They made me strong. Strong enough to fight for myself. To stop waiting for someone to save me.”

Josh’s jaw clenched. 

“They turned you into a weapon before you even knew who you were. Or who you could become. You speak of the Jedi as indoctrinators, but the Sith took you and broke you to mold you into something they could use. Is that not the same?”

Tyler scoffed, shaking his head.

“So you admit it, then? That the Jedi took you, formed you, shaped you into what you are today?”

“I never denied that,” Josh said quietly. “You see it as a bad thing. I see it as being given an opportunity. A purpose.”

Tyler tilted his head, eyes gleaming.

“Did your family see it that way?”

Josh stiffened. His stomach twisted.

“I-” he blinked, suddenly unsure of his own voice. “I don’t know.”

Tyler didn’t let up.

“They never got the chance, did they? They were told. Not asked. A Jedi shows up at your door, says your child is Force-sensitive, and just like that, your son is gone. Gone forever. A life ripped away in the name of balance.”

Josh felt a hollow ache open in his chest. Tyler’s voice, once sharp with anger, was now quieter. Still cutting, but almost sorrowful.

“They don’t let you say goodbye. They don’t let you visit. They don’t even let you remember them. You grow up in sterile halls, taught to sever every connection that ever meant something to you. Taught that love is dangerous. That missing someone is weakness. That grief is a sin. And you still think that’s not evil?”

Josh’s throat tightened, but he had no words.

“You call it opportunity,” Tyler continued, bitterly. “I call it erasure. They strip away your identity and call it peace. They take children from their homes and shape them into Jedi before they even know what it means to be alive. They call it destiny, but what it really is…is theft. And the worst part? They make you grateful for it.”

Josh looked away, heart pounding in his chest.

“You want to talk about indoctrination?” Tyler asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Look in a mirror.”

The both of them sat there in silence, the fire crackling between them, casting flickering shadows on their faces as their words lingered, heavy in the smoke-scented air.

Josh stared into the flames, jaw tight. “What about your family?” he asked suddenly.

Tyler’s eyes dropped again, lashes low, his mouth pulling into something sharp and hollow.

“There wasn’t much of one,” he said quietly. “Raxus Prime chewed through them early. I was alone by the time I could walk.”

His fingers curled into his tunic sleeve, voice turning brittle.

“The junkfields weren’t just scraps and rust. Merc crews came through. Drunk on spice, drunk on bloodlust. One of them cornered me in an alley. Broken hyperdrives all around. I thought I was going to die.”

He paused, throat working around the next words like they tasted wrong.

“I don’t know how it happened. Just that something inside me snapped. He dropped without a mark on him. Screaming like something was clawing through his mind.”

The fire crackled, and for a moment, all Josh could hear was Tyler’s breathing.

“That’s when Bourbaki’s agents showed up,” Tyler finished. “Guess I made enough noise to catch the right kind of attention.”

He gave a dry, joyless laugh.

“I don’t even remember what my mother looked like.”

Josh blinked slowly, throat tight. He didn’t want to feel anything, but he did. Somehow, against everything he believed, he felt something that almost resembled empathy, without even needing the Force to pull it out of him. 

The same man who had nearly killed him, who had cut down Master Keons without hesitation, who probably left trails of blood and smoke in his wake, was making Josh feel sorry for him. Was it a trick? Was it manipulation? Or…was it real?

“How do you know so much about the Jedi?” Josh asked, voice cautious.

Tyler gave a soft, humorless laugh.

“Keep your friends close,” he murmured, “and your enemies closer.”

He looked up, eyes reflecting the firelight like burning embers.

“My Master taught me everything I needed to know about them. Their hierarchy. Their code. Their hypocrisies. He made sure I understood the kind of people we were fighting.”

Josh narrowed his eyes slightly.

“So he filled your head with fear. Taught you to hate.”

“He taught me to see,” Tyler countered sharply. “He showed me the reality you were too blind to question.” He leaned forward, voice shaking now with something between fury and grief. “You talk about opportunity. About purpose. But what kind of purpose is built on erasing who you were?”

Josh’s throat tightened again. He’d heard those criticisms before, of course. Whispers. Rumors. The Jedi Code required detachment. Letting go. But he'd always believed it was for the greater good, for balance.

Wasn’t it?

“We weren’t taken,” Josh said quietly. “We were chosen.”

Tyler’s laugh was cold this time.

“Chosen by who? You were a child. You didn’t choose anything.” He shook his head, bitterness leaking through every word. “Let me guess. They told you it was your destiny before you even knew what the word meant.”

Josh didn’t flinch, but he didn’t meet Tyler’s eyes either.

“I was eight when the Jedi found me,” he said quietly.

Tyler scoffed. Josh went on anyway, his voice low, almost like he was telling a story from someone else’s life.

“I was born on Naboo. My family worked the land. Just farmers. We grew meiloorun and bloomedia, raised livestock, drank rainwater filtered through clay jars. My mom made stew every night. My dad taught me how to mend fences and wake with the birds.” He smiled faintly, but it didn’t last. “I used to think the whole galaxy was just sunrises and mud between my toes.”

He exhaled slowly.

“Then the Jedi came. Told my parents I had potential. That I was meant for more than the farm.”

Tyler’s jaw clenched.

“And they let you go?”

Josh nodded.

“They were proud. Scared, too, I think, but they believed the Jedi. Believed in the greater good. I didn’t understand what it meant until the ship took off and I couldn’t see the lake anymore.”

There was a long silence. The fire crackled.

“They dressed it up,” Tyler said finally. “Wrapped it in words like purpose and service. But it was still a theft.”

Josh didn’t argue.

“Did you ever go back?” Tyler asked.

Josh shook his head slowly.

“Wasn’t allowed. The fields would’ve felt like a prison, anyways.”

Tyler studied him, brow furrowed.

“So what? You traded one cage for another?”

Josh met his gaze then, the corner of his mouth twitching in something like a grim smile.

“Maybe. But at least in this one, I could try to make something better. I could help people.”

Tyler didn’t answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and strange.

“I helped people too. In a different way, of course.” He blinked slowly, like the weight of old memories sat behind his eyes.

They sat there, quietly. Two sides of the same coin, mirroring each other. The silence wasn’t hostile, but heavy, full of things neither knew how to say.

Josh looked up and stared at Tyler. 

“Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if we weren’t chosen?”

Tyler scoffed almost instantly.

“Taken.”

Josh rolled his eyes.

“Chosen.”

“Taken,” Tyler repeated, voice sharper now. 

Josh didn’t argue that point. He simply nodded, lips pressed into a tight line.

Tyler let out a sigh, his posture slumping as the tension slipped out of his shoulders.

“I would’ve been dead, I think. Not much of a life on Raxus Prime for children. I was skinny, frail.” He glanced at the grass, then offered a dry smile. “If not dead, I would’ve made a hell of a thief, I think.”

Josh nodded thoughtfully, like he could picture it.

“And you, Jedi?” Tyler prompted, shifting the weight off himself.

Josh bit his bottom lip.

“A farmer. Obviously. A quiet, peaceful life.”

Tyler stared at him, incredulous.

“And yet you thank the Jedi for taking you away from that.” He shook his head. “I will never understand.”

Josh’s expression shifted, like he wasn’t sure if he should defend it.

“It’s complicated.”

“It always is with your kind,” Tyler muttered.

“No, I mean it,” Josh said. “If I’d stayed on Naboo, I might’ve lived peacefully. Or maybe I would’ve died before I ever got to do anything that mattered.”

“You think this life matters?” Tyler asked, eyes sharp now. “Fighting, losing everyone you know, carrying guilt you didn’t ask for?”

Josh’s jaw tensed.

“It matters because we try. Because we don’t just take. We protect. The Jedi taught me that. Taught me to serve something greater than myself.”

Tyler scoffed.

“Greater? You call that greater? You serve a council that hides behind rules so tight they strangle you. You bury your emotions, you deny attachment, you call love dangerous. How is that greater?”

Josh’s voice rose without meaning to, the firelight casting sharp shadows across his determined face.

“Because without discipline, power corrupts. I’ve seen it happen too many times. The Sith fall precisely because they let their feelings rule them, because they chase strength without regard for the cost.”

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his breath hitching with the weight of his conviction.

Tyler’s eyes flashed with a mix of disdain and something rawer as he shot back.

“And the Jedi fall because they refuse to feel at all.” His tone was sharp, biting, like a wound reopened. “They pretend emotions don’t exist until they explode in destructive ways. The Sith don’t hide it. We embrace it. My anger made me strong. My fear kept me alive. My love...” He faltered for a moment, blinking away something unspoken. “My love would give me purpose.”

Josh hesitated, the fight in him wavering like a candle flickering in a storm. His voice dropped, soft but steady. 

“Love can give you purpose,” he admitted, “but when it turns to possession, obsession… it destroys everything it touches. It blinds you.”

Tyler tilted his head, the shadows deepening around his sharp features as he studied Josh closely.

“You speak of love like it is something you have truly experienced. Though the Code outlaws it for you Jedi. What do you know of love, Padawan?”

Josh swallowed hard, the flickering flames reflecting in his eyes as his gaze dropped to the fire’s embers. 

“I’ve felt things more deeply than most Jedi, because of my Force empathy. I can sense emotions buried deep inside others. Fear, hope, despair, love. It’s a gift, but also a curse. It makes it harder to keep attachments at bay, harder to follow the strict detachment the Order demands. To not care would be to turn off a part of myself.”

Tyler’s eyes narrowed, a shadow of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“So you judge the Sith for their attachments,” he said, voice low and laced with irony, “yet you carry your own chains. Hypocritical, don’t you think? If you’ve known love, if you’ve felt it tear at you, how can you condemn others for surrendering to it?”

Josh’s jaw clenched tightly. The fire crackled between them, casting flickering shadows across his face, as if the flames themselves were reacting to the heat between their words. 

He stared into the fire for a long beat, then lifted his eyes to meet Tyler’s, the weight of truth settling uneasily in his chest.

“I–I don’t condemn others. I just...”

“But you do,” Tyler cut in sharply, his voice slicing through the night like a blade. “The Jedi do. That is your code , is it not? Love is forbidden. Never to be felt. Never to be embraced. No attachments. No family. No marriage. No devotion beyond the Order. And yet here you sit, confessing you’ve known love. That you’ve felt it.”

He leaned forward, the firelight catching the sharp angles of his face, making his eyes glow with something feral.

“You say you don’t judge. But your very existence spits in the face of what you were sworn to be.”

Josh flinched like he’d been struck, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. 

Tyler tilted his head, eyes glinting with something colder now, something triumphant.

“I was right, earlier,” he said, voice low, venom threading every word. “You’re no Jedi.”

Josh said nothing, chest rising and falling with shallow, silent breaths.

“But you’re no Sith either,” Tyler continued, almost a whisper now.

He let the silence stretch, then smiled slowly. It wasn’t warm. His sharp canines poked through just enough to hint at danger.

“So, what are you, Joshua?” 

Chapter Text

“So then, what are you, Joshua?”

Tyler’s voice was low, probing, edged with mockery.

The firelight from the plasma coils threw jagged shadows across grass. Their duel was over, for now, but the tension between them hummed louder than any saber.

Josh’s breath steadied.

“I am a Jedi,” he said quietly, with a conviction that trembled but did not break. His gaze lifted, locking on Tyler’s blood-red eyes. “Like my father before me.”

Tyler tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. 

“Didn’t you say your father was a farmer?”

Josh hesitated, jaw tightening.

“…He was.” He lowered his eyes for a moment, voice roughening. “But my Master… my Master became my father in every way that mattered. In all ways except blood.”

When he looked up again, Tyler was watching him. His mask seemed to crack. The sneer was gone. In its place lingered something Josh had never seen in him before. Guilt. Regret. Maybe even sorrow.

Josh swallowed hard, unsettled.

Could he reach that hidden part? Could he strip away the Sith apprentice and find the boy underneath? The boy who had once been innocent, once cared, before the darkness took hold?

Tyler’s voice was thin when it finally came.

“And by striking Keons down… I made you an orphan, did I not?”

Josh’s shoulders sagged. He drew in a slow breath, and nodded. 

“In a way.”

The fire crackled between them. Neither spoke for a long moment. The silence was heavier than any blade.

Then Tyler broke it, a dry chuckle slipping past his lips.

“A mirror.”

Josh frowned. 

“What?”

Tyler leaned forward, eyes glinting with a strange mix of pride and despair. 

“You and I. Jedi and Sith. Light and Dark. We are the same reflection, only turned upon itself.”

Josh frowned at the thought, but the words stuck like burrs in his mind. And the more he turned them over, the more truth he found. They were alike. Both stubborn. Both loyal to their cause, to their people. Both born strong in the Force, gifted from a young age.

He exhaled slowly, then gave a small nod. 

“Perhaps you’re right… for once.” A faint chuckle escaped him.

Tyler didn’t return it. His gaze moved, fixed on the fire, flames flickering in the reflection of his red eyes. The light caught on the jagged claw marks carved across his temples, darkened with dried blood.

Josh tilted his head, studying him. 

“Tyler, what happened to you?” 

Tyler’s eyes snapped toward him, sharp, defensive. 

“That’s a loaded question, Padawan. Care to be more specific?”

Josh’s chin lifted toward the wounds.

“Your temples.”

For a moment, Tyler didn’t move. Then, slowly, he raised a hand, brushing fingertips across the ridges of torn flesh.

“Probably from our duel,” he said dismissively.

Josh shook his head.

“No. Those weren’t there when I fell into the water. They only appeared once you came back from the forest.”

A shadow flickered in Tyler’s gaze, and his eyes narrowed.

“Observant one, aren’t you?”

Josh dropped his eyes to the ground, then forced himself to meet Tyler’s stare again.

“Did something get to you out there?”

For a long heartbeat, there was only the crackle of the fire and the drone of swamp insects. Then Tyler gave a low, humorless chuckle.

“You think an animal could harm me?” he scoffed, voice laced with pride. “I’ve slaughtered beasts. Jedi. Soldiers. Entire villages. Families.” His jaw tightened, lip caught briefly between his teeth before he let it go. “An animal couldn’t touch me if it tried.”

Josh’s gut clenched at the casual cruelty in Tyler’s words. Families. Jedi. The list of people Tyler claimed to have broken unfurled like a ledger in Josh’s mind, each name a cold weight. His chest still ached from the water; his limbs felt leaden as he pushed himself to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Tyler asked, not looking up from the fire.

Josh tilted his head, forcing a steadier tone than he felt. 

“I need to meditate.”

Tyler made a small, mocking sound. 

“Hm. Should’ve guessed. Can’t let your fragile Jedi resolve slip into the abyss again, now can we?”

Josh bristled. The insult landed under his armor. He kicked a loose pebble and watched it skitter into the dark, marsh-scented air. 

“You planted the doubt, Tyler. You shoved me off the path more than once.” He let the memory of water flooding his lungs flash through him, and it steeled his voice. “It won’t happen again.”

“You’ve said that before, Jedi,” Tyler replied. His tone lacked venom. If anything it was tired, like a blade dulled by use.

“Yes.” Josh’s voice cracked, then hardened. “But this time the Force pulled me up. It saved me. I can’t turn my back on it, ever again.” He swallowed, taste of swamp on his tongue. “I have a mission, and I will complete it.”

Tyler rose, the motion slow and deliberate. The firelight split along the angles of his face, making his eyes flare like coals. 

“I am your mission, imbecile,” he spat. “You will not complete it if I do not comply.”

Josh felt the words stick like a splinter. For a heartbeat he let the truth of them sit between them: Tyler was the obstacle, the pivot.

“If you do not comply,” he said, voice wavering under the weight of what he contemplated, “I will have to kill you.”

Silence coiled around the words. Tyler’s mouth quirked. No fear, only a dangerous curiosity. 

“You would kill me? Here? Now?” He leaned slightly forward, as if savoring the possibility. “Do you really think you’d have it in you to slay me where I stand? Is that the Jedi way?”

Josh swallowed hard. The idea of killing, of extinguishing another life, felt like a blade against his throat. He wasn’t an executioner. Killing as vengeance corrupted the spirit; even killing in battle was a last resort, carried with mourning, not triumph.

“You threaten the balance of the Order,” Josh said, forcing the doctrine from his training into the open light. “The Order exists to guard the balance, to preserve life where we can. When one who wields the Dark Side becomes a weapon against that balance, the choice becomes…harder. I won’t relish it. I would not strike out of hate. I would…” he broke off, searching for the steadiness he’d found in the water, “I would do what must be done to protect others.”

Tyler’s laugh was soft, incredulous. 

“Noble words,” he said. “So framed in righteousness. But watch your hands, Jedi. Mercy can be a chain as easily as a creed. And sometimes the Order asks you to wear shackles in the name of justice.”

Josh felt anger and shame rise together. Anger at Tyler’s casual cruelty, shame that the thought of killing trembled through him like an echo. The bellows and distant calls of Dagobah’s deeper wilds closed in, watching.

“Maybe,” Josh said at last, voice low, “but I will not let you make me into something I’m not. If I must act, it will be to protect, not to punish. That is the difference between us.” He squared his shoulders. “And if the choice comes, I pray the Force will guide me true.”

Tyler’s eyes narrowed, unreadable slits of crimson. For a heartbeat, the swamp itself seemed to hold still. Then, with a deliberate shrug, as if bored of Josh’s conviction, Tyler stepped forward, stopping directly before him.

“Guide you true, you say?” he mocked, a feigned frown tugging at his lips. His gaze drifted in a slow, deliberate triangle. Josh’s eyes, then his mouth, then back again. “Tell me, did it guide you true when you pressed your lips to mine?” His tone was a blade dipped in honey. “If so… then perhaps I ought to put my faith in the Force as much as you do.”

Josh’s breath caught sharp in his chest. Heat flooded his face as the memory flashed, unwelcome and undeniable. He clenched his jaw. 

“You smothered the flame of the Light,” he said, each word pushed out like stone from his lungs. “That wasn’t guidance. That was you dragging me into the deep. That wasn’t me. That was… some corrupt vision you forged.”

Tyler’s mouth curled, predatory, amused.

“Anything to soothe your fragile conscience, Padawan.” His voice dropped into a purr as he closed the final inches, his lips grazing Josh’s. “But I enjoyed that ‘vision.’ Very much.”

The brush of contact sent a tremor down Josh’s spine. This man tried to kill me. The thought screamed in his head. He broke me, bent me, pulled me toward the Dark. And yet, his body betrayed him. The warmth of Tyler’s lips, the pull of that dangerous closeness, it was intoxicating. Too real to dismiss as shadows of the Dark Side.

With a ragged inhale, Josh tore himself back, stumbling a step away, severing the contact. His chest heaved, the air thick in his lungs.

“Well, you’ll never see it again,” he said, voice taut but resolute.

Tyler’s smile lingered. Slick, amused, like a blade spun just out of reach. The damp air seemed to curl around him as if the swamp itself enjoyed the sparring. 

“Tsk-tsk. How unfortunate,” he murmured. “Though I must admit, I rather enjoy our…push-and-pull.”

Josh stared at him, raw and hollowed-out, as if Tyler’s words had torn at some tender place and left him exposed. He felt smaller than he had before.

“Do you, really?” he asked, voice brittle. “Or is it simply the delight of watching me fall apart? The satisfaction of ruining what little I have left?”

For an instant Tyler’s grin crumpled. The crimson in his eyes drained to brown, an all-too-human flash that tugged at Josh’s chest like a hook. 

“I’m trying to save you,” Tyler said, and the words landed wrong. Soft and dangerous all at once.

Josh laughed, no humor in it, only disbelief. 

“Save me?” He spat the word out as if it tasted of rust. “By dragging me into a violent, blood-streaked future? By teaching me to be the thing that killed my Master? I’d rather die than become what you want me to be.”

Tyler’s eyes had gone entirely brown now, steady and too close to human for Josh’s comfort. The sight of that momentary softness, an almost-plea, twisted something in Josh. He felt the pull, the traitorous tug in his ribs where grief and longing and adrenaline braided into something like yearning.

Tyler took a step forward; the movement was slow, inevitable. 

“Chains don’t save anyone, Joshua,” he said quietly. “The Jedi chain you to a doctrine that refuses to let you feel. I free you from that. I give you…choice.” His voice dropped to a whisper that tasted like smoke. “Is that not salvation?”

“I…” Josh started, the single syllable ragged and small in the wide, wet night.

Tyler’s smile softened for a sliver of a second, no cruelty there now, only hunger. 

“Say it,” he murmured. “Say you want it.”

Images crowded Josh’s mind: Keons teaching him how to breathe, to reach outward and steady the spinning threads of the Force; the scrubbed, pale faces of the Council as they spoke of duty; the taste of saltwater from the swamp when he almost drowned and the Force had hauled him back.

To answer Tyler was to betray those memories. To deny Tyler was to deny the pulse of something that had entered him in the dark and warmed him, however briefly.

“You call it freedom,” Josh said, forcing the words out. “But the Sith speak of freedom the way a butcher speaks of meat. You cut away what you do not like. You let cruelty be a virtue. That is not freedom. That is appetite made law.”

Tyler’s eyes flicked, brown drowned once more in the hungry crimson glow.

“God, Jedi,” he snapped, voice rough. “Let it go. Your preaching isn’t going to work on me. I feel like we’ve made that clear enough.” He stepped closer, firelight glinting off the fresh blood on his temples. “Just talk to me. Let me in.”

Josh took a step back, hands curling at his sides. 

“I am talking to you.”

Tyler’s mouth twisted into a sneer. 

“No. You’re spitting the Code at me. Your precious teachings.” His words dripped disdain. “I want to know who is trying to save me… while I try to save him.”

Josh swallowed hard, throat tight. And the truth of it cut him more sharply than a lightsaber blade. Tyler was right. He was hiding behind lessons and mantras. Keons’ voice, the Council’s words. They were shields he clung to because his own felt too fragile.

He drew a breath, slow and deliberate, then let it hiss out through his teeth. 

“Then what do you want to know, Tyler? What do you want from me… besides what I’ve already given?”

The Sith apprentice moved closer, deliberate, closing the space between them. This time Josh didn’t move.

Tyler’s gaze raked over him with a predator’s hunger, a snarl flickering at his mouth…then something shifted. His eyes wavered, red bleeding back into brown, his expression faltering. Confusion, even fear, ghosted across his face.

Josh’s heart kicked. He swore it was like watching two different men fighting for the same skin.

“I…” Tyler’s voice cracked, dazed. “I want to know about the boy who was taken from Naboo.”

The swamp went silent around them, as though even the insects had paused to listen.

“I’ve already told you.” Josh began.

“No. I want to know how you were raised. Why the Jedi chose you. Why they took you so young.” Tyler’s voice was quieter than usual, stripped of its usual sharpness. “I want to know why they chose you, and not me.”

Guilt slid like ice water down Josh’s spine. It wasn’t his fault, but still it clung to him. He couldn’t believe, didn’t want to believe, that the Jedi had known about Tyler rotting away on Raxus Prime and simply left him. Left a child. 

That was unthinkable… wasn’t it?

Josh sighed, lowering his gaze to the fog curling at their boots. 

“Walk with me.” He gestured toward the trees.

Tyler arched a brow.

“We can’t sit?”

A faint chuckle escaped Josh. 

“Do you want to know or not, Apprentice?”

Tyler rolled his eyes but obeyed, his limp slowing his stride but not his stubbornness. They moved side by side through Dagobah’s dense trees, the mist coiling between gnarled roots, vines trailing like the swamp itself was eavesdropping.

Josh’s shoulder brushed Tyler’s as he started.

“I was always an empath. My mother raised me to be gentle, to smile more than I frowned. But it was deeper than just being kind. I could feel… everything. Every emotion. Every fear, every flicker of joy, every ache in someone’s heart. People. Animals. Even the smallest creatures.”

Tyler’s brow furrowed, though he stayed silent, the limp in his step softened by his focus.

“One year, a herd of shaaks panicked during a storm. They stampeded toward my village. Everyone screamed, ran. But I…” Josh shook his head at the memory, his braid swinging against his shoulder. “I don’t know what made me do it, but I stood in front of them. Barefoot in the mud, rain soaking me. And instead of crushing me, they stopped. I reached out with nothing but feeling. Took their terror into myself, smoothed it into calm. I didn’t even have words for it then.”

A small, almost reverent silence followed, broken only by the swamp’s slow breath.

“That’s when the Jedi came,” Josh continued softly. “I’ll never forget the ship that landed. It blotted out half the sky. First time I’d ever seen one up close. They told me I was gifted. That I could save lives.”

Tyler cut in sharply, “And then they just took you?”

Josh shook his head.

“Not immediately. They spoke with my parents first. Gave them time to decide. To think.” He stepped over a fallen branch, his expression distant. “I didn’t really understand what it all meant. Only that the Jedi were… good.”

Tyler let out a scoff, sharp and bitter.

Josh ignored it, pressing on. 

“In the end, my parents agreed. They let me go. I said my goodbyes. Still too young to fully understand that I was leaving forever. But I remember my mother’s face. Tear-stained, broken. She didn’t want to let me go once she realized what it meant. That I wouldn’t be coming home again.”

Tyler’s voice cut through, low and deliberate.

“You could still see her.”

Josh’s throat tightened, his steps faltering.

“N-no, I can’t. It’s forbidden.”

“And that doesn’t seem wrong to you?”

Josh slowed, finally turning to face him. 

“How many times do I need to tell you? Attachment is not allowed.”

Tyler arched a brow, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth. 

“Funny. Because when you talk about your mother, you speak with love. When you talk about Keons, it’s admiration, inherently fatherly.” He tilted his head, studying Josh like a puzzle. “That sounds like attachment to me.”

Josh’s mouth opened, but no words came. He was stumped, caught in the snare of his own convictions.

“You can’t even grieve, by that definition,” Tyler went on, a casual shrug hiding the bite in his words. “Seems to me like they want you to be droids. Obedient, unfeeling, programmed.”

“Grief isn’t attachment,” Josh shot back, too quickly, too defensive.

Tyler’s eyes darkened, but his voice softened, a dangerous kind of quiet.

“Isn’t it? What is grief, if not love, transcending space and time?”

The swamp seemed to hold its breath; even the drip of water from low-hanging vines slowed as if listening. The sentence was raw and startling. Probably the most human thing Josh had heard Tyler say since Corellia. It pried at something close to hope in him. If Tyler could speak like that, maybe he could be reached. Maybe he could be brought toward the light. The thought frightened Josh in a way that made his palms slick.

“Do you grieve?” Josh asked, voice small in the green hush.

Tyler’s eyes flashed an instant of red, bright and dangerous, then slid back to brown like a curtain dropping. He started walking again, the limp barely disguising the precision in his step.

“Every day,” he replied, flat and steady.

Josh fell into step beside him, shoulder nudging against Tyler’s in a small, almost reflexive gesture. The fog curled around their boots; the trunks of ancient trees loomed like silent sentinels. 

“What about you?” Josh pressed. “Your story. You said you wanted to know mine. Why won’t you tell me yours?”

Tyler’s jaw worked. He didn’t answer right away. Where he looked, the mist thickened, and for a breath Josh thought he saw the shape of a boy behind the man. 

“You’ve seen my past,” Tyler said finally, tone clipped as if to close the subject.

“Yes,” Josh said. “But I haven’t heard it.”

Tyler snorted, the sound almost a laugh and almost a razor. 

“You don’t get to.”

Josh’s chest hardened like cooled metal. 

“So I share my past with you,” he said, hurt sharpening his words, “but I get nothing in return?”

For the first time since Josh had met him, Tyler faltered. His eyes dipped, no bravado left in them. He seemed to be choosing his words with care, which made each one land heavier. When he finally spoke his voice was low and brittle, not the taunt Josh had grown used to. 

“I want to know more,” Tyler admitted. Not a demand, not a boast, but a confession that sounded dangerously like need.

The admission hung between them in the wet air. Josh could feel the force of it. Not a threat, not a promise, but a crack in the armor. It was small, and the forgiving green of Dagobah swallowed it quickly, but Josh tucked it away: proof that even in that fractured, furious man there might be room for something else. He kept walking, matching Tyler’s pace.

“I found out… a year into my training… that my mother had died.” Josh’s voice was low, almost breaking, as he let the words drop into the thick Dagobah mist.

Tyler’s eyebrows lifted, a flicker of surprise, or curiosity, crossing his face. 

“How?”

Josh swallowed hard, weighing whether he truly wanted to open that wound in front of him. The swamp pressed close around them, gnarled roots like claws, the air damp and expectant. 

“The Sith… they invaded my village. Droids everywhere. Fires burning. Chaos.”

Tyler’s eyes narrowed. 

“And you… how did you find out? Weren’t you forbidden from knowing about your family?”

Josh nodded, the memory clawing its way up from the buried corners of his mind.

“Keons… he was tasked with scouting the damage. To see if there were survivors. I was brought along, not for training, not as a reward, but to see if my Force empathy could be of use.”

He stopped mid-step, letting the mist curl around him, and sank onto a stump. Tyler followed, perching on a massive twisted root across from him, their boots sinking slightly into the damp soil.

Josh’s hands trembled, clenching and unclenching in his lap. 

“I could feel it. All of it. The pain. The fear. The horror. The silence that came after the screams. I was just a child… and I was home. But everyone…” His hand shook, rising to cover his mouth. “I found her… in our house. My mother.”

The memory played like a holo-projection behind his eyes, vivid and cruel. Years of suppression collapsed in a second; it was as if he had been ripped back to that day.

“Keons found me there… holding her, sobbing,” Josh said, voice tight, breaking slightly. He let his hands fall, resting his elbows on his knees, fingers interlaced. “He… he allowed me a moment. To grieve. To feel what I was seeing. It was against the Jedi Code. He knew it. But he let me have it anyway.”

The swamp seemed to lean in closer, as if listening. The weight of grief hung heavy between them, palpable as the mist curled around their boots and clung to the gnarled roots.

Josh exhaled slowly, letting a fraction of the burden seep out, though the memory clung like smoke to the back of his mind. 

“The amount of dying people I had to soothe that day… it haunts me.” His voice was quiet, almost swallowed by the mist. “I remember touching half of them… feeling their pain, their fear. I couldn’t even make out their faces. They were so battered, so gone. I just… had to feel it all.”

A heavy silence followed, broken only by the distant drip of water and the croak of unseen creatures.

Tyler’s voice cut through, low and curious.

“How can you be a Jedi with an ability like that? Empathy. Feeling others so completely…” He let the words trail, almost testing Josh.

Josh nodded, meeting Tyler’s gaze, steady despite the ache in his chest.

“That’s why I was taken.”

Tyler’s brow lifted, a flicker of understanding, or calculation, passing through his features. 

“So I was right. They were and are afraid of you.”

Josh shook his head.

“No.”

Tyler leaned forward slightly, his voice sharp. 

“Yes. They saw a Force-sensitive child with the ability to touch, to feel, to soothe. To manipulate emotion without a word.”

Josh faltered, caught off guard by the perspective. Tyler’s eyes glinted crimson for a heartbeat, dangerous and predatory.

“Do you know what kind of weapon that would be for the Sith?” Tyler asked, voice low, almost reverent in its dark fascination.

Josh shook his head slowly, the thought staggering him.

“You could start wars with it,” Tyler said, a dangerous smile curling at his lips. “And finish them. Bend armies, crush uprisings, sway hearts and minds with nothing but a touch.”

Josh swallowed, the weight of Tyler’s words pressing against his chest. The Force hummed around them, vibrant and untamed in the swamp. For a moment, he felt the dangerous allure of what Tyler described. A power terrifying in its simplicity, intoxicating in its finality.

“Or,” Josh said, his voice steadying as he latched onto the Light, “I could use it to help people. To heal. To restore balance and peace to the galaxy, as the Order teaches.”

Tyler scoffed, rolling his shoulders with disdain.

“Order shmorder. Who cares? Balance? Peace? These are illusions, Jedi. Pretty words to pacify the weak. The galaxy has never been balanced. It thrives on conflict, on struggle. It is the way of things.”

Josh’s jaw tightened. 

“The Force creates the balance.”

“And what breaks it?” Tyler pressed, his voice rising.

“The Sith,” Josh answered without hesitation.

“Says who?” Tyler challenged, his red eyes narrowing.

Josh’s throat tightened, but his voice carried conviction. 

“My dead mother. My dead village. The countless others cut down by Sith blades, or burned beneath their armies. The dead cry it louder than I ever could.” His eyes hardened, locking on Tyler’s. “How many have to die by the Sith’s hands? By your hands.”

Tyler’s chuckle rolled low, twisted with something dark, something hollow. It echoed through the mist like a predator’s growl. 

“The Sith take what is needed. We strip away the falsehoods of mercy and restraint. The weak cling to chains of compassion and call it virtue, but all it does is slow the strong. We kill to claim what the galaxy denies us. To carve order from chaos. To remind the galaxy that power, not pity, decides who survives.”

His voice lowered, dangerous, almost intimate.

“I have slain Jedi who thought love would save them. Farmers who thought faith would protect them. Soldiers who thought hope was stronger than hunger. Every death proves the same truth: the galaxy respects only strength.”

The swamp air pressed in around them, thick and indifferent, as if the world itself judged nothing.

“That is a cruel way to view the entirety of life,” Josh said, voice steady though the words felt small in the green hush.

“Cruel? Or just realistic?” Tyler’s mouth tightened into a thin line. He shook his head once, slow and certain. “Like I said, Joshua, I’m trying to save you. From the Jedi. From yourself. From their restrictions.”

“It’s foolish,” Josh replied. “I don’t need saving.”

Tyler’s laugh was a dry rasp. 

“And neither do I, yet here we are. Two sides of the same coin, tugging at one another.” He clicked his tongue, then fixed Josh with a look that went colder as it shifted from brown to red. “Seems to me we’re at a standstill. The question is… who strikes first?”

“I am not going to fight you.” Josh’s answer came quick, the words more plea than promise. He pushed himself up and started off again through the tangle of roots and low-hanging vines, trying to put distance between them.

Tyler rose with him, silent as a shadow, then his hand closed on Josh’s forearm. The grip was iron; Josh felt it through his tunic like a brand. Pain flared, hot and immediate, and something in the Force tightened at the contact, a discordant note that set Josh’s teeth on edge.

“Then what are you going to do?” Tyler asked, voice low enough that the moss seemed to absorb it.

Josh looked down at the encircling hand. He wrenched it once, testing, but Tyler’s fingers only dug in deeper. The apprentice’s eyes were a storm, hunger and challenge braided together.

“I don’t know,” Josh admitted, the truth landing heavy in the damp air. “But I will bring you to the Light.”

Tyler’s chest shook with a short, humorless chuckle. With a motion half coaxing, half command, he yanked Josh close until their faces were inches apart and the swamp sounds dropped away, leaving only the rasp of Tyler’s breath.

“You are deluded if you think there is any part of me that would fall into that…that disgusting dogma,” Tyler hissed, the word like acid. “The Jedi are poison. I will not stop until every last one of them is ash.”

Josh’s jaw clenched. He tasted copper on his tongue, fear or adrenaline, he couldn’t tell. He pulled back against Tyler’s hold, and at last Tyler released him with a sharp roll of the shoulder.

Breath trembling, Josh rubbed the place where Tyler had gripped him; the bruise bloomed beneath his sleeve. The Force hummed, a distant tide that steadied his pulse.

He drew his hand away and let it fall to his side, fingers splayed, grounding himself in the simple weight of his body. 

“So you will kill me? Eventually?” Josh asked, his voice softer than he intended, betraying the tremor he fought to suppress.

Tyler tilted his head, a predatory glint flickering red in his eyes. 

“You are not entirely a Jedi.”

Josh narrowed his gaze. He started walking again.

“Well, you can’t kill half of me.”

A low laugh rumbled from Tyler’s chest.

“Oh, but I can. In fact, I already have.”

Josh’s steps slowed for a second, and Tyler followed, shadows clinging to him like a second cloak.

“And how, exactly, have you done that?”

Tyler’s smile was sharp enough to cut.

“Because I’ve already forced you to touch the Dark Side. Even if only for a heartbeat. That stain does not wash away, Joshua. You’re not purely Jedi anymore. You’re walking the line. You’re becoming what some would call… a Grey Jedi.”

Josh quirked an eyebrow, glancing sidelong at him. 

“And what is a Grey Jedi?”

Tyler’s tone grew almost reverent.

“One who refuses the chains of the Order, yet does not kneel to the Sith. They take from both sides. The freedom, the passion, the wisdom. Yet they cast aside the dogma. They are balance, unshackled.”

Josh’s lip curled, the denial ready in his throat. 

“That is not me.”

Tyler’s smirk deepened, as if Josh’s certainty only amused him.

“Not yet.” He quickened his pace, falling into step beside Josh, his limp vanishing as though it had never existed. “Once you reach that threshold, I can take you to the point of no return. You will become Sith. And you will stand at my side.”

Josh gave a short, dry chuckle.

“These conversations get us nowhere, and you know it.”

Tyler chuckled back, low and deliberate.

“One of these times, I’m certain one of us will fall for the other.”

Something lodged in Josh’s throat. Unwanted, unwelcome. He swallowed it down, forcing his voice steady.

“I’m going to meditate now.”

Tyler tilted his head, eyes bleeding back to brown.

“As shall I.”

They came to a clearing in the swamp where the water ran shallow, broken by a scatter of dark stones. 

Josh approached the largest rock and lowered himself onto it, folding his legs and resting his hands on his knees. He drew a breath in, then out, letting his eyelids fall closed. The swamp receded as he reached for the current of the Force, seeking its quiet embrace, its clarity.

But then he heard Tyler’s steps beside him. The rock shifted faintly as another weight settled. Josh cracked an eye open. Tyler sat mirrored to him, cross-legged, hands resting on his knees, eyes shut.

Josh closed his own again, determined to shut him out, to drift beyond his presence and into the stillness. He reached deeper, deeper…

And the Force seized him.

The air around him shifted, heavy and acrid. His lungs burned as smoke filled them. The swamp dissolved, and he opened his eyes into fire. Into ash.

His village.

The night it all ended.

The day his mother died. The day the Sith came.

The tall grass of Naboo was brittle beneath his boots, breaking to cinders with every step. His throat clenched as he turned toward the house he had once called home. The familiar outline stood broken, smoldering, devoured by flame.

“Joshua?”

The voice cut like a blade, echoing across the ruins.

Josh froze, then turned.

Through the smoke and the haze, a figure moved. Shaped first in light, then swallowed by shadow. A flare of red burst through the fog, two sabers igniting, crimson hunger tearing through the vision. But it was only a mirage.

The figure stepped out of the fog.

Tyler.

Josh swallowed hard. His palms dampened as dread coiled in his gut. He did not want Tyler here. Not in this memory, not in this wound. He had told him pieces of this night earlier, a version Josh could bear to share. But this was different.

“Is this… when it all changed for you?” Tyler’s voice cut through the haze, oddly small beside the roar of flames. He stood in the edge of the vision as if watching with him.

Josh only nodded. Then a strangled cry tore from somewhere inside the house and he ran.

He crashed through the door. Once, twice, three times. Winded and coughing from smoke that tasted of char and iron. Scream after scream shredded the night outside

“Mom?!” He called, voice twisting with concern.

Room after room was a map of ruin: scorched curtains, overturned chairs, the smell of singed hair thick in the air. Finally he stumbled up the narrow stairs. On the landing, the world froze.

There, under a halo of heat and ember-spark, his mother sat on the floor, hands clasped to her chest, eyes wide and raw with pleading. Her dress was torn, her face streaked with blood and soot; she looked ten years older than he remembered, small and ravaged where she had once been the center of his world.

A cloaked figure stood over her like a shadow given shape.

“Please,” his mother begged, voice ragged. “Please. My children, my family…”

Children? A cold confusion knifed through Josh. He was an only child. He could not understand the word until the figure laughed, a sound without mercy.

The man’s hand went to his hip. The hilt he unclipped was ugly and beautiful at once: a blackened bar of metal, scarred from use, a single curved guard that fit a hand like a question. 

When the blade ignited it spat a hungry red into the smoke, a blade whose glow painted the walls in blood and made every shadow look guilty.

“You lie,” the man said, voice like gravel and sugar. “You have one child. He is Force sensitive. Where is he?”

“My child does not know the Force,” his mother whispered. “He’s a farmer, like his father. Please, don’t make my child motherless.”

“Liar.” The man’s light threw her face into stark relief. He raised the saber, poised to punish a lie with flame.

Josh tried to move, to throw himself between blade and breath, but the Force had made him spectator: frozen, distant, agony reduced to watching glass. His arms would not obey. He could only watch the world bloody itself.

The man paused. For a heartbeat there was a cruel amusement in his tone. Then, addressing the subordinate battle droid to his left, the man said, “Bring the boy.”

Footsteps sounded behind Josh and he turned.

Tyler was there on the stairs. Only he was not the Tyler he knew. The apprentice’s form flickered, and in the vision it shrank. The jut of cheekbone softening, shoulders folding into the narrowness of a child’s frame, Sith clothing that hung slack where it did not yet fit. He looked up at the man and then at Josh, and something in that small face, fear, hunger, obedience, made Josh’s stomach clench.

“Tyler, what are you…” Josh began, the word a question and an accusation.

Tyler brushed past him on the way up, elbowing Josh’s shoulder with the ease of command. The motion was casual; the intent was not.

The older man turned. The face snapped into view: pale, brittle with practiced cruelty. 

Darth Bourbaki. 

He tilted his head as if considering a trinket. 

“Do me a favor, Apprentice,” he said, voice low and amused, the syllables oily. Behind him a battle droid whirred like a waiting animal. Josh’s mother sobbed and begged and made no impression on the man.

“Kill her.”

The child, Tyler, bowed, obedient to a command that tasted of death and raw fear. 

“As you wish, my Master.”

Josh’s lungs shut down. His vision tunneled. The world shrank to a single, searing thread of red light. The saber hissed, the strike was swift, and his mother’s scream cleaved him in two.

The blade cut through flesh, through hope, through the last tether that had bound him to innocence. Her body crumpled, eyes wide with terror even as the glow of the saber faded. Smoke rose from her chest, the scent of scorched fabric and blood mingling with ash.

Josh wanted to move, to throw himself between them, to undo it, but he was anchored in place, forced by the vision to watch. His hands shook uselessly at his sides.

Tyler, still holding the blade, turned toward Bourbaki, chest heaving from the weight of what he had done. For a breath, Josh prayed for hesitation, for regret. None came.

The Sith Lord’s lips curled into a cruel smile. He clapped the boy hard on the back, the sound as sharp as the saber’s hum.

“Well done, my apprentice,” Bourbaki crooned, his voice slick with pride. “You will be a perfect blade.”

The boy lowered the saber, his face expressionless save for a faint, hungry flicker in his eyes. He stood straighter, basking in approval that should have burned him alive.

Josh’s chest cracked open. He could not even describe the feeling, except that it was worse than any wound he had ever borne.

The vision ripped away. He gasped, dragged back into the swamp, into the present, but the fire still clung to him. The smell, the scream, the red. For a moment he was weightless in the Force, stripped bare, as though every lie he’d told himself had been torn down.

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. The realization struck sharper than any saber: his mother had not been killed by a nameless Sith marauder. She had been executed by Tyler’s hand. Small, obedient, and complicit.

The swamp pressed close, thick with silence. Only Josh’s ragged breath broke the stillness, sharp as broken glass. Beside him, Tyler still sat in mock-serenity, eyes closed, as if meditating. As if his hands weren’t stained with Josh’s past.

For a long, trembling moment, Josh didn’t know whether the Force had given him a weapon or a wound. Rage thundered in his chest, grief poisoned his throat, and he could not tell them apart.

His voice came out broken, barely more than a whisper.

“You…” His throat closed. He swallowed, forcing the word out again. “You were there. You…”

Tyler’s eyes opened. Brown, then bleeding red. His gaze was steady, almost curious, his face free of guilt or hesitation.

Josh’s voice cracked. He stood, trembling, backing away as tears spilled unchecked.

“You killed my mother.” His voice rose, raw and shaking. “You sick monster.”

He saw her again, her hands clasped, her voice begging, pleading. Please. I have a child.

Josh’s fists curled at his sides, fingernails biting deep into his palms as he tried, and failed, to keep the fury from spilling over. 

“She begged you for mercy. Told you she had a child. And you still…” Josh’s voice splintered, the words torn apart by the sob clawing its way up his throat. His breath hitched, ragged, uneven. “You killed an innocent woman.”

“I did what I was told,” Tyler snapped back, his voice cracking like a whip as he rose from the rock. His stance was taut, defensive, every line of his body a wall of denial. “I was commanded to do it, and I did.”

Josh’s whole body trembled, fury colliding with grief in his chest. 

“You were commanded to cut down an innocent life. For what? For him? For a Sith’s sick amusement?”

Tyler’s jaw clenched. 

“I was a child, Joshua. A child! I didn’t know what it meant. I didn’t understand what I was doing. I obeyed, because that was all I knew.”

Josh shook his head violently, tears streaking down his face. His voice dropped low, shaking.

“No. You had to have known. Bourbaki asked about a Force-sensitive child. That was me.” His chest heaved as the realization burned deeper. “He was looking for me.”

Tyler’s eyes narrowed, the red haze flickering faintly in their depths. He tilted his head, gaze sharp and cutting.

“Did you know?”

Josh faltered, stumbling a step back. The swamp floor seemed to tilt beneath him.

“W-what?”

“Did you know Bourbaki was searching for you?” Tyler pressed, each word deliberate, sharpened.

The air constricted around Josh. His thoughts crashed in on themselves. He’d been told the Sith had ravaged his village. A raid. A slaughter. That it was random. Nothing more than a tragedy of war. Not this. Never this.

If Bourbaki had been looking for him, then everything, the fire, the screams, his mother’s death, wasn’t random at all. It was a hunt. And he was the prey.

Why hadn’t the Jedi told him? Why hadn’t anyone told him?

Tyler’s lips curved in something between a sneer and a grimace.

“That look on your face tells me the answer is no.” His tone was clipped, bitter. “Looks like the Jedi are caught in another lie, hmm?”

Josh’s voice cracked. 

“No. They… they didn’t tell me. But that doesn’t make it a lie.”

Tyler barked a sharp laugh, bitter and cruel. 

“Then what does it make it, Joshua? A guilt trap? They left you in the dark, left you to believe your mother’s death was meaningless. When the truth is, she died because of you. Because of what you are.”

Josh’s hands curled into fists. His eyes were wet, blazing. His voice trembled, but his words cut like steel.

“She didn’t die because of me.” Josh’s voice was shaking now, grief shredding into fury. He stepped forward, fists trembling at his sides. “She died because of you.”

“She died because the Sith wanted absolute power. Because they wanted every Force-sensitive child they could find.” Tyler’s gaze raked over him, slow and cutting. “You were the cause of her demise whether you care to admit it or not.” His lips curved into something venomous. “And the Jedi keeping it from you…” He clicked his tongue, feigning disappointment. “Now that’s just shameful. The Sith would’ve just told you the truth.”

Josh staggered, his breath breaking into a sharp, audible rasp. The swamp seemed to press in on him, its mist thick and suffocating. His whole body burned, the weight of Tyler’s words sinking claws into him.

“Shut up,” Josh whispered, his teeth clenched so tight the words barely slipped out.

Tyler tilted his head, unflinching, almost amused. 

“Why? Because it cuts deeper than any blade? Because you finally see the Jedi for what they are. Liars who twist the truth to make you obedient?”

Josh’s chest heaved, each breath harder to pull than the last. The air felt like fire in his lungs. 

“You don’t get to stand there and talk about the Jedi. Not after what you did.” Josh’s voice cracked, rising until it nearly split. “You killed her. You took her from me.” His fists shook at his sides, nails biting so deep they split skin, blood slipping hot between his fingers. “Don’t you dare try to pin this on me.”

Tyler’s eyes flashed crimson for a heartbeat, the glow cutting through the fog like a blade. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, almost tender, but coiled with venom.

“I didn’t take anyone from you. The Jedi took you from her.” The red in his gaze did not fade this time. His words came slow, deliberate. “And… if you had never been born, Joshua… she would still be alive.”

Josh’s breath faltered. The swamp seemed to close in around them, the fog thickening, the cicadas gone silent. His vision blurred with tears until the only thing sharp in his world was that pair of burning red eyes.

“That’s not true,” he rasped, though his voice rose with every syllable. “She loved me. She protected me. She died for me.” His jaw locked, the grief inside him boiling toward something darker. “Don’t twist that into something it wasn’t.”

Tyler stepped forward, the swamp’s shadows seeming to bend with him, folding toward the darkness in his wake.

“And yet, because of you, her blood painted the floor.” His lips curled, cruel and deliberate. “Because of what you are. The Jedi wrapped the truth in silk so you could sleep at night. But deep down, you know. She died because you were too important to live in peace.”

Josh staggered back, hands rising without thought. His fingers trembled, twitching, the Force buzzing hot through his veins. His chest ached with fire, every breath pulled sharp and shallow. He could feel it. The edge. A precipice yawning before him, vast and terrible, whispering for him to fall.

“Stop,” he whispered, though the word broke with rage, not restraint. His nails carved deeper into his palms, blood running slick down his wrists. “You don’t get to speak of her. You don’t get to claim her death.”

Tyler’s eyes burned like twin suns in eclipse. He leaned closer, voice thick with promise.

“Then claim it yourself, Joshua. Claim the power she left behind. Let it feed you. Let it free you.”

The swamp shuddered with the weight of Tyler’s words. Mist coiled tighter around them, restless, as though the Force itself recoiled, holding its breath at the brink of what Josh might become.

Josh’s gaze flicked to the sabers at Tyler’s belt, twin predators sleeping in plain sight, then snapped back to the man’s face. Tyler was watching him, tracking his every breath, his every twitch.

“Careful, Jedi,” Tyler murmured, the word spat like a curse. “You’re walking that line I warned you about. Don’t slip. Don’t fall.” His voice twisted into mocking concern.

Josh swore his rage might detonate inside him. The grief, the fear, the revelation. He had kissed the man who murdered his mother. His stomach turned, his throat burned. He pinched his eyes shut, as if to smother the fury before it consumed him whole.

“No…” His voice cracked, low, but certain. “No, I won’t fall.”

“Are you sure?” Tyler pressed, stepping closer, shadows following him like loyal hounds. His voice dripped with venomous delight. “It seems to me you’re already leaning.”

Josh’s head shook again, harder this time, but when his eyes snapped open, Tyler was there, so close their breaths tangled in the damp air. The crimson of his gaze burned into him.

“If you fall,” Tyler whispered, gaze dropping deliberately to Josh’s lips, “I will catch you.”

Josh leaned in, fury and grief braided tight, his voice a vow rasped between clenched teeth.

“I will not fall.”

Tyler’s mouth curved in a dark smile, his eyes never leaving Josh’s lips.

“And I—”

The words died on his tongue. A blinding surge of light cut the mist, the hiss of energy crackling through flesh.

Tyler’s breath hitched, his body arching as a blue lightsaber burst clean through his torso, the blade glowing bright against the swamp’s gloom. The red drained from his eyes, replaced by shock as he staggered forward into Josh’s arms.

Josh froze, blood and light spilling across his vision, unable to comprehend whether the fire in his chest was rage or loss.

And in the silence, only the saber hummed.

Chapter Text

Tyler’s breath hitched, body snapping taut as the blue blade speared clean through him, the hum of the saber loud against the swamp’s suffocating silence. His eyes flared red, then faltered, fading to brown as shock overtook him. He staggered forward, collapsing against Josh’s chest, the scent of scorched cloth and flesh searing the air.

Josh’s world shattered. For one heartbeat he stood frozen, the weapon still humming in his hands, light and blood mingling before his eyes. Then realization struck like lightning. With a strangled cry, he thumbed off the saber, the glow vanishing, leaving only the reek of smoke and iron.

“Tyler… oh God, no… no, no, no…” Josh’s voice cracked as he caught him, the weight of the other man collapsing into his arms.

Tyler coughed, wet and ragged, scarlet flecking his lips. The hum of the saber had gone silent, but its absence left a wound far worse. A gaping burn seared through his lower torso, blood staining Josh’s hands. His eyes fluttered, pale already, breath coming short and shallow.

Josh lowered him with trembling arms, laying Tyler’s head in his lap, clutching at him as if sheer will could hold him together.

“I didn’t…I don’t…I don’t know what happened,” Josh stammered, horror breaking through every word. “I didn’t mean to… it wasn’t me…”

Tyler groaned as Josh pressed his palm against the wound. His body convulsed at the touch, blood bubbling and spilling between Josh’s fingers, but Josh didn’t pull away. His pulse thundered, each beat pounding one truth into his chest.

He couldn’t let him die.

But he knew the cost. To knit a wound this deep, one carved through flesh, bone, and spirit, he would have to plunge further into the Dark than ever before. Deeper than he’d dared, deeper than he wanted to admit he could go. He had mended himself before: shallow cuts, scorched skin, the stray kiss of a blade. But this… this was mortal. Final.

And beneath the rising panic, truth gnawed at him: he hadn’t chosen to strike. His hand had moved without thought, his saber igniting in a flash of blue fury, driven by instinct, by fear, by something that wasn’t wholly his. The Dark had spoken through him, and now it threatened to take from him the one he was supposed to save.

“I won’t lose you,” Josh whispered, voice cracking as he pressed down harder. The Force shuddered around them, heavy, coiled. “I won’t.”

Tyler’s hand shot up, weak but desperate, bloodied fingers clamping around Josh’s wrist. His eyes locked on him, no longer burning with crimson veins, no longer rimmed in hate. Just brown. 

“N-no…” Tyler’s voice rasped, torn with pain. “Don’t…”

“Tyler, let me do this,” Josh pleaded, shaking. His other hand hovered uselessly, trembling inches above the gaping wound. “I-I did this to you. Let me save you.”

“Let me… go.” Tyler groaned, lips stained red, the word breaking into a cough that spattered Josh’s chest with blood.

Panic surged. Josh pressed harder, blood seeping hot around the charred edges of the saber wound. He had no training for this. Not for saving someone from a blade he had driven home. Every lesson had been about undoing the harm of others, pulling strength from calm, from stillness, from the Light. But the Light… the Light wasn’t enough.

He reached inward, grasping for it, begging the Force to answer. But the wound resisted him, gaping wider, bleeding faster with every heartbeat. And in the edges of his mind, the Dark stirred, whispering, offering power, offering certainty.

Offering salvation and life.

To heal through the Dark was not mending. It was taking. Not giving one’s own life into another, but ripping it from the living Force around him. Stealing, twisting, reshaping. The body could close, yes. The flesh could obey. But it would never be clean. It would scar with shadow, bound by pain, not peace.

Josh tried to resist. He tried to hold to the Light, pouring all he had into the wound. Tyler cried out, his body seizing under Josh’s touch, agony wracking through him as half-healing faltered.

“S-stop…” Tyler gasped, the sound ragged and small. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes, not the furious kind Josh had grown used to, but real, salt-and-human. “You’re… hurting me.”

The words were a blade. Josh’s hands shook, blood slick between his fingers, swamp water and iron on his palms. The night pressed in around them, alive with the susurrus of unseen things; even the Force felt taut, as if every strand in the galaxy were holding its breath. Light and Dark tugged like two hands on either side of his chest, and Tyler’s life dangled between them.

“I’m not letting you go,” Josh begged, voice raw. “You will not perish by my hand.”

He leaned in, palm buried in the ragged, smoking wound, trying to will the Light into order. Tyler screamed again, a sound not born of cruelty but of mortal agony, and something in Josh recoiled. 

This was Tyler the murderer and Tyler the dying man, both pressed so close together that Josh could not tell which needed mercy.

Tyler’s bloodied fingers tightened weakly around Josh’s wrist again. He blinked up at him, the amusement drained away, leaving only something like pleading.

“P-please,” he rasped, voice thin. “As your… final act as a Jedi… let me go. You won…I failed. Enough.”

Josh’s heart stuttered. Final act? The phrase landed like a tombstone. He searched Tyler’s face, those brown eyes, so disturbingly ordinary, for a trick, a snarl, anything to turn the plea back into taunt. Instead he found a brittle clarity: Tyler did not want to be healed. Or perhaps he did not want Josh to do it.

“W-what?” Josh managed, each word a ragged breath.

“If you heal me,” Tyler forced out between coughed breaths, “it will ruin you. You know this. I know this.”

The words were hardly more than a whisper, but they carried an accusation and a warning both: dive into the Dark to mend me, and you will never be whole again. For a long beat there was only the rhythm of blood and breath. The Force thrummed under Josh’s skin. A living thing offering him a thousand small paths, every one leading somewhere he could not unsee.

He could feel the Dark at his fingers’ tips now, patient and hungry, promising power enough to stitch flesh and bone closed. He could also feel the Light, thin and steady, telling him that some heals must be done differently.

Tyler’s grip slackened, his bloodied fingers sliding from Josh’s wrist. His eyes, half-lidded now, searched Josh’s face with something fragile, not rage, not cruelty, but the bare, aching clarity of a man at the edge of the abyss. Like a child asking for the last kindness.

“Please,” he whispered again, the word trembling as it left him. Not a command. Not a taunt. A benediction. “I failed. This is my fate."

Josh’s palm hovered, trembling over the wound that still hissed with heat from his own blade. The swamp was silent, the mist a shroud, the air alive with the weight of judgment. 

For the first time since his saber had pierced flesh, Josh understood the terrible paradox of what bound him: that the Force could be salvation and damnation.

He looked into Tyler’s eyes, once resembling the devil’s, hellish red that mocked and lured, now stripped to a simple, human brown. Eyes of soil, of earth. Eyes that belonged not to the devil, but to a dying man. To a boy who had been twisted into something else. Josh slid an arm beneath him, lifting gently. The weight of Tyler’s body was heavier than any burden he had carried, blood soaking through his clothes, dragging a dark smear across the swamp’s sodden floor. The path it left behind was crude, a mortal reminder etched into the earth. 

Tyler groaned, the sound jagged, his body shuddering as more blood seeped through Josh’s fingers. His skin was already cooling, stiffening beneath desperate hands that pressed hard against the wound. Every breath rattled fragile, broken, as though his lungs themselves were fraying.

“Tyler, I can’t…” Josh’s voice cracked, raw and uneven, the edges torn with grief. He dropped harder to his knees, the swamp’s muck swallowing him, clinging like it wanted to drag them both under. His palm was slick with Tyler’s blood. “I can’t let you die. Not like this. I can save you, just let me save you.”

Tyler’s hand twitched weakly against Josh’s chest, the faintest push, though it felt more like a plea than resistance. His lips parted, wet and cracked with crimson. A rasp escaped, a voice as fragile as ash.

“Don’t… deserve it.” He coughed, the sound tearing his throat. “Not me. Not after everything.” His eyes, bloodshot and glassy, locked onto Josh’s. His mouth quirked faintly, even as blood traced down his chin. “Don’t fall for me, Jedi. I’ll just drag you down. Better I go than… you lose yourself.”

Josh’s chest twisted, fury and grief crashing together, burning through him.

“No. I don’t care what you think you deserve.” His nails dug so deep into his palm that blood slicked against mud. His eyes squeezed shut. “You don’t get to decide this. Not now.”

Tyler gave a weak laugh, hoarse, wet, nearly swallowed by the bubbling blood in his throat.

“Stubborn. Always so… damn stubborn.” He coughed again, choking on red. “No wonder I liked you.”

Josh pressed harder, and Tyler’s body jerked beneath him, a scream tearing out, not Sith, not monstrous, but painfully, achingly human. It split Josh’s ribs wide open until he couldn’t breathe.

The Force churned around him, fractured, torn. The Light shimmered steady but distant, pulling away, while the Dark was immediate, immense, wrapping greedy fingers around his grief. He felt it thrumming in his veins, begging him to tip forward, to take the easier path, to use anything to keep Tyler here.

“Please,” Josh begged, tears streaking hot down his face, dripping into the blood beneath him. “Don’t make me lose you. Not like this.” He pressed harder still, fighting to keep Tyler tethered.

Tyler’s eyes darted frantically, from the wound, to Josh’s face, back again. His pupils were wide, swallowing the brown into black. His breath came shallow, hitching. His lips curved faintly, the ghost of a smirk twisting bloody at the edges.

“You’d… damn yourself for me?” he whispered, words breaking on a ragged cough. "Not a good look...for a Jedi."

His voice cracked, but the look in his eyes was sharper, darker, knowing. He was dying, but even here, he was prodding, testing, twisting the knife in Josh’s fear.

Then his body shuddered, breath stuttering. His head fell back into the sodden earth, the last fragments of strength draining from his limbs. His eyes rolled, lids fluttering half-closed, and for one agonizing heartbeat Josh thought the light in them had gone out.

"No, no no no!" Josh’s chest seized, his heart clenching with a force that threatened to tear him apart. His sob tore free, shaking his whole body. His hands pressed desperately against Tyler’s chest, fighting blood and swamp and inevitability.

He was losing him.

“Please…” His voice broke into a whisper, fierce and trembling as his palm twitched faintly with corrupted light. “Please, hurry.”

The plea wasn’t to Tyler. It wasn’t to himself.

It was to the Force.

—

“Tyler?”

The voice echoed like a ripple across still water. Soft, distant, and everywhere at once.

Tyler forced his eyes open, or thought he did. Darkness pressed in around him, thick and endless. It didn’t matter whether his eyes were closed or not; the void swallowed everything.

His hand flew to his torso, expecting searing pain, expecting the slick warmth of blood where Josh’s saber had cut him down. But there was nothing. No wound. No pain. Just silence, deeper than anything he’d ever known.

A thought coiled sharp in his chest.

Am I dead?

“Tyler…” The voice called again, closer now, carrying the weight of both command and comfort.

He straightened, defiance etched even here in the void, and walked forward into the nothing. His boots made no sound. His body felt lighter, unchained, though he couldn’t tell if he was moving at all or if the space itself bent around him.

“Hello?” he called out, his voice stronger than he felt. It carried into the dark and came back to him, smaller.

No answer.

“Where am I?” His tone faltered. He hated the edge of fear that clung to the words.

A pause. Then, like a tide drawing in…

“Within the Force, my child.”

The phrasing snagged at him. My child?

His jaw clenched. Was it his parents? The ones he hadn’t seen since he was an orphan on Raxus Prime. Scavenging, fighting, surviving? No. It couldn’t be.

“Who are you?”

And then, light. A faint glow coalesced ahead, bleeding through the black. Slowly, a figure emerged, robes draped, features carved in serenity, his outline shimmering in pale blue fire.

A Jedi.

Tyler staggered back a step, breath caught sharp in his throat.

“Wh… You?” His voice cracked, disbelief and something raw in it.

The specter smiled, kind and steady, as though no time had passed.

“Hello, Apprentice.”

Here, in the liminal space between life and death, the Force itself had brought him face-to-face with the ghost of the Jedi Master he had slain. Keons.

“Am I dead?” Tyler asked, confusion spilling into frustration.

Why would the Force show him a Jedi, and not a Sith?

“I don’t know my boy, are you?”

“Don’t play mind tricks on me, Jedi. I am not fooled as easily as your students.” Tyler spat. Unease bled sharp beneath his words. 

Why was the Force showing him this? Was it mocking him? Had even the Force abandoned him? Had the Force no mercy even for those who were Sith?

“No mind tricks are at play. I am simply asking what you believe you see,” Keons said gently.

“I don’t believe anything. I see a Jedi Master in Force-ghost form. A Jedi Master I slew not long ago.”

“Correct. And nothing more?”

“N–No?” Tyler looked around, eyes narrowing. “It’s just darkness.”

“Interesting.” The ghost moved, his robes swaying though no wind touched them. His steps rippled the void, as though the black were water and he its reflection.

Tyler followed, wariness sharp in every line of him.

“Do you see something I don’t?”

Keons stopped, his luminous outline brightening, flickers of starlight threading through his form. His voice, when it came, held the gravity of old teachings passed in temple halls long before Tyler’s birth.

“This is not darkness, Tyler. It is the threshold. The current of the Living Force as it folds into the Cosmic. Here, life and death breathe as one. The untrained eye sees only void, but a Jedi… a Jedi learns to see the tide beneath. To cross into it is to surrender the self. Not clinging. Not grasping. Simply becoming.”

His hand lifted, translucent fingers opening. The dark stirred, shapes of light trembling like distant constellations before fading back into the abyss.

“Those you call Force ghosts are not spirits chained to existence. We are those who gave ourselves wholly to the Force, and were permitted to return. Not as men of flesh, but as echoes of will. We are memory given breath, presence given form, purpose given voice. Not all Jedi can endure this path. It requires compassion. Selflessness. Surrender.”

Tyler’s lip curled, his voice rough. 

“You sound proud of it. But you’re no more than a shadow, Jedi. A trick of light.”

“Perhaps,” Keons said, with neither pride nor shame. “But even shadows fall where light must reach. I do not come because I choose it. I come because the Force has drawn us here. To remind you of what you took… and what still lies before you.”

“Nothing lies before me,” Tyler snapped. His voice cracked with heat, yet hollow underneath. “If I am in the space between life and death, then I am about to die, am I not? I was pierced by your student. The one you trained not to take life unless it was in defense.” His breath grew sharp. “He struck me down when I was unarmed.”

“Tyler–”

“He killed me for no reason. He looked into me, saw my past. Our past. He saw what he wanted to see, and when he didn’t like it, he struck.”

Keons’ brow furrowed. 

“He didn’t–”

“No. Don’t you dare defend him.” Tyler’s voice trembled, half-rage, half-grief. “Killing me was not the Jedi way.”

“You aren’t dead, child.”

“Stop calling me that.” His sabers rattled at his belt as his fists curled.

“Is it not what you are? An apprentice. That makes you what… nineteen?”

“Enough.” His snarl cut the air. “I am grown. Do not deflect from the failure of your Padawan.” He spat the word as if it were poison.

“He did not fail.”

“Oh, but I did? Yes. Yes, of course. That makes sense. The Jedi Padawan slaughters an unarmed Sith, and I’m the one in the wrong? You Jedi are nothing but machines, bound to your brittle code, pretending it still matters.”

Tyler’s hands snapped to his hilts. Twin blades hissed to life, vomiting red into the void. The crimson glow licked at the black, yet the light seemed swallowed before it could reach far. He leveled them in a defensive stance, the Force around him taut with fury.

“Apprentice,” Keons said, voice calm as stone. “Is violence the only way you see out of this?”

“Out of what? I’m dead.” His breath tore ragged in his chest. “I’m already gone. But I won’t fall to a Jedi twice.”

Keons turned. His form glowed pale, unarmed hands falling loosely at his sides. He did not reach for a weapon. He simply faced away, cloak drifting as though in water.

And then Keons spoke, quiet, but his words cut like tempered steel:

“Instead of choosing differently, you are choosing the same path as my Padawan.”

“I am choosing not to fail,” Tyler snarled. His grip on his sabers trembled, the red glow crawling up his arms like veins of fire. “It’s what I was trained to do. To become a blade. And I failed to Joshua before, but I will not fail here. The Force itself will see my absolute power.”

Tyler lunged. His strike tore through the void, crackling with rage.

But Keons moved with a grace that seemed less motion than inevitability. A blade bloomed into his hand, brilliant emerald, its light warped by the ghostly blue fire that wreathed him. The two sabers collided with a violent hiss, green and crimson crashing, sparks fizzling against the nothingness.

Tyler bore down, teeth bared. The pressure of the ghost’s blade was steady, unyielding, yet weightless in a way that made Tyler’s muscles scream as he pushed harder. Memories flooded back.

Keons’ calm voice, his defense, his fall beneath Tyler’s killing strike. The old man’s face frozen in serenity, even as Tyler had driven him into the dirt.

“I killed you once, old man! I can do it again!” Tyler roared, his voice cracking with strain.

“I am already dead, Tyler.” Keons’ voice carried no fear, only a patient certainty. “You cannot kill what no longer exists.”

The words gnawed at Tyler’s fury. He snarled, broke the lock, and slashed again, blade after blade carving through the void, trying to catch Keons off guard. But the ghost was untouchable, each parry flowing like water, each step placed as though the fight had already been seen, already decided.

And then the thought struck Tyler, bitter and unwelcome. Keons was right. He was dead. But wasn’t Tyler, too?

Here in this liminal plane, wasn’t this nothing more than two shadows clashing? Two echoes, crossing blades in a place that remembered both life and death but belonged to neither?

He didn’t want to know. He had never wanted to know. Since his childhood on Raxus Prime, fear of death had stalked him like a phantom. Every fight, every lesson beaten into him by the Sith, had taught him one truth: if you feared death, you fought harder. Hard enough to make death fear you.

That was his only comfort. His only answer. To fight, and fight hard. To win.

And he had failed.

He knew he could have killed Joshua, should have killed Joshua, countless times. Duel after duel, strike after strike, the Padawan had been his to break. He had toyed with him instead, leading him closer to the shadows, savoring the cracks in the boy’s resolve. He could have ended him in an instant. But he hadn’t.

And then Joshua had struck him down, unarmed. Defenseless. No triumph. No lesson. Just a clean, humiliating wound.

The shame burned hotter than the crimson blade in his hand.

All Tyler wanted now was to claw his way back into his body, to rise, and to slaughter the Padawan where he stood. To prove he had not been beaten.

But here, in this place, all he had was Keons. And that would be enough.

He thought back to his final words before collapsing into the dark. Telling Joshua to let him go. To stay in the Light. To not fall for him. To leave Tyler behind, unworthy of healing.

Was it truth? Was it mercy, born of some last flicker of conscience?

Or had it been one more act of manipulation, one final pull on the Padawan’s heartstrings, meant to tempt him deeper into the dark where he might be remade as a Sith strong enough to save him?

Both answers lingered. Both intrigued him.

And as his sabers clashed with Keons’ again, Tyler felt the weight of the truth he would not admit.

He did not know which of those answers he wanted more.

—

Josh pressed harder into Tyler’s torso, the skin and tissue underneath mending, slowly, but not quickly enough. Tyler’s body was paling by the second. His lips had gone faint blue, his chest rising and falling so shallowly it could hardly be called breath at all. He was alive, barely.

“What have I done?” Josh whispered. The words cracked as tears spilled freely down his cheeks. He closed his eyes, reaching inward, desperate for the Force, for anything to stop the life from slipping away.

The current swirled around him. Warm. Cold. Endless. The Light brushed his fingertips, offering calm, offering release. And beneath it, coiled and waiting, the Dark beckoned. Seductive, insistent.

Pull deeper, it whispered. Take what you need. Draw life from the river and pour it into him. Restore what has been lost.

Josh’s breath hitched.

He knew the truth of it: what most called Force healing was not the simple miracle it appeared. To mend flesh and knit bone required balance, a channeling of the Living Force itself. But to sustain life where death had already taken hold? That was different. It meant borrowing from the Force. It meant taking, drawing on a current not freely offered.

Most Jedi never attempted it. Many Masters considered it a dangerous heresy, one step away from corruption. The body could be mended, yes, but at a cost, paid by the one healing, or by the fragile balance of the Force itself.

Josh didn’t care.

He wanted Tyler to live. He wanted him to breathe again, to open his eyes, if only so Josh could apologize… and then walk away. Abandon the mission. Return to Coruscant. 

He knew now what he had refused to admit from the start: he wasn’t strong enough to save Tyler. Not from the dark. Not from himself. The Council had known this too and still they had sent him. Still they had given permission.

The Council.

The thought made him shudder. He could already hear their judgment. To cut down an unarmed opponent, even a Sith, was not justice. It was execution. And the truth was damning: Tyler hadn’t been striking when Josh drove his blade home. He had been defenseless.

Would the Council believe that?

Could Josh lie to them?

The Code answered before he could.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony.

Lying was no less a betrayal than killing in anger. Both were transgressions. Both had consequences.

Josh pressed his palms harder against Tyler’s torso, trembling as he poured the Force into him.

“Please,” he whispered. “Don’t leave me like this.”

He was trapped. Caught between the Code and the Dark. Between his oath and his heart. Between a rock and a home.

And the only way forward, he realized, was to break something.

Himself.

Josh’s breath trembled as he pressed his hands over the wound, his vision narrowing to a single point of focus. He drew, clawing at the Force with desperate hunger. He stole from the air, from the earth, from the pulse of life all around them. He stole from himself.

It burned. Power surged in black rivers down his arms, spilling from his palms in a glow that was not light but something far more raw, far more dangerous. His body shuddered, muscle and bone weakening, as if each heartbeat cost him years. But the Dark whispered promises and he could not deny its strength.

Tyler’s chest spasmed under his touch, a wet gasp tearing from his lips. Color returned in faint strokes to his skin, veins knitting, flesh sealing with every flicker of shadow pouring into him. His eyes fluttered beneath his lids, his brow creased as if resisting a dream.

The Dark crowded in, pressing on Josh’s mind, filling it with jagged thoughts. It whispered of power, of dominion, of all the ways this moment could belong to him if he simply let go. His jaw clenched, sweat rolling down his temple as he fought to anchor himself in the truth of why.

He wasn’t doing this for power. He wasn’t doing this for himself. 

But the Dark didn’t care. And it was winning.

—

Tyler’s blades spun in a storm, parrying each strike from Keons. Again. Again. Sparks flared in the endless dark of the void, illuminating the liminal plane like fleeting stars. With every clash, every heartbeat, Tyler felt himself swelling with power. Stronger. Faster. The Dark whispered through him like fire on dry grass, eager to consume.

He stepped back, twin sabers dangling loose at his sides. He twirled them idly before snapping into a flourish, lips curling into a snarl.

“You feel it, don’t you, Jedi?”

Keons stood as though the storm around him did not exist. His blade hung low, tip grazing the unseen floor. His voice was calm, his presence unshaken, a pillar in the void.

“I feel nothing but peace, Apprentice.”

“Liar.” Tyler’s voice cracked with venom. “You feel fear. You feel loss. You know you’re going to lose. Again.”

“I cannot lose,” Keons answered, his gaze steady, “if I have already lost, son.”

The word struck like a blade. Tyler’s sabers snapped back up, his stance coiling. His voice rose in a raw shout.

“Don’t call me that! Don’t ever call me that!”

Keons did not flinch. He only regarded him with something between sorrow and patience, like a father watching a child stumble.

“Tyler. Reach inward. Remember why you told Joshua to let you go.”

Tyler faltered. His blades wavered.

“What?”

“Why you told him you didn’t deserve to live. To be saved.”

His sneer rose quickly to cover the crack in his mask.

“I was toying with him. Manipulating him. Forcing him to heal me so I wouldn’t perish by his hand.”

Keons shook his head slowly.

“Or were you afraid? Afraid to die. Afraid to face defeat at last.”

“I wasn’t defeated. I was... I was caught off guard.”

“And is that not defeat?” Keons’s voice sharpened now, striking true. “What would Bourbaki say of such weakness?”

“Enough!” Tyler roared, sabers igniting once more, red light flooding the void. “You’re trying to get in my head!”

“I already am in your head.” Keons’s voice was soft, but unyielding. His eyes hardened. “Where do you think we are?”

The words hit like a detonator. Tyler’s gut twisted, and then memory surged. Hot, searing, unbearable. A saber lancing through his torso. The smell of his own burning flesh. The sensation of his knees buckling, of cold earth beneath him. The wound was there, alive again, agony swallowing him whole.

His sabers slipped from his hands, clattering into silence as he dropped to his knees, clutching his chest.

“No-” He gasped like a drowning man. His nails tore at his skin, desperate to find the wound. But there was nothing. Only flesh. Only phantom fire. "W-what are you doing to me?” he rasped, collapsing forward into the void’s black soil. “S-stop.”

Keons strode toward him, his saber humming, green glow painting Tyler’s face in ghostly light. He leveled the blade at Tyler’s throat.

“Please…” Tyler’s voice cracked into a whisper, raw and trembling. “Enough.”

The hum filled the silence. Then, nothing. The blade vanished with a hiss.

Tyler blinked, confusion breaking through pain as Keons knelt, lowering himself to one knee. A steady hand settled upon his shoulder.

“Why…why are you sparing me?” Tyler’s voice shook, as much from disbelief as torment. “Kill me.”

“I cannot kill someone who can yet be saved.” Keons’s gaze softened, though sorrow lingered in its depths. “And you, Apprentice…are closer to the Light than you believe.”

Tyler swallowed hard, the agony still thrumming through his veins. His lips curled faintly, bitterly.

“I am too far gone.”

“No one is too far gone.” Keons’s voice was quiet, unwavering, as if he spoke an eternal truth. “Let me guide y-”

He stopped.

His words strangled in his throat. His body stiffened, eyes snapping wide as if pierced by something unseen. His breath hitched, terror flooding him, stark and raw.

“No…” he whispered. His hand rose to his lips, trembling. His gaze darted past Tyler, into some vast current of the Force, eyes widening further with dread. “No…”

The fire in Tyler’s chest vanished. The wound was gone. The pain snuffed out as if it had never been.

Tyler gasped, clutching at himself.

“What? What is it?”

Keons’s voice was hoarse, broken, the name falling from his lips like a death knell.

“Joshua.”

For a heartbeat, silence stretched across the void. Then Tyler’s breath steadied. His confusion drained, replaced with a razor’s edge of awareness.

And slowly, with blood still on his lips and phantom pain still seared into his chest, Tyler smiled.

Because he knew. He had won. His desperation, his plea, his snare had worked. Joshua had reached into the Dark to save him.

And the chains had closed.

—

Josh felt the power flood him. It wasn’t the gentle current of the Light he had once known. It was a raging tide, dark and all-consuming, wrapping itself around his bones like chains and fire. 

Every second he held on, Tyler’s life grew stronger beneath his hands. Color bled back into the apprentice’s cheeks, the wound knitting until it was nothing but a pale scar.

And with each breath Tyler drew, Josh felt less like a Jedi.

The Light was gone, smothered. His compass shattered. The Code, the oath, the teachings…ashes. All that remained was the Dark, whispering at the edge of his mind, twisting grief into power, guilt into fury, love into possession.

Josh’s lips curled into a smile, trembling at first, then steadier, almost serene. The tears streaking his cheeks dried, vanishing as though they had never been. He was no longer drowning. He was rising.

Tyler’s eyes snapped open. He jolted upright, gasping, his hands flying to the wound that was no longer there. Only a scar remained. Angry, fresh, but sealed.

“Jedi…” His voice shook, panic bleeding through. "What did you do?"

Josh stood. Slowly. Purposefully. Tyler’s gaze locked on his face, then widened. For the first time since awakening, fear flickered there. And beneath it, something else. Satisfaction.

“Your eyes…” Tyler whispered, disbelieving. “They…they’re red.”

Josh blinked, as if the act could wash away the corruption. But when he looked down at his hands, they were slick with crimson. Blood. His breath caught. Not with horror, but with fascination. He turned them over in the dim light, watching it drip between his fingers.

And he wasn’t disgusted. Not at all.

“I saved you,” Josh said, voice low, weighted with venom. “And you’re questioning me?” His mouth twisted into a sneer. “Where is my thanks? My gratitude?”

The anger surged through him like a second heartbeat, pounding in time with the blood in his veins. It felt ancient, inevitable, as though it had always been there, waiting.

Josh welcomed it. But another part of him did not.

Somewhere deep inside, buried beneath the fury and the fire, the Jedi still whispered. A quiet, steady voice, telling him to stop, that this wasn’t healing, this wasn’t mercy, this wasn’t the Code. It was as if the Jedi part of himself had been forced into the back of his mind, shackled, but not silenced. Watching. Waiting. Fighting to breathe.

Josh’s red eyes flickered, for a heartbeat, back to brown.

“I…I just wasn’t expecting you to have actually done it.” Tyler’s voice cut through, calm but laced with something sharp. He rose slowly, one hand still trailing over the scar where death had kissed him. His gaze was steady. “I saw your Master.”

Josh flinched, the mention of Keons striking at the buried part of him. But he pushed it down, hard, smothering the ache.

“You didn’t think I was powerful enough to save you?” Josh asked, his tone dangerous, desperate.

Tyler’s brow furrowed. He tilted his head, studying Josh like one might study a blade that had just been sharpened too thin. 

“That’s what you care about? Not your precious Master visiting me as I perished?”

Josh shook his head, his padawan braid brushing against his neck as if mocking him, a symbol of the boy he still was.

“He’s gone. He serves me no purpose now.”

Tyler blinked, startled at the dismissal, but instead of recoiling, his lips curled faintly. Amusement. Interest.

“You sound like me, Joshua.” A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “It’s… new.”

Josh stepped closer, the air between them taut with something neither of them named. His eyes searched Tyler’s. First the scarred certainty of a Sith survivor, then the faint tremor of curiosity in his smirk. His gaze dropped, almost unconsciously, to Tyler’s mouth, before locking back onto his eyes.

“Next time,” Josh whispered, his voice low, cold, yet shaking faintly, “keep your guard up. Dying unarmed is pathetic.”

And inside, the buried Jedi screamed at him.

“Oh? Maybe this is what I wanted,” Tyler whispered back, voice low, deliberate. His gaze flicked to Josh’s mouth, and he licked his lips. “Look at you. You’re right where I want you.” His hand slid across Josh’s belt, fingers brushing the space between saber and comm device, an echo of that moment before, when Josh’s blade had run him through.

Josh’s brow furrowed. He hadn’t thought of that.

For a heartbeat, the shadow within him faltered, the Jedi clawing up through the mire of darkness. Had he stumbled into another of Tyler’s snares? If he had let Tyler die, the Council would have cast him out. But in saving him, drawing upon the Dark, he had bound himself to it. It cradled him now, intoxicating, possessive, as if delighted by its newest toy.

Manipulated. Again. By the man before him.

“W-what did Keons say?” Josh rasped, voice thinner, strained, as though two versions of himself fought over the same breath.

Tyler bit down on his bottom lip, then stepped back, measured.

“Nothing. But we fought. In the space between the living and the dead,” he said flatly.

Josh narrowed his eyes.

“Who won?”

“I did.”

Mist clung to the swamp like a living thing, coiling around the gnarled roots and stagnant pools. Every sound was swallowed, save for the hiss of breath, the rasp of words cutting sharper than any blade.

“Lies.” Josh’s voice snapped through the gloom like the crack of a saber igniting. His eyes burned. “Keons is more skilled than you’ll ever be.”

Shock rippled across Tyler’s face, subtle but sharp, before settling into something cooler. The sudden steel in Josh’s tone had caught him off guard. He recovered quickly, lips curling in faint amusement.

“Interesting,” Tyler drawled, circling now, boots squelching against the sodden earth. “Remarkably, you still cling to the Light.” He gestured idly with one hand, like a lecturer dissecting a lesson. “You wield the Dark to save me, yet you clutch the Light like a child clinging to the last ember of a dying flame.” His lip curled, pity cutting across his features. “Disappointing.”

Josh shook his head violently, as if to dislodge the creeping truth. Words tumbled from his mouth, heavy and unsteady.

“I… I did what I had to do. To save you. To atone for what I did.”

Tyler’s pacing slowed, his eyes glinting with red fire.

“And why,” he asked softly, “did you strike me down in the first place?”

Josh’s voice cracked, raw.

“I don’t know.”

Tyler’s gaze sharpened, cruel. 

“Hmm, let's think back, shall we? It’s because I murdered your precious mother. Remember?”

Josh staggered back as though the swamp itself had shoved him. The name alone carried the weight of a planet crashing down, pressing the air from his lungs.

“You were doing what you were bred to do,” he forced out, jaw tight. “I don’t blame you.”

Tyler tilted his head, almost curious.

“You sure did when you buried a saber in me.”

“My subconscious…” Josh’s voice shook, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “It acted out of fear. Out of anger.”

Tyler’s smirk deepened. 

“Your subconscious dipped into the Dark. And a man died for it.”

Josh’s chest heaved, the fog around them stirring with each sharp breath.

“You aren’t dead. I didn’t kill you.”

“I’m not speaking of myself, Jedi.” Tyler’s voice coiled like a serpent. He began pacing again, slow, deliberate steps through the muck, hands clasped behind his back like a predator savoring the hunt.

Josh frowned, confusion mingling with unease.

“You killed the version of yourself that existed before,” Tyler said, teeth flashing in the dim light. “That innocent Padawan is ash. Only the scarred, blood-soaked creature remains.”

“I saved you,” Josh growled, the words catching in his throat.

“You defied the Order,” Tyler countered, voice a blade honed on venom and silk. “You stole from the Living Force. You are no Jedi.”

Josh’s chin lifted stubbornly, his braid brushing his neck like a chain.

“I am,” he hissed, desperation clawing at the edges of his voice. “I am a Jedi.”

Tyler leaned closer, his eyes burning like embers in the mist.

“Tell that to your precious Council.”

“They don’t need to know.”

Tyler’s smile widened, cruel and certain. He leaned back, pacing once more, every step deliberate, every syllable designed to unravel.

“They already do.”

Josh’s heart clenched. Tyler’s gaze fell to his belt, Josh’s gaze followed, and horror dawned. The comm was active. Their every word had been spilling into the ears of the High Council. The SOS beacon pulsed, a silent flare. Help, or judgment, was already on its way to Dagobah.

His stomach dropped. The red in his eyes bled back to brown, the shadow retreating, folding itself deep inside him.

His hand trembled as he snapped the comm silent.

“You,” he breathed, voice breaking. “What have you done?”

Tyler only spread his hands, feigning innocence.

“What have I done? This was all you, Joshua.” Tyler’s voice dripped mockery, smooth as venom. “We were having a lovely day, before someone decided to stab me, then heal me.”

Josh stood frozen, his breath shallow. The silence pressed against his ears, broken only by the restless whisper of Dagobah’s swamps. The air was heavy with moisture, alive with unseen things that croaked and hissed in the muck. He didn’t know what to do. Or say.

“What did Keons tell you?”

Tyler pinched his brows together, then laughed. A harsh, cutting sound. 

“Still circling back to Keons? And the Jedi?” He shook his head, almost pitying. “It’s pathetic how hard you clutch at that compass of yours. Always pointing you toward a Light that is burning out.” His grin widened. “Plus, you are so much more attractive as a Sith.”

Josh’s jaw clenched.

“What did he say?” He stepped forward, closing the space between them, his voice firm, demanding.

Tyler let his eyes travel slowly down and back up, measuring him, before meeting Josh’s gaze. 

“He scolded me. For what I am.”

“Liar.”

Tyler laughed again, sharp canines flashing.

“Tsk-tsk. Someone knows their Master.” His gaze dropped briefly to the earth, then lifted, crimson eyes catching Josh’s. He took one deliberate step closer. “He told me…I could be saved.”

Josh frowned, surprise breaking through his composure.

“And what did you say?”

For a moment, Tyler faltered, shaken, almost startled that Josh cared for the answer. His voice softened, just a hair.

“I said I was too far gone.”

“No one is–”

“-too far gone. Yes, I know.” Tyler’s grin was back, mocking. “The same tired refrain your Master preached. Word for word.” He shrugged lazily. “You know, you and your old man are more alike than you’d ever admit.”

“Tyler, there’s time.” Josh’s voice carried urgency now, almost pleading. “Come with me. To Coruscant. Explain what happened here. Tell the Council what Keons told you.” He reached out, grasping Tyler’s hand with a firm, desperate grip. “I can save you again.”

Tyler recoiled instantly, tearing his hand free, his smile twisting cruel.

“You did not save me. You did exactly what I wanted. You fell to the Dark, used its power to stitch me back together, and now it stains you. Forever.” His eyes gleamed. “No matter how you cling to the Light, the Dark has a home in you now. And it will choke the Light until nothing remains.”

Josh’s voice rang out, defiant.

“The Dark may live in me, but the Light lives in you.” He steadied himself, lowering his tone into something softer, more resolute. “We’re mirrors, Tyler.”

“Ah,” Tyler mused, tilting his head, “using my own words against me?”

“Not against you,” Josh said firmly. “Because you were right. We are the same.”

Tyler’s face hardened, his voice venomous. 

“We are not the same.”

Josh stepped forward again, pressing him back until Tyler’s shoulders struck the gnarled trunk of a swamp-tree. The bark rasped against him, the mist swirling like smoke around their locked stares.

“You are as good as you are evil,” Josh said, eyes fierce. “I know it. If Keons believed you could be saved, then I will make it my mission to save you.”

Tyler barked out a bitter laugh.

“Your precious Council will never allow it once they learn what you’ve done.” His sneer was cruel, deliberate. “Do you realize what fate awaits Jedi who fall? The Temple Guards will strip you of your rank. Your saber will be taken. You will be bound in chains, paraded before the High Council. They will test your will in the Vault of Reflection, tear your mind apart searching for corruption. And if they deem you too far gone?” His eyes gleamed with relish. “You’ll be exiled. Cast into the Outer Rim to waste away. Or worse, sealed in stasis within the Temple’s depths, a prisoner of the Order you swore to serve.”

The swamp seemed to hold its breath. Josh’s throat tightened, but his gaze did not waver.

“I deserve the punishment,” Josh said quietly, his voice shaking but resolute. “For what I’ve done…and what I plan to do.”

Tyler’s brow furrowed, suspicion flickering across his face.

“Plan to do?”

Josh didn’t answer with words. He surged forward, his mouth crashing against Tyler’s, the kiss sudden, desperate, almost violent. His hands framed Tyler’s blood-streaked face, fingers digging in as if to hold him in place, to keep him from vanishing.

Tyler answered at once, arms locking around Josh’s waist, pulling him close with a force that bordered on possessive. Their lips collided again and again, frantic, bruising, a clash as fierce as any saber duel. The swamp fell silent around them, the only sound their ragged breaths and the wet press of mouths too starved to stop.

Josh was undone. Not to the Dark, not yet. But to Tyler? Entirely. He didn’t know where the need ended and the betrayal began. All he knew was that when Tyler had fallen, when his blade had opened him and his body had stilled, something inside Josh had cracked open. He had mourned. He still mourned. Not an enemy, not even a comrade, but the thought of never again hearing Tyler’s laugh, never feeling his touch, never tasting his lips.

He pressed harder, desperate, as if kissing could mend the wound inside his chest. His eyes squeezed shut, trying to hold back the flood. Was it power that drew him in? The danger? The fact that Tyler looked at him as if he were more than a Padawan, more than a boy still learning to be a man? Or was it simply because this was all new? He had never been with anyone, never given himself to anyone.

Was this what it always felt like? To want someone so completely that it bent your convictions, warped your compass, made you question the very path you had sworn to follow?

Tyler broke the kiss first, breath sharp as he pulled back. Josh’s eyes snapped open, dazed and wide, his chest heaving. Tyler’s gaze locked with his, and they were not crimson. They were brown.

“What did you mean,” Tyler asked softly, voice low, “when you said…‘what I plan to do’?”

Josh’s chest constricted, words clawing in his throat.

“Nothing,” he muttered. Then louder, stumbling. “I...I have to go.”

He turned, mud sucking at his boots, but Tyler’s hand shot out and clamped around his wrist like iron.

“Where?” Tyler demanded, his voice breaking through the hush of the swamp. His brows were knit tight, his grip trembling. Not from weakness, but from something more dangerous. Need.

“Anywhere,” Josh breathed. “The Outer Rim. Somewhere I can disappear. Somewhere the Council can’t find me. Away from their eyes. Away from their judgment.” His voice cracked, almost childlike, the fear beneath it laid bare.

He was nineteen. Barely more than a boy. And the thought of exile, of Temple chains, of living as a prisoner to his own vows, it terrified him more than death.

Tyler’s grip tightened. His voice was fierce, urgent.

“Come with me.”

Josh’s head snapped toward him, disbelief and pain carved into his face. For a breath he froze, and beneath the stillness a storm of thoughts roared so loud it nearly drowned out the swamp.

He shouldn’t want him. The notion rang in his mind like metal struck in a deserted temple. He ought to want Tyler dead. He had seen Keons fall beneath that blade. He had seen his mother struck down. He should be disgusted. Angry. Vengeful. He should be calling for guards, chains, justice. He should.

And yet, all he wanted, was to say yes.

To go with Tyler. Wherever it meant. However it meant.

“Come with me,” Tyler repeated, voice low.

Josh swallowed; his throat had gone dry. For a moment there was only the quiet sounds of the swamp and the slow hiss of distant creatures. He did not know whether the next breath would be courage or surrender. He only knew which felt like survival.

"I... I am not going to your Sith homeworld.”

“You fool.” Tyler rolled his eyes, red flickering faintly in them before retreating again to brown. His grip on Josh’s wrist tightened. “Not there.” His voice dropped to a low, insistent growl. “Think. Where is the last place the Jedi would look for you?”

Josh’s belt chimed. The SOS beacon blinked more urgently now, a pulsing light in the mist. Someone was closing in on Dagobah. His heart lurched. He yanked it free, hurled it into the swamp’s darkness, where it vanished into the muck with a faint hiss.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, voice breaking. 

“Stars above,” Tyler scoffed, releasing him with a shove. “You are useless, Jedi.”

Josh’s face hardened, shame flickering through him.

“Naboo,” Tyler said at last, spitting the name like a command.

Josh shook his head, almost laughing at the absurdity.

“But–”

“If your vaunted Council is so clever,” Tyler cut him off, eyes narrowing, “they’d never think to look there. They’d assume you’d flee. Hide on some nameless world in the Outer Rim.” A cruel smile ghosted across his lips. “But to go home? To the very soil that birthed you? They’d never believe it. And that is why you’ll survive.”

The swamp stirred then, as though the planet itself disapproved, its air heavy with choices that could never be undone. Mist coiled low around their boots, shadows shifting in the dense, alien foliage.

“If they come here and find nothing, no one, they’ll know something is wrong,” Josh said, voice sharp with panic. “They heard what happened over the comms.”

“Then let me stay behind,” Tyler replied, steady, dangerous. “I’ll draw them away… I’ll create a diversion.”

Josh’s chest tightened.

“And if you don’t make it out?”

Tyler tilted his head, a faint, mocking smile curling his lips.

“Padawan… have I ever not made it out?” He stepped forward, closing the last of the space between them. “I am Tyler Joseph, Sith apprentice under Darth Bourbaki.” His hand slipped around Josh’s neck, the grip firm, possessive. His voice was silk and steel. “I am the example of absolute power.”

Josh swallowed hard, trembling under the weight of his presence. 

“You were dead mere moments ago.”

“And yet…” Tyler’s breath ghosted against his skin, his eyes burning with a fire Josh had never seen before. “I feel alive again.”

He moved in, lips claiming Josh’s with sudden force. What began as sharp and demanding softened with every heartbeat, every pull, until Josh was kissing him back, desperate, clinging and consumed. The swamp melted away, the wet earth, the gnats, the stench of rot. Forgotten. Their galaxy narrowed to touch, to heat, to a current of power that threatened to swallow them whole.

Then, the low, thunderous hum of repulsors cut through the canopy above. A ship. Close. Hunting the both of them.

Josh jerked back, panic sparking in his chest.

“They’re here.”

“Go.” Tyler’s voice cracked like a whip, sharp and certain. “Get to your ship. Fly low, below their scanners. Stay dark until you clear the system, then jump to hyperspace. Naboo.”

Josh’s breath came fast, fear and confusion tangled into a single knot.

“But, how will I find you?”

Tyler’s hand lingered against his cheek, thumb brushing the grime and blood with startling tenderness. His eyes glinted with a promise that felt as dangerous as it was intoxicating.

“Don’t worry about that,” he whispered, low. Certain. “I will find you, Jedi.”

Josh’s heart thundered, so loud it drowned out the swamp itself. Reckless, unthinking, he seized Tyler’s tunic, dragging him close. Their lips crashed together in a kiss that burned like a brand. Fear, fire, and something dangerously close to devotion colliding in one impossible moment.

And then, gone. Josh tore himself away, breath ragged, stumbling back into the swamp as the engines above roared like a coming storm.

Confused. Terrified. And yet, for the first time since Naboo, he felt free.

He sprinted, branches clawing his face, mud exploding under his boots. His lungs screamed for air, but he didn’t stop. Panic coursed with his blood, excitement sparking through his veins like lightning.

What am I doing?

He had been sent here to capture Tyler. To convert him. To prove himself worthy of the Order. And yet, in mere days, he had fought him, bled with him, lain with him, kissed him, killed him and saved him.

And now, instead of returning to the Council as duty demanded, he was running. Running blind. Running with no plan, no destination, only the pounding of his heart.

What future do I have with the Jedi now?

The panic tightened around his chest until he could hardly breathe.

Then...

A scream. Piercing. Raw. Agonized.

Josh’s body locked. His blood froze.

The sound. He knew it. That same broken cry, the one that had torn from Tyler’s throat when Josh forced his broken body back to life.

Tyler.

But layered beneath the scream, vibrating through the swamp’s fetid air, Josh felt it. The Force. Wrong. Distorted. A disturbance so heavy it pressed against his lungs. This wasn’t the Jedi. No calm center. No light. What swirled ahead was fire, smoke, and shadow.

His heart lurched.

The Council hadn’t come. The Jedi weren’t here.

The Sith were.

Josh pivoted, sprinting harder, lungs tearing open as his boots slipped in the muck. He vaulted roots, crashed through vines, every nerve screaming, the Force roaring around him like a storm. His body was panic, desperation, fury, until...

He burst into the clearing. And his breath stopped.

Tyler was on his knees, head bowed, smoke curling from a fresh saber-burn scorched across his neck. His body trembled but did not fall.

Standing over him, cloaked in shadow deeper than the swamp itself, was a Sith Lord. The very air recoiled around him, heavy and suffocating.

Darth Bourbaki.

Josh’s heart stuttered. His hand snapped to his belt, thumb slamming the ignition. A blue blade blazed to life with a snap-hiss, the light cutting through the darkness. His grip trembled, but his voice tried for steel.

“Step away.”

The Sith did not move. Tyler stayed bowed on the ground, shoulders heaving, alive but silent.

“I said step away!” Josh strode closer, saber raised.

The hooded figure turned. His face was a ruin of age and shadow, but his eyes, molten gold bleeding into crimson, glowed with fire enough to hollow stars.

“Ah,” Bourbaki purred, voice thick with malice, dripping like oil on flame. “There you are.”

He stood beside Tyler, withered fingers curling beneath his apprentice’s chin, forcing his face upward.

“Good work, Apprentice. He came exactly as you promised.”

Josh’s breath hitched. The words struck harder than any blade.

Tyler staggered, trembling, shrinking from his master’s touch, but still, still he would not meet Josh’s gaze.

“The Jedi will be here any moment,” Josh snapped, though his voice cracked at the edges. “I'm sure of it. You will fall here.”

Bourbaki chuckled, slow and deep, and laid a skeletal hand across Tyler’s shoulder.

“You poor fool. So eager to believe. My apprentice spun you in circles, and you never even knew.”

Josh’s grip faltered. His chest hollowed.

“You’re lying.”

The Sith Lord’s hand rose. With a flick, the Force yanked something from the brush. It landed in his palm with a dull clatter. Josh’s tracker beacon. Dark. Dead.

The color drained from Josh’s face.

“No…” His voice broke. “That’s not possible. I saw it. I heard the signal. I...”

Bourbaki’s smile widened, a predator savoring the moment.

“Oh, Padawan,” Bourbaki hissed, savoring the word. “You don’t even recognize when the Force is bent against you.” His grip on Tyler’s shoulder tightened, claws digging through fabric. “Tell him.”

Josh’s eyes darted to Tyler, searching, begging.

Tyler finally lifted his head. His eyes gleamed, not gold, not Sith red, but a deep, venomous maroon.

Josh’s stomach plummeted.

Tyler’s lips pressed into a thin line, as though the words themselves burned to speak. 

“The beacon never lit. It was me.”

Josh blinked, throat tightening.

“What?”

“I used my ability,” Tyler confessed, voice heavy with venom and something dangerously close to regret. “I projected it into your mind. The blinking light, the signal, the sound. All of it. I used your own fear of the Council against you.”

The swamp seemed to fold in, suffocating. Mist thickened, shadows pressed closer. Every drip of water, every insect hum was drowned beneath the thunder of Josh’s pulse.

“You…” His throat tightened, the word torn raw. “You lied to me. You tricked me.”

“I saved you.”

“You–”

Josh’s words broke off as his body snapped into the air. His throat constricted, breath cut short. His saber clattered to the ground, its blade hissing into silence.

Bourbaki’s hand hovered in the air, curled like a claw.

“Fight back, Padawan,” the Sith Lord coalesced, his voice a rasp that reverberated like metal striking stone. His grip tightened, Josh’s lungs burning. “The Dark has already touched you. Stained you. Use it. Call upon the fury that lurks in your marrow.”

Josh clawed at his throat, veins bulging, but his eyes cut toward Tyler. The Sith apprentice refused to meet his gaze.

“N–never,” Josh rasped, barely audible.

Bourbaki’s fingers clenched. Then, with a flick, he hurled Josh down like discarded prey. The Padawan struck the ground hard, the impact rattling his ribs, the air ripped from his chest. He rolled onto his side, choking, coughing against the dirt and leaves.

“Pathetic,” Bourbaki spat. He shoved Tyler forward. “Break him.”

Tyler hesitated, then nodded stiffly. 

“As you wish, my Lord.”

Tyler’s words cut the mist like steel. His boots sank into the muck with each step, deliberate, heavy, as if every pace dragged chains behind him. He raised a trembling hand toward Josh.

“Tyler…don’t…” Josh rasped, one hand clutching his throat, the other clawing uselessly through wet foliage. His chest rose in frantic, shallow bursts.

“Do it,” Bourbaki ordered, his eyes flaring like molten coals beneath the hood.

Tyler’s jaw clenched. His gaze bled crimson. His fingers curled into a fist and the world shattered.

The swamp peeled away, dissolving into smoke and ash. Josh staggered, choking as his lungs filled with phantom fire, his skin chilled to bone. Then, darkness.

He blinked, unsteady, the air thick with the stench of ozone and death. Before him unfolded a nightmare: himself, saber ignited, blade plunging into Tyler’s chest. Again. And again. Each thrust the same. Each collapse the same. Tyler’s body fell, only to rise anew and die once more, an endless cycle of slaughter at Josh’s own hand.

“No…” Josh staggered backward, hands trembling violently. His voice cracked as if the word itself scraped his throat raw. “No, stop...stop it!”

Tyler appeared before him then, not the crumpled corpse, but whole, breathing, alive. Yet his eyes glowed with that cruel red, his expression caught between guilt and defiance, head tilted like a predator dissecting prey.

“Hm. Odd. I didn’t choose this,” Tyler said, his voice carrying an uncanny resonance that echoed through the vision-space. He flicked his gaze toward the looping cycle of his own deaths. “The Force chose. It picked the shape of your fear.” His eyes narrowed, searching Josh. “This is what you dread most? Killing me?”

Josh’s throat locked. His chest heaved with the effort of breathing.

“I fear killing anyone.”

A glimmer of cruel amusement flickered crimson in Tyler’s gaze.

“No. Not anyone. Only me. You fear killing me, and yet, you already did.”

Josh shook his head violently, his voice breaking into splinters.

“No, it wasn’t me. It was the Dark. I told you this. You know this!” His eyes snapped back to the endless deaths, to his own arm rising and falling like a machine, merciless, inescapable.

Desperation tore at him.

“Was all of it a lie? Naboo? The beacon? Running? Finding me? Was any of it real?”

For the briefest moment, Tyler faltered. His crimson eyes flickered brown, and a ghost of a frown curved his lips. A shake of his head, almost imperceptible.

“If you believed any of that was real,” Tyler whispered coldly, the color bleeding back to red, “you are truly pathetic. The worst Jedi I've ever had the displeasure of meeting.”

Josh’s breath hitched, his chest convulsing with the weight of it. Still, he forced the words out, trembling.

“It’s just you and me in here. No masks. Be honest.”

“No.” Tyler’s voice hardened, his crimson gaze blazing like coals in the dark. “You’re in my world now, Jedi.”

“Tyler-” Josh’s voice cracked open raw, pleading.

For one heartbeat, Tyler’s posture softened. His eyes darkened back to brown, fragile, human again.

His voice broke as he whispered, “You will see why I am what I am.” His gaze fell. “I am sorry for what I have to do.”

Confusion ripped through Josh, tearing at his chest. He reached for him instinctively, but his arms locked against invisible chains. His body dragged downward, bound by iron weight. He collapsed to his knees, gasping as the vision pressed down like crushing gravity.

And then, like a candle snuffed by a single breath, everything vanished.

The swamp returned in a rush of sound. Buzzing insects, shifting mist, the croak of unseen creatures.

“Break him,” Bourbaki commanded, his tone a decree. Low. Absolute.

“Master–” Tyler’s voice faltered, his fingers curling as though caught in invisible chains.

“Do not withhold your strength. You’ve impressed me thus far. I can feel the Dark coursing through him. I can taste the rot spreading through the Padawan. Break him.”

Tyler’s jaw locked. He lifted his hand, and squeezed.

Josh staggered as the Force ripped into him. Limbs seized, joints screamed, the sensation of being torn apart from the inside lanced through his body like molten iron. He collapsed into the muck, a strangled cry tearing from his throat.

Tyler’s eyes burned crimson, his features twisted into something feral. He pressed harder. The Force ground into Josh’s bones, sharp, merciless.

Josh screamed. His voice split the swamp, echoing off vines and stagnant water.

And for a heartbeat, Tyler faltered. Red bled to brown. His hand shook. His chest rose in ragged breaths as if the sound of that scream had hooked into his soul.

Then Bourbaki’s voice slid closer, a serpent’s hiss.

“Do not hesitate. Pain is truth. Break him.”

Tyler’s face twisted, rage overtaking mercy. Crimson flared back into his gaze, scorching away the brown. His fist clenched, twisting sharply. Josh’s body arched violently, a broken sob wrenching from his chest.

“S-Stop–” Josh rasped, throat raw, vision swimming.

Brown flickered again. Tyler’s chest heaved. Sweat streaked down his temple. The sight of Josh writhing cut into him. His lips parted as if to speak, but snapped shut, jaw grinding.

“More!” Bourbaki roared, his power thundering across the swamp, the very mist shuddering with his command.

Tyler’s hand dropped like a guillotine. The Force struck Josh square in the chest, ripping him off his feet. His body smashed into the trunk of a gnarled tree, bark shattering under the impact. White-hot pain exploded in his vision.

He slid down the trunk, coughing blood into the mud. Trembling arms braced against the ground, forcing his body upward. His muscles screamed, legs buckled, the world tilted. Still, he rose.

Josh spat crimson into the dirt and staggered into a stance, empty-handed, but unmistakably Jedi. His palms open, knees bent, every breath a defiance.

Tyler stepped forward, smiling faintly. The smile was haunting, eerily familiar. It was the same expression he’d worn on Corellia, the moment he’d struck down Master Keons.

Josh’s chest heaved.

“You don’t have to do this.”

Tyler tilted his head, cracking his neck as he slid into the coiled stance of a Sith duelist. His crimson eyes glowed like embers in the mist.

“Oh, I want to do this.”

Josh’s voice cut through the swamp, steady despite the tremor in his ribs.

“The same way you wanted to run to Naboo?”

Tyler snarled, snapping his arm to the side in a vicious strike. Josh darted in, throwing a desperate left hook.

Tyler’s palm slammed into his chest with unnatural force. Josh’s ribs crunched under the impact as he was hurled backward. He struck the mud with a sickening splash, breath wrenched from his lungs. The swamp spun, blurred, but still he rose, teeth gritted against the pain.

He slid into a guarded stance, fists raised. Tyler mirrored him, rolling his shoulders, crimson eyes gleaming with cruel anticipation.

Josh moved first. He blurred forward, Jedi agility carrying him in a tight front flip over Tyler’s strike. He landed behind, fists flashing in a flurry of jabs.

Tyler blocked high, but Josh read his movements like a script, slipping past his guard. His knuckles cracked against Tyler’s jaw, snapping his head to the side.

Josh dropped low, sweeping for his legs, but Tyler leapt, twisting midair, and drove a fist into Josh’s ribs on the way down. The blow landed like a hammer. Josh hit the ground hard, mud splattering across his face as he clutched his side.

Tyler loomed, shadow falling over him, voice thick with cruel amusement.

“Weak,” Tyler spat, circling Josh like a predator scenting blood. “You let the Dark flow through you once. Let it consume you again. When you pierced me, when you thought I was dead, the way you spoke after I awoke… it was intoxicating.”

Josh coughed, dragging air into aching lungs, mud streaked across his face. His gaze darted to Bourbaki, who stood motionless, skeletal hands folded, watching as though the swamp itself were his arena. Judge. Executioner.

“I… tried to save you,” Josh rasped, forcing the words past cracked lips. “Don’t… don’t play into this mask. Not just because he’s here.”

Tyler tilted his head, the movement sharp, animal-like. His lips curled into a crooked smile, eyes shimmering with Dark delight.

“Mask? Joshua… this is me. It always has been. You knew this.”

Josh forced himself upright, knees shaking but fists raised, saber still in hand though his grip trembled.

“No. I know you’re more than this. That boy from Raxus Prime… he’s still alive inside you.”

Tyler’s expression shifted, only for a flicker. A crack. But then it hardened, venom sharpening his voice.

“That boy is dead. I killed him myself. You saw it.”

He lunged and Josh twisted, slipping aside by inches, and drove a palm strike into Tyler’s chest. The blow landed hard, staggering him back a step.

Tyler laughed, breathless, the sound sharp and unsettling, echoing through the swamp.

“Careful, Padawan. Putting your hands on me with my Master watching? Not very appropriate.”

Josh spat mud and blood, his chest heaving like a bellows.

“Enough. I’m not going back to the beginning with you.”

Fangs flashed as Tyler smiled, the swamp’s sickly light catching in his eyes.

“Mhm...sure. Now, Joshua… this might hurt a little.”

His fist came quick, a blur through the shadows. Josh blocked one, but the second slammed into his ribs, stealing the breath from his lungs. A third cracked against his jaw, snapping his head to the side. He staggered back, and in the space of a heartbeat Tyler was on him, pressing him hard against the trunk of a twisted swamp tree.

Josh’s arms shot up instinctively, but Tyler caught his wrists with a single hand and pinned them high above his head. His strength was monstrous, unnatural, Josh strained, but it was like trying to bend durasteel.

Tyler leaned in close, their breath mingling, his gaze darting briefly, traitorously, down to Josh’s lips before sliding back up to meet his eyes. His grin was razor-sharp, laced with hunger and mockery both.

“You always were easy to pin down,” Tyler drawled, voice dripping with amusement. “Guess you just like having my hands on you.”

Josh’s chest hammered against Tyler’s, his body screaming to fight back, but his heart cracked at the sight before him. This wasn’t the boy who had shown him his past, who had spared him countless times. This was the monster from his nightmares, the one who had struck down Keons… his mother. And yet, here he was, close enough to feel the heat of him, his pulse torn between fury and something far more dangerous.

“Apprentice,” Bourbaki’s voice cut through the clearing, low and commanding, every syllable steeped in iron. “Enough playing with your food. Bring him with.”

Josh froze, horror creeping into his face.

“W-what? Bring me wi-”

He never finished.

Tyler’s fist shot forward, faster than Josh could brace. Bone cracked. Pain flared white. The swamp spun violently, its colors bleeding into nothing, the last thing Josh saw Tyler’s face, half-hesitant, half-devouring, as the world went black.