Perched on top of one of the many summits in the Or’ena mountain range on Kiast, only a few kilometers or so from the new Jedi Praxeum, the Velastari Temple is an old forgotten Vatali Jedi temple surrounded by mountain peaks on all sides. Thin wispy clouds and fog tend to linger around it when not otherwise blown away by the cold mountainous air channeled through the mountains. The hot suns of Kiast shine on this particular peak regularly, forming beautiful rainbows as the light reflects off the metallic surface of the Vatali structure. As a result, despite the temple’s heightened elevation, the Velastari Temple and its surroundings atop the peak are warm enough to not only support green vegetation, such as trees and grass, but also humanoid visitors, who can get by with a variety of layers depending on the season. In addition, the elevation makes the air breathable, the toxic fumes of the planet only residing in the lower atmospheres. Past the peak itself, the ground drops away quickly, forming dangerous ridges that travellers can use to travel from peak to peak.

Occupying a relatively flat portion of land on the summit, the Velastari Temple invokes the Jedi temples of old but with the classic design elements of the Vatali civilization and a few changes to suite the terrain. Hooded Vatali statues flank its entrance, the aged metallic stone having long lost its luster. The atrium of the temple is surrounded by four spiraling pillars and is filled in between with a cacophony of support structures, some of which include landing pads and storage. This once well-organized system of buildings has fallen into disarray, ancient machinery and debris breaking up any direct approach to the main temple itself. Long defunct droids, some partially scavenged, can be found throughout the atrium. As to the spiraling pillars, no one is quite sure if they are structurally sound, but they appear to have been watchtowers and may have possibly at some point served a secondary purpose due to the number of additional rooms within it.

Once one makes it past the atrium, the main temple itself comes into view, towering over the smaller spirals below. Like other ancient Jedi temples, it has many mysteries that will only reveal themselves to Force-users, unlocking portions of the temple one might assume didn’t exist. Its architecture is highly reminiscent of the old Jedi Order, though less grand in scale than its peers. Nevertheless, it has all of the remains of core components one would expect, such as a Jedi Council room, housing, a library, and training rooms. Few enter the temple itself unless undergoing trials and Odan-Urr does it best to preserve the Velastari Temple from further damage. This landmark serves as not only inspiration to the next generation of Jedi but also as a solemn reminder of the Jedi long gone.

Intent and purpose replaced jovial camaraderie, that day. Where Gui would typically stop and take in the scenery, bask in the winds soft touch, write a chorus for the bird's song, or merely marvel at the wonder of the Valastari Temple; his hand glided to the hilt of his lightsaber and goosebumps instantly peppered his skin as the coldness of the doonium could be felt through his gloved left hand. 

Barry chattered and clamored up the stone steps in pursuit as the tiny PIT droid had grown accustomed to the Kiffar's often careless pace. 

A man, trapped in his sights, stood at the mouth of the Temple with his arms stretched out, looking up at the architectural goliath. He was searching for something, through the Force. It whirled around him like water around stone. Gui could feel as much, the churning of the living Force. While he was still young, he had learned to trust in his feelings, it was especially important for a Sentinel. 

"By order of the Council of Urr!" Gui shouted as an orange blade slid from the aged metal cylinder in his hand. "You need to come with me, Cel." he leveled the blade, aiming the tip at the back of the Augur's head. A bout of nervousness began to cloud Gui's mind as the response wasn't what he expected. 

"Careful, boy," The man replied, refusing to break concentration, "you're poking the wrong hound." 

Gui grit his teeth and spoke again. 

"You will come with me, don't make this more difficult than it needs to be, you need to answer fo-"

"I need to do nothing of the sort," The tone of Celevon's voice shifted and it was no longer recognizable to the Kiffar, "Back away, now." 

"Is it true?" Gui could hardly believe that Celvon was the Sith behind Arcturus' ascension, "Answer me!" 

"I must find my Son, Gui, whatever the cost."

"Is your son worth the fall of th-" the man spun around, his eye like a golden star, overtaken by something Gui had only experienced during Tython's destruction. A violet blade screamed to life and like a whip, slashed upward to bat away the orange threat.

Gui's arm recoiled and he followed the blade's momentum as he spun away. Ataru had been a close ally in times where evasion was required, but its offensive nature persuaded him to flourish his weapon before diving in. 

A sneer creased Celevon's lips, or was it Kalas? Either way, he was none too pleased as his shoulders tensed and Gui's blade struck his, stopping as if it hit an immovable force. The Conjurer of Urr rolled his blade, trapping Gui's in a flurry of movement, his mind all the while tapping into the young Rollmaster's. The blades released and clashed again. Celevon could see Gui's past. The dull moans of the energized weapons added an eerie ambiance as they shrieked and popped upon reintroduction. Celevon saw a KUDF agent, a Kiffar. 

"Do you know how it feels to lose something, some-one, important to you?" Celevon growled as he leaned into a sizzling saber lock. 

Gui's eyes narrowed as his clan mate, his friend, unbeknownst to him, burrowed into his psyche like a parasite would its host. 

"Tell me of your father.." 

Gui's guard twitched and Celevon capitalized on the brief lapse of concentration, spinning low to sweep Gui from his feet. 

The Kiffar, for once in his life was focused as he leapt the sweep and landed on the balls of his feet, reconnecting with the stone of the peaceful temple. Celevon's anger welled up inside as he popped up and violently drove his lightsaber straight down from an overhead position. Gui easily evaded the maneuver and slid back using the Force for propulsion. 

"He was a good man, wasn't he?" Celevon stood, funneling the Force into his legs. Another growl tore free from his gaping maw as he launched himself forward, his blade dancing around his body, summoning the dark energies of the cosmos around it to create a symphony of destruction. It screamed once more, colliding with the amber blade of justice. Gui managed to block, he knew nothing of Celevon's form but the Force was with him, whispering in his ear moments before each one of the disciple's movements. 

Duck, parry, backpedal, duck. The duel was elegant to watch, but was as much a mental battle as it was a physical one. Celevon dipping into Gui's memoriesmemory bank, plucked fruit from the vine of the Kiffar's mind. 

"Then he died, shot down in the street like a rabid dog?"

Gui roared in that moment, feeling his patience break as he exploded with a violent flurry that for once during the fight put Celevon on the defensive. Where worry should have been present, a smile crept across the veteran's face. 

Stepping back, Celevon planted his back foot to halt any momentum Gui tried producing. His blade fanned out from different angles, slipping behind his back, shifting from his dominant hand to the other, all while Gui danced around him, his stamina and inner turmoil driving him. Celevon fought the onslaught, Gui's skill with a saber was better than he anticipated but he was not without his tricks.

 

The part-Echani had felt Gui Sol’s approach despite his focus, tracking the path of the son he had believed to have died almost seventeen years earlier. Celevon’s calm had been shattered by hurt the moment his friend, comrade and sometimes pupil within the Praxeum had delivered the accusation. The growl that had torn itself from his throat should have been a warning to the Kiffar, but the Techweaver had continued, drawing out the beast that slumbered within the Mandalorian.

Fueled by the years of distrust and suspicion directed his way by many within the Odanite ranks, Kalas had arisen to the surface, simmering with a cold rage. The weeks since the attack had had the Umbaran’s steps shadowed by members of the Sentinel Network and Knights of Odan-Urr alike. Whilst the suspicion had fallen upon him, Celevon had only considered it an annoyance and pushed it aside. However, the accusation from someone who had seen past the façade and truly believed he had forsaken his oaths?

The Rollmaster’s last words, indicating that his child was not worth finding, had burned through the durasteel self-restraint and he had snapped.

It may have been petty vengeance, but both personalities within the Mandalorian agreed that the Techweaver should feel the same hurt and be taught a lesson on presumptions. In the past, Gui’s recklessness and bold claims had been a source of amusement; now, however, it only served to irritate Celevon further.

Barely maintaining his own control, the Seeker had slid into what he considered serpentine tactics, what had earned him the nickname ‘Silver Serpent of the Lotus’. He had baited the younger man, drawing him in, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Unbalanced by his anger, the Kiffar drove forward wildly, ignoring the warning whispered like a voice in the wind.

As the Rollmaster brought his amber blade down, likely expecting Celevon to lock the plasma together with the crossguard and continue taunting, he fell for the deceptive nature of the Conjurer of Odan-Urr’s fighting styles. The Mandalorian dropped his lightsaber and side-stepped, both organic and cybernetic arms catching the younger male’s wrist and followed through on the Kiffar’s forward momentum.

Gui Sol twisted in mid-air, landing on the balls of his feet and backed away, his saber in a high guard.

Only... no follow-up attack came.

Instead, Celevon himself had backed up a step, hands raised at chest level and swaying as he took steps in an almost circular pattern. It took the Rollmaster another moment to realize that the Seeker wasn’t looking directly at him but... searching?

A familiar chittering made Gui’s heart almost stop in his chest, realizing that Barry the Pit droid had swept through and collected the Mandalorian’s discarded hilt at an opportune moment.

Almost as though he were watching in slow motion, the Kiffar saw the silver of Celevon’s eyes flit to the side and turn a molten gold. A snarl arose on his pale lips a heartbeat before violet-white energy leapt from his fingertips.

Barry chattered in alarm, barely dodging the attack as it leapt away to safety, still clutching the lightsaber.

Still maintaining the link to the Rollmaster’s mind, the Umbaran sensed the moment that Gui chose to attack in protection of his mechanical friend. His hands slid to his waist, unhooking the longer cylindrical hilt as he backed away. A viridian light sprang to life from either side, catching the amber in a violent connection of spitting plasma.

“Are we having fun yet, Gui?” The Seeker grinned in a wolfish manner, truly enjoying the exchange as he learned more about the other than he had ever realized.

The Techweaver looked disgusted, neither budging as they maintained the lock of sabers. “You’ve truly fallen, my friend. Attacking an innocent creature—”

“It’s a droid, not a living being,” Celevon retorted, harshly cutting off the younger man. He pulled away first, fluidly spinning his entire body as he blocked the amber with viridian, coming to a halt with the Lotus lightsaber held horizontally in his left. His organic arm was held out, balancing his stance.

“You don’t deny the fact that you’ve fallen!”

The Mandalorian sneered back. “I’m Umbaran, Kid. I never ‘fell’; darkness is in my nature.”

In the darkness, I am the light. In the darkness, I will stand and fight. In the darkness, the truth will shine. When I snuff it out, with this blade of mine. Gui recited his personal mantra, they were words that empowered him, words that brought him strength during his Sentinel training under the tutelage of the Knights of Allusis.

"Cute," the husk of Celevon sneered, still tethered to the Rollmaster's mind.

With an exhale, Gui slid forward and dipped his blade only for it to be swatted away by the whirlwind that Celevon had become. The pedals of the Lotus swaying to and fro as Gui's amber crashed into them. Crackles and pops of searing energy filled the air and Celevon twisted on his heels while fanning his blades. He couldn't get away, Gui tracked his target like a heat-seeking missile, attacking and flourishing his weapon with relentless resolve.

Sweat soaked the Umbaran's hair and Gui began to suck air into his lungs at a hurried pace. Both men were burning through swathes of energy, their internal fires smoldering in comparison to the inferno that raged moments ago.

It was true, Gui was the superior duelist, but Celevon was a wily foe, cunning and graced with experience. He felt the sting in his muscles and even though his cybernetics wanted to keep going, his body limited their function as Celevon backed away and took a step up, leading into the temple, Gui struck but it was blocked. Another step was taken, the serpent attempting to slither into the comfort of darkness. Gui struck again and took his first step up in pursuit. The staircase had become the battleground as Celevon lashed back, raining down a flurry of blows that temporarily put Gui in check as he rolled his blade and flicked it side to side to catch each stroke.

Mirroring one another, the two reached the top of the steps and spun, aligning their two open palms with one another. The surge of energy swelling up between them was like a powder-keg on the verge of combustion. Each face wrinkled with struggle as they called upon their invisible power, growling and snarling before one warrior gave into the seductive allure of fatigue.

Gui's elbow twitched and just like that, his focus dwindled enough for Celevon to blast him back into a pillar. Gui growled as he smashed into the unforgiving stone and slumped to his knees, chasing the breath that escaped his lungs.

"I don't want to have to kill you, Gui." the half-breed spat between breaths as he backed into the dark of the silenced temple. The glow of his weapons casting an eerie glow, splashing his visage with radiant color.

Gui clenched his fist and allowed a foreign emotion to wash over him. Was it the fear of failure, embarrassment perhaps?

No, it was anger. A beast that lay dormant for as long as he could remember. His fist clenched and he stood to his feet, looking at the hilt that began rolling away from him, attached to the strings of Celevon's will.

Tapping into his dwindling reserves of energy, to end it once and for all, Gui entered a sprint, rushing past his hilt and cast his hand down towards it. The metal construction rattled and shot to his gloved hand as he went airborne and ignited it.

Celevon flicked his tongue over his incisor and watched the rotating ember shadow enter the darkness, falling towards him.

Gui's perceptions screamed to him, he knew that Celevon would block, but he didn't anticipate the feint. Gui landed like a meteor strike, his blade caught. The secret would reveal itself in that moment as Celevon spun away from the lock and rolled his back blade in an encircling pattern that traced the limbs and head of the Kiffar. Gui screamed as the blade sliced through his thighs, continuing through his right shoulder, but narrowly missed his neck as he fell backwards.

Screams burst from his chest like a pent up beast as the blades cleanly melted through his flesh. His body fell flat and the glow of his sizzling nubs lit the floor, silhouetting his severed body parts.

Panting in agony and growling, Gui looked up at Celevon. A single tear slid down his cheek. But Werd'la, seemingly in a trance, took in a deep breath and looked down at Gui. His eyes grew wide and he fell to his knees.

"Gui, I'm sor-, wha-, stay calm." Celevon appeared to be in a state of restlessness, panic, as he placed his organic hand on the Rollmaster's forehead. He did not possess the skills that the Healers of Odan-Urr did. But he managed to silence the screams if only temporarily. "I have to get you to Artemis, trust me.. You have to trust me."

Gui faded to black as he slipped from consciousness. Celevon scooped him from the floor and rolled his wrist to activate his comm-link.

"Artemis, I need you."

The battle between the pair was as much mental as it was physical, Gui Sol realized as he took the time the Seeker was allowing him to regain his posture. Throughout the time they had worked together at the Praxeum, it had been ironic how often the Rollmaster, headmaster of Kiast’s own Jedi Academy had been the one to learn.

Teaching others, the Kiffar had come to notice, sometimes required him to watch and wait. To search for the telltale movements and subtle footwork of a form that would suit a particular student. Through this and as a result of his own studies under the Echani-Umbaran hybrid, he recognized the motion.

And immediately had to resist the bizarre urge to cock his head to the side in a manner reminiscent of a protocol droid, a clear tell in and of itself.

The subtle shift had taken place in the retort... had that been a compulsion?

“No. Negative,” rose from the depths of his consciousness...

Muscle memory honed throughout his own journeyman days rose to the forefront of his mind, sparring with the former High Councilor under the shrewd eyes of his Master—

The Kiffar’s shoulders went back as he moved to dodge, the purity of purpose within the crystal of his lightsaber stubbornly resisting his attempts as he dueled a blue-haired Zeltron—

The two flashes of memory abruptly stopped, each taking less than two heartbeats as his breathing grew louder within his ears...

A whisper across his senses... had it really been a warning? A vision of things to come? No. His gift of seeing into the currents of the Force wasn’t this precise—

Had he ever dueled the High Councilor with a katana? Error message flashes across a heads-up display on your sensor...old wiring erodes within a decades old droid, mimicking the effects of a shock-prod as the memory briefly flashes through his mind.

/query: Error communicati— initiate:reboo—

His gaze a burning emerald, the odd glow of his eyes reflected glittering firelight as he looked on what appeared to be a bank. The memory began to solidify around him... loud, barking laughter—

The metal doors would not open easily, considering the curvature of what appeared to be impact marks from either a dozen large-bore shatterguns at once or a directional, improvised mine.

—glancing down at the smooth, simple design of a remote detonator. Forty meters or less, based on the design, though the flames provided a reflection—

A painted face, hints of black grease around the mouth and eyes... bolting down a fourth oblong piece of explosive ordinance

Celevon—the Conjurer. More specifically, Kalas the jester-a sometimes cruel prankster...

A Trickster.

The Umbaran smirked back at him, unmoving as the organic eye had only a thin line of yellow remaining within its mercurial depths before the figure of the man seemed to vanish completely from his mind and everything went dark...

There was a whispering, though it was no language the Ranger could recall having heard before.

Although it felt as though hours had passed, only a minute had gone by when something seemed to pull the Rollmaster from a thick haze of confusion. When Gui Sol reopened his eyes, he was hit with a sense of wrongness, followed almost immediately by a rush of fear as he heard a panicked chatter out of his favored companion Barry.

The Kiffar frowned, reaching through the fog for the familiar gleaming hilt, the obstinate synthetic kyber crystal that had taken so long to shape.

In the collection of moments it took to register the sense of darkness as he had somehow wound up in the cave, his own hand reaching out, the frantic warning of his droid...

It was too late.

The crossguard lightsaber hilt, bearing the crystal that had once belonged to Kalas the Grand Inquisitor, the slayer of Krath, Obelisk and young students of Lyspair alike, slapped into the Kiffar’s bare hand.

In the heartbeat it took for the warning to come screaming through the Force; the realization that the Mandalorian had tricked him into summoning the wrong weapon by blending their similar memories together as Celevon possessed him... Followed the sense of renewed horror as he regained control of his body and felt the dark durasteel slap into his palm, triggering a memory that would lead into another...

---

~(Viewpoint Shift)~

Whilst the Kiffar had never experienced a melding in the Force like this, the Umbaran Seeker was well aware of the dangers of introducing that particular genetic ability to the superconducting loop the controlled mindset of the deceptive lightsaber form...

Especially when one considered that both Jedi and Disciple had partially given their control to the Force, subconsciously mirroring the other in a meld of Telepathic energy.

He knew it, but like the Krath Celevon had once been under a pseudonym at age seventeen, and the reckless youthful nature that lingered within the Jedi Techweaver, their shared curiosity proved to be their undoing.

While it could have easily destroyed both of their minds, the Conjurer of Odan-Urr maintained the link between their minds, curious as to how the bleeding effect would take hold if neither were to truly guide the memories associated within the crystal... The one the Mandalorian had created under the tutelage of the former Professor of Alchemy and Ritual studies.

Gui learned of the shared sentimental nature the collection of energy shared, from his own original crystal and head of his first Pit Droid — now his right shoulder pauldron— to the lightsaber first owned by Jadex Werd’la that had been restructured and later modified to suit the Arconan Assassin known as Celevon Edraven Erinos.

Neither was aware as their bodies were pulled from their static positions, reliving a scene from two years earlier.

The final death of the human formerly known as Jacen Edraven — adoptive brother of Tristan Magnuri, who would later take on the name Celevon — seemed to play out in slow motion in their nearly conjoined minds. Gui Sol played the part of Celevon Edraven Erinos, the Proconsul of Odan-Urr and Advisor to the Vatali Empress, that had been tasked to meet with a former ally.

Celevon played the older Umbaran, the one who had nearly passed away so many times, nearly half of his brain had been replaced with a positronic replication.

The duo seemed to blur together, Gui Sol sinking deeply into Vaapad as Celevon Werd’la balanced on the razor’s edge of the chaotic, forbidden Seventh form.

Neither were aware of the speeders that raced toward them, having been hailed by an unseen observer at the Praxeum, their duel having been felt and seen over those kilometers of Kiast’s mountainous region. Screaming indigo and ferocious viridian danced together as the Mandalorian’s unresolved guilt over the deaths of various family members and strangers of wars passed overwhelmed him, tipping the balance.

The Force shrieked a warning to both men as the Umbaran slipped along the edge from Vaapad, fully into the unpredictable bloodlust that defined the ancient Sith form...

A scream for medics and for both to stop through a nearby telepath tipped the scales, rushing the shared memories of the very different weapons to the forefront of their minds.

Celevon, in his unbalanced state within the untrained Juyo, led to another of the dangers of using advanced Force forms without the technical skill gave him a moment of hesitation, jerking back from a motion too quickly with the saberstaff. The Kiffar, unfamiliar with the intricate nature of the crossguard, jerked the violet blade back.

To the viewpoint of the Vatali Royal Guard that had arrived, as well as other Jedi of Odan-Urr, the Conjurer of Odan Urr had slipped fully into his own darkness and spun his body without following through on the final pivot, spinning the double-bladed plasma the wrong way.

Perhaps it was the Force itself, claiming retribution and restoring balance between the two combatants?

One of the active vents of the crossguard hilt were pushed back, a scream of absolute agony erupting from the mouth of the Rollmaster as it seared into his neck, before the Kiffar pushed back, knocking the Lotus lightsaber from his opponent’s grasp. Celevon’s looser grip in the wrong position on the conversion-hilt led to it being knocked from his cybernetic hand, one blade cutting through the Umbaran’s own right leg whilst the other jerked the crossguard down, the vent cutting deeper into the torso of the Jedi.

As a result of his senses being overwhelmed between the loss of both of his legs at the knee, then the renewed agony of his right arm now hanging loosely from his torso, the Techweaver lost consciousness.

The Force Disciple clutched at the stump of his right leg, looking up in time to see one of the Security Forces fire a blaster directly at his center mass.

It would be hours before Celevon fully awoke, chained down within the Odanite’s prison blacksite, for the attempted murder of the Rollmaster of Odan-Urr, as well as the suspicion of being a part of the conspiracy to assassinate Empress Katani Anasaye of the Vatali Empire.