My vision is hazy, the edges of the world around me shifting, like I'm looking through a fogged window. Colors blend together—browns, whites—swirling in a disorienting sea that makes my heart race. I blink, squinting hard, trying to make sense of what's happening. Nothing is clear. My mind feels like it's swimming through thick, murky water.

"Llamiryl, what's going on?" My voice comes out shaky, betraying the unease building inside me.

"Ryu is coming to," Llamiryl replies, her voice steady, though there's a note of concern she doesn't bother hiding.

Before I can respond, the blurred world around me snaps into sharp focus, and I find myself standing inside a small, secluded cabin. The warmth hits me first—stifling, almost suffocating, like the air is too thick. The heavy scent of wood smoke clings to everything, filling my lungs. My eyes dart around the room, trying to take in the details all at once.

There's a bed in the corner, roughly made, with a worn blanket thrown over it. It looks like it's seen better days. Shelves line the walls, cluttered with jars filled with dried herbs, strange powders, and ancient books, their covers worn and cracked. In the center of the room, a dying fire crackles beneath a blackened cooking pit, the flames weak and low. A cauldron hangs from chains, swaying ever so slightly as if it's been recently disturbed.

I swallow hard, my eyes catching on something near the doorway. Bird-like creatures, strung up by their necks, hang against the wall. It makes my skin crawl, adding a dark layer to the already unsettling atmosphere. A wooden table stands in the middle of the room, scattered with tools, a half-carved piece of wood, and a single oil lamp flickering weakly, casting long, distorted shadows across the space.

Everything feels... wrong. It's too quiet. Too still. My pulse quickens, my unease growing with every breath.

Then I sense movement out of the corner of my eye. Slowly, cautiously, I turn my head, and there he is—Ryu. But not the Ryu I know. The armor, the mask, the cold, untouchable presence—gone. Instead, he's lying in the bed, half-covered by the worn blanket. His face, uncovered for the first time since I've known him, is exposed.

I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. He's younger—eighteen, maybe—but that hard edge, the weight of everything he's been through, it's still there, even if softened by his youth. His dark hair is a mess, tousled and falling over his forehead. His jaw is sharp, his features defined, but there are faint scars—scars that speak of battles already fought, pain already endured. His skin is pale, almost sickly, under the dim light.

Something tugs at my chest, a sharp ache. This is Ryu after the weight of everything crushed him, after his master's chains bound him so tightly. Yet, there's an innocence here, in his face—an innocence I didn't expect, and it hurts to see it.

I stand there, my heart heavy, watching him. He looks so fragile. So human.

I wasn't prepared for this.

My gaze shifts from Ryu's face down to his chest, the bandages wrapping tightly over where he had been slashed. The memory flashes vividly in my mind—his master's blade cutting deep across his chest, the way he had collapsed, how powerless I had felt watching him fall. I bite my lip, trying to push the image away, but I feel the sting of worry gnawing at me. Nikko must sense it too. She's quiet beside me, her little face scrunched up in concern, though I see a glimmer of relief in her eyes. He's still breathing, he's still here.

My eyes are fixed on Ryu's bandaged chest, the wound from his master's blade still fresh in my mind. The gash runs deep, and I can still hear the awful sound of the strike—still feel the helplessness I felt watching him fall. Nikko notices too; I can sense her tension beside me, a mix of worry and relief on her face. He's alive, but... broken.

I glance at the chair by the bed, where his armor lies neatly folded. His lightsaber—its hilt dark and worn—is resting next to the familiar mask. The blade that hums with a brilliant yellow glow, the weapon of the man I know. Yet, looking at him now, I wonder who he is without it.

Ryu stirs, a low groan escaping him as he tries to rise. His movements are slow, strained, every motion a battle against the pain in his chest. His hand moves to the bandages, pressing lightly, as if testing the wound. His eyes, dark and sharp, dart around the room, trying to orient himself in the unfamiliar surroundings.

The door creaks open, and I instinctively look toward it. The fresh scent of mountain air rushes in, cool and crisp. Beyond the door, snow-capped mountains rise in the distance, surrounding a green field that stretches out, bordered by dense forests. The sight is beautiful, untouched by the chaos we've been through. But my gaze snaps back to the figure entering the room—the old man.

It's him. The same old man Ryu encountered on Dagobah.

Ryu's reaction is immediate. Despite the agony he's clearly in, he throws his legs off the bed and stands, unsteady but determined. His torso is bare, bandaged, and scarred, but his hand reaches out, summoning his lightsaber with a flick of his fingers. The hilt flies into his grasp, and with a snap-hiss, the yellow blade ignites, casting a golden light that dances across the walls.

But I can see how much he's struggling. His breathing is shallow, his movements sluggish. He clutches his chest with one hand, the other holding the lightsaber in a shaky grip, its brilliant glow betraying the fragility of the man wielding it.

The old man, however, remains unfazed. He chuckles softly, closing the door behind him as if nothing were amiss. His calm demeanor contrasts sharply with the tension in the room. "You're finally awake," he says, his voice rich with quiet authority, the kind that makes you listen.

Ryu's breath hitches, but he keeps the lightsaber raised, though his grip wavers. I can feel the weight of his exhaustion, how his body is begging him to stop, to rest. But he won't. He can't.

The old man steps forward, carrying a small sack over his shoulder. He moves to the table, placing the sack down, and it slumps to the side, spilling out strange vegetables I've never seen before. They roll across the wooden surface, their alien colors and shapes only adding to the oddity of the scene.

"You're in no danger," the old man says calmly, turning to face Ryu. His staff rests easily in his hand, a simple, unassuming object, yet something about the way he holds it commands respect. "If I wanted you dead, I would have left you in that ravine."

Ryu hesitates. His eyes narrow, but the strain is clear. Slowly, with visible reluctance, the yellow blade retracts, and the room falls into a tense silence. He collapses back onto the bed, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. The fight has drained him.

"Who are you?" Ryu gasps, barely able to force the words out. "Why did you save me?"

The old man shakes his head, as if the question itself is unnecessary. "Because you were dying," he says simply. "And I wasn't going to just leave you there."

"But how?" Ryu presses, his voice strained with effort. "How did you find me?"

"The Force guided me," the old man replies, his tone almost casual. "It brought me to you, and I brought you here."

Ryu winces, his body shifting uncomfortably. "Where's here?" he asks, his voice hoarse.

"Alderaan," the old man answers, watching Ryu carefully.

"Alderaan?" Ryu repeats, disbelief creeping into his voice. "Why... why here?"

The old man moves to the fire, kneeling before the dying embers. He blows gently, coaxing the flames back to life, the fire crackling softly. "Because it's far from the reach of the Sith Empire," he says quietly, his voice steady and full of certainty. He grabs a water pouch, pouring its contents into the cauldron hanging over the flames. Then, he begins to pull jars from the shelf, selecting various herbs, and tossing them into the simmering water.

Ryu watches, silent now, but his eyes never leave the old man's movements. I can see the wheels turning in his mind, the tension still simmering beneath the surface.

Without warning, Ryu forces himself to stand. His movements are slow, labored, but the determination on his face is unmistakable. "Thank you," he says, though the gratitude sounds hollow. "But I have to go."

The old man doesn't react immediately. He continues stirring the contents of the cauldron, his posture calm and unbothered. "You seriously want to leave?" he asks, his voice now stern, like a father scolding a wayward child. He turns to face Ryu fully, his gaze sharp and unyielding. "Why?"

Ryu's eyes flash with anger. "You wouldn't understand, old man," he snaps, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "I have to."

"Oh, I understand far better than you think," the old man replies, his tone unyielding, but not unkind. "You've finally realized that your entire life... you were nothing more than an accessory."

Ryu's expression hardens. His hand tightens around the hilt of his lightsaber, though he doesn't ignite it. "The hell do you know?" he snarls, his voice rising with every word. "You don't know me! You don't know what I had to do for him!"

The old man's eyes soften, but his posture remains steady. "I know more than you realize," he says quietly. His gaze shifts to Ryu's bandaged chest, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he gestures toward it. "Look at what your reckless behavior has already cost you."

Ryu freezes, his eyes dropping to the bandages as if seeing them for the first time. His breath catches, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. The fire in his eyes flickers, and for a moment, I think I see something else there—guilt.

"You fight and fight," the old man continues, his voice heavy with the weight of wisdom. "But fighting is not the answer. You're not thinking rationally. You're acting on emotion, on anger. And that is a dangerous path."

Ryu's jaw tightens, but he doesn't speak. His hands tremble, the weight of his own words hanging in the air.

The old man takes a step closer, his voice low but firm. "I can see the guilt you carry. It clings to you like a shadow, pulling you down, making you believe that fighting your master will break the chains that bind you."

Ryu's eyes snap back to the old man, but he doesn't interrupt. There's something in the old man's tone that demands attention, something ancient and knowing.

"But confronting him will not truly set you free," the old man says, his gaze piercing. "You may defeat him, but the chains are not his. They are yours. They are forged from your fear, your anger, your regret. You carry them with you, wherever you go. Until you confront that, no victory against him will ever bring you peace."

Ryu's shoulders slump, the tension draining from his body. His grip on his lightsaber loosens, and for the first time, I see the weight of it all—the pain, the anger, the guilt—truly bear down on him.

The old man's voice softens, but it remains steady. "You must find the strength to let go. Not of the fight, but of the need to fight. Only then will you be free."

Ryu's eyes fall to the ground, his breath shaky, as if the truth of those words is sinking in, cutting deeper than any blade ever could.

Ryu's arms fall to his sides, his shoulders slumping. His gaze drifts between contemplation and something more—something lost. He turns to the old man, searching for answers he's not sure he'll find.

"Then what am I supposed to do?" His voice is low, filled with a mix of frustration and defeat. "Run?"

The old man shrugs casually. "You could."

"Become stronger, confront him again?"

"You could do that too," the old man replies, his tone unchanged.

"Go to the Jedi?" Ryu asks, a flicker of desperation creeping into his words.

"That too," the old man says, shrugging once more, as if the possibilities were endless.

Each answer seems to frustrate Ryu further, his jaw tightening. He clenches his fists, trying to make sense of the old man's casual responses. "You seem wise, old man... What the hell am I supposed to do, then?"

The old man remains calm, his voice steady and unshaken. "That is not up to me," he says, meeting Ryu's eyes with quiet certainty. "That is up to you."

Ryu stares at him, his resolve wavering. "I... I don't know what to do," he admits, the words coming out heavier than before, his voice tinged with defeat. The weight of everything seems to press down on him in that moment, threatening to crush him.

The old man's face softens, and with a faint smile, he gestures toward the cauldron. "How about some tea?"

Ryu looks at him, confused by the sudden change in topic, but the old man moves with purpose. He approaches the cauldron, lifting the lid, the steam rising as the liquid inside boils. "Always helps me when I'm lost and can't decide," he says, his voice carrying a hint of warmth, like the crackling fire.

I watch as he moves to a shelf, retrieving a ladle and two simple clay cups. His movements are deliberate, unhurried, like there's all the time in the world. He ladles the boiling liquid into the cups, offering one to Ryu with an outstretched hand.

Ryu hesitates, his eyes lingering on the steaming cup, but with a long, weary sigh, he accepts it.

"Let's go outside," the old man suggests, already making his way to the door. He opens it with a gentle push, stepping outside with his cup in one hand and his staff in the other.

⚔⚔⚔⚔⚔

Ryu follows, though his steps are slow, each one a visible effort. His pain is clear in the way he moves, his body still bearing the weight of his injuries. I can't help but feel the tight knot of worry in my chest as I watch him.

I follow them out, stepping into the light—and my breath catches.

Alderaan is... breathtaking.

The air is fresh, crisp, and filled with the scent of pine and wildflowers. The land stretches out in front of me, endless and untouched, like something from a dream. Snow-capped mountains rise majestically in the distance, their peaks glowing in the soft light of the afternoon sun. The green fields below roll out like waves of velvet, dotted with patches of wildflowers that sway gently in the breeze. A thick forest lines the horizon, its trees tall and ancient, casting long shadows across the valley.

But it's the city that captures my attention—a gleaming marvel that seems to defy everything I've ever known.

In the distance, nestled against the mountainside, is a city unlike anything I've ever seen. Its towers rise high, their surfaces gleaming in the sunlight, made of metals and materials that look foreign to me, their sleek, smooth designs utterly unlike the stone buildings and wooden structures of my home. Massive bridges arch between the towers, connecting them like veins in some great living organism. The buildings are layered, rising higher and higher, their bases surrounded by flowing rivers and greenery that blend seamlessly with the architecture.

A starship glides silently overhead, its metallic hull reflecting the sun as it passes by. Its massive form dwarfs anything I've ever seen, moving gracefully through the sky like a bird of prey. The hum of its engines vibrates through the air, and I find myself staring, entranced by its smooth flight.

I've never seen anything like this. The city, the ship, the vastness of the world around me—it's all so alien, so beyond anything I could have imagined. My heart races as I take it all in, a strange mix of awe and disbelief washing over me.

The old man takes a few steps forward, his movements slow and deliberate. He lowers himself onto the ground with practiced ease, setting his staff gently beside him. Ryu, still moving gingerly, follows suit, though every motion seems to bring him pain. He sits beside the old man, his gaze lingering on the scenery before him, his yellow eyes clouded with thoughts I can't quite grasp.

The old man takes a sip from his cup, his eyes fixed on the mountains, as though the vastness of the world is something he's come to understand.

Ryu lifts the cup to his lips, and for the first time since he woke, there's a flicker of calm in his eyes as he takes a sip. His shoulders relax, if only slightly, and he seems to appreciate the taste. I can't help but feel a twinge of surprise. The tea... it seems to taste actually good. I didn't expect a blind man to be able to brew something so... well, decent. Maybe it's the warmth, the simplicity of the moment, but I see Ryu's tension ease, if only for a breath.

The old man, meanwhile, remains silent. He sits with his legs crossed, his staff laid carefully beside him. His movements are deliberate, measured. Every so often, he brings the clay cup to his lips, taking slow, deliberate sips, his blind eyes gazing out toward the mountains and the city in the distance. There's something peaceful in his silence, like the world could fall apart around him and he wouldn't be disturbed.

Ryu, though, is different. The stillness seems to grate on him. He shifts restlessly, his fingers tapping lightly against the side of his cup. I know that look—he's searching for something, some direction, some answer. But the old man doesn't offer any, and that seems to frustrate Ryu even more.

⚔⚔⚔⚔⚔

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of silence, the old man speaks, his voice cutting through the quiet like a soft breeze. "Tell me," he says, his tone gentle but probing. "What is it you actually want to do?"

Ryu hesitates, his brow furrowing as he stares down into the tea, swirling it slowly in the cup. "I... I don't know," he admits, his voice quieter than usual, carrying a strange vulnerability I'm not used to hearing from him. "I never really had the luxury to make my own decisions before."

The old man nods slowly, as if he expected that answer. "What do you do normally?" Ryu asks, his gaze flicking up to meet the old man's.

"Me?" The old man chuckles softly, his voice carrying a faint, nostalgic warmth. "I go wherever the Force takes me. I seek no riches, no fancy titles. I just... travel across the galaxy."

Ryu's lips curl into a slight, humorless smile. "Sounds boring."

The old man doesn't seem offended. He merely shrugs, taking another sip from his cup. "To some, yes. But to me, it's a peaceful life. I have no master, no one to tell me what to do. I make my own choices."

"Must be nice," Ryu mutters, his voice thick with a mix of bitterness and envy. His eyes drift from the old man to the vast, open world beyond. I can feel the weight of those words—what they mean to him. After everything he's been through, after everything he's lost, the idea of freedom must seem... impossible.

"It really is," the old man replies, his voice steady, sincere. He turns his head slightly, though his gaze is still distant, lost in whatever he's sensing. "I used to be like you, you know."

Ryu glances over at him, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "Like me?"

The old man nods slowly, his expression shifting, taking on a gravity that I can feel settling over all of us. "I was lost," he says, his voice soft, but there's an edge to it—something deep, something old. "Entangled in my own chains."

I glance over at Nikko, her wide eyes fixed on the old man. She's silent, but I can see the curiosity there, the way she clings to every word. Llamiryl, too, is watching closely, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly, as if she's trying to read between the lines of what the old man is saying.

"What happened?" Ryu's voice is softer now, almost hesitant, as if he's asking something he doesn't really want to know the answer to.

"I was reckless," the old man says, the admission rolling off his tongue like a confession. "Like you were. And it cost me dearly. Mostly through my own arrogant actions." The old man gestures to his milky white pupils. 

Ryu's jaw tightens, his gaze dropping back to the ground. I can see the guilt settling in again, like a shadow creeping over him, the weight of his own past pressing down on his shoulders. I've seen this look before, and every time it makes my heart ache. He's always carrying so much... too much.

"But I was saved," the old man continues, his tone softer now, almost reverent. "By an Acolyte."

At the mention of the word, Ryu's head snaps up, his eyes narrowing. "An Acolyte?" He asks, suspicion creeping into his voice. "You're a Sith?"

The old man chuckles, a warm, amused sound that seems to roll off him like waves. "No," he says, shaking his head. "I was... but that was a long time ago."

The admission catches me off guard, and I feel my heart skip a beat. He was a Sith? I glance at Ryu, expecting some kind of reaction, but his face remains calm, his gaze steady, though there's a flicker of something—confusion, curiosity, maybe both.

"Acolyte had a different meaning before the Sith," the old man explains, his voice carrying the weight of knowledge that feels ancient, something far older than any of us. "An Acolyte is not just a warrior. They are seekers of knowledge, always walking the line between light and dark, between wisdom and battle. In balance with the Force."

I glance over at Nikko, her small face scrunched in concentration as she tries to absorb the meaning of the old man's words. Llamiryl, too, is listening intently, her sharp eyes focused on the old man as if she's studying him, trying to understand who he truly is.

The old man continues, his voice gentle but firm, explaining what it means to be an Acolyte—what it meant before the Sith. His words carry a wisdom that feels far beyond anything I've ever heard, and for the first time in a long while, I see Ryu... listening. Really listening.

And for a moment, in the stillness of the mountains, I feel a quiet hope stirring in the air.

Ryu tilts his head slightly, his brow furrowing in confusion. "I've never heard of an Acolyte before," he admits, his voice carrying a thread of skepticism. "To use both the light and the dark? How is that possible?"

The old man smiles softly, the kind of smile that comes from years of understanding things others haven't even begun to grasp. "I had a great mentor," he says simply, his tone humble yet filled with respect for whoever had guided him. "It is possible, but it is a path that requires balance—constant awareness. The light and the dark are not enemies, not as many would have you believe. They are two sides of the same Force. What matters is how you use them."

Ryu's eyes narrow slightly, doubt flickering in his gaze. "But isn't that dangerous? Everyone I've ever met who used the dark side... it consumed them. Made them something... else." His voice is quieter now, filled with the weight of personal experience.

The old man nods, acknowledging the truth in Ryu's words. "That's because most who walk that path either fear the dark or crave its power. Fear leads to reckless decisions, and craving power blinds you to its cost. The key is balance. You must channel both the light and the dark without succumbing to either. You let the Force flow through you, not bend it to your will."

Ryu stares at him, absorbing the words but still visibly doubtful. "So... how do you not lose yourself?" He asks, his tone more curious now, though still laced with hesitation. "How do you keep from falling to one side or the other?"

The old man takes a long breath, as though he's drawing wisdom from deep within. "You walk the middle path with intention. Always aware, always grounded in the knowledge that both light and dark exist within you. You must accept them both but be ruled by neither. The light brings peace and clarity, the dark brings strength and resolve. Together, they allow you to see the truth without being blinded by either."

Ryu's gaze softens as he considers the words. He takes another sip of his tea, his eyes lost in thought. "I don't know," he murmurs. "I've spent my whole life running from the dark or fighting against it. To embrace it..." He trails off, unsure.

The old man's smile remains, patient and calm. "It's not about embracing it, Ryu. It's about understanding it. Only then can you truly let go of its hold on you. Once you do, it no longer has power over you."

Ryu remains silent for a long moment, staring into his now-empty cup as if the answers he seeks might be hidden at the bottom. He finishes the last sip, the warmth of the tea dissipating, and slowly rises to his feet. His movements are still stiff, still pained, but with purpose.

He turns toward the cabin, but before he takes more than a step, the old man's voice stops him in his tracks.

"You know," the old man says, his voice soft but filled with the weight of truth, "if you go back to your master now, you will walk the same path once more. The chains that bind you will only tighten. You may think you'll break them, but they're forged from within you, not by him."

Ryu halts, his back to the old man. I can see the tension in his posture, the struggle in his mind as those words sink in. His fists clench, his gaze fixed on the doorway of the cabin.

The old man continues, his tone wise, deliberate. "There's still time, Ryu. Stay with me, for a little while. At least until you heal. Consider your next steps without rushing back into a fight that might leave you broken... or worse. The galaxy is vast, and sometimes the path we think we must walk is not the one that leads to freedom."

Ryu remains still, as if frozen between decisions, torn by the weight of the old man's words and the impulse to act. His jaw tightens, his breath coming shallow, but then, after what feels like an eternity, he speaks.

"You never told me your name," Ryu says, his voice low but clear.

The old man raises a brow, tilting his head slightly as though he's pondering this realization. "I didn't?" He pauses, then chuckles softly. "I suppose I didn't."

There's a brief silence before the old man finally offers a name. "I'm August. August Sinclair."

Ryu nods slightly, as if testing the name in his mind. "I'm Ryu... Ryu Chikara."

August smiles warmly, lifting his cup slightly in a gesture of understanding. "Well, Ryu, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Ryu gives a faint nod in return, but there's a heaviness still lingering in his expression. He turns back toward the cabin, stepping slowly, each motion weighed down by more than just his injuries.

Nikko stirs beside me, her small hand gripping my sleeve tightly as she watches Ryu's retreating figure. "Is he leaving?" she whispers, her voice trembling slightly with worry.

"I don't know," I murmur, watching him as he reaches for the door. My heart pounds, uncertain of what he's going to do next. I glance at Llamiryl, who is just as silent, her sharp eyes narrowed in contemplation.

As Ryu reaches for the cabin door and pushes it open, something feels... unsettled. The air seems to shift, as though the world itself is holding its breath.

⚔⚔⚔⚔⚔

Then, without warning, the memory shifts, like the flicker of a candle being blown out.

The memory shifts abruptly, and I find myself back inside the cabin. The warmth of the fire crackles faintly in the center of the room, casting flickering shadows across the walls. Ryu stands there, his armor now back in place, the tattered cloak draped over his shoulders once again. My heart sinks. I glance at Nikko beside me, and her small face mirrors my own unease. We both silently hoped he wouldn't return to this... to who he was.

But then I notice something different. Ryu is holding his mask in his hand, the one that has hidden him from the world for so long. The mask that has always felt like a barrier between him and us—between him and himself.

He stands there, silent, his eyes fixed on the mask, his expression unreadable. Time seems to stretch, the air heavy with uncertainty. Has he truly changed? Has he accepted this new path?

I hold my breath, unsure of what's about to happen. My mind races, and I feel a knot of worry tightening in my chest. Nikko grips my arm, her ears twitching nervously. I know she's scared—scared that this might mean he's returning to who he used to be, that everything August has taught him will be forgotten.

But then, something shifts. Ryu closes his eyes, and for a moment, the room feels impossibly still, as though the entire world is holding its breath alongside him. He inhales deeply, his chest rising with the slow, steady breath, and then—he exhales. A long, drawn-out release, as if he's letting go of something deep inside him.

When he opens his eyes, there's a new light in them. A calmness I haven't seen before. Without hesitation, he lifts his arm and hurls the mask into the fire.

I blink, my breath catching in my throat as I watch it tumble into the flames, the edges of the mask catching fire and curling, the heat distorting the once familiar shape. The mask—his mask—melts and blackens, its once cold and unforgiving visage consumed by the fire's warmth.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, my heart finally easing. Relief washes over me, as strong and pure as the flames devouring that cursed mask. Ryu... he's finally letting go. He's not the man he was. He's made his choice. He's chosen a new path.

Beside me, I hear Nikko whisper softly, "He's not going back..." Her voice trembles, but there's so much hope in it. I glance down and see her small face filled with a mixture of wonder and relief. Her tail sways gently behind her, no longer stiff with worry.

"I think he's really changed," I whisper back, my own heart swelling with gratitude.

Ryu steps toward the door, his movements deliberate and free of the weight he seemed to carry before. His armor glints faintly in the firelight, but it no longer feels like a prison. It feels like a choice. He pushes the door open, and I see the golden light of the sun spill into the cabin. It's warm—inviting.

Outside, August waits, his eyes seemingly fixed on the horizon, though I know he can't see. He has a pack strapped to his back, the straps tight across his shoulders, as though he's ready for whatever journey lies ahead.

"Ready to start your training?" August asks, his voice calm but with a subtle warmth to it.

Ryu steps outside, standing tall, and for the first time in a long while, a faint smile touches his lips. "Ready, master," he replies, his voice steady and sure.

I feel the last of the tension in my chest unravel. He called August 'master'—but not like before. It wasn't the word of a man bound by chains. It was the word of someone free, someone who had made his choice.

As they walk off together, the memory shifts once more, the warmth of the cabin fading away.

But I'm not afraid of what comes next. I'm thankful.

The memory shifts, and I find myself back on Alderaan, where the breeze is cool, and the air smells fresh with the scent of wildflowers. The sun is soft in the early spring sky, casting a golden light over the landscape. Ryu stands in the middle of a sprawling field, his figure still but tense, as though bracing himself for something. August, with his blind yet discerning eyes, stands nearby, watching over him like a silent sentinel.

Nikko, clutching my hand, shifts nervously beside me. Her ears twitch as the soft wind stirs the grass around us. "Is this where it all begins?" she whispers, her voice small and full of apprehension.

I nod, though my heart is heavy with the same questions. "Yes," I murmur, my eyes fixed on Ryu, trying to reconcile the man I know with the one I'm watching now. He's different already, but it's clear this is only the start of a journey we can't even fully understand.

"You'll need balance," August begins, his voice calm and steady, like the rhythm of the earth itself. "The light and the dark aren't enemies. They are two sides of the same coin, two forces you must learn to wield. Together."

Ryu listens, his expression hard but uncertain. Slowly, he sits, folding his legs beneath him in the grass. His jaw clenches, and I can see the tension in his shoulders, the weight of the task ahead heavy on his mind. As he closes his eyes, trying to find that elusive balance within himself, his fists tighten at his sides.

Beside me, Nikko leans in. "Do you think he's scared?" she whispers.

I glance at her, her wide eyes locked on Ryu with concern. "Maybe. But Ryu doesn't show fear easily." Yet, I feel it too. I can see the struggle in his body language, a silent war raging within him.

"Don't let the dark side consume you," August says, watching Ryu's struggle. "It will pull at you, whisper to you. But its power is no stronger than the light, only more aggressive. Learn to let it be without letting it take control."

Ryu's face tightens further, his breathing shallow, and I can feel the frustration building in him. The meditation isn't coming easily, and the fight for balance is anything but simple. Llamiryl, standing silently a few steps behind us, watches with an expression I can't quite read. Perhaps it's curiosity, or perhaps she's wary of what might come next.

Time shifts, and now it's summer. The warm sun filters through the trees, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow across the forest floor where Ryu sits once more in meditation. His posture is more relaxed, but there's still tension in his brow. His face, though calm, betrays the struggle within.

Nikko's tail flicks nervously beside me, her eyes darting between Ryu and August. "Why is it still so hard for him?" she whispers, her voice trembling. "He's been at this for so long."

I squeeze her hand gently. "It's not something that happens overnight. This path he's walking... it's harder than most of us can understand."

A rock by the riverbank suddenly lifts into the air, spinning wildly for a moment before slamming back down with a heavy thud. Ryu's brow furrows deeper, his frustration evident.

"Control it," August says, his voice firm but gentle. "Don't suppress the dark side. Feel it, but don't let it dictate your actions."

Ryu opens his eyes, glaring at the rock, his fists clenching at his sides. "It's not that simple," he mutters through gritted teeth.

"No," August agrees, stepping closer. "It isn't. But nothing worth doing ever is."

Ryu exhales sharply, the tension in him mounting. He's struggling, and it's hard to watch him fight a battle that no one else can help with. Nikko presses closer to me, her worry palpable. "He'll get there," I whisper, though I'm not entirely sure who I'm trying to convince—her or myself.

⚔⚔⚔⚔⚔

The memory shifts once again, and now the trees have begun to change. Autumn has settled over the landscape, the air cooler, the leaves a riot of oranges, yellows, and reds. Inside a small stone chamber, the light of a fire flickers warmly against the walls, casting shadows over the space. Ryu sits at a table before a collection of glowing cubes like the one from that temple, his expression one of intense concentration.

Nikko tugs at my sleeve. "What are those?" she asks, her voice hushed, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"Holocrons," Llamiryl whispers back, though the word sounds strange to me. "They hold knowledge from the past—some from the Jedi, some from the Sith."

Ryu reaches out, his fingers brushing the blue holocron first. It hums softly as it activates, casting a soft light across his face. I can't hear what it's showing him, but I see how his face softens, his breathing steadies. There's a peace that seems to wash over him, a calmness that comes from the light side's teachings.

But then, his hand shifts, and he touches the red holocron. The air in the room changes. It feels heavier, denser, and I can see the effect it has on Ryu. His jaw tightens, his eyes darken, and whatever this holocron is teaching him... it's unsettling.

August watches carefully from the side. "Understanding the dark side doesn't mean surrendering to it," he says, his voice steady and patient. "There is power there, but it always comes at a cost. You must learn to use it without letting it corrupt you."

Ryu doesn't respond, but I see the doubt flicker in his eyes. He's not sure. Not yet.

Llamiryl steps closer, her eyes gleaming with interest. She's intrigued, I can tell, but there's something else there—caution. She understands how dangerous this knowledge can be. She knows how easily it could consume him.

The memory shifts, and we're plunged into darkness. The cave surrounds us, its oppressive atmosphere pressing down on me like a weight I can't shake. It's not evil, not like the cave on Dagobah, but it's still... wrong. The dark side lingers here, thick and suffocating.

Ryu steps forward, his jaw clenched, and I feel Nikko clutch at my arm, her small body trembling. "I don't like this place," she whispers, her voice shaking with fear.

"Neither do I," I admit, glancing at the cave's entrance where August stands, his silhouette bathed in faint light. He doesn't move. He's waiting, watching.

"This place holds the dark side," August says, his voice echoing off the walls. "Here, you will confront your greatest fears, your deepest regrets. But remember, Ryu—these are only illusions. They are only as powerful as you allow them to be."

Ryu swallows hard, nodding once before stepping further into the cave. I watch him, my heart pounding in my chest. I can't help him, I know that, but watching him face something so... heavy, something invisible, feels unbearable.

His expression shifts suddenly—confusion first, then pain. His hand twitches at his side, as though he's ready to summon his lightsaber, but he doesn't. He just stands there, his face twisted in anguish. He's seeing something I can't—facing something that must be terrible.

Nikko presses closer to me, her wide eyes fixed on him, terrified for him. I'm terrified too.

But then, just as I think the darkness will overtake him, Ryu breathes deeply. His hands unclench, his body relaxes. The tension eases out of him, and the pain in his expression fades. Slowly, his breathing steadies.

August smiles softly from the entrance of the cave. "You did well," he says, his voice filled with approval.

Another memory, another shift, and we're still in the cave. But this time, it feels darker, colder. The weight of the dark side is heavier here, and I can feel it pressing down on us, making it harder to breathe. Ryu stands in the center of the cave, his hand outstretched, his face twisted in concentration.

"Again," August's voice echoes through the chamber. "Face it. Confront it. Do not run."

Ryu's jaw tightens, his hand trembling as if he's fighting something invisible. His whole body is tense, as though he's wrestling with a monster I can't see. I can feel the strain in him, the battle raging within. He's confronting something—something from his past, perhaps, something that still holds power over him.

He's shaking now, his breathing shallow and ragged. For a moment, I fear he'll break. But then, just as before, he breathes. His hand unclenches, the tension drains from his body, and his face softens. He's letting go.

"I see it now," Ryu murmurs, his voice quiet but resolute. "It doesn't control me."

August nods, his expression calm and full of understanding. "The past shapes us, but it does not define us. You are more than your pain, Ryu."

Beside me, Nikko lets out a soft breath, her grip on my arm loosening. "He's okay," she whispers, relief washing over her small face. "He's going to be okay."

I nod, my own chest feeling lighter. "He is."

The scene shifts, and now it's late summer. The air is warmer, and the cave feels different—less oppressive. Ryu stands before August, his yellow lightsaber ignited in his hand. His stance is strong, his movements fluid, but there's still tension in his strikes.

"You're relying too much on aggression," August says, stepping forward. "Balance, Ryu. Always balance."

Ryu adjusts his stance, his breathing steadying as he refocuses. He moves again, and this time his strikes are different—more measured, more controlled. I can see it in the way he moves. He's learning. Each motion speaks of growth, of a man who's found something deeper within himself.

I watch, mesmerized by the way he's changed. This is the Ryu I know—the man who fights with purpose, not anger. I feel a swell of pride, watching him grow into the person he's meant to be.

Another shift and now fall has settled over the landscape. The cave is colder now, and Ryu stands before August once again, his hand outstretched. Blue sparks begin to flicker between his fingers, the air around him crackling with energy.

"You want me to use the dark side?" Ryu asks, his voice uncertain, as though he's afraid of what might happen if he lets go.

"I want you to understand it," August replies calmly. "Summon the lightning, but don't let it come from a place of rage. Focus."

Ryu hesitates, his eyes flicking to his hand as the lightning begins to take shape. At first, nothing happens, but then the sparks grow stronger, dancing between his fingers like electric currents. His brow furrows in concentration, every muscle in his body straining to keep the power under control.

"Good," August murmurs, watching closely. "Control it. Don't let it control you."

I hold my breath, my heart pounding as I watch Ryu harness the raw power of the dark side without letting it consume him. He's growing stronger, but not in the way I feared. He's learning to control the darkness without letting it define him.

The next memory is quieter. Winter has come, and snow blankets the ground outside. Ryu stands before August, his breath visible in the frigid air, his expression more weathered, more... complete. He's no longer the same dark person anymore. He's become something else. Stronger, yes, but also wiser.

"This is about choices," August says softly. "Sometimes, there is no right answer—only consequences."

Ryu nods, his face calm but serious. The weight of his training is visible in the way he holds himself now. He understands, more than ever, that his path isn't simple, that the balance he seeks is delicate, constantly shifting.

Finally, the memory shifts one last time, and spring has returned. The air is fresh again, and the sun is bright on the horizon. Two years have passed, and I can see the change in Ryu. He stands at the edge of a cliff, overlooking the vast, beautiful landscape of Alderaan. His face is serene, peaceful in a way I never thought possible.

August stands beside him, his staff resting lightly in his hands. "You've come far, Ryu," he says, his voice filled with quiet pride. "You understand balance now, more than most ever will."

Ryu smiles—a soft, knowing smile that speaks of all he's learned. "Thank you, master," he replies, his voice steady and sure.

Nikko leans into me, her eyes filled with awe as she watches him. "He's different now," she whispers, her voice filled with wonder. "He's really different."

I nod, my heart swelling with pride and relief. "He is," I agree, watching him, knowing that he's finally becoming the man he was always meant to be.

The memory fades, but the image of Ryu standing tall, bathed in the golden light of Alderaan, lingers in my mind.

⚔⚔⚔⚔⚔

We're back in the endless hallway. The air is thick, still as it stretches infinitely in either direction, illuminated by that eerie, soft glow. For a moment, I just stand there, letting out a long breath I hadn't realized I was holding. Relief washes over me, a deep and profound sense of peace that I didn't expect. My chest feels lighter, and a faint smile tugs at my lips.

Ryu had made it. Sure, it was just a memory—a part of his past—but seeing him cast aside the person he once was, seeing him start down a different path, it gave me hope. Hope that he was stronger than I had feared. He'd been through so much darkness, but he wasn't lost to it.

Beside me, Nikko's ears twitch, and she lets out a small sigh, her hand still gripping my sleeve. "I'm glad, Talia," she whispers, her voice soft but full of relief. "Ryu... he really changed. He didn't go back."

I nod, feeling the same sense of gratitude that Nikko does. "He didn't," I murmur, my gaze still lingering in the space where the memory had played out moments ago. "He chose to become someone better."

But then, just as quickly as that sense of relief settles over me, something sharp and cold pierces through it.

The Shadowfell.

My heart leaps into my throat, and I feel a sudden wave of panic. The Shadowfell—how could I have forgotten? It's the whole reason we're here, inside Ryu's mind. We were sent to track it down, to stop it from corrupting him any further, but I'd been so engrossed in Ryu's memories, in watching his training, that I lost sight of everything else.

I whirl around, turning to Llamiryl. "Llamiryl, we need to hurry!" I blurt out, my voice tinged with panic. The calm that had just settled over me vanishes in an instant, replaced by a creeping sense of urgency. "The Shadowfell—I've completely forgotten! We've spent so much time watching Ryu's past, but the Shadowfell is still ahead of us!"

Llamiryl, ever calm and composed, raises a hand gently, her expression soft and patient. "Talia, don't worry," she says, her voice soothing, as if she can sense my panic. "The Shadowfell has been moving ahead of us this entire time."

"But—" I start, my heart still pounding, but Llamiryl cuts me off.

"I haven't forgotten our purpose," she says firmly, though there's no harshness in her tone. She steps closer, her sharp eyes scanning the hallway as though searching for something only she can see. "It's ahead of us, Talia. I've kept track of its movements. It hasn't stopped, but it hasn't gotten to where it wants to be yet."

I exhale, though the tension doesn't fully leave me. "Can't we just... find the source of Ryu's guilt before the Shadowfell does?" I ask, desperate now. "We know that's what it's after. If we can just—"

Llamiryl shakes her head before I even finish. "I've tried," she says, her voice quieter, but there's a note of frustration beneath it. "But I can't. The Shadowfell... it's pushing me back. Every time I try to track Ryu's memories of guilt directly, it resists me. All I can do is summon memories where the Shadowfell has already been."

I clench my fists in frustration. It feels like we're running in circles, and no matter how much progress we make, the Shadowfell is always one step ahead. But that's not the worst of it. The worst part is knowing that Ryu's guilt—the very thing the Shadowfell is feeding off of—is still lurking somewhere in his mind, waiting to consume him.

I sigh heavily, running a hand through my hair. "Then let's not waste any more time," I say, my voice firmer now, trying to push away the lingering sense of dread. "We need to catch up."

Nikko, still gripping my arm, nods vigorously in agreement. Her wide eyes are filled with determination, though I can see the worry still lingering there. "Let's go," she whispers, her voice filled with the same urgency I feel.

Llamiryl glances at me, her lips curling into a soft, knowing smile. She doesn't speak for a moment, simply watching me with that patient, almost serene expression that sometimes frustrates me, but also reassures me. Then, she raises her hand again, her fingers moving in slow, deliberate motions as she summons another door.

The air hums faintly with the flicker of power, and suddenly, before us, a door appears, glowing with that same strange, ethereal light. It feels heavy, as though whatever lies beyond it carries more weight than any memory we've seen so far.

Llamiryl lowers her hand, her sharp eyes meeting mine. "We won't lose it," she says with quiet confidence. "But we must be ready. The closer we get, the stronger its presence will be."

I nod, my heart hammering in my chest. I step forward, my hand reaching for the door. Behind me, Nikko clutches my sleeve, her small form pressed close, and Llamiryl stands tall beside us, always calm, always composed.

The door slides open, and together, we step through. The air shifts as we step through the glowing door, and when the blinding light fades, my breath catches in my throat. Before us stretches a city unlike anything I've ever seen, larger and more wondrous than even the stories of great elven capitals my father once told me.

Towering structures of shimmering white and silver rise toward the heavens, their surfaces smooth and gleaming as if polished by the sun itself. Some have graceful curves, like the sweep of a bowstring, while others are bold and angular, each one unique yet harmonious, forming a skyline that sings of art and precision. Starships hum overhead, their sleek forms casting fleeting shadows on the bustling streets below. The noise of their engines vibrates faintly in my chest, mingling with the sound of thousands of voices and the rhythmic pulse of the city itself.

The streets are alive, teeming with people. They flow past us like a river, dressed in garments that shimmer with colors I can barely name. Some wear long, flowing robes with intricate patterns that catch the light, while others are clad in tighter, more practical clothing that gleams like metal. And the species! My mind struggles to comprehend the sheer variety of beings around me. There are tall, willowy figures with smooth, silvery skin and glowing blue eyes. Short, round creatures scuttle by, their skin textured like bark and their faces lined with deep grooves that shift as they chatter. A being with a wide, domed head and a trio of eyes—each blinking independently—nods to a companion who floats gracefully on a translucent, jellyfish-like form.

Nikko, at my side, lets out a gasp so sharp it startles me. Her wide eyes reflect the city's brilliance as she stares upward, her ears twitching wildly. "Wow..." she breathes, the word barely a whisper, but it carries all her wonder and disbelief. Her tail swishes behind her, nearly smacking my leg in her excitement.

I can't blame her. My own chest feels tight, as if the air has been knocked out of me. "It's... incredible," I manage, my voice faint. I'm no stranger to beauty—the elven cities back home are breathtaking in their own right—but this? This is something else entirely. It feels alive, like the city itself is aware of its magnificence and proud of it.

Even Llamiryl, ever composed and unimpressed, seems stunned. Her eyes widen ever so slightly, her lips parted as she takes in the view. For a moment, she says nothing, her sharp features softened by awe. Finally, she murmurs, "Aldera... the heart of Alderaan. Incredible."

We're surrounded by motion, but no one pays us any mind. The people move with purpose, weaving through the streets, their faces focused or cheerful, their voices blending into a low hum of life. I feel like a ghost among them, unnoticed and unremarkable, yet completely overwhelmed by their sheer presence. My fingers itch to grab Nikko and keep her close, fearing she might be swept away by the current of bodies.

And then I see them.

At first, they're just figures in the crowd, two men walking side by side. But something about the way one of them moves catches my attention, a grace and deliberation that is all too familiar. My heart lurches, and my eyes lock onto him: Ryu.

He's wearing robes now, soft gray fabric that flows around him like mist. A matching hood is drawn over his head, shadowing his face, but I know it's him. There's a calmness to his stride, a stillness in the way he carries himself, as though a great weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

Beside him walks August, his posture relaxed but firm, his blind eyes fixed ahead. They seem at ease with one another, moving in quiet synchronization. Ryu's hand rests lightly on the hilt of his lightsaber, not as if ready to draw it, but like it belongs there, an extension of himself.

"Ryu..." I whisper, relief flooding through me. It's him. He's here. And he seems... at peace.

We follow, weaving through the crowd as best we can without losing sight of them. Ryu and August walk with purpose, though not with urgency, their pace steady. My heart pounds as I watch him. He doesn't look lost anymore, doesn't look haunted by the shadows that seemed to consume him before.

And in that moment, I feel so stupid for ever doubting him. I glance at Llamiryl, her calm, knowing expression steadying me. She's the one who snapped me out of my panic earlier, the one who helped me remember who Ryu truly is. I owe her for that, and I let my gaze linger on her for a moment, a silent thanks in my eyes.

Ryu and August disappear around a corner, and we quicken our pace to keep up, the crowd parting briefly before swallowing us again. My breath catches in my throat as I realize that, for the first time in a long while, I feel something other than dread. I feel hope.

Ryu and August come to an abrupt halt, their calm, deliberate strides pausing mid-step. The crowd continues to move around them, oblivious, but the two stand perfectly still, heads tilted upward.

I stop too, nearly stumbling into Nikko, who presses close to me, her wide eyes darting between Ryu and August. Even Llamiryl halts, her brows knitting in a rare display of concern. The moment feels wrong—charged, like the air before a storm.

"What's going on?" Nikko whispers, her voice trembling. Her tail swishes anxiously, and her small hands clutch at my sleeve.

"I don't know," I reply, my voice low, trying to mask the unease creeping into my chest. My gaze follows theirs to the sky, searching for whatever has caught their attention.

Above us, the shimmering towers and the crisscrossing starships seem unchanged, their brilliance undimmed. But there's something... off. The light feels colder, and the faint hum of the city's energy seems to falter, like a heartbeat skipping. I shiver despite myself.

⚔⚔⚔⚔⚔

Ryu's head snaps toward August, his eyes wide, filled with a sudden intensity. "You sense it too?" he asks, his voice low but urgent.

August, still puffing on his pipe, exhales slowly, a stream of smoke trailing up into the sky. He gives a single, slow nod, his calm demeanor unshaken, but there's something in the set of his jaw—something that tells me he feels it just as strongly as Ryu does.

I glance between them, my heart pounding in my chest. "What is it?" I whisper, but even as the words leave my lips, the sky begins to darken.

It starts with a single shadow, cutting through the soft golden light of Alderaan's sun. Then another. And another. My eyes widen as I see the shapes more clearly—massive, hulking forms that seem to blot out the sun itself. Ships, larger than anything I have ever seen. They're like giants in the sky, their sleek, angular designs casting an ominous silhouette against the once peaceful horizon.

"Smaller ships are coming out of them," Llamiryl says, her voice calm but laced with a tension I haven't heard from her before. Her sharp eyes are fixed on the sky, her posture rigid. "This isn't good."

My breath catches in my throat as I follow her gaze. The smaller ships—hundreds of them—pour out from the massive dreadnoughts like a swarm of angry insects, scattering across the sky. Their black forms cut through the air with terrifying speed, and in an instant, the first blast hits the city.

A thunderous boom shakes the ground beneath our feet, and the sky erupts in flashes of red. Heavy blaster fire rains down from the ships, their beams streaking through the air, striking buildings, streets, and anything unlucky enough to be caught in their path. The beautiful stonework of the city's elegant buildings is obliterated in a heartbeat. Entire structures crumble under the force of the blasts, collapsing into clouds of dust and debris.

The memory engulfs us, pulling us into the chaos of the city. Alderaan's beauty and serenity have been replaced with terror and destruction. Everywhere I look, the world crumbles. The once peaceful streets are filled with screams, the air thick with dust and the acrid smell of burning stone. The elegant buildings that had once stretched proudly toward the sky are now reduced to rubble under the merciless assault.

I glance upward, the dread filling my chest like a weight I can't shake. Those ships—those massive, looming dreadnoughts casting dark shadows over the city—there's something familiar about them. Then, my stomach tightens, and a chill runs down my spine as realization dawns.

The Sith Empire.

Nikko, clinging tightly to my side, stares up at the sky with wide, fearful eyes. "Talia..." she whispers, her voice trembling. "Those ships... they're—"

"Sith," Llamiryl says grimly, her sharp gaze locked onto the sky. "The Sith Empire."

The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of the destruction unfolding around us. I swallow hard, my heart racing as the realization settles in. These ships, these fighters tearing through the city—they're not just an invading force. They're the Sith, the enemy that Ryu fought against for so long. And now, here they are, laying waste to one of the most peaceful places I've ever seen.

Another blast shakes the ground beneath us, sending debris flying into the air. I instinctively flinch, though I know none of this can touch us. Still, the raw force of it, the chaos... it's all too real.

My eyes snap back to Ryu and August. They're moving swiftly through the streets, their dark robes billowing as they weave through the terrified crowds. August, ever calm, puffs on his pipe as though he's merely out for a stroll. Ryu, though... I can see the tension in his every step. His hand twitches toward his lightsaber again, the same conflict I saw in him moments ago now flaring up with every explosion, every scream that fills the air.

"They don't know we're here," August says firmly, his voice cutting through the chaos.

"But Master!" Ryu's voice is tight, almost desperate, as he watches the destruction unfold. His eyes are wide, filled with anger and helplessness. "We can't just stand by and do nothing! These people—"

"I know you want to help, Ryu," August interrupts, his tone steady but carrying the weight of experience. "But if we intervene, we'll put them in greater danger."

I can feel Ryu's frustration as clearly as if it were my own. His hand clenches around the hilt of his lightsaber, and for a moment, I think he might defy August, that he'll run into the flames and fight, no matter the cost. My heart aches, watching him struggle, and I feel a knot of helplessness tighten in my chest.

Ryu glares at August for a long moment, his jaw clenched tight, but eventually, he relents. The fire in his eyes dims, replaced by a cold acceptance. He exhales sharply, his shoulders sagging as if all the weight of the world has settled on them.

"The spaceport..." he mutters, his voice low, frustration dripping from every word. "It's not far from here."

August nods. "Then let's move."

Without another word, they start moving again, their pace quickening as they race through the streets. I follow close behind, my heart pounding in my chest. The destruction is everywhere now. Blaster fire from the Sith ships rains down, turning the elegant stone buildings into piles of rubble. People scream, running blindly in every direction, their faces twisted in terror. The chaos is overwhelming.

We weave through the crowds, following Ryu and August as they lead the way toward the spaceport. Every step feels like a battle just to keep going. Explosions rock the ground beneath us, sending dust and debris flying into the air. I can hardly see through the smoke and the flames, but we keep moving.

Above us, the Sith fighters swarm like a plague, their blasters lighting up the sky with red streaks of death. I try to push the fear down, to focus on the path ahead, but it's hard to ignore the destruction, the screams of the people around me.

Nikko presses close, her small frame trembling against my side. "Talia... what are we going to do?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper, full of fear.

I glance down at her, trying to keep my voice steady. "We stay with Ryu," I say, though I don't know if it's the right answer. I don't know what else to say. "We stay together."

As we turn another corner, I catch a glimpse of the spaceport in the distance. The sleek shapes of ships sit waiting on the landing pads, half-obscured by the smoke that fills the air. But the path there is anything but clear.

We have to move faster.

The spaceport is eerily silent compared to the chaos we've just left behind. The sound of destruction still echoes in the distance, mingling with the roar of the Sith fighters that swarm the skies like birds of prey. My breath comes in ragged gasps as we stop, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. The ground is littered with debris, and the single destroyed ship sits motionless on one of the landing pads, its frame twisted and smoking.

I glance around, my heart sinking. There's nothing here—no ships, no people. Just silence and destruction. Panic begins to creep up my spine.

"What do we do now, Master?" Ryu asks, his voice tight with frustration as he scans the empty spaceport.

But before anyone can answer, a sound cuts through the stillness. A low, ominous hum. I look up just in time to see a shadow pass over us. My heart skips a beat as a massive ship descends from the sky, its dark, angular form casting a long shadow over the spaceport. The ship is unlike anything I've ever seen—menacing in every sense of the word. Its sleek lines and sharp edges make it look like a predator, a machine built for war and domination. The hull gleams in the dim light, and its wings extend like the arms of a beast preparing to strike.

I can feel my stomach knotting as it approaches. There's something about it—something wrong, something deeply unsettling. It's not just the size or the power that radiates from it. It's the darkness. I can feel it in the pit of my chest, like a cold weight pressing down on me, suffocating.

Nikko steps closer to me, her wide eyes locked on the descending ship. "Talia... I don't like this," she whispers, her voice trembling. Her small hand grips my sleeve tighter than ever, and I can feel her fear. It mirrors my own.

"I know," I whisper back, unable to tear my gaze away from the ship. "I don't like it either."

Llamiryl stands beside us, her usual calm exterior faltering ever so slightly. I can see the unease in her eyes, though she tries to hide it. "That ship..." she murmurs, her voice quiet but tense. "There's a darkness to it."

The ship touches down with a heavy thud, its landing pads grinding against the stone of the spaceport. The air hums with a low, mechanical growl as it settles, the silence almost more oppressive than the noise.

Ryu steps forward, his body tense. I can see the familiar movement of his hand, reaching instinctively for the hilt of his lightsaber. His eyes are fixed on the ship, his jaw clenched. I can feel the conflict radiating from him—anger, frustration, fear, all mixing together in a chaotic swirl.

August remains still, watching the ship with those sharp, blind eyes, his expression unreadable. He doesn't move, but there's a tension in the air now, thick and heavy.

As the ship powers down, a hiss echoes across the spaceport, and the landing ramp begins to lower slowly, the metallic sound sending a shiver down my spine.

We watch in silence, holding our breath.

⚔⚔⚔⚔⚔

As the landing ramp lowers, the air around us grows impossibly thick, the weight of what's coming pressing down on me like a vice. I can feel it—an oppressive, suffocating presence. It wraps itself around my chest, making it hard to breathe. Nikko grips my arm even tighter, her little fingers digging into my sleeve. I can't blame her. The feeling in the air, it's not just dread—it's something darker, something far more dangerous.

And then, he steps forward.

Ryu's master.

The moment I see him, a collective gasp escapes from all of us. He descends the ramp with an air of cold confidence, his dark robes billowing slightly in the wind. His face is sharp, cold, and the aura that surrounds him is darker than anything I've felt before. My heart pounds in my chest as I watch him approach, six figures following in perfect formation behind him—Sith Acolytes, their black hoods pulled low, their presence a looming shadow that feels like it's swallowing the spaceport whole.

Ryu's grip tightens on his lightsaber hilt, his eyes locked on the man who once controlled him, who molded him into the person he fought so hard to escape from. I can feel the tension rolling off him in waves, his body taut as though every muscle is ready to spring into action.

August, usually so calm, so composed, subtly shifts his stance. His fingers curl tighter around his staff. The air between them and Ryu's master crackles with unspoken history, with the weight of a confrontation that's been brewing for years.

"I thought I sensed someone familiar," Ryu's master says, his voice smooth but laced with cold malice. He stops at the base of the ramp, the Sith Acolytes halting behind him like shadows, their presence menacing in the flickering lights of the destroyed spaceport.

I feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise. There's something so wrong about this man, about the way he stands there, completely unbothered by the destruction around him. His gaze shifts, scanning over us briefly before settling on Ryu, then August. A sinister smile curls on his lips, as if he's savoring the moment.

"But to find not one, but two of my Acolytes here," he continues, his eyes narrowing as they land on August.

For a heartbeat, I'm confused. Acolytes? August? I glance over at August, whose grip on his staff tightens just a fraction. But then, as if shaking off a mask, August smirks. With a slow, deliberate movement, he releases his staff, letting it fall to the ground with a soft clatter. The transformation that follows is almost instant.

August, the frail old man, suddenly stands taller—his back straight, his posture strong. His cloak drops to the ground, revealing a much more formidable figure than I'd ever imagined. His presence changes, becoming sharp, focused, filled with a power I hadn't seen before. I can only watch, my heart racing, as he reaches behind him and pulls out a lightsaber hilt—a sleek, extended weapon that gleams in the dim light of the spaceport.

The hilt itself is long, far longer than any lightsaber I've seen Ryu use, and as August grips it, both ends extend, the metal glinting. My breath catches in my throat. The man I thought I knew is gone, replaced by a warrior standing on equal footing with Ryu's master.

"I knew someday our paths would cross again, Master," August says, a sly grin curling at the edges of his lips.

I feel my stomach churn at the word. "Master." The same word Ryu uses for the man standing before us. The realization sends a shiver down my spine. August... he was once like Ryu. He was once under this man's control, just like Ryu had been. The history between them runs deeper than I ever realized.

Ryu, too, seems surprised by the revelation. He glances at August, his brow furrowed, as though he's trying to piece together a puzzle that doesn't quite fit. But the confusion is short-lived, and his gaze quickly snaps back to his former master.

The Sith Lord chuckles, the sound low and menacing. "The Force guides us, right, August?" he says, almost mockingly, as his hand moves to his belt, unhooking the hilt of his lightsaber with a casual, deliberate motion. "The years have been kind to you. But this time, neither of you will escape."

The click of the lightsaber igniting sends a chill through me. The red blade hums to life, casting a sinister glow over the spaceport. Behind him, the six Sith Acolytes do the same, their red blades igniting one after another, the sound filling the space with an ominous buzz that reverberates in my chest.

Nikko whimpers beside me, and I instinctively pull her closer. My heart races, my mind flashing back to Ryu's memories of his last confrontation with this man—how it ended so badly. How Ryu was left broken. Fear grips me, tightening like a vice around my chest.

"This time, you will not get another chance," Ryu's master says coldly, his eyes locking onto Ryu with a look that chills me to my core. His voice is filled with a terrifying certainty, as though he's already decided the outcome.

Ryu's face hardens, his eyes narrowing as he pulls his lightsaber from his belt. The familiar snap-hiss of the yellow blade igniting fills the air, and I can see the tension in him as he holds it steady, the bright glow reflecting off his face. He takes a deep breath, his eyes closing for just a moment, centering himself.

Beside him, August does the same. His lightsaber, longer and more intricate than Ryu's, ignites with a blinding, pure white light. The blade extends from both ends of the hilt, and August twirls it effortlessly in his hands, the motion smooth and practiced. It's almost beautiful, but the threat of what's to come lingers in the air like a thick fog.

The tension between the two sides is palpable, the air so thick it's almost suffocating. The hum of the lightsabers, the distant sounds of the city's destruction, the weight of what's about to happen—it all presses down on me, making it hard to breathe. My heart pounds in my chest as I watch Ryu and August prepare to fight.

Beside me, Nikko grips my hand even tighter, her small fingers trembling. I squeeze back, trying to reassure her, but the truth is, I'm just as terrified. I remember how this went last time. I remember the pain in Ryu's eyes when he relived it. And now, here we are again, facing the same enemy.

Llamiryl's normally calm demeanor falters, her eyes darting between the Sith and Ryu, her jaw clenched in quiet tension. Even she seems unsettled, and that only makes the knot in my stomach tighten.

And then, with a sudden burst of motion, Ryu and August lunge forward, their lightsabers flashing through the air as they charge toward the Sith Lord and his Acolytes.

⚔⚔⚔⚔⚔

The fight erupts in an instant, and the air around us hums with the intense, crackling energy of clashing lightsabers. Ryu and his master collide with a force that sends ripples through the spaceport. The hiss of blades fills the air, their yellow and red sabers crashing together in a storm of light and sound, each strike reverberating through my chest. I can feel the heat of the battle, even though I stand helplessly on the sidelines.

Ryu moves with precision, his strikes measured, controlled. His yellow blade hums as it slices through the air, each movement fluid but filled with purpose. His master, however, matches him at every turn, their sabers clashing in a symphony of violence. The Sith Lord's movements are sharp and brutal, each swing of his crimson blade filled with power, as if he's trying to overwhelm Ryu with sheer force. But Ryu doesn't falter. His jaw is set, his focus unwavering.

Yet, I can see it—the tension in Ryu's eyes, the strain as he fights not just against his master, but against the torrent of emotions threatening to surface. His master's presence is like a black cloud, pressing down on him, taunting him with every clash of their sabers.

"You've grown, Ryu," his master sneers between strikes, his voice dripping with malice. "But you can't escape what you are. You're still my Acolyte, no matter how hard you fight."

Ryu doesn't respond, but I see the flicker in his eyes, the slight twitch in his jaw. The words are getting to him, whether he wants to admit it or not. I can feel it too—a dark shadow hanging over him, trying to pull him back into its grasp.

I glance over at August, who's locked in battle with the Sith Acolytes. His white-bladed lightsaber moves with an elegance I hadn't expected from someone who had once seemed so frail. He moves with a grace that defies his age, every strike fluid, calculated, lethal. One of the Acolytes rushes at him, and with a simple turn of his body, August slices through the attacker's defenses, cutting them down in a single, smooth motion.

He doesn't hesitate. As another Acolyte charges him, August spins, deflecting the red blade with ease before cutting the Sith down with a quick, efficient strike. His movements are precise—almost too precise for an old man, and yet, there he is, dismantling the Sith with an effortless skill that leaves me both surprised and impressed.

But I don't have time to marvel at August's abilities. My gaze snaps back to Ryu just as his master drives him back with a powerful overhead strike. Ryu grits his teeth, parrying the blow and sliding back to regain his footing. His master presses forward, relentless, his red blade flashing through the air like a serpent striking its prey.

"You can feel it, can't you?" the Sith Lord taunts, his voice low and dangerous. "You're still mine, Ryu. No matter how strong you think you've become, you'll never escape me."

Ryu's face tightens, his breathing growing heavier. His lightsaber hums in his hand, but there's a tension in his stance now, a flicker of doubt. The words are hitting their mark, and I can feel his struggle—the battle not just with his master, but with himself.

"No," Ryu growls, his voice thick with determination. "I'm not yours."

But even as he says the words, I can see the strain in his eyes. He's trying to hold on to his composure, to the lessons he's learned, but his master's presence is like a poison, seeping into his mind, trying to pull him back into the darkness.

Again, I glance at August. He's dispatched four of the Sith Acolytes now, their bodies crumpled to the ground and is locked in combat with the remaining two. His white blade moves with the same deadly precision, each strike cutting through the air with a sharp hiss. He moves faster than he should, far more fluidly than I ever imagined possible. There's a quiet grace in his movements, as if every step, every strike, is part of a dance he's perfected over decades.

But my attention snaps back to Ryu as I hear the crack of lightsabers clashing once more. His master is pressing harder now, trying to force Ryu into submission, trying to break his will. The red blade comes down in a powerful arc, but Ryu sidesteps, spinning to bring his yellow blade up and over in a counterstrike. The two clash again, locked in a deadly duel that leaves no room for hesitation.

Then, with a sudden burst of speed, Ryu sidesteps his master's next strike, his yellow lightsaber flashing through the air. In one swift motion, Ryu brings his blade down hard, severing his master's hand—the one holding the crimson lightsaber.

The Sith Lord stumbles, his hand dropping to the ground along with his lightsaber, the red blade flickering out as it falls. But what chills me to my core is his reaction.

⚔⚔⚔⚔⚔

He doesn't scream. He doesn't flinch. He merely stares at the stump where his hand once was, his expression cold and unfeeling, as if the pain is irrelevant. His eyes shift back to Ryu, and for a moment, everything feels still. The world narrows down to just the two of them, standing there, the fight seemingly over.

"You have grown stronger, Ryu," his master says, his voice low and almost approving. He drops to his knees, the sinister calm never leaving his face. "Now, finish this. Strike me down."

His words send a shiver down my spine. There's something in his tone—something dark, something twisted. The way he says it, as if this is what he's wanted all along.

Ryu steps forward, his lightsaber raised, the yellow glow casting shadows across his face. His expression is hard, but there's conflict in his eyes. I can feel it—the battle raging inside him. He wants to end this. He wants to kill the man who took so much from him. I can see it in the way his grip tightens on his lightsaber, in the way his breathing quickens.

"Ryu," August's voice cuts through the air, sharp and commanding. He's just finished cutting down the last of the Sith Acolytes, and his lightsaber is already off. He takes a step forward, his voice laced with urgency. "No. Don't."

Ryu hesitates, his arm still raised, the yellow blade hovering above his master.

"This man took everything from me!" Ryu shouts, his voice shaking with emotion. His lightsaber trembles in his hand, as though the weight of the decision is too much to bear. "Why should he live?"

"Because that's what he wants," August says, stepping closer, placing a hand on Ryu's shoulder. "If you strike him down, he wins. He'll always win. Let it go."

Ryu's arm shakes, his eyes darting between his master and August. I can feel his turmoil, his need for vengeance, for justice. His master kneels before him, a wicked smile curling at the corners of his lips.

"As long as I live," the Sith Lord taunts, his voice smooth and dripping with malice, "I will always control you."

I feel a cold wave of dread wash over me, my heart pounding in my chest. Ryu's face tightens, his breathing ragged. He's teetering on the edge, and I don't know what he'll do. My own hands clench into fists at my sides, anxiety twisting in my stomach as I wait, as we all wait for Ryu's next move.

"Letting him live—breaking free from his will—that's how you truly defeat him, Ryu," August says softly. "That's how you become free."

Ryu's eyes flicker to August, then back to his master, the battle raging within him visible on his face. For a moment, I don't know what he'll do. Nikko squeezes my hand so tightly that it hurts, and I can hear her breath catching in her throat. Llamiryl stands beside me, her sharp eyes fixed on Ryu, tense with anticipation.

Then, finally, Ryu takes a breath—a long, deep breath. Slowly, he lowers his lightsaber. The yellow blade flickers off, and Ryu's arm falls limply to his side, the hilt clattering against his leg. His shoulders slump as if the weight of everything is too much to carry.

"Weak and misguided," the Sith Lord hisses, the smile never leaving his face. "I expected nothing less from you, Ryu."

I want to scream, to yell at him to shut up, but before I can say anything, August steps forward, his voice calm but firm. "Let's get out of here."

Ryu nods, his face hard, but before we can move, something happens—something terrible. The Sith Lord's lightsaber lifts off the ground, ignites in midair, and in a flash, the crimson blade pierces Ryu's chest.

I hear Ryu gasp, the sound cutting through the chaos like a knife. My heart stops as I watch him stagger, his hand reaching for his chest as he drops to his knees. Blood pools beneath him, and I feel the world tilt, my vision blurring.

"NO!" I scream, my voice filled with panic.

Nikko cries out beside me, her grip on my hand crushingly tight. Llamiryl tenses, her eyes wide with shock.

August reacts in an instant. With a fierce wave of his hand, he unleashes a powerful Force push that sends the Sith Lord flying off the platform and into the burning city beyond. The dark figure disappears into the flames without a sound.

Ryu slumps forward, the Sith Lord's lightsaber still humming in his chest. But with a shaky hand, he shuts it off, the hilt clattering to the ground beside him.

"Ryu," I whisper, my voice trembling.

August moves quickly, kneeling beside him. He slings Ryu's arm over his shoulder, supporting his weight as he pulls him to his feet. Ryu groans, clutching his chest, his face pale and pained.

"We need to move," August says, his voice steady but filled with urgency. He helps Ryu toward the ship, their steps slow, but purposeful.

We follow close behind, my heart racing, my hands shaking.

⚔⚔⚔⚔⚔

The ground trembles violently beneath us as Ryu stumbles over to the wall, pressing a button with his free hand. The landing ramp begins to rise, the ship's mechanics groaning as it seals shut. I can feel the ship shift under our feet, and the tension in the air is thick, as though the entire planet itself is unraveling in chaos outside.

I follow closely behind as Ryu and August make their way to the bridge, my heart still pounding from everything we just witnessed. The sight through the ship's large viewport is nothing short of horrifying. Sith fighters scream through the skies, their sleek black forms darting through the thick smoke that now blankets the city. Every so often, a burst of red blaster fire tears through the air, striking buildings, streets, and anything unfortunate enough to be in their path. The entire city looks like it's been consumed by flames—towers collapsing, debris scattered everywhere, and flashes of fire lighting up the night.

Dropships—large ships to my eyes—begin landing across the city like monstrous invaders descending from the heavens. I watch in helpless terror as one of the ships lands directly atop a large tower in the distance. Its hatch opens, and dozens of armored Sith Troopers pour out, their faceless helmets gleaming as they march with military precision into the fray. The sight sends a shiver down my spine, and I have to look away, the sheer cruelty of it all too much to bear.

Ryu, clearly in pain, slumps into the pilot's seat. He's breathing heavily, one hand still clutching the wound in his chest while his free hand moves across the ship's controls. I glance at August, who has taken the co-pilot's seat, and frustration flares in me. Why isn't he helping Ryu with the ship? Ryu's injured, struggling to breathe, and yet August just sits there, doing nothing.

But then, I remember. He's blind.

I feel a pang of guilt for my earlier frustration, and I turn back to watch Ryu as he messes with the controls, his brow furrowed in concentration. The ship rumbles beneath us, and a loud roar fills the cabin as the engines come to life. Ryu grips the control stick with both hands now, his teeth clenched in pain as the ship begins to lift off the ground. Outside, the city continues to burn, but the Sith fighters seem to ignore us as we pass the massive dreadnoughts hovering menacingly above the skyline.

For a moment, I think we're going to make it. But then the entire ship shakes violently, and I nearly lose my footing. A loud screech fills the air as a Sith fighter zooms past the window, its green blaster fire narrowly missing us.

"That didn't take long," Ryu grunts, wincing as he grips the controls tighter. The ship continues to shake, but we're moving fast now, breaking through the atmosphere and heading toward the vast expanse of space.

"Engage the hyperdrive, Master," Ryu says, his voice strained.

August turns his head slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. He gestures to his eyes. "Blind, remember?"

"Right, almost forgot." Ryu manages a weak chuckle, despite the situation. He leans far to the right, pressing several buttons with one hand while still clutching his chest with the other. The ship hums loudly, vibrating beneath our feet as it prepares to jump to hyperspace. But then, another tremor rocks the ship as more green blaster fire slams into the hull, shaking us violently.

I grip the back of Ryu's seat as the ship shudders under the impact, my heart in my throat. Through the window, I see several Sith fighters darting around us, their blasters lighting up the space around us in a deadly dance of green energy.

"Hurry!" I can't help but whisper under my breath, fear tightening in my chest.

Ryu grits his teeth, pushing forward a lever on the control panel. The ship roars, and suddenly the stars around us stretch into long, brilliant streaks of light. The blue tunnel of hyperspace forms around us, and for a brief, fleeting moment, I think we're safe. But then, the ship shakes violently once more, and the comforting hum of hyperspace disappears, replaced by a high-pitched alarm that blares in the cockpit.

The ship spins uncontrollably, and I barely have time to cover my ears as the alarm rings out, Nikko doing the same beside me, her face pale with fear. My stomach lurches as the ship twists and turns, throwing us into a dizzying spiral. I grab onto the nearest seat, trying to steady myself as the ship finally slows, coming to an unsteady stop.

"What happened?" August asks, his voice calm despite the chaos.

Ryu groans, still clutching his chest. "We got hit just as we jumped into hyperspace. Almost all systems are down. We have little power, engines are out, hyperdrive's offline... we're drifting."

August nods slowly, leaning back in his seat. "Where exactly are we?"

Ryu shakes his head, his brow furrowed as he checks the controls. "I don't know. The entire system's down. We're blind, deaf, and drifting somewhere in space." He lets out a heavy breath. "Luckily, life support's still running. If it wasn't, we'd be dead already."

August leans his head back slightly, his expression unreadable. "A sliver of hope, then."

"Someone might find us," August adds, though his tone is neutral.

Ryu huffs, glancing over at him. "That someone could be the Sith Empire."

"Could be," August agrees, nodding. "Could also be the Republic. But let's not dwell on the what-ifs. Let's tend to your wounds first. Can you stand?"

Ryu exhales sharply, his face pale. "Barely."

They both rise, and I follow closely behind as we make our way through the narrow corridors of the ship. The walls are sleek, lined with blinking lights and strange devices I don't recognize. It's so foreign, so advanced. I've never seen anything like it before.

We enter a larger room, filled with machinery I can't begin to understand. A large tank, filled with some kind of glowing blue liquid, stands at the center of the room. It's big enough to fit a person inside, but I don't know what it's for. Strange devices line the walls—metal boxes with blinking lights, tubes running from them into the ceiling, and small dials and levers that I can't make sense of.

There's also a strange droid standing motionless in the corner of the room, its body sleek and covered in blinking lights. It looks... dormant. Ryu limps toward it, his face set in determination, and tries pressing several buttons on the control panel. But nothing happens.

"Damn it," he mutters, his voice filled with pain and frustration. He moves to the glowing tank, trying to activate it as well, but the controls are unresponsive. His breathing grows more labored, and he lets out a painful grunt of frustration, slamming his hand against the console.

"Nothing's working," Ryu growls through gritted teeth. "But I bet..."

He limps over to a set of sealed doors, waving his hand in front of them. They hiss open, revealing a stash of medical supplies—various tools, syringes, and devices that are completely foreign to me. I watch as he grabs a few items, his movements slow but determined.

I can only stand by, unsure of what to do as he begins tending to his wound.

Ryu sits on the edge of a medical table, his breathing ragged as he holds a thin, clear bottle in his hand. At the end of it is a long, needle-like tube. He clenches his jaw, his face pale, as he positions the needle against his chest. I watch, my stomach twisting, as he winces in pain, driving the needle through the scorched skin of his chest wound.

Clear liquid moves through the thin tube, disappearing into his body. I can see the tension in his jaw as he pushes the contents of the bottle slowly, forcing himself to endure the pain. It's difficult to watch. Nikko clings to my side, her small hands gripping my arm tightly, and I can feel her fear mirroring my own.

Llamiryl stands beside us, her eyes fixed on Ryu with a quiet fascination, as though every movement he makes is a puzzle she's determined to understand. She watches as Ryu pulls the needle out and reaches for another strange device from the shelf, this one metallic and curved, with handles on both sides. I have no idea what it is, but Ryu moves with a certainty that suggests he's done this before.

He presses the device against the scorched hole in his chest, and I flinch as he squeezes the handles together. A loud click echoes through the room as the device stitches the edges of the wound together, sealing it. Ryu winces but continues, repeating the motion until the wound is closed. His breathing is heavy, sweat beading on his forehead, but he doesn't stop until it's done.

With a final click, the device snaps shut, and Ryu repeats the process again with the exit wound before tossing it to the side, the metal clattering against the floor. He leans heavily against the wall, his chest rising and falling as he slumps to the ground, one hand still clutching his wound. His face is drawn, tired, but there's a small glimmer of relief in his eyes.

"How are you feeling?" August's voice breaks the silence, his tone calm but concerned as he sits down beside Ryu, his blind eyes seemingly focused on him.

Ryu lets out a breath, his eyes half-closed. "Hurts like hell," he mutters, his voice strained. "But the medicine... it's working. Doesn't hurt as bad as it did before."

August nods slowly, his expression calm as he, too, leans against the wall. "Good," he says simply, his voice steady. For a moment, the two of them just sit there, side by side, the tension in the room easing just a little.

"What now, Master?" Ryu asks after a long silence, his voice low and rough. He clutches his wound, breathing deeply as if trying to gather his strength. "We're stuck, drifting in space. What do we do now?"

August doesn't answer right away. Instead, he closes his eyes, a small, almost thoughtful smile playing on his lips. "We wait, of course," he finally says, his voice carrying that calm wisdom he always seems to have. "Someone will come across us eventually."

Ryu lets out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. "That could be weeks... months... maybe even years, Master. If someone finds us. We'll run out of food and water before that happens—if we get found."

August tilts his head slightly, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. "Thinking negatively won't get us anywhere, Ryu. There is always hope. The Force works in ways we cannot always see. I have a good feeling that we will be found."

"I wish I shared that same optimism," Ryu grunts, though there's a flicker of amusement in his tired eyes. "This isn't exactly the best situation we've found ourselves in."

They both fall silent after that, the air between them heavy but not tense. They seem at ease with each other, even in the midst of this impossible situation. I watch as they sit together, side by side, August's calm presence somehow keeping Ryu grounded, despite the pain and uncertainty.

My heart feels a little lighter watching them, but it's hard to shake the fear gnawing at the edges of my mind. Nikko presses closer to me, her small body trembling as she clings to my arm. I give her a reassuring squeeze, though I'm not sure how much reassurance I can offer in this situation.

The silence stretches, the dim lights of the medical bay casting long shadows across the room. And then, slowly, the edges of the room begin to blur. The walls, the lights, the machines—all of it starts to fade away, dissolving into nothingness.

⚔⚔⚔⚔⚔

In the blink of an eye, the memory is gone, and we're back in the endless hallway once again. The quiet hum of the strange space surrounds us, but for a moment, I can still hear the echo of Ryu's breathing, the weight of the memory lingering in the air.

I let out a breath, my heart still pounding in my chest.

Nikko's small voice breaks the silence, her wide eyes searching for reassurance. "Is that horrible man actually gone?"

I glance down at her, my heart heavy with uncertainty. I wish I could give her a definitive answer, but even I'm not sure. "I hope so," I say quietly, though the doubt lingers in my mind. I can't shake the feeling that something is still unfinished—that Ryu's former master might not be truly gone. Not yet.

Llamiryl, ever focused, steps forward, her fingers weaving in the air as she summons another door. It materializes before us with the same ethereal glow, and with a nod, she gestures for us to follow.

We step through, the air around us shifting once more. The familiar surroundings of the ship greet us again, but this time, we're in what looks like a cargo room. It's dimly lit, the walls lined with various crates and containers. The space feels colder, more industrial compared to the rest of the ship.

Talia and the others spot Ryu and August standing before a strange machine, one that instantly draws my attention. It's large, towering above them, with a sleek, metallic surface that gleams under the low lights of the room. The design is unlike anything I've ever seen, but far more ominous in its appearance. The front of the machine is encased in thick, transparent glass, revealing a hollow interior.

Inside, I can see nozzles arranged in a circular pattern, all aimed inward, as if they're meant to inject something into whatever—or whoever—would be placed inside. The machinery hums faintly, a low, almost mechanical growl, and there's an unsettling coldness that seems to radiate from it.

I watch in silence as Ryu and August stand before the machine, their expressions unreadable.

Ryu's gaze darts across the strange machine, confusion etched on his face. "Why have you brought me to this carbonite freezing chamber, Master?" His voice is filled with unease, and I can sense the tension rising between them.

Carbonite? I ask myself, the word foreign to me. What could that be?

August's voice is steady, unnervingly calm. "Because this machine will be our solution to our predicament."

Ryu's eyes widen in disbelief, and I feel my heart drop at the same time. "You want us to freeze ourselves in carbonite?" His voice rises, incredulous. "That's crazy, Master! The side effects alone—if we even survive the freezing..."

August cuts him off, his voice unwavering. "Not we, Ryu. Just you."

Ryu stares at him, eyes wide, trying to process the weight of what August just said. "Just me?" His voice falters. "Master, you can't be serious. This is insane. Surely, both of us—"

But then, as if a dreadful realization hits him, Ryu stops mid-sentence. His expression darkens as he pieces it together. "There's only enough power to use this machine once, isn't there?" he asks, his voice soft, filled with a sinking realization.

August shrugs, and his response feels almost too casual. "You tell me. I'm blind, so I wouldn't know."

Ryu's expression tightens, and there's a flash of desperation in his eyes. "But if this machine gets used, that'll drain the last of the ship's power, and you will... will..." He trails off, his voice cracking, the pain in his words clear.

"Die?" August finishes, his tone calm, as though he's merely discussing the weather. "Yes, Ryu, I would. But my time is nearing its end, and your journey is only beginning."

"No... no," Ryu mutters, shaking his head. "There has to be another way. We can figure something out—fix the systems, send a distress signal. Maybe someone will find us."

August's expression remains serene, but his voice is firm. "Ryu, look around. The ship's systems are dead. Our supplies have dwindled. We are drifting in the vastness of space, and every hour that passes brings us closer to the end. This machine is your only chance."

"I... I can't leave you behind," Ryu says, his voice shaking. "You saved me. You've been my guide, my master—how could I just walk away from that?"

August steps forward, placing a firm hand on Ryu's shoulder, his gaze unyielding despite his blindness. "The Force brought us together, Ryu. And now, it has shown me that it is time for me to let go. You have to learn to walk your path alone."

Ryu's shoulders slump as he glances at the machine, then back at August. "I can't do this without you."

"You can. And you will," August says, his voice filled with quiet wisdom. "The Force will be with you, guiding you, as it has always been. Even in darkness, it will light your way."

Ryu's jaw clenches as his eyes fill with tears, the weight of everything pressing down on him. "But this isn't right," he protests, his voice thick with emotion. "There has to be another way. There must be."

"If there were another way, I'd have taken it long before now," August replies, his voice unwavering. "You know this is the only choice we have left. The supplies are gone. The ship is failing. We cannot survive here much longer."

Ryu's face hardens, frustration and grief battling in his expression. "I don't want you to die. This... this isn't fair."

August smiles softly, and for a moment, he looks almost peaceful. "Life isn't fair, Ryu. But it is full of choices. And right now, you have a choice to make. You can hold onto the past, or you can let go and step into the future."

Tears spill down Ryu's cheeks as he lowers his gaze, the conflict raging inside him. He tries to speak, but his words catch in his throat.

August's voice remains gentle but firm. "You have to trust in the Force. Trust in yourself. You are stronger than you realize, Ryu. I've always known that. But now, you must believe it too."

Ryu closes his eyes, a single tear slipping down his cheek. "Thank you, Master," he whispers, his voice breaking.

August gives him a small nod, his hand resting on Ryu's shoulder. "You don't need to thank me. Just live. That's thanks enough."

With a heavy heart, Ryu steps toward the machine, his feet dragging as though weighed down by an invisible force. The glass door parts with a soft hiss, steam curling around the edges. Ryu hesitates, his hand trembling as he places it on the side of the machine.

"I'll never forget you, August," Ryu says, his voice low, filled with pain.

"You won't need to," August replies, his voice steady. "Look for the Force, Ryu, and you will always find me."

Ryu steps inside the chamber, the glass doors closing behind him with a soft click. I watch, my heart racing, as the steam fills the small space. It's like watching someone step into a tomb, knowing they won't come out the same—or come out at all.

The steam obscures Ryu from view, and I feel Nikko grip my arm tighter, her body trembling. "Talia... is he going to be okay?" she asks, her voice small and scared.

"I don't know," I whisper, my own fear creeping into my voice.

As the steam begins to clear, my breath catches in my throat. Ryu's body is suspended within the chamber in a solid block of metallic material, his body frozen in a state of calm resignation. His arms rest at his sides, completely still, as if he has accepted his fate. His face, though frozen, carries a profound sadness. His eyes are gently closed, his brows relaxed, but his mouth is set in a faint frown, the sadness etched deeply into his features. It's as though he's caught in a moment of reflection, locked in a place between resolve and sorrow.

The material encases him entirely, capturing every detail of his form in unnerving precision. His clothing, his features, even the lines of his face are preserved perfectly, as though sculpted into the cold surface. His hair, tousled slightly, is pressed against the smooth texture, every strand visible. The expression on his face is calm, but it carries the weight of the decision he's made—an air of finality that haunts me as I look upon him. The material feels like a tomb, preserving his figure in a moment of stillness, as if he's been taken from life and placed into a state of eternal quiet, unreachable and locked away.

Nikko gasps, clutching at me even tighter. "He... he looks like he's gone."

Llamiryl steps forward, her eyes wide with shock. "By the spirits..."

I can't speak. The weight of the moment is crushing me, making it hard to breathe. My heart aches as I stare at Ryu's frozen form, and for the first time, I feel truly helpless. There's nothing we can do. Nothing any of us can do.

Then, just like that, the memory begins to dissolve. The walls, the machine, Ryu—everything fades away, slipping into the void. But before the memory fades completely, August's voice echoes one last time, soft but filled with certainty.

"Look for the Force, Ryu, and you will always find me."

With a blink, we're back in the endless hallway. The memory is gone, but the weight of it lingers, heavy and oppressive. I glance at Nikko, still clutching my arm, her face pale and filled with fear. Llamiryl stands beside us, her expression unreadable but tense.

None of us speak. The silence is thick with everything we've just witnessed.