Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Ja’hon fiddled with the small metal charm hanging from his neck while he waited for the pilot to lower the hangar door.

It was a gift from Hei’a, one she’d crafted in her own hand, with Ve’lon’s sign-symbol on one side and her own on the other, clearly marking Ja’hon as theirs, no matter how far this journey may take him from their home. From his home.

“Ready to disembark.”

Ja’hon nodded to the crew member of the small cargo transporter. They were a small crew, trusted by the people of Tund to bring good on and off planet without opening the planet up to unwanted influences. It had taken time, for the leaders of the sect here on Tund to approve Ja’hon’s entry, and to then connect him to this particular crew. 

It had taken nearly three weeks of travel through shady waystations and rundown haulers just to make it to his meeting point with this crew, and then they’d required multiple pieces of identifying documentation before they let him board.

During the trip to Tund, the crew’s leader explained that the few goods produced by the Sorcerers of Tund for off-planet consumption were highly valued, and they were unwilling to end up on the wrong side of their suppliers.

Ja’hon walked down and onto the new planet.

He doesn’t think he’s even been in a place with some many people who were not human or near-human.

Most of the landing station was manned by one of what Ja’hon assumed were two species. One was relatively shorter, with long limbs and a body that seemed to be dominated by their diamond-shaped head. The other species was generally taller and there was more variation in their skins’ shades of red compared to the other specie’s different washes of yellows and light tans.

Many of the ‘red’ species (Ja’hon assumed these were the Red Sith) also had some kind of tendril structure on their face, though the exact length, amount and placement seemed to vary, and not just in connection to dimorphic sex of the species. Only some of them had any hair on their head, and those who did had very high foreheads.

Though, what did Ja’hon know? Maybe there were more biological sexes for this species, and their tendrils were some kind of marker?

Three of the ‘red’ species broke from the well-maintained bustle of the landing station to approach their ship. One then broke off to speak with the captain while the other two, robbed with ritual marks on their foreheads, approached Ja’hon.

Ja’hon broadcasted a general sense of ‘good tidings’ toward the two Force-sensitive beings. They stopped about three feet from Ja’hon and executed some kind of ritual half-bow.

“Welcome, son of the Zeison Sha. I am Master Tenault, and this is my assistant, Acolyte Mylene. We are looking forward to exchanging knowledge with you and, through you, the Zeison Sha.”

Ja’hon clasped his hands together and performed a low bow over his joined fists.

“I am Ja’hon Kelt, Warrior of Zeison Sho. I also look forward to our exchange.”

One corner of the assistant’s mouth rose just slightly. Perhaps she was amused by the farce.

The Zeison Sha were strong warriors, but their abilities and techniques in the Force could not compare with the Sorcerers of Tund. And his people in turn had little to learn from the mystics and academics that would better their own fighting techniques.

He shifted his pack higher up his shoulder and followed where the sorcerers led, out the dock and into the city proper. It was sprawling and beautiful. Beautiful yellow-red stone buildings were covered in lush foliage, much of it blooming in a riot of colors. Children could be seen and heard laughing and playing, while older members of both species moved with purpose, but also with ease.

Maybe he would enjoy his time on Tund.

_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_

“I still do not see why he is the one trusted with this task.”

“Now, Mylene, give the young man a chance. Unity has brought him to this path, and we can only do our best to help him on this journey.”

Ja’hon heard the assistant, Mylene, huff at her teacher. He imagined she crossed her arms as well. She seemed the type.

“This is a task for a mystic or a witch. Not a… simple fighter. What will he be able to even do if he does find something? Hit it with some metal?”

Ja’hon was offended on his discblade’s behalf, but one who eavesdropped could not be offended if they did not appreciate what they heard about themselves.

Master Tenault and Acolyte Mylene were standing just outside the set of rooms in their sect’s main administrative building where Ja’hon would stay during his time on Tund.

While Master Tenault had other business to attend to, Acolyte Mylene would remain with Ja’hon for the rest of the day as an escort and guide. He doubted it would be a pleasant experience.

Ja’hon moved quietly back to the lone dresser and loudly closed the door, then on heavy feet walked back to the rooms’ entrance and opened the door.

Master Tenault smiled at him. Acolyte Mylene did not.

“Well, I will leave you in the highly capable hands of Mylene, and please feel free to join me and my house tomorrow evening for late-meal. On Tund, homes are traditionally closed to outsiders one day out of every ten-day, which I am very sorry to say is of course the day you have arrived on our lovely planet, but every other day of the ten-day I would not be surprised if someone does not ask you to join their household for at least one meal. Ah, Mylene-”

“Yes Master Tenault, I will take him to get a ready meal for tonight, and make sure he has enough items for his breakfasts for the next few days.”

“Unity has blessed me with you, Mylene. And I will see you tomorrow, Warrior Ja’hon.”

“Just Ja’hon is fine. And I will see you tomorrow.”

Mylene was both begrudging and regal throughout her tour of the main points of interest on the hexagon-shaped city center where the public administration building was located. Within a short walk from his front door, or rather the administration building’s front door, Ja’hon could access a small grocery store with mostly ready made and quick-meal items, along with fruits and vegetables that did not need to be prepared to be eaten, a park popular for exercise and other forms of recreation like table games and handball, and a public bath house, since most homes on Tund only maintained sonic showers and personal wash stands for daily use.

Mylene explained that most citizens visited one of the public bath houses twice a week, though Ja’hon was welcomed to use them more if he preferred.

“As you have likely noticed, few people on Tund have the amount of hair on their head common among humans and near-humans, so I am unsure if our bathing habits are compatible with your species.”

“I’m sure I will be fine, but thank you.”

Mylene bowed her head, dismissive and courtly, before walking in front of him.

“Now, I will show you to the temple center.”

Ja’hon took the opportunity to study Mylene as she led him through the city. She was tall for a woman, though all the red Tund (or should he call them red sith? He really was not sure) seemed to be tall. Ja’hon himself was considered tall at 6 feet tall, but Mylene was at the same height, or perhaps even slightly taller. She was bald, like most of her people, and her skin was a slightly washed out red with an almost pink undertone. There was a short tendril at each cheekbone and on either side of her chin.

She was also dressed in thin, flowing deep blue fabrics, though both her bust and one forearm were wrapped tightly instead. Mylene also wore some kind of pendant at her neck. Ja’hon had seen a similar, though larger pendant on Master Tenault, so he was pretty sure it was some kind of marker of her station or practice, or even both.

“The temple center is not just the focus of religious life, at least for our sect, most of the Toong worship differently, but also the center of all studies related to Unity, or what you may refer to as the Force.”

“Wouldn’t that make it the true center of the city?”

Mylene paused and looked back at Ja’hon before continuing on her way.

“Of this city, yes, but Tund as a whole is not so dedicated to Unity. And most settlements are majority Red Sith descendants or Toong. We can live together, but there are some practicalities that make it difficult to share homes and streets. This, in essence, is a port city between the planet of Tund and the rest of a galaxy, so we are more mixed here than throughout the rest of the planet.”

“So, this is the center of worship of the… the Unity? As well?”

Mylene spared Ja’hon a look over her shoulder at this.

“No, there are enclaves throughout the planet. But this is one of the sites dedicated to learning, while most enclaves focus on practice or worship. It is also the first stop for all Force-sensitives from outside sects.”

So, this would be where they would test his intentions. He nodded, though he doubted Mylene was still watching him and focused ahead.

All told, it did not take long for them to reach the temple center. Mylene was right, Ja’hon thought it more similar to how universities are portrayed in holoreels than how Ja’hon would imagine a temple.

Most of the beings rushing about were younger, with elders who gave the air of ‘teacher’ sprinkled in their midst. There was a center courtyard similar to the city’s main park where, acolytes?  were sat in clusters talking, sometimes loudly, with one another.

As they walked the edge of the courtyard, Mylene pointed out discussion halls, laboratories and smaller meeting rooms. She also showed him some dormitories Mylene said were typically used by groups of Force-users who visited Tund for Conclaves or other joint practices.

“There are groups we do not want to give free reign of the city, let alone the planet, like those Dathomiri Nightwitches.”

Ja’hon focused in on Mylene. The shape of her mouth was nearly a grimace, as if she was holding back her disdain.

“Did you meet them? WHen they came for the Conclave?”

Mylene nodded.

“They did not say anything about the stolen child to me, but from what I understand one of their members, a witch named Kycina, secretly shared the information with another coven while they were all housed here at the temple center.”

Mylene huffed and looked at Ja’hon. He believed the frustration evident on her face was not actually directed toward him.

“I am not a Seer, so I helped with administrative matters during the Conclave, like organizing transportation for our Sorcerers coming into the city, and the lodging and feeding of our visitors. In this role, we take a posture much like a servant, attentive but removed. My cohort heard nothing of these reports of a stolen child until those Nightwitches had long left Tund. Perhaps we were too removed to be trusted.”

Ja’hon shrugged.

“Those kinds of differences in expectations can’t be helped. And maybe it was for the best. Maybe Kycina only shared what happened to her child because she knew it would not be investigated until after she returned home. Or maybe she was not acting in good faith, and she wanted a disagreement between the Sorcerers of Tund and the Nightwitches for her own benefit.”

“Really? You think it possible?”

Ja’hon shrugged again.

“Who knows. Nightwitches are known to only tell the truth, but not in any way one can trust. And their view of loyalty can be a strange thing, from what I’ve been told.They also care little for males, and it was a son that was stolen, a child already viewed as a pawn.”

Mylene huffed and turned from Ja’hon back to the courtyard, crossing her arms.

“Perhaps you are right, Unity guides us.”

There was a grudging respect in her voice and Ja’hon found it felt… good to prove himself to this accomplished practitioner.

Chapter Text

“Well, the metal certainly is more willing.”

One of the young students pulled off his heavy protective gloves while frowning down at the cooling lump of metals before him.

Ja’hon only felt slightly guilty.

The Sorcerers were skilled in many arts, with scrying and alchemy of flesh as the most prominent. Mylene practiced alchemy of the flesh, and during the past three months on Tund Ja’hon had been amazed at what she and her fellow practitioners could accomplish.

There were many specializations within the alchemists. Mylene had brought Ja’hon to meet with healers and ecologists, both of whom fascinated Ja’hon with their work. The process was nearly opposite of what he had learned from the Wandering Jedi, For example, alchemist healers could easily heal an injury but diseases were much more difficult, and one healer had explained that it was easier for them to grow a patient a new organ than to permanently heal a mass within the patient.

From what little Ja’hon had learned from Fay, Jedi healers were usually able to cleanse diseases completely, given enough time, but the building of a new organ, or even a new limb, was beyond their abilities.

And then, of course, there were scientific advances that were necessary for the alchemists to know how to use their abilities effectively. Ja’hon imagined it was the same for Jedi Healers.

It made his head fill with possibilities, if these different practitioners could work together across the galaxy.

He knew why they did not.

Had he not experienced the dissonance in his own training, between what he learned from his father and his own people and what he learned from the Jedi? And the Zeison Sha did not hide that their practices were direct off-shoots of the Jedi. How much more disconcerting could it be for the Sorcerers to work with Jedi?

A few weeks ago during a shared mid-meal, Ja’hon more or less said all of this to Mylene. She’d scoffed at him, a sound he’d grown familiar with over his time on Tund.

“Certainly they would be able to work together. I think our healers and theirs would both jump at the chance. And you should know- (ah, another of the many things Ja’hon should know!) -we are very open to others who feel the Unity. It is why we hold the Communion and different conclaves throughout the cycle. It is even why we keep our planet so protected and shrouded, so those who are invited can feel safe here.”

Alright, so maybe she was right, and he should know this at least. She was right far too often.

“So why don’t you work with the Jedi?”

Mylene had made a face, mouth pursed and nose scrunched.

“Our scrying. Those in Coruscant are wary of seeking knowledge from the future.”

 “I thought your people mainly search for general knowledge?”

“We do. And sometimes Unity is more exact with what is provided and wants us to know what is to come, or what could come. When we feel that draw, we race toward it. The Jedi do not. They brace for it, like a horrible storm they must weather. So they do not like to work with us unless they have to. And they don’t like that we do not hold their same view, about black and white.”

Ja’hon, with blatantly fake reluctance, reminded her that he too held the “black and white view”. She’d clicked her toungue and snapped her chopsticks at him before rudely stabbing them into the last piece of protein on her plate, letting him see what she thought of his rebuttal.

He’d tried to hold back a grin. Master Tenault had already discussed their view of the Force, or Unity as the Sorcerers called it, during his first week. He’d also told Ja’hon why they continued to work with other Force-users who did not share their belief, that perhaps there was a reason Unity wanted some of their other children to see them in a particular way, or perhaps the Sorcerers were called to care for them and bring them gently to truth through their example.

Mylene had stood beside Master Tenault the whole time, lips pursed and trying not to roll her eyes at the stupidity of others, and sometimes failing.

Later, as Mylene and Ja’hon grew to know each other better, he’d found it was easy to rile her while in the presence of others by describing his beliefs, or asking very naive questions about the Sorcerers’ beliefs, and allowing her fellow sect-members to gently teach him their ways, giving looks to Mylene all the while for ignoring the poor traveler’s spiritual enlightenment.

Ja’hon had decided to leave that particular torment alone, and instead mused that it was too bad there were no metal-workers on Tund so he could at least provide some work to pay back his hosts.

Mylene’s smile had been positively evil, an echo across time of her most terrifying ancestors.

And now Ja’hon was here, in a ramshackle forge (a way a forge should never be described) with a group of young acolytes who were trying to bring back the ancient practice of metallurgy, a practice Ja’hon knew had existed, but was largely thought to be lost before Mylene had brought him to this….club.

He looked down into the mould the acolytes were attempting to use as a crucible where they mixed different metals together. The two metals were reacting to the push and pull of the students, but largely because the metals would rather follow the nudges of the Force than join with one another!

Mylene’s amusement at Ja’hon’s building horror was practically radiating from her person.

“I-, if I may?”

The acolytes turned to him then, eager for whatever information he would provide. When Mylene brought him to their…meeting a few hours before, he’d warned them that some of the practices of the Zeison Sha were closed to outsiders. They’d been disappointed, but respectful, and instead asked if he would be willing to oversee their work.

It was amazing none of them had lost a finger, if this is how they’d been operating. Then Ja’hon thought again, and realized someone likely had, but an alchemist of the flesh like Mylene had probably reattached it.

“The metals are more reactive to-to Unity because they are not properly mixing together, not due to a break through.”

The acolyte closest to Ja’hon, a young thing teetering between boy and man, visibly slumped.

He looked around the room. They all were rather defeated. Ja’hon then looked back at Mylene. She met his gaze, no longer laughing, just attentive, ready to hear from him. He looked down at the hot metal in the mould, and he thought about Fay, her willingness to teach him even if he would never really be a Jedi, and Ve’lon’s encouragement to learn, to cherish the Zeison Sha way but to not be limited by it.

He thought about an agreement, made thousands of years before, unwritten but carved into the very foundations of their galaxy by those who survived a thousand years of the deepest dark; we will not let this bloodshed continue, we will live side-by-side in peace.

He looked at Mylene again. The Sorcerers wanted more than to live in peace. They wanted to thrive, and they did not want to do so alone, or at the expense of others. Ja’hon brushed a hand against his discblade strapped in its harness at his left hip.

He did not need to teach these acolytes to forge and use a discblade to share knowledge.

“Do you all meet here every day?”

“Ah, most days, yes.”

Ja’hon nodded.

“If you show me everything you have here, explain what you know of metal-smithing, could some of you dedicate time tomorrow to reworking the, the forge?”

The gathered acolytes looked around at one another.

“Ah, why?”

“It is not functional in its current state. And I don’t know if you have all of the tools that would be necessary.”

They conferred with one another, then agreed to Ja’hon’s suggestion. He watched them shut down the forge and forced himself not to wince, or shout, or step in and stop them as they nearly burned themselves multiple times.

As they left the forge, Mylene asked if Ja’hon would like to reorganize his schedule to include more time with the metallurgy student group. His head dropped back and he groaned. Mylene laughed, and Ja’hon watched the way her eyes creased to slits and her mouth opened in a wide, joyful smile at his frustration.

_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_

His days took shape from then on. 

Four days out of every ten, Ja’hon was helping the metallurgy student groups build their forge and workshop, along with teaching them basic smithing. 

The Zeison Sha were not terribly skilled smiths, not like Mandalorian armorers or Kashyyyk bladesmiths, but their discblades were formidable and there were multiple forges near the Yanibar spaceport where Zeison Sha smiths sold other metal goods or made repairs for Outer Ring travelers who wanted a trustworthy, basic repair.

He would not teach these students their secrets of how to mix one’s very self into the metal alloy of a discblade, but Ja’hon could still teach them how to make a metal tong without hurting themselves or others.

Ja’hon found it restful to return to working metal. All Zeison Sha know basic metal-working, especially those who are Force-sensitive, but not all spend significant time working the craft once they reach adulthood.

There is a peaceful usefulness to the work he does and what he teaches. Some of the acolytes begin spending less time at the forge, disenchanted with the simple things Ja’hon is teaching them, but there is a magic to it, when one of the students learns to re-tin a pot, and their client, an elder Toong, promises the young student a month of rest day meals in payment, and the young acolyte shines in the Force.

The student tells Ja’hon after that while they are above average in their skill scrying, no one has ever appreciated their work as much as that little elder Toong.

“Unity brought you here, to remind us why we should seek out metallurgy at all; not for the glory of triumph, or even to find a lost art, but to help one another.”

It humbles Ja’hon.

He is not the only one humbled during Ja’hon’s time on Tund.

Ja’hon spends the rest of his ten-day working with Master Tenault to work through information the scryers have gathered. They’ve also sent out calls to other Force-sects, coded and only to those who were completely trusted, for them to ‘search Unity’ as well, for the lost child specifically, and for the growing darkness more generally.

The child cannot be found. Most report of an impenetrable darkness. A few become lost in it. Most have not gone so deep they cannot be brought back by their fellow members, but at least three are lost and cannot be brought back, and a fourth dies screaming, blood pouring from their orifices.

Their last words are still reported to the Sorcerers of Tund. 

‘The roots, everywhere there are the roots’

When the message came through to Tund, Ja’hon did not sleep that night, nor did he sleep well the following nights. Eventually Mylene came to Ja’hon in the late evening. She silently led him behind the administrative building to a small path. She took his hand and brought Ja’hon through a copse of trees to a small, overgrown meditation garden.

Mylene sent him into the garden, and when he finished settling his mind, he rejoined her at the edge of the garden. There, she’d unrolled a small woven mat, on top of which Mylene had laid out small containers of curried fruits and some crackers, and she worked a small travel kettle for their morning tea.

They did not speak during that breakfast, just watched the sun rise over the treeline together. His ‘thank you’ was a squeeze of Mylene’s hand as they left the garden. Her ‘welcome’ was a small, tired, lovely smile.

One of the younger scryers, a person a little younger than Mylene and Ja’hon but still close to their mastery due to their immense skill, tried brushing along the darkness. They could not push through the darkness, but perhaps they could see where the darkness was strongest, where it was weakest, perhaps even where it was older and settled or where it was growing.

The sorcerers tested this concept themselves, and put out word for their allies to hold, to wait before pushing forward.

From what Ja’hon, Master Tenault and Mylen could understand from the many talented scryers among the Sorcerers of Tund, the process was still difficult and dangerous. This darkness was not so absolute, and careful work was done to study it. It was varied, as if different structures, spells, alchemical works, bindings were done at different times over different places and to hide or distract from different thoughts or happenings.

It was still unclear where Ja’hon should go next, what they, as a collective, should do next, or even what exactly they had discovered.

Ja’hon was reminded of an old adage; “the journey grows longer the farther you go.”

Chapter Text

Ja’hon often turned to the forge during these times, or even went to help in the refectories or support cleaning droids. He needed to keep his hands busy.

The meditation garden behind the administration building became his own retreat, where he would meditate and train with and without his discblade and even garden, his own hands in the dirt, though he was not particularly skilled with plants.

Mylene would often join him there, and she would complete her own meditations, or join him in caring for the garden, with drastic results.

Each time he would gape like an idiot, and Mylene would tilt her head, smug.

“I am an Alchemist of the Flesh, did you forget what that means, oh great warrior?”

The metallurgy acolytes also grew in skill, and Ja’hon was worried and impressed when some of them began to work the hot metal with the Force. It was difficult for them, since the Sorcerers of Tund largely did not move physical objects with the Force. After one accident that would have had life-altering consequences if Mylene had not been present, Ja’hon decided to put a new rule in place.

If one wanted to move hot metal with the Force, they must first prove a certain level of mastery in moving other objects first.

This frustrated his students, but Ja’hon was supported in his decision by Master Tenault and the other academic leaders in the temple complex.

The support came with a price, as Master Tenault informed Ja’hon over late-meal in Master Tenault’s busy home.

Ja’hon was now expected to lead lessons in lifting and moving objects in the Force.

“I am not exactly a typical student of the Zeison Sha or the Coruscant Jedi, I don’t really know what is appropriate to teach beginners. Or, how to teach them.”

Mylene, seated next to Ja’hon, snorted and passed Ja’hon a lentil salad. He served himself, then passed the bowl on to Master Tenault’s middle daughter.

“We have some primers left by the last Jedi who visited Tund-” (“So they are over a hundred years old,” Vesh, one of Tenault’s partners, said wryly. Their other partner, a woman named Yelena, tsked and lightly shoved Vesh, but Yelena was smiling. Master Tenault ignored them both, though one corner of their mouth dug further into their cheek. Ja’hon did not know if it was in amusement or annoyance.) “-so those should provide some guidance for what kind of information is acceptable to share with outsiders.”

Master Tenault helped his youngest child dig some of the lentil salad from the serving bowl, kissed their head, then served himself.

“If I remember correctly- (Ja’hon was sure Master Tenault had looked over the lessons earlier that day) -the lessons are designed for children, so they may need some adjustment for your students, but the skills and knowledge should be even clearer.”

Mylene scoffed.

“Oh, I think lessons for children might be just right for that group.”

 Mylene had not been impressed with the metallurgy acolytes before Ja’hon came to Tund, and she’d told him that her opinions had not drastically changed the more time she spent around them after Ja’hon began teaching them.

She’d been especially frustrated with their “whining chatter” after Ja’hon’s new rule on moving hot metal.

So Ja’hon becomes a teacher.

More students left his little group, but others joined, some who are not interested in metallurgy at all, but they are interested in learning to move objects with the Force, or ‘with the help and guidance of Unity’, as they say.

Master Tenault’s eldest child was one of Ka’hon’s most talented students.

Ja’hon was surprised to realize months into his time on Tund, that his days are rather full, with a true schedule, as if he is part of the social ecosystem here.

He made this discovery while sitting in the back garden, watching Mylene coax a young sapling Ja’hon had planted with her the day before.

It was late, but the moon is bright each night this week, and the white-blue light on Mylene’s skin gives her a violet hue. Her lips, naturally a darker shade of red, look berry-stained.

Ja’hon watched Mylene’s hands, the small, pleased smile on her face, listened to her soft murmurs, words indistinct, as he considered this.

He would leave Tund.

Not yet, but he felt it was not too far off.

Mylene looked over at Ja’hon then, and smiled. Closed mouthed, one corner of her lips higher than the other. She stood from where she’d been kneeling beside the sapling, and slowly walked over to where Ja’hon was sprawled under a larger plant, something between a tree and a bush. Neither of them had the heart to force it to grow into one or the other.

“Ja’hon, your face is too serious.”

“I thought you wanted me to be serious.”

She rolled her eyes while sitting next to him arranging her tunic dress just so.

After situating herself Mylene studied him.

“What concerns you?”

“I’m unsure where I will go next.”

Mylene nodded.

“A thing worth your concern.”

Ja’hon huffed out a breath, just shy of a sigh. He could not look at her and say this.

“I worry I am too settled here, that I will not go when the Force calls me, because I have too greatly entrenched myself here.”

“Hey”

He felt Mylene’s hand on his cheek. She turned Ja’hon’s head to look back at her.

“Everything you leave here is a blessing from Unity. There is a reason you are here now, training our idiots. And you will not leave this purpose until you are given your next purpose. I know you, Ja’hon, you will not ignore your calling. Trust yourself, trust you were chosen for a reason.”

Then, his eyes were closed, and they’d both leaned forward, or maybe only Ja’hon had, and his forehead rested against Mylene’s. His hand was over Mylene’s, still resting on Ja’hon’s cheek.

He wanted to open his eyes. He wanted to lean forward. He wanted to taste her mouth.

Her thumb swept over his cheek. She drew in a shaky breath.

“Ja-hon-”

Mylene was not hiding herself from Ja’hon. It was generally rude on Tund to not shield yourself if possible, something true of most Force-sects, but the bare flicker of Mylene’s admiration, her care, her desire were present. Ja’hon doubted he was any different.

He pulled back. Ja’hon did not open his eyes until they were no longer touching.

She was so beautiful. He felt trapped in her gaze.

How could he explain this? Ja’hon was Zeison Sha. He could not, could not start this with her, and leave her, potentially leave a child-

No, never. Even if he felt tied to her in some way, Ja’hon would not leave that final string.

“I cannot do this, Mylene.”

Her brow scrunched in confusion.

“Do what?”

“Anything that might leave a child behind.”

Mylene reared back.

“What?”

“I-”

“You have a very inflated sense of yourself, Ja’hon Kelt.”

“I only mean-”

“You think, after such a short amount of time, I would throw away my life-”

Ja’hon felt a flare of offense and irritation that, even as he felt it, he knew was illogical and unfair.

“-to produce a child with a wanderer.”

“I did not think it would be purposeful!”

“I am an Alchemist of Flesh! I would not accidentally produce a child from a tryst!”

Ja’hon looked down at his hands. It stung to hear her call something between them a tryst, also an irrational feeling. But he could not imagine any experience with Mylene being so unimportant as to call it a tryst.

Even this excruciating dressing-down would likely be an experience he looked back upon as a defining moment of his life.

“And, and! I have three years before I reach mastery! I will be the youngest to do so in three centuries! You think I will derail this accomplishment for a pregnancy?”

He tried not to squirm like a child. Mylene rarely asked rhetorical questions, especially when angered.

“I truly did not think about your position, or, ah, your abilities, as an Alchemist of Flesh, you are right to be offended, I am gravely sorry. I’ve just- Among the Zeison Sha, there have been-, problems, with children, and other Force-users, actively trying to produce offspring, and not allowing fathers to be part of their children’s lives.”

Ja’hon gathered courage, and looked up at Mylene.

“I didn’t think that would be the case, with you, or with your people, but. It is something I’ve been taught to always keep in mind, the possibility of children. I wouldn’t want to leave you, leave you alone, if that happened.”

As he spoke, Mylene’s shoulders dropped, but from her face Ja’hon knew she was still annoyed with him, even if she was no longer angry. Or as angry.

Mylene rolled her eyes and looked away, then worked her jaw.

“I am going to get up, and then I am going to go back to my rooms. In the morning, we will attempt to act as if this did not happen, though I will likely still be displeased with you."

“That’s fair.”

Mylene’s eyes flicked to him briefly, then she rose gracefully and left the garden.

Ja’hon sat there for a while longer, already regretting what he’d done. Or more, what he hadn’t done.

Chapter Text

The next few days were uncomfortable.

As she’d said, Mylene was displeased with him, and she did not hide her displeasure from others. When asked about it, Mylene said that Ja’hon knew the reason, and she did not welcome other people interfering.

When people asked Ja’hon, he just sighed deeply.

He sighed, and remembered Mylene’s face in the twilight, her hand on his cheek, her forehead against his.

Ja’hon continues to teach, and to train, and to learn.

He even continued to meet with Mylene for mid-meal, or late-meal at Master Tenault’s home. When Ja’hon visited the garden, the garden he’d begun to consider their’s, he found signs that she had been there, but Ja’hon never saw the alchemist herself.

While Ja’hon’s schedule did not change, the Sorcerers of Tund and their allies had come to a decision.

They would complete a great work, in Tund, with followers from all of the involved sects working together. There had been some discussion about whether they should gather quickly, or attempt to hide their movement. Master Tenault had been the one to finally put a stop to the bickering.

The Force-sects involved would send their people immediately, and the Sorcerers of Tund would claim a tome had been brought to them suggesting an ancient Force celebration they wanted to attempt to recreate.

Master Tenault had shared this information during another late-meal where Mylene and Ja’hon joined his family.

“Well, that is something the Temple has done before,” Yelena said while passing a plate of flat bread from Ja’hon to one of her older children.

Mylene snorted across the table, and gave Yelena a look. The older woman giggled. Master Tenault shook his head while cutting a piece of fried protein for their youngest child.

“Ah yes, is that not how that crater was made next to the river, the one we now call a harbor?”

Vesh and their oldest child, a youngling named Senaul, laughed, and it was as if Vesh’s data had been copied exactly onto Senaul. Ja’hon looked at Master Tenault, expecting a small amount of embarrassment at his family’s teasing. Instead the man looked warm, and proud, and amused at their antics.

Ja’hon suddenly missed his own father, his own family, so greatly his chest ached with it.

The Force-sensitives at the table all shifted to look at him. Ja’hon looked down at his own food, and berated himself silently while he tightened his shields.

Perhaps he had forgotten how alone he truly was before losing Mylene’s favor.

_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_

Ja’hon became a very good beast of burden as the many, many guests flood the temple complex.

He is slotted in with the others training like Mylene to be Alchemists of Flesh, and therefore unattached to the great work being planned.

There are only two things agreed upon right away, before all involved have even arrived on Tund.

First, they need to clear the pavilion of the great scrying stone. Second, they need to produce some ichor and means of the healing arts for the actual work.

Mylene was grouchy during their mid-meal the day after these two preparations were announced.

“Oh great and wise Alchemist Mylene, share your wisdom, your woe! Why are you behaving like my younger siblings when they must go back to school after a break?”

Mylene picked a seed out from her fruit and flicked it at him. Ja’hon let it hit his cheek, sure it would cheer her up.

It did.

“I need to begin working non-stop to go over all the possible outcomes, to body, mind and soul, from the previous scrying attempts, and I need to help others of my school produce our healing ichor. This is not hard, but it is time consuming. There is a reason production of the ichor is the first challenge we must meet on the path to becoming an alchemist.”

“So, it is a lesson in patience and detail.”

“Precisely.”

Ja’hon nodded and threw a nut in his mouth.

He stretched his still sore back.

“Still, Ja’hon, I would not trade with you!”

He gave Mylene a look, apprehension growing in his chest.

“Why?”

“You are helping clear the scrying stone, yes?”

“I assume so.”

“Do you know where the stone is?”

Ja’hon sighed.

“No.”

Mylene turned slightly and pointed. Up to the mountain overlooking the city. It must be at least a day’s hike to the first plateau.

Ja’hon slid his food to one side and gently placed his face down on the table. Mylene patted his head.

“There, there, great master. You can use your Jedi tricks to get you up there and back, can’t you?-” (Ja’hon groaned, but Mylene kept speaking) “- and I imagine others will need to simply camp up there, but you will be able to come back each night to rest. And bring up the many supplies I am sure will be necessary each day!”

Ja’hon groaned again. Mylene stopped patting his head, and began to play with his hair.

“Truly, Ja’hon, your abilities and what you have taught your students will likely make this whole process much more efficient.”

He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the feel of her fingers in his hair, and her attention through the Force.

She was, of course, right. Clearing the area around the scrying stone was exhausting, and many of his students were put to the task, so, in turn, he was tasked with directing their efforts. 

Many of his students spent a few days at a time camping at a clearing near the scrying stone, which will become the base of operations for the great work. Ja’hon instead went back to his bed in the administration building each night, retreating into the quiet of his room, or the little garden, to clear his mind of the constant noise of others, the growing tension as more and more Force-sensitive people rush to Tund.

The time Ja’hon once spent with Mylene, with Master Tenault and his family, disappears. But he knew they were tired just like him. Everyone, it seemed, was tired.

Master Tenault and the other Temple leaders called for one large push over a ten-day to completely clear the stone and the staging area, and to prepare all options for healing resources, as well as food and water for the entirety of the work, then a two-day rest. Ja’hon slept on-site with his students the entire time. Each night he was far too exhausted to fly down the mountain safely.

For three days, right in the middle of the rush to complete their work, Mylene was also at the staging area. She worked through the night preparing vats of ichor around the scrying stone, and discussing where the alchemists can and cannot walk during the work if something happens to one of the many scryers. She directed Ja’hon to pull the earth from three spots, creating small pits, and then directed that each be filled with other supplies, like meal and hydration packs, quick bacta gel wraps and even stabilized medicines that could be helpful in case of an injury to the brain or nervous system. 

Mylene shared his tent those three nights. They collapsed on their separate sleeping mats each night, and woke up tucked against each other. Mylene did not say a thing, did not look at J’ahon when she slid from his arms each morning. 

It left something aching inside Ja’hon. He wanted there to be more when they would lay down together at night, for them to touch, and kiss, and laugh and taste and join their bodies. He wanted Mylene to not look at him when she rose in the morning, not because it was strange, but because there was no doubt they would find each other that night.

It had been nearly four months since they nearly kissed, and he’d dreamed of her each night, even when Ja’hon believed himself too tired for dreams. Even during the three nights she laid next to him.

Especially during the three nights she laid next to him.

After she left, he poured his frustrations into the work. Ja’hon and his group finished setting up the last of tents for those acting in support during the great work, and Ja’hon flew down the mountain. He was desperate for sleep in a real bed and a proper shower.

Instead of returning to his room though, he went to the garden. Ja’hon meant to meditate, but instead he fell asleep in the soft grass. 

He woke to delicate fingers in his hair.

Mylene.

Ja’hon opened his eyes and turned toward the warmth of Mylene laying next to him. She watched her own fingers play with his hair and did not look down at his face.

He studied her freely.

The small, lush pout of her mouth. The warm red of her skin. The delicate point of her chin. Her wide ochre-brown eyes. The slope of her shoulders, the just of her collar bones. Her sharp, high cheekbones. The slight point at the tip of her ears.

Even her ears he found lovely.

How could he leave here without her knowing?

“I do not think I could find a creature more fierce and regal than you in the whole of the galaxy.”

A smile crept across Mylen’s face but she continued to play with his hair.

“I doubt there is anyone as clever, and wise, and cutting (here she huffed a small laugh) or, or as beautiful as you.”

Mylene met his gaze then. Ja’hon was surprised by what he saw on Mylene’s face, what he felt in the Force. She was unsure, of herself more than him. It broke Ja’hon. This woman should never doubt herself.

Ja’hon took down his farriers and more or less pushed all of his feelings out for Mylene to feel. Wonder, joy, fascination, peacefulness, camaraderie, respect and desire all flowed from him.

Mylene took a deep breath, like it was a heady thing. 

It was for Ja’hon.

“Have I…”

Her hand moved from his hair, down his cheek, his neck, to rest on his chest. The touch of her skin sent shock waves through Ja’hon.

“Ask, Ja’hon.”

He licked his lips nervously, and Mylene's eyes tracked his tongue.

“Can I… is it too late? To be with you? Did I, ruin this?”

Mylene leaned down over Ja’hon, and the warmth of her covered him.

“No, you did not.”

Ja’hon pushed up and met Mylene’s mouth with his own.