Jedi Praxeum, Or’ena Mountain Range
Kiast, Kiast System, Outer Rim Territories
Winter, 35 ABY; 1108 Hours, Local Time
Ozosi Vym followed her mentor along a path leading deeper into the mountains, the borrowed all-temperature cloak wrapped tightly around the Togruta. The Huntress knew the path they were taking like the back of her hand; it was one the two walked on a weekly basis, making their way toward the Praxeum.
There was a landing platform within the training facility itself, but her mentor always insisted on walking the path up the mountain itself, taking the steps that had been hewed from the natural rock formations.
“You won’t always walk into a fight fresh from a shower, Ozosi. Our enemy will not give you quarter or a moment to catch your breath. Learning of lightsaber combat whilst already winded will improve your overall performance.”
Celevon Edraven Erinos was skilled in the ways of the Force, having walked all paths in his journey within the Brotherhood. First as a Dark Jedi, aligned with the Obelisk Order, then a Gray Jedi and, finally, a Jedi. Some of the lessons had involved the use of his own memories, displayed from within the mind of the Togruta.
Despite all of this, her mentor had put down his lightsaber several years earlier. The holorecordings she had witnessed from the old Combat Center records revealed Celevon had been highly skilled in Soresu and Vaapad. Ozosi was unaware if he had purposely forgotten or chose not to remember those lessons, but the half-Echani had opted for her to learn sequences or katas that taught the core concepts of all lightsaber forms.
Indeed, the only time she had seen his lightsaber was for ceremonial purposes or sparring sessions outside of his home. Celevon wearing Lotus Jedi Armor with the lightsaber hanging from his belt — a crossguard hilt, with a cracked green crystal — had been a confusing sight when he woke her up earlier.
Ozosi had seen the holorecordings and knew, without a doubt, that this was not his original lightsaber. The first had appeared to strongly resemble the weapon carried by Anakin Skywalker during the Clone Wars. The second, a reproduction of Darth Bane’s weapon with a piece of bone near the curvature, was carried by Bellatrix Sa’ya, his daughter’s personal guard. The first time she had noticed this, Ozosi had asked during a mental training session.
The first lightsaber had been destroyed in the Tenth Great Jedi War, as it had been on his mentor’s belt when the nuclear bomb had been dropped on Menat Ombo. The one he carried had been built during his self-imposed exile, using a crystal from ‘someone close’. It had been a shock to learn that, before becoming a Knight himself, Celevon had been forced to kill his best friend, due to the fact the man was a Jedi. The crystal had come from Jacen’s lightsaber, which had been damaged in the duel.
Jacen’s death with Sashar watching through a holoprojection had earned the half-Echani the rank of Dark Jedi Knight.
The weapon itself was a reminder of the choices the Onderonian had made.
She shivered, pulling the borrowed cloak tighter around her shoulders. The Togruta hoped she would never have a similar falling out with her adopted brother.
Why are we here now, Master? We don’t usually break pattern… we’re expected in two days time. Ozosi pushed the thought toward her mentor, still not accustomed to telepathic conversations.
Without breaking stride or giving an indication that he was startled, Celevon replied smoothly. He had probably been expecting the question. I would like to test your skill for myself in a controlled environment… Don’t worry, Zos. My lightsaber will be set for sparring.
The last generated a roll of the Huntress’ crystalline eyes. The first time Celevon offered to help with a live partner, Ozosi had panicked and worried about either of them removing limbs. Then glared when her mentor started laughing. It had been a running joke ever since.
So she had been daydreaming during the lesson on ‘lightsaber safety settings’. The teacher had a dull, droning voice that would put most to sleep. It was either daydreaming or catching up on sleep before the next training session; remaining awake meant you passed the class, rather than being forced to repeat it and endure the instructor’s voice yet again.
The pair of them walked by the younglings’ session with training lightsabers, their faces covered to ensure they would use the Force rather than their physical senses. The Onderonian gave a small bow of his head to the instructor, who returned it and gestured for them to enter the Praxeum.
“I’m always amazed with the amount of Force energy that flows through this place,” Ozosi spoke up as they walked into the main training facility. Specifically, the area where advanced lightsaber training took place, away from the Younglings. She took off the cloak and laid it over a bench, revealing the brown leather corset over a burgundy blouse. Black trousers and long brown leather knee-high boots completed her choice of daily wear.
Celevon’s lips twitched as though he were trying to not smile. Thankfully, Ozosi did not see this as she checked to make sure her boots were tightly laced.
“So, Master… Am I attacking or defending this time?”
“Neither.”
Crystalline eyes blinked slowly. Confusion was clear as she turned to look at Celevon. “What? Then why are we—”
Around them, the Councilors of Urr seemed to appear from nothing. Turel, the former Consul, had a visible smile beneath his beard, green eyes dancing as realization crossed the face of the Togruta. “The power you sensed, Ozosi Vym, was a maintained illusion. The weekly sessions were so that we could get an idea of your progression. Celevon, it’s your show.”
“Thank you,” the half-Echani smiled, pulling his lightsaber from his belt as the Council ignited theirs in a rainbow of colors, the blades held pointed toward the ceiling. “Kneel.”
“Wha—”
Relax, Zos. I promise nothing bad will happen.
Despite her confusion and wariness, Ozosi trusted Celevon. She dropped to a knee, one leg propped up. She stiffened as the weapon sprang to life with a snap, the unstable emerald blade crackling and humming.
Relax. And pay attention, Ozosi. This is important.
Crystalline eyes flicked up to meet mercurial, pausing as she realized, once again, that the light cast from the weapon made his eyes to appear a silver-green, like his daughter’s.
“Ozosi Vym… when I first met you, you knew very little of the ways of the Force. You bore a natural talent for the more spiritual aspects, but your view on the organizations that practiced this power were… skewed. Now, before me, I see a young woman who has become powerful in her own right. You’ve grown through these trials, changed in ways that have surprised even you.” Celevon extended a hand, a glimmer of silver seeming to blur across the room before it smacked into the gloved cybernetic. The emerald blade hummed, hovering over each shoulder. “In following the traditions of this Clan, I name you, Ozosi Vym, a Knight of Odan-Urr.”
The Togruta’s eyes were wide with shock. It only grew as she watched her Master extend his left hand, a gleaming lightsaber hilt within. It took Ozosi a moment to realize that Celevon was offering it to her, pommel first.
As elegant fingers curled around the hilt, Celevon smiled. “Arise, Knight, and join our ranks as a sister of battle.” He nodded down to the lightsaber as he released it.
The shock seemed to leave her system as Ozosi smiled, rising to her feet, the hilt aloft as she flipped the thumb-switch.
A cyan blade erupted from the emitter with a snap-hiss, the sound joining the others as the weapon was activated for the first time by its new master.