Many thanks to Rilla and Buttercup for the wonderful beta help!

Severing the Past
WendyNat

Chapter 8
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N'oenar woke with a cry, breath coming fast and hard, the sensation of falling still lingering from his dream.

"He's awake! How did you-" Kerenne? What was she-

"I didn't do anything."

N'oenar blinked, looking up. Kerenne and Ayliana stood beside the bed, Kerenne's eyes wide as she stared at him. "What-"

"We couldn't wake you," Ayliana said in a low voice. "Kerenne heard you and came to get me-"

"I tried to wake you, but you didn't…" Kerenne's voice was low. Uneasy.

"It's not the first time, Kerenne." Ayliana sat down on the edge of his bed. "He did this when I tried to wake him at Lysira's, when the troopers were searching-" She didn't even blink when Kerenne interrupted her again.

"Does he do this often?"

Now fully awake, he found that being talked about in the third person rather irritated him. "I'm right here."

Ayliana glanced at him, amusement flickering across her face before she turned back to Kerenne. "No, not often. Well, I don't think he does it often-"

"Still. Here." He struggled to sit up, but was pinned down by the tight tuck of the bedcovers on one side, and Ayliana's weight holding them down on the other side. Irritably, he yanked the blanket out from under Ayliana - earning him a low chuckle - and sat up. "Did I say something? What was I saying?"

"Nothing," Ayliana said quickly, shooting him a meaningful look that he was unable to decipher. "It was a little hard to understand. Just mumbling."

"Except for that yell-"

"Yeah, except for that."

"Yell?" N'oenar ran a hand through his hair, and he shifted uneasily when he noticed Kerenne's eyes on him. "When did-"

"When you woke, just now."

Kerenne nodded. "I was passing by to tell Zehrid it's his shift, and heard you mumbling and… well, it sounded like you ought to wake up. But you couldn't - it was strange."

"Then she got me. That was just a minute or two ago." Ayliana studied him closely, and he found himself fidgeting under her tight regard. And yet, her eyes were so steady, so wise, that suddenly he had the urge to ask her about the dreams. Most of them, at least.

"Well, I'm awake now. It was… it was just a nightmare." He certainly wasn't going to speak about it more specifically in front of Kerenne.

Kerenne, looking a bit troubled, glanced at Ayliana. There seemed to be some silent communication that passed between the two, and then Kerenne cleared her throat. "Well, I'm glad everything's all right. I'll, ah, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Right. Thanks, Kerenne." He smiled. "I appreciate you checking on me, even if it wasn't anything serious."

She nodded, glanced at Ayliana again, and then left the room. Ayliana stared after her for a moment before turning back to him.

"If you're sure you're-" she began, when he cut her off. He needed to ask the question, even if he didn't want to hear the answer.

"Ayliana?"

"Yes?"

"When you… when you asked me about prophetic dreams, at Lysira's, did you… did you hear something? Something more than mumbling?"

Ayliana sat slowly. "Something. Yes."

"What?"

"It- well, it sounded like you were repeating that old woman, the one on the street. And then you said Master… I don't know, N'oenar. I can't remember. It just seemed to be something more than a normal dream." She shot him a piercing look. "Like the one tonight."

"You really couldn't wake me?"

She shook her head.

"Do you think-" He swallowed, not entirely certain what answer he wanted to hear. "Do you think they are? Prophetic, I mean. Force dreams."

"I'd know better, if you'd tell me more."

He rose, and walked to the small mirror on one side of the cabin. Propping himself against the wall with one arm, he studied his reflection in the dim light. There was a hollowed look around his eyes that hadn't been there before, and he wondered if Force dreams could contribute to that. Did the body truly sleep, when the Force had possession of the mind?

"N'oenar?"

Jumping slightly, he turned away from the mirror and realized she was still awaiting an answer. "I… what do you know of Vaapad, Ayliana?"

She frowned, but seemed to guess that he wasn't asking out of flippancy. "Master Windu's lightsaber technique? I don't know much more than that, other than he was the only one who'd ever mastered it. He might have been the one who developed it, but I'm not certain." She shrugged slightly and looked away. "I was never much of a scholar, really."

He nodded; it was much the same as he knew. He had hoped that she might know more, but hadn't expected her to. Ancient Roon would help him learn, Master Dannew had said. "He told me. Master Dannew did, in my dream. He reminded me of Roon, and said I had things to learn there. Knowledge is precious," he repeated, his gaze on the wall but not seeing it. His mind's eye was filled with the image of that roiling darkness that flooded the Council chamber in his dream. "Shroud the light…" Turning to Ayliana, he shrugged. "A lot of the same things the old woman said."

"Nothing more clear?"

He shook his head. "And I've seen… visions. In my dreams."

"Of what?"

In broken sentences, he told her of the visions he'd had. The Dark Jedi. The duel between Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker. The black-robed figure that knelt beside a burnt and deformed body. The gentle woman who had so tenderly pushed the hair back from her beloved son's face. Master Dannew's warnings of the great darkness.

But he didn't tell her of his other visions – the visions of Kerenne. There was only one logical explanation for their message, but he didn't feel that that explanation was valid. And he certainly didn't expect Ayliana would believe him on that – she already mistrusted Kerenne. Hoping to forestall any perceptive observations about something missing from his recital, he quickly said, "Is it real? Or just an embodiment of my own conscience?"

She looked up at him, chewing her lip thoughtfully. "Is what real?"

"Master Dannew… is he really there? Some part of him, at least?" He wanted, very much, for Ayliana to tell him that it was real, that there was still a connection between him and his Master.

Ayliana hesitated. "I'm… I'm not sure, N'oenar. This is… well, it's not something I studied."

He nodded, accepting that. The Living Force didn't concern itself with such things – images of future events had no bearing on the here and now, after all. And Ayliana's Master had been a strong proponent of the Living Force.

Suddenly, he wished he'd had time to view the archives, to research these types of things. He's had only a cursory introduction to Force dreaming, it being a subject his Master insisted was better viewed with a mature mind and greater wisdom, because the future was so easily misinterpreted.

"A path to the dark side, it can become.

"Maybe the Force is trying to tell you something…" Her voice trailed off.

"Maybe." N'oenar sighed and, reaching into his trouser pocket, fingered the Padawan braid. Severed. So many links, severed; so many lives, cut short. With a frown, he muttered, "If it is the Force, I wish it would be a little more clear about what it wants to say."

Ayliana laughed, though he hadn't meant it as a joke. After a few moments, he joined her. "It's just… I'm sorry, N'oenar, but it's kind of a ridiculous situation, isn't it? Here we are, being illegally transported off-planet by a criminal group-"

"Talking about dreams of the Force-"

"And complaining because they aren't clear enough!"

N'oenar grinned along with Ayliana. "It is pretty ridiculous, isn't it?" As she smiled back, he felt his heart ease, the dream images loosening their hold over his mind.

"It is." She stood. "Now, you'd better sleep. It's the middle of the night."

"Thanks, Ayliana."

She smiled at him and, with a small wave, left the room. He moved back to his bed and settled onto it, staring at the ceiling, his heart lighter than it had been in many days.

Sighing, he closed his eyes but just dozed off and on, subconsciously unwilling to slip into a deeper sleep; unwilling to slip into dream. When the chronometer merrily blinked at him that it was, indeed, morning – on Coruscant the sun would just be rising – he finally stood and pulled on a shirt. He could hear snoring and wondered if it was Kylia again, but as he left his room he determined that it was, in fact, Zehrid making the odd gargling/gasping noise. Kerenne must have taken his shift for some reason. Shaking his head, he made his way to the bridge. Kerenne was, as he'd expected, sitting in the pilot's seat.

"Another long night?"

She jumped slightly and turned, smiling when she saw who stood in the doorway. "Come on in, sorry about that. I thought I was the only one awake right now."

"Why isn't Zehrid-"

"I couldn't sleep, so I took pity on him and told him to go back to bed about an hour ago. I can nap tomorrow if I need to - well, later today, I guess I should say." She glanced at the viewscreen and smiled. "I kind of like the night shifts. I'm not used to much sleep, and it's peaceful."

"Oh. If you'd rather be alone-"

"Don't be ridiculous; I could use some company. Sit down." She gestured to the second pilot's seat and he slid into it. She studied him silently, and just when he was beginning to feel uncomfortable from the quiet gaze, she spoke. "What woke you so early? You didn't have more dreams, did you?"

His dreams were something he preferred to forget, particularly the ones he'd had lately that included the woman beside him. Hoping to redirect the conversation, he summoned a grin. "No. I heard Zehrid snoring."

It was the truth, after all.

She laughed, shaking her head. "Yeah, it gets bad when he's really tired. He was up half the night, battling Kylia in holochess. That girl's got a real gift."

"Yeah, she sure does." Kylia had defeated him rather soundly on the few times he'd played her. He wasn't certain which "She even beat Ayliana."

Kerenne made a face when he said his fellow Padawan's name, and he tilted his head. Fatigue, he would later assume, drove him to ask, "What exactly was the issue with you two, anyway?"

"Issue?" Kerenne avoided his gaze and he sighed.

"It might be kind of good-natured now, but when we left Coruscant, that morning… what happened? You all must've been fighting or someth-"

"We weren't fighting." Kerenne sat back, staring out of the viewscreen at the stars. "Not exactly."

"Not exactly."

"You really want to know?"

"I think so."

"It was about you." Kerenne looked down at the control panel, running a finger along the smooth-edged buttons. "And Toryndo. Among other things."

Toryndo. The memory still stung. It had been just days… he wrenched his mind away from the crisp image of blue light falling from lifeless fingers. Frowning, he stared at the viewscreen, replacing the glow of blue in his mind's eye with the glow of white from the stars outside of the ship. It was a calming sight.

Feeling more centered, he replayed Kerenne's words in his mind, then tilted his head in curiosity. "About me?"

She shrugged. "I said some things I probably shouldn't have."

"Probably?"

"Maybe I should… apologize." The reluctance with which she said that word was indescribable. With a sigh, she sat back and looked at him. "What do you think?"

He stared back at her, reminded of his conversation with Ayliana in the dark of night. This was an insanely impossible scene. N'oenar Rulon, Padawan to a Master Historian, sheltered Jedi Apprentice, wasn't supposed to be sitting next to a woman who killed men without a second thought, a woman who illegally transported people off-planet… and he was certainly not supposed to be asked for advice by said woman.

The galaxy had gone mad.

"I…" He shook his head, wondering what had made him ask to begin with. "Well. If I knew what you said, I'd know better whether you ought to apologize."

"I just- never mind. Doesn't matter." Kerenne cleared her throat and hit a few buttons on the control panel, ostensibly reading the status on their location. "Water under the bridge, and all of that."

"All right. If you say so." N'oenar looked out at the stars and then back to Kerenne, raising an eyebrow when he saw that she was flushed slightly. What could make her flush? "It must've been something good, though," he commented lightly, curious about her reaction.

"You might say that." She continued to avoid his gaze and he settled back, deciding that it might just be best for him not to know.

"Well. Since I'm not all that well-traveled, maybe you can tell me what Jabiim is like."

Seemingly relieved at the change of subject, she began to speak, telling him of the constant rains, the people, the security surrounding space traffic. He watched her as she spoke, enthralled by her enthusiasm, her obvious love of her home planet. And, as sudden as a star's implosion, it hit him that he would likely never return to Coruscant; he would never again see his home planet.

She continued to speak, her excitement to return to Jabiim apparent, and he couldn't help but feel a very un-Jedi-like envy.

---

Later that day, while everyone else was busy with other tasks (or, in Kerenne's case, sleeping), N'oenar took Zehrid up on his offer of a game of holochess. It didn't go well for N'oenar.

"It's like blasting mynocks in a cave," Zehrid said with a chuckle as he completed his move. N'oenar frowned at the holochess table, hoping to find some way out of the situation he was in. There were only a few moves available to him and, no matter which he took, he would be led down the same path. "A cave with no outlet."

"It looks like I'm cornered."

"That you are!" Zehrid winked at him. "Don't feel bad. Even Ayliana has problems beating me every game. She gets me often enough, of course."

N'oenar grinned. Ayliana had always been a formidable holochess player. "She's pretty good. So is Kylia."

"Kerenne's not the best, but I feel like I have to let her win sometimes, at least. You know how it is, with sisters."

"No, I don't, really."

"What about Ayliana? She's basically like a sister, isn't she?"

"Oh. I suppose so. I wouldn't really know."

Zehrid frowned, obviously confused. N'oenar shrugged slightly, looking at the holochess table. It was hopeless. He made a move, then sat back with a sigh. "No family, no attachment, you know how it is with Jedi."

"Do you remember your family at all?" Zehrid made a show of studying the holochess board, but he was oddly still. There was such an air of waiting that N'oenar guessed there was more to the question than simply curiosity about his family life.

"Well… I was an only child when I was born. Or so the records said. My mother worked at one of the medical centers, so they identified me early. I was very young when I came to the Jedi Temple. Younger than most." N'oenar shrugged apologetically. "I couldn't even talk yet when they took me in. I only remember a few images, feelings, that kind of thing."

Zehrid's eyes shifted from the board to N'oenar's face. "But others are usually older, so they probably remember more?"

N'oenar nodded slowly. "Probably."

The other man seemed satisfied with that, and cheerfully suggested another game. N'oenar agreed, but couldn't shake the strange feeling that came over him when Zehrid occasionally cast considering looks in his direction, when he thought N'oenar wasn't watching.

---

Hours later, N'oenar lay in his cabin, deep in sleep. He murmured, though no one heard, as he slipped once more from innocuous dream into something more.

Images flowed, scenes coming fast and furious, distant memories entangled with present and future events… or events purely of his own imagination.

Two infants lay side by side on a soft white cloth. One was awake, clear brown eyes staring at the other. His Master's voice came to him as he floated, as the image of the children faded.

"The blood of the Chosen One will run true in time."

A Dark Jedi stood before him, saber glowing deepest red as it slashed through the air beside his head. He ducked and spun under the blade, pulling his own saber out just in time to deflect the other man's next blow. Defense was his only thought at first, but as the other fighter grew more furious, he began to go on the offensive, putting every trick and technique he had learned into play. His opponent laughed, a derisive sound, and that spark of fear flared into anger. N'oenar bared his teeth and struck out, driving his opponent back, and he pressed his advantage, blade moving faster and faster. With a quick feint, he encouraged the Dark Jedi to open his defenses and with a growl, he cut the lightsaber handle in two. His opponent fell, remnants of the saber spinning out of his grasp, and N'oenar laughed, standing over him, his own blue saber shining at the man's throat. Then the saber in his hand disappeared, the scene faded into darkness, and he heard Master Yoda's voice.

"Hard to see, the dark side is."

A horrific scream startled him, and he looked down into a black room, medical droids filling its dark walls. Anakin Skywalker, disfigured and badly burned, twisted and writhed on the hard table while droids attached new limbs; screamed as they connected the new arms and legs to his nervous system. N'oenar winced, trying to look away, but found that he couldn't. Thankfully, the vision faded, but the sound did not; the screaming continued until it was one long roar, a wordless howl of agony, and suddenly he heard another sound rise above the scream. It was Master Obi-Wan, and he couldn't say which voice held the most pain as Obi-Wan's words tore through his mind.

"I have failed you, Anakin. I have failed you."

The pain-soaked roar continued as other images flew past. A beautiful blue-skinned Twi'lek walked through heavy alien foliage, the stalks and flowers enormous and colorful. It was like nothing he had seen before. Then she paused and looked around, but she didn't see behind her. She didn't see her own army attack. Dozens of blaster bolts knocked her to the green-covered ground.

Ki-Adi Mundi stopped on a bridge, snow falling fat and beautiful around him, and turned. Clone troopers that had followed him loyally for years planted their feet, aimed their weapons, and pulled the triggers.

And then he saw the interior of the Galactic Senate chamber. The roar finally ended, its pain still echoing in the wide chamber as he gazed at the wreckage. Dozens of senatorial pods were smashed onto the floor, bent and broken… and as his eyes moved upwards, he saw something that made his throat close in terror. The Emperor, the former Chancellor of the Republic, was perched in a pod high above, throwing Force lightning -
Sith lightning – at a small robed figure. Master Yoda, it was Master Yoda… the venerable Jedi caught the lightning with his hands, his saber falling to the ground far below, and with a look of pure determination, pushed the bolts of blue lightning back towards the Emperor. Then Master Yoda turned his head, closed his eyes… it was too strong, he couldn't keep… with a loud crack, they were both blasted backwards.

Master Yoda scrabbled at the edge of the smoothly curved pod, his nails scraping with an eerie whine on the metal as he slowly slid. The small green body tumbled down, hitting one pod far below with a sickening thud, then landing hard on the floor. N'oenar opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

"Failed, I have."

Hide. Live.

He woke with a gasp, his eyes snapping open and staying wide; he was unwilling to close them again, unwilling to face those images once more. So many had died, betrayed by those they trusted. So many. Even Master Yoda… even Master Yoda had fallen. Had failed.

The Jedi Order was truly dead.

With a low sob, he turned over, and as he did so his eyes were caught by the glowing face of the chronometer sitting on the small platform beside his bed. The numbers seemed to have some sort of significance, and as the dream images slowly dulled in his mind, he frowned, thinking.

Then, it struck him. The date…. When the sun rose over Coruscant, it would be his seventeenth birthday.

He felt a wild urge to laugh.
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