Pain, nothing but sheer pain. His bones were splintered, organs were ruptured, body locked into bursts of convulsions all the while drowning in a pool of his own blood.

Life was fading.

As he lie in the crater of crumbled and cracked durocrete, he knew that fate had finally caught up to him, sins revisited, justice served, that harsh smile Karma was so renowned for, proudly displaying it's pearly whites. It was in that instant he took his last breath and exhaled in a gurgle of blood laden saliva.

Death.

Thirty floors above the gruesome demise, another stood, one filled with life, one who felt little, neither vindication nor satisfaction. Not even a thousand deaths could have quenched his blood lust. It was a pity how fragile the body actually was, its frailty was disconcerting. It had such a miniscule tolerance for pain or even trauma. He felt cheated.

"You son of a bitch!" he cried out to the fallen below.

Falling to his knees a broken man, he sobbed uncontrollably. He could feel the overwhelming energy overtake him. Surrounded by shattered glass and spattered blood, he released several agonizing screams, all of which would curdle the blood in any sane person's veins. His was on fire, immolating his soul in a cascade of flares and pulsating heat waves. Barely able to form words amongst his screams he called out to him again, called to his resting place in the darkest depths of whatever hell he was in now.

"Burn you son of a bitch, burn until you can longer bare the multitude of the suffering you have caused, burn until you plead to have the flesh ripped from your body because your bones have ignited into an eternal blaze of agony and despair, you BURN in that dark hole where you'll never hurt anyone ever again..."

Rage surged through him.

"You won't be alone for long, the others will be joining you soon..."

Thirty Stories Below.

A crowd of bystanders had huddled around the body that lay implanted in the sidewalk and as such it would only be a matter of time before the authorities knew about the incident and would be crawling all over the place. That matter of time turned out to be four minutes, not bad being as though normal response time to an incident like this was about twelve minutes on Eriadu. They went through the normal procedures, searching the building for clues, witnesses and undoubtedly a second party. Unfortunately for them, they found only an empty crime scene. If there had been a second individual, as it was apparent that there had been given the condition of the apartment, they had fled the scene.

...The Dream Ends

He awoke stricken by panic and drenched in sweat. Frantically looking around his room at the temple for something, anything that would remind him the nightmare was over.

Eventually as his heart rate decreased, he fell back into a prostrate position and began to relax.

"Damn these dreams..." he mumbled to himself.

Ever since they had returned from their mission to the force devastated cavern, Marek had been plagued by dreams, most of which were beginning to involve him less and less. This one in particular seemed to have very little to do with him if anything at all, being as though he didn't recall ever seeing himself in the dream. Matter of fact, the only thing he did recognize was the city itself; he'd had many a misadventure in its expanse.

However it was extremely late and he wasn't in the mood to analyze the events of this latest vision, he desperately needed sleep and was determined to try and get some. Especially since Dolash had asked Zolar to meet him in the Common early the next morning to discuss the next phase of his training.

Gradually he found himself drifting back into a deep sleep, hoping that tomorrow would bring about a change in his current sleeping habits.

The Azguardian Jedi stood in the common grounds, night bringing cooler breezes and comfort as he weighed his concerns in his mind and leant his great mass on the hilt of his sword. Meditation served many purposes for a Jedi, and not all were mystical - in fact, some of their most valuable were just plain mundane. Anyone could stand still and think hard if they really wanted to, but the fact that so few actually do is something the Jedi learnt long ago.

Marek. Spirits. Oblox the Seer. Barris. Lavality. Ghost in Lavality. Trazu. Wounds in the Force. Coruscant. Possession. Anger - no, frustration - among the dead. Ilum. The caves.

Somehow, all of these things fit together. The Force had led him this far on clues and trails, but the next step he would have to work out from how much he knew.

The ghosts, Barris, and that which possessed Trazu all had to have come from somewhere. They were the dead - that's a start. They were also strong in the Force, that might have been important as well. Sites that were strong in the Force were showing weakness and stress - perhaps because of the ghosts? Or are the ghosts a symptom? No, in the caves, the ghost that had escaped and possessed Lavality escaped from a crack in the Force, it didn't make one. So the Ghosts are a side-effect of what was damaging the Force. But what could cause so much damage? The Sith? No, the darkside was present, but it was just as damaged.

All of these thoughts and questions flew about his head, a cacophy of voices that became muddled and confused. With a concerted mental effort he silenced them. This solves nothing, for now. More clues are needed - but where to look?

It was then that Marek arrived - Dolash sensed the troubled presence of his student. That didn't surprise him in the least, Marek had spoken little of his visions in the caves, and often when the Force imparts knowledge or wisdom it is both informative and terrible. As he began to think about his student, he realized that this could be a chance to serve two goals at once.

"Marek..." he said, still not breaking his meditational stance "I am glad that you have come. You have learnt much of the living Force in very little time - you have felt it's power and it's potential for good. Soon, perhaps sooner than I expect, you will also face a great test and witness it's capacity for destruction and corruption as well. But that lesson is still away, and we should be mindful of the present. Before you can be prepared to follow the great mysteries of the Force and do battle with those that would harm either the galaxy or the Force itself, you must take another step in your training and transcend the basics, taking control of the Force and developing the tools of a Jedi.

"This lesson may prove to serve two purposes. Tonight, I shall instruct you in the construction of a lightsaber. Millenia after it's original creation, it is still one of the greatest single weapons and tools in the hands of a skilled user the galaxy has ever seen. However, a lightsaber is also an extension of the self, a symbol of who you are and what you stand for - one made with parts you have not chosen and a crystal you have not discovered will function, sure enough, but you will not share with it that Force bond that comes with constructing one on you own."

Dolash brought forth a container of materials he had kept stashed to one side earlier, and said "We will take these to a workshop here in the temple, and I will explain just how a saber is crafted. Some call this style zero, making reference to the many styles of lightsaber combat, for without it you cannot master any other style - so take great care with my words and great concern with your work."

Marek was still a bit shaken from his nightmare as he entered the common to search for his master. He knew that Dolash would sense the tension he felt and at some point confront him about it. However, upon finding him, Dolash spoke of other matters.

"Marek..." he said, still not breaking his meditational stance "I am glad that you have come. You have learnt much of the living Force in very little time - you have felt it's power and it's potential for good. Soon, perhaps sooner than I expect, you will also face a great test and witness it's capacity for destruction and corruption as well. But that lesson is still away, and we should be mindful of the present. Before you can be prepared to follow the great mysteries of the Force and do battle with those that would harm either the galaxy or the Force itself, you must take another step in your training and transcend the basics, taking control of the Force and developing the tools of a Jedi.

"This lesson may prove to serve two purposes. Tonight, I shall instruct you in the construction of a lightsaber. Millenia after it's original creation, it is still one of the greatest single weapons and tools in the hands of a skilled user the galaxy has ever seen. However, a lightsaber is also an extension of the self, a symbol of who you are and what you stand for - one made with parts you have not chosen and a crystal you have not discovered will function, sure enough, but you will not share with it that Force bond that comes with constructing one on you own."

It was at this point that Dolash revealed the container of parts. Undoubtedly, it contained the workings of what would become the lifeline Marek would need whenever his knowledge of the force failed him, or if he met someone with a greater understanding then he.

"We will take these to a workshop here in the temple, and I will explain just how a saber is crafted. Some call this style zero, making reference to the many styles of lightsaber combat, for without it you cannot master any other style - so take great care with my words and great concern with your work."

Dolash without another word began to make his way to workshop with Marek in close pursuit. Zolar felt a sense of inferiority standing just behind the hulking master. Sure, he'd been learning new force techniques and he may have been the one to save Dolash from the cave-in, but he still felt as though he hadn't cracked the surface of the force potential he was capable of. His master seemed to be so in tuned with its flow, its energy radiated from him, a state that Marek was completely in awe of.

Of course, his admiration was only going to continue to increase, no doubt ten fold, during the saber training.

Marek's uneasiness was beginning to lessen as they neared their destination as were his thoughts of his nightmares. His mind seemed to be pushing them to the back of his head so that he could concentrate on the lesson set before him. He knew that this was only a temporary reprieve from the anxiety that would eventually attack him once he was settled back in his room.

The workshop was a simple place, containing simple yet functional tools and work-areas. Dolash heaved the componants on to the workbench, and gestured for his apprentice to sit.

"The lightsaber is a weapon, a tool, a symbol, a personal insignia, an heirloom, and a part of who you are. With it, you can overcome any challenge that wisdom and the Force cannot, you can become invincible to the crude fire of the simple blaster and you can vanquish twisted souls whose lightsabers are the manifestation of their own inner darkness. It marks you as a Jedi, which makes you both a friend and an enemy to many.

"The lightsaber is a key part of your destiny, and the destiny of every Jedi. Though at times it makes us much less than what we are, if we reach for it first and foremost, it is nevertheless vital, for sometimes there are problems that can only be solved through violence - that have been left to fester for too long and gone unresolved. There are only so many Jedi and there is so much galaxy, that you cannot hope to be in time to stop every villain before there is a need to strike him down. Moderation is the key to every facet of the Jedi, as it is here."

Dolash took out the tools and componants, and laid them all out on the table in front of them "There have been Jedi able to make a lightsaber out of scavenged junk, out of scraps carefully collected while in prisons, in swamps and jungles even. There have been Jedi who can assemble their blade with their eyes closed or construct a blad with two sides or strange shapes. To begin, however, we will focus with the classical, simple, one-blade style lightsaber..."

His hands began to move, and Dolash fell into the pattern of instruction, showing Marek how a saber was assembled, disassembled, what parts were critical, how they worked, and so forth. He explaind each part of the process, shorn free of any ritualistic symbolizm or ceremony - that being the matter for an individual to decide if they felt like bothering. All that mattered to teach, really, was how to do it.

As he moved, Dolash's mind began to drift, as he quietly remembered why he never carried a lightsaber.

He had a sword - one of fine craftsmanship from his homeworld, with an expensive cortosis weave that the Azguardian government had gone through considerable trouble to acquire. It could be used for lightsaber dueling without simply being cut in half, but it was no substitute for a lightsaber. The reason why he didn't make one himself was a little complicated, but it lead back to his master - the Jedi Master Cole Donovin.

Cole had taught Dolash with a stern yet respectful tone, but towards the end of his training Cole had become distant, seemingly taking less interest and time with his pupils, until quite suddenly he had up and left the Jedi academy, never to be seen again. No attempt to find him had succeeded, none had heard of him since.

Dolash remembered, because it was on the very day Cole was meant to teach him how to make his own lightsaber. Dolash had never held it against Cole, nor felt any form of betrayl, or having been cheated, or anything - Azguards rarely do, unless they suspect foul play or unfair treatment. It was Cole's choice to leave, and Cole took it. And yet... something had never sat well about his master's departure, so although Dolash had learnt how to make a lightsaber, he never produced one of his own - in the back of his mind, he was still waiting for Cole to return, and to teach him, as he had promised.

In a way, now that he was teaching another student, Dolash was forced to admit that his wait had been in vain - Cole was not returning. The Jedi sighed, and continued the lesson.

Marek watched the diligent hands of his master as he fumbled with the spare parts he had taken from the container.

"Master Dolash, if I may be so bold, why don't you carry a lightsaber?"

Zolar awaited his master’s response and secretly hoped he hadn't asked a too personal of a question. Dolash didn't seem to be offended by the remark at least from his initial reaction.

"If I'm out of place, forgive me, I didn't mean too..." Dolash raised one of his large hands, in protest to his apprentice’s apology, causing him to trail off. Marek wasn’t quite sure what he should do next, Dolash wasn’t speaking and the atmosphere of the workshop was becoming increasingly awkward.

He was amazed at how quickly things could shift.

Dolash eventually nodded, and said "No, no, you're right to be curious. I never built one because my Master... Cole Donovin... never returned to teach me. At the time, I had thought that if he had not yet chosen to train me lightsabre technique, then he must simply have felt I was not ready, and so I waited. As time wore on, and it has become apparent that he will not be returning, I had simply adapted to not needing a lightsabre.

"That is not to say I disdain them, or find them less useful - as I have said, the construction of a lightsabre is a very personal experience, unique to the individual's personality and feelings. You may be assembling one now, but you are not making your sabre yet. You may even wield the one you produce with these pre-made componants, but the thing that separates a Jedi from a person wielding a power-cell attatched to a sturdy handle-grip channeling into a piece of crystal and refocused through a lense into a blade of energy, is that the weapon is linked to the Jedi, a part of their force energy is in it and it flows just as an extension of the self."

Dolash realized he was speaking quite animatedly for someone who had never built one, and paused again to go through the motions of construction.

"Simply know, that I have not made one for myself yet because I can feel that the Force has not declared it is time for me to do so. When I feel it is the right time, I will - and you too should refrain from producing your own until you feel you have found the componants you want to use and a crystal whose Force-Energy flows well through you."

There was silence for a little longer, as the lesson ended.

"The process of how to assemble a lightsaber is fairly simple, so long as we don't get into the complicated laws of physics that allow each system to function. With a few basic principles of construction in mind, a Jedi can produce a lightsaber from seemingly innocuous componants. Keep that in mind, for if you are in a situation where you lack a sabre and yet need one, it may be entirely possible to fashion one." Dolash then laughed, and added "Assuming of course you have an unflawed force-sensitive shard of crystal of appropriate size and shape handy! But enough with that.

"Focus on this lesson, go through the motions in private meditation until you can feel the Force guiding your hands before you even move them. That is all for tonight, Marek. In the morning, we will prepare for another journey - no, no, I will tell you more about it tomorrow. For now, think upon what you have learnt, and rest well."

Marek relaxed his muscles and the joints in his fingers as he concentrated on the scattered parts before him. He'd had some trouble sleeping, which wasn't unusual and figured he'd might as well put into practice the lesson Dolash had given him just hours earlier on the construction of a lightsaber. Reaching out through the force he focused his energies on the task he placed before himself.

Over the span of about forty-five minutes he had finished off what could be observed as the hilt of a lightsaber, of course it wasn't going to be humming to life any time soon, so it shouldn't have a problem with adapting to life as a paper-weight. It was also missing a very crucial element, it offered no real connection to Marek, it felt like a hunk of metal rather than an extension of himself. Dolash had warned him about it and in most cases it's probably something one would have to experience in order to fully understand.

Zolars understanding of the force grew with every passing day, but he still felt very fresh to the whole idea of being a Jedi. So many things he still didn't know and would have to learn, so much time that awaited to be invested in practicing a lifestyle that would undoubtedly, prematurely end his life. He wondered whether the Jedi that had come before him had ever questioned their own decision to live this particular lifestyle, had any of them ever questioned the motives of the order. Did any of them regret it?

He then began to think about what Dolash had told him of his own master.

I never built one because my Master... Cole Donovin... never returned to teach me. At the time, I had thought that if he had not yet chosen to train me lightsabre technique, then he must simply have felt I was not ready, and so I waited. As time wore on, and it has become apparent that he will not be returning, I had simply adapted to not needing a lightsabre.

He questioned if Dolash would ever decide to leave him, then almost immediately, answering himself. No, Dolash didn't strike him as the type to easily give-up or runaway, he was one of those that was in it for the long-hall.

Speaking of Dolash he was going to be meeting up with him in a few hours and he should probably try to catch some sleep before they set out on their next assignment. Marek picked up his flashy looking paperweight and headed back to his room.

Dolash didn't sleep - well, not often. It had once occured to him that if you could somehow stay awake for a whole night, it'd be like making days a third longer. He admitted the logic was flawed, but it was amusing nonetheless. right now, he was planning for his next encounter with someone who hadn't slept in at least a few decades.

"According to these records, not much of note has happened on Felucia since the battle." said Dolash, sifting through datapads. "It's entirely possible the battlefields are undisturbed. Why were you even fighting there?"

Barris shrugged "It had made so much sense at the time. The Seperatists were retreating, so we simply confronted them wherever they ran." She paused "You're sure there's nothing on my padawan Zonder? Not even a confirmation of his death?"

Dolash merely shook his head "I'm sorry, Barris. I've looked everywhere. He isn't on any of the lists of Jedi killed - he isn't even on record any more. Are you sure you have the name right?"

An icy stare quickly turned Dolash from this line of questioning "Fair enough... so this Aayla Secura died on Felucia?"

Barris nodded stiffly in response. "As did several others. It feels so long ago, I can't remember... just who."

Dolash stretched his arms and yawned as he went through the situation in his mind. After the clues they'd discovered in the cave, it had become clear that they'd reached a keystone in the mystery - they now knew that something was damaging the Force. To find out what, though, Dolash had no idea. There were no obvious clues or indications, no hints dropped by the Force, so for the time being Dolash decided it would be best to instead seek out the sites of passing of other Jedi, in the hopes of finding their spirits. Perhaps more solutions could be found this way?

Felucia was a jungle world, and hell. The plant-life was designed for a much larger type of life-form, meaning that humanoids felt like ants in a garden. The air was thick with spores and microbes infested the land and water, meaning even a tiny cut could become lethally infected. Why the Republic and the Separatists had felt it worth so many lives seemed irrelevant now, what really mattered was that on that world several Jedi commanders were executed as part of Order 66, including Barris herself. The possibility of there being more clues there was fairly good.

"So we've got enough crystals?" said Dolash.

Once again, Barris nodded with a note of stiffness "Yes... although they must be handled with great care. I understand the need, but Ilum's temple was meant as a sacred place and the removal of crystals like this is a little... distasteful."

"If we had any other option, I'd exercise it, but so far we only know for certain that these ones work. We'll have to take every precaution."

That reminded Dolash of his padawan - and to keep a careful eye on him. Felucia was not a place for the unprepared, to say the least. "Take every precaution we can think of... I need some sleep. We'll be leaving in a few hours, so we shall meet again then. Good night, Barris."

The ghost nodded back "Good night, Dolash. Sleep... well."

Never before have I felt guilty for being able to sleep, though Dolash, as he left the spirit to her solitude.

It seemed liked he had slept for days, but it had only been a few short hours. Even then, he was still up much earlier than he really needed to be. However, when Marek was up, he was up and there wasn't anything he could do to remedy it, that is anything short of a tranquilizer.

After some fumbling around with his clothing, he grabbed his "hilt" and headed out the door. He paced himself, as he traveled the distance from his room to the Common, Dolash wasn't suppose to be there for another hour or so, so there wasn't much of a rush.

His mind began to wander as to what the next mission would entail, and where it would lead them.

Dolash did not sleep peacefully.

As he rested, his mind was filled with images, new and yet somehow familiar. He saw the flash of blue streaks of light cutting through the air, the flame of explosions, could smell the deep, nauseating smell of death and decay. Fires raged, screams echoed, but it was all too fragmented for him to see.

The images and sensations rolled and shook around inside of him, but Dolash had been trained to resist being pushed around by the current of his subconscious. Bringing this will to bear, he steadied his mind. This was, of course, no normal dream.

The Force flowed through it, but once again, something was wrong. The Force's dreams were usually strong, clear, unmistakeable. When the Force wanted something, you at least knew where to start looking. This was chaos, not strong enough to form a clear dream.

Finally, the shards of a dream came together just long enough to create a clear image of a woman, a twi'lek. She was blue in hue, and cut through the thick, humid air of Felucia with two lightsabers in a deadly arc, slicing armored droids into smoking junk. Just as soon as it was there, it was gone.

Dolash hadn't noticed the cairn stone behind her. His second brain, however, had. This second personality quickly whispered in his ear A Cairn stone, a marker. We have a clue.

Dolash woke.

A stone like that could certainly serve as a landmark. At least now he knew the Force did want them to go to Felucia, but what was more worrying was how hard it had been for the vision to materialize. What was it that was causing the Force to weaken? They had to go to Felucia to find out.

In the calm of morning, Dolash gathered the few possessions he would need. The others wouldn't be awake yet, so he would pace the Commons, a chance to set his mind in order before the mission.

The halls offered a measure of comfort to him, familiarity from his years of practice within. As he passed into the grounds beyond, however, he noticed that Marek had already arrived.

"Ah, padawan." he said, somewhat glad for the company. "Restless as well, I see? Nevermind that, tell me, how goes your studies and practice? They will be needed on our next journey."