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The world was chaos and darkness and pain, and for the second time that night Elzar felt like he was drowning. Except this time the sea wasn’t the warm and inviting smile of Avar Kriss, it was the cold, endless blanket of darkness.
It felt like an eternity before he realized that he was kneeling, the solid deck of the Starlight Beacon beneath him, and the darkness was nowhere to be found; not here in this place, anyway—though he knew it waited somewhere in the galaxy, for a time in the future that he didn’t know. What they had seen in Hetzal was only the beginning.
He wiped blood from his nose with the sleeve of his robe and rose slowly to his feet. Avar. He needed to warn her. Something was coming.
In a daze, Elzar found his way back to the festivities, and he stumbled to the nearest refresher. His head felt like it was about to split in two, and he leaned over the sink to splash water on his face. He stayed there for a minute, his hands splayed on the counter, listening to the sound of the running water as his heart gradually slowed from its frantic pace. Whatever he had seen, he couldn’t allow it to come to pass.
Elzar finally raised his head to look in the mirror. He looked like he had been through battle, but at least his nose had finally stopped bleeding. Blood stained the pristine white of the outer tabard, and a long streak of blood ran down the sleeve of his robe. He couldn’t return to the reception like this. He dropped the robe to the floor of the refresher, and carefully pulled off the embroidered ceremonial tabard. The other layers of the Jedi attire seemed to be in decent enough condition—though there was a bit of dirt on the front of his pants from when he fell to the floor—and he decided that it would have to be good enough. All those layers were largely unnecessary anyway. Too much pomp and circumstance for his taste. He tossed the bloodied garments down the towel chute. He didn’t consider how he’d find them again.
After another splash of cold water on his face, Elzar exited back out into the reception. He stood on the edges of the celebration for a moment, looking for the one face that might be able to ease the pain and cast light into the darkness, but his search was interrupted by a serving droid.
“Rosé?” the droid asked, holding out a tray of several delicate stemmed glasses filled with a vibrant pink liquid.
Elzar took one without question. He lifted the glass to his lips, and the taste brought back a memory that he had tried hard to forget. But at the moment, the memory was far better than the lingering pain of his vision.
He knocked the rest of the glass back and reached for two more glasses from the droid’s tray before it wandered off. Avar should have some of this, he thought to himself.
As he lifted the second glass to his lips he allowed the taste to transport him back to a simpler time, before Hetzal and the responsibilities of knighthood. All at once he was fifteen again, back on the beaches of Kattada, looking out over the glittering water as the setting sun painted swaths of pinks and oranges across the sky. Avar came up beside him and handed him a glass half-filled with something he didn’t recognize at the time, a sly smile on her face.
Elzar raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?” he asked.
“A gift from the prime minister, as thanks,” Avar responded, still grinning.
Elzar took the glass from her but he hesitated. “What is it?” he asked.
“Just try it,” she responded. As he lifted it to his lips Avar added, “Master Indeera said it was alright.”
Elzar paused just before the drink touched his lips and smiled. “Oh?” he asked.
Avar stifled a giggle. At that, Elzar was overcome with curiosity and took his first sip.
The drink was bright and sweet and airy, and Elzar realized immediately why Avar had been so coy.
“Master Stokes said we could have wine?” Elzar asked incredulously.
Avar smiled and shrugged. “Well, she said it was rude to refuse the gift.”
Elzar almost choked on his next sip. “But she didn’t say that we should be the ones to accept it…” he clarified after a cough.
Avar shrugged again and took a sip of her own glass. A mischievous grin spread across Elzar’s face as he did the same.
They hadn’t gotten in trouble, exactly, but they had gotten a lesson from Indeera Stokes on the importance of temperance and not being ruled by physical pleasures. It was a lecture that Elzar wasn’t thinking about in the present moment.
He spotted Avar across the great hall of the Starlight Beacon, engaged in conversation with the chancellor herself, Lina Soh. He knew it would be difficult to pull her away, but he still made his way in her direction.
Another sip of the wine, another memory. Two eighteen-year-olds, blissfully unaware of the responsibilities that lay ahead in too short a time…sometimes Elzar wished he could forget those days. But other times he held onto them like they were the very thing that gave him breath.
He still remembered being able to taste the wine on her lips. He remembered the warmth that had flowed through his veins, her hands tangled in his hair, and the weight of her hips pressed against his…
Simpler times, but they’d made their decisions. Elzar still wondered sometimes how those decisions might have been different and what life would be like.
But the past wasn’t something to dwell on. Now the future…that held possibilities. Elzar smiled as he thought of Naboo. They’d always said they’d see it together one day, and that much had come true. Maybe, just maybe, they’d really get to take their retirement on Varykino…
The future also held darkness, and it came rushing back to Elzar. He gasped against the sensation of water filling his lungs and struggled to push it down.
Both glasses in his hands were suddenly empty. When did that happen? Elzar set them down absently on a small table as he brushed past, still focused on reaching Avar. She still felt an ocean away.
It felt like the day she’d left. One day they were tangled together in the early morning light, and the next she was gone. Then knighthood had come and their Padawan days were behind them, and life had marched forward. That was the way of things.
“Rosé?” a droid asked, appearing suddenly at Elzar’s elbow. He nodded, accepting two more glasses.
“Already at it?” a friendly voice joked. Elzar turned to see Stellan smiling good-naturedly. Stellan raised his eyebrows and nodded at the two glasses in his hand.
Elzar forced a laugh. “They’re not both for me,” he answered, hearing his own voice for the first time in what felt like hours.
He cleared his throat and offered a glass to Stellan, who shook his head with a laugh. “I know you didn’t pick it up for me either,” he joked. Stellan hadn’t had so much as a sip of alcohol since he’d taken on his first Padawan, but Elzar figured that would be different now that Vernestra was a fully fledged Jedi Knight. Apparently not.
He glanced over to where Avar still stood with the chancellor. Stellan nodded. “I figured as much. She probably needs someone to drag her away. I think Lina has kept her ear for the past hour.”
Hour? Elzar realized he had absolutely no concept of time at the moment.
The pain in his head returned with a vengeance, and he must have winced because Stellan suddenly looked concerned.
“You alright?” he asked.
Elzar nodded. “Just a headache,” he replied. “It’s been a long day.”
It wasn’t enough to satisfy Stellan, but still he nodded. He placed a firm hand on Elzar’s shoulder. “Be well. Go rescue Ave and then maybe get to bed at a reasonable hour? You deserve some rest.”
Normally Elzar would have laughed and made a joke about bedtimes being for younglings, but all he could do was nod and turn in the direction of Avar.
Screams echoed in Elzar’s mind as he walked. He shut them up with a long sip of the wine in his hand. He closed his eyes, willing the world to stop spinning just for a moment.
A voice broke through the chaos, as sweet as a Tarisian rose. “Oh Chancellor, I believe you’ve met Jedi Master Elzar Mann?” His eyes snapped open and he realized that Avar was only a few steps away. When had she gotten there? Had he already closed the distance? She wasn’t looking at him, but her hand was extended towards him. “He helped me with Keven’s prediction array.”
Elzar took a shaky breath and smiled, taking a step towards her. She was solid ground, and light, and peace. Lina Soh nodded and smiled in greeting.
“I’m not quite a master yet,” he clarified. Avar waved her hand.
“Merely a formality,” she replied. She met his gaze for a moment longer than necessary. Elzar extended the untouched glass of rosé towards her. She accepted it wordlessly and lifted it slightly in thanks.
“That’s from Kattada,” Elzar said with a wink.
Avar fixed him with a look as she took a sip. Under normal circumstances it would have been enough to remind him of their position, but tonight…
Elzar turned to Chancellor Soh. “When we were Padawans, we were traveling with a group out to a new outpost, when we received a garbled distress call,” he began. “And it turns out that the senator from Kattada had been kidnapped by pirates. So naturally, we staged a rescue.”
“Naturally,” the chancellor said, raising her eyebrows.
“They weren’t the Nihil,” Elzar felt compelled to clarify. “They were…” he searched his memory, which was suddenly a bit fuzzier than it had been earlier.
“Shara Raiders,” Avar finished. Elzar nodded.
“Shar-aiders,” Elzar stumbled with a laugh. “Sha-ra rai-ders,” he tried again, enunciating each syllable. “Haven’t heard about them in some years. I wonder whatever happened to them? They were such a pain in the Colonies region, and then they just disappeared…” Avar cleared her throat, reminding him that the rambling was unnecessary. “Anyway, long short story—long story short—we saved the senator and were rewarded with a bottle of this.” He took another sip.
He suddenly noticed that Avar’s hand was on his arm.
“How nice,” Lina said politely. “Kattada is a beautiful planet.”
“It’s one of the prettiest places in the galaxy I’d wager,” Elzar agreed.
Lina laughed. “Do Jedi wager?” she joked.
“No,” Avar interjected, her fingers wrapping around Elzar’s upper arm. “But we do, on occasion, dance. And I promised Elzar a dance before the end of the evening,” she said with a smile.
Lina bowed her head just slightly. “Of course Master Kriss. Enjoy the celebration. It was so nice getting to talk with you.”
Avar nodded and smiled until Lina was out of earshot before turning to Elzar.
“How many of those have you had so far?” she asked pointedly.
Elzar lifted his glass to his lips and downed its contents almost defiantly. He smirked. “Relax, I only managed to catch the serving droid twice,” he said evenly. He set his now empty glass down on a nearby table. “But you owe me a dance, remember?”
Avar sighed and looped her arm under his. “I did say that didn’t I?” she responded. They walked towards the wide open area near where a band played. For a moment Elzar felt like he was floating. His cheeks were flushed—either from the wine or from the memories it had produced—and he was acutely aware of where Avar’s arm wrapped around his, like a vine curling upwards towards his shoulder, holding him close to her side.
“Master Kriss!” came a garbled voice nearby. The pair turned to see OrbaLin, the archivist of the Starlight Beacon. He plodded towards them slowly, the space suit holding his globular form into a vaguely humanoid shape.
“Archivist, it’s so nice to see you,” Avar greeted him.
The Ugor bowed his helmet slightly. “I’m looking forward to working with you,” the vocal transmitter burbled.
“Let me introduce Jedi Master Elzar Mann,” Avar said, turning to Elzar.
Elzar nodded, unsure if he should extend a hand in greeting or not. The Ugor’s suit had hands, but the Jedi inside didn’t, not exactly…
Apparently formalities were as foreign to the archivist as they were to Elzar, because OrbaLin seemed to barely register the introduction. He launched into a passionate discussion about some of his plans for the station, and Avar listened patiently and intently.
A charhound slid between them and Elzar took a step back. What was an animal doing running around the celebration?
“Sorry!” came the voice of the Padawan running after her. “Ember, come back!” Elzar watched them disappear into the crowd, unable to make sense of what he saw. He couldn’t put his finger on why the hound and the Padawan filled him with a sense of foreboding.
“Rosé?” asked a serving droid. Now this he could make sense of. Elzar glanced at Avar, deep in conversation still, before selecting a glass.
People continued to move around him, but Elzar was frozen in place. He watched Avar nod and smile, knowing that this wasn’t what she wanted to be doing, that she would have allowed herself to be whisked away from the crowds in an instant on any occasion but today. Today she was the Marshall of Starlight Beacon, and that demanded a level of sociability.
It should have been Jora Malli, Elzar remembered in a rush. He wondered if Avar was thinking about her. She had been brave and steady, a wise and patient Master. Elzar also remembered with a lurch that she’d had a Padawan. He couldn’t imagine being in the kid’s shoes right now. Losing a master before you were ready was a different kind of struggle.
Suddenly he felt the vast emptiness, the pain and loss from his vision, and it threatened to consume him from the inside out. He closed his eyes, fighting a battle with his mind no one else could see.
Elzar drank the rest of his wine, chasing back the pain to a dull ache. He opened his eyes as Avar said her goodbyes. He quickly abandoned his glass before she looked his way. She held out a delicate hand to him and he took it, holding it for a moment before pulling her towards him.
He must have pulled a little too hard because suddenly she was much closer than he expected. She placed a hand on his chest as if to catch herself from falling.
Avar looked down and took half a step back. “Sorry,” Elzar mumbled.
“Do you recognize this song?” Avar asked abruptly, her face lighting up.
Elzar shook his head. Avar seemed to remember every song she’d ever heard, and Elzar didn’t understand but he loved it about her.
“This is what was playing in that cantina on Corellia,” she said as she pulled him towards the dance floor. “Listen listen, you hear that horn? Just wait for the trill. It’s the best part.” Her smile was wider than it normally was, and Elzar was reminded how much he loved her smile. He loved it almost as much as Avar loved her music.
He lifted his hand and twirled her once. Her white and gold cloak rippled behind her as she did.
“See?” she said when she stopped. “That sound? Doesn’t it just make you want to dance?”
Elzar reached his other hand to her waist and pulled her in. “You make me want to dance,” he said in response.
Avar laughed but she didn’t protest. She allowed herself to be led as Elzar stepped in time to the upbeat song. Her hand rested on his shoulder and they danced through familiar motions.
“Do you remember that diplomatic etiquette class?” Avar asked with a laugh.
“I remember thinking it was the most pointless class we ever took,” Elzar said slowly, enunciating the words that had suddenly gotten trickier. Avar shook her head.
“How can you say it was pointless when you learned to dance?”
Elzar responded by lifting their joined hands and easing her into a spin combo that brought her back into his arms.
“I suppose you have a point,” he whispered into her ear as he held her close. He felt her freeze for just a moment in his arms, before releasing her back to their starting position.
Avar cleared her throat. “You’ll have to let me know when the Master ceremony is so I can be there.”
Elzar shook his head. “We both know they won’t let you leave Starlight just for that.” He could feel his words sliding together.
“Well, then I’ll be there via holo,” she said with determination.
Elzar’s mouth twitched at the corners. “Sure,” he said with a remarkable amount of self-restraint. He didn’t tell her that she was the only person he really cared about being there.
The floor felt like it dropped out from underneath him as he wondered if Avar was among the dying Jedi he’d seen in his vision.
Something about his expression troubled Avar. “El, are you okay?”
But they were interrupted again.
“Master Kriss, I presume?”
They both turned to see a middle-aged Jedi with square glasses and a graying beard. He smiled warmly.
“Palo Hidalla,” he said by way of introduction, extending his hand. Avar brightened.
“The architect of Starlight!” she exclaimed. “How wonderful to meet you.”
“I understand that the Beacon will be under your care now,” he said. Avar nodded solemnly.
Elzar sidestepped away from the conversation, understanding that this was just yet another of Avar’s duties. He nearly knocked over a serving droid on the edges of the dance floor.
“Rosé?” the droid asked. Elzar didn’t bother to check how engrossed Avar was in her conversation. He grabbed a glass, hoping to drown out the fear that lingered as a blur at the edges of his mind.
He promised himself he’d drink this one more slowly. Each sip opened a cascade of memories…Stellan’s knighting ceremony, Avar’s Padawan quarters, the feeling of emptiness when his friends had both been sent off on assignments while he waited to be granted the rank of Knight.
That emptiness was again filled with screams and horrors, though the feeling felt a little more distant, a little more dull. His head was spinning and at this point he couldn’t tell if it was the vision or the wine.
“Elzar? El?” Avar’s voice broke through the darkness again. Both hands were holding him by his upper arms, concern written all over her face.
Seeing her face caused a surge of emotion to well up within him. She was the most beautiful person he knew, the most wonderful and kind and selfless, a beacon of light and hope all on her own, and he missed her in a way he couldn’t put into words. He reached out with his free hand to pull her closer, bringing his face only inches from hers…
But something stopped him. He looked down and saw Avar’s hand on his chest before he felt it, gently pushing him back to hold him at arm’s length.
“El, what are you doing?”
She saw the now empty glass in his hand by his side and realization washed over her.
“Come on,” she said gently but firmly, guiding him off the dance floor. He didn’t question it, but stumbled where she led, her hand gripping his arm. Warmth seeped into his muscles where her fingers pressed tightly into him, and he reached across himself to lay a hand over hers.
When the sound of the crowd had died down and Elzar realized they were in a hallway, Avar stopped and turned to face him. “Honestly, how many of these have you had tonight?” she asked. Elzar realized that she was now holding the glass that had been in his hand. When did that happen?
Elzar shrugged. “I needed it,” he said.
“You needed it?” Avar asked incredulously. “What, so that you could make a fool of yourself? So you could make a fool of me?”
The words stung more sharply than any other sensation that Elzar was experiencing. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean—”
“We’re not Padawans anymore.”
“That’s not—”
“Maybe we did work together too closely this time,” Avar said, taking a small step back. “I’m sorry El. I really am.”
“No that isn’t…” Elzar searched desperately for words. That wasn’t the explanation. What was the explanation?
“Avar please…” Words felt heavy in his mouth.
Avar had flagged down a droid rolling down the hallway. “KC, can you help Master Mann find his quarters for the evening? It’s a big station and I don’t want him to get lost.”
Master Mann. The title that should have been a source accomplishment suddenly felt like a stinging nettle. Not “Elzar,” or any other expression of familiarity, but a term of formality that felt like a data wipe, erasing any sense of a connection between them.
“Be well,” Avar said simply, before returning quickly to the festivities.
Elzar was left alone with the droid, who beeped impatiently at him when he didn’t follow.
Avar.
She was gone. He hadn’t told her about his vision.