The wind that moved through Elysiar's upper garden was warm, but not comforting.
It carried the distant scent of ozone and silverleaf, the floral canopy rustling in low tones above the Vault's glimmering terrace. Below, the city glowed like a living constellation—magic and technology entwined in a soft hum of life. It was beautiful.
And it was at risk.
The Council Chamber – Midday
The room was dimmed by design. No harsh lights. Just filtered sunlight bending through crystalline panes high above. On the holotable, the projection of the galaxy spun slowly—marked with glowing tendrils reaching outward from Elysiar.
Beacon paths. Trade lines. Observation posts.
Lines of influence.
Lines of exposure.
"We've confirmed it," Serin said, arms crossed. "His trajectory remains unpredictable, but the pattern's unmistakable. He's not wandering. He's hunting. And he's drawing closer."
Adam stood quietly, gazing at the map without really seeing it.
Mara was the one to respond. "Not for conquest. Not for dominion. I've felt his presence. He doesn't want anything."
"Then what is he after?" asked Revas, leaning forward. "You don't bring that much power to bear unless you intend to break something."
Sylva Reth's voice drifted in like mist. "Or someone."
Vael Norr's mask hissed faintly as he exhaled. "If this is the shadow we felt when the Vault awakened, then we've already invited him. Unknowingly, perhaps—but we're the beacon."
"Elysiar was never meant to hide," Mara said sharply.
"No," Adam agreed, finally lifting his gaze. "But we didn't build it to become a battleground either."
Later – The Garden
The group shifted to the Vault's open gardens in hopes that nature might ease the growing tension. The wind still stirred uneasily, as if even the trees were listening.
Adam, Mara, Revas, Vael, Sylva, and Tolin Marek walked slowly among glimmering fountains and energy-fed vines, the conversation growing more personal.
"We've built something impossible here," Adam said quietly. "A city that stands apart from galactic power games. A sanctuary for people cast out or overlooked."
"And that's why it's vulnerable," Tolin replied. "Because it stands outside the rules."
"Outside the corruption," Mara corrected. "Outside the cycles of Jedi and Sith."
"Are you sure those cycles can be broken?" Vael asked, turning. "I've walked through too many fallen temples. They all thought they were the exception."
Mara's eyes flared with memory. "I was one of the exceptions. I served an Empire built on the bones of ideals. And I saw it fall from both sides."
Revas, who had said little thus far, finally spoke. "So what do we do when this Harbinger arrives? When everything we've created stands in his path?"
Sylva turned to Adam, her voice nearly a whisper. "Would you be willing to sacrifice it? To destroy what you built to stop him?"
That made them all stop.
Adam turned toward the cityscape—his city—and didn't answer at first.
Then he said: "If that's what it takes to protect the lives within it, yes."
There was no pride in his voice.
Only burden.
The Strategy Room – Hours Later
The council reconvened, this time with a focus not on maps or projections—but on doctrine.
On philosophy.
"This is more than a threat to Elysiar," Mara said. "This is a test of what we believe in."
Tywin, ever the realist, responded coolly. "Belief won't hold a shield wall."
"And yet belief is what built this city," Adam said. "Not power. Not fear."
Vael stepped forward. "He's not just strong in the Force—he is the Force, distorted. He feels like a wound that refuses to heal. We don't know if he can be reasoned with."
"We don't know if he wants to be reasoned with," Serin added.
Tolin leaned forward. "Then maybe it's not about stopping him. Maybe it's about showing him that this place… matters. That not everything must fall into shadow."
Mara gave him a long look.
"You think a being forged in hate will see meaning in balance?"
"I don't know," Tolin replied. "But if we fight him like a monster, he'll give us the war we expect."
Adam closed his eyes.
Then opened them again, steadier.
"Then we prepare for both."
The Quiet Before
That night, the Vault hummed softly.
In chambers sealed to most, Knight Artorias stood still as stone, his presence a pillar of absolute stillness. He needed no orders. No rhetoric. When the time came, he would act.
Above, the stars shimmered.
And in the far edges of the system, sensors went blind for a fraction of a second.
Just long enough for something to pass through.
In their quarters, Adam and Mara stood at the balcony again.
"Do you think we're enough?" he asked.
Mara didn't answer for a long time.
Finally, she said:
"We are if we don't break."
The wind shifted.
And the storm drew near.