Careful with that thing; it's been though hell

XV - Attachments

They make their way through the rough terrain as the chanting grows louder and louder. In the distance, the tomb is a tall shadow in a night saturated with faraway stars.

"You don't hear it?" She asks a seemingly unaffected Merrin. The nightsister shakes her head. "No, the call is not meant for me. But I feel it."

They reach the main entrance. The set of tall black doors open with a loud groan as they near, as if anticipating them. It's almost pitch black inside. Merrin raises a hand and a green orb of magick appears in her hand, barely lighting their way. With every step, the dread in the pit of her stomach grows.

And yet, Cere feels as if she could take a deep breath in this great sea of ancient power.

She decides to do it. She draws that breath.

The moment she does, Cere is struck by an overwhelming rush of warmth and light and clarity. She hears the voices clearly now—voices not belonging to the tomb, no, but of the Jedi that came before and of the ancient enigma that is the Force. They seem to surround her, binding themselves to her, then stretch out further, beyond this physical realm.

And they all say one thing to her, the only thing Cere cares to hear: the Force is with you.

All around her, the tomb fills with light—light so bright, it claims her vision. Cere holds a hand up to shield her eyes, but the glow fades as soon as it comes. When it clears, the dark tomb has burned away.

Cere finds herself in the gardens of the Jedi Temple. The view is...for the lack of a better word, unsettling. She crouches, brushing her fingers over the neatly-kept Geonosian violets closest to her. They may not be real, but they feel real, and that's what matters. She's home. Home: where there's no war, no fear, and most importantly, no Empire.

Now, Cere can already picture her master walking through the paths, an ancient cypher in hand. With its lush flora, crystal-clear springs and iridescent aqua creatures, the meditation gardens were Eno's favourite place in the whole temple—second to the Archives, of course, but it wasn't uncommon to find him outside, soaking in the sun, poring over material from the library. 

That, of course, is what happens. A pair of scuffed-up, slightly-muddy leather boots come into her line of sight. She looks up to see her old master, a serene smile on his face and a book tucked under one arm. "Hello, Cere."

"Eno," She greets, rising. "It's so good to see you again." And it is. The last time they'd come face to face, Cere had waved a frantic farewell as she and Trilla ran for the youngling dormitories while Eno headed toward the Archives. We'll rendezvous off-world when it's safe, He'd said. May the Force be with you.

Eno's kind smile grows. "Likewise, Cere. It's been a while." He gestures to a nearby stone bench sheltered by the shade of a tall Wroshyr. They sit and Eno turns to her.

"It seems to me that you've been having many great adventures," He says, a spark of what looks like pride in his eyes. "I'm proud of you. My regret is that I'm not there to document them all."

"Thank you, Eno." Cere wrings her hands. "But you're too kind. I failed..." She sighs. "I failed Trilla. And now...now I just might lose Cal, too."

"That may be so. But isn't that the beauty of life? To make mistakes? To fail?" He gives her a questioning look. "We make mistakes, but we live to learn from them. We survive to better ourselves and correct our past wrongdoings." He lets out a short laugh. "Forgive me, old friend. You know I tend to nag when I can."

"You're not nagging," She says, smiling. In fact, if there's one thing she's missed about him, it's his nagging. "You'll always have something to teach me. I appreciate it."