“If it were Avar Kriss, you’d keep looking. Am I right?”
“Probably.”
“Well, I heard she left too, and Stellan Gios died up on Starlight. Guess you don’t have a home either.”
What if trying really was enough?
That’s all Stellan had been trying to do, wasn’t it? The right thing. And Elzar, too, when everything went wrong for him on Starlight. They’d all made mistakes. Terrible mistakes. They’d allowed the Nihil to win.
But at least they’d tried.
“Avar—”
“Would you let me go alone?”
“That’s not the point—”
“Elzar Mann exceptionalism, then? I see.” Avar’s expression had closed off.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Being patronizing.”
“Stellan was better at it,” she said, with a little smile to show she was teasing.
When he finished, Elzar felt pinned down by the weight of what Avon had delivered.
He hit the comm and ordered up a priority channel for Avar Kriss on the Elder Lily, where she was heading for the Stormwall.
“Avar, wait for me. I know how we can find Marchion Ro.”
“Long it is that this seat has been missing a Council member,” Master Yoda said, indicating Stellan’s chair.
“Too long,” murmured Master Adampo.
Elzar bowed slightly in acknowledgment.
Grand Master Lahru inclined his head. “We want you to accept the position.”
“Is it because you can’t face the Stormwall again?”
Elzar closed his eyes, looking calm to a stranger maybe—but to Avar his struggle to maintain his expression radiated clearly. “When was the last time I did something right?”
He didn’t understand why, but he didn’t have to. The Force wasn’t some kind of technical manual, laying out every step of a plan. It was something you interpreted, something you felt.
“You’ve had the strength to walk your own path. Even if that path was crooked at times, it was yours and yours alone. You and Avar, you’ve always known who you were. You’ve never let the Order do your thinking for you. You always shone…that little bit brighter.”
Elzar’s body shook as he was racked by another coughing fit.
“He’s inhaled a lot of smoke. I’m surprised he’s still with us.”
“He’s stubborn. Aren’t you, Elzar? Hey.”
Elzar slumped in Ty’s arms, his eyes rolling up into their sockets.
He was too deep, thrashing in unfamiliar waters. There was no solace to be had.
He cast his mind farther, seeking, reaching out through the Force.
But she wasn’t there. She was never there. Not anymore.
I’ve lost you, Avar.
And I’ve lost myself.
Elzar had found enough emergency blankets to fashion a bed for Stellan to rest upon, in the corner, almost entirely walled off by the still-bleeping astromechs.
She picked up a few boxes and a chunk of pink stone in order to make room on a chair. “I don’t have anything to offer you except some blue milk, sorry.”
“I’m not thirsty. But are you feeding yourself?” Elzar frowned.
The scowl Avon shot him reminded him intensely of Ghirra.
The Force was right there with him, only it was so loud. It was too much, crashing from every direction.
If Elzar narrowed his attention, he might miss something.
If Elzar didn’t listen to every voice, what if the solution drifted right by?
It had been years of enemies and politics that made him forget he used to go out of his way to talk to new people every day. To learn things. To push buttons and boundaries.
It wasn’t that he’d forgotten. He’d only let himself get bogged down by the bad stuff.
He’d already considered trying something like that with this half of Starlight; it would mean fully reconnecting to the Force again in a way he hadn’t since Ledalau, in a way he did not yet fully trust again, but if that was what it took, Elzar would do it.
Elzar looked from one seated master to another. “But who are we if not Jedi? Guardians. Peacekeepers. Protectors. Yes, there is a risk, but it is one I will gladly take if it brings us closer to stopping the Nihil, to liberating the worlds of the Occlusion Zone.”
With the shadow of a smile, she added, “Don’t worry. I can be surprisingly careful, when I want to be.”
He wanted to stop her, but she was right. “If you’re not back within the hour, I’m coming after you.”
“I’d expect no less.”
Elzar raised an eyebrow as he read the data scrolling across the scope. “This is going to be bumpy.”
“The way you fly?” Ty muttered from the jump seat. “Why am I not surprised?”
He chuckled, firing the thrusters. “The Force will be with us.”
“Good. It’ll need to be.”
His eyes streamed from the smoke, and his skin burned, but he didn’t care; in fact he welcomed it. He deserved it. Every scar the smog inflicted was a reminder that he needed to make amends. He needed to put things right.