The red light of the Sith holocron pulsed gently in the dim chamber, casting long shadows across the carved stone walls. Kai sat before it, breath steady, mind focused. The ancient specter shimmered faintly before him—less a man, more a memory given voice.
"You carry more than curiosity," the specter said, voice low and resonant. "The crystal at your neck... it hums with resonance. A wound in time, etched in Force."
Kai instinctively reached up and touched the small, dark crystal resting just below his collar. It had been with him since before he remembered—gifted to him by his mother, who never explained its origin. It often felt warm during meditation, but only now did he sense a deeper vibration, a subtle pulse beneath his fingers.
"What is it?" Kai asked, voice hushed.
"A shard of legacy," the spirit replied. "Not of Jedi. Not of Sith. But something older. I feel within it memory—experience, pain, triumph. It is more than stone—it remembers."
Kai blinked. "Remembers?"
The specter's gaze flared.
"You have the potential for psychometry—the rare ability to draw echoes of the past from the objects that carried them. Touch, focus, and the Force may whisper what time forgot. It is a gift... and a danger."
Kai looked down at the crystal again. He'd never tried to connect with it in that way—he didn't even know how. But now, the idea rooted itself in his mind. Visions of what the crystal had seen, felt, endured... he could uncover its truth.
"How do I begin?" he asked.
"Still your mind. Let go of thought, and reach with feeling. Do not command—listen. Let the Force carry you backward, through scars burned into matter. The crystal will show what it has known... if you are ready to see it."
Kai nodded and closed his eyes, drawing in a slow breath.
He let go of the present—the stone beneath him, the flicker of the holocron's light, even the watchful presence of the Sith ghost. He focused solely on the crystal, its cool weight in his palm.
He reached for it—not with his hand, but with the Force. Searching not for power, but for memory.
And slowly... something stirred.
The air shifted, heavy with age. The warmth of the crystal became heat, then fire. Visions blurred behind his eyelids—too fast to make sense of—until one image seized hold:
A battlefield.
Ash rained from the sky, and crimson sabers clashed against golden ones. A temple in flames, banners torn by wind and war. And at the center—hands holding this very crystal—hands that bled, burned, and yet refused to let go.
He gasped, pulled backward into the present, eyes snapping open.
His heart pounded in his chest.
The crystal still glowed faintly, as if it, too, remembered.
The specter of Naga Sadow regarded him in silence for a long moment.
"You begin to see," it murmured. "Memory is power. And this crystal... may yet reveal more."
Kai held the stone tighter. That was only a fragment. The past wasn't done speaking.
Kai sat cross-legged in the chamber of the ruins, surrounded by silence. The crystal lay in his open palm, its surface warm and thrumming gently with invisible energy. The specter of Naga Sadow had said the crystal held memory—that Kai, through psychometry, could access the echoes embedded in its past.
He closed his eyes, steadying his breath.
The Force flowed through him—calm and deep like an ocean beneath his skin. He let go of the present, slipping into the current of sensation, allowing the crystal's quiet hum to draw him inward.
At first, darkness.
Then—flashes.
Heat. Roaring wind. The glare of twin suns.
Sand whipped across cracked armor as a towering figure trudged across a vast desert. A Mandalorian warrior, his beskar plates scuffed and scorched, moved with purpose. Slung across his back was a massive vibrospear, and strapped to his belt—explosives, tools, and hunting gear. But it was the visor—reflecting a dune-streaked sky—that held the intensity of a man on a mission.
Before him, the ground trembled.
From a distant ridge, a mountain of scales and horns erupted from the sand—a krayt dragon, its massive form coiling like a dune come to life. It roared, the sound echoing for miles, rattling the bones of the land itself.
Kai's breath caught in his chest as he watched the confrontation unfold.
The Mandalorian did not flinch. He launched into the air with a roar of his jetpack, dodging the beast's lunge by inches. The spear ignited, slicing across the krayt's neck, drawing a guttural bellow of rage. The battle was brutal, primal—Force or no Force, this was raw determination, skill, and fearlessness.
Each movement of the warrior etched itself into Kai's mind—every dodge, every precise strike. The Force thrummed louder, harmonizing with the memory.
The final moment came as the krayt collapsed with a thunderous crash, its breath shuddering one last time.
Silence.
The Mandalorian climbed atop the fallen beast and, with reverence, cut into its chest. From the heart of the creature, he pulled free a large, shimmering pearl—no ordinary gemstone, but radiant with power. The same crystal Kai now held.
As the warrior raised it to the light, the memory pulsed once more—and with it, the Force whispered something deeper.
This was more than a trophy. It was sacred. A fragment of life and death, struggle and triumph.
And now, it was Kai's.
The vision faded slowly. He exhaled, sweat beading on his brow, heart thundering.
He opened his eyes and looked down at the crystal, its glow soft and steady.
Not just a relic of the past—this crystal had endured.