This is a sample guest message. Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!
He stood still long after Veraxis had turned away.
Saber still humming.
Breath still steady.
But the air felt different now—heavier somehow, as though the Force itself had taken note of him, etched his name into the stone and ash of Korriban with invisible ink.
He hadn’t struck Veraxis...
He staggered—not far, not hard. But enough.
The Force push struck like a whisper laced with iron, bending his stance without breaking it. Controlled. Intentional. A correction, not a punishment. Kaelus caught himself, knees flexing, saber drawn low but ready. His teeth clenched—not from pain...
The hum of his saberstaff faded into the back of his mind.
Not because the battle was over—but because Kaelus was listening now.
To his breath.
To the way Veraxis moved like a ripple over still water. Not dodging—redirecting. Not retreating—inviting. His strikes hadn’t missed. They had never...
He didn’t flinch.
The saberstaff hung in the air, humming softly between them—an accusation, a challenge, a mirror. Kaelus stared past it, eyes locked with those glowing voids beneath Veraxis’s hood. A lesser acolyte might’ve dropped to one knee. Might’ve begged. Might’ve frozen.
But Kaelus...
The academy reeked of sweat, pride, and desperation.
Kaelus Virek Thorne stood at the edge of the dueling ring, the hiss of sparring sabers filling the air. He wasn’t watching the fight—his opponent had already been carried out, unconscious and bleeding from the nose. Instead, his eyes drifted...
This site uses cookies to help personalise content, tailor your experience and to keep you logged in if you register.
By continuing to use this site, you are consenting to our use of cookies.