“Now or never…..” Nohk’s voice signaled over the ships comm, Vomend craned his long ears upward as he glared at Vos. “We need to suspend operations Vos, recall our outbound units.”
Quinlan was at a loss for words, “Vomend we don’t even know if we’ve made any progress, besides, the interference we’re already experiencing may render that impossible.”
“We will make precisely the progress we intended once Nohk fires the prototype, reducing the enemies’ numbers is the only function we serve do not forget.” Vomend responded without hesitation, his small eyes returning to the holoimage they had not left since decanting the mobilized units, its lazy refresh doing very little to combat the intense interference from the storms they found themselves within.
“I will concede that to you Vomend, but we need to offer what assistance we can to the Togruta and her party...at the very least, provide them a way off planet.”
Vomend turned from his position, his ears turning downward as he locked his gaze upon Vos’ again, “and what of your insistence upon being planet side yourself Vossy? Your determined plea to face Vader?”
Quinlan Vos didn’t answer right away but refused to turn his gaze from the intense Lannik’s eyes. He chuckled to himself as he stretched his mind out through the Force, “the apprentice has become the Master Vomend…..I will not be needed.” He said, the smile refusing to wipe itself from his expression, “but they will need our help.”
Vomend considered the comment thoroughly, completely understanding that he understood nothing of substance in context. He shook off the mental dead end and focused on the tangibility of the present, “which we cannot provide if we have yet to work out the seismic aftershock of a routed oscillation discharge Vossy.”
Voss nodded his head in agreement as he eyed a subsidiary tactical screen inset into the holotable itself. “I understand Vomend. Do we have time?”
The Lannik found reason to chuckle himself as Vos asked the question, “that’s always the question isn’t it.” He composed himself as he transitioned flawlessly into his serious norm, “We will make the time.” He said, shuffling his diminutive form toward his tactical officer.
Quinlan was only half listening as he stretched himself back into the tether of the Force, reaching deeply into the fabric of his own senses. He wanted desperately to revisit the images that had fleetingly breezed through his conscience so willingly. A triumvirate of individual experiences that ebbed and flowed collectively within the confines of a central whole. He had never experienced such a substantial connection, not even twenty plus years prior when the Jedi where at the zenith of their numbers. Quinlan offered his own past to his subconscious for deliberation as he had never sustained connections as it were but could not dissuade himself from drawing comparisons to Ventress. ‘Yes...it was like that,’ he answered the doubt ringing through his own mind.
“Vossy?” Vomend shouted again, finally catching the old Jedi’s attention. “You with us?”
Quinlan wouldn't dare hide the smile that stretched across his face regardless of circumstance, his thoughts ranging through the infinite to reunite his mind with his memories. “I am always with you Vomend, what have you?”
The Lannik stared at him awkwardly before giving his squat head a shake, “we will not have time to recall every unit, but those that are close. We will notify those units on the fringes to power down completely until our return.”
“Our return?” Vos lost his train of thought as reality forced its way back thoroughly.
Vomend blew out a breath, “this is why you don’t lead Vossy, you cannot keep your head straight long enough to hear a conversation through to its entirety.” His ears downturned almost completely as he spoke, Vos very well aware of the Lannik’s annoyance. “We are going to have to relocate and don’t have much time, Nohk is already engaging.”
Voss turned fully toward the transparisteel canopy, watching as the chaotic swirl of browns and yellows gave way to the austere blue of upper atmosphere then finally the blackness of space in lower orbit, ‘relocate indeed,’ he thought to himself knowing the Lannik was taking proper cautions but surprised, nonetheless. “This is indeed why you lead Vomend….and I do not.” He finally responded dismissing the man’s comment as it was given. Quinlan crossed an arm over his chest and rested the other upon it, lifting a finger to his chin as he slowly approached the canopy itself. His memories, once retrieved, always danced ceaselessly through his conscience, reliving the final bond he had ever shared as deeply as he did with another being. He could still smell her in his nostrils, her voice whispering in his ears. He could still feel the silky fibers of her hair as they slid through his fingers and the delicate softness of her lips when they had kissed. He knew then there would never be another like her, so he had never dared to prove himself wrong. He still loved her with all his heart. The memory triggered another, more recent, as he thought upon the improbability of the man who had so recently adorned the white plastoid armor of his Imperial garrison, finding his own path toward love through avenues that would seem impossible. Kalla had always been so steadfast in her solitude only taking on the boy because she had foreseen it. Quinlan Vos chuckled yet again to himself as he tried to imagine the Iktochi’s reaction had she been fortunate enough to foresee the part she were to play in the Toprawan’s destiny, or her own for that matter. ‘But that personifies what we are fighting for at its core.’ He thought as he placed an open palm on the cold translucent metal, ‘what we’ve been fighting for since day one.’
Vos tried again to reconnect himself to the flows of the Force but only as an observant of its will or intention. Although unable to intrude upon the actions of the three… ‘four’...he corrected himself, he could sense a commune welling between the three as they fed off each other in ways he had never even conceived, negating separate weaknesses with shared strengths, yet all combating in their own way toward the same goal. ‘Such a strange combination of unlikely union,’ he thought, trying to understand what he was viewing, ‘yet all united by a love they share.’ His mind wandered down several useless paths as he tried to answer questions his subconscious had yet to conceive. The Togruta, pitted against her former master, a duel he had so believed he was to participate, fought for love. Her adamant love of hope. The Mirialan battling for a love of acceptance, one from within. And the clone….. “that’s not possible.” He mumbled to himself as he broke his connection with the will of the Force. “How is that possible?” He said aloud, his own voice echoing off the canopy before him, forcing him to turn around to the stares of most on the command deck. He raised a hand to his forehead as his voice died in the vacuous chamber, feeling a sudden weakness grasp his old legs. Without warning Vos dropped to his aged knees as his head spun wildly out of control. Several of the closest crew members rushed to place hands of support on his shoulders and back. His eyes flared wide suddenly, remembering the effects the circle of Iktochi suffered after forcing their vision. ‘Had they seen this as well?’ If so, he understood why one of them hadn’t even roused herself from the coma the ritual had induced, why Kalla was, even now, persistent in her efforts to remove herself and her own love as far away from the fighting as possible. ‘If the clone...the clone...was Force sensitive….’ his thought trailed off as a sudden hollowness gripped him entirely, “then all we’ve done for the last fifteen years has been wasted effort.” He bellowed as he threw his head back suddenly, surprising those closest to him.
Vomend eyed the strained Kiffar with severe sympathy as he was watched his dear friend collapse on the bridge decking of the vessel. “Come about fully after reaching our retreat position and assure those units on the ground that we will return immediately to collect them……..and I don’t care about interference, figure it out.” He finished his briefing with the small collection of station representatives, never once peeling his sight from his friend. Ignoring the finality of salutations he moved swiftly on his short legs to Voss’ side, placing his own small hand on the man’s shoulder. “Vossy, what is it? This is an expected reaction from the conclave...not you.”
Vos didn’t respond directly however ambulatory or cognizant he seemed. Vomend noted the shift in the man’s expressions that ran the spectrum of possibilities in the blink of an eye. He could sense Quinlan’s anger, followed in short order by an impossible sorrow, a joyful exuberance followed by a hollowed emptiness.
“I do not understand my old friend.” Vomend began again swatting away the hands of others that had come to offer their support. He turned to those that had rushed to Vos’ side and adopted, what he thought, was his most sincere expression. “Your concern is noted people, but we are in the middle of an active endeavor, I…” He paused suddenly as he stared up and into multiple sets of concerned eyes, “we, have a job to do.” He concluded, turning his attention to the Jedi as he waited for, and listened to, the shuffling of retreating footsteps. He leaned closer to Quinlan’s ear, “Vossy, whatever it is, this isn’t the place...come with me.” He offered in a hushed tone, extending his hand for the man to take.
Quinlan Vos rocked forward a final time as he blew out a breath. Extending a leg forward, he reached for the assistance and followed the Lannik toward the rear of the command deck again. A recessed seating area set in behind the holotable was discreet enough for hushed conversation to remain private. As Vomend assured himself that Vos was at least comfortable easing back into the seats he positioned himself directly in the man’s field of view. “Vos, you understand the detriment scenes like that can cause….” He paused, struggling with the vast departure of character he felt was necessary to convey the sentiment the man would respond to. “Apologies my old friend, Sitaa is usually here to handle such matters. In her absence I will do my best.”
Quinlan seemed to nod as he dropped his head forward into his waiting palms, elbows resting on his knees. “I do understand my friend.” He whispered softly in return.
“Then help me to understand what would cause such a scene.” Vomend whispered in return, doing his best to remain focused on the man before him despite the whirl of activity behind him.
“I cannot find the words my friend.” Quinlan struggled, stammering as he tried to phrase the intricacies of the Force itself to the Lannik that understood military tactics and strategies primarily. Searching for a way to convey the mysticisms and beliefs necessary to explain the Force to one that was wholeheartedly grounded in tangibility.
“Try me Quinlan.” Vomend responded to the swirling chaos of Quinlan’s thoughts, surprising Voss enough to lift his head in confusion. Vomend continued, “I do not need to touch the Force to know it exists Quinlan. Trust in our friendship, trust in our past and you will see that you do in fact possess the words.”
Quinlan Vos could only smile in response, ‘the Lannik could not have phrased that any better,’ he thought to himself as he adopted a more passionate expression. “Everything is indeed connected Vomend.” He said to him, tying the immediate conversation to the previous thoughts that had progressed to this point. “What is happening on Ambria is unprecedented my friend. I should have seen it much earlier when the crafty Togruta found a path to give me this.” Vos said, reaching into the pouch at his waist and retrieving the silver and gold saber hilt. “A suspicion she held that I had overlooked in my haste to find truths from the past.” He continued knowing full well the Lannik would need considerably more information to understand the gravity of the situation.
Vomend scratched at the stubble about his chin, “Quinlan…”
Vos cut him off with a raised hand before him, “please let me continue.” He said, wavering between dread and excitement as he found himself able to navigate the dichotomy of what he had seen. “We have spent the better part of two decades ushering former Jedi and Force sensitives into seclusion from the Emperor's widening grasp, struggling to find ways to provide safety for them outside of his influence.” Vos expelled a breath in preparation for the core of his personal concern, “meanwhile not fully grasping the scope of his own design. Vomend, he has found a way to clone Force sensitivity.”
The Lannik shook his head in disbelief, “you understand what you ware saying do you not?”
Quinlan nodded, “that I do.”
Vomend raised a small hand to his ruffled brow, brushing back fine strands of silvery hair. His own interpretation of the ramifications certainly not limited to military purposes or applications, were lost to the myriad possibilities that could extend beyond. “What is it precisely that you saw Quinlan?”
Vos adopted a troubled expression, knowing the Lannik only used his given name in matters of conversation that were personal, well outside the purview of his rank. “Confluence and divergence of the Force itself. The flows willingly conjoining as others separate themselves entirely from the whole.” He began.
“Dark Side?” Vomend couldn’t help the interruption.
“Not something so direct my friend. I am speaking of its very nature, primordial as it were.” Vos tried to explain in more detail. “Present actions yes, I suppose, only because we understand the context of what is transpiring as we speak, but also that of an ancient threat that has been tethered for eons.”
Vomend dropped his arms to his sides, his ears turning downward, “this is about that damn lake isn’t it?”
“In part, yes.” Vos responded immediately, “what lies beneath Vomend knows no allegiance. It will devour anything it can. This isn’t a matter of Dark or Light, this is a matter of evil itself. Whether it can be destroyed is the question as it relates to the here and now my friend.”
“We have reached green zone Sir.” An aged human female reported from around the holotable.
Vomend cast his head over his shoulder, his eyes remaining on Vos, “noted ensign, thank you. Inform helms to bring us about and prepare for reentry.” He returned to face Vos fully again, “of your earlier conclusions Quinlan, Force sensitive cloning? What does that mean?” Quinlan sensing the urgency within the question as it was spoken out of context, a surreal moment of connectedness between him and the Lannik’s.
“Honestly?” Vos paused for a moment trying to weigh the enormity of the answer within the purview of his own imagination, his own insight, ‘everything, or simply nothing,’ he thought. “Vast armies of Force sensitive soldiers, numbers dwarfing the height of the Jedi’s power Vomend.”
Vomend simply shrugged as he quickly measured his knowledge against both his memory and logic, “more than ten thousand is hardly vast Quinlan, even measuring the effectivity ratio of ten...even twenty to one.”
Quinlan Vos was prepared for the statement, a position few could have claimed...even those that had survived Order 66. A thin smile stretched across the Kiffar’s face as he prepared to unveil a truth few would have ever conceived, “a common misconception that, I may add, is prophetically proving itself on that planet’s surface as we speak.” He began, pointing a finger toward the forward canopy. “There is a reason Palpatine overran the temple on Coruscant first and foremost in his efforts to satiate his agenda two decades ago. But he could only manage to uncover what was left for him to uncover if you follow.”
Vomend raised a hand, “Quinlan, there is no way the Jedi could have prepared themselves for that level of manipulation or treachery. No.”
“Prepared for that circumstance specifically, no, you are correct. Jedi records were always complete, in order and uniformly direct.” Vos responded, rising to his feet as he approached the rear of the holotable, its emitter displaying the orbital movements of friend and foe alike, refreshing itself continually to retain new levels of information by the second. “They reflected precisely what was reported Vomend.” He turned to face the Lannik, finding the diminutive man raising a questioning eyebrow, his ears twitching slightly. “Think more along the lines of four or five times what you consider fact, and you’ll begin to comprehend the gravity of this conversation.” Quinlan relayed, raising both hands to his forehead as the enormity of what was currently transpiring overshadowed what he had admitted as a mere fraction of possibilities. “Let me work on phrasing this another way my old friend. Assume that the Emperor has perfected the ability to clone Force sensitivity. The Republic’s Clone Army was a surprise to everyone, including the Jedi in its entirety, when it was revealed at Geonosis, an army that numbered in the hundreds of thousands. That army my friend….that army took ten years to develop….grow if you will.” Quinlan saw the understanding wash completely through the General’s features, his pinkish skin flushing several shades lighter as his mouth opened in something resembling horror. The flesh along his ears prickling the fine hairs along them to attention as they quivered and vibrated involuntarily.
“...And he’s already had twenty…” Vomend finished the thought outright as he fully understood then where Vos was headed. The Lannik turned his gaze toward the plating at his booted feet as he ambled from side to side, letting the numbers speak for themselves in his mind. Strategic scenario after scenario entered his mind, ones that he had made decisions for specifically in the past. Each one of them ending in catastrophic failure with this new variable brought into the fold, without fail. Hope wouldn’t matter, it would be crushed under the weight of the Emperor's might the way Alderaan had been obliterated, only more quickly and with far less mercy. Vomend glanced at the holoimage briefly while digesting the weight of his thoughts, the vastness of the supposition lost to comprehension, he simply stared at the small speck representing Temple Garden. ‘Even this would be meaningless,’ he thought to himself silently, ensuring his hard features remained that way. He shook his head, his ears flinging irregularly as he turned back to Vos, “Quinlan, we’re in the middle of battle.” He stated outright, shaking his mind loose of intangible deliberation.
“That is why you lead my old friend….and I do not…” The Kiffar returned with a healthy measure of sarcasm. The wry smile he wore pulled at the wrinkles about his eyes, rendering his features almost unreadable to the Lannik’s scrutiny.
“Speaking of…” Vomend began but then quickly trailed off as he ushered himself around the holotable and toward his signals officer, Quinlan only staring after him without a shred of interest as his thoughts began to consume him altogether.
Quinlan Vos raised his head from the departing form of the truncated Lannik, his ears bobbing slightly as his pace increased around the holotable and out of sight. He knew the tested General had more than enough to process now, that the Lannik wasn’t in a mental position to comprehend the enormity of what had been suggested, but only for the moment. Vos could not ignore the chirping holotable, the thin blue lines that were delivering to his purview the entirety of the orbital chaos over Ambria. He ignored the vast array of colored geometry representing friend and foe alike and focused entirely on the sphere of the planet itself, ‘why here?’ he thought to himself as he side stepped the holotable and focused his gaze on the actual planet through the transparisteel panels of the forward viewport. He allowed the peripheral view of the ship’s crew performing their various duties to be consumed by the swirling, conflicting tones of the planet’s surface. He allowed his mind to connect fully the with natural Force around him, noting again the confluence of intersection and conjoining flows as they pulled toward their epicenter on the planet’s surface. Vos wasn’t even aware of his forward advance until the tips of his boots felt the impediment of the durasteel framework of the viewports themselves, his hands absently reaching forward to press against the cold translucent steel. A distant hum provided an audio backdrop that he knew was not shipborne by any means, its deeply resonating tone registering both a foreboding sentiment and a plea for hope.
Vos continued to watch with renewed interest as he poured more of his own energies into the continuation of the developing melodies within his own mind as they related to the fierce stabs of lightning he could see from his vantage thirty-five thousand kliks removed from the center of the convergence. “Why here…..” he said, adding voice to his earlier thoughts. Ambria had meant little to anyone he could think of for decades, if not more, ‘so why here...why now’ his mind trailed off down paths of its own, relentlessly searching for the answers he sought.
He pulled his hands back and gently tugged at the fingers of the glove he wore on his right hand and pulled it off fully. Pocketing the glove with his left hand he reached into the pouch at his side with the right, instantly retrieving the gold hilted saber. Knowing what to expect each time he brushed his fingers across its smooth surface now, he welcomed the images that flashed through his mind as much as he cursed that which he didn’t see in them. Quinlan continued to come to the same conclusion every time he witnessed the final confrontation with Chancellor Palpatine knowing there was only one alteration he would have made, or would he? ‘Masters Kolar, Tiin….even Fisto…’ Vos thought to himself as he slid his fingers delicately over the cool metal, masters of their own saber techniques, the finest the Jedi could muster, stood no chance. ‘Only Windu possessed the ability to establish what was necessary,’ this trail of mental exercise had surmised since he first touched the sabers hilt. “But at what cost my old friend?” He whispered the question before him, no direction to the inquiry but that of the universe itself. “My presence would have altered...nothing…” he continued, blowing out his warm breath against the cold panels, condensation fogging over the view before him.
The hum that had reverberated through the back of his mind ceased suddenly, leaving Vos feeling a creeping cold and emptiness in its wake.
“You can’t possibly know that Quinlan.” A voice whispered in conjunction with his thoughts, eliminating the empty cold as quickly as it had manifested. “Nor does guilt become you my very old friend.”
Quinlan knew the voice, passionately. “Obi-wan.”
A chuckle quickly followed, “your path has not taken you from the core of who you’ve always been Quinlan.”
“Asking myself how ‘this’ is possible would be waste of time I am sure.” Quinlan responded in a mouthed whisper, cognizant of his position central to the active crew members behind him. “In conjunction with what I am sensing planet side that is.” Vos finished, despite the doors being thrown open to an entirely new procession of thoughts. The questions, he decided, would wait for another time knowing full well he was better served concluding his current line of mental digression. “Obi-wan...you cannot begin to understand the intricacies of Master Windu’s prowess, nor my own for that matter.” He began but hesitated for a moment as he closed his eyes and blew out his breath again, “not in some vain attempt to promote what I had become but considering what I had to sacrifice to pursue both your own and the counsel’s agendas. You cannot know the malice that lingers upon your soul, the hate that cleanses hope from your very mind and thoughts and the rage that lies within your heart any time the Dark Side manifests itself.” Quinlan was certain Obi-wan could not have ever known. “Master Windu understood it fully my friend. The intensity of his hateful focus would have brought about the end of this tyrannical Empire before it had even started if that same intensity had not blinded his trust in your former padawan.” Vos was certain the boldness of the statement would only be taken in the context in which it was delivered, “Obi-wan, I know that realm well, was almost lost to it myself….” He felt the sting and threat of tears pooling in the corners of both his eyes as his mind focused exclusively on the well cultivated memories he held intimately of Asajj. “If not for...her….and you my friend, my history would have read much differently.”
“Quinlan, do not waste the time you have now to venture down paths that could not be further from your current objective.” The whisper paused suddenly, and just as suddenly resumed, “It is my turn to say that I understand where that fruitless venture can lead, a position I would wish for no one.”
Vos opened his eyes as Obi-wan’s whispered advice echoed into extinction in his mind, “Obi-wan, Anakin’s apprentice is planet side, as is he….” Quinlan began, the whispered voice rushing into his mind once again.
“Do nothing Quinlan. Do nothing to interfere. She has already ignored my advice regarding Anakin’s destiny….and now the fate of the galaxy lies in the balance.”
Quinlan, although cognizant of the statement, knew the Togruta’s intentions couldn’t be farther from Obi-wan’s perception. “I do not think you understand at all what she is trying to achieve. She is facing Vader as we ‘speak’ but through no fault of her own. It is this planet Obi-wan. Why here?”
There was nothing but silence as his question resounded through his own mind, ‘to speak nothing of the target she has become, if even to herself it seems,’ he continued in thought alone as he glanced down at the hilt in his hand. For a moment he felt a wash of embarrassment flood him to his core as his thoughts had solemnly retreated initially toward his own lack of involvement, the associated guilt he wasn’t even aware he harbored, or any other self-motivated guises so far removed from Ahsoka’s purpose. “Obi-wan, why here? What does this mean?” He asked in his continuing hushed tone, whispering the questions as he raised the hilt closer for his own inspection.
The hum returned to its resonance within his own mind, a basis tone to which he focused his will and intent as he concentrated fully on any elusive connections the planet may yield to the actions upon it or the hilt in his hands that seemed to be central to an overall agenda he was unable to comprehend. “If Windu lives…..”
The hum ceased just as before, “nothing changes my friend.” Obi-wan responded. “If Windu lives, there is a reason he does not make himself known.” The voice continued before its echoes faded once again. Quinlan thought through the statement as he stared off toward the planet, an eye, central to the calling and sway the Force held, continued to swirl with visible movements, even from their altitude. A tempest of lightning arcing through its vastness, branching in all directions, backlit the plumage of brown and red dusts in a display of destruction rivaling celestial powers. He felt it odd to draw the comparison in relation to his connection with the Force but knew even that was no coincidence.
“Obi-wan, I know what I could have done in the past, but what more could I possibly do now?” Quinlan whispered, finding it more difficult to waylay the emotions that threatened to unhinge him, to drive him toward the unbalanced nature of his past.
“Quinlan.” Obi-wan began again, a soft gentle tone coupled with sincere passion, “you have no reason to harbor guilt nor remorse, leave that for those that truly deserve it. Look around you. You have been giving of yourself since the fall of the Republic Quinlan, even when the strongest among us had given up hope. If not for you and your efforts those around you would have not found the hope they needed to well the courage inside to follow you still.”
For the first time in his life Quinlan Vos was truly speechless as his mouth opened soundlessly, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes pulling downward as he fought the tears back from their threatening posts. The aged yellow tattoo that spanned his features from ear to ear drooping over the slackening skin of his cheeks as he began to lose the composure that had held him together for the better part of two decades. A squawking alarm peeled his attention away from the view beyond, the twisting nexus of unnatural storms, and into the flashing lights of the command deck behind him.
“Quinlan. Listen to Ahsoka, help her if you can but do not interfere.” Obi-wan’s voiced whisper advised, just loud enough to be heard over the clamor of the bridge deck alarms. Quinlan shot his hands out toward the acceleration grips inset into the canopy framework as Vomend shouted into the shipboard comm, “power down, power down…..” Vos’ attention was drawn fully into the present as he turned to witness the darkening of the entire deck, brave red lights providing the only illumination. “Brace, brace, brace….” Vomend continued with a renewed sense of authority. All sound faded as a brilliant ball of intense white instantly filled the view before them all, giving way to a vibrant green conglomeration eerily reminiscent of a collapsing star. Quinlan sensed they may have aligned themselves far too close to the Temple Garden as he watched the transitioning colors, the brilliant white pulling itself into the expanding greens around it, a vacuous state that left the impressions of equal parts dread and awe in their wake. He could sense the forthcoming vibrations before he could feel them, the siesmic after-effects they had all been warned about, hope egressing that the units on the planet’s surface were far enough removed from the blast. The wave slammed into the heavy freighter with enough force to skew it from its position and send riveting tremors through its skeletal structure. Several crew members that had not taken the General’s warnings truly to heart were tossed from their feet as ambled cries of pain mingled with rattling conduit and pinging rivets that had loosened themselves from their grip. The nature of the vessel stood true to its construction despite creaks of protest and warning as it held together valiantly through the seismic event with relaxing groans and fading emissions of metallic tension.
Quinlan wasn’t comfortable with his emotions as he regained his own composure, chancing a glance out toward the planet’s surface while he remained forthright with his steadfast hold on the grips. A sense of discombobulation mingled with the confronted emotions as the scene had changed significantly. He had to adjust his view to look off to the right, where the chaotic storm was ravaging the surface beneath only to find the maelstrom gone, snuffed from existence, the convergent paths of the natural Force with it. In its place was a radiating ring that consumed the air before it, leaving Ambria’s landscape below cloudless and barren.
Quinlan couldn’t stop the question from forming, nor the ability to keep it confined to thought alone, “what have we unleashed?”