Unsettled/Disillusioned

Chapter 28: the Excuse

"Hmm, should have known it was you," the sharp voice of San Dersen greeted Kanan once the turbolift reached the top of the shaft and the doors slid open. "Cal's meditating," they warned, assuming Kanan's intentions, "he shouldn't be disturbed."

Kanan resisted the urge to smirk and roll his eyes. He knew it could be dangerous to rouse a Jedi from meditation instead of letting them ease out of that state, especially considering how volatile Cal had been acting lately. But at the edge of his senses he could feel Cal's nebula swirling darkly, and he needed to know what his friend wasn't telling him. Dersen stepped out of the way as Kanan marched forward, tugged along by the faint bond he had with the ginger Jedi, the smooth walkways under his feet were the only things that felt simple up here.

Kanan found himself in a wide empty room, like an auditorium. In the middle of the room there was a strange song. The air buzzed with a haunting, tense energy. Cal knelt on the floor in not-so-quiet meditation, BD-1 was sat by Cal, as he always was and offered Kanan a series of curious beeps. Cal chanted names under his breath, but around his head like a halo was a blinding, searing light. Kanan swore he could see it, burnt into his retinas like how a sun could push through the black of eyelids. It looked like there was a tear in the fabric of reality itself.

"Masana Tide, Taron Malicos, Trilla Suduri, Katooni Hack, Ren Vicrul," the words came out of Cal's mouth, low, measured and cold. Kanan didn't understand why each syllable sent a shiver down his spine, "Rayvis, Dagen Gera, Bode Akuna, Reva Sevander, Bymph Driskal," he stopped in his tracks at the sound of a familiar set of names. He couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from falling off his face like dropping down a cliff.

"Cal," Kanan called quietly and hesitantly, he reached out for Cal's shoulder with his hand.

And then Kanan's world was swallowed by a flash of white light. He'd forgotten to count the seconds, lost track of time until his vision settled into colour.

And suddenly the sound of lightsabers clashing against each other was sharp in his ears. He wanted to move his legs but couldn't. His body wouldn't move.

Then he saw it.

There was a grey-skinned and silver-haired man in golden Jedi robes of the High Republic style, he was wielding a red lightsaber against the ginger-haired Jedi Kanan thought he'd remembered from the Temple. Green eyes, freckles like stars. He had quite a few scars on his face, cutting across his nose, eyebrow, lips. A burn on his cheek and neck, so deep it had affected the growth of his beard. Signs of a life of fighting. And Cal fought ferociously against the silver-haired man, matching the crimson red lightsaber staff with his own double-blade, or a pair of dual blades or a greatsword... Even as Dagen summoned illusions to his side, Cal faced the challenge head on. Even with his ascension cable, his Dathomirian charm and his blaster, Cal's greatest weapon was still his adaptive lightsaber. Cal's unique lightsaber changed shape to meet different attacks with efficiency and fury and— Kanan felt cold as his mind registered the colour of the blade in Cal's hands.

When they were kids, Cal brandished his bold cerulean lightsaber for the other initiates somewhat shyly, having been one of the first in their age group to have forged a lightsaber, but proud of the achievement nonetheless. A year prior, he and Cal had crossed sabers, blue to green. And it was probably the most fun and excitement he'd had sparring in a long time.

But this time...

Kanan wanted to look away from Cal's hands. But he couldn't.

Kanan felt he was going to be sick. But he couldn't move.

Cal and the silver-haired man met again, something in the back corners of his mind provided 'Dagen Gera' as the fallen Jedi. With a scream, Dagen slashed at Cal. Cal defended himself. Each time their blades met they screamed, burned. And Kanan felt dread as their lightsabers spat stars and fire each time they crashed against one another.