Merrin and Cal - A Made up Love story

The Fire of Jedha

The wind howled across the desolate sands of Jedha, carrying with it whispers of the Force. Cal Kestis adjusted his poncho, its edges fraying from weeks of relentless travel. Beside him, Merrin, her Nightsister cloak billowing like shadowed wings, moved with an eerie grace. She didn't seem to notice the biting cold of the desert night.

They stood on the edge of a massive chasm, its depths hidden in darkness. Below, the faint glimmer of ancient ruins promised secrets lost to the galaxy for centuries. Cal sensed the weight of history pressing down on them. The Force was alive here—angry, desperate, and fractured.

"Are you sure about this?" Cal asked, his voice muffled by the wind. He glanced at Merrin, whose pale face was illuminated by the twin moons. Her eyes, vibrant with the green fire of Dathomirian magick, were fixed on the abyss below.

"You doubt me, Jedi?" she replied with a teasing smirk, though her tone carried an edge.

"Not you. Never you," Cal said, softening his voice. "But this place...it feels wrong."

Merrin's gaze shifted to him, her expression unreadable. "The Force whispers warnings to you. And yet, here you stand."

Cal nodded. He couldn't deny it. Something about Jedha had called to him ever since they had touched down. The galaxy was a chaotic web of darkness and light, but Jedha's energy felt twisted, scarred by centuries of war and faith. It was the kind of place that drew out the worst in people.

"It's dangerous, Merrin," he said, watching her step closer to the edge. "I don't want to lose you."

She turned to him, her lips curling into a faint smile. "You won't. But if you fear for me, Cal Kestis, perhaps you forget who I am."

Cal chuckled despite himself. She was right, of course. Merrin was no fragile flower. She was a Nightsister of Dathomir, a survivor of horrors that would have broken most. Still, that didn't make the worry any less real.

"I know who you are," he said. "I just... care about you."

Merrin paused, the wind tugging at her cloak. Her usual sharp retorts faded, replaced by something softer. "And I care about you," she admitted. "That is why we must do this together."

Before Cal could respond, Merrin raised her hand, and the green glow of her magick illuminated the darkness below. Shadows danced like specters as the ruins came into view—a labyrinth of shattered temples and crumbling statues. At the center of it all, a spire rose, its peak wreathed in an unnatural green light.

"That's it," Merrin said, her voice reverent. "The artifact lies within."

Cal followed her gaze, his chest tightening. The artifact—an ancient Nightsister relic—had been the reason they came to Jedha. Merrin believed it could help her channel her magick in new ways, but Cal had sensed something darker in its presence.

"Let's get this over with," he said, igniting his lightsaber. The blue blade cast a reassuring glow around them as they began their descent into the ruins.

The air grew heavier as they moved deeper into the temple. Cal could feel the Force pulsing, a mixture of anger and sorrow that clawed at his mind. Beside him, Merrin moved with quiet determination, her magick illuminating their path.

"Stay close," Cal whispered.

"Do you think I would wander off?" Merrin replied, her voice light. "I leave the reckless heroics to you."

Cal shot her a look, but he couldn't help but smile. Even in the face of danger, Merrin's sharp wit was unshakable. It was one of the things he loved about her.

As they approached the central chamber, the green light grew brighter, almost blinding. The artifact sat atop a stone pedestal, its surface etched with intricate runes that seemed to writhe under their gaze.

Merrin stepped forward, her hand outstretched. The magick in the air reacted to her presence, swirling like a living thing.

"Wait," Cal said, gripping her arm. "We don't know what this will do."

She turned to him, her expression resolute. "I must know, Cal. This is my path."

He hesitated, his grip tightening. "You don't have to do it alone."

Merrin studied him for a long moment before nodding. "Together, then."

They approached the artifact as one, Merrin's magick intertwining with the hum of Cal's lightsaber. The energy around them surged, and for a moment, it felt as though the galaxy itself held its breath.

When Merrin's fingers touched the artifact, the chamber erupted in a blinding light. Cal staggered back, his mind assaulted by visions—shattered memories of the Nightsisters, of battles fought and lost, of Merrin alone on a desolate Dathomir.

"Merrin!" he shouted, reaching for her.

She stood at the center of the storm, her form wreathed in green fire. The artifact pulsed with power, and for a terrifying moment, Cal thought it might consume her. But then she turned to him, her eyes blazing with a fierce determination.

"I am not afraid," she said, her voice echoing with magick. "And neither should you be."

Cal stepped forward, his hand finding hers. The storm began to subside, the artifact's glow dimming until it was little more than a faint shimmer. The chamber fell silent, the oppressive energy lifting like a weight from their shoulders.

Merrin swayed, and Cal caught her, his arms steady around her. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

She nodded, leaning into him. "I am more than okay," she said, her voice soft. "I am free."

They stayed like that for a moment, the ruins around them silent witnesses to their bond. Cal felt the Force settling, no longer twisted but balanced. And for the first time in a long while, he felt at peace.

As they emerged from the temple, the first rays of dawn painted the horizon in hues of gold and crimson. Merrin looked at Cal, her smile faint but genuine.

"You were right," she said. "About facing this together."

Cal grinned, his hand brushing against hers. "I'll remind you of that next time."

She rolled her eyes but didn't pull away. As the sun rose over the sands of Jedha, they walked side by side, two survivors finding strength in each other—and in the promise of what lay ahead.