The training platform was quiet, save for the wind whistling gently across the high cliffside. Cerys stood still, shoulders squared, arms folded tightly across her chest, as Brandyn paced in slow circles nearby—his own presence surprisingly grounded, it almost shocked her.
“It’s not about vanishing, Cerys. It’s about letting your presence fade,” Brandyn said, turning to face her. “Think of your connection to the Force as a song. Concealment means lowering the volume, not turning it off.”
Cerys narrowed her eyes. “I don’t need analogies. Just show me how it’s done.”
Brandyn’s smile was faint, infuriatingly so. “If I could just show you, I would. But this—this you have to feel.”
She exhaled sharply through her nose and closed her eyes, trying once more. Her montrals trembled as she concentrated, lekku twitching in irritation as she reached inward, toward the pulse of the Force that was always so bright, so loud within her.
Then—nothing.
Or rather, too much. She snapped her eyes open. “I can’t mute what I am,” she muttered, frustration biting through her normally level tone.
“You can.” His tone remained calm—infuriatingly so. “You just don’t want to.”
That stung. Her jaw tensed. Her posture shifted ever so slightly—guarded.
She tried again.
This time, she poured more effort into it, pushing against the Force, trying to silence it by sheer will. It resisted, flared up. Her montrals vibrated with the intensity, a warning bell inside her own head. She dropped the attempt with a scowl, the flush of failure warm across her cheekbones.
“This is pointless.”
“It’s only pointless if you stop trying.” Brandyn took a step forward. “This isn’t about control. It’s about trust. You’re not suppressing yourself. You’re letting go of your need to be felt.”
Cerys rolled her eyes, turning her back on him for a moment. That—of all things—was what grated the most. Letting go. Of control. Of discipline. Of presence.
She hated how much that reminded her of kindness. Of vulnerability. She hated that it worked for him.
Still… she tried again. This time, she didn't crush the flame. She simply covered it. Shielded it. Let the presence of the Force ripple out as a whisper instead of a shout.
She disappeared.
Not in form, but in feeling.
She circled silently, keeping her body low, movements soft. Her montrals focused forward, but the way they stopped vibrating told her something had changed.
Brandyn didn’t turn. He stood at the edge of the platform, gaze fixed on the horizon.
Step by step, she approached. Silent. Shadowed. Masked.
Her hand reached out, nearly brushing the edge of his robe—
“Got you.”
Brandyn turned at last, raising an eyebrow, a hint of approval in his eyes. But he said nothing more. He didn’t mention that, just before she’d vanished from his senses, he had deliberately softened his awareness—just enough to give her the opening.
She needed a win.
“It felt… different,” she said, stepping back. “Not like muting a song. More like—hiding a candle in deep water.”
Brandyn gave a nod. “Then that’s how it works for you.”
She didn’t respond right away. But a small shift in her stance—the way her shoulders lowered, her breath steadied—betrayed a thread of satisfaction she wouldn’t voice aloud.
At least not yet.
OUTFIT: Silver-blue training gear | EQUIPMENT: Lightsabers – Vowsake & Dyn’s Mercy
