Private A Place Once Called Home

[Balun Dashiell]

A PLACE ONCE CALLED HOME
Tag: Valery Noble

The day Lady Falentra—once known as Nouqai Veil, the girl who had grown up alongside Balun Dashiell within the New Jedi Order, his lifelong best friend and, in time, something far more intimate—reappeared after months of silence, everything changed. She arrived without warning, cloaked in shadows and the cold aura of the Sith, and placed a baby boy into the arms of Judah Dashiell . With solemn finality, she revealed the truth: the child was Balun's son. That single revelation set in motion a cascade of life-altering events—events Balun met not with denial or fear, but with a steady, solemn resolve. He took on fatherhood with an unshakable sense of duty and seriousness, rising to meet the challenge with the heart of someone determined to break the cycle that had shaped his own upbringing.

Life among the Dashiell family had been a blessing in ways Balun hadn't anticipated. He'd come to know the paternal side of his lineage—Judah, Makai, Myra, and the rest—and for the first time in years, he belonged to something real, something lasting. Under Judah's guidance, Balun had carved a place for himself not only in the family but in the galactic economy. He launched Dashiell Retrofit™, a subsidiary of Dashiell Incorporated™, dedicated to restoring and modernizing old ships, and eventually building new ones from the ground up. It hadn't been easy. Every credit earned came through perseverance and grit, but slowly, his vision had taken shape. Now, a shipyard in orbit of Kesh thrived under his direction, turning a steady profit and granting him a measure of financial independence. He was no longer just Balun Dashiell the former Jedi—he was a father, a businessman, and a Dashiell in full.

Yet for all the progress he had made, one shadow continued to loom over his future—Kellan's future. His son's mother had fallen completely to the Dark Side. The last time Balun saw her, she forced his hand in battle, igniting her saber against him in a bitter confrontation. He had bested her—nearly killed her, in fact—but let her go. Not out of weakness, but sorrow. The woman he had loved, the Nouqai Veil he had known, was gone—erased by the Sith Knight Falentra, a name he refused to speak even as it became her identity. She had crossed a line they both knew he could never accept: killing without cause. In that moment, Balun knew the divide between them could never be bridged.

He sat now before his personal terminal, the pale glow of the screen illuminating his frown. The template was blank, save for the recipient field, which bore a single name: Valery Noble , Jedi Master and head of the Jedi Council when Balun had left Coruscant behind seven years ago. Hesitation pulled at his fingers. He'd walked away from the Order without a word, certain then that the Jedi path wasn't his to follow. Still, the New Jedi Order had been the only home he'd known growing up, raising him from infancy when his own mother had vanished. They had done the same for Nouqai once, before she turned away.

And now there was Kellan.

Nouqai had always been an anomaly. Not just because of their bond or the fact that she had managed to crack through his defensive walls. She was something unique—an entirely unknown species, even to herself. In their teens, she uncovered the truth: she was a creation of the Sith, a being shaped by dark rituals and forbidden alchemy. A Sith-Spawn. How she had ended up in the Jedi Temple remained a mystery, but now Balun saw the implications with new clarity. Kellan, his son, was half Sith-Spawn—and that meant whatever struggles the Jedi had faced in raising Nouqai, he might soon face himself.

So, he reasoned, discomfort was a small price to pay. If there was even a chance that the Jedi could help prepare him to safeguard Kellan's future—his growth, his safety, his stability—then the risk was worth it.

With a deep breath, Balun began to type the message. A request for an audience with Master Noble. A return to Coruscant. A step toward the uncertain—but one he would take not for himself, but for his son.

CORUSCANT, THE JEDI TEMPLE
NPC'S: Kellan Dashiell & Vesha Daruun (x)
​

The Liberty's Edge broke through the upper atmosphere in a smooth descent, her hull gleaming in the sunlight as she aligned with the approach vector for the Jedi Temple. Upon receiving clearance to dock, Balun Dashiell eased the Clifford-Class Freighter gently into the designated hangar bay, its repulsors humming softly as it touched down with practised grace. It had been a while since he'd flown this ship—larger, sleeker, and far more refined than the utilitarian Nomad he used for his day-to-day work—but this visit was not business. This was something far more formal. He was meeting the Grandmaster of the New Jedi Order, Valery Noble, and the moment carried the weight of old bonds and uncertain futures.

The boarding ramp extended with a hydraulic hiss, and Balun stepped down into the hangar, framed in the light from the freighter's hold. His outfit marked him as a spacer—weathered fabrics, functional layers, and the distinct absence of his usual protective vest, signaling that he anticipated no danger here, not in the halls of the Jedi. Gone were the ceremonial robes of his youth; his attire now reflected the man he had become—seasoned, self-reliant, and worlds away from the boy who once trained in these very corridors.

At his hip hung a single weapon: his lightsaber, worn but well-maintained, the same one he had built years ago within this very Temple. The familiar weight was a quiet reassurance. His blaster, however, was conspicuously absent—the empty holster at his side a silent statement of respect. This was not a battlefield. He hoped it would never become one.

He did not arrive alone. Descending the ramp behind him was a tall Zabraki woman, Vesha Daruun, moving with a quiet dignity. In her arms, she carried an infant wrapped snugly in soft fabrics, his tiny form nestled against her chest. Her clothing, modest and practical, concealed much of her crimson skin, but her face was left uncovered—revealing the intricate black tattoos of her Jati, etched into her skin in bold lines. These cultural markings spoke of her passage into adulthood, a rite earned long ago when her crown of horns first emerged.

Though she looked every bit the strong and capable midwife—calm, composed, fiercely protective—there was something else, something more beneath the surface. The truth was hidden in plain sight: she was not truly alive in the organic sense. She was a Biot, a highly sophisticated artificial being engineered by Sasori. Yet her movements, the gentleness with which she cradled the child, the emotion in her eyes—it would be impossible for most to tell. She was loyalty given form, a guardian sculpted with precision and care.

And so, the trio stepped forward—Balun, the child he now called son, and the quiet sentinel who watched over them both—into the heart of the Jedi Temple. A place filled with memories, with history, and with the hope that perhaps, in its familiar halls, some insight could be found.

"Speech".
'Thought'.

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit | Wedding Ring
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers

The doors to slid open with a gentle hiss.

Valery stepped inside, her presence warm and composed.. The years had changed her — not in spirit, but in presence. There was strength in her stillness now, in the way she carried herself not only as a Jedi, but as a mother, a leader, and a woman who had weathered much and continued forward anyway. But the moment her eyes fell on the bundle in Vesha's arms, everything softened.

A smile bloomed instantly — real, radiant, and unmistakably maternal. Her gaze lingered on the small face nestled within the blankets, and whatever weight she might have carried into the room seemed to lift. "You must be Kellan," she said gently, her voice warm and soft as sunlit silk. She stepped forward slowly, so as not to disturb him, and offered a small nod of greeting to the Zabraki guardian before turning to Balun.

"Balun," she said, and it was clear there was no bitterness in her voice — only recognition of what he'd once been, and what he had clearly become. "It's been a long time. I wasn't sure when — or if — I'd see you here again." A pause. Her smile returned, tinged with understanding. "But I'm glad you're here. Truly."

Her amber eyes flicked back to the child again, a gentle twinkle in them. "He's beautiful," she said softly. "I've got a few little ones of my own at home… and no matter how many you hold, there's always something magical about meeting a new life for the first time."

After a moment, Valery gestured to the hallway behind her with a smile, "Do you want to talk somewhere more privately?" She looked at the child and midwife as well, "I have tea and some food too, if you're hungry."

Balun Dashiell ​

 

[Balun Dashiell]

A PLACE ONCE CALLED HOME
NPC'S: Kellan Dashiell & Vesha Daruun (x)
Tag: Valery Noble

​

Balun stood back, a quiet smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched Grandmaster Valery Noble approach Vesha Daruun and the infant cradled in her arms—his son, Kellan Dashiell . There was a subtle shift in the way he saw her now, something different than the reverent awe he'd once felt as a child. Time had changed his perspective, matured it, and in this moment, with her posture softening and her expression warming at the sight of a baby, he saw not just a Jedi Master or a leader of the Order—but a person, kind and deeply human beneath the discipline.

Kellan cooed softly, his wide, curious eyes fixed on the unfamiliar face before him. He was every bit his mother's child in appearance, a reflection of her exotic lineage. His features held an aquatic grace—his small, rounded face framed by a mop of messy, dark hair that clearly came from the Dashiell side. But above his brow, faint juvenile tendrils had begun to grow, delicate and curling like sea grass in a gentle current. His skin shimmered where the light touched it, a stunning blend of deep blues and soft purples that gave the illusion of scales, though his touch was soft and warm. The iridescent pigments caught the light with every movement, making him seem as though he belonged to the ocean's depths rather than the stars.

In that moment, as Balun watched the leader of the Jedi bend ever so slightly, her presence humbled by something as simple and pure as new life, he felt the weight of legacy stir within him. The past, the future, and everything in between seemed to converge around the small child cradled in Vesha's arms.

"I came to fight during the Dark Empire's invasion," Balun said, his tone measured but sincere. "I've visited a few old friends here and there, but nothing that should warrant the attention of a Council Member, Master Noble."

As her full attention settled on him, Balun dipped his head in a respectful bow, the kind instilled in him through years of Jedi training—formal, precise, and rooted in reverence. Whatever paths he had taken since leaving, this place and its traditions still stirred something familiar in him.

"I do appreciate your agreeing to meet with me," he added, lifting his gaze to meet hers, his voice softening. A faint, almost sheepish smile crept onto his lips, edged with apology. "Especially considering my history."

That history hung between them like an echo—one shaped by silence and distance. He remembered all too well the way he'd left the Order: quietly, without ceremony, slipping away at fifteen with nothing but a brief farewell to Nouqai. He hadn't spoken to his instructors, hadn't left word for the Knights who'd spent years shaping his path, protecting him. He'd simply vanished, a boy not yet grown, burdened with uncertainty and desperate for something the Jedi couldn't give him. Looking back now, he could only imagine the worry he'd caused.

When Valery mentioned moving somewhere more private, Balun gave a small nod, his demeanour shifting subtly—still respectful, but firmer now, more grounded. "Somewhere private would be perfect, certainly," he said, his voice carrying a quiet confidence. Whatever conversation lay ahead, it was not one for curious ears or casual passersby.

He let a breath pass, then quirked a brow and added, "I'd hate to make it too easy for the younglings to have something to gossip about."

The comment was light, a gentle attempt to ease the weight in the air between them. It was also, in a way, a bridge—between who he had been and who he was now.

"Speech".
'Thought'.

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit | Wedding Ring
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers

Valery's expression softened even more at Balun's gentle jest, and she let out a quiet laugh as she began to lead the way down the corridor.

"Oh, trust me — they'll find something to gossip about no matter what we do," she said, glancing over her shoulder with a playful smirk. "Especially the teens. They're worse than Council reports when it comes to knowing everything that happens around here."

Her pace was slow and unhurried, letting Vesha follow easily with the baby. The hallways were quiet at this hour — the kind of stillness that only ever came to the Temple when most of its younger occupants had finally exhausted themselves for the night. The deeper they moved into the quiet wing of the Temple, the more peaceful it became — a sanctuary not just of walls, but of intention.

Valery paused outside a simple but warmly lit sitting room — her own quarters, modest but full of personality. A soft couch, a low table already set with a teapot and a few mugs, some holopads scattered to one side, and the unmistakable scent of freshly baked bread still lingering faintly in the air. One of her kids must have been sneaking in snacks again.

She gestured for them to come in and settle where they liked.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable," she said as she moved to pour tea. Her every movement was instinctual now — the kind of hospitality born from years of managing both war councils and toddlers. Once the cups were filled and offered, Valery eased herself into a nearby chair and drew one leg up beneath her, posture relaxed and open.

"For what it's worth," she said, turning her gaze to Balun, "Your history isn't something I hold against you. We all leave for our own reasons. Sometimes the Order can't give us what we need, and sometimes… we don't know what we're looking for until we step away from it."

She sipped her tea, her eyes drifting briefly to Kellan, who was still tucked safely in Vesha's arms.

"And sometimes life brings us back in ways we never expect." She tilted her head slightly, studying him with a quiet fondness. "You're not the same boy who left. That much is clear. You're standing here with purpose. With a family. There is strength in that." A beat of silence passed, then her lips curved with a faint smile.

"So… what would you like to talk about first?" Her tone remained gentle, but her attention had sharpened — fully present, ready for whatever truths or uncertainties he had come to share.

Balun Dashiell ​

 

[Balun Dashiell]

A PLACE ONCE CALLED HOME
NPC'S: Kellan Dashiell & Vesha Daruun (x)
Tag: Valery Noble

​

"It doesn't feel all that long ago that I was skulking around the Temple halls, fishing for any scrap of information I could get about the missions the older students and Jedi Knights were returning from—or preparing for," Balun said with a half-smirk, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as memories stirred. His eyes softened, distant for a moment, as though he could still see himself there—just a boy, eager to know what was happening beyond the Temple walls, craving a taste of the wider galaxy.

He chuckled faintly at the thought. "I was always curious. Restless. But I'm still grateful for the training I received. The lessons. Even if I pushed back against the Order's way of life, it gave me more than I knew at the time."

He paused, the smirk fading into something more solemn. His gaze shifted, no longer caught in nostalgia, but in quiet reflection.

"I've had a lot of time to think since then," he admitted, his voice low, sincere. "The Jedi… I still think of them as a second family. That never changed." His fingers curled slightly around the rim of the tea cup he held. "Back then, my behavior... it wasn't anyone's fault but my own. I was angry. Resentful that my mother left me behind. That I'd been given to the Jedi instead of raised by someone who wanted me. I didn't feel like I truly belonged anywhere."

A breath slipped from him, more confession than exhale.

"It wasn't until my father found me that I began to feel... whole. Like a piece of myself that I never knew was missing had finally been returned."

There was a hesitation in his voice—apprehension laced into his words like a splinter. Speaking such things aloud, especially to someone like Grandmaster Noble—someone he'd only known from a distance, through occasional lessons or announcements—was no small thing.

"What I'm trying to say," he continued carefully, "is that I needed to leave when I did. But it wasn't a rejection of the New Jedi Order. It never was."

As they moved into the sitting room, Balun blinked in surprise. The space wasn't at all what he'd anticipated. Instead of the cold austerity he had expected from such a formal meeting, the room felt warm, inviting—personal. He took it in with a soft laugh.

"This is... comfortable," he said with a hint of amusement, the tension easing just a touch. He motioned for Vesha Daruun to settle into one of the couches with Kellan, the Zabraki midwife sitting gracefully and drawing the infant close in her arms. The boy stirred slightly, a shimmering hand peeking from the folds of his wrap.

Balun took his own seat nearby, accepting the offered cup of tea with a nod of gratitude and a small, genuine smile. He leaned back slowly, mindful not to spill the drink, and waited until Valery joined him before speaking again.

"You're right," he said, picking up the thread of their conversation. "A lot's happened in the last seven years."

His voice carried the weight of lived experience now.

"I started on the lower levels of Coruscant. On my own. Learning, surviving, figuring out who I was without the Order. For a while, I worked with some... interesting types." He offered a knowing glance, then continued. "Later, I joined the Tingel Arm Coalition. Fought alongside them during the war with the Empire of the Lost. And somewhere along the line, I found myself dueling a Sith Lord—trying to rescue someone I thought I could still save."

He stopped, the name catching in his throat. Nouqai.

He looked down briefly, fingers tightening around the cup.

"It's Nouqai Veil who's the reason I came here today," he said at last, lifting his gaze to meet Valery's. "I don't know if you'd remember her by name, but she was here. A student. Like me—no parents. Taken in around the same time."

He exhaled slowly.

"Her Master was Grrwunhoool, a Wookiee. He lied about her during a mission. Said she had been killed, rather than the truth that she had defected to the Sith, fearing the shame. Disgraced himself, and later joined the Lightsworn. If none of that stands out... she was Sith-Spawn."

The words hung heavy in the air, not said with malice but certainty—spoken by someone who had come to understand the truth far too late.

"She's also Kellan's Mother".

"Speech".
'Thought'.

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit | Wedding Ring
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers

Valery had gone quiet.

Not out of discomfort — far from it. But the name had struck something. A ripple in the calm surface of her memory, drawing her back through the years. Back to the Temple. Back to a conversation with a Wookiee Master whose sorrow had been so heavy, even the walls had seemed to absorb it. She let Balun finish, her expression composed, tea cradled in both hands, but her eyes softened the longer she watched him. When he said Nouqai's name — when he said Sith-spawn — she didn't flinch. She only nodded.

"I remember her," Valery said quietly, her voice more silk than steel now. "Both her and her Master." She exhaled a slow breath, then set her tea aside and looked at Balun again — truly looked at him.

Valery then leaned forward just slightly, one arm resting on the edge of the couch. She didn't push with questions. Didn't prod at wounds still healing. But her warmth remained steady — not as Grandmaster, but as someone who had seen and held many difficult truths.

"I take it you're telling me all of this because you're worried," she said. Not judgmental. Just clear. "About what it means for your son." Her gaze flicked briefly to the child in Vesha's arms — that soft, shimmering skin and tiny curled hand. So new to the galaxy, so unaware of what histories might already be clinging to his name.

"I understand why," Valery added gently. "But you should know this — what matters most is not where he comes from. It's the love he's shown. The values he's raised in. The family who stands by him." A pause. Then a faint, knowing smile crept onto her lips.

"And from the way you're sitting there, speaking about him, bringing him here, showing up for him like this?" She tilted her head and offered a gentle smile, "He already has everything that matters to become a good person." She leaned back again, letting silence linger for a beat — comfortable, not heavy. Then, softer:

"But I don't want to dismiss any concerns you have. So, what can I do for you, Balun?"

Balun Dashiell ​

 

[Balun Dashiell]

A PLACE ONCE CALLED HOME
NPC'S: Kellan Dashiell & Vesha Daruun (x)
Tag: Valery Noble

​

"Nail on the proverbial head, Master Noble," Balun said with a single nod, his tone confirming what her intuition had already uncovered. His presence here, his decision to reach out to her specifically—it all hinged on the truth she had just touched upon.

He appreciated her kindness more than words could easily express. Valery's sentiment didn't go unnoticed. In fact, it stirred something deep within him. Few people had ever truly understood Nouqai Veil. Fewer still had known her as he had—side by side since childhood, both of them outcasts in their own way, drawn together by shared circumstance and something far deeper. Their connection had been unshakable once, forged unknowingly into a Force-Bond that neither of them had meant to create. But then she had shut him out. Completely. As though she had found some method to sever even the intangible. That alone had told him how far she had fallen, how utterly she had become someone else.

What remained of her was not the girl he had loved. Not the friend who had once sworn they'd never be alone so long as they had each other. She was someone entirely different now. Falentra. Sith Knight. Betrayer of everything he thought she was. And if that kind of transformation was possible—if even a Force-Bond could be shattered—then nothing was off the table. Ignorance and complacency weren't just dangerous—they were deadly. Especially now.

"I never completed my training," Balun admitted, voice steady but honest. "I was never knighted. Never even formally assigned a Master. But since then, I've learned a great deal about resisting the pull of the Dark Side. A lot of it's been trial and error, I won't pretend otherwise. But when it comes to raising Kellan… I believe I can guide him. I believe I can help him walk in the Light."

He took a breath, letting it settle before continuing. His eyes searched Valery's, not with challenge, but with earnest curiosity.

"My questions today are less about myself—and more about her. About Nouqai. When she was here, what did the Order see? Were there signs, even then? Did she struggle more than the others with the Dark Side? Was it her origin that made her vulnerable? I need to know if there's anything I should be watching for in Kellan… anything that may echo in him as he grows."

His voice dipped into something quieter—more intimate, almost confessional.

"After I left the Order, I crossed paths with her again. It was on Eriadu. That's when she told me the truth. How she failed the Trial of the Spirit. What really happened with her Master. And how she met the one who took her down that path— Darth Malum of House Marr "

He let the name linger in the space between them, heavy and sharp like a blade unsheathed. His voice softened.

"I've encountered Malum before. Not in combat—but I've felt his presence. Once, he possessed Nouqai, tried to use her as a vessel to tear her away from me. He saw me as a threat. Not because I was strong—but because my presence reminded her of who she used to be. Of everything the Sith wanted to strip away."

He paused, letting the weight of that truth settle, and then continued.

"It wasn't Malum I fought, though. That was Darth Strosius and his apprentice. Another attempt to rescue her. Another failure. They were Sith of a different ideology—cutthroat, merciless. They were planning to execute her for some betrayal she'd supposedly committed. I don't even know what the charge was anymore"

His shoulders slumped slightly—not in weakness, but in weariness. The kind earned over years of walking through fire, again and again.

"I know it's probably obvious," he said at last, gesturing subtly toward the infant in Vesha's arms, "but I've walked in a lot of different circles since leaving the Jedi. Some darker than others. And yet, I never lost faith in the Light. Not once. That's something I hold onto. Something I refuse to give up."

He gave Valery a small, almost embarrassed smile.

"Nowadays, I'm more careful about who I surround myself with. For reasons that should be pretty clear."

His gaze drifted to Kellan—his son, his legacy, his greatest vulnerability and his strongest reason to keep moving forward.

"I've learned a lot. But when it's your kid… no amount of knowledge ever feels like enough, does it?" He exhaled, shaking his head with a rueful smile. "You can be as prepared as possible—and still feel like you're walking a tightrope."

"Speech".
'Thought'.

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit | Wedding Ring
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers

Valery's gaze didn't waver as Balun spoke. She listened the way only someone who truly understood could — not just to the words, but to the weight behind them. The confessions. The fears. The quiet, stubborn hope woven through all of it. When he finished, she leaned forward just slightly again, resting her arms on her knees. Her expression remained open and thoughtful, her voice gentle — but never uncertain.

"Nouqai wasn't with us for very long," she said, confirming it quietly. "But that doesn't really matter. We've had Jedi spend a decade under our roof, with all the right lessons, all the support we can offer — and they still fall. Just like some who barely get a year with us go on to become the brightest lights in the galaxy."

She smiled faintly, then tilted her head.

"Every soul is different. Every path, every temptation, every wound — it shapes how a person sees the galaxy. What pulls them. What scares them. For some, it's power. For others, belonging. Or the belief that they're broken, and the Dark offers the illusion of control."

Her voice softened even more.

"It's not always about origin. It's not necessarily about being Sithspawn or human or anything else. The Force doesn't judge us by our blood. And the darkness doesn't care what we are — only what it can exploit."

She followed his gaze toward the child in Vesha's arms.

"But Kellan has something Nouqai didn't. He has you. Someone who loves him. Someone who's been to the edge and clawed his way back. You've walked paths that most Jedi only study from a distance. You know how tempting the dark can be — and more importantly, you know how to resist it."

Valery's expression warmed, but stayed firm.

"That's more than enough to guide him."

She sat back again, her tone gentler now.

"And if you ever doubt that — if you ever feel like you're walking that tightrope blind — then reach out. To me. To the Order. To whoever you trust with it." A soft smile touched her lips again.

"We'll always help you."

Balun Dashiell ​

 

[Balun Dashiell]

A PLACE ONCE CALLED HOME
NPC'S: Kellan Dashiell & Vesha Daruun (x)
Tag: Valery Noble

​

At first, Balun's instinct was to correct Master Noble—a quiet flicker of reflex at her suggestion that Nouqai's time in the Jedi Temple had been brief. In truth, she and Balun had been raised side by side within the Order. They had trained together, grown together, laughed and suffered together under the same roof and stars. To him, Nouqai had never been a fleeting presence—she had been constant. Integral.

But then, he paused. Considered. Master Noble was the Grandmaster of the New Jedi Order, responsible for overseeing not only students, but a galaxy-spanning web of Knights, Padawans, and Masters coming and going from the Temple at all hours, through all years. What was deeply personal to Balun could easily be one of thousands of threads in the greater tapestry she held together. It was no grave error—just a small misstep when viewed against the magnitude of everything else she had said. And so, he let it go.

He listened instead. Listened to the way she spoke of the Jedi—those who lived and died in the service of the Light, and those who left, only to continue serving the Force in their own ways. There was compassion in her voice, not judgment. Understanding rather than condemnation. And in that, Balun found a surprising sense of reassurance.

Perhaps he hadn't failed as completely as he'd always feared. Perhaps walking a path apart didn't make him less. Perhaps, despite everything, he was still a servant of the Light.

He thought back to the offers he had once been given. The first had come early, barely a year after he left the Order. A rogue veteran, Julius Sedaire—grizzled, half-drunk, haunted—had extended an apprenticeship. Balun had been electrified at the idea. But that spark became months of waiting, hoping, only for nothing to come of it. Julius had his demons, his reasons. Balun held no bitterness. But the missed opportunity had set him back.

More recently, there had been another offer—this time from Master Nox. But it came with a price. An ultimatum Balun couldn't accept. He would not turn his back on those he trusted. On friends and allies. And now, here he was, speaking to one of them.

"This life is never simple for us, is it?" Balun said softly. The remark may have seemed disconnected from Valery's words, but it wasn't—not really. It was simply the point where all the threads tied together. The complexity of their choices. The burdens they carried.

His gaze shifted to Kellan, still sleeping soundly in Vesha's arms. But even in slumber, the boy was the center of Balun's gravity—his reason, his weight, his fear.

What would the Force cost him?

Would Kellan one day feel the same emptiness Balun had wrestled with? That aching sense of something unfinished, untamed? Would his gifts lead him down difficult roads—roads of loneliness, strained relationships, suspicion from others? Would he suffer not because he was broken, but because he was born with something that set him apart?

Balun swallowed the knot forming in his throat and spoke again, his voice low and raw.

"I don't look forward to the day he asks me about his mother."

He didn't look at Valery as he said it. He kept his eyes on Kellan, as if his son's peaceful breathing might anchor him in the storm of emotion beneath the surface.

"He clearly doesn't get his aquatic features from me," he added with a small, humorless smile. "But I don't know what I'll tell him when the time comes."

His voice faltered, trailing off for a moment.

"There's nothing left of the Nouqai I knew… not in what she's become."

He didn't finish the thought aloud—but it lingered in the air between them. The unspoken truth. That it would be easier to tell Kellan she was dead. A lie, yes—but a lie that could shield him. Protect him from the pain of knowing he'd been abandoned. From the danger of ever seeking her out. From her—from Falentra.

And that, Balun thought bitterly, was the tragedy of it all. That love had once bound them so tightly, and now, the truth might only cause their son harm.

"Speech".
'Thought'.