First Reply A Return to the Temple | The Weight of History

[Ilaria Morvayne]

Opening Post – "The Weight of History"

Chapter One - A Return to the Temple
OPEN

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Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Jedi Archives – Midday

The midday sun cast its golden glow through the towering windows of the Jedi Archives, illuminating rows upon rows of meticulously arranged holobooks and data terminals. The soft hum of ancient knowledge surrounded Ilaria Morvayne, but she found no solace in it.

She sat alone at one of the long durasteel tables, posture poised yet rigid, her emerald gaze fixed on the flickering display of a holobook that had yet to yield anything of value. The text scrolled past her, recounting the grand history of Coruscant—its rise as the Republic's capital, its wars, its reconstruction, its endless evolution and its modern form under the banner of the Galactic Alliance. Yet nowhere in these records did she find the answer she sought.

Nowhere did it say when the Jedi had changed.

She exhaled slowly, her breath barely disturbing the stillness of the archives. It was unlike her to grow frustrated, yet there was a tension beneath the surface—an unease she could not quite name.

For as long as she could remember, she had followed the Code with clarity. At the Jedi Enclave, the path had been clear: discipline, mastery, control. The Force was to be wielded with precision, not given freely to impulse or attachment. A Jedi was to rely on their training, their knowledge, and their own unwavering discipline.

And yet, here, that was not the way.

The New Jedi Order spoke of bonds, of friendship, of relying on one another. They encouraged attachment, not as a weakness but as a strength. They placed faith in those around them rather than learning to shoulder the burden themselves.

And Ilaria feared what that meant for her.

She had worked too hard, trained too diligently, to let herself falter now. And yet… she felt it. The subtle shift, the temptation to allow herself to soften, to relax the edges of the discipline that had shaped her.

She had to understand.

The holobook flickered as she turned another page, but it was the same as the last. A chronicle of facts, but no clarity. No answer to the question she truly sought:

When did the Jedi stop being what they were?

Or was the Enclave...

Wrong?

Her fingers curled against the cool surface of the table, and for the first time in years, she felt something unfamiliar.

Doubt.

The archives were silent save for the faint hum of distant voices—Padawans discussing philosophy, Knights exchanging insights. She should have joined them, perhaps. Should have adapted, as the Jedi here expected her to.

But she did not come here to be changed.

She came here to understand.

Understand where it had all gone so...

Wrong.

And she would not leave without an answer.

​

 

[Dillon Kai'el]

Coruscant
Tags: Ilaria Morvayne

​

"You know, staring anxiously at records won't make them give you any answers."

Dillon Kai'el stood nearby, not to far from the Padawan's table, slotting a record back into its place on the shelf. His stance was casual, perhaps even a bit off putting. It was almost like he was in an entirely different place, not an archive. The elder Kai'el was searching for something of his own, something of far less gravity: A location. Needless to say, his instincts as a Master made the air of uncertainty around the Padawan stick out like a sore thumb. A gentle smile played across his face, one filled with whimsy as opposed to any sort of executive-style composure.

"Context in the past is valid, but one must be able to see where the reflections of the present can be observed within it," Dillon noted. "I'm sure you'll come to some terrible, world-ending conclusion. We often wind up manifesting our fears when we approach study with an upset mind, I find. The more that appears to correlate and confirm those fears, the more we let our minds spiral into dispare and doubt. A bit of a rough one, that cycle. Not a fan, must say. In fact, my professional experience finds that it should probably be avoided."

The ancient Master's soft smile quirked up into a playful grin.

"But then again, seven thousand years has made me old and senile," he shrugged. "I could very well be crazy."

 

[Ilaria Morvayne]

Post #2 – "The Weight of History"

Chapter One - A Return to the Temple
Dillon Kai'el

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Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Jedi Archives – Midday

Ilaria did not startle at the voice that broke the stillness of the archives, though she did glance up—more out of reflex than acknowledgment. The man who had spoken was nearby, replacing a record on the shelf with a movement that was far too nonchalant for the sanctity of this place. His stance, his tone—it all felt… misaligned with the solemnity of the Jedi Archives. As if he did not quite belong here, and yet had no trouble making himself at home.

Her emerald gaze flickered over him with quiet scrutiny. Older, certainly, though she could not immediately place his rank. He carried no air of formality, none of the measured composure of the Masters she had encountered since arriving at the Temple. Instead, there was something whimsical about him, something that, on first impression, seemed entirely at odds with the wisdom his words suggested.

She did not recognize him.

Ilaria straightened slightly, folding her hands neatly on the table.

"Seven thousand years?"

She considered the claim. Absurd, certainly. But the man had said it with such ease, such casual amusement, that she could not entirely dismiss it as the ramblings of someone seeking attention.

It was a puzzle.

But she was not here for puzzles.

"I am not anxious," she said, her voice even, measured. "Nor am I looking for something as dramatic as a 'world-ending conclusion.'"

She exhaled slowly, her gaze drifting from him back to the holobook in front of her.

"I am searching for clarity," she continued. "History does not change based on one's emotions. It is constant. Fixed. If I find nothing of value, then the fault lies not in my mindset, but in the information available."

Her tone was not sharp, but there was an edge of certainty to it—certainty that she could not afford to let slip. The last thing she needed was some wayward Jedi suggesting that her doubts were the result of misplaced fear rather than reason.

She hesitated, only briefly, before adding, "And if you are actually seven thousand years old, Master…?"

A pause.

She let the question hang, implicit but not fully formed. Who was he?

And why did he care what she was searching for?

​

 

[Dillon Kai'el]

Coruscant
Tags: Ilaria Morvayne

​

"History does not change based on one's emotions. It is constant. Fixed. If I find nothing of value, then the fault lies not in my mindset, but in the information available."

"Sure it can," Dillon remarked with a grin. "How about we consider Revan? Was he a hero of the Republic or a Sith menace? Did he save lives from the scourge of the Mandalorians or condemn the Galaxy to turmoil? When different perspectives are taken into account, one man can very easily flip-flop between the role of protector and destroyer. All of this can change on the whims of what one feels is just and what crosses the big red line."

The ancient Jedi let out a laugh.

"I appreciate the skepticism," he noted. "Seven thousand years is a bit rediculous for a humanoid being. But my case is far more complicated than most. I have lived many lives, and I know what it looks like when one is seeking to confirm their doubts."

Dillon settled himself down into a chair, crossing his legs in a comfortable manner. Even his manner of dress was confusing. Armor plating on his shoulder suggested a warrior, yet his loose robes resembed that of a monk. He certainly seemed jovial, adding another layer of confusion to his aura. Regardless of these things, it was clear that he spoke with earnest in his tone.

"From how I observe things to be, all information has value," he stated. "If you find nothing of value, perhaps such things are not a result of the limitations of the records, but rather the mind absorbing the information."

He leaned against the table with a casual grin, his posture slouched in a particularly childish way. He seemed to transition between states so quickly it was hard to keep track of or read.

"So, what is it that you expect to find?"

 

[Ilaria Morvayne]

Post #3 – "The Weight of History"

Chapter One - A Return to the Temple
Dillon Kai'el

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Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Jedi Archives – Midday

Ilaria's expression did not shift, though inwardly, she bristled.

Revan. A name so often thrown about by Jedi and Sith alike, wielded as proof of whatever philosophy the speaker wished to endorse. Dillon's words were not new to her—she had studied this argument before, the idea that history itself was mutable, that truth depended on perspective rather than fact. But no matter how many times she heard it, she found the reasoning… insufficient.

History did not change. It was only rewritten.

She folded her hands in her lap, her movements precise, deliberate.

"Revan was what the galaxy needed him to be," she said at last. "A hero, a tyrant, a necessary evil. If you ask a thousand people, you will get a thousand different answers. But that does not mean the truth does not exist—it only means it has been buried beneath opinion."

She met Dillon's gaze, her emerald eyes cool, assessing.

"You say all information has value, but I disagree. Incomplete records, conflicting accounts, and personal bias can corrupt history just as easily as ignorance can erase it. Perspective does not change the past—it only changes the way people justify it to themselves."

Her gaze flickered over him, taking in his contradictions—the armor, the robes, the impossible claim of longevity, the shifting between amusement and sincerity. He was difficult to place, which meant he was difficult to trust. And yet, there was an undeniable weight to his words, no matter how lightly he seemed to carry them.

He was not a fool.

But neither was she.

She exhaled, slow and measured, before answering his final question.

"I expect to find an answer," she said simply. "Something tangible. Something real."

Her voice did not rise, did not betray even a fraction of the unease she refused to name.

"I want to understand why the Jedi have changed. When it happened, and why it was allowed to happen. I want to know what we lost in the process. And what we—"

A pause.

She caught herself before the words slipped past her lips, before she admitted too much.

What she was at risk of losing.

Instead, she let the sentence hang, unfinished, her hands tightening ever so slightly in her lap.

​

 

[Dillon Kai'el]

Coruscant
Tags: Ilaria Morvayne

​

"Revan was what the galaxy needed him to be," she said at last. "A hero, a tyrant, a necessary evil. If you ask a thousand people, you will get a thousand different answers. But that does not mean the truth does not exist—it only means it has been buried beneath opinion."

"From your perspective," Dillon shrugged. "From my perspective, Revan was a man. Imperfect and infallible, but one who rose to meet a threat nonetheless. Ultimately, he was an individual with good intentions that crossed a line with his actions. Then again, I followed the man in the Mandalorian Wars, not the mythologized individual. To that end I've seen the evolution of history first-hand. Everything is susceptible to change. That is the natural state of all things."

The Jedi Master sighed, crossing his arms as he lingered on the padawan's words. What have the Jedi lost. An interesting question, but one that was a bit loaded. After all, it's not like all things that the Order lost ever stayed that way. Things just fluctuated.

"The Jedi have been changing for thousands of years," he noted. "Sometimes they're large, with thousands of knights and a dogmatic hierarchy. Sometimes they're a mere handful of members brought up in a radical reform post disaster. Perhaps what you believe is lost has simply been cycled out for another philosophy. Given time, it's sure to return and define the norms of the Order. But..."

The Master paused, resting his hand on his chin.

"Perhaps there is opportunity to learn from this change, no?"

 

[Ilaria Morvayne]

Post #4 – "The Weight of History"

Chapter One - A Return to the Temple
Dillon Kai'el

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Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Jedi Archives – Midday

Ilaria studied Dillon, her expression unreadable. He spoke as if change was inevitable, as if the Jedi Order shifting and reshaping itself over millennia was a simple fact of existence—one that could neither be resisted nor mourned.

She did not believe that.

Change was not something that simply happened. It was something allowed. Decisions had been made. Beliefs had been abandoned. And once something was lost, it did not simply return as part of some natural cycle—it had to be restored.

And yet, one word stood out from all the rest.

"Revan."

He spoke of him not as a name in a history text, not as a legend passed down in biased accounts. He spoke as if he had been there. As if he had known him.

Her gaze sharpened.

She exhaled softly, shifting her posture, placing her hands behind her back in a motion that felt as natural as breathing. The question formed before she could second-guess it.

"Saul Karath should come to mind."

Her words were deliberate, edged with something that was neither challenge nor hesitation, but something in between.

"Telos."

She had spoken the words as fact, but the truth was more complicated. His legacy was carved into her name, into her blood, into the whispers that followed her through the halls of the Jedi.

Saul Karath. Admiral of the Sith Empire. The man who had turned his back on the Republic, who had commanded the bombardment that had reduced Telos IV to ruin.

A traitor. A war criminal.

Her ancestor.

She had always believed he was justified. Not morally, but retributively so. The Republic had deserved it—had let itself become weak, complacent, bloated with bureaucracy and indecision. Saul Karath had not been blind. The Republic had been. And if they had not been, then Telos and Taris would have been avoided.

And yet, even he had faltered in the end. Even he had underestimated the currents that guided the course of history.

She would not make the same mistake.

Her gaze did not waver from Dillon's.

"You say you followed Revan," she said, her voice even. "Then you knew Saul Karath."

A pause.

"What do you remember?"

Not the accounts the Jedi had given her. Not the records filtered through centuries of Republic-leaning historians.

The truth.

The man.

Not the myth.

Not the shame.

​

 

[Dillon Kai'el]

Coruscant
Tags: Ilaria Morvayne

​

"Mmm... an interesting figure to call out specifically," Dillon noted. "Most don't speak of Karath beyond the airspace of Taris these days. A no nonsense soldier, sort of a hardass if I must be rather blunt. But there is no denying that he was effective in his role, all the way to the bitter end. They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Say what you will about the state of that Old Republic as you youngins call it, but what did burning Taris or Telos change? All to kill one Jedi, Bastila Shan, a plot that ultimately failed and saw trillions die needlessly. I hear that he hesitated to press the big red button in the end, Karath. Perhaps he didn't fully grasp what he had signed up for... It isnt natural to be forced to do such things."

Dillon shrugged.

"But, in the grand scheme of things there have been hundreds of Karaths," he continued. "And perhaps Revan seems a special individual, but his actions could also be seen as lining up suspiciously with the chosen one, no? Walking the thin line between light and dark... Not the same, mind you, but these things rime. As the Force ebbs and flows, so too do people. Finding myself rejuvenated in a new time has me experiencing a bit of deja vu. I've seen the crossroads we stand at before, in another life of course."

Yet there was a great deal of reluctance from the padawan. Dillon had lived long enough to see the cyclical nature of the Galaxy unfold on a grand scale, his spirit left to be a passive observer while his body was restored over several thousand years. Time and time again he saw similar people in similar places, making similar determinations about the path for the future. One could not deny it when they saw it first hand, but lives were typically short. Things that ended, from the perspective of one with only a hundred years to live, seemed to end forever.

"So, if I may ask a question now," Dillon began again, "What will you do when you find the thing that confirms your feelings? Does the thing you seek actually matter, or is it mearly your comfort that you seek to maintain? Nothing you need to answer for me... but something you will have to conclude for yourself."

"You may find you didn't know what you were truly looking for."

 

[Ilaria Morvayne]

Post #5 – "The Weight of History"

Chapter One - A Return to the Temple
Dillon Kai'el

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Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Jedi Archives – Midday

Ilaria did not move. Did not blink. Did not react.

But inside, something shifted.

Dillon's words carried no malice. No direct challenge. And yet, they cut through her like a blade, precise and unavoidable.

"What did burning Taris or Telos change?"

She exhaled, slow and controlled. A breath that carried no emotion, no hesitation—only discipline.

Nothing.

It was the answer she did not speak aloud, the truth she had always known. The bombardments had not saved the Republic, nor had they secured Revan or Malak's dominance. They had not wiped out Bastila Shan. They had not reshaped the war.

They had only proven a point.

A demonstration of what happens when the weak forget the cost of survival.

Her fingers curled behind her back, where they remained clasped. She would not allow her composure to slip. Not here. Not now.

She had always accepted what Saul Karath had done. Accepted that he had believed in his choice, that he had acted not out of impulse, but out of necessity. But Dillon's words forced her to acknowledge something she had not before.

He had hesitated.

She had always assumed her ancestor had been resolute in his convictions. That he had understood exactly what he was doing when he stood at the precipice of destruction.

But if he had hesitated, if there had been a moment of doubt, then what did that mean?

Her emerald gaze met Dillon's, steady despite the turmoil beneath the surface.

"There have been hundreds of Karaths."

The words lingered. Cold. Unyielding.

If that was true—if history merely repeated itself, shifting names and faces but never truly changing—then what was the point? If nothing ever truly ended, only cycled back in another form, then where did that leave her?

"What will you do when you find the thing that confirms your feelings?"

She did not answer at first.

Because she did not know.

She had come to the archives expecting to find a reason. A justification. Something that would explain why the Jedi had changed, why the discipline she had been raised in had been abandoned in favor of reliance on others.

But what if there was no singular moment?

What if the shift had not been a betrayal, but merely another step in the endless cycle Dillon spoke of?

She had never considered that possibility.

That she was the one who had been left behind.

Her grip tightened behind her back, nails pressing into her palm.

"I do not seek comfort," she said at last, her voice measured, controlled. "Nor do I seek justification. I seek understanding."

And yet, as she spoke the words, she could not help but wonder—

Was there truly a difference?

But now, for the first time, she felt them pressing against her certainty.

If nothing truly ended, if everything was destined to repeat in some form or another—then what was the point?

Why should she restrain herself?

Why should she force herself to walk a path of discipline when, in the end, everything she fought for would be lost and rewritten? The Jedi had been strict once, and now they were not. The Republic had stood strong, and then it had fallen. If all things faded, only to return in another form, then why should she not take what she desired?

Perhaps it did not matter.

Perhaps nothing mattered.

Her hands unclasped from behind her back, falling to rest on the table, fingers splaying across the cold surface as if grounding herself.

"You speak of cycles," she said at last, her voice quiet but no less sharp. "Of how history repeats itself, how nothing truly lasts. But if that is true, then why should I waste my time fighting against it?"

She lifted her gaze to Dillon's, unblinking, unreadable.

"If nothing I do will matter in the end—if the Jedi will change again, if the Republic will rise and fall again, if the galaxy will always return to some variation of what it was—"

Her fingers curled, nails pressing into the durasteel.

"Then why should I follow any path but my own?"

The thought unsettled her, not because it was dangerous, but because it was freeing.

For so long, she had walked the path of discipline. She had believed in the teachings of the Enclave, in control, in mastery, in self-denial. She had followed the Code, not because she had been forced to, but because she had believed in the necessity of restraint.

Because she had believed in the weight of history.

But if history was merely a tide, endlessly shifting, erasing all that came before, then what was the point of resisting its pull?

She had fought to maintain control over herself, over her emotions, over her ambitions. But if none of it truly mattered—if all things were temporary, if all things would be rewritten—

Then why should she not indulge in what she wanted?

Her gaze did not waver.

"If nothing is permanent, then why should I hold myself back?"

The words had left her lips before she could stop them.

And for the first time in her life—

She did not regret them.

​

 

[Dillon Kai'el]

Coruscant
Tags: Ilaria Morvayne

​

"If nothing is permanent, then why should I hold myself back?"

"Well... perhaps it's a little more complicated than that," Dillon noted. "There's a big difference between coexisting with your emotions and letting yourself go. You seem to fear that the Order has fallen into the grip of attachments, no? I would estimate that you likely don't truly know what the code asks you to avoid. Organic people cannot keep themselves from feeling. That is not natural. Obsession, however, is a different story."

Dillon ran his thumb through his mustache as he spoke.

"True balance lies at the center of these things," he stated. "A Jedi is asked to love, but not to obsess. To control the things we love is to crush them. Equilibrium is achieved through moderation. Just as a mother bird lets it's fledglings leave the nest, a Jedi must nourish love, but let go when the time comes. To hold on too tightly is straining. You risk crushing that which you hold dear. But on the other side of that coin, neglect your emotions and your soul withers. You become jaded and careless in the face of death. A Jedi is to be gentle towards the suffering of others, not cold. Somewhere between there is balance. A tender hand that nourishes, but allows what one cares for the freedom to live their lives. It's there that you will find the natural state of being."