Laphisto let his gaze drift between the others, his expression unreadable. But when his eyes landed on
Diarch Rellik
, his brow lifted slightly in confusion. The Diarch had dropped to one knee in a pose that could only be described as reverent—head bowed, hands gently cradling the Fire Tear like a sacred relic. Was he praying? To the world? To the soul trapped within the crystal? Laphisto couldn't be sure. He had known Rellik for years, seen him in battle, at council, in triumph and defeat but never like this. The sight stirred something unfamiliar in him, a curiosity tinged with unease. Still, whatever Rellik was doing, it did not go unnoticed.
The Fire Tear in his hands began to shift. While the others pulsed in unison—dim to bright and back again, like the rhythm of a single vast heart—this one faltered. Its glow broke from the synchronized cycle, flickering erratically, as though responding to something unseen. Then, without warning, a vision surged into Rellik's mind.
A face took shapeKiev'arian, unmistakably so. It bore the features of Laphisto, but aged and altered. The hair was longer, intricately braided in the old war-style. Fiery orange eyes, bright as molten metal, locked onto the Diarch's soul with intensity. Lines of deep crimson scales marked the man's pale features, and though clean-shaven, a rough stubble clung to his jawline.He was a warrior, a leader—perhaps something more. And his voice, when it came, was no mere whisper. It boomed within Rellik's skull, a layered sound equal parts roar, command, and sermon. The word was simple, yet powerful. Almost confused.
"
Help?" And just as swiftly as it had arrived, the vision vanished. The Fire Tear remained in his hand, but now its light pulsed erratically, no longer in rhythm with the others. The random flickers suggested something had changed some tether had been formed, or some wall breached. Whatever had spoken... it was still watching. Still waiting.
Turning toward
Diarch Reign
, Laphisto let his gaze drift across the battlefield once more, eyes narrowing slightly as he scanned the countless petrified forms. Thousands of them frozen mid-strike, mid-scream, mid-fall. Some looked as though they'd only just fallen when the end came, while others had decayed into skeletal husks long before whatever final horror turned their kin to stone. The chaos of it all was eerily quiet, locked in place by time and ash.
His brow furrowed. Then, with a slow exhale, Laphisto closed his eyes. "
This…" he said softly, the weight of his voice carrying across the dust-laden air, "
was the end. A final stand against something terrible. Whatever did this it didn't just kill them. It erased the very heartbeat of our world." He opened his eyes again and turned to Reign fully, noting the question in his companion's expression.
When Reign mentioned seeking a Fire Tear of his own, Laphisto gave a faint, knowing smile and gestured to the few glowing crystals still embedded in the corpses nearby each one untouched, each one gently pulsing with dim, ghostly light. "
Your options are thinning," he murmured, a dry chuckle in his voice. "
Unless you're hoping for something more personal. A journey like the ones the younglings used to take… finding their first kyber crystal."
He caught sight of
Zara Saga
's hesitationthe way her body tensed, the flicker of discomfort in her voice. It didn't go unnoticed. Her usual bravado faltered, replaced with something almost vulnerable. Laphisto let out a quiet chuckle, his brow arching slightly as he turned toward her, arms folding across his chest. "
It might judge you," he said with a smirk, voice laced with dry humor. "
Maybe more than I ever would. But really, who doesn't like blondes?"
He spoke lightly, deliberately, hoping to coax her past the unease. But beneath the jest, something weighed on him. That voice the same one that had screamed within his skull earlier lingered still. Watching. Pushing. He couldn't explain it, but a growing dread curled in his gut, whispering that if the others didn't take a Fire Tear… something terrible might happen. His eyes briefly scanned the others. What if they were turned to stone, like the warriors frozen mid-strike?
When Zara finally knelt, hesitant and sarcastic as ever, Laphisto rolled his eyes playfully and turned toward
Derron Daks
with a crooked grin. "
Make a note in your report," he said with mock seriousness, gesturing toward Zara. "
If her face melts off, she's blaming all of us." He gave a short laugh as the words left his mouth, but the moment didn't last. His attention shifted quickly, eyes narrowing as he turned toward the man in question only to be interrupted by a transmission from
Brakkus
.
Laphisto raised a brow, glancing toward Derron Daks before activating his comm. His voice was calm, but carried a firm undercurrent measured, authoritative, and laced with concern. "
Understood, Brakkus. For now, advise your teams to leave the metal alone. We don't yet understand what we're dealing with and until we do, I won't risk your people falling under whatever influence it carries."
He paused, glancing over the fields of petrified warriors around them. "
Coordinate with the DDSI operatives on the ground. If this city was once alive if these warriors were frozen mid-battle then there must be records somewhere. A log, a carving, a scroll. Check the smaller ruins, the peripheral settlements, anything that looks like a temple or archive."
He exhaled slowly, eyes drifting toward one of the frozen warriors."
If there's writing, if there are words left behind, I want to see them. Whatever happened here, I have the feeling the planet's been waiting a long time for someone to ask the right questions."
Turning back to Daks, Laphisto cleared his throat, his voice steady but carrying the weight of recent events.
"I appreciate your willingness to honor my request, Commander. You and your people have already shown more care for the fallen than I managed in my own moment of recklessness."
He offered a respectful bow of his head, a low, resonant rumble rising from his chest a quiet gesture of gratitude "
If it's within your capacity, I'd ask something more of your team. Search the city ruins. Carefully. See if there's any record anything at all that might explain what happened here. How they were petrified… mid-step, mid-swing…" His gaze drifted to the nearest frozen warrior, a flicker of pain crossing his expression."
Something must have been left behind. A warning. A story. Maybe even a cause."
As Laphisto conversed with Deks,
Zinayn
would suddenly feel a shift in the Fire Tear cradled tightly in his hand. Its rhythm, once steady and synchronized with the others nearby, faltered then stopped altogether. The soft pulsing that mirrored the heartbeat of a people long gone began to flicker erratically, its glow brightening and dimming in unpredictable bursts. The crystal pulsed like it was thinking… or perhaps, remembering.
And then, unexpected, a presence pressed against his mind. A face emerged in his thoughts not ghostly, not spectral, but vivid and immediate. A Kiev'arian woman. Her features were angular and strong, marked by biology unfamiliar to most: delicate gill-like slits ran along her neck, flaring slightly with imagined breath. Her eyes were a pale, crystalline blue, almost glass-like in their intensity. A long scar carved its way down from the edge of her lip, tracing her jawline before hooking across her throat, disappearing beneath what must have once been armor.
She looked at him no, through him scrutinizing. Silent. Measuring something only she could see. Her expression didn't convey warmth. Nor anger. But there was judgment in her gaze. A cold, precise appraisal. And then, without sound or farewell, she vanished gone as suddenly as she had come. Yet the Tear in his hand continued to pulse, no longer bound to the rhythm of the others. It now beat to its own tempo. His.
Laphisto's gaze snapped outward, drawn by a sudden jolt of awareness that came not from his surroundings but from within. A sharp whisper scraped across the surface of his mind like claws against old stone, the same voice that had
haunted him earlier. It was more than a sound. It was a command coarse, guttural, and layered with that strange harmonic timbre that rang with both urgency and
authority. "
Come."
The word wasn't spoken aloud, yet it echoed through the very marrow of his bones, reverberating like a distant war drum. His breath hitched, and for a moment, everything else fell away the ash-choked silence, the conversations, even the presence of his companions. All of it was eclipsed by the pull.
His lone ear perked sharply, twitching toward the source. He turned slowly, eyes narrowing as they locked onto the distant mountain range that clawed at the horizon. Jagged silhouettes jutted from the land like broken teeth, veiled in frost and shadow, yet now they seemed to pulse faintly ever so faintly with the same subtle rhythm as the Fire Tears. It was as if an invisible
tether had wrapped around his
chest, tugging not violently, but insistently. A low hum began to rise in the back of his mind, a pressure building behind his temples.
He took a single step forward, then another, his movements slow but deliberate. One clawed hand raised, arm outstretched, finger pointing directly toward the ridgeline. "
We need to go there," he said, his voice low but resolute less a suggestion, more a
declaration.
There was no explanation offered. None needed. he didnt understand what was calling to him, or who but its command felt more than that of a leader, more than a commander. its place within him, its hold over him. was something more
ancient.
GM RESPONSE FOR
Saga Merrill
As Saga pried the glowing crystal from the arrowhead, the subtle vibration of the act triggered an unexpected reaction. The tension in the statue's bowstring, held in place for who knew how long, suddenly released with a snap. The wooden shaft launched forward in a blur of motion, slicing clean through the air. A brief trail of ionized energy shimmered in its wake like a crack of lightning, and the arrow buried itself deep into the starship's inner hull with a solid
thunk embedding seven full inches into the alloy plating.
A reminder that, even petrified, these warriors had once wielded deadly precision. Turning to the console, Saga worked to recover what data remained. Much of it was lost corrupted beyond repair, likely by age, battle damage, or the same force that had petrified the crew. But after coaxing power through one of the interface nodes, a single fragment emerged from the wreckage of code: a final security recording. The holofeed flickered to life.
Onscreen, the five Kiev'arians those same warriors now locked in stone were alive and moving. Blades danced through the air, cutting down Rakatan attackers with fluid, brutal efficiency. Arrows flew from the bow in devastating arcs, each shot striking with enough force to punch through armor and the hull itself. Sparks flew, and decompression alarms began to wail. The very spot where Saga now stood was caught in a lethal maelstrom. Then without warning a flash. Blinding and unnatural. Not just light, but
color white, gold, crimson, and shadow-black swirled together in a pulse that swept across the chamber like a tidal wave.
When the image cleared, everything had changed. The five Kiev'arians stood frozen mid-action one mid-draw, another mid-swing. Caught in their final moments, turned to stone as if the universe had paused them mid-breath. The Rakata collapsed moments later, suffocated by the sudden vacuum tearing through the breached hull. The playback ended.
GM RESPONSE FOR
Merion Oreno
As Merion's fingers closed around the helmet, the moment he lifted it from the dust-choked table, something surged through him a jolt not of energy, but memory. The world shifted. In an instant, his vision fractured and reformed, as though he were no longer looking with his own eyes but through the eyes of the helmet itself He stood in the past.
The Hollow Spire was under construction. Not a ruin, but alive with purpose and movement. Kiev'arians moved with precision and grace across scaffolding and carved stone. The helmet was placed gently on a table, its vantage fixed and still, as its former owner an armored figure, tall and regal approached a woman poring over a massive set of glowing blueprints. Another flash.
Time had moved forward. The construction had advanced. Now the ceiling was nearly complete, and Kiev'arian artisans were etching ancient star charts into the walls and dome with crystalline chisels. In the center of the room stood the woman again, but now she held a radiant gem a prism that shimmered in shifting colors, as though refracting more than light.
The armored knight returned to her side. They spoke, but no sound came only the movements of mouths and the weight of shared intention. Then the woman raised a hand, and strands of solid gold rose from the stone floor, weaving together to form the pedestal the very same one Merion had just sawed through. With reverence, they placed the gem within its container and set it atop the new pedestal, sealing it in place. Another flash. Now chaos.
The knight the same one who once stood in calm beside the woman fought with blade in hand, defending the Spire's interior against a flood of Rakata warriors. He was not alone. Other armored Kiev'arians fought at his side in a desperate stand. Blades clashed. Screams echoed. Then a sharp blow his perspective jolted, spun, and dropped. The last thing the helmet saw before blackness fell was the knight's body being lifted by Rakata soldiers and carried away, along with others. The Spire's glow dimmed. Dust began to settle. And then… silence.
Laphisto
—signal interference still plagued the planet, but perhaps the transmission would make it through.
