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Chapter Text

10 Years Before the Phantom Menace

There are moments when even eternity hesitates.

The Force — endless, indifferent, and alive… felt the ache of its own imbalance. It had watched empires rise and fall in repeating chords of violence, watched chosen ones burn and fade, watched light and dark devour each other until nothing remained but echoes of regret.

And so, at the edge of time, it whispered a single word into the void.

“Enough.”

The word was not sound. It was an act.

And in that act, the currents of creation turned back upon themselves.

In the ruins of a thousand-year empire, where the Eternal Spire stood like a tombstone against the horizon, the Force gathered the remnants of what once was Valkorion.

His spirit had not vanished into the netherworld; it had sunk… heavy, scarred, poisonous, with the weight of all he had done. There, beneath the weave of time, the Force reached him.

No thunder. No revelation. Only a whisper that felt like truth.

The Force: You sought to become Me. You forgot what it meant to be. So be, then. As all must be.

And in that instant, power unmade itself.

Every scream of every soul he had consumed, every lie, every empire, folded inward like dying stars collapsing into silence.

When the light returned, it left behind a man.

No longer immortal. No longer infinite. No longer endless. Only alive.

Yet balance demanded more than punishment.

In another current, deeper still, the Force found a soul that had never stopped weeping for him: Senya Tirall.

Her love had survived his cruelty; her faith had endured his fall. She had died still believing that the man she once loved was buried beneath the god he became.

And so, as the Force remade the void, it touched her essence with the same hand that unmade him.

The Force: (Murmuring) He will rise in weakness, so you will rise in strength. His redemption cannot begin alone.

From the quiet between heartbeats, her form reassembled; light over bone, breath over memory. Her pulse returned with the rhythm of the galaxy itself. She awoke not in paradise, but in the rain-soaked ruins of her home.

They rose together on the same day.

Valkorion upon the broken dais of the Spire,

Senya in the wild marshes below it.

Neither yet knew the other lived. Both felt only the faint pulse of the Force, echoing like a heartbeat not their own. It guided them not as command but as promise:

Walk, and you will find what remains of love.

Above Zakuul, the sky began to clear. The eternal storm that had once crowned the city parted, revealing the first sunrise the planet had seen in centuries.

The light that fell upon the ruins did not glorify them; it revealed their scars.

In that light, the Force whispered not of destiny, but of choice.

And for the first time in a millennium, Valkorion and Senya, two halves of a cycle broken, breathed the same air again.

Across the stars, few noticed. A sunrise meant little to those who had never seen this world. But to the Force, that moment resounded like a chord struck through all creation.

The Force: The god will learn to be man. The mother will learn to forgive. And from their union will come the Child of Balance. The heart that beats for all things.

The galaxy did not yet tremble. It listened.

And so began the quietest act of salvation ever written: not in war, not in prophecy… but in two lost souls standing before the dawn, and daring, at last, to live.

—————————————————————————

There are few silences more complete than the one that follows godhood.

Zakuul had been a world of endless storm; lightning dancing through the crowns of durasteel towers, rain carving lines into marble. Now, for the first time in centuries, the sky was clear. The Spire, once a monument to an emperor who named himself Eternal, stood as a husk of memory. Its shattered crown reached for a sun it could no longer command.

Beneath that fallen throne, amid the dust and the whisper of ruined machinery, a man awoke.

He did not remember falling asleep. He remembered only the ache.

A pain that was not physical, but elemental… the kind of pain a being feels when every layer of immortality has been peeled away.

He opened his eyes.

Once, those eyes had burned with cosmic authority, a storm of ancient power that made stars kneel. Now they were merely human: pale, uncertain, unguarded. His breath came ragged. His hand, when he lifted it, shook. There was no power in his veins. No echo of eternity. Just blood. Flesh. Mortality.

Valkorion; the god, the emperor, the devourer of worlds… was gone.

In his place stood a man who had no right to exist and no strength to deny it.

He staggered to his feet, unsteady, the broken metal beneath him biting into his soles. He tried to summon the Force by instinct, a gesture, a command… but nothing answered. The silence was absolute.

For the first time since his first breath on Nathema, the Force refused to obey him. And in that void, something else stirred: fear.

Small. Sharp. Honest.

He almost laughed at the absurdity of it. The dread of mortality. The weakness of flesh. The same fragility he had once sneered at in others. Now, it was his only companion.

He began to walk.

Below, in the marshlands that surrounded the fallen city, she was already moving.

Senya Tirall had woken to rain. Not the mechanical kind that fell from the Spire’s weather grids, but real rain; warm, clean, alive. It clung to her lashes and ran down her armor in rivulets. She could feel her pulse, strong and even. It had been years since she’d felt it.

The last thing she remembered was darkness. A wound. The sound of her daughter’s voice, raw and broken. Then nothing.

Now, she stood among reeds and shallow waters, her reflection rippling beside her. She hardly recognized the woman staring back: silver hair matted with rain, eyes haunted but steady. Alive.

Her heart should have rejoiced. Instead, it ached. Because with life came memory… and memory came with him.

Valkorion.

The name still tasted like betrayal. And longing. And every promise she had once believed.

She didn’t understand how she lived again. Only that the Force whispered something gentle beneath the confusion: walk north.

So she did.

By midday, the air above the ruins shimmered with heat. Valkorion reached the edge of the city and collapsed beneath the shade of a broken archway. The pain of movement was exquisite. He found water; murky, stagnant… and drank greedily. The act itself felt alien. Gods did not thirst.

He sat in silence, watching motes of dust drift through the sunbeams. For the first time, he realized how loud silence could be.

He whispered into the air.

Valkorion: Is this your mercy? To strip me bare and leave me crawling among the ashes of my own kingdom?

No voice answered. Only wind.

He laughed bitterly.

Valkorion: So the gods fall, and even the Force grows deaf. How poetic.

Then, softly, another voice… human, unmistakable.

Senya: Not deaf. Just finished listening.

He froze.

From the shadows of the corridor, she stepped into the light.

Senya. Alive.

She looked exactly the same, yet her face was lined by time and sorrow, but the light in her eyes had not dimmed. She carried her spear in one hand, not raised in threat but held like memory. Her breath caught when she saw him… truly saw him. Gone was the divine radiance. Gone the emperor’s armor. He wore only tattered robes and shame.

He could not meet her gaze.

Valkorion: Senya…

His voice cracked. The name sounded strange on mortal lips.

She stared at him for a long time, rain dripping from her hair. When she finally spoke, her words were quieter than the wind.

Senya: I don’t know what you are anymore.

He tried to answer, but found nothing. The eloquence of gods had abandoned him too. At last he said, almost pleading…

Valkorion: I am… what remains.

Senya: (Her tone not cruel nor kind. Tired) Of Valkorion? Or of Vitiate? Or of the man who lied to me, used me, and cursed our children?

He flinched. There was no divinity left to shield him from truth.

Valkorion: Perhaps of none. Perhaps of all.

She exhaled slowly.

Senya: Then maybe you can start by being someone else.

For days, they did not speak much.

Senya led him through the marshlands to what remained of an outpost; a collapsed shelter beneath the cliffs. He slept there, beside the cold embers of an old fire, while she gathered food and watched the horizon.

Sometimes she looked at him as if expecting the illusion to break. As if the god would return at any moment and sneer that she had been fooled again. But the days passed, and he stayed. Weak. Quiet. Mortal.

He began to help her. At first clumsy, then deliberate. Building, carrying, repairing. Work was new to him; it hurt his hands, but he welcomed the pain. It was proof he still existed. Proof he could earn what he once took by decree.

One evening, as the sun bled gold across the marshes, Senya sat beside the fire. Valkorion… no, the man he was now, watched her in silence.

Finally, she spoke.

Senya: I buried you once. I buried the man I loved, and I buried the monster who replaced him. Now you’re here again, stripped of everything. Tell me why.

He stared into the fire.

Valkorion: Because eternity was a lie. Because I mistook dominion for meaning. Because I thought the galaxy would worship the god and forgive the man.

Senya: And now?

Valkorion: Now…

He hesitated, feeling the weight of the word.

Valkorion: Now I wish to learn what forgiveness even means.

Senya turned toward him, her expression unreadable. The firelight painted her in amber and shadow.

Senya: (softly) Then start with yourself. Because I’m not ready to give mine yet. Perhaps I will never be.

He nodded, though it hurt doing so. And for the first time in countless lifetimes, he accepted that answer.

That night, as sleep claimed them both, the Force stirred again.

High above the broken spires, the sky shimmered faintly… not with storm, but with light. The galaxy’s pulse beat once, deep and slow, like the breath of something vast awakening.

Two souls, once enemies of destiny, now walked its path again.

The god had fallen.

The woman had risen.

And somewhere, far beyond the veil of stars, the Force smiled.

Because this time, it would not need to break them.

They would choose to be whole.

—————————————————————————

Dawn broke not in light, but in the sound of wind sweeping through marble bones. The great Spire of Zakuul still stood upon the horizon, blackened and cracked, its glass ribs catching what little sun bled through the storm clouds.

In the shadow of its ruins, two figures lived.

Once, they had ruled from that height — gods in all but name. Now they gathered rainwater from broken pipes and scavenged food from half-collapsed markets. The emperor and the knight. The sinner and the betrayed.

It had been months since Valkorion awoke, powerless. In that time, he had learned the weight of a hammer, the ache of hunger, the sting of cold air in the lungs. He found that when one cannot command the galaxy, one must earn warmth; strike flint, build fire, wait.

Senya watched him, always. Sometimes openly, sometimes from a distance. The woman who had once followed his voice to the ends of the stars now studied him as if searching for the ghost of a man she once loved.

And often, she found nothing but silence.

The days fell into rhythm.

They built a shelter from fractured durasteel, reinforced with the bones of Zakuulan skycraft. The soil here was gray and bitter, yet Senya coaxed small green life from it, roots and vines clinging stubbornly to the cracks.

Valkorion tried to help. Once, he might have waved a hand and bent nature to his will. Now, he dug with his bare fingers, dirt caking his nails. The work made his shoulders ache, a sensation he had not felt for millennia. He did not complain. He feared the sound of his own voice might shatter the fragile quiet between them.

Senya would hum, soft melodies from the old Eternal Fleet days. Her voice had a weary grace to it, like the song of a soldier laying down her blade. One evening, Valkorion asked her, quietly:

Valkorion: Why do you sing, when the world is ashes?

She did not look up.

Senya: Because ashes remember.And if we forget the sound of life, we’ll become like the world we burned.

For the first time, Valkorion could not find an answer that made him feel superior.

At night, the Force whispered to him; faint, distant, like the echo of waves through a buried city. It did not command or punish. It watched. The god who once consumed worlds to silence its voice now found himself yearning to hear it again, even if only to be scolded.

He sometimes dreamt of fire. Of Nathema. Of his empire devouring itself in the name of eternity. And in those dreams, Senya stood upon the horizon, her back turned.

Each time he woke, he expected her to be gone. Yet every morning, she was still there: tending the hearth, mending armor, feeding him. Not because she had forgiven him, but because she refused to abandon even a monster.

That constancy hurt more than any punishment.

Weeks passed. The ruins around them grew quieter, as if the planet itself was beginning to breathe again. Zakuul’s storms lessened; small birds returned. Senya found one perched on the roof one morning; bright white feathers, streaked with gray like ash and dawn. She smiled faintly.

Senya: Do you think this world can forgive us?

Valkorion’s answer came slow, heavy.

Valkorion: Forgiveness is not the galaxy’s duty. It is a mercy we must earn.

She studied him for a long while, as though testing the weight of those words.

Senya: (Murmuring) You sound like a priest.

Valkorion: I sound… like a man who is trying to no longer wish to be a god.

Something flickered in her eyes then… not warmth, but recognition. The first ember of something less than hate.

Later, as twilight bled over the city, they walked among the ruined bridges of the Spire. Below, the water still glowed faintly from ancient energy conduits, the light shifting between blue and gold. Valkorion stopped, his gaze distant.

Valkorion: Do you ever wonder… if the Force regrets creating us?

Senya’s tone was steady.

Senya: I think the Force doesn’t regret. It only waits to see what we’ll do next.

He nodded slowly, as if accepting a truth he had once destroyed planets to deny.

A silence stretched between them, deep and unbroken, the kind that holds not absence, but understanding. Then, Senya reached out. Her hand hovered over his; not touching, not yet, but close enough that he could feel the heat of her skin.

Senya: (Quietly) If you truly want to learn, start here. Stop seeking power. Learn people. Learn pain.

He turned his palm upward. For the first time in an eternity, Valkorion, the immortal, the Emperor, the void, did not command. He asked.

Valkorion: Then teach me.

Senya looked at him, seeing not a god or tyrant, but a man standing naked before his own ruin.

And in that moment, something in the Force stirred; not thunder, not light, but a faint warmth, as if the universe itself had exhaled.

—————————————————————————

The wind over Zakuul’s plains carried the smell of dust and rain, the scent of a world that had survived its gods.

Months had passed since the fall of the Spire. The ruins still cut jagged silhouettes against the horizon, but beyond them, life persisted. Out in the settlements, people had begun to rebuild after a brutal storm that had almost destroyed the city: scavenging durasteel, raising new shelters where marble once gleamed.

It was there, among the farmers and mechanics, that Valkorion walked.

No banners announced him. No procession followed. To the people, he was only a stranger with the face of a ghost.

Whispers followed him through the muddy streets.

Woman: That’s him. The Emperor.

Old Man: No, can’t be. The Emperor’s been dead for centuries.

Man: Then why does he look like sin that learned to walk again?

He heard it all, but said nothing. The words stung not because they were cruel, but because they were true.

He labored beside them, a man once worshiped now hauling stone and binding plasteel seams. Each task was menial, but each demanded attention. The hammer’s rhythm became meditation. The ache in his arms became prayer.

Children stared at him openly, half-curious, half-afraid. A woman dropped her tools when he passed, as though expecting lightning to strike. He met their gaze and saw himself as they did: not savior, not emperor, but the memory of terror made flesh.

And for the first time, he did not resent their fear. He understood it.

At dusk, Senya approached. Her armor was streaked with mud, her braid undone, but her bearing remained unbroken: a warrior tempered, not dulled. She watched him work for a long moment before speaking.

Senya: (Quietly) You wanted eternity. Can you survive a single day as one of us?

Valkorion’s hands stilled on the beam he was lifting. He turned toward her, the light of the dying sun catching the faint lines age had left upon his face.

Valkorion: (Murmuring) Eternity was easy. It required nothing of me. This… demands everything.

Senya’s gaze softened, but only slightly.

Senya: Then prove it.

Days blurred together… rebuilding, mending, eating beside those who still whispered his name with unease. He began to see things he had once dismissed: the way the settlers shared food before taking their own portion; how laughter could exist even among ruins; how grief, when spoken aloud, lost some of its weight.

He began to listen. Not to the Force, but to people.

A child with grease-stained fingers told him stories of the old Eternal Fleet… how her grandfather once saw the sky filled with light. An old man showed him how to mend a plow, muttering about the days when “emperors didn’t fix things with their hands.”

Each word struck deeper than any weapon. Each moment was a fragment of something Valkorion had forgotten: what it meant to be part of a world, not above it.

Then came the storm.

It rose from the northern sea, a vast wall of gray fury rolling toward the settlement. Rain came first, heavy and relentless, then wind, tearing through the half-built roofs.

Senya was already shouting orders.

Senya: Secure the children! Get the generators inside!

Valkorion moved before thinking, his instincts still sharp from lives of command. But this time, when he reached the central bridge, a rickety span of metal over a swollen river, it wasn’t power that drove him. It was fear. Fear that the people he had begun to care for would die because he was too late.

The bridge began to buckle under the surge. A transport skidded across, its wheels slipping on soaked metal. Valkorion lunged forward, bracing his shoulder beneath the beam as it cracked. The weight drove him to his knees; cold rain hammered his face.

He had held worlds before. He had torn the life from planets. But this weight, the simple, brutal weight of matter, felt heavier than any crown.

Senya saw him through the storm, running toward him, shouting his name. Together they anchored ropes, shouting for others to evacuate. The current roared below like the voice of a god long forgotten.

Something inside him snapped, not bone, but pride. And in its place came something purer, quieter: the will to protect.

He no longer sought to control the flood. He only wanted to hold long enough for others to cross.

When the storm finally broke, the bridge held. Barely. The settlement survived.

They sat beneath the remains of a collapsed awning, drenched, exhausted, watching the dawn creep through the clouds.

Senya looked at him… mud-streaked, bleeding, breathing heavily, and for the first time in decades, saw not the Emperor, but the man she had once believed might exist beneath the myth.

Senya: (Softly) You didn’t use the Force.

Valkorion: (Quietly) I didn’t need to. For the first time, I wanted to save them.

She nodded, silent, a small, unreadable smile flickering at the corner of her lips.

The wind carried the scent of rain-washed soil, the first clean smell in years.

Above them, the clouds thinned, revealing the faint shimmer of Zakuul’s morning light. It touched his face, and for a heartbeat, the reflection in Senya’s eyes was not the Emperor reborn, but a man reborn through dust, labor, and storm.

That day, the people began to greet him differently. Not “my lord,” not “your grace.”

Just Valkorion.

He found that it was enough.

—————————————————————————

The shuttle touched down on Zakuul’s moon in silence.

No banners, no escort… only wind whispering over pale dust and the hollow ruins of an ancient temple. Its spires were fractured things, jagged bones pointing at a gray sky, the last remnants of an age that believed in forever.

Valkorion stepped out first. The air here was thin, cold, metallic… it bit like judgment.

Senya followed, cloak drawn close, her gaze steady but shadowed. She had insisted he come. “If you want peace,” she had said, “you’ll have to meet your ghosts where they were born.”

Now, among the shattered columns, his footsteps echoed like the tolling of a broken bell.

Inside, the temple still held the shape of his old faith… Eternal, radiant, merciless. The frescoes showed the triumph of the Emperor, the submission of the galaxy, the conquest of death. The artistry was flawless. The truth behind it, monstrous.

He stared at his own carved image on the wall: cloaked in light, eyes like stars. It felt alien now… a myth wearing his skin.

Then the Force stirred.

At first it was only a tremor, a shift in the air. Then came the whispers — familiar voices threading through the dust.

???: Father.

The word struck like a blade.

From the drifting light coalesced Thexan — calm, mournful, every inch the son he had once been proud of. His armor glimmered faintly, a memory made visible.

Thexan: You made us believe in your eternity. And when it killed us, you called it destiny.”

Behind him emerged Arcann, half his face shadowed, half illuminated… fury and grief bound into one. His voice was low, steady, burning.

Arcann: You broke us, Father. You made us into you.

And last came Vaylin. Her eyes were wild fire, her presence sharp enough to cut.

Vaylin: (Spiteful) You called it love when you caged me. You called it teaching when you broke me.

Senya said nothing. She stood near the doorway, motionless… watching, waiting, tears already forming but unfallen.

Valkorion could have dispelled the illusion. He could have commanded the Force to silence them, banished the ghosts with a flicker of will. Once, he would have.

But now, he simply bowed his head.

Valkorion: (Quietly) Speak. Say what you must.

Thexan’s voice trembled with sorrow.

Thexan: Do you even remember the day you stopped being our father and became a throne?

Arcann’s words were harder.

Arcann: You chose power over us. Over her. You made the galaxy kneel because you couldn’t bear to kneel to your own heart.

Vaylin stepped closer, her form flickering with rage and pain.

Vaylin: You made me your monster. Tell me why I shouldn’t destroy you now.

The air shimmered with the tension of memory and fury. The temple itself seemed to hold its breath.

And Valkorion… the Eternal Emperor, the man who once defied death and time, sank slowly to his knees.

He did not look away from them.

He did not argue.

He did not command.

Valkorion: If you would strike me…

He said, his voice steady but stripped of every crown it had ever carried,

Valkorion: Do it. But I will not command you again.

The silence that followed was infinite.

Thexan’s image trembled, the edges dissolving into light. Arcann’s fury wavered, the shadow on his face thinning. And Vaylin… fierce, wounded Vaylin, took a step forward, hand raised as if to strike, then faltered.

The ghosts looked at him one last time… not forgiving, not condemning, but seeing.

Then, one by one, they faded.

All that remained was the echo of their voices, like a song ending on a note too fragile to hold.

Senya finally moved. She crossed the temple floor and knelt beside him. He didn’t look up; she didn’t speak.

For a long time, there was only the sound of their breathing. Two survivors in a place built for gods.

When she finally reached out, it was not as a lover, not yet, but as someone who could no longer watch another soul crumble alone. Her hand brushed his shoulder.

He flinched, not from pain, but from something far rarer… the shock of being touched with pity instead of fear.

Senya’s voice was a whisper.

Senya: Now you understand.

He nodded, eyes wet but calm.

Valkorion: Understanding is not absolution.

Senya: No… But it’s a beginning.

She leaned her forehead against his, and for the first time since the empire’s fall, they shared a single, unguarded silence. A silence where guilt met grace… where an empire’s ashes made room for a heartbeat.

Outside, the wind rose again, threading through the temple’s broken arches like breath returning to lungs long dead.

And in that wind, the Force stirred… not in judgment, but in watchfulness.

The mirror had been faced.

The flame had not consumed.

And deep within the quiet light of Zakuul’s moon, the first embers of forgiveness began to burn.

—————————————————————————

The sun rose over Zakuul… not the blinding gold of empire, but the softer light of dawn breaking through scaffolds and smoke.

The Eternal City, once a monument to divine order, now hummed with the sounds of hammers, laughter, and life.

Valkorion walked among them.

Months had passed since the temple. The storm within him had quieted, though it never truly ceased. The man who had ruled worlds now carried tools instead of commands. He rebuilt broken walls, repaired generators, planted gardens where once he had burned rebellion. Every act of restoration left his hands trembling… not from weakness, but from unfamiliar grace.

When children passed, they stared, whispering his name like a ghost story.

Kid 1: Is it really him?

Kid 2: The Emperor?

Kid 3: No, he helps us now.

He would only nod, the faintest smile flickering and fading. Perhaps that was enough.

One morning, as the fog lifted over the central district, he found a boy sitting beside a ruined fountain… no older than ten, eyes closed in concentration. A pebble floated above his palm, wavering. The Force rippled faintly around him, uncertain and raw.

Valkorion: (Softly) You’re reaching too hard.

Boy: (Muttering) I’m trying to control it…

Valkorion: Then you’ve already lost.

The boy frowned.

Boy: But that’s what power means.

Valkorion knelt, picked up the pebble, and placed it in the boy’s hand.

Valkorion: Power is a conversation, you do not shout at the Force, you listen to it. Let it speak first.

The boy exhaled. The pebble rose, smooth and still this time.

The old Emperor smiled… a real, quiet smile. For the first time, he felt what teaching truly was: not indoctrination, not command, but sharing.

Senya watched from a distance, unseen at first. Her lips curved upward, the smallest trace of pride, tinged with melancholy. For all the years she had cursed the man, for all the blood and silence between them, this was the Valkorion she had once imagined might exist beneath the armor.

And now, finally, he did.

That evening, they sat together on a balcony overlooking the city’s slow rebirth. The sky burned in shades of orange and violet, reflecting off the half-repaired spires. Below, people sang… workers finishing another long day, their voices weaving into something rough but beautiful.

Senya plucked a melody on a salvaged stringed instrument, one she had found among the ruins. A lullaby from her youth. The notes wavered, fragile, human.

Valkorion listened in silence. When the song ended, he spoke quietly.

Valkorion: I used to think music was a lesser form of order. Beautiful, but flawed… forever decaying.

Senya: It is. That’s why it’s real.

They sat in stillness. A wind brushed through, carrying the scent of rain and metal.

Valkorion: I tried to master creation…

He said, almost to himself. Senya then answered.

Senya: Try living it instead.

He turned to her, and for the first time, smiled without restraint.

Valkorion: A difficult lesson.

Senya: The only one worth learning.

Days turned into weeks. He worked beside her in the fields, debated philosophy over tea with the engineers, even argued, playfully, this time… about the merits of rebuilding the old Eternal Throne. (“It was comfortable,” he protested. “It was monstrous,” she replied, laughing.)

Sometimes, in quiet moments, she would catch him gazing at the stars as if seeing them for the first time. And sometimes, he would catch her watching him, and neither would look away.

Their love did not return in a surge. It grew like the gardens they planted… fragile shoots pushing through ash.

There were still scars. He still woke from dreams of power and screams. She still flinched at thunder that sounded too much like war. But there, in the ruins, they began again.

One night, as rain swept the city, they walked beneath the colonnades, the lights of the new settlements glowing below.

Senya stopped, turned to him.

Senya: You always feared losing control.

Valkorion: Control was all I had.

Senya: And now?

Valkorion: Now…

He took a breath, rain running down his face like absolution.

Valkorion: Now I fear only losing time.

She reached for his hand.

Senya: Then stop fearing it. Live it.

Their hands met… not as ruler and subject, not even as penitent and redeemer, but simply as two souls who had burned through eternity and finally learned to hold warmth without crushing it.

For the first time in an age, Valkorion’s heart beat freely, no longer bound to the rhythm of dominion, but to the fragile, miraculous pulse of being alive.

Above them, the clouds thinned, and dawn broke again over Zakuul.

Not eternal light… just morning.

But for the man who had once commanded suns to burn and die, it was enough.

—————————————————————————

The sun had barely touched the horizon, spilling molten gold across the white spires of Zakuul. Mist rolled gently through the half-rebuilt streets, catching the light and turning each droplet into a tiny sun of its own.

Valkorion stood at the heart of the city, hand in hand with Senya, eyes fixed on the distant mountains that had once witnessed his empire’s reach. Their breaths were slow, shared, measured… a rhythm not dictated by fear or power, but by choice.

For weeks, they had worked, side by side, shaping Zakuul anew. And yet, despite their labor, an emptiness lingered in the spaces that once held their children.

Valkorion lowered his gaze, tracing the scars of the city as if they mirrored the scars in his own soul.

Valkorion: The family I have lost… or perhaps never truly had.

Senya’s fingers brushed against his.

Senya: They were never truly lost. The Force holds what we cannot.

A hush fell over the city. It was not the silence of absence, but of anticipation. The air shimmered, as if reality itself were holding its breath.

Then, as the first light struck the central spire, the wind carried a vibration — deep, resonant, living.

Valkorion felt it before he heard it: a pulse that ran through the veins of the city, through the bones of the planet, through the very marrow of his being. It was a heartbeat… many heartbeats, yet one.

He looked to Senya. Her eyes, wide and shining, reflected the same awareness.

Valkorion: (Whispering) The Force… It comes.

The ground trembled subtly beneath them, and in the streets below, the mist parted. Silhouettes appeared, first faint, then vivid: a boy kneeling in a pool of morning light, a taller figure standing beside him, a girl’s shadow stretching toward them both.

Senya: Thexan… Arcann… Vaylin…

She breathed, disbelief and wonder threading her voice.

They stepped forward as the mist cleared entirely, revealing the children fully; alive, whole, their eyes carrying memories of a past life: triumphs, betrayals, pain, love, and lessons unlearned.

Thexan, ever the quiet observer, knelt before them, bowing not from fear but from reverence.

Thexan: Father… Mother… you’ve returned.

Arcann’s gaze was fierce yet tempered, a warrior newly tempered by humility.

Arcann: The power you hold now… is earned, not taken.

Vaylin’s eyes burned with that familiar fire, tempered now by understanding. She approached, hesitated, then touched her father’s shoulder.

Vaylin: I remember everything… and yet, I see change. Perhaps… this is enough.

Valkorion knelt, heart racing, a man once bound to omnipotence now humbled by love and awe. He touched each of them, feeling not the Force through them, but them: flesh, blood, will, and soul intertwined.

Valkorion: (Voice faltering) I… we… I am not worthy of the titles I once held. But I will be worthy of you.

Senya stepped forward, placing her hand over his.

Senya: Then let us begin, not as emperor and subjects, but as family. Reborn, together.

The city itself seemed to pulse in response, light spilling from every corner as though the Force celebrated the reunion. From the spires to the streets, from the gardens to the fountains, Zakuul breathed anew.

Then, the air shimmered in a way that pulled the very light into spirals, coiling around Valkorion like threads of pure energy. The pulse he had felt before intensified, a resonance that was both intimate and cosmic. The Force, alive and breathing, flowed through him, enveloping every atom of his being.

He felt it: power, not as dominion, but as trust. Every ability he had once wielded to command and destroy returned to him, not because he demanded it, not because he had a right, but because he had earned it.

The Force spoke… not in words, but in the clarity of pure knowing:

The Force: You have walked among those you once ruled. You have suffered, learned, and chosen to love. You are ready.

A brilliance erupted from his chest, pure and serene, spreading outward. Valkorion’s mind swirled with visions of what he could do, what he once did… but instead of arrogance, there was balance. The power of the Eternal Empire flowed into him, harmonized with restraint, humility, and empathy.

He drew a deep breath, and for the first time in millennia, it was not a gasp of hunger or desire for control… it was a sigh of peace.

The children watched, silent and reverent.

Thexan: (Murmuring) It is… yours.

Vaylin: Earned,

She added, her voice soft but unwavering.

Senya leaned against him, and together they felt it: the full restoration of a man once godlike, now godlike through wisdom and love, not fear.

The city trembled again, but this time in celebration. Zakuul, the Eternal City, and its people all sensed it: the return of power tempered by humanity. The Force flowed freely through every street and garden, through every citizen, and through the hearts of this reborn family.

Valkorion turned his gaze to Senya, eyes no longer veiled by ambition or regret, but clear and warm.

Valkorion: We are the Eternal Family. Not in power, but in purpose. And this… this is just the beginning.

The wind carried a faint whisper, a current of hope threading through the towers and gardens, through the people, through the stars themselves.

The Force had chosen its form.

And it was alive.

—————————————————————————

The twin suns of Zakuul rose over a city not of conquest, but of renewal. White spires gleamed against a sky of pale gold, their light caught in lattices of crystal bridges and gardens suspended between towers. The streets, once echoes of imperial marching orders, now hummed with voices: merchants trading, scholars debating, children laughing as fountains danced in the breeze.

At the heart of this reborn city, the former Eternal Throne had been replaced by a simple dais of polished white stone, etched with sigils of balance, harmony, and vigilance. Here, Valkorion stood, not clad in armor nor regalia, but in simple robes that reflected neither rank nor fear… only authority earned through courage, restraint, and love. Beside him, Senya’s hand rested lightly on his arm, their eyes meeting in a quiet acknowledgment: this was the life they had chosen together, tempered by sacrifice and lessons learned.

The children moved among the citizens freely. Thexan, a master of architecture and engineering, oversaw the construction of new learning centers; vast libraries and laboratories where knowledge would no longer be hoarded but shared. Arcann, the once-tempered warrior, patrolled not with the intent to subjugate, but to protect, guiding a militia of citizens trained in defense rather than conquest. Vaylin, tempered by the echoes of her past fury, taught the young Force-sensitive how to wield their power with compassion and awareness, emphasizing choice above obedience.

Valkorion watched them all, the fullness of the Force flowing through him but no longer demanding obedience. Every atom of his being was aware of the vast potential he now held… yet he restrained it, letting the city grow under the guidance of mortals and family, not fear. The Force hummed through him like a river in motion, alive and free, and he felt it not as a weapon, but as life itself.

He turned to Senya.

Valkorion: (Quietly) We have the power to remake worlds.

Senya: And yet… we begin by remaking ourselves.

They walked together through the city, past gardens of crystalline flora that shimmered under the twin suns, past fountains that sang the histories of fallen empires now honored rather than erased. Citizens bowed in respect, not terror… for the people of the Reforged Eternal Empire had learned that true strength was measured in protection, not dominion.

In the great halls of the central spire, Valkorion convened a council… not of generals, but of thinkers, builders, diplomats, and scholars from across Zakuul and nearby systems. The Eternal Empire’s fleets had been reassembled, yes, but each ship now carried supplies, educators, medics, and diplomats… instruments of peace as much as defense.

Valkorion addressed them, his voice carrying the resonance of authority tempered by empathy.

Valkorion: The galaxy has known fear. It will know protection now. Our strength is not for conquest, but for guardianship. We will defend those who cannot defend themselves, guide those who seek guidance, and never again let ambition blind us to life’s value.

A murmur of agreement swept through the hall.

Outside, children ran beneath the reconstructed spires, their laughter threading through the city like a song. In the gardens, citizens planted groves of luminescent trees… a reminder that growth was more than survival; it was nurture, beauty, and shared purpose.

Valkorion paused at the central fountain, watching the crystal waters ripple in the morning light. The Force hummed around him, as present as the wind through the towers, as warm as Senya’s hand resting on his. He inhaled deeply, not as a god seeking dominion, but as a man embracing life.

Valkorion: (Softly) We are no longer the Eternal Empire of fear. We are… the Eternal Empire of hope.

Senya smiled, warmth threading through her expression.

Senya: And we will teach it, together.

As they looked across the city, the twin suns of Zakuul bathed Kaas’ari in gold and crystal light. The children of the Eternal Family moved freely, laughter and conversation mingling with the hum of learning and creation. Valkorion, restored fully to the Force yet humbled, understood that this power was not a crown to be worn, but a mantle to be carried.

Thexan approached, holding a scroll detailing new settlements in nearby systems, each a haven of safety, education, and governance by consent, not fear. Arcann joined, reporting on patrols that had prevented piracy without bloodshed. Vaylin stood beside him, guiding young Force-sensitive apprentices in a courtyard that glowed with the first rays of dawn.

Valkorion closed his eyes, feeling the Force not as hunger or hunger’s echo, but as life itself, threaded through every street, every tower, every citizen, and every heartbeat of his family.

Valkorion: (Whispering to her) This is what eternity should feel like. Not endless rule, but endless care. Not fear… but love.

The winds of Zakuul carried their laughter and whispers across the rebuilt city. The Force flowed through it all; measured, gentle, and infinite. For the first time, the Eternal Empire did not hunger, did not demand. It breathed.

And the galaxy, for a moment, knew that power could be tempered by wisdom, strength could be tempered by love, and an empire could rise not in fear, but in the light of guardianship.

—————————————————————————

The white towers of Kaas’ari glimmered beneath twin suns, their crystalline spires catching every ray like captured fragments of eternity. Months had passed since the Reforged Eternal Empire had first lifted itself from ruin. Villages were rebuilt, outlying systems quietly restored, aid sent to those who had once known only fear. Yet in the quiet heart of the capital, the Eternal Family had tended to a more private restoration: themselves.

Valkorion stood upon the balcony of their restored palace, not in armor, not in ceremonial robes, but in simple attire that reflected neither rank nor fear, only presence. Senya approached, her hair catching the light like spun gold, and in her eyes was that familiar spark: warmth tempered by hard-won wisdom, love forged through fire and shadow alike.

They had remarried in a quiet ceremony, a promise renewed not before crowds, not before armies, but before the Force itself, the witness to their journey, the eternal current that had guided them through despair and rebirth.

Valkorion: The galaxy grows stronger every day, and yet… I have waited for this more than any fleet, any star, any throne.

Senya smiled, a soft exhalation, her hand resting lightly over her stomach.

Senya: Then let us not wait any longer.

The labor had lasted through the night, but there was no fear in the royal chambers of Kaas’ari. There was only light.

The air inside the room didn’t feel heavy; it felt electric, vibrant, like the feeling of standing on a mountaintop right before the sun breaks the horizon.

Senya lay against the pillows, exhausted but radiant. Her pain was there, but it was eclipsed by a profound sense of arrival.

Around her stood the family that history had tried to break.

Valkorion held her hand, not with the grip of a terrified mortal, but with the steady, grounding presence of a husband.

Thexan stood at the foot of the bed, his face calm, marveling at the geometric patterns of light dancing on the walls—the Force rearranging itself.

Arcann stood by the window, usually stoic, but now pacing with a grin he couldn't hide, watching the twin suns align perfectly with the spire.

Vaylin sat cross-legged on the floor near the bed, her eyes wide, feeling the energy in the room. For the first time in her life, the Force didn’t feel like a cage or a weapon. It felt like a song.

Vaylin: (Softly, tracing a pattern in the air) The Force… it’s happy. It’s never been this loud, but it’s not screaming. It’s singing.

Valkorion: (Smiling down at Senya) It welcomes him.

Then, the moment came.

It wasn’t a thunderclap. It was a harmony.

As Senya gave the final push, the light in the room shifted from gold to a blinding, prismatic white.

Every crystal in Zakuul hummed at the exact same frequency. The fountains in the gardens outside surged upward in perfect unison.

And then… silence.

But not an empty silence. A full one.

Valkorion lifted the child from the med-droid’s arms. The infant was glowing—a soft, pearlescent aura wrapping around him like a blanket.

Valkorion: (His voice thick with emotion) Look. Just… look at him.

He lowered the bundle so Senya could see, and the siblings crowded in, their boundaries and armors forgotten.

Itharion opened his eyes.

One burned with the deep, warm crimson of the Sith—passion, emotion, life.

The other shone with the calm, infinite azure of the Jedi—peace, clarity, depth.

There was no crying. The baby looked at them with an ancient, quiet curiosity.

Arcann: (Leaning in, whispering) He’s… so small. I expected a storm.

Thexan: (Smiling gently) He is a storm, brother. Just a quiet one.

Vaylin pulled herself up and peered over Valkorion’s shoulder. She reached out a finger, hesitating. The baby’s tiny hand shot out and grabbed her finger tightly.

Vaylin gasped.

A ripple of pure joy shot through the room. Vaylin didn't pull away; she laughed—a genuine, bubbling sound of delight.

Vaylin: (Beaming) He likes me! Did you feel that? He’s strong! He feels like… like everything at once!

Valkorion looked at his children, then at his wife, and finally at the son in his arms. He didn't feel fear. He didn't feel the crushing weight of the universe.

He felt pride.

Valkorion: (Softly) The galaxy has spent thousands of years fighting itself. Light against Dark. Ashla against Bogan. (He brushed Itharion’s cheek) And here you are… holding both hands together.

Senya: (Touching the baby’s head) Itharion… Our little bridge.

The baby cooed—a sound that resonated in the Force like a bell chime.

Outside, the clouds parted completely. A gentle rain of golden pollen from the garden trees drifted past the window, looking like falling stars in the sunlight.

The Force wasn't bowing in submission. It was celebrating.

Thexan: (Softly) What does this make him? If we are the Eternal Family… what is he?

Valkorion looked into Itharion’s mismatched eyes, seeing the reflection of every mistake he had made and every hope he now held.

Valkorion: He is the Promise.

The family stood there, bathed in sunlight, huddled around the smallest thing in the room, realizing he was the biggest thing in the galaxy.

And for one perfect moment, before prophecies and wars and destinies interfered… they were just a family, marveling at a new life.

And for one perfect moment, before prophecies and wars and destinies interfered… they were just a family, marveling at a new life.

Then, the air shifted.

It was not a wind, nor a sound. It was a pressure—ancient, heavy, and absolute—that descended upon the room. The golden pollen outside stopped falling, suspended in mid-air. The fountains froze in their arcs. Time itself seemed to hesitate, bowing in reverence.

The Force spoke.

It did not use a voice of thunder, nor did it whisper. It spoke as a vibration in the marrow of their bones, a truth etched into the fabric of reality itself.

The Force: Welcome to the living, Itharion. Child of Balance.

The name the parents had chosen resonated with warmth, grounding the child to the mortal coil, to blood, to love.

But the Force was not finished. It coiled around the infant, recognizing something that had not existed since the dawn of the stars. It recognized a pivot point. A center.

The Force: Welcome into Destiny… Bendu.

The word was not a name; it was a classification. A title given by the universe to the only thing that could hold it together.

As the title left the lips of the cosmos, it did not stay in the room.

It erupted.

A ripple of invisible energy surged outward from the spire of Kaas’ari. It tore through the sky, past the twin suns, breaking the sound barrier of reality. It raced past the moons of Zakuul, weaving through the hyperspace lanes, touching the minds of Jedi and Sith alike—a fleeting shiver they could not explain.

But it did not stop there.

The signal traveled further, deep into the uncharted black of the Unknown Regions, to a place where no star chart led. A place where the Force was not just a field, but the very air.

There, floating in the crushing silence of the void, hung a monolith.

It was massive, shaped like a perfect diamond, rotating slowly against the backdrop of a nebula that looked like bruised velvet. It was a cage, a temple, and a world all in one.

Inside the monolith, deep within a monastery carved from stone that predated the Republic, an old man knelt in meditation.

He was not Jedi. He was not Sith. He wore robes that seemed to shift between grey and white, like smoke caught in a draft. He knelt at the center of a great mosaic floor, flanked by two towering statues that loomed over him in silent judgment.

To his right, a majestic Griffin, carved of pale alabaster—the avatar of Light.

To his left, a snarling Gargoyle, hewn from obsidian—the avatar of Dark.

The ripple from Zakuul washed over the sanctuary, shaking the dust from the statues.

The old man’s eyes snapped open. They were not human eyes; they were deep, starry wells that had witnessed the birth of galaxies and the death of suns.

He did not look alarmed. He looked… relieved.

He slowly raised a hand, catching the fading echo of the signal the Force had sent across the stars. He tasted the title on the air, a word he had not heard spoken in eons.

He looked up at the statues of his children—the Light and the Dark—and then looked past them, toward the distant, unseen point in the galaxy where a baby had just drawn his first breath.

A smile cracking his weary face.

???: So… he finally begins.

The monolith hummed in a deep, resonant approval, a sound that vibrated through the old man’s very soul. The Anchor had been cast.

The Balance had finally taken shape.

—————————————————————————

Seven Months After - 8 Years Before The Phantom Menace

The dawn came quietly that day.

The twin suns of Zakuul rose over the white spires of Kaas’ari, spilling molten gold across polished stone. The city, once the heart of conquest, now sang with peace. Gardens bloomed where command towers had stood; laughter replaced the anthem of war.

For the first time in centuries, Valkorion felt no hunger in the Force… only stillness.

He stood upon the highest terrace, Senya at his side, the wind teasing the edges of their robes. Below, Thexan supervised the final construction of the great temple’s archives, the Sanctum of Echoes, while Arcann and Vaylin trained young acolytes in the courtyards, their sabers humming in harmony rather than discord.

And in the heart of it all, within the temple’s inner chamber, lay the cradle.

Itharion.

Seven months old; born of light reclaimed from darkness. His presence shimmered through the Force like dawn through fog: pure, curious, unshaped. When he breathed, the air itself seemed to listen.

Senya hummed softly to him, an old song from her youth. Valkorion watched in silence, awe replacing pride. In that small heartbeat of peace, he understood: this child was not his redemption. He was the galaxy’s.

He stepped closer, something small glinting in his palm, two pendants.

One bore the crest of the Eternal Empire, its sigil re-etched in white and gold… no longer a symbol of dominion, but of unity.

The other, smaller still, was carved from blue crystal in the shape of a teardrop… the emblem of the Shan Dynasty.

Valkorion looked down at his son, his voice a whisper of reverence and resolve.

Valkorion: Two legacies, bound as one… the empire that sought eternity, and the bloodline that remembered mercy. May they never war within you, my son.

He slipped the necklace gently around the infant’s neck. The chain shimmered faintly as it settled, resonating with the Force — a quiet vow, forged of both penance and hope.

Senya brushed a tear from her cheek, smiling faintly.

Senya: A gift from both your worlds.

The child stirred, tiny fingers closing around the twin pendants. For a heartbeat, the air brightened — as though the Force itself had answered in kind.

Valkorion: The Empire is reborn… not through my will, but through forgiveness. It endures because we finally remembered what it means to serve.

Senya: Then may it never hunger again.

The day’s ceremony began at noon… the formal consecration of the Reforged Empire. No thrones, no oaths of power. Instead, a single declaration etched into the stone of the spire:

“Balance is not seized. It is shared.”

The citizens gathered below as the family stood together before the dais. Thexan held the ceremonial banner, Arcann the staff of unity, Vaylin the twin sigils of life and death intertwined. Senya carried Itharion in her arms, the infant gazing skyward with mismatched eyes; one deep red, the other cobalt blue, twin reflections of conflict and harmony.

Then… it began.

A tremor, soft at first, rippling through the air like a whispered warning. Thexan froze, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the horizon. Arcann’s hand went instantly to his saber. Vaylin tilted her head, sensing something cold threading through the light—a void where life should be.

Valkorion turned his gaze skyward. A single streak of red flame cut through the upper atmosphere: a starship, small, unmarked, burning fast.

Valkorion: (Frowning) No vessels were cleared for descent…

Before he could finish, the blast of repulsors screamed overhead. The ship skimmed the plaza’s edge and landed hard in the gardens, crushing the stone beneath its landing struts. Dust and petals spiraled into a choking cloud.

From the smoke stepped a figure: tall, deliberate, silent.

Black beskar gleamed beneath drifting ash, its edges inlaid with narrow veins of crimson light that pulsed like a heartbeat. The armor was sculpted in the image of a bird of prey; sleek, predatory, angular. In one hand, they carried a split-blade lightsaber forged in Mandalorian design.

Arcann didn’t wait.

He moved faster than the eye could track, a blur of white and gold, his yellow blade igniting in a downward arc meant to disarm, not kill. The speed was godlike.

But the assailant didn’t block.

Instead, the figure raised their left gauntlet. Embedded in the wrist was not a weapon, but a rough, jagged stone that seemed to drink the light around it. An artifact of the Old Wars.

A high-pitched whine pierced the air—a sound not of this world.

Thexan: (Eyes widening in horror) A Force Nullifier?!

Valkorion: (Shouting) Arcann, get back!

Too late.

The figure clenched their fist. The stone pulsed.

BOOM.

It wasn't an explosion of fire. It was an explosion of silence.

A shockwave of pure, anti-Force energy erupted from the gauntlet. It didn’t just push; it severed. For a split second, the connection between the Eternal Family and the Force was violently ripped away.

Arcann’s lightsaber shorted out as the energy wave hit him, the feedback hurling him backward into a pillar with the force of a freighter collision.

Vaylin, who had launched herself into the air to strike, screamed as her levitation failed instantly. She crashed hard onto the marble, gasping, the wind knocked out of her, her connection to the Force replaced by a deafening static.

Valkorion staggered, clutching his chest. For a being of pure power, the sensation was agony—like having his very soul unplugged. He dropped to one knee, vision blurring, his absolute command over reality reduced to nothing but a ringing in his ears.

This was not a warrior defeating them. This was a thief using a cheat.

In the chaos, Senya turned to run, clutching Itharion close, her instincts screaming to protect the child even without the Force.

But the assailant was already there. Unhindered by the blast that had crippled the Force-users, the Mandalorian moved with jet-assisted speed.

A flash of black metal.

A brutal, precise strike to Senya’s shoulder with the hilt of the saber.

She cried out, her arm going numb, her grip failing for a fraction of a second.

The figure snatched the bundle from the air before it could hit the ground.

Valkorion: (Struggling to stand, voice raw) NO!

He reached out, trying to summon lightning, trying to crush the intruder with his mind—but the Null-Field was still active. Sparks danced on his fingertips and died. He was powerless.

The assailant didn’t speak. They didn’t gloat. They simply ignited their jetpack.

With a roar of engines, the thief shot skyward, clutching the crying infant against the black beskar.

As the figure ascended, the artifact on their wrist dimmed, and the Null-Field collapsed.

Instantaneously, the Force rushed back into the family—violent and overwhelming.

Vaylin’s scream shattered the windows of the spire. Arcann launched a bolt of lightning so powerful it vaporized the landing gear of the retreating ship, but it was too late—the vessel’s shields flared, absorbing the blow as it punched through the atmosphere.

Senya collapsed, reaching out with the Force, but felt only the fading trail of the ship’s ion drive.

Senya: (Broken whisper) He… he turned off the world…

Valkorion stood amidst the cracked stone, his hands trembling. Not from weakness. But from the terrifying realization that for ten seconds, the gods had been made mortal.

Valkorion knelt, hand pressed to the cracked stone where the child had lain. Through the Force, he felt the faintest tremor… a cry from the edge of the stars.

Tatooine. A barren world of dust and silence.

The bond was thin, but unbroken. Itharion lived.

Valkorion: (low, trembling) The galaxy tests us still… but I will not answer it with wrath. Only resolve.

Senya turned toward him, grief streaking her face.

Senya: Then we will find him.

Valkorion rose slowly. The chamber darkened around him as the light from the spire dimmed, as though the world itself bowed to the will forming within him. The Eternal Emperor… long buried beneath peace, stirred once more. But this time, refined by mercy.

Valkorion: Prepare the fleets. Summon the Knights. Every world that is loyal to Zakuul will stand ready.

Senya: (startled) Valkorion—

Valkorion: They stole our future. My son. The stars will not burn, but they will shine at our command. Every world that remembers Zakuul’s name will answer our call… not in fear, but in faith.

Senya: (hesitant) You would rouse the Empire again?

Valkorion: Not to rule… to guard. To remind the galaxy that the Eternal does not abandon its own. I… won’t abandon my own.

Thexan lowered his head, not in shame but in silent understanding. Arcann’s eyes burned; the same fire mirrored in his father’s. Vaylin’s scream split the air, raw and unrestrained, and somewhere deep within the palace, alarms began to toll as command protocols awakened for the first time in years.

Outside, the twin suns aligned… their combined light cutting through the clouds like a blade. The people of Zakuul thought it a sign of renewal. The family knew better. It was the herald of movement — of purpose reborn.

That night, Valkorion stood before the empty cradle once more. His reflection shimmered in the crystal beside it — not just a man, but something older, grander, reawakened.

Valkorion: (to the Force) Once I sought to command you. Now I ask only this: guide me to him.

The room pulsed, not with fury, but with conviction… the calm before the dawn of action.

Valkorion: (softly) He is my son. My heir. My legacy. And I will cross the stars not to avenge him… but to bring him home.

For a fleeting instant, the crystal flared — a child’s echo brushing against his mind. Not fear. Not pain. Only wonder.

Valkorion’s breath caught. His eyes softened.

Valkorion: So it begins again… but this time, mercy will carry the blade.

Outside, Kaas’ari’s towers lit one by one, gold against the black — not as monuments of conquest, but as beacons of purpose.

The Eternal Empire stirred, its heart beating once more. Not to dominate.

To protect.

And across the galaxy, the faintest whisper reached through the Force — a child’s laughter beneath twin suns of sand.

—————————————————————————

The Eternal Fleet stirred.

Across the golden spires of Kaas’ari, engines thundered awake for the first time since the Founding.

The twin suns of Zakuul burned crimson through the morning haze as cruisers ascended from their cradles, silver hulls igniting the dawn.

Commanders barked orders; the Knights of Zakuul, their armor polished like mirrors, renewed their oaths… not to conquest, but to protection.

Yet in their hearts burned the ache of loss, and vengeance whispered through their veins.

In the Sanctum of the Throne, the Eternal Family stood assembled.

Valkorion, robed in white and black, neither shadow nor light… gazed upon the holomap of the Outer Rim, the tremor of a father beneath the calm of an emperor.

Senya stood beside him, her hands clenched, her strength tempered by grief.

Arcann and Thexan waited in battle garb, their expressions mirrors of old fire held in check.

Vaylin lingered at the edge of the dais, fury warring with confusion.

Valkorion: No more silence. They have taken our son, and yet… I will not answer loss with ruin. Not this time.

His voice rolled through the marble chamber like distant thunder: heavy, restrained, resolute.

The fleet’s reactors pulsed in answer, as if listening for his command.

But before he could speak again, all power dimmed. The holomap flickered. The air itself changed… stilling, breathing, watching.

Then came the whisper.

Not through the ears, but through the soul.

The Force: (everywhere and nowhere) Be still, Children of the Eternal.

The family froze.

The holomap dissolved into radiant mist that gathered before them, condensing into vision.

A desert beneath twin suns.

A home of sand and scrap.

Within it, a woman with kind eyes, a mother’s heart, holding a child not her own.

Senya’s breath caught.

Senya: (softly) That world…

Valkorion: Tatooine.

The image brightened.

The woman’s smile trembled; beside her, a boy of golden hair laughed in the dust.

When she spoke, another voice spoke through her… ageless, infinite.

Shmi: (the Force’s vessel) Do not come for him, Eternal Father. He is not lost. He is learning what you could not… to live without a throne.

Valkorion’s jaw tightened. The old instinct… to command, to seize, flickered, then faltered.

Valkorion: He suffers. And you would have me watch—

The Force: (through Shmi) He becomes.

The vision shifted.

The two children, Itharion and the golden-haired boy, reached for each other.

Their hands met, and the Force flared between them like dawn; two sparks entwined: one of light, one of balance.

Arcann: (awed) Another?

Thexan: The Skywalker child…

The mirage deepened again. Two spectral figures emerged… one radiant and patient, one cloaked in old scars.

Their names drifted like echoes through the chamber.

The Force: In years to come, these two shall find your son. The Wise One who listens — Jinn. The Redeemed who remembers — Revan. Through them, the path shall open, and the cycle shall end.

Senya fell to her knees, her tears striking marble like rain.

Vaylin trembled… not from rage, but from something she could not name.

Thexan bowed his head. Arcann turned away, jaw clenched in reverence.

Only Valkorion stood still… his eyes closed, his breath slow, as the storm within him quieted.

Valkorion: (low) You ask me to release the only light I have left.

The Force: No. To trust it. As once you defied me in pride, now defy me in faith.

The light began to fade, the woman’s form dissolving back into sand and sunlight.

The last sound was a child’s laughter… bright, fleeting, infinite.

When silence returned, Valkorion’s hands unclenched. The embers of wrath had burned away, leaving only grief… and peace.

He turned to the others, his voice no longer a command, but a vow.

Valkorion: Stand down the fleets.

Arcann hesitated.

Arcann: Father—

Valkorion: (quiet, final) He is beyond our reach. And beyond our right.

The words echoed through the chamber, soft as wind through old stone.

Senya rose and touched his arm, her voice trembling with both sorrow and pride.

Senya: Will we ever see him again?

Valkorion: When the galaxy remembers what peace means.

Outside, the engines stilled.

The Eternal Fleet descended in silence, returning to their docks beneath the crimson dawn.

The twin suns of Zakuul set upon the newborn Empire… not in defeat, but in restraint.

And somewhere, far across the galaxy, beneath another pair of suns, the child of destiny slept… his breath gentle, the future yet unwritten.

For the first time in all its long history, the Eternal Empire chose not to rule… but to wait.

—————————————————————————

The halls of the Sanctum were silent.

Only the low hum of Kaas’ari drifted through the stone… the quiet pulse of a world relearning how to breathe without war.

Valkorion sat before the empty cradle once more.

It was no cradle of empire, no throne wrought in gold, only smooth stone veined with faint light, etched in sigils of unity and renewal.

It had not been carved for a prince, but for a promise.

The man who sat before it no longer bore the armor of gods. The Eternal Emperor had become simply Valkorion: a father, a builder, a man of vast peace. His robes hung loose; the radiance within him gentled to warmth.

In his hand, he held a small pendant… a crystal shaped like a teardrop, its faint light breathing as though alive.

It had once hung above a child’s bed… now it pulsed softly, remembering.

Valkorion: (softly) You took him from my arms. You ask me to wait. To trust. I have commanded legions… yet patience is the cruelest command of all.

His voice wavered… not from weakness, but from the ache of surrender.

He lifted his gaze through the open roof, where the twin moons of Zakuul hung side by side like silver eyes… watching, forgiving.

A ripple passed through the air. Candlelight bent toward him.

And through the vast stillness, the Force stirred… a deep, luminous breath drawn across the galaxy.

Valkorion closed his eyes.

He felt it. Two heartbeats; distant, intertwined.

One steady and calm, touched by endless compassion.

The other wild, bright, fierce… a fire that refused fear.

For a heartbeat they moved in rhythm, then drifted apart again, like tides upon a shared sea.

Valkorion: So… he is not alone.

The crystal brightened, its warmth spreading through his palm until it filled the chamber like dawn.

And in that warmth; faint, playful, unguarded, came a whisper of laughter. A child’s laughter.

Valkorion smiled through tears he did not hide.

Valkorion: My son… may you never carry the shadow that shaped me. May your strength never forget mercy.

He placed the pendant gently into the cradle and rose.

From the balcony, the Eternal City stretched beneath him; towers of white stone and living glass, their foundations humming with quiet industry.

No banners of conquest, no fleets of domination… only the glow of creation, the promise of guardianship.

Valkorion: When next we meet, I will no longer be your teacher… only your witness.

A soft wind swept through the hall, stirring the candles.

For the first time since his rebirth, Valkorion smiled… not the smile of a ruler, but of a man who had learned peace.

Far away, under the twin suns of Tatooine, a child stirred in his sleep.

Beneath the sands, half-buried and forgotten, another teardrop pendant shimmered in answer… its light pulsing once, twice, in rhythm with the other.

Between them, the Force flowed… not as will, not as command, but as breath.

Father and son. Emperor and child. Sinner and savior. Each part of the same eternal current.

And for that single, fleeting instant, the galaxy remembered what it meant to be whole.

Chapter Text

Lineage/Legacy:

Itharion Skywalker-Shan is a being who should not exist; a living convergence where the galaxy’s two most influential dynasties fuse through a miracle of the Force. He is the biological son of the resurrected Eternal Family and the rightful heir to the Shan Bloodline, a union the galaxy was never meant to see, yet one the Force itself willed into being. 

Through his father, Valkorion, Itharion inherits the raw, reality-bending dominion of the Eternal Emperor; an instinctive understanding of power so vast that even ancient Sith Lords feared to name it. From this bloodline echo the legacies of his siblings: Arcann’s relentless endurance, the will to rise again no matter how many times he falls. Thexan’s unwavering loyalty and quiet strength, the heart that held a fractured family together. Vaylin’s unrestrained, terrifying might, a reminder of what power becomes when chains are broken and guidance is lost. This is the Empire of Zakuul alive in his veins: brilliance, fury, sovereignty, and the unbearable weight of possibility.

Through his mother, Senya Tirall, Itharion inherits a lineage long hidden: a branch of the Revan–Bastila Shan bloodline that fled into Wild Space generations ago, preserving balance away from the conflicts that devoured the core. This forgotten heritage carries: Bastila’s clarity and Battle Meditation, the ability to anchor the wills of armies. Satele’s unshakeable leadership, a spirit that becomes a rallying point for the lost. Revan’s shadow, the Jedi who walked into the dark and returned, proving that the Force is larger than any doctrine that claims to own it. This bloodline offers resilience, vision, and the courage to stand at the center of the storm.

In Itharion, the blood of the Sith Emperor and the blood of the Jedi Prodigy coexist, powers that by all logic, should annihilate or corrupt one another. But they do not. Instead, they harmonize. Itharion is not a contradiction; he is the living answer to one.

These legacies are staggering. Two families whose choices reshaped millennia now converge in a single life, each burdening him with their triumphs, their failures, their sins. But Itharion refuses to become an echo of the past. He honors the Shan tradition of resilience and clarity, and he acknowledges the Eternal Family’s unmatched will, but he rejects the idea that destiny is determined by ancestry. Blood may shape a beginning, but it does not command an end.

Where the Jedi preached detachment and the Sith devoured through hunger, Itharion saw only extremes that wounded the galaxy. From the Shans, he learned discipline. From the Eternals, he learned the danger of unchecked power. From both, he learned a greater truth: Balance is neither denial nor indulgence; it is awareness, choice, and responsibility. He has woven together fragments of Jedi discipline, Sith insight, and the oldest Je’daii principles into something new… a creed defined not by dogma, but by accountability.

For Itharion, lineage is not destiny. It is the soil from which he grew — rich, heavy, extraordinary — but it is not the shape he will take. His true legacy will not lie in the echoes of Shan or Eternal blood, but in the mark he carves upon the galaxy through his own will, his own clarity, and his own command of the Force.

Name: Bendu (After his birth given to him by The Force) Itharion Skywalker (during his childhood on Tatooine after being adopted by the Skywalkers) Itharion Shan (designation used during the early years of the Order) Itharion Skywalker-Shan (after the First Battle of Geonosis)

Titles & Epithets: Mandalore The Sith Slayer — The Dawn Knight — The Fulcrum of Balance — The Dragon Of The Force — The Child of Balance 

Place of Birth: Zakuul but was immediately kidnapped by a Dark Side Wielder Mandalorian and brought to Tatooine as a slave to the Hutts.

Age: 8 (Phantom Menace) 18 (Attack of the Clones) 18-21 (Clone Wars - Revenge of The Sith)

Bio: Where Anakin Skywalker burns like a star, Itharion Skywalker-Shan endures like dawn. He was not born into destiny, he forged one. A child of suffering and silence, enslaved and forgotten by the galaxy, yet within him the Force did not rage… it listened. It gathered in stillness, waiting for the one who would learn not to dominate it, but to understand it. Itharion’s power does not announce itself in thunder or prophecy… it resonates. His strength lies in the mastery of self: a will sharpened through discipline, compassion, and a relentless drive for balance. He is both scholar and soldier, monk and liberator: a paradox made flesh. Where others seek to separate light from shadow, Itharion sees that both are threads of the same tapestry. His calm presence conceals a mind like a blade; precise, reflective, unyielding. Every movement, every strike of his saber, carries philosophy behind it. He does not fight to destroy, but to restore. When others burn with hatred, he stands as the reminder that rage can be transformed, not suppressed. In the heart of battle, he moves like a storm guided by purpose: the living embodiment of harmony between chaos and control. And at the center of his story lies his bond with Anakin Skywalker, a bond that transcends brotherhood and enters myth. They are not opposites; they are reflections. Where Anakin’s passion could ignite worlds, Itharion’s serenity gives that fire meaning. He is the one who reminds the Chosen One that compassion is not weakness, that love can be strength without possession. Through Itharion’s quiet mentorship and unbreakable loyalty, Anakin begins to heal: not by denying his emotions, but by understanding them. The galaxy may see Anakin as the Chosen One, but those who truly know the Force recognize Itharion as the Fulfillment of it: the living synthesis of every philosophy that came before. Jedi restraint, Sith will, Je’daii balance… all converge in him, not as contradictions, but as harmony. When he fights, the Force moves with him, not at his command. When he speaks, it listens and talks back. And when he stands beside Anakin, the prophecy itself breathes easier… because for the first time, balance is not an idea… it’s a person. Itharion Skywalker-Shan: the stillness in the storm, the dawn that tempers the fire. A being of synthesis, wisdom, and quiet strength, whose very presence redefines what it means to be chosen. He does not chase destiny, he becomes it. Through compassion, mastery, and brotherhood, Itharion embodies what the Jedi forgot and the Sith never understood: that the Force is not two sides, but one truth. “He is not the light that blinds or the darkness that devours… he is the calm between them. The moment the galaxy takes its first breath again.” 

Appearance:

Itharion Skywalker-Shan — The Phantom Menace Era

“The Child the Force Is Watching Back”

Overall Impression

At first glance, Itharion looks like a beautiful, gentle child.

At second glance, something feels… older.

Not wiser. Not arrogant. Just aware.

People don’t feel threatened by him.

They feel noticed.

Face Structure — Soft, But Already Aligned

 • Face Shape:

   • Soft and youthful, rounded at the cheeks

   • No sharp angles yet — but the symmetry is striking

 • Jaw & Chin:

   • Small, delicate, but centered

   • His chin sits perfectly in line with the nose and lips — already hinting at future balance

 • Cheeks:

   • Slight natural fullness, especially when he smiles

   • Gives him an innocent, approachable warmth

There are no flaws — not because he’s perfect, but because he hasn’t been tested yet.

Eyes — The First Omen

This is where the Force leaks through.

Heterochromia (Child Variant)

 • Right Eye (Light):

   • Clear, vivid sky-blue

   • Brighter than most children’s eyes

   • Reflective — he watches everything

 • Left Eye (Shadow):

   • Deep crimson-red, but muted

   • More wine-red than Sith scarlet

   • Not glowing, not corrupted — just present

Neither eye dominates.

They coexist.

Expression of the Eyes

 • Curious, but not naive

 • Gentle, but not helpless

 • When upset, his eyes don’t flash with rage — they go still

Jedi feel unsettled because:

“He doesn’t look afraid when he should.”

Skin & Presence — The Calm Child

 • Skin: Warm, healthy, sun-kissed (Outer Rim life)

 • Complexion: Clear, almost luminous in natural light

 • Touch: Force-sensitives describe him as warm, even as a child

When he stands near others:

 • Children feel safe

 • Adults feel protective

 • Force-users feel quieted

Hair — Untamed Innocence

 • Color: Dark chestnut

 • Texture: Soft, wavy, unruly

 • Length: Medium, brushing the ears and neck

 • Always falling into his eyes no matter how often it’s pushed aside

It gives him a look that’s:

 • Gentle

 • Unpolished

 • Completely untrained

Which makes it worse when he says something profound without realizing it.

Expression — The Child Who Listens

Itharion at 8 is quiet, but not withdrawn.

 • He listens more than he speaks

 • When he speaks, it’s simple — but lands

 • He smiles easily, genuinely

 • He doesn’t fidget much

When asked difficult questions, he pauses — not from confusion, but from consideration.

Body Language — Stillness Before Motion

Unlike Anakin:

 • He doesn’t bounce

 • He doesn’t pace

 • He doesn’t burn with restless energy

Instead:

 • He sits very still

 • Hands folded, or resting calmly

 • Posture naturally straight, without training

Jedi Masters notice this immediately.

“He doesn’t move like a child who is waiting. He moves like a child who already knows.”

Emotional Tone — Innocence Without Ignorance

This is crucial.

Itharion is not tragic yet.

 • He laughs easily

 • He plays when invited

 • He cares deeply for others

 • He gets sad — but doesn’t spiral

But when faced with fear or danger:

 • He does not panic

 • He does not freeze

 • He accepts it

Not bravely.

Naturally.

How Others See Him (TPM Era)

Qui-Gon Jinn

Feels something older than prophecy
He doesn’t feel urgency — he feels recognition

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Finds him unsettling, but kind
Can’t explain why the child makes him feel judged — gently

Jedi Council

They do not fear him yet
But they cannot place him

Which frightens them more than raw power

Anakin

Feels an instant bond — Dyadic familiarity
But also a subtle imbalance:

“Why does he feel like the older brother… when I’m older?”

Final Line — The Child Version

Itharion at eight does not look like the Chosen One.

He looks like:

“The child destiny has already spoken to.”

And the tragedy is not that he will lose his innocence.

It’s that he was never allowed to be blind.

Itharion Skywalker-Shan — Attack of the Clones

Overall Impression

Itharion does not look like a prodigy anymore.

He looks like someone the Force used too early.

There’s a quiet gravity to him that makes even Jedi Masters pause — not because he’s loud or dominant, but because his presence feels inevitable. Like history already knows his name.

He doesn’t enter a room seeking attention.

The room notices anyway.

Facial Structure — “Refined, Not Fragile”

 • Face Shape:

   • Slim, angular, almost aristocratic

   • High cheekbones, narrow jawline — sharp without being harsh

   • The kind of face sculptors would love, but soldiers would underestimate

 • Cheekbones:

   • Prominent, casting natural shadows under low light

   • Accentuates the hollowness beneath his eyes — the mark of someone who doesn’t sleep easily

 • Jaw & Chin:

   • Defined but not bulky

   • A subtle cleft or firmness to the chin that grounds the elegance in resolve

He looks beautiful — but not soft.

Beautiful like a blade polished too often.

Eyes — The Fractured Chosen

This is where people stop breathing.

Eye Colors (Heterochromia)

 • Right Eye — Jedi Blue

   • Deep, electric high-voltage cobalt

   • Calm, crystalline clear, and piercing

   • The eye that listens before acting

   • Carries compassion, restraint, and unbearable patience

 • Left Eye — Sith Red

   • Dark, deep, saturated crimson, almost wine-black at the edges

   • Not glowing constantly — it darkens when emotion stirs

   • Cold, watchful, judging

   • The eye that remembers every death, every betrayal, every lie

Together, they don’t clash.

They balance — unnervingly so.

People often describe the sensation as:

“Like being weighed… and found wanting.”

Gaze & Expression — “The Knight Who Knows”

 • His default expression is neutral, observant

 • Rarely smiles — but when he does, it’s soft, genuine, and disarming

 • When angry, he doesn’t scowl

   • His eyes go still

   • His jaw tightens

   • His presence presses inward

He doesn’t look dangerous.

He looks decisive.

And that’s worse.

Hair — The Unbound Knight

 • Length: Shoulder-length

 • Texture: Naturally wavy, slightly unruly

 • Color: Dark chestnut brown with warm undertones

 • Style:

   • Usually loose

   • Sometimes tied back low with a simple band during combat

   • Strands fall into his face when he’s tired or focused

This alone marks him as different.

Most Jedi keep their hair controlled.

Itharion’s hair looks like he stopped caring what the Order preferred.

Skin & Markings

 • Complexion:

   • Pale to light olive, depending on lighting

   • Warms near the people he loves and cares about, cools under stress

 • Force Veining (Rare, Subtle):

   • Under intense emotion or power draw, faint light-veins appear near the temples or neck

   • Gold-white when calm

   • Amethyst-red when the Dark presses close

Only Force-sensitives ever notice.

They never forget it.

Voice (Visual Tie-In)

Even though this is face design, it matters:

 • Low, controlled, calm

 • Never raises it unless absolutely necessary

 • When he speaks softly, people listen harder

His face matches the voice.

Nothing wasted. Nothing accidental.

Contrast with Anakin (Visually & Symbolically)

 • Anakin:

   • Emotion on his sleeve

   • Fire in his eyes

   • Youth fighting destiny

 • Itharion:

   • Emotion contained

   • Destiny already accepted

   • Looks like he survived what Anakin was destined to run toward but ultimately didn’t 

Standing side by side:

Anakin looks like the storm.
Itharion looks like the gravity pulling it inward.

Myth Factor — How Others See Him

 • Padawans whisper

 • Masters hesitate

 • Politicians watch carefully

 • Sith feel noticed

Common murmurs:

 • “He’s too young for that look.”

 • “He doesn’t look like a Jedi.”

 • “He doesn’t look like anything I recognize.”

And the most dangerous one:

“He looks like the Force already chose.”

Final Summary Line

Itharion Skywalker-Shan (AOTC Era)
A face too young for the weight it carries, too calm for the power it holds — and too composed to ever be ignored.

Itharion Skywalker-Shan — The Clone Wars Season 1 to 3 (Before Mortis)

Overall Impression

If AOTC Itharion looked like destiny resting on a young man’s shoulders… Early Clone Wars Itharion looks like destiny has started collecting its due.

He has not lost his beauty. He has earned gravity.

This is the version of him clones follow without orders — and enemies hesitate to engage once they realize who is standing in front of them.

Face Shape — “Sharpened by War”

 • Structure:

   • Still slim and refined, but leaner

   • Cheekbones more pronounced, casting deeper shadows under combat lighting

   • Jawline firmer, more decisive — no longer just aristocratic, now commanding

 • Subtle Wear:

   • Faint tension lines at the brow and between the eyes

   • Not age — responsibility

   • The face of someone who plans battles at night and executes them at dawn

He looks less like a knight of prophecy.

More like a general who survives his own legends.

Eyes — The Living Paradox

Right Eye — The Beacon (Jedi Blue)

 • Brighter than before

 • Almost unnaturally luminous, especially in low light or combat

 • The glow is steady, reassuring, anchoring

 • Clones instinctively orient toward it in chaos

This is the eye soldiers trust.

The one that says:
“Stand here. I will not let you fall.”

Left Eye — The Ember (Sith Red)

 • Darker crimson than before

 • A faint ember-ring glows near the iris edge

 • No madness. No corruption.

 • Contained catastrophe

It doesn’t flare outward.

It pulls inward.

Enemies often report the sensation of being measured — not hated.

This eye does not promise cruelty.

It promises finality.

Together

His heterochromia has become infamous.

Clones whisper:

“One eye saves you. The other decides if you’re already dead.”

Expression — “The Soldier’s Calm”

 • Default expression: controlled, stern, observant

 • Rarely surprised

 • Rarely impressed

But when he smiles:

 • It’s brief

 • Genuine

 • Disarming

It reminds people that the man beneath the legend still exists — and that makes him more dangerous, not less.

When furious, he doesn’t shout.

He goes quiet.

That’s when battles end quickly.

Hair — The Unbound Commander

 • Length: Longer than AOTC — brushing past the shoulders

 • Texture: Wavier, more chaotic

 • Condition:

   • Often sweat-damp

   • Wind-tossed

   • Pushed back with one hand mid-battle

The hair frames his face dramatically, giving him an almost mythic silhouette in motion.

He looks less like a Temple knight…

More like a war god who forgot to cut his hair.

Scars & Physical Wear

 • A faint scar near the brow or cheekbone (barely noticeable unless close)

 • Minor nicks along the jaw or neck from glancing blows

Nothing grotesque.

Nothing disfiguring.

Each scar feels earned — the mark of someone who chose restraint when annihilation was easier.

Presence — “The Myth Takes Root”

This is when the stories start.

Among clones:

 • “He walked through blaster fire.”

 • “Droids shut down when he looked at them.”

 • “The Force moves differently around him.”

Among Jedi:

 • Respect… and unease.

 • He doesn’t seek approval.

 • He doesn’t explain himself unless necessary.

Among enemies:

 • Fear — not of pain

 • Fear of inevitability

He doesn’t feel like a weapon.

He feels like the end state of a conflict.

Visual Comparison Summary

AOTC Itharion:

 • Destiny-bearing knight

 • Ethereal, unsettling, composed

CW S1–3 Itharion:

 • War-forged commander

 • Sharper, calmer, heavier in presence

 • The same man — but now known

Final Line — How History Sees This Version

“He didn’t change.”

“The war simply revealed what was already there.”

Itharion Skywalker-Shan — Clone Wars Season 3 (Post-Mortis) → Season 6

Overall Impression

At first glance, he looks unchanged.

That’s what unsettles people.

Only after prolonged exposure does the difference register: his face has crossed an invisible threshold between human excellence and something rarer.

Not divine in a theatrical sense. Not alien. Just… finished.

As if the Force has stopped “adjusting” him.

Face Structure

Structure remains fundamentally human, but refined into an apex state.

 • Jawline: Still strong and elegant, but now smoother at the transitions — no harsh angles. The jaw feels inevitable, not aggressive. It suggests authority without threat.

 • Cheekbones: Slightly higher prominence than earlier seasons, but softened at the edges. Light catches them cleanly, giving his face a sculpted calm rather than a warrior’s sharpness.

 • Nose & symmetry: Near-perfect alignment, though not uncanny. Any former asymmetries are subtly harmonized — not erased, but resolved.

 • Micro-imperfections: The tiny scars and weathering from earlier seasons are either:

   • faded into near invisibility, or

   • integrated so naturally they no longer read as “damage.”

It feels less like healing… and more like completion.

Skin & Presence

His skin now carries a low-level luminosity.

Not glowing — that would be obvious.
Rather:

 • light seems to linger on him half a second longer

 • shadows soften when crossing his features

 • veins beneath the skin faintly suggest depth, not fragility

In moments of heightened Force alignment, there may be:

 • a faint subdermal radiance along the temples or beneath the eyes

 • an almost imperceptible warmth to his presence

Observers often report:

“He looks… rested. Even when he shouldn’t be.”

Eyes — The Mandatory Change

This is where everything shifts.

Eye Color: Deep Electric Amethyst Purple With Traces Of Neon Violet And Indigo

(Not Sith. Not Jedi. Not theatrical.)

 • A deep, electrified amethyst — with intricate webbed fractures of neon violet and indigo light

 • No glow unless power is actively channeled

 • The color is uniform, stable, absolute

What makes them unsettling is not brightness — it’s depth.

People feel like:

 • they are being looked through, not at

 • time slows slightly when he holds eye contact

 • there is no emotional turbulence behind the gaze — only awareness

This is the visual marker of balance achieved.

Expression

His expressions become economical.

 • He no longer reacts reflexively

 • Smiles are rare, but devastatingly sincere

 • Anger, when it appears, is precise — never uncontrolled

The most common expression others note is:

“Serene, but weighted.”

Like someone who knows exactly how things end — and has already accepted it.

Hair (Subtle Evolution)

 • Still long, dark chestnut, wavy

 • More disciplined in its wildness — it falls where it chooses

 • Rarely appears disheveled, even after combat

The hair frames his face like a visual echo of balance:

controlled chaos, not restraint

Padmé, in particular, notices that it feels the same to the touch — but somehow steadier, warmer.

The Unspoken Effect

People who knew him before Mortis often can’t articulate what changed.

They say things like:

 • “He hasn’t aged… but he has.”

 • “He feels closer. And farther.”

 • “It’s like he already knows the outcome.”

Jedi Masters find him harder to read. Sith find him harder to provoke. Clones trust him instinctively.

Summary

A refined, apex human appearance — flawless not through perfection, but through balance. Subtle divine harmonization without loss of humanity. Amethyst eyes signaling total Force equilibrium. Serene, inevitable presence. A face that no longer seeks destiny — because it has already met it.

Itharion Skywalker-Shan — Season 7 / Revenge of the Sith

“The One Who Stands at the End of Becoming”

Face Structure — Completion, Not Change

The foundation is unchanged from Post-Mortis.

What’s different is weight.

Not physical weight — existential weight.

 • Jawline: Same symmetry, but heavier in presence. It reads as unyielding now, not merely refined.

 • Cheekbones: Slightly fuller, less sharp — not softness, but finality. The face of someone who no longer needs to harden himself.

 • Brow: Calm, settled. No tension lines. No anticipation. Nothing unresolved lives here anymore.

 • Nose & Mouth: Identical proportions, but the mouth rests in a neutral line that implies decision, not restraint.

He no longer looks like someone carrying destiny.

He looks like someone who has accepted responsibility for it.

Eyes — Indigo of Sovereignty (Final State)

This isn’t balance anymore. This is mastery.

Eyes of Infinite Accord

 • Color:

   • Deep saturated indigo, almost black at the edges

   • Violet only visible when light hits them directly

 • Depth:

   • Impossible depth — like staring into deep space rather than energy

 • Glow:

   • None, unless he wills it

   • When it appears, it’s subtle — like starlight behind glass

 • Pupils:

   • Perfectly round

   • Absolute black

   • Do not dilate under fear, rage, or exertion

These eyes do not signal power.

They assume it.

When Sith look into them, they feel measured. When Jedi look into them, they feel seen. When Palpatine looks into them… he feels recognized.

And that scares him beyond belief.

Skin & Features — The Still Human God

 • Skin remains warm, alive, unmistakably human

 • No visible subdermal light anymore — it’s internalized

 • Scars remain, but are now silent

   • They don’t draw attention

   • They feel like punctuation marks in a finished sentence

He looks like:

“A man who survived everything required to become this.”

Hair — Authority Without Ceremony

 • Slightly shorter than S6

 • Still wavy, still natural

 • Kept back more often, not for vanity — for clarity

 • When loose, it frames his face in a way that feels intentional, almost regal

Not styled.

Settled.

Expression — The End of Inner Conflict

This is the most important change.

He no longer looks like he’s restraining himself.

 • Default expression: calm inevitability

 • He listens more than he speaks

 • When he speaks, it lands

There is:

 • No visible anger

 • No visible fear

 • No visible ambition

Only certainty.

When he smiles, it’s rare — and devastatingly sincere.

Padmé knows the difference. Palpatine hates it. Anakin feels it — and is both proud and resentful of it. For the simple reason that he knows how much it stripped him of.

Presence — The Axis of the Era

Before:

 • His presence filled rooms

Now:

 • Rooms organize around him

The Force does not ripple when he enters.
It settles.

Force-sensitives describe it as:

“Standing at the point where choice ends and consequence begins.”

He does not dominate through pressure. He dominates through clarity.

Final Summary Line

Season 7 Itharion does not look divine. Divinity looks like him now.

“He is not the future of the Force. He is the point at which it stopped searching.”

Height: 4’2 (Phantom Menace) 6’2 - 7’5 (Attack of the Clones - Clone Wars Season 1 to 7 - Revenge of The Sith. He can change his height at will between 6’2 and 7’5)

A/N — On Itharion’s Height Variability: Itharion’s height is not an illusion nor a Force trick. It is a rare biological–Force resonance inherited through his lineage, allowing his body to subtly reconfigure itself in response to intent, circumstance, and internal equilibrium. The change is fully physical, medically consistent, and leaves no detectable Force manipulation—only the quiet impression that he is always exactly as tall as the moment requires.

Midichlorian count: 30.000 (Phantom Menace) 40.000 (Attack of the Clones - Clone Wars Season 1 - 3 until the Mortis Arc) 60.000 (Clone Wars Season 3 after the Mortis Arc to Season 7 - Revenge of The Sith)

Physique (Attack of The Clones - Clone Wars - Revenge of The Sith):

PRIME DIVINE PHYSIQUE — “THE BALANCED FORM”

I. FRAME & SKELETAL STRUCTURE

Shoulder Width

 • Broad clavicles, natural V-taper

 • Shoulder-to-hip ratio: ~1.65–1.7 : 1

Ribcage

 • Deep, not flared

 • Chest expands forward, not outward

 • Gives the impression of contained power

Waist

 • Tight, compact

 • Visually narrow even when relaxed

This contrast is what makes his upper body look massive without bulk.

II. MUSCULATURE — DENSE DISPLAY FORM

Upper Body

Chest

 • Thick pectorals with vertical depth

 • Not “shelf-like” — sculpted, natural

 • Looks heavy, feels heavier

Arms

 • Upper arms: full but not swollen

 • Triceps dominant over biceps (functional power)

 • Forearms thick, veined subtly

Grip feels like stone wrapped in heat.

Back

 • Wide lats that don’t flare unless he moves

 • Dense mid-back — armor sits perfectly

 • When he turns, his silhouette changes noticeably

Lower Body

Glutes & Hips

 • Powerful but controlled

 • Built for explosive movement, not bulk

Thighs

 • Thick, corded

 • No “runner skinny,” no bodybuilder ballooning

Calves

 • Naturally large

 • Dense, spring-loaded appearance

He looks grounded — anchored.

III. BODY FAT & SURFACE DETAIL

Body fat: ~7–9% equivalent

But this is deceptive.

 • Skin is smooth, warm, and alive

 • No unhealthy dryness

 • Muscles are defined without looking starved

Veins:

 • Visible only when exerting or emotionally engaged

 • Never grotesque

Scars:

 • Few, faint

 • Fade faster than mortal scars

 • Some never fully disappear — chosen, not accidental

IV. “WEIGHT THAT LIES”

This is where it gets fun.

Apparent Weight (to the eye)

~220–235 lbs (100–107 kg)

Athletic. Powerful. Believable.

Actual Mass

~320–360 lbs (145–163 kg)
(and this is conservative)

Why:

 • Musculature is Force-condensed

 • Bone density far exceeds human norms

 • Internal structure carries harmonic mass

When:

 • A chair creaks under him

 • A floor subtly resonates

 • A handshake feels… wrong

People notice.

But they don’t understand why.

V. DENSITY TEST (IN-WORLD TELL)

Common reactions:

 • Someone grabs his arm and pauses

 • A sparring partner misjudges resistance

 • A lift meant to strain him doesn’t

The thought that crosses their mind:

“That’s not muscle. That’s something else.”

VI. MOVEMENT & POSTURE

Default Stance

 • Relaxed

 • Balanced

 • Weight evenly distributed

He never looks tense.

Walking

 • Quiet footsteps

 • No heavy stomp despite mass

 • Floorboards complain after he passes

Combat Readiness

 • Stillness before motion

 • No telegraphing

 • Movement feels inevitable

VII. CLOTHING & ARMOR FIT

He favors:

 • Fitted tunics

 • Tailored jackets

 • Armor that follows contour, not exaggeration

Nothing screams vanity.

But everything acknowledges the form.

VIII. PSYCHOLOGICAL EFFECT ON OTHERS

Without power use:

 • Intimidating, but approachable

 • Commanding, not threatening

 • Attractive in a mythic way

With attention focused:

 • People become self-conscious

 • Force-sensitives feel pressure

 • Non-sensitives feel watched by something old

IX. FINAL CANON STATEMENT

Itharion Skywalker-Shan’s physique is:

 • Dense beyond physics

 • Beautiful without excess

 • Powerful without strain

 • Humble by choice, not limitation

A body not meant to survive the universe.

A body meant to stand at its center.

Personality/Combat Style:

Itharion is introspective and serious when it counts, but his humanity shows in flashes of wit, playfulness, and irreverent humor, especially around those he trusts. His calm isn’t cold; it’s chosen. And beneath that restraint is someone who laughs like he fights… without half-measures.

Itharion Skywalker-Shan’s approach to combat defies conventional categorization. Trained under Revan himself while also guided by the luminous spirit of Bastila Shan, his foundation is the fusion of two legacies once thought irreconcilable; discipline and passion, wisdom and will. He does not follow a doctrine — he embodies their evolution: the student who learned every form, then discarded the boundaries that defined them. At his core, Itharion is not a duelist. He is a strategist. Every movement is a calculation, every strike the conclusion of a silent equation. He analyzes rhythm, weight, and psychological momentum in real time, turning battle into a living conversation of intent and consequence. He adapts to his opponent’s breath, the tilt of their wrist, the flicker in their eyes, adjusting as fluidly as the Force itself. Itharion stands as one of the few beings in galactic history to have transcended the boundaries of traditional saber discipline. Where most warriors dedicate their lives to mastering a single form, he has mastered them all; from the primal strikes of the first generation to the forbidden harmonics of forms long thought extinct. Yet mastery, for him, is not possession, it is integration. He moves not as one who wields many styles, but as one who has dissolved their boundaries altogether. His combat philosophy is not multiplicity… it is synthesis, the perfect equilibrium between will, intellect, instinct, and the Force itself. Form I – Shii-Cho (The Way of the Sarlacc): The beginning and the end of all swordplay. In Itharion’s hands, Shii-Cho becomes a meditation in motion, the rhythmic heartbeat beneath all complexity. It is where balance begins, where chaos is first ordered. Every motion stems from its clarity: centered, humble, devoid of excess. Form II – Makashi (The Way of the Ysalamiri): Refinement distilled to its purest form. Makashi is Itharion’s scalpel; elegant, exacting, mercilessly precise. It is the duel reduced to mathematics: efficiency over strength, grace over aggression. Yet unlike most practitioners, Itharion tempers Makashi’s arrogance with humility, transforming its elegance into insight. Form III – Soresu (The Way of the Mynock): The shield that endures all storms. Itharion wields Soresu as an unbreachable sphere, not static but fluid, capable of absorbing violence without retaliation. His calm is weaponized patience, a void into which aggression collapses. When he chooses to strike, it is not reaction but resolution. Form IV – Ataru (The Way of the Hawk-Bat): The liberation of movement, the language of wind and momentum. Itharion harnesses Ataru not merely for spectacle but for unpredictability: ascending through Force-enhanced leaps, descending like a meteor, every strike a blur of grace and velocity. His body becomes the weaponized expression of freedom itself. Form V – Shien / Djem So (The Way of the Krayt Dragon): The translation of defense into dominion. Through Shien, Itharion commands the battlefield with controlled power; returning blasterfire with geometric precision, converting enemy strength into their undoing. Through Djem So, his counterstrikes carry the authority of inevitability: a mountain that moves when it chooses. Form VI – Niman (The Way of the Rancor): Harmony between extremes. Niman is Itharion’s connective tissue: the silent architecture that binds every other form together. Through it, he transitions seamlessly from grace to power, from stillness to fury, without fracture. In his philosophy, Niman is not a compromise, but balance made manifest. Form VII – Vaapad / Juyo (The Way of the Vornskr): Controlled ferocity, the mastery of chaos without surrender to it. Itharion’s Vaapad is not Windu’s dangerous dance with darkness, but its transcendence: the conversion of inner turbulence into clarity. His strikes seem wild, but each motion is governed by perfect serenity, thunder guided by silence. Where Vaapad refines emotion into light, Itharion’s command of Juyo embraces the storm itself. He channels raw, unrestrained energy with terrifying precision; every slash and pivot fueled by instinct honed to perfection. It is passion without corruption, aggression without hatred, the primal language of battle spoken through discipline. In his hands, Juyo becomes not chaos, but harmony born of fire. Form VIII – Sokan (The Way of the Swift Foot): The geometry of the terrain itself. Itharion uses Sokan to weaponize movement and environment alike, using the high ground not as advantage, but as instrument. Every wall, ledge, or incline becomes part of his choreography. His battlefield is alive, reshaped by every step. Form IX – Shien Dai (The Way of the Storm): Momentum as shield, velocity as retaliation. Through Shien Dai, Itharion redirects fire and energy with unpredictable angularity… a storm that reflects aggression back upon its source. He wields defense like thunder, unpredictable and unrelenting. Form X – Nevui (The Way of the Hidden Edge): Subtlety elevated to science. Nevui teaches the manipulation of rhythm; micro-hesitations, false openings, phantom patterns. Itharion uses it to control tempo, to dictate the very cadence of combat. It is not a duel; it is a conversation, and he always speaks last. Form XI – Tràkata (The Way of the Flickering Blade): The art of deception. By extinguishing and reigniting his blade mid-flow, Itharion turns impossibility into advantage; striking through guards, feinting through expectation. Combined with Haronet’s kinetic control and Viendul’s dual balance, Tràkata becomes not trickery, but strategy incarnate. Form XII – Sapendo (The Way of Perception): The intuitive form. Sapendo is not fought with the eyes, but with the Force. Itharion surrenders conscious control, allowing precognition to shape every strike. He becomes an instrument of inevitability, responding to what will happen, not what has. Form XIII – Discreti (The Way of the Silent Strike): Invisibility through stillness. Discreti channels minimalism; the removal of sound, motion, and even presence. Itharion uses it when precision and subtlety outweigh spectacle, turning lethality into meditation. One strike. One breath. No witnesses. Form VIIIb – Kendosu (The Way of the Broken Circle): A paradox of defense, circular parries that shatter the aggressor’s rhythm. Kendosu allows Itharion to control multiple opponents simultaneously, turning group coordination into chaos. Every loop, every pivot, folds upon itself until resistance collapses inward. Form XIIIb – Renzou (The Way of the Unyielding Flow): Motion eternal. Renzou fuses Soresu’s patience with Vaapad’s drive, creating a current that absorbs and redirects infinitely. Itharion’s strikes feel endless, one flowing seamlessly into the next, water wearing down stone. Form XIV – Ikodu (The Way of the Conduit): The perfect union of the physical and the metaphysical. Itharion channels the Force directly through each strike, turning blade movement into shockwave, parry into telekinetic burst. His saber becomes a conductor, each swing vibrating with invisible aftershock. Form XV – Viendul (The Way of the Two Winds): The doctrine of duality. Viendul defines Itharion’s Jar’Kai mastery; one blade calm and deliberate, the other wild and unrestrained. His sabers never mirror one another; they converse. Together they represent harmony through asymmetry, two winds spiraling toward a single eye. Form XX – Haronet (The Way of the Rakata): The lost primal form of the Infinite Empire, the weaponization of will itself. Haronet is control through dominance: imposing one’s presence upon the flow of combat, commanding movement and energy as if they were extensions of one’s own intent. Itharion wields Haronet not to destroy, but to conduct. Form XXIX – Am-Makash (The Way of the Bound Star): The forbidden synthesis; the ultimate union of discipline and chaos. Am-Makash transcends style; it is the embodiment of every form reconciled into one living system. To the untrained, his motion appears disorderly, but to those attuned, it is divine order cloaked in entropy, a star bound in perfect gravity. Jar’Kai – The Way of the Dual Soul: Itharion’s dual-wielding is not mere efficiency, it is philosophy. Each hand represents a principle: serenity and wrath, control and surrender. His Jar’Kai flow resembles conversation between equals, every strike from one saber answered, or contradicted, by the other. Jar’kata – The Way of the Divided Path: An aggressive evolution of Jar’Kai. Itharion’s Jar’kata blends offensive ferocity with deceptive dual precision, blades alternating roles in rapid succession, blurring offense and defense beyond recognition. It is both chaos and choreography. Corusco Boreas – The Way of the Celestial Gale: A forgotten technique of speed and wind alignment. Movements generate air pressure and shock, creating microbursts around each swing. Itharion’s strikes displace air with such velocity that they distort light, appearing as flashes of lightning without thunder. Kadeesh – The Way of the Spiraling Star: An esoteric art combining acrobatics, circular motion, and continuous rotation. Kadeesh amplifies Ataru’s fluidity with centrifugal precision, every spin concealing a dozen possible strikes. To witness it is to see the Force made visible, spiraling around a calm center. Scherma – The Way of the Pure Blade: Derived from ancient Corellian swordplay, Scherma emphasizes linear economy and parry-riposte perfection. Itharion’s version fuses Makashi’s precision with Nevui’s rhythm control, a minimalist art where every strike is geometry, every kill a theorem proven. To categorize Itharion’s combat is futile. He is the embodiment of transition; every stance alive, every form breathing into the next. When he fights, he does not adopt a discipline; he becomes the discipline. In him, every form remembers its origin, and transcends it. What defines Itharion’s combat is not mastery alone, but the fluid fusion of incompatible philosophies. He can blend Ataru’s acrobatics with Niman’s poise, or combine Tràkata’s deception with Haronet’s primal rhythm. He will parry like Makashi, pivot like Sokan, strike like Vaapad, then vanish into Discreti, all within a single engagement. This unpredictability breaks even experienced duelists. Facing him is not to face a single warrior, but a dozen masters speaking through one form. He often begins fights defensively, assessing the opponent through Soresu’s serenity, before escalating through Djem So’s ripostes or Viendul’s dual harmonics, adapting to whatever frequency of aggression he perceives. Each shift feels deliberate, as if he’s allowing the battle itself to teach him how best to end it. Itharion’s greatest strength lies not in the Force nor the blade, but in his clarity of intent. He fights not for dominance, but for understanding. His style is not chaos, it is listening. When training Younglings, a recurring phrase he uses, and used especially during the early days in The Reforged Jedi Order, is: “Every opponent is a mirror. Break them, and you shatter a reflection of yourself. Control them, and you master nothing. But understand them — and the battle is already over.” In combat, he does not lose composure. His blade never screams, it sings. Those who have faced him describe his movements as “music given form”: rhythms that shift from tranquil to violent without ever losing harmony. He wields the Force as a conductor wields silence, using the space between strikes as much as the strikes themselves. When he moves, time seems to obey his rhythm, not the other way around.

THE EMPEROR’S ECHO — Behavioral Traits of Valkorion Manifested in Itharion Skywalker-Shan

Classification: High-Relevance Behavioral & Force Phenomenon
Access Level: Golden Priority / Restricted to Reforged Jedi High Council, SIS Black Archive, and Reforged Jedi Force-Studies Division
Compiled By: Master T’vo Harren, Senior Archivist of Comparative Force Lineages
Revision: 4.2A

Overview

Itharion Skywalker-Shan, the biological son of the redeemed and reborn Valkorion and Senya Tirall, exhibits a discrete set of behavioral characteristics that closely mirror those documented in the Eternal Emperor’s historical and psychological profiles. These traits, collectively designated “The Emperor’s Echo,” are not signs of corruption nor indicators of shared ideology. Rather, they represent instinctual and physiological inheritances encoded through rebirth, shaped by lineage, Force imprinting, and ancestral resonance.

The Echo does not manifest in Itharion as cruelty, ambition, or domination—hallmarks of Valkorion’s tyranny. Instead, it appears as neutral behaviors, instinctive patterns, and mannerisms arising from bloodline and Force imprint alike. Where Valkorion once embodied stillness as a means of control, Itharion embodies it as a tool of clarity.

I. Physical & Behavioral Resonances

1. The Emperor’s Walk (Designation: AUREK-1)

Itharion moves with the same deliberate, unhurried stride historically attributed to Valkorion:

 • smooth and balanced

 • silent despite environmental factors

 • inherently authoritative

Witnesses describe his movements as “inevitably directed,” as though guided by unseen currents. There is no aggression in this gait—only certainty.

2. Sovereign Stillness (Designation: BESH-3)

When deep in thought or observation, Itharion falls into a state of preternatural stillness. He:

 • minimizes unnecessary motion

 • maintains fixed eye contact

 • radiates a sense of controlled quiet

This mirrors the Eternal Emperor’s famed “predatory composure,” though without the underlying malice. Itharion’s stillness is contemplative, not coercive.

3. Subtle Entrance Phenomenon (Designation: CRESH-5)

Multiple accounts describe Itharion as “appearing” in a room rather than entering it. This effect is attributed to:

 • naturally quiet footfalls

 • minimal movement prior to speech

 • Force presence suppression (see Section IV)

This trait creates an illusion of apparition but has no hostile intent.

4. The Imperial Gaze (Designation: DORN-2)

Itharion possesses an evaluating, penetrating gaze that mirrors Valkorion’s psychological dominance profile. However, unlike the Emperor, whose gaze was cold and dissecting, Itharion’s carries compassion beneath the intensity.

Observers report feeling “seen through,” yet not judged.

II. Vocal Echoes

1. Cadence of Command (Designation: ESK-4)

Itharion’s speech pattern echoes Valkorion’s measured, deliberate cadence:

 • slow pacing

 • precise diction

 • weighted pauses

This voice quality naturally draws attention, compelling listeners to silence without invocation of the Force.

2. Stress-Response Vocal Stability (Designation: FERN-1)

In moments of crisis, Itharion’s voice becomes lower, calmer, and sharper—identical to Valkorion’s documented “crisis cadence.” Where others shout, Itharion grows quieter, more focused.

This trait has been observed to stabilize allied morale.

3. Harmonic Resonance (Designation: GREK-7)

When emotionally heightened, Itharion’s voice briefly acquires secondary harmonic layers. These are not consciously controlled. They are distinct from his amplified Aeternum Vox (God Voice) but appear to be a precursor or low-threshold echo of it.

III. Intellectual & Strategic Echoes

1. Predictive Intuition (Designation: HERF-2)

Itharion shows a heightened ability to anticipate actions, intentions, and outcomes with uncanny accuracy. This is linked both to Valkorion’s documented foresight patterns and to inherited Shan perceptual sensitivity.

He is capable of identifying flaws in plans at a glance, mentally simulating multiple outcomes with little cognitive strain.

2. Economy of Action (Designation: ISK-6)

Itharion tends toward the path requiring:

 • minimal steps

 • minimal wasted energy

 • maximal tactical payoff

This is Valkorion’s efficiency reframed through Itharion’s ethical discipline.

3. Aura of Natural Leadership (Designation: JENTH-8)

Even without asserting authority, Itharion is instinctively looked to for direction.
This effect is consistent across:

 • soldiers

 • Jedi

 • civilians

 • Force-sensitives

It is not a Force compulsion. It is lineage-based presence.

IV. Force-Based Residual Imprints

1. Gravitational Quietude (Designation: KRILL-4)

Itharion’s presence in the Force is deep and centered, reminiscent of a “quiet star.”
It creates a sense of gravity, drawing attention without force.

Notably, it is calmer and more compassionate than Valkorion’s oppressive “silent void.”

2. Presence Collapse (Designation: LEH-1)

Itharion can subconsciously reduce his Force signature to near zero—making him appear mundane or unremarkable. This differs from Sith concealment arts; it is a passive inheritance of Valkorion’s ability to mask his godlike presence.

Itharion uses it sparingly and ethically.

3. High-Order Control Aptitude (Designation: MERK-9)

Itharion demonstrates natural affinity for:

 • advanced telekinetic precision

 • stasis and suspension techniques

 • willpower-anchored Force abilities

These mirror Valkorion’s finesse, though Itharion employs them with far more restraint.

V. Non-Inherited Traits (Critical Notes)

Itharion does not inherit the following former defining aspects of Valkorion:

 • megalomania

 • emotional detachment

 • destructive ambition

 • hunger for immortality

 • cruelty or sadism

 • manipulative tendencies

Extensive psychological and Force analysis confirm these traits were not genetic but ideological choices made across centuries.

Itharion inherits presence, not pathology.

Conclusion

The Emperor’s Echo does not mark Itharion Skywalker-Shan as a threat, successor, or reincarnation of Valkorion. Instead, it represents the inevitable resonance of bloodline and rebirth—the shadows and stillness of a lineage reforged through compassion, discipline, and newfound balance.

Where Valkorion embodied domination, Itharion embodies direction. Where Valkorion wielded presence as a weapon, Itharion wields it as a responsibility.

The Echo is not the Emperor reborn. It is the Emperor redeemed into his son—and transformed into something greater.

THE MOTHER’S ECHO — Behavioral Traits of Senya Tirall Manifested in Itharion Skywalker-Shan

Classification: High-Relevance Behavioral & Force Phenomenon
Access Level: Reforged Council Priority / Reforged Jedi Force Study Clearance
Compiled By: Master T’vo Harren, Senior Archivist of Comparative Force Lineages
Revision: 2.9C

Overview

Where Itharion Skywalker-Shan inherits from Valkorion a quiet gravity, strategic precision, and preternatural stillness, he inherits from Senya Tirall the qualities that give those traits humanity. The Mother’s Echo refers to the behavioral, emotional, and instinctual attributes passed from Senya to her son—not through the throne, but through the heart.

A Knight of Zakuul, protector, warrior, and mother, Senya embodied a rare balance of compassion and lethal skill. Her influence manifests in Itharion not as shadow or silence, but as warmth, loyalty, restraint, and the fierce moral clarity she carried even in the darkest hours of her life.

These traits counterbalance the Emperor’s Echo. Where Valkorion’s imprint gives shape, Senya’s gives soul.

Together, they form the dual inheritance that defines Itharion’s identity.

I. Behavioral Resonances

1. The Protector’s Stance (Designation: AUREK-9)

When Itharion is around those he cares for, his posture subtly shifts into the same protective readiness Senya displayed around her children and allies:

 • weight centered and grounded

 • shoulders slightly relaxed but prepared

 • stance angled to shield others indirectly

This is not conscious. It is instinct.

Even Jedi Guardians have remarked that Itharion “moves like someone who already expects to take the first hit.”

2. The Warm Vigil (Designation: BESH-4)

Itharion shares Senya’s habit of watching over others in silence—without intrusion, without judgment. This was once described as:

“The kind of vigilance that cares, not controls.”

He checks wounds, senses emotional shifts, and positions himself in ways that allow him to intervene the moment danger arises. It is inherently non-aggressive, unlike Valkorion’s analytic stillness.

This is pure Senya.

3. The Quiet Reach (Designation: CRESH-2)

Senya had a subtle, comforting presence in tense rooms—an emotional gravity that calmed conflict before it escalated.

Itharion carries the same gift:

 • soothing tension

 • lowering aggression

 • calming agitated Force signatures

These effects occur without deliberate action.

It is the echo of a mother who once held a broken empire together by the strength of her compassion.

II. Vocal & Emotional Echoes

1. Senya’s Tone of Truth (Designation: DORN-5)

Senya spoke with a kind of sincerity that could disarm even her enemies.

Itharion possesses this same vocal quality:

 • warm

 • direct

 • steady

 • quietly persuasive

Jedi and soldiers alike find themselves trusting him instinctively—not because of charisma, but because he sounds like someone incapable of deceit.

This trait is documented to be most prominent when he is speaking to those in pain or fear.

2. Emotional Containment (Designation: ESK-2)

Itharion inherited Senya’s ability to carry immense emotional weight without allowing it to break his composure.

This does not mean emotional suppression.
Rather, it is:

 • internal strength

 • steady self-regulation

 • the ability to act clearly even while grieving or afraid

The Order has noted this stability repeatedly in crisis reports.

3. Protective Fury (Designation: FERN-9)

When others are threatened, especially innocents, Itharion exhibits a sudden, sharp intensity identical to Senya’s rare but devastating battle rage.

This state is:

 • controlled

 • focused

 • channeled entirely into protection

Unlike Sith rage, this is not fueled by hatred. It is fueled by love.

III. Combat Echoes

1. The Knight’s Flow (Designation: GREK-3)

Itharion’s combat movements carry Senya’s blend of elegance and deadly efficiency.

Observers note:

 • footwork that pursues balance before offense

 • momentum that reflects emotional intuition

 • blade arcs that mimic Senya’s Knightly forms

Where Valkorion’s Echo defines power, Senya’s Echo defines grace.

2. The Mercy Instinct (Designation: HERF-7)

Senya never killed unless necessary. Itharion shares this instinctive restraint, even in the heat of battle.

He consistently:

 • disables rather than maims

 • avoids killing blows when alternatives exist

 • seeks solutions beyond violence

This is a profound deviation from both Jedi dogma and Eternal imperial doctrine, and thus is traced directly to Senya herself.

IV. Force-Based Echoes

1. Empathic Resonance (Designation: ISK-1)

Senya possessed an unusually strong emotional sensitivity that scholars now believe bordered on a dormant empathic ability.

Itharion has inherited this trait at a higher level:

 • he senses emotional “temperature”

 • he discerns truth from fear or confusion

 • he feels moral dissonance instinctively

This makes deception nearly impossible around him.

2. The Guardian’s Light (Designation: JENTH-4)

While not technically a Light-side manifestation, Itharion exhibits an aura effect similar to Senya’s rare “guardian flare”—an instinctive surge of protective Force energy.

Occurrences include:

 • shielding allies from a surprise attack

 • instinctively intercepting Force lightning

 • generating a burst of stabilizing Force energy

This effect is well-documented and has saved lives.

3. Healing Intuition (Designation: KRILL-8)

Itharion possess, like Senya:

 • intuitive first-aid

 • rapid assessment of injuries

 • natural calming influence conducive to healing

He stabilizes others simply by being present.

V. Non-Inherited Traits (Critical Notes)

Itharion does not inherit:

 • Senya’s occasional self-doubt

 • her history of emotional avoidance

 • her tendency to blame herself for others’ suffering

 • her fear of failing those she loved

These were psychological scars, not genetic or spiritual imprints.

Itharion retains her love, her loyalty, her compassion—without inheriting her wounds.

Conclusion

Where Valkorion’s Echo manifests in shadow, stillness, and inherited majesty, the Mother’s Echo manifests in warmth, resolve, and the sacred instinct to protect.

Senya Tirall’s influence is not loud. It is not sharp. It is not imperial.

It is the quiet strength of someone who lived her entire life in the service of love, even when that love brought her pain.

Itharion Skywalker-Shan is the vessel of that legacy. Through him, Senya’s gentlest qualities find new life—balanced against his father’s gravity, forming a harmony neither parent ever achieved.

The Mother’s Echo is not the shadow of a past life. It is the living heartbeat of everything his mother fought for.

And because of it… Itharion does not simply carry power.

He carries hope.

THE VOICE OF ITHARION SKYWALKER-SHAN

“The Emperor’s Echo, Tempered by the Mother’s Heart”

CORE VOICE PROFILE

Pitch:

 • Naturally low baritone, but not gravelly

 • Sits comfortably below Anakin’s voice

 • Resonant rather than loud

Texture:

 • Smooth, controlled, and clean

 • No rasp, no growl, no forced menace

 • Feels anchored, like stone warmed by sunlight

Immediate Impression:

This is a voice that does not need to raise itself to be heard.

When Itharion speaks, people don’t lean in because they can’t hear him — they lean in because something in them wants to.

THE EMPEROR’S ECHO — HOW VALKORION LIVES IN HIS VOICE

1. Cadence of Command

Itharion speaks slowly — but not lazily.

 • Each sentence is measured

 • Each pause is intentional

 • He never rushes a thought

He sounds like someone who has already considered:

 • the objection

 • the counterargument

 • the consequence

…before finishing the sentence.

Listeners often realize they’ve stopped breathing while he talks.

2. Crisis Cadence (Stress Response)

Under pressure, his voice does something unsettling:

It drops.

 • Softer

 • Slower

 • Sharper

Where others raise volume, Itharion lowers it — and suddenly the room bends toward him.

This is Valkorion’s legacy:

Calm as a weapon.

But in Itharion, it stabilizes rather than dominates.

Soldiers report:

“When he spoke, I knew we weren’t going to die.”

3. Harmonic Undertone (Unconscious Force Effect)

When emotionally charged — anger, resolve, grief — a subtle phenomenon occurs:

 • A secondary harmonic vibrates beneath his words

 • Not loud

 • Not theatrical

 • Almost felt more than heard

It’s like his voice has depth, not volume — as if there’s something vast standing just behind it.

Force-sensitives describe it as:

“Listening to a star speak through a man.”

This is not the God Voice. It is the echo of something far greater being carefully restrained.

THE MOTHER’S ECHO — HOW SENYA SOFTENS HIS VOICE

4. Tone of Truth

Unlike Valkorion, Itharion’s voice carries warmth.

Not softness — warmth.

 • Honest

 • Direct

 • Unadorned

 • Never theatrical

When he comforts someone, his voice becomes:

 • slightly lower

 • slower

 • gentler

Not pitying. Not distant.

He sounds like someone who will stay.

People believe him instinctively — not because he persuades, but because lying would feel wrong in his presence.

5. Emotional Containment

Itharion never sounds out of control.

Even when furious:

 • His voice does not crack

 • It tightens

 • Focuses

 • Narrows

This is Senya’s legacy — carrying pain without letting it spill outward.

When he says:

“Enough.”

It is not a threat.

It is a boundary.

6. Protective Fury (Rare State)

When innocents are threatened, his voice changes in a very specific way:

 • Still calm

 • Still quiet

 • But edged with something final

The warmth vanishes. The resonance deepens. The pauses shorten.

This is the voice that makes enemies realize — too late — that they’ve crossed into sacred ground.

“Step away.”
Not shouted.
Not negotiated.

Final.

HOW DIFFERENT PEOPLE HEAR HIM

Jedi Council

 • “Disturbingly composed”

 • “Too controlled for his age”

 • “Feels like a Master even when he is silent”

They don’t fear his power. They fear how naturally he wields restraint.

Clone Troopers

 • “Sir sounds like he’s already seen the end… and chose us anyway.”

 • “When he gives an order, it feels like protection, not command.”

They would follow his voice into hell — not because he demands it, but because he would go first.

Enemies

They describe it as:

 • calm

 • polite

 • terrifying

Not because it threatens — but because it expects compliance from reality itself.

REAL-WORLD VOICE REFERENCES (BLENDED, NOT COPIED)

To help you hear him:

 • Young Jeremy Irons — measured authority

 • Oscar Isaac (quiet moments) — warmth + gravity

 • Hayden Christensen (restrained scenes) — emotional containment

 • Mads Mikkelsen (low-volume menace) — inevitability without shouting

Blend these — then remove theatricality.

What remains is Itharion.

FINAL DEFINITION

Itharion Skywalker-Shan’s voice is not a weapon. It is a constant.

It does not seek dominance. It does not beg attention. It does not shout its power.

It speaks like someone who knows:

 • who he is

 • what must be done

 • and who he will protect

“When he speaks, the Force listens — not because it must… but because it recognizes him.”

Physical Abilities:

Itharion Skywalker-Shan stands at 6’2”, his frame a deliberate equilibrium between power and precision, the kind of strength born not of excess but of control. His body is the visible product of a life forged through war, meditation, and purpose. Every contour of his musculature, every scar and movement, serves function before form. He moves like a man who has mastered gravity, not escaped it; every step deliberate, shoulders squared but never rigid, a soldier’s economy fused with a duelist’s grace. There is no vanity in his physique; only evidence of relentless refinement, and the will to remain adaptable under any condition. His physicality evokes the same paradox that defines his spirit: the calm of discipline concealing the violence of potential. The body type is balanced, neither the bulk of a gladiator nor the leanness of an acrobat, but an optimized fusion of both. Broad shoulders and a solid chest anchor a narrow, defined waist, creating a silhouette that radiates stability and command. The arms carry dense, compact strength; the forearms corded and sinewed, the kind built from repeated strain rather than ornament. The hands, marked by light calluses and faint micro-scars, reveal the truth of his training, every gesture honed, every grip measured. His legs are powerful and long, built for sudden acceleration and controlled landings, his movement always silent, balanced, purposeful. Even in repose, he appears poised for motion, an animal of discipline rather than instinct. Observers have described his posture as “coiled stillness”: the body at rest but ready to strike, the surface tranquil yet alive with potential energy. Itharion’s musculature is not aesthetic but engineered, functional density layered by discipline. Years of saber combat, hand-to-hand training, and environmental survival have produced a physique that marries explosive speed with endurance. His chest and shoulders form the cornerstone of his power: full, sculpted, and battle-hardened. The back, broad and carved with visible depth, reveals the true architecture of his strength; a complex system of trained stability, refined for rapid motion and sustained tension. Across it run faint white lines, twin scars that trace the memory of cortosis discharge during an early campaign. The core, where his strength is truly centered, is both visibly defined and remarkably flexible. The abdominal structure, lean but powerful, allows for rotational strength and controlled breathing: evidence of both martial and meditative mastery. Beneath the skin, tendons shift like drawn cables; every motion follows intention. His stamina borders on superhuman, not in bursts of Force-enhanced exertion, but in sustained durability. He can fight, endure, and rebuild long after others would collapse. It is the endurance of a man who has refused to yield too many times to count. His skin bears the map of his history, not decorated but recorded. A warm tone, faintly weathered by alien suns and carbon winds, gives his form a sense of permanence. Micro-scars thread across his chest and forearms like faint constellations, invisible until light catches them. Each one a memory of combat, trial, or survival. Distinct markings include: Left shoulder blade — a shallow saber cut, cleanly healed but never erased. Right ribs — a diagonal vibrospear burn, now silvery against the flesh. Over the heart — a faint circular scar from a Force-resonance implosion, the mark of his trial. No tattoos, no brands, no sigils. He bears no deliberate symbols because his body itself is the symbol, the living record of what it costs to persist. Itharion moves with unnerving efficiency, not the trained posture of a soldier, but the intuitive economy of one who has internalized war. Every step is silent, balanced on the edges of readiness. When he turns, it is with total alignment: hips, shoulders, and eyes working as a single mechanism. During combat, witnesses describe him as disorientingly fluid. The transitions between forms are so seamless they appear instinctual, as if he is not executing technique, but allowing the Force to move through his musculature directly. His strength manifests in short, decisive bursts, balanced by near-meditative stillness in between. Even at rest, he emanates control; not dominance, not arrogance, but command through composure. The stillness before eruption. The quiet before the storm. His presence is gravitational. Even without armor or weapon, the weight of his awareness draws focus. He does not posture or assert; the body itself enforces attention. Those who have stood in his proximity describe a pressure in the air: subtle, like the hum of a charged field. The kind of quiet that precedes revelation or destruction. Through the Force, his body radiates balance, luminous and shadowed in equal measure. The serenity of the monk and the menace of the warrior coexist in him, neither diminishing the other. In council records, his bearing is cited as “a paradox in motion, the serenity of restraint within the architecture of war.”

Master: Revan

Visual Identity:

 • Black Armor – “The Revenant Shell” (Ref 2): a relic forged in the aftermath of crusades and betrayals. Each plate bears the memory of conquest, each scar the echo of choice. It is the armor of the fallen who refused to remain so.

 • White Armor – “The Purified Mantle” (Ref 3): worn only in moments of revelation, it stands as a symbol that transcendence does not erase darkness — it absorbs it.

 • Weapons: One crimson, one amethyst blade. The red sings of will and fury; the purple hums of serenity hard-earned. The second blade is rarely drawn — a silent vow that power need not always be seen to be felt.

The Father and the Forge

Revan did not choose Itharion as a student.

The Force chose him, and Revan merely obeyed.

When the boy first appeared, Revan felt it instantly. Among countless lives and fleeting presences, one small figure moved with a confidence and awareness far beyond his eight years. Itharion Skywalker.

The moment their eyes met, the galaxy itself seemed to pause. The currents of the Force pulsed around the boy like a living star, a nexus of light and shadow, carrying a presence so profound that recognition stirred deep within Revan; a familiarity older than memory, older than time itself. The Force had whispered; Revan had merely listened.

Itharion’s presence was quiet yet commanding. Every movement, every subtle gesture, carried an instinctive mastery of the world around him, as if he had always belonged to the rhythm of the Force itself. Revan understood then that this child was no coincidence. He was continuation; the living embodiment of the Shan lineage, of blood, of a hope that had slept for millennia.

For Revan, Itharion became more than a Padawan. He was the echo of a bloodline long tempered in light and shadow, the living continuation of everything Revan had once been, and everything he could never be again. For Itharion, Revan became not only a Master, but the father the Force had long owed him; a presence of guidance, protection, and strength he had never known.

The boy’s innocence belied a depth of intelligence and courage. When he held the pendant Revan had given his own son so long ago, Revan felt time itself contract. And at the second, humbler necklace; a symbol reborn from a distant, lost empire, he sensed the threads of destiny knitting them together, irrevocable and sacred.

Their connection transcended mentorship. It was covenant; sacred, unbreakable, forged in recognition, understanding, and shared destiny. Where others might have seen Revan’s duality as corruption, Itharion saw truth: balance is not serenity, but mastery over both chaos and calm.

Together, they would wander forgotten worlds; meditating in tombs where ancient whispers still lingered, studying archives sealed by centuries, battling remnants of empires long buried. Every scar on Itharion’s body became a lesson. Every word Revan spoke became scripture.

From the very first encounter, it was clear: this was not simply Master and student, but lineage restored: Father and Son, bound by the will of the Force, the blood of Revan’s line, and the immutable design of destiny itself.

Training/Teachings:

Under Revan’s tutelage, Itharion’s understanding of the Force deepened beyond simple technique or combat. Revan instilled in him the value of patience, discipline, and balance, teaching him to never let his emotions go unchecked, but also never to repress them. Every surge of anger, fear, or joy became a lesson; every impulse a chance to understand the currents of the Force within and around him. Revan emphasized that true mastery came not from power alone, but from harmony; between light and dark, thought and action, impulse and restraint.

But Revan was not alone in guiding him. Bastila’s presence, lingering as a Force ghost, became an enduring source of counsel and comfort. She whispered truths of resilience, willpower, and inner strength, helping Itharion confront not just threats in battle, but the trials of life itself. She taught him to face fear, loss, and deception with clarity and courage, reminding him that his choices and his heart defined him as much as any skill in the Force.

Together, Revan and Bastila formed a dual foundation for Itharion; a living father, tempered by experience and shadow, and a spectral mother, whose wisdom and compassion shaped his spirit. Where Revan instructed him in combat, strategy, and the deep philosophies of the Force, Bastila guided him through reflection, moral clarity, and the shaping of his resolve.

Through their combined guidance, Itharion learned that the Force was not simply a tool, but a covenant of responsibility, strength, and balance. Every lesson from Revan was tempered by Bastila’s insight; every meditation, every training exercise, every battle became a dialogue between the past, the present, and the legacy of their lineage.

In their care, Itharion did not merely grow as a Jedi. He grew as a son of the Force, a living bridge between light and shadow, and a continuation of the family and destiny he had inherited.

Combat Philosophy/Legacy:

Itharion Skywalker-Shan’s evolution as a Jedi is not measured merely in victories, titles, or the legends whispered about him across the Outer Rim. His growth has been defined by the weight he carries, an unspoken understanding that every action, every choice, and every battle ripples outward far beyond himself. From a young age, he grasped a truth many Jedi only come to realize late in life: the Force does not answer to power alone, but to intention, clarity, and responsibility. Where most Jedi specialize in a discipline — Form mastery, telekinetic precision, unyielding defense — Itharion stands apart as a practitioner who treats combat as an ever-shifting dialogue with the Force. His fighting style is less a collection of techniques and more a philosophy made motion. He blends forms not out of convenience, but because he perceives combat through a lens few others can: as a living, adaptive current. His transitions between forms can appear chaotic to the untrained eye, but to masters and warriors alike, his movements resemble a cosmic rhythm; unpredictable yet purposeful, like a storm guided by an invisible order. His integration of Force abilities into combat is equally distinctive. Itharion does not use the Force as an external tool bolted onto lightsaber combat; instead, he fights as if the Force is an extension of his very breath. His telekinetic precision, instinctive foresight, and intuitive sense of balance give him an almost impossible fluidity; sometimes serene, sometimes terrifying, always controlled. It is this fusion of physical discipline and spiritual attunement that earned him the whispered mantle: “the Jedi who fights like the Force itself.” Yet despite all this — despite the overwhelming potential, the lineage, the titles, and the dragon-like fury he can unleash when pushed — Itharion remains profoundly grounded. He is acutely aware that greatness without humility becomes tyranny, and that the galaxy has seen far too many “chosen ones” rise only to fall beneath the weight of their own legend. Thus, his combat philosophy is rooted not in dominance but purpose. He believes that a Jedi’s strength is not proven by striking down an enemy, but by preventing conflict before it begins, guiding others toward peace, and standing as a bulwark when diplomacy fails. In every duel, he fights not to defeat, but to protect. Not to destroy, but to preserve. And not to prove his strength, but to honor the lives that depend on it. This is the legacy Itharion Skywalker-Shan cultivates: A warrior of immense potential who chooses restraint over wrath. A tactician capable of unmatched ferocity who values mercy above triumph. A Jedi who embodies both the fire of change and the calm of harmony. A Dragon of the Force, not because he conquers, but because he understands the responsibility of being powerful at all.

Attires:

The Shadow Mantle

Style & Structure:

• Forged from a unique alloy of Pure Beskar fused with Cortosis Ore, the plating carries the indomitable resilience of Mandalorian iron and the saber-disrupting qualities of Cortosis. Unlike crude mixtures that weaken both metals, Itharion’s forging unlocked a rare harmony: the armor retains the unbreakable density of Beskar, the energy-dampening resilience of Cortosis, and a strange new property — a low, resonant hum that unsettles even Force-users who draw near.

 • The armor’s surface is obsidian-dark, layered over with Armorweave underpadding for freedom of motion and protection against blasters. Its carapace-like texture feels less manufactured than conjured, as though the alloy itself molded into form through the Force.

 • Sharp, angular lines echo Sith war-armor, yet the fit and balance evoke a Jedi Knight’s discipline. The cape drapes like shadow given flesh — fluid, suffocating, trailing as though smoke from a fire.

Nanite Integration — The Living Alloy

 • Designation: Lattice Phantasm Mk.III

 • Type: Programmable Beskar–Cortosis Nanite Substructure

 • Activation Command: Neural pulse or subvocal trigger (1-second deployment)

 • Signature Effect: “The armor wakes.”

Forged not only in metal but in intent, the Shadow Mantle houses an invisible lattice of micro-scale Beskar-Cortosis nanites, suspended beneath the armorweave underlayer. When summoned, they surge across Itharion’s frame like liquid night, knitting plates into existence with seamless precision.

The transformation emits a low, harmonic resonance — a tone that unsettles even Jedi attuned to calm. Within three heartbeats, the obsidian surface solidifies, the Veil sealing over his face as though the shadow itself had chosen to take form.

Once assembled, the armor retains the true density and saber-resistance of forged Beskar, the nanites merely serving as vessels of reconfiguration, not imitation. When deactivated, the plates dissolve back into the underlayer, leaving only a faint shimmer of residual energy along the skin.

To witness its manifestation is to watch darkness remember its shape. Among his troops, they call it the moment the Shadow breathes.

Symbolism:

 • The Mantle embodies Itharion’s hidden face: the war-bringer, the executioner of justice without restraint.

 • It was paired always with the amethyst blade — the weapon of conflict, of trial, of merciless clarity.

 • Its sheen drinks in light, turning him into something beyond mortal. Among Separatists it became myth, whispered as “the man who wears the shadow itself.”

Origins/Lore:

 • The Shadow Mantle was the first true armor Itharion forged after being knighted at sixteen. Rejecting dependency on the saber alone, he sought armor that could stand against Sith assassins, warlords, and slavers on its own terms.

 • The Beskar-Cortosis alloy was salvaged from rare fragments: Mandalorian relics seized from battlefields and shards of Sith-forged cortosis weaponry. Through weeks of meditation and smithing under the Force’s whisper, he fused them into a seamless whole, a miracle of metallurgy thought impossible.

 • Each plate carries history: chains broken, blood spilled, lives freed. It is not just armor, but a ledger.

 • By the Clone Wars, the Mantle’s shadow loomed across the Outer Rim. To slaves, it was salvation in black iron. To tyrants, it was a death mask.

The Veil of Silence

Description:

 • Fashioned from the same Pure Beskar–Cortosis alloy, the Veil of Silence is a crown of shadow sharpened into form. Its faceplate narrows into a dagger-like visor, blotting out every trace of humanity. The helm’s ridges curl like a predator’s horns, lending it the aura of a warlord or myth-born executioner.

 • Subtle veins of violet energy thread through the metal, shimmering faintly under the Force. These were not etched — they manifested naturally in the alloy during its forging, the visible resonance of Itharion’s inner duality.

 • Inside, an Armorweave lining grants cushioning and insulation, balancing protection with comfort in long campaigns.

Nanite Integration — The Veil’s Dissolution

 • Designation: Specter-Class Neural Nanite Array

 • Type: Cortosis-Infused Beskar Nanite Filament Network

 • Activation Command: Neural or tactile pulse (temporal phase duration: 0.7 seconds)

 • Signature Effect: “The silence unbinds.”

The Veil of Silence is more than armor — it is presence incarnate, bound by a living system of Specter-class nanites woven into the helm’s inner framework. When dismissed, the metal doesn’t retract — it dissolves, unraveling into streams of shimmering particulate shadow that fold into the mantle’s neckline and vanish without sound.

Upon activation, those same nanites reassemble the helm in an eruption of silent geometry, the plates sliding into position as though drawn by unseen gravity. The violet veins that thread through the alloy flare to life, pulsing once — a heartbeat of restrained power — before fading into their usual dim shimmer.

The transition is instantaneous to the eye yet weighted in the Force; those attuned can feel the space tighten around him, as if the galaxy itself holds its breath.

When the Veil reforms, the man disappears — and in his place stands the executioner of balance, faceless and inevitable.

Among his legion, this moment is whispered only as:

“When silence takes shape.”

Origin & Lore:

 • Forged in secret after his ascension, the Veil was born during Itharion’s long campaigns in the galaxy’s darkest reaches. Sith cults, warlords, and slavers fell under its silent gaze, until the helm itself became feared as much as the warrior beneath it.

 • The violet veins were read as prophecy — sparks of light burning through shadow. Jedi who glimpsed it whispered that it did not look forged by hand, but shaped by the Force itself to house balance’s darker half.

Symbolism:

 • The Veil of Silence is the mask of Itharion’s other self: the unflinching general, the merciless hand of necessity. It is feared, not hated — for it represents the violence balance sometimes demands.

 • When worn, he becomes not a Jedi, but a storm clothed in steel, faceless and inexorable. A reminder that light alone cannot guard the galaxy, for shadow too has its place.

The Dawn Regalia

Style & Structure:

 • A gleaming armor of Pure Beskar and Cortosis Ore alloy, burnished into radiant white-gold and inlaid with luminous engravings that refract light like dawn spilling through stained glass. The alloy holds the dual strength of Beskar’s indestructibility and Cortosis’ saber-disrupting resonance, yet here it has been refined to appear almost divine rather than martial.

 • Flowing, curved lines distinguish it from the angularity of the Mantle, recalling Jedi ceremonial armor — but elevated beyond mere tradition, sanctified in form.

 • Beneath its radiant plates lies a supple layer of Armorweave, granting flexibility, insulation, and added resistance to blaster fire, ensuring that beneath the spectacle of its light, it remains battle-ready.

 • A white-scarlet cape trimmed with gold cascades from the shoulders. Though ceremonial in appearance, it enhances the aura of a champion cloaked in sunrise.

Nanite Integration — The Luminous Ascension

 • Designation: Solari-Class Nanite Lattice

 • Type: Gold-infused Beskar–Cortosis Nanostructure Network

 • Activation Command: Neural pulse or vocal trigger (“Arise, Dawn”)

 • Signature Effect: “The light gathers.”

The Dawn Regalia is not merely armor — it is rebirth crystallized. Its plates are formed through a lattice of Solari-class nanites, each a golden filament woven through the alloy’s molecular seams. These nanites lie dormant until summoned, at which point they shimmer into motion, coalescing like liquid sunrise across his form.

When activated, light pours outward — not searing, but warm and transcendent — as radiant fractals of white-gold armor assemble from the chest outward. The transition unfolds in measured grace, resembling more a celestial manifestation than mechanical deployment. To witnesses, it is as though the Force itself breathes him into light.

When dismissed, the Regalia doesn’t vanish — it dissolves into motes of gold, lingering for several seconds in the air before fading, like dawn’s afterglow. These residual particles are not aesthetic illusion: they are resonant dust, micro-reactive fragments attuned to Itharion’s presence, capable of reforming instantly at will.

Where the Shadow Mantle devours illumination, the Dawn Regalia gathers it. One calls fear from silence. The other calls faith from light.

Among the 595th, this manifestation is revered in quiet awe as:

“When the Dawn takes form.”

Symbolism:

 • The Regalia is the luminous mask he offers the galaxy: the dawn-bringer, the Jedi whose presence brings hope as surely as the rising sun.

 • It is the armor worn with the golden saber, the blade of illumination — a beacon of leadership and guardianship.

 • Where the Mantle devours light, the Regalia magnifies it, making Itharion appear larger than life: a savior cloaked not in shadow but in radiance.

Origins/Lore:

 • Forged shortly after the Shadow Mantle, the Dawn Regalia arose from Itharion’s realization that perception shapes destiny as much as strength. At sixteen, he would not allow the galaxy to see only the specter of his shadow.

 • The materials were not seized as spoils, but freely given: fragments of rare Beskar heirlooms offered by liberated Mandalorian clans, shards of Cortosis gifted by freed miners, and gold filaments donated by grateful families across the Outer Rim. Melted together, they became a singular alloy unlike any other — armor born not of conquest, but of gratitude.

 • Its engravings were etched with intent: vows of protection, prayers for hope, and symbols of renewal. Each plate carries not just strength but faith, hammered into the alloy as surely as its indestructibility.

 • By the time the Republic learned his name, Outer Rim worlds already whispered legends of a knight who gleamed like sunrise — a liberator clothed in the gifts of those he saved.

The Crown of Radiance

Description:

 • The Crown of Radiance shines with the same Pure Beskar–Cortosis alloy, polished into gleaming white and inlaid with golden filigree. Its arcs rise into radiant crests, forming a visage that evokes not a general, but a warrior-saint.

 • Sunburst insignias crown the temples, gilded in intricate detail, catching the light with every movement. Unlike the Veil of Silence, which erases the man beneath, this helm magnifies him — reflecting his humanity, exalted into something mythic.

 • An Armorweave inner lining ensures not only durability and comfort but also symbolic unity: a balance between outward radiance and inner resilience.

Nanite Function — The Dawning of the Crown

 • Designation: Solaris Ascendant Protocol

 • Type: Gold-threaded Beskar–Cortosis Nanite Convergence System

 • Activation Command: Neural pulse or phrase (“Let there be dawn”)

 • Signature Effect: “Light takes shape.”

The Crown of Radiance does not materialize with violence or command, it arrives.

When summoned, golden motes gather from the air around Itharion, drawn like dust toward a star. Each filament of nanite light forms along invisible currents, spiraling upward from his shoulders and rising over his face in a soft crescendo of radiance.

The transformation is not instant — it unfolds. The visor manifests last, refracting the light into a burning white-gold brilliance that flares before settling into a tranquil glow. To onlookers, it appears less an act of technology than a celestial coronation: the light recognizing its bearer.

When dismissed, the helm does not break apart or fade — it ascends, dissolving upward in streams of sunlight that linger for several breaths before vanishing completely. It leaves behind a faint warmth, as though the dawn itself had brushed against the air.

Where the Veil of Silence devours itself into shadow, the Crown of Radiance gathers itself from light — two reflections of the same will, one born of necessity, the other of hope.

Among the 595th, this moment is spoken of in reverence:

“When the light remembers its King.”

Origin & Lore:

 • Forged alongside the Veil of Silence, the Crown of Radiance embodied the other half of Itharion’s destiny. Where one helm cloaked him in dread, the other anointed him in hope.

 • He wore it at liberations, in parades of the freed, at councils where hope was fragile. To the people, it was a crown of salvation. To the Jedi, reassurance. To Itharion, it was a fragile promise — that perhaps light alone could save him from being consumed.

 • Each golden line whispers of worlds freed and lives saved, a living monument to the belief that hope must shine as fiercely as shadow strikes.

Symbolism:

 • The Crown of Radiance embodies the ideal he wished to embody: the savior, the selfless guardian, the Jedi the galaxy longed to believe in.

 • Where the Veil of Silence instills fear, the Crown inspires devotion. It is the mask of light — worn for others, but also for himself, as proof that the dawn he brought to others might one day rise within him.

Eternal Weave Alloy — The Alloy of the Shadow Mantle, The Dawn Regalia, The Veil of Silence & The Crown of Raidance

“Weight is not a property of matter — it is a failure of harmony.”

— Inscription, The Gilded Crucible

Classification:

Hybrid metallurgical composite of Beskar, Cortosis, and Luminite Filament — stabilized through quantum-phase lattice binding and Force-channel resonance.

Description:

The Eternal Weave Alloy is not a true alloy but a phase-interlaced composite, a lattice of alternating Beskar and Cortosis filaments interwoven at the subatomic level, suspended within a micro-thread matrix of Luminite crystal fiber. The result is a substance that retains Beskar’s near-impervious resilience and Cortosis’s energy-disruptive field, yet weighs a fraction of either.

Through Luminite’s semi-organic crystalline structure, the metal conducts bio-energetic resonance, allowing it to attune itself to a living wearer’s Force signature. When bound through meditation and ritual — as Itharion has done — the alloy harmonizes with his aura, nullifying inertial mass and translating physical movement into radiant efficiency.

To any other being, the armor would be impossibly heavy.

To him, it moves as though alive.

Properties:

 • Kinetic Phase Dissipation: Physical impacts ripple through the lattice, dispersing force across the entire frame.

 • Energy Nullification Field: Cortosis filaments channel and neutralize energy discharges.

 • Mass Resonance Modulation: Luminite micro-strands convert potential weight into radiant motion when attuned through the Force.

 • Force-Bound Memory: When worn by its rightful owner, the alloy “remembers” their movement and aura patterns, moving almost before they do.

Symbolism:

Where Beskar represents endurance and Cortosis negation, Luminite embodies transcendence — the moment matter bends to spirit.

The alloy stands as Itharion’s redefinition of strength: not the defiance of gravity, but the command of it.

The Prince of Zakuul Attire

Overall Silhouette

The attire follows the distinct Zakuulan Prince cut seen on Arcann and Thexan:

 • Fitted, armored torso with smooth, matte plates — not bulky, not Sith-spiked.

 • Asymmetrical tabard-skirt that falls diagonally from the waist, inscribed with Zakuulan glyphs.

 • Segmented arm bracers and greaves integrated seamlessly into the bodysuit.

 • A high, folded collar framing the neck — regal, restrained, unmistakably Zakuulan.

The silhouette communicates control, lineage, and restraint — power that does not need to posture.

Origin & Lore

The Prince of Zakuul Attire was not forged in preparation for Itharion’s arrival.

It was forged in certainty.

Long before Itharion ever set foot beyond the Outer Rim—before his name echoed through the Force as Bendu, before the Jedi whispered of Balance made flesh—the Eternal Family knew he would one day stand at the crossroads of the galaxy. Not as a conqueror. Not as an emperor. But as something rarer.

One who chooses.

After Valkorion’s redemption and the Reforging of the Eternal Family, Zakuul entered what historians would later call The Silent Era—a time of watchfulness rather than expansion. During this era, Valkorion ordered the creation of a single ceremonial regalia, modeled after the ancient Prince-Commanders of Zakuul, the same lineage once worn by Arcann and Thexan.

But this armor was different.

It bore no insignia of rule. No mark of succession. No symbol of command over fleets or thrones.

Instead, it was crafted as a recognition.

Purpose of the Attire

The Prince of Zakuul Attire was designed to answer one question:

If the Child of Balance ever comes home… how do we greet him without chaining him?

Thus, the attire serves three sacred functions:

 1. Acknowledgment, not claim
It does not crown Itharion as Emperor, nor bind him to Zakuul’s throne. It simply says: You belong here, if you choose to.

 2. Identity, not destiny
Where the Shadow Mantle is necessity and the Dawn Regalia is myth, this attire is inheritance without obligation—a reminder that before prophecy, before war, before Balance, he is family.

 3. Sanctuary, not armor
Though protective, it is not battle gear. It is meant to be worn in halls, gardens, and quiet moments—when the galaxy is allowed to wait.

Forging & Symbolism

Design Lineage

 • Based directly on Arcann and Thexan’s Zakuulan prince vestments

 • Streamlined, ceremonial, elegant — neither Sith nor Jedi

 • A bridge between what Zakuul was and what it chose to become

Materials

 • Refined Zakuulan alloy: resilient, but light

 • Synthweave layers tuned to Force resonance, allowing calm rather than amplification

 • Gold inlays are intentionally muted — authority softened by humility

Glyphs

The amber-gold glyphs etched into the tabard are not laws, commands, or victories.

They are names.

Not titles. Not honors. Names of worlds saved quietly. Lives freed without witness. Sins borne without absolution.

They are written in old Zakuulan script only Senya and Valkorion still fully remember.

Who Commissioned It

 • Senya Tirall oversaw the design
She insisted the armor must feel like home, not ceremony.

 • Thexan ensured it carried no political authority
“If he stands with us, it must be because he wants to—not because we dressed him for it.”

 • Arcann personally tested its balance and fit
Refusing to let Itharion wear anything he himself would not kneel before.

 • Vaylin added the final flourish:
a barely perceptible warmth woven into the lining—
“So he never forgets he’s wanted.”

 • Valkorion did not touch the forge.
He only watched. Because some things a father does not shape.

When It Is Given

The Eternal Family does not call Itharion during the chaos of war.

They wait.

They wait through:

 • The visions

 • Shmi’s death

 • Geonosis

 • The birth of the Clone Wars

 • Even the wedding

Only when Itharion finally lies beside Padmé—finally still, finally anchored, finally not alone—does Zakuul answer.

Not with commands. Not with prophecy.

With home.

And when Itharion arrives on Zakuul, the attire is waiting—not presented in ceremony, not laid upon him, but offered.

Senya speaks first.

“You owe us nothing. But if you wish to walk these halls as yourself… then do not walk them as a stranger.”

The attire is not placed on him.

It is held out.

Color Palette

Where Arcann and Thexan wore white-gold or imperial tones, Itharion’s variant subtly diverges:

 • Primary: Deep obsidian-black (Zakuulan alloy-weave, satin-matte finish)

 • Secondary: Dark crimson panels across the chest and thighs (echoing lineage, not rage)

 • Accents: Muted auric-gold filigree — aged, not gleaming

 • Glyphwork: Soft amber-gold Zakuulan script etched into the tabard and belt plates

Chest & Torso

 • The chestpiece mirrors the Zakuulan “V” motif seen on Arcann:

   • Angular red inlays forming a downward-pointing chevron

   • Central Eternal Sigil clasp at the sternum — reworked into a coiled dragon in balance

 • Armor plating is smooth, organic, almost grown rather than forged

 • No exposed mechanics, no spikes — Zakuul values elegance over intimidation

The chestplate is ceremonial but fully reinforced, capable of deflecting blaster fire and glancing saber strikes.

Tabard & Glyphwork

 • A single-sided tabard-skirt, split diagonally, falling mid-thigh

 • Inscribed with ancient Zakuulan runes, identical in style to Arcann/Thexan’s:

   • The script is not decorative — it is philosophical text

   • Translates roughly to: “Power serves life. Dominion serves nothing.”

 • The fabric is force-reactive synthweave, resistant to tearing and heat

This is not a Jedi robe. It is Zakuulan identity made visible.

Arms, Gloves & Greaves

 • Forearm bracers: Smooth black plates with subtle gold inlays, no weapons mounted

 • Gloves: Crimson, reinforced at knuckles — echoing Arcann’s combat gloves

 • Greaves: Tall, angular shin guards with crimson vertical insets

 • Integrated boots, magnetized for starship decks

Everything is symmetrical and restrained — Zakuulan design hates chaos.

Belt & Waist Assembly

 • Wide Zakuulan belt with diamond-shaped gold inlays, matching the Zakuulan Royal armor of Arcann & Thexan

 • Houses:

   • A concealed lightsabers hooks

   • Emergency shield emitter

   • No utility pouches — Zakuulan nobles do not display preparedness, they assume it

Hood / Helm (Optional)

When worn without helm:

 • High collar frames the face

 • Hair uncovered — reinforcing humanity over myth

Optional ceremonial helm (rarely worn):

 • Sleek, Arcann-inspired faceplate

 • No mask of domination — open visor, angular brow

 • Gold tracery along the temples, echoing the Crown of Radiance without replicating it

Itharion almost never wears it — because he does not wish to disappear behind a symbol.

Symbolic Meaning

This attire says:

 • To Zakuul: I am of the Eternal Family, but I do not rule you.

 • To Valkorion: Your legacy survives — corrected.

 • To Senya: I remember home.

 • To the galaxy: This is what power looks like when it does not need conquest.

It is not armor for war. It is armor for belonging.

The Midnight Vestments

Overall Silhouette

Symbolism & Duality:

 • Black, not as darkness—but as containment

 • Leather, not as aggression—but as structure

 • Wool, not as tradition—but as continuity

 • Unlike the radiant Dawn Regalia or the ominous Shadow Mantle, the Vestments are a middle ground — not armor, not regalia, but the man himself.

 • Their black palette reflects the burdens he carries: grief, sacrifice, the shadows trailing every choice.

 • Their simplicity honors the Jedi ideal: humility, clarity, purpose unadorned.

 • To soldiers and allies, these robes became iconic in their own right: the “dark-clad knight,” a figure of hope in the chaos of battle.

Origin/Lore:

 • Forged not in forges, but through necessity, Itharion assembled the Midnight Vestments after his knighting at sixteen. He needed something practical — robes that could endure the field, not weigh him down with symbolism.

 • He chose black Armorweave for its dual purpose: anonymity in shadow, protection in combat. It was a deliberate rejection of spectacle, a statement that not every hero must gleam like sunrise.

 • These were the robes he wore most during the early Clone Wars — while liberating slaves, striking at warlords, hunting Sith acolytes in the Outer Rim. They became his second skin, remembered less for their form than for the presence they carried into battle.

“That is what we were meant to become.”

“If he stands here, we won’t fall.”

unease—not fear, but misalignment

Vestments of the Mortis Watch

Description:

Woven from Celestium weave, a fabric said to exist only where the material world brushes against the ethereal — threads infused with both Armorweave durability and a subtle resonance with the Living Force. Storm-grey in hue, its deep folds and layered shoulders echo the tension of Mortis: shadow and light entwined in constant struggle.

The golden trim is not mere embroidery but filaments of auric crystal-thread, harvested from the crystal fields of Mortis. These luminous veins do more than gleam; they act as living channels, amplifying meditative focus, harmonizing body and spirit in battle or stillness alike.

Symbolism:

 • The split mantle mirrors the Son, Daughter, and Father — three powers, separate yet bound in one eternal whole.

 • To wear these robes is to declare oneself not simply a Jedi Knight, but a Watcher of Balance: a guardian of meaning rather than conquest.

 • Their very material presence blurs the line between armor and sacrament.

Gauntlets of Silent Authority

Description:

Forged from cortosis-inlaid beskar leather, the gauntlets are seamless, austere, and incorruptible. They are supple to the hand yet immovable to the strike, deflecting both blaster fire and saber blows with quiet authority.

Set into each knuckle are circles of mortai-stone, smooth crystalline discs found only in Mortis’ caverns. They are not weapons but conduits — when the wearer makes ritual gestures, the stones resonate faintly with the Force, projecting intent into presence.

Symbolism:

 • The unbroken circle embodies the continuity of the Force: infinite, eternal, indivisible.

 • The gauntlets remind the wearer that strength is not domination, but direction — hands that shape harmony, that command through guidance before violence.

 • Their silence is their greatest authority.

Boots of the Auric Path

Description:

Crafted from ivory-hued beskar-ceramite alloy overlaid with Aurora-gold plating, the boots shine with celestial radiance. Their angular motifs recall Mortis’ towers, lines carved like architecture of eternity itself.

The soles are fitted with whisperweave layering, allowing each step to land silent, as if the wearer treads not on durasteel or soil, but across the timeless horizon of Mortis. Each stride resonates faintly in the Force, as though every step is a prayer in motion.

Symbolism:

 • Ivory for purity of purpose, gold for wisdom carved from trial.

 • To walk in these boots is to embody the promise of balance restored: dawn after night, renewal after ruin.

 • They declare allegiance not to conquest or empire, but to the eternal rhythm of death and rebirth.

Presence of the Set:

Together, the Vestments of the Mortis Watch are less attire than relic. To allies, they are a vision of the Jedi as myth made flesh; to foes, a reminder that the galaxy’s balance is not guarded by soldiers alone, but by watchers of forces older than war.

The Bonded Vestments

Designation

The Brother’s Gift — Jedi Garments crafted for Itharion by Anakin Skywalker.

Appearance & Structure

Vest & Outer Robes:

 • The inner tunic is cut from treated nerf-hide reinforced with Armorweave threading, supple enough to move in but resilient against blaster fire and shrapnel.

 • The outer robe is sewn from bantha-wool fiber blended with dura-cloth, grounding it in Jedi tradition yet enhanced with Anakin’s subtle practicality. Its drape is deliberate — imposing when hooded, familiar when cast back.

 • The layering reflects both temple austerity and battlefield readiness: a bridge between their two lives.

Glove:

 • A single right-hand gauntlet, crafted from dark leather lined with micro-armorweave padding and strengthened at stress points with durasteel fasteners.

 • Its asymmetry is intentional: one hand armored for battle, the other left open for touch, care, and guidance.

 • The design mirrors Anakin’s own — a quiet statement of kinship, but built with Itharion’s measurements in mind.

Boots:

 • High, black military-grade leather boots, their soles reinforced with duraplast layers for traction and shock-absorption inserts that Anakin custom-fitted after endless campaigns.

 • Strapped and angular, they are soldier’s boots through and through: no ornament, only reliability.

Origin & Lore

The Bonded Vestments were not Temple issue, nor relics of legend, but a gift of brotherhood. After the Mortis trials, Anakin — half-warrior, half-engineer — pieced them together in his quarters, using scraps of battlefield materials and rare fabrics he bartered or scavenged.

At first, Itharion refused, fearing they mirrored his brother too closely. But Anakin reassured him with the same steadiness he had shown on Tatooine: “You’re not copying me. You’re carrying me with you — and I’ll always carry you.”

Every stitch carries Anakin’s hand, every fold his intent. The armor-weave was reinforced not because he doubted Itharion’s skill, but because he wanted his little brother to come home safe. The design mirrors his own robes because, to Anakin, the bond mattered more than individuality: it was family, made visible.

Symbolism

 • Brotherhood: The mirroring of Anakin’s design marks the unbreakable kinship between them — one forged not by blood, but by survival, trust, and loyalty.

 • Balance Through Connection: While Mortis revealed the cosmic weight of balance, these robes taught Itharion a simpler truth: balance is also found in companionship and in the grounding presence of those one calls brother.

 • Practical Genius: Every seam and fastening speaks of Anakin’s care. The robes were not made to inspire awe or fear, but to fit Itharion perfectly — physically, emotionally, and symbolically.

 • Humanity: Unlike the Dawn Regalia or Shadow Mantle, this attire does not demand that Itharion be myth or warrior. It asks only that he be a brother.

The Bonded Vestments — “The Brother’s Gift”

Variant II: The White Vestments

Designation:

The Brother’s Gift (White Variant) — Jedi Garments crafted for Itharion by Anakin Skywalker, alongside the original dark set. A twin creation — light and dark, reflection and resolve — both born from the same forge of brotherhood.

Appearance & Structure

Vest & Outer Robes

 • Base Fabric: A pale ivory armorweave composite, its hue born from bleached nerf-hide threads interwoven with filament-silver fiber. It catches the light rather than reflecting it, giving the entire set a quiet glow — soft, not ostentatious.

 • Outer Robe: Cut in the same pattern as the original, but the bantha-wool is replaced with a high-thread matte silk dura-cloth, whisper-light yet resilient. The robe moves like breath — its folds alive in motion, fluid where the dark version was weighty.

 • Lining: Subtle tonal differences mark each layer — milk-white deepening into faint pearl-gray, echoing the duality of serenity and burden. From a distance, it reads as pure white; up close, it reveals nuance.

 • Silhouette: The cut remains martial, but there’s restraint in the edges. The drape no longer imposes — it envelops. It’s what a warrior wears once he’s learned peace, not before battle.

Glove

 • Material: White varactyl-leather, stained with micro-inscribed Force sigils beneath the surface, almost invisible unless seen under polarized light.

 • Structure: Reinforced with jet black-thread durasteel joints, polished until they appear like faint veins of darkness tracing across the knuckles.

 • Symbolism: The single glove remains — one hand armored, one hand open. But in white, it speaks of protection, not aggression; clarity, not concealment.
The left hand to guide. The right hand to guard.

Boots

 • Design: Still combat-grade, but cast in pale sand-toned polished leather, with undersoles tinted a muted silver-gray.

 • Functionality: Retains shock-absorption and tactical traction, but the finish makes them appear more ceremonial — worn by one who leads through presence, not dominance.

 • Detail: Around each ankle runs a discreet band of dull chrome — a nod to Anakin’s engineering signature, a thread of the brother who built them.

Origin & Lore

The white and black Bonded Vestments were conceived together — not as opposites, but as counterparts. Anakin built them in the quiet months after Mortis, when both brothers carried more questions than answers. The black version embodied resolve — the will to endure. The white version embodied grace — the will to forgive.

Anakin presented them not as two outfits, but as two choices, two reflections of the same truth. He told Itharion: “You’ll need both, someday. Not every battle is fought in shadow.” Itharion rarely wore the white set at first. He said it felt too calm, too bright for a man still haunted by the storm. But when peace became purpose, and he learned to wield power without fear, he finally understood.

The white vestments were not about purity. They were about integration — proof that one could walk through fire and still choose light.

Engineering Specification: The Aegis-Polish Coating

Technical Origin:

While sewing and manufacturing the white variant, Anakin watched the robes get stained by red dust. To Anakin, a stain on his little brother’s gift was an insult to the bond. He spent three days in the Twilight’s hold developing a Molecular Hydro-Phobic & Particulate-Repulsion Coating.

The "Anakin" Touch:

 • The Repulsor-Field Weave: Anakin didn't just spray the fabric; he micro-tuned the armorweave threads to emit a low-frequency static field. This field creates a "cushion" of air 0.2 millimeters above the surface, causing mud, blood, and grime to literally slide off before they can touch the fiber.

 • Thermal-Scorching Resistance: He treated the silver filaments with a refractive chemical bath used for starship heat shields. Now, glancing blaster bolts don’t just leave a black scorch mark—the energy is dissipated across the weave, keeping the ivory fabric blindingly white even in the heart of a firefight.

Symbolism

 • Brotherhood Eternal: Twin creations from the same hands — one to carry through the night, one to greet the dawn.

 • Light Tempered by Shadow: The faint veins of black thread in the glove remind that light is not born from denial, but from acceptance.

 • Peace Through Strength: The martial cut remains; peace does not erase the warrior, it refines him.

 • Balance Made Visible: The white variant is not for ceremony, nor for battle — it’s for becoming: the state between restraint and freedom.

 • Legacy of Trust: Every stitch still bears Anakin’s care. Where the black set said, “Come home safe,” this one says, “You already are.”

Darth Caelum’s Armor

Appearance:

Forged from an obsidian-black, reality-warping meta-alloy whose surface seems to drink in light, the armor’s plates appear ridged and layered like the carapace of some primordial celestial leviathan. Each segment gleams with a void-sheen so deep it seems almost liquid, broken only by faint inscriptions burned into the surface — vows, burdens, and truths carved by Itharion’s own hand.

Across the chest burns a crimson resonance sigil, soft and alive with Force energy. It is neither Sith nor Jedi but something far more personal — a mark bound to Darth Caelum, the shadow-self Itharion no longer rejects. Cloaked beneath a mantle of midnight Armorweave, Caelum becomes less man and more omen, a silhouette carved from dread and inevitability.

The helm is faceless — an unyielding visage of perfect silence. Its visor glows with muted blood-red light, a gaze that seems to strip away illusion and lay bare the darkness others refuse to see.

Nanite Integration — Umbral Nanite Colony

Designation: U-0 Strain — The Umbral Colony

The nanites within Caelum’s armor are not passive assistants, they are predatory machines, forged to operate in the shadows of both physics and the Force. They behave less like technological particles and more like an organism with purpose.

Nature & Architecture

The U-0 strain is structured as a self-organizing swarm lattice, a hive-colony bound to Caelum’s aura.

They respond to:

 • instinct

 • emotional temperature

 • threat psychology

 • murderous intent directed at Itharion

Not by reading thoughts, but by detecting shifts in the Force echo around him.

Primary Functions

1. Umbral Armor Morphology

The nanites can:

 • seal breaches instantly

 • reinforce plates with directional density

 • change surface rigidity

 • sharpen, harden, or deform armor edges during combat

When Itharion’s darker instincts rise, even without malice, the Colony sharpens with him.

2. Fear Vector Amplification

Nanites modulate:

 • light absorption

 • thermal signatures

 • resonance from the crimson sigil

This induces subtle visual distortions around Caelum, making him appear:

 • taller

 • heavier

 • more inhuman

 • more myth than man

The nanites make the illusion real enough to terrify.

3. Predator Silence Protocol

The Colony suppresses:

 • footstep vibration

 • armor rattle

 • environmental feedback

Caelum becomes a walking void, heard only when he wants to be.

4. Umbral Reconstitution

Damage does not repair normally. The nanites consume shattered fragments, dissolve them, and reforge new sections atom-by-atom using the ambient metallurgical matrix.

The armor appears to heal like a living creature.

5. Echoing Presence Mask

The Colony projects faint “Force shadows” behind Caelum, afterimages caused by photonic disruption.

This gives the illusion that multiple figures move with him, feeding the legend of a Dark Avatar.

Personality

Unlike the Aegis nanites, the Umbral Colony is:

 • aggressive

 • instinctual

 • protective in a predatory way

 • tied to Itharion’s acceptance of Caelum

They are born from unity, not corruption, and thus remain stable.

Functionality:

 • Armor Composition: Forged from a beyond-beskar, beyond-cortosis composite that surpasses all known alloys, crafted through a synthesis method only Itharion has ever achieved. The material contains the resilience of ancient metals and the energy-disruptive qualities of forbidden forges, yet without either compromising the other. This is not the Eternal Weave Alloy. It is something far more advanced, perfectly attuned to Caelum’s nature and integrated with adaptive nanite microstructures that respond to his will, intent, and aura. To others, it would be impossibly heavy. To him, it moves as though it breathes.

 • Resonance Core (Crimson Sigil): The sigil does not weaponize the darkness — it acknowledges it. It channels Caelum’s presence, amplifying his aura into something overwhelming: To allies — a symbol of his complete self. To enemies — a presence that crushes courage before battle begins.

 • Fear Projection: The armor’s greatest weapon is psychological. When worn, Itharion is no longer merely himself — he becomes the myth others fear. Warriors who would stand firm against a Jedi falter when they believe a Sith-like nightmare walks toward them. Whole battalions have broken from formation at the sight of Caelum.

Origin/Lore:

Darth Caelum is not an entity separate from Itharion, nor a spirit or possession. He is the acknowledged shadow, the part Itharion once denied — the same way Vader was the mirror Anakin refused to face.

On Mortis, Itharion confronted this reflection and learned a truth few ever do: the Dark Side does not corrupt because it exists — it corrupts because it is repressed.

Itharion embraced Caelum not to surrender to the darkness, but to prevent it from ever ruling him. This acceptance created an immunity stronger than purity — a balance born of truth.

The armor was forged afterward, not as daily equipment but as a mantle of deliberate terror. It is worn only when Itharion must step into shadow to accomplish what the Jedi cannot: infiltrating Sith strongholds, terrifying warlords into surrender, or forcing peace through psychological superiority rather than slaughter.

It is not Itharion’s true face. It is his last resort, his reminder, and his acceptance made manifest.

Symbolism:

• The Crimson Sigil: A vow to the self. The fire at Itharion’s core, formed from both shadow and light.

 • Faceless Helm: No identity — because Caelum is not a separate being. He is the truth within Itharion that every sentient possesses.

 • The Cloak of Night: A mantle that swallows light and darkness alike, representing unity rather than duality. Where the Dawn Regalia shines and the Shadow Mantle absorbs, this cloak does both effortlessly.

Caelum’s Armor is a paradox sculpted into form — the nightmare Itharion could have become, and the monument to the fact that he never did.

Field Usage Protocol

Caelum’s Armor is not a battle uniform but a psychological weapon — a mantle summoned in rare and deliberate circumstances. Its purpose is not simply defense, but domination of perception and morale.

Deployment Scenarios:

 • Infiltration of Sith Strongholds: When facing enclaves or cults loyal to the Dark Side, the armor allows Itharion to walk among them as if born one of their own — the mere presence of Caelum commanding obedience without question.

 • Fear as Warfare: Against armies, warlords, or pirate clans that thrive on intimidation, the manifestation of Caelum breaks their own tactics against them. The appearance of a Sith-like figure strikes terror deeper than a thousand Jedi proclamations ever could.

 • Judgment of Shadows: In trials of last resort, when diplomacy has failed and mercy would be mistaken for weakness, the armor allows Itharion to embody unrelenting darkness — ensuring that resistance collapses before it begins.

Limitations:

 • Rarely Worn: Every use risks testing the boundary between acknowledgement and indulgence.

 • Instrument, Not Identity: Itharion dons it when needed, then sheds it before the moment it ceases to be a tool and becomes a comfort.

Doctrine:

“When I wear this, it is not because I have fallen. It is because I refuse to pretend I have no shadow.”

The Astral Aegis

Designation

Astral Aegis — the armor that embodies Itharion Skywalker-Shan’s ascension beyond the binaries of Jedi and Sith, Light and Dark, fear and hope. Where Caelum represents the shadow accepted, the Astral Aegis is the radiance transcended — the expression not of balance hard-won, but balance lived.

Construction

• Unified Force-Reactive Alloy: The Aegis is forged from a rare, tri-harmonic alloy Itharion created through a process no forge has replicated since the Je’daii era. Though unnamed in any archive, the alloy blends: a meteor-born metal resonant with the Living Force, a crystalline structure capable of storing harmonic frequency, and a hyper-durable base material known for surviving direct lightsaber contact, fused together through Itharion’s own Force conduction, not by traditional heat. This alloy does not merely resist strikes — it responds to them. When touched by darkness, its surface brightens. When struck by hatred, it grows colder, steadier. When surrounded by despair, it glows like the first dawn pushing through stormclouds. Its natural color is argent-white with a faint iridescent shimmer — not reflective, but luminous, as if starlight were trapped beneath the surface.

 • Helm of the Watcher: Shaped with subtle, wing-like contours, the helm evokes guardianship rather than intimidation. Its visors shine with cerulean luminescence, serene yet resolute — a gaze that does not burn like Caelum’s crimson, but endures like a star that refuses to die. The helm heightens Itharion’s perception, not by amplifying senses, but by filtering out emotional distortion — allowing him to see truth even when shadow swirls thick around it.

 • Astral Core Emblem: At the chest lies the counterpart to Caelum’s crimson sigil: a radiant emblem that pulses in harmony with Itharion’s presence in the Force. Soft, constant, unwavering — it is not a weapon, but a statement: Light does not exist to triumph over shadow. It exists because it cannot be extinguished. The emblem strengthens allies simply by proximity, steadies their nerves, and dissolves fear as gently as morning dissolves night.

 • Mantle of Dawn: Cascading from the pauldrons flows a cloak and tabard woven from pale Armorweave embroidered with Je’daii resonance keys. Unlike Caelum’s cloak of night, the Dawn Mantle does not swallow light or cast it — it refracts it into soft radiance. The patterns are not words but harmonic sequences, each one amplifying Itharion’s Force signature until his presence feels like a constellation taking human form.

Nanite Integration — Luminaris Nanite Network

Designation: L-∞ Stratum — The Luminaris Weave

The nanotech woven through the Astral Aegis is not a colony but a symphonic network, tuned to harmony, clarity, and balance. These nanites do not respond to fear or aggression… they respond to purpose.

Nature & Architecture

The L-∞ nanites exist as a lattice of photonic-capacitor nodes, each node resonating through Luminite-based crystalline logic.

They form:

 • a sensory grid

 • a stabilization field

 • a harmonic amplifier

 • a bio-sympathetic fabric

Where Caelum’s nanites are predatory, the Aegis nanites are ascendant.

Primary Functions

1. Astral Phase Modulation

Nanites reduce inertia by altering micro-phase alignment. As a result:

 • movements become weightless

 • leaps become effortless

 • impacts distribute evenly

The armor behaves like starlight structured into form.

2. Radiant Repair Protocol

Damage repair is elegant, almost ceremonial.

Nanites draw micro-matter from the alloy to:

 • weave crystalline threads

 • fuse fractures with photonic heat

 • reshape plates with precise symmetry

Repairs glow softly, like embers reigniting.

3. Harmonic Force Conduction

The network amplifies Itharion's presence; not with intimidation, but clarity.

Nanites channel:

 • calm

 • resolve

 • unbroken purpose

Into a soft, unwavering aura that steadies allies.

Where Caelum crushes morale, the Aegis restores it.

4. Constella-Shift Reconfiguration

The armor can subtly adjust:

 • vambrace length

 • greave contour

 • mantle positioning

To optimize:

 • balance

 • weight distribution

 • combat stance

These changes occur with astral precision, without distortion or menace.

5. Oracle Sensor Suite

By interacting with subtle Force fluctuations, the nanites can:

 • anticipate motion

 • heighten awareness

 • align armor response with intent

Not precognition, but harmonic intuition.

Personality

The Luminaris Weave is:

 • serene

 • stabilizing

 • focused

 • reminiscent of ancient Je’daii craftsmanship

It does not enhance battle-lust or intimidation. It enhances purpose, clarity, and mastery.

Symbolism

 • Light That Has Seen Darkness and Does Not Fear It: The Astral Aegis is not naïve radiance. It is informed radiance — the light of someone who has walked through shadow, survived it, integrated it, and emerged with clarity rather than innocence. This is not Light as denial. It is Light as understanding.

 • Refuge Made Manifest: To allies, the Aegis is an unspoken promise: You are safe. I am here. The night will not claim you. Where Caelum inspires dread, the Aegis inspires resolve.

 • The Ascendant Whole: The Aegis represents the version of Itharion who has outgrown dichotomy entirely. Not Light versus Dark. Not Jedi versus Sith. Not shadow embraced or shadow rejected. The Self, complete. It is what balance looks like when no longer in conflict — only in expression.

Field Usage Protocol

Unlike Caelum’s armor, which is used sparingly to weaponize fear, the Astral Aegis emerges in moments where presence matters more than intimidation.

 • Beacon in War: When hope is collapsing, when armies begin to break, the appearance of the Aegis can reverse entire fronts. Not through overwhelming power — but through overwhelming certainty. The troops do not see a warrior. They see a promise fulfilled.

 • Trial of Truth: In diplomatic or ideological confrontations, the Aegis is a living argument — a silent demonstration that balance is not hypothetical. It radiates sincerity so strongly that lies fracture under its presence.

 • Confrontation of Great Darkness: Against Dark Side warriors, avatars, the armor’s harmonic alloy emits a natural resonance that disrupts oppressive auras. It doesn’t dispel the Dark Side — it reminds it that it cannot dominate the field unchallenged.

Doctrine

“Light is not what I protect — it is what I become, when I choose to stand.”

Where Caelum’s creed is mastery over fear, the Astral Aegis is mastery over purpose.

Auric Infinity Alloy — The alloy of the Darth Caelum armor & the Astral Aegis

“The Metal That Remembers Creation”

— Exclusive to Caelum & Aegis. There can be no equal.

Epigraph — The Primordial Verse

“Perfection is not the absence of flaw. It is the moment matter realizes it may transcend itself.”
— Carved into the underside of Caelum’s armor & Astral Aegis cores

Classification:

Quantum-lattice omniphase composite of:

 • Primordial Beskar (untempered Mandalorian proto-metal found only in asteroid cores)

 • Ascendant Cortosis-Void (void-refined variant harvested from reactors at the edge of black holes)

 • Auric Luminite (a hyper-evolved Luminite crystal capable of tri-phase resonance)

 • Nanite Matrix Seed (Force-reactive molecular nanites grown rather than built)

 • Starforged Aetherium Dust (rare stellar residue formed only in the heart of supernova remnants)

 • Quantum Memory Filament (a theoretical material that records—not stores—Force patterns)

This composite is not heated, hammered, or folded. It is grown, like a living cosmic organ.

Description:

The Auric Infinity Alloy is not merely a metallurgical achievement — it is a metaphysical organism, a conscious lattice of matter and Force that operates simultaneously in:

 • Physical space

 • Quantum probability

 • Aetheric Force resonance

Its surface is alive with flowing, whisper-thin patterns of gold, silver, void-black, and soft white — not decorative, but topological veins representing the alloy’s continuous computation of reality.

Where the Eternal Weave Alloy is a perfect symbiosis of power, resilience, and efficiency…

The Auric Infinity Alloy is ascension materialized. It does not follow the laws of physics — it rewrites them around its wearer.

The nanite integration is seamless: nanites grow within the alloy like marrow in bone. They are not fused or embedded — they are part of its biology.

The armor does not “fit” the user. It knows the user.

Properties:

1. Omniphase Durability

Stronger than Beskar, denser than Cortosis, lighter than Eternal Weave. The alloy shifts its phase in microseconds:

 • Solid when enduring a blow

 • Fluid when dissipating an impact

 • Aetheric when channeling the Force

Nothing in the known galaxy can match this adaptability.

2. Infinite Energy Negation

The Cortosis-Void strain does not just short out energy weapons — it devours the energy, storing it in the Auric lattice and converting it into usable power.

Lightsabers don’t stop on it. Lightsabers fail against it.

3. Quantum Nanite Integration

Nanites are seeded into the lattice from its creation:

 • Self-repair in real time

 • Reconfigure armor structure instantly

 • Adapt to threats by altering shape, density, and topology

 • Generate new components as needed (weapons, shielding, accessories)

These nanites inherit the alloy’s Force-bound memory, making them instinctive.

4. Massless State Adaptation

Unlike The Eternal Weave alloy, which removes its weight through resonance…

The Auric Infinity Alloy can enter true non-mass states, becoming:

 • weightless

 • inertia-free

 • frictionless

 • outside the normal flow of movement

Itharion moves in armor as if he is moving in pure thought.

5. Force-Linked Sentience

The alloy is not alive — but it is aware.

It reacts to Itharion’s emotion, intent, instinct, and subconscious, interpreting:

 • micro-fluctuations in his aura

 • pulse shifts

 • neural static

 • Force echoes

It is the only alloy in existence that can act before its wearer — because it can predict his intention through resonance patterning.

6. Aetheric Symbiosis

The Auric Infinity Alloy amplifies the Force without corruption, functioning as a perfect conduit. Where traditional amplification risks imbalance, the Auric lattice stabilizes both sides:

 • Light flows brighter

 • Dark flows deeper

 • Balance becomes absolute

Itharion may channel Force quantities that would shred any ordinary Jedi, without harm.

7. Phase-Shift Offensive Potential

Both the Caelum armor & the Astral Aegis can:

 • Hard-phase: strike with infinite density

 • Soft-phase: bypass physical barriers

 • Aether-phase: channel Force attacks with unparalleled purity

The armors themselves become weapons.

Symbolism:

The Eternal Weave Alloy symbolizes harmony and transcendence.

But the Auric Infinity Alloy symbolizes something far greater: Creation’s apex — matter elevated beyond matter, Force elevated beyond force.

Where the Eternal Weave alloy redefines strength… the Auric Infinity alloy redefines possibility.

It is the embodiment of a singular truth:

“Nothing is eternal. Except the will to rise above what is.”

The Harmonic Sovereign

“Where fear and hope become the same truth.”

Designation: Echelon-Prime Harmonic Exosynthesis Platform

Class: Unity-Class Nanite Convergence Armor

Activation Command: No command. No pulse. No phrase. It forms when Itharion’s will reaches equilibrium.

Signature Effect:

“Balance takes form.”

Origin — Not Forged, but Realized

The Harmonic Sovereign did not begin as metal.

It began as a state of being.

After mastering the shadow (Caelum) and transcending into radiance (Aegis), Itharion eventually reached a point where neither form felt true.

Fear no longer ruled him. Light no longer guided him. He guided himself.

This internal unification triggered the dormant nanite strains within both armors, drawing them together and rewriting their lattice structures into something neither dark nor light, but conscious, coherent, and whole.

The result was not an upgrade… It was an ascension.

Visual Composition — The Form of Equilibrium

The Harmonic Sovereign appears alive, a seamless blend of opposing philosophies made harmonious.

Primary Aesthetic

 • Armor plates shimmer between deep star-black and radiant silver depending on angle.

 • The surface contains a subtle cosmic iridescence — like starlight reflecting off an event horizon.

 • Glyphs of both Caelum (shadow marks) and Aegis (luminous runes) interweave into unified sigils.

Helmet

 • A smooth, regal visor with a horizontal slit of prismatic light that shifts color with Itharion’s emotional spectrum.

 • No horns. No crown. No spikes.

 • A circlet of floating photonic motes orbit the helm — remnants of both armors’ nanite halos — symbolizing eternal balance.

Mantle

 • A cloak woven from stabilized singularity-threaded light-fabric, appearing black in shadow and radiant white in illumination.

 • Weightless. Silent. Almost mythic.

 • Responds to Itharion’s subconscious, lengthening or shortening for symbolism or intimidation.

Overall Presence

To Jedi: serenity so complete it’s unnerving. To Sith: power so calm it feels inescapable. To the Force-sensitive: the sensation of oneness.

Alloy Composition — The Unified Metal

Harmonic Alloy: Celestial Umbra-Luminite

Forged from the fusion of:

 • Caelum’s Umbrasteel (void-forged meta-alloy)

 • Aegis’s Celestium (luminous meteor-ore)

 • A new crystal matrix formed only during the unification event:
Equinox Crystalline Lattice

This alloy behaves like both shadow and light depending on Itharion’s intent.

It is simultaneously:

 • saber-resistant

 • energy-absorbing

 • light-bending

 • Force-conductive

It does not shift between states.

It is all states at once.

Nanotechnology System — The Final Synthesis

Echelon-Class Harmonic Nanites

The ultimate evolution of both thanaton (Caelum) and luminaris (Aegis) nanite families.

Capabilities

 • Self-stabilizing equilibrium field

 • Zero-harmonic assembly (instantaneous, silent, smooth)

 • Molecular memory that adapts to Itharion’s internal balance

 • Quantum regeneration through duality-loop synthesis

 • Cosmetic and structural reconfiguration at will

 • Ability to nullify both Light- and Dark-based corruption attempts

Activation Effect

Neither explosion of shadow nor eruption of light.

Instead:

A ripple — soft, cosmic, inevitable — as the armor coalesces into existence around him, the nanites weaving with fluid precision without sound or flash.

It is a manifestation of pure will.

Battlefield Role — The Avatar of Equilibrium

The Harmonic Sovereign is not built for war…

But for ending it.

Uses:

 • Stabilization of chaotic Force nexuses

 • Neutralization of Sith alchemy & Jedi hyper-luminosity

 • Diplomacy in impossible circumstances

 • Battles where both fear & hope are weapons

 • Situations requiring Itharion to embody balance itself

Effect on Allies

They feel:

 • clarity

 • courage

 • balance

 • grounding

 • the sense that “everything is exactly as it should be”

Effect on Enemies

They feel:

 • dissonance

 • inevitability

 • exposure

 • the impossibility of manipulating him emotionally

 • the collapse of their ideological certainty

The armor doesn’t intimidate or inspire.

It neutralizes.

Symbolic Archetype — The Final Truth of Itharion

Name:

The Harmonic Sovereign

Meaning:

 • Caelum represents conquered fear.

 • Aegis represents transcended hope.

 • The Sovereign represents the self that exists when neither is needed.

Not shadow. Not light. Not balance as compromise.

Balance as identity.

The armor is the living expression of Itharion’s complete integration — the moment he no longer exists as a response to the galaxy, but as the force that shapes it.

Canonical Manifestation Moment

Among the 595th, the sight of his final evolution is spoken of only in reverence:

“When the Force found its center.”

Weapons:

Lightsabers (Attack of the Clones - Clone Wars Season 1 to 3 until the Mortis Arc):

The Amethyst Fang

Designation:

The Warrior-General’s Blade — forged in the crucible of Revanite philosophy, tempered through Itharion’s training and battles.

Appearance:

Its hilt is a blend of austere steel and weathered grip, pragmatic and martial. Unlike ceremonial hilts, this one bears a soldier’s practicality: built to endure the rigors of war without losing its edge of elegance.

Crystal & Blade:

The kyber crystal resonates in deep violet — a hue born of light tempered by shadow. It reflects Itharion’s natural balance: he does not suppress the darkness, nor abandon the light, but allows both currents to fuel his will in combat.

Function & Doctrine:

 • Battle Unleashed: This is the saber of the warrior-general, ignited when pent-up energy must be released in decisive battle.

 • Revan’s Echo: Just as Revan taught that strength comes from acknowledging both sides of the Force, this blade mirrors that truth — not purity, but synthesis.

 • Mantle of Shadow: Paired with the Shadow Mantle armor, it is the blade of the battlefield avatar, the storm Itharion becomes when facing Sith acolytes and warlords.

Symbolism:

The violet blade is not serenity — it is struggle. It symbolizes Itharion’s battlefield identity, his willingness to channel the storm within himself for the sake of others, even when it threatens to consume him.

The Aureate Fang

Designation:

The Dawn’s Saber — the blade that embodies Itharion’s soul, his philosophy, and his image in the galaxy.

Appearance:

The hilt echoes his other saber in structure, but bears subtler refinements: etched motifs of Je’daii spirals and faint aureate inlays at the emitter, as though dawnlight were trapped in steel.

Crystal & Blade:

The blade burns in radiant yellow — not merely a temple sentinel’s hue, but a beacon of wisdom and adaptability. Its song is less warlike, more harmonic, a resonance of clarity and renewal.

Function & Doctrine:

 • Public Blade: This is the saber the galaxy knows him by. When he frees slaves, when he liberates worlds, when he speaks as a champion of the people — it is the Aureate Fang they see.

 • The Code Embodied: Unlike the amethyst blade, this one is tied to Itharion’s personal code, crafted from Jedi, Sith, and Je’daii philosophies alike. It is not compromise, but synthesis.

 • Dawn Regalia’s Twin: When paired with the Dawn Regalia, it completes the myth — the light-clad knight, the breaker of chains, the liberator.

Ancient Resonance:

Beneath its symbolism lies something deeper. The yellow crystal hums with an echo of the Eternal Family: Valkorion, Vaylin, Arcann, Thexan, and Senya. It is not mere memory, but a connection to truths older than the Jedi and Sith dichotomy. To wield this blade is to stand not only in the present war, but in continuity with powers and philosophies that once reshaped the galaxy itself.

Symbolism:

The Aureate Fang is Itharion’s truest self. Not his battlefield fury, nor his shadow confronted — but his soul revealed. It is the saber of balance made visible, of humanity armored in hope, of dawn cutting through shadow.

The Eclipsing Fang (Ceremonial Saberstaff)

Designation:

The Blade of Concord — a saberstaff not meant for war, but for revelation. Forged as a ritual instrument, it manifests Itharion’s reconciliation of shadow and light, used sparingly in solemn ceremonies or moments of profound spiritual weight.

Appearance:

The hilt gleams like a sanctified artifact: polished phrik-durasteel alloy with silver-white lines coursing along its length, intersected by crimson inlays. Its symmetry gives it the air of a ritual staff rather than a warrior’s tool. The twin emitters crown each end: one blossoms into a crimson blade veiled in shadow, the other into a radiant silver-white beam, like moonlight caught in crystal.

Blades & Crystals:

 • The Crimson Veil: Resonates with the raw honesty of passion, fury, and shadow — acknowledged, but not denied. It burns not as corruption, but as a truth unveiled.

 • The Silver Flame: A counterpoint of purity and serenity, carrying the unclouded harmony of the Living Force. It illuminates, not to blind, but to reveal.

Purpose & Ritual Use:

 • Ceremonial Invocation: Activated not on the battlefield, but in rites of passage, oaths, or confrontations where philosophy outweighs violence.

 • Symbol of Dual Authority: When presented, it declares Itharion not as warrior, but as mediator between extremes — light and shadow, order and freedom, creation and destruction.

 • Rarely Drawn in Combat: Though fully functional, it is seen less as a weapon of war and more as a reliquary, summoned in times of destiny rather than skirmish.

Symbolism:

 • The Eclipse: The coexistence of shadow and radiance, bound in a single form. The staff declares that balance is not compromise, but the acceptance of paradox.

 • Mortis Echo: The crimson and silver call back to the Son and Daughter, with Itharion as the bridge — not choosing between them, but embodying the Father’s unifying role.

 • The Living Relic: The Eclipsing Fang is less an extension of the warrior and more a ceremonial proclamation: Itharion is not divided — he is whole.

Doctrine:

“In shadow I burn, in light I shine — yet in both, I am.”

THE FOUR ILUM CRYSTALS

(Attack of the Clones → Clone Wars S1–3 Before Mortis Arc)

1. The Amethyst Crystal — The Warrior’s Resonance

Nature
This crystal does not amplify power — it stabilizes conflict. It is born from kyber that has witnessed war and survived without fracturing.

It answers warriors who:

 • accept violence without worshipping it

 • do not flinch from their own shadow

Resonance Properties (LIMITED & BALANCED)

• Force Load Distribution
During prolonged combat, the crystal redistributes Force strain across Itharion’s body and mind, preventing burnout but not restoring energy.

Effect: Slower fatigue accumulation, not regeneration.

• Combat Emotional Anchor
Rather than calming rage, it keeps it from escalating. The blade grows heavier and more resistant if Itharion begins to lose control.

Effect: Prevents berserker spirals; discourages excess brutality.

• Pressure Response
Under extreme opposition (Sith Lords, Dark Acolytes), the blade subtly increases density, making blocks feel immovable — but at the cost of agility.

Effect: Defensive dominance, offensive restraint.

2. The Aureate Crystal — The Dawn Resonance

Nature
This crystal aligns with purpose, not morality. It brightens when the wielder acts in accordance with their personal code — not the Jedi Code.

Resonance Properties

• Intent Clarity
When Itharion hesitates or acts dishonestly with himself, the blade subtly destabilizes — humming discordantly.

Effect: Emotional honesty enforcement, not mind reading.

• Force Efficiency
Techniques cost slightly less effort when used defensively, protectively, or to liberate.

Effect: Encourages heroism without boosting raw power.

• Civilian Presence Stabilizer
In populated areas, the blade dampens collateral Force surges.

Effect: Prevents accidental devastation — not pacification.

Ancient Echo
The Eternal Family resonance here is passive.

It does not grant knowledge. It does not empower abilities. It merely creates a sense of continuity. An harmonic memory, not a conduit.

3. The Crimson-Black Crystal — The Veiled Truth

Nature
This crystal is not bled. It formed naturally under immense gravitational and emotional pressure — likely in a kyber fault zone. The black core is not corruption; it is density.

Resonance Properties

• Emotional Truth Amplifier
The blade responds to what Itharion actually feels, not what he believes he should feel.

Effect: Hypocrisy weakens the blade; honesty stabilizes it.

• Force Intimidation Field (Minor)
Dark-aligned opponents feel exposed when facing it — not frightened, but seen.

Effect: Slight disruption of Sith composure, not dominance.

• Aggression Feedback
If used excessively or cruelly, the blade becomes unstable, threatening to short itself.

Effect: Hard cap on slaughter potential.

4. The Silver-White Crystal — The Quiet Flame

Nature
Extremely rare Ilum kyber that resonates with the Living Force — not serenity, but awareness.

Resonance Properties

• Force Perception Enhancement
Improves awareness of emotional and Force disturbances — not precognition.

Effect: Early warning, not foresight.

• Non-Lethal Precision Bias
The blade naturally resists lethal strikes unless intent is absolute.

Effect: Encourages restraint, not immunity.

• Meditative Conduit
When deactivated, the crystal continues to hum softly during meditation.

Effect: Faster emotional recovery, not healing.

The Ilum Convergence — Backstory of the Four Crystals

During the second year of Itharion Skywalker-Shan’s (at that time only Shan) tutelage under Revan, the ancient Master brought him to Ilum — not for a Trial of Acquisition, but for a lesson in listening.

The Jedi of old taught that a Padawan must find their kyber.

Revan rejected this doctrine.

“Kyber is not taken,” he told Itharion. “It is answered.”

Ilum’s crystal caverns sang quietly beneath the ice, resonating with the Living Force in slow, patient rhythms. Revan established their camp far from the traditional trial chambers and forbade Itharion from entering the caverns for three days.

Instead, Itharion was made to live with the planet.

He walked its frozen plains in silence.

He listened to the wind fracture against ice spires.

He meditated beneath auroras that bent light into impossible colors.

Revan instructed him to do nothing else.

On the fourth day, Itharion was permitted to enter the caverns — not as a seeker, but as a presence.

He did not reach out with the Force.

He did not search.

He stood at the threshold of the crystal chamber, removed his gloves, placed his bare hand against the ice-slick stone, and spoke a single truth into the Force:

“I am here.”

The response was immediate — and unprecedented.

The cavern’s song deepened, harmonics overlapping in discordant unity. The Force did not answer with a single resonance, but with four distinct chords, rising simultaneously from different strata of the chamber.

One by one, they emerged.

The First — The Amethyst Fang

A deep violet crystal broke free from the cavern wall, heavy and dense, its light muted yet unyielding. Its resonance was not calm, nor violent — but enduring.

Revan recognized it instantly.

“This one is for the war you will survive.”

The amethyst crystal did not burn bright. It held.

It answered the part of Itharion that would carry armies, endure loss, and continue fighting long after others would break.

The Second — The Aureate Fang

From higher within the chamber, a crystal of radiant gold descended, its light warm and steady, illuminating the cavern without glare. Its hum was harmonic, almost welcoming.

This crystal did not respond to conflict within Itharion — but to clarity.

Bastila Shan’s presence stirred within the Force, her voice gentle and approving.

“This is how the galaxy will know you.”

The aureate crystal resonated with Itharion’s convictions, his compassion, and the path he would walk in the open — as liberator, speaker, and symbol.

The Third — The Crimson Veil

The cavern darkened.

From deep beneath the ice, a crimson crystal rose slowly, its core threaded with a pulsing black vein — not bled, not corrupted, but dense with unexpressed truth.

The Force around it felt honest.

Revan did not intervene. He did not warn.

“This one,” he said quietly, “will never lie to you.”

The crystal answered the shadow Itharion did not deny — his anger, his capacity for destruction, and his refusal to pretend otherwise. It did not demand surrender.

It demanded acknowledgment.

The Fourth — The Silver Flame

Last came the quietest response.

A silver-white crystal, almost translucent, drifted forward as if carried on breath rather than Force. Its resonance was subtle — not a sound, but an awareness.

When Itharion reached for it, the cavern fell silent.

This crystal did not answer who he was.

It answered that he was listening.

It bonded to the part of Itharion that observed, reflected, and restrained — the voice that would one day stand between gods and refuse to choose annihilation.

Aftermath

Four crystals hovered before him.

No Jedi record spoke of such a convergence.

Itharion did not claim them.

He bowed.

Only then did the crystals settle into his hands.

Revan later recorded the event in his private holocron, sealing the entry with a warning:

“These crystals are not weapons. They are questions the Force has chosen to ask through him. When the answers change, so too will the blades.”

The sabers forged from these crystals would carry Itharion through the early stages of the Clone Wars, through command and consequence, through victory and restraint — until the day Ilum’s gifts were laid down willingly, and the Crystals of Mortis answered a call far older than ice.

New Lightsabers and Crystals (Clone Wars Season 3 after Mortis Arc to Season 7 - Revenge of The Sith):

The Twin Mortis Saberstaffs

Designation: The Eclipsing Crown & The Dawnsunder Spire

Forged After: The Trial of Mortis

When Itharion emerged from the crucible of Mortis, he bore not one but two saberstaffs — manifestations of what he had become. These were no weapons of metal and crystal alone; they were living conduits, written into being by the will of the Force. Each was forged from phrik-beskar alloy etched with Mortis sigils that seem to shimmer with motion when gazed upon. At their cores rest crystals unlike any others — not mined, not found, but gifted directly by the Force itself.

The Eclipsing Crown

A staff wrapped in flowing dark-silver etchings, its surface glimmering like obsidian waves under starlight. Its twin blades manifest in ever-shifting hues — violets, blacks, blood-reds, and more — never fixed, always in flux. Each ignition seems to test Itharion anew, as though the weapon itself demands the wielder reaffirm their balance.

 • A paradox in metal and light: rage bound within serenity, destruction framed by restraint.

 • Some Jedi whispered it was the echo of the Son of Mortis — shadow incarnate — yet here bound, not unleashed.

 • In ceremony, its alternating glow wreathes the wielder in a coronet of eclipses: not dominion, but burden accepted.

The Dawnsunder Spire

Its twin, more radiant yet equally profound, bears engravings like streams of light shattering stormclouds. Its blades shine in dazzling whites, blues, greens, and golds — though no color is denied to it — sometimes even burning with opposing hues, a living reminder of duality reconciled.

 • Said to echo the Daughter of Mortis — not innocence, but radiance forged through trial.

 • In rites of liberation, when raised above freed peoples, its prismatic brilliance was described as “a sunrise fractured into endless shards.”

 • It is not merely a weapon, but a ritual beacon — a living standard of what Itharion had become after Mortis: neither Jedi nor Sith, but something greater.

Together: The Mortis Dyad

The Eclipsing Crown and Dawnsunder Spire are never carried idly. Together they form the Mortis Dyad — one born of shadowed flame, the other of shattering dawn. They are not tools of conquest, but banners of transcendence, living proclamations that balance has shape, voice, and light.

To ignite them in tandem is to bind heaven and abyss into one arc of flame — and to declare before friend and foe alike: this is what it means to be whole.

(The hilts can be detached into four smaller hilts for Telekinetic Lightsaber Combat)

The Heir’s Emberblade

Designation: Successor’s Fang

Lineage: Modeled upon the hilt of Anakin Skywalker, yet altered with Itharion’s own hand

Design:

The Emberblade’s hilt is sleek, functional, and unmistakably reminiscent of Anakin’s iconic saber, yet it refuses to be a mere echo. Forged from matte obsidian phrik, its surface is broken by auric-gilded conduits and finely carved sigils of Itharion’s own making — a language of heritage and will etched into the metal itself.

Most striking of all is the exposed kyber crystal chamber, framed within latticed beskar. Even dormant, the crystal glows faintly, its radiance pulsing like a heartbeat — a living core revealed to the world, not hidden away.

Where Anakin’s saber was a knight’s tool, this weapon is something greater: not allegiance, not duty, but identity incarnate.

Dual-Aspect Configuration — Dawn & Dusk

The Emberblade’s hilt possesses a secondary alchemical finish engineered by Anakin and refined by Itharion: a dual-aspect surface state known as Dawn and Dusk.

At will, the matte obsidian phrik exterior can shift seamlessly into its Dawn Aspect — a matte ivory-white ceramic-alchemical sheen that retains all gold elements unchanged. The transformation does not repaint or disguise the hilt; rather, it reveals a second bonded surface layer woven into the phrik itself, activated through internal resonance and micro-actuated material memory.

No seams appear. No mechanisms are visible. The gold remains constant — the unbroken thread between both states.

 • Dusk Aspect (Black): Resolve, endurance, and the will to walk through shadow without surrender.

 • Dawn Aspect (White): Clarity, integration, and the choice to carry power without fear.

Anakin designed the system to mirror the Bonded Vestments — not as a moral switch, but as a reminder. The weapon does not judge the state Itharion is in; it reflects the state he chooses to stand in.

The Emberblade is thus never out of balance. Only its bearer decides which truth it speaks.

Blade:

When ignited, the Emberblade mirrors the shifting light of Itharion’s Mortis-born saberstaffs — but with greater discipline. Its plasma flows through a spectrum of colors: indigos, crimsons, pale blues, golds, and more. The hues change not randomly, but like a tide, as though the crystal itself reflects the wielder’s shifting states of balance.

Unlike the saberstaffs’ chaotic and prismatic radiance, this weapon burns as a singular, honed current of power — chaos forged into clarity.

The Crystal’s Blessing

The Emberblade does not house an ordinary kyber, but one of the Mortis-forged crystals, born of the Force itself. As with the Twin Saberstaffs, its properties are unmatched:

 • Living Lightning: Each strike may unleash jolts of Force-conductive electricity, staggering even the most entrenched foes.

 • Regenerative Resonance: Its presence restores Itharion’s strength, both physical and spiritual, knitting him back to wholeness with every clash.

 • Adaptive Flame: Length, width, temperature and even hue can be commanded at will, making the blade as flexible as the wielder’s intent.

 • Amplified Communion: The saber magnifies Itharion’s connection to the Force, sharpening instinct, foresight, and presence until every battle feels like inevitability unfolding.

Origin & Lore:

The Emberblade was not forged in solitude, but in shared memory. After the Mortis Trials — when both brothers had faced their reflections and emerged reforged — Anakin set himself to work.

In his private workshop aboard the Resolute, scraps of phrik, shards of beskar lattice, and the faintly pulsing Mortis crystal rested before him. It was not a commission, nor a duty. It was an act of love.

Where the Bonded Vestments had been meant to protect Itharion’s body, this was meant to safeguard his spirit. Anakin designed the weapon as a reflection — not of power, but of trust. Its exposed crystal chamber was his idea: “If you’re going to carry your light, don’t hide it.”

Itharion tried to refuse it at first. He already bore two weapons born of Mortis itself, and feared the symbolism might weigh too heavily. But Anakin’s answer was simple, spoken without ceremony:

“You don’t need another saber. You need a promise. When you fall, this will remind you who you are — and who waits for you.”

The Emberblade was thus born not in fire, but in forgiveness — the meeting point between brothers who had both carried too much destiny, and who, for once, allowed themselves to carry each other.

When Itharion first ignited the blade, its light cycled through violets, blacks, blood-reds, dazzling whites, blues, greens, and golds — hues that mirrored their bond: twilight and dawn, darkness and hope intertwined.

It was never meant for the Temple archives, nor to stand beside ancient relics. It was meant to live, to burn, to be used — a brother’s gift meant for a brother’s path.

Symbolism:

 • To the Jedi, the weapon was both solace and unease: its familiar shape recalling a Skywalker legacy, its exposed crystal a reminder of how far from orthodoxy Itharion had walked.

 • To Itharion, it was acceptance. He would not bury his brother’s legacy, nor deny it — but neither would he be defined by it. The saber was his answer to Anakin’s shadow: a legacy transformed rather than abandoned.

 • The visible crystal chamber stands as a vow — that unlike Anakin, Itharion will carry his conflicts openly, refusing to hide the fractures within.

Symbolic Parallels to the Bonded Vestments:

 • Creation Through Love: Both items were handcrafted by Anakin — not as Master to apprentice, but as brother to brother.

 • Balance in Duality: The exposed crystal and asymmetrical gauntlet both mirror the Skywalker theme — power tempered by vulnerability.

 • Shared Legacy: Each artifact carries traces of both men — Anakin’s design, Itharion’s refinement. Neither is whole without the other.

 • Promise of Return: Where the Bonded Vestments promised safety, the Emberblade promises remembrance — that no matter how far Itharion walks from the light, there is a hand waiting to pull him back.

Use:

Unlike the ceremonial saberstaffs, which stand as banners of Mortis and ritual symbols, the Emberblade is Itharion’s true weapon. This is the blade that cuts, parries, endures, and fights when ceremony must fall away.

Where the staff is spectacle, the Emberblade is resolve — wielded with a restrained ferocity, each motion measured, deliberate, and absolute.

It is not the brightest star in his arsenal, nor the grandest — but it is the flame he trusts most.

The Crystals of Mortis

At the moment of their bestowal, the Force whispered:

“These are not simple Kyber Crystals. They carry the essence of Sokari, Firkrann, Kaiburr… and of the two forgotten hearts: the Guardian and the Mantle. Your blades will strike with currents of living lightning, they will restore your spirit and your body, and they will deepen your bond to us beyond imagining. They will obey your will — length, width, hue bending to your command. They are more than shards of light: they are us, and you.”

Nature and Resonance 

The Crystals of Mortis are sentient symphonies of energy; self-aware lenses through which the Force perceives itself. Their inner structure is fractal, ever-shifting, their glow fluid between gold, violet, and white depending on the wielder’s state of being.

Each crystal harmonizes with the wielder’s breath, heartbeat, and thought, forming a neural and spiritual link that transcends mechanical focus. When wielded by Itharion, they hum in deep tones not heard by the ear but felt within the soul: a reminder that balance can roar as well as whisper.

Unified Properties

Each crystal bears the merged gifts once scattered among the five ancient sources.

 • The Will of Sokari — Electrified Life:
Every strike hums with living thunder, discharging Force-born currents that cleanse corruption rather than burn flesh. The blades become rivers of sentient lightning, guided by intention, capable of disrupting saber fields and mechanical circuits alike.

 • The Judgement of Firkrann — Kinetic Dominion: Impact through these blades travels as ripples in the Force, multiplying momentum without cruelty. A parry becomes an avalanche; a feint, a storm. The crystal interprets motion as dialogue: punishing arrogance, rewarding precision.

 • The Breath of Kaiburr — Restoration and Renewal: In the wielder’s grasp, exhaustion fades. The crystal feeds energy back through the body, restoring clarity, vitality, and focus. Even minor wounds begin to close, not by healing flesh, but by reminding it of its original pattern.

 • The Heart of the Guardian — Equilibrium in Emotion: The crystal responds not to serenity, but to truth. Rage and peace alike become fuel, their contradiction harmonized into unity. When wielded without deceit, the blade reflects the soul perfectly; its hue shifting with emotion but never faltering in coherence.

 • The Mantle of the Force — Source Beyond Time: The crystal amplifies connection with the cosmic current. Within its proximity, Itharion perceives not the future or the past, but the continuum; a single living thread. Through it, he can shape the sabers themselves: length, density, hue, even temperature, bending to will as thought to breath.

Manifestations of the Crystals of Mortis

Each Mortis Crystal does not merely enhance Itharion’s blade, it interacts with his will. They are sentient conduits, extensions of his perception, reshaping the battlefield as expressions of balance itself.

The following are the known and witnessed manifestations of the sabers forged from these five living crystals:

1. Luminous Resonance (Passive Aura): When ignited, the sabers emit not only light but presence. Within a five-meter radius, the air hums with harmonic frequency — attuning all who stand within it to the rhythm of the Force. This effect calms allies, stabilizes fear, and disrupts deception. Inversely, those consumed by darkness feel an unbearable pressure, as if their own rage recoils from the sabers’ purity.

Effect: Passive Force equilibrium field — strengthens morale and clarity among allies; weakens focus, coordination, and Force control of nearby darksiders.

2. The Breath of Mortis (Force Adaptation): The sabers learn. Every time they clash against a weapon, armor, or Force technique, they retain trace echoes of its energy signature. Within seconds, they adapt — either absorbing or countering that frequency on the next strike. Blaster bolts curve subtly away, Sith lightning disperses across their blades like harmless rain, and vibroblades crumble under resonant feedback.

Effect: Combat Adaptation — temporary resistance or counteractive resonance to repeated forms of attack (energy, kinetic, elemental, or even metaphysical).

3. The Dawnflare Effect (Kinetic Transcendence): When Itharion focuses both sabers, when wielding the Dyad of Mortis, into unison, crossing them in ritual stance, a burst of pure radiance floods outward — not heat, but the raw energy of renewal. Enemies struck by it are not burned; they are disarmed of hatred, their rage stunned into silence for moments. To machines, it acts as an EMP. To the living, it feels like being forced to remember light.

Effect: Wide-range Force purification pulse that disorients Dark Side users and disables droids momentarily.

4. The Shifting Lattice (Form Modulation): The blades’ structure can phase between solid and fluid light, allowing Itharion to alter the nature of their contact. He can make them cut matter as plasma, strike with kinetic pressure like solid cortosis, or phase through armor to disrupt circuitry or nervous systems without killing.

Effect: Variable Blade Density — can toggle between lethal and non-lethal applications, enabling precise control and versatility in combat and negotiation alike.

5. Harmonic Reversion (Temporal Pulse): In rare moments of perfect alignment — when Itharion’s emotional center is wholly balanced — the sabers can “fold” a fragment of time around him. It lasts less than a breath, but within that heartbeat, he moves through the slowed world untouched. This is not speed — it is temporal stillness, a perfect moment where balance becomes reality.

Effect: Extremely taxing micro-temporal stasis field (roughly 0.7 seconds subjective duration), enabling unparalleled evasion or counterattack.

6. The Mirror’s Cry (Force Reflection): When Itharion channels Tutaminis or absorbs an attack directly into his sabers, the Mortis Crystals amplify it — returning the energy not as a beam, but as an echo of the attacker’s own intent. Lightning rebounds as harmonic sound. Blaster fire becomes a flash of pure light. Dark energy returns to its sender as clarity — an almost poetic punishment.

Effect: Force Reflection — reverts absorbed energy back at the attacker in a symbolic form, bypassing standard defenses.

7. The Voice of the Balance (Resonant Projection): Through deep meditation, Itharion can channel his voice and thoughts through the sabers as harmonic waves. When planted in the ground, they become conduits for communication, allowing his words to reach allies across immense distances through the Force. Some worlds whisper of him using this technique to calm entire cities before battle — his voice heard in dreams and storm-winds.

Effect: Resonant Projection — telepathic and empathic communication through the sabers’ energy field; can transmit emotion, memory, or even mild healing across great distances.

8. The Light Unending (Rebirth Protocol): This is the sabers’ most secret manifestation — a gift whispered only once through Revan’s holocron. If Itharion’s life were ever extinguished while in possession of the sabers, they would not deactivate. They would anchor his consciousness — preserving his spirit as a living echo until balance was restored, or until his body could be healed by Force healers nearby. It is not immortality. It is remembrance — the Force’s refusal to let one of its perfect vessels fade unjustly.

Effect: Post-Mortem Anchoring — sabers sustain Itharion’s consciousness within the Force for a limited time after death or fatal injury, permitting final actions or communication.

9. The Chorus of the One (Dyadic Resonance): When fighting alongside another Force-bonded individual — Padmé, Anakin, or Revan — the sabers “sing.” The pitch shifts, synchronizing to their partner’s Force rhythm. In such moments, Itharion and his bonded ally move as one being — reacting to threats before they appear, fighting with near-telepathic coordination.

Effect: Dyad Amplification — strengthens shared Force bonds and reflexes, creating unified combat flow; amplifies both users’ Force abilities within proximity.

10. The Veil of Mercy (Moral Reflection): The sabers can discern intent. Against the innocent or the repentant, their light will dim — warning Itharion before he strikes a soul who can still be saved. Against those irredeemably corrupted, the blades blaze brighter, almost unbearably so.

Effect: Sentient Moral Perception — slight resistance against striking non-hostile or balanced beings; intuitive sense of moral alignment in foes.

Darth Caelum’s Lightsaber

Designation: Noctis Rex

Common Epithets:

 • The Sovereign Fang

 • The Black Flame

 • The King-in-Shadow’s Blade

Classification: Force-Integrated Dominance Weapon
Bond: Exclusive — Darth Caelum Persona Only

Design Philosophy

Where the Emberblade is:

 • Open

 • Visible

 • Honest

 • Exposed

Noctis Rex is:

 • Sealed

 • Contained

 • Absolute

 • Deliberately concealed

This is not a saber of balance.

This is a saber of controlled tyranny — worn briefly, wielded decisively, then put away.

Physical Design

Hilt

The hilt is forged from the same reality-warping meta-alloy as Caelum’s armor, but refined into a darker, denser configuration.

Shape:

 • Slightly longer than standard

 • Subtly tapered toward the emitter

 • No exposed seams

 • No visible fasteners

 • No ornamentation

It looks industrial, predatory, and final.

Surface:

 • Matte void-black

 • Absorbs light rather than reflecting it

 • Faint Force-etched fracture lines run beneath the surface, visible only when the blade is ignited

These fractures are not damage — they are pressure marks, like stress lines in reality itself.

Grip

 • Wrapped in synthetic shadow-leather, grown rather than woven

 • Warm to the touch, regardless of environment

 • Slightly textured, almost organic

When held, the saber feels:

 • Heavy

 • Certain

 • Anchored

It does not invite finesse.

It demands commitment.

Emitter

The emitter is angular, reinforced, and brutalist.

Instead of vents, it uses micro-singularity exhaust ports, bleeding excess energy into null-space rather than venting it outward.

This prevents:

 • Audible hum fluctuations

 • Unstable resonance

 • Emotional bleed-through

The blade ignites without flourish.

No snap-hiss.

No dramatic flare.

Just presence.

Crystal & Power Source

The Umbral Kyber — “The King’s Silence”

Unlike the Emberblade’s Mortis-forged crystal, Noctis Rex houses a compressed Umbral Kyber, grown rather than bled.

This crystal was created through:

 • Acceptance of shadow

 • Voluntary dominance

 • Total emotional clarity

 • Zero self-deception

It was not corrupted.

It was condensed.

The crystal exists in a state of permanent internal tension — light and dark collapsed into a single, oppressive singularity.

Blade Characteristics

Color

The blade appears as:

 • Absolute black at the core

 • Surrounded by a razor-thin crimson corona

 • With faint silver-violet lightning crawling along the edge

It does not glow.

It devours illumination.

Surfaces near it appear dimmer, flatter, less real.

Sound

The blade emits:

 • A low, subsonic pressure hum

 • Felt more than heard

 • Like distant thunder trapped underground

Those sensitive to the Force report:

“It sounds like the galaxy holding its breath.”

Blade Behavior

 • Slightly heavier than standard plasma

 • Cuts through Force barriers, not around them

 • Resists parries — blades tend to slide toward the opponent’s guard rather than away

 • Leaves wounds that ache after the blade is gone, due to lingering Force vacuum

This is not elegance.

This is inevitability.

Unique Abilities

1. Dominion Lock

When Caelum commits to a strike, the saber briefly anchors local reality.

Effects:

 • Opponents feel slowed

 • Dodges become less effective

 • Force-based precognition stutters

Not because time stops — but because will overrides probability.

2. Umbral Severance

Noctis Rex can:

 • Disrupt Force bonds

 • Collapse sustained abilities

 • Temporarily sever dark side rituals

Against Sith:

 • Their power feels hollow

 • Their rage finds no purchase

 • Their fear rebounds inward

This is why Sith cults kneel.

3. Shadow Synchronization

The saber resonates with:

 • Caelum’s armor

 • The Umbral Nanite Colony

 • The Crimson Sigil

Together, they form a closed loop of terror:

 • Blade

 • Body

 • Presence

Each amplifies the other.

Origin & Lore

Noctis Rex was not forged by Anakin.

It was forged by Itharion alone.

After Mortis. After Caelum’s acceptance. After the Emberblade had already been gifted.

This saber was created in silence.

No witnesses. No blessing. No ceremony.

Itharion forged it not as a weapon he wanted — but as one he might someday need.

He sealed the crystal chamber completely.

No one sees its heart.

Because Caelum does not explain himself.

Symbolism

 • Sealed Crystal: Power acknowledged, not shared

 • Black Blade: Shadow mastered, not indulged

 • Crimson Corona: Warning, not invitation

 • Heavy Presence: Choice carries weight

Where the Emberblade says:

“I remember who I am.”

Noctis Rex says:

“I remember what must be done.”

Doctrine of Use

Noctis Rex is only drawn when:

 • Diplomacy has failed

 • Mercy would cause greater harm

 • Fear will save more lives than hope

 • A Sith must be broken before battle begins

When the blade is ignited:

 • The discussion is over

 • The verdict is final

When it is extinguished:

 • Caelum is laid to rest again

Final Contrast

Anakin gave Itharion the blade that would bring him back.

Itharion forged the blade that would ensure he never needs saving.

Final Line

“This blade is not who I am. It is what I become when the galaxy refuses to listen.”

Lightsaber Of The Astral Aegis

“Lux Concordia”

(Common epithets: The Dawnblade, The Starbound Oath, The Harmonic Saber)

Designation

Name: Lux Concordia
Meaning: “Light in Accord”
Not light in dominance.
Not light in denial.
Light that exists because it belongs.

Where Noctis Rex is sovereignty through shadow, Lux Concordia is authority through presence.

Philosophical Role

This saber is not drawn to intimidate.

It is drawn when:

 • truth must stand unbroken

 • hope must not waver

 • balance must be demonstrated, not argued

If Noctis Rex says “I will end you if I must,”
Lux Concordia says:

“You will not pass — and you already know why.”

Hilt Design

Overall Shape

 • Elegant, elongated hilt, slightly longer than standard Jedi sabers

 • No aggressive angles

 • Every curve is intentional, flowing, restrained

 • Designed to be held comfortably in one hand, but balanced perfectly for two

Material Composition

Forged from the same Unified Force-Reactive Alloy as the Astral Aegis, but refined differently:

 • Argent-white base metal

 • Subtle internal starlight shimmer

 • No gloss, no mirror finish — it absorbs attention rather than reflecting it

The hilt looks warm, even when inactive.

Grip Section

 • Wrapped in pale Armorweave identical to the Mantle of Dawn

 • Woven with Je’daii harmonic threading

 • Feels alive in the hand — not moving, but aware

When held:

 • heartbeat steadies

 • breathing deepens

 • fear quiets

Enemies notice this too.

Emitter Assembly — The Dawn Crown

The emitter is the saber’s most iconic feature.

 • A halo-style emitter ring, floating a millimeter above the hilt via micro-repulsor harmonics

 • Thin, luminous channels etched with Je’daii resonance keys

 • When activated, the blade does not ignite violently

It unfolds.

Light gathers. Condenses. Aligns.

Like a star forming — silently inevitable.

Control Interface

No buttons.

No switches.

Activation occurs through intent resonance.

If Itharion reaches for dominance, the saber will not respond. If he reaches for clarity, purpose, or protection — it ignites instantly.

Others cannot activate it.

Even Force-sensitive beings feel only silence.

Kyber Crystal — The Astral Kyber

Designation

Astral Kyber — Harmonic Variant

Appearance

 • Semi-translucent

 • Pearlescent white core

 • Internal prismatic filaments that resemble slow-moving constellations

 • Emits no raw glow — the light is structured, disciplined

Nature

Unlike conventional kyber:

 • It does not amplify emotion

 • It amplifies coherence

It resonates with:

 • resolve without rage

 • compassion without weakness

 • power without hunger

The crystal does not sing loudly.

It hums.

Blade Characteristics

Color

Radiant White-Gold, edged with faint cerulean highlights

Not blinding. Not harsh.

Clear.

The color of:

 • dawn breaking through cloud cover

 • stars seen from deep vacuum

 • truth revealed gently but irrevocably

Blade Texture

 • Perfectly smooth

 • No flicker

 • No instability

 • Appears denser than normal blades

Strikes do not crack or hiss violently.

They part.

Blade Behavior & Unique Properties

1. Harmonic Cutting

The blade does not burn indiscriminately.

It cuts:

 • weapons before limbs

 • restraints before bodies

 • barriers before lives

It can choose not to kill — without losing effectiveness.

2. Aura of Clarity

While ignited:

 • oppressive Dark Side auras weaken

 • Force illusions destabilize

 • lies become harder to maintain

Not because the saber “purges” darkness — but because clarity makes deception expensive.

3. Ally Synchronization

Allies within proximity experience:

 • steadier reflexes

 • improved coordination

 • reduced panic

They fight better simply because they believe again.

Symbolism

The Saber as a Statement

This is not the weapon of a conqueror.

It is the weapon of someone who:

 • has nothing to prove

 • has already survived the worst

 • stands because someone must

Contrast with Noctis Rex

They are never wielded together.

If both are drawn — something has gone catastrophically wrong.

Final Doctrine Inscription

(Hidden inside the hilt, visible only to Itharion)

“I do not burn away the darkness. I stand long enough that it remembers the light.”

The Darksaber of Equilibrium

Designation:

Not forged by Mandalorian smiths, nor claimed by conquest, but willed into being by the Force itself. During the Mortis trial, the blade manifested as proof of Itharion’s worth — not because of lineage, not because of destiny, but because he achieved the rarest state: harmony between shadow and light. Where others carry sabers as weapons, this one is a covenant.

Construction:

 • Force-Wrought Hilt: Unlike other hilts of phrik or beskar, this hilt bears no sign of craftsmanship. Its seamless frame of matte obsidian and argent streaks feels both ancient and newborn, as if it were carved directly from the void of creation. It does not corrode, nor fracture; it simply is.

 • Kyber Singularity: At its heart lies no crystal one could mine. Instead, a singularity of condensed Force resonance — appearing as a shard of light fractured by veins of shadow. It pulses in a rhythm that mirrors the wielder’s state of balance.

 • Blade of Twilight Flame: Unlike the jagged plasma of the Vizsla Darksaber, this blade is smoother, its edges rimmed in silver sparks like lightning crawling across stormclouds. Its core hums with black light fractured by radiant cracks, an eternal interplay of opposites locked in unison.

Symbolism:

 • Independence from Legacy: Where the Mandalorian Darksaber chained wielders to rule, this one severs such ties. It is not about thrones or clans, but selfhood.

 • The Balance Embodied: Its very form is paradox — shadow made luminous, light made solid. To wield it is to understand that neither side must dominate, for both are halves of a whole.

 • Trial Made Manifest: The blade is not carried into battle to prove supremacy. It is carried as living testament that Itharion endured Mortis and was acknowledged by the Force itself.

Doctrine:

 • Wielded with Restraint: This saber is not for every duel, nor every foe. It answers only when balance is threatened or when truth itself must be defended.

 • The Voice of the Force: In its presence, Jedi and Sith alike feel a dissonance — as though the Force itself resists their extremes. For allies, it is a symbol of stability; for enemies, a mirror they cannot endure.

 • Eternal Keeper: Unlike other sabers, it cannot be lost, stolen, or passed by inheritance. If Itharion falls from balance, the blade will extinguish — returning to the Force until another worthy rises.

Proclamation of Mortis:

“This is no weapon of conquest. It is the chord of harmony, the blade sung into being by the Force eternal. Where others bind themselves to shadow or light, this one stands as the bridge — the flame that cannot be unmade, so long as balance endures.”

The Song of the Darksaber of Equilibrium

(Known among the Clans as “The Prophecy of the Final Mand’alor”)

“When iron weeps and suns are slain, when the Creed becomes cage and the clans devour their kin, then shall the Void whisper again. From the ashes of war’s last crown shall rise the Helmed One — the bearer of dusk and dawn in one hand. He shall walk upon the flame that knows no master, and his steps shall sound like thunder upon beskar dust. In his grasp shall burn the blade of two lights — shadow’s fury and dawn’s mercy intertwined. Its edge shall drink both sin and sanctity, and its name shall unmake division. Upon his brow shall rest the crown that devours stars, the helm that remembers the screams of empires. And beneath him shall wake the Beast That Sleeps Beneath Worlds, its breath the wind of Mandalore reborn. He shall not come as conqueror, nor as priest, but as Balance — the war that ends all wars. And when his voice echoes through the forge, the metal shall remember harmony.”

The Creed of the Waiting Flame

(The Verse of the Night Owls — spoken before battle and coronation alike)

“By fire we are forged. By shadow we are tested. By dawn we are reborn. One blade, two lights. One helm, a thousand wars remembered. One rider, the Beast awoken. This is the Way before the Way. When the Blade of Equilibrium burns once more, the clans shall rise as one flame unbroken. No creed shall bind, no blood shall divide — for the Mand’alor of Balance shall lead the storm to stillness. His Darksaber will not command — it will unite. His mask will not conceal — it will remind. And the Mythosaur beneath him shall roar the first dawn of peace. We are his echo. We are his flame. We await the Equilibrium.”

The Heir’s Emberblade & The Dyad of Mortis’ different blades hues:

DARTH CAELUM

Classified: Reforged Jedi Archives // Mortis Concordance // Sith Lineage Studies

“Darkness denied becomes rot. Darkness acknowledged becomes root.”

— Grandmaster Itharion Skywalker-Shan

I. Designation

Title: Darth Caelum
Bearer: Itharion Skywalker-Shan.  
Nature: Sovereign Shadow Aspect
Classification: Integrated Sith Identity (Non-Corruptive)
Status: Active, Controlled, Voluntary

II. The Name — Caelum

Linguistic Origin

The name Caelum derives from ancient Galactic Basic, Old High Sith, and proto-Je’daii linguistic overlap.

Primary meanings:

 • Caelum — Sky, Heavens, Vault above all things

 • Cael — Height, Dominion, Overwatch

 • Caelum Noctis — The Night Sky

Symbolic Meaning

Where Sith titles traditionally evoke:

 • destruction (Bane),

 • hunger (Nihilus),

 • dominion (Sidious),

 • or void (Tenebrae),

Caelum does something radically different.

It does not mean abyss.

It does not mean darkness below.

It means:

The darkness above you.

The night sky. The infinite. The silence that watches, not devours.

Darth Caelum is not the pit beneath morality — he is the ceiling over it.

III. Why “Darth” Still Applies

Itharion does not reject the title Darth.

He reclaims it.

Sith Etymology

“Darth” originates from:

• Daritha — “breaker”

• Dar’tan — “one who remakes through will”

For the Sith, it meant:

breaking others to assert dominance.

For Itharion, it means:

breaking illusion to assert truth.

Darth Caelum is not “Dark Lord of the Sith.”

He is:

The Lord of the Acknowledged Shadow.

A Sith identity without Sith submission.

IV. Bloodline & Biological Truth

Valkorion’s Blood

Itharion carries pure Sith lineage through Valkorion — not ideology, but metaphysical inheritance.

This manifests as:

• natural affinity for the Dark Side

• instinctive command presence

• emotional intensity without fracture

• resistance to Force degradation

Where most Force-sensitives must reach for the Dark Side, Itharion was born fluent in it.

The difference?

He was never hungry.

Valkorion’s corruption came from indulgence.

Itharion’s purification came from integration.

The blood was never the problem. The denial was.

V. What Darth Caelum Is Not

This is critical.

Darth Caelum is not:

 • a split personality

 • a possession

 • a fall

 • a mask hiding weakness

 • a corruption arc

He is not Vader. He is not Revan’s fracture. He is not a Sith Lord pretending restraint.

Darth Caelum is:

Itharion without moral anesthesia.

VI. The Philosophical Role of Caelum

If Itharion Skywalker-Shan is:

 • Balance

 • Stewardship

 • Harmony

 • The Force in dialogue

Then Darth Caelum is:

 • Judgment

 • Consequence

 • Finality

 • The Force in silence

Where Itharion asks:

“How do we save them?”

Caelum asks:

“Who cannot be allowed to continue?”

Where Itharion heals: Caelum ends.

Not in rage. Not in cruelty.

In necessity.

VII. Emotional Alchemy

Unlike Sith who feed on emotion, Caelum refines it.

This is why Caelum is immune to corruption.

He does not ride emotion.

He commands it.

VIII. Armor as Manifestation

Darth Caelum’s armor is not disguise.

It is permission.

Permission to:

 • be feared

 • be absolute

 • be final

The faceless helm signifies:

“You are not facing a man. You are facing a decision already made.”

The Umbral Nanite Colony responds not to rage, but to clarity of lethal intent.

Caelum is most dangerous when calm.

IX. Relationship to the Emberblade

The Heir’s Emberblade represents:

 • memory

 • brotherhood

 • return

 • restraint

Caelum does not wield it.

To do so would be to contaminate remembrance with finality.

That is why Noctis Rex exists.

X. Mythic Interpretation (How Others See Him)

Jedi Perspective

 • Some see Caelum as a warning.

 • Others see him as heresy.

 • A few understand the truth:

“This is what a Jedi would be if they stopped lying to themselves.”

Sith Perspective

 • Most reject him.

 • Some fear him.

 • A rare few kneel, instinctively.

Because Caelum proves:

The Dark Side does not belong to the Sith.

And that terrifies them.

The Force’s Perspective

The Force does not resist Caelum.

It does not correct him.

It listens.

XI. The Core Truth

Darth Caelum exists so that Itharion never has to pretend.

He is:

 • the boundary

 • the blade kept sheathed

 • the nightmare worn deliberately

 • the shadow that ensures the light never lies

He is not the path Itharion walks.

He is the cliff beside it.

XII. Final Inscription (Mortis Archive)

“The Son sought dominion and was consumed. The Daughter sought purity and was extinguished. But the One-in-the-Center learned to name his shadow — and thus remained.”

— The Father of Mortis

Darth Caelum’s Omens:

The Core Omen: The Stillness Before Endings

Name: The Quietus Field

What Happens

When Darth Caelum truly manifests — not merely present, but engaged — the following occurs automatically, without his intent:

 • Sound dampens

   • Blaster fire becomes muted

   • Explosions feel distant

   • Voices echo strangely or cut off

 • Motion slows perceptibly

   • Dust hangs too long in the air

   • Blood droplets fall in stretched arcs

   • Smoke curls unnaturally still

 • The Force goes quiet

   • Jedi feel absence, not pressure

   • Sith feel their rage lose heat

   • Force visions blur or end mid-sentence

It feels as if reality itself is holding its breath.

This is not intimidation.

This is the universe acknowledging that an ending has arrived.

The Secondary Omen: The Shadow Clock

Manifestation

Around Darth Caelum — only visible to Force-sensitives — faint, translucent rings appear:

 • Like a broken clock face

 • Symbols rotating slowly

 • Not counting time, but probability

Each rotation marks:

 • a life about to end

 • a fate collapsing into certainty

Force-users report:

“The future stops branching.”

Once the Shadow Clock appears, escape is no longer in the timeline.

The Personal Omen: The Gaze of Entropy

Effect

When Darth Caelum looks directly at someone marked by the Force:

 • They feel their own ending

 • Not fear — recognition

 • Memories surface unbidden

 • Regrets sharpen painfully

They understand, with terrible clarity:

“This is where my story closes.”

Many enemies:

 • drop their weapons

 • kneel

 • attack desperately — knowing it won’t matter

Environmental Signs (Subtle, Repeating Motifs)

 • Lights flicker but never fully fail

 • Ash or dust appears where none should exist

 • Metal creaks as if cooling after a fire

 • Living things go quiet (animals flee or freeze)

Later, survivors connect the pattern.

The Sound That Precedes Caelum

(Commonly called “The Last Note”)

What It Is

When Itharion enters that rare, absolute state — where restraint fractures and balance bends under emotional overload — the universe itself reacts.

Not because he commands it. Not because he intends it.

But because reality recognizes that correction is imminent.

The sound is not produced by him.

It is:

The Force exhaling before catastrophe.

How It Sounds

It is not a whistle in the literal sense.

Observers describe it as:

 • A single, elongated harmonic tone

 • High, thin, and distant at first — but impossibly present. Then It grows closer, heavier… Inevitable

 • Like a note stretched too long for lungs to sustain

 • Like glass humming before it shatters

 • Like wind moving through something that should not exist

It carries:

 • No rhythm

 • No source

 • No direction

You don’t hear it with your ears alone. You feel it in your teeth, bones, and chest cavity.

Force-sensitives experience it as:

 • A tightening of the Force

 • A sudden loss of background “noise”

 • Like the galaxy holding its breath

Non-sensitives feel:

 • Pressure in the sternum

 • A sudden chill

 • The instinct to stop moving or run for dear life

No one hears it twice the same way.

What Triggers It

This sound does not happen every time Caelum is angry.

It occurs only when three conditions align:

 1. His emotional state overwhelms his philosophical restraint

 • Not rage alone

 • But betrayal, irreversible loss, or deliberate atrocity

 2. A decision has already been made

 • Not “I might kill”

 • But “This ends now”

 3. Balance has been formally abandoned — temporarily

 • Not broken

 • Set aside

When those conditions meet:

The Force recognizes that mercy is no longer relevant.

And the sound manifests.

What the Sound Means

Ancient Force traditions describe it differently:

Jedi Interpretation (Forbidden Texts)

“The Force has begun closing a door.”

Sith Interpretation (Fragmented Holocrons)

“The universe is yielding.”

Zakuulan Records

“The Crown of Fire has turned its gaze.”

Mortis Doctrine

“The Son’s shadow has been acknowledged.”

All agree on one thing:

No one has ever heard the sound and survived its conclusion.

Not because the sound kills — but because the sound only occurs when survival is no longer possible.

What Happens After the Sound

Once the tone fades:

 • Blaster fire resumes too late

 • Force abilities feel sluggish or hollow

 • Shields fail at inopportune moments

 • Escape routes close coincidentally

 • Allies suddenly hesitate

Caelum does not move faster.

The universe moves slower around him.

What Caelum Thinks of It

He does not like that it happens.

Afterward, he often goes silent. Not triumphant. Not proud.

Because the sound means:

He crossed a line he promised himself he wouldn’t — even temporarily.

To him, the sound isn’t power.

It’s a warning:

“You are no longer correcting. You are ending.”

The Obsidian Dawn

Personal Command Vessel of Itharion, Mandalore The Sith Slayer

Era: Post-Knighting → Attack of the Clones
Length: ~190 meters
Class: Custom Heavy Assault Corvette / Force-Integrated Warship
Role: Solitary deep-space operations, anti-piracy crusades, Sith-hunting, system liberation, mobile sanctuary
Callsign among spacers: “The Ship That Doesn’t Broadcast”

ORIGINS — Forged in Solitude

After his knighting at sixteen, Itharion vanished from the known hyperspace lanes for two standard years. No council. No command. No witnesses.

What emerged from that exile was not a boy — and not just a warrior — but a craftsman of war.

The Obsidian Dawn began life as a derelict heavy corvette frame recovered from a forgotten Separatist-adjacent drydock near the Outer Rim fringe. It was never meant to be elegant. It was meant to survive.

Itharion stripped it to its skeleton and rebuilt it personally — with his hands, with stolen schematics, with Force-guided intuition — turning it into an extension of himself long before he ever commanded armies.

This was not a flagship. It was a pilgrimage vessel.

EXTERIOR — Visual Breakdown

Hull & Silhouette

 • Broad, flattened, predatory profile — low-slung like a war-beast stalking prey

 • Layered armored plating in matte obsidian-black durasteel, reinforced with Beskar lattice inserts at critical points

 • Subtle crimson light-lines embedded into panel seams — not decorative, but status indicators and threat-level markers

 • The ship reads as quietly hostile: no excess fins, no Republic polish, no Separatist flamboyance

Forward Weapon Prow

 • Twin reinforced forward prongs housing:

   • Heavy magnetic accelerator cannons

   • Quad-linked ion lances (custom-tuned to disable capital ships without total annihilation)

 • These prongs give the ship its “claws” — when it enters a system, it looks like something ready to strike

Dorsal Superstructure

 • Central armored dome housing:

   • Command nexus

   • Force-attuned navigation chamber

 • Offset sensor dish, heavily shielded and retractable — not for comm chatter, but for deep-range hyperspace anomaly reading

INTERNAL SYSTEMS — The Solitary Knight’s Arsenal

Propulsion & Stealth

 • Dual-phase hyperdrive (Class 0.75 equivalent — unheard of for a ship this armored)

 • Silent-running sublight engines with heat-diffusion baffling

 • Hull treated with sensor-scattering materials → the ship can disappear in asteroid fields or nebulae

Force-Integrated Navigation

This is where the ship becomes his.

 • A meditation chamber fused directly into the nav-core

 • Hyperspace routes are not just calculated — they are felt

 • During combat jumps, the Obsidian Dawn can execute:

   • Micro-jumps

   • Gravity-skimming exits

   • Near-impossible reversion points that normal nav computers would never allow

Clone officers later swear the ship anticipates danger.

They’re not wrong.

ARMAMENT — Built for One Man, Scaled for War

Despite being a “personal” vessel, the Obsidian Dawn is over-armed by Republic standards.

Primary Weapons

 • 2× Forward heavy mass-driver cannons

 • 6× Retractable turbolaser emplacements (low-profile, hull-flush)

 • 4× Ion disruptor arrays (anti-shield, anti-droid fleets)

Secondary Systems

 • Concussion missile bays (selective yield — Itharion does not waste lives)

 • EMP mines for pursuit denial

 • Tractor-beam projectors tuned for capture, not ramming

Forbidden Modification (Rumored)

A sealed, undocumented system buried deep in the keel:

A Force-resonant overcharge array that temporarily synchronizes the ship’s power grid with Itharion’s own Force signature.

Used only once in legend. Never officially recorded.

DEFENSE — The Ship That Refuses to Die

 • Layered deflector shields with adaptive harmonics

 • Armor thick enough to survive glancing turbolaser hits

 • Redundant life-support systems (designed for lone operation)

 • Internal compartments can be sealed independently — the ship can lose half its volume and keep fighting

To pirates, it became known as:

“The ship you hit… and then regret.”

SYMBOLISM — Shadow Before Dawn

The Obsidian Dawn is the ship-version of the Shadow Mantle.

 • It was born of isolation

 • Forged without witnesses

 • Built to endure hatred, silence, and necessity

Later, when Itharion unveils the Dawn Regalia publicly, many realize something chilling:

He learned how to be a savior after he learned how to be a weapon.

This ship remembers the first lesson.

LEGACY BY ATTACK OF THE CLONES

By the time the Clone Wars begin:

 • Slavers know its silhouette and flee

 • Sith cults go dark when it enters a system

 • Jedi whisper about “the knight who returns changed”

Chroma Protocol — Twin Aspects of the Obsidian Dawn

System Designation

LUX–UMBRA Adaptive Hull Matrix

Classification: Beskar-infused metamaterial hull coating
Function: Aspect-responsive visual & sensor-profile transformation
Activation Method: Neural authorization keyed to Itharion’s Force signature
Change Duration: ~11 seconds (full hull convergence)

Among the 595th, it’s called:

“When the ship chooses its face.”

DEFAULT STATE — Umbra Aspect (Shadow Mantle)

Current Appearance:

 • Matte obsidian-black hull

 • Crimson status lines and threat-indicators

 • Light-absorbing surface treatment

 • Predatory, silent, funereal

This is the ship as weapon.

DAWN ASPECT — Lux Form of the Obsidian Dawn

When Itharion dons the Dawn Regalia, the ship responds.

Transformation Sequence

 • Crimson lines dim… then vanish

 • Hull plating emits a low harmonic resonance

 • Micro-fractals of light ripple across the surface

 • The black obsidian finish recrystallizes from within

To observers, it looks like sunrise breaking across armor.

DAWN REGALIA PAINT — Auroral Dawn Livery

Primary Hull Color

Luminous Pearl-White Beskar

 • Not glossy, not matte — a satin iridescence

 • Reflects ambient light like dawn on polished stone

 • Appears soft at distance, blindingly radiant up close

Secondary Accents

Warm Gold Filigree Channels

 • Replace the crimson seams

 • Run along structural lines, wings, prow edges

 • Glow faintly when shields or engines are active

 • Etched with micro-symbols of liberation, vows, and navigational runes

Tertiary Highlights

Subtle Solar Amber Nodes

 • Engine vents, sensor rings, and weapon housings

 • Pulse gently during hyperspace entry

 • Never aggressive — reassuring, authoritative

SENSOR & PSYCHOLOGICAL EFFECTS

Visual Impact

 • The ship becomes impossible to mistake

 • Reads as:

   • Savior

   • Herald

   • Champion

 • Civilians do not flee

 • Blockades hesitate

 • Enemy officers second-guess their orders

Sensor Profile Shift

 • Hull reflectivity increases, but…

 • Sensor bloom is deliberately sculpted

 • The ship chooses to be seen

 • Broadcasts a controlled presence rather than hiding

Republic analysts later note:

“It doesn’t announce itself. It arrives.”

SYMBOLISM — The Same Hull, Two Truths

The galaxy eventually understands:

It is the same ship. It simply reflects the will inside it.

Final Mythic Touch

When the Dawn Aspect fully stabilizes, the ship’s name becomes visible along the prow in faint aureate script:

OBSIDIAN DAWN

Readable only in starlight.

Itharion’s Personal Starfighter

Designation

VX–Seraph Interceptor
Common Name (among pilots): “The Black Wing”
Era: Post-Knighting / Two Years of Solitude (Age 16–18)
Role: Precision strike, Force-linked interception, sovereign escort

Visual Identity — The Black Wing

The fighter looks less like a starship and more like a weapon mid-strike.

Hull & Frame

 • Needle-spear silhouette — elongated, predatory, aerodynamic even in vacuum

 • Forward fuselage tapers into a lethal point, evoking a lightsaber thrust frozen in metal

 • Wings are sharply swept and angular, almost dagger-like, designed to cut through space

Material Composition

 • Beskar-reinforced durasteel frame

 • Cortosis-laced internal bracing around the cockpit and reactor spine

 • Surface treated with light-absorbing matte obsidian coating, broken only by:

   • Thin crimson conduit lines

   • Engine glow reflections

   • Weapon heat bleed

The ship doesn’t shine. It drinks the stars.

Engine & Mobility — Unmatched Vector Control

Twin Vector-Thrust Engines

 • Mounted rearward with micro-articulated exhaust rings

 • Allow:

   • Instant lateral bursts

   • Mid-drift redirection

   • Near-impossible turn radii

Pilots watching it in combat swear it bends momentum rather than obeys it.

Force-Linked Flight Core

 • Itharion’s neural patterns are mapped into the control system

 • The ship responds before physical input finishes

 • Feels less piloted… more willed

During combat, it moves like:

“A thought given velocity.”

Cockpit — The Eye of the Storm

 • Single-seat, cocooned cockpit

 • Panoramic armored transparisteel canopy with crimson HUD overlays

 • Controls are minimalist — most functions handled via:

   • Neural interface

   • Subvocal command

   • Force-assisted intent recognition

There is no second seat. No need. This ship was never meant to carry anyone but him.

Armament — Precision Over Volume

Primary Cannons

 • Twin long-barrel laser lances mounted beneath the wings

 • High-velocity, armor-piercing bolts

 • Optimized for:

   • Surgical kills

   • Engine shearing

   • Capital ship subsystem strikes

Secondary Systems

 • Micro-missile launchers (limited payload, devastating yield)

 • Ion pulse emitters for disabling rather than destroying

 • Optional Cortosis-infused rounds for anti-Force-user engagements

Itharion doesn’t dogfight to dominate. He dogfights to end.

Defensive Systems — Survive the Impossible

 • Beskar-reinforced cockpit shell

 • Directional deflector shields (strongest forward)

 • Electronic warfare suite that:

   • Scrambles target locks

   • Projects false velocity readings

   • Masks hyperspace vector changes

Enemies often realize they’ve lost after they’re already dead.

Symbolism — The Single Wing

If the Obsidian Dawn is the crown, this fighter is the blade.

 • Where the personal ship inspires fear or hope…

 • This fighter delivers inevitability.

Among Separatists, it becomes known as:

“The Wing That Hunts Alone.”

Among clones:

“If his fighter launches, the battle is already over.”

✴️ THE 595TH DAWN LEGION — The Eternal Vanguard ✴️

“When the Dawn rises, shadows kneel.”

ORIGINS

The 595th Dawn Legion was not born from loyalty… it was born from calculation.

Officially, it was commissioned under Chancellor Palpatine’s direct request, designated as a specialized legion meant to operate alongside General Itharion Skywalker-Shan — the Dawn Knight, Mandalore The Sith Slayer — and living emblem of the Republic’s spiritual hope. Unofficially, it was a test.

The Chancellor wanted to see if even Itharion, with all his ideals and ancient lineage, could be contained.

Kamino’s scientists were given two orders:
 
1. Design clones capable of adapting to Itharion’s unorthodox command style — able to follow his hybrid strategies rooted in both Jedi discipline and Eternal Empire warfare.
 
2. Embed failsafes powerful enough to neutralize him if he ever turned against the Republic.

But there was more than practicality behind the project. There was symbolism.

Palpatine made sure their armor gleamed with Eternal gold and Shan silver, turning Itharion’s heritage into propaganda… a public reminder of his mythic bloodline, meant to tie him to an image of impossible legacy and dangerous expectation. A legion that looked like his destiny… and could be used to destroy him if he defied it.

And yet, the plan failed before it began.

Where the Kaminoans saw soldiers and the Chancellor saw insurance, Itharion saw brothers. Living Beings. He spoke to them. Named them. Trained beside them. And in doing so, he broke the leash that Palpatine had coiled around their souls.

When the war began, their loyalty was not to the Republic, not to the Chancellor… it was to him.

“He called us by name… and that was the day we stopped being weapons.”
— Commander Havoc

DESIGNATION

Official Designation: 595th Dawn Legion
Informal Title: The Eternal Vanguard
Commander: CC-5951 “Havoc”
General: Itharion Skywalker-Shan (Mandalore the Sith Slayer — the Dawn Knight)
Era: Clone Wars (Formally Commissioned pre-Battle of Christophsis)
Command Oversight: Supreme Chancellor Palpatine (nominal) / Itharion (de facto)

The 595th Dawn Legion existed at the intersection of symbolism and fear.

To the Republic, it was a gift: a demonstration of faith in Itharion's leadership, a personalized legion forged in his image. To the Chancellor, it was a contingency. A weapon built to watch the weapon.

Every deployment, every victory, was a reminder of Palpatine’s subtle dominance… that even the Dawn Knight’s army answered to the Republic’s Senate. Or so he believed.

Itharion knew the truth before the first mission. He felt the Chancellor’s gaze in the Force, cold and coiled, like a serpent around the throat of destiny. So he rewrote the narrative. Quietly. Relentlessly.

He erased their serial numbers and gave them names. He replaced their battle hymns with creeds of purpose.

By the time the 595th saw their first battle, their loyalty had already shifted. Their hearts no longer beat in rhythm with the Republic… they beat with him.

“We weren’t his soldiers. We were his reflection.”
— ARC-5959 “Kael”

VISUAL IDENTITY

The 595th Dawn Legion’s armor was a paradox made flesh: light and shadow in perfect convergence. Every trooper bore the look of a warrior forged not for war, but for judgment.

 • Base Armor: Forged in white-silver duraplast layered over a deep black undersuit — representing the unity of the Eternal Empire’s radiant order and the Republic’s shadowed pragmatism. 

 • Runic Etchings: Each plate engraved with Zakuulan glyphs of eternity, gold-lined and faintly luminescent when exposed to energy or sunlight… a direct visual echo of Itharion’s Eternal bloodline. 

 • Visors: Polarized azure blue, faintly glowing; a mirror of Itharion’s Light Side aura. In darkness, entire platoons appeared like lines of radiant eyes cutting through the void.

 • Trims and Markings: Shoulder pauldrons and vambraces detailed in midnight blue trimmed with gold, denoting unity under light and shadow. Commanders bore dual stripes — one gold, one white — the mark of “Dawn’s Chosen.” 

 • Cloaks (Ceremonial): Rarely worn in battle, but present during planetary arrivals or memorial rites: black with a single diagonal gold stripe, symbolizing the path between Light and Dark.

Insignia: A bifurcated sun — one half radiant gold, one half shadowed silver, encircling the Eternal crest. It represented not domination, but balance: a dawn that rose from both day and night.

When they marched, the ground reflected their light like sunrise on metal.  

When they fought, enemies whispered that gods had descended.

STRUCTURE

The 595th Dawn Legion is a hybrid force of roughly 12,400 soldiers, organized under a flexible command system designed for both planetary siege and precision strike warfare. It blends traditional Republic hierarchy with Itharion’s Eternal combat philosophy; efficiency, autonomy, and unity under purpose.

Where most legions are blunt instruments of war, the 595th is a blade honed for surgical devastation.

SUB-DIVISIONS

HAVOC SQUAD — 595th Dawn Legion – Special Operations Core

Designation: 595th–HS
Nickname: The Blade of the Dawn
Commander: CC-5951 “Havoc”
Unit Size: 12 Clone Commandos
Specialization: Deep infiltration, surgical strikes, counter-Force operations
Motto: “Strike as one. Fade as none.”

ORIGIN

Born from the earliest days of the 595th’s conception, Havoc Squad was the first operational unit trained directly under Itharion’s supervision. While Kamino produced commandos in silence and steel, Itharion demanded soul… a team that could think, adapt, and move like the Force itself: invisible yet unstoppable.

Handpicked from across the Republic Commando program, the twelve troopers that became Havoc Squad were those who questioned orders: not out of defiance, but insight. Itharion saw them not as disobedient, but awake.

Where most clones fought by doctrine, Havoc Squad fought by intuition. Where others relied on numbers, they relied on each other.

VISUAL DESIGN 

 • Armor Model: Modified Katarn-class commando armor (Eternal Tech Hybrid) 

 • Color Palette: Matte black plates base, white markings across shoulders, helmet, arms and forearms, gold-tinted visors 

 • Undersuit: Deep graphite black with lightweave cooling mesh 

 • Insignia: Twin sunburst and wing motif on right shoulder pad — symbol of “the Dawn that never falters.” 

 • Cape Tabs / Tactical Cloaks: Short, utility-weight cloaks that double as thermal camouflage screens 

 • Equipment Seals: Eternal Fleet-style gold tracer lines along vambraces (aesthetic nod to Itharion’s heritage)

“Their armor reflected light not as a warning, but as a challenge. To see them meant it was already too late.”

STANDARD LOADOUT

1. Primary: 

 • DC-17m Modular Rifle System (assault/sniper/anti-armor configurations) 

 • Custom cooling cells for sustained fire under high gravity or heat
 
2. Secondary: 

 • E-5s Scoped Blaster Carbine (Zakuulan mod variant) 

 • Quieter discharge, more stable at range
 
3. Melee: 

 • Vibro-combat knife with gold energy filament edge (Eternal Tech) 

 • “Silent kill” frequency field — can cut through most alloys
 
4. Sidearm: 

 • Westar-35 Compact Blaster (courtesy of Mandalorian design tweaks by Itharion himself)
 
5. Utility & Support:

 • Magnetic repulsor boots (for zero-G infiltration)

 • Grav-hook ascenders 

 • Holo-cam disruptors (light-bending tech for brief invisibility)

 • Med injector gauntlets (auto-stim and bacta microdose system)
 
6. Helmet Suite: 

 • Multi-band sensor array with tactical overlay

 • Real-time squad telemetry sharing (linked through Itharion’s AI, S.E.R.P.E.N.T.)

 • Optical camouflage field (15-second duration, cooldown dependent on power reserves)

TRAINING & TACTICAL PROFILE

Havoc Squad operates under three doctrines, all crafted by Itharion:

1. “Silent Dawn” – Infiltration Doctrine

 • Purpose: Neutralize or disable targets before engagement begins.

 • Emphasis: Stealth entry, sabotage, coordinated precision.

 • Typical Use: Destroying droid command nodes or crippling planetary defenses.

“If the enemy hears us, they’ve already lost half their army.”

2. “Burning Horizon” – Shock Doctrine

 • Purpose: Disorient and crush high-value positions through surprise aggression.

 • Emphasis: Speed, adaptability, sensory disruption (flash/ion mix).

 • Typical Use: Boarding actions, city sieges, crisis extractions.

“Twelve troopers. One heartbeat.”

3. “Echo Veil” – Counter-Force Doctrine

 • Purpose: Combat or contain Force users (trained under Itharion himself).

 • Emphasis: Predictive coordination, sound frequency traps, cortosis dust grenades, anti-grip techniques.

 • Typical Use: Sith assassins, Inquisitors, or rogue Jedi encounters.

“The Force can’t see what doesn’t wish to be seen.”

COMMANDER HAVOC — CC-5951 “Havoc”

 • Height: 1.85m

 • Rank: Clone Commander

 • Personality: Analytical, dry-witted, unshakably loyal to Itharion but skeptical of the Jedi Council.

 • Weapon: Z-6 rotatory blaster cannon

 • Combat Specialty: Mid-range precision and command synchronization — the mental “anchor” for the squad’s cohesion.

 • Notable Trait: Calm under fire to the point of unnerving even Jedi Generals. His voice rarely rises, even in the middle of chaos.

“He doesn’t command with volume. He commands because you can feel that he’s already thought ten moves ahead.”
— DG-01 “Sol”

Havoc shares a uniquely respectful rivalry with Itharion: a silent test between soldier and knight, logic and instinct. Itharion trusts Havoc with more operational freedom than any clone in the Republic army.

If Itharion is the Dawn’s Will, Havoc is its Judgment.

INDIVIDUAL MEMBERS

RELATIONSHIP WITH ITHARION

Itharion treats Havoc Squad not as subordinates but as extensions of his will… and in turn, they’ve come to view him as something between a commanding officer and a mentor.

He taught them adaptability, empathy, and restraint… traits that made them more dangerous than any programmed soldier.

“We’re not his soldiers. We’re his reflection.” 
— Commander Havoc

Where most Jedi saw clones as instruments of war, Itharion saw potential for sentience through purpose. Havoc Squad repaid that with unflinching loyalty… not because of the chip in their skulls, but because he earned it.

THE ECHELON COMPANIES — 595th Dawn Legion — Main Force Divisions

Unit Count: ~10,000 troopers total (2,000 per company)

Unified Insignia: Dual-stripe sigil of Dawn’s Unity on right pauldron

Command Hierarchy:

 • Overseen by Commander Havoc (CC-5951)

 • Each Echelon commanded by a Captain and four Lieutenants, chosen directly by Itharion for their independence and moral compass

 • Each Echelon carries its own crest, motto, and war hymn sung in unison before deployment

“The Echelons are not five companies. They are five tempests of one storm.”
— Admiral Thrawn, On the Art of the Dawn Legion

ECHELON ALPHA — The Iron Vanguard

Specialization: Tactical Infantry / Urban Assault / Planetary Sieges
Designation: 595th–EA
Crest: A golden phoenix bursting through a shattered fortress wall
Hymn: “The streets shall burn with the sun’s rise.”
Commander: Captain Korran “Vault”

Tactical Profile:

The hammer of the 595th. Alpha Echelon leads ground assaults, excels in urban pacification, and holds defensive choke points longer than any unit in the GAR.

They fight in cohesive fire columns, moving like waves, each trooper trained to compensate for the next man’s weaknesses.

Weapons:

 • DC-15A Blaster Rifles (Eternal precision mods) 

 • Z-6 rotary cannons for suppressive fire

 • Heavy riot shields with dual-layer plasma mesh

 • Breach drones (miniaturized demolition spheres)

Armor Notes:

 • Reinforced shoulder plating

 • Compact kinetic dampeners in chest armor

 • Orange-gold tactical stripes along helmets for quick IFF

“When Alpha moves, the world tilts toward them.”
— Itharion Skywalker-Shan

ECHELON BETA — The Gilded Engines

Specialization: Armored Division / Mechanized Warfare
Designation: 595th–EB
Crest: Twin golden gears encircling a burning sun
Hymn: “The ground obeys our tread.”
Commander: Captain Laro “Torque” Vehl

Tactical Profile:

Beta brings Zakuul-inspired engineering to Republic warfare — thunderous and unstoppable. Their TX-130s and HAVw A6 Juggernauts are augmented with plasma-conductive plating, Eternal energy shields, and AI-assisted gunnery systems. 

Beta’s Juggernauts bear radiant sigil banners along their hulls — a ceremonial design Itharion insisted upon, echoing the Eternal Fleet’s golden aesthetic.

Armor Units:

 • 40 HAVw A6 Juggernauts

 • 90 TX-130 Saber-class tanks

 • 120 Zakuul-modified “Solar Walker” units (bipedal artillery mechs with shoulder-mounted turbolasers)

Doctrine:

 • Siegebreaker Formations: Coordinated armor phalanx with overlapping shield domes

 • Solar Line: Reflective energy barriers that scatter blaster bolts back toward enemies

“Where Beta walks, hope follows.” 
 — Commander Havoc

ECHELON GAMMA — The Skyborn Blades

Specialization: Airborne Corps / Jet Troopers / Atmospheric Strike
Designation: 595th–EG
Crest: Twin wings crossing a rising sun
Hymn: “From light we fall, to light we rise.”
Commander: Captain “Vexen” Hark

Tactical Profile:

The wings of the 595th. Gamma’s jet troopers and drop-commandos deploy from orbit or low atmosphere in synchronized fire descent patterns known as “Sunfall Maneuvers.”

Gamma troopers wear refined Zakuulan jump packs with grav-thrusters, allowing for bursts of controlled flight rather than mere jumps.

Their strike patterns rely on synchronized microbursts of ion detonations — blinding the enemy seconds before impact.

Weapons:

 • DC-15S carbines with wrist-mounted grappling launchers

 • Plasma cutting sabers (shorter, single-blade melee tools)

 • Micro-grenades with flash/EMP mix

Armor Features:

 • Lightweight Eternal alloys

 • Aerodynamic winged pauldrons (ceremonial yet functional)

 • Blue-gold streaks across visors for visibility in formation

“Gamma doesn’t drop. They descend with purpose.”  
— Admiral Thrawn, On the Art of the Dawn Legion

ECHELON DELTA — The Solar Seraphs

Specialization: Starfighter Corps / Orbital & Space Superiority
Designation: 595th–ED
Crest: A golden blade piercing a crescent star
Hymn: “We cut the void, and dawn follows.”
Commander: Wing Leader “Halo” Deran

Tactical Profile:

Delta Echelon serves as the 595th’s celestial edge, piloting modified ARC-170s, V-Wings, and Zakuul-inspired interceptors — each with radiant-gold afterburn trails that mark their presence like comets of the Dawn.

Every pilot is hand-selected from across the Republic Navy and retrained under Itharion’s doctrine: No battle begins without vision, and no vision ends without clarity.

Delta squadrons employ formation weaving, a complex aerial maneuver that synchronizes engines, targeting, and shields across an entire unit — effectively forming one vast energy matrix.

Notable Craft:

 • ARC-170 “Aurelius”

 • V-Wing “Dawnfire”

 • Zakuul Interceptor “Solar Fang”

Starfighter Colors:

 • Silver-white hulls, gold trim, blue thruster glow

 • Canopy interiors bear etched Zakuulan scripture of loyalty and rebirth

“They write the sunrise in the stars.”  
— Itharion Skywalker-Shan

ECHELON SIGMA — The Silent Sun

Specialization: Reconnaissance / Intelligence Recovery / Shadow Ops
Designation: 595th–ES
Crest: A black sun with a single golden eye
Hymn: “The dawn sees all.”
Commander: Captain Rynn “Shade” Marek

Tactical Profile:

Sigma operates in the blind spots of war. The unseen hand. They are the counter-snipers, saboteurs, and covert hunters of the 595th. Their missions range from long-range recon to black-ops extractions under complete communications silence.

Every member of Sigma undergoes partial Force attunement drills under Itharion’s supervision — not to wield the Force, but to feel its disturbances.

Gear:

 • Disruptor rifles with muffled energy coils

 • Adaptive camo cloaks (Eternal tech refractor weave)

 • Wrist-mounted vibroblades

 • Stealth field generators with 30-second invisibility capacity

 • Pulse-tracker visors capable of reading movement through walls

Armor:

 • Matte black, silver trim, low-reflective surface

 • Gold etchings along gauntlets symbolizing “light through the unseen”

“Sigma doesn’t hunt shadows. They are the shadows.”  
— Commander Havoc

UNITY DOCTRINE — “The Dawn’s Breath”

Every Echelon fights under one shared philosophy — The Dawn’s Breath — a creed instilled by Itharion himself:

“The Dawn is not one light but many. When one Echelon falls, another rises. When one brother bleeds, the sun still shines. We are unity in motion. We are the Dawn’s Breath.”

This creed is recited before every campaign, echoing through the comms of the entire 595th fleet as their ships rise from hyperspace.

THE DAWN GUARD

Designation: Project Dawn
Number: Twelve Force-Sensitive Clones
Affiliation: 595th Legion (Special Detachment under Itharion Skywalker-Shan)
Callsign Prefix: “DG-” followed by a numeral (DG-01 to DG-12)
Type: Force-Augmented Commando Cell
Commanding Officer: Master Itharion Skywalker-Shan
Creation Origin: Kaminoan Subprogram — Adaptive Neuromodulation Trials
True Purpose: Terminate Itharion Skywalker-Shan if he turned on the Chancellor
Present Purpose: Defend Itharion Skywalker-Shan at all costs

ORIGIN AND REBIRTH

The Dawn Guard were created under a direct, undisclosed order from Chancellor Palpatine. Officially, they were part of an advanced neurological conditioning program to produce “adaptive command units.” Unofficially, they were a failsafe — Force-sensitive clones engineered to observe and, if necessary, eliminate Itharion should he ever turn against the Republic.

Assigned as his permanent escort, they shadowed him across campaigns, their presence disguised as elite security detail.

But proximity changed everything.

Itharion saw what they were… not tools, not extensions of control, but living beings with a pulse in the Force. He trained them himself, not as weapons, but as warriors: teaching them restraint, focus, and balance. He taught them that strength meant choice… and that control came from will, not obedience. And for the first time, they were given names.

Their oath was once to end him. Now, it is to stand beside him.

VISUAL DESIGN

 • Armor Base: Matte black Phase II clone commando armor.

 • Trim: Gold etching across vambraces and shoulder plates — the mark of freedom, gifted by Itharion.

 • Sash: Deep cobalt-blue, worn diagonally or at the waist.

 • Visors: Burnished bronze, faintly glowing when they channel the Force.

 • Emblem: A rising sun crest carved into the chestplate — symbolizing rebirth and self-will.

 • Cloaks (optional, ceremonial): Half-length, black exterior / midnight blue interior.

“Their armor bore no Republic insignia — only the dawn they forged for themselves.”

ARMAMENT & EQUIPMENT

Each member carries a personalized variant of the Dawn Pike, a weapon inspired by both Jedi Temple Guards and Zakuulan Knights.

Dawn Pike

 • Design: Double-ended lightsaber pike (1.6 meters)

 • Emitter Color: Pale amber or icy blue (unique per trooper)

 • Core Function: Dual-phase focusing crystal for switchable blade length

 • Secondary Mode: Blade can collapse into a short saberstaff for close-quarters combat 

 • Built-in function: Magnetic grip coils for combat under zero-G and heavy gravity

Aegis Shield

 • Design: Compact forearm-mounted kinetic-energy shield (Zakuul-inspired)

 • Function: Can repel blaster fire and lightsabers for brief durations (Force-enhanced field sustain)

 • Augment: Force channeling amplifies resistance — the stronger their focus, the stronger the barrier

Sidearm

 • Type: DC-17 Hand Blaster (customized, silver-plated, under-barrel vibroblade)

 • Usage: Only when stealth or restraint fails — they prefer blade over bolt.

FORCE DISCIPLINES (TRAINED UNDER ITHARION)

1. Tutaminis (Force Absorption): Can absorb and redirect limited energy (blaster fire, lightning, saber strikes) Requires meditative focus — often performed in group resonance.

2. Force Speed & Flow Motion: Enhanced reflexes and acrobatics. Signature “flow-step” movement — fast yet fluid, as if gliding through space.

3. Kinetic Precision (Telekinesis): Used for redirection, not destruction. Deflect grenades, disarm foes, or halt bolts mid-air for coordinated counterstrikes.

4. Force Resonance (Group Discipline): When standing within 10 meters of Itharion, their combined presence amplifies his Force signature. Allows for linked precognition — the Guard often moves as if reading his intent before he acts.

STRUCTURE & CALLSIGNS

Each one is a reflection of Itharion’s teachings — not soldiers bound by command, but warriors guided by belief.

DOCTRINE & CREED

“We were born to end him. We chose to stand beside him. The Dawn is not his light alone — it is the light we forged together.”

They function like Force Paladins — not Jedi, not clones, but something new. Where the Jedi seek peace and the clones seek victory, the Dawn Guard seeks harmony between the two.

In battle, they move in silence — the hum of twelve synchronized pikes echoing like a temple choir across the field. Their enemies often describe their approach as “the calm before a storm that never ends.”

SYMBOLISM AND THEMATIC ROLE

 • The Dawn Guard embodies Itharion’s defiance of destiny. Born as weapons of control, they become the living testament to his belief in free will.

 • They are the intersection of Force and brotherhood, a living extension of Itharion’s morality — the Force as a choice, not a gift.

 • They contrast the dark armor of Sith troops — their gold etchings and blue sashes symbolize light refracted through shadow.

595th DAWN LEGION DOCTRINE & ETHOS

The 595th has no rigid doctrine. They fight as one mind, but with individual hearts.

“We don’t follow orders — we follow him.”
— Commander Havoc

Their combat philosophy mirrors Itharion’s code:

“Through strength, we protect. Through balance, we endure.”

They are known for adaptability, empathy, and conscience — traits that make them feared and respected across the front. While other units march to programmed obedience, the 595th discusses tactics, weighs morality, and moves with shared conviction.

Itharion refers to each trooper by name or military titles, not designation. He knows their stories. He trains with them. He bleeds with them. That bond makes them unbreakable.

Their loyalty is not to the Senate, not even to the Republic — but to the man who made them feel human.

COMBAT DOCTRINE

 • Tactical Style: Coordinated precision warfare blending Force-enhanced strategy, orbital drop strikes, and combined arms maneuvers.

 • Signature Formation: “The Rising Pattern” — a three-pronged formation shaped like the Dawn Sigil, symbolizing balance between flanking shadow and central light.

 • Battlefield Presence: Their arrival is heralded by gold-and-blue light pulses from their ships’ undersides — both a signal and a statement.

 • Psychological Warfare: Their discipline and unity make them feel mythic to enemy forces — “the Legion that doesn’t break.”

THE ETERNAL VANGUARD’S FLEET

Designation: Task Force Sol Invictus
Commanding Officer: General Itharion Skywalker-Shan
Fleet Motto: “Where light commands, darkness kneels.”
Fleet Composition:
• 1 Dreadnought Flagship • 5 Capital Ships • 2 Battle Carriers • 9 Escort Frigates • 20 Support Craft

“It does not simply arrive — it descends. The Vanguard’s fleet moves like dawn itself: silent, blinding, and absolute.”
— Admiral Thrawn

FLAGSHIP — Eternal Wrath (Legacy-Class Star Dreadnought)

Classification: Legacy-Class Star Destroyer
Length: 4,800 meters
Crew Complement: 72,000
Fighter Capacity: 300 craft
Role: Command, Orbital Siege, Force Projection
Insignia: A golden sun bisected by a crimson blade — the sigil of Itharion’s personal command

Description:

The Eternal Wrath stands as the apex of Zakuul-Imperial fusion — a cathedral of war and light. Her hull is polished obsidian-silver, carved with Eternal runic veins that pulse faintly gold when shields activate. Beneath the command tower runs a luminescent dorsal spine, channeling energy from the core reactor directly into the ship’s hyperwave cannons — giving the illusion of a sun’s heartbeat.

Her bridge is lined with meditative alcoves, where senior officers chant the Creed of Dawn before battle — a hybrid between military ritual and spiritual focus, designed by Itharion himself.

Armament:

 • 16 heavy turbolaser batteries

 • 12 proton torpedo banks

 • 4 axial hyperwave cannons (Eternal-tech, siege-tier)

 • 3 ion-disruptor superarrays

 • 1 planetary-disruption spine cannon (bow-mounted)

Escort Complement:

 • Eternal Resolve (Tector-class)

 • Solar Reign (Tector-class)

 • Radiant Oath (Venator-Class)

 • Tempest Crown (Eternal-Tector hybrid)

“She does not fly. She ascends.”
— Commander Havoc

ETERNAL RESOLVE

Classification: Tector-Class Star Destroyer
Role: Defensive Vanguard
Length: 1,600 meters
Commander: Captain Selene Varra

Profile:

The fleet’s immovable bastion. The Resolve anchors every battle formation, channeling defensive energy grids that can deflect orbital barrages. Its plating carries shimmering gold veins that brighten when shields reach full output — a visible declaration that the ship still stands.

Signature Tactic: “Solar Wall” formation — the Resolve generates an overlapping barrier field that protects the flagship’s ventral axis during descent maneuvers.

Armament:

 • 10 dual heavy turbolasers

 • 4 broadside ion batteries

 • Dual redundant shield reactors (90% power overlap)

Doctrine:

 • Anchor formation around flagship

 • Absorb and redirect energy bursts using reflective shielding arrays

“When the fleet burns, the Resolve does not flicker.”  
— Itharion Skywalker-Shan

SOLAR REIGN

Classification: Tector-Class Star Destroyer
Role: Shock Assault / Breach Warfare
Length: 1,600 meters
Commander: Captain Doran Krynn

Profile:

Where Resolve endures, Solar Reign conquers. Equipped with rapid-cycling plasma lances and kinetic harpoons, Solar Reign is designed for breach warfare — driving through enemy lines and disabling key ships for capture or destruction.

Distinctive Features:

 • Gold-plated ventral fins forming a radiant “sunburst” silhouette

 • Bridge lit in eternal gold; every console hue-shifted to solar tones

“The Solar Reign leads charges the way thunder follows lightning.”  
— Captain Krynn

RADIANT OATH

Classification: Venator-Class Star Destroyer (Zakuul refit)
Role: Carrier / Assault Cruiser
Length: 1,137 meters
Commander: Commodore Juno Varrin

Profile:

The Radiant Oath is the fleet’s carrier soul, bearing thousands of strike craft — Delta Echelon’s pilots call her “Mother Dawn.”

The refit replaces traditional Venator hangar doors with Eternal-style retractable wings, turning the ship into a gleaming silhouette when her bays open for full deployment.

Fighter complement:

 • 72 ARC-170s

 • 90 V-Wings

 • 60 Zakuul “Solar Fang” interceptors

 • 12 gunships

“If the Eternal Wrath is the heart, the Oath is the breath.”  
— Admiral Thrawn

TEMPEST CROWN

Classification: Eternal–Tector Hybrid Dreadnought
Role: Siege and Tactical Oversight
Length: 2,100 meters
Commander: Admiral Nerys Halcor

Profile:

The Tempest Crown is the Eternal Wrath’s right hand — a living weapon of prophecy and fire.
Its central AI, S.E.R.P.E.N.T., synchronizes with Itharion’s own neural signature, predicting enemy fleet movements based on Force fluctuations. Its golden dorsal spines act as both sensor arrays and ceremonial banners of light.

“She sees what others can’t. She moves when others won’t.”
— Itharion Skywalker-Shan

DAWN’S ASCENT

Classification: Tector-Class Command Destroyer
Role: Flank Control / Orbital Reinforcement
Length: 1,600 meters
Commander: Captain Ralo Merec

Profile:

The Dawn’s Ascent embodies Itharion’s philosophy of restraint through control — a ship designed not to destroy, but to dominate the space it occupies. It uses gravitational well projectors and hybrid tractor beams, pinning enemy craft in place before precision barrages. Its emblem, a single golden feather falling through light, represents the calm before annihilation.

SUPPORT ELEMENTS — The Dawn’s Chorus

Composition:

 • 9 Escort Frigates (Arquitens-II, Vigil-class, and custom Zakuul corvettes)

 • 20 Support craft (medical, supply, and signal frigates)

 • Each named after virtues of the Dawn Creed: Hope, Unity, Mercy, Vigil, Valor, Faith, Radiance, Zeal, Serenity.

Doctrine:

Escort frigates deploy in synchronized orbits around capital ships, forming solar constellations — formations named after constellations from both Coruscant and Zakuul star charts.

Each formation bears a poetic title: The Horizon Line, The Morning Star Array, The Sun’s Breath.

FLEET DOCTRINE

Strategic Principle: Order in Motion

 • Every vessel acts as a part of a living constellation.

 • Formations are called Solar Arrays, designed to appear like radiant sigils when viewed from orbit.

 • Each engagement begins in silence; the fleet powers weapons but holds fire until Itharion’s signal — a golden flare across every ship’s dorsal light veins.

Philosophy:

“We do not chase victory. We allow it to meet us in motion.”  
— Itharion Skywalker-Shan

ADMIRAL THRAWN

Full Name: Mitth’raw’nuruodo
Rank: Admiral of the Republic Navy (Commanding Officer of The Eternal Wrath and the 595th Fleet)
Species: Chiss
Affiliation: Galactic Republic (nominally), Chiss Ascendancy (culturally), Itharion Skywalker-Shan (personally)
Flagship: The Eternal Wrath (Legacy-Class Star Destroyer, heavily modified)
Fleet Composition: 6 vessels — 3 Tector-Class, 1 Venator Class, 1 Tector-Eternal Hybrid Dreadnought, 1 Legacy-Class Destroyers

Character Redefinition: “Thrawn — The Philosopher Admiral”

This Thrawn iteration retains the traits that make him iconic — intellect, composure, art obsession, and clinical precision — but adds a deeper humanistic layer born from exposure to Itharion and the Jedi Order.

Appearance & Manner

 • Uniform: White admiral’s tunic with gold-trimmed pauldrons (a hybrid between Republic and Chiss design).

 • Eyes: Crimson, but softened by calm intelligence — not predatory.

 • Hair: Jet black, immaculately groomed.

 • Bearing: His posture speaks of sculpture; every movement is deliberate, graceful.

 • Voice: Low and resonant, almost poetic in cadence — words measured like brushstrokes.

Signature Behavior:

 • Studies art before battles.

 • Analyzes enemy formations as if they were brush patterns.

 • Prefers “symmetry” in strategy — order within chaos.

 • Never raises his voice; silence is his weapon.

Psychological Blueprint

 • Primary Virtue: Composure

 • Secondary Virtue: Vision

 • Greatest Weakness: Underestimation of emotional irrationality (he understands emotion, but not chaos born of love or rage).

 • View of Itharion: “A contradiction of order and passion. A warrior who conquers with compassion — a paradox the galaxy has not earned, yet desperately needs.”
 
Relationship Dynamic: