Chapter 7: The Vault Below
Kade Sorn - 28 years old.
The old passage sealed behind them with a hiss of stone and metal, the sound swallowed by the damp hush of the corridor. Your eyes adjusted quickly to the dim glow—faint light strips buried in the walls still pulsed with life, drawing energy from some ancient, dormant system deep beneath Coruscant. You, Lera, and Marbs moved cautiously forward.
You had seen fragments of places like this in vision-dreams, half-memories passed through the Force. You had always thought them metaphor, symbols of deeper truths. But this place was real. Hidden.
Buried.
Marbs hovered low, the lens of his photoreceptor rotating slowly. "Energy readings stable. Architecture matches Old Republic archives—pre-Ruusan Reformation. This place predates the current Jedi Temple by centuries. Possibly High Republic."
You ran your palm along the wall. Cool to the touch, yet you could feel it humming—no, breathing. The Force here wasn't just present. It was woven into the stone itself.
Lera walked beside you, small fingers brushing your sleeve. "It feels... thick."
"Yes," you said, softly. "It's called a vergence. A place where the Force pools. Not light. Not dark. Just... power. Pure."
She didn't speak again, but she understood. The girl was still young, but she was learning how to listen—to the world, and to herself.
The corridor opened into a wide chamber, half-collapsed on one side. The other wall bore an ancient relief: Jedi figures etched in flowing robes, not wielding lightsabers, but standing in postures of meditation, or channeling energy through their hands. No helmets. No armor. Just presence.
At the center of the chamber stood a stone pedestal, atop which rested a small, metallic object—a geometric cube, humming faintly with blue light. Not a holocron. Not quite.
Marbs beeped. "Uncatalogued artifact. Design is similar to Sith and Jedi data vaults, but doesn't match known structures. Possibly a prototype. Recommend caution."
You nodded, but your hand was already moving. As you touched it, a shimmer of power bloomed out, like a pulse in the ocean. The chamber dimmed.
For a heartbeat, you saw flickers. Not visions. Echoes.
A Jedi kneeling. Blood on his hands. A child hidden in stone. A shadow crawling beneath the planet's crust. A vault sealed not to protect the relic... but to contain something else.
You exhaled slowly, grounding yourself. Lera gripped your arm, her breathing sharp. Then, as if something inside her snapped, a sudden wave of raw Force burst outward from her like a scream.
It was untrained. Reflexive. A panic surge.
The stones shook. Dust fell from the ceiling.
And without hesitation, you stepped forward and dropped into stance—not a fighting posture, but a breathing form. The martial flow you had refined over years, born not of combat but of control. One hand lifted. The other opened.
The Force surged from you—not violently, but with dense, quiet gravity. A field of calm. Like placing warm cloth over fire. Lera's wave hit it, slowed, then vanished.
To any Force-sensitive nearby, the flare would've been felt for only a breath before vanishing like a stone in deep water.
You weren't just strong. You were precise.
Lera gasped and stumbled. You caught her gently.
"Easy."
She blinked up at you, wide-eyed. "What was that?"
You met her gaze. "A lesson. You feel the Force. That's good. But it must not control you. It's a sea. You don't let the waves carry you. You become the tide."
Lera nodded slowly, still shaken but listening.
Marbs rolled beside you, his tone cautious. "That energy burst registered on long-range Jedi monitoring networks. Location was dampened... but not fully hidden. Probability of Jedi probe deployment: sixty-two percent."
You cursed under your breath.
You had remained undetected for years. But Lera's growth, her potential, was growing harder to mask. And even now, your own aura had begun to ripple farther than you liked.
Still... you didn't regret it.
You looked at Lera again. Her presence still shimmered faintly, and so—just to be sure—you lowered your center, exhaled through your core, and sent out a second wave.
Not a command.
A whisper.
A practiced silence. Your aura didn't press, it erased pressure. Like mist swallowing a torch.
Lera's presence vanished beneath your own.
She blinked again, startled. "It's gone."
"It's not gone," you said. "It's simply asleep."
You placed your hand again on the strange cube. It was inert now. Waiting. But in that moment of contact, it had recognized you.
A vergence was not a coincidence. The Force had guided you here. This place wasn't just old.
It was meant to be found.
Chapter 7: The Vault Below — Part 2
Marbs' internal gyros clicked softly as he pivoted toward the far wall. "Residual energy readings increasing. Something is activating deeper within the vault."
You turned from the cube and felt it too—a pulse, faint but steady, like a heartbeat stirring from slumber. The vergence wasn't simply responding to your presence. It was aware.
Lera stayed close now, quiet and watchful. Her earlier surge of power had shaken her, but not broken her. You sensed a new humility forming—not fear, but respect.
You moved cautiously past the pedestal, into the shadows cast by collapsed pillars and crumbling stone. A crack along the far edge of the chamber pulsed faintly with blue light, leading downward.
"There's more," you murmured.
Without hesitation, you descended into the narrow gap. The stone floor sloped steeply into a hidden stairway, partially intact and carved with runes older than Basic. The Force thickened with each step.
At the bottom, the stair opened into a cylindrical room. And at its center floated a hollow sphere of light and metal—a construct of rotating rings, inscribed with Jedi, Sith, and symbols even older. The energy that radiated from it was not aligned to light or dark. It was raw. Balanced.
Equilibrium incarnate.
"A true vergence core," you said under your breath.
You approached cautiously, motioning Marbs to scan.
"No record of this architecture," Marbs reported. "Structure is a containment vault. Its primary function... appears to be not to protect, but to restrain."
"Restrain what?" Lera asked, her voice trembling.
Marbs paused. "Unknown. But pressure readings suggest something was once sealed within—something powerful. And not entirely gone."
You stepped toward the core and extended your senses—not to invade, but to listen.
Whispers.
Pain. Purpose. Ancient war.
You felt something below the vault. Faint tremors echoed in the Force, like a storm circling beneath your feet. A slumbering predator... or a memory that refused to die.
Then it clicked.
You remembered the creature from before—the mutated Terentatek. Drawn to you. Hiding from the Force just as you could. And now, you understood. That beast wasn't just a rogue mutation.
It had come from here.
Or been imprisoned here… once.
You turned sharply toward Marbs. "Run a historical overlay. Cross-reference the genetic structure of that creature with anything in vault records."
Marbs beeped, processing rapidly. "Confirmed. Matching markers. The mutated Terentatek is a direct descendant of the species sealed here. This vault was designed to trap an ancient apex variant—likely Force-immune."
So that was it. Not merely a beast—but a failed experiment? Or a survivor of some forgotten Jedi war?
You reached out to the central sphere. As your hand neared it, the inner rings slowed, then halted. Lines of energy extended from them, etching patterns in the air.
The Force surged into your mind like a tide—memories not your own:
> Jedi Masters in white robes. A creature dragging half a temple behind it.
Vault doors slamming shut. The planet shuddering.
And one phrase, burned into your thoughts:
"What cannot be cleansed must be hidden."
The rings snapped back into motion, spinning silently.
You withdrew your hand.
Then—Marbs beeped sharply. "Intrusion detected. Probe droid descending into outer chamber. No direct sighting yet, but Jedi reconnaissance has arrived."
You exhaled, centered yourself. "How long until they find this level?"
"Ten minutes, perhaps less."
Lera looked at you, eyes wide. "Are we running?"
"No," you said. "We leave no trail. We go deeper."
You activated the outer layer of your aura—concealment through stillness. Not invisibility, but misdirection. The Force didn't see you if you moved like part of its rhythm. The vergence assisted—it wanted you hidden.
Marbs sealed the door behind you with a silent pulse of his modified scomp link.
You guided Lera through a narrow arch into an alcove chamber. Unlike the previous halls, this one was lined with ancient mural carvings—showing Force users engaging in unarmed combat. Stylized strikes. Redirects. Pressure point controls.
The figures flowed like dancers—every movement enhanced by invisible ripples. No sabers. No weapons.
And yet… the energy was potent.
You knew this style.
Not because you'd studied it. But because the Force had taught you its bones—its rhythm. Your own fighting style, long refined through intuition, had roots here.
This was a forgotten martial art.
Force-guided combat, reliant not on destruction, but intent.
Lera reached for the wall. "They're… like you."
You nodded. "Or I'm like them."
Your voice lowered. "This is why the Jedi stopped using their bodies. They built sabers. They made temples. But before that... they listened."
You stepped forward and mirrored one of the poses. The Force responded—not with power, but with resonance. As if the vault itself remembered.
You lowered into a breathing stance. Not as a demonstration—but as an offering.
Lera followed.
You guided her hand gently, repositioning her feet. "Balance isn't about standing still. It's about remembering where you are… even while you move."
And slowly, without words, the two of you flowed together—form to form, step to step. The vault did not resist. It welcomed.
Outside, the Jedi probe scanned an empty room. It pinged once—confused.
Then it turned… and left.
You had become part of the vergence.
Invisible in the tide.
Chapter 7: The Vault Below — Part 3
The chamber quieted again, leaving only the soft echo of movement, breath, and the gentle whisper of the Force pressing against old stone.
Your stance shifted, one hand extended with palm open, the other drawn back like a coiled wave. Lera followed your motion closely, mimicking the poise. There was something natural about her balance—untrained, yes, but attuned. As if her body remembered a language it hadn't been taught.
You guided her through another rotation. "This isn't about strength," you said softly. "It's about awareness. You feel the strike before it comes. You move with intention, not instinct."
Lera's brow furrowed, her arm quivering in the posture.
You touched her shoulder gently. "Breathe from here," you said, placing your hand just below her ribs. "Let the Force move through you. Not like a river dragging you. Like air inside lungs you own."
She adjusted—and the tremble stopped. Her stance solidified.
She listened.
And the Force answered.
Around you, the vergence pulsed softly. Not in power, but in approval.
Marbs observed from the edge of the room, recording. "Impressive. That stabilization was not neurological—it was energetic. The child is responding to vergence feedback."
You looked up. "She's doing more than responding."
Lera stepped into the next movement. Her form wasn't perfect—but the air around her shifted. It bowed slightly. Like wind curling around stone.
A ripple in the unseen.
You recognized the signature.
Conqueror's force—but not as a weapon. As presence. Lera's Force potential was blooming instinctively, and this space—the vergence—was nurturing it. Like a womb of memory.
But such bursts could be dangerous. Untethered power drew notice.
You stepped in front of her with quiet intent and extended your own aura—not to block, but to dampen. You bent the air around her. Folded her will beneath yours, like smoothing a fire back into coals.
Your presence—heavy, grounded, yet invisible and silencing the world without raising a hand.
Lera blinked. "You did it again."
"I didn't suppress you," you said. "I reminded the Force who's speaking first."
She laughed softly at that.
Then something shifted.
The wall behind her clicked—a hidden mechanism. The mural she had been practicing near began to glow faintly. The outlines of the combat figures lit with soft amber light. Then, without warning, the wall split and receded.
A passage appeared.
You looked at Marbs.
"Wasn't on the map," he said.
You raised a brow. "That's the point of secrets."
Lera looked between you both, suddenly unsure. "Is it safe?"
"No," you said, stepping through. "But it's necessary."
The corridor beyond was narrow and steep, carved into the living stone. Light pulsed gently along its ceiling, as though veins of the Force itself guided the way. The air grew warmer the deeper you descended, but not oppressively so. It was like walking into a breath held for centuries.
At last, the passage opened into a round chamber, no more than five meters across. And at the center stood an obelisk of dark stone—obsidian flecked with veins of gold and silver. Floating around it were six small orbs, each humming faintly.
You recognized the purpose.
"A training relic," you murmured. "From before lightsabers. Designed to test Force attunement, reaction, and restraint."
Marbs hovered beside you. "Orbs will engage based on your intent. They're designed to sense latent projection, willpower, and prediction. A precursor to modern saber droid training. Rare."
Lera's eyes widened. "Can I try?"
You studied her for a moment.
"Yes," you said. "But first… we center."
You closed your eyes and fell into stance. Breath. Flow. The room responded, dimming slightly, the air thickening as you shaped it—not with brute strength, but with will.
The first technique of your discipline—Armament through the Force—wasn't defense. It was foundation.
You stepped forward, touched one orb with your fingertips.
Instantly, the others lit up and launched toward you in tight, darting patterns—erratic, fast, each one designed to force reactive use of power.
You didn't move quickly.
You moved deliberately.
Each orb approached—and with the barest twitch of your shoulder, a step of your heel, or the redirection of a hand, you deflected or avoided them. They buzzed past, struck air, rebounded off your energy.
No telekinesis. No visible shield.
Your presence was the shield.
The room quieted. The orbs dimmed.
Lera stared. "That wasn't a dodge. They moved away from you."
"They moved around me," you corrected. "Because I showed them where not to go."
She tilted her head. "That's possible?"
You smiled. "Everything in this room was built to listen."
She stepped forward now, hesitant. "Will it hurt me?"
"Only if you pretend," you said.
The orbs reactivated, now spinning in slow orbit. Lera stood beneath them, posture uncertain. You didn't correct her. You let her feel.
The first orb darted.
She flinched.
The second came faster. She ducked, fell, rolled.
The third hovered—then darted toward her exposed side.
Her hand came up—not to block, but in instinct.
And her intent surged.
A pulse—not Force push, but something deeper. Like presence spiking through will. The orb struck air—and stopped.
The others flickered.
The vault seemed to pause.
You nodded. "You're learning."
Her cheeks flushed. "I don't know how."
"You don't have to know yet. You only have to listen."
Marbs hovered behind her. "Harmonic signature increasing. She's synchronizing faster than previous models. Recommend continued training."
You nodded—but your eyes lingered on the obelisk. There was more here. Another secret. One not yet revealed.
You placed your palm against it.
And the Force opened.