The moon had no name—at least, not one that showed up on any standard navicomputer. To the charts, it was a speck of rock orbiting a dense blue gas giant, long forgotten by traders and surveyors alike. No settlements. No beacons. No patrols.
Exactly what Kai needed.
He guided his X-wing down through the thin atmosphere, skimming over broken ridges of jagged obsidian and weathered plateaus. The world below was barren but not lifeless—wind sculpted sharp spires from old volcanic stone, and small, rust-coloured plants clung to the cracks like defiant embers.
He chose a rocky alcove nestled between two cliffs, shielded from aerial scans and most ground-level views. As the landing struts hissed and locked into place, R6 trilled softly, scanning the surroundings.
Kai stepped down into the dust, boots crunching over gravel. The sky above was in constant twilight, caught between the light of the nearby gas giant and the drifting shadow of its rings. It was haunting. Still. A place the Force whispered through like wind in a canyon.
He spent the next two days establishing a quiet routine. A makeshift shelter of tarp and scrap beside the X-wing, circuits rewired to charge what little tech he had. R6 acted as lookout and assistant, occasionally rolling out chirps of commentary that Kai answered with vague nods or tired smirks.
But most of the time, he trained.
He meditated on the stone ledge overlooking the plains, letting the sound of the wind guide his breath. He practiced with the Force—lifting rocks, slowing his pulse, reaching outward for the life signatures buried deep in the dirt and root systems.
And at night, he worked on the lightsaber.
Laid out on a spread of cloth were the components he had bartered, scavenged, and risked everything to obtain: a partially-restored emitter matrix, a focusing lens, an activation plate, pieces of a hilt he'd chosen more for its balance than appearance. The powercell pulsed softly now, stable. Alive.
And, of course, the crystal.
It glowed faintly violet, a mixture of blue serenity and red defiance. The colour suited him—conflicted, but not broken.
But something was still wrong.
Kai sat cross-legged before the parts, fingers twitching with the effort of aligning them. He followed the techniques passed down through the holocrons, through the specter's teachings, through sheer instinct—but every time the components drew close to unity, something faltered.
Either the pieces refused to lock together through the Force, or the energy would destabilize, flicker out before ignition.
He tried again. And again. Sweat beading on his brow despite the chill in the air.
Still nothing.
He sat back, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. His hands trembled slightly—not from fear, but from exhaustion. And beneath it all, a feeling he couldn't quite shake.
It wasn't just the saber that was incomplete.
He was.
He stared at the crystal resting in his palm, its glow quiet and waiting. Not rejecting him. Just... uncertain.
Emotion stirred in his chest. Not anger, not sorrow—something stranger. An echo of the vision. Of Gar Saxon. The way the warrior had fought the Krayt dragon, relentless and alone. A strength that had felt eerily familiar.
There was something in that connection. Something he hadn't yet faced.
And until he did, he wasn't ready.
Kai closed his hand around the crystal, eyes heavy with thought.
The saber would wait.
He needed to find what was missing.
Even if it meant looking into the darkest parts of himself.
That night, Kai slept restlessly. The air was cold, the wind sharper than before, and yet it wasn't the elements that troubled him. As the crystal sat beside him, softly humming, the Force reached into his dreams—and pulled him somewhere far deeper.
He stood on the plains of Mandalore, but it wasn't the desolate, war-torn Mandalore he had read about. This was a different time, decades before. Warriors in full armour marched across training fields, under banners of clan pride and Imperial allegiance. Among them was a boy—fierce, fast, eyes burning with ambition. Gar Saxon.
Kai watched through eyes not his own. He felt Gar's fire, his pride as he was chosen for elite training, raised under Imperial doctrine. The Empire nurtured him, sharpened him, taught him obedience and conquest. And he gave it everything—until he earned the armour that marked him not just as Mandalorian, but as enforcer.
A man now, Gar knelt before a cloaked figure. The Emperor. No words were needed. Only silence and submission. A bond forged in power and unyielding purpose.
Then, another moment. A flicker in time.
A meeting in secret. A woman, strong and defiant, with eyes like Kai's. She bore herself with pride, not submission. And yet, they spoke without masks. Their words were hushed. She reached for him. For a moment, Gar's façade faltered. A quiet, stolen peace in a lifetime of war.
Then, years passed in seconds.
Betrayals. Orders. Blood spilled in the name of control. Until finally, the snowy cliffs of Krownest. Gar stood defiant once more, armour battered, facing his own kind. He fought to the end—but it was not glory he died with. It was regret.
A final breath in the snow.
And then silence.
Kai awoke with a start, heart hammering, breath ragged. The dream clung to him like frostbite. It hadn't felt like a dream. It had felt... lived.
His fingers reached instinctively for the crystal.
It glowed faintly in the dark—deeper now, a shimmer of violet with darker undertones, like shadows moving through amethyst.
Something in him had shifted.
Gar's path, his rise, his fall... it wasn't just history. It was a warning.
Or maybe a reflection.
And somewhere inside, Kai knew the truth was only beginning to reveal itself.
Morning came, soft and amber-hued beneath the twin shadows of the gas giant's rings. Kai sat in silence outside his shelter, the crystal cradled in his palm. The dream still clung to the edges of his mind—not as a haunting, but as a whisper of clarity.
Gar Saxon's life had been brutal, unwavering, soaked in loyalty and blood. And yet, there had been something more beneath the armor. A flicker of doubt. A buried tenderness. The man who'd once reached for something beyond war and servitude.
Kai could still feel it—that faint echo of kinship. As if the vision had unveiled not just history, but a shared thread. And in understanding Gar's life, a part of his own had clicked into place.
He breathed in deeply, drawing the cool air through his lungs. His heart was steadier. The silence around him no longer felt empty—it felt waiting.
With renewed purpose, he returned to the cloth where the saber parts lay.
This time, there was no hesitation.
Piece by piece, he reached through the Force, not with frustration, but with focus. The components responded—not resisting, but resonating, as if recognizing his clarity. The crystal hovered gently in the air, its glow deepening to a confident, balanced violet.
He guided it into the heart of the hilt.
The activation plate slid into place with a soft click. The emitter settled. Circuits bound not just by metal and wire, but by intention and will.
And then—he breathed in, let his thoughts still—and ignited it.
A shaft of violet energy erupted into the air, pulsing with life and sound. It hummed like a voice long-silent, finally spoken. The weight in his hand felt right—no longer a collection of parts, but an extension of himself.
He stood slowly, the blade casting its glow against the rocky cliffs around him. Wind stirred the dust. The Force flowed through him, vibrant and steady.
The saber was complete.
But more importantly—so was he.
The days that followed were quiet—but not idle.
With his lightsaber finally complete, Kai threw himself into training. On the windswept ridges and craggy plateaus of the forgotten moon, he practiced for hours under the shifting light of the gas giant. The violet blade cut through the twilight like a comet's tail, its hum now a steady rhythm to his breath and movement.
He focused on Soresu—the defensive form—refining his footwork, centering his stance, and allowing the blade to become a shield as much as a weapon. Each motion grew more fluid, more instinctive. There was no longer tension in his grip, no hesitation in his steps. Just purpose.
Even R6 took notice, whistling approvingly each time Kai returned to the ship, clothes damp with sweat but his gaze clearer than ever.
Meditations became deeper. The whispers of the Force less abstract. The presence of the crystal now pulsed in harmony with his thoughts, not as a separate entity, but as a quiet companion. The dark shadows that once loomed in the corners of his mind had not disappeared—but they no longer ruled him.
He had found balance.
But with balance came restlessness.
It stirred subtly at first—a gentle current under his otherwise calm surface. A sense that his time on this forgotten moon was ending. He had learned what he could here. Whatever path awaited him next would not be found in solitude.
He stood atop the cliff where he'd first meditated weeks ago, staring out over the wind-scoured plains. The saber hung at his side, its weight no longer foreign. R6 beeped beside him, already sensing his intent.
"Time to move," Kai murmured.
They left before dawn the next cycle, the X-wing rising silently from its rocky cradle, hull still streaked with grime and camouflage. Stars stretched into lines as they entered hyperspace—no destination locked in, only direction.
Kai followed the Force, trusting it would take him where he needed to go.
It didn't take long to find trouble.
Half a day into deep space, a proximity alert screamed from the console. R6 screeched and spun in his socket.
Three ships dropped out of hyperspace ahead of them—ugly, retrofitted freighters and snubfighters covered in scorch marks and jagged plating. Pirates, or smugglers running low on patience and fuel. Either way, they weren't friendly.
A grizzled voice crackled through the comms.
"Well now, what do we have here? A lost little bird flying without a flock."
Kai's jaw tightened.
He flicked a switch, powering up shields. "I'm just passing through."
"Then you won't mind stopping for a chat. Maybe handing over anything shiny."
The ships broke formation, starting to circle.
Kai exhaled slowly. The peace he'd found on the moon still lingered within—but it didn't dull his edge. If anything, it sharpened it.
"R6," he said calmly, eyes locked on the targeting readout. "Let's see if the old girl can still dance."
The droid warbled excitedly.
Kai gripped the yoke and twisted, sending the X-wing into a dive.
Trouble had found him.
But he was ready.
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At this point, gonna somewhat leave it up to you guys on whether you think i should continue this solo journey of Kai's, as we have about a years worth of in story time, or should i introduce a few time skips and such, while still creating Kai's storyline apart from the movies. Another point is, is there any characters you want to see Kai interact with, let me know.