Star Wars and all characters and elements of the universe are owned by Lucasfilm and Disney. I do not claim any rights to these characters or this universe. This work is fan fiction created for fun and is not intended to infringe on any copyrights.

Volyrn Verdun

Young Lieutenant Volyrn Verdun stood on the bridge of the Venator-class Star Destroyer Liberator, gazing through the wide viewport at the red planet Kaelebra, slowly rotating beneath them. Kaelebra was a barren world where a relentless battle between the forces of the Republic and the Separatists had been raging for months. Battle droids had occupied the planet for months, establishing their bases there, and now the Republic had sent a fleet to finally drive the enemies out of this region. Volyrn felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, knowing that he was not just there as an officer – he was there to support his adoptive father, Admiral Teraan, who was commanding the entire operation.
Admiral Teraan, a stern and seasoned commander, stood beside him, hands clasped behind his back. His gaze, always cold and focused, scanned the holographic battle map displayed in the center of the bridge. The clone troopers on the planet's surface awaited further orders. The Jedi leading the offensive, Knight Zorin Kael and his master, Jedi Master Serra Valen, were ready to make their next move. Everything depended on the admiral's decision.
Volyrn turned away from the window and looked at his father. He had always admired him – his determination, his cold calculation in the face of danger. However, with each passing day on the Liberator, Volyrn increasingly felt the weight of expectations. He knew that the admiral would demand perfection from him, as always. Volyrn couldn't afford to fail. Even though he was officially an officer of the Republic, he always felt like a student trying to please a stern teacher.
"Volyrn, look at the map," Teraan said, not taking his eyes off the hologram. "It seems the Separatists are moving their units toward the northern ruins. The battle droids have concentrated their forces there. We need to act quickly before they can fortify their position."
Volyrn stepped closer. The hologram displayed the topography of the planet – vast canyons, mountains, and Kaelebra's wastelands. The Separatists had established their bases in the ruins of a long-forgotten civilization, but the Republic had no intention of letting them stay there. This was a battle for control over a strategic area that could be a turning point in the war.
"What do you propose?" Teraan asked, his tone slightly softer, though still firm.
Volyrn looked at the data, calculating in his mind. "The Jedi should strike before the Separatists have a chance to fully entrench themselves," he thought, though he knew the operation would require precise coordination. Jedi Master Valen and her apprentice were on the front lines. Their task was to weaken the Separatists' forces, enabling the main Republic troops to land. But every move had to be meticulously planned to avoid heavy losses.
"I think we should support Master Valen and Zorin with airstrikes," Volyrn replied, pointing to the concentration of droids at the northern ruins. "The Separatists won't expect an attack from the east, and our clone units could easily flank them. The Jedi can launch a frontal assault, and we'll provide orbital support."
Admiral Teraan was silent for a moment, analyzing Volyrn's words. His eyes remained cold, but he nodded in approval.
"You're thinking wisely, Volyrn," he said, glancing at his son. "Contact Master Valen. Tell her to prepare her forces for an attack. We'll commence orbital bombardment as soon as they're ready."
Volyrn turned to the communications station and established contact with the forces on the surface. A few moments later, the image of Jedi Master Valen appeared on the holoprojector. Her face was stern, but as always, she radiated calm.
"Lieutenant Verdun," she said in a cool yet polite tone. "What are the orders?"
"Master Valen, we have a plan. We can support you with orbital bombardment on the droid concentration at the northern ruins. If you strike frontally, our ground units will flank them, and we'll end this quickly."
The Jedi nodded.
"Zorin is ready. We'll launch the attack in an hour. We'll secure the ruins and open the way for your troops." After a moment, she added, "I trust your plan will prove effective, Lieutenant."
The communication ended, and Volyrn looked at his father, who seemed more satisfied than usual. Admiral Teraan rarely showed his emotions, but Volyrn knew that whatever happened, his evaluation of this battle would impact their relationship for a long time.
"Good work, Volyrn," the admiral said, which was a rare compliment. "Now everything depends on the Jedi and your coordination. You have my trust."
Volyrn nodded and returned to his station, preparing for the greatest test of his life.

                                                                                                   ...

Zorin Kael

Zorin Kael felt the Force pulsating around him, permeating every particle of air on the surface of Kaelebra. The ruins he stood in seemed like a place long forgotten by time, filled with remnants of ancient structures built by a civilization that had disappeared centuries ago. Now this place had become a battlefield between the Republic and the Separatists. The cold, barren wastelands of Kaelebra stretched out endlessly, with red, dusty winds obscuring the horizon.
Every step on this alien planet made Zorin feel a deep unease. It wasn't just the enemies – the thousands of battle droids deployed across the planet's surface – but also the mysterious aura emanating from these ancient ruins. His master, Serra Valen, had taught him to sense subtle signals in the Force. Now, standing beside her, he felt the vibrations of an underlying threat, humming around them like a whisper that couldn't be ignored.
"Something is wrong here, Zorin," Serra Valen said, glancing at the dark sky shrouded in clouds of dust. Her calm tone contrasted with the unease emanating from her eyes. "This planet, these ruins... There's more here than just the Separatists. We must be cautious."
Zorin remained silent, absorbing every word she said. Since being knighted as a Jedi, his responsibilities had increased, but he still felt like an apprentice under her care. Master Valen was not only his teacher but also the closest thing to family he had ever known. He trusted her implicitly, though he increasingly questioned some of the teachings of the Jedi Order. The war was changing everything – not just the galaxy but the Jedi themselves.
"Droids are predictable," Zorin said quietly, focusing his gaze on the distant ruins, where the first enemy units were stirring. "But the Separatists... They always have something up their sleeve. Our attack needs to be swift and precise."
Serra nodded. She was calm, confident, as always. Her combat abilities were legendary, and despite his experience, Zorin knew that his master was on a level he had yet to reach. Nonetheless, he felt their bond was stronger than ever. Whatever happened, they were here together, ready to face danger.
His gaze shifted to the horizon, where massive ruins loomed in the distance. Surrounding them were Separatist battle units – B1 and B2 series droids, their metallic bodies glinting under the dim light of Kaelebra's twin red suns. Every step of the machines was mechanical and rhythmic, devoid of any grace, yet Zorin knew there were thousands of them. They waited, ready to attack as soon as the Republic made a move.
Zorin ran his hand over the hilt of his lightsaber, feeling his heartbeat quicken. He felt the adrenaline mixing with the Force. His breathing gradually calmed as he silenced his thoughts. This wasn't just a fight for Kaelebra – this was his trial as a newly knighted Jedi. Every decision had consequences, and every move could determine the fate of the clones who were about to enter the battle.
"Zorin," Serra's voice brought him back to the present. "Remember the teachings of the Order. Fight in harmony with the Force, not against it. Droids have no intuition, no feeling, but we do. Use that."
The young Jedi Knight nodded, knowing that ahead lay a task that would test him. He looked at the clone troopers standing behind them, prepared for the assault. Clones... Zorin had mixed feelings about them. They were excellent in combat, determined, and disciplined, but their existence reminded him of the inevitability of the war into which the Jedi had been drawn against their principles. He had always been taught that Jedi were peacekeepers, but now, on the battlefields, they had to fight, lead armies, and kill.
Captain CT-5234, the commander of the clone unit, approached the Jedi, his white armor dusted with sand and bearing marks from earlier skirmishes. His helmet was tucked under his arm, and his face showed determination.
"Knight Kael," he spoke in a firm, military tone. "The troops are ready. We await your orders."
Zorin looked at him, trying to read emotions on the clone's face, but he knew it was a difficult task. Clones were bred for war, trained not to show doubt, but Zorin always wondered what it must be like – to live with a destiny imposed from birth.
"We move out in five minutes," Zorin replied firmly, activating his lightsaber. There was no time for hesitation now.
Master Valen nodded, her own lightsaber igniting in a brilliant blue. Both lightsabers cut through the darkness, emitting a glow that reflected off the sand and ruins of Kaelebra. The droids began to close in, forming perfectly symmetrical formations. The Separatists were ready, but so were the Jedi and the Republic.
Zorin and Serra advanced, leading the clone troopers. The droids opened fire, green blaster bolts whizzing through the air. Zorin focused, entering a combat trance where every thought was precise, and every move was perfectly synchronized with the Force. Blaster bolts ricocheted off his lightsaber as he carved a path through the droid hordes. His lightsaber twirled like an extension of his body, and every strike was lethally precise.
The clones opened fire, the sound of blasters filling the air. The droids fell, shattered and torn apart by the clones' fire. The battle was intense, but the Republic was gaining the upper hand. Zorin could see the discipline in the clones' movements, a result of their training, but also something more – loyalty to each other. He knew they fought not just because they had to, but for their brothers. Every clone knew they wouldn't return home – because for them, home was the war.
With every step, Zorin felt the Force filling him. His master fought beside him, their movements synchronized, like a dance. Zorin knew that what they were doing mattered. The battle for Kaelebra could end in success if they maintained the momentum of the attack.
As the droids began to retreat, Zorin felt the pressure on his shoulders ease. But he knew it wasn't over. The Separatists had more units, more weapons. This was just the first wave.
"Master, we've done it," he said, trying to catch his breath. "We've pushed them off the position."
Serra Valen looked at him with a faint smile, but in her eyes, he saw concern.
"This is just the beginning, Zorin. I sense in the Force that something else is about to happen. We must be ready for anything."
At that moment, the sound of engines filled the air above them. Volyrn Verdun, aboard the Liberator, had begun the orbital bombardment to finish off the remnants of the Separatist forces. Zorin looked up at the sky, where flashes of explosions lit up the darkness of the planet. The coordination between the Jedi, the Republic clones, and the fleet was perfect.
But Zorin couldn't shake the feeling that the worst was yet to come.

                                                                                                          ...

Volyrn Verdun
Darkness. Chaos. Fear.
Volyrn Verdun was back there again, among the wreckage of the shattered ship, drifting in the endless void of space. The memories always began the same way – a sudden explosion, the tearing hull, and then silence, dark and overwhelming. The air was heavy, as if every particle of gravity was trying to crush him to the floor. Fragments of equipment floated around him, sparks flying overhead, and on his face, he felt the cold touch of death, clinging almost like a second skin.
He didn't know exactly what had happened. Every attempt to recall those events was like diving into a dark fog – shapeless, elusive, painful. A distant scream, perhaps the voice of his biological father, whose face he couldn't remember, faded into the bitter hum of the cosmos. The sounds seemed too distant, as if they belonged to a completely different life.
Yet he felt there was something left in that memory. Some truth he had been trying to uncover for years. Still, he couldn't piece it all together. Each fragment, every scene returned in nightmares, but it always cut off just when the most important moment arrived.
The sight of his companions' drifting bodies, shattered in the vacuum of space, haunted him every time he closed his eyes. Their faces – nameless, blurred – always bore the same expression: fear of the unknown. Volyrn tried to focus, but the memory was like a puzzle missing the key pieces.
And then he saw it, what always appeared in the final moments of these nightmares – a silhouette. A man. A strong, noble figure reaching out to him. This time the image was clearer than ever before. His face... It was Teraan, his adoptive father. Instead of anger, his eyes expressed understanding and concern. He sensed something more in him than just the cold discipline of an admiral. He was the only constant in his life, the only one he could rely on.
"Come, boy," he heard his voice, though he didn't understand whether it was real or just a creation of his desperate mind, trying to remember something. The outstretched hand of the admiral was a gesture that had changed his life. Volyrn knew that from that moment, everything that came before had vanished. He had become someone else. Teraan had given him a new life, a new identity, a new destiny.
But what lay behind that past? Who had he been before they found him?
Before he could recall more, the warning lights on the bridge flared before his eyes, pulling him violently from the nightmare. The jarring sound of the alarm struck him like an explosion, and his body, still immersed in the abyss of memories, was suddenly thrust back into reality.
Beep... Beep... Beep...
Volyrn blinked, returning from the darkness of his mind to the bridge of the Liberator. The view from the panoramic window, which had previously seemed like an empty horizon of stars, was now teeming with life and movement. The bridge officers hurried about, their movements chaotic, conversations punctuated by the crackling sounds of communicators. Information and reports flowed around him like fragments of thought.
An alarm. Something was approaching.
"Unidentified object in the monitoring zone!" came the voice of an officer, his tone betraying growing tension. "We can't determine its origin!"
Volyrn turned, trying to focus his gaze on the scanning screen. The display showed a shape – blurry, approaching at incredible speed. At that moment, it didn't reveal much, but his instincts told him this wasn't an ordinary Separatist vessel.
"What is it?" he asked, feeling adrenaline begin to surge through his body.
"We don't have clear data, Lieutenant," the officer at the console responded. "It's not a Separatist ship, nor a Republic vessel... The scanner shows strange energy emissions."
Volyrn moved closer to the console, staring at the blotches of data that were slowly taking shape. His heart began to race, and the memories that had haunted him moments earlier clouded his perception of reality. For a moment, he felt again what he had back then – that elusive dread that had accompanied the crash of his ship. Could it be possible that something from his past was coming back to find him?
"Raise the shields!" he ordered, turning to the officers. The voice of Admiral Teraan broke the silence.
"It's approaching faster than we thought, Volyrn," said the admiral, his gaze fixed on the screens with a focused, inscrutable expression. His eyes, though cold, always carried a hint of concern that only Volyrn ever noticed. "Prepare the fleet for defense. We can't take any chances."
Volyrn felt the tension on the bridge rising with every second. The officers swiftly issued orders, and the sound of clicking buttons, warnings, and preparations filled the room. The scanners on the displays now showed a clearer image – the unknown object had an irregular shape, unlike any class of vessel they had previously encountered.
Teraan, though always composed, now seemed slightly disturbed. Volyrn noticed it, even though the admiral tried not to show his emotions. The memories of the interrupted nightmare still lingered in Volyrn's mind, and now these fragments of reality and past began to blur into something incomprehensible.
"Do you think it's a Separatist trap?" Volyrn asked, trying to steady his voice.
Admiral Teraan was silent for a moment, analyzing the situation.
"Possibly," he finally replied. "But it's something else, son. We must proceed cautiously."
Volyrn tried once again to focus on the displays, but his thoughts kept returning to the memories, to that ship, to the crash. Whenever he felt like he was about to remember something, reality brutally cut him off. But this feeling... These memories were now more vivid than ever before. Something was approaching, both physically and in his mind.

                                                                                                     ...

Zorin Kael
Zorin Kael stood at the heart of the ruins on the surface of Kaelebra, where the cold, red dust swirled around his feet, carried by winds infused with a dark aura. The ruins, once witnesses to a great civilization, were now a battlefield – destroyed, neglected, and abandoned, now only watching another galactic conflict. Sharp, dark rocks jutted from the ground, resembling teeth trying to devour anything living.
Zorin breathed calmly, letting the Force flow through his body like an invisible current, giving him strength and calm. He knew the attack would begin soon. In the distance, at the outskirts of the ruins, he could see Separatist battle droids moving methodically, positioning themselves in defensive lines. Their ruthless, metallic bodies gleamed under the dim light of Kaelebra's twin red suns. Zorin sensed their presence – soulless, mindless units fighting only on command.
But it wasn't the droids that worried him the most. It was something he sensed deeper, beyond the reach of his sight and reason. Some mysterious force, dark and unpredictable, seemed to emanate from the ruins. Something he didn't understand, but the Force was giving him clear warning signals. Master Serra Valen was equally uneasy, though, as always, her face remained calm, almost stone-like. Zorin had long admired her ability to stay composed even in the most difficult situations. His master didn't speak much, but he always knew her judgment was sound and thoughtful.
Serra turned to him, her gaze filled with an elusive wisdom, as if she knew something more about this planet than he did.
"Zorin," she began, her voice soft but incredibly clear. "The Force is restless here. It's not just about the Separatists. There's something more hidden in these ruins. We must be careful."
Zorin felt a chill run down his spine. He had always trusted his master, but that tone, that subtle tremor in her voice... He knew these weren't just words of caution. Zorin pressed his hand against the hilt of his lightsaber, feeling the familiar weight of the cool grip. His blue blade was always ready, but today he felt something more – a tension, as if every heartbeat could decide the outcome of the battle.
"The Separatists are here for more than just a base," he said slowly, trying to gather his thoughts. "I don't sense the droids as a threat. It's something bigger. Something that's disrupting the balance."
Master Valen nodded, her gaze more intense than usual.
"You're right," she acknowledged. "There's something in these ruins that may have drawn the Separatists' attention. We cannot allow them to get it."
Zorin took a deep breath, his mind trying to grasp the significance of those words. Every droid, every trap on this planet was now a potential key to uncovering a greater mystery. But despite that, he couldn't shake the feeling that something – or someone – was watching them.
In the distance, within the ruins, the droids began to move toward them, and the Republic clones were preparing for the attack. Zorin looked at his clone captain, CT-5234, standing with the troops, his ever-present helmet under his arm. His face revealed little – the cold determination typical of clones emanated from his every gesture.
"Knight Kael, the troops are ready for the attack," said CT-5234 in a firm, military tone.
Zorin nodded. He felt the Force flowing through his entire body, filling him with energy he couldn't fully describe. Every sense was heightened, every heartbeat synchronized with the sound of the wind carrying the dust of Kaelebra. The battle droids were moving closer, preparing to open fire.
"Understood, Captain. Prepare for the signal," Zorin said calmly, but his voice carried something that made every clone in earshot more focused. They all knew this attack could decide the outcome of the battle.
Zorin looked at Master Valen, who activated her lightsaber with its characteristic hiss. Her blue blade blazed amid the red dust, casting a luminous aura around her, highlighting her majestic figure. Zorin followed her example – his lightsaber flared to life in his hand, filling him with familiar strength and confidence.
At this moment, despite the approaching battle, he felt that he was exactly where he was meant to be. The Force was guiding him, and he was its instrument. Every step, every move he was about to make was part of a greater plan that had its source in the heart of the galaxy itself.
"We're moving forward," Zorin said quietly to Master Valen, though he knew she was already aware of it.
The clones moved behind them, and they – the Jedi, leading the entire operation – went at the front. The battle droids opened fire, their blasters spitting green bolts that whistled through the air, scattering across the ground and rocks. Zorin raised his lightsaber, deflecting the bolts with precision, made possible only by the Force. Every swing of his lightsaber was fluid, balanced, as if he had trained for this his entire life – and indeed, he had.
Master Valen was beside him, and their lightsabers danced in harmony. The air was filled with the smell of ozone and dust, mingling with the metallic sound of blaster strikes and the clattering of droids. This was a battle, like any other – and yet Zorin felt that something was changing. Something he hadn't yet seen, but he knew was inevitable.
The droids fought relentlessly, but Zorin knew this was just the beginning. In the depths of the ruins, he sensed something more powerful – an unknown force drawing not only the Separatists but also the Force itself. With every movement, he felt that whatever awaited them in the heart of the ruins would change everything.
Suddenly, in the midst of the fight, he felt a stronger pulse in the Force – something that momentarily threw him off balance. His mind was pierced by a strange image: shadows, figures that had no faces, yet seemed familiar. Zorin's heart raced. This wasn't an ordinary battle. This was something more.
The Force was warning him about what was to come. But what was it? What was hidden in the ruins of Kaelebra that made the Force so restless?
"Zorin!" Master Valen's voice cut through his thoughts. "Don't stop! Focus on the fight!"
Zorin shook his head, returning to reality. He had to stay focused. The battle raged, and the droids weren't going to give up. Master Valen was right beside him, fighting with the precision she had always taught him. Her movements were majestic, full of grace, as if every strike was perfectly calculated.
Zorin pressed forward, deflecting blaster bolts and cutting down more droids. He knew he had to reach the heart of these ruins. Something was waiting for them there. Something that could change the course of the battle, perhaps even the entire war.
The only question was, what was it?

                                                                                                    ...

Volyrn Verdun
On the bridge of the Venator Liberator, surrounded by cold, gleaming walls, Volyrn Verdun stood before the main tactical display, staring at the damaged silhouette of the approaching Venator. Time on the bridge seemed to slow, every second stretching longer, and the hum and clatter of keys in the background seemed to grow quieter as everyone waited for answers that weren't coming.
On the screen was the wrecked hull of a Venator-class Star Destroyer – a Republic vessel named Invictus. The ship's hull was torn apart, with long, blood-like scars of metal running along its spine, as if it had been ripped by an invisible force. The damage was so extensive that Volyrn wondered how the ship had survived its journey through hyperspace at all. One of the artillery towers was destroyed, and smoke billowed from gaping holes in the hull, which in the dark space appeared as shadows. The ship looked more like a ghost than a functional machine.
Everything around Volyrn seemed to slow. He looked at the Invictus, trying to understand how it was possible that this ship had returned to the sector. The data they had was scarce. No response to hails. Only scattered life signals from the ship, insufficient to assess the crew's condition.
"Venator-class Star Destroyer. Identification number – Invictus," said the officer at the scanning console, his voice breaking the silence on the bridge. "No response to our hails. Communications from the damaged ship are blocked; signals aren't being received."
Volyrn felt the tension rising in his chest. Something was wrong. The Invictus belonged to a fleet patrolling the Outer Rim – a sector that had long been a site of sporadic, yet brutal skirmishes between Republic forces and the Separatists. But no one expected a Venator to return in this state, especially without any prior reports of a major battle. Volyrn stared at the screens, trying to gather his thoughts.
Admiral Teraan, standing right beside him, seemed as unperturbed as ever. His cold, calculating gaze wandered over the screens, analyzing every detail. His hands were clasped behind his back, his posture rigid and full of concentration. Though Volyrn knew this expression of his father well, now he sensed that something in this situation unsettled him.
"What could have brought the Invictus to this state?" Volyrn asked, looking at the admiral. "We have no reports of major battles in this sector."
Teraan was silent for a moment, his eyes still fixed on the images of the damaged ship.
"We don't know, son," he finally said, his voice deep but composed. "But whatever happened to them must have been unexpected. That Venator wouldn't have returned in such a state without sustaining severe damage in a heavy battle. The lack of communication only deepens our concerns."
Volyrn nodded. His mind tried to piece together the facts, but the answers were elusive. The ship was practically a wreck, drifting in space, barely able to maneuver. They had to find out what had happened. But the more he thought about it, the more the tension inside him grew. It reminded him of moments before a battle – that moment when you know something is about to happen, but you don't yet know what.
"Do we have any information about the Invictus's last mission?" Volyrn asked, turning to one of the officers responsible for reports.
The officer at the communications console quickly sifted through the documents, his fingers gliding over the buttons on the console.
"The Invictus was part of a strike group patrolling the border sectors near the Beroxis system," he replied, looking at Volyrn with concern. "They were escorting a supply convoy to a Republic base on the planet Skelnor. It was a routine patrol. But the last contact we had with them was three days ago. Then they disappeared from our sensors."
A routine patrol. Volyrn felt the unease growing inside him. If they were just escorting a convoy, why were they returning in this state? Beroxis was known for minimal Separatist activity, but it had never been the site of major battles. Could they have fallen into an ambush? Perhaps they encountered something no one expected?
"We need to know what happened out there," Volyrn said, his voice growing firmer. The Invictus was a powerful ship, not one to easily succumb. Yet it had returned, shattered and silent, as if it had fled from something it couldn't defeat.
Admiral Teraan nodded. His face was tight, but his eyes never left the image of the damaged ship.
"I agree," the admiral said. "Issue the order to prepare a boarding party. We want to know what happened to the Invictus's crew, but we must be prepared for the worst. We can't rule out the possibility that this is a trap."
Volyrn didn't need further instructions. He turned on his heel and headed toward the communications station to issue the orders immediately. Every decision had to be thought through now – this was his role as an officer, but also as the son of the admiral, who placed his trust in him.
"Boarding party, prepare for immediate departure to the Invictus," he told the officer, who quickly began relaying the orders. "We want full security. Expect anything. The lack of response from the crew is cause for concern."
As preparations got underway, Volyrn stood once again by the tactical display, looking at the wrecked ship. What kind of force could have brought a Venator to such a state? This thought wouldn't leave his mind.
For a moment, his thoughts returned to the nightmare that had haunted him earlier. He saw himself – a boy lost in the void of space, drifting among the wreckage. And now the Invictus looked almost identical to those images from his dream: shattered, dead, drifting among the stars.
But now it wasn't just memories. It was reality.
"Do you feel what I feel?" the admiral asked, turning to Volyrn.
Volyrn tore his gaze away from the screen and looked at his adoptive father. In his eyes, he saw not only cold calculation but something more – a shadow of uncertainty that very rarely crossed Teraan's face.
"Yes, father," Volyrn replied. "Something about this situation doesn't add up. I feel this isn't just another battle with the Separatists."
Teraan nodded, and on his lips appeared a faint smile, barely noticeable, but Volyrn saw it. It was a sign of approval, one that Teraan only showed when he felt his son was seeing things the same way he did.
"We'll see what we find on the Invictus," the admiral said, adding, "But be ready for anything. This could be something we've never encountered before."
Volyrn nodded, feeling that this was just the beginning of something much larger.