Bell closed his eyes. He reached out, feeling the vibration of every droid’s thruster just as he had felt the thrum of the remotes all those years ago. Suddenly he could sense the gaps in their formation, chart a path through their number to get to the Cloudship.

Back in the training gallery, the young Bell had taken up a defensive stance, his lightsaber burning bright. The training remotes had surged forward, and he had broken into a spin, his swirling blade slicing through each and every drone before they could even fire. He hadn’t planned the response, but followed the prompting of the Force.

To this day he didn’t know who had been more surprised by the tactic, himself or Loden.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” his Master had admitted. “A lesson for both of us.”

And now the Nihil would learn the same lesson.

Bell threw the Vector into a spin, drilling through the scav droids. He plowed forward, his corkscrewing wings smacking the droids aside before they could grab hold of the ship.

Ember didn’t whimper, even as Bell used the Force to keep her from bouncing around the cockpit. He was glad he’d brought her with him. Another Jedi might have left the charhound behind on the Innovator, but Bell needed her near. He focused on Ember’s breathing as they streaked forward, keeping her calm, stopping her from feeling dizzy or panicking as they turned over and over.

No chaos, only harmony. No chaos, only harmony.

One of the last lessons Loden had taught Bell was that true mastery of the Force came not from protecting yourself, but others. As long as Ember was with him, he would keep her safe.

Bell cleared the swarm and, finally leveling his craft, opened his eyes.

That was when the harpoon punched through the front of Bell’s Vector and lodged in his belly.

CHAPTER TEN

The Shrine beneath Golamaran

Death never came. Not for Dis. Not yet.

The cobonica shuddered, a ripple rolling through its massive body. The tentacle that had been mashing him into the icy rock fell away, slapping to the floor. Out of instinct, Dis struck at it, his remaining wingblade cutting deep into its immobile flesh. All the other tentacles were down. He could count seven … eight … nine lying in a tangled heap. The air stank of adrenaline, sweat, and dark thick blood, the monster’s twitching limbs illuminated by the two remaining light spheres, as was the sight of Kufa still stabbing mercilessly with her calcium dagger.

Sluk. Sluk. Sluk.

Dis staggered over to her, telling her to stop, even as black blood splattered against her face. He called her name sharply, and her eyes snapped up to focus on him, the stalagmite sweeping around to bury itself in his flesh.

He stepped back sharply, the point missing him by a hairbreadth.

“Hey!”