A warm glow washed over the temple steps, the vague stripes of cloud adding shades and texture to the golden sky as Coruscant Prime disappeared in sunset behind the distant skyline. The air was light and fresh: nothing like the stale, recycled air that pumped around inside the battered and rusted ships of the Wheel; and the gentle breeze that ruffled his robes and brought scents of the blossoms and flowers in the temple guardens was unlike anything he had felt since before he'd been trapped in darkness on Ord Ithil.

The stone steps on which he sat were hard and unrelenting; but a Jedi learned to tolerate such things, and a man could do so easily when faced with the realisation that after so many long, perilous, arduous years, he was finally home.

"This is a dream, isn't it?"

It was a question that didn't need answering; if the fact that he was sat on the great stairway leading to an unscathed Jedi Temple, deep in the heart of the Imperial homeworld without there being even the faintest whisper of a Stormtrooper attempting to stop him wasn't evidence enough, the presence of his companion most certainly was. Mandan Hidatsa was a man long dead; but clad in the same emerald robes and graced with the same boyish smile that he always wore, the man beside him looked anything but.

"Yes, it is," Mandan agreed, his eyes not deviating from the horizon as he replied. "Or perhaps it is a vision. You were always better at getting the terminology right than I was."

A faint breath of laughter escaped from Inyos. "A vision?" He shook his head, dismissing even the faintest notion. "I didn't have those even before the Purge," he countered. "You expect me to believe that I'm having them now, with how clouded my concentration and my conscience are these days? I can hardly feel the Force anymore, let alone decipher what it is whispering to me."

Despite the gruff new tone of cynicism that his old friend had acquired, Mandan couldn't help a faint smile. "It helps to have an old friend around to turn that whisper into a shout."

"A dead friend," Inyos clarified.

Mandan inclined his head, surrendering the point. "I prefer to think of myself as having transcended my physical existance, and become one with the Force."

The muscles along Inyos' jawline clenched, and his eyes tried to waver from the sunset, but he forced them to remain. "I killed you, Mandan. I fought my closest friend, and I cut you down. Then I let my emotions consume me, and murdered another in cold blood."

A surprising, genuine laugh escaped from Mandan at that. "If memory serves," he countered, "That 'another' was posessed by the spirit of an ancient and powerful dark Jedi, who twisted and manipulated me into trying to kill you. And the instant she died - the instant you realised what had happened - you decided that you would rather die than fall to the Dark Side." He shrugged, placing a reassuring hand on Inyos' shoulder. "You can't be blamed if the Dark Side on that planet decided to thwart the swan-dive you took off that building."

"Can't I?" Inyos' voice trembled with bitterness. "I seem to be succeeding in that quite well."

Mandan let out a sigh. "Well, I don't blame you, Inyos. And though you don't need it: you have my forgiveness as well."

At that, Inyos finally did allow himself to look at the spectre beside him: the man who was his brother in all but name and genes. "How can say that with such ease? I took everything from you - you never even met your son."

Mandan smiled: a warm smile, wise beyond his apparent years. "We were both trapped on that planet, old friend. The time that you spent in deepening dispair, I spent coming to terms with it. And as for my son -"

The emerald knight rose, descending a few steps to bring him closer to the seated Inyos' eyeline. "He's here, Inyos. Or there, rather. With you, amongst the fugitive flock that sails across the stars." Mandan's viridian eyes shone, eager and intent as he plucked the hilt of his lightsaber from his belt, extending it towards Inyos' waiting hands. "Find him, Inyos. Lead me to him."

Inyos' eyes fell towards the lightsaber, hand trembling as he reached towards the hilt. So many questions swarmed his mind, things he knew he should ask: but as his fingers closed around the cold, polished steel, his eyes snapped open, and he awoke.