Star Wars: The Zeffo and the Hidden Wind

Chapter 1

I hold in my hands the last of the old and the beginning of the Pure Wind. In this, the last Astrium a reminder will be held. We can never again follow the leading's of old sages and their treachery.

―Talis on Blind Faith of the Zeffo

I stood on the edge of my field overlooking this watery land, wondering if this was what the forebears had in mind when they came to this place. Peace surely but stagnation? Who could ever really know for sure? Artifacts from that time held a great deal of wisdom on the subject. Great poets speak of the Whisper of the Life Wind and how to follow its expression, this great power our Jedi brothers so enigmatically call "The Force". Never where one goes when the drudgery and monotony begin to eat away at each day it gives you breath.

Those Councilors of the Great Hall tell us to allow our minds to be taken on the journey we have before us amidst the Great Tempest. So much metaphor and symbolism. A rich history certainly, but impersonal and without a true direction. Where once our people held great power and sought even greater wisdom in our temples and grand corridors, now we seek a "serene silence". Complacency. All words used to keep people where they are and without passion.

"Focus." The word came unbidden to my mind and I closed my eyes.

Feeling the Pure Wind flow into me I reached to feel the presence of the Astiri always present with me. Created from the melted down remnant of the last Astrium, the Astiri orb served as a reminder of where the Zeffo forbears came from and a warning never to return. Each follower of the Pure Wind was required to keep it always in place upon their forehead. At first this could prove challenging. Young ones would lose focus and drop them often. Many would instinctively reach for them to pick them up, only to be reminded they could not touch them with their hands. To do so would pollute the memory and reject the leading of the Pure Wind. Soon each one learns to always have this passive sort of focus, using the Pure Wind to raise the Astiri again. Like an extension of themselves they don't even need to think to keep the Astiri affixed in place. I personally always find it of great comfort in times like these.

A stiff breeze whipped against my cloak as I opened my eyes. Storm clouds pushing toward me over the tree canopy in the distance, the whole body of them swaying together as one. I wonder if it was like this back home. The stories are still told of Zeffo. A place where the Pure Wind blew through and found its way into each cliff and crag. It filled not only the world, but its people with great power and zeal. Fleeing with their lives still intact, they moved first to nearby worlds in hopes that they could find a brief purchase or respite from their enemies. First to Shalam, only to be turned away as our people could offer little in trade for a spot in the world. Then Mantessa, a world full of places to hide and rich with life. Too rich in fact, as our small encampments were constantly harassed by the wild panthac beasts. The galaxy, it seemed, was too small for us.

The logs tell of months worth of journeying toward the Western Reaches and finally reaching the remote Lipsec Run and Wild Space. Our people had finally had enough though. Manually plotting a course two sectors across we found our new home, Qi'rut, meaning Tempest in the old tongue. A beautifully balanced but wind swept planet; it has large seas, raging rivers and plenty of space to branch out into. Continents split enough from each other to give rise to large mountain ranges but also new speech, new art, and new ways of thinking. New ways of thinking...

I felt her approach before I heard the voice calling me.

"Mikra, it's time to begin. The others have gathered." Avril spoke in her calm tone.

She is lovely. Each time she is near I feel somehow closer to my unspoken goal. The peace and tranquility so sought after by all. Each day I find myself eager to share my meditations with her. Today especially.