The ruins of Tython were perhaps more ancient than even many stars in the galaxy. The planet itself had seen eras before the first Force-wielders came into being. She wondered if the stones themselves held memories from ages before history itself even bore a name.
Jedi Master Aria Feisyyd was meditating, surrounded by a circle of cracked and crumbling stone pillars wrought by some society long since forgotten. The shrines of the anient Je'daii were almost indistinguishable from the rest of the stones and trees that covered this worl, and with how many there were they might as well have been a piece of the landscape themselves. Not a day went by anymore that another one was found, ever-adding to the already frightening hundreds - thousands, soon, she predicted - of faceless, nameless shrines that covered the planet. Perhaps they were once the personal refuges to the ancient Je'daii - perhaps their culture were nomadic. But regardless of where they came, what they were supposed to be, and how plentiful they were, she found them to be unmistakably calm and conducive to a submission to the Force.
This one looked no different than any others, but spoke to her regardless. It wasn't far from the old temple where those who remained had settled, but still a hike enough into the hills to leave the noise of engines and droids behind. The Council and their fellows knew: if Feisyyd was nowhere to be found, then she would be here. It resonated with the Force in a familiar sort of way... almost soothing, though not enough to bring a yawn to her voice. It was atop a hill, surrounded by trees and stones: in other words, unremarkable. But how the breeze carried through the leaves here to brush over her robes and hair, carrying with it the glittering pollens of fruits and flowers, and the cold and softly-overgrown stones bore her up comfortably yet steadily... it was unmatched in any other place she had found.
Perhaps it was optimism that brought her to this way of thought. The Council had been direct and express in their intentions to bear the new persecutions lightly, but for once she found herself disagreeing. It had not, though the Senate might interject, been the Jedi's making that brought tyranny to the galaxy. It had not been them that rose and terroized the Republic for decades in the bloodiest war known to history. And it certainly had not been them that decided to abandon the once-peaceful systems to their eventual crumbling beneath the Sith Empire.
And yet the Way of the Jedi called for patience and humility. It would not dirty its hands in dealing with the relentless tyranny of the Sith.
"Master," Nayla said, "I don't believe those feelings to be the healing kind."
Master Feisyyd did not break her stance, but replied regardless. "What is it that you sense?"
"Is it... fear?"
"Search deeper. Fear of what?"
There was silence, then, "I'm not sure."
"Think on it." She breathed slowly, deeply, and methodically. "I would like to hear your conclusion, when you come to it."